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captain-huggy-bear · 1 day ago

Text

In Your Element

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: N/A

Summary: Quinn finally gets an opportunity to each lunch with you at your school, but he arrives a little early and sees a different side to you, when you're absolutely in your element.

Notes: This was a request which I very much enjoyed writing, so thank you:

'For Quinn x teacher reader you could do Quinn going to eat lunch with her at school and getting there early on accident and just admiring her teaching and her getting along with her students and then getting home and just telling her how much he admires her and loves her and wants to marry her'

Not me researching Canadian school grades and ages because it is not the same in the UK (Grade 11 is age 16-17, where as year 11 in the UK is age 15-16 and also the final year of secondary for us)

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

Most days Quinn doesn't get a chance to go and visit you at work and he'd never had the opportunity to sit and eat lunch with you during the school day. After all, you were busy and so was he. You had maybe 40 minutes in a day to sit down and eat, then if he subtracted the time in that 40 minutes you needed to tidy your room, put books out for your next class, write the title on the board, sort your powerpoint out and then pee, plus dealing with any dramas your students brought to your door? Well, you probably had 10 minutes to eat...and he, well, how often was he actually available at that specific time of day? It was like ships in the night sometimes, both having highly busy careers in different ways, but you made it work. Partly by taking any moments that you could find and utilising them, both of you had to learn to be a bit more spontaneous and flexible.

Something that was easier said sometimes than done, but your desire to see each other had a way of making bending easier than breaking. It helped that you'd moved in with him before the season started, so at least he saw you at night and in the early hours of the morning.

Today was different, an odd day where the stars had seemingly aligned. Quinn had a free 2 hours in his day just at the right time for lunch with you and you had a free period after lunch which meant you didn't have to spend all your lunch break sorting stuff out for your next lesson. So, you'd agreed to tell the office he'd be visiting and he agreed to bring your favourite sandwich from your favourite deli along with other goodies for you to snack on.

The problem was Quinn hadn't expected to be 20 minutes early, Vancouver traffic being almost non-existent (which was a rarity) and the deli having absolutely no one inside despite it being lunch time (he briefly considered that the zombie apocalypse might have happened at that point). Being 20 minutes early meant he didn't really have anything to do. At first he assumed he'd have to simply wait in the office, but Maria on reception just gave him his visitors badge and walked him to your classroom, ushering him away from the uncomfortable visitors seats.

Your door is shut to keep the noise of the corridor out of your classroom. From the small window in the door Quinn can see the way your 11th graders sit in various states of focus, you're leant against your desk at the front, hands moving as you talk to them. There's something about how relaxed you are at the front of the classroom, the way you seem to be in your element that hits him. He's never seen you teach a lesson before and it strikes him that it seems right, like it's where you're supposed to be.

Maria knocks on the door and he watches as you pause, telling your students something before setting a timer on the board. Watching for a second to make sure they were all on task before walking to the door and reaching for the handle, your face a picture of surprise at seeing him here early.

"Mr Hughes is here to see you, I thought he could sit in the back or help you with the last little bit of lesson."

"Thank you, Maria I'm sure we'll figure it out." You smile warmly at Maria and it strikes him that you probably know all about her, that you've probably spent time with her at the staff Christmas party and eaten lunch together. It hits him that there are people you see every day that he has no idea about because your worlds simply don't cross that often. You know his team mates but does he really know your colleagues? He suddenly feels very out of place.

"You are early." You give him a look that makes him smile sheepishly at you, raising the bag of sandwiches as if that would solve the problem. Still you let him into your classroom, your students narrowing their eyes at the new face before promptly widening at who just walked into their classroom. Still they don't say anything, like you've taught them better, heads down as they continue writing an answer to the question on the board. A timer ticking down the remaining couple of minutes left.

He drops the bag onto your desk before you point to a spare seat at the back, "You can watch if you want...sorry, it might be boring."

"I don't think anything you could do would be boring." He knows the way he's looking at you is probably a little much for a classroom, he can't help it though. You're so pretty in your teacher clothes, there's a different sort of confidence rolling off you, you own the room and it's attractive, the way you command the room even when you're not overtly doing anything.

A quiet little murmur runs through the class at his statement, a few raised eyebrows and David lets out a little 'ohhhh' that you hush with a sharp look. Even that is hot, the fact a single look from you has a teenage boy shutting up, Quinn's rarely seen you like this, in complete and total control, effortlessly. In your pairing you're usually the one who follows while he leads. He orders your drink at a coffee shop or initiates a kiss, this is a different you.

"Go to your seat, Mr Hughes." The raised eyebrow does it for him as well and he thinks if he had to actually respond he'd have stuttered, instead he choses to follow your directions, trying desperately not to look utterly devoted to you in front of a bunch of teenagers.

He forgot how uncomfortable classroom chairs were, still he uses it as a chance to watch from the back corner. You wander the room, green pen in hand for the remaining time on the timer, writing notes on students' work and giving direction here and there. A few times you give warnings to students who haven't worked hard enough, but there's a general sense that this group of students work for you because they respect you. Even the kids who clearly aren't the most academic seem to try for you.

The timer is blaring when it goes off, some sort of lute sound that you clearly picked because it was mildly medieval and fit the vibe of your history classroom. It's ridiculous but it also describes you perfectly, those elements of quirkiness and fun that fit in even into a classroom where students write paragraphs and complete work. Like you have a balance perfectly set.

"Right, times up, so put your pens down..." You march to the front in quick time, nabbing a flashlight that one of your students was playing with at the front before they could even protest, slipping it into your pocket. It's impressive, the way you seem to have eyes on every corner of the classroom, the way you notice things that Quinn definitely would not have.

The student in question puts his hand up in the air and you call on him as if it was expected, "Yes, Rory?"

"Can I have it back at the end?"

"Yes, Rory, you can have it back at the end." It's interesting, the way that that is enough. That Rory seems to respect that it shouldn't have been out, doesn't try to argue that you shouldn't have taken it, but trusts that he'll get it back enough not to press they issue. Quinn's pretty sure Miller has argued with him more over lesser things before.

"Who can explain to me then how war has had an impact on medical development? Bonus points, potentially getting the bonus point duck for the rest of lesson, if you can give me concrete examples from our unit." He's close to putting his hand up to ask about the bonus point duck when you reach into your desk drawer and pull out a rubber duck dressed as Henry VIII.

It's in that moment that Quinn realises he does not know as much about you as he thought. He knew you. He knew the woman he called his girlfriend who couldn't sleep with her feet outside of the bed covers and absolutely had to have the shower on the highest heat setting, but he didn't know teacher you. Never in his life had you mentioned a bonus point duck, never would he have predicted that that was something you even had in your classroom and it's utterly ridiculous and shouldn't motivate a bunch of teenagers at all and yet, suddenly there were 20 hands in the air, a few calling out as if that would make you pick them quicker.

He watches the way you smile, the scan of your eyes over each, the way you bypass those not meeting your expectations until they correct themselves and then you pick a student that Quinn would likely not have picked, a student he knows his history teacher in school would have avoided.

When he thinks of picking a student to answer there are two modes he thinks of from his own high school career:

The one without their hand up, who doesn't look like their listening, the one a teacher wants to catch out

The student who is clearly a nerd, clearly good at the subject and will clearly given an impressive answer, the easy kid to pick

You pick neither. Instead, you go straight to a girl with her hand up but with thick blonde hair extensions in and enough gum in her mouth that Quinn can hear it smack from here. The stereotypical popular girl who probably doesn't care much about school and would rather be at the mall.

"Angel?"

"Well, it's like when there's a war on like World War One then all the government care about is winning the war, right?"

You nod in encouragement and it hits him that you picked Angel for a reason. That you picked a student who likely doesn't like school, likely gets discouraged but who you know can answer and get a confidence boost. It's smart, he does something similar with rookies, where he gives them a chance to do something so he can boost their confidence, can build a relationship with them. Suddenly captaincy and teaching seem awfully similar, minus the gum and the smell of Lynx Africa.

"So like if they don't improve medicine then all their soldiers just die, right? Either outright or later because of like infection like why they funded Florey and Chain to mass produce penicillin in World War Two or like why people were so into the leg splint thing in 1916. So, the governments put more money into medicine because that means soldiers live longer and can get sent back to war and then they can win the war because they still have men alive, but like if they all die you're going to lose the war, duh."

"Beautiful answer and a few specific examples in there, you have earned the duck," You smile widely at her as you walk to plop the rubber duck on her desk and he can see it, the way she seems to puff up in pride, the way a student who maybe would have hated History is engaged because of you.

He's pretty sure he just fell a little bit more in love with you.

"Yo, Miss?"

You sigh a deep sigh as if this interruption is expected, stopping mid walk back to the front of your classroom and turning on your heel, "Yes, David?" Your voice is mildly amused, not impatient or frustrated like Quinn would expect.

"Why ducks?" There's a beat of silence and Quinn watches the way you just stare at David, eyebrows high on your forehead like your considering whether you'll actually treat the question seriously or not.

Then a big smile crosses your lips like you're laughing at yourself before you even say the punch line to a joke. A silly little smile that is so his girlfriend that suddenly both versions of yourself seem to merge together.

"Because ducks fly together."

"C'mon, Miss! Really? Did you seriously just quote the Mighty Ducks when a hockey legend is in the room?" It's your patience with David that smacks Quinn in the face. You could have given him a detention by now or told him off for disrupting your lesson, but you're not. Like you're confident you can bring it back to the lesson soon enough. It makes him wonder if you'd be that patient with your kids, if he's seeing a little glimpse into a possible future where you're this patient with the kids you have with him.

"Well, maybe we should ask the 'hockey legend' what he thinks of my jokes? Mr Hughes?" You ask him because you know he'll back you up, and it's that sense of being needed that makes him sit up a little straighter in the chair he's in and smile widely like he's scored a goal.

"Hilarious as always, although maybe you need a bonus point orca?"

"Oh, do I? The duck not good enough?" There's a little glint in your eye, the one you always get when you're teasing him, playful. It feels like the rest of the world disappears, falls away, like you're the only two people in the room.

"Seems a little too Anaheim like for my taste,"

"You would say that, no taste." As if you're a Anaheim fan when you are in fact a Canucks fan through and through, but you know the statement will get a little rise out of Quinn. You can see the way his brow twitches at the suggestion that you'd pick the Ducks over the Canucks, the sense of male pride being slighted.

"Miss, stop flirting with Quinn Hughes!" It's David, it's always David. David with a wide grin that shows off his braces, David who's waggling his eyebrows at you, typical teenage boy behaviour really but it stumps you. Quinn can see that it stumps you.

There's a beat of silence, like your brain is trying to process what's just happened, and for the first time you're off your game, flustered, a little taken aback like you didn't expect it to go this far. But, then, Quinn was never in your classroom while you taught, never there for you to banter with in front of students. Quinn had proven to be a distraction, a disruptive presence if you will.

Your choice of tactic is perhaps not the best nor the most smooth, but simply to turn back to your powerpoint plastered on the board and pretend that it simply hadn't happened. To move on.

"Anyway, back to medicine," Your voice is a little unsteady, a little less controlled and Quinn feels slightly bad that he put you off your game, but admires the way you push forward.

You turn the slide on your powerpoint, an old cartoon springing up on the board, "I'm going to give you a copy of this source from 1847 about anaesthetic and I want you to analyse it like we've been practicing. If you can do this properly in 8 minutes then I will let you ask Mr Hughes some questions..." You pause briefly, looking directly at David, "Appropriate questions."

There's a bubble of excitement that sees students volunteering to help you hand out glues and copies of the source before all heads hit the desks, hands moving ferociously across the paper while 8 minutes ticks down on the clock. Just like that you've got them back on track and it is utterly impressive, how you managed to completely save a lesson that he'd accidently ruined for you.

You both survive the few minutes of questions at the end, David only asking a few minorly inappropriate ones which Quinn fields with his usual tactic of say nothing and refuse to answer. By the end he's not entirely sure how you handle being questioned all day by hundreds of teenagers and Quinn's a lot more sympathetic to your reluctance to make decisions when you get home after a long day of teaching. He gets it now.

"Have a good lunch, everybody!" You wave the last of your students off at the door, shutting it the moment they're all out and letting out a massive sigh of relief, shoulders slumping.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, just tired." The unspoken is there. That your job is hardwork, that getting kids in the modern age to focus on anything for more than 60 seconds might look easier to the outsider but takes more brainpower and more routines and techniques than you can shake a stick at.

Quinn decides to leave it for the moment, you probably don't want to spend your entire lunch break talking about teaching and he's ultimately here to see his baby, not talk about education.

"Sit, I got your favourite," He's guiding you gently, hands on your shoulders to your comfy desk chair, the one he hasn't seen you sit down in at all. You let him force you to sit down, let him sort out your sandwich placing it in front of you with a napkin and your favourite packet of crisps with your favourite drink to boot. It's a little thing but the way he sets it out in front of you, the way he takes care of you helps ease a little bit of the strain of the day.

"Thank you for coming and having lunch with me," You reach for half of your sandwich, exactly as you like it down to the type of bread used, watching as Quinn pulls one of the desks closer to you so he's not so far away. His own sandwich being pulled from the brown paper bag.

"You don't have to thank me. I wanted to see my girl, who's looking extra pretty today by the way." You almost choke on the first bite of your sandwich, cheeks warming even as you cough and roll your eyes at him. Feeling decidedly unattractive after nearly choking on bread.

"You are such a suck up!"

"Oh, so I can't compliment my girlfriend now? That's sucking up? I'm just stating facts. The sky is blue, water is clear and my girlfriend is gorgeous."

"Quinn!" You laugh at him and it's the most beautiful thing he's seen all day. The way your face lights up, eyes crinkling as you twist your head away from him because of how ridiculous you think he's being. When you laugh he can't help it, it makes him grin, teeth on show, sandwich half forgotten in front of him.

"And she can't take a compliment to save her life."

The two of you fall into a comfortable sort of routine, taking bites of your lunches while interspersing eating with conversation about his upcoming roadie and what you're going to send to your mum for her birthday.

He doesn't say anything about your teaching, doesn't even bring up the bonus point duck because he doesn't want to take up your few precious non-teacher minutes with it...and also because he's pretty certain 40 minutes is not enough time for all the things he's thinking.

How does one condense down how much they admire their partner? How does he talk briefly about how utterly amazing you are at your job and how he can't wait to marry you, to have kids with you, to see you be just as patient, just as amazing with them? He can't, so he decides to leave it til later.

He doesn't just eat lunch with you before he leaves the school though, Quinn, ever determined to make your life easier helps you tidy up your classroom and fix a display board that you couldn't reach the top corner of. You can't help but admire him as he stretches up up to staple a bit of border roll back in place, the muscles of his back flexing underneath his t-shirt, the way his hair falls effortlessly across his forehead. It's weird seeing him in this environment, your environment but you can't help but think that he fits in it, like it suits him to be helping in a classroom. Maybe in a different life he'd have been a teacher or maybe you were just waxing poetic in your head.

You walk him out to his car once your done, even though you should be using this time to plan, you can't help but try to get as many moments with him as possible, any little bit of time precious.

"I'll see you at home later?" You ask just in case he'd planned something with the team, fingers twined with Quinn's as you stand by his car.

"Yeah, I should be home already when you get in, figured i'd cook dinner tonight." He wants to make it nice for you, special, because he knows you're going to shy away from his compliments, his admiration...but he feels like he has a lot to say. Good stuff, but a lot and he wants you in a good mood, more receptive.

"Mmm, anything good?"

"Your favourite." You think about the spicy noodle dish he's perfected cooking, the little spring onions on top, the warming broth and it makes you feel almost hungry despite having just eaten lunch.

"And what did I do to deserve this treatment?" You tug him closer by the hands, tilting your head back to look up at him with a sweet smile that makes his heart race just a little bit faster. You're so pretty without even trying.

"Just being yourself, baby." Quinn breaches the distance between the two of you, leaning down to close the remaining space, lips pressing to yours gently, once, twice, a third time because he can't help himself, "Have a good rest of your day and I'll see you later, sweetheart"

Quinn presses one more kiss to your lips, a longer one that lingers, a force behind it that almost takes you off guard, your hands reaching up to grip at the edges of his jacket.

It takes you a moment to catch your breath, just long enough for Quinn to notice and smirk about it, to find it cute that he can still make you react like that.

"Bye, I love you." You force yourself to pull away, watching as he steps into the car.

"I love you too." You watch Quinn's car roll out of the school car park, wave back at him when he turns to look at you from the driver's seat before he's completely gone, before heading back instead to finish off your day.

The rest of your day goes relatively smoothly bar the incident in which a student decided to swallow a battery he had in his backpack to see what would happen, resulting in him being taken to hospital and your last class of the day being unable to focus on anything but that. Still as days go it was relatively stress free and made ten times better when you walked into the apartment to the smell of Quinn's world famous spicy noodles and the way he'd set up the dining table with some candles just to make things sweeter. The lights in the apartment dim and romantic feeling.

He's stirring the dish when you get to the kitchen area, back to you, but head turned at the sound of your feet padding towards him. You don't hesitate to wrap your arms around his waist from behind, pressing your cheek into the centre of his back. Quinn leans back into you with a hum.

"You've really gone all out, huh?" You mumble it into his shirt, moving with him as he takes the pan off the heat and carries it towards the two bowls already laid out on the side. Shuffling alongside him determined to stay close to his warmth despite how inconvenient it was.

"Wanted to surprise you, now get off me and sit your cute ass down." You do as your told, jumping a little at the light swat Quinn gives to your arse as you move away from him. You turn to glare at him as if you're offended even though you both know you'd let him slap your arse whenever he wanted if he just asked.

Quinn serves you first, placing your bowl in front of you with a glass of your favourite thing to drink at dinner before grabbing his own noodles and sitting across from you.

At first it's quiet, the two of you more focused on eating than talking, but every now and then you look up to see Quinn staring at you as if he has something he wants to say. You choose not to rush him, both of you finishing your dinner before you insist that you put the dishes in the dishwasher since he cooked. Still he doesn't say anything and you don't push him.

It's not until he drags you to the couch, pulling you to curl up next to him while some movie plays in the background that he finally speaks his mind.

"You were amazing today..." You're tucked under Quinn's arm, his hand resting on your arm as you press your cheek into his shoulder, soft eyes looking up at him from under your lashes.

"Mm? What at work?"

"Yeah." You let him think for a minute, knowing he has more to say but clearly trying to figure out how he goes about saying it, his fingers tracing light circles on your arm. "I've never seen you like that...so in your element..."

There's a pause in which he shifts, pulling your legs over his lap, other hand gripping your calf. It's the most natural movement in the world, a touch neither of you even think twice about. "The kids love you. You got kids who probably hate school to willing write paragraphs for you and...you're so, so confident in that room, baby..."

"I'm just doing my job..." You hide your face in his shirt for moment, feeling that familiar bashfulness come to the surface. You've never been good at accepting compliments, even from Quinn, and now is no exception even as his words fill you with a giddy kind of happiness.

"I know but...the way you just knew you had it, even when someone was off topic, you knew you could get it back on track, that was so fucking attractive and even the silly things, like the duck!" Your head shoots up so fast at the mention of the duck that you almost knock his chin with the top of your head, the look you give him is nothing short of confused.

"The duck is attractive?"

"Not the duck exactly, but the fact that you wanted to make History fun but also still make sure they're actually learning...and, and it was so you, y'now? So silly but endearing and...I don't know..." Quinn looks away from you, red flush high on his cheeks as he starts to regret ever saying anything, feeling mildly embarrassed about how into you he is. Which he knows is ridiculous because he should be into his girlfriend.

"You don't know? Sounds like you do, you're just embarrassed about how much you love me." You tease him, hand cupping his cheek to get him to face you again, even when he's embarrassed he can't help but lean into your touch a little more, cheek pressed fully into your palm.

"I do love you...watching you teach was like seeing our future."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I thought..." There's that hesitancy again, flush bright on his skin, lip being bitten between his teeth. It's like he's worried he'll mess up if he speaks his mind, which is ridiculous because you love him so much you're not sure anything he could say would change that.

"You can't put me off, Quinn, if you're worried about saying the wrong thing...i'm too in deep to be put off, so, you thought?"

You wait, oh so patient, while he assesses you, judges whether you're telling the truth. Like he needs to double check that you're correct when you say you're in too deep.

"I was just thinking about how you're so patient with your students and how patient you'll be with our kids, y'know?"

"Our kids?" There's a giddy little sensation of butterflies flipping in your stomach, eyes widening in delight at the mention because how many relationships have you had where your exes refused to even consider children, where they didn't want that with you?

"Well, yeah, I'm going to marry you one day." It's so matter of fact as if he'd just said he was going shopping tomorrow or had a game on Saturday. A statement of objective truth as if there was no other option, no other outcome.

"Oh, you are?"

"If you let me. If you don't? I'm never going to marry anyone." You pull back from him, just enough to look at him, mouth slightly dropped open. He's dead serious, lips pursed, brows furrowed.

"Quinn."

"I mean it. I love you, you're so fucking amazing and I...seeing you in your element today made me realise how impossible it would be for me to fall in love with anyone else, to marry anyone else, to have a family with anyone else. I don't want anyone but you."

You let out a shaky breath, smile watery but pleased, full of love and affection.

"I...I guess it's a good thing then that I want to marry you one day. Can't have you dying alone, that would be sad." You're trying to lighten the mood, but the truth is you're so deeply touched, so in love with him that you hope he means it. If he breaks up with you, you're certain it'll break you for good because you were certain he was it for you too.

"Just to be clear this isn't a proposal, you're getting a proper proposal and it will be a surprise."

"You think you're sneaky enough to keep it secret?" Your arms wrap around his neck as the two of you shift, fingers playing with the dark curls at the nape of his neck.

"I think if I want something enough, i'll get it." Quinn's voice lowers in that way that has you raising your brows, cheeks warming as smirks down at you, green eyes peering at you from underneath unfairly long lashes.

"Oh?"

"Oh." You lean back against the couch, lowering yourself flat as Quinn crawls his way over you, arms bracketing your head on the couch beneath you. You reach a hand up to cup his jaw, scruff rough against your palm, the air around you feels charged.

He's the first to move, wasting little time before lowering his lips to yours. A soft press that deepens as your arms drag him closer, fingers curling in his hair tight. You're working on instinct when Quinn's tongue swipes across your bottom lip begging for entry, opening up for him as your legs wrap around his hips.

In that moment you are so very glad that you're never going to have to know what life is like without Quinn Hughes. That you'll always get to revel in the way he presses his whole weight onto you, the way his breath wavers when he pulls back just to catch his breath before diving back into you.

Maybe you're just lucky or maybe fate intervened, but you are so fucking glad you met Quinn Hughes and so fucking glad that he decided a random History teacher was more than enough for him for the rest of his life.

#huggy bear writes #quinn hughes/reader #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes #nhl imagine #nhl x reader

283 notes · View notes

jinwoosbabyboo · 11 hours ago

Note

*whisper screams* you're writing is amazing I always look forward to your posts thank you for feeding the lads brain rot!!! Could I please request (last minute lol) the lads reacting to mc who is pretty yarn crafty but refuses to make them a sweater because of the dreaded "boyfriend sweater curse" (when knitting/crocheting, or other yarn craft, making a sweater for your boyfriend after finishing it and giving it to him he soon breaks up with you X__x)

Sweater Weather

Your man wants you to knit him a sweater, but you'd rather cut the grass with scissors before you do that because of the dreaded 'Boyfriend Sweater Curse'. Anni's Note to Anon: *whisper screams* sorry I took so long with this request I hope you forgive me here's a token of my appreciation 🌹

Zayne

Finds you hand weaving a fluffy blanket

Zayne: Will I ever have something hand knit by you?

MC: What do you want?

Zayne: How about a sweater to keep me warm in my office?

Mc: Absolutely not

Zayne: Why?

Mc: That’s a one way ticket to a messy breakup I think not

Zayne: Why would we break up?

MC: It’s the dreaded sweater curse

Zayne: The sweater? Curse?

MC: Yes ... I knit you a sweater and you leave me ... I’m not doing it

Zayne: And you believe in this so called curse wholeheartedly?

MC: If you can believe in unicorns Dr Zayne I can believe in a curse

Zayne kisses your forehead and squishes your cheeks

Zayne: alright I’ll take your word for it

Rafayel

Rafayel: When does your dashing boyfriend get a sweater?

MC: You sick of me or something?

Rafayel: Whoooaaaa how did we get here?

MC: If I knit you a sweater you’ll leave me its the sweater curse

Rafayel: I promise I won’t

MC: No

Rafayel: Please

MC: No

Rafayel: If you don’t love me just say that

MC: If you want to break up with me just say that

Rafayel: Baby please im begging

MC: Well stop!

Rafayel: PLEASE

MC: NO

Rafayel: BABYYYY

MC: SHUT UP

Rafayel played Beyonce ‘Why Don’t You Love Me’ at full volume for the rest of the day. He still didn’t get that sweater though.

Xavier

Xavier: You’re very good at knitting

MC: Thank you baby

Xavier: Did you make this?

MC: Yea it’s a cropped sweater took me a while

Xavier: Could you make me a sweater?

MC: Hell no

Xavier: Why so much aggression?

MC: If I knit you a sweater we’ll have a nasty breakup

Xavier: ???

MC: Just trust me its the sweater curse

Xavier: Okay I trust you

MC: Thank you

Xavier: What about a pair of socks?

MC: …..I’ll think about it

Sylus

Sylus: Did you knit this?

MC: Yes isn’t it cute? It’s a cropped sweater but it has that loose off the shoulder fit

Sylus: You knit sweaters?

MC: Sometimes ... they take a while

Sylus: Make me one

MC: Can I get a please?

Sylus: Please sweetie

MC: No

Sylus: I said please

MC: and I said no if I knit you a sweater you’ll break up with me

Sylus: We’re married

MC: You’ll divorce me its the dreaded sweater curse

Sylus: ......And you believe in this so called curse?

MC: Yes

Sylus: You’re adorable

MC: It’s real!

Sylus: If you say so Princess

MC: *narrows eyes* you think im crazy don't you

Sylus: At least you're self aware

MC: *throws the knitting needle at him*

165 notes · View notes

mcrdvcks · 9 hours ago

Text

i love you, always and forever ࿐‧₊ make you mine

chapter summary: With finals over, summer break starts. But of course, there are a few surprises along the way.

word count: 14.7k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: helllloooo! so this is the 'main' alternate timeline, basically just meaning the timeline that exists because logan changed the past. or in other words, the timeline where logan wakes up after stopping mystique from killing trask

i still have quite a few stories to tell about logan and reader, like how they got married, found laura, had gabby, etc. most of this series is just fluff, sometimes with some angst, but the only problems that arise don't involve any violence.

anyways, think of this as taking place sometime after who are we to fight the alchemy? (pt. 1 and 2)!

warnings/tags: reader wears glasses, fluff, summer break, mention of damp hair and hair being tied back, x-men mission, light violence, slight angst, soft!logan

series masterlist - chapter 2

Logan was like a bear—a giant, warm, cuddly bear. Though if you told him that you were sure he’d deny, deny, deny.

You let out a sleepy grunt, groggily reaching over to slap your alarm clock into silence. As the shrill beeping stopped, you became acutely aware of the warm, heavy weight wrapped securely around you. Logan’s arm was draped over your waist, holding you firmly in place against his chest. His even breaths fanned across the back of your neck, and the slight scruff of his beard grazed your skin as he shifted, pulling you impossibly closer.

“Logan,” you murmured, your voice thick with sleep as you squirmed in his grasp.

A low, disgruntled growl rumbled from his chest. “Mm-mm. Nope,” he mumbled against your shoulder, his voice rough and muffled. “Five more minutes.”

You huffed a quiet laugh, even as your cheeks warmed at the sound of his voice so close to your ear. “I have to get up,” you protested softly, trying to wriggle free. His arm tightened instinctively, making escape a futile endeavor.

“Don’t see why,” he muttered, still half-asleep. “You’re comfy right here.”

You rolled your eyes, your lips twitching into a smile despite yourself. “I have class to prep for, Logan. You know, that thing where I teach physics to a bunch of mutant teenagers?”

He grunted in response, clearly unimpressed by your logic. “Teenagers’ll survive without you for one morning,” he drawled, his lips brushing against the crook of your neck in a way that made your breath hitch. “I’m not lettin’ you go.”

You turned your head just enough to catch a glimpse of his face—eyes still closed, hair sticking up in every direction, and a faint smirk playing on his lips. The sight was almost enough to make you cave, but you managed to keep your resolve. Barely.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, even as your hand instinctively reached up to comb through his unruly hair. His grin widened at the affectionate gesture, and he cracked one eye open, peering at you with a sleepy, satisfied expression. “But today is the last day of classes, and I have to give them their final.”

Logan let out an exaggerated groan, burying his face against the curve of your neck. “You’re tellin’ me a bunch of kids and their tests are more important than me?” His voice was muffled, the low rumble of it sending a pleasant warmth through you.

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I don’t make the schedule, Logan. Believe me, if I could skip it, I would.”

“You’re not skippin’ it,” he grumbled, though his lips brushed lightly against your skin. “But don’t think I won’t complain about it the whole time you’re gone.”

“You? Complain? Shocking.” Your playful tone earned you a half-hearted growl as Logan rolled onto his back, pulling you with him. You landed on his chest, his arms securely around you. His fingers traced idle patterns along your back, his gaze fixed on you now with a mix of affection and amusement.

“You’re gonna spend the rest of the day buried in grading,” he said, arching a brow. “And I won’t see you for days. Don’t think I didn’t notice what happened after midterms.”

Your face warmed at the memory of being holed up in your office, surrounded by papers, but you tilted your chin stubbornly. “I have to grade, Logan. How else will they know whether they pass?”

“Sounds like a them problem,” he countered smoothly, his smirk deepening.

“Logan.” You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. He always had a way of making you feel light, even when you were stressed. “You could help me grade, you know. I’ll even teach you how to curve a test.”

His laugh was deep and genuine, rumbling through his chest beneath you. “Pretty sure that’d end with me givin’ everyone a pass just so I could get you back quicker.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but he silenced you with a kiss. It was soft and unhurried, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head as he tilted his own. By the time he pulled back, your thoughts had scattered, and he looked thoroughly pleased with himself.

“Fine,” you muttered, still breathless. “But I’m locking my office door when I’m grading.”

His grin widened. “Good. I’ll just pick the lock.”

“Logan!”

He chuckled, flipping you gently onto your back and leaning down to press another kiss to your forehead. “Alright, darlin’. Go teach your kids or whatever. But I’m holding you to dinner tonight. No papers allowed.”

You smiled up at him, your hand brushing lightly against his jawline. “Deal.”

Logan lingered a moment longer, his eyes tracing your face as though memorizing every detail. Then, with a sigh, he pushed himself up, reluctantly letting you go. “Go on, then, before I change my mind and keep you here.”

You bit back a laugh, slipping out of bed and grabbing your glasses from the nightstand. As you moved to get ready, you could feel his eyes on you, his presence a steady warmth in the background.

---

“Why are you in my office?” Jean asked, walking into the room where you sat on the couch in the corner.

“Close the door, Jean!” You whisper-yelled. Jean raised an eyebrow but complied as you spoke again, “Logan’s clingy, he says that since classes are over for the summer I should be ‘spending time with him’ even though I told him I still have the finals to grade.”

Jean closed the door, her curiosity evident as she leaned against it, arms crossed. “You’re hiding in my office to avoid Logan?”

You sighed, setting aside the stack of papers you were grading on Jean’s coffee table. “It’s not like I’m avoiding him forever. I just need a few hours to finish these finals without him finding me and pulling me into another impromptu cuddle session.”

Jean smirked, clearly entertained. “He’s got a point, though. Classes are over. Most people would kill to have their boyfriend be that invested in spending time with them.”

You rolled your eyes, even as a smile tugged at your lips. “I know. And it’s sweet, really. But he doesn’t understand that I can’t just wave a wand and make the grades magically appear. These finals aren’t going to grade themselves.”

Jean quirked a brow. “And you thought my office was the safest place to hide?”

“Well, yeah.” You gestured around. “Logan wouldn’t think to look for me here. Plus, I didn’t think you’d mind.”

“I don’t mind,” Jean replied, amused. “But you know he’s going to find you eventually. He has an uncanny ability to know exactly where you are.”

You slumped back against the couch, groaning softly. “Don’t remind me. It’s like he has a sixth sense or something.”

Jean chuckled, walking over and plopping into the chair across from you. “It’s called being ridiculously in love with you. That man’s not exactly subtle.”

The words made your face heat up, but you tried to brush it off. “Yeah, well, ridiculously in love or not, he needs to let me work for a bit. I’ll make it up to him later.”

Jean’s smirk turned mischievous. “Oh, I’m sure you will. Candlelit dinner? Maybe a movie night?”

“Jean!” you hissed, your cheeks burning as you tried to shush her. “Don’t you start too.”

She held up her hands, mock-innocent. “I’m just saying, it’s adorable how smitten he is. Honestly, I think it’s good for you. You’re not usually the type to take much downtime.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, the door creaked open just enough for Logan’s unmistakable voice to drift in.

“Jean, you seen—”

Logan froze in the doorway, his brows lifting slightly when he saw you sitting there. His gaze flicked to Jean, who was already biting back a grin, and then back to you.

“Found you,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he was trying not to smirk.

You sank further into the couch, your face heating under his knowing stare. “I was… grading,” you said lamely, gesturing to the papers in front of you.

Logan stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind him. His eyes stayed on you, warm and amused. “In Jean’s office?”

“It was a strategic decision,” Jean quipped before you could answer, her tone dripping with mock seriousness.

Logan ignored her, his attention fixed solely on you. He crossed the room, crouching down in front of you so you were at eye level. His hand came to rest lightly on your knee, the warmth of his touch grounding you despite your embarrassment.

“You could’ve just told me you needed time to work, darlin’,” he said softly, his voice carrying no trace of irritation—just quiet understanding.

“I did,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze. “You didn’t exactly listen.”

His lips quirked, and he leaned in slightly, his forehead nearly brushing yours. “Maybe ‘cause I’m selfish and like havin’ you around too much.”

Your resolve wavered as you finally looked at him, his eyes impossibly soft. Jean, sensing she was no longer needed, stood and slipped out of the room without a word, leaving the two of you alone.

“Logan,” you sighed, your voice quieter now. “I just… I really need to finish these finals. I promise, as soon as I’m done, I’m all yours.”

Logan studied you for a moment, then nodded, his hand squeezing your knee lightly. “Alright,” he said, standing up. “But I’m takin’ you to dinner tonight. Non-negotiable.”

You smiled, the weight of his gaze melting some of your earlier frustration. “Deal.”

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead before straightening. “I’ll leave you to it, then. But don’t think I’m not gonna check in later.”

You rolled your eyes, but your grin lingered as he turned and left the room, his presence somehow leaving it warmer than before.

---

Theresa stood by you on her tiptoes, eagerly watching as you carefully sliced her apple. She hummed happily, her curly red hair bouncing with every small fidget of excitement. You smiled softly at her, taking your time to arrange the slices neatly on the plate. The summer sun streamed through the kitchen window, making the air feel lighter now that the semester was officially over.

You were dressed comfortably for the warm day, the floral sundress swaying slightly as you shifted your weight. Logan had gone off to check on something outside earlier, so the mansion was unusually quiet.

Logan passed the kitchen door without sparing it a glance, only to stop mid-step and double back. His figure filled the doorway as he leaned casually against the frame, his arms crossed, eyes locking onto you immediately.

He didn’t say anything at first, just stared, his expression caught somewhere between surprise and something softer. His gaze flickered over you briefly, but it was the kind of look that left you feeling as though he’d memorized every detail in a single second. His brows raised slightly, and the corners of his mouth pulled into the faintest hint of a smile.

You glanced up at him mid-slice, caught completely unaware. “What?” you asked, confused by the way his stare lingered.

Theresa, oblivious to the subtle tension, tugged lightly on your wrist. “Is it ready yet, Y/N? Can I have it now?”

“Almost,” you murmured, distracted as you finished the last cut. You placed the slices neatly onto the plate, handing it to her with a small smile. “Here you go, Tessie. Go eat at the table, alright?”

“Thanks!” she chirped before skipping off, her plate held triumphantly in both hands.

The kitchen was quiet again, save for the soft hum of the fridge. You turned back to find Logan still standing there, his smirk more pronounced now.

“What is it?” you asked, feeling a little self-conscious under his scrutiny.

“Nothin’,” he said, pushing off the doorframe to step closer. His voice was casual, but his eyes betrayed the warmth he was holding back. “Just… you look nice.”

Your cheeks heated immediately, and you glanced away, focusing on tidying up the cutting board. “It’s just a dress,” you mumbled.

“First time I’ve seen you wear one,” he replied, his voice quieter now as he leaned against the counter beside you. His knuckles brushed lightly against yours, and the gesture, as small as it was, sent your pulse skittering.

“I usually don’t,” you admitted, avoiding his gaze. “It’s not really practical, you know. With teaching, and the lab, and—”

“Practical or not, I like it,” he interrupted, his tone genuine. “Suits you.”

You risked a glance up at him, your eyes meeting his. He wasn’t smirking anymore. Instead, his expression was unguarded, softer than you were used to seeing. That look—the one where he seemed to see you and only you—made your heart twist in your chest.

“Thanks,” you said softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Logan reached out, his fingers brushing the side of your arm lightly. “No need to hide when you’re wearin’ something nice, darlin’,” he murmured. “Don’t need to hide, period.”

“I wasn’t hiding,” you argued weakly, your voice betraying you with its timid edge.

He huffed a quiet laugh, his thumb grazing your forearm. “Sure you weren’t.”

“I wasn’t!” you protested, though your voice lacked conviction. His touch was making your thoughts spiral into incoherence.

“Okay, okay,” he said, his grin returning. “But you’ll wear it again sometime, yeah?”

You bit your lip, nodding slightly before looking away again. “Maybe.”

“Good,” he replied, his voice low and warm. “Because you’re stuck with me the rest of the day, anyway.”

“Logan,” you started, your shyness creeping back. “I—”

“No excuses,” he said firmly but without any harshness. “You’re done grading. It’s summer break. No runnin’ off to Jean’s office this time.”

Your face heated at the memory of that little escapade. “You’re not going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Not a chance,” he said, his grin widening. “Now c’mon. Let’s go for a walk or somethin’. You’ve been cooped up too long.”

He offered you his hand, and after a moment of hesitation, you took it. His grip was strong and steady, a quiet reassurance that you weren’t sure you’d ever stop craving.

As the two of you walked out into the summer sun, you couldn’t help but glance down at your dress, a small, shy smile tugging at your lips. Maybe dresses weren’t so impractical after all.

---

The kids’ laughter echoed over the beach, blending with the rhythmic crash of the waves against the shore. A soft breeze ruffled the umbrella shading you and Jean as you sat in matching beach chairs. The air smelled faintly of salt and sunscreen, the summer sun bright but not unbearable.

You had been staring at the same page of Maisie Dobbs for what had to be ten minutes, the words nothing more than a blur. Jean, seated beside you with her own book, glanced at you over the rim of Evidence of Things Unseen. Her lips twitched as she noticed the way your gaze had drifted—away from your book, away from the umbrella’s shade, and unmistakably toward the figure near the shoreline.

Logan stood knee-deep in the water, his jeans rolled up and his shirt conspicuously absent. He hadn’t bothered to wear anything particularly ‘beachy,’ but it didn’t seem to matter. The sun kissed his skin, highlighting the lines of muscle across his chest and arms, and his usual gruff expression softened as he helped some of the kids with their sandcastle defenses. His low chuckle carried faintly on the wind as he spoke to Bobby, who was excitedly gesturing at a moat that, from your vantage point, looked like it was doomed to fail against the incoming tide.

Jean smirked, closing her book deliberately. “You know, for someone with a PhD, you’re doing a terrible job pretending to read.”

Your head snapped back to your book, the sudden motion almost dislodging your glasses. “I’m reading!”

Jean arched an unimpressed brow, her tone teasing. “Oh? What’s happening in the book?”

You scrambled, trying to recall the last thing you’d actually processed. “Uh... Maisie just—she was, um—”

Jean’s laughter was soft but pointed. “Uh-huh. That’s what I thought.” She leaned closer, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “You know, it’s not like he’s never been shirtless before. You do live in the same mansion.”

Your cheeks burned, and you pushed your glasses up the bridge of your nose as if that would help hide your embarrassment. “It’s different,” you muttered, keeping your gaze firmly planted on your book now.

Jean grinned. “Different how?”

You hesitated, unwilling to put into words what felt so obvious. How the sight of him here, carefree and laughing with the kids, hit differently than the times you’d seen him shirtless before—training in the Danger Room, patching himself up after a mission, or even just wandering the halls in the early hours of the morning. Here, on this beach, Logan seemed... lighter.

“It just is,” you said finally, your voice quiet but insistent.

Jean shook her head, her grin widening. “You’re hopeless. But hey, at least now you’re not the only one distracted.”

Before you could process her words, a shadow fell over you. You glanced up to find Logan standing there, shirt slung over his shoulder and a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

“Enjoying the view?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.

Your face flushed so hot you were sure it rivaled the sun. “I—I wasn’t—”

Jean, ever the opportunist, cut in before you could flounder any further. “She was definitely enjoying it.”

You shot her a mortified glare, but she just winked, clearly pleased with herself. Logan chuckled, the sound rumbling low in his chest as he crouched beside your chair. His hand came to rest lightly on the armrest, his proximity making your heart race.

“I thought I’d find you buried in a book,” he murmured, his tone teasing but warm. “Didn’t realize you’d be out here gettin’ a tan instead.”

“I’m not—” You floundered again, words failing you under the weight of his gaze.

“She’s been staring at you for the last ten minutes,” Jean added helpfully, earning her a sharp, wordless plea from you.

Logan’s smirk deepened, his attention unwavering as he tilted his head slightly. “That right?”

You wanted the earth to swallow you whole, but instead, you mustered up a weak protest. “Jean’s exaggerating.”

“I’m really not,” Jean chimed in.

“Alright, that’s enough outta you,” Logan said, though his amusement was evident.

Jean chuckled, standing and stretching dramatically. “I’ll leave you two to... whatever this is.” She shot you one last mischievous look before strolling off toward Scott, who was supervising the soccer game.

Once she was gone, Logan shifted, leaning closer. His fingers brushed lightly against your wrist where your hand rested on the book, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered, darlin’,” he said, his voice a low murmur.

“I wasn’t flustered,” you lied, your gaze dropping to the book again.

“Uh-huh,” he drawled, unconvinced. His thumb traced an idle circle on your wrist. “You’re a terrible liar.”

You finally risked a glance up at him, and the intensity in his gaze made your breath hitch. There was no teasing smirk now, just a quiet warmth that left you feeling as if the rest of the beach had faded away.

“Logan,” you started, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?” he prompted, his tone gentler now.

You hesitated, then shook your head, a small, shy smile tugging at your lips. “Never mind.”

He huffed a soft laugh, leaning in just enough to press a kiss to your forehead. “C’mon,” he said as he straightened, offering you his hand. “Let’s go walk by the water. You’ve been sittin’ here too long.”

You glanced at his hand, then back at him, your shyness warring with the warmth spreading through your chest. Finally, you slipped your hand into his, letting him pull you to your feet.

As the two of you strolled toward the shoreline, the kids’ laughter filling the air around you, you couldn’t help but think that Jean had been right. Distracted or not, Logan was a sight worth lingering on.

---

“You have got to get better at working with a team,” Ororo said.

Scott nodded in agreement, “you can’t just go off on your own and do whatever you want just because you can.”

They entered the viewing deck as Logan playfully scoffed, “I can work on a team. Just depends who I am working with. Isn’t that right, darlin’?”

You continued to look at the screens around you, letting out a noncommittal hum. “Yeah, sure.”

Logan chuckled under his breath, his tone dripping with amusement. “See? Told ya.” He leaned casually against the console, arms crossed as he glanced at you.

Scott pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “That’s not exactly what I’d call an endorsement.”

“Maybe not by your standards, Slim, but I’ll take what I can get,” Logan shot back with a lopsided grin.

Ororo let out a long-suffering sigh. “Logan, this isn’t a joke. You can’t keep running off and doing your own thing in the field. It puts everyone at risk.”

He shrugged, unbothered. “I get the job done.” His eyes flicked to you again, a faint spark of amusement lingering there. “Besides, I work just fine with the right people.”

Ororo didn’t dignify that with a response, her gaze narrowing. “You’re impossible.”

Scott gestured toward the holographic screens. “What’s the scores?” he asked, clearly trying to redirect the conversation to something productive.

You adjusted your glasses, your fingers moving across the controls as you pulled up the relevant data. “The team as a whole got an 84.75%,” you said, glancing at the screen and making a few adjustments to bring up individual scores. “Individually… well, it’s a mixed bag.”

Logan smirked, leaning closer. “Let me guess. I carried the team.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “Logan, you were the reason we lost points in the first place.”

“Details, details,” Logan said with a shrug. He glanced at you. “What’d I get, sweetheart?”

You tapped a few keys, pulling up his stats. “Well… I mean individual scores don’t really matter much do they? It’s all about—”

Jean chuckled and crossed her arms, interrupting you, “oh, I know what that means. You’re stalling.”

Your cheeks warmed as you adjusted your glasses, fumbling slightly with the console. “I’m not stalling. I’m just—being thorough.”

Logan tilted his head, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s hear it. I know I aced it.”

Ororo raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Logan, you left your assigned post twice and ignored team strategy. I wouldn’t get my hopes up.”

Jean chimed in with a smirk. “Not to mention, you destroyed half the simulated building—after the objective was completed.”

Logan’s grin didn’t falter. He leaned closer to you, his voice low and teasing. “They just don’t appreciate my style, do they?”

You bit back a small smile, keeping your gaze fixed on the screen. “Okay, fine. You got… a 62.”

Scott made an incredulous noise, crossing his arms. “See? That’s exactly what we’re talking about.”

Logan shrugged, completely unfazed. “Still passed. A win’s a win.”

“It’s barely passing,” Scott countered, clearly losing patience. “And that’s only because of your combat performance. Your teamwork score was—what? Ten points?”

“Seventeen,” you corrected, your tone soft but pointed. “Which isn’t… great.”

Ororo pinched the bridge of her nose, clearly exasperated. “Logan, the whole point of these exercises is to improve coordination and teamwork, not just show off.”

“Hey, if they want me to play nice, they should stop slowing me down,” Logan replied, his casual tone earning a groan from Scott.

“Logan,” you said, trying to balance your shy nature with the need to contribute. “I think what they’re saying is… you’re great on your own, but in a real mission, working together is—kind of important.”

His gaze softened as he looked at you, the teasing edge fading slightly. “Noted, sweetheart. I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

Jean exchanged a quick glance with Ororo, who simply shook her head. “We’ll see,” Ororo muttered, clearly skeptical.

Scott stepped forward, pointing to the screen. “And what about the rest of the team?”

You quickly pulled up the individual stats for everyone else, rattling off the scores. “Jean’s at 90, Ororo’s 92, and Scott—you’ve got a 95.”

Logan gave a low whistle, mock-impressed. “Look at you, Slim. Setting the curve.”

“Someone has to,” Scott replied dryly, but his tone lacked its usual sharpness. He turned back to you. “Good work, Y/N. At least someone here knows how to focus.”

Jean grinned. “She’s always focused. Unlike some people,” she said pointedly, glancing at Logan.

Logan smirked, unbothered as he straightened up. “Guess I’ll just have to make up for it next time.”

Scott opened his mouth to argue, but Ororo cut him off. “Let’s just take the feedback and move on. We’ll schedule another session next week.”

As the group began to disperse, Logan lingered by your side, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “You’re too nice to me, sweetheart.”

You hesitated, the faintest smile tugging at your lips. “Someone has to be.”

Logan smirked at your response, but before he could say anything else, he slid an arm around your shoulders, his touch uncharacteristically gentle as he guided you toward the exit. “C’mon, darlin’. Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

You stiffened slightly, your hand coming up to his chest as you gently pushed him away. “Logan—seriously?”

He raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “What? Afraid someone’s gonna think we’re cozy or somethin’?”

“No,” you said firmly, stepping out of his reach. “I’m afraid of the fact that you’re sweaty and gross. I’m not getting anywhere near you until you shower.”

Logan laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that earned a chuckle from Jean and a loud groan from Scott. “Sweetheart, I’ve been through worse. Little sweat never killed anyone.”

“Maybe not,” you said, adjusting your glasses and flashing a rare smirk. “But it’s definitely killed my willingness to put up with you right now.”

Jean leaned casually against the doorway, her arms crossed as she watched the exchange. “She’s got a point, Logan. You’re a walking hazard zone.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Logan muttered, waving a dismissive hand. He threw one last glance at you before heading toward the door. “Fine. I’ll clean up. But don’t think this is over, sweetheart.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you replied dryly, turning back to the console to shut everything down.

---

The next week, as you were setting up the console for the simulation, Scott and Kitty came walking down the viewing deck hallway. “Come on,” Scott said, “you’re joining us this time. Kitty’ll take care of this.”

You raised your head from the screens and looked over at Scott, tilting your head. “You sure? I’m not exactly much help in the field.”

Scott crossed his arms, giving you a look that said he wasn’t buying your self-doubt. “You’re more capable than you think, Y/N. And we’re not giving you a choice this time. Kitty’s handling the tech, so suit up.”

You hesitated, glancing at Kitty, who gave you a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this,” she said, sliding into the chair you vacated. “Besides, it’ll be good for you. Logan’s always saying you need to get out of the lab more.”

“Does he now?” you murmured, adjusting your glasses. A small, nervous smile tugged at your lips as you looked back at Scott. “Okay, but only if you promise not to get annoyed if I mess up.”

Scott’s expression softened, and he nodded. “You won’t mess up. Just stick to the plan, and you’ll be fine.”

As the three of you headed down the hallway toward the locker rooms, Logan was leaning casually against the wall just outside, his arms crossed. His signature smirk appeared the second he saw you. “What’s this? Slim finally letting you outta your cage?”

You rolled your eyes, already feeling a little self-conscious. “It’s not like that, Logan.”

“Sure it’s not,” he drawled, falling into step beside you. “Guess this means I’ll have to keep an extra close eye on you, darlin’. Wouldn’t want you gettin’ hurt.”

“Or distracting anyone else,” Scott muttered under his breath.

Logan shot him a look, but you quickly intervened, your tone light but firm. “I’ll be fine. You don’t have to babysit me.”

Logan chuckled. “You say that now, but wait till the action starts.” He gave you a wink before heading off toward the men’s locker room.

Scott let out a long-suffering sigh. “Just… try not to encourage him.”

“I didn’t say anything!” you protested, your cheeks flushing.

“Yeah, but you smiled,” Scott replied, shaking his head as he disappeared into the locker room.

---

In the simulation room, the team gathered near the starting point. The scenario was a hostage rescue in a collapsing skyscraper, and Scott was already running through the plan with his usual precision. “Ororo and Jean will handle structural stabilization while Logan and I take point on the hostiles. Y/N, you’ll be with Logan.”

Logan’s smirk widened. “Figures. Slim knows who the real MVP is.”

Scott ignored him, turning his attention to you. “Your job is to focus on time manipulation to give us an edge. Slow things down where necessary, especially if Logan decides to... improvise.”

Jean coughed lightly, barely disguising a laugh. “You mean when Logan improvises.”

“Whatever works,” Logan said with a shrug. He glanced at you, his expression softening slightly. “You ready for this, sweetheart?”

You nodded, though the nerves were clear in your posture. “Yeah. I think so.”

Logan leaned in just enough to lower his voice. “Hey. You’ve got this. Just stick with me.”

You managed a small smile, adjusting your gloves. “Thanks.”

---

As the simulation began, chaos erupted almost immediately. Logan, true to form, charged ahead with reckless abandon, his claws slicing through holographic enemies like they were nothing. You stayed close, using your powers to slow time in bursts, giving him an edge whenever he veered too far from the plan.

“Logan, stick to your quadrant!” Scott’s voice barked over the comms.

“I’m stickin’ to it!” Logan shot back, even as he lunged into an adjacent zone. “Just takin’ the scenic route.”

“Scenic route?” you muttered, struggling to keep up with him. “You’re all over the place!”

Logan flashed you a grin over his shoulder. “That’s why you’re here, sweetheart. Keepin’ me in check.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, but a part of you felt a flicker of pride. Despite his chaotic style, he trusted you to have his back.

As the simulation progressed, you found yourself falling into a rhythm with him. Whenever he rushed headfirst into a dangerous situation, you instinctively slowed time to give him the upper hand. He, in turn, would glance back to make sure you were safe, his protective instincts as sharp as his claws.

When the final wave of enemies fell and the simulation ended, Scott called the team to regroup. “Not bad,” he said, though his tone suggested he had plenty of notes. “We’ll review the footage and—”

“Hold up,” Logan interrupted, glancing at you. “How’d she do?”

Scott blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Y/N? She did well. Kept up with you, which is more than I can say for most people.”

Logan’s smirk returned. “Told ya she’s got it.”

You adjusted your glasses, your cheeks warming as Jean gave you an approving smile. “She definitely held her own. Maybe we should bring her along more often.”

Scott nodded reluctantly. “We’ll see. For now, let’s debrief.”

As the group started toward the viewing deck, Logan slowed his pace to walk beside you. He bumped your shoulder lightly, a rare softness in his tone. “Proud of you, darlin’. Told ya you’d do great.”

You glanced at him, a small smile breaking through your shyness. “Thanks. But I think we both know you’re the reason Scott’s hair is going to turn gray early.”

Logan laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Worth it.”

---

You let out a quiet groan in your sleep, twisting the thin sheet that barely covered you. The summer heat was relentless, and your room, like most of the older parts of the mansion, didn’t have air conditioning. Adding to your discomfort was Logan, who radiated heat like a furnace. Despite the oppressive warmth, his arm was slung lazily around your waist, anchoring you close.

Shifting slightly, you tried to peel yourself away without waking him, but his grip tightened instinctively. “Where d’you think you’re goin’, sweetheart?” Logan’s voice was rough with sleep, his words barely above a murmur.

“It’s too hot,” you whispered back, your voice tinged with a mix of fondness and exasperation. “You’re like a space heater.”

Logan let out a low chuckle, his breath warm against your neck. “Can’t help it. Comes with the claws and all.”

“You mean being insufferable comes with the claws?” you teased softly, attempting to squirm out from under his arm again.

He growled playfully, pulling you closer instead. “Watch it, darlin’. You’re startin’ to sound a lot like Slim.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at your lips. “I mean it, Logan. I’m going to melt.”

Logan loosened his hold slightly, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at you. His hair was a mess, sticking up in every direction, and the faintest hint of a smirk played on his lips. “Guess I’ll have to cool you off, then.”

“Don’t even—” you started, but before you could finish, Logan leaned down and kissed you. The kiss was slow, deliberate, and entirely unfair in its ability to make you forget the heat. When he finally pulled back, his grin was infuriatingly smug.

“Still too hot?” he asked, his tone dripping with amusement.

You huffed, pushing his chest lightly. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but you love me anyway,” he replied, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. His hand lingered, his thumb tracing the edge of your cheekbone.

Your cheeks warmed, though you blamed it on the heat. “I guess I do.”

Logan chuckled, the sound low and genuine, before he flopped back onto his pillow. “Go back to sleep, darlin’. I’ll try not to roast you alive.”

“Gee, thanks,” you muttered, though there was no real bite to your words. Settling back against him despite the heat, you allowed yourself to relax, his steady presence oddly comforting.

As you drifted off, Logan pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Night, sweetheart.”

---

You could bake and cook, but apparently, your skills weren’t exactly pro level. You huffed as you pulled out the pan of macaron shells, all of which were deflated, cracked, or just… sad. The vision of glossy, perfectly round macarons you'd had in your head? Nowhere to be found.

Logan, who had been lounging at the kitchen table flipping through a newspaper, looked up as you groaned in frustration. “What’s the problem, sweetheart?”

You held up the tray of macaron disasters like a defeated warrior displaying a broken weapon. “This is the problem. They’re supposed to be pretty and fluffy, not—whatever this is.” You gestured to the cracked, flat mess.

He squinted at them, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I don’t see the problem. They’re just cookies, right? Still edible.”

“They’re macarons, not cookies. They’re supposed to be delicate, with perfect little feet and smooth tops. This is a disaster,” you said dramatically, setting the tray down with a sigh.

Logan snorted, setting the newspaper aside. “Darlin’, you’re makin’ a big fuss over somethin’ that’s just gonna get eaten. I mean, they look fine to me.”

You gave him an incredulous look. “Fine? They look like they’ve been through a war.”

“Then they’ve got character,” he said, standing and walking over to you. He plucked one off the tray and popped it into his mouth before you could stop him.

“Logan!” you protested. “They’re not ready yet, and they probably taste—”

He raised a hand to silence you, chewing thoughtfully. “Huh. Not bad,” he said with a shrug. “Tastes like sugar.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, though you couldn’t help the slight twitch of a smile on your lips. “That’s because it’s basically just sugar and almond flour. But they’re not supposed to just taste good; they’re supposed to look good too.”

Logan leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching you fuss over the tray. “Seems like a waste of energy, worryin’ about somethin’ like that. Long as they taste good, who cares?”

“You don’t understand,” you said, shaking your head. “This was supposed to be impressive! Like, ‘look, everyone, I can make professional-grade macarons!’ impressive. Not, ‘here, enjoy these sad, sugary pancakes.’”

He laughed at that, the sound low and warm, and you glared at him halfheartedly. “I’m glad my baking failure amuses you.”

"Y/N, I’m serious. They’re fine. Hell, I bet they taste better than anything anyone else around here could make.”

Logan’s hands found your waist, and before you could protest, he effortlessly lifted you onto the counter. A surprised yelp escaped your lips as you steadied yourself, your hands instinctively gripping his shoulders.

“Logan!” You glared at him, though your annoyance was quickly melting under the warmth of his amused grin.

“What?” he asked innocently, leaning one hand on the counter next to you while his other stayed resting lightly on your knee. “Figured this was a good place for a pep talk. Y’know, eye level and all that.”

You shook your head, exasperated but unable to hold back a smile. “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe,” he said with a small shrug, his smirk softening as he looked at you. “But you’re sittin’ here beatin’ yourself up over somethin’ stupid when you’ve got no reason to.”

“They’re not stupid, Logan. They’re macarons,” you insisted, crossing your arms in mock defiance.

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, as he stepped closer. “Y/N, you’re sweatin’ the small stuff. You could burn dinner, and everyone’d still eat it without complainin’—myself included. But these? They’re fine. And you wanna know why?”

“Why?” you asked warily, narrowing your eyes at him.

“’Cause you made ’em,” Logan said simply, his voice quieter now. “You put in the work, and that means somethin’. Might not be perfect, but hell, nothin’ ever is.”

The sincerity in his tone made your cheeks flush. You tried to look away, but his hand was already reaching up to brush a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“You’re too nice to me,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Not nice,” he said with a smirk. “Just honest.”

Before you could come up with a witty response, Logan leaned in, his lips brushing yours softly. His kiss was unhurried, filled with the same steady warmth that he always seemed to carry. You melted into it, forgetting for a moment about the tray of failed macarons still sitting on the counter.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested gently against yours, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “Still feelin’ like a failure?”

You bit your lip, trying not to smile. “Maybe a little.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Guess I’ll just have to keep convincin’ you.”

“Logan,” you started, but he didn’t give you a chance to finish. In one swift motion, he scooped you up and threw you over his shoulder.

A startled laugh bubbled out of you as you smacked his back lightly. “Logan! Put me down!”

“Not a chance, darlin’,” he said, his tone filled with teasing amusement as he strode toward the door. “You need some fresh air. Maybe if I walk you around a bit, you’ll quit stressin’ over those sugar pancakes.”

“They’re macarons!” you corrected, your laughter echoing through the hallway as he carried you out of the kitchen.

“Whatever they are, they’re fine,” Logan said firmly, his hand resting against the back of your thigh to steady you. “And you’re gonna see that—after I get you outta this mansion for a bit.”

You let out a resigned sigh, though the smile on your face betrayed any attempt at irritation. “Fine. But you’re carrying me back if I don’t feel better.”

“Deal,” he replied, his grin widening as he turned the corner, earning a few amused glances from passing students.

As you hung over his shoulder, your heart felt lighter. Maybe your macarons weren’t perfect, but with Logan by your side, it hardly seemed to matter.

---

You walked out of the bathroom, towel-drying your damp hair as you adjusted the straps of your light blue silk nightgown. It was new—something you had picked up during a recent mall trip with Jean and some of the kids. You weren’t entirely sure what had possessed you to buy it, but Jean had insisted it was ‘perfect’ for summer, and you figured she was probably right. Now, as the smooth fabric clung lightly to your skin, you found yourself feeling just a little self-conscious.

Logan was sprawled on the bed, one leg hanging off the edge, his back propped against the headboard. A notebook was in his hand, and his brow furrowed slightly in concentration as he sketched something on the page. His expression was uncharacteristically relaxed, a rare sight that made your heart clench.

He looked up as you stepped into the room, his gaze lingering for a beat longer than usual. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and warm. His eyes flicked over you briefly, and though he didn’t comment, the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Hey,” you replied softly, padding over to the bed and sitting on the edge near him. You glanced curiously at the notebook in his hand. “What are you working on?”

Logan tilted the book slightly, as if debating whether to show you. “Nothin’ much. Just passin’ the time.”

Your curiosity deepened as you caught a glimpse of pencil strokes and shading. “Can I see?” you asked, tilting your head.

He hesitated for a moment before shrugging. “Yeah, sure.” He shifted to sit up straighter, his arm brushing yours as he handed you the notebook. “Don’t laugh.”

“Why would I laugh?” you asked, smiling softly as you took the notebook. Logan adjusted his position, his hands resting lightly on your waist as he guided you onto his lap, the warmth of him seeping through the thin fabric of your nightgown. Your back pressed against his chest as you settled in, the notebook resting on your knees.

The first drawing you saw took your breath away. It was a detailed sketch of the mansion’s garden, the shading capturing the way the sunlight filtered through the trees. The perspective was flawless, each flower and blade of grass rendered with care. “Logan, this is amazing,” you murmured, your fingers lightly tracing the edges of the page.

He huffed a quiet laugh against your shoulder. “Didn’t peg me for an artist, huh?”

“I didn’t know you could draw like this,” you admitted, flipping to the next page. This one was a portrait—a student from the mansion, laughing mid-conversation. It was so vivid you almost expected the image to move.

Logan’s hands tightened slightly on your waist as you turned the pages, each one revealing another sketch: Ororo standing by the lake, Jean mid-training, even Scott adjusting his visor. And then you stopped. The next drawing was of you.

It wasn’t posed or polished like the others. It was you caught in an unguarded moment, sitting cross-legged on the mansion steps with a book in your lap. Your hair was loosely tied back, and your glasses perched on the bridge of your nose as you absentmindedly twirled a pen in your fingers. Logan had captured every detail, right down to the faint curve of your lips.

You blinked, unsure what to say, the heat rushing to your cheeks. “You—this is me.”

“Yeah,” Logan said simply, his voice quieter now. “Figured you’d catch on.”

You turned to glance at him, your breath hitching at the way his eyes softened as they met yours. “It’s… beautiful,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan smirked, but there was something tender in his expression. “Guess I got the subject right, then.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you turned back to the sketch, feeling his chin rest lightly on your shoulder. As you flipped through the remaining pages, you caught more glimpses of yourself—small moments you didn’t even realize he’d noticed. Sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea, laughing at something off-camera, standing by the window as the morning light spilled in. Each one was intimate, raw, and filled with a kind of reverence that left you speechless.

As you paused on another drawing, the strap of your nightgown slipped down your shoulder. Logan’s hand moved almost instinctively, his fingers brushing your skin as he gently slid the strap back into place. The touch was so casual, so natural, that it barely registered—but the warmth lingered.

“Didn’t mean to embarrass you,” Logan said softly, his voice low against your ear.

“You didn’t,” you replied, though your cheeks betrayed you. “I just didn’t realize you… paid attention like this.”

“’Course I do,” he said, his tone gruff but sincere. “You’re worth payin’ attention to, darlin’.”

The weight of his words settled over you, and you leaned back against him, letting the quiet reassurance of his presence wash over you. “Thank you,” you said softly, your fingers brushing the edge of the notebook. “For this. For… seeing me.”

Logan pressed a kiss to your temple, his stubble grazing your skin. “Always.”

---

The room hummed with quiet tension as the group gathered in the briefing room. Scott stood at the head of the table, his sharp, no-nonsense demeanor firmly in place as he laid out the mission details. Jean sat beside him, her fingers laced neatly in her lap, while Ororo leaned back in her chair with an air of calm focus. Bobby and Kitty exchanged a few quiet words, their confidence steady despite the high stakes.

Logan sat beside you, his hand resting casually on your thigh under the table. To the others, it probably looked like a typical display of Logan's relaxed attitude—or as relaxed as he ever got. To you, it was anything but casual. His fingers were warm and slightly calloused, a steady presence that grounded you as Scott’s voice went on about tactical points and contingency plans.

“We’re infiltrating a research facility,” Scott said, gesturing to the holographic map projected above the table. “The main goal is retrieving this.” He tapped a button, and the image shifted to a glowing USB drive. “It’s encrypted with data on mutant experiments. We need it to understand what they’re planning. The defenses will be heavy, and we’ll have limited time.”

Scott turned his gaze toward you, and your stomach flipped. “You’ll be in charge of getting the drive. The rest of us will keep the guards distracted. Once you have it, get to the Blackbird as quickly as possible. No detours, no delays. Understood?”

You nodded, twirling the pen in your hand as you absorbed the weight of your task. “Understood.”

Logan shifted beside you. Though he hadn’t said anything yet, you could feel the tension rolling off him. His thumb absentmindedly brushed over the fabric of your pants, a barely-there motion that sent shivers up your spine.

“Good,” Scott continued. “Logan, Jean, Ororo, and I will handle the main group of guards. Bobby and Kitty, you’re with us on crowd control. Everyone stick to the plan.”

As the meeting wrapped up, Logan finally spoke. “You sure she’s going in alone?” His voice was gruff, his eyes fixed on Scott. The unspoken I don’t like this hung heavy in the air.

“She can handle it,” Scott replied without missing a beat. “We wouldn’t assign her this role if she couldn’t.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue further. Instead, his hand squeezed your thigh gently before he pulled it away, as if reminding you that he was there, even if he didn’t agree with the plan.

---

The mission started smoothly. The team split up as planned, with Logan, Scott, Jean, Ororo, Bobby, and Kitty engaging the guards near the facility’s entrance. Meanwhile, you slipped into the building, your footsteps light as you navigated the sterile hallways.

The hum of fluorescent lights and the faint beeping of machinery filled the space. You kept your breathing steady, relying on your time manipulation to slow your perception of movement, giving yourself more control and awareness. It was a skill you’d honed over time, though it still required focus. You reached the central lab and quickly spotted the USB drive Scott had shown during the briefing. It was locked inside a glass case.

“Piece of cake,” you whispered to yourself, pulling out a small device. The gadget made quick work of the lock, and with a soft hiss, the case opened. You grabbed the drive, tucking it securely into the pouch on your belt.

As you turned to leave, you heard footsteps approaching from the hall. Instinctively, you reached out with your powers, halting time in the immediate area. The world around you froze: the footsteps, the hum of lights, even the faint sway of papers on a desk. Moving quickly, you exited the lab, retracing your steps until you reached a side door leading to the facility's exterior. Only then did you release your hold on time, letting it snap back into motion as if nothing had happened.

You broke into a run, heading for the Blackbird as planned. The others would be close behind once they finished with the guards. The night air was cool against your skin as you darted across the open space between the facility and the jet.

---

Logan stood amidst the chaos at the entrance. His claws slashed through another guard as Scott barked orders to hold the line. Jean and Ororo flanked him, their powers keeping waves of reinforcements at bay. It was going fine. Almost too fine.

Until Logan heard voices over the comms—the crackling radio chatter of guards somewhere outside the perimeter, and then the faint sound of footsteps heading toward the Blackbird.

His chest tightened. He didn’t think. He just moved.

"Logan, where the hell are you going?" Scott shouted over the din.

“Something’s off,” Logan growled, already bolting from the fight.

“We’re not done here!” Scott’s voice crackled in Logan’s earpiece, but Logan ripped it out, tossing it aside. He wasn’t going to lose you. Not again.

---

You’d just reached the Blackbird, your hand resting on the ramp control, when Logan appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. His breath came in harsh pants, and his eyes darted around, scanning the tree line for threats.

“Logan?” you asked, your brow furrowing as you lowered your hand. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be with the team.”

“They were handling it fine,” he said gruffly, his claws still out as he moved to stand in front of you like a shield. "Heard movement. Thought maybe they were gunnin' for you."

You stared at him, your confusion giving way to frustration. “You thought—Logan, I’m fine. The plan worked. I got the drive. I was already here.”

He turned to face you fully, his jaw tight and his eyes burning with a mix of anger and fear. “You think I’m just gonna sit back while you’re out here alone? Anything could’ve happened!”

“I can handle myself,” you shot back, your voice sharp but steady. “That’s why Scott trusted me with this part of the mission. You should’ve stayed with the team.”

Logan took a step closer, his presence overwhelming as always. “You don’t get it,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Every damn time... I lose you. Every time. And I can’t—” He broke off, dragging a hand through his hair, the claws retracting with a soft snikt.

Your frustration faltered, replaced by confusion. “What do you mean, ‘every time’? Logan, what are you talking about?”

He looked at you, something raw and vulnerable in his eyes. “I’ve lost you before, Y/N. More times than I can count. Doesn’t matter if it’s this life or another—I lose you. Always. And I can’t go through that again.”

You blinked, your mind reeling. His words didn’t make sense. “Logan—”

The sound of the others approaching cut you off. The rest of the team appeared, battered but victorious, and the moment between you and Logan was shattered. He stepped back, his usual mask sliding into place as he moved to help Scott secure the ramp.

But you couldn’t shake his words. You couldn’t shake the look in his eyes.

---

The flight back to the mansion was quiet and, thankfully, short. As Ororo and Scott expertly landed the jet, Bobby and Kitty were the first off, eager to escape the tension that hung in the air. They exchanged a few hushed words and hurried down the ramp, their footsteps echoing into the still night.

You unbuckled your seatbelt and stood, adjusting your glasses and stretching your legs. Logan was already up, his movements deliberate as he waited for the others to disembark. Jean followed Scott down the ramp, her hand brushing lightly against his arm as they spoke in low voices. Ororo trailed behind them, her gaze calm but perceptive, always attuned to the undercurrents of emotion in the group.

Scott stopped at the base of the ramp, his expression tight as he turned back toward Logan. “We need to talk,” he said, his voice clipped.

Logan leaned casually against one of the seats, his arms crossed. “Sure,” he replied, his tone dismissive. “Later.”

Scott’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t press the issue. Instead, he motioned for Jean and Ororo to follow him, and the three disappeared into the mansion, leaving you and Logan alone on the Blackbird.

You stayed near your seat, unsure whether to move or wait. Logan’s gaze flicked toward you, his expression softening as he stepped closer. His hand reached out, fingers brushing your wrist before he wrapped them around it gently.

“C’mere,” he said, his voice low but firm.

You allowed him to lead you to the far corner of the jet, away from the open ramp. Once there, he released your wrist but didn’t step back, his proximity sending a rush of warmth through you.

“What was that back there?” you asked, your voice steady despite the lingering tension. “Why did you leave the team to come after me? I was fine, Logan.”

He didn’t answer right away. His hands rested on his hips, his head bowing slightly as if searching for the right words. Finally, he looked up, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.

“You don’t get it,” he said, his tone gruff. “This ain’t just about the mission. It’s about you. I can’t just sit around and hope for the best when you’re out there, Y/N. Not after—” He stopped himself, his jaw clenching as he dragged a hand through his hair.

“Not after what?” you pressed, stepping closer. “Logan, what are you not telling me?”

He hesitated, his eyes scanning your face as if weighing whether to pull you into his truth. Finally, with a quiet sigh, he took a step back and leaned against the wall of the jet, his arms crossing over his chest.

“I’ve lost you before,” he admitted, his voice quieter now but no less raw. “Not just once. Over and over. Five times, to be exact.”

You frowned, confusion swirling in your mind. “Lost me? What are you talking about? I’ve only known you for—”

Logan’s gaze didn’t waver. “Not in this life. In others. You don’t remember, but I do.” He paused, his hands gripping the edge of the wall as if steadying himself. “Every time, I meet you. Every time, we get close. And every damn time, I lose you. To sickness, accidents, war... something always takes you from me.”

You blinked, the weight of his words pressing against your chest. “That doesn’t make sense. Logan, I don’t—”

“I know it sounds crazy,” he interrupted, his voice rising slightly before softening again. “But it’s the truth. The second I met you here, I knew. I’ve known you in ways I can’t explain. And now that I’ve got you in this life, I’ll be damned if I let anything happen to you.”

Your heart ached at the raw emotion in his voice, but it also raced with doubt and confusion. Logan’s words stirred something deep within you—a sense of recognition that you couldn’t explain, like catching the edge of a forgotten dream. But as much as your emotions pulled you toward him, your rational mind resisted.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. “Logan, I’m not saying you’re lying, but you’re telling me you’ve known me in other lifetimes? That’s not… possible.”

“It’s the truth, darlin’,” Logan said softly, his voice steady despite the weight of his admission. He leaned back against the wall, his posture deceptively relaxed while his eyes never left yours. “You can twist the logic all you want, but I know what I’ve lived through. And I know you.”

You shook your head, your mind racing to reconcile his certainty with everything you understood about the universe. “I’m a scientist, Logan. Time, space, the way life and death work… it doesn’t leave room for things like this.” You paused, searching for the words. “I mean, even if something like reincarnation were possible, how would you remember? How would you—” You stopped yourself, a lump forming in your throat as you thought of the weight he carried in his words. “Why would you remember and not me?”

Logan sighed, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t have all the answers. Hell, I don’t even know why my memories are so damn broken, but I know this much: every time I see you, it’s like some part of me snaps into place. Doesn’t matter how the rest of my life’s a blur—you’re the one thing that sticks. You always do.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. The sincerity in his tone, the desperation in his eyes—it was undeniable. And yet, your logical mind clung to disbelief.

“What do you remember?” you asked after a long pause, your voice quieter now. “About me? About… us?”

Logan’s jaw worked for a moment as he considered your question. “Everything,” he said finally. “The way you laugh, the way you think too much and then laugh about that. The way you’ve always got your nose in a book or a project that’s way over my head. And the way you look at me—like you see something good in me even when I don’t.”

Your breath hitched, and you pushed your glasses up your nose as you looked away, your cheeks burning. “That’s just how I am,” you mumbled, trying to deflect the heat of his gaze.

“Maybe,” Logan said, his voice softer now, almost tender. “But it’s always you, sweetheart. Doesn’t matter if you’re shy like now or bold like before. You’re still you.”

You hesitated, your mind a storm of contradictions. “If what you’re saying is true,” you said carefully, “then why don’t I remember? Why would I just… forget all of that?”

“I don’t know,” Logan admitted, stepping closer to you. He didn’t touch you this time, but his presence was steady and grounding, like the weight of his hand had been earlier. “But does it matter? You’re here now. And so am I.”

You didn’t know what to say. The logical part of you screamed to question him further, to demand proof or push back against the impossibility of his claims. But another part of you—the part that had always felt an unspoken connection to him, the part that trusted him without question—wanted to believe.

Before you could respond, a distant voice called out from the mansion grounds, cutting through the stillness. Logan’s eyes flicked toward the open ramp of the Blackbird, his jaw tightening briefly before his gaze returned to you.

“We’ll talk more later,” he said, his voice low and resolute. “I’m not lettin’ this go, Y/N. Not this time.”

You swallowed hard, nodding despite the turmoil inside you. Logan lingered a moment longer, his eyes searching yours as if memorizing every detail, before he turned and headed toward the ramp.

You stood there, rooted in place, your thoughts tangled and chaotic. If what Logan said was true, it changed everything. But even if it wasn’t, the weight of his words—and the look in his eyes—told you one thing: Logan wasn’t going to let you slip away. Not now, not ever.

---

That night, you found yourself lingering outside Jean and Scott’s room, hesitant but resolute. You raised a hand to knock, but paused, second-guessing. Before you could lose your nerve, you rapped softly on the door. It opened after a moment, Scott standing there with a questioning look. Behind him, Jean was tidying up near the dresser, her head tilting curiously at the sight of you.

“Hey, Y/N,” Scott said, his tone polite but guarded after the mission. “Everything okay?”

You glanced past him at Jean, then shifted back to Scott. “I was wondering if I could talk to Jean alone for a minute,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

Scott’s brow furrowed, but he stepped back with a small nod. “Sure.” He looked over his shoulder. “I’ll be in the common room,” he told Jean, his tone softening before he passed you a quick glance and exited the room.

Jean came over, her posture open and inviting as she gestured for you to come in. “What’s going on?” she asked, closing the door behind you.

You hesitated for a beat before finding your words. “I just… I needed to talk to someone. About Logan.”

Jean’s eyebrows lifted, her expression curious but understanding. She moved to sit on the edge of the bed, gesturing for you to take the chair by the desk. “Alright,” she said, her voice calm. “What’s on your mind?”

You sat down, folding your hands tightly in your lap. “He told me something today. Something… huge. And I don’t know what to do with it.”

Jean’s gaze sharpened slightly. “Is it about the mission?”

You shook your head quickly. “No. It’s… personal.” You hesitated, chewing on your lip before continuing. “He said he’s known me before. In other lives.”

Jean blinked, her posture stiffening slightly. “Other lives?”

“Yeah.” You let out a shaky breath, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions inside you. “He said we’ve met before—five times. That every time, we…” You swallowed hard, the words catching in your throat. “Every time, I die. And he remembers everything.”

Jean was quiet for a long moment, her eyes searching your face as she processed what you’d said. “And you don’t… remember any of this?” she asked gently.

“No,” you admitted, your voice cracking slightly. “And I don’t even know if it’s true. But the way he said it, Jean—it wasn’t just some story. It felt real. He believes it.”

Jean nodded slowly, her expression contemplative. “Logan’s been through a lot. And his memories—or the gaps in them—are complicated.” She tilted her head. “Did he say why he remembers you specifically?”

You hesitated, recalling his words on the jet. “He said… I’m the only thing that sticks. That everything else is a blur, but not me.”

Jean’s expression softened, and she leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on her knees. “Y/N, I don’t know if I can explain why Logan feels this way. But I do know he doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean. If he told you this, it’s because he believes it with everything he has.”

“That’s what scares me,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Because what if he’s right? What if there’s this… this whole part of me that I don’t even know exists?”

Jean reached out, placing a comforting hand on your arm. “Maybe there is. Or maybe this is just Logan’s way of processing his feelings for you. Either way, it doesn’t change who you are right now. You’re Y/N. The person we know, the person Logan clearly…” She trailed off, smiling faintly. “Clearly cares about.”

You looked down, your cheeks burning. “It’s just a lot to take in.”

Jean squeezed your arm gently. “I get that. But you don’t have to figure it all out tonight. Just take it one step at a time.”

You nodded, grateful for her steady presence. “Thanks, Jean. I needed this.”

“Anytime,” she said warmly. “And if you need someone to talk to again, I’m here.”

---

Meanwhile, in the common room, Logan sat slouched on the couch, a glass of whiskey resting on the table in front of him. His gaze was fixed on the darkened fireplace, his thoughts far away. He barely registered the sound of the door opening until Charles wheeled into the room.

“You look troubled,” Charles observed, his voice calm but perceptive as always.

Logan didn’t turn, his jaw tightening. “Not in the mood for a lecture, Chuck.”

“I wasn’t planning to give you one,” Charles said, stopping his chair beside the couch. “But I can tell something’s weighing on you.”

Logan huffed out a breath, finally glancing at him. “You ever feel like you’re living the same nightmare on repeat?”

Charles regarded him thoughtfully. “I’ve certainly seen my share of patterns in life. But I suspect you’re referring to something far more personal.”

Logan’s lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s Y/N,” he said finally. “She doesn’t know it, but… I’ve met her before. Five times, in different lives.”

Charles tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. “And you remember all of this?”

“Every damn detail,” Logan muttered, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “I can’t explain it, but it’s like she’s the one thing I can’t forget. Even after Weapon X, when they wiped everything else—she stuck.”

Charles was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. “And you told her this?”

Logan nodded, his jaw clenching. “She thinks I’m nuts. Can’t say I blame her.”

“Perhaps not,” Charles said gently. “But if what you’re saying is true, then Y/N’s presence in your life may have a purpose beyond what either of you understand.”

Logan let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, well, if it’s got a purpose, it sure as hell ain’t been kind. Every time I get close to her, I lose her. And I can’t do it again, Charles. I won’t.”

Charles placed a hand on Logan’s arm, his touch steady and grounding. “Whatever the truth may be, you have an opportunity now. She’s here, Logan. Focus on that. Focus on this moment.”

Logan exhaled deeply, his shoulders slumping. “Easier said than done.”

Charles smiled faintly. “Perhaps. But you’re not alone in this.”

Logan nodded reluctantly, his gaze returning to the fireless hearth. Despite the weight of his memories and fears, one thought remained constant: he wasn’t letting you go. Not this time.

---

The days after Logan's confession were a strange blend of tension and normalcy. One evening, as the mansion settled into its usual calm, you found yourself wandering outside. The garden was quiet, illuminated by the soft glow of the moon. You wrapped your arms around yourself, the crisp air biting at your skin as you walked aimlessly, your thoughts tangled.

You were startled when Logan's deep voice broke through the quiet. “You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

You turned to find him leaning against a tree, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp. He was dressed in his usual leather jacket, the faint scent of smoke and pine lingering in the air around him.

“I needed some air,” you said softly.

Logan pushed off the tree, closing the distance between you in a few long strides. “Yeah, well, you know how it gets around here. Safer not to wander too far.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You mean safer from the squirrels? Or the mutant squirrels?”

That earned you the faintest twitch of a smile. “Both.”

The silence between you stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. You looked up at the sky, the stars scattered like glitter across the inky blackness. Logan stood beside you, his gaze fixed on you instead of the view.

Finally, you broke the quiet. “I’ve been thinking about what you told me.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t interrupt.

“I don’t know if I believe in reincarnation or destiny or any of that,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “But… I believe you. I can’t explain why, but I do.”

Logan’s shoulders relaxed slightly, though his expression remained guarded. “You don’t have to believe it. Hell, half the time I wish it wasn’t true.”

You turned to face him fully, searching his face. “Why?”

His gaze flicked away, his mouth pressing into a hard line. “Because it’s a curse, Y/N. Every time I get you back, the universe rips you away. I can’t go through it again. I won’t.”

You stepped closer, your heart pounding in your chest. “Logan… I’m here now. Whatever happened before, it’s not happening now. I’m alive. I’m me.”

His eyes met yours, a storm of emotions swirling in them—fear, longing, and something deeper, raw and unspoken. “You say that now, but it doesn’t change what’s coming. You don’t know what it’s like to watch someone you—” He cut himself off, his voice breaking.

You reached out, your hand brushing his arm. “Then tell me. Help me understand.”

Logan stared at you for a long moment, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. Then, without warning, he closed the space between you, his hands gently but firmly gripping your shoulders. His voice was low, almost desperate. “You’re the only thing that’s ever felt real to me. Everything else gets taken, erased, twisted—but you… You’re the one thing they can’t touch. And I don’t know how to protect you without losing you.”

Your heart ached at his words, the weight of his pain pressing down on you. You covered his hands with yours, grounding him. “Then stop trying to protect me from something that hasn’t happened. Stop living in the past or the future and just… be here with me.”

His grip loosened slightly, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “Y/N…”

You shook your head, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “We’ll figure it out together. Okay?”

Logan exhaled a shaky breath, his forehead lowering to rest against yours. “Okay.”

The two of you stood there, the world around you fading into the background. For the first time in a long while, Logan allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, this time could be different.

---

He sat on the edge of the bed, the small jewelry box in his hand open as he looked at the ring he’s had for almost two centuries.

The door to Logan’s room creaked open as you stepped inside, balancing two plates in your hands. The smell of freshly baked lemon scones lingered in the air, and a small smile played on your lips as you made your way over to him.

“Breakfast in bed isn’t your usual thing,” Logan teased, his tone warm as his eyes followed you across the room.

You shrugged, setting the plates down on the bedside table. “First time for everything, right? Besides, I wanted to try making these.”

Logan arched a brow, feigning suspicion. “Scones, huh? What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” you said with a small laugh, sitting down on the bed beside him. “Just a lot of flour, butter, and a very questionable amount of zesting.” His lips twitched, but you caught the way his hand subtly slid into his jacket pocket. You raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly, leaning over to snag a scone off one of the plates. “These smell good.”

You narrowed your eyes, suspicion flickering in your expression, but decided to let it go—for now. “They’re lemon scones. First time making them. I figured I’d test them out on you.”

“Guinea pig, huh?” Logan bit into the scone, chewing thoughtfully. After a moment, he nodded. “Not bad. A little tart, but good.”

Your shoulders relaxed, relief washing over you. “Tart? I thought I added enough sugar…”

“It’s fine, darlin’. I like it.” He smirked, breaking off another piece. “Guess this means I’m stuck with being your taste tester now.”

You grinned, picking up your own scone. “You’ve survived worse.”

Logan chuckled, his laughter low and rumbling, as the two of you ate in comfortable silence. The summer sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. It was a quiet moment, one that felt oddly normal amidst the chaos of life at the mansion.

As you set your plate back on the table, you caught Logan watching you. His gaze was steady, but there was something behind it—an intensity that made your cheeks heat.

“What?” you asked softly, brushing a crumb off your lip.

“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head with a small smile. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

Logan leaned back, his arm draping across the headboard as he studied you. “How you’re the best part of this place.”

You froze, your heart skipping a beat. “Logan…”

“I mean it.” His voice was quieter now, more serious. “This place, the people—it’s good, but you? You make it feel like home.”

Your face warmed, and you looked down, suddenly shy. “You’re just saying that because I made you scones.”

He reached over, his hand gently tipping your chin up so your eyes met his. “Nah. It’s not the scones.”

The moment lingered, heavy with unspoken words. Logan’s thumb brushed your jaw before he pulled back, clearing his throat. “So, what’s the plan for the rest of the day?”

You blinked, still recovering from the softness of his touch. “Um… I don’t know. I was thinking about working on a project, but…” You hesitated. “It’s summer break. I guess I could take a day off.”

Logan’s lips quirked into a grin. “A whole day off? Guess miracles do happen.”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing a pillow and lightly swatting him with it. “Don’t push your luck.”

He laughed, the sound rich and genuine, and for a moment, you forgot about the world outside this room. It was just you and Logan, caught in a bubble of warmth and quiet understanding.

But as he reached into his pocket to absently fiddle with the small box, his expression turned thoughtful again. Logan didn’t know how to bring it up—or if he should. All he knew was that someday soon, he’d have to decide. Not if, but when.

---

Your goggles sat on top of your head, the red indent from the frame pressing into your skin as you scribbled furiously in your notebook. Equations sprawled across the pages in a chaotic but purposeful mess. The lab was quiet except for the soft hum of machinery and the faint scratch of your pen against the paper. You were so focused on your work that you didn’t hear Logan come in.

You jumped slightly when you felt his arms wrap around you from behind, his hands resting lightly on your waist. His voice rumbled close to your ear. “You’ve been holed up in here for hours, darlin’.”

“Logan!” you exclaimed, a blush rising to your cheeks. “You scared me.”

His lips curved into a grin against your neck as he pressed a soft kiss to your skin. “Didn’t mean to. What’s got you so wrapped up you didn’t even hear me?”

You relaxed against him, your hands stilling over your notebook. “I’m working on this project—trying to calculate temporal fluctuations in the presence of quantum anomalies. Basically, seeing how external variables could impact time distortion…”

Logan hummed, his lips grazing the side of your neck as he spoke. “Sounds complicated.”

“It’s not that complicated,” you said, your voice picking up with excitement as you began to explain. “The idea is that time manipulation isn’t linear—it’s like... imagine a fabric, but instead of pulling it straight, you twist and fold it. That’s where the anomalies come from. If I can track the changes in—” You cut off with a startled laugh as he kissed the sensitive spot below your ear. “Logan!”

“Keep talkin’,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. His arms tightened slightly, swaying the two of you gently side to side. “I’m listenin’.”

Your blush deepened, but you continued, trying to keep your thoughts straight despite the warmth of his lips trailing along your neck. “If I can track the changes in the energy fields… I might be able to stabilize them. Or at least predict when an event could disrupt—Logan!”

He turned you around, his hands still resting on your hips as he gave you a lopsided grin. “You’ve got no idea how good you look in a lab coat, do you?”

Your mouth opened, then closed as you searched for a response. “It’s… just a lab coat.”

Logan chuckled, his hands sliding to rest on the small of your back. “Not the way you wear it, sweetheart.”

You pushed lightly against his chest, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed your attempt at indignation. “Are you just here to distract me?”

“Maybe.” His grin softened into something more tender as his eyes held yours. “Or maybe I wanted to see my girl.”

Your breath hitched slightly at the way he said it, so casual but so full of affection. “Well, I’m flattered,” you teased, your voice quieter now. “Even if you’re trying to derail my research.”

Logan leaned down, his forehead brushing yours as his hand came up to cup your cheek. “You’re always workin’ so hard. Someone’s gotta remind you to take a break.”

You softened, your arms looping loosely around his neck. “Is that your job now?”

“Damn right it is,” he murmured before closing the small gap between you and capturing your lips in a kiss. It was slow and deliberate, and when he pulled back just enough to whisper against your lips, you could hear the smirk in his voice. “Still wearin’ that cherry lip gloss, huh?”

Your laugh was breathless. “I didn’t think you’d notice.”

“Hard not to,” he admitted, kissing you again, this time deeper, as if he were memorizing the taste. When he pulled back, his thumb brushed over your cheek. “Guess it’s my new favorite.”

Your head tilted slightly, curiosity flickering across your face. ��What was your old favorite?”

Logan chuckled, his arms tightening around you as he started to sway the two of you again. “Haven’t had one ‘til now.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, leaning into him as the tension from your work melted away. Logan always had a way of grounding you, reminding you that life didn’t have to be so complicated all the time. For now, you let yourself forget about time anomalies and equations, losing yourself in the warmth of his embrace and the way his lips brushed against yours again, soft and unhurried.

---

Usually, you were a light sleeper. The smallest sound—a creak in the floorboards, the subtle hum of the air conditioner kicking on—would have you stirring. But ever since you and Logan started sleeping in the same bed, whether it was his room or yours, you were out like a light the moment your head hit the pillow. It was as if some part of you instinctively knew you were safe, tucked against his warmth, lulled by the steady rhythm of his breathing.

It gave Logan a chance to test something he'd been thinking about for weeks.

The small velvet box sat on the nightstand on his side of the bed, just out of your line of sight. He had stared at it countless nights, his mind torn between the weight of what it meant and the comfort it brought him. That ring had traveled with him through lifetimes, through hell and back. It was the only constant in his pocket, a piece of the past he hadn’t been able to let go of.

And now, there you were again, lying beside him, so close he could hear your soft, even breaths. The moonlight streaming through the window glinted off your glasses, which sat folded on the bedside table. You looked peaceful, serene. He hated to disturb you, but the thought wouldn’t leave him alone.

He reached over slowly, careful not to jostle the bed, and picked up the box. His fingers hesitated on the lid. This wasn’t a proposal. Not yet. It was just... curiosity.

The lid opened with a soft click, revealing the simple yet elegant band. It had been forged in a different era, but it felt timeless, like you. He carefully pulled the ring out and turned it over in his hand, the faintest smile pulling at the corner of his mouth as he looked at you.

“Still sleepin’ like a rock,” he murmured under his breath. “Guess that’s new.”

You shifted slightly, your hand sliding out from under the pillow. Logan froze, waiting. When you didn’t stir again, he carefully took your hand, marveling at how delicate it felt in his rough, calloused one.

His thumb brushed over your knuckles, a pang of something bittersweet pulling at him. He slipped the ring onto your finger, holding his breath as it slid snugly into place.

It fit.

Logan’s chest tightened. It wasn’t just the way the ring looked—though it looked like it had been made for you, shining faintly in the moonlight. It was what it meant. A promise he hadn’t been able to keep five times before.

He lingered for a moment, his thumb brushing over your hand before he carefully slipped the ring off again and placed it back in the box. Closing it, he set it back on the nightstand and leaned down, pressing a featherlight kiss to your temple.

“Soon,” he whispered, his voice rough and low.

You stirred, your eyes fluttering open just enough to catch his face close to yours. "Logan?" you murmured sleepily.

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You hummed in contentment, your eyes closing again as you snuggled closer. “Mmm... okay.”

Logan wrapped an arm around you, pulling you against him. For now, he could wait. There was no rush. He just needed to take it one day at a time.

---

The cool summer breeze ruffled your hair as you leaned back against Logan’s shoulder, his arm wrapped loosely around your waist. The two of you were perched on the roof of the mansion, a favorite spot for quiet nights away from the chaos of the team. Above, the stars blinked faintly against the dark canvas of the night sky.

You closed Cloud Atlas with a soft thump and set it aside. Logan glanced over from where he was sketching in his notebook.

“Ya done with it?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.

“Yeah,” you replied, stretching your legs out in front of you. “It was... alright. Kind of disjointed but interesting.”

Logan chuckled, a sound that sent warmth straight to your chest. “Figures. You and your ‘I have to finish every book I start’ thing, darlin’.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway. “It’s called commitment, Logan.”

“Uh-huh.” He smirked, setting his notebook down. “Speaking of commitment...” He leaned over, reaching into the small bag he’d brought up to the roof.

You raised an eyebrow as he pulled out a book wrapped in brown paper. “What’s that?”

“Somethin’ you’ve been wantin’,” he said, handing it to you.

Curiosity sparked, you unwrapped it carefully, your eyes lighting up when the title was revealed: The Fabric of the Cosmos: Space, Time, and the Texture of Reality.

“Logan!” you gasped, running your fingers over the cover. “I’ve been looking for this everywhere! How did you—?”

“Course I remembered,” he interrupted smoothly, a smug grin tugging at his lips. “Wouldn’t forget somethin’ that makes you light up like that.”

Your cheeks warmed as you ducked your head, shy but unable to hide your smile. “Thank you,” you murmured, your voice soft.

“Don’t mention it,” he said, leaning back and draping an arm over your shoulders. “Go on, crack it open. Figured you’d wanna start it tonight.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. Settling against him, you flipped open the book and dove into the first chapter, the world around you fading as the words pulled you in. Logan stayed silent beside you, watching with an easy contentment as you lost yourself in the pages.

Two chapters in, you stopped mid-sentence, frowning slightly as something unexpected caught your eye. Pressed between the pages was a small, folded piece of paper. You glanced at Logan, who looked pointedly at the sky, pretending not to notice.

“What’s this?” you asked, unfolding it carefully.

“No idea,” he replied, his voice too casual.

You raised an eyebrow at him before returning your attention to the note. As you unfolded it, a glint of metal fell onto your lap. Your breath hitched. There, nestled against the fabric of your jeans, was a ring.

It was simple yet beautiful, timeless in design, with a delicate band that caught the starlight. For a moment, all you could do was stare, your mind reeling.

“Logan...” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

He shifted beside you, his movements slow and deliberate. When you turned to look at him, his expression was uncharacteristically soft, the usual gruffness in his features replaced by something vulnerable.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice rough but steady. “This ring... it’s been with me for longer than I care to admit. Carried it through lifetimes, through every damn thing life’s thrown at me. And every time, it’s led me back to you.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as he reached out, gently taking the ring from your lap.

“I’ve lost you too many times,” he continued, his thumb brushing over the band. “But this time... this time, I’m not lettin’ go. I don’t care what happens, how crazy things get, I want this to stick.”

He reached for your hand, his calloused fingers warm against yours. “So what d’ya say, darlin’? You up for makin’ this official?”

Tears blurred your vision as you nodded, your voice catching in your throat. “Logan... yes. Yes, of course.”

A grin broke across his face, rare and genuine, as he slid the ring onto your finger. It fit perfectly.

Without thinking, you launched yourself into his arms, burying your face in his chest as he held you close. His embrace was solid and unwavering, grounding you even as your emotions threatened to overwhelm.

“Didn’t think I’d ever get here,” he murmured against your hair.

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, your hands resting on his chest. “Me neither,” you admitted, your smile wobbly but radiant. “But I’m glad we did.”

He kissed you then, slow and deliberate, as if sealing a promise. The stars above seemed brighter somehow, the night air warmer. For the first time in a long while, everything felt right.

As the kiss ended, he rested his forehead against yours. “Guess I don’t need that ring burnin’ a hole in my pocket anymore,” he teased.

You laughed softly, wiping at your eyes. “Guess not.”

i could've dragged out them not being engaged, but i couldn't help myself. anyways, if you can't already tell, most of this alternate timeline is going to be just fluff so i hope y'all are ready for it!

(also, in my head they've been dating for a year so it's currently 2004, a year-ish after x2. i'll add the years at the end notes just for people who like it, because i need the dates just because that's who i am)

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #james howlett x reader #james howlett x you #logan howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett fic #i love you in every time #i love you always and forever

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your-hockey-mom · 1 day ago

Note

May I have a pregnancy announcement with Quinn? 🥹 Can you make her nervous, please??????

This couldn’t be happening right now. There was no way what you were seeing was correct.

For the last month or more you had noticed things that weren’t your normal. You had tried to explain them away as just PMS symptoms, but the nausea was the one thing that was the tell-tale red flag. The mood swings were nothing new, but they hadn’t gone away. Poor Quinn had been walking on eggshells for weeks on end despite having done nothing to warrant your attitude. Everything else just aligned with your cycle paying you a visit, however it never came around. You had been more stressed as of late, and a missed period wasn’t something you experienced often, but enough that you didn’t freak out initially. However, with everything stacking up, you bought a pregnancy test to hopefully clear your mind of any uncertainty.

Now, you stood alone in the bathroom, braced against the vanity while the timer on your phone ticked down to the last remaining seconds, although the test was very clearly completed. The blue plus-sign was the darkest shade of blue on both of the lines that the test could produce. It was a definite positive. With hands over your mouth in glaring realization, you stood there staring at it, trembling. Quinn was just beyond the bathroom door, unaware of the news you now had to give him.

How would he take it?

You weren’t married; you weren’t even engaged, yet here you were, feeling mocked by the pregnancy test sitting there on the counter. You couldn’t hide the fact now and this was no false-positive. You had to tell him. Your fingers were still shaking when you reached for it, nearly dropping it once it was between your fingers. “Shit~” You spat, just under your breath. You needed to get yourself in order or this was going to be so much harder. By this point, you had no idea how long had you been locked in the bathroom; how long did the test take again?

You tiptoed from the bathroom, hoping you’d find him not in the middle of something so you could get it over with as soon as possible, still unsure what his reaction was going to be. He was in the living room, feet up on the ottoman, streaming a Thursday Night Football game. He hadn’t noticed you approach until you squeaked out his name.

“Quinn?”

The first time you said it, he hadn’t heard you. The second time, however, it was more shaky and a touch louder, “Quinn?”

The change in your tone was what pulled his attention away from the broadcast. The look on your face had pulled him to his feet.

"What’s wrong, baby?” His face was drenched in concern and immediate dread. He knew you better than anyone and even he hadn’t seen you like this before. “You look really pale. Why don’t you sit down?”

The test wand was tucked in the palm of your hand and braced against your wrist. When Quinn asked you to sit on the sofa, you did so, but crossed your arms over your stomach, further helping you conceal the test until you were ready to finally break the news. He was looking at you with such worry. For some reason you thought he would be eyeing you with suspicion, but your rational brain knew Quinn wasn’t that way.

He’d sit right next to you, both of you turned towards the other slightly. Your eyes were down, staring at your knees before his hands touched you gently. His soft affection made you jump even though you saw it coming. It was like you were split between two different places.

“Are you alright?” He asked, never dreaming you would have jumped at his touch.

Your heart was beating so quickly, you couldn’t tell if you had said your reply loud enough because all you could hear was the thumping in your ears. “No.”

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

Still, your eyes were down, unable to look at his worried face. Quinn would actually bend down hoping to catch your gaze. When your eyes met, you began to cry. It was just too hard to keep the amped up emotions inside any longer.

“Oh, baby! Can you please tell me what’s wrong?” He reached forward, pulling hair behind you ear; his warm touch grazing your ear. “I’m really worried about you.”

“Quinn, I’m~,” you mumbled, your eyes flipping between both of his for something to focus on. “I’m...”

“Hmm?” Quinn’s tone was sympathetic, soft, and unhurried. He had his emotions reined in while you were running a thousand miles an hour.

“I’m...pregnant.” Immediately, you broke down, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks as you sobbed.

To say Quinn was shocked would have been an understatement. He wanted to smile, to be excited, but seeing you react like you were stopped his celebration. He’d hold your face with both of his hands and kiss you so passionately.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart! This is incredible!”

You’d sniffle once he parted from your lips. Reaching up to wipe your eyes, you forgot the test was in your hand, and it would drop from your lap to the floor. Quinn would beat you to picking it up and when his eyes saw the positive indicator he grinned. “Oh baby, I love you! Please, don’t cry! I’m so happy!”

Words were still hard for you; you were still sobbing, though you didn’t know why other than your hormones were running without restraint. Instead, you reached for him, and he took you in his arms immediately.

"Baby, baby, baby! It’s okay!” He hushed, one hand on your back, the other smoothing your hair. “Happy tears, okay?”

This made you cry more, buried into his neck as your fingers clawed into his back.

“Shhh, you’re okay. Everything is fine, sweetheart. I want you to be happy...” his voice dropped off, his non-hormonal stressed brain making a very irrational thought appear. “Do you not want to have the baby?”

You pushed back from him, eyes wide and in shock as you searched his face. “Of course I do! I’m just... I don’t know how to feel right now I’m so confused! I’m so sorry!”

He gave you a smile, “You have a lot going on, babe! It’s okay to be all over the place!” Quinn’s fingers tightened ever so slightly. “I love you so much!”

"I love you, too!” You continued to weep, just wanting to smile and share in his happiness. “You’re not upset?”

“Upset? Absolutely not! Why would I be?”

“Because we weren’t even...we hadn’t talked about this.”

“Everything for a reason, baby,” he smiled wider. “I can’t wait to let mom know. She’s going to go crazy!”

Your face went completely white. Both of your families had to be told, how had you forgotten? You struggled to tell Quinn, how were you going to handle telling two separate families of this news?

“We’ll tell them together, okay?” He added, seeing the immediate change in your expression. “We’ve plenty of time. Right now, all I care about is you and how you’re doing. I know the last month hasn’t been easy, and this explains a lot.”

“I’m so sorry I’ve been so mean to you, Quinn!”

“No, no, don’t cry! I’m alright, so just let that go.” He smiled again. “You’re okay.”

Falling against his chest again, you’d put your chin on his shoulder and whimper. Everything was hitting you at once and all you wanted was a break from feeling like an emotional nutcase. Quinn, on the other hand had taken to rocking you gently.

"Everything it okay, baby. I promise you. I couldn’t be more happy right now! To have a little family with you, I can’t lie, I’ve had daydreams about it. Now, it’s going to happen and I’m so happy!”

"Promise?”

“I promise. I’ll make sure you have everything you need, okay? I’ll go with you to as many appointments as I can and I’ll take care of you every step of the way.”

“Quinny,” you finally smiled. “You’re so sweet.”

“Anything for you and our little baby.”

#🥹🥹🥹 i thought this was a cute ask #i hope it was okay #quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes one shot #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes fanfiction #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction #hockey fic

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lilreidgirl · 9 hours ago

Text

My boy

Summary: You have an affair with a married man and get the consequences and they are not exactly bad

Warnings: MDNI(18+), fingering, unprotected sex (don´t), cheating (Spencer is married to Maeve), religious talk kinda??, swearing, praise, storyline is a bit rushed!, NOT PROOFREAD, SORRY

WC: ~1.8k

A/N: ---

You knew it was wrong. Very wrong. Sleeping with a married man was something you swore you would never do. Every time it happened on TV you’d turn to your mother and say, “How could they ever do that?”, and shed answer with “Love is complicated. You´ll understand one day.” And you did, the fateful day you met Spencer was the day you understood. Although not really, more so that it was multiple weeks where you little by little realized that yes, love was complicated.

You had met Maeve a few times, team dinners and get-togethers that she attended, she was pretty, kind, smart, everything Spencer could ever even dream of having. Almost right out of the bat you started crushing on him, noticing how damn attractive he was and how kind hearted his personality shown on the people around him.

It wasn’t until he showed up at your hotel one night, tears staining his cheeks and manifesting in his eyes, that you saw a more vulnerable, honest side of him. He had had a fight with Maeve, again he had said. You sat crisscross on the end of your bed, facing his body that was slumped onto your mattress, legs hanging off the edge.

He expressed his feelings about how hard it’s been and how she can’t seem to even try to understand what he’s going through, your heart shattered at his confessions. As he lay there, in your hotel bed, staring at you in silence like you had the answer to all his problems, you couldn’t stop yourself from moving a hand to his solemn face, brushing a messy loose strand of his hair off of his forehead.

When you heard the way his inhales and exhales quickened and deepened, your hand stilled any movements. A silence took over the room, one where the world stood still, your eyes trained on each other’s. Then before you knew it and could truly processes the horrible moral sin of an action that it was, you leaned down and kissed him.

At first, it was only your lips moving but after a small moment where you were just about to pull away because your thoughts finally took in how wrong it was, he kissed you back. Large hands gripped the sides of your face, fingers dug into the strands of your hair as his plump lips skillfully lapped over your own. His tongue had made its way into your mouth as you moved to straddle his hips, holding yourself up on his chest with your hands.

And in the back of your mind, you knew: this was wrong. But for that fleeting, shattering moment, it didn’t feel wrong at all.

It was wrong when you both stripped all your clothes and left each other bare, it was wrong when he sank his length into you; making you moan out his name in pleasure, it was wrong when he pumped his cock in and out of you at a perfectly paced rhythm, hitting all of the right spots, it was wrong when you both came at the same time; muttering “ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod” as you did, it was wrong when the last thing you whispered to each other before you drifted off to sleep was “I love you”.

It was wrong, but it sure as hell didn’t feel wrong, it felt perfect. And every time you guys slept together after that also felt perfect. Of course, you both knew how horrible it was, you tried talking about it but it never really played out to even be considered a full conversation.

You pushed the door open, peeking through the crack you had created. Spencer sat on his couch, elbows held on his knees as he persistently ran his hands through his already unruly hair. “Everything okay?” You asked, not missing the irony of asking that question while you slipped out of the shared bedroom of him and his wife that was currently away on a business trip, and into their living room.

He looked up, eyes travelling over you as his brain lagged and took in the fact that you had spoken. “Oh uh- yeah…”

With a face that very clearly told him you didn’t believe him, you made your way towards him, crawling onto his lap, feet resting on the couch as you leaned the side of your upper body onto his chest and your head onto his shoulder. “Really?” You asked.

A sigh left him and a moment of silence followed before he spoke up. “I… I um…” You traced a line down his chest with your finger hoping to give him some comfort with the action and your words, “Don’t worry, you can tell me,” you tried to reassure. “Maeve and I…” Your skin prickled at the mention of her name, fear ensuing you that maybe he had decided to finally end things with you for her, “We´re getting a divorce. I told her.”

The shock you felt for a moment after his words was quickly flushed out by the excitement and joy you felt. You knew though that your happiness over his impending divorce probably isn’t what he needed right now so you forced back the smile that threatened to present itself on your face. “Oh, I’m… sorry?”

Honestly, you were very unsure of how you were supposed to react to that. He chuckled as he lifted you up enough to make sure your legs were straddling his own. “No being sorry, baby, you’re allowed to be happy.” As you settled on his thighs you smiled, leaning in to peck his lips repeatedly.

“So does this mean we´ll be like officially together now?” Your voice was filled with glee and hope. “Yes. I’m all yours.” Both of you grinned as you kissed him again, this kiss was longer, more meaning full.

His hands found their way to your hips like they had countless times before, moving you against him as you breathed heavily into his mouth. When your relentless grinding on his hardening length didn’t seem to be enough anymore, he encircled your waist with his arm and spun you both around, laying you on the soft material of his couch.

Your legs moved to wrap around his waist but he gently pushed them down, instead grasping the hem of the shirt of his you wore and pulling it over your head and onto the floor. “So gorgeous. You are so incredibly gorgeous, princess,” he breathed out as he took you in, only clad in a flimsy pair of underpants.

He ducked his head down, kissing all the way from your neck to your abdomen, the kisses weren’t to mark you as his or to prove anything, they were an expression of the absolute love and affection he felt for you. He came face to face with your covered core, pressing a teasingly soft kiss on where he was sure your clit was; eliciting a giggle and a squirm from you.

Soon enough, you found yourself staring up at him again, but that quickly died down when he claimed your lips in yet another passion filled kiss. His fingers trailed down your stomach, fiddling with the material of your panties for a moment before pulling it down your legs, leaving them to rest at the apex of your now bent knees.

Without any warning he plunged two fingers into your entrance, immediately curling them just right to hit that perfect spot inside of you. He moved his fingers as he stared in awe as you withered away from the kiss to release an epiphany of moans.

Once he was satisfied and sure that you were wet and ready, he extracted his digits, licking them clean before he pulled down your panties the entire way down your legs and his boxers along with them.

Your head, that was already thrown back, lulled into the couch even harder as he slowly and carefully sunk into your inviting hole and warmth. “I love you, I love you so much, such a pretty girl, my pretty girl,” he praised as he drew his hips back and snapped them forward, peppering kisses all over your collarbone.

Your head reeled as you spewed out whimpers and moans in return. This time felt different, different than any time before. It was the first time it wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t a distraction from Spencer´s shitty marriage and it wasn’t some comfort for you after a bad day, it was a profound, unfiltered declaration of your love for each other.

One of his hands founds its way between your bodies during the hazy love making, starting to gently rub circles upon your sensitive clit. “Oh! Oh god! Fuck, Spencer, I’m close! I’m close,” you squeaked, holding onto his shoulders tightly as he quickened his hips and his finger.

“I know, angel, I know.” Spencer wasn’t a religious man, under no means, but he was pretty sure that you were the closest thing to divinity he´ll ever be able to understand.

“Come for me,” he ordered in a soft tone. Just a few seconds after his words, you did as he said, your orgasms washing over you in a way that felt like both a small calm beautiful stream and a wild strong breathtaking ocean. Spencer followed quickly, the sensation of you clenching around him being as heavenly as he would image heaven.

After he had fucked you both through your intense highs, pulled out and carried you to the bathroom to pee and take a shower, you found yourselves resting on the terrace, dressed in comfy clothes and wrapped up in a warm blanket.

“Are you going to have to move out? Cause I only have a one bedroom. But I do want to move in with you. Or is it too soon? Do you think she told the team? They’re gonna hate us-!” You rambled nervously, leaving the hot chocolate Spencer had made you unattended in your hands.

“Hey, hey, calm down, honey, it’ll be fine. We´ll talk about this later, alright? Right now you have an extremely beautiful sunset In front you, an unbelievably attractive man beside you and a really tasty hot chocolate said unbelievably attractive man made you,” he reassured, grinning proudly as he spoke his last sentence.

“Oh, unbelievably attractive, huh?” you teased.

“Yes, incredibly, unbelievably attractive.” He smirked, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Okay, I can get on board with that but my hot chocolate is 1000 times better than this.” You shrugged and gave him a smile before turning to take in the sunset before you.

“Honestly? You’re completely right.”

@emma-e-a

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid one shot #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader

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candycandy00 · 2 days ago

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The skeleton of an idea I had for a Kid x Reader fic. I might write a full version when I get time!

You’re a childhood friend of Kid’s. You were very close as children and he was very protective of you. He even said he wanted to marry you when the two of you grew up.

After he left to become a pirate, you missed him terribly. You were excited to see his wanted poster, and you thought he looked so handsome. You’d always been in love with him.

One day you decide you can’t wait any longer, you have to find him and ask to join his crew, even if you just cook or clean. So you go looking for him.

You get kidnapped, and end up at a strange and terrifying “human auction” with a collar around your neck. They bring you out on stage to sell you, and you watch in horror as rich old men prepare to make bids.

As your eyes scan the crowd, you notice someone tall standing near the back. It’s Kid! You’d recognize him anywhere, even though it’s been years since you saw him last.

At the same time, Kid is watching the auctions out of morbid curiosity when you, a beautiful young woman, are brought out on stage. He jokes with his crew about buying you. But the longer he looks at you, the more familiar you seem. When you look at him, and your eyes meet his, he knows. He’s certain you’re the girl he loved years ago, the girl he wanted to marry someday.

An older man is sitting a few feet away, talking loudly to his friend about how much he wants to buy you, shamelessly outlining all the depraved things he intends to do to you. He even laughs and says he loves to torture his sex slaves and watch them cry.

The bidding begins, and you’re horrified as strange men keep placing bids while Kid remains silent. You look at him pleadingly, hoping he recognizes you. Should you call out to him? Just as you open your mouth to call his name, he suddenly places a huge bid that blows all the others out of the water.

You’re so relieved, tears fill your eyes.

Later, you’re taken to his ship. He’s walked right by you several times but hasn’t acknowledged you at all. You suppose he has an image to maintain in public, so you don’t do anything to jeopardize that.

As for Kid, he has no idea what to do with you. He can guess why you came looking for him, but there’s no way in hell he’s letting you join his crew, where you’d be in constant danger and become wanted by the marines.

His only plan is to pretend he doesn’t remember you and drop you off at the next populated island. In the meantime, he’ll be an asshole to you so you’ll never pull a stunt like this again. He’d much rather you hate him in safety than love him in danger.

The first time he approaches you on his ship, in the privacy of his quarters, you run over to hug him. He doesn’t hug you back, instead lightly pushing you away. He denies knowing you, even when you tell him your name, even when you talk about things from your shared childhood.

You know he’s lying and you tell him so, saying you came to join his crew, to help in any way you could because you miss him.

His response is to tell you he doesn’t need you, he doesn’t remember you, and he’s dumping you on the next island. You argue, just like you did as kids. You’re not intimidated by him at all, even if he tries to act like a big scary pirate. You’ve known him too long for that.

In frustration, and desperation to scare you away, he slams his hand into the wall beside you and leans down, looking as menacing as possible as he tells you to shut up and leave him alone. If you can’t be a good little slave, he’ll have his way with you.

You blink up at him, heat rushing to your face as you give him a shy smile and say you’ve been hoping for that all along.

He very quickly turns his back to you, swearing as he stomps out of the room. Out of your view, he curses himself for his own lack of control. He’s been with women before, one night stands during his travels, but he’s never been with someone he loves before. Now his face is red, like a damn virgin, at the thought of throwing you across his bed and fucking you until morning.

That evening is torture for him, knowing the woman he’s loved for years is in his quarters, waiting for him, wanting him. He tries to resist, tries to avoid you and just focus on literally anything else. But, well, Kid is strong but he’s not that strong.

He suddenly bursts back into the room, throwing off his captain’s coat as he goes. Within seconds he’s pulled your thin dress over your head and got you pinned against the wall, your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck as he plunges his huge, hard cock into your dripping pussy.

You can only moan and whimper into his mouth as he kisses you, giving you everything you’ve been wanting from him. Hours later, after you’ve exhausted each other in many different positions, you’re lying in his bed, wrapped in his arms.

He confesses that he never forgot you, that he never stopped thinking of you, but he still can’t take you with him. It’s too dangerous, and you’d end up being a weakness for his enemies to target. Reluctantly, you agree. He promises to come back and make you his Pirate Queen someday.

The plan is to drop you off at the next safe island, but it’s at least a week away, and the two of you will thoroughly enjoy your time together until then.

#kid x reader #eustass kid #eustass x reader #eustass kid x reader #one piece smut #one piece x reader #x reader

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butlervibesonly · 2 days ago

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𝐵𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑎𝑖𝑠𝑙𝑒 | Austin Burler

• SUMMARY: Ashley, Austin’s sister, is checking up on her soon to be sister in law, and on her brother too before their wedding, to find out they’re both nervous wreck’s and, well… So made for each other.

• PAIRING: Austin Butler x female reader + Austin’s sister is included 🥰

• WARNINGS: nothing just fluff and most cute nervousness before wedding, maybe typos

“Oh my gosh, Y/n!” you hear Ashley gasp. You're counting down the last minutes until the ceremony. By now, your friends, who helped you with your dress and makeup, also had to get ready, so you were alone in your room. “You look absolutely gorgeous, Y/n!”

You fix some details on your dress, smiling at Ashley who also looks so beautiful in her dress. “Thank you, Ash.” As Ashley comes closer to you, she helps to adjust your veil. “How are you feeling?” she asks, noticing the nervousness in your eyes.

"Honestly?” you sigh. “I feel like my heart is about to jump out of my chest. I’m so nervous. What if... what if something goes wrong? What if I mess up, or he realizes—" Before you can even finish this sentence, Ashley stops you.

"Whoa, slow down. Let me stop you right there. First of all, nothing is going to go wrong, alright? And second you’re marrying my brother and he loves you. Like, completely, unconditionally, can’t-stop-talking-about-you loves you."

You laugh softly and nervously “He does talk a lot, doesn’t he?" Ashley nods while taking your hands in hers. "Oh, trust me, nonstop. He’s been like this since the day he met you. You should hear him when you’re not around. You’re his world, Y/n. And I’ve never seen him so happy."

Ashley’s words make your eyes filled with tears. You can’t believe you’re here, few minutes before marrying the man of your dreams forever. “Really?” you smile surprisingly at her.

“I wouldn’t joke about this. You’re everything he ever wanted. And trust me — this day is the day he always dreamed about.” Ashley was like your sister since the day one. She supports you in everything and loves you like you have always been the part of family.

“I just... don’t want to let him down, you know.”

“You won’t. Just be yourself as you are always “, Y/n, and this day will be perfect. You’ve got this, okay? And we all love you not only him!” Her hands are on your shoulders as he is looking into your eyes - with those eyes that are so familiar to Austin’s.

“Woah, thank you... really. You guys are the best thing that could ever happen to me.” you say, relieved. Ashley wraps her arms around you to pull you into a gentle hug as she doesn’t want to ruin your beautiful dress.

“Anytime. You’ll be part of family after all,” you two giggle. “Now, take another deep breath, and you will make my brother the luckiest man alive in any second.” she says and before she leaves, she turns in the door. “But first let me check on him,” she smirks making you laugh.

As Ashley knocks on her brother’s room, walking in she sees Austin adjusting his tie in the mirror. “Knock, knock. How’s the groom doing?” Austin lets out a breath, running a hand through his “Oh, you know... I’m so nervous. Like I have never been.”

Ashley smiles widely, remembering you told her the exact same thing. “Yea, definitely soulmates…” she murmurs, coming closer to help Austin with his tie. “What was that?” Austin asks as he didn’t understand what Ashley said.

“Oh, nothing. Just confirming what I already knew. You two are perfect for each other.” she replies and is done with his tie. Austin sits down on the bed with a deep sight. “I just... I don’t want to mess this up, you know? She’s everything to me. What if—“

“Nope. Don’t even go there. Listen to me, you’re not going to mess anything up, okay? You are over the heels about Y/n since the day one, do you know how I know?” Ashley looks at her brother as he furrows his eyebrows, waiting for what she wants to tell him.

“Because you never stop talking about Y/n, Austin. I’ve never seen you happier over anyone else like this. She’s good for you. And more importantly, you’re good for her. She loves you just as much as you love her, maybe even more-.

Austin smiles softly, taking notes of what Ashley says. “So stop worrying. She’s walking down that aisle because she wants to. All you have to do is be there, say 'I do,' and try not to cry much."

“No, no… Absolutely no promises on the crying part.” Austin says, pointing at the emergency tissue in his pocket. Ashley laughs, and as Austin stand up, they both hug,

“Remember, Aus, you’ve got this. You’re her everything, her friend, her partner in crime, her future husband. Now take a deep breath and let’s go make her Mrs. Butler.” Austin nods and as the clocks ticks the time of the ceremony, that is where your future begins. Your future as Mr. and Mrs. Butler.

#austin butler #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler imagine #austin butler x reader #austin butler x you #austin butler x y/n #austin butler fandom #austinbutler #austin butler fic #austin butler imagines #Spotify

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letaliabane · 3 days ago

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Saving the Butler! - Valet!SimonRiley and Maid!Reader (heavily centred on our Butler Mr Kyle Garrick)

You were sitting beneath the oak tree, taking in the early morning sun while the ladies of the house had their breakfast trays in bed when suddenly the shrill ring of the bike bell rang. Turning to the gate you saw the postman who handed in a singular letter before disappearing out of site.

Glancing at the aged parchment you noticed it was directly addressed to Mr Garrick himself.

Kyle Garrick was a young butler, younger than any you had met anyway. But you could say he was a bit of an old soul. Another of Lord John's close comrades from the war. Probably one of the very few he put all his trust in, especially making him the man to oversee the running of Downton Abbey.

He was a closed off man, by the book and firm when needed. Though sometimes you saw a tiny smile on his face when a joke was particularly funny in the servant's hall.

Making your way inside, you walked down the corridor and knocked on his office door.

'Enter,' you heard behind the closed door. You gave the butler a smile, 'Morning Mr Garrick, this just arrived at the back for you.'

'Thank you Y/N,' He said, giving you a tight-lipped smile as he took the letter.

When you had disappeared out of sight and the door shut, he slipped his paper knife through the envelope, letting it fall to the desk as he unravelled the letter.

Reading the words upon the page it felt like his heart had stopped. Lunging to his feet, he grabbed his coat and was out of his office, and out the back door.

A week later

As the kitchen staff were preparing to serve tea, the rest of the servants gathered from their jobs upstairs for a brief respite. You found yourself thirsty and decided to get yourself a glass of water.

Going into the now-empty kitchen, you were quick to grab a glass from the cupboard reserved for the staff. But as you went to turn the tap at the sink, a loud 'CRASH' had you gasping in shock, nearly dropping the glass in your hand.

Turning towards the sound, you saw the pantry doors wide open, within the threshold various vegetables and fruit rolled by and gathering them into a satchel was—Mr Garrick?!

He was out of breath, a red warmth to his cheeks as if he'd been in a hurry, his usual smart and presentable attire in disarray. Mr Garrick got to his feet only to freeze at the sight of you, mouth agape, unable to speak.

'Um,' You started, taking in the satchel he tried to hide terribly at his side, 'Can I help Mr Garrick?'

'No, not at all Y/N, not at all,' He said, giving you a nod before hurrying out towards the back door, leaving you quite dumbfounded.

You soon found your wits, returning your glass to its place before returning to the hall where the staff were all seated. Mr Riley was writing in his journal, Gwen going on about her lack of confidence in Matthew Crawley because of his 'class.'

As you took your seat, Mr Riley looked to you, eyes softening. 'You alrigh' Miss?'

'I've just seen something ever so odd—' You started, only to be spoken over by Gwen.

'I'm sorry but I have standards! If you expect me to bow and courtesy to this nobody from bloody nowhere-'

'Gwen?'

The voice had you all on your feet immediately. There standing at the door dressed in a beautiful yet simple lavender day dress, curled hair done in an updo with makeup light, was the Lady of the house Liliana Montel.

Though American, she had been one of the kindest women you had served, and probably the youngest. You could see why his Lordship had fallen for her. Beauty, kindness, and smarts are all in one package. Though rumour through the country was that he married her just for her father's money, you highly doubted it by the way they doted on each other and their three girls.

In this instance, however, her usual kindness was overshadowed by shock and sternness.

'Were you just discussing Mr Crawley?' She asked, staring directly at Gwen.

'Yes, Milady I was,' The woman in question choked out in her shock.

Liliana raised her eyebrow. 'Is it your place to do so?'

Gwen gulped heavily, gathering herself before saying, 'I've got my opinions milady, same as anybody else!'

The sharp clicking of heels caught your attention as Ms Laswell came from around the corner, going to her Ladyship's side. 'May I help you in any way Milday?'

'I just came down to pass on this button from my new evening coat, seems to have come undone,' Liliana says, putting the little black button into the head housekeeper's hand, eyes quickly moving to Gwen again. 'However I was ... quite shocked by the chatter I heard as I came in. Mr Crawley is his Lordship's distant cousin and heir. You therefore should please show him the respect he is entitled to.

Gwen puffed her chest, saying with a chortle, 'You don't like him yourself! Milday I overheard you say it, you never wanted him to—'

'Enough!' Liliana silenced her, expression now sour.

You had to hold back your shock. Every maid, let alone ladies maid knew there was a strict code to be followed. Of course, being able to assist the women of the house was a privilege, but hearing the gossip and secrets behind closed doors was an even bigger one. It was never to be shared or repeated elsewhere.

'You are sailing perilously close to a line that should not be crossed! If you are to remain a ladies' maid you will not speak in that way again about the Crawleys or any of my husband's family again.'

She was quick to take her leave, leaving the servant's hall in an awkward silence as you all took your seats again.

A embarrassed and red faced Gwen remained standing in shock before stating to the room, 'A real Lady of the house would've rang for me not come down herself.'

Without another word, she plucked the button from Ms Laswell and disappeared out of sight.

Glancing towards Johnny, his face bright red as he tried but failed to hold back his laughter. Quickly turning your body towards Mr Riley you couldn't help but giggle against his shoulder, his own laughter muffled behind his mask.

'Oh I haven't had a goo' laugh like tha' in a long time,' Johnny gasped, wiping the tear from his eye.

Mr Riley shook his head. 'Gwen had it coming to her. Regret to say it but I savoured it.'

You tilted your head with your eyebrow raised, smirking. 'You don't though do you?'

There was a particular glint in his eye which told you he did not regret it. He put his journal down, turning his attention to you. 'Now tell me about this odd thing you saw Miss.'

A week later

You sat in the servants hall, this time all alone, patching up the jewels on a pair of heels for Lady Edith. In the solitude, it was easier to get the work done without any distractions.

'Where is everyone?'

The rumble of Mr Riley's familiar voice had her turning to see him walking to your side, a coat over his arm, pulling out a chair beside you.

'They've gone down to the village, some travelling salesman has arrived and settled in a pub for the night. They all wanted to see him,' You said.

He raised his eyebrow, settling into his chair. 'Alone at last it seems.'

Chuckling, you continued cleaning the shoes. Just as he looked over his lordship's coat he muttered, 'Shouldn't be without both footmen, wonder if Mr Garrick knows?'

'Ms Laswell does! She went down with the others. They probably won't be long.'

A comfortable silence fell over you both, you working on the shoes while Mr Riley cleaned up the coat. His arm grazed yours every so often but you didn't mind. It was almost comforting. It reminded you of how he had raised your hand to his cold mask's lips. You imagined what his real lips were like. Were they warm? Gentle? Chapped—'

He piped up once, distracting you from your thoughts.

'So you see to all three girls, AND you are supposed to be head housemaid? You should put in for a raise?'

You couldn't help but scoff, sending him a cheeky smile. 'What do you mean 'supposed to be'?'

He chuckled but his reply was interrupted by the shrill ring of a bell. Your smile fell. Upon the opposite wall were all bells for every room in the house when service was required. This particular one was for the front door.

Mr Riley glanced up, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance, shaking his head. 'Didn't I say we should have had at least a single footmen left behind?'

'You'll have to answer it,' You say nervously, 'Mr Garrick won't like a lady's maid answering the front door.'

Assisting him up the stairs, you stood a ways away as Mr Riley answered the door. You couldn't hear very clearly, but there seemed to be a man asking for his Lordship. When Mr Riley refused, he said he knew Mr Garrick to be the butler.

Turning away from the door he came to your side, whispering frantically near your ear, 'Go and find Mr Garrick as fast as you can.'

You nodded and just as you turned away, the double doors were pushed open by the visitor. Tanned skin, black hair, he was dressed in a plaid suit, bowler hat in hand as he waltzed in.

Mr Riley looked to you once more, squeezing your hand, 'Go through the front door. Trust me.'

Giving him a nod, ignoring the man who looked you up and down you rushed out the door. Glancing around, you saw a distant figure walking down the garden path towards the house who vaguely looked like the butler.

Your heels clicked against the pebbled path, running as fast as you could towards him. 'Mr Garrick?'

The man looked up, revealing it was indeed, Mr Garrick, eyes wide in shock at the sight of you. You stopped in front of him and tried to catch your breath.

'Good God Y/N, are you—'

'No time!' You gasped, 'You're needed at the house at once. A man is asking for you!'

Mr Garrick's expression morphed into fear. With him at your side, you both rushed back towards the house. Following behind him into the library, you found the man in question, a perplexed Lord John and Mr Riley.

'Beg pardon your lordship!' Mr Garrick said as he rushed into the room.

Mr Riley glanced towards him then turned at your arrival, coming to your side as you tried to quietly catch your breath, pressing a firm hand to your back as if to steady you.

'You two can go—'

'No!' John bellowed over the butler, stopping you and Mr Riley in your tracks, 'No one is going anywhere! Do I take it you know this man Garrick?'

The unknown man grinned, but it wasn't in a friendly way. More like to tease. 'You gonna tell 'em or shall I?'

'I'm going to!' Mr Garrick said, rather angrily. 'This is Thomas Grig. We grew up together.'

Thomas scoffed, stepping up towards Mr Garrick. 'That's an understatement. We were brothers—'

'We were not!' The butler opposed, shoving his hand off when he went to embrace him. His smile no longer remained, stepping away from Mr Garrick.

Mr Garrick's eyes jumped nervously from each person in the room, head hanging low. 'This was long before I was taken in by an orphanage. But we grew up in a poor part of Manchester. And that led to us ... to steal to survive.'

You angrily stared at Thomas who looked around in glee as if proud of his act. You couldn't believe he would try to shame Mr Garrick for only trying to survive.

'He turned up in the village a week or so ago with no warning. On the run of course. Wanting a place to hide, and of course, for money!' Mr Garrick explained, 'He was wanted for some petty crime that he is obviously guilty of—'

'Hey steady on!' Thomas growled, shoving the butler. You felt Mr Riley stiffen beside you, fist tight as he glowered at the man. Quietly, you reached for his hand, and his eyes were quick towards you, briefly taking your hand into his.

Mr Garrick sighed, 'He blackmailed me, saying if I didn't help he would expose my past. I put him up in one of the empty cottages. I couldn't buy food from the village. Would've raised too many questions. So I stole, from the kitchens here. Y/N saw me,' He sighed, pointing towards you.

You shook your head. 'I wouldn't 'ave said anything Mr—'

'My Lord,' Mr Garrick said over you, looking to his lordship guiltily, 'I understand if my resignation is needed.'

John, who had remained silent this whole time taking in the encounter, cleared his throat, turning to Thomas.

'So why have you come here today? Especially if he has done everything you have asked of him?'

Thomas scoffed, glaring towards Mr Garrick, before, with absolute gall, he sat down on one of the great sofas. 'Because he hasn't! He didn't give me any money!''

'If I did you would've just come back for more. You are nothing but greedy!' Mr Garrick muttered, Thomas laughing.

John glanced between the two before smiling. 'Mr Grigg I'll tell you what's going to happen. When I've given you twenty pounds you will leave Downton immediately and we will never see you again.'

Though he brightened at the mention of money, Thomas grimaced. 'I'll will have to see?'

'If you return I will ensure you are convicted for theft and blackmail,' John continued, even as Thomas jumped to his feet in a bumbling mess, pulling a couple of noted of money out of his wallet, 'You will serve five to ten years in His Majesty's custody.'

The man eyed the money, grabbing the money with a huff. 'One day your lot will fall, you'll have to toe the line like the rest of us.'

John smiled brightly. 'Thankfully for Kyle Garrick, that day has not come.'

Thomas glared at Mr Garrick before turning on his heel and stomping out of the room. Mr Riley pulled you behind him as the man stomped past, quickly following him, probably to ensure he had left.

'I'll take it my resignation has not been accepted sir?' You heard Mr Garrick ask quietly. It was the least confident you had ever seen him. It almost made your heart break a little at the fear in his voice.

John turned to him, gripping the man's shoulder. 'We all have chapters we would rather keep unpublished Kyle.'

'You and I are gonna have to treat Mr Garrick like a God for a month to calm his nerves! He'll be afraid it'll change the way we think of him,' Mr Riley said from a corner of the garden. Once again, night had fallen, Mr Riley's mask was off as he smoked in the shadows, while you turned your back as you sat beneath the oak tree.

You giggled, 'Well we mustn't let it! We should admire him more because of it!'

'Either way, it will change the way we think of him somehow. It always does.'

You couldn't help but frown at his words, shaking your head. 'I don't see why. I shouldn't care what I found out about you, whatever it was. It wouldn't alter my opinion one bit!'

There was a long pause after you spoke you almost thought Mr Riley had gone inside. It was the crushing of cigarette beneath boot heel that brought you back into the moment, Mr Riley grumbling, as if to himself.

'But it would. It certainly would.'

Call of Duty Masterlist Happy New Year all!~ New chapter is here! Thought I'd make this one about Kyle, but also put a bit of angst at the end. What could Mr Riley be referring to ;) Taglist @lostintransist @teapartydreams @darkangel4121

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bread-crum206 · 1 day ago

Text

A Game of Hearts

Chapter two: Separate Worlds

Summary: Y/N’s father is a VIP for the games, he makes a deal with the Frontman that if he marries his only daughter that he will continue to sponsor the games. However, Y/N is not fond of this decision as she loathes the games and in turn, loathes the Frontman as well. Will she grow to love him? Will he let his walls down?

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5

The first week of marriage passed like a distant blur, marked by long silences and careful avoidance. Despite the lavish quarters with gleaming marble floors, floor-to-ceiling windows, and a breathtaking view of the sea, it felt more like a prison.

You saw little of him during the day. He vanished into the depths of the complex, consumed by duties you weren’t privy to. When he did return, it was late, and he moved silently through the common area, a shadow slipping into the room.

You hadn’t known what to expect from this arrangement, but the suffocating quiet wasn’t it. Not that you wanted a connection, he was a stranger, a cog in the machine that orchestrated suffering and death.

And yet, as much as you hated it, his absence left you alone with your thoughts—thoughts that inevitably circled back to him.

One sleepless night, the storm outside rattled the windows, the wind howling like a beast at your door. You paced the length of the sitting room, the cold marble floor unforgiving under your bare feet. The hours stretched endlessly until, at last, the door creaked open.

You whirled around, your heart racing. He stepped inside, exhausted and weary, his mask still obscuring his face. He paused when he saw you.

“Couldn’t sleep?” His voice cut through the heavy silence.

You folded your arms and leveled a glare at him, willing your pulse to slow. “No. Not that it’s any of your concern.”

He said nothing, only placed the mask on a small table near the door. Then, he stepped further into the room. For the first time, his face was fully visible to you; he was pale, sharp-featured, with exhaustion etched deep into every line. He was undeniably attractive, a man forged from shadows and secrets.

“You’re human after all,” you muttered before you could stop yourself, mockery dripping from your tone.

His gaze snapped to yours, hard and unflinching. “Is that what you think?”

“I don’t know what to think,” you shot back. “You hide behind that stupid mask and expect me to pretend that this is normal.” You said quickly and before you could think, you quietly added on, “I don’t even know your name.” Not sure if he heard you, you continued staring him down until he answered you.

His eyes darkened as he exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. “I never asked for this either.”

“Then why agree to it?” The question hung heavy on you.

His jaw tightened. For a moment, you thought he wouldn’t answer. Then, quietly, he said, “Because saying no wasn’t an option.”

You scoffed, he was being ridiculous, “There’s always an option. You just chose the easy way out.”

Something flickered in his eyes, perhaps anger, or maybe something far more dangerous. But he didn’t take the bait. “Get some rest,” he said as he turned away. “You’ll need it.”

“For what?”

He didn’t answer. You watched his retreating form until he disappeared into your shared bedroom, the door left slightly ajar. The silence stretched on, pressing against you like a heavy weight on your chest.

Minutes passed before you moved, your feet carrying you down the hall. The faint glow of moonlight seeped into the crack of his door. You stood there, hesitating, before finally stepping inside.

He lay on his side, his breathing steady but not quite deep enough for sleep.

“He couldn’t even be a gentleman and wait up,” you muttered under your breath.

The covers were cool as you slipped into bed, the space between you vast and heavy with things unsaid. Tomorrow, you thought bitterly, would be just another day in this bleak, soulless place.

———————

The next morning, the soft murmur of voices pulled you from sleep. You rubbed your eyes and followed the sound into the sitting room, where you found him standing by the window, speaking into a sleek black earpiece.

He ended the call abruptly when he noticed you, slipping the device into his pocket. “Good morning.”

“Is it?” you asked flatly, heading for the kitchenette.

You felt his gaze on your back as you poured yourself a cup of tea. It was a palpable thing, a fire licking at your skin. Finally, you turned, meeting his eyes with a defiant stare. “Are you going to stand there all day?”

He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’re not used to being watched, are you?”

The question hit like a punch. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Your father watches everyone. It’s how he stays in control.”

The mention of your father hit a nerve, a sharp reminder of why you were here. You bristled. “What do you know about him?”

“Enough.”

Tension crackled between you like static electricity. You clenched your jaw, anger bubbling beneath the surface. “If you think I need advice from you—”

“If you want to survive here,” he interrupted, his voice calm but firm, “you’ll need to understand how this world works. It’s not as simple as you think.”

“Survive?” You scoffed. “I’m not one of your contestants. I didn’t choose to be here.”

“Neither did I,” he said softly.

There it was again—regret, a fracture in the mask he wore even without the physical one. You stared at him, your heart beating faster than you liked. For the first time, you saw the man behind the title, the chains binding you both to this terrible place.

But understanding didn’t lessen the weight of it. And it didn’t change the truth: you were prisoners here, tethered by a fate neither of you had chosen.

———————

This was the second chapter! I hope you liked it.. :)

Tag list:

@sunny21200

@lucinda-reads

@shakysif

@whoisbriannaa

#squid games x reader #squid game x reader #squid game x y/n #squid game #in ho x reader #arranged marriage #marriage au #frontman x reader #the front man

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ikkyfics · 2 days ago

Note

hiii, could you maybe write a dave lizewski x reader where the reader is also a huge comic book nerd like dave? and he comes over to her place to help her organize all her comic books + action figures into her display shelves + they yap together abt comic stuff or something

it can be established rs or pre relationship, i think either way would be still be so cute!!! it would also be rlly cool to see a more sarcastic reader utilized here, its cute to see that dynamic with dave!!!

i rlly hope this makes sense! i hope it didnt seem too rambly 😭😭😭😭 thank uuuuu

Supreme Sarcasm Power

Dave Lizewski x f!reader

Summary: "I knew you had an impressive collection, but… this is practically a nerd sanctuary." "You only say that because you want to marry me and get half of the assets in the division," you retorted. The teasing tone made Dave flash a crooked smile, nearly dropping the action figure. "I don't need a comic collection for that," he shot back, his eyes sparkling behind his glasses. "Just you."

Warnings: just fluffy

A/N: honey, yeees I understood, don't worry. I feel like I made a mistake with the nerdy references(so sorry), but I hope you can like it <33

Masterlist

The room was a perfect reflection of your personality: half Disney princess, half intergalactic warrior. Cute plushies shared space with incredibly detailed action figures, and shelves full of comics contrasted with delicate pastel-colored lamps. Dave was in the middle of the organized chaos, holding a Captain America action figure in one hand and a Watchmen comic book in the other.

"I knew you had an impressive collection, but... this is practically a nerd sanctuary," he said, trying not to sound too impressed—and failing miserably.

"You only say that because you want to marry me and get half of the assets in the division," you retorted, not even looking up as you stacked some issues of Saga. The teasing tone made Dave flash a crooked smile, nearly dropping the action figure.

"I don't need a comic collection for that," he shot back, his eyes sparkling behind his glasses. "Just you."

"Aww," you replied, turning to face him with an arched eyebrow. "But if you drop my Captain America, forget it."

Dave chuckled, slightly flushed, as he carefully placed the action figure on the designated shelf. "Seriously, how did you get this? This limited edition costs a fortune."

"Connections," you replied mysteriously, crossing your arms. "And what I did was sell part of my soul. Totally worth it, don't you think?"

Dave laughed, still eyeing the action figure in his hands before carefully returning it to its proper spot on the shelf. You could feel his gaze lingering on every detail of your room, as if he was absorbing it all. It was the kind of attention he gave to everything he loved, and, well, you knew that included you. But you weren’t going to admit that out loud, at least not without making a sarcastic comment right after.

"So, what's next on the organization list?" he asked, putting his hands on his hips in an awkward but absurdly adorable way.

You pointed to the stack of boxes in the corner of the room. "That one. But be careful with the one at the bottom, it has glass. And if you break something... well, let's just say not even the Hulk will protect you."

"Got it," he responded with a serious expression that lasted two seconds before giving way to a nervous smile. "No ruining my entrance to the Avengers, noted."

As he bent down to grab the next box, you returned your focus to organizing the comics alphabetically—because, of course, it had to be alphabetical. It didn’t take long for the comfortable silence to be broken by a strange sound coming from Dave: a mix of a sigh and a stifled laugh.

"What’s up?" you asked, not turning around. The casual tone was a clear attempt to ignore the little wave of concern that hit you. After all, that kind of sound coming from him usually meant he'd found something... compromising.

He didn’t answer, which only made your anxiety worse. When you finally turned around, your heart practically dropped to your stomach. There he was, holding a Quicksilver poster with a lipstick mark strategically placed on the character’s cheek. The bright red contrasted with the worn paper, clearly loved too much during its glory days.

"Oh, God," you muttered, bringing a hand to your face. "Dave, give me that."

He held the poster above his head with a grin so wide it looked like it might split his face in half. "I didn’t know you were such a big fan of Peter Maximoff."

"I’m not!" you shot back, already crossing the room toward him. "It was a teenage thing. Give it to me before I die of embarrassment."

"Teenage?" He raised an eyebrow, as if processing a revolutionary discovery. "You used to kiss posters as a teenager?"

"I didn’t kiss posters!" you exclaimed, trying to jump and grab the paper, but he had the height advantage. "It was just... I had a crush, okay? And that’s none of your business!"

He laughed, stepping back. "I think it is. After all, I’m the one who’ll have to compete with Quicksilver now."

"Dave Lizewski, I swear I’ll..." you began, but he interrupted, holding the poster even higher.

"What are you going to do? Summon your supreme sarcasm powers? Because, as far as I know, that’s not going to help you get this," he teased, his eyes gleaming with pure amusement.

You sighed, trying not to show how defeated you were in your own specialty: keeping composure. Dave seemed to be enjoying every second of this role reversal, holding the poster like a freshly won trophy, his dark curls slightly messy on his forehead, and his blue eyes shining behind his glasses. It was hard to stay truly mad at him when he had that expression—a half-smile, half-mischievous grin—that made your heart stumble before you even realized it.

But you weren’t going to give up that easily.

"Do you really want to turn this into a battle?" you shot back, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow. "Because, as far as I know, you’re not exactly known for winning."

He laughed, a low chuckle that seemed to reverberate in the space between you. "Oh, sure. This coming from the person who’s literally turning red just because I found out she kissed posters."

"I didn’t kiss posters," you repeated, even though the evidence was incriminatingly clear.

Dave raised his hand even higher, the poster swaying dangerously above you both. He wasn’t exactly tall, but he was strong in a way that didn’t seem obvious at first glance—not until you noticed the muscles in his arms, visible even under the sleeves of his T-shirt. You tried again to grab the poster, but he leaned back, laughing once more.

"Okay, this is getting ridiculous," you muttered, stopping your jumping and placing your hands on your hips. "I can't believe I’m losing to you."

"That’s what makes me a genius, right?" he responded, still with that teasing tone. "I finally figured out your weakness: teenage embarrassment."

"No way," you said, your voice firm, even though the back of your neck was still warm.

You knew you needed to change strategies. Jumping and trying to grab the poster clearly wasn’t working, so it was time to do what you did best: turn the tables in your favor.

Straightening your posture, you took a step closer to him, closing the distance until you were almost invading his space. Your gaze deliberately moved from his eyes to the poster, then back to him, your lips curling into a slow, deliberate smile.

"Okay, you won," you said softly, your voice dropping to a low, almost melodic tone. "But, if we’re talking about kisses..."

Before he could process what was happening, you placed your hands on his torso—heat and firmness under the thin fabric of his T-shirt—and took another step closer. Your fingers lazily running along his sides.

"...maybe you want one too?"

You saw the instant transformation in him. The confident smile faltered, his eyes widened slightly behind his glasses, and color rose on his cheeks with almost comical speed.

"W-what?" he stammered, his voice faltering like someone had pressed the wrong key.

You seized the advantage, tilting your head slightly as if considering the idea seriously. "You heard me. Just tell me, Dave. I’m generous like that."

The poster started to drop—finally—but by this point, you didn’t even care about it anymore. All that mattered was the growing heat between you, the way his eyes couldn’t decide whether to look at yours or your lips, and the way his breath had become slightly irregular.

"I... I mean..." he tried, but the words tangled in an adorable way.

"Dave," you interrupted, your voice a little firmer, but with a hint of tenderness.

"Hm?"

"I don’t want the poster," you admitted, letting your hands slide a little higher up his chest. "I just want you."

The silence that followed was thick, but in a way that made the air feel electrified. He finally let go of the poster, letting it fall to the floor carelessly, while his arms came around your waist, pulling you gently closer.

"You don’t play fair," he murmured, his voice husky, but with that mischievous smile still present.

"I know," you replied, leaning in his direction until your lips finally met.

The kiss was slow but full of intention, a mix of quiet laughs and a passion that seemed to overflow with every touch. It was a little clumsy, as always, but that only made you fall for him more.

When you finally pulled apart, he was grinning from ear to ear, his eyes sparkling in a way that made everything around you feel lighter.

"You won this time," he said, with a theatrical sigh.

"I always win," you retorted, giving his chest a little push before turning to grab the forgotten poster.

But as you crouched down to pick it up, he spoke again:

"Just so it’s recorded... I definitely wouldn’t mind being defeated like that more often."

And in that moment, as you laughed and tried to look indifferent, all you could think about was how Dave Lizewski was your favorite victory.

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quarterlifekitty · 2 hours ago

Note

I don't know if you've answered this before (I don't think you have? Or at least not for as long as I've followed you) but anyways

Do you have any thoughts on what kind of drunk personalities the boys have (at least for those that do drink)? Like, if they have a distinctive drunk personality, are any of them like overly feral, horny, affectionate, giggly, moody etc. when they're drunk?

And if any of them partake in recreational drug use, is their high personality the same or any different from their drunk personality?

Gaz is almost insufferably giggly. He’s the type of dude who gets drunk and starts kissing you until all he can say is “…hi” with a little smile when he looks at you.

I could say so much about Soap. But I think the funniest answer is that he’s sober. He’s the mom friend when they’re out drinking. He’s getting everyone home. (He used to drink too much when he was younger, now it just grosses him out. He was the frat boy who was always throwing up.)

Ghost will get chatty. As in, he’ll start being too honest. He’s gonna start saying things that Sober Ghost had the sense to keep inside. Things like “I’ve always wondered what your cunt would feel like” when he’s maybe said, cumulatively, 100 words to you in the like 3 years you’ve known each other.

Price is also saying too much. Asking shit like “so why aren’t you married?” (like a 6 year old unsupervised at a family function). He will then proceed to tell you all of his opinions on the relevant subject.

I think König is one of those people who gets really outgoing and smooth when he’s drunk. And then the memories of how he acted haunt him and he vows to never go out drinking with people again. Until the next time you ask him to go, that is.

Nik is the horny drunk. His hands are all over you and saying “What, I can’t show my love to my malýshka?” If you try to get him to stop. He’s constantly trying to pull you into his lap. He’s bragging to people about you incessantly. He does this regardless of whether or not you’re really dating.

Nikto refuses to get drunk in front of others because when he’s drunk it’s really easy to make him cry.

Rudy starts picking fights. He’s usually so composed, but when his cheeks are flushed with alcohol… It’s like his blood just gets hotter. Especially if you’re around. Because then that stupid part of his brain that wants to look tough in front of you starts flaring.

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astrasng · 9 hours ago

Text

Refined Secret || N.J

→ summary: you were engaged to jeno, nevertheless, his best man somehow twists your head in his direction.

→ pairing: manipulative!jaemin x fem!reader

→ wc: 3.3k

→ warning: smut || cheating, manupulation but just slightly!, reader is called dumb (by me lol) OJ fem receiving, nicknames, unprotected sex.

→ a/n: 'm so going crazy yall lol i love jeno btw he's my bias but it was logical to him being the best friend yk so i'm sorry if someone thinks it's shit like this but i promise it's WORTH IT. (i swear i’ll write something for him too to even it out)

enjoy!♡

You wish you could say this is not how you wanted your relationship to go with Jaemin. But no. All you wanted was that you have a good relationship with your husband’s best man,being the perfect fiancée that gets on well with everybody. Your husband-to-be prioritized his friends and family like no other, his friends incredibly important as he basically grew up with them.

He always found it adorable how hard you try to fit in with his group of friends, always welcoming them with open arms whenever he told you that his friends are coming over. He really did appreciate your hard work.

Jaemin loved his best friend, more than anything. But when he heard that he’s getting married to someone, he was the first who wanted to see the bride. Weird, right? Well, up until now he was simply jealous because there’s someone else in Jeno’s life now beside him. There will no longer be just Jaemin and Jeno, but Jeno and his fiancée. Of course, he was happy for him, but the minute his eyes landed on you he felt like he could turn the whole world upside down.

Ever since that day, he spent sleepless nights in his cold bed alone, trying to get you out of his head. This little game in his head repeated over and over every night, and there were times when it worsened those days when he saw you. After months of knowing you, after stroking himself every night in his bed at the thought of you smiling or laughing so prettily at something Jaemin said nearly always made him finish in his boxers, he decided to make his move.

You were loyal, never in your life thought about cheating on Jeno, your perfect fiancé. But sometimes you were too gullible, with the right words, your head was quickly turned in the wrong direction. But you thought, this should be fine, it’s his best friend! in a naive voice inside your head. Your eyes couldn't stay away from Jaemin either, whenever he came over he always flashed a leg shaking smile in your way, greeting you in a husky voice. He made your heart skip multiple beats whenever he sat down across from you at the table when he stayed over for dinner, or when the whole group was over for a get together. It felt like he always gave you more attention, his eyes never leaving yours when talking, nor when someone else talked.

��It was infuriating seeing you being together with somebody else that is not him.

In Jaemin’s eyes, he didn’t see the chemistry between you and Jeno. And this is why he decided to prove to you that it’s useless being together with his best friend. Even if it hurt him, he needed you at this point. Jaemin felt his body physically drawn to you, his body always close to yours in a room, not holding himself back when his arm brushed against yours, or when that one time he practically brushed his crotch against your backside.

“Excuse me, darling.” You heard a voice behind you, then felt two hands gripping your hips to smoothly push you aside so Jaemin could walk past behind you. His warm hands on you made you look up into his eyes,seeing him smirking down at you when your breath hitched at feeling something subtly hard against you.

Since then, you can’t not blush in his presence.

The subtle leg brush against your leg snaps your head in another direction, directly in Jaemin’s half lidded smirk as he pays attention to his friend, Haechan, talking about something he finds in this circumstance simply boring. His chin is propped up against his hand as he keeps his gaze away from you, his hair perfectly styled which makes you want to dishevel just to see him blissed out from the pressure you usually use to grip on his hair.

But you can’t.

You told yourself multiple times since the last session you had with him. When Jaemin approached you for the first time, it was sudden but not unexpected. Both of you could feel the weird attraction between the two of you, the ache in your bodies spoke louder than any words. And later, your acts too. But you told Jaemin that it can’t happen again.

The thing is with him, he is determined. He wants you, he needs you, so he has to have you now. And you knew this perfectly, when you heard Jeno coming in the bedroom after a long day of work just to tell you that he’s throwing a get-together again the next day.

You know it perfectly, just as you stare at his annoyingly handsome face not looking at you. But here you are again, hungry for his attention.

“Jaemin, can you bring in the beer from the garage?” Your fiancé, Jeno, suddenly speaks up as he momentarily turns away from his conversation with Renjun. You snap your head in his way now, seeing him pointing at the garage door. Jaemin finally tears his eyes away from Haechan and looks at Jeno like everything is alright, immediately nodding at his request. As he stands up, he suddenly stops and walks back to him, bending down slightly to whisper something in his ear.

As you scan Jeno’s expression, he nods and gives him a pat on his shoulder. It makes you furrow your eyebrows together, quickly looking away from the scene and continue drinking your mocktail of the evening. But it doesn’t go in your way, it would be too easy.

“Baby, can you go with Jaemin? He doesn’t know where we usually keep the drinks.”

At your pet name, you freeze on the spot, the liquid in your mouth almost making you choke as you look up at Jeno again. He sweetly smiles at you, his attention halfly already back in the conversation going on on his side, trusting you that you can show him the way. Your stomach flips as you notice Jaemin smirking behind him, his hands still gripping the chair behind Jeno as he’s looking at you. His gaze roots inside you the longer he stills it on you, amused by your visibly frightened reaction at your fiancé’s request. But who are you to say no to him? This is exactly why Jaemin pretended to be dumb and nicely ask for some assistance from you, knowing that Jeno is too deep into something with Renjun.

“Please? I’m really into something here, baby.” Jeno pleads one last time as you nod your head and hesitantly stand up, seeing Jeno sending you a smile for helping his dear friend out.

When you stand up and walk around the table to get your way towards the door, you see Jaemin finally pushing himself away from the chair and following you swiftly, catching up behind you so close that you can practically hear his heartbeat. Your steps are calculated, your heart beating against your ribcage as you near the garage door, soon opening it with force so you can get over this quickly. As you open the door, the sudden cold and stale smell hits your nose while trying to find the switch to the lamp with your hands, the pitch black making you feel even more uneasy.

“Don’t worry, I got it.” Says Jaemin behind you, his hands immediately finding the switch in one swift motion, his body standing next to you radiating warmth in the room. As you slowly look up at him he sends you another smile, his hand now sliding down from the switch to catch your hand still on the wall. “Can you show me where the drinks are, princess?” He says lowly, biting down on his bottom lip as he can feel you shaking with nervousness, his hand catching your cold ones. “You’re so cold, baby. Do you want me to-”

“It’s over there, behind the shelves.” You cut him off as you push yourself away from him softly, now standing a few steps ahead of him. The door behind him is tightly shut, the light in the room flickering slightly as Jaemin’s body is still leaned against the wall. He looks like a dark fantasy in the shadows, his body alone making you dizzy as he’s just looking at you with dark eyes. Your rejection makes him let out a chuckle and step further away from the door, walking closer to you once again, but before you can blink, he’s walking toward the shelf you pointed to, his broad shoulder disappearing for a second.

As you’re left alone, you can let out the breath you holded in for so long, the air hitting your lungs immediately as you slowly step backwards towards the cold wall, your head already clearing out as the minutes passes.

“Uhm, they are not here, princess.”

Jaemin’s hesitating voice suddenly rings from behind the shelf, making you open your eyes and go around to find him looking down at the empty mini fridge in the corner. You furrow your eyebrows, stepping closer to examine the place but your eyes can’t find the searched drinks. “Hm, this is weird. We put it here when we arrived.” You vividly remember coming in the garage with Jeno to put away the drinks bought for tonight, the cold air still remaining in your memories too.

You look around once more, picking yourself up from the squatting position to stand next to Jaemin. “Well, I guess you’re not getting beer tonight.” You say as you stand up,but then you notice Jaemin’s body turned fully in your direction, his eyes boring into yours with desire. There’s that stupid smirk pitched on his mouth and your entire world is moulded around him again. You feel your heart pick up as he steps closer to you again, his head slightly tilted to the side.

“Jaemin..maybe we should go back to the others-”

“You want this.” He breathes, his eyes never leaving yours as you weakly look up into his. He visibly can see the denial on your face, eyebrows slightly furrowed together. “You get wet just thinking about this little game we’re playing behind your fiancé….you get wet just thinking about me,aren’t you, baby?”

His sentence only proves to you how goddam stupid you are.

You can hardly look into his eyes as the pictures of you stretched open and sore from the amount of times he has fucked you in different places flashbacks in your mind.It always takes you back when he praised you without hesitation the whole time he fucked into your pussy, until you were trembling and pleading for more. It was weeks ago since you last did it with him, your ache only can be soothed by him. You needed him and he knew it better than anyone.

“You don’t get it, do you?” He says finally, his eyes still looking down at your plump lips, his hand sneaking around your waist to grab, his body now fully pushing you against the wall. You struggle to breath, your chest touching his as you try to get air in your lungs again, thinking about how wrong this is. But it never happens, because Jaemin brings one finger up to caress your exposed neck. “You gave me a taste, baby. Don’t expect me to let go now.” He draws circles on your skin, his warm breath hitting your ear as his lips ghost above your shell.

“I see the way you look at me,you want me just as much as I want you.” He whispers, his words making you squeeze your eyes together like all this can disappear like it's magic. As you take another breath your breasts push against him again, making him groan out in agony, his hand on your hips pulling you even closer until you feel his hardened member pressing against you. Upon that, you can’t help but whimper, your shaky hands landing on his strong forearms.

“I’m not a temporary desire, baby.”

With that, Jaemin pulls you by the neck and kisses you, hungrily, and deeply. His tongue easily slides inside your warm mouth,teeths claddering together as saliva spills from the corner of your mouth. He pushes his body closer to your, his hips stuttering as he feels the friction between you finally reaching him, rubbing his clothed cock against you repeatedly.

“Jaemin, we shouldn’t-” You pull away from his chasing mouth, the air between you already hot enough to warm up the whole room alone. Letting your plea go past his ears, he continues to kiss your exposed neck, the delicate skin feeling delicious as he can feel the vibration against his lips caused by the moan you let out. There’s a wet spot soaking through your underwear by the time Jaemin finally takes his hand and slowly slides it under your dress. He groans when he feels the slickness soaking his fingers already, his head nuzzling more in the crook of your neck. “Fuck, sweetheart. You were this wet while sitting across from me? Dirty girl.” He pants into your ear as his hips can’t stop chasing the friction to ease the pain in his painfully tight boxers.

“Want me to fuck you tonight too, hmm?” Jaemin swipes his fingers against your puffy clit, making you buck against his hands for more. “Want me to fuck you in here while your husband is outside, not caring where we are?”

You gasp into the thin air as you feel him push two fingers in your seeping hole, your back arching off the wall, one hand landing in his black hair to grab on, other grabbing onto his wide shoulders. Jaemin groans against your skin at your touch, his lips finding yours again to quiet your moans. His other hand lets go of your grinding hips, sliding all the way down to his pants to quickly unbuckle his belt, dropping it to the floor with a heavy sound. His fingers move in out of you, involuntarily rooting in your wet, hot, fleshy core with a loud click of your moisture as he takes his already leaking cock out, slapping against your exposed thighs.

He continues to plunge his fingers in and out of you, his eyes scanning your already fucked out expression as he sees a string of saliva rolling down the side of your mouth. “That’s it baby, let me stretch you out.” He groans as he looks down at where his hand disappears, lifting the sundress to expose your wet cunt to the cold air, making him moan at the sight as your knees shake with anticipation.

“P-please….Jaem, just f-fuck me already..” You whimper out, your grip on him tightening as you reach your climax soon. You pull him in by his hair and kiss him hard, your tongue swiping over his bottom lip as you moan against his mouth, his body close to yours again. Jaemin moans into your mouth before taking his fingers out, making you immediately whine out at the empty feeling but then he swiftly grabs his cock and strokes it a few times before pushing his tip against your clit. The feeling makes you moan again, clenching around nothing but air as you can’t wait to welcome him inside your warm walls. “Fuck, you’re so fucking wet, princess.” He groans as he feels the slickness practically dripping down on his cock, his hands spreading your arousal around his shaft.

You can feel him lining himself up against your tight hole, pressing just enough to get you whimper out more pleas and whines.

“Say it.” He demands, his eyes hard on you again.

He sinks the first few inches inside your warm, tight walls, his dark eyes awake and boring into your trembling body.

“I hate this.” You whimper, your knees almost giving out as Jaemin hits that spot with simply a few inches.“I hate you.” You lie again, your mind clouded with his sex and voice as you throb around his tip. His chuckle makes you arch your back against the cold wall.

“Say it again while you’re cumming, princess.Want to see you make a mess of yourself.”

Thrusting forwards he stuffs his entire lengths inside you with one, rough stroke as you both moan out loud in the echoing garage.

“Ah–fuck! Jaemin-”

“That’s it, princess. Scream my name just like that.” He says, shoving one of your knees up higher his hips as he pulls entirely out, and then slams into your tight hole once again. “I’m gonna stuff this pussy with full with my cum baby, and when Jeno fucks you later tonight he can see I already satisfied you.” He grabs your leg tighter, his other hand finding your clit to draw fast and hard circles around it,making you moan out again.

“He can’t fuck you like I do, sweetheart. Nobody can.” Jaemin murmurs against your skin as leaves red, purple splotches on your neck and collarbones, his hips thrusting you harder against the wall as his tip hits your cervix. “You always come back. You always say this is wrong, but here you are again, stuffed with my cock with tears in your eyes, right baby?”

“J-Jaemin…mhpfm…please..” You try with a trembling voice, your nails leaving crescent moons on his skin, your other hand grabbing onto his har so hard you fear there will be strings in your palm.

“Yeah.” Jaemin smirks. “Keep saying my name when you go to bed with him. Come for me. Come on my cock.”

At Jaemin’s voice, however much you try to hold it in, you come around his throbbing cock inside you so much, that you almost feel lightheaded as you nuzzle your face into his neck. Your walls spasm around his thick member, your arousal spilling out around him onto the floor as Jaemin keeps grinding into your core to reach his own high. With a slightly open mouth, he pants against your ear as he feels the way you still wrap around him, your cum around him almost making him lose his head at the slippery and delicious feeling. But with one final thrust, you can feel him shooting ropes of white cum inside your flushed walls as he finishes his thrusts, his hips slowing down as the minutes pass.

You can’t help but wince when he pulls his cock out and the air hits your sensitive area again, feeling his finger already collecting the spilling out mixed arousals from your cunt, stuffing it all back with two fingers, making you moan again.

“Think you can sit like this all night?” He finally looks up into your eyes again, his smirk already in the corner of his mouth as he lets your leg fall from his hips.

At his question, you push his shoulder and fix your dress slightly. With a defeated expression, you look around the garage again. “What should we tell the others? The drinks disappeared, why did we take so long?” You look at Jaemin again, seeing him squatting down next to the fridge just to see him taking a whole tray of beers from behind the fridge. “Are you kidding me?” You gasp and push his shoulders again as he laughs at your expression.

Jeno’s head snaps in the garage’s way as soon as he hears it slam in once again, seeing the two of you walk out of there with flushed faces.

“Hey, did yall find the drinks?” He asks, his eyes glued on the two of you.

“Yeah man, but you gotta change the light in there. It was really creepy.” Jaemin pulls his chair out and calmly sits down, still trying to catch his breath as he takes a slow look at you.

“We almost didn’t find the beer.” He says with a small smirk, his head tilted to the side as you groan inside from his annoying acts.

i need him hello

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