#and like. 'i warned you over and over again' maybe that's exactly what he wanted to avoid! knowing that jgs would have no scruples ordering

[withwritersblock]

That's So True

~That's So True by Gracie Abrams~

Author's Note: requested! this was fun to write. do I know what i wrote exactly, no I don't lol. Also another late post lol italics are flashback as always Summary: Luke ends his fwb with Y/N Warnings: implied smut Word Count: 8,980 Luke Hughes x fm!reader

She sat on the couch beside Mark, her childhood best friend. They went to UMich together on full athletic scholarships. He went for hockey and she went for volleyball. It wasn’t often that her friends and his friends got together. 

Many people assumed they were dating since they were always together but they were practically raised as siblings. There was a few years where they actually lived together because of her parents financial problems. So they would always brush off the dating rumors. 

Especially since they used to argue constantly exactly like siblings. Right now, they weren’t arguing but silently having a conversation. 

She kept watching Luke and the new girl make eyes towards one another from across the room. She was sure that the new girl was trying to get with Luke with the eyes that she was sending over to him. But Luke was probably trying to figure out what her intentions were. 

Luke was laying on the beanbag, scrolling through his phone as he mostly kept to himself. The new girl, she didn’t even know her name, was sitting beside Kaleigh. Y/N assumed the two were friends but the lack of conversation between them felt odd. 

Mark delicately tapped his hand against her arm forcing her gaze towards him. He gestured if she wanted a drink. Nodding, she stood up and they walked towards the kitchen together. Mark shifted his gaze towards Luke, rolling his eyes as he followed Y/N.

They stepped into the kitchen alone. She walked towards the fridge to take out another drink. 

“Are you alright?” he asked as he leaned against the counter.

“I’m fine,” she mumbled as she popped open the Truly can.

“Right, because we haven’t been sending daggers towards Luke since you stepped into the house,” he said half jokingly.

“I have not,” she mumbled before taking a long sip. Mark raised his eyebrows as he met her gaze. She clenched her jaw as she held the can below her. “Okay, maybe a little bit,”

“I know he’s my teammate and roommate but you’re you so if you say we hate him, then we hate him,” he explained as he walked towards her. She nodded as she stared towards the floor. Pressing her lips together, she nodded again. 

Lifting her gaze up, she began to blink rapidly to prevent the tears falling onto her cheek. “We hate him,” she let out barely above a whisper. Without hesitation he wrapped his arms around her, submerging her into a tight embrace.

“Then fuck him,” he whispered.

She sat on the couch beside Mark in his new house that he shared with five of his teammates. She’s known them for as long as Mark has. Because of how close she was with Mark she found herself always around.

Tonight was obviously no different. The house was getting crowded as more people were piling in for the party they were having. Mark was talking to a blond girl sitting in front of them. Her gaze kept switching towards Luke.

For the last few weeks they have been texting more and more. Mark knew that she had a crush on him, but he swore he wouldn’t say anything. So either he felt the same way, or she was obvious with her feelings.

He was typing on his phone, a smirk toying to his lips. After a few more moments she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. Glancing towards Luke, she met his gaze and she watched his cheeks pink. She pulled her phone out to see a text from him. “Meet me at my room in five,”

Lifting her gaze, she met his eye, he smirked as he slowly stood up from the beanbag. He smirked as he walked past her and Mark. A shaking breath left her lips as she brought her knees towards her chest. 

Mark glanced towards Luke as he walked past him before he looked towards Y/N. He fought the grin forming to his lips before he looked back towards the blond girl in front of him.

Y/N brought her Truly towards her lips and chugged the rest of her drink before delicately placing it onto the floor. “I’m gonna get another drink,” she said. 

“Uh huh,” Mark let out while laughing. She smirked as she rolled her eyes playfully. 

She wasn’t entirely lying, she walked towards the kitchen to get another drink before she slipped into Luke’s room.

She took another Truly from the fridge before she urgently walked towards Luke’s room. Her heart was beating out of her chest as she tried to add some liquid courage to her body. 

Delicately, she raised her hand up and knocked onto his door. It didn’t take long for him to open the door and allow her to step inside. He shut it, twisting the lock in the process.

She stood in front of the door, awkwardly holding her drink as she scanned his room. His bed was made and his room was nearly spotless, it was slightly shocking. He took a small step back towards his bed as he took a deep breath.

“Do you wanna watch a movie?” he asked as he pointed to his bed awkwardly. She smirked as she nodded. “Ethan invited like every person on campus, so the house is gonna get really crowded,” he explained as he sat down on the bed, looking up towards her.

Stepping towards him, she brought her drink towards her mouth; taking a long sip. After a few seconds, Y/N placed her drink on his nightstand before she sat beside him on the bed. Bumping her thigh against his, forcing his gaze towards her. He nodded as he scanned her features.

“What do you wanna watch?” he asked softly. Her gaze drifted towards his lips for a moment before she took a deep breath.

“Any recommendations?” she asked softly. His lips curled upward slightly as he nodded. 

He stood up from the bed, taking a hold of the TV remote on the nightstand as he walked towards the light switch. He turned the light off as he turned on Netflix. She slowly leaned against the headboard, pulling her knees up to her chest. Luke walked around the bed and laid beside her, adjusting the pillow beneath his head. 

She looked down towards him as he met her gaze. A toothy grin formed to his lips as he looked towards the screen. 

Luke put on a movie that both of them have seen hundreds of times. The movie had only been on for a few minutes when Luke turned onto his side to meet her gaze. 

“Hi,” he mumbled. Looking down towards him, she smiled softly.

“Hi, she replied as she looked into his blue eyes. He waved his finger asking her to lay down. “What?” she asked, a soft chuckle leaving her lips.

“Come ‘ere so I can kiss you,” he let out barely above a whisper. Her eyes widened slightly as another grin formed to her lips. 

“Oh really?” she asked softly as she slowly laying completely down on her side. Luke nodded as he took a hold of her thigh, pulling her closer to him. Their lips were only a mere inch apart. He hummed before he rubbed his thumb against her bare thigh. Her breathing started to quicken as she looked deeply into his blue eyes.

“Then what are you waiting for?” she asked barely above a whisper. He smirked before he leaned towards her, devouring her lips. A moan left her lips, as her fingers ran through his hair. Slowly, he raised his hand up from her thigh, trailing his hand up her body.

Slowly, she climbed onto his lap with their lips still connected. His hands glided up and down her thighs. She took a hold of his shirt and started unbuttoning it. He began to sit up, pulling the shirt away from his frame. He laid back down, her lips started trailing down his neck. 

She began to bite and suck the skin, swirling her tongue to sooth the skin. He swallowed hard as his hands started hiking the dress up her frame, wanting it off of her body. 

Her lips trailed back up, meeting his lips urgently. Grinding against his lap, his breathing caught in his throat. “Fuck,” he mumbled against her lips. She smirked as she slowly pulled away from him. 

Luke began to lean towards her, desperate for her lips again. Smirking, she climbed off of his lap. He reached towards her but she slipped off of the bed. “Hey,” he let out, breathing heavily. 

Standing beside the bed, she took a hold of the dress and started pushing it off of her frame. He smirked as he watched her slowly reveal her body. He dragged his tongue along his bottom lip as she stood in front of him.

Mark waited until she pulled away from the embrace, not wanting to rush her. He hated seeing her sad, but he was always going to be the one to hold her and make her feel better. It took another minute before she slowly slipped away from his body. She kept her gaze on his chest as she fought the tears forming to her eyes. 

After a long few seconds she lifted her gaze and met his eye, “I’m gonna go home,” she mumbled. His eyes widened as he stepped towards her, taking a hold of her arm.

“Because of him?” he asked, furrowing his eyebrows. She shrugged as Kaleigh walked into the kitchen. Stopping short, she crossed her arms over her chest shyly. “Hey, what’s up Kale?” Mark shifted his gaze towards her. Y/N wiped her hands across her cheeks. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she mumbled.

“You didn’t-” both Mark and Y/N said at the same time. She shifted her gaze from Mark at first and then towards Y/N. 

“I’m gonna head home,” she muttered as she delicately placed her drink onto the counter.

“Y/N,” Mark let out softly.

“I’m going home,” she said more sternly as she started walking out of the kitchen and out of the house. 

She stepped into the living room to see the new girl sitting in Luke’s lap as the group was laughing loudly. Luke lifted his gaze and met her eye. His smile faltered slightly as their eyes were connected. She stood still, watching her run her hand across his jaw to force his gaze towards her. Luke looked back towards the new girl, smiling widely again. 

He quickly looked back towards Y/N, nearly rubbing it into her face. Swallowing hard, she continued to look into his blue eyes. Her eyes squinted slightly as she watched him, run his hand up and down the side of her thigh. 

A huff fell from her lips as she continued to walk out of the house. She stepped onto the porch, a dry angry laugh left her throat as she turned her gaze towards the sky. Her eyes continued to tear up. 

Her house she shared with a few of her sorority sisters was only a few streets over. It was normal for her to walk from the house to Mark’s house. It was quiet as it was quite late at night. She started down the street like she always did. Usually, Mark or Luke would walk her back to her house.

“Hey, hey, hey-” Mark shouted as he followed her out of the house. She spun around to meet his gaze. She took a deep breath as he walked towards her; somewhat breathless.

Luke was on top of her, both of his hands on either side of her as he was kissing her urgently. Her hands were gliding along his cheeks and into his hair. He slowly pulled his lips away from hers as he started trailing wet kisses along her neck down towards her exposed collarbone.

“Fuck,” she whispered as she tilted her head back. He smiled as he tugged at the fabric of her tanktop. 

Her hands glided along his upper back, pulling his hoodie up his back. He sat back, smiling down towards her before he pulled his hoodie from his frame. He tossed it towards the floor before he climbed on top of her again, devouring her lips. 

After a few seconds, there was a loud knock against his unlocked door. Luke pulled away from her, laying beside her. He pulled the blanket beside them and tossed it over their frame as the door was pushed open.

“She’s my friend Hughesy, every time she comes over she ends up in here. Not fair. Let’s go Y/N,” Mark stood at the door, motioning her to leave the room. She glanced towards Luke, an apologetic smile on her face.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” Luke let out while chuckling. 

“Very fucking serious right now,” he let out with a dry chuckle, “My friend who I haven’t seen in weeks because she’s been fucking you every day. I deserve to see my best friend,” Mark explained very dramatically. Luke covered his face with his hands while laughing.

“Mark, seriously?” she said while laughing.

“You promised me when you two started hooking up that I would still see you. So come on,” he pointed towards the door again. Y/N shifted her gaze towards Luke. He rolled his eyes while fighting off a grin.  She slowly slipped off of the bed, adjusting the tanktop on her body. 

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” she teased as she walked out of the room. 

“Such a cock block,” Luke let out. 

Mark barked out a laugh. “You and your dick will survive one night,” Mark teased as he shut the door. She stood behind him, crossing her arms over her chest. “You and your-” Mark started before she shoved him. “Fine-alright, come on,” Mark said with a wide grin.

They walked down the hall towards his room and he pushed the door open. Y/N jumped onto his bed to take a hold of the Switch controller. Mark jumped and laid beside her taking a hold of the other one.

“So what’s the actual deal with you two?” Mark asked as he loaded up Mario Party. She fought the grin forming to her lips, her body heated up. She pressed her lips together, feeling Luke’s lips still on hers.

“We’re just-I don’t know,” she mumbled as she waited for the game to load. 

“So there’s nothing else going on?”

“Nope,”

“Just sex?”

“Just sex,” she repeated as she began to pick her character to play. He hummed as he took in a sharp breath.

“What are you doing?” he asked her as he ran his fingers through his hair. She took in a shaky breath as she tilted her head back. Another laugh fell from her lips as a tear fell onto her cheek. 

An image of Luke with the girl in his lap flashed in her mind as she clenched her jaw. Her entire body was shivering as she looked into Mark’s eyes. He was desperate to try and comfort her but there was nothing. 

She’s been heart broken before. Y/N had a few break ups back in high school, Mark was always there to take care of her. He’s even punched a few of her ex-boyfriends for the way that they treated her. She’s always come first.

“I can’t sit in there and watch that,” she forced out. Her lips quivered as she crossed her arms over her chest. Her arms were cold as the wind was starting to hit her skin.

Mark’s mouth fell open as he tried to find something to say to comfort her. She shook her head as she pressed her lips together. Mark stepped towards her again, watching her step back further. “I can’t be here!” she let out again, a sob falling from her lips. “He’s rubbing it in my face! He’s sitting there acting like we weren’t-” she trailed off as she wiped her hands across her cheeks. 

“I’m so sorry-” Mark said softly. 

“We spent-” she trailed off again while shaking her head once more. “I’m so stupid,”

“What?” Mark let out barely above a whisper.

He walked into her sorority house, smiling towards the girl that let him inside. He always forgot her name since he wasn’t at her house that often. She jogged down the stairs smiling towards him. He smiled widely as he held out his arms for her. Without hesitation she practically leaped into his arms. He chuckled while he held her tightly to his chest.

“Come on,” she whispered as she slowly slipped away from him. Luke didn’t hesitate as he followed her towards the steps. She jogged ahead, hoping he followed after her.

Turning the corner, she stepped into her room; spinning around to face him. He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. Twisting the lock, he stepped towards her; a teasing grin on his lips.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she let out as she looked deeply into his blue eyes. He smirked as he took a hold of her waist, spinning her to pin her against the door. 

“Now, we can’t be interrupted by your bestie,” he whispered dryly. She chuckled as she rested her hands onto his chest.  He raised his hand up, taking a hold of her cheek. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered before he pulled her towards him, kissing her urgently. Slowly, she tugged at his shirt; wanting it off of his body.

He pulled away from her, smiling as he tilting his head to the side. A smirk toyed to his lips as he stepped away from her. “Hey, where are you going?” she asked a small pout on her lips. He pursed his lips forward as he fought a grin forming to his lips. 

She tried to take a step towards him but he reached towards her instead. He took a hold of her waist tossing her over his shoulder. A loud giggle fell from her lips as she stablized herself against his back. Cautiously, he tossed her down onto the bed. 

He instantly climbed on top of her. A giggle fell from her lips as she grinned widely. Delicately, he pressed his lips against hers for a moment before he collapsed beside her, staring towards the ceiling. Rolling onto her side, she faced him. 

He lifted his arm up, allowing her to rest her head onto his chest. Luke ran his fingers through her hair before pressing his lips against the top of her head. Her heart fluttered against her chest as she shut her eyes for a moment. 

“You know,” she started, swallowing hard, “The girls are hosting this event thing where we’re supposed to bring a plus one,” she explained. He hummed. “We’re supposed to let Lydia know who we’re bringing with us,” 

“Aren’t those things reserved for boyfriends?” he asked as he glided his hand up and down her back. 

Scrunching her features together for a moment before she took a deep breath, “I’ve taken Mark to one before. I just thought that maybe since it’s supposed to be a date thing that- you could come along,” she let out barely above a whisper. He pressed his lips against the top of her head again.

“Maybe the next one,” he let out before he took a hold of her chin. He forced her gaze to meet his eye. Subconciously, her lips fell into a pout. He glided his thumb across her bottom lip, “Baby,” he let out softly almost as if it was an apology.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. He leaned towards her, pressing his lips against hers softly. She glided her hands through his curls as he continued to kiss her deeply.

She sniffled as she shook her head, “I need to go home,” she mumbled again as she started walking down the sidewalk. Mark didn’t argue it this time as began to follow her. Slowly, she spun around to meet Mark’s gaze. “Mark.”

“It’s late, let me walk you back,” Mark offered as he started walking beside her. She didn’t argue it as she continued to walk. 

They stayed quiet for a moment as the wind was picking up. She brushed a few pieces of hair away from her face as she kept her gaze on her feet. Making sure to avoid every crack, a childhood habit that she continues to this day. 

“You’re not stupid,” Mark said as he shoved his hands into his pockets. Y/N didn’t stop walking, she kept her gaze onto the concrete below her. Her steps skipping over each crack between the concrete slabs. “You fell for him. That doesn’t make you stupid,” He further explained.

She didn’t reply but he knew that she took what he said to heart.

“You don’t need a guy like him anyway,” he mumbled. She hummed as they turned the corner towards her house. “I’ll hate him as long as you need me to hate him,” he expressed. She chuckled as she rolled her eyes playfully. 

“You can’t hate him, he’s one of your best friends,” she countered.

“Yeah but he hurt my best friend, so we hate him,” he let out, a teasing grin on his face. “But I still gotta play and live with him so I can’t always hate him,” 

After a few seconds, they finally stepped up the porch to her house. They stood outside the door, and her gaze was still staring towards the ground beneath her. Finally lifting her gaze, she looked into his eyes and nodded slightly.

Leaning towards her, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her towards his chest. She wrapped her arms around the center of his back as a shaky breath left her lips. 

For the longest time, she hated hugs. Something about the contact was always so intimate and awkward. It was rare if she ever hugged family let alone Mark. But as her first year at college progressed, needing a hug was all that she ever really needed. 

Anyone’s embraced made her feel better, but right now she wished it was Luke instead of Mark hugging her the way he was.

“Thanks,” she mumbled before she slipped away from him. Keeping her head low, she pushed the door open and stepped into the house. Shutting the door behind her, she continued walking towards the stairs. 

“Hey, who just dropped you off?” Lydia asked as she emerged from the kitchen with her boyfriend, Darren. His arms were around Lydia’s waist as she guided him into the entryway. 

Y/N took in a sharp breath, “Mark,” she let out before she started to walk up the steps again. Lydia slowly pulled away from Darren as she tried to decide if she should follow her up the steps. 

“Normally you don’t come home until the morning if your at their house,” she explained, slightly confused. Y/N paused for a second as she met Lydia’s gaze. 

“Luke and I aren’t-” she waved her hand slightly, “-Anymore. It was awkward so Mark brought me home. I mean is that okay?” she asked, feeling herself get teary eyed in the process.

“Oh yeah, definitely. Just strange. I’m sorry about Luke. You guys seemed great together.” she explained as she shifted her attention towards Darren.

“Good night guys,” she mumbled as she jogged up the remaining steps towards her room.

~~~

His head was rested in between her legs as they were watching a TV show together. She was also doing homework, which is why he wasn’t laying with her and more or less laying on her. 

His hands were gliding up and down the inside and outside of her thighs. There was no consistent pattern in his movements, it was whatever he was deciding to do in that second. His motions were also intended to distract her, pull her attention towards him. 

“Hey,” he mumbled as he pressed his lips against her inner thigh. A hum fell from her lips as she continued to type on her computer. “Are you almost done?” he whined out before he pressed his lips against her skin again, this time longer. Tilting his head back, hoping to meet her gaze instead was met with her back of her laptop. 

“Luke, you know this is due tonight,” she expressed as she continued to type. 

“Tonight, as in we can do stuff now and you’ll still have time to get this done,” he muttered.

His fingertips were gliding up and down the inside of her thigh, watching her skin erupt in goosebumps. His lips curled upward before he pressed his lips against her skin again.

“Not happening until I am finished with this,” she expressed, a laugh falling from her lips. Luke’s lips fell into a pout.

“How much do you have left?” he questioned as he sat up slightly, looking down towards her. His hand was still gliding up and down her thigh teasingly. Looking past her laptop, meeting his gaze, she rolled her eyes playfully before she rested it beside her. 

“You are so impatient,” she let out teasingly. He smirked before he parted her legs once more. Squinting her eyes slightly as she watched him momentarily. Slowly, gliding his hand lower and lower to take a hold of her loose shorts. Luke twisted the fabric between his fingers. He began to tug them from her frame slowly. 

“Luke-” she sat up squirming away from him, giggles falling from her lips. He smirked while rolling his eyes playfully. 

“Fine,” he drew out the word for a few seconds, “I’ll behave while you finish you’re assignment,” he stood up and walked toward the head of the bed. He leaned down and pressed his lips against hers for a moment. 

He pulled away as he delicately took a hold of her chin, “So beautiful,” he whispered before he pecked her lips. “I’ll go get us some food,” he mumbled against her lips before he kissed her again. 

“That’d be great,” she whispered.

“I’ll be back, my love,” he whispered before he started heading out of the room.

It had been a few days since she last saw Mark or Luke. The idea of avoiding their house was already circulating her mind but the fact that they had an away game, made it easier for her to do that.

She hasn’t been bed ridden from a break up since her first boyfriend broke up with her when she was fourteen. But can she even constitute what she had with Luke a break up? They were never officially together. It was six months of spending nearly every day together. It wasn’t just sex. It was the moments before and after they did it that mattered.

She had fallen for him without fulling realizing that she did. One minute, he was just her friends with benefits and the next, she was in love with him. She confessed her feelings for him a month after she realized that she had them. Which led to the end of whatever they were doing. 

Luke didn’t want a relationship. He didn’t want to start up anything with anyone if he was heading to New Jersey. It was always on his mind that one day he would have to drop everything to join the NHL. He didn’t want a single thing holding him back. Which meant no girlfriend. 

Despite Y/N practically being his girlfriend anyway. If he didn’t want a girlfriend, why did he spent all of his free time with her? Cuddling with her? Kissing her? Holding her when she was sad? Why did he do all of that, if it was never that serious.

Deep down, she knew that he never meant to hurt her. He was only doing what felt right and she could handle that, sure, but seeing him afterwards hurts too much right now.

There was a knock on her door and a groan fell from her lips, which the person at the door took as a come in.

“You are going out tonight,” Lydia said simply as she walked towards the bed. She took a hold of the comforter and tossed it off of Y/N’s frame. Another groan fell from her lips as she covered her head with a pillow. Lydia reached over and took the pillow from her grasp. “You need to go to the bar and let hot men buy you drinks and you need to dance,” Lydia said as she smacked her hands against the bed. 

“No,” she said as her voice cracked. She covered her face with her hands.

“You are getting up from this bed, showering and making yourself look hot as fuck and you are going to get drunk,” Lydia begged as she took a hold of Y/N’s arm, physically pulling her from the bed.

“This is peer pressure, you know,” Y/N mumbled as she crossed her arms over her chest. Looking into Lydia’s gaze. A smile flashed to Lydia’s lips.

“It’s only peer pressure if it works,” she said jokingly. Y/N rolled her eyes as she started walking towards her bathroom. Lydia clapped excitedly as she walked out of Y/N’s room.

Stepping into the bathroom, her gaze landed on her reflection in the mirror. It was shocking to see how she looked. She definitely needed a little reset. Maybe it would be good for her. She stepped towards the shower, turning it on.

The next three hours, she spent listening to loud music and taking forever to make sure her hair and makeup looked perfect. 

She stared at her closet, pulling out different dresses. For a while nothing was right, each dress was too tight or too flowy. Each dress it the ground and stayed there until she found a tight black dress with mesh long sleeves. 

She stepped into the bathroom, looking into her reflection; she felt hot and definitely looked that way.

“Y/N, it’s almost eleven, are you ready yet?!” Lydia yelled from the lower level of the house. 

“One second!” she shouted back as she took a hold of her favorite perfume bottle. Instantly, spraying her entire frame with the mist. Delicately, she placed it onto the counter before she leaned down and took a hold of the stilettos beside her. Slipping them on quickly before she heads out of the room towards the stairs.

Walking down the steps, she smiled towards Lydia and Darren as she walked down the steps, “Hot damn girl,” Lydia said as she fanned herself. Y/N grinned as she kept her gaze on the steps, making sure she didn’t trip down the stairs.

Her friends and Mark’s friends were getting together to throw an athletes only rager at Mark’s house. Usually, athletes remained under the radar but one time a year they throw a huge party just for themselves. Making sure, no cameras were around in the process. Everyone’s phones were turned off or kept at home. 

She had on a tight black dress with mesh sleeves that she always felt hot in. She stepped into the house with her teammate and friend, Dina. 

Luke was sitting on the couch beside Ethan. They were engaged in a conversation but Luke stopped talking the second he laid eyes on Y/N. He sat up straighter as he bit his bottom lip while fighting off a grin.

Ethan wasn’t hiding the fact that he was checking her out as well. He dragged his hand across his chin as he stood up and walked away.

“I’m grabbing a drink,” Dina said before she slipped into the party, smiling towards a group of linemen from the football team. 

Y/N smiled towards Luke as she continued walking towards him. He pursed his lips forward as he scanned her frame. It was safe to say that she was the sexiest girl in the room. She stood in front of him for a second before she sat down beside him. He smiled towards her for a moment.

Without hesitation, he took a hold of neck and pulled her towards him; devouring her lips. After a few seconds she pulled away from him, he slipped his hand from the base of her neck towards her cheek. “You are so-” he mumbled against her lips before he kissed her urgently again. 

Slowly, she pulled away from him. “Wait,” she muttered before she leaned fulling back. She dragged her thumb across his lips, trying to clean the lipstick left on his mouth. “So impatient,” she mumbled before standing up from the couch. He leaned back on the couch trailing her steps with his eyes. 

He ran his hand across his lips as he shook his head as a chuckle fell from his lips. 

She continued to walk into the kitchen in dire need of a drink. The house was already pretty crowded with most of the hockey, football, and volleyball team were there. She walked towards the counter and immediately started pouring out a vodka shot.

“Some show,” Mark teased as he walked up beside her. She chuckled as she instantly took the shot. A groan fell from her lips as she shook her head. “He’s obsessed with you,” 

“I don’t blame him,” she mumbled with a smirk on her lips. Mark barked out a laugh as he started pouring himself a mixed drink with vodka and lemonade. She poured out another shot; meeting Mark’s gaze. After a few seconds she took the shot, this time it went down smoother. 

“Can you at least keep his tongue out of your throat in my living room,” he said half jokingly. She laughed while turning to meet Mark’s gaze.

“I’ll think about it,” she teased as she continued out of the kitchen.

“Thank you,” Y/N mumbled before she stepped off of the last step. “Let’s go before I change my mind,” she explained as she chuckled.

“Darren go, go, go,” Lydia said while laughing. Darren tossed his head back while laughing. He took a hold of his keys as he began the charge out of the house. “Everyone’s meeting us at that bar a few streets over,” she explained as she happily swayed her hips back and forth towards Darren’s car. He was already at the car unlocking it. He climbed into the driver seat and turned on the car. 

“As long as I can drink, I’m okay with anywhere,” Y/N said as she climbed into the backseat of the car. Lydia reached for Darren’s phone to start searching for a playlist to listen to on the short ride to the bar.

The ride to the bar was fast as they truly only listened to one song the ride there. Darren put the car into park and immediately turned the car off and jumped out. Lydia was not too far behind but Y/N stayed inside the car. Her eyes were watching the line form outside the bar. It was crowded, like it always was on a Friday night in their college town. 

It was easy getting ready; putting the makeup on and doing her hair was easy and fun. But now that she actually has to step foot into the bar; her legs felt like jello and her mind was hazy. Lydia stood outside the car door and pulled it open for her. 

“Come on, sexy thing,” Lydia said as she reached over and unbuckled the seatbelt. Swallowing hard, Y/N reluctantly stepped out of the car. “It will be fun,” Lydia whispered. Y/N nodded as she glanced towards the entrance. “After a few shots maybe,”

“Yeah, maybe,” she mumbled as she followed after the pair towards the entrance to get in line for the bar. It was cold but her body ran hot from the debilitating anxiety all over her body. 

The line moved fast and majority of the people in line had IDs. There were a few people that needed X’s on their hands. After they stepped inside, the music was loud and vibrated her chest. Lydia leaned into her, whispering something but she couldn’t hear anything. 

Her eyes landed on all too familiar sight. Luke was sitting against the bartop with the girl from the other night. She was standing in between his legs laughing as she ran her fingers through his hair. Y/N was near the entrance, people cussing at her to move but she refused. She kept staring towards the pair. 

The girl shifting her gaze towards Y/N. Their eyes met and her smile faltered before she took a hold of Luke’s chin and kissed him urgently. Clenching her jaw, she forced her gaze towards the floor. Lydia took a hold of her arm trying to drag her deeper into the bar. 

“Don’t look at him,” she shouted towards her as they walked to the opposite end of the bar to get away from him and the girl. God, she wished she knew her name. 

Leaning against the bartop, Lydia shouted towards the bartender. He shifted his gaze towards Y/N and she took a deep breath. “Espresso Martini please,” she yelled towards him. He nodded as he started making the drinks. Shifted her gaze down the bar to see the girl sitting alone and Luke no where to be found.

It didn’t take long for her to get her drink. The bartender handed her the drink and she brought it towards her lips instantly. It was the best drink she’s had in ages. Especially since for the last few months all she’s been drinking is seltzers. 

Lydia sipped her rum and coke and began to walk towards the center of the bar that had a dance floor. Y/N stayed put as she chugged her espresso martini. She placed the empty glass onto the bartop; already feeling hot from the alcohol in her system. 

The bartender smirked. “Another?” he yelled. Y/N leaned against the counter top and nodded with a smirk on her lips. “This ones on the house, pretty girl,” he continued. Y/N smiled widely as she winked towards the bartender. It didn’t take long for him to place another drink in front of her.

“Thank you,” she hollered towards him as she walked towards the dance floor. It could’ve been the lack of food in her body or the placebo effect but she was feeling tipsy already. It definitely was the placebo effect and she was grateful for it. 

The bar was playing early 200s rap music and she was swaying and singing along without a care in the world. Lydia, Darren, and her were dancing for an hour. A new drink in her hand every fifteen minutes. Lydia and Darren were dancing with each other, swaying and singing in each other’s faces. While she was dancing alone, dancing away from any guy that tried to dance with her.

It was probably her fourth or fifth espresso martini within an hour and she knew she was going to regret it later. But right now, dancing and drinking away her heartbreak was everything she needed. It didn’t help that she kept getting glimpses of Luke dancing with the girl. 

Y/N couldn’t tell if Luke saw her but she knew that the girl did. Every time that she saw the pair, the girl kissed Luke urgently. Almost as if to brag that they were together. For the first time in a few days, she didn’t care. She didn’t care that he was with someone else. Didn’t care that she was single, alone, and heart broken. It was like she was normal and happy.

But she knew that was the espresso martinis and she would feel awful in the morning but she was happy. 

Tapping her hand against Lydia’s shoulder, she took her attention. “I’m gonna get some air,” she shouted. Lydia nodded before she began to dance with Darren again. Y/N slipped through the crowd towards the patio. She shoved the door open and stepped outside. Taking in a deep breath, she walked towards the fence blocking the patio in. 

Leaning against it, she began to watch all of the people walking towards the entrance, trying to figure out what their stories might be. 

“Y/N?” a voice rang out. A voice she’s gotten used to hearing for months. 

She sat on the couch with Mark beside her as they were both playing Mario Kart. Luke wandered out of his room, a wide grin on his face as his eyes lit up once he saw her. “Markie, keeping my girl all to yourself?” he asked teasingly. He walked towards the couch, taking a hold of Y/N’s chin and delicately leaning down and kissing her softly. 

“Hughesy, she’s my best friend,” Mark said while laughing. “Not like she’s your girlfriend,” Mark expressed as he leaned forward while starting a new game. Her smile faltered for a second before she pushed it back onto her lips. Luke fought a grin forming to his lips before he squeezed his way onto the couch. 

Dramatically, he wrapped his arm around Y/N’s shoulder; pulling her to his side. He pressed his lips against the top of her head as he started gliding his fingertips across her exposed shoulder and into her hair. His gaze was admiring her side profile. 

“When’s that happening by the way?” Mark asked, teasingly.

“Mark don’t,” she scolded. Luke didn’t even blink as he switched his gaze towards his phone. “Luke, do you want to join? Mark’s got another controller in his room,” she questioned.

“Yeah, why not,” he mumbled as he stood up from the couch and wandered towards Mark’s room. 

“Will you stop?” she paused the game as she shifted her gaze towards him. Mark dropped the controller into his lap. “I told you we’re just hooking up,” she whispered.

“I’ve had my fair share of friends with benefits and I’ve never done anything that you two do,” Mark said as he leaned towards her. “I’ve never done this,” he trailed off as he pressed his lips against the top of her head, “Only done that with a girlfriend.” he said with a smirk before he leaned back. 

Pressing her lips together, she tilted her head back against the couch. “Don’t talk about it with him around,” she muttered. Mark nodded as Luke walked back out into the living room. He squeezed himself back into the couch as he reached his hand over and took a hold of her thigh as she restarted her match with Mark. 

Luke delicately dragged his fingertips along her thigh as he waited for his turn to join the game. His gaze was admiring her side profile again. He leaned towards her as he delicately pressed his lips against her cheek. 

Shutting her eyes, slowly she spun around to see Luke standing behind her. His cheeks were red and sweaty. His hair was a little messy but he looked good. “Are you okay?” he asked softly, stepping towards her.

Lowering her gaze towards the floor, she took a deep breath, “I’m fine,” she mumbled or slurred she couldn’t tell. 

“Let me take you home,” he let out, stepping towards her.

“I just got here,” she said while crossing her arms over her chest.

“You’re drunk,” 

“I’m fine, Luke,” she let out while shaking her head. 

“You can barely stand up,” he said as he took a hold of her arm. Yanking it away from him, she looked into his eyes.

“Don’t touch me," she forced out.

“Please let me get you some water at least,” 

“You don’t get to look at me, you don’t get to care about me,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. He took another step towards her, “You don’t get to pretend to love me anymore,”

“Do you seriously think I was pretending?” he asked while furrowing his eyebrows. He clenched his jaw as he tilted his head to the side. Trying to see if she truly meant what she said. 

“I was in love with you, don’t you get that?” he let out while shaking his head. Scrunching her features together, she tried to sober up to fully process what he was saying. He took a hold of her cheeks. Her eyes softened as he glided his thumbs across the apples of her cheeks. Her hands rested onto his chest. 

“The moment I realized I was in love with you I had to step away because it won’t be fair to you when I leave,” he expressed, he looked over her features as he looked deeply into her eyes. “I tried keeping my distance from you, keep as casual as I could but you are literally impossible to not fall in love with,” 

“If you’re in love with me then why is her tongue down your throat every other minute,” she choked out. Shaking his head, he shifted his gaze towards the sky. 

“I don’t know,” he let out.

“You don’t know?” she let out while laughing. “Goodbye Luke,” she mumbled as she started walked away from him. 

“Y/N, please,” he delicately took a hold of her arm. 

“I’m drunk, I’m not doing this,” she forced out as she pulled her arm away from him and continued walking back inside of the bar. He stood in the patio watching her walk away from him. 

~~~

“Hey,” he whispered as he stood in the doorway. Y/N lifted her gaze from her phone, a smile formed to her lips as he slowly stepped inside. He twisted the lock as he walked towards the bed, tossing his jacket to the floor. 

“How was your practice?” she asked. A huff of air fell from his lips as he walked towards the bed. He sat on his bed, his shoulders slumping. Slowly, he fell onto his back. She rolled onto her side, he lifted his gaze to meet her eye. “Not good?” she questioned, a soft chuckle falling from her lips.

Her fingertips glided through his hair. Shutting his eyes, a smile of content formed onto his lips. “Coach made us skate lines. Fucking exhausted,” he mumbled. A soft giggle fell from her lips. 

“I’m sure, baby,” she whispered as she continued running her fingers through his hair. “What can I do?” she asked softly. A smirk formed to his lips before he puckered them. She smiled before she leaned down and kissed him softly. After a few seconds, he slowly sat up and looked down towards her. His blue eyes softened as he continued to admire her features. “What?” she let out quietly. 

He shook his head as he leaned down and delicately pressed his lips against hers. After a few seconds, he pulled away. “Wanna watch a movie an-and actually watch it?” he asked, a sleepy grin formed to his lips. She smiled softly as she nodded. He laid on his back, holding out his arms for her to lay with him. Without hesitation, she rested her head onto his chest. 

His hands glided up and down her back soothingly. Her fingertips glided along the fabric of his t-shirt. “Got any ideas?” she asked, lifting her head up to look down towards him. 

“Anything’s fine by me, baby,” he let out as he scanned her features. She nodded as she delicately rested her head back down onto his chest. He reached for the remote on the nightstand before he handed it over to her. “Harry Potter’s always an option,” he said before clearing his throat. Rolling her eyes playfully before she turned on the TV. 

“Which one?” she asked softly.

“Wait really?” 

“Which one before I change my mind,” she teased.

“Prisoner of Azkaban, obviously,” he muttered.

“Such a nerd,” she said as she began to turn on the movie. He hummed before he pressed his lips to the top of her head. Slowly he started running his fingers through her hair, twisting the end of it between his fingers.

Around an hour into the movie she was asleep, but Luke was still wide awake. Tilting his head to the side, he looked down and admired her sleeping features. His heart pounded hard against his chest. 

She was so beautiful and so perfect. She was everything he’s ever wanted in a girlfriend. But she was in Michigan and in a year from now we could be in Jersey. He clenched his jaw as he shifted his gaze towards the ceiling. His hand continued to glide along her back, he slipped his hand beneath her shirt, to feel her skin against his fingertips.

All he’s ever wanted and now he needs to let her go.

When she woke up, the first thing on her mind was her conversation with Luke last night. She was hungover, but not as violently as she thought she was going to be. On the other hand, Lydia and Darren were so drunk, they were passed out in her bathroom. She drank liquid IV before she fell asleep, knowing that it would help her in the morning.

Her memory was hazy but his words ran through her mind on repeat. He told her that he was in love. Which was nearly impossible to wrap her mind around the idea that he was. She was in love with him, she was sure of it. But there was no way he felt that way towards her. 

Instead of wallowing in bed, she decided to climb out of bed to cleanse the night away. Her shower lasted nearly an hour. Her music was loud and all she wanted to do was stay in the shower letting the water wash away all of her problems instead of facing it head on.

After the water started to run cold, she was forced to leave the safety of the shower. After washing every inch of her body and smelling like vanilla; she was satisfied as she covered her body with a t-shirt and a lose pair of shorts.

She walked towards the bed to see her phone vibrating on her bed. She sighed as she flipped it over to see Luke was calling her. No longer showing the contact photo she had of him. Sighing she brought her phone close to her ear as she answered. 

“Wanna go for a drive?” Luke asked, skipping straight to the point. Her mouth fell open as she tried to find something to say. “Y/N?” he let out.

“Uh, sure? Why?”

“Come outside,” he mumbled before hanging up. Slowly, she pulled the phone away from her ear as she stared towards it for a second. Sighing, she began to walk out of her room. Lydia yelled at her about being quieter, but she ignored her as she continued down the stairs towards the front door.

She pulled the door open and stepped outside to see Luke’s car in front of the house. Walking towards the car, she opened the passenger door and sat in the seat without looking towards him.

“Hey,” he let out quietly. She didn’t say anything, instead she put on her seatbelt as she kept her gaze in her lap. He put the car in drive as he started to pull out of the neighborhood they shared. “Can we talk about last night?” 

Ignoring him, she reached over and turned up the soft country music on his radio. Reaching a light, Luke shifted his gaze towards her. Their eyes connected for a moment before she shifted her gaze down towards her lap.

“Y/N, do you remember last night?” he asked quietly. 

“I remember,” she mumbled, “I just don’t want to talk about it,” 

“Y/N,”

“You told me you were in love with me but your tongue was done another girl’s throat minutes prior; and I was supposed to believe you?” she forced out. His mouth opened before it clamped shut, “Since you want to talk about it, let’s talk about that, Luke.”

“Everything I told you last night was true,” he explained. She huffed as she switched her gaze out the window. “Do you really think I was pretending?” he asked. She took in a deep breath as she tilted her head back fighting tears.

“We spent nearly every day together for six months and out of no where you end it over text; what else am I supposed to think?” 

“I ended it because I was scared,”

“Scared of what Luke?” she let out harshly.

“Hurting you,”

“Well, you did that anyway,” she mumbled. 

“Y/N,” 

“Seriously, Luke, how can you say that you love me and just makeout with another girl right in front of me?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” he let out while shaking his head. “I really thought I could keep enough distance from you to keep it casual. And then it stopped being casual and I was falling for you,” 

“What are you doing right now?” she asked while rolling her eyes. 

“I’m trying to fix this,” he let out as he pulled into a parking lot near one of their favorite restaurants they used to go to together.

“There is nothing to fix, Luke! You ended things with me and then two days later starting making out with a girl right in front of me. The only reason I got in this car was to tell you that you can’t tell me you love me after the way you treated me for months. We can be friends because of Mark but that’s it. Now turn around and take me home,” she explained as tears fell onto her cheek. 

He swallowed hard as he met her gaze. He chewed his bottom lip for a moment before he took a deep breath. “I really was trying to do the opposite of hurting you,” he mumbled. She nodded. 

“I know,”

[misaerabl]

Backbeat

band guitarist (kinda a loser) ellie x reader

MINORS AND MEN DNI / word count: 3.6k words

SUMMARY: Ellie, a shy guitarist in a local band, has been harboring a quiet crush on you, a barista who works at her favorite café. Despite her growing feelings, she struggles to express them. As the band's upcoming gig approaches, Ellie grapples with her emotions and finally gathers the courage to invite you to the show. WARNINGS: uhm none I guess... (SFW) A/N: leaning more into the format of "Feeding The Fire"

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆ 

The café was bustling as usual, the clink of cups and the hum of conversation filling the air. You wiped down the counter, your movements steady and practiced, as you glanced over to the usual spot where Ellie and her band sat. She was there again, like clockwork, though today she was being uncharacteristically quiet. You noticed how her fingers drummed lightly on the table, her gaze flickering over the menu, even though she knew exactly what she wanted.

It was then that Jesse, the band’s outspoken and confident guitarist, leaned across the table, his voice loud enough to cut through the noise. "Come on, Ellie," he teased, his grin wide, "you’ve been coming here for months, and you still haven’t even said more than, what—'I'll have a coffee'?" He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by her shyness.

Ellie’s face flushed, her eyes flicking to you behind the counter before quickly averting her gaze. "Shut up, Jesse," she muttered, her voice quiet, though her discomfort was evident in the way she tugged at the sleeve of her jacket, a nervous habit.

Jesse leaned back, clearly not backing down. "No, seriously. You’ve got a thing for the barista, don’t you?" His voice was louder now, and Ellie’s face went even redder. She didn’t answer, but the way she avoided looking at you gave her away.

The bandmates around them laughed, but Jesse’s teasing wasn’t over. "You’re practically obsessed with this girl. I swear, you could probably recite her coffee order by heart by now. How many times have you been here this week alone?"

Ellie didn’t reply. She kept her focus on the table, fiddling with the napkin holder like it was the most interesting thing in the world. You could see the mix of embarrassment and something else—something deeper—as her fingers drummed the table lightly, a subtle, rhythmic pulse that seemed to mirror the quiet beat of her heart.

Jesse, clearly enjoying the reaction he was getting, nudged Ellie’s shoulder. "Come on, admit it. You’re too shy to talk to her. You’ve got the biggest crush, and you're not doing a damn thing about it."

Ellie shot him a glare, but it was more out of habit than any real anger. She couldn’t deny it. She was smitten, but she’d never admit it out loud, at least not yet.

"She’s just a barista, Jesse," Ellie mumbled, but even her words were tinged with uncertainty.

Jesse, sensing the vulnerability beneath Ellie’s tough exterior, grinned wider. "A barista you keep staring at every time she walks by. Yeah, sure." He leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a teasing whisper. "What’s it gonna take to get you to talk to her? Or are you just gonna keep letting her serve you coffee in silence?"

Ellie shifted uncomfortably, her fingers tapping against the table again, almost like a rhythm she couldn’t quite control. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

"Come on," Jesse pushed. "Don’t let your chance slip away."

Ellie bit her lip, her gaze flicking over to you once more as you moved behind the counter, oblivious to the conversation unfolding. She felt that familiar flutter in her chest, the kind that always hit her when she saw you. But it wasn’t enough to make her act. Not yet. Not today.

"Maybe next time," she muttered, more to herself than anyone else.

Jesse raised an eyebrow. "Next time? You’ve been saying that for months." He nudged her again, and with a defeated sigh, Ellie slumped back in her chair, her thoughts tangled in the rhythm of her own unspoken feelings—her own backbeat.

Echoes of You

The soft hum of the world outside drifted through the window, but inside her room, Ellie’s focus was all on the quiet stirrings in her chest. The walls were lined with posters of bands she loved, her bed a mess of scattered clothes and guitar picks. The dim light from the lamp beside her flickered gently as she lay back, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought.

Her mind wandered to you—the barista with the gentle smile and the way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you greeted her, even though she barely spoke beyond her usual order. There had been something about you from the first time she stepped into the café, but now, with each passing visit, that something had grown, unspoken and undeniable.

She could still hear Jesse’s teasing voice in her head. “You’re just a shy little mess, Ellie. Just talk to her already.”

But it wasn’t that simple. How could it be? Every time she walked into that café, she felt her pulse race, her nerves jittery as if everything—her heart, her words, her courage—might suddenly slip through her fingers.

Ellie closed her eyes, the sound of her breathing deep and slow as she tried to center herself. But there you were again, your face lingering in the back of her mind. And in the quiet of her room, she couldn’t escape it. The rhythm of her thoughts was there, pulsing in her veins, like the backbeat she always felt when playing her guitar.

She sat up abruptly, her hands reaching for the instrument resting against the corner of her bed. The familiar weight of it felt comforting in her arms, grounding her in the moment. She began to strum absently, her fingers moving across the strings in a rhythm that was both calming and restless at once.

A quiet hum escaped her lips, something soft, something simple. It was a melody she’d been carrying with her for days now—just fragments, nothing complete. But it was all about you. In every chord, in every note, she could hear the undercurrent of her feelings—soft, but always there, steady, like a pulse beneath the music.

She let the melody fill the space around her, her thoughts drifting in and out as she let her hands move freely. Her voice followed, hesitant at first, then growing more certain. She wasn’t singing the words out loud—no, this was something much quieter, more intimate. It was the kind of song she’d been afraid to admit existed within her, let alone express.

The song took shape slowly, a kind of confession written not in words, but in notes. A simple tune, nothing grand, nothing flashy, just the truth she couldn’t bring herself to speak aloud.

You don't even know, but you make my heart beat slow... Every time you smile, it's like I'm running wild... I don’t know how to say it, but I think you might be it...

She paused, her fingers still on the strings, but the hum of the song had stopped. The silence in the room felt heavy now, almost as if the song had unlocked something inside her that she wasn’t sure she was ready to face.

The truth of it hit her then—she was writing a song about you. She had known it all along, but it was like the words on the page had made it real.

She bit her lip, the guitar resting in her lap now, her mind spinning. She wasn’t sure where it would go from here, or even if it would ever reach you. But there was something in the backbeat of the song, something deep and raw, that she couldn’t ignore anymore.

Ellie stood up from the bed, the song still echoing in her ears as she walked over to her desk. She grabbed her notebook and began to write the lyrics down. Her handwriting was messy, like her thoughts, but it was hers. It was real.

“Maybe one day, you’ll hear it,” she whispered to the empty room, a quiet smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Inviting the Rhythm

It was a quiet afternoon at the café, the usual midday rush having come and gone. You leaned against the counter, a soft tune playing from the café’s speakers as you wiped down a cup. There wasn’t much left to do, but you didn’t mind the calm. Your thoughts, however, wandered back to Ellie.

You hadn’t seen her yet today, but you knew she’d be here. It had become a familiar rhythm—Ellie would show up, usually with her bandmates, take her usual seat, and quietly sip her coffee while they chatted amongst themselves. But today, there was a shift in the air, something different. You didn’t know what, but you felt it.

And then you saw her. She walked in, but instead of heading straight to the table where she always sat, she hesitated by the door, as if weighing something. Her hands were shoved into her jacket pockets, her eyes flicking around the room nervously. It wasn’t like Ellie to come in alone.

You felt a pang of curiosity. It wasn’t lost on you that Ellie had been coming in for months now, but you never really had a conversation. Not a real one, anyway. You had always wondered why she kept coming, but every time you tried to make small talk, she clammed up, giving you short answers before retreating back into the comfort of her bandmates.

Today was different, though. She finally made her way to the table, but instead of sitting with the rest of the band, she pulled out a chair and sat by herself. The usual upbeat chatter from her bandmates was absent. Ellie’s gaze was fixed on the table, her fingers tapping in that familiar, anxious rhythm.

You made your way over, wiping your hands on your apron as you approached her table.

"Hey, Ellie," you greeted with a warm smile. "You’re alone today. What’s up?"

Ellie looked up at you, and for a split second, her expression was unreadable. There was a flash of uncertainty in her eyes, something you hadn’t seen before. Her fingers, which had been tapping on the table, stilled as she fidgeted with the napkin holder.

“Uh, yeah,” she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper. “The others are, uh, running late... or something. I... I thought I’d come early.” She quickly glanced at her phone, avoiding your gaze again.

You nodded, trying to keep the conversation light. "Cool. You don’t usually come in alone. Everything good with the band?"

Ellie shifted in her seat, clearly uncomfortable, but she managed a small nod. "Yeah, everything’s fine. Just... needed a change of scenery today."

You leaned against the table, giving her space but also wanting to know more. "Well, you know, you're always welcome here. If you need a place to think... or just get away."

Ellie met your eyes for a moment, and there was something about the way her gaze softened that made your heart skip. For a second, you thought she might say something—something more than just her usual shy smile or quick one-liner—but the words stayed locked behind her lips.

The silence stretched, and Ellie’s fidgeting resumed, her fingers tapping lightly on the table again.

"So... are you still coming to our gig on Friday?" Ellie suddenly asked, her voice steadying as she looked up at you.

You blinked, taken off guard by the sudden shift in the conversation. "Uh, yeah, I was planning on it," you replied, a little surprised. You’d heard about the gig from the band, but hearing Ellie mention it specifically made your stomach flutter. "Why?"

Ellie swallowed, her fingers still tapping nervously. "Well... I, uh... wanted to... you know, invite you. It’s not... it’s not just for the band or anything. Just... thought you might want to come."

You raised an eyebrow, unsure if you were hearing her right. She seemed so different today, more vulnerable, less guarded than usual. "You’re inviting me? Just me?" you asked, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

Ellie flushed, looking away quickly. "I mean... yeah," she muttered, "if you want to come. I—I’ll be playing, and... you could hear us. Just... don’t make it weird." She winced as soon as the words left her mouth, clearly regretting the awkwardness that had already settled between you.

You couldn’t help but smile at her shyness. "Of course, I’ll come," you said warmly, trying to ease the tension. "I wouldn’t miss it."

Ellie relaxed a little, the smallest smile curving her lips. "Great," she whispered. "I’ll... see you there."

You nodded, still caught off guard by her sudden openness, but something in her voice told you that this was more than just a casual invitation. There was a quiet hope beneath the words—Ellie was finally letting down her walls, even if it was just a little.

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. You knew this gig was going to be more than just music—it would be the start of something, a rhythm that would soon be impossible to ignore.

The Song in the Silence

The crowd buzzed with excitement as Ellie’s band played through their set, each song building momentum with the kind of raw energy only a live performance could bring. You stood near the back of the club, nestled between the sea of people, your eyes fixed on Ellie. Tonight, she was different—her nervousness was replaced by an undeniable confidence. Her guitar was like an extension of her, and with every strum, her entire body seemed to resonate with the music.

You had seen Ellie around the café countless times, shy, awkward, and always hiding behind her guitar when you’d run into her. But up on stage, she was a different person. There was a power in the way she played—her fingers gliding across the strings with ease, her posture commanding the space. Every song seemed to have a part of her, but it was the last one that caught your attention the most.

The band was playing their final song, and the vibe in the club shifted, the energy growing electric. Ellie was playing rhythm guitar this time, her eyes closed as she lost herself in the music. Her bandmates—Jesse on bass, Dina on lead vocals—were fully immersed, their music echoing through the venue. But every time you glanced at Ellie, she was slightly more distant, her focus intense as if she was preparing for something.

The song’s outro built slowly, and you could feel the anticipation hanging in the air like a held breath. Then, in a moment of stillness, Ellie leaned over to Dina, whispering something too quiet for you to hear. Dina, the lead singer, nodded in response, a sly smile tugging at her lips. The band finished the instrumental portion, and the crowd fell into an expectant silence.

Dina stepped up to the mic, her usual confidence now laced with a playful excitement. "Alright, folks, this next one’s a special one. You’ve been hearing a lot of us tonight, but now we’re gonna switch things up," she said, her voice carrying through the room.

You watched as Ellie adjusted the strap of her guitar, standing slightly straighter, her posture giving away a hint of nervousness. It was a different side of her, one you hadn't seen before. The music was still alive in her body, but something else lingered in the air.

Dina continued, a mischievous grin on her face. "Ellie’s gonna take over for this last one. Let’s show her some love!"

The crowd cheered, a wave of applause rippling through the room. Ellie looked out into the crowd, her expression a mix of surprise and nervousness, but she nodded as if steeling herself for something big.

She took a deep breath and, with one last glance at her bandmates, her voice came through the mic—not yet, but the promise was there. The beginning of a song. But this wasn’t just any song—it was different. You could feel it in the air.

The first notes rang out, and Ellie’s fingers moved deftly on her guitar, filling the space with the familiar chords of the song. Her eyes were fixed on the neck of the guitar as she played, but there was a shift—a subtle, almost imperceptible change. It wasn’t just the song; it was the feeling behind it, the energy that swelled in the room, pulling everyone’s focus.

And then, Ellie began to sing.

Her voice was soft at first, hesitant, but each word carried an intimacy that sent a shiver down your spine. It wasn’t just the lyrics—it was the emotion she put into them. As the chorus hit, the raw vulnerability in her voice reached deep into the pit of your stomach.

You didn’t know it yet, but the song was about you.

Ellie’s eyes flickered to you from the stage, and for a fleeting second, you caught a glimpse of something deeper in her gaze—something that was always there, but hidden behind the awkwardness and the shyness. The song was her confession, wrapped in the melody, hidden in the lyrics, as if she had poured everything she couldn’t say into the notes and words.

The crowd swayed, caught up in the music, but you couldn’t tear your gaze away from Ellie. The way she held herself now, the way she sang the song with a quiet desperation—like she was telling a secret only you could hear.

When the song ended, there was a brief moment of silence, followed by an eruption of applause. But you couldn’t focus on the crowd or the noise. You were still caught in the intensity of Ellie’s performance, her eyes finding yours once again, lingering for a moment longer than usual.

She set her guitar down with a shaky breath, her shoulders dropping as she stepped back from the mic. The room felt different, as if the weight of her confession still hung in the air, waiting to be acknowledged.

Dina was the first to break the silence, her voice light and teasing. "See? Told you she could do it. Ellie, you were amazing!"

Ellie didn’t answer at first, just looking down at her guitar. It was clear she was embarrassed—maybe even overwhelmed by the act of putting her feelings into that song. But for the first time, you saw her vulnerability laid bare, not in awkward moments or shy smiles, but through the very thing she loved most—her music.

The applause around you blurred as you finally allowed the truth to sink in. Ellie had just sung her heart out, and somehow, you knew it was for you.

The Confession in the Chords

The applause faded into a hum of conversations and clinking glasses as the band began packing up their gear. You lingered near the back of the club, unsure if you should stay or leave. Something about that last song tugged at you, lingering in the air like the final notes of a melody refusing to let go.

Ellie was still on stage, carefully coiling her guitar cable. Her usual awkward energy was back—head down, shoulders hunched—so different from the confident girl who had just sung her heart out. Jesse nudged her, whispering something that made Ellie shoot him a glare before he laughed and hopped off the stage, leaving her alone.

You hesitated, then made your way closer. By the time you reached the edge of the stage, Ellie had packed her guitar into its case but hadn’t moved. She looked up as you approached, her green eyes widening slightly in surprise.

"Hey," you said, your voice louder than intended over the buzz of the room.

Ellie blinked, then gave a small, shy smile. "Hey."

There was an awkward pause, the kind that usually made you uncomfortable, but now it felt charged, like there was something more waiting to be said. You broke the silence first. "You were amazing tonight."

Ellie ducked her head, her cheeks tinting pink. "Thanks. I—uh—didn’t expect you to actually come."

"Why wouldn’t I? You invited me," you replied with a small laugh. "And I’m glad I did. That last song..." You trailed off, searching for the right words. "It felt... personal."

Ellie froze for a second, her hand gripping the edge of her guitar case. "Yeah, uh..." She glanced around, as if looking for an escape route, then sighed and looked back at you. "It was."

You tilted your head, curious. "Who’s it about?"

She rubbed the back of her neck, her gaze darting everywhere but at you. "That’s, uh... kind of a long story."

"I’ve got time," you teased gently, crossing your arms.

Ellie finally met your eyes, her expression a mix of vulnerability and determination. "It’s about someone who makes me feel like I’m stuck in the background, like... like I don’t know how to say the things I want to say when they’re around."

Your heart skipped a beat at the weight in her words. "Ellie..."

She swallowed hard, her fingers twitching at her sides. "It’s about you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, but the words hit like a drumbeat, steady and sure.

The world seemed to blur around you, the noise of the club fading into a distant hum. Ellie’s gaze didn’t waver now, her earlier shyness replaced by a quiet resolve.

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. But then you smiled, warmth spreading through your chest. "I guess I should feel honored," you said, your tone light, though your voice betrayed your emotions.

Ellie chuckled nervously, scratching the back of her head. "Or creeped out. I don’t know—maybe both?"

"No, not creeped out," you assured her, your smile widening. "Not even a little."

Her shoulders relaxed, the tension melting away as she let out a relieved laugh. "Good. I was kinda terrified you’d think I was a weirdo."

"Well, you are," you teased, your grin turning playful. "But I think I like that about you."

Ellie’s mouth opened slightly, as if to respond, but instead, she let out another laugh, this one softer, more genuine. "Guess I can live with that."

For the first time, the silence between you felt easy, comfortable. The noise of the club returned, but it didn’t matter. In that moment, the backbeat of unspoken feelings that had been building for so long finally found its melody, and it was yours to share.

[letstrip13]

🔪 - mr and mrs ghostface

summary: a picture of LA's newest couple goes viral.. but no one knows who they are. who could they be?

warnings: just fluff! was written in a rush

word count: 865

author's note: sorry about this being posted almost a month after halloween, i hope it was worth the wait :) even though it's rushed and i hate the layout of it

author's note 2: read the last author's note at the end of the fic pleaseeee and go to the link on it too tysm!!

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october 31st was the day of the most highly anticipated influencer party of the entire year. it was very exclusive, only certain people could even get on the list. everyone knew about it and wanted to attend.

paparazzi were staged outside, awaiting the guests with bright camera flashes, capturing photos of them in their costumes. they continued to lurk outside throughout the party, desperate to catch any sign of anything worth releasing to the public.

they didn't find much, but they did see a mysterious couple leave the party for a few minutes before going back in. they released a photo of the two together and it immediately went viral.

“NEW IT COUPLE caught hanging around outside LA's most exclusive influencer party. Who could Mr. and Mrs. Ghostface be?”

------------------------୨୧-------------------------------

millions of likes and around twelve hours later, you wake up from a peaceful sleep in your boyfriend's arms. you had a good dream but you can't seem to remember it right now. you look up to check on matt and he's still fast asleep, messy brown hair scattered across his forehead, and lips slightly parted as soft snores escape them.

you roll over to check your phone which is charging on his nightstand. when doing so, you can see the matching ghostface masks on the floor by his closet. as soon as you look at your phone, you're overwhelmed by the amount of messages and missed calls from yours and matt’s friends.

you scroll through what seems like hundreds of them, trying to make sense of it all. you even peek over at matt's phone, seeing that it's the pretty much the same. finally, you see a message telling you to check LAnews on instagram.

you frantically open the app and type it into your search bar. your jaw drops when you check their most recent post. that “mystery couple” they posted about is you and matt. you shake his arm and he awakens with a startled grunt. “what is it?” he mumbles.

“look!” you put the screen in front of his face and he rubs his eyes trying to figure out exactly what he's looking at. “is that us..?” he asks. “yes!” he sits up, leaning back against the headboard as he stretches. “what are you freaking out about? they didn't say it was us.”

you sigh softly. “yeah, but,” you pause, “what if they find out?” he stays silent and puts his arm around you. “maybe it's about time they find out, baby. it's been almost a year.” your head leans onto his shoulder. “you're right.. but i don't want people to find out from them. it should come from us.”

“okay,” he murmurs as he stretches again, “i'm starving though, let's have breakfast first.” you nod in agreement. “how do pancakes sound?” he gets out of bed excitedly as if he wasn't woken up against his will two minutes ago.

you make your way into the kitchen, pulling the pancake mix out of the cupboard while matt gets a mixing bowl and a frying pan. you make the pancakes together, being careful to stay quiet so as not to wake up chris or nick.

you plate the pancakes, dividing them between you two and putting any toppings you want on them before sitting down and eating. you eat side by side in comfortable silence for a little while before he speaks up between bites, “so how do you think we should announce it?” he shovels another bite of pancake into his mouth as he awaits your response.

“i don't know.. maybe an instagram post? just some cute pictures of us and one from last night.” “yeah, i like that.” you fall silent which doesn't go unnoticed by him. “what are you thinking about?” “i'm just a little worried about what people are gonna say, you know.”

“don't worry about them. you love me right?” you nod at him. “and i love you. so that's it. that's all that matters and nothing will change that.” you realize that he's right. you love him too much to let anyone behind a screen interfere with that. “you're right,” you tell him, pausing to kiss him on the lips, “i love you.”

after finishing your breakfast and cleaning up the dishes, you sit down again and decide on the perfect pictures to use. it takes longer than you thought but you couldn't be happier with the way it turned out.

you hit share on the joint post before you both turn your phones off, awaiting the chaos of the media that will come about in the next few hours, or even days. it feels so nice and freeing to finally have everything out in the open, to have a real relationship and not have to hide anything.

you both catch yourselves glancing at your phones. “we should do something to distract ourselves,” you tell matt, “we can't just wait around like this.” a smirk crosses his lips and he picks you up unexpectedly. “i think i know what we could do,” he says as he runs off in the direction of his bedroom, leaving you giggling over his shoulder.

------------------------୨୧------------------------

check out my masterlist for more

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author's note 3: if you wanna see style posts and updates of madi, please give my friend pinkfilipowicz a follow! she wants to hit 100 followers by the end of the year and she's at around 30 rn i think. and follow her on tiktok too if you like madi edits!! <3

btw if that's not convincing enough, she found a shirt from a screenshot of madi's tiktok where you can't see it that well AND from a pic where you can barely see the shirt!! still shocked she found that and fast too so yk she's good at this. she's so seriously underrated i love her sm

[holylulusworld]

Every Breath you take (21)

Summary: There is a shadow following you. He doesn’t know what he got himself into.

Pairing: Stalker!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: a man out of time, secret admirer trope, “crazy” reader, fluff, domestic life

A/N: You all made me do it! Here’s the series to this random idea: Stalker Bucky & Crazy Reader

Catch up here: Every Breath you take (20)

Every Breath You Take Masterlist

Three months later, you and Bucky found a rhythm, literally. You’re slow dancing together, swaying to one of his favorite songs. Resting your head against his chest, you close your eyes and let Bucky guide your body.

Dancing aside, you found a rhythm to follow for your future together.

Trust is the key. You promised each other to have faith in your relationship. Bucky and you are in this together.

Maybe you started your relationship the crazy way, but this doesn’t mean it won’t last. His obsession and your level of devotion match.

You sigh, remembering all the nights you spent tangled in each other over the last months, as you sway.

“Doll, are you hungry?” Bucky murmurs, bringing you out of your daydreams. You place your head on his chest, smiling as you can hear his heartbeat. “We could have a snack, or do you want to cook together?”

You blink your eyes open and lift your head from his chest. “Hmmm…” you nod and rest your head back against his chest. “We could cook together again. Maybe we won’t burn it this time.”

“That wasn’t my fault,” he chuckles. “You distracted me with your wandering hands. How can a man resist if you call him sweet names and touch him like you do?

You giggle. Bucky is putty in your hands, and you love it. Both of you touch-starved to an extent; you can’t keep your hands to yourself most of the time.

Maybe it’s only the honeymoon phase, but you believe it’s more than this. Bucky and you are meant to be together; you just know it.

“We have the vegetables from the farmer’s market, chicken, and lots of cheese. Let’s look online if we find a good recipe.”

“You forgot the plums,” Bucky teases because you love to steal his favorite fruits. “Lots of them, baby doll. We can eat them for dessert.”

“Oh, I found a nice recipe for a plum cobbler with whipped cream. It sounds deliciously, Bucky. We could try to make it too. It’s not hard to make.”

“Do not forget, we are beginners,” Bucky jokes. “We don’t want to burn down the house.” He chuckles when you look up at him and stick your tongue out. “Last time you ended up burning the dishtowel.”

“That was an accident,” you point out. “Accidents happen, Bucky. Especially in the kitchen. We have to be more careful while cooking from now on. No distractions this time.”

“No more distractions,” Bucky nuzzles your hair. “I promise to not fall for you. I’ll focus on cooking, not my sexy girlfriend. He gropes your ass with both hands and purrs your name. “Let’s find a recipe, doll.”

“Wow! We made it,” Bucky hums while happily tasting the food you made. It doesn’t look bad. “Hmm... the cheesy chicken and vegetable pasta bake recipe you found is great.”

“I knew you’d like it.” You smile happily. Cooking with Bucky was fun. He even cracked a joke and told you a little more about his past. Mostly from his childhood, and how he loved to watch his mom cook. “We should do this more often.”

Bucky smiles. This is exactly what he had dreamed of for so long—sharing his life with someone he loves and filling the home he built with love.

All he misses is a little one running around your home. There is plenty of time to talk about children with you, too. For now, he must be patient and wait for the right time to ask you to have his child.

He’ll propose first, of course. Bucky is still a gentleman out of time. He won’t fill you with his baby without putting a ring on your finger.

“I’m so full,” you say, and rub your belly. “I bet that’s how you feel when pregnant.” You pat your belly, giggling. “What do you think, Buck?”

Bucky stares at your belly. He licks his lips, imagining you all swollen with his child. Something else stirs in his belly than hunger—or rather, a different kind of hunger. “You think so?” His voice is a little rougher when he looks at you. “Do you think you’ll like feeling a baby inside your belly?”

“Bucky,” you purr his name. You crook your finger to lure him in. “Do you want to have a baby one day?”

“Yeah—” he husks. “So bad. I can see you all swollen, breasts leaking milk. I’d rub your belly while…”

You whimper and shift in your seat. “Uh—we don’t have to have one right now, but…” You smirk and pucker your lips. “I’d like you to breed me tonight…”

Tags in reblog.

[daydreams-after-dark]

feel like ive sent a lotta requests to u for some reason? 😭 but rn i have the idea of usually dom! fem.reader being asked if sub!skz can dom them n they fuck so good her brain is basically a mush. (would you believe me if i say i kinda dreamt of the part b4 fucking but i woke up..?)

First and foremost... it sucks when you wake up before the action happens!!! I feel ya!!

A/n: I don’t normally use pics with faces, but I needed to demonstrate the mask I mention.

MDNI /// NSFW /// MDNI /// NSFW

CW: established relationship, gang bang, degradation, name calling, unprotected p in v, reference to anal sex, restraints, spanking, writing on body, dom skz, sub reader, role reversal, slapping, rough sex, aftercare.

//////////

You’re usually calling the shots. Demanding. Instructing. But every so often you wondered what’d be like to be the submissive for once? Domming was sometimes exhausting. Taking care of them and their needs, it was a lot of responsibility.

Maybe they all could work together to take care of you for a change?

You knew a few of your subs were in fact switches, so they were who you approached to discuss this important matter with.

“You want us to dom you?” Chan asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Are you sure you can take it?" Minho adds.

“Are you sure you will know how to take care of me?” You counter.

But it doesn't take long for their devious brains to formulate a plan.

You get to be an absolute fucking pillow princess for the night. They tie you up, take turns. All your holes get used over and over simultaneously. You can barely breath you're choking on so much cock, and they love the pretty tears that are streaming down your face.

Of course, to begin with spanking is involved - with your riding crop. The one you love to use on Jisung. It makes you so dripping wet hearing Minho direct Sungie to to use that same riding crop to cause red marks on your body.

"Again, Sungie. She needs five more. Harder." He instructs him.

Then there's the moment Hyunjin and Felix bully both their cocks into your pussy. At the same time. While a few of the others hold you in place so you can’t move or squirm or resist in any way.

Then they adorn you in your black leather rabbit half mask and chain you to the bed. You’re in a This is when they really get started.

Changbin runs the pad of his thumb along your bottom lip, then pushes it into your mouth, pressing against the inside of your cheek. “Such a fucked out little bunny.” All you can do is look at him with pleading eyes, silently begging him to fuck your face. Of course he does, removing his fingers and pressing his fat tip past your lips.

Meanwhile Felix is eating you out, slurping on your cunt like it’s his dinner.

Minho cums on the side of your face, pumping his cock with his hand. He needs you all messy, so he smears it all over your cheek with his dick.

Without warning, your legs are bent up around your shoulders. Time for another round of fucking your holes. Chan starts with an onslaught of rough, hard thrusts. Then Jeongin. Hyunjin forces you to deep throat him, and you’re pretty sure someone is rubbing their dick on your foot.

One by one they fill you with the cocks you love so much. And you’ve taught them well too. They know how to thrust so they hit that sweet spot. They know how deep they need to go to make you scream. They know how hard to slap your tits and your face.

Orgasm after orgasm is ripped from you. All while they talk amongst themselves about how much of a “whore” you’re being tonight.

They laugh at how pathetic your whimpers are, and taunt you about good you look as a cum dump. That you’re a “filthy little pet only good for your holes”. You feel the cold wetness of a felt tip marker on your skin. Seungmin, the meanie, writing god knows what on your body.

You just lay there smiling absentmindedly because you’re too fucked out to say or do anything. Your brain isn’t even working now.

Your gorgeous young men are treating you exactly how you want them to, taking care of your needs so well, and you cum again, making a mess all over the face between your legs. You glance down through hazy eyes and almost, almost, say “good boy, Sungie” when you see him drink up every last drop of your arousal.

Eventually they are finished with you, releasing your wrists and removing the mask.

“Go on.” Chan laughs. “Go clean up.” But your legs are jelly and you can’t stand. You’re forced to crawl, pull yourself along the floor. Pathetically. All while they laugh at you.

“Look at you. Too fucked stupid to move.”

“Probably won’t be able to walk for a week.”

“Fuck. Someone better carry her to the bath, at this rate all that cum in her hair will have dried so much it won’t wash out.”

Minho scoops you up and carries you to the bathroom, where one of the others had been drawing you a bath while you’d been struggling on the floor.

Felix washes your hair, Chan washes your body. The rest of your lovers are busy too: Hyunjin changing the sheets, Minho preparing snacks, Jisung finding a movie for you to all wash. Jeongin finding your pyjamas and slippers, and Seungmin blow drying your hair for you so you don’t catch a cold. Binnie ensuring you stretch those hammies and providing you with hot wheat bags.

You fall asleep amongst them. Happy and content. You needed this break.

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @3rachasdomesticbanana @palindrome969 @xxkissesforchanniexx @fun-fanfics @rhonnie23 @jisunglyricist @strayywayy @armystay89 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @mylittleponeypinkrosieposie @justforreaders @melochacco @scenuniverse @oddracha @galaxycatdrawz @jiminssluttyminx @kayleefriedchicken @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @dool-set-net @redstayrosie @mintymintmint251 @katsukis1wife @delulustardust @eastjonowhere @withnia

[evervigilantnightshade]

The Line - Part 6

Reader and John have always straddled the line between playful flirting and taking things further. However when they are forced into a safe house and a secret comes out will they be able to save what they were heading for or is all lost.

Reader x John Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Laswell, Original characters.

Warnings for series: Angst, violence towards reader, reader attacked by men, a pup gets hurt (but don't worry he's ok) Blood, fluff, flirting, a bit of light smut. Death and killing on missions, Father of reader's death mentioned. Puking.

Authors notes: Should I start a tag list?

MASTERLIST

The rest of the team slowly woke and filtered into the kitchen. Once they were all there Simon addressed them. 

“I’ve decided it’s time to end this little road trip. It’s been hell and I think it’s safe to say we’re all ready for this to be over.” 

“Nah, tis been a stoatin time.” Soap said sarcastically

Simon looked over at him and he just shrugged with a smirk on his face. 

“I’ve changed the next flight for us. Instead of continuing to skip around we’re going to our final destination. Once in country we’ll drive the remainin.” 

“How fars the drive?” Kyle looked at YN 

“About three hours, maybe three and a half.” 

“Flights at 17:00. So be ready for 12:00.” Simon started to get up but Soap spoke up. 

“We get tae know what country at least?” 

Simon thought for a moment and then his eyes narrowed when he saw how intently Gaz and Soap were staring at him. He smirked when he realised what was going on. He sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Canada.” 

“Fucking kidding me.” Gaz cursed as he pulled out his wallet and threw a few bills towards Price, Soap doing the same. 

“At least Ghost didn’t cheat us like he coulda.” Soap added and Gaz nodded 

“Someone want to tell me what's going on?” Y/N asked. 

“We’ve had a bet going since you joined the team.” Gaz explained.

“A bet? What kind of bet exactly.” Her voice rising. 

Simon reached over and put his hand on her shoulder to calm her down. 

“Well your file is redacted, and you don’t wear colours, so we all kinda bet on where you were from. Except Simon, now it makes sense because he knew, but at the time he told us he thought it was stupid.” 

“Still think it’s stupid.” Simon rolled his eyes. 

Y/N looked at them and then relaxed a little. 

“What were your guesses?” 

“I said American. You’ve a western accent and thought it was obvious.” Gaz explained.

“Not bad.” 

“I said British.” Soap offered  

“Yeah? Why?” 

“Well of the little that’s in yer file there’s a sniper program held in the UK. Accents easy to overcome.”

“Again, not bad.” 

“So sir, you goin to finally tell us how you knew. You were so confident we were convinced you were cheating.” Gaz asked 

“Didn’t cheat. Just paid attention.” Price said still not having touched the money in front of him. 

“Ye make it sound like she was out there eating hunners of maple syrup and apologising every three seconds.” 

Y/N smiled at Soap. She then glanced at Price, curious how he knew. He made eye contact with her and for the first time in days there wasn’t hostility on either side. 

“Go on then.” She nodded her head. 

“Well you have an accent. It’s faint normally but when you’re drinkin or you’re… particularly sassy it comes out. It’s not super strong, just certain words.”

She blushed and then looked around as if thinking before looking at him and nodding slowly. Price took it as a sign to go on. 

“When you write your reports, you use British English spelling, not American English spelling.” 

“Well that’s no fair, you read her reports, we don’t.” Soap argued. 

“Didn’t say it was fair, did I?” Price glanced at Soap and then looked back at Y/N. 

“You use Kilometres, Kilograms and Centimetres and you measure distance in time. Like you just did when Gaz asked how long the drive would be, you said hours, not distance. You call it a toque, not a beanie. And I knew instantly you weren't British because when you make a cup of tea you leave the tea bag in your cup while you drink it.” He shook his head disaprovingly.

“You don’t!” Gaz cried out with disgust 

“Should be illegal.” Simon added. “Hate when she does that.” 

“Come on lass, even I know that’s wrong” Soap spoke up. 

“What’s happening here?” Y/N shook her head. “You guys keep this up, the next time I make your tea I’m going to put the milk and sugar in before the water. Or heaven forbid, microwave the water” 

“You wouldn’t dare.” Ghost snapped, causing John and Soap to laugh. 

“That’s it, I agree with the Captain now, you’re off the team.” Gaz joked but the table went immediately silent. 

“Oh Gaz.” Y/N sighed and then hung her head, knowing what was about to happen. 

“What are you talking about?” Simon’s voice was surprisingly calm. 

Y/N looked over at Price, who was looking at Simon, a look of acceptance on his face. When Gaz didn’t answer him he looked at Y/N who made eye contact with him. 

“Simon…” 

“What the fuck is he talking about Y/N?” 

“Listen, let’s just go get ready for the flight home yeah?” Y/N said softly

Simon stood up suddenly, pushing his chair back with such force it hit the wall behind him. Everyone was on their feet then ready for what was about to happen.  

“What the fuck did you do?” He asked John, his voice rising  

He took a step forward but Y/N stood in front of him with her forearm pressed against his chest. 

“Si, stop.” 

He wasn’t looking at her though he was glaring at Price, breathing heavily. 

“Be a man, own up to what you did.” He pushed against Y/N. 

Price sighed and then looked at Y/N who was silently pleading for him to not say anything.  

“Don’t look at her, look at me.” 

Price’s gaze then landed on Simon. 

“When we were in Germany, I told her I wanted her off the team.” Price admitted and the results were explosive. 

Simon all but shoved Y/N to the side and she had to call out to Soap for help, who jumped over the table to help her restrain Simon. Price just stood there, looking resolved to take whatever Simon was about to do to him and Gaz stood beside him. 

“You think I’m going to stand by and let you kick her off the team? I’ll kill you first before that happens.” Simon yelled. 

“Come on then.” Price grunted back and Y/N looked back at him with anger. 

“What the hell are you doing?” 

“Let em go. Let’s get this over with.” 

His words put venom in Simon’s veins and he shoved Y/N and Soap almost breaking free. 

“Gaz git him outta here.” Soap called out 

“No. Come on.” Price yelled, slamming his fist to his chest. “I deserve this.” 

Y/N momentarily eased up on Simon looking over at John in distress. It was enough for Simon to break free and he lunged at John, tackling him back causing him to hit the wall. John hit Simon on the back with his elbow and Simon punched John in the knee causing his leg to give out. Using this opportunity Simon pulled away from him and punched him in the jaw and John punched Simon in the stomach. 

Soap and Gaz jumped in at that point and pulled them apart, both fighting them to get back at each other. 

“She’s not off the team you fucking prick.” 

“Enough. Y/N yelled. “It’s already done!” 

“No it’s not, he’ll take it back won’t he?” Simon still focused on John

“I wanted to the moment I said it.” John yelled back 

“I signed the papers this morning.” Y/N yelled now standing between the two men. 

Her words instantly caused them to stop fighting and focus on her

“What do you mean you signed the papers? What papers?” John bit at her his adrenalin still pumping. "Sorry, what papers?" He said more calmly.

“I had Laswell send me discharge papers. Keegan brought them and I signed them before he left this morning. I’m going out for bid.” 

“The fuck you are.” Simon snapped 

“Si, it’s over.” 

“It’s not. You can’t just leave.” 

“Look at us!” Y/N motioned around her. “All of this fucking fighting and drama has been going on since we decided to go home. And it’s all because of me and my choices. My choice to keep a secret, my choice for falling in love with my fucking Captain! What the fuck was I thinking?! This has all been a huge fucking distraction. Have you noticed we haven’t even spoken about Bako? Not once! The man we have been chasing for over a year. The man who literally sent us into hiding and we are talking about my feelings! I’ve lost sight of what I’m trained to do, we all have.” 

She looked at her team shaking her head.

“It’s better if I leave. You’ll all be better off. At this point I don’t even think I want to be on a team. I have an offer from Kortac but I think I’m just going to go solo. There is an American company that has been pursuing me for a while that promised me I could do solos and I think I’m just going to take it.”

“You’d just leave me?” Simon asked 

“It’s not about you.” she snapped. “It’s about me, I need to be alone, get my head on straight. Will I miss having you watch my six, of course. But I need this more. I’m just done. With all of it.” 

Y/N signed and then reached up to rub her face, frustrated with everything and everyone. 

“I need air.” She grabbed her jacket before heading out the front door. 

Simon shook Soap off him and then picked up one of the kitchen chairs, throwing at the wall. 

“Fuck you Price. Fuck you for not listenin to her when she said to wait until she could explain things. Fuck you for the things you said to her and fuck you for breaking her. Because that…” Simon pointed at the door Y/N just walked out of “ That’s a broken fucking Y/N.” 

He then stormed off and John put his hands on the table, dropping his head. They heard Simon stomp down the hallway and slam his door.

“Johnny,” John's voice was quiet

Soap stepped forward

“Go after Y/N. If she doesn’t want you there, follow at a distance. Don’t leave her alone.” 

Soap glanced over at Gaz and then left to go after Y/N. 

“I’m sorry sir. I didn’t mean to say it, it just slipped out.” Gaz apologised but John shook his head and then looked up at him.

“It’s ok Gaz, this isn’t your fault. It’s mine.” 

“You ok sir?” 

John rubbed his jaw and nodded. 

“I didn’t mean your jaw sir.” 

“I’m fine Gaz, go get packed up for the flight.” 

Once Gaz was out of the room John picked up one of the knocked over kitchen chairs and sat down. 

He'd thought that letting Simon hit him would make him feel something else besides this overwhelming pain he had been feeling. However hearing Y/N say that she loved him hit him worse than Simon ever could.

He sat and thought about everything Simon and Y/N had said to each other the day of Lasswell's call. He tried to think of what other possible situation it could be besides her and Simon being together. So many what if’s flooded his mind. What stuck with him though was that when Y/N said she loved him, it didn’t bother Simon. He wasn’t hurt or angry with her, hell he didn’t even seem surprised to hear her say it. 

“What have I done?” He whispered to himself 

He should’ve waited to hear her out. He did trust her and knew she wasn’t the person to be cruel and play games. She was the opposite. She was kind, a trait that was a part of the reason why he loved her. So why did he doubt her, especially when she pleaded with him to hear her out?

An hour later he was still sitting at the table when Y/N and Soap returned. Walking in the door they saw John but Y/N turned and went back to her room, not saying anything to him. Soap looked over at John, and gave him a sympathetic smile. 

“Better get ready Cap, it’s almost time to go.” 

John nodded his head and went to get ready, feeling defeated. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------

The flight was long, and they all sat solo except Simon and Y/N.  John had a view of them and could see they were having a long intense conversation, but eventually they hugged and she ended up sleeping with her head on his shoulder for the remainder of the flight. 

The three hour drive seemed like torture to John, Y/N was sat in the front seat of the large pick up truck that Laswell had arranged for them and Simon drove. John sat behind Y/N and watched as she stared out the window not saying a word. At times he saw tears rolling down her cheeks and it felt like a stab to the gut. He tried to focus on the landscape outside his window, not being able to handle the guilt he was feeling, but it was mostly just endless snowy farmland and didn’t provide him with any form of distraction. 

Eventually they turned onto a gravel road and Simon reached over and squeezed Y/N’s hand. They were close.  As they peaked a large hill in the distance they could see a farm surrounded by a large wall of hedges. They approached the large gate at the entrance and Simon reached over to a keypad, putting in the numbers that prompted the gate to open. 

John watched Y/N’s shoulders rise and fall as she took a deep breath, something he also did before entering his own home. Letting go of the soldier to become a civilian. 

They parked in front of the house. There was a large window facing the parking pad and John thought he saw someone peer out but then they disappeared. Three big dogs came running towards the truck barking but Simon undid his window and whistled a melody with four notes and the dogs stopped and sat down. 

They all got out, stretching their backs with the occasional groan. Y/N went over to the dogs and was petting them all cooing and telling them what good pups they were. The boys grabbed their bags and started heading for the house. At the door though Simon stopped. 

“We’re going to go in, you’re going to remove your footwear and then follow me. Stay on my six and don’t deviate.” 

“Copy Lt.” Y/N whispered with a shake of her head and a small smile. 

They all did as Simon instructed and after removing their boots, followed as he went down a flight of stairs directly to the right of the door.

As they reached the basement there was a laundry room directly in front of them and then three closed doors on their left. Simon turned towards the doors and then stopped in front of one. Before he opened it though he glanced longingly at one of the other doors. It wasn't until Y/N put her hand on his shoulder did he snap out of whatever thought he was lost in. 

He led them through the door and on the other side was a small cramped hallway that looked like cold storage. At the end of the hall though Simon lifted a panel on the wall to reveal another key pad. He put the number in and a hidden door opened to reveal a staircase. 

They descended again and were once again faced with a series of doors. Simon told them to drop their bags in the hall and they entered the door on the right. 

It was a large room with hardwood floors and sleek white walls with some artwork hung spaciously. It looked incredibly modern compared to what they had seen of the rest of the house. There was a large table in the middle room with eight chairs around it. 

Simon motioned for them to take a seat and walked to the head of the table. Instead of sitting in the chair he pulled it out and Y/N took a seat. They all looked at her expecting her to speak but instead Simon spoke. 

“Ok it’s time we tell you all the truth.”

[the-flaneur]

four-tune favours the bold (mv1)

pairing: max verstappen x alonso!reader [smau]

summary: having won his fourth world title, max finds no better time to tell your father that you're dating (and to maybe also get his blessing)

warnings: none (i think)

a/n: now that we finally have M4X (yipeeeeee), can we please get goatlonso back, preferably in the next few years (pls let the newey rocketship work)

[masterlist] [requests]

-> instagram

y/n_priv

liked by fatherofthree, blackdontcrack, inchident_no1 and others

y/n_priv reactions after max told me he had told dad about us (he lied)

view all comments

blackdontcrack max stop sending your girlfriend into a heart attack, she's already getting one from your kids

fatherofthree she learnt that one from you and roscoe 💀 blackdontcrack HEY. my son is very well behaved

notnowinsnomore I DONT UNDERSTAND WHY YOU WONT JUST TELL HIM, IT'S NOT THAT HARD MAX

fatherofthree DO YOU WANT TO TELL HIM FOR ME 🤨🤨🤨 notnowinsnomore NO???? DO YOU THINK I WANT TO DIE??? notnowinsnomore IT'S ALSO YOUR RELATIONSHIP, NOT MINE

honeyhoney you've got to give him like 10 years to process that you're even in the same social sphere as his daughter...good luck man

fatherofthree thanks dan 😖 fatherofthree padel later? y/n_priv no? we have our date??? 😧😧😧 honeyhoney you beating up max now y/nnie? y/n_priv 😁👍

yourbff_priv babes ditch the men for me 😍

y/n_priv yes wifey 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 fatherofthree @/yourbff_priv stop stealing MY girlfriend yourbff_priv skill issue

fatherofthree

liked by y/n_priv, inchident_no1, notnowinsnomore and others

fatherofthree stopped her from becoming blonde and still got kisses xoxo

view all comments

notnowinsnomore that second picture is exactly is what's gonna put you on top of fernando's kill list

fatherofthree no it wont notnowinsnomore yes it will inchident_no1 yes it will blackdontcrack yes it will honeyhoney yes it will ima5starmichelin yes it will buzzlightyear yes it will y/n_priv yes it will fatherofthree ok maybe it will. but fernando doesn't need to know

inchident_no1 your rendition of my heart goes on is truly...

y/n_priv truly what CHARLES? say it with your pussy fatherofthree YEAH WHAT SHE SAID inchident_no1 rubbish 🙄 y/n_priv BOOOOOOO YOU'RE RUBBISH

y/n_priv

liked by fatherofthree, spicysugarbaby, inchident_no1 and others

y/n_priv PUTTING IT ALL ON BLACK! VIVA LAS VEGAS BABY 🤩 YOU ARE WELCOME TO JOIN US AT THE MGM UNTIL THURSDAY MORNING @/f1

view all comments

inchident_no1 should've bet on red 😉 wouldn't have lost you 100k

spicysugarbaby agreed 🤭 blackdontcrack well i SEVERELY disagree since we won 250k on the next spin on black so.... fatherofthree I LEAVE YOU ALONE WITH THEM FOR 10 MINUTES AND YOU'VE ALREADY BET 250K??? y/n_priv yeah but it's an investment babe 😘

antman can i join you guys? 🥺🥺🥺

y/n_priv not yet little kimi, in another three years (i think; i'll take you to the casino then myself ☺️) y/n_priv and yes you too @/we_are_barebears we_are_barebears YESSSSS 😌

f1 can i come over pls pls

y/n_priv of course admin ❤️ f1 yay 😁

-> messages

-> instagram

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, lewishamilton, fernandoalo_oficial and others

yourusername feeling right at home here, dressed and betting on red

view all comments

user1 HOLY LORD MOTHER IS FINALLY BACK TO SERVE CUNT IN THE PADDOCK 🥵🥵🥵

user2 the sexy spanish alonso genes are real with this one yourusername i would hope so! 🥱 user3 istg ive never seen a spanish person look bad in red

user4 GOD REALLY GIVES US Y/N AS AN APOLOGY CAUSE HOW DOES SHE EXIST????

user5 she's literally a goddess on earth user6 the face economy is unreal with her 😍 yourusername cant just be a nepo baby, gotta make papa proud 😘

user7 super hyped for vegas now that you're here with us y/n 🤩

user8 hopefully we see another alonso top 10 (i can copium for a top 6) user9 he will literally dnf everyone if it means y/n gets to see him podium or win again (2023 was literally iconic) yourusername papa will be ready to make stroll do crashgate 😉 (but i've asked him to refrain for this weekend) user10 ya'll y/n's cooking 😌😌😌

user11 ERM ANYONE GONNA BRING UP PIC 3 CAUSE....

user12 YA'LL GIRLIE I WAS GONNA SAY THE SAME THING user13 who's that @/yourusername 🤨 user14 who's that @/yourusername 🤨 yourusername no comment 🥺👉👈 user15 whoever that is do be looking fine affff user16 also probably fearing for his life, considering she's got like ten godfathers and then over twenty drivers ready to bash a man for her 💀💀💀

user17 THE FERRARI AURA IS STRONG WITH THIS ONE 😆

fernandoalo_oficial who's that princessa

yourusername i will tell you soon papa 😁

maxverstappen1

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, landonorris and others

maxverstappen1 suited up and ready to take on vegas. 💪 bring on the race 🎰

view all comments

user18 STILL COOKING WITH A SLIGHTLY COOKED CAR, LETS GET TITLE NUMBER 4 💪💪💪

user19 literally salivating over pic one, cause he's so fine 🥵

user20 waiting for "2024 fia f1 world champion is max verstappen"

user21 SIMPLY LOVELY PUTTING YOURSELF INTO A STRONG POSITION

user22 getting the ladies i see in pic two 🤣

user23 he knows what he wants, and what he's going to get afterwards 😏

user24 VIVA LAS VEGASSSSSS, GETTING READY TO RUMBLE

-> twitter

-> irl

as max stepped out of the cockpit of his red bull - his gloved hands trembling slightly - he could feel the relief coursing through him, palpable even under the thick layers of his racing suit and balaclava. the cold autumn air nipped at his damp skin, but he barely noticed, lost in the overwhelming rush of emotions.

after a very, very long season, filled with challenges both in and out of the car, he had finally done it…he had won his fourth world championship. 

as he stood there under the vegas lights, savoring this triumphant moment in front of the roaring crowd, his thoughts drifted to you.

throughout the year, your presence had always been a beacon amidst the chaos, a constant reminder of what truly mattered to him beyond the roar of engines and the glare of millions of fans. as he ran towards his team, his chest pounding and blood rushing in his ears, he thought of your earlier message, and his heart swelled with affection for you. he knew now was finally the perfect opportunity to share his love for you with the rest of the world.

as you watched max leap into the waiting arms of his jubilant crew, who slapped his back, clapping and cheering, chanting his name, you tried furiously to blink away the tears. your boyfriend had finally achieved his fourth world title, and he was making both of your wishes come true.

walking over to the other drivers, max felt the hand of another behind him. turning around, the butterflies in his stomach heaved once again, coming face to face with your father, fernando alonso. max's exuberant gaze locked onto the figure before him, and as their eyes met, max felt the familiar flutter of nervousness in his chest, a sensation he'd grown accustomed to whenever thinking of you and your father.

"max," fernando greeted him warmly, extending a strong hand. "congratulations. you've earned every bit of this championship." max clapped his hand firmly, trying to hide the slight tremble behind his grin. "thank you, fernando,”

max blushed for a second, as fernando leant up to pinch his cheeks, while also grinning widely at him. as fernando's gaze lingered on max, he thought for a second that he had found out about the two of you, and was instead ready to pull him by the cheek in for a very obvious threat and kick to the balls.

"i must say," fernando began, his tone sincere, "you've shown remarkable resilience this season. much like myself. i hope to see you continue working hard for many years," his words carried a hint of approval.

max swallowed hard, his mind racing, as he opened his mouth to speak.

“i-i’m dating your daughter,” max’s heart pounded in his chest, the words tumbling from his lips before he could stop them. fernando’s expression remained jubilant, but there was a glimmer of something unreadable in his eyes. the air between them seemed to crackle with tension.

“i…i didn’t know she was seeing someone,” fernando said slowly, his voice low and controlled, as he waved to the crowd, whilst pulling max towards the other drivers. there was no denying the facts now – fernando knew about their relationship. and while max couldn’t read the older man’s thoughts, he felt a surge of nervous energy course through him. would this revelation change things? between him and fernando?

as if sensing his turmoil, fernando turned back around abruptly, causing max to jump slightly.

fernando studied max intently, his expression unreadable. then, slowly, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "but i'm glad to hear that it's you max. my daughter deserves nothing less than the best."

with those words, fernando extended his hand once more, this time with a newfound warmth that spoke volumes. max grasped it firmly, sealing a silent pact between them. as they released their grip, fernando placed a hand on max's shoulder, pulling him in. "but listen closely mijo," he said, still grinning but his voice low and conspiratorial, "you mess with my daughter, and i will not hesitate to run you off the track or run you over. if you care for her, then show her that she's your number one priority, both on and off the track."

max felt a chill run down his spine at fernando's warning, but he also sensed a strange kind of respect behind it. this was a man who protected his family fiercely, and max wanted nothing more than to earn his place within that circle.

"yes, sir," he replied fervently, meeting fernando's intense stare head-on. "she is my priority, always. i promise you, i'll do whatever it takes to make her happy and keep her safe." fernando studied him for a long moment, searching for any sign of doubt. finally, he gave a curt nod, releasing max's shoulder.

"alright then," he said, "just remember what i told you. and welcome to the family, officially." as fernando walked away, max took a deep breath, his mind already racing. he glanced around at the celebrating crowd, their faces alight with joy and admiration, and couldn't help but feel a sense of pride swell within him.

but more than anything, max yearned to share this moment with you, to bask in the glow of his victory together and celebrate the love that had sustained him throughout the season. max scanned the bustling crowd, his eyes searching for a glimpse of your familiar features amidst the sea of faces. spotting you lingering nervously near the red bull personnel, he pushed through the throng of people, making a beeline directly for you. as he drew nearer, you couldn't help but notice the look of pure adoration etched across his handsome features. his dark hair was damp with sweat, his broad shoulders still trembling slightly from the exertion of the race. but his eyes shone brightly with triumph and something far warmer - his love for you.

"y/n!" he called out, his voice ringing above the din of the party. pulling you through the celebrating crowd, he wrapped you up in a crushing embrace, lifting you off your feet. you melted into his embrace, pouring every ounce of your joy, pride, and adoration into it.

your laughter mingled with the roar of the crowd as max set you back on your feet, his hands lingering on your waist. he gazed into your eyes, his own shimmering with unshed tears of happiness. in that moment, the rest of the world faded away, leaving only the two of you, suspended in a bubble of pure bliss.

"y/n," max whispered, his voice thick with emotion, "i did it. we did it." he pressed his forehead against yours, savoring the warmth of your skin and the closeness that came with sharing such an intimate moment.

your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer until your lips met in a searing kiss, pouring years of shared dreams and unspoken promises into that single, passionate gesture. the world around them melted away as max lost himself in the taste and feel of your lips, his body molding perfectly against yours. his hands roamed over your curves, tracing the contours he knew so well, as if mapping out the path to your heart.

when you finally broke apart, both panting for air, max rested his forehead against yours, his eyes shining with a mixture of triumph and tenderness. "i want to spend the rest of my life making you feel this way," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. "i want to wake up every morning with you by my side and fall asleep every night in your arms."

he reached into his pocket, his fingers brushing against the small velvet box that had been burning a hole there since the day he decided to propose. max dropped to one knee, his heart pounding in his chest as he gazed up at you with a look of pure adoration. the crowd around them seemed to hold its collective breath, the anticipation palpable in the air.

with trembling hands, max opened the box, revealing a stunning diamond ring nestled within. the stone glittered under the bright lights of the track, casting glittering cascades of light across your face.

"y/n," max began, his voice steady despite the overwhelming emotions coursing through him, "from the moment we met, you've been the driving force behind everything i've achieved. your love, support, and unwavering belief in me have pushed me to become the best version of myself, both on and off the track."

he paused, swallowing hard as he fought back the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes.

"marry me," max breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. "become my wife. let's race through life together because i want to spend the rest of my life with you, and no one else, i love you,"

with a shaky nod, you sank to your knees before him, cupping his face in your hands as you peppered his cheeks with tender kisses. "yes," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. "a thousand times yes."

max slid the ring onto your finger, and pulling you up with him to your feet. spinning you around once more, your laughter ringing out like the sweetest melody. the crowd surged forward, enveloping you both in a sea of congratulations and well-wishes, their excitement nearly tangible in the air.

as the celebrations continued around them, max pulled you close, his lips finding yours in a passionate kiss that left no doubt about the depth of his love and commitment. in that moment, surrounded by the people who mattered most, max knew that this was just the beginning of a lifetime of victories, both on and off the track.

-> instagram

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, lewishamilton, charles_leclerc and others

yourusername I LOVE LAS VEGAS BABYYYYY 😘 but in all honesty, i'm so so so proud of you max (more than words or actions could ever express). seeing you grow throughout the past four years into the champion you are today, is more than any gift i could ever receive. there were far more battles and challenges from this season, but you rose above them every time. you are a champion, both on and off the racetrack and you will never be alone in this world, as long as i'm here. keep them coming baby. i love you, forever and always 🧡

comments on this post have been limited

maxverstappen1 i love you very much schatje, thank you for always being there for me 😘

fernandoalo_oficial i am very happy for the both of you 😁👍

yourusername thank you papa ☺️ promise me you wont shunt into max next race? fernandoalo_oficial no promises sorry princessa 🤭

maxverstappen1

liked by landonorris, francolapinto, yourusername and others

maxverstappen1 four time world champion baby!!! a season full of challenges, but with the support, dedication and the effort of the team, this result would not have been possible 🙌 a huge thank you to all involved for this incredible achievement 👏

and i just want to say the biggest thank you to the love of my life, my girlfriend of four years, and now my fiancee, y/n alonso. i love you so much, and i can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you (even if your dad wants to run me over now)

comments on this post have been limited

yourusername i love you more than anything else in this world maxie 🧡

permanent f1 taglist (comment or msg me to join)

@charlesgirl16 @tallrock35 @sweate-r-weathe-r @unlikelystay @alex-wotton

@daisyfreecs @euphorihan @louloucs @oikarma @dying-inside-but-its-classy

@fadingcloudballoon @princessminjikwon @chick-from-nz @nina-or-anna-or-nora

© the-flanuer || do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platform.

[everythingisawayoflife]

OKAY LIKE TWO PEOPLE SAID I SHOULD SO LET ME TALK ABOUT THIS, its gonna sound like nonsense. Trigger Warning for discussions of Suicide, Self-Harm, Mental Health. Please read at caution cause I discuss a lot of sensitive stuff here.

So my scene analysis paper was exactly as it sounds, we watch a movie of our choice, and analyze it from our textbook, America on Film: 3rd edition. I chose Dead Poets bc it had been a minute since I’ve seen it and I also have seen it enough times to be able to analyze it. So I chose Neil’s suicide. a very chilling scene that when broken down, says a lot, for saying very little. so first lets get into the biblical allegory.

When we first see Neil, he opens his window and slowly puts his Puck crown on his head, like so:

This combines two major elements of the main biblical parallels at play: The Agony in the Garden and one of the major Instruments of the Passion, The Crown of Thorns. For those who have not grown up around Christianity/don't pay attention to it, here are some brief yet thorough definitions of the terms I just threw around:

Agony in the Garden: The night Jesus and his disciples spend in the Garden of Gethsemane where Jesus spends the entire night praying and wrestling with his inevitable crucifixion. Some scriptures add that he was sweating blood during this but it depends on which translation you read. The Agony really shows Jesus' human side and can best be seen in the musical Jesus Christ Superstar's most pivotal number, Gethsemane, which I've linked here.

The Passion: A collective name for the events leading up to Jesus' crucifixion. Essentially all of what Easter is. Passion's archaic definition is suffering.

The Instruments of the Passion: Notable relics and icons from the Passion. These include the Crown of Thorns, the cross itself, Holy Lance, Veil of Veronica, and more.

Anyway, the entire first part of the scene shows Neil, who moves slowly and deliberately. No one else in the entire house is awake and he has become one with nature, by opening his window and feeling the winter breeze. Neil bows his head, presumably IN PRAYER, before we cut to the next part. While Christianity has become decentralized in households across America, it was still very crucial in 1950s America, especially in WASP-y domains. So, it would be correct to assume Neil's family is Christian, especially of how Welton is structured (i.e. the main meeting hall is basically a chapel, they sing hymns, etc.).

Jesus Christ was crowned with thorns as a way of mocking him. He was put on trial because according to the Romans, he claimed to be a God, which because the Romans adhered to their set pantheon, it was considered sacrilege and blasphemy. Jesus only ever responded (again, depending on the translation), "You say that I am." So they wanted to mock his authority and placed that crown on his head. Neil is essentially mocking his own authority because the entire movie he has tried and failed to have authority over his own life. His father continuously shoots him down and refuses to listen until the final break when he tells Neil he is sending him to military school. For Neil, he believes it was foolish to think he could even persuade his father just a tiny bit. He expresses this from the moment we first meet Mr. Perry to the final argument.

Where Jesus wears a crown of thorns, Neil's crown is woven with what appears to be fruits and maybe flowers. Flowers and fruit have had sensitive and romantic connotations throughout all of history and are often represented in classic art and literature. Neil is making this sacrifice in the name of art. If you notice throughout the entire movie, anytime death is mentioned, the camera is focused on Neil. It is brilliant subtle foreshadowing and it eats me alive every time it happens. Neil knows what he is about to do. Robert Sean Leonard played this scene beautifully and I so badly want to discuss all of this with him.

Continuing on, we watch Neil make a silent descent down the stairs and he is entirely shadowed. This gives the audience the implication that we already see a ghost:

Neil needed theater like he needed breathing and when theater was taken away from him, his life force was gone. The whole of Neil already died. We see this resignation with his final line:

"I was good. I was really good."

Neil already views himself as dead. He speaks of himself in the past tense. So Neil walking silently through his house as if he were already a ghost is so haunting. I mentioned earlier that Neil knows what he is doing. In Christianity, suicide is considered a sin. We see this in The Divine Comedy, an Italian narrative written by author Dante Alighieri in the 1300s CE. In the first and most famous section, Inferno, when Dante and Virgil arrive in the Seventh Circle and come across those who have committed suicide where they have been turned into trees. The only exception to this is Judas Iscariot, who is being feasted on by a three-headed Satan. Now again, Judas dies two different ways depending on which biblical translation you read but typically the narrative is this:

Judas turns Jesus into the Sanhedrin for 30 pieces of silver and when he discovers Jesus is to be crucified, Judas hangs himself.

In Biblical times, despite suicide being marked as a sin, in Judas' case, because he wanted redemption from his bad act, it was viewed as an acceptable death. So for Neil, this suicide is a redemption for betraying his father. A small parallel, maybe even a bit of stretch, but it is there for me nonetheless.

Back to Jesus, Neil's descent down the stairs also parallels to the walk along the Via Dolorosa or the Way of Suffering. It is the path Jesus walked to his crucifixion, a long and arduous journey. The walk is about 2,000 ft (600 Meters in Metric) yet this is a man who has been beaten, starved, tortured, who was also tasked with carrying his own large wooden cross, but that's besides the point. It was a slow and painful walk and Neil's deliberate footsteps are exactly that. Skipping ahead, Neil finally arrives to his destination. The choice to do it in his father's office was absolutely on purpose. Neil comes back to the spot he emotionally died, the moment he lost everything. We get just a brief bit of hesitation for Neil. He fiddles with the key to his father's desk. He holds it gingerly and turns it over in his fingers a few times before reaching down to unlock the drawer with the gun. This goes back to the Agony in the Garden, which again, is best expressed in Jesus Christ Superstar's Gethsemane:

Why I should die?

Eventually, Jesus resigns himself to die:

Alright, I'll die! Just watch me die! See how I die!

Neil does not go silently. I don't know if I'm hallucinating or have really keen hearing, but I swear you can hear the tail end of the gunshot simultaneously as the dirge-like music cuts and Mr. Perry gasps awake. I might just be making that up but I don't know tbh. But anyway, while Jesus resigns himself, the following lyrics express frustration with God and the life that was already planned for him when he has a selfish sense to live. This song and musical really delve into the debate of how much human and God was Jesus Christ and it really opens the door for his human side. He expresses selfishness and a want to abandon his mission. He is hesitant to die. He is hesitant to die painfully. Like I said earlier, Neil hesitates ever so slightly.

Then I was inspired Now, I'm sad and tired After all I've tried for three years

Cause not only is God, well, y'know, GOD, he is also Jesus' father. A father who had planned out a whole life for his son and while his son goes along with it, he has a desire to live outside of that. Sound familiar? And I really am trying not to be sacrilegious or anything! I grew up in a Christian household but outside of that, theology has always interested me and I've learned to view it from an academic standpoint. As for my beliefs now, I'm still unsure, and I don't think I ever will be sure and I think that's okay. We're getting off topic, so let me get back on track.

The final time we see Neil alive is him sitting at his Dad's desk, gun wrapped in cloth with Neil gripping it:

He looks sure, with maybe just a flicker of sadness. The entire scene Neil has looked serene. And not like the calm kind of serene, the morose kind. Solemn, I think is a better word for it. Neil's soul has died. Neil is about to crucify himself and become a Dead Poet. He has fulfilled the purpose of the poets they read about in the Society. He lived life as full as he could only for it to be cut down so short. That's the tragedy of it: Neil had so much life to live and so much more to contribute to the arts. But Neil's father killed that passion, killed that love. Earlier in the film, Keating recites the Whitman poem, O Me! O Life! In summary, the poem essentially states that life itself is what makes life worth living. It's a question and answer poem. The speaker wonders what about life is worth living when it is full of constant suffering. They get an answer: life itself is. You being here on Earth and having an identity is what makes it worth it. Neil doesn't see that worth anymore. Life without the arts, his friends, Keating, is not worth living for him anymore. I really recommend reading that full poem, linked here, it is so gorgeous despite it being so short. That sweaty-toothed madman had a gift.

I think that's pretty much everything. There have been a MILLION think pieces on Todd and Neil's whole relationship (TLDR: those boys are GAY) so I didn't get into it here, mainly cause I wanted to focus on Neil and the real meat of my rambling, which was the Biblical allegory. I feel like I said a whole bunch of nothing and it might not make sense to me in the morning but it feels good to get it all out. I love this movie and I love Neil and I love Biblical allegory.

I also hope that this post communicates that suicide is not the answer! Please reach out if you have feelings that make you feel unsafe or need someone to lean on. My DMs are always open and I will leave the major crisis hotlines if needed.

988 - Suicide & Crisis Lifeline, call for support

741741 - Crisis Text Line, text TALK to speak to someone for support.

writing a final paper on dead poets society for my film class and my page limit is THREE?? WHAT DO YOU MEAN I CANNOT DELVE INTO THE QUEER SUBTEXT OF NEIL AND TODD’S RELATIONSHIP AND THE PARALLELS OF NEIL’S DEATH TO THE PASSION OF CHRIST BUT ALSO MAYBE JUDAS ISCARIOT’S DEATH??? WHAT DO YOU MEAN I DON’T HAVE ROOM TO DISCUSS THE CHRISTIAN IMAGERY??? WHAT DO YOU MEAN I CANNOT FURTHER DELVE INTO THE TRAGEDY OF NEIL’S DEATH AND THE IMPACT IT HAS ON EVERYONE AROUND HIM???

i need a Cigarette.

somebody let me write this essay. pleak.

[rinasauruss]

closer than quiet

summary: Rafe is so tall he has to lean down to hear you better. that's it.

warnings: none, me thinks. just a suggestive line at the end ;P

word count: 590

A/N: I couldn't help myself, so I wrote this blurb! this is my first time writing Rafe, let me know what you think! English is not my first language, so I apologize for any grammatical or spelling errors. feedback is appreciated!

The soft hum of the waves was a steady background to the crackling of the bonfire, the flames dancing as the heat mixed with the cool bite of the night breeze. You stood near the fire, feeling the warmth spread through you, but the presence behind you was what made your skin tingle the most.

Rafe was close, an arm wrapped around your waist with a casual ease that made you feel both safe and exposed at the same time. His thumb traced slow, absent circles over your stomach, his other hand holding a beer with the same relaxed grip he used when he wasn’t thinking about much at all. Topper and Kelce were deep in conversation, their voices more distant than usual, as if the world around you had faded into something quieter. Rafe barely added to the chatter, content to stay in his own head—or maybe it was you who had his full attention. You weren’t sure, but it felt like you did.

You turned your head, looking up at him, a soft smile playing on your lips. "You good?" You asked it quietly, as though you already knew the answer, but you wanted to hear him say it anyway.

Rafe didn’t immediately respond, the sound of the ocean filling the silence. Instead, he leaned down, tilting his head as if to catch the softest whisper, even though you’d only spoken in your normal tone. His presence grew even more intense with the movement, his height hovering over you, his face drawing closer in that effortless, unspoken way that made you feel smaller and more drawn in with each inch.

"Hm?" His voice was low, just above a murmur, the sound of it vibrating through your chest.

You flushed at the gesture, a subtle warmth rising in your cheeks. His closeness, his height, the way he made the space around you feel like it shrank to just the two of you—it was disarming in the best way. His breath fanned over your skin, the warmth of it sending a shiver down your spine, and you could almost feel the heartbeat beneath his chest as he leaned in further.

You swallowed, your voice a little shakier this time. "You doing good?" You repeated, hoping your tone sounded steady, but there was no hiding the way he affected you.

Rafe’s grin tugged at the corner of his lips as he felt the slight hitch in your breath, his arm tightening around your waist, pulling you even closer. It was as though he knew exactly how much he was making you feel.

"Yeah, m'good, baby," he hummed, his voice deepening in that way it did when he was in his element. "Just thinking."

"About?" you asked, a whisper now, almost afraid to ask but too curious to hold back.

He tilted his head again, moving in just a little further, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. The closeness, the heat of his breath, was enough to send a shiver all the way down your spine, leaving you breathless.

The moment stretched between you, charged with unspoken words and everything that lay beneath the surface. The bonfire crackled, the night air was cool, but Rafe’s presence was all you could feel now, the pull of him drawing you in further than you’d ever planned to go.

His voice was soft, smooth, laced with that teasing edge that always made your heart skip a beat. "Just thinking about how much fun I’m gonna have taking this little dress off you later."

(support banner by @cafekitsune )

[rafestify]

need a rafe fic please where reader is part of the pogues, her and rafe have been on and off for forever obviously due to everything he’s done but deep down he’s so down bad for reader and maybe she’s pregnant instead of sarah and he doesn’t find out until morocco because the pogues are hovering over her idk angst fluff whatever you feel!!!

Two lines — Rafe Cameron

Summary : Fem!Reader is pregnant with Rafe’s baby, but he doesn't know until pope accidentally mentions her baby (season 4 ep 10 spoilers!! ⚠️)

Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

Warnings : mentions of vomiting & language (english is not my first language)

A/N : as requested 😉 hope u like it anon!

Two lines, and the father was long gone, off doing god knows what. Rafe was the last guy I'd hooked up with, and even after we broke up, we somehow kept finding our way back to each other, especially after the Kildare Enduro. He knew no one else could satisfy me the way he did, and so it became this endless cycle, break up, hook up, make up. What Rafe didn’t know was that I was pregnant. I hadn’t planned on telling him, at least not until we made up.

There I was, back on Rafe’s boat with my friends, setting off to Morocco in search of the Blue Crown and Chandler Groff. My friends had locked Rafe up, tying him up in a small room, just in case. We all knew better than to trust Rafe Cameron, not after everything he’d done.

I walked into the dimly lit room, carrying a tray with a glass of water, a plate of food, and a couple of aspirin for his black eye. The sight of him, bruised, tugged at something deep inside me.

“Here,” I murmured, setting the tray down on the table beside him. “I brought some aspirin, just in case you’re feeling dizzy or something…”

He snorted, cutting me off. “What? You’re just gonna throw it in my mouth like I’m a fuckin' seal?” He wasn’t exactly wrong, but his sharp tone made me bristle. “Nobody trusts you, Rafe,” I replied, my voice steady. “Not after what you did.”

His jaw tightened, and a flash of anger sparked in his eyes. “I saved your asses!” he shot back, his face flushing with frustration. “And not even a thank you was said.”

I took a slow breath, steadying myself. “I know, Rafe. I know,” I said softly. “Thank you, really.” I offered him a small, sincere smile.

He looked at me for a moment, his gaze softening just slightly. “You trust me, right?” he asked, his voice quieter, a bit more vulnerable. I bit down on my lip, feeling the pull he always seemed to have on me.

“Yeah,” I admitted, almost reluctantly. God, he knew exactly how to get to me.

He looked at the ropes binding his wrists and nodded toward them. “Then untie me. Get this shit off me.”

I shook my head, feeling a pang of guilt but holding my ground. “I can’t. I’m sorry.” I pressed my lips together, trying to keep my resolve. “Just… eat the food. We wouldn’t want you dying in here.” With that, I turned and walked out, the door closing softly behind me, leaving me with a sigh that I didn’t even realize I’d been holding back.

As I stepped out of the room, I was met by Kiara’s anxious expression, her arms folded tightly as she waited. The moment she saw me, her face softened slightly, though worry still flickered in her eyes.

"How’d it go?" she asked quietly, as if afraid to hear the answer.

I shrugged, trying to mask the mixture of emotions stirring inside me. "Same old Rafe," I replied, keeping my tone light, but my gaze drifted, unable to meet hers directly.

Kiara studied me for a moment before speaking again. "Soo... did you tell him?"

I frowned, genuinely puzzled. "Tell him what?"

She raised an eyebrow, giving me a pointed look. "That you’re pregnant, with his child."

Oh, right. That one.

I swallowed, feeling a sudden knot in my stomach. "Uh—no, not yet," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. "I just… I don’t know how he’d react." My hands found each other, my fingers nervously fidgeting as I tried to imagine how that conversation would even go. "What if he doesn’t want to keep the baby?"

Kiara sighed softly and reached out, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. Her warmth grounded me, pulling me back from my spiraling thoughts. "Look," she said firmly, her gaze locking onto mine. "You have us. We’ll help you through every single part of this. That’s what friends are for, right?"

I looked at her, the tension in my chest easing slightly. Her words held a strength that I so desperately needed. "Yeah," I whispered, a small smile breaking through my worry. "Thank you, Kie."

She wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into a hug, and for a moment, the uncertainty and fear faded. In her embrace, I felt a flicker of hope—a reminder that I wouldn’t have to face this alone.

After battling fierce winds and waves, we finally arrived in Essaouira. The coastal city spread before us, its whitewashed buildings with blue shutters gleaming under softened storm light. Narrow streets twisted through the medina, lined with shops selling handmade crafts and drenched in a timeless, rustic charm.

The Atlantic crashed against the ancient medina walls, sturdy and weathered, while blue fishing boats bobbed in the harbor—just like the skiffs in the Outer Banks. The salty air and easy warmth of the locals, the slow rhythm of the sea, and the hum of daily life brought back memories of home, as if Essaouira was a Moroccan echo of the Outer Banks.

We continued to wander through the narrow streets of Essaouira, the sound of bustling market vendors and the distant call of seagulls filling the air. John B and Sarah led the way, their steps light and carefree, like they had no care in the world. Following behind them was Cleo, Pope, and Kiara, their conversations flowing easily as they walked, with JJ and I bringing up the rear. But it was Rafe who trailed behind, his presence almost ghostlike, like a lost puppy, following silently in our wake.

As we strolled through the maze of alleyways, I felt a sudden, sharp wave of nausea hit me. It was sudden, and intense, as if something in my stomach was threatening to rise up. I let out a soft huff, pressing my hand to my stomach, trying to hold back the overwhelming feeling of sickness.

JJ, who had been walking beside me, must've noticed the change in my posture because he looked at me with concern. "Y/N?" he called, his voice laced with worry.

"Oh god," I muttered under my breath, the nausea worsening, my head spinning.

"What's wrong? You okay?" JJ asked, his voice low, concern evident on his face.

I shook my head, barely able to focus on him. "No... I need to sit," I said, my voice strained. I felt like I was going to collapse if I didn’t stop moving.

JJ quickly guided me to a pile of carpets that were stacked outside a shop. The soft fabric felt like a relief under me as I sat down, trying to steady my breathing. The rest of the group quickly noticed, and soon I was surrounded by their concerned faces. Kiara dropped to her knees in front of me, her eyes searching mine, her hand resting on my knee in a comforting gesture.

"What's up? What are you feeling?" she asked, her voice soft and filled with genuine concern.

"I'm really nauseous," I managed to answer, my hand covering my mouth, just in case. I didn’t trust myself to hold it down any longer.

Cleo, who had been standing off to the side, stepped forward, her arms crossed over her chest. "She probably needs food. It’s been like two days..or what?" she said, her voice tinged with practicality.

"Yeah, the baby’s probably hungry too," Pope added, offering a casual shrug, as if it was just an obvious conclusion.

I froze, my stomach twisting. The mention of "the baby" caught me off guard, and suddenly, all eyes turned to me. Rafe, who had been hanging back, still distant, looked like he was suddenly paying attention. His gaze shifted from me to Pope and then back to me, his brow furrowing.

"What baby?" Rafe asked, his voice sharp, as if something about the situation didn't sit right with him.

Oh god, here we go.

Pope went silent, and I could feel the tension rise in the air, thickening around us. I glanced up at Rafe, who was now standing a few feet away, looking at me with an expression that was hard to read. His eyes narrowed as if trying to make sense of what he had just heard.

"No, seriously, what baby?" he repeated, his voice insistent, even stern now.

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle over me. There was no easy way to say it, but it had to be said. "I’m pregnant, Rafe," I said quietly, locking eyes with him. "With your baby."

The words hung in the air between us, like they were too heavy to carry. For a long moment, Rafe didn’t say anything. He just stood there, silent, his expression unreadable. The others were watching him closely, waiting for a reaction, but he remained eerily still.

I could feel the tension growing, an awkwardness settling in the space around us, as if everything had just shifted. My hands were shaking slightly, not from the nausea anymore, but from the weight of what had just been revealed. And Rafe, he was just staring at me, his mouth slightly parted but no words coming out.

"Go get her something to eat," Rafe suddenly snapped, his voice cutting through the tension that still hung thick in the air.

Without another word, he dug through his small waist bag, the leather creaking under his movements. I wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but then, with a small grunt of satisfaction, he pulled out a wad of cash—several bills, all stacked neatly together. As he unfolded them, I saw that he had about $400 in his hand, a small fortune for street vendors in Essaouira.

"Wait what?" JJ’s voice broke the moment of disbelief. He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "They don’t take dollars, you idiot—"

"I said go," Rafe interrupted sharply, his tone hardening. There was no room for argument, no sign of hesitation in his voice. It was almost as if he was trying to regain some control over the situation, and in doing so, he completely dismissed JJ’s protests. His words were a command, not a suggestion.

The rest of us exchanged uneasy glances, the shift in Rafe’s demeanor catching everyone off guard. But without further discussion, John B, Sarah, Cleo, Pope, and Kiara reluctantly turned to start walking back toward the market, their steps unsure but obedient. JJ hesitated for a moment, clearly frustrated by Rafe’s abruptness, but eventually followed along as well.

Rafe’s eyes lingered on me for a second, his expression unreadable. He stood still for a moment longer, his gaze momentarily drifting over to the group before returning to me. He didn’t say anything else. His words had been clear, and I could tell that something about the situation had shifted for him.

"I don’t care whether you want the baby or not, but I’m keeping them," I said, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. My heart pounded in my chest, the weight of my decision pressing down on me. The truth was, I had made up my mind. I had to keep the baby, and nothing anyone said or did would change that. Not even Rafe.

Rafe’s eyes widened at my declaration, and for a moment, he just stood there, staring at me, his face unreadable. Then, he kneeled down, and he let out a sharp breath. "Hey, hey, hey—who said I don’t want to keep the baby?" His voice was calm, but there was an underlying tension to it, as if my words had hit a nerve.

I blinked, caught off guard by his response. The words seemed to hang in the air for a moment, and I wasn’t sure what to say next. His eyes were fixed on me now, intense, searching. It felt like something was shifting between us, and I couldn’t quite wrap my head around it.

"We’ll take care of them," Rafe continued, his tone softening just a fraction. "I’ll be with you throughout the whole journey, Y/N. You’re not doing this alone." His voice held a kind of resolve, as if he had already decided, as if he was offering something that felt almost too good to be true.

For a split second, it felt like the world around me had stopped moving. The noise from the market faded into the background, and all I could hear was the steady beat of my own heart. The words he said felt surreal, like they were echoing in my head. "I’ll be with you, 'aight?"

I blinked again, almost feeling like I was in a dream, like I had slipped into some alternate reality where everything suddenly made sense. But when I looked at Rafe, his gaze never wavering from mine, I felt a wave of disbelief wash over me. It felt like a nap dream, a momentary illusion that would disappear when I woke up.

"What?" I said, my voice coming out in a whisper of disbelief. "Sorry—"

Rafe seemed unbothered by my shock. He placed his hands on my knees, his movements deliberate. "You heard me, Y/N." His words were firm, and there was no mistaking the sincerity in them.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The air between us was thick with unspoken thoughts, and I could feel the weight of what he had just said settle in my chest. It was almost too much to process. I had always expected Rafe to pull away, to make this harder for me. But here he was, standing before me with something I hadn’t expected, a promise. A promise to be there. A promise to face this together.

My mind spun, trying to make sense of it. I glanced away for a moment, as if hoping the world would shift and reveal the truth. But when I looked back at him, his expression hadn’t changed. He was still looking at me with those steady, unwavering eyes.

"You’re serious," I murmured more to myself than to him.

Rafe didn’t flinch. "Yeah," he said simply, as if there was nothing more to discuss, as if the decision had already been made. "I’ll be there for you. For us."

For the first time, I didn’t know what to say. My heart was still racing, but for a different reason now. There was a part of me that wanted to believe him, to hold on to this moment, to trust that things might actually be okay. But there was also a part of me that was terrified of what this all meant, of how my life was about to change in ways I couldn’t predict.

I stared at him in utter disbelief, barely able to process the reality unfolding before me. It felt like some kind of miracle. My vision began to blur as tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, the emotions welling up and spilling over, probably caused by the pregnancy hormones, but I couldn’t stop them. I tried to blink them away, but they only gathered faster, until a warm tear rolled down my cheek.

Rafe’s expression softened when he noticed, his gaze never leaving mine. He reached out and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close in a way that felt so natural, so steady. He didn’t hesitate for a second, and his embrace was warm, reassuring, holding me together when I felt like I was on the edge of falling apart, and God, it felt good to be back in his arms.

His hand rubbed gentle circles on my back as he murmured, “We’re gonna be parents.” His voice was soft, filled with awe and disbelief, as if he was speaking the words for the first time and couldn’t quite believe them either.

I nodded against his chest, clutching onto him as tightly as I could. The weight of his words settled over us, the reality of what lay ahead, and as much as I wanted to be brave, I couldn’t shake the fear that started to consume my mind. I let out a shaky breath, my voice coming out in a whisper, “I’m scared, Rafe.” The words felt small, vulnerable, but they were the truth.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his hands gently cupping my face as his thumbs brushed away the stray tears still slipping down my cheeks. “I know,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I am scared too.” There was a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes that mirrored my own, a glimmer of uncertainty about the unknown future that lay ahead.

“But we’re in this together,” he continued, his voice growing stronger, as if he was convincing himself as much as he was reassuring me. “I don’t have all the answers, and I don’t know what’s coming… but I’m not going anywhere.” He leaned down and rested his forehead against mine, closing the space between us. “I’ll be there every step of the way.”

His words washed over me, filling some hollow place I hadn’t realized was empty. In that moment, his presence felt like a lifeline, pulling me out of my fears, giving me a glimpse of something that felt almost like hope. The future was terrifying, yes, but it felt a little less daunting with him by my side.

I looked up at him, my voice steadying as I replied, “I’m glad it’s you.” And as I said the words, I realized just how much I meant them.

He offered me a small, crooked smile, a warmth in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before. “We’re gonna figure this out together,” he promised. “One step at a time.”

I nodded, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. And in that moment, held in his arms, I felt a little less afraid.

Suddenly, as if on cue, the rest of the group appeared, each carrying an assortment of food and drinks. It was almost comical, watching them return all at once, each of them holding something different, John B with a handful of pita bread, Cleo balancing a bowl of yogurt, JJ carrying bottled water, and Sarah clutching a small bag of fruit, including a shiny red apple that she immediately extended toward me.

“Here,” Sarah said softly, her face easing with relief as she offered the apple. I took it gratefully, feeling the cool skin of the fruit in my hand, and took a tentative bite. The crisp, sweet flavor flooded my senses, soothing the nausea that had been twisting in my stomach. They watched with eager anticipation, and as they saw me begin to nibble, their worried expressions started to relax.

“Feeling better now?” Pope asked, his voice gentle but laced with concern as he studied my face.

I swallowed another bite and nodded, a smile creeping onto my face. “Yeah, yeah… thank you,” I replied, glancing at each of them.

They exchanged glances, visibly relieved, and a sense of warmth spread through me as I looked around at their familiar faces, each one showing their own brand of care. I realized then just how much I’d come to rely on them, not just as friends, but as family. I felt a comforting wave of gratitude for each of them, knowing they’d been there for me without question, supporting me in ways I hadn’t even thought possible.

As I took another sip of water, Rafe moved a little closer to me, his hand resting gently on my thigh. His touch was subtle, but the gesture was enough to let me know he was still there, holding his promise to stay by my side. There was something calming in his presence now, something steadying that I hadn’t noticed before.

The others began chatting among themselves, sharing their own stories of haggling with the vendors, laughing about who’d paid the most for what they’d brought. They were giving Rafe and me a moment, I realized, a chance to talk without the pogues’ attention fixed on us.

Rafe leaned down slightly, his face level with mine, his voice low and steady. “You really okay?” he asked, his hand still warm on my thigh.

I took a deep breath, the initial dizziness and nausea fading, leaving behind a feeling of clarity I hadn’t expected. “Yeah, I think so." I paused, looking up into his eyes.

He smiled, a soft, almost vulnerable expression, and for a moment, he seemed like a different Rafe—one who wasn’t weighed down by pride or bravado. “That's good” His voice was filled with a sincerity that softened something inside me. "Don't want our little one and her mommy to starve, do we?" He smiled making me let out a low chuckle.

In this quiet moment, I knew, deep down, that I wouldn’t want anyone else to be the father of my child. Everything just felt right. Despite all the chaos, the ups and downs, there was a steady comfort in knowing me and Rafe would face it together.

likes and reblogs are appreciated! 🐇

>゜))彡 taglist — @rafecamerons-national-anthem @ts1mp0ne @vheavxly @enjoymyloves @tv-girllover07 @husherstan @smthabsolutelyunhinged @multisection @onlyrealjoy @hoelesslyt @nina357

[foxy-eva]

Drunk on You

Summary: Spencer is completely and utterly infatuated with you

Request: Pussy drunk Spencer where it’s the first time they sleep together and he’s completely obsessed with being inside her and eating her out (initially requested to @imagining-in-the-margins) 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Smut 

Content Warning: (18+, minors DNI) heavy kissing, handjob, fingering, oral (fem receiving), protected penetrative sex, slight overstimulation

Word Count: 2.2k

Masterlist

Maybe it was a bit cliché to invite Spencer into your apartment for coffee after your date. The ulterior motive was obvious but there was no elegant way of telling him what you really wanted. He didn’t seem to mind when he accepted your offer with a grin on his face. 

The tension between the two of you was palpable once you stepped through your door. The warm amber of Spencer’s irises shone even brighter under the lighting of your living room. It was mesmerizing to look at him, so much so that you quickly forgot about the coffee. 

Spencer couldn’t care less. It was obvious that he knew a hot beverage wasn’t exactly what you craved right then. The way he licked his lips as he looked at you gave away that he was longing for something else, too. 

Stepping closer, you left barely any space between the two of you. The warmth he radiated penetrated your skin and spread through your body. You breathed in his scent, a pleasant mix of his cologne and laundry detergent. 

“So,” you teased as you leaned closer. “Are you gonna kiss me now or what?” 

“Gladly,” he chuckled. 

To your surprise, he took his time with you. His fingers found your jaw, gently brushing along your skin before slightly tilting your head. His other hand made contact with your waist to pull you even closer. Then, unhurriedly and with a precise motion, he finally leaned in to close the distance. 

Once your mouths made contact there was no more holding back, though. His lips were soft yet demanding and he didn’t waste any time to deepen the kiss. Tasting you broke any resistance Spencer had and he couldn’t keep up his demeanor anymore. 

His fingertips dug into your waist before you felt them trembling against your body. His tongue brushed over yours as if you had finally granted him the first taste of water after a life-long drought. When your hands found the nape of his neck to playfully tug at his curls, he unabashedly moaned against your lips. 

Spencer was desperate to make you his and he had no intention of hiding that from you. His lips only left yours to gasp for air before kissing you some more. When you wanted to lean back to look at him, he chased your mouth and immediately closed the distance again.

His enthusiasm made you smile into the kiss and he noticed. That was when he finally slowed down, leaving a few more feather-light pecks on your mouth before leaning back. 

“Sorry,” he awkwardly laughed. “I’ve been waiting so long to do this.” 

“Don't apologize,” you breathed. “I like how eager you are.” 

To prove your words, you took his hand in yours to lead him into your bedroom. Spencer wasn’t the only one who had been waiting too long for this to finally happen. You had no intention of acting shy with him when it was clear how much the both of you yearned for each other’s nearness. 

Right beside your bed you came to a halt and turned to him. Patiently he watched as you undid the buttons of his dress shirt and brushed the fabric over his shoulders. Once the shirt dropped to the floor, your hands wandered along the waistband of his pants. 

Your eyes followed the movements of your fingers and you couldn’t ignore the outline of his hardness straining against his trousers. You looked at the man in front of you and found him staring at you with the utmost adoration in his eyes. 

“Can I touch you?” You asked and he nodded. 

Your palm carefully made contact with his clothed cock and a sigh immediately escaped Spencer’s throat. He leaned into your touch and twitched against the fabric of his confines. You decided to free him as you undid his pants and slowly pulled them down together with his underwear. 

As you took your time to admire the beauty of your lover, you completely forgot your surroundings. Only Spencer’s hand brushing along your arm brought you back to reality. You locked eyes with him again and felt your cheeks heating up. 

“You’re so handsome,” you mumbled. 

His hand found the fabric of your shirt and tugged on it as he cooed, “I want to see you, too.”

Together you got rid of the remaining pieces of clothing until both of you were completely bare. You lay down on the mattress to continue kissing without any barriers between your bodies. 

Spencer hovered over you when he began kissing down your neck. He left sweet pecks on your skin before biting down on your pulse point, drawing a whine from your lips. To soothe the angry skin, he carefully licked along it before moving further down your body. 

“You smell so good,” he groaned as he kissed your breasts. “I can’t get enough of you.” 

He took one of your hardened peaks into his mouth while his hand found the other, teasing it with his fingers until you couldn’t hold back your moans. When he heard your hymn of praise, he hummed into your skin. 

Hungry lips found one another once more. “You are marvelous,” Spencer mumbled into the kiss. 

While he was distracted with his mouth on yours, a curious hand made its way down his body to wrap around his erection. It made him whimper against your lips. Your fingers brushed over velvety skin until they found the weeping tip to spread his arousal over it. 

“Fuck!” he hissed as he looked down his body to watch your hand caressing him. 

“Do you like that?” you teased as you kept stroking him a little harder. 

His hand found your wrist to stop your movements. “Yeah, a little too much,” he confessed and his words made you smile. 

You let go of him and watched as his fingertips danced along your chest and down your stomach until they reached their destination between your legs. Tentatively, he let one finger glide along your slit before spreading your folds apart. When he found you already dripping with desire, he groaned, “So wet for me.” 

He collected your dew on his fingertips and dragged it along your folds before circling your most sensitive spot. The sounds of your pleasure only spurred him further on, caressing you some more before he breached your entrance with two digits, finding little resistance from your body. 

Spencer kissed along your neck as he curled his fingers inside you, pressing against a spot that made you light-headed and let your walls flutter around him. He seemed to relish feeling your body like this, taking his time to explore your core before settling on a steady pace. It didn’t take long for you to dance along the edge of euphoria. 

His lips brushed along your ear as he whispered, “I can’t wait to fuck you.” 

That was all it took for your undoing. Spencer groaned as he felt you pulsing around his fingers, your entire body writhing as you found relief. You were still panting when he withdrew his fingers, making you whine at the loss of contact. 

With a playful smirk spread over his face, he brought his hand to his mouth to lick your release from his fingers, savoring the taste of your cunt on his tongue. 

“You taste so good,” he breathed before moving down your body. “I need more.”

Before he could settle down between your thighs, you grabbed his shoulders. The feeling of being empty was overwhelming and you yearned to be filled out by him. Even though the prospect of having his mouth on you was exciting, it was not what you needed then. 

“I need you inside me now,” you whimpered. “Please, Spencer.” 

He kneeled between your legs when he chuckled, “How could I say no to that?” 

Hurriedly and with little grace you reached over to your nightstand to get a condom from the drawer. Spencer didn’t waste any more time when he took the wrapper from your hands to put the condom on. As he leaned over you, you watched him closing his eyes for a moment before he aligned his cock at your entrance. 

Then, after locking eyes with you, he began pushing his hips against yours. He hissed a curse at the sensation of slowly stretching you open one inch at the time. When he dared to look down between your bodies, he got so overwhelmed at the sight of his cock entering you that he almost came on the spot. 

Quickly, he averted his sight to get his composure back. Your walls fluttered around him and you felt him twitch in response. Once he had filled you up to the hilt, he took a moment to feel your heartbeat deep inside you. 

“Spencer,” you whined as you began rocking your hips against his. “Please!” 

He didn’t mean to tease you or test your patience. He just wanted to fully savor this moment. Feeling you tightly wrapped around him made his head spin. He felt inebriated when he began moving and started to think you had cast some kind of spell on him. 

“You feel so good,” he breathed when he began moving. “So tight for me.” 

Pure magic was the only explanation for what you made him feel. Spencer struggled to wrap his head around the fact that this was reality. Nothing else mattered other than being right there with you, making you his as he fucked you against the mattress. 

“Harder!” you cried and Spencer obliged. 

It proved to be a mistake, though. As he watched you quiver underneath him, the bedframe shaking with his forceful thrusts, he struggled to delay his downfall. Feeling you getting even tighter around him made it impossible to not fully indulge in this sensation. 

With his whole body trembling, he tried but failed to slow himself down. Desperation was written over his face as he attempted to prolong the feeling of being inside you. Of course you noticed it, too. Seeing him fall apart on top of you as pleasure overcame him was exhilarating and you had no intention of slowing him down.  

“Come for me,” you murmured and Spencer’s eyes widened at your words. 

Then, with a particularly hard thrust, he did. Trembling and groaning, the built-up tension was released as his climax washed over him. 

Before you had a chance to wrap your arms around him to welcome him inside your embrace, he pulled out of you and quickly moved down your body. With your head still spinning, it took you several seconds to realize what he was doing. 

Only when you felt his tongue glide through your folds did you comprehend that he had found his new home between your legs. 

“Oh fuck, Spencer!” You hissed at the feeling of his mouth caressing your sensitive center. 

Like a man starved he collected your honeyed wetness on his tongue, moaning into your skin as he tasted your heady aroma. The vibrations he created sent shockwaves through your body, prompting you to buck your hips against his face.

Seemingly unfazed by your reaction, he wrapped his arms around your legs to keep you in place as he continued pleasuring you with his tongue and mouth. 

“So good,” he whispered against your heat. 

Despite his effort to hold you securely against his mouth, you were sure you might start floating at any moment. Two of his fingers found their way into you, adding more pressure and bringing you closer to your undoing. 

It only took a few more seconds until ecstasy overcame you. Your thighs trembled as you rode out your high, rocking gently against Spencer’s face. He didn't let go of you, though. Almost in a trance-like state he kept caressing you, licking up your release as you writhed underneath him. 

Your chest was heaving when you looked at him, eyes closed and half of his face buried between your legs. Spencer didn't even consider stopping, not when you tasted so heavenly, even more so after you came. Drunk on your taste and scent, he would have been more than happy to spend the rest of his night right there. 

It became too overwhelming for you, though. The constant stimulation was too much to bear and almost became uncomfortable, so your hands found his curls to pull on them. “Enough,” you murmured.

In an instant, he removed his mouth from your core to litter your inner thighs with little kisses. Then he looked up at you, a wicked grin painted on his glistening face. He wiped himself clean with the back of his hand before plopping down beside you. 

“Sorry, uh…” he muttered. “I got a little carried away.” 

You placed a kiss on his lips, noticing your own scent still lingered on them. 

“I’m not complaining,” you purred. “I just need a little break. We can continue later.” 

The glimmer in his eyes at your words must have been akin to someone witnessing a miracle. Content with the prospect of doing all of this again, he wrapped you into his arms. 

Please like, reblog and leave a comment! I need your lovely words to stay motivated to write more stories.

Taglist: @adoredfromafar @grumpyy-bearr @frickin-bats @pleasantwitchgarden @cynbx @xserenax-13 @alexxavicry @samuel-de-champagne-problems @evvy96 @reidsbookclub @lover-of-books-and-tea @sebs-oxygen @nomajdetective @kobaltdragon @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @castiels-majestic-wings

[gothgoblinbabe]

Belt Buckle

Logan Howelett x fem reader

A/N: okay, so this. Uh. Hear me out - I can’t be the only one who’s thought about this. It’s exactly what you think it is. Also it’s not very long just cause I’m still working on requests but it’s been collecting dust in google docs

Warnings: NSFW 18+

Word count: 840

divider credit

You couldn’t quite place where the fascination began.

Maybe it was because it sat right above the bulge in his jeans or because you were always yanking the stupid thing out of the way to get his pants down his thighs, but your eyes were always on the buckle of Logan’s belt lately. He had a couple different ones - all obnoxiously big - and of course you teased him, calling him a cowboy or a show off.

Lately, though, you’d been struggling to keep your mouth shut. Every time he’d stand in front of you now, you couldn’t tear your eyes from whatever chunky adornment was attached to the front of his belt.

“What are you lookin’ at, sweetheart?”

Your eyes flickered back up to his and you shrugged.

“Nothin’.”

He titled his head, “really?”

“Mhm.”

“Why’re you starin’ like that, then?”

Shit.

You swallowed hard, avoiding his gaze. You’d been together plenty of times, admitted almost everything to each other, but you still found yourself too embarrassed to admit what it was that had you staring so much.

You finally had to tell Logan while sitting on his lap in bed, his hands kneading your hips to pull you back and forth over his hard cock beneath his jeans. With his eyes closed, lost in the feeling of your tongue in his mouth, he dragged your hips forward a little farther than intended, inadvertently dragging your thinly clad pussy right over his belt buckle. Usually he’d pick up on the little things like that - how loud you whined when he pulled you forward - but you tried not to make the noise again, embarrassed.

He did, anyway.

He pulled your lips from his with his hold on your face, his thumb and fingers gripping your cheeks to the point that your lips were squished into a pout.

“You got somethin’ you wanna tell me, pretty girl?”

You knew you could tell him anything, but this felt far too humiliating - as if you were positive he’d scoff at the idea and tell you that you were gross for even thinking it.

You tried to shake your head, but he knew you far too well.

He grabbed you by your hips and lifted you off his lap.

“Spit it out, princess.”

You sharply inhaled, eyes dropping to his belt.

“I…um, I was thinking…” you tried to say something, anything to even hint at what you wanted, but it seemed stuck in your throat.

Logan clicked his tongue, “Baby. If you want somethin’ you gotta say it.”

You hated that he was right. You had to just get it out, say it all at once like ripping off a bandaid. 

“I wanna ride your belt buckle. It’s big, I think it’d feel good.”

Your words hung in the air, met with deafening silence. 

You watched his parted lips curl up into a smug grin, his eyebrows raised in mild disbelief.

“Jesus, that’s filthy. You really think about that?”

Your face burned. You opened your lips to speak but nothing came out. He was definitely going to call you weird, tell you that’s gross and get up from the bed.

Instead, he wordlessly leaned forward and hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties to pull them down your legs. He threw them to the floor and leaned back with his hands behind his head, leaving you sitting in front of him in only one of his t-shirts with nothing underneath. You looked at him curiously, eyes flickering between his face and his lap.

“C’mon, you want it or what?”

You hastily climbed back onto his lap, positioning yourself so that his erection was behind you and your bare pussy was against the cold metal of his belt buckle. You weren’t sure exactly what to do at first. He usually held your hips when you were in his lap, helping you grind down onto him. Now, though, they were locked behind his head as his eyes bore into yours.

“You asked for it so you gotta do the work, baby.”

You huffed, placing your hands on his chest so you could lean forward and roll your hips. You slid your swollen pussy across the ridges of the cool metal of the buckle, your slick already coating the front of it and the top of his jeans.

You looked up to see Logan’s stare glued to his lap, watching hungrily with his bottom lip caught between his teeth as you rocked yourself back and forth.

“Feels good?” He asked, already breathing heavily from the way your ass grazed the tip of his cock when you dragged your hips back.

You nodded, nearly slack jawed with your eyes closed.

“Use your words,” he demanded, eyebrows furrowing.

You groaned in annoyance at the familiar phrase, one he loved to use when you were too turned on to speak.

“Yeah, feels good - fuck,” you cursed when he lifted his hips a little, pushing against you as you continued to grind yourself down. 

“So you guessed right, then, huh?” 

A/N: short and sweet but ya idk I couldn't get it out of my head <3

[rafesangelita]

⊹₊⟡⋆♡ oh, nothing! just bitchy!kook!reader walking around the house in nothing but rafe’s favorite heels after he decides talking on the phone with his friends is more important than paying attention to his girl..

warnings: bratty behavior, rafe being sexually frustrated lol, groping, heavy teasing, suggestive ending

a/n: just a little something on the shorter side because these 2k+ wc fics have done their number on me lol

you rolled your eyes, an exasperated sigh leaving your lips as rafe’s laughter echoed from upstairs. he has been on a three way call with kelce and topper for going on an hour now, and while you usually didn’t care, he had you waiting for him downstairs in full glam and an empty tummy. this is what you get when you try to play nice and put your catty attitude to the side for one night; a negligent boyfriend who had no care for anything else in the world except for what him and his idiot friends were rambling on about. your impatience is what lead you to be in the position you were in right now; naked and ignoring rafe as he followed you around the house, begging you to give him the slightest amount of attention.

“we can go get dinner now, okay?! i was just listening to topper vent about ruthie, i swear i wasn’t ignoring you!” he refrained from stopping you in your tracks, his cock stirring in his pants when he watched the way your hips swayed with every step. “oh, really?” you spun around, your boyfriend’s eyes falling down to your bare chest, “not responding to me when i called you downstairs like a thousand times wasn’t you ignoring me?” rafe opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off when you walked away from him again. this time he watched you round the corner of the hallway, making your way into the kitchen before cursing under his breath.

you could tell you were driving rafe insane by the way he was gripping the kitchen island, his knuckles white with tension. “so, what? you’re just going to walk around like that?” he asked, his eyes burning into your skin. you shrugged, bending over the counter with a look in your eyes that made him want to wrap a fist in your hair and take you right there. “too bad you were busy with your friends earlier.. i actually wanted to be the sweet girlfriend tonight and give you dessert after dinner. oh well..” you pouted, walking past him as you flipped your hair over your shoulder. why were you like this? toxic, bitchy, mean, but still irresistible, sexy, and perfect?

“it won’t happen again, i promise.” rafe was hypnotized as he watched you walk into the living room, your heels clicking against the floor as your boyfriend pleaded with you to let him take you upstairs. “maybe the neighbors would appreciate the view a lot more than you do—” you barely touched the curtains before your boyfriend snatched you away from the large window. “that’s enough.” he said through gritted teeth, his gruff voice just right below your ear. suppressing the butterflies from fluttering in your tummy, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “that poor excuse of an apology isn’t gonna get you anywhere.” rafe chuckled, his hands feeling like fire on your hips.

“let me show you how sorry i am..” he turned you around, his cock aching as he could now feel your tits pressing against him through his shirt. he was making it really hard for you to keep up your act. “acting like a little brat, i know exactly what you need right now.” you gasped when you felt him take a handful of your ass, his bruising grip only exciting you further. “and what is that?” you leaned in, feeling the last of your resolve crumble when he took your hand to feel him through the denim of his jeans. “it’s so hard for you, baby,” he nearly moaned, lowering his tone, “and i’m still so hungry..”

[nereidprinc3ss]

no sweeter innocence (than our gentle sin)

in which spencer reid is gentle with overwhelmed fem!reader after sex

18+ (fluff, implied intimacy) warnings/tags: it's just aftercare, but like psychological aftercare, implied intimacy duh, vague descriptions of sex but nothing explicit, hurt/comfort without the hurt, allusions to postcoital dysphoria, reader cries but its not really sad, spencer reid is so kind i wish men were real, i think that is all a/n: guess who wrote an entirely different thing instead of touching her wips..... AGAIN...... this bitch cant do anything omggg!! but this was based on a request so go me also what a strange time to be posting but it's only 1k words and nobody can stop me

“Hey. Are you with me, angel?”

You blink your eyes open in the dark room—reorienting yourself to the tangle of your bodies. How many minutes has it been?

“Hm?”

He chuckles—a quick huff from his nose as he brings a hand up to push hair from your face. 

“I asked you if you’re with me.”

It takes you a moment to answer. You’re still trying to make sense of where you are in space, each sensation coming back to you one by one—the weight and pressure of him against you, the slip of cotton sheets and a cool breeze from the cracked window over your heated sticky skin. 

“Oh.”

It’s not much of an answer and your voice is small. For a moment he lets it sit, cupping your warm cheek. Your eyes flutter shut again. His voice comes gentler, dipped in concern. 

“You okay?”

This time you don’t try to speak. Your tongue is like a lead weight in your mouth and your brain is running on dial-up. The best you can do is to cling to him, hiding your face in the curve of his neck and hoping he’ll understand that your firm hold on him is a request for him to tighten his own arms around you, until you’re sure you won’t float away. He reciprocates and it makes you feel more secure immediately. 

“Can you answer me?” He murmurs, all sweet solicitation, lips brushing the top of your head in this new airtight position. And then, a moment later— “Baby. I wanna hear your voice.”

“Mhm,” you manage. 

Spencer rewards you by rubbing your back in slow circles. His hand feels nice on your bare skin. The way you love him is too big for words. It could make you cry. 

“Wasn’t too much? You’re not hurting anywhere?”

You shake your head and try to ignore the ache in your bones when you can’t seem to get him close enough. 

“Mm-mm.”

It’s not entirely true—your legs are sore, but it’s nothing that needs tending to, and your lower back is a bit crampy, but he’s already working on that. 

He hums. “You’re pretty out of it, sweet girl. What’s going on with you?”

Spencer is always careful with you. He’d never hurt you, or sacrifice your comfort for his pleasure. That said, he’s just as passionate as you are. The stretch of your arms above your head is still fresh in your mind—the ghost of his grip, pressing your wrists into the mattress, or pushing your leg up, or pulling you exactly where he wanted you by the hips. It’s all wonderful, and you never feel safer than you do when you’re with him, but it doesn’t make you feel any less vulnerable, any less raw, after all is said and done. Maybe it’s precisely because you trust him so much that you’re so sensitive afterward. But he never, ever makes you feel bad for having an intense reaction to an intense experience. He always meets you where you’re at. That in itself makes you emotional. Spencer is different than any of the partners you’d had before. 

Again, he’s patient as you try to process his question and work up a response. Maybe a minute later, you’re breathing out something that feels true. 

“Overwhelmed.”

The word is a tap against glass you didn’t know was there until it’s fracturing like a spiderweb. With no warning, and for no good reason, you find yourself choked up. 

“Oh,” he says, sympathetic and drawn out as understanding sets in. “Do you need me to back off for a minute?”

You squeeze him even fiercer and shake your head, unable to stop the tears from drawing their shiny paths down your cheeks and sinking into the weave of the pillow case. 

“Shh. You’re okay,” he murmurs, quiet and slow and almost sing-songy as he smooths your hair, though you know he doesn’t really expect you to stop crying. “You’re okay, pretty. Remember what I said about all the hormonal shifts in your body after you come?”

Once more you nod against him with a small, shuddering sniffle. 

“And how sometimes your body regulates by crying? Kind of like a… a reset button?”

“Mhm.”

“Mhm.” He shifts from rubbing your back to tracing light lines in shapeless patterns with the blunt edges of his nails, and your breath catches before you’re melting in his hold. “It’s okay to have big or confusing feelings after sex. It’s actually really common. I just want you to be honest with me about those feelings, right? So we can keep you safe?”

“Right.”

“Would you tell me if you were hurting, or if something I did or said was bothering you?”

“Yes.”

If you were looking at him you know he’d be smiling ever so slightly at your monosyllabic responses, charting an upward path with his hand and pushing it through your hair at the nape of your neck. “You can just nod, baby. You don’t have to talk. I know you’re tired.”

You make a small noise of gratitude and nuzzle closer, feeling better as the tears slow, quickly as they’d come. 

“Do you want a bath in a little while?”

Another nod. He scratches at your scalp. “Okay. We’ll do a bath, and then dinner, and then I’m finally going to make you watch that documentary about Helvetica. It’s a little outdated, and there are a few basic errors about the origin and development of the font as well as misinformation about the typeface subgroup in general, but I can amend those as we watch and afterward we can read the director’s tenth anniversary statement. I was waiting to read it until we watched it together.”

Spencer knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that you’ll fall asleep ten minutes in, curled up on the couch under a blanket in your biggest hoodie with your head on his lap and his hand in your hair, just like this. 

He’s actually really looking forward to it.

[honeypiehotchner]

Juno (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- one shot

Hello again! This goes from zero to 100 in two seconds flat don't @ me!! Sabrina's new album came out and reawakened something in me (everyone say thank you Sabrina) (also this is not beta'd I wrote this in a short n' sweet haze)

Summary: Aaron is working from home but what paperwork he needs to do is the absolute last thing on your mind.

Warnings: smut! 18+ only! this is so filthy! in no particular order: multiple orgasms, cockwarming, choking, brat tendencies, stoplight system, unprotected sex, breeding kink (briefly), face fucking, overstimulation

WC: like 3,400 I lost my damn mind clearly

You’re not sure what’s gotten into you. Blame it on period hormones (probably) or the fact that Aaron looks absolutely delicious right now in his tight black t-shirt (most likely), but you’re going to go insane if either of you have clothes on for another five minutes. 

The problem is, Aaron is trying to focus. It’s one of his days where he works from home, an idea you gave him when you realized how easy it would be for him to do the same paperwork just from the comfort of your living room. It was a brilliant idea at first. You got to see him more, and were able to do your own thing around the house while he did his work. You got to have lunch together, and offer a genuine mental break in between his mountain of paperwork. 

Now, though, you can’t find it in you to give a single fuck about whatever needs to be signed, who needs to clear what, and what phone calls he still needs to make. 

“Honey,” you call sweetly from the kitchen. You watch him from over the island, your thoughts going all sorts of ways -- namely, deep into the gutter. “Want to break for lunch?”

You see Aaron shake his head, still typing furiously on his laptop. “It’s not even noon yet.”

“Brunch?” you try again, walking out of the kitchen. You lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms over your chest in the way you know he loves because of the view it gives him of your cleavage. And you’re wearing a v-neck shirt today for that exact reason, too.

Aaron still doesn’t look up. “I’m sorry honey, maybe in an hour?”

You let out a huff that you know he hears because he finally looks up, eyebrows raised just so. It’s a look that you love. Curious, veering toward that playful annoyance that you can’t seem to go a few hours without his undivided attention. 

Which, you can, by the way. You’re more than capable. It’s just that right now, it’s a crime that his eyes have been looking at paperwork when they should be looking at you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and there’s some hesitation in his voice. You know he’s assuming the worst. That you’re not okay mentally, and that’s why you need him to take his lunch break now or maybe for the rest of the day. He’s done it before on your darker days.

But you’re okay. You’re perfectly fine. You’d just be even better if he put the damn laptop away and put his fingers to use somewhere else.

Which is exactly why you come to a stop in front of him and reach forward, tilting his screen down and down until it closes. He lets you.

He lets you take his laptop and put it on the table beside the couch. He watches you, his fiery brown eyes taking in every second. He lets you straddle his hips, your arms circling his neck.

“I see now,” he smirks, his hands finding their rightful place on your waist and squeezing lovingly. “By ‘lunch break’ you mean…”

“Put a baby in me,” you blurt, rocking your hips against his.

He stills, his hands making you stop your movements, too. His eyes are darker now in a way you haven’t seen in a while. “What?”

“Please,” you say, leaning your forehead down onto his, trying to move your hips again. “Need you.”

“Honey, we can’t have--”

“Yes I know the semantics, Aaron,” you mutter, now annoyed and lifting your head to glare at him. He has a vasectomy, you get that. “I mean fuck me like you’re putting a baby in me.”

His hands squeeze again. “I see.”

You frown. “Don’t tease me.”

“I’m not,” he smirks, one hand leaving your waist to stroke your cheek. “You’re adorable when you’re horny.”

You roll your eyes, peeling yourself off his lap. He lets you go, albeit with a curious look. You turn and head for the bedroom.

“Where are you going?” he calls out after you, still with that damn smirk lacing his words.

“To get myself off,” you reply in a deadpan. “Since someone--”

You don’t have a chance to finish your sentence before Aaron is right behind you, hands on your hips, spinning you around to face him. That look full of fire is back again, stern this time.

“Did I say you could do that?” he says in a low tone.

“Did I ask?” you retort, backing out of his grasp and darting into the bedroom. 

Now there’s a smirk on your lips. It’s quickly approaching shit-eating grin territory, which you know will only egg Aaron on further. This little game of cat and mouse happens to be your favorite, and he knows it.

You’re barely two steps into the bedroom when Aaron is attached to your back yet again, this time wrapping his arms around your waist, locking you in.

“Color?” he whispers, his lips right at your ear, sending shivers straight down your spine.

You groan. “Green. Neon green. So green, I need you to--”

He spins you again, this time backing you into the wall and attacking your lips. Finally, you think, though you know you’re in for it now. The thought has a grin crawling up your lips, and you’re unable to stop it.

“What’s so funny, hm?” he scolds, moving his lips to your neck instead, to the exact spot he knows makes you weak in the knees. Like clockwork, he has to wrap an arm around your waist to keep you upright, your knees buckling when he bites down just so.

“Nothing,” you manage through a moan, tipping your head back onto the wall. “Shit.”

“You’re ridiculous sometimes, you know,” he says, but he’s smiling against your skin. “Can’t let me focus on work because you need me to fuck you.”

“In my defense,” you try, your hands scrambling for his shoulders, for something to ground you. “You didn’t fuck me this morning.”

“I fucked you last night,” he reminds you, as if you needed the reminder. It’s the reason you slept so soundly. “Was that not enough?”

You can’t help it; you laugh. 

He lifts his head, raising an eyebrow at you. The same question as before on his lips.

“Sorry, I thought you were joking,” you say. 

“You’re insatiable.” 

“Guilty,” you grin, grabbing his face and pulling him back in for another kiss.

You make out against the wall for too long like two teenagers behind the bleachers at school. You hook one leg around his hips, pulling him in and grinding against his obvious erection. It’s enough to have him groaning into your mouth, pressing you against the wall with renowned vigor. 

You can feel how wet you’re becoming and fuck, neither of you have even taken a single article of clothing off yet.

Aaron notices, one hand traveling south without you paying attention, too busy relishing the way he licks into your mouth, stealing your every breath. The kissing becomes increasingly sloppy when he works his hand into your leggings, under the waistband of your underwear, and into you.

“Oh my god,” your back arches against the wall, pushing his fingers deeper. He doesn’t bother with one, starting right away with two, curling them when you grind harder.

“You’re soaking my hand,” he practically growls into the next kiss, adding a third finger after only a few thrusts. Your body accepts it willingly, always ready for him. “Jesus.”

“More,” you gasp, pushing him deeper. “Aaron, more, I’m serious--” Your words break off as he scissors his fingers, making your eyes roll back instantly.

“I can feel you already,” he smirks against your cheek, pressing a kiss there, an action so sweet and gentle compared to what the rest of him is doing. “Come on, honey. You’re cumming as many times as you want.”

That makes you inch closer to the edge at a frightening speed. He says you can cum as many times as you want, but what he means is he’s going to force as many orgasms out of you as he can. Until you tell him to stop or he decides you need a break. 

The thought of being an overstimulated mess in his embrace later has you climaxing against his fingers, your head falling onto his shoulder as his movements never cease, milking every last wave out of you. 

You lift your head in search of his lips again, which he willingly gives to you, his fingers slowing to soothing strokes as you whimper into his mouth. You’ve only had one orgasm and you already feel ruined. He can tell the way you tremble against him, so he checks in once more.

“Green?” he whispers, kissing your forehead.

You nod. “Green. You?”

He smirks. “Absolutely.”

He picks you up into his arms, inelegantly tossing you onto the bed behind you. You giggle as you bounce on the mattress, tugging your shirt over your head as he does the same to his. His hands move for his belt and you practically jump to the end of the bed, swatting his hands away.

“Since when is that your job?” you frown up at him, unbuckling his belt without looking.

He laughs, petting your head gently. “So sorry, you’re right.”

“What was that?” you tease. “I don’t think I heard you.”

“Don’t push it.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” you smirk, pulling his belt out of the loops and tossing it somewhere. You don’t wait for him to reply before you unbutton his jeans, yanking them down with his boxers.

There’s just something about his dick. You hate that you love it, or maybe you don’t hate it at all. All you know is you need it in your mouth right now.

So, you do that, without any warning. Aaron thrusts forward into your mouth on pure instinct, not expecting you to wrap your lips around him so soon. You slide down the edge of the bed onto your knees, pulling him back to you by his thighs. 

You take your time, pushing his jeans and boxers down further. When you pull back for air, he steps out of them and kicks them elsewhere, returning to you quickly, knowing better than to keep you waiting. 

You swallow him down again, moaning around him in the way you know he loves. It takes all of two seconds before he gently holds the back of your head, asking silently for permission that you were already about to grant. You look up at him, batting your eyelashes as you squeeze his thigh twice. Go ahead.

The thing about Aaron fucking your face is that it took a while for him to do it as hard as you really wanted. He’s always so gentle, a quality that drew you to him initially. You love how gentle he can be. But you love it equally as much when he is rougher with you.

Like now, when he has you pinned against the bed, one hand on the back of your head as he fucks into your throat. It’s blissful, quite frankly, the way he feels, and you thank the universe every time for your lack of a gag reflex. 

He holds you there with a deep groan, and you feel him twitch in your throat once before he pulls you off entirely. You frown up at him, once again not getting what you wanted, but he doesn’t have any time for that.

He picks you up by your armpits, hauling you back onto the bed. Your leggings and underwear are gone in a single second, along with your bra. He’s crawling up your body and crowding your space before you have a second to protest that he wasn’t down your throat for near as long as you wanted him to be. 

All frustrations leave your mind the second he pushes inside of you, immediately sliding home, his hips flush against yours. 

It’s a feeling you’ve grown to love, the way he hits you so deep. Another thing it took him a while to be comfortable doing.

He’s not average sized by any means, and you’re the first to admit it made you salivate the first time you saw. The first time he fed himself into you and worried that he was hurting you, meanwhile you were clawing his back because you wanted more. It hurt for a moment, only an uncomfortable pressure because he was bigger than your vibrator, but as soon as you were used to the size of him, you wanted all of him.

He stays there, deep in you without moving for a moment, grinding against you. His lips attack yours again before he pauses to lean his forehead on yours, trying to catch his breath.

“You drive me crazy,” he says on a shaky exhale.

You wrap your legs around him, thrusting your hips up to take him a little more. His hips stutter, pushing in the way you wanted him to, the way you know you can make him do involuntarily.

“Fuck,” he bites out, turning his attention to your neck again.

You thread your fingers through his hair, tugging. “Exactly. So why aren’t you moving?”

He nips at your neck. “Because if I move, I will cum right away.”

“Who said I only want you to cum inside me once?”

He groans again, fingers digging into your hips as you circle them, though he doesn’t try to stop you. “Greedy” is all he says, but he finally moves.

The thrusts are slow at first, Aaron clearly trying to pace himself. You can’t say you’re doing the same, already chasing your second high as he slams his hips into yours. Your hand reaches down to rub your clit, but is promptly smacked away by Aaron’s hand as he glares at you.

“Since when is that your job?” he echoes you from earlier, only this time, there’s more heat to it. He grabs both of your wrists, pinning them above your head to stop any other temptation. “Not this time.”

His thrusts pick up speed and depth, his body moving against yours in the exact way that makes you fall apart. It’s not often that he doesn’t let you cum from added clit stimulation -- not that you can’t without it; it just makes the high feel that much better -- but sometimes he does. It’s an ego trip for him as much as it is for you.

It also adds an unpredictable nature to it, which is why your second orgasm takes you by such surprise. You seize against him, your hands doing all sorts of squirming to try to break free of his grasp, but he doesn’t let you, and he doesn’t let up. You don’t realize why until you feel the warmth spreading into you as he reaches his own peak. 

You’ve clearly worked him up as much as you worked yourself up because his thrusts barely slow down, and he doesn’t soften inside of you. 

Instead, he pulls out only to flip you on your side, sliding in behind you and pulling your leg up and back over his hips. The action causes some of his cum to spill out of you, but you don’t have any time to focus on that before he fucks back into you. 

You’ve ceased to have any coherent thoughts as Aaron whispers dirty nothings into your ear, one arm wrapped around your body to keep you pinned against him. The pleasure doesn’t stop and at one point, you question if your second orgasm stopped at all or if it has continued this entire time.

Aaron reaches underneath the pillow where he knows he’ll find one of your vibrators because he heard you using it this morning. No, he didn’t fuck you this morning, but you fucked yourself, and truly, at 8am, he should’ve known you’d end up like this by eleven. 

Your mind doesn’t register what the sound means until the vibrator is pressed against your clit. Your body jerks, scrambling for some grounding, your hands finding it in wrapping them around his arm. 

He switches hands on the vibrator, so one hand is free to wrap around your throat. Your eyes roll back as soon as you feel the gentle pressure, your body practically going limp against him. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmurs directly into your ear, his thrusts slowing to deep strokes. “You’ve got a couple more in you.”

“A couple?” is all you manage to say, your hand squeezing his wrist so he knows to squeeze your throat a little more.

“Mhm,” his voice rumbles in your ear, sending goosebumps all over your body. “Is it too much?” His question is laced with just the right amount of pity that makes you shake your head against him. “I thought so,” he replies, switching the vibrator to a higher setting.

It sends you into your third orgasm instantly, squirming violently against him as he pushes into you deeper. He knows how much you love that, and loves how much you squeeze around him as he slides inside, fighting against your muscles that threaten to force him out. You’ve done it before, a mesmerized look on his face and yours when you both realized what happened. Since then, you told him you liked it more when he fought to stay inside. 

He takes the vibrator away as you calm down, his hips also pausing, keeping himself deep inside you. The pressure is soothing, and you take a moment to take a deep breath. His palm falls away from your throat, instead propping underneath your cheek.

It takes a few seconds before you feel yourself spasming around him. He chuckles against your back, pressing a kiss to your neck. “Still?”

You nod dumbly, rocking your hips again. “Yeah. I don’t know, I just-- Need more.”

“I’ve got you,” he soothes, pulling out again to roll you onto your stomach instead, one of your favorite positions.

You’re floating as you settle into the pillows, letting Aaron manhandle you wherever you need to be. You groan in your happy, blissed out state as he slides home again, draping himself over your back.

He is gentler now, knowing that’s exactly what you need at this point. The last orgasm he pulls from you is just as gentle, and he pushes deeper into you, letting you ride it out. 

He pulls your hips up and thrusts once, twice before he’s spilling into you. You didn’t realize he was that close again. The warmth is soothing this time as it spreads through you. 

Aaron leaves you only to settle behind you, spooning you once again. Your hand reaches behind you to find him, and he catches your wrist. 

“You need to rest,” he chides softly.

“I know,” you whimper. “Need you inside me.”

“Okay, okay,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your neck as he slides in again, still half-hard, but it’s enough. You settle down as soon as the weight of him is tucked inside you again. “Better?”

“Mhm,” you sleepily nod, pushing back into him so he holds you tighter. “Do you have to go back to work?”

He chuckles against you, sighing. “No, I’m done for the day, I think,” he says. “I’ll tell them you weren’t feeling well.”

That makes you laugh. “We need a better excuse.”

“Or I need to go back to working in the office.”

You roll your eyes. “Like that’ll make a difference.”

He shakes his head, his mind remembering the same memories that you are. The many lunch hours when you went to eat with him, and ended up with your back pressed into the couch, his tie stuffed in your mouth to keep you quiet.

“Go to sleep,” he says, pulling you impossibly closer. “I’ll make us lunch when we wake up.”

“Perfect,” you smile, nuzzling into him. “Love you.”

“Love you too, honey,” he says, pressing little kisses to your neck and cheeks, wherever he can reach. “Now sleep.”

You’re already halfway there. The combination of him nestled inside of you and the post-orgasm exhaustion is enough to lull you into a restful sleep.

[mcrdvcks]

Until I Found You

Summary: Living in a small town had it's pluses and minuses. But when an older man and his daughter move in, things start to change, perhaps for the better.

Word Count: 24.3k+

Pairing: Logan (X-Men) x fem!teacher!reader

Notes: this is looong, and believe me, i was surprised when i realized that it ended up being 24,000 words.

this thing is a slow-burn, i was literally screaming at my screen saying 'just kiss already!' then realizing that, in fact, i'm the one who has to make them kiss or confess or do something.

reader has a last name, but other than that, she isn't described. this technically could be considered an AU of logan (2017) where logan survives, so this was written with old man logan in mind.

i would like to turn this into another oneshot series, so don't be afraid to send in any requests! (relating to this or anything else you want to see!)

warnings: none!

The small town you lived in meant a few things, everyone knew everyone, and everyone got in everyone’s business.

A few months ago, an older man and his young daughter moved into town. You weren’t sure exactly how old he was, of course you knew who he was, but even you had to admit, he was attractive. But that’s what everyone thought, you heard the mothers who would pick up their children from school, looking at Logan as he picked up Laura.

It was nice to see a man who picked up his kid, though you’ve never seen Laura’s mother, so perhaps that explains why.

Laura was a quiet and sweet girl, at least that’s what you thought. Apparently, she also had the spirit of a firecracker and got angry easily. And while she’s visited the principal’s office at least 9 times since she’s been here, you still can’t help but see her as a cute little girl who’s been through something traumatic, whatever it was.

You were standing outside with your class in the afternoon, waiting until all the students were picked up. Laura was in another teacher’s class at the end of the day, your coworker Emma Zhou. You and Emma stood next to each other, your classes mingling as they waited for their parents to pick them up.

Emma leaned close to you, “this is my favorite part of the day, you know.”

“Yeah, I think it’s everyone’s favorite part of the day. We get to go home after this.” You replied.

“It used to be that, but now…” Emma trailed off as you glanced over at her, “there aren’t a lot of people in this town who are good looking. But he’s a great new addition.”

You hummed noncommittally, so what if Logan was good-looking? It wasn't like you spent your time ogling him. He was just another parent in the sea of them, a bit rougher around the edges maybe, but nothing that special. Emma shot you a knowing look.

"Come on, you’ve seen him, right? That scruffy beard, those eyes," Emma said, nudging you with her elbow. "He’s like one of those rugged cowboys from the old Westerns."

"You sound like you're about to swoon," you teased, trying to keep the conversation light. You didn't want to admit you might have noticed the way his eyes softened when he looked at Laura or the way he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"Well, can you blame me?" Emma shot back with a grin. "Small town like ours, and a guy like that shows up? It's bound to turn some heads."

You knew that much. All the women, even those who were married, always ogled him, but he either didn’t mind or didn’t care. His salt and pepper hair, the thick beard—he was practically a wet dream for women everywhere.

Emma nudged you again, eyes gleaming with mischief. "What, you’re not even the least bit curious about him?"

"I mean, sure, he's... attractive, but I'm not about to join the fan club," you said, shrugging it off, though you could feel heat creeping up your neck. You kept your focus on the kids in front of you, especially Laura, who sat quietly on the steps, doodling in her notebook like she always did while waiting for her dad.

Emma smirked, clearly not buying your indifference. "Yeah, right. I see the way you look over there sometimes."

You scoffed, shaking your head. "You're seeing things."

Just then, you noticed Logan’s truck pull into the school parking lot. He stepped out, running a hand through his hair as he made his way over to the crowd of parents. Laura immediately perked up, her quiet demeanor shifting just a little, and she started gathering her things without a word.

"Speak of the devil," Emma murmured, but you ignored her, watching as Logan approached, his usual scowl in place, though it softened when his eyes landed on his daughter.

He gave a brief nod in your direction as he came closer. "Afternoon."

"Hey," you replied, casually. You weren’t about to give Emma the satisfaction of seeing you flustered.

Laura stood up, slinging her backpack over her shoulder as she walked over to him. She paused in front of you, though, glancing up with those big, serious eyes of hers.

"Bye, Ms. Aberra," she said, her voice quiet but steady with a hint of her accent.

You smiled. "See you tomorrow, Laura."

She gave a small nod before taking Logan’s hand. He didn’t say much else, just a simple ‘thanks’ before turning to leave with Laura in tow. You watched them walk away for a moment longer than necessary, noticing the slight limp in his step that he tried to hide.

"Y/N," Emma sing-songed, breaking you out of your thoughts. "Admit it, you’ve got a little thing for him, don't you?"

You rolled your eyes. "You really need a new hobby."

Emma laughed, but before she could press any further, her attention shifted to another parent picking up their kid, and you were grateful for the distraction. Still, you couldn’t help but wonder about Logan and Laura, what their story was. Everyone in town seemed to have their theories—some more ridiculous than others—but you’d always figured it wasn’t your place to pry.

As the crowd of students and parents thinned out, you found yourself thinking about Logan again. His gruff exterior didn’t bother you—it reminded you of those old Clint Eastwood characters, tough but with something vulnerable underneath. Maybe it was the way he looked at Laura, so protective but with a softness that made you wonder what kind of man he really was when he let his guard down.

Emma’s voice pulled you back to the present. "So, what’s your plan for the evening?"

You shrugged. "Probably just grading papers. Maybe catching up on some Netflix. You?"

"Trying to figure out how to run into Logan at the grocery store," she joked, though you wouldn’t have been surprised if she wasn’t kidding.

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Good luck with that."

As you both said your goodbyes and headed to your cars, you couldn’t help but glance over at Logan’s truck one more time. He was already driving off, Laura in the passenger seat, her head leaning against the window.

You let out a small sigh and got in your car, starting the engine. You weren’t sure what it was about him, but there was something there. Maybe Emma wasn’t entirely wrong.

Not that you’d ever admit that to her.

---

Much to your dismay, you had to go to the store once you were already clad in your loungewear. You wanted to make pasta, only to remember you forgot to get milk after work.

So now, here you were at the small local grocery store grabbing milk and a pint of ice cream for your troubles. The store was quiet at this hour, a few other people milling about but otherwise uneventful. You grabbed a basket and made a beeline for the dairy section, trying to get in and out as quickly as possible. Loungewear was great for a lazy evening at home, but not exactly your first choice for public appearances.

Once you made it to the frozen section, you looked at the pints of ice cream, specifically looking for one of your favorites, Ben and Jerry’s s’mores. “Fuck.” You muttered, seeing a pint of cookie dough in the spot of the s’mores.

You angrily grabbed the cookie dough ice cream to look behind it, only to find a chunky monkey pint. With a huff, you looked at the pint of ice cream, mentally cursing your luck. Just as you were about to put it back onto the shelf, a deep voice spoke from beside you.

"Didn't figure you for a chunky monkey type."

Startled, you looked up and found Logan standing there, one eyebrow raised, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He was holding a six-pack of beer and a carton of eggs in one hand, the other casually resting in the pocket of his jeans.

You blinked, thrown off by the sudden appearance. "What? Oh, no, I was just... I was looking for s'mores," you explained awkwardly, holding up the ice cream like it was evidence.

He nodded, his smirk deepening a little as he glanced at the shelves. "Guess they’re out, huh?"

"Yeah, my luck tonight," you muttered, a little embarrassed to be caught standing here obsessing over ice cream in your loungewear. Not exactly how you wanted to run into the guy you were definitely not crushing on. How could you? He was the Wolverine, around 200 years old, and looked to be the age of your father. Well, if your father was still alive. Or if you ever got to know him.

Logan glanced at the shelf again and shrugged. "S'mores is overrated anyway."

You quirked an eyebrow at him, momentarily forgetting your embarrassment. "Oh really? What’s your go-to then, Mr. Anti-S'mores?"

He smirked, that same low, gravelly voice coming through as he responded. "Not much of an ice cream guy, but if I had to choose… probably plain vanilla. Simple. Not too sweet."

You couldn't help the chuckle that escaped you. "Of course you'd go for the most basic flavor."

His eyebrow twitched slightly at that, and you could see the playful glint in his eyes. "Sometimes simple’s the best option."

You rolled your eyes, grabbing a pint of vanilla. "Well, I guess I'll take your advice tonight, then. Not like I have much of a choice."

He gave you a brief nod, and for a moment, it seemed like the conversation would end there, but then Logan shifted slightly, his weight on one leg, clearly trying to mask the limp you'd noticed earlier. You weren’t sure if it was from the adamantium or something else, but it definitely wasn’t healing like it should. You found yourself biting your lip, wanting to ask but knowing better.

Instead, you went for something safer. "Laura’s doing well in class, by the way. She’s sharp. A little stubborn, but sharp."

He glanced down at you, a flicker of pride crossing his face. "Yeah, she’s a tough one." His expression softened as he added, "She doesn’t talk about it, but I know she likes you. Keeps her distance with most people."

Your heart fluttered a little at that. Laura was a bit of a mystery, rarely engaging much with the other teachers or students, so hearing that she’d let her guard down even a little with you meant more than you’d expected. "Well, she’s a good kid. I try not to push her too much."

Logan nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than you expected, like he was sizing you up in that quiet, brooding way of his. It made you feel both exposed and… oddly seen.

"Anyway," you said, breaking the silence, "I’ll let you get back to your shopping. I’m sure you’ve got more important things to do than stand around talking about ice cream."

He gave a small grunt that might’ve been a laugh, but it was so subtle you couldn’t be sure. "Yeah. See you around, Ms. Aberra."

"Y/N," you corrected, feeling a little awkward. "You can just call me Y/N."

He hesitated for a split second before nodding. "Y/N, then."

You gave him a small smile, feeling a strange warmth at the way your name sounded in his deep voice. He gave a nod before turning to leave, but as he walked away, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at his retreating form. There was something about him—something rough, broken, but undeniably captivating.

---

The next morning, you pulled into the school parking lot, iced coffee in hand, still replaying your chance encounter with Logan at the grocery store. Why did it have to be the one night you went out in loungewear? If Emma ever found out, you'd never hear the end of it. You mentally braced yourself as you walked toward the building, determined to shake off any lingering thoughts about last night.

As you entered the teacher's lounge to drop off your things, Emma was already there, nursing her own cup of coffee. She spotted you immediately and raised an eyebrow.

"You look a little too chipper for a Wednesday," she teased.

You shrugged, trying to act casual. "Just happy to be halfway through the week."

"Uh-huh," she said, not quite convinced. "You didn't run into anyone interesting last night, did you?"

Your heart skipped a beat. How does she know?

"Like who?" you asked, trying to play dumb, but Emma's smirk told you she wasn't buying it.

"Oh, I don’t know... maybe a certain rugged cowboy-looking guy with a truck?" she said, her grin widening.

You groaned. "Seriously, do you have a sixth sense or something?"

"I knew it!" Emma practically squealed. "You did run into Logan, didn’t you? Come on, spill!"

You rolled your eyes and took a seat at the table. "It was nothing. We just ran into each other in the frozen section, talked for, like, two seconds. That’s it."

"Uh-huh, and?" Emma leaned forward, eager for details.

"And nothing. We talked about ice cream. He said s'mores was overrated."

Emma let out a dramatic gasp. "Overrated? Now, I know he's not perfect."

You chuckled despite yourself. "Yeah, well, that's the most thrilling part of my story, so feel free to be disappointed."

Emma shook her head, still grinning. "Oh, I'm not disappointed at all. This is just the beginning."

"There's nothing to begin, Emma," you said, exasperated. "He's just another parent."

"Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that," she said with a wink before heading out to her classroom. You couldn't help but roll your eyes again as you followed her out into the hallway.

---

The morning passed uneventfully, but Laura had been quieter than usual in your class. Not that she was typically the most talkative kid, but today she seemed more distant, even from you. She’d finished her assignments early, as usual, but spent most of the class staring out the window instead of doodling in her notebook.

During lunch, you decided to check in with her. You found her sitting by herself outside, picking at the sandwich Logan had packed for her. You approached cautiously, not wanting to startle her.

"Hey, Laura," you greeted, taking a seat on the bench next to her. "Everything okay?"

She glanced at you, her expression as unreadable as always, before giving a slight shrug. "Yeah."

You studied her for a moment, noticing the way she kept her gaze low, avoiding eye contact more than usual. Something was definitely off. You knew better than to push too hard, but you also didn't want her to bottle everything up.

"Well, you know if you ever want to talk, I’m here," you said gently.

She gave another shrug, but this time, her eyes flickered up to meet yours briefly. "I know."

You nodded, letting the silence settle between you. Laura wasn’t one for big emotional outbursts—at least not around you—but you had a feeling she'd talk when she was ready.

"By the way," you said, changing the subject to lighten the mood, "your dad said he don’t like s'mores ice cream. Is that true, or is he just weird?"

Laura looked up at you, her lips twitching slightly like she was trying not to smile. "I like s'mores."

"Thought so," you replied with a smirk. "Well, I’m officially questioning all of your dad's taste now."

Laura didn’t laugh, but her expression softened a little, and she took another bite of her sandwich. It wasn’t much, but it felt like progress. You let her finish eating in peace, feeling a little more at ease knowing that you’d at least gotten her to relax.

---

The afternoon flew by, and soon enough, the end-of-day pickup routine was in full swing. You and Emma stood outside again, watching the usual parade of parents and cars. Logan’s truck was easy to spot as it pulled up to the curb. You tried to act like you weren’t paying attention, but of course, Emma caught you glancing over.

"Still nothing, huh?" she teased under her breath.

"Shut up," you muttered, doing your best to seem disinterested.

Logan stepped out of the truck, his usual stoic expression in place as he made his way toward the school. Laura was already waiting, standing near the steps with her backpack slung over her shoulder. She saw him and walked over without hesitation, but before they left, she turned back to you.

"Bye, Ms. Aberra," she said, her voice a little softer than usual.

"See you tomorrow, Laura," you replied with a smile.

Logan gave you a nod as they walked past, and you couldn’t help but notice the slight limp in his step again. It was subtle, but there. Your curiosity piqued, but you pushed it down, reminding yourself it wasn’t your place to pry.

Emma, however, was still watching you closely. "You’re so not fooling anyone."

You shot her a look. "Seriously, get a hobby."

Emma just grinned, clearly enjoying this way too much. "Oh, this is my hobby, Y/N. And I’m going to enjoy every minute of it."

As you both stood there, watching the last of the kids get picked up, you couldn’t help but glance over at Logan’s truck one more time as it drove away. Emma’s teasing was getting on your nerves, but there was a part of you that couldn’t completely dismiss what she was saying.

Maybe you were a little curious. Just a little. But you weren’t about to admit that to anyone—not even yourself.

---

Over the weekend you decided it was time to get an oil change. You weren’t going to go to ‘Mavin’s Oil Change’, not after that happened. Which is why for the past few years you’ve been doing it yourself.

It wasn’t difficult, and it was a lot cheaper, both wins in your book.

You walked around the hardware store, glancing at the shelves as you carried a new oil drain pan. You paused in front of the rows of motor oil, scanning the labels. Conventional had always worked fine for you, but maybe this time you'd splurge on the synthetic blend. It wasn't a huge decision, but it felt like a small act of treating yourself, in a way.

You were debating the pros and cons of the oil options when you heard the sound of someone walking up behind you.

"Didn’t peg you for the kind to do your own oil changes."

You turned your head and were met with Logan’s familiar gravelly voice. There he was again—of all places, he’d found you here in the auto section of the hardware store.

"Yeah, well, it's cheaper this way," you replied with a casual shrug, hoping to mask the slight surprise in your voice. You gestured to the oil in front of you. "What about you? Conventional or synthetic blend?"

Logan glanced at the shelf, then back at you. "Conventional. Gets the job done."

"Figures." You grinned a little, grabbing the conventional oil off the shelf. "Guess I’ll stick with what I know too, then."

He raised an eyebrow at you, but there was a hint of amusement behind his usual stoic demeanor. "Figured you’d be one to overthink it. Synthetic’s not all it’s cracked up to be."

You chuckled. "I’ll take your word for it, Mr. Oil Expert."

He grunted in response, grabbing something off the shelf for himself. For a moment, you both stood there, surrounded by tools and motor oil, neither of you saying much. It was kind of nice—quiet, comfortable in a way you wouldn’t have expected.

You shifted, holding the oil pan in your hands. "So, is Laura doing anything fun this weekend?"

Logan glanced at you, his face softening slightly at the mention of his daughter. "Not much. She likes to keep busy, but… this town ain’t exactly got a lot going on."

"True," you nodded, biting your lip as you tried to think of something. "She could come by and help me out with my garden, if she’s interested. I know she likes plants."

Logan looked at you, a little longer than usual, and you wondered if you’d crossed some kind of line offering something so personal. But then he nodded. "She’d probably like that."

"Cool," you said, feeling oddly relieved that you hadn’t messed up. "Let me know if she wants to. I could use an extra set of hands."

He gave a small nod, but his eyes lingered on you again for a second before he turned his attention back to the shelf. There was that same weight to his gaze, like he was always sizing things up, figuring people out.

"You know," you said, breaking the silence, "I’m starting to think you’re stalking me. First the grocery store, now here. Should I be worried?"

Logan snorted, shaking his head. "Pretty sure it’s the other way around."

You raised an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. "Excuse me? If anything, I’m just a simple schoolteacher who likes ice cream and doing her own oil changes. Hardly the stalking type."

"Sure," he replied, the corner of his mouth twitching just slightly into what could almost be considered a smile.

You felt your own lips tugging into a grin, and for a moment, it felt easier. Logan wasn’t always the easiest person to talk to, but something about these small, random moments with him made you feel more at ease than you expected.

"Well, good luck with your oil change," he said, turning to head down another aisle. "Maybe see you around."

"Yeah, see you around," you replied, watching him walk away before you continued shopping, a strange warmth lingering in your chest.

As you walked toward the checkout, you couldn’t help but think back on how natural it felt, just talking to him. There wasn’t any awkwardness or forced conversation—just two people running into each other at the hardware store. Nothing to overthink. Except, maybe, the fact that you were starting to like these encounters more than you’d like to admit.

---

Logan blew out a breath of his cigar smoke. Laura said she didn’t like it when he smoked inside so he started doing it outside on the porch.

A small added bonus was seeing you, a few houses down, across the street, currently underneath your car getting the oil to drain.

The door opened and shut behind him as Laura stepped out, “ella te gusta,” she said softly.

He let out a huff, “kid, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, but I don’t know Spanish.”

Laura let out her own huff, sitting down next to Logan’s chair with her sketchbook, flipping it open. She didn’t say anything for a while, just started sketching in that intense, quiet way she had. Logan leaned back, puffing on his cigar, watching the smoke curl up into the air.

He caught himself glancing back across the street, where you were still working under your car. Laura's earlier comment lingered in his mind, even if he pretended not to know what it meant.

After a few minutes of silence, Laura looked up from her drawing. “You should go help her.”

Logan snorted, taking another puff of his cigar. “She’s fine. Knows what she’s doin’.”

Laura raised an eyebrow at him, her expression skeptical. “You’re always saying people shouldn’t be doin’ stuff like that alone. What if something happens?”

“Yeah, but she’s not helpless,” he grunted, though there was something in his tone that sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than her.

Laura shrugged and went back to her sketch. “Still think you should.”

Logan glanced at her, then back at you. You were sliding out from under the car, wiping your hands on your jeans, looking like you’d handled it just fine. He grunted again, though this time it was more to himself.

“What are you drawing?” he asked, trying to change the subject.

Laura held up her sketchbook, showing him a detailed drawing of a plant—a vine with thorns twisting around a branch. It reminded him of your garden, something about the way the plants seemed to grow wild but still had a certain beauty to them.

“That for Ms. Aberra?” Logan asked, the name slipping out before he could stop it. He tried to keep his tone casual, but Laura shot him a knowing look.

“Maybe.” She shrugged, but there was a smirk playing on her lips. “She likes plants. Thought she’d like this.”

Logan just nodded, staying quiet. He wasn’t about to get into a conversation with an eleven-year-old about why he’d noticed things about your garden or how you seemed to have a way with plants. That wasn’t his style.

“Why don’t you go show her?” Logan suggested, nodding toward you as you gathered up your tools.

Laura seemed to think about it for a second, then shook her head. “Maybe later. She’s busy.”

Logan raised an eyebrow at her but didn’t push it. He knew better than to try and make Laura do something if she wasn’t in the mood. The kid had a stubborn streak a mile wide. Though he supposes it was his fault.

A teenage girl who was walking a dog, a tan pit bull, stopped in front of your driveway, the dog happily wagging its tail as it patiently waited for you to say hello.

You were still wiping the oil off your hands when you noticed the pair. "Hey, there.” You smiled as you crouched down to greet Juno, who leaned eagerly into your hand, her tail wagging excitedly. "How are you, Juno?" you cooed, giving the pit bull a good scratch behind the ears.

The teenage girl holding the leash smiled politely. “She’s been dying to see you again,” she said, giving the leash a little slack so the dog could get closer.

"Well, I’m always happy to see her." You grinned as the dog nudged your leg, clearly wanting more attention. "Been a busy evening?”

The girl shrugged. “Yeah, but Juno here makes it better. You know how it is.”

You nodded. "Definitely. Plants are my version of Juno. Or baking, it’s hard to decide.”

The girl chuckled lightly before glancing at the car behind you. “Doing your own oil change?”

"Yep," you said, standing up and wiping your hands again on the rag. "Easier and cheaper than going to a shop."

She raised an eyebrow. "Impressive. I wouldn’t even know where to start."

“You’d be surprised how easy it is. YouTube tutorials, mostly,” you said, shrugging as you wiped your hands on the rag.

The girl smiled. "I might have to try that next time. If I don’t mess up my car in the process.”

You laughed. "That’s what the tutorials are for. But yeah, it’s not too bad. You’d get the hang of it."

As you chatted with the girl for a bit longer, Juno continued to happily soak up the attention. You scratched behind her ears one more time before standing up straight. “Well, good luck with the rest of your walk. Always nice seeing you two.”

“Same here,” the girl replied, tugging gently on Juno’s leash. “C’mon, girl. Let’s get home.”

You waved as they continued down the street, Juno looking back at you with her tail wagging. With a satisfied sigh, you turned back to finish cleaning up, putting away the oil pan and bottles of motor oil.

Across the street, Logan puffed his cigar, watching as you gathered your tools and wiped your hands one more time. Laura had gone back to her sketching, though every now and then she’d glance up at him with that same look.

“She’s done now,” Laura said after a moment, still sketching.

“I can see that,” Logan grumbled, tapping ash off the end of his cigar.

“Still think you should go help,” she added, not even bothering to look up this time.

Logan huffed, staring at you as you double-checked your work and began packing up. He didn’t need to help—you were obviously handling everything just fine. But still, there was something about the way you worked so methodically, so determined. You’d done it all yourself, like you didn’t need anyone’s help. He couldn’t quite shake the feeling, though, that maybe he wanted to offer it anyway.

“Kid, you sure know how to push buttons,” he muttered under his breath.

Laura just smirked, flipping another page in her sketchbook.

Logan grumbled to himself for a moment longer before standing up from his chair, tapping out the last of his cigar in the ashtray. “Stay here.”

He walked across the street toward your driveway, hands in his jacket pockets, his eyes set on you as you knelt by the toolbox, sorting through the remaining tools.

“You done already?” he called out, making his presence known.

You glanced up, not expecting to see him again so soon. “Yeah, just finished up,” you replied, standing up and wiping your hands on the rag again. “What about you? Something break down?”

“Nah, just figured I’d see if you needed any help,” he said, his tone casual, though you could tell it wasn’t exactly his style to offer assistance without a reason.

You raised an eyebrow, smiling a little. “You offering to help after the job’s already done?”

"Guess I am," Logan replied with a hint of a smirk, his eyes not quite meeting yours.

You couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, it's the thought that counts, I suppose. Next time, I’ll be sure to save the hardest part for you."

"Yeah, you do that," he said, his voice gruff but not unfriendly. He shifted his weight slightly, glancing over at the now-finished oil change. "You do this kind of thing often? Or just the oil changes?"

"Mostly just the oil changes," you admitted, as you leaned in closer like you were telling a secret. “I went on a few dates with Mavin’s son the first few months I was here and didn’t go over well. Now he overcharges me.” You held up your hands, “but if it’s something complicated, I promise I drive 30 minutes to the city to get it checked out.”

Logan's eyes flickered with interest, the corners of his mouth twitching into something resembling a smile. "That right? Well, can't say I'm surprised. Mavin's a bit of a jerk."

You chuckled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Yeah, he wasn't thrilled about me ghosting his son, that's for sure. But hey, I learned how to change my own oil, so I guess something good came out of it."

Logan grunted in agreement, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He didn't say much after that, his eyes lingering on you as if he were trying to piece together something that didn't quite fit. You had a feeling he wasn't used to people like you—people who seemed to find their way into his life, one way or another.

"Well," you said, breaking the silence, "thanks for the offer, even if the job’s already done." You smiled, a little uncertain about what to do next. "Guess I'll see you around."

He nodded, but didn't make a move to leave. "Laura likes you, you know."

That caught you off guard. "Oh," you replied, a bit flustered. "Well, I like her too. She's a good kid. Smart, but... you already know that."

"Yeah," Logan muttered, his voice softer than usual. "She doesn’t open up to many people. But you... you’re different."

You weren't sure how to respond to that, so you just nodded, feeling an unexpected warmth spread through your chest. "I’m glad she feels comfortable around me. She’s been through a lot."

Logan's eyes darkened slightly, a shadow passing over his features. "More than most," he agreed, his voice rough with something that sounded a lot like guilt.

You wanted to reach out, to say something that might make him feel better, but words failed you. So instead, you just stood there, the silence stretching between you, not awkward but charged with something unspoken.

"Anyway," Logan said, clearing his throat as if to shake off the heavy moment. "If you ever need help with the car, you know where to find me. Or Laura."

You smiled, feeling that warmth again. "I’ll keep that in mind. And if you two ever need help with, I don’t know, math homework or... anything else, you know where to find me."

He nodded, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. "Noted."

You watched as he turned to leave, feeling a strange mix of relief and disappointment. As he walked back toward his house, you couldn't help but feel that maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something more than just friendly encounters at the store.

---

During lunch, you sat in your classroom, enjoying 30 minutes of peace and quiet before the kids came back into the room. The soft hum of the heater filled the space, making the room feel warmer than usual as you flipped through the stack of quizzes you needed to grade. The formulas and diagrams were a blur as your mind drifted back to the weekend, specifically to Logan.

The way he’d offered to help with your oil change, the quiet moments that had followed—it was so unlike him. Or maybe, you realized, you just didn’t know him well enough yet. Either way, something about it had left you feeling... something.

A soft knock on the doorframe pulled you from your thoughts. You looked up to see Emma standing in the doorway, that cheeky grin on her face.

“So,” she started, stepping inside your classroom. “I hear you’re making friends with a certain someone across the street.”

You rolled your eyes, setting down the quiz you’d been half-grading. “I’m not ‘making friends.’ We just happen to run into each other.”

Emma raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Mhm. Sure. Totally normal for him to come help with your oil change, right?”

"My God, how do you know?" you asked, eyes widening in disbelief as you sat back in your chair.

Emma smirked, leaning against the doorway like she had all the time in the world. "Small town. You know how people talk." She paused, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Besides, you’re not exactly subtle. Logan? The gruff guy across the street? It’s hard to miss that you two have been... running into each other more than usual."

You sighed, rubbing your temple. "It’s not like that. He just offered to help with my car, and Laura—"

Emma’s grin widened. "Ah, Laura. That’s the key, isn’t it? I’ve seen how she looks at you. That kid doesn’t warm up to just anyone. She’s a little... prickly, but with you? She’s different."

"She’s a good kid," you said, trying to deflect. "She’s been through a lot, you know? I just think she needs someone to talk to. Someone who’s not... intimidating."

"Sure, sure," Emma teased, walking further into the room and sitting on the edge of one of the desks. "But you can’t tell me there isn’t something more going on between you and Logan. I mean, come on. He doesn’t exactly strike me as the ‘friendly neighbor’ type. More like ‘leave me alone or I’ll stab you with my claws’ type."

You chuckled despite yourself. "Okay, yeah, he’s not exactly Mr. Rogers. But it’s not like we’re... you know, it’s just—"

"Flirting?" Emma offered with a raised eyebrow.

"Friendly," you corrected quickly, though the warmth in your cheeks betrayed you. "It’s just friendly. He’s Laura’s dad, and we’ve talked a few times, but that’s it."

Emma gave you a knowing look. "Uh-huh. Sure. And I’m the Queen of England."

You groaned, pushing your quizzes aside. "Why are you so obsessed with this?"

"Because," Emma said with a shrug, "it’s about time you had a little fun in this town. You spend all your time either at school or working on that garden of yours. You deserve to have a life outside of grading papers and pulling weeds."

"I have a life," you protested.

Emma raised an eyebrow. "Really? And when was the last time you went on a date?"

You opened your mouth to reply, but quickly closed it, realizing you didn’t have a good answer. "Okay, fine," you admitted, "it’s been a while. But that doesn’t mean—"

"Exactly my point," Emma interrupted, flashing a triumphant grin. "Look, I’m not saying you have to marry the guy. But Logan? He’s clearly interested. And I think you are too."

"Okay… even if I was interested, I’m pretty sure a guy like that doesn’t have dating or relationships on his mind. Especially with someone like me." You leaned back in your chair, feeling a mix of frustration and doubt.

Emma gave you a skeptical look, shaking her head. "Someone like you? Come on, Y/N. Don’t sell yourself short. You’re smart, funny, and clearly, Logan thinks you’re worth his time. He’s not just helping anyone with an oil change, believe me."

You sighed, crossing your arms. "It’s not that simple. You know what he’s been through. And Laura... she’s been through so much already. I’m not about to mess with their lives."

Emma smirked, tapping her fingers on the desk. "Mess with their lives? Or make their lives better? Laura clearly likes you, Y/N. She’s practically glued to your side when you’re around. And Logan? He’s different with you. I see it."

You frowned, picking up a pen and twirling it between your fingers. "Laura’s nice to me, yeah. But that doesn’t mean anything. She’s indifferent to most of the other teachers, and she barely talks in class. I don’t even know if she likes me, or if it’s just... I don’t know."

"She doesn’t warm up to just anyone," Emma pointed out. "You’re different. She looks at you like she trusts you, and Logan trusts you too, whether he shows it or not. That’s not something that happens often with them. They’re... well, guarded, for obvious reasons."

You were quiet for a moment, thinking about Laura. It was true—she was quiet, distant with others, but with you? There was something different. She’d even started staying after class sometimes, just sitting there while you graded papers or prepped for the next lesson. And Logan? He was always nearby, watching, but never intruding.

Still, the idea of anything happening between you and Logan felt... complicated. "Even if he did trust me, it’s not like he’s the type to be thinking about relationships. The man’s got enough on his plate. And me? I’ve got work, and... I’m not exactly relationship material."

Emma laughed, shaking her head. "Please, Y/N. If anyone deserves a chance at something real, it’s you. You’ve spent so long taking care of everyone else—your students, your job. Maybe it’s time to let someone take care of you for a change."

You looked at her, skeptical. "You think Logan is the type to 'take care of' someone?"

She smirked. "He already is. He’s just doing it in his own way. And trust me, the way he looks at you? There’s more there than you realize. You just have to stop overthinking it."

Before you could respond, the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. Emma stood up, giving you one last knowing smile before heading for the door. "Just think about it, Y/N. Sometimes, the best things happen when you least expect them."

You watched her go, your mind still swirling with doubt and a tiny sliver of hope. Could there really be something more between you and Logan? Or was it just your imagination?

As your students started filing back into the room, you pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the rest of the day. But even as you taught your lessons and graded papers, Logan lingered in the back of your mind.

---

Later that evening, you found yourself in the garden, pulling weeds and trying to clear your head. The sun was starting to set, casting a warm orange glow over the small town. You liked this time of day—the quiet, the calm.

Just as you were settling into the rhythm of pulling weeds, you heard footsteps behind you. Turning around, you saw Logan standing there, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, his expression as unreadable as ever.

"Need any help?" he asked, his gruff voice breaking the silence.

You blinked, caught off guard. "Uh, with the garden? I’m just pulling weeds."

He shrugged, stepping closer. "Doesn’t hurt to have an extra set of hands."

You smiled, feeling a bit awkward but oddly touched by the offer. "Sure, if you’re up for it."

Logan crouched down next to you, pulling at the weeds without saying much. The two of you worked in silence for a few minutes, the only sound being the rustling of plants and the distant hum of traffic.

Eventually, you spoke up, trying to break the tension. "So... Laura’s been doing well in class. She’s quiet, but I think she’s starting to come out of her shell a bit."

Logan glanced at you, a hint of surprise in his eyes. "Yeah? That’s good to hear. She doesn’t talk much at home either."

"She’s a smart kid," you added, pulling another weed. "But I think... she could use someone to talk to. Someone she feels safe with."

Logan was quiet for a moment, then nodded. "She’s been through a lot. Trust doesn’t come easy for her."

You hesitated, then asked, "What about you? Do you feel safe here?"

He looked at you, his expression softening just a little. "Safer than I’ve felt in a long time."

That simple admission hit you harder than you expected. Logan, this gruff, guarded man, was letting his walls down, even just a little. It made your heart ache in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

"That’s good," you said quietly, your eyes meeting his. "I’m glad."

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The quiet between you felt heavy but not uncomfortable. Logan’s presence was grounding, solid in a way that made you feel... safe too.

Finally, he broke the silence. "I appreciate what you’ve done for Laura. She doesn’t trust many people, but with you... it’s different."

You shrugged, trying to downplay it. "I’m just doing my job. She’s a good kid, like I said."

Logan gave a low chuckle, shaking his head. "It’s more than that. She trusts you. And... so do I."

Your breath caught in your throat at his words. There was something unspoken in the air between you, something neither of you was ready to address. But it was there, simmering just below the surface.

"Logan, I—"

Before you could finish, he stood up, brushing the dirt off his hands. "Anyway, I’ll let you get back to it."

You stood up too, feeling the weight of what was left unsaid hanging in the air. "Thanks for the help."

He gave a brief nod, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he turned to leave. "Anytime."

As you watched him walk away, your heart was pounding in your chest. There was no denying it now—there was something between you and Logan. Something real. And it scared you just as much as it excited you.

---

Parent-teacher conferences always stressed you out. Gathering all your students’ information, organizing it all, it was hectic and unreasonable. You couldn’t understand why an email didn’t suffice.

Possibly the worst thing about it is the fact it took place in the school gym, which had no AC. The heat was almost unbearable, making your clothes stick to your skin as you shuffled through your notes, waiting for the next parent to arrive to your table.

The gym was packed, parents and their kids moving between tables as they talked to teachers, making the already stifling room feel even hotter. You fanned yourself with the stack of notes you’d organized earlier, feeling sweat prickle at your back.

You glanced at your list of appointments, sighing when you saw who was next: Logan. You hadn't expected him to come. Laura was doing well enough in your class, but she wasn’t exactly the type to care about grades. You figured Logan would be the same—practical, but not overly concerned about school meetings.

You straightened up, glancing around to see him approaching with Laura by his side. She looked slightly uncomfortable, her arms crossed and her gaze focused anywhere but the gym, while Logan was, well... Logan. His expression was gruff, unreadable as usual, but there was something in his eyes that softened when he saw you.

“Ms. Aberra,” Logan greeted as he reached your table, giving you a nod.

“Logan,” you said, smiling at Laura. “And Laura. How are you two doing?”

Laura shrugged, barely meeting your gaze. Logan pulled out the chair for her, and she reluctantly sat down, still quiet. He stayed standing, leaning on the back of the chair, watching you with that familiar intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” you said lightly, trying to ease the tension. “Laura’s doing fine in class. Really, there’s not much to talk about.”

Logan glanced at Laura, then back at you. “Figured I’d come by anyway. See how things are goin’.”

You nodded, pulling up Laura’s grades on your tablet. “Well, like I said, she’s doing great. She’s one of the best in the class, actually. Quiet, but I can tell she’s always thinking.”

Laura’s face remained impassive, but there was the slightest twitch of a smile at the corner of her lips.

“She’s got potential,” you continued, looking at Logan. “Especially in science. I think she’d be great at anything she wanted to do, honestly.”

Logan grunted in response, but there was a proud glint in his eye. “That’s good to hear.”

Laura finally spoke up, her voice quiet but clear. “I like science. And math.”

You smiled, surprised by her willingness to engage. “Well, you’re really good at it. I was thinking, if you ever wanted, there are some extracurriculars coming up. Science club, math competitions—stuff like that. It might be fun.”

Laura glanced at Logan, who simply shrugged. “Up to you, kid.”

She seemed to think about it for a moment, then nodded slightly. “Maybe.”

“Well, no pressure,” you said, trying to keep it casual. “You can always decide later.”

There was an awkward pause as you flipped through the rest of Laura’s grades, though there wasn’t much else to say. She was excelling, especially considering her background. You couldn’t help but feel a little protective over her, knowing what she’d been through.

“So, uh, anything else you need to know?” you asked, looking back up at Logan.

He shook his head. “Just wanted to check in, make sure she’s on track.”

You smiled, feeling the warmth in his words even if he didn’t show it. “She’s doing great. Really.”

Logan gave you a brief nod, his gaze lingering on you a little longer than necessary before he straightened up. “Thanks.”

You watched as he turned to Laura, ready to leave, but she didn’t stand just yet. Instead, she glanced between the two of you, her brow furrowed slightly like she was piecing something together.

“Are you... friends?” she asked suddenly, her voice cutting through the noise of the gym.

You blinked, taken aback by the question. Logan seemed just as surprised, his eyes widening slightly before he quickly recovered.

“Well,” you said slowly, glancing at Logan for a cue. “I guess you could say that.”

Logan cleared his throat, crossing his arms. “Yeah. Somethin’ like that.”

Laura’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if she didn’t quite believe it but wasn’t going to argue. “Okay.”

She stood up, her chair scraping against the floor as she started toward the exit. Logan hesitated for a moment, giving you one last look before following her. “See you around,” he said, his voice gruff but softer than usual.

You watched them go, feeling that strange mix of emotions again—the warmth, the uncertainty, the possibility of something more. As the door closed behind them, you realized that, for once, you didn’t mind the heat. It was a small town, and people noticed everything. But you were starting to wonder if maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

Laura grabbed his hand as they exited the gym, having already seen her other teachers. She looked up at Logan, as he stared straight ahead at the truck in the parking lot. “Creo que ella te gusta.”

He let out a huff, “kid, don’t know how many times I gotta say it, but I don’t know Spanish.”

Laura gave him a sidelong glance, clearly unimpressed by his response. "You should learn," she muttered under her breath, squeezing his hand as they reached the truck.

Logan grunted as he fumbled for the keys, a slight wince crossing his features as he slid into the driver’s seat. He glanced at Laura, who was already buckling herself in without a word. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t quite easy either.

He turned the key in the ignition, the truck sputtering to life as he pulled out of the parking lot. His mind wandered back to the parent-teacher conference, and specifically to Y/N. She’d always been good with Laura, he could see that. But lately, something about her seemed to calm him too—a feeling he wasn’t used to and didn’t quite know how to handle.

“You like her,” Laura said, breaking the silence with her blunt observation. It wasn’t a question.

Logan’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. “She’s a good teacher. You like her, too.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Laura said, crossing her arms. “You act different when she’s around. You don’t growl as much.”

Logan let out a low chuckle, though it lacked any real humor. “I don’t growl.”

“Yes, you do,” Laura said, looking out the window. “But not at her.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t. Instead, he focused on the road, trying to push away the thoughts circling in his mind. He wasn’t a man used to... feelings, especially not ones that left him unsure. But Y/N had a way of sneaking under his defenses, and that scared him more than he’d like to admit.

“I like her,” Laura said quietly after a long stretch of silence.

Logan glanced at her, surprised by the soft admission. Laura didn’t trust people easily, and she certainly didn’t like many. But her words carried weight, especially to him.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.

Laura nodded, still looking out the window. “She’s not like the others. She doesn’t treat me like I’m different.”

Logan felt a knot in his chest loosen, though he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the relief of knowing Laura had found someone she trusted, or maybe it was the way Y/N had already become a part of their lives, without him even realizing it. Either way, he didn’t say anything more, just drove the rest of the way home in silence, lost in his own thoughts.

---

The next morning, you thanked the stars that it was Saturday. You were exhausted from the large amount of human interaction last night and decided to sleep in a bit before tending to the garden.

After that, and taking a shower, you slipped into comfortable clothes, some small shorts and a large t-shirt that covered the shorts, since it only getting warmer outside.

Even with that said, you couldn’t help but crave chocolate chip cookies, thanking the stars once again that you had all the ingredients.

You turned on the oven, allowing it to pre-heat, as you grabbed a mixing bowl and walked around your small kitchen looking for the ingredients listed on your worn-out piece of paper. You still hadn’t memorized the recipe after making it for years.

The doorbell ringed as you poked your head out the side of your kitchen. When you answered it, you were pleasantly surprised to find Laura outside, wearing what you could only describe as a cute grey shirt with a colorful bear on it. You’d never say it to her, she’d probably leave if you said she looked cute.

“Hey, Laura. D’you need anything?”

“Daddy said I could help with the garden.” She spoke softly.

“Oof, sorry kiddo. Already did it this morning.” You looked back inside your house before turning back to Laura, “though, I could use some help making cookies.”

Laura hesitated for a second, her dark eyes studying you as if trying to decide whether this was worth her time. You were still getting used to her quiet, guarded nature, but you’d learned quickly that she was different around you compared to other people. It was like you had some sort of unspoken understanding, even if you didn’t fully get why.

“Okay,” she finally said, stepping past you into the house.

You closed the door behind her, walking back into the kitchen and grabbing a second mixing bowl. “You ever make cookies before?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder at her.

Laura shook her head, standing by the counter as she watched you.

“Well, today’s your lucky day. I’m about to show you the magic of sugar, butter, and chocolate chips.” You grinned as you started measuring out the ingredients. “Can you hand me the brown sugar?”

She scanned the countertop before reaching for the brown sugar, silently passing it to you. You got the feeling she wasn’t used to this kind of thing—normal, mundane stuff like baking cookies on a lazy Saturday. Not that you knew her whole story or anything, but you’d heard enough about Logan and his complicated life to guess Laura hadn’t had a typical upbringing.

As you started mixing the butter and sugar together, you tried to think of something to say. Conversations with Laura could be tricky; she wasn’t the chatty type, and you didn’t want to push her too much.

“So,” you started, keeping your tone casual, “what’s Logan up to today?”

She shrugged. “Resting.”

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further. Logan resting was a good thing. You knew he’d been having a rough time lately with his health, even though he wasn’t the type to admit it. You figured he was just being stubborn, refusing to slow down even though it was clear his healing wasn’t what it used to be.

Laura remained silent, watching as you added the flour to the mix.

“You wanna stir?” you asked, offering her the spatula.

She looked at it for a moment before stepping closer and taking it from you. Her movements were careful, deliberate, and you couldn’t help but smile as she focused on the task.

“Nice job,” you said, giving her a thumbs-up. “You’ve got a future in cookie-making, I can tell.”

Laura didn’t react much, but you swore you saw the tiniest flicker of amusement in her eyes.

As she stirred, you reached for the chocolate chips. “Best part of making cookies—sneaking a few of these before they go in the dough.” You tossed a couple into your mouth, then held the bag out to her.

She paused, looking at the chocolate chips like she wasn’t sure what to do. After a second, she picked one up and ate it, chewing thoughtfully.

You chuckled. “See? Told you it’s the best part.”

Laura kept stirring the dough while you got the baking sheets ready. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, just… quiet. You didn’t mind it, though. Laura wasn’t the type of kid who needed constant conversation, and you appreciated that about her.

As she worked, you glanced at her again, feeling a strange sense of protectiveness. You didn’t know what exactly she’d been through, but whatever it was, you could tell it had shaped her into someone far older than her years.

When the dough was ready, you started scooping it onto the trays. “Almost done,” you said. “Then it’s just a waiting game while they bake.”

Laura nodded, wiping her hands on a dish towel as she watched you.

You slid the trays into the oven and set the timer before turning back to her. “You want some water or anything while we wait?”

She shook her head, her eyes still on the oven like she was trying to figure out why people made such a big deal out of cookies.

“Well, I’m grabbing a drink.” You poured yourself a glass of water, leaning against the counter as you sipped. “It’ll take around 12 minutes for them to finish. Then we put in another batch, and another until the dough has all been used.”

Laura gave a small nod, her eyes still focused on the oven. It was like she was trying to figure out if all this waiting was actually worth it.

You studied her for a moment, wondering what was going on in that head of hers. She never really said much, but it was clear there was a lot happening behind those dark, watchful eyes. You weren’t exactly sure why she’d taken to you, but you were grateful for it. Laura didn’t let many people in, that much was obvious.

“I can show you a movie. Or maybe some music? I usually play somethin’ while I wait.”

Laura glanced up at you, her brow furrowing slightly. “Music,” she said quietly.

You smiled, glad she was at least open to that. “Cool. Let’s see what we got.” You pulled out your phone and scrolled through your playlist, landing on something mellow, nothing too upbeat or distracting. You hit play, letting the soft sounds of a guitar fill the room.

Laura leaned against the counter, listening, her arms crossed over her chest. She wasn’t fidgety or impatient, just quiet, like she was absorbing everything around her.

You took another sip of water, watching her from the corner of your eye. “You ever help Logan with stuff like this? Like cooking?”

She shook her head. “No.”

You figured as much. “Well, if he ever asks, you’ll be a pro now.” You winked at her, earning the tiniest of shrugs in return.

You both stood there in a comfortable silence, letting the music play. It wasn’t awkward, just… peaceful. The smell of the cookies starting to bake filled the kitchen, and for a moment, it was easy to forget all the heavy stuff hanging in the air—Logan’s health, Laura’s past, whatever weight she carried that you didn’t fully understand yet.

After a few minutes, Laura spoke up. “I talked to Logan about you… last night.”

You paused, surprised she’d bring it up. “Oh yeah? What’d he say?”

She didn’t answer right away, her gaze fixed on the oven. “He said you’re... different from other people. In a good way.”

A warmth crept into your chest at that. “Well, that’s nice of him to say. I think he’s pretty different too, you know. In a good way.”

Laura looked at you, her expression unreadable. “He likes you,” she said, her tone flat, but there was something in the way she said it, like it was a fact she was still processing.

You felt your cheeks heat up a little. “Yeah? Well… I like him too.”

She stared at you for a moment longer before nodding slowly, like she was piecing something together in her head. “He doesn’t trust people. But he trusts you.”

You swallowed, not quite sure how to respond to that. “I’m glad he does. I mean… I care about him, Laura. And you too.”

Laura’s eyes flickered with something—maybe understanding, maybe something else you couldn’t quite name. She didn’t say anything for a while, just looked down at the floor.

Before the silence could stretch too long, the oven timer beeped, cutting through the moment.

“Cookies are done,” you said, turning to grab the oven mitts. You pulled the trays out, setting them on the counter to cool. The smell was even stronger now, warm and sweet, filling the entire kitchen. “Wanna taste test one?”

Laura hesitated for a second before nodding.

You carefully lifted a cookie from the tray, holding it out to her. “Careful, it’s hot.”

She took it, blowing on it before taking a small bite. You watched as she chewed, her face still neutral, but you could tell she liked it.

“Good, right?” you asked, biting into one yourself.

Laura nodded again, chewing slowly. For a split second, you thought you saw a hint of a smile tug at the corner of her mouth, but it was gone just as quickly as it came.

As you both stood there, munching on cookies, the air felt lighter, like some kind of invisible barrier between you had shifted just a little. You didn’t know all of Laura’s story, but you didn’t need to. What mattered was that she was here, sharing this small moment with you, and that was enough.

“So,” you said after a few minutes, breaking the silence. “What should we do next? More cookies? Or maybe try out that movie?”

Laura looked at the remaining dough, then back at you. “More cookies.”

You grinned. “Good choice. Let’s make this batch even better.”

---

After all the cookies came out of the oven, you sent Laura home with a container of some of the batch. You could never eat them all on your own, and you ended up giving some away anyways, so why not give some to Laura?

You walked Laura to your front door and watched as she crossed the street, her figure disappearing behind the door three houses down. There was always something surreal about the way she moved—so quiet, so controlled, like she had learned to blend into the background. It made you wonder what her life had been like before coming here.

When Laura walked in, the container held tightly to her chest, Logan sat on the couch, the soft murmur of the TV barely audible as he sipped from a whiskey bottle. His eyes flicked over to her as the door clicked shut behind her.

“You were gone a while,” he muttered, his voice rough but not harsh.

Laura shrugged, walking past him toward the kitchen. “Made cookies.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, watching her disappear from view. The faint clinking of a container hitting the counter reached his ears. He knew she didn’t do stuff like this unless someone dragged her into it. “With Y/N?” he asked, taking another sip.

Laura reappeared, nodding as she plopped down beside him on the couch, the container of cookies now on the coffee table.

Logan stared at it for a moment, then gave a small grunt of approval. He reached over and grabbed a cookie from the container, breaking off a piece and popping it into his mouth. He chewed slowly, savoring the sweetness that felt out of place in his usual world of bitterness and whiskey.

“Not bad,” he muttered, glancing at Laura. “You help with these?”

She shrugged again, still watching the TV, but there was a hint of satisfaction in her expression that didn’t go unnoticed by Logan.

“Hmm,” he grunted, leaning back. “Maybe next time, you can bring some whiskey to wash ‘em down.”

Laura didn’t smile, but her lips twitched slightly as if she was trying not to.

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, the low hum of the TV filling the room. Logan’s thoughts drifted back to Y/N. He didn’t trust people easily—never had, and probably never would. But Y/N was different. He’d seen how she handled Laura, how she didn’t push too hard or ask too many questions. And she was patient, something Logan knew he didn’t have much of.

“Y/N’s a good one,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

Laura didn’t say anything, but she shifted slightly, leaning her head against the arm of the couch.

Logan watched her for a moment, then sighed, running a hand through his graying hair. He knew settling down wasn’t really in his nature, but for Laura’s sake—and maybe a bit for his own—he was trying. And Y/N? She made that easier, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

“She ask about me?” Logan asked, more curious than he wanted to let on.

Laura nodded, her eyes still on the screen. “Yeah. I told her you were resting.”

Logan snorted. “Resting. That���s a nice way of putting it.”

Laura didn’t respond, and Logan didn’t push further. He knew what Y/N probably thought—that he was just some grumpy guy with a limp, maybe a few too many scars for comfort. She didn’t know the half of it. But she didn’t pry either, and for that, he was grateful.

“Guess I’ll have to thank her for the cookies,” Logan said after a while, taking another sip from the bottle. His mind wandered to the thought of Y/N—the way she smiled when she was around Laura, how she always seemed to have the right balance of patience and understanding. It wasn’t just anyone who could handle a kid like Laura, let alone make her feel comfortable enough to bake cookies on a Saturday.

“She likes you too, you know,” Laura said suddenly, her voice cutting through the quiet.

Logan’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“Y/N,” Laura clarified, her tone as flat as ever. “She likes you.”

Logan chuckled, though there was a bit of discomfort behind it. “You don’t know that, kid.”

Laura looked at him, her gaze piercing and a little too wise for someone her age. “She does. I can tell.”

Logan stared back at her, caught off guard by how matter-of-fact she sounded. It was hard to argue with Laura when she had that look on her face, the same look that said she saw through everything and didn’t waste time with pleasantries.

He cleared his throat, trying to brush it off. “Yeah, well… that’s her problem, not mine.”

Laura didn’t react, just turned back to the TV. But Logan could feel her eyes on him for a few seconds longer before she settled back into the cushions.

Logan shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of Laura’s words hanging in the air. He wasn’t used to people ‘liking’ him in the way Laura seemed to imply. People tolerated him, sure, maybe even respected him, but liking him? That was new territory.

He let out a sigh and reached for another cookie. It wasn’t worth thinking about. Not right now.

But even as he chewed in silence, he couldn’t shake the thought of Y/N—and what it might mean if Laura was right.

---

A few days later, you found yourself at Logan’s house helping Laura with some of her English homework. You usually don’t make ‘house calls’ to help students, but you couldn’t deny Laura.

Logan stayed seated in the living room, drinking a beer and watching the TV. But really, he was pretending not to listen to their conversation in the kitchen.

“You’re doing good, Laura.” You said.

Laura shrugged, her eyes flicking over to Logan in the living room. “Can you stay for dinner?” She asked you.

Logan’s head snapped up at that. He hadn’t expected Laura to ask, but there was no denying that the kid had gotten attached to you. Before you could answer, Laura added, “I made something. With Logan.”

That was a lie, of course. Laura had barely touched the stove since the cookies, but she gave Logan a look that told him to back her up.

Y/N smiled softly. “I wouldn’t say no to dinner.” She glanced at Logan. “If that’s okay?”

Logan grunted, shifting his weight. “Yeah. ‘Course.”

Laura gave a small nod, clearly satisfied with the answer. You smiled, pushing the papers aside. “Guess I’m staying for dinner, then.”

Logan shot Laura a look, one that said what exactly are we eating? but she ignored him, turning her attention back to you. “It’s nothing fancy,” she said, which wasn’t reassuring.

“Well, I’m excited. Food always tastes better when someone else cooks it,” you joked, standing up to stretch your arms.

Logan watched you from the corner of his eye as he sat back down on the couch, pretending to be more interested in the muted TV than he actually was. You couldn’t help but notice the way he seemed a little tenser whenever you were around, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. He was trying to stay low-key, but you could tell he was keeping tabs on every move you made, every word you said.

“So, what’s on the menu?” you asked, trying to ease the quiet that had settled over the room.

Laura, sitting across from you, didn’t answer right away, like she was carefully considering her next move. Logan’s eyes flicked over to her, waiting for her response.

“Spaghetti,” she finally said, her voice as flat as ever.

You raised an eyebrow, suppressing a smile. “Oh yeah? Sounds good.”

Logan gave a low grunt from the couch, and you could tell by his expression that he was trying to figure out when they’d supposedly made spaghetti. But he didn’t contradict Laura, just took another swig from his beer.

“Well, I’m looking forward to it,” you said, standing up from the kitchen table. “Let me know if you need any help.”

Laura didn’t say anything, just headed to the stove where a pot of water was already simmering. You followed her, glancing at the nearly-empty box of spaghetti on the counter. It was clear she hadn’t done this a lot, but the effort was what mattered. And if it meant spending more time with her—and Logan—you weren’t about to complain.

“I’ll get the sauce going,” you offered, stepping beside her. Laura gave you a slight nod, sliding over to make room.

Logan watched from the couch, his eyes narrowing as if he was weighing the situation. He hadn’t expected you to just roll with it, but then again, you always had a way of adapting.

“So, how’s school?” you asked Laura, trying to keep the conversation light while you opened the jar of sauce.

“It’s fine,” she said, her tone noncommittal.

You stirred the sauce, giving a little shrug. “Well, if you ever need help with any other type of homework, you know where to find me.”

She glanced up at you, her expression unreadable, but something in her eyes softened for a second. “I know.”

The two of you worked in quiet sync, with Laura focusing on the pasta and you keeping an eye on the sauce. It wasn’t long before the kitchen started to smell of tomatoes and garlic, the scent filling the air and making the small space feel cozy. For a while, the only sounds were the bubbling pot and the clinking of utensils.

Logan shifted on the couch, clearing his throat. “Need me to do anything?”

You glanced back at him with a smile. “Just sit there and look pretty, Logan. We’ve got this.”

A low chuckle escaped him, though his face didn’t change much. “That so?”

Laura glanced at Logan, her expression unreadable, but you caught the briefest hint of approval in her eyes before she turned back to stirring the pasta.

Once everything was ready, you and Laura brought the food to the small dining table. You plated up the spaghetti, topping it with sauce and a sprinkle of Parmesan. Logan joined you both, moving slower than he probably realized, and sat down with a grunt.

As you all ate, the room stayed comfortably quiet. It wasn’t one of those forced silences that felt awkward—it was more like everyone was just settling into the moment. Laura was still guarded, but you could tell she was starting to relax, even if it was just a little.

“You did good, Laura,” you said, twirling some spaghetti on your fork. “This tastes great.”

She didn’t say anything, just kept eating, but you saw her shoulders ease up ever so slightly.

Logan, on the other hand, glanced between the two of you, chewing slowly. He hadn’t been big on cooking or anything domestic like this, but he could tell Laura had put in effort. He took another bite, grunting his approval. “Not bad,” he said quietly.

You smiled to yourself. This whole thing wasn’t exactly what you’d planned for the evening, but it was nice in its own way—just simple, like normal people having dinner together.

As you were finishing up, Logan pushed his chair back, grabbing his beer bottle from the table. “I’ll handle the cleanup,” he said, his voice gruff but not unkind.

You raised an eyebrow, standing to gather a few plates. “You sure?”

Logan waved you off. “Yeah. Laura and I got it.”

You nodded, stepping back. “Alright, I’ll leave you to it then.”

Laura watched you quietly, her dark eyes flicking between you and Logan. You could tell she wasn’t used to this kind of thing, the casual ease of sharing a meal and cleaning up afterward. But she was learning, and it seemed like she didn’t mind having you around for it.

“Well,” you said, grabbing your bag from the chair. “Thanks for dinner, you two. I’ll see you around?”

Logan grunted in acknowledgment, giving you a nod. Laura followed you to the door, her small figure standing by your side as you reached for the handle.

Before you could leave, she spoke up. “Will you come over again?” Her voice was quiet, almost hesitant.

You smiled softly. “Of course. Anytime.”

She nodded, her face still unreadable, but there was a certain calmness to her now, a trust that hadn’t been there before.

You gave her a little wave before stepping out into the evening air. As you walked back to your house, you couldn’t help but think about how unexpected this had all been.

---

You muttered to yourself, hanging up the phone. Your sink had started to leak, and even though you were fairly handy, when you tightened the pipes, it did nothing.

So here you were, on your lunch break, looking for a handyman that didn’t want to charge you $200 for a quick fix.

Emma walked in, holding a folder with her lesson plans. “So…”

You rolled your eyes, “don’t start.”

“What! I’ve told you, word travels fast. Rose saw you leavin’ his house last night.”

“Rose?” You shook your head, “that woman is 85 and still gossips like she’s 20.” You put your phone down, “I was helping Laura with her English homework.”

"Helping Laura with her English homework?" Emma raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "You mean, at ten o'clock at night? Sure, Y/N."

You groaned, leaning back in your chair. “It wasn’t like that. She’s struggling with some of the writing prompts, and Logan’s... well, you know he’s not exactly the best person for that.”

“Uh-huh,” Emma nodded slowly, setting her folder down. “I’m just saying, you and him… there’s something there. You can deny it all you want, but people see things.”

“People need hobbies,” you muttered. “Besides, Logan’s... complicated. It’s not that simple.”

“I’m not saying it is,” she shrugged. “But you’ve been spending more and more time with him and Laura lately. I’m just curious.”

You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes at her. “Curious about what, exactly?”

“Just curious when you're going to admit you like him,” Emma smirked.

“I don’t—" you started to argue, but stopped yourself. “Emma, he’s… I mean, I care about him, but it’s not like that. He’s a single dad with a kid, and I’m just the neighbor who helps out sometimes.”

“Yeah, sure, Y/N.” Emma grabbed her folder and gave you a pointed look, “if you don’t make a move, someone on the ‘Wolverine Watchers’ will.”

You choked on the iced coffee you took a sip of, “the what?”

Emma grinned, “the ‘Wolverine Watchers’. A bunch of women in the town created a Facebook group about him. I joined out of curiosity.”

You blinked at Emma, still processing what she’d just said. “Hold on—there’s a Facebook group about Logan? Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” Emma said with a smug smile. “They call themselves the ‘Wolverine Watchers.’ There’s, like, at least 30 women in it. Maybe more.”

You shook your head in disbelief, sinking back into your chair. “That’s insane. Why would anyone even...”

“Oh, please,” Emma interrupted. “Don’t act like you don’t get it. He’s rugged, mysterious, barely speaks to anyone, and he’s got the whole grumpy-silver-fox thing going on. They eat it up. Hell, even I get it.”

You glared at her. “You’re not helping.”

She leaned against the desk, still grinning. “Just saying, don’t wait too long, or one of them might swoop in.”

You waved her off, though a part of you felt oddly defensive about the whole thing. “Logan’s not interested in any of that.”

Emma shrugged, pushing off the desk and heading for the door. “Maybe. Maybe not. But are you interested?”

You opened your mouth to respond before shaking your head. “Okay. I’m going to forget this part of our conversation and continue to try and look for a plumber or handyman.”

Emma laughed, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “Fine, fine. But if you need help with Logan or plumbing, you know where to find me.”

She left the room at the same time Laura walked in. She walked over to the front of your desk and stared at you with those eyes of hers. “You need help?” Laura finally asked.

You shook your head, “no. Just need a plumber. The sink in my kitchen is leakin’.”

Laura tilted her head slightly, considering something. “Why don’t you ask daddy?”

You sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “Because your dad’s busy, and it’s not his problem to deal with. I’ll figure it out.”

“He fixed the dishwasher last week,” she pointed out quietly, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “And the dryer.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to bother him with stuff like this,” you countered, trying to ignore how her face lit up every time she mentioned something Logan had done for you. “I’m sure he’s got enough on his plate.”

Laura didn’t respond right away. Instead, she leaned against your desk, her small fingers tapping lightly on the wood. “He likes helping,” she murmured, almost like she was testing the waters.

You looked at her, raising an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Mhm,” she nodded, but quickly glanced away, pretending to focus on the bulletin board behind you. “He’s good at fixing things.”

You watched her for a moment, your irritation from earlier starting to melt away. It was hard to stay frustrated when she was being so earnest. “Okay, okay, I get it. But your dad doesn’t need to be the town’s go-to handyman.”

Laura glanced up at you through her lashes. “Just tell him. Please?”

There was something almost… hopeful in her gaze, and you felt a twinge of guilt. Laura wasn’t the type to ask for much. If this meant that much to her…

“Fine,” you sighed, holding up your hands in surrender. “I’ll ask him. But only because you asked nicely.”

Laura’s lips twitched in the faintest smile, a look of victory crossing her face. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, but you’re not off the hook yet,” you teased gently. “You still owe me an essay on Newton’s laws of motion, remember?”

She scrunched up her nose, making a face. “I know. I’ll finish it.”

“Good,” you nodded, giving her a playful wink. “And don’t go trying to bribe me with homework just to get me to talk to your dad, okay?”

Laura’s eyes widened in mock innocence. “I would never.”

“Uh-huh,” you said skeptically. “Alright, head back to class. Lunch is almost over.”

She gave a small nod, then glanced back at you before leaving. “He really likes you, you know.”

Your heart stuttered, caught off guard by her bluntness. “Laura—”

“Just saying,” she added quickly before ducking out the door and heading down the hallway.

You stared at the empty doorway, a mix of emotions swirling in your chest. Liking you? What did that even mean coming from an eleven-year-old?

You shook your head, trying to push the thought away. Logan was… well, Logan. Gruff, quiet, and often impossible to read. And sure, he’d been more present lately, but that didn’t mean anything. He was just being a good neighbor.

You glanced at the time on your phone, groaning softly. Lunch was almost over, and you hadn’t even finished setting up for the afternoon class.

“Guess I’ll ask him about the sink,” you muttered under your breath, more to convince yourself than anything.

Because if Laura was already noticing things, how long would it be before the whole town started talking?

---

That evening, after school had ended and you’d finally managed to get through the rest of your lesson plans, you found yourself standing in front of Logan’s place. It was only a short walk down the street, and yet, your feet felt heavier with each step.

You could hear the faint sound of a TV through the open window and the soft murmur of voices—Laura and Logan, probably talking about her day. It was… nice. Domestic. Something that made your chest tighten with an inexplicable emotion.

“Just ask about the sink and go,” you whispered to yourself, giving a firm nod. “No big deal.”

You knocked lightly, and a few seconds later, the door swung open to reveal Logan. He was in his usual attire—flannel shirt, jeans—and he looked at you with that same unreadable expression.

“Hey,” you said, suddenly feeling awkward under his gaze. “I, uh, wanted to ask for a favor.”

His brow furrowed slightly, and he stepped back, gesturing for you to come inside. “What’s goin’ on?”

You hesitated, then took a deep breath. “My kitchen sink started leaking, and… well, I tried fixing it, but I think I made it worse. Laura said you’re good at this kind of stuff, so I thought… maybe…”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You want me to take a look at it?”

“Yeah,” you nodded quickly. “If you’re not too busy. I don’t want to—”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted, already grabbing a toolbox from a nearby shelf. “Let’s go.”

You blinked. “Wait, you don’t want to, like, finish dinner or something first?”

He shot you a look that was almost amused. “I’m not gonna let your kitchen flood because of a sink. C’mon.”

You let out a small laugh, relieved by his reaction. “Okay, fair point. Thanks, Logan.”

“No problem,” he grunted, stepping out onto the porch. “Lead the way.”

As you walked back to your place, you stole a glance at him. Logan might have been gruff and intimidating to most people, but you’d come to learn there was more to him than that.

When you reached your house, Logan set to work immediately, inspecting the pipes under the sink. You leaned against the counter, watching as he tinkered and adjusted, his movements methodical and precise.

“You didn’t have to come over right away,” you said softly, breaking the silence. “I know you’ve got a lot going on.”

He didn’t look up, just shrugged. “It’s fine. Better to fix it now than let it get worse.”

“Yeah, I guess,” you murmured. “But still… thanks.”

Logan glanced at you then, his eyes lingering for a moment longer than usual. “You don’t gotta thank me every time I do somethin’ for you, Y/N.”

“I know,” you replied, offering a small smile. “But I want to.”

He gave a low grunt, something between acknowledgment and dismissal, and returned his focus to the pipes. You stayed silent, watching him work, trying to make yourself useful by occasionally handing him a tool or holding a flashlight.

“You’ve done this before, huh?” you asked, breaking the silence again.

Logan didn’t look up, but you saw the faintest twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “Couple times.”

“Fixing sinks?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “Or just everything?”

“Everything,” he muttered. “You learn to handle stuff when no one else can.”

There was an unspoken weight behind his words, something you didn’t pry into. You knew Logan had been through more than he let on—there were pieces of his life you still hadn’t put together, and you weren’t sure you ever would. But that didn’t stop you from being curious.

Instead, you chose to keep the conversation light. “Well, I appreciate it. I probably would’ve made a bigger mess if I’d kept trying.”

He grunted again, this time almost in agreement, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Okay, I walked into that one,” you admitted. “But seriously, thank you. Laura was right—you are good at this.”

Logan tightened the last pipe and stood, wiping his hands on a rag. “She talks too much sometimes.”

You shook your head, still smiling. “She’s just proud of you.”

He didn’t respond, his eyes darkening for a brief moment before he shifted the subject. “It’s done. Shouldn’t leak anymore, but if it does, just call me.”

You nodded, feeling that strange tightening in your chest again. “Got it. Thanks again.”

Logan grabbed his toolbox and started for the door, but something in the air between you both felt unfinished, like there was something unspoken hanging there. Before you could second-guess yourself, you called out.

“Logan?”

He paused, his back to you.

“I meant what I said earlier,” you continued, a little more quietly this time. “I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, and I don’t want to add to it. But I appreciate you helping me.”

Logan turned, his gaze locking onto yours. There was something in his eyes—something you couldn’t quite place. For a second, you thought he might say something, but then he just gave a slow nod.

“Don’t worry about it, Y/N,” he finally said. “If you need somethin’, I’ll be around.”

He turned and walked out the door, leaving you standing in your kitchen, staring after him. You exhaled, feeling a mix of confusion and warmth.

Later that evening, as you cleaned up and prepared for the next day’s lessons, you couldn’t stop replaying the interaction in your head. Logan’s quietness, his willingness to help, Laura’s knowing smiles. There was something stirring there, something more than just neighborly concern.

But you pushed the thoughts aside, reminding yourself of the practicalities. Logan was a single dad with a complicated past, and you… well, you had your own life to focus on. This wasn’t the time to start overthinking things.

Still, as you drifted off to sleep that night, the image of Logan fixing your sink—focused, calm, and oddly comforting—stayed with you.

---

You’ve never liked storms. You’re not sure why, you grew up in Houston where it rained consistently and encountered a few hurricanes.

But when you turned 18, you went to college further north in Texas, getting away from the rain and finally getting sunshine and real heat, not humid heat.

It never rained much in the north of Minnesota, but when it did rain, it rained a lot. So much so that the school cancelled classes for the rest of the week.

You could use the time to catch up on grading assignments, but instead you found yourself barely able to keep your attention on the TV, flinching every time you heard thunder.

The storm outside raged on, lightning flashing every few seconds, followed by the rumble of thunder that rattled the windows. You glanced at the stack of papers you’d set aside to grade, but your mind just wasn’t in it.

“Why does it always feel worse at night?” you muttered, sinking deeper into the couch, trying to focus on the TV.

Then, a knock at the door startled you. You weren’t expecting anyone, especially with the weather this bad.

You got up, hesitating for a second before opening the door to reveal Laura, soaked from head to toe, holding a small flashlight.

“Laura? What are you doing out here?” you asked, eyes wide with concern.

“Our power went out,” she explained quickly, shivering slightly. “Daddy said I could come over here since your lights are still on.”

You frowned, glancing past her toward Logan’s house, which was barely visible in the heavy rain. “Is your dad coming over too?”

Laura shrugged, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “He said he’d figure it out.”

You closed the door behind her, grabbing a towel from the bathroom and handing it to her. “You should’ve just called, you know. I would’ve come to get you.”

Laura gave you a small smile as she dried off. “It’s fine. I didn’t want to wait.”

You shook your head, unable to suppress a smile at her stubbornness. “Of course you didn’t.”

The two of you sat in the living room for a while, Laura settling into the corner of the couch with her legs tucked under her, still glancing out the window at the storm every so often.

“How long’s the power been out?” you asked after a few minutes.

“Since just after dinner,” she replied. “Daddy was gonna try and fix it, but he said it might take a while.”

You nodded, already feeling a little guilty. If the power didn’t come back on soon, you’d probably end up with both of them staying over. Not that you minded, but it was one of those situations where you didn’t want to impose. Especially with Logan.

Almost on cue, there was another knock at the door, this one heavier, more deliberate.

You didn’t even have to look to know it was Logan.

You opened the door to find him standing there, drenched like Laura had been. His hair was plastered to his head, and his usual gruff expression was softened slightly by the rain dripping from his face.

“Come on in,” you said quickly, stepping aside.

Logan entered, shaking off some of the rain before giving you a nod. “Thanks. Power’s out, and I don’t think it’s comin’ back anytime soon.”

You closed the door behind him and offered him a towel, which he accepted without a word. He glanced over at Laura, who had made herself comfortable on the couch, and then back at you.

“You alright with us bein’ here?” he asked, his voice low but genuine.

“Of course,” you replied, waving it off. “I’m not gonna let you sit in the dark with no heat.”

Logan nodded, though there was something in his eyes—something like gratitude, though he didn’t voice it.

The three of you sat in the living room for a while, the storm still raging outside. It wasn’t exactly the most comfortable silence, but it wasn’t awkward either. Just... quiet. Logan wasn’t one for small talk, and Laura seemed content just to be around people, her gaze flicking back and forth between you and her dad.

As the night wore on, the storm didn’t let up, and Laura’s eyelids started to droop. You glanced at the clock, noting how late it was getting.

“You’re welcome to stay the night,” you offered, glancing between them. “It’s still coming down pretty hard out there, and I don’t think the power’s coming back on soon.”

Laura perked up at the suggestion, but Logan hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with the idea. “We’ll be fine,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t wanna impose.”

“You’re not imposing,” you said firmly, crossing your arms. “There’s a guest bedroom, and I’ve got blankets. Besides, I’m not letting either of you walk back in this mess.”

Laura, sensing her opportunity, chimed in before Logan could object. “I want to stay,” she said quietly, her eyes big and hopeful.

Logan sighed, glancing at his daughter, clearly torn. “Laura…”

“Daddy, it’s still storming,” she added, her voice soft but insistent. “We can stay, right?”

You jumped in before he could refuse. “It’s no trouble, Logan. Really. Laura can take the guest bedroom, and I can sleep on the couch.”

Logan gave you a skeptical look. “You’re not sleepin’ on the couch in your own house.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s your bed,” he grunted. “I’ll take the couch.”

Before you could argue, Laura piped up again, her voice full of innocent mischief. “You could both sleep in the bed.”

Your eyes widened, and you quickly glanced at Logan, whose expression had shifted to one of slight surprise.

“Laura,” you started, but she just shrugged, clearly enjoying this more than she should have been.

“What?” she said innocently. “It’s a big bed.”

Logan sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You’re not helpin’, kid.”

Laura just grinned, her eyes gleaming with quiet victory. “I think I am.”

You cleared your throat, trying to regain control of the situation. “I’m fine with sleepin’ on the couch, really. Can’t really sleep when it’s stormin’ anyways.”

Laura, still lounging on the couch, piped up again, her grin growing wider. “You could just share the bed.”

Your face flushed, and you shot her a look. “Laura—”

“What?” She shrugged, playing innocent, but you could see the hint of mischief in her eyes.

Logan sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Kid, stop messin’ around.”

She held up her hands in surrender, but the teasing smile on her face didn’t budge. “I’m just saying it’s an option.”

You shook your head, feeling a mix of embarrassment and amusement. “Laura, you’re gonna sleep in the guest room. I’ll be on the couch. End of story.”

Laura rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. “Fine.”

Logan glanced at you, his eyes softening for a brief moment before he muttered, “You sure about this? I don’t wanna take your bed.”

You waved him off, trying to sound casual. “Seriously, it’s no big deal. Just get some rest. You’ve been out in the rain long enough.”

He hesitated for a second, then gave a small nod. “Alright. But only because you won’t stop arguin’.”

“Exactly,” you said, smiling a little as you grabbed an extra blanket from the hallway closet and tossed it to Laura. “You can get settled in the guest room, kiddo.”

Laura caught the blanket and headed toward the guest room with a little bounce in her step, clearly pleased with how things were turning out. You watched her disappear down the hallway before turning back to Logan, who was still standing in the living room, looking somewhat out of place.

“You can leave your wet clothes by the door if you want,” you offered, trying to keep things normal, even though the situation felt anything but.

Logan gave a quiet grunt of acknowledgment, pulling off his soaked jacket and hanging it on the back of a chair. He moved slowly, like he was still debating whether to argue about the sleeping arrangements again, but thankfully, he didn’t.

After a minute, he glanced back at you, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You really are stubborn, you know that?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Takes one to know one.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head as he walked past you toward your bedroom. “Fair enough.”

Once he disappeared into the room, you let out a small sigh, running a hand through your hair. This was... not how you expected your night to go. Sharing your house with both Logan and Laura during a storm, with Laura sneakily playing matchmaker. It was almost funny, if not for the fact that Logan being this close made your heart race a little too much for comfort.

You settled back onto the couch, pulling a blanket over yourself and staring at the TV screen without really watching it. The sound of rain pounding against the windows and the occasional crack of thunder filled the quiet, but it was hard to focus on the storm when you knew Logan was in the next room.

Laura had probably planned this all along.

You glanced toward the hallway where the guest room was, wondering if she was already asleep—or if she was lying there, scheming her next move.

Thunder broke you out of your thoughts, making you flinch slightly under the blankets.

You settled deeper into the couch, but sleep wasn’t coming any easier despite the exhaustion from the day. Your mind kept wandering, mostly back to Logan and how natural it had started to feel having him and Laura around. Maybe a little too natural.

A sharp crack of thunder rattled the windows, and you flinched again, instinctively pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders. You’d thought you were getting used to storms, but this one was relentless, dragging on with no signs of easing up.

Just when you started to think you’d be up all night, you heard the soft creak of the floorboards behind you. You turned, expecting to see Laura coming out of the guest room, but instead, Logan stood there in the dim light of the living room, looking as uncomfortable as you felt.

“Can’t sleep?” you asked, your voice quiet but steady, despite the storm.

He shrugged, leaning against the doorway. “Not used to sleepin’ anywhere but my own bed.”

You nodded, biting back a knowing smile. “Yeah, I get that. Storm’s not helping much either.”

Logan’s eyes flicked to the window, then back to you. His gaze was a little softer than usual, like the storm had taken some of the edge off his usual roughness. “You alright? Heard you jumpin’ every time the thunder hits.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to brush off his concern. “It’s nothing. Just... not a fan of storms.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Logan said, stepping further into the room. He hesitated for a moment, then moved to sit on the armrest of the couch, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. “Don’t have to tough it out, y’know.”

You looked up at him, caught off guard by the gentleness in his tone. It wasn’t like Logan to be this open, to offer any sort of comfort. He usually kept things buried under layers of gruffness and distance.

“Guess I’m just used to toughing it out,” you said softly, offering him a small smile.

Logan studied you for a moment, his eyes flicking over your face, like he was weighing his next words carefully. “You don’t always have to. Not with us.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. You weren’t sure what to say. This side of Logan—the quiet, protective side—was something you’d only seen glimpses of before, but tonight, it was like the storm had brought down some of his walls.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” you finally said, but your voice lacked its usual conviction.

“Not worryin’,” Logan replied, his gaze steady. “Just statin’ a fact.”

The thunder rolled again, quieter this time, as if the storm was finally starting to let up. Logan’s eyes lingered on you for a beat longer, before he stood up, looking like he was about to head back to the bedroom.

But then he paused, glancing over his shoulder. “If you want... there’s room in the bed.”

Your breath hitched, and you blinked up at him, not sure if you heard him right. “What?”

Logan’s lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile, but his expression remained serious. “I ain’t suggestin’ what Laura was earlier,” he muttered, a little embarrassed. “Just... if it helps you sleep better, I don’t mind. Couch’s not exactly comfortable.”

Your heart thudded in your chest, caught off guard by the unexpected offer. Logan wasn’t the type to offer comfort lightly, and the idea of sharing a bed with him—platonically or not—made your pulse quicken.

“I—” You faltered, unsure how to respond. But something in the way he was looking at you made it clear this wasn’t just about the storm or being polite. This was about something more—something that had been quietly building between the two of you for a while now.

Before you could overthink it, you nodded. “Okay.”

Logan’s eyebrows raised slightly, surprised by your answer. He stepped aside as you stood, grabbing the blanket from the couch. Neither of you said anything as you walked down the hallway to your bedroom, the tension thick but not uncomfortable—more like an understanding had settled between you.

Once inside, Logan shifted awkwardly as you took your side of the bed, pulling the blanket over yourself, trying to act like this was normal, like your heart wasn’t racing in your chest. Logan laid down on the opposite side, keeping a respectful distance, though the bed felt smaller with him in it.

The sound of the rain outside softened, though the occasional rumble of thunder still rolled in the distance. You stared at the ceiling, hyper-aware of Logan beside you, the space between you feeling charged.

“You good?” Logan asked after a minute, his voice low in the quiet.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I’m good.”

A beat passed. Then another.

“Thanks,” you added, not just for offering the bed, but for being there, for not making this weird.

Logan turned his head slightly to look at you, his eyes soft in the dim light. “Ain’t nothin’.”

But it was something. It was a lot, actually.

You both lay there in silence for a while, the sound of the rain becoming almost soothing. You could feel the warmth of him next to you, solid and reassuring, and slowly, the tightness in your chest began to ease.

Just as your eyes started to drift closed, Logan’s voice broke the silence again, so quiet you almost missed it.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he murmured, his voice gruff but sincere. “You don’t have to do this on your own. Not with us around.”

Your heart swelled, a mix of emotions you weren’t quite ready to confront just yet. You didn’t know what to say, so instead, you reached out, your hand brushing against his in the small space between you.

Logan didn’t pull away. Instead, his fingers curled gently around yours, his grip warm and steady.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you fell asleep without flinching at the sound of thunder.

---

You woke up to the sound of soft rain pattering against the window, the storm from last night finally easing up. For a second, you forgot where you were, until you felt the weight of the blanket and the warmth of another presence next to you. Logan. His steady breathing filled the quiet space, and you shifted slightly, careful not to wake him.

This was new.

You glanced over at him, his face relaxed in sleep, the tension he usually carried nowhere to be found. It was strange seeing him like this—calm, almost peaceful. You could feel the residual warmth from his hand where he’d held yours last night, and the memory made your chest tighten.

Carefully, you slipped out of bed, not wanting to disturb the rare moment of quiet. You padded out into the hallway, stopping by Laura’s room to peek in. She was still asleep, wrapped up in blankets, her small body barely a lump under the covers.

You smiled to yourself, already suspecting that she had something to do with last night’s sleeping arrangements. Laura was too clever for her own good sometimes.

In the kitchen, you started brewing coffee, the scent filling the small space. As you waited for it to finish, you found yourself staring out the window, your mind still on Logan. Last night had been... unexpected. But not unwelcome. The way he’d stayed close, offering comfort without making a big deal out of it—it meant more than you wanted to admit.

The soft creak of footsteps behind you pulled you out of your thoughts.

“You’re up early,” Logan’s gravelly voice broke the quiet.

You turned to see him leaning against the doorway, his hair still a little mussed from sleep, but otherwise looking much like his usual self.

“Couldn’t sleep much after the storm,” you shrugged, offering him a small smile. “Coffee?”

“Yeah,” he grunted, moving to sit at the kitchen table. “Thanks.”

You poured two mugs, setting one in front of him before taking a seat across from him. For a moment, neither of you spoke, just sipping your coffee in the comfortable silence that had settled between you.

Logan glanced at you over the rim of his mug, his eyes softer than usual. “You sleep alright?”

You hesitated, remembering how easily you’d fallen asleep next to him. “Better than I expected, honestly.”

He grunted in acknowledgment, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Guess the storm wasn’t as bad as you thought.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to fight the heat creeping up your neck. “Or maybe it was the company.”

Logan’s smirk widened slightly, but he didn’t push it. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his eyes scanning the kitchen before settling on you again. “Thanks for lettin’ us stay. Laura didn’t give you much choice, huh?”

“She didn’t have to,” you replied with a shrug. “I wasn’t gonna let either of you stay in a freezing house with no power.”

Logan nodded, his eyes drifting to the window. “Power should be back on soon. I’ll head back once it’s up.”

You didn’t say anything, but part of you felt a pang of disappointment at the thought of him leaving so soon. You hadn’t had many moments like this—quiet, with just the two of you—and you found yourself wanting it to last a little longer.

Laura’s quiet footsteps broke the silence as she padded into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

“Mornin’, kid,” Logan greeted her.

“Mornin’,” Laura mumbled, glancing between the two of you with a knowing look before plopping down at the table. “Is the power back on yet?”

“Not yet,” you said, trying to ignore the way she was eyeing you and Logan.

Laura just shrugged, grabbing the cereal box from the counter and helping herself. “Guess we’re stuck here a little longer, huh?”

You shot her a look, but she didn’t seem fazed, her focus on her cereal. It was hard to tell if she was playing innocent or if she was just that good at pretending.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” you asked, trying to shift the conversation.

Laura perked up at that. “You said you’d help me with my English homework, remember?”

You blinked. “I—uh, right. Yeah, I did say that.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, looking at Laura. “Since when do you need help with English?”

Laura shot him a quick look before turning back to you, all smiles. “I figured Ms. Aberra would be better at explaining it than you.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, starting to catch on. “I’m sure you’re doing fine in English, Laura.”

She shrugged, playing with her spoon. “Yeah, but it’s better when someone explains it.”

Logan just shook his head, clearly not buying it either, but he didn’t say anything, letting Laura’s little game play out.

“Well,” you said, getting up from the table. “I guess we can take a look at it after breakfast.”

Laura grinned, clearly pleased with how things were going. “Thanks, Ms. Aberra.”

You smiled back, even though you knew something was up. Sure, you had been helping her with English homework for a while now, but she didn’t need the help. When she would show you her essays or answers to questions about a reading, they were always perfect. Still, you played along, grabbing your coffee and heading toward the living room.

“Alright,” you said, glancing over your shoulder at her. “Go grab your stuff, and we’ll take a look.”

Laura jumped up, cereal forgotten, and dashed off to retrieve her things. You settled onto the couch, sipping your coffee and trying to push aside the strange feeling that this was part of something bigger. But what?

Logan followed you into the living room, sitting down in the worn armchair opposite you. He gave you a look—one eyebrow slightly raised, lips set in that half-smirk he sometimes wore when he was figuring someone out.

“She really roped you into this, huh?” he asked, voice low and rough.

You shrugged, trying to seem casual. “It’s not a big deal. I’m used to kids asking for help with schoolwork.”

“Yeah, but Laura? She doesn’t ask for help unless she’s got some kind of angle.”

You laughed softly, but the truth of his words settled somewhere in the back of your mind. Laura wasn’t just a smart kid—she was calculating. You’d seen it in class and at home. The way she observed things, the way she always seemed to know what was going on, even when no one said a word.

“I guess I’ll find out,” you said, leaning back into the couch.

Before Logan could reply, Laura returned, a small notebook and a pencil in hand. She sat beside you, flipping it open to a random page. You glanced at the page, immediately noticing that it was filled with neat, almost perfect handwriting. The essay she’d written didn’t have a single correction or revision mark.

“Alright,” you began, pretending you didn’t see the perfection in front of you. “What do you need help with?”

Laura handed the notebook over, her face perfectly serious. “I just wanted to know if the introduction’s strong enough.”

You skimmed through the first paragraph, and honestly, it was better than anything you’d expect from a sixth grader. If anything, it felt more like she was testing you than asking for actual feedback.

“It’s good,” you said slowly. “Your thesis is clear, and you have a strong opening sentence. You might want to make the transition to your first point a little smoother, but overall, it’s solid.”

Laura nodded thoughtfully, pretending to make a note in her notebook. You watched her for a moment, trying to figure out what game she was playing. There was no way she needed your help, but for some reason, she wanted you here. And Logan, too.

Logan just sat quietly, watching the two of you like he wasn’t quite sure what was happening either. His hand rested on the arm of the chair, fingers tapping lightly. You could feel his presence, steady and grounding, even when he wasn’t saying anything.

Laura glanced at her dad. “Ms. Aberra’s a pretty good teacher, don’t you think?”

Logan’s eyes flicked to you, his smirk back in full force. “Yeah, I’d say so.”

You gave Laura a suspicious look. “You’re not just buttering me up for extra credit, are you?”

Laura’s eyes widened in mock innocence. “No. I just like the way you explain things.”

“Mhm.” You weren’t buying it, but it was hard not to laugh.

The quiet hung between you all for a moment, just the sound of the rain outside and the occasional scrape of Laura’s pencil against her notebook. It felt… peaceful, despite the nagging feeling that something was going on beneath the surface.

“Alright, well,” you finally said, pushing yourself up from the couch. “Looks like you’ve got this handled, Laura. I don’t think you need much help.”

Laura blinked up at you, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Thanks anyway.”

You caught the look she sent Logan’s way, and suddenly, it clicked. She didn’t need your help with homework—she was just trying to get you to stick around a little longer. Maybe even trying to give you and Logan more time together.

Smart kid.

Logan, of course, said nothing, just watching you with that unreadable expression he wore so well. You could never quite tell what he was thinking, and it both frustrated and intrigued you.

"So," Laura said suddenly, breaking the quiet. "What’s the plan today?"

You glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. "You’re the one with the notebook full of perfect essays. I thought you had plans."

Laura grinned at that, not even trying to hide it anymore. "I was thinking we could all go out for lunch. Since we’re stuck here."

Logan gave her a look, but didn’t say anything, clearly seeing through her. You stifled a laugh, playing along. "Lunch, huh? You paying?"

Laura shrugged, looking way too pleased with herself. "I’ll ask nicely. Maybe you’ll cover it."

You shook your head, pretending to think it over. "Might be able to swing it."

Logan snorted. "Real generous of you."

"Hey, I’m a teacher. Gotta budget wisely," you shot back, smirking at him.

Laura just smiled, clearly happy with how things were going, and it hit you again—she was definitely playing matchmaker. Subtle, but it was there. Not that you minded. Spending more time with Logan wasn’t exactly a hardship.

Logan leaned back in his chair, his eyes still on you, though. "You’re sure you don’t mind us hanging around?"

You tilted your head, genuinely surprised. "Logan, if I minded, I wouldn’t have let you in. You’re both always welcome here."

For a second, he looked like he was going to argue, but then he just gave a slow nod, like he was accepting it—maybe even appreciating it, though he’d never say that out loud. "Thanks."

You shrugged, trying to act like it wasn’t a big deal, even though you knew it kind of was. "Don’t mention it."

Laura got up, stretching her arms over her head before grabbing her empty bowl. "I’ll go get ready for lunch then," she said, already heading to the sink. "I’m starving."

You watched her go, then turned back to Logan, raising an eyebrow. "Think we’ve got time for that before the power comes back on?"

Logan shrugged, his smirk returning. "Could be out a while longer."

"Convenient," you muttered, though there was no real bite to it.

Logan chuckled, a low, rough sound that made something in your chest tighten. He set his empty mug on the coffee table and stood up, stretching slightly. "Guess we better make sure the kid doesn’t eat the place out of food while we wait."

You laughed, following him into the kitchen. The dynamic between the three of you felt easy now, comfortable in a way that surprised you. Even with Laura’s not-so-subtle attempts at matchmaking, there was something natural about how you and Logan were around each other. It wasn’t rushed or forced. Just... right.

Laura appeared from the hallway, already dressed and tugging on her jacket. "Ready when you are," she said, a little too cheerfully.

Logan gave her a look. "We haven’t even decided where we’re going."

"I’ll leave that up to the grown-ups," she said, grabbing her shoes.

You exchanged a glance with Logan, both of you clearly thinking the same thing: this kid was way too clever for her own good. But neither of you called her out on it.

"Alright," Logan finally said, grabbing his jacket. "Let’s get going before the power comes back and ruins her plan."

Laura grinned but didn’t say anything, grabbing your hand as you all headed out into the damp, cool air. The rain had finally stopped, but the sky was still overcast, a soft, gray light filtering through the clouds.

You walked beside Logan, Laura skipping a few steps ahead, her eyes darting around like she was taking everything in. She was always like that—watching, observing. And now you knew why. She was playing a long game, slowly pushing you and Logan closer together, little by little.

You couldn’t help but smile. She was good. Really good.

And maybe, just maybe, you were starting to appreciate her efforts.

---

The school did something special for parents on Valentine’s Day. Instead of just handing out donuts or cupcakes, they did a competition.

There was different challenges for each couple, or pairing, to finish, and to make it even better, their kids would have to guide them on certain challenges, like walking blindfolded to the finish line on the field.

Emma glanced over at you as you were going through the list of parent’s names, making sure everyone had a partner. There were a few single parents, so you had to figure out who they should be paired with. But there was an odd number, one parent would have to sit out.

“So… who’s sitting out?” Emma asked, leaning on the desk next to you. She had that casual curiosity in her tone, but you knew she was just as invested in making sure things ran smoothly as you were.

You chewed your lip, staring at the list. “Looks like we’ve got one extra parent. I’m not sure yet.”

Emma peeked over your shoulder, scanning the names. “What about Logan?”

You paused, looking at the list. Logan’s name was there, as was Laura’s, but you hesitated. He wasn’t exactly the type to jump into school events, especially one that involved blindfolds and teamwork. And while he’d been involved in Laura’s life, you weren’t sure he’d want to participate in something like this.

“Yeah, guess he can sit out. We have an odd number of parents anyways.” You put down the clipboard and looked at the empty donut box, “I’ll be right back. Gonna go to the other room and get another box.”

As you moved toward the door, you noticed Laura sitting quietly in the corner, fiddling with her notebook, watching everything with that usual sharpness in her eyes. She had been quiet all morning, almost too quiet. You gave her a smile before heading to the break room, still feeling a little awkward about pairing up the parents.

Emma stayed behind, her eyes flicking between you and Laura, a slight smirk tugging at her lips like she was onto something.

You weaved through the hallway, your mind still on the whole situation. These parent events were always a little tricky when it came to single parents. You knew Logan wasn’t exactly the type to jump into the school scene, especially for something like a Valentine’s Day competition, but you couldn’t help but think maybe he’d want to give it a shot for Laura.

Grabbing the donut box, you paused for a second. The idea of Logan being there today, paired up with someone else, didn’t sit right. Not that you had any reason to feel that way. It was just... Logan. You weren’t even sure if he’d show up.

When you returned to the room, Laura was still sitting there, now scribbling something in her notebook. She glanced up as you entered, her expression neutral but her eyes watching you closely.

“Everything okay?” you asked, setting the fresh box on the table and moving to grab the clipboard again.

Laura nodded. “Yeah, just thinking.”

“Thinking about the competition?” You smiled, trying to make conversation, but she just gave you a vague shrug.

“Something like that.”

Emma glanced at you, her smirk still there as she made a little noise of amusement. “Logan didn’t strike me as the ‘competition’ type. But who knows?”

You shot her a look, but before you could respond, the door swung open, and Logan walked in. Speak of the devil. He looked around, taking in the sight of parents getting ready, kids buzzing with excitement. His eyes landed on you, and he gave a short nod, his usual gruff greeting.

“You’re here,” you said, surprised, trying to keep your voice casual. “Didn’t think you’d make it.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, his hands in his pockets. “Laura signed us up. Thought I’d better show.”

Laura, sitting nearby, perked up but kept her face mostly neutral. She wasn’t about to blow her cover, not yet anyway.

“Right,” you said, glancing down at the clipboard. “Well, there’s an odd number of parents, so... I was thinking maybe you’d sit out.”

Laura, quick as ever, jumped in. “Or you could partner with someone else.”

You blinked at her, caught off guard. “Well, yeah, I guess, but we don’t really have—”

“You could partner with Daddy.” Laura said it so simply, like it wasn’t a big deal, like she hadn’t been plotting this for weeks.

Logan’s eyes narrowed slightly as he glanced between the two of you, clearly realizing what his daughter was doing, but he didn’t say anything. He just stood there, waiting for your reaction.

You stammered a bit, caught completely off guard. “I—I don’t know if that’s a good idea...”

Laura gave you a look, one that said she knew exactly what she was doing. “It’s just for the competition. Besides, it’ll be fun.”

Logan’s gaze flicked to you again, and this time, there was a slight smirk on his face. “It’s just a game, right? We’ll survive.”

Emma, watching the whole thing play out, was trying very hard not to laugh. “Looks like you’re stuck with Logan, Y/N.”

You felt a wave of heat rise in your cheeks. It was one thing to think about spending time with Logan, but being thrown into a school competition with him—especially with Laura being the mastermind behind it—was another.

“Okay, fine,” you muttered, trying to act like this wasn’t a big deal at all. “I guess we’ll partner up.”

Logan just gave a nonchalant shrug. “Let’s get this over with.”

Laura’s eyes practically sparkled with victory as she hopped up from her seat, already heading toward the field where the first challenge would take place. You followed, trying to shake off the awkwardness, but it was impossible with Logan right next to you.

As you reached the field, the first task was announced: a three-legged race. Of course. Out of all the challenges, it had to be this one. You glanced over at Logan, who was already eyeing the ropes being handed out for the pairs to tie their legs together.

"This should be interesting," Logan muttered under his breath, taking one of the ropes and holding it out for you.

You raised an eyebrow, trying to hide your nerves behind a smile. "I feel like this is a recipe for disaster."

Logan’s lips quirked into a smirk. "Only if you don’t keep up."

"Me?" You chuckled, shaking your head as you bent down to tie the rope around your ankle and his. "You’re the one with the bum leg."

Logan grunted, not arguing, though his usual swagger was still intact. "I’ll manage."

Laura stood off to the side, watching with a faint smile, clearly enjoying the show. You could tell she was pleased with herself, and part of you was too, even if you were trying to act like this was no big deal.

"Alright, ready?" Logan asked, standing up straighter after securing the rope.

"As I’ll ever be," you replied, trying to gauge the best way to navigate the race without falling flat on your face.

The whistle blew, and before you knew it, you were awkwardly hopping forward, one leg bound to Logan’s as you tried to find some sort of rhythm. The first few steps were disastrous—Logan’s longer strides making it nearly impossible for you to keep pace without stumbling.

"Slow down!" you laughed, grabbing his arm to steady yourself as you nearly tripped.

Logan smirked, his hand quickly coming to your waist to keep you from toppling over. "You gotta move faster than that, Y/N."

"Or maybe you need to move slower!" you shot back, trying to adjust your steps to match his. After a few shaky moments, you finally found a rhythm, the two of you moving in sync—well, mostly. Logan’s hand lingered at your waist, steadying you as you both half-hopped, half-laughed your way toward the finish line.

"Not bad," Logan grunted as you crossed the line, not quite first, but definitely not last either.

"Not bad?" You shot him a look, still a little breathless from laughing. "I’m pretty sure we almost face-planted three times."

"Could’ve been worse," he replied with a shrug, that smirk of his still in place.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny the way your heart was still racing—though you weren’t sure if it was from the race or from the fact that Logan had kept his arm around your waist longer than necessary.

Laura, waiting at the sidelines, gave you both a knowing look as you untied the rope. "You guys were pretty good," she commented casually, though the glint in her eyes said otherwise.

"Pretty good?" you echoed, shooting her a playful glare. "We almost ate dirt, Laura."

Logan grunted in agreement but didn’t say much, just shaking his head as he rubbed his leg a bit. You noticed the slight grimace that flashed across his face—something you hadn’t seen often, but it was there for just a moment before he covered it up.

"Next challenge is... egg balancing," Emma announced from the other end of the field, holding up a spoon and a carton of eggs.

You and Logan exchanged a look, and you couldn’t help but laugh. "Oh, this’ll be fun."

Logan just sighed, clearly less than thrilled about the prospect of trying to balance an egg on a spoon, but he didn’t protest. You handed him one of the spoons as you lined up for the next round.

"You got a steady hand?" you teased, raising an eyebrow at him.

Logan glanced at the spoon, then back at you. "Steadier than yours, probably."

"Let’s see about that," you shot back, placing the egg carefully on your spoon. The whistle blew, and you both started across the field, trying to keep the fragile eggs from toppling off. You had to admit, Logan had a surprising amount of focus for a guy who usually looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.

"Not bad for an old man," you joked, glancing over at him as you both carefully moved toward the finish line.

"Careful, Y/N. That’s how you get egg on your face," Logan muttered, but you could hear the amusement in his voice.

Just as you were nearing the end, Laura darted over, watching closely. "Come on, you guys can do it!"

It was hard to ignore the pride in her voice—she was definitely enjoying watching you two work together. And maybe, despite the ridiculousness of it all, you were too.

By the time you finished, both of your eggs still intact, you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of accomplishment. It was silly, sure, but being paired with Logan for these goofy challenges wasn’t as awkward as you thought it might be. In fact, it was... kind of nice.

"Two for two," Logan said with a smirk, handing his spoon back as the event wrapped up.

"Don’t get too cocky," you replied, bumping his arm lightly as you handed yours in too. "We’ll see how you do with the next one."

Laura appeared beside you again, her eyes bright. "You guys make a good team."

You gave her a sideways glance, trying not to read too much into her words. "Yeah, well, it’s all about teamwork, right?"

Logan didn’t say anything, but his eyes met yours for a brief moment, and there was something there—something unspoken that made your heart skip a beat.

The rest of the day went by in a blur of silly games and laughter, and by the time the event was over, you were exhausted, but in the best way possible. Logan had stayed the whole time, never complaining or trying to bow out early. Laura, of course, was thrilled with how things had turned out, and you couldn’t help but feel like she had succeeded in whatever plan she had been cooking up.

As the parents and kids started to trickle out of the school, you found yourself standing beside Logan near the door. Laura had already run ahead to grab her things, leaving the two of you alone for a moment.

"Thanks for sticking around," you said, glancing up at him. "I know this probably wasn’t your idea of a fun day."

Logan shrugged, his usual nonchalant expression in place. "Wasn’t so bad."

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. "Well, I’m glad you came. Laura seemed to really enjoy it."

"Yeah," Logan agreed, his gaze softening slightly as he looked in the direction where Laura had run off. "She’s a good kid."

"She is," you said, nodding. "And she’s lucky to have you."

Logan didn’t respond right away, but after a moment, he gave a small nod. "Thanks."

There was a brief silence between you, the air charged with something unspoken but palpable. Before you could say anything else, Laura came bounding back, her backpack slung over one shoulder.

"Ready to go?" she asked, looking between the two of you with that same knowing glint in her eyes.

"Yeah," Logan said, ruffling her hair lightly. "Let’s get outta here."

As they started to head for the door, Logan paused, glancing back at you. "See you around, Y/N."

"Yeah," you replied, feeling your heart skip again. "See you around, Logan."

---

It had been a few days since the Valentine’s Day event, and things had settled back into routine. You were sitting in your living room, halfway through grading papers, when there was a knock on your door.

Opening it, you found Logan standing there, hands shoved in his pockets, looking slightly out of place.

"Hey," he greeted, voice low. "Laura wanted me to ask if you'd join us for dinner tonight. Nothing fancy. Just... thought it’d be nice."

You blinked, surprised by the invitation. Logan wasn’t exactly the type to invite people over casually, but something about the way he stood there, slightly awkward, made your heart skip a beat.

"Sure," you said, smiling. "I’d like that."

Dinner at Logan’s place was unexpectedly warm. Laura set the table with care, and you found yourself laughing more than you expected as Logan recounted some old stories about his past. The tension that usually simmered between you felt different tonight—softer, like you were slowly crossing an invisible line you’d both been careful to avoid.

As you helped clear the dishes, your hand brushed against Logan’s, and the brief contact made you pause. He glanced at you, and for a moment, neither of you moved. It was like a quiet acknowledgment of something building between you.

“Thanks for coming,” he said, his voice low, his gaze lingering just a little too long.

“Anytime,” you replied softly, feeling the weight of his eyes on you as you turned to put the plates away. You tried to ignore the flutter in your chest, but it was hard with Logan standing so close. It was like every time you were around him, you felt like something unspoken hovered between you—something that Laura, in her quiet, clever way, seemed determined to help along.

Laura wandered back into the room, a book in her hands. “Y/N, can you help me with my English homework?” she asked, holding it up and glancing between you and Logan like she hadn’t just interrupted a moment.

You blinked, turning to her with a small smile. “Of course, I can take a look.”

“Great!” Laura said, her voice a little too cheerful. She plopped down on the couch and spread her notebook and book out in front of her. “It’s this essay I’ve got to write.”

Logan lingered by the kitchen counter, his eyes flicking to Laura’s book with an expression you couldn’t quite read. “I’ll leave you two to it, then,” he muttered, and before you could say anything, he was stepping outside, probably to get some fresh air or give you and Laura some space.

You turned your attention back to Laura, still smiling but a bit confused. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got here.”

Laura launched into an explanation, talking about a character analysis she needed to do for class. As you glanced over her notes, though, it struck you that everything was pretty much perfect. Her sentences were clear, her argument made sense, and she’d clearly put a lot of thought into it. Like always, it was perfect.

“Laura… this is really good,” you said slowly, giving her an impressed look. “I don’t think you need help with this.”

Laura’s face stayed impassive, but you caught a faint hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Just wanted to make sure it was okay,” she said casually, glancing in the direction Logan had gone.

Something clicked then, and you had to suppress a chuckle. So this was just another one of Laura’s little schemes to get you to stick around. You were starting to see the pattern—tiny excuses to keep you close, to get you and Logan in the same room more often. It was subtle, but now that you were catching on, it was impossible to miss.

“Well, your essay’s great,” you said, folding your arms as you gave her a knowing look. “But I think there’s more going on here than just English homework.”

Laura’s gaze stayed steady on yours, and for a moment, you could see a glimpse of something deeper in those eyes—something far beyond her years. “He’s lonely,” she said quietly, so softly that you almost missed it.

Your heart gave a small squeeze at that. It was true that Logan always seemed like a man on the outskirts of everything, never quite fitting in. And you knew he and Laura had been through a lot together, more than most people could imagine. But he wasn’t exactly the type to talk about his feelings—or admit he might need someone else in his life.

“Maybe,” you replied gently, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder. “But that’s something he has to figure out on his own, okay?”

Laura nodded slowly, but she didn’t look entirely convinced. “He likes you,” she said, blunt as ever. “And you like him.”

Your cheeks heated, and you glanced away, trying to keep your voice steady. It wasn’t the first time Laura has said something like this. “It’s not that simple, Laura.”

“Why not?” she asked, her brow furrowing like she genuinely didn’t understand.

You struggled to find the right words. How could you explain that things with Logan were complicated—that you weren’t sure where you stood with him, or if there was even a place for you in his life beyond being Laura’s teacher? And yet, every time you were near him, there was this pull, this quiet magnetism that made you wonder.

“I just… don’t want to mess things up,” you admitted finally, feeling a little silly for having this conversation with an eleven-year-old.

Laura’s gaze softened, and she reached out to squeeze your hand. “You won’t.”

Before you could respond, the door swung open, and Logan stepped back inside, his gaze immediately going to the two of you. “Everything okay?” he asked, his tone gruff but laced with something you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

“Yeah, we’re good,” you said quickly, trying to push down the strange mix of emotions Laura’s words had stirred up. You stood up, smoothing down your shirt as you gave him a smile. “I should probably get going, though. It’s getting late.”

Logan nodded, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something that almost looked like disappointment. “I’ll walk you out.”

He led you to the door, and you hesitated for a moment, glancing back at Laura. She gave you a small, encouraging smile, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Thanks again for coming,” Logan said as he opened the door, his voice a little softer than usual.

“Anytime,” you replied, echoing your earlier words as you stepped outside. The cool night air hit you, and you wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling the weight of Logan’s gaze on you.

There was a long pause, the kind that felt like something should be said, but neither of you knew what. You shifted on your feet, biting your lip as you glanced up at him.

“Logan, I—”

“Y/N, I—”

You both spoke at the same time, then paused, sharing a startled laugh.

“You first,” Logan muttered, his lips twitching into a faint smile.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “I just… I wanted to say that I really enjoyed tonight. And I know Laura’s been… well, playing matchmaker or something,” you added with a chuckle, “but I just want you to know that I’m not—”

“Using her as an excuse to get close?” Logan finished for you, his voice dry but not unkind.

You nodded, feeling a little self-conscious. “Yeah.”

Logan stood there, his eyes steady on yours, and for a moment, you both let the silence fill the space between you. He shifted his weight, his usual stoic expression softening just a bit, and for the first time, it felt like he was truly considering what to say next.

"Look, I know Laura's been trying to push things," he said, his voice low and gruff, but gentler than usual. "She's... smart, too smart sometimes. But this—tonight—it wasn’t just about her."

You blinked, surprised by his admission. You weren’t used to Logan being so open, especially about anything personal. He seemed to read the surprise in your face and let out a quiet sigh, rubbing the back of his neck like this was harder for him than any physical fight he’d been in.

"What I mean is," he continued, glancing at the ground before his eyes flicked back up to yours, "it’s not just her, Y/N. I didn’t mind tonight. And that’s not something I say often."

Your breath hitched a little at his words, heart beating a little faster. There was a vulnerability in Logan that you weren’t expecting—a side of him that he clearly didn’t let out much, if at all.

"I didn’t mind it either," you said softly, trying to match his tone, to let him know you weren’t taking this lightly. "And Laura... well, she’s got a way of seeing things."

Logan let out a quiet chuckle, a rare sound that caught you off guard. "Yeah, she does. Sometimes I think she’s too smart for her own good." His eyes softened as he spoke about her, a fondness there that made you smile.

"She just wants you to be happy," you said gently. "And, I guess, maybe me too."

Logan looked at you for a long moment, something unspoken passing between you, and for the first time, you wondered if maybe—just maybe—there was something more here than just a shared concern for Laura. You had always admired Logan’s strength, his quiet loyalty, the way he looked after Laura with such fierce protectiveness. But standing there now, with the night air cool against your skin and Logan’s presence so close, it felt different. More personal.

"You know," Logan said after a long pause, his voice low again, "I don’t exactly have a lot of people in my life. Never been good at that sort of thing. But... you’re good with Laura. And you’re—" He stopped, his jaw tightening for a second like he wasn’t sure if he should say the next part. "You’re good for us."

Your heart thudded in your chest, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond. His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and you could feel the weight of what he wasn’t saying—the layers beneath that simple statement. You’re good for us. It wasn’t just about being Laura’s teacher anymore. It was about something more.

Your heart thudded in your chest, but you forced a smile to keep things light. “Good for you?” you repeated with a slight chuckle. There was an ache there, something that hinted at how much more those words meant coming from Logan—someone who didn’t let people in easily. The way he looked at you, steady and deliberate, made it hard to brush aside. His eyes held yours a little longer than usual, almost daring you to look away.

"Yeah," he replied, his voice a low rumble, and you couldn’t help but notice how the weight of the night seemed to gather between you, thick in the air. Logan’s usual guarded stance had softened, just enough for you to sense it. He stepped a bit closer, enough that you could feel the faint warmth of him, the earthy scent of cigars and the wild outdoors clinging to his skin.

You shifted on your feet, trying to figure out where this was heading, but the flutter in your chest only grew stronger. Something unspoken seemed to pass between you two, like a current beneath the surface, waiting for one of you to reach down and touch it.

“I think Laura’s got something figured out,” you admitted, voice soft as you kept your eyes on him. “She’s smart enough to see what’s happening here.”

Logan’s lips quirked into a small, barely-there smile. “Yeah, too smart sometimes.” His gaze fell to the ground for a moment, and when he looked back up at you, there was something different there—something raw. “But she’s right. You’re good for us. Hell, you’re good for me.” His words carried a weight, a kind of honesty that took you by surprise, even though deep down, you’d been hoping to hear them for a while.

You swallowed, trying to keep your composure, but your pulse quickened. “Logan, I…” You started to say something—anything—to break the tension, but the words stuck in your throat. He was so close now, you could feel the heat radiating off him, and there was a wildness in his eyes that drew you in.

And then, as if some invisible line snapped, Logan took another step toward you, his rough hand reaching out to cup your cheek. His thumb grazed your skin, the touch light but electrifying. “I don’t say things like this often,” he muttered, his voice husky, the growl in it more pronounced now, “but I want you to stay close. For Laura, yeah, but... for me too.”

Your breath hitched as his words sank in, your body reacting to the closeness of him, the way his hand lingered on your cheek. It wasn’t just the softness in his eyes or the tenderness of his touch, but the way he was looking at you, like he was seeing more than just the surface.

“I’ve wanted to stay close,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper, as your hand gently touched his chest. His heartbeat was strong, steady, and you couldn’t help but feel drawn in, like the pull between you was more than just chemistry.

Logan’s gaze dropped to your lips, and for a moment, everything else faded away—the cool night air, the sound of distant traffic, even the faint light from inside the house. All that mattered was the closeness, the way you could feel his breath mingling with yours.

Before you knew it, Logan was leaning in, and you closed the gap without thinking. His lips pressed against yours, rough and warm, and everything else just melted away. The kiss was slow at first, almost tentative, but then it deepened, and the heat between you flared like wildfire.

His other hand found your waist, pulling you closer against him, and you could feel the solid strength of his body as you pressed into him. The kiss was everything you hadn’t let yourself think about for so long—filled with a hunger that had been simmering beneath the surface, waiting to spill over.

Logan kissed like he lived—intensely, without holding back. His grip on your waist tightened as if he was afraid to let go, and you responded in kind, threading your fingers into the rough texture of his hair. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing; just the two of you, connected in this raw, unexpected moment.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, you both stood there for a moment, neither of you saying anything. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and Logan’s forehead rested against yours, his breath still ragged.

“I—” you started to speak, but he cut you off, his voice low and hoarse.

“Don’t,” he muttered, shaking his head slightly. “Don’t ruin it with words, not yet.”

You nodded, biting back whatever thought was trying to escape. The night air felt cooler now, the warmth of Logan’s body contrasting sharply against it, grounding you in the moment. His hand lingered on your waist, thumb brushing your side, and you could feel the slight tremor in his fingers, like even he was surprised by what just happened.

After a long silence, he finally spoke, voice quieter than before. “Didn’t think this’d happen,” he admitted, almost to himself.

You gave a soft laugh, still trying to catch your breath. “Me either.”

His lips quirked into the faintest of smiles, and he shifted slightly, his hand moving from your waist to gently brush your cheek. The gesture was so uncharacteristically tender for him that it made your heart twist a little.

For a moment, you both just stood there, the weight of everything unspoken hanging between you. Part of you wanted to step back, to put some distance between you and Logan, to give yourself a chance to think. But another part—the stronger part—wanted to stay right where you were, feeling the warmth of his hand on your skin, the rough edge of his thumb grazing your cheek.

Meanwhile, Laura peeked through the blinds, a smile spreading across her face.

tags: @freythecrazyfae