#i meant to answer this while watching the two towers last night but then i had to cook chicken at 10:30pm | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pandapetals · 29 days ago

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Shadows of the Past

You’d been in town for exactly one year, two days, and six hours when he walked into the diner. After that, everything changed. Logan became the love of your life and the two of you bonded over trauma in the past while trying to move forward. *or basically a wolverine origins movie AU of sorts.

a/n: decided to post this fic on here all in one go so yall don't have to go to ao3. i wrote this months ago when i first joined the fandom so it may not be the best or edited well and i don't feel like reading it to make sure.

lumberjack logan howlett x fem!reader - no use of y/n, no reader description but reader does have mutant powers, x-men origins au, evenutal smut, small town, memory loss, angst, eventual romance, softie logan

word count: 27k

In the heart of a remote, small town, ancient trees towered like sentinels over the quiet streets, their canopies forming a vast, emerald roof that seemed to stretch on forever. The few who lived here either cherished the untouched beauty of the wilderness or were lumberjacks, carving out their lives one tree at a time. It was the perfect place to disappear.

That was why you chose it—after stumbling upon the town during a restless drive, searching for somewhere to lay low for the night.

People kept to themselves, though you caught the occasional whisper with your name in it. You couldn’t blame them—any newcomer in a place like this would set nerves on edge. But over time, you proved you were just like them. You took a job as a waitress at the local diner and settled into the motel down the road, quietly trying to carve out a life for yourself.

No one thought twice about you—until he showed up. You’d been in town for exactly one year, two days, and six hours when he walked into the diner. His rugged features and rough manner could have easily blended in with the locals, but something about him stood out like a dark cloud on the horizon.

Everyone could sense something was simmering beneath the surface. He had the look of a man itching for a fight, desperate to feel anything at all. The last thing folks wanted here was trouble—and neither did you. You had run from men like him before.

He slid into one of the booths, his eyes sweeping the room with a calculating gaze. A tight white tank peeked out from beneath an unbuttoned plaid shirt, as if he wore the local uniform but with a defiant edge.

You had no choice but to face him. Being the only waitress meant there was no one else to send.

With a steadying breath, you picked up a menu and cautiously approached the booth, forcing a smile as you set it down in front of him. He didn’t glance up, didn’t even flinch. His eyes remained locked on the large window, something outside holding his attention in a vise-like grip.

“Welcome to the Rusty Spoon. What can I get you?” you asked, your voice steady but tinged with an edge of unease.

“You live here?” His eyes stayed fixed on the window as if the answer didn’t matter as much as what he was watching.

You nodded slowly, then noticed his gaze shifted. “Yeah. Who’s asking?” You tried to sound tough, but the words came out shaky, betraying your nerves.

Finally, he turned his head and looked up at you, his brown eyes intense, pinning you in place. “Someone who’s trying to—” He stopped mid-sentence, his gaze locking onto yours. For a moment, his tough exterior faltered, and something in his eyes made you pause. There was a pain there, deep and raw, and suddenly, you realized he wasn’t the man you first thought he was.

“It’s a good place to live,” you replied quickly, cutting him off before he could finish. “Folks keep to themselves, and hardly anyone passes through.” You could sense his unease, like a ripple beneath the surface, something unspoken lingering in the air between you.

He nodded, but his gaze remained locked on yours, intense and searching. You raised an eyebrow and gestured to the menu in front of him. “You gonna order, or do I have to kick you out?”

A slight chuckle escaped him. “I’ll have a coffee.”

“A man your size needs more than just coffee,” you teased, trying to lift the mood, though the tension still hung in the air. “I reckon you could use some breakfast.”

He shrugged, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Sure, whatever you think.”

You grabbed the menu from the table and made your way back to the counter, tossing it into the bin with the others. Though you felt more at ease, you couldn’t help but keep an eye on the mystery man. It wasn’t because you thought he was dangerous—there was just something about him, something different.

After placing his food and coffee down, you watched as he stared at it, lost in thought.

“Something wrong? You don’t like eggs?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He shook his head slowly. “No, I mean... I like them.”

You chuckled, leaning in a bit closer. “Not a man of many words, are you?”

“Guess not.”

You hesitated for a moment, then sat across from him. “I can tell you’re running from something,” you said, your voice soft but probing. “I know the feeling. I ran, too, and this place has been my solace ever since.”

You weren’t sure why you were sharing this with him. Maybe you sensed a kindred spirit. Maybe it was simple curiosity. Or maybe, after all this time, you just needed someone to talk to. It felt strange, but also comforting, to finally meet someone new in this small, quiet town.

“I’m not running,” he finally said, picking up the fork and taking a deliberate bite of his eggs.

You sighed, leaning back slightly. “Everyone runs from something. It’s human nature. We run from our problems, our worries... maybe even from someone.”

He looked up, his brows furrowed. “Look, you seem nice, but I’m not here to chat.”

“Sorry,” you muttered, stepping back as you stood up, the brief connection slipping away as quickly as it had formed. “I’ll be over there if you need anything.” You gestured toward the counter before hurrying away.

Why had you done that? You’d let your guard down to some stranger.

Shaking off the thought, you busied yourself with work, tending to the two other customers in the diner, hoping the routine would steady your nerves.

But no matter how hard you tried, your thoughts kept drifting back to him. The way his eyes had darkened when you mentioned running, the tension in his voice when he’d brushed you off. There was something there, something he wasn’t saying.

You wiped down the counter, your movements automatic, while your mind spun with possibilities. Was he in trouble? Or was he just someone who preferred to keep his past buried? You had a feeling it was more than that, though. The pain you’d glimpsed in his eyes felt too raw, too recent.

The bell above the diner’s door jingled, snapping you out of your thoughts. You turned just in time to see him walk out, his steps rough and hurried. A pang of concern flared inside you as you rushed to the booth.

A few crumpled bills lay on the table next to a half-eaten plate. The food was cold and untouched, save for a few bites. His coffee was still steaming in its cup.

You lingered there for a moment, staring at the scene he’d left behind, a knot tightening in your chest. Had you driven him away?

─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────

A few days passed, but your thoughts kept drifting back to the mystery man. You hadn’t seen him around town since that morning, leading you to assume he’d left for good. Yet, despite yourself, something inside you longed to see him again.

You sighed, burying your face in your hands. The effect this man had on you was unsettling. You had never felt this way before—so drawn to someone you barely knew.

You got ready for work in a daze, your mind still tangled up in thoughts of the mystery man. His presence lingered in your mind like a half-forgotten dream, unsettling and yet impossible to shake. You barely noticed the routine of pulling on your uniform, grabbing your keys, and locking the door behind you as you headed out.

The drive into town took you down the familiar long, winding road, the early morning mist curling around the trees like ghostly fingers. Normally, you find this stretch of road calming, a moment to gather your thoughts before the day begins. But today, your mind was elsewhere—back at the diner, replaying the brief moments you’d spent with him. The intensity of his gaze, the way his voice had wavered when he spoke, the pain you’d seen lurking beneath the surface.

You were so lost in thought that you didn’t see the truck in front of you until it was too late. Your car slammed into it with a sickening crunch of metal, jolting you violently against the seatbelt. The airbag deployed, the sudden impact knocking the breath out of you.

For a moment, you just sat there, dazed, your heart pounding in your chest. The smell of burnt rubber and the hiss of escaping steam filled the air. Slowly, you unbuckled your seatbelt and pushed the door open, stumbling out of the car. A few cuts and bruises marked your arms and legs, but otherwise, you were fine.

You looked up at the truck you’d rear-ended, your stomach sinking as you saw the damage. The back of the truck was dented and scraped, but what caught your attention was the man stepping out of the driver’s side.

It was him.

The mystery man turned around, and your eyes widened in shock. A large gash marred his forehead, blood trickling down the side of his face.

“Are you okay?” you blurted out, rushing over to him. Panic surged through you. “We need to get you to a hospital—”

He waved you off, his expression unreadable. “I’ll be fine,” he muttered, his voice gruff. “It’s just a scratch.”

“A scratch? You’re bleeding!” you insisted, your hands shaking.

As he turned away, something caught your eye. The gash on his forehead—impossibly—was healing itself. You watched, stunned, as the torn skin slowly knit back together, the blood drying and vanishing as if it had never been there.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat as you watched the wound disappear completely, leaving behind nothing but smooth, unblemished skin.

“What…?” The word barely made it past your lips, disbelief washing over you like a cold wave.

He glanced back at you, catching the shock in your eyes. “I told you, I’m fine,” he said, his voice low and steady, but there was a warning in his tone now.

Your mind reeled, trying to make sense of what you’d just seen. Was it a trick of the light? Or were your eyes playing some cruel joke on you? Yet the evidence was right there in front of you—there was no denying what you had witnessed.

“You’re one of them,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “A mutant?”

He didn’t respond immediately. His intense brown eyes met yours, filled with a mix of resignation and something deeper, something you couldn’t quite place. “You need to forget what you just saw,” he said softly, his tone heavy with an unspoken warning that made your stomach twist.

“I can’t just forget—” you started, but your words died in your throat as he turned back toward you, his eyes still intense and dark.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, a weary look settling over his face. “I’m just trying to start over, bub. I don’t need folks knowing I’m a mutant.”

You stood there, your heart pounding, trying to process everything. The man in front of you—this mysterious, gruff stranger—wasn’t just anyone. He was a mutant, someone with abilities far beyond the ordinary. Someone like… you.

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” you finally managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. “Is that why you asked about living here?”

He held your gaze for a long moment as if trying to decide whether to trust you with the truth. Finally, he sighed, the weight of his past heavy in his eyes. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I need a place like this… where people don’t ask too many questions. Where they just leave you alone.”

You nodded, understanding all too well the need to escape, to find a place where the past couldn’t reach you. “I get it,” you said, surprised by the steadiness in your voice.

He scoffed, a bitter smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “What’s a pretty woman like you gotta run from?”

You hesitated, feeling an unexpected pull toward this man—this stranger who somehow felt more familiar than he should. “Stuff,” you said softly, almost confessing everything but you held back. “Doesn’t really matter. I left it behind when I came here.”

He studied you for a moment, his eyes narrowing as if trying to see past the words, to the truth beneath them. The bitter smile faded, replaced by something more sincere, almost understanding. “We all got our demons, I guess,” he said quietly. “Places like this are good for that—keeping them buried.”

You nodded, the words striking a chord deep within you. For a moment, the two of you just stood there, the quiet morning air thick with unspoken understanding. You felt an odd sense of comfort in his presence like you weren’t as alone as you’d always believed.

“Maybe,” you ventured, breaking the silence, “we don’t have to keep them buried forever. Maybe we just need… time.”

He looked at you with a mixture of surprise and something softer, something that hinted at the man behind the guarded exterior. “Time, huh? I’ve got plenty of that. Trust me, it doesn’t change a damn thing.”

The weight of his words hit you—the exhaustion, the loneliness. It mirrored your own, a reflection of the life you’d been leading since you came to this town, hiding in plain sight. You sighed, turning to your car and rubbing your forehead. It was totaled, no doubt.

“Well, I guess I’m screwed,” you muttered, kicking the tire in frustration.

“It was my fault. I stopped because I thought I saw a squirrel in the road,” he said, stepping closer. “I can give you a lift. Where were you headed?”

You laughed, not because it was funny, but because you could see he was lying. It all felt like a stroke of bad luck. The kind that left you wondering if the universe was laughing at your expense. In the chaos, you’d completely forgotten about work—and the fact that you were now late.

“I’m supposed to be at the diner,” you replied, almost absentmindedly, as the reality of the situation began to sink in. Then you looked up at him, shaking your head. “Sorry, but there’s no way I’m getting a lift from you. You’re a stranger. I don’t even know your name.”

He nodded, his eyes softening. “Logan.”

“Logan,” you repeated, the name lingering on your tongue as if trying to find a place in your thoughts, but instead of offering your own, you simply let his name hang in the air between you.

The practical side of you quickly took over. You glanced back at your totaled car, feeling a surge of frustration and helplessness. There was no way you were getting to work on time now, and the idea of walking into town was equally unappealing.

Logan seemed to sense your hesitation. “Look,” he said, his voice softer, almost gentle. “I get it. You don’t know me, and you’ve got every reason to be cautious. But I’m not here to hurt you. I just want to help.”

You studied his face, searching for any sign of dishonesty, but all you found was a tired sincerity in his eyes. There was a part of you that still wanted to push him away, to keep the walls up. But another part of you—a part that had been growing quieter and more lonely since you’d arrived in this town—wanted to take the risk, to trust him, if only for a moment.

“Alright,” you said, your voice firm but still holding a trace of uncertainty. “Just to the diner.”

Logan nodded, seeming to understand your need for boundaries. “Fair enough,” he replied. “I’ll take you to the diner. We can figure out what to do with your car after that.”

With a reluctant sigh, you agreed, walking around to the passenger side of his truck. The door creaked as you opened it, and you hesitated for just a second before climbing in. The seat was worn and the cab smelled faintly of oil and something earthy, like damp leaves. It was clear this truck had seen a lot of miles, just like its owner.

Logan slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine, the rumble of the truck vibrating through the seat. For a few moments, the two of you rode in silence, the winding road passing by outside the window.

As you got closer to town, the reality of the situation began to settle in. You were sitting in a truck with a man who, just moments ago, had been a stranger. A man who had revealed an impossible ability—a mutant, like you. The thought sent a shiver down your spine, not from fear, but from the sudden understanding that your life might be about to change in ways you hadn’t anticipated.

“You mentioned you were trying to start over,” you said, breaking the silence. “I don’t mean to be nosy, but why?”

Logan kept his eyes on the road, his expression unreadable. “Yeah, well, you are being nosy,” he replied, though he didn’t stop there. “Just seemed like a good place to disappear.”

Disappear. The word echoed in your mind, striking a chord with your reasons for coming to this town. You, too, had been searching for a place to hide, to leave the past behind.

As the diner came into view, you found yourself hesitant to leave the safety of the truck, of Logan’s company. There was a strange comfort in knowing you weren’t the only one with secrets, that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t have to face them alone.

He pulled into the parking lot and put the truck in park, glancing over at you. “You gonna be alright?”

You nodded, though the uncertainty still lingered. “Yeah,” you said, more to convince yourself than him. “I’ll be fine.”

But as you reached for the door handle, something stopped you. “Logan,” you said, turning to face him. “Thanks for the ride.”

He nodded, his gaze softening again. “I owed you.”

With that, you stepped out of the truck and into the crisp morning air, the weight of the day ahead pressing down on you. But as you walked toward the diner, you couldn’t help but feel a spark of something new—hope, maybe, or the beginning of a connection you hadn’t expected.

As Logan’s truck pulled away, you realized that, for the first time in a long while, you weren’t entirely alone.

─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────

You weren’t sure how you’d get home, especially with your car left abandoned in the middle of the road. The thought gnawed at you throughout your shift but just a few minutes before the end of it, the door jingled, and you glanced up. Logan stepped into the diner, his presence both unexpected and strangely reassuring.

His eyes scanned the diner, searching until they found you behind the counter, wiping down a plate. You offered a small, uncertain smile, still unsure of what to make of this man who seemed to keep reappearing in your life.

He made his way to the counter, the floorboards creaking slightly under his weight. As he approached, the diner seemed to grow quieter, the hum of conversation fading into the background.

“Guessing you still need a ride?” he asked, his voice low, almost as if he didn’t want to disturb the fragile peace that had settled between you.

You hesitated, glancing down at the plate in your hands, now spotless from your nervous scrubbing. The practical side of you knew you needed help getting home, but another part of you—the part that had learned to be cautious, to avoid relying on anyone—whispered warnings in the back of your mind.

Still, there was something about Logan that made you want to take the risk.

“Yeah,” you finally replied, setting the plate aside and meeting his gaze. “I guess I do.”

Logan nodded as if he’d expected your answer. “I’ll wait outside,” he said, turning to leave before you could say anything more.

You quickly finished up your tasks, your mind racing. There was something about Logan—something you couldn’t quite put your finger on—that both intrigued and unsettled you.

You clocked out, grabbed your things, and headed outside, where Logan was leaning against his truck, hands in his pockets. The early evening air was cool, the sky tinged with the pinks and purples of a setting sun.

“Ready?” he asked as you approached, his tone casual, but his eyes still held that same unreadable depth.

“Yeah,” you replied, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

You climbed into the truck, the door creaking in protest. Logan started the engine, and the familiar rumble filled the cab. For a few moments, neither of you spoke, the silence filled only by the sound of tires on asphalt as he pulled out of the diner’s parking lot.

As he drove down the winding road toward your place, you stole glances at him, trying to piece together the puzzle that was Logan. There was so much you didn’t know about him, and yet, there was a strange sense of comfort in his presence.

Finally, you broke the silence. “Thanks for this. I wasn’t sure how I was going to get home.”

“Least I could do,” he replied, eyes fixed on the road.

You nodded, though he couldn’t see it. “Why’d you come back?”

Logan glanced at you briefly before returning his attention to the road. “Figured you’d need help getting home.”

A few minutes passed in comfortable silence before your place came into view. You directed him to pull into the driveway, the truck coming to a stop with a low rumble. Neither of you made a move to get out right away.

“Thanks again, Logan,” you said, your voice softer now, almost reluctant to let go of this strange, unexpected connection.

He nodded, finally turning to meet your gaze. “It was no trouble,” he said, his tone light, though there was a flicker of something more in his eyes. You hesitated, your hand resting on the door handle, sensing he had something else to say. His lips parted slightly as if weighing the words.

“I got a job,” he said, almost as if testing how it would sound out loud.

Your eyes widened in surprise. “That’s great! I guess I’ll be seeing you in more plaid then.”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “How did you know?”

You returned the smile. “Most men around here are lumberjacks. It’s the best work.”

Logan’s smile lingered for a moment before he turned his gaze back to the windshield. “Yeah, lumberjacking,” he said as if trying on the word for size. “It’s honest work. Keeps you busy.”

“Hard work, too,” you added, leaning back in your seat, feeling a mix of relief and something you couldn’t quite name. “But I guess that’s what you’re looking for.”

He nodded, the lightness in his voice giving way to something more serious. “Keeps me out of trouble,” he said, though there was an edge to his tone, a hint of the trouble he was alluding to.

We both fell silent again, the air thick with unspoken words. There was so much you wanted to ask him, to understand about this man who had somehow become a part of your life in a single day. But you held back, knowing that pushing too hard could drive him away.

Instead, you settled for something simpler. “Well, if you ever need a good meal after a long day, you know where to find me.”

He looked over at you, his expression softening. “I might just take you up on that,” he said, his voice carrying a warmth that surprised you.

You smiled, feeling a strange comfort in the idea of seeing him again. “I’ll hold you to it.”

With that, the moment passed, and you both knew it was time to part ways. You reached for the door handle again, this time more decisively. “Good luck with the job, Logan,” you said as you stepped out of the truck, the cool evening air brushing against your skin.

“Thanks,” he replied, watching you for a moment longer before turning his gaze back to the windshield. “Be more careful.”

You nodded, closing the door behind you, and watched as he pulled out of your driveway, the truck’s taillights glowing faintly in the gathering dusk. You stood there for a moment, your hands in your pockets, feeling the quiet of the evening settle around you.

As the sound of his truck faded into the distance, you couldn’t help but wonder what tomorrow would bring. There was a sense of change in the air, a feeling that your life was shifting in ways you hadn’t anticipated. But for once, it didn’t scare you. Instead, it filled you with cautious hope, the kind that made you think maybe, just maybe, you were done running.

You turned and headed toward your front door, a small smile playing on your lips. Whatever was coming, you felt ready to face it—one day at a time.

─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────

Sunlight peeked through your curtains as you sat up in bed, stifling a yawn. The quiet of living surrounded by nothing but forest filled your ears—an almost tangible silence—until it was broken by a sudden knock at the door.

You groaned, reluctantly crawling out of bed to throw on an oversized shirt before heading to the front door. Cautiously, you peered through the peephole and saw Logan standing there, fidgeting slightly. He wore a dark blue plaid shirt, the top few buttons undone, revealing a glimpse of his chest.

Your brows knitted together in confusion as you wondered what he was doing here, especially this early. Slowly, you unlocked the door and pulled it open. “Hey,” you greeted him, crossing your arms, both curious and guarded.

His eyes wandered over you, his brow lifting in question. “You’re not ready?”

“Why would I be?” you replied, confusion clouding your features as you looked up at him.

“I thought you might need a ride to work again,” he said, his tone casual but his eyes searching yours for a reaction.

“Oh, I should’ve told you yesterday—I’m off today. Sorry about that,” you said, a hint of embarrassment creeping into your voice.

He nodded, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “No worries. I was just passing by.”

“Shouldn’t you be chopping down trees?” you teased, a playful glint in your eye.

Logan chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. “You caught me. I’m on my way now. Just thought I’d see if you needed a ride.”

The gesture took you by surprise. It was small, but it hinted at a concern that you weren’t used to, especially from someone you’d only just met. “That’s... really nice of you,” you said, dropping your arms to your sides, your guard softening a bit more.

He shrugged, though the smile lingered. “Figure it’s the least I can do after yesterday.”

You nodded, appreciating his thoughtfulness more than you expected. “Well, I appreciate it.”

There was a brief, comfortable silence between you, the kind that felt less like an ending and more like a pause—like there was more to say, but neither of you was quite ready to say it.

“So, you gonna be okay without a car?” he asked, finally breaking the silence.

You glanced back toward the driveway, where your car sat after being towed home, still banged up from the other day. “I’ll have to get it towed into town,” you said, a hint of frustration in your voice. “But I’ll manage.”

Logan nodded. “If you need help with that, just let me know. I’ve got some tools, could take a look or maybe once I make some money I could help you buy a new one.”

“Thanks,” you replied, touched by his offer. “You’ve done a lot already.”

“Alright, I’ll let you get back to your day. Don’t wanna keep you.”

You gave him a small smile, feeling an unexpected reluctance to see him go. “Good luck with the trees.”

He chuckled, the sound easing the lingering tension. “Yeah, thanks. Take care, okay?”

“You too, Logan,” you said, watching as he turned and walked back to his truck.

As he drove away, you stood there for a moment, feeling the warmth of the morning sun on your face. The encounter had left you with a strange mixture of emotions—gratitude, curiosity, and a faint sense of anticipation. Logan was becoming more than just the stranger who had helped you out. He was someone you were beginning to feel connected to, in a way that both excited and unnerved you.

With a deep breath, you turned back inside, closing the door behind you.

You hadn’t expected to see Logan again so soon. Your day had been busy—cleaning the house, flipping through the phonebook, and using the landline to call local mechanics. The morning slipped into the evening quickly, the hours blurring together in a steady rhythm of tasks.

You had just finished making dinner, the scent of food filling the kitchen, a beer in hand, when a familiar knock echoed through the quiet, catching you off guard. Quickly, you made your way to the door, a sense of recognition washing over you—Logan. You could tell it was him even before you opened it, just from the energy he brought with him.

“Hello again,” you greeted him with a grin, leaning casually against the doorframe. “I guess you just can’t get enough of me, huh?”

Logan chuckled, the corners of his mouth lifting into a faint smile. “Maybe,” he replied, his tone light but his eyes still holding that intensity you were starting to get used to. “Or maybe I just figured I’d check in. See how you’re doing.”

You raised an eyebrow, pretending to consider his words. “So, you’re playing the concerned neighbor now?” you teased, though you couldn’t deny the warmth his gesture stirred within you.

“Something like that,” he said, leaning slightly against the doorframe opposite you. “Plus, I figured you might need some help with your car.”

“I wasn’t expecting a mechanic at my door, but I’m not complaining,” you said, your grin widening. “Dinner’s just about ready. If you don’t mind a little company while you wait, you’re welcome to stay.”

Logan hesitated for a moment as if weighing his options. “I wouldn’t want to impose,” he finally said, though his eyes betrayed a hint of interest.

“It’s no imposition,” you assured him. “Consider it my way of saying thanks for the ride yesterday—and for coming back today.”

He nodded, accepting your invitation with a small, grateful smile. “Alright then,” he said. “I could use a good meal.”

You stepped aside, letting him in. As he walked past you into the warm, cozy kitchen, you noticed the subtle tension in his posture ease slightly, as if the atmosphere of your home provided a welcome change from whatever he was used to.

“Make yourself comfortable,” you said, gesturing toward the small dining table. “I’ll grab you a plate.”

Logan took a seat, glancing around the kitchen as if taking in the details. “Smells good,” he remarked, his voice softer now, less guarded.

“Thanks,” you replied, setting a plate in front of him before sitting down across from him. “It’s nothing fancy, but it’ll fill you up.”

He nodded, picking up his fork and taking a bite. For a few moments, the two of you ate in comfortable silence, the quiet punctuated only by the clinking of silverware. There was something oddly intimate about the moment—sharing a meal, the easy quiet between you. It felt natural like this wasn’t the first time you’d sat across from each other at the table.

After a while, Logan looked up, his eyes meeting yours. “You didn’t have to invite me in, you know.”

You shrugged, offering a warm smile. “I know, but I wanted to.” You paused, setting your fork down. “Besides, you’re not as scary as you try to be.”

“Guess you’ve got me all figured out,” Logan replied, a playful glint in his eyes.

You watched him for a moment, the smile tugging at your lips growing a little wider. “Maybe,” you said with a teasing lilt. “Anyway, how was your first day? Chopping trees and all?”

Logan leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression crossing his face as he considered your question. “It was… different,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair. “But it’s honest work. That counts for something, I suppose—more than what I used to do.”

There it was—a crack in his carefully constructed walls. A small, revealing glimpse into Logan’s past. But was it an invitation to know more or just a slip-up?

“I don’t know why I said that,” he admitted, shaking his head slightly as if trying to make sense of it himself. “Something about you… makes me want to spill my guts.”

You chuckled nervously, your lips pursed as you tried to process his unexpected admission. Logan’s eyes narrowed slightly, picking up on the shift in your demeanor as your gaze flickered away from his. “I have a way of soothing people—calming them down,” you offered, trying to deflect the tension.

His eyes studied you intently, a new spark of interest igniting. “You’re like me, aren’t you?” he asked quietly. “A mutant?”

You nodded, a wave of guilt washing over you. It felt like you’d been hiding something from Logan, even though he hadn’t asked directly. “Figures. I moved here to get away from being called a mutant, only to have one find me,” you said, a wry smile tugging at your lips.

“I ran because I didn’t fit in,” you admitted, your voice quieter now. “My parents… they didn’t understand. They wanted to fix me, cure this disease as they called it. So, I turned to people I thought did understand—other mutants. Except they didn’t just want to live in peace. They wanted to rebel. If humans didn’t understand us, then we’d make them.”

Logan’s expression hardened as you continued your story. “I thought I was making a positive change in the world. Who cared if people got hurt in the process, as long as we got what we wanted… power but I realized too late that wasn’t what I wanted to fight for. By then, I’d already created enemies, and killed innocent people—”

You trailed off, feeling your emotions spiral out of control, the weight of your past pressing down on you. Taking a deep breath, you tried to steady yourself, pushing the memories back down. “Anyway,” you continued, “I ran. I ran for a long time until I found this place and decided to call it home.”

Logan shifted slightly in his chair, his hand instinctively reaching across the table, but you shook your head, stopping him. “I make you feel calm because that’s my gift,” you explained, your voice steady but laced with caution. “I do it without even realizing it. I can intensify any emotion, and if I were to touch you… I’d feel your strongest emotion and amplify it. The same goes for memories. I can change the emotions you felt, manipulate them.”

Logan’s hand froze mid-reach, his expression hardening as he processed what you’d just said. His eyes, which had been soft with concern moments ago, now held a flicker of something else—wary curiosity, maybe even fear.

“You can change memories?” he asked, his voice low, almost as if he was testing the words on his tongue.

You nodded slowly, your heart heavy with the truth you’d just revealed. “It’s not something I do lightly,” you said, trying to ease the tension you felt building between you. “I’ve learned to control it, to keep my distance when I need to but the ability is always there, under the surface.”

Logan’s gaze bore into you, searching for something—reassurance, perhaps, or maybe the boundaries of your power. “So, if you wanted to… you could make me feel something that never happened?”

“Or change how you feel about something that did,” you admitted, feeling a pang of guilt at how vulnerable that made him. “But I wouldn’t. Not without reason. It’s not who I want to be.”

He leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable, a long silence stretching between you. It was the kind of silence that felt like a crossroads—where trust could either be built or shattered.

Finally, he sighed, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “That’s a lot of power to carry around,” he said, his tone softer now, less guarded.

“It is,” you agreed, relief washing over you as you saw the tension in him ease. “It’s why I’ve been so careful. Why I ran. I didn’t want to hurt anyone anymore.”

Logan nodded, his gaze softening again as he looked at you, understanding beginning to replace the earlier wariness. “It sounds like you’ve been carrying this burden for a long time.”

You swallowed, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. “Yeah,” you said quietly. “Too long.”

There was another pause, this one less tense, more contemplative. Logan seemed to be weighing something in his mind, his eyes studying you with a depth that made your heart race.

“I guess we’ve both got our share of secrets,” he finally said, his tone almost resigned, as if accepting the complexity of what lay between you.

You offered him a small, tentative smile. “It’s not easy to trust, but I can sense you understand better than anyone.”

He nodded a flicker of hesitation in his gaze. “Yeah. I guess this is the part where I tell you why I’m here?”

“Only if you want to,” you replied, giving him a small shrug. “We don’t have to swap war stories just because I told you mine.”

Logan leaned back in his chair, his gaze dropping to the table as if he were searching for the right words. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the internal struggle of whether to share what he’d kept hidden for so long. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he began to speak, his voice low and gravelly.

“My brother and I… we’ve been fighting our whole lives,” he started, his tone resigned but tinged with a weariness that spoke of years of battles, both literal and figurative. “We’ve fought in every major war you’ve heard of, and plenty you haven’t. We’re old—older than you’d believe. Back then, it felt like fighting was all we knew, all we were good at.”

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle over the room. You didn’t press him, sensing that this was as difficult for him as your story had been for you.

“After the Vietnam War ended, things changed,” he continued, his voice taking on a darker edge. “We were approached by a group—a mutant group called Team X. They promised us purpose, a place where we could belong. We were soldiers, after all, and that’s what we did best. My brother, Victor, was all in from the start. He always had a taste for violence, even when it wasn’t necessary. He thrived in that environment.”

Logan’s expression tightened, a flicker of pain crossing his features as he spoke about his brother. “But me… I started to see things differently. Team X wasn’t just about fighting battles—they were about control, about power at any cost. And Victor… he embraced that. Started killing people just because he could, because it made him feel strong. Innocent people. I couldn’t be a part of that.”

He looked up at you then, his eyes filled with a mix of regret and resolve. “So I walked away. Left the team, and left my brother. Tried to find some kind of peace, if that’s even possible for someone like me. But Victor… he didn’t stop. He kept going, kept killing, and I’ve been running from it ever since.”

You watched him in silence, the weight of his confession heavy between you. It was clear that Logan carried the scars of his past deeply, that his brother’s betrayal had cut him in ways that were hard to put into words.

“I guess that’s why I’m here,” he said, his voice softening. “Looking for a place to hide, to forget. But it’s not so easy, is it? No matter how far you run, the past has a way of catching up.”

You nodded, understanding all too well the truth in his words. “No, it’s not easy,” you agreed quietly. “But it sounds like you made the right choice. Walking away, even when it cost you everything.”

Logan looked at you, the corners of his mouth twitching into something that might have been a smile, though it was more sadness than anything else. “Maybe…but it doesn’t change what happened. Doesn’t change who I am.”

“I guess that makes two of us,” you replied, your voice soft but steady.

There was a long pause as the two of you sat there, letting the weight of what had been shared settle between you. It was a strange feeling, this mutual vulnerability. You had each opened up parts of yourselves that were usually kept hidden, and in doing so, had created a bond—fragile, but undeniably real.

The two of you sat there for a moment longer, letting the words linger in the air, before Logan finally stood up, pushing his chair back with a gentle scrape. “I should probably get going,” he said, though his voice was reluctant.

You nodded, standing up as well. “Yeah, big day tomorrow,” you said, offering him a genuine smile. “And thanks for stopping by. Don’t worry about fixing my car—I know you were lying about stopping to save the squirrel.”

Logan chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Yeah, you caught me,” he admitted, a playful glint in his eyes. “I figured the squirrel excuse was better than admitting you were the one who rear-ended me.”

You shook your head, amused by his honesty. You felt a warmth spread through you as he headed for the door but before he opened it, he paused, glancing back at you. “You sure you’ll be okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” you assured him, your tone light but sincere.

Logan nodded, his gaze holding yours for a moment longer as if he was weighing whether or not to say something else. But instead, he simply gave you a small, reassuring smile. “Alright then. I’ll see you in the morning unless your car magically fixes itself.”

“Okay.” you smiled, watching as he finally turned the knob and stepped out into the cool night air.

You stood by the door for a moment after he left, listening to the fading sound of his truck as it rumbled down the driveway and disappeared into the distance. The house felt quiet and still, but it wasn’t the kind of silence that made you uneasy. Instead, it felt like the calm after a storm—a moment of peace after the intensity of what had been shared.

As you turned away from the door and began to tidy up the kitchen, you couldn’t help but reflect on how much had changed in such a short amount of time. Logan’s unexpected presence in your life had stirred up feelings and memories you’d long tried to bury, but it had also given you something else—hope. Hope that you weren’t as alone as you’d always believed and that maybe, just maybe, there was a way to find peace with your past.

You sighed, leaning against the counter as you thought back to the conversation you’d had. The way Logan had opened up to you about his brother, about the wars and the pain he carried—it resonated with you in a way that few things ever had. There was a part of you that wanted to help him carry that burden, to share in the weight of it, just as he’d seemed willing to do with yours.

But you knew it wouldn’t be easy. Trust was a fragile thing, easily broken and difficult to rebuild. Yet, as you stood there in the quiet of your kitchen, you found yourself more willing to take that risk than you’d ever been before.

With a final glance at the door, you turned off the lights and headed to bed, feeling a strange mixture of exhaustion and anticipation. Tomorrow was a new day, and while you didn’t know exactly what it would bring, you felt more prepared to face it.

─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────

A month had passed, and your whole life had changed. Logan showed up every morning to pick you up and drop you off at work. With him around, fixing your car seemed unnecessary. On your days off, he’d come over after his work, and the two of you would share dinner.

You began to forget what life was like before he showed up. The days without him seemed distant, almost unreal as if they belonged to someone else’s story. Logan had become woven into the fabric of your everyday life, making the idea of going back to how things were feel impossible.

It wasn’t just the routines that had changed—it was everything. The quiet of your home no longer felt lonely, the days were filled with a sense of purpose, and the nights were shared with someone who understood the weight of your past. Logan wasn’t just a part of your life now; he was the anchor that kept you grounded.

The walls you’d once kept around your heart were slowly crumbling, and with each day that passed, you found yourself opening up to Logan more and more. He, in turn, shared pieces of his life with you—stories about his past, his experiences, and even his fears. The trust between you grew, a steady bond that neither of you took for granted.

One evening, after another quiet dinner, the two of you found yourselves lingering at the table, the conversation winding down but neither of you wanted to move. The night outside was still, the only sound was the gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze.

Logan broke the silence first. “You know,” he began, his voice soft, almost contemplative, “I never thought I’d find something like this.”

“Like what?” you asked, your curiosity piqued.

He looked at you, his expression serious yet warm. “This… peace. After everything I’ve been through, I didn’t think it was possible but you… you make it feel real like I can have a life without being a monster.”

“Logan. You aren’t a monster.” You said reaching across the table to gently take his hand. “We did what we thought was best and sometimes our best is all we can do.”

Logan nodded, softly rubbing his thumb against your skin in a comforting manner. You sighed, leaning closer to him wishing moments like this never had to end. “You know, I didn’t think it was possible either,” you admitted, your voice just as soft. “ To have a life without chaos but somehow, here we are.”

He smiled a genuine, heartfelt expression that made your chest tighten in the best possible way. “Yeah,” he said, his tone almost reverent. “Here we are.”

The moment hung between you, charged with an unspoken energy. Your gaze drifted to Logan’s lips, slightly parted, as his eyes darkened. “We shouldn’t,” you murmured, though your voice wavered. Despite your words, you found yourself leaning closer, your arm brushing against his.

Every instinct screamed at you to leap out of your chair, to break the tension by jumping into his lap in a sudden burst of energy, but you stayed planted, caught between desire and restraint.

Logan’s gaze didn’t waver, his eyes still locked on yours. The air between you seemed to thrum with the tension of what wasn’t being said, the words tangled up with everything you both wanted but were too afraid to reach for. His arm brushed against yours again, the contact sending a jolt of warmth through you, grounding you in the moment.

“I know we shouldn’t,” Logan finally whispered, his voice rough and low, as if he were struggling with the same emotions that were swirling inside you. “But it’s hard… being this close and pretending there’s nothing there.”

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breath, but your pulse was racing, and it was getting harder to remember why you had even said those words in the first place. “Logan…”

He shifted closer, the movement slow, deliberate. “Tell me to stop,” he murmured, though his tone suggested he wasn’t entirely sure he could. “Tell me, and I will.”

But you didn’t say anything. You couldn’t. Instead, you found yourself leaning in, the pull between you undeniable, your lips almost brushing his.

And then, before either of you could change your mind, the distance disappeared.

His lips met yours with a quiet intensity that made your heart skip a beat. The world around you seemed to blur, narrowing down to the sensation of his mouth on yours, the warmth of his touch as his hand found its way to the small of your back, drawing you closer.

For a moment, everything else fell away—the doubts, the fears, the reasons you’d given yourself to keep your distance. All that mattered was this, the connection you’d been dancing around for weeks now, finally igniting.

You felt yourself relax into the kiss, your hand moving up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm. It was real, and for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe this was okay—that maybe, in Logan’s arms, you could find something good, something that wouldn’t be taken away by the past.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, you found Logan’s gaze on you, his eyes still dark but now filled with something softer—something that spoke of promises and a future that, for the first time, didn’t feel quite so uncertain.

“We should take this slow,” you managed to say, your voice a whisper, still trying to catch your breath.

Logan nodded, a small, understanding smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah,” he agreed, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek. “Slow is good. We’ve got time.”

You nodded too, feeling a sense of relief mixed with excitement. “Time,” you echoed, letting the word settle between you, a reminder that there was no need to rush—no need to force what was already building naturally between you.

Logan held his forehead against yours, his breath warm and steady, mingling with your own. For a long moment, neither of you moved, content to stay in that stillness, where words weren’t needed. It felt like the world outside had faded away, leaving just the two of you and the quiet connection you shared.

You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to be fully present in the moment. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, the strength in his arms as they wrapped around you, and the calm that settled over you as you breathed in his scent—earthy, familiar, grounding.

“I’ve been alone for so long,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that you felt more than heard. “I never thought… I never thought I’d find something like this. Like you.”

His words sent a warm flutter through your chest, a sensation that you weren’t entirely used to but were starting to crave. You opened your eyes, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. The vulnerability you saw there mirrored your own, and it made you want to hold on to him even tighter.

“You’re not alone anymore,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside you.

Logan’s eyes softened, and he nodded slightly as if acknowledging a truth that had taken him a long time to accept. “I know,” he said quietly, his hand moving up to gently cup the side of your face.

You leaned into his touch, feeling the warmth of his palm against your cheek, the comfort of his presence. It was a simple gesture, but it carried the weight of everything you both had been through—your pasts, your fears, your hopes for what might come next.

Eventually, Logan pulled back slightly, his hand still lingering on your cheek. “I should probably go,” he said, though there was a hint of reluctance in his voice.

You sighed, a wave of sadness washing over you. “Why don’t you stay? Please stay.”

He chuckled softly, raising an eyebrow. “What happened to taking it slow?”

“I’m not asking you to move in,” you replied with a small smile. “I bet you would get a better night's sleep here than at your place.”

Logan’s gaze softened, but there was a seriousness in his eyes. “I can’t. If I stay… I don’t think I can control myself.”

You held his gaze, your heart fluttering at the intensity in his eyes. “I trust you, Logan,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside you. “But I understand.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond, his eyes searching yours as if weighing his options. The air between you felt thick with unspoken words, with the tension of wanting something you both knew you needed to be careful with.

Finally, he sighed, a mix of frustration and restraint in his breath. “It’s not about trust,” he murmured, his voice rough. “It’s about wanting you too much, too soon.”

You nodded, feeling a pang of disappointment but also a sense of respect for his honesty. “Oh,” you whispered, not pushing any further. “Goodnight, Logan.”

His gaze softened further, and with a gentle touch, he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear before leaning in. His lips pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, a silent promise of patience and understanding.

“Goodnight,” he whispered back, his voice barely above a breath, before he finally stepped back, his hand trailing down your arm as he moved toward the door.

As he opened it, the cool night air rushed in stark contrast to the warmth that had filled the room moments before. You watched as he paused in the doorway, glancing back at you one last time, a small, almost reluctant smile on his lips.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, a promise in his tone.

“I’ll be here,” you replied, your voice steady, though your heart ached just a little as you watched him leave.

When the door closed behind him, the room felt emptier, the silence heavier. However, as you climbed into bed, pulling the covers up around you, you let yourself drift off to sleep with a smile on your face, the memory of Logan’s touch lingering on your skin like a promise.

─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of Logan’s truck pulling into the driveway. A familiar warmth spread through you at the thought of seeing him again. You dressed quickly, eager to be near him.

When you opened the door, Logan was already standing there, leaning against the side of his truck with his hands in his pockets. As you approached, he looked up, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Morning,” he greeted you, his voice warm but carrying a hint of something more—something that lingered from the night before.

“Morning,” you replied, matching his smile. Without hesitation, he pushed himself off the truck and pulled you into an embrace, pressing a soft kiss to your head.

“Why don’t you drive me to work and then use my truck to do whatever you want,” Logan suggested, his eyes meeting yours as you looked up at him.

You chuckled, the idea warming you. “Not much to do around here, but I’ll take you up on that offer.”

The drive was longer than you expected, but it gave you time to talk. Logan kept one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting comfortably on your thigh, his focus mostly on the road ahead. Now and then, he’d glance over at you, a small smile tugging at his lips, as if he couldn’t help but be reassured by your presence.

When you arrived at the lumberyard, Logan parked the truck and turned to face you. “I left some money in the glovebox for you.”

“Gee, maybe I can find something nice to buy,” you teased, leaning toward him with a playful grin.

Logan smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement as he leaned in closer, closing the small distance between you. “Just don’t spend it all in one place,” he quipped, his voice low and teasing.

You rolled your eyes, but the smile on your face gave away your amusement. “I’ll try to restrain myself,” you replied, the playful banter making the moment feel light and easy.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the proximity sparking a quiet tension between you. His gaze flickered down to your lips, and you could feel your heart start to race.

Logan hesitated, then pulled back slightly, a soft sigh escaping his lips. “I should get going,” he said, his voice still warm but now edged with the responsibility of the day ahead. “Don’t want to be late.”

You nodded, biting your lip to keep from asking him to stay. Logan reached out, his hand brushing lightly against your cheek, a tender touch that sent a shiver down your spine before he pulled away entirely. With one last lingering look, he opened the door and stepped out of the truck.

You cursed under your breath, sliding over to the driver's side and jumping out. “Logan,” you called, your voice urgent. He stopped in his tracks, turning around just as you reached him. Before he could say a word, you grabbed him by the neck, pulling him toward you, your lips crashing against his.

Logan stiffened for a brief moment, caught off guard by the suddenness of your kiss, but then he melted into it, his hands finding their way to your waist, pulling you closer. The world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of you standing there in the cool morning air, locked in a kiss that spoke of all the unspoken emotions that had been simmering between you.

His lips moved against yours with a tenderness that contrasted with the urgency of the moment as if he was trying to savor every second. You could feel the warmth of his breath, the steady beat of his heart as it pressed against your chest, and the way his hands tightened slightly on your waist, grounding you in the reality of what was happening.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, Logan’s eyes searched yours, a mix of surprise, desire, and something deeper that neither of you had put into words yet. His forehead rested against yours as both of you tried to catch your breath.

“What was that for?” he asked, his voice a low rumble, though the hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

You smiled, your breath coming in soft gasps. “Just… couldn’t let you walk away without doing that.”

His smile widened, and he leaned in, pressing another brief, tender kiss to your lips, this one softer, less urgent but no less meaningful. “I’m not complaining,” he murmured, his voice warm with affection.

“Have a good day,” you replied, your voice steady.

Logan nodded, his hand coming up to gently cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “I will thanks to you.”

Logan glanced at the lumberyard behind him, a reminder of the day ahead. “I do have to go,” he said, regret lacing his words.

You nodded, stepping back to give him space. “I know. I’ll see you later.”

He hesitated for a second, then gave you a final, lingering look before turning and walking away, his strides confident but with an underlying reluctance, as if leaving you was the last thing he wanted to do.

As you climbed back into the truck, the taste of his lips still lingering on yours, a smile tugged at your lips. You turned your attention to the glovebox, opening it to find a small stack of bills. He didn’t have to leave you money, but it was a thoughtful gesture—one that showed just how much he cared.

Starting the truck, you pulled out of the parking lot, feeling a sense of peace as the early morning light cast a warm glow over the landscape. There wasn’t much to do in town, but the idea of having a little time to yourself—and the freedom of Logan’s truck at your disposal—felt like a small adventure in itself.

As you drove, your thoughts drifted to how much had changed in such a short time. Logan had become an integral part of your life, his presence comforting and constant. The days of feeling isolated and alone were fading into the background, replaced by the warmth of connection and the promise of something more.

By the time you reached the small town center, you had a few ideas on how to spend your morning. You parked the truck and stepped out, breathing in the crisp air as you glanced around. The shops were just beginning to open, and you decided to take a stroll down the main street.

You wandered past the general store, the hardware shop, and the small café that was starting to fill with its usual morning crowd. Something was charming about the simplicity of it all, something that put you at ease.

The day passed quickly, the hours slipping by as you wandered through the town, enjoying the simple pleasure of a day to yourself. As the afternoon sun began to dip lower in the sky, you found yourself thinking about Logan and the quiet, comforting moments you’d shared that morning. A thought crossed your mind, and a small smile spread across your face.

With the money Logan had left in the glovebox, you decided to treat him to something special—a nice dinner for the two of you. It wasn’t much, but it was a way to show your appreciation for everything he’d done, for the way he’d been there for you, even in such a short time.

─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────

After getting back home, you started on dinner while Logan went to take a shower. You thought you had more time, but soon enough, Logan stepped into the kitchen, looking pleasantly surprised to find you bustling around. “What’s all this?” he asked, his voice filled with curiosity and warmth.

You turned to face him, noticing his hair still slightly damp. “I decided to use the money you left me to treat us to a nice dinner. I hope you’re hungry.”

A grin spread across Logan’s face as he walked over to you, his eyes filled with appreciation. “This smells amazing,” he said, leaning in to give you a quick kiss on the cheek. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

“I wanted to,” you replied, feeling a warmth spread through you at his touch. “It’s my way of saying thank you—for everything.”

Logan’s gaze softened, and he reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m the one who should be thanking you,” he said quietly. “But let’s call it even.”

You laughed softly, the sound mingling with the clinking of dishes as you finished setting the table. “Deal. Now, sit down.” You teased, gesturing toward the chair.

As the two of you sat down to dinner, the evening unfolded in a series of easy, comfortable moments—laughter, conversation, and the simple pleasure of sharing a meal with someone you cared about. The connection between you felt even stronger, the bond deepening with each shared word, and each exchanged a glance.

By the time the meal was finished, the night felt like a warm, enveloping blanket, wrapping the two of you in its embrace. Logan reached across the table, taking your hand in his, and you could feel the strength and tenderness in his grip.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice soft but filled with meaning. “For this. For everything.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection as you pressed your lips gently to his hand. “I want you to stay tonight,” you whispered, the words carrying both vulnerability and hope.

Logan’s eyes softened as he gazed at you, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just looked at you as if trying to memorize every detail of your face. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and steady, full of quiet sincerity.

“I want that too,” he admitted, his words heavy with the weight of the decision. “More than you know.”

Relief washed over you, mingling with the warmth that had been building between you all evening. The simple act of asking him to stay had felt monumental, and now, with his answer, it felt like something had clicked into place—something that had been hovering just out of reach, now within your grasp.

Logan stood up slowly, his hand still holding yours as he walked around the table to stand beside you. He helped you to your feet, and for a moment, you just stood there, facing each other in the soft glow of the kitchen lights. The world outside felt distant, and irrelevant, as if the only thing that mattered was the two of you, here and now.

Without another word, Logan pulled you into his arms, holding you close. You could feel the steady beat of his heart against your chest and could sense the calm that had settled over him. You knew this was a big step for both of you, but it felt right—like it was the natural progression of everything that had been building between you.

His hand moved to cup your face, tilting it up so he could look into your eyes. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper as if giving you one last chance to change your mind.

You nodded, your lips curving into a small, reassuring smile. “I’m sure, Logan. I want this.”

His eyes darkened slightly, with something deeper, more intense. Then, without another word, he leaned in and kissed you—softly at first, then with more urgency as the reality of the moment sank in. The kiss was full of unspoken promises, trust and desire, and everything that had been simmering between you.

When you finally broke apart, breathless, you didn’t need to say anything. The decision had already been made.

“I’ll clean this up later,” Logan said softly, his voice low and filled with warmth. “But right now, I just need you, sweetheart.”

He took your hand, leading you out of the kitchen and down the hallway to your bedroom. The night outside was dark, the world quiet, as the two of you stepped into the room, closing the door softly behind you.

The space felt different now—more intimate, more charged with the energy of what was about to happen. You stood together in the dim light, your hands still intertwined, and for a moment, you just looked at each other, letting the anticipation build.

Then Logan moved closer, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you against him. His touch was gentle, but there was an undercurrent of desire that made your pulse quicken. Slowly, he began to lift your shirt over your head, his movements careful and deliberate, as if savoring every moment.

“I’ll go slow unless you tell me otherwise,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin.

You smiled against his lips as your fingers worked to remove his shirt. He slipped it over his head, then cupped your face with both hands, his touch tender yet filled with intent.

“Just touch me, Logan,” you whispered, your voice carrying a mixture of need and trust. You had wanted this moment for a while, imagining how Logan’s hands would feel on you, how he would make you feel. After that kiss earlier, you knew there was no reason to hold back. Why take things slow when everything about this felt so right?

Logan’s gaze darkened with desire at your words, and he let out a quiet breath as if releasing the last of his restraint. “You’re so beautiful,” he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. His hands moved over your skin with a mix of reverence and urgency, as if savoring each touch but also needing more, needing all of you.

His touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine as he explored your body, his fingers tracing the contours of your skin as though committing them to memory.

Logan’s lips found yours again, the kiss deep and unrestrained, reflecting the intensity of everything that had been building between you. His hands roamed over you with more confidence now, as if your words had unlocked something inside him, permitting him to show you just how much he wanted you.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart?” Logan murmured, his voice thick with desire as his lips trailed hot kisses down your neck, each one igniting a deeper longing within you.

In response, you pushed him back toward the bed, a determined glint in your eyes. Logan allowed himself to be guided, his breath hitching as you climbed on top of him, your hands pressing against his chest to steady yourself.

“I want you,” you whispered, your voice steady and filled with intent. “I want all of you.”

Logan’s eyes darkened with a mix of surprise and pleasure, his hands instinctively gripping your hips, pulling you closer as he settled beneath you. The roles had shifted, and you reveled in the feeling of taking control, of showing him just how much you wanted this—wanted him.

“Then take it,” Logan rasped, his voice rough with desire as he met your gaze. “I’m yours.”

His breath came in ragged gasps as your hands traveled down his chest, stopping at the waistband of his sweats. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the hardness beneath you driving your own need to a fever pitch. The anticipation sent a shiver down your spine, and you clenched around nothing, the ache for him growing more intense with every passing second.

Logan’s hands tightened on your hips, his eyes darkening as he watched you, his control slipping as your fingers toyed with the edge of his sweatpants.

“Don’t stop,” Logan whispered, his voice hoarse, filled with both a plea and a command. His vulnerability in that moment, paired with the raw power he exuded, only made you want him more.

With a steadying breath, you slipped your fingers beneath the waistband, slowly easing his sweats down, revealing the full extent of his arousal. Logan groaned, his head tipping back against the pillow, the sound sending a rush of heat through you.

Your hands shook slightly, not from fear, but from the sheer intensity of what was happening. You’d both been building to this moment for so long and now that it was here, it felt almost surreal, too powerful.

You gently wrapped your hand around his cock, stroking it slowly, deliberately, just enough to tease him. The feeling of him in your hand, hard and heavy, sent a jolt of desire straight through you, making your breath hitch.

Logan’s reaction was immediate. His hands slid up your thighs, his touch firm but reverent until they gripped your hips with a need that matched your own. His fingers dug into your skin, holding you in place as his hips bucked slightly into your hand, a low growl escaping his lips.

“Fuck,” Logan breathed out, his voice thick with pleasure and restraint. His eyes, half-lidded with desire, locked onto yours, a silent plea and command mixed. “Don’t tease me.”

But the teasing was half the fun, the control you had over him intoxicating. You leaned in, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “I want to make you feel good.”

His grip on your hips tightened, and you could feel the tension in his body, coiled and ready to spring. But for now, you relished the control you had over him, the way you could make him unravel with just a touch.

But the need building within you was undeniable, and as much as you enjoyed teasing him, you wanted more. You wanted to feel him, to have him inside you, to bridge the gap that had been between you for far too long.

“Logan…” you murmured, your voice a mix of desire and pleading. “I need you.”

His response was immediate and primal, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he shifted beneath you, flipping you onto your back with a swiftness that took your breath away. He settled between your legs, his hands framing your face, his eyes burning with intent before pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“Then take me,” he whispered, his lips brushing against yours as he positioned himself at your entrance. “All of me.”

His hands then worked to pull down your panties revealing your needy cunt and with one fluid motion, he pushed into you, filling you completely, the connection between you snapping into place as if it had been meant to be all along. The sensation was overwhelming, every nerve in your body alive with the intensity of it.

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer as you both moved together, the rhythm natural and instinctive. Each thrust brought you closer to the edge, the pressure building inside you with a fierce intensity, mirrored in the way Logan’s grip tightened on your hips.

“Logan,” you gasped, your nails digging into his back as waves of pleasure surged through you. “Don’t stop,” you cried, your body trembling as you clenched around him, desperate for more.

Logan’s breath hitched, and you could feel him shudder above you, every muscle in his body tense as he fought to hold back. His voice was a low growl, rough with desire and restraint. “Don’t cum for me yet, sweetheart,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “I want to taste you.”

The promise in his words sent a jolt of anticipation through you, and your breath caught in your throat as you nodded, trusting him completely. Logan’s pace slowed, his movements deliberate as he pulled out of you, leaving you aching and yearning for his touch.

He kissed his way down your body, his lips trailing over your skin, each touch igniting a new wave of heat inside you. By the time he reached the apex of your thighs, you were trembling with need, your body taut with anticipation.

Logan glanced up at you, his eyes dark and hungry, as if savoring the sight of you laid out before him. He pressed a lingering kiss to your inner thigh, his hands gripping your hips to hold you steady. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe and desire.

And then he was there, his mouth on you, his tongue tracing slow, tantalizing circles that made your whole body arch off the bed. The sensation was overwhelming, the pleasure so intense that you could barely think, could barely breathe. You clutched at the sheets, your moans filling the room as Logan devoured you, his touch both gentle and insistent, driving you closer to the edge with every flick of his tongue.

He was relentless, his mouth working you with a skill that left you shaking, your entire being focused on the pleasure he was giving you. The tension inside you coiled tighter and tighter until it was almost unbearable.

“Logan,” you gasped, your voice trembling. “I—I can’t…” Your thighs pressed against the sides of his head. He moaned into you as if he wanted to be suffocated by you.

Logan didn’t stop. Instead, he redoubled his efforts, his tongue moving faster, his hands tightening on your hips as he held you in place. “Let go for me,” he murmured against you, his voice sending vibrations through your core. “I want to taste you.”

His words were your undoing. With a cry, you came undone, your release crashing over you in a wave that left you breathless, your body shaking uncontrollably as you found your peak. Logan didn’t let up, drawing out your orgasm until you were left gasping, your entire body trembling in the aftermath.

Only then did he pull back, kissing his way up your body until he was hovering over you again, his lips capturing yours in a deep, passionate kiss that tasted of you. “You’re incredible,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve thought about this for so long.”

You smiled against his lips, your fingers threading through his hair as you pulled him closer. “Me too,” you murmured, still breathless, your heart full of everything you felt for him.

Logan kissed you again, his hands roaming over your body with a renewed sense of urgency. He shifted, lifting your legs higher and positioning himself between your thighs, his cock teasing your entrance.

“Logan…” you whispered, your voice a mix of longing and need, your hips instinctively arching toward him.

His eyes met yours, dark and intense, as he paused, savoring the moment. “I need to feel you cum with me inside you,” he murmured, his voice husky with desire.

Slowly, he began to press into you, the sensation making you gasp as he stretched you. Logan’s gaze never left yours as he pushed deeper, his movements slow and deliberate, ensuring you felt every moment of it.

Your breath hitched, a soft moan escaping your lips as he bottomed out inside you, the sensation overwhelming in the best possible way. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he was holding himself back, giving you a moment to adjust, to fully take him in.

“God, you’re perfect,” Logan groaned, his hands gripping your hips as he began to move, setting a rhythm that was both slow and powerful, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. The feeling of him moving within you was intoxicating, every nerve in your body lighting up with pleasure. “Your little cunt just begging for more.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer, urging him on as the need inside you built to an unbearable level. Each stroke pushed you higher, the pleasure coiling tighter within you, ready to snap.

“Faster,” you whispered, your voice breathless, your nails digging into his shoulders as you clung to him. “Please, Logan…”

Logan’s restraint shattered at your plea, his pace quickening as he drove into you with a newfound urgency, his grip on your hips tightening. The sound of skin against skin filled the room, mingling with your gasps and his low, rough moans, creating a symphony of pure, unbridled passion.

The pleasure was overwhelming, each thrust sending you spiraling closer to your release. You could feel Logan’s control slipping, the tension in his body mirroring your own as he neared his climax.

“Come with me,” he rasped, his voice thick with need. “I want to feel you cum around me.”

His words sent you over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you with a force that left you trembling beneath him. You cried out his name, your body tightening around him as the waves of pleasure pulsed through you.

Logan followed you into oblivion, his release tearing through him as he buried himself deep inside you, his body shuddering as he let go. He groaned your name, his voice filled with raw emotion as he spilled into you, the intensity of it leaving him breathless.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, both of you lost in the aftershocks of what you’d just shared. Your hearts pounded in sync, your breaths mingling as you held each other close, the connection between you stronger than ever.

Finally, Logan lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours with a softness that took your breath away. He brushed his thumb across your cheek, his touch gentle and reverent.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe and affection.

You smiled, your heart swelling with love for the man above you. “I love you too,” you replied, your voice soft but heavy with the weight of everything you felt for him.

Logan’s eyes shone with emotion as he leaned down, capturing your lips in a slow, tender kiss. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close, his warmth enveloping you as he held you. The rhythm of his heartbeat under your ear, steady and strong, lulled you into a sense of peace you hadn’t felt in a long time.

As you drifted off to sleep in his embrace, you knew that this was where you were meant to be—with him, surrounded by a love that felt real.

─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────

“Logan?” you mumbled, turning over. Your hands fumbled around the bed, searching for Logan, but all you found was the lingering warmth he had left behind.

You sat up, sleepiness still clouding your eyes as you looked around the room, the eerie silence ringing in your ears. Slowly, you got out of bed and walked out of the bedroom, the soft glow of moonlight guiding you through the darkened hallway.

You knew Logan’s nightmares were bad. In the first few nights, he stayed over, he tried to hide them, keeping quiet and distant. Eventually, the truth became impossible to ignore. He would thrash under the covers, his body tense and restless, causing you to wake up and find him drenched in a cold sweat, haunted by whatever horrors his mind had conjured.

He was stubborn, refusing your help, convinced that he deserved the painful nightmares as a way to remind himself of who he was. No matter how many times you tried to reassure him, to tell him that he didn’t have to bear the weight of his past alone, Logan was resolute. He believed the nightmares were a punishment, a way to keep himself anchored to the man he once was, no matter how much pain they caused him. He would insist that they were his burden to bear, and he wouldn’t let you share in it, no matter how much you wanted to help.

It was frustrating, seeing him like this—tortured, stubborn, and determined to carry the weight of his guilt alone. Every night, you’d lie awake, listening to his breathing grow heavier, waiting for the moment when his dreams would turn into something darker, something that would tear him from sleep and leave him gasping for air.

He tried to put on a brave face during the day, but you could see the exhaustion etched into his features, the haunted look in his eyes that never fully went away. And yet, he wouldn’t let you in. He wouldn’t let you take any of the burden from his shoulders, even though it was clear that it was tearing him apart.

It never got easier to watch, especially now as you fumbled your way through the dark, desperate to find him. Your heart pounded in your chest, thoughts swirling as you entered the living room, hoping against hope that he’d be there.

It was empty.

“Logan?” you whispered, your voice trembling in the stillness, even though you knew deep down he wasn’t there.

Slowly, your feet padded against the wood floor toward the front door, which was slightly ajar. Your heart raced as it creaked open, the moonlight peeking through and casting eerie shadows on your face. For a split second, your heart stopped as you saw a figure standing outside, silhouetted against the night, gazing up at the sky.

However, you quickly realized it was Logan. His eyes were closed, his face peaceful as the cool breeze swirled around him. He was barefoot, wearing only sweats, as the moonlight bathed him in a soft, ethereal glow.

He turned toward you, a slight smile playing on his lips. “Come here,” he said, his voice gentle, inviting.

You stepped outside, the cool night air brushing against your skin as you walked toward Logan. He opened his eyes, his smile fading slightly as you approached.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you asked softly, searching his face for any sign of what might be troubling him. “Was it the nightmares again?”

Logan nodded, his expression shifting from peaceful to guarded, the familiar shadows returning to his eyes. “Yeah,” he murmured, almost as if admitting it aloud made it worse. “They’re always there, waiting…”

You reached out, gently taking his hand in yours, offering him the comfort of your touch. “I can help you with them,” you whispered, your voice steady but tender. “You don’t have to go through it alone.”

Logan hesitated, his gaze dropping to the ground as he weighed your words. “I don’t know…” he began, his voice trailing off. “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea. I don’t want you to see—”

You squeezed his hand, cutting him off gently. “Logan, you don’t have to protect me from this. I’m not afraid of what you’ve been through. I just want to be there for you.”

He looked up at you then, his eyes searching yours, filled with a mixture of vulnerability and something close to fear. “What if it’s too much?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “What if… what if it changes the way you see me?”

You stepped closer, bringing his hand up to your chest, letting him feel the steady rhythm of your heartbeat. “Nothing will change the way I see you,” you said, your voice firm. “I love every part of you, Logan. Even the parts you think are too dark, too broken. Let me in. Let me help.”

“I’m not who you think I am,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. “The things I’ve done… I don’t deserve your love.”

You reached out, placing a hand on his arm, feeling the tension in his muscles. “You deserve love, Logan. You deserve peace. I’m not going anywhere, no matter what you think you deserve.”

Logan stared at you for a long moment, the internal battle clear in his eyes. Finally, he gave a slow, reluctant nod, though the tension in his body didn’t entirely ease. “Alright,” he whispered, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

You smiled softly, lifting your hand to cup his cheek. “I love you,” you promised, your thumb brushing gently across his skin, a tender reminder of your unwavering support.

You held Logan’s gaze for a moment longer, letting the warmth of your touch seep into his skin, grounding him. Then, with a soft smile, you gently guided him back inside the house, the night air giving way to the comforting stillness of your home.

Once in the bedroom, you pulled back the covers and motioned for Logan to lie down beside you. He hesitated for a brief second, the tension still lingering in his shoulders, but then he did as you asked, trusting you with the parts of him that were still so fragile.

You lay down next to him, pressing your body close to his, reassuring him of your presence. His breathing was still uneven, the remnants of his turmoil evident in the tightness of his muscles.

Slowly, you reached out and placed your hand on his chest, over his heart, feeling the steady thrum beneath your palm. Closing your eyes, you let your power flow through you, focusing on the connection between you and Logan. It was an ability you had refined over the years, learning to use it not just to bring back memories, but to soothe and calm the storm inside people.

A soft, warm energy radiated from your hand, spreading through Logan’s body like a gentle wave. You could feel the tension beginning to ebb away, his breathing becoming more rhythmic, more at ease. As the calming energy enveloped him, you whispered reassuring words, barely audible, guiding him into a state of peace.

“Just relax. You’re safe. Just let go… I’ve got you.”

Logan’s body began to relax under your touch, the knots in his muscles slowly unraveling. His eyes fluttered closed, and you continued to channel the soothing energy, lulling him closer to sleep.

Before long, his breathing deepened, and his hand instinctively found yours, holding onto it as if it were his lifeline. He drifted off, the tension that had gripped him earlier now a distant memory. You stayed close, your power still working to shield him from the nightmares that had plagued him for so long.

But then, even in sleep, the shadows tried to creep in. Logan began to mumble, his brow furrowing as he tossed slightly, remnants of old fears threatening to pull him under. You tightened your grip on his hand and let your power surge a bit stronger, a soft, soothing balm that eased the distress in his mind.

The effect was immediate. Logan’s mumbling quieted, the lines on his forehead smoothing out as the calmness you projected enveloped him completely. For the first time in years, Logan found peace in sleep, undisturbed by the horrors of his past.

You watched him, your heart swelling with love as you stroked his hair gently, ensuring that the serenity remained. His grip on your hand relaxed, and a soft sigh escaped his lips as he settled deeper into the comfort of your presence.

As the moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room, you allowed yourself to relax as well. You could feel the steady rise and fall of Logan’s chest, the peaceful rhythm of his breath, and knew that, for now, he was safe. The man who had once been tormented by nightmares was finally resting, his mind at ease, protected by the love and power you shared.

As you lay there beside him, your hand still resting over his heart, you felt a deep sense of fulfillment. This was your place—right here, beside him, offering him the solace he had so often been denied. While it had only been a few months since your lives became intertwined, Logan meant so much more to you than he could realize.

His presence in your life had become a constant, a source of strength and comfort that you had never known before. The depth of your feelings for him had grown rapidly, surprising you with their intensity. There was something about Logan—his strength, his vulnerability, the way he fought against the darkness within him—that drew you to him like nothing else ever had.

Sometimes, in quiet moments like this, you wondered what the future held. Would you continue to help him heal, to be the anchor he needed? Would the two of you find peace together, or would the shadows of his past continue to haunt him? There were so many unknowns, so many questions that lingered in the back of your mind.

But as you listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your hand, you knew one thing for certain: you weren’t going anywhere. Whatever the future held, you were committed to facing it with him. You had found something rare and precious in Logan, and you weren’t willing to let it slip away.

“I’ll always protect you, Logan. No matter what,” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his chest.

He didn’t stir, but you knew, deep down, that he heard you.

For now, though, this was enough. This moment, with Logan safe and at peace beside you, was more than you could have ever hoped for and as sleep finally began to claim you, you knew that whatever the future held, you would face it together.

With that comforting thought, you allowed yourself to drift off, your hand still resting protectively over Logan’s heart, ready to shield him from the darkness, ready to walk beside him into whatever tomorrow might bring.

─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────

Two years had passed since that night when Logan first told you he loved you. In that time, your lives had settled into a comfortable rhythm, one that felt as natural as breathing. Logan had moved in not long after, and together, you had built a life that was simple but filled with love and contentment.

The house had become a true home, with little touches that reflected the two of you—photos from your adventures together, Logan’s tools neatly organized in the garage, and your shared collection of books lining the shelves. The days were spent in quiet harmony, whether working side by side in the garden, cooking meals together, or simply enjoying each other’s company on lazy Sunday afternoons.

One evening, as you sat on the porch watching the sun dip below the horizon, Logan reached over and took your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. The air was warm, the crickets beginning their evening chorus, and the world felt perfectly still.

“You ever think about the future?” he asked, his voice quiet but laced with curiosity.

You turned to look at him, a soft smile playing on your lips. “All the time,” you admitted. “What about you?”

Logan nodded, his gaze thoughtful as he stared out at the fading light. “Yeah, I do,” he said. “I never used to… not before you. But now… I think about it a lot.”

“What do you see when you think about it?” you asked, your heart swelling at the thought of a shared future with him.

He was silent for a moment as if carefully considering his words. “I think about us,” he began, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand. “Maybe getting married, starting a family. A life where we can just be… happy.”

His words sent a thrill through you, a mixture of excitement and contentment. “You’d want that?” you asked, your voice soft, almost disbelieving.

Logan turned to you then, his eyes filled with a sincerity that took your breath away. “More than anything,” he said.

Your heart felt like it could burst from the love you felt for him. “I want that too,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss him softly. After a moment, you pulled back, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Though I was kind of hoping you’d ask me to marry you more romantically.”

Logan’s hand moved to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. “I’m not a romantic guy,” he said but his voice held a laughter to it.

“Liar,” you replied, your fingers gently moving through his hair.

Logan’s smile widened, his eyes softening as he leaned in to kiss you again, this time with a mix of relief and joy. The simple exchange solidified the bond between you, a promise of a future built on love, trust, and the deep connection you shared.

The idea of marrying Logan, of starting a family together, filled you with a warmth that radiated through your entire being. It was a future you could see so clearly—a future that felt right, that felt like the culmination of everything you had both been through to get to this point.

Over the next few weeks, the two of you talked about your future often, making plans, and dreaming about the life you would build together. The prospect of marriage and starting a family became a beacon of hope and joy, something to look forward to, something that made each day even brighter.

But then, everything changed. You always knew the past would eventually catch up with you, but little did you know that Logan’s had never truly gone away.

Logan was at work at the lumberyard, and you were home, going about your usual routine. The sun was high in the sky, and the air filled with the scent of freshly cut wood, as Logan went about his tasks. It was a day like any other—until he saw him.

William Stryker.

Logan’s blood ran cold the moment he recognized the man standing at the edge of the yard, watching him with that familiar, calculating gaze. Stryker hadn’t changed much in the years since Logan had last seen him—still exuding that air of authority, still holding that unsettling glint in his eyes.

Logan stopped what he was doing, his entire body tensing as Stryker approached, his stride confident and purposeful. “Logan,” Stryker greeted him, his tone deceptively casual. “Been a long time.”

Logan clenched his jaw, his fists curling at his sides. “What do you want, Stryker?” he asked, his voice low and edged with anger.

Stryker smiled a cold, calculated smile that told Logan everything he needed to know. “I’m not here to cause trouble,” he said, holding up his hands as if in surrender. “Just want to have a little chat. Thought you might be interested in rejoining Team X.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed, his entire being rejecting the idea before Stryker had even finished speaking. “Not a chance,” he growled. “I’m done with that life.”

Stryker tilted his head as if considering Logan’s words. “You say that now,” he said slowly, “but things change, Logan. People change. I know you’ve built a life for yourself here, but how long do you think that will last? How long before you get bored… before you start craving the action again?”

Logan’s mind flashed to you—your smile, your laugh, the way you felt in his arms. The life you were building together, the plans you’d made for the future. That was what mattered to him now. Not the past, not the violence and chaos of Team X.

“Not interested,” Logan said firmly, turning his back on Stryker and walking away.

But Stryker wasn’t done. “You think this little dream of yours is going to last?” he called after Logan, his voice cutting through the noise of the yard. “You think you can escape what you are? Who you are?”

Logan stopped in his tracks, his muscles tensing with barely restrained fury. Yet, he didn’t turn around. He wouldn’t give Stryker the satisfaction.

“I’ll be around if you change your mind,” Stryker continued, his voice now calm and almost friendly. “You know where to find me.”

Logan forced himself to keep walking, his mind reeling from the encounter. He couldn’t let Stryker get to him. He couldn’t let him ruin what he had with you.

But even as he tried to push Stryker’s words from his mind, a sliver of doubt began to creep in. Could he escape his past? Could he keep that part of himself buried, hidden away, and focus on the future he wanted with you?

He didn’t know the answer, but as he made his way back home, one thing was certain: he wasn’t going to let Stryker destroy the life he had built. He wouldn’t let him take away the happiness he had found with you.

When he walked through the door that evening, you were there waiting for him, your smile bright and welcoming but as you looked into his eyes, you could see something was wrong.

“Logan?” you asked, concern lacing your voice as you reached out to touch his arm. “What happened?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he walked over to you, pulling you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you as if he were trying to shield you from something. His heart pounded against your chest, a frantic rhythm that matched your own.

You pulled back slightly, searching his face for answers. “What is it?”

Logan sighed, his expression pained. “Stryker found me.”

The name sent a chill down your spine. You had heard of William Stryker—Logan had told you enough about him for you to know that he was a man to be feared. A man who had once held power over Logan’s life in ways you could barely comprehend.

“What does he want?” you asked, your voice barely holding steady.

“He wants me to rejoin Team X,” Logan said, the words heavy with regret and anger. “He thinks I’ll go back to that life, but I told him no but he doesn’t take no for an answer.”

A wave of fear crashed over you, chilling you to the bone. You had known that Logan’s past was dark, but the reality of it coming back, threatening the life you’d built together, was more than you could bear.

“What are we going to do?” you asked, your voice small and trembling.

Logan took a deep breath, his grip tightening around you as if he could somehow protect you from the storm that was brewing. “We’re going to keep living our lives,” he said, his voice firm despite the turmoil you could see swirling in his eyes. “I’m not letting him take this away from us. I’m not going back to that life.”

“He's not going to stop, you just said so.” you pressed, fear and uncertainty creeping into your words. “He’ll keep coming after you.”

Logan’s eyes softened slightly as he looked at you, the tension in his expression giving way to something more tender. “I’ll handle it,” he promised. “I’ve fought worse battles, and I’ve come out the other side. I’m not going to let Stryker or anyone else take away what we have.”

His words were meant to reassure you, but the dread in your heart wouldn’t completely fade. You knew Logan was strong, but Stryker was a force that wouldn’t be easily deterred. Still, you nodded, wanting to believe that Logan could protect you, that he could protect the future you had planned together.

“Logan,” you whispered, your voice steadying as you looked into his eyes. You wanted to say a million things, but at that moment, nothing else mattered.

Logan shook his head slightly, as if to quiet your worries, before leaning down to press a tender kiss to your forehead. His lips lingered there, warm and reassuring, as if he could somehow transfer some of his strength to you. “I know,” he murmured, sensing the uneasiness that you couldn’t quite hide. “But I need you to promise me something.”

You looked up at him, your heart pounding as you waited for his words.

“If things get dangerous, if Stryker makes a move—promise me you’ll get out of here. Go somewhere safe.”

The thought of leaving him, of running away while he faced whatever Stryker had planned, made your stomach turn. “Logan, I can’t just leave you—”

“Promise me,” he interrupted his voice firm but laced with desperation. “I need to know you’ll be safe. That’s the only way I can fight this without losing my mind.”

You swallowed hard, the reality of the situation sinking in. Logan was willing to do whatever it took to protect you, even if it meant facing his past head-on and as much as it pained you. You knew you had to respect his wishes.

“I promise,” you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes. “But only if you promise to come back to me.”

Logan’s expression softened, and he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had begun to fall. “I promise,” he said, his voice full of conviction. “I’ll come back to you. Always.”

Deep down, a part of you couldn’t shake the fear that the life you had built was about to be torn apart.

The days that followed were tense, filled with an undercurrent of dread that neither of you could ignore. Logan continued to go to work, determined to maintain some sense of normalcy, but you could see the strain in his eyes every time he left the house.

You tried to keep busy, distracting yourself with everyday tasks, but the shadow of Stryker’s threat loomed over everything. You found yourself constantly looking over your shoulder, jumping at every unexpected noise, your heart pounding with the fear that Stryker could appear at any moment.

And then, one day, he did.

You were at home, going through the motions of your daily routine, when a knock at the door sent a chill down your spine. You froze, your heart racing as you stared at the door, knowing in your gut that this wasn’t a friendly visit.

Slowly, you approached the door, your hand trembling as you reached for the knob. You hesitated, your mind racing with thoughts of what could be waiting on the other side.

Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself and opened the door.

There he stood—William Stryker, his cold eyes studying you with a calculated intensity that made your blood run cold. He was dressed impeccably, his posture calm and composed, but there was an underlying menace in his presence that sent every alarm in your body screaming.

“Hello,” he said, his voice smooth and unnervingly polite. “You must be Logan’s little lady.”

Your throat tightened, and you gripped the edge of the door, resisting the urge to slam it shut in his face. “What do you want?” you managed to ask, your voice steady despite the fear coursing through you.

Stryker’s smile was thin, more of a predator’s smirk than a sign of friendliness. “I’m here to talk to Logan. I believe he’s been avoiding me.”

“He’s not here,” you replied quickly, praying that Logan would stay away until Stryker was gone.

Stryker nodded as if he expected that answer. “I figured as much. He can’t avoid me forever. Sooner or later, he’ll have to face the truth.”

“What truth?” you asked, dread settling like a heavy stone in your stomach.

“The truth that no matter how far he runs, he’ll never escape who he really is,” Stryker said, his voice dropping to a low, ominous tone. “He’s a soldier, a weapon, an animal. Deep down, he knows it.”

You shook your head, refusing to let Stryker’s words get to you. “Logan is more than that. He’s not the person you’re trying to make him be.”

Stryker’s eyes narrowed, and momentarily, the facade of politeness slipped, revealing the cold, calculating man underneath. “We’ll see about that,” he said, his voice hard.

He turned to leave, but then hesitated, sighing as he turned back toward you. There was a faint, unsettling look in his eye, something almost resembling concern, but you knew better.

“Oh, I almost forgot to mention,” Stryker paused, his tone deceptively casual. “Some of the guys on the team have… gone missing. I assume they’re dead—because of Victor. He’s big on revenge, I suppose. Anyway, do let Logan know. Victor will probably be here sooner rather than later.”

Stryker’s words hung in the air like a dark cloud, their weight pressing down on you. You stood there, frozen, as the full meaning of his warning settled in. The mere mention of Victor’s name had always carried an edge, a hint of danger that now felt all too real.

Before you could find your voice, Stryker gave you a cold, almost dismissive nod and turned on his heel, walking away with the same calculated confidence he had arrived with. The sound of his footsteps echoed faintly in the distance, but the chill he brought into your home lingered long after he was gone.

You closed the door slowly, your hands trembling as you locked it as if that simple action could keep the world outside from crashing in. But you knew better. Stryker’s words, his warning about Victor, had already set things in motion—things that couldn’t be undone by a locked door.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the dread coiled in your stomach like a snake ready to strike. Victor was coming and if what Stryker said was true, he was out for blood.

Logan. You had to warn Logan.

─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────

You threw the truck into the park, barely taking the time to turn off the engine before jumping out and running across the lumber yard. Panic fueled your steps as you searched desperately for Logan. He sensed you before he saw you, your scent unmistakable to him. He turned just in time to see you rushing toward him, a terrified look on your face.

“Logan,” you called, your voice trembling, barely above a whisper. “Stryker came to the house.”

Logan’s entire body went still, his breath catching in his throat. “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, his tone hard as all traces of calmness vanished.

“He—” you hesitated, the weight of Stryker’s words still sinking in. “He warned me about Victor. He said some of the team members have gone missing, and he thinks Victor’s behind it. Logan, he said Victor might come here… soon.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening with a mix of anger and fear. “Damn it,” he muttered, his mind racing as he processed the information. He turned to you, his expression grim, the weight of his decision clear in his eyes. “You need to leave. Now.”

Your heart dropped at Logan’s words. The thought of leaving him now, in the face of such danger, was unbearable. But the look in his eyes—so fierce and determined—told you that he wasn’t giving you a choice.

“Logan, I can’t just leave you,” you protested, your voice shaking with emotion. “Not now, not when—”

“You have to,” he cut you off, his voice firm but laced with desperation. “If Victor is coming, I can’t let you be here when he arrives. I need to know you’re safe.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as the reality of the situation sank in. “Where will I go?”

Logan’s gaze softened slightly, but the urgency remained. “There’s a motel on the edge of town, near the highway. Go there, stay out of sight. I’ll come for you when it’s safe.”

You shook your head, feeling a mix of fear and helplessness. “What about you?”

Logan stepped closer, placing his hands on your shoulders, his grip firm but gentle. “I’ll handle Victor. I’ve dealt with him before. But I can’t focus on that if I’m worrying about you. Please, just go.”

You could see the fear in his eyes, the fear of losing you. It mirrored your own. But you also saw the resolve, the determination that had always been a part of him. He wasn’t just asking you to leave—he was begging you to trust him.

You swallowed hard, nodding even though every part of you wanted to stay by his side. “Okay,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “But promise me you’ll come back to me, Logan.”

Logan’s expression softened further, and he pulled you into a tight embrace, holding you as if he never wanted to let go. “I promise,” he murmured into your hair, his voice filled with emotion. “I’ll come back to you. I swear it.”

For a moment, you held onto him, memorizing the feel of his arms around you, the warmth of his body. But the clock was ticking, and you both knew it. Reluctantly, you pulled back, looking up at him one last time.

“I love you,” you said, your voice trembling but resolute.

Logan cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had begun to fall. “I love you too,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Now go. Don’t look back.”

You nodded, biting your lip to keep from breaking down completely. With one last lingering look, you turned and ran back to the truck, your heart heavy with fear and uncertainty.

As you drove away, the lumberyard fading in the rearview mirror, your mind raced with thoughts of Logan, of Victor, of what might happen next. The fear gnawed at you, but you forced yourself to focus on getting to safety, on doing what Logan needed you to do.

The road ahead was dark, the highway stretching out before you like a path to the unknown. Every mile felt like a thousand, every minute an eternity. But you kept going, knowing that this was what Logan wanted—what he needed.

You reached the motel just as the first signs of dawn began to streak the sky. Exhausted and emotionally drained, you checked in, barely registering the details as the clerk handed you the key. The room was small and plain, but it felt like a sanctuary amid chaos.

Once inside, you locked the door, double-checking it as if that would somehow keep the world at bay. Then you collapsed onto the bed, your mind and body finally giving in to the weight of everything that had happened.

You wanted to sleep, to escape the fear that clung to you like a second skin, but your thoughts kept drifting back to Logan—wondering if he was safe, if he was already facing the man who had haunted his past and now threatened your future.

You curled up on the bed, wrapping your arms around yourself as if that could somehow replace the comfort of Logan’s embrace. The room was silent, but your mind was anything but. The uncertainty of what would come next loomed large, the fear of losing Logan gnawing at your heart.

And as the hours stretched on, you could only hope that Logan would keep his promise—that he would come back to you, safe and whole, so you could face whatever was ahead together.

─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────

Hours had passed, each one stretching out longer than the last. You stayed at the motel, anxiously waiting for Logan to return, clinging to the promise he had made. But as the hours turned into days, the silence became unbearable. The weight of not knowing gnawed at you, a constant ache that you couldn’t shake.

Logan hadn’t come back.

You tried to convince yourself that he was okay, that he was just being cautious, making sure everything was safe before coming to get you. But as the days dragged on without a word, your worry grew into something more—a cold, suffocating fear that something had gone wrong.

By the time the third day arrived, you couldn’t take it anymore. You had to know. You had to find him.

With a resolve born from desperation, you packed up your things and checked out of the motel. The drive back into town felt surreal, the familiar road now filled with an ominous tension. The closer you got, the tighter the knot in your stomach grew.

When you finally pulled into town, the sight of the lumber yard where you last saw Logan filled you with both hope and dread. The place was eerily quiet, the usual hum of activity replaced by an unsettling stillness. You parked the truck and stepped out, your heart pounding as you scanned the area for any sign of Logan.

But there was nothing—no sign of him, no indication that he had ever been there.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to focus. If Logan wasn’t here, then you needed to check the house. Maybe he had gone back there, maybe he was waiting for you. The thought gave you a glimmer of hope, just enough to push you forward.

You drove through town, your eyes darting to every corner, every shadow, searching for any hint of him. But the town was quiet, almost unnaturally so, as if it too was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

When you finally reached the house, your heart sank. The front door was slightly ajar, and the wood splintered as if it had been forced open. Panic surged through you as you hurried out of the truck, running to the door.

“Logan?” you called out, your voice trembling with fear.

There was no answer.

You pushed the door open, stepping inside cautiously. The house was dark, the only light coming from the early morning sun filtering through the curtains. Everything was in disarray—the furniture overturned, the walls scuffed as if there had been a struggle.

Your breath hitched as you took it all in, your mind racing with the worst possibilities.

“Logan!” you called again, louder this time, hoping against hope that he was somewhere inside, that he was okay.

But the house was silent.

You moved through the rooms quickly, checking every corner, every shadow, but Logan was nowhere to be found. The fear that had been gnawing at you for days now took root, sinking deep into your bones.

As you made your way to the bedroom, your heart nearly stopped. The bed was untouched, the sheets still neatly made—the way you had left them. But what caught your attention was the blood on the floor, a dark stain that hadn’t been there before. Your knees nearly buckled as you stared at it, the implications crashing down on you like a tidal wave.

You forced yourself to stay calm, to think. The blood could be Logan’s, or it could belong to someone else. But either way, it wasn’t a good sign.

You turned and rushed back through the house, your panic growing with every step. As you reached the front door, you paused, your hand trembling on the doorknob. You didn’t want to believe it, didn’t want to accept that something had happened to Logan—but the evidence was all around you.

You had to find him. You had to know the truth.

Grabbing your keys, you ran back to the truck and sped off, your mind racing with possibilities. You thought about Stryker, about Victor, about the people from Logan’s past who might be responsible for this. You had no clear plan, no idea where to go or who to turn to—but you couldn’t just sit back and do nothing.

You drove to the lumberyard again, hoping someone there might have seen or heard something. The few workers you found there were no help; they hadn’t seen Logan in days. The town felt like it was closing in on you, every shadow hiding a new fear, every corner holding a new dread.

Next, you tried the local bar—one of the few places where Logan had gone to clear his head when things got tough. But the bartender shook his head when you asked if he had seen Logan.

It was as if Logan had vanished into thin air.

What else could you do? You had no idea where Logan had gone, and even if you did find Victor or Stryker, you knew you’d be no match against them.

You sat in the truck, gripping the steering wheel as the tears began to fall freely, blurring your vision. The weight of everything crashed down on you all at once—the fear, the uncertainty, the overwhelming sense of helplessness. You had done everything you could think of, but it felt like you were hitting one dead end after another.

You closed your eyes, letting the tears stream down your face, your sobs quiet but deep, shaking your entire body. You didn’t know what else to do, or where else to turn. All you could do was sit there, trapped in your fear and despair, hoping that somehow, some way, Logan would come back to you.

─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────

A year had passed since that terrible day. A year of searching, of moving from one town to the next, chasing down rumors and whispers, but finding nothing. Not a trace of Logan, Stryker, or Victor. It was as if they had all vanished into thin air.

You had driven countless miles, crossing from small towns to sprawling cities, hoping to catch even the smallest lead. But every time, the trail went cold. The hope that had once fueled your search had slowly started to fade, replaced by a growing despair.

Logan was gone, and no one knew where.

Some days, you imagined the worst: that Stryker had found a way to kill Logan despite his Regenerative Healing Factor, or that he was being kept somewhere being used as a weapon, far from the life the two of you had started to build together.

You tried to move on, tried to convince yourself that Logan was gone, that there was nothing left to find. Yet, deep down you couldn’t give up, even when every sign told you that the man you loved was lost forever.

It was that stubborn hope that had led you here, to a small town on the border of Canada and the U.S. It was a place like so many others you had visited—quiet, unassuming, the kind of place people went when they didn’t want to be found. You had been here for a few days, following another dead-end lead, and you were ready to move on again.

However, something drew you into a local bar, a small, dimly lit place that smelled of stale beer and old wood.

You pushed open the heavy door and stepped inside, the murmur of conversations and the clinking of glasses filling the air. You weren’t expecting much—maybe just a drink to help you sleep, to drown out the endless questions and fears that haunted you. But as your eyes adjusted to the dim light, something—or rather, someone—caught your attention.

There, sitting alone at the bar, was Logan.

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. It couldn’t be. You had been searching for so long, and here he was, just sitting there as if nothing had happened.

He looked different—more worn, intense, but it was undeniably him. The same rugged features, the same broad shoulders, the same haunted look in his eyes that you had come to know so well. But something was off. He seemed distant, detached as if the world around him barely registered.

Heart pounding, you approached him slowly, your mind racing with a million thoughts and emotions. Relief, disbelief, hope—all of them battled for dominance as you took each step closer to him.

“Logan,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you reached his side.

He didn’t react. His eyes were fixed on the glass in front of him, the amber liquid inside swirling as he tilted it slightly. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the weariness etched into his features.

“Logan,” you said again, louder this time, your voice trembling with a mix of desperation and hope.

Finally, he turned to look at you, his gaze slow and deliberate. But the moment his eyes met yours, your heart dropped. There was no recognition there—no spark of familiarity, no hint that he knew who you were.

“Can I help you?” Logan asked, his voice gruff, with no trace of the warmth you had once known so well.

It felt as if the ground had been ripped out from under you. The Logan you had known was gone. The man before you looked like him, sounded like him, but had no memory of the life you had shared.

It took everything in you to fight back the tears. “Sorry, you just… you look like someone I used to know,” you stammered, your voice barely steady.

Logan’s brow furrowed in confusion, and he shook his head slowly. “Sorry, lady. I don’t know you.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you breathless with sorrow yet there was no way you were going to leave not after spending so much time looking for him.

You swallowed hard, forcing a small, tight smile as you tried to play off the hurt that threatened to overwhelm you. “Yeah… must be a mistake,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan gave you a brief, puzzled glance before turning back to his drink, seemingly dismissing the encounter. He took another sip, his attention already drifting away, back to whatever thoughts were occupying his mind.

Your heart felt like it was being crushed under the weight of your emotions, but you fought to keep your composure. You couldn’t fall apart now—not here, not in front of him.

Taking a shaky breath, you moved to the stool next to him and sat down, trying to steady yourself. The bartender approached, wiping down the counter with a practiced ease. “What can I get you?” he asked, his tone polite but disinterested.

“A whiskey, neat,” you replied, your voice steadier than you expected. It felt strange, almost surreal, to be sitting here, ordering a drink like nothing was wrong. Like the man sitting beside you wasn’t the love of your life who had somehow forgotten everything you’d shared.

As you waited for your drink, you stole a glance at Logan. He was staring into his glass, his expression distant, almost lost. He looked tired—exhausted, even—but there was something else in his eyes, something you couldn’t quite place. It was as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, yet had no idea why.

The bartender set your drink in front of you, and you nodded in thanks, wrapping your fingers around the glass. For a moment, you just sat there, staring at the amber liquid, trying to make sense of the situation. How could this have happened? What had Stryker done to him but more importantly, how could you possibly bring him back?

You took a sip, the warmth of the whiskey spreading through your chest, grounding you in the moment. You needed to find out if his memories were completely gone. If they weren’t, there was a possibility you could bring them back. It was risky, especially since you had never tried something like that before.

Logan glanced at you briefly, his brow furrowing again. “You’re still here?” he asked, his voice low and rough.

“It’s a public bar,” you quipped back, the words slipping out more sharply than you intended. “If you don’t like it, then leave.”

You hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, but the situation was fraying your nerves. Logan didn’t seem fazed, though. He simply rolled his eyes and took a long sip from his glass, his expression unreadable.

For a while, the two of you sat in silence, the only sound between you the clinking of glasses and the low hum of conversation from the other patrons. It was both comforting and heartbreaking to be near him despite the divide that existed between you.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Logan spoke again. He glanced at you briefly. “You from around here?”

“No,” you replied, shaking your head slightly. “Just passing through.” The words felt hollow, a cover for the deep truth you couldn’t share with him—at least, not yet.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Logan spoke again, his voice softer, almost hesitant. “You said I looked like someone you used to know. Who was he?”

The question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. How could you possibly explain? But you couldn’t ignore the question either, not when it was the first real hint of interest he had shown in you.

“He was… someone important,” you began, choosing your words carefully. “Someone who meant the world to me. We went through a lot together, and I lost him… a while back.”

Logan’s gaze flickered with something—curiosity, maybe—but he didn’t press further. Instead, he simply nodded, as if understanding something he couldn’t quite put into words.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment, his tone sincere. “Losing people… it’s hard.”

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice thick with emotion. “It is.”

Another silence fell between you, but this one felt different—less strained, more shared. Even if he didn’t remember you, didn’t know who you were, there was still something between you, a connection that hadn’t been completely severed.

As the evening wore on, you both finished your drinks, the conversation dwindling into companionable silence. It wasn’t the reunion you had hoped for, but it was something—a starting point, maybe. You didn’t know what the future held, didn’t know if you could ever bring Logan’s memories back, but sitting there with him, you knew one thing for certain: you weren’t going to give up on him.

Logan eventually pushed his empty glass away and stood up, reaching for his wallet. “Well, it was nice talking to you…,” he said, trailing off as he realized he didn’t know your name.

You offered it, hoping the familiarity would spark something in him, ignite some glimmer of recognition. Logan just nodded, handing the bartender some cash. “Nice talking to you,” he replied, his tone polite but distant.

He gave you a final, almost apologetic glance before turning and heading toward the door. You watched him go, your heart aching with every step he took away from you.

You drained the last of your whiskey, setting the glass down with a quiet determination. This was just the beginning of a new chapter and no matter how long it took, you were going to fight for him. Deep down, you believed that the man you loved was still in there, somewhere.

─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────

For the next few days, you camped out at the bar, hoping Logan would return. It felt helpless, a long shot at best, but all logical ideas had vanished from your mind. How else could you find him, connect with him, or get another chance to help him remember?

You sat at the same stool each evening, nursing a drink and watching the door with a mixture of hope and dread. Every time the door creaked open, your heart would leap, only to sink again when it wasn’t him. The bartender had started giving you curious looks, probably wondering why you kept coming back. But you didn’t care. You had to be there, just in case.

On the third night, as you sat swirling the whiskey in your glass, lost in thought, the door opened again. This time, when you looked up, your breath caught in your throat.

Logan had returned.

He walked in with the same weary expression, the weight of the world on his shoulders. He glanced around the room, his eyes passing over you briefly before he moved to the bar. There was no recognition, no sign that anything had changed for him.

But it was enough. He was here, and that meant you had another chance.

You watched as he ordered a drink, his movements methodical, almost robotic. He looked like a man going through the motions, detached from everything around him. It hurt to see him this way, so far from the Logan you had known, but it only strengthened your resolve.

After a moment, you took a deep breath and approached him, sliding into the seat next to him as casually as you could manage. “Back again, I see,” you said, trying to keep your tone light.

Logan glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “Yeah,” he replied simply, taking a sip from his glass. There was no recognition in his eyes, just the same detached politeness as before.

You hesitated, searching for the right words. You couldn’t push too hard, couldn’t overwhelm him, but you had to do something—anything—to get through to him. “So, do you come here often?” you asked, the cliché question sounding awkward even to your ears, but it was a start.

Logan set his drink down, his brows furrowing as he turned to you. “Look, lady. What do you want from me? Who do you work for?”

The abruptness of his question caught you off guard, and your heart skipped a beat. There was a sharp edge to his voice, a defensive suspicion that hadn’t been there before. It was as if, deep down, some part of him sensed the truth—that this wasn’t just a casual conversation, that there was something more beneath the surface.

“I don’t work for anyone,” you replied quickly, trying to keep your voice calm despite the sudden tension. “I’m just…”

Logan’s eyes narrowed, studying you closely, his gaze sharp and unyielding. “You don’t just ‘talk’ to strangers like this. So why me? What’s your angle?”

You swallowed hard, feeling the pressure of his scrutiny, but Logan wasn’t easing up. He leaned in closer, his presence overwhelming, the familiar scent of him invading your senses. “You think you’re clever, darlin’? I’ve sat across the street watching you come in this bar for days—waiting for me.”

His words cut through you, and your heart raced as you realized he had been more aware of you than you’d thought. There was an intensity in his eyes, a mixture of suspicion and something else—something darker, more dangerous.

“I’m not trying to trick you,” you said, your voice steadying even as your pulse quickened. You needed a lie, a good one. “I’m just lost. I thought maybe—”

“Maybe what?” Logan interrupted, his tone harsh. “You thought you could just waltz in here, play nice, and I’d spill my guts?”

You shook your head, desperate to break through the wall he was putting up. “No, it’s not like that. I’m not here to hurt you.” You hesitated, feeling the weight of the truth pressing down on you. You couldn’t tell him everything—not yet.

For a long moment, Logan just stared at you, his eyes searching yours for answers he couldn’t find. Then, with a frustrated growl, he pushed back from the bar, shaking his head as if trying to clear it.

“Look, lady, I don’t know who you are or what you think you know, but I’m not the guy you’re looking for,” he said, his voice hardening again. “So fuck off.”

The harshness of his words hit you like a blow, but you nodded, too scared to even speak again. You watched as he turned away, your heart heavy with the realization that the man you once knew was buried even deeper than you had feared.

You decided you weren’t going to leave, not yet. You needed to see if there was any part of the man you knew still inside him. Maybe if you gave him some space, and kept your distance, you could still figure out a way to reach him.

The bar was getting busier, more people trickling in as the night wore on. You wandered over to the pool table, where a couple of guys were already playing. One of them, a tall, broad-shouldered man with a cocky grin, caught your eye. He gestured toward the table with his pool cue, clearly inviting you to join.

You forced a smile and nodded, figuring it was as good a distraction as any. You needed something to take your mind off the encounter with Logan, something to keep you grounded in the here and now. Playing pool with some random guy would help pass the time and give you a chance to stay in the bar without drawing too much attention to yourself.

“Mind if I join?” you asked as you approached, keeping your voice light.

“Not at all,” the guy said with a grin, handing you a cue. “Name’s Jake. What about you?”

You hesitated for a split second, before offering a fake name. “Anna.”

“Well, Anna, let’s see if you’re any good,” Jake said with a wink.

You tried to relax, focusing on the game as Jake racked up the balls and took his first shot. He was good, but you weren’t bad either, and soon you found yourself getting into the rhythm of the game. Jake kept the conversation going with light banter and flirtatious comments, but you brushed most of it off, keeping your responses neutral.

As the game went on, Jake’s flirting grew bolder. He stood a little too close, his hand lingering on yours when he passed you the cue, his compliments becoming more suggestive. You tried to keep things light, laughing off his advances, but you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that was starting to settle in the pit of your stomach.

Finally, after you sank a particularly tricky shot, Jake leaned in close, his voice low. “You know, you’re pretty good at this,” he said, his breath warm against your ear. “But I bet there’s something else you’re even better at.”

You stiffened, pulling back slightly. “Thanks for the game, Jake,” you said, trying to keep your tone casual as you turned to set down your cue. “But I think I’m done for the night.”

Before you could move away, Jake’s hand shot out, grabbing your arm. “Oh, come on, don’t be like that,” he said, his tone still playful but with an edge that sent a shiver down your spine. “I’m just having a little fun.”

“I said I’m done,” you repeated, trying to pull your arm free but Jake tightened his grip, pulling you closer. You tried to squirm your hands to make direct contact with him, but his grip tightened making your powers useless.

“Don’t be so uptight,” he said, his voice darkening as he backed you up against the wall. “We were just getting started.”

Fear spiked through you as Jake pressed closer, his body trapping yours against the rough wood. You could feel the tension in his grip, the predatory look in his eyes, and you knew this was about to go very wrong.

“Jake, let me go,” you demanded, trying to keep your voice firm despite the fear clawing at you.

Jake just smirked, leaning in even closer. “I don’t think you really want that,” he whispered, his breath hot against your cheek.

Panic flared in your chest, but before you could react, a hand suddenly clamped down on Jake’s shoulder, yanking him back with surprising force. Jake stumbled backward, catching himself on the edge of the pool table, but froze as three long, metal claws pressed against his throat.

“Get your hands off her,” a low, familiar voice growled.

You looked up, your heart pounding, to see Logan standing there, his expression dark with anger. He didn’t look at you; his eyes were locked on Jake, who had sobered up instantly, clearly not expecting to be interrupted—especially not like this.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Jake asked, panic seeping into his voice as Logan’s claws pressed closer to his throat. You watched in horror, realizing that something was different about Logan—his once bone claws had been replaced with metal.

“What’s it matter to you, bub?” Logan snarled, his voice carrying a deadly edge.

Jake’s eyes darted between the claws and Logan’s face, fear widening his eyes. “Alright, man, just… just take it easy,” he stammered, his bravado completely shattered. “I didn’t know she was yours.”

“She’s not,” Logan snapped, the metal claws glinting under the dim bar lights. “But that doesn’t mean you get to put your hands on her.”

Jake swallowed hard, nodding frantically as he tried to lean away from the deadly claws. “Okay, okay, I got it. I won’t touch her, I swear.”

Logan held Jake’s terrified gaze for a moment longer before finally stepping back, retracting his claws with a sharp metallic sound that echoed through the now-silent bar. Jake nearly collapsed with relief, scrambling to get as far away from Logan as possible.

“Get out of here,” Logan growled, his voice still low and menacing.

Jake didn’t need to be told twice. He practically bolted for the door, not daring to look back. The bar patrons, who had been watching the scene unfold in stunned silence, began murmuring among themselves, the tension in the air slowly dissipating.

Yet the tension in the air was still thick between you and Logan as he turned, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of injury. “You trying to start a bar fight?” he asked gruffly, his voice still edged with anger.

You shook your head, your heart pounding as Logan stepped closer to you. He stared at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours as if trying to make sense of the emotions warring inside him. Finally, he nodded, his expression softening just a fraction. “You shouldn’t be here,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

He stepped closer, just inches between the two of you, as he brought his hands up, bracing them on the wall behind you, closing you in between his arms. The heat of his body radiated toward you, his presence overwhelming as his gaze locked onto yours.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The air between you crackled with tension, a mix of fear, longing, and something deeper that neither of you could fully name. Logan’s breath was warm against your skin, his closeness intoxicating, but there was a wariness in his eyes—a warning that this was a line you shouldn’t cross.

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” he whispered, his voice rough, tinged with something almost vulnerable.

Despite the warning in his words, he didn’t pull away. He stayed there, inches from you as if torn between the urge to protect you and the desire to completely ruin you.

“You did that shit to get my attention, sweetheart. Go on, admit it.”

You shook your head again, pressing your body flat against the wall, but you couldn’t deny the heat spreading through you. Desire was building, stirred by the way Logan had protected you, by the raw intensity in his eyes.

Logan tsked softly, his lips brushing against your cheek before he whispered in your ear, his voice low and teasing. “So, you’re just wet for no reason?”

“I—I…” You stumbled over your words, your mind racing as you completely forgot that Logan could smell your arousal. It had been so long—one year, two days, and three hours—since he last touched you. This was a terrible, horrible idea, but if you could make direct contact, you might be able to see if his memories were still there.

Logan’s lips curled into a smirk, his breath hot against your ear. “If you wanted me to fuck you, all you had to do was ask, baby.”

Your heart pounded, a mixture of fear and longing swirling inside you. You knew this was dangerous, knew that giving in could complicate everything—but the thought of being close to him again, of maybe finding a way to reach the man you loved, was almost too much to resist.

“I want you to touch me,” you finally said, your voice a bit weak, but resolute. “To make me feel good.”

Logan smirked, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pulled you toward the bathroom. In a blur of motion, he had the door locked and pushed you against it, his lips crashing against yours with a fierce, almost desperate intensity.

Slowly, you snaked your hand up his shirt, hesitant but determined, and placed it on his chest. The contact was electric, your palm pressed against the hard planes of muscle beneath the fabric. You could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, unyielding, grounding you in the moment. For a second, you closed your eyes, focusing on the connection, willing yourself to find something—anything—that would prove the man you loved was still in there.

As your hand remained on his chest, something shifted. Recent memories flashed before your eyes, unbidden and vivid. You saw Stryker, his cold, calculating gaze fixed on Logan, and then Victor, throwing Logan against a wall with brutal force before stepping on his bone claws, breaking them in half.

You saw Logan submerged in water, long needles being injected into every inch of his body, before he broke out of the tank, screaming. Every recent memory was filled with regret, pain, and fear, flooding your mind until you could barely hold on.

Your chest tightened as the images surged through you, the reality of what Logan had endured washing over you in relentless waves. His pain, his anger, his confusion—it was all there, just beneath the surface, trapped within him. The memories were fragmented and disjointed, but they were enough to confirm what you had feared and hoped for the man you loved was still there, buried beneath the torment.

Logan pulled back slightly, his breath ragged, as if sensing the shift in you. “What’s wrong?” he muttered, his voice rough but tinged with genuine concern.

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze, and for a moment, the intensity of what you had just seen left you speechless. The man standing before you was the same Logan you had always known, yet he was different—burdened by new memories and experiences that had left him deeply scarred.

“It’s nothing,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you struggled to push the memories aside, to stay in the moment with him. “Just… don’t stop.”

Logan’s eyes searched yours as if trying to read the truth behind your words, but then he nodded, pressing his forehead against yours. You gasped as his hand lifted your dress, pushing your panties aside before sliding two fingers into your entrance. “I won’t,” he promised, his voice low, almost guttural.

You nodded, swallowing hard as you tried to steady yourself. It was impossible to focus as his fingers thrusted in and out of you, the pleasure making your body tremble. But you pushed it aside, forcing yourself to slip back inside Logan’s mind, determined to find the man you knew was still there.

More images flickered by—scenes from his childhood, memories you had glimpsed before. Little Logan—or James—was sick in bed, his father comforting him by reading a story. You felt a pang of sadness, but you skipped ahead, not wanting to lose yourself that far in the past, knowing you needed to stay focused.

Then, suddenly, you saw it. A memory of you flickered by. Logan standing there as you danced around the living room, wearing his plaid shirt and grinning at him. You remembered that moment so well—the joy, the love, the simple happiness of being together.

Logan’s lips found yours again, the kiss slower this time, more deliberate, pulling you out of his mind. You sighed into it, letting the memory linger as his kiss deepened. Your desire was building, but you felt something else—a flicker of recognition, a spark of the man you loved. It was faint, buried under layers of pain and confusion, but it was there. Logan might not remember everything, but at this moment, in this connection, there was a part of him that was still yours.

You pulled back slightly, your breath shaky, as the weight of it all pressed down on you. “Logan…”

His voice, low and rough, sent a shiver through you. “You take my fingers so well, darling.”

You closed your eyes, trying to anchor yourself in the moment, trying to hold on to that spark of recognition you’d found. “Logan…,” you whispered again, your voice trembling with both need and the deep, unshakable love you felt for him.

He paused, his fingers still buried inside you, his breath hot against your neck. There was a beat of silence, thick with tension and unspoken words as if he was struggling to hold onto something—some part of himself that was slipping away.

Your eyes flickered open as Logan’s fingers slowly slipped out of you, his expression shifting from raw intensity to something more distant, confused. His brow furrowed, and he took a small step back, almost as if he were trying to retreat within himself.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, concern threading through your voice as you tried to take a step toward him, but the space between you suddenly felt vast.

Logan shook his head slightly as if trying to clear it. “I… I don’t know,” he muttered, his voice uncharacteristically uncertain. His eyes darted away from you as if he couldn’t bear to meet your gaze. “I must be losing it.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, the raw vulnerability in his voice cutting deep. You reached out, your hand trembling slightly as you gently cupped his face, forcing him to look at you. “Logan,” you said softly, willing him to hear the certainty in your voice.

He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch as if seeking some kind of anchor in the storm raging inside him. Yet when he opened them again, they were clouded with doubt, the flicker of recognition you had seen earlier slipping further away.

“Everything’s so messed up in my head,” Logan whispered, the words carrying the weight of his turmoil.

You swallowed hard, the pain in his voice making your heartache. “Then let me help you,” you whispered, your thumb brushing gently across his cheek. “I can help you remember.”

Logan searched your eyes, the conflict within him clear as day. For a moment, you thought he might pull away completely, and retreat into the walls he had built around himself. But then, something shifted in his gaze—a flicker of the man you knew, the man who had always fought for you, no matter what.

His voice hung in the air, rough and hesitant, echoing with uncertainty. “What if I don’t want to remember?”

The question lingered between you, heavy with unspoken fears. For a moment, you were at a loss for words, caught off guard by the raw honesty in his eyes. You had been so focused on helping him remember, on bringing back the man you loved, that it hadn’t occurred to you that maybe he didn’t want to return to who he was before. Perhaps the memories he’d lost were too painful, too overwhelming to reclaim.

“Logan,” you began softly, your heart tightening at the sight of his troubled expression. “I know you’ve been a lot, but I know the man you are deep down, even if you don’t remember him right now.”

His eyes darkened, conflicted as if he was grappling with something he couldn’t quite articulate. “What if… what if remembering makes it worse? I get a glimpse every night of what it feels like—all the pain I’ve been trying to get away from.”

You felt a lump form in your throat, the intensity of his emotions washing over you. “I can’t promise you it won’t hurt, but you don’t have to go through it alone. You once told me that the pain lets you know you’re still alive.”

Logan’s gaze softened, but the uncertainty still lingered in his eyes. He took a deep breath as if steeling himself for what he was about to say. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough to face it,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Your heart ached for him, for the weight of the burden he was carrying, but you refused to let him sink back into that darkness. “You are strong enough, Logan,” you said firmly, your grip on his face tightening slightly. “You’ve always been strong enough.”

Logan closed his eyes again as if absorbing your words, letting them settle deep within him. When he opened them, there was a glimmer of something new—hope, perhaps, or at least the beginnings of it. “I’m scared of what I’ve done… of who I’ve become.”

You could see the fear etched in his features, the same fear that had been lurking beneath the surface since the moment you saw him at the diner. “Whatever you’ve done, whatever you’ve become,” you said gently, “it doesn’t change the fact that you’re still the man I love. And nothing is going to change that.”

Logan stared at you, his expression a mixture of disbelief and longing as if he was daring to hope for something he thought he had lost. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

“You don’t get to decide that,” you replied softly, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I’m here because I choose to be. Because I love you, Logan. All of you, no matter what.”

For a long moment, Logan didn’t say anything. He just stood there, his forehead still pressed against yours, his eyes searching yours as if looking for something to hold onto. Then, slowly, he nodded, the smallest hint of a smile breaking through the storm in his gaze.

“Fine,” he whispered, the word filled with a fragile hope. “Alright… we’ll try.”

You felt a surge of relief, the tension in your chest easing slightly as you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. “We’ll try,” you echoed, your voice soft but filled with determination. “We’ll take it one step at a time.”

Logan’s arms encircled you, holding you close as if afraid you might disappear if he let go. For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a sense of calm settle over you. It wasn’t the end of the struggle, but it was a beginning—a chance to rebuild, to find each other again, and to face whatever memories surfaced together.

The dingy hotel room smelled of stale cigarettes and spilled alcohol as you walked in. It was clear Logan had been living like this for a while, drifting from town to town, drinking away his misery.

You sat down on the edge of the bed, the springs creaking beneath you, as Logan shut the door behind him. The atmosphere felt heavy, laden with the weight of what had happened earlier at the bar. It was strange to be here, in this small, dark room, after everything that had transpired between you.

“So, how does this work?” Logan eventually asked, his voice gruff as he leaned against the wall. Despite agreeing to this, he kept a noticeable distance between you, as if unsure of what might happen next.

You sighed, rubbing your forehead, trying to collect your thoughts. This wasn’t easy for either of you, but it had to be done. “I just need to have direct contact with you,” you explained, your voice calm and steady despite the uncertainty you felt. “I can go through your memories and hopefully bring them forward for you to see.”

Logan nodded, but his eyes were distant. “In the bathroom—” His voice trailed off momentarily, making your heart race. “Did you… look inside my mind?”

“I did, but look, I’m sorry,” you quickly responded, your voice trembling as you took a step closer to him. “I just wanted to know if you were still—” Tears welled up in your eyes as the words caught in your throat. “I needed to know you were still my Logan. I wouldn’t have done it if I wasn’t desperate.”

Logan shook his head, walking past you over to the bed. “You can’t do that shit to people,” he muttered, his voice low and rough, avoiding your gaze as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

“I know. I’m sorry,” you replied, wiping at your tears, trying to hold back the flood of emotions. “I was desperate. I’ve been looking for you for over a year, and—”

“What?” Logan spat, his eyes finally darting to meet yours, the intensity of his gaze startling you.

You went silent, feeling the anger bubbling up inside him, the tension in the room thickening. His posture tensed, his fists clenching as he tried to rein in his emotions.

You stood there, his gaze heavy on your shoulders, as the silence stretched between you. Logan’s chest heaved with restrained anger, his eyes burning with a mixture of betrayal and hurt that cut through you like a knife.

“You’ve been looking for me for over a year?” he repeated, his voice low and dangerous, the words laced with disbelief. “Why didn’t you think to tell me that before? Instead, you just… violated my mind without asking?”

His words stung, each one landing with the force of a physical blow. You wanted to reach out, to soothe the pain you saw in his eyes, but you knew he wasn’t ready for that. Not yet.

“I didn’t want to lie to you,” you began, your voice barely above a whisper. “I was scared and it wasn’t like I could just dump all this information on you hoping it would jog your memory. I thought I lost you forever, so when I finally found you…I didn’t know what else to do. I just needed to know if there was any part of you that remembered us, remembered me.”

Logan ran a hand through his hair, the frustration evident in his every movement. He looked away from you, his jaw clenched tight. “I get that you were scared. I do. But that doesn’t make it right,” he said, his voice rough with emotion.

You felt a wave of guilt wash over you, knowing that you had crossed a line, even if your intentions had been pure.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your throat tightening with the weight of your regret. “I should have asked. I should have trusted that you’d come back to me on your own.”

Logan finally looked back at you, his expression softening just a fraction. There was still anger in his eyes, but there was something else there too—confusion, maybe even a trace of understanding. “I’m not good at this… at letting people in,” he said, his voice gruff but laced with vulnerability.

“I know,” you said, taking a cautious step closer. “Trust me. I know because you didn’t let me in right away. It took time but I’m willing to do whatever it takes to help you through this. If you need space, I’ll give it to you. If you need time, I’ll wait. Just… please don’t shut me out.”

Logan stared at you for a long moment, his emotions warring within him. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the struggle to reconcile his anger with the love he still felt for you. His breath came out in a shaky exhale, and he finally nodded, though his expression remained guarded.

“Something tells me I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” you assured him, your voice firm with conviction. “We’ll get through this, Logan. One step at a time.”

He nodded again, his shoulders sagging slightly as some of the tension left his body. “Okay,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “But no more going into my head without asking. I need to be able to trust you.”

“You have my word,” you promised, taking another step closer until you were standing right in front of him.

Logan searched your eyes as if looking for any sign of doubt, any hint that you might betray him again. But when he found none, he let out a heavy sigh, his expression softening as he finally allowed himself to relax.

“Alright,” he said quietly, his voice still tinged with uncertainty but also with a glimmer of hope. “Let’s try again… together.”

You smiled, the tension in the room finally easing as you reached out to take his hand. He hesitated for just a moment before lacing his fingers with yours, the contact a small but significant step toward healing the rift between you.

“Are you ready?” you asked gently, searching his eyes for any last-minute hesitation.

Logan gave a curt nod, but the tension in his grip told you all you needed to know—this was as ready as he was going to be.

You took a deep breath, centering yourself before focusing on the connection between you. Slowly, you let your power flow through you, using the contact to delve into Logan’s mind, searching through the tangled web of memories that had been locked away.

“I’ll try to go slow but sometimes the mind is an unpredictable place.” You said in a soothing voice.

At first, it was chaotic—flashes of scenes, emotions, and images that didn’t quite make sense. But as you guided your power deeper, you began to find the threads that mattered, the memories that had shaped who Logan was before he became lost.

His breath hitched as a particularly painful memory emerged—a moment of betrayal, the image of Stryker’s cold eyes flashing in his mind. You squeezed his hand, grounding him, reminding him that you were there, that he wasn’t alone.

And then, slowly, the fog began to lift. Logan’s grip on your hand tightened as more memories surfaced, clearer this time. Moments of his past life, of battles fought and bonds formed. And then, there were glimpses of you, moments that had once brought him solace and peace.

You felt his body start to relax, the tension easing as the memories became more familiar, more real. His breathing slowed, his eyes focusing as he began to piece together the fragments of who he once was.

When you finally pulled back, the connection severing, Logan let out a shaky breath, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours. There was a new clarity in his gaze, a recognition that hadn’t been there before.

“How do you feel?” you asked, your voice filled with hope.

Logan stared at you for a moment, his expression a mix of relief and lingering uncertainty. “I remembered... some things but it’s still a mess in my head.”

“That’s okay,” you said, squeezing his hand gently. “It’ll take time. We’ll keep working at it if you want to.”

For the first time since you’d entered the room, Logan’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Yeah. I saw those moments of me…with you. I can see why you are fighting so hard.” he murmured, the sincerity in his voice unmistakable.

You returned his smile, feeling a sense of hope that hadn’t been there before. It was a start—a fragile, tentative start, but a start nonetheless.

─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────

Five years had passed since that night in the bar. The road had been long and difficult, but together, you and Logan had faced every challenge, every memory, every fear. Piece by piece, memory by memory, you helped him reclaim his past, using your powers to bring back what had been taken from him while soothing the pain that came with it.

Sometimes, you blinked forgetting so much time had passed. The two of you have built a life far away from the chaos that once defined both of your existence.

Nestled in the serene wilderness in the middle of nowhere you had found a home—a place where the past was put to rest and the future was whatever you wanted it to be.

What surprised you most was how Logan had found peace in this quiet life and had blossomed into the role of a loving husband and father.

The sound of laughter filled the warm, sunlit kitchen as Logan chased your daughter around the table pretending to be a tickle monster. At four years old, your little girl was a whirlwind of energy and curiosity. You chuckled as her little feet pattered across the wooden floor trying to escape Logan’s playful clutches.

“Gotcha, kiddo!” Logan said, his deep voice filled with joy as he peppered her face with kisses. Your daughter giggled uncontrollably, her tiny hands gripping his shirt as she wriggled in his arms.

“No!” she shrieked through her laughter, her eyes sparkling with happiness. “Not the tickles!”

Logan grinned, the sight of his daughter’s pure delight warming his heart. He finally relented, setting her down on the ground and ruffling her hair. “Alright, alright, you win this time,” he said, his tone mock-serious.

She beamed up at him, her wide grin showing off the tiny gap where one of her baby teeth had recently fallen out. “I always win!” she declared, her voice filled with the confidence only a four-year-old could muster.

You watched from the kitchen counter, your heart swelling with love as you took in the scene. It was moments like these that made everything worth it—the struggles, the pain, the journey you had both endured to get here. You placed a hand on your slightly rounded belly, feeling the gentle flutter of the new life growing inside you. The little one would be arriving in a few months, and the thought filled you with both excitement and a hint of nervousness.

“She’s got you wrapped around her little finger,” you teased, smiling as Logan walked over to you, your daughter still clinging to his leg.

Logan shrugged, giving you a sheepish grin. “What can I say? She’s tough to resist,” he said, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips before placing a gentle hand on your belly. “How’s our little one doing today?”

“She’s been kicking up a storm,” you replied, your smile widening as you felt a little nudge against your hand. “I think she’s excited to meet you.”

Logan’s eyes softened, his gaze full of love and contentment. “I can’t wait to meet her too,” he said, his voice full of wonder.

You reached up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing over the faint lines that time and life had etched into his face. “I love you,” you said softly.

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment as if savoring the simple, peaceful life you’d built together. When he opened them again, the love you saw there was so deep, so powerful, that it took your breath away.

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I love you and our girls more than anything in this world.”

“We love you too,” you replied, your heart full as you leaned in for another kiss, this one slower, more tender.

Your daughter, never one to be left out, tugged on Logan’s pant leg, demanding attention. “Play with me again!”

Logan chuckled, pulling back slightly from the kiss to glance down at his eager daughter. “Alright, alright. What do you want to play this time, kiddo?”

“Hide and seek!” she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with excitement.

“Hide and seek it is,” Logan agreed, lifting her again and spinning her around before setting her down. “But you better hide good, ‘cause I’m the best seeker in all of Canada!”

“Dinner’s almost done, so don’t play too long,” you called as your daughter dashed off to find the perfect hiding spot.

You watched Logan, your heart brimming with love and gratitude. This life, this family—this was everything you had ever wanted. And knowing that Logan had found happiness here, with you and your daughters, made it all the more precious.

With a deep sense of peace, you turned your attention back to preparing dinner, listening to the sound of your husband and daughter’s laughter filling the house. It was a sound you’d never grow tired of, a reminder of just how far you’d come and how much you’d overcome together.

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chaesparklez · 4 months ago

Text

1.17am | gunwook x afab reader

wc: 2.3k

content: 18+ MINORS DNI

gendered descriptions, ex!bf gunwook, angst, emotional, oral sex f!receiving, heavy petting, rough sex, makeup sex, unprotected sex (practice safe sex yall)

summary: “just look at this, jagi. we’re so good together.”

1.17am. a surprise visit from the person you want to see least. well, maybe not the least…

a/n: sorry for being mia guys!! hope you enjoy this latest piece, i’m not too familiar with writing angst so hopefully it’s not too clunky haha. cross-posted on ao3 & wattpad on user @/chaesparkle.

it had been a long week of work, your social battery too drained to join your friends for a night out. you splay yourself out on the sofa, absentmindedly watching a show and crocheting. a nearby lamp illuminates the room with an atmospheric golden glow.

you sigh. admittedly, part of the reason why you were so drained was because of your ex, gunwook. his work meant you barely saw him for the past few months, eventually feeling like he wasn't making time for you culminating in your breakup. despite his begging to make things right, you just knew things would never work out. clearly he thought differently, as he had been blowing up your phone all day.

why you hadn't simply blocked him yet, you couldn't quite figure out.

a knock at the door.

you frown looking at the clock: 1.17am. who on earth could it be at this hour? you throw a cardigan on and amble towards the door.

"who is it?" you call lazily.

no response. you furrow your brows, pausing for a second before another knock resonates through the room. and you realise. two firm raps followed by another quick tap; you know exactly who was knocking. the blood rushes to your head, face already heating up in anger. you were already having a rough week and now having your space invaded by the last person you wanted to see made you angry.

“what the fuck, gunwook?” you swing the door open. 'texting me hundreds of times wasn't enough so now you show up to my doorstep?'

gunwook stands before you, expression indecipherable. he simply scans you up and down with a dark gaze.

you shake your head in frustration. 'so??'

he slinks past you without a word, making his way into the living room with you following him becoming increasingly mad.

"oh, so you're just gonna waltz into my house then play the silent act? i don't even know why you’re h-"

"because i fucking missed you!!" he shouts, turning towards you finally. his cheeks redden like they always do when he gets emotional, dark eyes blazing.

'you break up with me all of a sudden then expect me to be okay with it?' he continues. he inches closer, towering over you.

you stare up at him, gaze cold and hard.

"it's hilarious" you say, keeping your voice level, 'how you didn't contact me for weeks at a time while we were together and now that im not putting up with your shit anymore you come crawling back.'

"i told you that i'd do better. we can make it work, i'm serious." his tone low.

"why do you keep deluding yourself into thinking you can fix this? you'll literally be touring for the next two months. forget seeing me, you won't even have time to call me."

you feel a lump form in your throat, quickly turning away so he wouldn't see your eyes moisten.

"why don't you have any trust in me?" he says exasperated. he grabs your wrist forcing you to face him.

'please. give me a chance,' he whispers, gaze intently fixed on you.

all this was too overwhelming for you. your exhaustion, him being in your space asking questions you couldn't answer, and in the middle of it all, you being very aware of his closeness to you in this moment, face so close to yours you were tempted to brush the hair out of his eyes...

shut the fuck up, you tell yourself off mentally. you look at gunwook, determined to drive him out.

"why the hell should i trust you?" you say. 'all the missed calls, cancelled dates, all you did was take me for granted.'

"that's not true", his jaw clenching.

"it's how you made me feel."

"you have no idea how *i* feel. i-"

"i do. you're a selfish jerk. you don't give a fuck about me, you don't-"

"LET ME SPEAK!" gunwook yells, voice making a boom that resonates throughout the room. you jump, shocked at the outburst. gunwook looks at you intensely, eyes blazing with passion.

'i missed you everyday. it was hard for me too, spending so much time apart from you and not even being able to contact you because the managers were always watching.'

he takes a step closer.

'i was going to see you first as soon as i came back to korea. but then you texted me all of a sudden saying 'it's over' and then disappeared?? you have no idea how much that broke me.' his voice breaks on the last sentence.

you look up at him sadly, clenching your jaw and trying to control your impulse to hug him. you couldn't. not now. you didn't want to start something you couldn't finish.

"i think you should leave," you say quietly.

gunwook stays standing in the same spot clearly having no intentions to abide by your words. he inches closer to you, eyes shining.

"stop. gunwook, i said don't come closer," you warn as he takes slow steps towards you.

the look in his eyes made you nervous. it was the way he'd look at you before you'd leave a party together, giving your thigh a quick squeeze with you both knowing exactly what the night was in for.

'gunwook, seriously...' you breathe, your breath quickening. he continues to approach you silently with that intent look in his eyes, staring down at you fervently.

'really i don't think we should-' you begin to say before a long finger rests on your lips shushing you.

"quiet." he says in a lowered voice.

his hand rests on the wall beside you, his face inches from yours. he cocks his head to the side with a smile. your pupils waver as you look up at him.

"got anything else to say?" gunwook whispers, pinning you against the wall. he smirks.

a hand roams down to the waistband of your shorts, cool fingers meeting the heat of your center. you can't help but let out a shaky sigh, having forgotten what this felt like in the time you spent apart.

you stare at him fervently. tall, broad shoulders, and those determined eyes that'd observe every detail of the way your body responded to him.

and the expression on your face is more than enough to let gunwook know how you feel. you want him. all of him.

you both melt into a mess in each other's arms. your hands locked behind his neck, his enveloping your waist as you share a rough, sloppy kiss. as if you're both trying to consume eachother, as if you're making up for lost time.

his full lips lock around yours, the heat of your tongues melding as you both kiss passionately, not even moving in time as your mutual desperation drives you to take in as much of each other as you can.

you pull him closer by the collar and run your hands through his thick black hair. you bite gently on his full bottom lip and he kisses you harder, tongue exploring your mouth tasting you.

a trail of hurriedly removed clothes is splayed on the floor behind you as you lay under him on the sofa. with his body on top of you, the heat of his milky skin against yours has a flush rising in your center. you drag a hand from his broad chest down to his toned abs, and he gazes at you beneath him with all the yearning in the world behind those brown eyes. he leaves warm kisses trailing down your body, the tingle of his breath on your flesh sending a shiver down your spine so you arch into his touch. he looks down at you with an intoxicating gaze, a large hand enveloping the curve of your waist, and kisses your stomach.

"i missed this so badly," he says in a lowered voice.

he positions your legs to rest on his shoulders and begins to plant open-mouthed kisses on your inner thighs. you gasp, the muscles in your thighs contracting. his tongue makes contact with your throbbing pussy, lewdly licking a stripe up your slit. your eyes flutter shut as he begins to work his magic on your center, the movements of his tongue slow and sensual at first, then increasing in speed as your hips began to undulate against his mouth, your body begging for more.

his tongue runs up and down your folds, your thighs trembling but remaining firmly locked in place by his firm grip. he laps up your arousal like a dog thirsty for water, the view of your breasts jolting as you reacted to his touch further motivating him to deepen his movements.

you moan desperately and throw your head back. his grip on your flesh tightens and he moans against your clit, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure through your body. you peer down at him and feel your center flutter at the view; his muscled arms flexing wrapped around your thighs, face buried in your pussy letting out impassioned moans.

you lace a hand through his thick hair, tugging gently and moaning as he continues stimulating your clit. you make eye contact, a faint blush seeping across your cheeks at the intensity of his gaze. he picks up the pace and you let out a yelp. the relentless flicks of his tongue against your clit having your hips rolling against his tongue more and more deeply.

fuck, you really did miss him.

you plead in a shaky voice: "gunwook.. need you inside me..." and he retracts slowly from your center, almost reluctantly as he breaks out of his daze.

"oh yeah?" he asks with a sly smirk. 'guess you missed this a lot, huh?' he begins to kiss your neck lazily, his hand roaming your body again.

"s-so full of yourself.." you stutter, unable to deliver this remark as bitingly as you intend as he pinches your nipple lightly.

"don't i have a right to be?" he smiles. continuing to caress you. 'after all..' he whispers, 'isn't this what you missed the most after i came back from overseas schedules?'

his long fingers are now between your legs, rubbing along the length of your center and drawing circles around your clit. you let out a moan, stomach contracting in pleasure as your hips rise to ask for more again. gunwook really did know you inside and out. exactly how to touch you so you'd be gasping and arching into him.

he aligns his erect cock with your pussy, tip red and leaking a bead of precum. as he pushes his length inside you, you throw your head back and gasp for air at the feeling of him filling you up. his massive length still had you gasping for air even though you'd had sex countless times already. he lets out a deep moan at the way your pussy wraps around his cock and begins to move his hips, thrusting deeper inside you.

you lock your fingers around his neck so you're inches apart from eachothers faces, both hearing eachothers breathy sighs of exhilaration. his weight on top of you makes you feel engulfed in him.

gunwook's cheeks are flushed, his eyes slanted and locked on yours as you moan and whimper looking into his eyes with each thrust. he adjusts his hips so his cock starts to hit that spot deep inside you with every thrust, prompting a loud "fuck!" from you.

your pussy clenches around his length deliciously, and he can't help but squeeze his eyes shut and moan into your neck.

"fuck, jagi... feels like this pussy was made for me," he breathes.

"don't.. call me jagi.." you protest weakly between thrusts, not sure you even believe your own words at this point.

he lets out a breathy laugh and his pace quickens.

"or what?" he challenges, his voice low and husky in your ear.

his thrusts become faster and harder so you scream out in ecstasy, his strong thrusts having you moaning and gasping for air.

"ah, j-just like that.. fuck!" you cry between moans.

gunwook starts to rub circles on your clit again sending another wave of pleasure crashing over you, the overstimulation making your head spin. your hands claw helplessly at his broad back leaving red scratches in their wake. your eyes begin to water and you look at him through half-lidded eyes, his gaze meeting yours with the same emotions. his bangs are damp from perspiration, hair falling into his narrowed eyes.

"gunwook- i- please-" you stutter out before screwing your eyes shut, your jaw open in a fixed contortion of pleasure.

"what was that, jagi? can't hear you." he chuckles with a raspy voice.

the view of you overstimulated and teary eyed, literally fucked dumb, drives gunwook crazy. he lets out a raspy sigh as he watches his length moving in and out of you. your pussy is dripping wet, the sound of skin slapping against skin so raw and visceral that you both start to cum. your hips begin to rut against his, your movements and impassioned breaths syncing with eachother in time. he moans, forehead against yours.

you gaze blearily and kiss him passionately. your climax begins to run through you and you moan between his lips, your cries becoming louder as he fucks you through your orgasm.

"ah, gunwook!" you throw your head back and cry out at the feeling of his cock pushing inside you as your walls contract around him, practically having you seeing stars.

gunwook lets out a constrained grunt as he reaches his climax, biceps flexing as he grips the arm of the sofa. with a final impassioned thrust he pulls out just as he cums, hot sticky fluid coating your stomach. he sinks on top of you as you both catch your breath, a mess of slick and perspiration. your arms are wrapped around his back as he sinks his head into your neck, warm breath tickling your skin.

he gazes at you laying before him staring up at him through half-lidded eyes.

"just look at this, jagi. we're so good together." he breathes.

you regard him with half-lidded eyes, chest rising and falling against his.

"should we… start over?" you whisper.

#zb1 #zerobaseone #zb1 smut #gunwook scenarios #zerobaseone gunwook #gunwook x reader #gunwook smut #park gunwook smut

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mitch-the-silly · 8 months ago

Note

VOX PART 2 AAAAAAA

Alright y'all, I locked in today, so it's time to get fed! Flock around!

Vox x fem!reader

Angst!!!

"Can't Seem to Hold Me, Can't Seem to Let Him Go" Pt.2

Part 1

The moving truck pulled up to the V-Tower’s parking, you hugged your torso as you saw them go inside your shared room with Vox. You were taking your dresser and your clothes, your nightstand and your lamp. You were done with this. He’d refuted you and put you at the bottom of his priority list. It was despicable and you hated the very notion of him right now. After all the time you two spent together…

You wiped a few tears off your face as you called a Taxi driving off to your new apartment. Vox wasn’t watching you right now, he was sure to be watching Alastor. So you fled to your newly acquired studio apartment. The only thing in the small living space was your mattress, the fridge, and the stove. It looked quite barren, but it was a start. You knew you meant nothing to Vox at this point, so despite the cramped space you were to live in now, distancing yourself from him was going to be a new beginning for you. A chapter of your life in which you didn’t depend on Vox. And while it may hurt you now, you knew that it would eventually fade… right?

However, your departure from the V-Tower wasn’t quite unnoticed. Despite Alastor occupying most of his attention, there came a time in which Vox HAD to sleep. Thus prompting him to go to his room. Of course, he expected you to be there. Yeah, he’d yelled at you today, but you couldn’t be too mad. Nothing an apology couldn’t fix.

He opened the door to your shared bungalow suite, calling out to you nonchalantly, “Hey babe, I’m done with work for today. You want to… watch a movie or something, I don’t know.” He shrugged walking into the suite bedroom. The second he opened the door, he paused.

Some furniture was missing. Your nightstand was gone and a painting he’d bought you for your birthday was taken off the wall too, nowhere to be seen. This could not be. What the hell happened to you? He ran towards your closet; it was empty.

Fuck.

You weren’t kidnapped or anything, you left willingly.

No no no no. Not now. Not now. This wasn’t possible. The only person who so adoringly loved him was gone. At the cusp of his rivalry with Alastor. The love and validation he solely craved, the very little he had… no, the abundance he had which he was absolutely oblivious to.

What had he done to make her THIS mad at him?

Fuck… That thing she asked him… She’d asked him if she was important to him and instead of replying to her properly… no, why had he done that? Well… he knew why. Alastor. He wasn’t really ready (and shit, he might never be) to truly delve into why Alastor made him too erratic aside from the obvious rivalry.

Regardless of all of this, he couldn’t stand the thought of having driven you away. He took the first object he saw and slammed it into the wall. He didn’t know what it was he’d picked up until he heard the shattering of ceramic. It was a mug you’d picked out for him. He’d left it on his nightstand the night before after drinking a cup of tea. He looked down at it, the little red letters on the now shattered navy blue mug made his livid expression rapidly morph into a self-loathing frown.

He had to find her. Now.

He zapped out of the room, checking cameras, asking around, stopping every sinner in his building for information. And, desperate for an answer, he even recurred to his fellow Vees. First asking Velvette, who somehow had no answer to give him.

Last resort: Valentino. Vox was more than hesitant to ask Valentino of all people about your whereabouts because if he knew he wouldn’t tell him and of course, if he didn’t he obviously would have nothing today, but Vox wasn’t going to pass up a possible lead on finding you. So he stormed into Valetino’s tower, slamming the door open, not even waiting for the girls at his door to open it for him. Upon doing this, Vox was met with an annoyed, nasty look from Valentino.

“The fuck, Vox? What’s up your ass today?... Because it could be me but your little girlfriend wouldn’t like that, obviously.” Val sighed, rolling his eyes. He was watching something on his TV, not wanting to look away because of how invested he was in it (or maybe because he already couldn’t see the screen, so he had to work extra hard to even know who was talking to whom).

“Real funny Val; where is she? Have you seen her?” Vox asked, ignoring his vulgar comment, hoping to seem like he still had some sort of composure.

“Oh, she’s not in your bed right now? Are you really here looking for the little slut?” Valentino chuckled, turning towards him.

“D̵o̴n̶'̸t̶ ̵y̴o̴u̷ ̸f̵u̵c̴k̶i̵n̶g̴ ̶c̴a̴l̶l̵ ̶h̸e̵r̶ ̴t̴h̷a̴t̸,̶ ̴I̵'̶m̸ ̵n̷o̴t̶ ̷i̷n̴ ̶t̸h̸e̵ ̵d̵a̶m̴n̷ ̷m̶o̸o̵d̶.” Vox spat back, his patience waning quickly and his voice crackling in annoyance.

Valentino scrunched up his face in offense, “Shit, fine! Ugh… last I saw her, she got in a Taxi. I thought she had some errand to run. Now get the fuck out of here, you’re killing my fucking vibe.” Valentino huffed, turning back to his program.

Vox wasted no time zapping out of the tower, as Valentino called out, “Have fun chasing your bitch!” Much to his benefit, Vox was already gone when he said this.

He zapped from camera to camera, looking through each for a millisecond. He had millions of cameras and he had to move fast. And this he did! Eventually catching a glimpse of a feature that identified you. He remained there in front of the camera where he’d last seen you. However, unluckily for him, the camera was in a hallway and he had no access to the room behind those doors.

He knocked on the door gently, adjusting his collar and manifesting a bouquet of flowers into exitance and into his hands. He gave the closed door his widest smile, hoping to do the same to your face.

“Coming!” You called out from the other side of the door, unaware of who was behind it. You would be privy to who was knocking on your door, however, the second you looked into the peephole.

You opened the door, looking Vox up and down, “There is no fucking way in Hell.” You scoffed.

“Babe… hey…” He mumbled, his smile weakening a bit.

“Yeah no, drop the bit. Get the fuck out of here, my place in your priority list was left very clear this morning. You don’t even deserve a breakup text, go away.” You huffed, turning around and attempting to close the door behind you. However, the attempt failed due to Vox sticking his foot between the doorframe and the door itself.

“Sweetheart, come on! I’m sorry! It wasn’t that big of a deal, let’s just-”

“It wasn’t that big of a deal!? VOX. I asked you if I was important to you and you replied with ‘Alastor is more important.’!” You yelled at him, outraged at his comment.

“Actually, I said ‘Alastor is important to me right now.’ ” Vox corrected, which did not really help his case.

“Are you fucking serious right now?! That’s pretty much the same thing?! Who the fuck responds to that question with that sort of answer!?” You spat back.

“Come onnnn! You can’t hate me that much over it, I didn’t mean, I was just… busy…” Vox explained; a half-assed explanation in your opinion.

“Vox, you little shit, you’ve been, ‘busy’ for months now! Too busy in fact that you missed MY FUCKING BIRTHDAY WEEKS AGO! And here I am like an idiot thinking, ‘Oh, he’s probably really stressed! Lemme hop off his dick and not get on him because he’s gonna feel bad.’ BUT NOOOO! APPARENTLY ALASTOR IS MORE FUCKING IMPORTANT TO YOU!” You cried out, tears welling up in your eyes as you hit him out of the pure frustration seeping out from you.

Vox took the hits; he deserved them. How could he have forgotten? This is why you responded this way. “I’m so sorry baby… I… you’re not gonna believe me but I did genuinely forget about what days have passed…”

“Fuck if I care, you already fucked up.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes at him.

“NO BABE! Please… just… I can’t lose you, please, I fucked up, I’ll fix it! What do you want? I- I- have my wallet here, here’s my card! You can get whatever you want! It’s on me!” He insisted, one rejection away from physically groveling at your feet.

Rejection which you’d sure give him. “Are you trying to buy me back?!” You replied, stepping back away from him.

“No no no! That’s not it! I just- W-what else can I do? No no, what do you want me to do?” He asked, getting on his knees in front of you. Claws dug into the floor as he looked up at you in emotional agony.

“I want you to get the fuck out of here.” You spoke. Nice and simple.

“NO! Please! Baby! You gotta give me a chance! I’ll fix anything you ask me to! I’ll take you everywhere with me if you need me to! Please! I’ll treat you like the goddess you are! Just… don’t leave me… please…” He begged the flowers in his hand already disheveled and lacking petals. He seemed… genuinely afraid of receiving no as an answer to this question. It sort of pained you.

You looked back at him, hesitant to speak again, “Are you… are you lying to me?”

“Of course not! You name it, I’ll do it! I just… don't ask m why but I just can’t stand the thought of fucking losing you…” Vox replied, still begging on his knees for your return.

You groaned, giving him a look of pity, he… he was insecure… this was the version of him where you could see under all his masks… “Fine… I’ll go back. But just know that if you play some shit like this again I’m NOT taking you back. I don’t give a shit how hard you beg.” You replied, taking the bouquet of flowers from his hands.

You looked at them, and despite them being all beat up, they were beautiful…

Taglist for this fic:

@preciousbabypeter

@readergirlstuff

@shanksstrawhat

@call-me-nyxx

@vexendoe @luujjvi @ghosterstrudel @sirenetheblogger @farah-o-0 @tinathepineapplelover @vox-simp @thegreathiroshi @futureittomainn @mimikyu-of-death @absolut3lyn0t @chaotickitten91

#hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel x reader #vox #vox x reader #vox hazbin #hazbin alastor #radiostatic coded #vox angst #valentino hate #hazbin #vox x reader angst

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tigirl-and-co · 2 years ago

Text

How Finite is Love?

This is a short little piece set in @shirecorn‘s super cool mlp AU! This is just a first pass at it, I’ll definitely refine it if I post it to a fic site. I just HAD to get this out though, the au hits all my sweet spots!

Shining Armor considers the ponies he loves, and how a mortal pony can love goddesses.

Shining Armor held no resentment towards his two favourite mares. It wasn't their fault. They had no choice. Shining wasn't certain he believed in destiny, but whatever happened to his wife and baby sister sure was close.

First it was his wife, and that he could handle. She was an adult. They had fallen in love in highschool, they had grown together, Shining knew how strong Cadance was. If anypony deserved ascension, it was her.

If anypony could weather this, it was them.

He loved his wife with every bone in his body, every fiber of his being, every ounce of magic he could channel. And he knew she felt the same. If she didn't... this never would have happened.

Can love be a curse? Can loving somepony too much damn your soul? Can it save it?

About a month after Cadance gained her horn, Shining Armor decided dwelling on these questions wasn't helpful, and the answers didn't matter. He loved Cadance, and Cadance loved him. He couldn't change the past, wasn't sure if he even would -- but he was dead set on building a happy future.

At least as happy as he could give her. He couldn't guarantee that the love his mortal body held would last into her infinity, but he was determined to try.

He hoped it wouldn't destroy her to leave him behind, when the time came.

He loved her too much for that.

===

He had celebrated when The Sun took notice of Twilight.

The young stallion was oblivious to the looks of quiet worry on his parents' faces, the body language that said they were resigned to a cautious optimism. How could the attention of the source of Equestrian life bring anything but fortune?

He wasn't yet old enough to have heard the whispers. The old fables weren't circulated in school for fear of divine retribution, and Shining Armor was not as studious as his sibling.

Now?

Had he the power, he would have torn The Sun from the sky.

His baby sister, the sweetest and most sensitive mare he had ever known, damned to an eternity of watching her friends die.

She was a child (she was older than Cadance had been) she needed protection (she had brought down false gods) she wasn't ready (The Sun had learned from its mistakes, this new goddess was more than prepared).

She needed him.

Didn't she?

(She did, once.)

He was proud of her, of course. And if he had been watching for the signs, he wouldn't have been surprised.

Twilight Sparkle had always had an innate love for those around her. Before she had locked herself away in that tower amongst the tomes, she had been a kind filly. And even then, she had never quite managed to harden her heart.

She was still openly affectionate with him, with Cadance, with Twilight Velvet and Night Light. She shared her knowledge with them because it was how she said 'I love you.'

Leave it to a goddess to exploit that trait.

When Shining managed to find time to talk with his Twily after she had earned her wings, she had said her job as goddess was 'to spread the knowledge of friendship' and to teach others what friendship truly meant. She sounded excited, happy. She had found a purpose for her research.

Shining Armor wasn't sure if his baby sister hadn't yet considered the consequences of eternal life, or if it simply didn't bother her. He didn't ask.

He realized that while she was still his Twily, and would be until the day he died, she was more. She was Ponyville's friend. She was Celestia's Twilight Sparkle.

She was Equestria's new goddess.

He renewed his vow to remain her BBBFF forever, to keep her safe from turmoil and danger.

He swallowed down his anger and despair that night, in favour of his inevitable role as protector. He had his cutie mark, and he knew what it meant.

===

Shining Armor loved the mares in his life, and he would go to the ends of Equestria to keep them safe and happy, whether they needed him or not.

He was glad, at least, that they would have each other.

#my writing #mlp #fanfiction #shining armor #princess mi amore cadenza #twilight sparkle #dude it took me half as long to get the formatting to work as it did to write what the HECK #i don't know why sometimes i get the text editor with colour and sometimes I don't #anywayyyyyy #i am considering a follow up where he ascends and becomes the god-prince of protection #and the three of them become considered a trifecta #they are the abstractions as opposed to the sun and moon's concretes #i'm usually not into happy endings i'm very into bittersweet stuff #but the tantalizing concept of creating a god. a mythos. well that's something i'm very into #silly shining! just because they don't*need* you doesn't mean they don't *want* you!#and that's why he's not the god of love

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tethrras · 14 days ago

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a soft place to land

vittoria de riva x lucanis dellamorte. 2.7k. fluff, hurt/comfort, flirting. click here to read on ao3.

Vittoria is no stranger to loneliness.

It keeps her bed cold and her nights quiet. Sometimes she’s grateful for it and other times the longing for something more, the same longing she’s felt since childhood, threatens to strangle her. But she’s a Crow, and Crows can’t afford connections like that, so she doesn’t complain and instead spends long nights sharpening her blades in silence. Sharpening blades or, when she feels longing’s hands tightening around her neck, sitting in the window of her apartment in the canal district and watching the civilians of the city go about their lives.

“Her” apartment isn’t her apartment at all. It’s an abandoned apartment overlooking the market that no one has lived in for what seems like a decade, if not longer. She found it after one of her first contracts, and it’s the only place in Treviso that she can escape to without feeling the need to look over her shoulder for Viago. On nights she can’t sleep and doesn’t want to think or train, she scales the surface of the tower and settles in the window, letting the heartbeat of Treviso lull her into something that might resemble sleep. Visiting the apartment is what she misses most about home, and after seeing what happened to Minrathous, after hearing about what's happening in the South, she wants to visit it again. Who knows if - who knows when - it’ll be the last time?

She intends to head for the Eluvian with little fanfare - the others don’t need to know about her trip - but when she reaches the bottom of the staircase in the library, she finds Lucanis sitting on a chair with a cup of coffee in his hand and a book open in his lap. He looks up at her as her footsteps slow to a stop.

“De Riva.”

“Dellamorte.”

Vittoria shifts her weight from one foot to the other as a slight smile creases Lucanis’s lips.

“You’re going out.” He appraises her armor with a raised brow. She should’ve cleaned it earlier like she had meant to…

“I am.” Vittoria rests her hand on the hilt of her sword. “But I won’t be gone for long.”

“Where to?”

“Home,” she answers, then, “Treviso. Ever since we got back from Minrathous…”

He glances down at his lap then. “I know.”

She can tell he feels as she does - guilt for what happened to Minrathous, to the Shadow Dragons, to Neve, but gratefulness that the same - or worse - didn’t happen to Treviso. It’s a poor consolation, but consolation at all is priceless in times like this.

Vittoria clears her throat. “Would you…”

“Would I what?”

“Um. Nothing,” she insists, shaking her head. Of course he wouldn’t want to come with her - he’s clearly in the middle of something. She’s not sure she wants company, either. “Anyway, I won’t be long. If anyone asks for me -”

“Were you going to ask me if I’d like to come with you?”

“... No.”

“Then what were you going to ask?”

She knows very well that Lucanis didn’t know who she was before she rescued him from the Ossuary, despite the two decades that she has spent with the Crows. It continues to surprise her that he understands her better than Viago ever has after only a month or two. No wonder he’s such a good assassin - he’s very good at reading his mark. She clears her throat. “Alright,” she confesses. “I was.”

“I thought so.” He stands up, takes a long sip from his teacup, and then places it down on the saucer. “Let me get my things. I will meet you at the Eluvian.”

He doesn’t leave her waiting long, and they travel home through the Crossroads in companionable silence. Vittoria can’t help but glance over at him from time to time. While he didn’t notice her in the past, she certainly noticed him - she even thought she had been in love with him once, though she’s sure now that she didn’t know what love meant. Or means. But he and Illario had a life that all Crow recruits wanted for themselves, and Vittoria had been one of them. The acclaim. The attention from the Talons. The inherent talent. When she was younger, she thought that having the attention of someone like Lucanis would’ve made her life easier - easier than the attention from Viago, anyway - and she strove for years to get that attention. She grew out of it eventually, and then, of course, he died, and whatever leftover feelings she might have had died with him. But now, the fact that not only is he alive, but that she was the one to save him… Sometimes it doesn’t feel real, and she always catches herself looking at him to make sure he’s really here.

“We’re not going to the Diamond,” she says when the two of them reach the Treviso Eluvian. “If you wanted to check in with Teia and Viago...”

“Hm. Then where are we going?”

“I have a place in the city that I go to. I consider it… well… a home. Of sorts. I wanted to make sure it was still standing, after…”

Lucanis nods. “I understand. But maybe we can check in with Teia and Viago while we’re here…” At Vittoria’s wince, he gives her a smile. “Or not.”

“Thank you.” There is a part of her that loves Viago, however complicated and repressed that part is, but the last thing she needs right now is a lecture.

“Of course. No one understands the desire to avoid Viago as well as I do, believe me.”

She steps through the Eluvian with Lucanis on her heels.

Most of the Crows are asleep for the night, so the two of them meet no resistance at the Casino, and from there she leads him through the familiar streets in silence. It’s a short walk, though, and soon enough she’s standing at the base of the apartment building and refreshing herself on her usual footholds. She hasn’t been here since before she saved Varric all those months ago, and she would hate to fall to her death from the building that she’s scaled more than any other - in front of Lucanis, no less. To her relief, the tower doesn’t seem to have suffered in the face of the dragon attack. She glances back at her companion, who is staring up at the surface of the building the same way she had been moments ago.

“It’s not as tall as it looks,” she reassures him.

He meets her gaze. “Good thing I have wings.”

Vittoria has been climbing her whole life. As a child, she would spend hours scaling trees until she reached the top and could settle down in the branches with a book or wooden toy that she had stolen from one of her siblings. By the time she was six, she could scale the tallest tree on her family’s farm in one breath. When she first arrived in Antiva, it was the only thing that made her suited to the life of a Crow - everything else, the fighting and the thick skin and the iron stomach, came later. So climbing is second nature to her, and in no time, she’s heaving herself through the window and rolling onto the floor of her apartment. Lucanis follows. They stand up from the ground, dust themselves off, and meet each other’s eyes.

“This is it.” She says it more awkwardly than she’d meant to, and winces at herself. She thought she’d gotten over her infatuation with him - she doesn’t dwell on those old feelings when they’re working together side-by-side, killing Antaam and Venatori and Sentinels - but now that it’s the two of them, alone in an abandoned apartment with no gods or dragons for miles around, that soft spot of her heart feels rubbed raw. She turns away from him. “I’ve been coming here for years,” she says again. “I’m glad to see it’s still standing.”

Lucanis looks around curiously, and Vittoria does, too, to familiarize herself with the apartment again. There’s a bookshelf with a few books in it - books that she bought from the market herself, but can’t remember the contents of now - and a collection of knives sitting on a stool next to a well-worn whetstone. Above the stool is a series of scratches on the wall, each scratch representing one of her successful contracts. There must be more than a hundred scratches, but she’s not sure if he’d consider that a high or low number, so she resists the urge to call attention to it.

On one side of the room is the window from which she can see the market, and on the wall opposite is the window from which she can see the whole of Treviso spilling over the hills on the horizon, its silver spires sparkling in the moonlight. Lucanis lingers here, standing still for a long moment. When he speaks, it shatters the silence.

“I have never seen Treviso like this.”

“I haven’t seen it like this for a long time.”

She brushes past him and sits on the edge of the window. It’s what she would do if she were alone, after all, and that’s what she had been coming here to do - to be alone, to calm herself and soothe her nerves of steel. Even though she knows she won’t be able to do those things now that he’s here with her, she’s still going to pretend that she can. And it’s easy, because for a long, long moment, neither of them move. It's only when she turns her head to look at him that he sits down on the windowsill across from her, stretching his legs out until his feet are nearly in her lap.

She used to dream of this. Of sitting across from Lucanis, fighting alongside him, of him knowing her name and… knowing even more than that. When she was little, she always imagined what she would tell someone if they asked her about her childhood in Ferelden, and for some reason, sitting across from him, she feels the words leaving her mouth before she can think about it. “When I arrived in Antiva, all I could think about was how different it was from Ferelden. I hated it at first.” But even the word hate doesn’t capture her feelings, because she spent most nights in the year or two after she arrived sobbing in her bed until the other recruits realized that hitting her hard enough could convince her to be quiet. “But I can’t remember what Ferelden looks like anymore. I can’t remember my family. All I know is Antiva, Treviso, Salle. The Crows. Viago. If Ghilan’nain’s dragon had…”

Vittoria glances over at Lucanis. He seems focused on something in the distance, but she notices him shift in his seat and straighten up when she looks for long enough.

“Did you recognize me?” She doesn’t know why she asks him this, but she does. “In the Ossuary?”

Lucanis shakes his head. “I didn’t. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I didn’t think you did.”

“But I wish that I had.” He turns to face her. “I don’t know how I never noticed you before, truthfully.”

“And why is that?”

He smiles again, and she resists the urge to glance back out the window. “You are an impressive woman, Vittoria.”

“Well.” She clears her throat. She doesn’t know what “impressive” means to him, if it means what she thinks it means or what it should mean or if it means something else, but her face flushes nevertheless. “I’ve worked hard to be.”

At that, his smile sours. “You know… You take very good care of us. Of the team. But I hope you don’t think that we can’t be there for you the way that you - ”

“I didn’t invite you here to give me a motivational speech.”

“Ah. You didn’t invite me at all, remember? I had to tease it out of you.”

Her face flushes even more at the word “tease”.

“I just mean that… If there is anything I can do for you, any difficulties you might be facing that I don’t know about… please tell me.” He sighs. “I know that I can’t do much, all things considered, but I can try to ease some of the weight off your shoulders if you let me. I have wings, you know. I can take it.”

“Please.” Vittoria waves her hand at him to dismiss the thought. “You keep me fed - that’s enough.”

“Mm.” He crosses his arms over his chest and nods. “And you do eat a lot more than the others, that’s true…”

“Hey!” She kicks his foot. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, nothing! It was merely an observation.”

“Watch it, Dellamorte.” She gestures to the open window. “You’d hit the ground before Spite realized what was happening.”

“Please don’t say his name right now. I don’t want him to ruin the moment.”

There it is - another word that might mean something to him but also might mean nothing. She didn’t realize that whatever’s happening between them right now could be considered a moment… but at the same time, she has started to notice that he’s been giving her more attention since she saved him and the Crows from the dragon. He sits beside her at dinner, keeps close to her side in fights and in their travels through the Crossroads… and what had he been doing tonight, sitting in the library of the Lighthouse instead of the kitchen?

She tells herself that it doesn’t mean anything, though. It can’t mean anything. Vittoria could never live at Lucanis’s side. He’s in line to become First Talon, and his family has been a part of the Crows for hundreds and hundreds of years. No matter how much training she does, no matter what she does, Vittoria won’t ever feel like she belongs to the Crows or like the Crows belong to her. She doesn’t think she’ll ever rid herself of the fear that one wrong move will be the end of it - of her life here, or of her life at all. And she feels the same about Lucanis. If she pushes her luck too far, who can she trust to watch her back the way she trusts him? She needs to focus on finding allies right now. Not a lover.

If he was interested in her at all. Which he isn’t. He can’t be.

“We don’t have to talk, you know,” she tells him, more for her sake than his. If her face flushes any more tonight, she might burst into flames. “We can just sit here and… look out at our city.”

“Our city.” Lucanis turns away from her and rests his head against the window frame, settling in and looking more at ease than she’s ever seen him. And while watching him in motion is enough to drive her to madness, seeing him at ease might be even worse. Watching his chest rise and fall with long, measured breaths. Watching his eyelashes flutter like he’s trying to keep himself awake. He is a beautiful thing, Lucanis. She’s sure being loved by him would be a beautiful thing, too.

“Before we stop talking, then, let me say one last thing: thank you for saving our city.” His voice is softer than a whisper, so soft that she has to lean in to hear what comes next. “And even though I didn’t know you before, I am glad that I know you now.”

As allies. As friends. As teammates. While she knows that’s all he means, it’s still something. Vittoria smiles at him. “Me too.”

True to his word, Lucanis doesn’t speak again for the rest of the night. Neither does Vittoria. (Neither does Spite.) They watch the sun rise over the mountains surrounding their home and then decide that it’s time to return to the Lighthouse to rest before they see the First Warden. But if things go well, if she somehow figures out a way to stop the gods, then she might bring him back here and tell him all the things that no one has ever thought to ask her about. He might even want to know.

#oc: vittoria #pairing: vittoria x lucanis #my writing #my ocs #it's been a long time since i've finished and posted a FULL da fic so i'm feeling super rusty #and admittedly i know this is not my best work #but i am trying to be one of the first of everyone's mutuals to post datv fic so.#LKSJDFLJSDKFJDSL #I DO IT FOR MY FOMO <3 I DO IT FOR THE RECOGNITION <3 #anyway i think i wrote lucanis pretty faithfully here but we don't see enough of him to know slkjfklsd #i'm still trying to get a grasp on him he's a lot squishier than i thought he would be #but alas and alack and etc....#datv spoilers #rook x lucanis #rookcanis #dragon age the veilguard fic #datv fic

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reigningqueenofwords · 3 months ago

Text

Dad

Pairing: Steve x Reader, Bucky x daughter!Reader

Part 19 of Looking for the Captain

Bruce was in his lab when Steve called. “Hello.” He answered quickly, worried. “Is everyone okay?” Did something happen? He couldn’t think of another reason for Steve to be calling.

“Well.” He sighed. “We..don’t know.” He told him awkwardly.

He froze. “What do you mean you ‘don’t know’?” He was clearly confused. “Is anyone hurt? Sick?”

Steve ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll skip all the details, but would Plan B work for us? Me and Y/N?” He clarified, wincing. Who else would he be talking about? Bruce was smart, and could have figured that out for himself.

“Uh.” It wasn’t like there was a ton of research on this topic. When would they have been able to do research on this, and then publish the findings? “I honestly can’t say…” He admitted.

While Steve was on the phone, you took the pill anyway. It couldn’t hurt to try, right? “Oh, uh, I should warn you. The cashier said that you won’t feel too hot for a few days, and your period might feel way worse.” Bucky told you. “His girlfriend had to take it once and hated it. Said it felt like Freddy Krueger was in her stomach or something.” He made a face. He didn’t like thinking of you dealing with that. It was something else he couldn’t protect you from.

You made a face. “Well, that sucks.” You grumbled, not looking forward to any of that. “Kinda wish I was at the tower for that.” You admitted. “Could have asked Bruce for some pain killers.”

Steve came in and his face didn’t give you hope. “So, he can’t say.” He started. “There’s obviously no research on this. He suggested taking it as a just in case, because it might work.” He felt bad now. This hadn’t even crossed his mind last night, and it really should have. He shouldn’t have let himself get so carried away.

“Already did.” You told him, slightly worried. “Apparently I won’t feel hot for a few days, and my next period might be worse than usual.” You scrunched your nose. “So, I’m sorry if I’m a bitch.” You half joked.

He let out half a chuckle. “It’s okay.” He assured you. “When is your period due?”

“A week and a half.” It would probably feel like much longer.

“Do I need to go back to the store for supplies?” Bucky asked, clearly hoping that the answer was ‘no’. “Or do you want me to head to the tower to ask Bruce for something?” It would be a long drive, but he’d do it in a heartbeat if it meant you wouldn’t have to deal with the pain.

You shook your head. “I packed for it, don’t worry.” You assured him. “I’ll let you know, though. If what I packed isn’t enough.” Who knows if you’d want something closer to that time. “So, should we get your camp setup early? Then we can spend the rest of the day playing board games and watching movies?” Maybe this would be a good way for the three of you to bond and get over this awkwardness your father felt. “Then after dinner I can make us some drinks.” You offered. “Relax and all that.”

Bucky nodded. “Sure.” He easily agreed, pushing that morning from his mind. “Stevie can help me pitch the ten-” He gave you a bored look as you giggled. “Haha. Very mature.” He rolled his eyes for effect. “Anyways. We’ll get the tent set up, how about you work on getting the air mattress blown up. I can bring it out after.” Sure, he grabbed a sleeping bag, but why not put that on the air mattress.

“I think I’ll only have a drink or two.” Steve noted. “I want to remain alert. The chances of someone getting to you here is low, but I don’t want to risk it.” That was the last thing that he wanted. “But, I’m sure that there will be a party once this passes.” He chuckled. “Tony will throw one himself. Then I will let myself let loose. Deal?”

You grinned at that. “Deal.” You agreed easily.

It didn’t take long for everything to be set up out back. It actually looked like a comfy little camping set up, if you were being honest. “How about a game of Sorry!, and then I’ll make lunch?” You suggested, looking at the two guys.

“Sure.” They both agreed easily.

“HAHAH! Sucker!” You laughed as you once again sent one of Bucky’s pawns back to home.

“That’s like the fourth time!” He groaned. “Are you cheating?” He teased.

“How would I cheat? You see what card I draw, and how many spaces I move.” You giggled, pulling your hair up. You were clearly very amused.

Bucky gave you a playful glare. “You were a mean little shit when you played Candy Land, weren’t you?”

You played along, putting your hand on your chest as you gasped. “I will have you know , I was a delight playing Candy Land! It was Chutes and Ladders that did it.”

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. He was glad that things were calm at the moment. Maybe this cabin would help you have a better relationship with Bucky. Taking his card, he sighed. “Go back 4 spots.” He read. “I know I won’t be winning this round.” He mused.

“Awe.” You patted his arm. “Should we move to go fish next?” You grinned.

“I’d say poker, but I have a feeling you can play that, too.” He raised an eyebrow at you as Bucky took his turn.

You made a ‘so-so’ motion with your hand. “I’m not like really good at it, but I know how to play.” You shrugged. “I learned how to play at a frat party my freshman year in collage. I got bored and found some playing cards. A couple of the frat twins and their dates taught me.”

“They weren’t bothered that you weren’t enjoying the party?” Bucky asked.

“Not really. They were seniors and used to the parties at that point. They knew it wasn’t for everyone. They were more shocked I wasn’t in a sorority.”

“Why weren’t you?” Steve was honestly curious. You were very sociable, and would likely thrive in that environment.

“I actually planned on it. Found one I thought I would love. Then pledge week started, and so did the hazing.” You scrunched your nose. “I bowed out. I think hazing isn’t as bad as it used to be, but still needs to just stop.”

Bucky shook his head. “Proud of you for not putting yourself through that.” He’d seen hazing in a couple movies, and couldn’t understand why people agreed to it. It didn’t seem all that worth it to him.

You couldn’t help but smile at him. “Thanks.” It was a nice change from the pair of you butting heads so much. There was a glimmer of hope that maybe you could have an actual father-daughter relationship with him.

You won Sorry!, and then went to make some sandwiches while the two of them hung out in the living room. Steve offered to help, but you declined. You had a feeling the pair of them hadn’t had a chance to hang out in years. You took your time so that they didn’t have only a few minutes. As you made each sandwich, you hummed to yourself.

Bucky lounged in a chair as Steve sat on the couch. “It’s been awhile, huh, Stevie?” He mused.

Steve nodded, a sad smile on his face. “It has. Too long.” He agreed. “Hopefully once this is over with it won’t be years before I see you again?” He glanced at his best friend.

He chuckled. “That’s the plan. What, think I’ll take off and just show up again for the wedding?” He felt that maybe joking with him would help. He was taking Nat’s word to heart- what if Stevie was dating literally anyone else that made him this happy?

“Jesus, Buck.” He glanced at the kitchen, hoping you hadn’t heard. “We literally just started dating. No one has mentioned that.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow at him. “I’ve known you since we were kids, punk.” He reminded him. “And Stark said he sees that in your future with her.” Bucky admitted softly. “Then pointed out I’d be the grandfather to my best friend’s kids.”

He furrowed his brows. “When did he say that?”

“When I went to ask him for the address for the cabin.” He shrugged. “Anyways, what should we watch while we eat?” He could hear you coming back, and knew Steve could, too.

“Oh, I vote something funny. Save the scary for at night.” You said as you set the tray down with their plates and drinks. “How about you pick?” You suggested to Bucky as you went to get your food, making you wonder if you’d ever call him ‘dad’. The idea was so foreign to you. And you were so wounded in the parent department at the moment. With everything that had happened with your father, and then your mother attacking the tower. Clearly she hadn’t been herself, but could you ever look at her and not be afraid? Was your relationship shattered?

Resting your hands on the counter you hung your head as you took a deep breath. You pushed off the counter and swallowed those emotions. Rolling your shoulders, you got your lunch and went back to the guys to see what Bucky picked.

Thankfully you’d managed to keep those thoughts from your mind all day. They didn’t sneak up on you again until you were on your third drink. The last thing that you wanted was to ruin the really good day the three of you had going. You’d played card games, board games, played with Goliath in the back, and watched a couple movies.

Downing the last half of your drink in one go, you let out a breath. “You boys have fun, I think I’m gonna get some sleep.” No need to add you hadn’t slept much the night before. “You guys have fun. Have some guy time doing whatever it is guys do.” You chuckled. “Night.” You leaned over, giving Steve a quick kiss. “Night, dad.” You said without realizing it before heading upstairs to the bedroom and gently shutting the door.

Bucky and Steve stared at each other. “Did she just call me dad?” Bucky asked, feeling a bit emotional.

“She did.” Steve smiled at him.

Tagging: @vicmc624 @hisredheadedgoddess28

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plussizefantasia · 2 years ago

Text

And Don't Forget It

Pairing: Tony Stark x F!PlusSize!reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: None

A/N: This is the first of many works I’ve been hoarding over the last few years I plan to go through and edit some of them and re-post them here but if that’s a horrible idea let me know. Comments are always appreciated and if you like this feel free to send me a request I’ve been looking for more inspiration (and validation)

Looking in the mirror for the sixth time tonight you exhaled nervously, this was the first gala you’d be attending as a new member of the team and it was important to you that you go this right. It’d only been a couple of months since Natasha had caught you saving some people during a bank robbery gone wrong, you were there to deposit your newest paycheck and then all of a sudden there was shouting and gunfire. You couldn’t just stand by and watch it go down, you’d had to step in even if it meant outing yourself as an enhanced. That day landed you in the back of a black SUV on your way to the tower.

Scanning your figure in the mirror you couldn't help the grin that spread across your face, this dress may have cost half of your paycheck but damn if it didn’t make you look good.

The gold fabric draped across your chest in a sexy but still classy way and the rest of the fabric cascaded down your body like a waterfall, it enhanced all the good parts while tucking away the back rolls and other things you didn’t exactly love. You looked like a goddess and the star chain headpiece you’d woven into your hair pulled everything together.

The knock on the door pulled you out of your reverie.

“You almost ready?” called Wanda. In lieu of an answer you simply opened the door with your clutch in hand. The screech that came from the witch almost burst your eardrum but you played into her hype and gave a turn and a pose.

“God you look hot, none of the guys up there will be able to take their eyes off you!” She kept hyping you up.

“Wan, you know there’s only one guy whose eyes I want.”

It was true, you held a torch for the resident playboy billionaire, not that he noticed. With how much time the man spent in his lab it was a wonder he noticed anything at all really. And yet he had always seemed flirty to you. That first day in the tower after Nat had practically kidnapped you from the bank he was there, with his stupid loud music and his stupid nicknames, and his stupidly handsome face. He had flirted with you then, you wrote it off as him just being a flirty guy, you don’t get the reputation of a playboy without putting in the effort.

His efforts hadn’t faded though, he still flirted with you whenever he saw you, leaving little comments in his wake when he wasn't sequestered in his tech cave.

After Wanda Nat and yourself had come back from a coffee run, “How I’d like to be a pair of your jeans”

After you sneezed in the kitchen, “I’d say bless you, but it looks like you already have been”

And your personal favorite, “If I told you you had a bangin’ body would you hold it against me?”

The little flirts were harmless enough but tonight was the night you were really gonna test his resolve. This little number was sure to catch his attention and hopefully end this little game of cat and mouse the two of you seemed to be playing.

____

Wanda and you stood in the elevator and watched the numbers climb as you made your way up from the residential floors to the party suit Tony had built just below his penthouse. As the doors slid open you were enveloped in the party atmosphere. Drinks were flowing and music was pounding, it wasn’t exactly a club but give it a few hours and couple more bottles of booze and it might get there.

“Ah! I see Viz, I’ll catch you later?” Wanda turned to you with a question in her eyes.

“Go, get your android babe.” You laughed and pushed a hand on her back to send her towards the floating humanoid robot conversing with the ever-awkward Dr. Banner at the bar.

You scanned the crowd and then your eyes found him, surrounded by people, he was truly in his element being the life of the party. You grabbed a shot off the tray being carried past for some more liquid courage and made your way toward the man of the evening.

He was telling a story, you couldn’t really hear the exact words but his smile and the movement of his hands were telling enough. You quickly averted your eyes before the sight of his hand caused you to trip yourself up.

After several agonizing moments where you watched him talk and gesture, slowly you could feel more and more eyes on your person as you made your way across the floor. It was kind of unnerving, but you'd come tonight for a reason, you needed to know if Tony was serious about whatever this was between the two of you.

It was a game you were willing to play but you'd much rather act out on all the desires floating around in your head instead of pushing them away or down because of some invisible boundaries set between the two of you.

You finally got close enough to the man to catch his eyes. You made eye contact and his words trailed off as the side of his mouth quirked up on one side.

“Excuse me,” He excused himself and without breaking eye contact made it to you in quick strides.

“ To what do I owe the pleasure of your gilded visage this evening.” His hand found its way to the curve of your waist and he gripped the flesh there. His eyes darkened as his gaze trailed up and down your body.

“What? This old thing?” You shot back, “I’ve had this forever.”

“Are you sure it had nothing to do with catching a certain someone’s eye?” He questioned, hidden behind his suave demeanor and cocky smile you could see the vulnerability in his eyes like maybe he thought you were dressed like this for someone else.

“Maybe, I’ve had my eyes on this one man for a while” You bit your lip and looked up at him through your eyelashes hoping that he’d latch onto the bait you gave him.

He hummed, “Oh really? And what’s this man like?” he asked

“Hmmm, well, he’s smart and funny and I hear he has a proclivity for iron suits.” With that you lifted your head and titled it backward, elongating your neck and pushing your chest towards him.

When Tony heard those words, he stopped holding himself back, his other hand landed on your back and pulled you even closer to him. Your lips met in a flurry of passion and a bit of lust on each side. His lips danced on your own and you could feel the scratch from his signature goatee on your cheek.

You pulled back when your lungs began to scream for air.

“Jesus christ you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” He mumbled still only inches from your lips.

“Oh yeah?” you teased back pulling away slightly

He huffed out a laugh and moved his lips to the slant of your neck.

“Yes,” He practically growled into the skin there.

“You think You can handle me Stark?” you asked, slowly pulling him back towards the elevator, you knew it would probably make headlines the next day, at the very least the mention of Tony Stark abandoning his party for the sake of taking you to bed would be trending for the next day.

“For You? I’d handle anything,” he told you, sincerity leaking into his words.

“And don’t forget it.” You pulled him into another kiss as the elevator doors closed.

#tony stark x you #tony stark x reader #plus size reader #tony stark x plus size reader #fluff #tony stark #plus size!reader

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hwanghyunjinenthusiast · 1 year ago

Note

Well, the little drabble was very much inspired by what I read on your blog lately, so it’s not exactly coincidence :D

But the threesome with priest Hyunjin and demon Minho?? You spent one (1) (hellishly good) night with the demon and you just can’t get him out of your head. You go to church next Sunday and try to pretend that nothing happened, but whenever your priest crush comes close to you, you feel like something inside of you is burning up and you can’t decide if it’s or bad. You decide to confess about it, ridding yourself of sin through honesty and prayer. And it works, it truly does. Until you do unholy things with the most holy being known to you.

Honestly you can’t even process what happened until a day or two after you’ve slept together in the most wholesome and loving way. It somehow just… happened? One minute you were just talking, sharing another one of your deep and meaningful conversations, and the next minute you’re both naked in a chamber behind the altar, limbs entangled and desperately trying to keep quiet. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Maybe it was your destiny to be together, but you surely couldn’t have been meant to taint that sweet, pure soul. It makes you feel sinful. Almost like that night you spent with… could it be? Are there parallels?

Desperate for answers and torn between regret and lust you find yourself in your room again, candles lit again, book open again. This time you know what to expect and when Minho shows up you don’t waste a second to utter his name. But this night is different, he can feel it. Where there was curiosity and desperation last time, this time there’s unrest and confusion. „What’s wrong, kitten?“ he asks, „what’s got you so worked up?“

„Minho, is it- could it- might there- am I a demon?“ Actually getting that words out was way harder than you‘d like to admit, and hearing the demon in front of you chuckle, no, laugh at them made you feel embarrassed to your core. „And what exactly makes you think that, little kitten? Got yourself some newfound appetite? That’s all but normal after a night with me“ The cockiness in his voice is unmistakable, and you would roll your eyes at that if you didn’t have more important matters swirling around your brain. „Well, no, it’s not that. At least I don’t think it is. I mean, maybe, kinda? But probably not in the way you think!“ You try to formulate a coherent reply, but get cut off in between: „Kitten, I couldn’t care less if you decide to whore around. I’m bound to you for tonight and tonight only. Not the other way around, no strings attached, no „I‘ll call you, I promise!“ Remember? It’s just a good fuck, nothing more, nothing less.“ His brazy words still catch you off guard, although this is the second night you hear him talk like that, with no shame and brutally honest. „No, it’s not that. I actually haven’t actually been with anyone since our night together, except for…“ He senses your hesitation and can feel that this is what’s actually burning on your tongue. „Go on, kitten, spit it out. You know I won’t judge“ His little encouragement is all you need, and so you finally blurt out what’s been plaguing your mind for far too long now.

„This priest in training, Hyunjin. I‘ve known him for a while now, he’s training at my local ministry, and I feel like we’re sharing such a special connection. We can talk for hours about whatever comes to our minds, I feel so safe with him and I think he feels safe with me as well, he showed me all the little details and secrets of our church, and one night, during the blue moon, he invited me up to the tower and prepared a little picnic for us both to watch the night sky and he drew me and he said he did it in the style of the coloured windows in the church because he thinks I‘m his angel and I should be worshipped like the saints they put in those windows. But, like, he’s a priest in training, so there can never be anything more than that, right? So I thought I shouldn’t get my hopes up, just thinking of it as a precious friendship, until a couple of days ago… we fucked. Not like you and I though, this was so different! It felt more like actually making love to each other, it was so sweet and sensual and when we came together, I felt like the whole room lit up and there were angels singing somewhere nearby. The last one could just be because we did in the church though.“

Minho’s face didn’t change much throughout your whole rant, containing perfectly that look of mostly disinterest with the slightest hint of amusement. Only towards the end you can observe a shift in his features, disinterest dwindling away as curiosity now mixes with the amusement. „And what exactly about that makes you feel like a demon, kitten? There’s nothing unusual about priests fucking around, trust me, I know. They’re still human after all, not always able to resist the urges“ His words probably shock you more than they should, but you’re still taken aback by his Nonchalance. „I know, I know! But this one… I think he’s different. And I can’t help but feel like I‘ve corrupted him in some way and I don’t want him to get any negative repercussions out of that… but what on earth could be able to corrupt such a pure soul as his, if not a powerful demonic force? So… am I a demon?“

Minho sighs. „Kitten… I can assure you that demonic powers are not transferable via dick. Or mouth, or any other body part or fluid or anything of that sort. But since you really seem to worry about this… issue, how about you bring me to him and I check? If there’s been demonic force used on him, I‘ll be able to tell. Would that help you, kitten, hm? Is that what you desire?“ You quickly nod your head and grab your phone, telling Hyunjin that you’re coming over with a… friend? Acquaintance? Someone and ask him to wait at your place (a special tree on the cemetery that hides you from view and has been there longer and seen more than you two could ever imagine) for your arrival.

And that’s how you end up standing underneath that tree that holds so many of your special memories, introducing your demon one night stand to your priest in training love. You don’t exactly know what you‘ve expected from a meeting between those two, but it definitely wasn’t this type of civility. „Hello, I’m brother Hyunjin, priest in training here at the ministry. And you are?“ He extends his hand, which Minho gladly takes and shakes courtly. „Lee Minho, sex demon summoned and bound for tonight to this kitten) He untangles his hand and swiftly points at you. Hyunjin is almost ready to step back and just continue with his day, until he finally processes what has just been said and double takes. „A~ a~ a sex demon?“ he brabbles, pupils blown wide and voice trembling with fear. „Don’t fret about it, I won‘t harm you unless you want me to. That is, of course, if you do want me…“!The demon‘s voice gets lost in the dark and Hyunjin immediately begins to stammer around. „Wh~ what? Me? No! That can’t be! I- I‘d never~ that is of course, maybe not never, just, not right now? Not if I have my wonderful deity right by my side to worship and praise and love. I won’t need more than that. Although I’m curious, I‘m certain that nothing compares to our bond“ You can feel your heart swell at his words, a warm and fuzzy feeling taking over you as you feel your worries subside. After all, Minho would’ve said something already if he found demonic force, wouldn’t he? „Dumb priest“ he mutters instead, „always so restrictive in your thinking. Why don’t we all three have a little fun, show each other some new tricks and broaden our horizons. What do you think?“ The demonic proposal actually sounds enticing and you can’t help but feel intrigued by it. But nothing would be done without the consent of your very personal spiritual guardian. So you look to him, eyes questioning silently, and you hear him ask hesitantly: „But~ but you’re a demon? Won‘t I go to hell for that?“ Again Minho only chuckles, making shivers run down your spine. „Not until your love for me overpowers your love for God. They’re not a prude, you know, just want to feel like the best. Say your prayers after this honestly and you‘re good.“ And with the fire in the demon‘s eyes, and the passion in yours, that’s all the priest needs to convince him into the most sinful yet enjoyable night ever to be experienced.

It’s 4 am and I need to sleep.

~🤍 (I‘d be elated if you tagged me like that)

This was such a visceral attack at 11 a.m

CW: blasphemy, sacrilege, religion within a sexual context etc

I want you to know I laughed out loud at the line where he tells Reader that being a demon isn't transferable through his dick. You're a very good writer btw. I'm not sure I mentioned that in my answer to your previous ask.

The juxtaposition of having such intimate loving sex with priest Hyunjin while committing sacrilege is so dizzying. It's a bit cliché but, being so enamoured with one another that you can't help but, make love right there and then on the alter? Crazy. Insane.

Poor baby wouldn't know how to handle himself around both you and demon Minho though. He's still reeling from the fact that he's not a virgin and that he lost it to the woman he's helplessly in love with. Now you show up with a demon? That you've had sex with? Not only that but, the two of you are offering yourselves up on a silver platter for him? He's already getting hard in his robes at the mere thought. Minho can probably tell and tries not tease him too much about it.

Minho and Reader enabling all of his desires. Telling him it's fine to let go, while you take him into your mouth and Minho kisses him. Telling it's all okay, it's good. He deserves to feel good. Not the he needs much convincing when you feel so wet and tight around him when you sink down onto him and, Minho touches his chest, playing with his nipples while you begin to ride him.

#..............why would you tempt me like this?#good lord now this hyunho is giving me brain worms #🤍#ask #rj's inbox #hyunjin hard thoughts #minho hard thoughts #stray kids hard thoughts #oh also let me know if you'd want me to add you to an anon list!!#no pressure of course and I'm more than happy to keep talking to you this way #I'm just asking for admin purposes lol so i know whether i should finally stop procrastinating an anon list lmao

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stainedvenom · 8 months ago

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A Jewel's Facets, Part 1

Duke sat by himself on a corner bench of the Aerowing, wrapped in a blanket that he had found in storage, as the team flew back to Anaheim from the clock tower in Fredonia. No one had talked to him in a while, but he preferred it that way. He had plenty of time to think,

Stealing two out of four of the biggest jewels with Falcone had brought back adrenaline that he hadn't experienced since before the Invasion back home. The rush of jewel heists from the old days were vastly different from the ones he got from fights with Draganaus and his cronies, or even the villian of the week, such as Dr. Droid.

Despite the fact that he had meant to con Falcone into finding out why he had been working for Dragaunus, he had actually enjoyed some aspects of the hunt for the jewels.

And for that, Duke felt ashamed of himself.

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Nosedive looked at the gray, older drake, who looked miserable and older than the teen had ever seen. He couldn't help himself from wondering about the turn of events from the last few days. He had known from the start that Duke wasn't turning traitor, Falcone was the only factor in the 'being locked in a vault' situation.

Why doesn't he just tell them what we were doing the other night before all this happened? Nosedive wondered. Then again, maybe the Invocation of Hope is a little more sacred to the Brotherhood than it is to the general public on Puckworld. I could see that.

The teen looked at the others, noting that they all seemed to be off in their own world with the exception of Wildwing, as he was piloting. Turning his attention back to Duke, something caught his attention that hadn't before; Duke seemed to be favoring his left side.

Worried for his teammate, Nosedive unbuckled from his seat and walked over to his friend. "Hey old timer," he greeted, taking a seat next to the ex-bandit. "Doing all right?"

Duke was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard his name called. Looking up, he saw that Nosedive was taking a seat next to him. "Been better kid," he answered, pulling the blanket wrapped around him tighter, attempting to hide the hand that was pressed to his left side. When he saw the teen's face though, he managed a grin. "Relax Dive, I'm fine."

"But you don't look fine. And are you gonna tell them-"

"No, and you aren't eith'ah. Or I would pref'ah ya don't."

The teen nodded. "Fine, chill. But really, are you okay?"

"Just some bumps and bruises kid. I got stuck und'ah some rubble, it wasn't fun."

Nosedive just eyed him skeptically.

Duke took his hand from his side, pulling it out from under the blanket and poked Nosedive. "Don't worry 'bout me kid, I'll be all right."

"...there's blood on your hand."

Puzzled, Duke took a look at his gloved, right hand. How on Puckworld did that happen? the ex-thief thought, confused. He knew his side was hurting, but he hadn't felt anythi-

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Nosedive watched as a confused look emerged on the older one's face. "Duke?"

The gray drake wobbled, then started to fall forward. The teenager managed to catch Duke before he fell to the floor, panicking. Doing the only thing he knew to do, Nosedive tried to get him laid out on the floor and call for the one duck he knew who could help.

"TANYA!"

The rest of the team looked towards the back. "What's going on back there?" Wilding asked from the pilot seat.

"Duke just passed out!"

Tanya immediately unbuckled, as did Grin, before rushing to the back of the Aerowing. As she began to assess the situation, Wildwing let Mallory take over pilot's seat before heading towards the back. "What happened?!" he demanded.

Throwing the blanket off that Duke had been using, Tanya began assessing the injuries that were visible. "Grin, grab the First Aid Kit, we need to stop the bleeding." The larger drake went to grab it and came back with the kit open for Tanya's use.

"It looks like there's a lot of wounds that need st-st-sti...to be sewn up," the tech started, grabbing some gauze and pressing the first set to Duke's side. That managed to emit a groan from the elder drake, but he remained unconscious. "Grin, set him up so I can wrap these bandages. Nosedive, grab some more gauze and tape, we'll tape up the other spots until we get back to the Pond."

The two did as instructed, Tanya getting to work on putting some bandages around the worst of what appeared to be. "How did we not notice anything?" asked Nosedive, working on taping up some gauze on Duke's shoulder.

"It's amazing at what adrenaline will do in high stress situations," Tanya stated. "He may not have even felt any of the injuries and was going purely on that. Adrenaline crashes set in once the body gets to a stopping point."

"We need to get back fast then if his injuries are worse than what we can tell now," Wildwing stated, going back to the front and reprogramming the Aerowing. "There, we should be back in less than an hour."

"Will he be all right until then?" Mallory asked, listening in on what was occurring in the background, but having to stay at the pilot's seat.

"Just have to watch him," Tanya answered, finishing off the tying of bandages. Satisfied with the bleeding injuries having been taken care of, she grabbed the blanket that had originally been discarded and covered the older drake with it. "Once we get back, someone will have to grab a gurney from the hanger and we'll get him to the Infirmary."

Grin helped Nosedive lay the older drake back down. "For now, we meditate upon the matter," Grin stated.

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Duke woke up slowly, feeling disoriented. Opening his good eye a little, he looked up, things looking strange. What the puck happened?

A far-off voice came into being, and he tried to hear the speech. "-do you know where you are?"

"...Aerowing...?"he looked at the speaker, a yellow plumed hen with purple glasses and outfit. "What happened?"

Tanya was thoroughly confused as Duke spoke in a language she had not heard before. Taking the penlight out of her breast pocket, she shined it on his eye quickly to check for any signs of brain damage. His pupil appeared normal, so maybe just he was disoriented?

"O que aconteceu? Onde está o Barão?" Duke asked, slowly speaking. Tanya was at a loss when Nosedive reappeared, his attention on Duke.

"He's asking what happened and were someone is," the teen informed her. "He knows that he's on the Aerowing, but I think he's misremembering."

"Keep talking to him then, I'm going to try and figure this out," Tanya said. She would figure out later why Nosedive could somehow understand the older drake.

"Duke, do you know who I am?"

The older drake studied the younger drake in front of him. Wasn't there a kid that recently escaped from one of the camps to help?

"...can't remember your name right now," he answered. "...'m sorry."

"It's okay, don't worry," the other one told him. "You said you wanted to know where Baron was?" When Duke nodded, the younger one tried to give him a smile. "He's waiting back at the base. He knows you're coming back."

"...why didn't he-"

"Come with us? You told him to stay in case something happened."

Yeah, that sounded like something Duke would order a guild member to do, even if it was his mentor.

"Kid...I don't feel so good..."

"I know. But we'll be back soon-"

"I mean like I'm gonna be sick-"

Duke started gagging. He felt someone roll him onto his side as he continued to dry-heave, then eventually lost the battle as anything that was in his stomach emptied itself.

The last thing he heard was someone yelling at "Wildwing".

#ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #mighty ducks: the animated series #duke l'orange #nosedive flashblade #wildwing flashblade #tanya vanderflock #mallory mcmallard #grin hardwing #whump #post battle

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ohimsummer · 2 years ago

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18+, minors dni please

content: roommate!jean x reader, ft. connie and eren, flirty y/n, suggestive

a/n:kinda self indulgent lol n this turned out way longer than i meant it to, anyway daydreaming about teasing jean sighhh

After answering their ad in search of a roommate, it only took you a week to move in with the three men. They were cordial enough, welcoming you into the spacious apartment with warm smiles and open arms. It was clear as day that Connie and Eren were enamored with you, but it was the third one, Jean, that caught your attention. To say he was handsome was an understatement. The man towered over your smaller figure and wore a charming grin, hair carelessly brushed back and hints of stubble adorning his face. The sight of him was tantalizing.

It started with light touches on his arm and brushing by despite there being plenty of room for you to get past him. You could tell that your actions initially left him confused of your intentions and, to be honest, you were being timid in your pursuit of him. It wasn’t your aim to make him uncomfortable, and a few days into your teasing you almost trashed the idea entirely. The thought of apologizing to him flooded your mind that day, only to be interrupted by Eren’s call from the kitchen. You pass Jean in the hallway on the way there and you two make eye contact. A heat plays across your cheeks as you watch him look you up and down before his tongue darts across his lips. The interaction only lasts a few seconds at most, but the remembrance of it that night has the nastiest images plaguing your head as you imagine it’s Jean’s fingers instead of your own.

As the weeks go by, you only get more and more bold in your teasing. Jean is more than interested in playing this little game of yours. Low whispers in your ear asking you the most menial things, fingers discreetly toying with strands of your hair while you watch Eren and Connie play video games, hands on your waist as he squeezes by you. He comes up behind you one day as you’re absentmindedly cutting fruit in the kitchen, one hand finding a place on your hips as the other reaches for a cabinet far out of your reach. The hardness of his cock presses firm against your ass, and you give your bottom a wiggle in response. A grunt slips from his mouth, a sound he tries to disguise as a frustrated groan because he ‘can’t get the thing he’s reaching for’. You know better; Jean’s the tallest one in the apartment, he can reach most things easy. You win the game that day, Jean fleeing back to his room to handle the aching problem in his pants. Connie raises his eyebrows at you as Jean shoves past him, but you merely give a shrug of your shoulders as you try and hide your grin.

Things eventually reach a turning point on a day when you’re relentless in your teasing. Those light touches on Jean’s bicep have evolved into playing with his hair, tugging belt loops for his attention, even responding to him with innuendos that are, of course, innocent in nature, why wouldn’t they be? “I think you just have a dirty mind,” you toy with him and prance over to the fridge, bending over to fetch something from the bottom drawer. He glosses over your body as you ramble around, eyes eventually landing on your ass clad in the tiniest pink shorts he’s ever seen. The bottom of your ass is practically falling out of them. Jean’s cock strains against his sweatpants. He wanted to rip the fabric off and fuck that confidence right out of you, but not if Eren and Connie would be right down the hallway. And you knew it. You were using their presence as protection to be absolutely insufferable.

It was later on in the day that you came to regret your actions. Being a weekday, it means Connie and Eren are due for shifts at work. It’s just your luck that Jean wouldn’t have to work that day. Connie heads off first, leaving you with a wink and a joke as he shuts the door. You turn to glance at your bedroom door only to realize Jean is blocking the entrance to the hallway, large form leaning against the doorframe and arms crossed over his chest as he stares you down. You’re done for.

Eren bids you both farewell and, for the first time since you’ve moved in, you try to ignore Jean. It’s no use. The minute Eren shuts the door, a hand slides under your chin, and Jean forces you to look up at him. He leans down until his lips graze your own. His scent is intoxicating and has you weak in the knees.

“Let’s go.”. he mumbles against your lips. There are nervous thoughts in the back of your head that worry what he might do to you, but you’re too excited to care. You leap up from the couch and rush to throw your arms around him, engulfing him in a kiss as he places hands underneath your thighs to lift you up. It’s moments before you two make it to his room and he presses you into the mattress, hard-on grinding against your core. Jean hooks his fingers into the waistband of your velvet shorts and tugs them off, kisses and bitemarks littering all over your neck. "Let's see if you can live up to all the fucking teasing, huh, babe?”

part 2 :)

#jean x reader #jean x reader smut #jean kirstein smut #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirschtein x you #jean smut #jean kirschtein smut #jean kirstein imagine #jean kirschstein imagine #aot smut #aot x reader #snk x reader #snk smut

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ladystoneboobs · 3 years ago

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Family, Duty, (Dis)Honor

so, something i've put way too much thought into is the parallels between two of my fave westerosi fams, houses tully and lannister. it's to the point that i wonder how much was even intentional. like catelyn/cersei are definitely meant as foils and probably jaime/brynden too in their interactions. but was it intentional that every single tully-named* member of the present main line can be considered a foil/mirror with one of the main lannisters? because imho they all can be.

consider:

hoster tully/tywin lannister

both are great lords whose eldest grandsons are rival teenage kings in the war of 5 kings. king robb saved hoster and his castle through his first victories in battle and hoster expressed pride in his most lucid scene on his sickbed. meanwhile king joffrey frustrated his grandfather and tywin felt he was winning joff's war for him.

[Catelyn, to Hoster:] [...] “Riverrun is free again, Father."

Lord Hoster smiled. "I saw. Last night, when it began, I told them … had to see. They carried me to the gatehouse … watched from the battlements. Ah, that was beautiful … the torches came in a wave, I could hear the cries floating across the river … sweet cries … when that siege tower went up, gods … would have died then, and glad, if only I could have seen you children first. Was it your boy who did it? Was it your Robb?"

"Yes," Catelyn said, fiercely proud. -Catelyn XI, aGoT

[Tywin, to Joffrey:] “Aerys also felt the need to remind men that he was king. [...] And any man who must say ‘I am the king’ is no true king at all. Aerys never understood that, but you will. When I’ve won your war for you, we will restore the king’s peace and the king’s justice.” -Tyrion VI, aSoS

both lords are compared to kings on the day of their funerals. (although in hoster’s case it’s flattery from a near-stranger newly married into the family, while tywin’s praise came from a close and longtime lannister toady after he had served as power behind the throne to multiple kings.)

[Queen Jeyne, to Cat:]"Lord Hoster looked as noble as a king, my lady," murmured Jeyne. -Catelyn IV, aSoS

[Pycelle, to Jaime:]"I have served six kings, but here before us lies the greatest man I ever knew. Lord Tywin wore no crown, yet he was all a king should be." -Jaime I, aFfC

both lords lost their wives in chirdbirth and chose never to remarry, despite having only one surviving son and only one able-bodied son, respectively. hoster's lack of a second marriage to try for another son was likely just as much due to acceptance of catelyn as heiress presumptive after edmure as due to his love for his wife. while tywin's prolonged unmarried status even after his least favorite child became his legal heir could only have been due to his love for joanna and his stubborn refusal to accept jaime's status in the kingsguard.

both lords had brothers who recalled their love for their dead wives and it’s believed they were never the same after losing their ladies.

[Catelyn:]"[...]Once he called me by Mother's name."

"He misses her still," Ser Brynden answered.

.... Lady Minisa Tully had died in childbed, trying to give Lord Hoster a second son. The baby had perished with her, and afterward some of the life had gone out of Father. -Catelyn I & IV, aCoK

[....]Lord Tywin seldom spoke of his wife, but Tyrion had heard his uncles talk of the love between them. [...] “He was not the same man after she[Joanna] died, Imp." his Uncle Gery told him once. "The best part of him died with her." -Tyrion V, aSoS

both lords had brothers they had contentious relationships with. though hoster only had the one sibling, while tywin had 4 total and 2 of them remained loyal admirers. gerion left home and disappeared and we know tywin once froze out genna for half a year when she told him a truth he couldn’t handle, but that’s not as long as hoster and brynden’s voluntary estrangement (while still in the same country) of around ~15 years when the series starts. (perhaps this is down to tywin’s control freak tendencies making it impossible for him to let go of any close kin.)

[Catelyn, thinking about Brynden:] He was Lord Hoster's brother, younger by five years, but the two of them had been at war as far back as Catelyn could remember.

[...]The war had not ended until the day she and Lysa had been wed. It was at their wedding feast that Brynden told his brother he was leaving Riverrun to serve Lysa and her new husband, the Lord of the Eyrie. Lord Hoster had not spoken his brother's name since, from what Edmure told her in his infrequent letters. -Catelyn VI, aGoT

[Genna, to Jaime:]That shadow Tywin cast was long and black, and each of them had to struggle to find a little sun. Tygett tried to be his own man, but he could never match your father, and that just made him angrier as the years went by. Gerion made japes. Better to mock the game than to play and lose. -Jaime V, aFfC

[Tywin’s] relations with his brothers Tygett and Gerion were notoriously stormy. -The World of Ice and Fire: The Targaryen Kings: Aerys II

both lords conducted themselves as widowers such that the daughters who idolized them could not believe they ever had a mistress after becoming widowed, despite the evidence of a dead sexual partner right before her eyes in cersei's case.

She could not believe it. Her brother Edmure, yes; it would not have surprised her to learn that Edmure had a dozen natural children. But not her father, not Lord Hoster Tully, never. -Catelyn I, aSoS

My lord father had no use for whores, she thought. After our mother died he never touched a woman. -Cersei I, aFfC

both lords were very ambitious regarding dynastic marriage matches for their offspring, especially their daughters, which led to an attempted match between jaime/lysa.

in both cases their matchmaking ambitions could trump their children's personal feelings or any chance of their happiness: tywin meant to re-marry cersei against her will after she was a widowed mother of 3 and dowager queen in her 30s, while pressuring tyrion--a grown man whose dwarfism made tywin feel he could still treat him like a child--to marry sansa, daughter of an enemy house bound to hate the lannisters, to steal her claim to winterfell, as a replacement for tyrion's rightful claim to casterly rock. after the jaime/lysa match fell through and lysa revealed her pregnancy by petyr baelish, hoster responded by wedding her to jon arryn, a man older than hoster himself.

[Cersei:]"Three children is quite sufficient. I am Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, not a brood mare! The Queen Regent!" [Tywin:]"You are my daughter, and will do as I command." [....]You are the queen, Tyrion wanted to tell her. He ought to be begging leave of you.[....]"Since you stand no taller than a boy, I have found it easy to forget that you are in truth a man grown, with all of a man's baser needs. It is past time you were wed." [....]"You asked me to reward you for your efforts in the battle," Lord Tywin reminded him forcefully. "This is a chance for you, Tyrion, the best you are ever likely to have." -Tyrion III, aSoS

[Catelyn, about Lysa:]Lysa's match with Lord Arryn had been hastily arranged, and Jon was an old man even then, older than their father. -Catelyn I, aSoS

(cont. from above point) their matchmaking ambitions also trumped courtesy to other great houses. tywin was deliberately rude to the unnamed princess of dorne regarding the prospect of a jaime/elia or cersei/oberyn match. and according to tywin, when jaime ruined their plans for a jaime/lysa match, tywin offered tyrion as a replacement and hoster rudely refused. later, hoster basically extorted jon arryn into marrying lysa by threatening to withhold his military forces, even though the ned/cat match should have already tied him to the rebellion, not to mention that one of his own bannermen had been murdered with rickard and brandon stark. (a situation not too unlike walder frey--tywin’s red wedding ally--extorting 2 betrothals from catelyn/robb when he already owed support to his tully overlords or show!tywin forcing a cersei/loras match by threatening to name loras to the kingsguard.)

[Catelyn, to Hoster on his deathbed:]"You made him take her," she whispered. "Lysa was the price Jon Arryn had to pay for the swords and spears of House Tully." Small wonder her sister's marriage had been so loveless. The Arryns were proud, and prickly of their honor. Lord Jon might wed Lysa to bind the Tullys to the cause of the rebellion, and in hopes of a son, but it would have been hard for him to love a woman who came to his bed soiled and unwilling. -Catelyn I, aSoS

[Tywin, to Tyrion:]"I once hoped to marry your brother to Lysa Tully, but Aerys named Jaime to his Kingsguard before the arrangements were complete. When I suggested to Lord Hoster that Lysa might be wed to you instead, he replied that he wanted a whole man for his daughter."

So he wed her to Jon Arryn, who was old enough to be her grandfather. Tyrion was more inclined to be thankful than angry, considering what Lysa Arryn had become.

[Oberyn, to Tyrion, about their parents:]"Years later, on her deathbed, she told me that Lord Tywin had refused us brusquely. His daughter was meant for Prince Rhaegar, he informed her. And when she asked for Jaime, to espouse Elia, he offered her you [at a time when Tyrion was not only a dwarf but a dwarf baby expected to die in infancy] instead." -Tyrion III & X, aSoS

both lords committed violations against their children relating to control over their sex lives. hoster effectively poisoned lysa to abort her pregnancy by petyr baelish without her knowledge, partly to facillitate marrying her to a husband old enough to be her grandfather. this may have been the cause of her later reproductive troubles, resulting in multiple miscarriages and stillbirths. as stated, after giving cersei to a husband who physically and sexually abused her, tywin planned to marry her off again, despite her protests. and tywin also organized a gangrape of tyrion's first wife, tysha, for her crime of being a peasant who dared to consort with a lannister, and ordered tyrion to participate. hoster's response to lysa's first pregnancy was sadly but likely typical of what some other lords would do in his place. and at the least, he felt genuine regret about what he did to lysa on his deathbed, especially because of the (perhaps unexpected) amount of bleeding. otoh, tywin's interest in tyrion's sex life was pathological. he never expressed any regrets and likely went to hell still thinking he was right in all his abuses of his children.

[Tyrion to Bronn:]"[....]Lord Tywin brought my wife in and gave her to his guards. [....] He sat me down in the corner of the barracks and bade me watch, and at the end she had so many silvers the coins were slipping through her fingers and rolling on the floor, she . . . " The smoke was stinging his eyes. Tyrion cleared his throat and turned away from the fire, to gaze out into darkness. "Lord Tywin had me go last," he said in a quiet voice. "And he gave me a gold coin to pay her, because I was a Lannister, and worth more." -Tyrion VI, aGoT

[Hoster on his deathbed, to Cat, thinking she was Lysa:] "That stripling . . . wretched boy . . . not speak that name to me, your duty . . . your mother, she would . . . " Lord Hoster cried as a spasm of pain washed over him. "Oh, gods forgive me, forgive me, forgive me.” [....]

"Forgive me . . . the blood . . . oh, please . . . “[...] His hand groped for hers. "You'll have others . . . Sweet babes, and trueborn. [...] Forgive me," he said, so softly she could scarcely hear the words . "Tansy . . . blood . . . the blood . . . gods be kind . . . " -Catelyn V, aCoK, & I, aSoS

both lords punished disobedient vassals with a massacre which killed innocents. however, tywin's destruction of the reynes and tarbecks was on a larger and more unprecedented scale than hoster's destruction of villages in the rebellion. the survival of the freys with their continued oath-wavering is proof enough that hoster was never feared nearly as much as tywin was.

Lord Tywin did not suffer disloyalty in his vassals. He had extinguished the proud Reynes of Castamere and the ancient Tarbecks of Tarbeck Hall root and branch when he was still half a boy. -Tyrion III, aSoS

[Notch, a member of the brotherhood without banners and native riverlander:]"This was Lord Goodbrook's village. When Riverrun declared for Robert, Goodbrook stayed loyal to the king, so Lord Tully came down on him with fire and sword. After the Trident, Goodbrook's son made his peace with Robert and Lord Hoster, but that didn't help the dead none." -Arya VIII, aSoS

and both lords had overmighty vassals who resented them and attempted to replace them, though as above noted, those attempts ended very differently, mostly because the freys had tywin’s backing.

[Jaime:] "Every great lord has unruly bannermen who envy him his place. My father had the Reynes and the Tarbecks, the Tyrells have the Florents, Hoster Tully had Walder Frey." -Jaime VII, aSoS

brynden tully/jaime lannister

both knights were widely known by a sobriquet, to the point that they are addressed that way more often than by their first names alone. the difference is that the blackfish was able to embrace an epithet originally meant as pejorative, while "kingslayer" is almost always meant as an insult and jaime never stopped being hurt when he was called that instead of jaime.

During one of their louder quarrels, when Catelyn was eight, Lord Hoster had called Brynden "the black goat of the Tully flock." Laughing, Brynden had pointed out that the sigil of their house was a leaping trout, so he ought to be a black fish rather than a black goat, and from that day forward he had taken it as his personal emblem. -Catelyn VI, aGoT

He drew up a yard from Ser Brynden, and inclined his head to the older man. "Kingslayer," said Tully.

That he would make that name the first word from his mouth spoke volumes, but Jaime was resolved to keep his temper. "Blackfish," he responded. -Jaime VI, aFfC

both characters are known for their way with words, brynden's on full display in parley with jaime. both men can also be very stubborn about what they want and believe. the blackfish is known for a give-no-fucks attitude and saying what's on his mind. though jaime tries to affect a similar attitude he actually has a hellava lot of fucks to give, and often his spoken words hide his true feelings, sometimes even lying to himself.

brynden was very close to the 3 tully siblings growing up, practically another parent more than an uncle. jaime did not have the same relationship with cersei's 3 kids, though he is their bio father as well as uncle. (i've always thought not coming out of the incest closet was the one area where cersei was the more rational twin, but it is a bit hypocritical to fuck jaime right next to her passed-out drunk husband, and yet think an uncle taking an interest in his twin's children when they all live in the same household would be too dangerous.)

Nonetheless, during all those years of Catelyn's girlhood, it had been Brynden the Blackfish to whom Lord Hoster's children had run with their tears and their tales, when Father was too busy and Mother too ill. Catelyn, Lysa, Edmure … and yes, even Petyr Baelish, their father's ward … he had listened to them all patiently, as he listened now, laughing at their triumphs and sympathizing with their childish misfortunes. -Catlelyn VI, aGoT

[Jaime, to Cersei:]"He[Tommen] is my seed. He's never called me Father. No more than Joffrey ever did. You warned me a thousand times never to show any undue interest in them." -Jaime IX, aSoS

both men refused the dynastic matches made for them by their lords (elder brother and father, respectively) and still refused to marry anyone else years later. however, while jaime's reasoning in this matter is clear, we are given no specific reason for the blackfish's chosen bachelorhood.

[Hoster, to Cat:]"I told him . . . commanded him. Marry! I was his lord. He knows. My right, to make his match. A good match. A Redwyne. Old House. Sweet girl, pretty . . . freckles . . . Bethany, yes. .... [...] Spit on the girl. The Redwynes. Spit on me. His lord, his brother . . . that Blackfish. I had other offers. Lord Bracken's girl. Walder Frey . . . any of three, he said . . . Has he wed? Anyone? Anyone?" -Catelyn XI, aGoT

Cersei took him aside and whispered that Lord Tywin meant to marry him to Lysa Tully, had gone so far as to invite Lord Hoster to the city to discuss dower. But if Jaime took the white, he could be near her always.

[Tywin, to Jaime:][...]”You are the heir to Casterly Rock. That is where you should be. .... And it is past time you were wed. [....]"

"NO!" Jaime had heard all that he could stand. -Jaime II & VII, aSoS

both knights made their reputations in rebellions which ended in the death of kings. jaime is infamous for his murder of the mad king during robert's rebellion, while the blackfish is famed for his feats in the war of the ninepenny kings, the last blackfyre rebellion, which saw the death of the last blackfyre pretender. though the would-be king maelys the monstrous was killed by another of jaime's foils, barristan selmy, not brynden. both men are known as formidable fighters and jaime thought that single combat between them would have been quite a fight, if he still had both hands.

.... at that age, no girl interested Jaime half so much as Hoster's famous brother, who had won renown fighting the Ninepenny Kings upon the Stepstones. -Jaime V, aFfC

jaime's served in the kingsguard for over half his life (which strained his relationship with his father), though he broke his oath to aerys through kingslaying and later committed treason against robert with cersei, fully willing to kill him too if the need arose. brynden served his kin in house arryn loyally for ~15 years as knight of the bloody gate, guarding the border of the vale (which put further distance in his relationship with hoster), until he left the post to do his duty to house tully defending riverrun. jaime refused to quit the kingsguard when his maiming gave him an out, and tywin demanded he do his "duty" to house lannister. but he was in effect still serving his most immediate family as the king is his own nephew-son and the queen mother is his twin sister.

both knights serve royal nephews, as grand-uncle and uncle-father, respectively. when they meet at the 2nd siege of riverrun, jaime is under orders from the queen and acting in the name of his 2nd kingly nephew-son, while brynden is still acting in the name of his dead kingly grandnephew under orders to protect his queen. both of them recently lost a teenage royal nephew when each of their kings was murdered at a wedding, and each knightly uncle was miles away during the fatal feast.

neither knight was ever head of their house, but they were both very important war commanders in the riverlands campaigns. brynden was made warden of the southern marches (of the northern kingdom) by robb before the red wedding, holding the tully domains in the place of his liege edmure and in the name of his king, in which capacity he held riverrun under siege until jaime forced edmure to surrender. jaime was twice sent to conquer the riverlands, in the name of his king(s), and on the orders of his liege(s), tywin and cersei.

related to the above, brynden tells jaime that the boredom of the siege was the only reason he met him in their failed parley, with siege-based boredom being the same factor brynden counted on to lure jaime into the trap he planned with robb. despite the dullness of sieges and the fact that brynden would be more likely to defeat one-handed jaime, jaime cannot bait him into a fight the way he himself was tricked during the first siege. even after the surrender, when jaime may have thought he’d avenged his own prior defeat there, he finds out instead that brynden has escaped and will not be captured like jaime was.

both knights used harshly pragmatic tactics in the 2nd siege of riverrun. brynden expelled all “useless mouths” from riverrun and picked the land bare for miles around. jaime achieved a bloodless surrender of riverrun only by making horrific threats to edmure. the difference is jaime’s tactics were more unconventional by the “rules” of war and also more melodramatic. (shooting a baby from a trebuchet has to be one of the most needlessly ott ideas for infanticide possible and could only come from a drama queen like jaime.)

jaime claimed to brynden that it should not matter how robb stark died, yet it seemed he shared brynden's opinion on royally-sanctioned murders when describing the details of rickard’s and brandon's deaths to cat.

"I would have slain Robb Stark in the Whispering Wood, if I could have reached him. Some fools got in my way. Does it matter how the boy perished? He's no less dead, and his kingdom died when he did." -Jaime VI, aFfC

[Jaime:]"[...]Answer me this, Lady Stark-did your Ned ever tell you the manner of his father's death? Or his brother's? [....] After, Gerold Hightower himself took me aside and said to me, 'You swore a vow to guard the king, not to judge him.' "

[....]Catelyn could taste bile at the back of her throat. The story was so hideous she suspected it had to be true. -Catelyn VII, aCoK

catelyn tully/cersei lannister

lysa tully/cersei lannister

both ladies had secret forbidden loves from childhood who were their first kiss, first sexual experience, and impregnated them. lysa's love was her foster brother, petyr baelish (an inappropriate match because of his lower noble status), who sired her first pregnancy, which was aborted by her father. cersei's lover is an actual blood brother, her twin, jaime, who fathered all three of her children when their affair continued into her marriage.

[Catelyn, about her own and Lysa’s first kisses with Petyr:]How young they all had been—she no older than Sansa, Lysa younger than Arya, and Petyr younger still, yet eager. The girls had traded him between them, serious and giggling by turns. [....] "He tried to put his tongue in my mouth," Catelyn had confessed to her sister afterward, when they were alone. "He did with me too," Lysa had whispered, shy and breathless. "I liked it." -Catelyn XI, aGoT

[Jaime, about Cersei:]"I can't remember when we first began to kiss. It was innocent at first. Until it wasn't." -Jaime VII, aFfC

both ladies had early sexual experiences where their partner used the name of the woman he actually wanted to be with. for lysa this was her first time with petyr (when he was too drunk to know what was going on), who preferred her sister, catelyn. for cersei, it was her wedding night with robert (who was also drunk but could have at least been aware he'd just been married), who she did not love and who never got over his dead betrothed, lyanna stark.

[Lysa, to Sansa:]"That was the night I stole up to his bed to give him comfort. I bled, but it was the sweetest hurt. He told me he loved me then, but he called me Cat, just before he fell back to sleep." -Sansa VII, aSoS

[Cersei, to Ned:]"The night of our wedding feast, the first time we shared a bed, he called me by your sister's name. He was on top of me, in me, stinking of wine, and he whispered Lyanna." -Eddard XII, aGoT

both ladies were originally intended by their fathers for betrothals which fell through, lysa for handsome knight jaime and cersei for handsome prince rhaegar. instead, they were given as wives to other men as a result of events in robert's rebellion, stuck in unhappy and loveless marriages. lysa was disgusted by her husband, jon arryn, because he was old and missing half his teeth. cersei was disgusted by her husband, king robert, because he was fat and persistently drunk.

[Lysa, to Sansa:]"Jon Arryn was no dwarf, but he was old. .... Half his teeth were gone, and his breath smelled like bad cheese. I cannot abide a man with foul breath. Petyr's breath is always fresh . . . " -Sansa VI, aSoS

[Cersei, recalling sex with Robert:]The wrong man came back from the Trident, the queen would sometimes think as he was plowing her. In the first few years, when he mounted her more often, she would close her eyes and pretend that he was Rhaegar. She could not pretend that he was Jaime; he was too different, too unfamiliar. Even the smell of him was wrong. -Cersei VII, aFfC

both ladies eventually killed their unwanted husbands using wine, for reasons relating to their lovers and their children. lysa poisoned her husband on petyr's advice, motivated by a wish to stop him from sending their son to dragonstone, with a cover story blaming the lannisters for his murder. cersei had her cousin give robert strengthened wine during a hunt so he would be mortally injured in his fight with a boar. she wanted to stop him being told that her children were really jaime's, and the crime was covered up as a hunting accident.

[Lysa, to Petyr:]"[....] You told me to put the tears[of Lys poison] in Jon's wine, and I did. For Robert, and for us! And I wrote Catelyn and told her the Lannisters had killed my lord husband, just as you said." -Sansa VII, aSoS

[Varys, to Ned:]"Oh, indeed. Cersei gave him[Lancel] the wineskins, and told him it was Robert's favorite vintage." The eunuch shrugged. "A hunter lives a perilous life. If the boar had not done for Robert, it would have been a fall from a horse, the bite of a wood adder, an arrow gone astray . . . the forest is the abattoir of the gods. ...." -Eddard XV, aGoT

both ladies then donned performative mourning dress for their murdered husbands. though lysa made use of her dead husband’s own sigil, and cersei used the colors and gemstone associated with rhaegar targaryen, robert’s enemy. (in contrast, mourning dress is never mentioned regarding catelyn, genuinely mourning the husband she loved and did not murder.)

The Lady Lysa wore black silk, with the moon-and-falcon sewn on her breast in pearls. Since she did not look the sort to join the Night's Watch, Tyrion could only imagine that she had decided mourning clothes were appropriate garb for a confession. -Tyrion V, aGoT

All of them were clad in black, she realized with a feeling of dread. Mourning clothes ...

The queen wore a high-collared black silk gown, with a hundred dark red rubies sewn into her bodice, covering her from neck to bosom. They were cut in the shape of teardrops, as if the queen were weeping blood. -Sansa IV, aGoT

both ladies could be quite possessive about their secret lovers, refusing to believe the men could have their attentions turned on another woman (or girl, in sansa's case), despite any evidence to the contrary.

[Lysa, to Sansa:]"[....]You think you can have any man you want because you're young and beautiful. [.... ]But you are mistaken if you think big eyes and strumpet's smiles will win you Petyr. He is mine." She rose to her feet. "They all tried to take him from me. My lord father, my husband, your mother . . . Catelyn most of all...." -Sansa VII, aSoS

[Melara, to Maggy the Frog, in Cersei's memory:]"Will I marry Jaime?" she blurted out. You stupid girl, the queen thought, angry even now.

[Kevan, to Cersei, about Jaime:]"[....]on his way back to Riverrun he left his tail and went off with a woman."

[.... ]Her. The queen remembered the Maid of Tarth, a huge, ugly, shambling thing who dressed in man's mail. Jaime would never abandon me for such a creature. -Cersei VIII, aFfC & I, aDwD

both ladies arranged positions at court for their childhood lovers, so that they could no longer be separated.

[Lysa, to Petyr:]"[....]It was me who got you your first post, who made Jon bring you to court so we could be close to one another." -Sansa VII, aSoS

[Jaime, remembering when Cersei seduced him to join the Kingsguard:]By morning Casterly Rock seemed a small price to pay to be near her always. He gave his consent, and Cersei promised to do the rest. -Jaime II, aSoS

both ladies disliked their lovers’ facial hair.

Littlefinger stroked his chin, where his beard had been before Lysa had asked him to shave it off. -Sansa VII, aSoS

[Cersei, to Jaime:]”I had hoped that by now you would have grown tired of that wretched beard.” -Jaime III, aFfC

both ladies have young sons who inherit their titles before the age of 10. both act as regents for the boys, but each has an uncle who doubts their fitness to rule.

"A woman can rule as wisely as a man," Catelyn said. [about Lysa]

"The right woman can," her uncle [Brynden] said with a sideways glance. "Make no mistake, Cat. Lysa is not you." -Catelyn VI, aGoT

[Kevan, to Cersei:]"[....] and from what I saw of Joffrey, you are as unfit a mother as you are a ruler." -Cersei II, aFfC

both of the said uncles deserted the ladies, so they could return to the family home, refusing to serve their nieces because of choices they disapproved of.

[Brynden, to Cat, about Lysa:]"[....] I asked your sister for leave to take a thousand seasoned men and ride for Riverrun with all haste. Do you know what she told me? The Vale cannot spare a thousand swords, nor even one, Uncle, she said. [....] Well, I told her she could bloody well find herself a new Knight of the Gate. Black fish or no, I am still a Tully. I shall leave for Riverrun by evenfall." -Catelyn VII, aGoT

[Kevan, to Cersei:]"[....]I will remain and serve His Grace . . .

[ . . .] so long as you name me regent as well as Hand and take yourself back to Casterly Rock.

[....]If you will not yield the regency to me, name me your castellan for Casterly Rock and make either Mathis Rowan or Randyll Tarly the Hand of the King. [...] You may make Moon Boy your Hand for all I care. My brother is dead, woman. I am going to take him home.” -Cersei II, aFfC

related to the above two points, both ladies were seen as unfit mothers and had men close to them who wanted to separate them from their sons, as well as a disapproving sibling. in lysa’s case, this was jon arryn, her husband and father of her only living child who was himself old enough to be her (grand)father. later, her sister catelyn expressed a similar sentiment about the boy’s need for fostering. for cersei it was first her own father, tywin, then later even her brother jaime had the same wish. jaime, who is her children’s true father, and thought of cersei as if they were husband and wife. (uncle kevan also shared tywin’s desire to get cersei away from tommen.) the difference is in the boys themselves and how their mothers influenced them. lysa’s smothering and coddling of sweetrobin left him immature for his age and sharing his mother’s fear of outsiders but he is not vicious or sadistic like joffrey was. (and while cersei encouraged joffrey’s arrogance and cruelty, raising him to rule as a tyrant, tommen is little like his brother. cersei is abusive to tommen but to think the only problem with that is an inevitable joffrey 2.0 result ignores all other factors of influence and the children’s own inclinations.)

She[Cat] glanced at her nephew and sighed. "The boy is utterly without discipline. He will never be strong enough to rule unless he is taken away from his mother for a time."

"His lord father agreed with you," said a voice at her elbow. She turned to behold Maester Colemon, a cup of wine in his hand. "He was planning to send the boy to Dragonstone for fostering, you know … oh, but I'm speaking out of turn." -Catelyn VII, aGoT

[Tywin, to Jaime:]”[...] and I want him[Tommen] away from his mother.”

My sweet sister, the deceiver. He would need to find some way to winkle Tommen from her clutches before the boy became another Joffrey. -Jaime VII, aSoS & VII, aFfC

both ladies were resistant to remarriage, relishing the chance to rule on their own. lysa would only agree to marry petyr, the only man she really wanted to be with, who was finally seen as a fit match for her once he was lord of harrenhal. cersei is determined never to re-marry, as jaime is the only man she really wants, but she knows they'd never be allowed to be together publicly. (and unlike lysa, who willingly gave power to petyr once they married, cersei has no wish to relinquish her power to anyone, including jaime.)

[Brynden, to Cat, about Lysa:]"[....] She swears that this time she will choose her lord husband. [....] it seems to me Lysa is only playing at courtship. She enjoys the sport, but I believe your sister intends to rule herself until her boy is old enough to be Lord of the Eyrie in truth as well as name." -Catelyn VI, aGoT

[Cersei, to Jaime:]"[....] I will not have another husband. You are the only man I want in my bed, ever again. [....] I want to be your wife, we belong to each other, but it can never be, Jaime. We are brother and sister." -Jaime IX, aSoS

both ladies' lovers thought they drank too much, and they also gained weight reflected in their gowns, though cersei is in denial about that.

Her aunt's breath smelled of wine. [....]

[Petyr, to Lysa, as she threatened Sansa and spilled his secrets:]"Have you been at the wine again?" -Sansa VII, aSoS

Petyr had given her his late wife's wardrobe, [....] though the great bulk of it was far too large for her; Lady Lysa had grown very stout during her long succession of pregnancies, stillbirths, and miscarriages. -(Sansa II/)Alayne I, aFfC

[Jaime, watching Cersei:]The queen was in her cups, Jaime realized. Of late, Cersei always seemed to have a flagon of wine to hand.[...] -Jaime II, aFfC

[Cersei:][....] her wretched washerwomen had shrunk several of her old gowns so they no longer fit. -Cersei V, aFfC

both ladies are protective of their young sons to the point of paranoia. lysa, because she lost all her other babies and sweetrobin has always been weak and sickly. cersei, because of a witch's prophecy, which supported her prejudice against tyrion, feelings which increased after her firstborn son was killed right in front of her. both mothers are driven by their paranoia to make threats against their own siblings.

[Cat, recalling her parting with Lysa:]She had offered to take Lord Robert with her, to foster him at Winterfell for a few years. The company of other boys would do him good, she had dared to suggest. Lysa's rage had been frightening to behold. "Sister or no," she had replied, "if you try to steal my son, you will leave by the Moon Door." -Catelyn VIII, aGoT

[Cersei, to Tyrion, after capturing Alayaya:]".... You've been scheming against me since the day you came to King's Landing. You sold Myrcella, stole Tommen, and now you plot to have Joff killed. You want him dead so you can rule through Tommen. [....] If Joff should be killed, however, or if Tommen should fall into the hands of our enemies, your little cunt will die more painfully than you can possibly imagine." -Tyrion XII, aCoK

both ladies had an abortion, the only named characters i can think of who did. (as opposed to the more common moon tea, which appears to be more like a fantasy plan b potion) but lysa's was a forced abortion without her knowledge after she told her father she was pregnant by petyr baelish, the boy she loved (who she also raped). cersei chose to abort a pregnancy by her hated husband, robert (who raped her repeatedly), and the man she wanted to be with, jaime, helped her do so.

[Lysa to Petyr:]"I would have given you a son too, but they murdered him with moon tea, with tansy and mint and wormwood, a spoon of honey and a drop of pennyroyal. It wasn't me, I never knew, I only drank what Father gave me . . ." -Sansa VII, aSoS

[Cersei, to Ned:] "Your Robert got me with child once," she said, her voice thick with contempt. "My brother found a woman to cleanse me." -Eddard XII, aGoT

both mothers used a whipping boy for their young sons, a practice which doesn't seem to be common in westeros.

[Lysa, to Sansa:]"[....] We keep a whipping boy for Robert, as is the custom in the Free Cities." -Sansa VII, aSoS

[Cersei, to Tommen:]"If you lie to me, I will have no choice but to send for Pate and have him beaten till he bleeds." Pate was Tommen's whipping boy, as he had been Joffrey's. -Cersei V, aFfC

both ladies threatened sansa's life when she was in their care and was a prospective daughter-in-law. lysa did so after she saw petyr kiss sansa, and cersei did so during the battle of the blackwater, purely out of spite, so that sansa could not outlive joffrey if he were defeated. (and by the time of lysa’s threats, sansa was outwardly living a bastard’s life as petyr’s natural daughter, alayne stone, without the public protection of her true noble name. years earlier, cersei had made an implied threat against her husband’s actual daughter and actual vale bastard, mya stone.)

[Sansa, to Cersei:]"And if the castle should fall?"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Cersei did not wait for a denial.

[...Cersei, to Sansa:]"I do not mean for him[Stannis] to have us alive. [....] So perhaps you had best pray again, Sansa, and for a different outcome. The Starks will have no joy from the fall of House Lannister, I promise you." -Sansa VI, aCoK

Lysa Arryn was frightening her[Sansa] as much as Queen Cersei ever had.

[.... with Lysa at the moon door:]She tried to wrench free, but her aunt's fingers were digging into her arm like claws. Lysa gave her another shove, and Sansa shrieked. Her left foot broke through a crust of snow and knocked it loose. There was nothing in front of her but empty air, and a waycastle six hundred feet below clinging to the side of the mountain.

[...] As they[Lysa and Littlefinger] hugged, Sansa crawled from the Moon Door on hands and knees and wrapped her arms around the nearest pillar. She could feel her heart pounding. There was snow in her hair and her right shoe was missing. It must have fallen. She shuddered, and hugged the pillar tighter. -Sansa VII, aSoS

both ladies are prone to blaming innocents, while denying the faults of the evildoers they love (2nd husband petyr, and elder son joffrey, respectively). lysa blamed sansa and cat for enticing petyr (yet also blamed cat for rejecting him), while denying petyr's forced kissing of sansa. cersei blames tyrion for their mother's death and blames arya for joff's abuse of sansa, while minimizing joffrey's abuses whenever she can.

[Cersei, to Sansa:]"Joffrey will show you no such devotion, I fear. You could thank your sister for that, if she weren't dead. He's never been able to forget that day on the Trident when you saw her shame him, so he shames you in turn." -Sansa IV, aCoK

[Lysa, to Sansa, after Petyr kissed her:]"It was you, just as I thought. You are as wanton as your mother." -Sansa VII, aSoS

both ladies were victims of patriarchal violations against their bodies but also sexually abused others. lysa first had sex with petyr when he was too drunk to consent and thought she was cat, and she refused to realize the truth of what she'd done. cersei hurt her victims intentionally. she twisted tyrion's penis when he was a baby, and years later tried to re-enact her own marital rapes when having sex with her friend taena.

[Lysa, to Sansa, recalling her first night with Petyr:]"[....] he drank until he passed out at the table. Uncle Brynden carried him up to bed before my father could find him like that." -Sansa VII, aSoS

[Cersei, recalling her marital rapes, then later having sex with Taena:]She wondered what it would feel like to suckle on those breasts, to lay the Myrish woman on her back and push her legs apart and use her as a man would use her, the way Robert would use her when the drink was in him, and she was unable to bring him off with hand or mouth. Those had been the worst nights, lying helpless underneath him as he took his pleasure, stinking of wine and grunting like a boar. [....] Cersei pinched the nipple now, pulling on it hard, twisting it between her fingers. The Myrish woman gave a gasp of pain. "You're hurting me." [....] She twisted Taena's other nipple too, pulling until the other woman gasped. "I am the queen. I mean to claim my rights.” -Cersei VII, aFfC

both ladies accused tyrion of murder and tried (and failed) to have him executed. lysa had no previous grudge against tyrion and knew he was innocent of killing her husband because she herself was the murderer. cersei wanted tyrion dead for years, and in her prejudice and paranoia, she genuinely believed he murdered joffrey.

lysa was murdered by her lover, petyr, and cersei's lover, jaime, is a possible murderer of her according to a prophecy. cersei would never expect this of the brother she loves, but lysa never saw petyr's betrayal coming either. unlike petyr, who never actually loved lysa, jaime was devoted to cersei for most of their lives. however, his feelings about her have recently changed, at one point dreaming of knocking out her teeth and at another shooting down ilyn payne’s suggestion of murdering cersei only because of tommen. (which would not be an issue if tommen and myrcella predeceased cersei as prophesied.)

just as cat/cersei both had a son murdered at a wedding, lysa/cersei both have a beloved son who was/is victim of a poisoning plot involving petyr baelish. lysa’s death left her son vulnerable to his stepfather’s plan to slowly kill him through the same drugs used to treat his illness, because petyr is now the boy’s regent through his marriage to lysa. meanwhile joffrey’s death left cersei vulnerable to a downward spiral which could end in her own murder after all her children are dead, if the prophecy comes true. unbeknownst to cersei, the poison used to kill joff was provided by petyr and administered by the tyrells, the boy’s kin through his own short-lived marriage.

edmure tully/jaime lannister

both knights are uncle to their boy-kings through their sister. edmure's kingly nephew robb was a better general than he is and is even seen as a military prodigy, like king robert or daeron the young dragon. edmure tried to respect his much younger king even though he also envied robb's glory. jaime had no respect and little, if any, affection for joffrey, despite joff being his own son as well as his nephew. joffrey was better compared to the mad king than his putative father robert or bio dad-uncle jaime, and even though jaime was captured by robb, he was still considered joff's most valuable warrior.

both knights suffered embarrassing early defeats in the war between their families, partly due to their own rashness and glory-seeking--both men are thought to be emotional and shortsighted. jaime caught edmure before his army was fully gathered to defend riverrun, defeating edmure and holding him hostage. then jaime was defeated and captured by robb after ignoring the loss of his scouts and heedlessly chasing after the blackfish, falling into a trap. in jaime's 2nd riverlands campaign he was more careful with scouting, determined never to be caught offguard again. while edmure's victory at the fords may have been a pyrrhic one, the fact that he won suggests he also learned a lesson and made better use of defensive tactics.

[Ned, learning how Edmure had spread his men to defend all the riverlands]And that may be precisely what Lord Tywin wants, Ned thought to himself, to bleed off strength from Riverrun, goad the boy into scattering his swords. His wife's brother was young, and more gallant than wise. -Eddard XI, aGoT

[...]Jaime Lannister, the gilded knight who men said had never learned to wait at all. "The Kingslayer is restless, and quick to anger," her uncle Brynden had told Robb. And he had wagered their lives and their best hope of victory on the truth of what he said. -Catelyn X, aGoT

related to the above point, both knights unwittingly fucked up a plan of their overlord (robb and tywin) by going off on their own without thinking things through, attacking an enemy whom their commanders hoped to lure into the west instead. edmure wasn’t told of robb’s intent to lure lannister forces back into the westerlands until it was too late (and imho there was no need to keep it secret from him), but he should have realized that keeping tywin away from riverrun and harrenhal would either keep him in the rest of the riverlands indefinitely or send him to king’s landing to defend joffrey instead, either of which would just lead to more problems. edmure was likely blinded by his need to avenge his earlier defeat by jaime and a desire to not be outshined by robb. jaime was blinded by anger over tyrion’s capture when he confronted ned in the street, which left ned too injured to go after gregor clegane himself, which is what beric dondarrion surmised tywin expected and wanted as a way to take ned hostage in return (or kill him). jaime was motivated by his love for tyrion, one of his redeeming qualities, but his fuck-up was both more cruel than edmure’s and more stupid because even with no idea of tywin’s plan, it should have been obvious killing ned could endanger tyrion and killing ned’s men just to punish ned didn’t help the lannister side at all. (show!jaime/show!tywin’s first scene with jaime being lectured about his attack on ned gives me similar vibes to edmure getting chewed out for his “folly of the fords”.)

[Brynden, to Edmure:]"When you stopped Lord Tywin on the Red Fork," said the Blackfish, "you delayed him just long enough for riders out of Bitterbridge to reach him with word of what was happening to the east. Lord Tywin turned his host at once, joined up with Matthis Rowan and Randyll Tarly near the headwaters of the Blackwater, and made a forced march to Tumbler's Falls, where he found Mace Tyrell and two of his sons waiting with a huge host and a fleet of barges. They floated down the river, disembarked half a day's ride from the city, and took Stannis in the rear." -Catelyn II, aSoS

[Harwin, to Arya:]"It was a trap, milady. Lord Tywin sent his Mountain across the Red Fork with fire and sword, hoping to draw your lord father. He planned for Lord Eddard to come west himself to deal with Gregor Clegane. If he had he would have been killed, or taken prisoner and traded for the Imp, who was your lady mother’s captive at the time. Only the Kingslayer never knew Lord Tywin’s plan, and when he heard about his brother’s capture he attacked your father in the streets of King’s Landing. [....] He[Jaime] killed Jory," Harwin agreed, "and your father's leg was broken when his horse fell on him. So Lord Eddard couldn't go west. He sent Lord Beric instead, with twenty of his own men and twenty from Winterfell, me among them. There were others besides. [...] But Gregor was waiting for us at the Mummer's Ford, with men concealed on both banks. [...]” -Arya III, aSoS

edmure tried to defend all his lands and protect all his people, out of a sense of chivalric duty and family honor. when he's not trying to kill children, jaime too tries to protect innocents, also acting from a mix of chivalry and pride.

[Ser Rodrik to Cat, reading Edmure's message:]"[....] He vows to you that he will yield no foot of Tully land without first watering it with Lannister blood."

Hundreds of smallfolk had been admitted to the castle, and allowed to erect crude shelters against the walls. Their children were everywhere underfoot, and the yard teemed with their cows, sheep, and chickens.

[Catelyn:]"Who are all these folk?"

"My people," Edmure answered. "They were afraid." -Catelyn VII, aGoT & V, aCoK

[Tyrion, about Tysha:]"Jaime and I were riding back from Lannisport when we heard a scream, and she came running out into the road with two men dogging her heels, shouting threats. My brother unsheathed his sword and went after them [....] Jaime was all in a lather to hunt down the men. It was not often outlaws dared prey on travelers so near to Casterly Rock, and he took it as an insult." -Tyrion VI, aGoT

[Jaime, about Pia:]One of the Mountain's men had tried to rape the girl at Harrenhal, and had seemed honestly perplexed when Jaime commanded Ilyn Payne to take his head off. .... When Ser Ilyn presented Pia with his head, she had smiled through her ruined teeth. -Jaime IV, aFfC

though jaime is outwardly more confident, both knights are insecure about their reputations (edmure as a “floppy fish” and jaime as both a kingslayer and later a disabled knight) and their father's views of them (especially edmure). however, jaime has the more cold-hearted father while he is still known as tywin’s favorite, and edmure is right in thinking his father favored cat.

[Edmure, to Cat:]"Tell Father I have gone to make him proud. [....] I mean to give him better reason than mere birth." -Catelyn VI, aCoK

Jaime wondered whether Lord Tywin had received the goat's demand for ransom, with or without his rotted hand. What is a swordsman worth without his sword hand? Half the gold in Casterly Rock? Three hundred dragons? Or nothing? His father had never been unduly swayed by sentiment. -Jaime VI, aSoS

both knights had a sister and a sibling of their father's (uncle brynden and aunt genna, respectively) who doubted their abilities to act in their father's place.

Catelyn knew that Edmure had a soft heart; sometimes she thought his head was even softer. She loved him for it, yet still . . .

[Brynden, to Edmure, about his pyrrhic victory at the Stone Mill]"Had it been me I would have flayed you for your stupidity rather than praising this folly of the fords." -Catelyn V, aCoK & II, aSoS

[Cersei, to Kevan:]"[....] Jaime is gallant, but a bit of a fool, let us be frank." -Cersei II, aFfC

[Genna, to Jaime:]"You smile like Gerion and fight like Tyg, and there's some of Kevan in you, else you would not wear that cloak . . . but Tyrion is Tywin's son, not you." -Jaime V, aFfC

both knights had important ceremonial roles at their father's funerals, which left them uncomfortable. edmure had to light his father's funerary boat but was too emotional to shoot the arrow true, dealing with grief and guilt for not visiting hoster more when he was dying. jaime stood guard over tywin's corpse, attempting to keep vigil for a whole week. he felt no grief but more guilt for his role in tywin's death through freeing tyrion. both men didn't want to accept aid with their tasks, though edmure ended up letting brynden shoot the last arrow to light the boat, and jaime left his vigil to comfort tommen.

both men were admirers of (known hot-headed fool) brandon stark, from what they knew of him in their boyhood. edmure served as brandon's squire in his duel with petyr baelish, and jaime wanted catelyn to know that he liked brandon better than ned.

Her brother had acted as Brandon's squire at the duel, and Littlefinger would not forgive that. -Catelyn VII, aGoT

[Jaime, to Cat:]"Brandon was different from his brother, wasn't he? He had blood in his veins instead of cold water. More like me." -Catelyn VII, aCoK

both knights were unmarried at the start of the series, and were resistant to the marriages that were arranged for them. however, edmure just wanted to choose his own bride to avoid an ugly wife and did eventually agree to marry a frey for the sake of robb's war effort, while jaime was motivated by his incest with cersei and still remains unwed.

both men were absent from the wedding receptions where their royal nephews were murdered. jaime wondered how edmure could consummate his marriage while robb and cat were being killed, just as cersei tried to guilt-trip jaime by asking why he couldn’t return home in time to help protect joffrey at his wedding.

"You should have come sooner," she[Cersei, to Jaime] murmured, when he took her in his arms. "Why couldn't you have come sooner, to keep him safe? My boy . . .“

[Jaime, to Edmure]"I am told your wife is pretty. She'd have to be, for you to bed her while your sister and your king were being murdered." -Jaime VII, aSoS & VI, aFfC

both men had important emotional scenes while taking a bath. jaime was sharing a bath with brienne when he revealed the full truth about his kingslaying, a bath which ended in embarrassment when jaime passed out and heard brienne calling him kingslayer. edmure was in a bathtub when jaime threatened him into surrendering riverrun, choosing to play up his reputation for villainy as opposed to the more sympathetic side he displayed in his own bath scene. this traumatic bath also ended with humiliation when jaime called in a singer who happened to be the same man to make a song about edmure's "floppy fish".

the conflict between their families is bookended with each man making choices concerning their children which had major consequences, though jaime’s was a violent choice and edmure’s a peaceful one. the first overt act was jaime pushing bran stark from a tower, to stop him revealing jaime's incestuous relationship and endangering cersei and all their children. later, edmure surrendered riverrun to save his unborn child (among others), after jaime threatened to fling the baby from a trebuchet as soon as it was born--an upward arc which is the opposite trajectory from the straight downward path edmure's nephew bran took when jaime defenestrated him. this surrender can be said to mark the end of the war between the lannisters and stark-tullys, or so jaime hopes.

*(i say tully-named because cat and lysa’s kids are still half-tully as much as they are, but only robb really has a clear, direct lannister foil in joffrey to the same extent as their mothers do with each other.) the outcast of the lannisters, tyrion, does not have a tully counterpart because other than he and lysa both being abused related to their sex lives, i don’t really see any specific comparison points regarding personality and life circumstances as with his siblings and father. anyways, the point is that the golden twins may project all over the tyrell siblings but i see way more parallels between the tully trout and the lannister lions.

#asoiaf meta #house lannister #house tully #tywin lannister #jaime lannister #brynden tully #hoster tully #cersei lannister #catelyn tully #catelyn stark #edmure tully #lysa arryn #this one is super long #longer than i thought #tho i guess i shouldn't be surprised by the length of the lysa/cersei list #Pride of Lions #one fish two fish red fish blue fish #i started this behemoth before posting cat/cersei separately so that's why some quotes are repeated #(c)lsb

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emile-hides · 3 years ago

Text

H*lding H*nds Imagines

I am once again making content for me and me alone because I have an unhealthy obsession for BNHA blond boys

BNHA Blond Boys X GN!Reader h*nd h*lding moments

Characters: All Might, Present Mic, Fatgum, Twice, Aoyama, Ojiro, Kaminari, Bakugo, Honenuki, Monoma, Mirio

All Might

Knuckle brush

You handed him things before

Stacks of papers to grade, coffee after a long day, a napkin when he goes into a coughing fit

But something about this time turns his face a deep red

He withdrew quickly, in a jerking manner that dragged more attention than you’re sure he meant it to

He cleared this throat and thanked you quietly before shuffling off

It took a few moments to really set on you

You’d made contact

Such little contact you’d barely even felt it

He was cold, his skin rough and calloused, wrinkled and dry

How you managed to notice so much with such brief contact is astounding

And also incomparable to how much he noticed

He’s thinking about it all day, glancing at where the contact was made, shuffling, flushing to himself, holding his knuckles to his lips

Do it on purpose next time you hand him a stack of papers and he’ll drop them

Present Mic

In a crowd

It’s LOUD

You and Hizashi are trying to get home after a live show

The crowd is huge and still hyped from the concert

The quarters are tight, the space is limited, and without his towering hair spike it’s hard to keep track of your loud blond

Eventually a strong clasp from a hand horribly decorated in rings, fingerless gloves, and black nail polish claps on your wrist as your continued to be pulled though a crowd

When the world finally starts to calm and you have room to breath his hand slides to connect to your palm

Fingers intertwine with yours as a series of “Y’all good?”s start, followed quickly by an excited narration of the chaos that just ensued

He’d taken your hand so causally you barely even noticed

The two of you walked in a much calmer crowd, hand in hand, as Hizashi randomly picked bystanders out of his vocal range and made up their life stories to tell you

Fatgum

Big hands

You laid idly on the couch in Fatgum’s office, the interns long sense gone home

A pile of paperwork blocked your view of your hard working hero as he sat at his desk

You slumped and slid off the couch, boredom rising as you phone lie dead on the table nearby

A loud groan drives a “Just a bit longer, gumdrop” from behind the piles of unfinished work, a bit longer could be years for all you cared

Sliding across the hardwood floor on your back, you found yourself beside Taishiro’s desk, looking up at him from an angle you were rather use to

He was focused, with a smile still on his face as he worked, writing with one hand, the other causually turning Takoyaki in the grill built into his desk

You sat up, watching quietly. He was typically pretty observant, but he may not yet have noticed your approach

When his hand stopped turning and released, you took your chance

Both your hands snatched his wrist, sitting up a bit to rest yourself on his lap, you examined his large palm

He chuckled, “What’cha doin’, cupcake?”

His hand was massive in your own, enough to make anyone feel like a child. It could engulf you, hold half your torso and still have a pinkie to spare

You pressed on his palm, he hummed and returned to work, leaving you to admire as you pleased

His knuckles were scarred, several gashes and scrapes from punching at materials harder than even his fat could handle

Old burns from cooking, white spots on his finger tips from a time before he learned patients

You leaned back on him, holding his hand in your own, and watched him work

He seemed much more blissed from your company

Twice

Not enough hands

Jin’s a very physical person

He hangs off you every chance he can get, coddling and loving on you

He finds it annoying

So it’s not surprise as you two settled down for a movie night he was instantly on your lap like a cat

He lays over you like a blanket, limbs tangled every which way, head on your chest, looking at you more than the movie

One of your hands lay idly by your head, that one he has his own over, fingers tangled messily, almost uncomfortably

His other arm trapped under you, a hug from below, resting also uncomfortably against your spine

Leaving your free hand to tangle in his hair, a rare sight to have his mask off, though it probably wouldn’t last the whole movie, it should be cherished until then

When you notice his staring at you more than the screen, you choose to join him

You slide your hand from his hair to his cheek, he leans into it with the most lovestruck puppydog look a man his age could muster

He then starts to fidget around, moving like he’s stuck

It doesn’t take long from there for him to start getting frustrated with himself, splitting an argument for two between just him

You gently lift his head to regain eye contact and ask what’s wrong

He nearly starts crying

“I want to hold your cheek too but I don’t have enough hands!!”

He’s not willing to remove your hand from his hold or pull his other arm out from under you to compromise his own needs

He does eventually start crying over his lack of extra limbs to love you with

Aoyama

Standing ovation

Roaring applause rippled thought the auditorium

It wasn’t a big show, or a big stage, but it was your first written play, and seeing it go over so well was enough to bring a tear to your eyes

You joined the audience in standing to applause as the actors took the stage for the final bow

Only the lead, your star, wasn’t there with them

You blinked once, twice, three times before panic set in

There’s no way Yuga Aoyama would miss the chance to stand center stage in a spotlight. If he wasn’t on stage something must have happened

You tried your best not to look around too fervently, not wanting to startle anyone else

When a hand clasped yours

“And let’s not forget the playwright~✨”

Before you could question how he said that with his mouth, you were dragged onto the stage by your previously mentioned star, with his own mic in hand you don’t remember giving him

He held your arm up above his head as he runway walked his way along the stage, you closely in toe

You were going to go on stage eventually but you’d planned to be a lot more quiet about it, when more people had left early not wanting to sit though the applause

But instead, here you were, center stage, hand held high like you’d just won a boxing match by your own and only Aoyama

How he could stand being this bright all the time way beyond you

For now though, it was rather nice

Ojiro

Lost and found

You stepped out of your class stretching, ready for a well deserved lunch break when you heard your classmates muttering

“Isn’t he from the hero course?”

“What’s he doing?”

Being nosy wasn’t usually your strong suit, but the mutterings has peaked your interest

You followed the eyes of those speaking to find a blond boy sitting in the floor of the hall, knees pulled to his chest to keep his legs from disrupting the flow of traffic, with his tail resting over his feet to protect them from being stepped on

He smiled and gave a light wave to your class as the dispersed

You alone approached him, curiosity peaking. Why was he sitting out here in the hall?

When question he very sheepishly answered, “I, uh.. I got lost on my way to class”

There was several things wrong with that

Number one being, he’d been at this school half a year now. He has one classroom, a big classroom, in the hero course. It’s not easy to miss??

Number two, it was noon. Lunchtime. He has one classroom. How long had he been lost???

These questions had answers and he was, while slightly embarrassed, happy to share he had, in fact, been lost all morning. Not just in finding his class, but also in finding the exit to the building, any teachers he knew, or his phone to call for help

You began to feel sorry for the guy, as this seemed to be a common occurrence in his daily life

With a sigh, you offered your hand to help him up

It was lunch, for all courses, so surely he’d see his hero course classmates in the cafeteria. No one turns up Lunchrush’s food after all

He smiled and took your hand, lifting himself from the floor with a thankyou

“I’m Ojiro, by the way. You are...?”

He was rather polite to talk to the entire walk, his grip on your hand was soft, gentle, and his smile never seemed to waver

Kaminari

Swing yer partner round and round

“Oh this is my JAM!”

Mina excitedly turned up your shitty little radio before kicking herself up off the floor, grabbing Sero all in one quick motion

The two danced horribly off beat, you quickly guess Mina had never heard this song before in her life, just wanted to get moving

“Come on you two, it’s dance break time!”

You found yourself enraptured with her energy, already forgetting the homework you all were doing

Kaminari took your hand much like how Mina took Sero’s and began to dance just as off beat and spuratic as queen pinkie had

You laughed, stumbling with every step, same as the others, the giggling energy filling a previously silent room

Denki’s fingers dug into your knuckles as he smirked, suddenly spinning on his heel and dragging you with him

The two of you became a tornado in your tiny dorm room, barely keeping from knocking into your tea table as you spun like a couple of children

You could hear Mina cheer and laugh, a brief glanced told you Sero was recording this silly moment

You looked across the way at your dance partner

Spinning, laughing his head off like this was the most fun he’d ever had, eyes closed, caring not for his surroundings

You decided to let go

The momentum sent you both toppling, you safely into Mina, who was more then ready to catch you

Denki got the much less desirable aforementioned tea table, which sent him toppling backwards over the also aforementioned homework

If you all could have laughed any louder, you would

Bakugo

Sweaty hands

You always knew when Bakugo was going to hold your hand

He may think he’s smooth, wiping his hand on the pocket of his pants before reaching behind himself to grab at you

But you’d always notice

It was a good indicator you were walking too slow for his liking, or the area up ahead was crowed, or that he simply felt you were too far away

You couldn’t initiate holding hands, when he didn’t actively want to be in contact he’d keep his hands shoved deep in his pockets

So you just had to wait for him to wipe himself off and reach for you

You were free to wrap yourself around his arm whenever, though

He’ll look pissed, but won’t say a word

And if you move away, he’ll wipe his hand on his pants, and offer it to you, a silent plea for you to come back

Honenuki

Magic hands

You stretched out over the couch of the 1-B common room with a whine, the rest of your class in a similar state

Training was hell today, sparing with class 1-A was never a joke, and with Monoma egging the whole game up to be more than it should have been, it all just escalated to a point you all wish it hadn’t

“Alright, next.”

Honenuki, a godsend, your blessed angel, helped Tsuburaba off the second common room couch, his typically wide eyes closed and relaxed as he wobbled his way across the room

You happily took his place, stretching out on your stomach before your classmate with the magic powers of massage

His hands pressed into your back and you instantly relaxed, letting out a low hum as you snuggled the pillow under your chin

Honenuki returned your hum, his hands pressing into all your tenses spots, almost instantly releasing them from their knots

You’d probably have fallen asleep, if it wasn’t over so fast

He had the entire class to get though after all, though he hated to rush an art form

You took his hand as he helped you stand, the actual minute of his touch enough to wobble your legs

Kissing his knuckle and thanking him for sharing his magic, you found yourself plopped peacefully on the couch beside Tsuburaba

Honenuki chuckled at you as he called next, happy to be of service

Monoma

He’s showing off

You’d known for a while now Monoma didn’t know how to shut the fuck up

He’d brag about anything, over anyone, to everyone

He’d always loudly bragged about how much better his class was, how much stronger his friendships were, how absolutely amazing his partner was

You being said partner didn’t make said bragging less annoying

The two of you had been together less than an hour and he was already boasting about your perfection to all who would hear

Some genuine, loving, almost gaggingly sweet comments

Others just to rub it in the face of class 1-A as much as possible

A week into this relationship and people were starting to think you must be come kind of god with how Monoma spoke about you

You’d been on two dates with the guy

Now here you were, holding his hand on the walk to class, and regretting every step

As every single person who passed must take note of the fact you were holding his hand

And also must be aware how blessed he is to be holding your hand in return

And really you started to understand the concerned look Kendo gave you when you told her you’d agreed to date Neito Monoma

Still his words were genuine, no matter how they came across, and he truly had a million and one things to say about you

So you could hold though the embarrassment his overexcited bragging may cause

He just wants to show you off

Mirio

Quietly

You sat by his bed side, holding gently to his limp hand

Moments ago he was inconsolable, crying and screaming his lungs out

His quirk gone

His teacher gone

Everything he worked so hard for seemed to vanish in an instant

His grip, still so strong, had left your hand bruised, circulation cut off

It wasn’t a concern you really had

Sleeping, his pain was still so obvious

Bags under his eyes, dried streaks of tears still down his keeps

And your hand still tightly gripped in his

What would happen next, where he would go, who you all would become

They were all problems for the future

Tomorrow you could work on a solution

Tonight, you could hold his hand

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frostedfaves · 4 years ago

Text

Dark Paradise

Masterlist

Pairing: dark!WandaNat x fem!reader

Summary: You meet the infamous Avengers on spring break with your best friend Peter, and two of them seem to adore you more than expected. Requested here by my lovely 🐞anon.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY!!! dark themes, manipulation, mind control, blackmailing, age gap (reader is 21), dubcon (saying this just to be safe because Wanda uses her powers for evil a lot here), smut: oral, fingering, penetration/sex toy use, voyeurism (kinda), edging, overstimulation (if I forgot something please let me know!)

A/N: hi this is 6k words, which is the longest single fic I’ve ever written/posted here haha. also the end is not technically the end, if you know what I mean. anyway this took forever to write so enjoy this super far from canon fic and please tell me what you thought!! (also if you’re on my taglist and you weren’t tagged it’s because your age wasn’t in your bio)

“Here, let me take that for you,” Peter offers when he notices you headed toward the car, and you hand your suitcase to him with a smile.

“Thanks, P.”

You close the car door behind you after getting in on the passenger side, instantly reaching for his phone resting on the dashboard once you were buckled in. The two of you had an unspoken rule that you controlled the music whenever you traveled together, so his library was filled with various playlists you’d created simply because you didn’t trust him not to listen to the same five songs for the rest of his life.

“This is different,” Peter comments as he gets in on the driver’s side and catches the opening notes to an upbeat song. “I thought you were going to go with something calmer to help you sleep, like you usually do.”

“Well, I’m not usually going to meet the Avengers, so I’m too nervous to sleep.” You turn to pout at him as he drives off. “Is it too late to cancel?”

“Don’t even think about it. If I show up without you, everyone will think you’re imaginary.”

“Do they think you can’t make any friends outside of Ned?” you question as you open a bottle of water. “Because they’re not wrong.”

“I can make friends!” Peter whines and a quiet snorting sound escapes you.

“You can’t use me as an example.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re not actually friends.”

He picks up on your teasing nature and rolls his eyes, causing you to laugh as you lean back and settle into your seat more. You had well over three hours to stress about spending a week with the world’s most popular superheroes, and you’d rather be comfortable while you do so.

“Wake up, we’re here!”

Your eyes fly open at the sound of Peter’s voice, and any of the nerves that left long enough to let you sleep made a U-turn and hit you again, full force. Sitting up straight in the seat, you practice breathing properly while stretching and taking a look around as he pulls into the garage.

“Are you okay?” Peter asks once he parks, placing a hand over yours as he meets your gaze and you smile.

“I’ll be fine, P. I’m not gonna miss out on hanging out with you just because your super family is super intimidating.”

“Good. Besides, it won’t even be that bad! I’m willing to bet $1 million that they’ll love you.”

“I appreciate your optimism,” you tell him as the two of you get out of the car. “But you’re going to regret that bet when I use your money to retire early in some faraway rural town.”

Peter carried both suitcases as you made your way to an elevator, and you jumped when you suddenly heard a male voice.

“Welcome, Mr. Parker and Ms. L/N.”

“What is that?” you questioned as you faced Peter with wide eyes and he chuckled.

“You’re hearing Jarvis, Mr. Stark’s AI. Hey Jarvis, can you take us to the common room, please?”

“Right away, Mr. Parker.”

“This is so cool,” you comment as you look around the suddenly moving elevator. “How does it know my name?”

“Knowing everything is kind of its job, I guess.”

“Underoos!” a voice calls as soon as the doors open, quickly revealing itself to belong to Tony Stark as his gaze lands on you next. “So she is real.”

“I told you!” Peter defends as you step off the elevator together. “Mr. Stark, this is Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, kid,” Tony greets you with a shake of your hand. “I’m glad he found you. I was starting to worry that he’d build a robot to spend the rest of his life with.”

“I’m just his best friend, so it’s still possible.”

“Is this your friend, Peter?” Steve cuts off Peter’s response as he enters the room, moving to shake your hand next. “I’m Steve. Nice to meet you.”

“Okay, I’m going to show her to our rooms and then we’ll be back for dinner,” Peter tells everyone once you’d been introduced to Pepper, Bruce and Clint as well, and you’re about to head for the elevator again when someone interrupts.

“How about we take her down to her room instead?”

Your eyes widen as you watch none other than Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff enter the room hand in hand. Natasha’s hair seemed much longer than the last time she’d been in the public eye, but her all-knowing smirk was just the same and her green eyes were even more piercing in person. You noticed a bit of red glowing in Wanda’s eyes, which faded as she probably realized you’d seen, and you couldn’t help but wonder if that meant she hated you already.

“I know what you’re up to, Red.” Tony seemed accusatory as he pointed a finger at the pair. “You can’t bribe her into helping you cheat tonight.”

“Maybe I planned on giving her tips for surviving this testosterone filled tower.”

Natasha steps forward and grabs your hand with her free one, and with a flick of her wrist, Wanda has your suitcase floating in front of you as they lead you into the elevator.

“Sorry to whisk you away like that,” Wanda apologizes as the doors close with her head tilted to see you past Natasha. “We’re just excited to meet a new woman here.”

“No, it’s okay!” you insist breathlessly, your nerves slowly returning as Natasha lightly squeezes your hand. “I’m actually really excited to meet the two of you.”

“You know who we are?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that I know you personally, but I know that you’re one of the original team members.” You make eye contact briefly with Natasha before turning to Wanda. “And because the news stations somehow get ahold of everything, I know you joined after you helped everyone stop Ultron before he could create that indestructible body and destroy the world.”

“Yes, that’s true. Although I wish I could’ve saved my brother, too.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you lost him...or that you even had a brother.”

“It’s okay,” Wanda assures you with a smile as she lets go of Natasha, shifting to the other side of the elevator to grab your free hand. “I asked Fury to keep Pietro a secret because I didn’t want to see or hear any negative opinions from people that never even met him.”

“And we have plenty of time to get to know each other,” Natasha chimes in as the doors open to reveal a new setting. “This is our floor. We set up a spare bedroom here so we can spend time together away from the boys...when you’re not with Peter, of course.”

“Yeah, that’d be great!”

They lead you past their living room and kitchen, and you shamelessly admire the simple decor with little personal touches spread about. Turning into a hallway, Natasha walks ahead of you and Wanda to open a door to a bedroom.

“What do you think?” she asks with a smile that widens upon seeing your expression. “I’m guessing it’s good, then.”

“It’s perfect!” you cry out as you walk past to enter the room, immediately noticing the eggshell colored walls trimmed with your favorite color along the borders. “Wow, this is four times the size of a normal bedroom. Wait a minute.”

“Do you like it?” Wanda asks when she sees you pick up the glass figurine on the nightstand. “Peter mentioned your love of this animal and I have a whole collection of them from different places.”

“Like it? I love it! I have the same one in my dorm room!”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I can get you a different one.” She steps forward as she brings your suitcase to the floor beside the bed and you hug the small object close to your chest.

“Like I said, it’s perfect,” you assure her with a grin, which brings one to her own face.

“Well, I’m glad you’re happy with the set up. When you’re ready to head up to dinner, we’ll be waiting by the elevator. Also, if you ever need anything, our room is right across the hall.”

Natasha points to the closed door a few feet away, and you acknowledge her statement with a nod before they leave the room, closing your door nearly all the way behind them. You flop down on the bed with a dreamy sigh as you gaze up at the ceiling with a night sky painted on it.

“I don’t think I’ll ever want to leave this place.”

On the elevator ride up to join everyone for dinner, Natasha and Wanda take turns asking you questions about your classes and any friends you’d made, what you liked to do when you weren’t studying. You had to admit that the level of interest they had with you was shocking but flattering, especially when they insisted you sit between them at the table to continue your conversation.

“You don’t seem to be nervous anymore,” Peter acknowledges as you sit down, and Wanda faces you immediately.

“Were you nervous about meeting us?”

“Well, yeah,” you answer timidly, avoiding catching anyone’s curious glances by directing a glare toward Peter. “You might be normal people in here, but to the rest of the world, you’re portrayed as powerful and untouchable beings.”

“Maybe when they’re not talking about how much damage we’ve caused,” Bruce mumbles under his breath as the elevator doors opened again.

“I’m here, I’m here!” a voice calls as footsteps hurry toward the dining area, and Sam Wilson is revealed as he rounds the corner. “Sorry, I’m late. I was--”

“On a date, we know. You only told us that 500 times.”

“Don’t be jealous, old man. You’re married.” Sam grins at Clint as he sits next to him before his attention turns to you. “Do we have a newbie?”

“No, Mr. Wilson. This is my best friend, Y/N.”

“Call me Sam, kid.” He smiles at you as he goes for his silverware, and you’re just about to acknowledge him when his expression suddenly turns serious. “I’m sorry. You’re not a kid. You’re an independent and capable adult, and I should address you as such.”

“What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know.” Sam clears his throat and shakes his head as if he was clearing his mind. “I just suddenly felt the need to correct myself…You have any powers we should know about, Y/N?”

“No!” you quickly respond with widened eyes. “I wasn’t going to say anything, actually. I’m pretty used to older people calling me kid by now.”

From your left side, Natasha asks Clint to recall an embarrassing tale for you and the table livens up again, but you can’t seem to move past the unsettling way Sam shifted gears from calm and casual to uptight and disciplined. The image stayed with you through the rest of dinner even after he seemed to fully recover, until dishes were cleared away and replaced with games, and you suddenly had a lot more to focus on.

“I just don’t think it’s fair that he gets to be on your team again when I haven’t had him once.”

“Is anything fair with the guy who could use his personalized AI to cheat for him?”

“Could I do that? Yes. But have I done that? Maybe.”

“Wanna grab some fresh air with us?” Natasha suddenly asks you, causing you to frown.

“Aren’t we about to play another game?”

“It’ll take them another half hour before they finally decide something,” Wanda assures you as her fingers thread through yours gently. “We have plenty of time, and they won’t even notice we’re gone.”

They lead you by the hand to the elevator once more, going up a few floors before leading you out onto a balcony. Because you were so much higher than most of the surrounding buildings, there was an incredible view of the sun that was probably minutes away from disappearing to the other side of the world. The air is chillier than when you’d arrived, but you had to admit that standing in the cool breeze is worth a few goosebumps on your skin. Your hands are released as you reach a bench near the ledge, and you climb over it to sit as the other two women settle on either side of you.

“Why did Peter decide to share his secret with you?”

“Technically he didn’t,” you recall with a laugh. “He’d gone out to deal with something that activated his spider sense or whatever and I came to his dorm room to sleep after an exam because I was too tired to walk all the way to my place. Anyway, I walk in at the same time he’s coming back in through the window, and I swear we both sat there for a full two minutes before either of us could think of anything to say.”

“It’s still very nice of you to keep such a big secret for him,” Natasha praises, and your laughter quiets down as you take in her words.

“I guess I just know what it feels like to not want your life to change drastically because of one thing.” Your gaze shifts between the women for a moment. “That reminds me, I wanted to ask--”

“Wait, look at this!” Wanda quickly cuts you off with an enthusiastic grin. “You’re about to witness one of my favorite things about living here.”

She directs you to lean over and look at the streets as the sun finally disappears over the horizon, and you can’t help the small gasp that escapes you. Street lights begin turning on at what seems to be the center of the city and quickly spreading, increasing the radius of well-lit neighborhoods by the second. It was a mesmerizing sight that--until every lamp was on--nearly made you forget the question you were building toward.

“That was so cool!” you express honestly before clearing your throat awkwardly. “So I wanted to ask if the two of you were dating...or in a relationship or whatever. I mean, I don’t want to assume anything of course, just wondering because you share a room and floor, and you seem to be really into holding hands.”

“Well, I’d never really been into holding hands or a lot of other forms of affection before I met Wanda, but she seemed to flip some switch inside of me.” Natasha admitted with a bashful chuckle as she glanced at Wanda before turning to study you. “And your hands are so perfect to hold.”

“To answer your question, we are together.” Wanda rests a hand on your thigh and casts a sweet smile in your direction when you face her again. “Natasha was the first to give me a chance after everything with Ultron, and initially I thought I was just feeling grateful to receive some type of positive attention from someone other than Pietro. It wasn’t until Tash called me out on staring at her lips that I realized I wanted more than friendship.”

“The only reason I did was to confirm she was feeling the same things I’d finally come to terms with myself.” Natasha chuckles as Wanda sends over a bit of red mist to squeeze her own thigh. “What about you, love?”

“What about me?”

“Do you think you’re feeling more than friendship for Peter?”

“Oh no,” you quickly denied with a chuckle. “He’s the perfect example of a great boyfriend, but not my boyfriend. Plus I’d rather not have the same experience as MJ did.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, the ‘close friends to a relationship that ends with each person pretending the other doesn’t exist’ experience. I’d rather not.”

“Yeah, that does sound messy,” Natasha sighs as she subtly rests her hand on your other thigh. “So you’re not looking for a great boyfriend. What are you looking for then?”

“Nothing really, at least until I finish school, but having a girlfriend would be nice. I’d like to be with someone that respects me and can take care of themselves when I’m not around, because I tried the ‘caring for someone’ thing and it sucks when they don’t put in the same effort that you do.”

“Maybe you should try someone older, more mature,” Natasha suggests as she shifts to squeeze your knee lightly, and you start to feel a bit nervous about where she’s going with this. “Maybe two people that already have their shit together and would go to the ends of the earth to please you.”

“Okay, um…” You push both of their hands away with a bit of difficulty. “You both seem great and you’re incredibly attractive, but I’m not really interested.”

“Don’t worry about it, detka.” Natasha pushes your shoulder down as you try to get up, and Wanda cups your cheek with her hand.

“You may not be interested now…” She stands with Natasha and leans in to kiss your forehead, letting her lips linger on your skin as she continues. “But you will be.”

She pulls away and winks before lacing her fingers through Natasha’s as they leave the balcony, and you gasp in air as the tension they’d built seems to exit behind them. You finally decide to head back once you’ve taken a few minutes to catch your breath and calm your shaking limbs, but you wonder how long the calm will truly last.

You found yourself waking up suddenly and practically flying into a sitting position as if someone had pulled you up, but luckily the room is empty. You sit for a moment to catch your breath and survey your surroundings to assure you’re truly alone, and you notice your door is cracked right before you hear an unidentifiable sound.

“Fuck.”

Despite every fiber of your being screaming at you as one would do to a character in a horror film, you decide to climb out of bed to investigate what you were hearing, justifying your actions with the excuse of seeing if your floor-mates were in danger, as if you could save them. A few seconds after opening your door fully and peeking out made you realize that they were more than okay.

“Fuck! Right there, please don’t stop.”

“Such a dirty mouth, malyshka.”

You’re quick to return the door to its cracked position, leaning against the nearby wall with wide eyes as you attempt to process the image across the hall. The bedroom door sits wide open, giving you the chance to examine every inch of bare skin of the two women spread across the bed, Wanda resting on her arched back with her hands in Natasha’s red hair buried between her legs. Her moans seem to raise in volume, pitch and frequency as she’s brought closer and closer to the edge, and you ignore the warm feeling in your lower abdomen as you hurry back to bed and throw a pillow over your exposed ear.

“Good morning.”

Your free hand quickly shoots upward to catch your water glass as it slipped through your fingers in your moment of shock, and you try not to make a deal of hearing two sets of footsteps headed toward the kitchen.

“How’d you sleep last night? I know how scary it can be to rest your eyes in a new place.”

“I think I did pretty well,” you answer quietly as you step away from the fridge and lean against a section of the counter that faces out into the rest of the room. “The bed’s really nice.”

“You’re lying,” Wanda accuses as she crosses the room, eyes turning red and hands lifting toward your face.

“What are you--”

“Couldn’t sleep because of us, right?” She chuckles when you go limp under her touch, and Natasha ducks between the two of you to save your glass for the second time. “Did you enjoy hearing us that much?”

“You did sound really good,” you tell her with a drowsy smile as she pins you against the counter to keep you from falling.

“I bet you wish you were in my place, don’t you?” Her tone is light and teasing at first, becoming a bit stern as she shifts to push her thigh between your legs and you instantly roll your hips against the pressure. “Or maybe you want to taste me while Natasha fucks you?”

“No.”

“No?!” she fires back immediately, leaving a red mist around your temples as she grabs your waist with both hands to keep you grinding against her. “You mean you don’t want to cum right now?”

“Well, now that you mention it…”

A breathy moan escapes you as your eyes flutter closed, and if your head wasn’t being forcefully held in place, it would’ve tipped backward. You feel what must be Natasha’s fingertips grazing along your jaw and tracing a line down the side of your neck and toward your shoulder, repeating the gentle motion as goosebumps appeared all over the exposed skin.

“Is everyone decent?”

The fog behind your eyes seems to clear in seconds, and you blink in confusion when you open your eyes to see Natasha and Wanda making coffee nearby. You try to recall even coming into the kitchen, but everything from the moment you stepped into the bathroom to get ready is a blur, so you shake your head and reach for your glass of water on the counter as Natasha responds.

“Come in, Peter.”

“Morning, everyone,” Peter greets cheerfully as he enters the kitchen, his grin falling when his eyes land on you. “Are you okay?”

You open your mouth with the full intention of telling him that you are not okay, not when you were missing at least an hour of memory, and bits of last night were slipping away from you too. But before you could speak, a cold feeling seems to pass through the back of your skull to slip into your brain, and a switch flips.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you respond with a chuckle. “You worry too much, spiderling.”

“The world’s a stressful place,” he grumbles when you playfully ruffle his hair. “Anyway, are you ready to go soon?”

“Where are you headed?” Natasha quickly asks with a frown. “Y/N hasn’t even had breakfast yet.”

“We’re meeting Aunt May, so we’ll eat with her.”

“I just have to grab my bag,” you explain before heading down the hall to your temporary room, feeling the chilly sensation leaving you as you get further away from the kitchen, and it thankfully doesn’t return when you head back. “Ready.”

“Have fun!” Natasha calls as Peter heads for the elevator again, quickly grabbing your wrist once he’s out of sight. “See you tonight, printsessa.”

Her hand quickly shifts to grip the back of your neck as she leans in to kiss your cheek, and the two women are wearing sweet smiles as you turn away from them to catch up with Peter, attempting to shake the shell-shocked expression from your features.

“You sure you’re good?”

“I’m fine,” you insist as the doors close, in hopes that you really would be fine.

Meeting Peter’s aunt was much more of a pleasant experience than you expected, and it was obvious she adored you by the way she spoke to you, although part of you felt she was just happy Peter had more people around to love him. Your day was cut a bit short when MJ unexpectedly approached Peter, requesting to talk to him, and Aunt May offered to drive you back to the tower so you both could escape that awkward mess of a conversation.

“It was so great to meet you today,” you tell her with a grin as you take off your seatbelt.

“Likewise, honey. You have my number so just call me if you ever need anything, okay?”

She pulls you into a hug over the middle console and you thank her again for the ride as you get out of the car, trying not to seem too nervous when you notice Natasha and Wanda standing in the lobby. Your plan was to walk past them without speaking, but you should’ve known that wouldn’t work.

“Why was she hugging you?” Natasha asks coldly as you enter the building and you sigh.

“She was just saying goodbye--wait. Why am I explaining myself to you?”

You keep walking until they’re no longer in your peripheral, stopping abruptly as a red mist surrounds your legs, and your eye-rolling is cut short when Wanda appears in front of you and grabs your chin harshly.

“If Tash asks you a question, you answer.”

“Without attitude,” Natasha adds, which makes you want to roll your eyes again.

“Sorry, I didn’t get the rules handbook when I arrived. Can I go now?”

“You know what?” Wanda cuts off Natasha’s angry response with a smirk. “You can go.”

The red mist surrounding you disappeared, and despite the suspicious feeling that washed over you, you continued on toward the elevator with your head held high. You refused to let them get to you.

It was subtle at first. A slight tingling between your legs that you couldn’t seem to get rid of. In the very beginning, you were worried that something was wrong until you realized where the feeling was coming from when it turned into slow circles around your clit as you caught up with Peter in his room. By dinner, there was the added sensation of fingers curling inside you at a steady pace, and you hoped no one would notice your hips slightly bucking under the table as you attempted to repeatedly chase a release that never came.

A movie follows dinner today, and you make sure to cover yourself with a large blanket because you were still being edged and you couldn’t stop moving at this point. You even try to slide your hand into your sweatpants to finish the job yourself, and your jaw clenches in anger every time your fingers lock up because you know who’s responsible.

“Okay, you win!” you announce as you walk into the kitchen on Natasha and Wanda’s private floor, not missing the look shared between the two women. “I’m sorry I was rude earlier. Can you please just stop teasing me?”

“How about we help you finish instead?”

You should decline. You should just say ‘no’ because letting them finish you off tonight will turn into an attachment that you know you don’t want, nor are you ready for. Inviting them in will be equivalent to selling your soul, and you’re not sure you want to put a price on it. But the ache below your stomach is persistent, and if they won’t let you touch yourself, someone has to do it.

“Fine.”

“Don’t be so grumpy about it,” Wanda teases as she grabs your hand and starts leading you toward their bedroom. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

She pushes you back onto the surprisingly large bed as soon as you’re close enough, instructing you to take off your shirt and bra while she watches. Once your top half is completely exposed, she leans forward to run her hands from your shoulders down toward your nipples, circling them with her thumbs until they harden.

“I don’t like being teased.”

“Oh, you don’t?” she asks in a mocking tone as she reaches for the band of your sweatpants and pulls them down, placing her palm over the wet spot in your panties. “Then what’s this?”

“Please,” you beg through a quiet moan, bucking your hips again when she presses her thumb against your clit through the fabric. “Please just fuck me already.”

“Patience, detka.”

You watch with wide eyes as Natasha and Wanda both strip away their own sweatpants, revealing the toys tied to their legs. Natasha goes to untie hers while Wanda uses her powers to rip away your ruined panties in one fluid motion.

“There she is.”

Natasha puts her hand on Wanda’s back and forces her to bend over, and you bite your lip as her eyes flutter closed and mouth falls open while Natasha thrusts into her. You’re just about to grab Wanda’s hand to lead her where you want, when her eyes open suddenly with a glowing red surrounding her pupils, and your wrists are bound together over your head by an invisible force.

“Did you forget who’s in charge here?”

“Don’t get too cocky, malyshka,” Natasha reminds her as she grabs a fistful of her hair and slams into her, causing Wanda to moan and giggle at the same time.

“My apologies, Tash.”

You couldn’t help your sigh of relief as Wanda finally slid two fingers inside of you, her thrusts deepening each time as Natasha fucked her toward you with her hands on her hips. The sounds coming from your mouth and between your legs were embarrassingly loud, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as she brought you closer and closer to the edge, until a loud whine escaped you as she removed her fingers and delivered a slap to your glistening folds.

“Tell me who this belongs to,” she orders through her own moans, holding you down when you begin grinding into her hand. “I’m gonna cum regardless of what you do, so you’d better answer. Be a good girl like I know you can.”

“Yours!” you cry out finally, sighing when Natasha leans into your line of sight with a brow raised. “It’s yours and Natasha’s.”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

She slips back into you without warning, and your back arches off the bed as she finally brings you to orgasm. She continues to thrust into you as you whine and squirm away, luckily slowing down and finally stopping as Natasha makes her cum a minute later, leaving the strap inside of her as they both catch their breath. Wanda pulls out of you and sits up to lean against her, holding her hand up between them as they both clean your cum off her fingers with their tongues, and you sit there clenching around nothing as you watch.

“You seem tired,” Natasha comments as her eyes land on you again.

“Too bad we’re not done.”

Wanda flips you onto your stomach with a quick motion of her fingers, using her hands to pull you by the waist until you’re on your knees at the edge of the bed, and she holds one side of your waist as she delivers a slap to your ass this time. Her touch lingers as she pulls away to free her own strap, and you nearly fall over when you feel the tip of the toy rub against your clit.

“Wait, let me fuck her this time.”

You hear their soft laughter as they switch places, sharing a kiss in the process, and you gasp when a hand wraps around your neck and pulls you up against Natasha’s chest.

“I like having you this close to me, printsessa,” she whispers in your ear, chuckling when you melt against her as she pushes the tip of her strap into you. “How many times do you think I can get you to cum?”

Her grip on your throat is loose as she allows you to adjust to the size, tightening suddenly when she slams into you once, twice, until every thrust is at a rough pace that you wouldn’t be able to handle if she wasn’t holding you against her by the waist. You feel that same tingling circling your clit again, occasionally traveling upward to tease your nipples as well, and it wasn’t long before you were releasing a strangled scream as you climaxed.

Natasha eventually stops thrusting into you as your legs shake, and you breathe out another sigh of relief when she allows you to fall onto the mattress. However, the relief is short-lived when you realize that she only paused to let Wanda push into her from behind, and it wasn’t long before the two of them found a rhythm that was pleasing them and ruining you.

Your wrists are freed as Natasha pulls out of you some minutes later, and you collapse onto one side of the bed with your body aching a bit from a third orgasm, your eyes only halfway open as you watch the pair. They remove the straps from their waists and set them aside, and you become a bit more alert when you notice Natasha grab what seems to be a double-ended dildo.

“No more. I can’t,” you mumble tiredly as your wrists are bound by Wanda’s power again.

“One more, and you can,” she tells you as she flops onto the bed beside you, and that red mist surrounds her fingers again as she guides you onto your knees to hover above her face. “You wanted to cum, so you don’t get to run from this.”

Her hands grab your waist and pull you closer, and you release a shuddering moan as her tongue runs past your hole and over your clit, teasing it a few times with the tip of her tongue before diving in to wrap her lips around it. She alternates between sucking your clit and slipping inside you as Natasha climbs on the bed behind you to position herself with the new toy.

“Fuck,” Wanda attempts to say once Natasha begins thrusting, and you fall forward as the vibration of her moans become too much, whining when Natasha slides her hands over your breasts and pulls you back up again.

“Take it all like a good girl.”

She keeps pulling until your head drops against her, and she moans against your neck while she kisses and sucks on your skin, bouncing faster on Wanda who groans loudly in response as she attempts to match each thrust. The hums of her voice has you grinding against her tongue, and you yelp when Natasha bites down just as Wanda brings you over the edge. She keeps going despite your protests, managing to get you to cum once more before they finally do.

You lie there with your bones feeling like jelly as you’re covered with a blanket minutes after everyone’s bathroom trip, too tired to even fight for sleeping in your own bed as Natasha and Wanda slide in on either side of you.

“You did so well tonight, detka,” Wanda praises as she strokes your cheek with a loving stare. “I can tell you’ll be a great addition to our relationship. I knew it from the moment I saw you.”

“I’m not doing this again,” you insist as the smile fades from her expression. “I’m not getting in a relationship with two women that don’t take ‘no’ for an answer, and I’d prefer sleeping in my own bed.”

“You’re already in a relationship with us, printsessa,” Natasha growls as she shoves you back down when you try to get up, and you push her hand away.

“There’s nothing you can say that’ll make me want to be with you.”

“It’s not about what you want to do. It’s about what you have to do.” She grabs your phone from the nightstand, and you’re somehow not even surprised when she unlocks it on the first try. “Because it’d be a shame if someone was to tell Peter about all the nudes you have of him.”

You snatch the phone from her grip, eyes widening as you scroll through your camera roll, finding naked pictures of Peter scattered throughout it. You check the date on the oldest one and began to feel nauseous when you saw it was taken not even a month after the two of you met.

“Don’t think you’ll be deleting those either, because we can replace them and make things worse.” Her smile was falsely sweet and troubling as she grabbed your chin to force you to make eye contact. “We’ve gone this long without having you, and we’ll do whatever it takes not to lose you.”

Tags: @cordeliaswhore @egotisticalstoner @muralskins @natasha-danvers @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @madamevirgo @teenwonder @honeyvenable @slut-for-nat

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