#and also like so much that he opens a lot even more about experiences when he was a kid
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Second Lesson
Pairing:Â Steve Rogers x Reader
Word Count:Â 3.1k
Warnings:Â edging and overstimulation
Genre:Â smut
Summary:Â Some things are not self explanatory, and Steve has decided he's going to fill in the gaps by coming to you to ask his questions about sex and some of those questions have more involved answers than you'd expect
***
You hear a knock at your door while you're looking for something in your closet.
"Coming!" You call, taking a moment to contain the hurricane that you've created in there. You open the door to find Steve in the hall.
"Are you busy?" He asks.
"Not particularly, what's up?"
"I have another question."
"Shoot." You say, gesturing for him to walk into your room.
"Edging. What it is?"
"It is pleasuring yourself or someone else until the brink of orgasm without letting them actually have an orgasm."
"That sounds like torture." Steve frowns.
"Sometimes it is. It can be used as a punishment, some people enjoy it though, it can also be about increasing endurance- you know- training to last longer in bed, it also usually makes the orgasm more intense when you do eventually get to that point."
"Huh, have you done it before?"
"Been on both sides." You shrug. "Oh also I should mention that like most kink terms there is an equal yet opposite complementary term. For edging its complementary term is overstimulation."
"And that is?"
"If edging is about restraint when it comes to pleasure then overstimulation is a hedonistic indulgence in it. Orgasming again and again and again, sometimes to the point of pain this is where a safe word can be useful because you may say things like stop or I can't take it especially because post orgasm sensitivity can be a bitch but the whole point is to keep going and if you've already talked about exploring either edging or overstim, your partner will probably ignore you saying stop because again the point is to keep going even if you are sensitive, but if they're going to ignore you saying it's too much, you need to be able to stop them if it actually is too much."
"Are all aspects of sex so- severe?" He asks.
"No. Sex can be incredibly soft and gentle and sweet, it can be slow and tender in many ways. I mean, you saw some of that last time. You just- happen to have coincidentally questions about the other end of the spectrum today." You shrug.
"It just seems very, intense. Like maybe too intense? I don't get why you would want to put someone through that. It seems like a slippery slope, sex should be about love not some form of- torture."
"Well calm down, you sound panicked and it's not like I'm going to strap you down and force you to experience it. It's not for everyone Steve, different people have different preferences, this is why it's good to have those conversations before you sleep with someone so nobody gets put in a stressful situation they didn't sign up for. Plus there are a lot of ways to express love you know. If your person wants you to do these things then that absolutely shows that you love them, especially if you do them with the care you're meant to."
"I just don't understand it I guess." He shakes his head.
"That's fine Stevie, no one can force you to do it or enjoy it or even comprehend it really. Like I said, it's a personal preference. Just- be honest with your partner when the time comes." You shrug.
"What about you?"
"What about me?"
"Do you... like this stuff?" Steve asks.
"I do. With the right person."
"Really?"
"You have your ideas about sex, I have mine." You shrug.
"What's that mean?"
"You said sex is about showing love and I agree with that to a point but to me it's also about pleasure. It's about exploring yourself, sometimes through someone else. It's about learning and adventure. The heat and intensity, passion that is borderline all consuming, sex can be many things. I like to experience all of them."
"Oh." He breathes.
"Of course that's just me. I'm not here to change your mind about anything." You hum.
"I have to try this edging thing."
"You don't. The hands on lessons are an option not an obligation, you don't seem interested in that and that's fine! You can just take the verbal explanation and proceed with your day as long as it makes sense to you, there's no reason to force yourself to try something that don't appeal to you." You shake your head.
"Well, it's hard to understand something if you're not open to experiencing it right?"
"I mean, I guess sometimes."
"So I want to experience it. That way I can understand it." He insists.
"As long as you're sure about this."
"I'm sure. Let's do it." He nods.
"What? Now?"
"Do you have time?"
"Depends on what time it is now."
"Three seventeen."
"I've got til six, I have another engagement later this evening."
"Is that enough time?"
"Plenty. Get comfortable, I would recommend getting naked, you do need to at least take off your pants or you'll likely stain them but it'll probably be more comfortable to take off everything because there's a chance you'll get hot. I know you run pretty warm already but I don't know how much you'd enjoy your shirt sticking to your back after twenty minutes." You say.
"Right, yeah." Steve hesitantly shuffles out of his pants and underwear and then, after seemingly debating in his head, he also pulls his shirt over his head and places all of them on your desk chair before sitting on the bed.
"Alright, I'm going to treat this like I would a real situation. Of course, the expectations are different, I know so don't worry about performing a certain way. Just like last time if at any point you have a question or something makes you feel uncomfortable you can simply say so assuming you can focus. If you can't focus use your stoplight. Yellow, or red, just like we discussed before." You tell him as you pull open the drawer by your bed and grab the bottle of lube.
"What's that for?" Steve asks when you squirt a generous amount into your hand.
"It's a lubricant. It might be a little cold at first, but I'm sure you'll appreciate it, especially the longer this goes." You say sitting beside him. "I'm going to touch you now, is that alright?" You ask.
"Yes." Steve nods with more conviction than you'd expect. You wrap your fingers around the base of his dick and he takes in a large breath. His exhale is shaky as you drag your hand up his length with a pressured grip. You circle his tip, slowly massaging it, watching his reactions, enjoying the way his abdomen seems to flex sporadically. His breathing is coming out harsher now and you begin to pump him. Last time you made a point not to stare at him since he was clearly rather nervous about the whole thing but not looking is rather impossible with this 'lesson' so you take the time to really get a look at his dick as you stroke him. The tip is a reddish pink and there are a couple veins running very noticeably along it. You already knew he was big, he's been inside you for fuck's sake, but looking at it unobstructed, boy was he... endowed.
"So how this works Stevie, usually, is that you'll tell me when you're close, ask me, beg me if I tell you to, ask me to cum and I'll tell you if you've earned it. Of course I won't demand all that from you, I'm rather good at reading people's bodies." You explain to him, stroking faster, holding a little bit tighter.
"W-what do you mean usually?" He asks wearily.
"When I do this with partners. There's a bit of power play that comes with this, if you hadn't noticed, having control of how much pleasure your person receives at any given moment. It's a very powerful feeling. But this is more about teaching you than my own enjoyment, so it's a bit different, I'm just offering you more details about the appeal of it all." You explain.
"A-and you- you like that? The p-power play?" He asks. You can tell he's really starting to struggle with his focus, his body is twitching, and he's gripping the sheets, blinking rapidly as he speaks. You watch his whole body tense up and take that as your cue to ease up. You slow your wrist to almost a stop, relishing in the groan Steve lets out.
"I find it can be intoxicating." You smirk.
"So that's how this works?" He pants.
"Pretty much." You nod, picking up speed again. Steve moans as his body jolts again. You can't help but imagine how nice he'd look with a couple of hickeys. You won't be giving him any of course but the idea does captivate you for a brief moment. It's clear that Steve is trying to control his reactions, but the shaky breaths and strained grunts give him away.
"My god." He whispers, tipping his head back. If it was anybody but Steve saying those words, you'd affirm that you are their god and they should worship you as such but it's not somebody else, it's Steve and you'd best keep it simple. When his body tenses up again, you slow your hand accordingly, and Steve lets out a strained groan.
"You know Stevie, you don't have to try so hard to keep quiet. I like your little noises. They're hot." You say.
"I'm not- r-really used to... making n-noises like that." He pants out.
"Well, a bit of advice, most girls like to hear that you're enjoying yourself."
"Really?"
"Yep." You say, stroking him faster, again. You continue your game with him, slowing down when his body tenses up and speeding up when his shuddering breaths quiet. With each denied orgasm his restraint on his vocalizations seems to slip, by the fith time you're slowing down he's an unending string of moans and grunts and even a few whimpers when you squeeze in just the right place.
"This is torture." Steve grits out. His entire body is flushed and his skin is glistening.
"I know but you're doing so well. Just a little longer and I promise I'll reward you. Don't you want that?" You ask with a mocking sweetness in your tone.
"Please." He says breathlessly.
"Oh that sounded nice." You smile. You're not even trying to break him like you would under usual circumstances but the sound him whimpering please to you almost makes you want to.
"Y/n- I feel, like I'm on fire. Please I need to cum." Steve huffs through clenched teeth and you start to wonder if he's reaching his limit. Gripping his chin you gently tilt his head to look at you.
"Checking in Stevie, gimme a color please." You say softly.
"G-green, this is insane." He says shakily.
"You haven't tapped out yet." You smile slightly.
"Is that the goal?"
"Not today." You wink at him. You decide it's probably best to stop here, so you pick up your speed again watching for the telltale signs of his orgasm but this time you finally let him peak and you can't decide if the sound or sight is more dazzling. Either way, you work him through it as evidence of his release spurts over your hand and his thighs in thick ropes. There's an impressive amount of it and you wonder if this is a super soldier thing or if he's just really pent up. When nothing else comes out and he hisses against your touch you let him go. "I'm gonna get a wash cloth, hang tight." You tell him standing from the bed and walking into your bathroom. You rinse your hand first and then soak a washcloth with room temperature water. When you pop back out his arm is draped over his eyes but he otherwise hasn't moved. You start with his neck, wiping the sweat that's probably made his skin sticky. You do a quick swipe across his chest too before moving on to cleaning the remenants of his orgasm from his thighs and recovering dick. "How are we feeling?" You ask him once he's clean. You toss the washcloth in your hamper and grab a water from your mini fridge before sitting beside him on the bed.
"That was- intense." He says.
"Yes but you knew that going in."
"I mean- when you finally let me, you know. It was intense- probably more so than I've ever felt." He says and you giggle at his avoidance of saying orgasm.
"We should really work on your comfortablilty with some of these terms. But yes that intensity is a high some people crave."
"Wow."
"Was it worth it?" You ask.
"What?"
"You said it was the most intense orgasm you've ever had, would you say the payoff was worth the buildup? After all you called it torture."
"You're not even nice about it."
"I was actually very nice, I didn't wait til you were crying to get you off which- is usually what I'll do."
"You make people cry?" He blinks surprised.
"Sometimes." You shrug.
"That's- further than I-"
"I know, that's why I didn't make you cry. Although crying is way more likely with overstimultion anyhow." You shrug.
"Is it?"
"Wanna see for yourself?" You ask opening your bedside drawer again.
"Well I'm not sure I can hand-"
"Here." You drop one of your toys in his hand.
"What's this?"
"A vibrator. I figure it's not fair if every lesson is just me doing things to you like some sort of lab rat so I thought you might want to try overstimulating me. The only other way for that to happen is for you to learn my body but who has time for that? This is efficient and pretty much idiot proof it'll get the job done regardless of your personal experience." You shrug.
"You- want me to use this on you?" He asks wide eyes watching you quickly take off your clothes.
"Yes I do. It's simple, I promise. It does most of the work for you. If you have the energy for it that is." You say.
"Depends on just how simple it is." He says. You sit on the bed next to him and grab his wrist, placing the vibrator in his hand against your clit. It's not on but your insides still clench in anticipation when it touches you.
"Put it here, small circles or wiggling it up and down is fine but keep it in this general area, start with light pressure and press harder as we go. I'll be using the same stoplight system, so here's a couple of preliminary warnings, if I squirm away follow me or hold me down, if I cry that's fine, if I scream let me, ignore me if I ask you to stop or say it's too much. In fact, no matter what, you keep this against me until I call red and I will call red. Sound simple enough?"
"You might cry and that's a good thing?" He frowns.
"It's not a bad thing. It probably won't happen anyway I'm just covering my bases no need to look so terrified." You chuckle.
"How do I turn this on?" He asks after a moment.
"The last button."
"What are the other two?"
"One controls the rhythym and the other controls the power, don't mess with those buttons. For the sake of this lesson they are off limits."
"Last one turns it on?"
"Yes." You nod. Steve stares at the buttons for a moment before a sharp click fills the silence and you jolt from the sudden stimulation. He moves the toy in tight circles, his face pinched in focus. Your hips grind against the vibrator and it doesn't take long for your first orgasm to hit you with a soft moan.
"Oh." Steve says, as if he's surprised.
"Keep going, add pressure." You huff out. Shuddering pants indicate that Steve's done what you asked, your muscles tensing from the continued pleasure post orgasm. The thing with this particular vibrator is that it works quick and you hardly manage to calm down before your second orgasm sneaks up on you. Steve trades the circles for little up and down motions that draw a couple sharp moans from you.Â
"Are you okay?" He asks.
"Fine Stevie, I'm fine." You say shakily. Your third orgasm comes with a cry through your closed mouth. You know it's impractical to be so mindful of your sounds but you've got to remain at least semi-composed to be of any help to Steve. More and more your body spasms as the stimulation continues, practically twitching from the pleasure. Small whimpers begin to escape with more frequency as you quickly approach orgasm four. On this one your eyes roll back and you allow an obscene sounding high pitched moan to fall from your lips. Steve makes a sound somewhere in his throat which you barely hear. You're starting to feel that bite of overstimulation layering under the pleasure and it makes you squirm. You jerk against the toy, hoping for a reprieve from the buzzing and Steve, the dilligent student that he is, places a hand across your stomach, holding you in place and all you can do is cry out as he presses the vibrator firmly against your clit. You grip the sheets tightly as he starts to make little circles around your too sensitive bundle of nerves, your whole body is shaking as another orgasm quickly creeps up on you with a squealing noise and string of curses. You can feel your brain getting fuzzy, that familiar hedonistic haze threatens to blanket your thoughts, you know if you don't stop Steve soon you'll be far too blissed out to do so and Steve is not equipped to handle that sort of headspace.
"Okay, red. That's enough Stevie." You say breathlessly but firm. Steve quickly moves the toy but struggles to turn it off so you take it from him and turn it off yourself. You take a couple of moments to recompose yourself, ignoring the phantom buzzing and overwhelming wetness between your legs when you sit up and pull your knees to your chest.
"Are you alright? Do you need water? Can I get you something?"
"I'm fine Stevie. How are you feeling?"
"Me? I wasn't the one-"
"The whole point of this was to see if you enjoyed either edging or overstim- having tried both, do you feel like you at least have a better understanding of them like you wanted?"
"I- guess I have a better understanding."
"Well what're you thinking?"
"I thought I would- hate the edging thing but, as... intense as it was there was something, freeing about it? Like getting on a ride at Coney Island and the ending was, worth the build up."
"And overstimulation?"
"It's incredible watching the way your body reacts to such an onslaught. Plus the idea of bringing your lover imense pleasure like that is undeniably delicious, I can see how that kind of thing can be so thrilling."
"Well there you go. Questions answered. You're free to leave." You say.
"Are you sure you don't need anything?"
"I'm fine Steve I'm just going to hop in the shower you've got nothing to worry about really. I've got other things on my schedule of today remember?"
"Alright- if you're sure. I'll see you around. Enjoy your evening."
"Thanks. See ya." You say. Steve seems hesitant to leave but without a reason to stay, he has to shuffle his way out. You let out a sigh after your door closes. You've got a couple hours before your evening plans, good thing, you'll need it. Hopefully one of these days Steve will ask a simple question with a simple answer that doesn't a demonstration.
***
Tagged Users: @chososg1rl
#marvel#marvel fanfiction#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers#steve rogers fanfiction#steve rogers smut
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I was reading this post by @just-a-little-cellist and I was inspired to do something similar but with the fellowship
Iâve done a few more specific mental health hcâs but this is just their general relationship with mental health as opposed to how they handle others with something specific if that makes sense
Also Iâm not trying to diagnose any characters; you shouldnât make assumptions about others, these are just my hcs for some version of the characters, whether canon or not, we will never know
The Fellowship and mental health
Aragorn:
-He is very knowledgeable about different mental health disorders
-Very quick to pick up on it
-I donât imagine him having any personal experience with any of it though
-I could imagine him having ADHD as a kid and although it doesnât just go away he has learned to mask it incredibly well
-He has mixed thoughts on medication; heâs not against it but he personally wonât take anything
Legolas:
-I think elves are a split bunch
-Their knowledge of mental health is scattered
-Elves are not shy with feelings but I donât imagine them having many problems when not in a time of grief
-And I think Legolas was especially sheltered from any mental health discussions
-Maybe the woodland elves are less open to the idea since I think Elrond knows everything about mental disorders
-A cultural difference I suppose
-He loves learning though so he will ask lots of questions
Gimli:
-Dwarves are not strangers to troubled mental health
-They are openly emotional and expressive
-But they donât put names to it; the idea of disorders is not in their nature
-Like they will openly discuss having trouble but donât tell them they have depression or something
Boromir:
-I could totally see him having anxiety that heâs learned to suppress because his father is a dickhead
-He knows about the more common disorders and is very supportive
-He doesnât always understand and sometimes he accidentally comes across as dismissive
-Iâve mentioned before that I kinda picture him to be similar to Arthur from BBCâs Merlin (but when he learns to be a bit nicer lol)
-Heâs trying his best; he needs a little patience to learn is all
Frodo:
-He reads a lot so I donât think heâs any stranger
-I think PTSD from the events in LOTR is the first time personally experiencing neurodivergence though
-Bilboâs definitely got a pinch of something but I couldnât tell you what
-So he doesnât really question anyone; heâs kinda like âwell, if I meet someone quirkier than my uncle it will be a wondrous dayâ
Sam:
-I think heâs pretty naive to mental disorders
-Not because he doesnât want to learn; but he just doesnât know better
-He may be a bit judgmental at first
-Like I could imagine him making a comment like âwhatâs up with them?â kind of thing
-But he truly doesnât mean to be offensive
-He doesnât branch out much from the people and things he knows so anything new is strange
-But he will be so supportive and will never live down his own regret for saying something even slightly offensive
Merry:
-He knows every disorder, every sign and symptom, and everything to actually have the disorder
-Like this guy has read every version of the DSM
-He finds it fascinating how peopleâs brains work so differently
-He totally thinks he can diagnose people though; which isnât great Merry
Pippin:
-Literally doesnât care
-And I mean he doesnât judge and it doesnât change how he thinks of someone
-Itâs just kinda like âyeah they do that sometimes; itâs part of their charmâ
-Will stim with someone absentmindedly; he is just inherently a copy cat
Gandalf:
-Obviously he knows all the shit and doesnât discriminate against anyone
-Violently protective if someone makes an inconsiderate, presumptuous, or offensive comment
-Gives kind advice if someone is struggling; but he wonât be overbearing or draw a lot of attention to it
-Ik for some people it is part of their identity and he respects that, but he isnât going to make jokes or anything (like example: a majority of my friends, which isnât a lot tbh, are autistic and I joke with them that clearly I have â¨a typeâ¨)
âââââââââââââââââââââââ
I personally have my own struggles and experience with my own mental health but I am not the most educated despite this. I know my own diagnoses pretty well but itâs only a small amount compared to the vast number of different disorders.
If anything in here is written in a way that is offensive please let me know; I try my best but itâs entirely possible I am blinded to certain things
Anyway love everyone and I hope you all are doing well :)
#lotr#lord of the rings#lotr headcanons#legolas#lotr fellowship#the lord of the rings#frodo baggins#lotr preferences#boromir#samwise gamgee#meriadoc brandybuck#merry and pippin#peregrine took#gandalf the grey#gandalf#sam gamgee#Aragorn#Gimli#mental health
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Ok so fic idea - magic reveal and reality shenanigans, takes place after the season 3 final.
So Merlin and Arthur are on a quest to get a magic dohickey, idk what, but, it's like magic, and then boom there's an attack. In this attack Merlin's magic gets revealed and Arthur is MAD obvi he won't attack Merlin but he is mad and says some hurtful stuff. They get trapped in a cave system or something during the attack and can't really get out. Merlin is understanding at first but Arthur keeps on harping and isn't listening to Merlin so Merlin starts to shout back. While they walk the fight starts to get more heated, by the time they find themselves in a large ornate opening in the cave system, they are screaming at each other. They stop for a bit to realize that they have found the dohickey. They storm up at the same time and grab the thing. Since their both mad at each other they start fighting with both of their hands on the thing. As they do so Arthur shouts that he wishes Merlin had never come to Camalot and Merlin says he wishes the same thing and says that mabey if he didn't come his life would be easier. What they didn't notice, while they were fighting, was the slowly growing glow of the dohickey under their hands. Once those words are spoken there is a bright light and both Arthur and Merlin black out.
Arthur wakes up in his room. He's still mad but doesn't even consider the thought that Merlin had done something. He thinks that something magical must have happened and Merlin had gotten them home. Once he thinks of magic he feels his blood boil and he gets up ready to stomp out of the room to find his useless servant but once he gets up he hears a soft knock at the door. He feels confused for a bit but tells the servant to come in. It's George, just as prim and proper as ever, but he looks.... Scared, Gorge had always looked differential and subservient, like a good servant but never scared, it might not have been noticeable but Arthur had seen the man relaxed and enjoying his job this was not that, he was stiff and his hands had a small trembl. He notices things despite what Merlin might say thank you very much. Gorge walks into the room head bowed, with silent and effective movements he opens up all the curtains, barely looking up once or saying a word. Which is also strange because Gorge usually greets or had a brass joke or two to tell. Arthur watches him intently wondering what was happening. With his anger temporarily forgotten he asks the silent Gorge where Merlin was. Gorge flinches when Arthur says his name and bows lower and apologizes saying he knows no Merlin. Arthur is gobsmacked. What does he mean he doesn't know who Merlin is. He gets up quickly and storms towards the door which was the same direction that Gorge was in. Arthur doesn't miss the the shake of George's sholders. Arthur hesitates for a moment before continuing out. He needs to find Merlin once he does then all of this can be sorted.
He heads to Gaius' chambers, he bursts in to see the old man sitting and reading. He looks supprised to see Arthur. The room felt empty. Arthur noticed it immediately. Merlin was a physician in training and had always left his books everywhere and had all his experiments all over the place. But the chambers were neat. It was how it was before Merlin had stepped foot into Camalot. Arthur felt his stomach drop. Gaius asks him what's wrong Arthur doesn't even look at him he heads straight to Merlin's room and yanks the door open, it's a storage room. He then remembers what the last thing they had said to each other in that cave, and he feels sick.
___
Merlin wakes up in a strange place. It's a delapedated room. But it looks lived in. He sees that there are magic books strewn about and clothes all over the place. It looks a lot like his room but that can't be right. He then remembers what happened in the cave and shoots up. Arthur! What happen to Arthur. He's about to run out the door when there is a knock. He freezes. Mabey these people have Arthur. He carefully says come in. A servant walks in head bowed. They look up and gasp. They fall to the floor and start groveling saying sorry that they looked apon the great Emrys face. Merlin is stunned, what was happening? He tries to calm down the servant but they just continue to grovel. Merlin is at a loss. He then sees a mask and grabs it and puts it on. He manages to calm the servant down after that. He asks where he is. The servant looks confused and tells him it's the isle of the blessed. Merlin starts because why would he be there. He tells the servant that a spell must have gone wrong and he needs a refresher of what he is doing there. The servant looks at him strangely but obliges. They tell him that he was rescued from the mortals clutches by the high priestess Nimueh and was raised as the champion of the old religion. Him and his two sisters Morgouse and the recently joined Morgana are rallying against Camalot any it's army. Merlin's head is spinning at this point and he has no idea what is happening. He has no idea how he had ended up like this. He then asks what the servant had initially come for and they say that Nimueh had requested for his presence. He takes in a deep breath and follows them. As they walk Merlin tires to figure out what is happening. He retraces what had happened before now and then the realizes that the dohickey must have done this. He represses the urge to groan as he remembers the things him and Arthur had shouted at each other before he had woken up here.
Looking around he notices that the castle is old, it seems like much of it could not be repaired. The walls are crumbling with cracks littering their surface. Merlin notics that while it is clean it is not spotless like Camalot, this means that there isn't enough servants to clean everything. They soon arrive in front of a door the leads to, what Merlin assumes is, the throne room. The servant knocks and steps aside. Merlin is nervous, he has no idea what his dynamic is with Nimnueh here. He knows that he could kill her but he needs to figure out how to get home. He remembers what Arthur does when greeting Uther and assumes thats the safest bet. He gose in and gives the crown prince's greeting to Nimueh which seems to be the right thing. As he looks into her face he feels a shiver go down his spine. He hadn't noticed it before because he was distracted, but someone was connected to his power. He couldn't access all of it. And he had a pretty good idea of who has been taking it. As he looks into the face of Nimueh he thinks 'Shit'.
That's all I've got
Things I would add:
- Arthur tries to talk to Gwen and he realizes how much of their relationship had hinged on Merlin - could be romantic or friendship depending on the ship of lack thereof the in the fic.
-Leon is a lot more distant from Arthur mabey not even his first knight, that would be one of Uther's nights.
-Agravain causing Arthur to fuck up.
-Arthur is wayyyyyy more anti magic, he is like his father burning those with just an accusation of magic so everyone is terrified of him.
-Uther is dead, the undead knight from season one had won that fight.
-Arthur has many more scars, his knights are in shambles, there are magical creatures roaming around and Arthur realises how much Merlin had actually done.
-He realizes how truly lonely it is to rule the way his father has and he comes to terms with the fact he would have turned out exactly the same if it weren't for Merlin.
-Merlin is also starting to realize how lonely it is to be in a powerful place
-Everyone cowers from him and although him and Morgana are on the same side she is fearful of him because of his destiny.
-He dose not have the name Merlin here and is only called Emrys.
-Â He is put into Arthur's shoes and had to deal with an overbearing parent, and having to care for a kingdom of sorts. While he knew the pressure Arthur was under and tried to help him as much as he could. He didn't realize how paralyzing it was to be the center of that pressure.
- Both the boys learn how much they rely on each other and how much time they truly spend together.
- While their friends are there they feel lonely as their bestie ain't there.
- I feel like Leon and Lance are with Arthur, mabey Arthur took away the noble thing because they didn't have enough nights caus they kept on dying. I feel like this would mean Gwen and Lance are married? Mabey.
-Gwaine and mabey even Percy and Elyan might be mercs hired by the magic side.
- So Arthur asks Gauis about Merlin, Hunith's son and Gaius is stunned as he doesn't know how Arthur would know them as they died soon after Merlin was born. Arthur thinks in this world Merlin isn't alive and freaks tf out. He thinks he wished his best friend out of existence.
-Merlin finds out that the magical community is currently going to war against Camalot and non magical people.
- Merlin thinks that this Arthur is not his Arthur, he will try to find a way home.
- A cool way for them to meet up is that mabey they are both forced to go somewhere, they both take the people they recognize or are close too. This is considered weird but is let go.
They bump into each other and fight for a bit then Merlin's mask falls off and Arthur freezes. Merlin sees this and also freezes. They stare at each other for a moment. The knights around them stop fighting because the two of the have stopped. - Merlin asks tentatively 'Arthur?' and Arthur's eyes start to tear up. He thought he had wished away his best friend but here he is. He stands there, stunned for a moment and Merlin calls him again. He snaps out of whatever fuck he was doing and calls out 'Merlin?' Merlin's postures relaxes and he let out a breathy laugh and rubs his hands on his face. Arthur then realizes that this is _his_ Merlin. He stabs his sword into the ground and hugs him. - meanwhile the nights are there in the background being like wtf???
- In the end they find the dohickey and it turns out they weren't in a parallel universe but rather they had changed their own reality to make it so that their wish was plausible.
- They set things right and have a nice long chat.
-Yay the end
That's a lot of words magic man. I won't write this probably. This is just a dump of my ideas. So take it my children and fly, and if anyone writes something with this premise please put it in the comments or tag me đđđ My ao3 is I_need_sleep12345
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â... I just remember staring up and going âthis is where all the dreams are coming trueâ.â
#i like this photoshoot so much#and love that we still get some glimpses#and also like so much that he opens a lot even more about experiences when he was a kid#anyways#i don't know if this gonna stay here#so probably#sebastian stan#sebastianstanedit#sebstanedit#fysebastianstan#sstanedit#stansclan#sebastiansource#gbbb#tw flashing#tw eyestrain#flashing gif
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I found this Twitter thread discussing Reimu and Autistic traits quite interesting. As someone both with Autism and in the process of getting my master's degree in clinical psych, I both found it relatable and think the OP made a lot of good points in their analysis (though I will note that you can't really diagnosis a fictional character but it's all for fun). So I thought I'd share it.
#beyond the border ~ ooc#They mention later that some folks on Reddit accused them of cherry picking information but in my opinion with how Reimu has been depicted#Across over a dozen games and a dozen manga where ZUN ... tends to be (intentionally according to interviews) inconsistent with how he#Depicts Reimu you kind of have to look at specific instances if you want to assign Reimu much of any character at all#And really the stuff they highlight (such as Reimu seeming to have AP issues) are WAY more consistent than most other traits for Reimu#As someone with Autism I picked up on a lot of those littler traits as I iconned the different mangas but since that's been over a drawn#Out time it never really clicked all together until I saw it laid out in this thread#I'd notice things and be like 'wow that really feels like an Autistic life experience to me' but then just kinda move on but seeing it all#I would say it definitely fits (of course my interpretation of Reimu always has been Autistic but most of my muses kinda are because I am)#Honestly what I found most interesting was them pointing out Reimu's insistence on keeping her upper arms/shoulders uncovered in every#Outfit which is a feeling I can deeply relate to#I highly favor shorts even in inappropriate weather because I strongly dislike stuff touching my lower legs#Also the point about how much Reimu loves reading is something I had not caught before but it's honestly quite interesting#Though it makes me think. With how much interest she's shown in detective mysteries in FS and WaHH I'm shocked they didn't have her be more#Involved in the opening mystery of FDS. You'd think she would have been all over there. She and Satori could have even slightly bonded over#Having detective interests (and the fact that Satori is IMO probably the strongest Autistic coded character in the series)#Though honestly when you consider the idea that Reimu could be Autistic it makes sense why she seemingly uncharacteristically cries so much#At the thought of her shrine being threatened. Being very defensive of special places and getting more upset than would be warranted over#One being threatened is a very common trait and I find that quite interesting to think about
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assorted nsfw headcannons
Ę incl: gojo, geto, nanami, toji, choso, shiu, sukuna
MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI
°ââ.ŕłŕż*:シ°ââ.ŕłŕż*:シ°ââ.ŕłŕż*:シ°ââ.ŕłŕż*:シ°ââ.ŕł ŕż
Gojo: ⢠Super cocky and confident when he's the one fucking, but if you go anywhere near his ass he's a goner
⢠Shameless with his pleasure and yours, he doesn't hold back his sounds and will grab your jaw and pull it open to hear you if you try to hold your own back
⢠He is insanely good with his fingers, and he always makes you cum around them before he fucks you
⢠Pushes down on your lower stomach when he thrusts inside you for the first time to make it feel even more intense
⢠Laughs breathlessly during sex when his cock makes you go dumb Always pushes his blindfold over his eyes so he can see better when you suck him off
⢠Successfully sucked his own dick once, came all over his face before he pulled off too late and never did it again
âââââââââââââââââââââââ
Geto: ⢠Has the world's most sensitive balls, has to stop himself from coming whenever you play with them
⢠Loves thrusting into you while you are on top, something about seeing your body bounce for him while you ride him to get yourself off is so hot
⢠Loves finger sucking especially when you get too loud, it doesn't do too much to shut you up especially when he has you in a mean arch and he's hitting it from the back but he loves the feeling of your tongue around his fingers, it makes his cock jerk inside you
⢠Fantasizes about fucking you in front of his cult, but he would never do it
⢠Chronic pillow humper
⢠Strictly jerks off with your panties or not at all, thereâs just something about seeing your underwear covered in his cum that makes him hard instantly, ready to go again
âââââââââââââââââââââââ
Nanami: ⢠Loves hand-holding during sex, being inside you isn't close enough he needs his body to be crushing you while he intertwines every bit of his body possible with yours
⢠EYE CONTACT is a must, especially when he goes down on you, if you close your eyes after he warns you to keep them open he'll slap your pussy to get your attention back on him, not too hard but enough that it makes you clench your thighs around him
⢠Has a thing for heels, anytime you bring home a new pair you break them in by rubbing him through his pants while he sits back on his heels and caresses your calf
⢠Has little experience but reads erotica and romance books often which taught him a lot
⢠Prefers giving over receiving, but he can be pretty rough when you suck him off. It always starts gently while he lets you explore him, but he always ends up wrapping his hand around your hair and setting the pace for you as he gets closer to finishing
âââââââââââââââââââââââ
Toji: ⢠Is a meanie in bed
⢠Prone bone is his go-to position because it got him the biggest tips when he was fucking women for money.
⢠His fingers will never leave your clit, he tries to bring you the most intense pleasure he can, constantly, and god forbid you start whining about how it's too much after you came, he'll tease you while staring at your face as he picks up the pace of his fingers.
⢠Loves really messy head, that goes for giving and receiving, if his and your thighs aren't covered in spit and cum and your faces are flushed red from lack of oxygen, something is wrong.
⢠A chronic head pusher
⢠Plays with your ass when he fucks you from the back, he's dirty and shameless and doesn't care about your reservations, he just wants to see you debauched and filthy
⢠Also ass eater of the century, spits on that shit and eats it like he's been starving for months, shakes his head back and forth to get as deep as he can, groans while he east you
⢠Full body collapses on you after he cums
⢠Has suuuuper sensitive nipples and can come from them alone but he refuses to let you anywhere near them
âââââââââââââââââââââââ
Choso: ⢠Loves watching your face when he's touching you, your pleasured expression alone is enough to get him to the verge of coming.
⢠Loves kissing, he wants to be as close to you as possible. When he finds out what a breeding kink is you better pray your stamina can keep up with him because he will not be satisfied until his balls are drained inside you, even if he can't get you pregnant, the idea alone is enough to make him lose his head
⢠Really loves titty fucking you, even if you don't have big equipment he will push your chest together as much as it will go and fuck what he can
⢠Also loves rubbing his precum all over your nipples, thinks they feel really soft on his cockhead and likes how small they are
⢠Stays inside you after he finishes for as long as he can till you push him off so you can pee, even after he goes soft he just loves the feeling of being inside you
âââââââââââââââââââââââ
Shiu: ⢠Filthy fucker
⢠Is down to try most anything once and likes most of it
⢠Phone sex expert, in another life he was a phone sex operator
⢠His dirty talk is unmatched, once he figured out how much you like it he became your own personal asmr-ist in bed with a shameless, filthy mouth.
⢠Played with your pussy in a crowded train once and has dreams about it frequently
⢠Loves road head, he has very tinted windows so no one will know what you're doing to him as you suck the soul out of his cock
⢠Mesmerized with finger fucking his cum back into you, loves watching it fall out only for him to shove it back inside you and overstimulate you in the process
âââââââââââââââââââââââ
Sukuna: ⢠The first time the two of you had sex you couldn't take him fully so he used your thighs. He got frustrated every time your legs would go slack as you got closer to finishing so he flipped you on your stomach and forced your thighs together with his hands.
⢠ONLY comes inside you, he thinks it's a waste otherwise and finds it disrespectful that you wouldn't want to take what he gives you. He was super bad at kissing at first but that didn't stop him from trying to absolutely crush you with his jaw.
⢠Loves when he forces you to submit after you are even the tiniest bit disrespectful to him.
⢠He doesn't stop until you are on the verge of passing out and can only feel him inside you.
⢠Uses his bigger body and four arms to render you a limp fuck doll often, will manhandle you however he wants and you have little say in it
â˘His tummy mouth licks your clit when he fucks you
⢠Likes to keep his hand on your neck during sex so you never forget whoâs in charge, he likes the thrill and dominance of having your life in his hands
âââââââââââââââââââââââ
#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jjk x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#gojo smut#gojo x reader#gojo satoru#geto smut#gojo satoru smut#nanami smut#toji smut#fushiguro toji x reader#choso smut#sukuna smut#sukuna ryomen smut#gojo satoru x reader#gojou x reader#shiu smut#shiu x reader#zenin toji x reader#toji x reader#suguru geto x reader#geto x reader#satoru gojo x reader#kento nanami x reader#nanami x reader#choso x reader#choso jujutsu kaisen#sukuna ryomen x reader
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NSFW Alphabet: Wolverine
a/n: I was excited to write a nsfw version of this because his character was surprisingly fun and easy to write for this. I like Logan because you can really be flexible with how he is in bed. It all depends on preference and writer ofc, but still it was fun to write. Wrote mostly gender neutral, on parts where body is described, I wrote for afab and amab. Not edited please ignore mistakes ty <3
18+ under the cut. MDNI.
A = Aftercare (what theyâre like after sex):
Aftercare king.
He knows just what to do, especially since sex with him is normally pretty rough and crazy. He leaves you a mess under him and you're barely able to walk. "Atta girl/boy, princess/prince, up you come." he grabs hold of you and lifts you up, carrying you to the bathroom to get you all clean.
He's a messy partner so you need a shower to get all the sex off you. He leaves you alone to do anything you need privately, but otherwise he's helping you maintain your balance in the shower and drying off.
You're in such a dazed state, you feel dizzy and lightheaded, still a little loopy. He will get you back to bed and lay you down, feeling pride and satisfaction within himself at how he could bring you to such a state. Only he could do that to you.
He will hold you close to him, you feel cold now, his body will warm you up. He likes skin to skin, so unless you want a shirt, he won't dress you so he can feel your softer skin against his own.
The praise he gives you makes you feel so special and worth so much, it helps when you come down from your high, knowing he was satisfied and loved every moment of the act.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partnerâs):
I don't think he really has a favorite part of his partner, but I will die on the hill that he likes his partners a little chunky. He loves to grab onto you, he likes how he can manhandle you without worry of hurting you.
Those plush hips and belly drive him insane. If you are afab, your ass draws his hand in every single time and he loves to smack and grab it. If you are amab, he will grab onto your thighs or soft, relaxed chest muscles and squeeze them. Both afab and amab, his hands come around from behind and gently knead your belly.
Logan is a dude so on himself...he holds his manhood very high, and for good reason.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically):
Filthy.
He gets that shit all over the place and he loves it.
He loves marking you inside and out. He loves shooting his spunk on your body just as much but something about releasing inside you makes him somehow cum harder and with more.
He's not that bad taste wise, I mean cum doesn't taste great, but he's not bad. Not too bitter, not too salty, but his cum is thick. And when he does climax, he cums a LOT.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs):
Logan, being a primal mutant, loves scents. It's one of the things that he relies on a lot, and your scent is intoxicating. He steals some of your clothes and smells them, or sometimes he will dive into your crotch and inhale you.
Not exactly dirty, but Logan secretly likes when you scratch his head or mess with his hair after sex. He likes to keep himself up as a tough guy most of the time but when you wind down, even if he's the one holding you, he sometimes scoots down enough to let you play with his hair.
He will move his head where he wants your hand to scratch and leans into it when you reach that sweet spot.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what theyâre doing?):
He's over 200 years old, he's got experience.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying):
Literally anything where he can watch you mewl and moan for him.
He also likes from behind or positions where he can watch his cock sink into you with each thrust.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.):
Logan isn't goofy but he also isn't serious. He's open to messing around and with tossing, turning, all sorts of play, it's not going to be serious 100% of the time.
He will chuckle and tease, sometimes funny noises are made, that's just how it is, and you both will laugh a little...but then you get back to it because who can resist?
Sometimes he will play fight you, wrestle you down to the bed and hold you there, with ease, and he smirks down at you trying to overpower him. It's a fun way to rile him up for sex and he enjoys it quite a bit.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.):
Logan is hairy, but not insanely so. I think below he is pretty crazy but he trims it down enough once you two get more intimate. Though he thought it was funny watching you spit out his pubes.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect):
He can be romantic but he is more passionate than anything. He likes to make sure you feel good, and he loves doing it. Once he gets you feeling good, he gets a little more rough and tells you what he likes without shame.
He's very forward, and his communication in the bedroom is immaculate. You wished he were like that outside of the bedroom sometimes, because there's no hesitation, no secrets, he's fully confident and tells you exactly what he wants.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon):
Sometimes he masturbates, sometimes he doesn't. It all depends on how horny he is in the moment.
He'll fist his cock to the thought of you, or since he likes your scent a lot, he will practically inhale your underwear and jerk himself until he cums all over his hand.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks):
Logan...he's kinky as hell.
Dom/sub dynamics drive him up the wall. He loves being in control, manhandling you, having you listen to what he says without fail.
Slight primal play would be up his alley. The playful wrestling and fighting gets him going and he likes to bite and mark you up during sex. Almost looking like an animal attacked you, but no, it was just Logan marking you as his.
Dirty talk king. He is so brazen with his language, whispering it into your ear as he pounds your poor, swollen hole full of another load.
Praise, praise, praise! He loves to praise you and how good you take his thick cock inside you.
Overstimulation/denial, he loves the control. He often makes you cum multiple times before even penetrating you just to hear you cry and whimper for him.
Maybe a slight breeding kink, since he loves the idea of filling you up to the brim with his thick cum, (this goes regardless of afab or amab), he's going to fill you up regardless if it's biologically possible to impregnate you or not. It's just for fantasy anyway.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do):
He will do it anywhere he feels like. He doesn't care who sees. You're his and he likes everyone around you to know it.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going):
I love that most everyone agrees that wearing his clothes makes him fucking feral. He would lose it seeing you in a shirt of his...or maybe even naked and only wearing a flannel. Slowly unclasping each button to make him growl and almost rip the damn thing off you.
N = No (something they wouldnât do, turn offs):
He'd never want to hurt you. There are things he likes that might harm you but he doesn't actually want to cause you harm.
He can be rough and he doesn't want to actually hurt you. A spank or choking just enough to get you dizzy is about as far as he would go. Logan would never intentionally try to harm you, especially during something as intimate as sex.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.):
He has a hard time picking what he likes better. He loves diving between your legs and lapping you. But he also loves to see you choke around his thick cock.
Logan loves the dirtiness of it, his dick in your throat and watching you try your best to please him. He loves seeing you choke and gag on him, your face gets so sloppy with spit and cum, it makes him more crazy in bed when he's fucking you.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.):
With Logan it can be 50/50. He can be rough and hard, or slower and passionate. Most of the time he is ensuring you cum multiple times, and then he fucks you into the bed while you cry around his cock. Then, he gives you another orgasm, he cums, and the cycle repeats until you literally can't take it anymore.
Then he cleans you up and makes sure you know how good you were for him. You'll have trouble walking for a few days.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.):
He's down for a quickie, he can make you cum fast when he wants to. However he does prefer to make you whine and beg instead of giving you a solid, quick orgasm unless you really need it.
Sometimes he needs a quick one too, so a fast blowjob helps. But again, he likes to take his time rather than rush it.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.):
He takes plenty of risks. He loves to test the waters with you and experiment with all sorts of things. He's down to try almost anything.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?):
His mutation allows him to have enhanced stamina so be prepared for that.
He can go for literal hours and not be tired at all. His mutation also allows his refectory period to be very short. So...you will be filled to the brim.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?):
I don't think he would have any for himself, but he would start to grow a collection if you had any or showed interest in some. He'd keep them under his bed in his room whenever you wanted to spice things up.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease):
Logan is the king of teasing you. He loves to tease until you can't take it and tears are rolling down your cheeks.
He always gives you what you want in the end, but not without that asshole making you beg.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.):
He doesn't give two shits who hears him, or you, he is loud. He grunts, groans, snarls. Not to mention the insane level of dirty talk he does, and he loves to make you scream out his name.
By the time you're done, you swear half the mansion heard you.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character):
He dirty talks like crazy.
Sometimes he will fuck you when you're wearing his clothes, or when he comes back from a mission, he doesn't bother cleaning up before he storms up to your shared room and he fucks you.
Angry sexxx
He lets out his frustrations from missions as he pounds into you.
"Goddamn slim, stupid fuckin' self-designated leader thinks he can boss me around like I'm nothin' but a loyal scout to 'em." he grunts and snarls with each plap of his hips into you, his cock driving against you. You have no idea what happened on the mission but can you complain? No.
X = X-ray (letâs see whatâs going on under those clothes):
Logan's dick is huge let's get that out of the way.
He's thick, it feels like he rips you open each time he penetrates you and it feels fucking incredible. That also means lots of foreplay~
He's veiny, his cock throbs as he stands erect, and his balls are heavy.
He's a good 8 to 8.5 inches fully erect, the damn thing leaks precum constantly when he's horny.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?):
Insanely high. He will fuck you every single day if he could.
He is down to fuck all the time, anytime. You just have to say the word and he's on top of you.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards):
Logan makes sure you're comfortable before he even attempts to sleep. He stays awake, letting you curl into him and he watches you, making sure nothing he did was too much or causing pain.
Once you seem okay and have fallen asleep, he will allow himself to relax and fall asleep beside you.
Thanks for reading.
*SNIKT*
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dividers by @/strangergraphics
#logan howlett#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett smut#wolverine#wolverine xmen#wolverine smut#wolverine x reader#x men#xmen#x men smut#đ my works#deadpool and wolverine
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Represention of Autistic Frustration in Laios Dungeon Meshi
Like many other autistic people, I related strongly to Laios Touden while reading Dungeon Meshi. This post isn't going to spend time disputing whether he displays autistic traits or notâwhile I could do that, I want to focus on why specifically his portrayal struck a chord with me in a way the writing of most other autistic-coded characters has not.
Disclaimer: as the above suggests, this post is strongly informed by my own experiences as an autistic person, as well as the experiences of my neurodivergent friends with whom I have spoken about this subject. I want to clarify that in no way am I asserting my personal experience to be some Universal Autistic Experience. This post is about why Laios' character feels distinct and significant to me in regard to autistic representation, and while I'm at it, I do feel that I have interesting things to say about autistic representation in media generally. This also got a bit long, so I'm sticking it under a read more. Spoilers for up to the end of chapter 88 below.
The thing that stands out most to me in regard to Laios' characterisation is the open anger he displays when someone points out his inability to read other people. This comes up prominently in his interactions with "Shuro" (Toshiro Nakamoto):
The frustration pictured above (Laios continuing to physically tussle with Toshiro, using crude language toward him) becomes even more notable when you remember that this is Laios, who, outside of these interactions, is not easily fazed and often exists as a lighthearted contrast to the rest of the cast. Then we get to Laios' nightmare.
In Falin's words: "Nightmares love emotional wounds. Wounds you hold in your heart. Things that give you stress, or things that were traumatic for you. They aggravate memories like that and cause the dreamer to have terrible dreams." (chapter 42, page 10.) (damn. i'm properly citing for this post and everything.)
Thus, Laios' nightmare establishes an important fact: even if he is unable to recognise social blunders while he's making them, he's at least subconsciously aware that other people operate on a different wavelength to him, and that he's an outsider in many of his social circles (both past and present). His dream-father's disparaging words stress the impact this has had upon his ability to live up to the expectations set out for him, and we also get a panel of kids who smirk at him (presumably former bullies to some degree). Toshiro's appearance only hammers home how much Laios is still both humiliated and angered by his misunderstanding of their relationship.
I've thought a lot about anger as concomitant to the autistic experience. When autistic representation portrays ostracization, it's generally from an angle of the autistic character being upset at how conforming to neurotypical norms doesn't come easily to them; as a result, they express a desire to 'get better' at meeting neurotypical standards, a desire to become more 'normal' (whether the writing implies this is a good thing or not). In contrast, not once does Laios go, "I need to perform better in my social interactions, and try to care less about monsters, because that's what other people find weird." His frustration is directed outward rather than inward, and as a result, it's the people around him who are framed as nonsensical.
The Winged Lion starts delineating Laios' anger, and Laios' reaction is to think to himself, "It can sense all my thoughts, huh?" (chapter 88, page 16.) This is the scene that really resonated with me. I'm not saying I have never felt the desire to conform to neurotypical norms that is borne from insecurity, but primarily, I know that I don't want to work toward becoming 'normal'âI don't want to change myself for people who follow rules I find nonsensical. It's the difference between, "Oh god, why can't I get it," and, "WHY CAN'T YOU GET IT?" (phrasing here courtesy of my friend Miles @dogwoodbite). And for me personally, Dungeon Meshi is the first time I've seen this frustration and the resultant voluntary isolation from other people portrayed in media so candidly. Laios' anger is not downplayed or written to be easily palatable, either.
The culmination of Laios' frustrations in this scene wherein we learn that Laios has fantasised about "a pack of monsters attacking a village" drives home just how alienated he really feels. I need not go into his wish to become a monster himself, redolent of how many autistic people identify/have identified with non-humans to some degree as a result of a percieved disconnect from society (when I was younger, I wanted to be a robot. I still kind of do.)
Obviously, wishing death upon other people is a weighty thing, but the unfiltered nature of this page is what deeply resonated with me. The Winged Lion is laying Laios' deepest and most transgressive desires bare, and they are desires that are a product of lifelong ostracization by others (whether intentional or unintentional). This is the brand of anger I'm familiar with, and that my neurodivergent friends express being familiar with, but that I haven't seen portrayed in writing so explicitly beforeâin fact, it surprised me because most well-meaning autistic representation I've experienced veers toward infantilisation in trying make the autistic character's struggles easy for neurotypicals to sympathise with.
Let's also not neglect the symbolism inherent to Laios' daydream. "A pack of monsters attacking a village". Functionally, monsters are Laios' special interestâhe percieves everything first and foremost through his passion for monsters. His daydream of monsters attackingâkillingâhumans, is fundamentally a daydream of the world he understands (monsters) overthrowing the world that is so illogical to him, that has repeatedly shunned him (other people). I joked to my friends that it's an autistic power fantasy, and it actually sort of is. And in it, his identity is aligned with that of the monsters, while his anger manifests in a palpable dissociation from the rest of humanity. This is one manga page. It's brief. It's also very, very raw to me. I think about it often.
To conclude, I love Laios Dungeon Meshi. This portrayal of open frustration in an autistic character meant a lot to me, and I hope I've sufficiently outlined why. Also, feel free to recommend media with autistic representation in the notes if you've read this farâI would really like to see if there is more of this nature. Thank you for reading. I'm very tired and should probably sleep now.
#dungeon meshi#dunmeshi#laios touden#shuro#toshiro nakamoto#the winged lion#autistic#autism#clay writes#i GUESS#this was so spur of the moment. im so busy right now i dont have time to be analysing laios touden#i wuont angry autistic rep..
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open wide | park seonghwa
pairing: park seonghwa x afab!reader
word count: 5.7K
summary: you start working at a restaurant and everything seems to be going well; you work hard, you made friends, and even when you mess up, your coworkers still have your back⌠except for the bartender, seonghwa.
warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, restaurant!au, bartender! and dom!seonghwa, enemies to lovers trope, HATE FUCK, oral (f and m receiving), pussy slapping, dick slapping, choking, hair pulling, edging, fingering, creampie, alcohol consumption, sex under the influence of alcohol (but both consenting), unprotected piv (WRAP IT UP BE SAFE), cumplay, dacryphilia, seonghwa is an asshole and reader is strangely attracted to it, degrading, reader gives switch vibes, VERY descriptive smut scene [i have no shame], seonghwa is HUNG, use of pet names (princess, baby, good girl, little/dirty slut), woosan allegations LMAO, lmk if i missed anything! also feat. server/work bestie!ryujin, server!wooyoung and san, food runner!mingi, and restaurant manager!hongjoong.
authorâs note: me n my friend were talking about seonghwa and the thought of him *ahem* slapping his dick on ur face .. and it sent us into a spiral. i had to make dreams come true. thank u to @hausofmingi and T for being my beta-readers and for giving amazing feedback and ideas :-) this one goes out to all the restaurant girlies!
seonghwa was pissing you the fuck off.
working at a restaurant is already hard enough, but to have an enemy that you work with? itâs unbearable.
you were new to the industry when you started at the restaurant, and of course you got treated like you were stupid for the first few months. you almost expected it, since you had friends who worked at restaurants and they warned you that people will walk all over you for being âgreen.â you learned as fast as you could, making mistakes here and there. but eventually you felt as if you proved everyone there wrong; that you are a good server and you are hard working, despite your mistakes. you built a rapport with your coworkers, and they granted you grace when you needed it. everyone, except for him.
the bartender. god that fucking bartender. your manager hongjoong introduced you on your first day, and ever since youâve been butting heads.
âthis is seonghwa, our bartender,â hongjoong says, pointing out the black-haired man setting up the bar. âheâs been here since we opened, but heâs been in the industry for even longer.â
âoh, wow,â you exclaim, watching him splay out the non-slip mats around the bar.
âyeah, wow,â hongjoong laughs. âthis guy can pour exactly an ounce of liquor without even looking. and heâs fast. youâll learn a lot from him.â
the corner of seonghwaâs mouth quirks up in almost a smug way. heâs good and he knows it. with his legendary status came his cockiness.
âwell i gotta grab some paperwork for you to finish up,â hongjoong says as heads to the back. âiâll be back out in a sec.â
you stand by the bar, basically twiddling your thumbs. âitâs nice to meet you, iâmâ"
âlook, princess,â seonghwa interrupts. âas much as i love introducing myself to yet another newbie, i have more important things to do right now.â
and that was just the beginning, and not just for your newfound nickname.
the best way to sum up how he continues to treat you is from this one specific experience. you rang up drinks for your table, and you meant to put a vodka soda instead of a tequila soda. you noticed it right away so you immediately cancelled that order and rung it up correctly. you promptly went to the bar to tell seonghwa.
âhey, ignore that first ticket for the tequila soda, i sent a new ticket,â you called out. but when seonghwa turned, he had the drink already in his hand, looking like he was about to set it on the drink pass.
âoh.â
he grabbed the new ticket with his other hand, glanced at it briefly, looked at you, and then slammed the ticket onto the ticket spindle. he turned around and dumped the drink in the sink and started making the new drink.
âhey iâm sorry, it was a mistake,â you defended.
âyeah yeah, itâs fine, princess,â he said with an eye roll. he placed the new drink on the pass. you inspect his face, wondering if it really was fine. he scoffs and pushes the drink forward more. âjust take your drink and go, itâs way too fucking busy to be standing around talking.â
maybe it wasnât a big deal. maybe he was just in the weeds and was taking it out on you. thatâs the thing about restaurants, when youâre in the middle of service and everyoneâs running around, you kinda end up saying shit you donât mean. it was never anything personal. you knew that because at the end of service, youâd finish up closing with your coworkers and have a shift beer, laughing it off like it didnât happen. because it didnât matter in the end, it was just a restaurant.
but seonghwa never joined. even tonight, when you, the other servers, and even the manager were sat around the bar having your drinks, he just quietly broke down the bar.
âhey seonghwa,â hongjoong calls after him. âdonât worry about the bar, iâll take care of the rest of it. you guys had a really hard night. have your shift beer and chill.â
âno no, iâve got it. iâm just gonna finish up and get out of here.â you watch him as he lifts up the floor mats and starts mopping the sticky floor. you turn to your coworker, ryujin, whoâs sipping at her PBR.
âi think seonghwa hates me,â you say, just low enough under your other coworkers chatting.
âwhat?â she laughs. âno no, i donât think so. heâs just kind of an asshole.â
you glance over at him as heâs wiping down the back counters. you turn back to her.
âi donât know, heâs just always been kinda short with me.â you look down at your drink and fiddle with the tab. âi feel like he doesnât really like me. i donât know what i did.â
âlisten,â ryujin starts, placing a hand on your shoulder. âheâs short with everyone. shit, iâve been here like 2 years and i still know nothing about him. donât worry about it. heâs just here for a check like everyone else.â
you watch as seonghwa starts to walk back to the kitchen, lifting his sweatshirt off of his form, and a sliver of skin peeks at the small of his back just below his t-shirt. you canât look away until heâs out of your line of sight, and ryujin starts giggling next to you.
âwait a minute, do you like him or something?â ryujin whispers.
âno no!â you say. âitâs justâi feel like itâs easy for me to talk to everyone here. with him, he just brushes me off. and he started that stupid nickname. âprincessâ. it feels condescending.â
âwell i donât know,â ryujin shrugs. âi donât think he likes to mix business with pleasure anyway, in any form.â
you nod and look to see seonghwa back at the register, counting the cash and pulling out tips. he walks over and hands each server their share of drink tips, leaving you last. you look up at him, but he doesnât even look at you. he just places the money on the bar, and quickly turns to go back to the kitchen.
âokay,â you sigh. âwell iâm gonna get out of here, i gotta get some sleep. are we still on for sunday celebration?â
âum yeah dude. iâm gonna need it after we deal with the sunday service crowd.â ryujin grabs her bag and starts heading to the door with you.
âsunday celebration.â itâs kind of like a fucked-up weekly tradition your restaurant has. the weekend drives all of the staff mad and then after service sunday night, (since the restaurant is closed on mondays) pretty much everyone working grabs a shift drink and books it to the dive bar a couple streets over. is it healthy? absolutely not. but is it kinda weirdly cathartic? absolutely it is.
and you really really needed it after sundays service. you got stuck with a 15-top who had all sorts of allergies and dietary restrictions. like who the hell has a lettuce allergy? are they just making it up because they just donât like lettuce? and why the hell are you trying to order a house salad when the main ingredient is literally lettuce? plus their drink orders were nuts. a tequila on the rocks? JUST tequila? and whatâs worse is that the guy ordered like 4 of them. you just finished ringing in his 5th one.
you walk up to the bar to grab the drink (because damn seonghwa is fast) and look up to see him turning to you.
âhey, you gotta cut that guy off after that drink,â he says while shaking a cocktail in a shaker.
âyeah, thatâs probably a good idea,â you laugh dryly.
âyou shouldnât have even rang this one,â he says, setting the shaker down. âyou know thereâs a 4 drink max, right? thatâs like, a policy we have.â
âoh, i didnât know that i guess.â you stab the ticket on the spindle.
âyeah i guess not,â he says with a sharpness in his voice, and starts pouring the drink in the cocktail glass. âjust donât do it again, princess.â
yeah, maybe you didnât know that rule. but why does he have to talk to you like that? you start walking towards your 15-top, past the kitchen. you mustâve been really in your head about what seonghwa said because you completely missed someone yelling âcorner.â
what happened felt like hours long, but it was probably only a few seconds. the food runner mingi was walking out of the kitchen with 3 plates of food. when you were passing by the kitchen entrance, it was too quick to move, and down fell all 3 plates. it was a mess.
âoh my god mingi, iâm so sorry!â you exclaim. you immediately grab a broom and attempt to sweep what you can.
âdonât apologize to me, apologize to seonghwa,â mingi says meekly, picking up the pieces of broken plate. âit was going to his 2-top at the bar.â
fuck. you donât even want to look at him. you know heâs pissed. you finish cleaning the last bit of your mess while mingi goes back and asks for a refire on those dishes. as soon as you throw out the trash, you feel tears start to well up in your eyes. you canât cry in the front of house, itâs unprofessional. but you canât cry in the kitchen, unless you want the whole back of house to pester you with questions. the only solution was one place, every serverâs safe haven: the walk in freezer.
you close the frosty door behind you, letting out a deep sigh that turns quickly into a billowing cloud. then, the waterworks. you couldnât even help it, it all became too much. maybe it was out of frustration or stress, either way, you really needed this cry. tears stream down your face, turning cold on your cheeks from the freezing air.
it was mostly frustrating because the whole reason this happened was because of seonghwa. he snapped at you for not knowing some stupid rule, and it caused you to lose focus. itâs his fault.
just when you felt yourself calming down, the freezer door opens swiftly. it was him.
âyou wanna tell me why my tableâs food was refired?â seonghwa spits, anger in his eyes. âtheyâre gonna have to wait another 10 minutes and theyâve already been waiting for their food for 20.â
âseonghwa, please,â you huff, trying to hold it together. âcan i just have one more second?â
âno! i could be totally out of a tip from a table because of you.â
âdude, it was a mistake!â you defend. you feel backed into a corner. literally, the walk-in was tiny and you were basically pressed up against the cold wall with seonghwa hovering over you.
âyou keep making these stupid mistakes. i donât know why they even hired you, you know fucking nothing about restaurants.â
you stood in shock. you didnât know what to say. seonghwa had this fire behind his eyes that almost scared you. his chest was puffing up and down, breathing heavily from adrenaline. a bead of sweat falls down his temple, threatening to fall from his face. why did suddenly⌠he look so⌠attractive? you were so confused by how your body was reacting. instead of pure hatred, suddenly you felt a pang of lust. what the hell was happening to you?
âyou owe me, princess,â seonghwa mumbles.
and in a blink of an eye, he withdraws from the walk-in and slams the door behind him, leaving you completely disoriented.
at the end of service, you were BEAT. you slump back into the bar seat, crack open your shift drink, and take a hefty gulp. ryujin jumps into the seat next to you, already drinking her usual PBR.
âdude, tonight SUCKED,â she groans.
âtell me about it,â you mutter, counting your cash tips. âat least they tipped well, but at what cost?â
âthe cost of my fucking sanity, thatâs what,â ryujin whines. âplease tell me youâre still down for celebration. please please pleeeease?â
âoh i am so down,â you say. you look at your other coworkers. âsan, woo? you coming?â
âyou bet i am,â wooyoung chuckles, gathering up his stuff. âiâm heading there now. câmon san.â
san stands and starts heading out the door with wooyoung but then turns back. âwait, seonghwa, are you finally gonna come to sunday celebration?â
seonghwa places down the wine glass he was polishing. âmaybe. weâll see.â he turns to hang up the glass on the rack and for a moment, just a moment, he makes eye contact with you. you look away immediately and decide to put your attention back on your beer. you chug whatâs left of it and toss the can in the trash.
âryujin, letâs go."
you and your fellow servers took the booth in the back of the bar, your usual spot. a couple of them were complaining about the tables they had, some were playing an intense game of darts, while you nursed your mixed drink as ryujin rants about her situationship.
wooyoung slips into the seat next to you, grabbing his beer on the table. âremind me to never play darts with san again. heâs way too competitive.â
you laugh, âyou know, you say that, but you always end up playing with him every sunday.â
wooyoung chuckles as he shrugs. he then looks around the bar. âwait, didnât seonghwa say he was coming?â
âhe said he MIGHT come,â san says as he slides into the booth. you can feel yourself retreating as soon as his name was brought up. âbut you know him. he never hangs out with anyone outside work.â
âheâs probably still scrubbing the bar,â the food runner mingi chimes in. âthat dude is a clean freak.â
ânothing wrong with that at a restaurant!â san says.
âhey iâm gonna grab another drink,â you mumble, standing up. âiâll be right back.â
you walk over and lean against the bar and wait patiently for the bartender to get to you. you look around, sort of people-watching the sunday crowd. itâs all industry people, you know it. you turn your head back to see the bartender facing you.
âwhat can i get you?â
âoh, iâll just take a vodka cran,â you force a smile. he nods and turns to make your drink.
âa vodka cranberry?â you hear a chuckle next to you. âi thought your go-to would be different.â
you look over and see seonghwa leaning on the bar and looking over at you. he wasnât wearing his work clothes like youâre used to seeing him in. he was wearing jeans and a black tank with a leather jacket. he looked different. he lookedâŚ. really good.
âoh, you made it,â you say, trying not to sound annoyed. you gather yourself a bit. âoh, donât judge me for my drink choice, okay? as much as i love our free shift drinks, i donât really drink beer outside of work.â
âah, i see.â he nods, definitely uninterested, and looks at the bartender who had already set your drink down and was waiting for you to pay. you dig through your bag, struggling to find your wallet. seonghwa notices and sighs. âiâll just get this one and iâll get a jack and coke.â
âyou didnât have to do that,â you look up to him in confusion.
âitâs whatever, just take your drink,â he doesnât even look at you as the bartender hands his drink over and grabs seonghwaâs card that he set on the bar.
âoh. well thank you.â you sip at your drink. âiâm going back to the booth.â
he grabs his jack and coke and takes a quick drink. âdarts?â
âum, okay?â you stutter, watching him walk past you to the dart board in the corner, and then following him with a look on your face that could only be described as complete and utter confusion.
âsan, woo, wanna play teams?â you call across to your coworkers. they perk up and immediately jump over to the dartboard.
âme and san versus you and seonghwa?â woo asks, rubbing his palms together with a chuckle. âletâs say loser buys drinks?â
âiâm not really good at this,â you say laughing. âbut iâll do my best.â
âoh, great,â seonghwa scoffs as he writes both of your initials in the chalkboard by the dartboard. âjust show me what you got.â he grabs the darts and places them in your hand, touch lingering a little longer than needed.
âyou know,â you say to seonghwa as you close out 18 on the chalkboard, then passing the darts to san. âi really wasnât expecting you to come out tonight.â
âweâve begging him for what seems like years, man,â san chimes in, attempting but eventually failing to hit bullseye. yet somehow team woosan is still beating you. he grabs the darts to hand to seonghwa.
âyeah, what changed?â wooyoung says as he leans against a chair.
âi wasnât really expecting to come out either,â seonghwa admits. âi guess i wanted to see what sunday celebration was all about.â he closes out 17 and 19. why is he so good at everything?
âi mean itâs just all of us getting drunk to get over a shitty shift,â you watch as he tosses the darts to wooyoung for his turn. âso itâs really not much.â
âdid you have a shitty shift?â he asks, turning to face you directly.
âw-well, yeah,â you mumble, uncomfortable by the attentiveness. woo quickly hands the darts to you and goes back to a conversation heâs having with san. you look down at the darts in your hands. âlook, i know i made a mistake but i really didnât know that rule about the drinks. and it got me in my head and then mingi came with your tableâs food andââ
he rolls his eyes. âyou just make a lot of rookie mistakes. youâll learn.â
you completely abandon the game of darts at this point. âdude, you gotta stop talking to me like that.â
âlike what?â he says with a smirk. does he think this is funny?
âlike you think iâm stupid or something,â you say, slightly pushing his shoulder. âiâm not stupid. yeah, youâve been in the industry way longer than me, but we all have to start somewhere.â you grab your bag and walk over to the booth, san and woo protesting behind you. you slouch next to ryujin with a sigh.
âwhat the hell just happened?â ryujin questions, looking back at seonghwa by the dartboard.
âseonghwaâs being a dick to me, once again.â you exhale deeply. âletâs get another drink.â
as the night went on, your coworkers start filing out one by one. san and wooyoung were one of the last to leave together (something going on there?) and youâre left in front of the bar, struggling to find an uber. your apartment is definitely walking distance, but not at this time of night. the real issue was getting a fucking ride. every uber was at least 20 minutes away. you looked back through the bar window and saw the bartender starting to close up. shit, itâs almost 1 am. you look back down to your phone and consider downloading lyft for maybe the 2nd time in your life.
âwhat are you still doing here?â you hear a voice behind you. you look back and itâs seonghwa, pulling his keys out of his pocket.
âi should be asking you the same thing,â you mutter. when will he leave you alone?
âcanât find an uber?â he questions, pointing down at your phone.
âyeah, its fine though,â you brush him off.
âyou live close by right?â he asks, annoyance in his voice. âiâll just drop you off.â
âno, really,â you huff. âi donât need your help.â
âlook princess,â he looks to you intently. âiâm not gonna let you wait outside a bar at this hour. iâm not that big of an asshole.â
you consider for a moment. heâs definitely right. itâs late, and staying outside a closed bar this late can lead to trouble.
âfine. but stop calling me princess.â
when he pulls up to your apartment building, you start to have an internal war with yourself. you canât help but have this anger in the pit of your stomach thatâs eating you up.
âyou look deep in thought,â seonghwa says impatiently.
âyeah, uh,â you mumble. âi just.. i need to know, why do you hate me?â
seonghwa pulls the car in a spot and parks. âi donât hate you, necessarilyâŚâ he starts.
âyou just think youâre better than me?â you pry, irritated.
âi mean, i have been in the industry longer than youâŚâ he smiles smugly.
âthere you go again,â you throw your hands up, hatred scratching at your throat. âyou are so belittling to me! you think youâre hot shit, huh?â
âdo you think i am?â he smiles at the corner of his mouth, and lets out a dry chuckle.
âi think i canât fucking stand you.â
he looks intently at your face, and you swear, he glances at your lips.
and thatâs when he leans in and kisses you. it takes you by complete surprise, and you pull back. you look at each other with a newfound yet curious lust. for a beat, for just a moment, you both look at each other with the same understanding. you want to kiss him again. you grab his face and pull him back in. the kiss was all-consuming. you feel a wave of energy course through you, as if every neuron in you was lit up. it was almost dizzying. he holds the side of your face, grazing past your ear and the holding the nape of your neck. every touch felt like fire.
he slides his tongue through your lips and deepens the kiss, which makes you melt more into him. you feel his arm wrap around your waist and moves you closer. you felt a rush of heat run through you, but then seonghwa pulls back slightly.
âletâs go inside?â he asks, his voice low.
with no reply, you both get out and you take him up to your apartment and to your room, closing the door behind you. he stands close to you, pushing you up against the door and kissing you up your neck and jaw until his lips meet yours again. he slots his leg between yours and presses himself against your heat, grinding as he devours you.
you turn to push him against the wall and sank down to your knees.
âfuuuck,â he groans, smiling as he slips his shirt off. âi like this view.â
âshut up, asshole,â you snap as you unzip his jeans, pulling them down. you look up to see a bulge pressing through his black underwear. god, you can tell itâs fucking big. you graze your fingers over it, teasing him. he lets out a heavy sigh, and you feel him twitch under you.
âi need you to touch me now,â he says grabbing the back of your head.
âyeah? or what?â you tease, just barely holding the length of him.
âcâmon princess,â he says with a cocky smirk. that fucking nickname. he moves his underwear down to reveal his hard cock hanging heavy by your lips. your mouth opens as you stare up at his length. heâs really big. âoh baby, are you already cock-drunk before even touching it?â
you sat in shock at the sheer size of him. he grabs your chin and moves himself closer to your face.
âopen,â he says, tapping his dick on your lips. you open up to take him in your mouth, with him groaning at the warm, wet feeling.
twirling your tongue around his length, you earn a pleased moan from seonghwaâs lips. you take as much of him as you can in your mouth, nearly gagging but pushing through. you can feel him twitching in the back of your throat, which makes you hum with satisfaction.
âyeah,â he hisses, pulling his length out a bit and slowly thrusting back into your mouth. âtake my cock just like that, baby.â
he pushes into your throat and pulls out again, this time out completely. a string of saliva still connects between his dick and your lips. he grabs himself and slaps it on your face by your open mouth, your jaw going slack and your tongue out to taste him.
âahh, such a good girl,â he smirks down at you, slapping his dick on your face again. he grabs a fistful of your hair and pushes your mouth back on his cock.
you grab the base and start sucking like your life depends on it, going from the base to the tip, where you swirl your tongue around him. you regain a little control back, stroking and twisting up his length and sucking at his tip, and you can taste the precum pooling into your mouth. you feel him thrusting into your throat, tugging at your hair and pushing you deeper onto him. you canât help but let out a whimper at the feeling.
âfuuuck, you like that, you little slut?â he tugs you off his cock by your hair. âyou like when i fuck your mouth? keep doing that for me.â
you lost all control in that moment. you can only do as youâre told. you open your mouth like a good girl, and suck. he pistons into you, hitting the back of your throat over and over. tears prick the corners of your eyes, but you donât care. you only want to please him. you moan onto his cock, forcing yourself to not gag from his size. the vibrations in your throat only drive him more mad, and you can tell from his deep moans and the hardening of his cock. heâs definitely close.
the grip around your hair tightens while he continues to bob you up and down his cock. your eyes flutter shut and tears start to fall down your cheeks, and you hold his thighs, nails digging crescents into his skin. he continues to hiss and moan in praise, loving the way youâre sputtering around his cock and leaving spit running down your chin. you take all the power left in you to lap at the underside of his cock, causing him to groan loudly and pull you off of him.
âopen wide for me, princess,â he says, stroking himself above you. you obey and lay your tongue flat for him, ready to take his load. he lets out a long moan, spurting all around and into your mouth. you lick up every drop remaining from his tip as he comes down from his high.
just as you regain your composure, heâs helping you take your shirt off and kissing your spit and cum covered mouth. he pushes you backwards until the back of your legs hit the edge of the bed. you fall back and let him slide your pants off, leaving you just in your bra and (fucking soaked) underwear. he falls to his knees as he goes down to kiss your inner thighs, inching closer and closer to your wet heat. when he goes to lick the wet spot in your underwear, licking a stripe up to your clit, you let out a small gasp.
âso sensitive,â he grins, lifting his head up and moving to take off your underwear. he grabs your thighs and pushes your legs back so your pussy is in full view for him.
âand so fucking wet for meâŚâ he trails off before he dives down to devour you.
he laps at your wet hole, savoring the taste and the way it contracts around nothing. his tongue leads up to your clit, earning a sharp moan from you. liking the way you sound, he does the same pattern, making you whine with pleasure. he looks up to you, a moaning mess, and flicks at your bud teasingly, as if heâs mocking you. he hums in amusement.
âhold this,â he releases your leg for you to grab, keeping you spread open for him. he places his fingers on your clit, circling a bit before dipping down to your hole, just at the surface. you canât help but clench. âso eager.â
he plunges his middle two fingers into you, your tightness gripping around him. he lowers his mouth back to your clit, swirling around as he begins finger fucking you. heâs eating you like heâs fucking starved. the stimulation had you gripping the sheets, whimpering.
he hums against your pussy, kissing and sucking at your clit. âmmm, fuck,â he smiles with a moan. âso goodâŚâ
you canât help but grab the back of his head, gripping onto his hair while he works his fingers and mouth on you. he twirls his tongue around your clit all while curling his fingers in you, hitting that sweet spot.
âs-seonghwa,â you let out. âdonât stop, it feels so fucking good.â
out of defiance, he pulls off of you completely, your legs dropping down and making you ache from the loss of being filled. you canât help but buck your hips up, desperate for him to touch you. he runs his hand back onto your pussy, spreading his fingers around your bud, avoiding touching it. and then, he slaps your wet cunt. you wince, partly from pain, but also from the stimulation. your bundle of nerves prickles and reddens the wet skin.
âmmm, dirty slut,â he laughs dryly, sadistically. âso desperate to cum. you want to cum for me?â
you nod, a little too impatiently.
âtell me.â he circles his fingers around your dripping hole again.
âfuck,â you let out, exasperated. âplease, seonghwa. please let me cum.â
with a smirk, he drives his fingers back into you and latches onto your clit, working at a steady but meticulous pace. when your hips start grinding against his mouth, he holds you down, and continues working you. he swirls his tongue around your clit just right, and massages at your sweet spot. you feel your orgasm building in your stomach, like a cord about to snap. you feel heat rush through your entire body like a wave.
âiâm cumming,â you barely moan out, completely overtaken by pleasure. seonghwa relentlessly works you through it, moaning against you as you climax. he laps at your clit, trying to get every drop of your orgasm. he doesnât stop until you have to grab his head and lift it.
he looks up at you with an intense lust in his eyes, and his mouth and chin soaked from your juices.
âyou drive me fucking crazy,â you sigh as you watch him stand up and lean over you. he pushes you back to the head of the bed, on his knees and slotting between your thighs.
eating you out must have really turned him on, because his cock is hanging heavy between you, red and leaking with precum. he guides his dick up and down your sensitive cunt, gathering your wetness up to stimulate your clit. he groans looking down at the sight.
he eases his way into you, gripping your thighs to keep from snapping his hips into you. your mouth goes slack at the sensation, and you try to stifle back a moan. he inches his way into you, thrusting slowly until he bottoms out.
âfuck, princess,â he sighs, and he feels you clench around his length.
he leans forward to hover over you, slowly thrusting into your heat. he grabs the nape of your neck and kisses you deeply, letting you moan in his mouth. each thrust he pounds into you makes you melt into each other more, desperate to feel every inch of one another. the rolls of his hips hitting deep caverns of your cunt makes you dizzy from stimulation. the squelching sound of your wet pussy makes him pull away, now grabbing at your throat hard enough to where it hurts a little, but hurts so good.
âtell me youâre my little slut,â he spits at you, thrusting deeper inside of you.
âi-iâm your little slut,â you say between moans, completely lost in his trance. he has all the power over you.
he releases your neck and lifts one of your legs over his shoulder, making him reach a completely new angle inside of you. he pistons into you with determination, and reaches down to toy with your clit. you begin to see stars.
âyouâre so fucking tight,â he hisses, relishing the squeezing of your core.
his hips snap into a faster pace, all while mercilessly thumbing at your clit. the stimulation becomes all too much for you, and you feel yourself reaching another high.
âoh my god donât stop, please seonghwa donât stop,â you moan, unintentionally clenching around his length.
âyeah baby, cum on my cock,â he smiles down at you. âjust like that.â
you canât even think, all you can grasp is how good this man feels on top of you, how good he feels in you, how full you feel. your breath hitches as a wave of pleasure courses through your body, sending you into a blissed out state. your moans are matched by seonghwa, him fucking your contracting cunt, as if itâs begging to milk him dry. he continues to thrust into your overstimulated core until he releases his hot ropes of cum into you, completely filling you up.
he finally slows down his movement, both your breathing heavy and irregular. he pulls out of you with a hiss, watching your pulsing core as his release slowly spills out of you.
âjesus christ,â he groans at the sight. as if he couldnât resist, he brings his head down and licks up your core, swallowing the liquid. once every drop is savored, he lifts up to level with you. he then places a kiss on your lips, suddenly soft, and very unexpected.
without a word, he grabs you by the waist and holds you close, allowing you to rest your head on his chest. he softly brushes his fingers through your hair.
and just like that, you both drift off to sleep with only one thing on your mind. what just happened, and what the hell is going to happen next?
a/n: this is my first real fic on the internet yall!! im so new to this but i had so much fun. i hope u did too! stay tuned for part 2, but for now please leave feedback ⼠edit: part two is here :-)
#park seonghwa#ateez#ateez fanfic#ateez x reader#ateez smut#seonghwa smut#seonghwa fic#ateez fic#seonghwa x reader#ateez one shot#dom!seonghwa
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heyyyy ryyyyy <333
since ur requests are open i thought id go ahead and ask if you're mayhaps open to anything for batmom? i don't have a completely solid idea but maybe smn like batmom has been getting threats or maybe hate or smn from somebody and everyone's reactions and how they get hella protective?
obv no pressure and you definitely do not have to write this
hope you have a great day bb
Heyyyyy, so this grew hands and wrote itself, I hope you enjoy it. It did end up with a lot of backstory.
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You knew this would happen. Once your relationship with Bruce got out there would be an influx of love and hate. You also knew that everyone else knew that as well. It was common knowledge than anyone around a celebrity of sorts would experience that.Â
Of course you did the normal things, turned off most notifications and only looked through areas online you knew would mostly be safe. You blocked tags and and only followed people you knew or ones who didnât post about drama.Â
When you did stumble onto hate, you moved on. If someone kept sending you nasty messages you blocked them, when they made other accounts to keep sending the same things, you changed your settings so only those you followed could message you.Â
It wasnât something you wanted to deal with but it was something you could handle. Something you started mentally preparing yourself for when Bruceâs attention on you lasted more than 4 dates, even more so when you caught yourself daydreaming about him.
You were not going to let random bitter people on the internet destroy your happiness like they did their own. Your family however, wanted to destroy what was left of your haters' happiness. Something you were trying to curb, but trying to tell a family of vigilantes who considered you the best mom in existence not to destroy your haters was like talking to a brick wall. Over the years, you had gotten used to it. It barely even registered anymore. But there had been a recent influx of the hate and while it didnât bother you, it bothered the rest of your family. None of them could stand people talking bad about their mom.
While you hadnât been there while the older ones were young, the second you had introduced yourself to them, you had taken a very important role in their lives. None of them realizing it at first. All of them had gotten used to the random women Bruce brought home that it took a little while for them to realize how important you were.Â
Dick wasnât sure at first. Thinking you were just another girlfriend that wouldnât last long. So he didnât really interact with you much. Ignoring your existence when it wasnât too rude, or at least obviously rude. Until one night when he was staying at the manor and had a nightmare about his parents death.Â
Bruce had an open bed policy. As long as there was still room for him, his bed was open. A policy he had started when Dick had gotten old enough he was worried he wouldnât be allowed to go when he had a nightmare. Bruce had always reminded all his kids, that nightmares donât go away just because youâre older and that needing comfort wasnât something they would outgrow.Â
The thing was, you were there. Girlfriends didnât mind when children did it but they never liked it when his adult kids did it. The shaking in his hands and the way he saw them fall in the darkness of every blink told him the only way he was getting any sleep was with someone.Â
Hopefully he could just slip into Bruceâs side and leave before you woke up. That was the plan until he found Damian on Bruceâs side and you had been pulled closer to Bruce taking up what was left. You moved a little and Dick took that as his sign to deal with it himself until he heard you whisper his name. He hummed so you knew it was him and not some random stranger standing over Bruceâs side of the bed.Â
âNightmare?â
âYeah.â
âCome on.â You lifted the blanket next to you, âBruce told me you guys come here when you have nightmares. There's plenty of room over here for you.â Dick hesitated for a second before giving in. He needed sleep anyway. You werenât when you said there was plenty of room, Dick had most of your half of the bed. Once he had settled on his side, facing away from you, he felt you pull the blanket over his shoulders.Â
âNight Dick, sleep well.â For some reason, that was what did it. Once the tears started they didnât stop. Silent sobs made him shudder and he felt one of your hands gently rubbing his back. âOh Dick.â There was no pity in your tone and he found himself rolling over and curling into you. Your chin resting on his head while you rubbed his back.Â
The next day, he followed you around like a puppy. Your side of the bed became his favorite when he had nightmares and it wasnât long before he turned to you for general comfort over anything.
Jason met you at his grave. Neither of you exchanged words, but he caught something in your gaze he didnât quite understand. He also wasnât sure why you were at his grave either, he didnât know you when he was younger.Â
When he saw the Gotham News post about Bruce and Your 2nd anniversary, it brought more questions than answers. Why were you at his grave alone? Let alone longer than a few seconds. It was an odd way to gain more of Bruceâs affections.Â
Every Tuesday you would be there, leaving flowers and talking softly to the stone. Every time you left, you would smile and nod, the look in your eyes he couldnât figure out was still there. Every time he would strain to heat what you were saying and only be able yo a few words here and there.Â
6 months into it, the routine changed. You brought a blanket and Basket with your usual flowers. You did what you normally did with the flowers but instead of talking to the stone you waved him over. When he didnât move, you stopped what you were doing and looked at him.Â
âJason Todd, I have been keeping your secret for 6 months. Helping me spread this blanket and having lunch wonât change it.â He stared at you while you waited expectantly. Eventually when he could get himself to move, he came over and helped. He sat down where you motioned for him too, all while trying to figure out how you knew.
âBruce mentioned this used to be your favorite when you were younger so I asked Alfred to teach me how to make it. I hope it's up to your standards.â He looked at the plate of food you handed him. It was almost overflowing with food, all of which reminded him of the good times back at the manor before he died. âAlfred also sent your favorite cookies when he heard I would be eating at your grave.â The bag of cookies was placed next to the basket, within easy reach.
âWhy?â Was all Jason managed to choke out around the lump in his throat.
âI decided early on in life, no matter who I was with, I would love their family as my own. My grandfather hated my grandmothers side and it caused a lot of pain in all the generations. I decided I would never do that to another family.â Jason found himself back in control enough to start eating.Â
âSo when I started dating Bruce and he told me about you, I decided to treat you like you were my own. Even though I had never met you and you were dead. Most of what that meant was keeping your grave clean and always making sure there were fresh flowers. While I did that, I would tell you everything that was going on.â
âHow did you know it was me?â
âYour eyes, they may be a different color but they looked too similar. So I did a little digging and found pictures of your biological pictures to place the face shape it matched. I think however you look more like Bruce then either of them.â
âAre you going to tell them?â
âAs much as I would love to. Itâs your choice. Youâve been keeping this to yourself for a reason. If I can help you get to a place to tell them, I would love to. But I wonât say a word until you're ready. However, I would like to keep having lunch with you.âÂ
A year later, Jason reintroduced himself to the rest of the family a lot calmer than originally planned and was glued to your side anytime he felt overwhelmed that night. Every Tuesday after that, lunch was scheduled.
Tim was nervous when it came to you. He was still living in the manor so he saw you more than the older two. You always seemed nice and respected his privacy but Bruce was always with you so you obviously would.Â
It was when he wasnât around that worried Tim. Bruce attracted golddiggers and they were always mean when Bruce wasnât there. When you were given a copy of the key, Time braced himself.Â
Of course he knew that if he told Bruce anything that happened like that, Bruce would break it off. He had always told them that they came first. But he also knew that Bruce liked you a lot. All the other ones Bruce liked a lot that turned out to be horrible, he broked it off. Tim had seen how it had made him upset and he really hated doing that to him. Maybe he could deal with it for once.Â
So when Bruce left for a business trip, Tim was Expecting the worst. What he didnât expect was for you to knock on his door and ask if you could join him. When he agreed and stepped back so you could come in. He expected you to go to his bed or his desk chair not, the oversized bean bag on the floor.
âI have a question for you but you canât tell Bruce yet.â Here it comes. âWhat would a funny way to tell him I know heâs Batman?â Tim wasnât expecting that one. âI was thinking a lot of batpuns but his paranoia is too bad for that.â
âHow did you figure it out?â You walked him through your process and didnât say anything as he wrote parts of it down. Once you finished explaining the process for Bruce, you explained any way it was modified in figuring out their identities.
âWho do you think I am?â
âRed Robin.â Tim found himself getting excited.Â
âYou know those notes you leave him in his office?â You nodded. âYou should leave those in the Batcave.â You considered it but your thinking was interrupted but Tim shouting.Â
âNo! One night when weâre all in the cave, you could bring some snacks!âÂ
âYou just want snacks when heâs lecturing you donât you?â
âMaybe..â
âAlright, but you have to tell the others so they can tell me what snack they want.â
So Tim slowly and carefully went through all his siblings, letting them know you figured it out, Bruce didnât know, and what the plan is. Every time he relayed a snack to you heâd watch how carefully youâd write it out to make sure you had it correct or look up recipes if you couldnât find it in stores.Â
Two weeks later, Tim was the one who sent the signal in the middle of a lecture everyone was receiving and he got a front row seat to see Bruceâs face when you walked in and handed out snacks before giving him a kiss and telling him to be nice and leaving.Â
Any other worries were left in the dust when you helped him win the nerf war for the best seat in the home theater. He thoroughly enjoyed his spot next to you while Bruce swore revenge from the other side of the room.
Damian treated you politely but that was it. His mother was still alive and he didnât want another one, one was more than enough. Not only that, but you were weird.Â
One time when you were over, you found one of his report cards. Immediately you were praising him. He didnât understand why, he had basically failed one of his classes with an A-. You should be disappointed like his mother would be, not hanging it up on the fridge and telling people not to touch it. Definitely not taking him out for ice cream and calling him so smart. He definitely shouldnât be feeling any pride when he walked past it, but he still was.Â
When he was practicing his violin and Messed up, you were supposed to tell him to stop failing, that he should be better. Not smiling at him and telling him heâs making good progress. You should be telling him that he should have memorized that piece in a day. He shouldnât be feeling any pride when he finally does memorize it, it took him 4 days to learn it.
When he was struggling to learn a language, you were supposed to tell him to work harder. He could do better, after all, he already knew so many. Instead you just smiled and recommended a break to refresh his mind.Â
When he snapped at you in Arabic, he expected you to be upset since you didnât know what he said and it was obviously not something nice. Instead you set the rule that if he was going to use Arabic to speak to you when upset, that he had to teach it to you and if what he said wasnât something you had learned yet, he had to tell you in english. When he told you what it meant, you didnât even get upset. He definitely shouldnât be as excited as he was when you actually started learning.Â
So many more little things piled up, leaving Damian confused. The differences between how you and his mother treated him was so big he didnât know how to process it, he liked you and all the little things made him happy in a way he hadnât really felt. But he still loved his mom, When he had enough of it, he asked you to stop. He still wanted to love his mom. Once again, you did something you werenât supposed to.
âOh Damian, Iâm not trying to replace your mom nor am I trying to make you feel like you canât love her or she doesnât love you. Your mom and I show our love in different ways and its ok for you to love or like both of us. You mother loves you and she will always be allowed in your life if thats what you want.â You werenât supposed to do that, but Damian was really glad you did.
Barbara wasnât sure how you would react to her. She wasnât just Bruceâs kid. She had a loving family she went back to every night. Most people werenât really a fan of that, one of Bruceâs past girlfriends had some strong and hurtful things to say about it.Â
When you took her for a day out, she found herself warming up to you but still waiting for the other shoe to drop. One of the new places you had planned to go, didnât have wheelchair access. Like all the other girlfriends who had done this, she expected you to be annoyed that your plans had to change or you would just leave her outside while you shopped.Â
You didnât seem to notice her hesitation, just looking at what was next on your list and starting the trip there. When Barbara stared a little longer at a new movie that was in theaters, tickets and snacks were bought and you listed to all the lore she told you about before it started.
While it had been a nice day, Barbara wasnât convinced. One day was easy to fake. Sure she had lots of fun, but Barbara was used to fakes when it came to Bruceâs girlfriends. Of course she wasnât complaining about you being nice, she just wasnât sure how long it would last.Â
âDid you hear about that boutique?â She looked up from her food to look at her dad. âThat new one that you tried to go to with Bruceâs girlfriend? Well there was a report that it didnât meet the Americans with Disabilities act and the boutique is in trouble. People are speculating theyâll have to close down.â
Later that night, Barbara looked into it. They were in trouble, pretty big trouble from the looks of it. Towards the end of the article she found the name of the person who reported it, she wasnât sure who she was expecting. Not you for sure but the Name Y/n L/n took her by surprise and filled her chest with feelings she couldnât describe.Â
The boutique ended up closing but a new one opened. Once it was open, you were the first to ask her to go. That weird feeling came back when she wheeled herself up the ramp and through the door you held open for her. Later that night, in the privacy of her room. She decided she liked you.Â
Steph seemed like she liked you, she acted like she liked you, she didnât really like you. Sure you were nice, Bruce loved you, the others were warming up to you, but she wasnât sure how to feel about you. So she stuck with not actually liking you but pretending to.Â
So when she was around you, it was all smiles and jokes. She wasnât a big fan of it all but she did it because she knew you were important to Bruce and that was enough of a reason for her. She knew Bruce and the others could see through the act but as long as you couldnât, that was enough.Â
When Bruce announced he had to leave for a business trip right before she could hand him the parents visit for one of her AP classes, something the new teacher liked doing. She tucked the paper away. When Tim gave her a questioning look, she shook her head and later swore him to silence.Â
Every time she heard someone mention their parents were going, she felt a pang of jealousy in her chest. Every time Tim mentioned bringing it up to you, she swore him into silence again. It wouldnât be the first time no one showed up for her. She was however thankful you wouldnât be at the manor as much so she didnât have to pretend to like you.
When the day arrived, Steph was not having a good day. School dragged on slowly. Slower than normal. When school finally ended, she had to sit in the classroom and watch everyone else that was in her class leave and the parents of her classmates show up while no one was there or coming for her.
Someone sat in the seat next to her, she expected another family member of one of her classmates. Definitely not you. She couldnât return your smile, too unsure of how you found out, the fact you actually showed up, and how she felt about you being there. You leaned a little closer so that the others in the room wouldnât easily overhear.Â
âI know Iâm not your parent and someone you just pretend to like so if you want me to leave I will. But I figured someone was better then no one. Oh, and Tim wanted me to tell you he didnât spill. Your teacher called the manor because no one had RSVPed for you and I answered it.â
That night, as Steph showed off all her hard work to you, the charade fell. She actually enjoyed her time with you and the boost of pride as you oohed and ahhed over all her projects and listened to her explain all the little details. That night, Steph realized, she didnât need to keep pretending. She liked you, until she found out you didnât like her favorite show but a nerf war solved that.Â
Cass could tell you were different then the other girlfriends, your body language as you interacted with all of them showed it. However that didnât mean she knew how to interact with you.
She had learned that she was fairly hard for new people to interact with. She also knew she had trouble interacting with people she wasnât fighting. So it wasnât a surprise when it started rocky.Â
What was a surprise, was when you found out she was still having trouble reading and writing, you stepped in to help. Well, that wasnât the surprising part, a lot of girlfriends did that. The surprising part was the amount of patience you had when it was only the two of you.Â
When one method didnât help, you tried another. Never once did you snap at her or call her a name. Everytime you got frustrated you would stop and look at her, say something along the lines of âIf I had as much trouble with this as you do, I wouldnât want to keep trying. You're doing absolutely amazing! Iâll keep looking for other ideas, but for now, lets take a break and get a treat.âÂ
Cass wasnât sure why that always made her feel better, but it did. Every treat you brought was something you made just for the tutoring sessions and it always reminded her of what Alfred had told her once. âSomething made with love for you will always taste better.â
And when a method that made it a little easier to learn was found, Cass found herself smiling along with your cheers. Bad days where she couldnât seem to make any progress were always met with the same excitement, cheers, patience, and treats that all the others were.Â
Cass still wasnât sure of what to think of you exactly, but she knew she liked you and that you cared about her.
So when Tim saw the new rise in hate, a sibling meeting was called. They all went through each site, blood boiling as they saw what people were saying about their new parent. Plans were made, declarations of war were ready, and anger fueled all of them. Bruce could tell something was going on, but he wasnât sure what it was and as long as it didnât get out of had, he wasnât sure if he had the energy to deal with it.Â
War was declared in an interview by Steph. The lady was asking questions when the topic switched to Bruce, then you. The reporter was clearly trying to subtly find some dirt on you and Steph was not going to stand for it.
âOh yeah! Y/n! Sheâs the best!â She put on her best press face. Trying to hide her anger over the hidden intent. She didnât have to lie or act when talking about you but the change in the ladyâs face going to disappointment when she didnât get anything she wanted was making her look very punchable.Â
âSheâs always showing up for us and making sure weâre doing ok. If Y/n and Bruce were to break up, I think most of us would go with Y/n.â The way the lady kept trying to get anything really got on her nerves and Steph decided she needed to get out of there before she started using the ladyâs face for target practice. You wouldnât like that.
Cass was the first one to resort to violence. They had asked a thinly veiled question, basically asking if you were a golddigger. So she punched him in the nose and leaned down to flip the camera off. She hated interviews already but that made it so much worse. She hoped you wouldnât be too upset with her punching the guy though.
Jason, surprisingly enough. Did not get violent⌠physically. He did however curse one out and threaten him when the reporter implied you were forcing them to say nice things. When the reporter kept pressing Jason broke his mic and told him if he ever heard him talking bad about you again, a broken mic would be the last of his worries. Jason knew you would be disappointed but he had held back, he didnât shoot the guy like he wanted.
Tim threw his coffee at one reporter because he heard them say you were nothing but a regular person who didnât deserve any attention. He then took over her segment, threatening the company to air it or he would make sure they went bankrupt. Once he finished his threats, anything he said was praising you name. Telling everyone how amazing you were and how much they all loved you.
Barbara made it a point to bring up everything you did for the community when they tried to throw some shade at you in an interview. She had documents to prove it and hacked their systems to add them into the interview so they couldnât claim it was fake. She also made sure to run over his foot when she left.Â
Dick punched a reporter when they tried to ask him what you were really like behind closed doors. He told them the truth, that you were just as good, kind, patient, and loving behind closed doors as you were out in public. He didnât throw a punch until the reporter disregarded that as asked again because she couldnât be that good. Dick knew a lecture would be coming once you saw, but he would rather sit through a lecture then let anyone tarnish your name.
Damian spent 10 minutes cursing and threatening a reporter in Arabic when they asked him if you had ever hurt him. When he was done, he told them in english, that if he ever got asked that question again, he would impale them. He knew you were going to make him sit down and translate everything and the general response you would give but he didnât care, no one speaks bad about either of his mothers.
Bruce figured out what was going on after Stephâs interview. He saw the ones where they assaulted or threatened the reporters and made sure his lawyers were on standby to keep the kids out of trouble. After all, he had seen more than they had.Â
He had watched as you tried to connect with Dick early on, how you worked hard to try and get somewhere. He had woken up before you when Dick had come in that night and heard how you handled it. He had woken up the next morning to find you holding Dick close, like you were trying to protect him from the nightmares. He had seen how you never turned Dick down when he wanted comfort, no matter how serious or silly the matter, and he had heard your excitement when you told him Dick liked you.
Bruce had seen the way you never missed a visit to Jasonâs grave, on a visit of his own, he saw how much care you showed the stone marking it as his lost son. While he hadnât been sure why it was alway the same time on Tuesday, he didn;t mention it. He felt the way you would sob in his arms after each visit, a year after the tradition started, you always said you had promised not to tell and he watched as you kept that promise even if it tore you to pieces. Once the shock and tears wore off for a little bit, he could see the trust that Jason had in you.
He heard the way you questioned if you should have a key to the manor, you didnât want to make Tim uncomfortable in his own home, or how you questioned if you should visit while he was gone. Not wanting to stress Tim out when there was no reason too. He saw the way you and Tim grinned at each other when you brought snacks down for all the kids he was currently lecturing. He head the excitement in your voice as you told him about the tour Tim had given you of the Batcave and the shared laughter as you and Tim worked together to win the nerf war.
Bruce saw how you worked to give Damian the affection he didnât think he needed. He felt you crying in his arms upset over the fact Damian thought you would be angry because he made a mistake or struggled in a class. He heard you practicing your Arabic as you got ready for bed and he watched as you stress paced over whether or not you said the right thing to him about his mother.Â
He saw how angry you had been when you came back from your day out with Barbara. He had heard your call with your lawyer as you tried to figure out what to do. He saw you going through the laws and making a list to make sure your lawyer didnât miss any. He heard about the movie you didnât particularly care about and the lore you remembered in case of another because you wanted Barbara to have someone she could tell all of her favorite things too.Â
Bruce saw the pictures you had taken from the school night. He heard all the details from you as you praised Stephâs work. He saw the way Steph stopped acting around you and the silly arguments the two of you would get into for fun. He heard the way you would listen to her as she verbally worked out her problems. He saw the way Steph looked for you in a crowd, the way she knew you were there but not where you stood exactly, the thought of you not being there never crossed her.Â
He saw the way you stayed up late, researching different ways to teach reading and writing. He heard the patience and kindness and you worked with Cass. He saw the way you always made a treat just for Cass to have after each lesson because you wanted to reward her hard work. He heard the way you cried for Cass when she had a bad day and got frustrated with herself because you knew she was smart and you wanted her to see it too. He heard your celebrations when Cass made any progress, no matter the size.Â
Bruce heard, saw, and felt the way you worked hard to have a relationship with his kids. How you had mourned for their losses, celebrated their wins, and felt their pain. He saw the way his kids blossomed under your care, growing to be better and more confident in themselves. The way you cared for them as if they were your own flesh and blood. So when he was asked about his kids behavior, he said as much.Â
âY/n has worked hard to be accepted by them. Sheâs given so much of her time, effort, patience, and love and never wanted anything in return. She always shows up for them, no matter what the occasion is, big or small, it doesnât matter. If they want her there, sheâll be there. Everytime they need or want her, sheâs there. She never judges them and treats them as if they were her own blood. Of course their upset and lashing out, people are insulting the woman who has cared for them more then most of their biological mothers.â
Later, a clip of you scolding Bruce and all the kids went viral. While you were scolding them over their behavior and making the kids who had reacted with violence or threats write apology letters because asking mean questions does not make it right to respond badly especially when its someone just trying to start drama. Everyone one noticed that there was no actual bite to your tone and no anger when they all refused to stop acting like that. In fact, there was a small soft smile on your face as you shook your head at your family.
#dc#jason todd#dick grayson#tim drake#fem reader#batman x reader#bruce wayne x reader#Damian wayne#cassandra cain#stephanie brown#barbara gordon#batfamily x reader#batmom reader#batmom#request#cipheress-to-k-pop
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These are a couple doodles from yesterday, Gideon as a younger teen, before the growth spurt, maybe 14? He's discovered he's a vampire, and has a lot of recovery to do, since he's severely blood deficient.
I'm gonna let myself explode about my vampire gideon ideas, under construction, under the cut: (I don't write fanfiction, I just throw up my ideas on a tumblr post, apparently :'D)
This is what I love about tumblr - it's a place where I can throw the doodles (something that isn't finished *artwork*), and let myself be really delusional about fictional characters. So I'm gonna take a moment to ramble about the ideas I have for Gideon as a vampire.
If you're a fellow Gideon Head, HI THERE... anyway, here's my thought process on a potential vampire-gideon backstory???
I've always liked the idea of gideon being a vampire, and also becoming a much better person when he's older. And that got me thinking, maybe those two things are linked. Maybe the vampire thing is somehow tied into his reformation.
But I tend to lean towards building my ideas off canon (as opposed to making an AU). And if gideon was a vampire, and knew this during the events of the show, it would have come to light at some point. So, either he doesn't know he's a vampire, or he becomes one later. Becoming one later works narratively, but he's already so vampiric, with the white hair, pale skin, sunscreen, evil, etc. So I'm like, let's go with that.
So, gideon has gone his whole life without knowing he's a vampire, and without drinking blood. I'm thinking that being a vampire in this case (my gravity falls fan version of what a vampire would be) wouldn't adhere to typical vampire conventions. You don't NEED to drink blood to survive.
Here's the idea I got yesterday: after the events of weirdmageddon, gideons experience motivated him to become a better person. It was the awakening, basically. But in the subsequent years, he's still a little shit. Maybe he's in juvenile detention, or prison again. But now, he has the self awareness to know that what he's doing is wrong. This is where my ideas get a little fuzzy, so bear with me. Bud has his suspicions, and as a last resort, puts gideon on some sort of mission trip type of cross country trip, when he's in his teens. And along the way, maybe at the end, there's this secret group of vampires that open gideons eyes to what he really is.
Basically??? Without blood, gideon is very evil. He's an evil little shit. This may not be how it is for every vampire. Maybe some grow very sickly without blood, just get hungry, etc. The effects of blood deficiency vary from vampire to vampire. But Gideon becomes very unhinged. And he'd essentially been Blood Hangry for his whole life. That being said, some of it was just his personality that he needed to work through, but drinking some blood helped a LOT. Blood isn't food for him, it's more like his medication.
Once he has that discovery, he spends a long while, I'm thinking maybe even a year, just recovering from the deficiency. He's almost always drinking blood to keep up his levels, and he's very rarely seen in public to keep the vampire thing a secret. That's what these drawings were supposed to be, him in his pseudo bedridden state. This period in his life would be one big blur; mostly spent binge watching soap operas and being all cozy. In contrast to his usual suit + tie, he's dressing for max comfort: sweatpants, sweatshirt, a knit hat over his ridiculously big hair, and always wrapped in a blanket. Not sure if somehow he feels cold when drinking blood?? But for some reason, I feel like he'd always be wearing like 10 layers and laying under a heated blanket or something.
Eventually, he'd only need to drink blood about once a month for maintenance.
Character development wise - even as an adult, Gideon isn't sure if he's truly a good person. Is the blood deficient version of himself the true gideon? Or is this well adjusted man who he truly is? And there's an issue of the chicken and the egg, too. Gideon was born a vampire. Did these genes activate because he was predisposed to being evil? Or did the vampire thing happen by coincidence? Does being a vampire make him evil, or is it the other way around? He doesn't know, and he never will.
The one thing I'm not sure I like about this idea: i'm worried that I'd be writing off his villainous personality as an illness that can be cured with a thing. Obviously, it would be better if he faced that head on, and figured out how to be better. So I'm still grappling with that. But for now, this is an idea I'm entertaining. Of course, I think it would be interesting if there was a plot point where his usual source of ethically sourced human blood was compromised for a time, and he had to grapple with his personality going topsy turvy.
It's actually embarrassing how much I just wrote???? If you've made it this far, wow, I applaud you. I guess this was just my idea of having a good sunday night, writing down my silly thoughts on gideon gosh darn gleeful. Let me know your thoughts too!!!! I'd love to know if you have any ideas, or questions, or ways to strengthen this potential backstory.
#gideon gleeful#gideon fanart#gravity falls#gravity falls fanart#gravity falls gideon#gideon#vampire gideon#vampire gideon gleeful#gravity falls headcanons#gravity falls headcanon#sketchbook#traditional drawing#traditional art#pencil drawing#doodles#my doodles#monster falls#sure why not
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the hand that feeds you
â âi take care of her, sâall.â
johnny mactavish x f!reader
cw: 18+ work - minors dni; age difference; daddy issues (kinda the central plot); cooking as a love language; slow burn but in high speed; a breath of angst; power imbalance; canon divergence - regular/non-military life au // amazing divider by @gildui! // 6.5k words
extra notes: this is a very self-indulgent work. there are holes in the plot, 100%, so ignore those holes pretty pls </3 also ik this is more of a captain johnny-verse but midway through, i started projecting so i mightâve written him incorrectly and im really sorry for that!!
being roommates with johnny is not as weird as it is; heâs amicable, at first, then full blown nice when days passed. heâs not loud, per se, but thereâs always a constant chatter streaming from his space, like he physically canât sit still through the silence which is great because you donât fare any better with the stillness too, so reminiscent of how it was in the suburbs.
you moved to a neighbourhood just skirting past the inner city just because itâs a lot cheaper. but even then, rent was always high and your little box in a rundown complex wasnât going to sustain you forever even if you wished it would. then, an opening in johnnyâs townhouse was posted, almost half-price than whatever is up in the market, and itâs great despite your skepticism. hell, itâs more than great â itâs lifesaving.
your shitty job at the bookstore really canât cover much of your expenses anymore, and sure student loans and the grant is great, but the growing debt makes you wince so itâs whatever at this point. youâre about to graduate soon anyway, pooling work experience from volunteering and club organizations, and itâs not like you can even go back to how it was.
(underway to law school, primed up before your fatherâs scrutiny but the burnout got to you before you could even write the LNAT. you realized that being a barrister wasnât really what you wanted so you changed programs, midway, and switched to childrenâs education.
god, the disappointment in your paâs eyes was so big, you knew to pack your shit before he could even kick you out.)
itâs⌠tough.
god, is it tough. none of your old friends and colleagues could stay in contact, which you donât hold against them because most of them, by now, have graduated and entered law school. youâre straggling about two years back because of the switch in programs, and everythingâs gone too tight. your budget. your social life.
your dating life.
johnny often distracts you from it all â he works in downtown, in one of those high-rise buildings often reserved for limiteds or holding companies, and has to travel off the city every three months. he makes good money, he said jovially, and you know itâs a nudge as to why your portion of the rent is cheap in the first place.
when you finally bit the bullet and asked why he put up one of the rooms in the market, johnny just shrugged and said he needed someone to house sit but sort off permanently. said something like last time he left, the pipes bursted and he couldnât really fly back to help with the repairs.
itâs great being with him. heâs bright and bubbly, but also dependable in ways you never really thought about. likeâ
well, itâs all mundane things so listing them feels embarrassing, and it makes you feel as though youâre a touch-starved damsel and johnny just so happened to be the next older man to give you any attention and his time. but you canât help it. god, you canât help preen at the way he exists beside you.
heâs just so⌠beautiful, is what it is.
rugged and charming and loud and filling. the townhouse is too big for the two of you, but johnny makes it work. makes it feel like the two of you just fit into each otherâs spaces.
early mornings are spent with him lilting between english and scottish, his exhaustion plastered onto him even after heâs downed two cups of coffee. he bumps his hip onto yours when he ambles out to prepare for his work, grumbling something like good morning and howâre you. afternoons are more lively and productive; itâs of you coming back from campus at six in the evening only to find him in the kitchen, fixing up dinner. itâs always something fancy and rich in flavour; something he always eats with wine on the side.
you, uh, you never thought he could actually cook, let alone feed himself well, but there he was, always a plate ready for you too like itâs expected that youâll eat dinner with him. like spending time with him was just natural â the sky is blue, the oceanâs deep, and you and johnny fall into each other like there is an invisible string pulling you close to him.
itâs a beautiful change of pace, and there are more days now when you can breathe in a little easier, and you know itâs all because of johnny. itâs all him who pulled you out of your slump and out of that darkness and gave you the room, literally, to grow.
heâs beautiful, but youâve said that already, havenât you? heâs just⌠so good to be with.
then, johnny began picking up and bringing some home.
.
the first time it happened was shocking, really.
you had an early morning, something thatâs so murky now in your memories so youâre unsure if it was anything uni related or work related, just that it was five in the morning and you were clambering downstairs as quietly as you could. you rounded the length of the hallway from the platform to the kitchen when you ran into someone.
âsteady,â sheâd said, voice hoarse and loud in her shock too.
you yelled, jumping, arms swinging because was there an intruder, and it took johnny physically subduing you for you to calm down. looking back now, you burn in embarrassment, but then you had been so worried, your body wound up so tightly in your fear.
âshh,â johnny had murmured with that wry grin. âsâjust me, lass.â
your eyes danced between him and the brunette â pretty even in her rumpled shirt, with long legs and a small waist â trying to understand what was going on. you are sure johnny had told you before that he wasnât seeing anyone so whoâ
âyour girlfriend?â she asked johnny, turning to him with her lips pursed and her brow cocked up.
the question settled in your stomach, doing wonders to your already-fragile psyche. youâd just spent hours thinking about johnny and what he meant to you; what living with him meant. how it eased up something carved within the trenches of your being, like youâd always been waiting for someone like him.
the question was a reminder, like prickling you with icicles, leaving you to navigate the swoop. but johnny had laughed, nothing mean but so dismissive that you felt the curl of shame brandishing from the base of your spine like johnny was laughing at you.
âoh, nah,â he replied, arm still slung over your shoulders. âsheâs sorta my ward, yes? i take care of her, sâall.â
thatâs all. youâre nothing more to him but a ward. a tenant. not even a friendâ
she hummed, then leaned over to kiss johnny, her eyes still drawn to you like sheâs watching, waiting for a reaction, and when she got none, she trudged to the door. you and johnny watched as she bent down to slip in her shoes, some stilettos with red bottoms, before wordlessly disappearing into the darkened morning.
âpretty,â you chirped, trying to break the tension of whatever that was.
johnny laughed in that way that surely crinkled his eyes, only to steer the conversation away by asking why you were up early. you remembered what you had to do and you dived to the kitchen in a flurry, chatting about the deadlines and due dates â so it was a school thing â and johnny just watched, silent, humming, eyes still curved in his glee.
you left no sooner than his⌠paramour did and, for a while, that was that.
but your semester is coming to a close and your schedule is changing, but so is johnnyâs. heâs coming home later and later, but always seemed to offer apologies in the form of easy-to-microwave meals for your dinner. theyâre still homemade, probably cooked up in the morning before he left for work, and youâd messaged him to say that he didnât need to worry about you. that, sure, you came to him amidst financial struggle, juggling work and school, and trying to decide if you would have to starve this month because of rent, but you can cook. for yourself and for him too.
johnnyâs face did a terrible thing when you mentioned that in person, the first in a while after things got hectic.
âwhat,â you bit out, embarrassed.
ânothing,â he said, blinking like he was realizing things he shouldnât. âsâfun doing things fâr you.â
then he clamped up, spooning soup into his mouth, some of it messily dribbling into his chin. itâs not like you were doing any better, with how your throat closed up at his words, eyes going wide.
itâs been a thing, is what it is, but neither of you two have ever acknowledged that itâs a thing. itâs been a wordless experience â of johnny taking over things when it comes to the house because of course he will, itâs his home, but he always covers things for you too. things youâre sure normal landlords donât really worry about, but not johnny.
thereâs always extra food in the kitchen, extra blankets when the weather dips. thereâs even a new cooling machine for the summer even though you know johnnyâs room already has an installed air conditioning. heâs even changed the seats in the dining room because he caught you once hitting your hip after an all-nighter on a project.
then, he refurbished the den to make it your office.
âyou didnât have to,â you told him, mind racing at your savings, wondering if he was going to increase your rent.
johnny just shook his head with an almost fond roll of his eyes and clapped your back, arm hovering there. âsâall yers, hen.â
everything he did always accounted for you. so why the women?
theyâre all long limbed and trimmed waist, with eyes that sparkled even when all youâve seen of them is always within the poorly-lit hallway. they have voices that curl teasingly, breathy like theyâre enticing johnny for one more night. and theyâve always, always, treated you like aâ
like a kid.
a burden, almost, of johnnyâs.
and, hell, maybe you are. johnnyâs almost twice your age; heâs also already well-established in his career, some senior position that you canât really follow but one he talks about with fondness. heâs got land rover-money, the car in his garage big and black and almost military grade, and it looks so expensive especially beside the crappy civic you were able to snag for a cheap price because itâs got about three-hundred-thousand mileage already.
youâve got nothing to give him, other than the lousy rent payment that he doesnât even really need but is just asking for courtesy because itâd be so weird for him to offer a room, or two now given you have the den too, for free. youâve got nothing on your name, and if it isnât pity that makes johnny care for you, then you donât know what.
maybe his string of one-night stands are right â you are just a kid.
that maybe you really are still too wet behind the ears for the real world that you go running to the next person that could protect you from it, stumbling into his life and licking up every drop of his attention, mistaking his kindness for devotion. his care for love.
.
you should have known, then, that the thoughts would ripple, leaving you to feel like the days are unnavigable. obsession quickly took root, growing fangs, and it ensnared you; a vice noose at what had been a pleasant coexistence.
hell, you can barely stand being with johnny because of the jealousy. itâs a shameful thing, but a part of you thinks you deserve johnny more than the others do.
you tell yourself that nobody knows about johnnyâs nightmares and the horrors that spill from his lips when itâs twelve in the morning and the two of you have hit the bourbon. you tell yourself that nobody knows about johnnyâs aversion to the windows in the living room; that the reason why the curtains are a deep green is not to match the new plants heâs allowed you to fill up his home but because they shroud the panels more than the cream ones had. you tell yourself that nobody knows that johnny can sing; that he can cook a mean tomahawk; that he likes reading; that his wrists were hurting so heâs currently scheduled for a surgery; that heâs soft to you.
the women donât know this johnny, you tell yourself, nails clawing at the hems of your chest. they donât know him the way i do.
itâs a pathetic whisper. itâs so laughable. so juvenile.
theyâre right. theyâre right.
(youâre just aâ)
âi donât see you anymore,â johnny murmured one morning, when things have gone quiet again, a cup of coffee sitting on the counter while he watches you throw orange peels into the garburator.
he just got back from a work trip in aberdeen, his exhaustion loud on his face. his hair is overgrown, the bottom ends of his mohawk curling along his nape. he was there for over three weeks, skirting almost close to a month â the longest heâs ever been away â and you had tried so hard not to message. not to drop casual check-ins because youâre sure no tenant ever does that to their landlord, but johnny had remained just as friendly; asking things like if you wanted another potted plant, a monstera or a dragon tree, or if you still had that swiss chocolate he brought home as a gift, orâ
the list of his questions grew, but youâve given him clipped replies, not knowing how to act right anymore since your quiet realization. even the âthingâ that you thought you shared with him had fizzled at the drop of the women coming-and-leaving, and you are left to pick up the pieces.
itâs not like youâre broken or ruined or angry. god, no you arenât.
but you feel unsteady, like now that you know that you liked him more than he liked you, you forgot how to breathe. how to live without that looming burden because your affection is nothing but a burden.
what will johnny do if he finds out? you canât afford a new place to move into, not when youâre so close to graduating, the finish line just about to graze your very fingertips with how near it is. money is still tight, and johnny has already spoiled you rotten. has shown you how it is to live a comfortable life. and if he learns of your feelings, you would lose this. more than anything, you would lose him.
so you detached yourself from the noose, curling into yourself and using his work trip as a way to move on.
jesus â move on, huh? like there was a âyou and johnnyâ to even move on from. like there was anything there to read. like there was anything there to pull away from; twitching fingers drawing back into the spaces of your ribs, tucking yourself away from his warmth.
âiâve been so busy, john,â you muttered, just as tired.
âyeah?â he said, still light. still jovial. âlet me cook something nice for ye, huh? reward yer hard work and all.â
âi canât.â you swallowed down the prickle lodged in your throat, eyes ducking away to avoid seeing his. âiâve got a meeting with the club.â
(you missed the way johnnyâs smile dipped.)
âoh,â he said.
you shrugged, internally wincing at your weak attempt at being normal, before gathering your thermos and your messily-wrapped sandwich. johnny was still standing by the counters when you turned around from the sink, his bulk so close to yours in ages. it had been so long since you could just reach over and feel his warmth; feel the soft pudge of what once were hardened muscles.
heâs looking at you with such sad eyes that itâs jarring to truly see because heâs looking at you likeâ
like heâs losing you.
âiâm gonnaâŚâ you trailed off, not really knowing how to end this truly awkward interaction.
âyeah, fâcourse,â he croaked out. âtake care of yerself huh, lass?â
âthanks.â the smile on your face felt more like a grimace. âsee you.â
he said nothing more after that, his eyes still searching; still furrowed like somethingâs changed and somethingâs happening, and it made your stomach drop because please. please donât let him notice.
but johnny just watched as you went, his coffee all forgotten.
(something bloomed in the soft press of your heart, flickering like a young ember. youâve never realized how longing could feel like your mouth is stuffed with cotton.)
.
johnny hasn't picked up since his return from aberdeen.
theyâre getting a new firm so the shuffling has been brutal, leaving johnny to clamber out at five in the morning before coming back home when itâs pushing 11pm. the scruff on his face is becoming more unkempt, salt and pepper becoming more intense, but even then, heâs never looked more ruggedly beautiful as he is now.
itâs like heâs aged years and you shouldnât be reacting so strongly to the change, but looking at johnny now makes you ache in a different way â core throbbing, throat parched and eyes stinging as you watch him. youâre so drawn to his gravitational pull, unable to detangle yourself now that it feels like heâs more back in your life than he ever was.
and you know itâll end up hurting you. that youâll go back to isolating yourself at the drop of a new girl in the house, the smell of her chanel or bvlgari perfume filling up the crevices that youâve dutifully dusted every saturday morning while johnnyâs out for a run. heâs made having casual lovers a cycle, one that you cannot blame him for because johnny doesnât like you back.
but johnnyâs been so attentive to you these days. heâs been a hovering presence even when he looks like heâs one blown wind away from passing out in his exhaustion, his warm hand always on the small of your back as he walks you to the door before chirping a hearty, âkick ass, bon!â
heâs back to fixing up food for you, like that blip in your schedule got him all creative because now, itâs not even just dinner. youâve got breakfast waiting for you in the microwave, and packed lunch already in your bag, carefully tucked beside the manila folders and plastic envelopes for your capstone. itâs like heâs making up for something which is dumb and wrong because now, youâre all swooping stomach and prickling lungs.
âyummy?â johnny asked, catching you wriggling in excitement at the flavour bursting into your tongue.
your cheeks tingled, feverish, before giving him a shy nod.
he huffed, something so achingly fond, and rested his chin atop his crossed arms. you didnât know what to focus on â the scruff on his face or the hard lines of webbing veins spilling from beneath his folded sleeves. then, he crooned, âgood. thatâs good.â
you ran upstairs to your room, throwing an excuse about finishing up your paper, before locking the door, and feeding your cunt two fingers to satiate the burn. the stretch was delicious, raw and sweet, and you humped your wrist, trying to douse the flames burning you up.
you thought of johnny, of the way he looked and how much nicer heâs been; of johnny and the way he was so kind to you, so caring like youâre up in his priority list again, overtaking his busy schedule and the firm restructuring, and his needs.
your orgasm felt like a ripping of reality, your mind splintering at the edges as youâre stretched thin. it felt like youâve been pulled taut, then released with a resounding snap. it felt euphoric, like the explosion of something intoxicating. something wickedly addicting.
you knew that this could never be unmade. your affections had grown their tendrils, curling past the quiet admiration and spiralling into something unforgiving. into something greater than yourself.
âfuck,â you had rasped out, eyes prickling with tears as shame rushed into your chest. âfuck.â
you didnât need this. you didnât need any of this.
but it becomes a cycle â wash, rinse, repeat.
johnny continues to go unshaven; continues to pour his attention to you. and you soak it up, needy and soft, unable to turn away with your tail tucked between your legs. you fall back to the ease of how it had been, hip bumping his, morning coffee shared in the silence, dinner a filling affair once more. all thatâs changed are the lingering looks, the resonating touches.
how johnnyâs wide hand falls to the small of your back more often; how his fingers just slots against yours every time he passes you your cup; how his eyes rove over your face, always searching for something you dare not hope for.
the last time he flicked his eyes down to watch the way your tongue lapped at your lips, swiping away at the extra cream, johnnyâs pupils had constricted before a quiet groan rumbled from his throat. your thighs had quickly clenched close as heat exploded in the pit of your belly, spreading like wildfire through your veins. the pressure on your nub made you hiccup, like a whine dragging itself from your trachea, and johnny had snapped his eyes back to yours so quickly, it made you heady.
âbonââ
âi have to go,â you murmured, clamouring to shaky legs.
you fucked yourself to a deafening point once more, ears ringing as you squirted, the gush of your slick pushing past your fingers. you had to gnash your pillow cover to muffle the moan rumbling from the base of your throat, trying desperately to be good. to not be heard. to be better.
but johnnyâs burning gaze on your lips was seared into your memory, blazing on top of everything, and you imaginedâ
god, you imagined.
the way heâll take you â beard rough on your chin, thicker fingers spreading you wider, reaching deeper, before finally filling you up with all of him, bullying the whole length of his cock until he bottoms out.
you pressed on your stomach, dizzy, thinking about how johnny would hit that far. you know he would. the women heâs slept with have told you, anyway, in passing, describing how he was in bed with dreamy sighs like they werenât still reeking of sex and johnnyâs aftershave.
(you still wonder why so many of them were mean, their noses tipped up every time they saw you. they were the ones that johnny chose, the ones who were fortunate enough to have been his lover, so you wonder why they still sought you out like you were competition.)
âjohnnyyyy!â you moaned, loud and long, your fingers prodding at your walls, and you knew that youâd regret the wrangled cry later, but you didnât care then, too busy swimming in the aftermath of your orgasm.
.
but johnny heard it anyway.
he told you that he had heard you.Â
it happened so quickly â one moment you were bent over the espresso machine, fiddling with the levers with bleary-eyed attempts, then the next thing you knew was that johnny was crowding you, trapping you between the warm bulk of his body and the counter, his eyes furrowed so deeply which made the lines on his forehead run much deeper.
âwhuâ?â you asked, blinking tiredly at him.
johnny just did this shaky breath that rattled his whole body, like he was propped up by a couple of sticks instead of his whole mass. the mood shifted with that weak inhale though, and you turned to fully face him, ignoring the beeping machine because johnny was still looking at you with those eyes.
the ones that made you feel seen, read, and laid bare before him. like he could weave his eyes past the fabrics of your shirt to peek into the very jagged shards of your heart and see the cross that youâve been carrying. like he knew things about you that he shouldnât.
âjohnny?â you prodded again, finding his silence alarming.
âyer too young for me, mâeudail,â johnny finally rumbled out, voice thick and deep.
and itâsâ
what.
your mind was pressing into your skull, trying desperately to link your synapses together; for the fog to clear and for your coherence to rise above the pull of drowsiness, but johnny was faster. like now that heâs said the first words, the rest just follow, unstoppable in their force and in their meaning.
âi told myself i couldnât,â he murmured, still breathing shakily; gaze still too fragile. âthat yer lookinâ for nothinâ like me, and that yer just tryinâ to get out there with yer career.â
he lifted a hand, fingers twitching, before balling it back down to a fist.
âtold myself iâve gotta let go. found a way to cope and shit.â
johnny took another ragged breath in, and it startled you into gulping one of your own â you didnât even realize that youâve held your breath as he spoke to you, your chest clenching tightly as your mind began to link the passageways together, filling you in on what he wasnât really saying.
âbut carinâ fâyou was so easy. christ, it was even delightful, hen.â he chuckled, something that was somewhat raw and pained.
you licked at your lips, blinking wide eyes open. johnny tracked the movement, his nose flaring like youâve done something more than a subconscious thing, his shoulders going taut.
âi like doing all sorta things for you. liked seeing yâeat what i cooked; liked seeing yâuse what i got fâyou. liked watching yâcome home to me. to me.â
a soft sound echoed between the two of you, and it took you an embarrassingly long time to realize that it was a breathless whimper that petered out from the base of your throat. you didnât even realize that youâve curled into yourself, almost like youâre trying your best to shrink before johnny, and johnny crooned.
callused palm cupped the round of your cheek, his thumb swiping just underneath your eye. âtold myself yer too young; that surely yer looking for someone closer to yer age, but bon, i heard yâlast night.â
you startled in his hold, a quiet gasp piercing through the heat. johnnyâs lips danced with mirth.
âsâright. heard a loud thump against the wall and ran upstairs, all worried, but guess my surprise, yes? yâwere moaninâ my name so loudly, itâs like yâleft yer door open.â
âjohnny, iââ
âtell me,â he said, moving closer, his chest pressing against yours. âtell me tâstop, bon, anâ i will. but yâve got to tell me. yâve got to push me away.â
you looked at him, your eyes trembling at what he was laying out thickly, and your throat going parched at the blanketing desire rippling from him. there were so many things you wanted to ask, but his breath was tickling the bridge of your nose, dancing so close to the bow of your lips, and your heart ached.
desire coursed through you in waves, dribbling from the cup, and you lurched forward, chasing after his lips.
johnny melted into you. his hesitant touch turned greedier, more possessive, mapping your body and pulling you closer into him. his mouth devoured your own, gulping down the pleased little sighs and keens spilling from your lips. he kissed like a man starved, but you werenât any softer; all nippy and desperate, fingers digging into his hair and fisting at the thin strands.
it was feverish, almost to a boiling point, and you needed more.
god, you needed more.
âjohnny,â you mewled when he pulled away just enough to slide his damp lips along the cut of your jaw. âjohnny, need you.â
âchrist,â johnny sounded so wrecked, his voice rumbling deeply from where his lips were suckling on the soft curve of your neck. âiâve been dreaming of this, mo luaidh. i knew i shouldnât but yer so sweet to me and iâ i wanted.â he said that word like it was dirty; like heâd been fighting tooth-and-nail to suppress it.
it made you tremble to hear how johnny desired you just as much. he had always felt unobtainable; always danced too far from your grasp and was always bigger than what you knew you could handle â his lovers had always looked divinely; pretty, yes, but fierce in their own right like they knew how to live without johnny; and you know they could, because they didnât need johnny the way you do. they didnât look at johnny like you do, like he hung the stars with those thick and aged hands of his.
but as you stood there, feeling every word punctured onto your skin, you couldnât help but begin to cry, the tears springing from your eyes to slip down your cheeks. johnny rubbed your back, soothing and gentle.Â
âi wanted tâtake you â make yâall mine,â he whispered.Â
you hiccuped, shaky from the weight of your hunger, and nuzzled close. your hands fell from fisting his hair so you could claw at the sharp corners of his shoulder blades, feeling the muscles there rippling, all taut when he bent forward and kissed you.
âplease,â you began, feeling your mind thinning because you wanted more. more. more. more. âi can beâ johnny, sâalways been you. nobody else but you.â
you tugged him away, cupping his jaw and forcing him to look at you. and god, johnny looked so devastatingly beautiful, his eyes all furrowed and his cheeks all flushed, and his lips spit-sheened.
âfuck me,â you whispered, tired of dancing around.
he groaned, something that sounded so pained, before he was tugging you with him, up the stairs and skirting past your room and into his.Â
youâve never been in johnnyâs room before, just as he had never been in yours since you moved in, and until now you still donât know what you had been expecting upon walking in, but the smell of johnny wafting through was almost gut-punching. he smelled so close, like he was everywhere â surrounding you from the ground-up, dousing every pore with him until even your mouth felt full.
and johnny, he smelt like home.Â
there were no more words uttered as he stripped you off your pyjamas, sure fingers making their way down the buttons, unlatching them from the hemmed slits. you watched with heavy eyes, blinking slowly like everything had been wrung out of you, leaving you pliant and soft. johnny hummed, appreciative, and mapped kisses from your heaving chest, teeth nipping at the fat, before moving on, sprinkling every expanse of your skin with such reverence.Â
your hands were balled to your chest when he reached the jut of your belly, his chin hovering just above your crotch. johnny flicked up his darkened eyes at you, asking silently.
you gave him a nod, not trusting your own voice too.
johnnyâs eyes had turned into slits, pleased, and hefted himself up just enough to be able to fit his hands on your hips and tugged your pants down. you shivered, the warmth in his room not enough to suppress the winter chill, and it made you buck into him. johnny comforted you with a quiet shh, rubbing his palm on the pudge of your thigh in soothing circles.
you donât know why that touch was what did it for you, but soft sobs finally spilled from your mouth, scrunching up the desire into something undeniably frail. johnny didnât startle though, like he knew that you had been wounding up to this tipping point, and instead continued to touch you tenderly, almost like if he could, he would cradle you close.Â
âi love you,â you said, sniffling, because that was the crux of your vulnerability, right?
you love him. god, you love him.Â
youâve loved him since the day he sat you down for dinner and told you that youâve got nothing to worry about, not anymore and not with him around. youâve loved him since the day he flipped the den so you can have your own space for work; donât mind the fact that he didnât know if you were going to even stay, just that he insisted that you deserved that room either way. youâve loved him since that swiss chocolate, since that cup of coffee, since heâs begun filling your painfully lonely days with his care.Â
youâve loved him since and nowâ
âoh, mo graidh,â johnny breathed out. âi love you too.â he kissed your thigh, scruff ticklish. âgu siorraidh is gu brath.â
you wanted to ask what that meant but johnny was already moving, sitting back up to strip out of his own shirt. you trailed your eyes down his body, capturing your trembling lips between your teeth at how breathtaking he was â soft with fat but still heavy with muscles, fuzzy with hair with the smattering pooling just underneath his belly button before trailing down to where they were hidden underneath his pants.Â
you twitched before finally braving enough to reach out and brush your knuckle over the indents of his softened abs. johnny hummed, something that curled with appreciation, before covering your hand with his and holding it there.Â
âall of me sâyers, hen,â he said with such finality that you felt it settle deep within the marrows of your bones.Â
you nodded, emotionally spent and johnny lilted something else in scottish, so soft that it was almost a croon. you let him manhandle you â pushing your hips up so he could slot a pillow under for your back; you were so malleable to his touch as he took over, bending once again for a kiss while his fingers danced past the laces of your panties and into the damp heat of your pussy.Â
you moaned, eyelashes fluttering when he pressed one in, so careful and slow, but you were so wet that it slid in with no resistance, gobbling it up knuckle-deep. johnny had groaned like he could feel your rising euphoria, before nosing along your temple as he wiggled the finger around, stroking at your walls. you wondered if he was going to tease but then he was pulling it out, only to plunge two in the next thrust, curling and stretching, and ohâ
oh, ssssâgood.
you donât even remember how long heâd been spearing you with his thicker fingers, rough and long and reaching far, far deeper than you could with your own, but you laid there, sobbing, feeling your slick slip out, pooling, making a mess of your thighs and his sheets. johnny had moved from suckling on your neck to taking a nipple in his mouth, teeth softly gnashing at the bud. you felt like you were on fire, burning from your core, aching for a release.Â
âcum fâme, mâeudail,â johnny groaned, breathless himself, his cock poking underneath his boxers, the fabric all wet from where his tip was, leaking pearled pre-. âlet me see you.â
âjohnny, iâm gonnaâ iâmâ!â you squealed, legs jumping, squeezing johnnyâs sides as you jolted, hips twitching at the bloating ecstasy. johnny just pushed down on your thigh, not letting up with the pace of his fingers. he was fucking you so hard that his handâs slapping against your skin, his palm grinding down on your clit just right, and the pleasure sizzled into something biting. into something that was almost painful.
it was catastrophic, pulling you into two directions. johnnyâs everywhere â his scent in your lungs, his fingers deep in your pussy, his mouth hot and wet on your tits, and like this, like this, you felt yourself breaking.Â
rippingâ
then, your orgasm was punched out of you.Â
your senses had gone awry â throat throbbing as you cried out, your eyes going blind as they rolled into your skull at the final curl of johnnyâs fingers. white noise filled your ears, and it was like you were submerged underneath water, wading through the crashing tides of your climax.
you came back to johnny peppering your face with soft kisses, whispering something you couldnât decipher past the croon of your name and something like you did good and so beautiful. heâd already pulled his fingers out, and used both arms to cradle you close. you felt so empty â god, that wasnât even his cock, yet â but your body thrummed pleasantly, almost like the itch was finally scratched.Â
âjohnny?â you puffed out, voice all scratchy and weak.Â
âiâm here, bon. iâm here.â
you hummed, curling into his chest, head pillowed by his arm. you wanted to ask what about his own euphoria, but johnny seemed so content just laying there with you, not really desperate or needy, so you let it go, losing the battle against your drowsiness before finally slipping into a quiet sleep.Â
.
johnnyâs there for your graduation, carrying a big bouquet of only eden roses. you didnât even know that those particular ones were expensive until someone from the graduation party oohed and aahed to their friend.Â
your cheeks burned when their friend chirped, âwell someoneâs clearly loved.â
you know that what they said would have had johnny agreeing loudly if he was allowed in the lineup because he is never one to be shy about what he feels; or not anymore, anyway. he loves so fully and openly that you still wonder why it took the two of you so long to get together, but the days since then had just been kind and filling that you have long forgotten how it was to not be with him.Â
theyâre going to call your name soon, and your stomach swoops, excitement and anxiety mixing in a dizzying tandem.Â
youâre graduating with a bachelorâs degree in psychology and a diploma in early childhood education, and this is not where you thought you would be when you first started university, but itâs the happiest you have ever been. and sure much of your poli-sci courses were scrapped when you changed majors, and thatâs also a lot of money wasted, but you have three job opportunities lined up already and itâs like the seismic shift in your life had finally corrected itself.Â
(your mom said sheâs sorry that she and your pa couldnât come, but youâve stopped longing for their acceptance and told her it was fine.
thereâs a date saved in your calendar, though, for a brunch with her and that was enough.)
you ducked into johnnyâs arms when the graduation ceremony ended, careful of the bouquet heâs holding.Â
âcongratulations, bonnie,â he says, a hearty laugh rumbling from his chest. âchrist, iâm so, so proud of you.â
you never pegged yourself for a crybaby, but tears begin to pool in the corners of your eyes at the weight of his words.Â
âthank you,â you reply, soft and raw, and honest.Â
johnny pulls you in, his lips warm as theyâre pressed on your forehead.Â
and this, just like this, you know things will only get better from here on out.Â
#suns#johnny soap mactavish#johnny soap mactavish x reader#johnny mactavish x reader#johnny mactavish#soap x reader#cod x reader#f!reader#read tags!!
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â you taste like heaven. â
Alastor with angel!reader omg. I imagine that reader was Alastor's wife back when they were alive, but didn't see eachother again after death because Alastor is in hell and reader is in heaven. I imagine that after Sir Pentious got redeemed, Sera sent reader (because she has experience with demons(? Ur choice) and Sera trusts her a lot) down to hell to investigate this 'hazbin hotel'.
a/n: AHHHH i almost didnt want to write smut into this because it was so precious đ ooc alastor again but its so CUTE. i added my "alastor speaks french" agenda to this as well lol.
buy me a coffee? đ
tags: 18+ smut nsfw, fem! receiving oral
heaven was in shambles after the last extermination, no one knew what would happen next now that souls could be redeemed from hell. it was then that sera approached you in private, all but begging you to go be an "ambassador." you were hesistant at first, not only thinking that this was a lot of responsibility, but also that your... husband had to be down there. he wasn't a "good man" after all, but your heart still fluttered at the thought of seeing him once more. with a sigh, you accept sera's plea and prepare for your trip down to the hazbin hotel.
there to greet you, was charlie morningstar herself, bright eyed and bubbly just like you heard all about. she leads you into the foyer of the hotel before you stop dead in your tracks. charlie is still speaking a mile a minute in your ear, trying to welcome you as best she can, but you're not listening. your eyes meet alastor's, immediately recognizing him even in this new form of his. and when his smile almost fades, you know he recognizes you too.
there's another brief pause before you're running towards him, your wings unfurling on their own as you're quickly wrapped up in his embrace. the other inhabitants of the hotel watch, confused, seeing as alastor hasn't really let anyone but niffty get close enough to touch him, let alone embrace him. your wings fluff up and cover your faces as you lean up to kiss your estranged partner. "oohh, sweetheart.." he sighs against your lips. "its been..."
you smile between kisses, your heart racing in your chest. "too long." you finish his sentence, earning a chuckle from the demon. his lips kiss a trail to your ear, a low growl to his voice as he whispers to you. "you taste like heaven, darling." your cheeks go red, not quite prepared for such a comment, especially in front of company. "alastor!" you hiss, hitting his chest gently but he just pulls you closer in response.
finally, he addresses the group behind you who are all standing with their jaws hanging open. "now, if you're all done gawking, i believe my wife needs to be shown around..."
husk spits out his drink as alastor speaks, covering angel in alcohol. "your WHAT!?" you hide your face as calamity ensues, everyone trying to speak over eachother at the insane news. "your wife... is an angel?" charlie asks gently, trying to get to the bottom of this. "well, i couldn't have known for sure but she was always more a saint than i." alastor hums, running his hand down your back. you shudder when he touches your wings, to which he notes in his head for later.
"o-oh! well then! i guess you should show her around, yeah?" she smiles bashfully, still taken aback by everything happening since your arrival just a few minutes ago. you look up at alastor, your cheeks aching from smiling so wide. "i think i'd like that." you whisper to him, enjoying the way he pulls you closer to him. "hold on tight then, my love."
you're not sure what he means by that until you're slipping into the shadows with him. its an odd feeling, but you don't think much of it until you're reappearing in what you assume is his bedroom. alastor is careful with you, like he's afraid the wrong touch will burn you, but he craves the feeling of your bare skin against his hands more than he can admit. you smile, reaching your hands up to cup his face. "touch me, al. i'm not fragile..."
your words light a spark deep within him, forcing him to restrain himself from ripping your pretty clothes into tatters. he groans inwardly, large hands reaching around to pick you up before fumbling his way to the bed. "corrupting an angel wasn't on my bucket list until seeing you again, my dear." his tone, its not what you're used to hearing, but that gravelly undertone shoots straight through you. "oh please, you can't corrupt me more than you already have." alastor's lips find the sensitive skin of your neck and you feel him smirk.
"i hope that's not a challenge." he tests, tugging at the hem of your dress. you all but giggle, lifting up so alastor can free your body of clothes. "and what if is it?" you challenge, knowing full well that alastor wouldn't let your teasing continue without proper punishment. his eyes darken red, and there's a tinge of fear in your gut. because this may still be alastor, but its been quite a while, you don't know how he's changed.
but as he kisses down your stomach, you're reassured that the man you married is still there somewhere, underneath this 'radio demon' persona. "your lips tasted of heaven, mon amour, does this taste so sweet as well?" alastor's words alone are enough are enough to make you whimper, then the feeling of his hot breath against your clothed cunt makes your core pulse.
your hands naturally fall to the top of his head, feeling the softness of his ears and the rough points of his antlers. "c-can i..?" you start, timidly holding onto the horns. alastor's body shudders as he shoves his face into your thigh. "yes, ma chĂŠrie. please do." he breathes, tugging on the thin fabric of your panties until they rip in half.
alastor wants to be patient, wants to treat you like the angel you are, but he is a demon after all. and he hasn't gotten such a delicious meal in far too long. after he feels your grip tighten on his antlers, he lets loose his self control. his first taste of your sweet pussy sends him into a frenzy, eating you like a man starving. his tongue swipes up your slit before circling your clit in quick flicks. your legs are shaking already, breathy moans leaving your lips with reckless abandon.
there's a part of you that is concerned to be getting your cunt ate by a demon, but this demon was your husband, after all. sera made you come down here and you might as well enjoy yourself, right?
your hips arch up, craving more and more, and alastor is happy to oblige. "this is heaven, my dear. not some palace in the sky, but here, between your legs." your eyes well with tears, overwhelmed in more ways than one. every pass of his tongue has your release teetering on the edge while his sweet words make your heart flutter. its almost too much, and when alastor sucks on your clit, your walls burst.
"a-alastor i'm..." you mewl, every nerve on your body screaming as your orgasm rolls over you. you're almost sure you're hurting him by how hard you tug at his hair, but alastor doesn't stop. the intensity is something you've not experienced in many, many years, and the tears stream down your cheeks. alastor coaxes you through it, licking slow and soft circles around your sensitive bud until your shaking stops.
he's quick to climb up, wiping the tears from your puffy eyes. "such a good girl, mon amour. there's plenty more where that came from."
#alastor x reader#alastor hazbin#hazbin hotel#alastor x you#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor hazbin hotel smut#alastor x you smut#alastor x reader smut#alastor x reader imagines#hazbin alastor imagines#hazbin alastor smut#alastor hazbin hotel#hazbin alastor#hazbin smut#hazbin hotel smut#hazbin alastor x reader#alastor imagines
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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood
Chapter 2 - Adjustments
Summary: You're struggling a bit in your adjustment to your new life, and you're finding some of them are easier to get along with than others. Luckily you're not in it alone.
Pairing: Poly 141 x reader
Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, let's be real this is so unrealistic but it's a/b/o you're not here for accuracy.
Author's Note: I'm so just overwhelmed with the attention this fic has gotten, but not in a bad way I promise! I'm just surprised is all. Thank you everyone that has read and reblogged and commented. I love all of you and so, since I have no self control, here is Chapter 2. Lots more world building and dialogue in this part, but I promise good stuff is coming.
Also I promise Soap will get his time soon. He's just the hardest for me to write, and you'll see why in this chapter.
MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->
âShe was lying.âÂ
Price doesnât bother looking up as a dark figure leans against the wall next to him. He stares out at the empty space between the barracks and the mess hall, not much traffic between the buildings during this time of day.Â
âAbout how she got to the institute.âÂ
âOr at least not telling the whole truth.â Price says, turning to look at Simon. âSomething tells me sheâd talk if we asked.âÂ
âSheâs soft.â Simon says, letting his gaze drift off into the distance.Â
âSheâs a civilian.â Price counters. âThe CIA did a little training, but sheâll need some work. We canât leave her completely defenseless...âÂ
Simon turns to face him again. âThereâs something else.âÂ
Price pushes himself off the wall, heading back inside. Simon follows, the two of them making their way down the hall to his office. âThereâs hundreds of American military bases across the world, thousands of regiments they could have chosen from, and yet, they sent her to us.âÂ
Simon closes the door behind him as Price sinks into his desk chair. âYou think it was deliberate?âÂ
Price pulls open one of the drawers, pulling out the file Kate had given him. âLaswell said the CIA has had eyes on her for years.â He slides it across his desk to Simon. âThereâs a lot of why's in this situation, and a lot of howâs. Like, if what sheâs saying is true, how did a Staff Sergeant get his daughter into FIOT practically overnight?âÂ
Simon glances up at him over the top of the file. âYou think thereâs something else going on with this Initiative.âÂ
Price nods. âI do. I think thereâs more than one experiment being run, and weâre the guinea pigs.âÂ
You stare at your reflection in the mirror as you run a comb through your damp hair. You look tired, the dark circles that have plagued your face for the last few weeks looking even darker now. Itâs been a long day, so long itâs hard to believe itâs only been a matter of hours since you boarded the helicopter in London.Â
Your new pack had made themselves scarce after dinner, leaving you to your own devices. You had been left alone after lunch too, and you had spent that time laying in bed, resting after the overwhelming scenting.Â
Youâd played back the last few hours in your mind. Leaving London in the helicopter, meeting your new Pack Alpha, Laswell leaving, meeting your new pack, the scenting. You had plenty to think about, to stress over, and you had been surprised when the knock came at your door for dinner. You were equally surprised to see Gaz and Soap waiting for you.Â
Youâd been sandwiched between them again as you walked to the mess. It was busier for dinner, and the eyes werenât quite so quick to look away with the alphas missing. You know they have to be curious, with an omega on base following around two members of a SpecOps team, smelling like them. You know what they were probably thinking of you, what they were thinking your presence means.Â
Youâve begun to understand Priceâs rules a bit more.Â
Price and Ghost had joined you as Soap said they would, coming in late from whatever they had been busy doing. You had been seated next to Soap, Ghost taking his other side while Price sat next to Gaz. It hadnât gone unnoticed to you how close Soap and Ghost sat, and you remembered the look in Ghostâs eyes when Soap had approached to scent you. How his defensive stare had turned icy, threatening even, when heâd gotten close to you as if you were capable of hurting Soap. It had been a silent warning. If you tried anything, youâd have him to contend with.Â
Ghost is territorial, more so than most alphas. You had seen it just a bit in Price, but only because you had been watching for it. Ghost was silent in his claim, but his gaze spoke of his territorialism. As you sat at the table with them, you slowly felt the stares lessen, the curious alphas and betas around you slowly turning away from your table until you were left in peace. You knew it was all thanks to a well-pointed glare from the second alpha at the table.Â
Theyâd escorted you back to the barracks before disappearing again, leaving you alone. Youâd opted for a shower to try and clear your head, exhaustion weighing heavy in your limbs but your mind was racing too much to really get any rest. You havenât been told what their normal schedules entail or even what they look like, but you expect an early morning tomorrow. Since Price had said at least one of them needed to escort you around base, that likely meant you were going to be constrained to their schedules.Â
You know even when theyâre not away, their days are probably full of training and briefings, much like yours had been for three months. Theyâre probably up early, earlier than youâd like to be, and then they go non-stop all day.Â
You wonder if they ever get a break.Â
Maybe this is a break for them.Â
You sit on the edge of the bed after you finish your routine, eyeing the pillows and blankets stacked at the end. Theyâre military issue, not as soft or as plush as you might have preferred. This is your new normal, though. Comfort isnât exactly going to be a high priority.Â
Tears prick your eyes as you run your hand over the comforter. You know itâs the exhaustion, the stress of the day beginning to weigh on you. Youâre worn out, and thatâs causing a slip in the tight reins you keep on your mood. Omegas and alphas were both prone to being moody, and those who were unrestrained could lose control quickly. Alphas were quick to anger, while omegas could get depressed very easily. Exhaustion drives both to being grumpy, though alphas will descend into irritability and anger, while omegas will get whiny and weepy.Â
You hate it, how easily you can be driven to cry. How easily you can lose control. It makes you feel weak and helpless, but thatâs partially by design. It was supposed to be your packâs job to fix that, to give you that support and take care of you.Â
Except you donât know your pack.Â
What would they do if you approached them like this, all teary and needy? Would instinct take over and snap them into their roles? Or would they give you an awkward pat on the back and leave you to take care of yourself? Gaz would help you, you think. He had slipped into that role so easily during the scenting. Your fingers twitch on the bedspread, your mind telling you to seek him out, track him down, even if itâs only to catch a whiff of his scent again. Â
Your phone screen lights up where itâs sitting on the nightstand, drawing your attention from the door. Kate had given you the phone just this morning before you left the hotel. It had her number on it, as well as your packâs. Youâd half expected to find messages already from them when youâd turned it on, but there had been none. They had kept that boundary of meeting in person first.Â
You pick up the phone, checking the message. Itâs from Price.Â
Breakfast is at 0700. Iâll take you to see the Omega Specialist after.Â
Seven oâclock. Itâs not terribly early. Youâd eaten around the same time at the institute. Youâll get to meet the Omega Specialist as well tomorrow. Youâve met plenty of them in your time as an omega, but something about the idea of having someone there who knows, who understands is comforting to you.Â
You send a reply in acknowledgement for tomorrowâs plan before setting an alarm for tomorrow morning. Thereâs an uneasy feeling under your skin, a tickling in the back of your mind that you canât seem to relax. Your eyes are drawn to the desk where the shirts still sit, and before you know it youâre moving to the desk, letting your fingers trail over each one.Â
You grab Priceâs shirt, taking it back to your bed. You curl up with your back facing the door, holding the shirt against your chest, letting the scent of tobacco smoke and whiskey fill your nose. Silent tears slide down your cheeks, your face pressing into the pillow to muffle your sobs.Â
As you try to muffle your tears, you miss the sound of boots pausing in front of your door, the person on the other side standing there for a moment before continuing down the hall.Â
You let out a groan as your alarm pulls you from sleep. You had drifted in and out for a few hours before finally managing to get a couple precious hours of sleep. Youâd woken when the others got up. You knew they were trying to be quiet but you had heard them shuffling around, talking quietly amongst each other. Youâre normally a fairly deep sleeper, but in a new place you always struggle.Â
A new place surrounded by almost complete strangers.Â
You turn off your alarm, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. Theyâre burning a bit, the exhaustion still weighing heavy on your shoulders. You pad to the bathroom, splashing cold water on your face to try and make yourself at least look more alive than you feel. The last thing you need is them getting worried about you. Thatâs attention youâre not sure you want right now.Â
You blink sleepily at your closet, trying to decide what to wear. Were you allowed to wear anything? You didnât have much besides the basics, since the only thing you had been allowed to wear at the institute was its uniform and the clothes they provided. Then when you were with the CIA, they had provided clothes for you to wear as well. The things you have now had been bought by Kate before you left D.C.Â
Everyone on base wore similar variants of the same uniform. Youâre not military, though, so you donât think those rules apply to you. No one had said anything about your state of dress yesterday. You opt for comfort, knowing youâd likely find out soon if you were going to be forced to dress differently too.Â
Youâre tying your shoes when the knock sounds on your door. You had heard the others moving around, footsteps in the hallway, opening and closing doors, quiet voices talking and Soap laughing at something. You know itâs one of them, yet the nervous tickle at the back of your head is back.Â
Soap is leaning casually against your doorframe when you open the door. His face lights up in a smile as he sees you. âMorning, bonny. Sleep alright?âÂ
âYeah.â You shrug. âTossed and turned for a while.âÂ
âWe didne keep ye up did we?â He asks, his smile faltering just a bit.Â
You shake your head. âNo, I never sleep well the first few nights in a new place.âÂ
âWell, our beds are always open if ye need something more comfortable.â He winks at you playfully.Â
Your face warms at his words, the double meaning not lost on you. You were right, Soap was going to be the one to push your boundaries the most.Â
Gaz elbows him in the ribs as he passes. âSheâs been here a day, mate, donât go scaring her off now.â He leans on the other side of your doorframe, giving you a smile. âMorning.âÂ
âMorning.â You say, your face still warm from Soapâs teasing.Â
âYou hungry?â Gaz asks.Â
You nod. You do feel hungry this morning, likely a side effect from your emotional night last night. You step out of your room, the two betas stepping back to give you space as you close the door behind you. Ghost is leaning against the wall next to his door, his eyes watching with the typical cautious disinterest that seemed to be his default setting.Â
Gaz and Soap sandwich you between them again, close enough their arms brush yours as you walk. It was almost as if they could sense your inner turmoil, the neediness still tugging at the back of your mind. If Ghost hadnât been trailing the three of you, you might have been tempted to give in and grip their sleeves, or slip your hands into theirs. How would Ghost respond to such a bold move? The mental image of your body flying through the air as he punted you into next week almost makes you laugh.Â
Price is already seated at a table frowning at his phone over a cup of coffee. Gaz and Soap load up your tray for you, something youâre getting used to rather quickly. It was expected from the alphas, or at least Price, to coddle you a bit, but it seemed the betas were more than happy to get in on it as well.Â
The thought makes something flutter in your chest.Â
Youâre seated between Gaz and Price again once you reach the table, Price greeting you with a tired smile. âMorning. Sleep alright?âÂ
âNot really.â You say honestly. âNew place and all. Iâll settle in eventually.âÂ
âMaybe the Omega Specialist can give you some ideas to help.â He glances at his watch before looking at you as you spoon a heaping spoonful of porridge into your mouth. âTake your time. We have until 8.âÂ
You listen to the conversation at the table as you eat, Gaz and Soap talking about a football game thatâs on tonight. You feel eyes on you, your skin prickling a bit. You glance up, half expecting Ghost to be glowering at you again, but his gaze is focused on his eggs. You cast a quick glance around the mess, turning slightly to look behind you.Â
Three tables over, you find the gaze of some soldier focused on you. You havenât paid much attention to anyone else on the base, but then again you havenât had much time or reason to yet. You canât read the expression on his face as he stares at you, but you feel a shiver run down your spine as your eyes meet his.Â
He stares at you for a few seconds before his gaze moves slightly past you, quickly dropping back to his plate. You turn around, finding Ghost staring just past your head. His eyes are narrowed, his scent coming off stronger than it had been. You can practically see his hackles raised, the warning clear in the air. You feel the urge to curl in on yourself, the threatening aura radiating from him makes you want to cower.Â
It doesn't go unnoticed by those at the table either.Â
âEasy, Ghost.â Price says calmly, Gaz turning to follow his line of sight.Â
âBloody wanker.â Ghost grumbles before rising from the table.Â
You turn back around, but the soldier that had been staring at you is gone.Â
You nervously pick at your sweatshirt sleeves as you sit in the plastic chair next to Price. Youâre still on edge a bit from what happened at breakfast. It wasnât so much being stared at that bothered you. After now three meals in the mess, youâve almost come to expect it. Itâs Ghostâs reaction that has your mind still reeling.Â
âIâve always hated the medical center.â Price says with a sigh as he leans his head back against the wall. âIt smells too sterile. Makes my nose burn. Reminds me of too many close calls.âÂ
His words jar you a bit. You hadnât even thought about that aspect of his job. Heâs used to getting shot at, to getting into fights, running head first into danger that would send most running the other way. You wonder how many times heâs been the one with the close call, and how many others heâs had to watch have their own.Â
You wonder how many times heâs had to make that trip to tell someoneâs family.Â
Youâre pulled from your thoughts as the door across from you opens. Price pushes himself to his feet, and you follow as a kind looking woman steps out. You breathe a quiet sigh of relief. You donât have anything against male Omega Specialists, but you were already surrounded by men. Sure you have Kate, but sheâs half a world away.Â
Sheâs tall, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. Despite being a doctor sheâs dressed casually, no white coat or gloves to be seen. Her eyes are light green and crease in the corners when she smiles.Â
âHello, Iâm Dr. Keller.â She introduces herself, shaking Priceâs hand.Â
American. You think, silently breathing another sigh of relief. Kate really had pulled some strings with this one.Â
âCaptain John Price.â He says.Â
You introduce yourself when she turns to you, shaking your hand. Her voice is soft and gentle, the scent of beta coming off her in waves.Â
âCome on in,â She says, leading you into the office. âSit anywhere you like. Make yourselves comfortable.âÂ
Her office isnât what you expected either. Instead of the harsh fluorescents, the lighting is softer, warmer. Thereâs paintings and posters all over the walls, along with several plants. Thereâs a desk covered in books and paperwork in one corner and a bookshelf with several books packed into it in the other. Thereâs a couch on one wall, and a couple plush looking chairs on the other.Â
You move to one of the chairs, sinking down onto it. It envelops you in softness, and you feel as if you might sink into it and never be able to get out. After a day of hard plastic and stiff blankets, it nearly makes you weep.Â
Price takes the chair next to you, Dr. Keller sitting on the couch across from you. The office smells good, a light, neutral scent in the air aside from the pure almondy scent of beta.Â
âAlright,â She says, holding a tablet and a stack of files in her lap. âI always like to start by introducing myself and telling you a bit about me, then weâll get into the important stuff.âÂ
She jumps into telling you about herself. Where she grew up: California. Where she studied: UC Berkeley. What institute she did her residency at: West Coast Training Academy. Where she worked last before Kate called her in: some poor inner city institute in LA.Â
âNow, on to the more important stuff.â She says, turning on the tablet. âI got your medical records yesterday. Youâre quite the healthy girl.âÂ
âYes ma'am. I have good genes. Thatâs what my mom used to say.â You respond.Â
Dr. Keller smiles. âHardly even been sick. Your heats are all normal, too, correct?âÂ
âYes, maâam.â You say. âExcept for a three month stretch two years ago.âÂ
âYes, the heat sickness epidemic that hit America.â She says.Â
You nod. âFIOT locked down completely and everyone was supposed to quarantine, but I heard a rumor that it was one of the beta food workers. She snuck out to see her alpha boyfriend and brought it in with her. We only think it was her because she disappeared not long after the first omega got sick.âÂ
Dr. Keller hums. âI know not everyone was so willing to take it seriously. You made a full recovery, though. No lasting side effects, Iâm sure thanks to the state of the art medical facilities that FIOT keeps.âÂ
âYes, maâam. We were lucky it was just a mild case.âÂ
âThat is lucky.â She flips through something on the tablet. âYour lab results all look phenomenal. I like to do checkups monthly, just to ensure everything is working as it should. I know the CIA gave you quite the cocktail of vaccines while you were with them.â She turns her gaze to Price. âCaptain Price, Iâve sent in a request for your teamâs vaccination records as well. Iâm sure youâve had everything under the sun, but Iâd like to ensure thereâs no risk of any accidental exposures.âÂ
âI donât see a problem with that.â Price says. âIf RAMC gives you any trouble, just let me know. Iâll get them for you myself.âÂ
âThank you, Captain.â She says. âOne last bit in this part and then we can move on. I see FIOT issued an implant before you left, as is standard practice.âÂ
You nod. âYes, maâam.âÂ
âGood. Youâve had more than enough time for it to take effect so we wonât have to worry about any accidental slip ups during your next heat.âÂ
Your cheeks warm at her words a bit. Youâve been trying to avoid thinking about that inevitable side of things.Â
âAnd your next heat is roughly six weeks away.â She says, looking at the calendar. âDon't be surprised if it comes a little earlier now that youâre being exposed to alphas again.âÂ
Your stomach twists nervously at that thought. It was common for heats to be triggered early after exposure to alphas, especially after such a prolonged period without exposure to them. It wasnât likely to start tomorrow, but you knew it could jump a week or two due to the natural pheromones alphas put off, and the instinctual call for the alpha/omega bond.Â
âYouâre planning for the claiming to take place during the heat?â Dr. Keller asks.Â
âYes, thatâs the plan.â Price says.Â
âThat is the most natural time for it.â Dr. Keller says. âOf course, it is always up to omega preference in the end.âÂ
You donât miss the way her eyes dart to you for a second.Â
âNow that thatâs over with,â She says, putting the tablet to the side. âIf itâs alright with you, Iâd like to do this next part with just the two of us.âÂ
A beat of silence passes before you realize sheâs asking you. Her eyes are on you, and so are Priceâs. Sheâs asking you. Sheâs asking you what you want.Â
âI-I guess...yeah.â You stutter over your words, not quite sure how to answer. Is there a wrong answer? Would Price be upset if you said yes? Would Dr. Keller be upset if you said no? Your eyes turn to Price, trying to gauge his reaction.Â
âItâs up to you.â He says softly. âWeâre here for you.âÂ
You sit up a little straighter at his words, nodding your head. âY-Yes. Thatâs okay.âÂ
Price pushes himself to stand up. âIâll be right outside.âÂ
The air inside the room seems to lighten as he leaves, Dr. Keller reclining back on the couch as the door clicks shut. She pulls out a stack of papers and a pen before she looks at you. Your palms are sweating, and youâre starting to think youâd like the chair to swallow you whole.Â
âThis next part can feel a bit personal, but I just want you to know that everything you say in here is as confidential as youâd like it to be. Captain Price is right. I am an Omega Specialist, Iâm here for you. Iâm not just a doctor, Iâm here to help you in all aspects of being an omega. I know FIOT teaches a lot, mainly obedience and compliance. I want to make it clear that you can be honest with me.â She holds up the stack of papers. âNo one is going to see these papers but me, alright?âÂ
âYes, maâam.â You nod.Â
âYou donât have to be so formal with me.â She smiles. âYou can call me Dr. Keller, or Doc. You could even call me an evil bitch if you want, it wonât phase me any.âÂ
You canât help the small smile that forms on your face.Â
âIâve got some questions Iâd like to ask you. Theyâre a sort of tracker to measure how well youâre settling in and bonding with your new pack. Iâd like to meet once a week until your next heat just to see how well youâre settling in. After that we can meet as often as youâd like. Sound good?âÂ
You nod in approval. It sounds like a lot, but you also know youâre going to have a lot of downtime, even with your pack on base.Â
âAlright, letâs get started. How are you settling in? I know itâs barely been a day, but I want to know how you feel here.âÂ
Your heart begins to pound in your chest. How do you feel here? How do you feel after being pulled from the institute and taken to a training facility where you found out youâd be moving halfway across the world to be a military packâs omega.Â
This wasnât what you had expected when you reached the age where you became an available omega. Most omegas at FIOT came from rich, powerful, important families and your purpose there was to be groomed into the perfect omega to return right back to that world.Â
You thought you would be chosen quickly. You had expected it. With your scores and your high ratings and your status, you were what most alphas dreamed of. Yet, the years had passed and though there was some interest, nothing had ever come of it. You werenât alone in it. There were others like you, those who excelled at being an omega, but then seemed to stall in the selection once they came of age.Â
Of course, now that you look back on it, you canât help but think it might have been done on purpose. The Omega Initiative was new, you had been told during your first briefing explaining why you were taken to a remote building somewhere outside of D.C. and greeted not by your new pack, but swathes of CIA agents. Military packs were nothing new, but they wanted to utilize the naturally formed packs and make them stronger and more stable by adding in omegas.Â
Only highly skilled omegas were considered for the program, but of course you had no say in whether you were going to partake or not. They chose the omegas and they decided where you would end up.Â
It wasnât that dissimilar from being chosen from an Institute. At FIOT there was a screening process packs had to go through to be determined eligible to have access to omega files. Then the pack would have to send a neutral emissary, usually a beta, to meet the omegas in person and choose on behalf of the alpha. Most institutes donât have that strenuous of a process, and some donât have a process at all. In some, alphas themselves could walk in and choose an omega without even so much as a background check.Â
Omegas never got a say. As soon as you were handed over to an institute, the ability to choose was taken from you. Whoever your caretakers were as a pup signed over their rights to you and the institute became your legal guardian. They dictated your life up until you joined a new pack.Â
You had hoped it would be someone rich. If nothing else, youâd get to live a cushy life and youâd never have to worry about anything. When they told you what was really going to happen to you, you had almost cried. You did cry, late at night curled up in your bunk after hours of training and briefings.Â
Kate picked you for this pack specifically because she knew them and she knew you could handle them and their world.Â
Maybe if you had been worse at being an omega, things would have been better for you.Â
Or maybe they would have been worse.Â
âItâs...different.â You finally say, picking at your sleeves again. âBut in a lot of ways, itâs similar to The Institute. It always takes me time to settle somewhere new.âÂ
âMe too.â Dr. Keller says, writing some things down. âAnd with the time change, itâs just so much harder. I feel like I should be in bed right now, but itâs 8 AM. Have you started nesting?âÂ
You shake your head. âNo. I donât even feel the urge to.âÂ
âThatâs fine.â She says, writing something else down. âIn truth, Iâd be more concerned if you were.âÂ
Your eyebrows raise a bit. âWhy?âÂ
âDuring an adjustment period for an omega, especially in a new pack, there can be something that happens called false instincts. The sudden urge to nest, a drive to bond with pack members too soon, false heats. Itâs usually brought on by a sudden change in environment, like when omegas are taken from a place where theyâve spent sometimes years with no exposure to alphas and are suddenly thrown into a space with a lot of alphas. Itâs more common in larger packs where you have alphas, betas, and other omegas.âÂ
âCould it happen in smaller packs?â You ask.Â
âItâs possible, though rare. It can cause some serious issues down the line when those instincts are actually supposed to begin to show up, like adjustment sickness. Iâd say if youâre starting to feel the urge to nest or bond before the first week is up, then come talk to me, alright?âÂ
âYes, maâam.â You nod.Â
She smiles, turning the page. âHow far have you gotten with the bonding process?âÂ
âJust the scenting yesterday.â You answer.Â
âAnd how did that go?âÂ
You pick at the loose thread on your sweatshirt. âFine. It was...overwhelming.âÂ
âThey can be.â Dr. Keller says. âThe new members of your pack, how are you getting along with them?âÂ
âFine, I guess.â You shrug. âI like Soap and Gaz. Price, heâs...heâs nice, and Ghost...â You trail off, not sure how to answer. If sheâd asked before breakfast you might have said he doesn't like you. He doesnât want you to be part of his pack, but after what happened at breakfast...
You canât be sure he did it for you. He could have thought that soldier was staring at Soap or Gaz or even Price. He could have thought the soldier was staring at him and was annoyed with it. He had scared off the stares at every meal youâd eaten together, but how often did they get stared at? You couldnât know if that was a daily occurrence and he was just growing sick of it.Â
He could be annoyed with you because youâre drawing in the stares.Â
âI donât know what to think about him yet.â You answer.Â
She writes something else down, going through a few more questions with you. How is your appetite? How are you sleeping? Are you taking care of your needs? Do you have any concerns?Â
Before you know it the hour has passed and youâre walking out the door into the fluorescent, sterile hallway of the medical center.Â
âRemember, you have my number. If you need anything, Iâm here for you.â Dr. Keller says as you part ways.Â
You walk with Price out of the medical center, glad to be out in the fresh air. Itâs not particularly warm, and the sun is hidden behind a layer of clouds, but itâs better than the medical center.Â
âWhat do you think?â Price asks as you follow him back to the barracks.Â
âI think it went well.â You say, mind still reeling from an eventful morning. Youâre beginning to feel your restless night.Â
âDo you like Dr. Keller?â He asks, probing a bit.Â
You nod. âYes, sir. Sheâs nice.âÂ
âGood.â He says, opening the door to the barracks for you. âI have to leave to oversee training for the next few hours.â He glances at his watch. âOne of us will come get you for lunch.âÂ
You nod. Of course youâd find yourself alone again between meals. Youâre beginning to notice a pattern. âYes, sir.âÂ
His hand is warm as it settles on your shoulder, squeezing gently. Youâre surprised by the touch, as small as it is. Were they too fighting the urge to get close to you, like you had this morning?Â
You can still feel the warmth of his hand even after itâs disappeared and heâs gone. You head for the rec room, deciding to avoid the constricting feeling of being shut in your room for the time being.Â
The TV is on when you enter, but the room is empty, playing some morning talk show. You move to the bookshelf against the wall, letting your eyes scan the titles. There's a surprising lack of military-based books shoved into the packed shelf. Of course there's a handful of old manuals and handbooks, nothing that you're particularly concerned about needing to read. You let out a sigh, standing on your toes to reach a Brandon Sanderson novel.Â
You look around the room but the remote for the TV seems to be missing, and itâs too high on the wall for you to reach the power button, so you leave it on, curling up on one corner of the couch as you begin to read.Â
Youâre not sure how much time has passed when something moves in your peripheral. The sun has come out briefly, shining in through the windows. You look up from the book, suddenly feeling very small under Ghostâs gaze. His eyes are narrowed as he stares down at you, a thousand things flashing through your mind. Are you in his spot? Is this his book? Had he come to the rec room hoping to be alone and here you are infringing in his space?Â
âCome on.â He says, his voice rougher than it had been this morning. âLunch.âÂ
Heâs already turned and heading out the door as you scramble up, leaving the book on the coffee table as you hurry to catch up to him. His steps are quick and wide, and you find yourself having to almost speedwalk to keep up with him.Â
Your thoughts are jumbled as you follow him out of the barracks and off towards the mess. Why would they send him to get you? Was he the only one available? Yesterday they had time before lunch to return to the barracks, or had that only been because of you? Or were they perhaps hoping this might offer a chance for the two of you to bond a bit?Â
Or were they entirely blind to Ghostâs disinterest in your existence?Â
Perhaps they were used to it. After so long together, perhaps they just thought it was normal. If you were brave enough to bring it up, would you get a âoh thatâs just how he isâ in response?Â
You canât see the others as you enter the mess, Ghost leading you to the line. He stands behind you like a hulking shadow, his scent covered by the smell of gunpowder and sweat. You fill your own tray for the first time, grabbing things that look appetizing. Youâll have to get used to it eventually, even though the others insisted on doing it for the time being. When theyâre not here, youâll have to do it yourself.Â
Ghost leads you to an empty table, and you opt to sit across from him. You begin to eat, taking big bites to avoid the need for conversation, not that you really thought Ghost would strike up a conversation with you. Your eyes flicker around the room nervously, glancing over the entrances time and time again, waiting for the others to arrive.Â
âStop twitching. Theyâre on their way.âÂ
The words cut straight through you and you snap your head around to face Ghost. Heâs got his mask pulled up to his nose, your eyes immediately drawn to the exposed pale skin. Thereâs light stubble on his chin. You remember how that had felt on your own skin when heâd scented you. Heâs blonde, you think, or at least has light hair judging by the color of the stubble. Thereâs a scar on his chin, almost hidden by the stubble.Â
Your face warms as you realize youâve been caught in your nervous fretting. Of course, you should have known he would take notice. Thereâs not a lot they donât notice, you think. Though, when your survival depends on noticing even the smallest detail of anything or anyone...
You jump as a tray is set down next to yours, your eyes snapping up to see Gaz with a smile on his face. You turn back to look at Ghost, his mask pulled back down but you see a slight shake to his shoulders for a second.
Was he...laughing at you?Â
Your attention is drawn from him as Gaz takes a seat next to you, sitting close enough his arm is almost brushing yours. Price and Soap taking their usual spots as well. Youâre beginning to pick up on the patterns that existed around them, and their own patterns. Perhaps that will make it easier for you to fit yourself into their lives. You knew from the start they werenât going to change to fit you into their lives. They couldnât. You were going to have to find a way to fit into their lives.Â
Gaz walks you back to the barracks after lunch, abnormally quiet as he watches you warily. He walks you to your door, leaning on the doorframe as you step inside.Â
âYou alright?â He asks, big brown eyes shining with worry as he looks you over.Â
âYeah.â You nod, shifting on your feet. âJust tired. I think I might take a nap.âÂ
He nods, and youâre sure he doesn't quite believe you, but he doesnât press any. âAlright. Happy napping.âÂ
You close the door as he leaves, sinking down onto the edge of the bed with a sigh. Itâs been a long day and itâs only lunch. Between the probing questions from Dr. Keller and the few minutes you had spent alone with Ghost you feel exhausted. It was good to know you werenât entirely broken in your lack of nesting instincts, and perhaps your turmoil with belonging in this place wasnât quite as abnormal as you thought.Â
What to do about Ghost.
Heâs said more words to you today than he did in the entirety of the previous day. In fact, you think today might be the first time heâs spoken to you at all. You know he doesnât approve of you, and youâd go so far as to say he doesnât like you. You can imagine he fought the hardest against you being added to the pack. They were fine without you. It didnât take a genius to see that.Â
Youâre an outsider. A civilian. A risk.Â
An unneeded disruption to their lives.Â
You pull your phone out of your pocket, staring at the dark screen. You know Ghost might never accept you. He wonât want to claim you, he wonât mate you, but...perhaps you might just get him to tolerate you.Â
You unlock your phone, sending a quick text to Kate.Â
âCan you get a book for me?â
You regret your decision momentarily as you step into the rec room. Gaz and Soap are lounged on the couch, beer bottles open on the coffee table. The TV is playing ads, their attention on each other. You almost feel as if youâre infringing upon a private moment as they laugh, half tempted to race back to your room and hide until your hunger draws you out or someone breaks down the door to get to you.Â
âHey!â Gazâs face lights up when he sees you, Soap turning to look at you.
âHey, bonny!â His face lights up with a smile.Â
âDo you mind if I join you?â You ask, shifting nervously on your feet.Â
âNot at all.â Gaz says, patting the empty spot on the couch next to him. âYou want a beer?âÂ
You shake your head. âNo thank you. Never could get past the taste.âÂ
Soap throws his head back as he laughs, slapping Gazâs shoulder. âI keep tellinâ ye!âÂ
âYet you keep drinking it!â Gaz attempts to defend himself.Â
âCause itâs thâ only thing we got!â Soap argues, leaning around Gaz to stare at you. âSo, ye a football fan, bonny?âÂ
âWell, I watched the World Cup a couple times as a kid.â You say. âMy household was more of an American football and baseball household. Two of my older brothers played soccer, though they never were very serious about it. Mostly just did it to fulfill my dadâs physical activity extracurricular requirement.âÂ
âWhat did you do to fulfill that requirement?â Gaz asks as he takes a sip of his beer.Â
âSoftball. I was...not good at it.â You laugh. âI could catch and throw, but I donât think I hit the ball a single time I was at bat.âÂ
Both of them chuckle, turning back to the TV as the ad ends. âDonât worry, weâll turn you into a proper football fan yet.â Gaz says.Â
You watch the game with them, and it doesnât take you long to realize theyâre rooting for opposing teams. They explain things to you here and there in between yelling at the TV and each other. Despite how loud they are, you find yourself relaxing further and further, the tension from the last two days easing away, even as the two betas yell at each other over a soccer game.Â
Gaz tenses for a second as he feels a sudden weight on his shoulder. He turns his head slightly, noticing youâve fallen asleep, your head drooping onto his shoulder. His lips quirk up in a smile as he gently nudges Soap.Â
âWha?â Soap asks, turning to look at him.Â
He jerks his head to the side, leaning back just slightly so Soap can see. A grin breaks out on the younger manâs face and he pulls out his phone. âAww, look aâ that. Think we should wake âer and get âer tae bed?âÂ
âNah.â Gaz says. âLet her sleep for now. She probably needs it.âÂ
You sleep soundly through overtime, Gaz not moving until the post game is over, letting you sleep as long as possible. He knows you have to be tired, after the last few days and the time difference. You looked tired today, with dark circles and droopy eyes. He hates to wake you, but he knows you canât sleep on the couch.Â
He nudges you gently, trying to rouse you. âHey.â He nudges you again, your head finally lifting off his shoulder.Â
You blink sleepily, rubbing at your eyes. You make a quiet sound in protest of being awake, eyes drooping closed again.Â
âCome on, love.â He says, keeping you upright. âItâs time for bed.âÂ
You cover your yawn with your hand, blinking at him sleepily. âBed?â You murmur sleepily, Gaz smiling softly at how adorable you are in this state.Â
âYeah, youâll be more comfortable in bed.â He pushes himself to stand, hands on your arms to pull you up.Â
You make another sound in protest, nearly falling against his chest when he gets you on your feet. He wraps an arm around you, letting you lean on him as he guides you back to bed, Soap cleaning up the mess they had made.Â
Youâre more awake once you get to your door, blinking up at him with bleary eyes. ââS fun.â You murmur, rubbing your eyes. âShould do that more often.âÂ
âYouâre always welcome to join us.â He says. âGet some rest. Youâve had a long week.â He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. âNight, love.âÂ
He waits until your door is closed before heading back down the hallway towards the rec room, a small smile on his face.Â
NEXT ->
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A Day in Life
Synopsis: A day in the life of Jason Todd. Also, he's a househusband now. Oh, and a little plot twist.
Pairing: Househusband!Jason Todd X Gn!Reader; Platonic!Batfam
Tw: Canon level angst for Jason; Some sexual innuendos; Writer apparently doesn't know how to finish a story anymore; This is pretty slice-of-life so maybe boring?; English is not my first language.
Word count: 3,8k
Requested? No.
General masterlist | A Day in Life - Series masterlist
Wake up, make out, get up. First steps of your everyday routine. Sometimes making out turns into something more, but not today.
From his past life, as Robin, Jason learned a lot about discipline. As much as he tried to forget everything and everyone from his past before you, some habits die hard, although with time, with you and with therapy, he accepted that not all of his experience was bad or should be thrown away just because of one sociopathic clown who hurt him. Yes, Jason died, came back angry and did a lot of shit. But he was still alive and this could be a second chance.
While you, his darling spouse, get ready for work, Jason gets up, puts on his apron, fills the dog bowl for Daphne â your little brown dachshund that you adopted together four months after getting married â, opens the doors to the garden, so the dog can do whatever, and finally starts making breakfast and lunch. Breakfast so you two can eat together and lunch for you to eat at work. Sometimes you both meet up and eat together at your office or a restaurant. Today, that's not the case.
Simple yogurt with fresh fruits and nuts, coupled with a slice of chocolate cake he baked the day prior, eggs, toast and coffee for breakfast. As for your lunch box, a natural sandwich, salad, fruits and juice. He also fills up your two liter water bottle, so you feel pressured have no excuse but to stay hydrated.
Food. Until he was 12 his relationship with food was complicated, to stay the least. At first, his beloved but troubled mom would be in no condition to cook him three or more nice and fulfilling meals a day for a growing boy, he either had to learn and make do with quick instant food, eggs and old bread, or starve, since money was something he only saw when it was being handled to her drug dealer. His father was even worse. Jason loved his mom. Still suffers for her. He hated his father who was the one making her addiction worse. Heâs still happy he died.
Living on the streets, food was a dream. A bad dream. It either came from trash or he had to do things that made him feel humiliated and guilty just to get some. And it was gone in a flash, he was so hungry he devoured it all in a second, and then his belly hurt.
Then he came. Jason loved his new father. Loved his new grandfather. Loved their food. So healthy, abundant and full of taste. So fun to prepare. He learned a lot from Alfred because he loved to spend time with him, play with the ingredients and make everyone and himself happy with the results.
But then he had those memories wiped out of his mind, (un)fortunately they came back, but at that time food was in the back of his mind. Sure, he didn't have to worry about starving, crime paid more than enough for that, but he didn't put much thought into any of it.
Now, with you, he's making new memories with food. He cooked and baked a lot with you and for you throughout all your relationship, and you did the same for him. He loves his kitchen, just like the rest of your house. The pantry and fridge are always full thanks to you. You take good care of him. You make his trust in you be worth it. And he reciprocates it. Healthy and nice food that brings comfort and makes you roll your eyes. Especially after he started frequenting cooking classes as a hobby, again, thanks to you.
After you are gone with a full belly and a pet in the ass (just like him, honestly), he continues his routine. He changes clothes and goes to the gym. Jason never stopped exercising, but the lack of all the activity vigilantism entails and with all the treats you two have, he started getting more soft. You loved it, he hated it. â Okay he didn't hate it, he just wasn't the most happy with it. Roy thought it was kinda funny, until Jason pointed out he also got softer after Lian. You honestly couldn't see why all that softness they were talking about was so bad since they were still very muscular and defined, just less dry and more snuggly. You honestly thought your Jaybird could go even further. â So the addiction of yoga to his routine happened.
After that, he goes straight home, eats, showers, takes care of his appearance to keep looking like a proper hubby that you can shove on your bitter frenemies faces, and makes sure to keep the maintenance of the house, so you can come back tired from work and enjoy a perfect house to rest on.
Hygiene. Another things that was complicated with his biological family. His father wouldn't touch a single plate or broom, and would beat and scream at his mom if she didn't put her high (again, because of him) ass up and did the labor. Most often than not, their house was messy, had a bad smell that his little nose was so used to that it's not like he minded, and had insects around. His clothes were dirty hand-me-downs, some fit him, some didn't, a lot of them had holes. His hair tangled and itchy.
When he went to the streets, it just got worse.
Bruce and Alfred fixed that. He finally learned what stink was because he only knew good and neutral scents. His clothes fit him. Everything around him was clean and well-kept. No holes, no stains. Hair always trimmed, soft and clean. Well maintained.
When he came back, cleanliness was basic. Of course he is gonna keep everything around him clean. Habit and common sense, you know? Clothes his size because why the hell would he use hand-me-downs when he can just buy his own? And they had to be the right size for his new 6â2 and almost 200 lbs body. Hair? Whatever. Always washed but as long as it didn't look ridiculous he didn't have time to put much thought on his appearance. He was genuinely surprised you were attracted to him at first sight.
Being with you, he learned to enjoy the little things in life again. Sometimes he finds himself unmoving in front of a random room of the house, or in front of the mirror, trying to grasp if it's all real, If this is really his life, if that's how he looks. His mind flashes memories of his childhood home and his current home. He ignores the memories of the manor not only because of the betrayal he felt for Bruce, but also because the manor was from the Wayne's. He was a Wayne. He is not anymore. This is him. His new house, with you, is what he wished he had growing up. What he always dreamed of. Love. Company. And comfort. He felt all of that while being a Wayne, until he despised the Wayne's. Not the couple that died decades ago or the centuries old descendants. But his father and his siblings.
On days where he doesn't take care of the house, he practices his hobbies. He now has time to do it all, surprising you, his therapist, Roy, and himself, he did cooking, gardening, pottery, crocheting and of course, reading. You paid for all his classes, praised him on his achievements, added his creations to the decor of the house, accompanied him on any event or place related to his interests, gave him his own library in one of the rooms in the house. He even made some friends between middle-aged women and the only other househusband and stay-a-home dad that frequented those places.
It was very funny and cute seeing rough, huge, leather jacket wearing and scarred Jason Todd telling jokes to 50-year-old white moms/grandmas and sometimes even babysitting their kids, pets and plants. You knew he could be a good dad one day if you decided to have kids. He was also more than happy to have just you, Daphne and good friends. And plants.
Warmth. When he was a kid his parents broke the heater during a fight, he wondered if they didn't have money to fix it, even with his father's activities, or if his father just refused to fix it. Anyhow, it was always cold in Gotham, freezing on winter, his dirty clothes with holes didn't help much. The streets didn't seem much different in that aspect. The manor kept him warm when he wasn't seven feet under the dirt, in a casket. When he came back, Jason always wore the warmest of clothes, even while sweating, he didn't know why. Now he did. Your house is always warm. Your body is always warm. Comfort. Your love gave him comfort. Warmth. A reason to live.
Love. His mom. Bruce and Alfred. You.
After he was done and rested for a little, Jason took Daphne for a walk in the way to the grocery shop. He wanted to try a new receipt you saw on tiktok today for dinner and had to get more flour and something for the filling.
After a few minutes of walking on his perfectly nice looking and safe neighborhood â nothing like crime alley. The type of neighborhood he saw on the television and imagined those other happy kids his age living and envied them. Dreamed of being adopted into one of their families while jumping from orphanage to orphanage. It never happened. He just got more abused. And then the manor was so isolated that you could only see mansions and plants all around. So big and far away that they looked empty of life. â he got there and strapped the dog to a post, next to a smiley golden retriever.
He got in and- fuck it, I'm going home. The empanadas can wait another day.
â Jason? Oh my god. Jason! Is that you?! â The infuriatingly familiar loud voice calls out from the middle of the shop and all heads turn to look. Shit, he can't go now without embarrassing himself in front of the cashier of his favorite and most visited shop. So he just nods, takes a basket and walks as if there was nothing interesting happening. It worked with the others costumers, unfortunately, Dick thought it was way too interesting and forgot his own basket that only contained eggs and cereal, and started following him around, this time, with a less surprised tone.
â Hey, Dick. â Jason idly muttered, that just made his coff coff brother indignant.
â Hey, Dick?! What the hell? Where were you? It's been three years! We thought you were dead! Or kidnapped! We never stopped looking for you! We were worried! We mourned! What happened? â Was it bad that Jason didn't want to give him a real answer? Probably. Especially with how much his therapist, who he saw on the days he didn't go to the gym, told him he should try to mend things with his family. So much so that he started actually contemplating it recently. But if he did it, it was going to be on his own time. Not by bumping into them in the grocery store. Oh, well. Jason was always good at adapting. The best.
And wow, three years had passed? Makes sense. Recovery does take time and he's been really happy for a while. Jason still remembers the day he decided to quit everything. It was the same day he decided you were the one, truthfully he always knew you were marriage material, the perfect one for him, out of his league, straight out of his most amazing dreams, peak goal for him, but he wasn't sure if he deserved to be the one you should be stuck with forever. He desperately wanted to, but he had to commit. Ride or die. He loved you, now more than ever, and didn't want to waste your time. He was still a bit messy at the time, but you made it all better, he was a lot better than he was before you came into the picture. You were the right choice. Jason always took you seriously, he was just insecure. So, while still in around eight months of relationship, he quit everything.
He quit his family. He quit vigilantism. He searched for recovery. And a year and a half later, with a little more than two years of dating, he made the big proposal. You married on your three-year anniversary. Got Daphne four months later. It's been around three or four months ever since.
While Dickâs math might not be exact, it is not necessary in this context, the point came across just fine.
He also knew that the fact that you both decided to not leave Gotham was going to bite him in the ass one day. One way or another.
â What happened? Oh, well. I retired. Got married. And now I'm a dad. â Daphne was like a daughter to him, so it was the same, right?
His nonchalant reply didn't seem to satisfy the other, though. Todd could see it, the urge to strangle him in his eyes. Dick wouldn't strangle his dead missing little brother, would he?
â You⌠You what? â Dick was in disbelief.
â You guys searched for me? Thanks, I guess? It means a lot. â Jason just sniffed and went on his way, leaving Grayson behind, paralyzed.
Maybe he could be fast enough and get out of there before the older one got a grasp of his senses back and followed him out. Part of him felt hope, the other heard yours and his therapist voices in his head, and the nagging was annoying. Maybe he never stopped being a âgrumpâ, like you always amusedly said.
Oh, no. Here he comes again. Jason suppresses an eye-roll.
â Stop. Can you really explain? â The mix of emotions was almost overwhelming, an urge to cry, punch a wall, punch Jason's face, scream and who knows what more was running through Dick's body.
Jason sighed and finally addressed him completely. Tone lower so no one could hear.
â Okay. I met someone⌠Someone good. Someone special. A civilian. I was tired of everything. So I decided to retire and made sure none of you could find me. I'm surprised Roy and Lian kept the secret from you, though. Anyway. Now I'm a stay-at-home hubby, have a dog and go to therapy. You happy? â A beat of silence. â Hey, don't make that face⌠I was going to tell you guys eventually⌠When I felt like it⌠It's not like you guys saw me a lot. How much time did it take for you all to miss me? I made an appearance once in a while when someone asked for help and that's it. Alfred knew everything so if youâre gonna be mad at anyone, be at him too, not just me⌠And Roy. Don't forget Roy.
â A-Are you kidding me? Oh, yes, blame the butler! You couldn't even tell us? Like âhey guys, I'm gonna retire and take some time for myself for a while. Also, come to my wedding!â I wanted to be invited, you know?! Why didn't you invite me? Did you at least invite Alfred? Did- â Jason rolled his eyes and cut his rant.
â Yes, Alfred was there. Front row and everything. â Dick shrieked.
â T-Thatâs not the point! â His voice raised slightly from exasperation and both of them checked around for anyone's attention, then came back to the conversation.
Jason raised a hand to interrupt him and took a deep breath.
â Look. I wasn't in a nice place at the time, okay? I'm better now⌠And I was going to talk to you guys sooner rather than later⌠â Jason let a moment of vulnerability shine, hoping that would melt his brother's heart and fix things. It did. â We will have a second wedding when we renovate our vows in our 5th anniversary. You can be there⌠Everyone can be there. â Jason cleared his throat to interrupt the other again. â But now I have to get home in time to make dinner for my honeyboo, so why don't we⌠Stay in contact and⌠One of those days everyone can have dinner together and catch up, huh?
Dick took one of the deepest breaths of his whole life. Jason pursed his lips.
â Okay⌠â He stuck a finger in his face roughly. â But don't disappear again. Or else I promise Iâm gonna personally make everyone track you down, understood? â Jason snorted. As if Tim and Bruce wouldn't do it already once they knew everything. As if Bruce didn't secretly keep track of him this whole time. Unless⌠Unless everyone changed and he didn't know his⌠His family anymore.
Why did it make him feel weird?
â Yes, boss. â Jason saluted him and left.
â Relax⌠â You elongated the word. â Nothing bad it's gonna happen⌠â You went behind Jason and tried rubbing his broad shoulders to chase the tenseness away. The sight and feel of his muscles almost made you drool, and you blinked to focus again.
â How do you know? â You pursed your lips and went to his side to try to make him take his eyes off of cleaning the countertop for the 4th time due to anxiety.
â Because they love you. And they care about you. And they miss you. â Jason deadpanned you. â Just give it a chance. If anything goes wrong, we will just kick them out and you never have to talk to them, ever again. We can even move if you want. Or go on a vacation to the same place we had our honeymoon, I can wear that skimpy piece you like⌠Spoil you rotten⌠â Your voice lowered seductively and you pressed your body to his side, running your hand up and down his arms with some pressure.
Jasonâs mind went blank and he was speechless for a few seconds. Your eyebrows raised with a small, convincing smile that made all his worries go away. He sighed.
â Okay⌠Okay, youâre right⌠â He leaned down and sneaked an arm around your waist. You both shared a slow and wet kiss, bordering between sensual and calming. Unfortunately, he had to wait a few hours before having some action. He pulled his face away a few centimeters, looking you in the eyes. â I thought I had ripped that thing. â You blinked.
â You just might have. But I bought another one because I looked too good on it not to wear it again. â You shared a chuckle when the doorbell rang. You both looked at the door, then at each other. â Want me to get it? â You ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm the last of his nerves. Jason swallowed.
â No. Have to get it over with. â He took a deep breath and then let out. Pulling away from your embrace. â Put the juice on the table for me, please? â You hummed and nodded.
Without giving a second thought, he walked in long strides and abruptly opened the door.
It was like that scene in Avengers: End Game when on one side there was just Captain America against the whole Thanos's army, just staring at each other.
â Are you wearing an apron? â Damian snarked with an eyebrow raised. Jason looked down. Yes, he was. Good start.
â Take your shoes off, thereâs other shoes for you all there. And here I was having hope that at fifteen you wouldn't be a demon anymore. â Jason said sarcastically and gave them space to enter.
As soon as they got in the neighborhood they were all already skeptical. If you were the only one working, how much do you earn to live in such a nice area and with this nice house? They could even see a pool in the backyard and there were TWO expensive cars in the driveway. Jason said he quit all of the crime lord thing, did he keep the savings? Did he invest?
The little dog came running and barking, taking their attention away from the house and their shoes, Damian immediately crouched to pet her. Jason let a side of his lips go up. At least that hasn't changed.
â Her name is Daphne. â Jason spoke over the cooing of Duke and Cass at the dog. He locked eyes with Bruce who had an unreadable expression on his face. He looked older, Jason didn't know how to feel about that. Then gazed at Dick, who had a shit eating grin, Alfred, whose satisfied smile warmed his heart, and Tim, who was analyzing the space while changing shoes.
â Nice place. So, what does your partner do? â Are they committing fraud? â You appeared from the corner and replied for him.
â I direct the Queen Industriesâs Gothamâs office. â You answered softly with a polite smile, stopping besides Jason, who wrapped an arm around you. Everyone's gaze turning on you made you feel shy, but you held on with confidence.
â Oh, wow, so Jason really is a malewife. â Your eyes widened in surprised and you couldn't hold back a laugh. Jason let a small smile graze his lips, coaxing the easiness out of him.
â I offered to pay cleaning and cooking service, but he wanted to do things himself. â You say, a little afraid they would get angry at you for âslaveringâ their Jason.
â Did you buy those cars outside? â Wow, Tim really was as skeptical as Jason had said.
â Hmhmm. â You nodded simply, as if it was nothing.
Jason's siblings raised their eyebrows and Bruce cleared his throat, and took a step forward, feet clad in fluffy slippers. He offered a hand and presented himself politely to you. You wondered how much of that was his persona and how much was just a father meeting his son's partner.
While giving them a tour of the house, the family â aside from Alfred who already knew it all â observed the details, happy memories in the form of pictures of trips, your marriage, birthdays, anniversaries, Daphne's growing stages, spontaneous moments that just deserved to be eternalized, trinkets, handmade pots, plants, Daphneâs toys, and the decor that was just a mix of you both. No guns in the walls, no corpses buried in the backyard, no blood stains. The only signals that it was their Jason living here and not a clone were the books, pictures and hidden security measures.Â
It was⌠Good. Peaceful. Clearly the change in scenario helped him. It hurt them a little, some more than others, that it took him cutting them off for him to start healing, although, maybe opening up this new side of him for them meant that it wasn't just that. And it wasn't. The fault didn't fall completely on them. Nor on Jason. And one person, you, can't be the solution for all global crisis. Mental health is complex. Trauma is complicated. Past can't be changed, but the future can.Â
That night, everyone enjoyed Jason's cooking, Daphne and the new future.
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i love you, in every time ŕżâ§â 1854 - could it be love?
chapter summary: You meet Logan, a young man who is briefly stopping by in New York City. Despite both of your better judgments, you quickly realize that perhaps there's nothing wrong with falling in love.
word count: 22.2k+
pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader
notes: ahh!! welcome to this new series! i'm very excited to start this journey with all of y'all! just a note, when i say 'character death(s)' in the warnings it means that reader is going to die at the end of every chapter. that's the entire premise of this series, which was inspired by the 11th doctor and clara (iykyk). but first, we have a lot of time to cover before we even reach the first x-men movie so strap in!
i also didn't mean for this to be as long as it is, oops
warnings/tags: fluff, angst, outdated mindsets on women, slow burn, illness, character deaths
series masterlist â chapter 2
You didnât necessarily love your job, but it was better than other options available for you. You grumbled to yourself as you walked down the sidewalk of New York City, horses neighing and wheels rattling on the brick street.
The bonnet on your head protected you from the sun beating down, keeping you from further heat in your dress. You had many things to do while you were out, get the children some new clothes and toys, buy some groceries, and buy some extra cloth for when you eventually had to sew their clothing.
As you passed by a small shop, you paused, peering in through the window. A few wooden toys sat on the shelf inside, simple and sturdy. Perfect for the boys. You pushed the door open, a little bell jingling as you entered, and you made your way toward the display.
"Can I help you, miss?" The shopkeeperâs voice startled you, but you smiled politely.
"Just looking for some toys," you replied, eyes scanning the shelves.
As you picked up a carved wooden horse, the door opened again behind you, letting in a bit of fresh air and a manâs heavy footsteps. You didnât pay it much mind until you felt a presence nearby, a little too close for comfort. You turned slightly, catching sight of a tall man with dark hair and an unshaven face, dressed in a rough shirt and worn pants, a bit out of place among the polished streets of the city.
He glanced your way, his sharp eyes catching yours for a brief moment before he looked back to the shelves.
Something about him felt differentâdangerous, but not in the way that made you want to run. More like it pulled you in, made you curious.
You turned back to the toys, but your mind kept wandering back to the stranger standing nearby. You couldnât help but glance his way again.
"Those are good for little ones," the man said, his voice rough but casual. He nodded at the toy horse in your hand. "They hold up well. Tougher than they look."
You raised an eyebrow, surprised by his sudden comment. "You have experience with them?"
His lips twitched, almost a smile. "A bit. Used to make âem myself."
You looked him over more closely now, intrigued. "You donât seem like the toy-making type."
His eyes flicked to yours, something amused in the way he looked at you. "Not anymore," he said, then turned his attention back to the shelves.
There was a silence between you for a moment, but it didnât feel awkward. If anything, it felt like he didnât mind you being there, like he was used to people drifting in and out of his space.
You finally spoke again. "I suppose these are sturdy enough for two boys, then."
"Yeah. Theyâll survive a beating."
You laughed, the sound surprising you. He gave you another look, a bit more interested this time. There was something about him that made you feel seen in a way that was different from how most men looked at you.
You gathered a few more toys, careful not to spend too much, but you couldnât resist getting something extra for the little girl you looked after. She was sweet, and it wasnât her fault she was stuck in such a strict household.
The stranger watched you with those sharp eyes, like he could see more than what was right in front of him. You wondered what his story was, but you werenât about to ask.
As you headed to the counter, he followed, though he didnât buy anything. The shopkeeper took your coins, and you gathered your parcels, still feeling the manâs presence behind you.
"Thanks for the advice," you said over your shoulder, more as a courtesy than anything else.
He nodded, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "Anytime."
With that, you left the shop, stepping back into the sunlight, the weight of your errands still on your shoulders. But as you walked away, you couldnât help but feel like something had shifted. Like maybe that wasnât the last time youâd see him.
---
Edwin and Phillip seemed to enjoy the toy you got them, already fighting over who gets to play with it first. They were the eldest, Edwin was 9, Phillip was 7, and Ada was 6. You handed her the toy you got for her, one she got to keep all to herself.
Ada's face lit up when you handed her the small, carved doll. She held it in her hands gently, like it was the most precious thing in the world.
"For me?" she asked, her voice soft with disbelief.
You smiled and nodded. "Just for you, Ada."
Her eyes sparkled, and she hugged the doll to her chest. "Thank you!"
Edwin and Phillip were already in the middle of their tug-of-war with the wooden horse, the two boys shouting over whose turn it was.
"I had it first!" Edwin argued, pulling the toy toward him.
"You always get it first!" Phillip shot back, his voice growing louder.
You sighed and stepped in, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. "Why don't you take turns? If you can't share, I'll have to take it away, and no one gets to play with it."
They both groaned but reluctantly agreed, setting the horse on the floor. Edwin was a bit of a handful, but he could be sweet when he wanted to be. Phillip, the quieter one, usually followed his brotherâs lead. At least Ada wasnât much trouble.
After helping Ada settle in with her new toy, you turned to check on the boys, making sure they hadnât already forgotten your words. But as you did, your thoughts drifted back to the man in the shop. There was something about himâsomething that lingered in your mind even now. He didnât fit in with the usual crowd you saw around here, but he didnât seem bothered by that.
It was odd, though, that someone like him would be in a toy shop of all places. You tried to shake the thought away, but it kept creeping back, a sense that your brief encounter meant more than it appeared.
Later, after the children had settled down, you found yourself with a rare quiet moment. You sat by the window, staring out at the street below, watching the people passing by. The day was winding down, the sky fading into hues of orange and pink, and yet, the manâs sharp eyes lingered in your mind.
You shook your head, scolding yourself for thinking too much about a stranger. It was just a passing momentânothing more. You had far more important things to focus on, like taking care of the children and making sure everything ran smoothly for the household. That man, whoever he was, wasnât part of your world.
But still, something in the back of your mind whispered that youâd see him again. And the thought of it didnât exactly bother you.
---
The next few days were a blur of your usual routine. The children kept you busy, and you barely had a moment to yourself. But even as you went through the motions of your daily life, you couldn't help but feel that sense of somethingâor someoneâwaiting.
It was on a brisk afternoon, a few days after your encounter at the shop, when you found yourself running errands again. The streets were busier than usual, with carriages clattering over the cobblestones and people bustling past in a hurry. You had a long list of things to pick up, and the thought of weaving through the crowded market already had you dreading the trip.
As you made your way through the streets, you spotted a familiar figure standing at the corner near a fruit stand. The man from the shop. He hadnât seen you yet, but something about the way he stood, slightly apart from the rest of the crowd, watching the passersby with a quiet intensity, made you pause.
You debated for a moment. Should you approach him? Or would it seem too forward?
Before you could decide, his gaze lifted, and he spotted you. His eyes narrowed, a flicker of recognition passing over his features, but he didnât move. He just stood there, watching you.
You took a deep breath and made your way over, your curiosity getting the better of you.
"Fancy seeing you here again," you said, trying to sound casual as you approached.
"Didnât expect to run into you either," he replied, his voice still rough, but there was a hint of something in his tone. Amusement? Interest? You couldnât quite place it.
"I was just running errands," you said, gesturing to the market behind you. "You know how it is."
He nodded, his eyes flicking over you for a moment before landing back on the crowd. "Yeah, I get it."
There was a beat of silence, but it wasnât uncomfortable. In fact, it almost felt... familiar. Like talking to him wasnât so strange after all.
"Are you from around here?" you asked, breaking the silence.
He shook his head. "Not really. Just passing through."
"Do you always pass through toy shops when you're in town?"
His lips quirked into that almost-smile again. "Only when I feel like it."
You couldnât help but chuckle. "Mysterious, arenât you?"
He shrugged, not giving much away. "Maybe."
You were about to ask him something else when a shout came from behind you. You turned to see one of the street vendors, an older man, calling out angrily at a young boy who had clearly tried to swipe an apple from his cart.
Before you could even react, the man next to you stepped forward. His movements were quick and fluid, like he was used to handling situations like this. He reached the boy before the vendor could get too close, gripping the kid by the collar.
"Hey," the man said, his voice low but firm. "Thatâs not how you do things."
The boy froze, wide-eyed, clearly not expecting to be caught so quickly.
"Put it back," the man ordered.
The boy, trembling slightly, dropped the apple back onto the cart. "Iâm sorry!" he blurted out before scurrying off into the crowd.
You watched as the man exchanged a few words with the vendor, calming him down before he turned back to you, his expression unreadable.
"You didnât have to do that," you said, surprised by how quickly he had handled the situation.
He shrugged again. "The kidâll learn his lesson. Better this way than the other options."
You looked at him, a little more curious now. He wasnât just some rough-around-the-edges stranger. There was something deeper to him, something that made you want to know more.
âI donât think I caught your name the other day,â you settled on, meeting his eyes as the energy of the crowd buzzed around you both.
He gave a small nod, like he was considering whether to answer or not. "Logan," he said simply.
"Logan," you repeated, trying the name on your tongue. It suited him, rough around the edges but solid. "Iâm Y/N."
His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he gave another slight nod, acknowledging it. The silence between you wasnât heavy, but it felt like something unspoken passed through the space. Something that told you he wasnât just another passerby in your life.
"Thanks for helping that kid back there," you said, breaking the quiet. "Not everyone would step in like that."
Logan shrugged like it was nothing, his eyes scanning the crowd again. "Not a big deal."
You tilted your head slightly, studying him. "You do that a lot? Play the hero?"
A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, barely there, but it was enough. "No. Just don't like seeing people get hurt when I can do something about it."
There was a gruffness to his words, but it didnât feel forced. It felt real. And it was clear that he wasnât the type to go around explaining himself to anyone. You liked that.
"Well, either way, it was good of you." You glanced down at the parcels in your arms, suddenly remembering the rest of your errands. "I should probably get going, before Iâm late getting back."
Logan gave you a small nod, his eyes flicking down to your parcels. "You take care."
You hesitated, a part of you not wanting to walk away just yet. But what could you say? You didnât know this man, not really, and yet you felt drawn to him in a way that was hard to explain. Maybe it was the way he carried himself, like he had been through more than he let on. Or maybe it was the quiet strength in him that made you feel oddly safe.
"Maybe Iâll see you around?" you offered, not wanting to make the goodbye feel so final.
Loganâs eyes met yours again, and for a moment, there was something softer in his gaze. "Yeah. Maybe."
With that, you gave him a small smile and turned to leave, weaving your way through the bustling street. As you walked, you couldnât help but glance back once, just to see if he was still there. He was, standing where you left him, watching you go.
---
The following days fell back into your usual routineâtaking care of the children, running errands, keeping the household in order. Yet, no matter how busy you were, your thoughts kept drifting back to Logan. Something about him lingered in your mind, and it wasnât just because he had helped out that kid. There was something deeper, something you couldnât quite shake.
You found yourself wondering if he really was just passing through, or if there was more to his story than he was letting on. You didnât know why it mattered so much, but it did.
One afternoon, as you were helping Ada tie the ribbon on her new dress, she looked up at you with her big, curious eyes.
"Y/N, are you thinking about something?" she asked innocently.
You blinked, surprised. "Why do you ask?"
"Because youâre smiling," she said, her voice soft and sweet.
You hadnât even realized. "Oh," you said, chuckling softly. "I guess I was just lost in thought."
Ada giggled, her small hands playing with the ribbon you had just tied. "You think about a lot of things."
"Thatâs because I have to keep track of all you rascals," you teased, tickling her side gently.
She squealed in delight, wriggling away from you, and you couldnât help but laugh. But as you settled back into the moment, that same thought returned, uninvited. Logan. Would you see him again?
---
It wasnât long before the answer came.
You were out in the market again, picking up some fresh bread for dinner. The smell of the bakery wafted through the air, warm and comforting. You had just handed over your coins to the baker when you felt that familiar presenceâsomething just outside the edge of your awareness, like a shadow that suddenly moved.
Turning slightly, your eyes caught sight of Logan standing near a fruit cart, his hands in his pockets, watching you. It wasnât a surprise this time, but your heart still gave a little flutter at the sight of him. You made your way over, the crowd parting as you walked.
"Logan," you greeted, a smile pulling at your lips before you could stop it.
"Y/N," he replied, nodding in acknowledgment. His expression didnât change much, but there was something almost... pleased in his eyes. Like he had expected you to come over.
"Still passing through?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.
He glanced around the busy street before answering. "Seems like Iâve been here longer than I planned."
"Any reason for that?" you asked, half-joking but also genuinely curious.
Logan looked at you for a long moment, like he was debating how much to say. Finally, he shrugged. "No reason."
You didnât believe him for a second, but you let it go. Instead, you gestured to the bread in your basket. "If youâre still around tomorrow, you should come by the park. I take the children there sometimes in the afternoons. Itâs quieter than here."
Loganâs eyes flicked to yours, considering. "Maybe I will."
You nodded, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction from his answer. It was small, but it was something.
"Well," you said, shifting the basket on your arm. "I should get back before the boys tear the house down."
Logan smirked at that, and you felt a warmth spread through you at the sight of it. He wasnât a man who smiled easily, but when he did, it felt like a reward.
"Take care," he said, his voice low and steady, and you couldnât help but notice how those words made you feel safe in a way you hadnât expected.
As you walked away, the warmth of his gaze stayed with you, lingering long after youâd turned the corner.
---
The next day, you found yourself at the park, just as you had promised. Edwin and Phillip were racing around, laughing as they chased each other, while Ada sat quietly by your side, her doll clutched in her hands.
You tried not to look around for Logan, but you couldnât help it. Every time someone passed by, your heart gave a little jump, only to settle back down when you realized it wasnât him.
Just as you were beginning to think he wouldnât show, you heard the sound of heavy footsteps approaching. You didnât need to look up to know who it was.
"Mind if I join you?" Loganâs voice was calm, but there was something in it that made you smile.
You glanced up, meeting his eyes. "Not at all."
Logan gave a nod, lowering himself onto the bench beside you. He stretched his long legs out, looking completely at ease. The sounds of the childrenâs laughter filled the air, and for a moment, you just sat in companionable silence.
âBoys giving you trouble?â he asked, his voice low and gravelly.
âThey always do,â you replied, watching as Edwin tackled Phillip to the ground. âBut I think theyâd explode if they didnât.â
Loganâs lips twitched at thatâalmost a smile. âKidsâll do that. Got too much energy.â
You tilted your head, studying him out of the corner of your eye. âYou got siblings?â
Logan paused for a second, like the question had caught him off guard. âYeah. A brother.â
You didnât press, sensing there was more to the story but knowing better than to pry. Instead, you turned your attention back to the children.
âDo you have any?â Logan asked, nodding toward the boys.
âNo,â you said, shaking your head. âI look after them for the family I work for. They keep me busy, though. Might as well be mine.â
He gave a soft grunt of acknowledgment, resting his elbows on his knees.
âAnd her?â Logan nodded toward Ada, who sat a little apart from the boys, her doll tucked protectively in her arms.
âThatâs Ada,â you said, smiling softly. âSheâs the quiet one. A little sweet thing, really.â
âSheâs got good taste,â Logan remarked, glancing at the doll in her hands.
You chuckled. âThat was the least I could do for her. Lifeâs not exactly fun in that house.â
Loganâs gaze flicked toward you, something unreadable in his expression. âIt never is.â
You frowned, catching the weight behind his words, but before you could ask what he meant, Ada wandered over to you. She gave Logan a curious glance but stayed close by your side.
âWhoâs he?â Ada whispered, gripping your sleeve.
You smiled. âThis is Logan. Heâs a friend.â
Logan gave her a small nod, and Ada, ever cautious, just stared at him with wide eyes. After a beat, she leaned in close to you and whispered, âHe looks like a bear.â
You triedâreally triedânot to laugh, but it slipped out anyway. Logan gave a low chuckle of his own, shaking his head slightly.
âSmart kid,â he murmured.
Ada, encouraged by your laughter, gave a shy smile. Then she wandered back toward the boys, apparently satisfied with Loganâs presence.
âSheâs got you figured out,â you teased, grinning.
Loganâs expression softened just a bit, and he gave a small shrug. âKids see things plain.â
You leaned back on the bench, letting yourself relax. It was strange, how easy it felt to be around him. You didnât know much about himâhardly anything, reallyâbut something about Logan made you feel like you didnât need to fill the silence with useless conversation.
âDo you ever stop moving?â you asked suddenly, curious. âYou said you were just passing through, but it seems like youâve stayed a bit longer.â
Logan didnât answer right away. He stared out at the park, his expression thoughtful.
âSometimes,â he said finally. âNot often, though.â
âThat sounds lonely.â
His jaw twitched slightly, and he turned his head to look at you. âYou get used to it.â
You held his gaze for a moment, sensing that there was more beneath the surface than he was letting on. But instead of prying, you just nodded, accepting his words for what they were.
âWell, if you ever feel like staying in one place for a bit, you know where to find me,â you said lightly.
Loganâs eyes flickered with somethingâsomething you couldnât quite nameâbut he gave a small nod, like he was filing that thought away.
âAppreciate it,â he murmured.
Before you could say more, Edwin and Phillip came barreling toward you, out of breath and covered in dirt.
âY/N! Y/N!â Edwin shouted. âPhillip said he could run faster than me, but I totally won!â
Phillip scowled, wiping mud off his cheek. âOnly because you pushed me.â
âYou pushed him?â you asked, raising an eyebrow at Edwin.
Edwin squirmed. âNot that hard.â
Logan snorted quietly, drawing both boysâ attention. They looked at him with wide, curious eyes.
âWhoâs that?â Edwin whispered loudly, leaning closer to you.
âThatâs Logan,â you said. âHeâs a friend.â
Edwin tilted his head, squinting up at Logan. âYou look tough.â
Loganâs lips twitched. âI get that a lot.â
âCan you fight?â Edwin asked eagerly, his eyes lighting up. âLikeâlike really fight?â
âEdwin!â you scolded, but Logan just gave a small chuckle.
âYeah,â Logan said. âA bit.â
âWhoa!â Edwinâs jaw dropped, clearly impressed. Phillip, more cautious, stayed quiet but kept his eyes on Logan like he was trying to figure him out.
âAlright, enough of that,â you said, gently ushering the boys away. âGo play before I make you help with dinner.â
Edwin groaned but dragged Phillip along, the two of them running back toward the trees.
You glanced at Logan, shaking your head. âYouâve got yourself some new fans, it seems.â
Logan huffed softly. âKids are alright.â
There was a pause, and then you asked quietly, âYou really do keep moving, donât you?â
Logan looked at you, his expression serious. âYeah.â
You bit your lip, unsure of what to say. There was something in his eyes that told you heâd seen more than mostâmore than you could probably imagine.
âWell,â you said softly, âif you ever get tired of running, you know where to find me.â
Logan held your gaze for a long moment, his eyes searching yours. Then, with the barest hint of a smile, he nodded.
âYeah,â he said quietly. âIâll keep that in mind.â
---
You saw Logan more often than not. Truth be told, you enjoyed his presence. He was different than the other men you had met, not as harsh, didnât look down on you, or see you as an object.
One day, while walking around the market with a small basket, filled with a few apples and some bread, you looked at a carriage, rolling along the brick road with a horse in front.
âI never learned how to ride a horse,â you said, glancing at the carriage as it rolled along the cobblestone street. The words came out before you even knew why you said them, maybe just filling the space between you and Logan.
Logan, walking beside you, gave you a sidelong glance. The faintest trace of a smirk played at the corner of his mouth. âThat right?â
You shrugged, shifting the basket in your hand. âNever had a reason to, I suppose. And itâs not exactly something you pick up living in the city.â
He made a low noise in his throat that could have been agreement. For a moment, the two of you walked in companionable silence, the sounds of the market buzzing around youâvendors calling out, the clip-clop of hooves, the soft rustle of autumn leaves underfoot.
âWouldnât take much to learn,â Logan said finally, his voice easy. âReckon youâd be good at it.â
You shot him a skeptical glance. âHow would you know?â
Logan gave a lazy shrug. âJust a guess.â
There was something in his tone, thoughâsomething soft and amused that made your cheeks warm. You glanced away, pretending to be very interested in a stall selling ribbons, though your attention kept drifting back to Logan.
âYou know how to ride, then?â you asked after a moment, keeping your tone casual.
He nodded. âYeah. Picked it up when I was a kid.â
You raised an eyebrow, curious despite yourself. âWhereâd you grow up?â
âHere and there,â he answered vaguely, though not unkindly. You got the sense that there was a lot more to the storyâthings he wasnât ready to share. And maybe things you werenât quite ready to ask about. Not yet, anyway.
âWould you teach me?â you asked on impulse, surprising even yourself.
Logan glanced over, one brow raised, and for a moment, you thought he might laugh. But he didnât. Instead, he gave a small nod, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
âSure,â he said simply.
A smile tugged at your lips before you could stop it.
âWhen?â you pressed, feeling strangely excited by the idea.
Logan thought for a moment, his gaze drifting toward the road ahead. âNext Sunday,â he decided. âThereâs a place just outside the city. I know a guy whoâs got a couple of good horses.â
You felt a flicker of doubtâafter all, you had responsibilities, and it wasnât as though you could just abandon the children for the day. But Logan must have noticed your hesitation because he gave you a reassuring look.
âBring the kids,â he offered. âThey can run wild while you learn.â
That made you laugh softly. âYou really think I can keep up with them and learn to ride a horse?â
Loganâs lips twitched. âIâll handle the boys if they get out of hand.â
You gave him a skeptical look. âYou donât know what youâre offering.â
âIâve handled worse,â Logan said with a grin that made your stomach do an odd little flip.
You opened your mouth to respond, but just then, a vendor called out, advertising fresh apples, and you were drawn toward the stall. Logan followed at a leisurely pace, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat.
You picked a couple of apples, inspecting them before adding them to your basket. As you handed a coin to the vendor, you glanced at Logan again.
âNext Sunday, then?â you asked, as if you still needed confirmation.
Logan gave a small nod. âNext Sunday.â
Something about the way he said itâcalm and certainâmade you believe it would actually happen. And for the first time in a long while, you found yourself looking forward to something.
---
The boys were already running rampant in the large field, their shouts of laughter echoing across the open space. You could see Edwin trying to race Phillip again, their legs kicking up dirt as they charged back and forth. Ada, ever the quiet one, sat nearby on a stack of hay, her doll in her lap, watching them with a little smile on her face.
You stood near the horses, feeling a flutter of nervous energy in your stomach. Logan was beside you, calm as always, holding the reins of a chestnut mare with an ease that made it all look far simpler than you knew it was. He glanced over at you, his dark eyes catching yours, and you could see the trace of a smirk tugging at his lips.
âYou sure about this?â Logan asked, nodding toward the horse.
You swallowed, staring up at the mare. âSure. How hard can it be?â
Logan gave a quiet laugh, clearly not convinced. âWeâll see.â
He held the reins steady, motioning for you to come closer. You did, taking a deep breath as you placed your hand on the saddle. The horse shifted slightly, and you jumped back a little, making Logan chuckle again.
âSheâs not gonna bite,â he said, his voice low and amused.
âI know that,â you muttered, embarrassed but trying not to show it. âI just wasnât ready.â
Logan gave a small shrug, stepping around to stand beside you. âCâmon. Foot in the stirrup. Iâll help you up.â
You hesitated for only a second before nodding. Grabbing hold of the saddle, you placed your foot in the stirrup just like heâd told you, and then you felt Loganâs hand on your waist, firm and steady. With one swift movement, he lifted you up onto the horse, and suddenly you were sitting much higher than youâd expected.
You gripped the reins tightly, your heart racing a little.
âThere,â Logan said, standing back with his arms crossed. He looked up at you, giving a small nod of approval. âNot bad.â
You glanced down at him, a bit breathless. âIâm on the horse, but that doesnât mean I can ride it.â
Logan smirked. âOne step at a time, darlinâ.â
He moved around to grab the reins, keeping his voice low and calm as he spoke to the mare, guiding her gently in a slow circle around the field. You held on, trying to keep yourself steady in the saddle. It wasnât as hard as you thought it would be, but every time the horse took a step, you felt your stomach flip a little.
Logan kept walking beside you, close enough that you could hear him, though his voice was quiet. âYouâre doinâ fine.â
âI feel ridiculous,â you muttered, glancing over at the boys to make sure they werenât watching. Of course, they were, but they seemed more interested in their own games than in you wobbling around on a horse.
âYou look fine,â Logan said, and there was something in his tone that made you glance at him sharply.
His eyes flickered up toward yours for just a moment, and you felt that familiar warmth in your cheeks again. You looked away quickly, trying to focus on staying upright.
âYouâre just sayinâ that,â you said, trying to sound casual.
Logan chuckled. âNo. If you looked ridiculous, Iâd tell you.â
The confidence in his voice made you smile despite yourself. You loosened your grip on the reins just a little, letting yourself relax. The horse moved steadily beneath you, her pace slow and even, and after a few moments, you realized it wasnât so bad after all.
âYou ready to try it on your own?â Logan asked, his voice easy.
You blinked. âYou think Iâm ready?â
âYeah.â He handed the reins over to you, stepping back a little. âJust keep her steady. Sheâs not gonna take off on you.â
You nodded, taking a deep breath and gripping the reins tightly as you urged the horse forward. She responded, moving into a gentle walk, and you felt a little thrill of pride. Logan walked beside you for a few more steps, watching, but then he stopped, folding his arms across his chest as he watched you guide the horse around the field on your own.
âYouâre a natural,â he called out, a grin tugging at his lips.
You laughed softly, feeling a bit more confident now. âI wouldnât go that far.â
As you circled back around toward him, you slowed the horse, bringing her to a stop in front of Logan. He looked up at you, his eyes warm and approving.
âTold ya,â he said. âNot so hard, is it?â
You shook your head, smiling. âNot as hard as I thought.â
Logan reached up, taking the reins from your hands. âCâmon. Letâs get you down.â
This part felt a little trickier, but Logan was there, steadying you as you swung your leg over the saddle and slid down. His hands were firm on your waist again, and for just a moment, you were standing close enough to catch the scent of leather and something elseâsomething distinctly Logan.
âThanks,â you said softly, looking up at him.
Loganâs eyes held yours for a long moment, something unreadable flickering in his gaze. Then he gave a small nod, stepping back.
âAnytime,â he said, his voice low.
Before you could say anything else, the boys came running over, breathless and wild from their playing. Edwin looked up at the horse, his eyes wide with excitement.
âCan I ride next?â he asked, practically bouncing on his toes.
You glanced at Logan, raising an eyebrow. âYou said youâd handle them if they got out of hand, remember?â
Logan sighed, giving you a wry smile. âYeah, I remember.â
He looked at Edwin, then nodded toward the horse. âAlright, kid. Letâs see what youâve got.â
As Logan helped Edwin onto the horse, you stepped back, watching with a small smile. The sun was starting to dip lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over the field, and for a moment, everything felt peaceful. You glanced at Ada, who was still sitting on the haystack, her doll in her arms, watching the scene with quiet interest.
Maybe it wasnât such a bad idea to let yourself enjoy moments like this.
As Logan guided Edwin around the field, you found yourself watching him more than the horse. There was something about the way he movedâstrong, sure, like he belonged here, like he was more comfortable in this quiet, open space than anywhere else.
And as he turned, catching your eye for just a moment, you couldnât help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, heâd found something here worth staying for.
---
âYou ever think about gettinâ outta the city?â Logan asked, his voice low. âFindinâ somewhere quieter?â
You glanced at him, a little surprised by the question. âIâve thought about it. But⌠Iâve got responsibilities.â
Logan nodded slowly, his eyes distant as he stared out at the horizon. âYeah. Responsibilities.â
The way he said it made you wonder if he was thinking about somethingâor someoneâfar away. Youâd learned quickly that Logan wasnât one to talk much about his past, and though you were curious, you didnât push.
You turned a jar of honey over in your hand, Mr. Thomas had asked you to buy them another jar while you were out. âIf I didnât have responsibilities, Iâd like to live out in a cabin, away from everything else. Sometimes things here are noisy. Iâd just like to⌠I donât know, exist without worryinâ about anything.â
Logan, standing beside you, his hands shoved in his pockets, gave a small grunt of agreement. "Sounds nice."
You glanced at him, curious. "You ever think about it? Leaving the city behind, finding a quiet spot somewhere?"
Logan paused for a moment, his gaze distant. "Yeah. Sometimes."
The simplicity of his answer hung in the air between you, and for a second, you wondered if he'd actually let himself think about settling down. It seemed unlikely, given how much he kept moving, but there was something in the way he said it, something almost wistful.
"You don't seem like the kind of guy who stays in one place for too long," you teased, shifting the basket in your hand as you handed the vendor a coin for the honey.
Logan shrugged, a small smirk playing at his lips. "Guess not."
You both fell into a comfortable silence as you continued walking through the market. The streets bustled with people, but somehow, with Logan by your side, it all felt a little less overwhelming. You didn't have to fill the quiet with pointless chatter. He wasnât like the others in the cityâconstantly rushing, looking for something to gain. He just⌠existed, like you wanted to.
As you passed by a small stall selling flowers, you slowed down, your eyes catching on a bouquet of wildflowers that reminded you of something you'd see out in the countryside. Logan noticed, his eyes following your gaze.
"You like those?" he asked, nodding toward the flowers.
You smiled softly. "Yeah. They remind me of⌠I donât know, freedom, I guess."
Logan gave a small chuckle. "Freedom, huh?"
You shrugged, suddenly feeling a little silly. "I know it sounds strange. Itâs just⌠being stuck in the city all the time, I donât get to see much of the world outside these streets."
He didnât laugh or brush it off like most people would have. Instead, Logan looked at you for a moment, his expression serious.
"Maybe one day," he said quietly, "youâll get that cabin. Find some peace."
There was something about the way he said it that made your heart skip a beat, but before you could respond, a commotion erupted a few stalls down. Edwin and Phillip came barreling toward you, laughing and out of breath, their hands full of something they clearly werenât supposed to have.
"Y/N!" Edwin shouted, holding up a small sack of apples. "Look what we got!"
You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. "And how exactly did you 'get' those?"
Phillip, ever the quieter one, shifted nervously on his feet. "We didnât steal them! Mr. Turner gave them to us after we helped him with his cart."
You glanced over to where Mr. Turner, a kind old man who often sold apples at the market, was smiling and waving in your direction.
"Alright," you said, sighing with relief. "But youâd better not be causing any trouble."
Logan chuckled under his breath, watching the boys with amusement. "Theyâre just having fun."
"Yeah, until someone gets hurt," you muttered, though you couldnât help but smile at their excitement.
Edwin, noticing Logan for the first time, grinned. "Hey, Logan! You ever been in a real fight?"
Logan smirked, glancing at you before turning back to the boys. "A couple."
Edwinâs eyes lit up. "Tell us about one!"
"Edwin," you warned, shaking your head. "Logan doesnât have time to tell you all his stories."
But Logan didnât seem to mind. He crouched down to the boysâ level, his expression serious as he spoke in that low, gravelly voice of his.
"Alright, but just one. There was this guy⌠big, tough-looking fella, thought he could take me down. We were out in the middle of nowhere, no one around for miles. He comes at me with this huge stick, thinking thatâll be enough."
Edwin and Phillip leaned in, wide-eyed, hanging on every word.
"So, what happened?" Edwin asked, barely able to contain himself.
Loganâs smirk deepened. "Letâs just say, he learned real quick not to mess with me."
The boys erupted into laughter, completely captivated by the idea of Logan taking down some big, burly guy.
You rolled your eyes, but couldnât help the smile creeping onto your face. "Youâre gonna give them ideas, you know."
Logan stood, shrugging casually. "Kids need a little excitement."
"Not too much," you muttered, though you were grateful for the way he interacted with them. Most men in the city didnât have the patience for children, especially not boys as wild as Edwin and Phillip.
As the boys ran off again, Logan glanced over at you, his expression softening just a bit.
"They look up to you," he said quietly.
You looked down, shrugging. "Theyâre good kids. Just need someone to look after them."
Logan was quiet for a moment, watching the boys as they disappeared into the crowd. Then, almost as if the thought had just occurred to him, he turned back to you.
"You ever think about having your own?" he asked, his tone surprisingly gentle.
The question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didnât know how to respond. You hadnât really thought about itânot seriously, anyway. Your life was too full of other peopleâs children, other peopleâs problems.
"I donât know," you said slowly, glancing up at him. "Maybe someday. If I ever get that cabin, I might think about it."
Logan nodded, but didnât say anything more. He just walked beside you, the two of you falling back into that easy, comfortable silence.
It wasnât until later, as you lay in bed that night, that you found yourself thinking about his question again. The idea of a quiet life, away from the noise and chaos of the city, didnât seem so impossible anymoreânot when you imagined Logan there with you.
---
One night, after you had put the boys to sleep and were in Adaâs room to read a story to her, she asked you a question. âWhy arenât you like mama and papa?â
You raised your head from the book you were reading to her, âwhat do you mean?â
Her lips formed a small pout, âmama has papa, but you donât have anyone.â
You blinked, caught off guard by Adaâs question. Her innocent curiosity made your heart ache, but you kept your voice steady.
âWell, sweetie,â you started, trying to find the right words, âsometimes, people are just on their own for a little while. It doesnât mean they wonât find someone. Maybe they just havenât yet.â
Ada considered this, her small brow furrowed in thought. âBut youâre so nice. Why doesnât anyone love you?â
The simplicity of the question stung more than it should have. You chuckled softly, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. âItâs not that simple, Ada. But thank you for saying that.â
She didnât seem satisfied with your answer, her tiny face still scrunched up in confusion. âDonât you get lonely?â
You hesitated, glancing out the window at the darkening sky. The truth was, sometimes you did. Even though you were surrounded by peopleâtaking care of the children, managing the houseâyou couldnât deny that feeling creeping in every now and then.
âI have you, donât I?â you finally said, smiling down at her. âAnd Edwin and Phillip. You three keep me pretty busy.â
Ada giggled softly at that, settling into her blankets. âI guess. But I think you should find someone, like mama did.â
You gave her a light kiss on the forehead, smoothing down her hair. âMaybe one day, kiddo.â
Ada yawned, her eyes drooping as sleep crept up on her. âGoodnight, Y/N.â
âGoodnight, Ada,â you whispered, watching her drift off. You stayed there for a moment longer, thinking about her words, before quietly slipping out of the room.
The house was silent as you made your way down the hall, but your mind was anything but. Her innocent question stirred something inside of you, a longing that you hadnât let yourself fully acknowledge. It wasnât like you to dwell on what you didnât have, but maybe⌠maybe Ada was right. Maybe there was something missing.
But it wasnât something you could focus on right now. You had responsibilities. This family depended on you, and that was enough for now. At least, thatâs what you kept telling yourself.
As you reached your room and closed the door behind you, you caught sight of the bouquet of wildflowers Logan had quietly bought earlier in the day. You hadnât noticed him purchase them at the market, but when you returned to the house, they were there on the doorstep, a small note attached that simply read, Thought youâd like these.
You smiled to yourself, gently picking up the flowers and placing them in a vase by the window. You hadnât thought much about having someone of your own, but as you looked at the flowers, you couldnât help but wonder what it might be like.
And, for the first time in a long while, the idea didnât seem so far away.
---
The next few days passed quietly, with Logan visiting you at the market more frequently, though neither of you mentioned the wildflowers. There was an unspoken understanding between youâneither of you rushed things, but the connection was undeniably growing.
One afternoon, as you sat outside with Ada on your lap, reading her a story, Logan appeared at the gate. The children spotted him first, of course, and Edwin ran over, grinning ear to ear.
âLogan! Youâre back!â he shouted, tugging at Loganâs coat. âDid you bring us any stories?â
Logan gave a soft grunt, glancing over at you with a smirk. âI might have one or two left.â
You shook your head, amused. âTheyâll never leave you alone if you keep telling them stories, you know.â
Logan crouched down, ruffling Edwinâs hair. âI donât mind,â he said, his gaze softening as he glanced at Ada in your lap. âHowâre you doinâ, kid?â
Ada looked up from the book and smiled shyly, giving him a small wave. âHi, Logan.â
He smiled, the sight of the children always easing something in him, though he didnât let it show too much.
As the kids ran off to play, Logan took a seat beside you on the bench. The two of you sat in silence for a while, watching the children chase each other across the yard.
âTheyâre good kids,â Logan said finally, breaking the quiet.
âThey are,â you agreed. âTheyâve got a lot of love to give, and not always enough people around to give it to.â
Logan turned his head slightly, his eyes studying you. âThat include you?â
You looked down, fidgeting with your skirt. âMaybe. I spend so much time looking after everyone else, sometimes I forget thereâs more to life than just⌠this.â
Logan didnât say anything at first, just watched you quietly. Then, his voice low, he asked, âYou ever think about finding something more?â
You turned to him, surprised by the question. âI donât know if Iâve let myself think that far ahead,â you admitted, your heart beating a little faster under his gaze.
Logan looked away, his jaw tightening slightly as if he was holding something back. âMaybe you should.â
The weight of his words lingered in the air between you, and for the first time, you felt a pullâa possibility of something beyond the life youâd built here. Something you hadnât allowed yourself to dream about until now.
But before either of you could say more, the childrenâs laughter echoed through the yard, and the moment passed. Still, the feeling stayed with you long after Logan left that evening.
---
The sky had taken on that soft orange hue of evening, the kind that made the whole world feel suspended between day and night. You and Logan walked side by side along the Hudson River, the sound of water gently lapping against the shore mixing with the distant hum of the city. It had become your routine over the past few weeks, these evening walksâquiet, almost intimate, even though neither of you said much.
Today, though, something felt different. Logan had been quieter than usual, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his usual gruff demeanor softened by the fading sunlight. Every now and then, youâd catch him glancing at you from the corner of his eye, as if there was something he wanted to say but couldnât find the words.
âYou alright?â you asked, your voice cutting through the comfortable silence.
Logan nodded, though his expression didnât quite match the motion. âYeah, just⌠thinkinâ.â
âAbout?â
He stopped walking, turning to face the river. You followed his gaze, watching the way the sunâs reflection danced on the surface of the water. After a long moment, he spoke.
âIâve never really⌠had this before,â he said, his voice low, almost hesitant. âYâknow, just⌠beinâ with someone like this. Feels kinda strange.â
You smiled softly, stepping closer to him, close enough that your arm brushed against his. âStrange in a good way?â
Logan let out a short, almost nervous chuckle. âYeah. In a good way.â
The two of you stood there, side by side, watching the sun dip lower in the sky. You could feel the warmth of his presence, his arm just barely touching yours, and it sent a small thrill through you. You hadnât been sure at first if what you felt for Logan was mutualâhe was quiet, reserved, hard to readâbut moments like this, when the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you, made it clear. There was something unspoken between you, something neither of you had dared to put into words.
After a while, you turned to face him, studying the way his brow was furrowed, like he was deep in thought.
âLogan,â you said softly.
He looked at you then, really looked at you, his hazel eyes meeting yours with a kind of intensity that made your heart skip a beat. For a moment, neither of you moved, the air thick with something unsaid.
Before you could second-guess yourself, you reached out and took his hand, your fingers slipping into his. Logan stiffened at the touch, his eyes flicking down to where your hands were joined, but he didnât pull away. If anything, he stepped closer, his fingers curling around yours, holding on a little tighter.
âI donât think Iâve ever felt this way before either,â you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.
Loganâs gaze softened, his usual guarded expression cracking just enough to let something more vulnerable show through. He hesitated, like he was trying to find the right words, but then decided words werenât necessary.
Instead, he took a small step forward, his free hand coming up to gently cup the side of your face. His touch was warm, rough, but there was a surprising tenderness in the way his thumb brushed lightly against your cheek. You held your breath, your heart pounding in your chest as he leaned in, his eyes flicking between yours as if asking for permission.
When you didnât pull away, he closed the distance.
The kiss was soft, almost tentative at first, like he was testing the waters. But the second your lips met his, something inside you seemed to melt, and you leaned into him, deepening the kiss. Logan responded in kind, his grip on your hand tightening as he pulled you closer, the space between you disappearing entirely.
For a moment, it was just the two of youâthe sound of the river fading away, the world narrowing down to the warmth of Loganâs lips against yours, the feel of his hand cradling your face like you were something precious.
When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathing a little heavier, your foreheads resting against each other as you stood there, wrapped in the soft glow of the setting sun.
Loganâs eyes fluttered open, and he gave you a small, almost sheepish smile. âDidnât think Iâd be kissinâ you tonight.â
You laughed softly, still a little breathless. âNeither did I.â
He pulled you closer, resting his chin on top of your head as he held you against him. The two of you stood there in the fading light, wrapped up in each other, the world beyond the river momentarily forgotten.
---
Logan thought back to your conversation about living in a cabin more than he cared to admit. The thought of it seemed nice, peaceful, and dare he say it perfect.
After a few weeks of being together, Logan had made a decision and scrounged up any money he could before buying a modest ring from a jeweler. He wasnât going to propose yet but carrying the ring in his pocket felt right.
He had been coming over to the Thomasesâ sprawling estate more often, whether it was walking with you from the market to the large house or even just stopping by of his own will. At first, it had been an occasional thingâa quiet visit here, a quick walk thereâbut lately, Logan found himself looking for excuses just to be around. You didnât seem to mind. In fact, the way your eyes lit up when you saw him made him feel something unfamiliar, something good.
One late afternoon, Logan leaned against the garden gate, watching as you knelt by a row of flowers, tending to them with your usual care. He couldnât help but admire the sightâyour sleeves rolled up, hair slightly tousled from the breeze, a small smile on your lips as you worked. It made something in his chest tighten. He fingered the ring in his pocket, feeling its weight. He had no plan to use it anytime soon, but carrying it felt right, like a promise to himself.
You glanced up, catching his eye, and smiled, wiping your hands on your apron as you stood. "Back again, Logan?"
"Guess so," he replied, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Thought you might need a hand."
"Well, I could always use one," you teased, stepping closer to him. "But you donât strike me as the gardening type."
Logan chuckled, reaching out to take your hand, pulling you a little closer. "Not much of a gardener, no. But I can stand here and look good while you do all the work."
You rolled your eyes playfully but didnât let go of his hand. The easy banter between you had become natural, and the affection between you had grown, unspoken but undeniable. After a moment, you tugged him toward a bench under a nearby tree.
âSit with me for a minute,â you said softly. âIâve been out here all day.â
He followed, sitting beside you as the evening breeze rustled the leaves above. The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching the shadows lengthen as the sun began to set. Logan glanced at you from the corner of his eye, the warm light catching the curve of your face.
âYou ever think this is enough?â he asked suddenly, his voice quiet but clear.
You looked over at him, eyebrows raised. âWhat do you mean?â
Logan hesitated, his fingers still laced with yours. âJust⌠this. Beinâ together. Doesnât need to be more complicated than that.â
You smiled softly, leaning your head against his shoulder. âI think it is enough,â you said after a moment. âI like this, Logan. I like us.â
His heart beat a little faster at your words, and without thinking, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. It wasnât a big gesture, but it felt natural, like something heâd been wanting to do for a while. You tilted your head up, meeting his eyes, your lips curving into a gentle smile.
âYou keep that up, and Iâm never gonna let you go,â you teased, though there was something softer, almost serious, in your tone.
Logan smirked, pulling you closer until your legs brushed against his. âDonât see a reason to.â
Your fingers traced absent patterns on the back of his hand, your touch light and thoughtful. âYou know, I used to wonder if Iâd ever feel this way about someone,â you admitted softly, your eyes focused on your hands. âIf Iâd ever meet someone who made me feel⌠like this.â
Logan was quiet for a moment, watching you, feeling the warmth of your words settle deep inside him. Heâd never thought heâd find someone who made him feel like this eitherâlike he didnât have to keep moving, like maybe heâd found something worth staying for. He wanted to tell you that, to say what he was feeling, but the words stuck in his throat. So instead, he squeezed your hand, hoping youâd understand what he couldnât say yet.
You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. The connection between you, the pull, was undeniable. Logan leaned in, his hand slipping to the back of your neck as he pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was slow, tender, like both of you were taking your time, savoring the moment. When you pulled back, your forehead rested against his, and for a second, the world outside the garden didnât exist.
âI could stay like this forever,â you whispered, your breath warm against his lips.
Loganâs hand tightened on yours. âMaybe we will,â he murmured back, the words slipping out before he could stop them.
You smiled, your eyes soft as you leaned in and kissed him again, slow and sweet. When you pulled back this time, you didnât say anything, just settled into his side, your head resting against his chest as the two of you watched the sky shift into shades of pink and orange.
The world outside may have been complicated, full of responsibilities and noise, but here, with Logan beside you, it felt simple. Peaceful. Like this was all that mattered.
---
One late afternoon, you were sitting on the porch with Ada and the boys, telling them stories while they played at your feet. Logan leaned against the fence, watching you from a distance, his heart swelling at the sight of you surrounded by the children, laughing and carefree.
âYou look like youâre thinkinâ about somethinâ serious,â your voice cut through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. You stood up, walking over to him, a teasing smile on your face.
Logan shrugged, trying to play it off. âJust thinkinâ about how you handle those kids like itâs nothinâ.â
You laughed, rolling your eyes. âTrust me, itâs something. Theyâre a handful.â
Logan smiled, reaching out to take your hand. âYouâre good at it. I like watchinâ you with them.â
Your cheeks flushed slightly at his compliment, and you glanced down, trying to hide the small smile playing at your lips. âWell, youâre not so bad with them yourself. Edwin wonât stop talking about that story you told him.â
Logan chuckled, shaking his head. âKidâs got a wild imagination.â
You leaned in closer, your fingers playing with the hem of his sleeve. âMaybe he gets that from you.â
He smirked, slipping his arm around your waist and pulling you into him. âThink so?â
âI know so,â you whispered, your breath brushing against his neck.
For a moment, the world around you seemed to fade away, and it was just the two of you, standing in the soft glow of the afternoon sun. Loganâs hand slid up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin before he leaned down and kissed you, slow and deliberate, like he was memorizing the feel of your lips against his.
When he pulled back, your eyes were half-closed, your expression soft and content. âLogan,â you whispered, your voice barely audible. âWhat are we doing?â
He looked at you, his thumb still tracing soft circles on your cheek. âDoinâ what feels right.â
You smiled, resting your forehead against his. âYeah. It does feel right.â
The sound of the childrenâs laughter broke the quiet moment between you, and you both turned to see Ada running toward you, her little legs carrying her as fast as they could. âY/N! Y/N!â she shouted, her face flushed with excitement. âCome play with us!â
You laughed, pulling away from Logan just enough to crouch down and catch Ada in your arms. âAlright, alright! Iâm coming.â
As you stood, you glanced back at Logan, your eyes lingering on him for a moment longer. He gave you a small nod, his lips quirking into a smile, and you turned back to the children, running off with them into the yard.
Logan watched you for a while longer, his hand slipping into his pocket where the small ring rested. It wasnât time yet, but someday, maybe heâd ask. Someday, when the moment was right.
For now, this was enough.
And for the first time in his life, that was all Logan wanted.
---
âMrs. Thomas is sick. She wanted me to pick up some things for her before the doctor comes to check her out,â you explained, adding a sprig of thyme to your basket and handing the vendor a coin.
Logan stood beside you, hands stuffed in his pockets, watching you with a casual ease that had become second nature to him. âWhatâs wrong with her?â he asked, though his tone wasnât heavyâjust curious.
You shrugged, brushing a strand of hair from your face. âProbably just a cold. Sheâs been coughing a bit, but Mr. Thomas thinks sheâll be fine.â
Loganâs jaw ticked slightly, his eyes following the movement of your hand as it tucked the hair behind your ear. âYou sure you should be around her if sheâs sick?â
You smiled at his concern, nudging him lightly with your elbow. âItâs part of the job, Logan. Besides, Iâve been with her every day. If I was going to get sick, it wouldâve happened by now.â
He frowned, not entirely convinced, but let it drop. You were stubborn like thatâalways brushing things off when they concerned you.
As you moved from stall to stall, picking out fresh herbs, bread, and tea, Logan trailed beside you, a silent presence at your side. It was comfortableânatural, even. You could feel him close, his arm brushing yours now and then, and though neither of you said much, it was the kind of quiet that felt good.
When you handed the grocer a coin for a small loaf of bread, Loganâs voice broke the easy silence. âYou want me to walk you back?â
You glanced up at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. âTrying to sneak more time with me?â
Logan grinned, his hands still tucked in his coat pockets. âMaybe.â
Your laugh was soft and warm, and Logan swore it was one of his favorite sounds.
âYou donât have to, but I wonât say no if you want to,â you teased, shifting the basket on your hip. âThe Thomases live all the way across town, though.â
Logan rolled his shoulders in a lazy shrug. âDonât mind.â
With that settled, the two of you set off toward the Thomasesâ estate, falling into step beside each other. The streets bustled with the usual afternoon crowdsâvendors hawking their goods, carts rattling down cobbled roads, children darting through the streets. Yet somehow, it felt like the two of you existed in your own little world, insulated from the noise of the city.
âYou been working much?â you asked after a moment, glancing sideways at him.
Logan nodded. âYeah. Couple of odd jobs here and there.â
âSame ones?â
âMostly.â He paused, as if debating whether to say more. Then, with a smirk, he added, âNot much call for a guy like me whoâs no good with flowers.â
You laughed, the sound light and easy. âWell, Iâm sure someone will take pity on you eventually.â
He bumped his shoulder against yours gently. âYou already did.â
You rolled your eyes, but the smile stayed on your face. âLucky you.â
The walk was long, but neither of you minded. You pointed out things along the wayâshops you liked, shortcuts youâd found, little bits of the city youâd come to know well in your time working for the Thomases. Logan listened, his attention fixed on you, and though he didnât say much, you could tell he was soaking up every word.
When the two of you reached the tall iron gates of the Thomases' estate, you hesitated, lingering just a bit longer with Logan at the edge of the garden.
âThanks for walking me,â you said softly, your fingers brushing over his for the briefest second.
âAnytime,â he murmured, catching your hand before you could pull it away. He gave it a squeeze, his eyes lingering on yours. âYou alright?â
You nodded. âIâm fine, Logan. Just worried about Mrs. Thomas, I guess.â
He studied you for a beat longer, his thumb absentmindedly brushing the back of your hand. âYouâll let me know if you need anything, yeah?â
You gave him a small smile, squeezing his hand in return. âYeah. I will.â
Neither of you moved at first, as if caught in a moment you werenât quite ready to let go of. Loganâs gaze flickered to your lips, and for a second, you thought he might kiss youâright there at the gate, with the late afternoon sun warming your skin and the scent of lavender drifting from the garden.
But instead, he leaned in and pressed a slow kiss to your temple, his lips lingering just long enough to leave you breathless.
âSee you soon,â he murmured against your skin.
You swallowed, your heart thudding in your chest. âSee you soon,â you whispered back.
Logan stepped away, his hands reluctantly slipping from yours, and you watched as he made his way back down the path. He didnât look back, but somehow, you knew that he felt the same pull you didâthe one that always seemed to draw you closer, no matter how far apart you were.
With a soft sigh, you turned and pushed open the gate, your basket swinging gently at your side as you made your way toward the house. The sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the neatly trimmed lawn.
You didnât know it yet, but the weight of that momentâof Loganâs hand in yours, of the way his kiss had felt against your skinâwould stay with you. It would become one of those memories youâd carry in the quiet hours, long after everything had changed.
But for now, it was just another afternoon. And that was enough.
You slipped inside the Thomasesâ estate, greeted by the familiar smell of baked bread and lavender from the garden. The childrenâs laughter echoed faintly from upstairs, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the unease you felt about Mrs. Thomas.
As you moved through the grand hallway, the weight of Loganâs lingering kiss on your temple stayed with you, soft and comforting. His presence, though absent now, always seemed to cling to the air around you like the warmth of a hearth after a long day.
âY/N!â Edwinâs voice called from the top of the stairs. You looked up to find him peering down at you, his unruly curls falling into his eyes. âCan we go to the park after tea? Phillip says he can run faster than me, but I bet Iâll beat him this time.â
You smiled up at him, though your thoughts were still on Mrs. Thomas. âWeâll see about that, Edwin. But letâs check in on your mother first, alright?â
He nodded, though his face fell a little, understanding the importance of that moment.
Making your way to Mrs. Thomasâs room, you found the air heavier, a staleness clinging to it that made you pause at the door. You knocked softly before entering, the creak of the door barely disturbing the quiet. Mrs. Thomas lay in bed, propped up by pillows, her face pale and drawn. Her once vibrant eyes were duller now, and the small cough you had heard earlier seemed more persistent, rattling in her chest.
âMrs. Thomas,â you said gently, approaching her bedside with the basket of fresh supplies. âIâve brought some thyme and tea. The doctor will be here later this week.â
Mrs. Thomas offered a faint smile, though it barely touched her lips. âThank you, dear. Youâre always so thoughtful,â she said, her voice raspy. She shifted slightly, wincing at the effort it took. âIâm sure itâs just a little cold.â
You forced a smile, though something inside you tugged with worry. âOf course. Just a little cold.â
After a few more moments, you excused yourself, promising to return later. The house felt stifling, the sense of something being wrong making your chest tighten. Logan had been right to be concerned. But you brushed it aside, focusing on the children.
A few hours later, after Edwin had indeed beaten Phillip in a race through the park, and Ada had insisted on collecting wildflowers for her mother, the three children were settled with tea. You were cleaning up the kitchen when a familiar knock came at the back door.
Opening it, you found Logan leaning against the frame, that easy smile already softening the tension in your shoulders.
âThought you might like some company,â he said, stepping inside and pulling you into a gentle embrace. The warmth of his arms around you instantly melted away the weight of the afternoon, and for a moment, you simply leaned into him, breathing him in.
âGood timing,â you murmured into his chest. âThe kids are winding down for the night. Edwinâs convinced heâs going to be the fastest man in the world.â
Logan chuckled, his chest vibrating against your cheek. âIs that so? Guess Iâll have to challenge him one day.â
You smiled, pulling back slightly to look up at him. âHeâd love that.â
There was a beat of quiet as Loganâs hand came up to brush a stray hair from your face, his thumb lingering just under your jaw. His gaze softened, searching yours for something. It was moments like thisâsmall, tenderâthat reminded you just how much youâd come to care for him in these past few weeks.
âYou alright?â he asked, voice low.
You hesitated, then nodded. âJust⌠worried about Mrs. Thomas. I donât know, Logan, she seems worse than sheâs letting on.â
Loganâs brow furrowed, his hands slipping down to rest on your waist. âSheâs tough, right? Sheâll pull through.â
You nodded again, though the doubt lingered. âI hope so.â
Logan leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours, the weight of his presence anchoring you. âYouâll let me know if you need anything?â
âI will,â you whispered, your hands resting on his chest.
He pulled back just enough to catch your lips in a slow, gentle kiss. It was familiar, the way his mouth moved against yoursâsteady, comforting, with that undercurrent of longing that always seemed to simmer just beneath the surface between you two. When you finally parted, his thumb brushed your cheek, his gaze still locked on yours.
âI hate leaving you here,â he murmured, the frustration clear in his voice. âEspecially with her sick.â
You smiled softly, shaking your head. âIâll be fine, Logan. Go home, get some rest.â
He gave a small grunt, clearly not thrilled with the idea of leaving, but he knew better than to argue when you got like thisâdetermined and stubborn.
With a sigh, he leaned in once more, pressing a final kiss to your forehead before stepping back. âAlright. But Iâm checking in tomorrow, whether you like it or not.â
âI wouldnât expect anything less,â you teased, though the warmth in your chest grew at his protectiveness.
Logan gave you one last smile before turning to head back out into the night, his coat swaying as he disappeared into the shadows. You watched him go, the familiar tug in your chest pulling at you again, but this time it wasnât just affection. It was worryâa gnawing sense of unease that had been creeping in since that afternoon in the market.
You stood there at the back door for a moment longer, staring into the empty street, wondering if Logan could feel it tooâthe quiet, unspoken fear that something was about to change.
---
The next few days passed quietly, the routine of the Thomasesâ household carrying on as usualâthough the coughs from Mrs. Thomasâs room seemed to grow more frequent, more strained. You tried not to think too much of it, telling yourself it was only a cold, that the doctor would sort it out when he came to visit. But there was a part of you, small but insistent, that couldnât shake the unease gnawing at your thoughts.
The children kept you busy, of course. Edwin was endlessly energetic, challenging Phillip to races and daring Ada to climb the low trees in the garden, much to your chagrin. Ada, sweet and delicate, clung to your side like a shadow, her small hand often finding yours as she babbled on about her imaginary tea parties and grand adventures. In their presence, it was easy to forget the worry in the back of your mindâat least for a little while.
But then, in the quiet momentsâlike when you helped Mrs. Thomas to her bed after one of her coughing fits, or when the house seemed far too still after the children had fallen asleepâyour thoughts would drift back to Logan. To the way he had kissed your forehead that day at the back door, how his hand had lingered in yours just a second longer than usual, as if heâd sensed it too. That something was wrong.
You found yourself waiting for him. Every evening, as the sun dipped low over the city and the shadows lengthened in the streets, you listened for that familiar knock at the back door. And every evening, without fail, he would comeânever too late, never too early, always arriving when you needed him most.
Tonight was no different.
You were sitting at the small table in the kitchen, a pot of tea cooling beside you, when the soft knock came. A smile tugged at your lips before you could stop it, your heart lifting in that familiar way as you crossed the room and opened the door.
Logan stood there, his dark hair slightly tousled from the evening breeze, his expression soft but watchful. He gave you that crooked smile that always seemed to make everything feel lighter, as if the world wasnât such a heavy place when he was around.
âThought I might find you here,â he said, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.
You shrugged, the smile still playing on your lips. âWhere else would I be?â
He chuckled, moving to lean against the counter, his eyes flicking briefly to the teapot on the table. âYou drinking alone?â
âFor now,â you teased, pouring him a cup. âBut I suppose I can share.â
Logan took the cup from you, his fingers brushing yours in that familiar way, sending a small, warm spark through your skin. He didnât move to sit, though. Instead, he stayed close, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than usual, as if trying to read something in your face.
âWhat?â you asked softly, the weight of his stare making your heart flutter.
âJust checking in,â he said, his voice lower, more serious than before. âYou look tired.â
You gave a small, weary laugh, shaking your head. âIâm fine, Logan. Just a lot on my mind.â
âMrs. Thomas?â he guessed, sipping his tea.
You nodded, glancing at the floor. âSheâs getting worse. Iâm trying not to worry, but⌠I donât know, something doesnât feel right.â
Loganâs brow furrowed, and he set his cup down, moving to stand beside you. His hand came up to rest on your shoulder, his thumb brushing lightly against the fabric of your sleeve. âIf you need me to do anythingâget more medicine, fetch the doctor soonerâyou just say the word.â
You met his gaze, your chest tightening at the concern etched into his face. He always made you feel safe, even when you didnât want to admit how scared you were. You reached up, covering his hand with yours, squeezing it gently.
âI know,â you murmured. âThank you.â
For a moment, the room was quiet again, the sounds of the city muted by the walls of the house. You could hear the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth, the distant hum of life outside, but here, in this small space, it felt like it was just the two of you. Just the two of you, and the warmth of his hand on your shoulder.
Logan shifted slightly, turning to face you more fully, his other hand coming to rest at your waist. He tugged you closer, his expression softening as he leaned in, his lips brushing your forehead in that tender way that always made your heart skip. But this time, he didnât stop there. He tilted your chin up gently, his gaze flicking briefly to your lips before meeting your eyes again.
âCâmere,â he whispered, and you didnât need any more coaxing.
Your arms slid up around his neck, pulling him in as his lips met yours in a slow, deliberate kiss. It was soft at first, tender, but there was a quiet intensity behind it, a sense of urgency you hadnât felt before. Maybe it was the weight of the unspoken worry hanging between you, or maybe it was just that every time you kissed him, it felt like it could be the last. Either way, you melted into him, savoring the warmth of his mouth against yours, the way his hands tightened around your waist as if he didnât want to let you go.
When you finally pulled back, your breath mingling with his, Logan rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as he let out a long, slow sigh.
âStay with me tonight,â you whispered, your voice barely audible. You hadnât meant to say it, but the words tumbled out before you could stop them. The thought of being alone with your worries, of facing the uncertainty of Mrs. Thomasâs illness by yourself, suddenly felt unbearable.
Loganâs eyes opened, his gaze soft but searching as he studied your face. âYou sure?â
You nodded, your hands still resting at the nape of his neck. âI just⌠I donât want to be alone.â
He didnât hesitate after that. With a soft, reassuring smile, he nodded and pressed another kiss to your temple. âAlright. Iâm here.â
---
The doctor had come by some days later bringing by news, Mrs. Thomas had tuberculosis. He gave her at least another month to live.
Mr. Thomas had instructed you to not let the kids near her as often, to make sure they donât get sick. He didnât seem to care much about Logan spending the night with you, or letting the kids be around him.
Logan had been spending more nights with you, by your request. It wasnât something you talked about, just a quiet understanding between the two of you. The nights felt warmer with him beside you, the weight of the world a little lighter when you could lean against him. He never made a big deal out of it either. It was just...natural.
Tonight was no different. You sat by the fire in the small parlor, the children long since asleep upstairs. The flicker of the flames cast shadows across the room, and you caught yourself glancing toward the door, waiting for that familiar knock.
When it came, it was soft, almost hesitant. But you smiled, already rising to your feet to let him in. Logan stepped inside, brushing off the chill of the night as he shook the snow from his coat.
âSnowâs picking up out there,â he muttered, shrugging off the heavy coat and hanging it by the door. âThought Iâd get here before it got too bad.â
You nodded, wrapping your arms around yourself as you watched him. âIâm glad you did.â
He crossed the room, and without another word, his arms wrapped around you. You melted into his chest, resting your head against him as the fire crackled in the hearth. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his hand running down your back.
âYou alright?â he asked quietly, his voice low. âYouâve been quiet lately.â
You sighed, pulling back just enough to look up at him. âIâm fine. Just tired. Itâs⌠everything with Mrs. Thomas, the kids⌠Iâm trying to keep it together.â
Logan frowned, his hands tightening slightly on your waist. âYou donât have to do it all yourself. You know that, right?â
âI know,â you said softly. âBut I feel like I have to.â
âYou donât,â he repeated, his eyes searching yours. âIâm here.â
That simple statement hit you harder than you expected. You leaned up, pressing your lips to his in a soft, lingering kiss. He responded instantly, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, deepening the kiss as if he needed it as much as you did. It was slow and tender, and you found yourself pulling him closer, trying to forget the weight of everything else, if only for a moment.
When you finally pulled back, Logan rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your lips.
âYou should sleep,â he whispered. âYouâre exhausted.â
âWill you stay?â you asked, your voice small.
âAlways,â he said without hesitation.
---
The nights blurred together. Logan was there more often than not, sometimes waiting for you when you finished putting the children to bed, other times arriving late after a day spent working. You hadnât asked where he went during the day, and he hadnât volunteered the information. It didnât matter. When he was with you, everything else seemed to fade into the background.
The children, especially Ada, had continued asking why she couldnât see her mother as often. It had broke your heart to tell her and the boys that their mom was sick, not going any further than that.
âTheyâll understand one day,â Logan had said, trying to comfort you as you sat by the fire one evening. His arm was around your shoulders, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm.
You nodded, but the heaviness in your chest wouldnât lift.
âI just want to help,â you murmured. âBut I canât.â
Logan was silent for a moment before he spoke again, his voice low. âYouâre doing more than you think, Y/N. Just being here for the kids, for her... it matters.â
You looked up at him, your eyes searching his. There was something in the way he looked at you, something deeper than the usual concern. It was a look that made your heart skip, that made you realize just how much he had become a part of your life in such a short time.
He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before brushing his lips against yours in a slow, gentle kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, needing that connection, needing him.
When you finally pulled back, you rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Loganâs hand slid up to cradle the back of your head, his touch soothing.
âIâm here,â he whispered again, as if the words alone could make everything right.
And for a moment, they did.
---
You could tell that after a month and a half, Mrs. Thomas didnât have much time left. Maybe a week at the most. She was so young, barely 30 years old, and already having to face the inevitable. Her coughing had become more violent, her body thinner with each passing day, and the sparkle in her eyes was gone. She was fading right before your eyes.
It had been a long day. The kids were more restless than usual, likely sensing the shift in the household. Youâd spent most of the afternoon calming Edwin and Ada while trying to keep Phillip out of trouble. Ada, in particular, had been clingy, holding onto your skirt as you moved about the house, asking you why her mother wasnât coming out of her room anymore.
You gave her the same answer as always. âYour mamaâs just resting, sweetheart.â
But even she seemed to sense something was off.
By the time the sun had started to set, you felt the exhaustion in your bones. You barely touched your dinner, pushing food around your plate before giving up entirely. It wasnât just the physical tiredness, though. It was something deeper. A strange ache in your chest, one you couldnât quite explain. Maybe it was the weight of everythingâMrs. Thomasâs worsening condition, the children, Logan...
You hadnât seen him tonight, and that small part of you that had grown used to his presence felt the void acutely. He had a way of grounding you, of making everything seem less overwhelming, if only for a little while. You didnât want to admit it, but you were beginning to rely on him more and more.
As you climbed the stairs to check on the children, your steps felt heavier than usual. Fatigue, you told yourself. Just fatigue.
When you entered Mrs. Thomasâs room to help her settle for the night, she gave you a weak smile. âThank you, Y/N... for everything.â
You smiled back, brushing her hair away from her face as you helped her lie down. âDonât mention it. You just rest.â
Her breathing was shallow, the sound rattling in her chest. You tried not to let it show on your face, but inside, that gnawing worry had grown into a full-fledged fear. You knew the end was coming soon. You just hoped the children wouldnât have to watch her fade.
---
Later that night, after the house had fallen quiet and the children were asleep, you sat by the small fire in the kitchen. You stared at the flickering flames, trying to let the warmth chase away the chill in your bones, but it wasnât working.
You werenât surprised when you heard the soft knock at the back door. Loganâs timing had always been impeccable, showing up when you needed him most, even if you hadnât called for him. You rose from your seat and opened the door, letting him in with a small, tired smile.
âCold out there,â he muttered, brushing the snow from his shoulders before stepping inside. He took one look at your face, and his brows furrowed. âYou look exhausted, Y/N.â
You waved him off, shutting the door behind him. âItâs been a long day. Mrs. Thomas is...â
He didnât need you to finish. Heâd been coming by enough to know how bad things had gotten.
Logan crossed the small space between you and placed a hand on your arm. âYou should be resting too. Whenâs the last time you got a full nightâs sleep?â
You let out a tired laugh, shaking your head. âWhat is that again?â
âY/N,â he said, his tone a mix of teasing and concern. âYou canât keep running yourself ragged. Youâre no good to the kids if you get sick.â
His words hit a little too close to home. That lingering ache in your chest hadnât gone away, and now, with him standing so close, it seemed to press harder, making it difficult to breathe. You ignored it, trying to focus on his warm hand still resting on your arm, grounding you.
âIâll be fine,â you said quietly, leaning against him just slightly. âI just... I need you here. Thatâs all.â
Loganâs expression softened, and he slipped his arms around you, pulling you close. You rested your head against his chest, closing your eyes as his warmth enveloped you. It felt like everything else faded away when you were in his armsâlike the weight of the world wasnât quite so heavy.
âIâm here,â he murmured into your hair, his voice low. âIâm not going anywhere.â
You stayed like that for a moment, just holding onto him, letting his presence soothe the anxiety that had been gnawing at you all day. His hands ran up and down your back in slow, soothing motions, and you found yourself relaxing, your shoulders sagging as the tension melted away.
But that ache in your chest didnât fade. If anything, it seemed to settle deeper, a dull, persistent throb that you couldnât quite shake.
âI donât know how much longer she has,â you whispered, your voice barely audible. âMaybe a week. And the kids... I donât know how to explain it to them.â
Logan sighed, his breath warm against your hair. âYouâll find the right words when the time comes. You always do.â
You werenât sure about that, but you didnât argue. Instead, you pulled back just enough to look up at him, your hands still resting against his chest. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, you could see the same worry you felt reflected in his gaze. But there was something else tooâsomething softer, something that made your heart skip a beat.
Before you could say anything, Logan leaned down, pressing his lips to yours in a slow, tender kiss. It wasnât rushed or urgentâjust gentle, like he was trying to tell you without words that he was there, that you didnât have to carry everything alone.
You kissed him back, your fingers curling into his shirt as you pulled him closer. For a few seconds, it was just the two of you, the world outside forgotten. But when you finally pulled back, the ache in your chest flared again, sharper this time, making you wince slightly.
Loganâs eyes narrowed, concern flashing across his face. âYou alright?â
âYeah,â you said quickly, brushing it off. âJust... tired, I guess.â
He didnât look convinced, but he didnât push it either. Instead, he kissed your forehead softly, his hands still holding you close. âYou need to sleep. Iâll stay with you, okay?â
You nodded, letting him lead you to your small bedroom. As you lay down, Logan settled beside you, his arm draped around your waist as he pulled you close. You nestled against him, the warmth of his body soothing, but even as you drifted off to sleep, that strange ache lingered, a quiet reminder that something wasnât right.
---
Over the next few days, you tried to ignore the fatigue that seemed to cling to you like a heavy blanket. You told yourself it was just the stress, the worry about Mrs. Thomas and the kids. But the truth was, deep down, you knew it was more than that.
Mr. Thomas had been around the house more often, spending almost every moment with his wife before she passed. It would only be a matter of days now. Her condition had deteriorated to the point where she was barely conscious most of the time, her labored breathing a constant reminder of the inevitable.
You moved quietly through the house, keeping the children occupied as best you could. Edwin and Phillip were rambunctious as always, but Ada had grown more subdued. She didnât ask about her mother as often, as if sensing the unspoken truth everyone was trying to shield her from. You noticed how she clung to your side even more than usual, her small hands gripping your skirts, her wide eyes watching you with a kind of quiet understanding that broke your heart.
It was late afternoon, and the house was eerily quiet. The children were playing in the parlor, their laughter muffled behind the closed doors. You had just finished cleaning up the kitchen when a wave of exhaustion hit you. Your legs felt heavy, your chest tight. You hadnât been sleeping well, the stress of Mrs. Thomasâs condition weighing on you, but this was different. Your appetite had been lacking for days, though youâd convinced yourself it was just nerves.
You leaned against the counter, taking a slow, deep breath to steady yourself. It would pass. You just needed rest.
Logan wasnât due to visit tonight. He had mentioned something about work keeping him late, and you didnât want to ask him to come by, though the ache in your chestâthe one you tried to ignoreâlonged for his presence.
Shaking off the lingering fatigue, you made your way upstairs to check on Mrs. Thomas. As you reached the top of the stairs, you heard her soft, raspy breathing. You hesitated outside the door, your hand resting on the doorknob for a moment, before slowly opening it and stepping inside.
Mr. Thomas sat at his wifeâs bedside, holding her hand gently. He glanced up at you, his face pale and drawn, the exhaustion of weeks of worry evident in his eyes. You gave him a small, comforting smile, though you werenât sure how much comfort you could offer.
"Thank you, Y/N," he said quietly, his voice hoarse from lack of sleep and emotion. "For everything."
You nodded, moving to the other side of the bed to check on Mrs. Thomas. Her eyes were closed, her breathing shallow and uneven. She didnât stir when you adjusted the blankets around her. The room was stifling, the air heavy with the scent of sickness, and you fought the urge to cough, your throat suddenly dry.
âSheâs peaceful,â you murmured softly, glancing at Mr. Thomas.
He nodded but didnât say anything. His gaze was fixed on his wife, his hand never leaving hers.
You stayed for a moment longer, but the fatigue creeping up your spine forced you to excuse yourself. As you descended the stairs, your legs felt weaker than before, and a dull ache had settled in your chest. You rubbed absently at your throat, trying to shake off the discomfort. It was nothing, you told yourself. Just tired.
The evening stretched on, the children finally quieting down for bed. You tucked them in, lingering for a moment by Adaâs bedside. She reached for your hand, her tiny fingers curling around yours.
âWill Mama be better soon?â she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
You swallowed the lump in your throat, brushing a lock of hair from her forehead. âSheâs resting, sweetheart,â you said softly. âJust keep being brave, alright?â
Ada nodded, her eyes already heavy with sleep, though the worry didnât leave her small face.
Once they were all asleep, you returned downstairs, your body feeling heavier with each step. The fire in the hearth had burned low, casting long shadows across the room. You sat by the fireplace, staring into the dying flames, and let the silence of the house settle over you.
And then there was a soft knock at the back door.
Your heart lifted despite the exhaustion weighing you down. You rose slowly and crossed the room, opening the door to find Logan standing there, snowflakes dusting his hair and coat. He gave you a crooked smile, his eyes scanning your face with concern.
âYou look tired,â he said softly, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. âReally tired.â
âIâm fine,â you murmured, though the weariness in your voice betrayed you. âI wasnât expecting you tonight.â
âI finished earlier than I thought,â he said, shrugging off his coat and hanging it by the door. âThought Iâd check on you.â
Without another word, he closed the distance between you, his arms wrapping around you in a gentle embrace. You melted into him, resting your head against his chest as the warmth of his body seeped into yours. For a moment, the ache in your chest seemed to ease, the fatigue lifting just a little.
âThank you,â you whispered, your voice barely audible.
Logan pulled back slightly, his hand coming up to cup your cheek as he studied your face. âYou donât have to thank me,â he said softly, his thumb brushing against your skin. âIâm here.â
His lips met yours in a slow, tender kiss, and you felt the tension in your body begin to unravel. The warmth of his mouth, the familiar strength of his hands holding you closeâit was all you needed in that moment. When the kiss ended, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours.
âYou need to rest,â he murmured. âYou look like youâre about to fall over.â
âI will,â you promised, though you didnât want to leave his arms just yet. You leaned into him, letting his presence chase away the exhaustion for a little longer.
---
The funeral was only 6 days later, 4 days after Mrs. Thomasâ passing. She was buried at the Prospect Cemetery at a small affair with rich people you had only heard of in passing.
The funeral was a somber affair. Mrs. Thomas was laid to rest under a sky that threatened snow, and you stood a little ways back, holding Adaâs hand tightly. She had been unusually quiet since her motherâs passing, and even Edwin and Phillip had sensed the weight of the occasion, their usual energy tempered by the somber mood.
You glanced around at the crowd gatheredâa sea of dark, expensive fabrics, murmured condolences, and familiar faces. Most of the people you recognized only by name or through brief encounters at the Thomas house. They didnât seem to belong to the world you inhabited, their whispered conversations and distant gazes a reminder of the divide between their lives and yours.
Mr. Thomas stood near the front, his face a mask of stoicism as he accepted words of sympathy. His children had not left your side, and you knew why. They found more comfort in you than in the strangers who seemed to only appear during tragedies. You didnât blame them.
As the ceremony came to a close, Ada tugged at your hand. "Can we go home now?" she asked quietly, her voice barely audible over the sound of rustling leaves and shifting boots in the cold.
You nodded, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. âWe can, sweetheart. Just a few more minutes.â
You caught Mr. Thomasâs eye as he stepped away from the others. He gave you a weary nod, and you knew it was time to leave. You guided the children back to the carriage, helping them inside before following. The ride home was silent, save for the occasional sniffle from Ada and the creaking of the carriage wheels on the cobbled streets.
---
Back at the house, the quiet felt heavier than before. You could feel the weight of grief settling over everything, and it seemed to seep into your bones, making the fatigue that had been gnawing at you for days feel unbearable. Once the children were settled, you retreated to the kitchen, needing a moment to yourself.
But the moment you sat down, the ache in your chest flared up again, sharper this time. You tried to breathe through it, but the tightness only seemed to get worse. A cold sweat broke out on your forehead, and you pressed a hand to your throat, willing it to pass. It felt like something more than just exhaustion now. Something was wrong, but you didnât have time to worry about it.
The back door creaked open, and you startled, your hand flying to your chest as Logan stepped in. His eyes immediately found yours, narrowing in concern.
âY/N,â he said, his voice low but urgent as he crossed the room. âWhatâs wrong?â
âNothing,â you muttered, forcing a weak smile as you tried to stand. âIâm just tired. Long day.â
But Logan wasnât buying it. His hand caught yours, and he gently pulled you to him, his other hand resting on your waist. âYouâve been tired for days,â he said quietly, his eyes searching yours. âAnd you look worse now than you did a week ago.â
âIâm fine,â you insisted, leaning into his warmth without thinking. âJust... everything with Mrs. Thomas. I havenât been sleeping well, thatâs all.â
Logan didnât say anything for a moment, just held you there, his thumb brushing slow circles against your hip. âYouâre not fine,â he said softly. âYou need to rest. Youâre running yourself into the ground, and I donât wantââ
âI donât want to talk about it,â you cut him off, shaking your head as you buried your face in his chest. âI just... I just want to stay like this for a while. Can we do that?â
Loganâs arms tightened around you, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. âWe can stay like this as long as you need,â he whispered.
The warmth of his embrace, the steady rise and fall of his chest, calmed the rapid beating of your heart. It didnât make the ache in your chest go away, but it dulled the edges for a little while. You stayed like that, your bodies swaying slightly, as if rocking back and forth would somehow soothe the turmoil inside you both.
After a long stretch of silence, Logan pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. His fingers brushed a loose strand of hair from your face, his gaze soft but serious. âYouâve gotta start taking care of yourself,â he murmured. âI mean it, Y/N.â
âI will,â you promised, though you werenât sure how much of it was for him and how much was for yourself. You could see the worry etched in his features, and it made your heart ache in a different way. âI just... I donât want to leave the kids right now. They need me.â
Logan sighed, shaking his head slightly. âThey need you alive and healthy, not running yourself ragged.â
You knew he was right, but the thought of stepping awayâof not being there for them when they needed you mostâmade your stomach turn.
âI know,â you whispered, your voice barely audible. âBut Iâm all they have right now.â
Loganâs expression softened, and he leaned in to kiss you gently, his lips lingering against yours in a way that felt both comforting and urgent, as if he was trying to convey everything he couldnât put into words.
When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. âYouâre not alone in this, Y/N,â he murmured. âIâm here. Always.â
You closed your eyes, letting the weight of his words settle over you. It was moments like this, in the quiet after the storm, that made everything feel bearable, even when the exhaustion seemed impossible to shake. You didnât want to think about what came nextâthe inevitable questions from the children, the grief that would continue to hang over the house like a dark cloud.
For now, you just wanted to be here, with Logan, in this fleeting moment of peace.
---
Over the next few days, that small cough persisted, annoying but easy to brush off at first. You told yourself it was just the cold weather, or maybe the exhaustion still clinging to you. But it stuck around, and soon it wasnât just a cough. Your chest felt heavier, and there were moments where you had to stop to catch your breath.
You didnât say anything to Logan the first few nights he visited, not wanting to worry him. It wasnât like you were coughing up blood or anything, and you figured it would pass, just like the fatigue had started to. But when he saw you rubbing your chest again, his eyes narrowed with concern.
âYouâve been coughing a lot,â Logan said one evening, his arm draped casually over your shoulder as you leaned into him by the fire. The warmth of the flames helped ease the tightness in your chest, but even then, it felt harder to breathe than it had before.
âIâm fine,â you mumbled, tucking your legs under you and snuggling closer to him, hoping to avoid the conversation. âItâs just the cold. Everyoneâs getting sick this time of year.â
Logan tilted his head, clearly unconvinced. âY/N, donât pull that. I know you, and youâre coughing more than you should be. This isnât just a cold.â
You sighed, not wanting to argue, but the exhaustion weighed on you, and fighting him off seemed too tiring. âOkay, maybe itâs not just a cold,â you admitted, glancing at him. âBut itâs nothing serious. Iâm just run down.â
Loganâs fingers gently traced up your arm, his touch familiar and grounding. He looked at you with that steady gaze of his, the one that made you feel safe. âYou need to rest. Real rest, not just five minutes of sleep here and there between looking after the kids.â
You gave him a half-hearted smile, reaching up to touch his face. âI know. But they need me right now, especially Ada. Sheâs not taking this well, and I canât just leave her.â
Logan leaned in and pressed his forehead to yours, his breath warm against your skin. âYouâre no good to them if you collapse from exhaustion.â
The way he said itâso serious, so protectiveâit made your chest ache in a different way. You knew he was right, but the thought of taking a step back when the kids were still hurting felt impossible.
âIâm not going anywhere,â you whispered, but your voice wavered just enough that Logan picked up on it.
He kissed you softly, slow and gentle, like he was trying to pour all of his concern into that one kiss. When he pulled back, his hand lingered on the side of your face. âYou donât have to carry this by yourself, Y/N,â he said softly. âIâm here.â
You looked at him, feeling the weight of his words, and for a moment, you let yourself believe itâthat you didnât have to do everything on your own.
But the next morning, as you moved through the house and got the kids ready for the day, the cough came back with a vengeance. It left you winded, gripping the counter to steady yourself as your breath caught in your throat. Ada was tugging at your skirt, asking for something, but the ringing in your ears made it hard to focus.
âY/N?â her small voice called, but everything sounded distant.
You forced yourself to smile, pushing through the wave of dizziness. âIâm okay, sweetheart,â you said, though it was more for you than her. The ache in your chest was sharper now, and for the first time, a flicker of real fear crossed your mind.
That evening, when Logan came by, you didnât have the energy to hide how bad you felt. The second he walked through the door, he saw it in your face.
âY/N,â he said, his voice urgent as he rushed to your side. âWhat the hell happened? You look worse.â
You tried to brush it off, but the cough came again, harsher this time, and Loganâs eyes darkened with worry. His hands were on you, steadying you as you leaned into him, the warmth of his body grounding you again.
âYouâre not fine,â he said, his tone more serious now. âI shouldâve done something sooner.â
âLogan, donâtââ
âIâm taking you to a doctor,â he interrupted, his jaw set. âNo arguing.â
You wanted to protest, but the truth was, you didnât have the strength to fight him. You were too tired, too worn down, and part of you was scared. So you nodded, letting him pull you into his arms as if holding you close would make everything better.
âIâm here,â Logan whispered against your hair, his voice soft and filled with a tenderness that made your heart ache. âIâll take care of you, okay? Youâre not going through this alone.â
---
The next morning, Logan arrived earlier than usual. He wasnât taking any chances, especially after the night before. Youâd barely slept, your coughing keeping you awake for most of it, and when you did manage to drift off, it was only in short, restless intervals.
Logan helped you into the carriage heâd hired, his hands lingering on your arms longer than necessary, his brow furrowed with worry. He hadnât said much since arriving, just a quiet âMorninââ before ushering you outside. His concern was written all over his face, even though he tried to hide it behind a mask of calm.
You leaned back against the seat, closing your eyes as the carriage bumped along the cobbled streets. Each breath felt heavier, the tightness in your chest worsening by the day. You didnât want to admit it, but you knew this was more than just a cold. The cough had settled deep, rattling in your lungs, and even though you tried to convince yourself it was nothing serious, the thought that it could be something more was gnawing at you.
Logan sat beside you, his knee pressed against yours as he kept a protective hand on your leg. Every so often, youâd feel his gaze on you, watching, as if checking to make sure you were still holding on. The warmth of his presence was a comfort, even if you didnât say it out loud.
When the carriage finally stopped, you opened your eyes and saw the modest sign hanging above the doctor's office. Logan didnât waste any time helping you down, his arm tight around your waist as you made your way inside.
The waiting room was quiet, the air thick with the scent of medicinal herbs. Logan barely let go of you the entire time, his arm never leaving your waist, and when the doctor finally called you in, Logan made it clear he wasnât going anywhere.
Inside the small exam room, the doctorâa middle-aged man with silver hair and a kind faceâgreeted you both with a nod. His expression shifted when he looked at you, though, his eyes softening in a way that made your stomach churn with nerves.
âHow long have you had the cough, miss?â the doctor asked as you sat down, Logan standing right behind you.
âA few days,â you said, your voice raspy and weak. âMaybe a little longer.â
The doctor frowned slightly, moving closer to examine you. âAnd the fatigue? Any weight loss?â
You nodded. âYes... Iâve been really tired, and I havenât had much of an appetite.â
Loganâs hand rested on your shoulder, a silent reassurance that he was there. The doctor continued his examination, listening to your chest with a stethoscope, his brow furrowing as he moved from side to side.
After what felt like an eternity, the doctor stepped back, letting out a slow breath. He met your eyes, and you knew immediately that it wasnât good.
âI donât want to alarm you,â he began, his voice gentle. âBut given your symptoms and the sound of your lungs, I believe you may have contracted tuberculosis.â
The words hung in the air like a heavy weight. You felt Logan tense behind you, his grip on your shoulder tightening ever so slightly.
Tuberculosis.
The sickness that had taken Mrs. Thomas. The same one that had been lingering in the house for weeks.
Your heart pounded in your chest, and for a moment, you couldnât breathe. Youâd heard the storiesâthe way it ravaged families, the way it spread so easily. Youâd seen it firsthand with Mrs. Thomas, watching her waste away before your eyes.
âHow... how bad is it?â Loganâs voice was rough, strained, like he was barely holding himself together.
The doctor glanced at him, his expression serious. âItâs hard to say right now. Tuberculosis can vary greatly in severity. Weâll need to monitor her closely. Rest, proper care, and keeping her away from others as much as possible will be essential.â
You tried to swallow, but your throat felt tight. âWhat... what do we do now?â
The doctor sighed. âWeâll start with treatment to help ease the symptomsâmedicinal herbs, rest, and a strict diet. Itâs crucial that you avoid any further exertion. Youâll need to isolate yourself to prevent it from spreading.â
You nodded, but your mind was spinning. The thought of being confined, of having to stay away from the childrenâit made your chest tighten even more. How were you supposed to care for them when you couldnât even take care of yourself?
Logan crouched down in front of you, his eyes searching yours as he held your hands in his. âWeâll figure this out, okay?â he said softly. âYouâll rest, and Iâll help with the kids. Youâre not doing this alone.â
Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away. You didnât want to cry, didnât want Logan to see how scared you really were.
âI donât want to leave them,â you whispered, your voice shaking. âThey need me.â
âI know,â Logan murmured, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against your hand. âBut they need you healthy, Y/N. And I need you healthy.â
You looked at him, your heart aching at the sight of his worry. He was trying so hard to be strong for you, to keep it together, but you could see the fear in his eyesâthe same fear you felt deep in your bones.
âWeâll get through this,â he said firmly. âYouâre not going anywhere, okay? Not without a fight.â
You nodded, squeezing his hands as tightly as you could. Logan stayed close, his presence a steady, comforting force as the weight of the diagnosis settled over you both.
---
Weeks passed, and the house became quieter. The children were kept at a distance, the once lively home now feeling more like a tomb as you spent your days in bed, trying to gather what little strength you had left. Logan had taken over your duties, ensuring the children were cared for while also staying close to you.
Your body grew weaker with each passing day, the illness creeping deeper into your lungs. The once mild cough had turned into something far more painful, leaving you breathless and exhausted after every fit. You knew, deep down, that the end was approaching. You could feel it in the way your energy dwindled, the way even opening your eyes took effort.
Logan, on the other hand, refused to give up. He never spoke of what was coming, never let on that he saw the same inevitable truth. Instead, he clung to hope, pushing you to eat, to drink, to rest. His presence was a constant, grounding you even in your weakest moments.
Sometimes you even talked about the future, the one you knew you would never have, and the one Logan hoped you would, with him.
Your coughing fit had died down for now, leaving you in bed with your head resting against Loganâs shoulder. His arm was wrapped protectively around you, and the warmth of his body gave you a sense of comfort, even when the pain in your chest didnât. You took in a shaky breath and spoke softly.
âIâve always wanted a dog,â you murmured, your voice still weak. âMaybe two.â
Logan shifted slightly, his chin resting on top of your head. âYeah? What kind?â
You shrugged, smiling a little. âDoesnât really matter. I just like the idea of having something waiting for me at home, you know? Something happy to see me, no matter what kind of day Iâve had.â
He chuckled quietly, the sound vibrating through his chest. âYouâd be a good dog mom.â
You looked up at him, a playful glint in your tired eyes. âYou think?â
âDefinitely. Youâve already got all the practice with the kids.â He paused, his thumb gently brushing the back of your hand. âExcept maybe the dog would be less trouble.â
You laughed, but it turned into a cough, and you quickly brought a hand to your mouth. Logan tensed beside you, waiting until the coughing subsided before speaking again.
âYouâre gonna get better, Y/N,â he said softly, his voice firm, but the edge of worry was clear. âWeâll get you that dog. Or two.â
You didnât respond right away. You wanted to believe himâreally, you didâbut each day you felt weaker, and it was getting harder to ignore the reality of your situation. But you also didnât want to drag him down with your fears, so you leaned into him instead, letting the moment linger.
You put your chin on his shoulder, looking up at him, âhow many kids would you want?â
Logan looked at you, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. âKids, huh?â His voice was warm, teasing, but there was something tender in the way he looked at you, like he was imagining it for real.
âYeah,â you said, resting your chin on his shoulder, eyes searching his face. âI know itâs kind of silly to think about right now, but... I like the idea. You?â
He took a breath, his fingers tracing absent patterns on your arm. âI donât know,â he admitted. âNever really thought much about it until you.â
You raised an eyebrow. âUntil me?â
Logan chuckled softly. âYeah. Before you, I wasnât really thinkinâ about things like... a future, you know? I didnât even know if Iâd stay in the city long. But now... now I think about things I never used to.â He paused, glancing down at your hand, his fingers interlacing with yours. âLike kids, and... us.â
Your heart fluttered at that, the weight of his words settling in. Heâd never said anything like that beforeânothing about the future beyond today or tomorrow. It wasnât like either of you knew what was coming, especially now, but hearing him say that he thought about you in that way made everything feel more real. More possible.
You grinned, nudging him playfully. âSo, how many then? Two? Three?â
Logan laughed quietly. âTwo sounds good. Just enough to keep us on our toes, but not so many we lose our minds.â
You giggled, a sound that quickly turned into a cough, and Loganâs smile faded a little, worry creeping back into his eyes. But he didnât say anything. Instead, he just held you closer, his arms wrapping around you like he could shield you from everything bad in the world.
Once the cough subsided, you leaned your head back against his chest. âI think youâd be a good dad, Logan.â
His hand stilled against your arm. âYou think?â
âYeah,â you said softly. âYouâre good with the kids now, even if you donât realize it. They like you, trust you. Youâd protect them... care for them.â
Logan was quiet for a moment, and you could feel the weight of his thoughts. âIâd try,â he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.
The warmth of his body, the steadiness of his presenceâit was enough to make you forget, for just a little while, how weak you felt. You closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into the comfort of him, of this moment, even though you knew it wouldnât last.
âDo you ever wonder what itâd be like?â you asked quietly. âIf we didnât have to worry about... this.â You gestured vaguely, meaning the illness, the uncertainty, all of it.
âAll the time,â Logan murmured. âBut weâve still got time, Y/N. Iâm not giving up on you.â
You opened your eyes, looking up at him. âYou really think weâll make it through this?â
Loganâs gaze was unwavering. âI know we will.â
His confidence, his belief in you, in this, made your heart ache in the best way. You wanted to believe him, wanted to hold onto that hope, even though the fear lingered in the back of your mind.
âYou donât have to be so tough all the time,â Logan said gently, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. âItâs okay to lean on me.â
You looked at him, your chest tight for a different reason now. âI know.â
And you did. Logan was always there, steady and unshakable, even when you felt like you were falling apart. You didnât have to do this alone, even if part of you still felt like you should.
Logan leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than usual. âIâm with you, Y/N,â he whispered. âNo matter what.â
You closed your eyes again, savoring the warmth of his kiss, the feeling of his arms around you. For now, that was enough.
But even as you rested against him, part of you couldnât shake the nagging feeling that your time was running out.
---
Logan hated the fact that everything you said was in past tense. How you wouldâve liked to learn how to bake bread in that cabin you wanted.
How you wouldâve liked to learn how to crochet.
Logan sat on the edge of the bed, watching you with a quiet intensity. You had been talking again, your voice soft and tired, about all the things you wished you had more time to do. It was starting to drive him crazyâthe way you spoke in past tense, like you were already halfway gone.
âWouldâve liked to learn how to crochet,â he repeated softly, his eyes never leaving your face.
You smiled, but it didnât reach your eyes. âYeah. I always thought itâd be nice to make something with my hands. You know, like a blanket or something... for the cabin.â
Loganâs chest tightened. He hated thisâhated that you were talking about all these little dreams like they were out of reach. He leaned forward, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. âYouâre gonna be fine, Y/N,â he said, trying to sound more certain than he felt. âYouâll still have time for all that.â
You met his gaze, your eyes soft but filled with something elseâsomething that made his heart ache. âLogan...â
âNo,â he interrupted, shaking his head. âYou donât get to talk like that. Weâre gonna get you through this.â
You let out a soft sigh, your hand coming up to touch his cheek. âYou donât always have to be strong, you know. Itâs okay to be scared.â
âIâm not scared,â Logan said quickly, though the way he gripped your hand a little tighter gave him away. He wasnât ready to admit itâto you, to himselfâthat the thought of losing you scared him more than anything heâd ever faced.
You smiled faintly, shifting on the bed so you could lean into him. âI know you, Logan. You donât have to pretend for me.â
Logan felt his throat tighten as you pressed closer to him. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you into his chest, trying to hold on to the moment for as long as he could. Your body felt so fragile against his, like you could break if he held you too tight. But he needed to feel you, to remind himself that you were still here.
âDonât,â Logan said, his voice thick with emotion. âDonât talk like that.â He looked away for a second, trying to regain control of the storm raging inside him. He didnât want to hear the finality in your voice, didnât want to acknowledge the possibility that you might slip away from him.
You reached out, your hand trembling slightly as you touched his cheek. âLogan, you know as well as I do...â
âNo,â he repeated, cutting you off again, his voice gruff but shaky. His hand covered yours, pressing it gently against his face. âIâm not losing you. I donât care what the doctor says. Weâll fight this. Weâll get through it.â
There was a long silence between you, the air heavy with the unspoken truth. You didnât have the heart to argue with him, but you knew. You could feel it in your bones, in the way your body was failing you little by little every day. But Loganâs refusal to accept that reality made you love him even more, even if it hurt.
You gave him a sad smile, your eyes locking with his. âI love you, Logan.â
His breath caught, and for a moment, he couldnât speak. The weight of those wordsâwords youâd both danced around but never truly saidâhit him like a punch to the gut. He leaned in close, his forehead resting against yours, his voice barely a whisper.
âI love you too, Y/N,â he finally said, his voice breaking just a little.
You closed your eyes, letting the warmth of his words wash over you. It wasnât fair, any of this. Youâd only just begun to imagine a life with him, and now that future was slipping through your fingers.
Logan held you tighter, his arms wrapped around you as if he could protect you from everything, even death. He kissed your forehead, then your cheek, before pressing a final, lingering kiss to your lips. It wasnât passionate or desperateâjust soft, filled with all the love he hadnât yet had the chance to show you.
âIâm here,â he whispered again, his lips brushing against your skin. âAlways.â
And for a moment, despite the pain, despite everything, you believed him. Because even if the future was uncertain, even if you didnât have much time left, you had this. You had him. And for now, that was enough.
---
Nothing had worked, and nothing was working.
You had already accepted your fate, but Logan couldnâtâno matter how many times you tried to explain. He kept his focus on you, his stubborn hope unwavering, even though you both knew time was running out.
âYouâre gonna be fine, Y/N. Youâll see,â he said softly, sitting beside you on the bed. He brushed a hand through your hair, his touch gentle, but the worry in his eyes was impossible to miss.
You looked up at him, your chest tightânot from the sickness, but from the overwhelming love you felt for him in that moment. âLogan... we need to talk about this.â
He shook his head immediately, his jaw clenched. âNo, we donât. We donât have to talk about anything like that. Youâre gonna get better, and weâll figure everything out.â His voice cracked just a little at the end, betraying the fear he was trying to hide.
You reached for his hand, your fingers trembling as they closed around his. âI donât want to pretend anymore. I donât want to spend what little time we have left lying to ourselves.â
Logan looked down at your intertwined hands, his thumb tracing slow circles on your skin. âBut I canât... I canât think about losing you.â
âYou donât have to think about it,â you whispered, leaning your head against his shoulder. âBut we need to be honest with each other. Iâm not getting better, Logan. We both know that.â
His whole body tensed beside you, and he turned his head away as if looking anywhere but at you would somehow make your words less real. âI canât... I canât lose you, Y/N.â
You swallowed the lump in your throat and leaned closer, pressing your lips softly to his jaw. âI love you, Logan. Thatâs all that matters to me right now.â
His breath hitched, and for a long moment, he didnât say anything. He just sat there, holding you as if he could protect you from the inevitable, his arms tightening around you.
After a while, he finally spoke, his voice barely a whisper. âI love you too. More than anything. Thatâs why Iâm not giving up.â
You pulled back slightly, looking up at him, your heart breaking for him. âI know youâre trying to protect me... but I donât want you to carry this alone. I need you to be here with me, in this moment, not fighting something we canât change.â
Loganâs eyes met yours, and for a second, the wall heâd built around himself seemed to crack. âI donât know how to do that,â he admitted. âI donât know how to just... be.â
âYou donât have to be strong all the time,â you whispered, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek. âYou can let go.â
His eyes softened, and before you could say anything else, Logan leaned in and kissed youâsoft, but with an intensity that made your heart ache. It was a kiss that said everything he couldnât put into words: the fear, the love, the desperation to hold onto whatever time you had left.
When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breath shaky. âI donât know how to say goodbye,â he whispered.
You closed your eyes, your hand still resting on his cheek. âWe donât have to say goodbye yet. Just stay with me. Thatâs all I want.â
Logan didnât respond with words. Instead, he held you tighter, his arms wrapping around you as if he could keep you with him through sheer willpower alone. You could feel the tremble in his hands, the way his breath hitched every now and then like he was fighting back tears.
For a while, you both stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, the world outside fading into nothingness. There was no cough, no sickness, no uncertaintyâjust the warmth of Loganâs body against yours and the steady beat of his heart beneath your hand.
Eventually, you spoke, your voice barely audible. âI wish we had more time.â
Loganâs grip tightened slightly. âMe too.â
You felt a lump in your throat, but you forced a small smile. âYou know... if things were different, I think weâd have had a pretty good life together.â
Loganâs voice was thick with emotion as he replied, âWe still will. Somehow... someday.â
You leaned your head against his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. âMaybe in another life.â
Logan didnât say anything, but you could feel the way his body stiffened, like he couldnât stand the thought of losing you againâeven in another life.
âYou donât have to be alone, Logan,â you whispered, your voice soft but filled with all the love you had left. âPromise me you wonât shut yourself off.â
He was silent for a long moment, and when he finally spoke, his voice was rough and raw. âI canât promise that.â
You smiled faintly, knowing that was the best you were going to get from him. âJust... donât forget me.â
Logan leaned down and pressed another kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a long time. âI could never forget you.â
The room was quiet after that, the only sound the soft rustling of the blankets as Logan adjusted you in his arms, pulling you closer.
You closed your eyes, feeling the exhaustion creeping in again, but this time it didnât feel so overwhelming. With Loganâs warmth surrounding you, with his quiet strength holding you up, you felt at peace.
---
You had passed away in your sleep that night, in Loganâs arms. He had stayed up, something in his subconscious telling him to keep his eye on you.
And he did, he felt you take your last breath; one that didnât seem as painful as when you were awake.
Logan held you close, his arms tightening around you instinctively as he realized what had just happened. His mind refused to process it, refused to accept that this was it. He stared at you, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with breaths that felt foreign in his own body. You werenât moving anymore, not even the faintest stir.
For a long time, he didnât let go. He couldnât. His arms stayed wrapped around you, his face buried in your hair, willing his warmth into your body as if that could somehow bring you back.
"Y/N..." he whispered, his voice broken. He lifted his head slightly, his thumb brushing your cold cheek. "Please... wake up."
There was no answer.
Logan swallowed hard, his throat burning, his chest tightening. His hand trembled as it caressed your face, fingers gently tucking your hair behind your ear like heâd done a hundred times before. But this time, there was no playful smile in return. No teasing comment about how messy your hair always was.
It was quiet. Too quiet.
He let out a shaky breath, his other hand clutching the bedsheet, the weight of what had happened finally starting to crush him. He knew this moment was comingâheâd known it for weeks, maybe even monthsâbut now that it was here, it didnât feel real. He couldnât understand how it had come to this, how someone as full of life as you could just... stop.
âY/N... donât do this... please,â he whispered again, his voice barely audible as if saying it any louder would make it more true. His hand lingered on your cheek, hoping for even the smallest sign that youâd take another breath.
But nothing came.
He stayed like that for a long time, just holding you, feeling the weight of your stillness.
Logan had never felt so powerless in his life. For all the things he could do, for all the strength in his bones, none of it could save you. His healing couldnât save you. The realization cut him deeper than any wound ever had.
At some point, he felt his chest tremble, felt the tears start to burn at the corners of his eyes. He hadnât cried in years, maybe everânot like thisâbut he couldnât stop it now. Not when heâd lost you.
âI... I love you,â he choked out, the words falling from his lips like a confession, like an apology for not saying it enough while you were still here to hear it. He pressed his forehead to yours, his voice breaking again. âI love you so much...â
The room was silent, except for the sound of Loganâs ragged breathing and the ticking of the old clock in the corner, each second passing with an agonizing slowness. He wished he could turn it back, go back to when you were still hereâlaughing, talking, smiling. Anything but this.
But he couldnât.
And the weight of that realization shattered him.
For the first time in his life, Logan had no fight left in him. Not for this. Not without you.
i'm not gonna lie, i definitely started crying while writing those last few scenes, even though i knew how it was gonna end
just a little note for everyone (i'll probably add this at the end of every chapter just cause it helped me when writing) in this chapter, logan is 22 years old and reader is around the same age.
tags: @seasonofthenerd @golden-ebony @planetxella @tighrenicotine @wittyjasontodd @cherrypieyourface @tumharisakhi @person-005 @zaggprincess2
#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you#wolverine x reader#wolverine x you#james howlett x reader#james howlett x you#logan howlett#logan howlett fanfiction#logan howlett x fem!reader#logan howlett fic#i love you in every time
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