#and i don’t want to be called on to answer a question i don’t know the answer to

[felinefractious]

[Image Source]

Gene Behind Orange Fur in Cats Found at Last

Shared from Science.org.

It would be pretty easy to guess that Garfield was a tomcat even if you didn’t know his name—or didn’t want to peek under his tail. Most orange cats are boys, a quirk of feline genetics that also explains why almost all calicos and tortoiseshells are girls.

Scientists curious about those sex differences—or perhaps just cat lovers—have spent more than 60 years unsuccessfully seeking the gene that causes orange fur and the striking patchwork of colors in calicos and tortoiseshells. Now, two teams have independently found the long-awaited mutation and discovered a protein that influences hair color in a way never seen before in any animal.

“I am fully convinced this is the gene and am happy,” says Carolyn Brown, a University of British Columbia geneticist who was not involved in either study. “It’s a question I’ve always wanted the answer to.”

Scientists have long been fascinated by tortoiseshell and calico cats: the offspring of a black cat and an orange cat. Multicolored cats from such a cross are almost always female, suggesting the gene variant that makes fur orange or black is located on the X chromosome. The male offspring of such a cross are typically unicolor because they inherit just one parent’s X chromosome: We can guess, for instance, that Garfield’s mother is orange because he inherited his only X chromosome from her.**

But female cats inherit an X chromosome from each parent. Cells don’t generally need both, so during embryonic development each cell randomly chooses one X to express genes from. The other chromosome rolls up into a mostly inert ball—a phenomenon called X inactivation. As a result, tortoiseshell cats end up with separate patches of black and orange fur depending on which chromosome was inactivated in that part of their skin. Calico cats add white fur into the mix because they have a second, unrelated genetic mechanism that shuts down pigment production in some cells.

In most mammals, including humans, red hair is caused by mutations in one cell surface protein, Mc1r, that determines whether skin cells called melanocytes produce a dark pigment or a lighter red-yellow pigment in skin or hair. Mutations that make Mc1r less active cause melanocytes to get “stuck” producing the light pigment.

But the gene encoding Mc1r didn’t seem explain where cats’ orange fur came from. It isn’t located on the X chromosome in cats or any other species—and most orange cats don’t have Mc1r mutations. “It’s been a genetic mystery, a conundrum,” says Greg Barsh, a geneticist at Stanford University.

To solve it, Barsh’s team collected skin samples from four orange and four nonorange fetuses from cats at spay-neuter clinics. As a proxy to determine how individual skin cells express genes, the researchers measured the amount of RNA that each melanocyte was producing and determined the gene it encoded. Melanocytes from orange cats, they found, made 13 times as much RNA from a gene called Arhgap36. The gene is located on the X chromosome, which led the team to think they had the key to orange color.

But when the researchers looked at Arhgap36’s genetic sequence in orange cats, they didn’t find any mutations in the DNA that encodes the Arhgap36 protein. Instead, they found the orange cats were missing a nearby stretch of DNA that didn’t affect the protein’s amino acid components but might be involved in regulating how much of it the cell produced. Scanning a database of 188 cat genomes, Barsh’s team found every single orange, calico, and tortoiseshell cat had the exact same mutation. The group reports the discovery this month on the preprint server bioRxiv.

A separate study, also posted to bioRxiv this month, confirms these findings. Similar experiments run by developmental biologist Hiroyuki Sasaki at Kyushu University and his colleagues revealed the same genetic deletion in 24 feral and pet cats from Japan, as well as among 258 cat genomes collected from around the world. They also found that skin from calico cats had more Arghap36 RNA in orange regions than in brown or black regions. Moreover Arhgap36 genes in mice, cats, and humans acquire chemical modifications that silence them on one of the two X chromosomes in females, Sasaki’s team documented, suggesting the gene is subject to X inactivation.

When Barsh and Sasaki learned their respective teams had discovered the same mutation, they decided to post their preprints at the same time. (Because they are preprints, neither study has been peer reviewed.) Both groups further found that increasing the amount of Arhgap36 in melanocytes activates a molecular pathway that switches the cells to producing light red pigment regardless of whether MC1r is active.

No one previously knew Arhgap36 could affect skin or hair coloration—it is involved in many aspects of embryonic development, and major mutations that affect its function throughout the body would probably kill the animal, Barsh says. But because the deletion mutation appears to only affect Arhgap36 function in melanocytes, cats with the mutation are not only healthy, but also cute.

Arhgap36’s inactivation pattern in calicos and tortoiseshells is typical of a gene on the X chromosome, Brown says, but it’s unusual that a deletion mutation would make a gene more active, not less. “There is probably something special about cats.”

Experts are thrilled by the two studies. “It’s a long-awaited gene,” says Leslie Lyons, a feline geneticist at the University of Missouri. The discovery of a new molecular pathway for hair color was unexpected, she says, but she’s not surprised how complex the interactions seem to be. “No gene ever stands by itself.”

Lyons would like to know where and when the mutation first appeared: There is some evidence, she says, that certain mummified Egyptian cats were orange. Research into cat color has revealed all kinds of phenomena, she says, including how the environment influences gene expression. “Everything you need to know about genetics you can learn from your cat.”

A Deletion at the X-linked Arhgap36 Gene Locus is Associated With the Orange Coloration of Tortoiseshell and Calico Cats

Molecular and Genetic Characterization of Sex-linked Orange Coat Color in the Domestic Cat

**Minor correction: Garfield’s mother could also have been a tortoiseshell.

[drowninginblox]

Thank you @possumtion for allowing me to make a drabble out of your work! You rock and keep up the amazingness!!

"Hey, furball?" Logan growled from the front passenger's seat. It was late. Really, really late when the X-Mansion had to be evacuated. Something something mansion’s rubble.

Everyone got out okay and you called a cousin to house all these displaced mutants, but after the hustle and bustle of everything that's happened in the last 7 hours... Yeah. You weren't surprised to see Kurt curled into himself. "Logan, he's out cold." You whisper through a smile. "We're thirty minutes away from the safe house," Logan warned before returning to the front window.

You take a moment to look at the passing terrain. All of you were bordering the Maine and the Canadian. To the point where the woods where to the two blurred served as a great hiding spot. The dark blues and blacks of night where lightening with the up coming dawn. Yet they couldn’t distract you from the masterpiece you’ve been sharing the backseat with. A small smile and contemptuous sigh ease you back into the comfort of knowing that he’s safe.

You've been pining for Kurt for a long time. Honestly, it's impressive. All the X-Men know outside of the object of your affection. And given your history with relationships, you were absolutely fine with that being the case.

Pinning has been your closest friend and that bitch is back to hold you through the feelings while your eyes lingered on him. The peaceful demeanor, the way his chest rose and fell in a subtle but smooth rhythm, even the reactions of his tail flicking between the crevice of his toes in response to his sweet dreams. If he even was dreaming... you hoped that he was. He deserved to dream.

Eventually, you broke away from him just to see the soft light of a… well… “Well look at what being a Potts can do for you…” Morph said a little too loud as they got closer to the property. You can only tap them as a way to get them to shut up. “One, by marriage. And Two, distant.” You gritted “Do not get used to this.” Logan chuckled lightly as he cracked open a window, allowing the soft crunch of the driveway to make itself known.

While he lit a cigar, you noticed Kurt stirring out of the corner of your eye. You leaned back in your seat as he slowly opened his tired eyes “Mmm…” he mumbled. You can only smile softly. As sad as you were to see his sleep interrupted, the sight before you was nothing less than adorable.

You watched as he stirred, eventually putting a hand on his knee and shake it a little “Hey,… hey Kurt… cmon… we’re here.” You say softly. His eyes slowly open while you move your hand away. “Hey hero. Cmon. We got room and board. No need to sleep in the car.” Morph snorts “Little bit of an understatement, huh Y/n?” You give Morph an even look from the mirror, making them raise their hands in defense as they park.

“Hey, hey- sor-ry!” You roll your eyes as you, Logan and Morph head out. Kurt meanwhile, takes his time to stretch. You do the same once you’re out, glancing over to Kurt through the still open door. “Hey Kurt, ya alright?” He only gives a heavy yawn, to which you chuckle “You want some help big guy?”

He shakes his head with another large yawn, showing off those fangs of his. You laugh again and close your door, making your way to his side of the car. Once you get there, you open his door to see his eyes still closed. “Cmon man,” he sighs “Y/n-“

“Don’t start with me Kurt. I will carry you.” He manages to partially open eyes “You would?” You nod. “Just cus I’m not an XMan anymore dosent mean I can’t pick ya up.” He smiles softly. “Ok okay… let me get out…” you offer your hand, to which he takes, guiding him out of the car. “Princess, jump up, or fireman?” You offer even though you already know the answer. He laughs “Is that even a question?” You smile and ready your arms.

His arms immediately wrap around your neck while you ready for his legs “One, two,…” he jumps and you hold his thighs with ease. “Okay spider monkey, let’s get ya to bed.” He only sighs against your chest as you walk inside.

Tony Stark’s house shouldn’t be as surprising to you by now. But every time you step into a different iteration, there’s always a new surprise. “Smaller kitchen… bigger living room… of course the wine cabinet is next to the flat screen…” you mumble as you take note of the accommodations. Kurt traces shapes into your back and arms as you do so, humming loosely to your notes “Ah… sorry Kurt. Don’t worry, just a quick trip up the stairs…” you mumble into his hair. “I gotcha. Just close those eyes.” You glance to see Morph covering their mouth while Logan glances knowingly. You send them a look, gaining a knowing smile from Morph and a shake of the head out of Logan before both turn away.

You lifted Kurt up a little more and cautiously made your way upstairs. Most of the guestrooms are on the lower level and all of which are filled, knowing your coworkers. You bypass Tony’s/Pepper's room, and head to the guestroom across from it. Peering inside allowed you to ensure that no one was in, entering as soon as the coast was clear. “ Okay, Kurt… we’re here, buddy.” You whisper “‘Time to get off the Y/n express.” You say with a chuckle. He matches it sleepily. “My hero…” he mumbled, loosening his hold on you when you carefully set him down. He hums and yawns at the mattress while you start to take your leave.

When he notices you leaving, he gets up “Mmm? Warte, hey- wohin gehst du? Where are you going?” You turn back. “Oh, uh… the couch. Or another guest room. Why?” He wakes up a little at that “Habe ich etwas falsch gemacht? Why would you?” He asks into the thick air. A blush creeps onto your face as his question stops everything. “What?” You whispered.

He pulls his legs up and sits on the edge of the bed “Y/n, you don’t have to leave…” you struggle to find your words, leaving a dense silence in the wake of his quiet offer. “Y/n, I trust you. I know we've never been in a situation like this before, and you obviously don’t have to if you don’t want to, but…” his tail disrupts the sheets on the bed from its gentle flicks back and forth. “Gott, das ist vielleicht egoistisch von mir, but I wouldn’t mind if you did. ” You hesitate but take a step away from the door. “Would this… is this platonic or…?”

Kurt’s eyes widened a little at that, processing the question in kind. Eventually, he holds the back of his neck and looks away “I- well Scheiße, … what would you want it to be?” You look down. You know you can be honest with him, always. Yet this is… “I don’t want to change anything,” he BAMFs to you, standing not even a foot away. “Y/n, nothing will change if you don’t want it to…” he assures as he takes a half step forward.

Now you’re only a few inches apart. It felt like every inch was just another painful reminder of the barrier you may be breaking. You can only hold yourself in your arms “Kurt…” you mumble “If you want what I want, then-“ “Then what Liebling? Tell me…” a hand ghosts and elbow. The room seems to get warmer.

“I-I want this, I do, but…” his gase faulters “Y/n… I-“ you swallow “Kurt… I don’t want this to be situational or… or fun… this is- I-“ you swallow your nerves and take a deep breath “It’s okay, It’s just me Y/n.”

“You say that like it’s supposed to assure me..” you chuckle while he smiles sheepishly. “We don’t have to talk about the implications or… whatever we want this to be if you don’t think you can. Or if you don't want to right now.” He hesitates but ends up holding your arm. “That can be for tomorrow. But if we do that, I need to say- that nothing. Truly, nothing will change if you don’t want it to. We could stay friends,” a hint of uncertainty laces his words “Or… we could be more… I-i would like that but,” you look up to him. “Yeah?” He moves his gaze from his arm to your eyes. “Yes… yes, I truly would. If you want to, of course. I swear Y/n, do not settle for me-“

“Wait wait- hold the fuck on, rewind?! What do you mean ‘settle for you?’” You say in a more normal tone, finally meeting his gaze. “If anything you would be settling for me!" His eyes widen "Wie bitte?" he breaths, but that doesn't stop you. "And do not say that I would be settling for you when you are the most attractive X-Man!" He takes a nervous step back "What?" Shock gives way to laughter as Kurt keeps his eyes on yours, seeing your genuineness not as delirium or a potential joke. Rather for what it is, the truth.

You smile and hold his cheek “Kurt, I’m not stupid. I know what beautiful is and I'd be lucky to have even five minutes with the most gorgeous man this side of the universe.” He chuckles as a light shade of violet peaks through his fur. “Well… then I think we should head to bed, Ja?” You can only kiss his cheek, making his face heat up more.

This was going to be the best night of his life.

Sleepy 😴😴😴

[thestuffedalligator]

The fire in the circle of stones crackled in the night.

Then — because the battle was done, because they had been travelling together for months, and because this might be their last conversation — the fighter said, “Can I ask a personal question?”

The wizard stopped writing in her notebook mid-scribble. “Uh,” she said. And — possibly because the battle was done, and because they had travelled together for months, and because this might be their last conversation — she answered, “Possibly?”

“How do you do that?”

“How do I do what?”

“That. The thing you do when you talk without moving your lips.”

“…Oh.” The wizard closed her notebook.

“Because I know it’s not telepathy,” the fighter went on. “Telepathy goes straight to the brain. You don’t hear it with your ears.”

“Right.”

“And I didn’t want to question it, because we were busy and there were more important things going on.”

“Of course.”

“But—” The fighter waved her arms vaguely to sum up the past few months. “And now that everything’s kind of settled down, I just — I have to know how you do it.”

The wizard nodded.

“So if it’s not telepathy, is it some kind of — I don’t know, sound magic? Do you manipulate the vibrations in the air? Is it something like that?”

“No, no, nothing like that. It’s—”

The wizard pursed her lips. Then she reached up and pulled the corner of her hood open.

A tiny, black-feathered face poked out from between her curls.

“Uh,” said the fighter.

“This is Raspberry,” said the chickadee in the wizard’s voice. “She’s my — I guess you could call her my speaking-aid familiar.”

“Oh,” said the fighter. “Oh!” she said when her brain caught up with her. “Sorry, I had no idea.”

“It’s fine,” said the chickadee — said the wizard. “I try not to let people know.”

“Well — thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” The chickadee wriggled back into the shade of the wizard’s hood. The wizard turned back to her notebook.

The logs in the fire shifted with a soft, crunching noise. Sparks whorled up in a spiral.

“Sorry — can you cast spells if it’s technically someone else speaking for you?”

“It’s my words, isn’t it?” said the wizard.

[alotofpockets]

Finding comfort | Katie McCabe x Teen!Reader

Where you're always very timid, but open up to Katie

Woso masterlist | Words: 1k

-----

You had never been great at new environments. It always takes a long time before you are able to warm up to people you don’t know. So, being called up to Arsenal’s senior team and being surrounded by a whole new team definitely wasn’t an easy task.

The first few weeks had flown by, but you hadn’t really spoken to any of your teammates, besides giving short answers to their questions.No one seemed to mind that you were so timid, never pushing you. 

Behind your back they had spoken about it, not in a bad way, more so that they were worried that you weren’t comfortable here. They tried in different ways to make you feel more included, hoping you would start opening up more, but despite their best efforts not much changed. However, your teammates were patient with you, and you were grateful that they weren’t pushing.

“Good morning, are you ready for training?” Kim said as she sat down besides you in the locker room. You smiled timidly and nodded. Your team captain smiled and quietly got ready besides you. Around you the room was buzzing with the chatter of the rest of your teammates.

Training today was a gym session. You enjoyed gym days because for the biggest part of it, you were working individually. While yes football was a team sport, so that part was very important, the individual work made you feel more comfortable with the new environment.

You started with biking, as that was usually the equipment that everyone liked the least, so you would have the space to yourself. After a few minutes of cycling, Katie walked up. “Hey Kid, mind if I join you?” In response you nod. She sits down on the bike beside you and starts cycling with you.

After a few minutes of silence, Katie turns her head your way with a serious expression. “I’ve got an important question for you.” You turn to her, worried about what she might ask. Katie McCabe wasn’t known for being serious, so this must be something big or important.

“Do you think cereal is a soup?” You look at her in disbelief, definitely not having expected that question at all. “That’s your important question?” Your lips curl up slightly. “Yes, I need to know where you stand on the matter.” She says just as seriously as she started.

This time your smile breaks out and you start laughing. Katie smiles proudly before she joins in on your laughter. “So,” She says when the laughter dies down. “Is it soup?” You shake your head. “Definitely not and you can’t convince me otherwise.”

Katie gasped, her face filled with shock. “Not soup? Unbelievable. I thought you had better judgement, Kid.” You felt the walls you had up crumble bit by bit every time she joked around. 

The sound of your laughter caught the attention of a few of your teammates in the gym. They looked at the intersection between you and Katie with smiles on their faces. Who would have thought that Katie would’ve been the one to get you to open up more?

“I will let you off the hook this time. Everyone is allowed one wrong opinion, and you have just used yours.” You shake your head with a chuckle. “Good to know.”

The two of you continued chatting throughout your bike session. The team occasionally looks over, happy to see that you are feeling more at home. Wondering what kind of magic Katie used to get through to you. 

“Do you maybe want to join me and toss the ball around?” Katie is quick to say yes, happy that you want to continue opening up to her. “Right behind you.” She says as she gets stopped by Leah on the way.

“I’ve never seen her like this. How did you get her to open up?” The blonde asks full of wonder. Katie shrugs, “I told you that I am funnier than the rest of you.” She walks off proudly, leaving Leah standing there dumbfounded.  

You had picked out the weight that you wanted to use right as Katie walked up. “Alright, show me what you got, Kid.” She stood a few steps in front of you and got ready to catch the ball. You held it at chest height as you squatted down and in your movement up, you threw the ball her way. She did the same movement before tossing the ball your way again.

Just like on bikes, the two of you were chatting. It seemed like you were getting really comfortable with Katie, and there was just one thought on the older players' mind. “Why me?” She asked out loud before thinking.

“I eh, I mean you’re opening up to me and I was wondering what made you do so with me?” She threw the ball back your way. You catch it with ease and as you squat down you answer her question. 

“You just made me feel safe.” You toss the ball back but Katie is so caught by surprise with your answer that it just falls to the ground in front of her. “I win.” You say with a proud smirk.

“Yeah yeah, well done, Kid.” Katie tries to shrug off the loss, but ultimately she’s feeling very good, because she had created a safe space for you without even realising it. Growing up with younger siblings had unintentionally prepared her for youngsters joining the team.

“I want a revance on this next training.” You shake her reached out hand. “Deal, but don’t be upset if I beat you again.” Laughter erupts in the room. Your cheeks turn a bright red when you realise everyone was looking at you. 

Katie notices and puts her arm around your shoulder. “Get used to it Kid, that humour will get you far with these girls.”

-----

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[cevansbrat0007]

I saw this and thought of Ari and his Bird right away 😂 Now how would he react? 😌

Dinner is Served...

Summary: You surprise Ari with his favorite meal: You.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Implied Smut, An Appearance from Bucky Barnes, Ari Being A Menace, Brat!Reader, Brief Discussions of Body Image, High Heels, Naked Fun in the Kitchen, Manhandling, Clothed Male Nude Female (CMNF), Pussy Eating, Very Mild Chase Kink, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: I think someone actually asked me this a while ago. Maybe. I vaguely remember my answer. However, instead of rehashing that, this is how I think that would go - with a twist! Part of my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

“I sent you the files this morning, Buck.” Ari winces as he shoulders his way into your house from the garage. “It’s not my fault you don’t know how to open ‘em.”

“Just resend them in a different format.” His friend and business partner responds, sounding frustrated. 

“Why don’t you just give-in and ask Pixie to help you already?”

“Because she’s been giving me the silent treatment since Tuesday. Why would I want to risk breaking the streak?” 

Rolling his eyes, he drops his bag by the door – only to be surprised when he spots a pair of your panties laying innocently on the floor. Upon closer inspection, he realizes that it’s actually one of his favorites. It was part of a set he’d bought you just last month. 

“What’d you do, Barnes?”

“Uh…” A heavy sigh can be heard coming from the other side of the phone. “I accidentally broke her fancy little coffee maker.”

“Wow.” He responds, disapproval evident in his tone.  

“Hey! I just said it was an accident. She said she had a bad night and so I tried to make her one of those latte…macchiato…things she likes. And then I broke it.”   

“Make it right, Buck.” After toeing off his boots Ari begins making his way towards the kitchen, following the sound of music in the air. He frowns when he spies your blouse in the middle of the hallway. Closely followed by a pair of black leggings. 

“How?” God, his buddy could be so goddamned obtuse sometimes.

“Fucking apologize. And then buy her another one – a better one.” 

“Ugh!” The former soldier whines. “I wouldn’t even know where to start looking for a replacement. How about I–?”

Wait. WAIT. Was that your bra? Just what the fuck was up with this strange trail of clothes?

“Buck, you’re a grown man. And google is your friend.” Ari snaps as he picks up your fallen undergarment, his confusion growing with each passing second. “Restore peace to the land before that woman feels compelled to drop a nuke.” With that he ends the call, now ready to solve whatever mystery he’s just stumbled upon. 

But what it’s he sees when he rounds the corner that has him stopping dead in his tracks.

“Well, shit.” His mouth goes dry as he watches your hips sway to the music pumping out of the speaker. 

A low whistle of appreciation has you glancing over your shoulder. 

If you were being honest, you’d known he was home the moment you’d heard your garage door open. Which was also why your bathrobe was now hastily balled up in your pantry. 

“Welcome home!” You chirp, not missing the way your man’s eyes darken as they drink you in. “Did you have a good day?”

“What’s all this?” Ari’s already deep voice dips an octave as he holds up your previously abandoned bra, dangling it from his finger. But you know he’s not mad. This question is coming from a man who clearly likes what he sees.

Which just so happens to be you. Happily cooking in your kitchen. Wearing nothing but a little makeup and a pair of red heels. Oh, and oven mitts. Can’t forget those.

You’d come across this scenario while aimlessly scrolling on Instagram. And since you were growing more comfortable with the body you saw in the mirror these days, you figured that it might be worth trying your luck. If only to see your man’s reaction.

“Oops!” You gasp, trying your best to look apologetic. “I just haven’t had a chance to clean up yet. I’m sorry.”

“Baby…” Ari drags a stunned hand over his jaw. “That’s not even – ah fuck. Cleanin’ up is the absolute last thing on my mind right now.” Dropping the undergarment on a nearby table, he begins making his way to you – only to come up short once again when he catches sight of your heels. 

“What? I’m just tryin’ to break ‘em in. That’s all.”

“Fuck meee.” He groans under his breath, his eyes going wide at the sight of your latest surprise. 

“Hold that thought, sugar.” With a wink, you turn back towards the stove before bending over to retrieve tonight’s dessert from the oven. You’re forced to bite the inside of your cheek when you hear your bounty hunter’s sudden intake of breath at the sight of your bare ass. 

“There we go.” You hum, playfully fanning yourself with a checkered mitt. “Hope you like homemade cinnamon rolls with whipped cream cheese frosting." Tendrils of feminine pride unfurls in your belly when you notice Ari’s impressive hard-on tenting his jeans. "They’re the perfect after-dinner treat.”

“That’s–I’m not…” He cuts himself off, surprising you both with his inability to speak. “We–that ain’t the kinda treat I’m hungry for, little Bird.”

“Hm.” You nod as you stretch your arms above your head. Giving into temptation, you rise up on your toes before giving a little shimmy, calling attention to your breasts. “No problem. What’s the point of talkin’ about dessert when we haven’t even discussed the main course?”

“Huh?” Ari clears his throat, his rapt gaze now focused on your pouting nipples. 

“Tonight we’re having roasted potatoes –” 

“I don’t give a good-damn about no roasted potatoes, woman!” The bounty hunter rumbles, cutting you off before you can finish telling him your menu. “You don’t need to cook nothin’ else. I already know what I’m hungry for.” He takes a decisive step in your direction. “It’s just a matter of where I’m eatin’.”

“But you don’t even know what we’re havin’ yet!” Comes your incredulous laugh as you bat away his eager hands. 

“This right here.” He growls, broadly gesturing at your naked body. “All of this. That’s what I want.” Without warning, he grabs the edge of his t-shirt with both hands before yanking it over his head, revealing his muscled chest. “I'm fuckin' starvin'.”

“But I’m not on the menu!” You shriek, throwing a dish towel at him the next time he gets too close. The next thing you know, this man is now chasing you around your own kitchen, his long legs quickly eating up the space between you. 

Fuck it was hard to run in heels! 

“Now I don’t mind where I dine, darlin’.” Your man purrs, his already sexy voice pitched to arouse. “We can take it to the bedroom. The living room…”

“Beast!” You burst into a fit of giggles as you attempt to fend him off with the help of a chair. “Need I remind you that we are in the kitchen?”

Now that makes him pause. But only for a second. 

“It ain’t the first time I’ve had you in here.” The chair you’ve been holding is gently ripped from your grasp. “Pretty sure I’ve devoured that pussy in every room of this house.” You watch in defeat as he sends your last little bit of protection skidding across the floor. “Did you forget how wet you got the last time I splayed you out on this-here table? Because I haven’t.”

One rough, slightly calloused hand grips the back of your neck – drawing you closer. 

“Remember how I made you hold yourself open for me?” His lips ghost over yours – the sharp nip of his teeth causing your heart to beat erratically in your chest. “Remember the way your thighs shook every time you gushed around me?” He moans softly, the erotic sound going straight to your dripping cunt. 

“I–If you don’t want the potatoes, we’re also having…um…” You can’t help but whimper when he abandons your throat in favor of grabbing a hearty handful of your ass. “Herb roasted chicken…”

“I get so hard whenever I think about the way you drenched my fuckin’ beard, baby.” Ari gives you a playful squeeze before lifting you by your hips and depositing you on the table as if you weigh nothing. “My good girl always makes such a mess for me. Don’t you?” 

“Could I perhaps interest you in some honey glazed carrots?” However, your weak attempt at redirection is completely ignored.

A heady thrum of excitement courses through you when you feel your back connect with the cool, wooden surface. And then Ari’s hands come to rest on your knees, gently prying them apart, baring your most intimate flesh. 

“Look at you.” He rasps, tenderly stroking your slick folds. “Fuckin’ soaked already. And here we are just gettin’ started.” He parts you with thick fingers before leaning down to press a kiss to your puffy clit, making your hips buck. 

“Yeah,” he continues. “This is the only honey I give a fuck about tonight.” Gripping your ankle, he drapes your leg over one broad shoulder, opening you up to him even more. And then he reaches for the remote to your speaker, turning up the volume of the music that had since become little better than background noise. 

“Don’t want any interruptions while I enjoy my meal. Especially since you spent so much time preparin’ it.” Ari drags your body towards the edge of the table before taking a seat in a chair and placing a napkin across his lap. “And don’t worry about me needing any silverware, sweet Bird…” He murmurs as his mouth descends upon your vulnerable, quivering pussy.

“I don't mind gettin' my hands dirty.”

END

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[perdidosbucky-yyo]

This was so good!!

“Bah, if Logan wanted to keep me out of his head, he would. Stubborn man.” He tsks softly to himself and shakes his head. “But, no my dear, he can be quite loud if you know how to listen.”

The way this makes so much sense to me

“Did it hurt?”

“No.”

You blink slowly, your sleep-laden mind struggling to process his answer. “Not even a little?” Your voice is barely audible as you nestle closer into the warmth of his chest.

This was so intimate and cute!! I love it 😩

“No phone call or text letting me know you’re not coming home and then you waltz in after midnight soaked in blood and covered in wounds.” Unshed tears burn in your eyes but you will yourself not to cry.

I FELT THIS😭 I wanted to hug her

You wonder how long it’s truly been since he’s felt like this, unburdened by the pain and suffering of his own body. Your heart aches for him as you slowly begin to wash him, rubbing soft circles over the scarred flesh of his back, rinsing away the blood dried to his skin.

“Big man in a little tub? Yeah, I do,” you reply with a smile. “Just relax, Logan. This’ll be our secret.”

Bestie you just wrote the cutest reader eveeeeer

❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹 Stop my heart is aching rn, this is why I love old man Logan, I just wanna take care of him.

“What do you like?” The question lands in the sliver of space between you, your strokes still light, teasing.

“Firmer, more ah—” He breaks off as you tighten your grip on the upstroke. “Fuck, yes, like that, sweetheart.”

No words just-

For a moment, neither of you speaks, then Logan lifts his head, his hazel eyes soft as they meet yours. “You walked into my life and I knew—I knew—you would ruin me.”

I just love this concept so much, like they love each other so much they're ruined not just for other people but even by themselves

Logan’s eyes widen as he grabs for your wrist. “No. You’ll hurt yourself.”

“I don’t care!” you shout. “I love you, dammit, and I’m not just going to sit here and watch you die!”

Fantastic gimme 14 of them

“Me?” Logan’s voice is low, disbelieving as his hand cradles the back of your head as if you might shatter. “You’re the one—why the fuck would you do that? You could’ve—dammit, you—”

The way he can't even speak bc he's so angry and grateful and in shock, I live for this trope

his low growls of approval vibrating through you as he works you over with an enthusiasm that proves to you this is about more than just pleasure—he’s claiming you, showing you just how much you mean to him. Making you his.

😩💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

He lifts his head to look up at you, his gaze soft yet still simmering with hunger. “I do, you know,” he murmurs. His fingers brush idly against your skin. “Love you.”

He buries his face in your neck, beard scraping against your skin as he sighs. “Didn’t like wakin’ up with you not there,” he breathes into your hair, his voice so low you almost don’t hear him.

THIS MOMENT RIGHT HERE, the vulnerability, the sincerity 😩 this might be my favorite part of the fic

Now this is my favorite part of the fic, I literally shivered imagining this.

Take My Love and Wear It

SYNOPSIS: Taking care of Charles has its own special challenges, but you didn’t expect the hardest one to be the man who hired you. Distant, gruff and rough around the edges, Logan still manages to worm his way under your skin. But you’ve worked your way under his, too. 

PAIRING: Old Man Logan x fem!reader

WC: 10.8k 

WARNINGS: smut 18+; mdni; angst; swearing; non-explicit mentions of wounds, blood and use of stitches; extreme physical pain; Charles is a lovable, meddling little shit; fluff sprinkled in for good measure; Logan in a tub (if I had a nickel for every time I bathed him, I’d have two nickels—which isn’t a lot, but its weird it happened twice, right); touch-starved Logan; handjobs; shower sex; fingering; dirty talk; oral (f receiving); sex with feelings; unprotected p in v; creampie

A/N: There’s something special about Old Man Logan, isn’t there? Old and grumpy and desperately in need of some love and affection. I know the Charles caregiver story has been done before, but I couldn’t get this idea out of my head. And then Charles starting talking in my head and well...it blossomed into this. As always, thank you to @joelsgoldrush for allowing me to send her snippets of this as I went along and offering her love, support and suggestions. I hope you enjoy this and any likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

You stare down at the remnants of yesterday’s cold and congealed dinner and sigh. Scraping the food into the trash, you resist the urge to pack everything you have and leave. 

One month. 

One month of helping Charles—making his meals, washing his clothes, giving him his meds, making sure he doesn’t hurt himself (or others), assisting with daily tasks—and Logan still regards you as a nuisance, like a gnat needing to be swatted away. 

At best, he ignores you, moving around the house as if you don’t exist. 

And at worst, he treats you with barely concealed contempt, his scowl deepening the lines of his face whenever he’s around you. As if you’re invading his space uninvited even though he’s the one that sought out help. 

You grip the edge of the sink, staring down into the porcelain basin as if it holds some hidden answers. Every day you’ve tried to break through walls Logan’s built around himself, held onto Charles’ promise that eventually he’ll soften, just give him time, but he only seems to have grown more hostile. And you’ve done nothing to incur his ire besides watching him come home every day battered and bruised, his very bones weary with exhaustion, and offering your assistance.

Part of you is angry—angry that you care so much when your main focus is supposed to be Charles. Angry that despite all his efforts to come across unapproachable and cold, Logan’s worked himself under your skin and takes a little piece of you with him whenever he leaves. 

Angry that somehow he’s stolen a piece of your heart. 

You hear shuffling behind you and turn to find Logan entering the kitchen, fingers fastening the last buttons on his dress shirt. “What?” he asks gruffly and for a moment you wonder if he can read your thoughts.

You straighten and meet his gaze head on, swallowing down your nervousness. “How much longer are we going to keep doing this, Logan?”

“Doing what?”

“This,” you say, gesturing between you. “You walking around here like I’m some stain upon your life, acting like I’m a problem when all I’ve ever done is try and help.” Your voice is steadier than you feel. “You asked for me to be here, Logan. It’s not like I barged in here without permission.”

Logan holds your gaze, his jaw tight, and for a moment you think he’s going to grab his keys and leave, head off into the night and drive until sunrise. His eyes soften for just a moment, something like regret crossing his features. 

“I know why you’re here. And I do…appreciate it,” he says, his words coming out low and rough. As if the words taste foreign in his mouth. 

“Wouldn’t kill you to show it,” you challenge.

You’re waiting for him to lash out and instead he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, I’m not good at this.”

“I’m not asking you to bow at my feet,” you say, hoping to ease some of the tension in the air. “Although, I wouldn’t be mad about it.” You think you see the briefest hint of a smile flicker across his face. “I just want us to be able to live in the same space. I’m here to help, Logan. Let me.”

“You have no idea how hard this life is.”

A rueful smile tugs at your lips. “I understand more than you think I do.”

Logan’s gaze sharpens, inquisitive as he searches your face, as if he’s trying to decipher the meaning behind your words. He rubs a hand across his face, scratching lightly as his beard. “I’ve gotta couple jobs tonight. Maybe more,” he finally says, changing the conversation. “Should be back before sunrise.”

You nod, his switch in topic not lost on you, but you don’t push him. “Alright,” you say softly. “Just—just take it easy, okay?”

He glances down at you, relief softening his gaze and you know a part of him is grateful you didn’t push further. 

Grabbing his keys, Logan heads towards the door but pauses just before he’s about to leave. He turns to look back over his shoulder. “Thanks,” he murmurs, the word awkward on his lips. 

You give him a small nod of encouragement as he slips out the door. He may not be ready to full open up, but you feel as if he extended a tiny olive branch tonight, cracked open the door just enough to let you peek in.

+++

Over the following weeks, Logan’s a little less avoidant. He doesn’t go out of his way to make conversation—you didn’t expect him to—but he at least as acknowledges your presence. Small nods and murmured goodbyes when he leaves and sleepy hellos when he returns. It’s not much, but you’ll take it. 

You’re cleaning the last of the dishes from dinner, Charles safely settled in front of the TV watching an old movie when Logan comes home. He’s earlier than you anticipated, but exhaustion lines his face nonetheless. You expect him to slip away quietly, but he pauses instead, lingering in the doorway. 

“Smells good,” he says softly, nodding towards the pan of half eaten lasagna still sitting on the counter. 

Surprised, you turn around to face him. You brush the hair from your face and say, “Sit. I’ll make you up some.” 

Logan hesitates and for a moment you think he’s about to decline, but then he nods, his shoulders dropping slightly as he sits down at the table. You fix him up a plate, setting it down in front of him with a bottle of beer as you slide into the chair across from him.  

He tucks quietly into the food, his fork scraping against his plate as he eats, pausing only to wash it down with a few swigs of beer. You watch him, a strange satisfaction tugging at you at the sight of him actually sitting down, enjoying a meal with you, even if it is in silence. 

“Long day?” you ask quietly, gesturing towards his bruised knuckles.

He flexes the fingers on his free hand before tucking them under the table. “Nothin’ I can’t handle,” he mutters, taking another bite of lasagna. “They’ll be gone in a day or two.”

You know not that long ago an injury like that wouldn’t have even marred his skin. Now, the simplest of wounds can take days to heal and it’s not the appearance of his skin that bothers you, but the newfound ache he experiences, the heaviness of constant pain.

You want to help him, ease his discomfort, like you know you could. But you know he’s not ready for that. Not yet.

“You’re good with Charles,” Logan says then, his gaze steady on his plate. “He seems calmer around you.”

Logan’s admission is so unexpected, you find yourself staring at him in disbelief. At your silence, his eyes flicker up to yours and you see more than simple acknowledgement in his expression. It’s subtle, but it’s there, a current of something more, something you’re not quite sure how to address.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your voice softer than you intended. “Charles—he means a lot to me.” You pause briefly, but something compels you to continue. “You both do.”

His gaze is focused on you and you don’t miss the flicker of surprise that breaks through his usual stoic expression. Clearing his throat, he looks down, pushing around the last bit of lasagna on his plate and then after a moment, he sets his fork down and leans back in his chair. “You mean a lot to him, too,” Logan finally says and you wonder if he’s talking about more than just Charles.

From the living room you hear Charles call for you, his voice soft but insistent. The moment between you still crackles as you stand from the table and as you begin to walk away, Logan reaches for your hand. His fingers are warm and rough against your skin and you’re barely able to suppress your shiver. 

“Thank you,” Logan says, his voice surprisingly soft. 

His grip against your skin is gentle, a stark contrast to all his roughness and you can feel the weight of his unspoken words curling around you. Charles calls again, his voice breaking through the moment, but Logan’s hand lingers just a beat longer before he lets go, fingers trailing along your skin. 

+++

“He likes you, you know.”

You glance up from shaving Charles’ face and find him staring at you, a mischievous glint in his eye. You give a soft hum. “Did he tell you that or did you read his mind?”

Charles scoffs and waves his hand dismissively. “What’s the difference, dear?” 

You chuckle, shaking your head as you rinse the razor. “With Logan I’m pretty sure there’s a big difference.”

“Bah, if Logan wanted to keep me out of his head, he would. Stubborn man.” He tsks softly to himself and shakes his head. “But, no my dear, he can be quite loud if you know how to listen.”

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a playful look. “Loud, huh? And what exactly is that brain of his telling you?”

Charles gives you a knowing smile. “Oh, just little things,” he says casually with a wave of his hand, but you can tell by the look on his face that he’s holding back. “He notices you—what you do for me, this place, for him. He may not realize it himself, but his thoughts linger on you more often than he’d like.”

A flicker of hope sparks in your chest and despite yourself, you feel a blush creeping into your cheeks. “Logan doesn’t strike me as the sentimental type.”

“Logan has spent so much of his life running,” Charles continues, his tone and expression growing more thoughtful. “The loss he’s experienced has led him to believe it’s better to be alone than form meaningful connections with people. But you’ve somehow become something of a home for him. And he doesn’t quite know what to make of that.”

Your heart skips a beat as you take in his words. The idea of being a home for Logan, a comfort, feels surreal, and yet...there’s a part of you that dares to hope what Charles is saying is true. That this isn’t some fictional truth his brain has concocted, a product of his disease riddled mind. 

“Home.” You repeat the word softly to yourself, testing the word on your own tongue as if it might shatter into pieces.

Charles nods, his hand reaching for yours, his gaze warm and knowing. “Yes, home. He feels it, deep down, in a way that’s unfamiliar and frightening for him.”

You glance down at your hand in Charles’ grasp, his touch grounding you as his words settle over you. 

“Logan’s spent so long hiding from himself,” Charles continues. “I think he’s convinced himself he doesn’t deserve that kind of peace.”

“And you think I can give him that peace?” you ask quietly, your eyes flicking back up to Charles’ face.

He smiles knowingly and gives your hand a squeeze. “You already have, dear.”

+++

“Want some help?”

You turn to find Logan standing in the entrance of the kitchen, hands tucked into his pockets.

It’s a rare night—one where Logan’s chosen to stay home, taking a night off from the almost endless driving he does. He’s dressed down, well worn jeans and a button-up flannel, and for once you actually think he looks comfortable.

You smile, surprised, but happy to see him there. “Sure, the company would be nice,” you reply as he comes to stand next to you. “Want to wash and dice the potatoes?”

Logan nods and rolls up his sleeves before reaching for the bowl of potatoes you had set aside earlier. You watch him for a moment as he settles into the task with a quiet focus. 

“Smells good,” he comments, gesturing towards the oven. “What’re we having?”

“Charles has been asking for beef tenderloin for weeks now, so I’m finally indulging him.” You finish trimming the last of the green beans and toss them into the bowl beside you. “You know, if you have any favorite meals you’d like me to make, you can tell me.”

Logan pauses and glances at you as he shuts off the tap. He clears his throat and says, “You already are.”

You blink in surprise as Logan’s words sink in and then the realization dawns on you. A soft smile spreads across your face as you piece together the extent of Charles’ meddling. You can’t find it in you to be annoyed and only feel a mix of amusement and fondness towards the old man as you chuckle softly to yourself.

“What’s so funny?” Logan asks, raising his eyebrow as he catches your expression.

“Oh, nothing,” you say, waving him off with a smile. 

Logan doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t pry as he picks up the knife and begins to deftly dice the potatoes. You watch him for a moment, captivated by the simple domesticity of the task. It’s in direct contrast to the man you’ve seen numerous times before, brooding and gruff, brimming with an almost untamed violence. 

It suits him, you think, this quieter version of himself.

You both finish the prep with relative ease. He helps you set the table as the rest of the food cooks, plates clinking softly as he sets them down. You busy yourself with finishing the green beans in a garlic butter as you wait for for the tenderloin to rest enough to carve into. 

“Ah, my dear, this smells wonderful,” Charles announces as he rolls into the kitchen, a warm smile on his face. “And you managed to pull Logan out of his room. What a treat.”

Logan snorts in response, giving Charles a pointed glare.

“I dare say it’s because the company has improved much as of late,” Charles says, his eyes twinkling in amusement as he glances between the both of you. “We all know he’s not out here for my benefit.”

You laugh as you bring the dishes to the table, noting the faintest of blushes creeping along Logan’s cheeks. “I’ll take that as a compliment, Charles.”

“As you should, dear. Your personality is quite sparkling.” He looks over towards Logan. “Isn’t it, Logan?”

Logan’s eyes land on you as he answers, “Yes. Yes, it is.”

Dinner begins quietly, the three of you settling into easy conversation as the first few bites are consumed. Both Charles and Logan hum in delight and a warmth blooms within you watching them both. This—this is the simplicity you’ve been craving with Logan.

As the meal continues, Charles launches into his usual repertoire of stories, those of the school and his students, his words brimming with nostalgia and pride as he talks. Logan sits back in his chair, arms crossed as he listens to him speak, shaking his head fondly at some of the memories.

“You know,” Charles begins, setting his fork down with an air of mischief, “I don’t think I ever told you how I met Logan, have I?”

Logan’s head snaps up. “Don’t, Chuck.”

But Charles is already smiling at you, ignoring Logan’s warning. “It’s a good story, dear. See, Logan had quite the career as an underground cage fighter.”

You lift your brows in surprise and you glance over at Logan, who’s thoroughly unamused by Charles’ choice of topic. “Cage fighting, huh?” you ask, unable to suppress your curiosity. 

Logan shifts uncomfortably in his seat, stabbing at his potatoes with a little more force than necessary. “It wasn’t a career,” he mutters. “Just a distraction. Way to get by.”

“Mmm, yes, perhaps,” Charles chuckles, clearly enjoying himself. “Regardless of the reason, it lead you to this exact moment. Didn’t it, Logan?”

Logan narrows his eyes at Charles, though the glare is only half-hearted. “You make it sound like all it all had some grand purpose.”

“Did it not?” Charles says gently, his tone shifting into something more serious. “Kept you alive, for one. But more than that, it brought you to us. To me.” He pauses for a moment, his eyes darting towards you. “To her.”

The words hang in the air and you glance over at Logan, whose expression softens just slightly. Without thinking, you reach across the table and give his forearm a gentle squeeze. His eyes meet yours, a flicker of a smile tugging at his lips.

Charles watches the exchange with quiet satisfaction before clearing his throat. “Well, I believe my work here is done,” he announces, wheeling himself back from he table. “Logan, fancy a game of chess? I haven’t made a player out of her yet.”

You laugh to yourself as Logan follows Charles into the living room. After clearing the kitchen from dinner and loading the last of the dishes into the dishwasher, you join them both in the living room. Tucking yourself into the couch, you read while the two of them play, the clinking of wooden chess pieces and the occasional dry quip from Charles filling the room.

From your spot on the couch, you glance up from your book every now and then to watch them. Logan’s brow furrows in concentration, while Charles’ face is more relaxed as they play. You smile to yourself, wondering how often they played like this in the past, when times were simpler.

You’re not sure when you fell asleep or how long you’ve been out, but you’re jostled awake as two large, warm arms wrap around you, holding you close as you’re lifted off the couch. Logan’s familiar scent—cigar smoke and pine—fill your nose and you blink up to find him walking you down the hall towards your room.

“Logan?” you mumble, voice thick with sleep. “D’you really cage fight?”

Logan chuckles softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. “I really did.”

“Did it hurt?”

“No.”

You blink slowly, your sleep-laden mind struggling to process his answer. “Not even a little?” Your voice is barely audible as you nestle closer into the warmth of his chest.

“Not in the way you think,” he answers, nudging open the door to your room with his foot.

You’re too drowsy to ask what he means and instead you hum softly, a noncommittal sound that Logan feels more than hears. Lowering you onto the bed, he moves with a gentleness you’ve never felt from him before. He brushes a strand of hair from your face and pulls the blanket over you before he turns to leave.

Your limbs are heavy, eyes barely open, but you call out softly—“Logan?”

He looks back towards you. “Yeah?”

“I’m glad Charles found you,” you murmur, closing your eyes.

Logan doesn’t answer, but you swear you feel the lightest of kisses against the top of your head before he leaves.

+++

It’s deep into the night when you hear the front door finally open. Your heart flutters against your ribs as you swing out of bed, unsure of what condition you’ll find him in. He was expected back two days ago, those extra hours away feeling like an unfathomable eternity. 

You find him sitting at the kitchen table, dress shirt hanging off one shoulder, the rest of his clothes rumpled and bloodied. A large gash oozes from his shoulder and you can’t stop the gasp that falls from your lips. 

Logan looks up at you, eyes narrowed and lined with exhaustion. “Don’t look at me like that,” he grunts, tugging off the rest of his shirt. 

“How else am I supposed to look at you?” you ask, taking a tentative step forward. “No phone call or text letting me know you’re not coming home and then you waltz in after midnight soaked in blood and covered in wounds.” Unshed tears burn in your eyes but you will yourself not to cry. 

“Didn’t ask you to care about me,” he bites back, but his tone is more weary than argumentative. 

“Oh, fuck you, Logan,” you snip, but your tone lacks venom.

He ignores you, pushing up from the chair with a heavy groan and limps over towards the cabinets. He shuffles through one of them, pulling out the makeshift sewing kit before sitting back down. You watch as he attempts to thread the needle, growing increasingly frustrated when he keeps missing. 

Shoving down your own frustration, you pull up a chair next to him and reach for the needle and thread. He pulls his hands away from you, turning in the chair to keep you away. You chase after his movements, finally grabbing his wrists and removing the supplies from his grasp.

“I don’t need your help,” he growls. 

You sigh, tired of this same argument, this same endless loop every time he comes home injured. “Goddamit, Logan, just let me help you.”

He drags his gaze up to yours, eyes tracing the lines of your face. His chest still heaves with heavy breaths, but you can see the anger bleed from him. He nods once, turning just enough so that you have access to his wound. Threading the needle, you place a gentle hand on his shoulder, ignoring the flinch he gives at your touch. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” you whisper. 

Logan huffs. “It’s a needle, darlin’. It’s not gonna feel nice.”

You try to ignore the flip your heart does at his use of the word darling. Despite his earlier gruffness and proclivity to push you away, Logan has softened to you over the last couple of months. Since that first dinner you shared, he’s joined you and Charles more often. Or if he comes home late, sought out the leftovers you’ve kept for him. He’s engaged in conversation, offering small pieces of himself, pieces that you’ve cradled close and nurtured. 

But there’s a tension between you, thick and heavy in the air, and you wonder if he feels it too. Feels that same undeniable pull you’ve always felt in his presence. You’d like to think so, otherwise you were doomed to love him silently, your feelings for him bound in the quiet of your mind.

“Just trust me,” you say. 

Slowly, you release your power, warmth spreading from your fingertips, easing his pain and discomfort as you begin to stitch him up. You try to ignore the heavy press of his gaze on your face and you can almost hear his unspoken thoughts, his words still stuck on his tongue.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, his shoulder relaxing as you continue to work.

You glance up at him then, finding his expression softer than you’ve seen it. “A mutant is a dangerous thing to be, Logan,” you answer, your voice soft. “Few people know what I can do. Those I trust.”

For a long moment, Logan just looks at you, his eyes unreadable. Then, a rough, tired sigh falls from his lips. “You coulda told me.”

You take a steadying breath, his words lingering in the space between you. “Maybe,” you say, your fingers brushing against his skin as you continue to stitch. “But you don’t make it easy to talk to you.”

Logan lets out a low huff. “No. I guess I don’t, do I?”

You finish the last stitch, securing the knot. Your fingers linger a touch long than necessary, the warmth of his skin a comfort you’re loathe to lose just yet. Slowly, you lift your gaze to his and you feel your heart beat solidly against your ribs as he looks back at you like he’s seeing something there he hadn’t allowed himself to before. 

Logan’s voice is low when he finally speaks. “Why you keep stickin’ around? Watchin’ me come home time after time covered in blood?”

“Because you deserve it.” The words tumble from your mouth before you can stop them. “Even if you don’t see that.”

He doesn’t respond, not right away, as he continues to watch you, his eyes tracing the lines of your face. Then he reaches up for you, fingers curling around your wrist, his skin warm and rough against yours. He holds you there as if grounding himself in your presence, his thumb drawing random patterns against your skin. The gesture is simple, but vulnerable and open in a way he rarely shows.

“I’m no good for you,” he murmurs, glancing down at where he’s touching you. “For anybody.”

“How ‘bout you let me be the judge of that?” you answer, your voice steady. “You’re more than you think you are.”

Logan clenches his jaw, a flicker of disbelief crossing his features, and you know deep below the surface he’s waging a war against himself, one he’s been fighting for far too long. His thumb stills on your wrist, his grip loosening slightly, but not letting go. 

Placing your hand over his, you give him a soft smile. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.”

+++

You’re surprised that he doesn’t argue, doesn’t try to brush you off or push you away as you gently nudge him towards the bathroom. He still gives you a dubious glance as he looks down at the tub, but you just ignore it, moving past him to run the tap.

You give him privacy to undress and get settled before you reenter the bathroom. The sight of him, as large as he his with his knees pulled up to his chest, makes you laugh, garnishing a terse look from him.

“You find this amusing?”

“Big man in a little tub? Yeah, I do,” you reply with a smile. “Just relax, Logan. This’ll be our secret.”

He huffs, but does seem to visibly relax, resting his arms over his knees. You kneel down in front of him, resting one hand gently against his forearm as your other reaches for the washcloth. You can feel the tension release from his muscles as your power floods through him and he breathes out a soft, “Oh,” as all the pain and discomfort is eased from his body.

You wonder how long it’s truly been since he’s felt like this, unburdened by the pain and suffering of his own body. Your heart aches for him as you slowly begin to wash him, rubbing soft circles over the scarred flesh of his back, rinsing away the blood dried to his skin. 

Even battered and marred as he is, you still find him beautiful—you always have. When you first started working with him all those months ago, you felt that pang of attraction when you met him, you’d have been blind not to. Ruggedly handsome, so strong and sure of himself. But you know that wasn’t all that drew you to him. Deep down, below all the tough, seemingly impenetrable exterior, you saw the man he truly was. Someone born of scars and rough edges, yet gentle. Someone who would selflessly put himself before others, even at his own expense. 

You let the cloth linger a moment longer against his skin before dipping it back into the water, watching as his blood rinses from the fabric. Squeezing the excess water out, you press it back against his collarbone, tracing the warm cloth along his neck and over his shoulders. Logan doesn’t move, his eyes half-closed, his expression relaxed in a way you’ve never seen before.

Something deep tugs at you as you realize how vulnerable he is right now, how trusting. He hides behind a gruff exterior, his true self guarded so carefully so that he doesn’t let people in, doesn’t open himself up to the hurt that trusting another person can bring. But maybe you’ve finally cracked through, broken down a little bit of that wall he surrounds himself with.

The warm water drips from his skin as you continue to wash him, letting your fingers trail gently along the newly cleaned lines of his arms. Logan shivers at your touch, but he doesn’t pull away. If anything, he seems to lean into it, his breathing deepening, muscles falling even more slack. 

“Feel nice?” you ask in a murmur, voice barely above a whisper.

He nods, finally glancing up at you through his half-lidded gaze. “’S very nice,” he replies, his voice rough.

“Good. You deserve it,” you say, repeating your sentiment from earlier.

You feel a flicker of warmth as his eyes meet yours and he simply nods. It takes everything in you to not smile too widely, to keep the moment gentle, but you take his acceptance to heart. 

Running the cloth down his ribs, you pause when you feel the misshapen knot of a bruise beneath your fingers and glancing down, you find a deep purple hue coloring his skin. Your eyes dart to his with worry, knowing that an injury like that will take him at least a week to heal, if not longer, in his weakened state. That with every breath he’ll feel the pain of his muscles pulling and the bruise spreading if you’re not touching him.

Dropping the washcloth in the water, you press your palm against his side and take in a deep breath to steady yourself. Then, a warmth spreads from your skin into his as you pull his injury from him, feeling his skin knit back together, feeling his abused muscles realign themselves under his skin. A dull, yet sharp ache, blooms along your ribs as you continue to pull his pain into yourself, erasing the injury from his body. With a final gasp, you draw back, your fingers now running along unmarred flesh knitted whole. 

Logan tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze as the back of his knuckles brush against your cheek. His eyes flicker to yours, holding your gaze, and for a moment, the room falls into a deep quiet.

That pull between you, the magnetic force that you’ve felt since the beginning, feels amplified now. You’re acutely aware of every inch of space between you—how small it is, how easy it would be to close it. How badly you want to close it. You swallow, feeling the tension coil in your belly as he continues to hold your gaze, unblinking, but more open and raw than he’s ever been before.

“What are you doing to me?” he asks.

Your breath catches in your throat at his question, voice rough and laced with something between wonder and disbelief. As if he can’t quite fathom what you’ve done for him—what you’ve given him so freely.

Logan’s eyes search yours, his fingers drifting from your cheek to trace along your jaw, lingering with a tenderness that belies the man he presents to the outside world. His gaze is steady and intimate, as if he’s trying to understand you in a way that goes beyond words. But you say nothing, your heart pounding too loudly in your ears to form a reply.

“You took it on yourself, my pain?”

You simply nod, distracted by the way Logan’s fingers continue to brush along the edge of your ear, tracing the lines of your face as if he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go. 

“Why?”

“Because I want to,” you whisper, unable to resist the pull of his hand against your skin, the warmth of his touch that you feel with every fiber of your being. “Because it’s the one thing I can do to help you.”

A beat of silence passes, the air thick and heavy with unspoken words. He exhales, shaky and deep, letting his hand slide to the back of your neck. The calloused pads of his fingers press gently against your skin, anchoring you in place and you can feel him pull you closer, his gaze dropping to your lips, his breath mingling with yours in the small, intimate space between you.

“I shouldn’t want this, want you,” he says, voice so low it’s almost a rumble. “But, fuck, I do.” 

His confession is raw, leaving him unguarded for the first time in a long time and before he can pull back, before he can throw those walls back up around himself, you close the gap, resting your forehead against his. You bring your hand up to touch his face, thumb brushing over his cheek as you breath him in, feeling the heat radiate between you. 

Logan’s hand slides further along your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he finally, gently, presses his lips to yours. His kiss isn’t demanding or rushed or filled with passion, but a lingering connection, the promise of something more. His lips are softer than you imagined, his touch more careful than you expected, as if he’s afraid he’ll break you. Slowly, his thumb traces circles against your cheek, steadying and soothing, pulling you closer. 

When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, eyes closed. His breath is warm against your skin. “I don’t wanna push you away anymore,” he murmurs.

“Good because I don’t want you to.”

Logan lets out a breath, a hint of a smile finally softening his features. 

Reluctantly, you pull away and pick the washcloth up again, intent on finishing what you started. The water turns to rust as you wash him of blood and grime, making sure you reach each cut, each bruise, each scar on his body that makes up the map of who he is. 

You turn off the tap and hand him a towel, averting your eyes as he stands, wrapping the towel low across his hips. Logan reaches for you, tugging on the collar of your shirt to pull you closer. You stumble a bit as he pulls you in, surprised by the insistence in his grip. Logan’s eyes meet yours, an intensity behind his gaze that makes your breath catch.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, hand slipping along your jaw, his thumb pressing against your bottom lip. 

You’re drawn forward as Logan’s lips find yours again, but this time there’s an urgency behind the kiss, a desperation and need he’s no longer trying to hide. He holds your face gently in his hands as he deepens the kiss, his nose pressing against yours, his beard scraping against your skin and you find yourself melting against him.

This is what you’ve been craving since you met him. Despite it all—the rage simmering just below his surface, the sharpness of his exterior, the sometimes shocking callousness of his words—you always knew there was a tenderness underneath, a softness that even his tortured past couldn’t erase. 

Logan’s hands drift from your face, trailing down your neck and tracing along the curve of your spine as he presses you closer until there’s no space between you. The dampness of his skin bleeds into your shirt and you gasp into his mouth when he shifts his hips just enough and you feel heat of his erection against your thigh.

He pulls away from your mouth long enough to husk against your lips, “I’m old, not dead.” His teeth nip lightly at your bottom lip. “I’ve gotta beautiful woman lettin’ me kiss her, what did you expect?”

Your fingers trail along the edge of the towel slung low across this hips and a thrill runs through you as you feel his abdominal muscles flutter beneath your touch. You peer up at him, noting the flush of his skin, the black of his eyes as you tug the fabric just enough to loosen it. “How long has it been since someone has touched you, Logan?” you ask, your breath warm in the space between you.

Logan’s hands urge your hips closer, seeking friction as he starts to slowly rut against your thigh. You hear him swallow as your fingers dip below the fabric, brushing along the damp hair at the base of his cock. 

“F—fuck,” he groans, guttural and low, his head dropping down to your shoulder. “Since before you.”

The weight of Logan’s confession presses into you and in that moment you want to give him everything. Wrap him in all the love you can muster, show him something other than pain and suffering. 

You move your hand from the towel, allowing the fabric to fall from his waist and pool forgotten on the floor. Logan’s breath catches as your fingers wrap around him fully, the heat and weight of his cock pressing against your palm. 

A ragged groan escapes his throat. “Christ,” he mutters, voice thick and vibrating against your skin. “You don’t gotta—”

“I want to,” you interrupt, slowly and deliberately dragging your hand along his length, tracing the vein along the underside of his cock with your fingertips.

Logan’s hips jerk involuntarily, seeking friction, chasing your hand, and you oblige, tightening your grip just enough to elicit another groan from him. 

“What do you like?” The question lands in the sliver of space between you, your strokes still light, teasing.

“Firmer, more ah—” He breaks off as you tighten your grip on the upstroke. “Fuck, yes, like that, sweetheart.”

A shiver runs down your spine as his hands find your waist, fingers clutching at you almost hard enough to bruise. His breaths are growing uneven, each exhale warm against your neck as he fights to maintain some semblance of control.

“You keep that up,” he rasps, lips grazing your ear, “and I’m not gonna last long.”

His admission sends a rush of pride through you and you tilt your head back to look at him, your thumb brushing over the sensitive head of his cock, spreading the wetness there. Logan’s eyes meet yours, dark and heavy-lidded, his expression raw and unguarded. You like him like this, such a large, imposing man boiled down to pure wanton need. 

“I don’t mind,” you reply, keeping your movements steady, your strokes firm yet gentle. You focus on the subtle shifts in his breathing, the way his fingers grip you tighter each time you find the right rhythm. “Just wanna make you feel good, Logan.”

He leans forward, capturing your lips into a kiss that’s both rough and messy, teeth nipping at your lip as his tongue licks into your mouth. He groans are muffled against your mouth as his hips begin to thrust in time with your strokes, his movements growing more erratic as he chases after his release. 

“Can’t believe—ah, fuck—can’t believe how good you’re makin’ me feel,” he growls against your lips.

You smile into his mouth, your free hand brushing along his hipbone as your strokes quicken. His whole body tenses, the muscles in his shoulders and arms flexing, his abdominal muscles taut as he teeters on the edge.

“Let go, Logan,” you say. “I’ve got you.”

With a strangled groan, he comes, his release spilling over your hand, hot and thick. His body shudders against yours as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. You hold him close as he continues to thrust lazily into your grip, your own movements slowing as you guide him through the aftershocks. 

For a moment, neither of you speaks, then Logan lifts his head, his hazel eyes soft as they meet yours. “You walked into my life and I knew—I knew—you would ruin me.”

You smile to yourself, unable to stop the thought that floats into your head—he’s ruined you as well. 

+++

The text comes in at a little over one AM—hurt.

You jump out of bed, adrenaline rushing through your veins as you slip into one of his discarded flannels and head out into the night. Pacing the driveway, your heart jumps into your throat at every passing headlight, your thumbnail almost bitten down to the quick as you wait for him.

The minutes bleed into eternity until you finally see the limo turn down the long drive and it takes all your willpower to not run and meet him halfway. You’re bouncing on your heels as he finally comes to a stop, the driver’s side door opening with a faint groan of steel. 

Your heart stutters in your chest as he emerges from the car, blood soaking through his shirt, dark and spreading, as he steps towards you on shaky legs. Logan’s face is pale in the moonlight, his breathing uneven and shallow and white-hot dread shoots up your spine as you see his arm hanging limp, two of his claws unsheathed and dripping blood.

“Oh, fuck, fuck!” you gasp, rushing to his side.

Logan tries to wave you off, gritting his teeth as he grips the doorframe. “”M fine,” he grits, but the tremor in his voice betrays him. 

You reach for him, hands already attempting to steady him as his knees buckle and he collapses to the ground beneath him. “Careful. Claws,” he rasps as his left hand seeks purchase against your shoulder.

“I don’t fucking care about your claws, Logan,” you snap, although you both know your anger isn’t at him. You glance up at him and for once you think you actually see fear in his eyes. “What happened?”

“Gas. Robbery.” Each word punches out of his chest, the effort to speak sending tremors down his limbs. “Got ‘em.” He nods down towards his limp arm, claws still unsheathed, but slowly, so slowly starting to retract.

He winces as you help him peel off his coat to get to the shirt underneath. Your fingers shake as they trace the holes the bullets made—one in his shoulder, dangerously close to his lungs and the other just below his ribs. Hooking your fingers through the fabric, you rip it from his chest—the wounds are deep and his skin is hot and slick with sweat.

Panic claws at you and unshed tears burn in your eyes. You’ve seen Logan hurt before, but this—this was different. His breathing is painfully shallow, his usual gruffness and resilience absent. 

“Logan, you’re not healing,” you whisper, your voice shaking as your fingers stain with blood. Logan simply grunts, trying to wave you off, but lacking the strength. “I can’t…I can’t lose you. I can help.”

Logan’s eyes widen as he grabs for your wrist. “No. You’ll hurt yourself.”

“I don’t care!” you shout. “I love you, dammit, and I’m not just going to sit here and watch you die!”

Before he can protest, you press your palms over his wounds, the familiar warmth of your power surging through you as it spreads from your palms into his torn flesh.

The pain hits you like a freight train.

It’s sharp and relentless, searing through your shoulder and into the softness of your belly like molten fire. You gasp, biting back a scream as your body jerks instinctively away from the intensity, every cell in your body demanding you withdraw from the torture. 

But you don’t stop. You cling to him, tears streaming down your face as you channel your power into him, knitting his flesh back together. You can feel it, the way his muscles, bones and tissue rearrange themselves, months of healing taking place in mere moments. Every second feels like an eternity, but you refuse to let go.

You’re dimly aware of Logan yelling at you to stop, his own pain momentarily forgotten as he watches you endure his agony. 

Black dots dance in your vision as the last of his wounds come together, the spent bullets clinking to the gravel and you finally collapse against him, trembling, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The fire in your body begins to dull, fading to a cold, hollow ache as Logan wraps his arms around you, pulling you tight against his chest.

“Hey,” you mumble against him, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re okay now.”

“Me?” Logan’s voice is low, disbelieving as his hand cradles the back of your head as if you might shatter. “You’re the one—why the fuck would you do that? You could’ve—dammit, you—”

His words break off, his forehead dropping to yours as his breath shudders against your cheek. You can feel the tension radiating through him, warring with himself between his gratitude and anger, between his guilt and the love he’s too afraid to speak out loud.

“I told you why,” you answer, lifting your head to look up at him. 

Logan’s jaw clenches, his words caught in his throat, but his eyes say everything is voice won’t. You don’t need him to say it, not yet, but you can feel it, pressing just below the surface.

“C’mon, let’s get you inside.”

+++

There’s a reverence in which Logan washes you. 

Steam swirls around you as he works the thickly lathered loofah over your shoulders, down across your collarbones and down along the soft planes of your stomach. The water rinses away the faint metallic tang of blood, leaving behind the fresh scent of soap. He continues with a silent determination, as if the act of washing you can erase all the pain you’ve taken from him.

You know better than to convince him you’re fine, that the pain is always temporary, that it only lasts for a few minutes, sometimes just a bit longer. That the pain is something you’d endure for him again and again if he’d let you. 

His thumb brushes along the underside of your ribs, searching for a wound you know he won’t find. You reach for him, lacing your fingers together with his. He blinks up at you, hazel eyes holding far too much worry for such a stoic man.

“I’m not going to break, Logan,” you say softly.

A wordless noice escapes his throat as he removes himself from your grasp and continues to work, ditching the loofah in favor of his hands. His fingers are warm and calloused against your skin as they glide lower, down over the swell of your hips, over your thighs, down towards your knees. 

His touch morphs from one of care and comfort to one more sensual, simmering with unspoken tension as his fingers rest in the hollow behind your knee. You glance down at him, water droplets catching in his hair, running off the slope of his nose. 

Though you’ve seen him bare before, you can help but trace the lines of his body—the broadness of his shoulders, the well defined muscles of his chest, the sturdiness of his thighs, the scars that mar his skin. The sight of him stirs something deep within you and you feel your pulse thrum beneath your skin.

“Logan,” you murmur, your voice almost lost in the sound of the water.

He looks up at you then, eyes locking with yours. A storm swirls within them, a mix of guilt, affection and an intensity that takes your breath away. Leaning in, he presses the barest of kisses to the inside of your knee before he rises to his full height, pressing you close.

“D’you mean what you said before?” he asks, voice low.

I love you, dammit!

“Yes,” you answer without hesitation.

Logan exhales sharply, the tension he’s been holding coiled in his muscles loosening as he loops his arms around your waist. “I’m not very good with words,” he admits, his breath fanning across your damp skin. “Can I show you?”

There’s no mistaking the meaning behind his words and you can only nod, your voice catching in your throat. 

His lips find yours, mouth moving over yours slow and deliberate as if he’s savoring the taste of you. The first touch is a spark, the second a fire, and by the third, it’s an inferno that engulfs you both and leaves you breathless. Logan kisses you like you’re his anchor, his salvation, his touch desperate and full of everything he can’t yet put into words.

Your fingers slide into his hair, gripping the strands at the nape of his neck as you pull him closer, deepening the kiss. He groans against your mouth, the sound swallowed in the space between you. His tongue brushes against yours, teasing and exploring and you respond in kind, your nails scraping along his scalp.

Logan’s control is fraying. You can feel it in the way his teeth nip at your bottom lip, the way his hands press along the curve of your spine, the way he can’t seem to find enough of your skin to touch, to caress. A low growl rumbles through his chest as you slip a hand between your slick bodies, finding his cock, thick and heavy against your belly.

You give one slow drag of your palm along his length before he’s gripping your thighs and forcing your legs around his waist. His mouth leaves yours, trailing down to the curve of your jaw as he presses you against the wall, the coolness of the tile a direct contrast to the heat of your skin and you can’t stop the gasp that escapes your lips. 

Despite his age, the metal bones inside him slowly poisoning him and causing him human aches and pains, he’s still able to hold you up solidly with one arm as the other trails along your hip bone and dips down to where you’re warm and wet. 

“This all for me?” he asks in a murmur, sliding a finger along the seam of your cunt, just barely brushing against your clit. 

Your breath hitches and you grip his shoulders, nails pressing lightly into his skin as you nod. Logan’s eyes darken at your reaction, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Yes,” you finally manage to whisper. “Always for you.”

“Good,” he growls, leaning in to nip at the skin just below your ear. The deep rumble of his voice vibrates through you, his touch deliberate and almost torturously slow as he slides his fingers through your folds, spreading your slickness with a focused and unrelenting precision. 

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp, your head tilting back against the wall as he finally presses his thumb to your clit, circling it with just enough pressure to have your thighs trembling around his waist. 

“I got you,” he coos against your skin, his lips trailing from the pulse point in your neck to your collarbone. His teeth scrape along the curve of your shoulder, his free hand gripping your hip tighter to steady you as his fingers continue to tease and coax. “Lemme make you feel good.”

Every nerve ending is afire beneath him, every motion, every stroke of his fingers against your cunt leaving your mind reeling with pleasure. Your nails dig further into corded muscles of his shoulders, desperate for something to anchor yourself to. You pull back when you see the tiny, crescent shaped cuts marring his skin.

His eyes snap up to yours, sharp and molten. “No, do it,” he urges, fingers still moving. “Mark me with somethin’ pretty.”

“Fuck, Logan,” you gasp. 

“Say my name again,” he demands, his voice rough and commanding. There’s a quiet desperation in his tone, as if hearing it grounds him. Grounds him to this moment. To you. 

You can’t help but obey, whispering his name like a prayer, and he rewards you by slipping one long finger inside you, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure along your spine. Logan watches your face intently as if memorizing the way you react to his touch. When he adds a second finger and slowly begins to thrust his hand, you cling further to him, the heat inside you building to an almost unbearable intensity.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice low and reverent. “You’re so beautiful like this. So wet and warm and tight around me.”

His words barely register in your mind, too focused on the way his fingers curl and thrust inside you, finding that soft spot that makes your eyes roll back. He’s relentless now, his thumb pressing hard against your clit as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.

“Logan, I’m so close,” you whine, your hips beginning to roll against his hand, seeking just a bit more friction, forcing his fingers deeper inside of you.

The tension coiling low in your belly finally snaps, your orgasm washing over you in waves that make your whole body shudder as you cry out his name. Logan holds you through it, his hand continuing to thrust against you as he draws out every ounce of pleasure from you, his own breathing ragged against your skin.

When you finally come down, Logan presses a kiss to your temple as he helps you unwrap your legs from his waist and carefully sets you down, keeping you close. 

You tilt your head to meet his gaze, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “I didn’t think you’d be into shower sex, old man,” you tease with a smile.

His laugh is low. “I can make exceptions. I need a bed to fuck you properly, though.” 

“Prove it,” you challenge.

+++

The heat and intensity between you doesn’t diminish as Logan helps you out of the shower and guides you down the hallway towards his bedroom. A shiver of anticipation crawls up your spine as you get closer, knowing that once you cross this line, there’s no going back, that he will have claimed you fully.

You scoot back onto the bed, watching as he approaches you with a fire in his gaze that doesn’t waver. He climbs onto the mattress, knee pressing down between yours as he cages you in from above, gently pinning you beneath him. 

Leaning down, his lips brush against yours, teasing. “Still wanna challenge me, sweetheart?” His voice is a low gravelly growl that sends a prickling rush of arousal down your limbs.

“Always,” you reply breathlessly, arching into his touch as his hands slide down your thighs, parting them with ease. 

His grin is sharp as he leans back to take you in fully and you acutely feel the weight of his gaze against your skin. He traces his calloused fingers over your damp skin, along the dips of your collarbones, under the swell of each breast, mapping the curve of your hips as if committing you to memory. Dipping his head, he leans down between your legs, his beard grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs and you can’t help but shudder at the sensation.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he says, almost to himself, his voice dripping with desire. He drags his lips higher, brushing along your damp cunt, his breath hot and tantalizing. “And all mine.”

The possessiveness in his tone has you clenching around nothing, heat pooling low in your belly and your fingers tangle in his hair, urging him closer. But he ignores your silent plea, almost deliberately testing your patience as he kisses you everywhere except where you want him most.

“Logan, please,” you gasp, the ache between your thighs almost painful.

“Patience,” he chides with a smirk, though his own resolve seems to be thinning. His hands grip your hips, pulling you closer before he flattens his palms against your thighs, opening you fully to him. Then, his tongue is on you, lapping at you with flat, broad strokes in a rhythm that quickly has you teetering on the edge.

Logan’s focus is unrelenting, his low growls of approval vibrating through you as he works you over with an enthusiasm that proves to you this is about more than just pleasure—he’s claiming you, showing you just how much you mean to him. Making you his. 

Your thighs tremble around him and his warm, rough hands hold you steady as he slips one, then two fingers deep inside of you. It’s embarrassing how quickly you come as he thrusts his fingers against that spot inside you, your second orgasm of the night crashing over you as his name falls from his lips in a breathless moan. 

Before you can properly catch your breath, Logan is moving from between your thighs, making his way back up your body, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses against your skin. His lips finally find yours in a kiss that’s messy and desperate and you can taste yourself on his tongue, sharp and bright, and the intimacy of it sends a thrill through you. 

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” he groans against your lips, his voice wrecked as he grinds his hips against yours, his cock hard and insistent against your hip. “Could spend the rest of my life between between those thighs.”

“Why stop there?” you tease, your lips tugging into a smirk. “I thought you said you’d fuck me properly.”

Logan’s eyes darken, your challenge seeming to light something dark and primal in him. His grin is all teeth as he sits back on his heels, hands curling around your hips and pulling you down the bed like you weigh nothing until your hips are flush with his. “You gotta mouth on you, sweetheart. Should we see if you can still talk stuffed full of my cock?”

The weight of his cock brushes against your slick folds and you gasp at the sensation, your nerve endings exquisitely sensitive. Logan grips himself at the base, giving himself one languid stroke before running the thick head along your cunt, teasing you with shallow thrusts. Each slow, deliberate stroke of him sliding against you leaves you desperate and aching and you lift your hips in search of more.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “So needy. Bet you’ll take me so well, huh?”

“Yes,” you breathe, nails digging into the muscles of his forearms. “Please.”

He presses into you then, the stretch of his cock making your jaw drop as he takes his time, sinking in inch by inch, filling you completely. Logan’s gaze is locked on yours, heavy and possessive as he watches every flicker of pleasure cross your face. 

“Fuck” he groans when he’s fully seated against your hips, his body trembling with the effort to stay still. “You feel…so fuckin’ tight. So damn perfect.”

Your hands clutch at his shoulders, anchoring yourself to him as he starts to move, pulling out torturously slow before thrusting back in harder, setting a rhythm that’s relentless and consuming. Each stroke of his hips has you crying out, your body arching into his as you meet him thrust for thrust.

“Takin’ me so well, sweetheart,” he growls, his fingers gripping the flesh of your hips hard enough to bruise as he continues to pound into you. “Like you were made for me.”

The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mixing in with your whimpered moans and Logans own ragged groans. He leans down, bracing himself on his forearms, the wiry hair on his chest teasing your nipples as his lips find your neck, biting and sucking marks into your skin that feel like promises.

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in deeper, your heels digging into his back as the coil inside you begins to tighten once more. He feels it too, the way you body clenches around him, and his pace falters slightly, his breaths coming faster.

“C’mon,” he rasps against the pulse point on your neck. “Wanna feel you come. Wanna make you fall apart.”

It doesn’t take much more—just a few more well-angled thrusts that hit that spot inside you and the tension finally snaps, your orgasm ripping through you with a force that leaves you trembling. Logan’s finesse is slipping, thrusts growing erratic as chases his own release.

“Come Logan,” you manage in a whisper. “Come for me.”

His hips stutter as he groans your name, spilling into you as his body tenses, lazily thrusting against you as he wrings out the last of his pleasure. He stays deep inside you, still for several moments before he shifts just enough to collapse against your side.

For a long moment, neither of you moves, the only sounds in the room being your heavy breathes and the pounding of your heart. Logan rests his head against your chest, heavy and sweat slick between your breasts. You brush at the strands of hair against his forehead before running your finger along the old scar on his cheek.

He lifts his head to look up at you, his gaze soft yet still simmering with hunger. “I do, you know,” he murmurs. His fingers brush idly against your skin. “Love you.”

A smile spreads across your face, warming blooming in your chest.

“I know.”

+++

You wake before he does, rolling over to find him prone, face buried in the pillow he hugs close to his chest. Sunlight filters in through the half slatted blinds, catching on the silver in his hair and beard and you can’t help but admire how handsome he looks, how at peace he is beside you. He’s relaxed in sleep for the first time since you came here. You’ve heard his growls and yelps of terror that echo in the night, seen the claw marks that pierce his sheets.

Your mind filters back to last night and how he looked as he came apart inside you, how desperate and needy he was for your touch upon his skin. The memory of his gasps and groans send a rush of warmth over your skin, making you dimly aware of the ache between your legs. Logan, so guarded, so unyielding and seemingly unbreakable, trembled as he came, his voice rough and wrecked as he called out your name. You shiver thinking about it.

You want to hear it again. But not now.

Resisting the urge to reach out and brush the hair from his forehead, you leave him undisturbed and slide out of bed. Padding into the kitchen, you find Charles sitting in his chair at the kitchen table, the newspaper spread out in front of him. He looks up at you with a warm smile as you start a pot of coffee, the machine humming to life. 

“Ah, I see,” he comments, a smirk tugging at his lips.

You glance over at Charles, his eyes back on the paper in front of him, but his smile still paints his face, sly and knowing. Heat creeps up your neck as you busy yourself with the coffee. “Are you reading my mind?” you ask, trying to force nonchalance into your tone.

Charles chuckles softly and taps at his temple. “I don’t have to. You’re projecting. And quite loudly, at that.”

You bite your lip as you fill your mug, leaning against the counter as the coffee warms your hands. You attempt to clear your mind, trying to think of anything mundane—the weather, baseball, laundry. Charles just shakes his head. “Relax, my dear. What the two of you do together as consenting adults is none of my business.”

“Oh, God,” you groan, your cheeks aflame. “That’s what I’m projecting?”

“Not that explicitly, no. You think more in feelings, rather than words. But they’re quite powerful emotions and rather hard to ignore when they’re radiating as strongly as yours are this morning.”

You bury your face in your hand, peeking at Charles through your fingers, which only seems to amuse him further. “You’re enjoying this far too much,” you mutter. 

“Perhaps,” Charles says with a laugh. “But you’re helping him. Healing him. And that, my dear, is worth everything.” 

Before you can respond, you hear the sound of heavy footsteps coming down the hall. Logan rounds the corner, hair tousled from sleep, his body still bare except for the pair of low slung sweatpants clinging to his hips. His eyes find yours first, softening in a way they rarely do for anyone else as he scratches at the back of his head and mumbles, “Mornin’.”

“Morning,” you reply with a smile, thankful for the distraction. You pour a second cup of coffee and offer it up to him. “Coffee?”

Logan grunts in affirmation, moving towards you, but instead of reaching for the mug, he loops an arm around your waist, pulling you against him. He buries his face in your neck, beard scraping against your skin as he sighs. “Didn’t like wakin’ up with you not there,” he breathes into your hair, his voice so low you almost don’t hear him.

“Sorry,” you whisper. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“S’okay,” he says softly, pressing the lightest of kisses just under your ear. “Next time, wake me.”

Your heart stutters against your ribs at his open display of affection, the softness and warmth in which he holds you, and the promise behind his words. From over his shoulder you see Charles give you a slight nod, a bright smile on his face before he turns his attention back to the newspaper in front of him.

You think back to what Charles told you all those months ago, about how you were a home for Logan. Those words echo in your mind as you feel Logan’s steady weight against you. He’s so different now, soft and unguarded and in that moment you know.

You’re home, too.

[reaper2187]

Caitlyn kiramman x female reader

The Shadows We Share

The damp, cold air of Stillwater Prison clung to every stone, the metallic tang of despair thick in the narrow corridors. Caitlyn adjusted her rifle strap as she followed the warden, her sharp eyes scanning for any sudden movement. She wasn’t here to gawk; she was here to get answers.

Vi, walking ahead of her in tense silence, had been more than reluctant to return. Stillwater was a scar, a place where guilt and anger intersected with memories she couldn’t fully ignore. She had grudgingly agreed to let Caitlyn help her—after all, Caitlyn wasn’t one to give up once her mind was set. And Vi? She couldn’t shake the feeling she’d left something behind here. Or someone.

As they reached the farthest block of cells, the warden slowed. “You sure this is the one you’re looking for?” he grunted, gesturing to a cell shrouded in shadows.

“I’ll know it when I see it,” Vi shot back, her voice sharp. Caitlyn glanced at her, sensing the tension beneath her bravado.

The cell in question wasn’t like the others. Its occupant didn’t bother pacing or glaring through the bars. Instead, they sat on a cot at the far end, back straight, head tilted slightly as if aware of their observers before they even approached.

When the figure turned, Caitlyn couldn’t help but notice how striking they were. The sharp planes of their face, the unmistakable strength in their posture, and yet, there was something else—a cold, calculating air that seemed almost suffocating.

Vi’s breath hitched. “Y/N?”

The woman blinked, recognition flickering across her stoic features. “Vi.” Her voice was low, even, as if the years hadn’t passed. “Took you long enough.”

Caitlyn watched the exchange curiously, her rifle steady in her grip. Y/N—Vi had called her that—wasn't just another inmate. There was a history here. She could see it in the subtle shift in Vi’s demeanor, the way her usual cockiness dimmed into something more subdued.

“Who’s this?” Y/N asked, her tone neutral but her gaze landing on Caitlyn with an almost clinical assessment.

“Caitlyn,” Vi muttered, waving a dismissive hand. “She’s with me.”

The corner of Y/N’s mouth quirked into what might’ve been a smirk. “With you? Didn’t think you’d take to making friends with enforcers.”

“I didn’t exactly have a choice,” Vi shot back, her fists clenching. “But you—you’re alive. How the hell are you here?”

Y/N leaned back slightly, the chains on her wrists clinking faintly. “Where else would I be? People like me don’t get to walk free, Vi. You know that.”

Caitlyn stepped forward. “And who are you, exactly?”

Y/N’s gaze snapped to her, sharp and unyielding. “Someone who doesn’t need to answer your questions.” Her eyes flicked back to Vi. “But maybe you should answer mine. What are you doing here?”

Vi exhaled slowly, her shoulders relaxing a fraction. “We’re here for something else. Didn’t expect to see you here, though.”

“You didn’t expect to see me because you forgot me,” Y/N replied flatly, her tone cutting but not bitter. “Not that I blame you. You had other priorities.”

“I didn’t forget,” Vi said, her voice low, almost pleading. “I thought you were—”

“Dead?” Y/N offered, tilting her head slightly. “Close enough.”

Caitlyn, feeling the tension growing, intervened. “You’re from Zaun?”

Y/N raised a brow. “A long time ago.”

“She’s more than that,” Vi interjected, her voice laced with guilt. “She’s—she was like a sister to me. She taught me how to fight, how to survive. Vander trusted her with everything.”

Caitlyn frowned, the pieces starting to fit together. Y/N wasn’t just another criminal. She was someone Vi had cared about deeply, someone who had been part of her past long before Stillwater.

The conversation shifted as Caitlyn pressed further. “If you were that close to Vander and the others, why are you here? What happened?”

Y/N’s eyes darkened, her expression unreadable. “Zaun has no shortage of people who want you dead. I made a living off that fact.” She paused, her lips curling into a faint smile. “Apparently, the Piltover authorities don’t appreciate hitmen in their streets.”

“You were arrested for assassination?” Caitlyn asked, her voice sharp.

“Among other things,” Y/N replied nonchalantly. “Stillwater’s my penance.”

Vi shook her head, a mixture of disbelief and frustration flashing across her face. “You could’ve gotten out. You’re too smart for this.”

“Getting out isn’t the problem,” Y/N said quietly. “Staying out is.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Caitlyn glanced between them, sensing that there was far more to this story than either of them was letting on.

Before the conversation could continue, the warden returned. “If you’re done reminiscing, we’ve got schedules to keep.”

Caitlyn nodded, but Vi hesitated, her gaze lingering on Y/N. “We’re getting out of here,” she said firmly. “All of us.”

Y/N raised a brow, her expression skeptical. “You really think it’s that simple?”

Caitlyn stepped forward. “It’s not simple, but it’s possible. If you’re willing to work with us.”

Y/N studied her for a long moment, her piercing gaze seeming to dissect Caitlyn’s every word. Finally, she nodded. “Fine. But don’t expect me to play nice.”

Vi smirked, the tension easing slightly. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

As they turned to leave, Y/N’s voice stopped them. “Vi.”

She looked back, her expression softening slightly. “Yeah?”

“Don’t make me regret this.”

The Escape Plan

Henlo, I do have a second part of this if you all want it. So if you do comment and like. If anyone of y'all have any requests then you can also leave those in the comments or in the submission box thingy

Okiee byeeee

[rafedarling]

drew dealing with rustyns tantrums yk when toddler go through that phase 🥹

love this 👶🏻 love seeing tantrum baby vs drew dad

𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞

request: open

pairing: dad!drew starkey x mom!reader

summary: new year’s eve is a night for celebrations, but for drew and you, it’s also a reminder of how challenging bedtime has become with your three-year-old son, rustyn.

warning(s): english is not my native language. toddler tantrums, perenting struggles, firm discipline (not hard or abusive)

au: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated. taglist | tagging: @rubixgsworld @rafeyslamb @bisexualcvnt @tracymbcm @maybankslover @anamiad00msday @stuffyownswrld @httpsdrewstarkey @mileyraes @enjoymyloves @akobx @noobmazter69 @victwrvale @xoxohoneymoongirl @xoxosblogsblog @wearemadeofstardust0 @saviorcomplexrry @percysley @littlelamy

(love this gif)

New Year’s Eve always been a fun and filled with laughter, music, and the fairy lights strung around the living room. Rustyn, who had been riding a sugar high from earlier snacks and dancing with his parents, was now sprawled on the rug, building a block tower with Drew.

You glanced at the clock: 8:30 PM. Rustyn’s bedtime. It’s always been Rustyn bedtime since he was 1 and you never had a hard time putting him to bed until now

“Rustyn, baby,” you called gently, leaning forward. “It’s bedtime, sweetie.”

Rustyn didn’t even look up.

Drew tried, his tone still calm but a little firmer.

“Come on, bud. You know what time it is time to go to bed.”

Your son continued stacking blocks as if he hadn’t heard a word.

You sighed, standing and walking over to him.

“Do you want Mama or Dada to put you to bed tonight, honey?”

For a moment, Rustyn paused, considering. Drew added, “Mama’s asking you a question, bud. What’s it gonna be?”

Rustyn finally glanced up and answered with a defiant, “No.”

You glanced at Drew, your face falling slightly. Drew caught your look and immediately stood, scooping Rustyn up from the floor despite his protests.

“That’s not how this works, Rusty. It’s bedtime, no arguments,” Drew said, his voice firm but not unkind.

Rustyn immediately began to whine, squirming in Drew’s arms.

“No! no bedtime!”

Drew carried him to his room as you followed a few steps behind, your stomach already twisting at the familiar wails. The moment Drew closed the door to Rustyn’s room, the real tantrum began.

“No, no, no!” Rustyn screamed, his little fists pounding against Drew’s shoulder.

“I don’t want to sleep! I’m not tired!”

Drew sat down on the edge of Rustyn’s bed, holding him firmly but gently in his lap.

“Rustyn,” he said in a low, steady voice, “stop. I need you to calm down.”

Rustyn wailed louder, his little body trembling with frustration.

“No! wanna play!”

You lingered outside the door, listening as Drew handled the meltdown with his signature combination of patience and authority.

“Rusty,” Drew said again, this time softening his tone, “look at me.”

He gently cupped Rustyn’s face in his hands, guiding his tear-streaked eyes to meet his.

“I know you don’t want this fun night to end. I get it and I don’t want it to end either. But you know the rules. It’s bedtime, and your body needs rest.”

Rustyn sniffled but didn’t respond, still glaring at his dad with watery eyes.

“You’re upset,” Drew continued, “but screaming and hitting isn’t how we solve problems, is it?”

Rustyn shook his head slightly, his resolve beginning to crumble.

“Good,” Drew said, brushing a strand of hair out of Rustyn’s face.

“Now, let’s talk about this. Why don’t you want to go to bed?”

Rustyn hesitated before mumbling, “I want stay with Mama. No alone.”

Drew sighed, his features softening even more.

“You’re not alone, bud. Your room is right next to ours. Mama and I are always close by. But we need time to rest too, so we can keep having fun with you tomorrow.”

Rustyn whimpered, burying his face in Drew’s chest.

“But I’m not sleepy…”

“You’re not sleepy now,” Drew acknowledged, rubbing soothing circles on Rustyn’s back, “but if you stay up, you’ll be so tired tomorrow that you won’t want to play. Is that what you want?”

Rustyn shook his head vigorously.

“Okay, then. How about you lie down, and I’ll stay with you for a few minutes until you feel sleepy. Deal?”

Rustyn considered this before nodding slowly.

Drew glanced at you, standing in the doorway, and motioned for you to join them. You stepped inside, sitting beside Drew on the bed. Rustyn reached for you, and you took his small hand in yours.

“You know,” you said softly, “Mama doesn’t like bedtime fights either. It makes me sad to see you so upset, baby.”

Rustyn’s lip quivered. “I’m sorry, Mama.”

Your heart melted.

“It’s okay, sweetie. Just try to be a good boy for Dada, okay? He’s only trying to help you.”

Rustyn nodded, leaning against Drew as his eyelids began to droop. Drew laid him down gently, pulling the blankets up around him.

“Goodnight, buddy,” Drew said, pressing a kiss to Rustyn’s forehead.

“Night night, Dada. Night night, Mama,” Rustyn murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

As the two of you stepped out of the room and closed the door, you let out a deep breath.

“See?” Drew said with a small smile. “Easy.”

You gave him a look.

“Easy? He was screaming like we were torturing him five minutes ago!”

Drew chuckled, pulling you into his arms.

“Okay, maybe not easy. But he’s learning. He just needs consistency. And a little tough love.”

“You’re so good with him,” you admitted, resting your head on his chest. “I don’t know how you stay so calm.”

“It’s because I’ve got you,” Drew said, kissing the top of your head.

“We’re a team, and Rustyn’s lucky to have us.”

[galactic-magick]

Cosmic Love: Viktor/Machine Herald x Reader

Summary: You try to resist your corrupted lover, but you ache too much for his touch that you can’t refuse any longer.

Words: 1.0k

Warnings: SMUT, overstimulation, no pronouns but reader has afab anatomy

Author's Notes: As promised, here is the galaxy quaking, star bursting, 5th dimensional, cosmic anomaly Viktor smut. Takes place between when Jayce tries to kill him and when he goes through the full Machine Herald transformation. Hope you enjoy.

-

He’s been calling to you.

You’ve been ignoring the echoes, ignoring the voices of those he controls. You told him you want no part of it, that you won’t stand by his side if he continues down this cultist path. But even still, he finds ways to continue begging you, sending his followers your way and speaking through them. He pleads for you to join him, to experience the higher awareness and power he has gained. But you must stay strong.

After several months, the cult followers completely lose their humanity, becoming lifeless white and gold husks akin to an army of mannequins. They all look the same, retaining no glimmer of individuality, only the great Machine Herald’s voice to be heard.

As expected, one of them attempts to gain your loyalty back once again, breaking into your house and talking as a mechanized version of the man you once loved.

“I give you one last chance to join me,” it says. “I want you by my side, my love.”

“Viktor...what you’re doing is wrong. You know I can’t do that.”

The form he possesses steps closer to you, metal fingers brushing your cheek. You shiver, but you don’t turn away. You’ve yearned for his touch again for so long, that even this form of him makes you question your answer. His fingers are placed so meticulously, gliding down your neck, your breasts, your hips. It’s so easy to imagine it’s Viktor’s face you’re gazing upon, covering up the blank slate that’s actually in front of you.

“If you won’t join me…” his voice rings clear in your ears. “Allow me to have you one last time.”

You squirm, begging every damn desire in your body to say “no” while the machine’s fingers drop ever closer to the space between your legs.

But you won’t say “no.” You want this as badly as he does, even if it means casting your better judgment aside.

“Please.” you moan.

He takes action at your consent instantly, picking you up like you weigh nothing and dropping you on the bed.

“Soon, love, I will show you all I’ve discovered,” his voice gives you chills while the white figure pulls off your pants and underwear. “But I must start with what you already know, mm?”

You nod and close your eyes, sighing heavily as two fingers tease your clit and slowly enter you. He curls them, pulsing them in and out, his thumb circling your nerves. He does it exactly like he used to, having memorized your body in such detail that he can unravel you through this other vessel. The touches are so like him, you almost forget he’s not really here with you.

You lose yourself to him like clockwork, humming as the machine’s hands crawl up to your face.

“Shall I show you what I see now, dear?”

His fingertips glow against your forehead, and you feel a shock through your system. You suddenly feel weightless, like your cognizance is no longer tied to a physical form. You see beautiful stars and nebula surrounding you, the city you came from now looking so small.

Then you see Viktor, ethereal with his hair aglow. His face is just as it used to be, his body free of worldly constraints. He takes your face in his hands again, something electric pulsing through them.

“You must understand, love,” he says. “This is my destiny. But I would hate to have to accomplish it alone.”

He caresses your form, every stroke and squeeze feeling like another orgasm. Whatever higher being or dimension your consciousness is in now, it’s too much for your physical body to process back home. It isn’t painful, per se, but it is incredibly overstimulating—eliciting more intimate sounds from your mouth.

Your fingers grasp onto his iridescent locks, screaming in ecstasy as Viktor continues to give you sensations you never thought possible. He makes love to you among the stars, your mind filling with the visions of an astral plane and glorious evolution beyond your comprehension. He wordlessly shares his dreams and desires with you and for you—a life of healing, immortality, and ascension. Stars burst around you, and your physical body has likely gone numb, with your current form not far behind.

“Viktor...it’s too much,” you cry out.

The sensations slow down, fading out of your body as you regain your ability to think again.

“This place does have quite the effect on the mind,” Viktor explains, pulling you close to him. “The longer you stay, the less overwhelming it becomes.”

“What is it doing to me?” you ask breathlessly, falling nearly limp in his arms.

“The feeble human psyche cannot grasp the transformation that must take place, and the body suffers from such extremes,” he kisses you softly, “If you are to join me, you must find me, and together we will complete the process.”

You stare into his heavenly eyes, your thumbs tracing his cheekbones, “How do I find you?”

“The Noxian has been keeping my physical body alive. You must go to her.”

“Viktor…” you exhale, his face leaning into your palm and kissing it. “I want to stay with you. I do. I just...all of this is so far beyond what I can understand…”

“I know, darling. I know,” he reassures you, running a hand over your hair, now golden just like his.

“Something just feels so wrong,” you admit. “I don’t want us to do things we’ll regret.”

He shakes his head, “Trust me, love. This is our destiny.”

Ignoring the shrieks of your conscience, you wrap your form around him, inhaling his lips desperately as you both plunge through layers of galaxies. Every nerve in your body is blaring with pleasure, chasing the high you had moments ago. It’s addictive—the sensations experienced as a cosmic power—and you realize now how Viktor could get so consumed by it. Your bodies aren’t limited to any constraints, intertwined and becoming one in every way. You feel him everywhere, his mind and matter melded with yours.

Indescribable pleasure washes over both of you in constant, unstopping waves. You feel his every thought, the need to speak quickly diminishing.

But you still yearn to hear his voice.

“Viktor?”

“Yes, darling?” his hands never leave you, again pulling you into his magnetic essence.

“I’m going to come find you.”

A smirk pulls at his lips, his voice going low.

“I look forward to it.”

[lnfours]

focal point ☆ chapter 2 | l.n

summary: you’re running out of time to start your project and lando’s really trying to get you to agree to his ultimatum, despite your constant disagreeing.

warnings: art student!reader, best friend/college student!oscar, college student!lando, slight enemies to lovers!au, slight grumpy!lando x sunshine!reader, banter per usual, kind of shitty writing, and some more setting the scene.

series masterlist

the sunlight shone in through the tall windows of the library as you scribbled in your notebook. highlighters and pens scattered across the table, laptop sitting in front of you with a list of assignments you needed to get done this week.

the headphones on your head helped block out any noise from the outside world, free of any distractions from the other students in the upstairs portion of the large building. however, they also drowned out the noise of footsteps approaching behind you.

a tap on your shoulder almost sent you flying out of your seat, turning around and tugging an ear cuff off to be met with green eyes and brown, floppy, messy curls that clearly had endured the wind outside. you immediately sighed, “what do you want, norris?”

“well beings you left me on read,” he wore that stupid, signature smirk that you really just wanted to wipe off his face, “i figured i’d come to you with the proposal in person.”

“has anyone told you how insufferable you are?”

he pulled the chair out from across the table, dropping his backpack to the floor before leaning back in the wooden chair, “no, they’re usually telling me i’m irresistible,”

“their standards must be pretty low.”

he shrugged, watching as you closed the lid of your laptop, placing the pen that once had been in your hand down on the lined paper. if there was one thing you knew about lando norris, other than the fact that he was undoubtedly annoying, he was also stubborn as fuck.

“let me get this right,” you started, “you want to be my model for my project so that in return i help you in econ, right?”

“yeah,” he said, “you scratch-“

“‘i scratch your back, you scratch mine’, yeah, whatever,” you said, “here’s my question, why don’t you just go to the tutoring center for help? like everyone else?”

“because i know you,” he said, “and because there’s a long ass waitlist for a tutor.”

“maybe you should’ve went earlier in the semester,” you shrugged.

“wasn’t failing the course til now,” he had an answer for everything, didn’t he?

“look, you’re running out of time to find someone for your little painting, and i’m one test score away from having to take the class again and miss graduation in the spring. why don’t we just be civil for the next month or so, help each other out, and then we can go back to hating each other as much as you’d like.”

maybe he had a point. you were running out of time to get started and despite your best efforts in not trying to feel bad for him, you kind of did. econ was a hard course, even you had struggled with it last semester. and you really didn’t want to be the reason why he misses graduation if you didn’t help him.

it wasn’t really that bad of an ultimatum, surely it could’ve been worse. it’s not like you were going to fall in love with him or anything.

“alright, fine,” you said, making him smile and cheer silently, “but, we‘re doing things my way.”

he put his hands up in fake surrender, “whatever you say,”

you began packing your things into your bag, “can we start tonight?”

“yeah, my last class ends at six. ‘m free after,”

“sounds good,” you said, “i’ll text you which building and floor is mine.”

he nodded, that stupid smirk popping up on his face again, “it’s a date then.”

you scoffed, throwing your bag over your shoulder before calling over your shoulder, “definitely not!”

you got back to your apartment, throwing your keys onto the kitchen counter before spotting your roommate, lily, on the couch. an episode of the show she had been trying to convince you to watch on the tv, but her head leaned back to smile at you softly.

“how was the library?”

you hummed, rummaging in the fridge before grabbing a water bottle from it, “it was fine until the devil showed up.”

she laughed softly, “‘the devil?’”

“yeah,” you plopped down next to her, “remember the guy i was telling you about the other day? oscar’s roommate who asked me to tutor him in exchange for being my model for the project?”

she hummed, “yeah, what did he just show up?”

“unfortunately. i think oscar must’ve mentioned to him that i go to the library on fridays to work on assignments. the guy literally tracked me down to convince me to agree to his plan in person because i left him on read the other night.”

she laughed softly, “gotta give it to him, at least he’s committed,”

“to getting on my nerves? oh, one hundred percent.”

“i mean, at least he’s offering to help you too,” she said, “plus, is he really all that bad?”

“just wait til you meet him,” you mumbled, “what’re your plans for tonight?”

she looked at the time on her phone, “after this episode i’m gonna start getting ready to head to the cafe. promised someone i’d meet them tonight,”

you wiggled your eyebrows, bumping her shoulder, “ooh, is it that cute guy from your chemistry class who you won’t shut up about?”

“one, i do shut up about him,” she sent you a pointed look but her face broke out into a small smile shortly after, “and two, maybe, who knows?”

“lils this is great!” you smiled, “i told you, he’s definitely into you!”

“i hope so. part of me wants to believe you, but the other part is telling me he just said ‘yes’ out of pity.”

“well then he clearly doesn’t know what he’s missing out on if he did,” you stood from the couch, “wear that black long sleeve you have, you look hot in it.”

“i hate you,” she laughed as you ventured to your room, heading to start setting up the things you needed for tonight.

“no you don’t!” you giggled back.

you made your way into your room and gathered all the supplies you were going to need in order to start your project tonight. humming along to a tune that was stuck in your head, you glanced at the clock and realized that time had passed a little quicker than you had thought.

lando should be here any minute.

and as if right on queue, you heard lily’s voice through the apartment, “y/n, lando’s here!”

you made your way to the living room where he was standing talking to lily, backpack still on his shoulders. he sported a backwards cap over his curls with a black hoodie and grey sweatpants to match. little curls peeked out from underneath the hat and-

why were you subtly checking him out?

“okay well you guys have fun,” lily smiled softly, “i’m heading out. it was nice meeting you, lando! i’ll see you guys later!”

her voice brought you back to the present tense, lando bidding her a soft smile and a wave, “nice meeting you, too!”

“bye! good luck!” you called back, causing her to let out a chuckle and a playful eye-roll as she’ll as she headed out the door.

“so,” he said after a beat of silence, following as you led him to your room, “what is it that you need me to do?”

you grabbed your sketchbook from your desk as he sat at the edge of the bed, “you can do whatever you want as long as you’re still enough for me to be able to come up with a draft.”

“sounds good,”

“good, let’s get this whole thing over with, yeah?”

[writingwithfolklore]

Who holds the power in your scene?

This is something we really explored during my time at film school, and is easier to see on the screen but still very applicable on the page. Essentially, in every scene there is one character who is holding the power—meaning they are driving the conversation, driving the action, they are in control because they are going after a goal, and if they are in power, are going to get the closest to achieving it. Every character should have some sort of goal going into every scene, and thus the power can and should shift between characters within the scene to create more interesting dynamics. So how do we do this?

1. Understand each character’s goal—and who is going to “win”

Each character comes into a scene with expectations that form their goal. Let’s do a breakup scene. Character A comes in with the expectation to go on a hike with their partner and have a good time. Their goal may start out as something simple like: “have a good time on this hike” or “avoid fighting with Character B”. Character B is going into this scene knowing they are going to breakup with character A, their goal is to literally just breakup with them.

If we know, as the author, that Character B is going to be successful, we know that this is their scene and they will ultimately hold the majority of the power. Vice-versa if Character A is successful in achieving their goal.

In knowing that, we can get into the actual mechanics of a power shift.

2. Character spacing and movement

Spacing and movement is the most obvious aspect in filmmaking, but may be forgotten on the page. In our example, I would place Character B ahead of Character A on the hike so that they are standing slightly above them on the incline. When they begin discussing their breakup, I would turn them around. Subconsciously, we know that B is “lording” over A, they have the high ground (har-har) and thus are the more imposing, powerful person.

Even the act of turning around would be a display of this power. So I would write it as,

B: Listen, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something… I just don’t really think either of us are happy—I don’t think this is really working anymore. A: What are you saying? B stops walking, turning on their heel to face them. B: I’m saying I want to break up.

3. The Driver of Conversation

Seen a bit in the last section, whoever is driving the conversation, steering the topic and tone, holds the power. You may notice throughout dialogue that there tends to be a questioner and an answerer, or someone providing the action while the other(s) are reacting.

A: I thought we were trying to connect more. Isn’t that what this stupid hike is about? B: Well it’s not working. I’m sorry. I’m done trying.

However, a character can grapple for and shift the power by calling them out or otherwise steering the conversation in a way that they would like instead. At this point, A would likely have shifted their goal from “having a good time” to proving that they were right about some change they picked up on, or in another case, may be trying to convince them to not breakup. If you allow them to “win” for a portion of the scene, you can reverse the power.

A: This is because of that person you met at work isn’t it? How dare you try to pretend that it has anything to do with me. B: Hold on—this has nothing to do with her… A scoffed, stepping forward on the incline. A: You are such a liar. You have been since the day we met. I don’t know why I ever trusted you.

B: I didn’t lie about that. I swear.

And let’s reverse the scene back:

A: What is it then? What is this really about? B: We’re just too different! I’m sorry. B steps past A and starts walking back the way they came.

Power can shift because another character took it, but it can also shift by the character in power giving it up, either intentionally or unintentionally.

4. The leader of action

Otherwise, the person who directs the action; is winning the fight, points out directions or creates the plan, or otherwise is determining where the characters go next or what they do next, holds the power in the scene. A grapple for power doesn’t necessarily need to be verbal but could rather be two people going opposite directions and one of them relenting, for example. This one is more obvious because it’s very visual, but is still an important aspect to how characters “win” or “lose” their goals in a scene.

[the-winter-spider]

I miss you, I'm sorry

Bucky x Reader AU

Word Count: 10k+

Warnings: Toxic, angst, smut

A/N: I love Gracie, and was like fuck it gonna toss something together based off my fav songs by her

The air feels heavy, even though the room is quiet. You sit cross-legged on your bed, your phone resting beside you, the screen dim and blank. The minutes bleed into each other, but you can’t stop glancing at the clock, as if willing it to rewind to before it all.

It’s been three days. Three days of no texts, no calls, no nothing. That’s how it always goes with Bucky. He’s there, and then he’s not. And every time, you tell yourself it’ll be the last time you wait for him to come back.

It never is.

You hate him for how easy it is to disappear. You hate yourself more for letting him.

The phone rings.

The sharp sound cuts through the haze of your thoughts, and for a moment, your heart skips. You snatch the phone up, seeing his name flash across the screen. The sight of it sends a rush of relief, anger, and something softer, something stupidly hopeful, all at once.

You answer, but don’t say anything.

“Hey.” His voice is quiet, gravelly. Tired.

You swallow the lump in your throat. “Hey.”

The silence stretches, brittle and uncomfortable. You can hear him breathing on the other end, steady and soft. It reminds you of the way his breath felt against your skin the last time he stayed over, the last time he let himself get too close before pulling away again.

“I shouldn’t have called,” he mutters finally, his voice tight. “I just… couldn’t sleep.”

You close your eyes. There it is again, the push and pull. The way he says he shouldn’t but always does. The way he drags you back into his orbit every time, knowing you’ll stay.

“What do you want, Bucky?” you ask, keeping your voice steady. It’s a question you’ve asked a hundred times, and you already know the answer.

He exhales sharply, like he’s frustrated—at you, at himself, you’re not sure. “I don’t know.” Another pause. “You were right, okay? About everything. I just…” His voice trails off, and you can picture him sitting on the edge of his bed, rubbing the back of his neck the way he always does when he’s trying to find the words. “I hate this.”

“Hate what?” you snap, the simmering frustration bubbling to the surface. “Hate that you always come back? Or hate that you can’t figure out what the hell you want?”

He doesn’t answer. He never does when you call him out like this.

The silence makes your chest ache. You shake your head, even though he can’t see you. “You can’t keep doing this, Bucky. You can’t keep pulling me back just to push me away again. It’s not fair.”

“I know,” he whispers. And he sounds so broken, so genuine, that it cracks something inside you. It always does.

You take a shaky breath. “Then why do you do it?”

“I don’t know,” he says again. His voice is quieter now, softer, like he’s afraid of breaking you more than he already has. “Because you’re the only thing that feels real. And I don’t know how to hold onto it without screwing it up.”

Your throat tightens. You wish you didn’t understand. But you do. He’s always been good at giving you just enough to stay, but never enough to feel whole. “Its not enough Buck”

“I know,” he says, his voice breaking slightly. “But it’s all I’ve got, you're all i truly have."

You sighed running your head through your hair “Do you wanna come over?”

“I’m already on my way”

You don't have to wait long. The sound of his motorcycle pulling up to your place makes your stomach do a little flip, even though you're still mad at him. You hear his heavy boots on the stairs, and then a soft knock at your door.

You take a deep breath before opening it. He's standing there, his hair tousled from the ride, his face tight and tired. He looks at you, and for a moment, it's like all the walls come down. He reaches out, cupping your face with his hand, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone.

"I'm sorry," he says, his voice rough. "I'm so fucking sorry."

And just like that, you melt. You lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed. His other hand comes up to wrap around your waist, pulling you close. He smells like leather and cigarettes and something uniquely him.

"I missed you," he murmurs, pressing his forehead to yours. "I hate not seeing you."

"I hate it too," you whisper back. "But you can't keep doing this, Bucky. You can't keep hurting me."

He makes a soft, broken sound. "I know. I'm trying, okay? I'm really trying."

The door closes softly behind them, the click of the lock echoing in the charged silence. Bucky's hand is still cupping your face, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheekbone. You lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed as you breathe him in. He smells like leather and smoke, like home and danger all rolled into one.

You press yourself against him, feeling the hard planes of his body through his clothes. He's solid and warm and real, and it's been too long since you've felt him like this. His hands slide down to your waist, pulling you flush against him as he claims your mouth in a hungry kiss.

You moan into it, your fingers tangling in his hair. He kisses like your fights- fierce and intense, like he's trying to claim every inch of you. You kiss back just as fiercely, your tongue sliding against his as you lose yourself in the feel of him.

He walks you backwards towards the bed, his hands roaming your body as he goes. He breaks the kiss only to yank your shirt over your head, tossing it aside carelessly. His mouth is back on yours before you can even blink, his hands cupping your breasts through your bra.

You arch into his touch, your nipples hardening under his palms. He groans low in his throat, his hips pressing forward to grind against yours. You can feel his hardness through his jeans, and it makes you ache with need.

He breaks the kiss again, trailing his lips down your neck as his hands work to unclasp your bra. It falls to the floor, joining the growing pile of clothes. He takes a moment to look at you, his eyes dark with desire as they rake over your naked breasts.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he murmurs, his hands cupping the soft mounds. You gasp as his thumbs brush over your nipples, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you.

He leans down, taking one of the hardened peaks into his mouth. You cry out, your fingers tangling in his hair as he sucks and licks and nibbles. Your hips buck against his, seeking friction, and he groans around your nipple, the vibrations making you shiver.

He gives the other breast the same attention, lavishing it with kisses and bites until you're writhing beneath him. Only then does he move lower, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your stomach as he kneels before you.

His hands hook in the waistband of your jeans, tugging them down along with your panties. You step out of them, kicking them aside as he looks up at you from his knees. The sight of him there, kneeling before you like you're a goddess to be worshipped, makes your knees weak.

"Bucky," you breathe, and it's half plea, half prayer.

He grins up at you, a devilish glint in his eyes. "Patience, baby. I'm going to take my time with you."

And then his mouth is on you, his tongue delving between your folds to taste you. You cry out, your head falling back as pleasure crashes over you. He licks and sucks and teases, his hands gripping your hips to hold you in place as he devours you.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him to you as he drives you closer and closer to the edge. Just when you think you can't take anymore, he pulls back, leaving you gasping and empty.

"Bucky, please," you whimper, and he chuckles darkly.

"Please what, baby? Tell me what you want."

"I want you," you pant, looking down at him with desperation in your eyes. "I want you inside me."

He stands up, pulling you flush against him as he captures your mouth in a searing kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips, and it makes you even more aroused. His hands grip your ass, kneading the flesh as he grinds his hardness against your bare core.

"Bed," he growls against your lips, and you nod frantically, tugging him towards the mattress.

You tumble onto the bed together, a tangle of limbs and desire. He breaks the kiss to sit up, yanking his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. You take a moment to admire the hard planes of his chest, the scars that crisscross his skin like a roadmap of his past.

He crawls back over you, his hips settling between your thighs as he reaches for his belt. You watch, transfixed, as he unbuckles it and shoves his jeans and boxers down, freeing him.

He settles back over you, his head brushing against your entrance. You shudder at the contact, your hips lifting to try and draw him in.

"Tell me you want this," he whispers, his voice rough with need. "Tell me you want me."

"I want you," you breathe, wrapping your legs around his waist. "I want all of you."

And with that, he thrusts into you, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth motion. You cry out at the sudden fullness, your nails digging into his shoulders as you adjust to the stretch.

He pauses for a moment, letting you get used to him. Then he starts to move, pulling out slowly before slamming back in. You meet him thrust for thrust, your hips rising to take him deeper.

The bed creaks beneath you as he sets a relentless pace, driving into you again and again. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with your moans and his grunts of pleasure.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groans, burying his face in your neck. "So perfect."

You clench around him in response, and he curses, his hips snapping forward harder.

"I'm gonna come," you gasp, your body tensing beneath him. "Bucky, I'm gonna-"

But he cuts off your words with a kiss, swallowing your cries of pleasure as you come undone beneath him. Your body spasms around him, milking him as he follows you over the edge with a hoarse shout of your name.

He collapses on top of you, both of you gasping for breath as the aftershocks of your orgasms roll through you. He presses soft kisses to your neck, your jawline, your lips as you bask in the afterglow.

"I love you," he murmurs against your skin, and you hope it's just not the sex talking.

Later that week, you’re sitting at a bar with Natasha. She watches you nurse your drink, her sharp green eyes narrowing as you tell her what happened.

“He called,” you say, staring down at the condensation on your glass. “And like an idiot, I picked up, and he came over, we had sex and he was gone in the morning”

Natasha doesn’t say anything at first. She just leans back, crossing her arms. “What do you want me to say?” she asks finally. “That he’s going to change? That this time will be different?”

You shake your head. “No. I just…” You trail off, struggling to put the feeling into words. “I just wish I didn’t miss him so much. I wish I could stop.”

She sighs, leaning forward. “Listen to me,” she says, her voice soft but firm. “He’s not going to fix this. You know that, right? He’s not going to wake up one day and suddenly figure out how to love you the way you deserve. That’s not who he is, you have to know that babe…"

“I know,” you whisper. But the ache in your chest doesn’t go away.

Natasha exhales deeply, tilting her head as if trying to decide whether to push further. Finally, she sets her drink down and leans across the table, her voice quieter but no less serious. “So, what’s the plan? You gonna keep answering when he calls? Keep letting him come over, screw you and your head, and leave like nothing happened?”

You don’t answer, just trace the edge of your glass with your finger. The truth is, you don’t have a plan. You’re not even sure you want one. “He said he loves me, he's never said that before”

Natasha leans back in her chair, crossing her arms as she studies you. Her sharp green eyes narrow slightly, but there’s no satisfaction in her expression. She doesn’t look impressed, doesn’t look relieved, like you’d hoped she might. Instead, her face softens, just slightly, in that way that means she’s about to say something you don’t want to hear.

“Okay,” she says slowly, her voice calm but pointed. “And what does that change?”

Her question hits like a bucket of cold water, and you blink at her, your fingers freezing mid-trace on the rim of your glass. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, so what?” Natasha continues, leaning forward now, her elbows on the table. “He said the words. Great. But what does that actually mean to you? Did it make you feel better? Did it fix anything?”

You open your mouth to reply, but no words come out. The truth sits heavy in your chest.

“It’s not enough just to say it,” Natasha presses, her tone still steady but with an edge of frustration. “Love isn’t just words. It’s showing up. It’s consistency. It’s choosing someone, not just when it’s convenient, but every single day. Did he do that? Or did he just say what you’ve been waiting to hear and then disappear again?”

The ache in your chest tightens, and you look down, your fingers clutching the glass like it might hold the answers you’re searching for. “He—he’s trying,” you say weakly, but even you don’t sound convinced.

Natasha lets out a breath, her voice softening again. “Babe… I know you want to believe him. I know you love him. But this?” She gestures vaguely, as if to encompass all of it—your tears, the late-night calls, the endless cycle. “This isn’t what love is supposed to feel like. Love doesn’t leave you questioning your worth every time the sun comes up.”

The words settle over you like a weight, and you swallow hard, blinking back the tears that threaten to spill. You don’t want her to see you cry. Not here. Not like this.

“Nat…” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. But she shakes her head, her expression soft but unyielding.

“I’m not saying this to hurt you,” she says gently. “I just… I want you to be happy. And you’re not happy right now. You haven’t been for a long time.”

Before you can respond, the stool next to her screeches, and Sam slides into it, his energy a stark contrast to the heavy atmosphere between you and Nat. He plunks his beer on the table and gives you a once-over.

“Well, you look like someone stole your puppy,” he says, his tone light but his eyes sharp.

Natasha shoots him a look. “Not the time, Sam.”

“I’m just saying,” he replies, leaning back and gesturing to you. “She’s been sitting here all night, looking like a sad indie song, and you’re just gonna let her wallow?”

You glare at him, the frustration bubbling to the surface. “Do you have something to say, or are you just here to make jokes?”

“Both,” Sam says, taking a sip of his beer before setting it down. “Look, I love you, but this thing with Bucky? It’s killing you, and everyone can see it. Hell, you can see it, but you’re still pretending like it’s gonna work itself out.”

“Sam,” Natasha warns, but he holds up a hand.

“No, let me finish,” he says, his voice more serious now. “I’ve been where you are, okay? Hanging onto something that’s breaking you because you’re scared to let it go. But you know what happens if you keep holding on?” He pauses, meeting your eyes. “You lose yourself. And I don’t want that for you.”

His words hit harder than you expect, and for a moment, all you can do is sit there, blinking back the tears threatening to spill.

“I don’t know how to let him go,” you admit finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t even know who I am without him.”

Sam leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Then it’s time to figure that out. Because you deserve better than waiting around for someone who doesn’t see how amazing you are—not someone who only comes around when it’s convenient for him.”

After Sam and Natasha head home, you find yourself walking through the quiet streets, your hands shoved into your coat pockets. The city hums around you, but you feel untethered, like you’re floating between who you are and who you want to be.

Before you realize it, your feet take you to Bucky’s building. You stop at the corner, staring up at the windows. The lights in his apartment are off, but you know he’s there. He’s always there.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket. You pull it out, your heart sinking when you see his name.

Bucky: You up?

The message is simple, familiar, and infuriatingly tempting. Your thumb hovers over the screen.

You: Yes, just leaving the bar.

Bucky: Ill see you in 20.

You see his light flick on.

You: Okay.

You’re sitting in your apartment with Steve. He’d shown up unexpectedly, a bag of bagels in one hand and a concerned look on his face. Now, he’s watching you carefully as you pick at your food, the silence between you growing heavier by the minute.

“I heard about last night,” he says eventually, breaking the stillness.

You glance up, narrowing your eyes. “Natasha?”

“Sam,” he admits with a small smile, but his expression stays serious. “He’s worried about you. We all are.”

You sigh, leaning back against the couch. “I’m fine, Steve.”

“You’re not fine,” he says gently, setting his coffee down on the table. “And it’s okay to not be fine. But you need to stop punishing yourself for wanting more than what Bucky can give you.”

Your chest tightens, and you look away, your voice barely audible. “He’s not a bad person, Steve. He’s just… broken.”

“I know he is,” Steve says softly, his tone patient but firm. “And I know he cares about you, even if he’s too scared to show it. But that doesn’t mean you have to keep hurting yourself to save him.”

You open your mouth to respond, but the words get stuck in your throat. Instead, you ask the question that’s been clawing at you for days. “Is he seeing anyone else?”

Steve freezes mid-bite, his jaw tightening. “Yes.”

You nod slowly, your hands trembling as you set your plate down on the coffee table. “Are they… are they having sex?”

Steve’s shoulders sag slightly, and he shakes his head. “No.”

The relief you feel is fleeting, quickly replaced by another ache—something deeper, sharper. “He told me he loves me, y’know,” you whisper, your voice cracking.

That makes Steve freeze completely. He sets his bagel down, staring at you with wide, startled eyes. “He said that?”

You nod, the words pouring out of you now, unfiltered and raw. “He’s never said it before. And I didn’t know what to do. Because it felt… real. For a second, it felt like maybe this time was different. But then he was gone the next morning, like always.”

Steve leans back in his chair, his brow furrowed, like he’s trying to process what you’ve just said. “Did he mean it?” he asks finally, his voice cautious.

You let out a bitter laugh, wiping at your eyes. “I don’t know, Steve. Does it matter? He says one thing, but everything else he does just…” You trail off, shaking your head.

“It matters,” Steve says firmly, leaning forward. “If he loves you, that’s something. But love isn’t enough if he can’t show it, if he can’t make you feel it.” Steve is quiet for a long moment, his expression pained. “You deserve more than that,” he says finally. “You deserve someone who’s not afraid to fight for you. Someone who doesn’t make you feel like you’re asking for too much just by being yourself.”

-----------

The music is loud, pulsing through the crowded bar in a steady rhythm that matches the pounding in your chest. You're friends are off dancing their cares away, while you sit at a small table near the corner, nursing your drink, half-hidden in the dim lighting. The condensation from the glass drips onto your hand, but you barely notice.

Your eyes keep drifting to him.

Bucky is across the room, his arm slung casually around another woman’s shoulders. She’s laughing, tilting her head toward him like he’s just told her the funniest joke in the world. He looks… relaxed. At ease in a way you haven’t seen in a long time, and it’s like someone’s taken a knife to your chest, twisting it deeper with every passing second.

You force yourself to look away, staring into the amber liquid in your glass like it holds answers to questions you’re too scared to ask. But it doesn’t work. Your gaze flickers back to him, almost involuntarily.

They’re dancing now, swaying to a song you don’t recognize. His hand rests lightly on her hip, his fingers brushing against the fabric of her dress in a way that feels too intimate, too familiar.

And then he kisses her.

Not on the lips, but on her head, his lips lingering against her hair as she leans into him. It’s tender, effortless, the kind of gesture that feels natural, like it belongs to someone who knows how to love without hesitation.

Your chest tightens, and you swallow the lump forming in your throat, forcing yourself to take another sip of your drink. The bitterness burns your tongue, but it’s nothing compared to the ache spreading through you.

You tell yourself you don’t care. That this doesn’t matter. That he’s made his choice, and it isn’t you.

But the truth is, it matters too much.

You drain the rest of your drink, the cold liquid going down in one sharp swallow. You set the glass down harder than you mean to, the dull thud lost in the noise of the bar.

You glance over at him one last time, just to confirm what you already know. He’s still there, his attention focused on her.

But then his eyes shift.

He sees you.

For a split second, your gazes lock across the room, and the weight of his stare pins you in place. His hand pauses on her back, and something flickers in his expression—guilt, maybe, or regret.

You can’t tell, and you’re not sure you want to.

The heat of his gaze follows you as you stand, slipping your bag over your shoulder and making your way toward the door. The noise of the bar fades into the background as you weave through the crowd, your footsteps quick and purposeful.

You don’t look back, but you can feel him watching you, his eyes lingering like a phantom touch that burns even after you’re gone.

The cold night air hits your face as you step outside, and you inhale deeply, trying to push the ache in your chest away.

But it stays. It always stays.

That night, you’re curled up on your couch, a blanket wrapped around you as the city lights flicker through the window. Your phone sits on the coffee table, dark and silent.

Until it’s not.

The screen lights up, and Bucky’s name appears. The voicemail notification lingers like a ghost, and your hand trembles as you reach for it.

You press play, his voice cracking through the silence.

“I know I’ve screwed this up. I know I don’t deserve another chance. But I miss you, and I don’t know how to do this without you. Please… just call me, I’m sorry”

-------

You find him outside on the balcony, leaning heavily against the railing, his shoulders hunched like the weight of the world is pressing down on him. The cold night air bites at your skin, and the faint glow of the streetlights below casts shadows that dance across his face. He doesn’t turn when you step out. He never does. That’s the thing about Bucky—he always knows you’re there, but he’s mastered the art of pretending not to.

The sound of the sliding door closing behind you feels final, like you’ve just stepped into a space you won’t come back from. Your arms wrap around yourself, a weak defense against the cold—or maybe against him—and you take a hesitant step forward.

“I thought you left,” you say, breaking the fragile quiet. Your voice wavers, as unsure as the ground you’re standing on.

He finally looks over his shoulder, his eyes heavy and rimmed with shadows. He looks wrecked. Tired in a way that no amount of sleep could fix. “Almost did,” he says softly, his voice barely audible over the distant hum of the city.

You step closer, your chest tightening at his words, at the way he doesn’t move, doesn’t shift to let you in. “Why didn’t you?”

He shrugs, turning back to the skyline, his fingers gripping the railing. “I haven’t heard from you all week.”

The ache in your chest sharpens at his tone, a flicker of hope you hate sneaking in despite yourself. It’s always like this: just enough vulnerability to keep you tethered. You stop a few feet away, the space between you feeling like a canyon, impossible to bridge.

“This isn’t working,” you say, finally voicing the thought that’s been clawing at you for weeks. “Whatever this is. It’s not working, Bucky.”

He doesn’t react at first, just keeps staring out at the city, like it holds an answer he’s too afraid to look for. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and rough. “I know.”

The simplicity of his admission steals your breath. It’s not that you didn’t expect it. You did. You’ve been here before, standing on the edge of this same cliff, waiting for the inevitable fall.

“So why are we still here?” you ask, your voice trembling, tinged with a desperation you wish you could hide.

He exhales, dragging a hand through his hair. The motion is frustrated, exhausted, like he’s tired of his own indecision. “Because I don’t know how to stop,” he admits, his words cutting through the night air with brutal honesty.

You take another step closer, close enough to see the tension in his jaw, the way his knuckles turn white as he grips the railing. “Bucky,” you say, your voice soft but breaking. “I need more than this. I need to know if you’re ever going to stop running every time things get hard. Because I can’t keep waiting for you to figure it out.”

He turns to face you then, his blue eyes locking onto yours. There’s something in them—something raw and fragile and so heartbreakingly familiar. For a fleeting second, you think this is it. The moment he’ll finally tell you what you’ve been waiting to hear.

But then he looks away, his jaw tightening. “I don’t know if I can.”

The nausea hits you like a punch, twisting your stomach into knots. You take a shaky step back, wrapping your arms around yourself like it might keep you from falling apart. “Do you even want to try?”

His silence is deafening, an answer in itself.

You let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow and sharp. “You’re unbelievable,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him. “I’m standing here, practically begging you to tell me you care, and you can’t even do that.”

“I care,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “You know I care.”

“Do I?” Your voice rises, anger bubbling to the surface, breaking through the pain. “Because it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it. You say you care, but you act like I’m something you can pick up and put down whenever it’s convenient for you.”

“Stop,” he says, his voice suddenly firm, his eyes snapping back to yours. There’s something desperate in his tone, something pleading that makes your breath hitch. “I don’t… I don’t know how to do this.”

“No, Bucky.” You shake your head, your voice trembling with fury and heartbreak. “You just don’t want to. And there’s a difference.”

The words hang between you, heavy and suffocating. He opens his mouth, like he’s about to say something, but then he stops. His eyes dart back to the city skyline, and you see it—the war he’s waging with himself, the battle between what he wants and what he’s too scared to reach for.

“Say something,” you whisper, your voice cracking under the weight of the moment. “Say anything.”

“I’m seeing someone,” he says suddenly, his hands gripping the railing so tightly you half expect it to snap. The words hit like a freight train, knocking the air from your lungs.

The world around you tilts. Your hands tremble as you take a step back. “Of course you are,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. The bitter laugh that follows feels like it belongs to someone else. “I’m done.”

You turn toward the sliding door, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it might shatter. Your hand trembles as you reach for the handle, pausing for just a second, hoping—praying—he’ll stop you. That he’ll fight.

But the silence stretches on, heavier and colder than the night air.

When you glance over your shoulder, he’s still standing there, staring down at the city like he’s already let you go.

Your throat tightens, but you force yourself to slide the door open and step back inside. The warmth of the apartment hits you like a slap, but it does nothing to ease the chill in your chest.

The door slides shut with a quiet thud.

And Bucky doesn’t follow.

You’d just moved into a new apartment, one that wasn't tainted with all the places he'd touched, places he'd been. It made things easier it wasn't the reason for your move but it helped. Natasha had decided you were both done unpacking for the night so naturally she had dragged you to a party. Steve’s place, of course. The apartment was alive with the energy of too many people crammed into too little space. Natasha had disappeared into a circle of friends near the kitchen, leaving you to nurse your drink in a corner. That’s when you noticed him.

Bucky.

He was leaning against the wall, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. Dark hair falling into his eyes, a leather jacket slung over his shoulder despite the heat of the crowded room. He didn’t see you at first, but when he did, his gaze lingered just long enough to make your pulse race.

You told yourself you wouldn’t approach him, but an hour later, you were pressed against the wall in Steve’s hallway, his lips trailing down your neck, his hands gripping your hips like he couldn’t get close enough. It was messy, impulsive, and thrilling.

“We probably shouldn’t,” you’d whispered, your breath catching as his mouth moved against your collarbone.

He’d laughed softly, his voice low and rough. “Yeah. Probably not.”

Neither of you stopped.

There were moments after that—moments that felt like everything you’d ever wanted. Late nights in his apartment, the room dimly lit by the glow of the city outside. He’d lie next to you, his fingers tracing absent patterns on your arm as you talked about everything and nothing.

He’d tell you about his childhood, the things he rarely told anyone. The weight of his past. And you’d listen, feeling like you were peeling back layers of him that no one else had ever seen.

“You don’t have to fix me,” he’d murmured once, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I like being around you.”

You’d smiled, brushing his hair back from his face. “I’m not trying to fix you, Bucky.”

And in those moments, you weren’t lying.

But then there were the other moments. The ones where he pulled away so fast it left you reeling.

You remember the first time he didn’t text you back. It wasn’t just hours—it was days. Days of overanalyzing every word you’d said to him the last time you saw him. Days of your stomach twisting every time your phone buzzed, only for it to not be him.

When he finally did text, it was so casual it made you want to scream.

“Hey. You good?”

No apology. No explanation. Just like that, he was back. And you let him back in because you didn’t know how not to.

And then there was the jealousy. The way you’d catch him talking to someone else at a party, his body language so open and inviting in a way it rarely was with you. You hated how it made you feel, the bitterness that bubbled up, the way you wanted to pull him aside and demand to know if he cared about you at all.

But you didn’t. You never did.

“Do you even want to move on?” Wanda asks, her tone soft but pointed. “Or is this just who you are now?”

You blink at her, her words cutting through the haze of your thoughts. “I don’t know,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

She sighs, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. “You deserve better, you know that, right?”

The door swings open, and Natasha walks in, dropping her bag on the counter. She gives you a look, one that’s equal parts sympathetic and exasperated.

“Let me guess,” she says, crossing her arms. “You’re thinking about him again.”

You don’t answer, but the way your jaw tightens is enough for her to roll her eyes. “You know he’s not good for you. Why do you keep doing this to yourself?”

“I don’t know,” you snap, harsher than you mean to. “Maybe because it’s not that simple.”

“Actually, it is,” Natasha retorts, her voice sharp. “You stop calling him. You stop answering when he calls. You stop letting him treat you like an afterthought.”

“Nat—” Wanda starts, her tone soothing, but Natasha holds up a hand.

“No, she needs to hear this.” She looks at you again, her expression softening just slightly. “I know you care about him. But caring about him isn’t enough if he doesn’t care about you the same way. At some point, you have to start putting yourself first.”

You glance away, her words hitting too close to home.

“I don’t get you,” you’d once said your voice trembling with frustration. “One minute you’re here, and it feels like—like maybe this could be something. And the next, you’re gone.”

He’d run a hand through his hair, pacing the room. “It’s not that simple.”

“Yes, it is, Bucky,” you’d said, your voice rising. “You either want me, or you don’t. So which is it?”

He’d stopped then, turning to look at you. And the look on his face—it wasn’t anger or indifference. It was fear.

“I don’t know,” he’d said finally, his voice breaking.

And that was the worst part.

“You’re spiraling,” Sam said. He wasn’t harsh about it, but he didn’t sugarcoat it either. “This isn’t love. It’s self-destruction.”

Even as you think it, your phone buzzes on the coffee table. The sound feels too loud in the quiet room, pulling everyone’s attention. You glance at the screen, and your heart skips when you see his name. Just his name—no message preview, no context, just him.

Wanda notices, her brow furrowing as she leans forward. “Don’t,” she says softly, but there’s a weight behind the word, a plea. “You’ll just end up back where you started.”

You stare at the screen, your thumb hovering over the notification. The silence in the room grows heavier, charged with unspoken tension. Your chest tightens as your mind races. It would be so easy. Just one tap, and he’d be there again. One tap, and you’d hear his voice, feel the pull that always brings you back.

“I just…” Your voice falters, your eyes flickering to Wanda and then to Sam, who watches you with a mix of concern and frustration. “What if this time it’s different?”

Sam lets out a bitter laugh, running a hand over his face. “You think this time is different? Come on. What’s he going to say that he hasn’t already said a hundred times before?”

“It’s not about what he says,” Wanda interjects, her voice gentle but firm. “It’s about what he does. And what has he done, really, except hurt you?”

You look back at the screen. The notification is still there, a glaring reminder of the mess you can’t seem to escape. Your thumb presses down slightly, not enough to open it but enough to feel the weight of the choice.

“But I love him,” you whisper. The words tumble out before you can stop them, raw and unfiltered.

Sam exhales sharply, standing up from the chair and pacing across the room. “Yeah, we know. Everyone knows. But does he love you? Because if he does, he’s got a real shitty way of showing it.”

You flinch at his tone, the harshness cutting through your defenses. “He does love me,” you say quietly, more to yourself than to him.

“Then where is he?” Sam snaps, turning to face you. “Why isn’t he here, fighting for you instead of blowing up your phone every time he feels lonely? Why is it always you doing the heavy lifting?”

Wanda places a hand on Sam’s arm, pulling him back gently. “Sam…”

“No, I need to say it,” he says, his voice softer now but still firm. “Love isn’t supposed to feel like this. It’s not supposed to feel like you’re drowning every damn day just to keep him afloat.”

The bar is too loud, too crowded, and too filled with memories of Bucky for you to feel at ease. But you’re here because it’s Steve’s birthday, and Natasha had insisted. And of course you came it was Steve.

You’re leaning against the bar, talking to a man you barely know. His smile is easy, his laugh smooth, and even though you’re trying to focus on him, you can feel Bucky’s eyes on you. From across the room, his gaze burns into your back, searing through your dress like a brand.

You glance over your shoulder, meeting his eyes for a split second. The tension in his jaw, the way his drink sits untouched in his hand—it’s the most emotion he’s shown all night. But it’s not enough to stop you.

If he wants to act like he doesn’t care, you’ll give him something to not care about.

The man beside you leans in, his hand brushing against your arm as he says something you don’t quite catch over the noise. You laugh, even though you barely hear the joke. You laugh because you know Bucky is watching.

It doesn’t take long for him to snap.

Before you realize what’s happening, his hand is on your wrist. Firm but not rough, his grip sends a jolt through you. “Let’s go,” he says, his voice low and clipped.

“Excuse me?” You pull back, glaring at him, but his grip doesn’t loosen.

“We’re leaving,” he says, not looking at you, not giving the man beside you so much as a glance.

“Bucky—” you start, but he’s already pulling you through the crowd, weaving between bodies with single-minded determination.

By the time you reach his apartment, you’re seething. He slams the door shut behind you, the sound echoing through the dimly lit space.

“What the hell is your problem?” you snap, crossing your arms.

“My problem?” he fires back, pacing across the room like a caged animal. “My problem is you acting like that guy meant anything to you!”

“Oh, and you would know what means something to me, right?” You take a step closer, your voice rising. “Because you’re so good at showing me how much I mean to you.”

He stops, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t turn this on me.”

“Why not? It’s always about you, isn’t it, Bucky? What you want, what you feel. You drag me into your mess every time, and I let you, because I—”

You stop yourself, your breath catching.

“Because you what?” he demands, his voice sharp.

“Because I care about you!” you yell, your chest heaving. “And all you ever do is hurt me for it.”

His face twists, like your words hit him somewhere deep. For a moment, you think he’s going to say something, that he’s going to explain or apologize or do something, but instead, he grabs a plate from the counter and hurls it against the wall. The sharp crash reverberates through the room, the pieces scattering across the floor like jagged confessions neither of you are ready to face.

You flinch at the sound, but the fire in your chest burns brighter, fueled by the chaos. “Oh, real mature, Bucky. Breaking dishes? That’s your solution? Just break things until you don’t have to feel anything anymore?”

He grabs another plate, his hand trembling as he grips it, his knuckles white. His voice breaks as he yells, “You think this is easy for me? You think I don’t know I’m screwing this up? That I don’t hate myself for it?”

“Then stop!” you shout back, your voice raw and cracking under the weight of it all. “Stop hurting me, stop dragging me back, stop—just stop!”

The plate shakes in his hand, and for a second, you think he’s going to throw it again. Instead, he slams it down on the counter with a hollow thud. His shoulders slump as he leans over it, his head bowed like he’s trying to hold himself together. His breathing is ragged, his hands gripping the edge of the counter so tightly you think it might break under the strain.

“I don’t know how,” he whispers finally, his voice so soft you almost don’t hear it. “I don’t know how to be what you need.”

The vulnerability in his voice slices through you, but it’s not enough. Not this time. The ache in your chest is unbearable, your heart breaking as you look at the man you love and realize he’ll never love you the way you need him to.

“Then let me go, Bucky,” you say, your voice trembling but resolute. “If you can’t give me what I need, let me go.”

He finally turns to face you, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “I can’t,” he says, his voice breaking like the plates he just shattered. “I don’t want to let you go.”

Your chest tightens, the pain twisting deeper with every word. “Aren’t you seeing someone?” you ask, your voice sharper than you intended.

He shakes his head, his jaw clenching. “She’s not you,” he says, his voice trembling. “They’re never you.”

The admission stuns you into silence for a moment. The tears you’ve been holding back spill over, hot and heavy. “Then why can’t you give me that, Bucky?” you whisper, your voice shaking with anger and grief. “Why can you give it to them but not to me? Why is it always me who’s left bleeding for you? It’s not fair—I give you everything! And you just take, take, take! What’s left of me after this?”

Your words hang between you, raw and unfiltered, and for a moment, he doesn’t respond. He doesn’t try to defend himself, doesn’t even try to apologize. He just stares at you, his eyes wide and desperate, like he’s drowning in the mess he’s made.

Then, without warning, he steps forward, grabbing your face in his hands. His touch is rough, almost frantic, his fingers trembling against your skin. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry.”

And before you can say anything, before you can even catch your breath, his lips crash into yours.

The kiss is desperate and messy, his tears mixing with yours as he pulls you closer like he’s afraid to let go. His hands shake as they cup your face, his lips pressing against yours with a fierceness that makes your knees weak.

You hate how easily you give in, how quickly your hands find their way to his chest, clutching at the fabric of his shirt like it’s the only thing keeping you upright. The anger and pain and longing all bleed together in that kiss, every unspoken word, every broken promise, every piece of you he’s taken without giving anything back.

When he pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm and ragged against your skin. “But I can’t lose you. Please… don’t leave me.” He whispers his voice trembling

Your heart shatters all over again. “Okay”

Bucky’s hands tighten on your arms, his breath warm and uneven against your face. His lips hover just above yours, his eyes searching yours for something—permission, maybe, or forgiveness he doesn’t deserve. You don’t give it to him, but you don’t pull away either.

Instead, your hands move on their own, sliding up his chest and curling into the fabric of his shirt. The tension between you snaps like a live wire as he closes the distance again, his mouth crashing against yours with a desperation that leaves no room for hesitation.

The kiss deepens, his lips parting yours, his tongue brushing against yours in a way that sends heat pooling low in your belly. His hands roam down your sides, fingers gripping your hips like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. You press closer, your body molding to his as the frustration and anger between you melt into something darker, hotter, and infinitely more consuming.

Bucky backs you up until your hips hit the edge of the counter, the cool surface biting into your skin through the thin fabric of your dress. His hands slide up your thighs, his touch firm and deliberate as he lifts you onto the counter. You gasp against his mouth, your hands tangling in his hair as he steps between your legs, his body pressing against yours in all the right ways.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough and breathless. “If this isn’t what you want, tell me now.”

You pull back just enough to look at him, your chest heaving as you meet his gaze. His blue eyes are dark, filled with a mix of longing and uncertainty that tugs at something deep inside you. “Don’t stop,” you whisper, your voice trembling with need.

That’s all it takes. He grips the hem of your dress and pulls it up, his hands sliding over your thighs, rough and calloused against your skin. His lips trail down your neck, his stubble scraping lightly against you as he kisses the sensitive spot just below your ear. Your head tilts back, a soft moan escaping your lips as his hands and mouth make you forget every argument, every broken moment that led you here.

His fingers find the edge of your underwear, his touch teasing as he looks up at you, waiting. You nod, your breath hitching as he slides them aside, his fingers exploring with a skill that leaves you trembling. He watches you intently, his gaze locked on your face as he learns every reaction, every sound you make.

When his name slips from your lips, low and needy, it’s like something inside him snaps. He lifts you effortlessly, carrying you to the couch with a strength that leaves you dizzy. The world blurs around you, your focus narrowing to the feel of his body against yours, the weight of his hands, the intensity of his gaze.

“You’re all I think about,” he says, his voice raw as he settles over you. “Every damn day.”

You don’t answer. You can’t. The only response you can give is the way you arch into him, the way you pull him closer, needing him as much as he needs you. And when he finally joins you, it’s slow and deliberate, every movement designed to pull you deeper into the storm of him.

The morning light seeps through the curtains as you stand by his window, fully dressed, the quiet hum of the city below serving as your only company. Bucky is still asleep in the bed, his arm draped across the pillow where you had been just hours ago. You glance at him one last time, your heart clenching in your chest. For a fleeting moment, you consider crawling back into bed, letting yourself believe in the softness of this moment.

But you can’t.

You quietly grab your things and slip out the door, the sound of it clicking shut behind you feeling heavier than it should.

By mid-morning, you’ve buried yourself in mundane errands—anything to keep your mind from circling back to him. You’re at the farmer’s market now, weaving through the stalls of fresh produce and flowers, the air filled with the faint scent of lavender and bread. You clutch a tote bag tightly in your hand, trying to focus on the vibrant colors of the fruit in front of you.

You pick up an apple, turning it over in your hand absently. It’s almost enough to distract you from the ache still lodged in your chest. Almost.

Until you see him.

You freeze, the apple slipping from your grasp and thudding softly onto the wooden table in front of you. Your breath catches, and the world seems to narrow until it’s just him, standing only a few stalls away.

His dark hair catches the sunlight, and for a moment, it feels like nothing has changed, like the night before never ended. His eyes are locked on yours, wide and filled with a mix of emotions you can’t quite place—shock, guilt, something softer that makes your chest tighten painfully.

For a moment, it’s just the two of you, suspended in time. Everyone else around you fades into nothing, their chatter and laughter muffled like the background of a dream.

But then your gaze shifts.

To her.

The woman standing beside him.

Her hand is clasped firmly in his, their fingers intertwined in a way that feels too familiar, too intimate. She’s beautiful, her expression warm and open as she looks up at him, clearly unaware of the storm brewing between his gaze and yours.

Your stomach twists violently, and the apple you’d forgotten about rolls off the edge of the table and hits the ground.

Bucky’s face changes when he sees you notice her, his eyes softening with guilt, his mouth parting as if he wants to say something, anything. But he doesn’t.

He just stands there, holding her hand, while your chest caves in.

You swallow hard, your throat tight as you force yourself to look away, your vision blurring with unshed tears. You clutch your tote bag tighter and turn, walking away without another word.

You barely make it out of the market before the tears spill over. You wipe them away furiously, your hands trembling as you duck into a side street, out of view from the crowds.

The weight of his gaze lingers on your back, like a hand reaching out but never quite touching you. You can feel him watching you, but you don’t dare turn around. You can’t.

You stop for a moment, your chest heaving as you lean against the wall of a brick building. The morning sun feels too bright, the world too loud despite the hollow silence pounding in your ears.

He didn’t follow.

You told yourself you didn’t want him to, but the ache in your chest says otherwise.

When you glance back toward the market, just for a second, you see him standing at the edge of the stalls, his hand no longer in hers, his face etched with something that looks like regret.

But he doesn’t move.

And neither do you.

With a deep breath, you wipe your face one last time, adjust the strap of your tote bag, and walk away. The weight in your chest feels unbearable, but your feet keep moving anyway.

The apartment is quiet that night, the silence pressing down on you as you sit by the window, staring out at the city lights. You tell yourself you’re not waiting for him, but your phone sits beside you on the windowsill, the screen dark but heavy with possibilities.

It’s almost midnight when the buzz breaks the silence. You glance at the screen, your heart stopping when you see his name.

The message is simple. “Please, can we talk? I miss you…I’m sorry”

[captain039]

PART 2 Heal your hurt

Viktor x reader

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, angst, health issues, mental health issues, light swearing, chubby reader, intimacy, smut, friends to lovers, reader has chronic pain

Previous part <-

“Would you like to come to the lab with me?” The questioned stunned you into last week. You’d been staring at the wall while pouring milk into your cereal lost in thought till Viktors words reached your ears.

“What?” You heard him clearly but your mind doesn’t process it, but he repeats the question all the same.

“Would you like to see the lab?” He rephrases.

“Lab- your lab?” You ask turning to him breakfast forgetting.

“Unless there is another lab then yes my lab” he teases gently but you’re too baffled by the question.

“Lab, right” you mutter.

“Yes- sorry, uh clothes, shoes” you whiz back into your room and change quickly, getting your clothes on in a rush and your shoes breakfast forgotten.

“I’m ready” you smile as Viktor holds the bowl of cereal up to you quirking a small eyebrow. You huff and eat quickly before you go with him to the lab. He’s a man of few words but you’re excited to see his lab even though you’ll have no clue on what’s going on in there it feels like a privilege. When you enter it isn’t what you expected, maybe some microscopes, boilers, those glass jars you can never remember the name of. There’s notes everywhere scattered and stacked, tech and gear over the place a big chalk board with what you assume are equations.

“Morning Viktor” Jayce says back to you both as he leans over the desk.

“Morning Jayce” Viktor says back and walks in you stand by the door a bit unsure till Viktor turns to you and cocks his head for you to follow. He lays down his books and you follow making Jayce turn around at your footsteps. He smiles brightly surprised to see you as he greets you.

“Morning” you say back to him shuffling over to Viktors desk. You don’t want to touch anything half afraid too.

“Come to see where all the brain power flows?” Jayce chuckles leaning against the table arms over his chest casually.

“I don’t know what any of this means” you comment staring at the chalk board.

“Good thing we’re the scientists then” Viktor comments with light sarcasticness that makes you smile. You hang out for a bit asking questions Jayce mainly answers even though you don’t understand half the answers, by lunch Jayce has gone for a food run and you’re nothing the ache in your legs grow worse the longer you stand.

“You can sit” Viktor says tugging the chair beside him out a bit. You sigh in relief mentally and sit down legs relieving.

“You are in pain?” Viktor frowns as he looks to you noticing how you stiffly move your legs and wince.

“It’s fine” you brush off with a small shrug as Jayce comes back with food and drinks. You don’t miss the frown and studying gaze Viktor gives you and it makes you tense so you hide your pain more than before. You eat chatting to Jayce with Viktors imput occasionally before Jayce is pulled away to the council.

“Still can’t believe he’s on the high council” you comment in the quiet room.

“He is a brilliant man” Viktor says and you smile and nod shifting in your seat again to ease the ache in your hips.

“You are still in pain” Viktor comments not even looking at you, like he just knows.

“It’s fine Vik really” you sigh.

“You never call me Vik” he says and you tense a bit, no, no you do not.

“Sorry” you mutter.

“And it is not fine” he turns his chair to face yours his gaze studying like he can see straight through you.

“I know what it is like to hide pain in plain sight” he says and you sadden at the words.

“I’m fine really just slept funny is all” you shrug.

“Give me your leg” he says and you frown at him as he gestures to your left leg.

“I- what-? Ok?” You stutter lifting your leg to his hand. He lifts it into his lap with surprising strength lying your calf across his thighs.

“Viktor i don’t want to hurt you” you say trying to pull your leg back.

“You are not hurting me” he says calmly, gentle hands moving over your calf muscle. You frown a bit but watch as he gently prods against the muscle, your knee and ankle listening to when you hiss or feeling when you tense.

“Up your whole leg?” He asks and you nod a bit flushing when his hands move to your thigh.

“Ah-“ you make a surprised noise recoiling a bit forcing your leg off his lap. Your cheeks a bright red and you’re holding your breath.

“Did I hurt you too much?” He asks frowning with worry and you shake your head still hot.

“I’m fine” you shake your head again. Jayce returns breaking the moment and you’re thankful for the distraction and interruption.

You leave around the afternoon sitting and standing too much. You lie down on your stomach facing the wall as you sigh. You hear the door open and close with a small click of the lock, he’s home early. You hear a call of your name and wonder if you can play it off being asleep but sigh.

“In here” you call and hear the shuffle of feet and soft thump of his cane.

“Did I wake you?” He asks softly and you shake your head.

“No I wasn’t asleep” you answer as he shuffles over and sits on the edge of the bed.

“I realise my actions today were too…personal, I wanted to apologise” he says voice quiet and you feel yourself growing hot again, burying your face into the pillow instead so he doesn’t see your red cheeks.

“It’s fine” you say mumbled into the pillow.

“I noticed your joints are inflamed” he says softly and you sigh and nod.

“This is not news to you” he comments and you shake your head.

“Like you said. Hiding pain in plain sight” you whisper your shoulders sagging as you move your head to the side to breathe again.

“How long?” He asks.

“Five years, they didn’t catch it till I was an adult. Blaming it on growing pains” you mutter softly in explanation. You don’t want to lie to him but you feel guilty for telling him.

“It doesn’t matter now, it’s done, it is what it is” you sit up and sigh cursing the way your hips ache and flare shooting down your legs.

“Thank you for bringing me to your lab today even if I didn’t understand any of it” you chuckle changing the conversation. Viktor sighs but follows with a nod.

“You are welcome” he says quietly.

You don’t sleep that night the throbbing pain in your legs too much, you think about running a hot bath with some salts and oils, you’ve taken about four pain killers now and nothing. You’ve shifted to the couch using the arm rest to elevate your legs a bit jolting when you realise Viktor is still awake.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Viktors soft voice says and you nod.

“Why’re you still up?” You ask watching him wash a dirty mug.

“Work” he says.

“Still in pain?” He asks noticing your position and you brush him off with a shrug. You’ve put walls up, being vulnerable in that way around him feels, wrong, there is nothing wrong physically to look at with your body, not like his, his leg brace, the cane, the back brace he also wears, not that it makes him wrong.

“I know I pushed before too far without asking but…” he walks over to the couch where you lay.

“May I try again?” He nods to your legs you sigh feeling tense as it is.

“I know they’re inflamed Viktor” you don’t mean to snap you really don’t but you’re exhausted, it’s almost 2 am and you’ve gotten no sleep and going out today ruined you and your body’s flared in pain.

“No, not to prod, soothe” he says and you frown soothe how?

“May I?” He nods again and you sigh but move your legs so he can sit down before you awkwardly rest your legs back on his lap again. You feel like you’ll squish him, your size compared to his, you’ve always been a bigger woman, but with Viktor you’re afraid to crush him.

“You’re very tense” he whispers his hands smooth as he gently begins to massage your right calf closest to his stomach, that’s what he meant by soothe, you thought he’d warm them up or something this didn’t cross your mind. Science he’s good at that. Gentle hands with light pressure easing out the inflamed muscles and joints. You’re embarrassed by your prickly leg hair but he doesn’t comment or seem to mind as he runs his hands gently over your calves. He massages around your ankles before going to your knees eyes flicking to you.

“Can I go higher?” He asks and you flush but nod sinking a little deeper into the couch as his hands go to your thighs and gently knead the muscles. You’re wearing pyjama shorts which might as well be underwear with how short they are but it gives him access to your whole and you’re sighing, eyes slipping closed at the feeling of his now warm hands gently kneading your flesh. If he could do this everyday you may marry the man even if he said no you’d still marry him. Your pain doesn’t fully leave but your muscles are relaxed for once without help of medication and Viktor’s hands are warm and slightly rough. You’re in some sort of trance heart beating evenly, breathing evening out, he slows hands resting on your shins.

“You should go to bed, this couch is not good to sleep on” he says voice a little rougher than normal and you have to stop yourself jolting out of the trance you’re in.

“Does it feel better?” He asks looking to you in a small glance and you nod flushing as you sit up.

“Thank you” you mutter embarrassed and get off the couch easier and shuffle to your room.

“Goodnight” you say and close your door before falling on your bed.

“Goodnight… Love” Viktor whispers to himself.

Next part ->

[lyjen]

Behind Closed Doors | Eddie Diaz

Summary: Two years ago, (Y/n) managed to escape her abusive, bad, drug business ex-boyfriend by snitching him. But now, after all she’s been through, he found her. He’s back and filled with rage. He decides to shoot his shot when (Y/n) is babysitting Chris as Eddie’s at work.

Request: @megafandomsxassemble

9-1-1 Masterlist

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

(Y/n) smiled at the sight of Chris fastening towards the shelter where the jaguar lives in the Los Angeles zoo. Eddie’s fingers were intertwined with (Y/n)’s as they walked through the zoo, Eddie pressed his lips against the side of (Y/n)’s head. “It’s nice, seeing Chris happy” (Y/n) said as she glanced over at Eddie, who had his eyes locked on Chris.

“I haven’t seen him this happy in a while.” Eddie said without letting Chris out of his sight. “What about you? You’re happy to be back at work?” (Y/n) couldn’t help but ask.

Since Metro dispatch had been caught fire, Eddie finally got the chance to put on the turnout gear again, and he finally got back to the 118, he seemed happier. But it still would be nice to hear it from himself. “I’m not made for sitting behind a desk, making tweets and calling with journalists. The one eighteen is where I belong.” Eddie started as he now finally glanced back at her.

“I have a job that I love, a kid that I love, and an amazing girlfriend who I also love. So to answer your question: yes. I’m happy.” he continued as he ended his words with a smile he sent her.

They slowly walked closer to Chris, as the sound of a vibrating phone mixed with a ringtone started to fill her eardrums. She let her free hand open her bag, and fish out her phone while Eddie waited for her to decide if she wanted to answer or not.

“It’s Buck” she said as she looked over at Eddie, “Do you mind if I-?” she added as she motioned her head towards the phone. He shook his head, “No, sure.. go ahead. I’ll go and keep Chris some company.” Eddie said as the grip of his hand got looser, and their hands disconnected.

Not even a few seconds later Eddie was going towards Chris, and (Y/n)’s thumb clicked the green button to accept the call. She held her phone against her ear as she greeted her brother.

“Hey sis, I feel like this is a bad time to call, is it?” Buck sounded through the phone, she laughed at his sudden reaction. “No it isn’t, but it’s nice you’re still trying to use your twin abilities. Even though it never worked.” she answered her twin brother through the phone.

The Buckley family didn’t really count on two babies after they tried to save Daniel. But when the doctor checked, they found baby A and B. Another chance to save Daniel, that’s what they thought. But even though Buck was a match to his older brother, the bone marrow cells failed to graft causing a relapse of symptoms one year after the two were born.

“I was just calling to check on you, what are you up to today?” He asked, it was sweet of him to keep on checking on his sister every now and then. Even though they saw each other almost everyday. “Um, Eddie and I took Chris to the zoo. Ever since they’ve renovated it and fixed everything after the black out, he has been begging us to go.” she explained as she slowly scanned the environment she was in and paced back and forth.

“Can’t say no to the boy, can you?” Buck chuckled through the phone, making her laugh again. He knew his twin too well. “Yeah, it’s the puppy eyes he makes that wins me over. I don’t know about Eddie, I think he can handle it better than me.” she explained, as she looked at her feet and back into the scene she was in.

“You okay though? I mean it has been a while since you’ve been with someone since..” Buck stopped finishing his sentence. “You know who..” he added, he wasn’t going to say the name of her ex-boyfriend, it was like his name was cursed. It made her stop pacing around, and close her eyes for a second.

Blake.

That was the name he didn’t want to say or use.

Blake seemed like a good guy, and he was… at least until he had (Y/n) wrapped around his finger. No one knew what happened behind closed doors until (Y/n) managed to get out, and told the truth.

*

Arlington, Texas, US

“I’m sorry we barged into your house like that.” A male voice filled the interrogation room she was in, as he placed a cup of water in front of her. (Y/n) just looked at the man who was standing across from her, while she was sitting in a chair made of metal. Her hair was messy, she was wearing her oversized flannel, she basically looked like shit.

When the silence in the room became louder than the two persons, the man decided to break it, continuing his story. “We’re trying to locate your boyfriend, Blake Dyer.” he continued his last sentence.

Only hearing his name sent a shiver down her spine and her blood ran cold. Of course they were looking for him. Her mind screamed: red flags, red flags when she ever laid eyes on him. But something about him made her heart beat faster. Can you even call that a boyfriend? A guy that abuses you and hits you for every small thing you do wrong?

She swallowed as she looked down to her hands, pushing the fabric of the flannel sleeve over her fingers, hiding her skin, her anxiousness, her being scared for what was going to happen if he would’ve found out if she started talking to cops. What if Blake found out she was here instead of at home? He’d hurt her, not only with words.

She wanted to leave, but part of her desperately wanted to call out for help.

“(Y/n), do you have any idea where we can find him? Did he say anything? Talk to someone? Every little detail could help us.” The man leaned his back against the wall, as he tried to get something out of her.

“I don’t know” she whispered, barely audible. Her eyes were locked on her hands as she fidgeted the flannel fabric between her hands and fingers, everything to avoid eye contact with the man that was across from her. Making the man sigh, she wasn’t saying much, but at least he got something out of her.

“He’s hurting you, isn’t he?” he asked her, and that was the moment she locked eyes with the man immediately. She shook her head as if her life depended on it. Slowly, he stepped closer, “The bruises on your arms and the wound on the side of your head are telling me a different story.” he said, looking into her eyes. The fast reaction to his question, and the fear in her eyes spoke volumes.

She wanted to nod, so badly to the question he asked before, tell him everything she knew about him. But, what if they couldn’t find him and he found her instead?

“We can help you, (Y/n). Get you out of the city, state, anywhere, somewhere safe.” he said, as he couldn’t step any further forward because of the table. She didn’t know where to look, but when he told her that, she was intrigued.

This was it, this was her ticket out of the shit hole she had been in for months, unable to escape. Blake had been telling her she couldn’t leave, despite that, she had tried. Multiple times, but somehow every attempt, he found her. At some point he even broke her arm, and completely knocked her out.

“But we can only do that, if you help us.” he added as he moved past the table and crouched down to be on the same height as her. He could see she was thinking, weighing the pro’s and con’s, the thousand scenarios in her head.

“I can give you some time to think about it.” he offered, but when he said that she shook her head like she was trying to give herself a concussion. “No-” she said a bit too loud, as she cleared her throat. “I’ll help, but you have to promise me that he can never find me.” she answered.

The man pressed his lips into a thin line, trying to tell her without any words that she was doing the right thing. “You help us, and we’ll help you. I promise.” the man held out a hand. For a second she hesitated, but she pushed her arm through the sleeve from the flannel, and gave the man a hand.

He gave her a small nod, “So what can you tell us about Blake Dyer?”

She told them everything.

*

It wasn’t until a loud sigh left her mouth, when she remembered that name. “I’m.. okay” she told Buck through the phone. She had been going to therapy a lot since she fled from Texas and came to California. The police had helped her get out of Arlington, and out of Texas. This whole entire story about Blake ended about two years ago.

And that’s how she ended up in Los Angeles, luckily she didn’t end up living on the couch at her brother’s place. But a small home she rents with help from the Texas police.

“Are you sure?” Buck’s voice sounded concerned as he heard her voice through the phone. She was happy her brother was checking on her and her feelings, something they both had missed when she was with her ex in Texas.

“Yes.. Buck, it’s not like you have to check up on me every time you drop that name. He’s in the past, I’m not in Texas anymore.” She told him she was okay and she didn’t lie, but that weird tingly feeling inside of her stomach every now and then when someone dropped that name, wouldn’t go away.

“Okay, okay.. excuse me for being actually concerned about my sister.” Buck reacted at her words. “But tell me, things between you and Eddie..?” he continued, he wanted to make sure she wouldn’t over step her own boundaries, not that he didn’t trust Eddie, but she was wounded, hurt. And she took the time to heal, but it was scary for her to just step back into something new, when she didn’t really know what true love was. How do you know if you can truly trust someone? How do you know if he’s the one, when someone before him completely broke you mentally and physically?

“We are fine, we talked together, and both agreed we are going to take things my speed.” she said softly, as she nodded to herself that she was doing good. “Baby steps” she added to the sentence. She couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Chris and Eddie being together, looking at the information sign of the animal.

“Oh he better, because I swear if he pushes you, making you go over boundaries, I’ll beat his ass, maybe even kill him.” She laughed at her brother’s words, he was determined to keep his sister safe now. He missed the signs back then, and he wasn’t going to let anything happen to her now that they had found each other again. Her eyes were now focussed on her feet as she turned on her heels, continuing pacing through the small part of the zoo she was.

Her eyes wandered from her feet, up to the connected paths of the zoo. But instantly, her stomach turned at the sight of one of the ten maybe hundreds of people walking through the zoo. It was like when you suddenly hear your name being called by a teacher to speak in front of the class, when you’re incredibly shy.

Know that feeling? That’s exactly the one she had at this point.

Maybe she was starting to hallucinate after he was brought up again, and this was all playing in her head. A guy, who looked just like Blake, walked by. Maybe it was Blake? No, it couldn’t be. Maybe some kind of döppleganger? Blake couldn’t be here, he was in prison for at least seven years with all the evidence they found back then.

Only two years had passed. This wasn’t possible. This had to be a look alike.

The questions were instantly running through her mind as her brother kept on talking to her on the phone.

The shock of seeing some döppleganger, made her instantly look in another direction. But when all of those questions were running through her mind, and she tried to answer part of them, being sure that it wasn’t him, she looked back to double check.

But he wasn’t there. He was gone. Was she imagining things?

Panic was starting to creep into her chest and mind, as she looked around to see if she could find the guy again.

“You should see Chris-” Buck was telling his sister about how Chris is starting to become a real architect because of one of the projects he needed to make for school. But (Y/n) wasn’t listening anymore. “Hey Buck, I’ll call you back okay?” she said, and lowered the phone in her hand. “What? oh yeah, sure-” His voice was audible as the phone made its way down. Before Buck could end his sentence, he got hung up.

She shoved her phone back into her purse not even a second after she ended the call as she fastened her steps towards Eddie who was still with Chris.

“Eddie?” The sound of (Y/n)’s voice sounded through his eardrums. Eddie could tell only by hearing her voice that something was up, her breathing was fastened. He glanced at her as he looked to his side, she seemed upset.

Eddie turned himself towards her, fully facing her now as he had his right hand on the shoulder of his son.

“Hey, is something wrong? Who called-” A worried look was spread over Eddie’s face as he looked at the girl, trying to keep her cool, but it almost looked like she could have a panic attack any moment now. “Can I borrow you for a second?” she asked, as loud as a whisper.

She didn’t want to start spilling her guts when Chris was next to them, trying to enjoy the zoo animals in the area. Eddie nodded, “Sure.. just one second.” he said as he held up his index finger. He turned to Chris who was still fascinated by the animal on the other side. “Hey bud, we’ll be right there if you need us. Stay here for me, okay?” he said as he leaned his head next to Chris’.

“Okay” Chris simply said as his eyes were focussed on the animal, practically drowning in the sight or maybe drowning in fascination. Eddie gave his son a small pat on his shoulder as they took a few steps back, not too far away from Chris, but far enough so he wouldn’t hear the conversation.

She stopped as she placed her face in the palm of her hands and sighed. Eddie stopped in front of her, as he waited for her to start the conversation she wanted to have so badly. After a few counts she disconnected her hands from her face. “Maybe I’m hallucinating, or maybe I am not and.. ” she gasped as she avoided eye contact with him.

“And you’re probably going to say I sound insane.” she rattled as her mouth was moving faster than her mind. “I’ll decide for myself if you sound insane. Now, what’s wrong?” He asked softly, as he grabbed one of her hands and rubbed his thumb on the inside of her hand, trying to calm her down.

“I was on the phone with Buck, he was checking in on me like almost every other day. But then, his name popped up again. And I… thought I saw him.” she didn’t rattle this time, it was still a little bit faster than a usual sentence, but the touch of Eddie helped her calm her nerves a bit.

His eyebrows furrowed at her words, “Who?” She kept referring to “him”, Eddie knew all about her story from the beginning to the end and all the details in between. “Blake” she whispered, as she suddenly looked around like somebody was going to shoot her at any second now. “What? I thought he was in jail? And in another state, right?” He said.

“But I swear I saw him standing right there.” (t/n) said and pointed at the exact same location she saw him earlier. Eddie’s eyes follow her finger as he scans the entire scene they were in, it was like he was hunting for monsters in Chris’ room when he was younger. “(Y/n)..” her name fell off his lips, as he looked back at her, his thumb still tracing over the palm of her hand.

“You think I'm insane don’t you?” She concluded before he could say anything else, as she pulled her hand from his touch.

“No, no, no that isn’t what I’m saying.” Eddie Saïd as soon as she turned her back to him and placed her hand on her forehead. “I just-..” Eddie continued, stumbling. How was he going to say this? He needed her to get out of her own head.

She turned back around, facing her boyfriend again. “Listen, he’s behind bars for at least seven years, that’s what the officer told you back then. Only two years have passed now, and besides that, he’s not going to be able to find you. They covered your tracks back there and they knew what they were doing.” He told her as she was still a bit overwhelmed and stressed.

She wasn't focussed on anything he told her, at least that's what it looked like. But she was listening. Eddie’s hands reached out for her shoulders, as he placed both his hands on it.

“You’re still processing your trauma, and you will be maybe for your entire life. Hallucinations are part of that too. Believe me, I still have them too from the army and it sucks.” Her eyes were locked onto his as his words entered her ears. One of the hands that was on her shoulders, moved from her shoulder to her own hand.

He gently grabbed her hand, “But I’m here with you. I’m real.” He said, and placed her hand onto his own chest, as one last attempt to calm her down.

It's quiet for a moment as (Y/n) didn’t know what to do. “Eddie.. I-” she stumbled as Eddie stopped her mid sentence. “Just focus on my heartbeat okay?” He said as she nodded.

It looked weird for every single person passing by, but yet it did something calming to her. Her breathing became slowly normal, and the panic that was rushing through her veins left her body. “Good?” Eddie softly asked as he noticed her body became less and less tense.

She let out one last loud sigh, with her eyes closed as the sound of Eddie’s voice entered her ears, “You’re safe.”

______

(Y/n) pressed the freshly washed shirt to her chest as she folded it and placed the t-shirt in the laundry basket. The tv was playing in the background as she continued folding the other pieces of just washed and dried laundry, that was on one big pile lying next to her on the couch.

She glanced at the clock in the living room. It was getting late, Eddie was on shift since early in the morning, and wasn’t coming home until the next morning: he was on a twenty four hour shift.

While Eddie was on shift, (Y/n) agreed to stay over at Eddie’s place to look after Chris. (Y/n) didn’t mind, it gave her the time and place to get to know his son when he wasn’t around. Sometimes Chris and (Y/n) would play video games together, and other times they would have a movie night.

But that wasn’t the case right now, Chris was upstairs doing his homework as (Y/n) was doing some chores. It made her feel useful, she didn’t just want to sit her ass down and scroll through her phone or watch trash television.

(Y/n) fished a navy blue t-shirt from the pile, as she tried to undo the shirt from the ball form. But the second she wanted to fold the t-shirt, a loud sound sounded from what she guessed was the kitchen. She was startled by the sudden sound and she was standing upright, old habits.

She had spent years being wary of every little sound from outside. That’s why she had cameras installed outside her home, and a 360 camera inside her home. Just to give her a feeling of security.

She scanned the entire scene she was in, and her eyebrows furrowed as another sound was coming from the exact same location. It couldn’t be Chris, right? If he came down stairs she should’ve noticed it. Cautiously she made her way towards the staircase, with every step she took, she scanned the environment, so she could see any changes if there were any.

When she reached the start of the stairs, she cleared her throat, “Chris you’re doing okay?” she asked not too loudly, she needed to know if he was upstairs or not. Her soft voice sounded through the house.

“I just started with math homework” Chris answered her question. She felt the anxiety rising on the inside of her body, Chris wasn’t the one she was hearing. It was something else. It made her stumble over her words as she tried to stay calm towards Chris. “Oh okay, If you need any help, just ask.” She told him as she felt her hands starting to sweat. “I will, thank you.”

She let out a deep breath as she made her way towards the kitchen, trying to find the source of the sound. (Y/n) stopped at one of the walls that were connected to the kitchen, placing her shoulder against the wall as she peeked along the wall, into the kitchen.

All of the curtains were closed in the kitchen, and the doors and windows were closed and locked. But her eye fell on the shadow that was visible on the backdoor of Eddie’s house. The curtain was right in front of it, but it looked like someone was trying to break into the house. Someone was trying to pick the lock.

(Y/n) fished her phone from her pocket, as she started searching for the app to see the live feed of the camera in the backyard Eddie had installed. He might not have been a fan of camera’s, and smart equipment, but it was important for him that his girlfriend felt safe in his house. And if that meant that Eddie had to install one or two camera’s around the house, he’d push his own feelings aside and did that for her.

She selected the app and waited for it to get the feed. The sound of someone trying to pick the lock was still continuing as she opened the live feed of the camera. At first, she couldn’t see anything since the person was wearing a black hood. But then the person turned around and for one quick second.

(Y/n) paused the infra red camera and quickly started to investigate the person that was in the backyard. She zoomed in, but her heart dropped as soon as she saw the tattoo’s on the guy’s hand. The hand was covered in some weird wave tattoo, and the other hand were a compilation of multiple smaller tattoos.

Blake. He had found her, and was here to get his revenge.

Her hand immediately was placed on her mouth as she tried so hard not to make any sound. She had to get to Chris, and get him to hide. She had to call for help. She didn’t even think, and sprinted towards the staircase she was just a minute ago. She had to multitask at this point.

Just as she stepped onto the first step of the stairs, she tapped Eddie’s contact and placed the phone against her ear. She rushed up the stairs as she impatiently waited for Eddie to pick up his phone. But she gets send to voicemail. “Hey this is Eddie-” a grunt left her mouth as she clicked the red button to stop the call. “Fuck” she muttered under her breath.

He must be on a call, that’s why he wasn’t answering her.

She looked to her left as she saw Chris, his bedroom light shining into the hallway. Soundless as possible she tried to make her way to his room. She stepped into his room and closed the door behind her. Making Chris look confused at her as he dropped his pencil. “Chris, I need you to do something for me.” she said as softly as she could.

“What is it?” he asked her as he watched her move through his room looking for a good place to hide. “I need you to hide with me.” she said, as she opened the folding doors in his room, opening his closet where his clothes hung.

“What?” Chris asked then, looking like she had gone insane. “Listen, I don’t have much time to explain. But someone is breaking into the house.” (Y/n) explained as she came closer to him and lowered herself to his height. “I know it sounds scary, but I’ll be with you the entire time.” she continued.

Chris nodded, “Okay” he said as he stood up from the chair and (Y/n) assisted him to get into the closet. Chris sat down in the corner of the closet as (Y/n) quickly, but soundless tried to turn off the lights. Like a jumpscare, her heart dropped when she heard the door downstairs click open.

When she managed to turn off the lights, she unlocked her phone that was still in her hand, and she tapped on Buck’s contact. Pressing the phone against her ear as she took place next to Chris, and closed the folding doors.

“Come on.. Pick up.” she mumbled as she grabbed a dark blanket out of one of the bags that were on the ground next to (Y/n) and placed it one handedly over Chris.

Eddie grabbed his phone from his pocket, as he let his turnout coat slide off his shoulders. and placed it back on the rack where he just had placed his helmet in too. “That fire was a beast” Eddie said as Buck finally made his way to the rack too and placed his helmet on it. “Another reminder why you should not infact store fireworks in your garage.” Buck laughed as a ringtone filled their ears.

Making Eddie check his phone, to see if anyone was trying to contact him. “Oh- (Y/n) tried to call me a few minutes ago.” he said as he waited for Buck to get his phone.

Buck immediately fished his phone out of his pocket as he felt the vibration in his right pocket where his phone was. He held his phone in his hand as he looked at the name who was trying to reach him. “Speaking of the devil” Buck laughed as he accepted the call and placed his phone to his ear.

“Buck. He found me. He’s here.” she blurted out in a whisper as softly as possible, hoping that the tv downstairs would compensate for the soft voice that came from the closet.

“Wow, wow, wow, slow down. What’s happening?” Buck asked as he tried to focus on his sister’s soft voice through the phone. The sobs through the words weren’t helping either. But the sound of her voice, and the cries, gave him a bad feeling the second he placed his phone to his ear.

“Blake is in the house. I’ve got Chris. Please. Get here now. I don't-” she sobbed as she placed her own hand in front of her mouth, trying to suppress the sound of her sobs.

The name he hoped to never hear ever again, fell off her lips, and that’s when he realized. He had found her. The back of Buck’s hand immediately flew against Eddie’s chest as he just looked confused. “Blake is in the house?” Buck repeated his name as he wanted some kind of confirmation. But he could only hear her muffled, quiet sobs and cries.

Buck’s mind was running a thousand miles an hour as he thought of all the kinds of scenarios that were going down right now. “Okay, (Y/n) I need you to hide and stay on the line until we get there okay?” He said, looking at Eddie as he nodded.

Eddie had a fire burning in his eyes as soon as he heard the name Blake and his location. She had been right about one week ago when they were in the Los Angeles zoo and she almost had a panic attack. Her abusive ex-boyfriend was back, and from what Eddie knew, about her telling the truth to the cops. He was sure Blake was back to get revenge.

His hands balled into fists as he squeezed them so tight together, his nails actually almost punctured through the skin on the inside of his hands as he made a sprint down the lower level of the station. He immediately aimed for Bobby, “Bobby I need to borrow the BC.” he said while thunder was projected onto his face.

Bobby was just looking at his phone, checking for any messages as Eddie stood right in front of him and dropped those words. And Eddie wasn’t asking. “Eddie what’s going on?” Bobby asked him as a frown appeared on his face. What ever just happened in those one or two minutes of time that he didn’t see the much younger firefighter, he went from neutral, to all worked up.

“Family emergency” he just answered, not getting into the details too much. Because even Eddie didn’t know what he was going to do if he’d get the chance to get his hands on Blake. But there was this fire burning on the inside of him, why was Blake back? Why couldn’t he just move on? Hell, why was he even out in the first place?

When Buck came rushing towards the two, Bobby could see the panic in his eyes. The kind he had never seen before. Sure he had seen Buck scared before, but this was different. Bobby switched looks between Buck and Eddie, “fine take the BC” he said, and not even a second after he finished his answer, they were already running towards the car.

“(Y/n) Hold on okay! We’re on our way!” Buck’s voice sounded through the phone as she pressed the phone closer to her ear, she pressed her lips tighter on each other as she heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she felt her heart trying to jump free from her chest.

She had to calm herself down, she didn’t want him to give away their hiding spot. And she certainly didn’t want to be the reason he found them, if something were to happen to Chris, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever be able to forgive herself. A warm hand was connected to hers as she closed her eyes for a second and looked down to her lap, trying to focus on her breathing.

(Y/n) glanced to her side, it was too dark to see, but she was sure Chris his hand was placed on hers, he was trying to help her. She couldn’t help but smile weakly through her tears, her phone was still connected to her ear and she heard Eddie was calling 9-1-1 while Buck was still on the phone with her. He knew she couldn’t talk back, but every now and then he told her their location, or to hold on, anything to soothe her.

She muted the audio from Buck and Eddie and placed the phone onto the floor in between Chris and herself. (Y/n) let her hand slide through Chris’ hair and pressed a kiss onto the top of his head, trying to soothe him and herself. She didn’t dare to say anything.

It was too quiet on the first floor they were on. But the second she thought that, she could hear the door of Eddie’s room next door open harshly, making the doorknob bouncing into the door. Followed by something made of glass falling down to the ground. She guessed that were the photo’s Eddie had in his room.

Every frame that fell into pieces made her flinch at the sound. The photo’s probably made him even more angrier. He had been in prison for the last two years, while she was just continuïng with her life, trying to rebuild it. While he had been suffering.

“(Y/n)!” Blake’s voice called out, “I know you’re here!” he added, he sounded aggressive as his words were being followed by another shatter of glass and a loud bang. The way her name left his mouth made a shiver roll down her spine, and made her even more terrified. She hadn’t heard his voice for months, years, but him screaming, made it even more real.

Secretly, she hoped this all was a terrible nightmare and she’d wake up any second by now. But no matter how hard she tried, the dream, or nightmare wouldn’t end. “You really think you can hide from me?” he laughed as (Y/n) heard the door open even more closer to them. He had opened Chris’ door. He was in his room.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” he continued calling out as (y/n) could hear the heavy footsteps walking over the creaking wood. Her hand was pressed over her mouth as she soundless helped chris underneath the blanket. Tears were blurring her vision, as she heard the footsteps coming closer and closer.

Just when the footsteps seemed to leave the side of the closet they were in, she inaudibly let out her breath she was holding. She looked at the small ball Chris was, almost morphing into the wall. He was doing so good, he was such a brave kid.

But she felt her heart drop as soon as she felt a grip around her ankle, and before she knew what was going on, she got dragged from the closet. A high pitched yelp left her mouth as she got dragged through Chris' room. “Missed me? Bitch.” he groaned as he kept on pulling her leg. (Y/n) tried to kick her free foot against his body to let her ankle go.

They left the room and the second she saw where he was heading, she grabbed the first wooden baluster from the staircase to stop him from pulling her down the stairs. She held on like this was her lifeline, as she felt her body almost split into two as Blake kept on pulling on her leg.

She screamed as she used all of her strength to keep a hold on the wooden baluster. But then, Blake dropped her body by letting go of her ankle.

The second he did this, she tried to get up. With emphasis on tried, because the moment she got onto her knees, a fist full of hair was being grabbed. The tears welled up spontaneously in her eyes as she felt the pain on her head. “Look at you now with your oh so perfect little life.” He said, as he slowly came closer to her face.

He glanced at the photos that were hanging on the walls of the small hallway. “I see you got yourself a new boyfriend, but I got some news for you.” he laughed as he yanked her hair down even more down, so had to look at the pictures on the wall and was facing Blake at the same time.

(Y/n)’s eyes watched Blake’s hand reach down to his pocket. Further than that, she couldn’t see since he was forcing her to look at his face. But a fast high pitched sound filled her ears. The sound of something metal.

“You’re leaving him.” he continued his sentence as he admired the object in his hand for a moment, keeping it out of her line of sight just a little bit longer. Tears were streaming down her face, mixed emotions, the feeling of her hair being pulled from her skull, the fact that she was facing her ex that she had betrayed by snitching him to the cops.

She was gasping for a breath as she tried to keep her emotions under control. She could smell his awful breath, as his face came close enough. He hushed her cries, “Ssh, it’s okay. I don’t want to end this right away. I just want to enjoy this moment a little bit more.” he said with a smile and a laugh. Blake placed the sharp metal he just fished from his pocket underneath her eye.

It was a knife.

Blake used the blade of the knife to wipe away one of her tears that were tracing down her cheeks. Making her heartbeat in her chest even more. “You took everything from me.” he started as he investigated the tear on his blade, mixed with some small hairs from her skin you’d be barely able to see with the naked eye.

“And now.. It’s time you pay it back.” he added as he scanned her entire body once more. “Only better..” Blake ended his words with a whisper and folded the knife again and placed into his pocket. He wanted to let her suffer even more than she already had now and he wasn’t just going to kill her off right here and now. Not when the party was just getting started.

Her lips were pressed into a thin line as she looked at Blake full with anger. She didn’t answer his words. But she couldn’t help but spit into his face, she had to get out of his grip. The hairs were starting to hurt even more and more. The spit splashed onto his face, and without saying anything, he forced her onto her legs, and yanked her head into one of the photo frames that were hanging on the wall.

His hands were still tangled into her hair as he banged her another time into a second photoframe. Blood was now dripping from her nose as the second time her nose touched the glass first instead of her forehead. “You thought you could run from me hm? You dirty snitch.” he groaned, as he grabbed her chin and cheeks with his free hand. Squeezing it like she was a little baby.

The blood from her nose was making its way down to her lips. She could taste the iron as she felt her entire world spinning in front of her eyes. He roughly pulled her on her hair once more and gave her a hard push, making her lose her balance.

(Y/n) tried to get a grip of the balustrade of the staircase, to stop herself from falling down. But she couldn’t. It felt like she was free falling for a second, but then, her back connected with the wooden stairs harshly. The moment she felt herself falling down the stairs, all she could think of, was protecting her face.

She held her lower arms in front of her face, trying to keep it from getting hurt even more. Her body harshly fell down every single step of the staircase. She could practically feel the bruises start to form themselves onto her body as gravity finally let go of her body.

Face down to the ground, belly touching the ground, she opened her eyes. It felt like she just got out of a merry-go-around from the playground when she was younger. Her entire world was spinning, and it almost made her vomit. She groaned as she slowly tried to pushed herself into the table pose like yoga.

Her ears were ringing but she could hear slowly, harsh, loud footsteps that were approaching her. Just when she thought she had the energy to stand into the table pose, a heavy foot was placed onto her back, pushing her right back where she was. Almost like she was in the army and the trainer wasn’t having it. Except, this wasn’t the army, this was Blake. The ex boyfriend who wanted her dead.

She gasped as her body fell flat onto the floor again. She just felt him making a small circle around her. But then, the side of her body was hit by a sharp, deep, pain. He kicked his foot into her side like she was a football. Making (Y/n) start coughing, and rolling automatically onto her side. (Y/n) let out an ear deafening scream as she tried to soothe the pain by pressing her hand onto the spot.

Nothing else left her mouth but groans of pain. Blake just let her suffer for a few more seconds as he kicked her once more, this time hitting her entire lower torso. “I hope snitching on me was worth it.” he said as he pushed her weakly, in pain body, so she was now on her back.

It felt like her head could pop off her body within a snap of a finger. Her eyelids were heavy, as she looked through a small gap to keep her eyes open. He stepped over her body, standing over her with one foot on each side of her body.

Blake crouched down above her as he grabbed a fist full of her shirt, pulling her partly up from the ground. When her eyes were met by his face again, she felt a raging fire inside of her, an instinct of survival.

She started to push and kick her way out of the position, she was so close to giving up. But felt like she didn’t do enough. She wanted to badly to poke her fingers into his eyes, but before she even touched his face, he roughly grabbed both her arms and pinned them down to the wooden floor.

She was too weak for this, why was it that she was so afraid to fight back? Everytime she heard his voice, it made her froze into her position wherever she was. She couldn’t say anything, couldn’t move. She just froze.

Blake let go of one of her arms as he moved from her arm to her neck, and squeezed her airway shut with every single piece of energy he had left in his hand. “You put me in jail..” he mumbled as his fist turned red around her neck.

The second hand left her other arm, and assisted in blocking her airway. “I’ll put you in your coffin.” he added. (Y/n)’s hands were trying to get between the skin of her neck and his hands. But he was way too strong.

Dots were dancing around her eyes as she gasped for a single breath. She was kicking her feet in agony and her face was slowly turning red, and going from red towards blue. She could feel herself fading away.

But then, the grip around her throat loosened as she saw through the little space of her eye lids, Buck and Eddie pushing him stomach first down to the ground. She didn’t have a clue what was happening as her senses almost shut down.

She couldn’t hear anything clearly as she was gasping for a breath, and this time it did enter her lungs. (Y/n) coughed at the dry air entering her airway as she rolled onto her side tightening her arms around her stomach. Everything in her body hurted.

(Y/n) was in so much pain, she didn’t even see Athena enter the room as she arrested Blake. The only thing she could hear vaguely was her name falling off Eddie’s lips. She saw his black work shoes and the blue trousers coming closer to her as she just kept on crying out in pain.

Eddie felt her screams and cries go through his marrow and bones. It made shiver roll down his spine as he turned on his heels and looked at his girl, all curled up on the ground.

He didn’t know where to look. Her head was full with little scratches and blood, and her nose looked like it was broken. Those were the visible details he could see as he stood there, frozen.

Everything was happening in slow motion, her cries, Athena escorting Blake out as he noticed Buck running up the stairs.

Something happened inside of Eddie’s brain, making him get out of his own brain he was locked in for a minute, and he placed his knees on the ground, next to (Y/n). “(Y/n)?” Eddie’s words came out of his mouth like he was on the edge of crying. He never wanted this to happen to her. To anyone.

It was a horrible sight to witness. He pressed his lips into a thin line to suppress the emotions he felt as he looked at her.

(Y/n) didn’t want to let go of her stomach, it did give her some kind of pain relief. But the second Eddie kneeled next to her, not knowing what to do with his hand, he grabbed one of her hands as the other one remained on her stomach.

“I-I couldn’t..” she stumbled through her sobs.

Eddie was afraid to even touch her, hell, he was even afraid to move her at this point. It was like the medic inside of Eddie had left his body, he didn’t know what to do.

Maybe this is what Bobby usually meant on scene by: you can’t work on your family. He never felt this before, not even with Shannon when she basically died in his arms.

A small sob left his lips as he placed one hand on (Y/n)’s forehead, “It’s okay..” he whispered, he didn’t mean it to come out like a whisper. But he couldn’t control it. “You did.. so good.” he added, he had to push out the words.

A feeling of guilt spread itself through Eddie’s body as he took in the picture right in front of him, once more. What if he stayed home? Maybe this wouldn’t have happened, or maybe it still did, but then he’d be there to protect the both of them, the people he loved.

He pressed a kiss on the back of her hand, trying to soothe her. “I-I..” she continued to stumble, but when Eddie let his eyes wander from their hands to her face, he could see (Y/n) was fading away.

Her eyes were trying to shut down, like she was falling asleep in front of the tv. “No, no, no. Hey, (Y/n) I know you’re tired.. but you have to stay awake.” he said as he gently tapped her on her cheek to keep her awake. Her eyes just slowly opened again.

He could tell she was having trouble with keeping herself conscious. Quick enough, her eyes were trying to close again, she nodded “I know” she mumbled under her breath. “I’m just..-” she continued mumbling, “tired? I know mi amor.. I know.” Eddie finished her words, the voice of him sounded in the back of her head. But Eddie could feel his heart skip a beat when he saw her head tilt to the side.

“(Y/n)?” Eddie’s voice was filled with terror and fear as he watched his girlfriend’s head tilt to the side, losing consciousness. Her name fell off his lips multiple times as he tried gently to wake her up again. His hands moved to her face, tapping against her skin. But there was no movement.

“Don’t do this to me!” words fell off his lips, more like a yell. He pressed his fingers against her neck to feel her pulse. It was racing like she had run a marathon and dropped to the ground. But that wasn’t the case.

Placed his face next to her mouth, he felt oxygen entering and leaving her mouth. She was still breathing.. for now. The medic inside of Eddie had to come back to think clearly. He needed to help her now that the paramedics weren’t here yet.

He could still hear her voice in his head, complaining about her abdomen. And with that thought in his head, he grabbed the lower part of her t-shirt and lifted it. Eddie’s eyes were locked onto the swollen abdomen mixed with a bloody red spot.

She was bleeding internally.

The shock was written all over his face as he felt a piece on the inside of him break down. “No, no, no..” he mumbled as he pulled the shirt even higher, to examine her even further. Her chest wasn’t as bad as her lower part. But when Eddie pushed her gently to her side, to catch a glimpse of her back, he stopped breathing for a second.

Her back was filled with bruises. “Where is that ambulance for fuck sake!” Eddie’s voice sounded through the hallway as he didn’t even dare to get his eyes off (Y/n).

“Come on (Y/n), don’t do this to me..” he mumbled as he looked at the unconscious face of his girl. “We didn’t have enough time.”

______

Eddie felt uncomfortable walking down the stark hospital hallway. He could hear his own shoes clapping faintly against the white perfect polished floor. He hated hospitals with his entire heart, they were full of memories he’d rather forget. (Y/n) was in the same hospital where Shannon passed away a few years back.

He opened the door to her room, as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Eddie paused for a second, taking in the environment around him, scanning the room. His eyes fell on (Y/n), motionless on the hospital bed. The only thing that was sounding through the room were the machines beeping softly, monitoring her vitals.

She was still alive, even though she barely made it to the hospital in time.

Eddie cleared his throat and took in a deep breath as he stepped closer. She had fought so hard, for herself but even more to keep Chris safe.

Eventually he sat down in the chair by her bed, his fingers gripping the armrests like they were the only things holding him together. He had so many things to say, but yet, no words were leaving his mouth.

He sighed loudly, “Mi amor, it’s me.” he said softly. He wanted to be strong, but the second he started talking his entire voice broke down. “I’m so sorry.” he added, as he placed one hand on his mouth, trying to keep himself from sobbing even more.

“I'm sorry I couldn’t protect you.” he continued his words. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “You have to wake up.” he sobbed as tears were starting to run down his face. “You can't leave, not now. Not like this.”

His mind replayed everything, from the moment he barged into the house together with Buck, tackling Blake. To the moment where he held her hand in the ambulance, almost losing her.

She coded in the ambulance. Her heart stopped, and Eddie couldn’t do anything. He just sat there, crying, on the small bench of the ambulance, looking at someone else to try and get her rhythm back.

The compressions went on and on, it felt like hours. They were still doing compressions on her when they rolled her into the ER, leaving Eddie with so many unanswered questions.

But they got her rhythm back, eventually. The doctors told him that she had an emergency surgery, that she was in critical condition. Leaving a hole inside of him.

Even though every single person in the room told him to go home, get a shower, get something to eat, he refused. He needed to be here when she woke up.

It has been days after the accident, her vitals were good, so the doctors decided to take her off the ventilator. He hasn’t been home in days, while Chris was staying with his abuela switching every now and then with Buck.

Even the nurses couldn’t get Eddie out of the room. The only reason he’d leave the room is to go to the toilet or get some food in the awful hospital cafeteria.

Eddie reached out for her hand, carefully he grabbed her hand, avoiding the IV line that was taped to her wrist. “There’s so much I haven’t said.” He started, “so many things I want to do with you.” He stayed focussed on their hands, desperate to feel some kind of reaction. Even if it was just a small squeeze.

His voice cracked as he shut his eyes tightly. Trying to get rid of the tears. “Chris needs you. Buck needs you. I need you.” his voice choked with emotion as he pressed her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss onto her skin.

“Chris has been asking about you..” “You promised him last week to take him to the cinema, remember? To see that new Marvel movie. You’re not going to break that promise, are you?”

“Because I think Chris would get upset when I go with him, I still don’t understand what happened to Captain America.” he let out a shaky breath as a small laugh left his mouth. The marvel movies was their thing, Chris and (Y/n).

Eddie let go of her hand as he leaned back, running a hand over his face again. The room was too quiet, the beeping of the monitors too loud in his ears.

He let out a shaky breath and stood up, starting to pace through the small room. He wasn’t used to this, standing by, powerless.

The soft creak of the door made Eddie come out of his own mind. He glanced over his shoulder, and that’s when he saw Christopher standing there with Buck on his side. Buck’s hand was placed on Chris’ shoulder as they stood in the doorframe.

"Chris?" Eddie said his name filled with confusion. What was he doing here? He was supposed to be with Buck, at home, gaming or doing his homework. "What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be at home." He asked as he switched looks between Buck and Chris.

Chris entered the room with Buck slowly following behind him. “I had to come. I need to see her.” He said, determined as he passed his dad. Eddie followed his son, as he made his way to the bedside of (Y/n).

Eddie’s expression was filled with confusion as he looked at Buck. “I’m sorry. I couldn't stop him.” Buck apologized. As they looked at Chris who was looking at (Y/n), lying unconscious in the bed.

Buck had been here everyday just like Maddie, checking on (Y/n), but also checking on their brother in law.

“Chris, you're not supposed to be in here. There aren’t kids allowed on the ICU.” Eddie told him as he folded his arms over each other.

“I don’t care.” Chris said as he switched looks from his dad to (Y/n). “She’s my friend too, dad. And I need to tell her something” he continued determined as he looked at her lifeless in the hospital bed he was standing next to.

Eddie wanted to argue, but when he saw the look in his son’s eyes made him sigh. He shrugged as he shook his head, he wasn’t going to be able to change his mind either. “Fine, but just for a minute.” He said as he kept his arms crossed.

Chris nodded as he looked at (Y/n) for a second, “(Y/n), it’s me. Christopher.” He said as he placed his hand onto her hand.

It was hard seeing and hearing his own son talking to her, but he used one hand to cover his mouth.

“I know you’re really hurt right now, but… you have to get better. You promised me you’d teach me how to make those brownies you always make. And you don’t break promises.” Chris said, making Eddie pressing his lips together into a thin line. Fighting the tears that were already streaming down his face.

“And.. because you make my dad smile, he doesn’t smile like that for anyone. You make him happy, so you have to come back.” Christopher continued, as slowly his voice grew more quiet by the word.

“You can’t leave.” He ended his words as he gave her hand a slight squeeze. He didn’t want to hurt her any more than she already had.

The room was quiet again when Chris had left the room and Buck took Eddie’s son back home. Eddie sat in the chair next to her bed, his head resting on his hand. As his eyes were heavy, like he could fall asleep any moment.

The constant beeps of the machines that were monitoring (Y/n)’s vitals were sounding through his ears. Eddie hadn’t slept in days, except for some power naps, but you really couldn’t call those a goodnight sleep.

“Chris has been making you drawings, he said he’s going to bring you one tomorrow.” Eddie said as a small smile appeared on his face at the thought. His voice sounded rough, must been the lack of sleep.

Eddie pushed himself forward, brushing his fingers across her hand. “I’m sure he will not stop making new drawings until you wake up. So you better wake up soon or he’ll use them to wallpaper your room.” He added as a small laugh left his mouth.

He stared at the monitors, that was the only response he got. He sighed as he leaned back into the chair again, this was going to be just another day like the past ones.

But then, there was movement.

It was so silent in the room, Eddie could hear the change in ambience. (Y/n)’s fingers twitched against the blanket. The sound of her skin moving over the fabric made him stand up next to her bedside immediately.

“(Y/n)?” He breathed as he wrapped his hand around hers. Her eyelids fluttered open weakly.

“Hey, (Y/n) it’s me.” He whispered with a trembling voice. “I’m right here baby”

Her eyes opened, unfocused, but then her eyes locked on him. Confusion written all over her face, her lips parting slightly as she wanted to talk.

"Hey," he said gently, leaning closer. "You’re safe." He continued as he tried to read her face.

“Chris?” her voice barely above a whisper.

Relief was written over his face, as he couldn’t help to let out a small laugh. Of course, that was the one person she immediately thought of. She kept him safe at all costs. “He’s safe. Blake’s back where he belongs.”

Tears were pouring down his cheeks, but this time it wasn’t sadness. Pure happiness. Relieve. “Jesus, (Y/n), you scared the hell out of me."

She swallowed loudly, “Sorry..” she mumbled.

“No, no, no. Don’t apologize. Just.. don’t ever scare me like that again.” Eddie said as he squeezed her hand.

She groaned at the pain she felt in her entire body, mostly at her stomach. A small ouch, falling off her lips as she touched her stomach. “What-?” she stumbled.

“Internal bleeding, your heart stopped for like three minutes. They had to rush you into an emergency surgery,”Eddie explained.

“You stayed here?” She then asked as she scanned the room and spotted multiple bags in the room. He nodded. “Of course I did.” He said as he brushed a strand of hair from her face and pushed it behind her ear.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me (Y/n)” he told her, with a small smile on his face. She let out a breathy chuckle, barely audible but enough to make Eddie’s heart make a jump of happiness.

“I love you.” The words left her mouth weakly and slow. Eddie couldn’t help but let the smile grow bigger on his face, “Te amo, mi amor.”

[midnighthazee]

Greenridge ABO Series

a/n: Sorry for the late post!!! Writer's Block got to me this weekend and I had to push through!! ENJOY!

Series Masterlist Masterlist

Warnings: explicit language, fear, mentions of past abuse/trauma, violence, alphas loosing their temper, abuse, blood

WC: 5823

Chapter 12

Felix decided to come upstairs to nap after eating. He was about to go into his room when he looked down the hall and saw your door cracked. You never leave it cracked - usually fully open if you weren’t in there. He goes to your room, knocking. No answer so he pushes the door fully open.

“Y/n?” he calls out.

Silence.

He steps inside, noticing a paper at the foot of the bed. He picks it up and reads. He reads it nearly four times, his mind reeling. He panics, running down the stairs to find Minho. 

Minho had been in the living room trying to figure out the unsettling feeling he had in his stomach. It started nearly an hour ago and he’s been nauseous ever since. But why? Could it be nerves? But he never got nervous like this before. 

He was so caught up in what it could be when Felix came in, interrupting his thoughts. The other packs came around after hearing Felix yelling.

“Minho!” he calls out. “Minho!”

“What? What is it Felix?”

“Y/n. She left.” he answers, holding the paper out as he pants.

“What?” Minho snatches the paper and reads it. “Shit. How did she find out?”

“She overheard someone talking about it.” Jeongin shrugged.

“How long ago since she left?” Minho asked.

“I don’t know. She told me she was going to shower after we told her she couldn’t come with us. But that was almost three hours ago.” Felix looked at his watch.

Minho shook his head. “Assuming she found her way, she would be there by now.”

“So then let’s go. We can leave now.” Jungwon spoke, standing up. His pack stood with him, ready to fight.

The other packs stood as well.

Minho nodded. “Okay. Let’s go get our pack back.”

They all headed out, getting into cars and driving over to the Nyko territory. It didn’t take long and soon they were driving up the long driveway to the pack house, parking in the front lawn. Getting out they all hurried over to the house.

“It’s awfully quiet.” Changbin whispers.

Minho nodded as the two of them walked up to the front porch. They kicked open the door, hurrying inside. A mix of the other pack members flanked, coming inside as well. The rest stayed stationed outside. 

They weren’t confronted with any hybrids as they made their way through the house. It didn’t take long for them to declare it empty. 

“It’s clear.” Minho called out.

The Greenridge members and all the alphas came inside.

“Where could they be?” Seungmin asked. 

“Alpha Minho, you might want to see this.” Mingyu said, leading Minho to the basement, the rest of them following.

They were all quick to cover their noses at the smell, the smell of rotting flesh now mixed in with the foul smell of the basement.

“Oh my god… Our y/n was down here? Living in this her whole life?” Felix looked on in horror at the cells. They were worse than he had imagined. 

Minho clenched his jaw, pushing onwards. Mingyu led them to the torture room, allowing them to look in. Changbin peeked but was quick to turn away, pushing Felix back from view. He knows Felix’s sensitive nature and doesn’t want to upset him further.

“What? What is it?” Felix asks, trying to push past him.

“It’s Lewis.” Minho says, walking past them and back up the stairs.

Felix froze, his face perplexed.

“He’s dead.” Changbin explains.

Felix’s eyes go wide.

They all go back upstairs, exiting the house. Minho’s fuming as he comes out of the house. The rest of the packs come over, wondering what happened inside.

“Lewis is dead. No one’s inside.” Seungcheol announced.

“Alpha, sir, I think I might have found something on the side of the house.” Niki said.

Minho was quick to follow.

“At first I thought it was graffiti, but I think it’s a message,” he explained when they got there.

“Blackmane?” Jeongin questioned. “They have our people?”

“Let’s hope.” Minho said. “Let’s go. We’re going to regroup and get ready for the drive.”

The packs headed back to Greenridge Manor, prepping for their travels. They didn’t know if that’s where their people were, but it was the only lead they had.

Your head was pounding, each pump of your heart making it throb. You groan, turning over and pushing your face into the pillow. The smell wasn’t familiar at all. Where were you?

You open your eyes and take in the room. The room was bigger than yours back at the pack house, having two double beds, a desk and chair, dresser with a tv on it, and a couch with a coffee table. There were curtains shutting out all but a sliver of light - just enough to tell you it was daytime.

The memories of last night come back to you, making you lean forward and massage your temples. Maybe you should have trusted them and stayed put. But then again, they would have been captured instead. Or killed. 

You sigh, swinging your feet off the bed and padding over to the window. Squinting, you open the curtains more and look out. Your stomach dropped, making you stagger backwards. Why were you so high up? 

Two little beeps made you whip your head around, a door opening on the other side of the room. It was then you noticed another door with a shower beyond it.

“Oh good. You’re awake.” a man said, coming inside and walking over to you. “Hungry?”

You scurried over to the side, only for him to place the plastic bags he carried on the desk. You caught his scent - another alpha. He turned to you, seeing your fearful expression.

“I’m not gonna hurt you.” He chuckled, as if your fear was silly.

You didn’t say anything as he turned back and began emptying the bags. You eyed the door, wondering if you would manage to get out before he got to you. Even then, you didn’t know what was on the other side of that door - what you would be running into.

“You can run, but I doubt you will get far,” he said condescendingly.

His back was still to you as he spoke. You roll your eyes, finding an ounce of courage to question him.

“Who are you?” 

“Oh, sorry. How rude of me. I’m Reed.” He smiled warmly at you.

You looked away from him. 

“Are you hungry, y/n?”

“How do you know my name?”

“Uh, I was there the day you were born…” He said as if it was obvious.

“Wh-what?”

He turned around, brows furrowed. “Did mom and dad never talk about me?”

You stared at him in bewilderment.

“I guess that’s fair. Why would they talk about me after they sent me away?” he rolled his eyes.

“I don’t have an older brother.”

“You do actually… Me. And we have a younger brother apparently. Hudson, right?”

Your heart started to beat faster. Who was this stalker?

“Please eat. You’ve been unconscious for a while. Not to mention, you threw up before that.” He says, sitting down on the couch and placing your food on the coffee table. He sat down, taking a bite of his own food.

You didn't move or say anything.

He sighs, putting down his food.

“Y/n…what’s it going to take for you to trust me? I mean you no harm.”

“Where’s Chan? Was he there with Hyunjin and Jisung?”

“Chan…? Oh, you mean Chris?” he asked.

You furrowed your brows.

“Did he not tell you his name was Chris?” Reed sat back. “How long were you with them anyways. Lewis wouldn’t shut up about you being stolen away.”

“I wasn’t stolen…” you cross your arms.

“Please don’t tell me you got Stockholm syndrome with that foolish pack,” he joked.

You felt anger course through you at the way he talked so negatively about your pack.

“They aren’t fools, they are my soulmates…my pack.” You growl. “Lewis lied, abused, and falsely marked me.”

Reed is quiet as he thinks this over. He studies you, smelling the anger and fear off you. He squints his eyes before finally going back to eating. He motioned for you to eat your food. “It’s good.”

“Where’s Chan, Hyunjin, and Jisung?”

“Safe. With the Hybrid Association.”

“Where is that?”

“Why? Do you plan on going there?”

“If I need to in order to get them back.”

“You won’t get through without clearance…which I have. So are you going to indulge me for five minutes to eat? Or keep playing hard to get?”

“How do I even know you’re my brother?”

“You were born twenty three years ago on a full moon. It was a Friday night when the moon was highest in the sky. Mom’s name is Haneul. Dad’s name is Walker. Hudson is…wait I know…five years younger than you. I don’t know that much about him considering I was sent away before you were even six months old. We lived in a little house on the hill, five minutes from town where they had the best fish cakes. Does Ms. Daisy still make them? Or did her daughter Daphne take over?”

You glare. He clearly knew a lot. 

“Why’d mom and dad send you away?” you question.

“Why did they send you away?” he rebuttals.

You don’t say anything.

“They sent you away for the same reason they sent me away. Money. The packs paid them.”

“But you’re not an omega…”

“True. Omegas do go for way more, but I was sold to a pack that desperately needed an alpha heir. And they paid a handsome price for that.”

“How old were you?”

“Ten.”

“What was the pack like?” You ask, sitting on the bed.

“The pack was great. They became my family, and I took over when the old alpha passed. I am now in charge of them, leading them into years of success. You’ve heard of the Blackmane pack…”

You shake your head.

“Really? That’s a first. Everyone knows us. It’s one of the oldest and largest packs still around. We have over a hundred members, twenty subpacks under us. The Nykos included.”

“The Nykos are under your rule? Did you know I was there?”

“We don’t monitor the packs like the police. They do their own thing, but all packs under Blackmane are automatically in an alliance. So it’s against our agreement to start fights with another sub pack. That’s about as far as regulation goes. As for you, they never listed they had omegas like they should have. Now I know why. So no, I didn’t know you were there.”

“Is Greenridge one of yours?”

“No.”

“So if you don’t monitor them, then what were you doing there?”

“With my help, Blackmane climbed the rankings and became privileged members of the Hybrid Association. There was a tip called in about Lewis and his treatment of omegas a few days ago. I took the responsibility to follow up and see if it was true, seeing as they were under our pack. When we arrived, Lewis was quick to butter us up, but I saw right through him. My men rounded up the immediate members and went through the house. It was then we found a female omega, Chris, and his betas.”

“How did they look?” you stepped forward.

Reed titled his head at you. “They were beaten and bloody but fine. They could walk out on their own so I sent them and that girl to the Hybrid Association with a couple of my men.”

You breathe a sigh of relief, thankful that they were okay. “Why send them to the Hybrid Association?”

“To give a statement of what happened so the remaining Nyko members can be dealt with.” Reed went back to finishing his food.

“Why’d you kill Lewis then? Instead of giving him to the Hybrid Association?” you asked warily.

“I couldn’t bear for him to weasel his way out of a death sentence after what he did to you. So when that girl told us what he did to you three omegas, I had him chained in the basement. My men dealt with him, I gave the final blow.”

You shudder, remembering the way his body looked.

“Let’s get one thing straight. I’m not Lewis. If I hurt or kill, it’s with intention and reason, not for fun.” He sat straighter, speaking with so much authority. “I’m not a threat to you.”

You nod, thinking over his words.

“Please eat.” Reed insisted.

You finally caved, sitting down and eating. It was so good you scarfed it down. Once you both finished, he offered you a chance to shower. You showered quickly and got dressed in the clothes he left you to change into.

Once dressed, you emerged from the bathroom. He was sitting on the couch, typing on his computer with a serious face.

“Can you take me home now?” you ask, brushing your hair.

“No.”

“No? Why not?”

“Because you’re going with me.” he said, still not looking up from his computer.

“I don’t want to. I want to go home. The rest of the pack is probably so worried about me.”

“They’ll be fine.” He reached for his phone, still barely paying attention to you.

“No. They won’t. Did you forget the part about us being soulmates?”

He finally looked up. “You need to give a statement at the Hybrid Association for what you have been through.”

“Fine. After, will you take me home?”

“Yes.” 

You figured you wouldn’t press the matter further and fell back on the bed. You laid there for a few more minutes until Reed declared it was time to go. You followed him down the hall, two men in front of you, two men behind.

They stopped in front of three sets of doors and pushed a button. There was a light above each door with arrows pointing up or down, flashing in time with a beeping sound. One of the doors opened, revealing a small room. They led you inside, and you looked around nervously.

“Never been in an elevator, I’m assuming.” Reed smiled over at you.

“No.” you mumbled,

The doors shut and you felt the room shake. You nearly jumped out of your skin, grabbing Reed’s arm tight. 

“It’s alright. It’s just lowering us to the ground floor.” Reed said, resting his hand on yours that was gripping his bicep. “We are going to have to work on your exposure to the world.”

“Blame your minion.” you grumble.

“Oh I do. I just regret not making him suffer longer.” 

Part you wished you had been here. Sure you might not have stomached it but to see him struggle and get what he deserved…it would have been satisfying.

The room finally stopped moving, bouncing slightly before the doors opened. You stepped out, seeing a whole different area. It felt like you had teleported.

“Come.” he beckoned with a small smile.

You followed Reed to the car, climbing in the backseat of the Escalade. As the suv peeled away from the hotel, you looked out the window. You didn’t recognize anything around you and it made you wonder.

“How far from Greenridge are we?”

“Couple hours.” Reed shrugged. “But it’s about to be more.”

“More? But I need to tell them I’m okay. That I’ll be back.”

“Do you have their number to call?”

“No…”

“Then how did you plan on telling them?”

You shrug. You had no way of reaching them.

“State your name for the record.” a man said in a bored tone.

“Bang Chan.” 

“Please tell us what happened last night to the best of your knowledge.” he muttered, two other gentlemen sitting on either side of him.

“Of course. Well, it actually started earlier that morning when I-”

“Mr. Bang, we are just here to collect your testimony as to what occurred at the Nyko Pack’s main house last night.” the man interrupted.

“This is important information relating to last night’s events, sir.”

“If we need the extra information, we will ask for it.” the man stated. 

Chan cleared his throat. “Last night, Hyunjin, Jisung, and myself were locked in cells in Lewis's basement. We had been sedated and were just coming to. Lewis pulled me from my cell, chaining me to a wall in a separate room. He had a cattle prod that he used to shock me repeatedly. He wanted us to suffer, but also wanted to use us as bait for y/n to come back.”

“Who’s y/n?”

“She was an omega he held captive in his basement, tortured and abused for years.”

“Why would he treat his omega like that?”

“She’s not his omega. And it wasn’t just her he abused. There were two others treated the same. I don’t know what compelled him to do such heinous acts.”

The three of them began to scribble on their papers.

“And how do you know this to be true?”

“She came onto our property. I saw the scars and injuries first hand.”

“What injuries?”

“His brothers liked to hunt her for sport, which they did the night we found her. She had silver and cobalt pellets embedded in her skin from them using her as target practice.”

The men scribbled more notes.

“Is she still in your care?” the man on the left asked.

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t return her, why?” the center man asked.

“She’s our soulmate.”

“Our?”

“All of my pack felt the soulmate bond, myself included.”

Jotting notes once more.

“What happened next?” The man to the right asked.

“We had our pack doctor, Doctor Quinn assist our medic, Felix, in caring for y/n. They removed the pellets, gave her an IV and let her heal. Slowly she learned to trust us. We helped her settle in, make a nest and now she’s feeling like part of the pack.”

“Is she marked?”

“Not by us.”

All three men looked up, confused. “Elaborate.”

“Lewis marked her.”

“Was he a soulmate as well?”

“Y/n said she never felt the pull with him the way she did with us.”

They wrote down more notes, shaking their heads.

“We’ve gotten a little sidetracked. Let’s get back to last night. After Lewis tortured you, what happened.”

“His brothers, Hayes and Milo came down as well…”

“Well well…look at the true alpha now.” Hayes taunted.

“Not so tough now, are you?” Milo snickered.

Chan was panting and shirtless, now suspended from the ceiling by his wrists. His skin was sweaty and bloodied from the lashes Lewis just delivered.

“Got nothing to say?” Milo asked, circling Chan.

Chan spit at the ground right in front of Milo. Milo punched him in the ribs, smiling at him.

“That wasn’t very nice, Chris.”

“Stop calling me that.” Chan growled.

“Look, Hayes. He’s getting angry.”

Hayes smirks, coming closer. He gets directly in Chan’s face, forcing him to look up at him.

“Such a pathetic alpha…” Hayes taunts. “You can’t even protect your pack.”

As if on cue, the cries of Hyunjin and Jisung echo down the hall. Their pained screams tug at Chan’s heart. 

“And soon enough…that little omega will be ours once more. I do enjoy fucking her sweet little cunt. Tell me, have you had the pleasure yet?” Hayes tilted his head at Chan.

Chan was seething, his chest heaving as he took deep breaths. His eyes were bloodshot, pupils red with fury. His jaw was clenched and his hands bawled into fits. The chains above him groaned as he pulled down on them. Hayes threw his head back, laughing.

“She’s quite a prude if you ask me. So if you really want a taste…” Hayes leaned into Chan’s space once more, whispering, “you’re gonna have to take it. And when you do, those sweet sounds she makes…..ugh the tears and whines as she begs you to stop. You know she secretly loves it. She gets so wet and-”

SNAP.

The chains holding Chan’s wrists snap apart, leaving a few links dangling from his wrists as they drop. His hands are immediately around Hayes’s neck, forcing him backwards to the stone wall. Milo was quick to jump in, attempting to pull Chan off his brother. Haye’s eyes flash panic as he feels the strength in Chan’s iron grip.

Chan releases one hand to shake off the pest that is Milo, shoving him to the ground. Hayes grips Chan’s remaining hand with both his hands, still not strong enough to pry him off. 

Chan now gets in Hayes’s face, gripping his neck so tight his face was starting to turn purple.

“You will never….ever get to touch my girl again.” Chan growled through gritted teeth.

With a flick of Chan’s wrist and a crack sound coming from Hayes’s neck, it was done. Chan threw his limp body to the ground, turning around and seeing Milo standing there in shock. 

“How dare you!” Milo charged at Chan

Chan was quick to duck out of the way, quickly turning around to face Milo, hand grazing the table. Milo yelled, turning around and lunging at him once more. Chan lifted his arm and stabbed a knife into Milo’s neck.

Milo froze. Chan yanked it out, blood spraying out. Milo was quick to clutch his neck, looking dumbfounded at Chan who just watched emotionlessly. Chan’s face and chest was splattered in blood, Milo dropping to his knees as blood poured from his neck. Toppling over, Milo too was now dead.

The room was silent.

“It was then some of the men from the Blackmane pack came in, rescuing me and my betas. They also rescued the omega girl left behind, and sent us all here.” Chan continued.

“I see.” the one in the center said. “And you’re aware of the laws we have in place, correct.”

“Yes, sir. I know it sounds bad. But I only acted in self-defense. They were hurting me and my betas. Plus they also-”

“Unfortunately, Mr. Bang…” the man on the right sighed, removing his glasses. “We know your history with these kinds of things. You are a power hungry alpha and many have fallen at your hands.”

“Sir, I-” “Christopher Bang. Did you think we didn’t know your last name? Or your alias ‘Chan’?” The gentleman on the left spoke, rising from his chair. “You killed your own brother and now two members of a neighboring pack - one being an alpha. Our first law is ‘Thou shalt not kill one’s hybrid brethren’ or did you forget?”

Chan swallowed, before shaking his head.

“Take him away.” the one in the center waved his hand.

Two guards from the back of the room stepped forward, grabbing Chan by the arms.

“Wait. Please, this is a misunderstanding.”

“You would do well mind your manners and go willingly. Any protest will not help your case.” the man on the right cautioned.

So Chan left willingly, the two guards leading him to a holding cell. It looked more like an interrogation room, having a two way mirror on one wall. There was, however, a cot on the opposite wall, a toilet and sink with a smaller mirror next to it. 

Once they were gone, Chan groaned. He looked into the small mirror, seeing the blood still decorating his skin. His eyes flash red and he punches the glass, shattering his reflection. Pulling his fist back, he plucks a few shards of glass from his knuckles. His hand bled a little so he turned on the water to wash his hands, splashing water on his face in an effort to wash off the remaining blood.

Hyunjin, Jisung, and the omega named Piper all gave their statements of what happened as well. Hyunjin managed to convince them to allow a phone call to their pack. They knew everyone was probably worried sick and needed to hear from them. On top of that, they desperately wanted to get back home. He held Jisung’s hand as they called together, luckily remembering Minho’s cell number.

“Hello?” Minho asked warily.

“Min? It’s Hyunjin.” They hear him let out a big exhale.

“Where are you guys? Are you okay?” Minho asked in a serious tone.

“We’re okay. We’re at the Hybrid Association headquarters.” Hyunjin answered.

“What are you doing there?” 

“A pack rescued us. They sent us here to explain what happened last night.” Jisung said.

“They wanted you to explain Lewis’s death?” Minho questioned.

“Lewis is dead?” Jisung nearly yelled.

“Yes. You didn’t know?”

“No. We were here because Chan killed Hayes and Milo.” Hyunjin whispered.

“He did?”

“Yes. They had us in chains and were torturing us. But Chan snapped, breaking free and killing them.”

“I bet y/n is relieved. She didn’t witness it, did she?” Minho asked.

“Y/n? She’s not with us.” Jisung stated.

“She’s not with you?” Hyunjin asked.

Minho was silent, clenching his jaw.

“Min?” Hyunjin looked to Jisung.

“She ran off last night to rescue you guys. We came shortly after, but we were too late. The house was empty. We found Lewis’s body though. We…we assumed she was with you guys.” Minho explained.

“We never saw her. It must have been the pack that found us that has her.”

“They probably killed Lewis too.” Minho said. “Where’s Chan?”

“Um…in a holding cell.” Hyunjin admitted.

“What!?” Minho yelled, making them jerk from the phone.

“They won’t let us see him.” Jisung whined. “Maybe it has something to do with Hayes and Milo?”

Minho was silent. He wondered if the real reason was Chan’s past coming to haunt him once more. After a few moments, Minho spoke. “We will be there shortly to get you. Then we are heading to the Blackmane pack. We believe they have y/n.”

“Blackmane? That was the pack that helped us.” Hyunjin noted. “They were nice people.”

“Then why haven’t they returned y/n?” Minho asked, doubting the kind nature of the Blackmane pack.

“Our time’s up. See you soon.” Hyunjin said.

“We are on our way.” Minho assured them.

Hyunjin and Jisung then followed a gentleman down the hall. They headed down the hall which opened up to a corridor that was well lit with natural light from all the windows. The ceiling was ten stories up from the bottom and glass with a huge chandelier hanging from the center. The halls opened up to the sides, walkways that wrapped around the corridor in a circular design. The center was open through all the levels, the walkway inclined to bring you up to each level. 

They headed up the walkway to the upper levels from level three which overlooked the reception desk below. The employee led them up to level four and they turned down the hall.

Downstairs, Reed and you walk in. He smiles at the receptionist, guiding you up the walkway. You get to level three and Reed leads you down a hall towards a small room designed like a courtroom.

“I’ll be right here when you’re done. You can do this.”

You take a deep, nodding. You step inside, standing in front of three gentlemen.

“State your name for the record.” the man said.

“Um… y/n y/l/n.”

“What are you here to discuss?”

“Alpha Lewis and…um…his mistreatment of omegas.” you say, twiddling your fingers.

“Y/n…as in the omega who escaped the Nyko pack?” the one on the right asked.

“Ym…yes?” you say.

“Speak up, honey. We can barely hear you.”

“Yes.” you speak louder.

“Okay. Where would you like to start?”

It took nearly an hour to go over everything he did to you while in his house. They questioned you about a lot of details, some hard to talk about. They asked you about your time and treatment during the period you were with the Greenridge pack as well. You confirmed the soulmate connection and talked very highly of everyone. The men just nodded, taking notes to look over later. 

Chan paced restlessly in his cell. Of course they knew who he was. And now they had him trapped, soon to face trial most likely. What was he going to do? He had to find a way to prove he didn’t kill his brother. He wouldn’t have become a true alpha if he had.  

Plan after plan swirled around his head as he tried to figure out how to get back home to his pack - to you. It was then his thoughts were interrupted, a voice speaking into the intercom.

“Well, well.” The voice taunted.

The hairs on the back of Chan’s neck stood tall. He froze, eyes wide. He knew that voice.

“Seems the alpha finally got caught.”

“You.” Chan growled.

“What about me?”

“You were there. You’re the one who killed my brother.” “Still spilling that lie? What makes you think it was me?”

“I know your voice.”

“Do you? It would be wrong for you to falsely accuse an innocent person.”

“You’re not innocent.”

“And neither are you, I hear.”

Chan glared at the two way mirror, being only met with his reflection. The man's words rang true as Chan took in his reflection.

“Tell me Chris…or Chan if that’s what you prefer now.” the voice continued. “How much longer do you think your pack will follow you when they learn the truth of what you’ve done?”

Chan’s hand balled into fists, rage coursing through him. Only Minho knew the truth about his past. How his brother was killed right in front of him. How the killer ran off before anyone else showed up, Chan being left there looking guilty. No one wanted to believe the alpha who always boasted about having his own pack. Instead, they called him greedy, power hungry, and ruthless. He’s never been able to prove them wrong, not having seen the face of his brother’s killer. But one day, he always dreamt, he would expose the truth.

“You’re a murderer. They aren’t going to follow a murderer.” the man continued.

Chan growled, banging his fists on the glass and causing the man to just laugh.

Once you finished your statement, you came out to see Reed working on his phone. Okay, not working. More like nodding off. You smiled, coming over and shaking his shoulder. He jumped awake, looking around frantically.

“Oh. You’re done?” he asked, putting his phone in his pocket.

“Yep. They said I was free to go.”

“Great. Let’s go.”

You followed him back down the walkway and out the front doors. You got in the suv, eager to go back to your pack. You missed them terribly and felt a deep need to see them. You wanted to assure them you were okay and hopefully get Minho to stop blaming himself. 

“Hungry?” Reed asked.

You shook your head.

“You don’t eat much, do you?”

You shrug. “I just want to get home.”

“Suit yourself.” Reed shrugged too, going back to his phone as the driver peeled off from the Hybrid Association.

Not even five minutes after your departure, Minho pulls up. The packs wait outside while Minho and Changbin go inside for their people. The receptionist directed them to level two. They followed her directions, finding themselves in a lounge. Off to the side, they located their boys.

“Jinnie, Ji!” Minho calls.

They both come rushing over, jumping into their waiting arms. They hug each other tight, Minho pulling back to examine them.

“I’m okay.” Hyunjin says.

“Good.” Minho says, kissing him briefly before checking over Jisung as Changbin holds him close. 

Changbin kisses his check, rubbing his back as Jisung relaxes into his hold. Minho then ushers them to the car, staying behind at the desk as they walk off with Changbin.

Minho turns around, his smile gone from his face. He marches up to the front desk, all pleasantries gone.

“I want to visit someone.”

“What’s the name?” the older lady asks.

“Bang Chan.”

“I’m sorry, son. He’s not allowed visitors.”

“What?! No, I’m his right hand alpha.”

“I’m sorry. Your rank doesn’t matter here.”

“Is there someone I can speak to about this?” Minho asks, exasperated.

“That would be Mr. Park. His office is on level three.”

Minho marches up the walkway, and finds his way to Mr. Park’s office. He knocks on the door, but no answer.

“Can I help you?” a gentleman asks, coming up from behind Minho.

“I’m looking for Mr. Park.”

“That’s me. What can I do for you?”

“I’m here to see Bang Chan.”

“I’m afraid he’s in lockup, pending trial.”

“I know. I want to visit him?”

“Those pending a trial are not allowed visitors.”

“He didn’t do it. His brother was killed by someone else.”

“I’m afraid I cannot discuss the case with you.”

“I’m his second in command, current Alpha in Greenridge until he returns, Lee Minho.”

“Sorry Minho. Those are the rules.”

“Your rules are bullshit!”

“You’d do well to watch your tone.” 

Minho grabbed the man by his collar, shoving him back into the wall. A nearby security officer stepped forward but Mr. Park raised his hand to stop him.

“Let go or you will be in a holding cell of your own.”

Minho growled, releasing the man and storming off. He flipped a stack of chairs in the process, scaring those passing by. He was livid to say the least.

Upon exiting the building, Changbin turned to see his mate. 

“What happened?”

“He’s pending trial. So no visitors.”

“Pending trial for what?” Seungmin asked.

“Killing Hayes and Milo probably.” Hyunjin said in a quiet voice.

“And his brother.” Minho added, face void of emotion.

They all looked at him confused.

“We should talk.” Minho sighed, deciding it was time they knew the truth.

You were in fact hungry, but didn’t want to admit it now after you told him no thirty minutes ago. Unfortunately, home would be another three ish hours of a drive to get to. Ugh you were going to have to speak up.

You turned to Reed, who was typing on his computer next to you, but noticed a giant mansion out the window. The car turned, stopping at a large gate that opened.

“Where are we?” you asked.

“Home.” Reed said.

“This isn’t Greenridge. You said you would take me home.”

“Yes, I did. I didn’t say to your home.”

You stared dumbfounded at him as the car pulled up under a carriage and stopped. Reed moved to get out, noticing you not moving.

“Come on. I’ll show you to your room”

“No.”

“No?”

“You tricked me.”

Reed sighed. “Come inside. I have some things to tend to. You can eat while I do that. Then we can freshen up and change clothes. Then I’ll see about taking you home.”

He winked at you before exiting the car. Groaning, you get out. You were hungry so you’d allow him to feed you first. He will be taking you home to your mates after that.

TAGLIST:

@estella-novella @lxvxchxrlxttxbxrsx22-blog @butterflydemons @readr1221 @gaby105-skz @notevenheretbh1 @bah2004 @sinfulfic @bowsnbang @just-a-blackthorn-cookie @dreamerwasfound @motheraiya55 @m00njinnie @writeuntilthebitterend @jutdwae-flower @staytinyluv @emmxxsworld @galaxy4489 @wolfo2027 @iknow-uknow-leeknow @thatgirlangelb @fr34k4c1dr41n @stwq2349 @rylea08 @sang-09.

Shout out to my lovely beta @cherry-erii

[andikiramman]

your little girlfriend thinks i'm pretty

caitlyn x vi x maddie

word count: 5.7k

A/N: y'all i did it... but jsyk i started writing this before the finale so unfortunately this isn't the hate sex some of y'all were hoping for, but i mean if y'all really want it i wouldn't mind making it happen(◠‿◕)

MEN, MINORS, AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

Ever since Vi became an Enforcer, she knew that there’d be those that wouldn’t want her there. Entitled Pilties that think she’s leeching off the head of the Kiramman household for whatever stupid reason they came up with. Honestly, she was okay with that. She spent her entire life being judged and discriminated against by Topsiders; at this point, she really couldn’t give less of a fuck.

However, even she had her limits.

Vi barged into Caitlyn’s office (being the only one in the entire precinct with enough audacity to do so), kicking the door shut and plopping down in one of the chairs in front of Cait’s desk. She was visibly fuming, her arms crossed tightly in front of her as her leg bounced with agitation. 

Even though she wasn't looking at her directly, Vi knew Cait was watching her, waiting for her to justify her behavior.

“Cupcake, I’ve had it up to here with your little girlfriend, okay?!” Vi sneered.

Caitlyn rolled her eyes at that, sighing and dropping her pen onto the desk.

“Vi, how many times do I have to tell you to stop calling her that? Maddie is not my girlfriend, you are!”

“Then can you please remind her so she can leave me the fuck alone?!”

Cait went silent for a moment as she took in Vi’s words.

“What do you mean by that? Has she been giving you problems?”

Vi scoffed. “Uh, yeah! I swear, ever since you broke things off with her, she keeps… staring at me!”

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow. “Staring…?”

“Yes, staring!” Vi repeated. “I swear, it’s like she has some sort of problem with me, or something!”

“And since when did you care if someone had a problem with you?” Cait frowned.

Vi prepared to say something, but she just sighed, rubbing her temple.

“Look, typically I really wouldn’t give a shit– I wouldn’t have even come to you if it were anyone else but, you know…”

Vi gave Caitlyn a genuine look, and she finally understood.

“Alright, I’ll… I’ll speak to Maddie myself, okay? I’ll see what’s going on.”

Vi nodded silently, standing up to leave. “Thanks, Cupcake.”

“Oh, and Vi?” Caitlyn called just before she left.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Vi smiled, her shoulders visibly relaxing. “I love you too, Cupcake.”

Feeling a sense of relief, Vi opened the door, only for a body to come tumbling down from the other side.

Vi jumped back, her fists instinctively came up to shield her face, ready for a fight.

“What the- Maddie?!”

The junior officer brushed herself off, grabbing the beret that fell off her head and fixing it back on. “Oh, Vi… top o’ the morning…”

Cait silently observed in confusion, but at this point, Vi was enraged.

“Do you see what I mean?!” she shouted. “Why the fuck is she here?!”

Before Cait could offer an answer, Vi was picking up Maddie by her collar, the smaller woman’s feet dangling in the air as she yelped.

“What’s your fuckin’ problem with me, Nolen?” Vi questioned aggressively. “What is it about me that’s bothering you so damn much, huh?!”

Maddie spluttered, struggling to find an answer as she fought to find some sort of footing. 

“I don’t… I–”

At this point, Caitlyn was growing increasingly frustrated that she was being inhibited from completing her paperwork, so she decided to put an end to the shitshow immediately.

“That’s enough!”

Vi and Maddie both froze, turning their attention to the Sheriff.

“Vi, please put Junior Officer Nolen down, now.”

The redhead did just so, setting Maddie down gently (though she felt more inclined to just drop her).

“Maddie, close my door.”

Maddie gulped, wordlessly turning and closing the door to Caitlyn’s office.

“Now,” the sheriff sighed, clasping her hands together, “from what I understand, there seems to be some sort of dispute between the two of you.”

Maddie furrowed her eyebrows. “I don’t have any problem with–”

“Yeah fuckin’ right!” Vi interrupted with a scoff. “Ever since Cait dumped you you’ve been eyeing me like I got something that belongs to you!”

Maddie blinked a few times, her cheeks starting to redden in a blush.

“I… I have?”

Vi rolled her eyes. “Don’t give me that shit, Nolen. Every time I happen to glance your way, you’re staring right at me!”

Maddie averted her gaze as she began nervously playing with her fingers. “Oh…”

“Oh, so you’re not even gonna deny it?” Vi sneered, marching right up to Maddie and harshly grabbing her cheeks to turn her face back towards her. “What’s your fucking deal, Nolen?”

Maddie gasped, her blush spreading to the rest of her face. She gulped, seemingly steeling her resolve, before opening her mouth to speak.

“You’re pretty…”

A beat of silence.

“W-What…?”

Maddie took a deep breath in to cool herself down.

“I-I have to admit Vi… at first, I was kind of jealous of you. I guess at first, I really was glaring at you.”

Vi finally let go, taking a step back and raising her eyebrow. “But…?”

“But,” Maddie spoke again, fiddling with the edge of her shirt, “the more I watched you, the more I found myself becoming… attracted to you.”

Caitlyn was still eerily silent. She’d never imagined the scenario before her ever happening but she wasn’t going to complain about it, either. If she played her cards right…

“A-Attracted… to me?” Vi rasped out in shock. Her breathing became heavy, and she couldn’t tell whether it was from anger or anticipation.

Maddie nodded. “You… you’re very pretty, Vi. I never considered you to be my type but–” she turned to Caitlyn– “I see the appeal.”

Caitlyn said nothing as she looked between Maddie and Vi, letting her girlfriend attempt to handle this situation on her own.

After being paralyzed with shock, Vi finally let out a scoff, which turned into a chuckle. She stuck her hands in her pocket, slowly making her way over to Caitlyn’s chair.

“You hear that, Cupcake? Your little girlfriend thinks I’m pretty…”

Caitlyn side-eyed her, waiting for the redhead to continue.

“…So much so that she couldn’t keep her eyes off me for months. To top it all off, she even followed me to your office, for who knows why.”

Maddie gulped, keeping her eyes glued to the floor in front of her. She gasped when her chin was suddenly forced upwards, being met with Vi’s cloudy grey eyes.

“So now what, Nolen?” Vi muttered huskily. “You told us exactly how you feel, n’ you got us both right where you want us, so what now?”

Maddie’s breath quickened, her eyes dropping to Vi’s lips for a brief second before returning her gaze.

“I… I think this is something we could maybe talk about another time…?”

Before Vi could answer, Caitlyn stood, cutting the conversation short.

“You know what? Officer Nolen is right,” she announced. “Do keep in mind we are still on the clock.”

This time, Caitlyn allowed herself a slight smirk, turning her attention to Maddie.

“Maddie, why don’t you come pay us a visit tomorrow?” The taller woman offered. “I feel the relaxed environment would be more suitable for this sort of dilemma… how does that sound?”

Maddie, visibly stunned, stuttered for a moment, before finally finding a response.

“Uh… y-yeah, sure.”

🢝 🢝 🢝 🢝

“O-Oh fuck… Vi…”

The redhead simply hummed in response, her mouth occupied on Maddie’s neck. She alternated between kissing, biting, and sucking, anything to elicit those cute little sounds she’s been making since Vi got her hands on her. Vi’s hands in question were roaming Maddie’s body, shamelessly groping her ass as she pulled her ever closer.

The warmth building up within Maddie’s body was starting to grow unbearable, despite the slightly revealing spaghetti strap dress she currently had on (she had to admit, though she’d have no problems with simply coming over to talk, she prayed that her visit would lead to something a bit more… physical).

“Sure you don’t wanna join in, Cupcake?” Vi asked Caitlyn from the crook of Maddie’s neck. “I'm sure our little guest would enjoy her visit more if we both showed her a bit of hospitality…”

Oh my god, yes please! Maddie begged in her mind.

Caitlyn was currently seated on a chair efficiently placed in front of the bed, which happened to offer a splendid view of the two women making out on the mattress before her. She took a sip from the cup of tea she poured herself, humming at the sweet taste of organic raspberry leaf.

“I’m quite alright at the moment,” she respectfully declined, “I believe the two of you should spend some time working out your differences first. Though, I may feel more inclined to join a bit later on.”

Vi only shrugged before bringing her attention back to Maddie. She grabbed the smaller woman’s neck, pulling her in for a nasty kiss full of tongue. She swirled the muscle around Maddie’s own for a few seconds before pulling away, a string of saliva stretching out between their lips. 

“Why don’t you take this off for me, sweetheart?” Vi muttered as she tugged at Maddie’s dress.

Maddie nodded, wordlessly tugging her dress off of her body and tossing it to another part of the room. She nervously bit her lip when she noticed Vi’s teasing stare.

“Lace?” she questioned. “Oh, you really came here hoping to get fucked, huh?”

Maddie shrugged. “Guess there isn’t a point in denying it anymore, is there?”

The younger woman grabbed Vi’s face, pulling her in for another kiss as they fell back on the mattress. Vi growled into Maddie’s mouth, rough hands coming up to harshly palm at her breasts. A whimper turned into a gasp as black lace was torn apart, dusty pink nipples hardening as they were exposed to the cool air.

“Vi!”

Vi hummed as she kissed a trail down Maddie’s chest, the tip of her nose following the trail her lips left.

“Sorry, ‘m getting a bit impatient.”

Maddie let out a curse as she felt the wet warmth of Vi’s tongue envelop a nipple, her back arching off the bed as her legs wrapped around Vi’s waist.

“Fuck, so am I… just fuck me already…”

Vi scoffed, and Caitlyn simply offered an amused huff.

“Don’t think you can boss me around just ‘cause you’re getting what you want,” the muscled woman grumbled, punctuating her warning with a bite to Maddie’s breast.

Maddie yelped, her body flinching from the pain. Still, that didn’t stop her audacious behavior.

“What I want is for you to stop fucking talking so much and just eat me out or something!”

At that, Vi pulled away, sitting back on her heels as she glared at the ginger in front of her. Maddie, realizing she was a bit out of line, shrunk in on herself, her face turning a deep shade of red.

“P-Please…?”

Vi squared her jaw, before shaking her head and sighing. “Y’know, I see why Cait likes you so much,” she mused as she tugged Maddie’s black panties down her legs. She had half a mind to shove them into Maddie’s mouth, but ultimately decided against it. Instead, she grabbed Maddie’s thighs to pull her closer before holding her by the back of her knees to keep her legs spread open.

“It’ll be fun to get you off that damned high horse of yours.”

That was all that was said before Vi finally dove into her, her tongue tasting all that Maddie had to offer. She groaned as her tongue delved into Maddie’s hole, relishing in the sweet essence that was her arousal. And fuck, was there so much of it, the anticipation building up over the last two days keeping the woman soaked. Vi ate Maddie out like she was her last meal, her strong hands keeping Maddie’s legs firmly tucked against her chest.

Maddie, on the other hand, was absolutely losing her mind. She’s dreamed of this. Touched herself to the thought of this. Nothing, absolutely none of it, could’ve actually prepared her for the real thing. Vi was inexplicably good at giving head. Every time Vi decided to slip her tongue into her pussy, her nose nudged her clit, sending a hot jolt down her spine that had her thrusting her hips into Vi’s mouth. And when Vi decided to finally give attention to her aching clit— holy shit, it was like Maddie’s third eye opened, the pleasure alone had her feeling on top of the world. She kept one hand tangled in Vi’s hair and the other bunched in her own, sweet cries of pure bliss escaping her slacked jaw and spit-covered lips.

“Oh my– o-oh my god, fuck… Vi!”

Vi only responded with a whine of her own; she was clearly enjoying herself down there, eating Maddie simply for her own pleasure and nothing else.

Cait quietly watched the scene before her, one leg crossed over the other as she began pouring herself another cup of tea and adding a spoonful of sugar. Her scrutinizing blue eyes traced the curves of the women’s bodies, especially zeroing in on where Vi’s mouth moved diligently against Maddie’s core. It was as though she had front row seats to her own private show, everything on such clear display for her viewing pleasure. She couldn’t tell whether the warmth sizzling inside of her was from the tea or the two women making a mess on her bedsheets, but what she did know is that she’d feel the need to join them very soon. She pried her eyes away from the main event for just a moment to examine Maddie’s face. Her fucked out expression, her scrunched eyebrows, her eyes that were squeezed shut, the staccato breaths that left her lips… Maddie was going to cum, and very soon.

“Vi… Vi, please I’m so close… I’m, I– oh, ohfuck!”

Maddie clawed at the bedsheets as her orgasm rushed through her, her entire body quivering with the white-hot rush of ecstasy. Vi didn’t stop, though. She didn’t even slow down her ministrations against Maddie’s cunt. She ignored the sporadic twitching of her hips, Maddie’s whines from overstimulation, and even her unsuccessful attempts at closing her legs against Vi’s strong hands.

Maddie’s eyes rolled to the back of her head as both of her hands tangled themselves in Vi’s hair. Her back arched with each insistent swipe of Vi’s tongue.

“Oh my– Vi, shit… Vi, I already, mmph oh my fucking–”

Maddie went tumbling headfirst into another orgasm, this one knocking the wind out of her. Yet, Vi didn’t stop, nor did she show any signs of stopping. The stimulation was bordering on overbearing at this point, and Maddie turned her head to Caitlyn in hopes that she could talk Vi out from between her legs.

“Oh, I’m sorry dear,” Caitlyn apologized, despite the obvious lack of sympathy in her voice, “Vi’s enjoying herself so much that I don’t believe she plans on stopping anytime soon.”

And Caitlyn could not have been more right in that moment. One, two, three orgasms later, and Vi was still devouring Maddie from the inside out. At this point, Maddie was barely present, her entire body going slack on the bed. Her eyes couldn’t even focus, and all she could muster at this point were pitiful whimpers.

“No…” she whined weakly. “Vi…”

Caitlyn let out an amused hum, grabbing her teapot in hopes to pour another cup of tea, only to find that it was completely empty. She tsked in annoyance, finally standing from her seat.

“Vi, be nice.”

At the sound of Cait’s authoritative voice, Vi finally lifted herself up from between Maddie’s legs.

“Just look at the poor thing,” Cait mumbled, “I fear you may have broken her.”

Vi put Maddie’s legs down, and the ginger woman immediately took the chance to squeeze them shut, whimpering a small fuck as she did so.

“‘S not my fault,” Vi grunted, “she was getting arrogant.”

“Oh yeah?” Cait challenged as she began stripping down herself, until she was left in just a camisole and panties. Her pebbled nipples poked through the sheer fabric, and Vi couldn’t help but lick her lips at the sight. Her eyes moved down, taking in the entirety of Cait’s lithe figure: her long legs, her gentle curves, and a face with looks that could kill.

Damn, how did she manage to get so lucky?

It was seductive, the way Caitlyn’s hips rocked as she stalked over to Vi. She cradled her girlfriend’s cheek before going in for a kiss, sweet yet deep and full of passion. Once they pulled away, Cait bit her lip, looking Vi’s up and down.

“Go get the strap, love,” she commanded softly.

At that request, Vi’s cheeks reddened in a blush. “You’re gonna let me…?”

Cair raised an eyebrow at Vi’s implication. “I believe you’re mistaken, dear. I plan on folding you up just like you had our friend here,” she clarified with a motion towards Maddie, who was laying with an arm slung over her eyes.

“Now hurry up and go get it,” Cait reiterated. “I’m feeling a bit… energized. In the meantime, I’ll make sure she’s comfortable.”

Vi nodded rapidly as she stuttered out an affirmative. She was quick to scurry off the bed, going into their large walk-in closet in search of the toy and harness.

In the meantime, Cait made her way over to Maddie, signaling her presence with a soft brush of her hand.

“You okay, honey?” she hummed.

Maddie groaned, her arm falling away from her face.

“Vi is fucking insane…”

Caitlyn chuckled. “Vi’s a munch,” she corrected. “You were doomed from the second you told her to eat you out. Go on and get comfortable on the pillows, you can rejoin when you’re ready.”

With a grunt, Maddie moved herself up to settle on the mountain of pillows. Today was going to be a long day…

Vi came back just seconds later, the jet black toy in one hand, a harness and bottle of lube in the other.

“Good girl,” Caitlyn praised, taking the items from Vi and pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead. “I want you on your back.”

“Yes ma’am,” Vi replied, finding her place on the bed and resting back on her elbows. She could feel Maddie’s eyes on her, probably admiring her physique. She ignored her, instead focusing on Cait tightening the harness on her hips and strapping up.

When Cait finally turned her attention to her, Vi’s throat immediately went dry. The sight of the strap-on sitting perfectly on her hips had her body firing up from the inside out. Cait mounted the bed, crawling towards Vi until she was in between her spread legs.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Caitlyn muttered sensually, “all ready for me…”

Vi swallowed the lump in her throat, but all that came out was a strained whimper. Cait grabbed Vi’s calves and placed them on her shoulders, leaning in closer until their bodies were flush against each other. Vi let out a gasp as she felt the tip of the dildo run through her folds, and Cait hummed in response.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, Vi… Maddie’s got you all riled up, doesn’t she?”

Vi’s ears blushed a deep shade of red, and she turned away from Cait’s lingering stare. Cait bit her lip at Vi’s sudden shyness, deciding to tease her by grinding her hips forward. Vi squeezed her eyes shut, her mouth falling open at the toy catching against her clit.

“Fuck… Cait, please…”

Caitlyn smirked. “Fine, but only because you asked so nicely.”

Cait pushed her hips forward again, and this time the dildo went inside, stretching Vi out with each inch that gradually slipped into her.

“H-Holy shit, Cupcake,” Vi whimpered once it was all the way in. The position Cait had her in had the dildo reaching so fucking deep, it was like she could feel it in her stomach.

Caitlyn slowly pulled back a few inches, before snapping her hips forward again. Vi cried out in response, rough hands coming up to grab Cait’s shoulders.

“Please! Holy fuck, Cait, I need you to fuck me please!” she whined in desperation.

Caitlyn chuckled. “Gods, I love when you beg for me, Vi…”

Cait decided to give Vi exactly what she wanted, setting a brutal pace with the strap and being sure to bury herself to the hilt each time. She knew she was fucking Vi good, too, the redhead’s eyes glazing over as sweet whimpers and gasps escaped her lips. Fuck, what Cait would give to be able to feel Vi’s pussy in this moment. She’d stay here forever, just buried in Vi’s warmth.

“Fuck, you’re taking me so damn good, Vi,” Cait growled huskily as she roughly grabbed Vi’s face. Vi’s eyes finally focused (barely), and she keened at the sight of Cait above her.

“Mmh, shit, Cait you’re– oh fuck– you’re in my stomach,” Vi slurred in between loud moans.

“Is that right?” Cait teased. “This pussy can get so fuckin’ deep, huh?”

Vi nodded rapidly. “Mmh, yeah…”

Meanwhile, Maddie watched the scene before her like a hawk. Vi and Caitlyn… it was so rough, yet so intimate. She never thought Vi would be the type to beg, nor be the one to let someone pin her down and strap her the way she was, but since it was Caitlyn, she guessed that anything was possible. She had to admit, even though she wasn’t currently included, the two of them fucking like this was so hot. She swallowed, bringing a hand down to rub light circles against her clit. Her hips twitched; she was still a bit sensitive, but growing more aroused the longer she observed the couple in front of her. She used her other hand to pinch a nipple, rolling the rosy bud between her fingers at the same time. She let out a soft whine, the light pleasure she was giving herself had her rolling her hips against her hand. Shit, I wanna get fucked like that…

“Open your fucking mouth,” Caitlyn growled, and Vi did just so, allowing the taller woman to spit onto her tongue. Vi swallowed, opening her mouth again to show off her obedience.

“Good girl,” Cait muttered, leaning down to press her lips against Vi’s as she fucked her harder and faster.

“Ooh– oh Cait, Cait, Cait, fuck!”

Caitlyn groaned against Vi’s lips, not daring to stop her brutal pace for even for a second. 

“A-Ah, Caaaait, Cait, I’m so close, I’m gonna cum, fuck!” Vi screamed. Just seconds later, she was cumming, her strong legs locking Caitlyn in place as the rest of her body shivered violently with her release. After a few moments, Cait finally slowed down, leaning back and letting Vi’s legs drop to the bed below her.

“Fuck, you did such a good job,” Cait praised, pulling out of Vi to reveal the slicked up toy, drenched in Vi’s arousal. “You took me so well.”

Vi sniffled as she came down from her high. “T-Thank you…”

Caitlyn smiled down at her, so genuine and loving, before turning her attention to Maddie.

“You. Come here.”

Maddie, taken aback at the sudden shift, was stuck in place for a moment. The way Caitlyn watched her, one hand on her breast, the other in between her legs, she suddenly felt so… exposed.

“I don’t have all day, you know.”

At that, Maddie scrambled forward, until she was face to face with the Sheriff herself. Caitlyn grabbed her, kissing her in a similar fashion to the way Vi did earlier. It was nasty, sloppy, and full of tongue. To top it all off, Caitlyn started sucking on Maddie’s tongue, making the younger woman shiver with arousal. Before she could get too comfortable, however, Caitlyn pulled away. This time, she grabbed her roughly, positioning Maddie on her hands and knees right on top of Vi. Maddie gasped, now right in between the two, her heart was pounding at a mile a minute. She felt hands on her waist, which caused her to jump a little, before hearing snickering coming from below her.

“What’s wrong? You’re so jittery all of a sudden,” Vi teased. “Isn’t this what you wanted, Mads? Both of us…?”

Maddie gulped, letting Vi wrap her hand around her neck and pull her down for a kiss. It was slow, sensual, missing all the roughness from earlier. She could feel Caitlyn touching her, her slender fingers dipping in between her legs and inside of her. Maddie moaned against Vi’s lips, rocking her hips in tandem with Cait’s fingers. Vi’s free hand was aimlessly roaming her body, feeling the goosebumps along her back, the dip of her waist, and the swell of her ass. She could easily get lost in this letting the two women touch and play with her body however they pleased.

Then, she felt Caitlyn’s fingers leave her, only to be replaced by something much thicker. She gasped, turning around to look at Cait.

“Caitlyn…”

“I know how you are, Maddie,” Cait warned. “Don’t bother trying to run.”

With that, Caitlyn slowly pushed in, stretching Maddie out on the toy. Though it was well lubricated with Vi’s own release, it was still a tight fit.

“Oh my god!” Maddie cried. “Caitlyn, that’s too big!”

She tried lifting her hips forward to alleviate the pressure, but Vi was quick to stop her, using her strength to keep her in place.

“Didn’t she just say not to run?” Vi muttered. “Gonna disobey the sheriff?”

Before Maddie could muster a reply, Caitlyn was pushing forward again, gripping Maddie’s hips tightly to make sure she didn’t try moving. Maddie’s jaw dropped, eyes rolling to the back of her head as she was stretched to the limit. Her head was spinning; the toy was hitting every spot inside of her. When Cait finally bottomed out, Maddie felt a shiver run up her spine, tears welling in the corners of her eyes from the stretch.

“Aw, don’t cry,” Vi taunted. “You’re taking it so well, Mads.”

Maddie whined, sharp nails digging into Vi’s broad shoulders as Caitlyn started a slow pace, sheathing herself completely with each deep thrust. Maddie couldn’t help but try to pull away each time the tip kissed her cervix, but Caitlyn made sure to keep her in place so she wouldn’t go too far.

“Fuck,” Caitlyn groaned from behind her. She could see everything from her angle: Maddie’s walls fluttering around her cock as she tried to accommodate the size, strings of Maddie’s arousal stretching out between her pussy and Cait’s hips each time she pulled out, Vi tangling a hand in Maddie’s hair as the pair in front of her sloppily made out, one of Maddie’s own hands slipping between Vi’s legs to play with her clit; the straps of the harness rubbing oh so well against her clit wasn’t making her situation any better. Shit, if she didn’t make Maddie cum before she did, she wouldn’t be able to fuck her the way she’d liked.

Caitlyn quickened her pace, fucking Maddie with short and deep thrusts that had the sound of skin slapping together echoing throughout the room. Her nails dug into Maddie’s waist, pulling the woman’s hips back to meet her with each push forward.

Maddie pulled away from Vi’s lips to look back at Cait.

“Fuck… Caitlyn you’re so deep…”

“Takin’ her like a fuckin’ champ,” Vi replied before Cait could, grabbing Maddie’s hair and pulling her back to her lips.

Caitlyn huffed, breaking her gaze away from the two women to focus on the strap fucking into Maddie. She was dripping onto the sheets at this point, and the dildo had a white ring around it.

“Damn it,” she grunted under her breath. She slowed her pace down, giving herself a chance to come down before she reached her peak too soon. 

Maddie whined against Vi’s lips, pushing her hips back as a wordless plea for more. Cait smacked her ass in reply, causing the ginger to yelp.

“You really are an impatient one, aren’t you?” Cait grumbled. “If you want to finish this prematurely, just say the word. I can grant you that request.”

Vi chuckled, pulling Maddie away from their kiss.

“Aw, you’re being so hard on her, Cupcake.” Vi grinned as she took in Maddie’s expression, heavy with unabashed desire, lips wet and bruised from their harsh kissing. “You’re fucking her so good, and she just wants more, isn’t that right, Mads?”

Maddie nodded, a strained sigh escaping her lips.

“Mmh, I can give you that… say aah…”

Vi slipped two fingers deep into Maddie’s mouth, biting her lip when she gagged on them. Vi didn’t leave them in there for long, pulling her fingers out and smirking when a string of saliva stretched out from her lips. Then, she slipped her hand down Maddie’s back and right in between her ass cheeks, using one of her fingers to circle the place Maddie’s never been touched before. Maddie gasped into the crook of Vi’s neck, whimpering as the redhead’s finger continued rimming her ass.

“Yeah, you like that, huh?” Vi smirked. “Wonder if you’d even let me put it inside…?”

It was only a taunt, a teasing suggestion, but the way Maddie reacted to the possibility of having a finger in her ass turned it into a reality.

“Please,” she begged. “P-Put it in, Vi, please!”

Vi scoffed. “You’re something else, you know that, Nolen?”

Cait leaned forward just a bit, letting a dribble of spit fall right onto Maddie’s pucker. Vi teasingly pressed her middle finger against her, until Maddie pushed her hips back once more, showing that she really did want this.

Vi didn’t make her wait any longer, slowly pushing her middle finger into Maddie’s ass, right down to the knuckle. Maddie keened, her nails digging into Vi’s shoulders. At the same time, Cait gradually picked up her pace, fucking her pussy while Vi fingerfucked her ass.

Fuck, Maddie was on Cloud 9 right now. She couldn’t even think straight, the dual stimulation making her absolutely melt from pleasure. She was letting out incoherent babbles into Vi’s shoulder, completely unable to form full sentences. Suddenly, she felt a harsh hand tangle in her hair, and she was being pulled upwards. She had to hold herself up with her own hands, whimpering at the stinging sensation on her scalp. It was Cait’s hand, using her grip on Maddie’s hair to fuck her harder, deeper.

“I can’t believe one of my own subordinates turned out to be such a slut,” she huffed. “Letting Vi stick her finger in your ass? Needing both of us to satisfy you? You’re just insatiable, aren’t you?”

Maddie couldn’t even reply, each thrust of Cait’s dick and Vi’s finger knocking the wind out of her.

“Just look at her, Cupcake, she’s fucking addicted,” Vi added, “won’t be surprised if she starts following us around like some lost puppy.”

Maddie should’ve felt insulted, she really should’ve… but the couple was right. Her tryst with Caitlyn was quite enjoyable while it lasted, but having both of them… ‘fucking amazing’ couldn’t even begin to describe it.

Vi’s free hand snaked between Maddie’s legs to play with her clit, and it was over for her.

“Haa… I-I’m gonna cum!”

Maddie’s orgasm was powerful, so much so that she ended up squirting and soaking the bed sheets (and Vi) with her release. She trembled violently, wave after wave of aftershocks had her body pulsating. Caitlyn let go of her hair, and Maddie slumped against Vi’s chest, eyes squeezed shut as she attempted to catch her breath. Vi slipped her finger out, using both hands to massage Maddie’s waist.

Caitlyn, however, was not finished. After staving off her own orgasm for so long, she was right at the edge of release. She leaned over Maddie, grinding against her ass despite her weak whines of protest.

“Just take it Mads,” Vi shushed, “Let her cum first, she’s almost there.”

Maddie started to sob from overstimulation, one of her hands reaching back to grasp onto Caitlyn’s leg. Cait ignored her, squeezing her eyes shut as she only focused on getting herself over the edge. Her hips stuttered the closer she got, and she lost her rhythm, but soon she was groaning with bliss, her orgasm washing over her. She fucked herself through her orgasm until she physically couldn’t take it anymore, and she pulled the dildo out of Maddie with a slick ‘pop!’

Maddie slumped forward, dropping her hips to rest her entire weight on Vi. Caitlyn, on the other hand, slumped onto the mattress, silently catching her breath. 

“Well, that was fun…” Vi finally spoke after a while.

Caitlyn hummed, her lips forming into a tired smile. “Certainly…”

“What about you, Mads?” Vi asked the woman on her chest, only to be met with silence.

“Maddie…?”

Nothing but soft snores left Maddie’s lips, and Vi let out a soft chuckle. 

“Well, what do you know, we fucked her right to sleep.”

Caitlyn lifted herself up onto her elbow, resting her head in her hand. “I’m glad she enjoyed herself.”

Very gently, Vi turned to lay Maddie on the bed, before standing up. She put a hand out to Cat, who took it to stand as well. She helped Caitlyn take off the strap-on, even though she could very well remove it on her own.

“Let’s get cleaned up.”

As their legs were still feeling the effects of their long fuck session, even the short walk to the bathroom had the couple walking funny.

“To be honest, I’m glad we did this,” Vi said as she turned on the warm water. “But y’know… really is a shame I didn’t get to eat you out myself…”

Cait was silent for a moment, her heart beating loudly in her chest at the flagrant suggestion. With a sigh, she poked her head out of the bathroom door, noting that Maddie was still fast asleep, before shutting the two of them in.

“Make sure you don’t wake her up,” Cait muttered, as Vi was already descending to her knees.

“Well, that’s all up to you, now isn’t it?”

okay so what did y'all think...? was it bonita?