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cuteandhughesy · 4 months ago

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Dazed & Confused | Simon Benoit

summary: working for the leafs social media team was nothing short of uneventful - especially when a blonde french man is adamant on making you flustered.

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Prologue:

you first saw simon benoit in passing. you remember the moment all too well.

dylan, your boss and head co- ordinator for the toronto maple leafs social media team, needed you to cover a pre-season game after the usual instagram girl called in sick. you usually worked more with the youtube page and tiktok account, but willingly stepped up when he asked. after all, it was still grabbing content - and you were used to that.

you remember standing in the players tunnel to capture a video of the team getting ready to take the ice. simon breezed passed you in a cloud of woodsy spice and bright eyes. he didn't really notice you, only sending a brief nod and closed lipped smile in your direction before jogging away.

you barley saw his face, and you didn't recognize the name on the back of the blue jersey. you were intrigued, but didn't seek out for answers - just did the job and left.

you didn't think about him much after that - not until he got called up to play on the leafs back end for the foreseeable future. then, simon benoit was always around; practices, team meals, games and everything in between. he became a solid member of the toronto maple leafs.

he was always polite and friendly. you were smitten as soon as you got a proper look at his face and he flashed you an award winning smile. simon was all dirty blonde mullet, tattoos and moustache...it was unfair, really. in the few weeks he's been playing with the team, you've also noticed how much of a determined and hard player he was. you could tell he really loved what he did. they way he battled for the puck, threw his body around and blocked any shot no matter the speed - and all that made you even more interested in him.

to say you were currently nervous was an understatement: you were quite literally trembling. your mouth was dry and underarms moist as you set up the tripod for the teams filming camera. your dress - although professional - was flowing freely, brushing your tan knees in a way that was almost overstimulating.

normally, getting equipment ready to film content was fine - easy, even. but the presence of the 6 foot 4, deliciously scented, handsome canadian was enough to throw you off your game. just the thought of having to soon converse with simon, has your body feeling trembly. thankfully, you could pass as being chilled: the slight breeze providing the excuse.

"you're not cold?" the sound of simon's french accent has you tensing up in the shoulders. you'll have to talk to him much sooner than you intended, and you feel yourself get warm at the thought.

as nonchalant as you can manage, you pretend to fiddle with one of the dials on the video recorder, although you'd already adjusted it all properly - you needed a distraction when you spoke. you clear your throat, "no, this is a treat compared to toronto."

although it was Anaheim, it was still january and the wind did bring a chill to your exposed skin. in that moment, you wished you brought your jean jacket along instead of leaving it in your hotel room. with that in mind, it was still much warmer than winter back home.

simon laughs once, crossing his arms over his sweater clad chest. the material tightens over his biceps so wonderfully, and you have trouble focusing. "yes, true but you've just got a dress on...i've got a shirt on if you want to borrow my - "

the thought of wearing his clothing and getting to smell his cologne was just too much. even though him just offering his sweatshirt sent your heart ablaze.

"i'm good," you interrupt, eyes finally dashing up to meet the man before you. his gaze is soft on you, and the way his hair sticks out from beneath his hat is almost endearing. you send him a close lipped smile when he gives you a concerned look, clearly weary of your tone. "thank you, though, simon."

his lip quirks up on one side, "just call me benny."

you tuck a loose hair that's fallen from your messy braid behind your ear, hands falling from the pointless fiddling on the camera. "did I say your name wrong?" your brows crease together, worried that he was only giving you his nickname because you butchered his actual one.

simon shakes his head quickly, arms uncrossing. "no, no. it's just..." you quirk a brow as if urging him to continue. he breaths a laugh, "nothing, it's okay."

you don't read into his dismissal and remove the clipboard out from where it was tucked between your ribcage and bicep. immediately you feel relief from where the metal clip was digging into your boob. "okay, benny, just to go over this one more time - it's a get to know you for our tiktok so all the questions are probably ones you've answered a million times so I apologize for that...ummm," you meet his eyes and they widen when you see he's smirking back at you. you clear your throat, and look back to your clipboard. "we are already rolling so if you're ready, we can start?"

his arms cross again, and his chest bulges out. "i'm always ready."

"is that so?" for some reason, you decide to tease him. you're not sure where your sudden confidence has come from, but you don't back down - looking up through your lashes to watch his face for a reaction.

his tongue pokes his cheek and he snickers, "oh yeah." you're not sure if he's trying to sound seductive, but it works, and your face flushes red. his suggestive tone has your spark of confidence disappearing and you dart your eyes down quickly, "how do you properly pronounce your name?"

"are you asking or is this the first question?" he teases, hands clasping behind his lower back. although now you can't stare at his veiny hands and long fingers, the way his chest broadens at the pull has all your attention. "I can't tell."

you subtly shake your head to pull yourself together. "I thought you were always ready?" you hum, sending him a playful glance. you're not sure how confident your teasing remark comes across, but you still keep the eye contact.

simon laughs a real hearty laugh and the sound sends your stomach swooping. "touché" he muses. "simon benoit." he answers your question without being asked again, and his thick accent has you feeling flustered.

clearing your throat once, "any nicknames?" you ask.

"just benny," he smiles.

the breeze picks up again -the anaheim air smelling like ocean. hints of grass from the golf course you and the team were at currently filling your nostrils. "you lived here in california for a few years, where was your favourite spot to go to?"

simon hums momentarily, "I think, uh, laguna beach, it's a pretty cool spot - a little artsy hippie, I liked it a lot."

you hum lightly, tucking the same piece of hair that's fallen out your braid back behind your ear. "artsy and hippie huh?"

his lip quirks up, "what? do I not look like the type?"

you just shrug lightly, "no no, just wasn't expecting that. maybe some practice rink or expensive cafe"

"c'mon i'm not that shallow," he laughs. simon notices your eyes almost sparkle when you tease him, and you always have to fight back a wide smile. he likes the way you flush when he teases you back, and he wonders if you always get flustered when doing media with the team.

your quiet laughs fades, and you look down at your clipboard again. "do you have a favourite spot in toronto?"

his arms go over his chest again, and he sways back and forth slightly. "yeah, I like trinity bellwoods. it's a nice spot. cool little cafes, nice park."

your eyes brighten ever so slightly, "so I wasn't wrong about the expensive cafes?"

simon splutters twice with amusement, "who said it was expensive?"

you giggle, "all toronto cafes are, benny."

he breaths a laughs, "well, one day I can take you. then you can decide if it's expensive."

you have to fight a smile. this was not helping your case- I mean, he was practically asking you on a date...right? maybe he was just being friendly, or maybe just keeping the conversation rolling. regardless, you flush at his words and look away, "we will cut that don't worry."

simon just shrugs, "doesn't matter." although he seems nonchalant with his words, there's a small part of his pride that flares knowing you didn't want anybody to watch the way he flirted with you - that you wanted to keep it between you both.

you fight a smile. "what's in? and what's out?"

his brows pull together, "what does that mean?"

"like, what do you want to see more of this year? and what's something you want to see less of?"

"ahhh, I see," he hums, "let me think."

the breeze picks up again and you shiver gently. on the golf cart behind you, your coworker, james, shoves his headphones off one ear. he's sitting on your shared cart with the teams editing laptop, making sure the shot on the camera is correct and the audio is working - all the boring stuff you hated doing. "y/n," he hums, "can you adjust benny's microphone, i'll let you know when it's good again."

fuck, you think.

"yeah, sure," you nod gently. you move towards simon with as much confidence as you can muster, avoiding the way he watches your every move with a playful little smile.

you can smell that same spicy scent he is always wearing as you step into his space, and you feel faint. "just...stay still for a moment." you whisper into the air between you and the quebec native.

"okay," he says back just as quietly, mirroring your tone. only as you concentrate on keeping your cool, simon is smirking softly down at you.

you hope he can't see the shake in your hands as you reach up to the collar of his maple leaf branded sweatshirt. you start adjusting the microphone with expertise, james calling out directions as you do so.

you can feel simon still staring down at you, and you wonder if he's still got that sexy smirk on his face or not. he shifts, hands moving to sit on his hips.

"stay still," you remind him, eyes darting up to meet simon's. your tone is harsher than intended, but you can't help it. being so close to him had you feeling nervous and tense and james still didn't have the audio and -

"you're kind of bossy," simon laughs.

you hear james call out from behind you both, telling you the audio is back and the video can continue. although his words fall on deaf ears, simon's statement the only thing you can concentrate on. "what?" you splutter, hands falling back to your sides and away from the man in front of you. "i'm not bossy."

"shame," simon teases gently, "I like bossy,"

your eyes go wide, and you shoot a glance over your shoulder to your co-worker. james doesn't look up, but he's smirking - because he can literally hear you both word for word.

"wha - no, i- shhh," you panick, face surely flushed bright red and if somebody was to reach out and touch it - they'd get burnt from the heat.

simon smirks at your reaction. he leans in close to the microphone clipped to your dress, sitting between your boobs. "james, cut that out." he says.

if you weren't frozen (and kinda turned on) you would've moved away, but you didn't. too wrapped up in the smell and voice and aura of simon benoit.

"i've got it," simon says once he straightens back up to his full height.

"got what?" you don't mean to whisper but you do, face still beating red.

"my answer," he teases, "are you ready? or do you need a minute?"

you scoff highly, "yes, i'm ready! you were the one with the microphone problem." you wave your hands rather frantically in the direction of his chest.

you can hear james stifle a laugh behind you.

"I'm teasing you," simon says. he has the strongest urge to tuck that damn piece of hair behind your ear, but he doesn't want to scare you. there's also an audience, and you've also only just properly met. so instead, he smirks, shoe nudging against yours.

"oh, okay." you heat up with something you think is embarrassment, "let's get on with it then, god, benny"

your attempted dig back is successful and has simon laughing loudly as you retreat back a few feet to behind the tripod. you pick up your abandoned clipboard on the grass and you ask the question again.

the filming don't last much longer, and simon continues to flirt with you - very much unbothered by the fact your co-worker can hear his every word. everytime your cheeks turn pinker and you have to fight a smile: simon gets a little bit more smitten. when you end the video, he protests once and says he's having too much fun and that has your heart fluttering.

simon bids goodbye then with a smirk and a gentle nudge to your side. you busy yourself with packing up the tripod so you don't have to face james with a flushed face.

it's no use though, because he comes up to you and clears his throat knowingly.

"what?" you hiss.

james has always been your closest co-worker. you'd even consider him your closest friend outside of the rink. in fact, you spend most evenings with james and his boyfriend at their apartment watching 2000's movies and eating unhealthy snacks until your stomachs are on the verge of exploding.

"you think he's cute, don't you?"

"no," you say immediately. "well, he's not ugly - but, no no he's just-i'm just-"

"you know he was flirting with you, right?" james teases, rolling up one of the cords around his forearm. "but based on your permanently red face...you knew, and you liked it."

you splutter, "he's just being friendly."

"whatever you say," james teases in your ear, turning away to pack up the laptop. "but, so you're aware...he couldn't keep his eyes off you for more than 10 seconds."

you swallow hard at that.

the rest of the day you kept catching simon's eyes and everytime he gave you that smirk that had you melting.

Part One: (A)

ever since that interview, anytime you and simon had to interact, he was always getting you flustered. you're not even sure if he was meaning to flirt with you - but boy was he good at it. even thinking of simon had your chest flushing and ears burning, leaving you to fan yourself with sheets of paper while james gives you a smug look: it's fine...really. three weeks have passed of sweet teasing, brushing limbs and trying to ignore the sultry smirk he always seemed to sport when you cracked around him.

the hallways of the practice arena were dimly lit and the cool air wafted through the halls from the rink just a few turns away: chilling your bones.

james wasn't working with you today. he was back at the main arena working on editing the first set of blueprint videos for the leafs youtube channel. so you stood by yourself, phone held in one of those janky tripods that tilt dramatically to the left when you touch it.

with free hands you hold onto the stained whiteboard that held your question of the day: would you rather be a cowboy, pirate or samurai? the question came after mitch marner was bugging you for questions about cowboys (his yellowstone obsession was getting worse).

it only took three players before simon sauntered his way over. he peeks around ryan reaves, who's stopped to read the question. "samurai," reaves decides, gum clicking between his teeth as he passes by.

simon tucks one of his gloves under his arm and uses his bare hand to scratch his growing goatee. your eyes linger on his lips momentarily, watching the way the move - oh, he's talking to you.

"what?" you mumble, blinking three times fast.

he laughs, and you swear his cheekbones becomes dusted with a faint pink. "I asked what would you pick?"

another player passes and calls out there answer.

"you're the one whos supposed to answer the question, benny, not me."

"but I wanna know you have to say," he quips with a raise to his brow and an upwards tug to his lip.

your spit thickens and you swallow nervously under his tense gaze. "i'm very busy and you're distracting me right now."

simon really laughs at that and you have look away. "i'm not distracting you - i'm trying to give you content."

you blush, "whatever."

simon takes a step closer to you, and on his skates he's even taller than normal- no doubt reaching 6"5. you crain your neck back slightly to keep eye contact. "are you going to answer my question?"

simon smirks down at you, eyes meeting the whiteboard touching your belly once more. "captain jack sparrow."

you squint at him, "what? that's not a proper answer."

"yes it is," he chimes, "the pirate one: so i'd be captain jack sparrow. he's badass, no?"

you'll have to edit most of this interaction out the video, you think. the swearing and his teasing and the way he looks down at you...it's all too much for your crushing heart and the fans speculating will just be overwhelming.

you stand your ground, keeping eye contact and pray your face doesn't go too much redder. "just because you pick pirate, that's no guarantee you'd be jack sparrow."

mitch marner approaches you both and answers samurai - which goes against his begging for the damn cowboy question. as you and mitch bicker about it his answer, simon notices the way you're more confident in the eye contact with his teammate and you don't blush...at all.

it has simon swelling with pride that's he's the only one you react to that way and the thought has a fire lighting under him. wordlessly, he slips past you both with a smile on his lips.

you edit the videos on the unoccupied visitors bench after you captured some on ice videos of the team during practice. you were sitting beside the teams photographer for a good chunk of the practice before you left to go into one of the spare rooms to pack up your stuff and head home.

you could hear the players laughing in the dressing room as they undress and pack up. you end up tweaking the video more on your computer, taking up another 20 minutes of time. you're still shoving things into your shoulder bag when you leave the room, checking the oversized compartments to make sure you've got everything.

so you're not looking where you're going, and you're reprimanded when you bump into a body. the impact sends the bag off your shoulder, loose papers flying out and pens rolling across the concrete.

"i'm sorry, I wasn't -" you look up to see a smiling simon, hand on your shoulder to steady you. the sight and feeling of him as you stopping your scentence.

"my apologies," he says. "I didn't see you."

you give him a skeptical look, "you didn't see me?"

simon did see you: he just wanted to try and get you flustered again. plus any excuse to talk to you from here on out, he was going to take. "swear." the smirk he's sporting has you believing him even less.

simultaneously, you both bend down to collect the spilled items. it's then when you notice simon is dressed in his regular clothing, a hoodie and a pair of athletic pants. he's got his winter parka on as well.

he passes you your pens and you shove them back into the branded bag, standing to your full height. "thanks," you nod, "I didn't take you for such a gentleman."

he stands as well, passing you a loose laptop cord. "you think i'm a gentleman?" there's a teasing tone underlying in his voice.

your eyes are drawn to his black coat again, and your brows pull together. he was clearly leaving, but both entrances were the other way: in the direction you had been headed. the rink, the dressing room, none of that was down were you two collided. "depends," you hum, "do gentleman purposely try and knock me on my ass? or is that just you?"

simon kisses his teeth, looking down to the floor briefly. "just me I think."

his honesty has you fighting back a giggle. you have to bite onto your bottom lip from cracking, but the corners of your mouth still tug upwards. "thought so."

"I wasn't trying to knock you down - which, by the way, didn't happen," he muses, "I was trying to find you."

"why?" you drag out, hands clasping onto the strap of your heavy bag.

"to walk you out," he says in a 'duh' manner. you give him another skeptical look, and he sighs gently "I'm trying to get to know you, y/n. just go with it and treat your new co-worker - me, by the way, nicely." he's teasing you again, a glimmer to his eyes as they watch for your reaction.

"alright," you nod as you start walking down the hall. simon follows quickly, falling into step with your much smaller strides. "it's not like, a part of your job or anything though...to get to know me. you don't have to spend time with me."

he laughs beside you, his coat covered bicep brushing against your shoulder. "I know. doesn't mean that I don't want to spend time with you."

you two reach the door to the parking garage, and he holds it open for you to slip through after him. you smile in thanks, that all familiar heat making it appearance on your skin. "thats nice of you to say, really."

"see," he smirks as he comes to a stop, "I can be an actual gentleman - not just the creepy kind who stalks around the arena until he finds you."

you do laugh out loud at that, all your teeth shining and simon admires the way your face looks while you smile. "stalked the arena until you found me huh?"

he shrugs like he's not embarrassed, which has you beaming even more. "what can I say? i'm very determined to make you blush and do that spluttering thing you do when we speak."

you can't tell if you've paled or gone red, his call out has you feeling light headed and nervous and overwhelmed. "is it that noticeable?" you laugh gently. the panick must be all over your face because simon immediately steps forward, "no, it's okay. it's endearing...I kind of like it."

your brows raise in question and you slightly scoff, "you like watching me get flustered and embarrassed?"

his eyebrows pull together, "what? god no, I like that i'm the only i've seen that can get you like that."

"what is this?" you question, "are you hitting on me? because, you - I can't - we're not allowed to date or whatever without like a 15 page report and - i'm sorry I don't know what's happening. what's happening?"

although his eyebrows shoot up at your rambling, he looks very endeared. "I'm hitting on you, y/n. that's what's happening. is that okay?"

"no!" you say quickly. your eyes close with regret, "no, I meant yes. it's okay but you can't...not really. especially in front of my co-workers and the team. remember! the 15 page report we'd have to fill out if people even thought -"

simon reaches forward, gently tucking a straight strand of your hair back and behind your pierced ear. his gentle touch from his large hand has you pausing, eyes glimmering as you stare up at him.

"okay."

"okay?" you repeat with a squeak. "what does that mean?"

he laughs gently, his hand trailing down your strand of hair and off your body. "it means that i'll be careful when we flirt."

you feel yourself get hot. "seriously, I can get in so much trouble."

"do you want me to stop?" simon asks you gently, "because if you really don't want to continue this, i'll walk away and we can forget it."

with a pondering moment and a shake of your head, you mumble, "no, I don't want you to stop."

"you won't get in trouble, okay?" he hums, "i'll just act normal and just be my normal self...only with secret intentions that nobody will catch on to." he smirks and you laugh through a shaky breath, eyes meeting the floor quickly as you begin to flush a deep burgundy.

simon catches the flush. "there it is," he whispers, hand reaching out to brush against the soft skin of your cheek.

you clear your throat. like with any man you've encountered, there is that nagging voice in your head that reminds you of everything that could go wrong. that what you think could be their intentions are possibly far from it - cheating, toxicity, fake feelings, a bet...everything that could break your heart. with that in mind you meet his eyes again, and you begin to knaw at your bottom lip. you try not to sound guilty when you say, "i'm not trying to date anybody...right now."

you tuck your hands into your coat pockets nervously, already preparing for the blow up and curse out from the man infront of you. he will get mad at your confession...maybe even-

"that's fine," he says immediately, halting the million little thoughts of panic swirling in your head. you exhale in relief, releasing your lip in favour of a smile.

simon mimicks your expression and then says something that has your heart stopping in the best possible way. "but with the most respect i'm not going to stop trying to change your mind."

"he said what?!!" james asks you loudly. you sink further into the white couch cushions of his apartment, hands covering your face.

"that he's not going to stop trying to change my mind." your voice comes out muffled from behind your hands.

james leans forward and pulls your palms away from your face. "and you're telling me you didn't pull him into the back seat of your car and pounce on him after that? it's kind of the hottest thing i've ever heard."

you groan, "I don't know what to do now. or what to say, god, what the hell. I really like him, james. I have an actual crush on this man."

"then why didn't you just say fuck it and do something about it? and don't give me the paperwork excuse, y/n."

"because..." you sigh, your thoughts of doubt once again drowning you. "what if this is all just some sort of thing he does? like...what if i'm just a notch on his belt? something different or someone new that he can't help but try and get with." your pick the skin around your thumb, the sting serving as a distraction. "so I told him I wasn't ready because im scared to get fucked over. i'm trying to protect my peace."

your friend gives you a pitiful look, no doubt memories of your previous relationship and break up making an appearance in his mind.

you had dated you last boyfriend for 4 years and it was awful. sure, the beginning was great but as you two grew as a couple, it got more toxic and exhausting. he cheated on you with a friend and it was all just a shitty situation. hence your hesitation with simon and the thoughts of doubt you were experiencing.

"I get that," james hums, pulling your into a tight side hug, "and I love you so much and never want you to go through that again. just...feel simon out.

let him continue getting you all...blushy and weird as long as you're comfortable- which, judging by your confession earlier - you're very comfortable." you smack your friends arms and he laughs. james continues, "and if you're still feeling doubtful, then it's not meant to be."

Part One: (B)

february 8th was a busy day for you and the leafs social media team. it was the annual outdoor practice and family skate at nathan phillips square downtown - which was a huge day for content.

the TTC was always packed, but even more so with the presence of the toronto maple leafs on board. most of the team wasn't able to find sitting room on the subway, so they were all spread out through the packed cart, shoved between fans and other passengers.

you tug on your lanyard as a nervous habit, eyes dancing through bodies. you find james on the other side of the subway cart. he's holding up one of the teams phones, live streaming for the instagram account. today you opted for purely tiktok content, which would really start once you got to the rink and off the hectic subway.

the TTC comes to a screeching stop at one of the many stops along the way to your destination, and the movement jolts you backwards. "sorry!" you say.

a large hand touches your leather clad hip delicately, steadying your sway. "looks like you're the one trying to knock me on my ass this time." the thick french accent gives simon away immediately.

you turn around so you're facing him. "you're lucky you made yourself known, I was ready to sock a stranger in the face for touching me."

he laughs loudly - too loudly for a public setting and it has you looking around nervously. "i'm kind of upset you only just realized I was standing behind you. I must not have a distinctive presence."

he does have a distinctive presence, you think. you could smell his cologne as soon as the cart started moving, but you were too nervous to turn and look to find out if was him. instead of telling him he smells good and making a fool of yourself, you hum, "I can't take you seriously with that mask on your face."

you see his lips curl into a smirk through the home-made cut out on his black face warmer. "you don't like it?"

"it's awful," your smile betrays your words and that has simon's grin widening. "I can't see your face, only your mouth, it's kind of creepy."

"is that why you keep staring at my lips?" he teases quietly.

you splutter, "well, they are the only thing I can see."

suddenly, simon grabs you waist, tugging you closer and spinning you around so your back is now facing the row of seats that were previously to your right. "what are you doing?" you panick, eyes dancing around to make sure nobody is watching.

"relax," he muses, "you were in the way."

your brows burrow, "In the way...oh," you stop once a little old lady shuffles past, leaning on her walker as she moves through were you once were standing. "I'm surprised you could see her with those crazy tinted glasses."

"wow! you are on fire today," simon muses, releasing your waist. "I like it."

you flush deep, "good." simon's brows raise at your words, and you wish you could see his eyes. at the same time, you think, you were only so bold because you couldn't watch him stare at you.

Instead you focus on his mouth, the smooth pink lips and his moustache peeking out from the mask.

"you're staring again," he whispers. "is it my moustache that you like?" you flush and he smirks, "wanna ride it?"

your face falls and you become impossibly redder. he brightens at your reaction and laughs with amusement. "si!" you screech out. "you flirt in the most awkward situations."

"you know you love it," simon remarked, "you should call me si all the time, I like it."

"does anybody even call you that?"

"no," he hums, "just you."

his arm is caging you in, his veiny hand griping the bar above your head to steady himself. the cart halts again, making you bump into william nylander behind you and it had you snapping out of the trance.

"sorry willy," you mumble.

then willy mentions a certain clip you wanted to get of him walking off the train and you break away from the quebec native to plan with william and directing him like normal.

the short walk form the TTC station to nathan phillips square wasn't long. you got lots of fun videos of the boys during the trek and when you weren't recording, morgan rielly was talking your ear off about his girlfriend and dog who you always asked about.

the fans were always amazing, and you were never less than shocked at how many showed up to the outdoor practice. the practice wasn't anything crazy, but after that, peoples families started to arrive for the scrimmage and family skate. you even got to (very carefully) shuffle out on the ice and get content of willy and his doggies.

you're back on the bench when simon comes up to you, still wearing his glasses and mask, but his smirk is prominent. "hey y/n."

you analyze his face and the way he dragged out your name. you pocket the phone and cross your arms gently, "what do you want?"

simon slaps a hand to his chest, scoffing, "what makes you think I want something?" you raise a brow in his direction and he breaks with a groan. "fine. can you put on my marks for me?"

you're confused at first, but then simon shows you the black stick clutched in the hand he slapped his chest pad with and it all makes sense. "why? you're wearing all that stuff on your face and nobody will be able to see the stripes."

he shrugs and leans in close, "maybe I just want you to touch me."

"shhh," your ears burn red, and thankfully it can be mistaken for just being cold, "just...sit down and shut up."

you gesture to the bench behind you and simon walks around you, his grin still present, "okay bossy."

you send him a look and take the chalk from his outstretched hand. "alright, glasses off."

"mitchy, do you hear how bossy she is?" simon muses. mitch marner is a few feet away from you both, tying his skates up. he snickers as you squeak.

"y/n's always been bossy." mitch teases.

"hey!"

"really?" simon looks up at you, his deep blue eyes now visible as his previously worn sunglasses sit his his lap. "I thought I was special."

your eyes widen in his direction. "you're...ridiculous. now stay still."

"yes ma'am"

with nimble fingers you tug his face covering down ever so slightly, allowing just enough of his cheeks out for you to draw. you're too concentrated on making clean marks that you don't notice simon's gentle gaze on your face.

"you have pretty eyes." he whispers once you finish the left side.

"oh." you pause, "i- thank you." you turn his face slightly with your hand, letting it linger on his jaw before you start drawing again.

mitch is still occupied, now just with john tavares and his kids instead of his skates. with that in mind, simon inches his hand over his thigh. once close enough, his index finger reaches out and gently strokes the outside of your leg. "welcome." he mumbles.

you tense from where you stand between his spread legs. his gentle touch has you feeling jittery in the best possible way. when he pulls away you try not to frown.

"all done," you mutter, pulling up the mask to its original spot. the black marks almost blend into the edge of the material and it has you biting back a giggle.

"thanks," he replied, standing to his full height, "how can I repay you?"

at first you just laugh off his flirty remark, but then you think of an opportunity for content do you look up at him all big and doe eyes. simon swallows harshly as he looks at you, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. "can you do me favour?"

"anything," he gulps immediately.

"I need you to do like a minute long live on the tiktok account," you stated. he looks a bit hesitant at first so you sigh, "please?" you notice a black smudge on his jersey from where he slapped it earlier, and you reach out and start rubbing the mark away. you don't know if it was your touch on him or you plea but he agrees.

Part Two:

"is it just us here today?" are the first words that come out of simon's mouth when he enters the blue room.

the sudden voice makes you jump, head spinning around like a swivel, but you relax when you see it's just him. simon is in his usual get up of a leaf branded sweatshirt, shorts and his compression socks.

"james is on his way." you answer, fiddling with the lighting off to the side of the room, trying to get the proper tone for the camera. "aren't you cold?"

he hums, "eh, i'll be okay."

you smile, "okay," you hum in a sing song tone. you finish with the lights and move to the gray couch in the center of the room. fluffing the rogers branded pillows, you can feel simon watching you. you straighten up and spin around to find him, in fact, admiring you.

"stop staring at me to distract me," you laugh through an exhale, moving back towards the camera.

"oh, I'm not staring at you to distract you." simon mumbles. just as he goes to take a step closer to you, james opens the door, balancing his open laptop on one arm and his coffee on the other.

simon moves away from you to seem less suspicious (even though james knows about every conversation you and him have shared ((unbeknownst to simon of course)).

you brush past to help james with his things, your knitted sweater brushing against simon's chest on the way.

james takes charge with the video, which you're glad about. you're not sure if you could control your crush enough to keep composed for a video your boss has to approve before james edits. although you don't ask any questions, simon always makes sure to look at you when answering. he even winks in your direction after he nails the milk game, which is just...too much.

the video wraps up after he does (not well) the 10 seconds challenge. james leaves the room after he claims he needs to run up to his office before the next player gets there, but you know he's just being sneaky and trying to give you both a second alone.

you grab your bag off the floor below one of the tables in the room. "si," you start, "i've, um, got something for you."

simon finishes folding up the blanket he'd pulled out from behind the couch. he smirks at your words and raises his brows. "yeah?"

you nod. it's too late to back down now, you think. you grab ahold of the maple leafs branded tin and wave it in his direction.

"what's this?" he questions. long fingers pull the lid off to reveal 6 chocolate chip cookies. the smell wafts through the air and he moans. "Did you make these?"

you flush at the sound of his groan. ever since you were little you've loved baking. it's your love language. your grandma has taught you one of her easiest cookie recipes and ever since you'd made them at any given opportunity. when james mentioned for simon's blue room video he was going to create some sort of milk related challenge - you didn't think twice about tossing a batch of cookies in the oven. "yeah, I thought because of the milk..." you stop as you watch him take a big bite. his face changes and you wince. "are they not good? I'm sorry."

simon shakes his head and swallows his mouthful, "no, no. they're good, fuck, they're great!"

"really?" you blush, "it's a simple recipe really, thought it be nice to go with the milk and-"

"I thought I was trying to win you over here, not the other way around." he takes another cookie and shoves the whole thing in his mouth.

you forget about his comment when the cookie starts falling out of his lips and you laugh, trying to catch the crumbs with your hands. "si!" you laugh gently when a chocolate chip falls to the carpet.

he flushes fondly at the use of the nickname, chewing slowly. "you gunna have one? or are you going to make me eat all alone?"

you roll your eyes and reach into the tin. you pause with the cookie by your lips, eyes meeting simon's once again. he nods and gestures to the cookie. so, you take a bite and fight the urge to groan.

as simon looks down to brush cookies off his chest, you take a moment to really admire him. you really think everything about him is perfect. his skin, his hair, his lips and even the damn cookie crumb on the corner of his mouth. suddenly, he catches you and you look away immediately.

you don't notice the way he smiles brightly at that.

the door is pushed open and you jump away from simon, your once close proximity now feet apart. william nylander is oblivious to the tension and smiles, "where'd you get the cookies from?" the swede tries to reach in the tin and grab one but simon smacks his hand.

"hey! get your own, these are my cookies."

willy laughs, "what! where'd you get them?"

"from someone special," simon sends you a quick wink while william is busy looking around the room.

Part Three (A):

filming the team playing keep up before warm-ups had always been your favourite content to get. it's the only part of a game day that wasn't super tense, and the players would crack jokes with you and each other all while having fun.

plus, it doesn't hurt when they loose the ball and simon gets lifted up or climbs to retrieve the ball and his shorts get all tight showing off his butt and thighs.

this away game was no different, and a small group of players gathered by one of the staircases and were kicking around the ball.

you'd been distracted by a member of the coaching staff sneaking behind you so you weren't looking and the ball had been kicked by simon. it had hit the wall infront of him, the force of his movement propelled the ball off the wall and right towards you.

thankfully, you didn't drop the team's phone when the soccer ball hit you in the face. you did wince though, your free hand coming up to clutch your nose. you can hear a few players concerning voices over the drumming in your ears.

you're too focused on not crying infront of the maple leaf team when simon jogs up the small flight of stairs to reach you. he grabs ahold of your face, tilting your head back.

"i'm so sorry," he rushes, "are you hurting bad?"

"i'll be fine," you insist. you take your hand away from your nose and thankfully it doesn't feel broken. "am I bleeding?" you question him. you flare your nostrils at him the best you can with the dull pain.

simon's ocean eyes dance over your entire face, checking for any injuries. "no," he mumbles, "not bleeding." he knaws on his lip and his thumb strokes against your cheek, "I didn't think the ball would come back and hit you, i swear. i'm so sorry."

"anything to get my attention, huh si?" you tease him. finally his eyes leave your beat red nose and find your eyes. a smile overtakes his lips and he breaths loudly.

"anything." he insists.

"is she okay?" tyler bertuzzi says behind you both.

"y/n?" somebody who sounds like mitch marner ask's in concern.

"i'm okay!" you call out. nobody can see you past their defenceman's broad back. which is good, because they'd probably ask questions about the way he was holding you and looking at you...and the way you looked back. "you should probably let go of me," you whisper.

simon notices how there's no tone of willingness in what you tell him, but he nods regardless. he releases your face and turns back to his teammates. "she's all good."

Part Three (B):

you're already set up on the ice with james when the players start making their way onto the rink. james has taken on getting the more aesthetically pleasing content for the blueprint series on the youtube channel, where as you get to do what you do best and make the players do stupid things for the fans (and your own) enjoyment.

"here comes lover boy," james whispers out of the side of his mouth. he's looking through the lense of the camera when he says it, so even though you know who he's referring to, you follow his eye sight.

simon looks so good. he looks like he's just got a fresh hair cut and recently trimmed his facial hair. he's laughing at something jake mccabe said as he steps into the ice. his tattoos are peeking out his jersey sleeve and he's not wearing his guard so you can see all the muscles in his neck.

he doesn't see you, him and his defensive partner too busy skating over to the benches set up for the team photo. you're upset momentarily, but then matthew knies skates over so you can mic him up and you get distracted.

the last of the team finally makes it onto the ice a few minutes later, and the staff starts to make their way down.

simon hears your laugh before he even sees you. he spins on his skates and searches through the small crowd of his teammates and staff until he can locate you. the first thing he notices is how you're wearing your hair slicked back into a ponytail. he likes that style the most out of anything he's seen you do because he can really see your face this way. you've got on a nice pair of jeans on and a cropped blazer that sits right against the waist band of your pants. gold jewelry shimmering under the lights and you're probably wearing your usual scent and -

"dude, what are you staring at? it's been five minutes" bobby mcmann breaks simon out of his trance.

he spins to his left and shrugs, "um, what?" simon hopes he doesn't look too flustered - no doubt flushing from the embarrassment of being caught.

just as bobby goes to speak again, you interrupt. "hey guys," you call, shuffling over in your sneakers until you're close enough, "I need to get some .5 pictures. si, can you help me out?"

"of course," he mutters. simon reaches to grab onto the phone, and his fingers brush against yours at the exchange. at the touch, he frowns slightly, "your hands are freezing," he states, "I'm not that cold, I can give you my gloves if you want."

"i won't be able to hold the phone, si."

"well, technically i'm the one holding the phone." he teases.

you laugh once, "ill pass on the sweaty stinky gloves."

simon scoffs and sends bobby a wide look, the ladder laughing at your banter. "they're not stinky or sweaty!"

"just...come here," you hiss and he makes his way over. you start instruct him how to take the photo of bobby in a way to get the most humorous angle. then you repeat the process with bobby when he reaches up to take simon's photo. then when bobby hands the phone back - to simon - the french man makes sure to take a photo of you with the lense and you immediately push his arm.

laughing, bobby skates away and leaves you and simon by yourselves. once he notices nobody within the general vicinity, simon takes no time leaning in close to you with that smirk you know all too well. "you look so beautiful today."

at first, you're too distracted by how good he smells, but once his words register you can't help but smile. with a playful roll of your eyes, you tug the wrist of his jersey, "c'mon flirty pants, we got pictures to take."

he starts to skate away slowly. it's rather pathetic the way you're shuffling along the ice after him, and the sight has simon chuckling breathy. he spins back to you and offers his arm. "c'mon slow poke, we have pictures to take." he mimics your earlier words teasingly.

"ha ha," you huff sarcastically, reaching out until you can wrap your small hands around his large bicep. once you're holding tight, simon starts guiding you both along."there's knies," you state, nodding towards the winger. matthew knies perks up when you call his name, slowly making his way over to you both.

while he's still out of earshot, you send a firm squeeze to simon's bicep to grab his attention. without looking, you mutter "don't say anything that will get us in trouble, matthew is mic'ed up."

with a quick nod, simon looks down at you, "i'd never."

the small time spent before the group photos is the most fun either you or simon have had in a long time. simon doesn't leave your side until it's time for the picture to be taken. he's upset when he's ushered away to the benches and he's even more upset that you're sitting nowhere near him for the photo.

after the pictures, it's a mess of bodies leaving the ice, and simon doesn't catch you before you leave the rink. he watches the back of your head as you leave the rink and move back towards the hallways. he immediately follows to try and get to you.

instead of taking the tunnel down to the locker room, simon turns the opposite direction. his skates hit the concrete flooring and in that moment he doesn't care that he will have to sharpen them extra before next game - too busy calling out for you.

at the sound of your name, you stop your conversation with james and turn around to watch simon hobble his way over to you, the anti-skate flooring, limiting his strides. your brows furrow and you stop moving. "hey...everything okay?"

simon is glad james didn't stop to wait with you and that nobody else is in earshot. he comes to a towering stop before you and exhales, "I want to take you on a date."

"what?" you whisper.

he smiles slightly, "y/n, i'm tired of only seeing you at our job and I want to, fuck, I don't know, go out with you."

you take a deep breath and look around to make sure body has come close. "si, i'm not sure..."

"just," he sighs, "one date. just one and if after that you're still unsure then...we can stop."

you knaw on your lip and briefly weigh your pros and cons. on one hand, all your earlier worries could still be the case. a slot in his schedule he's just looking to fill -or a task to conquer, possibly only fun to have. on the other hand...it might not be any of that.

"okay," you smile, "one date."

Part Four (A):

you get a text from simon the night of the team picture day: just hours after he asked you out and enchanted numbers.

what are you doing tomorrow night?

you resist the urge to scream into a pillow and kick your feet with excitement.

y/n

tomorrow, like you, i'll be at the arena doing my job

babe 😐

AFTER that

y/n

nothing

wait for me after the game and we're going out

so sure, maybe you dressed a tad nicer than you usually would for work. the march air was still chilly in toronto, but that stop you from slipping on your favourite black pencil skirt. you paired it with some nice booties and high necked black top with your trusty oversized denim jacket.

you regret the choice of not wearing tights as you wait by simon's car in the parking garage. the chill tickling up your legs and making you shutter. it isn't long before he comes out the elevator, hair slightly damp. you're surprised he showered that quickly and got dressed again. he's wearing the striped burgundy suit that you love on him and you feel yourself smile at him.

"hey," he greets happily once he approaches, "weren't waiting long, were you?"

you shake your head, "not long at all." he throws his things in his backseat and then stands infront of you. slowly, he looks you up and down once and licks his bottom lip. you gulp gently, "am I dressed okay? I didn't know where we were going so I thought-"

"you look amazing." simon interrupts. he reaches past you and opens the passenger door. "ready to go?"

you blink, "yeah."

once simon starts driving, the nerves you thought would come along with the date never started. in fact, you feel more comfortable than you ever have with a man. there's a taylor swift song playing quietly through the speakers, and if that wasn't a sign you were in the right spot - you weren't sure what else could be.

simon flicks his signal on, his blinker flashing on the dark pavement. he looks over at you just as you do him, and he smirks. "are you not going to ask where we are going?"

you let your head fall against the head rest and you shrug your shoulders softly. "maybe I like surprises."

he exhales a laugh, "alright." he makes a right turn and says, "we are almost there."

you look out your window just as you pass trinity bellwood park. you fight the urge to smile and look back over to simon. he's smiling while he looks out to the road ahead, no doubt remembering the same conversation shared between you as you did too.

moments later he pulls up to a small cafe. the sign in the window says there open until 11, and it's just past 10 as he parks. "I deal coffee & wine," you state, "are we getting coffee or wine?"

simon unbuckles his seat belt, "whatever you want."

as soon as simon pulls open the glass door of the cafe, you're hit with the bitter scent of coffee and grape wine. the warmth of the eatery enveloped your skin and you sigh happily. "smells so good."

simon laughs in agreement. "wanna look at the menu?" he whispers into your ear.

you flush and nod. he places a hand on the small of your back and pushes you closer to the counter. a young woman behind the long counter top greets you both and waits at the till for you.

"what do you recommend?" you ask quietly, slightly leaning back into simon's chest as you look up at him.

his thumb moves against your back. "you like sweet things, so probably the hot chocolate or chai tea. they're nice and sweet."

you don't question how he knows your taste, because you aren't suprised. instead you smile, "mhmm i could definitely go for a hot chocolate."

you move towards the cash and order the drink. simon adds his own drink: an americano coffee. you see one more butter croissant in the display case and your eyes light up. "ou, can we also have that croissant?"

the woman laughs gently at your enthusiasm and adds it to your order. simon pays wordlessly and moves you both over to the side as they make your fresh drinks. you groan as the barista adds a pile of whipped cream on your drink and simon smiles down at you.

a moment later you two are making your way to the back of the eatery. you notice there's only one another person sitting in, but that makes sense for the time.

"thanks for this," you smile once he takes a seat across from you, holding up your steaming white mug.

"of course," he smiles, immediately taking a sip of his coffee. "thank you for coming out with me, I know it's late."

"trust me," you hum, "I understand the late schedule and busy day. we work together, remember?"

you tease gently. simon is tonguing his cheek, leaning forward on his elbows to get closer. "okay cheeky."

you laugh behind your hand, eyes twinkling as you look over at him.

"I never would've thought when we first met you would've been this quippy."

you shrug, "i'm full of suprises."

simon laughs gently, "yes, i've realized that," you laugh quietly at his statement. "it's one of my favourite things about you."

"oh really?" you raise a brow at him, reaching into the branded paper bag to pull out the flakey pastry. you rip it in half and set the second half back on top of the bag. "what else is there?"

"mhmm," simon rest's his head in his palm, "obviously when you're bossy."

"obviously," you tease, taking a bite of your croissant.

"also when you blush - but that's another obvious one." your raise one brow at him with a small smile. his face falls ever so slightly, "my absolute favourite thing about you though is how dedicated you are. how even when i'm annoying and distracting you, you're always focusing on yourself and your job. you're also really sweet and beautiful and nice..."

your face changes into a soft delicate expression and simon clears his throat, "or maybe the cookies, i'm not sure yet."

you scrunch your nose and nudge his knee under the table. "you're ridiculous." he grabs your ankle before you can pull your leg away, his palm warm as it encloses on your skin, holding you to him.

softly, he strokes along the back of your calf with his thumb and you swallow your food gently.

"you love it through," simon teases.

you hum, "to be decided."

he laughs loudly and the one barista looks over to your table. you send her an apologetic smile but she just smirks like she understands.

"are you going to eat your part of the croissant?" you ask him, brows raised as you push the paper closer to him.

"that's for me?" he smiles.

"yeahhhh," you smile, "i'm a giver, si. I also wasn't going to make you pay for food you don't get to at least try."

his long fingers grab the pastry and bring it up to his mouth. "well, i'm a taker." he takes a big bite and moans at the buttery flavour. you shush him through a laugh.

"we're in public, don't moan!"

"why?" he teases after swallowing, "it turning you on?"

"stop!" you laugh. he joins in your laughter, finishing off the croissant with only one more bite. he dusts his hands off by sliding them together and you try not to frown when he lets go of your ankle. you bring your foot back to your own side of the table and simon frowns. instead of saying something, his dress shoes slide over to you and he locks his own ankles around your one leg.

"can I ask you something serious?" he questions.

you flip your straight hair over your shoulder and nod, "course."

"what's the real reason you didn't want me flirting with you. when we first talked about this back in january, you seemed so scared of my affection."

you clear your throat and look down into your mug.

"you don't have to answer if you really don't want to," simon hums, "I just want to make sure i wasn't making you uncomfortable."

"you never have," you say immediately, eyes meeting his again. he's looking at you so gently you sigh, "it's just...I didn't know how to act around you. until about 10 months ago, I was in a relationship and...obviously lost my touch at flirting and that feeling of being around somebody new as a single person."

"I understand," he nods, "how long were you together?"

you laugh bitterly, "almost four years," you look down at your half empty mug again, "but it wasn't healthy. he wasn't very nice and we were always arguing. he cheated on me with our friend."

"fuck," he curses, "i'm sorry to hear that."

you just shrug, "even with all that, I really thought we were soulmates or something, I don't know, it sounds silly."

"no it doesn't," simon hums, "you probably learned a lot from that relationship, and that's what's important."

"you're right." you take another sip of your now luke warm drink.

after a moment he says, "if it's any consolation, your flirting worked on me. I was smitten as soon as you opened your mouth."

you blush, "is that right?"

"oh yeah."

he catches sight of the clock behind you and hisses, "they're gunna close soon, we should probably head home."

you try not to sound disappointed as you agree. he leads you out the restaurant and into his car soon after, and the conversation doesn't stop the entire ride back to the scotiabank arena parking garage. simon scans his badge as you approach the gates, driving slowly until he reaches you car.

"here's me," you hum.

"here's you," he muses. the car keeps running as he gets out of his vehicle and rounds to your side of the car. he pulls open the door and you climb out with a smile.

"well," you say, "thank you again for tonight, si, seriously i had a really good time."

"yeah?" he mutters gently. "what was your favourite part?"

you lick your lips as you catch a whiff of his cologne, "I can't say..."

simon laughs gently, "what? c'mon."

shrugging up at him, you try and contain your smile. "not telling."

simon breaths that laugh once again, blue eyes not once starting from yours. "you're killing me here, jolie fille."

the native tongue has you feeling tingly. it sounds so beautiful coming from his lips and you gently sway towards him. "what's that mean?"

he bites his bottom lip ever so slightly, "pretty girl."

immediately, you feel hot from his compliment. you giggle gently, hands flying up to cover your face and press against your burning red cheeks.

"nuh uh," simon teases, "no hiding," he continues as he grabs onto your wrists delicately, prying your hands away to uncover your face. "I wanna see you."

your lips go tight, and you stare up at him. he's now standing chest to chest with you, staring down at you with a soft smile. he lets go of your wrists and slowly, he brings one of his hands back up to your face. gently, he runs a finger over your cheekbone, no doubt a trial of pink following his touch.

you watch his face in anticipation. just as he reaches your hairline, his entire hand moves and caresses the side of your face as he holds you in his palm. the sounds of traffic outside seem to no longer exist, you can't hear anything besides the thumping of your heart and the soft breathing from simon.

you watch as his eyes wander down from your eyes, to then your cheeks and then finally your lips. simon swallows harshly and licks onto his bottom lip. his other hand finds the other side of your face, and he is holding onto you gently.

your heart is racing as you stare up at him. you feel so small in his hold and nothing short of beautiful. his palms are warm against your face, and you wonder is his heart is racing just like yours is.

he finally meets your gaze again, and you notice how wide his pulls are blown. the small rim of blue that surrounds them are an even darker shade than normal, the colour resembling the deepest part of the ocean - and you wanted to dive right in.

simon wets his lips again, thumbs gently stroking the patch of skin right before your ears. standing in the middle of the parking garage is never a place you thought your body would feel tingly and pulse with nerves and excitement- but here you were.

"what?" you asks you gently, breaking the tension between you.

"I can't stop thinking about kissing you," simon mumbles in a low tone.

you could feel yourself go weak, and your tongue slips out between your lips to wet your mouth slowly. "and what are you going to do about it?"

there's a ghost of a smile on his lips right before simon leans down into your space. his nose nudges against yours twice and you take a deep breath. slowly, your hand finds his abdomen and slips under his suit jacket - keeping yourself grounded with the touch.

then finally, he leans in the last centimetre and connects your mouths together. his lips expertly move against your own and when his tongue prods for entrance, you let him in. you can taste the lingering americano coffee in his mouth and you whine against him.

simon's brows pull together at the sounds, one of his hands sliding into your hair and pulling you even tighter against his body.

your free hand finds his face, and you press your palm softly against his skin as you hold him to you.

when you separate, you're both breathless, chests heaving as you stand together and clam down. then, simon smiles brightly, thumb coming down to rub against your swollen lips. the action has you grinning.

"your cars still running," you whisper through your smile.

he laughs shakily and that tickles against your skin. "I know," simon mumbles. he reluctantly pulls his forehead away from where it rested against yours, straightening his back to his full height. your hand falls from his face and rests against his chest.

once he can finally look at your entire face again - all rose tinted lips, flushed cheeks, glimmering eyes and messy hair from where he was holding, he smirks. "i've got to be here early tomorrow...you work tomorrow?"

you nod just as you pull your hand away from his chest, "I do."

"good," simon whispers. he leans in once more and places another heavy kiss against your lips. when he pulls away and you've become even more flustered, he slowly releases your face."i'll see you tomorrow then."

"yeah," your teeth push into your wet swollen bottom lip in a way to contain the embarrassingly large grin you're about to get, "see you tomorrow."

Part Four (B):

the jet was quiet. although, that was expected with a late night flight after a time zone change. this short road trip was especially hard, considering it was three hours behind toronto time and the games had been rough ones.

most of the team was sleeping, or keeping to themselves quietly. just the occasional person engaging in conversation with their seat mate, or somebody getting up to use the bathroom.

beside you, james was sleeping. his head tilted down, and mouth slightly open. his active facial expressions were keeping you rather entertained- it was much more amusing that watching dylan, your boss, across from you edit on his computer.

on your leg, your personal phone vibrates, indicating a text message. the bright light is momentarily blinding, and you squint harshly until you can swipe your brigtness all the way down.

your eyes read the message quickly, and the words have you shifting in your seat. thankfully, dylan is still engrossed in his work so he doesn't see the way you've flushed red.

you peek down the isle of the jet as best you can without drawing too much attention. you catch simon's eyes almost instantly, clearly he was doing the same thing.

he smirks all hot and syrupy at you. he waves his phone in your direction once and then starts to type. a moment later, your phone buzzes again and you're met with his previous message as well as his new one.

i'm thinking about your lips right now

you look so pretty

you smile at your screen.

y/n

such a flirt. you're being obvious, you know?

you watch him shrug to himself, eyes still on his phone.

you're the one who was leaning out of your seat like a mad woman to try and get a glance at me

you roll your eyes playfully.

y/n

and I found you already looking at me

touché

you find each others eyes again. to keep his smile contained, he bites onto his bottom lip, unashamedly admiring you from across the plane.

you send him a gentle smirk, resting your head against your palm as you stare back. although you don't want to get called out from staring at simon, the rush of it all has it feeling extra dangerous. you mind flashes back to your first kiss with simon only a few days ago, and your body flushes again. although you've shared many kisses since then - it didn't stop you or him from wanting to do it over and over again.

as if he can read your mind, your phone vibrates again.

can we sneak off to the bathroom and make out?

you bite your lip.

y/n

definitely not. but when we get home...

Part Four (C):

simon's hands are warm against your exposed legs. his finger tips dip underneath the edge of your pyjama shorts as you straddle his thighs.

his lips pull away from your kiss, wet as they trial down your neck. he sucks onto your sweet spot and nibbles the skin there. the sensation has you whimpering, grinding down onto his jean covered crotch.

after your date a few days back, you went home and screamed happily into your pillow. never in your 23 years of life have you been kissed and held so perfectly. simon knew exactly how to kiss you in a way that was everything you craved and more. the following morning when you saw him, it took everything in your willpower to not pull him into a storage closet and do it all again.

so after a few excruciating hours of working, simon had the evening off as a healthy scratch. which would usually bum him out, but as you say on top of him half naked, he couldn't care less.

underneath your shorts, he grabs your ass, pulling you over his hardening dick in a way that has you both breathless.

"fuck," you whimper, "I need you so bad."

he smirks slightly. his eyes dart down to his crotch, small streak of arousal left from your grinding. "yeah, I can tell."

you're not even embarrassed about it, and if anything, it turns you on more.

"I need you too," simon mumbles, lips touching yours as he speaks before pulling you in for another hot kiss. the hand that was once squeezing your bottom slips back down until he rounds it to the front of your body.

delicately, his hand slips past your shorts to find your lacey underwear. expertly, his fingers manoeuvre the material out of the way, leaving you exposed under your shorts.

you moan in unison and you pull away from the kiss. simon slides two fingers through your wetness, the sticky arousal coating his fingers. "fuck, you're so wet."

the words have you moaning quietly. then, using the same two fingers now coated with your slick, he prods them into your dripping hole. your quiet moans turns into one of pornographic level, walls clenching down on his long digits.

"si, I need you in me so bad."

"fuck, yeah," he agrees in a mumble. his fingers don't stop their skillful pace, and if he keeps going you'll surely cum. "wanna take you to the bed though, bébé."

"mhmm okay." unfortunately, simon's fingers slip out of your cunt. "let's go before I combust."

he chuckles gently at your exaggeration but doesn't hesitate in picking you up. your legs wrap around his strong torso and you can feel his dick hit your ass cheek.

you bite your lip at the feeling of him poking into you. thankfully you're in a studio apartment and you two skip the awkward stumble down a hallway to a bedrooom. within 10 steps, simon is dropping you down on your mattress.

you reach forward and unbuckle his belt looped through his jeans. you're still flat on your back as you work, and simon leans over to kiss your lips messily. the hand he isn't using to hold himself up, comes down to the waistband of your sleep shorts and effortlessly pulls them down.

he pulls away from the kiss in favour of sitting back on his knees. smirking, he begins to pull down your shorts and panties. once you're naked from the waist down, simon grabs your hips, pulling you until your wet core is flush against his clothed crotch. you both grunt at the friction.

"get naked si, before I start touching myself."

he smirks, "bossy."

you don't have time to bite back because he pulls off his shirt, revealing his toned stomach and arms, skin littered with tattoos that have you drooling.

"fuck," you moan. as you take off your shirt, simon discards his jeans and boxers, leaving him completely naked before you. your nipples tighten at the sight of his hard and heavy dick - his tip an angry red with a smear of precum on the slit. he pumps it a few times.

simon feels like he could cum already at the sight of your hazy eyes and flush face. "you ready?" he questions gently, slowly crawling back over your body.

"shit, yes," you moan. "please, si."

with your go ahead, he begins by nudging the tip of his dick against your puffy throbbing clit. the sensation is heavenly and your head pushes further into your bedding, a mewl leaving your mouth.

then he guides his member to your dripping entrance. the feeling of your warm hole and sticky juices on his tip have him shuddering and he doesn't waste anymore time - fully sliding into you.

"fuck," you moan loudly at the full feeling.

simon hisses at the sensation of your walls hugging him so sweetly. he curses and grabs your leg with one of his hands, manoeuvring it up and over his shoulder. the new angle allows him to push his dick even deeper into your pusssy.

you mewl even louder at the feeling. your positive reaction has simon smirking and he finally starts thrusting into you. slowly at first, pulling the entire way out before pushing back in. but then he starts pushing into you harder, not fully leaving before he pounds back into you.

"you feel so good," he mutters through his grunts, his large hand squeezing your hip. "fuck, can you feel that? your walls pulling me back in everytime baby? it's like you're made for me."

you moan loudly at his words, the sound of his dick sliding in and out of you is so gushy and hot that it's overwhelming - the coil in your belly already tightening. using the hand that wasn't griping his bicep, you bring him down to meet for a kiss. it's all teeth and panting but it's just what you needed. "i'm gunna cum," you mumble on his mouth.

"yeah," he encourages, "c'mon." simon bring his thumb down to your clit and with two full circles on the bundle of nerves, you're cumming with a shout, walls clamping down on his thick cock as he continues his pumping.

it's just a few thrust later, simon's hips and thrusting come to a halt buried deep inside you. he moans into your neck - hot ropes of cum coating your insides as he finishes.

"fuck," he moans, looking down to where your bodies connect. it's a mess between you, all glistening skin and wet hair flat to skin. he thinks he's never seen anything sexier.

you smirk as he lifts his head and meets your eyes. finding your lips, he brings you in for a chaste kiss.

"i'm gunna have to shower," you whisper against his lips. "wanna join me?"

simon smirks breathlessly, "lead the way."

after another round in the shower, simon can't help but admire you. you both have wet hair, and your skin is all dewey from the water and your eyelashes look extra long. you're so beautiful.

there was a time where simon wondered if you would ever properly relax in his presence. like, truly be relaxed.

sure, he loved watching you flush from his nicknames and flirty remarks. he didn't mind the way you stuttered sometimes when he said things, or the way you nervously advert his gaze. simon loved it all. he knows it means you're making progress and you like him - which is all he wants.

currently, simon can only think about that as you both brush your teeth in the mirror - making eye contact every couple seconds and grinning like you've been together for your whole lives.

you're both only half dressed, you without pants and simon without his shirt. you've opted for stealing his shirt though, which simon thinks is even sexier than you naked.

in this moment, after the sex and the kissing - this moment, simon knows that you're truly comfortable with him. looking at you as you lean over and spit out your toothpaste, simon can't believe there was a time you weren't.

Part Five:

you're pretty sure you're skipping. which, yeah, in theory is embarrassing - but you can't help it. thoughts of the night before run freely through your head, phantom touches and kisses currently grazing your skin.

simon spent the night at your place, and he even drove you both to the leafs facility together. like usual, you had some editing to do up in your office, but this time before packing up, you had printed out all the proper paperwork for a workplace relationship. you were planning on bringing it up to simon when you both got back to his car, so you thought you'd just head down and wait for him at the locker room.

quietly, you near the open doors of the locker room - careful not to draw too much attention to your presence. thankfully the halls are empty, and it's not too loud. you slow in your steps right outside and you can hear a few voices inside the room. smiling, you hear simon's distinctive accent and laughter.

stopping fully, you hear a different voice. "-finally happened then?" they ask. you can't recognize the voice and don't catch the full scentence.

suddenly, simon laughs just once, "I don't kiss and tell."

"look at his face!" somebody different cheers, "you sly bastard. you did it...I knew you had an extra pep in your game today."

slowly, your expression changed to one of confusion to one of displeasure. you blink hard as tears begin to sting your eyes.

the original voice you heard cheers, "we've only been waiting since you brought her up in january-"

the frantic beating of your heart increases- they had to be talking about you. you and simon and what happened - not only last night but everything since january. your stomach plummets to the ground. all your original doubts about getting involved with simon start rushing back and now they don't sound so stupid.

you don't stick around any longer and turn on your heels. you don't have it in you yet to feel angry, all you can focus on is getting the hell out of the arena before you breakdown.

shakily, you pull out your personal phone and order an uber - exiting the arena.

simon pulls his sweatshirt over his head, momentarily hiding his flushed cheeks from his teammates.

jake mccabe sends him a knowing grin at the sight of his blush. jake cheers at the sight, in the midst of removing his elbow pads. "we've only been waiting since you brought her up in january. you're obsessed with her."

simon laughs gently, one of his hands rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly."obsessed is crazy." it's not crazy and he knows that. because simon has been obsessed with you since he's first seen you. at first, he thought he was being subtle with his longing glances and flirting - but then joseph woll picked up on it, then bobby and then jake and now it's not a secret.

bobby snickers and tosses his sweaty jersey into the team branded laundry bin sitting in the middle of the room, "fitting for somebody who's crazy in loveeeee." he sings.

"she's a nice girl benny," jake says to his defensive partner, "im glad things are progressing between the two of you. you just need to sit her down and really tell her how you feel. none of that 'just flirting' casual stuff from the beginning- because we both know that was never what you wanted - you don't want to give her mixed signals."

in the few months simon has been with the leafs, he's always admired jake on and off the ice. he was an amazing teammate, an outstanding defence man and always knew the right thing to say. this time was no exception and simon hummed in agreement, "you're right," he states, "she's probably waiting for me at my car right now...I should go and drive us back to one of our places and just...confess how much I like her...because i really fucking like her."

"you sappy piece of shit," bobby mutters with a grin, "go before she gets sick of waiting for you and walks home."

simon laughs gently, "if I bring up that 15 page document I want us to fill out she probably will walk home." he tosses his hat over his damp hair. "i'll see you guys later"

when simon doesn't see you waiting against or in his car, he frowns. then he panics, spinning around to look at his surroundings for any sight of you.

confused and worried, he quickly retrieves his phone out of his small duffle bag, immediately pulling up your contact.

simon

hey, I thought you were going to wait for me? did you get a ride home? everything okay?

it's five long minutes of watching the screen in search of your reply. he knaws on his lip anxiously as he looks and waits. then his phone dings, your nickname appearing.

y/n/n 🤍

didn't feel well.

simon

want me to come over with anything?

y/n/n 🤍

I need space for a little bit, simon.

his heart comes to what feels like a halting stop. something is definitely up. your last text message was staring at him tauntingly, and the urge to go comfort you was overwhelming him. at first, he types another message but reluctantly deletes it.

after all, if you're really not feeling well, you're probably trying to rest and the last thing he wants is to annoy you or disturb your sleep before your shift at the game.

but then james is the one recording all the pre-game content - you nowhere to be found.

the following morning, you don't reach out. when he catches sight of you during early morning drills, you don't look like you've been off sick. you also don't look at him. simon watches as you ignore him completely.

jake sends him a sympathetic look once he sees your face in comparison to simon's but simon can't even decipher what's happening. his heart breaks and he feels confused and defeated.

Epilogue:

7 days. an entire week since you left the arena and simon in a frenzy of tears and heartbreak. an entire week of ignoring the french man you've fallen for. paying no mind to him, or filming him for content, avoiding even his closest friends. you've ignored all of it.

after overhearing simon and a few teammates discussing you and your relationship in the locker room, you called james. in the back of an uber as you sobbed, james listened as you told him everything. how it sounded like you were nothing more than a lay: another girl who he set his sights on.

"look at his face"

"it definitely happened"

"talking about it since january"

his teammates chimes danced in echoed around your head, taunting you and your stupidity. you had finally opened yourself up to a man again since your previous relationship - finally let your guard down enough and finally feel completely free with simon and for what.

you weren't more to him than just a fucking notch on his belt. you're glad you didn't stick around to hear the rest of the conversation because you didn't even want to think about what else could've been said.

that night you had james cover your shift. you couldn't even fathom being in the same arena as simon after the wound was still so fresh. the next morning you avoided him completely - you didn't even crack when you felt his ocean eyes burning into your figure - you couldn't look: wouldn't look.

that first morning, you cried in your car after clocking out for the day. james had offered to handle the parts of your job that required up close content with the team, while you opted to stay up in the offices to edit.

the off chances you were around the team, it was never without james. you avoided one on one interaction with most of the players, and avoided even glancing towards simon.

the first two days, he tried to make his way towards you. but both times you left before he could reach you. he didn't deserve your time and you definitely didn't want to hear whatever pity excuse he would come up with.

on the 7th day of ignoring simon, your heart was still broken. you didn't work, so you sat on your apartment couch. your tv is on mute, some home renovation show is the only thing illuminating your dark living space.

the leafs game ended an hour before, but you didn't watch. you only knew because james asked if you wanted company - which you declined in favour of finishing up some editing for tomorrows uploads.

you're mid audio adjustment when there's two quiet knocks echoing through your apartment. you pause and wait for a moment. but then two more knocks follow and you sigh.

tossing your throw blanket off, you're already prepared to lend mrs. tomlinson, your elderly neighbour, some milk for her nightly tea. it was often her husband forget to pick up diary when he went grocery shopping, and she ended up on your doorstep everytime.

"milk again, mrs. tom-" you freeze with the door half open.

simon looks up from the floor at the sound of your voice. he is still in his suit, hair washed and damp as the scent of apple shampoo floods your senses.

the sight of him then has you panicking and you try to shut the door. you're not quick enough and he reaches out, palm flat against the door to stop it from completely closing. "y/n," he mumbles softly, "what is wrong?"

the sound of his voice is too much. all traces of anger, sadness, guilt, disappointment and love come flooding back in. "please leave," you whimper.

he looks heartbroken at your request, shoulders dropping in defeat as he stands in front of you. "did I do something wrong?" simon asks, "I mean- why are you avoiding me? I don't know what happened but it's killing me - you're killing me here."

"i'm killing you?" your voice is strained as you cry.

he exhales a hard breath and runs a hand through his hair frantically. the action leaves his strands messy. "i've been racking my brain for a week trying to figure out what I could've done wrong, and i've come up with nothing." he laughs once in something similar to disbelief, "I thought maybe at first you really were sick and trying to keep distance for my sake. but I quickly realized you were actively ignoring me."

you sigh, eyes shutting momentarily as you beg your emotions to hold on for a little big longer.

finally, you meet simon's eyes properly for the first time in 7 damn days. his are swimming with emotions and you try not to scoff - what could he possibly be emotional about - he should be guilty. he should be on his knees, begging for your forgiveness-

"please, y/n, just tell me what happened and let me fix it."

irritation bubbles into your chest and you subconsciously move closer to him. "I heard you," you state, "in the locker room last week." you're suprised that your voice doesn't waiver or change as you finally admit to him what you know.

instead of the guilty look you expect to take over his sharp features, simon looks at you with confusion. "okay...what did I say?"

you scoff. a tear falls from your eyes and you angrily wipe it away, "you seriously don't remember? 'I don't kiss and tell'," you mimick his words from a week ago. his face changes then, a look of something like embarrassment taking over. angrily, you continue "was I seriously nothing more to you than somebody new to get with?"

his brows pull together, "what-"

"I mean, fuck, simon," you interrupt him, "I opened up to you! I told you about my ex and my doubts about getting into a relationship. I risked my fucking job for you by breaking the rules ! I was ready for that absurdly long conversation with HR for this to work out! I really like you and you didn't even care about me for more than one night?"

simon jumps in quickly, stepping closer to you and past the threshold of your apartment and the hallway. "there has never been a time where you were just a casual thing. especially after you opened up to me, the last thing I would do is switch up on you and abandon what we have."

you shake your head, arms crossing against your chest defensively. "I heard you and your teammates talking about me!"

"then you didn't hear everything!" he interrupts, "in the locker room I was talking about how much I like you and how much progress we've made together! jake and bobby were bugging me about how crazy obsessed I am with you."

"oh? and, what? i'm just supposed to believe you?"

"yes," he replies, "yes! because why would I go through months and months of trying to get you agree to go on one date, if all I wanted was a one time hook up?"

his words have you pausing. sure, if you thought long and hard you probably could come up with a reason why he tried so hard to just fuck you...but then again, maybe you can't come up with a reason. maybe he was telling you the truth. you swallow gently, "I don't know."

"well I do know," he laughs gently, eyes downcast and runs a hand over his head. once he looks up again, your face is wearing a much softer expression than before and simon feels himself becoming slightly breathless. "it's because i'm falling in love with you, y/n."

at his words you body covers itself in goosebumps. your arms fall to your sides, limp and heavy. "you're what?" you mumble. all traces of negative emotions you once felt have disappeared. you can't tell if you want to cry or kiss him.

oblivious to your new emotions, simon continues. "god, it's never just been about flirting with you or just trying to make you blush - those were just the extras that I got the pleasure of having. i've had a crush on since the moment I first saw you back during the pre-season - when you were recording the walk out. when I found out you were the regular social admin for the team, I've never been so excited to be around somebody or spend time with someone. and spending time with you, y/n has been my absolute favourite thing.

I really like you, y/n. hell, like I said, i'm falling in love. and if you're not ready for this right now, then i can wait–"

his words are muffled as you push up onto your tippy toes and press your lips against his. it takes a moment for it to register that you're kissing him, but then he sighs gently against your mouth.

you hold his face in your small hands, tenderly caressing your lips together. simon wraps one of his forearms around you waist, pulling you impossibly closer to his body as his other hand moves to caress the side of your head.

slowly, you pull away breathlessly, "you saw me? at that pre-season game?"

simon nods just as delicately as your breathing, "you were impossible not to notice, y/n." he gives you another kiss, this one quicker than the last. "i'm sorry that I made you believe anything different than my true feelings, I never wanted to hurt you."

you shake your head gently, "i'm sorry for ignoring you. I should've just asked you about what I heard, instead of assuming the worst possible scenario. I feel so silly," you admit, "it's just after everything that happened with my last relationship, god, I had so many doubts about you and your intentions so that one little thing pushed me over the edge."

"don't feel silly," he hums, leaning down for another kiss. simon pulls away slowly and you slightly chase his lips."if I told you about my actual feelings before today, none of this would've happened."

"don't dwell on that," you mumble, "and after this, i'll never assume again. there's no more doubts and i'm leaving my baggage at the door."

"I'll take your baggage always, jolie fille."

the french term of endearment is not forgotten and you smile, leaning back up to re connect your mouths for another euphoric kiss. in that moment you decide you'll never get tired of the way simon kisses you.

you both part to catch your breath.

"so..." you hum after a beat, chest still pounding as you start to regain normal breathing patterns.

"so." simon replies breathless, a grin tugging on his lips.

"you're falling in love with me?" you tease.

"I thought I was pretty obvious about that part," he mumbles sheepishly, the hand that was once on your face coming to rub the back of his neck.

you smile gently up at him, thumbs rubbing against the warm skin of his jawline. "you ready to fill out those 15 pages of paperwork ive been talking about?"

simon's hand lowers slightly from your lower back and down to your ass, affectionately rubbing over the flesh. that flirtatious smirk you love so much appears his face, "i'm always ready."

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howlett-n-morgan · 28 days ago

Text

More Than Words

3. An Advantageous Journey

Logan Howlett x OC!Reader

Series Summary: Having lived for over two hundred years and never having the privilege of human touch is the biggest burden imaginable... until someone comes along with the healing ability to withstand the touch of death.

Chapter Warnings: mild language, mentions of scars and blood, a few traumatic events and ptsd symptoms, mostly fluff in this one guys… but LOGAN IS A WARNING. Oh and also I’m not from Canada and only have one Canadian friend so my apologies if Canada is depicted poorly… she was like ‘it’s just like America except there’s more snow and some people speak French’

Chapter Summary: Going back to Canada is supposed to be a quick trip that benefits Logan’s memory, but upon arriving, he seems to think that a fews days need be spent on diversions.

Word Count: 15.3k (God help me-)

“Then how were they able to cut you up?” Poor phrasing, but he was never one for a gentle touch in his wording. “Same way you were able to,” you reminded him, rolling up your sleeve to show where his claw marks had almost completely healed over. “Adamantium.” “Adamantium? You’re kidding,” he almost found it funny, the irony of it all. He’s the only one who can touch you, but he’s also the only one who can hurt you. “How’d they figure that out?”

The professor was the first one to speak to Logan the morning you both planned on leaving the mansion. Everyone was made aware of this, but few people understood why it was so necessary. Even Scott, who had endured some of the same treatment as you and Logan, did not know how to justify such a spontaneous trip in the midst of all the chaos surrounding mutants. Especially after the recent situation with Magneto.

It could be dangerous, but above all things, it could also bring answers. And Logan needed answers. About who he was, what he did, and where he’s supposed to go, now. The pain from his nightmares has subsided only a small bit while being here with everyone. He wants to make them go away for good.

When Charles sits him down in the study that morning, he thinks he understands why. You’re a very important member of the team. He wants to make sure you return, and without a scratch. It makes sense in his mind… but the professor has other ideas for the conversation.

“How long do you both plan on being away?” He asks, keeping a tether on Logan’s mind in case he is even the slightest bit dishonest.

“Not sure,” he began with a sigh, sitting back into the seat he’d been given. “I guess it depends.”

“On what, exactly?” Charles kept his questioning thorough, but not for the reason of interrogating him.

“On what we find.” Logan shrugged his shoulders and raised a brow. He really had no idea what he was going into when you said you’d take him to Stryker’s old bunker. “Guessing from the nightmares I’ve had, it’s not really a nice place.”

“Well, I assure you,” Charles began, turning his chair to the side and reaching for some documents on his desk. “You are in the best of hands. The very best. I just hope you know how lucky you really are.”

“Lucky? How so?” Logan’s curiosity wandered. He knew you were a valuable member of the team, and he was grateful that you would offer him such a strenuous task on your own shoulders, but he caught on that there was more that Charles hadn’t spoken.

“Alice is a rare mutant. Like you, she can stand the tests of time, and never waiver. She is nearly immortal, and takes her job of protecting others very seriously.”

“I picked that up,” Logan nodded in agreement. “She cares a lot about saving people.”

“She cares even more for those who are close to her,” the old man warned, his expression becoming more solemn and serious. “She will go to incredible lengths to keep her loved ones out of harm’s way.”

Logan was beginning to wonder where the point was in all of this. He knew you were the type to look out for others above yourself. You were an X-man, it kind of came as a job requirement… but more than that, he knew you were kinder than most people were, and the help you extended to him was not just a simple favor.

“She has never experienced a bond like she has with you… with human touch.”

He understands now. Your powers, and the impact they have had on you is immense. You have to keep everyone at arm’s length, except for him. He can be let in, and he can do the things that others can’t.

“What exactly are you telling me?” Logan pondered, gruffly. Even with the professor’s point being made, he was still curious as to why he would bring this all up.

“I’m telling you to be careful. She’s already grown strongly attached to you for the sake of your touch, and will likely become fonder in these days to come. I ask you to think about and consider her feelings when you take her with you… If you hurt her, the consequences would be unimaginable.”

Logan does consider them, for a split second he considers them. He knows you’re fond of him, otherwise this escapade would not even be happening… but he also knows that his ability to touch you is the defining factor. His feelings for someone else block out any signs that your interest in him could further develop, at least past what it is already. Even with all this in mind, Logan is a smartass, and wants to tempt the man in charge by challenging his threat.

“I can imagine quite a bit,” he smirked, nodding his head side to side.

Charles did not take that comedically whatsoever, and Logan didn’t really expect him to. It was probably a bad idea to open his mouth in the first place.

“You mock me when I’m trying to help you?”

“No sir,” he let out with a breath.

“The consequences I speak of would not be dealt by I or any of her colleagues…”

“Then by who?” Logan asked, his voice not raised, but becoming more prominent as the conversation became more pointed than it was before. “Is there some big bad monster I should be worried about?”

Charles sighed. He wasn’t getting anywhere, and Logan only seemed to become irritated the more he spoke. He took a glance into the man’s mind, and found that a beautiful woman with long red hair rested among his thoughts, though he should not be thinking about the woman that is most definitely taken.

“I can see that your mind is clouded by thoughts of someone else,” Xavier changed the subject, tapping into the specific thoughts and trying to gather more details. It appears this conversation was mostly for nothing. Charles sighs, “Do not hurt Alice, Logan. If you do, her pain will become yours.”

“I won’t hurt her,” Logan stood up, assuming this was the last of the professor’s advisory words. He was becoming quickly annoyed with how little the man trusted him, and how intrusive he’d been this whole time.

He wouldn’t lead you on, but he wouldn’t shut you out, either. You’d been so helpful to him, he wasn’t going to push away the one piece of his past that just might bring everything together. That would be foolish of him.

“Logan,” The professor stopped him one more time, and he turned to look at the man, sitting straight and with a firm gaze from his wheelchair. “When the time is right, ask her about a man named Charlie.”

Logan sighed, filing that thought away in his mind before heading back upstairs to pack some of his belongings together.

You never wanted to go back to Canada.

You swore after you got out the first time that nothing good could ever come out of Canada and you stuck to that belief.

But you’d met Logan in Canada, and he wasn’t so bad. Scott, too… although he’d been a teenager at the time and was much more annoying back then.

“On your way already?” Ororo was leaning in your doorway when you looked up, watching you stuff your travel backpack until it could barely zip up on the side.

“About to be,” you heaved it up onto your back, adjusting your posture to hold it correctly, then walked to meet her at the door. “I wasn’t going to leave without saying goodbye.”

She grabbed your hand, covered in your little green gloves. “Keep in touch, will you?”

“I will, I promise,” you nodded gently. “I won’t stay away for long.”

“You say that now,” she crossed her arms and shook her head jokingly. “But going away with a guy that looks like that? And he’s the only man in the world that can touch you? Baby, I’ll be lucky if I ever see you again.”

You laughed along with her, giving a warm smile and a nod. “He’s something…”

“He’s ready to go,” Logan teased, coming up behind Ororo.

You blushed, knowing he probably heard the conversation while leaving his room. You avoided making eye contact with him yet, just gave a thin lip smile while looking back to your dear friend and saying your last goodbyes. You only wished you could hug her close to you, for all the years she’s spent in your corner.

“I guess I’ll see you around, Ro.”

“Don’t be a stranger… Call me when you can.” She gave you a strong look, indicating that she was serious, and not just playing along for the sake of goodbyes.

“You know I will…” you trailed, giving her one more squeeze of the hand before walking behind Logan towards the stairs.

Once at the bottom, there was just a slight obstacle. Rogue caught you both leaving, and had a few words to say.

You’d admit, you felt bad leaving her here, especially when you’d been so adamant to her before that you were going to teach her about her powers and how to get used to them without the fear of hurting others. It’s only now that you realize you won’t be able to help in the most detrimental stages of her mutant education… but you would return. You knew you would.

You had to help Logan, first. He was the priority. He saved your life once, and it was time to pay that debt forward.

Logan had left his dog tags with Rogue, along with a promise that he would be back. Of course he would… Or maybe he wouldn’t. You never thought about what could happen if he should find his memories and remember who he is. He might have loved ones and a family to return to…

“She’s got a crush on you,” you mentioned to him once you were out of the house. You looked at him, and he seemed unsurprised. “And she trusts you…”

“I figured that much,” he smirked, walking towards the main garage around the side of the large house.

“Did you mean it?”

“Did I mean what?” He turned to ask you, his features twisted in confusion.

You sighed, stopping at the garage door but making no motion to use the lock pad to open it.

“When you said you were going to come back…” you trailed, scanning your thumb print on the pad so the door would fold up. State of the art technology for the lock, but the same old door from the seventies.

It took him longer than you expected to answer the question, but you figured since it held some weight, it was good that he thought it out clearly.

“Yeah, I meant it.”

You looked to him, the decision he made was worn on his face and it was easy to see he was telling the truth.

“Good,” you nodded, walking inside first and grabbing your keys from your pocket. Logan immediately gave you a glance of mischief, and walked in the other direction.

“Logan, no…”

“Logan, yes,” he taunted, going over to sit on the motorcycle that belonged to Scott. You weren’t going to play this game with him.

“We are not going all the way to Canada on a bike.” You were trying to be the reasonable one here, but he was so damn stubborn. Two could play that game, you were stubborn, too. “Get in the car.”

“Get on the bike,” he nodded behind him, the open seat looking appealing for only a moment. “I know you want to…”

“No, I don’t…” you opened the driver’s side door, and climbed in, shutting it behind you… but he didn’t budge from the damn motorcycle.

When he turned it on, the engine roaring to life and revving from the motions of his hand, you closed your eyes for a split second before doing the worst thing you could have possibly done. You climbed out of the car and went to the motorcycle, swinging a leg over and holding onto him with a big huff. He knew you did it for show, not because you were actually upset.

“Comfy?” He threw a smirk over his shoulder, and you huffed again for emphasis.

“No.”

He just laughed, pulling out of the garage and onto the road.

You would admit, the wind in your hair, and the lovely smell of the pine trees lining the streets was wonderful. All the sights on the way to your destination were quite lovely, and though you could see them from your car just the same, it wouldn’t feel like this.

This feels like flying, almost, with the breeze beneath your wings, and the sounds of nature as you pass through.

Logan can almost sense your smile when you drive by a particular area full of color changing aspens, the scenery surrounding you felt almost like a dream, something from out of a movie.

He never said anything to taunt you about being right, or made a comment about how much you seemed to be enjoying yourself. It was silent between you both for hours, until the sun began had set, and you’d finally crossed the border into Canada.

“We’re gonna have to stop soon for the night,” he mentioned when you’d pulled off the road to get something to eat. Just a little rest-stop… gas stations, fast food, the works. You’d spotted a sign a few miles back for a motel, but weren’t sure where to go in order to get there.

“Fill up the tank, I’ll go inside and ask about directions,” you told him, swinging your leg off of the bike and walking away.

He was certain that this dynamic between the two of you was working well already, and that he didn’t need to heed Charle’s words as much as he originally intended. You seemed to go with the flow of things, and were rather easy to get along with… and you didn’t seem to be super into him like the professor said you would be. You cared about him, sure… but he cared about you too, and without crossing any lines.

Filling up the bike, he leaned against the metal machinery, his head dozing back and forth from his tired state. It wasn’t until you returned, holding a map and a bag of gas station pastries that he was fully aware again.

“The guy marked that motel out for me on the map,” you said, unfolding the paper and showing it to him, the red marker lining the road and the turn off. “It’s two exits down.”

“Easy enough.” He took a look at the marked location for himself, waiting for the gas pump to finish topping off the tank.

“I got you a donut,” you said, handing him a paper bag like your own. You’d pulled a maple donut from yours, so he was appalled to find that his was not also a maple donut.

“Chocolate?” His eyebrows raised, only teasing you, but still just slightly butthurt about the donut.

“You don’t like chocolate?” You furrowed your eyebrows, talking with your mouth full of the first bite you took.

“Did they not have any other maple glazed?” he nodded to yours, the joking nature still filling his tone.

“This was the last one.” You reasoned. You found it a little funny, but felt a little bad at the same time.

He huffed, shaking his head, but then you smiled sweetly, holding out the donut with a single bite taken to him.

“I’ll trade you,” you offered, knowing that in the end, it was just a donut compared to the grand scheme of things.

“Thanks,” he muttered gratefully, a sideways smile spreading on his cheeks. He’ll admit, it was a sweet gesture, no matter how small. He handed you the chocolate donut, and took a bite out of the one you gave him. “Maple donuts are for real Canadians.”

“You’re Canadian?” you asked, a bit of surprise coming from you. You met him in Canada, but it was somehow still a shock to you. He seemed very American when you first met him, and even now.

“S’one of the only things I can remember,” he nodded, his demeanor livening up quickly, and all because of a donut.

“Huh,” you stared off, wondering if he’d known Stryker for long before his memory faltered. Clearly he’d been abused by the man, but to what extent, you weren’t sure. You have bits and pieces of memories from that era, and most were just feelings of the energy around you.

“You didn’t know?”

“You didn’t tell me…” you trailed, enjoying the chocolate donut, despite maple donuts being better. Him enjoying it was satisfying enough.

“We should get out of here,” he yawned, crumpling up the paper bag and tossing it into a nearby trash can. “Road is dark, and I’m tired.”

“Big, strong, manly… but gets tired on a little road trip?” You teased, finishing up the pastry before throwing away the trash and getting back on the bike with him.

“You try steering this thing all day.” He threw a smirk over his shoulder, revving the engine.

“I would, if you’d let me,” you chided, another taunt that you knew wouldn’t end in your favor. He’d never be caught dead on the back of a motorcycle like this with someone else behind the handles.

“Not a chance…”

Having checked into the small motel, you ached for a shower, but given that Logan was practically falling asleep already, you let him go first.

Maybe it was a mistake, he’d been in there for a while, and you thought maybe all the hot water would be gone by the time it was your turn. You just hoped he hadn’t fallen asleep in there, propped against the shower wall.

You might just shower tomorrow at this point, unwilling to wait for the water to heat back up.

With a sigh, you changed into something a little more comfortable, the pair of sweatpants and sweater that were shoved to the bottom of your giant backpack. It was wrinkled as all hell from the journey, but you knew that didn’t matter. It was cozy, and warm, and being in Canada as late fall was setting in meant you needed to be as warm as possible.

You curled up on the queen bed closest to the heater with your book, which you’d deemed necessity enough to bring on this escapade to another country.

When Logan finally emerged, he’d adorned a pair of flannel pants, and a gray t-shirt, which was admittedly a bit small for him. The fabric hugged his body a bit tighter than he was used to, but good lord almighty… this man looked stunning.

The dim light from the bathroom, mixed with the warm glow from your bedside lamp while you read, it made him look like he glistened. The stray water drops on his face and neck, and the quickly curling upwards strands of his damp hair. You never guessed that his hair just did that naturally. You found yourself staring a little too long, and as soon as Logan picked up on it, dropping the towel he used to dry his hair, he chanced a look in your direction. Quickly your eyes found the pages of your book again, and you kept a straight face, hoping nothing would be said about it.

“That a good book?” he smirked, knowing that you could barely even focus on it a second ago.

“Mhm,” you zoned in on the words, reading them over and over, but none of what they mean stuck in your head. You could only think about what you just saw, and what you still could see if only you turned your gaze.

“It looks old,” he commented on the bent pages and old fabric cover. It looked worn and well loved.

“It is old. I got it on the day it was released in nineteen fifty-three.”

He whistled lowly, his eyebrows raising in surprise. “You read it a lot?”

“Once a year,” you mumbled, still acting engrossed with the page you’d been stuck on since he entered the room. “It’s my favorite book.”

“What’s it about?” He sat down on the edge of his bed, leaning forward and looking at you tiredly. He was exhausted, wasn’t he? Why didn’t he just say goodnight and go to bed?

“The future… the way the author thinks our societies will begin to crumble,” you explained, turning towards him and letting the book fall on your chest, pages still open. “Books will be outlawed, and a group called the firemen will be required to burn any that are found.”

“Sounds interesting… also sounds a little miserable. Why’s it your favorite?” He grinned, throwing his sheets and blankets up and lying beneath them, keeping his head propped up on his hand so he wouldn’t fall asleep yet. The warm glow of your bedside lamp cast him in such a pretty glow…

“I think it feels very real to me, in a way…”

“You think books are gonna be outlawed?” He laughed slightly, clearly finding himself misunderstanding your meaning.

“No, but with the way things are playing out, it feels like a projection of what’s to come. Of course, they will make the enemies of the future out to be mutants, not books.”

“And these… firemen,” he put finger quotes around the word, trying to be hypothetical about the situation. “You think there will be groups like that?”

“Mutant hunters? Absolutely… They’re already out there, just look at what happened to us,” you sighed, the facts of the matter weighing you down, even though it had been a pleasant conversation. You enjoyed talking about your favorite book, but everyone in the mansion had already heard about it a thousand times. It was refreshing to get a new audience to share thoughts with.

“I never thought about it that way…” he furrowed his brow, his eyes drooping with every second passed. He had to be fighting sleep for his life.

“Mutants are supposed to be the future… but we’ll never see that future if we have to battle extinction.”

He didn’t reply, his mind elsewhere. You watched him carefully, his face looking deep in thought. You returned to your book by the time he finally spoke up again.

“You’ll have to let me borrow that book sometime,” he rolled over as he said it, so when you glanced over at him, his back was facing you. “G’night, Alice.”

“Night, Logan…”

In the morning, you woke up later than usual, no alarm clock or imminent threat looming to pull you from your slumber. It was nice, being able to wake up naturally for the first time in years. You felt so well rested that you nearly forgot where you were. The chill air of the morning surrounded you just outside of the thick blankets and sheets you were under, but it wasn’t unpleasant, it was refreshing.

When you opened your eyes, you began to recall everything slowly. Sitting up, you find that Logan isn’t in the bed across from you, or in the room at all. You furrow your brow and stand to your feet, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes when a note catches your eye.

Placed on a tiny table by the janky minifridge, there’s a paper bag and a torn off napkin with some words scribbled on it.

Be back soon… got you something.

Inside the paper bag was a maple donut. It looked really good, too. Much better than the fifty-cent one you’d traded to him the night before.

You smiled and took a bite, eating while going about your morning routine, wanting to shower and get ready to leave the motel. You weren’t sure what Logan was up to, but with him being Canadian and all, you’re sure he’s just happy to be back.

He knocked on the door, the latch lock seeming to have been flipped over when he left.

You dropped your change of clothes back onto your bed, running over to the door and letting him in. He seemed to have a relaxed grin on his face, and looking at his clothing, there was a light sheen of icy water coating his leather jacket.

“C’mere,” he pulled you along, completely barefoot and still in your pajamas.

Once outside, you saw that the grounds were covered with just a small dusting of snow. It wasn’t thick, or freezing, but it was still falling around you, and you suddenly didn’t mind getting dragged away from the warm room.

“It’s snowing already?” You asked in confusion, as if he had the answer.

“It’s Canada, what did you expect?”

You just continued to enjoy the pretty sights around you, then realized your feet were still bare and you were likely going to make yourself sick if you didn’t go back inside.

“Let me go shower and we can check out,” you muttered, looking at him and finding he was just as captured by the beauty of a quickly approaching winter wonderland.

“I’ll make sure the bike is thawed out,” he joked, nodding to you.

After you went back inside, he walked around to the front to where the bike was parked in the covered area. It wasn’t too cold, but it would still need some time for the metal to heat up. He’d been able to start the motor not too long after, and pulled it around the side of the motel to be closer to where you had stayed.

He should have knocked before going inside, and he regrets not doing so, but upon opening the door to you half dressed, having yet to pull up your jeans, he seems to be frozen in place. You don’t notice him at first, and with the second glance he gets, he sees all the scars littered over your legs and hips. He remembers the first night when you’d put all the pieces together, knowing you’d met him before. You knew about his past, and he got a peek into yours. You'd told him a man named Stryker gave you those scars.

“Shit, Logan…” You trailed, yanking up your jeans faster and hopping your feet to speed up the process. When you noticed he’d just been standing there you panicked, and nearly fell down trying to get your pants up. “Don’t you knock?”

“I’m sorry,” he blinked himself out of it, furrowing his brow and dripping his eyes. He had to physically shake himself from the trance. “I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine,” you stopped him, grabbing your things and packing them away, sliding your backpack on and walking past him. Your hair was still wet from your shower, but you didn’t want to stay inside and let the moment linger any longer. “Let’s get out of here, we still have a long way to drive.”

The hike through the fresh snow had been a little uncomfortable, mostly happening in silence. Since this morning, you’d barely spoken a word to him. You’d ridden miles and miles on the back of the bike without talking. Usually he was the silent type himself, but he’d felt bad for what happened, even after apologizing, so he decided it rested on his shoulders to break the quiet streak.

“I’ve been thinking… those scars,” he tried to broach the subject lightly, looking at you with a careful eye. “You’d said you were bulletproof, and fireproof. I had it in my head that you were impenetrable.”

“I am,” you gave him a flat stare, nodding your head a little.

“Then how were they able to cut you up?”

Poor phrasing, but he was never one for a gentle touch in his wording.

“Same way you were able to,” you reminded him, rolling up your sleeve to show where his claw marks had almost completely healed over. “Adamantium.”

“Adamantium? You’re kidding,” he almost found it funny, the irony of it all. He’s the only one who can touch you, but he’s also the only one who can hurt you. “How’d they figure that out?”

You kept on with your trek through the forest, the explanation rolling around in your head before you told him aloud.

“They’d been trying to take me apart for years, and all I’d do is rot in a cell… then they found a mutant called Lava, and she was the only person who could melt the adamantium they’d discovered. I guess they ran out of options with me… so,” you sighed, raising your eyebrows and trying to keep composure while talking about it. Opening up to him did little to help his own memory, but you did so anyway. Because he asked. “They coated a surgical set in adamantium to see what would happen… and it worked. They started taking parts of me wherever I could spare them.”

He had come to a slow stop, but you hadn’t noticed, continuing through the forest on your own, trying to make it to the edge of the lake before it got too dark. You at least wanted to pinpoint the location for tomorrow’s journey through the past.

You turned around to see him standing dead still, a look on his face the likes of which you couldn’t decipher… What was he thinking behind those pretty eyes?

“Logan, you okay?”

He blinked out of his thoughts. You wondered if maybe he was remembering something and you’d stopped him.

“Yeah, I just,” he shook his head and caught up with you, the solemn look not leaving his face. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

You shrugged, keeping in stride with him, not falling behind or going ahead this time. The conversation helped ease the awkwardness that came before in the silence. “It’s alright. It was a while ago… besides, you were the one who saved me, you don’t need to be the one apologizing.”

The hike kept on in a much more comfortable silence. The sun would be going down soon, and you didn’t want to spend the night out in the woods, especially when it had been starting to snow today.

When you came across the small stream, leading to the edge of the lake, you picked up speed.

“Should be right up here,” you told him, leading the way through the mucky ground, moist with melted snow and mud.

You’d seen it before he did. You stopped in your tracks the second you looked across.

He caught up, taking a look for himself, but quickly growing concerned with howtense and unmoving you were. Your expression had changed from the relaxed one it had been wearing to a firm yet frightened stare. It was eerily quiet, and you couldn’t move your feet. Your hands balled into fists and one at a time, the memories of this place came rushing back. Just seeing the base, abandoned and covered in rust, was enough to make you want to cry. You felt all the loneliness, all the pain, and all the lost hope that used to plague you in this very place.

“You okay, kid?” Logan came closer, and you nodded, putting on a brave face and turning to him with a forced look of calmness.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you even managed a stiff smile, but you refused to turn back towards the base, letting your shoulder have the pleasure of the view instead. “It’s getting dark, though.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, watching as you were quickly back on the path you came from, trying to keep the composure that you weren’t sure would hold. “Alright.”

He trailed on after you, and just before the sun was all the way below the mountains, you’d managed to get back to the road. The bike was cold again, but thankfully it started without a problem.

He’d tried too hard to get to a comfortable place with you, but again he felt back at square one, sitting in awkward silence like he did this morning. Your hold on him wasn’t as tight as usual, and you didn’t seem to care how unsteady it was with every turn of the bike.

You rode down the street about ten miles or so before coming across a small fishing town, with restaurants, bars, neighborhood markets, and even a cozy little motel. Much better looking than the one you’d stayed in the night previous.

He’d been the one to get checked in tonight, getting everything settled and making sure you were comfortable. You still weren’t in a chatty mood, but you’d loosened up just enough to have civil conversation, and answer the questions he would ask you.

He let you take the first shower tonight, and you were out in only a few minutes, racing to get tucked into bed as quickly as possible.

He took his time, knowing you were probably just going through the motions of being here, and he needed to let you experience it at your own pace. After all, you remember this place, and he doesn’t. The only thing he recalls are the torturous nightmares that plague his sleep. That alone tells him all he needs to know about the horrors and chaos this place caused.

He’s surprised to find you still awake when he gets out of the shower, towel around his hips and water running over his body. He thought you’d be asleep, so out of habit he didn’t bring his clothes in with him to change.

He sees you’re reading your book, the one about the future. You’re so engrossed in it, your eyes never leaving the pages. He wonders if it’s a coping tool, a comfort item of sorts. He’d never thought of a book as a security blanket before, being written words on paper.

He didn’t say anything yet, unwilling to interrupt how calm you seemed to be now. Just grabbed his clothes and went back to the bathroom.��

Maybe going back there tomorrow isn’t a good idea. He appreciates the openness of your heart to do such a favor for him, but he doesn't want to cause you distress for his own gain. You’ve shown him where it is. He knows how to find it on his own, now. If he can convince you to stay back here, he’ll go on his own, find the answers himself.

When he emerges the second time, you’ve laid your book down on the bedside table, placing a bookmark between the worn pages before settling yourself. He sits down on the edge of his own bed, and makes eye contact. You don’t break it first, but you remain silent. A man of few words, but he seemed to be the more chatty one today.

“I didn’t say anything before, but you seemed a little, uh… scared, earlier.”

You didn’t change the expression you wore, but somehow he could feel the shift in your emotions. He just wanted to ask and see if this was too much for you.

“I wasn’t scared, just remembered some stuff is all,” You sighed out, laying down and still looking over at him here and there, but not willing to speak more than what you’d said.

“You wanna talk about it?”

It was an open offer, but he already knew the answer. For someone who seemed so extroverted and talkative when he met you, you’d somehow turned into a reserved and silent little girl since this morning.

“No…” You trailed, the word coming out soft and gentle.

“Okay,” he nodded, getting comfortable before rolling over and calling out to you as you turned out the light. “Goodnight…”

“Night, Logan.”

In the morning, you were already awake, clinging to your knees as you focused very hard on looking out the window by your bed. When he looked at the clock and read six, he figured you must not have slept well. He barely slept most of the time. His regeneration made it easy to stay awake days at a time, and he only needed a few hours to function. Not to mention he was often plagued with nightmares. He hasn’t had them the past few nights, which he finds strange, but at the same time, he isn’t complaining whatsoever.

He swung his legs out of bed when he saw you were unmoving, just like yesterday at the lake.

“Hey,” he placed a hand at your shoulder, softly breaking you from your endless stare. “You doin’ alright?”

“Yeah, I just woke up a little early.”

Your little smile was forced, and he could tell, but didn’t say anything to negate your response. He just sat down beside you on the edge of the bed, looking outside the window where your gaze lingered. There was nothing specific to look at, just a view of the parking lot, and a few trees framed a small log cabin bar next door.

“I uh… I had an idea last night…” he trailed, gaining your attention as you turned to him. “What if we took a few days.”

“What do you mean?” you furrowed your brows, tilting your head as you laid it on your curled up knees.

“I mean, what if we don’t go to the base right away?” he suggested with a shrug. It had been a good idea in his head, to straggle behind a few days, and make the journey through the past when you were more settled. “I could tell the way it got to you last night, after you saw it.”

“Logan, I’m fine. Promise,” you nodded your head as if to assure yourself, but even as you were doing it you knew it didn’t look convincing.

“You weren’t fine,” he corrected, unafraid to voice his concerns by now. “Look, you brought me here, and I’m really grateful… but you were uncomfortable to even look at that place, and I could see that.”

You huffed out a sigh, shaking your head and trying to seem like there was no reason for concern. You didn’t want him to back out after coming all this way just on your account. This was for him, not for you.

“I’ll be okay,” you put on a more stern face, grabbing his hand. The gesture was more for your own comfort rather than his, but even still, you meant what you said. “I’d spent a long time trying to forget that place, and last night everything just sort of came back… but as long as you’re there, I’ll be okay.”

He listened constantly, the warmth of your touch was always so energizing to him. It made him feel like he was somehow stronger and charged with determination. He figured it had something to do with your mutation, and his ability to survive it. Not just survive, but thrive on it.

“You saved me from Stryker, Logan,” you let your legs fall from their curled position, scooting just a bit closer to him, his eyes never leaving yours, and his hand still lingered around the skin of your own. “I feel safe when I’m with you.”

His chest tightened when he heard those words. He’d realized only now what the professor's words meant a few mornings ago. He recalls exactly how they were said, and why.

Don’t hurt her, Logan.

It wasn’t just about the ability to touch, which he would admit was definitely a struggle in itself when he’d thought about how long you’ve been alive, with no one to cling to. Aside from the skin to skin contact, you trusted him. You felt safe in his presence. Most of all, you were doing all of this for him without asking anything in return, and he figured you didn’t even care if you got anything out of it in the long run.

Charles didn’t want Logan to fall all over you in immediate love and commitment. He just wanted him to take care of you, attend to you and make sure you weren’t without comfort, especially in this terrible place you were headed.

Her pain will become your own.

It wasn’t about you becoming vengeful if you got hurt, and it wasn’t about your loved ones making him pay for his actions. He understood that now, too. It was about the guilt and shame he would feel for not having been there to help you should anything happen. Should this very situation happen. He won’t let you go it alone.

“C’mere,” he sat further back, raising his other arm and beckoning you to sit closer with him.

You didn’t even hesitate to climb under his wing so to speak, and lean against him as he’d gestured for you to do. He wrapped that arm around you, his head resting over top of your soft and slightly unruly morning hair. His other hand stayed in yours, unbudging for the time you sat there.

At one point you’d felt so calm you closed your eyes, just absorbing his energy and feeling the comfort from it. It was a rough and hard facade at first, but his energy held layers, and the more you relaxed into him, the better you could feel what lies beneath. You could feel his gentleness, and his soft spirit, willing him to go wherever the wind blows. You could feel the slight sadness and confusion that he seemed to internalize every day. Probably from lacking his past, the memories and the people he used to have before Stryker messed him up.

“I think taking a few days doesn’t sound so bad, you know?” You said quietly, just loud enough to reach his ears.

“Yeah?” he smiled, looking down at you when you nodded. Your expression was happier than it had been before, the traces of fear were gone from your eyes. “It’ll be fun. I’ll show you a good time, then maybe you can change your mind about Canada.”

“Unlikely,” you laughed softly, your own smile taking over as you met his eyes. “You’re not so bad, for a Canadian, though.”

“I’ll take what I can get.”

He’d stuck to his word.

He’d shown you a good time around the small town, though he claims he’s never been there before. All the small business families were very kind and embracing, although it got to a point where talking to them was becoming detrimental to the length of your trip. Everywhere you went into, whether it be a shop, a small town bakery, or even an entertainment hub, there were people recommending things to do and see. And of course, you were not one to say no to an Adventure.

On the back of the motorcycle, you’d gone practically all over the town, meeting people, and always being introduced the same way by Logan.

‘I’m Canadian, she’s not… She doesn’t like it here much, I wanna change her mind.’

You laughed almost every time at the way the people would react, but would nod gleefully when they made suggestions on activities. You found yourself liking Canada, but only because Logan was here. He was making you laugh, and smile wider than you think you ever have. Not even three days into this endeavor, and already you’ve decided you’re falling for him.

You don’t know how deeply he reciprocates those feelings, because he’s a flirt with nearly everyone… but the soft and gentle moments, like this morning, lead you to believe there’s something else there. Some part of him that is drawn to you like you are to him.

His lingering touch on the small of your back when he opens the door and guides you through, or the arm slung around your shoulder to steer you in a different direction when something interesting catches his eye. Even the way he nonchalantly fixes your hair when he’s talking to you and the wind blows it out of place. It’s all so casual in the way it happens, and yet, it means everything to someone like you. Someone who has lived for two centuries without the normalcy of touch and comfort from another person.

You try not to focus too much on what it means, and decide to live in the moment to enjoy each time those little touches happen.

By the end of the day, you think maybe he’s taking you back to the ‘Cozy Pine Tree Inn’ that you were rooming at… but instead he pulls into the parking lot across the sidewalk.

The half-working neon sign over the porch read ‘Jackalope Neighborhood Pub’ and when you looked inside, there must have been about ten people total, including the two bartenders behind the counter.

It wasn’t a huge place to begin with, and the population of the town was probably less than the amount of students you had each week, but it was cozy, and you appreciated the warmth of it all, even though it was brutally cold.

“Go on inside, I gotta put this under that covering in case it snows,” he encouraged, letting you hop off with a spring in your step.

The inside was just as you thought it would be. Cozy, warm, dimly lit. The walls were covered in old pictures and heads of various hunted animals from up in the mountains. Sitting down at the bar, you shed your jacket and let it hang on the back of your low-back stool, keeping your gloves on for safety.

“Hi there, pretty darlin,” a man came up beside you, a smile on his face and a drunken twinkle in his eye.

“Hi,” you smiled back kindly, nodding to him.

“Never seen you here before, I guess you’re new,” he came a bit closer, and even though he didn’t try anything yet, it made you nervous when people get this close. Your skin is covered, but it still makes you uneasy.

“I’m just visiting, actually… I live in New York.”

No, you didn’t owe him an explanation, but you felt the only way to keep him at bay would be to answer his curiosities as quickly as you could, not giving him room to think about anything else.

“Why don’t I buy you a drink? A pretty girl in a place like this needs a drink.”

“I’m okay, but thank you. I’m actually here with someone, he’ll be back in a second,” you spoke quicker when the man took another step beside you, leaning up against the bar now and reaching for your hand.

“Awe, c’mon… m’sure your buddy won’t mind,” he tried to grab at your forearm in a teasing manner, but you pulled your hands from the counter, pulling your sleeves down to cover the skin of your wrist that your gloves didn’t quite shield.

“Don’t touch me,” you rushed out, a panic beginning to pour over your words. “You could get hurt.”

“I could get hurt, huh? You're gonna hurt me, pretty thing?”

“You don’t understand,” you breathed shallow, trying to keep calm to no avail. “Please, just leave me alone.”

“Baby, I think you want me to stay right here,” he again got closer, trying to cage you in by bringing his arms on both sides of you and trapping your stool in front of him.

Simply trying to get out of the situation without causing a scene, you leaned forward against the bar, pushing at one arm to try and sneak out… but as it turns out, you didn’t even have to.

Logan pulled the man away by his neck, looking him face to face and giving a harsh but somehow unbothered stare. This man was of no real threat to him, clearly.

“Leave my girl alone…” he let out calmly, though it was filled with threat. You knew he’d only added the possession for effective purposes, but you felt your heart stutter in your chest at the sound of it.

The man didn’t even speak another word, rushing off to the other side of the bar. He wasn’t a small man by any means, but Logan, standing at six foot two, with a strong build and a deep temperament was sure to scare anyone off.

Logan sat down at the bar next to you, ordering a beer for himself, and a whiskey for you. He owed you some payback Jack Daniel’s, if he remembers correctly.

“Thanks,” you threw him a smile and a nod, which he returned.

“Guy’s a creep,” he let out, his brows raised and an eager look on his face when the beer bottle was set in front of him. “Hope he didn’t ruin Canada for you.”

You laughed for what had to be the hundredth time today, shaking your head.

“Of course, not. The only thing that could ruin it is what we actually came here to do,” you joked, sipping on your drink as soon as it was put in front of you.

There was a beat of silence, before a thought that popped into Logan’s mind turned into a question.

“So, how long have you been at the school?”

You gave him a glance, tilting your head and trying to think of an answer that made sense.

��Well that depends, do you mean as it is today? Or when it first started?” You found yourself turning towards him more instead of facing the bar.

“Uh, all of it?”

He took another swig and chuckled at the strangeness of your insistence for elaboration. It was a long and complicated story, but you had to find a simple and short way to explain it.

“Charles found me by cerebro a long time ago, when I was in New York City studying for my history degree,” you took another drink, eyes watching the ice swirl around the bottom of the glass as you tipped it in different directions. “He snatched me up, and a bunch of other mutants, and we saved the world… Which I guess is a typical Tuesday now, but back then it was a big deal for us. The professor had opened the school, but I left right after some of the others did..”

“You left? Why?” His confusion stemmed from what he’s seen. That place was your home, and those people were your family. He doesn’t know why any mutant would want to leave the walls of that mansion, where it was safe.

You shrugged, a bit hesitant to even try and remember what the real reasoning was. “It was the sixties, everyone wanted their own path of freedom. That was the thing back then, wasn't it? Free love, free drugs, free spirits.”

He raised a brow, looking at you with a bit of surprise, which faded just as fast.

“I keep forgetting how old you are,” he smirked, huffing a small laugh and shaking his head. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were barely an adult.”

You often thought about that. What you would have looked like if you’d been able to grow older. Would your face have thinned out from its girlish fullness? Would you have formed little crows feet at the corners of your eyes? Would you even resemble the same person you’ve looked in the mirror to see for all these years?

“If you want to be technical, I’m physically twenty.”

“Awe, just a baby,” he teased, giving you a slight elbow to the arm. “So is that part of your mutation, then?”

“No, actually,” you began, throwing back the rest of your drink before explaining further. “The way my body works is like anyone else’s… I have to have energy and sustenance to survive, all that nonsense…”

He’d been very interested to find out about you, since he’d yet to find anything out about himself. Especially since he’d figured your mutation was the reason for your long life span.

“But since I’m made up of different kinds of energy, matter, antimatter, and a third substance unknown to science yet, I can draw sustenance from things other than food and rest.”

“Like what?”

You took your little green glove off one hand, and reached for his forearm, which he was currently leaning on against the bar. You focused on doing what you’d done the night that Rogue had injured him, forcing energy into him instead of taking it.

“You feel that?”

His eyes got a bit wider, and he watched your hand, there was just the slightest bit of an iridescent glow around his skin where you touched him. It was vague and unnoticeable if you weren’t really looking, and he was. “Yeah…”

“It’s called energy transference. I absorb energy from everything around me, and I can use it to create things… shields, small detonations, and as I recently found out with you, the ability to restore energy from depletion,” you listed, trying to get to the point, but of course, he didn’t understand how it was all connected.

“And what, it keeps you from aging?” he asked, like it didn’t make any sense, and to be fair, you didn’t really lead with the cause, so you understood his confusion.

“Not really, no…” you thought back to the day it all happened, so many years ago and yet you’ll never forget it. “When I absorb energy, it sustains me… but when I turned twenty, I was struck by lightning.”

He let out a low whistle, thinking to himself that it was a wild turn of events in your background that he wasn’t expecting.

“The professor thinks it caused a power surge in my anatomy. Being able to absorb the strike instead of it killing me, my cells were able to store that energy and prevent me from aging.”

He understood now, blinking a few times as the process settled into his mind. He wonders what else your powers can do, but doesn’t want to keep pushing you on it.

“Huh,” he looked to the bar for a minute, eyes going over the spot on his arm that still held just the slightest glow of energy without being easily seen. “I don’t really age all that much either…”

“I heard,” you replied, giving him a once over. He was probably one of the most beautiful men you’d ever come across, and knowing that his aging process was also stunted was nearly a blessing in your eyes.

“I still do, just real slow,” he explained, running a hand through his hair, the kitty ears becoming more prominent when he did. “Guessing by how little I’ve changed in the last fifteen years, I might be close to your age. Maybe a little younger… I just don’t remember.”

His tone falls into a solemness in the end, and you frown at the change in his energy. He’d been having a good time until now, when he started to think about his past, but there was nothing to find. You again reached out for him, taking his hand like you’d grown accustomed to in the past few days. Touching him would never become dull, or feel any less important. You suspected that years from now you would still feel the same tingly and warm sensation from being able to meet his skin to yours.

“You will,” you promised. Even if it takes you a lifetime, you’ll help him find himself. His past, and who he was.

The next day was Sunday, and it went on like the day before… but one thing was different. Two things, technically.

One, Logan held your hand whenever there was a long distance of walking to be done. Two, his funny and somewhat playful introductions from the day before had been given a small twist. Instead of just saying, ‘I’m Canadian, she’s not,’ there was an added layer of possession. ‘I’m Canadian, my girl isn’t.’

After last night in the bar, something was different. You couldn’t put your finger on what exactly made him switch up his actions around you, and towards you, but it wasn’t in your direct focus. You were much too busy enjoying the sudden change, and the casualness in which it was implemented.

You wondered if you should ask him about it, but every time you gained an opportunity to do so, you lost the courage. Maybe he was just doing it because it felt normal to be this way with a traveling companion? Maybe he was just putting up a front for the townspeople, so he didn’t have to try so hard to explain the situation between the two of you.

He’d been so gentle, so domesticated, it felt like he’d grown fully comfortable with you. You’d been the same with him, squeezing his hand whenever he grabbed yours.

His touch, his words, and more importantly, the look in his eyes whenever he caught you staring… It all led you to believe there was something lurking, just waiting to be let out.

When you’d returned to the motel that night, giggling about the state of his hair after a tree branch full of snow collapsed on him, he’d rolled his eyes, giving you a playful shove into your own bed while he mumbled about ‘rinsing the pine needles off’ of himself.

“I’m gonna go down to the Lobby, I wanna call Ororo,” you said, the wide smile still on your face.

He nodded, not even waiting for you to leave before he started stripping down his clothes. His jacket first, then his flannel. When he was left in the gray beater he wore beneath it all, he stopped for a moment, throwing a glance over his shoulder at you with a smirk. He knew you’d been watching, and he was too big of a tease to tell you to look away, or to remove himself to the bathroom.

He turned back around, and pulled the thin fabric over his head, throwing it to his pile by the duffel bag.

He didn’t need to look at you again to know he would catch you staring. He just went about his business as if you weren’t there. Asshole.

You almost couldn’t breathe. The only person on this entire planet that can touch you, and you got lucky enough that it was Logan. This man was strongly built, and chiseled as if from marble stone. He wasn’t overly muscular or too big, but just enough that you swore God sent him down from the heavens to roam about the earth as his most glorious creation. The way his back muscles tensed when he reached into his bag for a change of clothes, or the way his abs contracted when he stood back upright, it made your hands fidget. You wanted to stand before him and do the one thing you couldn’t do to anyone else. You wanted to touch his gorgeous, warm toned skin.

When he was about to head to the bathroom, he finally gave you a glance, his smirk even stronger when he read your expression.

“You gonna go call her or not?”

“Right,” you blinked, standing up and rushing around to grab your jacket and gloves.

You’d rushed down to the lobby as fast as your feet could carry you, the stiff breeze doing nothing to quench your excitement. You loaded two quarters into the payphone in the lobby’s hallway, facing away from the stench of the crappy bathrooms nearby.

You tapped your leg nervously as you told the operator the correct information and waited for Storm to answer. It wasn’t too late, everyone should still be awake.

The dial went until the second to last before she picked up.

“Hello?” Her voice sounded like music to your ears.

“Ro, it’s me,” you said as gently as you could, having to repress your energy. “I just wanted to check in…”

“Check in? Everything is normal here… what about you, have you found the base yet? How’s Logan?”

Her rushed questions came out when she realized who she was speaking to. She’d waited days for this call, and honestly, you weren’t one to disappoint.

“We’ve located it, yeah. We’re hiking out there tomorrow,” you explained, leaving out the part where you took a two day joyride through a small Canadian town with the man you’ve deemed is your favorite Canadian. “And Logan’s good. We’ve been having a great time so far.”

“A great time, huh? So I was right to be afraid that I’d never see you again…” she trailed, only partly joking. In truth, she wants you to be happy, but she also wants you to come home.

“Oh relax, we’ll be back before you know it.”

You heard a muffled yelling, like she’d covered the phone to reprimand some students, before she was back on the line.

“Well, tell me everything, what’s Canada like? Is it as bad as you remember?” She teased, figuring by the sound of your voice and the smile she could practically hear coming through the phone, that your opinion had been swayed.

“Canada itself is fine, but Logan is something else entirely,” you raised a brow, leaning into the phone panel on the wall and twisting the cord in your fingers like a love-struck schoolgirl. “Did you know he was Canadian?”

“I thought he might be, wasn't sure.”

“Well, I take back hating Canada, he’s actually made me like it…” you trailed, fighting yet another wide smile from only thoughts of today. “He’s made me like him… a lot.”

“Baby, it’s only been four days,” she laughed on the other end. You could tell she was debating knocking sense into you, or asking for details. The latter won in the end. “So did he kiss you, or what?”

“No, he hasn’t kissed me,” you said with a sigh, wishing the statement hadn’t been true. “But he’s been so… different. He holds my hand, he hugs me when I’m cold… he’s been introducing me to everyone we talk to as ‘his girl’.”

“So what I’m hearing is, I need to be making wedding preparations for when you get back?” She huffed out another laugh, hand on her hip as she leaned into a wall in the mansion. She knew this was going to happen. You got attached to people very easily, but Logan was an entirely different can of worms. He could touch you, he could hold you, and he could be with you in ways no one else would ever be able to. That made him your ideal attachment. If you believed in soulmates, you’d say he was yours. Uniquely created with a mutation that matched your own in the opposite form.

“See, you think that’s funny,” you laughed along with her through the phone, titling your head and speaking with confidence. “But I’m absolutely gonna marry him someday.”

She rolled her eyes, and you could almost hear it through the phone. “As crazy as you sound, I believe you… but give it more than four days to be sure, yeah?”

“Fine… I’ll give it till the end of the trip,” you taunted. You knew it was crazy to be making these bets now, but you were just so certain that this man would be your endgame. He was the only one who could be… right?

“That’s all I can ask for from you… Just be safe, and tell him I said hi, okay?” She quickly tried to get off the phone, and you could hear the rowdy children making a ruckus in the background of where she was.

“I will… tell everyone there that I miss them, and I’ll be back soon.”

“Will do, bye baby…” she rushed out her goodbye before the line went dead.

You smiled, mumbling a small ‘bye’ under your breath as you hung up the phone and headed back for the room.

The room was a bit steamy when you first walked in, with the bathroom door having been left open to air out. Logan was reclined in the bed furthest to the wall, nothing but flannel bottoms on while he was kicked back and relaxed. He had one arm behind his head, and his other perched at his side to hold up a book in his hand. Your book… the one you’d finished last night.

“Hey,” he smiled at you as you walked through the door. “Sorry I didn’t ask, it looks interesting.”

You furrowed your brow with your own surprised smile, shaking your head. “No, it’s okay… I think you’ll like it.”

“So far I do… I promise I’ll be careful with it, I know it’s old,” he defended yet again, even though you would give him that precious copy if it made him happy.

“It’s fine, what’s mine is yours,” you kept on, laying your coat on the back of a chair for the night. “Besides, you can’t do anymore damage to it that I haven’t already done.”

“I noticed you dogear the pages…” he raised a brow in your direction, as if accusing you of something.

“I know, it’s terrible…” you trailed, sitting on the edge of his bed and watching him for a moment. He went back to the book, completely engrossed in what was probably still the first chapter. “What part are you on?”

“Burn ‘em to ashes, then burn the ashes,” he remarked, and you nodded. He seemed to be pretty hooked on only the first few pages. “You were right, y’know? About comparin’ this kinda future to ours. It’s nasty stuff…”

“It only gets worse, keep reading.”

You got up, grabbing your clothes and heading for a shower. He had been considerate enough to save plenty of hot water for you.

The weekend was over, and unfortunately it was time to go where this entire journey was meant to lead. Stryker’s base.

The ride to the bridge was silent, but the second you arrived, Logan turned to you with a look of sincerity.

“Look, I know that you’re doing this for me,” he began, bringing a hand to your arm in the most gentle way possible. “But if you start feelin’ like you did the other day… I have no problem going in on my own, alright?”

“I’ll be okay, Logan. You’re here with me,” you reminded him, placing your hand over his and giving it a squeeze. “Let’s go…”

He nodded, letting you take the lead, because as was made clear before the trip even began, you were the one who remembered this place, and he was the one trying to regain those memories.

“When did you come here?” He asked, and it was an innocent question except for the implications.

“I didn't come here, I was taken. I'd just passed the bar exam back in New York, and I was gonna be a lawyer for a while, but Stryker got to me first,” You explained, not taking offense to his wording. You’d known he was a little brash with the things he said, but he could also be gentle and sweet.

“How long were you here?” His voice softened this time.

“About six years, got here near the start of the program, lived to the end of it.”

“And what about me?” He’d begun walking side by wide with you, not straggling behind like before. His curiosity wasn’t the only reason for his questioning, but it was a factor. He mostly just wanted to keep you distracted from looming amongst your own thoughts in silence, getting closer and closer to the base.

“You came towards the end, but he was planning to have you for years. That mutant I told you about, the one who melted the adamantium? They had her powering the machine long before you even came to the island.”

Your explanation caught him off guard a bit. When he’d asked if you came here, you said you were taken, but now you told him he had come… meaning he made the decision to do it.

“And I… came willingly?” He titled his head with furrowed brows, unsure why anyone would want to come to this place, if it was as bad as you say.

“From what I understand, you did at first. I think you ran away when you knew of Stryker's plans,” You reasoned, not completely remembering everything. Not that you were even apart of those dealings in the first place.

“Did I meet you then?”

You smiled and shook your head. You’d wished you’d been able to catch a glimpse of him the first time, what he’d been like before Stryker tortured him and turned him into a piece of metal.

“No, I never met you the first time. But I could feel you,” you tried your best to describe, nearly failing for how little you could actually say instead of showing him.

He seemed to understand it enough, remembering the way your powers work. He came to a halt beside you, giving you a look and asking the next question. “How did I feel?”

You stopped, too. You looked at his eyes now, and they seemed so full of something you couldn’t explain, but couldn’t look away from, either.

“Sad… Angry.”

“And now?” He asked, a serene expression on his features when he was looking at you.

“You’re still tense, but your emotions are softer, calmer.” You raised a hand to his face, trailing slightly over the facial hair that had slightly grown out the last few days. It suited him, you thought.

After a few moments, you felt a shiver run down your spine from the cold, and snapped out of your daze, continuing on the path ahead, and leading him through an old abandoned tunnel. This tunnel was not full of bad memories, but a rather fond one. The day you had escaped, you followed Scott through this tunnel to meet the Professor on the other side.

He seemed to be taking everything in, noting every intricate detail of the place to try and place it. Nothing sprung from the back of his mind, so he doesn’t know if anything significant enough happened here that he might have a cognitive reset, but he keeps trying, going through each stretch of the base like something might pop up.

You froze still when you got to the edge of the cell block. The cages were just as he’d left them, completely and utterly destroyed by his claws.

“This is it, huh?” He stood still, too. The weight of the area was easy to feel, and though he didn’t know why, he could almost sense the years of heaviness that was caused here. It was haunting.

“This is it,” you huffed, taking a step forward and treating it like you would any other place you visited. It’s just bricks and concrete and steel, it’s not like it should affect you this way. “The cell on the end is mine, the one three or four down was Scott’s.”

There were motion sensors everywhere. Long since forgotten about, and none were activated, but he could also see the security measures, and some of the poking and prodigy tools they must have used just scattered about. The leftover scenery of a hasty escape, by both the mutants and the inhabitants of this place.

“How did you even survive this?” He asked, the weight settling in on his shoulders even more, pushing him into the floor.

“Most of us didn't. This entire block had new mutants every year. All except me,” you sighed out, running your fingers over the enclosure that you’d been contained in for so long. It was in the past now, and you stood beside the very testament to your escape. The man who freed you and had given you hope. Nothing bad could happen to you here as long as he was with you, now.

“Because you can't die...” He trailed, a single finger of his looming over the exposed skin of your neck. With him being so close, this little action almost seemed normal, but the cold weather made his hands cold, too, and the feeling of it caused a shiver. You stepped away with a shudder under your breath, but turned around and got close enough again to keep the energy from feeling awkward. No matter how cold his hands were, you still liked when he touched you.

“I wanted to. This was the worst part of my life. I never wanted to come back here.”

“Then why did you?” He crossed his arms, leaning against the cell block and leaning in. He knew the answer, or at least he thought he did. Charles made him clearly aware, not that he didn’t know already.

“I wanna help you,” you looked down, too scared to meet his eyes and say something else besides what you wanted him to hear. “You saved me from this place, the least I can do is help you remember it.”

He nodded, thinking that maybe he was pushing too hard. Maybe he just needed to focus on himself… but something about this place, it made him feel that strange connection to you again. The one that he didn’t think he felt back at X-Manor.

He took a few steps towards the frozen doors at the end of the block, likely leading into other parts of the base that were inaccessible.

“How did it happen?” He turned back, wielding a small smirk.

“What?” you furrowed your brows, unsure of what exactly he meant.

“The rescue, how did it happen? Was I heroic?” He posed jokingly, hands on his hips to draw out a laugh from you, and it worked. Even in this place you were scared of, he could make you feel joy.

“Yeah, you were…” you closed the distance between you, pushing him into position by the doors to reenact the scene. “It was pretty late at night, the sirens started going off, we all started panicking, we thought we were getting attacked or something. Most of us were weak, and could barely stand. My legs were likely broken and definitely cut apart from the tests they'd been doing… We thought it was the end. And then you came charging down the cellblock with this woman,” you sat back into your cell, feeling no semblance of fear from it now. He ran down to your cell with a cheesy grin, playing along for your amusement. “You both started to set everyone free. But you were the one who tore open my cage, and without thinking, I let you help me up…” you trailed, watching as per your story, he reached in and helped you to your feet just like he had done all those years ago. “That was the first time I touched you.”

You kept your hand in his, the tingling sensation still remaining, even though you’ve probably touched him a hundred times by now.

“Wow… that uh… doesn’t sound like me…” he looked away from you, his hand pulling back and hanging it at his side. He’d broken the charade to think about how inaccurate this all sounded. Even though you were not a liar, and he could take your word for it, he just couldn’t seem to think of himself how you did. “Guess it's just a lot to take in..”

You’d painted him in such a heroic light, he wasn’t sure that heroic was a word that fit him very well, much less at all. All he knew of himself was a selfish loner, who occasionally did the right thing out of obligation and not duty.

“It is… take your time,” you tried your best to reel in the happiness you’d felt, because even though being here with him made you feel better… he was trying to remember himself, and maybe this wasn’t helping.

“And the woman I was with, did you know her?”

You hoped he wouldn’t ask about her, you didn’t want to disappoint him.

“I don't remember. She looked familiar, but I couldn't tell you who she was,” you think you saw her with Stryker a few times, but never by his side, always behind him, following orders. “She died not long after the breakout, the professor found her after he’d come back for the remaining survivors...”

He seemed deep in thought, facing the doors of the cellblock again and clenching his fists… was he remembering something?

“And I was with her, this woman?” the way he said it implied the depth of what he was really asking.

“From what I gathered at the time, yeah… but I wasn't in the best condition, so I could have just made it all up in my head. I definitely remember you, though.”

At this he turned back to face you, coming closer and lifting his lips in the very corners to resemble a not quite smile. It still turned your stomach in the best way.

“I'm just unforgettable, huh?”

“Completely unforgettable. This is a part of my life that I have worked hard and trained myself to forget, but I remembered you instantly…” you confessed, not daring to look away from him now, when he was so clearly latched onto you. It didn’t matter what you said at this point, you were sure he must have known something of your feelings by now.

“Because I could touch you.”

You shook your head. “It was more than that. I'd never seen anything like you before.”

“Is that a good thing?” He teased, his full smile finally returning once the air felt lighter again.

You thought about that day. He’d come running through like a true action hero, saving everyone in his path. He had been here for something else entirely, you think, but he stopped to save you and the others. He’d been wearing a white beater that night, his shoulders glistening with sweat while his hair bounced with every step he took. It was longer then. The determined look in his eyes was something you also noticed, and the way they softened when he steadied you to your feet, touching your skin as no one had for over two hundred years. Yes, seeing him was a very good thing.

“Oh yeah, trust me.”

Having searched for other abandoned entry points of the base, and being unsuccessful, you opted to leave, but it had grown dark out, and there was no way you could hike all the way back to the motorcycle before the cold winds set in. It was too dark to even navigate the grounds, anyways.

It was decided that you could set up a makeshift camp within the escape tunnel, as it was just slightly warmer than the outside.

Logan didn’t talk much after leaving the base. He’d been all fun and games until he realized you both had finally made it to the place with the answers, but there were none. He didn’t take his frustrations out on you, but he didn’t exactly ignore them, either. In fact, he took to ignoring you instead. You tried striking up a conversation with him, and found he was in too sour a mood, and every comment you made about little things, like the sleeping bag in your backpack, or the water flask kept in his, he seemed to just grunt out a response to get back to the quiet.

It wasn’t until the dead cold of the night that you’d been shivering your ass off, that you even dared to speak to him again.

“This storm's getting worse… I'm gonna freeze to death.”

He rolled over from his sleeping bag on the ground, a slanted brow on his face and a huff when he saw that you were truly cold. He was not in a good mood, and he didn’t want to deal with more bad situations.

“I thought you couldn’t die…” he grumbled, leaning up on one arm. You were curled up into a ball, all your layers on your body and the sleeping bag, but the snow was falling hard and fast outside, probably sealing you both into this icy tunnel.

“I can't be killed. I can still technically die,” you explained, furthering the lore on your powers. He mentally added it to the list. Almost immortal, but not really so much in snowstorms.

“Then why are you still alive?” He mumbled sarcastically, trying not to be an asshole to the only person he was dependent on the past few days.

“Because I'm careful.”

You sat up, and in the dim light he could see how pale you’d gotten, your lips a shade of cold purple instead of the soft pink they normally held.

“Aren't you made of energy? Just warm yourself up…” He suggested, as if you hadn’t thought of that. It wasn’t even in your ability wheel.

“I'm made of matter and antimatter, I don't radiate heat,” you argued, trying to maintain a sense of calm while being cold enough to power a refrigerator.

“Fine, you know what? I'm not walking you back to the bike, just get over here,” he let out, holding open the sleeping bag for you to scoot into. You’d done so as quickly as possible, letting him drop his arm back over you in an instant. Already you could feel the fiery feeling he gave off into the air.

“How are you so warm?”

“I don't know,” he shook his head, closing his eyes and trying to go to sleep. He wanted to be up with the sun tomorrow, so he could get back to the motel and get some quality rest.

“You don’t know why you feel like a toaster?” You joked with a sweet smile, but were quickly reminded he wasn’t in the mood.

“Do you ever stop talking?”

“Sorry.”

In truth, he did feel bad about treating you like that. You’d done so much for him, and all he’d done was snap at you when he realized the answers he was looking for were still locked up. He pulled you tighter in his arms, holding you close as if uttering a physical apology. I’m sorry for being a dick, but thank you for being so kind to me anyways.

Having found warmth in you, and another feeling that cannot be described outside of perhaps the simple word: safety, Logan slept better than he had in weeks, months, even. Hell, he doesn’t know if he’s ever slept like this, waking up naturally, well rested and without a nightmare in sight.

It was late in the afternoon, and he woke up feeling a sense of peace that he didn’t go to bed with. He’d been settled. His anger and annoyance about the failed objective made his skin crawl when the snow had been pouring down, the storm covering the ground with several inches of a white, fluffy covering.

Knowing it had been very late in the night when you finally were able to sleep, he didn’t want to wake you, but being wrapped around you like a cocoon while you slept would make it very hard to even sit up without causing you to stir.

He figured he could wake you up, now, take you back to the motel so you could finish resting while he took a walk, or visited the bar. It had approached his mind the night before, that he would probably go and get wasted at the establishment to try and fill the void that had been left empty by the lack of answers.

Slowly, he unraveled the twisted limbs and sleeping bags, hearing your soft grumbling of discomfort when you came to. You weren’t fully awake, and your arms grabbed at him, trying to pull him back in subconsciously while your moaning and groaning persisted. He let out a small chuckle at the actions, like that of a child grabbing for the security of its mother.

“Rise and shine, princess,” He joked, trying to maneuver himself away.

You finally remembered where you were, and realized that Logan was the source of warmth that had been keeping you so still and secure.

“Hey,” you let out with a furrowed brow, wiping over your eyes to try and dull the ache of opening them too soon. “What time is it?”

“Not sure, it might be noon,” he guessed, standing on his feet and beginning to collect everything that was still scattered about on the ground of the tunnel.

You were silent for a minute, nodding your head and beginning to become more coherent with every minute passed. You soon joined him on collecting things that needed packing away, but did so with a sentiment passed along.

“I’m sorry we didn’t find anything here,” you murmured quietly.

He almost had to do a double take… Why were you apologizing? You’d done him a great service by coming here to try and help him, no matter the results.

“S’not your fault,” he furrowed his brow in response. “I’m sorry for treating you like shit last night. Just because I’m mad doesn’t mean I have to take it out on you.”

“Don’t be sorry. If I was in your place I’d be angry, too.”

The way you looked at him was astonishing. Like he’d hung every star in the sky. You looked at him and he felt like no matter the atrocities he knows he’s capable of, and the memories he can’t reach, he could do no wrong. Nothing he ever did was bad in your eyes. It was an empowering feeling, but also a curious one. You are far greater of a person than he is, and he knows it… so why do you look at him like this?

The answer is simple, you’re in love with him. He’s the first person you can touch, which is a huge factor, but aside from that, he is kind to you, and genuinely, not just because he has to be.

He remembers what Charles told him before he left. Ask her about a man named Charlie…

“I uh…” he trailed, watching you where you sat, packing away your water flask and flashlight. “I had a talk with the professor before we left a few days ago.”

“About what?”

“About you, mostly. He told me I was in safe hands,” among other things, but he wouldn’t mention that. “And he told me that when you were ready I could ask you about a man…”

“A man?” You raised your brows in surprise. You weren’t sure if you knew what you were supposed to tell him.

“Yeah, a man… his name was Charlie?”

He could see it, the instant the name left his lips. Your face fell and your brain had to work overtime to try and return it to something neutral, and less traumatized. Your silence made him think that maybe he crossed a line. If you hadn’t been ready to talk about this man, then he’d just made a huge mistake. He doesn’t know who this fellow is, but he clearly did something to you.

“Are you alright?” Logan knelt down, interrupting your blank stare. He could see the memories flashing behind your eyes, the thoughts winding up in your head.

“Yes,” you shook out of it, but your smile didn’t come back. “I’ve been around people that know about him for a long time, I didn’t think I’d ever have to retell the story.”

“You don’t have to,” he shook his head, a hand raising to your arm to try and bring comfort. “I assume it’s a sad story?”

“The worst one I know…” you trailed, finally giving a small quirk of your lip in a smile. Looking at Logan for too long made it impossible to scowl forever. “It’s been a hundred and thirty some years just about.”

He whistled long and low, sitting down across from you to fully pay attention.

“I started working in a farm house in Virginia in the Eighteen Sixties. I kept to myself as best I could, making beds, doing laundry, washing dishes. Best paying job I’d ever had so I stayed as long as I could…” you trailed, taking a deep breath to introduce the main character of this story. “There was a stable boy there, worked the farm for the family for years before he got promoted to caring for the horses. I hadn’t met him until about two months of being there.”

“He’s Charlie?” Logan lifted a brow inquisitively, fully engrossed in the history you were sharing. You nodded your head to confirm.

“He’s Charlie. He was only nineteen years old… he was the only person that I’d barely ever talked to that grew fond of me. I didn’t even have to do anything,” you joked, dipping your head and remembering the way it all went back then. “He used to volunteer to help me hang laundry just so we could talk.”

“Classy guy,” Logan teased, watching your face light up with the way you were recalling everything.

“He was, and so gentlemanly… The day he found out about me being what I am, it was a complete accident. Long story short, I killed a chicken. He took the blame for it, and at the end of the day, the family ate it for dinner.”

“He knew about you?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, another smile spreading. “He didn’t care. He’d never touched me before, and knowing that he never could… he still didn’t care.”

You sighed, the bliss of the memory fading from view when the next part resurfaced.

“I fell in love with him, and eventually he asked me to marry him. Obviously, I said yes,” you paused for a moment, heaving a sigh as tears backed your eyes. “The day we left for town to get married, there was an accident… Some drunk men with a gun were messing around like assholes, and one thing led to another. They started firing off rounds in our direction, and I knew I could block the bullets, but I hadn’t told Charlie that. He tried to save me, tried to pull me out of the way…”

You couldn’t even finish the sentence, but Logan already knew.

“You touched him…” he filled in the blank, watching you blink away the tears that started to fall. Your silent and weak nod was heartbreaking, and in under two seconds flat, Logan had his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close to him to feel comforted. He was the only one who could do this, and after hearing your story of a lost love, he knew how much it meant.

He is grateful to you and owes you a lot. Being your shoulder to cry on is the least he can do in a situation like this, where you seemed like you just needed someone to hold onto.

“It’s been a long time,” you mumbled, sniffing to try and block more tears from falling. Being in Logan’s embrace made it better. “I thought he was the love of my life… but I’ve lived so much of my life now without him.”

“I’m sorry,” he ran a hand over your hair, tucking your head under his chin.

“I just wish he'd been something like you…”

“Something like me?” He asked, unsure of what you could mean. The way you described him, he seemed perfect. A gentleman, a protector, someone who loved you so much that he was willing to go through life without the most basic of relationship necessities. He didn’t feel like he could compare.

“Immune to my mutation.”

Your clarification made him understand, and maybe he shouldn’t have uttered his next words, but he did, fully knowing the answer.

“I’m guessing no one else has been,” he let out, beginning to loosen his hold on you.

You’d backed away and looked him in the eyes with your teary, puffy red ones.

“So far, only you.”

“I’m sorry, that sounds lonely.” His embrace didn’t leave, but he dropped your gaze for a moment to try and think about what that must be like. To not only be without that kind of comfort, but to constantly have to avoid it at all costs.

“S’not so bad anymore. You’re pretty decent company, and you don’t seem to hate being around me... I’d say I lucked out.” You leaned back into his arms, laying your head on his shoulder this time as you took a deep inhale. The scent of him was intoxicating, and the way he was constantly warm felt like an invitation in itself.

He didn’t move you, or make you go anywhere. He knew that if he’d been stuck here for days that it would have to be endured for your sake. After hearing of the tragedy in your past, he felt you deserved to sit here in silence, safely and securely wrapped in his strong arms.

Tags: @ayamenimthiriel l @levislegislation @reidsworld @melsunshine @clairealeehelsing @fries11 @burkayyy @d3ad2you @insanesosciopath @scream4mami @marifilue

#logan howlett #logan howlet x reader #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett smut #logan x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x mutant reader #logan howlett x oc #wolverine fanfiction #x men wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine smut #deadpool and wolverine #logan wolverine

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wosowrites · 1 year ago

Text

Good Girl (Ona Batlle x Reader)

warnings: smut, pr@ise k!nk

a/n: based off this request here and it is not proof read sorry.

prompt: in which it’s Ona and the readers first time sleeping together so the reader gets really nervous, resulting in Ona taking over and showing her dominant side.

You were extremely outgoing. You were the loudest in the changing rooms, the one who played the music, the first on the dance floor and the last to back down from a challenge. When you scored the opening goal or any goal during a tournament you made sure the whole stadium could hear your screams of joy. Your celebrations were famous throughout the women’s football community. So that’s why no one could have ever expected how absolutely nervous and almost submissive you were in bed.

When Ona found this out… she could not have been more pleased.

There had been some flirting between you and Ona for a year now. But it was very hard to tell what was just good old spanish friendliness and what was genuine romantic interest. The line was thin.

Ona would hold you close to her for long periods of time, guide you by your waist through crowds, kiss your cheek dangerously close to your lips, let her hand rest low on your hips and make a point of hugging you often when you were out on swim trips together. Nothing drove her more insane than the feeling of your skin on hers.

But neither of you had ever given in to your desires, both assuming the other wasn’t interested. You proved the other wrong in a hotel pool.

Manchester was playing Aston Villa in London and Mark had decided to let the team have the day off in London so the team would be arriving 24 hours before the game, spending the night at a hotel and then having a quick morning training session before the 3:00 pm game.

You all walked London, checking out landmarks and eating strongly mediocre food. Although your english was flawless and you barely had an accent, you were french Canadian and had played in France so you often missed the food in France.

By 9:00 most girls were lying in bed as instructed, but because you were rooming by yourself this time around due to an un even number of people there was no one to tell you to stay in bed. So, you slipped your bathing suit on and headed to the roof where there was a pool.

You loved swimming, especially in London spring. It was chilly and the water, cold as well, made your body feel good and helped you forget about every worry and unwelcome thought in your head.

You climbed to the roof, happy to see it deserted. You threw your towel to the side and then dived into the deep end. You loved the water so much because when you were around water during your childhood, it was one of the rare times you were happy. You let the water consume you and wash away your thoughts. You thoughts of tomorrows game, thoughts of the fight against Canada Soccer, thoughts of Ona…

But the second your brain wandered to Ona you couldn’t help it. When Ona was in your brain, so was her body. The way her hand we’re carved out to perfection, the shape of her chest under her training top and the way her arms flexed when she took shots.

All these thoughts ran through your head in only a couple seconds and then you emerged out of the water.

"Night swim?" a voice asked while your eyes were still closed due to you recently emerging from the water.

"Holy crap. Do not sneak up on me like that!" you squealed, opening your eyes and pushing your hair back and away from your face. "Sorry chica," Ona said with a wink.

You swam towards her to the edge of the pool, crossing your arms on the deck and looking up at her. The spaniard slipped off her shorts and hoodie, revealing her abs, arm muscles and tattoos. You stared to say the least until Ona snapped her fingers in front of your face, making you blush. "Sorry," you mumbled. "Don’t apologize, I’m looking at you too," she said, dipping her feet into the pool.

It was hard to tell with the young defender, hard to know what was flirting and what was just classic Ona.

"The waters really nice," you said to her, pushing your feet against the wall and gliding on your back, away from Ona and into the shallow end.

You held eye contact with the brunette, until a glow came across her face. "How much trouble do you think we would get in if we skinny dipped?" Ona said, walking around the pool towards you.

"Skinny dipping?!" you shrieked, taken aback and sounding a little more childish and stuck up than you wanted. You wanted the spaniard to think of you as being fun and loose. "Yeah y/l/n," she answered with a playful smirk. "Well. Jeez I think we’d get in a lot of trouble," you answered with a concerned frown on your face. "So you’re saying you wouldn’t like it?" Ona said, pushing a little further.

She had never seen this side of you before. You were always loud, energetic, and borderline agressive. This? This was different.

"No! I mean. No. I-yes. Yes I would like it," you blushed, starting to head into Ona’s direction.

She watched you with unblinking eyes as you swam up to her and stood up in the shallow end. Ona sat down with her toes in the water and spread her legs slightly for you to stand between, focusing on the small piece of cloth keeping you decent. "There aren’t any cameras, I asked," Ona said to you, looking up from your chest and into your eyes. "Something about not violating the privacy of the clients. Hotel policy," she added. "Mhm," you said softly, looking up into Ona’s eyes.

Your angle gave her a perfect view of you. Your wet hair, your sparkling body decorated with droplets of water. "You look beautiful," Ona said softly, just barely audible over the sound of the street below and your racing heart. "Where is all of this coming from?" you said softly, suddenly avoiding eye contact with her. "It’s coming from the fact that you are beautiful. Not just right now but always. And I may have had a drink and one drink Ona is extremely confident," she said, using her index to lift your chin.

The spaniard was now sitting on the edge of the pool with only a red bathing suit on to cover her up. Her stomach was toned and her arms were strong. Not in a threatening way, just in a hot way.

"No cameras, you said?" you whispered, your voice a hushed sound. "No cameras," she said, leaning back and subtly flexing her abdominals.

You were still standing between her legs and you gently placed your hands on her thighs, digging your nails into them softly and surely leaving little crescents on her skin. She didn’t even flinch.

Ona sat up straight and then stood up, giving you a look to follow her. You pushed yourself out of the pool and stood facing the slightly taller girl.

Her eyes were dark and hungry, but also warm and welcoming. She had always had that contrast. The one of always being alert and the one of being laid back. It was a strange mix.

The spaniard turned around and moved her loose hair out of the way, brining it to lie on her front. You saw that the back of her suit was tied by a string and slowly, with shaking hands, you lifted them up and grabbed both ends of the tie.

The way the strings fell apart freely and then slipped off Ona’s shoulder sent your body into over drive. You stood with your hands hovering over her bare back until she slowly turned around to face you. Your eyes brushed over her bare chest before landing on her eyes. "You’re beautiful. Tu est tellement parfaite." You told her adoringly. She smiled at you, a big toothy grin before slipping her thumbs under her bikini bottom and pulling it off.

You mimicked her, letting her unclasp the back of your bathing suit and then letting it fall to the ground. She put her hands on your waist and turned you around.

You felt like a ballerina.

A super gay, super secretly in love ballerina.

Ona slipped off your bottoms and then cupped your face gently. "Ready?" she asked you, her voice steady while you knew yours would be hectic. "Yeah," you let out.

Ona went in first, lowering herself to the pool and then turning to face you. You threw a worried glance behind your shoulder, half expecting someone to come in screaming at you both, but no one did. So, you walked down the stairs leading to the pool and pushed your way towards Ona. "I can’t believe we’re doing this," you laughed, avoiding eye contact with her. "I can’t believe your so shy. You’re usually loud and excited. Confident," she added.

"I’m not not confident… this is just new," you said, raising your head.

You gently placed your hands on Ona’s hips and rubbed your thumbs around her hip bone. The taller girl gently pulled you in by pushing your lower back closer to her. You moved your hands up from her hips to her ribs and then down to her ass. "Kiss me," you said to her, looking between her eyes and lips.

She did not have to be begged, within milliseconds her lips were trapped into yours, her hands had found shelter on your ass before slipping down to your thighs to pull your legs around her waist. You roughly kissed back, letting her hands roam your hair and using your abs to hold yourself up onto her. Ona’s hands traced every curve, every perfection, every part of yourself that you deemed an imperfection but she thought beautiful. You wrapped your arms loosely around her neck, playing with her baby hairs and scratching the back of her head with your nails. Ona took strides through the water to drop you onto the side of the pool, only separating your lips when necessary.

"Ona," you said to her tentatively as you sat on the poolside, avoiding her eyes. "Yes, mi amor," she said, holding you down gently by placing her hands on your thighs. "I’ve never… done this before," you said, thankful for the dark sky as your cheeks got flushed. "What do you mean? Sex? You’ve never had sex?" she asked, slightly shocked. "Ona! Of course I have," you groaned, pushing her slightly and making her send you a classic dazzling smile. "I mean something like this. In this setting. This is… daring," you told her. "Well then, you’re in luck pretty girl. Spaniards love the extra risk," she said.

Ona put her hand on your chest and pushed you down into a laying position. The taller girl bends your knees and places kisses on your thighs before spreading them to her liking. She took no time and gave you no warning before slipping a finger into you. You were already wet from her kissing you and un clothing you, your walls closing around her and making her laugh at you.

Ona pumped her middle finger into you, curling it from time to time and making you arch your back and try to grab on to the concrete desperately.

"Good god, look at you you’re doing such a good job, cariña," Ona praised.

Her words caught you off guard, your eyes flying open and a small smile forming on your face. Your hips bucked and your legs shook, partly from the oncoming orgasm and partly from the effect of her words. Ona chuckled at you as a wave of courage came over you.

"Ona. I need to come, touch me please," you begged her. "One thing at a time mi vida."

The defender made it seem as though she wouldn’t relieve you immediately, but how wrong you were. A couple seconds later, Ona had pulled out her fingers, leaving you with an uncomfortable empty feeling before pushing her face in between your legs. The brunette swiped her tongue through your lips before harshly pressing it against your clit.

Your hips went flying off the surface, grinding into her head and pushing your wetness more and more into her face. She could have gotten high off your smell and the way you slapped your hand over your mouth to muffle the cries of her name.

Ona was clearly experienced, the girl finding the perfect balance of sweet spots praise, and pleasure. You never wanted her to stop.

But eventually, when the spaniard dragged her nails over your bare abs and then latched onto your nipple, there was nothing more you could do to elongate the feeling of her face between your legs. You came onto her shaking and crying out, feeling slightly embarrassed at how easily she had made you cum.

Your hands fell to your sides as your chest heaved heavily, the heat in your stomach slightly fading but the ache in between your legs still present.

You heard movement in the water and soon enough the naked brunette was towering over you. "You did such a good job pretty girl," she said, looking down at you with a teasing smirk.

You knew your face turned bright red when the heat in your stomach transferred to your face.

Ona held out her hand and you grabbed it happily, letting her pull you up. You weren’t on your feet long though as your legs gave out, making Ona grab you underneath the arms and hold you steady. "You okay?" she asked you lovingly, her eyes wide and concerned, hoping not to have hurt you. "Yes. More than, It’s just been a while and you’re…" you gave her a little 'you know' look and she smiled.

Despite being not so tall, she was strong. Before you knew it, you were being carried bridal style towards picnic tables on the pool deck. You rested your head on Ona’s chest and closed your eyes for a couple seconds before opening them. "Wait. I want too- to you. I’m not a pillow princesse," you said to her, looking up. "Another day amor you’re clearly tired," she answered.

The spaniard sat you onto the table and grabbed your towel, gently using it to wipe you down. You surely hadn’t realized how much love was in your eyes as she helped you get dressed into your bathing suit again, but she did. She noticed how dilated your pupils were and how your hands grazed her and held on to her every time she was near.

"Thank you," you told her, leading her to stand between your legs once she was clothed as well. Ona dipped her head and rested it on yours, rubbing her thumb on your cheekbones. You raised yours pull her in by the waist before tilting your head and kissing her sweetly.

#woso fic #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso #canwnt #espwnt #ona batlle #woso smut #man united #man united women’s

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wearebarca · 8 months ago

Text

2. Captured // // Alexia Putellas x Original character

Part 1 Part 2

synopsis: Rosalie has never stayed too long at the same place. When the opportunity of a lifetime presents itself critical moment in her life, the photographer decides to once again leave behind what she knows and joins the staff of Europe's best football team.

word count: 5,7K

18 + (eventually)

A/N: Currently procrastinating instead of finishing my thesis on "The methods of repression used during the first Christian Inquisition" Spanish is from google translate so please be nice. French is my first language so all should be good on that part. Enjoy.

As soon as the words left her lips, Rosalie knew that she would be in for a world of teasing from the two women who still stood behind her. She had hoped that even with the few years she had spent playing in France, Lucy had not picked up enough French to understand what she had said, but the burst of giggles that was heard quickly killed all her hopes. The confused look plastered on the Catalonian made the French-Canadian turn an even darker shade of red.

“ Perdon? I am sorry I do not understand,”

“Oh no I’m sorry, I got my languages mixed up. I’m Rosalie” She extended her hand for the captain to shake.

“Rosalia? It is nice to meat you, I am Alexia, Welcome to Barcelona ,” Her hand was much bigger than her own, calloused from all her training. The blond never broke eye contact from the smaller brunette who did not dare to look away.

A cough finally broke the girls from their interaction. Lucy and Keira were still there, but another woman had joined them. “ We hope you enjoy it here,” Alexia let her hand go and made her way back to Mapi, who was looking at her with a raised eyebrow and a cheeky smile hovering on her lips, which earned her a loud smack behind the head.

“ Hola chica, I’m Sara, one of the coaches, welcome to the team,” she hugged the Canadian like she had known the woman for years, “we just wanted to tell you that if you would like, we could go over your training together! We’d love to help if you need.” The woman’s enthusiasm made it hard for the photographer to refuse which led them to set up a time the following week for a run together. It was indeed a good proposition since her marathon was quickly approaching and a professional opinion on her training routine wouldn’t be a bad thing.

Soon enough, all the introductions were made and Rosalie was left once again alone with Lucy, who was still giggling about her friend’s encounter with her captain. Seeing as the girl was showing signs of being a little overstimulated, she decided to drag her to the locker room. Once inside, she shoved Keira’s spare boots in her hands and pushed the younger girl back to the pitch. Back at England’s national camp, especially during the last one they spent together, whenever Rosalie felt like the world was spinning too fast around her, Lucy would pull her aside and pass the ball with her. This would always relax the brunette and help her talk about whatever was on her mind.

« Are we even allowed to do this” she asked as she kicked the ball right at Lucy’s feet.

“We have twenty minutes before the end of training and I am not going back in there.” She said wincing “ And don’t worry, the staff does this all the time” she kicked it back to Rosalie, the ball flying to her chest, absorbing the shock before falling to her feet.

“Your captain seems intense”

“ oh oui madame elle est très intense.” The younger woman's eyes rolled so far she would have caught a glimpse of her frontal lobe

“ Got you a little nervous didn’t she”

“ Don’t even start Bronze” While she was distracted, Rosalie stole the ball from Lucy’s feet and sent it to the top right corner of the goal. A few cheers could be heard from the gym where a few players had gathered.

“Some defender you are” the younger woman said as she started to walk toward the building. She turned around just in time to see Lucy lunge towards her and grab her by the waist to hoist her on her shoulder like a potato sack.

Lunch arrived soon after and everyone made their exit towards the cafeteria. Rosalie sat at the table with the rest of the media team whom she hadn’t had the chance to meet yet. Everyone was very welcoming, especially Marcello who was one of the marketing guys and Isabella who is the head of social media and the face of barça’s media. Marcello is a very laid back guy with an easy laugh while Isabella was a whirlwind of colours, energy and excitement. The both of them together completed each other and quickly included the Canadian in their conversation, speaking in English and slowed down Spanish for her to understand.

Even with the cacophony of voices and constant back and forth between tables, at the other side of the room, Alexia seemingly could not take her eyes away from the brunette who’s bright green eyes had not left her mind. A sharp pinch on her arm pulled her from her day dream. “ If you stare harder she might combust, you know.”

Mapi had watched her friend stare for a good ten minutes before feeling bad for the brunette across the room. « You can talk to her you know, you’d like her she seems like a simple girl. »

« Mhm »

« She’s gonna fit well here, have you seen her instagram? She is very talented and obviously very beautiful and… » The blond captain tuned out her friend who she knew was going on one of her rants and didn’t need the blond's participation in this one-sided conversation.

The truth was that the catalonian did not know how to feel toward the new photographer. She had never been a big fan of the media team. She knew that they were simply doing their jobs but she had always hated this part of professional football. The eyes constantly watching her, her private life exposed for profit, she simply wasn’t comfortable whenever a camera was near.

She didn’t hate the previous head photographer, but she never bothered to be more than courteous towards her. For some reason, this time, there was something different, she was curious about the canadian.

The afternoon went fast for Rosalie. An official meeting with the media team, more documents to sign and more hands to shake. The brunette was itching to take her camera and go down to the pitch to start on some training pictures, which she did as soon as she was free to leave management’s office.

It was now around two in the afternoon and the sun was shining bright on the training pitch. The whole team was out and playing a practice game and the photographer took this as an opportunity to take a few shots. She had heard Spanish football and how different but these girls were definitely on a different level and seeing them in action for the firing time was truly impressive, the woman thought as she watched the ball fly towards the goal, the shot so precise and powerful that Sandra Paños had no chance to block it.

It did not take long before she was running around the pitch with her camera in hand. Her hair was up in a ponytail and she could feel her baby hairs stick to her forehead. The heat was getting to the photographer who had rolled the sleeves of her t-shirt and was currently cursing her choice of pants. Heat wasn’t her cup of tea. Even after a month here she still wasn’t used to the temperature. She was Canadian after all, the cold was more her element. Even under the unforgiving sun, her eyes were glued to the viewfinder, her mind set on the scenery around her and the heat wasn’t even an afterthought.

Rosalie managed to get a couple decent shots of the girls in action that she ended up showing to Mapi and Patri who kept shouting something about who was the hottest one in Spanish.

Everytime her eye left the camera, The brunette could feel a piercing gaze stuck on her, the eyes belonging to none other than Barcelona’s captain. Even though she had caught her staring, Alexia’s hazel eyes wouldn’t stray. The French-Canadian would send a shy smile her way which would break her trance, and then the blond would simply go back to the game without acknowledging her even the slightest.. By the third time, Rosalie simply stopped acknowledging her and just focused on her work. If the blond didn’t bother to be polite, then she didn't have to be either.

After an hour outside, she finally decided that she had enough material and headed back to her office. She made a stop at Martina’s office to discuss which pictures would go in today’s post and ended up agreeing to go get coffee tomorrow morning before work. The rest of the afternoon was spent on editing the pictures she had taken and working on some more from the night before. She had had an idea during her little meeting with the media team. A project that would serve as a thank you for the never ending support of the Barça fans and she was really excited. This project would take up a lot of her schedule, but after only a month in Barcelona, she had seen how spirited and dedicated the fans were and she thought it was important for them to know that their club was infinitely thankful for them.

A knock on the door pulled her from her work and her eyes quickly shifted to the door.

“ It’s half past five, why are you still here?”

Keira was standing in her doorway, changed and bag in hand, ready to go home after a particularly demanding training day. She half thought that the younger brunette would be gone by now but she wasn’t surprised when she saw her still at her desk, ready glasses low on the bridge of her nose, completely focused on her computer screen.

“ I just want to finish these for tomorrow, it has to be perfect.” Her eyes strayed back to her computer but she could still hear the other woman walk around her desk and lean over her shoulder. A picture of Alexia standing on the sides lines, arms crossed and face scrunched up in a concentrated expression was currently in the process of being reframed and adjusted.

“These are good.”

“Thank you,” she scrolled on the lot to show her more, “ Everyone looks so happy, besides..”

“It’s normal, you won’t catch her smiling, especially these days” she said it so casually, Rosalie felt bad for the woman.

“Pressure?”

“Most likely” she said “ Come on, we’re coming over to your place tonight, you gotta prepare.”

“Says who?”

“ Your big sister, we know you’re far from unpacked. We’re coming to help.” She said, grabbing Rosalie’s bag on her way out.

“We’re bringing take out” That was all it took to convince the Canadian to put away her laptop and follow the woman out of the training grounds.

She had not realized just how badly she needed a night like this. The last time she had spent the night goofing around with her best friend was almost a year ago during international break and she had missed her friends dearly ever since. As the brunette had predicted, the couple arrived shortly after her, still in their training kits, claiming that this was as much their apartment as Rosalie’s which meant that they had the right to shower here if they pleased. While Lucy was gone, Keira had set up the kitchen island as a table while Rosalie was busy rummaging through her boxes to find two additional plates and cutlery.

“ How long have you been here? A month? And you still have this many boxes lying around?”

“What can I say, all I really need is out and the rest could wait… indefinitely.” She ducked fast enough for the placemat to miss her head by an inch.

“ By the end of the night I’m telling you, you’ll be all set and you’ll owe us a round at the pub.”

By the end of the night, they had managed to take care of most of the boxes and made a list of what items were missing for this palace to become a real home. The couple ended up staying late, and would surely regret this at training the next day. It was truly like no time had passed since they had last seen each other. The evening was full of laughs and stories shared but the girls on their respective journeys since they had last been together. Rosalie would not admit it, but she truly needed a night like this. She felt so happy to finally be surrounded by her family, and the prospect of being able to see them a lot more often made this place feel like it could finally be somewhere she considers home.

The rest of the week was more or less the same. Rosalie started her days by going to get coffee with Mapi and Ingrid, who quickly became good friends, or Martina. She loved the woman’s constant smiling and contagious energy and quickly found out that the head of social media was the woman to go see if you wanted to know the latest gossip amongst the Barcelona team and staff members.

Friday was her last day of the week at the training center and was scheduled to be a very busy day. The morning would be filled with meetings and a presentation for the special fan project she had come up with. Then she had several shoots planned with the girls that would take place in her office. This alone would take the whole afternoon and Rosalie knew that when she would leave for the weekend, she would be exhausted. She knew that she would need all the energy she could get which is why she was currently on her way to the coffee shop with both Ingrid and Mapi by her side.

Upon entering the shop, the girls beside the photographer both stopped in their tracks and turned towards the counter. A tall blond woman was currently leaning with her back against the counter and her hands in her pockets. The shop was almost empty so the three girls entering made enough noise to pull Alexia out of her thoughts. She recognized easily the voice of the tattooed woman and the Norwegian but, the third voice sent chills down her back and the woman froze, keeping her eyes on the floor, half hoping that the trio would make their way to the register without noticing her. But of course, as if the universe was against her, her name was called by the barista.

“Alexia, chica, cómo estás?” Mapi made her way towards her captain, leaving the photographer and Ingrid at the counter.

“ Bien, ¿Por qué estás aquí tan temprano?” Usually on fridays, training started a little later, so the blond did not understand why the couple was here so early instead of relaxing at home like they usually did.

“ Ambos tenemos fisioterapia esta mañana, pensamos que tomaríamos un café con Rosalie antes de nuestras citas.”

“ Ah si, fisoterapia,” Eversince the photographer’s arrival in the small shop, the blond was hyper aware of everything happening around her. The sound, the wiring of the espresso machines, the sound of spoons hitting the rim of the cup, the shuffling of sneakers on the hardwood floors. When a delicate smell of coconut and argan oil came to her, she did not need to turn around to know that the reason for her nervousness was standing next to her.

The photographer was just as nervous as the footballer. All week she had seen the captain’s behavior change every time she would walk in a room or on the pitch. The captain would either avoid the brunette and stare from afar or simply leave the room she was in. At first, she thought it was simply because the woman was shy and needed time to warm up to new people, but that theory quickly fell once she had seen the taller woman interact with journalists and strangers. Now standing so close to the woman,the French-Canadian did not know if she should ignore her or try to engage with the mysterious woman.

Surprisingly, it was Alexia who made the first move. “ I heard you will have a big day today with the annual team shoot.”

“ Oh oui, it’s going to be a busy one I'm afraid, but I’m excited to work more closely with you all, I never get to see you guys outside of training settings so this should be fun!” She said, clearly excited to get to do a little studio work. The clear happiness on the smaller girl's face made the blond smile slightly.

“ I do not know if you will still be happy once you have a bunch of children running around in your office.”

“ Hey! We are not so bad.” Mapi said, hitting her friend on the shoulder.

“I love you darling but yes you are.” Ingrid had her arms crossed and was smiling fondly at her girlfriend who was pouting slightly.

Silence fell on the group as they watched a mother and her little girl entering the shop. Sensing that the atmosphere was starting to be a little awkward considering no one was going to talk, Ingrid decided to steer the conversation towards something she knew would appeal to everyone. “ Are you guys excited about the match next friday”

The team was playing Sevilla next Friday and this would be Rosalie’s first away game. She had a feeling they would ask her to join the team to see how it usually goes. As the head photographer, she would usually not have to make the trip every single time but shetought it was important that for the few next away games, she would come along and experience the whole ordeal herself.

“ Sevilla is always entertaining to play. Besides, we will get the whole day after the match to go around the city.” The blond responded. “ You will come with us, I heard.” She added turning slightly towards the brunette.

“ They haven’t told me anything yet but I can only assume that if they told you I was coming then it means I’ll be there.” At that, the blond catalonian let a small smile graze her lips. The sight made the photographer melt a little on the spot.

« Good, it will be a good game » an awkward silence fell on the little group.They were all waiting on Alexia to add something but the woman stayed silent, staring down at the smaller girl. From closer, the Canadian realized that in order to look Alexia in the eyes, she had to tilt her head up quite a bit. Combined to her intense gaze, the height difference made the blond Catalonian look even more intimidating which added to the Canadian’s inability to speak at the moment. Thankfully for both, Alexia’s name was called once again by the barista which allowed the smaller brunette to relax while the captain went to finally pick up her order. She quickly walked back to the small group and handed Rosalie a cup that smells exactly like her favourite coffee.

« te veré en el entrenamiento chicas » she said, quickly exiting the shop without sparing another glance towards the confused photographer.

« What did I do? »

« What do you mean? »

“She must hate me to act so weird when I’m around » She said as she took the coffee that she had ordered herself the counter, Ingrid trailing behind her, carrying her own order and Map’s since the woman had ran out after Alexia.

« She’s very closed off. It’s always been hard when newcomers arrive in the team. '' She said, while staring down at her feet. “ She did get you a cup of coffee so I don't think that she hates you.” She added. In her mind, it was clear that the Norwegian was keeping something from her just by the way she would not meet the photographer's eyes while talking.

“ Speaking of coffee, how did she know my favorite?”

“ Martina”

“ Mais quelle fouineuse celle-là”

“ What?”

“Oh nothing,”

When they arrived at the center, the Spanish women were near the entrance, deep in conversation. The rapid spanish rambling was completely lost on the French-Canadian who was starting to think about asking about those intensive lessons management had offered her. She made a mental note to ask later today and decided that she had had enough awkwardness for today and wanted to save the small amount of energy she had left from her first week to focus on the day ahead. She would thank the captain for the coffee when it would be her shoot in the afternoon.

Just like she had predicted, Rosalie’s day started at a hundred miles an hour with multiple meetings. One of them being an update on the fan project she was currently working on. She also met up with management about the game on wednesday and got the travel details. She would travel with the team and be seated with the girls on the plane and bus so she would be able to capture as much content as she could during the trip. She would be the only member of the photography team to go since the rest was working on a side project that involved the second team and youth club, so for the sleeping arrangements, she would most likely room with a random coach or therapist but nothing was sure yet. Being the only photographer on the trip meant that Rosalie would have twice as much work as usual which put her on edge a little but nonetheless, she was excited at the prospect of her first trip with her new team.

The meetings ended up taking up the whole morning and finished only when lunch started. The photographer still had to set up her office for the shootings and had to skip lunch in order to have everything ready for the first group. The day before, when she received the backgrounds management wanted her to use, she had almost laughed in front of them at how cheesy it looked. They were a dark navy blue with red and white stars all around. Someone who did not know Barça’s colour team would have probably thought this was an american themed photoshoot. The brunette had decided to lean into the cheesiness of the backgrounds and picked up some props that would go well with the vision she had in mind.

The first ones to arrive were Lucy, Keira, Mapi and Ingrid, which eased the Canadian's nerves a little. With the help of the people she knew best in this team, she was able to pinpoint what worked best and test out some poses she had thought of. Alexia had been right. As serious and focused these girls could be on a football pitch, whenever they were out of training settings, they turned into a bunch of children, which made the photographer laugh a lot, and their happiness and childish energy showed in the pictures.

Most of the girls were easy to work with, not being shy in front of the camera and understanding quickly the directions the brunette was giving them. But some, mostly the younger ones, weren't very familiar with all media related things and had a hard time relaxing. Rosalie prided herself in being able to charm these girls into forgetting they were in front of the camera by distracting them with music and making the shooting as casual as she could. Seeing the girls in smaller groups allowed her to get to know them a little better and when the last group came around, she was confident that these girls had accepted her in the Barcelona family.

The last group consisted of Irene, Fridolina, Marta, Panos and Alexia. Knowing the girls, this would be the calmer group and she wasn’t mad about it. She was definitely feeling the exhaustion of the day toppling over her and adding to the week’s worth of stress and overall tiredness. The brunette was ever grateful for her extra cup of coffee, which sat, cold and half empty on the corner of her desk. Unfortunately, the photographer would not get the chance to thank the captain just yet because the blond was not in the group that had just entered her studio.

“ Hola chica,” Sandra exclaimed, hugging the smaller brunette. “ Alexia will be running late, she is with the physiotherapist for her knee. I’ll be just the four of us for now.” The French-Canadian would be lying if she said she wasn’t all the more stressed at the prospect of having to have a solo photoshoot with the woman that rendered her a nervous mess, but she put the thought aside and got to work.

The girls ended up being the one that worked the quickest, being used to this sort of duties, but they were certainly not the ones who looked the most at ease in front of the camera. Irene in particular looked comically angry in certain shots where she was meant to look like she was celebrating a goal. Overall their shoot ended quickly, without Alexia ever showing up.

“ If you want, I can go see what is taking so long and fetch her for you,” Irene said, lingering in the door of the studio.

“ Oh no, don’t worry. I don’t want to press her, she can come to me when she’s done, I’ll still be here editing the photos till pretty late.”Answered the brunette who was already settling down at her desk.

“Alright as you wish. Thank you by the way, you’re really good at what you do, it was fun, for once.” The tall woman said before leaving. The statement put a smile on the brunette’s face before she put on some headphones and dived in the multitudes of shots taken during the afternoon. Whenever she works on editing, Rosalie usually completely loses track of time, being pulled into her own little bubble and forgetting the world around her. She was so focused that she did not even realize it was well past her usual work hours and supper was rolling around the corner. Hunger started to make itself known but the photographer was dead set on at least finishing first three groups before leaving for the weekend. Her shooting with Alexia had completely slipped her mind, which made the brunette even more confused when a polite cough pulled her from her work.

The Catalonian had been standing in the threshold of the photographer’s office for longer than would admit, but the way her reading glasses were placed low on her nose giving her a little secretary vibe, or the way the small brunette would scrunch up her nose whenever she wasn’t certain about a specific angle or even the smile smile that would stretch across her features whenever she would take in her work were simply too enticing for the blond. The only reason Alexia finally made her presence known was the bag containing the paella from her favorite place. Lucy had texted her that the brunette most likely would have forgotten to eat and the football player decided to get something for the photographer to thank her for her patience.

“Hola Rosalia,”

“ Alexia, hi!” The brunette said, taking her glasses off and getting up to greet the blond. “ How was the physio?”

“ Good, they said everything was stable,” Alexia had just recently been back on the squad after her knee had relapsed, so she had frequent visits to the physio’s office and was very careful during training and games.

“I’m glad to hear that,” As the photographer got closer to the blond, an amazing smell reached her nose and reminded her that her last meal had been breakfast. “ Did you bring food?”

The pure excitement emanating from the smaller woman was enough to break the nervousness that was clawing at the captain who smiled and finally stepped in the room to go put down the bags of food on the small coffee table in front of the couch. She pulled out a plastic container filled to the brim with fresh paella and motionned the woman to come sit next to her. “ I did not know what you liked so I brought you my favourite.”

The smell alone was enough to make Rosalie drool. She sat down and quickly picked up the plastic fork. The blond was looking at her, seemingly waiting for her to take a bite and tell her what she thought. The face and sound that came out of the photographer at the taste made the blond blush furiously which prompted her to turn around to try to hide her reddening cheeks. On the other hand, the other girl seemed completely unaware of what she had just done and simply kept eating the delicious food.

“ Are you not eating anything?” The brunette asked after a moment.

“No, no I will eat at home.” The truth is that Alexia had simply forgotten to order anything for herself, too worried about making the photographer wait any further. The brunette got up and reached in one of her drawers and pulled out a fork that she then offered to the blond.

“Here, we can share,”

“ No I got this for you, as a thank you for waiting so long.”

“You already got me coffee this morning, thank you by the way, I would not have survived my day without it.” She said smiling, “ Besides, I won’t be able to finish this on my own and it is too good to waste.”

The blond hesitated a moment and then reached for the second fork. They both ate in silence, too absorbed by the food to say anything. Once the plate was empty and the trash disposed of the girls drifted towards the studio part of the room and Alexia, who previously seemed relaxed enough, seemed to tense at the sight of the set up in front of her.

Rosalie, after a week of observing the team interaction had quickly realized that Alexia, even if she was a seasoned player that was no stranger to the camera, was still incredibly uncomfortable when she was the target of the lens. Seeing the way the captain went rigid when she reached for her camera, the photographer decided that her traditional distracting methods would not be the best way to go about in this particular case.

“ Would you mind grabbing the speaker for me please?”

“ Si,” While the blond was gone, Rosalie rapidly prepped her camera and left it on the side in order to adjust the lighting so it wouldn’t be as harsh for the eyes and wouldn’t blind the football player.

“ Here, you can go on Spotify and put on anything you like,” She said, handing the captain her phone.

“What do you usually listen to?”

“ Anything really, but I wanna know what you like, surprise me.” This made the blond relax a little as she searched for the songs she had in mind. As the photographer was finishing setting up the equipment, she created a small playlist with her favourite songs at the moment and hit shuffle. The first few notes from “Provenza” started playing and the photographer started to sway a little while trying to select the right lens. “ This is nice, very… Spanish.”

“ Wow, how perceptive of you,” The brunette laughed at the comment and turned towards the blond who was standing awkwardly next to the lights.

“ Can you tell me why you are so tense?”

“ I don’t like pictures.” The answer was short, delivered hastily, making the photographer almost regret asking in the first place, but she had a plan, and she was determined to get some answers out of the captain.

“ And what don’t you like about them?”

“It is not the pictures I guess, but the camera,” she said with a certain disgust, “ It’s always looking, it’s like you are never really alone, someone is always watching.”

“ It must be hard, not being able to go out without people pulling out their phones or cameras to catch a glimpse of you. I am sorry there are people who have so little respect for privacy.” The blond offered the photographer a small apologetic smile and took place in front of the background.

“ How do you want me,... I, I mean where,... Wait, what should I do,” Rosalie brushed off Alexia’s stammering, thinking it was just the nerves and stepped away from her little station.

“ We’re just talking now, you can relax,”

“ Si, thank you,”

“How’s the light, are you blinded at all, can you still see me?”

“ Si, it’s all ok,” the blond shuffled on her spot, “ Have you visited the city a bit since you moved?”

The brunette was slightly surprised by the blond’s curiosity but gladly answered, taking this as a sign that Alexia was slowly getting more comfortable with her.

“ Unfortunately not a lot, no, besides the streets around my apartment and the more touristy places, I haven’t seen much, I haven't even seen the beach yet.” A gasp almost made the woman drop her camera on the floor.

“ This is a crime. How could you not? You have to see the sunset, go take pictures, you'll see it’s beautiful.” The expression on the players face was too cute not to capture and the brunette took advantage of the moment to snap a picture of the awe displayed on the taller woman’s face.

“You’re gonna have to show me the good spots though.”

“Si si, Ingrid knows all of them, I can ask her to bring you..”

“ I didn’t ask Ingrid.” The captain instantly blushed at the comment and smiled big. A clic was heard and Alexia’s featured switch to indignation.

“You are distracting me!”

“ Guilty, I'm afraid, now cross your arms and spread out your stance a little bit for me please.” They stayed silent for a moment, the photographer trying different angles and Alexia holding the position she was currently in, harbouring a serious expression, as if ready to take on a whole team alone. Once the brunette lowered her camera Alexia decided to ask the question that had been on her mind since she had set foot in the studio

“ Why photography?”

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