#and everyone else is just watching you two fight going “yeah when are they gonna just fucking kiss already?”

[kxsagi]

OMG REQS ARE OPEN!! could i possibly get a part 2 to the “she’s nothing like the girl you’ve ever seen before” (basically an extremely pretty reader) but with yukimiya, otoya and aiku? thank youuu :))

“𝐬𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐭. 𝟐”

a/n: yesss ofc!!! pt. 1 is here

also don’t know if anyone got the title reference but it’s a lyric from sexy bitch by david guetta LMAO (that song is fire)

ft. yukimiya kenyu, otoya eita, aiku oliver

yukimiya kenyu – “she’s beautiful and mine. please stop looking at her. please.” 

despite being a model himself, yukimiya is so painfully aware of how attractive you are. like, to a spiritual level. 

he’ll walk into a café with you and immediately sense it. the shift in energy. the glances. the triple-takes. 

“you saw that guy, right?” “which one?” “exactly.” 

he’s not jealous per se, but he does pull you a little closer by the waist and gives a few proud side-eyes like, yeah, look. she's mine. admire all you want, peasants. 

if someone dares approach you when he's not by your side, he'll suddenly appear out of nowhere like a protective spell. 

one time you were getting groceries and a guy tried to chat you up by the onions. yukimiya appeared like: “hi, angel. did you find the truffle oil?” you were shopping for rice. 

he’s dramatic. “you know, it’s hard being the boyfriend of the prettiest girl on earth. it’s emotionally taxing.” 

but the truth? every time someone stares at you, he gets a little smug. he knew you were a showstopper. the world’s just catching up. 

otoya eita – “damn you’re hot. what was i saying again? right. we’re in public.” 

otoya’s ego thrives off of your looks. like, yeah, you turn heads, but so does he. and together? you two are obnoxiously hot. 

it’s his favorite game to count how many people check you out during a date. “that’s five. six if you count the waiter. gosh, you’re unreal.” 

doesn’t get jealous at all. in fact, he loves watching you ignore everyone else because it feeds into his delusion that you’re obsessed with him. 

“they can look. but only i get to see your skincare routine up close. perks of being irresistible.” 

otoya will dramatically fan himself if you wear anything revealing. literally falls over the arm of the couch like, “babe, i can’t go out like this. i’ll fight someone. with my bare hands.” 

also won’t hesitate to wrap an arm around your shoulders with the most stupidly smug expression. 

if someone flirts with you in public, otoya will just grin and go, “thanks, i think she’s hot too. but she likes emotionally unstable pretty boys, so... better luck next time.” 

you're his favorite flex and he’s never subtle about it. 

aiku oliver – “you look hot. no, seriously. i need you to tone it down. people are staring and i’m gonna lose it.” 

oliver talks a big game, but the second you walk out in a cute outfit? he’s malfunctioning. 

one time you wore a red dress and he just stood there like: “... i need to sit down.” 

literally grits his teeth when he catches other guys checking you out. “he blinked at you. twice. that’s flirting in guy language.” 

gets all possessive out of nowhere. like you’re walking past a group of dudes and suddenly his hand is on your lower back. 

“damn, can you walk like... less sexier? it’s not safe.” 

acts super calm but is actually fuming inside if a guy even looks at you wrong. guy: “wow, your girlfriend’s gorgeous.” oliver, smiling: “she is. also i’m trained in three forms of combat. just so you know.” 

but! deep down, he’s proud. he knows you could have anyone, and yet you’re his. 

“can’t blame them for staring. i stare at you, too.” “that’s sweet.” “no i mean like. all the time. i barely get things done.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[fruitsoxs]

this is long so i'm putting some under read more

BUT- Thinking about Astarion with a generally good tav/reader. I’m thinking it’s sort of an enemies to lovers type deal, where the two of you start off the adventure by bickering constantly over what to do. You always want to do the right thing, and it absolutely infuriates Astarion. He pushes back whenever he can, because your little rag tag group has other matters that are much more important than saving children, or rescuing girls from some hag. But of course, he’s always outvoted. You are easily annoyed by his constant complaining whenever you want to do something good, and so of course the two of you are almost always at each other's throats.

“Oh I’m sorry that I actually have a heart.” “You should be- we have other matters to attend to. Like, well I don't know, the thing inside our heads!”

However, there are moments where Astarion comes to learn that he genuinely likes your kind heart. When you easily forgive him for…hiding what he truly is. Or how you lie when a hunter is out and about. There are moments where you tend to his wounds in complete silence, gently wrapping a bandage around his arm. And when he says a quiet thank you, you simply nod and move on. 

He’d never say this out loud, and of course continues to act as if you are nothing but a nuisance, but he starts to appreciate you little by little. You are not just some naïve adventurer who will drop dead if someone were to ask. You are the strongest person he knows, someone he could depend on if needed. He watches you fuss over the group, solving everyone’s problems. He sees how much work you put into making everyone comfortable, and how little you ask for in return. And while he thinks you’re a little stupid for it, he also recognizes that most of his disdain comes from the fact that he wishes he had someone like you to save him when he was at his lowest. If good people like you exist, then why did nobody come to his aid? 

So maybe he gets less snippy. He doesn’t roll his eyes every time you put the mission on hold to do favors for others. Maybe he starts to fall for you little by little.

And maybe it all becomes clear to him when you get hurt.

It was supposed to be an easy little mission. A peaceful meeting that you were sure you could talk your way out of (it always surprised him how easily you could lie your way out of fights). And of course, Astarion and you just had to get in a little spat beforehand, so he stays at the campsite while you’re off bringing peace to the world. He doesn’t expect to see the others come rushing into camp, dragging your weak body along. He doesn’t expect to see you so pale, fighting for your very life-

He rushes to your side, demanding to know what happened. Something went wrong, and somehow you ended up stabbed with a poisoned dagger in the midst of a fight. He feels his insides churn when they lay you down on a bed roll, and he watches as you give him a weak smile.

“Hey fangs.” you manage to get out, entering a coughing fit shortly after. Your smile almost fades when you notice how scared Astarion looks. It isn’t like him to be so worried. You don’t like seeing him like that so you whisper. “It’s gonna be okay-” And gods does it infuriate Astarion that you’re still trying to help others, help him, when you’re basically dying by his side. So he snaps a bit.

“And how do you know that?” He bites at you, pain and anger in his voice. You flinch a bit, letting a silence take over for a second. You slowly reach out to grab his shaking hand, your grip so weak. “Just trust me.”

He sits by your side, barking orders at everyone else- demanding someone heal you. He’s a bit of a prick as Shadowheart kneels down to tend to your wounds. He seems so angry, but everyone can see the way he’s clinging to your hand. Everyone knows what’s going on. And after you’re healed, and left to recover, he stays by your side. 

When the rest of the camp is asleep, he gently pushes your hair out of your face while looking you over. He’s just now realized how hard he’s fallen. While you’re protecting everyone else someone has to protect you. He may as well be that person.

[domoriu]

perv bsf!bonedo

req - could you imagine bonedo as your bestfriend and theyre lowk freaky and a perv for you

warnings: the boys are kinda (really) icky, 18+ mdni !! panty stealing/sniffing, non consented recording, manipulation? idk… also ty @tsandoll for helping me w some of these 🫶🏽 the rest of the members under the cut !! <3

sungho

super subtle about it

youd never guess he was so pervy

everyone else around you guys would definitely know sungho had some sort of crush on you, but you’re oblivious to it and think its just him being a gentleman and good friend

buys you whatever you want, will even buy you clothes if you talk about needing some new outfits. ends up dressing you up the way he likes and gets turned on seeing you in the outfits he bought for you

“do you think this looks good?” and he’s nodding and trying his best to not pop a boner in front of you

you’re at a party? sungho is gonna be your plus one. he doesn’t even care about your complaints about him “scaring the hoes” cuz you get touchy when you get under the influence and he’s going to be there for you and enjoy the next few hours of you clinging to him

he even lowkey sabotages any relationship you could possibly have, tells people you two are dating/fucking and leaves you to wonder why none of the people you’ve been interested in ever pay you any mind.

when he comes to your house he has to fight the urge to sniff all of your clothes and your sheets. you just smell so good to him, and he knows if he gets a hard enough whiff he might get hard.

when he jerks off, he’s imagining its your hand, he’s imagining what your mouth would feel like wrapped around him, and he imagines how you’d look taking his cock.

goes through your messages together with his phone in hand while the other one is wrapped around his cock, playing back the voice messages you’ve sent him before to help him get off. then once he’s cum to the thought of you he’s calling you and talking to you like nothing happened.

riwoo

shy boy. its a little more obvious that he’s a little pervert, and you’re using that to your advantage.

he’s acting really innocent but he knows exactly what he’s doing. he just might be a little clumsy with it, which is ultimately how you figured out his perv agenda.

gets hard so fast, and you constantly touching him doesn’t help his case at all

you invite him over, he’s running to your bathroom to quickly jerk off. he tries to be quiet, but he fails miserably.

“riwoo? are you okay in there?” you’re smirking behind the door and he doesn’t even realize how obvious it is that he’s in there getting himself off, and by the way he stutters a weak “y-yeah im fine!” you know exactly what he’s doing.

he’s a bed/pillow humper. when you two have sleepovers, and you fall asleep before him, he’s putting a pillow over his dick and softly thrusting into it, even sometimes he’ll do that when you’re awake, just really slowly and subtly so you dont notice. but when you’re asleep, he’s more shameless. eagerly humping the pillow or even humping the mattress while he stares at your sleeping body.

sometimes he’ll just jerk off as fast as he can, staring at your figure while you sleep. he’s edging himself, each time your body twitches or you turn in your sleep he stops touching himself, so close to cumming but he doesn’t want to get caught. he cums quick the nights you wear something loose or something more revealing, because he can move the fabric to see exactly what he needs to get to his climax.

whatever he does while you’re asleep you’re not aware of, but you know that you catch him staring a little too hard at your cleavage sometimes or catch him looking at your ass

touchy with you and he tries to say its just friendly touching, but no friend keeps their hand right at the bottom of their friends back before the curve of their ass, or rests their hands or head on their friends tits when they watch movies.

jaehyun

a little shameless about it, but he’s always scared out of his mind that you’ll find him gross

the flirting he does with you is a bit more flirty than his usual, sometimes leaving you flustered but you mask it well.

“a little kissing never hurt a friendship” while he looks at you with his big puppy eyes. all you can do is stare at him and laugh because no way he’s serious.

“jaehyun… you’re staring at my tits again” “sorry! sorry… they’re just… so nice…” and he’s absolutely not sorry

dirty little panty sniffer. super scared of getting caught though, but he ends up snitching on himself

“definitely wasnt going through your stuff while you were in the bathroom” no one accused you of doing that but if you say so…

touchy as fuck. like youve never met someone as touchy as jaehyun. and you know he means no harm, so you let him cop a feel from time to time

back to the panty sniffing, also a pillow humper. will steal a different pair of your panties each week, ruin them completely and then return them like nothing happened (he’ll wash them first of course, he doesn’t want to get caught)

he even knows about the box you keep in your bedside drawer, the one with your toys in it. jerks off to the thought of you fucking yourself open with your dildo, wishes that he could be the one fucking you instead. wishes he could press your vibrator on your clit while he stretches you out on his cock.

taesan

also a shy perv

but he’s a lot bolder than youd think

thinks with his dick… once his dick twitches his mind goes blank

since he’s tall, he’s definitely using this to his advantage. its a lot easier for him to stare down your shirt with this angle

he might get a little bold sometimes and take a pic under your skirt

has a whole folder of “off guard” photos of you, every time he takes one you’re trying to grab his phone to see the pic but he refuses, telling you that its for his eyes only and that youll try to delete them - whole time he had taken various panty shots and other body pics

steals your panties, goes through your clothes bin and sniffs them until he feels dizzy and his cock is straining in his pants.

he tries to be subtle about everything and he’s mostly successful, never catching him doing anything out of the ordinary and anything he asks you to do for him doesn’t seem too off putting

if you’re complaining to him about a guy you’ve been talking to, he’s asking you what they do that gives you the ick and what they do that makes you like them a little more

he makes sure you’re comfortable with him always, there’s never been tmi between the both of you so you feel comfortable telling him about your sex stories - he listens super intensely, and at night he’s humping his mattress at the thought of fucking you just the way you like, because he knows he’d be better than any of the guys youve been fucking

he’s also cumming loudly with your name leaving his lips repeatedly. he wishes he could send you a pic of his stomach covered in his cum and tell you that you’re the reason he came so much

having trouble deciding what type of revealing pics to send to a guy? taesan is telling you that you should send it to him first, so he can tell you from a guys perspective if its good, and will definitely ask you for multiple pictures for “options”

he couldn’t care less what you sent to someone else, as long as he always got access to the pics first and he was definitely going to be jerking off to them later.

leehan

another shameless perv… but he’s really shameless - he’s touchy, he compliments you, he even purposely tries to get you flustered

once he gets the reaction he wants out of you he’s just laughing, and he’ll go back to doing the same thing over and over

lets you believe he’s just joking around with you, even though he’s so serious

“can i eat you out as a friend?” “leehan stop, you play around too much” and there was absolutely no hint of joking around in his voice

whenever you stay over at his place he tells you that you can leave your old clothes with him, that he’ll wash them for you so you have clothes when you come over

before he washes them he’s definitely jerking off with your panties, he might even put them in his mouth cuz he’s a sick freak like that….

and whenever you two are on the phone he’s most likely going to jerk off to the sound of your voice

“leehan, are you okay?” “m’fine, just keep telling me about your day” and he has to mute his mic when he cums - might be a little bold and let you hear it

with him being touchy, anyone would think you were a couple with how comfortable he was touching you however he pleased - seriously, why was he gripping your ass in the middle of the store?

pet names!! darling, princess, he’ll even call you a good girl sometimes just to gauge your reaction. might ask you to grab something for him and he’s like “such good girl for me” and you’re left feeling hot all over and confused about your feelings (even if leehan was insanely straightforward)

[yourlittlebunnyy]

tw: size kink, bit of dacryphilia, overall this is nastyyy

something about having you under him, squirming and helpless, makes azriel go feral.

it's the way you look so small compared to him, the way you are incapable of doing anything because he's just too strong and you can't fight back even if you want to.

the fact is, that no matter what size you are, he is big. all those hours passed in the illyrian camps training pay off. his hand alone could cover a good part of your back. and his cock... it's a struggle everytime, but oh man if he doesn't take pleasure in seeing you struggling.

the first time you two fucked, he had to strech you out with his fingers first. and when he saw how much you struggled with just one of his fingers, he knew it was going to be a tight fit. your walls barely capable of fitting one single finger, he couldn’t imagine how you could have taken his cock, but you did. you take it like a good girl every time.

"you can take it, baby. yeah..." he groans. "you can fucking take it. just like that..." the room is filled with the thick smell of sex, your little cries overpower the sound of skin against skin. you might almost feel embarrassed by the sounds coming out of your lips, but azriel's cock is fucking you so well it sends your brain to mush. zero thoughts behind your pretty eyes.

and azriel loves fucking you. loves watching as your face scrunches in a mixture of pain and pleasure, his cock stretching you out, breaking you in an half. he mutters praises under his breath, his eyes fixated on your tummy that bulges with every thrust, the line of his cock visible through your skin. "look at us, baby. fuck... look at us." he moans, forcing you to look at where your bodies meet. pretty tears stream down your eyes, overstimulation kicking in. you're so full you can feel him in your stomach.

he watches in wonder, completely intoxicated by you and amazed by how much of him you can take.

azriel is addicted to the power he has over you, too. the way he could throw you around like a toy, holding you in place just how he likes.

"c'mon baby, just a little more..." he whispers, supporting you with those strong arms. your back touches his chest, you can feel the wild rhythm of his heart against your back. your legs tremble, exhausted. "give me one more, just one more... i promise."

every time he says something, even tho your head is disconnected, your body can somehow still register his words, your walls clenching automatically around his girth, making him groan.

his hand presses against your tummy, feeling the bulge makes him twitch inside of you. the pressure causes his cock the hit even deeper, hitting spots that make you see stars. "keep clenching around my cock, sweet girl." you sniff, little incoherent prayers fall from your lips. you don't even know what you're begging for. "gods, gonna ruin you for everyone else. you're fucking mine."

main masterlist - azriel masterlist

[nigtmarcz]

⎯⎯ bf!hamzah headcanons

— whenever hamzah plays a game with voice chat, he’ll make you wear his headset and talk into the mic as if you’re playing, just to troll the randoms (and also to show off how good he is at the game)

— if hamzah was streaming on twitch, he'd try to pull you into the frame to show you off, even if you didn’t want to show your face right after waking up

— if hamzah’s tired from editing videos, he’ll beg you to finish it for him. you always say no, so he ends up doing it himself anyway, muttering, "just say you hate me…"

— he’d always refer to you as "mom" or "mama" whenever talking to red and blue

— would send you instagram reels, and you’d hear him laughing from the other room.

"you know you can just show me in person, right?"

— before hamzah would put on his glasses, he’d always make you wear them first and admire how cute you looked in them, even though you had perfect eyesight

— every month, you two would create a new Spotify collab playlist and try to make them have a similar vibe

"okay, why did it transition from bladee to lily chou-chou?"

— you two would definitely have matching discord profile pictures, but not the typical anime couple ones—more like sonic the hedgehog and mario kissing

— he’s not really into pda, but if you were hanging out with friends and everyone stepped out of the room, he’d start hugging you, clinging onto you, and kissing your face everywhere. but if someone walked in, he’d quickly pull away acting all suspicious and shy

— before going to bed, he’d purposely pull all the blankets away and hog them for himself, leading to you two playfully fighting in bed

— his tiktok drafts are filled with you two doing couple trends or dances. you’d usually film them after getting high, then spend hours re-watching them and laughing your ass off

— if he was busy for the day, he'd text you every time he was doing something

"filming right now!"

"gonna get some food you want anything babe?"

"taking a massive shit rn.."

— you trained him to be the perfect photographer for you. even though him recording himself is his job, this man still has no clue how to take pictures for anyone else

— when you guys go shopping, hamzah actually pays attention and helps you pick things out

"do you think this top is cute babe?"

"ehh.. i like this one better."

— he’d always put you onto new music and give you the artist's backstory, sharing all the little details about them

— if either blue or red was laying on your lap, hamzah would playfully snatch them away from you

"don't touch my kid"

"you mean OUR kid??"

— he would always mention you during the podcast but in the most out of pocket way.

"yeah y/n loves to smell my farts. that's what i think true love is."

"dude? what are you saying?"

[unluckiestmember]

how abt headcanons for the arcane women on a beach date? :0 feel free to add/remove anyone ^^

Coming right up!

Arcane X Beach Date with Reader!

Characters: Powder/Jinx, Violet "Vi", Caitlyn Kiramman, Ekko, Viktor, Jayce Talis, Mel Medarda, Sevika, Ran and Vander

Warning: Some slight suggestive themes and mild cursing. But pretty much SFW.

A/N: Aww, summer is practically over! I hope you guys had fun this summer and stayed safe! Whatever is next in the future, I hope we all have a great time and look forward to the rest of 2024! We only got three more months until Season Two guys, I know we can do it even if it feels so far. So let's hang in there!

Powder/Jinx

“Hey, hurry up and look over here, toots! I’m about to pull off the biggest cannonball!... Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine- Now watch me!”

At the beach, Jinx is absolutely going to do everything under the sun, whether it be legal or illegal! She might not be the best swimmer, but she loves getting in the water, especially jumping in and getting her adrenaline going. And you better expect her to get you involved in a water fight! Just don’t expect her to play fair, girlie has a bunch of mechanisms she can make into weapons for your game and she’s not afraid to use them!

Sand castles are requested and being buried in sand is a must. A date at the beach with the Loose Cannon feels more like a hangout than a lovely day together in the sand, but don’t get it wrong. Jinx loves spending time with you at the beach and will sneak some kisses to your cheek or slam her lips on yours. She’s pretty sure your beach date is probably one of the best days of her life and it’s all thanks to you.

Violet “Vi”

“This is the perfect weather for a nice swim, babe. Hey- Race you to the other side. Last one there is buying ice cream!”

When you invited Violet to a date on the beach, she was more than ready, she was beyond excited! She is a perfect balance between playful and romantic, always flirting with you in regards to your swimsuit and even sneaking some seductive touches along your body. And right when she’s done or is about to kiss you, she’s quick to trick you by running away gleefully waiting for you to catch her or messing with you.

She’s not exactly the best of swimmers, but is willing to learn and get her feet wet just for you. If you both aren’t having fun talking to each other and exploring the beach side by side, then guests of the beach better expect to see a happy couple making out in the sand or getting affectionate. Peering eyes or none, a beach date with Violet is all you could ever ask for and more.

Caitlyn Kiramman

“Ahh, isn’t this absolute bliss, my love-... Did. Did you just splash me? Oh, you’re gonna pay royally for that.”

Caitlyn has been to the beach quite a lot in the summer with her family and always loved spending time on the coast. So when you asked her on a getaway there, she was immediately on board. During your date, she makes sure you are all okay, rubbing sunscreen on you and checking if all your equipment is accounted for. Caitlyn is more on the quieter side, having a picnic in the sand with you or laying in the shade and just catching the breeze.

But do not let this fool you; She can be playful and accept your requests to swim, especially since she’s a pro at it, or just play in general! She’ll always be open to exploring underwater with you or even making some sand castles together! When it’s time to go, Caitlyn almost doesn’t want to leave, but at least she has a sweet memory and new tradition to share with you.

Ekko

“You’re right, we all needed this vacation. Everyone’s happy and you’re happy, so I’m fine. Wanna take a swim with the others?”

Ekko has never been to the beach before. He’s only heard stories from Pilties that passed by the undercity and seen pictures of it, but has never set foot on one, and neither has the Firelights. Whenever he needed a swim or a getaway, he would just find a local lake or river to satisfy him and everyone else’s needs. So you can imagine his surprise when you set up a little vacation for him and his allies on the coast!

The leader of the firelights is beyond happy the entire time you’re by his side and showing off the beach to the firelights, engaging in small games of volleyball or tag with the young ones. Of course it’s still a date for you two, so he’s sure to give you all the love and care you could ask for when the kids or Scar aren’t taking up you two’s time. But even then, it is all in all a fun experience to share, whether alone or with the freedom fighters.

Viktor

“Aye! How is the water so cold? Maybe you should swim on without me… Don’t worry, I’ll keep watch-. H-Hey! Fine, I’ll join you, let’s just take it slow.”

It had been years since Viktor had stepped on a beach before you asked him on a date there. The once feeling of sand in his feet made him raise an eyebrow and the wind touching his skin had him a bit nervous with his body out. From the looks of it, you were sure at first that this would be a hard time to enjoy together…

But after a while and a bit of convincing to let loose with some encouragement, the scientist finally let loose a little and enjoyed all of the beach with you. He may not be able to swim, but walking in the water, holding your hand and feeling the small waves crash into his ankles? Now that was a piece of absolute heaven. And exploring uncharted territories with you to find the most beautiful of caves was beyond delightful. He would have to remind himself to come to the beach with you more often.

Jayce Talis

“What’s up? Are you admiring my muscles?... If you’re looking at them dry, I can’t wait to see how you’ll look at them wet. Now come on in!”

All it took was one date to find out that Jayce practically belonged on the beach with you! There he acted like such an excited child in his trunks running immediately into the water with your hand in his to feel the waves wash over you two. Don’t expect to do much outside of swimming unless you need something from your personal belongings, and even then Jayce will go grab it for you and head straight back in!

He isn’t much of a goofball swimming with you outside of small moments of teasing, but he does get quite handsy and flirtatious, holding your waist and pulling you close to kiss you. Everyone can practically put together that you are his with how affectionate he is around you. And he doesn’t care either because he doesn’t mind putting you on the pedestal where you belong. It’s a chill date, but a nice date regardless.

Mel Medarda

“Mmm, we needed this, sweetheart. A day away from the nagging, pointless fighting and having to meet expectations? It’s absolutely worth it.”

A beach date with Mel has got to be one of the calmest dates you’ll ever have in your life. Mel isn’t much of a swimmer, preferring to just walk down the coast with you. But even then, she spends most of her time sunbathing and simply taking in the ambiance around the both of you in relaxation. For some it may be boring, but for her just being near you and practically doing nothing is heavenly.

Of course she won’t be a prude though. Sometimes she’ll take a minute and collect seashells to take home with her as souvenirs. And if you do want to swim around or really utilize the beach, she will let you and simply watch you having fun lovingly from the sidelines. That is unless you want her to join you, then just ask and she’ll be right by your side enjoying every second with you.

Sevika

“Ran is challenging me to volleyball and I was wondering if you’d want to be my partner?... Thanks babydoll- Hey, Ran! Get ready to get your ass kicked!”

Sevika doesn’t go to the beach unless it’s with a group of friends. Only then with them and you as company is she gonna have the time of her life! Outside of work and in the sand, the muscular woman is a lot more relaxed and a bit playful with everyone, including yourself. She’ll do whatever you’d like as long as it means you both are enjoying yourself.

Want to play a few games? She’s all for it. Want to just kick back and take in the sun and the waves? She’s cool with that too! Nothing is off limits for the Right Hand of Zaun, and I mean nothing. Because if you feel it’s not exactly a date, then Sevika has no problem taking you somewhere a bit more secluded and showing you a great time~. At the end of the day, you’re sure to look back on your time with your girlfriend at the beach fondly and can’t wait for the next one!

Vander

“We should try and make this a tradition. You, me and the kids, come down to the beach every summer. They’d look forward to it every year. And so will I…”

Everytime you and Vander go to the beach, it is usually with the kids as an annual family outing. Yeah, the both of you have to babysit a bit and deal with the mindless teasing of the sumprats when you both get intimate, but you enjoy yourselves regardless. You love when the Hound of the Undercity plays tag with his adopted children, even dragging you in for the ride and getting a good adrenaline kick from it all.

You two always leave the beach excited for the next time around the following year with tired kids needing to be laid down. He makes sure to let you know how grateful he was to spend time with you and everyone else, nuzzling into you and whispering how much he loves you. Though you miss those days, you never broke that tradition, even when the world fell apart. No matter what, you always come back every summer to the beach to keep the memory alive…

If you got any requests for Arcane or X-Men '97, send them my way!

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, stay hydrated and have a good day! <3

[midnite-c6]

i have so many different au ideas with namgyu and thanos

imagine frontman!namgyu and thanos (imagine there can be two) and timid!reader (who won a game before but wanted to stop it like Gi-hun)

frontman!namgyu and thanos who joins the game again to see their timid!reader, seeing how you’re just as shy as you were when you first played.

frontman!namgyu and thanos know you can protect yourself but they can’t help but be protective especially after seeing how shy you still are

ong the manipulation AND the mocking. foaming at the mouth, drooling. offtopic: 001 was hot asf, but this aint abt him.

frontman!thanos & nam-gyu x timid!reader imagine!! warnings: 18+, DARK content, noncon, sa, manipulation (please read at ur own risk guys D: !!!!)

god they were definitely laughing to themselves to see you try again in stopping their games, i mean, who tf r u anyway, but damn were you so cute for trying. like.. watching you last time, neither of them expected you to win, but theyre def pleased you did! and now that you joined again.. they decided to play with you and your feelings! omg you'll be saying your masterplan and they'd nod so sweetly like they trust you with all their heart :< & when you tell them to vote X, they vote X! you just can't help but be grateful since the two "sweetest" boys who seem pretty strong are on your team, (they're not, but they're definitely tag-teaming you)

ohhh you're so glad that there were truly good people in the world, or you were just too naive..and dumb.. so dumb for trusting them, trusting them SO much to let them give you one last sweet goodbye before fighting the guards during lights out..

nam-gyu wraps his arms around your waist securely, nuzzling against the crook of your neck, your back tightly pressed against his chest. thanos is on watch duty since you suggested that one person should always stay awake during lights out, they cleverly figured that one of them should keep you eeeeextra safe, and who are you to really decline the offer?

nsfw below!!-> (⁠っ⁠˘⁠з⁠(⁠˘⁠⌣⁠˘⁠ ⁠).

his warm breath tickles the exposed skin of your neck. he had always been the more 'physical' one from the two, he loves to just touch you everywhere, and you let him, i mean he's just so caring, and his past is so tragic you can't help but feel bad :<. his hand moves from your waist to your stomach, before going higher to lightly graze your chest. you squirm underneath his touch, lightly moving his hand, thinking it wasn't intentional. a few minutes later,, he'd move his hand again, this time underneath your shirt, lightly squeezing your chest, making you go wide awake! "nam-gyu.." "yeah?.." he whispers sleepily, "..i can't sleep, miss." he'd continue to tease your nipples, making them harden by his rough fingers :< "w..why are you touching me there?" you whispered so purely, you're gonna be the death of him, he hums, "why..? do you want me to touch you somewhere else?" you couldn't help but whine from the painful feeling, "n-nam-gyu.." he shushes you, "it's okay.. i'm gonna miss you. once we defeat whoever's behind these games, we might not see eachother again.." his hand quickly moved underneath your pants, slipping easily past the waistband of your panties, "but.. w.. we'll definitely see eachother again.." he groans "do you not want this?" "u-uhm.." you can't reply, distracted by his pointer finger hastily tickling your sensitive bud or how your skin feels warmer and warmer by his hot breath touching your skin everytime he exhales. "i just want to thank you, for guiding us, keeping everyone alive y'know?" you still couldn't reply. "its like..." his lips brush your skin, "..you are an angel sent from above." how could you decline??

"time's up bro- oh, shit, you actually did it." thanos looked in awe, but he'd quickly pull at player 124's jacket and take him away off of you, "fuck you." nam-gyu only replied as thanos takes his spot. he'd make you face him, seeing a "betrayed" look on your face. "oh what's wrong, baby..?" he pouted, a hand gently cupping your face. you'd stare right into his blue eyes. "don't.. don't worry, we're just both scared, like you.." you furrow your brows, what does he mean?? "i mean.. there's a chance we die tomorrow.. baby, i'll forever forget not getting a taste of you, you understand, right?" you nodded, only because you were being nice, not because you understood. he smiled.

"this'll be fast, angel." you were such an angel. really.

sorry i love nam-gyu somuch guys sorrh GETTING THRU MY DRAFTS ONE BY ONE!! WOOO!! thanos x namgyusgf!reader next!! :^

[holdmytesseract]

dad-to-be!Daryl absolutely pampering reader. She's just started experiencing Braxton Hicks contractions and she's scared about the real deal happening soon, so Daryl takes it upon himself to help her relieve some stress. Bathing her, making her food—or, well, trying to—painting her nails with some nail polish he got from Maggie or someone, etc. just sweet Daryl all around.

Love you if you write this, love you if you don't! Don't feel pressured at all, love 💜

In This Together

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Summary: Starting to experience Braxton Hicks, your archer is more than adamant to be by your side.

Warnings: usual TWD stuff? fluff, pregnancy stuff, mentions of a injury and a fight, bit angst, protective!Daryl

Set in the beginning of Season 9!

Word Count: 3,3k

a/n: Here we are. Dad-to-be!Daryl! 🥰

Thank you SO much for sending me this, @dixons-sunshine ! I LOVED writing it! 🧡 I hope you don't mind that I, uh, drifted 'off-topic' a bit. The writing department in my brain just has its own mind... 🫣

EoH Masterlist °☆• Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

"So... This is nothing I have to be afraid of?" You asked hesitatingly; voice still thick with concern. Siddiq gave you a bright smile, which was a clear attempt to nip your worries in the bud. "No, Y/N, absolutely not. It's perfectly normal and important to experience Braxton Hicks. And besides it's an indication that my estimations are correct. You're about twenty-eight weeks along now, I'd say - in time frame for that to happen." You nodded; finding Siddiq's reassuring words truly helpful. "O-Okay... But there's nothing I can do about it, right?" "No, sorry. You just have to go through them." You gave the doctor another nod, "Alright..." and moved to sit up on the makeshift examination table; Siddiq immediately offering you a hand to help you up - which you gladly took. "Thanks." The man smiled at you once more and stood to his feet as well; placing a hand on your shoulder.

"Just remember, it's important for your body. It's practice." "Yeah," you answered; rubbing the back of your neck. "Won't change that Daryl's gonna be worried sick... Dunno if he knows what Braxton Hicks are." Siddiq chuckled; knowing exactly what you meant. He got to know the archer way better the past months, and knew what he was 'capable' of...

"Explain it to him like I did to you. He'll understand." "Mhm, yeah, gotta try." You offered the man opposite you a last smile, patting your thigh to gain the attention of your furry, four-legged friend and headed for the door; "Thanks, Siddiq!" Dog following close behind. "Sure thing, Y/N." The doctor watched you leave, before he returned to his work.

You made your way slowly back to the basement apartment you and the archer shared. It took you about two times longer now to head from the infirmary back home; due to the pregnancy and its side effects. Your feet were swollen and hurting, just like your back now and then. It could be quite frustrating from time to time, especially when your husband wasn't around to give you endless foot rubs and massages - just like at the moment. Daryl was stationed and working at the bridge since almost two weeks now... You missed him - a lot. The daily conversations over the walkie-talkie weren't just enough anymore.

Knowing he'd be away for at least a month, he left Dog with you; trusting the faithful canine to keep you safe. He did and seemed to understand exactly what his dad asked him to do. Dog was like glued to your side; never leaving. You thought it was adorable and utterly precious.

Closing the door of the basement behind yourself and Dog, you grabbed the walkie-talkie and plopped down on the sofa with a sigh. Since the sun had started to sink, you hoped that Daryl could spare some time for you now to talk. Sure, he always did, but you hated to keep him from important things. After all, he was an important figure in this whole construction Rick and everyone else had built over the years. Daryl wasn't 'just' a right-hand-man anymore... He was a leader - and you weren't just talking about the Sanctuary.

"Daryl?" You pressed the button of the radio and called out his name, before letting go of said button again; waiting for an answer. After a few moments of silence, you tried again. "Dar? You here?"

It took the archer another few moments to answer. "Yeah, 'm here," his slightly static voice suddenly sounded from the small device in your hands; giving you a little scare. "Sorry, sunshine. Been wantin' ta get away from that bridge first 'n into my tent." He paused for a short moment.

"Everything a'right with ya two?"

You smiled; already loving to hear his voice. Dog's ears perked up as well, before he quickly joined you on the sofa and snuggled against your left leg; head resting on your thigh. Your free hand immediately went to give the canine some well-deserved head scratches.

"Hey, baby. Yeah, we're good; just missing you..." An adorable grunt could be heard from the other end. "Don get me started on how much 'm missin' my girls."

Your heart clenched at his words; bottom lip wobbling dangerously. What you would give to curl up in his arms now...

Somewhat between a sob and a laugh was escaping your lips. "Baby, you gotta stop that, or you're gonna make me cry, what in return in going to make our munchkin even more sad." "Even more sad? Whaddaya mean?" Daryl asked; his attention falling on his unborn child in concern. You smiled sadly and started to absentmindedly caress your baby bump; letting go of Dog, who was dozing peacefully.

"She's very unsettled and... antsy. I can feel it. She kicks more than usually a-and well... I think it's because she misses her daddy. She's used to hear your voice, you know, and now it's not there. Over the radio isn't the real thing..."

All you could hear for quite a few moments from 'the other end of the line' was silence. You frowned and just opened your mouth to say something, when you heard his voice again. "'M comin' home," Daryl stated. Your eyes widened. That wasn't your intention... You knew that he had to stay. Rick needed him there, but his words were also so tempting... And the fact that he was willing to drop everything just to drive back to Alexandria in order to calm his unborn daughter caused your ovaries to explode.

But you knew better, unfortunately.

"No, Daryl. You gotta stay. Rick needs you." He scoffed. "But our munchkin needs me more..." Well, damn. That was actually the truth. Valid point. "I know, baby, but I got it, okay? It's only two more weeks..." "Yeah, 's two weeks too much," he grumbled in return. "I know, but look... After that is done you won't have to leave us again until the birth. Rick promised, remember?" Daryl sighed; remembering his brother's words.

You were sure you had convinced him with that; already celebrating your victory over his stubbornness internally, when your body decided to throw a wrench in the works... Hitting you with a Braxton Hicks contraction.

Of course, you didn't see it coming - how could you? And therefore left a loud hiss your lips, followed by a small, yet painful cry, before you were even able to stop it.

You knew right away that you were screwed now. That wasn't how you planned to tell him... Fuck.

"Y/N?!" His panicked voice instantly urged to your ears. And Daryl wasn't the only one worrying... Dog had woken from his sleep by your cry; ears perked. He was wincing and repeatedly nudging you with his wet snout.

"Y/N!" "I-I'm here, Daryl," you radioed back as soon as the mild contraction subsided. Taking a deep breath, your free hand returned to the canine curled up against your side; petting his fur. "I'm okay, Dog, I'm okay..." You reassured Daryl's animal companion.

"Wha' wrong?! Are ya in pain?! Please talk ta me, woman!" You swallowed; redirecting your attention back to your worried husband. "I'm good, don't worry. It's just... I, uh, started having Braxton Hicks..." "Braxton wha'?" "Braxton Hicks... Those are, um, mild contractions. It's something that occurs between the twentieth and thirty-fifth week of pregnancy. My body is, uh, practising for the birth," you explained; biting your lip, before quickly adding: "Siddiq says it's a good thing a-and perfectly normal."

There was silence on the other end for a long moment, before the click-clacking sound of the little device in your hand announced Daryl's voice again. "'M comin' home," he stated once more; now drop-dead serious. "Packin' my stuff right now."

Damnit...

"Baby..." "Nah. Ya ain't talkin' me outta this, Y/N. Yer in pain, havin' fuckin' contractions! 'M comin' home." You sighed; knowing that starting yet another 'discussion' would be most likely fruitless. You couldn't stop him. Not again. "Imma talk ta Rick first thing in the mornin' 'n leave as soon as I can." "I won't win another argument, will I?" "Nah, ya ain't."

You sighed again, but ultimately gave in. "Alright... I'll see you tomorrow then... Be safe and drive carefully, yes?" "Of course, sunshine. Don worry 'bout me. You stay safe, ya hear me?" "Promise." "Good. I love ya. Both 'a ya." "We love you, too."

With yet another sigh, you put the walkie-talkie aside; placing it on the small coffee table in front of you. You didn't want Daryl to cut this 'mission' short just because of a few cramps, but on the other hand, you couldn't deny that you looked forward now to see him again. Two weeks felt like ages.

You smiled; cupping your baby bump once more. "You heard that, munchkin? Daddy's coming home tomorrow."

Daryl had a hard time sleeping that night - naturally. He was way too worried, and therefore just decided to spend the rest of the night on watch; waiting for the sun to rise.

Once the other people in the camp had started their day as well and the place was literally bustling with members of all the various communities, the archer sought out his brother...

"Rick." Said man was currently talking to Cindy and Beatrice from Oceanside as Daryl approached. The former policeman's eyes travelled shortly to Daryl, before he ended his conversation with the two women and shifted his attention. Cindy and Beatrice passed Daryl by; giving the archer a nod, which he answered with a curt jut of his head.

"Mornin'," Rick greeted his brother; hands on his hips. "You good?" The leader was indirectly referring to the last remains of a fight his friend had with Justin - a Savior, few days prior. Daryl had clearly won that argument, but a very prominent cut above his upper lip was the price he had to pay.

The archer put Rick off; "'M fine." quickly dismissing the topic. "But we gotta talk." Rick nodded and gestured at the huge tent only a few yards away, in which everything else got usually discussed as well. Wordlessly, Daryl followed him; stepping through the flaps of the dark green tent.

"I gotta go back home." He didn't beat around the bush. Why should he? "Y/N's experiencin' those... fake contractions, 'n the baby's very restless; givin' 'er a hard time as well. She needs me," Daryl explained; biting the inside of his bottom lip. "I know ya need me 'ere too, 'n 'm sorry, but-" "Y/N and the baby are your priority, I know," Rick interrupted the archer and gave him a smile. "As it should be, Daryl. They're your family. Go home. We got this." He nodded; head lowered. "Thanks, man." Rick smiled once more and gave his brother a pat on the shoulder. "Be safe, yeah?" "Ya too."

Not even ten minutes later was Daryl kneeling beside his bike to strap his crossbow on the vehicle; ready to leave. The camp was bustling with people, and yet found him a specific pair of eyes...

"You're leaving?" Carol asked as she came to stand beside him; arms crossed over her chest. "Without saying goodbye? Shame on you." Daryl looked up, almost apologetically. "Yeah, 'm leavin'. Y/N needs me," he explained; getting to his feet. "But I was gonna say goodbye. I ain't jus' leavin' ya." A frown carved itself immediately in the woman's forehead. "Is everything alright? Y/N and the baby are fine, right?" The archer nodded. "Yeah, jus' some fake contractions 's all, but I wanna help 'er through this. 'Sides the lil' munchkin 's missin' me," he explained; shrugging his shoulders and moving to mount his bike.

Carol gave him a cheeky, yet happy smile. "I think you're the happiest I have ever seen you, you know that? It's good, pookie." "Pf," Daryl scoffed and grunted; couldn't stop his cheeks from reddening. "Stop." His best friend smiled even brighter. "No, 'cause it is a good thing. You deserve this. To be happy. You do." The smile he gave Carol then was nothing but sincere. He wasn't a man of much words, but the woman knew, of course.

Daryl started the engine and exchanged a last look with his best friend, before he drove off.

Since you knew that Daryl was returning sometime this morning, you decided to take on Michonne's watch. It took you all the convincing skills you had, but in the end gave your friend in. Some fresh air was always a good thing, right? And all you wanted was to see your husband approaching safely the gates.

You didn't know exactly how much time had passed, but you were pretty sure it had been a few hours, until you heard that familiar sound of an approaching motorcycle. Standing up from the comfortable camping chair Michonne had gotten up on the wooden tower only for you, you watched with a smile how Daryl drove up to the gates - which got immediately opened for him. The archer had seen you, of course. A short eye contact was enough to display the feelings exploding within the both of you. Especially happiness and love.

Well, it had been two long weeks...

Your husband drove past the gates; immediately turning off the engine and dismounting his beloved vehicle, while you moved to slowly climb down the wooden ladder - step after step. You were carrying precious cargo, after all. About halfway down, you suddenly felt two big palms settling firmly on your hips. "Careful, sunshine," the archer's deep, smokey voice urged to your ears. You smiled; his touch and voice sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. Planting both feet firmly on the ground again, you immediately turned to hug the man as tight as your baby bump allowed.

"Daryl...," you breathed; inhaling his scent and fighting the tears - kudos to your hormones. "Hey, sweetheart." He held you just as firm, before he pulled back to gaze concerningly in your eyes. "Wha' were ya doin' up there?" He nodded at the watch tower. "Waiting for you, of course." Daryl grunted in clear dislike. "Ya shouldn't be up there. 'S dangerous. 'Specially alone."

You appreciated and treasured his protectiveness, but in that very moment was the watch tower the last thing you thought about.

Rolling your eyes with a smile, you cupped your husband's cheek. "Shut up and kiss me." Daryl still wasn't entirely comfortable of displaying affection in public, even after all those years - what you didn't mind, of course, but in that very moment, he didn't give a fuck. The longing and the ache in his heart after having to be away from you for so long was taking over.

He grunted in fake annoyance, before he dipped his head to meet your lips halfway in a deep, longing kiss. "I missed you so much, Dar," you whispered against his lips and bestowed another sweet, short kiss upon them. "Missed ya, too, sunshine." You smiled; his cheeks still cupped by your hands, as your eyes roamed his handsome face. But your happy expression got quickly replaced by a frown as you noticed the small injury above his lips.

"Where did you get that cut, baby?" Daryl shook his head; hands squeezing your hips in a reassuring manner. "'S nothing, sweetheart. Jus' got in a fight a few days ago 's all." Your eyes darkened. "One of the Saviors?" He nodded. "Justin. He was bein' an asshole. Couldn't let tha' slip." You sighed; nodding. "Does it hurt?" Concern flamed up within you once again. "Nah. Not anymore."

You wanted to answer him, but another cramp shot through your lower abdomen; causing you to grimace. Daryl's grip tightened again on an instant. "Contraction?" "Y-Yeah..." You confirmed; luckily feeling the period cramp like pain subsiding again. "C'mon, sunshine. Let's getcha back home. 'M here fer ya two now. Ain't gonna leave again."

You weren't the only one being happy about Daryl's return. Dog was happy too; almost taking the bulky man off his feet with the force he threw himself on him; paws connecting with Daryl's broad chest. You only watched with a smile; hands supporting your baby bump.

Speaking of... The tiny girl living in your womb was ecstatic to hear her father's voice again. You could feel it. Once you had cuddled up with Daryl on the sofa, to catch up on the lost time of physical contact and conversations, you felt her move; recognising Daryl's voice and seemingly that the hands around her home weren't yours as well... Daryl was about to tell you about working at the bridge, when a tiny foot connected with the palm of his hand. "Was tha'...?" You giggled; nodding. "A foot, yep. She got super active within the last hour. She knows her daddy is back. Told you she missed you." A breathless laugh left your husband's mouth; his thumbs starting to caress the clothed skin of your stomach. "Hey in there, lil' munchkin. I missed ya too, ya know."

He received another strong kick in return.

"She's got bigger 'n stronger. I can tell." "Yeah? You think so?" You asked; turning your head to gaze at the archer over your shoulder. "Yeah. Can feel it. 'S different." You just smiled at him; loving how observing he was and cuddled further into his arms; enjoying every second of your reunion.

"Daryl?" You asked after a few minutes of pleasant silence. "Yeah?" You swallowed; picking at your nails. "Those Braxton Hicks I had the past days... They kinda, uh, gave me the creeps a little bit. I-I mean... I know now that the birth isn't very far away and that the real contractions will be way worse. That's... scaring." The archer nodded; biting the inside of his lower lip. "'M sorry 'bout that, sunshine.... Wish I could take tha' fear away, but... 'm afraid too. 'M scared of losin' ya or her, or hence even both 'a ya. But we gotta make this somehow, right? We're in this together. You 'n me. I ain't ever leavin' yer side."

To hear that Daryl had his fears as well was weirdly reassuring for you; knowing that you were truly not alone in this - in every aspect.

You laid your hands on top of Daryl's, which were still resting on your baby bump. "W-We gotta make it, yeah. You and me. Together." You felt Daryl nuzzling your neck; his goatee scratching your skin and his chapped lips aiming for a kiss. "Like we always do."

The following days and weeks were spent by the archer to help you through the Braxton Hicks contractions whenever you got hit by one, and through the pregnancy in general, of course. He was even more attentive and protective than in the beginning and was doing everything in his power to take away the stress and make you feel as comfortable as possible - which included pampering you. Endless foot rubs and back massages, running countless baths for you, getting you your latest craving - even in the middle of the night, and of course cooking food for you. The cooking wasn't always successful, but you loved the man for all the effort he put in. Daryl took you on walks around Alexandria regularly as well; making sure you'd get some fresh air. Certainly not outside the walls, but he'd accompany you everywhere you wished inside the walls.

Daryl even agreed on painting your nails, which ended in a mild disaster, but it definitely didn't fail to put a big smile on your face.

And when the tiny miracle inside you finally decided to see the light of the day and Daryl's hand was tightly locked with yours as you went through labour, you knew that everything would be alright, because you got Daryl and Daryl got you.

Tags: @angelwings-crossbowstrings @belitoxx @lou12346789 @fictive-sl0th @marvelcasey05 @loz-3 @mischief-dream @whore4romance @stitchintimefan @bigbaldheadname @making-the-most-0f-it @erebus-et-eigengrau @km-ffluv @0-aubrie0 @sweetz1919 @mikaela-granger @secretsicanthideanymore @dilfdixon @txtttttttttttttt @stiveroon @cakesandtom @mayday2007

[h8aaz]

❝ seething .ᐟ ❞

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 — dean finds out the real reason why you haven't been on a date since the two of you broke up. ۶ৎ

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 — jealousy . angst . ex-bf!dean . fighting (verbal + physical) . confrontation . est. relationship with sam . ۶ৎ

dean winchester had been stalking following you around for years—way beyond your breakup. the split that he had initiated. because he fell out of love with you. because he couldn't commit while holding down the same job you were doing alongside him and his younger brother.

but of course, it was all a lie. he never fell out of love with you, he'd be fucking insane to do that. no, the problem was that he loved you too much. so much that he himself couldn't handle it.

he'd been in love before—but not to this extent.

it was the way his heart physically ached when you were barely a few steps away from him. when he'd practically jump up at the echoes of your voice filling the bunker's empty halls. the silent need to have a hand on you at all times just to remind himself that you were real and you chose him to be with. he'd kiss your skin with a soft tenderness that he'd never shown to another woman before.

he loves you. because he never stopped. even when he scared himself to the point of letting you go. and he continues to live in fear, afraid that you'd find someone else, someone better than him. and he could never allow that.

which is what brings him to yet another bar, watching you slowly nurse a beer in the comfort of a booth across the dimly lit room. he had arrived and sat on a stool about a minute ago, sipping from his own beer bottle while he simply watched. his eyes zeroed in on the way you were absentmindedly tapping your fingers on the sticky dark wood of the table, the beat of the music blaring from the speakers matching your movements.

you were humming along to the lyrics, a sound he had missed so dearly. you'd hum in the mornings while you made him breakfast, always making a healthier meal for sam. you were always so thoughtful and caring. not only looking after him, but his brother, too. and he adored you for it.

but what he didn't adore was the shadow of a man walking up and taking the open spot in front of you, your eyes lighting up when you saw him.

the sight made dean's blood boil. who the fuck was this guy? why were you so excited to see him?

he tried to drown out the chaos that filled the bar, focusing on you and this mystery man. but oh, how he regretted that choice. because the voice he heard, he knew all too well. and he knew the nickname that fell from your lips in the same uncomfortable familiarity.

"sorry i took so long, i was texting dean back."

"aw, it's okay, sammy. no need to apologize."

no. fucking. way.

dean immediately shot out of his seat, grabbing his drink and walking to the other seating areas on his side of the bar, now getting a good head-on view of the two of you. you. his brother. making fucking heart-eyes at each other and giggling at the fact that sam had texted him back about how he was 'gonna keep doing research at the library' and to 'not wait up'.

which was true. dean's phone had vibrated in his pocket mere seconds before sam went back to your booth.

his hearing was now detecting only you and sam's voices, easily blocking out everything and everyone else with no problem.

"he's here, y'know," you took a sip, "dean." you set the bottle back on the table. sam nodded with a sigh, "yeah, i know. he told me he was gonna 'check out the local bar', but i knew he was coming to see you." he replied.

a small grin began to play on your lips, "and that's why you came to see me first?" you teased with a tilt of your head, making him laugh.

"no, baby," he dismissed with a laugh before reaching out for your hand, giving it a light squeeze when you reciprocated the hold. "i came to see you because i love you."

those three words and that stupid petname—oh, it set dean off.

rage quickly filled his veins at the sight of you murmuring the same words back to him, sealing it with a kiss. it was as if his ears had stopped working. the world went quiet except for an irritating buzz in his head. he watched you kiss his brother with the same admiration and excitement that would pool through when you used to kiss him.

sam had held onto your face with his other hand. and you leaned into his touch—nearly melting.

dean couldn't handle this. i mean, how could anyone? his brother was betraying him. you were betraying him. granted, you weren't his anymore. the two of you had every right to do this. but that doesn't make it any less hurtful.

dean felt sick to his stomach, contrasting the butterflies fluttering in yours and sam's. millions of questions ran through his head. the two of you knew he was here, that he'd follow you, but when did you both catch on? well, he wasn't the most subtle about it. he'd lead himself and sam to towns he knew you'd be at—whenever he was sure of it, which was a few times every other month.

but sam? oh, sam knew where you were every. single. time. and he let his own brother fall into a frenzy. all while he was charming you. loving you. just like dean did. hell, he still does.

when did you two even start talking? had the two of you always seen each other romantically? was sam better than him? is this relationship out of spite? or did dean fuck up so badly, that you went to his brother instead?

that was it. it had to be it.

and the guilt and anger began to eat at him.

he turned out of the bar, paying for his unfinished drink beforehand. he made his way to the impala, getting in and driving it across the parking lot to where your car sat. the two of you had intimate moments in his car, but what about you and sam in yours? it was seemingly the only place unless sam snuck all the way to your motel every time.

but god, if that thought didn't kill him. the fact that sam probably got to bend you in the same silly ways he used to, just in the girlier setting of your own vehicle instead of the sweaty-skin-sticking-to-leather of his own.

dean's mind was spinning. he just couldn't believe it. you and sam? after everything between you and himself? and the very messy, very loud breakup in the bunker—that sam had to deescalate from how terrible it was. had he been plotting since then? seeing how horrible his older brother treated you during it, and vowing to be a better man for you?

he scoffed at the thoughts that raced his mind.

sure, he yelled. but you were screaming. for good reason, too. a spontaneous breakup on top of recovering from an extremely difficult and brutal hunt? of course you'd be furious. but he was becoming frantic, erratic. his voice booming against the walls of the bunker, leading all the way to sam's room and alerting him immediately.

the taller and younger winchester had nearly broke dean's door off it's hinges just to get inside the room, panic zooming through his veins as you and dean had nearly never fought, especially like this. and sam had to restraint both of you apart from each other in the—incredibly impossible yet still manageable—chance that the verbal brawl could take a turn for the worst. which was a reach, as dean would never in a million years use his hands against you, and you with him. but sam wasn't taking any chances with the heated argument ahead of him.

but on the contrary, dean wasn't afraid to go at it with his little brother. especially with the current circumstances.

so he got out of his car and made his way over to yours, leaning against the back of it with his arms crossed. waiting.

he was waiting for you and sam to walk out of those doors. he wanted to confront both of you—although he knew he should likely leave you be, knowing he won't make this go as smoothly as he's pretending. he just couldn't sit there after what he saw, he had to say something. had to see you. had to cause a scene. had to punch his brother. just something.

the two of you eventually walked out of the bar, holding hands while matching smiles were plasted on your faces. you were still giggling at something sam had said while his smile faltered, slowly dropping completely at the sight of his brother.

you turned your head and immediately dropped all happiness from your face. what the fuck was he doing on your car?

you thought you had said it in your head, but the flare of dean's nostrils and slight panic in sam's eyes showed that you voiced the angry question out through the dense air.

"what the fuck are you doing with my brother?" dean retorted, trying to suppress his bubbling rage. he then turned to sam, his gaze turning into one more of hurt and sadness. "and you. the hell are you thinking, sammy? goin' around with my ex? kissin' her like i did? doin' shit you watched us do together? i thought we said no more lies." his tone got angrier towards the end, his brows furrowing in frustration.

you squeezed your boyfriend's hand, opening your mouth to speak before he cut in, stopping you from cussing out his brother.

"i'm thinking that you need to go back to the motel, get some rest and clear your head. this isn't gonna go well like this." sam spoke softly yet sternly, trying to deescalate the situation yet again before it could get bad. and dean wasn't having it.

"no. no, i won't." dean got off your car and began to walk closer, "because you lied about research. you lied about not talking to her. you lied about not having a girlfriend." he scoffed, "hell, you probably lied about the damn case we're on!" he threw his arms out while you rolled your eyes.

"you don't need to know if sam has a girlfriend or not. especially when you hid me from him for almost two damn years, dean!" you shouted, sam holding you back from charging at the older winchester.

"that was to protect you!" dean pointed a finger. "protect me from what?! sam?!" you scoffed as your boyfriend in question gently rubbed your back. "you weren't trying to protect her from me, dean. you were just scared she'd leave you for me." sam spoke.

and that was the catalyst that sent dean off the edge.

he charged at his brother, sam pushing you out of the way. dean threw a punch, sam dodged it smoothly. sam landed a hit to the side of dean's face, making dean swing back.

you were screaming at them to stop. your voice was cracking, quickly going hoarse from the strain of your vocal chords. you were panicking, and they were trying to kill each other. sounds of attacks being successful, clothes rustling, pained and furious grunts, some blood here and there, and the sheer terror in your tone filled the parking lot.

"sam! sammy!" you wailed, tears spilling down your face. "dean! dean, please!" you pleaded. you ran up to the heaving, fighting winchesters, sweat and blood mixed on their skin. you used all of your strength to pull whoever was on top off the other, the task being difficult as they were now rolling on the ground. you eventually got sam off of dean, a sigh of relief from successfully stopping the flying punches.

"you okay, sammy?" you asked your boyfriend, sucking in a breath through your teeth at the bruise and gash on his face. "m'fine, honey." he huffed, his broad chest puffing up and down in time with his breathing. sam stared at his beaten older brother, trying to get up to fight him more.

"enough, dean!" you held a hand out in his direction. "no," dean spit out some blood as he stood up, "no, this isn't over. you're supposed to be mine! not his!" he gurgled due to the amount of blood coming from his mouth.

"i'm not supposed to be anyone's! yes, at one point i was yours, but now i'm choosing to be sam's. because you're the one that left. you broke up with me, remember? and sam was there for me when i needed you! he helped and took care of me!" your chest heaved, your lungs desperately trying to get air. you let out a sniffle as you stared at your ex-boyfriend, your gaze changing into a soft showing of guilt.

"it's over, de, it's been over for years," you sighed. the nickname fell from your lips as if it had never left, and it shattered both yours and dean's hearts. "i'm sorry. but please just go. let me go. please." you backed up a few steps, your head making contact with sam's chest as he held your shoulders.

dean was shutting down. tears were flowing down his face, mixing with the bloody sweat over his new bruises. all he could do was stare. stare at you with sam. a picture perfect couple—more than you and himself had ever been. his lip quivered as he forced himself into acceptance, giving a simple nod to you both before walking to the impala.

he got in and began to drive away, his vision and mind both completely clouded. you and sam watched as he zoomed by, presumably leaving all the way back to the bunker. you looked up at sam, him down on you. small smiles of regret, sadness, and love made their way onto your faces.

it was over. you two could be happy. well, as happy as you could get with sam losing his brother over you. but you both wanted to forget it, just for a little bit. or until dean calls.

𝘨𝘢𝘣𝘴 𝘺𝘢𝘱𝘴 — saw the gif and felt compelled to write this idk why. but the reader is lowkey me bc if i lost one of them i'd definitely go for the other immediately LMFAO. likes, comments, + reblogs are very appreciated!! ۶ৎ

tags: @starzify @sunsbaby @soldiersgirl @bejeweledinterludes @littlesoulshine @deansbeer @titsout4jackles @daylighted @figthoughts @bluemerakis @ultravi0lence14 @legalmente-loca @sacr1ficialang3l @mahi-wayy @liiiilsss @jdmsslvt @j2archives

dm me or send an ask to be added to/taken off my taglist !!

[maddie0101]

game on

— based off of THIS request. I hope you like it nonny ! ❤︎

summary: you’re octavia’s best friend, but lately, bellamy’s been looking at you differently. you’ve flirted with him for ages, but he’d always brush it off. after the tragedy at mount weather, he starts flirting back—and now, you’re both caught up in a dangerous game of who will break first.

warnings: sexual tension, teasing, smut.ᐟᅟ (mdni), relentless flirting, bell finally caves, p in v, season 2 au, dirty talk, bell is hot in this fic, enemies to friends to lovers, language, angst!!, slowburn, some violence, hurt/comfort, bell and reader are both very bold in this lmfao, fluff (if you squint).

word count: 7.2k

note: this is somewhat of a s2 au? clarke isn't really mentioned after mount weather, so I made the fic between seasons 2 & 3. camp jaha is more like a small village now. (also, ik it's arkadia but they didn't name it that till s3, I think)

You met Octavia in lockup.

Both of you were young, too pissed off, and too stubborn for your own good. She was thrown in for existing and you were thrown in for fighting back.

What started as eye rolls across the cell block turned into quiet conversations through the walls, then whispers in the dark when the guards weren’t paying attention. Somewhere in between shared rage and shitty food, she became your best friend.

By the time the Ark decided to hurl y'all to the ground, the two of you were damn near inseparable. You always said if you were going to die, you were at least going to do it next to your best friend.

Octavia was the only person who looked at you and didn’t see a case file. Everyone else saw a troublemaker—another angry teenager with too much attitude and not enough fear. You fought back too hard, asked too many questions, said fuck you when the rules didn’t make sense. You’d been in and out of lockup since you were twelve. No parents worth remembering. No future worth chasing. Just time.

Over time, you found out why she was in there. She never outright said it but she didn’t need to. You pieced it together in the quiet. In the way she looked over her shoulder when she thought no one was watching. In the way she talked about “him”—her brother, Bellamy—like he was the only thing that ever made her feel safe.

And that's when you decided you’d be the second.

You became like a sister to her. Her shield. Her partner in crime. You picked fights with guards so she wouldn’t have to. Got extra rations by trading favors. When she had nightmares, you’d talk her down until she could breathe again. You weren’t soft, you never had been but for her, you tried.

You were rough around the edges, and she needed that. Needed someone who wouldn’t pity her, wouldn’t treat her like she was fragile. She was the first person who made you believe that maybe you weren’t alone in this floating cage of metal and bullshit.

So yeah, when they loaded the two of you into the drop ship, you didn’t say goodbye. You just sat shoulder to shoulder and said, “Well… if we’re gonna die, at least we’re doing it the fun way.”

Octavia laughed like it was the end of the world. You smiled like it already was. But then the ground hit. Hard and fast and unforgiving.

And that’s when you met Bellamy.

The moment your boots hit the ground, you knew you weren’t on the Ark anymore. The air was heavier, but fresh. The trees looked too tall, too real. There was blood on your lip from the rough landing, and yet—none of it mattered the second your eyes found him.

He was standing just outside the ramp, barking orders, eyes sweeping over the chaos like he’d already claimed this place. Towering over half the teenagers scrambling around him, jaw locked tight. His hair was pushed back off his forehead, and sweat was clinging to his throat like it belonged there. He was gorgeous. And you were drooling a little bit.

You didn’t mean to stare.

But he did too. Just for a second.

A flicker of something sharp and heated passed between you. Like he didn’t expect you. Like you didn’t expect him. Like the ground had shifted a little more when you looked at each other.

Then, right when your stomach dipped in that oh shit kind of way, Octavia grabbed your hand. “Come on,” she said, tugging you towarda the hot guy, her eyes lighting up like the sun just rose for the first time. “I want you to meet someone.”

The guy turned as you approached, eyes landing on his sister first, softening for a half second in a way you never expected. Then he looked at you again.

“Bellamy,” Octavia beamed, wrapping her arms around him, “this is my best friend. The one I told you about.”

You watched the flicker in his eyes—the way he clocked you head to toe, like he was trying to figure out what kind of threat you were. Or maybe something else. Maybe he was trying not to think about the fact that he’d already looked too long.

You stuck out your hand. “So you’re the big brother.”

He didn’t take your hand. Just nodded, slow and unreadable, voice low and guarded. “You’re the one she never shut up about.”

You smirked, unfazed. “Hope I lived up to the hype.”

His mouth twitched like it wanted to be a smile but didn’t quite make it. “We’ll see.”

Octavia rolled her eyes and gave your arm a shove. “Play nice, you two.”

You didn’t look away from him. And he didn’t look away from you. And just like that, something started, unspoken and simmering, tucked beneath the dirt and the sky and the smell of ash still clinging to the wind.

You didn’t know what it was yet, but you knew it was going to be trouble.

──────────────────────

From that day forward, you and Bellamy bickered and fought. Not full-on screaming matches though, you’d come close once or twice—but enough to make people look the other way when you were within five feet of each other. You questioned every plan he barked out, called him a dictator to his face, and made it very clear you weren’t afraid of him.

He hated that. Or… at least he acted like he did.

You sided with Clarke most of the time. Not because you thought she had all the answers, but because Bellamy’s bullshit rubbed you the wrong way. The power trip, the bravado, the way he threw orders like they were law. Something about it felt off—like he was overcompensating for something he didn’t want anyone to see.

And maybe that pissed you off because deep down, you knew exactly what that felt like.

But then you found out the truth—what he did to get on the drop ship. How he’d risked everything to protect Octavia. How he’d become a fugitive the second the Ark realized he was missing. And suddenly… he didn’t seem like such a bastard after all.

He was still a pain in your ass. Still sharp-tongued and stubborn and so infuriating. But he wasn’t just some power-hungry asshole trying to run the camp—he was just a guy trying to keep the people he loved alive, even if it meant becoming the villain in someone else’s story.

And after that, the fighting slowed down. The sharp words turned into sarcasm. The biting tone gave way to smirks. You’d toss a comment over your shoulder and catch the way his lips would twitch, like he was trying not to smile. He’d give you a hard time about your attitude, but you could hear the difference in his voice. The edge was gone.

You started to see him in the quiet moments too. Not just the leader, but the person beneath it—the way he’d stay up all night fixing fencing when no one asked him to. The way he carried the guilt of every death like it was stitched into his skin. The way he looked at Octavia like she was the only part of him still pure.

And slowly, carefully, he started letting you in.

It wasn’t some big confession. It was small things—little glimpses, a joke here, a story there. He’d ask you where you were from, what you remembered about the Ark, how the hell you and Octavia managed to survive lockup without killing someone. You’d fire something smartass back, and he’d just shake his head, fighting a smile.

But through all of it, from day one on the ground—he protected you. First, because you were Octavia’s best friend. That was the excuse. That was the line.

But somewhere along the way, that stopped being the whole truth.

He started looking for you first when things went south. Standing closer than necessary when strangers passed through camp. You caught him watching you during arguments, after fights, when you came back from patrol a little too scraped up. And when you asked why, he’d shrug it off with that low, gruff, “Just keeping an eye on you.”

You’d smirk, pretending not to hear the weight behind it. Pretending not to notice how his gaze lingered just a little too long. Because whatever this was, it was walking a fine line. He wasn’t just Octavia’s big brother anymore. And you weren’t just the best friend he was supposed to ignore.

You’d always flirted with him in that quiet, dangerous way that made people raise their eyebrows and Bellamy roll his eyes.

It wasn’t obvious, not really. Just little things. A brush of your shoulder against his when you passed. A sly comment tossed his way when the group was tense. A smirk you reserved only for him.

He’d call you a pain in the ass and you'd call him a buzzkill.

But you both knew it was more than that. You never crossed the line. Not really. Because you were Octavia’s best friend. And because Bellamy Blake didn’t do feelings. Especially not when the world was burning around you.

But still—you flirted. Even when he gave you nothing in return but narrowed eyes and that signature, “You done yet?” tone.

Especially then, and if you told yourself it was just for fun, just to get under his skin, well… maybe that was easier than admitting the truth.

But everything shifted the night you went missing.

It happened fast. One second you were at the edge of Tondc, just outside the walls, taking a moment to yourself after another long day of prepping for war, and the next—you were gone. No one saw them grab you. No one heard you scream.

By the time Octavia noticed you hadn’t come back, it was too late.

They’d taken you to Mount Weather.

──────────────────────

Bellamy didn’t take the news well.

Clarke told him right after Finn’s funeral, her voice tight, eyes red, and for the first time in days, his whole body went still. “They have her.”

That was all she had to say. Bellamy's jaw clenched and his shoulders squared. He didn’t even ask how it happened. Didn’t say a word, really. Just agreed to going into the mountain with Lincoln. Now, more determined than ever.

He remembered the way you joked with him just a few days earlier. How you’d bumped his shoulder walking past and said, “Careful, Blake. I’m starting to think you like having me around.”

He’d scoffed, muttered something like, “Delusional,” and kept walking, even though he felt his heart hammer against his ribs like it was trying to claw its way out.

And now you were gone. And if he had to burn the mountain down to get you back, he would.

No hesitation. No second thoughts. Because you weren’t just Octavia’s best friend anymore.

You were his.

──────────────────────

Bellamy hadn’t seen you once the entire time he’d been inside Mount Weather.

He’d looked down every hallway he crept through, every lab he passed, every group of terrified faces locked behind glass—he searched for you. Hoped for a glimpse. A whisper. Anything—

But still, nothing.

And he told himself maybe that was good. Maybe they hadn’t gotten to you yet. But that was until the moment Monty pulled up the live feed from the control room, fingers flying across the keys, screens flickering to life—one after the other.

Then he saw you.

Strapped down, bruised, pale as a ghost—barely conscious.

His heart stopped.

You were lying on a medical bed, skin waxy and bloodless, arms pinned at your sides. You looked smaller somehow. Fragile and hollowed out. Your eyes fluttered just once, trying to fight, but your body was so far gone.

Clarke sucked in a sharp breath beside him. “Oh my god…”

Bellamy didn’t hear her. His whole body was locked in place, eyes fixed on the screen, fists clenched so tight his nails bit into his palms. “What room is that?” he asked, voice low and sharp like a blade. “Where is she?”

Monty’s hands shook as he tapped through feeds. “Cage moved her. She’s in—shit. They’re prepping her again.”

“She won’t survive another round,” Clarke said.

Bellamy already knew that. He could see it. Your chest was rising, barely. Your lips were dry and cracked. They’d taken too much—drilled too deep. There was no way you’d make it through another extraction. You were already halfway to gone.

But then you screamed. The sound so raw, so real, it cut through the air like shrapnel. It came from the tiny speakers above the monitor, distorted by static—but Bellamy heard it. He felt it. And it hit him like a fucking bullet straight to the heart.

“Monty,” Bellamy barked. “Is it ready?!”

“I’m almost done—”

Another scream cut through the air and Bellamy’s eyes didn’t leave the screen. You were arching off the table now, or trying to. One of the techs held you down as the drill started to hum. And for the first time since landing on the ground, Bellamy panicked “Monty!”

“Got it!” Monty shouted. “You’re good—outside oxygen flow is ready,”

Bellamy didn’t wait. He couldn't. Him and Clarke grabbed the handles and pulled the lever down together.

The room shook as the outside air flooded in. Monitors flatlined. Systems failed. The screen cut out—but not before Bellamy saw the med techs start to drop, one by one, choking on the very air that was supposed to keep them safe.

He didn’t flinch or look away. He only stood there, chest heaving, jaw clenched, hands still wrapped around the lever like he’d never let go.

Because he didn’t just do it for the hundred. He did it for you.

──────────────────────

The moment the doors slid open, Bellamy didn’t wait for clearance. He sprinted. His boots skidded across blood-slick floors, past bodies of guards and doctors, and when he found the room—the one from the screen—he nearly collapsed at the sight of you.

You were still strapped down. Motionless. A dull red smeared across your arm where they’d started drilling. Your eyes were barely open, just slivers of hazy light in a face drained of everything but pain.

“Hey,” he said, voice hoarse, cracking as he stumbled to your side. “Hey—look at me.”

Your eyes twitched. And then slowly, god, so fucking slowly—you turned your head toward him. A ghost of a smile tugged at your lips. “Took you long enough.”

Something in Bellamy shattered in that moment. He dropped to his knees beside you, hands cupping your face without even thinking. “Jesus, you’re an idiot,” he choked out, brushing sweat-damp hair from your forehead. “Do you have any idea what you put me through?”

“You love the drama,” you rasped, blinking up at him like he was the only thing tethering you to this world.

And for a second, neither of you spoke. Just breathed. Until the door banged open again.

“Y/N?!” Octavia’s voice cracked through the hall like a whip and she rushed in, eyes wide and wild, skidding to a stop as soon as she saw you.

“Oh my god.” She dropped to the other side of the bed, grabbing your hand with both of hers. “Are you—are you okay? I thought—I thought they—”

“I’m okay,” you whispered. “I’m okay, O.”

But you weren’t. Not really. And they both knew it.

Bellamy met Octavia’s eyes over you, and something passed between them, something silent, heavy, and full of fear. They’d both almost lost you. And neither of them could pretend that didn’t mean something.

──────────────────────

As they got you back to Camp Jaha on a stretcher, your body too weak to walk, your pulse faint and flickering like a dying ember. Abby and the med team rushed in the second you arrived, but even surrounded by people, Bellamy never left your side.

Not once. He stood in the corner of medical, arms crossed, jaw locked tight as Abby worked. Watching. Waiting. His fingers itched to hold yours again, just to make sure you were real—but he didn’t move.

He couldn’t. Because his chest was filled with this awful, unbearable pressure—like everything he’d buried since the day you landed had finally clawed its way to the surface and was refusing to go back.

You could’ve died. You almost did. And the fucked up part was…it wasn’t just fear that crushed him when he saw you on that screen. He realized he was in love with you.

He’d spent years pretending he wasn’t capable of it, convinced himself he didn’t deserve it. But now? Now it was too loud to ignore.

So he sat by your bedside while you slept, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on the slow rise and fall of your chest.

And in the silence of that makeshift medical bay, Bellamy made a promise to himself he didn’t say out loud: He was never letting you go again.

──────────────────────

You were still recovering. The med bay had cleared you for light activity, but the deep ache in your bones hadn’t gone anywhere.

Some nights, when the camp was quiet and everyone else was asleep, you’d lie awake and feel the phantom pain—like the drills were still in your spine, like your marrow was still being taken drop by drop.

But Bellamy made it easier. He wasn’t soft about it—he didn’t hover or coddle you. But he was there. Constantly.

Helping you walk when your legs gave out. Sitting with you when you couldn’t stomach food. Throwing that dumb smirk your way every time you grumbled about the taste of the medicine Abby forced down your throat.

He kept you grounded. He kept you here. And somewhere in that haze of recovery and exhaustion, the two of you slipped back into your old rhythm. The bickering. The sarcasm. The late-night banter over who had the worst luck since landing on the ground.

Except now… now Bellamy was flirting back.

And not in a joking, half-assed kind of way—no, he was actually leaning into it. Smirking at your comments, throwing little teasing remarks right back at you, giving you that look that made your stomach flip if you thought about it too long. It was weird as hell, honestly.

Because for the longest time, he never did that. He used to shut it down, gently but clearly, like he didn’t want to hurt your feelings but also didn’t want to give you the wrong idea. And you got it—you weren’t stupid.

He wasn’t into you. You were just Octavia’s best friend, and now apparently one of his best friends too. That was the box he put you in. So yeah, whatever the hell this was, it threw you off.

The first time it happened, you thought you were hearing things.

You were sitting by the campfire, rubbing at your sore shoulder while Bellamy passed out rations.

When he dropped yours into your lap, you grinned and said, “Aw, look at that—feeding me now? If you wanted to take care of me, Blake, you could’ve just said so.”

Normally, he’d roll his eyes. Maybe throw a snarky comment your way and move on. But this time? He paused. Just for a second. Then he leaned down, close enough that you felt the warmth of him against your cheek, and murmured, “Don’t tempt me.”

Then walked off like he hadn’t just short-circuited your fucking brain.

You sat there for a solid thirty seconds, staring down at the food in your lap like it had personally offended you.

What the hell was that? A joke? A heat-of-the-moment thing? You shook it off.

But then it kept happening and you didn’t know what the fuck to do with that.

A few days ago, you made a crack about him always watching your back on patrol, said something like “You sure you’re not just into the view?”

And instead of brushing it off like usual, Bellamy looked you dead in the eyes and said “Maybe I am.”Cool as anything. No smirk. No eye-roll. Just… said it and then kept walking. Leaving you standing there in the middle of the damn woods like your brain had shorted out and needed to reboot.

And ever since then, he’d been doing it more. Pushing back. Saying shit that made your stomach twist and heat crawl up your spine, and worst of all—he wasn’t backing down. Not even a little.

Which is how you ended up where you were now: sitting by the fire, pretending to sharpen your blade while Bellamy passed behind you. Close enough to brush against your back, to set your nerves on fire.

“You keep hovering like that, I’m gonna start thinking you like being near me,” you said, voice light, teasing.

Bellamy didn’t miss a beat. “What if I do?”

You looked up at him, blade in your lap, heart doing stupid somersaults in your chest. He smiled...smiled. Not that fake shit either. A real one—Lazy, dangerous, full of something you hadn’t seen in his eyes when he looked at you before.

And that was when you made the decision. Fine. If he wanted to play, you’d play that game too, and better.

You’d been dancing around this for months, always throwing your little lines and watching them bounce off that brick wall he’d built around himself.

But now? Now—he was letting things slip through the cracks and you were going to wedge yourself into every single one.

So, the next morning, you waited until the camp was half-awake, Bellamy still pulling on his jacket near the weapons rack. You wandered over casually, like you weren’t already keyed up and ready to stir shit. You leaned against the post beside him, arms crossed, that lazy smirk already forming.

“Early start today?” you asked, voice light.

He grunted, checking the straps on his pack. “Someone’s gotta make sure we don’t all die out there.”

You hummed. “And here I thought you just liked spending time with me.”

He looked up, narrowed his eyes just a little. “Don’t flatter yourself.” But there was a twitch at the corner of his mouth, and you caught it.

You stepped closer, voice dropping just enough to make him freeze with the last strap still halfway buckled. “Come on, Bell. You flirt, I flirt back… you flirt again. That’s kinda how it goes now, isn’t it?”

Bellamy turned to you, jaw set, eyes scanning your face like he was trying to find the trick behind your smile. “You think that’s what this is?” he asked.

You shrugged. “I think you like the attention.”

He stepped in, just slightly and the air between you thickened. “I think you do too.”

God, you hated how your breath caught at that. Just a little hitch in your throat. Nothing big, nothing anyone would notice—but he did. Of course he did.

You recovered fast, smirking as you reached past him to snag a knife off the rack, brushing his hand just enough to make his fingers twitch. “Guess we’ll see who breaks first, huh?”

And with that, you walked off, blade twirling in your hand like the whole damn thing hadn’t just made your pulse spike.

The game was on now and you had every intention of winning.

──────────────────────

It started out like any other sparring session.

The usual crowd was gone, which left the training area mostly empty. Bellamy had offered to spar earlier, and you’d jumped at the chance.

You said it was to stay sharp. But you lied. You liked the way he looked during training—sweaty, flushed, half-wild. His curls stuck to his forehead, his shirt clinging to his chest, arms flexing with every movement. And most of all, you loved getting under his skin.

“Focus,” Bellamy warned, blocking your strike with a dull thwack of wood against wood.

You smirked, catching him off guard with a spin, ducking low and kicking his legs out from under him.

He hit the ground with a heavy grunt and before he could recover, you were on him. Straddling his hips, staff pressed across his collarbone, pinning him down. “Oh, I’m focused,” you said, breathless but grinning. “You just underestimated me. Again.”

Bellamy stared up at you, chest rising fast, hands gripping the dirt. His eyes dropped for a second—just a flash—to your face, to your French braids pulled tight, the strands messy at the crown from the fight.

God, he thought you were beautiful. Dangerously beautiful.

And you saw it, you fucking saw it, because your eyes sparkled with something wicked and knowing, and before he could stop you—you shifted. Subtle. Just a small, slow roll of your hips against his.

Not enough to cross a line but just enough to wreck him, make him go insane.

Bellamy's hands clenched tighter into the dirt and his breath hitched hard in his throat. And then, fuck—he groaned, low and guttural—like it had been torn right out of him.

“Something wrong?” you asked, feigning innocence, but your voice was soft, sultry, but lethal.

His dark eyes snapped back to yours, jaw clenched, lips parted like he was about to say something but couldn’t figure out what. You could feel how tense he was beneath you, every muscle pulled tight. One second more and he might’ve snapped it himself.

He gritted out, “Get off me.”

Your brow raised. “Why? Afraid you’ll lose?”

“I already fucking lost.”

The words slipped out before he could stop them. You froze for half a second, long enough for the heat to crawl up your spine. And then you smirked. But this time, it was softer. Less teasing, a little more dangerous.

But you didn’t move, not yet. You just leaned in, voice low near his ear. “Then maybe you should stop trying to win.” And just like that, you rolled off him and stood up like nothing had happened. Tossed the staff to the side—dusted your hands off like it was any other day.

Bellamy didn’t move right away. He just laid there, breath shallow, staring at the sky like it might help him cool down. But It wouldn’t.

Because now? The game had changed, and he wasn't going to let you win.

──────────────────────

It started with a stupid knot in your shoulder—and ended with you damn near falling apart in Bellamy Blake’s hands.

You were sitting by the fire, exhausted from the day’s patrol, your back screaming from the gear you’d hauled and the tension you hadn’t stretched out yet.

The camp buzzed around you—murmured conversations, clanging metal, the occasional burst of laughter. But it all blurred out when Bellamy dropped down beside you, close enough that your knees brushed.

You’d shot him a tired smirk. “If I die from a snapped spine, tell Octavia it was the pack’s fault.”

He raised a brow. “Dramatic.”

You rolled your eyes, trying and failing to roll your shoulder. “I have a whole-ass mountain growing between my blades. Go fuck yourself.”

Bellamy didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at you for a beat, his eyes dark, unreadable, and then shifted behind you without warning. The weight of his knees settled on either side of you as he moved in, solid and warm and suddenly way too close.

“Bell,” you warned, stiffening. “What are you—”

His hands landed on your shoulders and everything in your body short-circuited. “Relax,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper, breath brushing your neck. “I’ve got it.”

You were going to make a joke, something smartass-y about him finally wanting to touch you—but then his fingers dug in. Deep, expertly—right on the knot and You exhaled a sharp breath. More like a gasp you thought but it was embarrassingly close to a moan.

Your body went still, spine arching instinctively toward the pressure.

Bellamy didn’t comment. Didn’t even flinch. Just kept going like he hadn’t just heard you make a noise you usually reserve for way more private moments.

His thumbs worked in slow, agonizing circles. His palms were steady, warm, grounding. Every time his fingers dragged down your shoulder blade, you had to fight not to lean back against him, not to let your head drop and fucking purr like a cat.

“Still dramatic?” he asked, low against your ear.

You swallowed hard. “You’re… not bad at this.”

He chuckled, and the sound vibrated through your back like he’d poured it straight into your skin. Then his hands shifted, one drifting just slightly lower. His fingers brushed the edge of your collarbone—slowly, and your stomach flipped.

A small sound escaped you but this time, you definitely couldn’t blame it on the knot. It was a soft half a sigh, half a moan. And it slipped out before you could kill it.

Bellamy’s hands paused for a fraction of a second and then he leaned in just enough to let you feel the grin in his voice. “Didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said, tone damn near wicked.

You swallowed again. “You didn’t.”

You didn’t dare turn around. You knew what you’d find if you did—those dark eyes watching you too closely. That smug, infuriating look he gets when he knows he’s gotten under your skin.

Instead, you muttered, “You’re lucky I’m tired, Blake. If I had any energy, I’d knock you flat on your ass.”

His hands slid off your shoulders—finally, but not before his fingers gave one last, lazy squeeze to your waist. “Looking forward to it,” he said. “Night, princess.”

And then he was gone, leaving you buzzingc flushed—ruined.

Fine. If he wanted to start this game, you were going to end it.

──────────────────────

The party was loud, messy—exactly the kind of chaos Jasper thrived on. There were half-drunk kids dancing around the fire, someone already passed out near the speakers, and enough stolen booze passed around to dull the ache in all their bones.

You weren’t drunk. Just a little buzzed, a little bold. Just enough to stop pretending like Bellamy Blake wasn’t looking at you like he wanted to burn the clothes off your body with just his eyes. He stood near the drinks table, talking to Miller and Harper, but his gaze kept flicking to you.

And that’s when you noticed it. His belt was undone—fly half open, the edges of his shirt barely covering it like it had come loose without him realizing.

You smirked, crossed the space between you like you had no business doing it, like you weren’t already pushing the line between teasing and dangerous.

“Bell,” you said, casual, leaning in just enough to make him stiffen, “you’re kinda coming undone.”

“Huh?” His brows furrowed, the drink in his hand sloshing a little as he glanced down. “Shit.”

But before he could move, your hands were already there. You reached down, slowly, deliberately, and grabbed the open ends of his belt. The conversation around you died a little. You didn’t care. You didn’t look up at him as you looped the leather through, tightened it with one practiced tug, and zipped up his fly with a soft, satisfying sound.

“There,” you said, straightening up, smirking just a bit. “Wouldn’t want you walking around indecent.”

Bellamy was frozen. Tense. His jaw clenched, and his fingers gripped the cup in his hand like he was trying not to crush it.

You turned, completely unbothered, already walking away—until a hand grabbed your wrist, rough but careful. You barely had time to react before he tugged you past the crowd, past the music and firelight and straight out into the cool night air behind one of the abandoned cabins.

He didn’t say a word. Just pressed you back against the side of the cabin, eyes dark and wild like he was two seconds from losing every bit of control he had left. “You think that shit’s funny?” he rasped, voice low and wrecked.

You tilted your head, playing dumb. “Think what’s funny?”

He stepped closer—close enough that you could feel his breath against your lips. “You. Tearing me apart in front of everyone. Touching me like that like it’s nothing.”

“It was nothing,” you lied, breath hitching. “You looked like you needed help.”

He gave a dry, disbelieving laugh. “You think I haven’t noticed what you’ve been doing?”

“Then why didn’t you stop me?”

His eyes searched yours, burning hot and furious and so full of want it nearly knocked the air out of your lungs. “Because I wanted to see how far you’d push,” he said. “And now you’ve gone too far.”

You swallowed, chest rising and falling like you’d just run a damn marathon. His eyes never left yours. Not for a second. Not even as his hand slid from your wrist to your waist, fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp, your back hitting the wood behind you with a soft thud.

You could barely breathe, barely think, and it was a miracle your knees hadn’t buckled under the weight of how he was looking at you—like he was starving. Like he’d waited too long. Like he was one second away from ruining you in the best goddamn way possible.

“I thought you liked it,” you managed, your voice low, shaky. “The game.”

His hand moved, tracing slowly along your side, up your ribs, stopping just under the curve of your chest. Not touching—not yet—but close enough to burn. “I did,” he said, voice rough. “But now I’m done playing.”

Your breath caught again, a tiny, involuntary sound slipping from you and his eyes snapped down to your lips.

And that was it— the breaking point. His mouth crashed into yours like he couldn’t take it another fucking second—like holding back had become unbearable. It was messy, desperate, needy—his hands gripped your waist like he needed to feel every inch of you under them, like he’d been dreaming about this and was finally allowed to have it.

You kissed him back just as hungrily, your hands fisting in the front of his shirt, pulling him closer, not caring how out of control this was.

It was Bellamy. It was finally Bellamy. The man who acted like you were just Octavia’s best friend, like you didn’t get under his skin, like he wasn’t staring at your mouth every time you smiled. But you knew now. You felt it now.

When his mouth tore from yours, it was only to drag hot, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, your neck, his breath ragged against your skin as your hips pressed together in a slow, unconscious grind.

“You think I don’t see what you’ve been doing?” he murmured against your throat, voice gravel and heat. “You think I haven’t been fucking dying every time you smiled at me like that? Every time you touched me and acted like it was nothing?”

Your nails dug into his shoulders, head falling back as you gasped, dizzy from the feel of his mouth on your skin. “You should’ve done something about it sooner,” you whispered.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, hair a mess, lips kiss-bitten, eyes full of that same raw, hungry heat. “I’m doing something about it now.”

He didn’t give you a second to answer—not that you could’ve if you tried. His mouth was on yours again, rougher this time, all teeth and tongue and months of tension finally snapping at the seams.

You barely registered when his hands slid down, gripping under your thighs and lifting you like you weighed nothing, like he’d been thinking about doing it for months. Your back hit the side of the cabin behind you, the old wood creaking beneath the sudden weight of it all—but neither of you gave a damn.

Your legs locked around his waist instinctively, and that sound he made—low, guttural, practically a growl, shot straight through you. He rocked into you, hard and slow, just enough friction to leave you gasping, head spinning.

“Bell…” You didn’t know if it was a warning or a plea, but it came out breathless, desperate. His lips hovered just above yours, breath mingling, voice wrecked. “Say it again.”

You blinked, dazed. “What?”

“My name. Say it again.”

So you did, you whispered his name softly. “Bellamy.”

That broke him. His hips rolled against you, harder this time, and you moaned, your head thumping back against the wall, fingers tangled in his hair, tugging. His hands were everywhere, palming your ass, sliding under your shirt, pushing the fabric up until your bare stomach hit the cool night air.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he muttered against your collarbone, pressing kisses there like he couldn’t stop. “Every time you laugh. Every time you call me an asshole and then wink at me two seconds later.”

“I was just teasing,” you breathed, even though you both knew that was only half true.

His hand slid higher, thumb brushing just under the edge of your bra. “Yeah? Still teasing now?”

You arched into him, a challenge in your voice. “What if I am?”

His laugh was dark, dangerous. “Then I guess I’ll just have to teach you a lesson, won’t I?”

And that was it, he dragged you away from the wall, still wrapped around him, and started toward one of the empty buildings near the edge of camp.

You didn’t ask where, didn’t care—you were too focused on the way his hands gripped you, the way his mouth kept finding yours between footsteps like he couldn’t go more than two seconds without it. And by the time he pushed through the door and kicked it shut behind you, both of you were shaking.

“Last chance,” he said, voice ragged. “Tell me to stop.”

You stared at him, heart pounding, lips swollen, chest heaving—and shook your head. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

Bellamy’s mouth was on you again in a heartbeat, and this time, he didn’t stop. You whimpered against his lips, grabbing onto his jacket and dragging him closer. His other hand was at your waist, sliding around to the small of your back, holding you like he wasn’t letting go again.

He pulled back just enough to breathe, foreheads pressed together. “You drive me insane,” he said, breath hot against your lips. “You and your fucking mouth.”

You grinned, breathless. “Then do something about it.”

That was all it took. His hands found the hem of your shirt and shoved it up, baring your stomach to the cool air. You didn’t stop him—not for a second. You were too busy dragging your own fingers under his shirt, mapping out the cut lines of his torso like you’d earned the right to finally touch him.

“You’re gonna regret teasing me this long,” he muttered, pulling your top over your head.

“I’ve regretted nothing.” Your fingers dug into his shoulders as he pushed you back against the wall of the cabin, mouth trailing fire down your throat. “Except maybe not doing this sooner.”

His hands were everywhere—gripping, kneading, like he was trying to make sure you were really here. Yours weren’t much better. You practically tore his shirt off, raking your nails down his chest, relishing the way he hissed when you reached his waistband.

“Is this why you wore this tonight?” he asked, voice low and ragged, eyes dragging down your body like it was killing him to look.

“What, the braids?” You smirked. “Knew you liked ’em.”

He groaned and kissed you again, harder this time, biting at your bottom lip. “Smartass.”

“Guilty.”

He walked you backward to the bed, lowering you down with a hand behind your back like instinct. The mattress creaked as you scooted up, pulling him with you, legs wrapping around his waist. “Still think I’m playing games?” you asked, breathless.

“No,” he growled. “I think you’re fucking dangerous.”

His hand slipped between your thighs, fingers brushing against your center through your underwear. You bucked into the touch, a quiet moan escaping before you could bite it back.

That moan wrecked him. He yanked your underwear down with a curse, shoved his pants off just enough, and hovered over you, chest heaving. “Last chance to tell me to stop.”

You shook your head so fast it made your braids whip around your shoulders. “Bell—please.”

That was it. He sank into you in one smooth thrust, and both of you let out gasps like the air had been knocked out of your lungs. It was everything. Too much. Not enough. You clung to him, breath ragged, nails biting into his back as he started to move—slow and deep at first, like he wanted to feel every inch of you.

You wrapped your legs tighter around his hips, meeting him thrust for thrust, choking on every broken sound that spilled from your lips. The way he moved—like he already knew your body, like he’d thought about this a hundred times—it was dizzying.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” he groaned, forehead pressed to yours. “Should’ve done this the second we hit the ground.”

You laughed, breathless and shaking. “What took you so long?”

“I didn’t want to fuck up what we had.” His hand came up to cup your face, thumb stroking over your cheek even as he kept driving into you. “But I can’t stop now. I won’t.”

You pulled him closer, kissed him like you’d die if you didn’t, and arched up into him as he hit just the right angle. Your body clenched around him and his rhythm stuttered. “Bell—” your voice broke, “I’m gonna—”

“I got you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your jaw, your neck, your lips. “Come for me.”

Your body shattered beneath him, heat pulsing through every nerve as the orgasm ripped through you—loud and desperate. Bellamy cursed, hips faltering as he followed, burying himself deep as he groaned into your mouth.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of your breathing, tangled limbs and sweaty skin. Then he pulled back just enough to look at you, to really look at you. And you didn’t see lust anymore. You saw everything.

“I almost lost you,” he murmured, thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. “In that damn mountain… I thought —”

“I know,” you cut in gently. “But you didn’t. You saved me.”

Bellamy closed his eyes like your voice was the only thing keeping him grounded. “Yeah,” he breathed. “But it scared the hell out of me. Made me realize I’ve been pushing you away for nothing.”

“You weren’t,” you said. “You were scared, bell. I was too.”

He looked at you then. Really looked at you. And for once, there was no wall behind his eyes. Just honesty. “I don’t want to keep playing games,” he said.

Your heart squeezed in your chest. “Then don’t.”

He leaned in again, but this kiss was slower, warmer. A promise this time, not a battle. You melted into it, fingers gently trailing over his freckled skin. He held you like you were something fragile, even though he knew damn well how strong you were. And when he finally pulled back, you didn’t let him get far. Your forehead stayed against his, both of you breathing the same air.

“Bell?” you whispered.

“Yeah?”

You smiled, eyes still closed. “Next time, maybe just kiss me before we try to kill each other in a party full of drunk teenagers.”

He laughed quietly, the sound breaking through the storm of emotion in his chest. “Deal,” he said. And when he finally wrapped his arms around you, holding you against him like he never wanted to let go, you realized he meant it.

For the first time, this wasn’t a game. It was something real.

author’s note:

hii guys! I hope y’all liked this one! :) I’m a little slut for backstories so I kinda rambled about how they met. Ik they didn’t actually have cabins and ‘camp jaha’ only lasted a little bit but I wrote it anyways 🤷🏽‍♀️ basically an au, hehe. Hope you liked this one, nonny! ❤︎

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@rubydacherry42 @chalametsangel @imsiriuslyreal @dobfavgirl @kimxwinchester @tinas111

If you would like to be tagged please fill out THIS form and I will add you to the list! ❤︎

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[wheels-of-despair]

C'mon Pairing: @oneforthemunny's Dom!Eddie x Brat!Reader Summary: Someone is taking too long to get ready for a night out, so Eddie hurries things along. Contains kink and smut, youths get lost. Words: 1.2k

Happy Birthday, Evie! I expanded on this Horny Hours post forever ago and forgot about it but I dusted it off again just for youuu! 😘

"You ready yet?"

"Almost," you answer, trying not to stab yourself with the eyeliner.

"You said that ten minutes ago," Eddie sighs, leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom.

"I lied."

"Oh yeah?"

Shit.

"It was an optimistic estimate."

Eddie snorts, rolls his eyes, and walks away.

Safe.

Dammit, your mascara is uneven.

"Jesus Christ, would you hurry up?" he demands two minutes later.

"I just wanna look pretty for you," you whine.

"You look fine."

"Fine?" you pout.

"Everybody's already there!"

"It's called being fashionably late, ever heard of it?" you challenge, pulling on your dress to display your cleavage a little better.

"It's called a spanked ass, ever felt it?"

"I didn't even do anything," you scoff.

"You're being difficult."

"You think this is difficult?" you laugh.

"You planning on being more difficult?"

"Of course not, sweetie," you smile sweetly.

Eddie narrows his eyes. You stare at each other for a moment. And then he strikes like a cobra, bending you over the bathroom counter and flipping your dress up before you can fight back.

"Eddie, what--!"

SMACK!

"OW!"

Eddie holds you down with a palm to the small of your back, smacking your cheeks with the other until you're surely pink. You kick in protest, and he smacks harder.

And then, he decides he's done, and pulls you into a standing position.

"Good, you're not crying yet. Makeup's fine. Let's go."

"The fuck was that for?" you demand.

"Oh, that was in case you get any ideas. You're already warmed up. Don't think I won't throw you across my knee tonight."

"There are gonna be like, a hundred people there," you complain.

"Do I look like I care?"

"Eddieee," you whine.

"C'mon."

And that was that.

You weren't happy about sitting on that cracked van seat in your short skirt on the way to The Hideaway, but the sting had faded by the time you got there. You milled around, drank a little, chatted with a few people. When you started getting bored, you started getting horny.

And when you get horny, you need Eddie.

You look around the bar for him, seeing the band take the stage. You look at the clock and fume. He said the band he was interested in would start at 8. Which is why you had to leave early. It's 9. This is the opening act. He is such a liar.

But you approach him anyway, under the guise of wanting to listen together.

The closeness of the crowd really works in your favor.

Eddie wraps his arms around you from behind, pulling you into him. You lean your head back against him and sway for a bit to the shitty opening act. And then you alter your movements a little bit. You grind your ass into his cock as subtly as you can, being in the middle of a crowd and all.

"Stop," he whispers in your ear.

"Stop what?" you ask, feeling him harden through a few layers of fabric.

"That."

"Not doing anything," you smile innocently, glancing back at him.

He's not amused. He leans close to whisper in your ear.

"Remember what I told you before we left?" his voice rumbles.

"That I looked fine?" you pout, flexing your cheeks against his cock. "That hurt."

"Know what else is gonna hurt?"

He squeezes your ass cheek, reigniting the warmth.

"What do you think these people would do if I bent you over that table and gave you what you needed right here?"

Eddie's grip tightens, pulling you closer to him.

"That what you want? For everyone to see what happens to brats who don't know how to behave? Show off those slutty little panties you've got on? Want me to pull 'em down and let the crowd watch your cheeks change colors?"

You bite your lip, and he bites your earlobe.

"Good thing I don't wanna upstage the band."

His grip loosens. The fuck does that mean? You look back at him, feeling your stomach flip at the darkness in his eyes.

"C'mon."

Eddie takes your hand and leads you away from the crowd. You stumble, feeling the heat pool between your legs at the thought of what's coming.

You're pulled into a storage room with a flickering fluorescent light. Kegs and boxes line the walls. It'll do.

"Hands on the keg," he orders, unbuckling his belt.

You bend at the waist, putting your hands on top of the cold metal. Eddie stands behind you, nudging your feet apart with his boot. You widen your stance, wiggling your ass at him. He flips your dress up, taking a moment to knead the flesh he's about to batter. You moan.

"Don't think you'll be needing these," he rumbles, close to your ear, before hooking his fingers into the sides of your panties and sliding them down your legs. He taps your ankle, and you lift each foot so he can get them off.

You hear a rustle of fabric. They're in his pocket. The thwip of his belt being pulled from its loops. The clink of the buckle as he doubles it. You tremble. He steps closer. A hand in the small of your back.

WHACK

You rock forward on your toes, always shocked by that first strike. You don't get much time to process before the second, and the third, and the fourth land. How does he make this feel so good?

Eddie's belt snaps against your backside until you start to reconsider how good it feels. He can always tell, just by the sound of your breathing. You start to pant, and squirm, and the lashes stop.

And then you hear the sound of a zipper being unzipped.

You arch toward him, begging him to enter you.

You let out a quiet moan when he sinks into you.

He gives you a minute to adjust before pulling back slowly. You fight the urge to chase him, to beg him not to leave you. And then he slams into your red-hot ass, rocking you forward on the keg. Your hands lose their place, moving from warm metal to cool. It feels nice. Maybe you should sit on this when he's done. Eddie slams into you again, and you try to stay in position, but he's just so strong.

On the next thrust, you lose your balance, and Eddie tries to catch you. Your stomach lands on top of the untapped keg. It's not as uncomfortable as you thought it would be. Or maybe you're too fucking desperate to worry about anything other than getting fucked into next Tuesday. Eddie's hands grip your waist, as if to pull you back up.

"Don't," you beg. "Don't stop."

Eddie pounds into you again, and again, and you slide a little more with each thrust. By the time your walls clench around him, you've got your elbows on the floor. Eddie's fingers dig into your hips on top of the keg, making sure he's buried as deep as he can be when he finally explodes.

"Fuuuck," he whispers when he pulls out.

You're not quite sure how to get up, but he helps. You fall into his chest, resting your head against him. His heart is pounding.

"You good?" he asks, brushing a loose strand of hair out of your face.

"Mhm," you hum.

"You get what you needed?"

"Mhm."

"Good. The band's on in five."

You look up at him with a pout. Does he really expect you go to out there and stand in that crowd with belt stripes across your thighs and cum dripping down your legs?

"C'mon."

[gpcwsl]

Could you please Wirte Alessia Russo x reader where the Team is playing Truth or Dare or something

And Reader must kiss any Teammate idk and Alessia gets Really jealous (they are not in Relationship)

Warnings: sorry for changing it up, already did a spin the bottle fan fiction for Caitlin so I wanted to do something different. Not read through properly, kissing, making out.

Alessia Russo x Reader: stop staring.

My MasterList

When Leah fulled on BEGGED you to join the team’s night-in at her house you gave in. Leah and your friendship is like a circle that never ends. Your always honest to each other: if one of you doesn’t like the girl (or guy) the other brings home or dating you or Leah will fully tell the other. And, then the other will break it off. Laughter: both will laugh at anything the other says. Sometimes it will stick, and be an inside joke between the two of you. Which sometimes annoy the others but you two don’t give a shit. Your eachother’s bricks, supporting the building so it doesn’t fall.

You didn’t want to be here. You wanted to be at your cozy, warm, not-so-chaotic, well tidied house. But, here you are. After some begging from Leah you are sat in her living room. Few others have left, need in to go somewhere or they are just tried. You wanted to join them and leave but Leah held you hostage the whole time. Leah, you, Alessia, Katie, Caitlin, Lia, Kyra and Beth are the last ones. All in the living room. In different conversations. Caitlin and Katie, of course close together giggling and chattering away on the opposite couch you and Leah were sat on.

You and Leah were in a deep conversation. Well, for you two it was. It was more of an disagreement you could say. Both of you were fighting over who F•R•I•E•N•D•S character is better. Obviously, people have opinions. But, either of you are letting this go. (If you don’t watch/like friends, you can imagine a different show/movie.) Leah’s favourite is Rachel. Describing how much of a power house she is. Also sneaking in the conversation that her and Ross were on a break, but Ross was in the wrong for sleeping with someone only a mere hours after. (Yep, that’s my opinion.) But for you, it was Chandler. His jokes, sarcasm and his sweet words that made Monica fall more in love with him.

During this debate, unknown to everyone (but Kyra who had this knowing look on her face) was Alessia staring at the two of you. An unusual expression. When I say unusual I mean, Alessia would never in a day have this sort of expression. A sour, wanting to kill someone kind of expression. Alessia eyes were cold and black. Cold like the water the titanic sunk in and, black like coal, you get to increase the fire that was burning inside of her right now. She only broke out the soul-staring when Kyra (who knew why the girl had this look at her) smiling cheekily at her nudges her shoulder.

“Stop staring, or you’ll actually kill her.” Kyra whispered to her, looking around to see if anyone else was in heard of this conversation but no see everyone in they own tiny world.

Alessia, still with the cold expression but her eyes turn back to blue. “Good.” Alessia mumbled, grumpily falling back into the beanbag, that was next to the television. “They say they are ‘just friends’ but look at them! Leah is all over her, first of all. And then, Y/n she’s…” - Kyra cuts her off with a smirk. “Beautiful.”

“Shut up.” Alessia mumbled, rolling her eyes as she shoves Kyra a little. “But, yeah she is. She’s gorgeous, her voice is so smooth, her hair is so soft and her hands-“

“Okay, shut up!” Kyra exclaimed, gaining eyes from everyone, mainly you. Alessia immediately smacks her shoulder, turning red. Beth, being the nosy friend she is asks - “shut up about what?”

Alessia silently begs Kyra not to say anything. Though, Kyra isn’t gonna tell the girls who she’s blushing over but, she is gonna tease Alessia. She turns her head to look at Alessia, smirking. Alessia shakes her head. “Kyra, no.” Alessia whispers.

“Alessia has got a crush!” Kyra blurts out, earning different types of reactions. Alessia groaning, everyone else teasing her but Y/n. She’s quiet, only for a few moments though before speaking.

“So, how long you been feeling this way about this person.” You ask, looking at her. Alessia’s head shoots to you, staring fora couple of seconds before clearing her throat. “Umm… around three months.”

You nod your head, looking down before standing up. “Need to use the restroom.” Without saying a word you speed-walk away from the group, looking at your figure in a mix our worry about the sudden change. Especially Leah. Who you were just laughing and giggling with.

Leah was about to get up and follow you but a voice stops her. “No, sit down. Let Alessia go.” Kyra says, shaking her head at Leah which makes her look at Alessia who was looking at Kyra.

“What?” Leah says, still looking at Alessia. “Why should Alessia go-“

“Leah, just - leave it for Alessia. This one at least.” Kyra exclaimed, before standing up wanting to pull Alessia up. Turning to her. “Talk to her, tell her”.

“Kyra, I can’t-“ - “you can, i know you can.”

Alessia takes a breath in, before nodding; standing up taking a step forward to speak to Leah just for a few seconds. “I’ve got this one. I need to tell her something.” Without a word she walks to the downstairs bathroom.

Alessia softly knocks on the door. Hearing a few shuffles before a door opening. Alessia heart beats faster. As the door swung open the space between the two is so close. You couldn’t fit a cat’s head in.

“Alessia.” You breathe out. Not expecting the forward to be standing right in front of you. “You need to use the restroom?”

Alessia shakes her head, her eyes never leaving yours, enchanted. “No, no I need to speak with you.”

You burrow your eyebrows, but slowly nods her head. “Yeah, sure. You wanna head up to Leah’s bedroom? More comfortable.”

Alessia breathes in but nods, her cheeks turning a shake of pink. “Yeah, that’s good.”

The two of you, in quiet walk up the stairs. Both h of your kinda sneaking past the others, but didn’t see either of you. Reaching the bedroom, softly opening the door. Alessia walking in first, followed by you. Shutting the door gently, before looking at Alessia.

“Okay, what’s up?” You ask, leaning your back against the door, looking at the blonde. Alessia takes in the way your body is leaning.

“Right. Look, this might ruin our friendship, but I’ve been feeling this for a few months now. You know the girl I like?” Alessia asks, cautiously moving forward, more to you.

You tense as she brings up the crush. Pulling back the urge to roll your eyes, you nod your head instead. “Yep, what about her.” Your voice tone not coming out like you wanted. Taking Alessia slightly back, not questioning it.

“It’s you. You’re the girl.” Alessia mumbles, not looking at her preparing for rejection.

You stunned. Looking at her, trying to see if she’s joking or actually telling the truth. But, by the reaction she’s having. Not looking at you. You know she is.

Smiling a little, before moving closer to her. Alessia looks up as she sees a shadow in front of her. Her breath drops as she sees how close you are to her. Looking into her eyes, still smiling. “I have feelings for you too.”

Alessia looks shocked, like she’s seen a ghost. “But, you and Leah seemed so close and-“

You burst out laughing. “Me and Leah. Oh, over my dead body.” When you stop laughing you can see how Alessia shoulders aren’t as tense, she’s actually smiling at you.

“So.. I can take you out? On a date?” Alessia asks, her cheeks now going an a bright red. You smile, nodding your head. “Yeah, definitely.”

Alessia shuffles on her spot. Her eyes still at you. Trying to boost herself up. Something clearly on her mind. She finally speaks up. “Can I- can I kiss you?”

If it’s possible your smile brightens. Nodding your head. You breathe an “yeah” out. Alessia moves forward, looking in the eyes for any indication that you don’t want this but, sees none. Bringing an hand up to cup your cheeks, slowly leaning in; soflty connecting her lips onto yours. Yours hand immediately finding her waist. You’re the one who deepens the kiss. Kissing Alessia more harder.

The air in the room shifts, well for Alessia it does. As she pushes you back. Till your back meets the door. Groaning against her lips as you feel the impact. Alessia quickly moves back, worried if she hurt you. “Shit - sorry I didn’t mean to. Are you okay?”

“Less. It’s okay, you didn’t hurt me. Quite the opposite actually.” You say, smirking a little before connecting your lips together again. Your hand reaches behind yours to lock the door. Before pushing Alessia forwards, till her legs hit the edge of the bed.

“Is this okay?” You mumble against her lips as you softly place her on the bed, you hovering over her. Alessia nods, immediately wanting your lips back on hers.

Meanwhile downstairs, Kyra having a knowing smirk on her face. But also making sure no one, especially Leah wound get up and ruin it for them.

[torakowalski]

More Swimmer Steve! He's not an Olympian yet, but he's (front) crawling his way there. Late 1986 or early 1987:

(continued from part one | part two)

"And then goddamn Phillips came out of fucking nowhere and took the win."

Steve comes stomping out of the bathroom, followed by a cloud of steam that Eddie can feel on his skin, still ranting as though there wasn't a break while he showered.

"Yeah, dude, I was there - " Eddie looks up and freezes, feeling a gulp get lodged in his gullet. "Jeez," he wheezes. "Pants?"

Steve, naked as the day he was born, looks down, shrugs at his own free swinging dick, and pulls the towel down from his shoulders to wrap around his waist.

"Better?" he asks, like Eddie's the one being unreasonable.

"Better." Eddie sits up on the bed, tactically pulling his knees up in front of himself so anything happening in his own pants area is his own business.

They've been sharing hotel rooms around the country on and off for months now. Seems like Steve has gotten too comfortable around him. Eddie needs to find a way to nip that in the bud before Steve's jockish love of nudity goes any further.

"That win was mine," Steve grumps, stomping around the room, pulling underwear out of his suitcase, thank god. "Now I'm gonna be in the goddamn fifth lane tomorrow."

"And you'll win from there," Eddie tells him, confidentally. He means it; Steve's been winning everything important since he started competing. He knows Steve has superstitions about certain lanes, but Eddie's never noticed any real difference.

Because Eddie knows about swimming now. There's a lot of travel involved in trying to make swimming your career, apparently, and Steve's been going to competitions all around the country all year.

Robin's at college, the kids are in school, but Eddie's barely healed and fully unemployed, so more often than not, he's the one who goes with Steve.

(He can't be left alone! Robin had wailed, pained. Eddie had laughed at her, but privately, Eddie agrees. Steve takes this shit really seriously; he needs someone to shake him out of his funks when he doesn't meet his own expectations.)

"Ugh," says Steve and drops his fucking towel again to angrily yank on his briefs. He throws himself down onto his stomach onto the other bed. His perfect, round ass curves up between the strong hollow of his lower back and his hairy, muscular thighs.

Eddie looks away.

"Fifth lane isn't that different from fourth," he tells the ceiling. "You'll still be in the middle and you'll destroy 'em all tomorrow."

Steve's quiet for a moment, then he rolls onto his side. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Eddie says, firm as he can. He lets his eyes flick down to Steve's shaved chest, just a little glance at all that skin and muscle, before pulling his attention back to Steve's face. "Yeah, you've got this, man."

Steve bites his chapped bottom lip. His hair is wet from the shower and sticking to the sides of his face. Eddie wants to push it back for him. Then Eddie wants to just linger, cup Steve's stupid, handsome face, tell him he's great and talented and a fucking joy to watch. That he lights up when he's in his element.

He's a coward, so he doesn't do any of those things.

Instead, he makes a stupid face at Steve, wrinkling up his nose then making himself go cross-eyed.

Steve laughs, his lip sliding free of his teeth and his expression relaxing. He pillows his head on his folded elbow, still facing Eddie. He's always tired after a long time in the pool, not as recovered as he pretends and pushing himself to be faster and stronger than everyone else.

"Thanks," he says. Then, dark eyelashes fluttering, eyelids losing a fight with gravity. "I'm glad it's always you who's here."

"Anyone wants to take my place, they're gonna have to fight me," Eddie tells him and means it way more than he hopes Steve knows.

(continued here)

[ervotica]

brat taming maybe with like dark!rafe???

pairing; rafe cameron x fem!reader

warnings; dark(ish?), dub-con if you squint but no smut, public punishment, spanking, dom!rafe, brat tamer!rafe

a/n; not a clue what this is tbh but trying to get back in the swing of writing for my fav boy <3 rafe requests and concept discussions are open as always! i always wanna talk abt this boy <3

“Are you gonna fuckin’ quit it or am I gonna have to beat the attitude out of you, kid?”

You gurgle nonsensically when his thick fingers curl around your ribcage to pull you into his chest, thrashing weakly as the flat of his hand taps against your cheek to sober you. Goosebumps raise on your arms and legs— partially from the night breeze, mostly from Rafe’s cruel touch.

“Rafe,” you purl, voice rising three octaves and swollen lips parting into a silent gasp when a resounding crack permeates the chatter of the party. Your cheeks are aflame, a nasty welt already rising on the soft skin with the distinct shape of a hand. You crinkle your nose indignantly, pushing at his firm chest even as you go soft and pliant in his grasp.

“Wanna try that again?” he snarks, clamping your jaw between his digits to anchor your gaze to his own. “Quit it.”

“You’re a prick,” you hiss, your temper flaring. He rolls his neck, eyes fluttering as he groans.

“Okay, kid.” He slaps you again and your eyes burn, glossing over with tears. “Just remember you did this to yourself, yeah?”

Dewiness clings to your neck as he backs you against the nearest wall, indifferent to the stares of the other partygoers that crowd the vast yard. His head dips until his brow touches yours.

“Turn around.”

“Not here, Rafe,” you breathe, that bravado you had disappearing at his insinuation— to spank you raw in front of everyone. “Can’t we go somewhere else?”

“No, we can’t,” he mocks your whining cadence. “Turn round before I fuckin’ make you.”

You squeal when his fingers press indents into the fat of your hips and spin you, a corded forearm pushing on the back of your neck to hold your cheek against the wall.

“Count.”

“Rafe, stop! ‘s embarrassing.”

His lips press to the shell of your ear. “I don’t fuckin’ care if you’re embarrassed, kid. Count ‘em, or it’ll be worse for you.”

You choke a sob against the brick that grates at your skin, no doubt rubbing it raw, wrestling with the tears that slip down your flaming cheeks as he delivers the first blow.

“O-one.”

“Attagirl,” he murmurs, granting you temporary reprieve with a kiss to the curve of your jaw.

The next three come in quick succession, and you writhe, reciting the numbers obediently through the lump in your throat.

“Five.”

“Six.”

“Seven.”

By the eighth, you’re crying in earnest, any dignity you had somehow clung to slipping through your fingers as you sniffle at him with teary eyes.

His nose nudges at your cheekbone, his breath a ghostly touch against your scrunched features.

“Two more, kid.”

You swipe spitefully at your swollen eyes, lips pushing out into a pout as you fight back another onslaught of tears.

“Hurts,” you snivel.

“‘s supposed to, dummy.” Your ass is raw and you hiss and jerk as he delivers the last two before he’s finally freeing you of his grip, watching as you smooth down your clothes and drunkenly cuss and hiccup at him. He quirks an eyebrow in a clear warning that has the words dying in your throat, features crumpling further with every second he’s not consoling you.

Your lips are swollen, face flushed and ruddy from Rafe’s rough hands; you let him hike you up by your armpits and draw you into his chest, pressing your stinging cheek to his shoulder.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. “Feelin’ better?”

You don’t deign to answer, needling your way further into his warm body and going boneless.

“You’re mean,” you purl, muffled through the fabric of his shirt.

“I know. I’m awful,” he concedes, smearing a kiss to the crown of your skull. Your eyelids fall shut at the tender contact, such a stark contrast to the way he’s been manhandling you.

“‘s time to go?” you ask, limply twitching in his grasp.

“Yeah. Let’s go home, kid.”

[r1z3n]

You know I talked about Unhinged Tim & Dick

but I want to talk about Jason and Dick.

Cause yeah Jason didn't necessarily learn from Dick like Tim did but that is because Dick was never expected to be an authority to Jason. (Not just narratively but in canon if we pay attention to it. Dick was never expected to take care of Jason the same way he was for every sibling afterwards)

That means they probably play by different rules. They are probably close in that way that everyone would be like 'they hate each other'.

Dick and Jason probably don't even realize it. To them it is just how it is.

Like yeah of course they will tear each other apart verbally, then flip around ready to eviscerate anyone else that tried, and all would be forgiven with a shitty cold convenience store coffee with the correct amount of sugar and cream.

Oh yeah, Jason knows about every person Dick every killed or got close to killing, as cop/mercenary/spy/vigilante, except you know Joker, because it never came up. Dick brought the others up during a fight when Jason tried to be "oh boo hoo, you wouldn't know".

Dick, what do you mean YOU KNEW ABOUT THE GLOWING SWORDS? Dick sipping Starbucks raised eyebrow of Judgement 'you didn't?' To be fair he only found out because they were watching a supernatural episode (because 100% Jason had a phase as a preteen and now wants to get the new spn memes context even if he is gonna hate it), and well it couldn't hurt to double check. They were Fine and the swords were cool. Now they have semi every other weekend plans for the next few years, and Constantine gets nervous around them.

Jason and Dick just know all secrets of each other, but ask them what the other's favorite color is or some like surface level thing, and you gonna get 'why the fuck would I know that?.

They also probably don't realize how unhinged the other is, in a way that makes them even more unhinged together because 'well if they are like this then i need to match it' until you know suddenly you have villains and goons begging for any other pair after them. Red Hood, they can deal with. Nightwing, they can deal with. Red Hood and Nightwing, and suddenly harden criminals are screaming for Batman to save them. Much to the two's bafflement.

Even more baffling an old boy goon looking at Nightwing, going 'he brings out the first robin in you boy." like one says "he brings out the demon in you."

[pandapetals]

Shadows of the Past

You’d been in town for exactly one year, two days, and six hours when he walked into the diner. After that, everything changed. Logan became the love of your life and the two of you bonded over trauma in the past while trying to move forward. *or basically a wolverine origins movie AU of sorts.

a/n: decided to post this fic on here all in one go so yall don't have to go to ao3. i wrote this months ago when i first joined the fandom so it may not be the best or edited well and i don't feel like reading it to make sure.

lumberjack logan howlett x fem!reader - no use of y/n, no reader description but reader does have mutant powers, x-men origins au, evenutal smut, small town, memory loss, angst, eventual romance, softie logan

word count: 27k

divider credit: @enchanthings

In the heart of a remote, small town, ancient trees towered like sentinels over the quiet streets, their canopies forming a vast, emerald roof that seemed to stretch on forever. The few who lived here either cherished the untouched beauty of the wilderness or were lumberjacks, carving out their lives one tree at a time. It was the perfect place to disappear.

That was why you chose it—after stumbling upon the town during a restless drive, searching for somewhere to lay low for the night.

People kept to themselves, though you caught the occasional whisper with your name in it. You couldn’t blame them—any newcomer in a place like this would set nerves on edge. But over time, you proved you were just like them. You took a job as a waitress at the local diner and settled into the motel down the road, quietly trying to carve out a life for yourself.

No one thought twice about you—until he showed up. You’d been in town for exactly one year, two days, and six hours when he walked into the diner. His rugged features and rough manner could have easily blended in with the locals, but something about him stood out like a dark cloud on the horizon. 

Everyone could sense something was simmering beneath the surface. He had the look of a man itching for a fight, desperate to feel anything at all. The last thing folks wanted here was trouble—and neither did you. You had run from men like him before.

He slid into one of the booths, his eyes sweeping the room with a calculating gaze. A tight white tank peeked out from beneath an unbuttoned plaid shirt, as if he wore the local uniform but with a defiant edge.

You had no choice but to face him. Being the only waitress meant there was no one else to send.

With a steadying breath, you picked up a menu and cautiously approached the booth, forcing a smile as you set it down in front of him. He didn’t glance up, didn’t even flinch. His eyes remained locked on the large window, something outside holding his attention in a vise-like grip.

“Welcome to the Rusty Spoon. What can I get you?” you asked, your voice steady but tinged with an edge of unease.

“You live here?” His eyes stayed fixed on the window as if the answer didn’t matter as much as what he was watching.

You nodded slowly, then noticed his gaze shifted. “Yeah. Who’s asking?” You tried to sound tough, but the words came out shaky, betraying your nerves.

Finally, he turned his head and looked up at you, his brown eyes intense, pinning you in place. “Someone who’s trying to—” He stopped mid-sentence, his gaze locking onto yours. For a moment, his tough exterior faltered, and something in his eyes made you pause. There was a pain there, deep and raw, and suddenly, you realized he wasn’t the man you first thought he was.

“It’s a good place to live,” you replied quickly, cutting him off before he could finish. “Folks keep to themselves, and hardly anyone passes through.” You could sense his unease, like a ripple beneath the surface, something unspoken lingering in the air between you.

He nodded, but his gaze remained locked on yours, intense and searching. You raised an eyebrow and gestured to the menu in front of him. “You gonna order, or do I have to kick you out?”

A slight chuckle escaped him. “I’ll have a coffee.”

“A man your size needs more than just coffee,” you teased, trying to lift the mood, though the tension still hung in the air. “I reckon you could use some breakfast.”

He shrugged, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Sure, whatever you think.”

You grabbed the menu from the table and made your way back to the counter, tossing it into the bin with the others. Though you felt more at ease, you couldn’t help but keep an eye on the mystery man. It wasn’t because you thought he was dangerous—there was just something about him, something different.

After placing his food and coffee down, you watched as he stared at it, lost in thought.

“Something wrong? You don’t like eggs?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He shook his head slowly. “No, I mean... I like them.”

You chuckled, leaning in a bit closer. “Not a man of many words, are you?”

“Guess not.”

You hesitated for a moment, then sat across from him. “I can tell you’re running from something,” you said, your voice soft but probing. “I know the feeling. I ran, too, and this place has been my solace ever since.”

You weren’t sure why you were sharing this with him. Maybe you sensed a kindred spirit. Maybe it was simple curiosity. Or maybe, after all this time, you just needed someone to talk to. It felt strange, but also comforting, to finally meet someone new in this small, quiet town.

“I’m not running,” he finally said, picking up the fork and taking a deliberate bite of his eggs.

You sighed, leaning back slightly. “Everyone runs from something. It’s human nature. We run from our problems, our worries... maybe even from someone.”

He looked up, his brows furrowed. “Look, you seem nice, but I’m not here to chat.”

“Sorry,” you muttered, stepping back as you stood up, the brief connection slipping away as quickly as it had formed. “I’ll be over there if you need anything.” You gestured toward the counter before hurrying away.

Why had you done that? You’d let your guard down to some stranger.

Shaking off the thought, you busied yourself with work, tending to the two other customers in the diner, hoping the routine would steady your nerves.

But no matter how hard you tried, your thoughts kept drifting back to him. The way his eyes had darkened when you mentioned running, the tension in his voice when he’d brushed you off. There was something there, something he wasn’t saying.

You wiped down the counter, your movements automatic, while your mind spun with possibilities. Was he in trouble? Or was he just someone who preferred to keep his past buried? You had a feeling it was more than that, though. The pain you’d glimpsed in his eyes felt too raw, too recent.

The bell above the diner’s door jingled, snapping you out of your thoughts. You turned just in time to see him walk out, his steps rough and hurried. A pang of concern flared inside you as you rushed to the booth.

A few crumpled bills lay on the table next to a half-eaten plate. The food was cold and untouched, save for a few bites. His coffee was still steaming in its cup.

You lingered there for a moment, staring at the scene he’d left behind, a knot tightening in your chest. Had you driven him away?

─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────

A few days passed, but your thoughts kept drifting back to the mystery man. You hadn’t seen him around town since that morning, leading you to assume he’d left for good. Yet, despite yourself, something inside you longed to see him again.

You sighed, burying your face in your hands. The effect this man had on you was unsettling. You had never felt this way before—so drawn to someone you barely knew.

You got ready for work in a daze, your mind still tangled up in thoughts of the mystery man. His presence lingered in your mind like a half-forgotten dream, unsettling and yet impossible to shake. You barely noticed the routine of pulling on your uniform, grabbing your keys, and locking the door behind you as you headed out.

The drive into town took you down the familiar long, winding road, the early morning mist curling around the trees like ghostly fingers. Normally, you find this stretch of road calming, a moment to gather your thoughts before the day begins. But today, your mind was elsewhere—back at the diner, replaying the brief moments you’d spent with him. The intensity of his gaze, the way his voice had wavered when he spoke, the pain you’d seen lurking beneath the surface.

You were so lost in thought that you didn’t see the truck in front of you until it was too late. Your car slammed into it with a sickening crunch of metal, jolting you violently against the seatbelt. The airbag deployed, the sudden impact knocking the breath out of you.

For a moment, you just sat there, dazed, your heart pounding in your chest. The smell of burnt rubber and the hiss of escaping steam filled the air. Slowly, you unbuckled your seatbelt and pushed the door open, stumbling out of the car. A few cuts and bruises marked your arms and legs, but otherwise, you were fine.

You looked up at the truck you’d rear-ended, your stomach sinking as you saw the damage. The back of the truck was dented and scraped, but what caught your attention was the man stepping out of the driver’s side.

It was him.

The mystery man turned around, and your eyes widened in shock. A large gash marred his forehead, blood trickling down the side of his face.

“Are you okay?” you blurted out, rushing over to him. Panic surged through you. “We need to get you to a hospital—”

He waved you off, his expression unreadable. “I’ll be fine,” he muttered, his voice gruff. “It’s just a scratch.”

“A scratch? You’re bleeding!” you insisted, your hands shaking. 

As he turned away, something caught your eye. The gash on his forehead—impossibly—was healing itself. You watched, stunned, as the torn skin slowly knit back together, the blood drying and vanishing as if it had never been there.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat as you watched the wound disappear completely, leaving behind nothing but smooth, unblemished skin. 

“What…?” The word barely made it past your lips, disbelief washing over you like a cold wave.

He glanced back at you, catching the shock in your eyes. “I told you, I’m fine,” he said, his voice low and steady, but there was a warning in his tone now.

Your mind reeled, trying to make sense of what you’d just seen. Was it a trick of the light? Or were your eyes playing some cruel joke on you? Yet the evidence was right there in front of you—there was no denying what you had witnessed.

“You’re one of them,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “A mutant?”

He didn’t respond immediately. His intense brown eyes met yours, filled with a mix of resignation and something deeper, something you couldn’t quite place. “You need to forget what you just saw,” he said softly, his tone heavy with an unspoken warning that made your stomach twist.

“I can’t just forget—” you started, but your words died in your throat as he turned back toward you, his eyes still intense and dark.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, a weary look settling over his face. “I’m just trying to start over, bub. I don’t need folks knowing I’m a mutant.”

You stood there, your heart pounding, trying to process everything. The man in front of you—this mysterious, gruff stranger—wasn’t just anyone. He was a mutant, someone with abilities far beyond the ordinary. Someone like… you.

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” you finally managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. “Is that why you asked about living here?”

He held your gaze for a long moment as if trying to decide whether to trust you with the truth. Finally, he sighed, the weight of his past heavy in his eyes. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I need a place like this… where people don’t ask too many questions. Where they just leave you alone.”

You nodded, understanding all too well the need to escape, to find a place where the past couldn’t reach you. “I get it,” you said, surprised by the steadiness in your voice.

He scoffed, a bitter smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “What’s a pretty woman like you gotta run from?”

You hesitated, feeling an unexpected pull toward this man—this stranger who somehow felt more familiar than he should. “Stuff,” you said softly, almost confessing everything but you held back. “Doesn’t really matter. I left it behind when I came here.”

He studied you for a moment, his eyes narrowing as if trying to see past the words, to the truth beneath them. The bitter smile faded, replaced by something more sincere, almost understanding. “We all got our demons, I guess,” he said quietly. “Places like this are good for that—keeping them buried.”

You nodded, the words striking a chord deep within you. For a moment, the two of you just stood there, the quiet morning air thick with unspoken understanding. You felt an odd sense of comfort in his presence like you weren’t as alone as you’d always believed.

“Maybe,” you ventured, breaking the silence, “we don’t have to keep them buried forever. Maybe we just need… time.”

He looked at you with a mixture of surprise and something softer, something that hinted at the man behind the guarded exterior. “Time, huh? I’ve got plenty of that. Trust me, it doesn’t change a damn thing.”

The weight of his words hit you—the exhaustion, the loneliness. It mirrored your own, a reflection of the life you’d been leading since you came to this town, hiding in plain sight. You sighed, turning to your car and rubbing your forehead. It was totaled, no doubt.

“Well, I guess I’m screwed,” you muttered, kicking the tire in frustration.

“It was my fault. I stopped because I thought I saw a squirrel in the road,” he said, stepping closer. “I can give you a lift. Where were you headed?”

You laughed, not because it was funny, but because you could see he was lying. It all felt like a stroke of bad luck. The kind that left you wondering if the universe was laughing at your expense. In the chaos, you’d completely forgotten about work—and the fact that you were now late.

“I’m supposed to be at the diner,” you replied, almost absentmindedly, as the reality of the situation began to sink in. Then you looked up at him, shaking your head. “Sorry, but there’s no way I’m getting a lift from you. You’re a stranger. I don’t even know your name.”

He nodded, his eyes softening. “Logan.”

“Logan,” you repeated, the name lingering on your tongue as if trying to find a place in your thoughts, but instead of offering your own, you simply let his name hang in the air between you.

The practical side of you quickly took over. You glanced back at your totaled car, feeling a surge of frustration and helplessness. There was no way you were getting to work on time now, and the idea of walking into town was equally unappealing.

Logan seemed to sense your hesitation. “Look,” he said, his voice softer, almost gentle. “I get it. You don’t know me, and you’ve got every reason to be cautious. But I’m not here to hurt you. I just want to help.”

You studied his face, searching for any sign of dishonesty, but all you found was a tired sincerity in his eyes. There was a part of you that still wanted to push him away, to keep the walls up. But another part of you—a part that had been growing quieter and more lonely since you’d arrived in this town—wanted to take the risk, to trust him, if only for a moment.

“Alright,” you said, your voice firm but still holding a trace of uncertainty. “Just to the diner.” 

Logan nodded, seeming to understand your need for boundaries. “Fair enough,” he replied. “I’ll take you to the diner. We can figure out what to do with your car after that.”

With a reluctant sigh, you agreed, walking around to the passenger side of his truck. The door creaked as you opened it, and you hesitated for just a second before climbing in. The seat was worn and the cab smelled faintly of oil and something earthy, like damp leaves. It was clear this truck had seen a lot of miles, just like its owner.

Logan slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine, the rumble of the truck vibrating through the seat. For a few moments, the two of you rode in silence, the winding road passing by outside the window.

As you got closer to town, the reality of the situation began to settle in. You were sitting in a truck with a man who, just moments ago, had been a stranger. A man who had revealed an impossible ability—a mutant, like you. The thought sent a shiver down your spine, not from fear, but from the sudden understanding that your life might be about to change in ways you hadn’t anticipated.

“You mentioned you were trying to start over,” you said, breaking the silence. “I don’t mean to be nosy, but why?”

Logan kept his eyes on the road, his expression unreadable. “Yeah, well, you are being nosy,” he replied, though he didn’t stop there. “Just seemed like a good place to disappear.”

Disappear. The word echoed in your mind, striking a chord with your reasons for coming to this town. You, too, had been searching for a place to hide, to leave the past behind.

 As the diner came into view, you found yourself hesitant to leave the safety of the truck, of Logan’s company. There was a strange comfort in knowing you weren’t the only one with secrets, that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t have to face them alone.

He pulled into the parking lot and put the truck in park, glancing over at you. “You gonna be alright?”

You nodded, though the uncertainty still lingered. “Yeah,” you said, more to convince yourself than him. “I’ll be fine.”

But as you reached for the door handle, something stopped you. “Logan,” you said, turning to face him. “Thanks for the ride.”

He nodded, his gaze softening again. “I owed you.” 

With that, you stepped out of the truck and into the crisp morning air, the weight of the day ahead pressing down on you. But as you walked toward the diner, you couldn’t help but feel a spark of something new—hope, maybe, or the beginning of a connection you hadn’t expected.

As Logan’s truck pulled away, you realized that, for the first time in a long while, you weren’t entirely alone.

─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────

You weren’t sure how you’d get home, especially with your car left abandoned in the middle of the road. The thought gnawed at you throughout your shift but just a few minutes before the end of it, the door jingled, and you glanced up. Logan stepped into the diner, his presence both unexpected and strangely reassuring. 

His eyes scanned the diner, searching until they found you behind the counter, wiping down a plate. You offered a small, uncertain smile, still unsure of what to make of this man who seemed to keep reappearing in your life.

He made his way to the counter, the floorboards creaking slightly under his weight. As he approached, the diner seemed to grow quieter, the hum of conversation fading into the background.

“Guessing you still need a ride?” he asked, his voice low, almost as if he didn’t want to disturb the fragile peace that had settled between you.

You hesitated, glancing down at the plate in your hands, now spotless from your nervous scrubbing. The practical side of you knew you needed help getting home, but another part of you—the part that had learned to be cautious, to avoid relying on anyone—whispered warnings in the back of your mind.

Still, there was something about Logan that made you want to take the risk.

“Yeah,” you finally replied, setting the plate aside and meeting his gaze. “I guess I do.”

Logan nodded as if he’d expected your answer. “I’ll wait outside,” he said, turning to leave before you could say anything more.

You quickly finished up your tasks, your mind racing. There was something about Logan—something you couldn’t quite put your finger on—that both intrigued and unsettled you.

You clocked out, grabbed your things, and headed outside, where Logan was leaning against his truck, hands in his pockets. The early evening air was cool, the sky tinged with the pinks and purples of a setting sun.

“Ready?” he asked as you approached, his tone casual, but his eyes still held that same unreadable depth.

“Yeah,” you replied, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

You climbed into the truck, the door creaking in protest. Logan started the engine, and the familiar rumble filled the cab. For a few moments, neither of you spoke, the silence filled only by the sound of tires on asphalt as he pulled out of the diner’s parking lot.

As he drove down the winding road toward your place, you stole glances at him, trying to piece together the puzzle that was Logan. There was so much you didn’t know about him, and yet, there was a strange sense of comfort in his presence.

Finally, you broke the silence. “Thanks for this. I wasn’t sure how I was going to get home.”

“Least I could do,” he replied, eyes fixed on the road. 

You nodded, though he couldn’t see it. “Why’d you come back?” 

Logan glanced at you briefly before returning his attention to the road. “Figured you’d need help getting home.”

A few minutes passed in comfortable silence before your place came into view. You directed him to pull into the driveway, the truck coming to a stop with a low rumble. Neither of you made a move to get out right away.

“Thanks again, Logan,” you said, your voice softer now, almost reluctant to let go of this strange, unexpected connection.

He nodded, finally turning to meet your gaze. “It was no trouble,” he said, his tone light, though there was a flicker of something more in his eyes. You hesitated, your hand resting on the door handle, sensing he had something else to say. His lips parted slightly as if weighing the words.

“I got a job,” he said, almost as if testing how it would sound out loud.

Your eyes widened in surprise. “That’s great! I guess I’ll be seeing you in more plaid then.”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “How did you know?”

You returned the smile. “Most men around here are lumberjacks. It’s the best work.”

Logan’s smile lingered for a moment before he turned his gaze back to the windshield. “Yeah, lumberjacking,” he said as if trying on the word for size. “It’s honest work. Keeps you busy.”

“Hard work, too,” you added, leaning back in your seat, feeling a mix of relief and something you couldn’t quite name. “But I guess that’s what you’re looking for.”

He nodded, the lightness in his voice giving way to something more serious. “Keeps me out of trouble,” he said, though there was an edge to his tone, a hint of the trouble he was alluding to.

We both fell silent again, the air thick with unspoken words. There was so much you wanted to ask him, to understand about this man who had somehow become a part of your life in a single day. But you held back, knowing that pushing too hard could drive him away.

Instead, you settled for something simpler. “Well, if you ever need a good meal after a long day, you know where to find me.”

He looked over at you, his expression softening. “I might just take you up on that,” he said, his voice carrying a warmth that surprised you.

You smiled, feeling a strange comfort in the idea of seeing him again. “I’ll hold you to it.”

With that, the moment passed, and you both knew it was time to part ways. You reached for the door handle again, this time more decisively. “Good luck with the job, Logan,” you said as you stepped out of the truck, the cool evening air brushing against your skin.

“Thanks,” he replied, watching you for a moment longer before turning his gaze back to the windshield. “Be more careful.”

You nodded, closing the door behind you, and watched as he pulled out of your driveway, the truck’s taillights glowing faintly in the gathering dusk. You stood there for a moment, your hands in your pockets, feeling the quiet of the evening settle around you.

As the sound of his truck faded into the distance, you couldn’t help but wonder what tomorrow would bring. There was a sense of change in the air, a feeling that your life was shifting in ways you hadn’t anticipated. But for once, it didn’t scare you. Instead, it filled you with cautious hope, the kind that made you think maybe, just maybe, you were done running.

You turned and headed toward your front door, a small smile playing on your lips. Whatever was coming, you felt ready to face it—one day at a time.

─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────

Sunlight peeked through your curtains as you sat up in bed, stifling a yawn. The quiet of living surrounded by nothing but forest filled your ears—an almost tangible silence—until it was broken by a sudden knock at the door.

You groaned, reluctantly crawling out of bed to throw on an oversized shirt before heading to the front door. Cautiously, you peered through the peephole and saw Logan standing there, fidgeting slightly. He wore a dark blue plaid shirt, the top few buttons undone, revealing a glimpse of his chest.

Your brows knitted together in confusion as you wondered what he was doing here, especially this early. Slowly, you unlocked the door and pulled it open. “Hey,” you greeted him, crossing your arms, both curious and guarded.

His eyes wandered over you, his brow lifting in question. “You’re not ready?”

“Why would I be?” you replied, confusion clouding your features as you looked up at him.

“I thought you might need a ride to work again,” he said, his tone casual but his eyes searching yours for a reaction.

“Oh, I should’ve told you yesterday—I’m off today. Sorry about that,” you said, a hint of embarrassment creeping into your voice. 

He nodded, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “No worries. I was just passing by.”

“Shouldn’t you be chopping down trees?” you teased, a playful glint in your eye.

Logan chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. “You caught me. I’m on my way now. Just thought I’d see if you needed a ride.” 

The gesture took you by surprise. It was small, but it hinted at a concern that you weren’t used to, especially from someone you’d only just met. “That’s... really nice of you,” you said, dropping your arms to your sides, your guard softening a bit more.

He shrugged, though the smile lingered. “Figure it’s the least I can do after yesterday.”

You nodded, appreciating his thoughtfulness more than you expected. “Well, I appreciate it.”

There was a brief, comfortable silence between you, the kind that felt less like an ending and more like a pause—like there was more to say, but neither of you was quite ready to say it.

“So, you gonna be okay without a car?” he asked, finally breaking the silence.

You glanced back toward the driveway, where your car sat after being towed home, still banged up from the other day. “I’ll have to get it towed into town,” you said, a hint of frustration in your voice. “But I’ll manage.”

Logan nodded. “If you need help with that, just let me know. I’ve got some tools, could take a look or maybe once I make some money I could help you buy a new one.”

“Thanks,” you replied, touched by his offer. “You’ve done a lot already.”

“Alright, I’ll let you get back to your day. Don’t wanna keep you.”

You gave him a small smile, feeling an unexpected reluctance to see him go. “Good luck with the trees.”

He chuckled, the sound easing the lingering tension. “Yeah, thanks. Take care, okay?”

“You too, Logan,” you said, watching as he turned and walked back to his truck.

As he drove away, you stood there for a moment, feeling the warmth of the morning sun on your face. The encounter had left you with a strange mixture of emotions—gratitude, curiosity, and a faint sense of anticipation. Logan was becoming more than just the stranger who had helped you out. He was someone you were beginning to feel connected to, in a way that both excited and unnerved you.

With a deep breath, you turned back inside, closing the door behind you. 

You hadn’t expected to see Logan again so soon. Your day had been busy—cleaning the house, flipping through the phonebook, and using the landline to call local mechanics. The morning slipped into the evening quickly, the hours blurring together in a steady rhythm of tasks.

You had just finished making dinner, the scent of food filling the kitchen, a beer in hand, when a familiar knock echoed through the quiet, catching you off guard. Quickly, you made your way to the door, a sense of recognition washing over you—Logan. You could tell it was him even before you opened it, just from the energy he brought with him. 

“Hello again,” you greeted him with a grin, leaning casually against the doorframe. “I guess you just can’t get enough of me, huh?”

Logan chuckled, the corners of his mouth lifting into a faint smile. “Maybe,” he replied, his tone light but his eyes still holding that intensity you were starting to get used to. “Or maybe I just figured I’d check in. See how you’re doing.”

You raised an eyebrow, pretending to consider his words. “So, you’re playing the concerned neighbor now?” you teased, though you couldn’t deny the warmth his gesture stirred within you.

“Something like that,” he said, leaning slightly against the doorframe opposite you. “Plus, I figured you might need some help with your car.”

“I wasn’t expecting a mechanic at my door, but I’m not complaining,” you said, your grin widening. “Dinner’s just about ready. If you don’t mind a little company while you wait, you’re welcome to stay.”

Logan hesitated for a moment as if weighing his options. “I wouldn’t want to impose,” he finally said, though his eyes betrayed a hint of interest.

“It’s no imposition,” you assured him. “Consider it my way of saying thanks for the ride yesterday—and for coming back today.”

He nodded, accepting your invitation with a small, grateful smile. “Alright then,” he said. “I could use a good meal.”

You stepped aside, letting him in. As he walked past you into the warm, cozy kitchen, you noticed the subtle tension in his posture ease slightly, as if the atmosphere of your home provided a welcome change from whatever he was used to.

“Make yourself comfortable,” you said, gesturing toward the small dining table. “I’ll grab you a plate.”

Logan took a seat, glancing around the kitchen as if taking in the details. “Smells good,” he remarked, his voice softer now, less guarded.

“Thanks,” you replied, setting a plate in front of him before sitting down across from him. “It’s nothing fancy, but it’ll fill you up.”

He nodded, picking up his fork and taking a bite. For a few moments, the two of you ate in comfortable silence, the quiet punctuated only by the clinking of silverware. There was something oddly intimate about the moment—sharing a meal, the easy quiet between you. It felt natural like this wasn’t the first time you’d sat across from each other at the table.

After a while, Logan looked up, his eyes meeting yours. “You didn’t have to invite me in, you know.”

You shrugged, offering a warm smile. “I know, but I wanted to.” You paused, setting your fork down. “Besides, you’re not as scary as you try to be.”

“Guess you’ve got me all figured out,” Logan replied, a playful glint in his eyes.

You watched him for a moment, the smile tugging at your lips growing a little wider. “Maybe,” you said with a teasing lilt. “Anyway, how was your first day? Chopping trees and all?”

Logan leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression crossing his face as he considered your question. “It was… different,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair. “But it’s honest work. That counts for something, I suppose—more than what I used to do.”

There it was—a crack in his carefully constructed walls. A small, revealing glimpse into Logan’s past. But was it an invitation to know more or just a slip-up?

“I don’t know why I said that,” he admitted, shaking his head slightly as if trying to make sense of it himself. “Something about you… makes me want to spill my guts.”

You chuckled nervously, your lips pursed as you tried to process his unexpected admission. Logan’s eyes narrowed slightly, picking up on the shift in your demeanor as your gaze flickered away from his. “I have a way of soothing people—calming them down,” you offered, trying to deflect the tension.

His eyes studied you intently, a new spark of interest igniting. “You’re like me, aren’t you?” he asked quietly. “A mutant?”

You nodded, a wave of guilt washing over you. It felt like you’d been hiding something from Logan, even though he hadn’t asked directly. “Figures. I moved here to get away from being called a mutant, only to have one find me,” you said, a wry smile tugging at your lips.

“I ran because I didn’t fit in,” you admitted, your voice quieter now. “My parents… they didn’t understand. They wanted to fix me, cure this disease as they called it. So, I turned to people I thought did understand—other mutants. Except they didn’t just want to live in peace. They wanted to rebel. If humans didn’t understand us, then we’d make them.”

Logan’s expression hardened as you continued your story. “I thought I was making a positive change in the world. Who cared if people got hurt in the process, as long as we got what we wanted… power but I realized too late that wasn’t what I wanted to fight for. By then, I’d already created enemies, and killed innocent people—”

You trailed off, feeling your emotions spiral out of control, the weight of your past pressing down on you. Taking a deep breath, you tried to steady yourself, pushing the memories back down. “Anyway,” you continued, “I ran. I ran for a long time until I found this place and decided to call it home.”

Logan shifted slightly in his chair, his hand instinctively reaching across the table, but you shook your head, stopping him. “I make you feel calm because that’s my gift,” you explained, your voice steady but laced with caution. “I do it without even realizing it. I can intensify any emotion, and if I were to touch you… I’d feel your strongest emotion and amplify it. The same goes for memories. I can change the emotions you felt, manipulate them.”

Logan’s hand froze mid-reach, his expression hardening as he processed what you’d just said. His eyes, which had been soft with concern moments ago, now held a flicker of something else—wary curiosity, maybe even fear.

“You can change memories?” he asked, his voice low, almost as if he was testing the words on his tongue.

You nodded slowly, your heart heavy with the truth you’d just revealed. “It’s not something I do lightly,” you said, trying to ease the tension you felt building between you. “I’ve learned to control it, to keep my distance when I need to but the ability is always there, under the surface.”

Logan’s gaze bore into you, searching for something—reassurance, perhaps, or maybe the boundaries of your power. “So, if you wanted to… you could make me feel something that never happened?”

“Or change how you feel about something that did,” you admitted, feeling a pang of guilt at how vulnerable that made him. “But I wouldn’t. Not without reason. It’s not who I want to be.”

He leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable, a long silence stretching between you. It was the kind of silence that felt like a crossroads—where trust could either be built or shattered.

Finally, he sighed, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “That’s a lot of power to carry around,” he said, his tone softer now, less guarded.

“It is,” you agreed, relief washing over you as you saw the tension in him ease. “It’s why I’ve been so careful. Why I ran. I didn’t want to hurt anyone anymore.”

Logan nodded, his gaze softening again as he looked at you, understanding beginning to replace the earlier wariness. “It sounds like you’ve been carrying this burden for a long time.”

You swallowed, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. “Yeah,” you said quietly. “Too long.”

There was another pause, this one less tense, more contemplative. Logan seemed to be weighing something in his mind, his eyes studying you with a depth that made your heart race.

“I guess we’ve both got our share of secrets,” he finally said, his tone almost resigned, as if accepting the complexity of what lay between you.

You offered him a small, tentative smile. “It’s not easy to trust, but I can sense you understand better than anyone.”

He nodded a flicker of hesitation in his gaze. “Yeah. I guess this is the part where I tell you why I’m here?”

“Only if you want to,” you replied, giving him a small shrug. “We don’t have to swap war stories just because I told you mine.”

Logan leaned back in his chair, his gaze dropping to the table as if he were searching for the right words. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the internal struggle of whether to share what he’d kept hidden for so long. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he began to speak, his voice low and gravelly.

“My brother and I… we’ve been fighting our whole lives,” he started, his tone resigned but tinged with a weariness that spoke of years of battles, both literal and figurative. “We’ve fought in every major war you’ve heard of, and plenty you haven’t. We’re old—older than you’d believe. Back then, it felt like fighting was all we knew, all we were good at.”

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle over the room. You didn’t press him, sensing that this was as difficult for him as your story had been for you.

“After the Vietnam War ended, things changed,” he continued, his voice taking on a darker edge. “We were approached by a group—a mutant group called Team X. They promised us purpose, a place where we could belong. We were soldiers, after all, and that’s what we did best. My brother, Victor, was all in from the start. He always had a taste for violence, even when it wasn’t necessary. He thrived in that environment.”

Logan’s expression tightened, a flicker of pain crossing his features as he spoke about his brother. “But me… I started to see things differently. Team X wasn’t just about fighting battles—they were about control, about power at any cost. And Victor… he embraced that. Started killing people just because he could, because it made him feel strong. Innocent people. I couldn’t be a part of that.”

He looked up at you then, his eyes filled with a mix of regret and resolve. “So I walked away. Left the team, and left my brother. Tried to find some kind of peace, if that’s even possible for someone like me. But Victor… he didn’t stop. He kept going, kept killing, and I’ve been running from it ever since.”

You watched him in silence, the weight of his confession heavy between you. It was clear that Logan carried the scars of his past deeply, that his brother’s betrayal had cut him in ways that were hard to put into words.

“I guess that’s why I’m here,” he said, his voice softening. “Looking for a place to hide, to forget. But it’s not so easy, is it? No matter how far you run, the past has a way of catching up.”

You nodded, understanding all too well the truth in his words. “No, it’s not easy,” you agreed quietly. “But it sounds like you made the right choice. Walking away, even when it cost you everything.”

Logan looked at you, the corners of his mouth twitching into something that might have been a smile, though it was more sadness than anything else. “Maybe…but it doesn’t change what happened. Doesn’t change who I am.”

“I guess that makes two of us,” you replied, your voice soft but steady.

There was a long pause as the two of you sat there, letting the weight of what had been shared settle between you. It was a strange feeling, this mutual vulnerability. You had each opened up parts of yourselves that were usually kept hidden, and in doing so, had created a bond—fragile, but undeniably real.

The two of you sat there for a moment longer, letting the words linger in the air, before Logan finally stood up, pushing his chair back with a gentle scrape. “I should probably get going,” he said, though his voice was reluctant.

You nodded, standing up as well. “Yeah, big day tomorrow,” you said, offering him a genuine smile. “And thanks for stopping by. Don’t worry about fixing my car—I know you were lying about stopping to save the squirrel.”

Logan chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Yeah, you caught me,” he admitted, a playful glint in his eyes. “I figured the squirrel excuse was better than admitting you were the one who rear-ended me.” 

You shook your head, amused by his honesty. You felt a warmth spread through you as he headed for the door but before he opened it, he paused, glancing back at you. “You sure you’ll be okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” you assured him, your tone light but sincere.

Logan nodded, his gaze holding yours for a moment longer as if he was weighing whether or not to say something else. But instead, he simply gave you a small, reassuring smile. “Alright then. I’ll see you in the morning unless your car magically fixes itself.”

“Okay.” you smiled, watching as he finally turned the knob and stepped out into the cool night air.

You stood by the door for a moment after he left, listening to the fading sound of his truck as it rumbled down the driveway and disappeared into the distance. The house felt quiet and still, but it wasn’t the kind of silence that made you uneasy. Instead, it felt like the calm after a storm—a moment of peace after the intensity of what had been shared.

As you turned away from the door and began to tidy up the kitchen, you couldn’t help but reflect on how much had changed in such a short amount of time. Logan’s unexpected presence in your life had stirred up feelings and memories you’d long tried to bury, but it had also given you something else—hope. Hope that you weren’t as alone as you’d always believed and that maybe, just maybe, there was a way to find peace with your past.

You sighed, leaning against the counter as you thought back to the conversation you’d had. The way Logan had opened up to you about his brother, about the wars and the pain he carried—it resonated with you in a way that few things ever had. There was a part of you that wanted to help him carry that burden, to share in the weight of it, just as he’d seemed willing to do with yours.

But you knew it wouldn’t be easy. Trust was a fragile thing, easily broken and difficult to rebuild. Yet, as you stood there in the quiet of your kitchen, you found yourself more willing to take that risk than you’d ever been before.

With a final glance at the door, you turned off the lights and headed to bed, feeling a strange mixture of exhaustion and anticipation. Tomorrow was a new day, and while you didn’t know exactly what it would bring, you felt more prepared to face it.

─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────

A month had passed, and your whole life had changed. Logan showed up every morning to pick you up and drop you off at work. With him around, fixing your car seemed unnecessary. On your days off, he’d come over after his work, and the two of you would share dinner.

You began to forget what life was like before he showed up. The days without him seemed distant, almost unreal as if they belonged to someone else’s story. Logan had become woven into the fabric of your everyday life, making the idea of going back to how things were feel impossible.

It wasn’t just the routines that had changed—it was everything. The quiet of your home no longer felt lonely, the days were filled with a sense of purpose, and the nights were shared with someone who understood the weight of your past. Logan wasn’t just a part of your life now; he was the anchor that kept you grounded.

The walls you’d once kept around your heart were slowly crumbling, and with each day that passed, you found yourself opening up to Logan more and more. He, in turn, shared pieces of his life with you—stories about his past, his experiences, and even his fears. The trust between you grew, a steady bond that neither of you took for granted.

One evening, after another quiet dinner, the two of you found yourselves lingering at the table, the conversation winding down but neither of you wanted to move. The night outside was still, the only sound was the gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze.

Logan broke the silence first. “You know,” he began, his voice soft, almost contemplative, “I never thought I’d find something like this.”

“Like what?” you asked, your curiosity piqued.

He looked at you, his expression serious yet warm. “This… peace. After everything I’ve been through, I didn’t think it was possible but you… you make it feel real like I can have a life without being a monster.”

“Logan. You aren’t a monster.” You said reaching across the table to gently take his hand. “We did what we thought was best and sometimes our best is all we can do.” 

Logan nodded, softly rubbing his thumb against your skin in a comforting manner. You sighed, leaning closer to him wishing moments like this never had to end. “You know, I didn’t think it was possible either,” you admitted, your voice just as soft. “ To have a life without chaos but somehow, here we are.”

He smiled a genuine, heartfelt expression that made your chest tighten in the best possible way. “Yeah,” he said, his tone almost reverent. “Here we are.”

The moment hung between you, charged with an unspoken energy. Your gaze drifted to Logan’s lips, slightly parted, as his eyes darkened. “We shouldn’t,” you murmured, though your voice wavered. Despite your words, you found yourself leaning closer, your arm brushing against his.

Every instinct screamed at you to leap out of your chair, to break the tension by jumping into his lap in a sudden burst of energy, but you stayed planted, caught between desire and restraint. 

Logan’s gaze didn’t waver, his eyes still locked on yours. The air between you seemed to thrum with the tension of what wasn’t being said, the words tangled up with everything you both wanted but were too afraid to reach for. His arm brushed against yours again, the contact sending a jolt of warmth through you, grounding you in the moment.

“I know we shouldn’t,” Logan finally whispered, his voice rough and low, as if he were struggling with the same emotions that were swirling inside you. “But it’s hard… being this close and pretending there’s nothing there.”

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breath, but your pulse was racing, and it was getting harder to remember why you had even said those words in the first place. “Logan…”

He shifted closer, the movement slow, deliberate. “Tell me to stop,” he murmured, though his tone suggested he wasn’t entirely sure he could. “Tell me, and I will.”

But you didn’t say anything. You couldn’t. Instead, you found yourself leaning in, the pull between you undeniable, your lips almost brushing his. 

And then, before either of you could change your mind, the distance disappeared.

His lips met yours with a quiet intensity that made your heart skip a beat. The world around you seemed to blur, narrowing down to the sensation of his mouth on yours, the warmth of his touch as his hand found its way to the small of your back, drawing you closer.

For a moment, everything else fell away—the doubts, the fears, the reasons you’d given yourself to keep your distance. All that mattered was this, the connection you’d been dancing around for weeks now, finally igniting.

You felt yourself relax into the kiss, your hand moving up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm. It was real, and for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe this was okay—that maybe, in Logan’s arms, you could find something good, something that wouldn’t be taken away by the past.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, you found Logan’s gaze on you, his eyes still dark but now filled with something softer—something that spoke of promises and a future that, for the first time, didn’t feel quite so uncertain.

“We should take this slow,” you managed to say, your voice a whisper, still trying to catch your breath.

Logan nodded, a small, understanding smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah,” he agreed, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek. “Slow is good. We’ve got time.”

You nodded too, feeling a sense of relief mixed with excitement. “Time,” you echoed, letting the word settle between you, a reminder that there was no need to rush—no need to force what was already building naturally between you.

Logan held his forehead against yours, his breath warm and steady, mingling with your own. For a long moment, neither of you moved, content to stay in that stillness, where words weren’t needed. It felt like the world outside had faded away, leaving just the two of you and the quiet connection you shared.

You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to be fully present in the moment. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, the strength in his arms as they wrapped around you, and the calm that settled over you as you breathed in his scent—earthy, familiar, grounding.

“I’ve been alone for so long,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that you felt more than heard. “I never thought… I never thought I’d find something like this. Like you.”

His words sent a warm flutter through your chest, a sensation that you weren’t entirely used to but were starting to crave. You opened your eyes, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. The vulnerability you saw there mirrored your own, and it made you want to hold on to him even tighter.

“You’re not alone anymore,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside you.

Logan’s eyes softened, and he nodded slightly as if acknowledging a truth that had taken him a long time to accept. “I know,” he said quietly, his hand moving up to gently cup the side of your face.

You leaned into his touch, feeling the warmth of his palm against your cheek, the comfort of his presence. It was a simple gesture, but it carried the weight of everything you both had been through—your pasts, your fears, your hopes for what might come next.

Eventually, Logan pulled back slightly, his hand still lingering on your cheek. “I should probably go,” he said, though there was a hint of reluctance in his voice.

You sighed, a wave of sadness washing over you. “Why don’t you stay? Please stay.”

He chuckled softly, raising an eyebrow. “What happened to taking it slow?”

“I’m not asking you to move in,” you replied with a small smile. “I bet you would get a better night's sleep here than at your place.”

Logan’s gaze softened, but there was a seriousness in his eyes. “I can’t. If I stay… I don’t think I can control myself.”

You held his gaze, your heart fluttering at the intensity in his eyes. “I trust you, Logan,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside you. “But I understand.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond, his eyes searching yours as if weighing his options. The air between you felt thick with unspoken words, with the tension of wanting something you both knew you needed to be careful with.

Finally, he sighed, a mix of frustration and restraint in his breath. “It’s not about trust,” he murmured, his voice rough. “It’s about wanting you too much, too soon.”

You nodded, feeling a pang of disappointment but also a sense of respect for his honesty. “Oh,” you whispered, not pushing any further. “Goodnight, Logan.”

His gaze softened further, and with a gentle touch, he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear before leaning in. His lips pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, a silent promise of patience and understanding.

“Goodnight,” he whispered back, his voice barely above a breath, before he finally stepped back, his hand trailing down your arm as he moved toward the door.

As he opened it, the cool night air rushed in stark contrast to the warmth that had filled the room moments before. You watched as he paused in the doorway, glancing back at you one last time, a small, almost reluctant smile on his lips.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, a promise in his tone.

“I’ll be here,” you replied, your voice steady, though your heart ached just a little as you watched him leave.

When the door closed behind him, the room felt emptier, the silence heavier. However, as you climbed into bed, pulling the covers up around you, you let yourself drift off to sleep with a smile on your face, the memory of Logan’s touch lingering on your skin like a promise.

─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of Logan’s truck pulling into the driveway. A familiar warmth spread through you at the thought of seeing him again. You dressed quickly, eager to be near him.

When you opened the door, Logan was already standing there, leaning against the side of his truck with his hands in his pockets. As you approached, he looked up, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Morning,” he greeted you, his voice warm but carrying a hint of something more—something that lingered from the night before.

“Morning,” you replied, matching his smile. Without hesitation, he pushed himself off the truck and pulled you into an embrace, pressing a soft kiss to your head.

“Why don’t you drive me to work and then use my truck to do whatever you want,” Logan suggested, his eyes meeting yours as you looked up at him.

You chuckled, the idea warming you. “Not much to do around here, but I’ll take you up on that offer.”

The drive was longer than you expected, but it gave you time to talk. Logan kept one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting comfortably on your thigh, his focus mostly on the road ahead. Now and then, he’d glance over at you, a small smile tugging at his lips, as if he couldn’t help but be reassured by your presence.

When you arrived at the lumberyard, Logan parked the truck and turned to face you. “I left some money in the glovebox for you.”

“Gee, maybe I can find something nice to buy,” you teased, leaning toward him with a playful grin.

Logan smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement as he leaned in closer, closing the small distance between you. “Just don’t spend it all in one place,” he quipped, his voice low and teasing.

You rolled your eyes, but the smile on your face gave away your amusement. “I’ll try to restrain myself,” you replied, the playful banter making the moment feel light and easy.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the proximity sparking a quiet tension between you. His gaze flickered down to your lips, and you could feel your heart start to race.

Logan hesitated, then pulled back slightly, a soft sigh escaping his lips. “I should get going,” he said, his voice still warm but now edged with the responsibility of the day ahead. “Don’t want to be late.”

You nodded, biting your lip to keep from asking him to stay. Logan reached out, his hand brushing lightly against your cheek, a tender touch that sent a shiver down your spine before he pulled away entirely. With one last lingering look, he opened the door and stepped out of the truck.

You cursed under your breath, sliding over to the driver's side and jumping out. “Logan,” you called, your voice urgent. He stopped in his tracks, turning around just as you reached him. Before he could say a word, you grabbed him by the neck, pulling him toward you, your lips crashing against his.

Logan stiffened for a brief moment, caught off guard by the suddenness of your kiss, but then he melted into it, his hands finding their way to your waist, pulling you closer. The world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of you standing there in the cool morning air, locked in a kiss that spoke of all the unspoken emotions that had been simmering between you.

His lips moved against yours with a tenderness that contrasted with the urgency of the moment as if he was trying to savor every second. You could feel the warmth of his breath, the steady beat of his heart as it pressed against your chest, and the way his hands tightened slightly on your waist, grounding you in the reality of what was happening.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, Logan’s eyes searched yours, a mix of surprise, desire, and something deeper that neither of you had put into words yet. His forehead rested against yours as both of you tried to catch your breath.

“What was that for?” he asked, his voice a low rumble, though the hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

You smiled, your breath coming in soft gasps. “Just… couldn’t let you walk away without doing that.”

His smile widened, and he leaned in, pressing another brief, tender kiss to your lips, this one softer, less urgent but no less meaningful. “I’m not complaining,” he murmured, his voice warm with affection.

“Have a good day,” you replied, your voice steady.

Logan nodded, his hand coming up to gently cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “I will thanks to you.” 

Logan glanced at the lumberyard behind him, a reminder of the day ahead. “I do have to go,” he said, regret lacing his words.

You nodded, stepping back to give him space. “I know. I’ll see you later.”

He hesitated for a second, then gave you a final, lingering look before turning and walking away, his strides confident but with an underlying reluctance, as if leaving you was the last thing he wanted to do.

As you climbed back into the truck, the taste of his lips still lingering on yours, a smile tugged at your lips. You turned your attention to the glovebox, opening it to find a small stack of bills. He didn’t have to leave you money, but it was a thoughtful gesture—one that showed just how much he cared.

Starting the truck, you pulled out of the parking lot, feeling a sense of peace as the early morning light cast a warm glow over the landscape. There wasn’t much to do in town, but the idea of having a little time to yourself—and the freedom of Logan’s truck at your disposal—felt like a small adventure in itself.

As you drove, your thoughts drifted to how much had changed in such a short time. Logan had become an integral part of your life, his presence comforting and constant. The days of feeling isolated and alone were fading into the background, replaced by the warmth of connection and the promise of something more.

By the time you reached the small town center, you had a few ideas on how to spend your morning. You parked the truck and stepped out, breathing in the crisp air as you glanced around. The shops were just beginning to open, and you decided to take a stroll down the main street.

You wandered past the general store, the hardware shop, and the small café that was starting to fill with its usual morning crowd. Something was charming about the simplicity of it all, something that put you at ease.

The day passed quickly, the hours slipping by as you wandered through the town, enjoying the simple pleasure of a day to yourself. As the afternoon sun began to dip lower in the sky, you found yourself thinking about Logan and the quiet, comforting moments you’d shared that morning. A thought crossed your mind, and a small smile spread across your face.

With the money Logan had left in the glovebox, you decided to treat him to something special—a nice dinner for the two of you. It wasn’t much, but it was a way to show your appreciation for everything he’d done, for the way he’d been there for you, even in such a short time.

─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────

After getting back home, you started on dinner while Logan went to take a shower. You thought you had more time, but soon enough, Logan stepped into the kitchen, looking pleasantly surprised to find you bustling around. “What’s all this?” he asked, his voice filled with curiosity and warmth.

You turned to face him, noticing his hair still slightly damp. “I decided to use the money you left me to treat us to a nice dinner. I hope you’re hungry.”

A grin spread across Logan’s face as he walked over to you, his eyes filled with appreciation. “This smells amazing,” he said, leaning in to give you a quick kiss on the cheek. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

“I wanted to,” you replied, feeling a warmth spread through you at his touch. “It’s my way of saying thank you—for everything.”

Logan’s gaze softened, and he reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m the one who should be thanking you,” he said quietly. “But let’s call it even.”

You laughed softly, the sound mingling with the clinking of dishes as you finished setting the table. “Deal. Now, sit down.” You teased, gesturing toward the chair. 

As the two of you sat down to dinner, the evening unfolded in a series of easy, comfortable moments—laughter, conversation, and the simple pleasure of sharing a meal with someone you cared about. The connection between you felt even stronger, the bond deepening with each shared word, and each exchanged a glance.

By the time the meal was finished, the night felt like a warm, enveloping blanket, wrapping the two of you in its embrace. Logan reached across the table, taking your hand in his, and you could feel the strength and tenderness in his grip.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice soft but filled with meaning. “For this. For everything.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection as you pressed your lips gently to his hand. “I want you to stay tonight,” you whispered, the words carrying both vulnerability and hope.

Logan’s eyes softened as he gazed at you, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just looked at you as if trying to memorize every detail of your face. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and steady, full of quiet sincerity.

“I want that too,” he admitted, his words heavy with the weight of the decision. “More than you know.”

Relief washed over you, mingling with the warmth that had been building between you all evening. The simple act of asking him to stay had felt monumental, and now, with his answer, it felt like something had clicked into place—something that had been hovering just out of reach, now within your grasp.

Logan stood up slowly, his hand still holding yours as he walked around the table to stand beside you. He helped you to your feet, and for a moment, you just stood there, facing each other in the soft glow of the kitchen lights. The world outside felt distant, and irrelevant, as if the only thing that mattered was the two of you, here and now.

Without another word, Logan pulled you into his arms, holding you close. You could feel the steady beat of his heart against your chest and could sense the calm that had settled over him. You knew this was a big step for both of you, but it felt right—like it was the natural progression of everything that had been building between you.

His hand moved to cup your face, tilting it up so he could look into your eyes. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper as if giving you one last chance to change your mind.

You nodded, your lips curving into a small, reassuring smile. “I’m sure, Logan. I want this.”

His eyes darkened slightly, with something deeper, more intense. Then, without another word, he leaned in and kissed you—softly at first, then with more urgency as the reality of the moment sank in. The kiss was full of unspoken promises, trust and desire, and everything that had been simmering between you.

When you finally broke apart, breathless, you didn’t need to say anything. The decision had already been made.

“I’ll clean this up later,” Logan said softly, his voice low and filled with warmth. “But right now, I just need you, sweetheart.”

He took your hand, leading you out of the kitchen and down the hallway to your bedroom. The night outside was dark, the world quiet, as the two of you stepped into the room, closing the door softly behind you.

The space felt different now—more intimate, more charged with the energy of what was about to happen. You stood together in the dim light, your hands still intertwined, and for a moment, you just looked at each other, letting the anticipation build.

Then Logan moved closer, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you against him. His touch was gentle, but there was an undercurrent of desire that made your pulse quicken. Slowly, he began to lift your shirt over your head, his movements careful and deliberate, as if savoring every moment.

“I’ll go slow unless you tell me otherwise,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin.

You smiled against his lips as your fingers worked to remove his shirt. He slipped it over his head, then cupped your face with both hands, his touch tender yet filled with intent.

“Just touch me, Logan,” you whispered, your voice carrying a mixture of need and trust. You had wanted this moment for a while, imagining how Logan’s hands would feel on you, how he would make you feel. After that kiss earlier, you knew there was no reason to hold back. Why take things slow when everything about this felt so right?

Logan’s gaze darkened with desire at your words, and he let out a quiet breath as if releasing the last of his restraint. “You’re so beautiful,” he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. His hands moved over your skin with a mix of reverence and urgency, as if savoring each touch but also needing more, needing all of you.

His touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine as he explored your body, his fingers tracing the contours of your skin as though committing them to memory.

Logan’s lips found yours again, the kiss deep and unrestrained, reflecting the intensity of everything that had been building between you. His hands roamed over you with more confidence now, as if your words had unlocked something inside him, permitting him to show you just how much he wanted you.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart?” Logan murmured, his voice thick with desire as his lips trailed hot kisses down your neck, each one igniting a deeper longing within you.

In response, you pushed him back toward the bed, a determined glint in your eyes. Logan allowed himself to be guided, his breath hitching as you climbed on top of him, your hands pressing against his chest to steady yourself.

“I want you,” you whispered, your voice steady and filled with intent. “I want all of you.”

Logan’s eyes darkened with a mix of surprise and pleasure, his hands instinctively gripping your hips, pulling you closer as he settled beneath you. The roles had shifted, and you reveled in the feeling of taking control, of showing him just how much you wanted this—wanted him.

“Then take it,” Logan rasped, his voice rough with desire as he met your gaze. “I’m yours.”

His breath came in ragged gasps as your hands traveled down his chest, stopping at the waistband of his sweats. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the hardness beneath you driving your own need to a fever pitch. The anticipation sent a shiver down your spine, and you clenched around nothing, the ache for him growing more intense with every passing second.

Logan’s hands tightened on your hips, his eyes darkening as he watched you, his control slipping as your fingers toyed with the edge of his sweatpants.

“Don’t stop,” Logan whispered, his voice hoarse, filled with both a plea and a command. His vulnerability in that moment, paired with the raw power he exuded, only made you want him more.

With a steadying breath, you slipped your fingers beneath the waistband, slowly easing his sweats down, revealing the full extent of his arousal. Logan groaned, his head tipping back against the pillow, the sound sending a rush of heat through you.

Your hands shook slightly, not from fear, but from the sheer intensity of what was happening. You’d both been building to this moment for so long and now that it was here, it felt almost surreal, too powerful.

You gently wrapped your hand around his cock, stroking it slowly, deliberately, just enough to tease him. The feeling of him in your hand, hard and heavy, sent a jolt of desire straight through you, making your breath hitch.

Logan’s reaction was immediate. His hands slid up your thighs, his touch firm but reverent until they gripped your hips with a need that matched your own. His fingers dug into your skin, holding you in place as his hips bucked slightly into your hand, a low growl escaping his lips.

“Fuck,” Logan breathed out, his voice thick with pleasure and restraint. His eyes, half-lidded with desire, locked onto yours, a silent plea and command mixed. “Don’t tease me.”

But the teasing was half the fun, the control you had over him intoxicating. You leaned in, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “I want to make you feel good.”

His grip on your hips tightened, and you could feel the tension in his body, coiled and ready to spring. But for now, you relished the control you had over him, the way you could make him unravel with just a touch.

But the need building within you was undeniable, and as much as you enjoyed teasing him, you wanted more. You wanted to feel him, to have him inside you, to bridge the gap that had been between you for far too long.

“Logan…” you murmured, your voice a mix of desire and pleading. “I need you.”

His response was immediate and primal, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he shifted beneath you, flipping you onto your back with a swiftness that took your breath away. He settled between your legs, his hands framing your face, his eyes burning with intent before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. 

“Then take me,” he whispered, his lips brushing against yours as he positioned himself at your entrance. “All of me.”

His hands then worked to pull down your panties revealing your needy cunt and with one fluid motion, he pushed into you, filling you completely, the connection between you snapping into place as if it had been meant to be all along. The sensation was overwhelming, every nerve in your body alive with the intensity of it.

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer as you both moved together, the rhythm natural and instinctive. Each thrust brought you closer to the edge, the pressure building inside you with a fierce intensity, mirrored in the way Logan’s grip tightened on your hips.

“Logan,” you gasped, your nails digging into his back as waves of pleasure surged through you. “Don’t stop,” you cried, your body trembling as you clenched around him, desperate for more.

Logan’s breath hitched, and you could feel him shudder above you, every muscle in his body tense as he fought to hold back. His voice was a low growl, rough with desire and restraint. “Don’t cum for me yet, sweetheart,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “I want to taste you.”

The promise in his words sent a jolt of anticipation through you, and your breath caught in your throat as you nodded, trusting him completely. Logan’s pace slowed, his movements deliberate as he pulled out of you, leaving you aching and yearning for his touch.

He kissed his way down your body, his lips trailing over your skin, each touch igniting a new wave of heat inside you. By the time he reached the apex of your thighs, you were trembling with need, your body taut with anticipation.

Logan glanced up at you, his eyes dark and hungry, as if savoring the sight of you laid out before him. He pressed a lingering kiss to your inner thigh, his hands gripping your hips to hold you steady. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe and desire.

And then he was there, his mouth on you, his tongue tracing slow, tantalizing circles that made your whole body arch off the bed. The sensation was overwhelming, the pleasure so intense that you could barely think, could barely breathe. You clutched at the sheets, your moans filling the room as Logan devoured you, his touch both gentle and insistent, driving you closer to the edge with every flick of his tongue.

He was relentless, his mouth working you with a skill that left you shaking, your entire being focused on the pleasure he was giving you. The tension inside you coiled tighter and tighter until it was almost unbearable.

“Logan,” you gasped, your voice trembling. “I—I can’t…” Your thighs pressed against the sides of his head. He moaned into you as if he wanted to be suffocated by you. 

Logan didn’t stop. Instead, he redoubled his efforts, his tongue moving faster, his hands tightening on your hips as he held you in place. “Let go for me,” he murmured against you, his voice sending vibrations through your core. “I want to taste you.”

His words were your undoing. With a cry, you came undone, your release crashing over you in a wave that left you breathless, your body shaking uncontrollably as you found your peak. Logan didn’t let up, drawing out your orgasm until you were left gasping, your entire body trembling in the aftermath.

Only then did he pull back, kissing his way up your body until he was hovering over you again, his lips capturing yours in a deep, passionate kiss that tasted of you. “You’re incredible,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve thought about this for so long.”

You smiled against his lips, your fingers threading through his hair as you pulled him closer. “Me too,” you murmured, still breathless, your heart full of everything you felt for him.

Logan kissed you again, his hands roaming over your body with a renewed sense of urgency. He shifted, lifting your legs higher and positioning himself between your thighs, his cock teasing your entrance.

“Logan…” you whispered, your voice a mix of longing and need, your hips instinctively arching toward him.

His eyes met yours, dark and intense, as he paused, savoring the moment. “I need to feel you cum with me inside you,” he murmured, his voice husky with desire. 

Slowly, he began to press into you, the sensation making you gasp as he stretched you. Logan’s gaze never left yours as he pushed deeper, his movements slow and deliberate, ensuring you felt every moment of it.

Your breath hitched, a soft moan escaping your lips as he bottomed out inside you, the sensation overwhelming in the best possible way. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he was holding himself back, giving you a moment to adjust, to fully take him in.

“God, you’re perfect,” Logan groaned, his hands gripping your hips as he began to move, setting a rhythm that was both slow and powerful, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. The feeling of him moving within you was intoxicating, every nerve in your body lighting up with pleasure. “Your little cunt just begging for more.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer, urging him on as the need inside you built to an unbearable level. Each stroke pushed you higher, the pleasure coiling tighter within you, ready to snap.

“Faster,” you whispered, your voice breathless, your nails digging into his shoulders as you clung to him. “Please, Logan…”

Logan’s restraint shattered at your plea, his pace quickening as he drove into you with a newfound urgency, his grip on your hips tightening. The sound of skin against skin filled the room, mingling with your gasps and his low, rough moans, creating a symphony of pure, unbridled passion.

The pleasure was overwhelming, each thrust sending you spiraling closer to your release. You could feel Logan’s control slipping, the tension in his body mirroring your own as he neared his climax.

“Come with me,” he rasped, his voice thick with need. “I want to feel you cum around me.”

His words sent you over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you with a force that left you trembling beneath him. You cried out his name, your body tightening around him as the waves of pleasure pulsed through you.

Logan followed you into oblivion, his release tearing through him as he buried himself deep inside you, his body shuddering as he let go. He groaned your name, his voice filled with raw emotion as he spilled into you, the intensity of it leaving him breathless.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, both of you lost in the aftershocks of what you’d just shared. Your hearts pounded in sync, your breaths mingling as you held each other close, the connection between you stronger than ever.

Finally, Logan lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours with a softness that took your breath away. He brushed his thumb across your cheek, his touch gentle and reverent.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe and affection.

You smiled, your heart swelling with love for the man above you. “I love you too,” you replied, your voice soft but heavy with the weight of everything you felt for him.

Logan’s eyes shone with emotion as he leaned down, capturing your lips in a slow, tender kiss. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close, his warmth enveloping you as he held you. The rhythm of his heartbeat under your ear, steady and strong, lulled you into a sense of peace you hadn’t felt in a long time.

As you drifted off to sleep in his embrace, you knew that this was where you were meant to be—with him, surrounded by a love that felt real.

─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────

“Logan?” you mumbled, turning over. Your hands fumbled around the bed, searching for Logan, but all you found was the lingering warmth he had left behind.

You sat up, sleepiness still clouding your eyes as you looked around the room, the eerie silence ringing in your ears. Slowly, you got out of bed and walked out of the bedroom, the soft glow of moonlight guiding you through the darkened hallway.

You knew Logan’s nightmares were bad. In the first few nights, he stayed over, he tried to hide them, keeping quiet and distant. Eventually, the truth became impossible to ignore. He would thrash under the covers, his body tense and restless, causing you to wake up and find him drenched in a cold sweat, haunted by whatever horrors his mind had conjured.

He was stubborn, refusing your help, convinced that he deserved the painful nightmares as a way to remind himself of who he was. No matter how many times you tried to reassure him, to tell him that he didn’t have to bear the weight of his past alone, Logan was resolute. He believed the nightmares were a punishment, a way to keep himself anchored to the man he once was, no matter how much pain they caused him. He would insist that they were his burden to bear, and he wouldn’t let you share in it, no matter how much you wanted to help.

It was frustrating, seeing him like this—tortured, stubborn, and determined to carry the weight of his guilt alone. Every night, you’d lie awake, listening to his breathing grow heavier, waiting for the moment when his dreams would turn into something darker, something that would tear him from sleep and leave him gasping for air.

He tried to put on a brave face during the day, but you could see the exhaustion etched into his features, the haunted look in his eyes that never fully went away. And yet, he wouldn’t let you in. He wouldn’t let you take any of the burden from his shoulders, even though it was clear that it was tearing him apart.

It never got easier to watch, especially now as you fumbled your way through the dark, desperate to find him. Your heart pounded in your chest, thoughts swirling as you entered the living room, hoping against hope that he’d be there.

It was empty.

“Logan?” you whispered, your voice trembling in the stillness, even though you knew deep down he wasn’t there.

Slowly, your feet padded against the wood floor toward the front door, which was slightly ajar. Your heart raced as it creaked open, the moonlight peeking through and casting eerie shadows on your face. For a split second, your heart stopped as you saw a figure standing outside, silhouetted against the night, gazing up at the sky.

However, you quickly realized it was Logan. His eyes were closed, his face peaceful as the cool breeze swirled around him. He was barefoot, wearing only sweats, as the moonlight bathed him in a soft, ethereal glow.

He turned toward you, a slight smile playing on his lips. “Come here,” he said, his voice gentle, inviting.

You stepped outside, the cool night air brushing against your skin as you walked toward Logan. He opened his eyes, his smile fading slightly as you approached.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you asked softly, searching his face for any sign of what might be troubling him. “Was it the nightmares again?”

Logan nodded, his expression shifting from peaceful to guarded, the familiar shadows returning to his eyes. “Yeah,” he murmured, almost as if admitting it aloud made it worse. “They’re always there, waiting…”

You reached out, gently taking his hand in yours, offering him the comfort of your touch. “I can help you with them,” you whispered, your voice steady but tender. “You don’t have to go through it alone.”

Logan hesitated, his gaze dropping to the ground as he weighed your words. “I don’t know…” he began, his voice trailing off. “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea. I don’t want you to see—”

You squeezed his hand, cutting him off gently. “Logan, you don’t have to protect me from this.  I’m not afraid of what you’ve been through. I just want to be there for you.” 

He looked up at you then, his eyes searching yours, filled with a mixture of vulnerability and something close to fear. “What if it’s too much?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “What if… what if it changes the way you see me?”

You stepped closer, bringing his hand up to your chest, letting him feel the steady rhythm of your heartbeat. “Nothing will change the way I see you,” you said, your voice firm. “I love every part of you, Logan. Even the parts you think are too dark, too broken. Let me in. Let me help.”

“I’m not who you think I am,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. “The things I’ve done… I don’t deserve your love.”

You reached out, placing a hand on his arm, feeling the tension in his muscles. “You deserve love, Logan. You deserve peace. I’m not going anywhere, no matter what you think you deserve.”

Logan stared at you for a long moment, the internal battle clear in his eyes. Finally, he gave a slow, reluctant nod, though the tension in his body didn’t entirely ease. “Alright,” he whispered, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

You smiled softly, lifting your hand to cup his cheek. “I love you,” you promised, your thumb brushing gently across his skin, a tender reminder of your unwavering support.

You held Logan’s gaze for a moment longer, letting the warmth of your touch seep into his skin, grounding him. Then, with a soft smile, you gently guided him back inside the house, the night air giving way to the comforting stillness of your home.

Once in the bedroom, you pulled back the covers and motioned for Logan to lie down beside you. He hesitated for a brief second, the tension still lingering in his shoulders, but then he did as you asked, trusting you with the parts of him that were still so fragile.

You lay down next to him, pressing your body close to his, reassuring him of your presence. His breathing was still uneven, the remnants of his turmoil evident in the tightness of his muscles.

Slowly, you reached out and placed your hand on his chest, over his heart, feeling the steady thrum beneath your palm. Closing your eyes, you let your power flow through you, focusing on the connection between you and Logan. It was an ability you had refined over the years, learning to use it not just to bring back memories, but to soothe and calm the storm inside people.

A soft, warm energy radiated from your hand, spreading through Logan’s body like a gentle wave. You could feel the tension beginning to ebb away, his breathing becoming more rhythmic, more at ease. As the calming energy enveloped him, you whispered reassuring words, barely audible, guiding him into a state of peace.

“Just relax. You’re safe. Just let go… I’ve got you.”

Logan’s body began to relax under your touch, the knots in his muscles slowly unraveling. His eyes fluttered closed, and you continued to channel the soothing energy, lulling him closer to sleep.

Before long, his breathing deepened, and his hand instinctively found yours, holding onto it as if it were his lifeline. He drifted off, the tension that had gripped him earlier now a distant memory. You stayed close, your power still working to shield him from the nightmares that had plagued him for so long.

But then, even in sleep, the shadows tried to creep in. Logan began to mumble, his brow furrowing as he tossed slightly, remnants of old fears threatening to pull him under. You tightened your grip on his hand and let your power surge a bit stronger, a soft, soothing balm that eased the distress in his mind.

The effect was immediate. Logan’s mumbling quieted, the lines on his forehead smoothing out as the calmness you projected enveloped him completely. For the first time in years, Logan found peace in sleep, undisturbed by the horrors of his past.

You watched him, your heart swelling with love as you stroked his hair gently, ensuring that the serenity remained. His grip on your hand relaxed, and a soft sigh escaped his lips as he settled deeper into the comfort of your presence.

As the moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room, you allowed yourself to relax as well. You could feel the steady rise and fall of Logan’s chest, the peaceful rhythm of his breath, and knew that, for now, he was safe. The man who had once been tormented by nightmares was finally resting, his mind at ease, protected by the love and power you shared.

As you lay there beside him, your hand still resting over his heart, you felt a deep sense of fulfillment. This was your place—right here, beside him, offering him the solace he had so often been denied. While it had only been a few months since your lives became intertwined, Logan meant so much more to you than he could realize.

His presence in your life had become a constant, a source of strength and comfort that you had never known before. The depth of your feelings for him had grown rapidly, surprising you with their intensity. There was something about Logan—his strength, his vulnerability, the way he fought against the darkness within him—that drew you to him like nothing else ever had.

Sometimes, in quiet moments like this, you wondered what the future held. Would you continue to help him heal, to be the anchor he needed? Would the two of you find peace together, or would the shadows of his past continue to haunt him? There were so many unknowns, so many questions that lingered in the back of your mind.

But as you listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your hand, you knew one thing for certain: you weren’t going anywhere. Whatever the future held, you were committed to facing it with him. You had found something rare and precious in Logan, and you weren’t willing to let it slip away.

“I’ll always protect you, Logan. No matter what,” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his chest. 

He didn’t stir, but you knew, deep down, that he heard you.

For now, though, this was enough. This moment, with Logan safe and at peace beside you, was more than you could have ever hoped for and as sleep finally began to claim you, you knew that whatever the future held, you would face it together.

With that comforting thought, you allowed yourself to drift off, your hand still resting protectively over Logan’s heart, ready to shield him from the darkness, ready to walk beside him into whatever tomorrow might bring.

─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────

Two years had passed since that night when Logan first told you he loved you. In that time, your lives had settled into a comfortable rhythm, one that felt as natural as breathing. Logan had moved in not long after, and together, you had built a life that was simple but filled with love and contentment.

The house had become a true home, with little touches that reflected the two of you—photos from your adventures together, Logan’s tools neatly organized in the garage, and your shared collection of books lining the shelves. The days were spent in quiet harmony, whether working side by side in the garden, cooking meals together, or simply enjoying each other’s company on lazy Sunday afternoons.

One evening, as you sat on the porch watching the sun dip below the horizon, Logan reached over and took your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. The air was warm, the crickets beginning their evening chorus, and the world felt perfectly still.

“You ever think about the future?” he asked, his voice quiet but laced with curiosity.

You turned to look at him, a soft smile playing on your lips. “All the time,” you admitted. “What about you?”

Logan nodded, his gaze thoughtful as he stared out at the fading light. “Yeah, I do,” he said. “I never used to… not before you. But now… I think about it a lot.”

“What do you see when you think about it?” you asked, your heart swelling at the thought of a shared future with him.

He was silent for a moment as if carefully considering his words. “I think about us,” he began, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand. “Maybe getting married, starting a family. A life where we can just be… happy.”

His words sent a thrill through you, a mixture of excitement and contentment. “You’d want that?” you asked, your voice soft, almost disbelieving.

Logan turned to you then, his eyes filled with a sincerity that took your breath away. “More than anything,” he said.

Your heart felt like it could burst from the love you felt for him. “I want that too,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss him softly. After a moment, you pulled back, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Though I was kind of hoping you’d ask me to marry you more romantically.”

Logan’s hand moved to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. “I’m not a romantic guy,” he said but his voice held a laughter to it.

“Liar,” you replied, your fingers gently moving through his hair. 

Logan’s smile widened, his eyes softening as he leaned in to kiss you again, this time with a mix of relief and joy. The simple exchange solidified the bond between you, a promise of a future built on love, trust, and the deep connection you shared.

The idea of marrying Logan, of starting a family together, filled you with a warmth that radiated through your entire being. It was a future you could see so clearly—a future that felt right, that felt like the culmination of everything you had both been through to get to this point.

Over the next few weeks, the two of you talked about your future often, making plans, and dreaming about the life you would build together. The prospect of marriage and starting a family became a beacon of hope and joy, something to look forward to, something that made each day even brighter.

But then, everything changed. You always knew the past would eventually catch up with you, but little did you know that Logan’s had never truly gone away.

Logan was at work at the lumberyard, and you were home, going about your usual routine. The sun was high in the sky, and the air filled with the scent of freshly cut wood, as Logan went about his tasks. It was a day like any other—until he saw him.

William Stryker.

Logan’s blood ran cold the moment he recognized the man standing at the edge of the yard, watching him with that familiar, calculating gaze. Stryker hadn’t changed much in the years since Logan had last seen him—still exuding that air of authority, still holding that unsettling glint in his eyes.

Logan stopped what he was doing, his entire body tensing as Stryker approached, his stride confident and purposeful. “Logan,” Stryker greeted him, his tone deceptively casual. “Been a long time.”

Logan clenched his jaw, his fists curling at his sides. “What do you want, Stryker?” he asked, his voice low and edged with anger.

Stryker smiled a cold, calculated smile that told Logan everything he needed to know. “I’m not here to cause trouble,” he said, holding up his hands as if in surrender. “Just want to have a little chat. Thought you might be interested in rejoining Team X.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed, his entire being rejecting the idea before Stryker had even finished speaking. “Not a chance,” he growled. “I’m done with that life.”

Stryker tilted his head as if considering Logan’s words. “You say that now,” he said slowly, “but things change, Logan. People change. I know you’ve built a life for yourself here, but how long do you think that will last? How long before you get bored… before you start craving the action again?”

Logan’s mind flashed to you—your smile, your laugh, the way you felt in his arms. The life you were building together, the plans you’d made for the future. That was what mattered to him now. Not the past, not the violence and chaos of Team X.

“Not interested,” Logan said firmly, turning his back on Stryker and walking away.

But Stryker wasn’t done. “You think this little dream of yours is going to last?” he called after Logan, his voice cutting through the noise of the yard. “You think you can escape what you are? Who you are?”

Logan stopped in his tracks, his muscles tensing with barely restrained fury. Yet, he didn’t turn around. He wouldn’t give Stryker the satisfaction.

“I’ll be around if you change your mind,” Stryker continued, his voice now calm and almost friendly. “You know where to find me.”

Logan forced himself to keep walking, his mind reeling from the encounter. He couldn’t let Stryker get to him. He couldn’t let him ruin what he had with you.

But even as he tried to push Stryker’s words from his mind, a sliver of doubt began to creep in. Could he escape his past? Could he keep that part of himself buried, hidden away, and focus on the future he wanted with you?

He didn’t know the answer, but as he made his way back home, one thing was certain: he wasn’t going to let Stryker destroy the life he had built. He wouldn’t let him take away the happiness he had found with you.

When he walked through the door that evening, you were there waiting for him, your smile bright and welcoming but as you looked into his eyes, you could see something was wrong.

“Logan?” you asked, concern lacing your voice as you reached out to touch his arm. “What happened?” 

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he walked over to you, pulling you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you as if he were trying to shield you from something. His heart pounded against your chest, a frantic rhythm that matched your own.

You pulled back slightly, searching his face for answers. “What is it?”

Logan sighed, his expression pained. “Stryker found me.”

The name sent a chill down your spine. You had heard of William Stryker—Logan had told you enough about him for you to know that he was a man to be feared. A man who had once held power over Logan’s life in ways you could barely comprehend.

“What does he want?” you asked, your voice barely holding steady.

“He wants me to rejoin Team X,” Logan said, the words heavy with regret and anger. “He thinks I’ll go back to that life, but I told him no but he doesn’t take no for an answer.”

A wave of fear crashed over you, chilling you to the bone. You had known that Logan’s past was dark, but the reality of it coming back, threatening the life you’d built together, was more than you could bear.

“What are we going to do?” you asked, your voice small and trembling.

Logan took a deep breath, his grip tightening around you as if he could somehow protect you from the storm that was brewing. “We’re going to keep living our lives,” he said, his voice firm despite the turmoil you could see swirling in his eyes. “I’m not letting him take this away from us. I’m not going back to that life.”

“He's not going to stop, you just said so.” you pressed, fear and uncertainty creeping into your words. “He’ll keep coming after you.” 

Logan’s eyes softened slightly as he looked at you, the tension in his expression giving way to something more tender. “I’ll handle it,” he promised. “I’ve fought worse battles, and I’ve come out the other side. I’m not going to let Stryker or anyone else take away what we have.”

His words were meant to reassure you, but the dread in your heart wouldn’t completely fade. You knew Logan was strong, but Stryker was a force that wouldn’t be easily deterred. Still, you nodded, wanting to believe that Logan could protect you, that he could protect the future you had planned together.

“Logan,” you whispered, your voice steadying as you looked into his eyes. You wanted to say a million things, but at that moment, nothing else mattered.

Logan shook his head slightly, as if to quiet your worries, before leaning down to press a tender kiss to your forehead. His lips lingered there, warm and reassuring, as if he could somehow transfer some of his strength to you. “I know,” he murmured, sensing the uneasiness that you couldn’t quite hide. “But I need you to promise me something.”

You looked up at him, your heart pounding as you waited for his words.

“If things get dangerous, if Stryker makes a move—promise me you’ll get out of here. Go somewhere safe.”

The thought of leaving him, of running away while he faced whatever Stryker had planned, made your stomach turn. “Logan, I can’t just leave you—”

“Promise me,” he interrupted his voice firm but laced with desperation. “I need to know you’ll be safe. That’s the only way I can fight this without losing my mind.”

You swallowed hard, the reality of the situation sinking in. Logan was willing to do whatever it took to protect you, even if it meant facing his past head-on and as much as it pained you. You knew you had to respect his wishes.

“I promise,” you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes. “But only if you promise to come back to me.”

Logan’s expression softened, and he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had begun to fall. “I promise,” he said, his voice full of conviction. “I’ll come back to you. Always.”

Deep down, a part of you couldn’t shake the fear that the life you had built was about to be torn apart.

The days that followed were tense, filled with an undercurrent of dread that neither of you could ignore. Logan continued to go to work, determined to maintain some sense of normalcy, but you could see the strain in his eyes every time he left the house.

You tried to keep busy, distracting yourself with everyday tasks, but the shadow of Stryker’s threat loomed over everything. You found yourself constantly looking over your shoulder, jumping at every unexpected noise, your heart pounding with the fear that Stryker could appear at any moment.

And then, one day, he did.

You were at home, going through the motions of your daily routine, when a knock at the door sent a chill down your spine. You froze, your heart racing as you stared at the door, knowing in your gut that this wasn’t a friendly visit.

Slowly, you approached the door, your hand trembling as you reached for the knob. You hesitated, your mind racing with thoughts of what could be waiting on the other side.

Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself and opened the door.

There he stood—William Stryker, his cold eyes studying you with a calculated intensity that made your blood run cold. He was dressed impeccably, his posture calm and composed, but there was an underlying menace in his presence that sent every alarm in your body screaming.

“Hello,” he said, his voice smooth and unnervingly polite. “You must be Logan’s little lady.”

Your throat tightened, and you gripped the edge of the door, resisting the urge to slam it shut in his face. “What do you want?” you managed to ask, your voice steady despite the fear coursing through you.

Stryker’s smile was thin, more of a predator’s smirk than a sign of friendliness. “I’m here to talk to Logan. I believe he’s been avoiding me.”

“He’s not here,” you replied quickly, praying that Logan would stay away until Stryker was gone.

Stryker nodded as if he expected that answer. “I figured as much. He can’t avoid me forever. Sooner or later, he’ll have to face the truth.” 

“What truth?” you asked, dread settling like a heavy stone in your stomach.

“The truth that no matter how far he runs, he’ll never escape who he really is,” Stryker said, his voice dropping to a low, ominous tone. “He’s a soldier, a weapon, an animal. Deep down, he knows it.” 

You shook your head, refusing to let Stryker’s words get to you. “Logan is more than that. He’s not the person you’re trying to make him be.”

Stryker’s eyes narrowed, and momentarily, the facade of politeness slipped, revealing the cold, calculating man underneath. “We’ll see about that,” he said, his voice hard.

He turned to leave, but then hesitated, sighing as he turned back toward you. There was a faint, unsettling look in his eye, something almost resembling concern, but you knew better.

“Oh, I almost forgot to mention,” Stryker paused, his tone deceptively casual. “Some of the guys on the team have… gone missing. I assume they’re dead—because of Victor. He’s big on revenge, I suppose. Anyway, do let Logan know. Victor will probably be here sooner rather than later.” 

Stryker’s words hung in the air like a dark cloud, their weight pressing down on you. You stood there, frozen, as the full meaning of his warning settled in. The mere mention of Victor’s name had always carried an edge, a hint of danger that now felt all too real.

Before you could find your voice, Stryker gave you a cold, almost dismissive nod and turned on his heel, walking away with the same calculated confidence he had arrived with. The sound of his footsteps echoed faintly in the distance, but the chill he brought into your home lingered long after he was gone.

You closed the door slowly, your hands trembling as you locked it as if that simple action could keep the world outside from crashing in. But you knew better. Stryker’s words, his warning about Victor, had already set things in motion—things that couldn’t be undone by a locked door.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the dread coiled in your stomach like a snake ready to strike. Victor was coming and if what Stryker said was true, he was out for blood.

Logan. You had to warn Logan.

─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────

You threw the truck into the park, barely taking the time to turn off the engine before jumping out and running across the lumber yard. Panic fueled your steps as you searched desperately for Logan. He sensed you before he saw you, your scent unmistakable to him. He turned just in time to see you rushing toward him, a terrified look on your face.

“Logan,” you called, your voice trembling, barely above a whisper. “Stryker came to the house.”

Logan’s entire body went still, his breath catching in his throat. “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, his tone hard as all traces of calmness vanished.

“He—” you hesitated, the weight of Stryker’s words still sinking in. “He warned me about Victor. He said some of the team members have gone missing, and he thinks Victor’s behind it. Logan, he said Victor might come here… soon.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening with a mix of anger and fear. “Damn it,” he muttered, his mind racing as he processed the information. He turned to you, his expression grim, the weight of his decision clear in his eyes. “You need to leave. Now.”

Your heart dropped at Logan’s words. The thought of leaving him now, in the face of such danger, was unbearable. But the look in his eyes—so fierce and determined—told you that he wasn’t giving you a choice.

“Logan, I can’t just leave you,” you protested, your voice shaking with emotion. “Not now, not when—”

“You have to,” he cut you off, his voice firm but laced with desperation. “If Victor is coming, I can’t let you be here when he arrives. I need to know you’re safe.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as the reality of the situation sank in. “Where will I go?”

Logan’s gaze softened slightly, but the urgency remained. “There’s a motel on the edge of town, near the highway. Go there, stay out of sight. I’ll come for you when it’s safe.”

You shook your head, feeling a mix of fear and helplessness. “What about you?”

Logan stepped closer, placing his hands on your shoulders, his grip firm but gentle. “I’ll handle Victor. I’ve dealt with him before. But I can’t focus on that if I’m worrying about you. Please, just go.”

You could see the fear in his eyes, the fear of losing you. It mirrored your own. But you also saw the resolve, the determination that had always been a part of him. He wasn’t just asking you to leave—he was begging you to trust him.

You swallowed hard, nodding even though every part of you wanted to stay by his side. “Okay,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “But promise me you’ll come back to me, Logan.”

Logan’s expression softened further, and he pulled you into a tight embrace, holding you as if he never wanted to let go. “I promise,” he murmured into your hair, his voice filled with emotion. “I’ll come back to you. I swear it.”

For a moment, you held onto him, memorizing the feel of his arms around you, the warmth of his body. But the clock was ticking, and you both knew it. Reluctantly, you pulled back, looking up at him one last time.

“I love you,” you said, your voice trembling but resolute.

Logan cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had begun to fall. “I love you too,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Now go. Don’t look back.”

You nodded, biting your lip to keep from breaking down completely. With one last lingering look, you turned and ran back to the truck, your heart heavy with fear and uncertainty.

As you drove away, the lumberyard fading in the rearview mirror, your mind raced with thoughts of Logan, of Victor, of what might happen next. The fear gnawed at you, but you forced yourself to focus on getting to safety, on doing what Logan needed you to do.

The road ahead was dark, the highway stretching out before you like a path to the unknown. Every mile felt like a thousand, every minute an eternity. But you kept going, knowing that this was what Logan wanted—what he needed.

You reached the motel just as the first signs of dawn began to streak the sky. Exhausted and emotionally drained, you checked in, barely registering the details as the clerk handed you the key. The room was small and plain, but it felt like a sanctuary amid chaos.

Once inside, you locked the door, double-checking it as if that would somehow keep the world at bay. Then you collapsed onto the bed, your mind and body finally giving in to the weight of everything that had happened.

You wanted to sleep, to escape the fear that clung to you like a second skin, but your thoughts kept drifting back to Logan—wondering if he was safe, if he was already facing the man who had haunted his past and now threatened your future.

You curled up on the bed, wrapping your arms around yourself as if that could somehow replace the comfort of Logan’s embrace. The room was silent, but your mind was anything but. The uncertainty of what would come next loomed large, the fear of losing Logan gnawing at your heart.

And as the hours stretched on, you could only hope that Logan would keep his promise—that he would come back to you, safe and whole, so you could face whatever was ahead together.

─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────

Hours had passed, each one stretching out longer than the last. You stayed at the motel, anxiously waiting for Logan to return, clinging to the promise he had made. But as the hours turned into days, the silence became unbearable. The weight of not knowing gnawed at you, a constant ache that you couldn’t shake.

Logan hadn’t come back.

You tried to convince yourself that he was okay, that he was just being cautious, making sure everything was safe before coming to get you. But as the days dragged on without a word, your worry grew into something more—a cold, suffocating fear that something had gone wrong.

By the time the third day arrived, you couldn’t take it anymore. You had to know. You had to find him.

With a resolve born from desperation, you packed up your things and checked out of the motel. The drive back into town felt surreal, the familiar road now filled with an ominous tension. The closer you got, the tighter the knot in your stomach grew.

When you finally pulled into town, the sight of the lumber yard where you last saw Logan filled you with both hope and dread. The place was eerily quiet, the usual hum of activity replaced by an unsettling stillness. You parked the truck and stepped out, your heart pounding as you scanned the area for any sign of Logan.

But there was nothing—no sign of him, no indication that he had ever been there.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to focus. If Logan wasn’t here, then you needed to check the house. Maybe he had gone back there, maybe he was waiting for you. The thought gave you a glimmer of hope, just enough to push you forward.

You drove through town, your eyes darting to every corner, every shadow, searching for any hint of him. But the town was quiet, almost unnaturally so, as if it too was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

When you finally reached the house, your heart sank. The front door was slightly ajar, and the wood splintered as if it had been forced open. Panic surged through you as you hurried out of the truck, running to the door.

“Logan?” you called out, your voice trembling with fear.

There was no answer.

You pushed the door open, stepping inside cautiously. The house was dark, the only light coming from the early morning sun filtering through the curtains. Everything was in disarray—the furniture overturned, the walls scuffed as if there had been a struggle.

Your breath hitched as you took it all in, your mind racing with the worst possibilities.

“Logan!” you called again, louder this time, hoping against hope that he was somewhere inside, that he was okay.

But the house was silent.

You moved through the rooms quickly, checking every corner, every shadow, but Logan was nowhere to be found. The fear that had been gnawing at you for days now took root, sinking deep into your bones.

As you made your way to the bedroom, your heart nearly stopped. The bed was untouched, the sheets still neatly made—the way you had left them. But what caught your attention was the blood on the floor, a dark stain that hadn’t been there before. Your knees nearly buckled as you stared at it, the implications crashing down on you like a tidal wave.

You forced yourself to stay calm, to think. The blood could be Logan’s, or it could belong to someone else. But either way, it wasn’t a good sign.

You turned and rushed back through the house, your panic growing with every step. As you reached the front door, you paused, your hand trembling on the doorknob. You didn’t want to believe it, didn’t want to accept that something had happened to Logan—but the evidence was all around you.

You had to find him. You had to know the truth.

Grabbing your keys, you ran back to the truck and sped off, your mind racing with possibilities. You thought about Stryker, about Victor, about the people from Logan’s past who might be responsible for this. You had no clear plan, no idea where to go or who to turn to—but you couldn’t just sit back and do nothing.

You drove to the lumberyard again, hoping someone there might have seen or heard something. The few workers you found there were no help; they hadn’t seen Logan in days. The town felt like it was closing in on you, every shadow hiding a new fear, every corner holding a new dread.

Next, you tried the local bar—one of the few places where Logan had gone to clear his head when things got tough. But the bartender shook his head when you asked if he had seen Logan.

It was as if Logan had vanished into thin air.

What else could you do? You had no idea where Logan had gone, and even if you did find Victor or Stryker, you knew you’d be no match against them. 

You sat in the truck, gripping the steering wheel as the tears began to fall freely, blurring your vision. The weight of everything crashed down on you all at once—the fear, the uncertainty, the overwhelming sense of helplessness. You had done everything you could think of, but it felt like you were hitting one dead end after another.

You closed your eyes, letting the tears stream down your face, your sobs quiet but deep, shaking your entire body. You didn’t know what else to do, or where else to turn. All you could do was sit there, trapped in your fear and despair, hoping that somehow, some way, Logan would come back to you.

─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────

A year had passed since that terrible day. A year of searching, of moving from one town to the next, chasing down rumors and whispers, but finding nothing. Not a trace of Logan, Stryker, or Victor. It was as if they had all vanished into thin air.

You had driven countless miles, crossing from small towns to sprawling cities, hoping to catch even the smallest lead. But every time, the trail went cold. The hope that had once fueled your search had slowly started to fade, replaced by a growing despair.

Logan was gone, and no one knew where.

Some days, you imagined the worst: that Stryker had found a way to kill Logan despite his Regenerative Healing Factor, or that he was being kept somewhere being used as a weapon, far from the life the two of you had started to build together.

You tried to move on, tried to convince yourself that Logan was gone, that there was nothing left to find. Yet, deep down you couldn’t give up, even when every sign told you that the man you loved was lost forever.

It was that stubborn hope that had led you here, to a small town on the border of Canada and the U.S. It was a place like so many others you had visited—quiet, unassuming, the kind of place people went when they didn’t want to be found. You had been here for a few days, following another dead-end lead, and you were ready to move on again.

However, something drew you into a local bar, a small, dimly lit place that smelled of stale beer and old wood.

You pushed open the heavy door and stepped inside, the murmur of conversations and the clinking of glasses filling the air. You weren’t expecting much—maybe just a drink to help you sleep, to drown out the endless questions and fears that haunted you. But as your eyes adjusted to the dim light, something—or rather, someone—caught your attention.

There, sitting alone at the bar, was Logan.

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. It couldn’t be. You had been searching for so long, and here he was, just sitting there as if nothing had happened.

He looked different—more worn, intense, but it was undeniably him. The same rugged features, the same broad shoulders, the same haunted look in his eyes that you had come to know so well. But something was off. He seemed distant, detached as if the world around him barely registered.

Heart pounding, you approached him slowly, your mind racing with a million thoughts and emotions. Relief, disbelief, hope—all of them battled for dominance as you took each step closer to him.

“Logan,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you reached his side.

He didn’t react. His eyes were fixed on the glass in front of him, the amber liquid inside swirling as he tilted it slightly. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the weariness etched into his features.

“Logan,” you said again, louder this time, your voice trembling with a mix of desperation and hope.

Finally, he turned to look at you, his gaze slow and deliberate. But the moment his eyes met yours, your heart dropped. There was no recognition there—no spark of familiarity, no hint that he knew who you were.

“Can I help you?” Logan asked, his voice gruff, with no trace of the warmth you had once known so well.

It felt as if the ground had been ripped out from under you. The Logan you had known was gone. The man before you looked like him, sounded like him, but had no memory of the life you had shared.

It took everything in you to fight back the tears. “Sorry, you just… you look like someone I used to know,” you stammered, your voice barely steady.

Logan’s brow furrowed in confusion, and he shook his head slowly. “Sorry, lady. I don’t know you.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you breathless with sorrow yet there was no way you were going to leave not after spending so much time looking for him.

You swallowed hard, forcing a small, tight smile as you tried to play off the hurt that threatened to overwhelm you. “Yeah… must be a mistake,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan gave you a brief, puzzled glance before turning back to his drink, seemingly dismissing the encounter. He took another sip, his attention already drifting away, back to whatever thoughts were occupying his mind.

Your heart felt like it was being crushed under the weight of your emotions, but you fought to keep your composure. You couldn’t fall apart now—not here, not in front of him.

Taking a shaky breath, you moved to the stool next to him and sat down, trying to steady yourself. The bartender approached, wiping down the counter with a practiced ease. “What can I get you?” he asked, his tone polite but disinterested.

“A whiskey, neat,” you replied, your voice steadier than you expected. It felt strange, almost surreal, to be sitting here, ordering a drink like nothing was wrong. Like the man sitting beside you wasn’t the love of your life who had somehow forgotten everything you’d shared.

As you waited for your drink, you stole a glance at Logan. He was staring into his glass, his expression distant, almost lost. He looked tired—exhausted, even—but there was something else in his eyes, something you couldn’t quite place. It was as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, yet had no idea why.

The bartender set your drink in front of you, and you nodded in thanks, wrapping your fingers around the glass. For a moment, you just sat there, staring at the amber liquid, trying to make sense of the situation. How could this have happened? What had Stryker done to him but more importantly, how could you possibly bring him back?

You took a sip, the warmth of the whiskey spreading through your chest, grounding you in the moment. You needed to find out if his memories were completely gone. If they weren’t, there was a possibility you could bring them back. It was risky, especially since you had never tried something like that before.

Logan glanced at you briefly, his brow furrowing again. “You’re still here?” he asked, his voice low and rough.

“It’s a public bar,” you quipped back, the words slipping out more sharply than you intended. “If you don’t like it, then leave.”

You hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, but the situation was fraying your nerves. Logan didn’t seem fazed, though. He simply rolled his eyes and took a long sip from his glass, his expression unreadable.

For a while, the two of you sat in silence, the only sound between you the clinking of glasses and the low hum of conversation from the other patrons. It was both comforting and heartbreaking to be near him despite the divide that existed between you.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Logan spoke again. He glanced at you briefly. “You from around here?”

“No,” you replied, shaking your head slightly. “Just passing through.” The words felt hollow, a cover for the deep truth you couldn’t share with him—at least, not yet.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Logan spoke again, his voice softer, almost hesitant. “You said I looked like someone you used to know. Who was he?”

The question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. How could you possibly explain? But you couldn’t ignore the question either, not when it was the first real hint of interest he had shown in you.

“He was… someone important,” you began, choosing your words carefully. “Someone who meant the world to me. We went through a lot together, and I lost him… a while back.”

Logan’s gaze flickered with something—curiosity, maybe—but he didn’t press further. Instead, he simply nodded, as if understanding something he couldn’t quite put into words.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment, his tone sincere. “Losing people… it’s hard.”

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice thick with emotion. “It is.”

Another silence fell between you, but this one felt different—less strained, more shared. Even if he didn’t remember you, didn’t know who you were, there was still something between you, a connection that hadn’t been completely severed.

As the evening wore on, you both finished your drinks, the conversation dwindling into companionable silence. It wasn’t the reunion you had hoped for, but it was something—a starting point, maybe. You didn’t know what the future held, didn’t know if you could ever bring Logan’s memories back, but sitting there with him, you knew one thing for certain: you weren’t going to give up on him.

Logan eventually pushed his empty glass away and stood up, reaching for his wallet. “Well, it was nice talking to you…,” he said, trailing off as he realized he didn’t know your name.

You offered it, hoping the familiarity would spark something in him, ignite some glimmer of recognition. Logan just nodded, handing the bartender some cash. “Nice talking to you,” he replied, his tone polite but distant.

He gave you a final, almost apologetic glance before turning and heading toward the door. You watched him go, your heart aching with every step he took away from you.

You drained the last of your whiskey, setting the glass down with a quiet determination. This was just the beginning of a new chapter and no matter how long it took, you were going to fight for him. Deep down, you believed that the man you loved was still in there, somewhere.

─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────

For the next few days, you camped out at the bar, hoping Logan would return. It felt helpless, a long shot at best, but all logical ideas had vanished from your mind. How else could you find him, connect with him, or get another chance to help him remember?

You sat at the same stool each evening, nursing a drink and watching the door with a mixture of hope and dread. Every time the door creaked open, your heart would leap, only to sink again when it wasn’t him. The bartender had started giving you curious looks, probably wondering why you kept coming back. But you didn’t care. You had to be there, just in case.

On the third night, as you sat swirling the whiskey in your glass, lost in thought, the door opened again. This time, when you looked up, your breath caught in your throat.

Logan had returned.

He walked in with the same weary expression, the weight of the world on his shoulders. He glanced around the room, his eyes passing over you briefly before he moved to the bar. There was no recognition, no sign that anything had changed for him.

But it was enough. He was here, and that meant you had another chance.

You watched as he ordered a drink, his movements methodical, almost robotic. He looked like a man going through the motions, detached from everything around him. It hurt to see him this way, so far from the Logan you had known, but it only strengthened your resolve.

After a moment, you took a deep breath and approached him, sliding into the seat next to him as casually as you could manage. “Back again, I see,” you said, trying to keep your tone light.

Logan glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “Yeah,” he replied simply, taking a sip from his glass. There was no recognition in his eyes, just the same detached politeness as before. 

You hesitated, searching for the right words. You couldn’t push too hard, couldn’t overwhelm him, but you had to do something—anything—to get through to him. “So, do you come here often?” you asked, the cliché question sounding awkward even to your ears, but it was a start.

Logan set his drink down, his brows furrowing as he turned to you. “Look, lady. What do you want from me? Who do you work for?”

The abruptness of his question caught you off guard, and your heart skipped a beat. There was a sharp edge to his voice, a defensive suspicion that hadn’t been there before. It was as if, deep down, some part of him sensed the truth—that this wasn’t just a casual conversation, that there was something more beneath the surface.

“I don’t work for anyone,” you replied quickly, trying to keep your voice calm despite the sudden tension. “I’m just…”

Logan’s eyes narrowed, studying you closely, his gaze sharp and unyielding. “You don’t just ‘talk’ to strangers like this. So why me? What’s your angle?”

You swallowed hard, feeling the pressure of his scrutiny, but Logan wasn’t easing up. He leaned in closer, his presence overwhelming, the familiar scent of him invading your senses. “You think you’re clever, darlin’? I’ve sat across the street watching you come in this bar for days—waiting for me.”

His words cut through you, and your heart raced as you realized he had been more aware of you than you’d thought. There was an intensity in his eyes, a mixture of suspicion and something else—something darker, more dangerous.

“I’m not trying to trick you,” you said, your voice steadying even as your pulse quickened. You needed a lie, a good one. “I’m just lost. I thought maybe—” 

“Maybe what?” Logan interrupted, his tone harsh. “You thought you could just waltz in here, play nice, and I’d spill my guts?” 

You shook your head, desperate to break through the wall he was putting up. “No, it’s not like that. I’m not here to hurt you.” You hesitated, feeling the weight of the truth pressing down on you. You couldn’t tell him everything—not yet.

For a long moment, Logan just stared at you, his eyes searching yours for answers he couldn’t find. Then, with a frustrated growl, he pushed back from the bar, shaking his head as if trying to clear it.

“Look, lady, I don’t know who you are or what you think you know, but I’m not the guy you’re looking for,” he said, his voice hardening again. “So fuck off.”

The harshness of his words hit you like a blow, but you nodded, too scared to even speak again. You watched as he turned away, your heart heavy with the realization that the man you once knew was buried even deeper than you had feared.

You decided you weren’t going to leave, not yet. You needed to see if there was any part of the man you knew still inside him. Maybe if you gave him some space, and kept your distance, you could still figure out a way to reach him.

The bar was getting busier, more people trickling in as the night wore on. You wandered over to the pool table, where a couple of guys were already playing. One of them, a tall, broad-shouldered man with a cocky grin, caught your eye. He gestured toward the table with his pool cue, clearly inviting you to join.

You forced a smile and nodded, figuring it was as good a distraction as any. You needed something to take your mind off the encounter with Logan, something to keep you grounded in the here and now. Playing pool with some random guy would help pass the time and give you a chance to stay in the bar without drawing too much attention to yourself.

“Mind if I join?” you asked as you approached, keeping your voice light.

“Not at all,” the guy said with a grin, handing you a cue. “Name’s Jake. What about you?”

You hesitated for a split second, before offering a fake name. “Anna.” 

“Well, Anna, let’s see if you’re any good,” Jake said with a wink.

You tried to relax, focusing on the game as Jake racked up the balls and took his first shot. He was good, but you weren’t bad either, and soon you found yourself getting into the rhythm of the game. Jake kept the conversation going with light banter and flirtatious comments, but you brushed most of it off, keeping your responses neutral.

As the game went on, Jake’s flirting grew bolder. He stood a little too close, his hand lingering on yours when he passed you the cue, his compliments becoming more suggestive. You tried to keep things light, laughing off his advances, but you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that was starting to settle in the pit of your stomach.

Finally, after you sank a particularly tricky shot, Jake leaned in close, his voice low. “You know, you’re pretty good at this,” he said, his breath warm against your ear. “But I bet there’s something else you’re even better at.”

You stiffened, pulling back slightly. “Thanks for the game, Jake,” you said, trying to keep your tone casual as you turned to set down your cue. “But I think I’m done for the night.”

Before you could move away, Jake’s hand shot out, grabbing your arm. “Oh, come on, don’t be like that,” he said, his tone still playful but with an edge that sent a shiver down your spine. “I’m just having a little fun.”

“I said I’m done,” you repeated, trying to pull your arm free but Jake tightened his grip, pulling you closer. You tried to squirm your hands to make direct contact with him, but his grip tightened making your powers useless. 

“Don’t be so uptight,” he said, his voice darkening as he backed you up against the wall. “We were just getting started.”

Fear spiked through you as Jake pressed closer, his body trapping yours against the rough wood. You could feel the tension in his grip, the predatory look in his eyes, and you knew this was about to go very wrong.

“Jake, let me go,” you demanded, trying to keep your voice firm despite the fear clawing at you.

Jake just smirked, leaning in even closer. “I don’t think you really want that,” he whispered, his breath hot against your cheek.

Panic flared in your chest, but before you could react, a hand suddenly clamped down on Jake’s shoulder, yanking him back with surprising force. Jake stumbled backward, catching himself on the edge of the pool table, but froze as three long, metal claws pressed against his throat.

“Get your hands off her,” a low, familiar voice growled.

You looked up, your heart pounding, to see Logan standing there, his expression dark with anger. He didn’t look at you; his eyes were locked on Jake, who had sobered up instantly, clearly not expecting to be interrupted—especially not like this. 

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Jake asked, panic seeping into his voice as Logan’s claws pressed closer to his throat. You watched in horror, realizing that something was different about Logan—his once bone claws had been replaced with metal.

“What’s it matter to you, bub?” Logan snarled, his voice carrying a deadly edge.

Jake’s eyes darted between the claws and Logan’s face, fear widening his eyes. “Alright, man, just… just take it easy,” he stammered, his bravado completely shattered. “I didn’t know she was yours.”

“She’s not,” Logan snapped, the metal claws glinting under the dim bar lights. “But that doesn’t mean you get to put your hands on her.”

Jake swallowed hard, nodding frantically as he tried to lean away from the deadly claws. “Okay, okay, I got it. I won’t touch her, I swear.”

Logan held Jake’s terrified gaze for a moment longer before finally stepping back, retracting his claws with a sharp metallic sound that echoed through the now-silent bar. Jake nearly collapsed with relief, scrambling to get as far away from Logan as possible.

“Get out of here,” Logan growled, his voice still low and menacing.

Jake didn’t need to be told twice. He practically bolted for the door, not daring to look back. The bar patrons, who had been watching the scene unfold in stunned silence, began murmuring among themselves, the tension in the air slowly dissipating.

Yet the tension in the air was still thick between you and Logan as he turned, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of injury. “You trying to start a bar fight?” he asked gruffly, his voice still edged with anger.

You shook your head, your heart pounding as Logan stepped closer to you. He stared at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours as if trying to make sense of the emotions warring inside him. Finally, he nodded, his expression softening just a fraction. “You shouldn’t be here,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. 

He stepped closer, just inches between the two of you, as he brought his hands up, bracing them on the wall behind you, closing you in between his arms. The heat of his body radiated toward you, his presence overwhelming as his gaze locked onto yours.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The air between you crackled with tension, a mix of fear, longing, and something deeper that neither of you could fully name. Logan’s breath was warm against your skin, his closeness intoxicating, but there was a wariness in his eyes—a warning that this was a line you shouldn’t cross.

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” he whispered, his voice rough, tinged with something almost vulnerable.

Despite the warning in his words, he didn’t pull away. He stayed there, inches from you as if torn between the urge to protect you and the desire to completely ruin you.

“You did that shit to get my attention, sweetheart. Go on, admit it.”

You shook your head again, pressing your body flat against the wall, but you couldn’t deny the heat spreading through you. Desire was building, stirred by the way Logan had protected you, by the raw intensity in his eyes.

Logan tsked softly, his lips brushing against your cheek before he whispered in your ear, his voice low and teasing. “So, you’re just wet for no reason?”

“I—I…” You stumbled over your words, your mind racing as you completely forgot that Logan could smell your arousal. It had been so long—one year, two days, and three hours—since he last touched you. This was a terrible, horrible idea, but if you could make direct contact, you might be able to see if his memories were still there.

Logan’s lips curled into a smirk, his breath hot against your ear. “If you wanted me to fuck you, all you had to do was ask, baby.”

Your heart pounded, a mixture of fear and longing swirling inside you. You knew this was dangerous, knew that giving in could complicate everything—but the thought of being close to him again, of maybe finding a way to reach the man you loved, was almost too much to resist.

“I want you to touch me,” you finally said, your voice a bit weak, but resolute. “To make me feel good.”

Logan smirked, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pulled you toward the bathroom. In a blur of motion, he had the door locked and pushed you against it, his lips crashing against yours with a fierce, almost desperate intensity.

Slowly, you snaked your hand up his shirt, hesitant but determined, and placed it on his chest. The contact was electric, your palm pressed against the hard planes of muscle beneath the fabric. You could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, unyielding, grounding you in the moment. For a second, you closed your eyes, focusing on the connection, willing yourself to find something—anything—that would prove the man you loved was still in there.

As your hand remained on his chest, something shifted. Recent memories flashed before your eyes, unbidden and vivid. You saw Stryker, his cold, calculating gaze fixed on Logan, and then Victor, throwing Logan against a wall with brutal force before stepping on his bone claws, breaking them in half.

You saw Logan submerged in water, long needles being injected into every inch of his body, before he broke out of the tank, screaming. Every recent memory was filled with regret, pain, and fear, flooding your mind until you could barely hold on.

Your chest tightened as the images surged through you, the reality of what Logan had endured washing over you in relentless waves. His pain, his anger, his confusion—it was all there, just beneath the surface, trapped within him. The memories were fragmented and disjointed, but they were enough to confirm what you had feared and hoped for the man you loved was still there, buried beneath the torment.

Logan pulled back slightly, his breath ragged, as if sensing the shift in you. “What’s wrong?” he muttered, his voice rough but tinged with genuine concern.

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze, and for a moment, the intensity of what you had just seen left you speechless. The man standing before you was the same Logan you had always known, yet he was different—burdened by new memories and experiences that had left him deeply scarred.

“It’s nothing,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you struggled to push the memories aside, to stay in the moment with him. “Just… don’t stop.”

Logan’s eyes searched yours as if trying to read the truth behind your words, but then he nodded, pressing his forehead against yours. You gasped as his hand lifted your dress, pushing your panties aside before sliding two fingers into your entrance. “I won’t,” he promised, his voice low, almost guttural.

You nodded, swallowing hard as you tried to steady yourself. It was impossible to focus as his fingers thrusted in and out of you, the pleasure making your body tremble. But you pushed it aside, forcing yourself to slip back inside Logan’s mind, determined to find the man you knew was still there.

More images flickered by—scenes from his childhood, memories you had glimpsed before. Little Logan—or James—was sick in bed, his father comforting him by reading a story. You felt a pang of sadness, but you skipped ahead, not wanting to lose yourself that far in the past, knowing you needed to stay focused.

Then, suddenly, you saw it. A memory of you flickered by. Logan standing there as you danced around the living room, wearing his plaid shirt and grinning at him. You remembered that moment so well—the joy, the love, the simple happiness of being together.

Logan’s lips found yours again, the kiss slower this time, more deliberate, pulling you out of his mind. You sighed into it, letting the memory linger as his kiss deepened. Your desire was building, but you felt something else—a flicker of recognition, a spark of the man you loved. It was faint, buried under layers of pain and confusion, but it was there. Logan might not remember everything, but at this moment, in this connection, there was a part of him that was still yours.

You pulled back slightly, your breath shaky, as the weight of it all pressed down on you. “Logan…”

His voice, low and rough, sent a shiver through you. “You take my fingers so well, darling.”

You closed your eyes, trying to anchor yourself in the moment, trying to hold on to that spark of recognition you’d found. “Logan…,” you whispered again, your voice trembling with both need and the deep, unshakable love you felt for him.

He paused, his fingers still buried inside you, his breath hot against your neck. There was a beat of silence, thick with tension and unspoken words as if he was struggling to hold onto something—some part of himself that was slipping away.

Your eyes flickered open as Logan’s fingers slowly slipped out of you, his expression shifting from raw intensity to something more distant, confused. His brow furrowed, and he took a small step back, almost as if he were trying to retreat within himself.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, concern threading through your voice as you tried to take a step toward him, but the space between you suddenly felt vast.

Logan shook his head slightly as if trying to clear it. “I… I don’t know,” he muttered, his voice uncharacteristically uncertain. His eyes darted away from you as if he couldn’t bear to meet your gaze. “I must be losing it.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, the raw vulnerability in his voice cutting deep. You reached out, your hand trembling slightly as you gently cupped his face, forcing him to look at you. “Logan,” you said softly, willing him to hear the certainty in your voice.

He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch as if seeking some kind of anchor in the storm raging inside him. Yet when he opened them again, they were clouded with doubt, the flicker of recognition you had seen earlier slipping further away.

“Everything’s so messed up in my head,” Logan whispered, the words carrying the weight of his turmoil.

You swallowed hard, the pain in his voice making your heartache. “Then let me help you,” you whispered, your thumb brushing gently across his cheek. “I can help you remember.”

Logan searched your eyes, the conflict within him clear as day. For a moment, you thought he might pull away completely, and retreat into the walls he had built around himself. But then, something shifted in his gaze—a flicker of the man you knew, the man who had always fought for you, no matter what.

His voice hung in the air, rough and hesitant, echoing with uncertainty. “What if I don’t want to remember?”

The question lingered between you, heavy with unspoken fears. For a moment, you were at a loss for words, caught off guard by the raw honesty in his eyes. You had been so focused on helping him remember, on bringing back the man you loved, that it hadn’t occurred to you that maybe he didn’t want to return to who he was before. Perhaps the memories he’d lost were too painful, too overwhelming to reclaim.

“Logan,” you began softly, your heart tightening at the sight of his troubled expression. “I know you’ve been a lot, but I know the man you are deep down, even if you don’t remember him right now.”

His eyes darkened, conflicted as if he was grappling with something he couldn’t quite articulate. “What if… what if remembering makes it worse? I get a glimpse every night of what it feels like—all the pain I’ve been trying to get away from.”

You felt a lump form in your throat, the intensity of his emotions washing over you. “I can’t promise you it won’t hurt, but you don’t have to go through it alone. You once told me that the pain lets you know you’re still alive.”

Logan’s gaze softened, but the uncertainty still lingered in his eyes. He took a deep breath as if steeling himself for what he was about to say. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough to face it,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Your heart ached for him, for the weight of the burden he was carrying, but you refused to let him sink back into that darkness. “You are strong enough, Logan,” you said firmly, your grip on his face tightening slightly. “You’ve always been strong enough.”

Logan closed his eyes again as if absorbing your words, letting them settle deep within him. When he opened them, there was a glimmer of something new—hope, perhaps, or at least the beginnings of it. “I’m scared of what I’ve done… of who I’ve become.”

You could see the fear etched in his features, the same fear that had been lurking beneath the surface since the moment you saw him at the diner. “Whatever you’ve done, whatever you’ve become,” you said gently, “it doesn’t change the fact that you’re still the man I love. And nothing is going to change that.”

Logan stared at you, his expression a mixture of disbelief and longing as if he was daring to hope for something he thought he had lost. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

“You don’t get to decide that,” you replied softly, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I’m here because I choose to be. Because I love you, Logan. All of you, no matter what.”

For a long moment, Logan didn’t say anything. He just stood there, his forehead still pressed against yours, his eyes searching yours as if looking for something to hold onto. Then, slowly, he nodded, the smallest hint of a smile breaking through the storm in his gaze.

“Fine,” he whispered, the word filled with a fragile hope. “Alright… we’ll try.”

You felt a surge of relief, the tension in your chest easing slightly as you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. “We’ll try,” you echoed, your voice soft but filled with determination. “We’ll take it one step at a time.”

Logan’s arms encircled you, holding you close as if afraid you might disappear if he let go. For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a sense of calm settle over you. It wasn’t the end of the struggle, but it was a beginning—a chance to rebuild, to find each other again, and to face whatever memories surfaced together.

The dingy hotel room smelled of stale cigarettes and spilled alcohol as you walked in. It was clear Logan had been living like this for a while, drifting from town to town, drinking away his misery.

You sat down on the edge of the bed, the springs creaking beneath you, as Logan shut the door behind him. The atmosphere felt heavy, laden with the weight of what had happened earlier at the bar. It was strange to be here, in this small, dark room, after everything that had transpired between you.

“So, how does this work?” Logan eventually asked, his voice gruff as he leaned against the wall. Despite agreeing to this, he kept a noticeable distance between you, as if unsure of what might happen next.

You sighed, rubbing your forehead, trying to collect your thoughts. This wasn’t easy for either of you, but it had to be done. “I just need to have direct contact with you,” you explained, your voice calm and steady despite the uncertainty you felt. “I can go through your memories and hopefully bring them forward for you to see.”

Logan nodded, but his eyes were distant. “In the bathroom—” His voice trailed off momentarily, making your heart race. “Did you… look inside my mind?”

“I did, but look, I’m sorry,” you quickly responded, your voice trembling as you took a step closer to him. “I just wanted to know if you were still—” Tears welled up in your eyes as the words caught in your throat. “I needed to know you were still my Logan. I wouldn’t have done it if I wasn’t desperate.”

Logan shook his head, walking past you over to the bed. “You can’t do that shit to people,” he muttered, his voice low and rough, avoiding your gaze as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

“I know. I’m sorry,” you replied, wiping at your tears, trying to hold back the flood of emotions. “I was desperate. I’ve been looking for you for over a year, and—”

“What?” Logan spat, his eyes finally darting to meet yours, the intensity of his gaze startling you.

You went silent, feeling the anger bubbling up inside him, the tension in the room thickening. His posture tensed, his fists clenching as he tried to rein in his emotions.  

You stood there, his gaze heavy on your shoulders, as the silence stretched between you. Logan’s chest heaved with restrained anger, his eyes burning with a mixture of betrayal and hurt that cut through you like a knife.

“You’ve been looking for me for over a year?” he repeated, his voice low and dangerous, the words laced with disbelief. “Why didn’t you think to tell me that before? Instead, you just… violated my mind without asking?”

His words stung, each one landing with the force of a physical blow. You wanted to reach out, to soothe the pain you saw in his eyes, but you knew he wasn’t ready for that. Not yet.

“I didn’t want to lie to you,” you began, your voice barely above a whisper. “I was scared and it wasn’t like I could just dump all this information on you hoping it would jog your memory. I thought I lost you forever, so when I finally found you…I didn’t know what else to do. I just needed to know if there was any part of you that remembered us, remembered me.”

Logan ran a hand through his hair, the frustration evident in his every movement. He looked away from you, his jaw clenched tight. “I get that you were scared. I do. But that doesn’t make it right,” he said, his voice rough with emotion.

You felt a wave of guilt wash over you, knowing that you had crossed a line, even if your intentions had been pure.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your throat tightening with the weight of your regret. “I should have asked. I should have trusted that you’d come back to me on your own.”

Logan finally looked back at you, his expression softening just a fraction. There was still anger in his eyes, but there was something else there too—confusion, maybe even a trace of understanding. “I’m not good at this… at letting people in,” he said, his voice gruff but laced with vulnerability. 

“I know,” you said, taking a cautious step closer. “Trust me. I know because you didn’t let me in right away. It took time but I’m willing to do whatever it takes to help you through this. If you need space, I’ll give it to you. If you need time, I’ll wait. Just… please don’t shut me out.”

Logan stared at you for a long moment, his emotions warring within him. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the struggle to reconcile his anger with the love he still felt for you. His breath came out in a shaky exhale, and he finally nodded, though his expression remained guarded. 

“Something tells me I don’t want to lose you.” 

“You won’t,” you assured him, your voice firm with conviction. “We’ll get through this, Logan. One step at a time.”

He nodded again, his shoulders sagging slightly as some of the tension left his body. “Okay,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “But no more going into my head without asking. I need to be able to trust you.”

“You have my word,” you promised, taking another step closer until you were standing right in front of him.

Logan searched your eyes as if looking for any sign of doubt, any hint that you might betray him again. But when he found none, he let out a heavy sigh, his expression softening as he finally allowed himself to relax.

“Alright,” he said quietly, his voice still tinged with uncertainty but also with a glimmer of hope. “Let’s try again… together.”

You smiled, the tension in the room finally easing as you reached out to take his hand. He hesitated for just a moment before lacing his fingers with yours, the contact a small but significant step toward healing the rift between you.

“Are you ready?” you asked gently, searching his eyes for any last-minute hesitation.

Logan gave a curt nod, but the tension in his grip told you all you needed to know—this was as ready as he was going to be.

You took a deep breath, centering yourself before focusing on the connection between you. Slowly, you let your power flow through you, using the contact to delve into Logan’s mind, searching through the tangled web of memories that had been locked away.

“I’ll try to go slow but sometimes the mind is an unpredictable place.” You said in a soothing voice. 

At first, it was chaotic—flashes of scenes, emotions, and images that didn’t quite make sense. But as you guided your power deeper, you began to find the threads that mattered, the memories that had shaped who Logan was before he became lost.

His breath hitched as a particularly painful memory emerged—a moment of betrayal, the image of Stryker’s cold eyes flashing in his mind. You squeezed his hand, grounding him, reminding him that you were there, that he wasn’t alone.

And then, slowly, the fog began to lift. Logan’s grip on your hand tightened as more memories surfaced, clearer this time. Moments of his past life, of battles fought and bonds formed. And then, there were glimpses of you, moments that had once brought him solace and peace.

You felt his body start to relax, the tension easing as the memories became more familiar, more real. His breathing slowed, his eyes focusing as he began to piece together the fragments of who he once was.

When you finally pulled back, the connection severing, Logan let out a shaky breath, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours. There was a new clarity in his gaze, a recognition that hadn’t been there before.

“How do you feel?” you asked, your voice filled with hope. 

Logan stared at you for a moment, his expression a mix of relief and lingering uncertainty. “I remembered... some things but it’s still a mess in my head.”

“That’s okay,” you said, squeezing his hand gently. “It’ll take time. We’ll keep working at it if you want to.” 

For the first time since you’d entered the room, Logan’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Yeah. I saw those moments of me…with you. I can see why you are fighting so hard.” he murmured, the sincerity in his voice unmistakable.

You returned his smile, feeling a sense of hope that hadn’t been there before. It was a start—a fragile, tentative start, but a start nonetheless. 

─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────

Five years had passed since that night in the bar. The road had been long and difficult, but together, you and Logan had faced every challenge, every memory, every fear. Piece by piece, memory by memory, you helped him reclaim his past, using your powers to bring back what had been taken from him while soothing the pain that came with it.

Sometimes, you blinked forgetting so much time had passed. The two of you have built a life far away from the chaos that once defined both of your existence. 

Nestled in the serene wilderness in the middle of nowhere you had found a home—a place where the past was put to rest and the future was whatever you wanted it to be. 

What surprised you most was how Logan had found peace in this quiet life and had blossomed into the role of a loving husband and father. 

The sound of laughter filled the warm, sunlit kitchen as Logan chased your daughter around the table pretending to be a tickle monster. At four years old, your little girl was a whirlwind of energy and curiosity. You chuckled as her little feet pattered across the wooden floor trying to escape Logan’s playful clutches. 

“Gotcha, kiddo!” Logan said, his deep voice filled with joy as he peppered her face with kisses. Your daughter giggled uncontrollably, her tiny hands gripping his shirt as she wriggled in his arms.

“No!” she shrieked through her laughter, her eyes sparkling with happiness. “Not the tickles!”

Logan grinned, the sight of his daughter’s pure delight warming his heart. He finally relented, setting her down on the ground and ruffling her hair. “Alright, alright, you win this time,” he said, his tone mock-serious.

She beamed up at him, her wide grin showing off the tiny gap where one of her baby teeth had recently fallen out. “I always win!” she declared, her voice filled with the confidence only a four-year-old could muster.

You watched from the kitchen counter, your heart swelling with love as you took in the scene. It was moments like these that made everything worth it—the struggles, the pain, the journey you had both endured to get here. You placed a hand on your slightly rounded belly, feeling the gentle flutter of the new life growing inside you. The little one would be arriving in a few months, and the thought filled you with both excitement and a hint of nervousness.

“She’s got you wrapped around her little finger,” you teased, smiling as Logan walked over to you, your daughter still clinging to his leg.

Logan shrugged, giving you a sheepish grin. “What can I say? She’s tough to resist,” he said, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips before placing a gentle hand on your belly. “How’s our little one doing today?”

“She’s been kicking up a storm,” you replied, your smile widening as you felt a little nudge against your hand. “I think she’s excited to meet you.” 

Logan’s eyes softened, his gaze full of love and contentment. “I can’t wait to meet her too,” he said, his voice full of wonder.

You reached up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing over the faint lines that time and life had etched into his face. “I love you,” you said softly.

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment as if savoring the simple, peaceful life you’d built together. When he opened them again, the love you saw there was so deep, so powerful, that it took your breath away.

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I love you and our girls more than anything in this world.”

“We love you too,” you replied, your heart full as you leaned in for another kiss, this one slower, more tender.

Your daughter, never one to be left out, tugged on Logan’s pant leg, demanding attention. “Play with me again!”

Logan chuckled, pulling back slightly from the kiss to glance down at his eager daughter. “Alright, alright. What do you want to play this time, kiddo?”

“Hide and seek!” she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with excitement.

“Hide and seek it is,” Logan agreed, lifting her again and spinning her around before setting her down. “But you better hide good, ‘cause I’m the best seeker in all of Canada!”

“Dinner’s almost done, so don’t play too long,” you called as your daughter dashed off to find the perfect hiding spot.

You watched Logan, your heart brimming with love and gratitude. This life, this family—this was everything you had ever wanted. And knowing that Logan had found happiness here, with you and your daughters, made it all the more precious.

With a deep sense of peace, you turned your attention back to preparing dinner, listening to the sound of your husband and daughter’s laughter filling the house. It was a sound you’d never grow tired of, a reminder of just how far you’d come and how much you’d overcome together.