#but somehow is more softer and caring too | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mssalo · 1 month ago

Text

ma'am

Joel Miller’s spent a lifetime in control, but under your confident lead, he’s discovered just how good it feels to let go. As your right-hand man in Jackson, he’s desperate to please, finding himself worshiping you in ways he’s never dared before—and loving every filthy second of it.

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, sub!Joel, dom!f!reader, oral (male and female receiving), nipple play (SUCKING JOEL’S NIPPLES like he deserves), premature ejaculation, dirty talk, praise kink, begging, desperation kink, Joel whimpering, explicit sexual content, mutual devotion, protective partnership, reader is emotionally supportive but firm, Joel finds comfort in being cared for (he’s babygirl) and Joel being so far gone it’s frankly adorable.

11k. enjoy.

part two: after hours

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

Joel Miller had always been the guy people turned to when things needed fixing—whether it was a busted fence, a tough decision, or clearing out a horde of infected, he was the dependable one. The solid one. The man who got things done without flinching.

But with you, it was different.

You weren’t like anyone else in Jackson. You’d arrived last winter, stepping into the town’s bustling life like you’d always belonged, and somehow, you’d made it your own.

People respected you—trusted you—not because you demanded it, but because you commanded it. You were sharp, resourceful, and unshakably confident.

Joel couldn’t decide if you reminded him of a soldier or a queen, but either way, it made his chest tighten every time you spoke.

It started innocently enough.

“Joel, we need these supplies moved to the north gate before sundown,” you said one day, standing by the depot, that calm, no-nonsense tone that made Joel’s stomach flip.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied without thinking, the words slipping out as easily as breathing.

You’d looked up, a flicker of amusement in your eyes. “Didn’t peg you for the ‘yes ma’am’ type,” you teased lightly, your lips curving into that small, knowing smile.

Joel had flushed, shifting on his feet like a boy caught stealing. “Guess it’s just… habit.”

You didn’t push, just nodded and turned back, but Joel couldn’t get the moment out of his head.

Something about the way you spoke to him—firm but never condescending, confident but never overbearing—lit something inside him he hadn’t felt in years.

Respect, maybe. Or something deeper, darker, and far more dangerous.

The more months you worked together, the worse it got for him.

“Joel, grab the shotgun and cover me,” you ordered one day, crouched behind a rusted-out truck as infected skittered through the woods ahead. Your voice was steady, even in the heat of the moment, and Joel’s chest swelled as he followed your lead without question.

Another time, while patrolling the perimeter, you had said, “Check the west side at dusk. Let me know if anything’s out of place.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Joel had answered automatically, his voice softer, almost reverent.

You didn’t always notice how easily he fell into step with you, how much he craved the way you trusted him to follow through.

But Joel noticed. Every damn time.

And it wasn’t just respect—though that was there too—it was something raw and magnetic. Something that made his chest tighten and his cock stir in ways that left him fumbling for composure.

It wasn’t just the way you spoke. It was the way you carried yourself. The way you moved through the world with confidence that was effortless, never forced.

You weren’t trying to prove anything to anyone—you just were. You called the shots when they needed calling, and people listened, not because they had to, but because they wanted to.

Joel wanted to. And more than that, he liked it.

One night, it all came to a head.

Jackson was quiet, the streets bathed in the soft glow of lanterns strung between buildings. Joel was walking back from the stables when he spotted you on the porch of the town hall, a map spread across the railing in front of you.

The way the light hit your face, catching on your jawline and softening your features, made his chest ache.

“Joel,” you called, your voice slicing through the stillness like a blade.

He froze for half a second before making his way over, his boots crunching softly on the gravel.

His pulse quickened as he got closer, his eyes darting over you—your loose hair falling over one shoulder, the curve of your wrist as you held the edge of the map, the faint furrow in your brow that he desperately wanted to smooth away.

“Everything alright?” he asked, his voice rougher than he intended.

You glanced up, your eyes meeting his. “Come take a look at this,” you said, motioning him closer.

Joel stepped up beside you, his shoulder brushing yours as he looked at the map.

The faint scent of soap and leather lingered on you, and Joel had to force himself to focus on what you were pointing at—a marked spot near the riverbank.

“Been seeing signs of movement out here the past couple nights,” you explained. “Could be nothing, but I want to clear it tomorrow. Need someone to back me up. You in?”

“Always,” Joel said immediately, his voice quieter than he intended but no less firm. His fingers brushed yours as he took the map, and he swore he felt a spark.

You smiled then—just a small curve of your lips—but it sent heat rushing through Joel’s chest. “Good. Be ready at dawn.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Joel murmured before he could stop himself.

Your brows lifted slightly, amusement flickering in your expression. “You don’t have to keep calling me that, you know.”

Joel rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks warming. “Can’t help it,” he muttered, his gaze sliding to the ground. “Suits you.”

Your smile widened just enough to make his heart stumble. “If you say so.”

With that, you folded the map, tucked it under your arm, and disappeared into the town hall, leaving Joel standing there like a damn fool, his chest tight and his jeans uncomfortably snug.

He swore under his breath, adjusting his stance in a futile attempt to ease the ache building low in his belly.

It wasn’t fair.

The way you got under his skin without even trying. The way you made him feel… lighter and heavier all at once.

Joel had spent his whole life being the one people leaned on, the one who carried the weight, and for once, he didn’t mind letting someone else take the reins.

Hell, he wanted to.

He wanted to follow you, to listen to you, to give you every ounce of control you asked for.

Joel stayed rooted to the spot, staring at the closed door of the town hall long after you’d gone inside.

His pulse pounded in his ears, the ache in his jeans growing unbearable as his mind replayed the last few moments—the way your voice curled around his name, the subtle command in your tone when you told him to be ready, the approving smile that lingered on your lips when he’d answered.

It was ridiculous, he thought bitterly, rubbing the back of his neck. He was a grown man, for Christ’s sake, and yet here he was, rock-hard in the middle of Jackson like some lovesick idiot.

His cock throbbed against the tight denim of his jeans, a constant, humiliating reminder of how badly he wanted you—how badly he needed you.

Joel swallowed hard, adjusting himself as subtly as he could manage, though the motion sent a shiver of frustration through him.

This was nothing new.

Every time he was around you, it was like his body betrayed him, reacting to the sound of your voice, the sway of your hips, the smallest flick of your wrist as you gestured for him to follow.

He couldn’t stop thinking about it—about you.

The way you carried yourself, confident and composed, made his chest tighten in ways that were equal parts admiration and raw, aching need.

You were everything Joel wasn’t. Steady. Collected. In control. And fuck if he didn’t crave that about you.

More than anything, he craved the way you made him feel. Like he could just… let go.

The thought sent a fresh jolt of arousal straight to his cock, and Joel bit back a groan, his hand clenching at his side.

He’d spent years—decades—being the man people turned to, the one who handled the tough shit without complaint.

But with you? He didn’t want to be the guy in charge.

He wanted to be the one following orders, wanted to be the one looking up at you, waiting for your approval.

He wanted to make you proud.

To hear you say his name the way you had earlier, with that faint hint of amusement, like you saw something in him that no one else ever had.

Goddamn it, he was pathetic.

Joel shook his head, muttering a low curse under his breath as he turned away from the town hall.

The walk back to his house felt like a blur, his thoughts too tangled to focus on anything but you.

Every step sent a dull throb through his cock, and by the time he reached his front door, his hands were trembling, his jaw tight with restraint.

Inside, Joel leaned heavily against the door, the cool wood pressing into his back as he exhaled shakily. His chest rose and fell in uneven waves, the pounding of his heart loud in the stillness of the house.

The faint creak of the floorboards beneath his boots reminded him he wasn’t dreaming, though he almost wished he were—wished the memory of you wasn’t so vivid it set his whole body on fire.

His jacket slid from his shoulders and hung limply on the hook by the door, but the ritual did little to calm him.

His hand lingered against the fabric, fingers gripping tightly for a moment as though holding on to it might anchor him. But there was no escape—not from the way you lingered in his thoughts, the way your voice echoed in his ears like a melody he couldn’t shake.

C’mere, Joel. I need you to check this.

C’mere, Joel….

The words played on repeat, the confidence in your tone, the subtle curve of authority behind every syllable.

The way you’d glanced at him tonight, your eyes catching his for just a second longer than necessary—it was enough to drive him insane.

Joel groaned softly, the sound rough and guttural as he pressed the heel of his palm against the stiff, aching bulge in his jeans.

“Jesus,” he muttered, shaking his head as if that might clear it. But it didn’t. It never did. He’d thought about you like this too many times to count.

Late at night, alone in the dark, his fist slick and tight around his cock, imagining you leaning over him, your voice a breathy, commanding whisper.

“Good boy, Joel. Just like that.”

It was the praise that undid him every time, the approval he ached for, that soft edge of control in your voice that made his chest tighten and his hips buck into his hand.

Joel’s teeth dug into his bottom lip as he pushed off the door, his steps hurried and uneven as he made his way toward the bedroom.

His body was hot, his skin flushed as he kicked the door shut behind him and leaned against it, his breath coming fast and shallow.

He didn’t bother with the lights. There was no point when the image of you burned so brightly in his mind.

His hands fumbled with his belt, the leather sliding free with a sharp hiss before he shoved his jeans down his thighs, kicking them aside.

His cock sprang free, thick and heavy, the tip already glistening with pre-cum.

Joel wrapped his calloused fingers around himself, his rough palm dragging slowly along the length as his head tipped back against the door.

A soft, broken groan escaped his lips, and he tightened his grip, savoring the sharp sensation.

“Yes,” Joel whispered hoarsely, his hips jerking into his hand as the thought took hold.

The image was so vivid it made his knees weak.

“On your knees, Joel. Let me see how much you want it.”

He imagined you standing over him, your hands on your hips, your lips curved into that wicked, knowing smile.

You’d look down at him like you owned him, and Joel would crumble beneath that gaze, his body desperate to obey.

His hand moved faster, his strokes rougher as his chest heaved. “Fuck,” he muttered, his voice thick and broken. “I’d do it. Anything you want, darlin’. Just… just fuckin’ tell me.”

And then, there was the fantasy he couldn’t shake. You’d guide him down—your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling just hard enough to make him hiss as you tilted his face up toward yours.

“You want to make me feel good, baby? Show me.” You’d press his face between your thighs, your warmth surrounding him, and Joel would lose himself.

He could almost feel it—the softness of your skin, the slick heat of your cunt against his lips. His tongue would trace slow, deliberate circles around your clit, savoring the way your body trembled beneath his mouth.

You’d moan his name, your voice breathy and broken, and it would be the only thing he cared about.

Joel groaned loudly, his hips jerking off the door as his hand tightened, the slick sound filling the room. “Please,” he rasped, his voice shaking. “Please, darlin’. Let me be good for you. Let me—”

He imagined you grinding against his face, your thighs clenching around his head as you guided him, demanding more. “That’s it, Joel. Just like that. Don’t stop until I come, baby.”

The thought of your approval, of hearing you call him a good boy as he worked tirelessly to please you, made his cock throb painfully in his hand. “I’d do it,” he muttered hoarsely. “I’d fuckin’ worship you, darlin’. Just say the word.”

The tension snapped, his body locking up as his release hit. Hot, thick spurts spilled over his hand, his voice breaking into a low, guttural groan as his hips jerked helplessly.

Your name fell from his lips, raw and reverent, as the pleasure coursed through him, leaving him trembling and spent.

For a long moment, Joel stood there, his chest heaving, his hand still wrapped loosely around his softening cock.

The air was thick with the scent of his arousal, the evidence of his need dripping onto the floor, and yet all he could think about was you. Your voice, your smile, the way you made him feel like he could let go of everything and just… be.

Joel swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he finally pushed off the door and reached for a towel.

He cleaned himself up quickly, his thoughts still tangled, his body still thrumming with the remnants of his release. But even as the tension faded, the ache lingered—the desperate, aching need for you.

For your voice. For your touch. For your approval.

And Joel knew he’d never stop wanting it. Never stop wanting you.

Because this wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. Not until he had you.

Not until he could hear you say his name the way he’d always dreamed, soft and breathless, your hands gripping his shoulders as you told him exactly what to do.

· · ───

The sun was barely cresting the horizon as you and Joel set out toward the riverbank, the chilly morning air biting at your cheeks. Joel kept a steady pace beside you, his rifle slung across his shoulder, his eyes scanning the dense treeline with practiced precision.

Despite the tension that always came with patrols, there was a comfort in your presence—a grounding force that he couldn’t quite put into words.

The faint scent of soap and leather lingered on you, familiar and steady, and Joel found himself stealing glances at you more than he should.

You walked with such assuredness, each step purposeful, and the soft sway of your hips had him swallowing harder than necessary.

He tried to focus, but your commanding presence made it impossible not to feel both overwhelmed and grounded.

“See this?” you murmured, crouching near a patch of disturbed dirt. Your voice was low, clipped, yet patient as you gestured for him to come closer. “Looks like someone’s been through here recently. More than one.”

Joel crouched beside you, his shoulder brushing yours as he examined the ground.

The way your hair caught the morning light, the subtle curve of your neck—it was too much. His chest tightened as he forced his gaze to the dirt and away from the way your lips parted slightly in concentration.

“Yeah,” he muttered, his voice rougher than intended. “Could be raiders.”

“Could be,” you agreed, straightening and adjusting the strap of your pack. “Let’s keep moving. Stay sharp.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Joel said before he could stop himself, the words slipping out instinctively.

You glanced at him, one brow arching, the barest hint of a smirk tugging at your lips.

You turned without a word, leading the way through the uneven terrain. Joel followed close behind, his pulse quickening with every step.

You always had this effect on him, like you were a magnet and he couldn’t help but be pulled in.

The ambush came fast.

Raiders poured from the treeline, their weapons raised, shouts breaking the morning quiet.

Joel moved on instinct, diving behind a fallen log and returning fire, but it was you who commanded the chaos with sharp, decisive orders.

“Joel! Left flank! Cover me!”

He obeyed without question, his rifle steady as he took down one of the raiders attempting to circle around.

Even in the heat of the moment, his eyes kept darting to you—how you moved like a ghost through the underbrush, your aim deadly, your composure unshaken.

But when one of them charged at your blind spot, Joel didn’t think. He moved.

The gunshot echoed like thunder as he dropped the man with a single shot.

You spun to face him, your eyes wide—not with fear but with something else. Relief? Gratitude? Whatever it was, it made his chest swell.

“Thanks,” you said, your tone steady despite the chaos. “But I told you—stay back.”

Joel gritted his teeth but nodded, ducking back behind cover as you finished off the last of the raiders.

When the dust settled, you stood amidst the wreckage, your rifle slung over your shoulder, your expression calm but sharp.

You scanned the area one last time before nodding.

“We’re clear,” you said, turning toward him. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Joel replied, though his arm burned where a bullet had grazed him.

He shifted, trying to hide the blood seeping through his sleeve.

Your eyes narrowed. “You’re hit.”

“It’s nothin’,” he muttered, brushing it off.

“It’s not nothing,” you snapped, stepping closer. Your hand grabbed his arm, firm but not harsh. “We’re done here. You’re going back to Jackson. Now.”

Joel stiffened, his jaw tightening. “I can keep goin’. I’m fine.”

You tilted your head, the corners of your lips pulling into a wry, almost dangerous smile.

“Joel,” you said, your voice low but laced with authority that sent a shiver down his spine. “Do I look like I’m asking?”

Joel swallowed hard, his pulse hammering in his ears. “No, ma’am,” he muttered, his voice quieter this time, almost reverent.

“Good.” Your fingers lingered on his arm for just a second longer than necessary, the heat of your touch branding him, before you turned toward the horses. “Let’s move.”

At the clinic, Joel sat on the cot, his shirt discarded, the gash on his arm raw and angry. He winced as the doctor worked, stitching the wound with quick precision.

But his eyes weren’t on the needle or the thread—they were on you, leaning against the doorway with your arms crossed, your expression unreadable.

“You’ll need to rest for at least a couple days,” the doctor said, tying off the final stitch. “No patrols, no heavy lifting.”

Joel opened his mouth to argue, but your sharp glance silenced him immediately.

“Got it,” you said curtly, nodding at the doctor. “Thank you.”

When the doctor left, you turned to Joel, your arms dropping to your sides as you stepped closer. “Let’s get you home.”

Back at his house, you guided him inside, your hand on his arm, your touch firm and steady.

Joel sank onto the couch with a groan, his body heavier than he wanted to admit. You moved with purpose, disappearing into the kitchen before reappearing with a damp cloth and a glass of water.

“You don’t have to—” he started, but you cut him off with a look that had him snapping his mouth shut.

“Let me,” you said, your tone leaving no room for argument.

You knelt beside him, pressing the cloth gently to his arm. Joel swallowed hard, his breath catching at the sight of you so close, your fingers brushing against his skin.

The faint scent of you—clean and sharp, with a hint of something sweet—filled his senses, and he had to clench his fists to keep from reaching out.

When you finished, you sat back on your heels, your eyes meeting his. “Joel,” you said softly, “why do you push yourself so hard?”

Joel looked away, his jaw tightening. “Don’t wanna feel useless,” he muttered. “Don’t wanna… be a burden.”

“You’re not a burden,” you said firmly, leaning closer, your voice carrying a weight that made Joel’s chest ache. “You’re the furthest thing from it.”

Joel’s eyes flicked to yours, his breath catching at the intensity in your gaze. “I just…” He hesitated, his voice breaking. “I just wanna be good for you. Wanna make you proud.”

You tilted your head, a slow, knowing smile curving your lips.

“You already are, Joel,” you murmured, reaching out to cup his face. Your thumb brushed over his cheekbone, and Joel leaned into your touch like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

Joel’s breath was uneven, his good hand curling into a fist on his thigh as he struggled to find the words.

You sat beside him on the couch, quiet and steady, your eyes on his face, your expression calm yet unreadable. It only made him more frantic.

“I—I can’t stop thinkin’ about you,” Joel stammered, his voice rough and breaking.

He rubbed a hand over his face, his palm trembling slightly as if he was trying to physically hold himself together.

“I need… I need you close. I don’t know what the hell I’m doin’, but I—I can’t keep this to myself anymore.”

Your lips parted slightly, but you didn’t speak. You just nodded slowly, your gaze unwavering, and it made him feel both exposed and comforted all at once. The tension in his chest was unbearable.

“I—dammit,” he muttered, his voice thick, his gaze darting everywhere but your face.

“I’m tryin’ to say it right, but I don’t—I can’t—I need you, alright? I can’t stop thinkin’ about you. About how you—how you’re always so damn steady, and you—”

He sucked in a shaky breath, his eyes finally locking on yours. They were glassy now, his vulnerability laid bare. “You make it easier, y’know? Just bein’ around you… I feel like I can breathe. Like maybe I ain’t so—so broken after all. And I… I need that. I need you.”

You tilted your head slightly, your lips curving into the faintest smile. It wasn’t teasing, wasn’t pitying. It was understanding, warm, and Joel swore it made his chest ache even more.

“Baby,” you murmured softly, the endearment sending a shiver down his spine. “You like me…romantically?”

Joel froze for a moment, his breath catching as your words settled over him. His lips parted, but all he could do was nod, the movement small and jerky, like he was afraid to admit it outright.

“Want to be good for me?” you asked, your voice a low, soothing hum.

Joel’s nod came faster this time, his breathing growing heavier as he leaned into you, desperate for something he couldn’t quite name.

You leaned in slowly, cupping his face with one hand, your thumb brushing over the rough stubble along his jaw.

Joel’s eyes fluttered shut as you pressed your lips to his, soft and lingering, and the low, guttural sound he made against your mouth was filled with need.

His hand reached out, gripping your waist as if anchoring himself to you, and his lips parted under yours, seeking more.

But just as he leaned into the kiss, you pulled back, your face still close enough that your breath mingled with his.

“Get better for me first, yeah?” you murmured, your thumb trailing along his jaw.

Joel’s eyes snapped open, his brows furrowing as he shook his head. “No, please,” he whispered, his voice rough and desperate.

“Please, I can’t—I’ve been waitin’ for so long. Please don’t make me wait anymore.”

You shushed him softly, your fingers sliding through his hair, and Joel practically melted under your touch, his body trembling with the effort to hold himself back.

“You’ll wait,” you said firmly, though your tone was still warm. “Because you’re mine, and I’m not about to let you go. But first, I need you strong, Joel. Need you rested. Yeah?”

Joel let out a shaky breath, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he nodded, though his grip on you didn’t loosen. “Alright,” he rasped, his voice barely audible. “Alright. But just… just promise me you’ll be safe.”

“Well…you know me, baby,” you whispered, your lips brushing against the crown of his head.

Joel’s breath hitched again, his arms wrapping around your waist, holding you close as if to prove to himself that you were real. And as the weight of the moment settled between you, he felt something he hadn’t in years—peace.

· · ───

Joel had never been good at resting, but being sidelined for days was pure torture.

His arm still kinda ached where the stitches pulled at the edges of the wound, but the pain was nothing compared to the gnawing anxiety that came from not seeing you.

Three days felt like a lifetime, and every hour that passed without you made his chest feel tighter.

You’d been on patrol since the crack of dawn, and Joel had spent most of the day pacing around his house, every creak of the floorboards setting his nerves on edge.

He hadn’t wanted to push his luck with the doctor or you, so he’d stayed home, but the absence of your presence was like a physical ache.

He’d heard the patrol schedule—you were checking the area near the riverbank, where the raiders had been sighted.

The thought of you out there, alone or with someone who wasn’t him, made his stomach churn.

Joel knew you could handle yourself—he’d seen it firsthand—but the idea of you in danger without him there to back you up was unbearable.

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, Joel couldn’t take it anymore.

His boots thudded against the wooden floors as he grabbed his jacket and rifle, the pain in his arm be damned.

If he didn’t see you soon, he was going to lose his mind.

The gates of Jackson were quiet, the air cool and crisp as Joel made his way toward the watchtower. A few guards gave him curious glances, but no one stopped him. He wasn’t exactly known for staying out of trouble, injured or not.

“Have you seen her?” Joel asked one of the guards at the gate, his voice gruff.

“Think she’s still out near the west ridge,” the man replied, tilting his hat back. “They were due back an hour ago, though.”

Joel’s jaw tightened. An hour ago. His grip on his rifle tightened as he set off toward the west ridge, his boots crunching against the gravel.

The relief was like a flood when he spotted you in the distance, your silhouette unmistakable against the fading light.

You were walking back toward the gates, your pack slung over your shoulder, your rifle in hand. Joel’s breath hitched at the sight of you, his steps quickening as he closed the distance between you.

“Where the hell have you been?” Joel barked, his voice harsher than he intended as he reached you.

You raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by his tone. “Patrol. Where I said I’d be.”

“You were late,” Joel muttered, his gaze sweeping over you, searching for any sign of injury. “Anything happen out there?”

“Couple of runners,” you replied, brushing past him toward the gate. “Nothing bad.”

Joel followed you, his chest tight as he struggled to find the right words. “You could’ve sent word. Let someone know you were runnin’ behind.”

You turned to face him then, your eyes sharp. “Joel, I’m fine. I’m more worried about why you’re out here when you’re supposed to be resting.”

“I was worried about you,” Joel admitted, his voice quieter now, though no less intense. “Didn’t like not knowin’ if you were okay.”

Your expression softened, and you let out a quiet sigh. “Joel, I told you I’d be back.”

“And what if somethin’ had happened?” Joel pressed, his voice growing rough. “What if—” He stopped, his jaw clenching as he looked away.

You stepped closer, your hand resting gently on his arm. “Hey,” you said softly, your tone soothing. “I’m here. I’m okay. And you need to trust that I can take care of myself.”

Joel’s eyes flicked back to yours, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly at the steadiness in your gaze. “I know you can,” he muttered. “Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna worry.”

You smiled faintly, squeezing his arm. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Joel huffed a laugh, the sound low and rough. “Ain’t what I meant, but… yeah, take it how you want.”

“Come on,” you said, nudging him toward the gate. “Let’s get you home. You’re not supposed to be out here.”

Joel wanted to argue, but the warmth in your voice and the steady grip on his arm made it impossible.

He let you guide him back toward his house, the tension in his chest slowly unwinding with every step.

The walk back to Joel’s house was quiet at first, the two of you falling into an easy rhythm. But as you neared the porch, Joel’s tongue loosened, and the floodgates opened.

“What was it like out there today? Was it quiet before the runners? Were they close? You eat somethin’? Drink enough water?”

You chuckled softly, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “Joel, I’m fine. I promise.”

“I know, I know,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, his steps faltering slightly as you led him inside. “Just… can’t stop thinkin’ about it. About you. Out there without me.”

His voice was rough, his words tumbling out so quickly he barely had time to filter them. “I mean, I know you’re capable—hell, more than capable—but I wasn’t there, and… I hate not bein’ there.”

You stopped just inside the doorway, turning to face him. Joel’s eyes darted over you, like he was trying to memorize every detail, his breathing uneven, his hands twitching at his sides as if he wanted to reach for you but didn’t quite dare.

“You’re rambling, Joel,” you said softly, your voice calm and steady as you reached up to cup his cheek.

Joel froze, his breath hitching at your touch, his wide eyes locking onto yours. “I just…” he began, his voice faltering. “I just—”

“Hush,” you murmured, your thumb brushing over his cheekbone. “I’m here. I’m fine. And I’m not going anywhere for another 4 days.”

Joel exhaled shakily, leaning into your touch like a man starved. “I know,” he rasped. “I know, but I can’t stop—”

You silenced him with a kiss, your lips soft and warm against his, and Joel melted beneath it, his whole body going taut before he relaxed into the moment.

His hands found your hips, tentative at first, then firm, gripping you like he was afraid you might disappear.

When you pulled back, his lips chased yours for a heartbeat before he caught himself, his eyes fluttering open. He looked dazed, his chest heaving, his pupils blown wide as he stared at you.

You smiled softly, the sound of his uneven breathing filling the space between you.

Joel’s lips parted as if to speak, but before he could, you leaned in and kissed him again, slower this time. His groan was low and deep, the kind that seemed to come from the very center of him, vibrating through your chest.

His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you closer, his need unmistakable.

When your lips parted and your tongue brushed against his, Joel whimpered—a sound so desperate, so raw, it sent a rush of heat straight through you.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly into the kiss, and Joel’s grip faltered for a second, his lips pulling into a shaky smile against yours.

“Why’re you laughin’?” he asked, his voice rough, his forehead pressing against yours as he caught his breath.

“You’re eager,” you teased, your hands sliding to his shoulders, feeling the strength there. “It’s sweet.”

Joel groaned again, his cheeks flushing as his hands smoothed up your sides. “Can’t help it,” he admitted, his voice dropping lower. “You’re drivin’ me crazy, darlin’. Been thinkin’ about this for too long.”

His gaze dropped, and his eyes darkened as they settled on the curve of your breasts, visible through the gap in your blouse.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his hands twitching like he wanted to touch but didn’t dare without permission. “You’re perfect.”

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head as you ran your fingers along his jaw. “Joel,” you said, your tone firmer now, and he immediately snapped his gaze back up to meet yours, his breath hitching. “What are you lookin’ at?”

His cheeks went even redder, but he didn’t look away.

Your lips quirked into a sly smile, and you reached up to unbutton the top of your blouse slowly, deliberately. Joel’s eyes tracked every movement, his throat working as he swallowed hard, his cock straining visibly against his jeans.

“You’ve healed up, huh?” you asked, your tone playful, and Joel nodded quickly, his hands shaking slightly.

“Barely feel it,” he murmured, his voice trembling with anticipation. “Please, darlin’. Please let me—”

You sighed dramatically, shaking your head as you pushed the blouse from your shoulders, revealing the smooth curve of your skin.

“Go ahead, Joel,” you said, your voice steady but laced with heat. “If you think you can handle it.”

Joel groaned, his hands finding your waist again, pulling you flush against him as his mouth crashed into yours.

His kisses were messy, desperate, his lips sliding against yours like he couldn’t get enough. His hands roamed your body, shaky but reverent, sliding up your ribs and hovering just below your chest.

“Eager little thing,” you murmured against his mouth, and Joel whimpered at the words, his hips pressing against yours as his arousal became undeniable.

“Can’t help it,” he breathed, his voice shaky and desperate. “Been wantin’ to get my mouth on you for so long. Wanna lick every inch of you. Fuck, those pretty nipples—been dyin’ to suck on ‘em, darlin’. Let me taste you, please.”

The way his voice cracked, the way he clung to you—it was enough to make your resolve waver. But you weren’t going to let him get off that easily. Not yet.

“Bed,” you whispered, pulling back just enough to guide him toward the bedroom. Joel followed without hesitation, his hands still on you, his body trembling with barely-contained need.

“Sit down, baby,” you murmured, your voice firm but teasing as you pushed him gently onto the mattress.

Joel sat immediately, lips wet and swollen from your kisses, his pupils blown wide as he stared up at you like you were a goddess he was desperate to worship.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his gaze flicking to your chest, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “You’re so goddamn beautiful.”

You stepped between his legs, running your hands up his thighs, feeling the way they trembled under your touch.

“Is this what you’ve been dreamin’ about, Joel?” you asked, your voice low and sultry as you leaned in close. “Me, standin’ over you like this, lettin’ you look your fill?”

Joel groaned, his head tipping back as his hips jerked involuntarily. “Yes,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Every night, darlin’. I—fuck—I think about you all the time. Can’t stop.”

You smirked, running your hands higher until your fingers brushed against the hard, throbbing bulge straining beneath his jeans. Joel’s breath hitched, his hips lifting slightly as if to chase your touch.

“Bet you’ve been strokin’ that cock to the thought of me, haven’t you?” you purred, your nails scraping lightly along his thighs.

“Thinking about my tits, my mouth, wonderin’ what it’d feel like to have me all over you?”

Joel let out a broken whimper, his hands gripping the edge of the mattress as he nodded. “Yes,” he rasped, his voice thick with desperation. “Fuck, yes. I think about you all the time—Drives me crazy.”

You laughed softly, Joel’s eyes focused, his chest heaving as he took in the sight of you, his gaze zeroing in on your breasts, the way your nipples pebbled in the cool air.

You reached up, cupping your breasts and squeezing them lightly, your thumbs brushing over your nipples. “Wanna taste them, baby? Wanna feel my tits in your mouth?”

Joel groaned loudly, his hands clenching into fists as his cock strained painfully against his jeans. “Please,” he begged, his voice breaking. “Please, let me—fuck, let me taste them."

You smirked, stepping closer and guiding his hands to your hips. “Go on then, baby,” you murmured, leaning in until your chest was level with his face. “Show me how much you want it.”

Joel didn’t need to be told twice. His hands slid up to your waist, pulling you closer as his mouth latched onto one of your nipples with a desperate groan.

His lips were hot and eager, his tongue swirling over the sensitive bud before he sucked it into his mouth, his teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp.

“Fuck, that’s it,” you murmured, threading your fingers through his hair and tugging lightly. “Good boy, Joel. Just like that.”

Joel whimpered against your skin, his hands sliding up to cup your breasts, squeezing them gently as he switched to your other nipple. His tongue worked in slow, deliberate strokes, his lips tugging and sucking as if he couldn’t get enough.

“Finally” he muttered against your skin, his voice muffled but no less desperate.

You chuckled softly, grinding your hips against his lap, feeling the hard line of his cock pressing against your thigh. “You’re so needy,” you teased, your voice dripping with satisfaction. “Can’t even keep your hands to yourself, can you?”

Joel shook his head, his mouth still attached to your nipple as he let out a low, guttural moan. His hands slid down to your hips, gripping you tightly as he rocked against you, his cock throbbing beneath the rough denim of his jeans.

“Can’t help it,” he rasped, his voice hoarse. “You’re all I think about. All I want.”

You leaned down, brushing your lips against his ear. “Then be a good boy for me, Joel,” you whispered, your voice low and commanding. “Keep sucking.”

Joel groaned, his hands tightening on your hips as his lips moved back to your breast, sucking and licking with renewed fervor. His hips bucked against yours, his need spilling out in every touch, every sound.

“You like these, baby?” you murmured, cupping your breast and brushing your thumb over your wet, glistening nipples. “My sweet boy likes them, hm?”

Joel froze for a moment, his pupils dilating as the meaning of your words sank in. His hips bucked sharply, and he let out a strangled moan, his whole body trembling beneath you.

“Fuck, I-,” he groaned, his voice cracking as his head fell back against the headboard. “Shit, darlin’, I’m sorry—I can’t… I’m—fuck!”

You felt the unmistakable heat and dampness spreading as Joel’s hips jerked one last time, his moans spilling into the quiet room. His face flushed a deep red, his chest heaving as he realized what had just happened.

“Shit,” he muttered again, his voice thick with embarrassment as he covered his face with one hand. “I didn’t mean to… fuck, I’m so sorry. This is so stupid—”

“Joel,” you interrupted, your voice firm but soothing as you brushed his hand away from his face. “Look at me.”

He did, his eyes wide and vulnerable, his lips parted as he struggled to catch his breath. The sight of him—flushed, desperate, and utterly wrecked—only made you want him more.

“It’s okay,” you murmured, your lips curving into a wicked smile. “I’m flattered, baby. You just couldn’t help yourself, could you? Had to come in your pants for me.”

Joel let out a choked sound, his hips twitching involuntarily beneath you.

“I… fuck, darlin’, you make me crazy,” he admitted hoarsely. “Can’t stop thinkin’ about you. I need you. Please… let me make it up to you.”

Your smile widened, and you leaned down, brushing your lips against his ear. “Still wanna keep going, baby?” you whispered, your voice dripping with mock sympathy. “After you’ve already made such a mess?”

Joel nodded frantically, his hands gripping your hips like a lifeline. “Yes,” he rasped, his voice breaking. “I don’t think I ever wanna stop, ma’am. Please… let me taste you. I’ll be so good for you, I promise.”

You pulled back slightly, tilting your head as you studied him, your expression unreadable.

Then, slowly, you smiled, your fingers trailing down his chest. “Undress me,” you commanded, your voice soft but firm.

Joel flushed, his hands moving to your waist again. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of your pants, his eyes flicking up to meet yours for permission.

You nodded, leaning back onto the bed as you let him guide the fabric down your legs, his touch careful but firm.

By the time your pants were off, you were sprawled out on the bed, your back resting against the pillows.

Joel knelt between your legs, his chest heaving as he stared down at you, his eyes drinking in every detail like he was trying to commit it to memory.

"You're beautiful," he said again, his voice breaking slightly as his fingers slid along the waistband of your panties.

Joel groaned low in his throat, his hands clumsy but desperate as he unbuttoned your pants and slid them down your legs.

He paused when he saw your panties, a visible wet spot already soaking through the fabric. His breath hitched, and he let out a shaky, “Fuck… look at that. So wet for me, darlin’. Goddamn.”

His hands trembled as he paused, glancing up at you for reassurance.

You smirked, one eyebrow arching as you propped yourself up on your elbows.

"Go on, baby," you murmured, your voice soft and encouraging. "You've got me all to yourself. Do what you've been dreaming about."

Joel’s hands hovered over your hips for a moment before he finally let them settle there, his thumbs brushing against the edge of your panties.

Joel settled between your legs like he was kneeling before an altar, his chest heaving and his fingers trembling as he slid along the waistband of your panties.

His eyes flicked up to yours, dark and wide with need, and you gave him the softest smile, threading your fingers into his hair as you gently tugged him closer.

“yeah, baby” you murmured, your voice dripping with encouragement.

His breath hitched, and he leaned down, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

He kissed you there, slow and reverent, his beard grazing your flesh and sending shivers through you. Each kiss was accompanied by a low, throaty groan, his lips moving steadily closer to the source of your heat.

“Jesus Christ,” he rasped, his voice breaking as he reached the edge of your panties. His nose pressed against the damp fabric, and he inhaled sharply, the sound guttural and desperate.

“Fuck, you smell so good, darlin’. Like heaven—sweet, wet heaven.”

His hands trembled as they gripped your thighs, holding you open as he buried his face against you, nuzzling and inhaling like he couldn’t get enough.

The rough fabric of his jeans rubbed against your calves, a sharp contrast to the warmth of his breath and the wet heat of his mouth against your panties.

“Been dreamin’ about this—about your sweet cunt for so fuckin’ long. Want it so bad, baby. Wanna taste you—wanna lick you, suck that pretty clit between my lips and drink you down till there’s nothin’ left.”

You moaned softly, your fingers threading through his hair and tugging gently, encouraging him.

“Yeah?” you whispered, your voice low and breathless. “You wanna eat me out, baby? Wanna show me how good that mouth of yours is? Then take them off.”

Joel knelt between your thighs, trembling as he slid your soaked panties down your legs.

He didn’t even try to hide the way his breath hitched when your cunt was fully exposed to him, glistening and perfect.

His chest rose and fell in quick, uneven breaths as he just stared for a moment, his lips parting like he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words.

“You just gonna look, Joel?” you teased, your fingers slipping into his hair and tugging gently. “Or are you gonna be a good boy and show me what you can do?”

That broke him. His head dipped instantly, his breath ghosting hot over your slick folds as he whispered, “Yes… yes, ma’am.” His voice was low, reverent, almost a prayer.

The first touch of his tongue was hesitant but deliberate, a slow drag from your entrance to your clit, as if he wanted to savor you.

He groaned into you, the sound muffled but deep, and then he leaned in further, pressing his mouth to your cunt like he couldn’t get close enough.

“Good boy,” you murmured, your voice soft but thick with pleasure. “Fuck, you’re so eager for it. Just like that.”

Joel didn’t answer—couldn’t answer.

He was too focused, his hands gripping your thighs to hold you open as he worked his tongue through every inch of your folds.

His breath hitched as he tasted you, his lips sealing over your clit for a moment to suck softly before his tongue returned to explore your entrance.

“Oh, baby,” you breathed, your hips arching slightly into his mouth. “You’re so fucking good at that. Look at you, so hungry for me. You love this, don’t you? Love worshipping my pussy.”

His only response was a desperate, muffled groan and moaning as he shifted his grip, spreading your thighs wider.

His nose pressed against your clit, and he rubbed it there as his tongue delved inside you, slow and deliberate, tasting you from the inside out.

His breathing was ragged now, warm puffs of air against your heat between each swipe of his tongue.

“Fuck yes,” he whispered hoarsely against you, his voice barely audible over the sound of his mouth working your cunt. “Fuck… taste so good. Yes. Yes, ma’am…”

You tugged his hair lightly, guiding him just where you wanted, and he followed without hesitation, his moans vibrating through your core.

His nose nudged your clit again, his tongue lapping at your entrance with long, languid strokes, and your moans filled the room, soft and breathy.

“That’s it,” you encouraged, your voice breaking slightly as he found just the right rhythm. “Such a good boy. Keep going, baby. Make me come.”

Joel groaned deeply, the sound muffled as he pressed his face impossibly closer to your core, his lips locking around your clit.

Each sound he made was guttural, desperate, like he was losing himself in the taste of you.

His hands gripped your thighs tightly, anchoring himself to you as his nose pressed against your folds, adding pressure in all the right places.

“Good boy,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you combed your fingers through his hair, guiding him exactly where you needed him. “Keep going, baby. Suck my clit just like that.”

Joel whimpered against you, the sound low and wrecked, and he obeyed without hesitation, sucking harder, his tongue darting out to flick over the swollen nub between pulls.

He groaned again, his hips shifting slightly as if he couldn’t help but grind against the mattress, completely undone by the act of pleasuring you.

Your breath hitched, your body trembling as the tension in your core tightened to an unbearable degree.

“Fuck, Joel—don’t stop. Don’t you fucking stop.”

He moaned louder at your words, his hands tightening on your thighs as he doubled down, his lips creating just the right amount of pressure while his tongue worked you mercilessly.

His nose nudged against your clit in rhythm with his sucking, the sensation pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Please,” he murmured against you between strokes, his voice trembling with need. “Wanna make you come, ma’am. Wanna feel you fall apart on my tongue.”

That was all it took. Your body tensed, your back arching as your orgasm slammed into you, waves of pleasure crashing through you so hard you couldn’t even form words.

Joel groaned against you, his tongue and lips relentless as he rode out your release, his moans vibrating through every sensitive nerve ending.

When you finally came down, your thighs trembling and your breath shaky, Joel slowly pulled back, his lips glistening and swollen, his face flushed and eyes glazed with pure adoration.

He looked like a man on his knees at the altar of a goddess.

“perfect,” he whispered, his voice wrecked, his gaze fixed on your blissed-out expression.

“Did I do good?” he asked quietly, his voice raw and hoarse.

You smiled, brushing your fingers over his cheek. “Better than good, baby,” you murmured. “Fuck.”

Joel’s eyes darted to yours, wide and full of something raw and pleading.

He leaned in again, his lips brushing against your inner thigh as he spoke, his voice trembling with need. “Please… can I keep goin’? Just a little more. I don’t wanna stop. Wanna taste you again, ma’am.”

His mouth found your clit in a featherlight kiss, his tongue flicking out experimentally, careful and reverent as though seeking permission.

His hands slid up your thighs, holding them open like you might change your mind.

“Joel,” you said, your voice soft but firm, your hand threading into his hair and tugging just enough to stop him. “No, baby. I wanna feel you now.”

Joel froze, his breath hitching, and he whined softly against your skin, the sound almost pitiful. “But—” he started, his lips pressing to your clit again in a desperate, fleeting kiss. “I can make you come again. Please, I—”

“Joel.” Your voice was sharper this time, not cruel but commanding. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, his lips glistening and his pupils blown wide. “You’ve been so good, baby, but I want you now. Don’t make me ask twice.”

The words sent a visible shudder through him. He hesitated for half a second before pulling back reluctantly, his lips parted as if to protest but no words came out. His hands lingered on your thighs, squeezing gently as he swallowed hard.

“Yes, ma’am,” he finally said, his voice low and hoarse, the respect and submission in his tone sending a fresh wave of heat through you.

He sat back on his heels, his eyes never leaving yours as he waited for your next command.

You leaned up slightly, cupping his cheek with one hand, your thumb brushing over his flushed skin. His lips were parted, breathless, as if he couldn’t quite believe this was happening.

“You’ve done so well, baby,” you murmured softly, letting your other hand trail down his chest. “But I need to see all of you. Let’s get this off.”

Joel’s breath hitched, his wide eyes locking onto yours as you reached for the buttons of his shirt. “Yes,” he whispered, the words shaky and reverent, like he couldn’t believe he was allowed this moment.

One by one, you undid the buttons, the fabric parting to reveal the broad expanse of his chest.

You slid the shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall to the bed as you sat back to admire him.

Your gaze swept over the planes of his body—the strong curve of his shoulders, the scars that marred his skin, the soft dusting of hair on his chest.

“Fuck, Joel,” you murmured, your voice full of heat and awe. “Look at you. You’re beautiful.”

His cheeks turned a deep red, and he looked away, swallowing hard. “Don’t know about that,” he mumbled, his voice low and unsure.

You leaned forward, your hands sliding over his chest, your thumbs brushing along the ridges of his scars.

“Oh, I do,” you purred, your tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re fucking perfect, Joel. Every inch of you.”

Your fingers grazed his nipples, and Joel froze, his breath catching audibly. The faintest shiver ran through his body, and he let out a soft, shaky, “Ma’am…”

You smirked, leaning in closer. “Sensitive, huh?” you murmured, circling the hardened peaks with your thumbs.

Joel let out a broken gasp, his hips jerking into the air as his hands gripped the sheets beneath him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his voice low and desperate. “Didn’t… didn’t know I -.”

“You didn’t?” you teased, leaning down to press a soft kiss to one nipple before flicking your tongue over it. Joel’s reaction was instant—a guttural moan that sent a wave of heat straight through you.

“Sweetheart I-” he gasped again, his hands trembling as they hovered near your waist, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you. “I—fuck, I—”

“Hush, baby,” you whispered, shifting to his other nipple and sucking it into your mouth.

Joel cried out, his head falling back against the pillows as his chest arched into your touch.

His hips bucked again, and you could feel how hard he was, straining against the confines of his jeans.

“Fuck,” he whimpered, his voice trembling. “I didn’t know… didn’t know I could feel this good. Please, don’t stop.”

You hummed against his skin, your tongue teasing over the sensitive bud before you nipped at it gently. Joel’s whole body jerked, a sharp gasp escaping his lips.

“You’re so sensitive, baby,” you murmured, sitting back to admire the way his chest heaved, his eyes wide and glassy. “Bet no one’s ever touched you like this before.”

Joel shook his head frantically, his hands gripping the sheets so tightly his knuckles turned white. “No,” he breathed. “Never. Fuck, it’s—ma’am, it’s so good.”

You let your hands drift lower, tracing the sharp lines of his ribs and the soft curve of his stomach. Joel’s eyes fluttered shut, and he let out a shaky moan as your fingers teased the waistband of his jeans.

“You want more, baby?” you asked softly, your voice teasing and full of promise.

Joel nodded frantically, his voice barely above a whisper as he rasped, “Please… please, ma’am. Anything you want.”

You hooked your fingers into the waistband of his jeans, slowly pulling them down along with his underwear, your eyes drinking in the sight of him as he was finally exposed.

Joel’s cock sprang free, flushed and thick, the head an angry, swollen red and glistening with his earlier release.

Pearly streaks of cum had smeared down his shaft, pooling at the base and even dripping onto his balls. You let out a low hum of approval, your lips curling into a wicked smile.

“Such a mess,” you tutted, your voice thick with teasing affection. “You’ve really made quite the mess, baby.”

Joel’s chest heaved, his breath coming in shaky gasps as he avoided your gaze, his embarrassment clear. But his hips jerked slightly, almost involuntarily, at the heat in your voice.

“Aw, don’t get shy on me now,” you teased, your fingers curling gently around his cock, feeling the slickness of him against your palm.

“This is nothing to be embarrassed about. It just shows how much you need me.”

Joel whimpered, his voice breaking as he finally met your eyes. “I… I can’t help it,” he admitted hoarsely, his voice trembling. “You make me—fuck—you make me crazy.”

Your thumb stroked up the length of his shaft, smearing the sticky remnants of his cum before circling the sensitive head.

“I know, baby,” you cooed, your voice softening just a touch. “And I love how desperate you get for me. Let me clean you up first, okay? Can’t leave my good boy all messy like this.”

Joel nodded frantically, his lips parting as a shaky moan escaped him. “Yes, ma’am,” he whispered, his voice thick with submission.

You leaned down, your tongue darting out to trace along the underside of his cock, starting at the base where his cum had pooled and slowly working your way up.

The taste of him was intoxicating, salty and musky, and you let out a quiet, pleased hum as you licked him clean. Joel’s entire body trembled beneath you, his hands gripping the sheets tightly as he struggled to stay still.

“Fuck,” he gasped, his voice barely above a whisper. “Ma’am… oh, fuck…”

You didn’t stop, your tongue swirling around the head of his cock, collecting every drop of his release before moving lower.

Your lips closed around one of his balls, sucking gently as your hand continued to stroke him, coaxing soft whimpers and gasps from his lips.

His thighs trembled, his breath hitching as you moved to the other, lavishing it with the same attention.

“You taste so good, Joel,” you murmured, your voice low and sultry as you pulled back slightly to admire your work. “Such a pretty cock, too. Look at you, all clean and perfect for me now.”

Joel moaned loudly, his head tipping back as his hands clenched the sheets even tighter. “You’re—fuck—you’re perfect,” he stammered, his voice cracking. “I don’t deserve this.”

You grinned, your fingers brushing along the length of his cock, your touch light and teasing.

“You deserve every bit of this,” you said firmly, your voice dipping into a commanding tone. “You’ve been such a good boy for me, haven’t you? Letting me take care of you like this.”

Joel’s hips jerked against your hand, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he nodded frantically.

“Yes,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Yes, ma’am. Please… please don’t stop.”

You leaned in again, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his cock, your tongue flicking out to tease the sensitive slit.

“You want more, baby?” you murmured, your voice dripping with seduction. “Want me to make you feel even better?”

Joel’s eyes fluttered open, his gaze locking onto yours as he nodded, his desperation palpable. “Please,” he rasped, his voice breaking. “I’ll do anything. Just… please let me feel you.”

You smiled, soft and knowing, before leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. “Anything, huh?” you teased, your voice low and dripping with promise. “Then show me, Joel. Show me how much you want this.”

Joel’s hands trembled as he gripped your hips, helping you straddle him. His cock pressed against your slick heat, and he groaned deeply, the sound vibrating through both of you.

His eyes flicked between your face and where your bodies were about to join, his chest heaving with anticipation.

“Don’t make me wait,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and wrecked. “Please, ma’am. Let me feel you.”

You reached down, guiding him to your entrance, your breath hitching as you slowly sank down onto him.

The stretch was delicious, the thickness of him filling you completely, and you couldn’t help the moan that spilled from your lips.

“Fuck, Joel,” you gasped, your hands bracing on his chest. “You feel so good, baby. So big—.”

Joel’s head fell back against the pillows, his lips parted as a choked moan escaped him.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, his voice shaky. “You’re so tight, so fuckin’ perfect. Feels like heaven, darlin’. I—fuck—I can’t believe this.”

You rocked your hips slowly, letting yourself adjust to the feel of him before setting a steady rhythm.

Joel’s hands gripped your waist, his fingers digging into your skin as he bucked up to meet you, his movements desperate and hungry.

“Good boy,” you murmured, your voice low and commanding as you leaned over him, your lips brushing against his ear. “That’s it, Joel. Let me take care of you. Let me give you what you need.”

Joel whimpered beneath you, his hips stuttering as he clung to you.

“You’re… you’re so fuckin’ good to me,” he rasped, his voice cracking with emotion. “The way you—fuck—the way you handle everything. The way you handle me.”

You tilted your head, studying him with soft affection as your hips moved steadily against his.

“Finally can let go, hm?” you murmured, your tone soothing yet commanding. “Yeah? Let me take care of you, Joel. You don’t have to worry so much.”

Joel’s eyes squeezed shut, his breath hitching as his hands slid up to cup your waist, holding you like you were his lifeline.

“Fuck,” he moaned, his hips bucking harder into you. “I—I worry about you, darlin’. But… but it’s an honor to. Always an honor.”

Your heart clenched at his words, and you leaned down to kiss him deeply, swallowing the desperate sounds spilling from his lips.

His thrusts grew erratic beneath you, his chest heaving as he neared the edge.

Joel’s hands gripped your waist tighter, his fingers digging into your skin like he was afraid to let go.

His breath came in short, ragged bursts, and his hips moved with a frantic rhythm beneath you, desperate and unrelenting. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, your body moving in perfect sync with his.

“You’re so fucking good, Joel,” you murmured against his lips, your voice heavy with affection and desire. “So perfect, baby. Keep going—don’t stop.”

His head tipped back, exposing the vulnerable curve of his throat, a choked moan escaping his lips.

“I—I can’t—fuck, darlin’,” he gasped, his voice trembling with raw emotion. “You feel so goddamn good. Can’t… can’t hold on much longer.”

You cupped his face, bringing his gaze back to yours, your thumb brushing over his flushed cheek.

“You don’t have to hold on,” you whispered, your voice a soothing command. “Let go for me, Joel. Let me feel you.”

Joel’s eyes widened, his pupils blown, and his hips snapped up into you with desperate force.

“You’re—God, you’re everything,” he groaned, his voice breaking as his hands slid up your sides, trembling as they roamed over your body. “Everything, darlin'. Don’t wanna stop… don’t wanna lose this.”

“You’re not gonna lose anything,” you reassured him, your own voice breathy and uneven as you rocked against him harder, the friction pushing you closer to your own edge. “I’m here, Joel. Always. Now, give it to me, baby.”

Joel’s body tensed, his back arching off the bed as a guttural moan tore from his throat.

“Fuck!” he cried, his hands gripping your hips as his release hit him, his cock pulsing inside you with a heat that sent you spiraling.

The intensity of his climax triggered your own, your body tightening around him as waves of ecstasy crashed over you.

Your cries mingled with his, the room filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure, raw and unrestrained.

Joel’s hips stuttered beneath you, his movements slowing as he rode out the last shuddering waves of his orgasm. His hands loosened their grip on your hips, sliding up to cradle your back as he pulled you down against his chest, holding you close.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the only sounds in the room your labored breathing and the faint rustle of the sheets. Joel’s fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin, his chest rising and falling beneath you as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“You’re… you’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice hoarse but filled with awe. “I don’t deserve you, darlin’. Don’t deserve any of this.”

You lifted your head, brushing your lips against his with a tenderness that made his breath hitch. “You deserve it all, Joel,” you murmured, your voice steady but warm. “Every damn bit. You’re good to me—you’re good for me.”

Joel’s eyes searched yours, shining with an emotion he couldn’t quite name but didn’t want to hide. His arms tightened around you, his lips brushing your forehead in a lingering, reverent kiss.

"Now rest up. We’ve got work to do.”

· · ───

From then on, you and Joel became Jackson’s most formidable pair. Whether it was managing patrols, handling disputes, or protecting the town, people knew better than to question the two of you. Joel was your rock, steadfast and loyal, while you were the sharp, commanding presence that kept everything moving forward.

He was at your side for every decision, every challenge, always watching your back—and stealing those quiet moments when it was just the two of you. Joel wore his pride in you like a badge, unspoken but deeply felt, in the way his gaze lingered and his touch steadied you.

And every night, as the world outside grew dark, you both found solace in each other—a partnership built on trust, strength, and the kind of love that didn’t need words to be understood.

Joel always said it best in his own way: “Ain’t nothin’ in this world I wouldn’t do for you, darlin’. Always.”

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

I am not beta reading all of that so if y'all find any errors tell me or ignore them like I did the past 22 years. Hope this was fun for you - please comment your opinions (plsplspls). I kinda feel like this is too long idk-

love youuuuuu

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greengoblinswifey · 9 days ago

Note

girl we need more fics about inho pls your writing is soooo good 😮‍💨

You Belong With Me— The Front Man/Hwang In Ho x Fem!Reader

summary— The Front Man grows protective of you and removes you from the game, keeping you safe in his private quarters. A deep emotional connection forms between you and your bond deepens in more ways than one.

warnings— age gap(reader is 20, he’s in his 40s), fingering, oral(m!receiving), praise kink, hair pulling, unprotected sex, creampie.

a/n— thank you, hope you like this <3

In the dead of night, you woke to the rough grip of two guards hauling you from your bunk. You tried to scream, but a hand clamped over your mouth, silencing you. They pulled you down the cold hallways, the walls echoing with the sounds of their pants and your cries. You had no idea what was happening until they stopped before a door you hadn’t seen before. The guards pushed it open, and standing on the other side was Hwang In-ho, the Front Man, the one they had told you they were taking you to. He looked down at you in his mask, unreadable expression, his voice cold and commanding as he spoke.

“You voted out,” he said, his voice steady, “but the majority has decided to stay. You won’t be going back. You’re staying with me now.”

Confusion flooded your senses. You’d voted out to escape the nightmare, but now you were here, in front of him. The air shifted as he noticed your fear, before he spoke again, “You’re safe now. No one will hurt you.”

The guards released their hold on you, but you didn’t move. Fear kept you rooted to the spot. “I don’t understand,” you whispered, the words trembling on your lips. “Why me?”

In-ho’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, then his tone shifted, becoming softer but more firm. “Because I won’t let anything happen to you.” He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming. “You’re too precious to be out there with them.”

You stayed quiet, still unsure of what was happening, but something about his words made your heart race—not from fear, but from the strange pull he had on you. He was being protective, almost possessive, and it made no sense. But you were too tired to fight it, too drained from everything you had already been through.

For the following days, you remained with him. In-ho wouldn’t let you return to the game. You slept in his room, far removed from the others, under his watchful eye. Every time you tried to ask why, he would simply tell you, “You’re safe here. No one will harm you.”

He never let you out of his sight for too long. During the days, he would be nearby, always watching, ensuring you were comfortable. His protectiveness only deepened as you became more and more accustomed to your new life under his care. You didn’t argue, after all, there was something oddly comforting about his presence, even if it unsettled you at the same time.

One evening, as you rested on the bed, In-ho approached you. His mask was off, and his sharp features were illuminated by the dim light. He crouched beside you, his dark eyes scanning your face making your breath hitch.

“You’ did well,” he said, his voice low and almost soothing. His fingers reached up, gently brushing a few curls from your face, tucking them behind your ear. The simple gesture was so intimate. He was so close now, his warmth radiating off him as he spoke again, his voice barely a whisper. “I’ve kept you here because you belong with me, away from them.”

His fingers lingered on your hair, his touch soft but firm. You didn’t pull away. Somehow, his proximity, the way he seemed so protective of you, had a strange pull. “No one will ever touch you again,” he added, possessively. His eyes never left yours, and there was a coldness in his tone that let you know he meant every word.

A part of you wanted to resist, to ask more questions, to demand to be let go. But the way he spoke to you, the way he cared for you, made it hard to find the strength to push him away. He hadn’t hurt you, not like the others. Instead, he had kept you safe.

“I don’t want you to go back,” he said softly, brushing his thumb across your cheek, “You’re my sweet little angel. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You looked up at him, not sure how to respond. But with him, the world felt a little less dangerous. The game, the chaos, seemed far away, as if they didn’t matter here, in his presence.

“You’re not going back,” he repeated, his voice firm, yet his gaze softened. “Not while I’m here. You belong with me.”

And in that moment, you understood that there was no escaping this, no going back. You were his now, and he wasn’t going to let you go. You stayed by his side, no longer a part of the game, but under his protection, whether you wanted it or not.

He leaned down, his presence overwhelming as his lips brushed against yours. It was soft at first, a gentle, almost hesitant kiss, like he was testing your response. You felt his body against you, his hands slowly moving to your back, pulling you closer. The touch felt unfamiliar yet comforting, and after everything that had happened, you melted into it, craving the sensation of being cared for, of being wanted.

His lips trailed down to your neck, and you gasped, the contact sending a shiver down your spine. He paused for a moment, his breath hot against your skin, before finding that sensitive spot just below your ear. A small hum of satisfaction left his lips as he nipped softly at your skin. His hand, still firmly on your back, slid lower, his fingers brushing against your waist before moving gently, teasingly lower and into your panties.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmured. “So wet already, just for me.”

You felt his fingers rub gentle circles on your swollen clit, his touch light but electric, making your breath hitch. He paused, as if waiting for your response, his eyes searching yours for permission. “Just let me make you feel good,” he whispered, his voice tender yet firm. “It’s just us here. You can trust me.”

You felt a thick finger slip inside your pussy, the action making you press your lips together so you wouldn’t make a sound. He chuckled then moved back to your neck, licking and nipping as his fingers explored your pussy.

“Your pussy gets wet for strangers, doesn’t it?” he teased.

You whined and hid your face in his neck but he used his free hand to tilt your head to look up at him.

“I’m only teasing angel, and you’re my kind of woman either way,” he murmured.

His finger began thrusting and curling, finding the spongy spot inside you that had you writhing underneath him. He used a thumb to rub circles on your clit, the pleasure unlike any other you had felt. You grabbed his hand, as he increased the pace, feeling something build inside you. Were you really about to cum for him? He slipped another finger inside, curling and thrusting as the sound of your wet pussy filled your ears.

“Cum for me sweetheart, be my good girl,” he said.

You weren’t sure what you wanted anymore, but there was something in his gaze, something comforting in the way he pleasured you, that made it easy to let go and cum for him. The world outside seemed to disappear, leaving just the two of you in that moment, where you could be pleasure and safe all at once.

“F-feels so good,” you finally whispered, your orgasm taking ahold of you.

“I know baby, I know,” he retorted, “I can make you feel even better.”

In that moment you didn’t know what he meant. What you did know was that you wanted to make him feel good too. Return the favor in the only way you could.

You could feel his gaze burning into you as you gently unbuttoned the top he had given you to put on that day, your heart racing. You paused for a moment, looking up at him, feeling a slight hesitation. His voice was calm. “Are you sure?” he asked, his eyes soft but intense.

You nodded, keeping your eyes locked with his, your breath catching in your throat. “Yes,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in your chest.

Slowly, you let your movements flow as you continued to undress, your fingers trembling slightly, but you felt a rush of anticipation. “You look beautiful,” he murmured, his voice almost a growl as he took in every detail of your naked body.

You moved closer to him, your eyes never leaving his as you slowly began to unbutton his shirt. The action felt intimate, yet there was something thrilling about it. His breath hitched slightly as your hands moved lower, and you felt the heat of his body against yours as you slowly began to undress him.

“You're incredible,” he said softly, his voice filled with admiration. As you knelt before him, your gaze remained locked with his, and you felt a surge of confidence. His hand gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing across your cheek. “You're so beautiful,” he repeated, his voice filled with awe.

He took off his boxers, his hard cock springing free in front of your face. He was so big and thick, the biggest you’d ever seen. With shaky hands you took ahold of him, slowly stroking as his eyes fluttered shut. You spat on the tip, using your thumb to spread your saliva along with the pre cum that had oozed out.

“That’s it, you’re a fucking natural,” he praised.

With your eyes on his, you slowly wrapped your plump lips around him, taking him into your mouth. You slid your tongue along his girth, suctioning your lips to give him the utmost pleasure. He hit the back of your throat and you let him settle there for a second before sliding your lips back up to the tip.

“Fuck, that’s it, just like that,” he moaned.

You licked the tip, savoring the taste of the salty pre cum before slowly taking him half way. “All the way down,” he growled. You went lower, taking his cock into the back of your throat as his fingers tangled in your curls. You began bobbing your head, breathing through your nose as your eyes teared up. He stared down at you, his lips apart as his breathing grew heavier. You were a sight for sore eyes, curls framing your face, tears brimming your eyes, pre cum and spit dripping down your chin and your mouth full.

“You look so beautiful like this, such a good cocksucker,” he murmured.

At his praises you began bobbing your head faster, sliding your tongue all over his shaft. Each time you went down, the tip slammed against your tonsil and he let out breathy moans that made your pussy throb.

“Fuck angel, I’m gonna cum in that pretty mouth,” he groaned.

Your hands went to his heavy balls, massaging them then moving down to take each into your mouth before moving back up to his cock and sliding your lips across the shaft.

“Here it comes, take all my cum in your mouth like a good girl sweetheart,” he said.

You suckled on the tip, stroking the base as you felt the unmistakable feeling of his hot cum shooting in your mouth. You stroked him through it then took him down your throat, swallowing his cum.

“Good girl, such a good girl,” he cooed.

He pulled you up, his hands immediately all over your naked body as he kissed you. He flipped you over so that he was on top of you, his dark eyes piercing yours. He leaned down once more, his lips pressed against yours then his tongue slipped inside your mouth. As his tongue sucked on yours, you felt his hard cock press against your pussy.

“Reach down and put my cock inside you,” he panted.

You did as you were told, your bottom lip going between your teeth at the pure intimacy of the moment. You took ahold of his shaft, dragging it up and down your folds as you moaned before pressing it inside your hole. Just the tip of his cock inside made you feel full and you gripped his bicep to ground yourself.

He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear as his cock deepened. “Tell me how good it feels,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. You could feel your orgasm building inside you, and though every inch of your body was alive with pleasure, you focused on him.

“It feels so good,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. He moaned softly, his hands gripping your waist tighter, guiding you with each thrust.

His lips trailed over your skin, kissing your neck, his teeth grazing gently as he picked up the pace. “You’re perfect,”’he murmured between kisses, his hands never leaving your body, his touch firm but gentle. “So responsive. I can't get enough of you.”

He kissed you deeply, his lips taking control, his tongue gently exploring as he moved above you. Each thrust brushed against your g spot and sent a shiver down your spine, you responded instinctively, your hands gripping his back as your body arched toward him. The rhythm of his movements was steady but increasingly intense, and every thrust felt more intimate than the last.

“Cum for me,” he urged, his voice husky. “I need you to cum on my cock.”

Your nails dug into his strong arms and he held you close, your pussy soaking his cock as your release washed over you. He kissed your forehead, guiding you through your high as you let out soft whimpers.

As he hovered above you, he whispered softly, “Get on your hands and knees.” His hands brushed your back as you obeyed, fingers lingering as he praised you for how perfect you were, how much he appreciated every moment with you.

“You’re amazing,” he murmured, his tone dripping with admiration as he watched his cock disappear inside you. “I’ve never felt a pussy like this.”

His hands moved to your hair, fingers tangling in the coils as he pulled you closer, not in a harsh way, but with a sense of possession, as if he were claiming you. Each time his cock disappeared inside your pussy, you couldn't help but moan softly at how deep he was at this angle, the sensation of his cock sending waves of pleasure through you.

“You feel so good,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. His hands roamed, squeezing your ass, the praise never stopping, and it only made you ache for more. “I can't get enough of you.”

The combination of his words and the feeling of him so close to you made your body tremble, your moan louder this time, unable to contain the pleasure that built up within you. “You feel incredible,” he murmured again, his touch firm, guiding your ass back to meet his thrusts. He watched as your ass bounced against him, you were so sexy. A masterpiece.

You could hear him breathe deeply as he continued, his admiration never wavering. “You’re everything I’ve wanted,” he whispered.

He rolled his hips to meet your ass then leaned in closer, his breath brushing against your ear. “Cum with me,” he whispered.

You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to be enveloped in the moment and you couldn’t hold back anymore. You creamed all over his cock, feeling a wave of warmth and satisfaction wash over you. Right after, you felt his cum fill your pussy.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered, his voice full of adoration as he collapsed on the bed and pulled you close. “You’re perfect,” he said, his hands brushing your curls back from your face, caressing you softly. His touch was possessive, yet kind, as if he wanted to protect you from everything.

“You belong with me,” he whispered.

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paarksunghoon · 4 months ago

Text

FIXED COMFORT | SUNGHOON

SUMMARY: typically, sunghoon’s the one who takes care of you when you’ve had one too many. but once in a blue moon, he lets his guard down and allows you to care for him the way he does for you.

or, the one where sunghoon’s drunk at a bar and misses his girlfriend a little too much.

NOTES: idk I just feel like someone should let him sleep for six months straight!!!

PAIRING: sunghoon x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 4.4K (4444 exactly—she’s a shortie).

WARNINGS: fluff on fluff on fluff.

***

“Hey, do you think you could come get Sunghoon from the bar? He’s been asking for you for the past hour.”

Jay’s phone call pulls you out from a deep slumber on a Saturday night that falls on a day with no plans other than pure relaxation. Sunghoon had been preoccupied with work and classes this past week and wanted to unwind by drinking at his favorite bar with his closest friends and all you wanted to do was sleep the weekend away.

Since the two of you started dating six months ago after being friends for a little over two years, you both agree on the notion that you’ve found a good balance between time spent together and apart respectively. Nothing fundamentally changed with the exception of kissing and touching one another in the way a couple would. He still respects your independence and you respect his time away from you as well.

Sunghoon learned quickly that you’re the type of person who values your alone time more than anything else. When he first started developing feelings for you, grappling with your absence wasn’t easy. He initially thought you weren’t interested in getting to know him the way he was with you because you weren’t afraid to decline invitations and telling people ‘no.’ Slowly, over the course of many months of pining and late night conversations, did Sunghoon learn that you’re typically your best self after a moment of isolation.

Your boyfriend is somewhere in between an introvert and extrovert. He tends to be shy when he meets people he isn’t familiar with while his loud, rambunctious attitude is typically reserved for those who know him best. He likes to keep to himself for the most part, giving some of his personality away when he feels his walls start to crumble naturally. You love that he has a good head on his shoulders and that he’s able to tell you about his feelings while maintaining an air of confidence. He doesn’t inherently need anybody; he likes your company and will do anything to keep it.

Moments like this are when your heart feels softer for Sunghoon than when the two of you were just friends.

“I know you wanted to spend the weekend alone but Hoon’s been saying your name all night,” Jay says. “I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“No, it’s fine.” You’re sure Jay can hear your brittle voice. “Are you guys at the bar near your place?”

“That’s the one. Thanks again and I’m really sorry for waking you up.”

“Don’t sweat it. Cook me something next week if you still feel bad.”

“I can do that. Chili oil noodles with shrimp sound good?”

“It’s almost like you know me.” He laughs at your sarcasm.

“Drive safe.”

When Jay hangs up, you allow yourself a few minutes to adjust and wake up, stretching your body from the warm comfort of your blankets. You change out of Sunghoon’s shirt to put on pajama pants and another one of his stolen shirts, opting not to take a jacket since you figure you won’t be out for very long.

You thank your past self for filling up your gas tank before tonight after having put it off for a few days. Knowing Sunghoon, he would still scold you for allowing yourself to run nearly empty before filling it up even if he was inebriated. Somehow, knowing this about him brings a smile to your face.

Sunghoon’s the kind of guy who likes to have some control over certain things. He likes order and structure, often waking up at the same hour every weekday to build a routine his body can remember. He’s been like that since you first met him but you think it’s part of his charm. Even from two years ago, when you met him through Jake Sim, Sunghoon has maintained a level of confidence and control that he does now. On the heels of an impressive skating career before pivoting to focus on higher education, Sunghoon had his preferences and will stick by them.

His discipline is the first thing you noticed when you met him for the first time. Jay, someone you were already familiar with, agreed to cook dinner with your friend group under the condition that everyone helped him shop and chip in for the meal. Sunghoon held Jake back from buying unnecessary things like boxed chocolate milk and candy because Jay had desserts back at his place. He held a checklist of items whereas the rest of your friends ran up and down the aisles without thinking much about what needed to be purchased.

Sunghoon’s near-meticulous behavior is juxtaposed to your chaotic and rambunctious nature. You often follow your gut instead of setting a solid plan because you’re not concerned with meeting deadlines, sans education. Whereas you tend to lean towards a go-with-the-flow attitude, Sunghoon is the opposite. But that’s something he loves about you.

At a surface level distinction, it didn’t seem like the two of you would get along as well as you did. It surprised Jake when Sunghoon asked for your number so he could text you about seeing a comedy film with him as no one else in the group wanted to see it. Including you at an impromptu study session with him (Sunghoon was organized and neat while your pens were spread all over and your study methods, haphazard) felt like watching two people clash.

Rather, you and Sunghoon complement one another.

The idea of letting himself go with someone who wasn’t part of his friend collective was unheard of. Getting to know a girl who didn’t share similar lifestyles didn’t appeal to him before meeting you, and you’re inarguably the most chaotic person Sunghoon knows. But he finds that there’s order within your chaos—you know who you are and what you want, and you will not compromise yourself just to please other people.

It’s what Sunghoon loves the most about you. There’s a boundary you never let anyone cross under the assumption that your own safety net feels compromised. He’s watched you lose friends for this same reason and has always admired the way you carry yourself like you know you deserve better than people who disrespect you. He’s witnessed the grace you maintain when people who call you a friend voice words of kindness but speak ill about you behind your back. If anything, Sunghoon feels pity for anyone who crosses you to the point of anger. To be envious of another’s confidence is one thing. To make that known is another.

Sunghoon learns that you let your inhibitions go because holding control over yourself feels like a burden. It feels like setting a standard you will never be able to meet. He never thought of order in that way before getting to know you. Your approach to life sparked a new wave of emotions within him to the point where he was open and willing to let you farther into his life.

His days were ruled by guidelines he had to maintain and proper etiquette that followed him even off the rink. The poise he carried from his career on the ice bled into his personal life too. Although, he doesn’t mind that it does. Sunghoon values any form of structure because it makes him feel like he has a purpose and that there’s something to be accomplished at the end of the day.

Most times, Sunghoon’s feels like people judge him for his regimen and can’t fathom why he appreciates control so much. They tell him to let loose and enjoy his time away from his career. People always think he simply doesn’t know how to have fun because he’s set in his ways and won’t let other people coax him into doing something he’s not comfortable with. But not you. Sunghoon has never felt like you‘ve judged how he chooses to live his life.

Before he knew it, a year had passed and he started to call you one of his best friends. The friendship was gradual. Sunghoon didn’t have many close female friends in the way he does with Heeseung, Jay, and Jake. You’re the first person since ending his career who hasn’t tried to pry into the why. In fact, Sunghoon enjoys that you didn’t bring it up.

(You did, in the form of cooing over his younger self skating in competitions for the first time or roasting all of the outfits he had to wear. But somehow, all of your jabs made him feel happier than when people complimented his performance.)

Eventually, being around you felt too right. He loved it when you took naps on his bed and felt comfortable raiding your kitchen pantry without permission. Sunghoon could leave you in his apartment without him being in it and feel at ease. In fact, he started to look forward to coming home to you. All it took was seeing you wear his hoodie because you got too cold and forgot your jacket, to make him drop his bag by the front door and ask you to be his girlfriend. He hasn’t regretted anything with you since.

The weather is cold outside since it’s approaching the middle of autumn. You let your car warm up and blast the heat all the way up while adjusting your defrosting settings before heading to the bar to pick up Sunghoon. You sift through your playlists and settle on soft indie melodies before you drive away from the curb.

You’ve never seen Sunghoon get drunk to the point of needing extra help. Usually, you’re the one who goes a little too hard whenever Heeseung brings out the alcohol or if Jake offers an edible or two. Sunghoon likes to sit back and stay sober (or sober up by the end of the night) when he notices you having too much fun. He doesn’t mind, though. Sunghoon likes taking care of you because sometimes it gives him purpose. You’ve never understood that sentiment but to each their own.

The only times you’ve seen him completely wasted are usually when you’re equally as gone, like on your first road trip as a couple. The five of you rented a lakehouse a few hours from Seoul and spent an entire weekend basking under the hot sun and chose to forget about university stress before finals would inevitably kick everyone’s ass. All five of you were cross-faded (but not without Jay and Sunghoon both prepping water bottles and snacks for when the munchies would hit prior to taking anything). You watched Sunghoon relax to the point where he was much quieter than he normally was and when you asked if he was doing alright, he looked you in the eye and told you he loved you for the first time.

I always have, I think, he said as he brought your hand to his chest. You might not believe me because neither of us are sober but I swear I’ll tell you in the morning.

Sunghoon gets affectionate when he’s drunk or high, often to the point of asking for reassurance. The rational side of his brain is temporarily disfigured. You don’t mind being there to tell him that he’s the love of your life and you’d never go anywhere when he gets like this. Although, you’re usually just as gone and gush all of your hidden emotionally-charged feelings, which pair well with Sunghoon’s need for validation sometimes.

Your friends love your relationship. They don’t think it’s too much or too little, going so far as to take photos of the two of you when you aren’t looking. Some are funny like the pictures of you sleeping on his chest with drool pooling out of your mouth. Others are romantic and whimsical, like the pictures of Sunghoon looking at you like you’re the sunshine to his moonlight. They can’t get enough of you two. Your friends love knowing people they care about are deeply in love with one another and your relationship is somewhat of a reminder that true romance does exist.

Thinking about this makes your heart swell as you park your car and tuck your keys inside your purse. The bouncer checks your ID and lets you inside the bar, and you already spot Jay off to the side.

“Thanks for coming,” he says as he gives you a loose hug. “And sorry for waking you up.”

You wave him off. “It’s fine. I’ve probably woken you up for worse.”

“Yeah, like the time you and Jake wanted ramen at 3am and wouldn’t stop calling me because both of you got a little too high.”

“Can you blame us?! You were like, two blocks away.”

“Yeah, but did you need to eat with me?”

“Duh. You’re like, the best person to eat a late night dinner with.”

The two of you laugh as he leads you to the group. You see Sunghoon slumped over the table with his head in his arms and the rest of your friend group tries really hard not to seem too excited when they see you standing next to Jay.

“Fucking finally.” Heeseung stands and gives you a quick side hug before Jake does the same. “Love you guys and all but he started to become unbearable when he kept showing us photos of you.”

Jake snorts. “Poor guy was almost about to cry.” That makes your heart soft.

“He looks so cute,” you coo, tilting your head to savor this moment. It’s abnormal for you to be the sober one but you’re starting to understand why Sunghoon doesn’t mind taking care of you when you’re like this.

Jay comes to stand next to you. “He’s not cute when he drank half his weight in alcohol and wouldn’t shut up about how pretty your hair is.”

“What, do you don’t think my hair’s pretty?” The messy, unbrushed hair is enough to make the guys laugh.

“Nah seriously, thanks for coming,” says Jake. “We felt bad calling you but he refuses to get out of his seat.”

“It’s fine.” You wave him off and step closer to your boyfriend, who still hasn’t moved from his position.

“Do your thing and we’ll be here if you need help bringing him to the car.” Heeseung smiles gratefully at you.

Even the back of Sunghoon’s head is unfairly gorgeous. His hair always looks nice, although you credit that to his younger sister introducing him to a world of hair care products during his skating years. It feels soft to the touch as you stroke the back of his head until Sunghoon slowly comes to. You feel his body start to stir.

“Baby,” you say quietly, bending down until you’re next to him. “Wake up for me.”

“Hm?” Sunghoon mumbles from his arms. He feels the sensation of your fingers carding through his hair and pulls himself from the table, wiping the spit from the corner of his mouth before realizing you’re standing next to him. “Y/N?”

“I’m right here.”

He pulls his head up until he’s sitting upright in the booth, squinting up at you to adjust to the bar lights that disappeared when he closed his eyes. Your boyfriend looks so innocent like this. He looks at you with a wide, round gaze as if you’d appeared out of thin air and he’s trying his hardest to figure out how you’re standing in front of him.

“Is it really you?” Sunghoon asks in a quiet voice. His tone makes your heart flutter and you reach your arms out until you’re cupping his jaw and rubbing the pads of your thumbs over his cheeks. Sunghoon melts into your touch and you feel his body start to relax. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, bug. Did you have fun tonight?”

He nods in your hands, “Mhm. Just tired now.”

“Jay said you were asking for me.”

“I always ask for you.” Your cheeks heat up and you try to ignore the snickers from behind you.

“Why don’t we go back to my place, yeah? You can sleep in my bed instead of this bar.”

“Can we? I love the guys but I just missed you.”

“Simp,” Heeseung whispers before coughing into his fist.

Sunghoon stands from the booth once you’ve taken a step back to give him the space to move. He’s surprisingly able to stand on his own and clutches onto his jacket as he makes his way to the door.

“Sorry guys,” he mutters to the guys.

“Yah, it’s fine,” Jay says as he waves Sunghoon off.

“Get home safe,” Heeseung says as he opens the door for the two of you. Sunghoon waves behind him until you guide him to the car.

“Can you put your jacket on for me?” You catch it in your hands after he nearly let them fall from his grasp.

“Shit, sorry.” You watch Sunghoon put on one arm and then the other. He looks so childlike in this moment as he concentrates his hardest to put the jacket on without stumbling.

It reminds you that he doesn’t show you this side of him often. Sunghoon, ever the poised individual who likes to know what’s ahead of him, has let his inhibitions down. Seeing his figure slowly push his body through the warm fabric has you biting back a smile.

“Need help?”

Sunghoon looks down at his hands that are trying to zip his jacket up to no avail. He feels like his hands are too big and the zipper is too small. “Please.”

Your steady fingers cover Sunghoon’s and take over the tedious task. The metal is warm from his fingertips. You can feel him looking down at you and you temporarily fumble with the zipper, which makes him laugh.

“Silly,” he mutters. “Ah, fuck. I don’t know if I can open the door.”

You roll your eyes and open it for him. “You’re funny.”

He slides into the seat as gracefully as he can without hitting his head on the roof. Sunghoon struggles, but manages to buckle himself in and grins up at you when he hears the click of the buckle. When you look down on him, the lamp post from above casts a soft glow on his face. He looks so youthful at this moment. Sunghoon has let go of his thoughts and couldn’t think about anything but the present moment even if he tried.

He waits for you and mumbles about how cold it is when you turn the engine on. The warm air starts to uplift his spirits and he looks at you with us head pressed to the headrest.

“I’m sorry you have to see me like this.”

“What?” you ask. “Why?”

He shrugs. “Dunno. Usually I’m the one taking care of you.”

“You don’t always have to be brave, you know.”

Sunghoon doesn’t say anything. He reaches out to envelope your hand in his and squeezes it until he’s holding it loosely in the quiet of the evening.

“I love you.”

Your heart blooms. “I love you right back.” He seems satisfied with your response and lets go of your hand so that you can drive back to your apartment.

When you park on the curb, Sunghoon’s sober enough to unbuckle his seatbelt and wait for you to turn the engine off before opening his door carefully. He steps outside and leans back on the car door until you walk around the hood of the vehicle and grabs your hands to pull you into him.

You feel his lips on your before you register what’s happening. He tastes faintly of pineapple soju and beer, and his mouth is warm. Despite his inebriated state, Sunghoon’s able to hold you between his hands as he moves to place them on your hips to balance your body after you’ve stumbled into him.

The kiss itself is slow. In fact, it feels as though Sunghoon has slowed time around so that the two of you could enjoy the late night kiss uninterrupted. You can barely hear anything besides the ringing in your ears after being caught by surprise due to your boyfriend’s abrupt movements. Your mouths move in slow tandem and Sunghoon nearly pushes his tongue inside your mouth before pulling away to rest his forehead against your own.

“My baby,” he whispers against your lips before giving you another quick peck.

“You are so cute.” You blurt out this confession like you’re still pining after him. “Let’s go inside, yeah?”

The apartment is warm compared to the environment outside and Sunghoon slips off his shoes in favor of wearing his designated slippers. He doesn’t let go of your hand the entire time he does so, letting you pull him into the hallway until the two of you reach your bedroom. The hardwood floors feel better than the uneven pavement from outside.

He loves it here. It’s a sanctuary away from his apartment with the friends he will probably invite to his wedding. But something about your green comforter and hand-painted artwork adorning your walls makes Sunghoon feel like he would live by your side for the rest of his life. The scent of your room–warm peaches and vanilla–tugs at his heart strings. This is where he belongs.

Likewise, you love seeing Sunghoon behave like this. It’s not commonplace for him to let people take care of him in the way you are now. He’s used to people looking out for his career and best interest but he struggles with allowing others to handle him with such care. After a decade of enduring harsh criticism and physical endurance, Sunghoon struggles to relax and allow others to take the reins. It’s partially why he loves taking care of you. Being able to provide that kind of love and support makes him feel wanted and needed, even if you tell him he’s more than enough a thousand times over.

You leave him in your room to change his clothes taken from his designated drawer while you prepare skincare and the works. You hear him shuffle outside and fall onto the bed once, prompting you to hold your laughter in as you wash your hands and pull out hair clips for him to use.

“I can’t lie,” Sunghoon says as you emerge from the bathroom to see him in a big t-shirt and pajama bottoms, “I’m really looking forward to you doing my skincare.”

You snicker and pull your desk chair into the bathroom. “Now you know exactly how I feel every time I beg you to do mine when I’m drunk. Sit and close your eyes, please.”

He follows your instructions and leans his back against the furniture. Sunghoon doesn’t fuss when you pin his hair back until it’s secure and allows you to make him feel pampered in a way he typically wouldn’t.

“Did you have fun tonight?”

Sunghoon hums. “Yeah, I did. The guys picked me up from my place and we had lunch at that seafood spot we’ve been meaning to try.”

“Was it any good?”

“So good.” He licks his lips. “God, I’m still thinking about that shellfish soup. We ordered enough food to feed a village but it was so worth it. I wanna go with you.”

“We can go wherever you want.” He smiles at your soft tone.

“We also went to the beach and met some guys at the skate park by the highway. They were pretty nice and let us use their boards for a little. Heeseung got along with them the best, I think.”

“Heeseung makes friends with everybody.”

“He says he’s not social but that’s a lie.” Sunghoon twitches his nose when he feels a damp washcloth on his face. “We went to the bar afterwards and split it by round. I got the first and honestly, I don’t remember much after that.”

“How are you feeling now, though?” you ask as you finish patting his skin dry. “Do you still feel dizzy?” Sunghoon opens his eyes and watches you apply a serum before dabbing it all over his face.

“Not as much as before. I think I’m just tired.”

“And clingy, apparently.”

Sunghoon smacks the back of your thighs. “Shut up. You love it.” You silence him by kissing his nose.

While he brushes his teeth, you situate yourself underneath your plush covers and allow the weight of the blanket to fall on top of you. The sweet promise of a good night’s rest feels imminent, especially when you see your boyfriend emerge from the bathroom. He turns off the light and walks towards the empty side of the bed before he’s slipping himself beside you.

Sunghoon’s an equal opportunist when it comes to sleeping positions. He loves it the most when your head is on his chest and when your arms are tangled in one another because he likes knowing that the two of you yearn for each other equally. But when he gets like this, Sunghoon takes initiative to maneuver himself until half of his chest and head are on top of you. He situates his arm around your waist and pulls himself closer to your body until a deep, satisfied sigh comes from the back of his throat.

He hums in appreciation when your fingers begin to massage his scalp. Sunghoon’s hair is soft and silky and on most days, you’re the only person who gets to touch it. The slowness of your movements paired with the soft kiss you place on his temple makes his eyelids feel heavy.

“Sorry you had to come pick me up,” Sunghoon mumbles against you. “I know we agreed to give each other some space this weekend.”

“You should know by now that I’d do anything for you.” He feels you kiss the crown of his head. “Plus, we both know you’d do the same for me.”

Sunghoon nods. “I would. You’re my girlfriend. Duh.” His sleepy nonsense makes you laugh.

“You can go back to hanging out with the guys tomorrow if you want.” He shakes his head.

“I want to get breakfast with you.” Sunghoon finds your free hand and presses a sleepy kiss to the back of it.

“Whatever you want. We can get breakfast.”

“If we wake up early enough.”

You laugh again. “Yes, if we wake up early enough.”

Sunghoon mumbles a few incoherent words that you can’t quite make out because of your own tiredness. When your own eyes start to droop, Sunghoon feels your fingers start to falter and looks up at you to see you’ve fallen fast asleep.

He kisses the underside of your chin and falls asleep too.

***

comments and reblogs are appreciated! x

#enhypen x reader #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon x reader #kpop x reader #enha x reader #enhypen imagines #sunghoon imagines #park sunghoon imagines #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon #my writing*

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ellecdc · 5 months ago

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The Ruined Apothecary

Remus Lupin x feisty fem!reader who reconnect after Hogwarts

CW: chronic pain, Remus uses a mobility aid, financial insecurity, fluff/banter

A/N: I think this was a request from @maladaptiveescapism like eons ago about feisty reader who runs into Remus prior to a full moon post Hogwarts and somehow knows what Remus needs unprompted

Remus hated shopping in Diagon Alley for a number of reasons.

One, he hated running into people from Hogwarts – and the chances of such happening were quite high due to how small the Wizarding community was.

Two, he never could keep track of who was aware of his status as a werewolf and who didn’t, and more importantly, who took issue with his status.

But what he hated most of all was coming to Diagon Alley this close to the full moon on account of the two aforementioned reasons.

Unfortunately, Remus had left it too late to restock his medicine and potions cabinet, and he was out of dittany, valerian root, and pain potions; all things he couldn’t find for himself in the muggle world, and though he knew his friends would be more than happy to run these errands for him, he was tired of relying on them.

So, he put on a beanie and his denim jacket, a pair of ratty old converse and grabbed the cane that Sirius had insisted Remus let him buy for him because “it has moons on it!” and hobbled through Diagon Alley towards the discount Apothecary he hoped wasn’t out of stock of the common post-moon essentials.

“Lupin?” He heard from behind him, causing him to groan internally.

He could pretend he hadn’t heard them, though, there was still a way out of this.

“Oh, come now, I know you heard me.” He heard the voice again.

So much for that plan.

Remus reluctantly turned towards the voice, only to be accosted by the beautiful image you painted, standing in the middle of Diagon Alley looking exactly like you had at school, but somehow more beautiful.

Remus hated that.

“L/N?” He asked, raising a hand in hello. To Remus’ absolute horror, you began moving towards him.

“Wow, I rarely get to see you around these parts. I’d say that makes me sad, but you and your friends were never a welcome sight back at school.” You jested, looking Remus up and down.

It took everything in him not to try to hide from your piercing gaze.

“Oh, I’m sure you see James and Sirius around enough for the lot of us.”

You laughed at that – Remus wasn’t sure he’d ever heard you laugh; certainly not back in school, and certainly not on account of anything he had said.

“Well, it gets a little boring around these parts sometimes; your lot would help keep some of these tosser shopkeeps on their toes I reckon.” You spat, glaring menacingly at a particular elderly shopkeep - who was very clearly eavesdropping on your conversation - causing them to hastily re-enter their establishment.

“Soddin’ no good Gwendolyn.” You grumbled, still staring daggers towards the offending shop. Remus felt his cheeks flame when his laugh turned into a coughing fit on account of his ribs stretching in preparation for the moon.

You looked him over once again with a perceptive gaze that made Remus feel like he was standing naked in the middle of Diagon Alley.

He’d had that dream once before; didn’t much care for it.

“Where’re you headed?” You asked then, appearing for all intents and purposes like you were making casual conversation, though Remus knew better.

“Just running some errands.” He offered noncommittally, and some of that feisty witch he remembered from back in school made an appearance as you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Really?” You sneered at him. “I rather thought you were here to work on your tan.”

Remus - the dumb sod - actually looked up at the sky as if wondering if that was a good enough excuse to go by, only to be met with the familiar overcast sky that the UK typically wore.

“What errands, Lupin?” You asked again, and some of that heat from your sarcasm seemed to dissipate from your tone as your gaze turned softer.

“The Apothecary.” Remus admitted, not having the energy nor the patience to lie to you.

Your face grew into a wide grin at that, and he once again tried to remember if he’d ever seen you smile before; certainly not at him.

“Well why didn’t you just say so? I own an Apothecary, you know?”

And he did know which was why he’d never been before.

He’d never been before because the ingredients he’d procured and the frequency of which he procured them would give away his status to one who didn’t already know it. It was admittedly easier having some middle-aged shopkeep who didn’t know him - and thus didn’t give a thestrals arse about what Remus was - dispense his ingredients than someone who he went to school with.

The other reason he’d never been before was that he was quite certain he’d never be able to afford your prices.

But you were already walking away from him as if you were expecting him to follow.

“It was nice seeing you!” He tried to dismiss you as he turned to walk the other way.

“Oh, I don’t think so, Lupin.” He heard you call as you turned back towards him. “My shop’s this way.”

Remus let out a sigh as he stared you down defiantly.

He didn’t want to go to your shop. He didn’t want you to know what ingredients he needed for the potions and medical care he required every month. He also didn’t want to have to ask you in the end if he could come back and pay for the rest of his tab on payday, nor did he want to empty his wallet in one shop.

But his hip was killing him, his fingers were gripping the handle of his cane painfully, and you were standing there staring at him with your eyes and your looks and your gorgeousness and fucking dammit.

He’d have to stop by Gringotts on his way out and see if they provide lines of credit.

Your shop was….absolutely nothing like he expected it to be.

Don’t get him wrong, it definitely looked like a Slytherin owned and operated it, what with its deep jewel-toned walls, dark stained wood shelves, desks, and furniture, and the low-hanging ceiling that saw various plants, dried arrangements, and… crystals? hanging from it.

“What’s with that face, Lupin?” You asked him from behind the desk, alerting him to the fact that he was standing in the middle of your shop staring at the ceiling with a look of pure discombobulation.

“Are those…crystals?” He asked as he made his way, albeit slowly, towards your counter.

You looked up at the ceiling as if noticing them for the first time. “Ah, yes; those would be Pandora’s doing. Something about the wrackspurts or what not, I couldn’t tell you.” You explained flippantly. “She offers tea leaf readings on Saturday’s if you’re interested.”

Remus let out a snort at that, immediately horrified that he just belittled a service that your shop provided. “Oh! I, erm, I mean-”

“Relax, Lupin; I’ve not had my tea leaves read either.” You offered in monotone, looking up and offering him a smirk.

“Not big on divination, I take it?” He asked you then, watching as you set up parchments and twine along your workbench.

“Not at all; but she was bad for business which was what I was looking for.”

Remus felt his head tilt at that but you disappeared behind the curtain into a store room before he was able to comment on your word choice.

Remus leaned heavily against the counter as he made himself busy watching what looked to be a bowtruckle climb through the vines and branches of an ancient looking tree that seemed to make up the majority of the shop's ceiling.

You reappeared from the back room with an overflowing basket of ingredients, and far more supplies than Remus came here for.

“Oh! I, erm, I only came for dittany, valerian root, and pain potions today.” He offered awkwardly, trying to stand up straighter and wincing when his hip cracked audibly.

You looked up at him then, clearly fighting off an expression that threatened to take over your face that would give away the fact that you thought Remus quite stupid for explaining, which Remus also noted was a new skill you acquired since your days in school.

“Right…” You offered awkwardly, looking back down at your basket. “I also added some moonseed, powdered moonstone, powdered silver, and some wiggenweld potions.”

“Moonseed can be used as a salve for your sores, Remus.” Madame Pomfrey explained to him after graduation before he left Hogwarts for the last time. “Do keep some on you at all times, okay? And any ingredients that can be used in pain potions or calming draughts; powdered moonstone, valerian root, and for very deep werewolf injuries, please keep powdered silver on you as well.” He simply smiled at Madame Pomfrey before pecking a kiss to her cheek - his mum away from home and the witch who single handedly ensured Remus’ survival all these years - not bothering to admit to her that he’d likely never be able to afford these ingredients as a lycanthrope.

He didn’t even register that you seemed to know of his lycanthropy nor that you had packaged everything up for him in your parchments and twine, adding sprigs of fluxweed between the knot of twine - for decoration or practical use, Remus wasn’t sure - until you read his total out for him.

“That’ll be three galleons and 25 knuts, please.” You said simply as you stared at him expectantly.

Three galleons?! The powdered silver should be almost five, alone.

“That’s not enough.” He pressed quickly, causing one of your eyebrows to raise at him.

“It’s my shop, I get to charge what I feel.”

“I don’t need your charity, L/N.” He spat then, officially losing what little patience he had. Money had always been a sore spot for him, and this was exactly why he didn’t come to your Apothecary; a well-done by Sacred 28 witch like you wouldn’t understand.

“Lupin.” You chided harshly. “Since you’ve never bothered to frequent my shop before, you may not be aware that I had my business passed through the Ministry in partnership with St. Mungo’s as a sliding scale provider, meaning that I only have to charge people what they can afford to pay me. Aside from that, my family has more money than any of my potential future children’s children’s children will know what to do with, so I will tell you again: it is my shop, I get to charge what I feel.”

Remus’ eyes flit back towards the ceiling without his consent to watch the bowtruckle twirl one of the hanging crystals and chatter happily as it watched the rainbow lights reflecting along the walls.

“Those would be Pandora’s…she offers tea leaf readings on Saturday’s; she was bad for business which was what I was looking for.”

“This was your father’s shop.” Remus concluded, watching your jaw tighten as you gave him a curt nod. “And you…did this?” Remus continued as he gestured to the store vaguely.

“Ruined it, yes.” You confirmed.

“Who said it was ruined?”

You hummed as you looked off into the distance recalling the names of people who said you had destroyed your family’s business. “My entire family, their peers, the business department at the Ministry, Professor Slughorn… the likes.”

You seemed surprised when you returned your gaze to Remus to find him smiling softly at you.

“Why?” He whispered at you, causing you to smile what appeared to be bashfully.

“I don’t need to profit off of someone else's struggles.” You said simply, no longer making eye contact with Remus and opting to bag the packages in front of you in order to have something to do with your hands. “I’m in a position to help, so…I feel like I should.”

Remus let out a hum of acknowledgment as he placed his three galleons and 25 knuts on the counter in front of you.

“Or…” Remus started teasingly as he accepted the brown paper bag you had placed his packages in from your hand. “You’ve gone soft.”

Your face fell then as you stared him down challengingly, though Remus relished in the hint of a smile from your lips. “Get the hells out of my shop, Lupin.”

Remus laughed as he backed away from the counter, his bag and cane in one hand as he pointed at you. “No, no. You’ve made a terrible mistake, L/N. I will be haunting this shop frequently from now on.”

“Stay out of trouble, will you Lupin?” You called back to him as he made it to the door of the shop.

“You know what? I don’t think I will. Thanks, dove! Next time I’ll stop by with James and Sirius!”

And he couldn’t help the beaming smile that took over his face as he heard your groan some profanity as the door slipped shut behind him.

Oh yeah, he’d definitely be telling the boys that he found a new Apothecary, and that they should absolutely be investing their families money in it.

#marauders era #marauders au #marauders fanfiction #reader insert #self insert #remus lupin #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin fic #remus lupin ficlet #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #feisty!reader #fluff #remus lupin fluff #ellecdc fics

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hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall · 3 months ago

Text

New life - worst!Logan x Reader (NSFW)

Summary: Logan tries to live his new life in solitarity with peace and quiet. However, it all changes when you move in next to him.

Pairing: worst!Logan x reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, smut, inexperienced (but not a virgin) reader, Wade Wilson. SMUT, hot shower sex, eating out for both So please do not interract if you're under 18.

AN: So I had this story sitting and waiting to be published. This is probably the most smutty thing I have ever written. But I hope you will enjoy it ;) No beta read all the mistakes are my own...

Words: 24 220 (oops)

Logan sat on the porch of the small cabin, his rough hands wrapped around a bottle of cheap beer, staring out at the thick woods that surrounded him. The world was quiet, too quiet for a man like him. It wasn’t just the silence of the woods, but the kind of silence that stretched into the very core of his existence, making him feel like a ghost—a relic in a world that had moved on without him.

He had seen it all. Hell, he’d lived it all. Fought battles that would break most men, lost more people than he cared to remember, and survived wars that had been meant to end him. Yet here he was, in this new reality, a world stitched together from the broken pieces of his past and fragments of a future that wasn’t supposed to be.

And then there was Wade.

Logan took a long drink, letting the beer burn its way down his throat. Wade Wilson—Deadpool—was a walking contradiction. The bastard was a thorn in Logan’s side, an immortal jester who seemed to mock the seriousness of life with every breath he took. Wade’s idea of fun was throwing himself headfirst into a fight just to see how many pieces he’d end up in. And somehow, by some twisted stroke of fate, Wade had followed Logan into this new world.

It wasn’t just Wade, either. Laura was here, too. His daughter, if he could call her that. X-23. She was tough, capable, and deadly. More like him than anyone else, and that’s what scared him the most.

Logan had always thought that isolation was his fate. He’d always believed he was doomed to walk the world alone, leaving destruction in his wake. But now…now he wasn’t so sure.

In this strange new place, with Wade and Laura nearby, Logan found himself struggling to make sense of it all. And the worst part? He couldn’t decide if he hated the fact that he wasn’t alone anymore—or if he secretly loved it.

---

The world they found themselves in wasn’t exactly like the one Logan had known before. There were no Sentinels hunting mutants down. There were no endless wars between mutants and humans. It was… quieter. Softer. And it made Logan feel restless, like a caged animal pacing inside a zoo enclosure too small for his needs.

This world was full of people living normal lives—people who didn’t know about the blood Logan had on his hands, the wars he had fought, or the pain that clawed at his insides every time he closed his eyes. They didn’t know who he was. And he wanted to keep it that way.

But there were still reminders of the past, flickers of the world he’d left behind. Wade, for one. The bastard had somehow adapted to this new reality like a fish to water, making sarcastic jokes about “timeline anomalies” and “multiverse etiquette” while Logan tried not to punch him in the face.

It wasn’t that Logan hated Wade. No, he knew Wade had been through his own version of hell. It was just that Wade had a way of poking at the deepest parts of Logan’s soul, the parts he didn’t want anyone messing with. Like Wade knew exactly how to find the cracks in Logan’s armor and jab at them with a grin on his face.

Yet despite that, Wade was here. And Laura. And something about that gnawed at Logan in ways he couldn’t explain.

Wade’s presence wasn’t just an annoyance. It was a reminder that Logan wasn’t alone. That even in this fractured world, there were still people around him. People who gave a damn. Wade might be a pain in the ass, but Logan couldn’t deny that the man had his back when it counted.

And Laura—she was tougher than nails, just like him. The kid had been through more than anyone her age should have to endure. In many ways, she was his mirror: fierce, stubborn, carrying the weight of violence in her bones. But where Logan was tired, worn down by the decades, Laura still had fire in her. She hadn’t lost that part of herself yet.

God, he hoped she wouldn’t.

---

Logan had spent his life running from his past. It was the one thing he was good at. He had been the lone wolf for so long, keeping people at arm’s length, pushing them away the moment they got too close. He’d lost count of how many times he had built walls around himself, thicker and higher each time. He’d perfected the art of being alone.

But this time, the past felt closer than ever.

In his quiet moments—those rare seconds when Wade wasn’t around, spouting off ridiculous commentary about “crossing universes” or “rebooting franchises”—Logan found his mind drifting back to the things he couldn’t forget. The people. The places. The blood.

The world around him might have changed, but his memories hadn’t.

He remembered the sound of Charles’ voice, the way the professor’s mind had felt inside his own, guiding him when everything else was chaos. He remembered Jean, her face twisted with power and pain, and how he had been the one to end it. To end her. He remembered the wars, the endless wars, and the way they had ripped him apart inside, piece by piece.

Logan’s hands clenched around the neck of the bottle, his knuckles turning white. It wasn’t fair. The memories weren’t fair. They were all ghosts now, haunting him in the quiet of this new world. He had outlived them all, and sometimes he wondered if that was the worst part—being the last one standing.

Laura was the only one who could understand, even if she didn’t say it out loud. She had the same memories, the same scars. They were alike in that way, bound together by the violence of their creation.

Yet she still looked at the world with a glimmer of hope.

Logan envied her for that.

---

What tore at him the most—what kept Logan up at night, staring at the ceiling, his chest heavy with the weight of it—was the gnawing feeling that maybe he didn’t want to be alone. Not anymore.

For years, Logan had convinced himself that solitude was his destiny. That he was too dangerous, too broken to be close to anyone. He had lost too much, and losing again wasn’t something he could handle. It was easier to keep the world at a distance. To fight alone. To bleed alone.

But now, sitting here in the middle of nowhere with Wade making bad jokes and Laura not too far away, Logan found himself facing a truth he didn’t know how to accept.

He cared about them.

He’d never say it out loud, of course. That wasn’t his style. But it was there, gnawing at the back of his mind every time Wade dragged him into some ridiculous situation or Laura reminded him, with a single sharp look, that she was capable of handling herself.

In some messed-up way, these people had become his pack. His family.

Logan didn’t do family. Not after all the ones he had lost. But now, against all odds, there was Wade with his incessant humor, and Laura with her silent strength. And, whether he liked it or not, Logan found himself caring.

Maybe too much.

That was the real problem, wasn’t it? He couldn’t afford to care. He had spent his whole life losing the people he loved, and he didn’t want to go through that again. But this world—this strange new reality—was forcing him to face a future he hadn’t expected. A future where he wasn’t alone.

And it scared the hell out of him.

---

Logan felt the beast stirring inside him every day. The anger, the rage—it was always there, lurking just beneath the surface, waiting for an excuse to tear its way out. In the old world, there had always been something to fight. Someone to kill. That’s what kept him going: the battles, the endless battles.

But here?

Here, in this quiet world, the beast had no outlet. There were no enemies to hunt, no wars to fight. And that scared him more than anything, because without the violence to drown in, Logan was left with the one thing he had spent his entire life avoiding: himself.

He didn’t know how to live without the fight. Didn’t know how to be the man people wanted him to be in this strange new life.

And yet, for the first time in years, Logan could feel something else stirring inside him. Something softer. It was a terrifying feeling—one that made him feel exposed and vulnerable in a way no battle ever had. It was the feeling of wanting something more.

Of wanting someone to come home to.

Logan shook his head, trying to shake the thought loose. He was too old for this. Too worn out, too broken. There was no place in his life for softness. No place for—

A voice cut through the silence. “Hey, old man, you brooding again? Don’t worry, I brought beer! And chimichangas!”

Wade.

Logan growled low in his throat, but deep down, a part of him—the part he refused to acknowledge—was relieved.

---

As the sun set over the trees, casting long shadows across the ground, Logan leaned back in his chair, listening to Wade’s footsteps approaching. In another life, in another world, this would’ve been the kind of thing that set him on edge.

***

Logan could hear you long before he saw you.

It was a sunny afternoon—too damn sunny for his taste—when the sound of boxes being shuffled, a car door slamming, and a string of cheerful humming broke the usual quiet of his secluded little corner of the world. Logan’s brows furrowed as he sat on his porch, a cigar clamped between his teeth. He could feel the change, the shift in his surroundings, like the arrival of an unwanted storm.

He wasn’t expecting anyone new to move in. He didn’t need neighbors. Hell, he barely tolerated the company of Wade, and that bastard was like a cockroach, impossible to get rid of. But the sounds continued, grating on his nerves.

Logan tried to ignore it. He took a deep drag from his cigar, letting the smoke curl around him like a protective shield. He wasn’t in the mood for people. Never was.

But then he heard it—the unmistakable sound of footsteps crunching on the gravel driveway leading up to his cabin.

“Hey there!” a bright voice called out, too damn chipper for the likes of him.

Logan squinted into the sunlight, his gaze landing on the source of the intrusion.

A woman— with a wide smile and way too much energy—was making her way toward him, waving as if they were old friends. She had a box tucked under one arm, and her other hand flailed in his direction like she hadn’t quite mastered the art of walking and greeting someone at the same time.

Logan’s first thought was to retreat, to grumble some excuse and disappear into his cabin, lock the door, and hope she’d get the hint.

But then she was there, standing at the edge of his porch, her eyes bright with curiosity and excitement. Logan could practically feel her energy radiating off her, and it made his skin itch.

“Hi! Nice to meet ya,” you said, holding out a hand as if you two were meeting at some friendly town gathering. “I just moved in next door! Well, not exactly next door, but you know, close enough. Over there.” You pointed vaguely in the direction of the small house a few yards down the gravel road, the one that had been vacant for months. “I thought I’d come by and introduce myself!”

Logan stared at you, his mouth clamped shut around the cigar, saying nothing. He didn’t want to shake your hand. Hell, he didn’t even want to look at you, but there you were—bright, bubbly, and apparently oblivious to the fact that he wasn’t the neighborly type.

Your hand hovered in the air for a moment longer before you dropped it, unfazed by his lack of response. You were smiling at him like you had all the time in the world, eyes sparkling with some kind of optimism that made Logan’s stomach twist.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” you said, cocking your head to the side, studying him like he was some kind of puzzle you were eager to figure out.

Logan grunted, the only sound he could manage. He wasn’t about to engage in small talk with some stranger, let alone one as annoyingly cheerful as this one.

You didn’t seem bothered by his silence. In fact, you didn’t seem bothered by anything. You just kept talking, as if his gruff demeanor was nothing more than a speed bump on the road of your conversation.

“I’m opening a coffee shop!” you announced, her face lighting up even more, which Logan hadn’t thought was possible. “Right down the street, actually. It’s called Beans of Heaven—cute, right? I thought it was clever. It’s gonna be small, but cozy. You should stop by sometime. I make the best coffee. Seriously, the *best*. You’re not one of those ‘don’t talk to me until I’ve had my coffee’ types, are you? ’Cause I can fix that. I’ve got all sorts of flavors, too. But if you’re more of a black coffee, no sugar, no fuss kind of guy, I can do that, too.”

You paused just long enough to take a breath, and Logan couldn’t help but feel a little bit of admiration for the fact that you hadn’t passed out from lack of oxygen. Damn, you could talk.

“I bet you’re a black coffee type,” you said, giving him a wink like you’d just solved some great mystery. “Strong, no nonsense. That’s you, right?”

Logan grunted again, this time out of sheer disbelief. Were you for real?

You smiled wider—how, he didn’t know—and clapped your hands together. “I knew it! Okay, well, I just wanted to say hi and let you know that I’m around. If you ever need anything, just holler! Or, you know, come by the shop. First cup’s on the house!”

Before Logan could tell you to leave, you waved one last time and turned on your heel, bouncing back toward the car like the world was made of sunshine and rainbows.

Logan stared after you, feeling a mix of irritation and confusion swirling in his gut. You were too much. Too loud. Too… happy. A part of him wanted to destroy that happiness, to crush it beneath the weight of his own darkness, just to see how long your smile would last.

But another part of him—the part that still hadn’t learned to let go of the things he’d lost—wanted to hold on to it. To be a part of it. Maybe even protect it.

He crushed those thoughts as soon as they appeared. That wasn’t him. Not anymore.

No, the loudest part of him wanted to stay far away from you and that relentless energy. He didn’t need that kind of brightness in his life. He’d learned long ago that everything bright eventually dimmed. And Logan was no good at keeping things alive.

---

It didn’t take long for you to open the shop.

Within a week, there was a new sign on the old building just down the road, a colorful thing that read Bean of Heaven in bold, cheerful letters. The place had been empty for as long as Logan could remember, just another relic of a town that was slowly dying. But you had breathed life into it, just like you had with everything else you touched.

Logan had no intention of visiting. He wasn’t about to walk into a place where he’d have to sit and listen to your nonstop chatter. But fate, or maybe just bad luck, had other plans.

He ran out of beer.

There were no bars nearby, and the nearest liquor store was a half-hour drive. He’d been sitting on his porch, staring at the empty bottle in his hand, when the smell hit him—rich, dark, the unmistakable aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafting down the street from your shop. His stomach growled, and despite himself, Logan found his feet moving toward the source.

The bell above the door jingled as he stepped inside, and there you were—standing behind the counter, pouring coffee with the same level of enthusiasm most people reserved for winning the lottery. Your head snapped up when you saw him, and your face lit up with that damn smile again.

“Neighbour! You made it!” you said, like you’d been expecting him all along. “I knew you’d come by eventually.”

Logan grunted, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket. He didn’t respond, just made his way to the counter, eyes scanning the shop. It was cozy, like you’d said—lots of wooden tables, warm lighting, and shelves lined with plants and knickknacks. It didn’t feel like a place that belonged in his world.

You handed him a cup, black coffee, no sugar, no cream—just how he liked it. He took a sip, the warmth flooding through him, and he couldn’t help but let out a small sound of approval.

It was the best damn coffee he’d ever had.

“You like it, huh?” You asked, eyes twinkling with pride. “Told you I make the best coffee. You’re gonna be hooked, I promise.”

Logan didn’t answer, just took another sip, letting the coffee do the talking for him.

You leaned on the counter, your head resting in your hands, watching him like he was the most interesting thing in the world. “So,” you said, breaking the silence, “you’re kind of a mystery, aren’t you?”

Logan’s jaw tightened. He didn’t like being a mystery to anyone. Especially not someone like you, who seemed intent on figuring him out.

“I bet you’ve got all sorts of stories,” you continued, undeterred by his silence. “I mean, you’ve got that whole ‘lone wolf’ vibe going on. You know, the brooding guy with the mysterious past? People eat that stuff up.”

Logan grunted, trying to ignore you, but you didn’t seem to get the hint. You just kept talking, words bouncing around the shop like they had a life of their own.

“You ever think about opening up? I mean, I’m sure you’ve been through a lot. Everyone’s got their demons, right? And I get it, you don’t want to talk about it. That’s fine. But, you know, sometimes it helps to have someone to talk to. Not that I’m saying you need to talk to me or anything, but—”

Logan shot you a look, one that usually shut people up pretty fast. But you? You just smiled, like he hadn’t even glared at you.

“You’re not much for conversation, huh?”

***

The first few weeks after Logan’s initial trip to Beans of Heaven passed in a haze of routine. Every morning, like clockwork, he’d walk down the road to the small coffee shop. The sun was always just barely creeping over the horizon, and the air was still crisp with the night’s lingering chill. The smell of freshly brewed coffee would hit him the moment he opened the door, mingling with the scent of cinnamon rolls and other pastries you had undoubtedly baked before dawn.

You, for your part, had made a habit of greeting him the same way every day, with a wide smile that seemed to stretch across your entire face. “Logan! Black coffee, no frills, coming right up!”

At first, he just grunted in response, as usual. But there was something about you—something relentless, something he couldn’t quite figure out. Most people would’ve taken the hint after a few days of silence from him, maybe decided to stop talking altogether. But not you. No, you kept at it, talking about everything and nothing, filling the air with words while Logan sat at his usual table in the back corner, sipping his coffee.

He didn’t respond. Not really. But there was a part of him that started to look forward to it, the way your voice would fill the shop, the way you laughed at your own jokes. It was ridiculous, how much energy you had. And even more ridiculous how much it didn’t annoy him as much as it should’ve.

---

It happened one day, without him even meaning to.

Logan had been sitting at his usual spot, staring out the window, watching the way the morning light filtered through the trees. You were behind the counter, humming some cheerful tune while you wiped down the espresso machine. You hadn’t started talking to him yet that morning—maybe you’d finally realized he wasn’t much for conversation.

But then, out of nowhere, you blurted out, “You ever play hockey, Logan?”

His eyes flicked up to you, and for a split second, he almost ignored the question, like he always did. But something inside him cracked, maybe because it was such a random thing to ask, or maybe because he hadn’t been asked about hockey in a long time.

“Yeah,” he muttered, his voice rough like gravel. “A long time ago.”

Your eyes widened, and for a moment, you looked like you weren't sure if you’d imagined his response or not. But then, just as quickly, you beamed at him. “I knew it! You’ve got that ‘gritty, fight-anyone-who-looks-at-you-wrong’ vibe. Bet you were one of those enforcers, huh? Knocking people’s teeth out?”

Logan snorted, a sound that surprised even him. He hadn’t meant to make it, but there it was. “Something like that.”

You practically bounced on your heels, grinning like you’d just unlocked some great mystery. “That’s awesome! You’ll have to teach me some moves one day. I mean, I’m not a hockey player, but I do love watching the games. Fast-paced, brutal—right up your alley, I bet.”

Logan didn’t respond, but something about the way you said it—about how easily you talked to him, how you didn’t flinch at his gruffness—made him feel… different. Not in a bad way, but in a way that was unfamiliar.

It felt comfortable. And that was terrifying.

---

After that day, something shifted between you two. It wasn’t drastic, but it was there—a slow, almost imperceptible change. Logan found himself responding more often, if only with a few words here and there. You, in turn, seemed to take his gruff replies as victories, your laughter growing warmer every time he said something back.

You still talked a lot. About your shop, about the town, about random things you found amusing. Logan didn’t mind, though. Your voice became part of the background, something that made the shop feel… alive.

And then, one Sunday, you hit him with the invitation that he hadn’t seen coming.

“Hey, Logan?” you called from behind the counter as you wiped down the tables after the last customer of the day had left.

He looked up from his coffee, raising an eyebrow in question.

“So, I was thinking… I’ve got this Sunday dinner tradition, and I usually eat alone, which is fine, but it’d be way more fun if you joined me,” you said, words spilling out in that usual rapid-fire way you had. “I’m making lasagna—well, trying to, anyway. It’s kind of a work in progress, but it’s edible, I promise.”

Logan stared at you for a moment, trying to figure out if you were serious. Dinner? With him? It was the kind of thing people did when they were friends, or at least something close to it.

He wasn’t sure he was ready for that. But the look on your face—hopeful, yet casual, like you weren't pressuring him—made it hard to say no. You weren't asking much. Just dinner.

“I don’t do lasagna,” he said gruffly, setting his mug down.

You blinked, clearly not expecting that response. “Oh… okay. Well, what do you do? I can make something else—anything you like.”

He sighed, knowing he was walking right into the trap. “Steak. Rare.”

Your face lit up like Christmas had come early. “Steak it is! Sunday, six o’clock. Don’t be late!”

And just like that, Logan found himself sitting at your table a few days later, cutting into a steak that was cooked almost perfectly, and listening to you ramble on about some small-town drama that he didn’t care about in the slightest. But he listened anyway, because for the first time in longer than he could remember, he didn’t mind the noise.

It was… nice. And that unsettled him more than anything.

---

Sunday dinners became a thing. He didn’t know how it happened, or when it happened, but suddenly, every Sunday at six, Logan found himself sitting at your table, eating whatever meal you’d decided to cook that week.

In return, he invited you over one evening to watch a hockey game. He wasn’t much of a TV guy, but the game was on, and he figured if you liked hockey as much as you said you did, it wouldn’t hurt to have someone else to sit in silence with while the action played out on the screen.

But, of course, silence wasn’t part of the deal with you.

“Oh my God, that hit was brutal!” you exclaimed, clutching the edge of the couch as one of the players was slammed into the boards. “Is it bad that I kind of love that part?”

Logan chuckled, a sound he was still getting used to making around you. “That’s the best part.”

They watched the rest of the game, and by the end of it, you were nearly bouncing off the couch with excitement, throwing out commentary as if you were one of the analysts. Logan didn’t mind. It reminded him of the old days, of sitting in dingy bars with teammates, knocking back beers after a hard fight. It felt good. Comfortable.

Too comfortable.

---

That comfort was the problem. The more time Logan spent with you, the more he found himself settling into a routine—a dangerous routine. Sunday dinners. Hockey nights. Coffee in the mornings, with your cheerful voice filling the air as you teased him about his gruffness.

He could feel himself relaxing around you, letting his guard down in ways he hadn’t done in years. And that scared the hell out of him.

Logan had learned long ago that comfort didn’t last. It couldn’t. People left. People died. He was a walking reminder of that. The more comfortable he got, the harder it would be when it all inevitably fell apart. And it would fall apart. It always did.

So he started to pull away.

It wasn’t drastic at first. Just little things. He stopped responding as much when you talked to him. He’d grunt instead of offering actual words. He’d sit in the shop for shorter amounts of time, finishing his coffee faster so he didn’t have to linger in your presence.

You noticed, of course. You weren’t oblivious.

“You okay?” you asked one morning, your usual smile faltering just a little as you set his coffee down in front of him.

Logan didn’t meet your gaze. “Yeah. Fine.”

But he wasn’t fine, and you both knew it.

The following week, he didn’t show up for Sunday dinner. He didn’t even call to cancel—he didn’t have your number anyway. He figured you’d get the message. You didn’t need him complicating your life. You didn’t need his baggage, his darkness.

And he sure as hell didn’t need to get attached to someone who would eventually leave, one way or another.

Days passed, and Logan avoided the coffee shop altogether. He holed up in his cabin, kept to himself, buried his feelings under layers of gruff silence. He told himself it was for the best. He was saving both of them from whatever disaster was waiting down the road.

But the silence that followed his absence was unbearable.

---

You had always been good at reading people, even if they didn’t want to be read. And Logan? He was the kind of guy who had ‘walls’ written all over him, the kind of guy who didn’t let people in easily

***

Logan sat in his small living room, the faint crackle of the fireplace the only sound in the cabin. He had a beer in his hand and an ever-present scowl on his face. The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting the room in shadows, but he didn’t bother to turn on any lights. There was no point. Darkness suited him just fine.

His phone buzzed on the coffee table, and Logan grunted, already knowing who it was without checking. Wade had been pestering him all week, leaving voice messages filled with his usual barrage of nonsense, bad jokes, and bizarre references. Most days, Logan ignored him. But tonight, for reasons he couldn’t quite figure out, he picked up.

“What do you want, Wade?” Logan grumbled as he hit the video call button.

The screen flickered to life, and there was Wade Wilson—Deadpool—grinning like an idiot, wearing what looked like a unicorn onesie, complete with a rainbow mane on the hood.

“Logan!” Wade exclaimed, way too loudly. “My favorite grumpy Canadian! How’s life in the great wide wilderness? Have you finally turned into a lumberjack or are you just planning on brooding yourself into oblivion?”

Logan rolled his eyes, already regretting answering. “What the hell do you want, Wade?”

“What do I want?” Wade gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “What do I want? Just to check in on my best buddy, that’s all! It’s been ages. I’m just making sure you haven’t gotten yourself eaten by a bear or, you know, spontaneously combusted from sheer grumpiness.”

“I’m fine,” Logan said flatly, taking a long pull from his beer.

Wade squinted at him through the screen. “You sure about that, pal? You look like you’ve been chewing on nails and spitting out iron filings. You’re not even gonna give me a smile? Not even a little one?”

Logan grunted. “Don’t push it.”

Wade wiggled his eyebrows. “So, how’s the new reality treating you? You’re all settled in, yeah? Got your cabin, got your woods, got your mysterious brooding vibe going strong. You must be in paradise.”

Logan leaned back in his chair, trying to get comfortable, but Wade’s incessant cheer made it impossible. “It’s fine. Quiet. Just how I like it.”

“Oh sure, I bet,” Wade said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m sure you’re just living the dream out there, all by yourself, surrounded by nothing but trees and loneliness. Except…wait a minute…” He leaned in close to the camera, his eyes narrowing. “What about that neighbor you mentioned once or twice? What was her name?”

Logan answered before he could stop himself.

Wade’s face lit up with a devilish grin. “Ah! That’s the one! Sooo… how’s she doing? Is she still making you that delicious, life-changing coffee?”

Logan’s jaw tightened. He didn’t want to have this conversation. Not with Wade. Not with anyone.

“It’s nothing,” Logan muttered, his voice low. “She’s just… a neighbor.”

Wade leaned back, folding his arms over his chest, clearly enjoying this more than he should. “Just the neighbor, huh? You sure about that? ‘Cause from what I’ve gathered, you’ve been spending a lot of time over at that little coffee shop of hers. And I don’t think it’s just because she makes a killer latte.”

Logan’s grip on the beer bottle tightened. “I go there for the coffee. That’s it.”

“Uh-huh,” Wade said, nodding slowly, his eyes wide with fake innocence. “So, no other reason, huh? Not even a teensy, tiny bit of interest in just her? You’re not, I dunno, secretly enjoying her bubbly personality? Maybe even starting to like the fact that she talks your ear off every morning?”

Logan growled, a low rumble that vibrated through his chest. “I told you, Wade. She’s nothing special. Just an annoying, overly cheerful neighbor who won’t leave me alone.”

Wade’s grin faltered for a second, but Logan didn’t notice. He was too caught up in his own frustration, the words spilling out faster than he could stop them.

“She talks too much. Laughs too damn much. Always smiling, always trying to drag me into these pointless conversations,” Logan snapped, his voice rising. “And she’s always… happy. Like, ridiculously happy. It’s like she’s never had a bad day in her life, and it’s just… it’s too much. I don’t need that. I don’t want that.”

Wade held up a hand, trying to interject, but Logan kept going, his anger building with each word.

“She’s not even a friend. Just this… annoying bother who stumbled into my life and won’t let go. She doesn’t get it—she doesn’t get me. She’s… she’s a distraction. A useless, loud, irritating distraction.”

“Logan—” Wade tried to say, his voice quieter now, but Logan didn’t hear him.

“And what’s worse is, no matter how much I try to push her away, she just keeps coming back. With her damn coffee and her stupid smile and her endless chatter. I don’t need that kind of noise in my life. I don’t need her. I don’t need anyone.”

“Logan—” Wade said again, this time more urgently, his eyes flicking to something off-screen. But Logan wasn’t paying attention.

“I just want to be left alone, Wade. That’s it. Alone.”

There was a beat of silence. The fire crackled in the background, and Logan took a deep breath, his anger slowly ebbing as he realized how much he’d said. He hadn’t meant to go off like that, but once he’d started, the floodgates had opened.

Wade cleared his throat. “Uh… Logan, buddy. You might wanna turn around.”

Logan’s brow furrowed. “What?”

Wade pointed over Logan’s shoulder, a tight, uncomfortable smile on his face. “Turn. Around.”

Logan’s body went rigid. Slowly, he turned in his chair, the weight of Wade’s words sinking into his chest. His heart pounded as his gaze landed on the porch.

And there, standing in the fading light, was you.

You were holding a tray with two cups of coffee and a box—probably filled with some homemade baked goods, knowing you. Your face was pale, eyes wide with shock and hurt. You looked frozen in place, as if you couldn’t quite believe what you’d just heard.

Logan’s mouth went dry, a sinking feeling settling deep in his gut.

You blinked, smile weak, forced, like you were trying to hold it together. “I, uh… I’m sorry,” you said, your voice so soft it barely reached him. “I didn’t mean to… overhear. I just… I brought you some coffee and… and a little something to eat.”

Logan opened his mouth to say something, to explain, but no words came. He was trapped, frozen by the weight of his own mistakes, of everything he’d just said.

Your eyes flicked to the ground, and you set the tray down on the porch railing, hands shaking just slightly. “I’ll… I’ll just go.”

You didn’t wait for him to respond. You didn’t say anything else. You just turned and walked away, the sound of footsteps fading as you disappeared down the gravel road toward your house.

Logan stood there, staring at the tray you’d left behind, a hollow ache spreading through his chest. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to do.

He’d hurt you. The one thing he’d tried so hard not to do, and he’d done it anyway.

Behind him, Wade’s voice broke the heavy silence. “Well, Logan, you really stepped in it this time.”

Logan didn’t respond. He just stood there, his fists clenched at his sides, watching the spot where you had been moments before, his mind racing with all the things he wished he could take back.

But it was too late.

You were gone.

***

You could still remember the day you first saw him—the man who seemed to be carved out of stone, with a permanent scowl etched on his face and eyes that carried the weight of the world. He’d been sitting on the porch of his small, weather-beaten cabin, a cigar clamped between his teeth, exuding an aura of "stay the hell away." And yet, there was something about him that drew you in. Maybe it was because, despite that gruff exterior, you sensed something familiar. Something like loneliness.

You had just moved into your new home, a quaint little place down the road. It wasn’t much, but it was yours. After years of drifting from place to place, trying to find somewhere that felt like home, You had finally found this sleepy little town. It had charm, history, and enough distance from your past to feel like a fresh start.

Your coffee shop, Beans of Heaven, had been a dream for years, and now it was finally real. You poured your heart into the place—every morning waking up early to bake pastries, grind fresh coffee beans, and create an atmosphere that felt warm and welcoming. But something was missing. Maybe someone was missing.

Then there was Logan, your grumpy, brooding neighbor who never smiled and hardly ever spoke. He intrigued you in ways you couldn’t explain, but more than that, he reminded you of something you had been missing for a long time: companionship. And though you knew he was the type of man who would rather chew glass than have a heartfelt conversation, you wanted to get to know him. You wanted to be his friend.

---

The first time you approached Logan, you were filled with usual optimism. You had introduced yourself with a wide smile, carrying a box of fresh pastries and two cups of coffee—hoping that a bit of kindness might crack through his tough exterior. His reaction, or lack thereof, had been exactly what you’d expected: a grunt, a nod, and nothing more.

Most people would’ve given up after that first encounter. You weren’t most people.

You didn’t let Logan’s cold demeanor deter you. Day after day, you greeted him at the shop with the same enthusiasm, offering him a free coffee or some fresh-baked cookies. He never accepted anything beyond his usual black coffee, and most of the time he’d just sit in silence, staring out the window. But still, he came back, and that was enough to encourage you.

You had always been the “bubbly” one. The girl with too much energy, too much cheer. It was part of who you were, and you liked to believe that this positivity could rub off on others. But in reality, making friends has never been easy for you. People would be drawn to the warmth and laughter at first, but eventually, they’d drift away. Your constant need for connection, endless talking, enthusiasm—it all became too much for them.

You’d had friends in the past—plenty of them, in fact—but they never stayed for long. They would start to roll their eyes when you laughed too hard or sigh when you talked too much. Slowly, subtly, they’d pull away, leaving you feeling like you were always too much. Too much of a handful. Too much energy. Too much emotion.

So when Logan accepted your invitation to Sunday dinner for the first time, you had been over the moon. He had seemed so closed off, so unreachable, that you hadn’t expected him to agree. And yet, there he was, sitting at your table, cutting into a steak and grumbling his way through dinner. He wasn’t exactly the picture of warmth, but just having him there, sharing a meal with you, felt like a small victory.

Then came the hockey night. Logan had invited you over, and for once, it wasn’t you doing all the pushing. You’d sit on his couch, cheering on the players, feeling more alive than you had in a long time. For a while, everything felt… comfortable.

It was strange to feel so at ease around someone like Logan, but that was the thing—despite his grumpiness, despite his silence—he made you feel safe. You didn’t feel the need to tone yourself down or apologize for being “too much.” With Logan, you could be herself, and that feeling was rare.

---

As the weeks went by, you found herself growing closer to Logan, though “closer” in Logan’s world didn’t mean much. He still grumbled more than he spoke, and he rarely shared anything personal. But the fact that he kept showing up—whether it was for coffee in the mornings, or Sunday dinners at your place—meant more to you than you could ever express.

And somewhere along the way, your feelings started to change.

It wasn’t just friendship you were after anymore. No, it had become something much deeper than that.

You were falling for Logan. Fast and hard.

You hadn’t meant to. It wasn’t like you had planned on it. But there was something about him—something in the way he was so guarded, so rough around the edges, yet kind in the smallest of ways—that made your heart ache. You had seen glimpses of who he really was beneath that tough exterior, and those glimpses made you want to know more. Made you want him.

It was the little things that got to you. Like the way he’d sit quietly and actually listen to you, even when you rambled on about random things. Or how he’d sometimes mutter a sarcastic comment that made you laugh, even when you knew he was trying to sound annoyed. There was a softness to him, buried deep down, and you wanted to uncover it. You wanted to make him smile.

But Logan was a hard man to read, and just when you thought they were becoming friends, just when you thought there might be something more between them, he started pulling away.

---

It wasn’t drastic at first. Just small changes. Logan became quieter, more distant. He stopped responding as much when you talked, going back to his old ways of grunting and nodding instead of giving those rare, short responses you had come to appreciate.

Then, he started spending less time at the coffee shop. He’d come in, get his coffee, and leave without saying much. The conversations you both used to have, no matter how one-sided, seemed to dwindle, replaced by a heavy silence that you didn’t know how to break.

It hurt. You didn’t want to admit it, but it did. After all the time they’d spent together, after all the dinners and the quiet moments, you had started to believe that maybe—just maybe—Logan felt the same way about you as you did about him.

But his distance told you otherwise.

You had never been good at confrontation. You hated the idea of pushing someone into talking about something they didn’t want to. But with Logan, it was different. You didn’t want to lose whatever connection you had. You didn’t want to be just another person who drifted away from him.

So, one evening, you made up your mind. You were going to talk to him. Maybe even… ask him out. You had never been this nervous before, not with anyone else. But Logan was different. He mattered.

You baked his favorite dessert—black olive brownies, not too sweet, just like he liked them. It was something he had mentioned in passing once, a rare glimpse into the things he enjoyed. You had never heard of anyone liking such a strange combination, but you had found a recipe and made it work. You wanted it to be perfect.

Logan had given you a key to his cabin a while ago—“Just in case,” he had said, gruffly, one day after dinner. He’d made it sound like no big deal, but to you, it had meant everything. He trusted you, at least in some small way.

---

That evening, you decided you’d surprise him. Show up with the brownies and some coffee, and just… talk. Maybe you’d tell him how you felt. Maybe you wouldn’t. But at the very least, you wanted to clear the air between you two. You didn’t want to lose him.

You walked up the gravel path to his cabin, your heart pounding in your chest, the tray of brownies carefully balanced in your hands. You were nervous—more nervous than you’d ever been—but you told yourself that everything would be fine. Logan wasn’t the type of man who would just shut you out completely. He wouldn’t hurt you. Not intentionally.

But as you reached the porch, you heard voices.

Logan’s voice, deep and rough, coming from inside the cabin. And someone else—someone familiar.

You paused just before you reached the door, your hand halfway to the knob. It was Wade’s voice. You smiled to herself, remembering the way Logan would grumble about Wade’s constant calls and visits. He’d only ever mentioned Wade a few times, but you could tell the two of them had a complicated friendship.

You didn’t mean to eavesdrop. You didn’t want to. But something in Logan’s tone stopped you in her tracks.

“…she’s just an annoying, overly cheerful neighbor who won’t leave me alone.”

You froze.

Your heart clenched in your chest as the words sunk in, cutting through you like a knife. You told yourself you must have misheard, that maybe Logan was talking about someone else, but then he continued.

“She’s not even a friend. Just this… annoying bother who stumbled into my life and won’t let go. She doesn’t get it—she doesn’t get me. She’s a distraction. A useless, loud, irritating distraction.”

You felt your hands start to shake, the tray of brownies wobbling in your grasp. You could hear Wade trying to interrupt him, trying to stop him, but Logan’s voice kept going, his words growing harsher, more defensive.

“I just want to be left alone, Wade. That’s it. Alone.”

The world seemed to tilt on its axis as you stood there, frozen on the porch. Your mind raced, your heart pounding so loud you could barely hear anything else. You had come here to talk to him, to open yourself up in a way you hadn’t done in years. You had thought—no, had hoped—that maybe Logan cared about you, even in his gruff, distant way.

But now, standing there, hearing him tear you apart with his words, you realized how wrong you had been.

You had always been too much for people. Too much energy. Too much positivity. Too much… everything. And now, once again, you have pushed someone away without even realizing it.

Your stupid, foolish heart had fallen for someone who didn’t want you. Who didn’t even see you as a friend. You had been a distraction to him—nothing more than a nuisance he had tolerated out of some sense of politeness.

Tears stung your eyes, but you blinked them away. You wouldn’t cry. Not here. Not now.

You set the tray of brownies down on the porch railing, Your hands trembling as you adjusted the coffee cups next to them. You stood there for a moment, staring at the door at Logan, when he turned around.

Taking a deep breath, you forced a weak smile onto your face. It was a habit. Something you did when you needed to hold yourself together.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, to Logan. “I didn’t mean to… bother you.”

With that, you turned and walked away, your heart breaking with every step.

---

You had always been the type of person who saw the best in people. You believed in second chances, in redemption, in the idea that everyone deserves kindness. But now, as you walked back to your little house down the road, you felt that familiar ache settling deep in your chest—the one you had felt too many times before.

You had been too much for Logan. Just like you had been too much for everyone else in your life. Friends, acquaintances, even your family—they had all grown tired of you eventually. Of your laughter, energy, the need to connect with people. You had tried so hard to fit in, to make yourself smaller, to be less of a burden. But it never worked.

And now, Logan—the one person you had thought might be different—had proven you wrong.

You were destined to be alone. To always be too much for people to handle.

Logan had made it clear how he felt.

He wanted to be alone, and you would respect that. You wouldn’t bother him anymore. You wouldn’t force your way into his life, trying to make him laugh or smile or feel anything at all. You would leave him alone, just like he wanted.

And maybe, just maybe, you’d learn to live with that.

***

Logan hadn’t planned on hurting you. Hell, he hadn’t planned on any of it. He’d only been trying to keep you at arm’s length—just like he did with everyone else. It wasn’t like he was good with people. He’d learned that a long time ago, that anyone who got close to him ended up hurt one way or another. He was a mess of scars and guilt, haunted by too many lifetimes of pain. He was trying to save you from that.

But now, sitting alone in his cabin, the familiar quiet pressing in on him from all sides, Logan realized just how wrong he’d been. The stillness, the silence—it wasn’t the peace he’d been craving. It was suffocating.

He had driven you away.

It had been days since you’d heard him call you “an annoying, overly cheerful neighbor who wouldn’t leave him alone.” Days since you’d heard him say you weren’t even a friend, that you were just a distraction, a bother. Days since he’d noticed the way your smile had faltered, the way your shoulders had slumped ever so slightly before you quietly left, your tray of coffee and brownies left behind like a sad reminder of what he’d done.

At first, Logan had convinced himself it was for the best. You’d get over it, move on with your life, and he’d go back to the way things were before you’d stumbled into his world. Before you’d made him laugh—actually laugh—or shared your endless supply of kindness, even when he’d done nothing to deserve it.

But that wasn’t how it went.

You didn’t bounce back like you usually did. You didn’t come by the cabin the next day, or the day after that. And the longer the days stretched without you, the heavier Logan’s chest felt. The realization hit him slowly but forcefully: he didn’t want to go back to how things were before.

He missed you.

***

Logan hadn’t stepped foot in your shop since that night, but after nearly a week of dodging the place, he finally couldn’t stand it anymore. So he went. The bell above the door jingled as he walked in, and the familiar scent of fresh coffee and pastries filled the air. But something was off. Something that made Logan’s gut twist uncomfortably.

You were there behind the counter, as usual, but you weren’t the same. Gone was the lively energy that always filled the shop, replaced by a quietness that felt entirely wrong in this place. You weren’t laughing with customers or talking their ears off about the latest coffee blend you were experimenting with. You were polite, efficient, but that was it. Nothing more.

And when you saw him, your expression didn’t change. No smile, no warmth. Just a quiet nod as you took his order like he was any other customer.

It stung more than Logan cared to admit.

He approached the counter, trying to find the words—words he wasn’t good at, words that felt heavy and awkward in his mouth. “Look, I… I’m sorry,” he grumbled, his voice low, rough, as if the words themselves were foreign to him.

You looked up at him, your eyes soft but distant, and gave him a small, tight smile. “There’s no need to apologize, Logan. Really. It’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine. It was anything but fine, and he could see it in the way you held yourself. You were still kind, still polite, but there was a distance there now, a wall that hadn’t been there before. It was like you had taken all that warmth you used to shower him with and locked it away, offering him only the bare minimum.

“You don’t need to act like… like nothing happened,” Logan muttered, his frustration bubbling up despite himself. He didn’t know how to fix this, but he hated the way you were looking at him like he was just another face in the crowd.

But you shook your head, that same small, strained smile on your face. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I understand.”

You turned to grab his coffee, but Logan could see the slight tremble in your hands. You were hurt, even if you weren’t saying it outright. And you were trying so damn hard to pretend like it didn’t matter, like his words hadn’t struck you right in the heart.

When you handed him the coffee, your eyes briefly flickered with something—something like sadness—but then it was gone, replaced with that same forced politeness.

“Thanks,” he muttered, taking the cup. He lingered for a moment, hoping you’d say something more, but you didn’t. You just moved on to the next customer, your back turned to him like he wasn’t even there.

Logan left the shop feeling worse than he had when he walked in.

The next few days were no better. Logan started coming back to the coffee shop more regularly, hoping to find a way to fix things, but every time, you treated him the same. Like any other customer. No more easy conversation, no more warmth in your voice, no more lingering smiles.

You were kind, but you were distant. Every interaction felt like a transaction—polite, professional, but cold. And the worst part? Logan could see how much it hurt you to act that way. He could see the moments where you started to talk to him like you used to, where your eyes lit up for a split second like you wanted to tell him about something funny that happened or share one of your stories. But then you’d catch yourself, and the light would die, replaced by that same tired, distant smile.

You were holding yourself back, and Logan knew it was because of him.

He wasn’t the only one who noticed the change in you. Some of your regulars—people who had known you long before Logan ever showed up—started asking if everything was okay. You just brushed them off with a laugh, saying you were tired or had been busy lately, but Logan knew better.

It was his words that had drained you. His careless, stupid words that had taken the best part of you—the part that had always been so full of life—and dimmed it.

And it killed him to know that.

***

The worst part came on a Saturday afternoon before your Sunday dinner meeting the next day, just as Logan was about to leave the shop. He had started to make a habit of stopping by, hoping that maybe—just maybe—you’d start talking to him like you used to. That maybe you’d give him a chance to make things right. But that hadn’t happened. Not yet.

As he reached the door, your voice stopped him.

“Logan?” you called softly, and he turned to see you standing behind the counter, your hands nervously fidgeting with a dishtowel.

“Yeah?” he grunted, turning to face you fully, his brow furrowed.

You hesitated, your eyes flicking to the floor before you spoke. “About tomorrow… You don’t have to come to dinner if you don’t want to. I… I understand if you’d rather not.”

Logan’s heart sank. You had always invited him to Sunday dinner, ever since you’d become friends. It had become part of the routine, something comfortable and familiar. And now, you were telling him it was okay if he didn’t come. That he didn’t have to be there.

The way you said it—the quiet resignation in your voice—it was like you were apologizing for existing. Like you thought you’d pushed him too far by inviting him into your life, by asking for his company.

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with a soft sadness. “I’m sorry if I… if I pushed too hard. I just… I thought maybe you enjoyed it. But if you don’t, it’s okay. I don’t want to bother you.”

Logan stared at you, his throat tight, his chest heavy with guilt. You thought you were the one who had pushed too hard? You thought you were the one who needed to apologize?

“Don’t,” he muttered, his voice rough. “Don’t do that. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

You just gave him a small, sad smile. “It’s okay, Logan. Really. I understand.”

You didn’t wait for his response. You just turned back to the counter, your shoulders slumped as you busied yourself with cleaning up, as if the conversation had never happened. As if you weren’t slowly slipping away from him, bit by bit.

Logan left the shop with a heavy heart, the weight of everything he’d done crashing down on him all at once.

***

Logan stared at the TV, barely seeing the game. The familiar roar of the crowd, the sharp scrape of skates on ice—all of it faded into the background as his mind drifted back to you.

The silence in the cabin was suffocating. Usually, you’d be here by now, sitting next to him on the couch, your laughter filling the room as you tried to explain to him why one team’s jersey design was superior to the other. You didn’t know much about hockey, but it never stopped you from trying to keep up.

But tonight, the couch beside him was empty.

Logan shifted uncomfortably, his hand resting on the cold beer he hadn’t even opened. He thought back to yesterday, to the way you’d looked at him when you told him he didn’t have to come to dinner. The quiet apology in your voice, the way you’d tried to act like everything was fine even though it clearly wasn’t. You’d been pulling away, bit by bit, and Logan had done nothing to stop it.

He couldn’t shake the image of you standing behind the counter, your usual light dimmed, your eyes tired in a way that had nothing to do with sleep. And the worst part was, you had apologized to him. You had made it seem like you were the problem, like you had pushed too hard when in reality, it was him who had shoved you away.

And now, here he was—alone, with nothing but the echo of your absence to keep him company.

Logan reached for his phone, his fingers hovering over the screen for a moment before he sighed, setting it down on the table with a heavy thud. He didn’t know how to fix this. He wasn’t good at apologies, wasn’t good at talking about his feelings or admitting when he’d screwed up. But he couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t.

And then, like a lightbulb flickering on in the back of his mind, he realized there was only one person he could call.

Logan stared at his phone for what felt like hours, the gnawing pit in his stomach getting worse with every passing minute. He didn’t want to make this call. Of all the people in the world, Wade Wilson was the last person Logan wanted to ask for help. But Wade had been there that night. He had seen everything—and worse, he had seen you.

That meant Wade knew. And if Wade knew, well, Logan had no choice but to call him.

With a resigned sigh, Logan tapped Wade’s number. The phone rang twice before Wade’s obnoxious voice burst through the speaker.

“Logan! My brooding, hairy amigo! What can I do for you? You need a babysitter for Laura? Oh, oh! Wait, I got it—you wanna do a buddy cop movie together! I’ll be the zany, charming sidekick, and you can be the angry guy who growls a lot. Wait, you already do that. So I’ll be—"

“Wade,” Logan growled, cutting him off. “I need your help.”

There was a pause, and Logan could almost hear the grin forming on Wade’s face.

“Oh my God. Hold on. Hold the f—beep—up,” Wade said, dropping his voice like he was narrating a dramatic trailer. “‘Logan needs my help.’ Wow. Wow, guys, are we hearing this? Logan, a.k.a. the Grumpiest X-Man, a.k.a. ‘I don’t need anybody,’ is asking me for help. This is huge! Character development, people! Mark this down for the sequel.”

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose, already regretting the call. “Wade…”

“Okay, okay, I’m done. I’m done. What’s the problem? Did you finally realize that leather jackets and flannel aren’t a personality?”

Logan gritted his teeth. “It’s about her.”

Another pause. Then, in classic Wade fashion, the tone shifted completely. “Ohhh. Right, the cute neighbor girl with the coffee shop. The one you totally ruined. I remember now. Dude, you really shit the bed on that one, huh?”

Logan clenched his fist, the memory of that night still fresh in his mind. “Yeah… she heard me say some things. Things I didn’t mean.”

“Oh nooo,” Wade groaned dramatically, dragging out the vowels. “You did the whole ‘I’m a lone wolf, I don’t need friends, emotions are for weaklings’ bit, didn’t you? The classic Logan screw-up! Ten out of ten, would not recommend.”

Logan didn’t respond, which was answer enough.

“Dude, she was standing right there with coffee and brownies!” Wade continued. “You might as well have drop-kicked a puppy in front of her. It was painful to watch! I mean, not as painful as X-Men Origins: Wolverine, but still…” He paused, and Logan could practically hear him smirking. “You know she left that tray behind, right? I ate the brownies. They were a little too sweet, but solid effort. Girl’s got a good heart.”

Logan growled, feeling the sting of regret twist deeper in his chest. “I get it, Wade. I messed up.”

“Yeah, no kidding. But here’s the thing, Wolvie,” Wade said, his tone suddenly shifting to something more genuine. “She didn’t just hear you. She heard you, you know? She was standing right there. That ‘annoying’ comment? That hit her like a damn truck. And if you think she’s just going to bounce back with a smile and a cup of coffee like nothing happened, you’re delusional. This is a Hallmark movie waiting to happen, and right now, you’re the grumpy lumberjack who just drove her back to the city.”

Logan swallowed, the weight of Wade’s words hitting him hard. He hadn’t just hurt you; he’d made you feel like you didn’t matter. And for someone like you—someone who put so much heart into everything you did—that was unforgivable.

“So what do I do?” Logan muttered, his voice low.

“You gotta fix it, obviously,” Wade replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You’ve gotta show her that you care. And yeah, that means talking about your feelings, Logan. I know it’s your least favorite thing after happy endings and Deadpool sequels, but tough luck. She’s not a mind reader. You gotta tell her what she means to you.”

Logan frowned. “I don’t… I don’t know how to do that.”

Wade made a dramatic sigh. “Oh, come on! You’ve got claws, a healing factor, and that grizzled Clint Eastwood vibe going on, but you don’t know how to tell a girl you care about her? Listen, all you gotta do is be real. Apologize for being an emotionally constipated idiot, and tell her the truth. That’s it. No drama. No over-the-top declarations of love. Just tell her how you feel.”

Logan sat in silence, the weight of Wade’s words sinking in. He knew Wade was right—God help him, Wade was actually right. If he didn’t fix this, he’d lose you. And after everything, he couldn’t let that happen.

“And for the record,” Wade added, breaking the silence, “if this turns into some epic romantic moment, I better be invited to the wedding. I’ve already got a Deadpool tux ordered, and trust me, it’s glorious.”

Logan sighed, already regretting the call. “Thanks, Wade.”

“Anytime, Wolvie,” Wade chirped, his voice back to its usual annoying cheer. “Now go make things right, and remember—don’t stab anyone while apologizing. That’s generally frowned upon.”

Logan hung up, staring at the phone for a moment longer. Wade’s advice was ringing in his ears. He had to fix this. He had to tell you the truth, no matter how hard it was.

Because losing you wasn’t an option.

***

Logan stood outside your coffee shop, the weight of his own guilt pressing down on him harder than any enemy he’d ever faced. He’d never been good with words, never been good at talking about feelings or admitting when he was wrong. But this? This was something he had to do.

The bell above the door jingled as he pushed it open, the familiar scent of coffee and freshly baked pastries filling the air. It was a comfort, but today, it did little to ease the tension in his chest.

You were behind the counter, as always, but Logan could tell right away that something had changed. You weren’t your usual self. Gone was the bright energy that had always seemed to follow you around like a cloud of sunshine. You smiled at customers, sure, but it was strained, and your usual chatter was replaced by polite, quiet exchanges.

Logan made his way to the counter, the words of apology swirling in his head, but when you looked up at him, something inside him twisted painfully. You looked tired—not physically, but emotionally. The light in your eyes had dimmed, and it was all because of him.

“Logan,” you greeted him softly, your voice polite but distant. “What can I get you?”

He shifted awkwardly, his usual gruff demeanor faltering as he tried to find the words. “We need to talk,” he said, his voice low.

You hesitated for a moment, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of the counter. “I’m working right now,” you replied, your tone calm but guarded. “But we can talk later. After I close up.”

Logan swallowed the lump in his throat. The distance in your voice was like a knife twisting in his gut, but he nodded. “I’ll wait,” he muttered.

You gave him a small, tight smile, the same one you’d been giving him ever since that night. The same one that wasn’t real.

“Okay,” you said quietly, and then you turned back to your work, leaving Logan standing there, feeling more lost than ever.

As he left the shop, Logan couldn’t shake the image of you trying to hold it all together—trying to act like his words hadn’t hurt you when he knew damn well they had.

And that was when he realized: this was the moment Wade had warned him about. He couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine. He had to tell you the truth, or he’d lose you for good.

And losing you was something he couldn’t handle.

***

Logan stood in the dim light of Beans of Heaven, waiting for the last customer to leave. The smell of fresh coffee hung in the air, comforting but laced with tension. He had rehearsed this conversation a thousand times in his head, but the words felt like jagged rocks in his throat. He wasn’t good at this—never had been. Hell, most of his life had been spent avoiding conversations like this altogether. But tonight, Logan couldn’t avoid it anymore.

You were cleaning up behind the counter, your movements slower than usual, the exhaustion clear in the way your shoulders sagged. You hadn’t said much to him since the night you overheard him—a few words here and there, nothing more. Logan didn’t blame you. He’d hurt you. Badly. And now, he had to own up to it.

When the last customer finally walked out, you turned the sign on the door to "Closed" and exhaled softly. You didn’t even glance his way as you started wiping down the tables. It was like the distance between you had grown into a chasm, one that Logan didn’t know how to cross.

But he was going to try.

“Can we talk?” Logan asked, his voice gruff but quiet.

You paused mid-wipe, your back still turned to him. There was a long, tense moment before you nodded and turned around to face him, leaning against the counter. You didn’t say anything, but your eyes told him enough—you were listening, but barely. Your guard was up, and Logan had no one to blame but himself for that.

“Let’s sit,” Logan said, gesturing to one of the tables.

You hesitated, then walked over to the table and sat down. Logan followed, his heart pounding harder than it had in any battle he’d fought. This wasn’t like fighting an enemy—he couldn’t punch his way through this. He had to speak, to explain himself, and that scared the hell out of him.

He sat across from you, his hands resting on the table, fingers tapping against the wood as he searched for the right words. For a moment, he just looked at you—your face drawn, tired, but still beautiful in that way that had pulled him in from the start. And he hated himself for what he was about to say, for the truth that was going to spill out.

“You deserve the truth,” Logan began, his voice low, rough. “About me. About why I… pushed you away.”

Your eyes flicked up to meet his, and he saw the hurt there, the confusion you’d been carrying ever since that night. He swallowed hard and continued.

“I ain’t from here,” he said, the words awkward as they came out. “Not… this world, I mean. I come from another universe. I came here—ended up here—after a lot of shit went down. My past… it’s a mess. Hell, I’m a mess.”

Your brow furrowed slightly, but you didn’t interrupt. Logan knew he had to keep going, to let the words out before he lost the nerve.

“I was part of a team once,” Logan continued, his gaze dropping to his hands. “The X-Men. We fought for something bigger than ourselves. We tried to make things better… tried to protect people. But I failed them. I let them die. All of ‘em. Professor X, Scott, Jean… the people I cared about most in the world. I couldn’t save them. And it broke me.”

He clenched his fists, the memories crashing down on him like a wave. He had relived those moments over and over again—his failure, the pain of losing everyone he loved.

“I ain’t good with people. Never have been,” Logan said, his voice raw. “I’ve spent my whole life pushing people away, ‘cause I know what happens when they get close. They get hurt. Or worse. I’ve seen it too many times.”

Logan hesitated, his eyes flicking back up to yours. There was something there—a softness, a flicker of understanding, but the hurt was still lingering behind it.

“That night,” Logan said, his voice dropping even lower, “when Wade started talkin’ about you… about us… I panicked. All I could think about was how I didn’t want to drag you into my mess. How I didn’t want to get close, ‘cause I knew it’d end up the same way it always does. So I said those things—those stupid, hurtful things. I didn’t mean ‘em. But I said ‘em anyway.”

Your expression didn’t change, but your fingers tightened around the edge of the table. Logan exhaled, feeling the weight of his confession pressing down on him.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he continued, his voice thick with regret. “But I did. And I can’t take that back. I don’t expect you to forgive me, or to trust me again. But you deserve to know that none of this is your fault. I pushed you away because of me. Because I’m afraid of losing you. Of losing anyone else.”

The silence that followed felt like it stretched on forever. Logan stared at the table, waiting for your response, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn’t know what he expected—anger, tears, maybe even for you to get up and walk away.

But when you finally spoke, your voice was quiet, steady.

“You hurt me, Logan,” you said, and the words hit him like a punch to the gut. “I’ve spent my whole life being the person who’s too much. Too loud. Too bubbly. People get tired of me. They always do. And when you said those things… it felt like you were just like the rest of them. Like you’d gotten tired of me too.”

Logan clenched his jaw, hating himself more with every word you spoke. He hadn’t just hurt you—he’d made you feel like you weren’t enough. Like you were the problem, when it was really him all along.

“I ain’t tired of you,” Logan said, his voice hoarse. “It wasn’t about that. It was my own damn head, my fears… my screwed-up past. I never wanted to hurt you. I swear.”

You looked at him for a long moment, your eyes searching his face as if you were trying to find some piece of the truth hidden there. Logan waited, his chest tight, his breath shallow. The silence between you felt heavy, thick with everything that had been left unsaid for too long.

When the silence stretched on too long, Logan shifted uncomfortably in his seat, murmuring a soft, “I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say. He’d laid it all out, and now it was up to you.

Logan pushed back from the table, ready to leave—ready to give you the space you needed, the space he had denied you by showing up tonight. He stood up, muttering, “I’ll leave you be. I shouldn’t have—”

“Logan.”

Your voice stopped him mid-step, and he turned to look at you, surprised.

You weren’t looking at him directly, but your voice was softer now, a little less guarded. “There’s a Cup final this Friday, and I was thinking… I could really go for some good beer.”

Logan stared at you for a second, processing your words. It wasn’t much—it wasn’t forgiveness, not yet—but it was something. It was an opening.

And for the first time in days, Logan felt a glimmer of hope.

“Beer, huh?” Logan grunted, his lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smile. “I think I can manage that.”

You looked up at him then, a small, tentative smile playing at the corners of your lips. And in that moment, Logan knew—he hadn’t lost you completely. Not yet.

***

Logan noticed it in the way your conversations shifted. There was a playfulness between you now that hadn’t always been there before. You teased each other more, flirted even—though you hadn’t quite called it that yet. It was lighthearted at first, a few sarcastic remarks here, a little banter there, but it started to build into something more, something that made Logan’s chest tighten every time you smiled in response to one of his comments.

There were nights when the two of you would close up the shop together, and instead of going your separate ways, you’d sit together in the shop long after it had closed, sharing stories and laughing about things that weren’t even that funny. Logan would bring over a six-pack of beer or you’d dig into the pastries that didn’t sell that day, both of you just… existing together in a way that felt easy, natural.

And the flirting? It became less subtle over time. There was a heat behind it now, a charge that wasn’t there before, like the two of you were slowly testing the waters of something more but neither of you wanted to be the first to dive in.

One night, Logan had come over to your place, a rare occurrence, but something that was happening more frequently. You had invited him over after the shop had closed, and instead of sitting in silence or watching hockey, you’d both cracked open some beers and ended up watching a cheesy romantic comedy that was so bad, it was actually kind of good.

The movie wasn’t exactly what Logan had expected—it was all grand gestures and overly dramatic declarations of love—but there was something about watching it with you that made it… bearable. More than bearable, actually. He found himself laughing along with you, making sarcastic remarks at the ridiculous plot, and somewhere along the way, he realized that he was enjoying it.

Not because of the movie itself, but because of you.

You’d both sat on the couch, not quite touching but close enough that Logan could feel the warmth of your body beside his. And as the movie dragged on, filled with all the usual rom-com clichés, Logan couldn’t help but think about how different this felt—how different you felt. There was something so easy about being around you, something that calmed the constant storm in his head.

But there was something else too.

Logan found himself watching you more than the movie, the sound of your laughter pulling him out of his own thoughts. He’d never really thought about it before, but your laughter was like a balm—so different from the world he was used to. It wasn’t just noise. It was light, something that made his chest tighten in a way that felt both unfamiliar and too familiar at the same time.

When you caught him watching, you didn’t call him out for it. You just smiled, that warm, knowing smile that made him feel like maybe, just maybe, you understood him in ways no one else ever had.

“Logan,” you said softly, your eyes twinkling with amusement as the credits finally started to roll, “why do we always watch these terrible movies?”

Logan grunted, cracking open another beer. “You like ‘em,” he muttered, his usual gruff response. But there was something softer behind it now, something that wasn’t just irritation.

You chuckled, nudging his shoulder playfully. “Yeah, but you could just say no, you know. You don’t have to suffer through them with me.”

Logan shot you a sideways glance, his lips twitching into a small smirk. “Ain’t sufferin’.”

That made you pause for a moment, your expression softening as you looked at him. There was a flicker of something in your eyes—something that made Logan’s heart pound a little harder in his chest.

“Logan,” you said again, your voice quiet but steady, “when are you going to ask me out already?”

Logan’s breath caught in his throat. He wasn’t expecting you to be so direct—not tonight, not while you were sitting there in the afterglow of a stupid romantic movie you both hated and loved to hate. But there it was, out in the open, plain as day. The unspoken thing between you, finally given a name.

He didn’t answer at first. He just stared at you, his mind spinning as he tried to process what you’d just said. For so long, he’d kept that part of himself buried—the part that wanted more than just friendship, the part that wanted you. He’d been terrified of it, terrified of what it would mean if he let himself feel that way. But now, sitting here with you, the question hanging in the air between you, he wasn’t afraid anymore.

“I… don’t know,” Logan muttered, his voice low, but there was no hesitation in his tone. “Guess I’ve been thinkin’ about it.”

You tilted your head, your lips curving into a small smile. “And?”

Logan’s eyes flicked up to meet yours, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he let himself be honest.

“And I think I want to,” he admitted, his voice rough but sincere. “I just… I don’t want to mess this up. Don’t want to hurt you.”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you leaned in closer, your hand resting gently on his arm. It was a small gesture, but it sent a jolt of warmth through him, one that settled deep in his chest.

“Logan,” you said softly, your eyes searching his, “you won’t mess this up. I know you. I know who you are, and I know what you’re afraid of. But I’m not going anywhere.”

Logan swallowed hard, the weight of your words hitting him straight in the gut. He’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for the inevitable moment when he’d push you too far, or when you’d get tired of him, like everyone else had. But you weren’t like the others. You were still here, still looking at him with those warm, understanding eyes, still offering him more kindness than he thought he deserved.

And for once, Logan didn’t feel the need to run.

He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with yours as the space between you disappeared. It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t some grand gesture like the ones in those stupid rom-coms. It was quiet, simple. But it was real.

“I’m askin’ you now,” Logan murmured, his voice low, his lips brushing against yours. “Will you go out with me?”

Your smile widened, and you leaned in to close the distance between you, pressing your lips to his in a soft, slow kiss that said more than words ever could.

When you finally pulled back, your eyes sparkled with that familiar light that Logan had grown to love.

“Took you long enough,” you teased, your voice soft but filled with warmth.

Logan chuckled, his hand gently cupping your cheek. “Yeah. Guess I’m a slow learner.”

But for the first time in a long time, Logan wasn’t afraid of what came next. He wasn’t afraid of letting you in, of letting himself feel something more than just the weight of his past.

Because with you, it didn’t feel like he was carrying that burden alone anymore.

***

Logan hadn’t been on a date in… well, longer than he cared to admit. Most of his relationships in the past had been more of the “let’s get this over with” variety, not the kind of thing you planned or made special. But this—you—was different. He wanted to do this right. Wanted to show you that he was serious, that you mattered.

The problem was, he didn’t have a damn clue what “doing it right” even meant. What did people do on dates nowadays? Was it still flowers and a fancy dinner, or was that too old-fashioned? The last time Logan had actively thought about dating, people were still sending telegrams. He needed help, but the only person who came to mind made him groan internally.

Wade.

Of course, it had to be Wade.

Logan knew what he was getting himself into when he dialed the number, but that didn’t stop the immediate regret that washed over him when Wade answered on the first ring.

“Wolverine! You calling to finally admit that I’m the most charming, delightful human being in your life? Or is this about the wedding? Because, listen, I already have the tux, and it’s a Deadpool tux. It’s perfect. You’re gonna love it.”

Logan rubbed the bridge of his nose, already tired. “Wade, I need advice.”

There was a beat of silence, and then, predictably, Wade launched into a full-on monologue.

“Oh my God. Everyone stop! Logan needs advice! This is monumental! This is character development at its finest, folks. Truly groundbreaking stuff. So what is it? Planning a trip to the library? Want me to help you pick out your next flannel shirt? Or—wait, wait. It’s about her, isn’t it?”

Logan’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t deny it. “Yeah. I need to plan a date.”

“A DATE?!” Wade’s voice went up several octaves, and Logan immediately regretted every decision that had led him to this moment. “Oh, this is amazing! I knew it! I knew it! You and her, finally making it happen! See, I told you—grumpy loners can find love too!”

“Wade,” Logan growled, already losing his patience.

“Right, right. Focus,” Wade said, his tone shifting into something resembling helpfulness. “So, you’re planning a date. And you’re completely clueless, right? No worries, big guy. Your ol’ pal Wade is here to help you out. Here’s what you do: skip the over-the-top romantic crap. Don’t try to be something you’re not. She likes you for you, not for some shiny version of Logan who shows up with roses and a speech. Just… do something the two of you will actually enjoy. Something that won’t make either of you uncomfortable.”

Logan frowned, considering Wade’s words. As much as he hated to admit it, Wade had a point. A candlelit dinner at some fancy restaurant wasn’t him, and it sure as hell wasn’t you. You’d see right through it, and the last thing Logan wanted was to make you feel uncomfortable.

“Just be yourself, man,” Wade continued, as if he hadn’t already dropped enough wisdom for one phone call. “Do something that’ll make you both relax. Oh! And if things go well, don’t forget—consent is sexy. It’s the Wade Wilson guarantee.”

Logan grimaced. “Thanks, Wade.”

“Anytime! And remember—if you need a hype man, I’m your guy. I’ll show up in my tux with a bouquet of tacos and—”

Logan hung up before Wade could finish.

Wade’s words echoed in Logan’s mind as he sat at the kitchen table, staring at his phone. What could he do that would make this date feel like them? Something simple, something that would make you both comfortable.

Then it hit him.

That lake you had mentioned a while back—the one you’d talked about like it was the most peaceful place in the world. You’d told him about it on one of your long walks, how you used to go there to clear your head, to escape the noise of the world. A place where the stars felt closer, and everything else just… disappeared.

Logan could work with that. He wasn’t about to cook for you (that would probably end in disaster), but he could pick up some food, pack a cooler, and take you to that lake. It wasn’t fancy, but it felt right. And that’s what mattered.

The plan was simple: grab some food, drive out to the lake, and spend the evening under the stars. Just the two of you. He didn’t need grand gestures. He just needed you.

***

The sun was just starting to set when Logan pulled up to your place, his truck parked in front of your door. You stepped out, your hair tied back, wearing a beautiful dress that suited you perfectly. And damn, if Logan didn’t think you looked beautiful. No frills, no makeup—just you.

“Hey,” you said, a smile tugging at your lips as you approached the truck.

“Hey,” Logan grunted, returning your smile with a small one of his own.

He opened the door for you, and you climbed into the passenger seat, your eyes flicking to the cooler in the back. “What’s all that?” you asked, curiosity in your voice.

Logan shrugged, sliding into the driver’s seat. “Figured we’d grab some food and head out to that lake you told me about. Thought we could, y’know, just hang out.”

Your smile widened, the kind of smile that made Logan’s chest tighten in a way that felt both comforting and terrifying. “That sounds perfect.”

The drive to the lake was quiet, but it was a comfortable silence. Logan wasn’t much for small talk, and you seemed content just to sit back and enjoy the ride. The trees blurred past as they drove further away from town, the sun dipping lower and casting a golden glow over the road.

When they finally arrived at the lake, the sky had turned a deep shade of purple, the stars just starting to peek through the twilight. The water was calm, the surface reflecting the fading light in a way that made the whole scene feel almost surreal.

Logan parked the truck, grabbed the cooler, and the two of you made your way down to the shoreline, settling on a blanket he’d brought. He cracked open a couple of beers, and the two of you sat in silence for a moment, watching as the stars began to fill the sky.

“This is perfect,” you said softly, your eyes fixed on the sky above. “Thank you for this.”

Logan glanced at you, his chest tightening again. “I figured you needed a break,” he muttered. “We both do.”

You looked over at him, your smile soft. “Yeah. We do.”

***

The conversation flowed easily after that. The two of you talked about everything and nothing, the way you always did. You teased him about his gruffness, and he shot back with a sarcastic remark about your bad taste in movies. There was a lightness between you now, the tension from the past few weeks all but gone.

At some point, you pulled out one of the sandwiches Logan had bought, laughing at how he’d bought way more food than either of you could possibly eat.

“Logan,” you said between bites, “you realize this could feed a small army, right?”

He grunted, shrugging. “Didn’t want you to go hungry.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Always so practical.”

As the night wore on, the stars grew brighter, and the conversation turned quieter, more intimate. You leaned back on the blanket, your head tilted toward the sky, while Logan leaned back on his elbows, watching you more than the stars.

“I love it out here,” you murmured, your voice soft. “It feels like everything just… stops. You know?”

Logan nodded. He knew exactly what you meant.

The quiet stretched between you, the air thick with something unspoken. Logan could feel the weight of it pressing down on him, that familiar feeling in his chest growing stronger. He wanted to kiss you—needed to—but he wasn’t sure how to make that first move.

But then, you turned to him, your eyes meeting his, and there was a flicker of something there—something that told him he didn’t need to worry.

You shifted, leaning in closer, and Logan felt his heart start to race. Your lips were inches from his, your breath warm against his skin as you smiled softly.

“Logan,” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the quiet of the night. “When are you going to kiss me?”

Logan’s breath hitched in his throat. He didn’t say anything—he didn’t need to. Instead, he leaned in, closing the distance between you, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, slow kiss that made everything else disappear. The stars, the lake, the past—none of it mattered anymore.

The kiss deepened, your hand sliding up to rest against his cheek, and Logan responded in kind, his hands finding your waist, pulling you closer as the world around you faded into the background. It was soft at first, hesitant, but the more you kissed, the more the fire between you grew.

Logan could feel the heat rising between you, the tension that had been simmering for weeks finally boiling over. Your body pressed against his, your hands tangling in his hair as the kiss became more insistent, more urgent. And Logan didn’t pull away. He didn’t run.

When you finally pulled back, your lips swollen from the kiss, you looked at him, your eyes filled with a mixture of desire and something deeper.

“I usually wait until the third date,” you said, a teasing smile tugging at your lips, “but I’ve waited long enough.”

Logan’s breath caught in his throat as he stared at you, his mind racing. “You sure?”

You nodded, your smile softening. “I’m sure.”

Logan didn’t hesitate after that. He kissed you again, slower this time, more deliberate, his hands roaming over your body with a tenderness that surprised even him. And when the moment felt right, he stood, pulling you gently to your feet, his hand resting on the small of your back as he led you back to the truck.

The drive back to your place was quiet, but the tension between you was electric, the air thick with anticipation.

When Logan pulled up in front of your house, the night was still quiet, the stars twinkling overhead like a promise. He helped you out of the truck, his hand lingering on your waist as you walked to the front door.

You turned to him, your eyes searching his, and Logan could see the flicker of doubt, of nervousness, but it was quickly replaced by something else—something deeper.

“You coming in?” you asked, your voice soft but steady.

Logan didn’t answer with words. He just nodded, following you inside, knowing that whatever happened next, this was exactly where he was supposed to be.

And for the first time in a long time, Logan wasn’t afraid of what came next.

***

You and Logan moved swiftly through the shadows, hands unable to resist the pull of each other’s bodies. The moment you stepped into your room, everything else faded away. Your lips collided in a fiery kiss, the kind that left no room for hesitation. Logan’s calloused fingers cradled your face, his rough thumbs grazing the softness of your flushed cheeks, sparking a shiver that ran through you. You let out a breathy moan, silently urging him to explore further, to claim you in the way only he could.

Logan's touch was both urgent and reverent as he led you towards the bed, his lips tracing a heated path down the curve of your neck. Each kiss sent electric sparks racing down your spine, igniting your skin with anticipation. He gently guided you down onto the cool sheets, his broad frame hovering above you, an intoxicating mix of power and restraint. The weight of him, the solid, muscular planes of his chest pressing against your sensitive breasts, made you arch up instinctively, offering yourself to him—a silent, burning invitation that left him breathless.

His hands—those strong, capable hands—moved across your body with deliberate intent. He memorized every inch, tracing the dip of your waist, the soft curve of your hips, and the smooth expanse of your thighs. His fingers found the hem of the dress, tugging it upwards with a tantalizing slowness that made your breath catch in your throat. As he peeled away the fabric, revealing your lace-clad thighs, the world narrowed to just them. Your heart pounded as your desire mirrored the hunger in his gaze.

As Logan hovered over you once again, the air between you two seemed to thicken with anticipation. Your nerves fluttered, heart pounding in your chest, but now it was mixed with an undeniable heat, a pull you couldn’t resist. His eyes locked onto yours, his gaze dark and intense, and for a moment, it felt like the world had fallen away—leaving just you two in the stillness of the night.

He leaned down, brushing his lips once again against your neck, kissing it softly at first, but soon his mouth became more insistent, his tongue flicking against your skin as his hands roamed your body. Logan's touch was both gentle and commanding, tracing the lines of your curves with deliberate intent. His fingers grazed your hips, sliding up the smooth expanse of your stomach, sending shivers racing through you. You gasped softly, your body arching into his touch, as your mind warred between nervousness and a craving you couldn’t deny.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he growled softly, his breath hot against your skin as his lips continued their descent.

With slow, deliberate motions, Logan pulled your dress up, exposing you inch by inch until it was discarded somewhere on the floor. He took a moment to admire you completely, his gaze lingering on your bare skin, drinking in every curve and freckle. You felt exposed under his intense gaze, but Logan had a way of making you feel not just desired but worshiped.

The moment your lips met, everything else seemed to fade away, the world narrowing down to just the heat between you. Logan’s mouth was firm and insistent, but his kiss was careful at first, testing, coaxing you into the moment. His hand slid to the back of your neck, his rough fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss, pulling you closer. The sensation of his lips moving against your made your head spin, the warmth of his breath mixing with yours in a rhythm that quickly turned hungry.

Your heart raced as you pressed yourself against him, feeling the hard lines of his chest beneath your hands. The sharp contrast between his rugged strength and the softness of his touch sent a thrill through you, and any nervousness you had melted away under the heat of his attention. You opened your mouth to him, letting him in, and his tongue slipped past your lips, exploring you with deliberate slowness that made your body shiver.

Logan’s kisses were deep, demanding, but there was a tenderness behind them—a quiet intensity that made you feel like you was the only thing that mattered to him in that moment. His hands roamed your body, his fingers tracing the line of your waist, skimming over your hips and dipping to the small of your back, pulling you closer with every touch. It was as if he couldn’t get enough of you, like he was savoring every inch of your skin.

Your body responded instinctively to his touch, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath the fabric of his shirt. With a soft, breathless moan, you tugged at the buttons, wanting to feel him fully, skin against skin. Logan obliged, pulling away just long enough to shrug off his shirt, revealing the broad, scarred planes of his chest. Your breath caught at the sight of him, the sharp lines of muscle, the dark smattering of hair across his chest, and the scars that marked his skin—each one telling a story of battles fought and survived.

Your fingers traced the scars lightly, almost reverently, and Logan let out a low growl of appreciation, his eyes darkening as he watched you. His hands moved to your waist, his knuckles grazing the soft skin of your thighs. The feel of his hands on your bare skin made your heart race, your breath quickening as the heat between you two flared even hotter.

Logan paused, his gaze once again sweeping over your body with an intensity that made you blush. His eyes lingered on your breasts this time, barely covered by the thin lace of your bra, and then trailed down to your hips, his hand brushing lightly over your thigh. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he repeated, his voice rough with need. His fingers slipped beneath the strap of your bra, pulling it down just enough to expose one breast to his hungry gaze. He leaned in, his lips brushing over the soft swell of your skin before his mouth closed over your nipple, his tongue flicking against the hardened peak.

You gasped, your back arching as a sharp jolt of pleasure shot through you. Logan’s hand slid behind you, unclasping your bra and tossing it aside, leaving you fully exposed to him. His mouth moved to your other breast, sucking gently, his tongue swirling around your nipple while his hands roamed your body, exploring every curve, every dip, as if he was trying to memorize you by touch alone.

Your breath came in shallow pants as his mouth continued its assault, alternating between soft kisses and sharp nips that sent sparks of pleasure through you. You felt his hands slide lower, tracing the line of your panties before tugging them down your legs. The cool air hit your bare skin, but it was quickly replaced by the heat of Logan’s touch as he spread your thighs apart, his fingers teasing your folds, exploring the wetness with a slow, deliberate rhythm that made your whole body tremble.

“Logan,” you moaned, your hips rising to meet his hand, your body desperate for more of him. But he was in no hurry, his fingers moving in lazy circles, dipping into you just enough to make you gasp, but never fully giving what you craved.

He grinned against your skin, clearly enjoying the way you were falling apart under his touch. “Patience, baby,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “I want to take my time with you.”

But Logan’s control was slipping, and you could feel it in the way his breath hitched, the way his fingers tightened on your hips as he fought to keep his composure. His kisses grew more heated, more frantic, as he worked his way back up your body, his mouth finding yours again in a kiss that was hot and desperate, full of need.

You could feel the hard length of him pressing against your thigh, straining against his boxers, and the thought of him—of all of him—made your head spin. Your hand moved down, fingers brushing over the bulge in his boxers, and Logan groaned into your mouth, his hips bucking slightly at the contact.

“Fuck, baby…” he rasped, his breath coming out in harsh, ragged pants as you rubbed him through the fabric, feeling the heat of him, the way his cock twitched in response to you touch. “You’re driving me fucking crazy.”

With a growl, Logan pulled back just long enough to shed the rest of his clothes, his eyes never leaving yours as he stood above you, fully exposed. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him, his cock hard and thick, jutting towards you with a dark flush at the tip.

And he was back on you. Logan’s kisses trailed lower, his lips moving from your neck to your collarbone, then down to the swell of your breasts. Each touch sent a new wave of heat through you, your body already humming with anticipation. He lingered there for a moment, his mouth closing over one hardened nipple, his tongue flicking across it as you gasped and arched into him. But it was clear from the way his hands gripped your hips, how his kisses continued to drift lower, that he had something else in mind.

Your breath caught in your throat as Logan shifted, his hands sliding down your sides, his lips now kissing a line along your stomach. The tension in the air thickened, and your heart pounded with both anticipation and nervous excitement. His hands reached your thighs, spreading them gently, and a flush of heat spread across your skin as you lay bare before him. You felt exposed—vulnerable in the most intimate way—but Logan’s gaze, dark and hungry, made you feel worshiped rather than nervous.

“You’re just perfect,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with desire, his breath warm against your inner thigh. The words melted your last bit of hesitation, and your body relaxed under his touch, opening up to him.

Logan’s mouth hovered just over your center, his breath teasing your already slick folds, but he didn’t dive in right away. Instead, his lips brushed the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, sending shivers up your spine, as he kissed his way closer. He was slow, deliberate, savoring every moment, every touch, as if he wanted to make sure you felt everything.

Then, without warning, his tongue flicked out, parting your folds and brushing against your clit with a gentle, teasing stroke. You gasped, your hips jolting up at the sudden jolt of pleasure, your fingers gripping the sheets tightly. Logan’s hands slid beneath you, holding you hips in place, his grip firm yet gentle, and he let out a low, appreciative growl.

“You taste so fucking good,” he rasped, his voice thick with lust, and the sound of it made your body pulse with need.

He dove back in, his tongue flicking over your clit again, this time with more pressure, more intent. The sensation was electric, pleasure shooting through you with every stroke. Logan’s mouth worked you over slowly at first, his tongue swirling around your clit, teasing with light, maddening flicks that had your hips lifting toward him, silently begging for more. He knew exactly how to make you squirm, how to drive you wild with the simplest of touches.

You moaned softly, your head falling back against the pillow as your body arched, your breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. The pleasure was building, a slow, steady burn deep in your core, and Logan seemed determined to make it last. His tongue slid lower, dipping between your folds, tasting you, before returning to your clit, sucking gently. Every move he made was deliberate, calculated to push you closer to the edge without ever letting you tip over.

“Logan…,” you whimpered, your voice trembling with need. Your hips bucked again, seeking more, and Logan let out another low groan as he tightened his grip on your thighs, holding them still.

“Patience, babygirl,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a mix of command and amusement. But there was a hunger in his tone too, a barely restrained urgency that matched the fire burning inside you.

His tongue pressed harder now, flicking and circling your clit in a rhythm that had you gasping and trembling beneath him. Every stroke of his tongue sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, your body responding to him in ways you couldn’t control. Your hands flew to his hair, fingers tangling in the strands as you held him close, unable to stop the desperate little sounds spilling from your lips.

“Please, Logan…” you gasped, voice barely more than a breath. You were so close now, the tension inside you coiling tighter and tighter with every flick of his tongue, every teasing suck. You could feel the edge coming, but you needed more—needed him to push you over.

Logan’s response was a deep, throaty growl that sent vibrations straight through your core. His tongue moved faster, his mouth working you with an intensity that had your whole body trembling. His lips closed over your clit, sucking hard now, while his fingers slipped down to your entrance, sliding inside you with ease, filling you with a deep, deliberate rhythm that matched the movements of his tongue.

“Oh God… Logan…!” you cried, your voice breaking as your body arched off the bed. The pleasure hit you like a tidal wave, crashing over in powerful, uncontrollable waves. Your orgasm tore through, your muscles clenching as your entire body trembled, your pussy pulsing around his fingers as he continued to work you through it.

Logan didn’t stop, didn’t let up, his mouth still sucking gently at your clit, his fingers still buried deep inside you, coaxing every last bit of pleasure from your trembling body. He groaned against you, clearly enjoying the way you came undone beneath him, the way your body responded to his touch.

Your vision blurred, your breath coming out in sharp, uneven gasps as the pleasure finally began to ebb, leaving you limp and trembling beneath him. Your hands slipped from his hair, falling to the bed as your body went slack, utterly spent.

Logan kissed his way back up your body, his lips trailing along your stomach, breasts, before finally reaching your mouth again. His kiss was soft this time, gentle, as if to soothe the lingering aftershocks of your release. You melted into him, your hands finding his shoulders, holding him close as you tried to catch your breath.

“You okay, baby?” he murmured against your lips, his hand brushing the hair from your face as he looked down at you, his eyes full of concern despite the heat still simmering between them.

You nodded, a small, blissful smile curving your lips as you gazed up at him. “More than okay,” you whispered, voice breathless but full of affection. Logan’s touch, his attention—everything about him—had left you feeling cherished, worshiped, and utterly satisfied.

You wanted to do the same for him, but you didn’t know how. When Logan sat down, he could feel the nervousness from you.

Your heart raced as you sat on the bed, your eyes fixed on Logan, who sat shirtless in front of you, his broad, muscled chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. The room felt impossibly warm, and though you had been teasing and playful all night, nerves twisted in your stomach. You wanted to please him, wanted to make him feel as good as he always made you feel, but there was one thing you hadn’t done before.

Logan’s eyes were dark with desire, his lips curved into a small, amused smile as he watched you. “What is it, Princess?” he asked, his voice a deep rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You look nervous.”

You bit your lip, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks as you looked up at him, your voice coming out quieter than intended. “I… I’ve never… done that before.” You hesitated, glancing down at his hard and ready to go cock. “You know… going down on someone.”

Logan’s smile softened, and he crouched down in front of you, taking your hand in his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for, babygirl,” he said, his voice gentle but thick with heat. “It’s all up to you.”

You shook your head, determination sparking in your eyes despite the butterflies in your stomach. “I want to… I want to make you feel good. I just… I want you to show me. Teach me how.”

Logan’s eyes darkened even further at your words, a low growl rumbling from deep in his chest. “Fuck, sweetgirl,” he muttered, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lip. “You have no idea how much I want that. And I’ll guide you through every second, baby, if that’s what you want.”

You nodded, heart racing as you leaned into his touch, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. Logan stood up.Your eyes widened slightly as you looked up at him. He was big—thick, hard, and veined—and the thought of taking him into your mouth sent a thrill of nervous energy through you.

Logan moved closer, standing just in front of you as you sat on the edge of the bed. He stroked your cheek softly, his voice low and patient. “Just go slow, okay? Start by touching me. See what feels good for you.”

You nodded, your hand trembling slightly as you reached up, fingers wrapping around his cock for the first time. He was warm and firm, and the way he twitched in your hand made your heart race even faster. Logan let out a low groan as your fingers began to move along his length, stroking him slowly, your grip light at first, unsure but eager to learn.

“That’s good, baby,” Logan rasped, his voice thick with desire. “Just like that. Nice and slow.”

Your confidence grew a little with his encouragement, and you tightened the grip slightly, your strokes becoming more deliberate. Logan’s breath hitched, and his hand found the back of your neck, not pushing you but resting there, his fingers gently massaging the base of your skull.

You glanced up at him, eyes searching for guidance. “Is this okay?”

Logan’s dark gaze met yours, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “It’s more than okay,” he murmured, his thumb brushing your lower lip again. “You’re doing great. Now, if you’re ready… use your mouth. Just take your time.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you leaned forward, lips parting slightly as you pressed a soft kiss to the tip of his cock. Logan groaned, his grip on your neck tightening just a little, and the sound sent a jolt of excitement through you. You could taste the salty bead of pre-cum on your lips as you kissed him again, this time allowing your tongue to flick out and swirl gently around the head.

Logan hissed softly, his head tilting back as his hand flexed against your neck. “Fuck, princess… that feels good.”

Emboldened by his reaction, you opened your mouth wider, taking the head of his cock between your lips. You sucked lightly, tongue swirling around the tip as you moved your hand along his length, stroking what you couldn’t yet fit in your mouth. Logan’s low groan spurred you on, and you took him deeper, lips wrapping around him as your tongue continued to explore.

“Just like that, baby,” Logan rasped, his voice strained as his hips twitched forward, though he held back, letting you set the pace. “Use your hand to stroke the rest, yeah? Keep going slow, and just… fuck, that feels so good.”

You did as he said, your hand working in time with your mouth as you moved up and down his length, taking him a little deeper with each bob of your head. Your nervousness started to fade as you focused on his reactions—the way his muscles tensed, the way his breath came out in short, ragged gasps, the way he groaned your name when you did something right.

You could feel him pulsing in your mouth, thick and heavy, and the way his cock twitched as your tongue swirled around the underside of the head made your thighs clench. Logan’s fingers tightened in your hair, but he was still careful, still letting you lead.

“God, sweetheart… you’re fucking amazing,” he groaned, his voice rough with pleasure. “Try taking me a little deeper now. If it’s too much, just pull back.”

You nodded slightly, your lips still wrapped around him, and took a deep breath as you pushed yourself further down his length, feeling the stretch of him against your tongue. He was big, but you wanted to take as much of him as you could. You relaxed your throat, letting him slip deeper, until you could feel him at the back of your throat.

Logan groaned louder, his hips twitching forward just slightly, but he pulled back immediately, not wanting to overwhelm you. “That’s it, baby,” he muttered, his voice tight with restraint. “You’re doing so fucking good.”

You bobbed your head slowly, sucking him in deeper with each movement, your hand stroking the base of his cock while your tongue worked the sensitive underside. The sound of Logan’s pleasure, the low groans and ragged breaths, spurred you on, and you began to pick up the pace, your confidence growing with every reaction you pulled from him.

“Fuck, baby… I’m not gonna last long if you keep doing that,” Logan rasped, his voice tight as his fingers tangled more firmly in your hair. “You’re driving me fucking crazy.”

You hummed around him, the vibration making him curse under his breath as you took him even deeper, your lips stretching around his thick length. You felt a surge of pride at how you were making him fall apart, and the way his hips started to twitch forward with every stroke only encouraged you.

Logan’s breathing turned ragged, his hand tightening in your hair as he fought to keep control. “Shit, baby, I’m close… you want me to come in your mouth?”

You paused, your lips still wrapped around him, and looked up at him through your lashes, nodding slightly as best as you could. The look in his eyes darkened even further, and his grip on you tightened as he thrust gently into your mouth, his movements careful but desperate.

“Good girl,” he groaned, his voice thick with pleasure. “Just like that… fuck, I’m gonna come.”

His words sent a thrill through you, and you worked him faster, hand stroking his length while your mouth sucked him in deeper, your tongue flicking against him with each bob of your head. Logan’s whole body tensed, his muscles going taut as he groaned your name, and with one final thrust, he came hard, spilling into your mouth.

You felt the hot rush of his release, his cock pulsing against your tongue as he filled her mouth. You swallowed as much as you could, his taste salty and thick, and you kept stroking him gently, milking every last drop from him as he trembled above you.

When it was over, Logan pulled back slowly, his chest heaving as he looked down at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of awe and satisfaction. He reached down, pulling you up to your feet and kissing you deeply, his hand cupping your face as his lips lingered on yours.

“God, Princess,” he whispered against your mouth, his voice still breathless. “You’re fucking perfect.”

You smiled, cheeks flushed but your heart full of warmth. You had wanted to make him feel good, and the look in his eyes told you you had done more than that.

***

You didn’t know when you had fallen asleep, a warm haze of emotions and aftershocks from the night still lingering in your body. Apparently, that's what a mix of raw passion and orgasms can do to a person. As you started to stretch, a familiar touch stopped you — Logan's hand was resting possessively on your thigh.

“You’re awake finally,” his voice, deep and husky from sleep, sent a delicious shiver down your spine. It was the kind of voice that could melt you with just a word. He pressed a soft kiss to your bare shoulder, his breath warm against your skin. That sound alone made heat bloom low in your belly, reminding you of just how powerfully he affected you. You were still getting used to the intensity of it all, how he had this effortless way of making you feel like you could combust under his touch. It wasn’t just lust, but something deeper. The way his presence made you feel desired, seen.

His morning erection nudged against your ass as his mouth trailed down your shoulder, teasing the sensitive spot at your neck with soft bites. "Last night was incredible," you whispered, feeling the soft ache between your thighs from the passion you'd shared. His mouth found your ear, his teeth grazing the lobe, and a soft gasp escaped your lips.

You could feel the smile in his voice as he replied, “You were amazing.”

You blushed at his praise, remembering how vulnerable you'd felt when you told him last night about your nervousness. He had a way of making you feel safe, even in your most insecure moments. But here he was now, his hands tracing your curves, cupping your breasts with a mix of gentleness and hunger. His thumb grazed over your nipples, making your breath hitch. "You're the one to talk," you murmured, barely able to focus as his hands roamed over you.

He chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the way your body responded to him, as if it were made to fit against his. His thigh slid between your legs, pressing just right against your clit, making you gasp and instinctively roll your hips. "Relax, princess," he purred, the nickname sending a fresh wave of heat through you.

But as much as your body begged for more, a sudden urgency interrupted the moment. “I need to pee,” you said, almost breathlessly. You hated to stop him, but your body had its demands.

Logan let out a playful growl of frustration, making you giggle as he rolled onto his back. “That was mean,” he grumbled. You leaned over and kissed the tip of his nose, unable to hide your smile.

"I'll be quick. You go make coffee."

His hand gave your ass a playful swat as you slipped out of bed, both of you laughing softly, the easy intimacy of the morning wrapping around you like a warm blanket. Even as you headed for the bathroom, you felt his eyes on you, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before his hands were back on your body.

***

And you were right. The coffee was nice, though Logan couldn’t help but tease, mentioning it would have tasted even better if you’d made it yourself. You smiled at his playful jab, both of you leaning into the easy conversation about the day ahead. You mentioned wanting to hit the pool on your day off, but Logan’s eyes narrowed playfully, letting you know he preferred the gym instead. You nearly made a joke about him being like a cat avoiding water, but you bit your tongue, enjoying the teasing exchange.

As you gathered the coffee mugs, the moment felt light and perfect. "What do you want for breakfast?" you asked over your shoulder. "I could make French toast if you'd—"

Before you could finish, you felt Logan’s strong hands slide onto your hips, pulling you gently back into him. His touch was warm, sending a shiver down your spine, and you gasped softly as his lips found your neck, trailing slow, lingering kisses along the sensitive skin. His breath was hot, and the deliberate, sensual way he kissed you had your pulse quickening in an instant.

“How about we take a shower first?” he suggested, his voice husky, each word laced with promise.

You smiled, leaning back into him, your body already reacting to his touch. "Somehow, I don’t think a shower is all you're thinking about, Logan," you teased, though your voice was softer now, betraying the way his closeness made your thoughts scatter.

He chuckled low, the sound rumbling through you as he turned you around to face him. His eyes were dark with desire, and before you could say another word, he kissed you, hard and full of need. His lips claimed yours in a way that made you melt against him, and as his tongue slipped into your mouth, teasing and tasting, a soft moan escaped you. His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you closer, pressing your body against his as the kiss deepened.

“We’ll shower…” he whispered, breaking the kiss just enough to press his lips to yours again, a series of quick, heated pecks that left you breathless. “Eventually.”

Before you could react, Logan’s arms wrapped around you, lifting you off the floor with ease and tossing you playfully over his shoulder. You squealed in surprise, laughing as he carried you effortlessly toward the bathroom.

“Logan!” you giggled, your voice a mix of surprise and excitement, heart racing as he walked with purpose.

“I’m going to take my time with you, princess,” he said, his voice low, teasing, and filled with all kinds of promises as he stepped into the bathroom. “I’ll wash every inch of you—thoroughly.”

The way he said it made heat bloom inside you, and as he set you down, you could feel his gaze trailing over your body, lingering with unspoken desire.

***

The steam in the bathroom thickened, swirling around you both as Logan's hands slid over your waist, guiding you gently back under the warm spray of the shower. Water cascaded down your skin, adding to the heat building between you, his fingers tracing delicate patterns on your wet body. The room was filled with a mix of heat and the soft sounds of the water splashing, but it was his gaze that held you captive — intense, filled with hunger and something deeper that made your heart race.

His lips found yours again, softer this time, as though savoring the taste, but the kiss quickly deepened, his hands moving up to cup your face. Your body responded instinctively, leaning into him as the warmth from the water mingled with the growing heat between you. His hands were everywhere — sliding down your back, pulling you closer until your bodies pressed together, the water making every touch more electric, more intimate.

The sensation of his skin against yours, the slick, wet heat between you, sent shivers down your spine. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss intensified, becoming more urgent, more needy. Logan’s hands slipped lower, resting on your hips, and he lifted you effortlessly, pinning you gently against the cool tile of the shower wall. The contrast of the heat from his body and the coolness of the tiles behind you made you gasp softly, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively.

He paused for a moment, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing heavy as he gazed into your eyes. There was something raw in that look, an unspoken desire, as if he was making sure you were fully with him at that moment. You nodded slightly, your hands running through his damp hair, urging him on, and that was all the encouragement he needed.

Logan’s lips trailed down your neck, hot and wet from the shower, and you couldn’t hold back the soft moan that escaped as his mouth found your collarbone, biting gently before soothing the skin with soft kisses. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you firmly in place, every touch deliberate, every kiss igniting a deeper sense of longing.

The rhythm between you was slow, teasing, as though he was taking his time exploring every inch of you, memorizing the way your body responded to him. The water poured over you both, heightening every sensation, and you could feel the tension building, the anticipation thick in the air.

“Logan…” you whispered, breathless, your voice barely above the sound of the shower. He responded with another deep kiss, his hands sliding down your back, holding you even closer, making it impossible to tell where his body ended and yours began. Each movement was fluid, natural, as if you were both made for this — for each other.

His lips returned to your neck, trailing fire down your skin, and the combination of the heat from the water and his touch had you lost in the moment. Every kiss, every touch, every whispered word between you was a promise, a building of tension that pulled you both deeper into the connection you shared.

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his breath ragged. “I’ve wanted this for so long…” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

You smiled softly, feeling the same way, your fingers brushing across his jawline as you leaned in for another kiss, softer this time, full of the unspoken feelings between you. The moment wasn’t just about the physical connection — it was something deeper, something that lingered in the way his touch made you feel cherished and wanted.

The shower continued to rain down around you, but in that moment, all you felt was him — the warmth of his body, the tenderness of his hands, and the growing intensity of your shared desire.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your ear, his voice low and thick with lust. His fingers trailed down your stomach, his touch teasing, deliberate, as he spread your legs with one of his own, positioning you just how he wanted. His rough hand slipped between your thighs, fingers sliding through your slick folds, and the instant he found your clit, your whole body jolted at the sharp, sudden pleasure.

A soft moan escaped your lips as Logan’s fingers started to work you, circling your clit with slow, firm strokes that had your hips rocking against his hand instinctively. The warmth of the water mixed with the heat radiating off his body, but it was nothing compared to the growing fire in your core as Logan’s touch sent sparks of pleasure shooting through you.

His other hand gripped your waist, holding you steady as his fingers moved faster, pressing harder against your clit in a way that made your legs tremble. His lips were back at your neck, kissing you, his teeth grazing your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

“I’ve barely touched you, and you’re already so fucking wet for me,” Logan growled, his voice dark and filled with satisfaction as he teased you, his fingers slipping lower, finding your entrance and pushing inside you. His fingers curled deep, hitting that perfect spot that made your breath hitch, and your body tensed, the pressure inside you building rapidly.

“Logan…” you gasped, your hands bracing against the tile as you leaned into him, your hips grinding against his hand, desperate for more of the pleasure he was giving you. His touch was skilled, practiced, every movement pushing you closer to the edge, but he kept control, taking his time, making you feel every single stroke.

“You’re gonna come for me, baby,” he whispered, his voice hot against your ear, his fingers working faster now, his thumb brushing over your clit in perfect rhythm with his thrusts. “I want to feel you come all over my hand.”

Your breath came out in ragged pants, your body trembling as the tension inside you coiled tighter and tighter, ready to snap. Logan’s fingers pressed harder, his pace relentless, and you could feel the orgasm building fast, the pleasure overwhelming as he drove you closer to the brink.

“Come for me,” Logan growled, his voice rough and commanding as his thumb circled your clit one last time, his fingers curling deep inside you. “Now.”

That was all it took. Your body tensed as the orgasm ripped through you, sharp and intense, your pussy clenching tight around his fingers as the pleasure exploded inside you. You cried out his name, your legs shaking as your body trembled under the force of your release, every wave crashing over you harder than the last.

Logan groaned low in his throat as he felt you come, his hand never stopping, his fingers stroking you through every last tremor of your orgasm. “Good girl,” he muttered, his voice thick with pride as he held you steady, his body pressed tight against yours. “That’s it, baby… just like that.”

When the last waves of your orgasm finally ebbed, you slumped back against him, breathless and trembling. But Logan wasn’t done with you yet. His lips brushed against your ear, sending another shiver through you as his fingers slipped from between your legs.

“Turn around,” he commanded softly, and you did, your legs still weak from your release, but your body aching for more of him.

Logan knelt in front of you, the water pouring over his broad, muscled shoulders as he looked up at you with dark, hungry eyes. “I want to taste you,” he growled, his hands gripping your thighs as he spread them apart. “And I’m going to make you come again.”

Your heart raced as he pressed his mouth against your already sensitive core, his tongue flicking over your clit with quick, teasing strokes that made you gasp and grab his shoulders for support. The pleasure hit you instantly, the aftershocks of your first orgasm still rippling through your body as Logan licked and sucked at your clit with a precision that left you trembling.

“Logan… oh my God…” you whimpered, your fingers tangling in his wet hair as you rocked your hips against his mouth, already feeling the heat building inside you all over again. His hands gripped your thighs tighter, holding you in place as he devoured you, his tongue swirling around your clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through you with every movement.

He groaned against you, the vibration making your legs shake as he worked you over, his tongue relentless, his mouth hot and wet as the pleasure built faster this time, more intense. Your body was still buzzing from the first orgasm, your nerves already raw, and Logan seemed determined to push you even further.

“You taste so fucking good,” he rasped against your core, his voice low and rough as he dove back in, his tongue flicking over your clit in a rhythm that had you gasping for breath, the edge of another orgasm already within reach. “I want you to come in my mouth, baby. I want to feel you fall apart again.”

His words sent a fresh wave of heat through you, and you could feel the tension coiling tight in your core, your body on the verge of breaking as Logan’s tongue worked you faster, harder. The pleasure was overwhelming, your hips bucking against his face as you chased the release that was already so close.

“Logan… please…” you whimpered, your voice trembling as the orgasm built inside you like a storm, the pressure too much, too intense. But Logan wasn’t letting up, his mouth relentless, his grip on your thighs bruising as he growled against your clit.

“Come for me,” he commanded, his voice dark and rough as his tongue flicked over your clit one last time, pushing you over the edge.

You shattered. The orgasm tore through you, harder than the first, your whole body trembling as the pleasure ripped you apart. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, your legs shaking as you cried out his name, your pussy pulsing with every wave of your release.

Logan groaned into you, his mouth still moving, drawing out every last tremor of your orgasm until you were completely spent, your body weak and trembling from the intensity of it. When he finally pulled back, his lips glistening, he looked up at you with a satisfied grin.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he growled, standing up slowly, his hands sliding up your body as he pulled you against him.

You could feel the hard length of him pressing against your stomach, his cock thick and pulsing with need. But Logan wasn’t in a rush. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a deep, slow kiss, his hands roaming your body as the water poured over both of you.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and rough with desire. “But I’m not going to come until you do again. I want to feel you come around my cock.”

Your heart raced at his words, your body already aching for him, desperate for him to fill you. “Please, Logan,” you gasped, your nails digging into his back as you rocked your hips against him. “I need you inside me.”

Logan groaned, lifting you effortlessly as he positioned himself at your entrance. The tip of his cock brushed against your slick folds, teasing you for a moment before he thrust inside, filling you completely with one slow, deliberate movement.

The sudden fullness made you gasp, your back arching against the tiles as Logan buried himself deep inside you, stretching you in a way that made your body tremble all over again. He didn’t move at first, just held you there, his forehead resting against yours as he groaned low in his throat.

“Fuck, you feel so tight,” he growled, his breath hot against your lips as he began to move, his hips rolling in slow, deep thrusts that made you moan.

He set a slow, deliberate pace, each thrust deep and powerful, his cock dragging against your inner walls in a way that made you feel every inch of him. The pleasure built quickly, your body still sensitive from your previous orgasms, and you could feel yourself teetering on the edge again as Logan’s thrusts grew harder, more desperate.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groaned, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he drove into you, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you with every stroke. “I’m not going to last much longer, baby… but I want you to come first. I need to feel you come around my cock before I fill you up.”

His words sent a jolt of heat through you, your body responding instantly to the idea of him coming inside you, of him filling you completely. The tension inside you coiled tighter, the pressure building fast as Logan fucked you harder, his breath ragged as he chased his own release.

“Logan…” you gasped, your fingers gripping his shoulders as the pleasure built inside you, your whole body trembling as the edge came rushing toward you. “I’m so close…”

"Come for me," Logan growled, his voice rough with need as his thrusts became more frantic, his cock driving into you harder and deeper with every stroke. "I want to feel you fall apart around me, baby. Then I’ll fill you up.”

His words sent you spiraling, the intensity of his movements pushing you closer to the edge with every thrust. The way he filled you so completely, the way his cock dragged against every sensitive spot inside you, left you gasping for breath, your nails digging into his shoulders as you clung to him.

“Logan… oh God, I’m gonna come,” you whimpered, your voice shaking as your body tensed, the orgasm building inside you like a tidal wave ready to break.

“That’s it,” he growled, his grip on your hips tightening as his pace quickened, his control slipping as he drove into you harder, faster. “Come for me, baby. I need to feel it.”

And then it hit you. The orgasm crashed through you like a storm, your body convulsing around him as the pleasure tore through you, your pussy clenching tight around his cock. Your head fell back against the tiles, a broken moan escaping your lips as you cried out his name, your whole body trembling violently with the force of your release.

Logan groaned deeply, his movements faltering for a moment as he felt you come around him, your pussy pulsing and squeezing his cock with every wave of your orgasm. “Fuck, that’s it,” he growled, his voice strained as he fought to hold on, his hips still thrusting into you, prolonging your pleasure.

He didn’t stop. Even as your body trembled with aftershocks, Logan kept going, his pace relentless as he chased his own release. His breath came out in ragged gasps, his forehead pressed against yours as he groaned, “I’m gonna come… I need to fill you up.”

His words, dark and laced with raw need, sent a fresh wave of heat through you. The thought of him coming inside you, of being filled completely, made your body pulse all over again, your hips instinctively bucking up against him.

“Please, Logan… I want it. I want you to come inside me,” you gasped, your voice thick with desire as you clung to him, your nails scraping down his back.

Logan groaned loudly, his thrusts turning erratic, desperate as he reached the edge. His grip on your hips tightened, his hands nearly bruising as he slammed into you one last time, burying himself as deep as he could go. With a low, guttural moan, he came hard, his cock pulsing inside you as he spilled into you, filling you with his hot release.

“Fuck… Princess…” he groaned, his body trembling against yours as he rode out his orgasm, his hips twitching as he pumped every last drop into you.

You could feel the heat of him, thick and warm as it filled you completely, the sensation sending a final shiver of pleasure through your body. Logan’s breathing was ragged, his forehead resting against yours as the last waves of his release washed over him. For a moment, the world was silent, the only sound was the steady rush of water and your uneven breaths as you both held each other, trembling in the aftermath.

Logan kissed you softly, his lips brushing against yours as his hands moved to cradle your face. “You’re fucking incredible,” he murmured, his voice rough but filled with a deep satisfaction.

You smiled against his lips, your heart still racing as you whispered, “So are you, Logan.”

His cock softened inside you, but neither of you moved, the warmth of the water and the heat of the moment wrapping around you both like a cocoon. Logan held you close, his forehead pressed to yours as he whispered, “I’m never getting enough of you.”

The water continued to pour down over both of you, your bodies still intertwined, but now the intensity of the moment had softened into something warm and intimate. Logan held you close, his chest pressed against yours, the heat of his breath mingling with the steam swirling around you. He smiled down at you, the look in his eyes softened by the tenderness that followed the passion you had shared.

“I did promise to wash every inch of you, didn’t I?” he murmured, his voice low and playful, but there was a gentle sincerity beneath it. His hands glided down your sides, steadying you as he reached for the bar of soap resting on the shelf nearby.

You smiled up at him, feeling the warmth of his touch as his soapy hands returned to your body. “I thought you forgot about that,” you teased, but your voice was soft, content.

Logan chuckled softly, his eyes dark but affectionate. “I never forget a promise,” he whispered, his lips brushing yours in a brief, tender kiss before he turned his attention to washing you, as he had promised.

With slow, deliberate movements, Logan’s hands traveled over your skin, spreading the lather of the soap along your shoulders, down your arms, and across your back. His touch was firm but soothing, almost reverent, as though he was savoring the simple act of caring for you. His fingers trailed down to your waist, his touch lingering as he washed your hips, his eyes occasionally flicking up to meet yours with a gentle smile.

His hands continued lower, gliding over your thighs, every movement patient, unhurried. He made sure to wash every inch of you, taking his time as the soap mixed with the water, rinsing away the remnants of the passion you had shared. It wasn’t just about getting clean—it was a moment of connection, of closeness, that lingered between you both.

“You’re perfect,” Logan whispered, his eyes tracing the lines of your body as he knelt slightly to wash your legs. His voice was soft, almost like he was speaking to himself, but the words sent warmth blooming in your chest.

When he finished, he pulled you close again, his lips brushing your temple as the water poured over both of you. “Your turn,” he murmured, handing you the bar of soap.

With a smile, you took it, running the lather between your hands as you began to return the favor. You started at his broad shoulders, your hands gliding over his firm muscles as the soap spread across his skin. Logan let out a soft sigh of contentment, his eyes closing as he leaned into your touch, his body relaxing beneath your hands.

Your fingers trailed down his chest, tracing the scars that marked his skin, feeling the strength beneath your touch. Logan opened his eyes briefly, catching your gaze, a small smile tugging at his lips as you moved your hands lower, over his abdomen, down his hips. You took your time, washing him just as thoroughly as he had done for you, the intimacy of the moment deepening as you cared for each other.

When you were done, Logan cupped your face in his hands, leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice rough but full of affection.

You smiled against his lips, your arms wrapping around his neck as you kissed him back, the warmth of the water and the closeness of his body making you feel safe, cherished.

As the last of the soap washed away, Logan turned off the water, the sound of the shower replaced by the quiet hum of the world outside. He grabbed a towel and gently wrapped it around your shoulders, pulling you close to him as he dried you off, his hands moving slowly, almost reverently.

Once you were dry, he toweled off himself quickly before pulling you into his arms again, his chest warm against your skin as he kissed the top of your head. “Let’s get out of here before we shrivel up,” he teased lightly, his voice still soft, but there was a playful glint in his eyes.

With a smile, you let him lead you out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom, where the warmth and comfort of the soft sheets awaited you. Logan pulled you down onto the bed with him, his arms wrapping around you as he drew you close, holding you against his chest.

“You’re something else, sweetheart,” he murmured softly, his lips brushing your forehead as you snuggled into him, your body relaxing completely in his arms.

You smiled, feeling completely at peace as you whispered, “This was the best date I have ever been on, Logan.”

“Good,” he whispered back, his hand gently stroking your hair as you both settled into the quiet comfort of the moment. Wrapped in each other’s arms, the intensity of the night faded into a deep sense of contentment, leaving only the warmth of the connection you shared as you drifted off together, completely at ease in each other’s presence.

#logan howlett #logan x reader #logan smut #logan howlett angst #logan howlett smut #logan wolverine #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine angst #wolverine smut #hugh jackman wolverine #hugh jackman #smut #angst #deadpool and wolverine #worst wolverine #deadpool 3

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bokunoheros · 3 months ago

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TAGS/WARNINGS: reader is gender neutral but afab, reader and katsuki are in their 3rd year, everyone is 18+, hand kink, this is actually rlly vanilla compared to everything else i’ve written GENRE: smut SUMMARY: you’re obsessed with your boyfriend’s strong hands and want his fingers in your mouth. WORD COUNT: 854 🦊’s A/N: sorry for how fucked up day 14 was LMAOOO also i’m sorry this is so short?? i’ll make up for it somehow

for weeks now, you’d been asking your boyfriend to put his fingers in your mouth, or to let you suck on his fingers to soothe your oral fixation, just for him to shut you down each and every time.

and every time, you whined why?

yet, without fail, he gave you the same response; because i don’t want you accidentally ingesting my sweat, idiot. it was out of care for your well being that he didn’t cave to a request-turned-demand that he wishes he could indulge you in desperately. but, whether he expressed it or not, katsuki was a caring person. …in his own aggressive manner, but anyone who knows him can tell when he cares for someone, as he becomes just the slightest bit softer around them, only has his guard half-way up instead of being on full defense mode all the time. and in regards to you? he more than just cared for you, he was stupidly, disgustingly in love with you. so much so, it made him physically ill.

that’s how he finds himself awake at midnight three weeks after your initial ask, locked away in his dorm room, the only thing illuminating the darkness being his laptop screen from underneath his sheets. he had gone down a rabbit hole on reddit about nitroglycerin and whether or not it was dangerous if consumed, how it tasted (as he had never… i dunno, licked his fuckin’ palms before like a little freak), what a lethal dosage was, etc.

now, he feels a bit more prepared to yield to your demands next time you plead with him. as long as you don’t suck on them for an extended period, you should be fine—nitroglycerin was often used to help with chest pain in small doses, after all.

so, the next time the two of you are getting hot and heavy in his dorm late at night, he finds himself pinning you to the bed, straddling your hips, erection pressing into your thinly clothed cunt—as you were both in nothing but your underwear—his chest pressing against yours, he finds his mind wandering to how he should go about this.

does he wait for you to bring it up again? or does he surprise you by taking the initiative..? tsk, like it’s even a question.

pulling away from the sloppy kiss, he takes the opportunity to stick two of his fingers in your mouth when you go to ask him what he was doing—something that makes your eyes widen in shock for a brief moment before you’re grabbing at his thick wrist with both hands as you begin to suck his middle and ring fingers.

katsuki bites his plump bottom lip as you swirl your tongue around and between the digits occupying your wet mouth before he suddenly has the muscle pinned down as he slides his fingers towards the back of your throat.

you can’t help but smile, and maybe moan a little, as he starts to essentially fingerfuck your mouth, nearly massaging your slick tongue but being just a bit too rough for it to be considered such. you were just content to finally get what you’d been begging for for weeks.

“mmmgh,” you moan softly, a noise that makes the blond smirk.

“enjoyin’ yourself?” he asks, more rhetorically than anything, but you answer him nonetheless.

“mmhm,” you hum in response, closing your eyes as you focus on the taste of his fingers. they were… almost sweet? in a sense, but also left a light burning and tingling sensation behind in their wake—probably just the effects of the nitroglycerin, you think. nothing you hadn’t already thought of or considered.

spreading the thick digits, he splays them out to either side of your tongue, allowing you to move the muscle freely again

“kats…” you whine, rolling your hips up as you start to grow impatient, the feeling of his fingers in your mouth driving you crazy. nothing could have prepared you for how nice it felt. maybe it’s because it was like a forbidden treat for what seemed like the longest time, and now you were finally getting to indulge in it, and if not for the throbbing of your clit bringing you back to the real world, you think you could be content sucking on his thick and calloused digits for as long as he let you.

“mm–ow! you little shit!” he hisses when you suddenly bite down against his fingers, and he all but jerks them out of your mouth. “what was that for?”

you can’t help but giggle and smirk at his confused expression.

“felt like it,” you grin, looking up at him with nothing but mischief in your eyes.

“fine, see if i ever let you suck on my fingers again,” he huffs, crossing his well-toned arms as he rolls his eyes.

“wait, no–! ‘m sorry, baby; i was just fuckin’ with you, i won’t do it again, i promise,” you beg, propping yourself up on your forearms.

fortunately, this time, it only took a few minutes of begging instead of a few weeks to get him to relent to your desperate pleas.

return to KINKTOBER | K. BAKUGOU M.LIST

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beloveds-embrace · 5 days ago

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I am absolutely Eating your angsty dukedom 141, I'm just scarfing it down ayejjrnf

But! Suggestion for the drabble of reader slowly fading into the bg without König there;

Hereditary illness exacerbated by stress.

It's mostly fallen into the cracks of reader's family history after her ancestor married into nobility- not a lot to be dangerously stressed about when you're waited on hand and foot by servants, after all.

But then once reader stops making any attempt to leave her room, servants have to start bringing her her meals, and they start noticing that she seems to be getting increasingly thinner despite the meals being at least half eaten. She seems more exhausted, her hands shaky and trembling, embroidery or painting projects left tossed in the corner of her bedroom after she couldn't hold onto the needle or brush, let alone do any precision work.

Gossip spreads through the servants of the Duchess being ill (though none seem particularly caring of this fact) until it starts to reach the boys' ears

Thank you!! I hope you enjoy this!!

The first sign that something was wrong- truly wrong- came when one of the younger maids hesitated outside John’s office. Her apron was wrinkled, and she kept wringing the cloth in her hands until the edges frayed. Kyle, always perceptive, was the one to notice her first.

“What is it?” His sharp eyes pinned her in place.

The maid flinched but didn’t run. Instead, she stepped forward, voice trembling. “I-It’s the Duchess, sir.”

That was all it took for the entire room to still.

John had been in the middle of correspondence, quill poised mid-sentence, but he set it down without finishing the word. Simon’s ever-present stoicism cracked, his fingers tightening around the edge of the table.

“What about her?” John’s voice, though even, had an undercurrent of tension.

The maid looked at him with wide, uncertain eyes. “She’s… ill, sir. She’s not been leaving her room-”

“We know that.” John interrupted, his voice a low growl.

“No- no, sir, I mean really ill. She’s not eating much anymore, but- she’s thinner, sir. Much thinner than before. And her hands shake something awful when she tries to hold a spoon or cup. I saw it myself when I brought her tea this morning… it’s- it’s been going on for a while now, we’ve all noticed but I just couldn’t- couldn’t stand back anymore, I’m so sorry.”

The words dropped into the room like a stone into a pond. And the silence that followed was thick, pressing, suffocating.

John was the first to move, striding out of the room with the others close behind him. The maid was left in their wake, her words repeating themselves in her head as though she’d spoken some terrible thing into existence.

They found you where you always were now- alone in the dim bedroom, wrapped in blankets but still somehow shivering. The curtains had been drawn tight, the hearth left to burn low, and the air was stale with disuse.

You didn’t even stir when the door opened.

John froze at the sight of you, the sharp tang of guilt clawing up his throat. He could see it immediately- the way your cheeks had hollowed, the slight tremor in your fingers as you clutched the edges of the blanket. The soft silk of your gown hung loose at your shoulders, as though it no longer fit the same way it used to. An old one- one you’d worn at the beginning if your marriage, still hopeful for companionship from a husband who didn’t care for you.

Kyle was the first to break from his stupor, stepping forward and kneeling at your bedside. “… Duchess?” His voice was softer than John had ever heard it, but it still seemed too loud in the suffocating quiet.

You stirred then, eyes fluttering open just enough to see him.

“Kyle?”

The hoarseness in your voice struck something in him- hurt him in a way he wasn’t prepared for.

“I’m here, darling,” he murmured. He reached out, gently brushing his knuckles against your cheek, and frowned at how warm your skin felt. “What’s happened to you?”

You tried to sit up, but your body betrayed you, trembling with the effort until Kyle and Johnny had to steady you with firm hands.

“I’m fine.” You said. The words were paper-thin, weak and unsteady.

“You’re not fine.” John cut in, his voice harder than he meant it to be. You flinched, and it made his heart squeeze painfully.

Simon said nothing, but he hovered near the foot of the bed, his sharp gaze flicking over you as if committing every detail to memory. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, but what was there to do or say? He felt like he might break you should he even brush his fingers across your skin.

“It’s nothing.” you murmured, turning your head away.

“Nothing?” John repeated, dangerously low. He stepped closer, dropping to his knees at your bedside, one hand finding yours. “You think this is nothing?”

Your fingers twitched in his grasp, but you didn’t pull away. You couldn’t even meet his eyes.

“I know…” Your voice cracked, and you squeezed your eyes shut. “I know you don’t care. Why- why are you here now?”

It felt like the air had been knocked out of him.

“Don’t care?” John echoed, tinged with disbelief.

“None of you came,” you whispered. “Not once. I thought… I thought maybe it was easier for you that way. You- is this not what you wanted?”

Simon made a sound then- low and guttural- and moved to kneel on your other side, opposite Kyle. He reached for your other hand, lifting it carefully to his lips. His breath was warm against your skin, but you didn’t react.

“I’ll get the doctor.” Johnny said abruptly, spinning on his heel and leaving before anyone could stop him.

Kyle stayed close, his hand never leaving your shoulder, while Simon stroked your knuckles in slow, deliberate motions. But it was John who finally spoke.

“We should have come sooner,” he admitted, voice heavy with regret. “I should have come sooner. Duchess- I’m so sorry.”

You blinked, your lashes damp with unshed tears. “Why didn’t you?”

The words cut deeper than any blade.

He looked at you then, taking in every fragile, exhausted detail- the way your breath came too shallowly, the slight tremor in your fingers, the sheen of sweat on your skin despite the chill in the room.

“Because I was a fool,” he said softly. “Because I let myself think you were fine without us.”

You didn’t answer, but the way your fingers curled just slightly around his told him enough.

When Johnny returned with the doctor, the room erupted into motion. You were carefully propped up, fed broth spoonful by spoonful, your pulse checked, and your temperature taken. The doctor’s diagnosis was both alarming and infuriating- stress-induced illness, made worse by malnutrition and exhaustion. It wasn’t until he began asking about your family history that the pieces truly started to click.

“You’ve been predisposed to this,” he explained, while they watched in silent, setting horror. “It’s genetic, though dormant in most cases. But stress- particularly prolonged stress- can trigger it. I’d wager it’s been simmering for weeks, if not months.”

Months.

Kyle and Johnny exchanged glances, and Simon looked like he was ready to tear someone apart. Mabe himself.

John didn’t move from your side.

“What does she need?” he demanded.

“Rest. Food. Care. But most importantly…” The doctor’s gaze swept across all of them. Rumors flew with the wind, and he was still not old enough to lose his hearing. “No more stress.”

John nodded firmly, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You’ll have everything you need.” He promised.

But his words held no particular weight to you.

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lady-of-endless · 6 days ago

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"Veiled Intentions" (Hwang In-ho/Player 001/Front man x player!reader)

Summary: No game of cat and mouse ends well.

Author's Note: Thank you so much to everyone who voted for this fic to be done first. I'm happy to provide. He might be a little obsessive, but you should've expected it by now. Don't worry; I got a softer, heartfelt, and angsty fic on the go for tomorrow. Hope you'll enjoy this one until then, darlings!

(Squid Game masterlist here)

Whenever he flashed a smile to the team, no one noticed how the coldness of his eyes was somehow still persistent. The charm of his smile always eclipsed that detail. It was enough to successfully manipulate most players, except for you. The only one who seemed to see the bigger picture was you and he could sense it. No amount of calculated smooth-talking, apparent encouragement, or fake short smiles could trick you too.

The others seemed to accept him easily, either for the calmness that made him seem reliable or for the vital need to have more people with the same vote. Not you, and it was clear to him.

In-ho had a plan going on; he had no intention of wasting time and trying harder to trick you too, letting you do your silent judging. But still, you were slowly becoming more and more present in his mind. You weren't warming up to him, weren't impressed like the others. Why not? More importantly, why did he like it that way? You were smarter and he enjoyed watching you analyzing everyone around, including him. Yes, you were a problem for him, but he was almost proud of having such a fascinating problem to take care of.

In-ho was too good at looking relieved, and joyful whenever the other players from player 456's team made it during the games. You noticed a strange spark in his eyes whenever you also completed the games. Was he really relieved or just glad that with each game he was getting closer to taking care of you personally?

Even now, he was watching you silently when the speakers announced bedtime. You all remembered what was the plan Gi-hun came up with to stay safe and looked around for a lonely bed bunk. Your constant doubt pushed you to come up with a plan to figure him out and now it was the perfect time to strike.

In-ho was ready to make a strategic choice when your voice interrupted his thoughts again.

"Join me?" You asked bluntly, with a warm smile on your face. A fake smile, a reflection of his. He looked at you, raising an eyebrow at your proposal. "For bonding time, getting along." You added, encouragingly, almost playfully, not to stir suspicion in others.

All the other teammates noticed how you kept your distance from him and were glad to see you try to get along.

In-ho almost wanted to chuckle at your reasoning but his expression remained composed. He could tell that you were trying to convince him with your charm and that you only played a role. And he was doing the same.

"Lead the way then." In-ho responded calmly, as always.

In-ho had a small, almost imperceptible smirk on his face the whole time following you, and his eyes were glued to the nape of your neck. How could he ignore you?

You crawled carefully under a bed that was placed closer to a corner no one else chose. A shiver ran down your spine when he joined you effortlessly, making almost no sound at all. The lights dimmed. However, that wasn't the problem. The problem was that the space from under the beds was not enough for two. Both of you were lying down on your backs, staring at the bed from above. His shoulder was pressed against yours, the feeling was impossible to push aside.

You closed your eyes tightly, cursing the tight space and sighing deeply. Why didn't you think this through? In-ho was amused by your frustration and how your body tensed next to his.

"You seemed so sure about this." He teased with a mocking tone he didn't even try to hide.

The way his voice sounded so intimate in the dark and how his warmth surrounded you, were making it hard to stick to the plan. You grew a little hotter under your clothes but you had to go for it. You took a breath in and spoke in a whisper.

"I can see right through your tactics." You said bluntly, still looking at the bed from above to avoid his gaze, knowing how intense it gets sometimes. You were almost proud of the sternness of your tone. "What are your intentions?"

He didn't respond right away, taking time to just look at your expression. In-ho was a meticulous man, he was expecting that question sooner or later from you.

"Wasn't I clear from the start?" In-ho asked calmly, almost innocently, switching his position to lay on his stomach and elbows, never losing sight of you. That position forced you to look up at him, exactly the way he liked it. He was getting too comfortable for someone who was cornered. Seeing how there was no sign of panic or surprise on his face, the previous boost of confidence was starting to slowly diminish in you.

"I think we both know what I mean." You added coldly, letting him know you've had enough of his games. He could feel your patience running thin and he was enjoying it.

Your assumption was true; you were so close to figuring it out but, at the same time, so far away, so clueless about what he really wanted, what he really was capable of. It gave him the freedom of acting anyways he wanted for a little bit.

"Indeed." He said, seeing an opening and moving a hand to the opposite side of your face on the floor, making it look like he was just supporting himself and not caging you. "And that's because you're playing the same games, don't you agree?" He asked smoothly. He watched as you rolled your eyes and looked away to hide your real reaction, taking you longer to respond. In-ho didn't insist, wanting to take his time exposing you bit by bit. When you turned your head back at him to answer, your heart halted, words dying. Your eyes met intimately, his face was even closer than expected.

"It won't work with me." His breath touched your lips. He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear to see your face better. He frowned when he caught himself giving in to his instincts, his fingertips caressing your cheek and stopping on your lower lip without thinking.

"But your tries were..." He added, applying pressure on your sensitive skin and moving his lips even closer to yours slowly. "Entertaining, to say the least."

In-ho watched your expression closely, observing the details of your face in the dark. He couldn't get enough that moment but his face didn't betray any sign of the greed that was coursing through him. So he didn't stop there, using the momentum of your shock.

"Was it fun?" He asked, mercilessly but blissfully tormenting and playing you. "To feel like you had the upper hand?" He whispered while his hand descended to the base of your neck.

In-ho looked at your parted lips again, waiting for your answer and not moving away. There was a storm of conflicted thoughts in your mind and the warmth of his palm on your pulse point was not helping you find a good answer in time.

"Answer me." His grip tightened slightly, his tone smooth yet demanding. "And look at me, darling"

You looked up at him and nodded, admitting silently. Finally, you understood what you got yourself into and felt more than exposed. It was frustrating how easily he switched the roles from being the one interrogated to the one asking whatever he wanted.

You shivered at the sight of his subtle smirk. It was nothing like the bright fake smile he offered to the team. One corner of his lips curled upwards while the rest of his expression remained composed. His eyes glinted with icy, calculated sharpness. Finally, you could see him, whoever he was, and not the simple player 001.

In-ho was studying her, thinking about how you weren't aware of the effect you had on him from how well he was concealing it. Still, none of your questions were answered.

"What are you going to-"

"Hush." He murmured against your lips, cutting your words. "Don't wake the others."

In-ho slowly traced your collarbones through the thin material of the shirt with your player number and placed his whole palm on your chest over your racing heart. He paused, just to feel your heart, taking credit for its hectic beating. The silence that surrounded you was not helping either, you could hear every breath, every move, enhancing the intimate feeling so much you had to remind yourself that you were still in the middle of a sick challenge with daily deadly games.

He looked back into your eyes and spoke softly, seeing your inner conflict, wanting to distract you from it. "I've caught you staring at me so many times."

"I was just spacing out." You whispered, not hesitating this time but still telling him another lie.

Even the always calm, rarely out of character In-ho chuckled at that. It was a pleasant, unfiltered but still strange sound.

"Liar." He said while caressing your hair again but making sure to tug gently at the roots as a warning. "You had so many opportunities to push me away since we got under here." He whispered, almost tenderly, meaning it. His eyes were not locked on yours. Was it because he was letting himself think out loud? "But you don't want to do that..." He added, pausing his touches, giving you time to object. But the truth was that your denial ended with him calling you 'darling'. That waited objection never came and In-ho understood.

With that, he allowed himself to take what he wanted. He thought to himself that it was inevitable. His lips found yours with an unexpected gentleness despite his restrained hunger. The hellhole you were trapped in seemed to fade away with the way his lips explored yours. His fingers tightened possessively against your skin as the kiss deepened. His warmth was embracing you blissfully but his tongue was making you dizzy with each breath he was stealing from you.

After what felt like time, bending to his will, In-ho broke the kiss slowly. Even if you didn't say a word, he still covered your lips with his finger for a moment.

"I'm expecting you to still be smart about this and keep it private." He spoke in your ear, an expectation or a warning. "Do that and you'll be safe no matter what."

What you couldn't understand was that this was a hidden promise. If you kept whatever he gave you a secret for yourself, he would pull all the strings to get you alone with him, away from that game.

#squid game #squid game 2 #squidgame #hwang in ho #player 001 #front man #hwang in ho x reader #front man x reader #player 001 x reader #squid game fanfic #squid game fic #squid game x reader #squid game x you #squid game x y/n

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ha-rinrin · 2 months ago

Text

Torn Between Fire and Ice Sequel

Continuation of this fic, if you haven't read it, please do before reading this otherwise you won't understand most of it.

Pairing: Jinx x fem!reader (Caitlyns little sister)

Word count: 20k

Warning: smut

Authors note: well.. this took longer than expected. I got carried away and made it way to long, sorry for that, if this isn't what you expected I'm sorry to disappoint. To be honest, I’m not completely satisfied with it, but oh well—too late now.

materlist

You’re curled up on Jinx’s makeshift couch, nestled against her in the dim, cluttered space she calls home. Her arms are wrapped around you, holding you close like she’s afraid to let go. The familiar scent of gunpowder and paint clings to her clothes, grounding you in the chaos that somehow feels safer than anywhere else.

Jinx’s fingers trace absent patterns on your arm, her breath soft against your temple. For a while, neither of you speaks. The silence is comfortable, almost fragile—like if either of you says anything, it’ll shatter the small bubble you’ve created here. But after a moment, she tilts her head, her voice breaking through the quiet.

“So…” she says, her voice low, almost hesitant, “you going back home after this?”

The question hangs in the air, and you feel the weight of it press down on your chest. Home. Back to Piltover, back to Caitlyn, back to the reality you’d been hiding from. You can still see the hurt in your sister’s eyes, the betrayal, the shock of seeing you with Jinx. It’s all too fresh, too raw, and just thinking about it makes your stomach twist.

But here, in Jinx’s arms, the choice doesn’t feel so simple. Here, you feel like you’re allowed to be who you are—no pretenses, no expectations. Just you, with her.

You sigh, resting your head against her shoulder. “I don’t know,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “Going back feels… complicated.” The words feel like an understatement, but they’re all you have for now.

Jinx goes quiet for a moment, her hand slowing in its gentle path along your arm. She doesn’t ask you to explain, doesn’t press you for more. Instead, she shifts slightly, tightening her arms around you in a silent show of support.

“Guess I’m pretty complicated too,” she says with a smirk, though her tone is softer, more thoughtful than usual. “Ain’t easy, sticking around with me.”

You can’t help but smile, reaching up to brush a stray strand of blue hair from her face. “You’re complicated, sure. But… I’m not exactly in this for easy.”

Her eyes meet yours, and for once, there’s no glint of mischief, no teasing smirk—just a vulnerable, honest expression that she rarely lets anyone see. “I don’t wanna be the reason you lose everything,” she murmurs.

You shift a little closer, taking her hand in yours, your thumb tracing over her knuckles. The weight of her words settles in your chest, heavy and tender. It’s strange, seeing Jinx like this—unguarded, stripped of her bravado, and revealing the part of her that worries, that cares.

“You’re not,” you say softly, squeezing her hand. “It’s not that simple. Caitlyn… she just doesn’t understand.”

Jinx lets out a bitter laugh, her fingers lacing with yours. “Yeah, can’t really blame her,” she mutters, her gaze slipping away, focusing on some far-off point in the room. “All she’s ever seen is… well, you know. The explosions, the chaos. The mess I leave behind.” She falls silent, her jaw clenched, and for a second, you can see the cracks beneath her tough exterior.

You shift, lifting her chin gently so she’s looking at you. “I don’t care what she thinks. I know who you are, Jinx. Who you are with me.”

Her eyes search yours, a flicker of doubt giving way to something softer, something almost hopeful. She opens her mouth to say something, but then closes it, like she can’t find the right words. Instead, she leans into you, resting her forehead against yours, her breath mingling with yours in the quiet.

“I never thought I’d have this,” she whispers, her voice raw. “Someone who… who’s willing to look past all that. To stay.”

Her vulnerability pulls at something deep inside you, and you feel your own heart aching in response. You press a gentle kiss to her forehead, brushing away the doubts, the fears that linger there. “I’m here,” you murmur against her skin. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Jinx lets out a shaky breath, her arms tightening around you like she’s afraid you’ll slip away. “Good,” she murmurs, her voice steadying as she pulls you closer, her head resting against your shoulder. “Because you’re the only thing that makes any of this make sense.”

Jinx shifts beside you, playing with a loose thread on her sleeve as if she’s trying to find the right words. After a moment, she glances up, her expression softer, more serious than usual.

“You know…” she starts, her voice hesitant. “Maybe… maybe you should go home. Just to grab some of your things.” Her fingers trace patterns on your arm as she speaks, her gaze focused on the movement. “I mean, if you don’t wanna go back for good, that’s fine. You can… stay here. With me. If you want.”

You blink, caught off guard by her offer. It’s not like Jinx to suggest something so practical, and the thought of staying here, of making this place your own hideaway with her, sends a strange warmth through you.

“You… you’d want that?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

She meets your gaze, and for once, there’s no teasing, no smirk—just an earnestness that makes your heart skip. “Look, I know this isn’t much.” She gestures to the cluttered room around you, a mix of salvaged gadgets, paint-splattered walls, and the faint scent of oil and metal. “But it’s real. And I’m here. So… if it’d help, you’re welcome to stay as long as you want. Long as you’re okay with all this mess.”

You can feel the vulnerability in her words, the unspoken fear that you’ll say no, that you’ll choose something safer, cleaner. But as you look around, you can’t help but smile. It may be chaotic, but it’s hers—warm and full of life in a way that nowhere else is.

“Yeah,” you say softly, squeezing her hand. “I’d like that.”

Her eyes light up with a spark of relief, her lips curling into a genuine, lopsided grin. “Good. 'Cause I was worried you’d miss all your fancy Piltover stuff.”

You laugh, nudging her playfully. “I think I’ll survive. Besides, I can just grab a few things and bring them here.”

Jinx’s grin widens, her hand finding its way to your cheek as she leans in, her voice soft. “Then it’s settled. You’re staying with me.”

You slipped back into Piltover as discreetly as you could, taking a winding path through the quieter alleys to avoid any unwanted attention. With each step closer to your house, the memory of that last encounter with Caitlyn burned fresh in your mind—the cutting words, the anger in her eyes, the undeniable rift between you. You hesitated at your door, hand lingering on the handle, knowing that opening it meant facing everything you’d tried to leave behind in Zaun.

Steeling yourself, you stepped inside, the familiar space feeling strange now, as if you never belonged there in the first place. You moved quickly through the house, heading to your room, trying to gather the essentials. As you stuffed a few clothes into a bag, the silence grew louder, almost mocking you.

And then you heard footsteps behind you.

“You finally came back, huh?” Caitlyn’s voice cut through the tension, sharp and accusatory. You spun around to see her standing in the doorway, arms crossed, her expression a mix of concern and fury.

“I thought I told you to stay away from her!” she snapped, taking a step closer.

“And choosing Jinx is a mistake!” Caitlyn pressed, her voice rising. “You have no idea what you’re getting into. She’ll destroy you!”

“Maybe I don’t care,” you replied, a defiance sparking in your chest. “You don’t get to dictate my fucking life.” your fingers digging into your palm as if trying to anchor yourself against the wave of frustration threatening to drown you.

At that moment, your mom's voice broke in, steady and commanding, A knot twisted in your stomach. “What’s going on here?” Cassandra Kiramman stood at the threshold of your room, her presence imposing.

Caitlyn immediately turned to her, the anger shifting focus. “Mom, she’s been with that… that criminal. You have to do something!” Your shoulders tensed with each word that left her mouth.

Your mom’s brow furrowed, her eyes darting between you and Caitlyn. “What do you mean? What’s going on?”

“She's involved with Jinx,” Caitlyn spat, urgency lacing her tone. “Mom, you know what she’s done, what she is. This isn’t just a phase for her—this is dangerous!” You clenched your jaw tight, she didn't know Jinx like you did, if she did, she wouldn't be spitting shit.

Your mother’s expression shifted from surprise to alarm, the weight of her role on the council pressing down on her. “Jinx? You’re serious?” Her voice trembled slightly, a rare crack in her usual composure. “You know what she’s capable of. She thrives on chaos, and we all know it.”

“Cait, stop!” you interjected, your frustration flaring. “I’m not some helpless child. I can make my own choices.” your voice sharp with frustration as you squared your shoulders, hands curling into tense fists at your sides.

Your mom's eyes narrowed, her motherly instincts kicking in. “Choosing Jinx is a terrible decision! You can’t possibly understand the risks involved. She’s a criminal, a threat to everything we’ve worked for.”

“I’m not ignoring anything!” you retorted, the anger boiling over. “I know who she is, and I’m still choosing to be with her.” you retorted, your voice trembling.

Caitlyn shook her head, disbelief etched on her features. “You’re making a huge mistake. You’re putting yourself in danger—she’ll ruin you!”

“Enough!” your mom commanded, stepping into the room with an imposing presence. “This is not a game. Jinx is reckless and unpredictable. Do you really think you can handle her?”

Your heart raced, a mix of defiance and desperation swirling inside you. “I’m not a child anymore! get that through your head. I can decide for myself!”

“Is that what you really think this is all about?” Cassandra’s voice dropped, laced with a blend of fear and urgency. “I’ve seen what she can do. She’s not just a bad influence—she’ll drag you into a life of chaos and danger. You’re risking everything!”

Caitlyn stepped forward, anger blazing in her eyes. “You’re playing with fire! You’re risking your future for someone who doesn’t care about you. I’m trying to protect you!”

“Protect me?!” you exclaimed, feeling the walls close in. “You’re just scared because you don’t understand our relationship!”

“Scared?” Caitlyn retorted, disbelief written all over her face. “No, I’m furious! I won’t stand by while you make a huge mistake!”

Your mom took a breath, her authority tinged with desperation. “This isn’t just about you; it’s about the danger Jinx represents. She’s hurt people—she’ll hurt you too!”

The air in the room thickened, the intensity palpable as you felt trapped between their concerns.

“I don’t need your protection!” you shouted, your voice echoing in the charged atmosphere. “I can handle myself!”

“You’re acting like this is some kind of romance when it’s a disaster waiting to happen!” Caitlyn shot back, her frustration bubbling over.

Caitlyn stepped closer, her eyes blazing with intensity. “This is about saving you from yourself. You deserve better than someone like her!”

Your mom’s gaze softened, but the fear in her eyes was unmistakable. “I love you. Please, don’t make this harder than it has to be. You know the council takes Jinx seriously. She’s a liability. You’re not thinking clearly!”

She took a deep breath, her voice steady but filled with urgency. “If Jinx gets caught, I won’t be able to protect her. She’ll be sent to Stillwater without hesitation. And if you’re with her when it happens, you’ll be seen as an accomplice. Do you understand what that means for you?”

You could feel the weight of her words pressing down on you, the gravity of the situation sinking in. The thought of Jinx being locked away, isolated and forgotten in that prison, made your heart ache. But you couldn’t let that fear dictate your choices.

“I can’t let you do this,” you said, voice trembling. “I won’t let you ruin what I have with her.”

Caitlyn’s expression shifted, a mix of disbelief and anger. “You’re not seeing how serious this is! You’re risking everything—your safety, your future! Jinx doesn’t care about you.”

Your mom interjected, her tone urgent. “This isn’t just a phase; this is your life. If she keeps this up, I will have no choice but to act. I won’t lose you to someone like her!”

The tension in the room was palpable as you felt trapped, your whole body shaking from all the emotions coursing through you.

“Maybe I’m willing to take that risk. Maybe I’d rather be with her than live a life dictated by fear,” you said, desperation creeping into your voice.

Caitlyn shook her head, rage flashing in her eyes. “You’re making a huge mistake. You’ll end up in Stillwater too—just for being close to her!”

Your mom stepped forward, her expression serious. “Think about what you’re saying. You’re putting yourself in a position where the council will see you as a threat. You could lose everything you’ve worked for, everything we’ve built as a family.”

As their words echoed in your mind, the weight of the consequences loomed larger. But in your heart, you knew one thing: you would fight for Jinx, no matter what it took.

You could see the desperation etched on Caitlyn's face, the genuine worry underlying her fury. And then there was your mom, her steady gaze trying to pierce through your defiance, a plea masked as authority.

“Do you really think Jinx will choose you over her own freedom?” Caitlyn pressed, her voice low but fierce. “She’s not some fairy tale character who’ll ride off into the sunset with you. She’s a criminal,a murderer, and here you’re setting yourself up for heartbreak.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of her words crashing down like a wave. “What do you want me to do? Just forget her? Pretend we never happened?”

“Yes!” Caitlyn exclaimed, her voice rising again. “It’s not about forgetting; it’s about surviving. Jinx will only bring you pain and danger. You have no idea what you're stepping into!”

“I’m not running away from my feelings,” you shot back, your voice growing more confident. “If Jinx is captured, then yes, I might suffer the consequences. But I’ll face those consequences knowing I stood by her.”

Your mom took a step forward, her eyes searching yours, pleading for understanding. “You think you’re prepared for what comes next? If she’s caught, they won’t just throw her in Stillwater; they’ll make an example of her. And if you’re involved, you’ll be branded a criminal too.”

Caitlyn interjected, her voice softer now but still urgent. “Please, think about your future. You’re on the brink of adulthood; you have your whole life ahead of you. Jinx won’t wait for you to figure things out. She’ll pull you into her world, and it’s not a world you want to be part of.”

You felt the weight of their concerns pressing in, but your heart was resolute. “Maybe I want to be part of that world. Jinx makes me feel alive in ways I never imagined.”

“Alive?” Caitlyn scoffed, disbelief etched across her features. “What kind of life is this? One filled with chaos, danger, and heartbreak? You need to see Jinx for who she really is.”

The tension in the room thickened, and for a moment, it felt like a standoff—two sides of a battlefield, each fighting for their version of the truth. Your mind raced with the potential consequences, yet all you could think about was Jinx, her wild laughter, her gentle caresses, and the moments you shared.

“Look,” you finally said, your voice steadying, “I can’t promise you that things will be easy. But I know what I feel for Jinx is real, and I refuse to let anyone take that away from me. I’ll find a way to make this work, no matter what happens.”

Your mom’s expression shifted, her eyes clouded with fear. “If you choose this path, you need to be prepared for the fallout. I won’t stand by while you throw your life away for someone who may not be worth it.”

“I have to make my own choices,” you insisted. “You can’t protect me from everything. If Jinx is sent to Stillwater, then I’ll find a way to help her. I’ll fight for her, no matter the cost.”

With that declaration hanging in the air, you felt a sense of clarity, a resolve that ignited your spirit. Caitlyn’s frustration radiated from her, and your mom’s fear was palpable, but you stood firm in your decision.

“Just remember,” your mom said, her voice low and serious, “you’re not just risking yourself; you’re risking everything we’ve built together. I hope you realize what that means before it’s too late.”

The weight of her words lingered in the silence, but in your heart, you knew you had to follow your path—whatever it might bring.

Your sister and mom finally left you alone, closing the door on their way out, you were alone, just you and your thoughts.

With your backpack slung over your shoulder, you reached for the door, ready to face whatever lay outside. But when you turned the handle, it wouldn’t budge. You twisted it again, more forcefully this time, but the door remained stubbornly locked.

“Seriously?” you muttered, trying again and again to open the door, frustration bubbling within you. “Mom, you can’t be serious.”

Caitlyn talked through the door, “We’re doing this for your own good,” she insisted, her voice steady. “You don’t see the danger you’re putting yourself in.”

You turned back to the door, rattling the handle as if it would magically give in. “Let me out! I can handle this!”

“No,” your mom said, her voice firm. “You need to understand that this isn’t just about you and Jinx. It’s about the risks she brings into your life.”

“Risk?” you scoffed, heart pounding in frustration. “What risk? The only thing I’m risking is my happiness by not being with her!”

“You’re being reckless. You don’t even know what Jinx is capable of. You think it’s all fun and games, but it’s not. You’ll end up hurt, and I won’t let that happen.”

“How many times do I have to say this!, I’m not a kid anymore, Caitlyn!” you shot back, anger flaring. “I’m old enough to make my own choices, and I choose Jinx. You can’t just lock me away because you’re scared!”

Your mom’s voice softened. “It’s not fear. It’s love. I can’t stand by and watch you throw everything away for someone like her.”

“What if I don’t care about everything?” you shouted, the words spilling out before you could think. “What if I’d rather have Jinx and deal with the consequences than live a life without her?”

Caitlyn’s eyes flashed with frustration. “You’re being selfish! You don’t understand what’s at stake.”

“Selfish?!” you yelled, the tension in the room reaching a boiling point. “You’re the one who’s being selfish by trying to control my life!”

The air was thick with tension, each heartbeat echoing the conflict swirling around you. You turned back to the door, pulling at the handle again, desperation rising. “Let me out!”

“No!” Caitlyn’s voice rang out, firm and unyielding. “You need to think about this. You’re making a huge mistake, and I won’t let you ruin your life over some misguided infatuation!”

Your mom stepped forward, her tone serious. “This is not a decision you can take lightly. Jinx is a wanted criminal, and she’ll drag you into her world. Do you understand the risks? The council won’t hesitate to take action if they catch her again, and if you’re with her…”

“I know!” you shouted, feeling the weight of their words crashing down. “I know what I’m getting into. But I can’t just walk away from someone who makes me feel alive!”

Caitlyn’s expression softened slightly, her anger giving way to something closer to concern. “You don’t have to do this alone. We can help you, but you need to let us in.”

The weight of her plea hung in the air, and for a moment, doubt flickered in your heart. “Help me how? By forcing me to abandon everything I care about?”

“We want what’s best for you,” Caitlyn insisted, her voice steady. “But this isn’t the way. You’re playing with fire.”

As you stood there, caught between their worry and your determination, you felt the gravity of the situation sink in. But in your heart, you knew one thing: you couldn’t abandon Jinx. You wouldn’t.

With a heavy sigh, you turned away from the door, the reality of your choices pressing down on you. “I can’t just forget about her. I won’t let you lock me away to try and prevent me from seeing Jinx.”

“Then you’re choosing this path on your own,” your mom said, her voice laced with sadness. “But just remember, the council doesn’t play games. If they see you with Jinx, it won’t just be her that pays the price. You will too.”

And with that, the tension settled back into the room, leaving you feeling trapped, not just physically but emotionally, as the weight of your choices loomed larger than ever.

The house was silent now, the echoes of the confrontation still ringing in your ears. You stood by the window, staring out into the night, and it suddenly clicked: this was your only escape route. Your heart raced as you took a deep breath, looking back to your door, where your mom and sister where, just behind it.

You stepped out of the window, feeling the cool night air rush past you. Just as you steadied yourself on the edge of the roof, a hand reached out to help you up. You gasped in surprise, your heart skipping a beat. Jinx stood there, her wild blue hair illuminated by the moonlight, a grin stretching across her face.

“About time you made a move!” she said, a mix of relief and mischief dancing in her eyes.

“I didn’t know you were here!” you exclaimed, still catching your breath.

“Yeah, I’ve been waiting. Heard the shouting match—sounded intense,” she replied, her tone shifting to something more serious. “Are you okay?”

You looked back at the dark silhouette of your home, the memories of your family flooding your mind. “No… but I will be,” you murmured, the weight of leaving everything you knew pressing down on you.

Jinx stepped closer, her expression softening. “We’re getting out of here. I promise I’ll be with you every step of the way okay?,” she said, her voice steady.

You nodded, gratitude filling you. As she guided you along the roof towards the edge, a wave of melancholy washed over you. The city below, with its familiar sights and sounds, felt like a distant memory. Leaving your family, your sister, everything you had known stung deeply, but you pushed the feelings aside, knowing you had to focus on the path ahead.

With Jinx by your side, you prepared to step into the shadows of Zaun, where new beginnings awaited, even as the weight of your past lingered in your heart.

You’re lying on the worn couch in Jinx’s hideout, your body pressed against hers. Your face is nestled in the crook of her neck, feeling the warmth of her skin. One of your legs is draped comfortably across her waist, while the other is tucked beneath you. Jinx wraps her arms around you, holding you close. One of her hands rests gently on your thigh, grounding you with its warmth, while the other hand softly traces patterns along your back, providing a soothing rhythm. You can feel her heartbeat steady against you, which helps calm the storm of emotions inside.

As you lie together, you feel her warmth seep into you, wrapping around you like a protective blanket. “Hey,” she whispers softly, her voice barely above a murmur, “I’m right here.”

You shift slightly, seeking her gaze. Her eyes are bright with concern, but there’s also a spark of something playful, a glimmer that reminds you of why you fell for her. “You know,” she continues, her fingers still dancing along your back, “you’re the best thing I’ve got”

A soft smile creeps onto your face at her words, but it quickly fades as the weight of your feelings crashes back in. You’ve left so much behind—your family, your old life—because they could never understand your love for her. “I feel like I lost everything,” you admit, your voice shaking as tears finally spill down your cheeks little by little.

Jinx’s expression shifts as she takes in your tears, her brow furrowing with concern. She leans closer, brushing her lips against your forehead. “It’s okay to feel like that,” she murmurs, her voice soft and steady. “You’ve been through so much.”

You can feel her warmth radiating through the fabric of your clothes, a comforting presence against the weight of your sorrow. “I want to be strong for you, but sometimes it feels too heavy,” you confess, your voice trembling. The truth spills out, raw and unfiltered. “I miss them, Jinx. I miss my sister, my mom, everything I left behind.”

Her hold tightens around you as if she can shield you from the hurt. “I wish I could take it all away,” she whispers, her breath warm against your skin. “But just remember, you’re not alone in this. You have me. I’m right here.”

Jinx’s sincerity washes over you, a balm to your aching heart. You lift your head slightly, locking your gaze with hers. The glimmer of determination in her eyes makes you feel seen, understood. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you admit, your voice thick with emotion.

“Then don’t think about it,” she replies, a hint of mischief in her tone as she tries to lighten the moment. “Just focus on us, on this—here and now. We’ll figure everything out together.”

She nudges your cheek with her nose playfully, a gesture meant to coax a smile out of you. It works, just a little. The corner of your lips twitch, and you can’t help but let out a soft laugh through your tears. Jinx’s eyes light up at that, and she leans in to plant a soft kiss on your lips, sealing the moment with warmth and love.

With her arms still wrapped securely around you, you find solace in her presence. The world outside fades, leaving just the two of you.

You feel cocooned in the moment, the chaos of the world outside Jinx's hideout dimming to a distant hum. The scent of her hair—sweet and a little smoky—fills your senses, grounding you even more. Jinx pulls back slightly, her eyes searching yours, as if she’s memorizing every detail, every emotion swirling behind them.

“You know,” she begins, her tone softening, “I’m not exactly a ‘normal’ girl. I might be a bit… chaotic.” A small, playful grin tugs at her lips, a mischievous spark igniting in her gaze. “But I promise to always be your chaos. Just like I’m your explosion, you’re my spark.”

Her words hang in the air, warm and comforting. You can’t help but smile, feeling the familiar flutter of affection blooming in your chest. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you reply, your voice a mix of sincerity and teasing.

With a playful nudge, Jinx leans back, stretching her legs out and tugging you closer, as if wanting to make sure you’re tucked in securely. “See? We’re a perfect mess together,” she giggles, her laughter lightening the mood even more.

“Yeah, a beautiful mess,” you add, your heart swelling with love.

Jinx’s expression softens, and she brushes a thumb along your cheek, wiping away the remnants of your tears. “Let’s make a deal,” she says suddenly, her eyes sparkling with mischief again. “For every sad moment we have, we’ll balance it out with something ridiculous and fun. Like… a bubble bath fight! Or, or we could go set off some fireworks in the middle of the night!”

You laugh at the thought, imagining the chaos that would ensue. “As long as I’m with you, I’m in. Just maybe not the fireworks. You know how your plans usually go…”

“Hey! My plans are perfectly fine!” she protests with a grin. “But okay, no fireworks—just you and me, causing a ruckus in our own special way.”

With her playful spirit lighting the room, you feel the weight of your sadness begin to lift, replaced by warmth and laughter. In that moment, surrounded by the love and chaos that is Jinx, you know that you can face whatever comes next—together.

“Thanks for being you, Jinx,” you say softly, snuggling closer to her, your heart full of gratitude.

“Always,” she replies, a soft smile gracing her lips. “Now, let’s just enjoy this for a bit. No worries, just us.”

You close your eyes, breathing in the moment, savoring the warmth and safety of her embrace, knowing that as long as you’re together, you can weather any storm.

Jinx's playful spirit sparks an idea. “You know what we can to do so you can feel much better?” she says, a twinkle in her eye. “A bubble bath! It’s the perfect way to unwind.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “A bubble bath, huh? Sounds like a plan.”

Jinx jumps up, practically bouncing with excitement. “Come on! I’ll fill the tub and grab some bath bombs!” She disappears into the small bathroom, and you follow her, anticipation bubbling up inside you.

The sound of water fills the air as Jinx prepares the bath, the warm steam rising, mixing with the sweet scent of the bath products she loves. You can’t help but smile at how she always brings a touch of chaos to even the simplest moments.

As the tub fills with fluffy bubbles, you begin to shed your clothes, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. The water looks inviting, and the thought of sinking into it with Jinx makes your heart flutter.

Jinx turns around, her eyes gleaming as she holds up a colorful bath bomb. “Ready for some fun?” she asks, her grin infectious.

You nod, and she tosses it into the tub, causing a cascade of colors to swirl through the bubbles. “Look at that! So pretty!” she exclaims, her eyes lighting up.

You step into the warm water, a sigh of contentment escaping your lips as the bubbles envelop you. Jinx slips in next to you, her playful energy radiating as she wraps her arms around you from behind, pulling you close.

You lean back against her, feeling her warmth surround you like a cozy blanket. Jinx’s fingers gently comb through your hair, a soothing rhythm that melts away any lingering tension. “See? This is what I’m talking about,” she whispers, her breath warm against your ear. “Just us, no worries.”

You close your eyes, allowing the warmth of the water and her embrace to cocoon you in a comforting haven. “This is perfect,” you reply softly, relishing the moment.

As you bask in the warmth of the water, you feel Jinx’s presence enveloping you, both physically and emotionally. The gentle strokes of her fingers through your hair bring a sense of peace, and you can’t help but lean further into her, letting the stress of the outside world melt away.

Jinx chuckles softly, her laughter echoing lightly in the cozy space. “See? I told you bubble baths are the best. They have magic powers or something.”

You smile, turning slightly to meet her gaze. “Definitely. Your magic powers are working.”

Her eyes sparkle with mischief, and she leans closer, her breath a tantalizing whisper against your skin. “Just wait until I show you my secret bubble bath skills.”

Curiosity piqued, you lean in a little closer. “Oh? What are those?”

With a playful grin, Jinx shifts her position, wrapping her arms more securely around you. “Just us being together, soaking in the warmth and forgetting the world. That’s all the skill I need.”

You can’t help but smile at her simplicity. It’s moments like these, stripped of chaos and distractions, that make you realize how deeply connected you feel to her.

As the bubbles gently swirl around you, the warmth and intimacy of the moment send butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You meet her gaze, feeling a spark of vulnerability and excitement.

“I’m really glad you’re here with me,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Me too,” she replies, her tone sincere. “You make everything brighter.”

Slowly, she draws you closer until you can feel the steady rhythm of her heartbeat against your back. The ambiance shifts slightly, the playful atmosphere fading into a tender silence, filled with unspoken feelings.

Her gaze softens, and you sense the connection between you deepen. Jinx gave you a quick kiss at the top of your head, then both your cheek, Jinx leans in closer to your lips this time, her breath mingling with the warm air, sending shivers down your spine. “Can I kiss you?” she asks, her voice a mix of vulnerability and excitement.

Your heart races at the question, and all you can do is nod. In an instant, her lips are on yours, soft and sweet, a perfect contrast to the tranquil chaos of earlier. The kiss deepens, a soft exploration of warmth and trust, as the world outside disappears completely.

You melt into her, every worry and doubt fading away as you sink into the moment. The warmth of the water and Jinx’s embrace envelop you, creating a bubble of intimacy that feels safe and electric all at once.

As you melt into the kiss, you feel Jinx's fingers begin to wander gently along your arms, tracing delicate patterns against your skin. The warmth of her touch sends tingles coursing through you, amplifying the connection between you.

“You’re so soft,” she whispers, breaking the kiss for just a moment, her breath warm against your cheek. Her fingers continue their exploration, gliding from your shoulders down to your waist, every caress igniting a spark of electricity.

You lean back against her, letting her guide you further into relaxation. The water ripples gently around you as she pulls you closer, her hands roaming with a mix of tenderness and curiosity. Each brush of her fingertips feels like a sweet promise, a declaration of her affection that makes your heart race.

“Is this okay?” she murmurs, her voice laced with a hint of mischief, as her fingers slide along your sides, teasingly exploring the curves of your body.

You nod, breathless and eager, completely lost in the moment. “More than okay,” you reply softly, your voice shaky with anticipation.

Jinx’s fingers continue their dance, moving slowly as if she’s memorizing every inch of you. The gentle pressure of her touch is both soothing and thrilling, igniting a warmth that spreads through you like wildfire. She leans in, her lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “I love how you feel against me,” she whispers, her tone low and intimate.

Her hands explore further, gliding down your back and then around to your front, creating a cocoon of warmth and safety. You feel as though the outside world has faded away, leaving only the two of you wrapped in this perfect moment.

The water bubbles around you, and the scent of the bath products fills the air, creating an enchanting atmosphere. You close your eyes, losing yourself in the sensation of her fingers on your skin, each caress igniting a deep yearning within you.

As Jinx’s fingers continue their gentle exploration, they glide down from your waist, her touch light and teasing. You can feel the warmth of her body radiating against yours, heightening your senses with every brush of her skin.

Her fingers pause for a moment, hovering just above your chest. You meet her gaze, searching for reassurance, and the playful spark in her eyes gives you the courage to nod slightly. “You can touch me, Jinx,” you whisper, your heart racing with anticipation. You know exactly what she's going to do.

A mischievous smile spreads across her lips as Jinx's fingers begin to explore your breasts, and the world around you fades away, leaving only the electric sensations coursing through your body. She starts with a gentle caress, her touch soft and teasing, but it soon escalates to light squeezes, each one more intoxicating than the last. Finally, her fingers find your nipples, pinching with a newfound boldness, her restraint slipping with every movement. Each pinch sends thrilling shivers down your spine, igniting a warmth inside you that grows with every touch. Leaning back into her, you crave more of her warmth, surrendering to the intoxicating closeness that envelopes you both.

“Jinx…” you breathe, your voice thick with longing. Her fingers glide over your tits with sultry confidence, teasing and exploring, awakening a hunger within you that demands to be satisfied.

“Do you like that?” she murmurs, her voice low and playful. The warmth of her breath against your skin sends your heart racing, and you nod, completely lost in the sensations of her fingers slowly teasing your nipples with her fingers. “I want more,” you whisper, your desire clear.

With a mischievous smile, Jinx deepens her exploration. Her fingers slide lower, tracing the curves of your body with a feather-light touch. You can feel the heat radiating from her, igniting every nerve as her hands roam lower, finding their way to your waist.

“Just for you,” she promises, her sultry tone sending a thrill through you. Her lips capture yours in a heated kiss, filled with urgency and need. You melt into her, your body responding to her every movement, every kiss igniting a fire deep within you.

Jinx's kisses travel from your lips to your neck, her soft lips trailing kisses along your collarbone, sending delicious shivers racing down your spine. As she kisses her way up, her fingers brush against the sensitive skin of your neck, and suddenly, she finds a spot that makes you gasp—a place where her touch sends tingles of pleasure radiating through you.

“Right here?” she asks playfully, her lips hovering near that sensitive spot. You nod breathlessly, unable to form words as she leans in, her mouth capturing your skin. With a gentle bite and a little sucking, she leaves a hickey, marking you with her lips. The sensation of her mouth against your neck, combined with the delightful pressure of her hands roaming your body, sends waves of pleasure surging through you.

“Jinx!” you gasp, a mix of surprise and exhilaration flooding your senses. You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, but there’s a thrill in her possessive mark that makes your heart race even faster.

“Looks like I found your sweet spot,” she teases, her voice low and sultry as she continues to kiss and nibble at your neck, each touch igniting more heat within you. “I could spend all night right here.”

You lean back against her, surrendering fully to the sensations as her lips leave a soft trail of kisses along your neck, lingering on each spot with gentle care. Her hands explore your body with a tender curiosity, mapping out every curve as if savoring each one. She lets her fingers travel slowly, her touch becoming more intimate, until she finally reaches the sensitive area between your thighs, teasing in slow, delicate movements. Each kiss and every gentle caress along your skin builds the tension between you, and when her fingers begin to brush over your clit, your breath catches, a soft gasp escaping. The warmth radiating from her touch feels electric, and the heat simmering between you grows, filling the space with a heady sense of anticipation

“God, Jinx, it feels so good,” you manage to murmur through your moans, feeling lost in a haze of pleasure as she finally inserts her index and middle finger inside you. The world outside fades away, and all you can focus on is her—the warmth of her body against yours and the way her fingers come in and out of you ignites every nerve.

“Just relax and let me take care of you,” she murmurs, her lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. The way she says it sends a thrill through you, urging you to surrender completely to the sensations that engulf you.

Jinx’s lips continue to explore, her kisses trailing down your neck and lingering on the mark she’s left behind, making you feel cherished and desired.

As she continues working her magic with her fingers, you can feel the pressure building within you, the delicious tension leaving you breathless. “Please, don’t stop,” you beg, your heart racing as her fingers curl inside you, igniting the fire within you that craves more.

“Never,” she murmurs, her voice sultry and thick with desire. Her lips press against your neck once more, lingering on the sensitive skin there, each kiss purposeful and unhurried. Her hand moves gently, and you feel her thumb begin to trace slow, deliberate circles, building a steady rhythm against your clit. The sensation stirs a powerful, almost overwhelming wave of pleasure, but she’s patient, coaxing each reaction from you as if savoring every moment. The world around you fades completely, leaving only the feel of her touch, her warmth against you. Every kiss, every careful movement, draws you closer to her, binding you in a shared intimacy that feels electric, as if you’re the only two people in the world.

The air around you seems to thrum with energy as Jinx's fingers keep working you up, each movement perfectly timed to your breaths, making you lose yourself in the sensations. Her thumb circles against your clit with just the right amount of pressure, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through you. The warmth of the water envelops you both, creating an intimate that feels like a secret world just for the two of you.

“Jinx…” you breathe, your voice a mix of urgency and longing, every nerve in your body ignited by her touch. Your head tips back, resting against her shoulder, as you surrender completely to the bliss she’s giving you.

“Just let go,” she encourages softly, her voice a seductive whisper that sends shivers down your spine. “I’ve got you.”

With every stroke of her fingers, the heat within you builds, a tide rising and ready to crash. You can feel your body responding instinctively to her rhythm, the tension coiling tighter, urging you toward that edge. The way Jinx’s lips brush against your skin, paired with the gentle rocking of her fingers, pulls you deeper into a dizzying haze of pleasure.

“God, I can’t hold on much longer,” you confess, your breath hitching as the pressure within you swells to a near breaking point.

“Good,” she replies, her tone both teasing and passionate. “I want to feel you come apart for me.” Her fingers quicken their pace slightly, and the sensation sends shockwaves of pleasure rushing through you, igniting every inch of your skin.

You can feel your heart racing, the world around you blurring into a haze as the waves of pleasure build, cresting and crashing within you. You grip the edge of the tub, your nails digging in as you lose yourself in the rhythm of her touch, the warmth of her body against yours, and the sweet sounds of your shared intimacy.

“Jinx, please,” you gasp, feeling the tight coil of tension inside you reaching its peak, ready to snap.

“Just let go, toots,” she murmurs, her voice low and sultry, as if urging you on, a secret promise behind her words. “You’re so close. I can feel it.”

With a final swirl of her thumb and a deep curl of her fingers inside you, the world shatters. Pleasure explodes through you like fireworks, bright and consuming, washing away everything else. You arch against her, gasping as waves of ecstasy pulse through your body, pulling you under in the most beautiful way.

“Jinx!” you cry out, lost in the moment, completely enveloped in her warmth and the intoxicating aftershocks of your release.

Her arms tighten around you, holding you close as you tremble in the aftermath, every sensation magnified. She kisses your shoulder softly, her lips brushing your skin as you ride out the last waves of pleasure, whispering sweet nothings that send flutters through your heart.

“You did so good,” she praises, her voice soft and warm, filled with affection. “I love seeing you like this.”

As the waves of pleasure gradually subside, Jinx gently cradles you in her arms, her touch tender and reassuring. She plants soft kisses along your shoulder, each one a whisper of affection that lingers in the warm, steamy air. “You okay?” she asks, her voice filled with genuine concern, her eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort.

You nod, a soft smile breaking across your face as you lean into her warmth. “More than okay,” you breathe, your heart still racing but now filled with a warmth that spreads through your chest.

Jinx grins, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Good. I’d hate to think I overwhelmed you. Just wanted to make you feel amazing.” She shifts slightly, ensuring you’re both comfortable in the embrace, and the water ripples around you, creating a soothing melody.

“Mission accomplished,” you reply, your voice light and airy as you feel the remnants of bliss still tingling throughout your body.

With a playful glint in her eye, Jinx dips her fingers into the bubbly water, splashing a few bubbles toward you. “Let’s keep this magic going a little longer,” she says, her grin infectious.

You laugh, the sound bubbling up as you splash her back playfully. The moment feels effortless, a carefree exchange that wraps around both of you like the warmth of the water. The intimacy of the earlier moments lingers, but now it’s infused with a cozy lightness that makes your heart soar.

“Come here, you,” Jinx says, pulling you closer, her arms enveloping you as she gently sways you back and forth in the tub. “We should stay like this forever. Just us, no worries, no chaos.”

You lean your head against her collarbone, the softness of her skin grounding you. “I could get used to this,” you admit, relishing the tranquility that fills the air.

Jinx brushes her fingers through your hair, a soothing gesture that sends warmth flooding through you. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go anytime soon.”

As the minutes pass, you both enjoy the quiet intimacy, the steam rising and swirling around you like a protective cocoon. You catch her gaze, the playful spark in her eyes replaced with something softer, deeper. “You really mean that, huh?”

“Absolutely,” she replies, sincerity dripping from her words. “You deserve all the magic, all the moments like this. I’ll always be here to give them to you.”

A comfortable silence settles between you, filled with the rhythm of your breathing and the gentle splashes of water. The weight of the world outside fades, leaving only the two of you wrapped in a tender bubble of connection.

After the warmth of the bath, you find yourself back in Jinx's hideout where you'll be living from now on, the air still thick with the aftermath of shared intimacy. The chaotic charm of the place wraps around you like a comforting blanket, filled with colorful gadgets and strange contraptions that reflect Jinx’s vibrant personality.

As you take in the surroundings, your gaze lands on a glimmering object resting on her workbench. It sparkles under the dim light, hues of deep blue swirling within. Curiosity piqued, you move closer, drawn in by its beauty.

“What’s that?” you ask, pointing to the mesmerizing gemstone.

Jinx’s eyes light up with mischief, a grin spreading across her face. “Oh, that?” she replies, leaning closer to you, her excitement contagious. “That’s a special little thing I borrowed.” She gestures toward it dramatically. “Isn’t it amazing?”

You can’t help but be captivated. “What does it do?”

“Not entirely sure yet,” she admits, biting her lip in that way you find adorable. “But Silco wants me to make something cool with it—an invention or probably a weapon. You know how he is.” There’s a hint of pride in her voice, mixed with that familiar defiance you adore.

“Silco? You mean—”

“Yeah, my dad.” Jinx shrugs nonchalantly, but you can sense the excitement bubbling beneath the surface. “He thinks this gem could be the key to something big, but honestly? I just think it looks awesome.” She leans closer, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. “Who knows what kind of trouble we could get into?”

You chuckle, both thrilled and a bit concerned. “Are you sure it’s safe?”

“Safe?” she scoffs playfully. “Since when has that ever been part of the deal?” She winks, the chaotic energy around her pulling you in. “But that’s what makes it fun! Besides, if it’s dangerous, that just means we’re doing it right!”

As she picks up the gemstone, its light reflects off her features, illuminating her excitement. The feeling of adventure washes over you, mixing with the warmth of your shared moments. You find yourself entranced, eager to see where this wild ride with Jinx will lead next.

Jinx is hunched over her workbench, various parts and pieces strewn across the table as she begins to assemble a rough blueprint. Her focus is intense, brows knit together, eyes fixed on the pieces as she fits them together with methodical precision. It’s fascinating to watch her work, but after a while, the silence and her intense concentration start to make you feel like a bit of an afterthought as you lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling.

You stretch out on the worn couch, tossing a dramatic sigh into the room. “Jinx,” you drawl, glancing over at her with an exaggerated pout, “are you planning to ignore me forever, or just until this thing actually works?”

Jinx doesn’t even flinch, her hands deftly twisting a screw into place as she mumbles, “Just until it’s done, maybe. Unless you keep whining like that. Then I’ll take even longer.”

You roll your eyes, feigning offense. “Wow, am I really that easy to ignore? I might just melt into this couch from sheer neglect.”

She finally glances over her shoulder, smirking. “Not my fault you’re jealous of a couple of bolts and screws.” With a playful raise of her brow, she nods toward her blueprint. “Besides, this isn’t just ‘a thing.’ This is gonna be epic. A beast of a… a… Fishbones!”

You raise an eyebrow at her. “Fishbones?”

She shrugs, looking unbothered. “Yeah! You know, it’s got… bite! ‘Course, I’ll need to get it there first.” She turns back to her work, tapping her fingers thoughtfully on the table.

You huff again, shifting restlessly. “Maybe it’s me that needs your attention, ever thought of that?”

Jinx quirks an eyebrow, but her hands don’t leave her work as she replies with a low chuckle. “Oh, I’ve thought about it. Trust me. But some of us have to focus to make something cool happen.”

You cross your arms, sinking deeper into the couch with an exaggerated huff. “So I’m supposed to sit here and be second place to a metal skeleton?”

She sighs, pausing her work long enough to glance over with a faint grin tugging at her lips. “If it’s any consolation, you’re definitely my favorite person who’s ever interrupted my work.”

You let out a snort, rolling your eyes. “Not good enough.”

A flicker of amusement crosses her face as she gestures you over with a tilt of her head and pats her thighs. “Alright, fine. Come here, you little distraction.”

You don’t need more of an invitation, slipping off the couch and sliding onto her lap, making yourself comfortable as her arms instinctively wrap around you, a mix of exasperation and fondness in her gaze.

She rolls her eyes but can’t hold back a small smirk. “I swear, you’re more high-maintenance than Fishbones is gonna be.”

You lean into her, pressing your forehead against hers with a soft smile. “Maybe I just like being a little bit of trouble.”

Jinx huffs a laugh, her fingers lightly tracing patterns along your back. “Guess I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

Jinx’s focus starts to shift as you nestle against her, the warmth of her body grounding you. The metal parts on the table glimmer under the dim light, but you’re no longer interested in them. Instead, you can feel the steady rhythm of her heartbeat beneath your fingertips, and it’s surprisingly soothing.

“See?” she says, a teasing lilt in her voice. “You just needed to remind me how amazing I am at multitasking. I can build my epic invention and cuddle with you at the same time.”

You chuckle, enjoying the playful banter. “Oh, really? Because it looks more like I’m doing all the work here.”

Jinx rolls her eyes, but there’s a spark of mischief in her gaze. “Yeah, sure. You're the one doing all the hard work of lounging around and stealing my warmth. It’s exhausting.”

“Exactly! This is a very demanding job,” you reply dramatically, sinking further into her embrace. “Someone has to make sure you stay motivated.”

“By distracting me?” She scoffs, but the smirk on her lips tells you she’s not really annoyed. “How am I supposed to focus on my masterpiece when you’re this close?”

You shift slightly, nestling into her a bit more. “Maybe I’m your real masterpiece. You know, the ultimate work of art.”

Jinx snorts, shaking her head. “You’re gonna have to do better than that to get a compliment out of me. I mean, just look at you compared to this genius invention.” She gestures to her workspace, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

You chuckle again, finally relenting as you settle into a more comfortable position on her lap. “Fine, I’ll let you have your moment. Just promise you won’t forget about me entirely, okay?”

She pretends to ponder your request for a moment, biting her lip to suppress a grin. “Mmm… I’ll think about it. But no promises!”

You let out a mock gasp, clutching your chest. “How could you do this to me?”

Jinx laughs, shaking her head in delight. “Oh, I can think of a million ways. But right now, I need to focus, remember?”

“Right, right. But only after you give me at least one kiss for luck.” You raise an eyebrow, your playful tone inviting her to indulge you.

She pauses her work, glancing at you with mock seriousness. “You know what? That’s a fair trade.” Then, with a grin that makes your heart race, she leans in, pressing her lips softly against yours.

The kiss is sweet and fleeting, leaving you both smiling as she pulls back. “See? Now you can’t complain about being neglected. You have your kiss of luck, and I’m back to being a genius.”

With a mock sigh of defeat, you settle back into her embrace, ready to enjoy your time together while she dives back into her work.

Little did you know how that weapon was going to change your entire life.

The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the makeshift hideout. Jinx sprawled out on the floor, her legs kicked up on a crate, while you leaned against the wall, watching her as she fiddled with an array of gadgets. The atmosphere was light, punctuated by her occasional bursts of laughter as she told you wild stories of her adventures.

“...and then I rigged the whole thing to blow just as they walked in! You should have seen their faces!” Jinx giggled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. You couldn’t help but chuckle along, captivated by her enthusiasm.

But as the stories flowed, you caught a glimpse of something flickering behind her playful demeanor. It was subtle, like a shadow passing over her expression—a hint of darkness that seemed to creep in whenever she mentioned Piltover or the Enforcers. You tried to brush it off, but it lingered, a gnawing feeling in your gut.

“Jinx, do you ever think about how far we’ve come?” you asked, trying to steer the conversation toward a lighter path. “I mean, look at us! We’re like a chaotic dream team.”

She smirked, the glimmer in her eyes returning. “Yeah, but I’ve got plans, toots. Big plans! And they can’t even begin to imagine what I’m capable of.”

Her tone held a slight edge, something almost predatory that sent a shiver down your spine. You met her gaze, searching for the playful girl you knew. “What do you mean by that?”

“Just… you know. Letting off some steam. A little chaos never hurt anyone, right?” Her grin widened, but you noticed her fingers twitching slightly, as if itching for something more than just a harmless prank.

You felt a tension settle between you, the line between lightheartedness and something darker becoming increasingly blurred. “I guess not,” you replied cautiously, hoping to lighten the mood. “Just don’t forget about us, okay?”

“Forget about us?” She chuckled, but there was a fierceness behind her laughter. “Never. I’m all in, you know that.”

Yet, the undercurrent in her words echoed like a warning, one that left you with an uneasy feeling as you watched her dive back into her work, the fleeting shadow of something dangerous still lingering in the air.

In an attempt to break through the heaviness, you slid down onto the floor beside her, resting your head against her shoulder. “You know,” you began softly, “no matter what plans you have, I’m always here to be your partner in crime. Just… remember to squeeze in some fun, okay?”

Jinx paused, her fingers hovering above the scattered parts, and glanced at you, her eyes sparkling with warmth. She nudged you playfully with her shoulder, a grin spreading across her face. “You’re right. I could definitely use some fun—especially with my favorite troublemaker right here.”

With a sudden burst of energy, she threw her arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. You melted into her, feeling the softness of her shirt against your cheek and the comforting warmth of her body enveloping you. The world outside faded for a moment, replaced by the familiar scent of her hair and the sound of her laughter vibrating through you.

“See? This is what I’m talking about! Chaos and cuddles all in one,” she declared, her voice muffled as she buried her face into your hair, the softness of her laughter wrapping around you like a cozy blanket.

You chuckled, feeling the weight of her presence soothe your worries. “I’m definitely up for more cuddles and a little less chaos… at least for tonight.”

She pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, her eyes twinkling with mischief and affection. “Alright, but if I get inspired and feel that chaotic urge creeping in, you have to promise to join me. Deal?”

“Deal,” you replied, grinning back at her. You took a moment to soak in the sight of her—messy hair, smudged cheeks, and that radiant smile that seemed to brighten the dim room. “But first, can we just enjoy this for a bit? You know, the cuddles part?”

Her laughter danced in the air as she leaned closer, resting her forehead against yours. “Yeah, I could get used to this. Just you and me, causing havoc in our own little world.”

You smiled, feeling a lightness bloom in your chest. “Exactly. Just us. No missions, no plans—just moments like this.”

Jinx’s expression softened, her eyes glimmering with warmth. “You make it sound so simple, but it feels perfect.” She brushed her fingers lightly along your arm, and in that quiet moment, everything felt right.

“Perfect, huh?” you teased gently, nudging her playfully. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Of course it is!” she replied, her grin widening. “Now, let’s make some memories before I go back to plotting world domination, or whatever it is I do.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you agreed, feeling the joy and comfort radiating between you. The flickers of darkness that had lingered earlier were pushed aside, replaced by laughter, warmth, and the promise of more adventures together—one chaotic moment at a time.

The flickering light from the workbench casts dancing shadows on the walls as Jinx is lost in her world of gears and blueprints. You watch her from the couch, your mind swirling with thoughts about the recent conversations you've had. She’s been obsessed with Fishbones lately, her excitement palpable, but there’s something darker brewing beneath that enthusiasm.

“Jinx,” you begin softly, pulling your knees to your chest, trying to gauge her mood. “Have you thought about what you’re actually planning to do with Fishbones?”

Her fingers pause, and she glances up, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “What do you mean? It’s going to be the ultimate weapon!” She grins, clearly not understanding the weight behind your words.

You swallow, trying to choose your next words carefully. “I get that it’s going to be amazing, but… what if it’s used against people? It’s not just a toy, Jinx. We’re talking about real destruction.”

She shrugs, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “Hey, it’s not like I’m going to blow up the whole city! Just… the bad parts. You know, the ones that think they’re all mighty when, in reality, they’re just a bunch of spineless council puppets hiding behind their rules.

“Still,” you press, shifting slightly to show your concern. “There’s a line between defending ourselves and becoming the very thing we’re fighting against. It’s a slippery slope.”

Jinx rolls her eyes playfully, but there’s a flicker of seriousness in her gaze. “Come on, you worry too much. I promise it’s just for show. Mostly.”

“Mostly?” you echo, arching an eyebrow. “What does that even mean?”

“Just think about it!” she exclaims, waving her hands animatedly. “I can’t make something that cool and not use it! I just want to show Piltover they can’t keep stomping all over us and acting like I’m some rabid dog they can lock up.. Is that so wrong?”

You watch as Jinx rummages through her supplies, her energy infectious, but a knot of concern still tightens in your chest. “Jinx, this isn’t just about fun and games. What if something goes wrong? What if someone gets hurt?”

She freezes for a moment, her hand stilling on a gadget. “You really don’t get it, do you? This is how we make a statement! We can’t just sit around waiting for them to decide our fate.”

“Making a statement doesn’t have to mean risking lives!” you counter, frustration creeping into your voice. “There’s a difference between standing up for ourselves and throwing caution to the wind!”

Jinx narrows her eyes, the playful spark dimming again. “You think I want to hurt people? I want to show them we’re not afraid. They think they can just crush us under their boot, and I won’t let that happen!”

“And I’m not saying you should!” you reply, your voice rising slightly. “But you’re talking about using a weapon, Jinx. This is serious! What if it backfires?”

“Backfires?!” she exclaims, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “You think I’m some clueless kid who doesn’t know what she’s doing? I’ve been planning this for weeks!”

“It’s not about being clueless! It’s about thinking things through!” you shoot back, feeling your pulse quicken. “I’m not trying to undermine you; I just don’t want to see you go down a path that could end up destroying everything we’ve fought for.”

Her expression hardens, and for a moment, it feels like there’s an invisible wall between you. “You’re acting like I’m some kind of villain! I’m not out here to hurt just anyone—only the ones who damn well deserve it!”

“And how do you decide who deserves it?!” you demand, frustration boiling over. “What if you cross a line you can’t come back from? I can’t support that!”

She glares at you, the air thick with tension. “So what? You expect me to just sit here and let them grind us into the dirt? That’s not how this works!”

“I want you to think before you act!” you say, your heart racing. “You’re smarter than this, Jinx. You can fight back without becoming the very thing you despise.”

For a moment, silence hangs heavy between you, both of you breathing heavily. Jinx's eyes flash with a mixture of defiance and hurt. “I can’t believe you’re saying this. You of all people should understand what it’s like to be pushed to the edge!”

“I do understand!” you shoot back, feeling the weight of your words. “That’s exactly why I’m worried! I don’t want to see you lose yourself in all of this.”

Jinx’s shoulders slump slightly, the fight draining from her. “You really think I’m going to lose myself?”

“I’m afraid of it,” you admit, your voice softening. “I don’t want to watch you become someone who’s consumed by anger and revenge.”

Her gaze softens for a moment, and she takes a step closer, her voice quieter. “I thought you were in this with me, that you’d back me up no matter what.”

“I am in this with you,” you say, sincerity flooding your words. “But backing you up doesn’t mean I have to agree with everything you do. I care about you too much to just stand by and watch you make choices that could hurt you—or others.”

For a long moment, she studies your face, the tension shifting into something more complex. “You really are a buzzkill,” she mutters, but there’s a hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

“Maybe I just want to keep you grounded,” you reply, matching her grin with one of your own. “And maybe I want you to remember who you are, deep down.”

Jinx rolls her eyes, but you can see the flicker of affection in her expression. “Fine. I’ll try to keep the chaos in check… a little.”

“That’s all I’m asking for,” you say, relief washing over you. “Let’s find a balance between your plans and making sure we’re not losing sight of what really matters.”

“Okay, okay!” she exclaims, throwing her hands up in mock surrender. “You win this round. But just know, when I do unleash some glorious chaos, you’ll be right there beside me!”

“Deal,” you agree, feeling the heaviness of the argument lift as you share a warm smile.

Yet beneath it all, you sensed this was only the start of something bigger.

The following evening, the atmosphere in the hideout feels charged, the air thick with a tension that’s hard to ignore. You find yourself perched on the edge of a rickety chair, watching Jinx as she sits cross-legged on the floor, her array of gadgets and blueprints sprawled around her. She’s been unusually quiet, and instead of her usual playful banter, she’s focused intently on her sketches.

As you peer over, you catch sight of her doodling the intricate designs of Piltover’s council buildings, her pencil moving rapidly across the paper. The lines are sharp, almost aggressive, and a chill runs down your spine as you realize that the detailed buildings aren’t just architectural sketches; they look like targets.

“Jinx?” you venture cautiously, shifting in your seat. “What are you working on?”

Her head snaps up, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes, but there’s something darker lurking beneath the surface. “Just some ideas,” she replies casually, though her tone doesn’t match the intensity of her gaze.

You lean forward, trying to decipher her mood. “Ideas for what? It looks… different from your usual stuff.”

“It’s nothing,” she brushes off, a teasing smile tugging at her lips as she flips the page. “Just thinking of ways Fishbones could take on those pesky enforcers, Silco’s request.”

Your stomach knots at her words, the playful edge to her voice sending alarm bells ringing in your mind. “Jinx, you’re not serious, right? You can’t actually be thinking about attacking them.”

She rolls her eyes, the sparkle in her expression dimming slightly. “It’s just brainstorming! Nothing wrong with a little strategy, toots.” But there’s a glint in her eyes—a thrill that unnerves you.

“Strategy?” you repeat, your heart racing. “This doesn’t sound like the fun chaos you usually talk about. This sounds… dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” she echoes, laughing lightly. “Come on, it’s not like I’m drawing up a full-on battle plan! I just like to imagine how I could make a statement, that’s all.”

“But what kind of statement?” you push, feeling a mix of concern and frustration. “You’re talking about real lives here, Jinx. This isn’t just a game!”

Her expression shifts, and you can see the flickers of intensity rising in her gaze. “Maybe it should be taken seriously! They’ve taken everything from us, and I’m just thinking about how to fight back.”

It almost felt as if Silco was talking through her, but there isn't time to think about that. You take a breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “I get that, but you can’t just focus on destruction. There has to be another way.”

“Another way?” she snaps, her voice rising slightly. “You mean the way they want us to? Just keep our heads down and hope for the best? That’s not going to change anything!”

You watch as her enthusiasm begins to morph into something darker, a dangerous thrill radiating off her. It’s unsettling, and despite your attempts to reach her, the intensity in her demeanor only grows stronger. “I’m not saying you should just give up, but there’s got to be a line we don’t cross.”

“Why not?” she challenges, her eyes narrowing. “If they won’t stop until they wipe us out, why should I hold back? Maybe it’s time they learned what happens when they mess with the wrong people!, show them what happened when they mess with me”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut. The excitement in her voice sends shivers down your spine. “Jinx, please. You’re scaring me. This isn’t who you are.”

For a moment, her expression falters, and you catch a glimpse of the playful girl you fell in love with. “I… I’m just trying to protect us,” she says, her voice softer now, but there’s still an edge to it.

You reach out, placing your hand over hers, grounding her in that moment. “I know you are, but you don’t have to do it this way. You can be a hero without becoming a monster.”

Jinx stares at you, the conflict in her eyes palpable. “I don’t want to be a monster,” she murmurs, almost to herself. “But what if they make me one?”

You can feel the heaviness in the air, the weight of her thoughts pressing down on you both. “Then we fight together, but we fight smart, not reckless.”

After a beat, she lets out a frustrated sigh, pulling her hand away to scribble on her sketch again, though the energy has shifted. “You’re right,” she finally admits, her voice tight. “I just… get so carried away sometimes. I want to show them I'm not afraid.”

“You’re not alone in this, Jinx,” you reassure her gently. “You don’t have to carry that weight by yourself. Just promise me you’ll think about the consequences of your plans, okay?”

“Fine,” she replies, her voice laced with a reluctant acceptance. “But don’t expect me to stop dreaming up chaos. It’s who I am.”

“And I wouldn’t want you to change that,” you smile softly, grateful for the return of some lightness. “Just let’s keep the chaos fun, alright?”

Jinx smirks, a hint of her usual mischief returning. “You got it, partner. Chaos and cuddles only!”

As she leans into you, the earlier tension begins to fade, but you can’t shake the feeling that the flickers of darkness are still there, waiting just beneath the surface.

A few days later, the hideout buzzes with a different energy. Jinx is on a roll, her excitement palpable as she paces the small space, tossing ideas around like confetti. She’s practically glowing with enthusiasm, but you can’t shake the lingering unease that’s taken root in your heart.

“Okay, okay, hear me out!” she exclaims, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “What if we set off a few booms in Piltover, just to remind them I’m still here? Nothing too crazy, just a little fun to keep them on their toes!”

You frown, feeling the tension tightening in your chest. “Jinx, are you serious right now? You can’t just go blowing things up. That’s not fun; that’s reckless!”

She brushes off your concerns with a wave of her hand, spinning around to face you. “Oh come on! It’s not like I’m asking to destroy the whole place. Just a little chaos, just to show them we mean business!”

“Chaos isn’t just harmless fun, Jinx!” you challenge, your voice rising slightly. “You know what happens when you start throwing around explosives. People could get hurt—innocent people!”

Her expression shifts, the mischief fading as she crosses her arms defensively. “Innocent people? Like the council members who don’t give a shit about us? They’re the ones holding all the power!”

“Exactly! And you think blowing things up is going to change that?” You stand your ground, feeling the heat of the moment. “You’re not some vigilante. You can’t take justice into your own hands like this!”

Jinx’s eyes flash with frustration, her playful demeanor crumbling under the weight of your words. “What do you want me to do, huh? Just sit back and let them walk all over us? Pretend everything is fine while they scheme against us?”

“It’s not about pretending! It’s about finding a way to fight back without becoming a monster yourself!” The words spill out before you can stop them, the frustration boiling over. “You’re better than this, Jinx!”

Her gaze hardens, the air growing thick with tension. “Better than what? Better than standing up for myself? You don’t get it!” she snaps, her voice tinged with an edge you’ve never heard before. “You’re so wrapped up in your little ideas of right and wrong that you can’t see what’s at stake!”

“Maybe it’s you who’s not seeing clearly,” you retort, your heart racing. “This isn’t just a game. This is our lives! It’s our future!”

Jinx narrows her eyes, a flicker of hurt flashing across her face. “Our future? You’re the one who’s worried about consequences while I’m trying to make something happen! I don’t want to sit and wait for change. I want to make it!”

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of her words hang in the air. “I want change too, but not at the cost of losing who you are. You can’t let this ambition turn you into someone you don’t want to be.”

She scoffs, her anger simmering just below the surface. “So what am I supposed to do? Just sit back and watch them destroy everything down here? That’s your plan?”

“No!” you exclaim, frustration giving way to desperation. “But there has to be a balance! You can’t let your passion for chaos blind you to the consequences. You have to think about how this affects us, Jinx!”

For a moment, silence stretches between you, the weight of the argument settling heavily in the air. Jinx’s gaze drops, the fire in her eyes dimming as the reality of your words sinks in. “You don’t trust me,” she murmurs, a hint of vulnerability creeping into her voice.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” you reply softly, stepping closer, searching her gaze for understanding. “It’s that I’m scared of what this obsession with taking down Piltover is doing to you. You’re losing sight of what matters.”

She shakes her head, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “You just don’t get it! I need to show them that we’re not afraid! I can’t just sit around and wait for someone else to make a change!”

“Jinx…” you start, but the words die in your throat. The intensity of her ambition is overwhelming, and for the first time, you feel the crack in your relationship growing wider.

Her expression hardens, a wall going up as she turns away. “I can’t believe you don’t see what I’m trying to do. You’re supposed to be my partner in this, not my conscience.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be a part of this if it means losing you to the darkness,” you admit, your voice trembling slightly.

The silence that follows is deafening, the weight of your words hanging in the air. Jinx’s back remains turned, and for the first time, you wonder if this rift between you might be deeper than you realized.

But what matters to you is that somehow you and Jinx managed to patch things up, like a small band-aid covering every crack in your relationship. The problem is that band-aids eventually wear off.

The hideout buzzed with energy as Jinx animatedly shared stories from the day’s escapades, laughter spilling from her lips like a melody. You leaned against the wall, heart swelling with affection, but a nagging worry settled in your gut.

Lately, Jinx had been spending more time with Silco, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was weaving himself into her thoughts. She’d come back with strange ideas and reckless plans, discussing ways to “take down Piltover” as if it were a casual evening chat.

“Jinx,” you called out, catching her attention as she fiddled with the blueprints scattered across the table. “Can we talk for a second?”

She paused, tilting her head with a playful smirk. “What’s up, toots? Are you finally going to help me with Fishbones?”

You took a breath, trying to keep your tone light, but the concern in your chest pushed through. “It’s not about Fishbones. It’s about Silco. I’m worried he’s getting in your head.”

“Come on! Silco just knows how to think big!” she laughed, brushing off your concern with a wave of her hand. “He gets it. He’s not like the others.”

“But that’s just it,” you pressed, stepping closer. “You trust him too much. He has his own agenda. I don’t want you to lose sight of what we stand for.”

Jinx rolled her eyes, her playful demeanor faltering for a moment. “I’m not losing anything! He’s just… giving me a broader perspective.”

“Jinx, this isn’t just about having a bigger picture. He’s been pushing you toward this dangerous edge,” you insisted, your heart racing. “And you keep talking about taking action. What does that even mean?”

She crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing as the fire within her flared back to life. “You really think I’m going to sit back and let Piltover trample us like we’re nothing? That’s not who I am—I refuse to be their victim!

“I know who you are, and that’s why this scares me!” you replied, voice rising with frustration. “I love your wild spirit, but don’t let Silco twist it into something it’s not!”

The air thickened with tension as she stared at you, a mixture of anger and uncertainty flashing across her face. “So you want me to just ignore everything he says? Pretend like it’s not happening?”

“Not ignore it, but think critically about it! We can find our own way without becoming pawns in someone else’s game!”

Jinx’s expression hardened, the playful glint gone from her eyes. “Maybe you’re the one who doesn’t see the bigger picture. Sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to protect what you care about.”

You felt a surge of hurt at her words, sensing the growing divide. “But at what cost, Jinx? I don’t want to lose you to this chaos.”

A flicker of doubt crossed her face, but she quickly masked it with defiance. “I’ll figure it out. I always do.”

“Jinx—” you began, but she cut you off, frustration evident. “Just drop it! I don’t need you to protect me!”

As she turned away, retreating out of the hideout, you were left standing there, the weight of your argument settling heavily in your chest. Silco’s influence felt like a shadow stretching between you, and the distance that grew felt more like a chasm.

The silence that followed was deafening, each heartbeat echoing the uncertainty that had taken root in your chest. You were losing her to the chaos that surrounded you both, and for the first time, doubt gnawed at the edges of your heart.

Hours slipped by in a haze of worry, the dim light of the hideout casting shadows that seemed to press in closer. You found yourself retreating to a quiet corner, desperately trying to grasp onto the love you felt, the memories that had once felt so untouchable. But each one now felt laced with the tension that Silco had brought between you.

Eventually, the door creaked open, and there she was, lingering in the threshold. Her blue eyes were intense, a hint of that same defiance still sparking, but her posture softened, uncertain as she scanned the room and found you. She looked like she had a thousand things to say yet no words for any of them.

“Jinx…” you whispered, the name feeling heavy on your lips.

She hesitated, chewing her lip before stepping closer, crossing the small space between you two with measured steps. “You… you didn’t have to wait around,” she muttered, her tone caught somewhere between vulnerability and pride.

“I wasn’t going to leave,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “Not after that.”

A silence settled over you, and for a moment, you both just stood there, caught in the weight of the unsaid things, the worry and love that seemed to intertwine, complicated and unbreakable. She shifted her weight, her gaze finally dropping as if the confidence that had fueled her argument earlier was slowly peeling away.

“You really think I’m letting him control me?” she asked softly, the vulnerability in her voice threading through the tension.

You nodded slowly. “I think he’s changing the way you see things. And that scares me, Jinx.”

She glanced back at the doorway, the shadows of the hideout looming behind her, then back at you, her eyes wavering. “I… don’t want to be used. I just thought maybe, for once, I could… matter. Make a difference. Make him proud of me”

“You matter,” you said gently, stepping closer, feeling that familiar pull between you both. “You always have. But we can find a way without him. If he really loved you he would be proud of you no matter what. ”

Jinx’s shoulders slumped, and for the first time, she looked tired. “Maybe you’re right,” she murmured. Then, reaching for your hand, she gave it a small squeeze, grounding herself in the warmth of your touch. “Guess I’m not always the mastermind, huh?”

A faint smile tugged at your lips. “You’re still my Jinx.”

For the first time in hours, her expression softened, and she leaned into you, just enough to let the weight of her defenses fall away. And for now, it was enough.

As Jinx’s hand slipped into yours, grounding herself, you couldn’t hold it back any longer. The strain, the arguments, the growing fear of losing her—it all poured out at once. A tear slipped down your cheek, followed by another, and before you could turn away, Jinx was already pulling you into her arms.

You buried your face into her shoulder, clutching her tightly, the familiar scent of gunpowder and oil oddly comforting. She held you firmly, letting you release everything you’d held back. Her hands moved to your back, tracing small, soothing circles, each gesture wordlessly saying, I’m here.

After a moment, Jinx pulled back, her gaze softening as she took in the tear-streaked expression on your face. She reached up, her fingers delicate as she cupped your cheeks, brushing her thumbs against your damp skin. “Hey, don’t cry, toots,” she whispered, voice gentle, holding you like you were something precious.

Then, with a tenderness that took your breath away, she leaned in, her lips pressing soft kisses over each tear, one by one. Each touch was light, warm, melting the tension that had built up in your chest. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” she murmured between kisses. “I’m still here, still me.”

You let out a shaky breath, a flicker of relief breaking through the worry. “I just… I don’t want to lose you, Jinx. Not to anyone. Not to Silco.”

Jinx paused, her face inches from yours, her gaze serious. “You’re not gonna lose me,” she said softly, her hands never leaving your face. “Whatever happens, we’re in this together.”

She held your gaze, her eyes fierce but softened by something raw and real. And in that moment, words weren’t needed. You knew, as long as you had each other, nothing else mattered.

As the days pressed on and Fishbones neared completion, you could feel the shift in Jinx’s energy, like a storm gathering on the horizon. She’d retreat into her projects for hours, emerging only to scribble some hastily thought-up addition or tweak in her blueprints. It was clear she was consumed, her mind caught in an unwavering current that seemed to pull her further from you.

One evening, as you stepped into her makeshift workshop, you found her crouched over Fishbones, tightening bolts with fierce precision. Tools lay scattered around her, and the look in her eyes was one of singular, intense focus. She didn’t even glance up when you came in.

“Jinx,” you started gently, taking a step forward. “Do you have a minute? I thought maybe we could talk… about Fishbones.”

At the sound of your voice, she tensed, setting the wrench down with a metallic clang. “Why do we have to keep talking about this?” she muttered, her eyes narrowed, the walls around her clearly rising higher. “It’s fine. Fishbones is perfect the way it is.”

“I know you put so much work into it, and it’s incredible, Jinx,” you replied carefully, feeling the words stick in your throat. “But some of these additions—do they have to be so… aggressive? I’m just worried.”

She let out a frustrated sigh, finally standing up to face you. “Why are you so worried all the time? It’s like you’re trying to put a leash on me, on Fishbones, on everything.”

“It’s not that,” you said, trying to hold your ground. “I just don’t want you or anyone else getting hurt because of all this. We can use Fishbones in a way that keeps you safe.”

Her eyes hardened, a stubborn glint sparking. “I’m not some little kid you need to protect, alright? I don’t need anyone telling me how to be me. And Fishbones? It’s gonna be exactly what I want it to be, no matter what.”

She turned back to her work, closing you out as she resumed tightening the last pieces. Each crank of the wrench echoed in the silent room, like the final snaps of a door shutting between you.

You planned the day carefully, choosing a quiet corner of the city where the hum of Zaun’s chaos softened. A hidden rooftop with a view overlooking the rusted skyline, a place far removed from blueprints, weapons, or talk of revenge. You laid out a simple picnic, filled with a few of Jinx's favorite things—sour candies, fizzy drinks, and a few pastries you’d found in Piltover.

When you finally coaxed her out, she looked wary, as though expecting some kind of trap. But the sight of you grinning, sprawled out on a soft blanket in the sun-dappled light, seemed to chip away at her guard. She dropped onto the blanket beside you, a smirk tugging at her lips as she popped a candy into her mouth. standing herself with her elbows

“What’s all this?” she asked, looking almost amused.

“Just us,” you replied with a shrug. “Thought we could take a break, maybe slow things down a little. You’ve been working so hard, Jinx.”

“Didn’t know I’d earned myself a picnic,” she teased, though the way her gaze lingered on you gave away her appreciation. “You’re getting soft, toots.”

You grinned, nudging her shoulder. “Maybe I’m just smart enough to know when you need a break.” You handed her a fizzy drink, watching her expression light up as she took a sip, savoring the tart bubbles. She leaned back further, letting her eyes drift closed, soaking up the rare, quiet moment.

Jinx let out a soft sigh as she straightened up, now sitting, settling against you, her head resting on your shoulder as she relaxed into the calm, almost surreal peace of the rooftop. She popped another candy into her mouth, savoring the sour burst as she looked up at you, her eyes glinting with a familiar mischief softened by something gentler.

“This is too nice,” she murmured, leaning closer, her voice dropping to a playful whisper. “Feels like I should be suspicious.”

You chuckled, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “Guess you’ll have to let me surprise you for once.”

Jinx’s grin widened, and she let herself melt against you, her fingers tracing light patterns over your hand. “Fine, but only because you bribed me with candy.” She nudged her shoulder into yours, glancing up at you, eyes shimmering with an affectionate warmth that was rare to catch.

As you sat there, the sky around you dimming into softer shades, you could feel her focus shift entirely to you. She moved closer, the playful spark in her gaze softening as her fingers intertwined with yours. You gently cupped her cheek, feeling her lean into your touch, her expression caught between a smile and something deeper.

“I mean it, Jinx,” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the quiet rooftop air. “You deserve these moments, too.”

She looked at you for a long moment, her defenses slipping in the silence as if she couldn’t quite believe you were real. Then, without a word, she leaned up, her lips brushing against yours in a kiss that felt like everything she couldn’t say out loud. Her hand slid up to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing softly against your skin as she deepened the kiss, her touch warm and grounding.

The world around you melted away as you lost yourself in the kiss, feeling her relax and trust you in a way she rarely allowed herself to. Her fingers played at the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine as her lips moved softly, passionately against yours, your own hands tangled in her beautiful blue hair. She pulled you closer, her energy warm, electric, and overflowing with a genuine care that was unmistakably hers.

When she finally pulled back, her cheeks were flushed, and her usual smirk softened into a smile that was only for you. She let out a small laugh, brushing her thumb over your cheek. “You’ve got a way of making everything else disappear, you know that?”

“Good,” you murmured, leaning your forehead against hers. “Because right now, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Jinx’s fingers laced through yours as you both sat there, tangled together under the dimming Zaun skyline, her laughter and the softness in her gaze anchoring you to the moment. It felt like, here on this rooftop, you’d found a sliver of peace—just the two of you, leaving the rest of the world far behind.

But then, somewhere below, the soft clink of metal against metal disrupted the quiet. You almost ignored it, brushing it off as the usual hum of the city, but then came a sharper clang and the distant rumble of machinery. Jinx’s grip on your hand tightened, her body tensing as her gaze drifted to the edge of the rooftop, where shadows stirred.

The playfulness in her expression wavered, giving way to something sharper, more focused. The laughter that had danced between you moments before seemed to fade, slipping away like a half-forgotten melody as reality crept back in, filling the space with a new, charged silence. You could see her eyes narrow, a flicker of determination setting in, as if the peace you’d found had only been borrowed and the world below was here to collect its due.

“Jinx?” you started, sensing her shift, the warmth retreating from her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

She sat up straight, her expression hardening as she focused on the chaos below. “It’s just… Piltover doesn’t stop, does it?” she said, her voice low, edged with frustration. “They think they can walk all over us, and I refuse to let them think they can get away with it!”

You followed her gaze, feeling a pang in your chest as you understood what was happening. The reminders of Piltover’s oppression—the flashing lights, the sounds of machinery, the chaos—were all too familiar and raw.

“Jinx, let’s not—” you began, but she cut you off, her words coming out sharper now, tinged with an intensity that sent a shiver through you.

“I can’t just sit here and pretend everything is fine!” she snapped, eyes blazing with a fierce resolve. “They’ve pushed us around for too long. I want them to see me—not as a joke, but as someone who can make a difference!”

The shift in her demeanor was like watching a switch flip. The softness you had nurtured moments ago was swallowed by the encroaching shadows of her ambition. You reached out, trying to anchor her back to the moment, to the laughter you had shared.

“Jinx, please, listen to me,” you urged, your heart racing as you grasped her hand, desperate to pull her back. “You don’t have to take this on alone. We can find a way to fight back together, without losing yourself”

But she shook her head, pulling her hand away as frustration bubbled up inside her. “You don’t understand! This isn’t just about revenge; it’s about proving I’m not weak. I want them to know I’m capable of more than they think. I can’t just be the girl who causes chaos—I have to be more!”

The passion in her voice, while powerful, filled you with dread. You could see the danger in her determination, the risk of losing the very essence of who she was to the chaos she was ready to embrace.

“Jinx, don’t you see? You’re more than just a weapon or a tool for revenge. You’re so much more!” You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “We need to find a way that doesn’t involve becoming what they expect us to be. You’re not just Jinx, the girl who causes chaos. You’re the one I love—the one who brings joy and laughter, even in the darkest times.”

She faltered for a moment, the fire in her eyes flickering as your words pierced through the haze of ambition. But it was only for a heartbeat before the shadows returned, darker and more insistent than before.

“I can’t just forget what they’ve done. I need to prove that I’m strong enough to stand up for myself and for Zaun!” she declared, her voice rising as her frustrations poured out.

The moment felt heavy, a chasm widening between you. You had tried to pull her back into the light, but the darkness she was drawn to was too strong, too seductive. It made you feel helpless, watching the person you loved wrestle with a turmoil you couldn't quite reach.

In that moment, you realized that while you could share laughter and joy, the echoes of Piltover’s cruelty were louder than any picnic or soft words. You both needed to find a way through this, but the path was obscured by her anger and the shadows of her ambition.

As silence enveloped the rooftop, you could feel the distance grow, the lingering warmth of the earlier connection now just a faint memory.

The silence hung between you like a storm cloud, heavy and charged. You could feel the tension crackling in the air, and it felt as if the very rooftop was bracing for impact. Jinx’s eyes sparkled with determination, but beneath that, a flicker of uncertainty danced—a contradiction you hoped to expose.

“Jinx, I get it,” you said, voice rising slightly as frustration seeped in. “But this isn’t the way! If you keep pushing for revenge, you’re just playing into their hands. You’ll become exactly what they expect—a chaotic force, a weapon they can use!”

Her laugh was cold and bitter, slicing through the tension like a knife. “What do you know about what they expect? You live in your cozy little world while I fight tooth and nail every single day! You think this is a game?”

“It’s not a game, and I’m not ignoring what you’re going through!” you shot back, heart racing as emotions surged. “But sacrificing yourself to become a pawn in Silco’s plans isn’t the answer! You’ll lose everything that makes you, you!”

Jinx’s eyes blazed, fury igniting as she rose to her feet, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. “You don’t understand! I’ve spent my whole life being underestimated, being called a joke, a jinx. I have to show them I’m not just some crazy girl with a few tricks up her sleeve. I’m more than that! I have to make them fear me!”

“Fear isn’t strength, Jinx! It’s weakness!” The words slipped out before you could catch them, the urgency driving you to raise your voice. “You want respect, not fear! You want to be seen for who you really are, not just a weapon in someone else’s game. Can’t you see that?”

Jinx spun around, her hands balled into fists at her sides. “And how do you propose I do that? Just sit back and wait for them to see me? You think that will change anything? They won’t respect me unless I show them what I’m capable of!”

The heat of the moment intensified, and you stepped closer, desperate to bridge the chasm forming between you. “You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone but yourself! The people who truly care about you will see your worth without the chaos! Why can’t you trust that?”

“You’re not just a weapon. You’re brilliant, you’re creative, and you have so much potential! But this obsession with proving yourself is clouding your judgment!” you urged, pleading with her to see reason

“Why can’t you just support me?” she yelled, eyes blazing. “Why can’t you see that I’m doing this for us, for Zaun? If I don’t take action, then what’s the point? I refuse to be a victim!”

“You think I want you to be a victim?” you shouted back, exasperated. “I want you to be safe! I want you to be happy! But you’re running headfirst into danger, and it’s tearing us apart!”

“Maybe you should have thought of that before you decided to pull me away from my goals!” she snapped, her frustration boiling over. “You don’t get to dictate what I can or can’t do! I’m not your little project to fix!”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You felt a mix of hurt and anger swell within you, but you fought to keep your composure. “I’m not trying to fix you, Jinx. I just want you to realize that you don’t have to do this alone! We’re a team, remember?”

“Yeah, well, maybe I don’t want to be a part of your little team anymore!” she spat, her voice rising with each word. “I don’t need you holding me back!”

In that moment, the air between you crackled with tension, your emotions swirling into a whirlwind of hurt and desperation. Jinx stood before you, a whirlwind of defiance and ambition, and yet beneath it all, you could sense the fear of losing herself to the chaos she felt compelled to embrace.

“Jinx, please!” you shouted, your voice breaking with the weight of your plea. “I don’t want to lose you! You’re so much more than this rage and chaos.”

For a fleeting moment, the fire in her eyes wavered, and you could see the conflict churning within her. But it was quickly masked by anger once more. “You think I can just forget everything that’s happened? That I can pretend like Piltover isn’t crushing us every day?”

“I don’t want you to forget, but I want you to fight differently!” you exclaimed, stepping forward again. “You have the power to inspire people, to bring them together, to create change without losing yourself in the process! Please, just think about what you’re sacrificing!”

Jinx's eyes flicker with intensity as she steps back, her voice rising, “Do you think they’ll ever let me be anything else? The council, the enforcers—they see me as a criminal. Nothing I say or do is gonna change that.”

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself. “But pushing them further won’t help, Jinx. You’re just giving them more reasons to hunt you down.”

Her jaw clenches, lips curling into a mocking smirk. “So, what, I just sit back? Let them make all the rules?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” you insist, struggling to keep your tone calm. “But every time you go after them, you’re risking more than just your life. There’s so much more here—so much more to us.”

Jinx scoffs, but there’s a flicker of hesitation in her eyes, like she’s torn between you and something much darker. “Maybe I don’t want them to have the last word.”

You step closer, lowering your voice. “And maybe I just want to keep you around a little longer.”

For a moment, the defiance softens, and she’s looking at you with something vulnerable, something almost gentle. But it fades quickly, her expression hardening again. “They’ve got you wrapped around their finger,” she mutters, pulling back.

Jinx’s words linger in the air, sharp and unyielding, but you refuse to let her pull away entirely. “I’m not on their side, Jinx. I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

She tilts her head, blue eyes narrowing in suspicion, her defiance still on full display. “Safe? And what do you get out of it, huh?” There’s a flash of something raw, almost accusing, as if daring you to admit you don’t understand her world.

Your hand finds hers, grounding her even as she looks ready to bolt. “Maybe I get to be around you. Just you, Jinx, not the fighter or the name they give you, but...you.”

Jinx’s smirk twists, her hand slipping out of yours like a shadow. “You think you can just talk me out of this?” Her tone turns mocking, eyes gleaming with something more volatile. “You think that’s all it’ll take to make me just… sit pretty, like some lapdog?”

“Jinx, that’s not what I meant,” you say, trying to keep calm. “I’m just saying that if you keep pushing this—”

“Then what?” she snaps, voice rising as she takes a step back, crossing her arms defiantly. “Then what happens? They take me down? They throw me in Stillwater?” Her voice is laced with venom, each word daring you to challenge her.

You hesitate, and that’s enough. She seizes it, her eyes narrowing. “See? Even you don’t believe I can make it out of this. You’re just like them.”

“That’s not fair,” you argue, feeling the sting of her words. “I’m here, aren’t I? I left everything to be with you!”

Jinx’s jaw tightens, but she doesn’t relent, her gaze icy. “Maybe you shouldn’t have. Maybe you’re just as blind as they are, thinking you can fix me.” Her words hit like a slap, each one colder than the last.

For a moment, you’re both silent, the air thick with hurt and frustration. Then, without another word, she turns, walking away before you can say anything else, leaving you alone in the hollow silence of her retreating footsteps. The storm you both had danced around finally erupted, and you felt the distance between you grow wider, the rooftop now a battlefield for hearts torn apart by ambition and fear.

You took a deep breath, your heart heavy with the weight of your earlier words. The air felt thick with unspoken words, the silence between you heavy as you struggled to find the right thing to say. You couldn’t let the anger fester between you; you needed to reach her before the distance became insufferable. So, you made your way back to the workshop, where the clatter of metal and the faint smell of burning circuits filled the air.

As you stepped inside, the scene was nothing less than chaotic, Jinx sitting in a stool surrounded by blueprints and makeshift weapons, her brow furrowed in concentration. But the moment you entered, she looked up, and her expression shifted—defensive, as if she expected an attack.

“Didn’t I tell you to leave me alone?” she snapped, her eyes narrowing. The defensiveness in her voice was like a shield, her anger a barrier against your concerns. It hurt to see her like this, closed off and unapproachable.

“Jinx, please, I want to talk,” you said, your voice soft but urgent. “I need you to listen to me.”

“What could you possibly say that I haven’t already heard?” she replied, turning back to her work, her shoulders tense with unspoken frustration.

You hesitated for a moment, the weight of your earlier argument heavy in your chest. “I want to apologize for what I said. I shouldn’t have pushed you away like that. I care about you more than anything, and the thought of losing you terrifies me."

Her laughter rang harshly in the cramped workshop, an indication of the walls she had built around herself. The tension hung in the air, a physical thing you could almost touch

“Jinx—” you started, but the words died in your throat when you caught a glimpse of a list she had spread across the table. As you leaned closer, your heart dropped. Among a scribbles of names, one stood out like a dreadful sight—your mother’s name, circled in red ink.

A memory flickers through your mind, warm and vivid. You recall a sunny afternoon when you were a early teenager, sitting on the porch with your mom, her laughter filling the air as she recounted stories from her own youth and listened to your struggles. You can almost feel her hand on your shoulder, her hugs, the comfort of her presence, her arms surrounding you. But now, that warmth feels cold and distant, faded under the weight of what you've learned.

The shock washes over you like a wave, pulling you under. You think back to the sweet moments you shared, and how quickly they turn bitter. Your breath hitches in your throat, and you struggle to process the contrast of that joyful day and the grim reality now laid bare before you.

“Why?” The word escapes your lips in a whisper, raw and laden with confusion and sorrow. Tears filling your eyes.

In that moment of clarity, you realize the stakes have changed. The girl you once knew and loved seems faded, and you’re not sure if she’ll ever come back. You lock eyes with Jinx, her expression shifting from mischief to concern. She can see the turmoil within you, but you’re not sure how to voice the storm brewing in your heart.

“Jinx, I—” you start, but the words don’t come. All that’s left is the weight of the moment, and the understanding that everything you care about is in jeopardy.

“What is this?” you whispered, your voice trembling along with your hands.

“What does it look like? It’s my plan,” she snapped, her voice hardening as she faced you. The defiance in her eyes only masked the uncertainty that lay beneath, a wall you desperately wanted to tear down.

Your heart raced, shock settling deep in your gut. “This is a joke, right? You can’t be serious about this. My mother… she’s not your enemy. She’s done so much for people in Zaun trying to defend them against the rest of the council.”

“Your mother is part of the council,” she shot back, her tone cold. “She’s part of the problem.” Jinx’s words cut deep, fueled by resentment that had festered over the years.

“You don’t understand!” you cried, stepping closer, desperate to make her see. “She’s a good person! You don’t know what she’s done for this city. And you think killing her is the answer?”

Jinx crossed her arms defiantly. “It’s not personal; it’s necessary. If we want to change things, we have to take out the root of the problem!”

You processed her words for a couple of seconds.

“Necessary?” you echoed, disbelief lacing your voice. What about the cost, Jinx? Do you really believe this will fix anything? You’re playing with lives!”

She scoffed, shaking her head. “You keep saying I should just sit back and let Piltover crush us. You don’t know what it’s like down here!”

“I do know!” you shouted, the frustration boiling over. “I left my family for you! I chose this life because I believed in us! But you’re losing yourself in this havoc! You don’t have to lose yourself to fight back! You can be strong without becoming a fucking monster!”

Her eyes flashed with anger she stood up, and stepped closer, her voice dropping dangerously low. “And what if I want to be a monster? What if I want to prove I’m more than just the girl you fell in love with? I can’t be weak anymore!”

“Prove yourself? By hurting innocent people?” you pleaded, tears falling down your cheeks. “That’s not strength, Jinx! That’s surrendering to the dark!”

For a moment, her expression flickered, a crack in her fierce facade. “You don’t understand anything!” she shouted, hitting the table with her fist, but there was a tremor in her voice that betrayed her.

“Then help me understand!” you cried, feeling the tears spill over. “You’re pushing me away, and it’s breaking my heart! You don’t have to do this alone!”

The air between you crackled with tension, the fight spiraling into something deeper, more painful. You watched as Jinx wrestled with her emotions, caught between the hatred she felt compelled to embrace and the light that flickered within her. You could only hope she would choose to come back to you, back to the love that had once defined your world together.

You can see the storm brewing behind Jinx’s eyes—a mix of fury, confusion, and fear. “You don’t get it!” she shouts, throwing blueprints into the air, her voice breaking as she struggles to keep her composure. “Every day, I watch Piltover take everything from us. They don’t care about our lives, our pain! If I don’t fight back, then what’s the point?"

“Fighting back doesn’t mean becoming a killer!” you urged, stepping even closer, the desperation in your voice rising. “I understand your pain, I really do. But don’t let it consume you! You’re better than this!”

“Better than what?” she shot back, her fists shaking at her sides. “Better than taking control? Better than standing up for myself? I’ve spent my whole life feeling powerless, feeling weak. I won’t let that happen again!”

“Then prove that you’re strong enough to fight for change without sinking into the dark!” you pleaded, your own voice thick with emotion. “You can be a hero without losing yourself!”

Jinx scoffed, and you could see the mask of defiance slipping. “A hero? For who? For your precious council? They’ll just keep pushing us down while they live in their shiny towers! What do they care about us?”

“I care about you!” you shouted, the words pouring out in a rush. “I left everything behind for you, Jinx! Your voice trembled with the truth of your sacrifice, the raw emotion behind it echoing in the silence between you. You could feel your heart racing as you laid bare your feelings, desperate for her to understand the depths of your commitment. “You say you want to prove yourself, but this isn’t the way! You’re not a monster; you’re so much more than that!”

Her breath hitched, and for a fleeting moment, doubt crept into her fierce expression. But then she shook her head, frustration returning. “You think I can just turn my back on all of this? On everything I’ve worked for? You don’t see what it’s like for us! You’re blinded by your privilege!”

“Blinded? I chose this life! I chose to be with you!” you countered, anger and heartbreak blending into one. “But it feels like you’re choosing to push me away instead!”

Jinx’s gaze hardened once more, but the wavering in her voice betrayed her. “You don’t understand what it means to fight for your life every day, to feel like you have to become something you hate just to survive!”

“Then let me help you! Together, we can find a better way to fight—one that doesn’t destroy you in the process!” you urged, feeling the tears spill down your cheeks. “You’re not alone in this! You don’t have to be!”

“I’ve always been alone!” she shouted back, her voice rising with the pain of her past. “Do you think you can just swoop in and fix everything? You just think you know what it’s like!”

“You’re making it impossible to understand you! You’re shutting me out, and it’s tearing us apart!” you reply, stepping closer, heart racing as tears stream down your face like a waterfall.

The air between you crackled with tension, the weight of your argument hanging heavy. Jinx’s eyes searched yours, and for a moment, the fire of anger flickered, replaced by something deeper—a vulnerability she was struggling to confront.

“Every time I try to do something, it’s never enough,” she admitted, her voice trembling. The vulnerability in her admission caught you off guard, revealing the internal struggle she faced—the crushing weight of expectations and perceived failures. “I feel like I’m drowning in this chaos, and I don’t know how to swim anymore.”

“Then let me be your lifeline,” you urged, reaching out to cup her face in your hands, wiping away a tear that had escaped down her cheek. “You don’t have to bear this alone. We can face this together.” You stepped closer, your heart pounding as you tried to reach her, to show her that she didn’t have to fight this battle by herself. Your desperation to connect was palpable, a lifeline you hoped she would grasp.

But just as quickly as it appeared, her mask snapped back into place, and she pulled away from your touch. “I can’t risk losing you like I lost everyone else! I won’t let you down with me.”

“Jinx, you’re not going to lose me if you let me in!” you cried, your heart aching with every word. “But if you continue down this path, you won’t just lose your fight; you’ll lose yourself completely.” The gravity of your words hung in the air, a warning that resonated with both of you. You could see the flicker of fear in her eyes, the realization of what she stood to lose beyond the immediate struggle. “And I can’t bear to watch you destroy who you are.”

For a moment, silence hung heavy between you, both of you catching your breath from the weight of the confrontation. Jinx stood there, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, caught in the crossfire of her own inner demons.

“Just… just go,” she finally whispered, her voice barely above a breath. “I can’t face this right now,” she murmured, her voice cracking as she stepped away from you, the distance feeling insurmountable.

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “I won’t leave you like this.”

“I don’t want to hurt you!” she shouted, the anguish in her voice ripping through you. “But I can’t stop this. I need to do something! I have to prove that I’m not weak!”

“Prove yourself by being strong enough to choose love over hatred!” you pleaded, your heart racing. “By choosing to fight for a better future, not just revenge!”

Jinx faltered, the fire in her eyes dimming as the weight of your words settled over her. But just as quickly, her fierce expression returned, anger bubbling back to the surface. “You don’t get it! You have no idea what it’s like to fight for survival!”

“Then let me in, Jinx!” you yelled, frustration mixing with desperation. “Show me! Let me help you! But don’t push me away!”

The chaos of the workshop faded into the background as you stood there, raw and vulnerable, hoping for a spark of understanding to break through her defenses.

But as Jinx’s eyes searched yours, you saw the conflict raging inside her—a storm of emotions battling against the walls she had built around herself. You could only hope she would let you in, that she would choose love over the darkness that threatened to consume her.

You watched as Jinx’s expression hardened once more, the flicker of vulnerability snuffed out like a candle in the wind. Without another word, she turned and stormed out of the workshop, the door slamming behind her with a finality that echoed through the chaos.

She didn't return the next hours, days stretched into an agonizing blur, each moment dragging heavier than the last. You found yourself wandering through the cluttered workshop, tracing the familiar paths your fingers had taken alongside Jinx. Yet, the space felt emptier without her laughter and chaotic energy. Each tick of the clock was a reminder of her absence, and the worry gnawed at your insides like a relentless hunger.

Every time you thought of her, your heart ached at the image of her battling her demons alone, becoming someone you hardly recognized. It made you cry every. single. time.

One morning, after a particularly restless night, you woke to an odd feeling. The workshop was still, the hum of machinery absent, just as it had been since Jinx left. You padded over to the workbench where Fishbones usually lay, a symbol of Jinx's chaotic brilliance. But as you peered closer, your heart sank. The spot was bare; the blueprints were scattered, but the centerpiece of her latest creation was gone

“Jinx?” you called, your voice trembling in the stillness. But there was no response, just the echo of your own fear reverberating back at you. You ask yourself when did she came back, and why did she leave without a word.

Panic surged through your veins as you began to search the workshop frantically, rifling through the scattered tools and half-finished gadgets. You felt a sense of dread pooling in your stomach. “Where did you go now?” you whispered, the question hanging heavy in the air.

You forced yourself to remember the last time you’d seen her, the angry tears in her eyes and the fierce determination in her voice. She was on a mission—one you didn’t understand, one that scared you more than you could express. You ran a hand through your hair, pacing the room, your thoughts spiraling out of control.

Maybe she had gone to confront the council, to put her plan into action without you. The thought sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn’t let her do this alone, couldn’t let her plunge deeper into the dark. Not when you could still reach her.

With a renewed sense of urgency, you grabbed your coat and headed out, determination pushing you forward. You had to find Jinx before it was too late.

As you burst out of the hideout, the chaos of the streets collided with the weight of your heart. Gasps filled the air, and the acrid scent of smoke stung your nostrils. But nothing could prepare you for the sight that greeted you: a massive bomb soaring through the sky, headed straight for the council’s hall.

“No, no, no!” you shouted, horror washing over you as the realization sank in. You knew Jinx had been plotting something, but you hadn’t expected this—this was more than chaos; this was devastation. Your breath came in ragged gasps as you turned and sprinted towards the council building, fear pushing you forward.

Your heart raced as you burst into the council chamber, dread settling in your gut as the horror unfolded before you. The chaos of the scene blurred the edges of your vision, each moment stretching painfully as reality sank in.

The remnants of the explosion painted a devastating picture—flames flickered hungrily, consuming the walls, and the air was thick with acrid smoke and the bitter scent of ash. The acrid scent of burning debris stung your eyes, mixing with the metallic tang of blood. And there, amidst the charred wreckage, lay your mother’s body—still and lifeless, a tragic stillness that felt like the world had shattered around you.

An unbearable weight pressed against your chest, Memories still flashing before your eyes: her laughter, the way she used to tuck you in at night, the warmth of her embrace on the darkest days. Each recollection a reminder of the love that had once seemed so invincible, suffocating you in your disbelief.

As you fell to your knees beside your mother, the world around you faded into a blur of smoke and flames.”Mom.. mom please wake up, I'm so sorry, mom please, Im sorry” you begged, hoping that this was all just a dream. You reached out, fingers trembling, desperate to feel her warmth. But as your hand met her cold skin, a bone-deep realization shattered through the haze—this was real, and she was gone.

Then you heard hurried footsteps, and Caitlyn appeared, eyes wide with shock, horror painted across her features. She froze for a moment, her breath catching in her throat as she took in the devastation around her. But beneath the surface, there was something else—something darker. As her gaze landed on your mother’s body, disbelief washed over her, and she staggered back, nearly collapsing.

“Mom! No!” Caitlyn cried, her voice cracking as she knelt beside your mother. Tears streamed down her face as she gently shook her shoulder, desperation etched across her features. “Wake up! Please… you can’t leave us like this!, mom please!”

For a moment, it seemed she might break under the weight of her grief. But then her gaze snapped to you, fury igniting in her eyes. “Y-You did this!” she shouted, her voice slicing through the air like a knife as she stood up. “You chose that bitch over us! You couldn’t see it, could you? You were too busy chasing after a lost cause!”

“Caitlyn, I—” you started, but she cut you off, advancing toward you, anger radiating off her like heat from a fire.

“Do you even realize what you’ve done?” Her fists clenched, trembling with rage. “You had a family who loved you, who wanted to protect you. I loved you, more than anything, and you threw it all away for a girl who’s nothing but a psycho! You think this is love? Look where your choices got us!”

“I didn’t know!” you cried, the reality of your decisions crashing down on you. “I thought I could help her! I thought I could make her see!”

“See what?” Caitlyn’s voice rose higher, piercing your heart with every word. “That she’s a monster? You think she cares about you? Look at what she’s done!”

“I didn’t want this! I never wanted any of this!” you shouted back, tears streaming down your face. “If I had just listened—”

“Exactly! If you had listened!” Caitlyn’s voice cracked, emotion spilling over. “But you were too caught up in your fantasy! You think she loves you? All she’s ever done is use you! And now look at what it’s cost us!”

“Stop!” you yelled, feeling the walls close in around you. “You don’t understand! I was wrong! I thought we could be happy together!”

“Happiness?” Caitlyn scoffed, bitter laughter spilling from her lips but the tears never stoped. “You think you could find happiness with someone like her? You’re delusional! This is your fault! You’ve destroyed everything!”

“No, Caitlyn! I loved her! I thought I could save her! I thought I could prove them all wrong!” You were sobbing now, every word heavy with regret. “I didn’t think—”

“Of course, you didn’t think! You never do!” Caitlyn stepped closer, her eyes blazing with fury. “You only think about yourself and your stupid feelings! You’ve ruined our family because you couldn’t keep your head on straight!”

“Don’t say that!” You felt a fire ignite within you, fueled by your pain and loss. “You don’t know anything about love! You think pushing me away would have kept me safe? You just wanted to control me, to make me into someone I’m not!”

“Control?” Caitlyn laughed again, but it was a hollow sound. “You think I wanted to control you? I wanted to protect you! But you were too blinded by your infatuation to see it! And now—” Her voice broke, and for a moment, you saw the hurt beneath her anger. “Now, we’re all paying the price. You played your part in moms murder and you know it”

You choked on a sob, the weight of her words crushing you. “I never wanted to hurt anyone! I thought we could find a way to make it work! I thought you’d understand!”

“Understand what?” Caitlyn shouted, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “That you chose her over your own family? That you let her drag you down with her? You think she cares about you? You think she’s worth this?”

“Stop! Please stop!” you screamed, feeling the pain radiate through your chest. “You don’t know what it’s like! I thought she could be good! I thought I could be her light!”

“Light?” Caitlyn spat, the venom in her voice cutting deep. “You were just another toy for her to play with! You’ve wasted everything, and for what? For someone who will never change, for some piece of shit that killed our mother?”

“I was trying to save her!” you shouted, the realization crashing down on you. “I thought I could save her, but now... now I see what I’ve done! I swear Cait just please forgive me, i can't lose you two!, please Cait” your voice broked as you whispered the last sentence.

Caitlyn stepped back, her face pale, disappointment etched into her features. “It’s too late for that now. You’ve lost everything, and I don’t know if I can ever forgive you for this.”

The silence that followed was deafening, each of you standing amidst the wreckage of your family, the ruins of your love, and the body of the one person who had always believed in you. You felt hollow, the pain cutting deeper than any blade. Your sister’s words echoed in your mind, each one a reminder of the choices you had made and the lives that were now forever altered.

And as you both just looked at each other, the weight of your shared grief hung heavy in the air, a chasm between you that felt impossible to bridge. You had sacrificed so much for love, and yet, all you had left was the realization that in chasing after Jinx, you had lost everything that truly mattered.

The memories of laughter, warmth, and the comforting presence of your mother felt like a distant echo, now shadowed by the haunting truth of her absence. You closed your eyes, tilting your head down, trying to hold onto the fragments of those fleeting moments—her voice guiding you through life, the way her smile lit up your mood when everything felt like it was falling apart.

But now, every recollection was tinged with regret. You had followed a path paved with devotion to Jinx, believing it would lead to happiness. Instead, it had brought you to this desolate place, a barren landscape where love had turned to ashes. The bright flame of your passion had flickered out, leaving behind only the heavy smoke of loss.

You had given up everything, and for what? A chaotic whirlwind of emotions that left you empty.

In that moment of despair, you understood that love, while beautiful, could also be a cruel trick. You had thought you were strong enough to carry it all, but now you felt like a shell of the person you once were, lost in grief and heartache.

The silence around you was deafening, filled only with the echoes of your sorrow. And as the tears fell freely, you were left to confront the truth—some sacrifices were too great, and in the end, love could sometimes lead to a loss that felt insurmountable.

The silence around you was deafening, filled only with the echoes of your sorrow. As the tears fell freely, you felt the burden of the truth pressing down on you like a heavy weight—some sacrifices were too great, and in the end, love could sometimes lead to a loss that felt insurmountable.

Through the haze of your grief, a thought pierced the fog. You looked at Caitlyn, your heart aching with a mix of desperation and fear. “Caitlyn… am I going to Stillwater?” The question hung in the air, fragile and raw, reflecting the uncertainty that had taken root in your chest.

Caitlyn’s expression shifted, caught between sorrow and something darker. “I don’t know,” she replied, her voice low. “After everything... I don’t know what they’ll decide.”

The words felt like a cold slap against your skin. “But I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I thought I could fix things.” You swallowed hard, your voice trembling. “I thought I could save her.”

“Maybe you should’ve thought about that before,” Caitlyn said, the sharpness of her words cutting deep. “You had a choice, and you chose her. Now we all have to deal with the consequences.”

Your heart sank further at her words, but you couldn’t shake the fear clawing at your insides. “Caitlyn, please. I can’t go to Stillwater. I can't lose you too!” The plea spilled from your lips, desperate and raw.

She turned away, her shoulders trembling. “You already lost me. You made your choice.”

As you watched her walk away, a hollow feeling settled in your chest, the chasm between you two feeling unfixable. You had sacrificed everything for love, yet in the end, it was you who stood alone, lost amidst the ruins of your choices.

In that moment of despair, you understood the cruel irony: love, while beautiful, could also be a devastating force, leaving only ashes in its wake. And as you hold beside your mother’s lifeless body, the reality of your situation bore down on you like a shroud, suffocating and inescapable.

You had chased after a dream, only to awaken to the nightmare of your actions—a nightmare that now threatened to swallow you whole.

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