#girl whos never watched last life: i love last life

[honeyryewhiskey]

when dean falls in love

or, all the little details that run through dean's mind when he's falling in love. and all the fears and self-doubt that come crashing down on him. warnings ! a pinch of angst | mostly feel good | kissing | confessions | dean admiring reader | dean's internal struggles | reader being patient | sam third wheeling j's note ! this is my apology for that sad one i posted last night. also, i had little baby 26-year-old dean in mind for this one. enjoy <3 5k words

Few rules exist in Dean’s life—most are made to be bent, broken, or ignored altogether. But you?

You’re the exception. You’re the rule he refuses to cross.

You are entirely off-limits.

Not that you seem to care. You crashed into the Winchesters' world like a wildfire, all sharp eyes and steady hands, showing up guns blazing in the middle of a nasty hunt. There was no slow introduction, no time for cautious trust. One minute, it was just another night, another hunt—then suddenly, there you were, standing in the wreckage, breathing heavily, covered in blood that wasn’t yours.

Dean should’ve known to let go right then and there—you were too good to be true. But he didn’t. Instead, you stuck to the corners of his mind like sugar between his teeth, sweet and relentless. Your energy, raw and electric, burned through everything around you. You invaded his thoughts, wrapped around his mind like a constant hum.

You were the kind of girl who made a man forget his own damn rules.

At first, Dean tells himself this newfound trio is temporary.

You’re a lone wolf, and the Winchesters don’t do long-term attachments. But somehow, you weave yourself into their lives like you’ve always belonged.

You slip into the passenger seat of the Impala without waiting for an invitation, kicking your feet up on the dash just to piss him off. You steal fries off his plate like it’s second nature, smirking when he glares at you but never stopping. You roll your eyes at his bravado, call him out when he’s being an ass, and yet—when it matters—you’re always there. Ready to fight. Ready to bleed for this life, for them.

For him.

Dean tells himself he doesn’t notice the little things. The way you hum along to his rock tapes like you’ve known them forever, how your hands—so much softer than he deserves—patch him up without hesitation. The way you meet his teasing with just as much fire, never backing down.

None of it means anything.

Because it can’t.

Not when he’s always been too rough, too jagged around the edges to hold onto something as good as you. Somewhere around his twentieth birthday, he made peace with the fact that he was cursed—fated to be nothing more than a soldier, a brother, a blade meant for war.

Being anything else, wanting anything more—wanting you—would only end in tragedy.

But then he catches Sam talking to you in hushed voices over coffee in the morning, like you’re family. As if every diner table and wobbly motel kitchenette was always meant to sit the three of you. He watches you clean his gun without being asked, like it’s second nature now. He hears your voice on the other end of his phone at 3 a.m., always answering when he calls, asking if he’s okay after a rough hunt. 

And just like that, you’re in. You’re a part of them.

A part of him.

And that? That’s the most dangerous thing of all.

Dean doesn’t know when it happened—when the lines started to blur, when the rule he swore by turned into something fragile, something breakable.

Maybe it’s the way you slip so effortlessly into their lives, settling into the spaces he didn’t even realize were empty—mediating brotherly arguments like you were always meant to be their missing piece. Maybe it’s the sound of your laughter, bright and unshaken, slicing through the heaviness of a bad hunt. Or maybe it’s the way you look at him, like he’s something more than the scars, more than the sharp edges—like he’s worth seeing at all.

Or maybe it’s the small moments like this.

The diner is warm, buzzing with the quiet hum of conversation, the clatter of silverware against plates. Sam’s focus is his laptop, half-listening to whatever you’re saying as you flip through the menu, sitting beside Dean, debating tonight’s meal. Dean’s trying to keep up, trying to ground himself in the normalcy of it all.

And then, without a second thought, you reach for his jacket.

It’s been draped over the back of the booth since he sat down, familiar and worn, carrying the weight of long nights and too many miles. And you just take it, slipping your arms through the sleeves, tugging the collar up like it belongs to you.

Dean’s fingers tighten around the menu.

It’s nothing new—he’s handed it over a dozen times before, thrown it around your shoulders without a second thought on cold nights. But this? This is different. You didn’t ask. Didn’t even hesitate. You just did it, like it was instinct, like it was yours.

He clears his throat, trying to force down the feeling clawing its way up his chest. “Comfy?”

You hum, settling into the fabric, your fingers curling into the sleeves. “Mmhmm.” Your voice is light, easy. “You always run so warm. Thought I’d steal a little of that.”

Dean swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry. Prying his eyes off of you, he tries again to look like he’s reading the menu. Scanning the small font, even though he’s already decided on a burger and fries like he always gets. 

Across from him, Sam sighs, clicking at his keyboard. “You guys do realize you act like a couple, right?”

Dean shoots him a glare. “Shut up.”

Your laugh falls out sweet and quiet, the sound pressing against his heart with a persistence to make it move faster. Your boot nudges Dean’s under the table, and he takes it as an excuse to look at you again. “You jealous, Sammy? Want me to steal your jacket next?”

Dean barely hears the response. He watches as you burrow further into his jacket, your nose dipping beneath the collar. Then, with that same mischievous glint in your eye that always spells trouble for him, you lift the collar to make a show of taking a slow, exaggerated sniff.

His brows press down, lashes forming a tight squint around his eyes as he braces himself, “What the hell are you doing?”

Your lips twitch like you’re holding back a laugh. “One thing about this old jacket, though,” you muse, taking another thoughtful inhale. “There’s this metallicy smell… buried under all that cologne you drown this poor leather in.”

Dean scoffs, shifting in his seat and turning his head to save himself from letting you see the pink creeping up his cheeks. “I do not drown it in cologne.”

Sam doesn’t even look up from his laptop, but his chuckle doesn’t help ease Dean’s embarrassment. “You kinda do.”

Dean’s head shoots up, tilting slightly as he glares at his brother. You’re already grinning, undeterred, your fingers lazily tracing the worn seam of the sleeve. “It’s faint, but it’s there. Like… gunpowder. And whiskey, I would assume. And maybe a little bit of blood?” Your teasing gaze flicks up to meet his, “What have you been getting into, Winchester?”

Dean should play it cool. Shrug it off. But he can feel his ears burning red and hot from that little teasing smile on your lips and his brain is a few steps behind, caught somewhere between you’re too damn close and when did this get so hard to ignore?

He leans back, arms crossing over his chest. His mind makes quick work to steady buzzing nerves, “Dunno what to tell ya, sweetheart,” he sighs, jaw popping as he finds his barings, “That jacket’s seen more action than you have.”

You feign offense, pressing a hand to your chest. “Wow. First, you over-season your leather, and now you’re just slinging insults?” You shake your head, dramatic as ever. “I thought we had something special, D.”

Dean rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitches. “Yeah, yeah. You done sniffin’ my jacket, or should I be concerned?”

You huff, settling back against the booth so that your arms brush against each other when you shrug. “I dunno. Might need another whiff.”

Dean points a warning finger at you, his smile breaks his attempt at stoicism, and all it does is make you grin wider.

Sam lets out another long-suffering sigh, shutting his laptop with a little more force than necessary. “I’m concerned. And I’m officially done with this conversation.”

You smirk, smug as ever, but Dean? Dean’s just trying to pretend he’s not completely, stupidly gone for you.

The rest of dinner passes in easy conversation—at least, for you. Dean is quieter than usual, letting you and Sam fill the space between bites of food and stolen fries. He tries to focus on anything else—the chipped laminate of the table, the hum of the old diner lights, the way his fingers tap absently against the side of his glass.

Mostly, he tries not to look at you.

Not when you lean forward, chin propped in your palm, laughing at something Sam says. Not when you nudge his boot under the table, stealing the last bite of his pie with a satisfied little smirk. Not when you adjust the lapels of his leather jacket like it’s yours now, like it belongs to you the way he does.

By the time the check hits the table, he’s still got too many thoughts in his head, and none of them are ones he should be having.

Outside, the night air is crisp, the motel’s flickering vacancy sign glowing just across the lot. Sam mutters something about research and trudges off toward their shared room, leaving the two of you lingering by the diner’s door.

Dean shoves his hands into his pockets, suddenly hyper-aware of how quiet it is. You shift on your feet, then tilt your head toward the motel.

“What’s it gonna be tonight, D?” Your voice is soft, slipping into the quiet like it belongs there. “You sticking around for a bit, or heading to bed?”

Dean exhales, shaking his head. “Gotta make sure you get in safe.”

Your laugh rings through the empty parking lot, light and easy, curling around him like warmth against the cool night air. And despite only wearing a flannel, despite the late hour and the breeze whispering through the lot, he feels nothing but warm.

“Ah, yes,” you tease between giggles, nudging his arm. “My knight in shining armor, always keeping me safe.”

The short walk across the lot is quiet but never empty—the kind of silence that lingers in the spaces between you, comfortable and charged all at once.

At your door, you unlock it with a flick of your wrist, pushing it open before leaning lazily against the frame. The dim motel light catches the amusement in your eyes as you glance back at him.

“See?” You gesture to the empty room with a grin. “All’s quiet on the western front.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waves you off, stepping inside without a second thought, the door clicking shut behind him.

You move past him with easy familiarity, shuffling through your things while Dean leans against the dresser, arms crossed over his chest. He watches as you slip into your usual routine—kicking off your shoes, pulling your hair back, stifling a yawn with the sleeve of your sweater. His jacket, draped over the chair beside your bed, stays untouched. He doesn’t move to take it. If he’s honest, he kind of hopes you’ll sleep in it. Let it take on your scent instead of his.

When you return from the bathroom, fresh-faced and sighing contentedly, you crawl onto the bed and sit cross-legged, flipping absentmindedly through an old paperback—the one you grabbed from the library when you were supposed to be researching.

“You gonna tell me what’s got you so deep in thought tonight?” you break into the silence without looking up, voice soft but knowing.

Dean huffs, tipping his head back. He’s trying to find something other than you to look at, he’s gotta stop watching you so often. “I’m always deep in thought.”

You snort, “yeah, okay. Sure.”

Your eyes flicker over him, he’s always following you into your room like a stray pup, like he doesn’t know where else to go. He lingers in your space, but is careful to maintain a set distance. At first you thought he was trying to claim you as another notch on his bedpost, but all that ever happened on these nights were quiet talks until your eyes grew too heavy to keep open. And by morning, you’d be alone, tucked beneath the blankets like someone made sure they were pulled around you just right.

You watch him for a beat, noting the familiar tension winding through his shoulders. “Seriously, though. You were kinda out of it at dinner.”

Dean hesitates, glancing away like he can pretend he didn’t hear you. His eyes settle on the peeling motel wallpaper, tracing the cracks like they hold some kind of answer. He hadn’t planned on sticking around this late—not when his head is already full of you. Not when it’s dangerous for the sanctity his carefully drawn lines to be near you like this, feeling the way he does.

But neither of you move. You, cross-legged on the bed, book in hand. Him, still leaning against the dresser, pretending he has somewhere else to be.

He should make an excuse, crack a joke, steer this conversation somewhere safer. But your voice, soft and steady, tugs at something in him. And instead of fighting it, he lets himself lean in.

“You ever think about what happens when we stop?”

Your fingers still against the worn pages of your book. “Stop what?”

“This.” He gestures vaguely, like that explains everything. “The hunting, the moving around. All of it.”

Your brows furrow slightly as you consider his words, the weight of them pressing down in a way you don’t want to acknowledge. This life—it’s far from glamorous, but it’s all you’ve got. Stepping away from it is a thought you buried long ago, a fantasy that never had a chance. You shrug, pushing the thought aside. “I don’t know,” you say quietly. “Never really let myself think about it too much.”

Dean exhales a heavy breath, eyes dropping to the floor like the weight of your words is sinking in. “Yeah.”

A beat of quiet settles between you. It’s not uncomfortable, but there’s a weight to it that presses against Dean’s chest, making the space feel tighter than it is. You can feel his tension, like he’s holding something back, but he doesn’t look up.

Then, you shift, breaking the silence with an easy gesture—a pat to the empty space beside you on the bed. “Don’t just trail off on me, D. Sit down. Tell me more.”

Dean hesitates for a split second. This is a bad idea. It’s an invisible line he’s been toeing for too damn long, one he’s tried not to cross—never sit on the bed, never get too close when we’re alone. But then again, it’s you. You’re looking at him like you care, soft and patient, as if whatever’s inside his head actually matters.

And just like that, he gives in. One little exception, just for tonight.

With a quiet sigh, he pushes off the dresser, settling beside you on the bed. He stretches his legs out, but the small mattress makes it impossible to keep any real distance. His legs brush against yours, and his arm brushes yours too. He hopes to hell you don’t see the flush creeping up his neck.

If you notice, you don’t mention it. There’s no teasing, no playful smile—just the quiet comfort of your presence beside him. You don’t push, don’t pry. You just sit there, calm and steady, waiting for him to speak.

“I dunno,” he mutters, “just been thinkin’ lately. About what it all looks like when it’s over. If it ever is.”

You tilt your head, studying him. “And?”

Dean swallows, debating how much to say. How much to admit.

“And… I don’t see much of anything.” He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “Spent my whole life doing this, I don’t see an ending where I’m not dying at the hands of this. Y’know, going down in the fight.”

You’re quiet for a moment, then—so softly he almost doesn’t notice—you shift closer, your arm snaking its way around his. You’re snuggled right up next to him, watching with careful eyes.

“There will always be monsters to hunt,” you murmur, your voice soft yet steady in the dim room. “But you don’t have to be a warrior forever, D. There will always be hunters, too. Doesn’t mean you have to be one.”

Dean chuckles, but it’s a hollow sound, more an exhale than a laugh. His gaze drifts toward the bedspread, unable to meet yours. "Yeah, well... I don't know if I could just walk away." His words come out quieter, like he’s unsure if he’s talking to you or to himself.

You turn slightly toward him, noticing the tension still coiled in his shoulders. The quiet settles deeper now, heavier with each passing moment, but he doesn’t seem to notice the distance between your words.

“What’s got you thinking about all of this?” you keep your voice light, though there’s a weight to it.

Dean rubs the back of his neck, his thoughts at war with the words he wants to say. "I can’t have the things I want, not really," he finally admits, the confession slipping out before he can second-guess it. His gaze drifts to the side, and his fingertips come up almost absentmindedly, dragging across your temple, pushing stray hairs back into their place.

“This life," he continues, barely above a whisper, "it consumes all the good things in my life."

“Not true,” your voice is firm but gentle, like you’re trying to remind him of something he can’t see.

He doesn’t answer immediately, just quirks a skeptical brow at you.

“You have your brother,” you continue, “and you’ve got me. Nothing in this universe can take us from you.”

Dean’s breath catches, and for the briefest moment, he wonders if you understand just how much weight those words hold. He swallows, trying to hold it together, but he can’t ignore the ache that creeps up his spine. He gives a small, almost rueful chuckle, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "What makes you so sure?"

You meet his gaze with a steady confidence. "Because I know you wouldn’t let it."

His hand lingers by your face, his thumb brushing softly against the warmth of your cheek. There’s an electricity in the touch, something that feels too close and yet too natural. He can feel the way his pulse quickens, how much his body wants to close that last inch of space between you. But he doesn’t.

You don’t push him. You just watch him, like you’re waiting for him to decide whether to take the step—or to retreat.

Dean’s breath catches in his throat, and his eyes drop to your lips for a moment before meeting yours again, like he’s trying to reconcile the gravity of what he’s feeling. His voice drops to almost a whisper, his words thick with something raw. “You have no idea how right you are, little miss.”

Your hand comes up, curling over his with a quiet, deliberate touch. The softness of your skin against his makes it almost impossible for him to remember the times he’s watched you move through the world—handling a gun with precision or a blade like it’s second nature. Most of you makes him forget, really, about everything that doesn’t involve you in this moment.

Your warmth, your softness, it makes him lose himself in daydreams of a version of you—one that doesn’t belong to this life. A version where you’d lean into that gentleness, the part of you that exists outside the hunts and the danger, in a life far away from the chaos that haunts him.

You shift, sitting up, still keeping your gaze on him, and it makes something in his chest tighten. The determined strain in your features catches his attention immediately. It’s the same look you get when you're deep into a lore book, your brow furrowed with that little scowl—like something has piqued your interest, and you won’t rest until you’ve unraveled it completely.

“Dean, there’s more to this than you’re letting on.”

He shakes his head, trying to brush it off with a quick, dismissive shrug, his lips pouting up into his best attempt at nonchalance. “Nope. That’s pretty much it.”

You let out an exasperated huff, and Dean can tell you’re seeing straight through him. It’s not enough to deflect you. What he doesn’t expect, though, is the rough shove to his shoulder. It makes him blink in surprise, but before he can recover, your fingers press right back into the tension of his muscles he’s been trying to ignore all night.

“You’re as stiff as a board,” you point out, your fingers digging in a little harder. “Something’s bothering you.”

His breath comes out shakier now, and for a moment, his whole body feels like it’s been wound too tight. You can feel it, he knows you can. There’s no denying it now, but the words feel too heavy in his throat. He wants to argue, to brush it off again, but something in the way you’re watching him shifts. It’s not just curiosity anymore—it’s concern. And maybe, just maybe, a part of him wants to let you in.

But damn if it doesn’t feel like a risk.

Dean shifts uncomfortably, trying to pull away, but the pressure of your fingers is a subtle anchor, keeping him there. His gaze flits to the floor, anywhere but your eyes, because once he looks at you, he knows he won’t be able to hide.

"I told you, it's nothing," he mutters, his voice rougher than usual, the words escaping before he can stop them. He tries to push himself up, but the weight of your stare presses him back down.

You don’t buy it. You never do.

"No, Dean," you start softly, the concern clear in your voice, "I know you better than that. Something’s been eating at you for a while, and you’re not gonna keep dodging it."

His chest tightens, his heart racing in his ribcage. Every part of him wants to throw up some wall, some excuse. Something to keep you from seeing the rawness of what’s inside. The vulnerability he’s been running from his entire life.

But still, you watch him, waiting, your eyes steady and unwavering.

"Come on, just let it out," you press, your hand moving to his shoulder again, your touch gentle now but insistent. “You don’t have to carry it all by yourself, you know?”

He swallows hard, his jaw tightening, hands suddenly restless at his sides. The fight inside him is crumbling, piece by piece, until he's barely holding on to whatever's left. His voice comes out strained, almost desperate.

“Please, just drop it,” he grinds out, his eyes briefly meeting yours before flicking away again, helplessly. “I’m fine. You don’t... you don’t need to know all of it.”

You sit forward, leaning in just a little, your hand still gently gripping his arm as you search his face. The determination in your gaze doesn’t waver, but there’s something softer there now, almost like a plea. “Dean—”

He jerks back slightly, suddenly standing up with a bit too much force, the air between you thickening with a tension that’s making it harder for him to breathe. He takes a few steps away, running a hand through his hair, his back turned to you as he tries to calm the storm rising inside.

"I can’t do this," he mutters, his voice low, rougher now, like it’s been dragged over gravel. His shoulders still tense with the weight of the world pressing down on him.

You’re silent for a beat, and he knows it’s because you’re giving him space. But he also knows you won’t stop until you get him to say what he’s been holding back.

He exhales sharply, his hands trembling as he clenches them into fists, his back still turned, fighting a battle he knows he’s losing. "God, I don’t want to talk about this." His voice cracks slightly as he says it, and he hates how much it betrays him.

His eyes flick to you then, and there's a crack in the armor—a vulnerability that’s almost painful to see. He looks at you, but he’s not sure he can bear the weight of your gaze anymore. Not when all he wants to do is keep you safe from the wreckage inside him.

His body is coiled tight, but his chest feels like it’s going to implode. He wants to walk away. He wants to escape from the weight of this conversation, from the way you're looking at him like you’re waiting for him to finally crack open and spill it all out.

But when he finally turns back to face you fully, all he sees is that unflinching patience, that quiet insistence that you’re not going to let him go until he finally says what he’s been hiding for so long. It makes him want to burn every rule he’s built for himself.

"You don't get it," he spats roughly, eyes flicking to the floor. "I can’t just... say it. It’s part of me, it’s who I am, this thing that I can’t get away from."

You rise to your feet, crossing the room in one smooth motion. There’s no anger in your steps—just a calm resolve that cuts through the tension between you like a knife.

"I'm not an idiot, Dean," you peek up at him, unfamilarly timid as you cross this uncharted territory. "I see the way you look at me. Hell, at first I thought I was imagining things but I can see it’s eating you alive. And I—” your words cut off in your own shock at the confession, the sincerity in your expression making his knees weak, “I can’t bear to see you like this.” 

Your hands reach up tentatively, like you’re scared he’ll tear himself away again. But he stills, letting your warm hands press into either side of his jaw, “you’re my rock, alright?” your words trail into a soft laugh, easing the tension of your own truth. “I don’t wanna live in a world where I’m not by your side, because you make life worth the fight to stay alive. But you can’t just keep me in the dark, I have to know what you’re feeling.” 

His breath catches in his throat, the weight of your words hitting him harder than he expected. The realization that you know, that you’ve seen through all his defenses, makes everything inside him ache.

"I don’t know what you want from me," it comes out sounding like a plea, still looking for an excuse to retreat into himself.

"I want you to stop hiding from me." Your words are simple, but they strike right at the heart of the matter. "I want you to stop pretending like you can’t have the one thing you want most."

His throat tightens, and he shakes his head, trying to dismiss it. "I don’t get it," he mumbles, though his eyes are locked on yours, searching for the reprieve he still doesn’t believe he’ll find. "I don’t... I’m not fit for this."

"I’m not either, D. I’m just asking you to let it happen." You’re so close now, he can feel the warmth of your body, the soft pressure of your fingers against his jaw. Your gaze doesn’t break, it never wavers.

And that’s when it hits him. He’s been afraid of this—afraid of the way you make him feel like he can finally breathe, like all of his pain and avoidance can cease in your presence. he’s been holding himself together with tattered shreds for so long, and you’re the only thing that’s strong enough to pull him out of the mess he’s made of himself. 

And letting that security live in someone else terrifies him more than any monster he’s faced. 

“I’m not perfect,” he admits quietly, his words like gravel in his throat. “I’m broken, and I’m scared as hell, but god, if you only knew how much I want—”

You stop him with a soft kiss, the sweetest touch of your lips to his. It's gentle, almost hesitant, but it shatters something inside him, enough to freeze him in place. The weight of everything unspoken presses in, and for the first time, it feels like the walls he's built around himself might finally crumble in your hands.

The chains of his tightly kept composure snap at the delicate pressure of your lips, and without thinking, his arms wrap around you, pulling you closer. His hands find purchase at your waist, holding you as if you were the only thing that kept him grounded. The kiss deepens, desperate, as if he's trying to kiss away the years of holding back, the silent fear of letting you see the real him, the uncertainty of if you’d stay with him in the wreckage.

When you finally pull back, your lips linger just above his, breaths mingling. Your voice is a soft whisper, but it cuts through the tension like a thread being pulled taut. “Then say it, Dean. Tell me what you want.”

His heart beats in his chest, loud and frantic, as his walls come crashing down, piece by piece. He can’t think straight with you in his arms, all of his steely armor melts at your touch. And for the first time in what feels like forever, he lets go of some of those fears.

His eyes are nearly consumed by his pupils as he takes in the sight of you slightly out of breath, lips wet and a little more pink. From his doing, from his touch—it makes every broken rule worth the trouble.

“I've fallen for you, Sweetheart,” he breathes, his voice is raw, shaky, but it's honest, every word carrying the weight of what he’s been holding back. “I want to keep falling for you, love and all that crap. And I’m terrified of it, but I can’t keep hiding this from you.”

Your thumb brushes over his cheek, the gesture soft, but nevertheless, grounding. A quiet smile tugs at the corner of your lips, and your eyes hold nothing but certainty. “You’ll never have to hide any part of yourself, Dean. I’ve been here all along, with nothing but love. Just been waiting for you to see that.”

tags <3 @titsout4jackles @floralscented @deansbeer @snowluvvie @dulcescorderitas @bluemerakis

[deanssun]

✧ dean winchester x party girl!reader | minors do not interact

when dean spots his ex, it was likely to

end in a fight, but instead they let out their

pent up emotions in a different way..

! mentions of drugs. alcohol. sex. fucking in the bathroom. dean cums inside !wrap it up y'all!. exes to lovers (once again).

dean winchester and his ex, you, were toxic–highschool sweethearts which in all honesty hated each other. still you both kept crawling back to one another. it wasn't until you found out about deans hunting, and he found out about the parties you threw. you were just a girl–who was he to judge? you broke it off for good and you never saw each other again.

until years later while at the club, here he was at the bar, drowning himself in his sorrows.

his eyes trailing over various womens figures, eventually landing on yours. a tight dress that hugged your curves just right, perfect hair that he'd love to pull, and glossy lips.

all the feelings he had pushed down came back up–anger, annoyance, but worst of all jealously. he was jealous that you were still living your life.

and that other men had got to touch what was his, once his.

deans mind trailed off, unbeknownst to his legs carrying him off towards you. his hand coming to rest on your waist, the thin fabric doing nothing but igniting a fire beneath his touch. you whipped your head around so fast it almost hit against his.

“dean!? what're you doing here, and especially around me?” you questioned him quickly, voice slurred and a lingering smell of weed clung to your form.

you couldn't help the warmth that begun in your core as you got a better look at his face. the bright lights of the dance floor highlighting his features.

he had aged well, and it wasn't helping with the arousal that pooled in your panties at his presence. he still had such power over you, that's why when you both were young, you couldn't help but crawl back to him.

the smell of leather and whiskey overpowered anything else around you, all you could think about was just him. but you didn’t let that stop you from arguing.

"you think that you can just walst back into my life, pull me close and expect me to start sucking you off!” exclaiming loudly, facing him with a headstrong stare, a pout etched onto your lips and your hands snug on your hips.

“oh no, kitty, i don't–” dean smirked, one that made your knees weak.

your cheeks warmed as he called you your nickname from highschool. watching and letting him pull you even closer, dress riding up which allowed you to feel his denim-clad bulge. you bit your bottom lip at the sensation.

your friend, who'd been the one to get you to break up with dean in the first place walked by you with a wink. swiftly handing you a joint and patting your ass. you looked towards her in confusion, not that it lasted long because dean was dragging you by your waist into the bathroom.

it was small and cramped yet you both found a way to make it work. his thick cock was pumping in and out of you. your legs were locked around his waist, back pressed against the door which rattled with each thrust.

“i bet you wanted me to see you, fuckin’ slut. i know you missed this–missed my dick filling you, ruining you for any other man.” dean rasped, groans leaving his saliva covered lips.

your pussy clenched at his degrading words, mewls and whimpers spewing out from you. it was dirty, so dirty and you both didn't care to mind.

not when his cock was hitting that sweet spot each time, the tip lightly grazing your cervix. your hips bucked up towards his calloused fingers that ghosted over your clit, touching once-in-awhile.

“dean, dean, dean!” you moaned his name like a prayer, but he was no god. he was as man, your ex, fucking you like a whore in the bathroom of some dingy club. and you liked it, you'd really missed him.

your hands tousled with his hair, grasping onto it. sweat causing the strands near his face to stick to his forehead.

your actions caused dean to let out noises of his own, his head falling in between your breasts. harsh breaths fall from his plump lips. he growled, nipping and sucking at the sweat covered skin, leaving marks in his wake.

the feeling of his dick slipping in and out of your tight, wet walls was all that you could think about, bringing you closer to the edge.

when he knew you were close, he finally began to rub your clit. giving rough attention to the pearl. his fingers applied just the right amount of pressure.

you were dripping, soaking his cock. the air was thick and the smell of sex clung to the both of you. anyone walking by could immediately tell what was happening in the room. the sound of his balls slapping harshly against your ass and the slick sound of his dick inside you was loud and rung in your ears. your bodies stuck together, bound by the feeling of pleasure.

your body shuddered and your hands grasped onto his forearms. the muscle flexed beneath your touch. you screamed his name as you came, your body limping against the door.

deans hands gripped onto your ass to hold you up. his dick still unrelenting, fucking you hard and fast. even as you came down from your high, he never slowed. moans continued to fall from your lips, though more breathy and quiet.

dean came inside you with a low groan, his warm sticky seed filling you up. the white substance stuck to your inner walls, proof of his claim over you.

“you're so good f'me, baby. taking my dick so well–” he whispered into your ear, his fingers tracing patterns on your bottom.

he caged you in his hold, his mouth working magic on your neck. leaving little hickeys so everyone would you were his, once again.

dean pulled out, little whines fell from you at the loss of contact and warmth. he quickly pulled your panties back over your cunt. trapping his seed inside you.

you attemted to fix your hair and makeup, mascara dripped down your cheeks and your lipstick was smudged. you felt a smack on your ass, and a kiss on the cheek as dean opened the bathroom door.

“have fun cleaning up, sweetheart, and when you wanna leave–come find your daddy, yea?” he teased with a wink, which in response to you rolled your eyes.

watching his form leave and head back to the bar. his hair was a mess and he was glistening with sweat.

but he was still so handsome to you. your heart fluttered with the love you once felt for him as it trickled into your being.

and now you knew that you can't stay away from dean winchester forever.

sunny yaps! HII MY ANGELSS!! I decides to just write something for party girl!reader. I KNOW IT DOESNT REALLY DIVE INTO HER CHARACTER BUT I WANT DEAN WINCHESTER SOOOO BAD RN!! I do NOT write smut good so comments would be appreciated if you find this enjoyable!! I didn't mean to write a lot just a little drabble but ykkk....HEHE ANYWAYSS!! I LOVE YOU ALLLLL, KISSES TO UUUU !!

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, in every life ࿐‧₊ worst logan - imperfect for you pt.2

chapter summary: You and Laura find yourselves in the void. A few months later, Wade—who claims to be from your universe, and a different Logan appear with a way out.

word count: 13.7k+ (31k+ total)

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: alright! this is the second part... to the second part. all the warnings/tags are the same! and take this as your warning-this is split in two parts! it's too long for tumblr to fit in one post!

(also, i know that it's 10 pm est, but i felt like i had to put this out now after watching lady gaga and bruno mars' performance at the grammy's)

warnings/tags: canon to 'deadpool and wolverine', black widow!reader, worst!logan, laura calls reader mom, violence, heavy angst, detached!reader, loverboy!logan, slow burn, fluff, wade wilson interruption, happy ending, not proofread

series masterlist - part 2

You had been to Italy a few times, never of course to see the sights. But Logan insisted, not caring that the mission was over and the two of you were supposed to be going back to the mansion.

“C’mon,” he murmured against your lips, pressing another chaste kiss against them. “I’ll show you around.”

"Do you even know where we’re goin’?" you asked, raising a skeptical brow as Logan laced his fingers through yours, tugging you along the cobblestone streets of Rome.

"’Course I do," he muttered, but the way his eyes flicked between the street signs said otherwise.

You smirked, leaning into his side. "Uh-huh. So, what’s the plan? Wander around aimlessly ‘til we find somethin’ interesting?"

"Pretty much," he admitted, bringing your joined hands up to press a kiss against your knuckles. "Not like we’re in a rush."

You huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head. "Charles is gonna kill us when we get back."

Logan scoffed. "What’s he gonna do? Give me a disapproving look? Put me in time-out?" He squeezed your hand. "C’mon, darlin’. When’s the last time we had a real vacation?"

You exhaled, looking around. The warm glow of streetlights reflected off the damp stone, the air thick with the scent of fresh bread and espresso. It was peaceful. Normal.

You nudged him with your shoulder. "You’re lucky I like you."

He smirked. "Damn right I am." Logan leaned in a little closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Plus, it helps I got a girl who can speak Italian."

You rolled your eyes but didn’t pull away. "Yeah? And how exactly does that help you?"

Logan squeezed your hand, guiding you through the winding streets. "Means I don’t gotta fumble my way through orderin’ dinner."

You snorted. "So that’s why you’re keeping me around? For food?"

"Pretty much," he said, smirking. "That and the company."

You hummed, pretending to consider. "Could’ve just hired a translator."

Logan stopped walking, turning to face you with that look—the one that made your stomach flip, the one that told you he was serious even when his words weren’t. "Don’t need a translator. Need you."

Your breath hitched, but you covered it with a scoff, nudging him playfully. But before you could get out a word he spoke again.

“Let’s get married.”

You blinked at Logan, unsure if you’d heard him right. “What?”

Logan didn’t flinch. He just stood there, watching you with that same calm intensity he always had. “Let’s get married.”

A laugh escaped you, unbidden, half incredulous, half breathless. “You drunk already?”

Logan smirked. “Not yet.”

You shook your head, crossing your arms. “Logan—”

“I’m serious.” He stepped closer, taking your hands in his. “I know you know about the damn ring.”

Your breath hitched.

You did know.

You’d found it once, hidden away in his things. A simple gold band, unassuming, well-worn. You hadn’t asked about it at the time, but part of you had known—Logan didn’t keep things unless they mattered.

Your fingers curled around his. “You’ve had that ring for years.”

“Longer,” he admitted. “First time I met you, I bought it.”

Something in your chest tightened. “Logan.”

“I’ve lost a lot,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, rougher. “Too much. But you keep coming back to me. Life after life. And I keep finding you.”

Your throat felt tight. “This isn’t like the other times.”

Logan shook his head. “No. It ain’t. This time, I’m not gonna waste any more of it.”

You searched his face, looking for hesitation, doubt—anything that might tell you he was caught up in the moment. But there was nothing. Just certainty.

A quiet, stunned laugh escaped you. “You want to get married. Right now?”

“Why the hell not?” He grinned. “We got a whole city to ourselves. We’ve both seen enough shit to know waiting doesn’t always do us any favors.”

You exhaled, tilting your head. “You don’t even have the ring on you.”

Logan pulled his hand from yours, reached into his pocket, and held it up between his fingers. “You sure about that?”

Your heart nearly stopped.

“You carry it around?”

“Every damn day.”

You stared at him, at the way he was just standing there, so unshaken, so sure, like he’d been waiting for this moment forever.

Maybe he had.

And maybe, just maybe, so had you.

“Alright,” you breathed. “Let’s do it.”

Logan’s lips twitched into a grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said, shaking your head, laughing under your breath. “Let’s get married.”

---

The church was small—hidden in the quieter part of the city, far from the crowds of tourists. The old priest inside raised a brow when you and Logan walked in, but he didn’t ask many questions.

Logan held your hand the entire time, his thumb tracing idle circles against your skin. When the priest asked if you were ready, Logan squeezed your fingers, just once.

Neither of you had vows prepared—there hadn’t been time for that. But you didn’t need them.

“You already know what you mean to me,” Logan murmured, slipping the ring onto your finger. “Don’t need words to prove it.”

You swallowed past the lump in your throat, looking down at the band that fit so perfectly. Then you looked back at him, that same familiar, stubborn, impossible man you had known for years.

You curled your fingers around his hand. “Good. Because I don’t have anything poetic either.”

Logan chuckled. “Don’t need poetic.”

You smiled, lifting your joined hands to your lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “Then let’s just get to the part where they say we’re stuck with each other.”

Logan smirked. “Thought you’d never ask.”

The priest gave a small, amused shake of his head before speaking the final words. And just like that, it was done.

Married.

You turned to Logan, your new husband, and before he could say anything, you grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him into a kiss.

He made a noise of surprise, but it didn’t take him long to catch up, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist. His lips were warm, familiar, and when he broke away just enough to murmur against your mouth, his voice was thick with something you couldn’t name.

“’Bout damn time.”

You laughed, forehead resting against his. “Yeah,” you whispered. “It is.”

Logan cupped your jaw, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “You’re mine now.”

You smirked. “Always was.”

He kissed you again, and this time, neither of you were in any rush to pull away.

---

You woke up, not with a start, just a slow realization that it was a dream—a memory.

The ceiling fan above you spun in lazy circles, the dim morning light filtering through the blinds. The scent of saltwater lingered in the air, mixing with the faintest trace of lemon cleaner from Laura’s half-hearted attempt at tidying up the place. For a second, you could still feel Logan’s hand in yours, the weight of the ring on your finger, the warmth of his breath against your lips.

But it wasn’t real. Not anymore.

You exhaled, rubbing the sleep from your eyes before pushing yourself up. The bed was too big, too empty. You swung your legs over the side, the cool floor grounding you in the present.

A quiet knock sounded at the door. “Mom?”

You sighed, rolling your shoulders before standing. “Yeah?”

Laura cracked the door open, already dressed, her sunglasses perched on top of her head. “You okay?”

You huffed, running a hand through your hair. “Yeah. Why?”

Laura leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “You were making that face again.”

You raised a brow. “What face?”

“The sad, I’m thinking about him again face.”

You snorted. “That’s not a thing.”

Laura shrugged. “Sure.”

Shaking your head, you moved past her and into the kitchen. “You eat?”

She grabbed an apple from the counter, biting into it as she hopped onto a stool. “Yeah. You?”

“Not yet.” You poured yourself a cup of coffee, the bitter scent filling the air.

Laura studied you for a second before speaking. “You had another dream, didn’t you?”

You took a sip of coffee before answering. “Maybe.”

Laura didn’t push, just nodded. “Was it a good one?”

Your fingers curled around the mug. “Yeah.”

She chewed her apple slowly, then said, “You think he ever dreamed about you?”

You swallowed, setting the mug down. “I know he did.”

Laura was quiet for a moment before hopping off the stool. “You wanna do something today? Beach, maybe?”

You glanced out the window at the waves rolling against the shore. The idea of a normal day, of pretending for just a little while longer, didn’t sound too bad. “Yeah. Beach sounds good.”

Laura nodded. “Cool. I’ll grab the towels.”

As she walked away, you let out a slow breath, staring at the coffee in your hands. The dream still clung to you, the weight of it settling deep in your chest.

You shook it off.

For now, there was the beach.

For now, there was Laura.

And for now, that was enough.

---

Logan exhaled, the cigarette between his fingers burning low. The Florida heat clung to him, sweat beading at the back of his neck as he leaned against the hood of his truck.

She was in there.

He knew her routine now—when she worked, when she shopped, when she left the house. He told himself he wasn’t stalking, that he was just waiting. But waiting for what, exactly? For her to acknowledge him? For her to let him in?

Wade had called him an idiot for sticking around. Said he was wasting his time. Maybe he was.

But maybe he wasn’t.

He took a slow drag, watching as a familiar car pulled out of the driveway. She was driving. Laura was in the passenger seat, sunglasses on, arms crossed, probably bitching about something.

Logan smirked.

He let the cigarette drop, crushing it under his boot as he pushed off the truck.

They weren’t running.

And as long as they weren’t running, he wasn’t leaving.

---

You stared at him, unabashedly. Something you only did when you were going to scold him for something.

“What?” Logan asked, turning to face you.

You crawled down the bed before sitting at the edge of it, chin in your hand, glasses slipping down your nose. “Why do you have to go to the bar? You could…”

Logan, who had just finished pulling his boots on, paused mid-motion. His brow lifted as he looked at you over his shoulder. “I could… what?”

You shrugged, pushing your glasses up absentmindedly. “I don’t know. Stay.”

Logan snorted, shaking his head as he grabbed his jacket. “What, and listen to Scott ramble about team-building exercises? No thanks.”

You huffed, tilting your head. “You could grade papers.”

He let out a short laugh, shrugging on his jacket. “Yeah, ‘cause that sounds like a real fun time.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning back on your hands. “You wouldn’t have to grade them. You could just… be here.”

Logan’s movements slowed slightly as he adjusted the cuffs of his jacket. He didn’t say anything right away, just stood there, like he was debating whether or not to argue. Then, with a sigh, he turned, arms crossed. “What’s this really about, Y/N?”

You hesitated, tapping your fingers against the blanket. “Nothing. Just thought maybe, for once, you wouldn’t leave as soon as classes were done.”

Logan studied you, his expression softening. “Did something happen?”

You shook your head quickly. “No, I just…” You trailed off, realizing how ridiculous you sounded. You weren’t clingy—at least, you didn’t think you were. But Logan was always leaving. Always heading off somewhere, whether it was a bar, a mission, or just to be alone. And even though you knew that was just the way he was, it didn’t mean you liked it.

Logan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Darlin’…”

“Never mind,” you said quickly, pushing yourself off the bed. “Forget I said anything.”

Logan caught your wrist before you could move past him, his grip firm but gentle. “Hey.” His voice was quieter now. “I didn’t mean—”

You shook your head, pulling your wrist free. “It’s fine, Logan. Go.”

His jaw clenched slightly, like he wanted to argue, but instead, he just stood there, watching as you walked past him.

You didn’t slam the door behind you, but you wanted to.

---

Logan woke up with a sharp inhale, the remnants of the dream lingering in his chest like a dull ache.

He stared at the ceiling, his breathing evening out as he tried to push the memory away. But it clung to him, heavy and persistent.

You weren’t her. And he wasn’t your Logan.

But that didn’t make it any easier.

With a grunt, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, rubbing a hand over his face before reaching for the half-empty bottle of whiskey on the nightstand.

He paused, staring at it for a long moment before setting it back down.

Outside, the Florida heat was already creeping in, the morning sun casting long shadows across the floor. He didn’t know what the hell he was still doing here.

But he wasn’t leaving.

Not yet.

---

The ocean breeze rolled in slow and steady, carrying the scent of salt and sunscreen as you leaned back against your towel. The Florida sun wasn’t unbearable, but it was warm enough to make you drowsy. Laura sat beside you, picking lazily at the label of her water bottle, her sunglasses shielding her eyes.

It had been a good day. The kind of day you never thought you’d have—normal, easy.

Until he showed up.

Laura was the first to notice. She didn’t say anything at first, just hummed softly before muttering, “He’s here.”

You frowned, not even opening your eyes. “Who?”

“Who do you think?”

Your stomach twisted, but you kept your expression neutral as you cracked one eye open. Sure enough, Logan stood a few yards away, leaning against a wooden post near the boardwalk. He wasn’t looking directly at you—just gazing out at the water, arms crossed, the picture of casual indifference.

It was bullshit.

You sighed, rubbing your fingers against your temple. “He’s not gonna leave, is he?”

Laura took a slow sip of her water. “Nope.”

You sat up, adjusting your sunglasses as you shot him a glare. He still wasn’t looking at you, but you knew he knew you saw him.

Laura smirked. “You gonna say something, or just keep making angry faces at him?”

“I’m not making angry faces,” you muttered.

“You are.”

You ignored her, pushing yourself up. You dusted the sand off your legs before heading toward him, your steps slow and deliberate. Logan didn’t move until you were right in front of him. Only then did he glance down, his expression unreadable.

“You lost?” you asked, crossing your arms.

Logan smirked. “Nah. Just enjoyin’ the view.”

You scoffed. “Right.”

Silence stretched between you, the sound of waves crashing filling the space where words should have been. Logan shifted slightly, but he didn’t back off.

“You gonna keep following me?” you asked, your voice low.

Logan exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly. “Ain’t followin’ you, darlin’. Just happened to be in the neighborhood.”

You arched a brow. “Really? You just happened to be at this exact beach, at this exact moment?”

“Guess it’s my lucky day,” he drawled.

You clenched your jaw, debating if you should just turn around and walk away. But something about the way he was looking at you—calm, patient, stubborn as ever—made your skin prickle.

“You waiting for me to say something?” you asked.

Logan shrugged. “Figured you might.”

You inhaled sharply, taking a step closer. “I said goodbye, Logan. You’re the one who won’t let it go.”

His expression didn’t change. “Yeah, you said goodbye. I just didn’t listen.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You don’t even know me.”

Logan tilted his head slightly, studying you. “I know enough.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Unbelievable.”

Before he could respond, Laura called out from behind you. “Are you done flirting, or should I come back later?”

Your head snapped toward her. “Laura.”

She just shrugged, completely unfazed. “What? I’m just saying.”

Logan smirked, and you turned back to him, pointing a finger at his chest. “Don’t.”

He held up his hands in mock surrender, but the smirk didn’t fade.

You huffed. “If you’re gonna keep hanging around, at least be useful and stay out of my way.”

Logan’s gaze flickered over you, something unreadable in his expression. Then, with an infuriating amount of ease, he said, “No promises.”

You clenched your fists, exhaling through your nose before turning sharply on your heel and walking back toward Laura.

She was still smirking when you sat down.

“Shut up,” you muttered.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking it.”

Laura leaned back on her elbows, tilting her head toward Logan. “You know, you could just talk to him like a normal person.”

You ripped open a bag of chips with more force than necessary. “I don’t want to talk to him.”

Laura hummed. “Then why’d you go over there?”

You froze mid-chew before shooting her a glare. “You are so grounded.”

Laura snorted. “Good luck enforcing that.”

You muttered something under your breath, throwing another glance at Logan, who was still standing in the same damn spot, watching the ocean like he had all the time in the world.

You hated how much it felt like he belonged there.

Laura smirked again, popping a chip into her mouth. “You’re gonna have to deal with this at some point, you know.”

You exhaled sharply. “Not today.”

“Yeah,” Laura murmured, staring at Logan. “We’ll see.”

---

It had been a week since the beach. Another week of pretending Logan wasn’t lurking in the background, watching but never interfering. Another week of Laura making way too many smug comments.

You ignored both of them.

Mostly.

Right now, you were more focused on getting home before the storm rolling in had the chance to flood the streets. Florida weather was unpredictable as hell—one minute sunny, the next a full-blown hurricane. The dark clouds overhead rumbled, lightning flashing in the distance as you pulled out of the school parking lot.

You had just turned onto the main road when the car jolted.

Then, the all-too-familiar thunk-thunk-thunk of a flat tire.

You let out a slow, controlled breath through your nose. “Of course.”

You pulled over onto the shoulder, gripping the wheel for a moment before forcing yourself to relax. This was fine. You could handle this.

The moment you stepped out, the humidity hit you like a wall. The air was thick, heavy with the scent of rain and asphalt. You crouched, assessing the damage. The back tire was completely shot, rubber torn to hell.

You sighed, pushing your hair away from your face. “Just needed one more week, you piece of shit,” you muttered, kicking the tire lightly before heading to the trunk for the spare.

A familiar rumble of an engine approached.

You froze for half a second before gritting your teeth.

Not even five minutes and he was here.

Logan’s truck slowed to a stop behind you. You didn’t have to turn around to know he was already climbing out, probably looking all smug and self-satisfied.

“Need a hand?”

You exhaled through your nose before straightening up and turning to face him. “No.”

Logan tilted his head, hands on his hips as he looked from you to the tire. “You sure? ‘Cause that looks pretty fucked.”

“I got it,” you said, crossing your arms.

Logan nodded, clearly not convinced. He watched as you popped the trunk, grabbed the spare, and then crouched back down to remove the damaged tire. You worked quickly, efficiently—this wasn’t exactly your first time handling something like this.

Logan leaned against his truck, arms crossed. “Y’know, most people would just say ‘thanks.’”

You didn’t even glance at him. “Most people aren’t me.”

Logan smirked. “No argument there.”

You ignored him, focusing on the task at hand. A bolt was being stubborn, refusing to budge. You adjusted your grip, using more force—nothing.

Logan pushed off his truck, strolling over. “Want me to—”

You stood up, cutting him off. “I swear to God, Logan, if you—”

Thunder cracked overhead, and the sky opened up.

Within seconds, you were both drenched.

You closed your eyes, inhaling deeply as cold rain soaked through your clothes.

Logan exhaled a short laugh. “Well. That’s unfortunate.”

You snapped your head toward him, glaring. “Really?”

He smirked, completely unfazed by the downpour. “What? You don’t like the rain?”

You huffed, brushing wet hair from your face before crouching back down. “Just shut up and let me work.”

Logan didn’t. Instead, he crouched beside you, reaching for the stubborn bolt.

You swatted his hand away. “I said I got it.”

He just looked at you, unimpressed. “It’s rusted. You need more leverage.”

“I know that.”

Logan didn’t argue. He just waited.

You exhaled sharply before finally moving aside, just enough for him to take over.

With one sharp twist, the bolt loosened.

You clenched your jaw. “Show-off.”

Logan smirked. “You loosened it for me.”

You rolled your eyes, but together, the two of you worked in sync—removing the damaged tire, fitting the spare, tightening the bolts. It was quick, practiced, almost too easy.

By the time you finished, the rain had slowed, leaving the both of you completely soaked.

Logan stood, brushing water from his arms. “Could’ve just let me do the whole thing.”

You shut the trunk with more force than necessary. “Could’ve just driven past and minded your own damn business.”

Logan smirked. “Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?”

You glared at him, but before you could respond, another engine rumbled down the road.

A blue sedan slowed beside you. The passenger window rolled down, revealing an older woman with a concerned expression.

“Everything alright, dear?” she asked, eyes flicking between you and Logan.

You forced a polite smile. “Yeah, I—”

“She’s fine,” Logan interrupted.

You turned sharply toward him. “Excuse you?”

Logan ignored you, giving the woman a nod. “Just a flat. All good now.”

The woman hesitated, glancing at you again before nodding slowly. “Alright, if you’re sure. Stay safe.”

The moment she drove off, you turned to Logan, scowling. “What the hell was that?”

Logan shrugged. “What? You were fine.”

You threw your hands up. “And I couldn’t say that myself?”

Logan smirked. “You could’ve, but you were takin’ too long.”

You huffed, rubbing your temples. “You are insufferable.”

Logan grinned. “And yet, here you are.”

You took a slow breath, reining in your frustration. “Are we done here?”

Logan looked you over, still clearly amused. “Need me to follow you home? Just in case?”

“I’d rather drive off a bridge.”

“Bit dramatic, don’t ya think?”

You turned toward your car, muttering, “Go to hell, Logan.”

He chuckled, stepping back toward his truck. “I’ll see you around, darlin’.”

You didn’t respond, just slammed the driver’s door shut before pulling back onto the road.

When you glanced in the rearview mirror, Logan was still standing there, watching.

And damn it, you hated the way it made your chest tighten.

---

Laura was already sitting on the couch when you walked through the front door, damp clothes clinging to your skin, rain still dripping from your hair. She took one look at you—soaked, pissed off, barely holding yourself together—and sighed.

"You let him help, didn’t you?"

You dropped your keys on the counter with more force than necessary. "No."

Laura arched a brow.

You clenched your jaw, yanking open the fridge just to give yourself something to do. "Fine. Kind of."

Laura smirked. "Figured."

You grabbed a water bottle and shut the fridge, exhaling sharply. "He just happened to be there."

"Uh-huh."

You turned, leveling her with a glare. "Don’t start."

Laura held up her hands in mock surrender, but the amusement never left her face. "I’m just saying, for someone who wants him to leave, you sure make it easy for him to stick around."

You threw the water bottle onto the counter. "You think I want him here?"

Laura’s smirk faded slightly, her expression shifting into something more thoughtful. "I think you don’t know what you want."

That did it.

Your patience, already worn thin, snapped.

"You think I don’t know?" you shot back, voice rising. "You think this is easy? That I like having him in the background, watching, waiting, making me remember things I don’t want to remember?"

Laura blinked, caught off guard by the sudden outburst.

You ran a hand through your wet hair, pacing. "Do you know how hard I worked to move on? How hard I tried to build something—anything—that didn’t lead back to him? And now he’s here, and I can’t—" You cut yourself off, exhaling sharply. "I won’t let him pull me back into it."

Laura’s brows pulled together, her voice quieter. "Mom—"

"No," you said, pointing at her. "You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to act like I’m the one making it complicated when he’s the one who won’t leave."

Laura’s jaw tightened. "Maybe he won’t leave because he actually gives a shit."

"That’s not the point!"

"Then what is the point?" she snapped, standing now. "That he’s not our Logan? That he’s not your Logan?"

You flinched.

Laura shook her head. "You keep acting like he’s a ghost, but he’s not. He’s here. And you can keep pretending it doesn’t matter, but it does. He does."

Your chest tightened. "He’s not the man I married."

"No," Laura said, her voice quieter but no less firm. "But he’s still Logan."

Silence.

Your hands curled into fists at your sides, the weight of her words pressing down on you like a vice.

Laura let out a slow breath, her shoulders slumping slightly. "I know you miss him."

Your throat burned. "It doesn’t matter."

"It does."

You shook your head, turning away. "I need to shower."

"Mom—"

"I need to shower, Laura."

She didn’t argue this time. She just watched as you walked toward the bathroom, your legs heavier with every step.

When the door clicked shut behind you, you pressed your back against it, squeezing your eyes shut.

You could still hear his voice in your head, feel the warmth of his hands on yours, see the way he used to look at you—like you were the only thing keeping him steady.

And now he was here. Not your Logan. Not the man you’d built a life with. But Logan all the same.

Laura was right.

But that didn’t mean you were ready to face it.

---

You grunted as you pulled again, trying to unlodge the stubborn screw. “Stupid. Fucking—” A warm hand enveloped yours, you didn’t need to turn around to know who’s. “I got it, kotik.”

He hummed, not condescending, but like he knew you did. “I know. Just lemme help.”

You exhaled sharply through your nose but didn’t fight him when his hand covered yours, his other gripping the wrench. With barely any effort, he turned it, the stubborn screw finally giving way with a sharp creak.

You scowled. “I had it.”

Logan smirked, setting the wrench down. “Sure, sweetheart.”

You huffed, swiping your arm across your forehead, smudging a bit of grease in the process. Logan caught it, his thumb brushing the mark off before you could duck away. His touch lingered, his eyes scanning your face.

“What’s wrong?”

You scoffed, grabbing a rag to wipe your hands. “It was the damn screw you just unlodged.”

Logan’s brow twitched. “Try again.”

You sighed, rolling your shoulders, the tension refusing to ease. “It’s nothing.”

“Didn’t ask if it was nothing,” he said, arms crossing. “Asked what’s wrong.”

You hesitated, gripping the rag tighter before exhaling. “Scott’s just… piling things on me. Ororo asked me to help out more with the kids during training, which I want to do, but then Scott starts throwing his bullshit at me too. Paperwork, scheduling, grading tests that he’s supposed to be handling." You shook your head. "And now, apparently, I’m also in charge of making sure half the team doesn’t set themselves on fire in the Danger Room.”

Logan nodded slowly. “That all?”

Your jaw clenched. “No.”

He waited, saying nothing. Just watching.

You groaned, tossing the rag onto the workbench. “It’s everything. The mansion, the missions, the meetings—God, the meetings. I swear, if I have to sit through another three-hour debate about whether the Blackbird should have a different paint job, I’m gonna throw myself off the roof.”

Logan huffed a quiet laugh, stepping closer. “Y’know, you could just tell ‘em to go to hell.”

You snorted. “Yeah, and then Scott would really make my life miserable.”

Logan’s hand found your waist, his grip warm and steady. “Then let me do it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, that would go over great. You storming into a meeting, claws out, telling Summers where to shove his clipboard.”

Logan grinned. “Tempting.”

You sighed, finally leaning into him. “I’m just tired, kotik.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple. “I know.”

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. His hand traced slow circles against your lower back, grounding you. The steady rise and fall of his breathing, the quiet hum of the mansion in the distance—it was enough to make you forget the stress, just for a second.

“You should tell him no,” Logan murmured.

You tilted your head up to meet his gaze. “And what? Let the entire school burn down?”

His lips twitched. “Not our problem.”

You huffed a small laugh, shaking your head. “You say that, but we both know you’d be the first one running in if it did.”

Logan’s smirk softened. “Maybe.”

You sighed, resting your forehead against his chest. “I hate when you’re right.”

“Lucky for you, it ain’t often.”

You smiled against his shirt, letting the exhaustion slip away—at least for now.

---

You woke up to the sound of waves crashing outside, your chest tight, your skin too warm.

For a moment, you forgot where you were. You expected the distant hum of the mansion, the smell of Logan’s aftershave, the warmth of his body beside you.

But the bed was empty. The room was quiet.

And Logan was gone.

You swallowed hard, blinking up at the ceiling.

It was just a dream.

Just a memory.

And that’s all it would ever be.

---

The day passed in a blur. You went through the motions—teaching gym class, keeping the kids in line, pretending like nothing was wrong. Like you hadn’t spent the entire morning haunted by a dream that wasn’t just a dream.

Like Logan hadn’t found you.

You’d seen him again after work. He wasn’t trying to hide this time. He leaned against his truck, arms crossed, watching from across the parking lot. Not approaching. Not leaving. Just waiting.

And it pissed you off.

Laura wasn’t home when you got back. Probably at the beach or grabbing food. You had a few hours to yourself, time to think, time to breathe—

A knock at the door cut through the silence.

You stared at it.

Another knock. Louder this time.

You already knew who it was.

Jaw clenched, you walked over and yanked the door open, grip tight on the handle.

Logan stood there, his expression unreadable. “Hey.”

You didn’t hesitate. “No.”

His brow furrowed. “No?”

You stepped onto the porch, shutting the door behind you. “No. Whatever the hell you think you’re doing? No.”

Logan exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Ain’t here to start a fight, darlin’.”

“Then why are you here?” you snapped, crossing your arms. “Because if you think I’m just gonna let you hover around like some stray, you’re dead wrong.”

Logan’s jaw flexed. “I just wanna talk.”

“And say the same goddamn bullshit? Here’s the thing,” you gripped the collar of his leather jacket tightly, pulling him slightly closer to you. “I don’t fucking care.”

Logan didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away. Just stared at you, his expression unreadable.

Your fingers curled tighter around his jacket, the leather warm beneath your grip. “You think this is romantic? You think tailing me for months, showing up at my fucking door, is gonna make me change my mind?” You shoved him back—hard. He barely stumbled. “I don’t care what you have to say, Logan.”

His jaw clenched. “Yeah? Then why’d you open the door?”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Because I knew you wouldn’t leave if I didn’t.”

Logan exhaled through his nose, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m not here to fight with you.”

“Then what the hell do you want?” Your voice was sharp, cutting through the humid night air.

He dropped his hand, looking at you like the answer was obvious. “I want to know why you’re lyin’ to yourself.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Jesus, Logan, get over yourself.”

“I ain’t talkin’ about me,” he shot back. “I’m talkin’ about you.”

You clenched your fists, nails digging into your palms. “I told you—”

“No, you haven’t,” Logan interrupted, stepping closer. “You keep pushin’ me away, but you ain’t sayin’ why.”

“Because I don’t owe you a fucking reason,” you snapped.

Logan studied you, his gaze slow, careful. “It’s ‘cause of him, ain’t it?”

Your stomach twisted, but your expression didn’t falter. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, you do,” he murmured. “The Logan you lost. The one that was yours.”

Your breath hitched.

Logan’s voice was quieter now, steady but rough. “That’s why you’re runnin’, why you won’t let yourself stop. ‘Cause you think if you do, you’re betrayin’ him.”

You hated how easily he saw through you.

Your throat felt tight, but you forced out a scoff. “You don’t know shit, Logan.”

“I know grief.” His voice was low, weighted. “I know what it does to you. How it makes you feel like movin’ on is some kinda sin.”

You looked away, jaw tight.

“I also know,” he continued, “that it don’t go away. Don’t matter how far you run, how many times you try to start over.” His tone softened, just slightly. “It stays with you. But it don’t mean you gotta stay buried with it.”

Your hands trembled. You curled them into fists to stop it.

“Look at me,” Logan said.

You didn’t.

A rough sigh, then—you felt it. His hand, warm, familiar, pressing against the side of your face. You stiffened, but he didn’t force it, just let his thumb brush against your cheek.

“Darlin’,” Logan murmured. “I ain’t askin’ you to forget him.”

You swallowed hard.

“I just don’t want you to forget yourself.”

Your breath hitched.

You wanted to shove him away again. Wanted to punch him. Wanted to yell and tell him he was wrong.

But the worst part? He wasn’t.

And you fucking hated him for it.

Your eyes stung, but you refused to let them fall.

Finally, you forced yourself to move, pulling back, breaking the contact. “Go home, Logan.”

Logan didn’t move.

You inhaled sharply. “I mean it.”

He studied you for a long moment before nodding once. “Alright.”

Then—he stepped back, hands in his pockets. But he didn’t turn around. Didn’t leave.

Not yet.

His gaze lingered on you, something unreadable in it.

Then, quieter, rougher—

“I’ll see you around.”

You didn’t answer.

And this time, when he walked away—you didn’t watch him go.

---

He could tell you weren’t fully asleep, nor fully awake, when he got back. The lamp on your bedside table was still on, but your glasses were neatly folded on top of your book.

“Hmm? Logan?”

He slipped off his boots and pulled off his shirt before sliding in behind you, gently pushing your shoulder down so you wouldn’t get up. “Yeah. ‘S me.”

"It’s 2 in the morning." Your voice was quiet, thick with sleep. "You’ve been comin’ home later."

Logan exhaled through his nose, running a hand down his face as he settled onto the bed beside you. His body was still warm from the whiskey, the buzz clinging to the edges of his thoughts. He didn’t answer right away, just reached over and turned off your lamp, leaving only the soft glow of the nightlight in the corner.

You shifted, turning onto your side to face him. Even in the dim light, he could see your eyes—heavy with exhaustion but still watching him, still waiting. You always waited.

For months now, you had tried to get him to stay. At first, you asked outright, voice soft but certain—"Stay tonight?" And when that didn’t work, you tried coaxing, offering quiet conversation, little distractions, your presence alone.

Then, when that didn’t work either, it became this.

Half-asleep murmurs. The lingering hope that maybe, just maybe, he’d come home early for once.

But he never did.

"Yeah," Logan muttered, shifting onto his back. "Got caught up."

You huffed, barely a sound, but he felt it more than heard it. "You always do."

Logan stared at the ceiling, jaw tight. He could feel the weight of your gaze on him, the way you were waiting for him to say something—anything—to ease the ache in your chest. But he didn’t. Because he didn’t know how.

The silence stretched between you.

Then, quietly, you spoke again. "You don’t have to go every night."

Logan swallowed, his throat dry. He could lie, say it wasn’t about the bar, say he just needed the air. But you weren’t stupid. You knew what he was doing, why he kept his distance even when he was right here beside you.

So he didn’t say anything at all.

After a beat, you sighed and turned over, your back to him. A clear dismissal.

Logan closed his eyes, listening to the quiet sound of your breathing as you drifted off.

It wasn’t always like this.

At the start, you stayed up for him. You’d wait in the library, curled up with a book, or in the kitchen with tea, pretending you just happened to be awake. You used to smile when he walked in, small and tired but warm. You’d ask how his night was, even when you knew he wouldn’t answer properly.

And then, when you realized nothing changed, you started waiting in bed instead. Eyes heavy but open, glasses slipping down your nose, always murmuring some half-asleep greeting before reaching for him.

Now? Now you barely waited at all.

Logan exhaled, turning his head to look at you. You were already asleep.

Something settled deep in his chest—heavy, uncomfortable.

This wouldn’t last.

You wouldn’t wait forever.

And for the first time, the thought of losing you—of pushing you too far—felt a hell of a lot worse than whatever he was trying to drown at the bottom of a bottle.

---

Logan’s eyes snapped open.

For a second, he was disoriented, still caught in the haze of the dream—no, the memory. He could still feel the warmth of you beside him, still hear your voice, soft and tired, asking him to stay.

But when he blinked, the bedroom was gone.

No mansion. No soft lamp glow.

Just the inside of his truck, the Florida heat creeping in through the cracked window.

Logan let out a slow breath, scrubbing a hand down his face. His body was tense, jaw clenched so tight it ached. The dream had been too real—too damn vivid.

He reached for the flask in the cupholder, unscrewing the cap with steady fingers. He didn’t drink from it. Just held it.

The memory had felt like a lifetime ago. Because it was—but not his. Not this Logan’s.

It was hers.

The woman who wasn’t his Y/N but still had the same voice, the same eyes, the same way of looking at him like he was something worth waiting for.

Except this time?

She wasn’t waiting.

And Logan wasn’t sure if he was ready for what that meant.

---

For the first time in weeks, Logan wasn’t there.

You didn’t see him leaning against his truck outside the school. He wasn’t loitering at the grocery store. He wasn’t in your goddamn peripheral, watching but never pushing, always waiting for you to acknowledge him.

And it pissed you off.

You should’ve been relieved. You had told him to leave, to back off. You had shoved him, yelled at him, made it perfectly clear that you didn’t need him here—didn’t want him here.

So why the hell did your chest feel tight?

Why did you keep glancing out the window when you left work, expecting to see him?

Why did it feel wrong that he wasn’t following?

Laura noticed before you did.

“You’re looking for him,” she said flatly, popping a fry into her mouth as the two of you sat at a booth in some local diner.

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

Laura gave you a look over the rim of her milkshake. “Logan.”

You scoffed, picking at the label of your water bottle. “I’m not—”

“Yeah, you are.” She dipped a fry in ketchup, not even trying to hide her smirk. “You’ve checked the door, like, five times.”

You rolled your eyes. “I was looking at the—” You stopped, realizing you had absolutely nothing to follow that up with.

Laura arched a brow. “Right.”

You huffed, slouching back against the booth. “He’s not here.”

“Yeah. Because you told him to leave.”

“So?”

Laura shrugged. “Didn’t think he actually would, did you?”

You didn’t answer.

Because the truth was, you hadn’t expected him to leave. Logan was stubborn. Logan didn’t give up. If anything, you had expected him to show up again, keep pushing, keep trying to get you to talk.

But he hadn’t.

And for some reason, that scared you.

Laura sighed, wiping her hands on a napkin before leaning forward. “You can’t have it both ways, you know.”

Your brow furrowed. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means you can’t tell him to leave and then get all weird when he actually does.”

You clenched your jaw. “I didn’t want him here.”

Laura tilted her head. “Didn’t you?”

You stared at her, stomach twisting, because you didn’t want him here—did you?

No. You didn’t.

But you didn’t want him gone, either.

You stood abruptly, tossing some bills onto the table. “C’mon. We’re leaving.”

Laura just smirked. “Where to?”

You grabbed your jacket. “I need to find Logan.”

---

It didn’t take long.

Logan wasn’t exactly subtle, and you had been trained to track people long before you ever met him. It was almost insulting how easy it was.

His truck was parked outside some shitty motel off the main road, tucked into the shadows near a flickering neon sign.

You could’ve knocked on his door. Could’ve walked right up, demanded an explanation—Why the hell did you listen to me?

But you didn’t.

Instead, you waited.

You sat in your car across the street, watching from the shadows, waiting to see if he’d leave. If he’d drive off, if he was planning on staying. If he was really, actually gone.

But Logan never left.

Hours passed. The motel lights flickered. You saw him once—stepping outside just long enough to smoke a cigarette before heading back in. No sign of him packing up, no sign of him driving away.

He wasn’t following you anymore.

But he hadn’t left, either.

You exhaled slowly, gripping the steering wheel.

This was the first time in months that Logan wasn’t hovering just outside your reach. And yet, you had tracked him down anyway.

Maybe Laura was right.

Maybe you hadn’t wanted him to leave.

Not really.

You ran a hand through your hair, exhaling sharply as you stared at Logan’s truck.

What the hell am I doing?

You had spent months trying to get him to leave, and now here you were, parked outside some shitty motel like some stalker, watching and waiting. For what? For him to notice? For him to come back?

No. That wasn’t what you wanted.

You gritted your teeth, fingers drumming against the steering wheel. Then why are you still here?

You could just drive away. Go back home, pretend like you never saw him, pretend like this didn’t bother you.

But it did.

It bothered you that he listened. It bothered you that he left. It bothered you that, for the first time since he showed up, he wasn’t pushing you.

And you didn’t know why that scared you.

With a frustrated sigh, you shoved the door open and got out, the night air thick and humid around you. The gravel crunched beneath your boots as you crossed the street, your steps quick and deliberate.

You didn’t give yourself time to hesitate. If you thought about it too much, you’d turn back. And you weren’t ready to do that yet.

You knocked on the motel door.

Silence.

Your jaw clenched, and you knocked again—louder this time.

Still nothing.

A flicker of irritation ran through you. “Logan, open the damn door.”

Nothing.

Your patience snapped. You grabbed the doorknob and twisted. It was locked, of course, but that was never a problem for you. With a practiced flick of your wrist, you popped the lock and shoved the door open.

Logan was inside, sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, a cigar burning between his fingers. He didn’t look surprised to see you. If anything, he looked tired.

“Real subtle, darlin’,” he muttered, exhaling smoke through his nose.

You crossed your arms. “You weren’t answering.”

“Didn’t feel like talkin’.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Too bad.”

Logan huffed out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “Figures.”

You stepped inside, kicking the door shut behind you. “You just gonna sit there?”

“What do you want, Y/N?” Logan asked, his voice rough. Not annoyed. Just… tired.

The way he said your name made your stomach twist. You weren’t sure why.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, crossing your arms tighter.

Logan studied you, taking another slow drag from his cigar before stubbing it out in the ashtray. “Then why are you here?”

You shifted on your feet, avoiding his gaze. Because you left. Because I thought I wanted you gone, but now that you are, I—

You shook the thought away, exhaling sharply. “I just… I thought you would’ve left.”

Logan arched a brow. “And that bothered you?”

You hesitated.

That was enough of an answer.

Logan sighed, leaning back against the bed, arms resting behind him. “You told me to back off. So I did.”

You scoffed. “You don’t listen to people.”

Logan smirked slightly. “Guess you ain’t people.”

You hated how easily that threw you off balance.

Your throat tightened. “I don’t—”

“I ain’t askin’ for anything,” Logan said, cutting you off. “Not chasin’ you. Not pushin’ you. I meant what I said—I don’t wanna force you into anything.”

You swallowed hard. “Then why are you still here?”

Logan’s gaze didn’t waver. “Maybe ‘cause I don’t want to leave, either.”

The air in the room felt heavy. Stifling.

You had spent so much time running, so much time convincing yourself that pushing him away was the only option. But now, standing here, looking at him—tired, frustrated, but still here—you didn’t know what the hell you were supposed to do anymore.

You took a slow breath, forcing your voice to stay steady. “You were… right.”

His brows furrowed slightly, like he wasn’t sure what part you were referring to.

You swallowed, crossing your arms tighter over your chest. “What you said. About grief. About moving on feeling like a sin.”

Logan stayed quiet, but his gaze sharpened, locking onto yours.

You exhaled, shaking your head. “I spent years running because it was easier. Because if I stopped, if I let myself…” You trailed off, fingers curling around your arms. “Then it would feel like I was betraying him. Like I was forgetting him.”

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

Your throat felt tight, but you forced yourself to keep talking. “I tried to build something new with Laura. I wanted to. And for a while, it worked. Seven years in Canada, we were okay. We were living, not just surviving. And then—” You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “The TVA happened. The Void happened. And suddenly, it was like all that time meant nothing.”

Logan was still watching you, but his expression was unreadable, his hands resting on his thighs as he leaned forward slightly.

“Then you showed up.” Your voice was quieter now. “And I didn’t know what the hell to do with that. Because I knew you weren’t him. I knew that. But every time I looked at you, every time you called me ‘darlin’ and looked at me like you knew me…” You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “It just made me feel like I was losing him all over again.”

“I mean, I can’t even take off my damn wedding ring,” your voice cracked, “without feeling nauseous even though it’s been years.”

Logan’s gaze flicked down to your hand, to the ring still wrapped around your finger. His jaw clenched, something flickering in his eyes—something you didn’t want to name.

“You think that’s wrong?” he asked, voice low.

You swallowed hard. “I don’t know.”

Logan exhaled through his nose, shifting forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. “Ain’t wrong to hold onto what matters.”

Your fingers twitched, curling slightly, but you didn’t look away. “Then why does it feel like it is?”

Logan was quiet for a moment, studying you. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, steadier. “Because you think lettin’ go means losin’ him.”

Your throat tightened, but you didn’t answer.

Logan sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I ain’t gonna tell you to take it off. Ain’t gonna tell you to move on, either.” He leaned back, rubbing a thumb over his knuckles. “That’s gotta be your choice, darlin’.”

Something about that made your stomach twist. Maybe because you had spent so long convincing yourself you had to move on, that moving on meant leaving Logan behind—your Logan. The one who wasn’t sitting in front of you.

But then Logan spoke again, and his next words shattered every bit of resolve you had left.

“You ain’t the only one holdin’ on.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Logan reached into his pocket, pulling something out—something small, something old. He turned it over in his fingers before setting it on the nightstand beside him.

A ring.

Gold, simple, worn from time.

Your stomach flipped.

“I bought this the first time I met you,” he said, voice rough. “A long time ago. Different you. Different me. But you always come back, don’t you?”

You stared at the ring, your heartbeat hammering against your ribs. “Logan—”

“I kept it,” he muttered, rubbing his thumb over the band. “Every time. Even when I knew I’d lose you again.” He exhaled slowly, shaking his head. “And every time, I tell myself I won’t go through it again.”

You swallowed hard. “But you do.”

Logan smirked slightly, but there was no humor behind it. “Yeah. Guess I do.”

Silence settled between you, heavy with everything left unsaid. The motel room felt smaller now, the air thicker. Your fingers twitched at your sides, your chest tight with something you weren’t ready to name.

Finally, you moved.

You walked forward, slow but deliberate, until you were standing right in front of him. Logan didn’t move, didn’t speak, just watched you with that same patient, knowing look.

And then—hesitantly—you sat down next to him.

Not close enough to touch. Not close enough for it to mean anything.

But not far, either.

Logan didn’t say a word.

And for the first time in a long time, neither did you.

---

A few weeks later

You were cooking dinner while drinking a glass of wine—or rather the whole bottle. It wasn’t your fault you had a high alcohol tolerance.

“Jesus, fuck kid!”

“You started it!”

You furrowed your brows, stepping onto the back porch, wine glass still in hand. The salty ocean breeze brushed past as you leaned against the wooden railing, watching Logan and Laura circle each other in the sand.

The backyard—if you could even call it that—was part of a private beach, the stretch of sand leading straight into the rolling waves. Normally, it was peaceful. Right now? Not so much.

Logan huffed, rolling his shoulders. “Yeah, and I’m endin’ it.”

“Doubt it,” Laura smirked before lunging again.

You sighed, watching them spar. To anyone else, it probably looked brutal—claws flashing, sand kicking up with every hit—but you knew better. This was bonding. In the weird, violent, feral way that only the Howlett bloodline could manage.

Laura landed a punch against Logan’s ribs, but he barely flinched. He countered by grabbing her wrist and twisting her to the ground, pinning her for a brief second before she slipped free and jumped back to her feet.

“You two done trying to kill each other?” you called out, swirling the wine in your glass.

Logan scoffed, wiping a bit of sweat from his brow. “She’s the one that don’t know when to quit.”

Laura grinned, unfazed. “Neither do you.”

You huffed a quiet laugh before pushing off the railing. “Dinner’s almost done. Either finish up or starve.”

Neither of them responded, too caught up in the fight, but you knew they’d trail in soon enough. You turned and walked back inside, closing the sliding door behind you.

What you didn’t see was Laura catching Logan staring at your ass as you walked away.

She paused, then turned slowly toward him.

Logan blinked, realizing too late that he’d been caught.

“…Don’t,” he warned.

Laura smirked. “Too late.”

Then she lunged—only this time, it wasn’t part of the fight. She jumped onto his back, wrapping her arms around his neck, and before Logan could react, she drove her foot claws into his ribs.

“Mother—fuck!”

Laura hopped off, landing perfectly on the sand while Logan stumbled forward, clutching his side. Blood bloomed beneath his shirt.

“That’s what you get,” Laura said simply, brushing sand off her hands.

Logan glared at her. “For what?!”

“For being gross.”

Logan clenched his jaw, nostrils flaring. “I wasn’t—”

“Yeah, you were.” Laura crossed her arms, looking unimpressed. “Don’t do it again.”

Logan groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Jesus Christ, kid.”

Laura just smirked, turning toward the house. “C’mon, old man. Before she yells at us for being late.”

Logan sighed, running a hand through his hair before following her inside.

By the time they stepped into the house, you were already setting plates on the table. You barely glanced up—until you noticed the two fresh blood spots on Logan’s shirt.

You exhaled sharply through your nose. “Сраные идиоты,” you muttered under your breath.

Logan frowned. “What?”

“Nothing,” you said flatly. “Sit.”

Logan sighed, knowing better than to argue. He pulled out a chair and sat down, peeling off his shirt with a wince. Laura dropped into the seat across from him, completely unbothered, already helping herself to food.

---

You took another sip of coffee, leaning against the kitchen counter, watching as Laura shoveled cereal into her mouth at a pace that should’ve been illegal. Across the room, Logan sat in a chair, looking far too at home with his cup of coffee, flipping through the newspaper like it was 1954.

It was normal. Too normal.

You narrowed your eyes. “Why the hell are you reading the paper?”

Logan didn’t look up. “Why the hell are you watchin’ me read the paper?”

Laura snorted, not even trying to hide her smirk. “He’s got a point.”

You rolled your eyes, taking another sip of coffee. “It’s weird.”

Logan finally looked up from his paper, brow raised. “What’s weird?”

“You,” you said, motioning at him with your mug. “Sitting there, reading the paper like some suburban dad in a toothpaste commercial.”

Logan smirked, flicking the edge of the page. “It’s called keepin’ up with the world, sweetheart.”

Laura snorted. “You’re reading the classifieds.”

Logan flipped the paper shut with a sigh. “Well, excuse me for enjoyin’ the simple things.”

You shook your head, amused. It had only been a few weeks since he stopped lurking in the background and actually started integrating into your lives. He had a habit of acting like he didn’t belong—like he was just passing through, despite all evidence to the contrary. But moments like these, sitting at the kitchen table, bickering over nothing? They felt normal.

Not forced. Not heavy. Just… easy.

You were about to tease him again when the sound of a car horn blasted through the quiet morning.

Laura groaned. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Logan frowned, setting the paper aside. “Who the hell—”

Another honk. Longer this time.

“Motherfu—” You set your coffee down and turned toward the door, already knowing exactly who it was.

Logan followed, his expression somewhere between annoyed and resigned. “You expecting company?”

You grabbed the shotgun from beside the door, checking the chamber. “Nope.”

Laura smirked, leaning against the counter. “I call headshot.”

You smirked back. “Good luck. I’m faster.”

Logan sighed, rubbing his temples. “Jesus Christ. Just don’t kill ‘im.”

“No promises.”

You stepped onto the porch, raising the shotgun as you caught sight of Wade, standing beside his beat-up rental car, arms outstretched like some kind of messiah.

“Hello, my beautiful, homicidal family!” he called, grinning under his mask.

You pulled the trigger.

The first shot hit him square in the chest.

He staggered back, wheezing. “Okay—ow.”

You pumped the shotgun and fired again, this time hitting his shoulder.

Wade groaned, clutching his arm. “Rude!”

Logan stepped onto the porch behind you, arms crossed. “Really?”

You shrugged, pumping the shotgun again. “He’s still standing.”

Wade held up a finger. “Technically, I’m swaying.”

Laura stepped outside, standing next to Logan. “You missed his head.”

You rolled your eyes. “I didn’t miss. I’m savoring it.”

Wade straightened, shaking out his arms. “Alright, I deserved that. Maybe. Probably not. But—” He put his hands on his hips. “Didn’t expect the welcoming committee to include bullets.”

“You helped him find us,” you reminded him, motioning toward Logan with the barrel of the gun. “And then you just disappeared.”

Wade gasped. “Disappeared? Sweetheart, I gave you your own personal brooding, clawed man-child and then respectfully stepped aside so you could work through your very complicated feelings.” He tilted his head. “Which, judging by the tension on this porch, you’re still working through.”

You aimed the shotgun at his head.

“Okay! Okay!” Wade put his hands up. “I come in peace! No missions, no TVA bullshit, no looming apocalyptic threats. Just little old me, paying a visit to my favorite dysfunctional murder family.”

Laura tilted her head. “You brought gifts?”

Wade paused. “No.”

Laura looked at you. “Shoot him again.”

“Gladly.”

Logan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Let the idiot talk before you put another hole in him.”

You exhaled sharply but lowered the gun. “Fine. Five minutes.”

Wade dusted himself off, cracking his neck. “I can work with that.” He strolled past you and into the house like he owned the place.

Logan shot you a look.

You just shrugged. “I’ll reload.”

Logan exhaled sharply, shaking his head as Wade strolled inside like he owned the place. You followed, setting the shotgun back in its usual spot near the door, but you kept an eye on Wade as he plopped onto the couch, boots kicked up on the coffee table like he belonged there.

Laura sat back down at the kitchen counter, spooning more cereal into her mouth as she watched the interaction unfold like a live-action sitcom.

Logan crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. “So? You gonna explain why you’re here, or am I just supposed to shoot you myself?”

Wade sighed dramatically, tilting his head back. “Wow. No ‘Hey, Wade, long time no see!’ No ‘How’s life treating you, Wade?’ Just straight to the violence. And after everything I’ve done for you.”

“You didn’t do shit,” Logan muttered.

Wade gasped, clutching his chest. “I helped you find your long-lost murder wife and stabby daughter! And this is the thanks I get?”

You narrowed your eyes. “You helped him track us, then bailed. So yeah, not exactly getting a warm welcome.”

Wade sat up, waving a dismissive hand. “Oh, please. You two needed time to work through your very complicated emotions without my handsome, charming self getting in the way.” He glanced at Laura. “Right, stabby junior?”

Laura scooped another spoonful of cereal into her mouth. “Don’t call me that.”

“See?” Wade pointed at her. “Bonding. Growth. Character development. I did you all a favor.”

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose. “You got five minutes to explain why you’re here before I throw your ass back outside.”

“Fine, fine.” Wade rolled his shoulders. “Like I said, no missions, no apocalyptic disasters, no TVA crap. I just thought, ‘Hey, it’s been a minute since I’ve seen my two favorite feral murderers and their grumpy third wheel—why not drop in?’”

Laura swallowed her bite of cereal. “You came all this way for that?”

“Yes!” Wade threw his hands up. “Is it a crime to want to visit family?”

You scoffed. “We’re not family.”

“Well, no, but emotionally? Spiritually? Definitely.” Wade turned to Logan. “Especially you, big guy. We’ve got history. We’ve been through things. We’ve murdered people together. That’s a bond you don’t just throw away.”

Logan groaned. “Christ.”

Laura wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “You got a hotel or something?”

Wade grinned under the mask. “I was actually thinking I’d crash here.”

You, Logan, and Laura all responded in unison.

“No.”

Wade groaned, flopping back onto the couch. “You people have no hospitality.”

“We have boundaries,” you corrected.

“And I have a deep, unrelenting need to be included in your lives,” Wade countered, making himself comfortable.

Logan pushed off the wall. “You’re leavin’ in an hour.”

“Oh, c’mon, Logan, don’t be like that,” Wade whined. “I brought snacks.” He reached into his utility belt, pulling out a crumpled bag of gas station gummy bears.

Laura stared at them. “Are those even sealed?”

“Nope.” Wade shook the bag. “Still good, though.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Jesus, Wade.”

“What? It’s the thought that counts.” He sat up again, stretching his arms. “So, what’ve you lovebirds been up to?”

“Don’t start,” you warned.

Wade leaned in, resting his chin on his hands. “Oh, I’m starting. I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. And let me tell you—there’s a whole lot of unresolved, slow-burn, will-they-won’t-they going on.”

Logan scowled. “Ain’t shit goin’ on.”

Wade gasped. “So you admit there could be something going on?”

Logan turned to you. “Can I kill him?”

You took a sip of your coffee, considering it. “I mean, he’d just come back.”

Laura stood, grabbing her backpack from the counter. “I’m going to the beach. I don’t have the patience for this.”

Wade pouted. “Aww, leaving so soon?”

Laura slung her bag over her shoulder, grabbing an apple from the counter. “Yeah. Before I commit an actual homicide.”

You motioned toward the door with your coffee mug. “Have fun, don’t kill anyone.”

Laura pointed at Wade. “No promises if he follows me.”

Wade placed a hand over his heart. “I would never.”

Laura shot him a look before heading out, leaving the three of you alone.

Wade stretched his arms over his head. “Sooo… what’s next? Movie night? Group therapy? A good ol’ fashioned team-building exercise?”

Logan grabbed him by the back of his suit, hauling him toward the door.

“Alright, alright! I get it!” Wade protested, feet dragging against the floor. “I’ll leave! But just know this—I will be back. Because deep down, you all love me.”

Logan yanked the door open and shoved him outside.

Wade turned back, wagging a finger. “This isn’t over.”

Logan slammed the door shut.

Silence.

You took a sip of coffee. “Ten bucks says he comes back in an hour.”

Logan sighed. “I hate that you’re probably right.”

---

The smell of fresh coffee drifts through the small kitchen as you rummage in a cabinet for cereal. Laura, half-asleep in an old T-shirt and shorts, slumps at the table with her chin propped on one hand. Across from her, Logan reads the newspaper, though he’s not really turning the pages—more like staring at the same article, his focus wandering.

You pull out the cereal box, shaking it to confirm it still has something inside. “Any of you want a bowl, or am I the only one who still eats this?”

Laura mumbles without lifting her head, “I’ll take some. Didn’t we run out of milk yesterday?”

Logan finally looks up, folding the paper. “I grabbed some on the way home last night.”

You tilt your head, somewhat surprised. “You did?”

He shrugs, like it’s nothing. “Figured you two would appreciate not startin’ the day with black coffee and dry cereal.” He sets the newspaper aside, standing to help. “I’ll grab it.”

Laura lifts her head, eyeing the two of you with mild suspicion. “That’s… domestic.”

Logan huffs a soft laugh, opening the fridge. “You callin’ me soft, kid?”

She smirks, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Just making an observation.”

You slide a bowl across to her. “Say thank you, or he’s never doing anything nice again.”

Logan snorts, pouring milk into your bowl first. “You sayin’ I’m not nice?”

Laura just raises a brow. “You’re nice in a grumpy, borderline-feral way, sure.”

You stifle a laugh, taking the milk carton from Logan to finish up Laura’s bowl. “Settle down, you two. It’s too early for bickering.”

Laura mumbles a reluctant, “Thanks,” before digging in.

Logan leans against the counter, sipping from a mug of coffee. For a moment, there’s a quiet ease in the room: Laura’s crunching cereal, you adding sugar to your cup, the morning sun filtering through the windows. No drama, no big conversations—just normal, daily life.

Finally, Laura sets her spoon down, glancing at Logan over the rim of her bowl. “So… you’re picking me up after I’m done, right?”

Logan nods. “Figured I’d swing by. Unless you’d rather walk?”

She wrinkles her nose. “It’s like a hundred degrees. I’ll take the ride.”

You snort into your coffee. “Told you that you shouldn’t wear all black if you’re worried about the heat, muñeca.”

Laura shoots you a light glare, but there’s no real heat behind it. “I like black.”

Logan smirks, finishing the last of his coffee. “Kinda partial to it myself.”

Laura gestures at both your outfits—yours is a faded tank top and shorts, Logan’s wearing his usual jeans and a T-shirt. “We need a family shopping trip, or something. This color scheme is depressing.”

You exchange a glance with Logan, both of you raising a brow.

“Look, we’re not exactly the pastel type,” you say, shrugging.

Laura just sighs dramatically. “Fine. I’ll be the fashion icon in this house.”

Logan folds his arms, feigning seriousness. “I can’t wait to see what horrors you drag us into.”

---

Not long after breakfast, you find yourself sorting through a pile of laundry in the living room, music playing softly from an old radio. Logan wanders in from the porch, running a hand through his hair.

“Got your towels on the line,” he says, plopping down on the couch. “They should be dry by lunch.”

You raise a brow, folding one of Laura’s T-shirts. “Look at you, all domesticated.”

He grunts. “I know how to hang a towel.”

“Sure you do,” you tease, giving him a sideways look. “Next step: vacuuming.”

He picks an invisible speck of lint off his jeans. “Don’t push it.”

You fight a grin, focusing back on the laundry. It’s quiet for a bit, just the low hum of the radio filling the space.

Eventually, Logan clears his throat. “I was thinkin’,” he starts, somewhat hesitant. “We could grill tonight. Might as well enjoy the weather before it gets too hot.”

You pause, glancing his way. “Sounds good. Laura’s meeting with her friends later, but she’ll be back for dinner. We can pick up some extra stuff at the store.”

Logan nods, draping an arm over the couch. His gaze lingers on you a moment, like he wants to say more but isn’t sure how. Then he just nods again, quietly content.

You manage a small smile, folding another shirt. “Guess we’re doin’ normal pretty well these days, huh?”

“Could get used to it,” he murmurs, voice low.

Your eyes meet for just a second, something unspoken passing between you. Then you clear your throat, toss the shirt aside, and stand up. “Well, if we’re grilling, we might need marinade, and we’re nearly out of vegetables. Let’s go before the midday rush.”

Logan pushes himself up. “You want me to drive?”

You think it over, shrug, and toss him the keys. “Sure. Just… try not to side-swipe every car you pass.”

He catches the keys effortlessly, rolling his eyes. “I’m not that bad.”

“Says the guy who nearly took out a stop sign last week,” you retort, but there’s a teasing note in your voice.

He shakes his head, slipping on his boots. “You done with that laundry?”

“For now. Let’s leave it for Laura.”

Logan smirks. “Smart.”

---

Back from the store, groceries in tow, you find Laura sprawled on the couch, a book open on her lap. She looks up when you and Logan enter, arms loaded with bags.

“You got the stuff for the grill?” she asks, nose wrinkling. “Because all I see is lettuce.”

You frown, glancing down at your bags. “There’s more than lettuce, muñeca. Where’s the gratitude?”

She shrugs, turning a page. “Thanks, Mom.”

Logan sets his own bags on the counter with a grunt. “Everything else is in here, including that weird juice you like.”

Laura closes her book, swinging her legs off the couch. “You found it?”

He nods. “Took me five minutes to track it down, but yeah.”

A genuine smile creeps onto Laura’s face—rare, but it’s there. “Cool. Thanks.”

You give Logan a light nudge with your elbow, meeting his gaze and mouthing a silent “good job.” He just smirks, busies himself with unloading the groceries. For a fleeting moment, the three of you fill the small kitchen in quiet coordination—hands passing off produce, storing items in the pantry, the rustle of plastic bags and shuffle of feet the only sounds.

Eventually, Laura heads back to the couch, flipping open her textbook once more. You and Logan exchange a small, knowing look. No big conversation necessary—just an unspoken acknowledgment that this is how life is now: mostly ordinary, sometimes chaotic, but it works.

---

The storm rolls in fast, the Florida heat giving way to thick clouds and distant thunder. The air is dense with the smell of rain, the first few drops tapping against the windows as you toss a towel over the back of a chair.

“You get the towels inside?” you ask, glancing at Logan, who’s standing near the back door, watching the sky darken.

He grunts. “Got most of ‘em before the wind picked up. One got away.”

You arch a brow. “Got away?”

“Flew into the ocean.”

You huff a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “So much for that one.”

Outside, the wind picks up, bending the palm trees as the rain comes in steady now, streaking against the glass. Logan watches it for a moment longer before turning back to you. “Laura still at her friend’s?”

You nod, checking your phone. “She texted a little while ago. Said she’ll head back once the rain dies down.”

Logan doesn’t say anything, but you can tell he’s already debating whether or not to go pick her up himself. You shoot him a look before he can suggest it. “She’s fine.”

Logan rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue. Instead, he moves toward the fridge, pulling out a beer. “You eaten yet?”

You smirk. “That your way of asking if I’m making dinner?”

He cracks the bottle open, leaning against the counter. “Just curious.”

You shake your head, pulling open a cabinet. “We got leftovers from last night, or you can figure it out yourself.”

Logan takes a swig, watching you for a beat. “You really gonna make me fend for myself?”

“You’re a grown man, Logan.” You grab a bag of chips, plopping onto the couch. “Figure it out.”

Logan makes a low noise in his throat—something between a scoff and a chuckle—but he doesn’t move right away. He just watches you, something unreadable in his expression. You pretend not to notice, flicking on the TV, scrolling through the channels.

The storm grows louder outside, wind rattling against the house. Logan finally moves, taking his beer with him as he drops onto the couch beside you. The cushions dip under his weight, the space between you smaller than it was a moment ago.

For a while, neither of you speak. The TV flickers with whatever show you landed on, voices blending with the steady hum of rain. It’s comfortable, easy—until you realize Logan isn’t really watching.

You glance at him. “You good?”

Logan exhales through his nose, gaze still on the screen but unfocused. “Yeah.”

You tilt your head slightly. “Liar.”

He smirks, finally looking at you. “You always call me out on my shit?”

“Only when it’s obvious.”

His smirk lingers for half a second before fading. He takes another drink, resting the bottle against his thigh. “Just been thinkin’.”

You hum, reaching for another chip. “That’s dangerous.”

Logan snorts, shaking his head. “Smartass.”

You grin, but the amusement doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Because you know whatever’s on his mind, it’s not light. Not casual. Logan doesn’t bring things up unless they’re already weighing him down.

You shift, turning to face him properly. “What’s up?”

Logan runs a hand through his hair, exhaling. “This—” He gestures vaguely between the two of you. “It’s been… good.”

You blink, caught off guard. “Okay…”

His jaw tightens slightly, like he’s choosing his words carefully. “I ain’t used to it.”

You hesitate, fingers curling slightly against your leg. “Used to what?”

Logan glances at you, then looks away. “Not havin’ to fight.”

The words sit heavy between you. The wind howls outside, the rain beating against the roof in steady waves.

You let out a slow breath. “Yeah. Me neither.”

Logan’s fingers flex around his beer bottle. “Feels like any second now, it’s gonna get ripped out from under us.”

You study him, your stomach twisting at the quiet honesty in his voice. Logan isn’t afraid of a fight. But this? The lack of a fight? That’s unfamiliar territory.

You lean back against the couch, staring at the ceiling. “If it does, we’ll deal with it.”

Logan huffs. “That easy, huh?”

“No,” you admit. “But I’m too tired to do anything else.”

He’s quiet for a beat, then, voice lower—“Tired of me?”

Your chest tightens. You turn your head, meeting his gaze. There’s no teasing in it, no smirk. Just something raw, something cautious. Like he’s bracing himself for whatever you’ll say next.

You shift closer without thinking. “No, Logan,” you say softly. “Not you.”

His eyes flicker—something unreadable passing through them. His hand twitches slightly, like he’s debating reaching for you but stops himself.

You study him for a second longer before deciding you’re done waiting.

You grab his collar and pull him into a kiss.

It’s not soft. Not hesitant. It’s rough, heated—like you’re trying to prove a point neither of you have the words for. Logan exhales sharply through his nose, startled but not resisting. His fingers find your waist, grip firm, steady.

You tilt your head, deepening it, nails curling against his shirt. Logan makes a low noise in his throat—a sound you feel more than hear.

The beer bottle hits the floor with a dull thud, forgotten.

He pulls you onto his lap, hands splayed against your back. The kiss turns almost desperate, years of tension unraveling all at once.

You break away just enough to catch your breath, forehead resting against his. His breathing is uneven, his grip still firm like he’s afraid you’ll pull away completely.

“Thought you were tired,” he mutters, voice rough.

You smirk, brushing your thumb over his jaw. “Of everything but this.”

His fingers flex against your waist. “You sure?”

You tilt his chin up slightly, making sure he’s looking at you when you answer. “Yeah, Logan. I’m sure.”

Something shifts in his expression—something quiet, something settled.

Then he kisses you again, and this time, neither of you hold back.

---

The storm had passed by the time you stirred awake, the humid Florida air creeping in through the open window, mixing with the scent of salt and something undeniably Logan.

You weren’t the type to linger in bed—never had been—but this morning was different. You could feel the warmth of him beside you, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the weight of his arm draped loosely around your waist.

Your muscles ached—not in a bad way, but in the kind of way that made you very aware of what had happened last night.

You exhaled slowly, staring at the ceiling.

No regrets.

But a whole lot of what now?

You shifted slightly, and Logan’s grip tightened just enough to keep you from moving too far. “Where d’you think you’re goin’?”

His voice was thick with sleep, rougher than usual.

You smirked. “Didn’t think you were awake.”

Logan huffed against your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin. “Been awake. Just didn’t wanna move.”

You turned your head slightly, catching the lazy half-smirk tugging at his lips. “Didn’t peg you for the cuddling type.”

Logan grunted. “Ain’t cuddlin’. Just keepin’ you in place.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t try to move again. “Right.”

The room fell into a comfortable silence, the only sound the distant crash of waves outside. Logan’s fingers traced absentminded patterns against your hip, his other arm still tucked beneath his head.

For a moment, it almost felt normal. Like you hadn’t spent months trying to ignore the inevitable.

Then Logan spoke.

“Not gonna lie,” he muttered. “Didn’t think this would happen.”

You arched a brow. “You doubting your own charm?”

He smirked, but there was something quieter beneath it. “Just figured you’d keep runnin’ circles around me first.”

You exhaled through your nose, dragging a hand down your face. “Jesus. I should’ve just left in the middle of the night and really kept you on your toes.”

Logan’s grip tightened slightly. “You wouldn’t.”

You didn’t answer right away. Because he was right.

Logan let out a slow breath, his thumb brushing against your side. “So what now?”

You thought about it. About the last few months, about the way you and Laura had built something here. About the way Logan had been circling your life since the moment he showed up, waiting, watching, never pushing—until last night.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

Logan was quiet for a second, then, “good.”

You smirked. “That easy, huh?”

He huffed. “For once.”

The weight between you didn’t feel as heavy anymore. You weren’t thinking about the past, about the other Logans, about the lives you’d lost before. For once, you weren’t overthinking.

You glanced down at your left hand, the ring still on your finger. You twisted it around, feeling the weight of it—the warmth that had long since faded, but never really left.

Logan didn’t say anything. Didn’t move. Just watched, his jaw tight, his fingers flexing slightly against your hip like he wasn’t sure if he should reach for you or give you space.

You exhaled slowly. Then, before you could talk yourself out of it, you pulled the ring off.

The absence of it was immediate. Like a phantom limb, like something missing that had been part of you for longer than you could remember.

You held it between your fingers, staring at the small, worn band. The gold was a little dull, edges softened from years of wear, of fights, of moments that felt so distant now you weren’t sure if they were even real.

Logan stayed silent, watching.

You swallowed hard, bringing the ring up to your lips, pressing a kiss to the cool metal. A quiet farewell. A promise that none of it had been lost, that it still mattered.

Then, carefully, you set it down on the nightstand.

Logan exhaled through his nose, shifting slightly beside you. “You sure?”

You looked at him. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes—God, his eyes. Like he was bracing himself, waiting for you to regret it, waiting for you to pick it back up, waiting for you to tell him this was a mistake.

But it wasn’t.

You reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. His palm was rough, familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

“I’m sure,” you murmured.

Logan studied you for a long moment, like he was trying to decide if you meant it. Then, after a beat, his shoulders relaxed, just slightly. He turned his hand, squeezing yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

Neither of you said anything after that.

Because for the first time in years, there was nothing left to say.

so i don't know if people caught it, but i thought i would just say it-the whole arc of logan was the fact that he always left his version of reader but this time he stayed. which is the reason he stayed in florida even when reader didn't want him there. i don't know if i made it obvious or not but i thought i would just put it out there

anyways, i hope this lived up to people's expectations :)

[sayyestoheav3nn]

Nights Like This Short: Three Little Words

Roman x black!oc 

Warnings: fluff, suggestive content 

Word count: 1.2k

a/n: going to start working on part six of ‘nights like this’ tonight. but in the meantime, i lowkey had the urge to write a little fluff lol. why do i feel like y’all are lowkey going to hate this man even more now lmaoo 🙃 click here to be added to my tag list 🤍

Roman’s backyard was filled with his family’s laughter and chatter. There was no denying that he enjoyed when they came to visit, however, there was just so fucking many of them it didn’t take much to become a slightly overstimulating event. 

He took a deep breath, letting the warm sun along with the calm ocean breeze relax him. 

As his family mingled, he couldn’t help but to grin at the sight of his two five year old nieces latched on to Zoe as if they’d known her a lifetime. Since the moment she introduced herself to them, the tiny gremlins hadn't left her side. 

Roman’s mom seemingly came out of nowhere and stood beside him, she smiled as her gaze shifted to the scene her son’s eyes were very much glued to.  

Her heart beamed as she watched Zoe play tag with her granddaughters, “She’s a lovely girl, Roman. I’m looking forward to seeing your own little ones running around here one day…” she teased. 

Roman smiled to himself, staying quiet as he took a sip of his beer. Truth be told, it had been a subject in the back of his mind for a while now. There were so many nights he’d lay awake thinking about their future, while Zoe peacefully slept on his chest.

For years one of his biggest fears was getting one of his fuck buddies pregnant. 

This was the reason his rotation consisted mainly of women on the WWE roster, they made it clear the last thing they wanted was to get knocked up at the height of their careers. Which worked out for him perfectly, because the thought of having a kid with someone he felt absolutely nothing for, scared him shitless.

That was until Zoe came into his life.

From the moment he laid eyes on her, he knew she was different. And in getting to know her, seeing her for who she really was, Roman knew there was absolutely nothing in this world he wanted to experience without her.

Roman’s mom studied him, because as good as he thinks he is when it comes to hiding his emotions, she easily sees right through him. “You love her, don’t you son?”

He’d never been more sure of anything in his fucking life, “With all my heart.”

“Then what’s stopping you from telling her?”

Roman looked down, his gaze focused on the grass. “I just…just don’t want her to think it’s too soon.” 

“Sweetie, look at her.” His focus was now redirected back to Zoe, her beautiful smile radiating as she was immersed in a conversation with Naomi, and his sister Mariana. 

“Zoe has been surrounded by so many unfamiliar faces in the span of a day, I’m sure that must be an overwhelming experience for her. Yet, she’s selfless, giving each and every one of us a glimpse of who she is, while still wanting to learn more about our culture and who you are.”

“If that’s not love…I don’t know what is,” she continued.

Roman stayed silent, while giving his mom a hug. He started making his way towards Zoe, but unfortunately didn’t make it very far, due to Jey and Jimmy stopping him to help make a damn bonfire.

They spent over twenty minutes setting it up, the task was slightly more difficult considering it was brand new and Roman had never used it before.

Once he was finally left to himself he made his way back in the house after noticing Zoe was no longer outdoors. Mariana couldn’t help but to laugh seeing her brothers eyes dart around the room trying to find her.

“Look at ‘Mr no strings attached’, finally introducing us to a girl. I honestly never thought I’d see the day.”

Roman rolled his eyes, “Shut up. Where is she?”

“She’s in the office,” Mariana walked in front of him, blocking his path. “I know you aren’t used to actually being emotionally connected with someone, but please don’t fuck this up Ro. Women like her, can’t be replaced,” she muttered.

“I know,” he sighed. Although his sister tends to annoy the hell out of him, he knows she means well. Her words lingered on his mind for a moment, Zoe's past experience with her ex was something he was always mindful of. Hearing what he put her through, was something he never wanted her to go through again.

She stepped aside as he headed for the office. Roman reached for the door, and carefully twisted the doorknob, “Hey, was wondering where you were.”

Zoe looked back at him, a smile tugged the corner of her lips. “Sorry, I wanted to make the girls a cute little bow for their hair.”

“Damn, they already got you wrapped around their little fingers huh,” he smiled.

“Something like that,” she chuckled.

There was a small sense of nervousness gnawing at him, deep down he wondered if telling her would scare her off. He knew this was a big step, and wholeheartedly understood the weight that comes with those three words. 

But there was absolutely no denying what he feels for her, she means absolutely everything to him. And whether she feels the same or not, he needs her to know.

Roman walked behind her as she stood cutting small pieces of fabric. He wrapped his arms tightly around her waist pulling her closely to his chest, his head made his way into the crook of her neck, “I love you, Zoe.”

She paused slowly turning around to face him, tears brimmed in her eyes as she used both her hands to grab his face. There was a brief period of silence, as she looked into his eyes.

“I love you too baby.”

Roman smiled before pressing his lips into hers, Zoe stood on her tiptoes, attempting to slide her arms around his neck. He chuckled and picked her up, hoisting her on his waist. 

Their kiss deepened as Roman slowly began to inch up her dress.

“Roman not now.. your family is here,” she giggled.

“So what?” He sat her down on the table and slid his hands to the warm spot between her legs. Zoe’s mouth instantly parted as Roman’s fingers worked past the fabric of her underwear, teasing her already slick folds. “Let them entertain themselves for a bit, while daddy takes care of you.”

“Fuck...” Roman’s dick was rock hard as he watched her slide down her underwear and slowly spread her legs apart. Roman licked his lips, his mouth practically salivating at just the thought of tasting her sweet pussy. Just as he was about to get in position to feast on the woman he loved, a loud ass knock on the door interrupted them.

“One second,” Zoe scrambled to get off the desk and fix her dress, she was relieved Roman made the choice of locking the door.

“It’s Mariana, sorry the girls wanted me to ask if you wanted to join us for a swim?”

“Of course! I’ll meet you guys in a minute.”

Zoe turned to Roman as she slid her underwear back on. “You coming?”

His jaw clenched as he sighed, “I need a minute.” Zoe glanced down immediately understanding why. Roman’s huge bulge was damn near bursting at the seams.

“Shit, I’m sorry baby,” she kissed his cheek and discreetly stepped out of the room.

There was no doubt they were going to make up for it. 

All fucking night, that was for damn sure.

[cheeseatlantic]

hi guys im not dead everyone cheer heres some skull fucking. nghhhhh

DEEP DEVOTION

Simon had always been a man of few words, but when he wanted something, he took it. And tonight, he wanted you.

Your back was pressed against the mattress, arms pinned above your head with a single hand as Ghost loomed over you, his mask still covering his face, eyes burning with raw, unfiltered hunger. He didn’t need to say it—he needed control, needed to remind you exactly who you belonged to.

“You trust me, yeah?” His voice was gravel, roughened by desire, by the weight of a man who had spent his life in the dark.

You nodded, already breathless, already anticipating the bruises he’d leave behind.

A smirk ghosted over his lips before he shifted, knees pressing against the mattress as he adjusted his grip. His cock, heavy and flushed, tapped against your lips once—twice—before he growled, “Open.”

You did. Because disobeying him was never an option.

The first thrust was slow, teasing, but that didn’t last. Ghost was a man who lost patience quickly, and tonight, he wasn’t playing games. He pressed in deep, his thick length stretching your lips wide, his hand cupping the side of your face as he watched himself disappear down your throat.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he groaned, thumb brushing over your cheek, feeling the way he filled you. His other hand gripped your hair, pulling just enough to send a dull ache through your scalp. “You take me so well, love.”

Your throat flexed around him, and his fingers twitched, the grip on your hair tightening as his control wavered. His hips rolled forward, slow but forceful, pushing himself deeper, until your nose brushed the fabric of his balaclava. He groaned, the sound guttural, filled with a hunger so dark and desperate it made your thighs clench.

“That’s it, doll,” he murmured, voice dangerously soft. “You love bein’ used like this, don’t you?”

Tears pricked your eyes as he set a brutal rhythm, his cock bullying its way into your throat, raw dominance radiating off of him with each thrust. You could barely think, barely breathe, but you wouldn’t stop him even if you could.

Ghost was relentless, his moans growing rougher, filthier, his grip bruising as he chased his high. His free hand wrapped around your throat, fingers flexing just enough to make your head spin, to remind you that he was in control.

“You’re mine,” he growled, voice low, dangerous. “Say it.”

You tried—tried to form the words around the way he filled you, tried to tell him that you belonged to him, that you wanted this, wanted him. But all that came out was a garbled moan, and that was enough.

His hips stuttered, his cock pulsing as he buried himself as deep as he could, spilling hot and thick down your throat. He groaned your name, a low, filthy sound as his grip tightened one last time before loosening, thumb brushing against your jaw, almost gentle.

He pulled back, his cock slipping free with a sinful pop, and he watched as you gasped for breath, lips swollen, eyes glassy.

“Good girl,” he murmured, fingers tilting your chin up so you’d look at him. His dark eyes flickered with something possessive, something dangerous. “Knew you’d take it like a good fuckin’ slut. Only for me, hm?”

And despite the ache in your throat, despite the way your lungs burned, you couldn’t help but smile.

Because you loved it when he got like this.

ok wow u whore i see u read the whole thing?? 🤬 its ok i was giggling and kicking my feet writing this. ur real for reading it all.

[luvst4rc0r3]

HII so idk what's going on with the whole pregnant reader thing but I feel like u stabbed me bcz why u gotta make it so sad😭 but I thought about the idea that after reader's miscarriage and Jinx takes in Isha, she gets a taste of what it's like to be a mom and it gives her the hope to try again. But then after Isha dies, everything all goes to shit again (events of act 3 play out), but then after Jinx gets out of jail and teams up with Ekko, she goes to reader and says something like "once this is all over, we're getting out of here." And they move to bildgewater together and have an actual child there in a more healthy and happy space :)) maybe for a time skip part but idk lol, anyway just thought I'd leave this here!! Live laugh love Jinx

request: Your “I don’t wanna be here anymore.”

It was super interesting.

And also made me cry😭😭

Can you write a happy ending for it?

TY if you do

request:I'm gonna need a good ending where Jinx and r have the baby and live happily ever after because that last ask fucked me up😭😭😭😭

"But good things don’t always last forever"

Jinx x F!Reader

WARNINGS: DEATH, MENTIONS OF MISCARRIAGE!! WC: 3165

NOTE: erm I hope yall are ok now.

Summary: After a heartbreaking miscarriage, you fall into despair, but Jinx—determined to bring light back into your life—unexpectedly finds a little girl named Isha, who needs a family just as much as you both do.

PT.1

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

The hideout was quiet. Too quiet.

Jinx hated it.

She sat on the edge of the bed, bouncing her leg as she watched you, curled up with your back to her, shoulders trembling under the blanket. You’d barely moved in hours. Days. It felt like weeks.

Jinx wasn’t great with words, but she knew that whatever she said wouldn’t make it better. The grief sat heavy between you, thick and suffocating. She wanted to tear it apart, blow it up, do something—but this wasn’t something she could fix with bombs or bullets.

So, she stayed. As much as she wanted to run from feelings, from pain, she stayed.

She reached out, brushing her fingers over your arm.

“Hey, toots…” Her voice was softer than usual. Hesitant. “Y’wanna get outta here? Just for a bit?”

You didn’t answer. Didn’t even stir.

Jinx sighed. She pressed a quick kiss to your shoulder before getting up.

“I’ll be back,” she muttered.

You didn’t respond.

Jinx wandered the streets of Zaun, hands stuffed in her pockets, trying to ignore the ache in her chest. She hated seeing you like that. Hated knowing there was nothing she could do to take away your pain.

She needed to find something. Something that could help.

It had been weeks since everything fell apart—since the baby was gone. Since your heart had shattered into something unrecognizable. You barely left the bed, barely ate, barely breathed.

Jinx never said it, but you knew it scared her.

She’d always been the reckless one, the impulsive one, the wild one. But now, you were the one slipping away.

And Jinx? She didn’t know how to stop it.

So, she did what she always did when the world felt like too much. She ran.

Jinx wasn’t looking for a kid.

She was looking for a fight, for trouble—something, anything to pull her out of her head. Out of you and the way you wouldn’t even look at her anymore.

But what she found was a girl.

Small. Filthy. Silent.

Fell on top of her while some guys chased her.

Once Jinx shot off the guys she crouched in front of her, frowning.

“Hey, shorty. What’s your deal?”

No answer.

The girl just stared.

Jinx clicked her tongue. “Oh, great. You’re broken too.”

Still nothing.

Jinx was about to leave—she wasn’t in the business of picking up strays—but then she saw it.

A fresh bruise, deep and purple, blooming along the girl’s cheek.

Jinx’s stomach twisted.

“…Shit.”

She wasn’t good at this stuff. She wasn’t you. But you… you would’ve stopped. You would’ve helped.

And maybe, just maybe, if she brought this kid home, you’d look at her again.

Jinx sighed, rubbing the back of her neck.

“follow me or not. I don’t care”

She followed.

She studied the kid. Dirty, scared, alone. Just like she used to be.

Maybe… maybe this was it. The something she’d been looking for.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

You didn’t know what to think when Jinx came home with her.

You sat up in bed, blinking blearily as Jinx strolled in, dragging a small, silent child behind her.

“Babe, meet Isha. Isha, meet Babe.” Jinx grinned like this was normal. Like she hadn’t just brought home a whole person.

You just stared.

“…What?”

Jinx flopped onto the bed beside you, throwing an arm over your waist.

“She fell on me. Didn’t say a word. Figured, y’know, she could use some better company. We could use some better company.”

You looked at the child.

She was thin. Too thin. Her hands were curled into tight little fists, her lips pressed together in an unreadable line. She looked… wary. Not scared, not trusting. Just waiting.

For what, you weren’t sure.

But you knew that feeling.

Jinx sighed against your shoulder. “You’re not mad, are ya?”

You swallowed. No. You weren’t mad.

You were just… tired.

But when you looked at Isha—really looked at her—something deep inside you cracked.

Maybe it was the way she wouldn’t meet your eyes. Maybe it was the way she stood, stiff and defensive, like she expected you to tell her to leave.

Or maybe it was the way, despite all of it, she still stayed.

“…She can stay,” you murmured.

Jinx made a triumphant noise.

Isha didn’t react.

But when you got up and grabbed a blanket, draping it over her tiny shoulders, she didn’t flinch away.

That was enough.

For now.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

The first few days were quiet.

Isha barely made a sound. You barely spoke. Jinx bounced between watching you both like a hawk and blowing things up in the dead of night, like movement could stop her from thinking too hard.

But, slowly, something shifted.

It started small.

You’d wake up in the morning, roll over, and instead of being met with an empty bed, you’d find Isha sitting on the floor, drawing.

She wasn’t great at it—her little hands were too shaky, the colors smeared—but it was something.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you wanted to do something, too.

So, one day, you sat beside her.

She tensed—always waiting for rejection—but when you picked up a crayon and started drawing next to her, she hesitated. Then, slowly, she handed you a blue one.

That was the first good day.

Jinx practically vibrated with excitement when she saw the two of you, sprawled out on the floor, doodling nonsense.

“Holy shit, progress!” she cheered, flopping onto your back. “Babe, you’re alive again!”

You snorted, nudging her playfully.

“This is a miracle!” Jinx gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. “Someone get me a camera—this belongs in the history books!”

Isha watched Jinx’s antics with wide eyes, and when you turned to her, you swore you saw something flicker on her face.

Something close to a smile.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

You couldn’t sleep much anymore.

ever since everything.

And tonight? Tonight was bad.

She woke up to the sound of you breathing too fast, fingers twitching in your sleep.

She didn’t hesitate.

Sliding closer, she brushed your fingers through your hair, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

“Babydoll,” she murmured. “Wake up, love.”

you gasped awake, eyes darting wildly until they landed on her.

She didn’t say anything. Just held you.

Your arms wrapped around you tight—desperate, grounding—and for a while, you both  just stayed like that.

Then, small movement.

You looked up.

Isha stood in the doorway, blanket clutched in her hands, staring with wide, uncertain eyes.

Jinx let out a breath, forcing a smirk. “Hey, shortstack. Couldn’t sleep either, huh?”

Isha hesitated, then shook her head.

You lifted the blanket, silently inviting her in.

For a moment, she stayed frozen. Then, carefully, she climbed onto the bed, curling up between you both.

Jinx snorted. “Well, well. Looks like we’re officially outnumbered.”

You chuckled, pressing a kiss to Isha’s hair.

And for the first time in forever, you slept through the night, peacefully.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

It started with a rainy day.

Zaun’s skies were always grim, but today, the rain came in heavy, flooding the alleyways and making the apartment feel even smaller.

Isha sat by the window, watching raindrops race down the glass. Her little fingers traced them, following each droplet with quiet concentration.

Jinx groaned dramatically, sprawled upside down on the couch, legs hanging over the backrest. “I’m bored.”

You smirked, looking up from your book. “And whose fault is that?”

“Yours,” she shot back immediately, flipping onto her stomach. “Entertain me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Not my job.”

Jinx gasped, hand over her heart. “Wow. Rude.” Then, she perked up, eyes gleaming. “Wait. I got it.”

She jumped to her feet, startling Isha, who turned and blinked.

“Pillow fort.” Jinx grinned, pointing dramatically at you. “Right now.”

You raised a brow. “Aren’t we a little old for—”

Jinx was already tearing cushions off the couch.

Isha watched her with wide, curious eyes.

Jinx caught her staring and grinned. “Whaddya think, shortstack? Wanna help?”

Isha hesitated. Then, slowly, she nodded.

Jinx let out a victorious whoop! and tossed a blanket over her head. “Welcome to the chaos, kid!”

You couldn’t help but smile.

Within half an hour, the living room was transformed.

Blankets draped over chairs, cushions stacked like castle walls, fairy lights strung across the ceiling. It was warm, cozy, perfect.

Isha crawled inside, eyes wide as she ran her hands over the soft fabric.

Jinx flopped down beside her, arms behind her head. “Not bad, huh?”

You sat across from them, watching as Isha slowly, carefully, curled up between you both.

For the first time all day, she relaxed.

Jinx smirked, nudging you playfully. “See? Told you it was a good idea.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Alright, fine. You win.”

Jinx puffed out her chest. “Damn right I do.”

Isha watched your banter, something soft in her expression. Then—carefully, hesitantly—she reached out and took your hand.

Your breath caught.

She turned to Jinx, then did the same.

Jinx’s eyes widened.

Neither of you spoke.

You just squeezed her tiny hands, warmth blooming in your chest as the rain pattered softly outside.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

It started with Jinx.

Because of course it did.

She thought it would be hilarious to put blue dye in your shampoo.

You stepped out of the bathroom, dripping wet, staring at her with murderous intent.

Jinx, sprawled on the couch with Isha in her lap, burst into laughter.

“Oh—oh my god—babe, you look—” She was wheezing, wiping tears from her eyes. “I—I’m sorry, I can’t—”

Isha, sitting innocently beside her, covered her mouth, eyes shining with amusement.

You crossed your arms. “You think this is funny?”

Jinx gasped for breath. “Babe, c’mon, you’re literally blue!”

Isha let out a small, breathy giggle.

You smirked.

“Alright, Powder,” you said sweetly. “Game on.”

Jinx’s laughter stopped.

“…Wait.”

By the end of the week, it was war.

You switched Jinx’s sugar with salt.

She short-sheeted the bed.

You put hot sauce in her morning coffee.

She filled your boots with glitter.

Isha, watching the chaos unfold, was delighted.

And then—

The prank truce.

Because somehow, somehow, Isha got caught in the middle.

Jinx had set up an elaborate bucket trap for you, but you weren’t the one who walked through the door.

Isha did.

The bucket tipped.

Flour everywhere.

A long, long silence followed.

Jinx paled. “Oh. Shit.”

Isha, completely dusted in white, blinked.

You braced for tears.

But instead—

She grinned.

Then, the softest, most mischievous giggle bubbled out of her.

Jinx gasped. “Babe.”

You were already smirking. “She’s one of us.”

Jinx wiped a fake tear from her eye. “I’m so proud.”

And just like that, Isha became the ultimate prank war champion.

You had created a monster.

And honestly?

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

Your life finally feels complete again.

For weeks you felt alone and scared. 

Scared that you failed Jinx.

You saw Jinx actual feel like she has a purpose again.

But then—

when you both were finally settling in your guy’s new life.

she was gone.

But now—

you guys have Isha

finally feel full again.

but good things don’t always last forever.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

It happened too fast.

One second, you were all together—fighting, running, surviving.

The next—

Isha was holding a gun.

Your breath caught in your throat, legs moving before your brain could catch up.

Jinx screamed.

“Isha!”

Jinx lunged.

She almost made it.

Almost.

Isha’s eyes met yours—And then—

She was gone.

Falling.

Falling.

Falling.

And then—nothing.

Silence.

it wasn’t fair.

Not again.

Not her.

Not your baby.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

Everything burned.

Piltover was drowning in smoke, fire licking at the streets, sirens screaming in the distance. The air was thick with dust and blood, and the world felt like it was cracking apart.

And maybe it was.

Maybe you were.

Jinx stood beside you, gun smoking, eyes wild. Her fingers twitched on Fishbones, but her grip was steady. It always was in a fight.

She turned to you, breath ragged, face smeared with dirt and sweat.

“Once we’re out,” she rasped, voice raw from screaming, “we’ll get the life we always wanted.”

You swallowed, gripping your own weapon, heart pounding against your ribs.

“Jinx—”

“I mean it.” She reached for you, gripping your wrist like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. “No more running. No more fighting. Just us, babe. We’ll leave. Start fresh. We’ll have—”

She choked on the words.

But you knew.

She meant Isha.

She meant family.

She meant the life that was stolen from you both.

Your throat tightened. “Jinx…”

“I swear.” Her eyes burned, desperate, pleading. “Just hold on a little longer. Please.”

You exhaled shakily.

Then—slowly—you nodded.

Jinx let out a breath, pressing her forehead to yours.

For a moment, just one, the war didn’t exist.

It was just you and her.

Like it used to be.

Like it could be again.

If you survived.

If you made it out.

Jinx pulled back, smirking despite the blood on her lip. “C’mon, babe.” She lifted Fishbones. “Let’s finish this.”

And so, you did.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

The war ended in fire.

You made it out.

Barely.

With nothing but your weapons, the clothes on your backs, and the weight of ghosts in your hearts—

you both flew away.

Flew away from the wreckage. From the war. From everything.

And when you stopped running—

You were in Bilgewater.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

The first thing you noticed was the salt.

Bilgewater smelled like the sea—like salt and spice and damp wood. The docks groaned under the weight of ships, traders shouting over each other as people bustled past.

It was chaotic. Loud. Messy.

It was perfect.

Jinx stretched, arms high above her head, letting out a long, satisfied sigh.

“Smells like fish and crime,” she said, grinning. “I love it.”

You snorted. “You would.”

She turned to you, nudging your side. “You sure about this, babe? New place, new start—no more blowing stuff up for fun. You ready for that?”

You exhaled, looking out at the ocean.

The wind was soft here. The sun actually touched your skin instead of hiding behind smog.

You turned back to Jinx, taking her hand in yours.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “I’m ready.”

Jinx’s grin softened.

She squeezed your hand.

“Then let’s go home.”

It wasn’t much.

Just a small shack near the docks—rickety, barely standing, but yours.

Jinx spent weeks fixing it up, scrounging for parts, muttering about “engineering genius” and “making this place badass.”

You just watched her work, heart full for the first time in what felt like forever.

Because she was happy.

You both were.

No more war. No more running.

Just waking up with Jinx tangled around you, her hair messy, her breath warm against your neck.

Just late nights on the rooftop, watching the waves, talking about nothing and everything.

Just peace.

And one day, as Jinx lay beside you, fingers lazily tracing patterns on your arm, she whispered—

“We made it.”

You turned to her, brushing blue strands from her face.

“We did.”

She smiled, soft and real, and for the first time in a long time—

There were no ghosts.

No war.

No grief.

Just you and her.

And the life you always wanted.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

Bilgewater had been home for a couple months now.

The war was a distant memory, just a story told in whispers between you and Jinx when the nights stretched too long and the past felt too close.

Life had settled.

Jinx still tinkered, still got into trouble, still stole things just because she could. But she was happy. She laughed more, slept easier, held you like she was afraid you’d slip away in the night.

And you?

For the first time in your life, you were at peace.

But something was missing.

Something you and Jinx didn’t talk about out loud—not for months, not after what happened.

Then one night, as you both lay tangled on the couch, a storm raging outside, Jinx spoke—soft, hesitant.

“…Do you ever think about it?”

You didn’t have to ask what she meant.

You turned to her, fingers brushing absentmindedly through her blue strands. “Every day.”

Jinx swallowed.

She sat up, looking at you—really looking—and her voice was barely a whisper when she said—

“What if we tried again?”

Your breath caught.

Jinx rushed ahead before you could answer.

“Not—not to replace her,” she stammered. “Never that. Just… I dunno. We had a good thing. A great thing. And I think we could—” She exhaled sharply, eyes darting away. “Forget it. Dumb idea.”

You caught her chin gently, making her meet your gaze.

“It’s not dumb,” you said. “It’s perfect.”

Jinx blinked.

Then—slowly—her lips curled into a small, hopeful grin.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

BONUS!!!!!

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

It took time.

But one day, finally, you held her.

Tiny. Fragile. A weight so light it barely felt real in your arms.

You stared down at the baby, throat tight, heart pounding in a way you hadn’t felt in years.

Jinx hovered beside you, practically vibrating.

“D’you think she’s defective?” she muttered.

You snorted. “Jinx.”

“She hasn’t said anything.”

“She was literally just born.”

Jinx huffed, poking the baby’s cheek. “Still. I expected more personality.”

The baby let out a soft, sleepy sigh.

Jinx melted.

“…Okay, that was kinda cute.”

You shook your head, smiling. Then, quietly, you whispered—

“Isha.”

Jinx froze.

The boat went silent, save for the distant sound of the waves against the docks.

You looked up, meeting Jinx’s eyes.

Her breath hitched.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then—slowly—Jinx exhaled, her lips curling into something small, soft.

She reached out, tracing a gentle finger over the baby’s tiny fist.

“Isha,” she repeated, voice barely above a whisper.

Like it was something sacred.

You nodded, eyes stinging.

“She deserves to be remembered…both kids need to be remembered”

Jinx swallowed, blinking rapidly.

Then, suddenly, she grinned.

“Well,” she said, nudging your shoulder. “Let’s just hope this one doesn’t start a prank war.”

You chuckled, pressing a kiss to Isha’s tiny forehead.

“No promises.”

Jinx smirked.

Then she leaned in, brushing her lips against yours, whispering—

“We made it.”

You smiled.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “We did.”

And as Isha let out a tiny yawn, curling into your chest, the past finally let go.

The war was over.

The ghosts were gone.

And the life you always wanted?

It was here.

It was real.

And it was yours.

I love making angst and fluff stories!! They are so fun to craft!!

I want sleep.

[newkatzkafe2023]

Hey I was thinking how would every wukong in different universe do on Valentine’s Day’s with the reader or Y/N it can be a couple thing or married couple

2 weeks till valentine's day 🥰

(Lmk Wukong) Ah Indoor movie dates their's nothing like them, Wukong and you would wear your most comfortable clothes and cuddle on the couch under a nice warm blanket. You both would get your favorite movies and bucket loads of snacks and just relax and enjoy each other's company after all you both have been married for 500+ years.

(HIB Wukong) It's date night and you both go out to a nice cutesy restaurant together. Can you believe that Wukong would get so nervous about going out with you, despite you both being married for centuries. It's exactly like that every year, but it's sooo adorable with his red nervous face and giving you your favorite flowers. It's like your both still dating and it would always warm your heart.

(MKR Wukong) Valentines Day ewww😒 was what he would always say and think, he would get nauseous at the lovey dovey couples around him. That was until he himself had found a nice monkey girl and when and got married himself, so uhhh that's karma but good karma. You both would cuddle quietly together under the night sky as you and the other couples would watch the shooting stars, Wukong didn't need to make wishes though he already got what he wished for.

(NR Wukong) You both would go out dancing every year on Valentine's Day, and what's different about it.... well, it's one of those slow dances for people who got married. Wukong would always find a way to touch you or make contact, I mean, he loves to be around you all the time. You both have though some crazy sh*t together over the years, and their are times where he's tired and for once had enough but then he remembers you. You unwavering support and endless love and next to Li and Su, one of the last good things in his life He'll genuinely never know what he would do without you. It's what makes him get back up and keep moving, after all he's got you to care very much for He can't leave you behind.

(Netflix Wukong) Hates to admit it, but Valentines Day is his day of reflection and remembrance, especially with you. Wukong had been alone for a Concerningly long time not being accepted by anyone, not even his own kind, Wukong tried his best to fit in somehow until he met Lin and a little bit later you. You have accepted Wukong right away with open arms and an open heart. You treated him so kindly and so gently that he thought you had to be a dream, but as the years go by. he finally realized after meeting, after dating, after marriage up until now, you weren't going anywhere and continued to love him despite his shortcomings and personality. Wukong made a vow to never stop loving you and never forget your unconditional love for him as well.

(BMW Wukong) Ohhhhhhhhh boi he can't keep his claws of you on valentine's day or any day of the year. He took you to see the fireworks, however he got a little to occupied with you, so you snuck to the very back and tongue wrestled to your hearts content. It's safe to say that Wukong was addicted and obsessed with you, and he would absolutely smother you in affection and love. He may be egotistical and mildly problematic, however their will never be a doubt about his sweet love for you.

(Destined one) A nice moment of silence between the two of you, being at home and enjoying some quiet time as well. The Destined one would take this time to observed you thinking about how far you two have come from your hardships and dark days. You both have support for each other as you both would cuddle, purr, and even kiss, you both laying on the bed listening to each others heartbeats and softly breathing. With an occasional kiss on his cheek the Destined one was finally at peace with just you, and only you.

(Lotmk Wukong) With you both privacy is everything it's where you both a free to explore each other and bond as a married couple. Wukong honest words and thoughts about you wil always leave you breathless, especially when he showering you with Compliments as he smothers you next and cheek with sweet kiss and soft whispers. Your sweet shared promises and gentle whispers your both in your on world of heaven, giving you both true peace and love at last.

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG🥰😘

[scorpio1205]

Bambi's Most Liked/Viewed Tik Toks

Summary: A tiktok compilation of Bambi's most viewed tik toks

Warnings: swearing, kissing, flirting, pda, tik tok comments, Matt looking completely in love

1st Tik Tok-

Bambi put the phone down taking a few steps back as American Wedding by frank ocean began to play through her phone speaker. She ran her fingers through her hair as Matt walked up behind her wrapping his arms around her waist pulling her against him completely as she began to lip sync to the song. 'Hijabs and polygamist husbands. Those poor un-American girls. After school she ran to me. Jumped in my 5.0. This is the home of the brave, land of the free. But your parents still didn't know' She grinned as Matt kissed her cheek, turning to face him, pulling him down and kissing him lovingly, as the tik tok ended.

Caption: Date Night with the most perfect man in the world @ mattsturniolo

2nd Tik Tok-

Maneater by Nelly Furtado began 'You wish you never ever met her at all (what you sayin', girl?)' She walked into frame in her Halloween costume, twirling a bit. 'You wish you never ever met her at all (break), yeah. She's a maneater, a maneater (I been around the world, I ain't never meet a girl like this) She's a maneater, a maneater (I been around the world, I ain't never meet a girl like this) She's a maneater, a maneater (I been around the world, I ain't never meet a girl like this) Like this, like this, like this, like this, like this' She walked over to Matt who was in his costume scrunching up her nose and grabbing his jaw.

Caption: Did I pull this off? Kinda?

3rd Tik Tok-

Bambi put her phone down smiling at the camera the triplets sitting at the table behind her. "Okay, so I keep getting comments asking about my tattoos and piercings... So I thought I'd make a video showing them off cause why not?" She smiled sheepishly at the camera pulling off her hoodie leaving her in a white tub top, which seemed to catch Matt's attention immediately as he looked up watching her

She noticed this and giggled but didn't acknowledge him "So first I have this tarot card tattoo with my zodiac sign on it and it's on my forearm" She showed the camera. "Matt took me to get it for my birthday." She smiled at Matt who waved before pulling her hair to the side and turning around "Next I have this moon phase tattoo along my spine, it's read and black and hurt like a bitch" She turned back showing off her tatted shoulder. "And lastly this one is veins, butterflies and fairies... that's the last one for right now. Matt and I are planning on getting a matching one for our 4th anniversary..."

"Yeah we are"

She giggled before gasping "Oh, wait. I have Matt's initials on my side, but that's under my shirt and normally hidden by my bra. Now onto piercings." She pointed to her stomach "Belly button ring, septum ring that I hide most of the time, and I have my nipple's pierced.....But yeah that's it......Bye."

No Caption

4th Tik tok-

Bambi was laying on Matt's bed with Mr. Wrinkleton on her chest and wearing one of Matt's polo's "Sooooo.....Nick, Matt, and Chris went to Film and i'm here obviously... And I'm watching How to Train your dragon and I came to the conclusion that my taste in men has not changed... Like at all. So growing up I had the biggest crush on hiccup from How To Train Your Dragon, and I feel like I'm dating him in real life. Like he wasn't the tallest, he had like messy brown hair, he was sarcastic, like really smart, he had an attitude, he was very dorky, and just all around cute...... Did I just describe my boyfriend or a fictional character? Like that's literally Matt, or am I going crazy.... That's it" She moved the camera out of her face before quickly moving it back "And middle part Matt was 1000% Victor from Corpse Bride"

Caption: He's also kinda Stiles from Teen Wolf

5th Tik Tok-

18 By Anarbor started playing as Bambi walked back grabbing Matt's hand pulling him down her nose brushing his as she lip synced "So if you wanna piss off your parents. Date me to scare them. Show them you're all grown up. If long hair and tattoos are what attract you. Baby then you're in luck. And I know it's just a phase. You're not in love with me-" But before she could continue Matt grabbed her by the back of her thighs lifting her up and wrapping her legs around his waist with a grin on his face.

Her hands immediately moved to the sides of his face, a new ring on display (that would catch a lot of attention by fans) "You wanna piss off your parents, baby. Piss off your parents. That's alright with me"

Caption: I was trying to be cute and he stole my thunder

6th and Final Tik Tok

Slim Pickens By Sabrina Carpenter began to play "Guess I'll end this life alone. I am not dramatic, these are just the thoughts that pass right through me. All the douchebags in my phone. Play 'em like a slot machine, if they're winnin', I'm just losing" Bambi walked stood next to Matt as the song continued he picked her up effortlessly and placed her on his shoulder. "A boy who's jacked and kind" Both of them looked surprised and really happy.

Caption: I have the one I love and he still doesn't know the difference between there, their and they're.....

Comments:

User322: Okay but that 5th one just came out and I still NEED to know if that's an engagement ring

User777: Bambi having Matt's initials tattoo'd on her is wild

User111: Parents

Dividers by @bernardsbendystraws

@sturnmeovr @big-poppa23 @colorthecosmos444 @sturns-mermaid @mattsstarlet @iammattswife @carringtonsgirl

[angellekookie]

IN THE NAME OF LOVE & OTHER THINGS | MYG - Royalty AU [oneshot]

Summary: In which you really tried not to fall for him, but some things are inevitable, and you're ready to give u everything to be with him.

Genre: Romance (and maybe a little agnst? bro idk this was an accident

WC: 1.6 K

Warnings: None that I can think of, if I'm being honest.

Pairings: Min Yoongi x F! Reader

Note: Yall this drabble was naawt supposed to happen but since it did, let's call it either a prelude or a spoiler for another project I have in the works. It has not been beta read or checked for errors any at all. Anyway, hope you enjoy reading it nontheless, it was a fun distraction ^^

Dividers by @thecutestgrotto & @strangergraphics

You two were never to meet. Afterall, you were both from two different worlds that only ever intertwined in the shadows. You lived in ballgowns and politics, delicate hands never even having to feed yourself if you lack any such desire on a given day. He lived in stone and clay and plaster, calloused hands rumoured to be tinged with gold or magic because of how he could bring any material to life. 

You were the daughter of a Duke, and while he was indeed a prodigy, the most sought after artist in all the four kingdoms, that didn’t mean the public would take too kindly to a relationship or marriage between you. It would never work.

It’s what you’ve been trying to come up with a way to tell him that whatever it was between you two had to end. There was no future for it, nothing to look forward to.

So why did you fall in love with him? Just when did you manage to fall for the Hands of Midas himself?

You wondered if it was between the silences you’ve shared, as he was a man of few words. Or maybe it was the dedication and focus he had when he was working. Perhaps, one too many instances of you watching him work on the sculptures your father commissioned for the parlour. Nights where you hoped, prayed, wished and even went as far as risking your dignity to beg and plead with the skies if they could make you marble or clay or anything just once. How his hands moved creating lines and shadows, bringing new life to every area he touched - it made you wonder if he could bring a new life to you too. 

You heard him laugh exactly once, but you vividly remember every smile and you secretly wished they were all for you.

If only you knew that Min Yoongi had saved every smile for you. 

He never wanted to be sponsored by the Duke. He didn’t want anything to do with any of the nobles. He’d wanted to stay home, with his family. All he knew for his entire life was art. His mother’s singing, his father’s painting and his own love for sculpting. He was always quiet, observing the world around him and seeing every flaw. But Yoongi thought they were beautiful, so he used his hands to create the world that he sees, the one he loves. He didn’t need anything else. But going to stay with a wealthy family would be good for his own family. He’d get a great education, a place to stay and of course, he could sculpt whenever his heart desired- that’s what his mother told him as she sent him off on the carriage when he was younger.

Of course he missed his mother, cried for the first and last time the day he left. He was sure nothing could ever make leaving home worth it, wanted to curse the Duke and everything he stood for ripping him away from his recently widowed mother. Oh how that quickly changed when a girl with the kindest eyes and the biggest and brightest eyes ran out just as he was getting out of the carriage at the duchy. He noticed the dirt on her cheeks, how she seemed unbothered; happy. How she dragged along who he would correctly assume was a younger sibling- though she expressed more discomfort at whatever she was unwillingly being volunteered into. 

Being sponsored by the Duke had its perks, though. Yoongi would get to spend his days learning whatever they thought he needed academically, and as soon as that was done he’d get to bask in the glow of his art and his loyal audience of exactly one. Just as he would trace the lines on his current project, you would be tracing him. Of course, he couldn’t help the smiles he desperately tried to suppress whenever you were around. That was the only thing that could happen between you two, he knew that. You and him could never happen, surely such a pairing would be doomed from the start. He could only ever dare to reach out to you in his most wretched dreams. That was as far as he would go.

That was how far he thought he would have gone until that day between the marble and the roses things went just a bit too far. Spilled wine, whispered confessions and shared desire broke years of silence and tension. Suddenly, the spectator was the centre of attention. Though Yoongi didn't miss the opportunity that you had always been the star in his eyes. A star he never thought he’d ever get to hold in his hands, despite the risk of being burnt.

The risk was great. He knew it and so did you. 

And yet you would find yourself wrapped up in Yoongi always, somehow. You loved him, you were sure. So what if the risk was drowning? Whatever great thing that you were born to accomplish in this life couldn’t compare to loving him, being loved by him. 

Your mother, ever the noble lady she tried to raise you to be, asked you if you were sure that this was what you wanted to do. Left without a word to speak to your father, you presumed. You knew what it would come down to at the end of the day, knew that surely you couldn’t have your cake and eat it too. 

Your father was always the kind of man to talk about duty and honour. Never failing to tell you and your sister the importance of the roles you were born in. He’d always encouraged you both that being a leader in any sense of the word, was to be wise both in mind and the heart. You were in his office with your sister when he told you that knowledge was just a blade without the handle of wisdom. You were also in his office whenever he scolded you for something like missing lessons with the governess (again) or whenever he praised you for a beautiful painting you made.

This time, you sat stood before him, too scared, too nervous for the outcome. Hoping the ‘But father, I love him’ you were holding on your tongue would be enough of an explanation for him. Hoping that you didn’t break down and cry and beg and plead for him to let you go. That you really tried not to fall for him, but some things were inevitable. You had so much to say in your defense. All ready to run away should they decide to lock you up in the duchy forever or marry you off to some old widower. You weren’t prepared for when your father took your own hand in his, and looked at you with something that you truly did not have the words to describe. “Are you truly serious about this? Do you love him, ___?”

“With everything,” The tears you planned to use and beg were now threatening to make an appearance for a whole different reason. “I don’t want to have to live a life knowing I gave up the chance to love him.” You sat at his feet like you used to when you were much smaller. “I know you’re disappointed in me and that I’ve let you down but father, I’m-” 

You never got to apologise. Not when your father told you you had nothing to apologise for, that he knows this must have meant a lot to you since you actually wanted to apologise for breaking the rules this time. He hugged you and told you he’d already spoken to Yoongi, that you both shouldn’t just run away, that he’d take care of everything- that he could make sure you were safe one last time. What could you have possibly done, except cry while your father held you for the first time in a long time, for the last time in a long time. 

It’s how you found yourself still crying in the arms of your younger sister. You had come to tell her that you had made your mind up, you came to tell her goodbye.

Evening came, stealing away the daylight, but also bringing the time you were to leave everything familiar and dear to you behind. You were still in your sister’s room, head in her lap as she absentmindedly stroked her fingers through your hair. It was almost as if she was the older one today, but then again- she was always the more composed of the two of you. You were leaving her with a heavy burden, a great responsibility. But you knew that she could handle it much better than you ever would, with much more grace than you could even think to imagine.

“What is love, that you’re so willing to give everything up like this?” You took some time before answering your sister’s question, only to put your thoughts together. 

“Love is something that knocks on your door at odd hours in the night. It warms your cheeks when you're out during the day, it chases you through meadows- it’s an adventure that comes to find you when it knows you're ready to sacrifice everything to chase it. Eventually, you’ll find yourself where love  rests.”

“I’m afraid you’ve left me even more confused than I was three minutes ago…” She looked at you, the sad smile not reaching her eyes.

“One day, you will find love, and find yourself, and find your answer.” That’s what you told her as you embraced her for the last time for a long time.

You yourself often wondered what love was. But in the carriage your father arranged for you the night you left home, in the place you now live with a man you were convinced was born from your dreams, in the letters you exchange with your sister ever so often… You can safely say you found it.

AN: Thanks again for reading everyone, feedback is always appreciated 😘.

Taglist

@livingformintyoongi @moochii-daisies @peoniesnro

[bunbun-mochi]

Safeguarding

High school Caleb x MC, no in a relationship, third POV

Trigger Warning: bullying, so there will be phrases that could be triggering, such as comments of one's look, taking of one's life, etc, and violence. Do not read this if any of those could trigger you.

Word count: 2331, no proofreading

Preview: Old days - MC was being bullied when she was in freshman. Once junior Caleb heard this, he decided to teach those bullies a lesson. *Cue overprotective Caleb*

Note: Guess what I'm supposed to be doing? That's right! Studying! And guess what I'm doing instead? Simping for Caleb and Sylus Procrastinating! Whoo! Anyway, enjoy high school Caleb and MC. I love their cute interactions during their days in high school and college. It's so cute. OMG.

Tagging: @madam8, @gavin3469

MC was excited to start high school because, for two years, she and Caleb had been going to two different schools. When she and Caleb were in middle school, Caleb would always sit with her during lunch, tutor her with classes she was struggling with, and finally, he would always wait for her outside during the last period of class so they could walk home together.

Two years ago, Caleb started high school and things haven't been the same. If she and her friends had an argument, she would sit all by herself during lunch. After school, she ends up walking all by herself to the high school to watch Caleb's practice. However, some things didn't change: Caleb continued to tutor her except it was at home and they would still walk home together, except it was after his practice. Being the most amazing friend she is, she would attend all of Caleb's basketball games.

Once she start high school, she can finally spend more time with Caleb as they did in middle school. That's why MC was excited to go to high school. At least, was.

During middle school, she knows pretty much everyone in the school, since it's located in their town. Everyone knows who she and Caleb are. No one dared to anger Caleb because he once harshly disciplined a kid who tried to make fun of MC. So MC never really experienced bullying from other students.

The high school, however, is located further away, near a city, where other towns would go to the same high school. There are all sorts of people going to the same high school and that includes bullies.

During her first day of high school, Caleb drove them both to the high school. It's her first day being a freshman while it's junior for Caleb. They waved goodbye and started their separate classes.

Except, her first "class" started when a bunch of girls shoved her head in the toilet while laughing and giggling. Many of them commented on how she dressed, even though they were wearing the same uniform. Others commented on her looks.

When lunchtime rolled around, MC felt her excitement bubbling from her chest. She excitedly shoved her books into her bag and started to walk out of class when the same mean girls blocked her path.

"Going somewhere in a hurry?" The "leader" of the girls asked.

"Yes, please step aside," MC answered, trying to walk around them. But every time she did that, they would continue to block her path.

Then another girl walked into the class, all excited. "Omg, omg," She ran toward the mean girls. "You know that hot junior?"

The girls squealed excitedly, "Omg, omg, Caleb?"

"Yes! He's outside this class! He looked like he was waiting for someone!" The girls looked at the "leader" of their group.

The leader quickly adjusted her hair and clothing, "Wait for me for good news, girls!" And with that, she left the classroom.

MC hangs her head while she listens to the conversation outside the classroom.

"Hey!" MC could hear the fake high voice from the leader.

"Hey, pip-" Caleb paused. "Uh-"

"I heard a lot about you, Caleb."

"Uh, great. Where is MC? I'm pretty sure she has this class before lunch."

"She's not here. Want to have lunch with me, instead?"

"If she's not here, where is she?"

"Not sure, but do you want to have-" MC could hear the footsteps shuffling outside the classroom. Then she heard Caleb's voice, loud and clear.

"Pip-squeak!" MC looked up and saw Caleb waving from the doorway, showing his bright smile. "We finally are having lunch together!"

MC could only strain a smile. She was already having the worst day possible but she didn't want to ruin Caleb's day. However, Caleb already could tell she was forcing a smile.

"Did you make new friends? How's high school? How are the classes?" Being Caleb, he already started to throw questions at her. Then he leaned down and patted her head, "What's wrong?" His voice was gentle, so gentle it nearly made MC to break down and tell him what's wrong.

Before MC could answer, the girls quickly interjected, "She got into trouble in class."

"Yea, she couldn't understand simple math."

MC quickly shook her head, "It's not-"

Caleb, however, kept his smile. "Perfect, this is just like middle school. Here, let me help you with math while we eat lunch." He grabbed onto her hand and led her out of the classroom.

Suddenly, one of the girls yelled, "Don't touch her! She has cooties!"

Caleb looked back with a very confused look, "Those things don't exist. I thought you all being in high school already knew that, no?"

The leader once again tries her luck, "You shouldn't go out with her. She drinks from the toilet water."

Caleb looked at the leader then back to MC, "Are you sure these are your new friends? I would suggest to you to ditch them. They don't sound very nice."

The comment immedietly infuriated the girls, "At least we are prettier than this pig."

MC could see Caleb fuming from the comment so she held onto his arm, "Caleb, don't." Knowing full well what he would do.

Caleb took a deep breath as if to calm himself before smiling his signature bright smile. "If I say those girls look like pigs, I would be insulting the pigs. But alright, let's go." He took your hand and led you toward the cafeteria, completely ignoring the girls.

As cliche as it sounds, lunch is truly the best "class subject". MC enjoyed her time with Caleb. It was like they were back in middle school. Talking and laughing, even the silence wasn't awkward.

However, MC's happiness didn't last long. Right after lunch, those mean girls invited their own friends and brothers to join in the bullying. They went as far as throwing her books out the window, scribbling on her notebook, pushing her around, and slamming her on the lockers all the while speaking mean things to her.

"Your looks don't deserve Caleb's attention."

"I'm sure Caleb just took pity on you."

"You're ugly, might as well just end yourself."

MC lay on the floor sobbing while her body was littered with cuts and bruises. "Please leave me alone."

"Aww," One of the boys mocked, "Please leave me alone."

"So pathetic."

Suddenly, something flew across the hallway, striking one of the boys down. MC looked at the object to see a book about plane models lying on the floor.

"I was wondering what would've caused her to be so upset." MC sucked in her breath, immediately knowing who that voice belonged to.

The mean girls immedietly changed their tone and sounded more shy compared to when they were bullying her. "Caleb!"

"Caleb, I didn't know you're here!"

"We're just here to teach her a lesson for dirtying your clothes."

"Yea, that's right. She's very dirty. She drank toilet water-"

"Fuck off." MC widens her eyes. This was the first time she had ever heard Caleb swear. She looked up to see Caleb walking toward her. He took off his sweatshirt and covered her. "Stay here." His tone was much more gentler than when he was talking to her bullies.

One second he was covering MC with his sweatshirt, the next, he punched a boy so hard he was knocked out immediately from contact. The other boys and girls were staring in shock. This boy that Caleb had just knocked out was a senior who was slightly taller than Caleb.

"If you all try to hurt her again," The bullies looked up at Caleb as he tried to contain his anger. "And I'll make sure your parents won't even recognize you once I'm done with you."

The bullies stood there in shock as Caleb carried you to the nurse's office.

"Next time, pip-squeak, you should tell me immediately if anyone is hurting you."

MC leaned into his embrace, "I didn't want to bother you."

"Nothing you do bothers me."

MC sniffled, "Caleb?" Tears already spilling down her cheeks.

"Don't cry while I'm carrying you. I won't be able to wipe your tears."

"Am I ugly?" MC sobbed. "Am I dragging you down?"

"Nonsense, you're always pretty. If we want to talk about who's dragging who down, it's clearly me who's dragging you down."

"Are you saying that to make me feel better? Do you take pity on me?"

Caleb softly chuckled, "Pip-squeak. I've known you since we were kids. Have I ever took pity on you? Pretty sure I was the one who pushed you into the pool."

"I still haven't forgiven you."

"Yea, yea, I know."

As soon as Caleb dropped you off at the nurse's office, an announcement called in, "Caleb, 3rd year, principle's office immediately."

MC grabbed on Caleb's sleeve, "Caleb?" Her eyes watered as tears continued to spill. "Are you in trouble?"

Caleb chuckled and wiped her tears, "Don't worry about me, pip-squeak. I'll be back before you know it."

MC nodded before hesitantly letting go of his sleeves. She lay on the bed while the nurse put band-aid and ice packs on her wounds.

Once Caleb arrived at the office, he was doing some breathing exercises before going to the principal's office. Not because he's nervous, but because he's trying to calm himself down or else he'll end up hurting everyone in the office. He knocked twice before opening the door.

Inside the room sat the principal behind his desk and the senior bully with his parents. The mother was coaxing and soothed this boy as if he were a toddler while the father just sat there with his arms crossed as if he didn't want to be here. Caleb wanted to roll his eyes. No wonder this senior is a bully: his parents look just as bad as he does.

"Caleb," the principal called out. "I'm curious and tell me the truth. Did you actually used violence against a student today?"

The principal asked this because Caleb was one of the best student this school had. He was asked several times to skip grades but he refused several times.

Caleb huffed, "Yes, I did.."

"Good, I thought you actually did- wait, what did you just say?" The principal was dumbstruck because he wasn't expecting such a great student to resort to violence.

"Caleb, let me make myself clear: It is against school policy to use violence, especially to another student."

"Wasn't he the one who used violence against a student first?" Caleb snapped. "I'm sure in your policy, it said bullying is not tolerated."

Once again, the principal was dumbstruck. He was opening his mouth and closing it, unable to argue against Caleb.

"Look at this child!" The mother screeched, "He had no remorse for hurting my baby!"

"Ma'am," The principal quickly tries to calm her down.

Caleb turned toward the mother. She was patting his son's head. He could see the name tag on the left side of her breast. "Ms." He narrowed his eyes slightly. "Tuskan. Your son bullied a friend of mine. It's your son who had no remorse for hurting someone else's child."

"You!" The mother shrieked. She immedietly stood up and stomp her way toward Caleb, pointing her finger at him, but her height was nowhere close to Caleb's. "You're a monster!"

Caleb glared down at her, "I didn't know the company you work for would hire you. Guess they hire anyone nowadays."

"Excuse me? You better be careful what you say. I will get you suspended."

"Is this a threat?"

"Damn right, it is. You better fucking sleep with an eye open, you bastard!"

"Thank you for clarifying," Caleb said sarcastically. "First off, under this school's policy, swear words are prohibited. You had violated that rule."

"You!"

"Second, I have this in a recording. I will be sending this recording to your boss."

The mother's face paled, and she turned toward her husband, asking for support. "Why aren't you backing me up?"

The husband looked annoyed, "What am I supposed to do? Our son just bullied someone and this kid taught him a lesson. Maybe that'll stop him from being an asshole."

The mother whipped her head back to Caleb and gave him the nastiest look. But Caleb just smirked, "Ma'am, here's some advice for you and your son. I advise you to teach your son how to be a decent human being and I advise your son to stop bullying, especially toward my friend. Because the next time I see him near her, he won't come back unscathed." Then Caleb looked at the principal, "I expect you and this school to do a better job upholding the policies. The next time I hear any bullying, I will report this school. Do I make myself clear?"

The principal quickly nodded. Caleb smiled, "Good, think we are done here."

"Wait," the mother stopped him. Caleb slightly winced at her annoying voice. "I need that recording."

Caleb scoffed, "Heh, no. I expect you to do what I asked or else I will be sending this to your boss." He looked over to the father. "and yours too." Sending the last warning, he showed himself out of the principal's office. As he closed the door, the mother and father were having a screaming match in the office.

"Look at what you've done! If I lose this job, I'm divorcing you!"

"What kind of father are you? Why can't you support me and your son?"

Caleb smiled to himself before returning back to MC's side.

Ever since that incident, no one dared to bully MC ever again. Because wherever she is, Caleb is right there behind her. Anyone who dared to hurt her would either return to school with a cast on or never return back to school. This infamous story was even used in the school's anti-bully projects, even after those two had long graduated from high school.

Dividers, headers, banners, and templates used on this post are from @uzmacchiato

[itsfunnybcuzitstrue]

i can't remember whether all of this is in the 2020 edited version of solitaire, but in the og version tori says:

"Last night I watched a film called Garden State. Not all of it, but most of it. [...] It’s about this guy Andrew, and you’re never quite sure whether Andrew’s life is truly depressing or not. It seems like he has no decent friends or family, but then he meets this girl (typically happy- go-lucky, quirky, and beautiful Manic-Pixie-Dream-Girl Natalie Portman, of course) who teaches him how to live properly again. [...] It’s very obvious that Zach Braff (who wrote, directed, acted, and compiled the soundtrack) created this film about himself. Maybe that’s what made it so real to me."

and i can't stop thinking about how much this parallels solitaire.

'it’s about this guy Andrew, and you’re never quite sure whether Andrew’s life is truly depressing or not.' -> tori is an unreliable narrator so we experience everything in heightened and/or sensationalised way

'It seems like he has no decent friends or family, but then he meets this girl (typically happy- go-lucky, quirky, and beautiful Manic-Pixie-Dream-Girl Natalie Portman, of course) who teaches him how to live properly again.' -> in solitaire tori is not on good terms with any of her friends and has a fairly hostile relationship with her parents, then she meets michael who appears to be happy-go-lucky (but he's much more complex)

'It’s very obvious that Zach Braff (who wrote, directed, acted, and compiled the soundtrack) created this film about himself. Maybe that’s what made it so real to me.' -> this could be a stretch, but alice has said multiple times that she chanelled the emotions she felt when writing solitaire into the book, and that she found this to be very cathartic- and it's this reason that so many people love solitaire, seeing tori experiece all this comforts them

whether alice did this intentionally or not she's a genius

[lowkaylove]

Anything Less Than, Everything & More

Pairings: Sylus x MC

Please be kind. This is my first ever fic.

CW: Angst, MC remembers everything, comparing herself to past!MC, hurt/comfort, Sylus’s horns make an appearance, Mephie is the best boy, PTSD, feelings of survivor’s guilt/shame, references to Dragon!Sylus’s death, please let me know if I’m missing any tags (I’m bad at this)

Notes: not beta read-we explode like Josephine. Not really edited as I have never written anything before in my life. I’m not creative, I’m just hyperfixated on fictional men that a girl can only dream of.

Prompt: You remember everything. And Sylus couldn’t be happier. You both could finally move forward and conquer the world like you were always meant to do. The problem is…you realize that you’re not her…and you never will be. She was enough for him to sacrifice his life for. Who the hell are you to deserve that kind of devotion from a man like Sylus? Honestly, who are you to demand anything from him after everything he went through to find her, only to end up with your version of the woman he loved. The one who showed him nothing but undeserved hatred and disgust in the beginning. A fucking rookie hunter with a mediocre evol at best. Someone who was useless to him from the beginning.

Why couldn’t you just be her? Doesn’t Sylus deserve to be happy? Maybe…if you can’t be her…maybe there’s a way to become useful and worthy of a little more of his time, however short it will last.

Prologue

You barely make it to your bed after an exhausting day.

It’s been almost nonstop missions for the last month, one after the other. And when you’re not on a mission, you got a second job at a boutique thanks to a recommendation from Rafayel to the owner. You still need to figure out a way to pay him back for his help.

For now, you’ve just been less of a brat when you work for him and will cater to his every whim so he’ll hire you for more bodyguard work.

Truly, nothing has exhausted you more physically. But it’s nothing compared to the mental toll you’ve suffered since a little over 2 months ago. But you are determined that this will all be worth it in the end.

Sylus is counting on you, and you won’t fail him this time.

2 months ago

It happened all at once.

Sylus had taken you to a field of flowers to watch the sunset. A perfect date as you two grew closer.

After settling down on the hillside, you couldn’t take your eyes off of the beautiful flora that surrounded you. Bold and intimidating red flowers blossomed all around you. The air felt familiar. Sylus felt a little too familiar and yet you swore you’ve never been here before.

After enjoying a small picnic, you stand up to stretch your limbs, gazing out towards the horizon. “It’s really beautiful out here, Sylus. I’ve never seen these flowers before, but the sunset makes the hills looks like they’re covered in rubies.”

“A fitting description, sweetie. The hills are bathed in rubies as far as the eyes can see.” But Sylus’s gaze rests on your silhouette turned away from him, his eyes filled with longing and devotion like no other.

Your heart clenches at his words. A sudden pang sends a tremor through your body. You’ve heard those word before…where have you heard them before?

“Sweetie?” Sylus calls out to you, concerned.

You turn to find him with one leg bent, arm resting on the knee. The other leg is stretched out. He removed his leather jacket and looks comfortable in is burgundy sweater and black denim. His eyes are full of worry though.

Then, images flash before you. Sylus, sitting the exact way he is now, but something is off. This Sylus is different. Black scales adorn his skin. His outfit does little to cover his chest and abdomen, a red gem rests in the middle of his chest.

This Sylus has horns. A tail.

This Sylus isn’t a human.

He is a Dragon.

My dragon is gone.

All of a sudden, an entirely different life floods your vision. You’re there, and so is Sylus. But it’s somewhere you’ve never been. The flowers on the hill shine under the sun. An organ plays beautifully in the distance. A beautiful Dragon carries you across vaguely familiar lands. It’s so beautiful, but all too much at the same time.

Pain sears through your head and you cry out. Your hands move to your temples as you land on your knees. They cover your ears as you moan in pain.

“Kitten!” Sylus rushed to you, he places his hands over yours then trails them down to your elbows and up to your shoulders. “Sweetie, what’s happening?”

It felt as if your head was splitting open. Your eyes were clenched shut but the visions were clear behind your eyelids.

Stayrus? …Can I call you a name that sounds similar? How does Sylus sound?

“Sweetheart, please…look at me…” You faintly hear Sylus’s voice break as if he’s in pain as well.

Sing that song again.

You feel the world spinning as this other Sylus rolls the both of you down a hill of flowers.

Only you and this flower can touch me here…

Your lungs are heavy with exhaustion as you feel your throat tighten. Tears run down your face as you finally look up at Sylus.

“S-Sylus…it hurts…” His eyes widen in panic before checking you over for an injury that isn’t there.

Taurus City can have flowers bloom everywhere…as far as the eye can see…

“You’re okay, sweetie…is it your heart? The Aether core?” Vermillion eyes scan over your face in worry.

But only for one person.

A kiss that never happened. It was all in your head. An illusion the both of you conjured to survive the pain and loss of each other.

You reach up, your shaky hands hovering over Sylus’s head…where his horns should be.

You must press on.

Pain sweeps over your entire body in waves. Your eyes clench shut again. Bile rises in your throat. You know exactly what happens next. You’ve lived this before. You were the one who committed this sin against your beloved.

Sylus won’t stop saying your name, desperate to grab your attention away from the pain your feeling. You faintly hear him shouting in the distance. “Luke! Kieran! Get a doctor to meet us at the base!” The twins respond from a speaker, likely Sylus’s phone.

Because…if you don’t…there’s no going back…

He’s gone. You’re alone in the field this time. You killed your Dragon, and now he’s gone. You remember the agony tearing out of your throat as you wail into the air, mourning the wonderful life you had lost, and the one you never got to have with your dragon.

And then…silence.

Air fills your lungs again. Your entire body goes slack and falls into Sylus’s embrace. You cough and choke on the oxygen overwhelming your senses. The tears don’t stop falling. The tremors do not leave your hands. And Sylus…oh Sylus

Labored breaths rack your entire body. Pain and relief clash together as you try to get your bearings.

“Kitten…are…are you o-okay?” His voice is shaky, as if he’s hopeful, yet afraid the agony isn’t over.

As you continue to breathe heavy and gasp for air, whimpers escape your lips as you nod weakly.

“I-I think I’m o-okay.” Your breathing eventually evens out.

Sylus takes this as a sign that he can touch you without causing any pain. His hands cup your cheeks as he lifts your gaze to his.

“We need to get you home. There is a doctor waiting to check over you. Can you walk, sweetie?” His eyes search your tear-filled ones.

“Wait. Sylus-”

“If not, I don’t mind carrying you. I just don’t want to cause you any pain if I touch you.” Sylus is desperate, frantic to get you somewhere safe. What if he loses you again? He can’t risk that.

A faint smile lifts the corners of your mouth. A sob escaped your lips as you really look at this beautiful man worrying over you.

“Sylus…you could never hurt me. How could you ever think that?” Your hands are hovering over his head again, as if searching for the horns. Maybe they’re hidden by his evol. Maybe he doesn’t have them in this life.

You can only pray that, if he still has them, he didn’t cut them off again like countless times before.

Your voice trembles. “Oh my Dragon…” another sob escaped your lips as Sylus’s heart stops beating for a moment. “I’m so…I’m so sorry.”

Everything stills in the world. Carmine eyes turn glassy as they peer into your very soul. His breaths quicken.

“What…what did you say?” He can’t believe it. He wouldn’t dare hope. This is a trick. Someone has trapped him in an illusion where you remember him. His heart will surely break beyond oblivion. Cursed by his beloved or not, he would not come back after this. This death will be absolute.

“Sylus I-I’m so sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am. For what I did to you then and in this life.” You can’t stop crying.

A slight mist rolls over Sylus’s eyes. Deep vermillion turns into shining garnets as one tear, then another, and another makes their way down his face. A look of hope and despair is all you can see. He then whispers your name so softly you thought you imagined it.

“How…how did you-? How much do you…remember?” Sylus releases short and shaky breaths with his words. A man of calm and collection and dignity has never looked so terrified and unsure and small.

You’re afraid to answer, but he deserves that at the very least from you. You took everything from him in his last life and condemned him in this one. You owe him this.

You slightly look at your surroundings. “Today is the most I’ve felt at peace in a long time. You gave me that. And in a field of datura flowers no less.” Your gaze lands on him, a small reassuring smile graces your lips.

“You gave me everything I could have ever wanted. You fulfilled every desire I craved. You…you protected me when we were ripped apart.” Your voice breaks on that last word.

A hand cups your cheek. “Sweetie, tell me…please. I need to know.” Sylus knows he sounds desperate, and he doesn’t care. This was everything. And he’ll be damned if this moment is gone before he loses you again.

Your arms wrap around his neck as you tackle him in an embrace. Truly giving yourself to this moment, you leave no room for any misunderstandings.

“I remember everything, Sylus. I remember giving you your name. I remember the mark you left me. We conquered enemies together. We took what was ours and fed into each other’s desires. I remember singing for you. I remember…” Your arms wind tighter around him.

“I remember being ripped apart from you. I remember the datura field. I…I remember being reunited with you once again only to take away everything from you. I remember the…curse I gave you…” Your crimes against him hit you hard.

You suddenly back away, already missing his comforting touch. But you don’t have that right or privilege anymore. You can no longer claim him as yours now that ignorance is out of the question. You remember everything. And now it’s time to repay for your crimes.

Your hands hover in front of you, palms forward in a surrendering position.

“And I’m so sorry, Sylus. I’m so sorry for everything I did. And for all of the pain I caused you. You have no idea how much I wish it was me instead of you…”

Your eyes remain on his as you vow to him, “I swear on this life and every one after that I will make things right. I will do anything you ask. Anything you command of me. I will accept any punishment you demand. Whatever penance you desire to inflict upon me. I swear it…” A small glimmer in your eyes begs Sylus to have mercy, but it is immediately shadowed by all of the guilt. You don’t deserve all of this kindness he’s shown you again. Why hasn’t he tossed you to your demise after all of this? What could you possibly have done to be shown his mercy?

Sylus doesn’t move except for the inhale and exhale movements from his chest.

“Sweetie…do you swear this isn’t a dream? Do you really remember everything?”

You nod, the lump in your throat makes it difficult to formulate words.

Suddenly he’s right in front of you. His movements are frantic again. Tremors run through his hands as they trail up your arms to your shoulders and up your neck to cradle your face again.

“My Sorceress. My beloved…I have waited so long to find you again. You’re as beautiful as that day in the datura fields of Taurus City…I finally found you…” he breathes out the last words with a smile.

“And you are my everything, I wouldn’t dare let any harm come to you. You have nothing to apologize for. I knew that…I knew I was losing myself. If you hadn’t done it, I would’ve…” His voice is choked.

He pressed his forehead against yours, and you bask in his embrace. The warmth from his breath, the soothing touch of his hands, the piercing gaze he has over you make you want to melt in his arms.

“I would’ve done something I’d never forgive myself of. Trust me, my love, the sword going through my chest was the better option.”

Although I feel a semblance of relief from his words, it doesn’t shake away the guilt I feel for cursing him.

“But I cursed you, Sylus. You’ll never truly be free. You’re forever chained to me. And I’m not…I’m not her. Not really. All the possibilities of who I could be in the next life and the next…it’s not fair to you.” My gaze drops in shame.

Sylus’s face turns into one of resolve. “Look at me.” He uses his evol to slightly jerk my head up and look into his eyes.

I start pleading again. “I promise I’ll fix ev-”

“You will do no such thing.”

My watery eyes widen in confusion. “I don’t-I don’t understand…”

He gives me his signature smirk. “My love, I’m a little heartbroken. Even after remembering everything, you still don’t get it.”

“You will do nothing of the sort. I am not chained down to you. I am not here unwillingly. From the very beginning, I swore to move mountains for you, crush your enemies, and give you everything you desired. That hasn’t changed…and it never will.”

After all this time, Sylus finally has you back. And he couldn’t be happier. Everything working up to this moment was worth it.

Externally, your eyes shined with relief that his love for you has held strong all these years. You were beyond elated that you have returned to each other.

Internally, you knew what had to be done. You knew that you had to make things right. You weren’t good enough in this life to deserve a man of Sylus’s caliber. He deserved his Sorceress.

Now you just needed a plan on how to become her, or at least anything better than what you are, before Sylus realizes just how much you pale in comparison to the woman he loved in Taurus City.

Sylus would never accept anything less than her.

Maybe I can do a part 2 if y’all want to get into the rest of what I planned to write. I’m hella self-deprecating and self-sabotaging in my own life, why not be the same in fiction.

Let me know if y’all think this can be something

[daddyissuesbecauseofhotch]

Daddy issues || #5

{masterlist}

Aaron: Did you sleep well?

Aaron: Are you mad at me?

Aaron: Look, I don’t know what I did, but this silent treatment is pretty childish. Talk to me.

Aaron: Come on, I know you read these messages.

You: Stop. Please.

Aaron: Okay, what have I done?

You: Nothing.

Aaron: Then?

You: It has nothing to do with you.

Aaron: Is it related to your boyfriend?

You: My what?

Aaron: The guy who left your apartment this morning.

You: Oh, that guy.

Aaron: “That guy”? Who is he?

You: It’s none of your business.

Aaron: You went out some time after you left my apartment. Where did you go?

You: Who the hell do you think you are?

You: Where I go is none of your business.

You: Thank you for the dinner, but that’s all it was about.

Aaron: Why are you so hostile all of a sudden?

You: I don’t want to be interrogated. I have plans for tonight, don’t disturb me.

You hate to be mean, you don’t want to hurt him, but this is what needs to be done. To be honest, you don’t know why you’re like this all of a sudden, but you have this gut feeling that you can’t let him get closer. Was that kiss the best one in your life so far? Absolutely. But you weren’t ready to deal with their family dynamics.

It’s not that he didn’t talk about what made Jack upset, it’s more the fact you had no idea how to react, how to comfort him. You are not girlfriend material, never have been, maybe you shouldn’t start with a man who’s a good twenty years older than you with a son he raises alone.

Last night you felt like being locked in a cage after you returned to your apartment, and in the end you asked a friend to go to a club with you. Leo is a friend with benefits, although he’s not really a close friend of yours. A fuck buddy? Yeah, maybe that’s a better way to describe your relationship with him.

You’re not proud of yourself, not proud of your always partying lifestyle, but you’re an adult with a good job and a decent salary, you’re doing your best to be nice to people–that should be enough. Maybe you’re just too hard on yourself, that’s why deep down you’re building a distance between you and Aaron. Before calling Leo last night, you realized that your life isn’t compatible with Aaron’s, you two are too different to be able to make this work.

Yes, this must be the answer you’ve been looking for. You’re scared of not being good enough. You’ve always had a problem with that. Your parents loved you, but they were so very proud of you that you developed this need to be outstanding in whatever you were doing. Sometimes it happened, sometimes it didn’t. There were more failures, which probably guided you toward parties and one-night stands that helped you get away from reality temporarily.

When you wrote to Aaron that you have plans for tonight, you meant it, but not in the way he probably thought. You were going to watch a movie with a girl you know from college, then you probably go to some fast food restaurant where you can talk freely. She’s the closest thing you have to a best friend, which is probably pretty sad from the outside.

Just when you turn the key in the lock of your front door upon leaving, you hear the familiar creaking sound from next to you, followed by confident footsteps that get louder with each second. You know who it is. You don’t have to guess or look, because his presence is overwhelming from the moment he stops next to you.

“Does it have anything to do with me not telling you about Jack’s nightmare?”

He sounds exhausted, exasperated, and maybe there’s a hint of uncertainty too. His eyes are fixed on your face, carefully watching your reactions to see if he can find out something you’re not telling him. At this very moment you hate that he reads people for a living, because it’s simply not fair. There’s a power imbalance in a way–he knows everything, you know nothing.

In the end, you shake your head to assure him it’s something else. “I have to go,” you tell him, your tone being timid, sounding nothing like it should based on your messages.

“I thought it meant something, you know,” he notes as he crosses his arms over his chest. “That kiss yesterday, it was… I want more. I want you, all of you. I know, maybe there’s an age gap that can cause problems, but we should give it a shot, just to see where it leads us.”

What are you supposed to say? That he should choose someone better than you? That this age gap might be a problem? That you’re not sure you could take care of Jack in the way he would like you to? It’s hard to say, because the thought of hurting his feelings causes physical pain.

So, you shake your head and draw in a shallow breath. “Aaron, I like you, but why me? We’re so different, you should pick someone who’s more like you. Someone with a successful career, someone more mature than me,” you tell him.

He smiles. That damn smile and those dimples. God, why is it so hard to think clearly around him? And why can’t you just wave goodbye and walk away? Why are you torturing yourself by staying in his gravitational field?

Before you know it, he leans down to place a kiss on your temple, and he stays there, maybe a little too close to your liking. “Those short dresses and stilettos of yours are my biggest weaknesses,” he begins, his voice low and husky, sending a shiver down your spine. “But putting that aside, you’re down-to-earth, kind, beautiful, and the way you talk about your job tells me you’re good for a reason. You are perfect for me, never doubt that.”

You look at him wide-eyed, taken aback by all the things he told you. It feels surreal, to be taken so seriously by him–or anyone for that matter, but that’s a different issue. Right now you have to focus on not fainting on the spot. You can’t help but wonder if he knows what he’s doing to you, what numbing effect he has on you, as if he was a drug that can give you a delicious high with a single look.

“Don’t go anywhere, just come over,” he tells you, looking into your eyes to be more convincing.

And damn it, it works like a charm.

[365emotionlessfaces]

i’m literally so in love with her

The Aspiring Teachers Program

Part 4 WC:~1.8k

The next couple days came and went pretty much the same way. Melissa and her Aspiring One kept winning, or at least placing in the top three, and every time Melissa saw that bright smile, she found it harder to not kiss the girl. Their friendship had grown quickly over the past few days, and by the time dinner rolled around on the fourth day, they were practically inseparable. They had gotten so comfortable with each other, it almost felt weird to not be touching in some way or another, whether it was shoulders or knees touching, linking arms to walk around, or all out holding each other’s hands when they were only in need of one useful limb.

The days ended the same way, too. They would don their swimsuits and make their way to their private beach, laughing and bonding before dinner, which was also paired with laughs and smiles that neither of them would admit meant anything more. Her Aspiring one would tell her all the things she would do if she got to go home with Melissa, and Melissa allowed herself to imagine what it would be like. Having this pretty young thing there to treat her like a queen, all the time. Living a life with someone who went out of their way to do nice things and say nice things. She shook the thoughts from her head. This is just a kid. Even though Melissa knew that she’d be getting one helluva sweet deal, she knew that the kid had her whole life ahead of her, and Melissa would turn out to be the Joe in her life. Not being good enough for her.

So, instead Melissa would redirect the conversation and share horror stories from teaching, and when the girl didn’t waver in her dream of teaching, Melissa got to tell her all the things that made sharing her knowledge worth it.

They tried staying out as late as possible on the fourth night because they both knew that after dinner tomorrow, everyone would be packing up and heading back to their homes. Melissa couldn’t admit out loud that she wasn’t ready for this to end. Here was this girl promising Melissa the life she’d always wanted, and the redhead knew she’d have to give it up. So she just enjoyed her last night with the girl, and tried to push the dread for the morning out of her head.

Dreams came to Melissa fast, and unrelenting that night. Snippets of a life she could never have. Parent Trap sitting across from her at their table, eating dinner in the home they shared. Slow dancing in the living room while Burl Ives sings Christmas songs through the radio. Double dates with Barbara and Gerald. Looking through a maternity ward window at a tiny baby with a tiny bracelet that says SCHEMMENTI-

Melissa jolted awake and sat up quickly, mindful not to hit her head on the bunk above her. It was still dark, but almost out of instinct she looked across the room to Parent Trap’s bed. Melissa could just make out the silhouette of the young girl. She leaned against a post of the bed frame, and sighed.

‘I’m being ridiculous. I’ve got Joe at home to worry about, hopefully not for much longer, and what would Nonna say?’ Melissa huffed out a silent chuckle at the thought. ‘Might give ‘er a heart attack. Not even done with my divorce an’ I show up with a doll on my arm younger than the broad Joe had?’

After five minutes, the post was starting to dig into her back, so she decided to use the bathroom light to check her watch. When she saw she had ‘two freakin’ hours??’ until breakfast, she decided that she was gonna watch the sunrise from her little secret beach. As she dressed for the day, and exited the cabin as quietly as she could, Melissa hadn’t noticed that the star of her dreams had woken up.

Melissa only had about ten minutes between herself and nature before she heard footsteps approaching. She turned to see her Aspiring One with that beautiful smile, and those glittering eyes.

“Hey. Good mornin’, hon,” was the first words Melissa spoke for the day. Her voice was slightly groggy, despite being awake for a while now. She saw the young girl flush, and despite being slightly confused- she hasn’t blushed at ‘hon’ before-, she drank it in. This was the last day she’d ever get to see this gorgeous young girl and she’d like to spend it right by her side.

The girl took a seat next to Melissa and linked their arms before replying, “Morning, Em,” with a smile. The sun hadn’t made it over the trees across the small lake, but it was clear that it had come over the horizon behind them. The young girl didn’t say anything else, she just laid her head on Melissa’s shoulder. The redhead leaned her head against the top of the younger girl’s and they watched the sunrise in a comfortable silence. Melissa couldn’t help her mind wandering, imagining what it might be like to be able to wake up next to Parent Trap every day to watch the sunrise together.

After watching the beautiful colors cross the sky signaling the start of a new day, they pulled apart, but only slightly. “I’m really sad that we’re going home tonight,” the young girl said. Melissa hummed in agreement. “I really like you, Em. I wish we could go home together.” Melissa looked over to see the girl blushing again.

Melissa wished that, too, but she knew what she had to do. “Listen, kid-” The redhead was cut off when her Aspiring One placed their lips together softly. The kiss was brief, the young girl pulling away just as quickly as she had leaned in. Melissa had to use every ounce of self control not to throw everything out the window and just take the girl here on the beach.

“Sorry, I, uh, I just wanted to know what it would be like before you shot me down,” the girl said sheepishly. Melissa’s heart felt like it was shattering inside of her chest. They both knew what was about to come.

Melissa sighed before she spoke. The tears were already welling up in her eyes, so she looked down at her hands. “You’re young, you’re just a kid. You got your whole life ahead o’ ya. You’ve got school to go to, and I’ve got a divorce to win. I’d love nothin’ more than to be able to run away with you or somethin’, but I couldn’t do that to ya. It would never work, anyways. You need to go back home to Michigan, and go to school, and be the best teacher they ever see ‘round those parts.”

Melissa couldn’t bear to look back up to the girl. She finally let the tears fall when the girl stood and left, without saying anything more. Melissa couldn’t help but feel like she had just made the biggest mistake of her life.

The rest of the day went by in a blur. Melissa and her Aspiring Teacher won the last contest, of course, but the young girl only spoke to Melissa when she had to. Her voice was still full of kindness, but it wasn’t as enthusiastic, and her eyes had lost their sparkle. Was the shine in the girl’s eye just in Melissa’s imagination? Now that she had broken the girl’s heart, and her own, she couldn’t seeit anymore?

At dinner, Parent Trap sat with a group of kids her age, instead of with Melissa. The redhead, unable to stand being in the same room as the girl without being able to be right next to her, took her dinner to go. On her trek back to the cabin, she figured it wouldn’t hurt to get a headstart on packing. Entering the cabin, she looked to the bed where her Aspiring One had spent the last week, and sighed, tears welling up once more. She’d been on the verge of crying too many times today for her liking.

Sandwich in one hand, she tried to use the other to heave her suitcase onto the bed. You would think that it being almost empty would have made the task easier, but somehow Melissa managed to almost drop her sandwich, which made her let go of the suitcase to make sure her dinner stayed safe and edible with both hands. As the case went tumbling, it opened and out fell a little stuffed eagle, clearly handcrafted, wearing a Philadelphia Eagles jersey and denim shorts.

“Oh, Ronny! I forgot about you,” Melissa mumbled aloud. She had brought Ronny along in case they did somethin’ stupid, like a show and tell type thing. She then, of course, would have told them that he’s named after the quarterback playing for the Eagles the year she started teaching. She bent over to pick him up, and as she stood back up, she had an idea to end on better terms with the young girl that may or may not have stolen Melissa’s heart in the span of a week.

Melissa was pacing when Parent Trap returned from dinner. Her bags, long packed, sat near the door waiting for her.

“Hey. I was waitin’ for ya. I, uh, I didn’t wanna leave without saying goodbye and tellin’ ya that, uh, that I’m really glad I met ya,” the girl looked back at Melissa and frowned, but waited for the redhead to continue. Melissa reached down and grabbed Ronny from where she had set him on Parent Trap’s bed. “I hope I didn’t steer you away from teachin’, I still think you’d be amazing at it. This is Ronny,” Melissa held him out to the girl. “I got him from a student on the last day of my first year. I want you to have ‘im.”

The girl took the stuffed eagle before replying softly, “Thanks, Em.” Melissa looked at her while the girl smiled back at her, but Melissa could tell that the smile would never reach the girl’s eyes. Her still-not-sparkling-anymore eyes. Melissa sighed a ‘You’re welcome,’ before heading towards the door.

As she grabbed the handle of her suitcase, she turned to look at the girl one last time. “Maybe in the future, we’ll meet again. When you’ve finished school, and I’ve finished with the disaster in mine,” Melissa told the girl hopefully. She knew how unlikely it was. She only knew the girl’s first name, and the girl didn’t know her name at all. How would they even find each other?

“Yeah… maybe,” floated across the room softly and quietly. The girl didn’t even turn back to look at Melissa as she said it. Melissa just put her head down, and left the cabin. She cried in the taxi, and on the plane, and in the other taxi, and even a little bit once she was home.

Part Five

[trippiexlove]

Ch.17 - Serendipity

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Druitt POV

*Week before the Royal Rumble*

Tonight I didn't have any matches, but I did have a contract signing segment with Liv later.

Tonight I let Jade and Bi dress me, and I must say they did a pretty good job.

(Minus the purse)

For hair I just had my hair in a neat ponytail with a natural glam. (like picture above)

After I was done I went to gorilla just as I heard Liv's music phase out and my song started to play.

I walked keeping eye contacting with Liv the entire time, smirking as I got in the ring. I looked at Pearce and the influx of security that was around the ring.

Pearce raised the mic to his mouth "Ladies, lets keep this contract signing for your match at Royal Rumble at a civil level" he held out the contract with a pen and slid it in front of me.

I picked up the mic and looked at Liv "Liv, this is your last chance. Cause once you sign this contract, you are signing away your life, so are you sure you want to do this?"

She smiled at me as she raised up her mic "awe what is it Rhyan? are you scared that I could take your title from you?" she leaned forward a little "or are you scared because you know that I am way better than you"

"You see Liv, I am not afraid of anything, especially you" I laid the title on the table and leaned forward myself "I am not the one who snuck somebody from behind instead of facing me dead on, cause you know you can't beat me one on one"

Her face held a scowl as I leaned back and smiled I took the contract and signed it, and Pearce passed it to Liv and she signed it "Rhyan, next Saturday I will take everything you love, starting with taking that title, then sending you back to .... Main Event where you belong " she started laughing as I was now scowling at her. "and all you can do .... is watch me"

I stood up and act like I was about to exit the ring, when I quickly dropped the title and turn and launched myself over the table at her. Once I had her in my grip I started throwing jabs any and every where I could.

Before she could even get the upper hand security had separated us. I smiled as Liv was trying to fight through security to get to me, so I blew her a kiss as I was handed my title and walked through gorilla.

*Royal Rumble Day*

It was finally Royal Rumble day and the anticipation was rising. I was in the back as I was completely ready for the night.

I was watching the monitor in the back as the Women Royal Rumble was set to start. Bianca and Jade was watching with me in the back.

As Samantha was announcing the start of the match, Natalya made her entrance.

I went over to Bi and Jade "who is going to be number 2?"

Bianca shrugged her shoulders "I have no idea, they said it was a surprise entrant"

As soon as she said that the lights cut out, lasers started going, and that familiar song started to play. I didn't have to look over at Bi and Jade to know that they had the same look of shock as me.

"She didn't tell me she was going to be here!" I was shocked as I watch Trinity make her surprise return back to WWE. She smiled as I could see the emotions run through her as the WWE universe welcomed her back with a standing ovation.

I continued to watch the match, as Bi and Jade both made their way out at their call time.

*1 hour later*

It was the end of the rumble, and Bayley was celebrating her huge win. With my match being next, I made my way towards gorilla, where I saw Trin talking with Bi and Jade.

"Now do we need to fight now or later" I said as I walked up to the group.

"How about never and give me a hug" she pulled me into a hug as I hugged her tighter.

"Does this mean that you're back?" I pulled back looking at her.

"yes I am back!" We all cheered as we pulled her into a group hug. Then when Bayley walked out we congratulated her.

"Congrats Pam! Maybe we will meet at WrestleMania"

"Maybe we will, I love working with you" I smiled as I said bye to the girls and went into gorilla, getting into the zone.

Once my music hit I got into character, coming out to a bunch more cheers than boos tonight. Liv was already in the ring waiting on me, and we kept eye contact the entire time.

Soon as the bell rang, we started going for blood.

I got the upper hand and swung her into the turnbuckle, stunning her a bit as I ran and landed a big boot to the side of her face and she dropped.

I quickly dropped with her and the ref started the count.

1..

2..

And a kick out right before 3. I pulled her up and as I did she quickly sent a few blows to my head and one to my mid section making me bend over and caught me with a DDT.

She quickly pinned me as I laid there

1..

2..

I kicked out right before 3, cradling my mid section. I saw Liv quickly roll out the ring and grabbed an item. Whatever she grabbed made the crowd get hyped.

I leaned up, and as soon as I did I felt the impact of the chair on my back.

"Ah!" I fell over and Liv kept hitting me over and over again. I finally built enough strength and took my leg and swept it under her to make her fall to the mat.

*15 minutes later*

Liv laid out on the outside of the ring. I rolled on the outside and went under the ring, and grabbed a table and the crowd cheered even louder.

I set up the table and went to grab Liv. Before I could pick her up she swung me right into the post, then right into the ring.

I leaned up and grabbed the ropes and as I turned Liv hit me with obLIVion and went for the pin, but I kicked out at 2.

She got up to get on the top rope which gave me time to recover. I moved out the way as Liv dived at me and she rolled. I decided to pay a little subtle tribute to the twins and as Liv turned towards me I sent a super kick to her, dropping her.

I quickly picked her up and sent her through the table on the outside, the crowd on their feet cheering "THIS IS AWESOME"

I grabbed Liv and threw her back in the ring. I went for the 3 count, quickly getting it.

I smiled as the ref handed me my title and I celebrated on the top rope as Liv walked to the back.

*Few moments later*

It was finally time to for the men's royal rumble match. The twins will start as this will begin their feud for WrestleMania.

Currently I was in my dressing room, dressed in a two-piece travel set while Jey was finishing wrapping his hand.

I walked over finishing for him and made sure his gear was together.

"Good luck out there, remember that tonight you are making history" I looked into his eyes as he leaned down for a quick kiss.

"thank you ma, after tonight we deserve a vacation" I nodded in agreement.

"We definitely do" soon a knock came to the door and it was time for Jey to go. We did our handshake before he left, soon Trin came and joined me as we sat and enjoyed the rest of the show together.

The whole match had us on the edge of our seats, it ending with Cody winning.

After the night, we all gathered our things and decided to just hang out in Jey's and I hotel room for the night. We ended up ordering pizza and watching a movie until we all fell asleep.

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ʟᴀɴᴅᴏ ɴᴏʀʀɪs x ᴏᴄ Something a little bit different from me tonight. A very old one shot reimagined as a Lando fic because I can’t help myself.

ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪ ɢᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ sᴛʀᴇɴɢᴛʜ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ'ᴍ ᴡᴇᴀᴋ 'ᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ɪ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ

Five years ago when Lando Norris asked me to be his girlfriend, I was the happiest I've ever been we may have been young but we were in love. I never thought one person could make me feel like I was on cloud nine everyday the way he did. I had the life so many dream about; the most loving boyfriend, amazing friends, the nice house, the nice car, the luxury holidays. I had it all. It sounds perfect doesn't it? Don't get me wrong it's an amazing lifestyle until the person you love more than anything in the world cheats on you. Not just once but regularly. That's when none of that stuff matters anymore it becomes a world of anxiety, doubt and worry. Where is he? Who is he with? Will he come home tonight? This is the life I'm living now as Lando Norris's fiancée. 

"Where've you been?" I ask Lando casually as he strolls into the bedroom of our Monaco apartment. Deep down I know where he's been and truthfully it makes me feel sick but I don't actually want to hear the words come from his mouth. In my head it will be more devastating to actually hear him say what I know has been going on behind my back for months now rather than acting oblivious.

"Just out with some friends, you should come next time" Lando says as he starts getting ready for bed. I don't understand how he's so blasé and how he can act like he's doing nothing wrong.

"That would be interesting wouldn't it" I mumble to myself as I turn the TV off and pull the duvet over myself, cocooning myself in.

"What was that?" Lando asks as he stands in the doorway of our en-suite.

"I said maybe one day. Night Lando" I say turning my bedside lamp off to put an end to our conversation. Hearing the bathroom door close I finally let the tears roll down my cheeks. This seems to have became a more regular thing lately. Lando comes home late with no explanation and I cry myself to sleep. Thinking about our relationship I question how things have got this bad between us. How have we allowed things to get this bad?

"You cried yourself to sleep again last night didn't you?" My best friend Sarah says the next day as I sit in her kitchen.

"What makes you say that?" I don't even know why I'm trying to deny it. It's obvious when you look at me and sadly she's been through this with me so many times she knows the signs.

"Your eyes are red and puffy. The bags under your eyes are something else and your mood tells me that you're beating yourself up. Why do you let him do this to you Taylor?" Sarah says not even needing to ask what's going on.

"I love him Sarah. I haven't actually asked him about anything yet but it's the same signs as the last four times" saying things out loud makes me realise what I'm actually letting Lando do to me.

"Taylor get some self respect! This might sound harsh but I can't watch Lando hurt you any more. He's cheated on you multiple times! You know about four girls he's admitted to but let’s be honest there's probably a hell of a lot more and every time you keep running back to him. You throw him out for a few weeks maybe two months at the most and he begs enough and promises to never do it again and you take him back because you miss having him around! No one deserves to be treated the way he's treating you" listening to Sarah I know she's right but I can't physically admit that my relationship with Lando has ran its course. It's destroying me mentally. 

"It's not all bad though and I know he does love me" I'm aware I sound pathetic but I truthfully believe that Lando does still love me. We’ve been together for so long now, he’s the only one I think about when I think about forever.

"This isn't how you treat someone you love. Look I'm not going to say anymore because you know I have a strong opinion on this and we don't agree so rather than this ending in an argument I'm going to stop talking. I've told you what I think but sadly I can't make any decisions for you. If I could he'd have been binned off a long time ago" I know everyone who knows me would be happy if I left Lando for good but I can't, I don't want to be alone. I can't picture a life without him in it. I feel like I've put so much time and effort into our relationship to throw it away.

sᴏ ɪ sᴛᴏᴘ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ʟᴇᴀʀɴ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴇɴ ɪᴛ ᴀʟʟ ʀᴇᴍᴀɪɴs ᴛʜᴇ sᴀᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɪɴ'ᴛ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ

"Will you come in with me? I know exactly what I'll be going in there to and I'm not prepared for that" I say as we pull into the garage at mine and Lando’s apartment and I see the strange car in one of our parking bays.

"Taylor this is so wrong. We've been away for a hen weekend and now you're worried to even go in your own house because you know your dick of a boyfriend has most likely cheated on you, again. However I can see how anxious you are so I will come with you but I'm telling you now I'm not being held responsible for my actions if he has got a girl in there" getting out of the car with Sarah I'm terrified. I know Lando has cheated on me probably too many times to count but I've never actually caught him with another girl let alone with another girl in our home.

"Lando?" I say walking into the kitchen not seeing Lando anywhere. This just confirms to me that he's still in our bed with a slut. Yes I'm going to call her a slut even though I don't know her. Mine and Lando’s relationship has been in the public eye for as long as I remember and there's photos around the house of us together. There's no way she can't know about me. Walking into our bedroom I feel sick. Lando is still sleeping with the fake red headed slut next to him and I feel like I can't breathe.

"You don't deserve this Taylor. What are you going to do?"

"I don't know anymore Sarah. I could always block it out when I didn't see anything but how will I get this image out of my head? She's in my bed" I say. I'm angry and I'm shaking but I don't know how to act.

"Not for much longer she won't be" Sarah says walking over to the bedside table where she grabs the bottle of water that is sat there. Before I know it she's pouring water over Lando and whoever that is in my bed "get up now, both of you" I don't think I've ever heard Sarah so angry in the whole time I've known her.

"What the fuck are you doing? You absolute psycho!" Lando shouts as he jumps out of bed.

"How could you?" I say when Lando looks at me actually realising I'm there and not just Sarah. I'm scarily calm and I'm even scaring myself. I don't even shout, I haven't got it in me to raise my voice.

"Taylor babe this meant nothing" always the same speech. It never meant anything when Lando tries to justify his actions.

"Don't you think you better leave?" I say looking at the girl in my bed "I don't care who the fuck you are but get the fuck out of my bed and get the fuck out of my house. Now!" Seeing the look on Sarah’s face I know she never expected that tone to come from me, hell I didn't even expect it.

I don't take my eyes of the red head as she climbs out of bed gathering her clothes, within minutes I hear her leave the house. That's when I let the tears flow free and Lando gets the brunt of my anger. Next thing I know I'm throwing things at him, I'm hitting his chest and I can't stop the tears.

"Why would you do this to me!"

"I'm sorry! It was a mistake. She didn't mean anything to me. Taylor she's nothing compared to you" Lando says trying to pull me into his arms but I resit and pull back.

"Don't touch me!" I scream at Lando not wanting to be anywhere near him.

"You disgust me Norris! You've got the most amazing girl and you treat her like this! You don't deserve her! She should've left you the first time she found out you cheated" Sarah shouts at Lando and I know she’s right. I should have left years ago.

"Keep out of this Sarah! This is between me and Taylor! Why are you even here?"

"Because your fiancée was too scared to come into her own home by herself because she knew you'd have a slut here! Look what you're doing to her! You're destroying her piece by piece!" Sarah has so much built up anger towards Lando I can see this exploding as both of them raise their voices at each other.

"Stop it! Stop it now! Both of you!" I scream nearly hysterical looking between my fiancée and best friend "I know you don't like each other but stop! Sarah will you give us a minute please?" I say knowing I need to speak to Lando alone.

"I'll be in the kitchen" Sarah says giving Lando daggers as she leaves the bedroom.

"Tay..." Lando starts but I cut him off.

"Don't bother Lando. I don't want to hear it. From my perspective you have no excuse for any of this. We were supposed to get married! Christ it's not like you don't get sex from me because you do! I could understand a little bit more if that was the case! I want you to leave" I say determined this will be the last time.

"Taylor please don't. I love you"

"This isn't how you treat someone you love Lando. Just go please. Stay with a friend, stay with your family, stay with one of the sluts you've been shagging behind my back I don't care anymore. All I know is that I want you to pack a bag and leave. There never will be a wedding" I say throwing my engagement ring on the bed before walking out of the bedroom not giving Lando the chance to respond. This is the final straw I can't go through this anymore. After five years I need to plan a life without Lando Norris by my side.