#i just know hes gonna do something evil . hes evil . i can see it in his eyes . also bc today i saw a thing that went like

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, in every life ࿐‧₊ fuckbuddies - i knew you were trouble

chapter summary: It's always been "the last time," yet Logan always comes back. Then he disappears for over a year and reenters your life, sending you spiraling.

word count: 13.3k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: let me be very clear about something - i do not condone cheating. but i thought it would be interesting to write about the "soulmate" connection that reader and logan have, and how no matter what, it always leads them back to each other

if you do not like cheating, do not read. as you can see in the tags, yes there is emotional cheating from reader, as well as a kiss (that isn't readers bf). once again, don't like it? don't read it.

anyways - consider me now evil laughing while i make y'all wait another week for the next chapter of i love you, always and forever

warnings/tags: hook ups, angst, drinking, reader has a boyfriend that isn't logan, emotional cheating, slight cheating, smut, f!masturbation, slight asshole!logan

series masterlist

“This is the last time.” Logan said, slowly getting up off the bed and pulling on his jeans.

You lay on your side, propped up on one elbow, watching him move through the dimly lit room. The sheets were tangled around your legs, still warm from where he’d been. His back was to you as he buttoned his jeans, his muscles shifting under his skin, but you didn’t miss the way his shoulders were just a little tenser than usual.

"You say that every time," you murmured, stretching out against the mattress, making no move to cover yourself.

Logan let out a sharp breath through his nose, like he wanted to argue but knew it’d be useless. "Yeah, well… maybe this time I mean it."

You smirked. "Sure. And maybe next Friday, you won’t be at the bar, watching me from across the room, scowling at any guy who tries to buy me a drink."

He shot you a look over his shoulder, his expression half-annoyed, half-something he wouldn’t let himself name. "Ain’t my fault if you got bad taste in men."

You laughed, rolling onto your back. "Oh, right. Because you’re such a great example of a healthy relationship."

Logan didn’t answer that. Instead, he grabbed his shirt from the floor and pulled it over his head. You watched him, taking in the way his jaw tightened, the way his movements were just a little too quick, like if he lingered, he might change his mind.

"You don’t have to go, you know," you said, your voice softer now. "It’s late. And you’re always up at the ass crack of dawn anyway. You could just stay."

Logan stood still for a second, his hands at his sides. Then he turned back to face you, his expression unreadable. "We both know how this works, sweetheart."

You have him a sweet smile. “Oh, I know. Do you?”

Logan’s jaw tightened, and for a second, you thought he might actually argue. Instead, he just exhaled sharply through his nose, like he was trying to hold something back. His eyes flicked over you—lazy and heated, the way they always were right after, but there was something else there too. Something he’d never say out loud.

He ran a hand down his face, like that might help shake off whatever was rattling around in his head. “Ain’t the same.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t it?”

Logan sat on the edge of the bed, his back to you. You reached out, trailing your fingers along the ridge of muscle down his spine. He tensed but didn’t pull away.

“You’re the one who keeps showin’ up,” you pointed out. “Every Friday. Every time.”

Logan huffed, shaking his head. “You say that like it’s a choice.”

That made you pause. Just for a second. Because that sounded dangerously close to something real, something neither of you ever acknowledged.

“You gonna tell me it’s fate, then?” you teased, letting your fingers drag down his arm now, light and slow. “That we just can’t help it?”

Logan’s head tilted slightly, like he was considering it. Then he scoffed, shaking his head. “Nah. Ain’t fate. Just bad fuckin’ decisions.”

You laughed, leaning forward so your chin rested on his shoulder. “Speak for yourself.”

His hand came up, his fingers brushing absently over yours where they rested on his arm. It was such a small thing, barely even a touch, but it made your breath catch anyway. You weren’t sure if he even realized he was doing it.

“You don’t gotta go,” you murmured again, softer this time.

Logan let out a slow breath, his fingers twitching against yours. For a moment, you thought he might stay. That maybe, this time, he’d crawl back into bed, let the weight of the night settle over both of you instead of running from it.

But then he pulled away. Stood up. Started looking for the rest of his clothes.

Your stomach twisted, but you didn’t let it show.

“Right,” you muttered, sitting back against the pillows. “Just like always.”

Logan paused in the middle of buttoning his shirt. He didn’t look at you, but his shoulders tensed. Like he wanted to say something. But he didn’t.

He just finished getting dressed, grabbed his boots, and made for the door.

“You know,” you called after him, keeping your tone light, teasing, “if you really wanted this to be the last time, maybe you should stop leaving your shit here.”

Logan stopped in the doorway. He glanced down, realizing he’d left his belt draped over the arm of your couch. He muttered something under his breath before stepping back in, snatching it up.

You smirked. “See? It’s like you want a reason to come back.”

Logan turned, his gaze locking onto yours. There was something unreadable in his expression—some mix of frustration, desire, and something heavier, something you weren’t sure you wanted to name.

“Don’t need a reason,” he said finally. “We both know I’m comin’ back.”

And then he was gone.

---

Sometimes Logan was gone for a few weeks, at the most a few months. So you, like an idiot, waited. Another few months went by. And then another.

Soon, you had almost completely forgotten about the hook-up’s the two of you shared through the years.

It was yet another Friday night at the bar, you were sitting with your coworkers from the firm and some other friends, unaware that Logan, with his heavy boots and all, walked in.

One of your friends, Lindsay, was shaking Veronica’s shoulder. “Girl, marry her! Put a ring on her!”

Veronica nearly fell off the bench from the force of Lindsay’s shaking and shoving. “Maybe. But I won’t be able to even consider it if I die from a head injury.”

You snorted, “I’ve seen you fall off a horse at fall speed onto concrete. You’ll be fine from Linnie’s shaking.”

“Ugh, I need another drink.” Lindsay announced. “Can you get us some more shots? Pleeease?”

“Yeah, yeah, birthday girl. I’ll be back.” You walked over to the counter, setting the shot glasses down and waving over the bartender.

A man sat down on the stool next to where you were standing. On instinct you turned to look. Your eyebrows raised slightly, “Logan.”

Logan turned his head slightly at the sound of your voice, his face unreadable. His eyes dragged over you, lingering just long enough to make your stomach twist. The same old intensity, the same weight behind his gaze, but something about it felt different now.

"Sweetheart," he said, voice low, gruff. Like he was testing the word, seeing how it felt after all this time.

It had been a year and a half. Longer than he'd ever stayed away before.

You leaned against the bar, crossing your arms. "Didn’t think you did the whole disappearing act anymore."

Logan exhaled through his nose, glancing away for half a second before looking back at you. "Figured it was time to break the habit."

You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head. "Yeah? How’s that workin’ out for you?"

He didn’t answer right away. Just glanced at the bartender as they set down the shots you ordered. You grabbed the tray, feeling the weight of his stare as you did.

"You here with someone?" Logan asked, nodding toward your table.

You followed his gaze. Lindsay and Veronica were deep in conversation, a few of your other coworkers laughing at something one of them said. It was a normal Friday night. The kind Logan used to be part of—until he wasn’t.

You turned back to him. "Just work friends. Same as always."

Logan’s jaw twitched, like he was trying to decide if he believed that. He nodded slowly, then dragged his hand down his face, exhaling like he was already regretting something.

"Good," he muttered.

You narrowed your eyes. "Good?"

Logan shook his head, eyes dropping to the glass of whiskey the bartender had just set in front of him. "Nothin’."

You stared at him for a second, trying to piece together what the hell this was. Why now? Why after a year and a half of silence did he suddenly show up again, sitting at this bar like no time had passed?

"Why are you here, Logan?"

Logan lifted the whiskey to his lips, taking a slow sip before setting it down. His fingers tapped against the glass. "Just needed a drink."

"Bullshit."

His lips twitched like he wanted to smirk, but he didn’t let it happen. "Maybe."

The air between you shifted. Something old, something familiar, creeping back in. The same way it always did when he was near.

You licked your lips, pushing down the instinct to fall back into whatever this was. Whatever it had been. "If you’re expectin’ things to be the way they were, you’re outta luck."

Logan’s gaze flicked back up to you, sharp and steady. "That right?"

You tilted your head. "Yeah."

His eyes searched yours, reading more than you wanted him to. "Somebody else?"

The question was direct, and for the first time since he sat down, you hesitated.

You could’ve lied. Could’ve danced around it. But that wasn’t you, and Logan would’ve seen right through it anyway.

"Yeah," you said finally. "His name’s Theodore."

Logan let out a slow breath, nodding once like he was confirming something to himself. "Theodore," he repeated, rolling the name over like he was trying to figure out how it sat on his tongue.

"Been together ten months," you added, because if you were gonna do this, you weren’t gonna half-ass it.

Something flickered across Logan’s face. Not quite anger, not quite surprise. Just something unreadable. He picked up his glass again, downing the rest of the whiskey in one go.

You snorted. “Jealous, Logan? Pretty sure you don’t have any reason to be.”

Logan’s jaw flexed, his fingers tightening around the empty glass before he set it down with a dull thud against the bar. He didn’t look at you right away, just rolled his shoulders like he was trying to shake off whatever the hell had just settled in his chest.

“Didn’t say I was jealous,” he muttered, but there was a sharp edge to his voice, something that didn’t quite match the casual way he leaned back against the bar.

You smirked, tilting your head. “Sure as hell looks like it from where I’m standing.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just sat there, staring at his empty glass, his jaw working like he was chewing on words he wasn’t ready to spit out.

You sighed, suddenly feeling exhausted by the whole thing. “Look, Logan, if you came here for a drink, then have your drink. But if you came here lookin’ for something else, you’re about a year and a half too late.”

That got a reaction. His eyes snapped back to yours, something dark and unreadable flashing behind them. “That right?”

You lifted your chin slightly. “Yeah.”

Logan held your gaze for a long moment, like he was trying to decide whether or not to call bullshit. But then, he leaned forward, his forearms resting on the bar, his voice dropping lower.

“So, where’s he tonight?”

“He’s a professor at the college. Has a late class on Friday’s.”

Logan hummed, low in his throat. He didn’t look at you right away, just tapped his fingers against the bar top, slow and steady. "Convenient," he muttered.

You rolled your eyes. "Oh, don’t start."

Logan finally glanced up, expression unreadable. "Ain’t startin’ nothin’, sweetheart. Just makin’ an observation."

You exhaled sharply, shifting your weight against the bar. You weren’t gonna do this—not with him, not again. "Well, you can keep your observations to yourself."

Logan huffed out something that might’ve been a laugh, shaking his head before turning his attention back to his empty glass.

The bartender slid by, glancing between the two of you before nodding toward Logan’s drink. "Another?"

Logan didn’t answer right away. Just ran a hand down his face, jaw tight. Then he nodded. "Yeah. One more."

You narrowed your eyes. "One more, huh? That what you told yourself before walkin’ in here?"

Logan sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "You always this much of a pain in the ass, or is that just for me?"

You smirked. "Oh, it’s just for you. Consider it a privilege."

The bartender returned, setting a fresh whiskey in front of him before glancing at your tray of shots. "Need help carrying that back?"

You waved them off. "Nah, I got it. Thanks, though."

Logan watched as you adjusted the tray, making sure the glasses were steady before picking it up. He didn’t say anything, but you could feel his eyes on you, that same sharp, assessing look that always made your stomach twist in ways you didn’t want to admit.

You hesitated, just for a second. Then you exhaled, straightening. "See you around, Logan."

He took a slow sip of his whiskey, eyes still on you over the rim of his glass. "Yeah," he said, voice low. "See you around."

You turned, walking back toward your table, heart pounding harder than it had any right to.

---

You made it another two weeks before it happened again.

Another Friday night, another round of drinks with your friends. You weren’t looking for him, weren’t expecting him, but the second Logan stepped through the door, your whole body went tense.

He saw you immediately. Of course, he did.

And of course, instead of ignoring you—like a normal person—he made his way to the bar, ordered a drink, and leaned back against the counter like he had all the time in the goddamn world.

You exhaled slowly, turning back to your friends. You weren’t gonna do this.

But Lindsay, ever the observant one, caught the way your shoulders stiffened. She followed your gaze, eyes widening slightly when she spotted Logan. "Oh," she said, grinning. "That him?"

You gave her a warning look. "Don’t."

She ignored you completely, nudging Veronica. "Hey, check out the brooding guy at the bar. That’s the ex, right?"

Veronica, already a little tipsy, squinted in Logan’s direction. "Damn. No offense to Theodore, but I kinda get it."

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. "He’s not my ex. It wasn’t like that."

"Uh-huh," Lindsay drawled. "Then why do you look like you wanna throw your drink at his head?"

You didn’t answer. Just grabbed your glass and took a long sip, ignoring the way your pulse had kicked up.

But Lindsay wasn’t done. "So, what’s the deal? He just show up again after a year and a half like nothin’ happened?"

"Pretty much," you muttered.

"And let me guess," Veronica added, "he’s still hot, still frustrating, and still looking at you like you’re the only person in the room?"

You swallowed, resisting the urge to glance over. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

"Sure you don’t," Lindsay said, smirking.

You huffed, shaking your head. "I’m with Theodore."

"Uh-huh," she said again.

"I am," you insisted. "And I’m happy."

Lindsay held up her hands in surrender. "Hey, I believe you. I’m just sayin’—guys like him?" She nodded toward Logan. "They don’t just show back up for no reason."

You didn’t have an answer for that.

And when you finally let yourself glance toward the bar, Logan was already watching.

---

The third time, you weren’t surprised.

You were at the bar alone—Theodore had a department meeting, and your friends were running late—when Logan sat down beside you, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Sweetheart," he greeted, nodding at the bartender.

You sighed, turning slightly. "Logan."

"Didn’t think you’d be alone tonight."

You shrugged. "Guess you got lucky."

Logan smirked. "Guess so."

Silence settled between you, comfortable in a way it shouldn’t be.

Finally, you sighed. "Alright, what’s the deal?"

Logan raised an eyebrow. "The deal?"

"You," you said, waving a hand at him. "Showing up here. Again."

He took a slow sip of his drink before answering. "Just a bar, sweetheart."

You gave him a flat look. "Bullshit."

Logan chuckled, shaking his head. "Maybe I just wanted to see you."

Your breath caught—just for a second. You covered it with a sip of your drink. "That so?"

"Yeah," he said, voice rough. "That so."

Your fingers curled around your glass. "Well, you’re a year and a half too late."

Logan didn’t flinch. Just watched you, quiet and steady. "Maybe," he said finally.

You exhaled, shaking your head. "You don’t get to do this, Logan. You don’t get to show up and act like—"

"Like what?" he asked, voice low. "Like I give a damn?"

You swallowed hard, heart pounding. "Like you have a right to."

Logan’s jaw tightened, his hand flexing against his glass. "And if I do?"

You stared at him, pulse hammering in your throat. "Then you should’ve said something sooner."

Logan held your gaze, eyes dark, unreadable. Then, slowly, he nodded. "Maybe I should’ve."

Silence stretched between you.

Then Logan leaned in, voice low, rough. "You happy, sweetheart?"

You knew he meant that in more ways than one. Were you happy with your life? Were you happy that he was gone? But most importantly, were you happy with Theodore?

Apparently you were quiet for too long, because Logan spoke up again. “Hmm. Don’t gotta answer, darlin’?”

You exhaled sharply, gripping your glass a little tighter. “What do you want me to say, Logan?”

He tilted his head slightly, watching you with that unreadable expression, the one that always made you feel like he was seeing through whatever walls you put up. “I dunno. Just figured if you were real happy, you’d have said so by now.”

You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head. “That’s some real messed-up logic.”

Logan just shrugged, taking another sip of his whiskey. “Maybe.”

The silence stretched, thick and charged. The bar was loud, filled with the usual Friday night chaos—clinking glasses, bursts of laughter, the occasional drunken shout from across the room. But between you and Logan, it felt like there was nothing else. Just this.

Finally, you sighed, turning slightly to face him. “You don’t get to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Sit here and pick apart my relationship like you have any say in it.”

Logan’s jaw twitched. “Ain’t what I’m doin’.”

You scoffed. “Yeah? ‘Cause from where I’m sitting, it sure as hell feels like you’re trying to poke holes in my life, like you’re looking for some kind of excuse—”

“Maybe I am,” Logan cut in, voice low, rough. “Maybe I’m tryin’ to figure out if you’re just sayin’ you’re happy ‘cause it’s easy, ‘cause it’s simple, ‘cause it ain’t—” He stopped himself short, shaking his head.

“Because it isn’t you?” you finished for him, your voice quieter now.

Logan didn’t answer right away. Just stared at you, his fingers drumming lightly against his glass. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

You weren’t sure what the hell you were doing anymore. This wasn’t supposed to be happening—this conversation, this tension that wrapped around the both of you like a wire pulled too tight. You had a boyfriend. A stable, reliable, good man who didn’t disappear for a year and a half with no word, no explanation.

And yet, here you were. Sitting at a bar with Logan like no time had passed, like something in you still hadn’t figured out how to quit him.

“I love him.” You said.

“Yeah? You gonna marry him?”

“Maybe I will. Get a nice house, a dog, maybe have a couple kids. Real nice.”

Logan’s jaw flexed, his fingers tightening around his glass. He rolled his whiskey between his hands, like he was working through something in his head, something he wasn’t sure he wanted to say.

“Yeah?” he muttered. “That what you want?”

You tilted your head slightly, studying him. “What’s it to you?” You continued before he could speak again, “when we first started doing this you told me one thing—it wasn’t a relationship, you weren’t gonna love me. Just that we were fuckbuddies. And what did I tell you? That I wanted a real relationship, wanted to get married. But I gave in to your demands.”

Logan stared at you, his jaw working like he was grinding his teeth behind closed lips. His hands curled around the glass in front of him, the tension in his knuckles making it look like he was considering crushing it between his fingers.

"Yeah," you pressed, your voice sharper now. "I gave in. Let you have it your way. Every damn time, I let you walk away, let you act like it didn’t mean anything. And now, what? You got somethin’ to say about me movin’ on?"

Logan exhaled slowly, nostrils flaring. He dragged his hand over his face, then downed the rest of his whiskey in one go before setting the glass down with a dull thud.

"You ain’t married yet," he muttered, voice low, rough.

Your fingers twitched against the bar. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

Logan didn’t answer right away. He shifted in his seat, rolling his shoulders like the weight of this conversation was settling too heavy on him. When he finally looked at you, his gaze was sharp, unreadable.

"It means you ain't married yet," he repeated. "So why the hell are we even havin’ this conversation?"

Your breath caught—just for a second. Because he wasn’t wrong. You weren’t married. You weren’t even engaged. But that wasn’t the damn point.

"The hell kind of logic is that?" you snapped. "You don’t get to just show up after a year and a half and act like—"

"Like what?" Logan cut in, his voice rising just enough to make your pulse spike. "Like I give a damn? Like I got a right to ask?"

"You don’t," you shot back, leaning in slightly. "You lost that right the second you walked away for the last time."

Logan’s jaw flexed. His hands curled into fists against the bar, and for a second, you thought he might actually hit something. But then he took a slow, steady breath, forcing himself to ease back.

"You happy with him?"

The question knocked the air from your lungs. Not because it was unexpected, but because he asked it the same way he always did—like he already knew the answer. Like he was waiting for you to admit something you weren’t ready to.

You held his gaze, forcing yourself to stay steady. "Yeah," you said finally. "I am."

Logan didn’t flinch, didn’t look away. He just nodded once, slowly, like he was measuring the weight of your words.

"Good," he said, but it sounded hollow.

You swallowed hard, gripping your drink a little tighter. "Bullshit," you murmured.

Logan exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head. "Ain’t my place to say otherwise."

You let out a short, bitter laugh. "Since when do you give a damn about what’s your place?"

Logan’s eyes darkened, something unreadable flashing behind them. His fingers tapped idly against the bar top, his movements slower, more deliberate. Like he was thinking through something real damn hard.

"You think I didn’t want more?" he muttered finally, his voice low, barely above a growl.

Your breath hitched. "What?"

"You think I didn’t—" Logan cut himself off, shaking his head. He ran a hand down his face, dragging his fingers through his hair before turning back to you, his expression unreadable. "Doesn’t matter."

"The hell it doesn’t," you shot back. "You don’t get to drop somethin’ like that and just walk away from it, Logan. You never wanted more. You made that real damn clear."

Logan let out a rough breath, looking away for a second before locking eyes with you again. "Maybe I didn’t think I had the right to want it."

Silence hung heavy between you.

Your fingers twitched against the bar, your heart hammering against your ribs. "That’s bullshit," you said, but the words didn’t have the same bite.

"Yeah," Logan muttered, shaking his head. "Yeah, it is."

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your chest ached. "Why now?"

Logan’s eyes flicked over your face, like he was trying to figure out how much he could say without ruining whatever the hell this was. "I dunno," he admitted finally. "But I walked into this bar tonight, saw you sittin’ there, and it hit me like a damn freight train. You ain’t just some girl I spent time with, sweetheart." His voice dropped lower, rougher. "You never were."

Your stomach twisted, a sharp breath catching in your throat. "Logan—"

"I ain’t askin’ you to change anything," he interrupted. "Ain’t askin’ you to do a damn thing. Just needed you to know."

You stared at him, pulse hammering. "And what the hell am I supposed to do with that?"

Logan let out a slow breath, dragging his hand down his face. "I dunno," he muttered. "But if you’re really happy—if this life is what you want—then I’ll back off. Just say the word."

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Because the truth sat heavy on your tongue, and for the first time in a long time, you weren’t sure what you wanted.

And Logan could see it.

He nodded once, like he already had his answer. "See you around, sweetheart."

And then, just like before, he walked away. But this time, it didn’t feel like an ending. It felt like the start of something you weren’t ready to face.

---

A chorus of “happy birthday” rang out through the bar. It was Tina’s birthday, and a whole group was there for the party.

"Oh, Theo. You didn’t have to get this." Tina held up the fancy pack of gel pens, shaking her head with a grin. "Seriously, this is the good stuff. I’m talking peak writing experience. Smooth ink, crisp lines. You might’ve just changed my life."

Theodore chuckled, adjusting his glasses. "Figured you’d appreciate them. Can’t have you running out mid-thought."

Tina pressed a hand to her heart, mock-swooning. "A man who supports a journalist’s stationery addiction? Y/N, you better hold onto this one."

You laughed, lifting your beer to take a sip. "Yeah, yeah. I’ll consider it."

The table burst into laughter, and Theodore, ever the good sport, just shook his head with a small smile. His arm rested lightly against the back of your chair, casual, familiar. Comfortable. You leaned into the warmth of it slightly, letting the conversation flow around you as the night carried on.

Then, you felt it. That prickling awareness at the back of your neck, that heavy gaze you knew too damn well.

You didn’t have to look. You already knew. But, like a goddamn idiot, you glanced over your shoulder anyway.

Logan was across the bar, leaning against the counter with a whiskey in his hand. He wasn’t watching you directly—not yet—but his body was angled just enough that it was obvious he was aware of exactly where you were. His eyes flicked up from his drink, locking onto yours for half a second, and it was enough to make your stomach twist.

You forced yourself to look away, turning back to the conversation at the table, but your brain was already playing catch-up, trying to process the fact that he was here. Again.

It had been four times now. Four damn Fridays. And this time, Theodore was here.

"So, Y/N," Lindsay started, pulling you back into the conversation. "Since you’re all settled and happy in your domestic little love life, what’s your take—joint bank accounts or keep it separate?"

You snorted. "Why the hell would I ever let a man have access to my money?"

The table laughed, and Theodore smirked. "Noted."

"Smart woman," Tina added, raising her glass in solidarity.

You smiled, playing along, but your mind was elsewhere. You could still feel Logan’s presence, could still hear that damn voice in the back of your head—the one that had spent years growling half-muttered words against your skin, the one that had whispered "this is the last time" more times than you could count.

You needed air.

"I’m getting another drink," you announced, standing up. "Anyone need anything?"

A chorus of "I’m good" followed, and you nodded, making your way toward the bar. You weren’t going to him. You were just getting a drink. That was it.

Except, of course, Logan made sure that wasn’t it.

By the time you reached the bar, he’d shifted, positioned just close enough that you couldn’t ignore him without making it obvious.

"Sweetheart," Logan greeted, voice low.

You exhaled sharply, bracing yourself. "Logan."

He glanced toward your table, his eyes lingering on Theodore for half a second before he turned back to you. "Didn’t think I’d see you here tonight."

You shot him a look. "Seriously?"

Logan smirked slightly, taking a slow sip of his whiskey. "What? Ain’t allowed to make an observation?"

You huffed, signaling to the bartender for another beer. "You showing up at this bar three Fridays in a row isn’t an observation, Logan. It’s a pattern."

He tilted his head, considering that. "Maybe I just like the whiskey here."

"Bullshit," you muttered.

Logan chuckled, shaking his head. "You always had a way with words."

Someone else came by your side, Theo. He ordered another beer from the bartender. “Who’s this, angel?”

Logan let out a quiet snort, as you leveled him with a sharp glare. “This is Logan. An old friend. He’s in town for a little while.”

Theodore extended a hand, ever polite. “Nice to meet you, Logan.”

Logan took it, his grip firm but brief. “Yeah.” His tone was flat, his expression unreadable as he let go.

The bartender set Theo’s beer down, and he gave you a small smile. “I’ll head back. Don’t take too long, angel.”

Your jaw clenched at the nickname, and Logan caught it. You could feel his eyes on you as Theo walked back to the table, completely unaware of the tension still crackling in the air.

The second Theo was out of earshot, Logan’s lips curled into something close to a smirk. “Angel, huh?”

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head as you grabbed your drink. “Don’t.”

Logan chuckled, leaning an elbow against the bar. “Didn’t peg you for the type to go for that kinda thing.”

You shot him a look. “I’m not.”

Logan hummed, slow and considering, taking a sip of his whiskey. “So, what—you just let him call you that?”

You crossed your arms, fingers tapping against the cool glass of your beer. “It’s a nickname, Logan. People use ‘em.”

His smirk deepened. “Yeah, but you hate that one.”

You bristled, annoyed that he remembered, annoyed that he was right. “Not your business.”

Logan tilted his head slightly, studying you with that sharp, unreadable gaze. “Guess not.”

You rolled your shoulders, trying to shake the tension from them. “Why are you even here, Logan?”

“Just gettin’ a drink,” he said, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “Right. And it just so happens to be the fourth Friday in a row you’ve shown up to this exact bar?”

Logan didn’t respond immediately, just swirled the whiskey in his glass, watching you over the rim as he took another sip. “You always did like playin’ detective.”

You scoffed, setting your beer down on the bar a little harder than necessary. “Yeah, well, you always did like avoidin’ questions.”

Logan exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair before setting his drink down. “Ain’t got an answer you wanna hear, sweetheart.”

Your stomach twisted at the way he said it—low, familiar, like it always had been. You shook it off, straightening. “Try me.”

Logan met your gaze, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, just held your stare, like he was weighing his words.

Then, finally, he sighed. “Saw you that first night. Thought it’d be a one-time thing.” He shrugged, tapping his fingers against his glass. “Then I kept comin’ back.”

Your breath hitched slightly, but you didn’t let it show. “Why? You could’ve had any girl you wanted. Hell, you probably did when you weren’t with me.”

Logan’s brows pulled together, his grip tightening around his glass. His jaw tensed, a flicker of something sharp flashing behind his eyes. Not anger—something else.

“You think I was sleepin’ with other girls?” His voice was rough, low, like he wasn’t sure if he was pissed or just hurt.

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the way he said it. Like the idea itself was absurd.

“I mean… yeah,” you admitted, shrugging like it was obvious. “Why wouldn’t you be?”

Logan let out a sharp breath through his nose, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I never did.”

You frowned. “Logan—”

“I didn’t,” he cut in, voice firm. “Not when I was in town. Not when I wasn’t.”

That made you pause. You searched his face, waiting for some sign that he was messing with you, but there was nothing. Just that same unreadable expression, jaw locked tight, fingers flexing around the glass like he was resisting the urge to break it.

“C’mon,” you said, trying to laugh it off. “You don’t gotta lie about it.”

Logan’s eyes darkened, his whole body going still. “I ain’t lyin’.”

Your stomach twisted, something uneasy settling in your chest. You had never really thought about it before—what he was doing when he wasn’t with you. It never seemed like something that mattered. He was Logan. He could have any woman he wanted. He didn’t do relationships, didn’t do commitment, and you’d made peace with that a long time ago.

It never crossed your mind that maybe… he hadn’t been with anyone else.

You swallowed hard. “Logan, we weren’t… it wasn’t—”

“I know what it was,” he said, voice rough. “But that didn’t mean I was out screwin’ around with other women.” He shook his head, exhaling sharply. “What, you really think I could just go from you to someone else like it was nothin’?”

You weren’t sure how to answer that. Because yeah, that’s exactly what you thought. Not because you were naive—because it made sense. Because that’s what people did when there were no strings attached.

But Logan wasn’t just people, was he?

You stared at him, fingers tightening around your beer. “You really expect me to believe that?”

Logan huffed, shaking his head. “Believe whatever the hell you want, sweetheart. Don’t change the truth.”

You looked away, suddenly feeling like the air in the bar was too thick, like there wasn’t enough space between the two of you.

“You really never—?” you started, but the words got stuck in your throat.

“No,” Logan said, firm, final. “Not then. Not since.”

You snapped your head up, eyes narrowing. “What?”

Logan rolled his shoulders like the weight of this conversation was starting to settle into his bones. “Ain’t been with anyone since the last time with you.”

You let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. “That was a year and a half ago, Logan.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, gaze dropping to his whiskey. “I know.”

You opened your mouth, then shut it again, completely at a loss for words. Because this didn’t make sense. It wasn’t how this worked. You weren’t supposed to be the one he was thinking about when he was gone.

And yet, here he was.

“Why?” The word left your mouth before you could stop it.

Logan’s eyes flicked up to meet yours, and for the first time, there was no guard, no deflection. Just honesty.

“You really gotta ask?”

Your heart pounded against your ribs, fingers clenching around your glass. You wanted to look away, wanted to pretend like you didn’t know exactly what he meant. But you did. You always had.

“Logan…”

Whatever you were about to say—whatever you were about to do—it didn’t matter. Because just then, Theodore’s voice called from the table.

“Y/N? You good?”

Your breath hitched, your stomach twisting painfully. Logan exhaled through his nose, leaning back slightly as you turned toward the sound.

Theodore was watching you from across the bar, brow raised in concern. He didn’t look suspicious—just curious.

You forced a smile, lifting your beer in a casual wave. “Yeah! Just got caught up talkin’.”

Theodore nodded, accepting the answer without hesitation. “Alright. Just come back before Lindsay starts plotting a wedding seating chart for us.”

You laughed, shaking your head as he turned back to the table. But the second your face fell out of his sight, your expression dropped.

Logan was watching you, jaw set tight. “That your future, then?”

You swallowed hard. “What?”

He gestured loosely toward Theodore. “That.”

You hesitated, fingers drumming against your beer. “Maybe.”

Logan huffed out a quiet, humorless laugh. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

You turned back to him, brow furrowed. “And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Logan didn’t answer right away. He just took another sip of whiskey, his eyes unreadable. Then, after a long pause, he sighed.

“It means I should probably stop comin’ here.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “Logan—”

He pushed his chair back, standing up with that same slow, deliberate ease he always had. He pulled a few bills from his pocket, tossing them on the bar before grabbing his jacket.

“This ain’t how it’s supposed to go,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “Ain’t how I want it to go.”

You stared at him, heart pounding. “Then how do you want it to go?”

Logan looked at you then, really looked at you, and for a second, you thought he might actually say it. Might actually tell you the truth that had been sitting between the two of you for years.

But then he just shook his head.

“Doesn’t matter,” he muttered. “Ain’t my place anymore.”

And with that, he turned and walked away.

You sat there, staring at the empty spot he left behind, your fingers clenched tight around your beer, your chest aching in a way you didn’t want to acknowledge.

Because maybe Logan was right. Maybe it wasn’t supposed to go like this. But it had. And now, you weren’t sure if you wanted to change it.

---

It had been a month.

A month of quiet Friday nights. A month of sitting at the bar, knowing Logan wouldn’t show. A month of telling yourself that was a good thing.

Theodore never questioned why you seemed a little more present lately, a little more grounded when you were with him. He just smiled, laced his fingers through yours, and kept on with his usual steady way of being. If he noticed that something had shifted in you, that you were suddenly paying more attention—like you were trying to convince yourself of something—he didn’t mention it.

And that should’ve been enough.

Except, apparently, your subconscious had other plans.

Because Logan still showed up when you weren’t expecting him—just not in person. He was there when you caught yourself glancing at the bar out of habit. When you heard a rough voice in a crowd that sounded just like his. When you slipped into bed at night, Theodore’s arm draped over your waist, and your mind wandered somewhere else before you could stop it.

What was even worse was when Theo’s lips pressed against yours, you found yourself reminiscing and wishing it was longer. Rougher.

You could almost feel it, the way Logan’s hands would grip your hips, rough and demanding. The way his lips would crash against yours like he had something to prove, something he could never quite put into words. Logan never kissed soft. He never kissed slow. He kissed like he was trying to steal the breath from your lungs, like he needed it more than you did.

And then there were the dreams.

They weren’t dramatic, weren’t nightmares or anything like that. But they were there. Sometimes they were memories—bare skin, tangled sheets, the weight of Logan’s hands on your body. Sometimes they weren’t. Sometimes it was just him, sitting at that damn bar, watching you with that unreadable expression, the one that always felt like it was waiting for something.

You never told Theodore.

You weren’t a cheater. You weren’t some tragic, conflicted woman caught between two men. You had a boyfriend—a good, kind, intelligent man who cared about you, who wanted the same things you did. Who deserved better than a girlfriend who was lying awake at night, staring at the ceiling, thinking about someone else.

So, you tried to push it down.

You focused on work. You spent time with your friends. You leaned into your relationship with Theodore, let yourself get lost in the easy rhythm of it.

Until one day you were at work, sitting at your office going through design files for the company’s next project. Amber knocked on your door. “Uh, hey. There’s a guy here. Says he’s lookin’ for you.” You frowned as she continued. “It’s… not Theodore. Some guy in a leather jacket. Broody. Kinda hot.”

You frowned, setting down your pen. “Did he say his name?”

Amber shrugged. “Nope. Just asked for you.” She tilted her head, smirking slightly. “But I don’t think he’s here about a job, unless we’re suddenly hiring guys who look like they walked straight out of a biker movie.”

Your stomach twisted. You didn’t need a name. You already knew. Logan. You exhaled slowly, schooling your expression into something neutral. “Where is he?”

Amber nodded toward the front. “Lobby. Want me to tell him you’re busy?”

You hesitated. The smart move—the easy move—would be to say yes. Let her turn him away, pretend like he hadn’t shown up, like he wasn’t suddenly standing in the middle of your carefully built life.

But this was Logan. And ignoring him had never been an option.

You pushed back from your desk, standing. “No. I got it.”

Amber grinned. “Figured. Good luck.”

You rolled your eyes, brushing past her as you made your way down the hall, your pulse picking up with every step.

By the time you reached the lobby, you spotted him instantly.

Logan stood near the front desk, arms crossed, his stance casual but unmistakably solid, like he owned whatever space he stood in. His leather jacket was the same as always—worn, familiar—and his boots were planted like he wasn’t moving until he got what he came for.

His eyes met yours the second you stepped into view.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

Then you exhaled, schooling your features as you crossed the room. “Really?”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “What?”

You stopped in front of him, crossing your arms. “You show up here?”

Logan shrugged. “Needed to talk.”

“In the middle of my workday?”

“Figured it was the best way to make sure you didn’t ignore me.”

You huffed, glancing around. A few of your coworkers were pretending not to stare, their curiosity thinly veiled. You grabbed Logan’s arm, steering him toward the hallway.

“My office,” you muttered. “Now.”

Logan smirked, but he didn’t argue.

---

Once the door shut behind you, you rounded on him. “What the hell, Logan?”

He didn’t flinch, just watched you with that steady, unreadable look. “Been a month.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Since I walked outta that bar,” he clarified. “Since I told you I should stop showin’ up.”

You crossed your arms tighter, shifting your weight. “And yet, here you are.”

Logan exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “Yeah. Here I am.”

Silence stretched between you.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Logan, I have work to do. If you’re just here to—”

“I ain’t been able to stop thinkin’ about you.”

Your breath caught.

Logan took a step closer, voice lower now. “Tried, sweetheart. Thought if I gave you space, let you have your life, it’d be enough. That I could just… let it go.” His jaw flexed. “But I can’t.”

Your fingers curled at your sides. “Logan…”

“I know you’re with him,” he went on, like he hadn’t heard you. “And I ain’t askin’ you to change that. But I need you to tell me, right now—” He met your eyes, gaze sharp, intense. “Do you love him?”

You swallowed hard.

“Yes,” you said automatically.

Logan’s expression didn’t change. “You sure?”

You hesitated.

Logan caught it. His shoulders squared, something flickering behind his eyes. “Thought so.”

You let out a sharp breath, frustration and something else curling tight in your chest. “What do you want from me, Logan?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, voice rough. “But I know what I don’t want. And that’s spendin’ the rest of my damn life wonderin’ if I should’ve fought harder for you.”

Your heart pounded.

Logan stepped closer, close enough that the scent of whiskey and leather filled the space between you. “So, tell me, sweetheart. You want me to walk out that door again? Say the word, and I will.”

Your throat was dry. Your pulse was a hammer against your ribs.

This was it. The moment to make a choice.

The problem was, you weren’t sure which one you wanted to make. You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

Because what the hell were you supposed to say?

That you didn’t want him to leave? That you had spent the last month trying to forget the way his voice had stuck in your head, the way his words had clung to your skin like an old habit? That no matter how many times you told yourself you had moved on, there was still a part of you—small, buried deep—that wondered if maybe, just maybe, Logan had been right?

That you weren’t as happy as you pretended to be?

Logan exhaled, slow and measured, watching you. Then, just as you were about to force some kind of answer, he took a step back.

“That’s what I thought,” he muttered, jaw tight.

Something in your chest twisted.

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “You can’t just show up here and—”

“And what?” Logan cut in, his voice rough. “Make you question shit?”

Your breath hitched.

Logan tilted his head slightly, eyes sharp. “Or did you already have questions before I even walked through that door?”

Your fingers curled at your sides, your pulse hammering. “That’s not—”

“Just say it, sweetheart,” Logan said, stepping toward you again, voice lower now. “Say you don’t want me, and I’ll go.”

You should’ve said it. It would’ve been so damn easy. But you didn’t.

And Logan saw it.

His gaze flickered—something shifting in his expression, something that made your stomach twist. Then, before you could stop him, before you could even think—

Logan kissed you.

It wasn’t careful, wasn’t hesitant. It was rough, desperate, like he’d been holding himself back for too long and finally let it all snap. His hands curled around your waist, pulling you against him like he wasn’t willing to leave an inch of space between you.

You gasped, your fingers instinctively gripping the front of his jacket. You should’ve pulled away. You knew that. But instead, you found yourself pressing into him, your body moving on instinct, your lips parting against his.

It felt too familiar, too natural. Like muscle memory. Like something you were never meant to forget.

Logan’s hands tightened on your waist, his mouth claiming yours like he was trying to make up for lost time. He kissed you the way he always had—without hesitation, without restraint. He kissed like he wanted to consume you, like he needed you the same way he needed air.

And god help you, you let him.

Your back hit the desk, Logan crowding you against it, his fingers pressing into your hips, his body a solid wall against yours. He groaned into your mouth, one hand threading into your hair, tilting your head back so he could kiss you deeper.

Your heart was pounding so hard you thought it might burst.

But reality came crashing in too soon. You pulled away from Logan, your hands pressing against his chest and your lips swollen. “W—wait. I—I’m not a cheater, big guy. I can’t… I can’t do this.”

Logan didn’t move right away. He stood there, his hands still hovering near your waist, his breathing heavy. His lips were parted slightly, still wet from the kiss, and his brows were drawn together, unreadable. But then, after a long moment, he exhaled sharply through his nose and muttered, "good."

You blinked, your breath still uneven. "What?"

Logan stepped back, dragging a hand through his hair before settling his sharp gaze on you. "I said good." His voice was rough, but not angry. Just… certain.

Your head was spinning, your fingers curling against the edge of your desk for something to hold onto. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Logan huffed, shaking his head like he was trying to shake off something heavier than just this moment. "Means if you were mine, I’d hope you’d have the same damn reaction."

Your stomach twisted, the weight of his words sinking in faster than you could process. "Logan—"

He held up a hand, stopping whatever excuse or explanation you were about to force out. "Nah. You don’t gotta say nothin’." He sighed, rolling his shoulders like he was trying to ease some kind of tension that had settled deep in his bones. "You got a guy. You pulled away. That’s the right thing to do."

You swallowed hard. "Then why does it feel like you just won something?"

Logan let out a dry, humorless chuckle. "Ain’t won a damn thing, sweetheart." His eyes flicked to yours, steady and sure. "Just wanted to know."

"Know what?"

"If you’d hesitate."

Your fingers twitched against the desk, heat creeping up your neck. "You’re an asshole."

Logan smirked, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Yeah. But at least now I know what I’m up against."

You opened your mouth to fire back, but he was already turning toward the door, grabbing his jacket off the back of the chair where he’d tossed it.

"You can’t just—"

"Just what?" Logan asked, glancing at you over his shoulder. "Pretend that didn’t happen? Act like it don’t mean nothin’?" He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "That’s your thing, sweetheart. Not mine."

Your chest tightened, your pulse pounding. "Logan—"

"See you around," he muttered, pushing open the door and walking out.

And just like that, he was gone. Again. But this time, it didn’t feel like an ending. It felt like a goddamn challenge.

---

You tried convincing yourself more times than you thought possible. Every time you kissed Theodore you wondered why it was so short, only to open your eyes to find him instead of Logan.

Theodore took you on a date on Saturday and you played the perfect girlfriend. He didn’t suspect a thing. You supposed that’s a good thing, but the kiss between you and Logan lingered in the back of your mind.

You cheated.

Sure, it was just a kiss, but it felt like a whole lot more than just a kiss.

And worst of all? Your dreams were more vivid, more frequent. You’d wake up in the middle of the night with a certain heat prickling under your skin. The first few nights you ignored it. The next night you tried to start something with Theodore but he was either tired or didn’t catch on to your advances.

So, you were laying in bed, looking up at the ceiling with hot skin and a pulsing coming from below.

Theodore was next to you, sound asleep, his soft breathing steady in the quiet room. You shifted under the covers, squeezing your thighs together, but it didn’t help. It never helped. Your body knew what it wanted, even if your mind screamed at you to forget, to push it away, to move the fuck on.

But that was the thing, wasn’t it? You hadn’t moved on.

Your fingers twitched against the sheets as you exhaled sharply, eyes fluttering shut. You shouldn’t be thinking about this. Shouldn’t be thinking about him. But your body had other plans.

You swallowed hard, your free hand slowly trailing down your stomach, slipping beneath the waistband of your sleep shorts. Just to take the edge off, just enough to be able to sleep. That was all.

Except the moment your fingertips brushed against yourself, slick and warm, a memory—perhaps a vision—slammed into you so hard you almost gasped out loud.

"Missed me, sweetheart?"

Your breath stuttered, fingers pressing in deeper as Logan’s voice filled your head, rough and low, the way he used to sound when he had you right where he wanted you.

"Bet you did," he’d rasp, mouth at your ear, teeth grazing your skin. "Bet you missed my hands on you. Bet that little boyfriend of yours doesn’t even know how to touch you the way you like."

A quiet whimper escaped your lips, your body reacting to the phantom sensation of his hands—rough, calloused, skilled—dragging down your spine, gripping your hips, yanking you back against him like he owned you.

God. Fuck.

You shouldn’t be doing this. Shouldn’t be letting yourself fall back into the past. But your body didn’t give a damn about what you should be doing. Your body wanted Logan.

"C’mon, sweetheart. Show me how much you missed me."

Your thighs trembled as you obeyed a voice that wasn’t really there, your breath coming out in soft, uneven gasps. Logan had never been gentle, never been the kind of man to hold back when he wanted something. And when it came to you, he had always wanted.

"That’s it, darlin’," he’d growl, voice thick with approval. "So fuckin’ good for me."

Your fingers moved faster, your body arching, chasing a release you weren’t sure you deserved. But you were too far gone to stop now. Too lost in the memory of Logan’s voice, Logan’s hands, Logan’s fucking mouth—

And then it hit. Your body tightened, a soft moan slipping past your lips before you could stop it. Your breath shuddered as your release washed over you, warmth spreading through your limbs, pleasure curling in your stomach.

For a moment, you just lay there, your body still twitching from the aftershocks, your mind hazy, spent.

But then the guilt crept in, slow and insidious. You turned your head, looking at Theodore beside you. Peaceful. Unaware. Your stomach twisted.

What the hell were you doing?

---

You called an emergency meeting with Lindsay and Veronica, meeting them during your lunch break at a small café.

“What’s so urgent? Even your texts seemed desperate.” Veronica said, sitting down.

“Yeah. I was a little worried. You’re not dyin’ or anything, are you?” Lindsay asked.

You were going to ease them into it, say everything that had been happening since Logan came back into your life. But then you blurted out, “I thought about Logan. When I masturbated.” You grimaced, “while Theo was sleeping next to me.”

Lindsay choked on her drink. “Jesus Christ, Y/N.”

Veronica, to her credit, barely reacted—just raised an eyebrow as she set her coffee down. “Well,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “That’s a hell of a way to start a conversation.”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “I know, okay? I know it’s bad.”

“Bad?” Lindsay wheezed, still recovering. “It’s fucking terrible. Like, impressively terrible.”

Veronica tilted her head. “Depends.”

Lindsay turned to her, eyes wide. “Depends? On what? She just admitted to thinkin’ about another guy while her boyfriend was sleeping next to her. That’s, like, Olympic-level cheating.”

You winced. “I didn’t actually do anything with Logan, though.”

“Oh, sure,” Lindsay deadpanned. “You just had a whole-ass fantasy about him while getting yourself off in the same bed as Theodore. That’s so much better.”

Veronica hummed, stirring her drink. “Okay, but it’s not like she did it on purpose.”

Lindsay scoffed. “Oh, yeah, I’m sure it was just an accident.” She mimicked you in a mockingly high-pitched voice. “Oops, my hand slipped, and whoops, now I’m picturing Logan whispering filthy shit in my ear—”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you snapped, your face burning. “Can we not say it out loud?”

Veronica smirked. “Bit late for that.”

Lindsay pointed a finger at you. “I’m just sayin’, if the roles were reversed—if Theodore was jerkin’ it to, I don’t know, Megan Fox or whatever while you were sleeping next to him—how would you feel?”

You frowned. That wasn’t exactly a fair comparison. “Megan Fox is a celebrity. Logan is… Logan.”

“Exactly,” Lindsay said. “That makes it worse.”

Veronica exhaled. “Okay, let’s just—let’s break this down for a second.” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “One, Logan was gone for over a year, and you moved on. That’s not a crime.”

“Thank you,” you muttered.

“Two,” Veronica continued, “he comes back, you try to ignore it, but then you kiss him in your office.”

“Okay, but I stopped it,” you said quickly. “I told him I wasn’t a cheater.”

Lindsay made a face. “And then immediately proceeded to have an orgasm to the thought of him.”

You groaned. “Would you shut up?”

“Not likely,” she said cheerfully.

Veronica ignored her. “So, what does that tell you?”

“That I’m a terrible person?” you offered weakly.

She rolled her eyes. “That you still have feelings for Logan.”

You flinched. “It’s not that simple.”

Lindsay scoffed. “Sure it is.”

“No, it’s not,” you insisted. “Because Logan doesn’t do relationships. He never has. He just… shows up, fucks me, and leaves. That’s how it’s always been.”

“Except now it isn’t,” Veronica pointed out. “Now he’s showing up at bars and your job and kissing you like he actually gives a damn.”

“Yeah,” Lindsay added, “and now he’s admitting he didn’t fuck anyone else while he was gone. Which, I gotta say, is wild. You know how hot he is? He could’ve had anyone.”

You shot her a look. “Not helping.”

She shrugged. “I’m just saying, the man is unreasonably attractive. If I had a dollar for every time I thought about climbing him like a tree—”

“Lindsay,” you warned.

She grinned. “Relax, I wouldn’t actually do it. I respect you too much. And also, I like my limbs intact.”

Veronica sighed. “Look, the real question is—what do you want?”

You hesitated, gripping your coffee cup a little tighter. “I don’t know.”

“Bullshit,” Lindsay said immediately. “You know.”

Veronica nodded. “Yeah. You do.”

You swallowed hard. “I want… I want things to be simple.”

Lindsay snorted. “Yeah, well, too fucking bad.”

Veronica gave you a pointed look. “Do you love Theodore?”

You stiffened. “I—”

“Y/N.”

You exhaled slowly. “I care about him.”

Lindsay let out a sharp breath. “Oof. That’s a no.”

Veronica hummed. “And Logan?”

You shook your head quickly. “I don’t know. I mean, we’ve never—he’s never—”

“Doesn’t matter what he’s said or hasn’t said,” Veronica cut in. “You. How do you feel?”

You stared at the table. “I don’t know.”

Lindsay made a face. “Okay, let me put it this way—when you think about a future, like marriage, kids, the whole thing, who do you picture?”

Your stomach twisted.

Because Theodore made sense. He was stable, reliable. He wanted marriage, wanted kids. You knew exactly what life would look like with him.

But Logan…

Logan was chaos. He was unpredictable. He was full of sharp edges and impossible contradictions, but when you were with him, it felt like the only thing in the world that made sense.

And that scared the shit out of you.

Lindsay saw the look on your face and groaned. “Jesus Christ. It’s him, isn’t it?”

You hesitated.

Veronica sighed. “It’s him.”

You let out a quiet, defeated sound, dropping your head onto the table. “Fuck.”

Lindsay patted your shoulder. “Yeah. You’re fucked.”

You raised your head, rubbing your eyes. “I don’t know what to do. Our one year anniversary is coming up in a week and… I feel like breaking it off would be shitty of me.”

Lindsay let out a sharp breath, shaking her head. "Girl, what’s shittier—breaking up with him before the anniversary, or waiting until after and making it even worse?"

Veronica hummed, tapping a finger against her cup. "She has a point. If you already know this isn’t gonna last, dragging it out just because of a date on the calendar doesn’t make it any better."

You groaned, dragging your hands down your face. "I don’t know anything. That’s the problem."

Lindsay snorted. "Bullshit. You know you don’t love Theodore the way you’re supposed to. You know you’ve been thinking about Logan way too much for it to mean nothing. And you definitely know that keeping this up is unfair to both of you."

You sighed, your stomach twisting. "It’s just… Theo’s a good guy. He treats me well. We have a good thing."

"But it’s not the thing," Veronica said simply.

You hesitated.

Lindsay leaned forward, resting her chin in her palm. "Look, I get it. Theodore’s safe. He’s stable. He’s everything Logan isn’t. But that doesn’t mean he’s what you want."

Veronica nodded. "And if he’s not, then the kindest thing you can do is let him go before it gets worse."

You exhaled slowly, staring at your coffee like it might have the answers. "I don’t even know how to start that conversation."

"Simple," Lindsay said. "You sit him down and say, ‘Theo, you’re great, but I’m in love with someone else.’"

Your stomach clenched. "I never said I was in love with Logan."

Veronica gave you a look. "You didn’t have to."

You opened your mouth to argue but stopped yourself. Because what was the point? They were right. Even if you didn’t want to admit it.

Lindsay smirked. "So? When are you gonna do it?"

You groaned, leaning back in your chair. "Fuck, I don’t know. Tonight?"

Veronica nodded approvingly. "Good. Rip the bandaid off."

Lindsay raised her cup like a toast. "To making terrible decisions slightly less terrible."

You sighed, clinking your cup against hers. "To hoping this doesn’t completely blow up in my face."

Neither of them argued with you. Because, really, what were the odds of that?

---

You spent the whole drive home rehearsing different ways to say it.

"Theo, we need to talk."

"I think we should break up."

"You deserve someone who loves you the way you love me."

None of it sounded right. None of it felt like enough.

When you pulled into the driveway, you just sat there for a moment, gripping the steering wheel, trying to steady your breathing. You’d never had to do this before. Never had to be the one to hurt someone like this.

But Lindsay and Veronica were right. It was the only fair thing to do.

You walked inside, dropping your bag by the door. Theodore was sitting on the couch, grading papers with his reading glasses on—so domestic, so normal. The sight of it made your stomach twist.

"Hey, angel," he greeted, looking up with a small smile. "How was lunch?"

You swallowed hard. Now or never.

"Theo, we need to talk."

His smile faded slightly, brow furrowing. He set his papers down. "That sounds serious."

You nodded, exhaling slowly. "It is."

He sat up straighter, concern flickering in his eyes. "What’s wrong?"

You hesitated, trying to find the right words. But in the end, you just said it.

"I think we should break up."

The silence that followed was suffocating. Theodore stared at you, blinking like he wasn’t sure he heard you right.

"...What?"

You took a deep breath. "I—I don’t think this is working. Not the way it should. And it’s not fair to you."

The hurt that flashed across his face made you want to crawl into a hole. "Y/N, where is this coming from? I thought we were good."

"We are good," you admitted, your voice tight. "But that’s just it. It’s… good. And you deserve more than just good."

His jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists against his knees. "Is there someone else?"

Your stomach twisted. You could lie. You could say no, make this easier. But after everything, what was the point?

You nodded.

Theodore exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Logan."

It wasn’t a question.

You swallowed, guilt sinking into your chest. "It’s complicated."

Theodore scoffed. "No, I think it’s pretty fucking simple."

You winced. "Theo, I didn’t plan for this to happen. I never wanted to hurt you."

"But you did." His voice was quiet, but the weight of it hit like a punch. "You are."

You looked down, fingers twisting together. "I know."

Theodore sighed, rubbing his temples. "God. I should’ve seen this coming."

You frowned. "What?"

He let out a humorless laugh. "You think I didn’t notice? The way you’ve been off the last few weeks? The way you never talk about your past, but he shows up, and suddenly it’s like you’re somewhere else half the time?" He shook his head. "I wanted to believe it was just my imagination. That maybe I was overthinking it."

You swallowed hard, guilt clawing at your throat. "I’m sorry."

He exhaled through his nose, leaning back against the couch, staring at the ceiling. "Yeah. Me too."

The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating.

Then Theodore nodded once, more to himself than to you. "Alright," he muttered. "I’ll get my things tomorrow."

You flinched. "You don’t have to—"

"I do," he said firmly. "I can’t be here. Not right now."

You nodded, throat tight. "I understand."

Theodore stood, grabbing his coat from the chair. He didn’t look at you as he made his way to the door. But just before he left, he paused, his hand on the knob.

"Do you love him?"

You inhaled sharply, your chest aching. "I don’t know."

Theodore let out a quiet, bitter laugh. "Yeah," he murmured. "You do."

And then he walked out.

You stood there, staring at the door long after it shut, your heart pounding, your stomach twisted in knots. Because Theodore was right.

You did.

---

A few days after the breakup you were back at the bar, hoping to see Logan sitting at the counter like he always was.

Except he wasn’t.

He wasn’t there at all that night. Or next week. Or the week after that.

Soon you felt an overwhelming sense of dread. You gave up an almost year long relationship for this? For someone who bails just like that?

No whiskey-soaked presence at the bar. No brooding figure lurking at the counter. No sharp, teasing remarks thrown your way like he was testing the waters, waiting for you to snap back.

Nothing.

At first, you told yourself it didn’t matter. You had bigger things to deal with—like the fact that you’d ended an almost-year-long relationship because your heart had never really been in it. You spent the first few days in a haze of guilt, replaying the conversation with Theodore in your head until the words felt hollow.

But as time passed, guilt gave way to something else.

Annoyance. Frustration. A creeping, uncomfortable feeling that settled in your stomach every time you walked into that damn bar and saw nothing but strangers.

You had given up a stable, easy, safe relationship for this? For some asshole who had spent weeks trying to shake your resolve, only to disappear the second you actually did something about it?

It wasn’t like you expected Logan to come kicking in your door the second he found out you were single. But showing up at the bar, maybe? Letting you know he was still around? Something?

But no. Apparently, that wasn’t his style.

And now, you were left sitting at the bar alone on a Friday night, swirling the remnants of your drink in your glass, scowling at the whiskey like it had personally wronged you.

“You look pissed.”

You glanced up to find Lindsay sliding onto the stool next to you, waving down the bartender for a drink. She gave you a pointed look. “Lemme guess. He’s still a no-show?���

You exhaled through your nose, setting your glass down with a quiet clink. “It’s been a month.”

Lindsay hummed. “So, what? You finally ready to admit you got played?”

You shot her a glare. “I didn’t get played.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you, though? Guy waltzes back into your life, screws with your head, gets you all twisted up—then bails the second you actually do something about it? Sounds like getting played to me.”

Your fingers curled against the bar. “He’s not like that.”

Lindsay scoffed, taking a sip of her drink. “Yeah? Then what the hell is he like? ‘Cause from where I’m sitting, he seems like exactly that kind of guy.”

You didn’t have an answer for that. Because, honestly? You were starting to wonder the same damn thing.

With a sigh, you leaned back against the stool, rubbing your temples. “I just don’t get it. He spent weeks stirring shit up. He kissed me. He told me he hadn’t been with anyone since me. And now, nothing?”

Lindsay shrugged. “Maybe he changed his mind.”

The words hit harder than you wanted to admit.

You pressed your lips into a tight line, staring down at your drink. Was that it? Had Logan just… decided you weren’t worth the trouble? Maybe all that talk, all those lingering stares, had been nothing more than a moment of weakness for him. Maybe he had walked out of your office, taken a deep breath, and realized he didn’t actually want you the way you thought he did.

And maybe you were the biggest fucking fool on the planet for ever believing otherwise.

Lindsay must have caught the look on your face because her expression softened—just slightly. “Look, maybe I’m wrong. Maybe he’ll show up next week, or next month, and give you some broody, cryptic speech about why he disappeared. Or maybe he won’t.” She took another sip of her drink, setting it down with a small shrug. “Either way, you gotta decide how long you’re willing to sit around waiting for him.”

You exhaled slowly, your grip tightening around your glass.

How long were you willing to wait?

And more importantly—if Logan did come back, were you still going to let him in?

---

Another week passed. Then another.

By the time Friday rolled around again, you had already told yourself you weren’t going to go to the bar. What was the point? Sitting there, scanning the room for a man who clearly had no interest in showing up? You were done wasting your time.

And yet, somehow, you still found yourself standing at the counter of the damn place, staring at the entrance like it held all the answers to your stupid, tangled-up feelings.

You sighed. This was pathetic.

But then you saw him walking down the street, not even turning the corner towards the bar. You chugged the rest of your beer and paid for it before stepping out into the pouring rain, not bothering to take your umbrella out of your bag.

“Logan!”

The rain pounded against the pavement, soaking through your clothes within seconds. But you didn’t care.

“Logan!” you called again, your voice carrying through the empty street.

Logan stopped mid-step, his shoulders tensing. He didn’t turn right away, just stood there, letting the rain drip from his hair, his leather jacket already darkened from the downpour. Then, finally, he glanced over his shoulder, eyes catching yours.

You didn’t hesitate. You stalked toward him, rain streaming down your face, your pulse hammering. He didn’t move, didn’t say a damn thing, just watched you with that same unreadable expression he always had when he was deciding whether to stay or walk away.

Not this time.

“What the hell, Logan?” You shoved him—hard. He barely budged, but you did it anyway. “Where the fuck have you been?”

Logan exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his soaked hair. “Told you I should stop comin’ around.”

“Oh, right,” you snapped. “That’s why you disappeared completely? After all that shit you pulled? You just decided you were done?”

Logan’s jaw tightened. “What’d you expect me to do, sweetheart? Stick around, watch you play house with him?”

“I expected you to not be a goddamn coward!”

Logan’s eyes darkened, a flicker of something sharp passing over his face. “Watch it.”

“Or what?” You stepped closer, rain dripping from your chin. “You gonna leave again? ‘Cause that’s what you do, isn’t it? You show up, you shake everything up, and then you fucking leave. That’s your thing.”

Logan didn’t answer.

You let out a harsh, bitter laugh, shaking your head. “You spent weeks making me question everything. And the second I finally make a choice, you disappear. What the hell was the point of all that, Logan? What did you want?”

His nostrils flared. “Doesn’t matter.”

You shoved him again. This time, he caught your wrist.

“The hell it doesn’t,” you growled, yanking your arm back. “You don’t get to just walk away from this, from me, like none of it meant anything.”

Logan exhaled through his nose, slow and controlled. “Ain’t what I meant.”

You scoffed, shoving your wet hair back. “Then what did you mean?”

Logan was silent for a long moment. Then, finally, he said, “You broke up with him.”

Your stomach clenched. “Yeah. I did.”

His jaw worked, his gaze flicking over your face like he was searching for something. “Why?”

You let out a sharp breath, shaking your head. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Why?” Logan pressed, his voice rough, low.

You stepped even closer, your chest almost brushing his. “Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you, asshole. Because every time he touched me, I wanted it to be you. Because I spent every goddamn night staring at my ceiling, wondering if I made the wrong choice.” Your voice cracked slightly, but you didn’t stop. “Because I wanted you.”

Logan’s whole body went still. His fingers twitched at his sides like he wanted to reach for something—reach for you—but he held himself back. His jaw clenched, his eyes searching yours for any sign that you were messing with him, that this was just some cruel, twisted joke.

But it wasn’t.

Your chest rose and fell with quick, uneven breaths, your heart pounding so damn loud you swore he could hear it over the pouring rain.

“You wanted me,” Logan repeated, his voice low, rough.

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “Yeah, asshole. That’s what I just said.”

Logan’s lips pressed into a thin line. His hands curled into fists at his sides, like he was physically stopping himself from reaching out. “So, what?” he muttered, his voice gruff. “You break it off with him and come lookin’ for me? That how this works?”

You scoffed, rain dripping from your hair as you shot him a glare. “Oh, fuck you, Logan. You spent weeks screwing with my head, getting under my skin, making me question everything, and then you left. You don’t get to stand here now and act like I’m the one chasing you.”

Logan exhaled, running a hand down his rain-soaked face. “I had to leave, sweetheart.”

“Bullshit.”

His eyes flicked up, sharp and unrelenting. “You were in a relationship.”

Your breath hitched, anger and something deeper curling tight in your stomach. “You didn’t give a damn about that when you kissed me.”

Logan flinched. Just barely. But you caught it.

You took a shaky breath, lowering your voice. “I told you I wasn’t a cheater, and I meant it. But you knew what you were doing when you kissed me. And you knew what it meant.”

Logan’s jaw flexed. He looked away for a second, like he needed to gather himself, like he needed to wrestle down whatever war was happening in his head.

Then, after a long pause, he finally said, “That’s why I left.”

You swallowed hard. “What?”

Logan exhaled sharply. “Because if I stayed—if I saw you every damn week, sittin’ next to him, smiling at him, being with him—” He shook his head. “I wouldn’t’ve stopped, sweetheart. I would’ve kept pushin’, kept tryin’ to make you see what I already knew.” His voice dropped lower, rougher. “That you were mine.”

Your breath caught.

Logan took a step closer, his boots splashing against the wet pavement. “I tried, Y/N. I tried to stay away, tried to let you have the life you wanted. Thought if I gave you space, I could let it go.” His eyes flickered down to your lips before snapping back up. “But I couldn’t.”

You stared at him, rain slipping down your face, soaking through your clothes. “Then why the hell didn’t you come back?”

Logan huffed out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Because I figured I already lost.” He clenched his jaw, his hands twitching at his sides. “Told myself you moved on, that I was just some old mistake you didn’t wanna repeat. Thought if I stayed gone, maybe it’d be easier for both of us.”

You let out a sharp breath, frustration curling in your chest. “And did it work?”

Logan held your gaze. “No.”

Silence stretched between you, thick and charged.

Your pulse hammered in your throat, your mind racing, trying to process everything, trying to untangle the mess of emotions twisting through you. You wanted to scream at him, to shove him again for making you go through all that hell, for making you question every damn choice you had made in the past year.

But more than anything, you just wanted him. You swallowed hard, taking a shaky step forward. “Logan—”

He closed the distance between you in two long strides, his hands finally—finally—grabbing your face, fingers curling against your jaw. His breath was hot against your lips, his grip firm, steady.

“Tell me to stop,” Logan rasped, his voice rough, desperate.

You didn’t. Instead, you surged forward, your lips crashing into his with a force that sent a sharp jolt through your entire body. Logan groaned into your mouth, his hands dropping to your waist, yanking you flush against him. The kiss was nothing like the one in your office. This wasn’t hesitation, wasn’t uncertainty. This was raw, real—years of built-up tension breaking all at once.

Logan kissed you like he was making up for every second he had spent without you. Like he was trying to erase every moment you had spent with someone else. His hands were everywhere—gripping your hips, sliding up your back, tangling into your rain-soaked hair.

Your fingers curled into his jacket, holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded. You could taste whiskey and rain on his lips, could feel the heat radiating off his body, and fuck, it was too much, not enough, everything all at once.

“Missed you,” Logan murmured against your lips, his voice rough, breathless. His hands flexed against your back, like he needed to feel you, to make sure you were really here. “You got no fuckin’ idea.”

You broke away just enough to catch your breath, your forehead resting against his. “Then don’t leave again.”

Logan let out a shaky exhale, his grip tightening on you. “I won’t.”

And this time, you believed him.

[princessofgotham777]

Dating Jason Todd (Part Eighteen: want to want you)

Jason Todd x Reader

fanfic type: angst, fluff, comfort (ongoing)

If you liked the Titans show but wish they handled Jason’s story line differently you might like this fic!

Heyyyyyy, long time no see. I fear I pulled a Jason and disappeared for a bit but hey whatever I’m back now. I lowkey like how this part came out so I hope you enjoy!

So story line, this doesn’t really take place in any specific universe but I’m gonna be pulling concepts from Titans, Arkham Knight, The Batman, Under the Red Hood, and whatever lore I remember from the CW shows cause I grew up watching those, then just my imagination of course. Reader is referred to as she/her btw. Of course I don’t own any DC characters this is purely fanfiction.

Warnings: talking about death, suicide, depression, torture (it’s not graphic I hate gore it’s just sad), talking about intimacy (not graphic), struggling with eating, topics of grief, violence, panic attacks, PTSD

Part Nineteen: want to want you

It had been two hours since you found out Jason was alive. He’s currently, passed out, handcuffed to a medical bed in the batcave. You’re sitting beside him and beside you is Alfred. Bruce and Dick are standing across the room. Everyone is quiet aside from the whispers between Gar and Rachel. The DNA test has a few more minutes on it. Bruce and Dick finished digging up the coffin, inside was a dummy. Gar, Rachel and Kori are in the batcave. Every few minutes you look up to see Dick staring at you with anger. Under his scowl though you see something deeper, fear. You knew he was afraid of losing you and losing himself to his old habits. That moment back in titans tower after Jason went missing you saw a switch flip in Dick. He lost his Nightwing, titans leader persona and fell back into the violent tendencies he’d become numb to as Robin. The DNA testing machine buzzes and Alfred gets up to check it. It’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Everyone holds their breath and finally Alfred says, “it’s Jason.” Dicks facial expression changes, he knows he’s fucked up, it’s just a question of if he’ll try to defend himself or accept defeat.

Gar pokes his head in the room, “we heard the ring, what’s it say?” He asks, looking at Dick. Dick gives him no response instead just staring at Jason.

“It’s Jason,” Bruce says.

Gar smiles widely and then goes and yells to Kori and Rachel, “it’s him!”

“The cuffs can come off now,” you say. Dick and Bruce look at each other. “You two are impossible!” You say angrily.

“Y/N,” Bruce says. “We still don’t know how much the pit has affected him.” Dick is silent.

“And you!” You yell at Dick. “Are you gonna say anything!” You hear something and turn to see that while you, Bruce, and Dick were arguing Alfred had undone Jason’s cuffs and woken him up. He quickly sits up straight, fully alert. He rips the iv Alfred had previously put in out and jumps up. It’s like an eternity passes before anyone speaks.

“Jason,” Bruce says.

“You…” Jason begins to say angrily. “You let that evil death worshipping piece of trash live!” He yells at Bruce. He walks over to Bruce so he’s just inches away from his face, nobody dares to stop him. “He beat me, electrocuted me, starved, cut and mentally tortured me for days till I died and when I wake up I find he’s still breathing,” “you are no better than the joker, you claim to be working to stop him but you never actually do.” He says. You walk over to Jason. You gently place a hand on his shoulder and he flinches. Dick takes a step forward but you shoot him a glare.

“Let’s go,” you whisper. “We can leave,” you say. He stares at Bruce for another moment then you feel him take your hand. As you follow Jason’s lead out of the room, you and Dick lock eyes.

You and Jason race upstairs to his old room. He begins using a pocket knife to rip up a couple floor boards. “Before you follow me to the ends of the Earth and leave all your friends you should know I killed him,” Jason says.

“Who?” You ask.

“Riley Larson,” he says. The guy who stalked you.

“Why?” You ask. “I thought he wasn’t gonna be a problem anymore.”

“All those years ago I broke his leg to teach him a lesson but when we moved out of the tower I noticed he started keeping tabs on you again. I had planned to frame him for murder or something but then…everything happened. And so when I…when I…” he paused. “When I got back I took care of him for good,” he says.

“Do you regret it?” You ask.

Jason reaches into the floor and grabs a black backpack. He looks you dead in the eyes and says, “no.” “Sure I’m not happy about it but I’d do it again,” he says. He freezes till you finally exhale, processing his answer. He walks over to the desk and throws a couple things into the bag. You think about what he said and the look on his face. Dick and Bruce were partially right, Jason had changed. Though maybe he hadn’t maybe this was the real him finally revealed. You grabbed your bag and waited, set on your plan to go with him. Jason began to walk over to you but he paused. He looked around the room. All your clothes everywhere, his clothes everywhere, dirty cups and places, miscellaneous tissues, he saw everything you’d went through after his death. He ran his hand over his face as if he was trying to wipe the thoughts away, he put his tough persona back on. Jason wrapped his arm around your waist pulling you close and softly said, “let’s go.”

You and Jason made it outside without running into anyone. Then you two saw Dick quickly walking over. “The back of the pool house. Go get the bike,” Jason says as he hands you the keys. You take them and head off to the pool house.

“Jason you know this is a bad idea,” Dick says.

“Says who? You?” He says. “You don’t know shit about resurrection. There is no “pit madness” that’s bullshit, I killed those dealers and that guy cause they’re monsters.”

“Then what does that make you,” Dick snaps.

Jason brushes it off, “you’re just pissed because after everything she still wants to be with me, not you. And it’s crazy cause according to her you don’t even love her romantically who knows if that’s true but romantic or not you like the control. You need people to need you. You did it with me, Y/N, Rachel, Kori, Jericho, Gar, hell even Bruce and the list goes on,” he says.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dick says.

“No I think I do, and the fact that you asked me to not let her come with me instead of asking her to stay with you yourself proves it,” Jason says. “If you want her to stay, ask her yourself.”

“Every fucking time I look at you I remember I failed,” Dick spits out.

“I’m sorry,” is all Jason says. Though it’s a simple sentence it holds much meaning.

You drove over on Jason’s red motorcycle. You got off and said, “everything good?” Jason got on the bike.

“Y/N you can’t be serious about leaving with him,” Dick says as he pulls you to the side.

“Watch it!” Jason yells to Dick who flips him off in response.

“Why wouldn’t I be serious,” you say.

“Look at what he’s done…the people he’s killed,” Dick says.

“You mean the people dealing to kids? The guy who stalked me for years?” You ask.

“You don’t know if he’s the same Jason. We don’t know what he’s capable of,” Dick says.

“Capable of?” You say with sadness in your eyes. “The only and I mean only time he’s ever done anything against me was when he went after Joker and that was in attempt to keep me safe. All he’s ever cared about was me being safe and happy,” you say.

“Maybe the safest place to be isn’t with a guy who just took a swim in the Lazarus pit,” Dick argues.

“You’re impossible,” you say. “Thea’s been in the pit, Sara, Roy, Oliver and the list goes on, you’re only saying this because it’s Jason,” you say.

“I’m saying this cause I can’t see you get hurt,” he says.

“Jason wouldn’t hurt me,” you say.

“He might not even mean to…the pit can mess people up,” Dick says.

“Dick I’ll be fine, I’m leaving with him and…and you can’t stop me,” you say.

“Y/N,” he says desperately.

“Goodbye Dick,” you say quietly.

“You’re just gonna walk away! After everything we’ve been through,” he yells.

“I have to,” you say with tears in your eyes.

“For him,” he says with resentment.

“For myself,” you correct.

“Please,” he said in defeat.

“We’ve had this conversation before Dick, when I left the titans. My answers the same as it was back then, I’m going with Jason,” you say. Dick watched as you walked away. You weren’t his dream girl. Hell he didn’t even love you romantically, but it wasn’t exactly platonic either. You were a flame and he was a moth. The past few years you’d been a constant in his life even when you were being assholes to each other or messing with each others emotions at least you were there; at least he had you and at least you had him. Now things would be different. He knew that for a fact. There would be no more secrets kept just between you two. No more wondering if real feelings of romance or attraction would ever develop. No more angry glances or three am phone calls. He knew Jason was right, he needed you to need him and you didn’t, not anymore. He knew that’s one of the reasons you loved Jason sure he protected you like Dick but Jason also taught you how to fight for yourself. Dick let you depend on him but Jason taught you how to stand on your own two feet with the knowledge that he’d be there if you needed him. Dick had lost you for good, and he believed it was his own doing. The feeling you two would turn into strangers lingered in his mind. He wanted to go back to that night on the rooftop in Chicago when you two forgave each other. It seems like every decision he makes regarding you is the wrong one. Convincing each other you had feelings, always putting his baggage on you, how he treated you like a stranger at titans tower, how he wished he stopped you when you left with Jason, how he regretted not saving him after he’d promised you to, and how he couldn’t save you from yourself after Jason died.

You and Jason drove for at least an hour and a half. You two left Gotham. You stopped at a run down gas station right outside the city. Being out of Gotham felt good, it was almost like the feeling you got when you first left Gotham to join the Titans. It wasn’t quite the same though, this one was bittersweet. New chapters are always bittersweet. You’d finally burned your tether to the titans, to Dick.

“When I woke up at the league I was completely lost,” Jason begins to say. “I didn’t know where I was or how I got there all I could remember was the sheer pain and terror of death. But then I found the Polaroids you buried me with, and my bracelets,” he says. You remembered, the Polaroids of you and Jason and Rachel and Gar. When you’d tucked those in his jacket at the funeral you’d never imagined he’d get the chance to actually look at them again. But now here he was. It was just you, him, and the possibilities of what was next. “I love you, Y/N” he says.

“I love you too Jason,” you say.

Hey guys, I hope you enjoyed this part. If you did remember to check out my Masterlist for the other parts. Any feedback really helps and keeps me motivated, it’s always appreciated! This might be the last part to this fic for a bit we’ll see I might have more ideas tho. But for now I’m gonna focus on FINALLY starting the “The Other Titan” fic. It will also be Jason Todd x Reader with some Dick Grayson angst and such as well. It’s a backstory for this fic so maybe check it out if you enjoyed this one. Thanks for reading!

Masterlist

[ya-killin-me-smalls]

drop any madcom shipping thoughts you've been having. any ship. any way. multiple ships if you want. im giving you permission to ramble

oh man that's way too much power for one me

below the cut

2bmos

gotta start with my reason for breathing. Doc and Deimos have such a fun, interesting dynamic to me. I kind of wish I'd started Tear in My Heart a little further back in time instead of where I did because Doc really did consider Deimos his friend before things got complicated, and that's something I'd wanna explore eventually. the late night talks out on the balcony, the business trips Deimos would tag along on both as protection and just as company, every doctors appointment that Doc attended with Deimos to make him feel more comfortable because he knew these things stressed him out. the yearning. it wasn't love at first sight for Doc but when he did finally fall it was hard. sure, always found Deimos physically appealing, but it was the loyalty, the devotion, the resilience, the ferocity; it was watching Deimos laugh to the point of tears over something ridiculous and seeing him genuinely smile for what might've been the first time in his life. he loves Deimos as a friend, a partner, a favorite weapon, a head trophy, and a priceless possession

on Deimos's end, it's more complicated. difficult for him to put into words. Doc is master, first and foremost, regardless of the nature of their relationship. not to say that Deimos doesn't have his own opinions or blindly follows orders. he follows orders with eyes wide open knowing damn well whether it's morally correct or not, and he does it because Doc is his entire world from the moment he leaves the Agency. everyone else is either afraid of him, wants to fix him, or wants him dead, but not Doc. Doc trusts him as he is and welcomes him with open arms even when he's angry and hurting. it takes Deimos a long time to sort out his own feelings, at first only viewing Doc as another leader to follow, this one much kinder than the last. a source of comfort when he feels like he's going to break. a distraction from the rest of the world. a scapegoat for every evil he commits, because at the end of the day he's just following orders. he wants to think that Doc could love him but considers it just a fantasy until he sees Doc hurting in his absence. when it's Doc's turn to drop to his knees and weep at the sight of him, clinging to him in any way he can and telling him outright that he loves him

and all of this could've been made way easier if they weren't stupid and Doc went "hey, I like you like you and want to be more than friends" or if Deimos grew a spine and said "tell me what we are or I'm done here." but they don't do that because they suck

hankford

specifically gonna blab about my vampire/vampire hunter au because I've been meaning to do that. total canon overhaul where Sanford is a vampire hunter that's been following a trail of grisly murders for months now, tracking something more intelligent and ellusive than he ever has before. entire families slaughtered, throats torn out, bodies left completely unrecognizable

which leads to Hank, skipping from small town to small town out west where these things can be blamed on wild animal attacks, never sticking around long because they know they're being followed. they could kill Sanford pretty easily but know better than to attract the attention of other hunters, and somehow their kills getting more and more gruesome isn't shaking him off their tail. gonna save myself a little time and put screenshots from discord rambling

I swear I'm gonna write it at some point

but yeah throughout this whole ordeal Sanford is convinced he's under some sort of mind control/poison that's making him feel like this because there's just No Way he's hot and bothered for a vampire. but he is and Hank knows it

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Peeped the horrors

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[holyshit]

.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Understandably So no one mentions charles when talking about the Logan movie and again Understandably So This Aint Bout Him however i do confess that as someone who had never seen Logan until like. a month ago when i was binging all the movies and without knowing a single thing about it aside from laura i cant lie i was in fact jumpscared by him being there. especially for at least like 3/4s of the movie

[hana-bobo-finch]

ah yes…..time for another pdbc post….why make proper character introductions or lore explanations when I can make rushed doodles explaining the questionably-canon lore of Crackhead Yoshi

anyway in the most recent lore development that will play absolutely no role in anything, bellona had a yoshi plush she used to store drugs in. not to take but to just. have on hand in case they were needed yknow? she named him crackhead yoshi and is ashamed of his existence but also refuses to let anyone take him away from her

fun fact! one of the few times her brother visited her as a kid he found crackhead yoshi and that Probably contributed to the whole being-pretty-distant-from-the-rest-of-the-family thing

[hauntingblue]

Oh my god why........ why would someone do this omg.... feminism would have saved them all... lesbianism too...

[sketchtastrophee]

old art again!! this time a rough animation of sawyer and yarnaby 😎 (looks better if u click to view 😭)

im working on a short ppt animation rn. im thinking i should post it to my youtube channel, though im not sure if people here would see it. i think i can link videos on here?? idk

okay I'm gonna talk abt more chapter 4 stuff.. this time about prototype's previous identity.. ch4 spoilers and also a theory below..

hiding the solo yarnaby under here LOL

people theorized 1006 was elliot, which was recently disproven in the chapter 4 tape where poppy refers to elliot as her dad and wishes he were there. in the same tape she addresses prototype as a completely different person. also recall that elliot died in the 90s, meanwhile prototype met theo in 1989. so yeah, they aren't the same person

I've also seen people say rich is prototype, which cannot be true either. in a ch4 tape he speaks to one of the employees under his supervision. the kid mentions his coworkers joking about him going missing. before the bbi, it would not make sense for this to be a common rumor at the company, which means this tape had to happen after harley was hired in 1990; at a time when the company would have a reason to silence people

prototype existed in 1989 at the minimum, but considering he says "it's always been about you and me" to poppy, he's likely the prototype of HER. she's elliots daughter, she died in the 60s, meaning prototype was probably created around that time as well.

this means that rich can't be the prototype because he was human long after prototype was made

if you want my take on who prototype truly is, i'd say his identity doesn't necessarily matter. i don't mean to say his origins aren't important, just that his name and specific role in the past probably doesn't mean anything in the long run. i've never believed he was elliot or rich, and maybe in the future i'll be proven wrong but for now i'll tell you the theory i've had since june of last year

elliot's daughter dies in the 60s. he divorced his wife in 1930, so his daughter is probably in her 30s when she dies. she gets sick or injured, maybe she's actively dying or already dead by the time elliot begins his research. he looks for ways to bring her back, but it doesn't work on the rats (as he mentioned a note in the 2nd chapter)

so what does he do? he tries it on something bigger as he said he would: a human. of course he's not going to try this experimental method on his own daughter, even if she's already dead, so he finds someone else to use it on. we know that elliot wasn't evil or anything, so it's unlikely he killed anybody to use for the experiment. considering the orphanage isn't open yet (it opened in the 70s, not the 60s), prototype probably wasn't an orphan child either. if i run with my simple version of the theory, elliot may have dug up a body in a graveyard and used that. maybe a fresh one, who knows. he tried it, it worked, then he revived his daughter with the same method.

this is likely what harley wanted to know about in the chapter 3 tape (the "i learn something new about you every day" one), and also what prototype is asking harley to figure out in the ch4 tape they're both in. in that case, sawyer never actually figured out how to revive people with the poppy substance. sure, he can transfer people into the toys, but he can't bring anybody back to life

more reason to believe prototype and poppy are of the same "batch" is because it seems they are the only two who don't need food. it's outright stated about him in the ch1 trailer, and insinuated with her saying the "toys will starve otherwise" when she's talking about how nasty them eating humans is. she refers to them, not herself. her and prototype are probably the only 2 who were ever brought back from the dead, which circles back around to his monologue and gives meaning to the "it's always been about you and me, poppy. what we are". when i heard him say that i felt like my theory was lowk confirmed 😭😭

no guarantee this is right, but it's been my guess for a long time

[missdynamighttt]

sigh... bf! katsuki wasn’t the type to let anyone get away with slacking off, especially not you.

he’d been noticing the way you’d been procrastinating, pushing everything to the last minute. he didn’t mind when you were distracted sometimes, but when it became a pattern? hell no.

one afternoon, you were sprawled out on the couch, phone in hand, scrolling mindlessly through social media when katsuki marched in, clearly fed up.

"oi," he growled, standing over you with his arms crossed. "the hell do you think you’re doing?"

you looked up, giving him a tired smile. "just taking a break, katsuki. i’ll get back to it soon."

"bullshit," he snapped, his fiery eyes locking onto you. "you've been taking breaks all day. what’s your excuse this time?"

you sighed, sitting up. "i don’t know. i.. can’t get into it. my brain’s just all over the place."

he walked over to the couch, sitting down beside you and giving you a quick, pointed look. "you’ve been wasting time for hours. you know that, right? if you keep this shit up, you’re gonna be behind."

you shook your head, feeling a little guilty. "i know... i just don’t feel.. motivated."

katsuki’s gaze softened, but there was still an edge to it. "i get it, okay? you’re tired, you’re stressed, but you can’t let this shit slide. you’re smarter than this. you know that."

he leaned in a bit, his voice growing lower, almost like a challenge. "so you’re gonna sit here and waste your potential? huh? is that what you’re gonna do?"

you paused, your mind racing. he was right. you were better than procrastinating, better than letting your goals slip away. katsuki knew how to light a fire under your ass, even without trying too hard.

"fine," you muttered, getting up from the couch. "i’ll study."

"good," he huffed, giving your shoulder a quick shove. "get your shit together. and when you’re done, i’ll reward you. but don’t think you’re getting anything until i see results."

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile creeping onto your face. katsuki may have been rough around the edges, but he always knew how to push you in the right direction.

you hummed, flipping through your notes. "what's the reward, anyway?"

his grin was downright evil. "wouldn't you like to know?"

the next few hours were grueling. every time you lost focus, you’d catch katsuki’s gaze burning into you, silently daring you to slack off. and every time you did, his voice would cut through like a knife.

"oi. focus."

"don't even think about picking up your phone."

"you got five more pages. don’t quit now."

it was relentless, but it worked. you were powering through more than you had in the past few days combined. and admittedly? it was kind of hot seeing how serious he was about you succeeding.

eventually, you slammed your textbook shut, sighing dramatically.

"alright. i'm done. can i get my reward now?"

katsuki didn’t move from his spot on the couch, just raised a brow.

"let me see."

"what—"

"your notes. show me."

groaning, you brought your notebook over, dropping it into his lap. he actually flipped through it, scanning your work like he was grading you. "hmph. not bad. you finally use that brain of yours, huh?"

you pouted. "okay, great. can i get my reward now?"

"tch. desperate, huh?"

"you promised—"

"and i'm a man of my word, ain't i?"

the next thing you knew, he was on you. soon enough, his hands were on your hips, yanking you down onto his lap. his mouth was on yours, hot and hungry, like he’d been waiting for you to finish just so he could devour you.

"katsuki—" you gasped between kisses, "i thought the reward was gonna be like... dinner or something."

"dinner’s later," he growled, his teeth scraping against your jaw. "this is your reward."

and ohhh, he rewarded you alright. every kiss, every touch was dripping with pride — like he was genuinely turned on by you grinding through your study session.

"so fuckin’ proud of you, baby," he murmured against your skin as his hands slid under your shirt, "knew you could do it. my smart fuckin’ girl."

it caught you off guard — the way your eyes started to sting when he called you that.

you hadn’t even realized how much you needed to hear that. how much you’d been doubting yourself lately — feeling like you weren’t doing enough, like you were somehow always behind. and here katsuki was, holding you close, praising you like you’d just moved mountains.

"hey…" his voice softened, your shaky breath giving you away. "shit, baby, what’s wrong?"

"n-nothing," you sniffled, wiping at your face. "sh-shit, i’m sorry... i’m just... being stupid. i didn’t mean to be... a turn-off or anything, holy fuck..."

"nah, nah, don’t gimme that," he said, tipping your chin up so you couldn’t hide. "what is it? c’mon, sweets.. talk to me."

"i just..." you let out a weak laugh, embarrassed at how emotional you’d gotten. "you called me your smart girl, and i... i don’t know. i guess i haven’t really... felt like one, lately."

his brows furrowed, like the thought alone pissed him off. "that’s bullshit. you're smart as hell — way smarter than you give yourself credit for. don’t care how long it takes you to get something done; you always pull through. always."

his thumb brushed over your cheek, wiping away a stray tear. "and i’m proud of you. so fuckin’ proud, y’hear me?"

that did it. you broke down, melting into his chest as he held you close, murmuring soft reassurances into your hair.

"s’okay," he whispered, rocking you gently. "gotcha. always gotcha, baby."

and he did. katsuki wasn’t the type to throw around words like that easily — so when he said he was proud of you?

he meant it.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ been procastinating a lot lately and im getting there(?) hope you guys arent like me, procrastinating is a bitch😵‍💫 hope you guys enjoyed and if no one told you this yet, im really really proud of you💜💜

[fear-is-truth]

college!rodrick heffley | mature content 18+

rodrick heffley didn’t believe in cleaning. sure, he would occasionally move piles of clothes from one corner of his dorm to another, or kick an empty soda can under his bed to make it look like he cared, but honestly, he didn’t see the point. his roommate wasn’t much better, so their dorm was a certified disaster zone.

that is, until you started showing up more often.

you and rodrick had been dating for a few months now, and while you adored the ever living fuck out of him, you couldn’t deny the absolute horror that was his living space. so naturally, you took matters into your own hands. his roommate was out, which meant you had the place to yourselves. rodrick was sprawled out on the couch, a playstation controller in his hands, watching you move around picking up crumpled shirts, empty coffee cups.

those stupid shorts again.

the material clung to your thighs, already short enough, but every time you bent down, they seemed to ride up just a little more. rodrick simply couldn’t take his eyes from your pert ass. the hem of the fabric inched dangerously high, exposing that sliver of skin just below the curve of your asscheeks, where your thighs began to taper. it wasn’t everything—but enough to make his brain short-circuit.

“you know,” you said, crouching down to pick up a tattered notebook off the floor, “this room is a biohazard. i’m pretty sure it violates some kind of health code.” rodrick mashed a random button on his controller.

“uh, yeah. i was, uh, gonna clean it. eventually.”

you snorted, standing up and tossing the notebook onto his desk. “sure.” his eyes followed you as you moved across the room. he should say something—anything—but his brain wasn’t cooperating when his blood was rushing south.

“hey rod,” you said bluntly, “why do you keep oogling my ass?” his face went bright red as the controller hit the floor with a clatter. “i… i wasn’t!” he stammered, “i wasn’t—uh, i mean, i wasn’t trying to, it’s just—” you shook your head, sighing and walking over to where he was sitting. without a word, you climbed onto his lap, straddling him with one knee on either side of his hips. rodrick’s hands slid instinctively to your hips but didn’t stay there for long. almost without thinking, they drifted lower, fingers splaying over the curve of your ass.

“if i’m so distracting,” you drawled, grinding against the growing bulge in his jeans, “maybe you should say something instead of staring like an idiot.” before he could even think of something to say, your lips brushed against his neck. the sudden sharp nip at his adam’s apple made him jolt, a soft, involuntary whine escaping his throat. “h-hey,” he mumbled, tilting his head back against the couch. “you’re evil.”

[vanteguccir]

chris said on the stream that he can’t go to sleep mad at his brothers so can you write something where reader and chris are mad at each other and she’s trying to go to sleep but chris won’t let her until they make up please!!

love you🤍

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤNOT GONNA SLEEP ANGRY * CHRIS STURNIOLO * BLURB

SUMMARY　::　Where Y/N and Chris had a fight during the day, and now he won't go to sleep until Y/N forgive him.

FEATURING　Chris Sturniolo x reader

WARNINGS　::　None.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

The room was dark, illuminated only by the dim glow of Chris's phone screen as he scrolled aggressively - probably watching only a second from each TikTok - while pointedly ignoring Y/N.

Or, well, trying to.

Because even though she wasn’t looking at him, he could feel her presence, her annoyance practically radiating off her in waves.

She was lying as far away from him as physically possible, practically falling off the edge of the bed like she was getting ready for some kind of emergency evacuation.

The only reason she hadn’t actually left was because one, she refused to give him the satisfaction of sleeping on the couch, and two, she wasn’t about to make him do it either. Even if he was being impossible.

Chris let out a deep sigh, dramatically loud, as if he were the victim here.

Y/N closed her eyes tighter, gripping the edge of the blanket like it was a lifeline. She wasn’t about to break first. No way. She had her pride. And besides, she was so tired. If she just focused hard enough, she could probably fall asleep and pretend he wasn’t there.

But Chris? Oh, Chris wasn't having it.

He shifted, tossing his phone onto the mattress beside him, and let out another long, deep sigh.

Y/N didn’t react.

"Are you seriously gonna sleep like that?" He finally spoke, voice laced with exasperation.

She didn’t answer.

Silence. A whole five seconds of it.

Until Chris poked her side.

Y/N flinched but stayed quiet, clenching her jaw.

Another poke.

"Chris." Her voice was warning, strained, eyes still squeezed shut.

Another poke.

Deep breaths, deep breaths.

"Christopher."

But still, no other reaction from her.

Chris groaned dramatically, throwing his head back against the pillow.

"You’re really gonna make me suffer like this?"

No answer.

Chris shifted closer. Not too close, but enough for her to know he was there, breathing down her neck, waiting for any sort of reaction.

Then, in a voice that was way too soft for the situation, he was back at talking.

"You know I can’t sleep when we’re mad at each other."

Y/N rolled her closed eyes.

"Then don’t sleep."

"Oh my God." Chris flopped onto his back, covering his face with his hands like she had just stabbed him in the heart. "You’re actually evil. I can’t believe I’m dating a villain."

She bit back a smile.

Chris propped himself up on his elbow.

"Babe." He tried again, a little whinier this time. "Just talk to me so I can sleep."

"You should’ve thought about that before being annoying."

Chris let out the most pained groan.

"I’m always annoying. That’s literally, like, my whole thing. What’s different about today?"

Y/N turned her head just slightly, just enough for him to see her squinting at him.

"Oh, so you know you’re annoying?"

Chris shrugged.

"Duh. You knew what you signed up for."

She huffed, turning back toward the side, still determined to ignore him.

Chris paused. Considered his options.

Well...

Then, before Y/N could even register what was happening, she felt hands. Strong, impatient hands digging into her waist and yanking her back with force, her body colliding into his in one swift motion, causing the bed to squeak.

A gasp left her lips as she suddenly found herself trapped, Chris’s arms locked tightly around her middle, fingers pressing into her stomach in an almost bruising grip, his broad chest flush against her back.

"CHRIS."

"Nope." He interrupted, his voice low, spoken directly into the crook of her neck as he buried his face against her. His breath tickled, warm and slow, sending a shiver racing down her spine.

Her hands instinctively flew to his exposed arms, attempting to pry them off, digging her nails on his skin, but he was relentless. His grip only tightened, his legs wrapping around hers now, effectively caging her in.

"You hate me so bad, but you’re still in my bed." He murmured dramatically against her neck, the vibrations of his voice sinking into her skin.

Y/N squirmed, still trying to maintain whatever shred of dignity she had left.

"I was here first."

Chris hummed, the sound almost taunting, before pressing his lips right against her pulse.

Y/N froze.

Chris, sensing the way her body stiffened, smirked.

"I refuse to sleep with this weird energy." He continued, voice softer now. "You know I can’t go to bed mad at you."

Y/N exhaled sharply, hating how her body had completely betrayed her, how the stubbornness she had clung to so tightly was slipping through her fingers with every passing second in his arms.

"This isn’t fair." She muttered, pouting.

Chris chuckled, nuzzling his nose against the soft skin below her jaw, his lips grazing just enough to make her melt.

"You love it."

"I don’t." She insisted, though the way her body had softened into his told a completely different story.

Chris pressed another slow kiss to her neck, his grip on her waist easing, but still firm. Holding her there. Keeping her close.

"Yeah, you do."

Y/N sighed, eyes fluttering shut.

She was so mad at how easy he made it. How quickly he could make her not mad at him anymore.

"You’re so annoying." She whispered.

Chris smiled against her skin.

"And yet, here you are."

"Well, you kidnapped me." She rolled her eyes, squeezing the skin of his arm. "... I hate when you do this."

Chris hummed, content.

"What, love you?"

She exhaled through her nose, finally letting herself melt into him.

"I love you too."

Chris grinned, pressing one last lingering kiss to her skin before finally resting his head against the pillow, arms still securely wrapped around her.

© vanteguccir

[silversurfersx]

skater girl | max verstappen

max verstappen × driver!reader [smau]

summary: some drivers take scooters around the paddock, some walk and some just ride a skateboard, steal dogs and just won't take max verstappen skating

faceclaim: just some girls I found on pinterest :))

liked by lewishamilton, roscoelovescoco, maxverstappen1 and others

yourusername: found a dog, took him home and showed him how to skate (his dad wanted to supervise 🥴) ☺️🥰🐶

tagged: roscoelovescoco, lewishamilton

_

roscoelovescoco: I had's a lots of fun's! 😍

yourusername: I did too, maybe next time we could have a playdate without ur dad 🤔 roscoelovescoco: dad says no 😥

maxverstappen1: why do you take him skating but you always tell me no 😓

yourusername: cause if you fall off, redbull will have my head😅 maxverstappen1: who says I'll fall off? yourusername: me maxverstappen1: that's mean 😥 yourusername: it's true tho 🥺

user1: that is the cutest 😍

user2: I wanna go on their skate date too :((

lewishamilton: 🐶🛹 {like by yourusername}

user3: cuties ❤

___

liked by carlossainz55, mickschumacher and others

yourusername: did some good racing, got some good points and found some cuties on magazines at the shop 🥰

(also I think mick is trying to murder me, pls send help 😦😕)

tagged: mickschumacher, carlossainz55, maxverstappen

_

mickschumacher: I am, you stole my lunch 🔪

yourusername: I didn't see your name on it 🤷‍♀️ mickschumacher: it was right in the lid, in CAPITAL letters 🤨 yourusername: 😮💀

carlossainz55: ay cariño 😍 {like by yourusername}

yourusername: ay chili 🥰 {liked by carlossainz55}

user4: awesome drive, girl 🔥🔥

user5: p4, LET'S GOOOO!!!!!

maxverstappen1: so you bought a magazine just because of me? 🤔

yourusername: no, it had a skateboard on the front 😚 maxverstappen1: sure, sure yourusername: 💀 maxverstappen1: btw, did I see you let mick ride your skateboard earlier today 🧐 yourusername: yes maxverstappen1: so he wants to kill you and can still ride it, but I don't 🤨 yourusername: well, I know he's harmless, but the energy drink company u drive for has proper means to 💀 me user6: damn, just let the poor guy ride for a bit {liked by maxverstappen1} yourusername: no

___

yourusername posted a story

If you saw me fall, no you didn't, thanks kym for not posting that little mishap xD

maxverstappen1: can I ride now?

yourusername: no maxverstappen1: 🥺😥 maxverstappen1: then I'm not gonna let you visit sassy and jimmy 🙍‍♂️ yourusername: don't put the babies in the middle of this, max! 😡 maxverstappen1: your decision 😏🤷‍♂️

___

liked by landonorris, fernandoalo_oficial, charles_leclerc and others

maxverstappen1: good times 🏊‍♂️🐱

tagged: yourusername, fernandoalo_oficial

_

yourusername: you know what your doing...😐

maxverstappen1: you know my conditions, meanwhile I've found a substitute mom yourusername: I will not forget this...

fernandoalo_oficial: it was so nice to meet the two🥰

yourusername: you have no idea what you just started, nando fernandoalo_oficial: what?

user7: what is going on here? 👀

user8: I think max is threatening y/n user7: with his cats? 🧐 user8: ...apperantly

landonorris: why did you take fernando to see them but not me 😦

yourusername: would u say you've been betrayed? landonorris: maybe... 🥺 yourusername: would a little ride on my skateboard make you feel better? landonorris: maybe 😲 maxverstappen1: oh, come on!! user9: oh this is evil, I love it 😂 {liked by yourusername}

___

yourusername posted a story

Little skating lesson w @ landonorris, it was a complete fail :/

maxverstappen1: if I reinstate you visiting schedule for jimmy and sassy, could I have a go 🥰 please 🥺 yourusername: I might consider it 🤔 if you promise to keep me save from redbull if something should happen maxverstappen1: I swear on all the cats in the world 🤞 yourusername: oh wow, that is a big promise 😯🤨 maxverstappen1: it's a big deal 😊

___

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, charles_leclerc and more

yourusername: I finally gave in just for him to decide it wasn't for him and order sushi instead to the skate park 😐

tagged: maxverstappen1

_

charles_leclerc: does that mean I can ride your skateboard now too?

yourusername: oh for gods sake 💀

[wonderjanga]

the justice league are confused by billys family tree since THEY count the wizard and his fam while BILLY only counts his own fam + tawny, leadin to very unfortunate implications

Marvel: “The wizard isn’t my family?

Flash: “Wha? But isn’t he like, your dad?”

Marvel: “No— er, well technically.”

Supes: “Then what happened?”

Marvel: “Nothing.” *remembering how the Wizard straight up died*

See, while Billy was remembering that, he got this far off look of almost PTSD and that made the JL think something absolutely fucking horrible happened because he genuinely looked traumatised.

So they set out on a mission to find out what happened and see if maybe they can get the 2 to reconnect.

Wondy: “We have to find out what happened.”

Supes: “You’re right… so what do we know so far?”

Flash: “Nothing.”

Supes: “Is there anything that can suggest that we don’t know nothing…?”

Flash: “Well, whatever it was that happened was bad. Did you see how haunted he looked?”

GL: “Yeah. Yeah, so we know it was really bad. Is there any other way to find out what happened?”

Supes: “Maybe we could contact the wizard?”

Flash: “That’s a great idea! But uhm… how do you contact a wizard?”

They went to John Constantine then Zatanna then Dr Fate, and they all gave them nothing. Mostly because they didn’t know Shazam was the wizard who gave Captain Marvel his magic. They knew of Shazam, but they didn’t know they were the same person.

So, asking the magical people they knew was a bust. It seemed like their pipe dream of helping Marvel was for nought. That was until Marvel told them that he was gonna have to miss a meeting because he was fighting Black Adam.

Black Adam.

Gosh, why didn’t they think of it sooner? Him and Cap are brothers, aren’t they?

Black Adam: *flying back to Kahndaq after he got beaten*

JL: *intercept him*

Black Adam: “The Justice League… what do you want? I already told you I have no business with you, just Captain Marvel.”

Supes: “We know that. Captain Marvel is the reason we’re here actually.”

Black Adam: “He told you to kick me while I’m down?”

Supes: “What- No! We just have some personal concerns about him.”

Black Adam: “…What?”

Supes: “Did your guys’ dad ever do anything to you?”

Black Adam: “Excuse me?”

Supes: “Like anything traumatizing or…?”

Black Adam gave them the evil eye after giving them a confused stare.

Black Adam: “I’m leaving now.” *goes to continue flying back to Kahndaq*

Supes: “Wait!”

[mintyys-blog]

I'm eating your invincible fanfics up like˓˓⍥⃝⃝ ˒˒

I rlly wanna ask if you can do headcanons of the invincible variants and main mark, and where the reader is just fucking unhinged, but in a good way! Like there's this lady on tiktok that said something across the lines of "If she had an army she's make sure they're all 5'5 or under 5 foot", and I can't stop imagining reader saying some shit like that as well and they're just like :"When I start building my army, ima make sure they're all under 5 foot, because you'll be looking you for them like" Where they at? AH SHIT THEY'RE ON MY FEET" and then boom your dead, because short people look like they always got a bone to pick."

Pretty please, I need headcanons of their reactions with shit like this it'd be so funny😭

HEADCANON | they react to you being unhinged

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST | WARNINGS: dark themes

Mainstream Mark

• He never knows what you’re gonna say next, and it terrifies him.

You’ll be sipping juice like, “I think I should start an underground cult. But cute. Pink robes. Glitter blood oaths.”

And he’s like, “…Wait. What?”

• He’s supportive, but confused. He also tries to convince himself you’re just joking— even when you’re not.

“Why do you want your entire army to be under 5 feet tall?”

“So the enemy can’t see them coming. I want the element of surprise, Mark.”

“…Oh. Okay. That actually makes sense—wait, NO IT DOESN’T.”

• He genuinely thinks you’re hilarious, but there are moments he has to sit you down like, “Hey, babe… just checking… you’re not actually building an army in the garage, right?”

You blink. “Of course not. They’re already in the basement.”

“WHAT.”

Sinister Mark

• He is in love. Like, deeply and dangerously in love.

The moment you said, “I want an army of unhinged feral 4’11 women with rage disorders,” he dropped to one knee.

• “You know what I like about you?” he growls, dragging a bloody hand down your cheek.

“What, baby?”

“You’re crazy, but you make it look sexy.”

Then he helps you write your evil speech. In blood.

• You two gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss together and the world suffers for it.

If you say, “Let’s build a catapult that launches grenades filled with bees,” he’s already halfway through blueprint sketches.

Mohawk Mark

• “YESSS, BABY! BUILD THAT ARMY! I WANNA SEE CARNAGE FROM THE GROUND UP!”

You could tell him you want to weaponize squirrels and he’d hand you acorns like, “Make it rain.”

• He’s the kind of guy to scream, “I DON’T KNOW WHAT WE’RE DOING BUT I’M IN!” while charging into battle behind your 4’9 war generals.

• He once saw you put hot sauce in your eye “for battle readiness” and asked if he could do the other one.

You’re both certifiably unhinged, and he lives for it.

Omni Mark

• You: “I want a platoon of murder-happy shorties who can hide in vents and emotionally destroy a man.”

Him: “That’s… incredibly inefficient.”

Also him, 2 days later: builds them custom weapons and agility suits in secret.

• He’s not gonna encourage your chaos, but he’s definitely invested.

“If you’re going to start a revolution, at least let me vet the recruits.”

• You are the only one who can say, “I wanna drown a city in glitter and rage” and get a slow, reluctant smirk from him.

Shiesty Mark

• “You wanna burn down a government building? Say less.”

You didn’t even finish the sentence before he was sliding you a Molotov cocktail.

• He thinks your unhinged ideas are sexy as hell. You once yelled, “I WANNA RECRUIT CHILD ASSASSINS” and he leaned over and whispered, “You’re turning me on, baby.”

• 100% the kind of guy who would smoke a blunt with you while drawing up insane plans on a napkin. “We should stage a fake alien invasion. Real aliens optional.”

No Goggles Mark

• You: “Short people are angrier. I want that rage on my side.”

Him: “If one of them bites me, I’m gonna say thank you.”

• He’s obsessed with your chaos. He doesn’t even care what your plan is, he’s just excited to see you snap.

“Make them hurt, babe. I’ll carry the body bags.”

• You two relish mayhem together.

You: “Should I train them to kill with sharpened lollipops?”

Him: “I’ll test one on my arm. Let’s see how deep it goes.”

⸻

Full Mask Mark

• You say you want to start an army of under-5-foot murder gremlins and he just nods and starts sharpening knives.

• He doesn’t question you. He just makes it happen. Builds an entire underground complex. Outfits your soldiers in tactical pink and red.

• He never speaks on your chaotic behavior, but you know he’s weirdly turned on every time you monologue about kneecap warfare.

⸻

No Mask Mark

• “You want to weaponize short people? That’s beautiful.”

You: “I was gonna teach them to hide in the floorboards.”

Him: “Let me build the floorboards.”

• He’s the one who makes your ideas reality while you’re joking and then deadass looks at you like,

“We’re committed now. You can’t back out.”

• You say something offhand like, “We should unleash thousands of raccoons during a peace summit,” and he already has a team gathering feral wildlife.

Prisoner Mark

• You told him you want a small but deadly army.

He whispered, “I’ll kill for you.”

You: “No babe, it’s a metaphor.”

Him: “It’s not anymore.”

• He helps you recruit. He sits in on the psych tests. He makes sure every one of your tiny soldiers can snap a femur.

“They must be small. But deadly. Just like my girl.”

• You told him you wanted a throne of skulls. He brought you five. From where?

“Don’t ask. Just sit.”

Target/Striped Mark

• You say you’re starting an army and he just starts yelling:

“LET’S F***ING GOOOOOOO!”

Throws a table. Kisses you. Says he’s never loved you more.

• He becomes your loudest general. Screaming orders in the chaos like,

“REMEMBER WHAT SHE SAID! BITE THE ANKLES! BITE ‘EM!”

• Once you said, “I want the battlefield to look like a cursed anime convention.”

He got matching outfits for the whole squad and a flag with your face on it.

Viltrumite Mark

• You: “I’m gonna build an army. But only short people. Like 5 feet and under. You ever try to punch a tiny person? They’re hard to hit. They’re slippery. And vengeful.”

• Him: Stares for a full 30 seconds in silence.

“…That’s absurd.”

You: “Absurdly genius?”

“…No.” Pause. “…But I can see the tactical advantage.”

• He doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t smile. Doesn’t react.

But then the next week? He gives you a battlefield layout that includes subterranean tunnels perfect for “your little chaos agents.”

• You once said, “Short people have rage like it’s a birthright. If I train them to punch above their weight class, they’ll be invincible.”

He muttered, “You don’t need an army. You alone are dangerous enough.”

…Was that a compliment? A threat? Romance? Yes.

• He’s secretly fascinated by how deranged you are. You’ll be monologuing like a cartoon villain about “fireproof hamster armor” and “booby-trapped jungle gyms,” and he’ll just cross his arms and say,

“You’re insane.”

Then offer you funding. “Laugh at her again. I dare you.”

• Sometimes you ask him to help train the army and he actually does it. He’s just so serious about it, yelling at 4’10 soldiers like they’re full-grown warriors. “Strike harder. You hesitate, you die.”

One of them cries. You, proudly: “He’s yelling because he cares.”

[chaoticwriting]

Gotham's New Rouge 5

Part 4

-Watchtower-

The Justice League is having their weekly meeting today and as always, Batman is reading the reports for global events that the others already read but Batman says that he is sure some of them Barry and Hal don't.

So here they are, bored out of their minds when suddenly, an alarm went off. Not the 'Oh no the apocalypse is happening' alarm. More like ' Oh no something big is happening' alarm.

Cyborg clicks some buttons on his arm and a hologram appears on the table. The hologram shows a livestream with a kid wearing a half mask that has a big red creepy smile on it plus his weirdly glowing green eyes. Both Barry and Hal shudder when they see the eyes of the kid. Suddenly, the kid starts to laugh while greetthe viewers.

Trickster: Hello, everyone! Today, I have a very special livestream. I am doing an interview!

The kid turns the camera into a view of 2 men in white suits being hung from the ceiling staring intensely at the kid.

Trickster: Presenting our guests for today. Would you like to introduce yourselves?

Agent P: Fuck you! You ghost scum. Just you wait until I get out of these restraints.

Agent Q: Release me you bastard! You wouldn't get away with this!

Trickster: Oh yikes. Our guests today are quite violent aren't they? Anyway, let me introduce them. Over here are Agent P and Agent Q or Simon Hawk and Larry Rose. They are members of the now infamous Ghost Investigation Ward, a secret government branch that focuses on "researching" and "developing" weapons against ghosts.

Agent Q: We develop them to fight against scum like you. You evil scheming bastard.

Trickster: Now, that we talk about it. Here is their research conclusion. *Pulls out a stack of paper* *Takes out a pair of glasses and wears them* Ehem Ehem. Ghost or ecto entities are defined as creatures that are made of or heavily contaminated by ectoplasm. Ecto entities are non sentient nor sapient. They take on the form of our loved one to deceive us and kill us. They are evil and must be destroyed.

After Trickster finishes reading the document out loud, he takes off the glasses and puts down the document.

Trickster: Anyway, I'm pretty sure I am sapient and sentient because I have been thinking real hard on what is the next prank is going to be. And I'm also pretty sure that I am not a ghost, at least not fully since I don't know who I am supposed to impersonate except myself.

Agent P: Shut up! We all know that you ghost scum all tell lies. Deception is in your nature from the moment you are born.

Trickster: Racist much? Heh, if I am capable of lies then, I am sentient and sapient but if I am not sentient nor sapient, I shouldn't be able to lie. Make it make sense people.

Agent P: You liar! I've seen what your kind has done before this. That Phantom scum is lucky we didn't catch him or else we would have cut him open and torture him to death.

Suddenly, Trickster stalls at the words. The viewers can see frost starts to form around the room as ice slowly crept up the two agents' legs. An alarm suddenly turns on and Trickster suddenly wakes up from his budding rage.

Trickster: Well well well. It seems we have visitors. Off you go.

Picking up the two agents, Trickster throws them into a portal that he opens as Nightwing and Batman appears on the scene.

Batman: Where did you take them?

Trickster: Sorry, but I ain't gonna tell you. I have a special game for this type of person.

Nightwing: Wait! Trickster, I know you are a good kid. We can talk about it. You can still stop before you do something you might regret.

Trickster: You know, Nightwing. I used to have so much mercy. I let them live. Time and time again. No matter what they did. I forgave them. I let them go. I believe in the preciousness of human lives. But I am not 14 anymore. I can't stay positive and expect them to one day turn to the good side. Not when they don't learn anything from their wrong doing. And I will teach them that every action has consequences.

Nightwing: Wait!

Batman throws a batarang at Trickster but he easily blocks it with a wall of ice. Nightwing tries to rush after Trickster but the portal has already closed before he manages to catch up to Trickster.

The two of them stare in silence as the only thing left of Trickster is the camera that he used to livestream.

Part 6