#i'm pushing myself to do something new with every one of them
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God, that was my whole fucking childhood in a nutshell.
You know what I love about it?
I've made a list.
Won't you take a moment to read about all of the things I love?
I think you'll enjoy it
I'm excited to share things with you :D
Love being gaslit into thinking that every single problem is a problem with me.
Love being constantly abused by society every single step of the way.
Love being psychologically tortured non-stop for literal years by peers who treated it as a sport.
I wish I could make friends
Love being psychologically tortured non-stop for years by adults out of spite that I went to for help.
Love having my joy and sense of wonderment beaten out of me during a time of nurturing.
What did I do wrong?
Love living as an adult in a child's body.
Was it something I said?
I love every attempt at human connection and every attempt to share my interests being aggressively rejected and being punished for even trying.
I love how it was seen as especially noble that I would spend time with the nonverbal autistic kids trying to find new ways to communicate with them when they were among the very few who seemed to understand me.
I'm sorry I didn't mean to bother you
I love seeing nonverbal autistic kids being seen as obnoxious lumps of flesh incapable of thought or agency by people who make no real attempt to adapt to their needs.
I love being told I have no sense of empathy by people who act like unfeeling psychopaths towards me when I dare to simply exist around them.
I love being called a retard by my classmates for struggling to use spoken language under stress.
I love being pushed to the point of abject desperation, being backed into a corner and drowning in abuse and neglect and isolation and feeling completely and utterly hopeless.
Please just leave me alone
I love having my desperate struggle for basic survival labeled as "anger issues."
I love having nobody to turn to for company but my pet cat.
I love crying myself to sleep every night.
I love spending every day yearning to return to the before times, hoping that everything is just a horrible nightmare and that I would wake up one day in a kind world.
I love being disappointed every time.
I love waking up into different variations of the same horrible, traumatic day instead.
Over.
And over.
And over.
And over.
And over.
And over.
Please, I'm trying my best
And over.
And over.
And over.
And over.
And over.
And over.
And over.
And over.
I love losing hope.
I love wondering why I had any to begin with.
I love trying to run away and making it a block before breaking down and sobbing alone in the cold winter rain.
And over.
And over.
And over. What do you want from me
And over.
And over.
And over.
And over.
And over.
And over.
And over.
And over.
And over.
And over.
And over.
And over.
I loAnd over.
Ov
Er.
I love forgetting how it feels to have the gentle wAnd over.armth of sunlight on your skin.
And over.
And over.
And over.
And over.
And ovI love accepting that this horrible, cold, lonely tunnel is my new life.er.
And over.
And over. Please I just want an honest friend
And over. I just want to be loved
I love accepting that there is no light at the end of this tunnel.
And over.
And over.
And over And over
And over I love you Lula, you're such a good kitty
And over I love that you spend time with me
And over thank you for being a warm, gentle thing
And over for me to hold close to my heart
And over. Such a sweetie
And over.
And over.
And over. Such a kind soul
And over.
And over.
And over.
And over.
I love holding my stuffed animals close and sobbing as I apologize over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and without even knowing what I'm apologizing for. and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and
And over.
And over.
And over.
And over.
And over. I have poured so much love into my stuffed
And over. animals
And over.
And over. Maybe someday I will have that love
And over. returned to me
And over.
And over. and I won't be so sad
And over.
And over.
I love having the school's principal, the only adult in my life that would extend kindness and understanding to me, being out sick for days without explanation.
And over.
And over. Lula's fur is so silky soft
And over.
I love the pain turning to a dull, crushing ache.
And over.
And over. It's a good soft texture in a world of
And over. bad textures and bad people
I love days turning to weeks.
And over.
And over.
A
I love becoming desensitized
And over please get better soon it's gotten so bad
And oer please come back I'm begging you
A d ov r
I love weeks turning to months.
I love becoming depersonalized.
And over.
And over.
And over.
I love the temporary substitute.
And over.
And over.
I love how I'm a problem to solve.
And over.
I love being told he's getting better.
I love being lied to.
I love being gaslit up until the day of his death.
I love begging God for just five minutes to say my goodbyes and thank him for everything he did for me.
I love getting no reply.
I love dreaming of monsters pretending to be him.
I love waking up to monsters pretending to be him.
And overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAm I in hell?And overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd over
I love giving up.
I love having nothing left to live for.
I'm so sorry
I tried my best
It wasn't good enough
Maybe it's my fault after all
Maybe I didn't deserve life in the first place
I love walking home with my sister and the dipshit neighbor boy.
I love that not even the walk home from school will grant me peace.
I love how he's a total asshole all the time to me for no fucking reason at all.
I love when I finally snap.
I love deciding that I'm done with all of it.
Maybe this is my freedom
I love trying to jump into traffic.
I loveAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAHell would be better than this.And overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd over
And being pulled out of traffic by my sister
I lovenot to stop me from killing myself
I love ovbut because it seemed like I was just being a complete impulsive spaz like always with no self control
erIloveyoululakittyIloveyoululakittyIloveyoululakittyIloveyoululakittyIloveyoululakittyIloveyoululakittyIloveyoululakittyIloveyoululakittyIloveyoululakittyIloveyoululakittyI
I love you Lula kitty more than anyone else in the whole wide world, thank you for letting me talk and listening to me and not being mean to me
I love being stuck here
I love being trapped
I love being denied even the kindness of death
I lo
Ilo
I love breaking my arm and getting a silver sharpie in the hopes that someone will sign it.
I love that nobody ever did.
I
No
ilha
Over and over and over and over and No.
I love I've fucking had it
Äź lĂžvĂš being crushingly alone
I love I've absolutely fucking had it I'm done with this
I love You know what I have bent over backwards and
I love done everything I can to destroy everything
I love about myself that brings me joy just so that
I love feeling the warm light return.
I love you would allow me to exist and survive
I love getting lost in imaginary worlds on the computer that let me pretend I live in something other than this godawful fucking torture chamber where every sound stabs into me like knives and every texture rips at my skin like knives and everything is trying to cut me to pieces like I tried to kill myself when it became clear that I could not so much as breathe wi autistic retard stupid useless piece of shit crybaby anger issues retard retard retard stupid idiot retard can't spell words out loud stop being such a fucking crybaby all the time retard freak retard retard retard degenerate piece of garbage annoying piece of shit thout being torn down and beaten into submission
I love it turning into a harsh, dry, burning feeling.
I love when people leave me alone and let me draw in What do you want from me peace.
WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME
WHAT DO YOU FUCKING WANT FROM ME
I TRIED TO GIVE UP MY LIFE FOR YOU AND YOU WOULD NOT TAKE EVEN THAT
DO YOU THINK MY ENTIRE FUCKING EXISTENCE IS JUST TO BE YOUR AMUSING LITTLE PUNCHING BAG
YOU KNOW WHAT, YOU CAN'T TELL ME TO SIT DOWN AND BE QUIET ANYMORE WHEN YOU WILL NOT FUCKING LET ME
I'VE FUCKING HAD IT
NO, THIS IS NOT MY FUCKING PROBLEM
IT IS NOT MY FUCKING PROBLEM THAT MY ABILITY TO LIVE MY FUCKING LIFE IS SUCH A MASSIVE ISSUE FOR YOU
I'M FUCKING SICK OF ALL OF YOU AND I'M NOT GOING TO TAKE THIS ANYMORE
YOU CANNOT TELL ME WHAT TO DO, YOU CANNOT MAKE ME SIT STILL AND BE QUIET
YOU CAN TORMENT ME, BEAT ME, HARASS ME, CALL ME STUPID STUPID RETARD FUCKUP STUPID ANNOYING HAHA YOU SPILLED YOUR MILK AT LUNCH AND GOT UPSET AND EVERYONE SAW AND IT WAS EMBARRASSING AND ALL YOU WANTED WAS FOR PEOPLE TO STOP LOOKING AT YOU AND
I love IT'S SOOOO FUNNY THAT WE CAN SET YOU OFF JUST BY SAYING MILK NOW HAHAHAHA HAAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAA HAHAHA
BUT YOU CANNOT FUCKING CONTROL ME ANYMORE
I love my lula-boo, my sweet little kitty understands me.
I love how even an animal is capable of more kindness and empathy than you people.
I love that I'm fucking allowed to rock if I want to.
I love deciding that I am not the fucking problem and if people want to have a problem it is theirs to fucking deal with.
I love trying to hit someone that was trying to hurt to me and being punched in the stomach as hard as he could manage.
I love crumpling onto the cold metal grating in agonizing pain and struggling to breathe while the teacher yells at me for being late to line up.
I love deciding that I can just make myself throw up and go home for the day because I'm sick.
I love that You can't fucking stop me. What are you going to do. What could you possibly do to me that's worse than the last five years of And overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd. Do you think I care anymore? Do you think I have anything left to lose?
I love that What, I can't even share the time of day with you people without someone hitting me or telling me to shut up and nobody cares about your stupid fucking Mario games. And you expect me to fall in line and write kind words for my classmates just because they're honored student of the month?
I love that Maybe I'll have some kind words for them when they stop tormenting me and fucking apologize.
I love that Fine. Send me to the fucking principal's office. See what I care about being removed from this situation.
I love that Maybe I'll have some kind words for them when they realize what they've done to me and understand how I feel.
I love that Maybe I'll have some kind words for them when they're the ones trying to kill themselves for once to escape their burden of guilt.
What happens at the end of eternity?
I love that I'm so desensitized to suicidal thoughts that it's not even a taboo subject to me anymore. It's just the fond childhood memories to me at this point.
I love being followed for years.
I love glancing over my shoulder and seeing it close behind every time.
I love having my experiences denied for years.
I love people shrugging it off.
I love being told that they did everything they could but their hands were tied.
I love being a scarred, mutilated corpse of a person for the rest of my life.
I love that I can't share about my special interests without constant flashes of anxiety that I'm going to get yelled at.
I love that I constantly have to worry that maybe this is all just a lie and that they're just putting up with me and that it's the same as always.
I love being told things will get better by people who do nothing to make it so.
I love being told that they can't do much for me now but I'll do great in college.
I love that I have no recourse for what happened.
I love being an unfortunate case that shouldn't have happened but they can't do anything about it.
I love being told that people in the school administration were made aware of my case and that they're going to try to make adjustments to stop it from happening again.
I love not being asked for my thoughts.
I love that nonverbal autistic children are still in the same Special Ed class they've always been in.
I love that they're still treated as obnoxious lumps of meat without agency or worth.
I love being told things are better.
I love how the scars remain.
I love the flashbaWHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME LET ME OUT LET ME OUTcks.
I love being told that "low-functioning autistics" have other issues and not everybody is ready for the same kind of dignity and fair treatment and respect.
I love that I'm too autistic to be treated with dignity and too good at masking to be given accomodations.
I love having the nightmares.
I love dreaming of monsters pretending to be him.
I love having to relive those five yearsAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAHell would be better than this.And overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd overAnd over in my dreams.
I love how nothing is wrong now.
I love how the majority of my life has been spent emotionally-dead and completely isolated out of fear.
I love living in the same room that I spent so many years weeping in.
I love being haunted by the ghost of a sobbing, lonely child.
I love worrying about if I'm allowed to flap and rock around.
I love worrying if people think I'm weird for touching the cloth and clothing in the store to feel its texture when it looks nice.
I love worrying if it's okay to mention that a sound is hurting my ears.
I love worrying if I'm allowed to share my interests with people.
I love worrying about whether people will start to do it again.
I love being an adult in a child's body.
I love being a child in an adult's body.
I love being gaslit.
I love hearing the piercing fluorescent whine.
I love seeing the disorienting fluorescent flicker.
I love the cold, gross light cast upon everything I can see.
I love the resigned expressions on people's faces when I tell them about it.
I love the fond childhood memories it stirs up.
I love the lamp.
I cannot stop thinking about the lamp.
I know nothing of the lamp but it consumes me nonetheless.
I love living in a prison of my own flesh.
I love being a child in an adult's body.
I miss you, Lula.
growing up autistic / growing up gaslit
I.
this is the first lesson you learn: you are always wrong.
there is no electric hum buzzing through the air. there is no stinging bite to the sweetness of the mango. there is no bitter metallic tang to the water.
there is no cruelty in their laughter, no ambiguity in the instructions, no reason to be upset. there is no bitter aftertaste to your sweet tea, nothing scratchy about your blanket.
the lamps glow steadily. they do not falter.
II.
this is the second lesson you learn: you are never right.
you are childish, gullible, overly prone to tears. you are pedantic, combative, deliberately obtuse. you are lazy, unreliable, never on time.
youâre always making up excuses, rudely interrupting, stepping on peopleâs shoes. youâre always trying to get attention, never thinking about anyone else, selfish through and through.
itâs you thatâs the problem. the lamps are fine.
III.
this is the third lesson you learn: you must always give in.
mother knows best. father knows best. doctor knows best. teacher knows best. this is the proper path. do not go astray.
listen to your elders, respect your betters, accept whatâs given to you as your due. bow to the wisdom of experience, the education of the professional, the clarity of an external point of view.
what do you know about lamps, anyway?
#reblogs#i guess#im so sorry#im so so sorry#I know this is too much#I've been having a rough time lately#autistic#autism#neurodiversity#ptsd#prose
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Lads i have Fucked Up Big Time
#somehow I just. Fuckin. Forgot. That if I wanna switch my major that I have to do a bunch if shit#and I missed the deadline for it because I didn't realize that I needed to do it and also forgot to reach out about it until WAY too late#so now I can't do anything until the spring#which is also bad because I don't know what the fuck my class schedule should be!!!!!!!#advisor told me that I can talk to her after the enrollment period and schedule a meeting and we can figure out what I'm doing from there#but like. ouggggggghhg#Im so worried there's gonna be some fuckup with my schedule and I won't be able to register for enough classes to be a full time student#which would be so bad#idk should I just wait until AFTER the enrollment period??? and just have no classes???#I'm gonna try and register for a few classes so I at the very least have Something in my schedule#mainly ones for my current (old) major and a few of the new classes#because multiple classes that I need to take I can Only take them IF I'm enrolled in that major. Which I'm currently not because I'm stupid#im just stressed now and unfortunately there isn't much i can do đ„°#i don't even know which classes I should be trying to take. I can GUESS but like who the fuck knows#so i can't even try and plan out a potential schedule i just get to sit on my ass and stress#sighh. im gonna try to not think about it bc its gonna stress me out#on one hand it's tempting to blame like. idk. literally every adult i talked to because none of them actually told me#âHey btw you actually need to go to this office and fill out this paperwork and submit it by a due dateâ#they were just like yeah okay u can take some classes. and then we'll figure it out later#like. i would have gone and done the shit if I knew I needed to do iT!!!!#but also I should have sat down and looked more into it to so#bleughhhhhhhh#I'm just stressed. and annoyed. at myself mainly because like. duh of course I'd have to go fill out paperwork but I just was like#âYeah I'll talk to my advisor laterâ and kept pushing shit off until it was too late <3#idk man im. so tired#hopefully it'll all work out okay and fine and i won't have the shittiest schedule on earth next semester#and hopefully the classes i need won't fill up!!!! :))))))#ahahahahahsh#im fucked man#lilac post
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hi! itâs me
i wanted to ask you how would the jjk guys react to you getting their lips tatted on you..?(specifically gojo)
like you got them with lipstick and they kiss a paper then the tattoo artist makes it a stencil in red and you put it right under your boob..?
(donât do this if your uncomfy with it! also take your time your probably busy)
xoxo,em! take care
Hi sweets, sorry for the long wait, I've been awfully busy but here it is, I made it specially smutty to compensate lol hope you like it :) btw... I love your requests ;)
How would the JJK guys react to you getting their lips tattooed on you đ
Ft. Gojo Satoru, Nanami Kento, Choso, Suguru Geto, Ryomen Sukuna.
SATORU GOJO
Five missed calls and four unseen texts. Gojo sighs, scratching the back of his neck, he hated it when you left him on read. What could you be doing that was so damn important to ignore him.
The sound he had been waiting for since the day started makes his ears ring with excitement and without wasting a second, he opens the text message with your name on it.
Gojo Satoru's eyes widen, and his black glasses slide down the bridge of his nose almost comically thanks to his jaw dropping a little, all at the sight of the picture attached to a cute and adorable message that says:
"Do you like it?"
Gojo growls under his breath, subtly pulling with a shaky finger at the collar of his shirt, suddenly it's too hot there, his cheeks turn an accusatory red and his breathing has grown labored. Even his palms are sweating, for fuck's sake! What's wrong with him?! It's just the shape of his lips on the delicious curve of your under-boob. Shit! He's about to bust a cap inside his pants.
"Satoru-" Nanami's stoic voice breaks his trance and looking around almost as if had forgotten he was in the middle of a briefing, gets up and without any further explanation than: "Emergency!" Leaves the school, leaving behind and unattended, all his duties and mental sanity.
"Did you see the message on his phone, Geto?" a puff of smoke lazily comes out of Shokoâs curious mouth and Geto shrugs. "I saw that it was from (Y/N)." The black-haired snickers and everyone let out a unison, heavy sigh.
Gojo arrives in less time than is humanly possible at your apartment and without warning, not even a âhey, babeâ, or a: âI just teleported myself into your room, hope you donât mindâ. You are dragged by your tall and strong boyfriend, special grade sorcerer and stripped of your top.
"S-Satoru, baby?"
You try to figure out what has him so bristled and with the delicacy of a saint but the curiosity of a child, he yanks your bra up, your delicious breast spills from underneath and his tattooed lips greet him.
"Shit!" is the first word you hear him say and it's almost a painful pant. "Those are my lips, aren't they? This is why you asked me to kiss that paper using the lipstick-...." he sounds accusatory but also incredibly excited.
You nod and let out a sigh that you didn't know were holding. "Phew! When you didnât answer my text, I thought you didn't like it-"
"Not like it..." he sounds almost offended, and your bra is discarded when he pushes you on your back in the bed. "Not like it?! I love it! I want to eat you whole, (Y/N), I'm only holding back because I need to ask something first."
Being pinned down by his weight and his gentle hands on either side of your jaw, Gojo steals the little space and whispers his question against your ear. "Are you still sensitive from the tattoo, or can I give you a new one with the original source?"Â
He kisses your earlobe playfully, and you canât help but giggle dumbly, as you can't help your voice from shaking with excitement. "Iâm not made of sugar-"
You can't even finish the sentence when his lips begin the endless and shameless work of awakening every nerve ending in your skin, the desperation palpable in the white-haired sorcerer as every piece of clothing is torn from your body and his and discarded on the floor as impure.
Purple mockeries of your tattoo in the form of hickeys adorn every patch of your sensitive neck like a new necklace, small bites from the small curve of your shoulder to the sinful curve of your waist, nipples swollen and perked from the greedy skating of his tongue on them. Gojo is not being rough, but he is not being gentle either, he is brutal in his advance but methodical and careful that your moans do not change tone.
"I'm going to tattoo myself on you from the inside out," his warn is muffled against your breast as his mouth devours the plump peak of flesh. Paying special attention to pressing his lips against your tattoo over and over and over again, as if certifying its authenticity and quality. The silhouette was exact, the perfect shape of his greedy lips. It was an almost erotic sight for him.
"Huh?"
"Sure,â he chuckled low before keep going, âwhite ink specially made for you. You'll see, Iâm an awesome artist," having you panting, sweating and squirming isnât enough for him. Oh no! he needs more, Satoru Gojo claims for something more permanent than a mere tattoo. "...My tattoos last nine months inside, and eighteen years outside, they talk and call you mommy, Iâm that talented, sweets" tangled between his muscular limbs, your new resting place, he does whatever the fuck he wants with you.Â
You feel the massive shape of his warm cock against your thigh, heâs been pumping himself no end, not letting you touch him not letting you aid him for fear of wasting his first load, that tasty, thick load he's been preparing especially for you. The mere graze of your fingers on him will be his end, he knows it, so he wonât ask nor accept your help, even when he longs to wrap your fist around his throbbing cock, desperate to help relieve the burning ache deep in his gut. Or better yet, wrap your perfect mouth around his cock and suck him offâ NO! he nowâs not the time for him to be negligent.Â
Once loaded, abandons his quest for relief and rests his warm palm on your belly massaging it as if molding it to fit something of his, while the other keeps playing with your cunt, enjoying the way you suck his fingers deeper when he turns his attention back to your poor, neglected clit.Â
âI never thought someone would be able to awaken my paternal instinct-... did my clan hire you, sweets?â he scoffed, playfully. He can tell that youâre close, not just from the needy moans and whimpers but the way your muscles are tensing and spasming around his digits. The desperate rocking of your hips against his palm, as a firm beg for relief.
âIt's just a tattoo....â
âNa ah!â His hand continues playing with your tummy, your navel, the curve of your waist almost obsessively while his tongue makes out with the curve of your neck. âThis was your way of telling me that you want me forever..." long finger prod at your gummy walls, searching for that hidden blessed spot thatâs gonna make you go wildâ
"Let me show you how gifted I am, my sweet girl..."Â
He finds it in matter of seconds, and you lose all kind of restriction and complaint and Gojo canât help but smirk against your neck as you tighten and quiver around his digits. Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck, his thumb pressed over your clit, flicking at the sensitive pearl as he suckles a deep purple hickey on the skin. Long, thick fingers guiding you through madness with each and every stroke, itâs too much for your poor, oversensitive body to handle.
"Y-Yes, Satoru, shown me, fill me, mark me-⊠do whatever the fuck you want-"
You convulse in the spare seconds of glorious pleasure before cumming with a strangled shriek, and Gojoâs groan muffles against your skin when can finally sink in one roll of his hips, feeding you that fat cock heâs been pumping to the edge just for this exact moment, buries deep inside you, kissing your cervix in that one thrust of raw meat. With an animalistic grunt, spills his soul inside your womb, pouring every last drop of cum he's been cooking in those heavy balls until he empties himself, flooding your inside with his gifted seed. A rush of juices gushes from your trembling cunt onto your connected lower halves, and you feel and hear him pant like a dog next to your ear, as both come down from the high.Â
"Am I your favorite tattoo artist or what?"
CLICK HERE FOR THE NSFW ART FOR THIS DRABBLE đ„”
NANAMI KENTO
He's stoic and serious, almost unmoving in his unflappable staring as you lift your shirt so he can see your new tattoo. His silent disposition is starting to make you more than a little nervous, since you know that Nanami Kento isn't exactly a crazy animal, but rather, a calm and quiet being who hides a wild side that he only shares with those closest to him. Making you wonder if you fall into that category or not, as his silence as he inspects the tattoo of his lips under your boob is virtually killing you with anxiety.
"Those are your lips, my love." You explain again, even though you've already done it three times, and you receive the same âmphmâ sound he made the first three times.Â
"Remember? -⊠remember when I ask you to kiss a paper?"
"I do."
"Well, I gave that to the tattoo artist, and he made it a stencil in red and then I ask him to put it right under my boob...?"
"I see."
Those calm eyes, analyze from every possible angle the tattoo of his lips on your skin, it had never been so difficult for you to read your boyfriend. "Do you like it, do you hate it? Tell me anything, Kento."
Silence and more close observation.
You close your eyes, squeezing your eyelids shut as you take that deep breath of air, you need so much, and you are about to demand an answer when you feel it...
Your eyelids suddenly open looking down and there you find him: Your stoic, boyfriend, the sensible and calm man who is always in control, kneeling in front of you while pressing his lips against your tattoo, the round softness of your boob loses its shape momentarily as the blond pushes his face more firmly against the plump skin. The most unexpected kiss that you have ever shared and for some reason, the most erotic, too.
"K-Ken?"
"Did it hurt?" he asks suddenly from his kneeling position and the threat of you stuttering makes you just shake your head. Nanami steals another kiss against the softness of your breast like he canât have enough of the sensation. "Are you sure it doesn't hurt?"
You nod, mesmerized by the sudden attention this blond showers you with, his hands caressing your bare back from top to bottom, slow and gentle with the tips of his fingers, it's delicious and it melts away the anxiety you may have been feeling, now, malleable in his hands. You let his face sink further into the curve of the tattoo of his lips and you moan his name as if you want to taste it rolling down your tongue.
"Nanami."
"... Do you still have the lipstick?"
"Huh?" That request brings you out of your reverie a little, and you look at him with some confusion, to which he smiles, that smile that makes you weak in the knees. "Y-Yes, it's in my purse."
"Lend it to me, darling."
With his palm splayed wide open he waits for you to hand over the lipstick. Digging for the cosmetic, he waits patiently until it's resting in his open hand and before you can air your doubts, he stands up, lifting you into his arms to take you with him, those muscular limbs feel like the safest place in the world and you nuzzle your nose into his neck to breathe in his scent combined with his cologne, and itâs intoxicating, so much so that you almost miss his next question.
âIâd like to suggest a few other places where my lips would look just as amazing on your body.â
âKento!â you startle, itâs adorable to him and closing the distance, he presses his lips to yours, tasting, nibbing and licking as he carries you to his room. âYou take suggestions donât you, sweetie?âÂ
He chuckles at the flush growing wild on your cheeks, and you feel the softness of the mattress on your back as he sets you down with the care of a saint, before beginning to loosen his tie and unbutton his shirt. Your body shivers in anticipation and his lips curve up into the cheekiest grin youâve ever seen him make, his large hand reaching out one elegant finger towards you and beckoning you with it.Â
Youâre on your knees in front of him in seconds, his knuckles running down the length of your jaw in a silky caress that has you purring like a kitten, leaning into his touch. That smile only stretches further, as your eyes flutter shut and you feel the greedy grip on his lips, hunting for another kiss.Â
Unfortunately, it ends too soon, and your mouth holds that pouty shape that demands another sweet kiss, but instead of his fleshy lips, you feel the creamy slick of lipstick painting your lips.
âTell me, (Y/N),â Nanami is delighted with how docile you are to him as he finishes painting your lips red, and itâs the sound of his pants zipper coming down that catapults your eyes open, âwhat would you think of me tattooing your lips right here?â
His finger points along his defined obliques and your mouth waters, this man was sincerely praised by the gods themselves, every muscle in his abdomen defined, those deep lines going down to his crotch giving that âvâ shape to his torso, that sinful path of golden hair that disappears under his trousers. It's too much for you.
"I think I need to see what it looks like first and then I can give you an informed answer, Kento."
His broad chest rises and falls violently, sweat runs down his forehead and his cheeks are an explosion of color. This is your masterpiece. Nanami Kentoâs fat cock fits with effort in your mouth, but you certainly do your best to get it to touch the back of your throat with every thrust, you can feel him getting close, his thighs tremble under your hands, his forearm covers his eyes, his cheeks are about to explode⊠heâs too close, and your tongue curling around the tip doesnât help him resist, you suck him off for over ten minutes and youâre proud of that pleasurable ache in your jaw when he comes shamelessly hard at the back of your throat and your name rips through his esophagus as it echoes through the walls of his apartment. Eventually, his hand stops keeping your head pressed against his pelvis, and with a wet pop, his still semi-erect cock hangs in front of your face, lubed in your saliva.
âYouâre right, I think it would look nice.â
You tell him, admiring the lipstick residue that adorns the shape of his cock and balls, a crimson kiss near the base, another at the shiny, cum-dripping tip, another resting on the roundness of his coarse balls, and you love the whole image. You want a fucking mural in your living room with this image.
âHell no,â the blonde says breathlessly, barely trying to recover from your masterful blowjob, ââŠno needle is going to touch me down there,â he threatens playfully but serious enough, âif you like the way it looks, youâre going to have to paint it yourself every time.â
A giggle escapes your mouth, red lipstick smeared on your lips as you grin evilly at him.Â
âYou have yourself a deal, baby."
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CHOSO KAMO
Choso can't control where the blood goes since, he met you, his cursed technique is out of control. That damn tattoo of his lips on the curve of your under-boob is driving him crazy, he thinks of it and the blood goes down to his crotch. He thinks of you and the blood makes a tent in his pants.
It's a mess that he's had to control with shameful continuous masturbation sessions. Jerking himself off, over and over, with your name as a mantra and the image of his lips tattooed on your breast as his banner.
"Shit, just go away."Â
He murmurs with a tight voice, while his fist milks his fat cock in fast and violent motions, his flesh swollen painfully for more than an hour, he doesn't want you to come home from work and find him touching himself, he doesn't want you to find out that he lost control of his cursed technique. He had to lower himself to watching porn, something he had never done before, but it was of no use. So, he put on cream and although it had relieved him on other occasions, this time wasn't working its charm. Fuck! Pleaaaase-... maybe he needs more cream to slide better? No, no matter how much cream he spreads on it never compares even a little to your tight, little pussy.Â
And it is the desperation, that he is running out of time that drives him to this miserable act. He takes, that one photo he treasures so much, out of the frame and places it between his fingers, his excitement growing as he looks at it, it is working. He beats his piece of swollen flesh more eagerly, grunting and growling like a dying animal, Fuck! he's close...his eyes close in concentration and his hand increases speed and pressure as his mouth hangs open⊠almost there, he can feel his balls tensing and tightening, so close, just a few more pumps, a couple more strokes, a little more pressure, almost there⊠his guts tighten and his brain enraptures in the moment forgetting to mind his surroundings, to enjoy the divine sensation that grows and grows and grows and FUCK!-
Choso Kamo cums, hard and heavy, rope after rope of creamy cum shoots out of the head of his cock like a mockery of how blood usually does when he uses his cursed technique, the pressurized jet of creamy juice spills out and doesn't finish pouring for about a minute straight. Once his balls are an empty, trembling sack, Choso can breathe again, his sweaty and naked torso rises and falls with violence that calms down the more air he sucks, the sweat begins to dry on his skin and his cheeks feel less hot. This was what he needed, the photo helped him a lot, although he can feel how he bathed it in cum, he can fix it quickly, clean every single trail of his sin before you get home-
"C-Choso?"
His hand, which was riding out the last few strokes of pleasure on his ultra-sensitive cock freezes and his eyes snap open to find you staring at the mess he is, just what he wanted to avoid, damn it! -
"B-Baby, I-" he starts to stutter and stops abruptly when his eyes register what he did.
Your cheeks are painted a deep red but that's to be expected, what's not to be expected are the cum globes that slide down your pretty face, down your cheeks, varnishing your eyelashes and part of your eye, messing up your perfect hairdo, staining your work uniform. Choso enraptured himself so much in his own fantasy that he didn't notice when you walked through the door, or when you approached him.
Now, he has no idea how to begin to apologize, the words are stuck in his dry throat. Are you angry? Are you furious with him? Your beautiful eyes only watch him, better said, ogle him: pants pooling at his ankles, shirt bunched up to his neck, his cock limp but slowly filling with blood again between his trembling fingers, the cockhead shiny and pink and still, spewing cum to further mortify him.Â
Choso is paralyzed, unable to move and his mouth barely managing to open to spit out any explanation, snaps shut again from the shame that crushes him.
But that shame turns to bewilderment when his eyes catch the subtle movement of your hand gathering a glob of his cum that slides down your cheek, with all the delicacy and grace that define you, and you play with it for a second between your fingers before opening your mouth and dipping the digits between your tongue. Choso's jaw drops to the floor and his breathing hastens again, his cursed technique going out of control once more, summoning blood to that still throbbing and extra-sensitive part.
Your pretty lips curve into a feline grin that makes him feel like your prey, and he swallows hard, clenching his fists to keep his body from shaking, when his eyes meet yours.
âIs this what you do when I go to work, sweetheart?â you ask, licking your lips to collect the cum resting there, âyou jerk off while looking at my graduation picture?â a flirtatious giggle escapes you when you specify, â...same picture where your little brother is, too, how dirty.â
Choso is a bundle of nerves, blood just keeps pooling where it shouldnât, heâs so hard and swollen that your eyes drop there almost automatically.
âIâll take care of cleaning everything-âÂ
You interrupt his apology, raising a finger to get his attention so he can see you, as you lift your pencil skirt up to your thighs and slowly settle yourself comfortably on top of his lap, nestling his cock between your warm stockinged thighs. Choso shivers and carefully as if asking for permission, let his large hands slide down those wide, inviting thighs.Â
ââŠHow about you start by cleaning me up first?â Your warm hand tangles around his firm erection and he growls low, âThen you get me dirty again,â you slide those fingers up and down on his stiffness in shameless incitement and smile when notice his eyes roll back his skull, âand we repeat it all until dawn.â
âYesyesyesyesyes, whatever my girl wants-âŠâ the words rush from his mouth, ââŠjust one request,â an eyebrow rises on your face, and he grins, warm and almost, shyly. âMay I see the tattoo of my lips again?â
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SUGURU GETO
âDo you⊠Do you really like it, Suguru?â You ask, lolling your head forward and humming when his fingers slowly travel up and unclasp your bra, the last barrier you have left to cover yourself. Every little breathy sound you make comes ragged and soiled with a mix of uncertainty and excitement.
âWay too much, baby,â his low voice carefully admits from above you. âI donât know why you hid it from me in the first place. Donâtâdonât do that. You donât have to. EVER.â
Your breathing keeps picking up when he keeps trailing his hands around either side of your now naked torso, running the tips of his fingers down your ribs and slowly tracing the curve of your breast, letting the pads of his fingers memorize the shape of his tattooed lips on your skin.
âTake off the rest of your clothes,â Suguru whisper, quite suddenly emboldened by his growing need. The gentle caresses pause at the very top of perked nipple, holding there for a second while he seems to think about it. âPlease, donât make me repeat myself.â
Soon his touch lifts away and he appreciates the sound your hands make, as those little limbs make haste in follow his request, the muffled shuffling of fabric being stripped of your skin somewhere close by and the soft noise it makes dropping to the floor, close to erotic to the first-grade sorcerer. And then suddenlyâ
âOh, Godââ you breathe, nearly melting into the seat of his school office when large, warm palms meet your skin and slowly start to ride the curve of your neck and collarbone downwards. Dammit, why does it feel so good?  Suguru Geto smirks, like the knowing devil that he is. âDo my hands feel amazing, baby? Itâs just two palms, ten fingers-â
 ââŠ. But theyâre so strong and raspy and bigâŠ.â Your mouth babbles unrestrainedly, âtouch me more, GetoâŠ.â
One palm butterfly out across your breast and you moan, lewdly loud. âIf Director Yaga hears, Iâm going to be so fired, pretty.â
âS-SorryâŠâÂ
Dipping and squeezing the soft, pillowy flesh of your boobs, Suguru Geto stares down at you, drinking every emotion and expression he can rip out of you. âHoâfuck, like that.â Your approval is everything to him.
âI know,â Suguru murmurs, his voice ocean-deep and scraping across the shell of your eager ear when he leans closer from his privileged height to press one bended knee to the chair, right in between your thighs. He lets one hand drift down into the space he created and rub circles on the moist mound of flesh there, as his other hand comes up to cradle your chin, urging you to stretch your neck up and long for him. âYou look so pretty like thisâ all naked and horny for me.â
âSomeone might come in, lock the doorâŠâ you breathe in protest, remembering your shy nature, and he ignores you, slowly dragging his palm down your trembling slit.
âYou don't get a tattoo as sensual as that, if you don't want everyone to drool after you,â he says, and youâre helpless to stop the embarrassing way your knees suddenly jerk farther apart when his hand moves to press a fat finger on your clit. â⊠Showing all the monkeys how sexy you are, and then showing them that you belong ONLY to me.â Â
And then he squeeeezes your bundle of nerves, and your hips nearly come off the seat with it.
Nothing else exists besides your boyfriendâs pair of hands now gripping the bottom of the chair, to position your body closer to him. You hear yourself take exactly one shaky breath before his arms suddenly slithered under your knees, hauling you forward. Your lower back dips in at the angle, your pelvis now jutted out and propped up by the edge of the seat. Â
Suguru Geto licks his lips as if he as if a banquet were being presented to him and the following is him lowering himself to the floor in front of you, running those deliciously strong palms up the length of your thighs. Your new position encourages you to spread your legs wider for him.
âI think my lips, tattooed here,â his long, cascading loose hair caresses the inner skin of your thighs as he leans down to the lower curve of your tummy and places a soft, warm kiss, âwould look great, as well.â
âY-You think?âÂ
Your quivering lips exhale at the feeling of his hot, plump lips meeting your feverish skin, and hearing the sound of his breath hitch at the visual you give him, goosebumps spread all youâre your body. Â
âI know it,â He promises, opening you up wider, subtly moving himself closer into the gap and letting you cradle his torso with your knees.
âMine to feast on, mine to pamper,â the special grade sorcerer rumbles quietly, his grip on your thighs tightening as he licks his lips, hungrier. âSo, mine toâŠÂ own.â
ââŠ.-Own?â
And then youâre abruptly cut off by your own gasp when a soft, dexterous tongue slowly envelopes your clit. His lips slick between your folds as his rogue tongue flicks out like hot velvet to flutter greedily over your clit, humming low in his throat as he eats you with unreserved gluttony.
âFuck, this is heaven. This is fucking heaven,â he rumbles against your sloppy pussy, âmy sweet girl laying with her legs open and letting me eat her after Iâm done giving classesââŠ.â Â
âSu-SuguâŠÂ oh, fuckââ Your words are barely discernible through the pleasure, deformed by the sound of your breaths and gasps. âDoâDo you think someone can h-hear us?â
Suguru smirk is swallow by your folds and his snicker muffled by his need to keep eating you to even let you know that a six eyes user had been spying from the other side of the door since you started.Â
âNoones at the school at these hours but us teachers, baby. Donât worry your pretty head.âÂ
His fingers curl against your thighs, his tongue swirling gentle circles around your swollen clit as he sinks two of his thick fingers deep inside your cunt. Both of your hands thrust out without thinking and snatch at his loose raven mane, fingers burying themselves into thick waves of hair. âOhâf-fuckââ
He makes a rough little growl into your warmth every time you tug on his hair, and you tug every time, he pulls his fingers out and then pushes them back in again, until it becomes a vicious circle where both do that steadily, over and over until youâre sweating, hips arching up and doing everything you can to entice him to hurry the fuck up.
Suguru snickers again at your impatience, instead, heâs unbelievably slow, continuing to lick his hot tongue through your folds as his eager finger fuck you, so utterly patient and steadfast, learning the right notes to drive you crazy.
âYou are close, arenât you, dove?â he flicks that wicked tongue applying more pressure to your abused clit, âsomethingâs beginning to burn in your core, I can see the cursed energy spreading threateningly along the muscles in your pelvis.â Suguru narrated what he felt with his own cursed energy, without a doubt the out-looker seeing the same as he was, just in HD. âIt rises through your abdomen like unstoppable wave, seeps down into your knees and wraps around them. Your breathing is getting shallower, the base of your lungs suddenly feels too cramped by the oncoming explosion. I know, baby, just let it happen, donât hold back. You can squirt on my face. Iâm eager for you to baptize me on your fountain of loveââ Â
âStop it, Suguru⊠Iâm-Iâm notâŠ. I will notâŠ.âÂ
Your resistance is nothing but amusing to him, this is your nemesis. You hate how sensitive you are, how easy your boyfriends read you and undoes you with his mere tongue, you hate that squirting jet that makes your toes curl and your eyes blank, but once itâs over, makes you very aware of the mess you made.
Suguru finally speeds up, and that rock steady display of ferocity makes you want to cry.
ââI-Iâm gonna cum,â you breathe, everything inside pulling up fierce and tight, your chest heaving and your grip in his hair turning to iron. ââOh, fuck, Iâm g-gonna cumâI-Iââ
A quiet mhmmm sound rumbles low in gentle encouragement, and then he takes a second to softly suck on your clit to push you over the edge. His fingers curl, press up hard against something absolutely fucking devastating inside you, Suguru Geto knows you so well is almost unfair, and bite your lip is all you can do to stifle a sob when your body suddenly erupts in searing burning ecstasy.
Your back arches and you cum in his mouth, wailing his name while he groans raggedly and drags you through it. Itâs hot and wet, in equal parts chaos and bliss. Youâre still trying to calm your breathing when a gentle softness presses against your lips, mindful of rewarding you with as much love as he can profess in one single, chaste kiss. Itâs over way too soon though, and by the time you open your eyes again, you blearily blink them at him. Heâs already standing, impeccable and not one strand of raven hair out of place. A swift smirk curving his lips while his stare never strays from your destroyed persona, heaving and sweating and naked in a public place. Fuck! He adores you so much.
âAre you hungry?â He eventually asks looking straight ahead instead of you, the low frequency of his natural voice not masked anymore by his arousal.
You blink up at him twice, still slouched over the seat butt-naked, trying to figure out who is he talking to, all your clothes spread around his desk and the floor when you hear some familiar voice answer from the other side of the door.
âStarving.â
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RYOMEN SUKUNA
The euphoric sway of his hips meeting yours should be an affront to the natural order, your boyfriend, Ryomen Sukuna, had been maintaining the same rhythm, precision and firmness in each thrust for more than forty minutes.Â
You are cockdrunk, you donât remember your own name, only his. Which comes out of your trembling lips in pieces or unfinished syllables. Your mind is a mess, a rabid mess of hormones and pleasure, but your insides are the most affected, making you endure mini-orgasm after mini-orgasm that shake your frame violently, leaving all your muscles exhausted and sweaty. Breathing ragged, face pressed against the sheets of his bed and your wrists swallowed by his large hands against the firm mattress, while he introduced you again and again to your new deity, his thick cock, which seemed just as hard and ready to continue making a mess of you.Â
ââŠIâm sure youâll think twice about pulling a stunt like that again now, wonât you, princess?â
Although his voice was breathless, it was still firm and solid, not like your pathetic moans.
âIâŠI thought youâd-âŠthat youâd like it, Kuna-...â That sentence trailed from your half-open lips, between a sigh and a moan as he changed the angle to hit that spot of nerves inside you that made you see stars.
âI know you meant well but it was still unacceptable,â your boyfriend scolds you again, and a delicious shiver runs down your spine as his hands abandons your wrists in order to better hook on either side of your hip. The mere sensation of his thick fingers digging into your soft skin makes you cum again. "Fuck- you squeeze me so good, baby..." he praises, plunging his massive cock deeper into your quivering hole just to draw out more sensations, "-.... shit! If I cum again, are you going to keep it warm for me inside your tummy, princess?"
"Kuna, yes, always..." you moan into the sheets miserably, "don't stay mad at me, please, my love-"
"I loved the tattoo of my lips on your under-boob, don't doubt that" he affirms, firm thrusts clapping his midsection with yours, like giving his stamina a cheer. "But I HATED the fact that some guy had to do it. Don't you know any female tattoo artists, Isn't this the era of women's empowerment?"
You crawl forward and he catches you before you can shift positions. "Kuna, baby... let me ride you, so I can control the speed... I can't cum again-"
"I. Don't. care." He replies, skewering you again on his veiny, thick piece of meat that still feels like stone. "I'll put it in you as fast as I want and as long as I want until you learn your lesson-"
"Which is?"
"You, cocky little thing." He chuckles and emphasizes each word with a thrust. "Nobody. Touches. You. But. ME! Just ME."
âMine.â Thrust, âMine~â thrust, thrust, thrust, âMINE.â Thrustthrustthrustthrustthrustthrustâ
Sukuna doesnÂŽt hold himself back, even after he comes for the sixth time, he keeps going.
Slipping in and out of you, still rock hard, twisting you uncaringly in all kinds of positions and surfaces that his room provides, just fucking his cum inside you with every unpunished thrust.
You are tired, you are actually exhausted, you are emotional-... and you are drained.
ââI'm yours, just yours... hands off, w-world.... just y-yours~â
His hips stop, finally halting all movement when you give him what he's looking for, he just wants to hear that over and over again from your quivering lips and raspy throat, he just wants you to say it again. Maybe you should tattoo that as well.
Making you come one last glorious and almost painful time. Your naked body is left, used, sweaty and worn but warmly and safely wrapped in his arms. A huge smirk on his lips before he kisses your eyelids, so you open them again and once again you do.
"Now that we got that out of the way, let me see it again..." Sukuna asks, gently squeezing your tattooed boob inside his large palm, letting his eyes scan each patch of skin and how well he marked you with little hints of hickeys and teeth. "...I think we can play twister with every mark I left on your body," he snickers amused, "...but let's start with those lips on your breast."
âJerk.â
He grins, satisfied. Hugging you harder to plaster your form closer to him, squeezing that sassy grin out of your pretty face.
CLICK HERE FOR THE NSFW ART FOR THIS DRABBLE đ„”
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i love you, in every time àżâ§â 1854 - could it be love?
chapter summary: You meet Logan, a young man who is briefly stopping by in New York City. Despite both of your better judgments, you quickly realize that perhaps there's nothing wrong with falling in love.
word count: 22.2k+
pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader
notes: ahh!! welcome to this new series! i'm very excited to start this journey with all of y'all! just a note, when i say 'character death(s)' in the warnings it means that reader is going to die at the end of every chapter. that's the entire premise of this series, which was inspired by the 11th doctor and clara (iykyk). but first, we have a lot of time to cover before we even reach the first x-men movie so strap in!
i also didn't mean for this to be as long as it is, oops
warnings/tags: fluff, angst, outdated mindsets on women, slow burn, illness, character deaths
series masterlist â chapter 2
You didnât necessarily love your job, but it was better than other options available for you. You grumbled to yourself as you walked down the sidewalk of New York City, horses neighing and wheels rattling on the brick street.
The bonnet on your head protected you from the sun beating down, keeping you from further heat in your dress. You had many things to do while you were out, get the children some new clothes and toys, buy some groceries, and buy some extra cloth for when you eventually had to sew their clothing.
As you passed by a small shop, you paused, peering in through the window. A few wooden toys sat on the shelf inside, simple and sturdy. Perfect for the boys. You pushed the door open, a little bell jingling as you entered, and you made your way toward the display.
"Can I help you, miss?" The shopkeeperâs voice startled you, but you smiled politely.
"Just looking for some toys," you replied, eyes scanning the shelves.
As you picked up a carved wooden horse, the door opened again behind you, letting in a bit of fresh air and a manâs heavy footsteps. You didnât pay it much mind until you felt a presence nearby, a little too close for comfort. You turned slightly, catching sight of a tall man with dark hair and an unshaven face, dressed in a rough shirt and worn pants, a bit out of place among the polished streets of the city.
He glanced your way, his sharp eyes catching yours for a brief moment before he looked back to the shelves.
Something about him felt differentâdangerous, but not in the way that made you want to run. More like it pulled you in, made you curious.
You turned back to the toys, but your mind kept wandering back to the stranger standing nearby. You couldnât help but glance his way again.
"Those are good for little ones," the man said, his voice rough but casual. He nodded at the toy horse in your hand. "They hold up well. Tougher than they look."
You raised an eyebrow, surprised by his sudden comment. "You have experience with them?"
His lips twitched, almost a smile. "A bit. Used to make âem myself."
You looked him over more closely now, intrigued. "You donât seem like the toy-making type."
His eyes flicked to yours, something amused in the way he looked at you. "Not anymore," he said, then turned his attention back to the shelves.
There was a silence between you for a moment, but it didnât feel awkward. If anything, it felt like he didnât mind you being there, like he was used to people drifting in and out of his space.
You finally spoke again. "I suppose these are sturdy enough for two boys, then."
"Yeah. Theyâll survive a beating."
You laughed, the sound surprising you. He gave you another look, a bit more interested this time. There was something about him that made you feel seen in a way that was different from how most men looked at you.
You gathered a few more toys, careful not to spend too much, but you couldnât resist getting something extra for the little girl you looked after. She was sweet, and it wasnât her fault she was stuck in such a strict household.
The stranger watched you with those sharp eyes, like he could see more than what was right in front of him. You wondered what his story was, but you werenât about to ask.
As you headed to the counter, he followed, though he didnât buy anything. The shopkeeper took your coins, and you gathered your parcels, still feeling the manâs presence behind you.
"Thanks for the advice," you said over your shoulder, more as a courtesy than anything else.
He nodded, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "Anytime."
With that, you left the shop, stepping back into the sunlight, the weight of your errands still on your shoulders. But as you walked away, you couldnât help but feel like something had shifted. Like maybe that wasnât the last time youâd see him.
---
Edwin and Phillip seemed to enjoy the toy you got them, already fighting over who gets to play with it first. They were the eldest, Edwin was 9, Phillip was 7, and Ada was 6. You handed her the toy you got for her, one she got to keep all to herself.
Ada's face lit up when you handed her the small, carved doll. She held it in her hands gently, like it was the most precious thing in the world.
"For me?" she asked, her voice soft with disbelief.
You smiled and nodded. "Just for you, Ada."
Her eyes sparkled, and she hugged the doll to her chest. "Thank you!"
Edwin and Phillip were already in the middle of their tug-of-war with the wooden horse, the two boys shouting over whose turn it was.
"I had it first!" Edwin argued, pulling the toy toward him.
"You always get it first!" Phillip shot back, his voice growing louder.
You sighed and stepped in, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. "Why don't you take turns? If you can't share, I'll have to take it away, and no one gets to play with it."
They both groaned but reluctantly agreed, setting the horse on the floor. Edwin was a bit of a handful, but he could be sweet when he wanted to be. Phillip, the quieter one, usually followed his brotherâs lead. At least Ada wasnât much trouble.
After helping Ada settle in with her new toy, you turned to check on the boys, making sure they hadnât already forgotten your words. But as you did, your thoughts drifted back to the man in the shop. There was something about himâsomething that lingered in your mind even now. He didnât fit in with the usual crowd you saw around here, but he didnât seem bothered by that.
It was odd, though, that someone like him would be in a toy shop of all places. You tried to shake the thought away, but it kept creeping back, a sense that your brief encounter meant more than it appeared.
Later, after the children had settled down, you found yourself with a rare quiet moment. You sat by the window, staring out at the street below, watching the people passing by. The day was winding down, the sky fading into hues of orange and pink, and yet, the manâs sharp eyes lingered in your mind.
You shook your head, scolding yourself for thinking too much about a stranger. It was just a passing momentânothing more. You had far more important things to focus on, like taking care of the children and making sure everything ran smoothly for the household. That man, whoever he was, wasnât part of your world.
But still, something in the back of your mind whispered that youâd see him again. And the thought of it didnât exactly bother you.
---
The next few days were a blur of your usual routine. The children kept you busy, and you barely had a moment to yourself. But even as you went through the motions of your daily life, you couldn't help but feel that sense of somethingâor someoneâwaiting.
It was on a brisk afternoon, a few days after your encounter at the shop, when you found yourself running errands again. The streets were busier than usual, with carriages clattering over the cobblestones and people bustling past in a hurry. You had a long list of things to pick up, and the thought of weaving through the crowded market already had you dreading the trip.
As you made your way through the streets, you spotted a familiar figure standing at the corner near a fruit stand. The man from the shop. He hadnât seen you yet, but something about the way he stood, slightly apart from the rest of the crowd, watching the passersby with a quiet intensity, made you pause.
You debated for a moment. Should you approach him? Or would it seem too forward?
Before you could decide, his gaze lifted, and he spotted you. His eyes narrowed, a flicker of recognition passing over his features, but he didnât move. He just stood there, watching you.
You took a deep breath and made your way over, your curiosity getting the better of you.
"Fancy seeing you here again," you said, trying to sound casual as you approached.
"Didnât expect to run into you either," he replied, his voice still rough, but there was a hint of something in his tone. Amusement? Interest? You couldnât quite place it.
"I was just running errands," you said, gesturing to the market behind you. "You know how it is."
He nodded, his eyes flicking over you for a moment before landing back on the crowd. "Yeah, I get it."
There was a beat of silence, but it wasnât uncomfortable. In fact, it almost felt... familiar. Like talking to him wasnât so strange after all.
"Are you from around here?" you asked, breaking the silence.
He shook his head. "Not really. Just passing through."
"Do you always pass through toy shops when you're in town?"
His lips quirked into that almost-smile again. "Only when I feel like it."
You couldnât help but chuckle. "Mysterious, arenât you?"
He shrugged, not giving much away. "Maybe."
You were about to ask him something else when a shout came from behind you. You turned to see one of the street vendors, an older man, calling out angrily at a young boy who had clearly tried to swipe an apple from his cart.
Before you could even react, the man next to you stepped forward. His movements were quick and fluid, like he was used to handling situations like this. He reached the boy before the vendor could get too close, gripping the kid by the collar.
"Hey," the man said, his voice low but firm. "Thatâs not how you do things."
The boy froze, wide-eyed, clearly not expecting to be caught so quickly.
"Put it back," the man ordered.
The boy, trembling slightly, dropped the apple back onto the cart. "Iâm sorry!" he blurted out before scurrying off into the crowd.
You watched as the man exchanged a few words with the vendor, calming him down before he turned back to you, his expression unreadable.
"You didnât have to do that," you said, surprised by how quickly he had handled the situation.
He shrugged again. "The kidâll learn his lesson. Better this way than the other options."
You looked at him, a little more curious now. He wasnât just some rough-around-the-edges stranger. There was something deeper to him, something that made you want to know more.
âI donât think I caught your name the other day,â you settled on, meeting his eyes as the energy of the crowd buzzed around you both.
He gave a small nod, like he was considering whether to answer or not. "Logan," he said simply.
"Logan," you repeated, trying the name on your tongue. It suited him, rough around the edges but solid. "Iâm Y/N."
His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he gave another slight nod, acknowledging it. The silence between you wasnât heavy, but it felt like something unspoken passed through the space. Something that told you he wasnât just another passerby in your life.
"Thanks for helping that kid back there," you said, breaking the quiet. "Not everyone would step in like that."
Logan shrugged like it was nothing, his eyes scanning the crowd again. "Not a big deal."
You tilted your head slightly, studying him. "You do that a lot? Play the hero?"
A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, barely there, but it was enough. "No. Just don't like seeing people get hurt when I can do something about it."
There was a gruffness to his words, but it didnât feel forced. It felt real. And it was clear that he wasnât the type to go around explaining himself to anyone. You liked that.
"Well, either way, it was good of you." You glanced down at the parcels in your arms, suddenly remembering the rest of your errands. "I should probably get going, before Iâm late getting back."
Logan gave you a small nod, his eyes flicking down to your parcels. "You take care."
You hesitated, a part of you not wanting to walk away just yet. But what could you say? You didnât know this man, not really, and yet you felt drawn to him in a way that was hard to explain. Maybe it was the way he carried himself, like he had been through more than he let on. Or maybe it was the quiet strength in him that made you feel oddly safe.
"Maybe Iâll see you around?" you offered, not wanting to make the goodbye feel so final.
Loganâs eyes met yours again, and for a moment, there was something softer in his gaze. "Yeah. Maybe."
With that, you gave him a small smile and turned to leave, weaving your way through the bustling street. As you walked, you couldnât help but glance back once, just to see if he was still there. He was, standing where you left him, watching you go.
---
The following days fell back into your usual routineâtaking care of the children, running errands, keeping the household in order. Yet, no matter how busy you were, your thoughts kept drifting back to Logan. Something about him lingered in your mind, and it wasnât just because he had helped out that kid. There was something deeper, something you couldnât quite shake.
You found yourself wondering if he really was just passing through, or if there was more to his story than he was letting on. You didnât know why it mattered so much, but it did.
One afternoon, as you were helping Ada tie the ribbon on her new dress, she looked up at you with her big, curious eyes.
"Y/N, are you thinking about something?" she asked innocently.
You blinked, surprised. "Why do you ask?"
"Because youâre smiling," she said, her voice soft and sweet.
You hadnât even realized. "Oh," you said, chuckling softly. "I guess I was just lost in thought."
Ada giggled, her small hands playing with the ribbon you had just tied. "You think about a lot of things."
"Thatâs because I have to keep track of all you rascals," you teased, tickling her side gently.
She squealed in delight, wriggling away from you, and you couldnât help but laugh. But as you settled back into the moment, that same thought returned, uninvited. Logan. Would you see him again?
---
It wasnât long before the answer came.
You were out in the market again, picking up some fresh bread for dinner. The smell of the bakery wafted through the air, warm and comforting. You had just handed over your coins to the baker when you felt that familiar presenceâsomething just outside the edge of your awareness, like a shadow that suddenly moved.
Turning slightly, your eyes caught sight of Logan standing near a fruit cart, his hands in his pockets, watching you. It wasnât a surprise this time, but your heart still gave a little flutter at the sight of him. You made your way over, the crowd parting as you walked.
"Logan," you greeted, a smile pulling at your lips before you could stop it.
"Y/N," he replied, nodding in acknowledgment. His expression didnât change much, but there was something almost... pleased in his eyes. Like he had expected you to come over.
"Still passing through?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.
He glanced around the busy street before answering. "Seems like Iâve been here longer than I planned."
"Any reason for that?" you asked, half-joking but also genuinely curious.
Logan looked at you for a long moment, like he was debating how much to say. Finally, he shrugged. "No reason."
You didnât believe him for a second, but you let it go. Instead, you gestured to the bread in your basket. "If youâre still around tomorrow, you should come by the park. I take the children there sometimes in the afternoons. Itâs quieter than here."
Loganâs eyes flicked to yours, considering. "Maybe I will."
You nodded, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction from his answer. It was small, but it was something.
"Well," you said, shifting the basket on your arm. "I should get back before the boys tear the house down."
Logan smirked at that, and you felt a warmth spread through you at the sight of it. He wasnât a man who smiled easily, but when he did, it felt like a reward.
"Take care," he said, his voice low and steady, and you couldnât help but notice how those words made you feel safe in a way you hadnât expected.
As you walked away, the warmth of his gaze stayed with you, lingering long after youâd turned the corner.
---
The next day, you found yourself at the park, just as you had promised. Edwin and Phillip were racing around, laughing as they chased each other, while Ada sat quietly by your side, her doll clutched in her hands.
You tried not to look around for Logan, but you couldnât help it. Every time someone passed by, your heart gave a little jump, only to settle back down when you realized it wasnât him.
Just as you were beginning to think he wouldnât show, you heard the sound of heavy footsteps approaching. You didnât need to look up to know who it was.
"Mind if I join you?" Loganâs voice was calm, but there was something in it that made you smile.
You glanced up, meeting his eyes. "Not at all."
Logan gave a nod, lowering himself onto the bench beside you. He stretched his long legs out, looking completely at ease. The sounds of the childrenâs laughter filled the air, and for a moment, you just sat in companionable silence.
âBoys giving you trouble?â he asked, his voice low and gravelly.
âThey always do,â you replied, watching as Edwin tackled Phillip to the ground. âBut I think theyâd explode if they didnât.â
Loganâs lips twitched at thatâalmost a smile. âKidsâll do that. Got too much energy.â
You tilted your head, studying him out of the corner of your eye. âYou got siblings?â
Logan paused for a second, like the question had caught him off guard. âYeah. A brother.â
You didnât press, sensing there was more to the story but knowing better than to pry. Instead, you turned your attention back to the children.
âDo you have any?â Logan asked, nodding toward the boys.
âNo,â you said, shaking your head. âI look after them for the family I work for. They keep me busy, though. Might as well be mine.â
He gave a soft grunt of acknowledgment, resting his elbows on his knees.
âAnd her?â Logan nodded toward Ada, who sat a little apart from the boys, her doll tucked protectively in her arms.
âThatâs Ada,â you said, smiling softly. âSheâs the quiet one. A little sweet thing, really.â
âSheâs got good taste,â Logan remarked, glancing at the doll in her hands.
You chuckled. âThat was the least I could do for her. Lifeâs not exactly fun in that house.â
Loganâs gaze flicked toward you, something unreadable in his expression. âIt never is.â
You frowned, catching the weight behind his words, but before you could ask what he meant, Ada wandered over to you. She gave Logan a curious glance but stayed close by your side.
âWhoâs he?â Ada whispered, gripping your sleeve.
You smiled. âThis is Logan. Heâs a friend.â
Logan gave her a small nod, and Ada, ever cautious, just stared at him with wide eyes. After a beat, she leaned in close to you and whispered, âHe looks like a bear.â
You triedâreally triedânot to laugh, but it slipped out anyway. Logan gave a low chuckle of his own, shaking his head slightly.
âSmart kid,â he murmured.
Ada, encouraged by your laughter, gave a shy smile. Then she wandered back toward the boys, apparently satisfied with Loganâs presence.
âSheâs got you figured out,â you teased, grinning.
Loganâs expression softened just a bit, and he gave a small shrug. âKids see things plain.â
You leaned back on the bench, letting yourself relax. It was strange, how easy it felt to be around him. You didnât know much about himâhardly anything, reallyâbut something about Logan made you feel like you didnât need to fill the silence with useless conversation.
âDo you ever stop moving?â you asked suddenly, curious. âYou said you were just passing through, but it seems like youâve stayed a bit longer.â
Logan didnât answer right away. He stared out at the park, his expression thoughtful.
âSometimes,â he said finally. âNot often, though.â
âThat sounds lonely.â
His jaw twitched slightly, and he turned his head to look at you. âYou get used to it.â
You held his gaze for a moment, sensing that there was more beneath the surface than he was letting on. But instead of prying, you just nodded, accepting his words for what they were.
âWell, if you ever feel like staying in one place for a bit, you know where to find me,â you said lightly.
Loganâs eyes flickered with somethingâsomething you couldnât quite nameâbut he gave a small nod, like he was filing that thought away.
âAppreciate it,â he murmured.
Before you could say more, Edwin and Phillip came barreling toward you, out of breath and covered in dirt.
âY/N! Y/N!â Edwin shouted. âPhillip said he could run faster than me, but I totally won!â
Phillip scowled, wiping mud off his cheek. âOnly because you pushed me.â
âYou pushed him?â you asked, raising an eyebrow at Edwin.
Edwin squirmed. âNot that hard.â
Logan snorted quietly, drawing both boysâ attention. They looked at him with wide, curious eyes.
âWhoâs that?â Edwin whispered loudly, leaning closer to you.
âThatâs Logan,â you said. âHeâs a friend.â
Edwin tilted his head, squinting up at Logan. âYou look tough.â
Loganâs lips twitched. âI get that a lot.â
âCan you fight?â Edwin asked eagerly, his eyes lighting up. âLikeâlike really fight?â
âEdwin!â you scolded, but Logan just gave a small chuckle.
âYeah,â Logan said. âA bit.â
âWhoa!â Edwinâs jaw dropped, clearly impressed. Phillip, more cautious, stayed quiet but kept his eyes on Logan like he was trying to figure him out.
âAlright, enough of that,â you said, gently ushering the boys away. âGo play before I make you help with dinner.â
Edwin groaned but dragged Phillip along, the two of them running back toward the trees.
You glanced at Logan, shaking your head. âYouâve got yourself some new fans, it seems.â
Logan huffed softly. âKids are alright.â
There was a pause, and then you asked quietly, âYou really do keep moving, donât you?â
Logan looked at you, his expression serious. âYeah.â
You bit your lip, unsure of what to say. There was something in his eyes that told you heâd seen more than mostâmore than you could probably imagine.
âWell,â you said softly, âif you ever get tired of running, you know where to find me.â
Logan held your gaze for a long moment, his eyes searching yours. Then, with the barest hint of a smile, he nodded.
âYeah,â he said quietly. âIâll keep that in mind.â
---
You saw Logan more often than not. Truth be told, you enjoyed his presence. He was different than the other men you had met, not as harsh, didnât look down on you, or see you as an object.
One day, while walking around the market with a small basket, filled with a few apples and some bread, you looked at a carriage, rolling along the brick road with a horse in front.
âI never learned how to ride a horse,â you said, glancing at the carriage as it rolled along the cobblestone street. The words came out before you even knew why you said them, maybe just filling the space between you and Logan.
Logan, walking beside you, gave you a sidelong glance. The faintest trace of a smirk played at the corner of his mouth. âThat right?â
You shrugged, shifting the basket in your hand. âNever had a reason to, I suppose. And itâs not exactly something you pick up living in the city.â
He made a low noise in his throat that could have been agreement. For a moment, the two of you walked in companionable silence, the sounds of the market buzzing around youâvendors calling out, the clip-clop of hooves, the soft rustle of autumn leaves underfoot.
âWouldnât take much to learn,â Logan said finally, his voice easy. âReckon youâd be good at it.â
You shot him a skeptical glance. âHow would you know?â
Logan gave a lazy shrug. âJust a guess.â
There was something in his tone, thoughâsomething soft and amused that made your cheeks warm. You glanced away, pretending to be very interested in a stall selling ribbons, though your attention kept drifting back to Logan.
âYou know how to ride, then?â you asked after a moment, keeping your tone casual.
He nodded. âYeah. Picked it up when I was a kid.â
You raised an eyebrow, curious despite yourself. âWhereâd you grow up?â
âHere and there,â he answered vaguely, though not unkindly. You got the sense that there was a lot more to the storyâthings he wasnât ready to share. And maybe things you werenât quite ready to ask about. Not yet, anyway.
âWould you teach me?â you asked on impulse, surprising even yourself.
Logan glanced over, one brow raised, and for a moment, you thought he might laugh. But he didnât. Instead, he gave a small nod, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
âSure,â he said simply.
A smile tugged at your lips before you could stop it.
âWhen?â you pressed, feeling strangely excited by the idea.
Logan thought for a moment, his gaze drifting toward the road ahead. âNext Sunday,â he decided. âThereâs a place just outside the city. I know a guy whoâs got a couple of good horses.â
You felt a flicker of doubtâafter all, you had responsibilities, and it wasnât as though you could just abandon the children for the day. But Logan must have noticed your hesitation because he gave you a reassuring look.
âBring the kids,â he offered. âThey can run wild while you learn.â
That made you laugh softly. âYou really think I can keep up with them and learn to ride a horse?â
Loganâs lips twitched. âIâll handle the boys if they get out of hand.â
You gave him a skeptical look. âYou donât know what youâre offering.â
âIâve handled worse,â Logan said with a grin that made your stomach do an odd little flip.
You opened your mouth to respond, but just then, a vendor called out, advertising fresh apples, and you were drawn toward the stall. Logan followed at a leisurely pace, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat.
You picked a couple of apples, inspecting them before adding them to your basket. As you handed a coin to the vendor, you glanced at Logan again.
âNext Sunday, then?â you asked, as if you still needed confirmation.
Logan gave a small nod. âNext Sunday.â
Something about the way he said itâcalm and certainâmade you believe it would actually happen. And for the first time in a long while, you found yourself looking forward to something.
---
The boys were already running rampant in the large field, their shouts of laughter echoing across the open space. You could see Edwin trying to race Phillip again, their legs kicking up dirt as they charged back and forth. Ada, ever the quiet one, sat nearby on a stack of hay, her doll in her lap, watching them with a little smile on her face.
You stood near the horses, feeling a flutter of nervous energy in your stomach. Logan was beside you, calm as always, holding the reins of a chestnut mare with an ease that made it all look far simpler than you knew it was. He glanced over at you, his dark eyes catching yours, and you could see the trace of a smirk tugging at his lips.
âYou sure about this?â Logan asked, nodding toward the horse.
You swallowed, staring up at the mare. âSure. How hard can it be?â
Logan gave a quiet laugh, clearly not convinced. âWeâll see.â
He held the reins steady, motioning for you to come closer. You did, taking a deep breath as you placed your hand on the saddle. The horse shifted slightly, and you jumped back a little, making Logan chuckle again.
âSheâs not gonna bite,â he said, his voice low and amused.
âI know that,â you muttered, embarrassed but trying not to show it. âI just wasnât ready.â
Logan gave a small shrug, stepping around to stand beside you. âCâmon. Foot in the stirrup. Iâll help you up.â
You hesitated for only a second before nodding. Grabbing hold of the saddle, you placed your foot in the stirrup just like heâd told you, and then you felt Loganâs hand on your waist, firm and steady. With one swift movement, he lifted you up onto the horse, and suddenly you were sitting much higher than youâd expected.
You gripped the reins tightly, your heart racing a little.
âThere,â Logan said, standing back with his arms crossed. He looked up at you, giving a small nod of approval. âNot bad.â
You glanced down at him, a bit breathless. âIâm on the horse, but that doesnât mean I can ride it.â
Logan smirked. âOne step at a time, darlinâ.â
He moved around to grab the reins, keeping his voice low and calm as he spoke to the mare, guiding her gently in a slow circle around the field. You held on, trying to keep yourself steady in the saddle. It wasnât as hard as you thought it would be, but every time the horse took a step, you felt your stomach flip a little.
Logan kept walking beside you, close enough that you could hear him, though his voice was quiet. âYouâre doinâ fine.â
âI feel ridiculous,â you muttered, glancing over at the boys to make sure they werenât watching. Of course, they were, but they seemed more interested in their own games than in you wobbling around on a horse.
âYou look fine,â Logan said, and there was something in his tone that made you glance at him sharply.
His eyes flickered up toward yours for just a moment, and you felt that familiar warmth in your cheeks again. You looked away quickly, trying to focus on staying upright.
âYouâre just sayinâ that,â you said, trying to sound casual.
Logan chuckled. âNo. If you looked ridiculous, Iâd tell you.â
The confidence in his voice made you smile despite yourself. You loosened your grip on the reins just a little, letting yourself relax. The horse moved steadily beneath you, her pace slow and even, and after a few moments, you realized it wasnât so bad after all.
âYou ready to try it on your own?â Logan asked, his voice easy.
You blinked. âYou think Iâm ready?â
âYeah.â He handed the reins over to you, stepping back a little. âJust keep her steady. Sheâs not gonna take off on you.â
You nodded, taking a deep breath and gripping the reins tightly as you urged the horse forward. She responded, moving into a gentle walk, and you felt a little thrill of pride. Logan walked beside you for a few more steps, watching, but then he stopped, folding his arms across his chest as he watched you guide the horse around the field on your own.
âYouâre a natural,â he called out, a grin tugging at his lips.
You laughed softly, feeling a bit more confident now. âI wouldnât go that far.â
As you circled back around toward him, you slowed the horse, bringing her to a stop in front of Logan. He looked up at you, his eyes warm and approving.
âTold ya,â he said. âNot so hard, is it?â
You shook your head, smiling. âNot as hard as I thought.â
Logan reached up, taking the reins from your hands. âCâmon. Letâs get you down.â
This part felt a little trickier, but Logan was there, steadying you as you swung your leg over the saddle and slid down. His hands were firm on your waist again, and for just a moment, you were standing close enough to catch the scent of leather and something elseâsomething distinctly Logan.
âThanks,â you said softly, looking up at him.
Loganâs eyes held yours for a long moment, something unreadable flickering in his gaze. Then he gave a small nod, stepping back.
âAnytime,â he said, his voice low.
Before you could say anything else, the boys came running over, breathless and wild from their playing. Edwin looked up at the horse, his eyes wide with excitement.
âCan I ride next?â he asked, practically bouncing on his toes.
You glanced at Logan, raising an eyebrow. âYou said youâd handle them if they got out of hand, remember?â
Logan sighed, giving you a wry smile. âYeah, I remember.â
He looked at Edwin, then nodded toward the horse. âAlright, kid. Letâs see what youâve got.â
As Logan helped Edwin onto the horse, you stepped back, watching with a small smile. The sun was starting to dip lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over the field, and for a moment, everything felt peaceful. You glanced at Ada, who was still sitting on the haystack, her doll in her arms, watching the scene with quiet interest.
Maybe it wasnât such a bad idea to let yourself enjoy moments like this.
As Logan guided Edwin around the field, you found yourself watching him more than the horse. There was something about the way he movedâstrong, sure, like he belonged here, like he was more comfortable in this quiet, open space than anywhere else.
And as he turned, catching your eye for just a moment, you couldnât help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, heâd found something here worth staying for.
---
âYou ever think about gettinâ outta the city?â Logan asked, his voice low. âFindinâ somewhere quieter?â
You glanced at him, a little surprised by the question. âIâve thought about it. But⊠Iâve got responsibilities.â
Logan nodded slowly, his eyes distant as he stared out at the horizon. âYeah. Responsibilities.â
The way he said it made you wonder if he was thinking about somethingâor someoneâfar away. Youâd learned quickly that Logan wasnât one to talk much about his past, and though you were curious, you didnât push.
You turned a jar of honey over in your hand, Mr. Thomas had asked you to buy them another jar while you were out. âIf I didnât have responsibilities, Iâd like to live out in a cabin, away from everything else. Sometimes things here are noisy. Iâd just like to⊠I donât know, exist without worryinâ about anything.â
Logan, standing beside you, his hands shoved in his pockets, gave a small grunt of agreement. "Sounds nice."
You glanced at him, curious. "You ever think about it? Leaving the city behind, finding a quiet spot somewhere?"
Logan paused for a moment, his gaze distant. "Yeah. Sometimes."
The simplicity of his answer hung in the air between you, and for a second, you wondered if he'd actually let himself think about settling down. It seemed unlikely, given how much he kept moving, but there was something in the way he said it, something almost wistful.
"You don't seem like the kind of guy who stays in one place for too long," you teased, shifting the basket in your hand as you handed the vendor a coin for the honey.
Logan shrugged, a small smirk playing at his lips. "Guess not."
You both fell into a comfortable silence as you continued walking through the market. The streets bustled with people, but somehow, with Logan by your side, it all felt a little less overwhelming. You didn't have to fill the quiet with pointless chatter. He wasnât like the others in the cityâconstantly rushing, looking for something to gain. He just⊠existed, like you wanted to.
As you passed by a small stall selling flowers, you slowed down, your eyes catching on a bouquet of wildflowers that reminded you of something you'd see out in the countryside. Logan noticed, his eyes following your gaze.
"You like those?" he asked, nodding toward the flowers.
You smiled softly. "Yeah. They remind me of⊠I donât know, freedom, I guess."
Logan gave a small chuckle. "Freedom, huh?"
You shrugged, suddenly feeling a little silly. "I know it sounds strange. Itâs just⊠being stuck in the city all the time, I donât get to see much of the world outside these streets."
He didnât laugh or brush it off like most people would have. Instead, Logan looked at you for a moment, his expression serious.
"Maybe one day," he said quietly, "youâll get that cabin. Find some peace."
There was something about the way he said it that made your heart skip a beat, but before you could respond, a commotion erupted a few stalls down. Edwin and Phillip came barreling toward you, laughing and out of breath, their hands full of something they clearly werenât supposed to have.
"Y/N!" Edwin shouted, holding up a small sack of apples. "Look what we got!"
You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. "And how exactly did you 'get' those?"
Phillip, ever the quieter one, shifted nervously on his feet. "We didnât steal them! Mr. Turner gave them to us after we helped him with his cart."
You glanced over to where Mr. Turner, a kind old man who often sold apples at the market, was smiling and waving in your direction.
"Alright," you said, sighing with relief. "But youâd better not be causing any trouble."
Logan chuckled under his breath, watching the boys with amusement. "Theyâre just having fun."
"Yeah, until someone gets hurt," you muttered, though you couldnât help but smile at their excitement.
Edwin, noticing Logan for the first time, grinned. "Hey, Logan! You ever been in a real fight?"
Logan smirked, glancing at you before turning back to the boys. "A couple."
Edwinâs eyes lit up. "Tell us about one!"
"Edwin," you warned, shaking your head. "Logan doesnât have time to tell you all his stories."
But Logan didnât seem to mind. He crouched down to the boysâ level, his expression serious as he spoke in that low, gravelly voice of his.
"Alright, but just one. There was this guy⊠big, tough-looking fella, thought he could take me down. We were out in the middle of nowhere, no one around for miles. He comes at me with this huge stick, thinking thatâll be enough."
Edwin and Phillip leaned in, wide-eyed, hanging on every word.
"So, what happened?" Edwin asked, barely able to contain himself.
Loganâs smirk deepened. "Letâs just say, he learned real quick not to mess with me."
The boys erupted into laughter, completely captivated by the idea of Logan taking down some big, burly guy.
You rolled your eyes, but couldnât help the smile creeping onto your face. "Youâre gonna give them ideas, you know."
Logan stood, shrugging casually. "Kids need a little excitement."
"Not too much," you muttered, though you were grateful for the way he interacted with them. Most men in the city didnât have the patience for children, especially not boys as wild as Edwin and Phillip.
As the boys ran off again, Logan glanced over at you, his expression softening just a bit.
"They look up to you," he said quietly.
You looked down, shrugging. "Theyâre good kids. Just need someone to look after them."
Logan was quiet for a moment, watching the boys as they disappeared into the crowd. Then, almost as if the thought had just occurred to him, he turned back to you.
"You ever think about having your own?" he asked, his tone surprisingly gentle.
The question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didnât know how to respond. You hadnât really thought about itânot seriously, anyway. Your life was too full of other peopleâs children, other peopleâs problems.
"I donât know," you said slowly, glancing up at him. "Maybe someday. If I ever get that cabin, I might think about it."
Logan nodded, but didnât say anything more. He just walked beside you, the two of you falling back into that easy, comfortable silence.
It wasnât until later, as you lay in bed that night, that you found yourself thinking about his question again. The idea of a quiet life, away from the noise and chaos of the city, didnât seem so impossible anymoreânot when you imagined Logan there with you.
---
One night, after you had put the boys to sleep and were in Adaâs room to read a story to her, she asked you a question. âWhy arenât you like mama and papa?â
You raised your head from the book you were reading to her, âwhat do you mean?â
Her lips formed a small pout, âmama has papa, but you donât have anyone.â
You blinked, caught off guard by Adaâs question. Her innocent curiosity made your heart ache, but you kept your voice steady.
âWell, sweetie,â you started, trying to find the right words, âsometimes, people are just on their own for a little while. It doesnât mean they wonât find someone. Maybe they just havenât yet.â
Ada considered this, her small brow furrowed in thought. âBut youâre so nice. Why doesnât anyone love you?â
The simplicity of the question stung more than it should have. You chuckled softly, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. âItâs not that simple, Ada. But thank you for saying that.â
She didnât seem satisfied with your answer, her tiny face still scrunched up in confusion. âDonât you get lonely?â
You hesitated, glancing out the window at the darkening sky. The truth was, sometimes you did. Even though you were surrounded by peopleâtaking care of the children, managing the houseâyou couldnât deny that feeling creeping in every now and then.
âI have you, donât I?â you finally said, smiling down at her. âAnd Edwin and Phillip. You three keep me pretty busy.â
Ada giggled softly at that, settling into her blankets. âI guess. But I think you should find someone, like mama did.â
You gave her a light kiss on the forehead, smoothing down her hair. âMaybe one day, kiddo.â
Ada yawned, her eyes drooping as sleep crept up on her. âGoodnight, Y/N.â
âGoodnight, Ada,â you whispered, watching her drift off. You stayed there for a moment longer, thinking about her words, before quietly slipping out of the room.
The house was silent as you made your way down the hall, but your mind was anything but. Her innocent question stirred something inside of you, a longing that you hadnât let yourself fully acknowledge. It wasnât like you to dwell on what you didnât have, but maybe⊠maybe Ada was right. Maybe there was something missing.
But it wasnât something you could focus on right now. You had responsibilities. This family depended on you, and that was enough for now. At least, thatâs what you kept telling yourself.
As you reached your room and closed the door behind you, you caught sight of the bouquet of wildflowers Logan had quietly bought earlier in the day. You hadnât noticed him purchase them at the market, but when you returned to the house, they were there on the doorstep, a small note attached that simply read, Thought youâd like these.
You smiled to yourself, gently picking up the flowers and placing them in a vase by the window. You hadnât thought much about having someone of your own, but as you looked at the flowers, you couldnât help but wonder what it might be like.
And, for the first time in a long while, the idea didnât seem so far away.
---
The next few days passed quietly, with Logan visiting you at the market more frequently, though neither of you mentioned the wildflowers. There was an unspoken understanding between youâneither of you rushed things, but the connection was undeniably growing.
One afternoon, as you sat outside with Ada on your lap, reading her a story, Logan appeared at the gate. The children spotted him first, of course, and Edwin ran over, grinning ear to ear.
âLogan! Youâre back!â he shouted, tugging at Loganâs coat. âDid you bring us any stories?â
Logan gave a soft grunt, glancing over at you with a smirk. âI might have one or two left.â
You shook your head, amused. âTheyâll never leave you alone if you keep telling them stories, you know.â
Logan crouched down, ruffling Edwinâs hair. âI donât mind,â he said, his gaze softening as he glanced at Ada in your lap. âHowâre you doinâ, kid?â
Ada looked up from the book and smiled shyly, giving him a small wave. âHi, Logan.â
He smiled, the sight of the children always easing something in him, though he didnât let it show too much.
As the kids ran off to play, Logan took a seat beside you on the bench. The two of you sat in silence for a while, watching the children chase each other across the yard.
âTheyâre good kids,â Logan said finally, breaking the quiet.
âThey are,â you agreed. âTheyâve got a lot of love to give, and not always enough people around to give it to.â
Logan turned his head slightly, his eyes studying you. âThat include you?â
You looked down, fidgeting with your skirt. âMaybe. I spend so much time looking after everyone else, sometimes I forget thereâs more to life than just⊠this.â
Logan didnât say anything at first, just watched you quietly. Then, his voice low, he asked, âYou ever think about finding something more?â
You turned to him, surprised by the question. âI donât know if Iâve let myself think that far ahead,â you admitted, your heart beating a little faster under his gaze.
Logan looked away, his jaw tightening slightly as if he was holding something back. âMaybe you should.â
The weight of his words lingered in the air between you, and for the first time, you felt a pullâa possibility of something beyond the life youâd built here. Something you hadnât allowed yourself to dream about until now.
But before either of you could say more, the childrenâs laughter echoed through the yard, and the moment passed. Still, the feeling stayed with you long after Logan left that evening.
---
The sky had taken on that soft orange hue of evening, the kind that made the whole world feel suspended between day and night. You and Logan walked side by side along the Hudson River, the sound of water gently lapping against the shore mixing with the distant hum of the city. It had become your routine over the past few weeks, these evening walksâquiet, almost intimate, even though neither of you said much.
Today, though, something felt different. Logan had been quieter than usual, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his usual gruff demeanor softened by the fading sunlight. Every now and then, youâd catch him glancing at you from the corner of his eye, as if there was something he wanted to say but couldnât find the words.
âYou alright?â you asked, your voice cutting through the comfortable silence.
Logan nodded, though his expression didnât quite match the motion. âYeah, just⊠thinkinâ.â
âAbout?â
He stopped walking, turning to face the river. You followed his gaze, watching the way the sunâs reflection danced on the surface of the water. After a long moment, he spoke.
âIâve never really⊠had this before,â he said, his voice low, almost hesitant. âYâknow, just⊠beinâ with someone like this. Feels kinda strange.â
You smiled softly, stepping closer to him, close enough that your arm brushed against his. âStrange in a good way?â
Logan let out a short, almost nervous chuckle. âYeah. In a good way.â
The two of you stood there, side by side, watching the sun dip lower in the sky. You could feel the warmth of his presence, his arm just barely touching yours, and it sent a small thrill through you. You hadnât been sure at first if what you felt for Logan was mutualâhe was quiet, reserved, hard to readâbut moments like this, when the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you, made it clear. There was something unspoken between you, something neither of you had dared to put into words.
After a while, you turned to face him, studying the way his brow was furrowed, like he was deep in thought.
âLogan,â you said softly.
He looked at you then, really looked at you, his hazel eyes meeting yours with a kind of intensity that made your heart skip a beat. For a moment, neither of you moved, the air thick with something unsaid.
Before you could second-guess yourself, you reached out and took his hand, your fingers slipping into his. Logan stiffened at the touch, his eyes flicking down to where your hands were joined, but he didnât pull away. If anything, he stepped closer, his fingers curling around yours, holding on a little tighter.
âI donât think Iâve ever felt this way before either,â you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.
Loganâs gaze softened, his usual guarded expression cracking just enough to let something more vulnerable show through. He hesitated, like he was trying to find the right words, but then decided words werenât necessary.
Instead, he took a small step forward, his free hand coming up to gently cup the side of your face. His touch was warm, rough, but there was a surprising tenderness in the way his thumb brushed lightly against your cheek. You held your breath, your heart pounding in your chest as he leaned in, his eyes flicking between yours as if asking for permission.
When you didnât pull away, he closed the distance.
The kiss was soft, almost tentative at first, like he was testing the waters. But the second your lips met his, something inside you seemed to melt, and you leaned into him, deepening the kiss. Logan responded in kind, his grip on your hand tightening as he pulled you closer, the space between you disappearing entirely.
For a moment, it was just the two of youâthe sound of the river fading away, the world narrowing down to the warmth of Loganâs lips against yours, the feel of his hand cradling your face like you were something precious.
When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathing a little heavier, your foreheads resting against each other as you stood there, wrapped in the soft glow of the setting sun.
Loganâs eyes fluttered open, and he gave you a small, almost sheepish smile. âDidnât think Iâd be kissinâ you tonight.â
You laughed softly, still a little breathless. âNeither did I.â
He pulled you closer, resting his chin on top of your head as he held you against him. The two of you stood there in the fading light, wrapped up in each other, the world beyond the river momentarily forgotten.
---
Logan thought back to your conversation about living in a cabin more than he cared to admit. The thought of it seemed nice, peaceful, and dare he say it perfect.
After a few weeks of being together, Logan had made a decision and scrounged up any money he could before buying a modest ring from a jeweler. He wasnât going to propose yet but carrying the ring in his pocket felt right.
He had been coming over to the Thomasesâ sprawling estate more often, whether it was walking with you from the market to the large house or even just stopping by of his own will. At first, it had been an occasional thingâa quiet visit here, a quick walk thereâbut lately, Logan found himself looking for excuses just to be around. You didnât seem to mind. In fact, the way your eyes lit up when you saw him made him feel something unfamiliar, something good.
One late afternoon, Logan leaned against the garden gate, watching as you knelt by a row of flowers, tending to them with your usual care. He couldnât help but admire the sightâyour sleeves rolled up, hair slightly tousled from the breeze, a small smile on your lips as you worked. It made something in his chest tighten. He fingered the ring in his pocket, feeling its weight. He had no plan to use it anytime soon, but carrying it felt right, like a promise to himself.
You glanced up, catching his eye, and smiled, wiping your hands on your apron as you stood. "Back again, Logan?"
"Guess so," he replied, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Thought you might need a hand."
"Well, I could always use one," you teased, stepping closer to him. "But you donât strike me as the gardening type."
Logan chuckled, reaching out to take your hand, pulling you a little closer. "Not much of a gardener, no. But I can stand here and look good while you do all the work."
You rolled your eyes playfully but didnât let go of his hand. The easy banter between you had become natural, and the affection between you had grown, unspoken but undeniable. After a moment, you tugged him toward a bench under a nearby tree.
âSit with me for a minute,â you said softly. âIâve been out here all day.â
He followed, sitting beside you as the evening breeze rustled the leaves above. The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching the shadows lengthen as the sun began to set. Logan glanced at you from the corner of his eye, the warm light catching the curve of your face.
âYou ever think this is enough?â he asked suddenly, his voice quiet but clear.
You looked over at him, eyebrows raised. âWhat do you mean?â
Logan hesitated, his fingers still laced with yours. âJust⊠this. Beinâ together. Doesnât need to be more complicated than that.â
You smiled softly, leaning your head against his shoulder. âI think it is enough,â you said after a moment. âI like this, Logan. I like us.â
His heart beat a little faster at your words, and without thinking, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. It wasnât a big gesture, but it felt natural, like something heâd been wanting to do for a while. You tilted your head up, meeting his eyes, your lips curving into a gentle smile.
âYou keep that up, and Iâm never gonna let you go,â you teased, though there was something softer, almost serious, in your tone.
Logan smirked, pulling you closer until your legs brushed against his. âDonât see a reason to.â
Your fingers traced absent patterns on the back of his hand, your touch light and thoughtful. âYou know, I used to wonder if Iâd ever feel this way about someone,â you admitted softly, your eyes focused on your hands. âIf Iâd ever meet someone who made me feel⊠like this.â
Logan was quiet for a moment, watching you, feeling the warmth of your words settle deep inside him. Heâd never thought heâd find someone who made him feel like this eitherâlike he didnât have to keep moving, like maybe heâd found something worth staying for. He wanted to tell you that, to say what he was feeling, but the words stuck in his throat. So instead, he squeezed your hand, hoping youâd understand what he couldnât say yet.
You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. The connection between you, the pull, was undeniable. Logan leaned in, his hand slipping to the back of your neck as he pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was slow, tender, like both of you were taking your time, savoring the moment. When you pulled back, your forehead rested against his, and for a second, the world outside the garden didnât exist.
âI could stay like this forever,â you whispered, your breath warm against his lips.
Loganâs hand tightened on yours. âMaybe we will,â he murmured back, the words slipping out before he could stop them.
You smiled, your eyes soft as you leaned in and kissed him again, slow and sweet. When you pulled back this time, you didnât say anything, just settled into his side, your head resting against his chest as the two of you watched the sky shift into shades of pink and orange.
The world outside may have been complicated, full of responsibilities and noise, but here, with Logan beside you, it felt simple. Peaceful. Like this was all that mattered.
---
One late afternoon, you were sitting on the porch with Ada and the boys, telling them stories while they played at your feet. Logan leaned against the fence, watching you from a distance, his heart swelling at the sight of you surrounded by the children, laughing and carefree.
âYou look like youâre thinkinâ about somethinâ serious,â your voice cut through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. You stood up, walking over to him, a teasing smile on your face.
Logan shrugged, trying to play it off. âJust thinkinâ about how you handle those kids like itâs nothinâ.â
You laughed, rolling your eyes. âTrust me, itâs something. Theyâre a handful.â
Logan smiled, reaching out to take your hand. âYouâre good at it. I like watchinâ you with them.â
Your cheeks flushed slightly at his compliment, and you glanced down, trying to hide the small smile playing at your lips. âWell, youâre not so bad with them yourself. Edwin wonât stop talking about that story you told him.â
Logan chuckled, shaking his head. âKidâs got a wild imagination.â
You leaned in closer, your fingers playing with the hem of his sleeve. âMaybe he gets that from you.â
He smirked, slipping his arm around your waist and pulling you into him. âThink so?â
âI know so,â you whispered, your breath brushing against his neck.
For a moment, the world around you seemed to fade away, and it was just the two of you, standing in the soft glow of the afternoon sun. Loganâs hand slid up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin before he leaned down and kissed you, slow and deliberate, like he was memorizing the feel of your lips against his.
When he pulled back, your eyes were half-closed, your expression soft and content. âLogan,â you whispered, your voice barely audible. âWhat are we doing?â
He looked at you, his thumb still tracing soft circles on your cheek. âDoinâ what feels right.â
You smiled, resting your forehead against his. âYeah. It does feel right.â
The sound of the childrenâs laughter broke the quiet moment between you, and you both turned to see Ada running toward you, her little legs carrying her as fast as they could. âY/N! Y/N!â she shouted, her face flushed with excitement. âCome play with us!â
You laughed, pulling away from Logan just enough to crouch down and catch Ada in your arms. âAlright, alright! Iâm coming.â
As you stood, you glanced back at Logan, your eyes lingering on him for a moment longer. He gave you a small nod, his lips quirking into a smile, and you turned back to the children, running off with them into the yard.
Logan watched you for a while longer, his hand slipping into his pocket where the small ring rested. It wasnât time yet, but someday, maybe heâd ask. Someday, when the moment was right.
For now, this was enough.
And for the first time in his life, that was all Logan wanted.
---
âMrs. Thomas is sick. She wanted me to pick up some things for her before the doctor comes to check her out,â you explained, adding a sprig of thyme to your basket and handing the vendor a coin.
Logan stood beside you, hands stuffed in his pockets, watching you with a casual ease that had become second nature to him. âWhatâs wrong with her?â he asked, though his tone wasnât heavyâjust curious.
You shrugged, brushing a strand of hair from your face. âProbably just a cold. Sheâs been coughing a bit, but Mr. Thomas thinks sheâll be fine.â
Loganâs jaw ticked slightly, his eyes following the movement of your hand as it tucked the hair behind your ear. âYou sure you should be around her if sheâs sick?â
You smiled at his concern, nudging him lightly with your elbow. âItâs part of the job, Logan. Besides, Iâve been with her every day. If I was going to get sick, it wouldâve happened by now.â
He frowned, not entirely convinced, but let it drop. You were stubborn like thatâalways brushing things off when they concerned you.
As you moved from stall to stall, picking out fresh herbs, bread, and tea, Logan trailed beside you, a silent presence at your side. It was comfortableânatural, even. You could feel him close, his arm brushing yours now and then, and though neither of you said much, it was the kind of quiet that felt good.
When you handed the grocer a coin for a small loaf of bread, Loganâs voice broke the easy silence. âYou want me to walk you back?â
You glanced up at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. âTrying to sneak more time with me?â
Logan grinned, his hands still tucked in his coat pockets. âMaybe.â
Your laugh was soft and warm, and Logan swore it was one of his favorite sounds.
âYou donât have to, but I wonât say no if you want to,â you teased, shifting the basket on your hip. âThe Thomases live all the way across town, though.â
Logan rolled his shoulders in a lazy shrug. âDonât mind.â
With that settled, the two of you set off toward the Thomasesâ estate, falling into step beside each other. The streets bustled with the usual afternoon crowdsâvendors hawking their goods, carts rattling down cobbled roads, children darting through the streets. Yet somehow, it felt like the two of you existed in your own little world, insulated from the noise of the city.
âYou been working much?â you asked after a moment, glancing sideways at him.
Logan nodded. âYeah. Couple of odd jobs here and there.â
âSame ones?â
âMostly.â He paused, as if debating whether to say more. Then, with a smirk, he added, âNot much call for a guy like me whoâs no good with flowers.â
You laughed, the sound light and easy. âWell, Iâm sure someone will take pity on you eventually.â
He bumped his shoulder against yours gently. âYou already did.â
You rolled your eyes, but the smile stayed on your face. âLucky you.â
The walk was long, but neither of you minded. You pointed out things along the wayâshops you liked, shortcuts youâd found, little bits of the city youâd come to know well in your time working for the Thomases. Logan listened, his attention fixed on you, and though he didnât say much, you could tell he was soaking up every word.
When the two of you reached the tall iron gates of the Thomases' estate, you hesitated, lingering just a bit longer with Logan at the edge of the garden.
âThanks for walking me,â you said softly, your fingers brushing over his for the briefest second.
âAnytime,â he murmured, catching your hand before you could pull it away. He gave it a squeeze, his eyes lingering on yours. âYou alright?â
You nodded. âIâm fine, Logan. Just worried about Mrs. Thomas, I guess.â
He studied you for a beat longer, his thumb absentmindedly brushing the back of your hand. âYouâll let me know if you need anything, yeah?â
You gave him a small smile, squeezing his hand in return. âYeah. I will.â
Neither of you moved at first, as if caught in a moment you werenât quite ready to let go of. Loganâs gaze flickered to your lips, and for a second, you thought he might kiss youâright there at the gate, with the late afternoon sun warming your skin and the scent of lavender drifting from the garden.
But instead, he leaned in and pressed a slow kiss to your temple, his lips lingering just long enough to leave you breathless.
âSee you soon,â he murmured against your skin.
You swallowed, your heart thudding in your chest. âSee you soon,â you whispered back.
Logan stepped away, his hands reluctantly slipping from yours, and you watched as he made his way back down the path. He didnât look back, but somehow, you knew that he felt the same pull you didâthe one that always seemed to draw you closer, no matter how far apart you were.
With a soft sigh, you turned and pushed open the gate, your basket swinging gently at your side as you made your way toward the house. The sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the neatly trimmed lawn.
You didnât know it yet, but the weight of that momentâof Loganâs hand in yours, of the way his kiss had felt against your skinâwould stay with you. It would become one of those memories youâd carry in the quiet hours, long after everything had changed.
But for now, it was just another afternoon. And that was enough.
You slipped inside the Thomasesâ estate, greeted by the familiar smell of baked bread and lavender from the garden. The childrenâs laughter echoed faintly from upstairs, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the unease you felt about Mrs. Thomas.
As you moved through the grand hallway, the weight of Loganâs lingering kiss on your temple stayed with you, soft and comforting. His presence, though absent now, always seemed to cling to the air around you like the warmth of a hearth after a long day.
âY/N!â Edwinâs voice called from the top of the stairs. You looked up to find him peering down at you, his unruly curls falling into his eyes. âCan we go to the park after tea? Phillip says he can run faster than me, but I bet Iâll beat him this time.â
You smiled up at him, though your thoughts were still on Mrs. Thomas. âWeâll see about that, Edwin. But letâs check in on your mother first, alright?â
He nodded, though his face fell a little, understanding the importance of that moment.
Making your way to Mrs. Thomasâs room, you found the air heavier, a staleness clinging to it that made you pause at the door. You knocked softly before entering, the creak of the door barely disturbing the quiet. Mrs. Thomas lay in bed, propped up by pillows, her face pale and drawn. Her once vibrant eyes were duller now, and the small cough you had heard earlier seemed more persistent, rattling in her chest.
âMrs. Thomas,â you said gently, approaching her bedside with the basket of fresh supplies. âIâve brought some thyme and tea. The doctor will be here later this week.â
Mrs. Thomas offered a faint smile, though it barely touched her lips. âThank you, dear. Youâre always so thoughtful,â she said, her voice raspy. She shifted slightly, wincing at the effort it took. âIâm sure itâs just a little cold.â
You forced a smile, though something inside you tugged with worry. âOf course. Just a little cold.â
After a few more moments, you excused yourself, promising to return later. The house felt stifling, the sense of something being wrong making your chest tighten. Logan had been right to be concerned. But you brushed it aside, focusing on the children.
A few hours later, after Edwin had indeed beaten Phillip in a race through the park, and Ada had insisted on collecting wildflowers for her mother, the three children were settled with tea. You were cleaning up the kitchen when a familiar knock came at the back door.
Opening it, you found Logan leaning against the frame, that easy smile already softening the tension in your shoulders.
âThought you might like some company,â he said, stepping inside and pulling you into a gentle embrace. The warmth of his arms around you instantly melted away the weight of the afternoon, and for a moment, you simply leaned into him, breathing him in.
âGood timing,â you murmured into his chest. âThe kids are winding down for the night. Edwinâs convinced heâs going to be the fastest man in the world.â
Logan chuckled, his chest vibrating against your cheek. âIs that so? Guess Iâll have to challenge him one day.â
You smiled, pulling back slightly to look up at him. âHeâd love that.â
There was a beat of quiet as Loganâs hand came up to brush a stray hair from your face, his thumb lingering just under your jaw. His gaze softened, searching yours for something. It was moments like thisâsmall, tenderâthat reminded you just how much youâd come to care for him in these past few weeks.
âYou alright?â he asked, voice low.
You hesitated, then nodded. âJust⊠worried about Mrs. Thomas. I donât know, Logan, she seems worse than sheâs letting on.â
Loganâs brow furrowed, his hands slipping down to rest on your waist. âSheâs tough, right? Sheâll pull through.â
You nodded again, though the doubt lingered. âI hope so.â
Logan leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours, the weight of his presence anchoring you. âYouâll let me know if you need anything?â
âI will,â you whispered, your hands resting on his chest.
He pulled back just enough to catch your lips in a slow, gentle kiss. It was familiar, the way his mouth moved against yoursâsteady, comforting, with that undercurrent of longing that always seemed to simmer just beneath the surface between you two. When you finally parted, his thumb brushed your cheek, his gaze still locked on yours.
âI hate leaving you here,â he murmured, the frustration clear in his voice. âEspecially with her sick.â
You smiled softly, shaking your head. âIâll be fine, Logan. Go home, get some rest.â
He gave a small grunt, clearly not thrilled with the idea of leaving, but he knew better than to argue when you got like thisâdetermined and stubborn.
With a sigh, he leaned in once more, pressing a final kiss to your forehead before stepping back. âAlright. But Iâm checking in tomorrow, whether you like it or not.â
âI wouldnât expect anything less,â you teased, though the warmth in your chest grew at his protectiveness.
Logan gave you one last smile before turning to head back out into the night, his coat swaying as he disappeared into the shadows. You watched him go, the familiar tug in your chest pulling at you again, but this time it wasnât just affection. It was worryâa gnawing sense of unease that had been creeping in since that afternoon in the market.
You stood there at the back door for a moment longer, staring into the empty street, wondering if Logan could feel it tooâthe quiet, unspoken fear that something was about to change.
---
The next few days passed quietly, the routine of the Thomasesâ household carrying on as usualâthough the coughs from Mrs. Thomasâs room seemed to grow more frequent, more strained. You tried not to think too much of it, telling yourself it was only a cold, that the doctor would sort it out when he came to visit. But there was a part of you, small but insistent, that couldnât shake the unease gnawing at your thoughts.
The children kept you busy, of course. Edwin was endlessly energetic, challenging Phillip to races and daring Ada to climb the low trees in the garden, much to your chagrin. Ada, sweet and delicate, clung to your side like a shadow, her small hand often finding yours as she babbled on about her imaginary tea parties and grand adventures. In their presence, it was easy to forget the worry in the back of your mindâat least for a little while.
But then, in the quiet momentsâlike when you helped Mrs. Thomas to her bed after one of her coughing fits, or when the house seemed far too still after the children had fallen asleepâyour thoughts would drift back to Logan. To the way he had kissed your forehead that day at the back door, how his hand had lingered in yours just a second longer than usual, as if heâd sensed it too. That something was wrong.
You found yourself waiting for him. Every evening, as the sun dipped low over the city and the shadows lengthened in the streets, you listened for that familiar knock at the back door. And every evening, without fail, he would comeânever too late, never too early, always arriving when you needed him most.
Tonight was no different.
You were sitting at the small table in the kitchen, a pot of tea cooling beside you, when the soft knock came. A smile tugged at your lips before you could stop it, your heart lifting in that familiar way as you crossed the room and opened the door.
Logan stood there, his dark hair slightly tousled from the evening breeze, his expression soft but watchful. He gave you that crooked smile that always seemed to make everything feel lighter, as if the world wasnât such a heavy place when he was around.
âThought I might find you here,â he said, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.
You shrugged, the smile still playing on your lips. âWhere else would I be?â
He chuckled, moving to lean against the counter, his eyes flicking briefly to the teapot on the table. âYou drinking alone?â
âFor now,â you teased, pouring him a cup. âBut I suppose I can share.â
Logan took the cup from you, his fingers brushing yours in that familiar way, sending a small, warm spark through your skin. He didnât move to sit, though. Instead, he stayed close, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than usual, as if trying to read something in your face.
âWhat?â you asked softly, the weight of his stare making your heart flutter.
âJust checking in,â he said, his voice lower, more serious than before. âYou look tired.â
You gave a small, weary laugh, shaking your head. âIâm fine, Logan. Just a lot on my mind.â
âMrs. Thomas?â he guessed, sipping his tea.
You nodded, glancing at the floor. âSheâs getting worse. Iâm trying not to worry, but⊠I donât know, something doesnât feel right.â
Loganâs brow furrowed, and he set his cup down, moving to stand beside you. His hand came up to rest on your shoulder, his thumb brushing lightly against the fabric of your sleeve. âIf you need me to do anythingâget more medicine, fetch the doctor soonerâyou just say the word.â
You met his gaze, your chest tightening at the concern etched into his face. He always made you feel safe, even when you didnât want to admit how scared you were. You reached up, covering his hand with yours, squeezing it gently.
âI know,â you murmured. âThank you.â
For a moment, the room was quiet again, the sounds of the city muted by the walls of the house. You could hear the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth, the distant hum of life outside, but here, in this small space, it felt like it was just the two of you. Just the two of you, and the warmth of his hand on your shoulder.
Logan shifted slightly, turning to face you more fully, his other hand coming to rest at your waist. He tugged you closer, his expression softening as he leaned in, his lips brushing your forehead in that tender way that always made your heart skip. But this time, he didnât stop there. He tilted your chin up gently, his gaze flicking briefly to your lips before meeting your eyes again.
âCâmere,â he whispered, and you didnât need any more coaxing.
Your arms slid up around his neck, pulling him in as his lips met yours in a slow, deliberate kiss. It was soft at first, tender, but there was a quiet intensity behind it, a sense of urgency you hadnât felt before. Maybe it was the weight of the unspoken worry hanging between you, or maybe it was just that every time you kissed him, it felt like it could be the last. Either way, you melted into him, savoring the warmth of his mouth against yours, the way his hands tightened around your waist as if he didnât want to let you go.
When you finally pulled back, your breath mingling with his, Logan rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as he let out a long, slow sigh.
âStay with me tonight,â you whispered, your voice barely audible. You hadnât meant to say it, but the words tumbled out before you could stop them. The thought of being alone with your worries, of facing the uncertainty of Mrs. Thomasâs illness by yourself, suddenly felt unbearable.
Loganâs eyes opened, his gaze soft but searching as he studied your face. âYou sure?â
You nodded, your hands still resting at the nape of his neck. âI just⊠I donât want to be alone.â
He didnât hesitate after that. With a soft, reassuring smile, he nodded and pressed another kiss to your temple. âAlright. Iâm here.â
---
The doctor had come by some days later bringing by news, Mrs. Thomas had tuberculosis. He gave her at least another month to live.
Mr. Thomas had instructed you to not let the kids near her as often, to make sure they donât get sick. He didnât seem to care much about Logan spending the night with you, or letting the kids be around him.
Logan had been spending more nights with you, by your request. It wasnât something you talked about, just a quiet understanding between the two of you. The nights felt warmer with him beside you, the weight of the world a little lighter when you could lean against him. He never made a big deal out of it either. It was just...natural.
Tonight was no different. You sat by the fire in the small parlor, the children long since asleep upstairs. The flicker of the flames cast shadows across the room, and you caught yourself glancing toward the door, waiting for that familiar knock.
When it came, it was soft, almost hesitant. But you smiled, already rising to your feet to let him in. Logan stepped inside, brushing off the chill of the night as he shook the snow from his coat.
âSnowâs picking up out there,â he muttered, shrugging off the heavy coat and hanging it by the door. âThought Iâd get here before it got too bad.â
You nodded, wrapping your arms around yourself as you watched him. âIâm glad you did.â
He crossed the room, and without another word, his arms wrapped around you. You melted into his chest, resting your head against him as the fire crackled in the hearth. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his hand running down your back.
âYou alright?â he asked quietly, his voice low. âYouâve been quiet lately.â
You sighed, pulling back just enough to look up at him. âIâm fine. Just tired. Itâs⊠everything with Mrs. Thomas, the kids⊠Iâm trying to keep it together.â
Logan frowned, his hands tightening slightly on your waist. âYou donât have to do it all yourself. You know that, right?â
âI know,â you said softly. âBut I feel like I have to.â
âYou donât,â he repeated, his eyes searching yours. âIâm here.â
That simple statement hit you harder than you expected. You leaned up, pressing your lips to his in a soft, lingering kiss. He responded instantly, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, deepening the kiss as if he needed it as much as you did. It was slow and tender, and you found yourself pulling him closer, trying to forget the weight of everything else, if only for a moment.
When you finally pulled back, Logan rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your lips.
âYou should sleep,â he whispered. âYouâre exhausted.â
âWill you stay?â you asked, your voice small.
âAlways,â he said without hesitation.
---
The nights blurred together. Logan was there more often than not, sometimes waiting for you when you finished putting the children to bed, other times arriving late after a day spent working. You hadnât asked where he went during the day, and he hadnât volunteered the information. It didnât matter. When he was with you, everything else seemed to fade into the background.
The children, especially Ada, had continued asking why she couldnât see her mother as often. It had broke your heart to tell her and the boys that their mom was sick, not going any further than that.
âTheyâll understand one day,â Logan had said, trying to comfort you as you sat by the fire one evening. His arm was around your shoulders, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm.
You nodded, but the heaviness in your chest wouldnât lift.
âI just want to help,â you murmured. âBut I canât.â
Logan was silent for a moment before he spoke again, his voice low. âYouâre doing more than you think, Y/N. Just being here for the kids, for her... it matters.â
You looked up at him, your eyes searching his. There was something in the way he looked at you, something deeper than the usual concern. It was a look that made your heart skip, that made you realize just how much he had become a part of your life in such a short time.
He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before brushing his lips against yours in a slow, gentle kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, needing that connection, needing him.
When you finally pulled back, you rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Loganâs hand slid up to cradle the back of your head, his touch soothing.
âIâm here,â he whispered again, as if the words alone could make everything right.
And for a moment, they did.
---
You could tell that after a month and a half, Mrs. Thomas didnât have much time left. Maybe a week at the most. She was so young, barely 30 years old, and already having to face the inevitable. Her coughing had become more violent, her body thinner with each passing day, and the sparkle in her eyes was gone. She was fading right before your eyes.
It had been a long day. The kids were more restless than usual, likely sensing the shift in the household. Youâd spent most of the afternoon calming Edwin and Ada while trying to keep Phillip out of trouble. Ada, in particular, had been clingy, holding onto your skirt as you moved about the house, asking you why her mother wasnât coming out of her room anymore.
You gave her the same answer as always. âYour mamaâs just resting, sweetheart.â
But even she seemed to sense something was off.
By the time the sun had started to set, you felt the exhaustion in your bones. You barely touched your dinner, pushing food around your plate before giving up entirely. It wasnât just the physical tiredness, though. It was something deeper. A strange ache in your chest, one you couldnât quite explain. Maybe it was the weight of everythingâMrs. Thomasâs worsening condition, the children, Logan...
You hadnât seen him tonight, and that small part of you that had grown used to his presence felt the void acutely. He had a way of grounding you, of making everything seem less overwhelming, if only for a little while. You didnât want to admit it, but you were beginning to rely on him more and more.
As you climbed the stairs to check on the children, your steps felt heavier than usual. Fatigue, you told yourself. Just fatigue.
When you entered Mrs. Thomasâs room to help her settle for the night, she gave you a weak smile. âThank you, Y/N... for everything.â
You smiled back, brushing her hair away from her face as you helped her lie down. âDonât mention it. You just rest.â
Her breathing was shallow, the sound rattling in her chest. You tried not to let it show on your face, but inside, that gnawing worry had grown into a full-fledged fear. You knew the end was coming soon. You just hoped the children wouldnât have to watch her fade.
---
Later that night, after the house had fallen quiet and the children were asleep, you sat by the small fire in the kitchen. You stared at the flickering flames, trying to let the warmth chase away the chill in your bones, but it wasnât working.
You werenât surprised when you heard the soft knock at the back door. Loganâs timing had always been impeccable, showing up when you needed him most, even if you hadnât called for him. You rose from your seat and opened the door, letting him in with a small, tired smile.
âCold out there,â he muttered, brushing the snow from his shoulders before stepping inside. He took one look at your face, and his brows furrowed. âYou look exhausted, Y/N.â
You waved him off, shutting the door behind him. âItâs been a long day. Mrs. Thomas is...â
He didnât need you to finish. Heâd been coming by enough to know how bad things had gotten.
Logan crossed the small space between you and placed a hand on your arm. âYou should be resting too. Whenâs the last time you got a full nightâs sleep?â
You let out a tired laugh, shaking your head. âWhat is that again?â
âY/N,â he said, his tone a mix of teasing and concern. âYou canât keep running yourself ragged. Youâre no good to the kids if you get sick.â
His words hit a little too close to home. That lingering ache in your chest hadnât gone away, and now, with him standing so close, it seemed to press harder, making it difficult to breathe. You ignored it, trying to focus on his warm hand still resting on your arm, grounding you.
âIâll be fine,â you said quietly, leaning against him just slightly. âI just... I need you here. Thatâs all.â
Loganâs expression softened, and he slipped his arms around you, pulling you close. You rested your head against his chest, closing your eyes as his warmth enveloped you. It felt like everything else faded away when you were in his armsâlike the weight of the world wasnât quite so heavy.
âIâm here,â he murmured into your hair, his voice low. âIâm not going anywhere.â
You stayed like that for a moment, just holding onto him, letting his presence soothe the anxiety that had been gnawing at you all day. His hands ran up and down your back in slow, soothing motions, and you found yourself relaxing, your shoulders sagging as the tension melted away.
But that ache in your chest didnât fade. If anything, it seemed to settle deeper, a dull, persistent throb that you couldnât quite shake.
âI donât know how much longer she has,â you whispered, your voice barely audible. âMaybe a week. And the kids... I donât know how to explain it to them.â
Logan sighed, his breath warm against your hair. âYouâll find the right words when the time comes. You always do.â
You werenât sure about that, but you didnât argue. Instead, you pulled back just enough to look up at him, your hands still resting against his chest. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, you could see the same worry you felt reflected in his gaze. But there was something else tooâsomething softer, something that made your heart skip a beat.
Before you could say anything, Logan leaned down, pressing his lips to yours in a slow, tender kiss. It wasnât rushed or urgentâjust gentle, like he was trying to tell you without words that he was there, that you didnât have to carry everything alone.
You kissed him back, your fingers curling into his shirt as you pulled him closer. For a few seconds, it was just the two of you, the world outside forgotten. But when you finally pulled back, the ache in your chest flared again, sharper this time, making you wince slightly.
Loganâs eyes narrowed, concern flashing across his face. âYou alright?â
âYeah,â you said quickly, brushing it off. âJust... tired, I guess.â
He didnât look convinced, but he didnât push it either. Instead, he kissed your forehead softly, his hands still holding you close. âYou need to sleep. Iâll stay with you, okay?â
You nodded, letting him lead you to your small bedroom. As you lay down, Logan settled beside you, his arm draped around your waist as he pulled you close. You nestled against him, the warmth of his body soothing, but even as you drifted off to sleep, that strange ache lingered, a quiet reminder that something wasnât right.
---
Over the next few days, you tried to ignore the fatigue that seemed to cling to you like a heavy blanket. You told yourself it was just the stress, the worry about Mrs. Thomas and the kids. But the truth was, deep down, you knew it was more than that.
Mr. Thomas had been around the house more often, spending almost every moment with his wife before she passed. It would only be a matter of days now. Her condition had deteriorated to the point where she was barely conscious most of the time, her labored breathing a constant reminder of the inevitable.
You moved quietly through the house, keeping the children occupied as best you could. Edwin and Phillip were rambunctious as always, but Ada had grown more subdued. She didnât ask about her mother as often, as if sensing the unspoken truth everyone was trying to shield her from. You noticed how she clung to your side even more than usual, her small hands gripping your skirts, her wide eyes watching you with a kind of quiet understanding that broke your heart.
It was late afternoon, and the house was eerily quiet. The children were playing in the parlor, their laughter muffled behind the closed doors. You had just finished cleaning up the kitchen when a wave of exhaustion hit you. Your legs felt heavy, your chest tight. You hadnât been sleeping well, the stress of Mrs. Thomasâs condition weighing on you, but this was different. Your appetite had been lacking for days, though youâd convinced yourself it was just nerves.
You leaned against the counter, taking a slow, deep breath to steady yourself. It would pass. You just needed rest.
Logan wasnât due to visit tonight. He had mentioned something about work keeping him late, and you didnât want to ask him to come by, though the ache in your chestâthe one you tried to ignoreâlonged for his presence.
Shaking off the lingering fatigue, you made your way upstairs to check on Mrs. Thomas. As you reached the top of the stairs, you heard her soft, raspy breathing. You hesitated outside the door, your hand resting on the doorknob for a moment, before slowly opening it and stepping inside.
Mr. Thomas sat at his wifeâs bedside, holding her hand gently. He glanced up at you, his face pale and drawn, the exhaustion of weeks of worry evident in his eyes. You gave him a small, comforting smile, though you werenât sure how much comfort you could offer.
"Thank you, Y/N," he said quietly, his voice hoarse from lack of sleep and emotion. "For everything."
You nodded, moving to the other side of the bed to check on Mrs. Thomas. Her eyes were closed, her breathing shallow and uneven. She didnât stir when you adjusted the blankets around her. The room was stifling, the air heavy with the scent of sickness, and you fought the urge to cough, your throat suddenly dry.
âSheâs peaceful,â you murmured softly, glancing at Mr. Thomas.
He nodded but didnât say anything. His gaze was fixed on his wife, his hand never leaving hers.
You stayed for a moment longer, but the fatigue creeping up your spine forced you to excuse yourself. As you descended the stairs, your legs felt weaker than before, and a dull ache had settled in your chest. You rubbed absently at your throat, trying to shake off the discomfort. It was nothing, you told yourself. Just tired.
The evening stretched on, the children finally quieting down for bed. You tucked them in, lingering for a moment by Adaâs bedside. She reached for your hand, her tiny fingers curling around yours.
âWill Mama be better soon?â she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
You swallowed the lump in your throat, brushing a lock of hair from her forehead. âSheâs resting, sweetheart,â you said softly. âJust keep being brave, alright?â
Ada nodded, her eyes already heavy with sleep, though the worry didnât leave her small face.
Once they were all asleep, you returned downstairs, your body feeling heavier with each step. The fire in the hearth had burned low, casting long shadows across the room. You sat by the fireplace, staring into the dying flames, and let the silence of the house settle over you.
And then there was a soft knock at the back door.
Your heart lifted despite the exhaustion weighing you down. You rose slowly and crossed the room, opening the door to find Logan standing there, snowflakes dusting his hair and coat. He gave you a crooked smile, his eyes scanning your face with concern.
âYou look tired,â he said softly, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. âReally tired.â
âIâm fine,â you murmured, though the weariness in your voice betrayed you. âI wasnât expecting you tonight.â
âI finished earlier than I thought,â he said, shrugging off his coat and hanging it by the door. âThought Iâd check on you.â
Without another word, he closed the distance between you, his arms wrapping around you in a gentle embrace. You melted into him, resting your head against his chest as the warmth of his body seeped into yours. For a moment, the ache in your chest seemed to ease, the fatigue lifting just a little.
âThank you,â you whispered, your voice barely audible.
Logan pulled back slightly, his hand coming up to cup your cheek as he studied your face. âYou donât have to thank me,â he said softly, his thumb brushing against your skin. âIâm here.â
His lips met yours in a slow, tender kiss, and you felt the tension in your body begin to unravel. The warmth of his mouth, the familiar strength of his hands holding you closeâit was all you needed in that moment. When the kiss ended, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours.
âYou need to rest,â he murmured. âYou look like youâre about to fall over.â
âI will,â you promised, though you didnât want to leave his arms just yet. You leaned into him, letting his presence chase away the exhaustion for a little longer.
---
The funeral was only 6 days later, 4 days after Mrs. Thomasâ passing. She was buried at the Prospect Cemetery at a small affair with rich people you had only heard of in passing.
The funeral was a somber affair. Mrs. Thomas was laid to rest under a sky that threatened snow, and you stood a little ways back, holding Adaâs hand tightly. She had been unusually quiet since her motherâs passing, and even Edwin and Phillip had sensed the weight of the occasion, their usual energy tempered by the somber mood.
You glanced around at the crowd gatheredâa sea of dark, expensive fabrics, murmured condolences, and familiar faces. Most of the people you recognized only by name or through brief encounters at the Thomas house. They didnât seem to belong to the world you inhabited, their whispered conversations and distant gazes a reminder of the divide between their lives and yours.
Mr. Thomas stood near the front, his face a mask of stoicism as he accepted words of sympathy. His children had not left your side, and you knew why. They found more comfort in you than in the strangers who seemed to only appear during tragedies. You didnât blame them.
As the ceremony came to a close, Ada tugged at your hand. "Can we go home now?" she asked quietly, her voice barely audible over the sound of rustling leaves and shifting boots in the cold.
You nodded, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. âWe can, sweetheart. Just a few more minutes.â
You caught Mr. Thomasâs eye as he stepped away from the others. He gave you a weary nod, and you knew it was time to leave. You guided the children back to the carriage, helping them inside before following. The ride home was silent, save for the occasional sniffle from Ada and the creaking of the carriage wheels on the cobbled streets.
---
Back at the house, the quiet felt heavier than before. You could feel the weight of grief settling over everything, and it seemed to seep into your bones, making the fatigue that had been gnawing at you for days feel unbearable. Once the children were settled, you retreated to the kitchen, needing a moment to yourself.
But the moment you sat down, the ache in your chest flared up again, sharper this time. You tried to breathe through it, but the tightness only seemed to get worse. A cold sweat broke out on your forehead, and you pressed a hand to your throat, willing it to pass. It felt like something more than just exhaustion now. Something was wrong, but you didnât have time to worry about it.
The back door creaked open, and you startled, your hand flying to your chest as Logan stepped in. His eyes immediately found yours, narrowing in concern.
âY/N,â he said, his voice low but urgent as he crossed the room. âWhatâs wrong?â
âNothing,â you muttered, forcing a weak smile as you tried to stand. âIâm just tired. Long day.â
But Logan wasnât buying it. His hand caught yours, and he gently pulled you to him, his other hand resting on your waist. âYouâve been tired for days,â he said quietly, his eyes searching yours. âAnd you look worse now than you did a week ago.â
âIâm fine,â you insisted, leaning into his warmth without thinking. âJust... everything with Mrs. Thomas. I havenât been sleeping well, thatâs all.â
Logan didnât say anything for a moment, just held you there, his thumb brushing slow circles against your hip. âYouâre not fine,â he said softly. âYou need to rest. Youâre running yourself into the ground, and I donât wantââ
âI donât want to talk about it,â you cut him off, shaking your head as you buried your face in his chest. âI just... I just want to stay like this for a while. Can we do that?â
Loganâs arms tightened around you, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. âWe can stay like this as long as you need,â he whispered.
The warmth of his embrace, the steady rise and fall of his chest, calmed the rapid beating of your heart. It didnât make the ache in your chest go away, but it dulled the edges for a little while. You stayed like that, your bodies swaying slightly, as if rocking back and forth would somehow soothe the turmoil inside you both.
After a long stretch of silence, Logan pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. His fingers brushed a loose strand of hair from your face, his gaze soft but serious. âYouâve gotta start taking care of yourself,â he murmured. âI mean it, Y/N.â
âI will,â you promised, though you werenât sure how much of it was for him and how much was for yourself. You could see the worry etched in his features, and it made your heart ache in a different way. âI just... I donât want to leave the kids right now. They need me.â
Logan sighed, shaking his head slightly. âThey need you alive and healthy, not running yourself ragged.â
You knew he was right, but the thought of stepping awayâof not being there for them when they needed you mostâmade your stomach turn.
âI know,â you whispered, your voice barely audible. âBut Iâm all they have right now.â
Loganâs expression softened, and he leaned in to kiss you gently, his lips lingering against yours in a way that felt both comforting and urgent, as if he was trying to convey everything he couldnât put into words.
When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. âYouâre not alone in this, Y/N,â he murmured. âIâm here. Always.â
You closed your eyes, letting the weight of his words settle over you. It was moments like this, in the quiet after the storm, that made everything feel bearable, even when the exhaustion seemed impossible to shake. You didnât want to think about what came nextâthe inevitable questions from the children, the grief that would continue to hang over the house like a dark cloud.
For now, you just wanted to be here, with Logan, in this fleeting moment of peace.
---
Over the next few days, that small cough persisted, annoying but easy to brush off at first. You told yourself it was just the cold weather, or maybe the exhaustion still clinging to you. But it stuck around, and soon it wasnât just a cough. Your chest felt heavier, and there were moments where you had to stop to catch your breath.
You didnât say anything to Logan the first few nights he visited, not wanting to worry him. It wasnât like you were coughing up blood or anything, and you figured it would pass, just like the fatigue had started to. But when he saw you rubbing your chest again, his eyes narrowed with concern.
âYouâve been coughing a lot,â Logan said one evening, his arm draped casually over your shoulder as you leaned into him by the fire. The warmth of the flames helped ease the tightness in your chest, but even then, it felt harder to breathe than it had before.
âIâm fine,â you mumbled, tucking your legs under you and snuggling closer to him, hoping to avoid the conversation. âItâs just the cold. Everyoneâs getting sick this time of year.â
Logan tilted his head, clearly unconvinced. âY/N, donât pull that. I know you, and youâre coughing more than you should be. This isnât just a cold.â
You sighed, not wanting to argue, but the exhaustion weighed on you, and fighting him off seemed too tiring. âOkay, maybe itâs not just a cold,â you admitted, glancing at him. âBut itâs nothing serious. Iâm just run down.â
Loganâs fingers gently traced up your arm, his touch familiar and grounding. He looked at you with that steady gaze of his, the one that made you feel safe. âYou need to rest. Real rest, not just five minutes of sleep here and there between looking after the kids.â
You gave him a half-hearted smile, reaching up to touch his face. âI know. But they need me right now, especially Ada. Sheâs not taking this well, and I canât just leave her.â
Logan leaned in and pressed his forehead to yours, his breath warm against your skin. âYouâre no good to them if you collapse from exhaustion.â
The way he said itâso serious, so protectiveâit made your chest ache in a different way. You knew he was right, but the thought of taking a step back when the kids were still hurting felt impossible.
âIâm not going anywhere,â you whispered, but your voice wavered just enough that Logan picked up on it.
He kissed you softly, slow and gentle, like he was trying to pour all of his concern into that one kiss. When he pulled back, his hand lingered on the side of your face. âYou donât have to carry this by yourself, Y/N,â he said softly. âIâm here.â
You looked at him, feeling the weight of his words, and for a moment, you let yourself believe itâthat you didnât have to do everything on your own.
But the next morning, as you moved through the house and got the kids ready for the day, the cough came back with a vengeance. It left you winded, gripping the counter to steady yourself as your breath caught in your throat. Ada was tugging at your skirt, asking for something, but the ringing in your ears made it hard to focus.
âY/N?â her small voice called, but everything sounded distant.
You forced yourself to smile, pushing through the wave of dizziness. âIâm okay, sweetheart,â you said, though it was more for you than her. The ache in your chest was sharper now, and for the first time, a flicker of real fear crossed your mind.
That evening, when Logan came by, you didnât have the energy to hide how bad you felt. The second he walked through the door, he saw it in your face.
âY/N,â he said, his voice urgent as he rushed to your side. âWhat the hell happened? You look worse.â
You tried to brush it off, but the cough came again, harsher this time, and Loganâs eyes darkened with worry. His hands were on you, steadying you as you leaned into him, the warmth of his body grounding you again.
âYouâre not fine,â he said, his tone more serious now. âI shouldâve done something sooner.â
âLogan, donâtââ
âIâm taking you to a doctor,â he interrupted, his jaw set. âNo arguing.â
You wanted to protest, but the truth was, you didnât have the strength to fight him. You were too tired, too worn down, and part of you was scared. So you nodded, letting him pull you into his arms as if holding you close would make everything better.
âIâm here,â Logan whispered against your hair, his voice soft and filled with a tenderness that made your heart ache. âIâll take care of you, okay? Youâre not going through this alone.â
---
The next morning, Logan arrived earlier than usual. He wasnât taking any chances, especially after the night before. Youâd barely slept, your coughing keeping you awake for most of it, and when you did manage to drift off, it was only in short, restless intervals.
Logan helped you into the carriage heâd hired, his hands lingering on your arms longer than necessary, his brow furrowed with worry. He hadnât said much since arriving, just a quiet âMorninââ before ushering you outside. His concern was written all over his face, even though he tried to hide it behind a mask of calm.
You leaned back against the seat, closing your eyes as the carriage bumped along the cobbled streets. Each breath felt heavier, the tightness in your chest worsening by the day. You didnât want to admit it, but you knew this was more than just a cold. The cough had settled deep, rattling in your lungs, and even though you tried to convince yourself it was nothing serious, the thought that it could be something more was gnawing at you.
Logan sat beside you, his knee pressed against yours as he kept a protective hand on your leg. Every so often, youâd feel his gaze on you, watching, as if checking to make sure you were still holding on. The warmth of his presence was a comfort, even if you didnât say it out loud.
When the carriage finally stopped, you opened your eyes and saw the modest sign hanging above the doctor's office. Logan didnât waste any time helping you down, his arm tight around your waist as you made your way inside.
The waiting room was quiet, the air thick with the scent of medicinal herbs. Logan barely let go of you the entire time, his arm never leaving your waist, and when the doctor finally called you in, Logan made it clear he wasnât going anywhere.
Inside the small exam room, the doctorâa middle-aged man with silver hair and a kind faceâgreeted you both with a nod. His expression shifted when he looked at you, though, his eyes softening in a way that made your stomach churn with nerves.
âHow long have you had the cough, miss?â the doctor asked as you sat down, Logan standing right behind you.
âA few days,â you said, your voice raspy and weak. âMaybe a little longer.â
The doctor frowned slightly, moving closer to examine you. âAnd the fatigue? Any weight loss?â
You nodded. âYes... Iâve been really tired, and I havenât had much of an appetite.â
Loganâs hand rested on your shoulder, a silent reassurance that he was there. The doctor continued his examination, listening to your chest with a stethoscope, his brow furrowing as he moved from side to side.
After what felt like an eternity, the doctor stepped back, letting out a slow breath. He met your eyes, and you knew immediately that it wasnât good.
âI donât want to alarm you,â he began, his voice gentle. âBut given your symptoms and the sound of your lungs, I believe you may have contracted tuberculosis.â
The words hung in the air like a heavy weight. You felt Logan tense behind you, his grip on your shoulder tightening ever so slightly.
Tuberculosis.
The sickness that had taken Mrs. Thomas. The same one that had been lingering in the house for weeks.
Your heart pounded in your chest, and for a moment, you couldnât breathe. Youâd heard the storiesâthe way it ravaged families, the way it spread so easily. Youâd seen it firsthand with Mrs. Thomas, watching her waste away before your eyes.
âHow... how bad is it?â Loganâs voice was rough, strained, like he was barely holding himself together.
The doctor glanced at him, his expression serious. âItâs hard to say right now. Tuberculosis can vary greatly in severity. Weâll need to monitor her closely. Rest, proper care, and keeping her away from others as much as possible will be essential.â
You tried to swallow, but your throat felt tight. âWhat... what do we do now?â
The doctor sighed. âWeâll start with treatment to help ease the symptomsâmedicinal herbs, rest, and a strict diet. Itâs crucial that you avoid any further exertion. Youâll need to isolate yourself to prevent it from spreading.â
You nodded, but your mind was spinning. The thought of being confined, of having to stay away from the childrenâit made your chest tighten even more. How were you supposed to care for them when you couldnât even take care of yourself?
Logan crouched down in front of you, his eyes searching yours as he held your hands in his. âWeâll figure this out, okay?â he said softly. âYouâll rest, and Iâll help with the kids. Youâre not doing this alone.â
Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away. You didnât want to cry, didnât want Logan to see how scared you really were.
âI donât want to leave them,â you whispered, your voice shaking. âThey need me.â
âI know,â Logan murmured, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against your hand. âBut they need you healthy, Y/N. And I need you healthy.â
You looked at him, your heart aching at the sight of his worry. He was trying so hard to be strong for you, to keep it together, but you could see the fear in his eyesâthe same fear you felt deep in your bones.
âWeâll get through this,â he said firmly. âYouâre not going anywhere, okay? Not without a fight.â
You nodded, squeezing his hands as tightly as you could. Logan stayed close, his presence a steady, comforting force as the weight of the diagnosis settled over you both.
---
Weeks passed, and the house became quieter. The children were kept at a distance, the once lively home now feeling more like a tomb as you spent your days in bed, trying to gather what little strength you had left. Logan had taken over your duties, ensuring the children were cared for while also staying close to you.
Your body grew weaker with each passing day, the illness creeping deeper into your lungs. The once mild cough had turned into something far more painful, leaving you breathless and exhausted after every fit. You knew, deep down, that the end was approaching. You could feel it in the way your energy dwindled, the way even opening your eyes took effort.
Logan, on the other hand, refused to give up. He never spoke of what was coming, never let on that he saw the same inevitable truth. Instead, he clung to hope, pushing you to eat, to drink, to rest. His presence was a constant, grounding you even in your weakest moments.
Sometimes you even talked about the future, the one you knew you would never have, and the one Logan hoped you would, with him.
Your coughing fit had died down for now, leaving you in bed with your head resting against Loganâs shoulder. His arm was wrapped protectively around you, and the warmth of his body gave you a sense of comfort, even when the pain in your chest didnât. You took in a shaky breath and spoke softly.
âIâve always wanted a dog,â you murmured, your voice still weak. âMaybe two.â
Logan shifted slightly, his chin resting on top of your head. âYeah? What kind?â
You shrugged, smiling a little. âDoesnât really matter. I just like the idea of having something waiting for me at home, you know? Something happy to see me, no matter what kind of day Iâve had.â
He chuckled quietly, the sound vibrating through his chest. âYouâd be a good dog mom.â
You looked up at him, a playful glint in your tired eyes. âYou think?â
âDefinitely. Youâve already got all the practice with the kids.â He paused, his thumb gently brushing the back of your hand. âExcept maybe the dog would be less trouble.â
You laughed, but it turned into a cough, and you quickly brought a hand to your mouth. Logan tensed beside you, waiting until the coughing subsided before speaking again.
âYouâre gonna get better, Y/N,â he said softly, his voice firm, but the edge of worry was clear. âWeâll get you that dog. Or two.â
You didnât respond right away. You wanted to believe himâreally, you didâbut each day you felt weaker, and it was getting harder to ignore the reality of your situation. But you also didnât want to drag him down with your fears, so you leaned into him instead, letting the moment linger.
You put your chin on his shoulder, looking up at him, âhow many kids would you want?â
Logan looked at you, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. âKids, huh?â His voice was warm, teasing, but there was something tender in the way he looked at you, like he was imagining it for real.
âYeah,â you said, resting your chin on his shoulder, eyes searching his face. âI know itâs kind of silly to think about right now, but... I like the idea. You?â
He took a breath, his fingers tracing absent patterns on your arm. âI donât know,â he admitted. âNever really thought much about it until you.â
You raised an eyebrow. âUntil me?â
Logan chuckled softly. âYeah. Before you, I wasnât really thinkinâ about things like... a future, you know? I didnât even know if Iâd stay in the city long. But now... now I think about things I never used to.â He paused, glancing down at your hand, his fingers interlacing with yours. âLike kids, and... us.â
Your heart fluttered at that, the weight of his words settling in. Heâd never said anything like that beforeânothing about the future beyond today or tomorrow. It wasnât like either of you knew what was coming, especially now, but hearing him say that he thought about you in that way made everything feel more real. More possible.
You grinned, nudging him playfully. âSo, how many then? Two? Three?â
Logan laughed quietly. âTwo sounds good. Just enough to keep us on our toes, but not so many we lose our minds.â
You giggled, a sound that quickly turned into a cough, and Loganâs smile faded a little, worry creeping back into his eyes. But he didnât say anything. Instead, he just held you closer, his arms wrapping around you like he could shield you from everything bad in the world.
Once the cough subsided, you leaned your head back against his chest. âI think youâd be a good dad, Logan.â
His hand stilled against your arm. âYou think?â
âYeah,â you said softly. âYouâre good with the kids now, even if you donât realize it. They like you, trust you. Youâd protect them... care for them.â
Logan was quiet for a moment, and you could feel the weight of his thoughts. âIâd try,â he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.
The warmth of his body, the steadiness of his presenceâit was enough to make you forget, for just a little while, how weak you felt. You closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into the comfort of him, of this moment, even though you knew it wouldnât last.
âDo you ever wonder what itâd be like?â you asked quietly. âIf we didnât have to worry about... this.â You gestured vaguely, meaning the illness, the uncertainty, all of it.
âAll the time,â Logan murmured. âBut weâve still got time, Y/N. Iâm not giving up on you.â
You opened your eyes, looking up at him. âYou really think weâll make it through this?â
Loganâs gaze was unwavering. âI know we will.â
His confidence, his belief in you, in this, made your heart ache in the best way. You wanted to believe him, wanted to hold onto that hope, even though the fear lingered in the back of your mind.
âYou donât have to be so tough all the time,â Logan said gently, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. âItâs okay to lean on me.â
You looked at him, your chest tight for a different reason now. âI know.â
And you did. Logan was always there, steady and unshakable, even when you felt like you were falling apart. You didnât have to do this alone, even if part of you still felt like you should.
Logan leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than usual. âIâm with you, Y/N,â he whispered. âNo matter what.â
You closed your eyes again, savoring the warmth of his kiss, the feeling of his arms around you. For now, that was enough.
But even as you rested against him, part of you couldnât shake the nagging feeling that your time was running out.
---
Logan hated the fact that everything you said was in past tense. How you wouldâve liked to learn how to bake bread in that cabin you wanted.
How you wouldâve liked to learn how to crochet.
Logan sat on the edge of the bed, watching you with a quiet intensity. You had been talking again, your voice soft and tired, about all the things you wished you had more time to do. It was starting to drive him crazyâthe way you spoke in past tense, like you were already halfway gone.
âWouldâve liked to learn how to crochet,â he repeated softly, his eyes never leaving your face.
You smiled, but it didnât reach your eyes. âYeah. I always thought itâd be nice to make something with my hands. You know, like a blanket or something... for the cabin.â
Loganâs chest tightened. He hated thisâhated that you were talking about all these little dreams like they were out of reach. He leaned forward, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. âYouâre gonna be fine, Y/N,â he said, trying to sound more certain than he felt. âYouâll still have time for all that.â
You met his gaze, your eyes soft but filled with something elseâsomething that made his heart ache. âLogan...â
âNo,â he interrupted, shaking his head. âYou donât get to talk like that. Weâre gonna get you through this.â
You let out a soft sigh, your hand coming up to touch his cheek. âYou donât always have to be strong, you know. Itâs okay to be scared.â
âIâm not scared,â Logan said quickly, though the way he gripped your hand a little tighter gave him away. He wasnât ready to admit itâto you, to himselfâthat the thought of losing you scared him more than anything heâd ever faced.
You smiled faintly, shifting on the bed so you could lean into him. âI know you, Logan. You donât have to pretend for me.â
Logan felt his throat tighten as you pressed closer to him. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you into his chest, trying to hold on to the moment for as long as he could. Your body felt so fragile against his, like you could break if he held you too tight. But he needed to feel you, to remind himself that you were still here.
âDonât,â Logan said, his voice thick with emotion. âDonât talk like that.â He looked away for a second, trying to regain control of the storm raging inside him. He didnât want to hear the finality in your voice, didnât want to acknowledge the possibility that you might slip away from him.
You reached out, your hand trembling slightly as you touched his cheek. âLogan, you know as well as I do...â
âNo,â he repeated, cutting you off again, his voice gruff but shaky. His hand covered yours, pressing it gently against his face. âIâm not losing you. I donât care what the doctor says. Weâll fight this. Weâll get through it.â
There was a long silence between you, the air heavy with the unspoken truth. You didnât have the heart to argue with him, but you knew. You could feel it in your bones, in the way your body was failing you little by little every day. But Loganâs refusal to accept that reality made you love him even more, even if it hurt.
You gave him a sad smile, your eyes locking with his. âI love you, Logan.â
His breath caught, and for a moment, he couldnât speak. The weight of those wordsâwords youâd both danced around but never truly saidâhit him like a punch to the gut. He leaned in close, his forehead resting against yours, his voice barely a whisper.
âI love you too, Y/N,â he finally said, his voice breaking just a little.
You closed your eyes, letting the warmth of his words wash over you. It wasnât fair, any of this. Youâd only just begun to imagine a life with him, and now that future was slipping through your fingers.
Logan held you tighter, his arms wrapped around you as if he could protect you from everything, even death. He kissed your forehead, then your cheek, before pressing a final, lingering kiss to your lips. It wasnât passionate or desperateâjust soft, filled with all the love he hadnât yet had the chance to show you.
âIâm here,â he whispered again, his lips brushing against your skin. âAlways.â
And for a moment, despite the pain, despite everything, you believed him. Because even if the future was uncertain, even if you didnât have much time left, you had this. You had him. And for now, that was enough.
---
Nothing had worked, and nothing was working.
You had already accepted your fate, but Logan couldnâtâno matter how many times you tried to explain. He kept his focus on you, his stubborn hope unwavering, even though you both knew time was running out.
âYouâre gonna be fine, Y/N. Youâll see,â he said softly, sitting beside you on the bed. He brushed a hand through your hair, his touch gentle, but the worry in his eyes was impossible to miss.
You looked up at him, your chest tightânot from the sickness, but from the overwhelming love you felt for him in that moment. âLogan... we need to talk about this.â
He shook his head immediately, his jaw clenched. âNo, we donât. We donât have to talk about anything like that. Youâre gonna get better, and weâll figure everything out.â His voice cracked just a little at the end, betraying the fear he was trying to hide.
You reached for his hand, your fingers trembling as they closed around his. âI donât want to pretend anymore. I donât want to spend what little time we have left lying to ourselves.â
Logan looked down at your intertwined hands, his thumb tracing slow circles on your skin. âBut I canât... I canât think about losing you.â
âYou donât have to think about it,â you whispered, leaning your head against his shoulder. âBut we need to be honest with each other. Iâm not getting better, Logan. We both know that.â
His whole body tensed beside you, and he turned his head away as if looking anywhere but at you would somehow make your words less real. âI canât... I canât lose you, Y/N.â
You swallowed the lump in your throat and leaned closer, pressing your lips softly to his jaw. âI love you, Logan. Thatâs all that matters to me right now.â
His breath hitched, and for a long moment, he didnât say anything. He just sat there, holding you as if he could protect you from the inevitable, his arms tightening around you.
After a while, he finally spoke, his voice barely a whisper. âI love you too. More than anything. Thatâs why Iâm not giving up.â
You pulled back slightly, looking up at him, your heart breaking for him. âI know youâre trying to protect me... but I donât want you to carry this alone. I need you to be here with me, in this moment, not fighting something we canât change.â
Loganâs eyes met yours, and for a second, the wall heâd built around himself seemed to crack. âI donât know how to do that,â he admitted. âI donât know how to just... be.â
âYou donât have to be strong all the time,â you whispered, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek. âYou can let go.â
His eyes softened, and before you could say anything else, Logan leaned in and kissed youâsoft, but with an intensity that made your heart ache. It was a kiss that said everything he couldnât put into words: the fear, the love, the desperation to hold onto whatever time you had left.
When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breath shaky. âI donât know how to say goodbye,â he whispered.
You closed your eyes, your hand still resting on his cheek. âWe donât have to say goodbye yet. Just stay with me. Thatâs all I want.â
Logan didnât respond with words. Instead, he held you tighter, his arms wrapping around you as if he could keep you with him through sheer willpower alone. You could feel the tremble in his hands, the way his breath hitched every now and then like he was fighting back tears.
For a while, you both stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, the world outside fading into nothingness. There was no cough, no sickness, no uncertaintyâjust the warmth of Loganâs body against yours and the steady beat of his heart beneath your hand.
Eventually, you spoke, your voice barely audible. âI wish we had more time.â
Loganâs grip tightened slightly. âMe too.â
You felt a lump in your throat, but you forced a small smile. âYou know... if things were different, I think weâd have had a pretty good life together.â
Loganâs voice was thick with emotion as he replied, âWe still will. Somehow... someday.â
You leaned your head against his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. âMaybe in another life.â
Logan didnât say anything, but you could feel the way his body stiffened, like he couldnât stand the thought of losing you againâeven in another life.
âYou donât have to be alone, Logan,â you whispered, your voice soft but filled with all the love you had left. âPromise me you wonât shut yourself off.â
He was silent for a long moment, and when he finally spoke, his voice was rough and raw. âI canât promise that.â
You smiled faintly, knowing that was the best you were going to get from him. âJust... donât forget me.â
Logan leaned down and pressed another kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a long time. âI could never forget you.â
The room was quiet after that, the only sound the soft rustling of the blankets as Logan adjusted you in his arms, pulling you closer.
You closed your eyes, feeling the exhaustion creeping in again, but this time it didnât feel so overwhelming. With Loganâs warmth surrounding you, with his quiet strength holding you up, you felt at peace.
---
You had passed away in your sleep that night, in Loganâs arms. He had stayed up, something in his subconscious telling him to keep his eye on you.
And he did, he felt you take your last breath; one that didnât seem as painful as when you were awake.
Logan held you close, his arms tightening around you instinctively as he realized what had just happened. His mind refused to process it, refused to accept that this was it. He stared at you, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with breaths that felt foreign in his own body. You werenât moving anymore, not even the faintest stir.
For a long time, he didnât let go. He couldnât. His arms stayed wrapped around you, his face buried in your hair, willing his warmth into your body as if that could somehow bring you back.
"Y/N..." he whispered, his voice broken. He lifted his head slightly, his thumb brushing your cold cheek. "Please... wake up."
There was no answer.
Logan swallowed hard, his throat burning, his chest tightening. His hand trembled as it caressed your face, fingers gently tucking your hair behind your ear like heâd done a hundred times before. But this time, there was no playful smile in return. No teasing comment about how messy your hair always was.
It was quiet. Too quiet.
He let out a shaky breath, his other hand clutching the bedsheet, the weight of what had happened finally starting to crush him. He knew this moment was comingâheâd known it for weeks, maybe even monthsâbut now that it was here, it didnât feel real. He couldnât understand how it had come to this, how someone as full of life as you could just... stop.
âY/N... donât do this... please,â he whispered again, his voice barely audible as if saying it any louder would make it more true. His hand lingered on your cheek, hoping for even the smallest sign that youâd take another breath.
But nothing came.
He stayed like that for a long time, just holding you, feeling the weight of your stillness.
Logan had never felt so powerless in his life. For all the things he could do, for all the strength in his bones, none of it could save you. His healing couldnât save you. The realization cut him deeper than any wound ever had.
At some point, he felt his chest tremble, felt the tears start to burn at the corners of his eyes. He hadnât cried in years, maybe everânot like thisâbut he couldnât stop it now. Not when heâd lost you.
âI... I love you,â he choked out, the words falling from his lips like a confession, like an apology for not saying it enough while you were still here to hear it. He pressed his forehead to yours, his voice breaking again. âI love you so much...â
The room was silent, except for the sound of Loganâs ragged breathing and the ticking of the old clock in the corner, each second passing with an agonizing slowness. He wished he could turn it back, go back to when you were still hereâlaughing, talking, smiling. Anything but this.
But he couldnât.
And the weight of that realization shattered him.
For the first time in his life, Logan had no fight left in him. Not for this. Not without you.
i'm not gonna lie, i definitely started crying while writing those last few scenes, even though i knew how it was gonna end
just a little note for everyone (i'll probably add this at the end of every chapter just cause it helped me when writing) in this chapter, logan is 22 years old and reader is around the same age.
tags: @seasonofthenerd @golden-ebony @planetxella @tighrenicotine @wittyjasontodd @cherrypieyourface @tumharisakhi @person-005 @zaggprincess2
#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you#wolverine x reader#wolverine x you#james howlett x reader#james howlett x you#logan howlett#logan howlett fanfiction#logan howlett x fem!reader#logan howlett fic#i love you in every time
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đđ đđ pairings: yandere mafia namjoon x barmaid f!reader genre: dark romance, smut, slight porn with plot, 90s word count: 19,7K beta read by @chaoticpuff17 (ily)
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summary: âYou are something I can sin forâ An anchor amidst the stormy seas of life â thatâs what Namjoon is for you. But it wasnât always like that. There was a time where youâve resented Namjoon with every fibre of your being and every word that came out of his plump lips after what he had done to prove his power. Unfortunately, you will never know what life could be if Kim Namjoon was not in it.
warnings: minors dni 18+ | sexual tension, emotional distress, teasing, yandere behaviour, obsessive behaviour, manipulation, reader meets namjoon when she was young - nothing happenes until she's of age, forced engagement, kidnapping, graphic violence, death, murder, blood, explicit language, misogyny, mentions of feminism, alcohol usage, mentions of religion and God, church smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, oppa-kink and so on (i'll add some if i'll forget)
disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain strong language, explicit content, obsessive behaviour, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, oppressiveness, which we do not condone.
a/n: So here we are! This is the story I've been thrilled to share as it unfolds almost simultaneously with Champagne Confetti. Y/N, alias Peaches, is my baby, and I cannot wait to write more for her and Namjoon after my current project wraps up, wink wink. I have drafts for other fics set in the same universe as my current work and the new one, Anubis. Step by step, my fairies â„
I hope you will enjoy reading this piece I've kept to myself for a long time. The best thing about writing is that I get to build this world of imagination and live in it for months before it gets to you. Sooo, I'm very nervous and excited to push Anubis out as a second fic within this universeâ which now I have decided is going to be called â đđđđ€ đđš đđđđ. Without further ado, enjoy, fairies! â„
1996
There's a soft whisper in your bones, each time you wake up in the morning. As your eyes flutter open, the room is dimly lit, shadows dancing on the ceiling. All your demons are staring at you from above. They have been there when you went to sleep, and they are still there when you wake up. You know them all too wellâregrets, doubts, fearsâthey've become familiar companions in the lonely hours of the night. They whisper tales of your failures, amplifying every mistake, every misstep, until they echo like thunder in your mind.
But would it be any different if your steps turned the other direction? Would the cosmos allow you to be? Possibly. You, however, will never know what life would be without blood flowing down the stream, dirty money from all the sins you've watched being committed.
You will never know what life could be if Kim Namjoon was not in it. But the thought is fleeting, for you know deep down that he is as much a part of your story as the demons that haunt you. His presence has shaped you in ways both profound and subtle, leaving an indelible mark on your soul and your body. The agonising pain within still remains and all you can think of is how did you get to this point in your story.
"Bitches come and go, Peachesâ" you recalled those words like it was yesterday they were uttered.
"âbut you and him, love, you be for life."
An anchor amidst the stormy seas of life â that's what Namjoon is for you. But it wasn't always like that. There was a time when you resented Namjoon and every word that came out of his plump lips.
Kim Namjoon was trouble and the whole Bronx knew so. Heck, even the whole state knew what kin he came from. You were no exception. But whatever you did, you never managed to put distance between you two.
The world seemed both infinitely vast and impossibly small when the streets of the Bronx were your stage. You were young when you met Namjoon, a whirlwind of youthful energy and reckless abandon, there he is, so vivid in your memories.
Every time you'd help around Anubis, you could see his straying eyes. He had an aura of mischief that drew you in like a moth to a flame. You remember the way his gaze lingered on your skin, straying from the task at hand to fixate on you with a mixture of fascination.
Namjoon's reputation preceded him like a shadow cast by the noonday sun. Entirely impossible to overlook, yet you did. His name was whispered in hushed tones in the back alleys and dark corners where his influence held sway, and that was only the beginning. The magnitude he reached decades later is for another story.
You had heard the rumorsâthe tales of his involvement with the local gangs, the whispers of his connections to the underworld that lurked beneath the surface of the city. Certainly, you would have to be lying if you said that Anubis was completely legal. You were not that stupid. While it bore the façade of a legitimate establishment, its roots ran deep into the murky waters of the criminal underworld.
Mrs. Jung could smile as widely as she wanted and reassure you that all was fine and all was taken care of, but you couldn't ignore the whispers that circulated about Anubis. Yet she paid triple what you could get in any regular bar. Not like you could work at a regular bar at the time at your age. Survival often depended on turning a blind eye to the unsavory realities of life that you would never be able to face alone. Money was tight and you could not afford to lose such a good-paying job. Even if it took what it took.
"His eyes are hungry for you, Peachesâ" said Mrs. Jung while toying with the little umbrella that was swimming in her Kamasutra drink you'd prepared just a few minutes ago. You envisioned your life in the city just like she had, Saint Laurent heels clicking loudly as you would walk down the streets of Manhattan. You admired your lady boss from her head to toes. Mrs. Jung was a symbol of pussy and power. Until she was not. The power was given to her and once she rejected to meet the expectations, it was taken from her.
"âBut that's all he can do, at least for now."
She winked your way and then her attention turned to the approaching male figure. What she meant by that is loud and clear. You are underaged and Namjoon cannot make any move on you even if he wanted to. And you knew he respects you that much. Although something tells you that this would be the least illegal thing he wouldâve committed.
Youâve met Mark Tuan on occasion when he stopped by the bar. She was not Mrs Jung at the time, yet the notorious life of your lady boss, confused you even then. The way she and Mr Jung behaved around each other gave you the impression that he is her lover and not the tattooed boy that fucked the brains out of her in the office upstairs.
You felt the pain that was reflected on Jung Hoseokâs face when he asked where is she and you had to answer truthfully. The only thing you knew about Namjoon was that he and the Jungs ran way back. Their primary, and to the upper worldâs eye, legal assets were the distilleries that distribute whiskey and brandy which you were serving each night till early hours of the morning.
The moment he particularly chose to visit the bar only those evenings youâve been around was a louder hint shouted your way. As if you havenât already figured. There was something intoxicating about the way he moved through the world and the way he moved you once your eyes locked.
The way he spoke to you, listened to you so attentively, gave advice on occasion and provided a shoulder to lean on, was all pulling you to him even more. It made you forget about all the skeletons that were in his closet.
The air crackled with anticipation as he walked through the room each night, straight to you, his gaze fixing on you with a mixture of fascination and desire. But amidst the heat of the moment, there was a shadow of doubt that lingered in the back of your mind.
Mrs. Jung's sudden disappearance, Namjoon taking over the day-to-day operations of Anubisâit all seemed too convenient, too perfect to be mere coincidence. It gave him the opportunity to watch you, keep you safe. You were scared that he'd cut you off whenever you fucked up something. But he never did; rather the opposite, offering you a lifeline when you needed it most. There was a chemistry between you that defied explanation, a silent understanding that transcended words.
The way his muscular torso almost pressed against yours in the storage room took your breath away instantly. The faint scent of his cologne enveloped you as he leaned in closer, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. Surrounded by crates and boxes of expensive alcoholic beverages, the world seemed to fade away. His hand brushed against yours while he was lifting it, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins as you met his gaze. Reaching above your head to envelop his slender fingers around the throat of the bottle that you could not reach before, he slowly moved closer to hover above your lips. You trembled under his gaze on your lips that were slightly parted; you were panting at this point, reminding you of the dangers that lurked beneath the surface of your forbidden romance.
"Just a moment longer."
His voice was a low murmur, a seductive whisper that sent a thrill racing through your veins. Despite the warning bells that rang in the recesses of your mind, you couldn't deny the pull he had over you, the magnetic attraction that drew you closer with each passing moment, his presence overwhelming in the confined space of the storage room. You knew that this was wrong, and yet, as his breath ghosted over your skin, you couldn't bring yourself to pull away.
You would never deny it, but you could not accept it and return his affections the way he wished you would. This was temporary. You never planned to stay in Anubis for longer than needed. It was not where you belonged, and the criminal underbelly of the Bronx was not the life you had envisioned for yourself.
You could not understand what made him stay away from you for such a long time. But it certainly created an opening for you to re-think your next steps.
Somehow, being twenty-one did make you feel the anticipation of living a life. Almost twenty-two when you graduated from college that could be paid as your earnings in Anubis allowed so. Slowly, your little life in the farthest corner of Bronx would come to an end and you could move into the city. Get a job, maybe even a man and kids later. You wanted that white-picket-fence life and you knew that if you wanted to live it peacefully, staying here was not an option.
Your father was strongly against you leaving even though he never approved of the life you led in the dark of nights. He was not a saint either, his hands stained with the same sins that plagued the streets of the Bronx. There was no man in the whole New York City that would not know the name Kim Namjoon and your father was not an exception. Although, you never had the courage to mention his name and acknowledge that the man your father praises when he drinks his beer and plays poker with his drunkard old pals, is spending his evenings talking to you.
"I tell ya all, that Namjoon boy has got a head on his shoulders like no other," your father's voice boomed across the small kitchen.
"A real businessman, that one," a flicker of unease stirring in the pit of your stomach as you caught sight of the familiar glint of admiration in your step-father's eyes. Namjoon's name hung in the air between you, a silent reminder of the bond that had formed between you in the shadows of Anubis.
"I wouldn't be surprised if he ended up running this whole city someday, right, Peaches?" You forced a smile, a wave of uncertainty washing over you as you considered the implications of your father's words. Namjoon's ambitions were as vast as the city itself, his influence reaching far beyond the confines of Anubis and the criminal underworld it symbolized.
"That's Mr. Jung's place, dad," you shook your head disapprovingly but with a smile on your face. His comrades laughed and shared similar ideas as he did though.
"That would be a boy for your Peaches," one of his comrades chuckled, the sound echoing off the walls of the cramped kitchen as they continued to sing Namjoon's praises after you only silently smiled again and opted not to respond. Your father however scoffed. He praised him, yes. But would he approve of his only child being with such a man like Namjoon is?
"When are you leaving for the city, young Missy?" Old man whose name you've never known asked with a cigarette in his mouth, looking over his cards rather than your way.
"Don't even support her in that big apple bullshit." You felt a pang of disappointment at his lack of support, but you were not surprised. You glanced around the kitchen, meeting the eyes of the men gathered there, each one offering their own opinion on your future. Some nodded in agreement with your step-father, while others remained silent, their expressions unreadable.
"Don't listen to those old men, childâ"
"You got dreams, girl. Don't let nobody hold you back from chasing 'em.â
Truth to be told. The job, white fence, man and kids were not your dreams. You did not really know what to dream of, being restricted in such a dark part of the world that Bronx was for many, you did not even know why you hate your home like that. And you certainly werenât even sure what is it to have a dream. But you hoped youâll create some once you step your foot down, somewhere else than here. It doesnât have to be Manhattan in particular. Anywhere but here is fine.
"Peaches, love, be sweet and bring us another beer from the fridge on your way to work, would ya?"
The request snapped you out of your thoughts, bringing you back to the present moment. With a nod, you forced a smile, hiding the turmoil within as you moved to comply with his request. You were sure you'd be late to your shift at Anubis yet again, but you knew that Namjoon would turn a blind eye. He always did when it came to you.
But Namjoon was not present the moment you stepped into Anubis that night. As you made your way through the dimly lit interior of Anubis, a sense of foreboding settled over you like a heavy blanket. The usual hustle and bustle of the bar seemed muted, the air thick with tension as you approached the bar.
Mrs. Jung was still nowhere to be found and therefore, for a few months, Namjoon had replaced her. But tonight he was not here. He usually came around ten p.m. and stayed until you cleaned the very last table and closed the bar.
Taking a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and set about your duties, determined to carry on despite the growing sense of unease that lingered in the air. But as the night wore on, the feeling of dread only intensified, leaving you on edge as you awaited Namjoon's return.
You watched the sun rising through the large windows that let the light come into the bar that was still beaming with a significant number of people of various ages. Despite your efforts to focus on your tasks, your thoughts kept drifting back to him. Where could he be? Why hadn't he shown up as usual? The questions nagged at you, fueling the unease that had settled in your stomach like a lead weight.
"Peaches?!" You heard the voice of one of the local and returning customers from the other side of the dancing floor. He was a friend. Or so you thought. He raised two fingers into the air and in a second you were already pouring the brownish liquid of Jung's Whiskey into the crystal-clear glasses.
You walked over to the table he was sitting at alongside a face you'd never seen before. Thanking you for the drinks, he pointed his thumb to the man sitting next to him.
"Peaches, Jinyoungâ"
"Jinyoung, Peaches."
You offered a polite smile, acknowledging the introduction as you set down the drinks on the table. The unfamiliar man, Jinyoung, returned the gesture with a nod, his expression unreadable.
"Nice to meet you, Jinyoung," you replied, your voice tinged with a hint of curiosity.
Jinyoung's gaze met yours, his eyes dark and probing as if searching for something within you. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of discomfort under his scrutiny, a feeling that only added to the unease already gnawing at your insides. Something about him set off alarm bells in your mind, a primal instinct warning you to tread carefully.
"What's a beauty like you doing tucked in Anubis?" Jinyoung asked, his voice smooth and velvety. You glanced around the dimly lit bar, suddenly aware of the eyes that seemed to linger on you from every corner, not understanding why.
"I... I work here," you said, a sudden shyness prevailing on the surface. You never really engaged with other men apart from Namjoon. For some reason, each time a man approached you, all of them quickly backed out, opting to not even look your way. For a long time, you did not know what you did wrong to chase them all away. But you got to know that night.
Jinyoung's lips quirked into a knowing smile, his gaze never leaving yours.
"I can offer you a better job, beauty," his words dripping with a seductive allure, and in that moment, you decided you needed to get back to work ASAP. He sounded like trouble you did not want on your last days here.
"I... I appreciate the offer, but I'm quite content here," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.
"You sure? I could have good use of someone like you, Peaches." Your heart pounded in your chest as Jinyoung's words washed over you. He played with your name on his tongue, and you had a hint that the job he was offering you would be something much worse than working in Anubis.
"Easy, Jinyoung, that's Namjoon's girl you're talking to." Jackson finally spoke up as if he heard your little begging in your head, but this was not what you expected him to say. Were you Namjoon's girl? Years went by and he merely brushed upon your hand with his own. There was no attempt to woo you directly. So how come everyone saw it this wayâyou as Namjoon's girl?
"I'm not Namjoon's girlâ" you said, standing your ground for once. You saw Jackson's eyes widen and Jinyoung smirk at your remark.
"I'm no one's girlâ"
"Nonetheless, thanks for the offer but I have to decline." Jinyoung's smirk widened at your words, his gaze flickering with amusement as if he found your defiance entertaining. A second later you were on your way back to the bar. He was Jackson's friend, but he was crude and he did not understand he ought to fuck off. The grip you suddenly felt on your upper arm was painful enough to make you wince, yanking you back as you squinted your eyes from the pain of his touch.
"What makes you say no if you're no one's sluâ" your ears picked up his words before they were silenced. Forever. His last words were cut off by a deafening gunshot, leaving you frozen in shock. The sound of it still ringing in your ears as you turned to see the source of the chaos. There, standing with a smoking gun in his hand, was Namjoon, his expression unreadable as he stared down at Jinyoung's lifeless form. One side of Jackson's face was covered in blood that was his friend's, his shock mirroring your own. And you were scared to even move an inch.
Namjoon had just killed a man in cold blood, he shot him right in front of you. Without mercy. Panic surged through you as you realized the gravity of what had just transpired. The grip he had on your upper arm weakened yet remained even after his head fell down. It was a clear shot to the side of his head.
By now, half of the bar emptied, only those underworld rats stayed unfazed. Namjoon was always so calm, so collected. But now, he looked like a completely different person. The bar had fallen into an eerie silence, broken only by the sound of your own ragged breathing. You wanted to run, but your legs failed you, unable to move as the reality of the situation sank in.
"Whatâ" your heart hammered in your chest as you searched for something, anything, to say, but the words caught in your throat, choked by the weight of the moment. Your whole body trembled uncontrollably, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. You reached to pull your hand away from Jinyoung's lifeless grip and while you struggled to do so, the scenery before you was not helping you to calm down. The side of his head blown up, you could see parts of his brain, immediately making you empty your stomach on the floor. The fact that Namjoon hadn't said a word since he literally came out of nowhere was not contributing to the situation either.
You heard his smooth voice but it was too muffled at this point. He was giving orders to Jackson, but you did not understand a single word coming out of his mouth. Your head was spinning and the room felt like a carousel.
"Why would youâ" you began to stutter, your voice barely a whisper. The question died on your lips, swallowed by the overwhelming sense of dread that hung heavy in the air. Namjoon had just committed an act of unspeakable violence, ending a man's life without a second thought. Nothing will be the same ever again. You stayed out of all the illegalness that surrounded Anubis on purpose. What eyes don't see, heart doesn't hurt. What you don't know, can't hurt you. But now you eye-witnessed such brutality and he won't let you walk away to the other end of the rainbow.
You did not expect him to hear you nor even answer your remark, but of course, Kim Namjoon was always here to listen to you.
"He touched you."
The words hit you like a physical blow, jolting you out of your stunned silence. He wasn't just stating a fact; he was issuing a warning, a chilling reminder of the consequences of crossing him. Looking him in the eye, he looked like a possessive maniac, like someone determined to protect what he perceived as his.
"He didn'tâ" you began, your voice faltering under the weight of Namjoon's scrutiny. Yet you stopped yourself to think whether Jinyoung's intentions were harmless or not. You remembered the way Jinyoung had leered at you, his touch lingering where it shouldn't have.
"No one can touch you, Peaches."
You felt a chill run down your spine as the weight of his words settled over you. It wasn't just a declaration; it was a promise, a vow to protect you at any cost. But beneath the surface, you sensed something darker, something primal and possessive that sent chills down your body.
You were paralyzed by the intensity of his gaze, unable to tear your eyes away from his. Your mind raced with a million thoughts and questions, but you knew better than to voice them.
That night you started to hate each and every gaze he threw your way when you were working, all the men running away after uttering a single word to you, and all the remarks about you being Namjoon's girl.
But were you ready to be Namjoon's girl? To be part of his world?
You sit up, the sheets clinging to your skin like a shroud, and confront the spectres that linger above. Even after some weeks, you still cannot shake off the tremor you've experienced that night.
"Peaches?!" You heard your father's voice. You were hidden in the confines of your small room for days now, coming out only to take a bottle of water, and even that you managed to minimize by taking the whole six-pack. You couldn't bring yourself to respond.
The look in Namjoon's eyes, the sound of the gunshot ringing in your ears, the sight of Jinyoung's lifeless bodyâall of it was seared into your mind, haunting you like a relentless spectre. You needed some time. But it was running out quickly.
Lost in the labyrinth of your thoughts, you remained silent, grappling with the weight of the choices that lay before you. You packed your bag last night, all the cash stuffed inside at various places, just to be turned right back on your heel by two muscular men you'd never met before. The color they wore was emerald green, and you quickly understood that those were Jung soldiers, if you could call them that.
Your father was similarly confused. His eyes were darting between you and the soldiers as he struggled to make sense of the situation. So here you are, awaiting when he will decide to collect you. What is he waiting for? You knew that your time was running out; you just didn't know exactly when it would run out.
In that moment that night, you missed the Namjoon you thought he was. All you could see was a stranger, a dangerous man whose actions had shattered your illusions and left you reeling in their wake. Yes, you knew his line of work, but you'd rather not see it with your own two eyes. You'd rather stay oblivious to who he really was just to keep the picture of the Namjoon you knew hanging a little bit longer.
"You can't hide there forever." And you certainly did not plan to, but coming out to see your father's worried face after he sees how disheveled you look could wait for another day or so. You did not know what Namjoon intended to achieve by making you a prisoner in your own home.
Every fiber of your being wanted to hate Namjoon, but you did not know whether that was even possible with how smart that man was with his mouth.
This cage of fear and uncertainty made you uneasy. The wind that forcefully closed your window awoke you from your thoughts. You lived on the second floor of an old block of apartments. You moved toward the old rusted window, cautiously pushing it open again. The cool night air rushed to meet your cheeks, and you closed your eyes to feel it.
Peering down, you assessed the drop. It wasn't too high, and the fire escape just below offered a feasible route. Why had it not occurred to you earlier?
"Peaches, please, talk to me. They've been saying that you can't go out and should wait for sajangnim Kim."
Your father's voice was strained, a mix of concern and frustration. You hesitated, torn between the urge to reassure him and the pressing need to just run for the hills before it was too late for you.
What you realized in the moment, listening to his muffled pleas, was that this might be the last time you'd see him. You couldn't come back to the Bronx ever again. Nor New York. You weren't sure exactly what the magnitude of Jung's power was that Namjoon shared, but you had the hunch that wherever you'd hide in this state, he would find you.
"Dad?" you said softly, your voice barely a whisper. You felt a lump in your throat, the weight of the impending goodbye pressing down on you. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.
"I'm here, Peaches," your father responded, his voice breaking slightly. "Please, come out. We'll figure this out." Tears welled up in your eyes as you clung to the closed door.
"It's no go, Dad."
"Please, just open the door." His voice was closer now, just outside the door.
You glanced around your room, grabbing your packed bag and slipping it over your shoulder.
"I love you, Dad. I'm sorry. Byeâ"
With a final, sorrowful glance toward the door, you slipped out of the window, your feet finding purchase on the metal grating of the fire escape. You descended quickly, not daring to look back. The metal stairs creaked under your weight, each step taking you further from the life you knew. You needed to disappear.
You had no shoes on, and the white tank top clung to your skin, outlining your curves and breasts. The night air was cool against your exposed skin, a harsh contrast to the warmth of your tears. The metal of the stairs felt rough under your bare feet, but you pushed forward until you were all the way down.
Catching your breath and glancing around the dimly lit alleyway, the city felt oppressively silent, the only sound your own ragged breathing. As you took a step forward, a soft scoff resonated in your ears, leaving you standing there frozen. The man was totally invisible in the dark shadows of the alley between the buildings until he pulled out his zippo lighter to light a cigarette, illuminating his face. He exhaled a cloud of smoke, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Where are you headed, Peaches?"
The man who was casually leaning against the cold bricks wasn't unfamiliar to you. You, as a barmaid at Anubis, had the extravagant privilege to meet four out of the big seven. Kim Taehyung being one of them, standing here in front of you.
"Mr. Kim," you breathed, dread pooling in your stomach. You were on a first-name basis only with Namjoon even though they all scolded you, especially your lady boss, for being way too formal and polite, making them feel older than they actually are. Truth be told, you were putting some distance between them, but you utterly failed to do so with Namjoon, and here you are, on the run.
"I'm your family now, Peaches," Taehyung said, his voice dripping with mockery. "You should start getting used to that, so drop the mister finally."
You gritted your teeth, trying to steady your nerves as you faced Taehyung. "Taehyung," you corrected yourself, though the informal address felt wrong on your tongue.
"That's better, what a good girl you can be," he said with a smirk, taking a step closer. His presence felt suffocating, a reminder of the dangerous world you had stumbled into.
"Why are you here, Taehyung?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.
"Why are you here, Peaches?" Taehyung countered, his tone filled with amusement. You bit the inside of your mouth, feeling the nerves tighten their grip on you.
"Getting some fresh air," you replied, trying to sound casual despite the knot of anxiety tightening in your chest.
Taehyung raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "Ah, yes, because nothing says 'fresh air' like sneaking out of your window in the dead of night," he quipped, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his scrutiny bearing down on you. "I just needed to clear my head," you said, hoping he would buy your flimsy excuse.
"You are not planning to do anything stupid now, Peaches, right?" You paused, considering your response carefully. Taehyung's tone, though casual, carried a hint of warning that sent a shiver down your spine. You slightly shook your head to show dismissal.
"Namjoon-hyung said you looked pretty shaken up that night." You couldn't help but tense at Taehyung's mention of Namjoon, a surge of apprehension coursing through you. You had tried to bury the memories of that night deep within you, but they continued to resurface, haunting your every thought.
"I'm fine," you replied, forcing a tight smile. "Just had a rough night, that's all."
"It looks like you're about to have another one to me." Your heart skipped a beat at Taehyung's ominous remark, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. Despite his casual demeanor, there was an underlying tension in the air that sent a shiver down your spine.
"I don't know what you're talking about," you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the rising sense of unease.
"Unzipped duffle bag, dollar bills fell from it while you were going down, that looks like you were very eager to get that fresh air."
"I... I was just going for a walk," you stammered, scrambling for an excuse. Taehyung raised an eyebrow, his gaze unwavering.
"Without putting your shoes on?"
You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of Taehyung's scrutiny bearing down on you. "I couldn't sleep," you admitted, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I needed some fresh air to clear my head.â You repeat yourself, but you know that you canât fool him no matter what.
Taehyung's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he shrugged, as if dismissing the matter altogether. "Well, you certainly know how to make an exit," he remarked, his smirk never faltering.
You forced a weak smile, trying to mask the unease bubbling inside you. "Guess I've always had a flair for the dramatic," you quipped, though the words rang hollow in your ears.
Taehyung chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "That you do, Peaches. That you do," he said cryptically, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and something else you couldn't quite decipher.
"You know, Namjoon doesn't like it when his... family goes missing," he said, the emphasis on 'family' making you flinch. He took a slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke in a lazy stream.
You clenched your fists, feeling trapped. "I'm not missing," you said, your voice firmer than before. "I'm right here."
"I'd probably get a head start if I were you." Taehyung nodded slowly, as if considering your words.
Your heart pounded in your chest. "A head start?"
He took another drag, the smirk never leaving his lips. "I'm not a monster, Peaches. I'll give you a five-minute head start before I come after you."
The realization hit you like a ton of bricks. He was actually giving you a chance to run, but this time you would know someone was after you. You glanced around, calculating your options. The streets were empty, but you knew they wouldn't stay that way for long.
"Five minutes, Peaches. Starting now."
You turned and ran, your bare feet slapping against the pavement. The adrenaline coursed through your veins as you sprinted down the alley, knowing that Taehyung's smirk was etched in your mind.
You didn't know where you were going, but you knew you had to get as far away as possible. Everything blurred as you pushed yourself to run faster, the sound of your heartbeat drowning out everything else.
If you hide well, he can't find you, can he? You just have to find yourself a place to hide until morning and then you can wait till sunrise, get to the airport and fly to the first destination that will pop up.
You could feel the cold concrete scraping your feet, but the pain was a distant echo compared to the urgency of escape. You glanced over your shoulder, half-expecting to see Taehyung's figure emerging from the shadows, but for now, you were alone.
You could feel the cold concrete scraping your feet, but the pain was a distant echo compared to the urgency of escape. You glanced over your shoulder, half-expecting to see Taehyung's figure emerging from the shadows, but for now, you were alone.
The five minutes neared their end, and you knew you couldn't stay hidden forever. You had to keep moving, keep putting distance between you and Taehyung. Peering through the leaves, you scanned the area, your mind racing through possible routes and hiding spots.
"If I donât bring you back, he'll come instead, Peaches!" Taehyung's voice echoed through, taunting you.
"You don't want to anger him, do you now?"
You needed a plan, and fast. Glancing around, you noticed a narrow passageway between two buildings, just wide enough for you to squeeze through. It might lead you to a different part of the neighborhood, giving you a chance to lose Taehyung in the labyrinth of backstreets.
You bolted towards the passageway, your bare feet slapping against the cold pavement. The alley was narrow and dark, but you pushed forward, heart pounding in your chest. Every shadow seemed to move, every sound amplified in the stillness of the night.
"They all run at first, Peachesâ" Taehyung's voice echoed, closer now. "You're cute thinking you have a chance to get away."
It was way too narrow even if you put your bag down from your shoulder and dragged it as you tried to squeeze through. Every shadow seemed to move, every sound amplified in the stillness of the night, and you were scared that he would get to you soon. You knew he was out there, somewhere, searching for you.
"Although, my mind is troubled. Why, out of all of them, do you run?" There was a pause, then a chuckle.
You pushed yourself harder, feeling the rough brick walls scrape against your skin. You needed to keep moving, but you also needed a moment to think. The airport was too far, especially when they were already looking for you. You thought you were clever to disappear through the window as if you were in some cheesy cliché movie.
"Namjoon-hyung was always good to you, wasn't he?" He was. Until the moment someone else's brain was blown up by him right in front of you, simply because of his possessiveness while he never made you two exclusive. Or at least you thought so, as it showedâyou were claimed by him sooner than you actually realized. You felt the panic rising in your chest, threatening to overwhelm you.
"You have no reason to run, Peaches," Taehyung's voice was taunting, echoing off the walls. "Namjoon-hyung will be so disappointed when he finds out how far you've gone." You ignored the majority of his words, focusing on finding a way out.
You closed your eyes and tried to think harder this time. The old train yardâbingoâit was on the outskirts of the city. It was abandoned, a place where few people ventured. If you could make it there, you might be able to find a boxcar to hide in until morning.
"Family doesn't abandon family, Peaches!" You heard his voice again, this time more distant.
Emerging from the passageway, you found yourself in a small courtyard. It was littered with old furniture and discarded trash; the smell was awful, but you didn't have time to dwell on that.
You listened intently, straining to hear any sign of Taehyung. The silence was deafening, broken only by the distant hum of traffic and the occasional bark of a dog.
You stuck to the shadows, moving as quietly as possible. The train yard was a long way off, but it was your best shot at staying out of immediate reach. Or so you thought.
You couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Every rustle of leaves, every distant footstep made you jump. You forced yourself to stay calm, to focus on the path ahead. Panicking would only slow you down.
The city's edge came into view, the silhouette of the train yard looming in the distance. You quickened your pace, the sight of your potential sanctuary giving you a burst of energy. You crossed the threshold into the yard, the rusted tracks and abandoned cars offering a twisted sense of comfort.
An old boxcar with the door slightly ajar beckoned to you. You slipped inside, the smell of rust and decay filling your nostrils. You closed the door behind you, plunging the space into darkness. It was cramped and musty, but it was hidden.
Sinking to the floor, you allowed yourself a moment to breathe. Your body ached, your feet throbbed, but you had made it. For now, you were safe. You could only hope that Taehyung would give up the chase, or at least lose your trail long enough for you to figure out your next move.
The sound of gravel crunching outside the boxcar woke you up and consequently made your heart jump into your throat. You held your breath, straining to listen. The footsteps were deliberate and slow, echoing through the stillness of the night.
You held your breath, trying to remain as quiet as possible. The footsteps drew closer, each crunch of gravel sending a shockwave through your body. Your mind raced with possibilities. Was it Taehyung? Or perhaps someone else stumbling upon your hiding spot?
"I seriously don't understand why you didn't throw her over your shoulder and take her back to her room." The older male shot him a glare.
"Oh come the fuck on, you're one to talk." It was Taehyung's voice, laced with frustration and annoyance.
âI did not lose her, I gave her choice and she chose wrong, sheâll be back though, in no time.â The younger one scoffed and Taehyung quirked his brows, evidently amused by his brother.Â
"Well, at least that was my woman I lost and not our Hyung's." The tattooed heartthrob spat his friend's way when he heard his scoff.
"This isn't really my job. I'm only doing this because Namjoon cares about her too much to leave someone incompetent to watch her until he'll come back."
âOr youâre the only one without a woman, Tae.â You heard a little thump as if he jokingly punched him and the other voice chuckled. But first and foremost â
Namjoon's away. He did not come for you as he's away, and if away means out of the state, you have a bigger chance to make an exit than you originally thought.
Seeing him would only make things worse. Listening to his sweet melodies of words would make you doubt what Taehyung initiatedâyou have no reason to run. Apart from that, you do. He was deeply entrenched in the world of organized crime, his life a constant dance between power and peril. While his charming demeanor and enigmatic presence had drawn you in, you knew that his lifestyle came with its own set of risks and consequences.
He operated in the shadows, his actions dictated by a code of loyalty to his comrades and ruthlessness towards his enemies. At least that's what you heard people talk about the Jungs and their family man.
You didn't think there was room for innocence. But were you innocent? You had blood on your hands. Jinyoung's. You had been complicit in his demise. While it wasn't you who pulled the trigger, you were the motive.
As the voices grew louder, you strained to make out what they were saying. The sound of footsteps approached the boxcar, each one sending a jolt of fear through you. Were they getting closer? Were they about to open the door and drag you out into the open?
"I did not expect her to play the game that well, I have to give her that," Taehyung remarked, his voice tinged with admiration. Your heart raced as you listened to their conversation.
"Smart, just like he is."
The footsteps came to a stop just outside the boxcar, and you braced yourself for the door to swing open at any moment. Every nerve in your body was on edge, ready to flee at the first sign of danger.
But instead of the door creaking open, the voices began to fade away, the gravel crunching underfoot growing softer as they moved further away. Relief washed over you in waves, but you remained cautious, waiting until the sound of their footsteps had disappeared entirely before allowing yourself to relax.
You stayed hidden in the darkness of the boxcar, unsure of how much time had passed. Eventually, the adrenaline began to ebb, leaving you exhausted and drained. You were scared that they were waiting outside and the moment you decided to move places would be fatal for you.
The growl in your stomach was loud, echoing in the empty boxcar. You hadn't eaten in what felt like an eternity, and the gnawing hunger was beginning to take its toll. Despite the fear that they might be lying in wait, you knew you couldn't stay here forever or you'd die of hunger very soon.
Despite the fear that they might be lying in wait, you knew you couldn't stay here forever. Peeking through the small gap, you scanned the area. The night was still, and there was no sign of Taehyung or anyone else.
Slipping out of the boxcar, you kept to the shadows, moving quietly and quickly. You needed to find food, but more importantly, you needed to find a safer place to hide. If you couldn't reach the airport, you'd have to wait somewhere until you were considered off the radar. Would Namjoon lose his interest if he knew you were gone for good? You hoped so, but you also strongly doubted that. The man had had his eyes set on you for three years or so, without ever losing interest in you.
The city was vast, with many nooks and crannies where you could potentially evade capture, but you moved in the dead of the night cautiously. Slowly closing the distance between the convenience store at least ten blocks from your home, its lights were still on and you thanked the almighty, or more so the 24 hour market in front of you.
The store seemed deserted, only a shabby-looking man in his mid-thirties sitting behind the counter, half asleep. You slipped inside, quickly grabbing some food and water before leaving to pay at the counter. When the doorbell rang indicating that a customer entered the small store, you froze in place.
You ducked behind a shelf, hoping the dim lighting and cluttered aisles would conceal you. Peering through a gap between products, you saw a figure enter. You may be paranoid but you wouldn't take the risk when you had managed to not be caught for what seemed like hours. You knew better.
Your heart pounded in your chest, the sound of your heartbeat almost louder than the growling stomach from earlier. You clutched the food tightly, muscles tense, waiting for the perfect moment to quickly throw the few bucks on the counter and make your leave. You straightened a little.
It wasn't him. It was just a person that resembled him. With a rush of relief, you moved to the counter. The shabby-looking clerk barely glanced up as you placed your items down and reached into your pocket for the money. Just as you were about to pay, a hand slammed the money down on the counter in front of you. Your heart skipped a beat and your eyes widened.
You looked up slowly, dread pooling in your stomach. Taehyung stood beside you, his eyes locking onto yours with a cold, triumphant smile.
"My treat," he said smoothly, his voice dripping with mock politeness. You froze, your breath catching in your throat. The clerk, oblivious to the tension, lazily rang up the items and handed the change to Taehyung. He pocketed it without breaking eye contact with you.
You acted rather quickly after you regained your senses, but the exit was blocked by the man you saw earlier. How could you not recognize the famous heartthrob of this decade, Jeon Jungkook? Only a few people knew of his connection to the Jungs, Kims, and Parks.
"Going somewhere?" Jungkook's voice was smooth and exactly identical to the one you heard outside of the boxcar, but there was an edge to it that sent chills down your spine. He leaned casually against the doorframe, his dark eyes fixed on you with a predatory gleam.
Panic surged through you as you realized your escape route was cut off. You glanced around the store, searching for another way out, but Taehyung's hand clamped down on your arm, his grip firm and unyielding.
The clerk did not care to intervene; he knew their faces and what they represented. One girl was not worth the trouble for him.
"Let's go," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. You had no choice but to follow, your mind racing with thoughts of escape. As you stepped out of the store, the chilly night air hit you, a stark contrast to the suffocating presence of Taehyung beside you. You scanned the street for any potential way out, but Taehyung's grip on your arm tightened, steering you toward a nearby alley.
You stumbled slightly, trying to keep pace with him. The alley was dark and narrow, the perfect place for someone to disappear. Desperation surged through you, fueling your determination. You had to find a way out of this.
"You lasted more than I expected, Peaches. I have to give you that." You fought to suppress the shiver that threatened to run down your spine. Taehyung's voice, usually smooth and melodic, now held an edge of something darker, something sinister.
"But it's time to go home."
The weight of his intentions pressed down on you like a heavy stone. You did not know what home he was speaking of. Your home? Namjoon's home? You'd never been there; you couldn't know what home he meant. But something told you that wherever he'd take you, "home" would be a gilded cage, a place of confinement disguised as comfort.
You remained silent, your jaw clenched in defiance as you continued to walk, your eyes darting around the alley for any sign of escape. But every corner seemed to lead to another dead end, and the walls closed in around you like a vice.
Tears welled up in your eyes as the desperation hit your nerves. Taehyung's grip tightened slightly, as if warning you against any further attempts at escape.
"There was no need to run, Peaches." Wasn't there? You stopped to think for a minute. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart.
With a sudden burst of strength, you twisted out of Taehyung's grip and bolted. The sound of his shout echoed behind you, but you didn't look back. You darted through the maze of backstreets, your only goal to put as much distance between you and Taehyung as possible.
Reaching a dead end, you spotted a fire escape ladder. Without a second thought, you began climbing, your fingers slipping on the cold metal. You reached the rooftop, not daring to look back as you sprinted across the gravel. The cityscape stretched before you, a chaotic playground of rooftops and danger.
You leaped from one building to the next, each landing jarring your bones, but you couldn't stop. You heard Taehyung's voice calling your name, a mix of frustration and anger, but you didn't dare slow down. You reached the edge of a particularly wide gap between buildings and hesitated, just a split second too long.
A strong arm wrapped around your waist, yanking you back. You thrashed, but the grip was unyielding. Jungkook's face came into view, his expression grim. He was faster than Taehyung, and you knew your chances to outrun him were slight, but you still hoped.
"You can't run forever, Peaches," he said quietly, almost regretfully. You could hear Taehyung's leather boots stomping against the roof's concrete and his ragged breath in unison.
You struggled, kicking and clawing, but he held firm. Your heart sank as the reality of the situation set in. Just then, you heard the uncomfortable digital sound of the Motorola flip phone that was in Taehyung's hand once he stopped in front of you.
"Hmm?" Taehyung answered the phone and ended the gut-wrenching sound. You knew who was on the other side of the line. Jungkook still held you securely, his eyes never leaving yours.
There was a pause, and then he handed you the phone.
"Your Mr. Man wants to speak to you."
You hesitated for a moment, the weight of the phone heavy in your hand. With a deep breath, you brought it to your ear, steeling yourself for the inevitable confrontation with Namjoon.
"Hello?" Your voice trembled slightly, betraying the fear and uncertainty swirling within you.
"You're losing sleep, love," he said, his tone smooth but laced with a menacing undertone. You took a shaky breath.
"S-so are you." He chuckled. You bit the inside of your lip out of nerves.
"I'd sleep better if you came back to me like the good girl I know you are."
The mixture of his charm and underlying threat was intoxicating and terrifying.
"I can't, Namjoon," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I can't live like this anymore. I never wanted to live like this, and you knew that."
"Life is just about to begin for you, loveâ" he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice.
"Our life," he added, and your grip tightened around the phone.
"What does that even mean?" you demanded, a mix of anger and desperation coloring your words.
"It means," he began, his voice smooth yet chilling, "that whatever you fear, we'll figure this out together."
"Please, Namjoon," you begged, your voice barely a whisper. "Let me go. I can't. I just can't," you cried out.
There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and you held your breath, hoping against hope that he might relent. Your heart pounded with a mix of fear and helplessness.
"Freedom is an illusion, love," he said, almost gently. "The only freedom you'll ever have is with me. Now, come back. We'll talk this through, and I promise you, everything will be fine. Just trust me."
"Namjoonâ"
"Peachesâ" he quickly interrupted your attempt to plead again.
"Don't make me take harsher measures to ensure you'll come back to me." His tone grew colder, the underlying threat unmistakable.
"Wh-what are you talking about?" you asked, a tremor in your voice.
"You know what I can do. It would be a shame if the same thing happened to someone else you care about." His words hung in the air, heavy with menace.
You looked at Jungkook and Taehyung, their faces impassive yet resolute. They were ready to enforce Namjoon's will, no matter the cost.
"Why are you doing this to me?" you asked, voice quivering.
"We can talk about that once you come home," Namjoon replied, his voice smooth but unyielding.
"Namjoon, please..." you started, desperation lacing your words.
"Enough, Peaches," he cut you off sharply. "You know what's at stake. I expect you back within an hour. Hand the phone to Taehyung."
With a heavy heart, you handed the phone back to Taehyung. He took it, his eyes filled with a mix of pity, but you didn't think it was genuine. You felt Jungkook's grip loosen slightly, but not enough to let you go.
Taehyung listened to Namjoon for a moment, then nodded. "Understood," he said before hanging up. He looked at you, his expression resigned.
"Let's go," he said softly.
You don't even know how you managed to fall asleep in the car. They took your bag, draped a warm blanket over you, and sat you down on the back seat. You did not protest anymore, even though the thought of jumping out of the car went through your head briefly.
You thought of your father, your friends, and everyone you ever met and cared for when he took the ultimate move that would make you leave everything in a heartbeat. You don't want more blood on your hands.
At the same time, you could not understand why Namjoon would take such harsh measures. This wasn't the Namjoon you knewâheck, you don't even know if you ever knew that man.
The lavish room surrounding you was magnificent and screaming one name: Namjoon. Even his scent was clinging to every single piece of the room. The silk sheets clung to your skin, and you couldn't help but close your eyes again. The morning light filtered through the heavy curtains, casting a golden hue across the room.
You could hear the audible difference in your surroundings. The Bronx had a distinctive hum, a chaotic symphony of life and struggle. But thisâthis was different. The sounds outside the open window were unmistakably Manhattan. The distant buzz of traffic, the occasional honk of a horn, and the muffled chatter of people far below created a stark contrast to the quiet tension inside.
You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. Every moment spent here felt like a betrayal to the life you once knew, the people you once loved. But escape wasn't just about physical freedomâit was about breaking free from the psychological chains Namjoon had wrapped around you.
You did not know whether you weren't running for the hills now because this oddly feels like you are meant to be here or because you don't know if you should. You spent a lot of time rolling around and thinking about this. You had not come to a conclusion yet. You'd only decided that you would give him the courtesy to talk after all the years that he and his family supported you by giving you a job.
With that resolve, you climbed out of bed, feeling the weight of silk sheets slipping away. The cold floor sent a shiver up your spine, bringing you fully awake. You made your way to the bathroom, the reflection in the mirror staring back at you. You need a haircut, maybe even a new hair color.
The shower's hot water provided a temporary refuge, washing away the grime and tension of the past few days. After drying off, you dressed in clothes Namjoon had probably laid out for youâan unspoken reminder of his control.
You entered the kitchen, where the aroma of breakfast hung in the air. The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the rich aroma of bacon and eggs, momentarily distracting you. You were starving.
As you moved further into the room, a sudden noise made you jump. Startled, you turned to see a figure in a white chef's uniform bustling about the kitchen. He looked up, his eyes widening in surprise as he saw you.
"Good morning, Misses Kim," he said with a polite nod. "I didn't expect you to be up so early.â The title he used sent a shiver down your spine. Misses Kim. It was as if the walls were closing in, suffocating you with the weight of an identity that wasnât yours to claim. You overlooked yourself and your attire.
You could see your bra-less breasts and perky nipples through that white tanktop, but the chef was trained well enough to not look that way. He would most likely be beheaded by Namjoon if he would dare to look that way.
"Good morning," you replied, your voice tinged with a mix of nerves and hunger. You forced a small smile.
The chef, a middle-aged man with kind eyes, set down the spatula he was holding and wiped his hands on a towel. "My name is Seo Kang-joon, Misses Kim. I'm Sajangnim's private chefâ" you figured that much. Of course that man has a private chef when he cannot boil a potato for the love of God.
"He tasked me to make you some breakfast and tell you he'll be with you shortly," he explained, gesturing to the array of food laid out on the counter.
You nodded, taking a seat at the kitchen island. Your stomach growled audibly, and despite the chaos in your mind, the food before you was an undeniable lure. You picked up a piece of toast, buttering it slowly as Kang-joon resumed his work.
"How long have you been working for Namjoon?" you asked, trying to fill the silence with something other than your own anxious thoughts.
Kang-joon glanced up from the stove, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "About three years now," he replied. "I've switched with my Appa; he was working for the Kims for two generations and now it's my turnâ"
"That's a long time," you said, taking a bite of the toast, the warmth of the food providing a small comfort.
"Yes, it is," he agreed, his voice gentle. "Namjoon is a good employer, he's always treated us fairly. And he cares about you a great dealâ"
"I've seen you before, didn't I?" you interrupted, suddenly recalling a moment that had slipped through your mind like sand.
"At the private party last month. You were serving food, right?"
Kang-joon nodded, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yes, that was me. I remember seeing you there, although you were quite busy tooâ"
You were supposed to be waitressing the tables, plural, yet you only waitressed one table that night. As per usual.
"Yep, that was my reality, I guess," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Before all of this."
Kang-joon's expression turned somber, and he stopped cooking momentarily.
"Namjoon doesn't let anyone near you, but I've seen how happy you make him. He's different around you." Of course he thinks so. You don't blame him for his inability to see through this. It's not his place.
You fell silent, pondering his words. The chaos of Namjoon's life and the dark undercurrents that surrounded him felt suffocating. "But at what cost?" you whispered, more to yourself than to him.
"He means wellâ" he paused his thought and got silent, and you knew that means only one thing.
"I appreciate your loyalty to him," you said, forcing a smile that felt brittle on your lips.
"Good morning, love," he said, his voice deep and commanding. His eyes darted between you and Kang-joon, who stood with a spatula in hand, caught in the moment. "I hope you're both having a pleasant chat."
Kang-joon bowed slightly, and you could see the way he was careful to keep his composure, even as the atmosphere shifted with Namjoon's presence. "I was just finishing up breakfast, Sajangnim," he said politely. "Miss Kim and I were discussing yourâ"
"Thank you, Kang-joon," Namjoon interrupted, his tone suggesting a mixture of gratitude and an underlying tension. "I can take it from here."
The air felt thick, heavy with unspoken words. You looked at him, wanting to scream, wanting to run, wanting to demand answers.
"Did you sleep well?" Namjoon asked, his voice softer now, as if he was trying to breach the walls that had begun to rise between you.
You nursed your coffee in the black ceramic mug while you shrugged, keeping the answer with spice in it for yourself just yet. His brow furrowed, and for a moment, you could see the cracks in his façade when you didn't answer.
"I see... silent treatment," he gulped down, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. Pouring himself a cup of coffee too, he leaned on the counter right in front of you. You took his appearance in. He got a buzz cut, creamy satin shirt tucked in leather pants. A few of the buttons were undone, giving you a perfect view of his toned chest.
"Is that really how you want to start the day?" he provoked. You set the mug down, the clink of ceramic against marble echoing in the tension-filled kitchen.
"Did you ask yourself the same question when you threatened me?" you shot back, your voice rising slightly as the memories flooded back. The anger surged within you, igniting a fire that had been smoldering since the moment you woke up in his penthouse.
Namjoon's expression shifted, the warmth in his eyes replaced by a flicker of defensiveness.
"Well, you for some reason seemed too adamant that you needed to patrol the streets of Bronx by running away from me. I know you too damn well, Peaches; I know where you were headed."
The words stung, each syllable laced with accusation and an unsettling truth. Your heart raced, the anger bubbling just below the surface.
"You know fucking shit, Namjoonâ"
"Oppa," he jumped in, his voice firm, yet tinged with a note of caution.
You inhaled sharply, the familiar term slicing through the tension like a knife. It reminded you of the intimate moments you once shared. "You've lost that honorific the moment you decided to threaten me and kill that man right in front of my eyes!"
Namjoon's jaw clenched, and you could see the conflict brewing beneath his composed exterior.
"You don't understand the kind of world I'm in. We protect ours."
"Protect?" you spat, feeling the heat of betrayal wash over you.
"I'm a person who deserves to make her own choicesâ" He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing.
"What choices are you making? Running off into the night like it's some kind of adventure? You think that's brave? I refuse to let you get hurt because you're unhappy with my decisions."
"Oh yeah, like something would happen to meâ"
"You are my woman, and people know that you are, Peaches!" he declared, his voice rising with intensity, as if the weight of his words was meant to command respect from the universe itself.
Your heart raced at his proclamation, a mix of anger and something softer twisting in your gut.
"The fuck you're talking about, Namjoon?" You snapped, your voice echoing off the sleek kitchen walls. Anger surged within you, fueled by the sheer audacity of his claim.
"Not fucking once did you say that we ought to be official one dayâ" you shot back, your voice dripping with disbelief.
"You act like I'm some sort of possession, something you can just claim without any conversation or commitment!" Namjoon's expression hardened, a flicker of frustration flashing in his eyes.
"You need to stop pretending like we don't have a future because you're scared of the past," he said, smashing the mug down on the counter. Namjoon's jaw tightened, and the conflict in his eyes was palpable.
"Since we met, not fucking once have you made your intentions strictly clear, Namjoon! The fuck am I doing here then?!" The words burst from your lips, raw and unfiltered, echoing in the tense space between you.
He ran a hand over his face, visibly struggling to keep his composure.
"I thought you knew. I thought you felt it too," he replied, his voice softer now, almost pleading. "I thought it was understood that it was a matter of time."
"Understood?" you scoffed, incredulity seeping into your tone. "You think that just because you've made me a part of your life, I should automatically know my place? That's not how it works!"
"I was waiting till you'llâ"
"Age of consent is eighteen in this state, Namjoon, keep that bullshit to yourself." Namjoon's expression darkened at your words, and you could see the frustration simmering beneath the surface.
"So you would rather be wifed and knocked up as soon as we met, am I right?"
The air crackled with tension as Namjoon's words hung in the space between you, a provocation that sent shockwaves through your body. You felt your breath hitch, a mixture of shock and anger coursing through you.
"So that's the plan now?" you lowered your voice.
His expression softened for a moment, and you could see the conflict etched across his features. "I thought you'd want that kind of future with me, Peaches. I thought we were on the same page from day one."
Despite Namjoon's willingness to talk, the remnants of fear and frustration churned within you, threatening to spill over. You took a deep breath, trying to ground yourself. Your heart raced, the urge to flee growing stronger. He reached out, grabbing your wrist gently but firmly.
"I love you, baby."
Your heart pounded in your chest at his words, a tumultuous blend of emotions crashing over you. You stood up from the stool you were sitting at, calmly aiming for the door. You didn't know what you were doing with this lame attempt to flee.
"Heyâ" he shouted, but you did not stop. You could feel Namjoon's gaze burning into your back as you moved toward the door, his loud steps right behind you making you speed up the process.
You couldn't stop. The need to escape overwhelmed you, propelling you forward. You flung the door open, the sharp sound echoing in the silence that followed.
"Peaches!" he shouted again, his voice rising with urgency and desperation. The door rattled on its hinges as he leaned against it, trying to process what had just happened.
"Damn it!" he cursed under his breath, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him. He knew he had pushed too hard, but he couldn't help it.
You trembled under him, still facing the door while his arm was outstretched, palms on the door, blocking you from opening it again. Your breath quickened as you stood there, the cool metal of the doorknob biting into your palm. You could feel Namjoon's presence behind you.
"Let me go, Namjoon," you demanded, your voice steady but wavering just slightly. The pounding of your heart felt like a war drum, urging you to flee, to escape this suffocating moment.
"You would come back to me nonetheless." You turned around to face him, your expression a blend of defiance and vulnerability.
"What makes you think I would?" you shot back, turning slightly to glance over your shoulder at him. The intensity in his eyes made your pulse quicken, a mixture of anger and confusion swirling within you.
"Because you love me backâ" He leaned down, not giving you time to argue, and seized the chance to crash his lips down on yours for the first time.
His hands grabbed onto your hips, pulling you closer, the heat from his body seeping into yours. Your heart raced, the adrenaline coursing through your veins as his tongue danced with yours in a heated embrace.
Namjoon's fingers dug into your skin, his grip firm yet tender, as if he was trying to brand you as his own. The kiss was raw, primal, and all-consuming, leaving you both breathless and wanting more.
Namjoon's eyes locked onto yours, the fire within them burning brighter than ever before. With a low growl, he pulled you close again, his lips crashing down on yours once more as the world around you continued to spin.
As the kiss broke, Namjoon pulled away, his eyes burning with intensity.
"I'm not done being angry," you said, your voice low but unwavering. You could feel the heat radiating off him, and it both thrilled and terrified you.
Namjoon's brow furrowed slightly, surprise mingling with the intensity in his gaze. "I know that," he replied, his tone shifting, becoming more serious.
"Good," you spoke right to his lips, your heart still racing from the kiss. The mix of confusion and desire swirled within you, and you struggled to keep your composure.
The cognac brown couch was very comfortable, its soft cushions inviting you to sink in and relax. A glass coffee table with sleek chrome legs stood in front of it, its surface adorned with a stack of art books, a few scattered magazines, and a vintage crystal ashtray. So Namjoon.
A large, floor-to-ceiling window occupied one side of the room, offering a breathtaking view of the city skyline. A Persian rug, with intricate patterns in deep reds and blues, covered the polished hardwood floor, adding a touch of warmth and history to the contemporary space. Again, so Namjoon.
He was crouched down by the fireplace that dominated the place, his back to you. The fire cast a warm, flickering glow across the room, its light dancing over Namjoon's broad shoulders. He started the fire because he saw you shivering. But that had nothing to do with you being cold, and deep down he knew that too. He seemed lost in thought, his fingers idly tracing patterns on the floor as he stared into the flames.
You walked over to him, your footsteps silent on the plush rug. As you approached, Namjoon turned slightly, his eyes meeting yours. You sat down next to him.
"So, how do you imagine all this working?" you asked, your voice gentle yet tinged with the underlying frustration you felt.
Namjoon sighed, rubbing his temples with his fingers. "Just like it did till now."
You frowned slightly, shaking your head.
"So I'm gonna go back to working in Anubis and you are going to keep shooting everyone who gets closer to me?!" you said, a bit harsher than you intended. Namjoon's eyes flashed with a mix of frustration.
"You are not coming back to work in Anubis, let's start with that," he said firmly, his tone brooking no argument.
"My oh my, now you want to take the source of my income too." Namjoon shifted slightly, his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. There was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes.
"You're my woman, Peaches. You don't need to work for money anymore," he started, his voice steady and filled with conviction.
You raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "You can't be serious."
"Women in our clan don't work for decades, my woman is not gonna work either. At least not like thatâ" You narrowed your eyes, feeling a mixture of disbelief and intrigue at his declaration.
"That's not who I am, Namjoon." He leaned in closer, the firelight casting a warm glow over his chiseled features.
"Baby, I'm not asking you. I'm offering you the life you always deserved." He sighed, running a hand through his hair, frustration evident on his face.
"I've always been able to take care of myself."
âSo now let me take care of you, sweetling.â
Your mind raced as you considered his words. The allure of a life without the constant threat of violence, without the stress of making ends meet, was tempting. But was it worth giving up your autonomy?
âYou can still pursue your passions. Iâm not taking that away from you,ââ Namjoon paused, his expression softening.
âBut no Anubis,â he took your hands into his.
âWhat do you want?â You asked quietly. He held your gaze, the firelight flickering across his face, illuminating the resolve etched in his features.
âI think I made my intentions strictly clear today.â He chuckled and exhaled slowly, his breath warm against your skin.
âIâm not just talking about safety and comfort, Peaches. Iâm talking about us. About building a life together.â
You searched his eyes for any sign of insincerity, but all you found was determination.
âYou want me to be your⊠what, exactly?â You knew, you just still didnât want to believe it.
Namjoon leaned back slightly, still holding your hands, his thumb brushing against your skin in a soothing rhythm. âI want you to be mineââ
âMind and body, heart and soul.â Namjoon's voice was low and earnest, each word weighted with sincerity.
You swallowed hard, trying to process the depth of what he was asking. âYou mean⊠you want me to commit completely? To be yours in every sense?â
âAnd Iâll be yours.â He nodded, his eyes unwavering, filled with a mixture of affection and intensity. You felt a rush of emotionsâa blend of excitement and fear.
âI can give you a life where you donât have to look over your shoulder, where you can focus on what truly matters to youâyour dreams, your passions, us.â
The promise of safety and love hung heavy in the air between you, and while the thought was tempting, a part of you still clung to your independence. It would be nice not to work long night hours in a bar full of drunk people to make ends meet. Not walking home with keys in your hand in case someone would jump you over or worse. Not living in a small old rusty apartment with your father who barely brought any income home.
The fire crackled softly, and you could feel the warmth radiating from it, mirroring the warmth blooming in your chest.
âI need time.â Namjoonâs expression shifted, his jaw tightening slightly as he processed your words. But he didnât let go of your hands. Instead, he brought them to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, his gaze unwavering.
âTime,â he echoed, the word almost foreign as it left his mouth. âYou already had plenty of time.â The firelight cast shadows across his face, emphasizing the intensity etched into every line.
âYou think time will change how you feel? Or how much I want you?â You felt a tremor run through you at the weight of his words. It was suffocating and yet strangely comforting, like a trap laced with silk, binding you softly but securely.
âNo, Namjoon, Iâm justââ Namjoonâs fingers brushed along your jawline, tipping your face up so that you met his gaze directly.
âI get that this must be overwhelming for you, but the time you are asking for is already up and doneââ
âI didnât know it was ticking,â you began, voice barely more than a whisper. Namjoon tilted his head, studying you, his lips quirking into a small, almost understanding smile.
âNo more hidden exits, no more plans to escape. I want you here, with me, committed⊠without looking for a way out. And in return, Iâll take care of you and your father. Thatâs my promise to you.â
The warmth in his eyes almost made you believe that he meant well, that beneath the possessive intensity was a genuine desire to protect and love. Yet a lingering voice inside you warned that this love would be an all-consuming fireâone that would consume every part of you until there was nothing left to call your own.
Your mind was racing for the answer. If you say yes, you may as well forget who you were, but perhaps you will find yourself where you always wanted to be. Someone. But what if you say no?
âWhat if I wonât agree, Namjoon?â You asked, scared for the answer. Namjoonâs gaze darkened, the softness slipping away as his grip tightened just enough for you to feel the control he had over the situation. He leaned in, his lips grazing your ear, his voice a low murmur that sent a shiver down your spine.
"Peaches, let's not pretend that you really have a choice here." His tone was calm, as if explaining something simple, obvious, like the inevitability of night following day.
"Your father," he began slowly, each word dripping with calculated weight, "he's in no position to take care of himself, is he? Without you, what would he do? You've been carrying his burden for years, haven't you? Always working to support him, protecting him, making sure he's safeâŠ"
His voice lowered, softening almost to a whisper, but it was filled with a quiet menace. "But if you refuse me⊠well, who do you think is going to keep him safe then?"
You felt your heart hammer in your chest, dread creeping into every corner of your mind as you took in his words. This was the second time he was threatening your father.
"What is wrong with you?" You said coldly, staring daggers at his pretty face.
"What's wrong with me?" he echoed, voice laced with a faint, mocking laugh. "I'm doing what needs to be done, Peaches. I'm making sure you understand the lengths I'm willing to go to keep you by my side. You think I'd just stand by and watch you slip away? Again?"
He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch featherlight but loaded with a silent threat. "I know you love your father," he murmured, voice a dangerous purr. "And that's why I'm reminding you of what's at stake."
You felt anger and fear twist inside you. He let his hand fall, watching your reaction with unsettling calmness, as if daring you to resist. Namjoon had you cornered, and he knew it. Every ounce of control you'd thought you held slipped further from your grasp, his quiet threats carving invisible chains around you.
"Why would you put me in this position?" He sighed, his lips curving into a faint, almost pitying smile as he tilted his head, studying you.
"Because I've been loving you for years, and when I can finally have you, you are trying toplay feminist."
The words hit you like a slap, raw and stinging. You swallowed, unable to look away from the intensity in his eyes. That faint smile on his lips held no warmth; it was twisted with something darker, something possessive.
"Play feminist?" you echoed, your voice wavering with anger and disbelief. "Namjoon, wanting to make my own choices doesn't mean I'm defying you or 'playing' anything. It means I'm a person, with my own willâ"
He cut you off, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he shook his head slowly, almost as if you'd amused him.
âPeaches, you still donât understand, do you? Iâm offering you a world where youâre safe, where you donât have to fight every day to survive. Youâd rather keep struggling, keep pretending youâre content living in that cramped one bedroom apartment while your father brings home beer money when you are fighting off every hardship, and here I am, ready to give you the life you deserve.â
His fingers gripped your chin firmly, forcing you to meet his gaze as he leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper but laced with conviction.
âYou think you want freedom, independence. But freedom isnât safe, Peaches. Freedom wonât love you like I do. It wonât sacrifice or protect. It wonât give you everything at the cost of its own soul.â
He released you, letting his hand fall away, his gaze darkening. âThis isnât some game, and it isnât about principles. Itâs about us. And if that means you have to surrender some of that so-called independence, then so be it. I know whatâs best for you, Peaches. You just need to stop fighting and see that.â
Namjoonâs gaze shifted to something darker, more resolute, as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box. The firelight glinted off the soft pink morganite stone, antique piece that must have been in his kin for decades, its delicate beauty a stark contrast to the intensity in his eyes. He held it up, his jaw set, the unspoken command clear in the way he presented it to you.
âPeaches,â he murmured, his voice dangerously calm, âwill you marry me?â
Before you could even think to pull away, he took your hand firmly, holding it in place as he slid the ring onto your finger. It was cold against your skin, the weight of it foreign and heavy.
âSay yes.â His voice was low, steady, a dangerous edge lurking beneath the calm exterior. His eyes bore into yours, unwavering, challenging you to defy him. âSay it, Peaches. Agree to be mine, completely, or Iâll make sure you lose everything youâve been holding onto.â
You felt trapped, his hand tightening around yours as if to remind you of his control over the situation. Your heart raced, your throat dry, as the words hovered on the edge of your lips, unable to escape. But he didnât let go, his fingers pressing into your skin with an unyielding determination.
âSay it,â he repeated, his voice firmer this time, the softness slipping into something harder, more commanding.
Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, a feeling of resignation sinking deep into your chest as you stared at the ring, its delicate beauty now a symbol of your surrender.
âYes,â you whispered, the word barely escaping your lips.
A smile spread across Namjoonâs face, slow and triumphant, as he released your hand, the weight of the ring now settling fully onto your finger. He cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tear that had slipped free, his touch gentle yet possessive.
âThere,â he murmured, his voice soft but laced with satisfaction.
âThatâs my good girl.â
"Where's my bag?" you start sharply the moment Namjoon walks in, shrugging off the coat from his so-called 'business meeting.' You were obviously not allowed to sit in because women here do not work once they have a ring on their finger. Not like you are dying to be a part of a criminal syndicate that has its roots deeply set in this society. The air between you two is thick, a palpable tension that crackles like static before a storm.
"I looked everywhere, but I cannot seem to find itâ"
Successful distilleries may be carrying the Jung name, yet other family members have their own shares of the money capital of the clan, Namjoon not being an exception. His name is presented on each brandy bottle you have had the chance to pour from. But what actually lies under the façade of crystal-clear bottles of whiskey and brandy remains unknown to the upper world.
When you met Namjoon, you didn't see a crime lord. You saw a man with ambition, with a drive that matched yours. But somewhere along the line, his ambition became chains around your wrists, tying you to a life you never chose. That's when you decided that working in Anubis would be only a "college" solution before you would leave the city.
He raises an eyebrow, his expression a mix of surprise and annoyance. "What bag?"
"You know exactly which bag," you snap, stepping closer. Namjoon's eyes darken, his jaw tightening.
"How about we start on lunch?" he suggests, trying to ignore your pleas.
"No," you insist, voice trembling with anger. "I want my bag. I want my money."
"I thought we had settled this last night, didn't we?" he says, his voice low and dangerous.
Your blood boils at his dismissive tone. "Settled? You think you can just placate me and everything will be fine? That money is mine, Namjoon. I earned it."
He steps closer, his presence intimidating but you hold your ground. "Peaches, you ought to be my wife, what's mine is yours. You don't need that money."
You stand firm, not backing down. "Need it or not, it's mine. I worked for it, Namjoon."
Namjoon's eyes narrow, a dangerous glint in them. "You think you can just walk out with that money? You think you can use it to just leave?"
"No, Iâ" Namjoon steps forward, his eyes cold and calculating. You feel a surge of anger, your hands clenching into fists. "I earned that money, and I deserve to use it as I see fit."
"If you want to spend money, we can go shoppingâ" His presence overwhelming and oppressive. His words angering you even more.
"SHOPPING?! Are you fucking serious? This isn't about buying things, Namjoon. This is about my life, my choices."
Before you can continue your rambling, he grabs your wrist and pulls you close, his grip like iron. His lips crash onto yours in a bruising, dominating kiss, meant to remind you of his power over you. You struggle, but his hold is unyielding, leaving you breathless and dizzy.
"If you're gonna drop that honorific one more timeâ" Namjoon's eyes blaze with fury as he keeps you close, his grip almost painful.
"I won'tâ" you spit out, defiance still burning in your eyes despite the fear gnawing at your insides. "If you give me my money back. I have a right to it." Namjoon laughs coldly, shaking his head.
"Let's just have lunch, Peaches, before I lose my patience completelyâ" he says, his voice dripping with condescension. You glare at him, refusing to back down.
"Not until you give me my money back." His expression hardens, the cold amusement vanishing.
"You really want to push this, don't you?"
"Yes," you say, your voice unwavering. "Favor for favor, isn't it the mantra y'all go by?" A smirk playing on his lips when you finish the sentence.
"Everything you need, I provide." You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart.
"I worked for that money, Namjoon. I deserve to have control over it."
He steps closer again, his eyes dancing with amusement as he looks down at you. "Control? You want control? Fine," he says, his voice dripping with condescension.
"I've deposited them into an account I opened in your name, joint with mine, naturally," he says, his words carrying that same cool, possessive edge.
"What?" you gasp, your disbelief palpable. "You what?"
"I will give you your black card," he repeats, his lips curling into a taunting smile "âonce you prove not to be a flight risk, baby." Namjoon tilts his head, the smirk never fading. This, in essence, means that every single transaction will be noticed. You will withdraw the money from the cardâhe will know. You will attempt to transfer them to a different account? He will fucking know. The implications hitting you like a gut punch. Your blood runs cold as his words sink in.
"I'm not stupid, Peaches. I know that we gotta work on our relationship." He steps even closer, his gaze intense, pinning you in place. "Let's work on that trust first, and then you can have money at your disposal."
Your heart beats in your throat, the frustration boiling beneath the surface. Trust? The word feels like a cruel joke coming from him.Trust?
"I'm not one of your assets, Namjoon," you spit out, your voice thick with defiance. "And I won't be treated like one." His towering form casting a shadow over you, and for a moment, his eyes soften, as if he's pitying you.
"You don't have a choice, baby." His tone shifts again, dripping with that same chilling calm.
"When you prove you can stay and play nice, then maybe, just maybe, I'll let you have some freedom with your own damn money." And just like that, he's already begun dictating the terms of your life again, his grip on you tighter than ever before.
The missing duffle bag with your money was among the least of your worries when you realized what else the duffle bag possessed.
"You have my passport, Namjoon, how can I run away?" Namjoon's eyes flicker, the amusement fading slightly, but his smirk doesn't falter. He's been expecting thisâhe always expects everything.
Namjoon's smile is slow, deliberate, almost cruel. "I've taken what I need to keep you close." Namjoon leans in, his breath warm against your ear, his voice low and dangerous.
"But I am not underestimating your spirit."
You're nauseous, the implication of his words settling over you like a weight you can't shake off. He is holding the strings to everything, but that only made you realize that you had a hell of a lot of thinking and plotting to do to get out of here. And the most intrusive thought back in your head, where you consider staying here and embracing this finally official relationship, has to goâquickly.
"So, what now?" you ask, voice trembling despite your best effort to keep it steady. "You plan on keeping me locked up forever, Namjoon-oppa?" Namjoon only smiles, cold and confident.
"No baby. But I will keep you very close, until I can trust you." Your skin prickles where his fingers brush, but you don't pull away. You can't. The need to stay composed, to not give him the satisfaction of seeing you break, fights against the rising tide of rage and fear in your chest.
"And what do you want me to do to earn it, Namjoon?" you ask, your voice steady despite the turmoil roiling inside you. "Beg? Crawl? Pretend everything is fine when it's not?" He tilts his head, studying you like a puzzle he's piecing together in real time. The silence that follows is thick with tension. He stands so close now that you can feel the heat of his body against yours.
"So, lunch it is then?"
His tone is mockingly light, but there's a sharp edge beneath it when he tries to abandon the conversation, the kind that makes you feel trapped.
The black Mercedes hums smoothly along the Bronx streets, its sleek exterior reflecting the gray clouds above. It's going to snow any day now. Inside, the air is thick with tension, an unspoken understanding between the two passengers.
You sit in the backseat, your fingers nervously gripping the edge of your dress, the smooth fabric barely registering under your touch. Your sunglasses hide the unease in your eyes, but the tightness in your chest is something you can't disguise.
Today feels different.
Namjoon sits beside you in the backseat, his gaze fixed ahead, while his hand is warm on your thigh. You are staring at your shoes. Isn't this what you wanted? To ride in an expensive car, wearing Saint Laurent pointy-toed heels? A form-fitting dress with a high neck reveals your figure subtly, and the hungry look Namjoon gave you when you stepped out of the wardrobe did not go unnoticed. Something feels different, as if you're playing dress-up. The allure of the life Namjoon offers, it all feels strangely distant.
You eye him carefullyâhis black turtleneck is tailored to fit perfectly, sleek and minimalistic. Over it, a black suit jacket, structured but not overly stiff, gives him a commanding presence. His black slacks match the simplicity and power of his look, polished and clean.
The cold air bites against your skin, and you instinctively pull your coat tighter around your shoulders, trying to shield yourself from the chill that seems to creep through the thin fabric of your dress.
"Thank you for letting me see my father," you whisper, your voice barely audible, yet heavy with meaning.
"You don't have to thank meâ" he says quietly, his voice low, almost intimate. His gaze doesn't soften, but there's something in the way he stands, commanding yet calm, that makes your heart race. The chill of the early morning seems to deepen, pressing in on you, yet you're acutely aware of the warmth of his presence, the heat of his body just a little too close.
"I couldn't have kept you from seeing him," Namjoon continues, his tone flat, as if he's simply stating a fact.
"But keep in mind that this is a privilegeâyou misbehave, you won't see him." His eyes lock with yours, not with malice, but with a cold certainty that makes your heart flutter uncomfortably in your chest. The last thing you want now is to provoke him further, to find out just how far his power reaches.
"Engaged?!" disbelief and shock etched into the features of your father when you sat down at the kitchen table after you collected some of the things you wished to take with you. You nod, your heart racing.
"Yes, Dad. It just happened. I wanted you to know first." Your father's gaze shifts to Namjoon, his face a storm of emotionsâanger, disbelief, worry.
"Peaches, do you know what you're doing? This man is nearly a decade older than you," he whispers your way, his voice trembling with concern.
You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "It's not that big, Dad. I know it's a lot to take in, but Namjoon and Iâwe're serious about this." You never knew how good you were at lying until today. Your father's eyes narrow, his gaze flicking between you and Namjoon.
"When did this relationship even happen? Is he holding you against your will?!" he demands, his tone a mix of frustration and disbelief. Your smile freezes for a moment, and you try your best not to give yourself away.
"No, Dad, that happens only in movies," you reply, attempting a light-hearted tone to deflect his suspicion. Maybe this is what Namjoon meant by earning trust.
Your father's gaze remains hard, but he doesn't push further. Instead, he turns to Namjoon, his voice cold and edged with protectiveness. "You better take care of her, Namjoon. If anything happens to her, I won't forgive you."
Namjoon smiles proudly at you, almost missing your father's harsh words. His confidence in you seems unshaken.
"You have my word," he replies simply, and you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, staring at the shiny peachy morganite.
You were never religious enough to step foot in a church after you were christened as a baby. Your parents were indifferent to faith, more focused on the struggles of daily life than spiritual obligations. But your now husband-to-be came from very religious kin, and he himself was a God's worshipper. Ironic enough when he managed to break the Ten Commandments before sipping his morning coffee.
His family, deeply rooted in tradition and devout faith, expected nothing less than a grand celebration steeped in religious customs. The thought of walking down an aisle, flanked by stained glass and the scent of incense, felt foreign and overwhelming.
The morning sun poured into the grand church, illuminating the ornate stained glass that depicted scenes of devotion and reverence. As you and Namjoon stepped through the heavy wooden doors, a wave of warmth enveloped you, mingling with the scent of polished wood and candle wax. It felt like stepping into another world, one where faith and family intertwined seamlessly.
You could see familiar faces sitting on the wooden benches. Kim Taehyung smirking your way when he glanced at your hand interlocked with Namjoon's. He was sitting next to Mr. Jung, whom you recognized by his mullet, and the next seat was occupied by the one and only Mrs. Jung, whom you hadn't seen for a good amount of time. There were also some faces that you did not recognize, yet they still felt familiar to you. You couldn't help but notice the way the Kims and Jungs interacted, the warmth of their bonds evident in the way they smiled, laughed, and shared stories during the prayers. Their camaraderie was infectious, and for a fleeting moment, you found yourself longing for that sense of belonging.
As the service began, the congregation settled into a peaceful quiet, the sounds of rustling papers and shifting bodies fading into the background. The priest took his place at the altar, his voice echoing through the high ceilings as he began to speak about love, commitment, and the sacred bonds of marriage. Each word resonated deeply within you, pulling at your heartstrings as you thought of your impending union. As it was explained to you, this Mass was held as the announcement of your engagementâone of many traditions they had.
Namjoon sat beside you, his presence a constant reminder of the promise you had made. You could feel his gaze on you, intense and unwavering, as if he were silently urging you to embrace this new chapter of your life. But the weight of that ring on your finger felt heavier than ever in this moment.
"Love is not merely a feeling; it's a choice," the priest's voice boomed, and you glanced at Namjoon, catching the flicker of expectation in his eyes. "It's a daily commitment to one another, a promise to uphold each other through trials and triumphs alike."
You shifted in your seat, feeling the heat of his gaze on you like a physical presence. You wondered if love really was a choiceâor if, in your case, it was a bargain made under duress. Namjoon's grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly, a subtle reminder of the hold he had over your life.
This was the first time he took you out of the penthouse since the day you woke up in his bed for the first time. He simply did not trust you enough to go out in public with you just yet. Hence, his hand remained on yours in a very obsessive manner, as if you were to fly away at any moment.
The priest continued, "Marriage is a sacred bond, one that should be approached with reverence and care. It's not merely about sharing a life together but about supporting and uplifting one another, about being the anchor when the storms come." He paused, letting his words sink in.
Your mind wandered back to your father, the struggles he faced, and how Namjoon had used that vulnerability to secure your loyalty. The contrast between the priest's idealistic views on love and your reality felt stark. How could you ever find true happiness in a union that felt more like a transaction than a partnership? You were feeling heavy.
"And today," the priest announced, raising his voice slightly to draw everyone's attention, "we gather not only to worship but to celebrate the union of two souls destined to walk together."
Your breath caught in your throat, and a mix of emotions surged through you. Murmurs of congratulations rippled through the congregation, and you felt the weight of countless eyes on you, some filled with excitement, others with curiosity. Namjoon's grip on your hand tightened, his eyes gleaming with pride.
You could feel your cheeks flush as the reality of your situation sank in deeper. The ring on your finger felt like a shackle, the promises made a binding contract that left little room for your own desires.
"Iâ" you started, but the words felt stuck in your throat. "I need to go to the restroom, Namjoon."
His expression shifted, a flicker of concern crossing his face. "Now?" he asked, voice low enough that only you could hear, but firm enough to convey his displeasure. "We're in the middle of the service."
Namjoon hesitated, weighing your request against the backdrop of the ceremony. Finally, he released your hand but leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Make it quick, baby."
You nodded, grateful for the small bit of freedom. Your Louboutin heels clicked against the marble floor, each step echoing like a drumbeat in the otherwise quiet sanctuary. The sound felt amplified in your ears, a reminder of the attention you were drawing as you navigated through the rows of wooden pews. You could feel the weight of curious gazes following you, some filled with anticipation, others with judgment. It was as if the congregation sensed the tension between you and Namjoon, the unspoken power dynamics playing out in real time.
You pushed open the restroom door and stepped inside. The fluorescent lights cast a stark glare, highlighting the contrast between the serenity of the service and the storm swirling within you.
Leaning against the sink, you took a moment to catch your breath. The reflection staring back at you was a mixture of uncertainty and defiance, a girl caught between two worlds.
"Why am I still here?" you whispered to your reflection, the question echoing back at you. You thought of the life you had envisioned for yourself, one filled with love, laughter, and independence, not one governed by fear and obligation.
"I fucked up." After a few deep breaths, you steadied yourself. You needed to return before he would throw a tantrum, as he loved to do whenever you were away from him for longer than ten minutes. Paranoid bastard. You glanced at your watch and noted that only a few minutes had passed. With a resigned sigh, you turned to leave, determination flooding your veins.
As you exited the restroom, you found Namjoon leaning against the wall outside, arms crossed and an expression that mixed concern and annoyance. His posture was protective, yet the underlying tension in his demeanor sent a shiver down your spine. He pushed himself from the wall only to walk towards you, making you take a few steps back into the restroom. His eyes never left yours even when he closed the door and locked it from inside, the sound echoing ominously in the small space.
The reality of your situation pressed down on you, an oppressive weight that made it hard to breathe. He moved closer, his eyes dark and intent.
"I just wanted to make sure you were okay," he replied when you asked him why he wasn't upstairs, his tone both soothing and authoritative.
"You know how important this day is, right? I can't have you slipping away from me."
You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure. "I'm fine. I just needed a moment," you insisted, but the way he watched you made it clear he wasn't convinced.
"You can be honest, Peaches," he said, his voice dropping to a lower, more serious tone. "You're in a room full of people celebrating our engagement, and yet you're out here trying to escape."
His words struck a nerve, and you crossed your arms defensively. "I'm not trying to escape," you shot back, though the lie tasted bitter on your tongue.
"Okay," he said calmly, staring intensely into your eyes, as if he was trying to read you. A small smirk played at the corners of his lips, but the tension in the air remained thick. You did not expect him to drop the topic that quickly.
"I just needed to collect my thoughts," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.
"Okay," he murmured again. He stepped closer, closing the distance between you even more, his body radiating warmth that both comforted and unsettled you. He was standing there, inches away from you, yet he was not taking any action.
"W-why are you so calm, what are you doing, Namjoon?" you asked, trying to grasp his demeanor which you yet again did not understand.
"Waitingâ"
"Can we just go back to the ceremony?" you whispered, your voice barely audible. Namjoon's smirk widened, and he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear.
"Not yet, my love," he whispered back, his voice low and husky. Namjoon's fingers traced the curve of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. "I longed to show you just who you belong to for years."
"You're fucking stunning, Peaches," he murmured, his lips brushing against your earlobe. Namjoon's fingers trailed down your chest, stopping just above your breasts. You felt a jolt of electricity run through your body, and you knew that you were in trouble.
"Namjoon," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "We can't do this here, we're in a church." You tried to push him away.
"You are something I can sin for," he whispered back, his voice low and seductive. You tried to pull away, but Namjoon held you firm, his grip unyielding.
"Namjoon, please," you whispered, your voice trembling with desire and apprehension.
But Namjoon was relentless, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin that left you quivering with pleasure. "You're mine, Peaches," he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck.
"And I'll do whatever it takes to keep it that way."
Namjoon's lips found yours, and he kissed you with a passion that left you breathless. His tongue danced with yours, and you felt your body respond to his every touch. As you kissed, Namjoon's hand slid between your legs, and he began to caress you through your dress. You gasped softly, your body arching into his touch, trembling with the sudden pleasure.
"Namjoon," you whispered urgently, "we have to stop." Your breath hitched as he pressed you against the mirror after he lifted you onto the counter, plunging himself between your legs.
"No, we don't," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "Not until I've claimed you as mine."
The church's silence seemed to amplify the intensity of the moment, and you felt like you were teetering on the edge of a cliff. His fingers traced the contours of your body, exploring every curve and crevice.
"What if someone hears?" you breathed again, desperation lacing your voice.
His lips paused just above your collarbone, and you could feel the heat radiating from him. As if the universe was playing by his rules, the choir started to sing. He chuckled.
"You're mine, Peaches. I won't let anyone take you away from meânot today, not ever." He captured your lips again, his kiss deepening with a fervor that ignited every nerve ending in your body.
His hands were exploring the curves of your thighs, lifting the hem of your dress higher as he pressed you firmly against the cold surface of the counter.
"Namjoon," you breathed, a mix of excitement and fear knotting in your stomach. "We can'tâŠ" you continued your protests.
"But we will." His fingers danced dangerously close to your most sensitive spots, teasing you with the promise of pleasure. You felt your resolve begin to crumble under his touch.
"I've waited too long for this," he murmured, voice a velvet whisper that wrapped around you like a lover's embrace.
"Namjoon," you gasped against his lips, torn between the heady rush of desire and the urgent need to pull back. But with each kiss, each exploration of his hands, your inhibitions began to melt away, surrendering to the intoxicating pull he had over you.
"Just let go," he urged, a soft growl escaping his lips as he pressed his body into yours, making you acutely aware of the hard length that pressed against your core.
"Trust me."
A wild, reckless part of you craved this intimacy, this connection that felt both exhilarating and terrifying. Your mind took you back to all those moments you shared that made your heart flutter and belly tight when you did not know why he made you feel that way.
You hesitated for a heartbeat, the weight of your reality pressing heavily on your conscience. His fingers found their way beneath your dress, inching higher until they brushed against your most sensitive skin. You gasped, arching your back involuntarily as pleasure surged through you, igniting a fire in your belly.
"Namjoon!" you cried out, a mixture of pleasure and panic lacing your voice.
"Shh, baby," he whispered, his lips trailing down your neck as he continued his teasing exploration. With a deft motion, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, sliding them down your legs and tossing them aside as if they were nothing more than an afterthought. The cool air kissed your exposed skin, heightening your senses and making your breath hitch in your throat.
The air in the restroom felt thick with anticipation, each breath you took mingling with the scent of sandalwood and the faint musk of his skin.
âYouâre breath-taking,â he murmured, his voice low and filled with desire.
His fingertips traced closer to where you needed him most, teasing you with the lightest of touches. You bit your lip, trying to suppress a moan that threatened to escape, the heat pooling deep within you almost overwhelming.
âNamjoonâŠâ you whispered, half warning, half plea, torn between your desire for him and the reality of your surroundings.
ââand so wet for me.â He breathed against your skin, his breath sending sparks dancing along your nerves. His tongue danced with yours, a heated exploration that deepened your need for him. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you and the intoxicating chemistry that crackled between your bodies.
His fingers pressed against you, expertly coaxing soft moans from your lips as he slid one finger inside, filling you completely. You bit down on your lip to stifle your cries, but the pleasure was overwhelming, radiating out from the point of contact and pooling low in your stomach.
His eyes sparkled with a predatory intensity, relishing in your reaction. He watched you as if he were savouring a fine wine, taking his time to appreciate every detail of your response.
âNamjoon,â you gasped, your voice a fragile whisper, barely able to maintain any semblance of restraint.
âOppa.â He growled. The way he said itâdeep, possessiveâmade your heart race faster, each beat echoing in the stillness of the restroom. Namjoonâs fingers moved with a deliberate rhythm, curling inside you in a way that sent your mind spiralling.
âTell me how good it feels,â he commanded, his tone a mix of sultry and demanding, eyes never leaving yours as he watched you unravel under his touch.
You hesitated for a moment, your breath coming in quick gasps as pleasure washed over you. âIt feels⊠amazing,â you managed to whisper, the confession slipping past your lips like a sweet secret. You can regret this later.
âGood,â he murmured, the smirk on his face growing wider. âI want to hear every sound you make.â
His fingers moved faster, building the tension to a near unbearable level, each thrust sending you closer to the brink. The world around you faded completely, leaving just the two of you entwined in this stolen moment of passion, lost in the depths of one another.
âNamjoon. I canâtââ his hand smacked your ass and he deliberately slowed down.
âItâs oppa for you. Donât make me repeat it again.â
The playful sting of his hand against your skin sent a rush of warmth coursing through you, mingling with the heat pooling low in your belly. His voice was firm, but beneath that authority was a hint of something deeperâa promise that ignited a wild excitement within you.
âOppa,â you whispered breathlessly, the word slipping from your lips like a spell meant just for him.
He smiled, satisfied, and resumed his movements, fingers working expertly inside you again. The pressure built anew, the delightful tension sending electric shocks through your body.
âGood girl,â he praised, his breath hot against your ear. âI want to hear you, Peaches. Let me know how much you need me.â
With that, he quickened his pace, thrusting his fingers deeper, curling them just right. The overwhelming pleasure began to blur the edges of your consciousness, leaving only the sensations that centred on where he was buried within you. The heat intensified, building towards a sweet, dizzying peak, and you couldnât help but surrender to it.
With a final flick of his fingers, he found that sweet spot inside you, driving you wild. Your body responded in kind, the sensations intertwining with your every thought. You could feel the tightening in your core, the unmistakable signal that you were teetering on the edge of bliss.
âNamjoon-oppa, Iââ you gasped, words failing you as the pleasure escalated.
âShh, just let it happen,â he murmured, his voice deep and soothing, anchoring you in the moment. His lips met yours in a heated kiss, swallowing your cries as the waves of ecstasy crashed over you.
"Oppa!" you cried against his mouth, unable to contain the raw need bursting forth from within. Your body trembled, the climax washing over you in a torrent of sensations, enveloping you completely as you surrendered to the bliss. The choir's distant hymns created an almost surreal backdrop to this heated encounter, mixing innocence with your burgeoning desire.
As the pleasure receded, leaving you breathless and dazed, Namjoon held you close, his arms encircling you like a protective cocoon. You leaned into him, heart racing and body tingling, reveling in the aftershocks of your release.
"See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" he teased, his voice low and playful, a wicked grin spreading across his lips. "To be mine."
Your blurry eyes lifted to look at him, taking him in while you were still panting from the rollercoaster of emotions he made you feel. Flickering down to his bulge covered by the fabric of his black suit pants from Ralph Lauren, your breath hitched again. Enough for him to move his hands to his belt, being absolutely ready to take you. Finally free of his belt, he pulled down his zipper. The fabric of his pants fell open, revealing the outline of his desire, bold and unmistakable.
The urgency of the moment wrapped around you like a tight embrace, making it hard to think straight. You glanced around, the restroom feeling impossibly small, every sound amplified.
"Oppa, pleaseâŠ" you breathed, your heart racing as you tried to pull away, but the undeniable hunger in his gaze anchored you in place. You could see the determination etched on his face, the way his jaw tightened with lust. He had a plan, and it made your pulse quicken. You were not sure what you were begging forâto stop or to continue?
If not for the soft knock on the door, he would have taken you right there, on the church's restroom counter. It jolted you both, pulling you back to the reality of your surroundings. A rush of panic surged through you, and you instinctively glanced around the cramped restroom, your heart pounding in your chest.
"Oppa," you whispered again, this time a plea laced with desire and uncertainty.
He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Just a little longer," he promised, his fingers finding their way back to your thighs, gripping you tightly as if to keep you anchored to the moment.
"Just one more time," he urged, his voice thick with need. "I need to feel youâ"
"Hyung, I know you will kill me for this, but you need to come back upstairs." The voiceâfamiliar and insistentâcut through the haze of desire that had enveloped you both.
Namjoon's expression flickered from lust to annoyance, his grip on you tightening slightly as if to remind you that this moment was still theirs, even if the world outside was intruding.
"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, his frustration palpable. The intensity in his gaze shifted, but it didn't fade. Instead, it turned into something more predatory, a simmering heat that promised this wasn't over.
"We'll be right there!" He shouted back to the voice behind the door. His eyes slowly returned to watch you and your disheveled form after he fingered the fuck out of you.
He leaned in, his lips capturing yours once more, and it felt like time stood still. The world around you blurred, and for that moment, it was just the two of youâlost in a whirlwind of passion that defied the reality waiting outside the door.
His forehead remained pressed on yours when he whispered to your lips. âNext time, we wonât be so rushed, I promise.â Pecking your lips, he quickly pulled his pants back up, securing his belt with a swift motion, yet the heat of the moment lingered between you both.
The calm shattered in an instant.
The heavy church door burst open with a deafening crash. Armed men in tactical gear stormed in with raised weapons, their shouts filling the air. Namjoon immediately pushed you behind him, his eyes scanning the chaotic scene with deadly focus.
The thunderous crack of gunfire echoed off the stone walls as the air filled with the acrid smell of gunpowder. Namjoon drew a gun from beneath his jacketâlike several other family men in attendanceâhis movements swift and practiced. He returned fire, the muzzle flash illuminating his determined face in bursts of light.
Your heart pounded in your chest like a drum of terror and adrenaline. Huddled behind an overturned pew, you clutched your ears against the deafening noise, eyes wide with shock and fear. Namjoon, breathing heavily, scanned the room one final time before turning to you, his eyes softening for a moment.
"Stay down!" he shouted, his voice barely audible above the chaos.
"Jungkook, get them out!" Namjoon barked, his eyes fixed on the fight.
He reached your side, pulling you up by the arm. Jungkook's grip was firm yet reassuring.
"Come on," he urged, his voice a steady anchor amid the storm of violence. He led you through the chaos, his body shielding you from the worst of the gunfire.
Just as you neared the side door, a sharp pain exploded in your side. You stumbled, a cry of agony escaping your lips. The world seemed to slow, the sounds of battle muffled by the roaring in your ears. Looking down, you saw blood spreading across your dress, the pain intensifying with each heartbeat.
"Peaches!"
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.
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©pennyellee. please do not repost
tag list: @hecateslittlewitchling - @ratprincessnr1 - @originalbiscuitfiredreamer - @mggv97 - @urlovelily - @ilys00ga - @beautifulcloudfestival - @herareila @mar-lo-pap
Don't be a silent reader, let's be friends chummers! â„
see you next time, love, p.
#bts#bts fanfic#bts fic#mafia au#yandere bts#yandere#fic: anubis#namjoon x reader#kim namjoon x reader#namjoon x you#mafia namjoon#mafia kim namjoon#namjoon x y/n#namjoon x oc#bts x you#bts x reader#namjoon mafia#namjoon yandere#namjoon smut#namjoon fanfic#mafia bts#yandere namjoon#soft yandere#rm x reader#mafia rm#yandere rm#yandere au#dark romance#Spotify
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Butch up that Elf: my Marcille manifesto
TBQH, this came into being because the Falin "dragoness" fanart rewired my brain completely. It's sillytimes, but we're going to make a serious argument: trying out being a little butch would Fix Her.
1. Marcille Gender Discomfort
Now, Marcille LOVES feminity. She loves playing dressup, she loves elaborate gowns, she spends her free time going to the spa - the absolute last thing I want is to deny that. However, there's also a definite vibe that this isn't just a preference. Specifically, the way that she pushes Falin towards femininity suggests that she isn't comfortable with gender nonconformity in the people around her.
If this was something she was 100% confident about ("I'm doing this for myself and nobody else!") surely what other people do wouldn't be a big deal? Of course, you can read this as a little bit of solipsism; "what works for me must work for you too! I think this is so cute and would suit you - wouldn't you agree?"
But for the sake of this argument, all I'm trying to suggest is that gender nonconformity (and probably sexual nonconformity... well, frankly, any kind of sexuality at all) is unlikely to be something that's on Marcille's "radar". She hasn't tried out other ways of presenting and decided she doesn't like them. I do think she'd be a very flamboyant butch - "ouji lolita" vibes, you know? It's a whole new set of wardrobe options she could play dress-up in, even.
After the story ends, she starts dressing like her mother in all black, which makes sense - her mother was also a court magician, so she's probably emulating her in order to project confidence and authority. But I can't say I think she should stick with this. Break away and be your own person, Marcille! Try a fancy waistcoat and frilled jacket!
2. Haircut
This is another potential hard sell, I'm sure. The people she loves doing her hair is a cute symbol of their care for her, and her hair is key to her magic - so there's plenty of reason for her to keep it long. But like... think practically. Having someone do your hair every morning, for the whole of her long life, while it gets messier over the day (because she can't remember to keep it neat)... That's got to be such a pain. My hair gets messy when I put a hoodie on. And I have short hair.
It would require her to go through a change of mind, and probably a little more growth in how secure she feels in her relationships, but - the hairdo's a symbol. The more important thing is the relationships themselves. Eventually I think there might be something liberating about cutting it off, even if she might eventually decide to grow it out again.
The lion, her trauma, took something away from her which was really important to her. The people around her are able to make that easier, and make up for it, and soften that loss, but... Mithrun isn't the person he was before, you know? He's a new person. The relationship he has with his brother is new, and I don't know if it's one that the person he was before could have had. If Falin hadn't died, they wouldn't have gone on that wonderful adventure! They wouldn't have met Senshi or saved Izutsumi and Laios and Marcille wouldn't have gotten so close. So I think it's totally congruent with the themes of the story that the burning away of this part of Marcille's self might eventually create the potential for new growth in a new direction, not clinging onto the parts that are gone.
This also isn't totally out of the norm for elven mages - both Otta and Flamela have short hair. Otta is canonically butch, and potentially Flamela reads that way to elves too, but the point is it clearly is possible to be an accomplished mage without long hair.
3. Desiring (to be) a chivalrous prince
Marcille's succubus is clearly General Halleus from her favourite book series, the Daltian Clan. The fact that this is her ideal man.... it certainly plays into readings of her as Not Straight. But at least, this conveys the way her conception of sex and romance is strongly idealised, dissociated from the bodily and from physical desire.
There are many ways to interpret that, including thinking about what types of desire this fixation is obstructing because she is not comfortable with it, but I am going to focus here on what this desire does signify. She likes the trappings of courtly romance, and is clearly comfortable putting herself in the role of the princess, being taken away on a white horse by a noble (but tormented; eyepatch has "death" on it lmao) prince. (Though I think he's actually the token male lead who isn't royalty; he's a General. There's always one in Romfan, lmao. IYKYK)
A kiss on the hand - this is so chaste, I think it's clear it's more about desire to play a role in a dynamic than it is about desire in a physical sense. There is undoubtedly a big part of Marcille that wants to be a beloved and chased-after princess, but I think it isn't at all impossible that she'd also enjoy being the powerful, cool, and chivalrous "prince" to someone (a pretty girl, perhaps) who needs her protection.
This is a little silly, because it's clearly just aping the shoujo artstyle that articulates basically the same idea as her succubus, that Marcille is attached to highly abstracted and idealised romantic (and Romantic) tropes and ideas. But the imaginary "successful" Marcille from chapter 4 looks quite similar to her succubus. (Another thing I noticed is that in the fantasy she has sharp ears... like full elves have. Despite what she says, I think the cultural messaging that this trait is "attractive" and hers are inferior got to her at least a bit. đ„)
Also, the way that she treats Falin, scolding her indulgently, trying to look after her and wanting to be looked up to and respected by her... that aligns more with the "masculine" role in the trope that her succubus is referencing. "What are we going to do with you...?" I can imagine her saying this to Falin, word for word. Whereas, if anyone real started talking down to her, even affectionately, I don't think she'd like it, given the negative way she reacts when people don't respect her or her skills. Especially after canon, given the way the Winged Lion was treating her.
Her attitude to Falin is partially down to her reluctance to acknowledge Falin as an adult, who is independent and can grow beyond her and leave her behind. But I think even as they move on from that unhealthy dynamic, Marcille is still going to get pleasure from feeling capable, reliable, able to look after and protect Falin. She'd like to pull the chair out for her in a restaurant on a date, you know?
4. Conclusion
Even after the growth she goes through during the story, there are parts of Marcille's character that are very much obstructed. Romance, sexuality, and gender, feel like one of those to me. The way that her discomfort with the messy origins of food betrayed a deeper, more significant discomfort with the cycles of life and death.
Much in the same way, I'd argue that the simplified, idealistic, and safely fantastical way that she views romance, as well as her very "safe" gender presentation and tendency to push it onto others as well, suggest an underlying discomfort in her own gender and sexuality. The character growth she goes through leaves her in a place where it may be possible to safely re-evaluate her relationship with Falin, as well as her choice of clothing and hairstyle, both things that go through a change at the end of the manga. Neither, I think, reach a sustainable stopping point that we see - there will be a point when it's more servants doing her hair than friends, just out of practicality, because they're all going to be so, so busy. The black clothing to copy her mum is cute, but once she gets some more self-confidence in her own skills as a court magician, I think she'll move on from it. And... who knows what direction her relationship with Falin will develop, over the years? I'm rooting for them, anyway.
In all those cases, I think moving outside of the things she's done before, into something really different from the things that are "safe" and expected, will be the most rewarding path for her. Like in the dungeon, things that she would initially reject were actually able to sustain her and broaden her tastes. She loves dressing up, looking after people, and "princely romance". So I say: Butch Marcille! It'll be good for her!!
#og post#marcille donato#falin x marcille#farcille#dungeon meshi#dungeon meshi meta#dungeon meshi manga spoilers#dunmeshi
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"Evan's not here," Tommy says, and Eddie scowls at him as he pushes past Tommy, already aiming for the kitchen as he hitches the six pack he'd brought with him up under his armpit. It'd been a - a thing. A 'my best friend and my new friend are too busy sucking face to spend every spare moment distracting me from my problems' thing, a thing where Eddie sort of finally understood exactly why Buck had hip checked him on the basketball court months ago. He wants his best friend back. He wants the ease of his friendship with Tommy back.
Which is - Christ, he's selfish, is the thing. A month without Chris there to keep him occupied and Eddie has had some startling realizations about himself. ("You're not selfish, Eddie, you're the most selfless person I know." from Buck and "So fix it," from Tommy, a rare night out with the both of them because he'd headed date night off at the pass by asking Tommy to go out for drinks before he and Buck could make plans without him).
"My world doesn't revolve around Buck," Eddie tells him, and screws the cap off a beer to hand it to Tommy. Tommy's doing that judgmental face he gets when he wants to say something bitchy but hasn't put the words in the right order yet. And - Eddie's not lying. Buck is a fixed point, an ever present life-line, but he's not the fucking sun.
Neither is Chris, apparently, which is news to Eddie and he's - spiralling, still. Quietly, calmly, and he's only punched one hole in the wall on a bad night.
"You ever go to Frank?" Eddie asks, like Frank is the only therapist in the greater LA area, and Tommy rolls his eyes, disappears long enough for the muted sound of the television to go quiet.
When he comes back Eddie's reading the label on his beer bottle
"Apparently I resent you," Eddie says, and Tommy chuffs a laugh.
"Apparently?"
"No, I -." The words had been just as hard two hours ago. This little trip was his own design, he'd been told specifically to sit in it for a while but Christ, an hour a week isn't enough time to talk through his issues and it's not like he can tell Buck he resents him for finding something he's happy and stable and solid in. So. Tommy it is. "You and Buck are good together. I'm happy for you both. I am."
Tommy settles against a countertop with his hip digging into the Formica. His kitchen has gained a dutch oven that looks suspiciously like the one Buck has been showing Eddie for like six months that he couldn't justify the cost of because he's not around enough to use it as much as he'd like.
"I'm not usually the one without his shit together," Eddie says.
"No offense, Eddie, but I thought the whole point of therapy was you realizing you rarely have your shit together."
Also true. He's - usually better at hiding it though. Kim was a joker stacked up on a wobbly house of cards and he'd known, somewhere in the back of his mind, that she'd bring the whole thing tumbling to the ground. Mass casualty event. No survivors.
"You make each other better people," Eddie says, which is the wrong thing to say apparently because Tommy scowls.
"If you wanna completely ignore all the work we've both put into ourselves," he snipes, and - yeah. Fair. Buck's been in therapy for years now. Every once in a while he'll pull something out of his ass that makes Eddie's skin itch - something so mystifyingly self-aware that it makes Eddie want to claw into his chest cavity and rip out his fucking heart. And Tommy - well, he doesn't know much but it's not like Tommy's the paragon of perfection. He's worked through some shit. Is still working through shit, if the aftermath of his and Buck's first real fight is any indication.
"I've never been with someone who makes me want to work on myself," Eddie admits, and the lines around Tommy's eyes shift. He sighs.
"Never gonna find that if you don't want it for yourself."
Yeah. Frank's said as much. It's just - Eddie doesn't have a starting point. Tommy had the whole hiding his true self thing, and Buck had the dead-brother-shitty-parents thing, and he's whittling them both down to the sharp edges of themselves in his mind, which isn't entirely fair but it's easier than trying to confront what the fuck his own problem is. Dead wife, his kid in another state, a contentious relationship with his father, a whole backlog of PTSD he's never really confronted head on. Weird feelings cropping up about a religion he thought he'd left in the dust and sand of Afghanistan and a hole he's been trying to fill up with other people since - well, he doesn't even know since when.
Tommy's got his dog tags laying in the bottom of an empty fruit bowl on his kitchen table. Eddie's never seen them before, and some part of him knows Tommy'd brought them out for a conversation with Buck he'll never hear himself, and he aches. He doesn't want them, but he wants what they have, wants to be able to talk about the difficult shit without closing in on himself, wants to have someone to come home to, wants -
"I spent six months imagining my therapist's head exploding every time she made me talk about something uncomfortable," Tommy tells him, and takes a long drag off his beer. For the first time since he'd knocked on Tommy's door, Eddie actually feels a little bad about interrupting his night, but that just leaves him spiralling some more because Eddie usually feels bad about everything, all the time, so why hadn't he felt guilty about this until now? And why does he feel guilty about not feeling guilty?
"I just want him to fix me," Eddie says, and Tommy laughs. Laughs hard and long enough that Eddie's feeling offended. Off kilter and pissed off and -
"You're not a single loose wire, Eddie. Can't just replace a cable and have a clean slate. You gotta change your oil and replace the spark plugs and top up the coolant, over and over again until you die."
It's the sort of metaphor Eddie'd like to lob across the field of engagement just to watch it get shot to pieces. It's apt, though.
"Feels like the whole engines gotta go," Eddie tells him "Transmission's shot and my catalytic converter keeps getting stolen and the mufflers been welded back on so many times that it's half-solder."
"Christ," Tommy says, which. Yeah. Exactly. "Well you can't exactly send yourself to the junk yard for scrap and buy a newer model."
"Buck does," Eddie snaps, and Tommy rolls his eyes. He'd been there the last time Buck brought up his 1.0 days.
"Half the time a system update patches ten bugs and creates twenty more."
"So Buck's buggy, is what you're saying."
He rolls his tongue over his teeth. "You are running off faulty software and you've been refusing to update to the new version because you heard it'd burn the battery faster, is what I'm saying."
Eddie doesn't have a whole lot of charge to begin with. And the metaphors are starting to muddle in his brain, too many different ideas battling around when he's already spent an ornery hour talking to Frank and another trying to convince himself he doesn't resent his best friend for accepting his own fucking flaws and working on them.
Tommy sets the beer bottle down. Eyes Eddie for a moment, and Eddie wonders how often he levels that look on Buck, how Buck feels when Tommy flays him open and digs through his insides. "You wanna go hit something for a bit?" he asks, and Eddie nods so quickly he nearly smacks his nose into the brim of the bottle in his own hand. He's about done feeling his feelings, for the moment. He'll probably end up being annoyed that Tommy makes him wrap his hands before he takes some aggression out on the bag hung up in the corner of Tommy's garage, but maybe when Tommy gets annoyed with him and does that takedown maneuver that knocks the wind out of Eddie's lungs when they're sparring he'll let that go.
Tommy flicks his forehead on the way to grab him something to wear. "That's for calling my boyfriend buggy, jackass," he says, and laughs himself all the way down the hall when Eddie splutters after him.
His bedroom door snicks shut by the time Eddie's recovered enough to remind him that he'd been Eddie's friend first.
#eddie&tommy#just a little something to tide us over until we get eddie riding the struggle bus on screen#bucktommy
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OK since I haven't seen too many people talk about this since twitter news usually strikes pretty fast over here whenever e'usk does anything ever, let me give ya'll the run down on two things that will go live on NOVEMBER 15TH and why people are mass migrating to Blue Sky once more; and provide resources to help protect your art and make the transition to Blue Sky easier if you so choose:
The Block function no longer blocks people as intended. It now basically acts as a glorified Mute button. Even when you block someone, they can still see your posts, but they can't engage in them. If your account is a Public one and not a Private one, people you blocked will see your posts.
They say because people can easily "share and hide harmful or private information about those they've blocked," they changed it this way for "greater transparency." When in reality, this is an extremely dangerous change, as the whole point of blocking is to cease interaction with people entirely for a plethora of reasons, i.e. stalking, harassment, spam, endangerment, or just plainly annoying and not wanting to see said tweets/accounts. or you know, for 18+ accounts who do not want minors interacting with them or their material at all (There is speculation saying these changes are specifically for Elon himself so he can do his own kind of stalking, and honestly, with the private likes change, it lowkey checks out in my opinion)
Also, this straight up goes against and may violate Apple and Google's app store policies and also is straight up illegal in Canada and probably other countries as well.
If this ACTUALLY goes through, twitter will only be available in select countries, probably exclusively in the US, which would collapse the site with the lost of users and stock, and probably be the last push it needs to kill the site. And if not, will be a very sad and exclusive platform made for specific kinds of people who line up with musk's line of thinking.
2. New policies regarding Grok AI and basically removing the option to opt out of Grok's information gathering to improve their software.
And anything you upload/post on the site is considered "fair game" with "royalty-free licenses" and they can do whatever they please with it. Primarily using any and all posts on twitter to train their Grok AI. A few months ago, there was a setting you can opt out of so they couldn't take anything you post to "improve" Grok, but I guess because so many people were opting out, they decided to make it mandatory as part of the policy change (This is mainly speculation from what I hear).
So this is considered the final straw for a LOT of people, especially artists who have been gripping on to twitter for as long as they can, but the AI nonsense is too much for people now, including myself. Lot's of people are moving to Blue Sky for good reason, and from personal experience, it is literally 10x better than twitter ever was, even before elon took over. There is no algorithm on there, and you can save "feeds" to your timeline to have a catered timelines to hop between if your looking for something specific like furry art or game dev stuff. It's taken them a bit to get off the ground and add much needed features, but it's genuinely so much better now
RESOURCES
Project Glaze & Cara
If you're an artist who's still on twitter or trying to ride it out for as long as you can for whatever reason you have, do yourself a favor and Glaze and/or Nightshade your work. Project Glaze is a free program designed to protect your art work from getting scrapped by AI machines. Glazing basically makes it harder to adapt and copy artwork that AI programs try to scan, while Nightshade basically "poisons" works to make AI libraries much more unstable and generate images completely off the mark. (These are layman's terms I'm using here, but follow the link to get more information)
The only problem with these programs is that they can be resource intensive for computers, and not every pc can run glaze. It's basically like rendering a frame/animation, you gotta let your pc sit there to get it glazed/nightshade, and depending on the intensity and power of your pc, this may take minutes to hours depending on how much you wanna protect your work.
HOWEVER, there are two alternatives, WebGlaze and Cara
WebGlaze is an in browser version of the program, so your pc doesn't have to do the heavy lifting. You do need to have an account with Glaze and be invited to use the program (I have not done so personally so I don't know much about the process.)
Cara is an artist focused site that doubles as both a portfolio site and a general social media platform. They've partnered with Glaze and have their own browser glazing called "Cara Glaze," and highly encourage users to post their work Glazed and are extremely anti-ai. You do get limited uses per day to glaze your work, so if you plan on doing a huge backlog uploading of your art, it may take awhile if your using just Cara Glaze.
Some twitter users have suggested glazing your art, cropping it, and overlaying it with a frame telling people to follow them elsewhere like on Bluesky. Here's a template someone provided if you wanna use this one or make your own.
Blue Sky Resources and Tips
So if your a twitter user and your about to realize the hellish task of refollowing a massive chunk of people you follow, have no fear, there's an extension called Sky Follower Bridge (Firefox & Chrome links). This is a very basic extension that makes it really easy to find people on Bluesky
It sorts them out by trying to find matching usernames, usernames in descriptions, or by screen name. It's not 100% perfect, there's a couple people I already follow on Blue Sky but the extension could not find them on twitter correctly, but I still found a huge chunk of people. Also if your worried that this extension is "iffy," they do have a github open with the source publicly available and the Blue Sky Team themselves have promoted the extension in their recent posts while welcoming new users to the platform.
FEEDS and LABELS
OK SO THE COOLEST PART ABOUT BLUESKY IS THE FEEDS SYSTEM. Basically if you've made a twitter list before, it's like that, but way more customizable and caters to specific types of posts/topics. Consolidating them into a timeline/feed that exclusively filled about those particular topics, or just people in general. There's thousands to pick and choose from!
Here's a couple of mine that I have saved and ready (down below). Some feeds I have saved so I can jump to seeing what my friends and mutuals are up to, and see their posts specifically so it doesn't get lost in reposts or other accounts, and also specialized feeds for browsing artists within the furry community.
The Furry Community feeds I have here were created by people who've built an algorithm to place any #furry or #furryart or other special tags like #Furrystreamer or #furrydev. They even have one for commissions, and yes you can say commissions on a post and not have it destroyed or shadow banned. You are safe.
If you want, and I highly recommend it to get visibility and check out a neat community, follow furryli.st to get added to their list and feeds. Once your on the list, even without a hashtag, you'll still pop up in their specialized feeds as just a member of the community there. There are plenty of other feeds out there besides this one, but I feel like a lot of people could use one like this. They even got ones for OC specific too I remember seeing somewhere.
And in terms of labels, they can be either ways to help label yourself with specific things or have user created accessibility settings to help better control your experience on Blue Sky.
And my personal favorite: Ai Imagery Labeler. Removes any AI stuff or hides it to the best of it's abilities, and it does a pretty good job, I have not seen anything AI related since subscribing to it.
Finally, HASHTAGS WORK & No need to censor yourself!
This is NOT like twitter or any other big named social media site AT ALL, so you don't have to work around words to get your stuff out there and be seen. There are literally feeds built around having commissions getting and art seen! Some people worry about bots and that has been a recent issue since a lot of people are migrating to Blue Sky, but it comes with any social media territory.
ALSO COOL PART,
you can search a hashtag on someone's profile and search exclusively on that profile as well! You can even put the hashtag in bio for easy access if you have a specialize tag like here on tumblr. OR EVEN BUILD YOUR OWN ART FEED FOR YOUR STUFF SPECIFICALLY!
So yeah, there's your quick run down about twitter's current burning building, how to protect your art, and what to do when you move to Blue Sky! Have fun!
#Twitter#Blue Sky#BlueSky#Cara#Project Glaze#Glazed Art#NightShade#Twitter Update#cara artists#art resource#resource#Online resource
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Content contains: pro-hero bakugo being a career man. mentions of katsuki having an s/o! I hope these ideas capture his fiery, no-nonsense personality while also showing how much heâs grown into a reliable and inspiring hero.
prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who when every time someone mispronounces his hero name, he snaps and shouts âItâs DY-NA-MIGHT, not âDynamoâ or whatever crap you just said! Learn how to read, damn it!â
prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who has a rigorous training schedule. Yes, cooking breakfast and cuddle time with his s/o is part of that schedule nevertheless. Even as a pro, Bakugo starts his day with a 5:00 a.m. workout. His mornings include explosive quirk drills, which terrify his neighbors, but he refuses to apologize because, âHeroes donât take days off, morons.â He does try to keep it down a notch when he heard through his neighbors' kid that they were thinking about moving houses.
prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who insists on being on the frontlines for every mission, no matter the scale. Heâs the first to charge in during a disaster and wonât leave until every civilian is accounted for. âIf Iâm not giving 100%, why the hell am I here?â And you better know that everyone appreciated him for his selfless actions.
Prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who is efficient to a fault. His rescue operations are insanely effective but intimidating. Heâll shout at panicked civilians to âMove your asses, idiot!â but then carry them out of danger with precision and speed. Later, when they thank him, he awkwardly mutters, âYeah, whatever. That's what I'm here for anyway. Just donât get stuck again.â
prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who has a signature explosion mark. After saving the day, he always leaves behind a controlled, smoky explosion shaped like his logoâan orange starburst with jagged edges. Kids love it and call it his âhero stamp.â He just did it one time because y/n liked the idea of him having something like a bat-signal, it became like a routine for him.
prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who's surprisingly good with kids. He didnât expect it either, but kids adore him. When they swarm him for autographs, he grumbles, âYou better not smudge this!â but secretly loves the attention. He even kneels down to their level so they can high-five him. It did took him time to warm up to them after some thought, he wanted to be like how All Might was when he was a kid.
prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who is strict with his sidekicks. Bakugoâs sidekicks are the most well-trained in the industry because he pushes them relentlessly. He shouts, âIf you canât handle this, youâre wasting my damn time!â but always ensures theyâre prepared for real missions.
prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who still has an unspoken rivalry with Deku, and everyone in general, but now itâs about who saves more people. Bakugo keeps a tally and texts deku, âTook down 8 villains today. Whatâs your number, nerd?â
prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who personally oversees every modification to his hero costume, from grenade gauntlets to lightweight boots. If the support team messes up, heâll fix it himself, muttering, âIf you can't do it right, I'll do it myself.â This causes his support team to work twice harder next time.
prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who has workaholic tendencies. He rarely takes time off, claiming, âVillains donât go on vacation, so why should I?â His s/o and his entire agency forces him to relax. Needless to say, his s/o alone can convince him. Even then, heâs still scanning news reports for emergencies.
prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who is an emergency quirk strategist. Bakugo has a knack for coming up with split-second strategies in the middle of chaos. Heâll bark orders to other heroes, and while theyâre annoyed at his tone, they follow him because heâs always right. Other heroes learned it the hard way one time when they didn't follow his 'suggestion' and ended up making the situation worse.
prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who gets tons of fan letters and gets flustered reading them. One of his fellow heroes suggested for him to buy a shredder, but you know damn well he flipped them off. He gets tons of fan mail, but he has no idea how to respond. He also did not know what to do with them until his s/o opted to help him with this problem. Sometimes heâll scribble a quick âThanksâ with a little explosion doodle and hope itâs enough, his s/o would be the one to arrange and mail them.
prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who is devoted to his parents. Bakugo visits his parents regularly, bringing them little gifts like flowers for his mom (which she teases him about) and bunch of snacks and clothing pieces for his dad. He even helps fix things around their house during his rare free time. He makes sure his sidekicks and secretary knows when to remind him to call them during breaks.
prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who has is looked up to by other pros for his emergency evacuation drills. When Bakugoâs agency holds safety drills, his team wins every time. He calls it âreal hero trainingâ and will go all-out to make sure everyoneâs prepared.
prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who was invited one time to attend a charity by ochako and it became something he does everytime. While heâs not a fan of public speaking, Bakugo attends charity events because he believes in helping beyond hero work. Heâll reluctantly auction off items like âBakugoâs autographed gauntlet,â secretly donating extra money because âthose kids need it more.â
prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who is an incredible loyal team leader. Bakugo might be tough on his team, but heâs fiercely protective of them. He is especially protective of his interns, some of them referring to him as the older brother they never had. If a villain hurts one of his sidekicks, you better know heâll go all-out to take them down while yelling, âYou donât touch my people!â
prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who built his own agency to be one of the best heor agency headquarter there is. His agency is a sleek, well-organized base equipped with cutting-edge tech and a training ground. The office is always clean because he enforces âNo slacking off!â rules, even for janitorial staff. In his hq, he made sure that there is one room dedicated for his s/o.
prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who became an unintentional role model. Despite his rough personality, students and new heroes look up to Bakugo because of his dedication and success. He doesnât know how to handle compliments and usually responds with, âStop wasting time and go do your damn job!â
prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who mastered using small, precise explosions for rescuesâblasting through rubble without causing harm or creating paths for civilians. Itâs become his trademark move, and no one does it better.
prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who's explosive personality makes him a media favorite, but he hates interviews. When forced to participate, he answers in blunt one-liners like, âVillains suck, so donât do crime.â Although he did receive criticism at the start of hero career because of his brash attitude, but that's all.
prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who knows how to separate his personal life from his career so well that some fans were surprised when he revealed in an interview that he was already married. He proudly showed off his wedding band, telling his interviewer that he was a happy married man.
áááą @deprivedreality 2023 | all rights reserved.
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Hello hello! I am still absolutely obsessed with the "Fire" fic you wrote. You are such a talented writer omg, the storytelling, the humour, everything!
So I thought, I have an idea for a funny fic and I'm just gonna send it in LOL I remember Lando saying in an interview that he's really scared when he's the passenger. So what if his GF is speeding all the time and Lando is just internally freaking out and sweating while trying to keep his cool next to her?
Just an idea, if you don't wanna write it that's fine too (:
omg omg omg thank you so much! i'm blushing and i'm scared - hopefully you'll like this one! i added a detail that might be little over the top - but who knows? not me anymore.
I'll drive
"You have a car?!" Lando uttered, forgetting any table manners, the food he had been chewing nearly falling out of his mouth.
Y/N was dead silent, the look on her face strongly resembling a child who lied about cleaning their room and just blushed every toy under their bed.
Her boyfriend gave her a cheeky questioning look, and when it finally set in - the fact she had been hiding the existence of her car from him - he was truly stunned and somewhat amused.
"So, wait. You know how to drive?! Why am I always taking you places?" he asked rhetorically, never actually being bothered by that, but still.
"I don't know how to drive-" she tried before getting interrupted by her father.
"Of course she does, I taught her myself," the jolly man said and patted her on her back with a proud smile. Y/N's face got washed with crocked smile, as if she swallowed something truly detestable.
"No, I do not know how to drive-"
"Nonsense, she's alway been so hard on herself," he father continued. Y/N just sighed.
The young couple came to visit her hometown for the first time. It was lot of reminescing of old times and her school days - a context that Lando very much appreaciated. He had met her as a grown up woman, but that weekend, he witnessed many amusing moments and heard lots of stories that only childhood small towns hold. What did he love the most about this experience? The fact there was nothing for her to do to stop it, no matter how much she frowned. Influx of surprising moments, but this discovery topping all of them.
She saw Lando's perplexed face and tried to save the situation. "I never lied to you, technically you never asked...I just figured you like driving so much, why bother, especially if I am so bad at it..."
Lando was not having it. "Oh, you're not getting easily out of this one," he replied, biting his lower lip, actively having to remind himself of the fact her family was right there. There was something innately attractive about her being so raw and pushed into a corner. Just pure cuteness. "I'm sure you're not half as bad as majority of the people out there," he said, new plans forming in his head. "I think you and I should take her for a spin," he said, referring to the car, and hid his smile behind a glass. Her eyes were piercing his with an energy so intense, it was electrifying.
"No, Lando, I am not driving while you're in the same car," she stated firmly, not breaking the eye contact.
"Come one, sweetheart, it'll be fun," he said, honey dripping out of his mouth.
"It will be anything but that," she said, but Lando ignored that, turning into her father for more information.
"So what kind of a car it?"
The rest of the conversation continued in description of a car Y/N herself could only describe as red, her father telling a story about how he got it for his daughter and how she actually barely ever drove it, which apparently broke his heart.
//
Let's not forget, this was Lando - of course he had ulterior motives. While it was great, spending few wholesome days in the company of his girlfriends family, his frustration grew, because for some reason, she refused to have any intimate activities in her family's house. Why, he had no idea. But of course, he respected that.
She never mentioned anything about not having some nice outdoor sex in a car. He wanted to see her drive and also ride. His perfect afternoon.
Lando is not the best of passengers, often uneasy about the common mistakes casual drivers made. Taking over the wheel is a natural thing for him to do. But, this was an exception he was excited to make - how bad could it be, right? He learned the hard way not to ask that question again.
//
"You sure you don't want to switch places?" she asked, once again, doing everything she could to get out of this.
"Nope babe, passenger seat is the vibe for me today," he smirked, making himself overly comfortable sitting next to her.
She raised her eyebrows. "Here goes nothing, I guess," she murmured and put the keys into ignition.
Lando found it amusing, seeing her so hyper-focused, as if she was launching a rocket ship. To be fair, it was a manual car - so it was close.
Three deep breaths - I fucking hate this, she thought, turned the key and released the clutch. When the car immediately jumped, Lando regretted sitting in his usual obscure way, his head hitting the door with quite a loud bump.
"Told ya," she said and started the car again. No matter how much she tried, she couldn't possibly sell her mistake as an intention.
"You released the clutch too soon," he said while assessing the bump forming on his head.
"Do not give me advice when I drive, makes me angry," she announced and this time actually managed to start the car in a semi-ok way.
Lando watched his bubbly, happy-go-lucky, girlfriend turn into a monster and there was nothing for him to do to stop it.
Everything was somewhat fine when they were still on the quiet roads surrounding her neighborhood. She stopped on the way to the main road, watching two cars that were comically far away and letting them pass. They didn't have to say anything, both knew what the other one was thinking. Y/N knew there was plenty of time for her to join the road before those cars, but the lack of trust in her own abilities was making her wait stubbornly. Lando watched the scenery, amused and starting to understand that in this relationship, his place as the driver was more than secure. She didn't want to be in this position, in fact she was increasingly more mad, that Lando and her father teamed up on her. But since she was where fate got her, she was absolutely not accepting Lando smirking at her.
"I know what you think, we have plenty of time, so I will not be doing some stupid moves to get us both killed," she said and gripped the steering wheel even more.
To prove his point, Lando leaned over her and squirted his eyes and watched the slowly approaching cars. He gave her a sarcastic nod. She rolled her eyes.
"I'm joking, I'm joking," he said, putting his hands in defense.
"You better be, otherwise I'll just yeet us into the ditch."
"Feisty..."
And that was when the line got crossed.
"Fine!" she said, having no control over her emotions, and pressed the gas with new found energy. She turned, almost into a drift, and joined the main road, nearly having the two cars crash into her.
Lando gripped the handle, not expecting her to speed so much. His eyes went wide with realizations - she was the kind of driver operating on emotions. Had this been a racing track and an F1 car, he'd be having more fun, knowing the cars were epitome of safety. He was not so sure about this vehicle.
She had the "Tsunoda" energy and absolute lack of skill to go about it. Weaving, wrong gear almost constantly and not bothered by the sound her car was making.
"You're driving quite close to the lane, baby," he commented, getting more and more worried about their safety.
"Shut up, don't be all smart about it," she said, lips locked in a line. She was focused - not that it helped.
Another hard turn where she missed the right moment to go into it. Lando took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second, trying to stay calm.
After few hundred metres, he couldn't take it again.
"I think you're way over the speeding limit," he mentioned.
"That's not what this says," he nodded to her speedometer. Lando leaned over and had to laugh.
"Yeah, that's definitely not correct. Honey, I'm sorry, but the lane - you are too close to it," he said in the calmest tone he could gather.
"My brain does not work like that, I see it more in an abstract way..."
His eyes nearly popped out. "You see the road in an abstract way? Oh dear god."
She sighed, not understanding what was the big deal was. "No like, it's a concept. It's not real, if there is nobody on the road, you can be anywhere."
"I'm pretty sure that's not the case, sweetheart," he said and thought for himself that it could be the case if she knew how to drive, but not like that. "Change the gear, you're burning your clutch."
She slapped the steering wheel. "I. Do not. Accept. Advice. At the moment. Thank you!" she said slowly before going on a rampage. "We both know you're exceptionally good at this, it was your idea, I tried to stop you, so now face the situation and do not tell me what to do because I might panic even more!"
"Ok, ok, calm down," he said, putting his hands up in defense and turning his head away to avoid watching her inventing a new way how to turn the steering wheel.
This sent her over the edge, truly giving up on any rules. She was mad, scared, uncomfortable and kind of hungry to be honest.
Lando stayed silent, worried for his life, regretting his decision and making a mental note to listen to her if she says she can't do something - if they survive this.
A huge bump and a loud noise. She barely managed to keep the car on the road.
"What is that?" she screamed, not knowing what to do.
"Front left tire puncture, retire the car! I mean, shit, stop, over there," he gestured, to the sideline of the road.
//
"Ok, so what now?" she said once it seemed like a decent amount of time for him to stop observing the wheel.
"It's just the tire, I'm sure you've got a spare at the back, right?" he asked and like the gentleman he was, got up and looked in the back for a replacement. When he got it out, he proudly put it in front of her, considering his part of the job done. She stared at him, not moving. "There you go," he said, encouraging her. "They taught you how to do this at driving school."
"Um, yeah. I missed that lesson. Can you do it?"
"How could you miss that lesson?" he asked in desperation. Both of them stood there, waiting for the other to take the lead. It was very unusual for Y/N to see him this passive around a car. "Come on, you must have had a question about this on your test," he pleaded.
And then it clicked. "Lando?" she asked, having a very strange feeling about his behavior. "Do you know how to change a tire?"
He stayed silent, pretending to ignore her question. Y/N's eyes went wide. "Oh my god, you don't know how to change a tire?!" she asked once again, unable to believe that could even be the case. "Isn't that like half of your job?"
"Well no, actually, my job is to drive. There is a whole team dedicated for changing my tires," he said matter-o-factly.
"You're a racing driver. Spend more time in a car than in a bed. And you don't know how to change a tire," she stated and started to laugh. "That's so rich."
He let out a heavy sigh. "I've never actually done it myself. Plus these are normal tires, different system."
"Oh my god," she said, unable to process.
The way how much this whole thing has backfired had Lando stuck. He was suppose to be engaging in inappropriate activities with his girlfriend at this moment. In his understanding of that, it did not include getting his phone out and searching for an online tutorial for bloody tire change. But, there he was. Y/N was suddenly having so much fun, coming off a high that was the adrenaline her body produced during driving. She was free and driving was impossible now. Bliss. In her opinion, this was all Lando's fault - she told him she couldn't drive. Payback time - hopefully Oscar would pick up.
She was dialing her phone, while he was trying to understand how to go about this.
Yes, he picked up! "Hi, this is Y/N," she said in a very serious tone. "Who are you calling?" Lando mouthed, his biggest worry that she dialed up her father and he is now going to have a reputation until the end of time. "Help," she mouthed back silently.
"Hi Y/N," was Oscar's response, the driver being somewhat confused as to why she was calling him. "What's up?"
"Glad you ask. Me and my boyfriend got into a serious situation."
"You and Lando?"
Lando frowned. "Are you calling assistance? We don't need them..."
She ignored him."Yes, I was forced to drive-"
"He let you drive?"
"Forced-"
"What kind of assistance is it?" Lando asked, doubting the whole phone call.
Y/N continued without pausing. "And we managed to get a flat tire, which I don't know how to fix and to surprise of the whole universe, he can't fix as well."
There was only laughter on the other end of the call.
"Y/N, who are you calling?"
Y/N pretended not the hear Lando. "Do you know how to change a tire?"
Oscar was more than amused, knowing he just gained a wild card to use on Lando anytime he would want. "Yes, of course I do. Put me on Facetime with him."
Y/N smirked at her boyfriend, who was still confused and with sparkles in her eyes handed him her phone.
"Oscar says hi!"
Lando blinked, several times. "What? No!...Shit. Hey Oscar," he waved at his teammate awkwardly.
"I have been summoned," Oscar announced, finding this all very amusing.
"Yes," Lando replied, defeated.
Oscar did not wait and took the situation in charge. "First step to do is make yourself seen, guys. You got a triangle?"
"Where's the bloody bucket hat when you need it the most..." Y/N mumbled, having Lando roll his eyes in reaction.
"I'll go and find it and you guys figure this out, ok?" she said handing over the phone to Lando and giving him a little peck on the cheek.
"I hate you," he said with a smile.
"I hate you more," she replied and skipped over to the trunk.
//
After series of creative curse words, one pair of ruined jeans and a celebratory high five, the pair stood once again in front of her car, staring at each other.
"I guess I'll drive us back," Lando decided loudly and waited for her approval.
"Agree. Let's not disturb the gods anymore. You're such a bad passenger princess anyway."
The past hour was filled with lot of conflicting emotions, but the only one that stayed was the love the two shared just by looking at each other.
"I'm sorry I forced you into this," Lando apologized softly. "It was not fair. I see that now."
Her lips turned into a weak smile. "Thank you. And sorry for calling Oscar. I'm sure he won't let you forget this."
He saw right through her. "No, you're not sorry about that - I can see the devil in your eyes."
She bit her tongue. "Yup."
It was hard for Lando not to kiss her in that moment. It was impossible for her to resist.
#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#lando norris fanfic#ln4 imagine#formula 1#formula one x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#fluff#lando norris fluff#formula 1 fluff#formula 1 fanfic#ln4 x reader#ln4 x y/n#lando norris x y/n#formula 1 one shot#f1 one shot#lando norris imagine#ln4 fic#f1 requests
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Inexperienced reader x Cod Characters +18
(Ghost, Price, König, Keegan)
!gn reader! tw: mention of âdaddyâ (Price only), nsfw, riding, bj
Ghost
"Simon, I've never done anything like this." Your boyfriend lovingly stared at you before placing you on his lap and straightening your hair with one hand. "Take off your underwear," he urged, massaging your thighs and assisting you in removing the last piece of clothing.
"You just have to sit down, love, be good and sit on my cock." He whispered hoarsely before pointing to his thick member and asking you to take it with one hand.
"Am I doing something wrong?" . You took his cock and aligned it with your hole, making him gasp. "Fuck, put it in." He practically forced you to accept all of him, pressing you down with both hands on your hips. "Now bounce, show me how good you are at riding me." He said kissing you on the lips, you gathered courage and started moving on his length awkwardly. You felt his cock pressing against your walls
 "Simon.. am I good?" you said putting your hands on your shoulders, while you desperately tried to come on him, extremely slowly.
"You're great, but now leave it to me"
Price
You've been seeing John for two months now, but you've never had the confidence to take things a step further and become more intimate. John knew he shouldn't force you, but it was getting increasingly difficult for him to hold back.
 "Baby, how about we try something new besides cuddling?" you heard the older one remark in a whisper as he gently kissed your neck. "Hm, what do you mean?" You spoke while looking into his eyes.
He didn't answer, so he forced you lie down on the bed and caressed your sides. "John, I'm not sure I know how to do this," you replied, before he turned you on your back.
"Trust daddy," John pulled down your jeans, causing you to gasp; you parted your legs and went on all fours for him. "See? "You're already great," he chuckled before pulling out a condom and tearing it open with his teeth in front of you.
"When you have my cock inside it will be beautiful, sweetie, I promise."
König
You spent little time together due to his work, and months had passed since your last encounter; you missed him in every way possible. You last saw him in the bedroom, naked next to you, after fucking you all night. His phone calls were the only thing that provided you any relief.
"Konig, I don't know what to do." You heard a faint laugh on the other end of the phone. "What do you want to do Schatz?" .
"I don't know how to pleasure myself." You answered meekly, but it wasn't completely a lie; you typically waited for Konig to make you cum, and you'd never had to masturbate alone.Â
"Oh, such a little thing. Schatz, open your legs for me and listen to what I say." You place the phone next to you, open your legs, and insert your hand into your underwear. "You can't even wait for me to get home, what do I do with you?" You massaged your sex, groaning loudly so he could hear.
Konig smiled as he heard your moans. "So you know what to do; you just wanted to hear my voice and masturbate, right? What if I didn't make you come at all?"
Keegan
"Open your mouth," you were on your knees in front of him, her throbbing cock barely touching your mouth, wetting it with precum. "I don't have all day," he reminded you, playfully slapping your cheek with his length.
"I never have, Keegan," you confessed, avoiding his amused gaze, he didn't seem surprised. "Oh, I guess I'll have to teach you." He stroked your hair before running his thumb over the center of your lips, causing them to part slightly. "Behave and open your mouth for me." You obeyed, resting the tip of his cock against your tongue.
"Now start sucking, don't use your teeth." Keegan said softly, pushing your head against his member. You sucked weakly, closing his eyes, enjoying the taste of him. You heard him moan as he pushed your head against his cock faster and faster.
 "hold your breath". You held onto his legs, before pushing him away with tears in your eyes.
"I never thought you were this good at sucking cock" he chuckled, seeing you with your mouth open, ready to start again.
#cod#cod x reader#cod keegan#keegan smut#keegan russ x reader#keegan x reader#cod smut#keegan x you#keegan p russ#cod reader insert#ghost x male reader#ghost character#ghost smut#ghost x reader#ghost call of duty#john price smut#price x reader#price smut#john price#captain price#konig x y/n#konig#konig call of duty#konig modern warfare#konig mw2#konig headcanons#konig cod#konig smut#konig x reader
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Serving The Alien And Its Puppets - Part 2
"I will be waiting inside the car," The Arab prince said. He was now just a puppet for the Alien Master, his pretty head was filled inside with alien slime.
The Alien Master liked the Arab Prince so much that he switched his original form from my stepbrother's body to the Prince. My job today was simple and easy, all I had to do was help put some alien slime inside my hot coworkers... Of course, I'm being ironic, I was very nervous about the whole thing.
The company I worked for was mostly made up of Middle Eastern men and all of them were very hot. I was one of the few with European descent, and it was torture for a gay guy like me to work with such fine specimens.
Typically, the Alien needs to assimilate a brain per day, sometimes two. However, today he expressed his desire to assimilate every person at my workplace. I was perplexed and attempted to ask him why, but he just told me to be quiet and do as I was told.
I was very excited but also a little nervous. Once inside the building, I spotted my first victim, Ibrahim, the receptionist, sitting on a chair distracted by his phone, not even noticing me walk in.
Ibrahim worked at the front desk, he was a tall, muscular guy with a grumpy personality. All I knew about him was that he was a ladies man, and he wouldn't stop talking about pussy. I smiled to myself, he would be perfect.
I slowly walked to his desk and put a purple slime on his table, Ibrahim looked at the purple blob, and before he could say anything the slime leaped onto his face, squirming its way into his nostrils and burrowing towards his brain. He let out a deep, guttural grunt, his eyes rolling back as violent convulsions overtook his body. His muscular arms hung limply by his sides, his head drooping backward. That moment, I knew the transformation had begunâthe slime was already feeding, replacing Ibrahim's brain with something new, something better.
Ibrahim then looked at me, with the same lust that every puppet would always give me. "Come here boy, you're going to get what you deserve!" He said, his voice now husky and deep, he pushed me down on my knees and unzipped his pants, freeing his huge, hard cock. "Suck on it while I talk with my date for tonight!" He ordered. "I usually would never let a fag like you have a taste of my cock, but you are my Master's human slave and your job is to serve his puppets!"
I started sucking as he kept thrusting his hips forward, I took his entire cock into my mouth, sucking and licking it as best as I could. He moaned loudly, his hips bucking against my face as he fucked my mouth, his eyes were on the phone all the timeand. He quickly came down my throat. "Drink it all, human."
"What the fuck is happening here?" Mr. Tarek, our supervisor asked as he walked into the room. He stopped in his tracks when he saw me with my face buried in Ibrahim's crotch.
Ibrahim quickly coughed one purple slime and threw it on the floor, the small slime quickly crawled and disappeared under Mr. Tarek's pants. Mr. Tarek groaned as the slime forced its way inside his ass, seconds later Mr. Tarek was also a puppet for the alien.
"Come here human slave, you're going to be our slut now," Mr. Tarek ordered. I stood up and walked to him, he pulled me for a sloppy kiss, while I unbuttoned his shirt.
Mr. Tarek was such a hot Daddy, I always wondered what he looked like under his clothes, especially his huge pecs, now I not only knew how I could feel too. I ran my hands on his meaty pecs and started to suck on his nipples as he moaned. "That's a good slave, suck on Daddy's tits," He moaned, and I did as I was told.
I lost myself in those pecs until I felt Mr. Tarek's hand pull me away by the back of my hair. "That's enough, you still have others to help convert into our Master's puppets." He then coughed another slime and handed it to me.
He was right, the Alien Master was waiting for me outside, I could play with these puppets later, it was time to move on to the next victim. I knew exactly who was going to be next, walking inside the other room I spotted the young intern, Khalid. I felt a little guilty, Khalid seemed like a nice guy, but after seeing the bulge in his pants it passed away.
He was sitting at his desk when he noticed me and welcomed me with a warm smile. "Hey Eric, can I help you with something?" he asked.
I stepped closer, my heart racing as I approached him with a blob of purple slime moving on my hand, his eyes widened in surprise and confusion. "What the hell is that?" He stuttered, standing up and moving away from me.
I didn't respond, after all, what could I say? "Hey, Khalid? Would you let me put this goo inside your head so it can feed on your brain and replace it with a slime?"
So I just threw the slime toward him, but I failed when he protected his face with his hands, making the slime fall to the floor. He then ran to the door, he was about to walk out, but he bumped right into Mr. Tarek's large pecs.
"Mr. Tarek, you need to help me! Eric has with him some weird creature!"
But Mr. Tarek looked completely blank and unresponsive as he blocked the door with his body.
"Mr Tarek?" Khalid asked. He was starting to question why the supervisor was with his shirt open, and was that saliva on his nipples? but before he could react, Mr. Tarek grabbed Khalid by his chin and forced a kiss, Khalid tried to fight but Mr. Tarek was stronger.
I could see some purple slime being passed from Mr. Tarek's mouth and into Khalid's, the intern's eyes went wide in shock, and then his body went limp as the alien slime started to take over his body.
Mr. Tarek then whispered into his ear, "Welcome to the family, Khalid." with that, Khalid nodded and gave me an eerie smile.
"Take off your pants and bend over my desk, now!" Khalid said with a commanding tone, but his voice was the same, it was terrifyingly sexy. I felt my face flush red, seeing innocent Khalid acting in such a dominant way made me very hard.
As I bent over the desk, I soon felt Khalid's hands on my ass, ripping my underwear and spreading my cheeks as he buried his face and started to eat my ass. I was in heaven until I felt a hard slap on my ass.
I looked behind me and saw Ibrahim, Mr. Tarek, and Khalid, all standing together behind me without their pants and with their hard dicks pointing at me. Suddenly they all started to speak in unison.
"The Alien Master is angry that you almost let one of his puppets run away, he wants us to punish you!"
The three of them took turns, one fucking me hard while the others watched and stroked themselves.
Ibrahim was first, his thick cock pushing into me without any mercy. I moaned loudly, feeling him fill me up and stretch me wide open. He fucked me hard and fast, his grunts and groans echoing through the room. Mr. Tarek was next, his cock was even larger than Ibrahim's, and he was not gentle either. He grabbed my hips and pounded into me, making the desk shake beneath us, pens, papers, and a mug, all fell to the floor. Lastly, Khalid, his cock was thicker than the others and he took his time, savoring the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of me.
The Alien Master, watching through their eyes, was enjoying the show. His slime was pulsing inside each one of them, making their cocks even harder and their strokes more aggressive. When the three finished inside me, I stood up with three loads leaking from my ass and smirked at them.
"There's still plenty of puppets to make, give me one more copy," I said.
But the three just laughed at me and spoke in unison. "Master don't want you to help him anymore! We will do the takeover from here, you will just watch."
I sighed. It seemed that I had really angered the Alien Master, and now I feared for the future of my brain. I nodded and followed them to the next office. I watched as they forced a kiss on the other men, and within seconds, those men would be under the alien's control, forcing a kiss on other workers. They moved swiftly and efficiently, and before I knew it, the entire floor was filled with puppets.
There was Amir, a muscular Daddy fitness enthusiast, who worked as the manager. He was so huge that it took both Ibrahim and Mr. Tarek to hold him while Khalid infected him with the slime.
Amir was known around the office for his stern demeanor and unwillingness to be dominated by anyone. Now, under the alien's control, he was leading a group of his fellow converted colleagues toward the next department.
Then, there was also Karim, the office gossip, he spread a rumor once about me ogling the men's bulges, now his mouth was used to spread the alien's slime rather than rumors.
I was kneeling between his legs, looking up at him as some commotion was going on in the background.
"You like staring at our bulges huh? You're such a perverted human," He said as he shoved my face into his bulge, his hard cock pressing against my face. "If you like staring at men's bulges so much, then here it is!" I couldn't help but feel a bit of spiteful satisfaction as I started to lick the bulge in his pants, feeling it pulse and throb in my tongue.
"There you are!" Amir called from behind, yanking me up by the shirt collar. "Omar wants to have a word with you!"
"Can you carry me in your arms? My ass is really sore." I asked, trying to give him my best puppy eyes. Amir took me in his huge strong arms as if I was made of paper, as he carried me to Omar's office, I caressed his pecs.
Then there was finally Omar, the office heartthrob and the executive assistant. Whose hot body was now a vessel for the alien slime. Amir put me down on my knees as I looked up at Omar sitting on his chair, he was holding a mug.
"They put some slime copies on the coffee machine; I have to admit, that's pretty clever," Omar said as he stood up, loosened his tie, and approached me with a hungry look. I knew what was coming next.
"You've been a naughty human, Eric," he purred, his voice low and seductive. "Our Master thinks you need a more thorough lesson in obedience."
The other puppets walked into the room forming a circle around me, Omar pushed me to my knees and ordered me to unbuckle his belt and blow him. His cock grew before my eyes, the slime making it swell and pulse with an otherworldly need. I couldn't resist the urge to touch it, to feel the power of the alien through this beautiful vessel of a man. He groaned as I wrapped my hand around his shaft, stroking it gently before taking it into my mouth. The puppets gathered around us, their eyes gleaming with lust as they watched me service Omar.
Omar let out a primal roar, tearing open his dress shirt to reveal his perfectly sculpted, hairy chest. One by one, the others followed his lead, ripping their shirts apart with a savage fervor, there was no humanity left in them. It was like watching a scene from a twisted sci-fi porn, where the alien's insatiable hunger was not just for brains, but for power and sexual control.
They were all jerking off around me and soon they came at the same time, all over me. I was a mess, covered in the cum of 32 men, but I didn't care. I felt like I was part of something big, something powerful.
I felt like a slut in a sea of hot, alien-controlled men, and I couldn't help but love every second of it.
After hours of servicing those men, I walked out of the building, feeling used but oddly satisfied. I couldn't believe I just helped turn all my coworkers into brainless hosts. The copies filling their heads don't need to feed like the original Alien inside the Arab prince, so they would go back to their old lives as normal, the slimes would act just like them, only I would know what was inside their heads.
I stepped inside the car where my Alien Master was waiting.
"I'm fed and satiated for now, you almost did a good job, my human slave," he said, his voice still deep and commanding.
"Thank you-"
"I said 'almost', you almost let one of those humans run away, he would have if it wasn't for one of my puppets. That's what I get for trusting a human."
"I helped you turn my stepbrother and stepdad into your dumb puppets! What else do I need to do so you can finally trust me?" I said. But when I looked at the prince's face, I immediately regretted it. "I'm sorry Master, I promise-"
"Quiet," he cut me off. "You will be punished for that later, now give this puppet a blowjob while I drive us to his hotel!"
I took the Arab Prince's cock into my mouth as he drove off. Once at the hotel, I decided to take a shower, I needed a good shower to take the sweat and cum from the day's events off my body.
I walked out naked of the bathroom, there was no reason for modesty anymore. I saw the prince smoking on the balcony, looking over the city lights, he then turned to look at me.
"Sorry for being too harsh on you today, my human." He said, blowing out some smoke.
I couldn't tell if he was mocking me or being sincere, but I didn't dare to question it. "I've been thinking, you have been a great companion to me, I never thought I would ever let a human with an intact brain for so long, I hope you realize how special that makes you."
I was speechless, it was the first time the Alien Master was being kind to me.
"Thank you, Master," I murmured,
The Prince then sat on the bed, his cock already hard again, he looked at me with hunger in his eyes.
"Come here, my sweet human," he ordered, and I knew I had to obey. He grabbed me by the waist and gently pushed me onto the bed, spreading my legs and climbing on top of me.
His huge cock slid into me easily, and he started to fuck me with a slow, deliberate rhythm that made me moan.
This was different from the other times. The Arab Prince, or rather the Alien Master, was not as rough. His movements were tender, almost loving, and his eyes bore into mine as he whispered how much of a good human pet I was.
As he thrusted, he was pinning my hands above me on the bed as he kissed my neck. Once we came, The Alien Master cuddled me in the prince's muscular arms, his cock still hard inside me. It was the closest thing to affection I had ever felt.
"Who do you think should be the next puppet?" He asked.
"I'm thinking of Mr. Wahid's son? he's a hot arrogant hunk, just like his dad."
Suddenly the prince's eyes became completely purple, scaring me for a second, it was the first time I was seeing it.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"I'm accessing the copy inside Mr. Wahid's mind right now," Right, sometimes I forget that the Alien can have access to all his puppet's memories at any moment. The prince's eyes went back to normal.
"It looks like his son is traveling for a business trip, but he will be back tomorrow morning, It'll be the perfect opportunity."
"I agree, Master."
"Then you should get some sleep; we're heading to the airport in the morning."
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Harsh Reality
Pairing:Â Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader
Word Count:Â ~3.8k
Warnings:Â minor angst, being cheated on (not by bucky), fluff
Summary: You come home to surprise your boyfriend only to end up catching him with another woman in bed. Now, you have to live somewhere else. You try to move on with your new roommates but it proves to be difficult when you were never really good at the dating part of your relationships.
Square Filled: safe house (2023) for @buckybarnesbingo
One in a Million Series
Authorâs Note:Â a while back, i announced i wanted to make a series based on the show New Girl, and i didn't want to wait around to write it. i won't be doing every episode in the seasons, and i won't be doing it word for word like i do for my rewrite. enjoy!
x
Your plane lands earlier than expected and the first thing you want to do is surprise your boyfriend, Jack. You left to go to a teacherâs conference in New York and have been gone for an entire week. Thatâs not much but it is when you consider you and Jack havenât been apart for more than a couple of days out of the six years youâve been with him.
You left your car with him since he didnât have one so you took a taxi back to your apartment. Youâre bouncing with giddiness and slight anxiety because youâre doing something youâve never done before.
For those who know you, youâre not very good with the whole sexy seducing thing. Jack makes it easy for you. He takes care of everything and that includes you. Still, doing something out of your comfort zone is nerve-racking as it is exciting. Your best friend, Natasha, is on the phone while youâre in the back of the taxi wearing nothing but a brown trench coat.
âWhy am I so nervous? This is a good thing, right? I mean, this is for Jack.â
âYouâre not used to doing something like this but trust me, heâs going to love it.â
âYeah, Iâm just going to walk in and drop my coat on the ground. He says he had this fantasy that I'm a stripper with a heart of gold, and he's helping me put myself through college.â
âHe didn't say the college part, did he?â
âUm, no, I wanted to create a three-dimensional sex character.â
âReally? What's your stripper name?â
You look at the driver who briefly looks at you. âRebecca Johnson?â
âYour stripper name is Rebecca Johnson?â Natasha asks.
You can practically hear her bitch face.
âBoobies Johnson,â you quickly correct. âTwo-boobs Johnson.â
âLook at you, in the back of a cab, totally naked. I am so proud of you.â
The driver pulls up to the house that you share with Jack. âI gotta go. Iâm here.â
âGood luck, Two-boobs Johnson,â she chuckles.
You pay the taxi driver as you get out and walk inside your home. Itâs quiet so maybe Jack is still sleeping. Heâs known for sleeping in late. He doesnât have a job because he got laid off two months ago, but heâs been doing odd jobs to keep the money coming in. That plus your teacherâs salary is enough to get by. You walk to the closed bedroom door and open it with a smile, however, that smile is lost when you come face-to-face with Jack.
Heâs not sleeping. No, heâs fucking another woman. Both of them look at you with wide eyes, and Jack pushes his mistress off him as if she means nothing to him.
âY/N! Youâre home early.â
âI wanted to surprise you.â
âItâs not what you think.â
âI gotta go,â you whisper.
You quickly turn and run out of the house, forgoing the fact that youâre practically naked. Jack calls after you but you donât stick around to hear what kind of lame excuse he has for you. The taxi is long gone and you donât have the heart to call for another one, probably because your hands are shaking so much. How can he do this to you? Youâve been together for six long years.
You thought he was the one.
Natasha lives on the other side of town but you make it there sooner than you thought you would for someone who was running. She has a nice apartment overlooking the city. It was out of her price range but because she is so good with selling herself, she talked the landlord down to a price she was able to afford. Sheâs one of the best real estate agents this city has ever seen, so the landlord didnât have a problem with lowering the price for her.
You knock twice on her door and she opens it with a frown.
âWhat happened?â
âHe cheated on me,â you whisper. âI caught him with a woman in his bed.â
âOh, babe. Iâm so sorry. Come in.â She wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into her place. âIâve never liked him.â
âYeah, wellâŠâ
âListen to me. I know how you are. Donât blame yourself for this.â
âWhy did he do that? Am I not attractive enough? Sexy enough? Is it my singing?â
âNo, itâs not your singing,â she sighs. âMen are pigs and Jackâs true colors came through. This is all on him.â
âI wondered why he wasnât taking my calls. I just figured he was working.â
Natasha sighs and rubs your back in comfort.
âYou donât need him, Y/N. Listen, you can stay with me until you find something else, okay?â
âNo, I donât want to impose.â
âIâm serious. Itâs okay. I have the spare bedroom you can use.â
Despite her offer, you donât want to worm your way into her life. Sheâs active on dating sites which means she brings home guys left and right. She lives alone and you remember what it was like to have someone invade your space like this. Itâs why that night, you go online to see if there is anyone who is looking for roommates.
You shouldnât go on sites like Craiglist when it comes to living somewhere, but you donât make a lot of money as a teacher. If you were to go through an agency or even on Facebook, you wouldnât find something cheap. You scroll through the obvious trolls until you get to one ad for an apartment downtown.
Four bedrooms. Open floor plan. Itâs a loft of sorts. There are three women there looking for a fourth, and you think this is what you need to make a new start. Youâre afraid if you slow down, youâll be forced to think about your ruined relationship with Jack. Youâve never been cheated on so the betrayal hurts that much more. You gave him six years of your life and nowâŠ
What are you going to do?
Before you can talk yourself out of it, you respond to the ad that youâre interested and go to bed.
Tomorrow morning, you wake up to seven missed phone calls from Jack and over twenty messages, but you ignore them and get ready. Natasha is eating breakfast in the kitchen already dressed to show a house.
âHave a house to sell?â
âYeah. Iâll be gone most of the day.â
âI might have found an apartment.â
âWhat?â
âI saw an ad on Craigslist. I know itâs not ideal, but Iâm going over to them right now. Itâs three women looking for a fourth roommate for their loft.â You see the look on Natashaâs face and sigh. âI need something to do Nat, otherwise all Iâll do is cry.â
âOkay. Call me if you need me.â
âI will,â you smile.
You get dressed and head over to the apartment downtown. You knock on their door and freeze when a man with a metal arm opens the door. Two men, one blonde and one muscular, stand behind him, and you look confused when you donât see any women.
âAre you Y/N?â the man at the door asks.
âYeah. Iâm here for the apartment listing if youâll still have me.â
âNonsense. Come in,â the blonde one smiles.
You walk in and look at the loft, already liking what you see. You donât care that you assumed it was women and theyâre men, you just need a new place to live. As much as you love Natasha, thatâs her space and you donât want to intrude. Plus, you donât want to feel like a charity.
âMy name is Y/N, but you already know that from the ad,â you say nervously.
âIâm Steve and this is Thor and that is Bucky.â
âCool metal arm you have. Iâve never seen that before.â
âThanks,â he mutters.
When you get nervous, you get chatty, and these three men make you hella nervous. Itâs not that theyâre intimidating or mean, but youâve never lived with three guys at once. The only man youâve ever lived with was Jack, and even sometimes that was too much. So, you start by telling them more than what they want to know.
âSo, you know in horror movies when the girls are like, âOh my God, there's something in the basement. Let me just run down there in my underwear and see what's going on in the dark.â and you're like, âWhat is your problem? Call the police.â and she's like âOkayâ but it's too late because she's already getting murdered? Well, my story's kind of like that.â You tell them everything from Jack cheating on you to not wanting to live with your best friend and invading her privacy. âSo, that happened. That's why I need a new apartment. I'm sorry, what was the question again?â
âDo you have any pets?â Bucky asks.
âNo, I donât,â you chuckle and stand up. âThis place is beautiful. It gets so much light. Jack hated light. It's hard to say his name.â
âIt's okay. Bucky knows. He got dumped,â Steve says.
âDude,â Bcuky hisses.
The place doesnât look fancy but itâs new and it can be the start of a new chapter if they let you.
âYou know what, I want to live here,â you grin.
âActually, I still have some questions,â Bucky says. âNo offense, but we barely know ya.â
âYeah, okay. Full disclosure, I'm kind of emotional right now because of the breakup so I'll probably be watching Dirty Dancing at least six or seven times... a day.â Thor shakes his head but doesnât say anything to that. âUm, I'm a teacher so I bring home a lot of popsicle sticks and arts and crafts. Also, I like to sing to myself⊠a lot.â You start to sing. âA lot.â You sigh. âI donât want to live with my friend. I hate feeling like a charity case even though she doesn't mean to treat me that way.â
âIf youâll excuse us, weâre going to talk in private,â Steve says.
All three men go into the bathroom while you take the opportunity to look around.
âI think itâd be good to have a woman in here,â Steve says. âItâs good to have a womanâs touch in here.â
âNo, all sheâs going to do is disrupt our vibe,â Thor argues.
âBucky? What do you think?â
âWell, Iâve lived with a woman before so I know there are pros and real cons. For one, they smell good but their girly shit will start to be everywhere. Um, theyâre good at folding.â
âOkay, weâre not going to come to a conclusion but Iâll take Buckyâs indecisive for a yes. Sheâs in!â
âYay, Iâm in!â you say from outside the door. Steve chuckles and opens the bathroom door, and you smile at all three men. âYou wonât regret this.â
Natasha was weary about you moving into a place with three strange men but you need this. It didnât take long for you to move in since you didnât take much from your old place, so the reality of your situation comes crashing down around you the second you get a bit of breathing room. Dirty Dancing plays on the TV for the third time, and youâre lying on the couch surrounded by used tissues and a few of your boxes. Natasha must have called your mom because she immediately called you, worried about living with three strange men.
âIâm fine, mom. You donât need to worry about me.â
âBaby, you and Jack broke up. Of course, Iâm going to worry about you. Youâre not watching Dirty Dancing, are you?â
âNo, Iâm not watching Dirty Dancing,â you mutter.
âDid you make sure those men arenât murderers? You know how badly I stress Stranger Danger. Youâre my baby, Y/N.â
Just then, Bucky walks into the room.
âHey, are you gonna murder me 'cause you're a stranger I met on the internet?â
âYes, I am,â he says without looking at you.
âHe says no,â you say to your mom. Thor and Steve walk in, having just come from the gym. âI gotta go, mom. I love you.â
âSo, the biggest party of the year is on Saturday. I'm trying to get us in but you may need to call Sharon,â Steve says to Bucky.
âIâm not calling Sharon.â
âHear me out, Buck.â
Before Bucky can say anything, you sob as another wave of depression hits you. All three men look at you and huddle around each other, not sure how to handle this. They havenât lived with a woman in years, and Bucky slaps his hand on Steveâs chest.
âYou did this. You wanted her in. You fix it.â
âOkay, I got it.â Steve walks over to you and sits on the edge of the couch. âHey, Y/N. Are you doing alright?â
âIâm fine,â you sniffle.
âWhy donât we turn off the movie, okay?â Steve takes the remote from you and turns off the movie. âCome on, sit up.â You do and he smiles kindly at you. âSee? Doesnât that feel a bit better?â
âNot really.â
âLook, I was cheated on before. It wasnât fun. In fact, it felt a bit shitty. I donât know you that well but I know you didnât deserve it. Look, thereâs this party on Saturday, and you need to get your mind off your ex. Itâll be fun. Youâll go out, meet some people, have a few drinks, and forget all about him. Sounds good?â
âYeah, I guess that doesnât sound so bad.â
âGood,â he smiles. âNow, why donât you get dressed? Bucky works at a bar. Weâll go out for a few drinks and maybe get you a rebound.â
âOkay,â you whisper.
You get off the couch and trudge to the bathroom to shower.
âThis is all hinging on actually getting into the party,â Thor says.
âBuck, come on. You donât even have to see her. Just call her and ask her to get us on the list.âÂ
Bucky walks into the bathroom just to get away from Steve but the latter follows him in.
âThereâs someone in here,â you say when you hear them entering the bathroom.
âWe're leaving in ten minutes, did you shave your legs?â Steve asks.
âI will now.â
âFront and backs?â
âYes.â
âThank you.â Steve looks at Bucky. âJust call Sharon. You call her all the time when you're drunk.â
âNo, I donât. Shut up.â
You shave your legs and finish with the rest of your shower. Luckily, the boys have taken their conversation outside of the bathroom. You wonder what the deal is with Bucky and Sharon. How did things end? Based on his refusal to call her, you assume it ended badly. Will you be like this with Jack?
Like Steve said, you all leave ten minutes later to the bar Bucky works at. Bars arenât usually your scene but you really want this to be a fresh start. You havenât flirted with or been on a date with someone in six years. Everything was reserved for Jack. Youâre not even sure if you have it in you to find a rebound. If you canât be sexy well, how can you expect to capture a strangerâs attention?
All it takes is one bad experience to ruin potential future ones. Bucky, Steve, and Thor watch you try to flirt with men but each one fails. Youâre either too weird, too loud, sing too much, or too awkward. After about six tries, you sit at the bar with a defeated look. Bucky walks over to you and slides you a pink wine, your poison of choice.
âWell, I guess I can't hide my crazy,â you sigh.
âI don't think you're trying that hard.â
âI've never been great at this stuff, soâŠâ You look up and muster a smile. âLooks at us, a couple of losers. We both got dumped, jeesh.â
âIâm fine,â he says. âIt was six months ago.â
âDo you know why she dumped you? I mean she must've hurt you pretty bad.â
âI donât want to talk about it,â he sighs.
âArenât you always wondering, like, what it was? Like, was there something you could have done differently?â He shales his head wordlessly. âDo you know what happens to people who keep it all inside? They get old and they get sad and they get weird and then you're the old man yelling at the kids who are running across your yard and you're telling them, 'Don't run across my yard. My life's full of regret'. You can't just pretend like it didn't happen.â
âOr I could pretend to be more like you, Y/N, and live on a sparkly rainbow and drive a unicorn around and just sing all the time.â
âYeah, I think you should sing all the time,â you giggle.
âNo, I was being mean, I'm not gonna do that, Y/N.â
âWhy not? Itâs fun!â
âBecause I have a dick, Y/N.â
âIâll get you to sing one of these days,â you chuckle.
One of Steveâs friends comes up to the bar and smiles flirtatiously at you, and Bucky backs up to give you some space. He watches you smile at the man, and he looks down in thought. If you can try and move on, he can, too. He takes out his phone and dials Sharonâs number before walking away to take the call.
âSo, I was going to go to the party this Saturday, but Iâd rather take you out if youâre interested,â he says.
âYeah, Iâd like that,â you smile.
âGreat. Maybe we can go to dinner first.â
âSure. Let me put my number in your phone.â The man hands over his phone, you put your number in, and you call yourself so you have his number. âIâll text you, okay?â
âSounds good,â he smirks and winks. âIâm Peter, by the way.â
âY/N,â you smile.
Looks like you scored a date and you weren't weird at all. The high of getting a date wears off an hour before you have to leave for it. Youâre stuck in your room, wondering what to wear. What would be sexy enough? Should you be sexy? Cute? Casual?
God, what am I doing?
Natasha comes over to help as soon as you text her, and all three of your roommates are shocked into silence, more so Steve than the others. Sheâs beautiful and has guys hanging off her arm. Sheâs well known, her picture is on billboards across the city. Sheâs not shy about her appearance, and this is one of those times. Thor and Bucky look at each other when they notice Steve staring with a smile on his face.
âNatasha. Do you go by Nat?â
âOnly to my friends.â
âCool,â he nods. âIâm Steve.â
âY/N, do you need my help?â she calls out.
There is a thump followed by a yelp. âIâm okay.â She gets up and walks to your bedroom to see you lying on the ground like a starfish. âI tripped on my heels.â
âOkay, sit up.â
You sigh and do as youâre told. âWhat am I doing? I can't go on a date. What if it's horrible? What if I have nothing to talk about?â
âThen you go to the bathroom, you call me, and you tell me all about it.â
âMaybe I just shouldn't go.â
âBabe, you got hurt. That doesn't mean you stop trying. Okay?â
She has a point. Some might think itâs quick how fast youâre trying to move on, but you canât slow down. If you do, you fear that youâll never stop crying. With Natashaâs help, you dress in a short black dress thatâs classy but still covers everything. You two walk out, and all three men look at you in surprise. Bucky leans his elbows on his knees and rubs his hands together. Thor and Steve smirk at each other, already in tune with what Bucky is thinking.
âWow. You look amazing,â Bucky says.
âThank you,â you blush. âIâm kind of nervous but also kind of excited. Iâm going to text him and tell him Iâm heading over.â
âWait, have you been texting him?â Bucky asks.
âYeah, is that bad?â
âNo.â He smiles slightly. âItâs nice. Have a good night.â
âThis is going to be great,â you grin.
Natasha drives you to the restaurant, and you grab a table since Peter isnât here yet. Youâre a bit early, anyway, so you donât mind the wait.
Sharon is able to get all three men on the list at the party since she knows the owner. Thor, Bucky, and Steve arrive at the party which has a bunch of people outside waiting to get in. Theyâre in line when Bucky notices a few of Steveâs friends, including Peter. They spot Steve and head over immediately.
Bucky frowns when he doesnât see you.
âWhereâs Y/N?â
âOh, dude, she texted me like seven times. Like long ones. I just wanna hook up.â
âSo, is she waiting for you to show up or did you call her?â
âYeah, that's what I did, I called her,â he laughs.
Peter and his friend head inside but Bucky stays where he is. Thor is about to go in when he notices his friends not following him.
âWhat are you doing?â
âI canât go inside, man.â
âWhat do you mean?â
Bucky shakes his head, turns, and jogs away from the party with Steve. Thorâs been looking forward to this party, but he understands that you need them more. He sighs and runs to catch up with his friends.
After thirty minutes of not showing, you know Peter wonât be here. Youâre the only table in the restaurant without food except for the free bread they give out. You sigh sadly and look down at your lap, picking apart the bread. You look up when you hear footsteps head your way. Oh, itâs only a waitress.
âDo you have anything else that is free, but also has bread in it because the good bread I ate and uh, all that's left is a⊠it's like a⊠it's kind of like a health bread?â
âI'm sorry. We're gonna have to ask you to give up the table.â
âUm, can I please just stay, just a little bit longer?â you ask in a small voice.
âWeâre here!â You look behind her to see Thor, Bucky, and Steve enter the restaurant. âYup, weâre here, Y/N!â
Seeing them is ten times better than seeing Peter.
âWe're here for the date thing,â Steve says.
âYou're all here for the date?â the waitress asks, shocked.
âYeah, we are. We're her boyfriends. We are reversed Mormons. One man just isn't enough for her,â Bucky says.
âOkay,â the waitress sighs and walks away.
Now that sheâs gone, you look down in sadness. The reality of being stood up weighs heavily on your shoulders.
âHey, Y/n, that guy was a jerk. You donât deserve him.â
âYou guys missed your party to come here to see me?â you ask and look into his eyes.
âYeah, we care about you. We like you.â
âThatâs so nice,â you sniffle with a smile.
Youâve only met these guys, but you know that moving in with them is one of the best things you could have done for yourself.
x
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#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes fiction#bucky barnes fan fiction#bucky barnes fan fic#marvel fic#marvel fan fiction#marvel fanfiction#marvel fanfic#mcu#marvel fan fic#marvel fluff#marvel#mcu fanfiction#marvel fiction
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.Shift by channeling.
Go to your DRs by channeling, again, step to step guide.
This can be used as a separate method, or you could use this when you need a final push.
This isn't the spiritual type of channeling, nor do you need to use AI or something, nor do you get possessed.
Step 1:
Before attempting to shift, choose a person from your DR. It could be your S/O, you can choose to channel multiple people, if you have a friend group or something, but i recommend picking someone whom you have a close connection with in your DR.
Have a voice claim ready, take some times to look at the person's pictures, remember their physical attributes, focus on their personality.
(You can listen to songs which remind you of your relationship with that person)
Step 2:
Lay down, when you're prepared to shift. You're going to start off saying affirmations like it's a normal shifting method.
If you can visualize, i recommend you think of visual affirmations which relate to your DR.
Its a method to affirm, where you go around your DR, whether it's your DR house, room, or a memorable or nostalgic place in your DR, and see your normal shifting affs, carved, written around, for example, your affs formed by clouds, carved into pillars and tables, written on your clothes, finding papers or letter which say your affirmations (so Affirmations â Your DR)
You should try to be hype fixated, so if you are fidgeting, can't stay still, you're too engrossed in what's going on inside your mind to notice your body itching or twitching.
Do this until your symptoms intensifies or reach a peak, everyone feels differently, for some it's more physical (seeing light flashes, tingles, floating) for some it's mental (having a gut feeling, feeling euphoric) so don't get discouraged.
You aren't doing anything wrong.
Step 3:
This is where we come across our special person. While you're seeing your affs, make yourself meet them. Now, if you're confused and going to say this isn't channeling, then just stop. You're creating this reality and undoubtedly every moment you're experiencing, so when you're in a deeply concentrated phase, the only thing that could possibly stop you from having a very real and authentic meeting with your SP is your own self-doubt (anyways, if you're having self doubt then say an aff or two to combat them)
Your SP is standing right in front of you, let yourself loose at this point. No need to force anything scripted, but if you want then you can.
Have a conversation with your SP, whether it's initiated by you or your SP.
Maybe even invite them to drink tea, sit outside, take them to a secret spot.
Now you're having a conversation with them, starting off with your conscious thoughts doing the talking from your part, whatever your SP says is your subconsciousness speaking, or you're directly channeling them (both of which are the same thing, i hate being repetitive, you're creating reality if you believe you're being channeled by your SP, then that's what's happening)
Start off with a normal conversation, like how'd you talk to someone, someone you love and know very well.
Right now, you're going to say a very specific affirmation:
"(your SP's name) is just about to ask me what i was doing in my OR/void reality."
Then let the conversation take a natural turn. That question will eventually be asked, your loved one is just very curious about why you were away from them.
Now, what you will answer back will be the way how to shift.
"Oh, must be a fever dream, i had never had a dream so real, i was touching everything, each and everything felt legit." (best for permashifters, don't be afraid of using this if you intend to come back)
"I guess it was out of responsibility, but don't worry, i'm here now."
"I don't know myself, all i know i didn't like being there."
"I was curious, that's all; you know i like exploring new things, and come on, it was a whole new universe, but now i want to rest at home."
Whatever your SP says in response, whether they're asking you to come join them, or how they're glad you're back, just nod back.
Step 4:
Go to sleep in your DR, if you recall, you're in your home. Go towards your bed, crash down, close your eyes.
From this point onwards, you're going to embody your DR self and fall asleep acting normal, completely abandon the fact that you were shifting, or that you have shifted to your DR, act like a person (your DR self) living in any other world (your DR)
I described this in details in the third phase of my pinned post, you're supposed to do all that.
You'll wake up in your DR.
Why is this method supposed to work?
Connection to your DR environment â
Logically explains your involvement with your previous reality, why you were there for so long â
Reminds your consciousness that you've successfully shifted â
Connection to your loved ones in your DR â
Most importantly, connection to your DR self â
...
That's the method, you can also shift in between the method as well. There really isn't any reason for you to wake back in your CR, listen to some subliminals to remove intrusive thoughts, then you're good.
You could also make it so your SP had more control over your shift, like they brought you back, you can modify the method according to your wishes.
It's a short and sweet method, believe in your abilities and you'll be out of here faster than lightning.
...
This method is heavily focused on visualizing, if you have aphantasia then your DR SP can just speak to you, when you eventually cross over to your DR self's state of mind (if they can visualize) you'll get the ability to visualize like them, or get flashes of images.
...
Also thanks for everyone who gave me compliments in my inbox I have no clue how to receive them, but I am very grateful (:
#reality shifting#shiftblr#shifting#shifting blog#shifting antis dni#shifting motivation#shifters#shifting community#shifting stories#desired reality#shifting advice#shifting attempt#shifting affirmations#shifting methods#shifting tips#shifting consciousness#shifting reality#reality shifting community
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Are there any tropes or lessons you like to see used on the five man band.
I.E.: the lancer needs to learn the power of friendship or the heart needing to learn self care
Oh man. So many. Just off the top of my head-
The Leader is out of commission and The Lancer gets their wish of being in charge! Oh god why is everything so difficult this is like herding cats how does The Leader stand it
The Smart Guy has friends now, so it's easy to forget that before The Band they were isolated and awkward and overall very alone. Let's unpack that!
Oh nooooo The Lancer was overconfident and got their ass beat by bad guys and now they need to get rescuuuuuued nooooooo what if they learn a lesson about truuuuuust
The Heart supports the team without complaint⊠but what happens when they need support? (hugs. hugs happen)
Has The Lancer⊠betrayed us?? (maybe a little, as a treat, but not for long so relax)
Everyone else is out of commission! It's up to The Smart Guy to sneakily save the day!
The villain of the week made someone in the group experience Deep Emotional Issues and now The Heart is going to straight-up murder them if nobody stops them
hey bad news they brainwashed the chillest friendliest member of the gang and now we have to do an absolutely terrifying fight scene about it
Everyone on the team is relying on one member's unique skill to save them all while the rest of them buy time, and the only person who isn't sure they can do it is the person doing it
One of them is cornered, but wins using a skill they picked up from a teammate (and possibly complains about it nonstop)
Everyone is being independently interrogated about something they all did and every single one of them is either stonewalling or lying outrageously
Okay one of the team is out of commission let's try REALLY HARD to take care of them and handle any problems WITHOUT BOTHERING THEM I'm sure this won't result in a comedy of errors
Everyone gets knocked flat in a one-shot move but how cool is it when the powerhouse is the only one who manages to get back up
Okay you guys go handle the main villain I'll stay here by myself and hold off the entire army of minions no sweat
Oh hey, turns out this Heart character we've been underestimating isn't weak or underpowered, they're just usually much too nice to kick anyone's ass half as hard as they deserve. congrats on finally finding their breaking point tho
One of the characters is feeling useless, sure hope they don't push themself to deeply self-destructive extremes to compensate
Somehow The Leader has been temporarily compromised to the side of Evil I sure hope The Lancer doesn't take it upon themself to solve this the only way they know how (running off on their own and getting their shit rocked)
Local Lancer Unfortunately Concludes They Are Undyingly Loyal To These Idiots
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How do you think Wolf(AvP requiem) would react to a fem reader teasing him under the table during a meeting? Leads to smut if you donât mind. Feel free to ignore and make sure to take care of yourself!
An Interruption
Character: Wolf (Male Yautja) x GN!Reader
Word Count: 2294
Summary: On Yautja Prime, Wolf resides as the elder he is. He's done his fair share of fighting and passes on the knowledge to the younger generations. Meetings are called with him included. Wherever he goes, he brings along his mate. You. Many, many dislike your existence for just being human. With Wolf at your side, you don't care what they think. During said meeting, you are perched in his lap, snuggling against Wolf while they discuss. Until your hands get a bit... handsy.
Author Note: I realize I didn't fully go with your idea because I'm stupid and can't read apparently. I did get the concept though! I got fifty percent. Also, me? Take care of myself? Phhhh, nah. I write.
Masterlist
Ao3
The many of them despised humans as whole. You could clearly see that plain as day in their eyes every time you joined Wolf out in public. No matter how hard they tried to hide it to prevent themselves from gaining the wrath of Wolf. He wasnât afraid to terrorize anyone who opposed your existence. Heâs done it plenty of times before. Some scars that adorn his body are from that alone.
This time is no different.
Wolf guides you into the vast meeting room. One youâve seen many times before over the years. Many of the faces in here were no different than before. Yet, even the new ones knew to hide their disgust by casting it to the ground. You strode in front of Wolf with your head held high, uncaring about anyone looking at them. With Wolf at your back, no one wouldnât confront on your overconfidence.
The chairs were large to fit any sized Yautja. Wolf took his seat. You sat down on his thick thigh while having your body slightly turned towards him. His beautiful face was on display under the light. You reached out and placed your finger under his chin. The Yautjaâs eyes snapped to your face and softened from their original hardened look.
âHow long is this going to take?â you complained with your bottom lip pushed out. Your other hand palmed at his stomach. His muscles tensed at the touch, mandibles jerking. He narrowed his gaze but did nothing to move your hand.
âAs long as it takes,â he rumbled back his answer. Your shoulders dramatically sagged at his words. Then, you dragged your nails down his abs. God, he was built like a brick shithouse. It made you hunger for him all the time. Maybe your libido was out of control. But, you blamed Wolf for it. It was his fault for looking like the way he does.
âBut, Wolfie! I have plans later on. I would love for those not to be⊠delayed,â you argued back. The pads of your fingers reached his belt that you could take off one handed.
Thatâs when he moved. His hand snatched your wrist but didnât pull it away. It was like he fighting with himself. Wolf wasnât scared about his peers knowing that he fucks a ooman. Actually, he seems proud about it. The way he shows you off all the time. Itâs clear he wants to get it through everyoneâs head you are here to stay.
You leaned in close to the side of his head. âI need something to squeeze, Wolfie. I need a fidget toy to keep me entertained if you want me to stay still.â He knows youâre not afraid to⊠rub yourself against him.
His bright eyes darkened, filling with need. The exact type of need was lost to you. Wolf flexed the muscles in his hand while gripping your wrist. You could hear the faintest of growls that vibrated your skin.
âDonât be mean,â you pouted while giving him the puppy dog eyes. âIâll just keep moving around, distracting you the entire time.â Not that what you were referring to before this was any different. You were hoping it distracted him. You wanted to be back in the safety of your home with Wolf pounding into you from behind.
Your threat was real. Wolf knew this. His muscles tensed once again before letting go of your hand. The grin on your face couldnât be smacked off.
Someone along the group of Yautjas cleared their throat to gain your attentions. You calmly looked over the beige Yautja. Wolf hooked an arm around your waist and pulled you flush to his side. âBe good,â he whispered harshly into your ear. His arm loosened up its intensity, just a reminder he was right there. Not that you could ever forget about the love of your life.
Despite your former threats to do this publicly in front of the entire meeting room, you let the hand closest to him rub up and down his abs. He did his best not to flex them under each pass.
The meeting began. But, you were in your own world.
You turned further into him and nuzzled your face under his jaw. The arm around you moved to pet up and down your back. His claws ran against your back, not breaking skin or tearing up your clothing. It was a reminder to who and what he was. You press your nails harder against his stomach in reaction. He bit back a growl.
Soft kisses were pressed to the underside of his jaw. You couldnât help but to suck a his thinner scales, trying to add a mark of your own to him. The hand teasing him dipped down to the waistband of his pants. A nail tapped against the metal belt buckle he was adorned with. Wolfâs hip twitched with the smallest jerks up. Only you noticed.
Said hand simply unclipped the metal buckle. It popped open and allowed you easier access. You let your fingers dip below his waist band and seek out the wet spot already growing.
The moment your fingers found it, his arms encircled around your waist again. Wolf didnât press you against him this time. You continued with your exploration of his body you knew better than he did. Your digits toyed with the closed yet wet sheath of his.
A mandible slightly twitched. The only thing that gave away what he was feeling. You glided your middle finger down his slit and barely pushed against the muscles. With your other hand, it ran a random path along his side.
At the second press, the tip of Wolfâs pointed cock head interrupted the smooth glide. Your thumb found the head and played with part of the slit you could feel. More of it uncontrollably pushed into your hand. The feel of it wasnât anything human like. It was differently shaped compared to a manâs. In all the best way. It was designed to bring pleasure amidst mating with the ridges and bumps that hit all of your sensitive places. Even ones you didnât know existed. He made sure he found them. Every. Single. Time.
Though, Wolf liked to play it off like he was ruthless badass that killed everything without breaking sweat. When it came to you though? That soft side comes out.
If you asked him to burn down the universe, Wolf would do it without any questions.
You continued to tease what little he offered to you. A couple of drops of precum stuck to your skin. You used it to rub it along his sheath, hitting a spot that involuntarily pushed out more of his cock.
Only half of it was in your hold, but that was enough. For now. Your wet hand wrapped around the bit you could reach. It nearly fitted entirely in your grip. About a quarter of the head poked out from the top. But, you didnât care. All you needed was your fidget toy. Now you had it. No one could wipe off the grin on your face tucked into the crook of Wolfâs neck.
They went on about something concerning training of the younglings. Everything flew right over your head. None of it was needed.
A strong, firm squeeze had Wolfâs thighs tensing underneath you. The enjoyment you received from this was amazing. The way it filled your veins. A knowledge that only you could do this to the great Wolf. No one would dare say a thing if they heard, saw, or even smelt his growing arousal. Or even yours. God, if they mentioned yours, their face would be on the nearest wall or floor.
More precum joined the first round. You used it to lubricate the small jerking motions you made up and down half of his shaft. His arm around you splayed his fingers along the top of your thighs underneath the table. A shudder ran through your body at the possessive touch. You were his as much as he was yours.
âA new training course needs to be written up for the next class,â a random Yautja off to your left spoke up. âWhatâs being taught doesnât offer the younglings the skills they need to survive.â You peeked out of the corner of your eye secretly at the speaker.
Someone else across the table grunted and placed a hand down on the rock tabletop. âI agree. Weâve had a record high of deaths this last year during blooding. Some not even surviving six full rotations after that.â He was leaned in his chair with an ease stature. His dark eyes met yours. For a second, something flashed in them before they darted around the table. You narrowed your own gaze on him and nipped harder at Wolfâs skin.
Your mate.
This time, you bite down hard enough to leave behind teeth marks. Wolf stays still like a statue and watches the ground closely. You continued to run your free hand up and down his side, feeling the contour of his muscles underneath thick scales.
His build made you drool every time you see it. The times you get to touch and feel him up, you will take in an instant. Just a reminder that he is yours.
The throbbing length in your hand had you squeezing the tip. Your thumb ran over the top of tip and slightly pushing down on the exposed hole there. Wolfâs claws twitched against your thigh. Almost. You pulled the limb away from his shaft and brought that thumb to your tongue. Sweat but salty flavors met your tastebuds. You inwardly groaned while closing your eyes to savor the taste that made him up.
Wolfâs hand moved to slide underneath your shirt and palmed at your stomach. It felt the ridges of the scars youâve either earned or received from him in different ways. Hunts or⊠being hunted. You arched your back to push against him, trying to pin the limb between the two of you. But, he pulls you back enough with the threat of his claws. A low whine builds in the back of your throat, just loud enough for the Yautja next to you to glance over.
When the two of you made eye contact, he instantly looked away to focus on the projection in front of him. You growled yourself then sucked and kissed your way to his pecs. Each mark you gave him received a kiss in return.
You slipped back down into his shorts and noticed more of his shaft had slipped free. Nearly the entire length had been unsheathed. Only the growing knot stayed hidden. One finger was pushed into the open sheath and toyed with the bulge you found. Wolf tensed underneath you, mandibles locked into place. A near distant look washed over his eyes before he refocused on the meeting.
So close.
âThis is a course we should implement from this moment on.â They continued to drone on about training and whatnot. All you wanted was for them to finish it now so you could have some alone time with Wolf. He couldnât blame you for being needy when he created the problem. He spoiled you far too much. There was no going back now.
âIâve read it. Page fiveâŠâ you ignored the rest of what they went on about. They were interrupting your time with Wolf. You gripped the lower part of his shaft and slowly started to stroke him. â-some different verbiage needs to be added.â
The last of him was pushed out into your awaiting hand. Each time you went down to his knot, you gave it a squeeze. Secretly with your other hand, it joined the other in the confinement of his pants. It grabbed filed in after your first hand and added more friction.
Wolfâs claws dug into the armrest of his chair. His arm tugged you tightly against his body. He slightly tuck his head towards you and gave a deep, vibrating growl that shook you to your core. You had to bite back a whine and quickened your movements to point your muscles burned. But, you didnât care. You wanted to make him come in his pants.
Because when he takes you back home, heâll ensure the next load goes directly into you.
Once you reached a black tendril, you pressed your lips to it and sucked lightly. Something deep within him changed. It could felt in the air.
It took every once of his power now to bend you over the table and fuck you in the middle of the meeting. The Yautja was beginning to struggle with composer. His musk was evident and thick in the air. No one could ignore it. Not even the person across from the two of him.
His abs clenched against your side. Both hands tightened firmly this around him while maintaining the same speed. Wolfâs breathing quickened. You pushed through the strain in your muscles.
A gush of cum coated your hands. His entire cock throbbed hard in your grasp, pulsing with each new spurt of seed. It was silent when it hit him. But, you could read it like an open book the moment it happened. Both hands went directly to his knot and squeezed, mimicking if he was inside of you. Wolf had to close off his throat before a possessive, needy snarl could announce his wants to the room.
He relaxed against the back of his chair, breathing a little hard. His eyes were hooded over. Then, he looked down at you. Nothing was needing to be said. You knew you were in for it when you got back home.
Being a spoiled brat was the best!
#yautja#predator#yautja x reader#yautja x you#alien vs predator#predator x reader#yautja x human#predator x you#predator x human#x reader#Wolf
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