#just some casual jealous!victor

[pandapetals]

Sanctuary - Part Two

Logan and Wade are sent by Stryker to find a journalist who has been digging around trying to expose Team X. Logan isn't prepared when he meets an intriguing neighbor causing him to question himself and the mission.

origins logan howlett x fem!reader - team x mission, shy reader, no y/n, she/her pronouns used instead of you, logan's pov, origins wade, awkwardness, guarded feelings, angst, AU, crushes, logan kinda being a stalker, stryker and victor cameos, fighting, cussing, wade being a good friend, reserved logan

apparently this is too long to post in one go so here's part one and here's part two

word count: 40k

Logan knew he shouldn’t be jealous, but he couldn’t help it. Jared had started working his way into her life, filling the spaces Logan had been dancing around for weeks. Jared was walking her home after her shifts, casually showing up at the bar to chat with her, and Logan was pretty sure he’d seen him drop flowers off once. Every time he looked, Jared seemed to be there—closing in, leaving little room for Logan.

Wade, of course, was delighted by this turn of events and took every opportunity to dig the knife a little deeper.

"Guess the infamous Jared is busy tonight,” Wade quipped, glancing over to where she was wiping down glasses behind the bar, focused and oblivious to their presence. “Better get your ass over there, lover boy, before he shows up and sweeps her off her feet again.”

Logan shot him a glare, his jaw clenched tight. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, but his eyes drifted back to her. She looked calm, and relaxed, humming to herself as she went about her work. The sight only made his chest ache more.

“Oh, come on,” Wade snickered, taking a sip of his beer. “Just admit it—you’re jealous.”

Logan didn’t respond, but his fists tightened on the table. He hated that Wade was right. The jealousy gnawed at him, a constant, dull ache that made him restless and irritable. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was losing her, and he hated that he wasn’t even sure he’d ever had her to begin with.

Before he could second-guess himself, Logan stood up, ignoring Wade’s raised eyebrow as he crossed the bar. She looked up as he approached, a small smile flickering across her lips.

“Hey, Logan,” she greeted him, her tone warm but casual like they were old friends—just friends.

Logan nodded, trying to keep his tone light. “Hey. Just… wanted to check in on you.” He hesitated, then added, “I saw Jared hasn’t been around tonight.”

She shrugged her smile not quite reaching her eyes. “Guess he’s busy,” she said lightly, going back to drying the glass in her hands. She didn’t offer anymore, clearly brushing it off, but Logan couldn’t let it go.

“Do you… do you actually like the guy?” he asked, the words tumbling out before he could stop himself.

She paused, glancing up at him with a mixture of surprise and annoyance. “Why do you ask?”

Logan shifted, feeling foolish but unable to drop it. “Just… curious. Seems like he’s been around a lot lately. Walking you home, stopping by during your shifts…”

She let out a sigh, setting the glass down with a bit more force than necessary. “Logan, what’s it to you?” she asked, a touch of frustration slipping into her voice. “I mean, I don’t ask about the women in your life.”

The remark stung, and Logan took a breath, struggling to keep his frustration in check. “I just don’t think he’s good enough for you,” he said, his voice coming out rougher than he’d intended.

She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. “Not good enough? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Logan opened his mouth, then closed it, unsure how to explain the knot of jealousy and protectiveness he felt without sounding… ridiculous. “I just don’t like the way he acts around you. Like he’s… entitled to your time.”

Her eyes narrowed, a flicker of irritation in her gaze. “Logan, he’s just a friend. If he wants to walk me home or drop by the bar, that’s his choice. It’s not… some grand conspiracy.”

Logan ran a hand through his hair, growing increasingly frustrated. “Yeah, well, he’s not doing it just to be nice.”

She looked at him, her expression unreadable, then let out a soft, exasperated sigh. “Why do you even care so much? I don’t get it.” She paused, searching his face with a look of confusion. “Why are you acting like this? You’ve always been… protective, but this is different. I don’t understand.”

Logan felt his heart sink, a cold realization settling over him. She didn’t see it. She didn’t see him the way he saw her—didn’t even consider the possibility that he might want to be more than just a friend. Or maybe she just… couldn’t imagine it. Couldn’t imagine him as someone she could be with.

“Why am I acting like this?” he echoed, his voice low, bitter. He forced himself to meet her gaze, searching her eyes for any glimmer of understanding, but her expression was still clouded with confusion. “You really don’t know?”

She blinked, her brow furrowing, then let out a soft, disbelieving laugh. “Logan, I…thought you were…you’re my friend. I mean, that’s what you’ve been, right? I don’t—” She broke off, biting her lip as if she didn’t know how to finish the thought.

Logan felt his chest tighten. There it was, plain as day. He’d been standing here, trying to protect her, trying to be someone she could rely on, someone she’d choose. But she couldn’t even see him like that. He was just Logan—the guy who watched out for her, the guy she talked to when she needed someone to listen. Nothing more.

“Right,” he said, his voice rough, barely masking the bitterness that threatened to spill over. “Just your friend.”

Something in his tone must have reached her, because she looked up, her eyes softening, almost as if she were seeing him clearly for the first time. “Logan…” she said her voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t… I didn’t realize.”

He shook his head, letting out a hollow laugh. “Yeah, well, that’s kind of the problem, isn’t it?”

Her eyes searched his face, a flicker of something close to regret passing over her expression. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but closed it again, her shoulders slumping. “I didn’t mean to… hurt your feelings,” she murmured. “I just didn’t know. I thought—”

Logan took a step back, feeling the weight of her words settle over him like a stone. “It’s fine,” he said, forcing himself to keep his voice steady. “Forget I said anything.”

He turned, feeling her eyes on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to look back. He didn’t want to see the pity in her gaze, the confusion, or worse—the faint flicker of understanding that came too late. He walked away, his chest tight. It was too late for that now. She’d seen him as a friend from the start, and no amount of jealous glances or awkward conversations was going to change that.

Logan pushed through the bar doors, letting the cool night air hit him like a slap. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm raging inside him, the mix of frustration and hurt that he couldn’t quite shake. He’d thought he could handle her not seeing him that way, but hearing her say it out loud—just my friend—had cut deeper than he’d expected.

He barely made it a few steps when he heard her voice behind him.

“Logan, wait.”

He stopped, surprised, turning slowly. He hadn’t expected her to follow. She stood there in the doorway, her face lit by the neon bar sign, eyes wide and uncertain like she was still trying to make sense of what had just happened. She took a tentative step forward, wrapping her arms around herself, the vulnerability in her posture catching him off guard.

“Why did you…?” she began, then hesitated, struggling to find the right words. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Logan let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Say what? That I see you as more than just a friend? That every time I saw you with that guy, it felt like I was watching you slip away?” He shook his head, his voice rough. “I tried, but… you just didn’t see it.”

She bit her lip, looking down, her cheeks flushed. “I didn’t see it because… why would I?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, and he had to lean in to catch the words. “I mean, look at you. You’re… you’re handsome. You could have anyone. And I’m just… me.” She let out a shaky laugh, her gaze dropping to the ground. “I’m quiet. I’m… awkward. I was rude to you half the time, and the other half I was too shy to even look you in the eye.”

Logan felt his chest tighten as he took in her words. He stepped closer, his voice gentle, almost pleading. “Don’t you see? That’s exactly why.”

She looked up, her eyes meeting his, confusion etched in her face.

“Look,” he continued, struggling to put into words everything he’d been feeling. “You’re real. You’re not trying to be anyone else, not putting on a show. You’re just… you. And yeah, you’re quiet, and maybe a little guarded, but that’s not a bad thing. It’s honest. You don’t let people in easily, and for some reason, that made me want to break through even more.”

She stared at him, her eyes beginning to shimmer with unshed tears. He could see her struggling to hold them back, her fingers twisting anxiously at her sides.

“And when you let your guard down,” Logan continued, his voice softer now, “even for just a second… I see this side of you that’s so… warm. You’re thoughtful. Kind. Stronger than you give yourself credit for.” He took a breath, gathering the courage to say the rest. “You make me want to be better, just by being yourself.”

She blinked, her face crumpling slightly as a tear slipped down her cheek. She brushed it away quickly, as if embarrassed, but more tears followed, spilling over in silent streams.

“I… I didn’t know,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I didn’t think anyone… saw me like that.”

He took another step forward, closing the last bit of distance between them, his gaze fixed on her face. “I see you,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “And not just the version of you from tonight, or the one from work. All of you.”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment she looked away as if trying to collect herself. Then, with a shaky exhale, she looked back at him, her gaze softer, more open than he’d ever seen it.

“Logan…” Her voice broke, and she let out a short, almost disbelieving laugh, a mix of relief and release. She shook her head, wiping at her cheeks with the back of her hand, but the tears kept coming. “I didn’t… I never thought…”

Before she could finish, Logan reached out, pulling her into his arms. She didn’t resist, her body melting into his as she let herself be held, her arms slipping around his waist. He felt her relax against him, her head resting against his chest, her shoulders shaking as she allowed herself to cry freely.

Logan tightened his hold, one hand gently cradling the back of her head, the other wrapped securely around her back. He felt her tears soak into his shirt, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was the warmth of her in his arms, the way she fit against him, like she’d belonged there all along.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble against her ear. “You don’t have to say anything. Just… let it out.”

She nodded against his chest, her fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt as she cried. It wasn’t a sad cry—it was something deeper like she was finally letting go of something she’d held inside for too long. Logan stood there, holding her, letting her know with his presence that she didn’t have to be alone in it anymore.

After a while, her tears slowed, her breathing evening out as she relaxed in his arms. She pulled back slightly, looking up at him, her eyes still wet but filled with quiet gratitude, a kind of wonder that took his breath away.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice raw but steady. “For… seeing me. I don’t know how to explain it, but… no one’s ever really done that before.”

Logan’s gaze softened, and he brushed a stray tear from her cheek with his thumb. “You don’t have to explain it,” he said gently. 

They stood there, close enough to feel each other’s breath, a fragile understanding settling between them. She didn’t look away, her gaze steady and unguarded, and for the first time, he felt like he was truly seeing her—no walls, no defenses, just her.

“Logan…” she murmured, her voice trailing off as if the weight of the moment had stolen her words. Her eyes searched his face, hesitant yet drawn in, and after a heartbeat, she lifted her hand, her fingers brushing softly against his cheek. The touch was tentative but unshakably real, grounding him, rooting him in the quiet intimacy between them.

Logan’s breath caught, and he leaned into her touch, his eyes never leaving hers. Her fingertips were warm against his skin, tracing over the rough edges of his jaw, gentle but sure, like she was memorizing him. His heart hammered in his chest, each beat loud and insistent as if to remind him that this—she—was real.

“I see you too,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, but he felt the words settle over him, softening something in him he hadn’t realized was so tightly wound. “I see all of you.”

Logan nodded, his voice thick. “I know, sweetheart.”

Her lips parted slightly, her gaze flicking down as her hand trailed lower, her fingers grazing his cheekbone, then drifting to trace the outline of his bottom lip. His breath hitched, his skin electrified under her touch, and he found himself leaning closer, drawn in like a magnet. Her fingers lingered at the edge of his mouth, her touch featherlight, and for a moment he was utterly still, letting her explore this unguarded part of him.

A soft laugh escaped her, a quiet, wondrous sound as if seeing him this vulnerable under her touch was something she hadn’t quite expected. Her thumb brushed over his lip, and he felt the faintest tremble in her hand like she was as caught up in this as he was.

“Logan… I didn’t know…” she murmured, her voice trailing off, her eyes full of something like wonder. “I didn’t know you could be… like this.”

“Like what?” he asked, his voice a low rasp, barely able to keep his focus as her fingers traced along his jaw.

“Soft,” she whispered, her eyes meeting his with a quiet, almost fragile honesty. “You’re always so… strong. Untouchable. But right now…” She trailed off, her cheeks flushing, and he could see the vulnerability in her expression, the way she was opening up to him, bit by bit.

“Not with you,” he replied softly, his voice like a promise. “Never with you.”

He lifted his hand, covering hers against his cheek, pressing it gently, letting her know without words that he wanted her there—that he was letting her see this part of him because it was her. She wasn’t just any woman to him; she was the woman, the one who had slipped under his skin in ways he couldn’t explain.

Slowly, she moved closer, her breath mingling with his, her gaze flickering between his eyes and his lips like she was still wrapping her head around the idea that he could be hers, that he was this vulnerable for her alone.

“I…” she murmured, her voice barely more than a breath as she leaned in, her lips brushing softly against his jaw. Her fingers still rested against his cheek, her touch featherlight, hesitant.

Logan’s heart pounded, every instinct urging him to close the distance, to kiss her and pull her into his arms. But he held back, waiting, sensing there was something she needed to say.

“Tell me what you’re thinking, darlin’,” he whispered, his voice a rough murmur. He kept his gaze steady, trying not to let his need show too much. He wanted her—God, he needed her—but he knew better than to rush this.

She closed her eyes, a soft sigh escaping her as she leaned her forehead against his, her breath warm against his skin. “I want…” she started, her voice catching. She let out a shaky breath, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, her eyes searching his. “I want you to hold me.”

Her words were quiet, almost shy, and he felt something shift in his chest, a tenderness he hadn’t known he could feel. She looked down, almost apologetic, her cheeks flushed as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m… sorry if that’s not what you wanted,” she whispered, her voice barely holding steady. “I just… I’m not ready for more.”

Logan’s expression softened, and he gently lifted her chin, meeting her eyes with a look of understanding. “Hey,” he murmured, his voice steady and warm. “You don’t have to apologize. I can wait.”

She blinked, her eyes filling with gratitude, a quiet vulnerability that made his heartache. “Really?” she asked, her voice a fragile whisper.

He smiled softly, brushing his thumb along her cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin under his touch. “Really,” he replied, his tone gentle but sure. “As long as it takes. Just… let me be here with you.”

She let out a shaky breath, and he could feel the tension ease from her shoulders as she leaned into him, resting her head against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, feeling the steady rhythm of her breathing, the warmth of her body pressed against his.

They stood like that in the quiet, her cheek pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped securely around her. He could feel her relax in his embrace, letting go of the hesitation, the fear as if she’d finally found a place she could just… be.

“Thank you, Logan,” she whispered against his shirt, her voice muffled but filled with emotion. “For… for understanding.”

He held her a little tighter, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head, a promise in the gentle touch. “Always,” he murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

It was late, and the apartment was quiet, save for the faint hum of the fridge and the occasional creak of floorboards settling. Logan had just settled on the couch, nursing a beer and trying to ignore Wade’s relentless teasing, when there was a soft knock at the door.

Logan’s brow furrowed. It was nearly midnight, and he wasn’t expecting anyone. He stood up, crossing the small space and opening the door—only to find her standing there, arms wrapped around herself, eyes wide and uncertain.

For a second, they just stared at each other, and he could see the faint blush rising to her cheeks, the way she looked away, biting her lip as if second-guessing why she’d even come.

“Hey,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “Sorry, it’s… so late.”

Logan’s expression softened, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “No problem,” he said, leaning against the doorframe. “Everything okay?”

She nodded, but he could tell she was nervous—more nervous than usual, even. Her gaze darted from his face to the floor, her fingers twisting in the hem of her sweater as she shifted from one foot to the other. “I, um… I just…” She took a breath, her eyes flicking up to meet his. “I was wondering if… maybe you could come over? Just for a bit?”

Logan’s smile grew, and he nodded, his voice gentle. “Of course. Let me grab my jacket.”

He glanced over his shoulder at Wade, who was watching the scene unfold with a smirk, one eyebrow raised in amusement. “Finally got the girl to come to you, huh?” Wade drawled, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. “About damn time.”

Logan rolled his eyes, grabbing his jacket off the back of the chair. “Yeah, well, took me long enough,” he muttered.

Wade gasped, pressing a hand to his chest in mock shock. “Is the big tough guy over here admitting I was right?”

“Don’t get used to it,” Logan grumbled, but there was a flicker of humor in his eyes as he closed the door behind him, leaving Wade’s laughter echoing down the hall.

When they reached her apartment, she opened the door and led him inside, glancing back at him nervously as if checking to make sure he hadn’t changed his mind. Her place was warm and inviting, the faint scent of vanilla in the air, and he could see a blanket draped over the back of her couch, and a book lying open on the coffee table. It felt like stepping into another world—a quiet sanctuary that was all hers.

She hesitated, looking back at him with a shy smile. “Sorry if this is… weird. I just… I didn’t feel like being alone tonight.”

Logan shook his head, his expression gentle. “Not weird at all,” he assured her. “I’m glad you asked.”

They settled onto the couch, her curled up at one end with a blanket wrapped around her, and Logan at the other, trying to ignore the subtle ache in his chest that urged him to reach out, to pull her close. Instead, he let her take the lead, watching as she relaxed, her guard slowly lowering in the quiet warmth of her apartment.

After a few minutes, she glanced over at him, her face softening. “You know, I don’t let a lot of people in here. It’s kind of… my space. Where I go when I need to recharge.”

Logan nodded, understanding more than she probably realized. “I figured,” he murmured. “Need a little peace and quiet to get your energy back.”

She laughed softly, tucking her legs up under herself. “Exactly. Sometimes I think people don’t get that. They think I’m being rude or closed off, but it’s not… It’s just how I am.”

Logan smiled, leaning back against the couch, feeling more comfortable here than he had in a long time. “Trust me, I know the feeling. People have been making assumptions about me my whole life.” He looked down, a wry smile tugging at his lips.

She seemed to absorb his words, her expression softening, and for a moment, they just looked at each other, the quiet of the room settling over them like a warm blanket. Finally, she shifted a little closer, her fingers playing with the edge of the blanket as if gathering the courage to say something.

“Could you… would you mind just holding me?” she asked softly, almost shyly. “I know it’s silly, but…”

“It’s not silly,” he interrupted gently, already reaching out to pull her closer. She settled against him, her head resting on his shoulder, her body fitting perfectly against his side. He wrapped his arm around her, holding her securely, feeling the soft warmth of her breath against his neck.

They sat like that in comfortable silence, her fingers tracing small, absent patterns on his arm, and he felt a sense of peace he hadn’t known he was missing. After a while, he noticed her glancing at the book on the coffee table, the corners of her mouth lifting in a small, embarrassed smile.

“What’s that?” he asked, nodding toward the book.

She chuckled, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “It’s… just an old favorite,” she said, her fingers brushing over the cover as if the book itself were a comfort. “I’ve read it a hundred times, but I keep coming back to it. I guess it’s like… a safe place, you know?”

Logan reached over, picking up the book, letting the pages fall open naturally to a passage she’d read often. His eyes skimmed the words, noticing they were carefully underlined in places, with faint notes scrawled in the margins. Some of the words jumped out at him—truth, deception, uncover. The kind of words that carried a weight he couldn’t quite place.

“You make notes in it?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, his thumb tracing over one of the handwritten lines in the margin.

She hesitated, her fingers nervously twisting on the edge of the blanket. “Yeah,” she admitted, her voice soft. “I… I tend to analyze things. Sometimes I think too much, but…” She shrugged, glancing up at him with a shy smile. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed slightly as he flipped through a few more pages, noticing more annotations, small questions scribbled in her neat handwriting: What’s being hidden here? What’s the real story? It wasn’t the kind of casual note-taking he’d expect from someone reading for comfort. It felt… meticulous. Intentional.

“You really dig into things, huh?” he asked his tone light but laced with curiosity.

She let out a small, nervous laugh, looking down as she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I guess so. I like… knowing things. Figuring out what’s beneath the surface. Sometimes I think it’s the only way I can make sense of the world.”

Logan’s smile faded slightly, an odd sense of familiarity tugging at him. Her words echoed something he’d heard Stryker say about the journalist they were after—a person who couldn’t leave things alone, who kept digging and prodding, pulling threads no one else had noticed until the whole web of secrets started to unravel. He dismissed the thought as quickly as it came. No, he thought. That’s ridiculous.

Still, he couldn’t shake a strange feeling, a quiet tension building in the back of his mind. He watched her as she curled up against him, her face soft and relaxed, so different from the hardened profile of a tenacious journalist. And yet…

“So,” he said slowly, turning the conversation a bit, “you said you’ve been working at the bar for… how long now?”

She looked up, blinking as if she hadn’t expected the question. “A few months,” she replied, her voice casual. “Needed a change of pace. City life, you know?”

He nodded, but something about her answer felt practiced. “What did you do before that?”

Her smile wavered, and she glanced away, tugging the blanket a little tighter around herself. “I, um… I did some freelance work. Writing, mostly. Articles, essays, that sort of thing.”

Logan felt his chest tighten, the pieces shifting uncomfortably into place. Freelance writing. It could mean anything… or it could mean everything. He forced himself to keep his expression neutral, unwilling to let his suspicions show.

“Writing, huh?” he said, his voice carefully steady. “You must have a knack for it if you’re making a living off it.”

She shrugged, looking down at her hands, her voice softening. “I like to dig into things. Tell stories that don’t get told. Sometimes people don’t appreciate that.” She glanced up at him, a small, frown tugging at her lips. “Guess I’ve made a few enemies along the way.”

Logan’s stomach twisted, his mind racing. He’d been chasing this journalist for weeks, tracking down scraps of information, hearing bits and pieces about someone who wouldn’t quit, who kept pushing no matter the consequences. And here she was, right in front of him, leaning against him with that soft, trusting smile. He felt a pang of guilt mixed with something he couldn’t quite name—something like dread, or realization.

“Guess you don’t mind getting into trouble, huh?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light, almost teasing.

She laughed, a soft, self-deprecating sound. “I try not to, but… I don’t know. I just can’t let things go when I feel like there’s more to the story.” She looked up at him, her gaze holding his with a quiet intensity. “You get that, don’t you?”

He nodded, throat suddenly tight. “Yeah,” he murmured, his voice low. “I get that.”

They fell into silence, and she nestled against him, resting her head on his shoulder, unaware of the storm swirling in his mind. Logan tightened his arm around her, holding her close, feeling the weight of her trust in the way she settled against him. He wanted to shake off his suspicions, to tell himself he was reading too much into things. But the more he thought about it, the more the pieces clicked into place.

He looked down at her, his gaze softening despite his racing thoughts. He could feel the warmth of her, her breath steady against his chest, her body relaxed and trusting in his arms. She was right here, with him, no walls, no defenses.

Maybe she was the person he’d been looking for all along. 

She had fallen asleep against him, her head nestled on his shoulder, her breathing soft and steady. Logan’s arm was still wrapped around her, but his mind was far from the peaceful quiet of the moment. His thoughts churned, circling back to everything Stryker had told him—and more importantly, everything Stryker hadn’t told him.

For weeks, they’d been tracking down whispers about a journalist who was digging too deep, getting too close to things they had no business knowing. Stryker had been vague about the details, only dropping hints about classified information being exposed, and names being uncovered. Hell, now that Logan thought about it, he realized Stryker hadn’t even specified if their target was a man or a woman. They’d just assumed.

A cold knot of dread formed in his stomach. Could it be her? he wondered, glancing down at her peaceful face, so trusting, so vulnerable in sleep. She’d let him into her world tonight, let him see the quiet, guarded person behind her walls. He’d felt closer to her than he had to anyone in years. But now… now he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d been blind, missing clues that were right in front of him.

Silently, he cursed, gently easing her off him and onto the couch. She murmured something in her sleep, shifting slightly, but didn’t wake, sinking deeper into the cushions. Logan took a steadying breath, watching her for a moment, his heart aching with the conflict tearing him apart. What am I doing? he asked himself. But he knew he had to see this through.

His eyes scanned the room, his gaze landing on a small desk tucked in the corner by the window. He moved quietly, the only sound in the room the soft hum of the heater as he made his way over. The desk was neat, but he noticed a few loose papers sticking out of one of the drawers as if she’d shoved them in hurriedly, almost like she’d meant to hide them.

He hesitated, glancing back at her sleeping form, guilt gnawing at him. Just leave it alone, a part of him whispered. You know she’d never forgive you. But the doubt was too strong, the questions too sharp, cutting through his resolve. Slowly, he pulled open the drawer, his fingers trembling slightly as he reached inside.

What he found stopped him cold.

Stacks of papers, notes scribbled in her handwriting, clippings from newspapers, and—his heart dropped—classified documents. Some were marked with the distinct insignia of military intelligence, others with the unmistakable logo of Team X. He sifted through them, his pulse racing as he took in the details. There were notes on most of the members of the team, pieces of their pasts pieced together like puzzle fragments. He found Stryker’s name circled in red ink, question marks, and hastily written notes scrawled next to it: Experimentation? Corruption? The truth?

The worst of it was a half-written document, clearly meant to be an exposé. She’d been planning to write everything down—publish everything. The paper was titled in bold at the top: The Hidden Faces of War: Secrets Behind Team X. And beneath the title, a line that made his blood run cold: “An unauthorized look into the men behind the missions, and the things they were never meant to remember.”

Logan’s stomach twisted, the betrayal sinking deep as he pieced it together. She knew about Team X. She’d known this entire time. All the while, she’d kept him close, drawn him in, let him think he was getting to know her, that he was helping her let her guard down. But maybe it had been the other way around. Maybe she’d been watching him, studying him.

No, he told himself, gripping the edge of the desk to steady himself. That’s not her. It can’t be. He thought of the way she’d looked at him tonight, the way she’d opened up, let him see her vulnerability. She wasn’t faking that… was she?

He closed his eyes, a wave of regret and anger washing over him. He wanted to believe her, to believe that she hadn’t known who he was, that she hadn’t been playing him. But the evidence was here, right in front of him. She’d been planning to expose them—him—for God knows how long.

A soft sound made him look up. She was stirring on the couch, shifting under the blanket, her brow furrowing as if she could feel the tension radiating off him even in sleep. He shut the drawer quietly, his hands still shaking, and turned away, trying to pull himself together before she woke.

It was too late. Her eyes fluttered open, a soft, sleepy smile on her face as she blinked at him in the dim light. “Logan?” she murmured, her voice thick with drowsiness. “What… what’re you doing over there?”

He forced a smile, his heart a mess of anger and sorrow as he looked at her, standing in her cozy apartment that had, just minutes ago, felt like home. Now it felt like a stranger’s room, filled with shadows and secrets. “Just… looking around,” he said, his voice coming out rougher than he’d intended.

She sat up, running a hand through her hair, the gentle smile fading as she noticed the tension in his expression. “Is everything okay?”

He stared at her, searching her face for any hint of deception, any sign that she was lying to him. But all he saw was concern, confusion, and that same vulnerability that had drawn him to her in the first place. And suddenly, he felt like he was the one who was breaking.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his voice a low whisper, barely containing the hurt beneath it.

Her face went pale, her eyes widening. “What… what are you talking about?”

“Team X,” he said, the words heavy, almost accusing. “The documents. The notes. I saw them.” He gestured vaguely toward the desk, unable to stop the edge in his tone. “You’ve known about us this whole time, haven’t you?”

She opened her mouth to respond, then closed it, her eyes dropping to the floor. “Logan, I…” She took a shaky breath, her hands twisting together. “I didn’t mean for you to find out like this. I was… I was going to tell you. Eventually.”

“Tell me?” he repeated, his voice a harsh whisper. “Tell me that you’re planning to expose everything? Stryker, Team X… me?”

She looked up, her eyes bright with unshed tears, her voice trembling. “It’s not like that,” she whispered. “I didn’t…wasn’t doing it to hurt you. I wanted… I wanted people to know the truth. About what Stryker was making you do, making all of you do.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, the betrayal sinking in, heavy and painful. “So that’s it? You’ve just been studying me this whole time? Waiting to get enough dirt to make a story out of it?”

“No!” She shook her head, her voice breaking. “Logan, I… I didn’t plan any of this. Meeting you, being with you… it wasn’t part of the story. That’s real. You have to believe me.”

Logan felt himself falter, his anger wavering as he looked into her eyes. They were wide and glassy, filled with a desperate sincerity that made his chest ache. “How am I supposed to believe you?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper. “You’ve been lying to me this whole time.”

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she wiped it away quickly, her voice raw, trembling. “I know… I know how it looks. But please, Logan, you have to understand—I never wanted to hurt you. Or anyone else.” Her voice cracked, and she looked down, clutching her hands together. “I gave up the story before you even came here. Some guy threatened me at work—when I was still working at the newspaper. Said I was poking around in places I didn’t belong.” She let out a shaky breath. “I got scared. Decided to quit and… and disappear.”

Logan closed his eyes, the ache in his chest tightening, almost unbearable. Part of him wanted to turn around, to walk away and never look back, to spare himself the mess of feelings clawing their way through him. But another part—the part that had been drawn to her since the beginning, the part that had found something like peace in her arms—couldn’t let go. Not yet.

He opened his eyes, studying her, searching for any hint of deception. “So you ran,” he said quietly, his voice edged with disbelief. “You just… left it all behind?”

She nodded, her gaze distant, as if caught in the memory. “I thought if I hid, maybe they’d forget about me. But I knew…” She took a deep breath, her shoulders slumping. “I knew someone would come eventually. I couldn’t outrun it forever. I knew that… that I knew too much, even if I never published the story.”

She paused, then slowly rose to her feet, taking a step closer to him, her eyes never leaving his. “So when you and Wade showed up… I thought maybe that was it. That you were here to… finish the job.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper, and Logan saw the flash of fear in her eyes, the quiet acceptance beneath it that shook him to his core. “I accepted that.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, a fresh wave of anger and confusion washing over him. “You thought we were here to kill you?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “And you… you just accepted it?”

She nodded, wrapping her arms around herself as if trying to hold herself together. “I didn’t have a choice,” she said, her voice trembling. “I couldn’t go to anyone. I couldn’t trust anyone. Not after the threats… after the people who went quiet when I tried to ask questions.” Her gaze dropped, and he could see her fighting to keep her composure. “But then you started hovering around me. I thought you knew right from the start and was just toying with me but then I got to know you. And I started hoping that maybe… maybe it didn’t have to end that way.”

Logan felt his anger dissolve, replaced by a deep, painful empathy he hadn’t expected. He could see it now, all of it—the fear she must have lived with, the constant worry that she’d made a mistake she couldn’t take back. She’d been alone, hiding, looking over her shoulder… and yet she’d let him in, despite all of it.

“But you still didn’t tell me,” he said, his voice quieter now, laced with hurt. “You let me get close to you, you let me… fall for you, and you didn’t think I deserved to know the truth?”

Her face crumpled, another tear slipping down her cheek. “I didn’t want you to hate me,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I thought… I thought if I told you, you’d leave. Or worse—that you’d confirm what I’d been afraid of. That you were here to… end things.”

He swallowed, struggling to keep his own emotions in check. “So you kept it hidden. Just like you’ve kept everything else.”

She took a step closer, reaching out tentatively, her hand hovering between them. “Logan, please,” she murmured, her eyes searching his, filled with raw, unguarded vulnerability. “I was scared. I’ve been scared this whole time. And then you came into my life, and for the first time… I didn’t feel alone.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I thought maybe I’d finally found someone I could trust.”

He looked down at her hand, so close yet hesitant, and he felt the weight of her words settle over him, tugging at something deep inside. She hadn’t just been hiding; she’d been surviving, barely holding on, and he could see the toll it had taken on her—the guardedness, the fear, the way she’d kept everyone at arm’s length.

Slowly, he reached out, closing the distance between them, his fingers brushing hers. Her hand was cold, trembling slightly, and he felt a surge of protectiveness rise in him, stronger than the hurt, stronger than the anger. He looked into her eyes, searching for any trace of deception, but all he saw was a woman standing on the edge, hoping someone would finally reach out and pull her back.

“You don’t have to be afraid anymore,” he said softly, his voice a quiet promise. “Not of me.”

Her breath hitched, and she let out a shaky laugh, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. “You don’t know how badly I wanted to hear that,” she whispered. She took another step closer, her hand slipping into his, her grip tentative but real. “I’m so sorry, Logan��� for everything. I didn’t mean for it to happen this way. I just… I didn’t know how to stop being afraid.”

He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly, feeling the way she melted against him, finally letting herself be vulnerable, finally allowing herself to trust. “It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice a soft rumble against her hair. “You don’t have to explain.”

She clung to him, her arms wrapped around his waist, her face pressed against his chest as if she were afraid to let go. He could feel her shaking, the quiet release of all the fear and tension she’d been holding for so long.

After a moment, she pulled back just enough to look up at him, her gaze filled with a fragile kind of hope. “Do you… do you think you could ever forgive me?”

Logan looked down at her, his thumb brushing away the last of her tears. “I already have,” he said quietly. “But I need you to be honest with me. No more secrets. No more hiding.”

She nodded a new determination settling in her eyes. “No more secrets,” she promised. “I’ll tell you everything. Whatever you want to know.”

He felt the weight of her words, the sincerity woven through every syllable. She was laying it all bare, trusting him with the truth she’d kept hidden for so long. But he knew this wouldn’t be easy—that there was still so much they’d have to face. Stryker wouldn’t let something like this go. Logan knew him too well; once Stryker had a target, he didn’t back off. And as much as he trusted Wade on a good day, there was a flicker of doubt nagging at him. Wade might be unpredictable, even reckless, but loyalty to Stryker ran deep. Logan wasn’t sure he’d want to risk involving him in this… not yet.

He looked down at her, taking in the way she leaned into him, her fingers trembling slightly as they entwined with his. She was strong, maybe stronger than he’d given her credit for, but there was a fragility to her now, a vulnerability she couldn’t quite hide. He wanted to protect her, to keep her safe from the mess he knew was waiting for them on the other side of this door.

“We’ll figure it out,” he murmured, his voice a low promise, rough but steady. “I’m not letting anything happen to you. I swear it.”

She nodded, her gaze steady on his, a glimmer of trust in her eyes mixed with the fear she couldn’t quite shake. Slowly, she leaned into him, pressing her forehead against his chest as if anchoring herself to him. Her fingers tightened around his, and he felt her take a shaky breath, steadying herself.

In the back of his mind, he knew the reality they’d soon have to face. Stryker wouldn’t back down, and the second he realized Logan was no longer his loyal soldier, he’d come after both of them with everything he had. Logan would have to be smart, and careful—because this wasn’t just his fight anymore. He was protecting her, and he’d go through hell before he let Stryker get his hands on her.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

Logan reluctantly left her apartment in the early morning light, the weight of everything pressing down on him. He hadn’t slept, his mind racing with thoughts of how to protect her, how to find a way out of this mess. It had been two months since he and Wade had first arrived in this city, sent by Stryker on what had felt like a routine assignment. But now, everything was different. He wasn’t just hunting down a journalist anymore. He was trying to protect her, and the stakes felt higher than they’d ever been.

He walked down the hall to his apartment, already tense as he thought about facing Wade. Wade wasn’t stupid; he’d been watching Logan grow more distracted, more distant. Sooner or later, Wade would start asking questions.

Logan opened the door, expecting to find Wade sprawled on the couch in his usual state of early-morning oblivion. But instead, he froze in the doorway, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene.

Wade was sitting upright, his expression oddly tight, watching as Stryker stood by the window, hands clasped behind his back. And next to Stryker, like some silent shadow, was Victor, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, a feral smile playing on his lips.

Logan’s stomach twisted. This wasn’t a casual check-in. Stryker and Victor didn’t just drop by without a reason. And the fact that they were here, together, sent a clear message: Stryker was losing patience.

“There he is. The big guy,” Wade said with a forced smile, his eyes flicking over to Logan. “Been wondering where you got off to.”

Logan shot him a hard look, cutting off any more commentary. “Been following a lead,” he said, his tone clipped, hoping Wade would understand the warning. “Another dead end.”

Stryker turned, his gaze sharp and assessing, a faint smirk on his face as if he could see right through Logan’s words. “Seems like you’ve been running into a lot of those lately, Logan,” he said, voice cold and controlled. “It’s almost as if you’re not taking this mission seriously.”

Logan clenched his jaw, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “You’re the one who sent us out here with nothing but scraps to go on,” he replied, his voice edged with frustration. “If you want results, maybe you should’ve given us more than vague orders and a damn ghost to chase.”

Stryker’s smirk widened, but his eyes were steel. “Funny. I thought I gave two of my best men an easy task. Thought you’d be able to handle a simple journalist.” He let the word linger, his gaze narrowing. “Maybe I was wrong.”

Beside him, Victor let out a low, rumbling chuckle, the sound crawling up Logan’s spine. “Guess little brother’s gone soft,” Victor said, his grin sharp and predatory. “Maybe you need a little help… cleaning things up.”

Logan tensed, feeling the familiar pulse of anger at Victor’s taunt, but he held himself in check. He couldn’t afford to show weakness, not now. “We don’t need your help,” he said flatly, his eyes locked on Stryker. “We’re close. Just need a little more time.”

Stryker raised an eyebrow, his gaze shifting from Logan to Wade, lingering just long enough that Logan felt a flicker of unease. “Close?” he repeated, a hint of mockery in his voice. “Interesting, because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re stalled. Distracted, even.”

Logan forced himself to stay calm, but he could feel the weight of Stryker’s scrutiny, the way his gaze seemed to strip away the layers, looking for cracks. He could only hope that his face betrayed nothing.

Stryker continued, his voice low, almost a murmur. “You know, I’ve heard some… interesting things about this journalist. Reserved. Guarded. Not the type to let things go. The kind who might blend in, fly under the radar.”

Logan’s heart skipped a beat, but he kept his face impassive, refusing to give anything away. But out of the corner of his eye, he saw Wade’s expression shift slightly, a glimmer of realization in his gaze. Logan felt a jolt of alarm as he saw Wade put two and two together. But to his relief, Wade stayed quiet, his face carefully neutral.

Stryker’s gaze sharpened. “So, let me be clear. I don’t care how ‘close’ you think you are. If I don’t see results soon, I’ll send someone else to finish the job. Someone with… fewer sentimental attachments.”

Victor’s grin widened, his gaze fixed on Logan like a predator sizing up its prey. “Wouldn’t mind a shot at this mystery journalist myself,” he drawled, his tone laced with menace. “I’ve got a knack for finding people who don’t want to be found. And once I find them…” He flexed his fingers, his claws slipping out, gleaming under the dim light. “Well, let’s just say they don’t stay hidden for long.”

Logan forced himself to stay steady, even as his pulse pounded in his ears. He knew exactly what Victor was capable of, and the thought of Victor tracking her down, getting his claws anywhere near her, made his stomach turn. He wanted to tear into Victor, to tell Stryker to back off, but he knew he couldn’t afford to give anything away. Not now. Not with her life on the line.

“Give us another week,” Logan said, his voice steady but laced with an edge of warning. “We’ll find them. You have my word.”

Stryker tilted his head, considering him, his expression unreadable. For a moment, there was silence, the tension in the room thick and suffocating. Then he gave a slow, cold smile. “Two days,” he said, holding Logan’s gaze with an intensity that made it clear he wasn’t offering any second chances. “After that… well, let’s just say I don’t think Victor will have much trouble picking up where you left off.”

Logan gave a tight nod, refusing to look at Victor as he spoke. “Understood.”

Stryker’s smile widened, satisfied. “Good. Then I’ll leave you to it.” He turned, gesturing for Victor to follow, but paused at the door, looking back over his shoulder. “And Logan? Make sure your priorities are… clear. I’d hate to think you were letting personal feelings get in the way of your work.”

With that, he strode out, Victor trailing behind him with one last lingering look that sent a shiver down Logan’s spine.

The door closed, leaving Logan and Wade alone in heavy silence. Wade sat back, crossing his arms, his expression unreadable as he studied Logan.

“So,” Wade said slowly, his tone light but his eyes sharp. “The journalist. Guarded, quiet… maybe someone who likes books, keeps to herself. Ring any bells?”

Logan’s jaw tightened, refusing to meet Wade’s gaze. “Drop it.”

Wade didn’t. He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a murmur. “Look, Logan, I get it. But if you’re gonna do this, you’d better be sure, because if Stryker finds out…” He trailed off, his meaning clear.

Logan closed his eyes for a brief second, the weight of everything pressing down on him. “I know the risks,” he said quietly, his voice barely a whisper. “But I’m not letting them touch her.”

Wade studied him for a long moment, and Logan could see the gears turning in his mind, the flicker of understanding mixed with reluctant respect. Finally, Wade leaned back, letting out a low sigh.

“Then we’d better make this convincing,” Wade muttered, his voice low, wary. “Because if Stryker or Victor get even a whiff of what’s going on, it’s over.”

Logan nodded, feeling his resolve harden into something sharp and unyielding. He knew what was at stake, knew the dangers that lurked in every step they took from here on out. Stryker had given him a week, but Logan didn’t trust him to keep that promise—not when he’d seen the glint in Victor’s eyes, the barely restrained hunger. Victor would do it in a heartbeat if he thought it’d get him back in Stryker’s good graces. Logan could practically feel the weight of the clock ticking down, and he knew he had to move fast.

“She didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” Logan muttered, more to himself than to Wade. “She just… she wanted to expose the system. Stryker. Everything he’s done to us.” His voice caught, the frustration and regret boiling beneath the surface. “She didn’t deserve this.”

Wade studied him quietly, a strange seriousness in his gaze. “Yeah, well, maybe she didn’t,” he replied, almost reluctantly. “You think I’m okay with half the things we’ve done? Or with the shit Stryker’s made us do? Hell, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about getting out myself if I thought there was a real chance.”

Logan looked at him, surprised. Wade rarely let his guard down, especially when it came to their line of work. This was a side of him Logan hadn’t seen before—raw, unguarded.

Wade sighed, running a hand over his face. “Look, man. I’ll help you,” he said, his voice softer now, carrying a note of real sincerity. “I don’t want her getting hurt, either. I’m not a monster. I know what Stryker will do if he gets his hands on her.” He paused, his gaze steady. “She doesn’t deserve that. And neither do you.”

Logan swallowed, the weight of Wade’s words settling over him like a lifeline he hadn’t known he needed. “So what are you suggesting?” he asked quietly, his voice barely a whisper, as if speaking too loud might shatter the fragile trust hanging between them.

Wade’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “If we’re gonna keep her out of Stryker’s sights, we’re gonna need to make this whole thing look legit,” he said, his tone calculating. “Stryker thinks we’re fumbling around because we don’t have any real leads. What if we… create a lead?”

Logan’s brow furrowed. “You mean fake it? Give Stryker something to chase?”

“Exactly,” Wade replied, his lips curving into a sly grin. “We leak a location, a name—hell, we can even plant some fake documents somewhere. Make him think she skipped town, got scared, and ran. If he’s chasing a ghost, he won’t have time to look too closely at what’s right under his nose.”

Logan felt a surge of hope, a sliver of light cutting through the tension. “You think he’ll buy it?”

Wade shrugged. “Stryker’s not as sharp as he likes to think he is. He’ll buy it if we sell it right.” He paused, a hint of doubt flickering in his eyes. “But you have to be careful. We make this move, and it’ll have to be airtight. Stryker doesn’t give second chances, especially not to his own men.”

Logan clenched his jaw, the gravity of Wade’s plan sinking in. It was risky. If Stryker suspected even for a second that they were feeding him false information, he’d come down on both of them—hard. But if it worked… it could buy them the time they needed.

“All right,” Logan said, his voice resolute. “We do this. We give him a trail to follow, keep him looking in the wrong places.”

Wade nodded, his expression grim but determined. “We’ll need to make it convincing. A name, maybe a fake contact, some breadcrumbs leading Stryker out of town.” He hesitated, then added, “And we’ll have to act like nothing’s changed. Like we’re still hunting her down.”

Logan felt a pang of guilt twist in his chest. He hated the idea of lying to her, of making her think he was still on Stryker’s leash. But he knew there was no other way. Stryker had eyes everywhere, and the slightest slip could put her life in even greater danger.

“We can’t tell her,” Logan murmured, more to himself than to Wade. “She can’t know we’re setting this up.”

Wade’s gaze softened, a rare flicker of sympathy in his usually sardonic eyes. “She doesn’t need to know,” he agreed. “Sometimes it’s better that way. Protects her, keeps her out of the crossfire.” He gave Logan a measured look. “Just… make sure she knows she can trust you. Because if she doesn’t, this whole thing falls apart.”

Logan nodded, steeling himself. “She’ll trust me,” he said, his voice low and firm. “I won’t let her down.”

A tense silence fell over them, each of them lost in thought, running through the plan in their minds. Finally, Wade broke the quiet, his voice barely more than a murmur. “One more thing,” he said, his gaze flickering toward the door as if expecting Stryker or Victor to barge back in at any moment. “Victor’s already suspicious. I saw the way he was looking at you like he knew something was off. If he gets even a hint of what we’re doing…”

Logan’s face hardened a dangerous glint in his eyes. “I’ll handle Victor.”

Wade studied him for a long moment, then nodded. “All right. Then we’re doing this.” He clapped a hand on Logan’s shoulder, his tone a mix of seriousness and forced humor. “Look at us, playing the heroes. Who would’ve thought?”

Logan managed a tight smile, but his mind was already racing with what had to happen next. He’d have to lie to her, to keep her in the dark while they set up the fake trail. He’d have to act like nothing had changed like he was still hunting her down—even as he worked to protect her.

“Thanks, Wade,” he said quietly, his voice sincere.

Wade shrugged, giving him a faint smirk. “Don’t thank me yet. Let’s get through this first.” He glanced over his shoulder, his expression turning grim again. “And let’s hope Stryker buys what we’re selling. Otherwise… this could get messy. Real fast.”

Logan nodded the weight of the plan settling on his shoulders. They had one shot to pull this off, to create a believable enough story to keep Stryker and Victor off her trail. He knew it was a gamble, but it was the only chance he had to protect her—to keep her out of Stryker’s reach.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

Logan’s mind churned with the details Wade had suggested, the lies they’d need to tell to sell this deception. He’d be walking a razor-thin line, but he was prepared to do whatever it took to protect her. But as he made his way down the hall to her apartment, a faint sense of unease prickled in his chest, like he was already too late.

He paused at her door, listening, making sure the hallway was empty before he knocked. A few seconds passed, and then the door cracked open, her wary eyes peeking through. Relief softened her face when she saw him.

“Oh, hey,” she said quietly, pulling the door open wider to let him in.

Logan stepped inside, closing the door firmly behind him and turning the lock, his eyes immediately scanning her small living space—a habit he’d developed since deciding to keep her safe. But something was different. There was an energy in the room, a tension he couldn’t quite place… until he noticed the duffle bag sitting on her couch, half-filled with clothes, a few books, and a stack of papers she’d been hastily shoving inside.

He froze, his stomach twisting. “Going somewhere?” he asked, trying to keep his tone steady.

She glanced at him, her expression conflicted. “Logan…” she started, her voice a mixture of determination and regret. She dropped another shirt into the bag, then zipped it up, her hands lingering on the worn fabric for a moment. “I have to go. I can’t stay here anymore.”

Logan’s chest tightened. Part of him wanted to be proud of her for being so smart, so aware of the danger circling them. But a much larger part of him was panicking, scrambling for a way to keep her here, to keep her safe. “You don’t have to do this,” he said, his voice low, urgent. “You don’t have to run.”

She shook her head, letting out a shaky breath as she straightened, her eyes meeting his with a fierce resolve. “Yes, I do, Logan. You know it as well as I do. You’re not the only one they’ll send after me. If you’re not going to… finish the job, someone else will.”

He clenched his fists, frustration, and fear tightening his throat. She was right, of course, and it made him want to tear down the entire system that had brought them to this point. But he couldn’t just let her walk away. “You think I can’t protect you?” he asked, his voice rough, almost a growl.

She softened, stepping closer to him, reaching up to place a gentle hand on his cheek. “I know you can,” she murmured. “If there’s anyone in this world I’d trust with my life, it’s you. But that’s exactly why I have to go. I can’t let you risk everything for me.”

Logan swallowed hard, his heart pounding at her touch, at the weight of her words. “I don’t care about the risks,” he whispered fiercely, covering her hand with his. “I’m not letting them touch you. Not Stryker, not Victor… no one.”

Her eyes glistened, and for a moment, he saw the vulnerability beneath her determination, the quiet fear she’d been trying so hard to hide. But she shook her head, pulling her hand back. “I won’t be the reason something happens to you. I won’t be responsible for that.”

“You’re not responsible for anything except staying safe,” he countered, his voice barely controlled. “I’ve got a plan. Wade and I, we’re gonna mislead Stryker, make him think you’re gone, that you’ve disappeared.”

She hesitated, her gaze flickering with hope before it dimmed again. “That’ll only work for so long. Sooner or later, Stryker will figure it out, and he’ll send someone else to hunt me down. You know that.”

Logan gritted his teeth, fighting the frustration boiling under his skin. “Then I’ll deal with it when that happens,” he said, his tone fierce, final. “I’m not letting you throw yourself out there, just waiting for them to find you.”

She let out a bitter laugh, her voice trembling. “Logan, do you hear yourself? You’re talking about going up against Stryker, against Victor, against all of them. They’ll come after you, too. They’ll kill you. And I… I can’t have that on my conscience.”

“Then don’t,” he shot back, taking a step closer, his gaze burning into hers. “Don’t put this all on you. I’m choosing this, understand? This isn’t about guilt or responsibility. It’s about me protecting the one good thing I’ve found in a long, damn time. And I’m not walking away from that. Not now.”

Her breath caught, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She reached up to touch his face again, her fingers trembling. “Logan… I never wanted this to happen. I didn’t want you to get involved, to risk everything for me.”

“Too late,” he murmured, his voice softer now, filled with a raw honesty that he couldn’t hide. “I’m already involved. I’m not walking away.”

She stared at him, torn, her gaze searching his face as if looking for some reassurance, some certainty. Slowly, she lowered her hand, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “Logan… if I stay, it’ll only make things worse. You and Wade might be able to mislead them for a little while, but eventually… eventually, they’ll catch up. And I can’t keep hiding, knowing that every second, you’re risking your life just to keep me safe.”

Logan took a deep breath, trying to keep himself steady. He understood her fear, her need to run. But he couldn’t let her go. Not when he knew exactly what would happen if she faced Stryker’s men on her own. “Then let me come with you,” he said quietly. “We’ll disappear together. Start fresh somewhere. Somewhere they can’t find us.”

She looked at him, surprised, her eyes widening. “You’d… you’d leave everything behind?”

“In a heartbeat,” he replied, his gaze unwavering. “I’d leave it all if it meant keeping you safe. You think I care about Stryker? About Team X? That life’s got nothing for me. Not anymore.”

Finally, she opened her eyes, meeting his gaze with a mixture of determination and vulnerability. “If you do this… there’s no going back.”

“I know,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. He took her hand in his, his thumb tracing gentle circles over her knuckles. “But if it means keeping you safe, keeping you with me… then it’s worth it.”

After a moment, she squeezed his hand, nodding slowly. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, but filled with a quiet resolve.

Logan pulled her into his arms, wrapping her up tightly, as if he could shield her from every danger waiting outside her door. He could feel her heartbeat against his chest, steady and warm, grounding him in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Just trust me, okay?” he murmured, his voice soft but fierce. He needed her to believe him, to know he wouldn’t let anything happen to her.

She nodded against his chest, her face buried against him, her hands moving up and down his back in gentle, comforting circles. For a while, they stood there in silence, wrapped in each other, until she looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with something that went beyond fear—something softer, deeper.

“Logan,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. She hesitated, searching his face. “Would you… kiss me?”

Her voice was fragile like she was afraid the question might break something between them. He looked down at her, taking in the delicate curve of her lips, the way they parted slightly as she spoke. Her cheeks were flushed, her gaze open and vulnerable in a way that hit him like a punch to the gut.

He swallowed, his thumb brushing over her cheek, unsure if she truly wanted this or if it was just the adrenaline, the danger, that was pushing her toward him. “Are you sure?” he asked quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “Is this… because of what’s happening? Or do you—”

But she silenced him by leaning in, her lips brushing softly against his. Her fingers slipped up to tangle in his hair. She kissed him like she was gathering her courage, like every fear, every doubt, was melting away with that one simple touch.

When she pulled back, her eyes met his, and he saw the truth there, raw and honest. “I’ve wanted this for a while,” she murmured, her voice steady, no hesitation left. “Hell, probably since that night at the club… but I was scared. Scared of what you might see if I let you in. Scared of getting close, because… because I thought I’d lose you, too.” She let out a shaky breath. “But I’m not scared anymore.”

Logan felt his defenses crumble, the walls he’d built around himself falling away under the weight of her words. She wasn’t running, wasn’t hiding behind excuses or fear. She was standing there, bare and unguarded, and trusting him with her heart. His chest tightened, an ache spreading through him as he realized just how much he needed this—needed her.

He leaned down slowly, giving her a chance to pull away if she wanted, but she didn’t move. Her gaze held his, steady and waiting, and he closed the remaining space between them, his lips capturing hers in a kiss. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, he felt the intensity build, something raw and desperate spilling over between them.

Her fingers tightened in his hair, her lips parting against his, and he deepened the kiss, pouring every unsaid word, every unspoken feeling into it. She tasted like warmth and hope and everything he’d thought he couldn’t have, everything he’d thought he’d lost. He held her close, his hands splaying across her back, anchoring her to him as if letting go wasn’t even an option.

“I’m not letting anything happen to you,” he murmured against her lips, his voice low and fierce. “Not while I’m here.”

She smiled, her gaze soft yet intense, and he felt her hands drift to his chest, coming to rest just over his heart. Her touch was light but grounding, a steady warmth that seemed to settle him in a way he hadn’t felt in years. “I know,” she whispered, her voice carrying a quiet certainty that made his heartache.

Her fingers moved slowly, almost reverently, tracing the lines of his chest before they dipped down to the hem of his shirt. She hesitated, looking up at him for permission, her eyes filled with a mixture of hope and need. Logan felt his breath hitch as she tugged gently at the fabric, her silent invitation hanging in the air between them.

For a moment, he froze, an instinctive caution holding him back. This was dangerous, selfish even. He knew he should be focusing on getting her to safety, on keeping his guard up. But with her here, looking at him like he was something more than a weapon, something worth risking everything for… he felt his resolve crumble. If this was the only chance they’d have to be together, then he couldn’t bring himself to turn it away. He needed her, needed this moment—something real and honest before everything went dark again.

With a quiet exhale, he lifted his arms, helping her pull his shirt over his head. Her fingers trailed against his skin as the fabric slipped away, leaving a faint trail of warmth in their wake. He could see the way she looked at him, her gaze softening as she took him in, the faint scars across his chest, the tension in his shoulders slowly easing under her touch.

Before he could say anything, she leaned up, pulling him into another kiss. This one was deeper, bolder, a raw edge of longing slipping into the gentle rhythm. Her hands moved up his chest, exploring the contours of his body with a quiet reverence that made him shiver. He wrapped his arms around her, guiding her backward, his hands steady on her waist as they sank onto the couch together.

They moved slowly, unhurried, as if savoring each touch, each shared breath. Her hands roamed over his bare skin, tracing the lines of muscle like she was memorizing him, piece by piece. There was a tenderness in her touch, a quiet understanding that made him feel seen, not just as Logan the soldier, the protector, but as something more—a man who had carried his pain, his regrets, and was finally allowing someone else in.

Her lips brushed along his jaw, down his neck, each touch light but deliberate, and he closed his eyes, letting himself be vulnerable in a way he never allowed himself to be. He felt her fingers tangle in his hair, her breath warm against his skin, and the weight of the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the quiet intimacy between them.

She pulled him closer, her fingers tracing along his shoulders. He could feel her heartbeat against his chest, steady and sure, grounding him in the moment. Every touch, every kiss was filled with a quiet urgency, an unspoken understanding that this might be all they had—a single, stolen night in a world that didn’t want them to exist together.

Her hands slipped beneath the waistband of his jeans, her fingertips trailing softly over his skin, and Logan shuddered under her touch. It wasn’t something he was used to—being touched like this, with care, with reverence—but he leaned into it, letting her pull him closer. His own hands moved instinctively, gliding down the curve of her back, mapping every line, every delicate angle as if trying to commit her to memory.

“You’re so beautiful,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, her words full of quiet sincerity as she tugged his jeans down his hips. Her eyes roamed over him, taking him in as if he were something precious.

Logan huffed out a quiet laugh, the sound rough and unpracticed. “Beautiful?” he echoed, a faint, self-deprecating grin tugging at his lips. It was strange hearing that word directed at him—foreign in a way that made him feel both exposed and disarmed. “I’m looking at beautiful, and it sure as hell isn’t me.”

She shook her head, a gentle smile softening her features. “You don’t see it, do you?” she said, her gaze steady and unwavering, as though daring him to believe her. Before he could respond, she leaned down, brushing her lips against his, silencing his doubts. The kiss deepened, slow and consuming, and Logan felt the world narrow until it was just her—her hands, her lips, her warmth against him.

His hands moved to undress her in return, his touch deliberate and steady. He didn’t rush, savoring every inch of newly revealed skin, every sigh and soft laugh that escaped her lips as their barriers fell away, one by one, until there was nothing left between them.

Her body fit against his like it had always been meant to, her warmth grounding him as they moved together, finding a rhythm that felt both new and ancient, as if they’d known each other in a thousand lifetimes before this one. Logan let himself get lost in her—her touch, her scent, the quiet, breathless way she said his name like it was something sacred. For the first time in what felt like forever, he let himself feel fully present, fully alive.

When it was over, they lay tangled together in silence for a while, the room dark and still, their own private world created in the quiet spaces between breaths. Her head rested against his chest, her breath warm and steady, rising and falling in time with his. Logan ran his fingers through her hair absentmindedly, marveling at the softness of it, at how natural it felt to hold her like this. He felt her fingertips tracing lazy patterns along his side, as if she couldn’t bear to let go of him entirely. He wanted to say something, to tell her that he’d protect her, that he’d find a way to keep her safe no matter what. But he knew that promises like that were fragile, easily broken.

Instead, he pulled her a little closer, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. “No matter what happens tomorrow… tonight was real,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “This—us—it’s real.”

She looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with a quiet strength. “I know,” she whispered, her fingers tracing gentle circles on his chest. “You deserve this, Logan. You deserve to be seen…and to be loved.” Her voice wavered slightly on the last word, but she didn’t look away. 

Those words hit harder than he’d ever admit. He swallowed thickly, his throat tight. He wanted to argue, to tell her she was wrong, that he wasn’t worth all this. But the way she looked at him—steady, unflinching—made it impossible. She meant it. She saw all the broken, jagged pieces of him, and she wasn’t afraid of them.

He nodded once, unable to speak, and pulled her back down into his arms. She settled against him, her body curling naturally into his, and he let his hand trace down her back again, slow and deliberate. He closed his eyes, resting his chin against the top of her head. 

The apartment settled into quiet stillness, a fragile peace settling over them. They both knew the danger waiting just outside these walls, the fight that lay ahead was far from over. However, Logan knew he’d fight a thousand battles to keep this feeling, this moment. 

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

A loud banging jolted Logan awake, dragging him out of a restless sleep. He shot upright, disoriented, the harsh sound echoing through the quiet apartment. In his confusion, he rolled off the couch, hitting the floor hard. He cursed under his breath, fumbling to pull on his jeans when a sick feeling settled in his gut.

She was gone.

His eyes darted around the room, his heart pounding as he took in the emptiness around him. Her coat was missing from the hook by the door, and the books and papers she’d been packing away last night were gone. The duffle bag she’d packed was gone. 

He rushed through the apartment, searching—her bedroom, the bathroom, every small corner where she might have left something behind. But it was empty. 

No, no, no, he thought, his chest tightening with a fierce, helpless frustration. She’d left without a word, without so much as a note. After everything they’d shared, after he’d sworn he’d keep her safe… she’d still chosen to leave.

The banging on the door grew louder, more insistent, accompanied by a voice muffled through the thin walls. “Logan! Open the damn door!” It was Wade, but Logan couldn’t bring himself to move, couldn’t pull himself out of the numb shock settling over him. She was gone, and he didn’t know where. His promise to protect her felt hollow, empty.

He stood in the middle of her apartment, his eyes scanning the space as if hoping for some clue, something she’d left behind that would help him understand why she’d run. But there was nothing. Just the quiet, heavy emptiness where she’d been.

The banging turned into a relentless pounding. “Logan! For god’s sake, open up!” Wade’s voice was growing louder, more urgent.

Logan clenched his jaw, swallowing the knot in his throat. He headed toward the door with a sense of dread pooling in his stomach. When he opened it, Wade practically stumbled inside, his expression unusually serious.

“Finally,” Wade muttered, glancing over Logan’s shoulder as if expecting to see her. “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been pounding on this door for ten minutes.”

Logan’s gaze was hard, distant. “She’s gone, Wade,” he said, his voice rough. “I woke up, and… she was just gone.”

Wade’s face twisted in a grimace, and he ran a hand over his face. “Yeah, I figured. She came by the apartment earlier. Banged on our door like her life depended on it. Woke me up.” He gave Logan a look that was half sympathy, half irritation. “She told me to tell you… she was sorry.”

Logan’s jaw clenched, anger and frustration boiling beneath the surface. Sorry. She’d left him with nothing but an apology after he’d risked everything to protect her. After he’d trusted her, let her in… after he’d started to think they could build something together.

“Did she say anything else?” he demanded, his voice a low growl. “Anything about where she was going?”

Wade shook his head, his expression darkening. “No. I’m sorry but it’s smart she got out of here.” He glanced over his shoulder, lowering his voice. “We’ve got a problem. I think Stryker’s onto us. He’s been sniffing around. I caught Victor hanging around across the street.” 

Logan’s fists clenched at his sides, the weight of the situation settling heavily on him. Of course, Stryker knew something was up. He should have expected this. The plan had always been risky, a desperate attempt to mislead a man who saw through lies like smoke. And now, with her gone, the whole thing was falling apart.

Wade leaned closer, his voice low and urgent. “Look, we need to move fast. Whatever you’re planning, we gotta do it now. If Stryker’s catching on, it’s only a matter of time before he comes after her for real. And if he finds her…” He trailed off, his meaning clear.

Logan’s heart hammered as he forced himself to focus, trying to pull his mind back from the raw edge of loss and anger. “She thinks she’s protecting me,” he said bitterly, more to himself than to Wade. “Running because she thinks I’ll be safer if she’s not here.”

Wade raised an eyebrow, his expression a mix of exasperation and reluctant sympathy. “Sounds like she’s smarter than the both of us. Hell, I’d run too if I thought it would keep me off Victor’s radar.”

Logan shot him a hard look, his fists clenching tighter. “She doesn’t know what she’s up against.”

“Maybe not,” Wade agreed, his tone unusually serious. “But she’s doing what she thinks is right. And for what it’s worth, I respect that. She’s not sitting around, waiting to be rescued. She’s trying to keep you out of this mess, and that’s… something.”

Logan felt a surge of frustration, the helplessness gnawing at him. “I don’t care what she thinks she’s doing. I’m not letting her face Stryker and Victor on her own.” His voice hardened, his resolve solidifying into something fierce and unbreakable. “I told her I’d protect her. And I damn well meant it.”

Wade looked at him, his gaze steady. “Then we’re gonna need to be smart about this,” he said, his voice low. “If she’s already on the move, there’s a good chance Stryker’s got eyes out for her. You need to get to her first before they do.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, his mind racing as he considered their options. “We can use the plan. Fake her trail, lead Stryker in the wrong direction. But if he’s already suspicious…”

Wade shrugged, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “Then we make him more suspicious. Feed him a lead so juicy he won’t be able to resist it. We throw everything we’ve got into it. Make it big, make it messy. Enough to keep him off her back while we get her out of here for good.”

Logan nodded slowly, a grim determination settling over him. It was risky, and it would take every bit of their combined skills to pull it off. But if it meant keeping her safe—if it meant giving her a chance to disappear, to live her life free of Stryker’s shadow—then he’d do whatever it took.

“All right,” he said, his voice a low growl. “Let’s get moving.”

Wade nodded, clapping him on the shoulder, his gaze sharp and focused. “You find her, I’ll handle the rest. Give me a few hours, and I’ll have Stryker running in circles.”

Logan looked at him, the unspoken gratitude clear in his eyes. “Thanks, Wade.”

Wade gave him a crooked smile. “Don’t thank me yet. Just don’t get yourself killed, all right? I’m not doing this solo.”

Logan managed a faint smirk, but his mind was already racing, already focused on one thing: finding her, convincing her that she didn’t have to run, that they could face this together.

He’d promised to protect her. No matter the cost, he was going to keep that promise.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

Logan followed her scent for miles, his truck tearing down winding backroads, kicking up dust as he pushed it to the limit. Her trail was faint but steady, and he clung to it like a lifeline, refusing to let himself consider what would happen if he lost it. By the time he’d driven nearly thirty miles out of town, the sun was setting, casting long shadows over the dense trees that lined the road. He pulled into a tiny, near-deserted town nestled against the edge of a sprawling forest. It was the kind of place you could disappear in, where strangers barely looked at each other and the silence was thick, almost eerie.

He parked his truck just outside a rundown motel, the scent of pine and damp earth mixing with her faint trace. She was close—he could feel it. A flicker of relief spread through him, mingling with the desperation he’d been fighting back since he’d found her apartment empty. He started toward the motel, his mind racing with what he’d say to her, how he’d convince her to stop running, to trust him one last time.

Just as he stepped onto the gravel path, he felt it—a familiar, chilling presence. A dark shadow in the periphery, slipping out from behind the trees like a predator closing in on its prey.

Logan stopped, every muscle tensing. He didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Gotta say, little brother,” came the low, mocking drawl, “didn’t think you’d make it this easy for me.”

Logan clenched his fists, his jaw tightening as he turned slowly, his gaze locking onto Victor’s hulking figure. Victor leaned against a tree, his arms crossed, that twisted grin on his face, eyes glinting with something dark and dangerous.

“You really shouldn’t be here, Victor,” Logan said, his voice a low, deadly warning. “Walk away. This doesn’t concern you.”

Victor let out a harsh laugh, pushing himself off the tree and stepping closer, his gaze sharp, predatory. “Oh, but it does concern me,” he sneered. “Stryker sent me to clean up your mess, seeing as you’ve gone all soft on us. Figured if you weren’t gonna take care of business, I’d handle it myself.”

Logan felt a surge of rage, his hands flexing at his sides. “You’re not touching her,” he growled. “She’s got nothing to do with this.”

Victor smirked, cocking his head as he looked Logan up and down, clearly enjoying the fire in his brother’s eyes. “Funny. That’s not what she thought a few months ago.” He took another step closer, his gaze cold and unfeeling. “Didn’t tell you, did she? I was the one who had a little chat with her back then. Warned her to stay out of Stryker’s business. But she didn’t listen. Thought she could just run off and hide.” He shrugged a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Should’ve put her down right then and there.”

Logan’s heart pounded as the pieces finally snapped into place. It had been Victor all along. Victor was the one who’d made her life hell, who’d driven her to run, who’d forced her into the shadows with a constant, gnawing fear that never left her. And now he was here, ready to finish what he’d started.

“You threatened her,” Logan growled, his voice dangerously low, each word laced with barely controlled fury. “That’s why she left her job. Why she has been looking over her shoulder this whole time? You’re the reason she’s running.”

Victor chuckled, a dark, twisted sound that only fueled Logan’s rage. “Yeah, she needed a little lesson in minding her own business,” he sneered, taking a slow, taunting step closer. “She was asking too many damn questions, poking her nose where it didn’t belong. Someone had to remind her there are places you don’t go unless you want trouble.” He tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with disdain. “And now, here you are, risking your neck for some nosy little journalist who should’ve known better. Makes me wonder if you’ve forgotten who you really are.”

Logan’s fists clenched, the muscles in his arms coiling like springs ready to snap. His knuckles were bone-white, barely containing the rage building inside him. “You don’t know a damn thing about her,” he spat, his voice cold, lethal.

Victor’s grin widened, his satisfaction evident in the cruel spark in his eyes. “Oh, I know enough. Enough to see she’s turned you soft.” He let the word hang, taunting. “The Logan I knew wouldn’t be wasting his time on some pathetic little tagalong. The Logan I knew would’ve put a claw through her throat the second she got too close.” He shook his head in mock disappointment, his voice dripping with venom. “But now? Now you’re just a lovesick fool.”

Logan took a step forward, his chest heaving, the air around him almost vibrating with barely restrained violence. His voice was low, and steady, each word sharp as a blade. “Call it whatever you want. But you lay one finger on her, and I’ll rip you apart.”

Victor’s expression darkened, his twisted smirk fading as he squared up to Logan, rolling his shoulders, his fists clenching in anticipation. “You really think you can protect her from me? From us?” he sneered. “She’s a loose end, and I don’t leave loose ends.”

Logan felt a familiar, white-hot fury boiling up inside him. It was all starting to make sense now—Stryker’s vague orders, the lack of intel. Stryker hadn’t known the journalist’s identity at first. He’d been kept in the dark, fed just enough information to justify sending Logan and Wade on this mission. Meanwhile, Victor, arrogant and reckless, had dismissed her as a minor annoyance… until Stryker finally connected the dots and ordered her elimination.

Now, with Stryker’s orders confirmed, Victor was out for blood. He didn’t just see her as a target—he saw her as a loose end he should have handled himself long ago. And in Victor’s world, there was no forgiveness for those kinds of mistakes.

Logan knew he should keep a clear head, and should think strategically. But hearing Victor talk about her like that—as if she were nothing as if she didn’t matter—sent a roar of anger through his veins, drowning out any restraint he’d managed to hold onto.

Logan bared his teeth, the raw anger coiled tight within him. “Let Stryker try,” he snarled. “I’ll take him down myself if I have to. And you? You’re gonna regret coming here.”

Victor let out a low, menacing laugh, shaking his head. “Always so dramatic.” He glanced toward the motel, a twisted gleam in his eyes. “You think she’s safe in there? Right now, hiding, waiting for you to come sweep her off her feet? She’s already dead, Logan. She just doesn’t know it yet.”

Logan lunged forward, fists flying as he swung at Victor with everything he had. But Victor was ready, sidestepping and delivering a brutal punch to Logan’s ribs, sending him staggering back. Pain flared up his side, but Logan didn’t back down. He launched himself at Victor again, his claws slipping out.

They clashed in a blur of movement, snarling, claws slashing, each one trying to gain the upper hand. The forest echoed with the sounds of their struggle, leaves crunching underfoot as they grappled, neither willing to give an inch. Logan could feel the bruises forming, the sting of cuts across his skin, but he pushed it aside, focusing only on one thing: keeping Victor away from her.

Victor laughed, a cruel sound that grated against Logan’s ears. “You’re wasting your time, little brother,” he taunted, dodging another swing. “You can’t protect her from this. You’re only dragging it out, making it harder for her in the end.”

Logan’s vision blurred with rage, his mind flashing to her face, the way she’d looked at him last night with such trust, such faith. “I’ll protect her from you, from Stryker, from anyone who tries to hurt her,” he spat. “She’s not just some target.”

Victor’s grin faded, something dark flickering in his eyes as he lunged forward, their faces inches apart. “Then you’re as good as dead,” he whispered, his voice filled with cold certainty. “Because if you don’t kill her, I will.”

The words sliced through Logan, sharp and vicious, and he knew—this wasn’t just about her. This was about everything Victor and Stryker had made him into, everything he’d spent his life running from. And now, standing in the middle of this empty forest, he had a choice.

He drew back, chest heaving, glaring at Victor with a look of pure determination. “Not this time,” he growled. “You don’t get to take this from me.” 

Victor smirked, but there was something wary in his gaze now. “We were supposed to stay by each other.” 

Before Logan could respond, Victor backed away, his eyes never leaving Logan’s, a silent promise of the bloodshed to come. Logan watched him disappear into the trees, his chest heaving as he fought to steady his breath. He knew Victor would be back. He knew Stryker wouldn’t stop until she was dead.

Logan understood why she’d run. He hated it, but he understood. He’d brought Victor here, right to her doorstep, and now she was in danger all over again. He felt a surge of frustration at himself, at the whole damn situation, but there was nothing he could do about that now.

He looked up at the rundown motel in front of him, its paint peeling and windows grimy, blending into the shadows of the forest like it had something to hide. Part of him knew he should keep his distance, and avoid drawing attention to her last known location. But he couldn’t just walk away, not without making sure she was okay.

Following her scent, he made his way down the narrow row of rooms until he stopped in front of one of the doors, his pulse pounding in his ears. Her scent lingered here, strong but fading. He knocked softly, hoping she was inside, praying she’d throw open the door and let him tell her that they could figure this out, that she didn’t have to run.

But there was only silence. The door creaked open under his touch, swinging inward with a quiet groan. Logan’s heart sank, dread clawing at him as he stepped inside. The room was empty.

Panic flared up in his chest, and for a split second, his mind went to the worst-case scenario. What if Victor had gotten here first? What if he’d taken her? Logan forced himself to breathe, to push the thought down. He couldn’t afford to lose control, not now.

He took a few steps deeper into the room, eyes scanning every corner. Her scent was everywhere—lingering in the air, clinging to the worn bedspread, the nightstand, the small chair by the window. But she was gone, vanished like a ghost.

A wave of relief washed over him, mixed with an aching sense of loss. She’d left before Victor could get to her, no doubt trying to throw him off her trail. She was smarter than he’d ever given her credit for, brave enough to stay one step ahead. But that didn’t stop the hollow feeling settling in his chest as he realized she was truly gone.

Logan’s gaze drifted to the nightstand beside the bed, where the drawer was pulled slightly open. Something about it caught his eye, and he felt a strange, uneasy pull as he reached for the handle. He slid the drawer open, his heart pounding, and found a folded piece of paper inside.

He unfolded it, his eyes scanning the messy, hurried handwriting that was unmistakably hers.

Logan,

If you’re reading this, it means you found me. Or at least, you came close. I don’t know what I expected, thinking I could slip away from you. You’ve always been relentless, and maybe that’s part of why I…

He paused, his heart clenching as he read the next words, written in smaller, more delicate script.

…why I fell in love with you.

That’s exactly why I can’t stay. I know you’d do anything to protect me, but it’s too dangerous. You’ve already risked so much, and the last thing I want is to be the reason something happens to you. You have your own battles to fight, your own ghosts to face. I can’t be one more burden for you to carry.

I’m sorry for all of this. For dragging you into my mess, for making you feel like you had to choose between protecting me and yourself. You don’t deserve that.

This… us… it’s better this way. I’ll find a way to keep myself safe, and maybe someday, we’ll meet again under different circumstances. But for now, I need you to let me go. 

I’ll always remember you, Logan. The way you looked at me, the way you made me feel like I mattered in a world that had tried so hard to erase me. You gave me something I didn’t know I was missing, and I’ll be grateful for that, always.

Logan’s hand shook as he held the note, his breath catching in his throat. He read the words again, letting each one sink in like a dagger, twisting deeper with every line. She loved him. She loved him enough to let him go, to believe that leaving was the only way to protect him.

A raw ache spread through his chest, mingling with a fierce anger that he couldn’t direct at anyone but himself. She thought she was doing what was best, though she was sparing him somehow. But didn’t she understand? There was no protecting him from this. There was no way he could just let her walk out of his life.

Logan closed his eyes, swallowing hard. He could practically hear her voice in those words, feel her resolve, her heartbreak. She was trying to be strong, to be brave. But she was wrong if she thought he’d let her face this alone.

Logan stared down at the note, his hand shaking as he folded it carefully, the paper crinkling under the pressure of his grip. Her words echoed in his mind, each line a quiet, devastating goodbye as if she thought he could just let her walk away and disappear without a fight. She didn’t understand—couldn’t understand—that there was no version of this world where he’d ever be able to let her go.

He slipped the note into his pocket, the weight of it settling against his heart like a brand, and took a final look around the empty motel room. The faded bedspread, the cracked mirror, the soft imprint of where she’d sat on the edge of the bed—it all seemed to echo with her presence, taunting him with the memory of how close she’d been, how real it had all felt. But now the silence was heavy, a hollow reminder of everything he’d lost, and the anger simmering inside him began to burn hotter.

His jaw tightened, a new determination hardening his features as he spoke softly into the empty room. “Sorry, darlin’,” he muttered, his voice rough, laced with a dark promise. “But you don’t get to decide that for me.”

With that, he turned on his heel and strode out of the room, his footsteps heavy and sure. The cool night air hit him as he stepped outside, filling his lungs and sharpening his focus. The quiet town was bathed in moonlight, casting shadows across the deserted streets, and at that moment, Logan knew exactly what he had to do.

He couldn’t keep playing defense, couldn’t keep letting Stryker and Victor call the shots. If he wanted to protect her, to end this once and for all, he’d have to confront the very men who had made him into a weapon. And if they wanted him to be the monster, the animal they’d tried to create… then that’s exactly what he’d show them.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

Logan made it back to the apartment just as dawn was breaking, the pale light casting long shadows across the empty streets. He hadn’t slept and hadn’t stopped moving since he’d left the motel. His mind was on a relentless loop, thinking of her, of Stryker, of the promises he’d made to protect her. But now, as he approached the bar’s entrance, he saw Wade waiting outside, slouched against the wall, a grim expression on his bruised face.

Logan’s eyes narrowed, taking in the fresh cuts and swelling around Wade’s left eye, the blood crusting at the corner of his mouth. His knuckles were raw, split open like he’d been in a hell of a fight. Logan’s stomach twisted.

“What the hell happened?” Logan growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Wade glanced up, managing a weak smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Victor happened. Thought he could beat the crap out of me,” he replied, wiping a smear of blood from his lip with the back of his hand. “I showed him, though. Stabbed him a few times.” He raised one of his katanas, the blade slick with blood that hadn’t yet dried.

Logan’s jaw clenched, his fists curling as he processed what this meant. “Victor was here?” he asked, barely controlling the fury simmering beneath his words.

Wade gave a tight nod, his expression turning serious. “Yeah. Came looking for answers shortly after you left. Seems he figured something was up, and started sniffing around. When I didn’t give him what he wanted, he got… persuasive.” Wade gestured to his bruised face, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “I didn’t talk, but he knew enough to put two and two together.”

Logan cursed under his breath, pacing in a tight circle as he tried to keep his rage in check. “Did he go back to Stryker?” he demanded.

Wade nodded, wincing as he stretched a bruised shoulder. “Didn’t stick around long enough to ask him, but he took off right after he was done using me as a punching bag. If I had to guess, he’s already reported back to Stryker.”

The implications sank in like a stone. Stryker knew. They’d blown their cover, and it was only a matter of time before Stryker sent everything he had to hunt her down.

“Do you have any idea where they went?” Logan asked, his voice tight, barely controlled. He could feel the urgency gnawing at him, clawing up his spine, urging him to move, to find her before it was too late.

Wade shook his head, his expression frustrated. “No idea. But I did catch him muttering something about an island before he stormed off. Could be nothing… or it could be where Stryker’s holed up.”

“An island?” Logan’s mind raced, trying to connect the pieces. Stryker had always preferred remote locations, places that were hard to reach, and easy to defend. An island would be perfect for him, isolated and far from prying eyes. It would give him every advantage if he was planning to lay a trap.

Wade nodded, his gaze sharp. “Yeah. He didn’t say which one, but I did some digging after he left. There’s an old military facility about twenty miles off the coast. Rumor has it, Stryker’s been using it as a base for… whatever twisted shit he’s been up to lately.”

Logan’s eyes darkened, the pieces falling into place. “If Victor’s told him everything, Stryker will go straight for her. He’ll want answers, want to know how much she knows about Team X.” He didn’t say what they both knew Stryker would do to get those answers. Torture, interrogation… if Stryker got his hands on her, it wouldn’t end until she was broken.

Wade met his gaze, the usual sarcasm gone from his eyes. “Then we’d better move. If we’re gonna catch them, we can’t waste any more time.”

Logan took a deep breath, feeling the fire of determination settle into something ice-cold, something unbreakable. “You’re right. We get to that island, we take out Stryker, and we bring her back.”

Wade gave a grim nod, sheathing his katana with a sharp click. “Finally, something exciting,” he muttered, managing a smirk despite the bruises. “I was getting real tired of this babysitting gig. Let’s go cause some damage.”

Logan didn’t bother responding. His mind was already miles away, focused entirely on the mission ahead. He wouldn’t let Stryker get his hands on her. Not now, not ever. Stryker had taken enough from him, twisted enough lives. This was where it ended.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

Logan and Wade moved through the dense jungle in silence, each step sinking into the thick, damp earth. Shadows clung to them, swallowing their movements in darkness, but Logan’s senses were sharp, honed. The night air was heavy with the scent of pine and saltwater, the distant crash of waves muted by the thick canopy above. Overhead, the moon cast a pale, silver glow, but it barely touched the ground through the dense branches, leaving them in near-total darkness.

They’d anchored the boat a mile offshore, slipping onto the island undetected, and now the fortress loomed ahead—a grim, sprawling structure hidden on the far edge of the island. Tall walls surrounded it, topped with barbed wire that glinted under the floodlights, which swung in sweeping arcs across the perimeter. The place was built like a prison, and somewhere inside, she was trapped.

Wade glanced over, his usual smirk absent, replaced by a focused, steely expression. “So,” he whispered, barely audible over the rustling leaves, “we going in loud, or are we keeping it quiet? ‘Cause I gotta tell you, I’m itching to blow this place to hell.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, his gaze fixed on the fortress. “We ambush them,” he said, his voice low and hard. “Stay together unless they try to split us up. If Stryker tries to run, he’s yours. I’m going for Victor.”

Wade nodded, his eyes gleaming with a hint of wild excitement. “Copy that, boss. But just so we’re clear—if Stryker so much as breathes in my direction, he’s getting a bullet between the eyes.”

They crept to the edge of the outer fence, crouching low as they scanned the patrols circling the perimeter. Wade pulled a pair of wire cutters from his pack and looked at Logan, waiting for the signal. Logan gave a sharp nod, and Wade moved swiftly, slicing through the fence just enough for them to slip through. Together, they moved like shadows, weaving between patrols and ducking under cameras, their every movement silent and precise. They reached the main building, slipping inside just as a guard passed by, oblivious to the intruders in the night.

Inside, the facility was cold and dimly lit, a maze of concrete corridors that smelled of metal and stale air. The hum of machinery vibrated through the walls, punctuated by the distant footsteps of guards. Logan’s senses were on high alert, his every nerve tuned to the sounds around him. And then he heard it—a faint, familiar voice echoing somewhere deep in the building.

His heart twisted, his blood running cold. It was her.

He signaled to Wade, and they moved swiftly through the winding hallways, following the faint sounds of conversation and the occasional clang of metal. They passed locked rooms and sterile, empty cells, their shadows stretching long under the flickering fluorescent lights. Finally, they rounded a corner, coming face-to-face with a heavy metal door at the end of a narrow corridor. There, standing guard with his back to them, was one of Stryker’s men.

Logan didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward, his fist connecting with the guard’s jaw before the man could react. The guard crumpled to the ground with a muffled grunt, unconscious before he even hit the floor.

Wade grinned, crouching down to pick up the guard’s keycard. “See? I told you we make a good team.” He swiped the card against the reader, and the door slid open with a mechanical hiss.

They slipped inside, weapons ready, and moved down a long, dimly lit hallway. At the end of it was a small room, and inside, Stryker waited.

He turned as they entered, a smug smile curling across his lips as if he’d been expecting them all along. His gaze flicked between Logan and Wade, his eyes gleaming with twisted amusement. “Ah, Logan,” he drawled, his voice dripping with mock warmth. “Right on time. I figured you’d come running. It’s almost… predictable.”

Logan’s fists clenched, his claws sliding out with a grinding schlikt. “Where is she?” he growled, his voice low, dangerous.

Stryker chuckled, his tone filled with cold amusement. “So protective. You know, I have to wonder—why are you so attached to this girl, Logan? Don’t tell me you actually care.”

Logan took a step forward, his gaze like steel. “Last chance, Stryker. Where. Is. She?”

Stryker held his ground, his expression unruffled. “You don’t get it, do you?” he sneered, crossing his arms. “This isn’t about her. It’s about you.” He tilted his head, studying Logan with a look of cold calculation. “Deep down, you knew exactly who she was from the moment you met her. Don’t try to deny it. Your instincts—the animal in you—knew she was the target. That’s why you found her so… intriguing.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing, his eyes locked on Stryker with a deadly intensity.

Stryker smirked, his voice dropping to a taunting whisper. “You’re just a weapon, Logan. A soldier. You may think you care about her, but let’s be honest—you’re only here because she was the job. It’s what you’re made for.”

The words twisted something inside Logan, old wounds reopening under Stryker’s taunts. But he forced himself to keep breathing, to keep control. Stryker was baiting him, trying to push him over the edge.

“Don’t pretend you’re anything more than the animal you are,” Stryker continued, his tone cold, dismissive. “She’s just a loose end, and you—well, you’re just the fool who thought he could be more.”

Logan’s vision went red. He surged forward, slamming Stryker against the wall, his claws hovering just inches from Stryker���s throat. “You don’t know a damn thing about me,” he snarled, his voice shaking with barely restrained rage.

Stryker laughed, even as Logan’s claws pressed dangerously close. “Go on, then. Prove me right. Kill me. Show me you’re exactly what I made you.”

For a moment, Logan’s grip tightened, his muscles coiled, every instinct screaming for him to end this, to make Stryker pay for every life he’d ruined. But then, from the corner of his eye, he saw Wade step forward.

“Logan,” Wade said quietly, his voice surprisingly calm. “He’s not worth it.”

Logan hesitated, the haze of rage clearing just enough for him to hear Wade’s words. Before he could react, Wade stepped forward, swinging the butt of his gun into Stryker’s temple. Stryker crumpled to the ground, unconscious, his mocking smile finally silenced.

Wade glanced at Logan, giving him a knowing look. “You don’t need to dirty your claws on him. Go find her.”

Logan took a steadying breath, his hands still trembling, his heart still pounding with fury. He forced himself to pull back, his gaze shifting away from Stryker and toward the door at the end of the hallway. He could feel her presence somewhere beyond it, faint but steady like a beacon pulling him forward.

“Go,” Wade repeated, nodding toward the door. “I’ll make sure this asshole doesn’t get back up.”

Logan nodded, giving Wade a look of gratitude. Without another glance at Stryker, he turned and strode down the hallway, his steps quickening as he neared the door. He pushed it open, his every sense alert, his every instinct focused on one thing: finding her, getting her out, and putting an end to this nightmare.

As he moved deeper into the facility, the walls seemed to close in around him, the smell of metal and cold concrete sharp in the air. But he didn’t stop. He could feel her, close now, her heartbeat faint but steady, guiding him through the darkness.

He reached the final door and Logan knew one thing for certain: he wouldn’t leave this island without her.

Logan pushed open the door and slipped inside, his movements fluid and silent. The room was dim, lit by a single harsh light overhead, casting long shadows across the cold concrete floor. There, tied to a chair in the center of the room, was her—face bruised, her wrists bound, her gaze defiant despite the fear lingering in her eyes.

Victor stood beside her, one hand gripping her shoulder, his claws extended just enough to graze her skin. He was watching her with a twisted, mocking smile, completely oblivious to Logan’s presence.

Logan’s chest heaved, the sight of her—wounded, terrified, but still holding her ground—igniting something fierce and uncontrollable inside him.

Victor chuckled, still oblivious, his voice dripping with disdain. “You thought you could get away, didn’t you? Thought someone was gonna save you?” He leaned in closer, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. “I hope he gets here in time, sweetheart.”

Logan took a single, slow step forward, his voice a low, menacing growl that filled the room. “Let her go.”

Victor froze, his body going tense before he slowly turned to face Logan. His eyes narrowed, a flicker of surprise quickly replaced by that familiar, twisted grin. “There you are, little brother. Took you long enough.”

Logan’s claws slid out with a grinding schlikt, the sound sharp in the stillness. “You wanted me here. Well, here I am.”

Victor laughed, a cold, mocking sound. “You know, you’re just proving my point, Logan. She’s made you weak. Look at you, risking everything for this pathetic little journalist.”

Logan’s gaze flickered to her for a moment, her eyes meeting his, wide and filled with relief. He felt the fury simmering inside him sharpen, and solidify. “Call it whatever you want. I’m done talking.”

Victor’s smirk faded, replaced with a cold, calculating look. “Oh, little brother,” he said, releasing her and stepping forward, flexing his own claws. “But let’s be honest—you’re not gonna win this fight.”

For a split second, something flickered in Victor’s expression, something almost… conflicted. It was as if he was wrestling with a thought, a shadow of doubt crossing his face before his jaw tightened, and the hardness returned to his eyes.

Victor glanced back at her, and for a moment, Logan thought he might waver, might change his mind. But then Victor’s face twisted into a sneer, and he shook his head. “No,” he muttered. “I don’t leave loose ends. Not for anyone.”

With that, he lunged.

They clashed in a blur of movement, claws flashing, each strike more vicious than the last. Logan’s world narrowed to the raw, brutal fight in front of him, the air filled with the sound of claws slicing through flesh, the impact of fists and bodies against concrete. Victor fought with a brutal edge, his strikes fueled by years of resentment, rivalry, of a twisted sense of superiority.

Logan had something Victor didn’t—a reason to fight beyond pride. He had someone to protect, someone whose life mattered more than his own. That gave him strength, an unbreakable resolve that kept him going even when the pain threatened to pull him under.

At some point during the fight, he caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye. She was watching, her gaze locked on him, her lips parted in a silent plea. It was all he needed.

With a roar, Logan tackled Victor to the ground, pinning him with one knee against his chest, his claws poised at Victor’s throat. “You’re done,” Logan growled, his voice filled with a quiet, deadly finality. “You’re done trying to control my life.”

Victor sneered up at him, defiant even in defeat. “You really think this changes anything? Stryker will come for her. And when he does, you won’t be there to protect her.”

Logan pressed his claws just a little closer, his voice a low, furious whisper. “Then he’ll get the same welcome you did.”

Victor’s eyes flashed with fear or the faintest glimmer of respect—but before he could respond, Logan brought his fist down, slamming Victor’s head against the concrete. Victor’s body went slack, unconscious, and Logan wasted no time turning back to her.

She was still in the chair, her hands bound, her face pale but determined. He crossed the room in two quick strides, his hands already working on the ropes around her wrists.

“Are you okay?” he murmured, his voice low, almost gentle.

She nodded, her gaze steady as she looked up at him. “I am now.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, relief flooding through him. He reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Just then, footsteps echoed down the hall, followed by a familiar voice. Wade slipped into the room, grinning as he wiped blood from his knuckles. “Stryker’s not gonna be a problem. Let’s just say he and I had a little… conversation.”

Logan nodded, his hand slipping into hers as he helped her to her feet. “Good. Then let’s get off this damn island.”

They moved quickly, with Wade leading the way back through the facility, every step taking them further from the nightmare they’d escaped. As they reached the edge of the island, the boat waiting for them on the shore, Logan held her close, his hand never leaving hers.

This time, he promised himself, he’d keep her safe—for good.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

The sun was just starting to dip below the horizon, casting a warm, golden light across the little cabin nestled at the edge of the forest. Birds chattered in the trees, and the steady murmur of a nearby creek filled the air with a peaceful hum. It was a quiet spot, secluded and off the grid, miles away from the life they’d left behind. And that was exactly how Logan liked it.

Inside the cabin, Logan was standing at the kitchen counter, brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to peel potatoes with a knife far too sharp for the job. His large hands weren’t exactly suited to delicate work, and he muttered under his breath as the potato slipped from his grip for the third time.

She leaned against the doorway, watching him with a soft smile tugging at her lips. It had been months since they’d escaped Stryker’s grasp, since that night on the island, and she still wasn’t used to seeing Logan like this—shirt sleeves rolled up, hair slightly damp from a shower, wrestling with a kitchen task like he was facing down an enemy.

“Need some help, chef?” she teased, crossing the room and taking the knife from him before he could protest.

He grunted, folding his arms and pretending to look annoyed, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “You think you can do better?” he asked, arching a skeptical eyebrow.

She rolled her eyes, deftly peeling the potato with a few smooth strokes. “I’m just saying, I’m trying to avoid a trip to the hospital. With the way you were holding that knife, I’d have to stitch you up by dinnertime.”

He let out a low chuckle, watching her with a look that was almost… awestruck. Sometimes he still couldn’t believe she was here, in this cabin they’d built together, her laughter filling the air, her hands moving with easy familiarity in their shared kitchen.

She finished peeling the potato and handed it to him with a little flourish, meeting his gaze with a mischievous smile. “There. Now maybe I’ll let you handle the boiling part. Think you can manage that?”

Logan rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t keep the grin off his face. “Keep talkin’, and I might just make you do all the work tonight.”

“Is that supposed to scare me?” she shot back, raising an eyebrow. 

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low rumble. “Fine. I’ll let you cook… if you can keep that smart mouth of yours quiet for five minutes.”

She laughed, the sound filling the cabin, and Logan felt something settle in his chest, a quiet contentment he hadn’t known he could feel. She nudged him with her elbow and turned back to the counter, slicing the potatoes with practiced ease, her hair falling softly over her shoulder.

Logan watched her, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed, a faint smile tugging at his lips. He’d never thought he could have this—a life so normal, so simple, filled with nothing but quiet, ordinary moments. It was strange, the way he felt more himself here, peeling potatoes and teasing her over burnt toast, than he ever had in all the years he’d spent fighting, running, surviving.

He reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from her face. She looked up, surprised by the softness in his gaze.

“What?”

He shook his head, his thumb lingering on her cheek for a moment longer than necessary. “Nothing. Just… I’m glad you’re here.” His voice was low, almost rough, like he wasn’t used to saying things like this out loud.

Her face softened, her hand coming up to rest over his, her fingers warm and gentle. “Me too,” she said quietly, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

They stood there for a moment, her hand resting on his, the world around them fading into a warm, comfortable silence. Then, with a little smirk, she nudged his hand away and turned back to the potatoes.

“Now,” she said, a glint of mischief in her eyes, “unless you’re planning on staring at me all evening, maybe you could make yourself useful and grab the salt.”

Logan huffed, grumbling under his breath, but he moved to grab the salt shaker from the cupboard, fighting the smile that kept creeping onto his face. He handed it to her, and she gave him a playful wink, her fingers brushing his as she took it.

They worked side by side in the kitchen, moving around each other with a practiced ease, like they’d been doing this for years. Now and then, their hands would brush, or she’d catch him watching her out of the corner of his eye, and he’d look away, a faint flush coloring his cheeks.

Later, as they sat down at the little table by the window, the last light of the sunset spilling across the room, she reached across the table and took his hand, lacing her fingers through his. Logan looked down at their joined hands, feeling that familiar warmth spread through his chest, a quiet happiness he still wasn’t used to.

She caught his eye, smiling softly, a playful spark in her gaze. “Logan… I love you, but you’ve gotta stop staring at me like that. You’re making me blush.”

Logan shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips, his thumb gently brushing over her knuckles as if memorizing the feel of her hand in his. “Can’t help it,” he murmured, his voice rough, almost hesitant. “I keep thinking… this is all a dream. Like I’m gonna wake up, and you’ll be gone, and I’ll be right back where I started.”

His gaze drifted around the room, taking in the little touches she’d added—a vase of wildflowers on the windowsill, her favorite books stacked messily on the coffee table, a soft throw blanket draped over the back of the couch. The cabin felt like a home now, filled with reminders of her presence, grounding him in a way he hadn’t realized he needed.

She squeezed his hand, her fingers steady and warm. “Logan,” she whispered, her voice gentle but firm. “I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to worry about that.”

He looked back at her, his expression softening as he let her words sink in. “You promise?”

She smiled, a warmth in her eyes that made his heart feel like it might break, just from the sheer vulnerability of it all. “I promise,” she said, lifting their joined hands to press a kiss to his knuckles. “I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me, like it or not.”

A quiet laugh escaped him, and he felt some of the tension he’d been holding finally release. “Good,” he said, his voice thick, barely more than a whisper. “Because I don’t think I’d know what to do without you now.”

She tilted her head, studying him with that soft, patient look that always seemed to cut right through his defenses. “You don’t have to worry, Logan.”

He didn’t respond right away, just nodded, letting her words settle over him like a blanket, warm and reassuring. It was such a simple promise, but it held a weight he hadn’t known he needed. She was here, with him, and for the first time, he actually believed she would be—today, tomorrow, as long as he could hold onto her.

After a long moment, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze, a slow smile breaking across his face. “All right, then,” he said, voice low and steady. “Guess I’d better get used to it.”

She grinned, leaning over the table to press a quick kiss to his lips, her laughter filling the room like sunlight. “Guess you’d better,” she teased, brushing a hand through his hair as she settled back in her chair.

Bonus Scene

Inside, the cabin was cozy and warm, the smell of coffee lingering in the air. Logan sat at the small kitchen table, a newspaper spread out in front of him, though he wasn’t reading it. His eyes kept drifting over to her, watching as she moved around the kitchen, humming softly to herself. She was cooking breakfast—eggs sizzling in the pan, a pot of tea steeping on the counter. It was a simple morning, ordinary in every way, and that was what made it so perfect.

Logan leaned back, a rare, soft smile tugging at his lips. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt at peace.

Then, a loud, obnoxious honk shattered the quiet, followed by the crunch of tires on gravel.

Logan’s eyes narrowed, and she raised an eyebrow, sharing a knowing look with him. Only one person would make that kind of entrance in the middle of nowhere.

“Great,” Logan muttered, pushing himself up from the table. “Just when things were getting quiet.”

He opened the cabin door, stepping outside just as a beat-up old pickup truck pulled up, kicking up a cloud of dust. Wade grinned from the driver’s seat, his sunglasses crooked, his arm slung casually out the window. He looked as out of place in the peaceful setting as a wolf in a field of lambs.

“Logan!” Wade called, climbing out of the truck and stretching his arms overhead like he’d just driven across the country. “Nice little place you got here. Very… rustic.” He looked around, taking in the trees and the clear blue sky. “I see you’ve gone full mountain man.”

Logan folded his arms, fighting the urge to smile. “What are you doing here, Wade?”

Wade shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eye. “What, a guy can’t visit his favorite grumpy Canadian in the middle of nowhere? I was in the neighborhood.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “The nearest town is fifty miles away.”

Wade shrugged, unapologetic. “Yeah, well, I heard there was good coffee around here. And maybe I missed the two of you. But don’t go getting all sentimental on me. It’s just a temporary lapse.”

She appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on a dishtowel and smiling despite herself. “Hi, Wade. You hungry?”

Wade’s face lit up, his gaze flicking from her to the warm, inviting cabin. “I knew I liked you for a reason,” he said, grinning. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Eggs and toast,” she said, gesturing for him to come inside. “Logan’s been chopping enough firewood to heat the whole forest, so I think we’ll be warm enough.”

“Don’t let him fool you,” Wade said as he stepped inside, glancing around the cozy cabin with a touch of surprise. “This guy’s a softie at heart. First, it’s firewood and breakfast in bed. Next thing you know, he’s knitting sweaters and taking up bird-watching.”

Logan rolled his eyes, but there was no real bite to it. He shut the door behind them, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall, watching Wade settle in as if he belonged there. Despite the sarcasm and theatrics, Logan could see it in Wade’s eyes—the genuine relief that they were all still standing, that the worst was behind them.

“So,” Wade said, taking a seat at the table and eyeing the spread of food appreciatively. “How’s life in the woods treating you two? Getting used to all this fresh air?”

She chuckled, pouring coffee into a mug and setting it in front of him. “It’s… peaceful,” she said, glancing at Logan with a soft smile. “Exactly what we needed.”

Wade’s expression softened for a moment, his usual sarcasm slipping away. “Yeah, I bet. You two deserve it. God knows you’ve been through enough.”

There was a moment of comfortable silence as they sat around the table, eating breakfast and enjoying the warmth of the cabin. Wade filled them in on the latest gossip from town, spinning tales of bar fights and questionable characters that made her laugh, and even Logan couldn’t hide a smirk or two. It was like a glimpse of the world they’d left behind but without any of the darkness or danger that had once haunted them.

Finally, as they finished eating, Wade leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head. “Well, this was nice. A little slice of domestic bliss.” He smirked, raising an eyebrow at Logan. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

Logan snorted, his tone dry. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t,” Wade said, but there was a glint of something softer in his eyes as he looked between them. “I’ll let you two lovebirds get back to your wilderness honeymoon.”

She laughed, rolling her eyes as she gathered the plates. “Thanks for stopping by, Wade. Really.”

He got up, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair. “Anytime. Someone’s gotta check in on you two, make sure you’re not turning into total recluses.” He paused, looking at Logan with a hint of something unspoken. “Take care of each other, yeah?”

Logan gave a curt nod, but his expression softened, and he clasped Wade’s shoulder, a rare show of gratitude. “You know we will.”

Wade grinned, pulling his sunglasses down over his eyes. “Good. And hey, don’t be strangers. You know where to find me.”

With one last nod, Wade stepped out of the cabin, heading back to his truck. They watched as he climbed inside, giving a quick wave before driving off, leaving a trail of dust in his wake.

As the truck disappeared down the dirt road, she turned to Logan, slipping her hand into his. They stood together in the doorway, watching the dust settle, feeling the quiet of the woods close in around them once more.

Logan looked down at her, his thumb tracing small circles on the back of her hand. “Guess we’re really out here now,” he murmured, a hint of wonder in his voice.

She smiled, leaning into him, her gaze soft. “Yeah. Just us.”

[the-sun-and-the-sea]

Odesta Week Day 3: Free Space

If you had told Johanna three years ago that she would be sprawled out on Finnick Odair’s couch in the middle of the day, she would have laughed in your face. 

She never gave Finnick much thought before she came to the Capitol herself. To her, he’d just been another perfect Capitol face, living it up on the television while her own people worked and starved and died. It didn’t even matter that he was from the districts too, because by that point, she was pretty convinced he was a Capitol citizen in all but name. 

Johanna may be stubborn sometimes, but she’s not an idiot. She can admit that she was wrong about Finnick. 

They’re in his apartment, languishing in the midday boredom, because Finnick’s next few weeks are about to get very busy. In his words, all he wants to do is rot on the couch. Which is fine with Johanna, because at least they’re not being accosted by screeching Capitol teenagers who want a picture or an autograph. 

“How much longer until you’re supposed to be in prep?” she asks, nudging his leg with her ankle. 

He leans back so his head rests against the couch. “Don’t remind me.”

As much as Finnick likes to pretend this stuff doesn’t bother him, even Johanna can tell it’s harder this year than it’s ever been before. “You know, even Haymitch is worried about you.”

“Hypocrite,” says Finnick, but there’s no venom behind it. He leans forward again, his body slumping over, eyes fixed at his knees. “I screwed up.”

“What else is new?”

“I’m serious, Johanna,” he says, voice so soft she has to strain to hear. He doesn’t look up at her. “I think I might love her.”

Her heart sinks. Annie Cresta, fellow victor and Finnick’s not-so-secret girlfriend. He’s done a good job keeping her away from the Capitol, but the victors all know that Finnick has a girl back home. It’s different when it’s a casual thing, but love? Well, when you’re a victor, that’s about the stupidest thing you can do. 

Johanna snorts. “Why would you do that?”

Finnick looks up at her now, eyes misty. “It’s not like I meant to! I didn’t even notice it was happening, until one day we were out on the boat and she said we should get a cat and I just…realized.”

“Great story,” she says dryly. “I’m sure the president will love to hear it.”

Finnick groans. “The worst part is, I don’t even regret it. I like being with her.”

“You’re not going to be with her much longer if you don’t control yourself,” Johanna says, and his eyes go downcast again. “It’s not worth it, Finnick.”

Then he smiles, like he’s seeing all of the good in this world and none of the bad. “Yes, it is.”

***

So she doesn’t get it. Sue her. 

Keeping people around—even worse, loving them—only ends in more pain. She doesn’t know why Finnick would do it willingly.

Johanna doesn’t even meet Annie Cresta until they’re neighbors in the Capitol detention center, sharing a wall and a conveniently placed air vent that lets some sound through. 

“Finnick talked a lot about you,” Annie says conversationally. Her voice is hoarse from all the screaming, but it doesn’t sound like anything that happened in the past few days has bothered her. For someone known for being a basket case, she’s good at turning that part of her brain off. 

Johanna huffs a laugh. “Jealous?”

“Not at all,” she replies, and with Annie it sounds genuine. “He said you were his best friend. Are his best friend.”

“Best friend,” Johanna echoes. The phrase feels foreign on her lips. She can’t remember the last time she had a best friend. And even with their years in the Capitol together, she didn’t know Finnick thought of them that way. “He didn’t talk about you much.”

She can envision Annie’s shrug, even if they can’t see each other. “That’s fine. He was compartmentalizing. I’m glad he had you, though. And that you had him.”

“We’re not even friends,” says Johanna. 

“We’re both friends with Finnick,” Annie replies. “That can make us friends, too. If you want.”

Having friends isn’t much smarter than falling in love, but if Annie’s words are anything to go by, Johanna’s been doing that this whole time. “Okay.”

Time is meaningless these days because the lights never turn off and they get meals at irregular intervals, if they get them at all. Johanna’s begun to measure the passage of time by the growth of her fingernails or the hair on her legs until she’s needed for propaganda videos and the prep team remakes her. Then she starts over from scratch. 

“What did you and him do in Four?” Johanna asks one day, although it may actually be night. 

Annie takes a second to respond. “We liked to go out on the boat. Far enough out that we could barely see the shore. Have you ever seen the ocean?”

“Not really.”

“Well, it’s beautiful,” Annie continues. “And endless. Not even the Capitol can control that much water. Sometimes we’d go out there and just say all the things we could never say back home.”

Johanna huffs a laugh. Her lungs burn as she talks. “Why didn’t you ever just sail away?”

“Why didn’t you ever run off into the woods until you passed the border?” 

Fair enough. “Because they would have caught me.”

“Well, here we are,” Annie says, caustic and surprisingly aware. “It could be worse. At least Finnick’s not here.”

That’s true. Finnick’s safe in District Thirteen. Probably not happy, but he’s not a pile of bones in the ground. “If he were here, he’d probably try to sing for us. You know, to cheer us up.”

“Please,” Annie sputters, and for a second Johanna can’t tell if she’s crying or laughing. “Don’t make me think about Finnick singing.”

Johanna muffles a laugh with her hand. 

She gets it now. 

[arokel]

To the Victor

Rating: G Pairing: Don/Bobby, Bobby/OMC Tags: Pre-relationship, pining, jealous don, awkward flirting Notes: inspired by @savvylittlecoxswain 's fantastic Poughkeepsie headcanon !

ao3

“Is your scowly friend back there a republican, by any chance?”

It takes Bobby a second to parse the words. He’s not used to the way Frank speaks - polished, refined, but underneath all that education and money there’s still a trace of the East Coast drawl that usually sets Bobby’s blood boiling to hear. But they aren’t out on the water, and Frank isn’t his opponent, and a few times now Bobby has gotten so lost in that cognitive dissonance and all the fascinating contradictions making up Frank’s voice that he’s completely missed the substance.

He cranes his neck to look behind him, mind catching on the most useful part of the sentence: scowly. And Roger is staring wide-eyed at a bust of Agrippa tucked into a bookshelf, which means…

“Who, Don? Don’t think so, but I doubt it’d matter anyway. New Deal’s done a lot for all of us boys.”

Frank’s grin, wide and toothy and as perfectly politic as the rest of him, warms with a sincere relief that seems to light Bobby up from the inside. This is the reason people win elections, he thinks. You just have to be handsome and charming enough and people turn to butter. Even Bobby, strong-willed as he is, feels a little weak in the knees.

“That’s wonderful news. I’m sure my father will be glad to hear it too,” Frank says, with a tone as casual as if he hasn’t just promised to personally relay Bobby’s gratitude to the President of the United States. “Must be another reason this Don fellow dislikes me, then, if it’s not politics.”

Bobby blinks, pulled back to reality by the mention of Don. “Oh - no, Don likes most people. He’s just a bit stone-faced. Killer smile when you can coax it out of him, though.”

It’s not a smile like Frank’s, broad and easy and inviting. It’s something much sweeter, something that brings an answering smile to Bobby’s lips just thinking about it - shy, private, and so brilliant it almost glows. Bobby would vote for Frank Roosevelt; he would go to the ends of the earth for Don Hume.

“Maybe he’s jealous,” Frank says.

“Of what?”

Frank’s grin turns sly, and only then does Bobby realize, with a cold thrill even in the face of that warm smile, that he’s been caught out. His only saving grace is that Frank seems pleased to know it.

“Could be plenty of things,” he says, drawing out the words with an obvious relish. “Putting myself in his shoes… he’s your stroke, right? So you come here, you meet some moneyed easterner, and you spend your night talking tactics with him - well, if I fancied myself the underdog I’d be glaring daggers at me too.”

“He’s not glaring daggers,” Bobby says, bristling. Don would be well within his rights to be pissed at Bobby over all that, if indeed he is pissed; Frank doesn’t need to make it sound petty.

Frank, with a politician’s ease, shrugs it off. “Maybe he thinks he’s a better rower. Maybe he thinks he’s more handsome.”

The second is accompanied by an exaggerated wink, and Bobby grudgingly allows himself to be charmed. Frank can’t help the arrogance, to a degree; that’s just what being raised an easterner with money gets you.

He laughs along. “For a politician’s son, you’re not very discreet.”

“You should have seen your face when you brought up his smile. Biggest cow-eyes I ever saw. Didn’t think there was much need for subtlety after that, though I don’t have high hopes of it getting me anywhere,” Frank says, shaking his head ruefully. “Go un-ruffle your stroke’s feathers. I’ll still be here if it turns out he really does just think he’s a better rower.”

Once again Bobby finds himself struggling to process the words, but this time it has nothing to do with Frank’s accent.

“Thanks,” he says vaguely, eyes already seeking out Don, who is much closer to ‘glaring daggers’ than Bobby took him to be after all. “He is a better rower, by the way.”

Frank ducks his head in a gracious admission of defeat. “I don’t doubt it.”

Don’s face does brighten at Bobby’s approach, though you’d have to know him fairly well to notice the shift. Bobby, who has spent a good number of months cataloging Don’s every expression and could probably call himself the foremost expert in reading Don Hume’s moods, sees it right away. He slides in along the ornately-patterned wall beside Don, kicking his feet out nonchalantly and knocking their elbows together, and watches another cloud dissipate.

Bobby shoots him an exaggerated frown. “Why the thunderclouds?”

“Just feel out of place, I guess,” Don says, with an unconvincing shrug. “All this wealth, when we’re putting paper in our shoes. And the president’s son welcoming us in and talking with us like we’re all the same.”

“Frank’s nice when you give him a chance.”

Although now, outside the radius of that smile, Bobby can admit that some of Frank’s charm is dependent on whether he’s actively turning it on you.

Don hums in clear skepticism. At a loss, Bobby tries for the most plausible of Frank’s harebrained, flirtatious theories. “Don’t worry, you’re a better rower than he is.”

“I know I am,” Don says, with a rare touch of arrogance. It looks good on him. Then he frowns again. “You know that just from talking strategy with him?”

So, it’s not that. Nor is it Frank’s initial conjecture - not that Bobby ever thought it was; Don is too steady for that kind of pettiness. And there’s no world in which it’s the final one.

“I’m a good cox,” Bobby says simply. “And you’re the best.”

Don snorts.

Bobby doubles down. “Scoff all you want, but two months from now you’ll have an Olympic medal and he won’t.”

“Then why is he smirking?”

Bobby knows the answer to that. What he doesn’t know is how Frank’s self-effacing grin, which reminds Bobby so strongly of a losing candidate on election night, could make Don think anything other than the truth: that when it comes to Bobby, Don has already won.

[ambrossart]

soooo, genuinely speaking, does evelyn actually have a real little crush on vic as well or is it all a childhood thing? obviously she’s hopelessly inlove with henry and she’s got this weird thing with patrick, and while she gets jealous about vic and very possessive, i time to time wonder if it’s all a real crush or just something from her childhood that had carried into her teen years? and, this may sound stupid lol, but in your opinion, does your paper men patrick have any past serious relationships or serious longings for? obviously before evelyn, but i mean like a genuine liking for. not the mind games with evelyn. part of myself believes he used to be capable of having a genuine interest and passion for someone and part of me doesn’t. i hope that wasn’t a weird or confusing question, id just like ur thoughts and opinions!! have a great day/night!

There was definitely a time when Evelyn thought she was in love with Victor Criss—that he was “the one who got away” and everything—but I think now she realizes it was a silly childhood crush, nothing more. Unfortunately, Vic always kept Evelyn at such a distance. Even if he didn’t always mean to, he did. So her feelings never had a chance to develop into anything stronger.

Evelyn currently has no romantic feelings for Victor: 1) because of her feelings for Henry and 2) because Victor hurt her really badly, and she still hasn’t forgiven him. (Vic’s also never acknowledged what he did and apologized, so… yeah there’s a lot of unresolved issues there.)

Despite all that, Evelyn still cares about Vic as a friend; and yes, occasionally, some residual feelings flutter to the surface. It’s a nostalgia thing. No big deal. I think Evelyn misses the simplicity of liking Victor. The innocence of it and of that time in her life. And I think her jealousy toward Christie is less about Vic dating and more about the way he treats her. Vic always had a cruel way of shutting Evelyn out, so to see him being so open around Christie, it stings a little. It stings a lot.

What’s so special about Christie?

Lastly, regarding Patrick, this question (or at least a similar one) has been brought up before. Let me see if I can find the post.

One second.

One second.

Here it is!

Short answer? No, Patrick doesn’t enter into relationships because he doesn’t view people as “people.” They’re just playthings to him. Some toys he likes more than others, but he has no real emotional ties to any of them. He plays with them until he’s bored, or until they break, and then he throws them away and moves on to someone else.

[thatravenpuffgirl]

Fred x Hermione Headcanons that I adore Part 2

Hermione visits the burrow and comes to the quidditch cup with the Weasley family and Harry in the summer before her fourth year and Fred makes up a plan to well, casually flirt with Hermione after beginning to like her at the end of the previous year

Basically, walking around the house shirtless half the time, even when Molly tells him off for it

Hermione stumbled across him shirtless in the kitchen alone one day and was mortified, blushing. Fred just smirked and winked. "Like what you see, huh Granger?" just being his usual teasing self really. Hermione becomes even more flustered, unable to look Fred in the eye, and rushes out of the kitchen

Then a few days later at the quidditch cup, Fred buys her a scarf in one of the team's colours. "Looks good on you, Mione"

Fred hugging Hermione tightly after the Death Eater Attack on the Quidditch World Cup

Hermione and Fred spend a lot of time together once they return to Hogwarts as usual, studying and hanging out together

Fred assures Hermione that everything will work out after Harry's name is pulled from the Goblet of Fire

Fred being nervous but excited about the Yule Ball, secretly practising his dancing

Desperately wants to ask Hermione to the ball, but is afraid

Is a little jealous when Victor Krum beats him to it, but he tries not to show it after Mione confides in him about her date first.

Dancing with Granger during the Yule Ball, and being absolutely speechless over her appearance that night- although he found she was always pretty.

Finding Hermione alone outside of the Great Hall a little while later

"I'm okay Freddie, just needed a minute alone. Dancing is quite tiring"

"Yeah, you seem to be having quite a good time on your feet, Granger"

Hermione had smiled then, before blurting out "You know, I don't really like Victor, Freddie"

"I mean- he's quite nice, but not the one for me. It's funny, I've been thinking about finding the one... and how some people never get a chance too. I mean, really, there aren't a lot of guys who like me that way, so what if I miss my chance?" Hermione vented

Fred shook his head and smiled, sitting down next to her. And then he decides to do someone stupid and reckless. Leaning over to Granger, and whispers in her ear, "You won't miss your chance, I mean, even I like you that way, Mione."

Hermione froze, and Fred bit his lip. He knew in his mind, he screwed up -he shouldn't have said that, so soon. But then Hermione moved her head to the side, looking into Fred's eyes. They were close, he could see all the little freckles scattered along her cheeks, and he could hear her breathing while trying to keep his own in check, and all he could think was that he shouldn't move his head, and then-

Hermione was kissing him, and he was kissing her back, and he wasn't sure what to do and maybe she didn't either. Fred rested his hands gently on her hips, smiling, and Hermione touched his cheek as their lips brushed together tentatively and they kissed for a minute or two before pulling apart. Fred felt giddy, his breath a little heavier. He could see Mione's cheeks burning as she smiled nervously, and they looked at each other wide-eyed.

"Wow..."

"I know"

Note: There will be another part, but this time it'll be titled "Fred and Hermione dating Headcanons I adore" since in my mind fred and Hermione start dating after this point.

[wandaluvstacos]

THE ONLY SECONDS THAT MATTER

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE IS UP!

Genre: Contemporary Romance Rating: 18+

Includes: Extensive horse nerdery + cowboys, mxm romance (1 trans + 1 cis), some discussion child abuse, some instances of trans/homophobia (it is rural Oklahoma, y'all), depression, occasional sex scene (but it’s a slow burn for sure)

Victor Ortiz-Bennett had some reservations about moving to Oklahoma, but his late aunt willed him a 70-acre horse farm, and he decides to fulfill his dream of running and operating his own training facility. Victor’s been around the reining horse show circuit for a while, and he’s ready to settle down, travel less, and spend more time with the horses he loves and away from the people he can do without. That is, until he picks up a horse at an auction with a bucking problem he can’t fix, and he has to take her to the one guy who can ride anything– Johnny Stearns, a retired professional rodeo rider.

Johnny Stearns is loud, chatty, eccentric, and fears nothing, exactly Victor’s opposite. However, Victor finds himself sinking into an odd friendship with this new foul-mouthed cowboy without a filter, diving deeper into the mess that is Johnny’s life until there’s no way to extract himself from it. Johnny may talk a tough game, but there’s more to him than he’ll let most people see. Victor knows getting in too deep will mean a rough ride, but if there’s anything Johnny’s taught him, it’s how to stay in the saddle.

Excerpt:

“Who was that person—guy—from last night?”

“What guy?” When Victor saw Johnny’s dead-eyed expression, he continued, “Oh, right, that guy. Just a date. Nothing serious.”

“What do you mean, nothing serious?”

“Well, he lives in Forth Worth and I live in Oklahoma, so—”

“How long have you known him?”

“Less than a week. Why, are you jealous?”

“No. Just wonderin’.”

“Hmm.”

“Seemed kinda…” Johnny rolled his tongue against his cheek a moment.

“Kinda what?”

“Oh, you know.”

Victor raised an eyebrow.

Johnny lifted a hand and let it go limp at the wrist.

“What’s wrong with that?” Victor asked.

“Nothin’. Just didn’t think you were into that sort. I thought he was a girl. Looked like one, too.”

“You have no clue what I’m into.”

“You were into me.”

“And how did that go? God, Johnny, I just wanted one night of uncomplicated fun. Don’t read more into it than there is.”

“You have sex?”

“That’s none of your business. Should I remind you that you were seeing and sleeping with Daisy for two months and you didn’t say a thing to me?”

“We only slept with each other, like…” Johnny had to take a moment to think about it, “twice, and she talked me into it both times. I have a hard time sayin’ no to her. It wasn’t my idea.”

Victor had to laugh a little, even if it came from a place of helplessness. “Right, you just tripped and fell into her vagina, I’m sure.”

“It beats drinkin’.”

“Why are you here?” Victor had to ask, because this conversation was going nowhere.

“I told ya, I felt like drinkin’ so—”

“Seems like it’s partially you wanting to ask me about my date from last night, which you have no right to know about. So if all you want is information on who I fuck in my free time, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“All I’m wonderin’ is why you can run around with this stranger but when I suggested we casually mess around, you acted like I slapped you across the face.”

“Because I know you. It’s completely different.”

“I don’t see it that way.”

“Good for you. I don’t.”

“Sorry, but you were askin’ for way too much. I know you’re a Californian boy and you think that the whole world is cool with the queers now, but small town Oklahoma is still livin’ in the 1930s. If you wanted to have a cute lil public gay life with a partner, you shoulda moved to Massachusetts.”

[hoodedboy79]

Platonic/Whisper (Fable) hc's

Male Reader | Kinda followed the game but also didn't write this with the reader being the Hero of Oakvale in mind so yeah | End is kinda rushed. |

=====================

• Annoying Big Sister™

• It doesn't matter if you're actually older, she's your big sister (aka she's not letting you get a word in to correct her 💀).

• Whisper wasn't exactly thrilled with having to share a room with a boy, or share her room at all, and definitely let's you know about it every day. Even years down the line.

• She definitely forces you to pull pranks on the Guildmaster with her (She will put all the blame on you if you guys get caught).

• Is pretty distant with you when Thunder is around. She's too focused on impressing him that it doesn't matter what you two were up to privy to Thunder appearing all she cares about is the fact that you are her sparing partner and she intends to beat you.

• On the subject of Thunder, he doesn't like you.

• He's not shy on criticising your every move, especially during combat training. He's obviously more concerned with Whisper's development and is a lot more harsher on her but he's very quick to extend that blunt advice to you as well.

• He's low-key jealous that you 'took over' as Whisper's brother but he'd rather willing give up on Lady Grey than admit that.

• Back on to Whisper, if you beat her, even once, in the random challenges that she comes up with she'll quietly sulk all the way back to the Hero's Guild.

• If you beat her at all, or a significant amount, of her challenges she'll ignore you completely for a while. She'll even have her back to you in bed and pretend to sleep if you try and talk to her.

• That's only as children though. As teens she'll still be pretty pissy with you but it'll just fuel her to be more elaborate with her challenges and she's even more determined to beat you than usual.

• On the day where you two are just lounging around the Guild, probably annoying all the other hero trainees and or the Guildmaster, Whisper would probably tell you a bit about her past/culture just to pass the time. She isn't too fond of the quiet.

• It wouldn't be much and she's unsure on some things since she was quite young when she ended up in Albion and pretty much everything she knows is from Thunder, and he isn't to big on casual conversation these days.

• She'd expect you to also tell her something about where you're from. If you're from Albion then she'd just ask about the area you were born in (if you remember it).

• Now as you two get older and leave the Guild, you naturally drift apart but occasionally Whisper will appear seemingly out of nowhere and accompany you on missions (She annoyed the Guildmaster till he told her what missions you were on).

• If you use/were interested in explosives then Whisper might let you borrow some of her's if she has extra but will not so subtly imply that you're covering her drink tab at the Oakvale Tavern in return (She intends on drinking you out of a fortune).

• Now when you decide to fight in the arena only for Whisper to appear in the 3rd round came as a complete shock but a semi-welcomed one.

• Her casually admitting to bribing her way in.

• She was worried about you but like her brother would rather die than admit it.

• When it comes down to the final round and you two are put against each other, obvious hesitation follows.

• Well you hesitate more than Whisper, who was strangely quiet at the announcement but quickly brushes her shock off in favour of challenging you one last time.

• With no other choice, you two fight.

• You being the victor was not much of a shock, even if it felt like it, but Whisper pleading for her life definitely was.

• You spare her, obviously, much to the disappointment of the screaming crowd.

• Other than brief surprise and clear relief Whisper keeps her head down and avoids looking at you as you two are finally able to leave the arena.

• You both go your separate ways and don't see or hear from each other for a few months.

• Until you manage to find her one day drinking amongst the local drunkards seemingly engrossed in a pretty fierce drinking game.

• Finally noticing you Whisper quietens and just slides you one of the many pints of ale on the table, inviting you to join them.

• So all in all you and Whisper have a complicated relationship but you care about each other and even though multiple fights, both physical and verbal, without a doubt will break out when you two catch sight of each other there's still an unspoken trust between you two.

[victorluvsalice]

It’s February, and you know what that means -- Valicetine’s Day is coming up! Or, rather, Valicertine’s Day, given my love for my new OT3. And to help celebrate that, I have found myself some OT3 ship memes to post for the next couple of weeks! :D Here is one by @junnieevee, which I found very nice indeed. :) As per last year’s Valice Ship Meme February, some explanations of why I did some of the things I did on this meme are under the Read More:

Jealousy/Horniness/Clinginess Levels: None of them get particularly jealous (Smiler is naturally fairly chill, while Victor and Alice tend a little more toward self-loathing, unfortunately) -- I put Alice as the highest there because we’ve SEEN her jealous in the Forgotten Vows Verse, meaning I feel like she’s the most prone to it. Horniness was easy -- Victor has a fairly low sex drive, and Alice basically has none at all unless very specific buttons are pushed, so Smiler took that by a mile. XD It was a toss-up between which of Victor and Alice would be clingier (Alice due to the loss of her family, Victor due to the loss of his first two romantic interests) -- I eventually decided Victor struck me as the clingier type and put him a little ahead of the others.

Tropes: Victor and Alice’s tropes were easy -- Alice is very much a Violently Protective Girlfriend when it comes to Victor, and their dynamic (with Alice being the harder one who knows a thing or two about fighting, and Victor being the softer one who prefers to keep to the background) does at least invoke Pitbull Dates Puppy. Victor and Smiler were a little more difficult, but after a scan through some of the romantic tropes on TV Tropes, I decided on Romantic Ribbing (as Smiler really does strike me as the type to lovingly tease their partners) and Laugh Of Love (as Smiler would definitely make Victor laugh more!). Alice and Smiler also took some thought, as they themselves aren’t in a romantic relationship -- they’re just good friends who have a common partner. However, once I confirmed Friends With Benefits was also a trope, that immediately went on there -- one of Alice’s favorite jokes is that she and Smiler are “friends with benefits,” with Victor being “benefits.” XD I also gave them Casual Kink because -- well. At least in the main Modern AU verse, the relationship IS a kinky one, and the pair are basically co-Domming Victor. XD It felt like the best fit!

Alignment Chart: Okay, this one took some thought -- I ended up putting Victor and Alice in “Neutral Good” and Smiler in “Chaotic Good” because, the way I characterize them, they’re all good people who will help others, with Victor and Alice maybe being somewhat more inclined to follow regular old laws and such than Smiler. However, I put them at the BOTTOM of those squares (with Smiler actually coming out of theirs) because I feel like there is an argument to be made that they might shade Neutral due to caring about each other and their friends most of all -- I’m really not sure. I’m not a D&D player, and I feel like this is a really subjective one. But yeah, so far, so Good.

The Graphs: The “Be Gay. . .” one was probably the easiest -- Smiler is definitely the one to do chaotic crime, while chaotically SOLVING crime is kind of the plot of Alice: Madness Returns, sooo. . . XD Victor is of course a more peaceful sort, and Corpse Bride has him accidentally solving a crime as well (that being the murder of Emily), so yeah!

“Greeting Each Other” was probably the next easiest -- I was TEMPTED to put Smiler or Alice in the “’sup bitch” quadrants, but ultimately decided it didn’t fully fit their personalities and kept them below the horizontal line -- if close to it. Smiler is definitely more of a “bro” person, though, while Alice kinda leans toward “My Love” and Victor much more strongly leans toward it. He’s probably the mushiest of the three.

“Showing Affection” -- well, I immediately knew Smiler is the kind of person who will easily and often go in for hugs and kisses with their partner, so putting them high up in the “Physical PDA” quadrant was a no-brainer. Victor and Alice I decided were more verbal (I’d already established in earlier memes that Alice is more verbal than Victor anyway), though they do like their kisses, and I decided that, due to his upbringing, Victor was probably the one more likely to keep affection behind closed doors. Though I imagine that’s a habit Alice and Smile quickly manage to break him out of. XD

“They Are. . .” was probably the hardest because -- hmmm. While was fairly comfortable putting Alice in “Jock Goth” (if only because of A:MR combining pretty, generally dark-colored dresses with lots of platforming and running around), and I was pretty certain Victor and Smiler leaned more toward “Nerd,” I wasn’t sure if either Smiler or Victor was “Goth” or “Prep.” After looking up prep styles, I decided to put Victor on the “Prep” side, and Smiler on the "Goth” one, but keep them VERY CLOSE to the line -- Victor in particular because I think you could argue he’s got Prep clothes in Goth colors. *shrug* Again, very subjective, this one!

The Middle “Who Fits This Criteria Best” Bit: I imagine some of these are easy to figure out -- Victor strikes me as very much the first to apologize after any fights; Alice is definitely the “excuse me, they asked for no pickles” girl; Victor is only too happy to use his money to spoil his beloveds; and I think I make it clear my ships all tend to be ride-or-die, with all three of them being willing to sacrifice themselves for their loved ones. But as for some of the others:

First To Confess: This is Alice because, in the modern AU, she’s the first to bring up that she’s noticed Victor and Smiler have a mutual crush going on AND that she’s open to polyamory. The trio wouldn’t have gotten off the ground without her deciding to address the elephant in the room!

First To Kiss: Victor is much more comfortable letting his partners kiss him first, due to not wanting to misjudge a situation and make it awkward. So yeah, when it came to first kisses, both Alice and Smiler initiated their respective ones.

Prone To Hide Their Feelings: Victor because he’s shy and easily convinced others will reject him; Alice because she’s either oblivious to her own feelings or is also convinced no one will feel the same way about her. Smiler is much more up front about their feelings -- when they realize they HAVE them, see below...

Wakes Up First: Fear for Victor and Alice, as I have decided Smiler is a Morning Person. XD More seriously, when thinking about it, it felt right that they’d be the first one up -- they’re maybe not the EARLIEST riser, but they’re better at getting up in the morning that Victor and Alice for sure! And a lot peppier, which is either cute or annoying depending on how groggy Victor and Alice are.

What’s Updog?: Okay, simply put, Smiler would make the “updog” joke, and Victor would fall for it. I wasn’t sure which way to read the category. XD

First To Propose: Victor seems like the one who would most worry about marriage and somehow finding a way to make their relationship more “legal.” Though I don’t know if he WOULD propose just because -- well, which one does he actually MARRY? He’d personally feel like he was leaving one of them out.

Wants Children: I was tempted to line this out, but I eventually went for the “Victor with a ?” instead because I could imagine him KINDA wanting kids (he certainly does not mind becoming a father in the Secundus and Forgotten Vows verses). But I have never actually pictured the trio WITH kids, and I think he’d be fine if it just stayed the three of them, so... *shrug*

Didn’t Know They Were Dating: This is Smiler because, in the modern AU as I’m currently picturing it, they’re actually the LAST to figure out they wanna be with Victor. XD Basically, they waved off any potential for romantic feelings as “aw, I just think he’s a bit cute, not like I want a guy who’s already partnered with such a great girl!” -- up until the hypnosis session, when Alice called Victor “darling” and it hit Smiler like a TRUCK how much THEY wanted to say that to Victor. Cue a lot of panicked texting to their friends afterward (and a lot being on the receiving end of shit from those same friends XD). But yeah, for now, poor Smiler’s the one in that category.

Initiates Contact: Basically a repeat of the “First To Kiss” category -- Victor would rather let his partners come to him with physical affection than go to them and be rejected (especially with Alice, who does prefer to be the one to initiate contact in general due to her touch thing).

Approached First: Basically a repeat of the “First To Confess” category, as Alice was, again, the first one to bring up and okay the idea of a polyamorous relationship. She’s also the one who encouraged Victor to say hi to Smiler in the first place after realizing who they were, sooo -- yeah!

Says The L Word First: I think Smiler would be the first to drop it, with Victor following behind -- I’ve given Alice trouble saying “love” in the past due to worry about what it might mean for the person she says it to (see the Secundus version of Alice, who couldn’t get it out without stuttering for most of the fic). Plus Smiler’s just the most open with their feelings, and Victor the most mushy, so yeah.

The Oblivious One: Smiler and Alice get to share this one due to a shared “it took us a while to realize we loved Victor” problem. XD Yeah, in this verse, it took Alice a little while to cotton on that she LOVED Victor, not just LIKED him, after they’d become friends, and I just explained what happened with Smiler above. It’s kind of adorable in its own way. XD

Where Are They On The Lines: I imagine most of these are reasonably easy to figure out, but a few notes just in case:

Big/Small Spoon: I have Smiler on the “Big Spoon” side and Alice on the “Small Spoon” side, but you can easily flip them -- what’s important is that Victor is sandwiched in the middle, which he really enjoys. :)

Kills The Bug/Lets It Out: I see Smiler as equally likely to kill or release the bug -- it depends on if they can catch it, where it is, and how easy a release would be. (Either that or they just get whoever’s closest to deal with it instead.)

Steals Clothes/Has Clothes Stolen: I put them all in the middle because, well, I can SEE Smiler and Alice being the type to borrow clothes -- but the different body types on display here means I’m not sure that anything any of them took from the others would FIT. Unless we’re talking some REALLY baggy hoodies and the like. Maybe they buy each other stealable clothes as the relationship goes on. XD

Swears Like A Sailor/Oh Fiddlesticks: I put Smiler closer on the “Oh Fiddlesticks” side simply because I feel they would use that kind of goofy non-swearing just for a laugh. They ARE capable of saying “fuck,” but “fudge” is often funnier. :p

Makes Dinner/Can’t Cook: They all have their strengths -- Alice is good with general cooking; Victor enjoys baking; Smiler is excellent with mixing drinks and making sauces and stuff like that. Dinner is often a team effort!

Responsible Driver/Don’t Let Them Behind The Wheel: I was tempted to make Smiler “drives like crazy,” but decided against it -- they may go a little faster than Victor would like, but they won’t do anything too reckless to avoid getting into an accident, which would really ruin everyone’s day. Meanwhile, I see Alice as wanting to be responsible, but oftentimes she DOESN’T drive because having a Wonderland hallucination on the road would be -- bad.

Can Live In A Dumpster/Clean Freak: Well, it’s not exactly a dumpster, but yeah, easy for me to picture Smiler as the messiest of the lot. The kind to leave clothes on the floor and water bottles in odd places. :p

[envihellbender]

“Oh god, please don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead.” + Oswald/Victor

Fandom: Gotham

Characters: Oswald Cobblepot, Victor Zsasz

Victor was elated and calm when he left the docks, he’d found an empty warehouse to dump his latest victim. He couldn’t be bothered to do anything too special with her, she was just a quick fix as far as he was concerned. He switched his phone back on, and wasn’t surprised when he was greeted with missed calls and the text messages from Oswald. He’d been far too on edge when Victor left to meet his latest target.

He quickly flicked through them. They ranged from: When are you coming home to Are you done yet to a simple ???????? With an added When will you be back ??? Then there was a jealous: You can’t still be with her, followed by a Where the hell are you. Eventually Oswald turned demanding: Home. Now. And somewhere along the night he’d started to panic and sent: Please be safe please be safe, Oh god… Please don’t be dead, and finally: Please please please don’t be dead.

Victor typed in “calm down coming back now” and sighed as he clicked send. He hated that Oswald’s phone was so old, he enjoyed the immediate gratification of seeing if someone was typing. He slipped it back into his coat pocket and headed back home. He wondered what he’d come back to, Oswald was either drunk or a manic episode had occurred. The type where Oswald was intensely anxious and paranoid. Hopefully it would just be the alcohol, Victor thought, he hated Oswald’s habit but it would be gone by the morning at least.

As soon as Victor opened the front door he grimaced, he could smell it. The sour, bitter taste of red wine. It made his stomach turn and his brain try to remember things he did not want to remember. In the living room he found Oswald slumped over on the sofa with a large, almost full to the brim as he sipped it, glass.

“Honey, I’m home,” Victor joked from the doorway, Oswald flinched at the sudden noise and spilled wine over his arm and the carpet.

“Victor!” Oswald all but shouted, he clumsily got to his feet without his cane. He stumbled but caught himself on the sofa arm. “Where the hell have you been? What happened- why are you? What time is it?” He rambled groggily.

“Had a date. It’s 2am,” Victor shrugged. “Wanna maybe go easy on the booze, Os?” Victor slipped his coat from his shoulders and fell into a nearby armchair. He’s dressed far more casually then he does when on duty for Oswald in a t-shirt and jeans. Still black of course, excluding the blood stains. On his forearm is a freshly cut tally mark, screaming his night’s activities to anyone who saw him. Oswald’s hazel eyes fixated on it for a moment, staring at the deep, weeping cut. He picked up his glass and took a large gulp, he drank so much he grew dizzy. He pulled the glass away, spilling some wine down his chin and white shirt. He looked at it with a third left in it and threw it at the wall. Victor didn’t react to the smashing sound but raised his eyebrows at the red stain on the wall.

“That’s gonna be hard to get out.”

“I don’t care.”

“You will tomorrow.”

“Maybe I’ll just keep drinking then,” Oswald snapped. Victor’s eyes hardened and he stared as Oswald picked up the wine bottle and raised it to his lips.

“Put. It. Down.” Victor’s voice was sharp and fierce. It was so cold Oswald felt as if he’d just been slashed across the face with a broken bottle. He’d heard that voice before, it was the one Victor saved for his victims, or for fellow criminals who weren’t behaving. It wasn’t for Oswald, it wasn’t ever for Oswald. He swallowed and placed the bottle back on the table. Victor softened, his tense body relaxed, and he sighed in relief. He put his head back and closed his eyes. “Did you really think I was dead?”

“I… I don’t know. I pictured you under a car. With a bullet in your head. In a cell. With that woman. Maybe she fought back. I don’t know. Ugh. My head wouldn’t stop.”

“Wow, you think so highly of me. Do you really think I’d have been so easy to take out?”

“I didn’t say that,” Oswald whined. “I just… you’re mine. I don’t like letting go of you. I don’t like not having you near me. I don’t like other people touching you. I don’t like seeing you leave.”

“Well, that’s hot, actually,” Victor said, managing to break the tension. “You know, I can’t stop. You know that, right? If I don’t kill for so long-”

“I know. It’s fine. Once you’re back it’s fine. Sometimes I don’t care when you’re gone. You fuck them, then you kill them. Problem solved. But… I sometimes I get… like this,” Oswald rambled, his eyes started to get unfocused and half lidded as he swayed back and forth.

“Bed time,” Victor said jumping to his feet. He scrunched his nose as he approached Oswald, breathing through his mouth as he helped him to his feet.

“Just… don’t die, okay? Or leave me. Right?” He asked, he stumbled again and Victor picked him up into a bridal carry. Oswald buried his face into Victor’s chest, smirking as he smelt the familiar sweets and hospitals, with the added iron of blood.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

[katnissmellarkkk]

Oh I love this part ngl. I have the exact section right here but since I’m bored atm I’ll also annotate it for fun!

I want to ask them more, but lunch is announced. I look for Peeta, but he's hanging with a group of about ten other victors, so I decide just to eat with District 3. Maybe I can get Seeder to join us.

(Katniss being like “my fiancé is too popular for me, I guess I’ll just sit with the weirdos”)

When we make our way into the dining area, I see some of Peeta's gang have other ideas. They're dragging all the smaller tables to form one large table so that we all have to eat together. Now I don't know what to do. Even at school I used to avoid eating at a crowded table. Frankly, I'd probably have sat alone if Madge hadn't made a habit of joining me. I guess I'd have eaten with Gale except, being two grades apart, our lunch never fell at the same time.

(I love how Katniss just casually accepts and is content with the fact that they’ll be eating separate but Peeta’s group is like “nope” and she’s like “great 🙄 I’d rather have eaten without you at all than in a crowd, Peeta”. Also it’s my headcanon Peeta suggested dragging the tables together 😂 idk why)

I take a tray and start making my way around the food-laden carts that ring the room. Peeta catches up with me at the stew. “How's it going?”

“Good. Fine. I like the District Three victors,” I say. “Wiress and Beetee.”

“Really?” he asks. “They're something of a joke to the others.”

(Peeta : “babe, can you not bond with the weirdos please? Bad for my rep”)

“Why does that not surprise me?” I say. I think of how Peeta was always surrounded at school by a crowd of friends. It's amazing, really, that he ever took any notice of me except to think I was odd.

(Lolololol Katniss suddenly remembering she’s engaged to the prom king jock.)

“Johanna's nicknamed them Nuts and Volts,” he says. “I think she's Nuts and he's Volts.”

(Peep Peeta’s already budding friendship with Jojo)

“And so I'm stupid for thinking they might be useful. Because of something Johanna Mason said while she was oiling up her breasts for wrestling,” I retort.

(The last part is so unnecessary??? Like Katniss are you jealous??? Girlllll)

“Actually I think the nickname's been around for years. And I didn't mean that as an insult. I'm just sharing information,” he says.

“Well, Wiress and Beetee are smart. They invent things. They could tell by sight that a force field had been put up between us and the Gamemakers. And if we have to have allies, I want them.” I toss the ladle back in a pot of stew, splattering us both with the gravy.

(Katniss : “stop picking on my little weird old blorbo people!”)

“What are you so angry about?” Peeta asks, wiping the gravy from his shirtfront. “Because I teased you on the elevator? I'm sorry. I thought you would just laugh about it.”

(Peeta finally snapping lololol “what’s your problem, bro/babe” but for real, Katniss’ still being butthurt over the elevator scene is super relatable)

“Forget it,” I say with a shake of my head. “It's a lot of things.”

“Darius,” he says.

“Darius. The Games. Haymitch making us team up with the others,” I say.

(Not mentioned here but this part reminds me, I find it interesting that Katniss said the night before that “Darius and all the sadness towards him being made into an avox belongs to her and Gale and maybe Haymitch but not Peeta. Peeta doesn’t get to be upset because he didn’t know Darius that well because Peeta was a merchant kid.” Because after Mockjngjay, after Peeta is held captive with Darius and witnesses his and Lavinia’s brutal murders, I’d say Peeta is more connected to Darius than Katniss or Gale or Haymitch ever could be.)

“It can just be you and me, you know,” he says.

(Peeta : always can be counted on to charm her attitude away)

“I know. But maybe Haymitch is right,” I say. “Don't tell him I said so, but he usually is, where the Games are concerned.”

(“Let’s listen to Haymitch. Let’s not tell him we’re listening to him though.”)

“Well, you can have final say about our allies. But right now, I'm leaning toward Chaff and Seeder,” says Peeta.

(A little sidebar but I love how Katniss and Peeta both somehow separately grew a fondness for Seeder. They’re both attracted to good people. 🥹🤧 I mean, obviously. That’s how they found each other.)

“I'm okay with Seeder, not Chaff,” I say. “Not yet, anyway.”

“Come on and eat with him. I promise, I won't let him kiss you again,” says Peeta.

(Okay, on one hand, adorable how Peeta says he’ll protect her 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹. We love to see it. 🥰 On the other hand though, I always hated how Chaff kissed her that one time and no one, including Peeta, did anything about it? Or even said it wasn’t okay or it was creepy? Idk that’s one incident where I’m annoyed with even Peeta. Like babe, cute that you say you’ll protect her here but you didn’t last night??? Anyways, I digress)

There’s a lot of things that I love about the hunger games but one of them is that the main romance, at its core, is the ‘weird girl/cool guy who’s obsessed with her’ trope

[actualyuuri]

prompt: yuuri, yuri, and Viktor are shopping or something; someone flirts w/ yuuri, Viktor is jealous, yuri is rolling his eyes because "Viktor you're jealous and it's pathetic okay"

Pins & Coffee

length: 1.8k; rating: all ages

@anon how dare u leave me a prompt involving jealous!Victor when I am supposed to be studying (jk tyvm)

Read more of my fics here or leave me a prompt here!

“People actually buy these things?” Yurio sneers as he shifts through the small pile of pins by the checkout. “What are you even supposed to do with pins?”

“Pin things,” Victor answers simply.

He rolls his eyes. “Duh, but pin them to what? Like, clothes? I wouldn’t put anyof these on my clothes.”

Yuuri shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “I own pins.”

“Of course you do,” Yurio scoffs. He squints at the line in front of them. “How long is this gonna take? And why are there so many people here?”

“I’m not sure,” Victor notes. “Why don’t you wait in line while Yuuri and I keep shopping? Here’s some cash.”

“What?” Yurio asks, as Victor shoves the stacks of clothes and money into his arms and walks away. He glances over his shoulder at Yuuri, who glances between them, conflicted, before hurrying after Victor. “You two are not leaving me here.” He frowns at the person in front of him in line, then the person behind him. “Victor, come back here right now or I swear.”

“That was mean,” Yuuri says as he catches up to Victor, looking back at Yurio, who is fuming, the clothes piled up to his neck.

Victor shrugs. “He’ll get over it. Besides, we have a lot more shopping to do. I need more jeans. And Mila asked me to pick her up… Some sort of perfume.” He pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket and squints at the print. “Can you read this?”

Yuuri stands on the balls of his feet to try and get a better look. “Um, no, I can’t.”

“Well, I’ll text her,” he sighs. “But she said it’s at a store on the lower level, so let’s go.”

“What about Yurio?”

Victor shrugs. “He’ll be in line for a while. And we’ll text him, too.”

They get on the escalator, Yuuri leaning against the railing as they descend towards the lower level of the mall. They’re each holding several bags, and Victor wonders if Yuuri’s arms are starting to get tired. “It’s this way,” he says.

He turns a corner, and Yuuri turns too, except there’s a loud slam. Victor turns around to see Yuuri on the ground, the bags spilled in front of him and a man kneeling down, mumbling quick apologies in Russian and helping him gather his fallen items. And Yuuri gets up slowly, rubbing at his forehead, and then his eyes meet the man’s.

And they stare for a second.

And Victor hurries over.

“Are you okay?” Victor asks him.

Yuuri nods. “I’m fine.”

“You speak English?” the Russian man asks.

(Of course this man happens to speak English, Victor thinks.)

“Yeah,” Yuuri replies, offering a smile.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking.” He finishes piling Yuuri’s items back into his bags and picks them up for him by the handles. And he has muscular arms. Victor will admit that. But only from an objective perspective, of course. It’s not as though he’s attractive.

“No, no, I wasn’t looking,” Yuuri insists. He adds a thanks as he takes the bags.

“Let me buy you coffee,” the man says. Then he glances at Victor, as if, perchance, remembering his existence. “Both of you.”

Yuuri blushes and ducks his heads. “Oh, you really don’t have to.”

“You really don’t have to,” Victor agrees, licking his lips. He takes a step closer to Yuuri. Because this man’s intentions are becoming obvious. And the way his eyes lock onto Yuuri is becoming obvious. And as childish as it may seem, Victor doesn’t like it.

“I insist,” the stranger adds. “There’s a place right over here.”

Yuuri glances at Victor, then shrugs. “Okay, if you’re sure.”

Victor hates Yuuri’s kindness.

(No, he loves Yuuri’s kindness. He just happens to hate it in this very moment.)

The man buys them coffee. He starts talking to Yuuri. Yuuri talks back to him. And they’re laughing. “Did you hear that, Victor?” Yuuri asks him, a hint of concern in his eyes, which makes sense, probably, because Victor hasn’t heard a single word in the past three minutes.

“No, what is it?”

“Nothing,” Yuuri dismisses.

And the man is smiling at him.

Like they’re friends or something ridiculous like that.

(Yuuri is friendly, of course he’s friendly. But he’s also attractive. And sometimes friendliness and attractiveness can be a dangerous duo.)

“You two ditched me,” Yurio says as he walks up to them, shopping bags piled high. “And who’s this?”

“We bumped into each other in the mall, he offered to buy us coffee,” Yuuri explains. “Oh, I didn’t actually catch your name…”

“Alexei,” he answers, smiling. “And you’re…?”

“Yuuri.”

“Yuuri, that’s a nice name.”

Yuuri blushes.

(Victor hates it.)

(Because he has made Yuuri blush before on several occasions, and he prides himself on that. Because Yuuri looks unbelievably endearing when he blushes, and he ducks his head just like that, and sometimes he’ll touch his hair—yes, just like that. Except it’s not for Victor this time. Which is annoying. And unfair. Unfair for several reasons that he can’t think of right now, but that he is absolutely sure are present.)

“Your… Your name is nice too,” Yuuri tells him shyly.

Victor sees Yurio glance down at his phone and type out something. Then he feels his own phone buzz in his back pocket.

You’re pathetic.

He glares at Yurio and texts back. What?

Yurio doesn’t respond, just sits down at their table, setting his bags on the floor beside the chair. And then Alexei is asking Yuuri about something, and Yuuri tugs on the collar of his shirt, licking his lips as he stares at the table. Victor sees Alexei’s gaze lock onto the action and curses internally. He takes his phone back out and texts Yurio again. Do something.

Yurio raises an eyebrow at him from across the table. Yuuri and Alexei are too invested in their own conversation to notice either of them. And Yuuri doesn’t normally do well with strangers. Which is making this worse. Because this means that Alexei is quickly becoming more than a stranger. After all, they’re already on a first name basis. Why don’t they just get married? Oh, right, because Yuuri is engaged to Victor. To Victor. Victor begins coming up with a list of casual ways he could introduce their engagement to the conversation. 

Would you pay me? Yurio asks.

Fine.

Say please.

Please.

Yurio clears his throat. “I want to go home. Victor, take me home.”

Victor smiles internally, but sighs externally. “So early?” He laces his tone with fake disappointment.

“We need to get Mila’s perfume,” Yuuri points out.

“Then let’s get the perfume and leave,” Yurio says.

Yuuri smiles at Alexei. “It was nice meeting you.”

“It was nice meeting you too,” he says. “Would you… Do you have a phone?”

He nods. Takes it out of his pocket.

Victor can’t believe his eyes.

(Can’t believe them.)

Because Yuuri is giving his phone number to this man.

His fiancé, giving away his phone number.

No.

(No, no.)

(This can’t be happening.)

“We’ll have to keep in touch,” Alexei says, smiling brightly.

(Because who wouldn’t be smiling after receiving Yuuri’s phone number?)

Victor wants to wipe that smile off of his face as quickly as possible.

He takes Yuuri’s hand.

Laces their fingers.

Yuuri glances at him, surprised, lips parting.

Alexei looks surprised, too, and so does Yurio.

“Let’s go,” Victor says, smiling at Alexei. “Nice to meet you.”

Victor lets go of his hand a moment later, when they’re back in the crowded mall. He doesn’t want to, but he does. Yuuri still looks adorably confused, though, eyebrow shooting up towards his hairline. “What was that about?”

Yurio snickers. “I wonder.”

“What was what about?” Victor asks innocently.

Yuuri doesn’t answer, just enters the store and starts glancing around. “Did Mila text you back about the perfume?”

Before Victor can reply, Yuuri’s phone buzzes, and he takes it out of his pocket, smiling at the screen and typing something.

(Smiling at the screen.)

(Smiling.)

“Who are you texting?” Victor wonders. It’s a casual inquiry. Very casual. Just a question. An innocent question. Not weird in the slightest, no.

Yuuri glances up. “Oh, what?”

“Who… Who were you texting, just now?”

Yurio is face palming, out of Yuuri’s sight.

“Phichit,” Yuuri says. “He was just asking me to help him decide on an outfit.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?” he asks.

“Just… That’s… Well, did you help him?”

Yuuri nods slowly. “Um, yes.”

“That’s… Nice of you.”

Yurio interrupts, “Here’s Mila’s perfume. I know because it smells bad.”

They buy the perfume, then they’re walking towards the car. Yuuri is texting someone again. “Phichit, still?” Victor asks.

“No, Alexei just said hi. Just so that I’d have his number, too.”

“Right. So that you have his number too,” Victor repeats slowly. “That makes sense.”

Yuuri licks his lips. “You’ve been… You’re acting weird.”

“Am I? I didn’t notice.”

“Okay, both of you, stop walking.” Yurio blurts. “Victor is jealous that you gave that guy your number because he’s dumb, and you didn’t notice because you’re dumb. There. Better? Can we all act normal again?”

Yuuri gapes. “You were jealous? Why?”

Victor rubs the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t use the word jealous… I just…”

“He was jealous,” Yurio confirms before hurrying towards the car and getting in shotgun. Yuuri and Victor remain in the parking lot.

“I… He looked at you. A lot,” Victor explains lamely.

Yuuri bites the inside of his cheek. “He was just being friendly.”

He laughs, but it’s humorless. “No… Yuuri, he was flirting. You’re just too nice to notice.”

“I don’t… Really?”

Victor nods. “Really.”

“Well, I wasn’t interested in him, anyway,” Yuuri says, shrugging. “I’m interested in someone else.”

“Oh.”

“You sound surprised.”

“I just…”

“I do have a fiancé, you know.”

Victor stares.

Stares.

(For a while, probably.)

(His mouth is open, probably. His eyes are wide, probably. He looks like an idiot, probably.)

But he doesn’t care. Can’t bring himself to care.

“You’re saying…?”

Yuuri rolls his eyes and takes his hand, lacing their fingers once again. “Yes, I’m saying that I’m not going to cheat on my fiancé. Is that really so shocking?”

“But that’s implying that we’re… That…”

“That we’re together?” Yuuri suggests. “You didn’t think we were?”

“I wasn’t sure what you thought,” Victor points out. “I thought we were. I didn’t know if you thought the same.”

“Well I do,” he assures him. “So no need to be jealous, okay?”

Victor glances down at their joint hands.

Yurio sticks his head out of the car window. “How long is this going to take? Can’t you two just kiss already and get it over with?”

Yuuri does that blush thing again. Except it’s with Victor, this time, and it feels twice as good, makes his heart skip a beat. “Should we?” Victor suggests.

“Kiss?” Yuuri asks, surprised. “I mean, if you—”

(Victor kisses him.)

(Soft, warm, inviting.)

“Isn’t it sort of weird that Yurio is coaching us through our relationship?” Yuuri asks when they’ve pulled away, his forehead pressed against Victor’s.

“Probably. But it shows that he cares.”

Yurio growls. “I heard that! I do not care.”

“He’s lying,” Victor whispers, giving Yuuri a wink.

[spilledkauffie]

Third Time’s A Charm

Pairing: Roman Sionis x Female!Reader Word Count: 2.6k T/W: Smut / thigh riding, glove kink? choking  A/N: Clearing out my drafts. I am very aware Roman is kinda terrible, but Ewan is gorgeous so:

The club was as usual: alive with vibrant streaming lights, voices chattering, and a drone from the d.j.’s booth made the floor vibrate softly underfoot. Normally you didn’t like to make an appearance, much happier away from the deliriously drunk crowds, but you hadn’t seen Roman in three weeks- and two days. . . you didn’t mean to keep track, but you couldn’t help it. Even though he had promised to come up and see you immediately after the negotiations he had to conduct tonight, you couldn’t wait any longer knowing he was right downstairs.

Stepping into his favourite silk dress of yours, the one that fell just beneath the curve of your ass, with an open back, you paired it with heels, and decided to have a little fun— after all you did give him that strip tease over the phone while he was away. Confidently, but carefully, stepping down the stairs, you caught clear sight of his usual table. It looked like some fancy upcoming hotshot was pleading for protection. Roman looked bored, you could tell his mind was already elsewhere. Biting in your lip, you smiled. Skillfully making your way over to the bar, unseen, the bartender greeted you by your first name, knowing you well enough by now, everyone did. You asked him for a tray with a glass of Roman’s favourite drink.

“Ah, jeez,” the bartender started, fiddling with his fingers, slightly nervous, “I’d love to, but- but Mr. Sionis told me not to let you waitress anymore.”

You shifted your weight onto the other hip, quirking your lips, a little let down, but not exactly surprised that he’d told everyone but you about this new rule, “well...I promise nothing’s going to happen to you,” you leaned in whispering sincerely, knowing it was easy to be scared of disobeying an order from Roman, “I’m not really waitressing, per se, think of it as more of a social experiment I need to conduct.”

With promised security from you, the bartender tried to be casual, looking around, but he mainly kept an eye on Roman whilst making the drink and handing you the tray. You thanked him and slid a few rolled 20s his way with a wink. Checking your hair in a nearby hazy mirror, you sauntered over to Roman’s table. The guy sitting opposite from him was stretched nearly halfway across the table, hands clasped together, begging. Roman was busy watching the performance, paying little attention to the whining kid in front of him.

“A drink, Mr. Sionis?” You asked from behind him, in your best waitressing voice.

“Sure,” he sighed, so annoyed that he didn’t even look up to you, “I’ll have-”

“Already ordered,” you carefully handed him the glass, making sure that your fingers touched, even though his were covered with his usual black initialed gloves, “and sent by special delivery.”

Once the drink was out of your hand, you slipped your fingertips along the slit of bare skin showing, at the base of his gloves, as you turned, walking away. By the time Roman looked up, you were already halfway across the club. Avoiding a look back, you were confident you’d gotten his attention. Softly setting the tray on the bar and biting the inside of your lip, you tried to repress the giggle swelling in your throat. Leaning forward into the bar as you waited, keeping your back purposefully to him, some unwanted company found you. 

“Hey,” a stranger slurred beside you, slowly sliding in closer; he smelled like cheap cologne, “you wanna- shots, my place?”

Before you could answer: the whiskey glass you had just handed Roman was set forcefully between the two of you on the bar’s table top, a familiar gloved fist curled tightly around it. You flicked your eyes to look at the stranger for a moment, he suddenly seemed like a stray dog with his tail tucked between its legs. Returning your gaze forward, you straighten yourself up, knowing it was no longer your problem.

“Fuck off,” you heard Roman’s voice behind you, obviously aggravated; you couldn’t help feeling some sort of way with that being the first word you heard him say in person in weeks.

With the stranger gone, you suddenly felt cool leather touching your skin, starting at the base of your neck, Roman stroked a knuckle down your spine. Unable to ignore the tingling sensation spreading across your skin like settling champagne, you pushed back your shoulder blades and tilted your head, exposing the side of your neck to him. He took the opportunity, placing a linger kiss to your skin, you closed your eyes and sighed happily.

“Is that the perfume I sent you from Paris?” He breathed in the scent you had pressed onto your neck, his voice was just as erotic as you remembered it being. 

“I’ve worn it everyday since you sent it,” you admitted, opening your eyes as he removed his hand from you, setting it against the metal edge of the bar, locking you between him and the counter. You could feel his lips lingering, so close to your skin. Attempting to control your already erratic breathing, you tried to breathe slower.

He hummed, but it was more like a purr to you. Almost placing another kiss to your neck, he pulled back, making you exhale disappointed, “turn around,” he told you instead.

You slowly did as requested, finding yourself a matter of inches from him. He eyed you up and down, “now there’s the view I like,” he said, gaze shifting from your figure up to meet your eyes. You maintained eye contact best you could feeling a blush rising. He smirked, taking a sip from his glass, “not that you don’t look fucking fantastic from behind.”

You broke into a smile, but he turned serious, dipping down slightly, holding your jaw in his hand tenderly, “I thought I told you that you don’t need to waitress anymore.”

Before you could say anything he was raising a hand to point towards the bartender. You quickly placed your palms against his chest, “I wasn’t-” he looked back at you with interest, but still kept his hand up, “I wanted to see you,” you blinked a few times, looking down, “keep an eye on you. . . since it’s been so long. I asked him to help.”

“Oh,” he breathed, lowering his hand and waving Victor away, “is my little kitten jealous?”

Roman hooked a finger under your chin, tilting your head up, making you look up through your eyelashes at him. He swiped his thumb across your bottom lip, you smiled softly, loving how the gloves felt against you, smooth and cold. Sighing with a smile he looked down to your dress.

“I like this,” he leaned back to eye you over again, slipping two fingers underneath the thin strap resting on your shoulder.

“It’s your favourite,” you reminded him; sliding your hands off his chest, pressing yourself against him, “nothing but silk,” you whispered, kissing just under his ear, before you began placing needy kisses along his neck while you tried to subtly center yourself on top of one of his thighs.

“Not here,” he pulled back from you completely, “I want you all to myself,” seeing the bambi look in your eyes, he downed the last of his drink, “get your pretty ass up those stairs,” he said, whiskey still burning his throat as he spoke, “I’ll be right behind you.” 

You did as you were told, looking back half way up the stairs to see him talking with Victor, he was gesturing towards the poor soul that had dared to flirt with you. “Poor guy has no idea what’s coming,” you thought to yourself. Stepping back into the apartment alone, you weren’t sure if things were going to go according to the plan you had in mind. Sometimes he followed you, other times he was distracted by more business. But one thing was for certain, you realised just how much you had missed him and how he made you feel. You pressed your back against the wall, smiling to yourself.

“Now, that is a fucking perfect piece of art,” Roman said suddenly, drawing your attention to him as he locked the door and stepped over to a table, where he began taking one pair of gloves off, “now, I thought I told you I’d see you after negotiations?”

“I just missed you,” you smiled bashfully, “a lot.”

“Aww,” he smirked, glancing over to you whilst pulling on his white pair of gloves, he noticed the sharp inhale you took as you but your lip.

Continuing his walk to you from there he wrapped his arms around your frame, “baby, baby c’mere.”

You breathed in his cologne as he brought you closer, it was intoxicating. One hand traced down your spine, the other came to your jaw softly. Slipping his hand underneath the fabric of your dress, you felt him press against the small of your back. Inhaling sharply, your body naturally responded to his touch, pushing your chest against his. He had missed your body against his, he liked feeling your erratic breathing. 

“Show me,” he said against your neck, thumb teasingly stroking the base of your neck; he easily parted your legs with his knee, “step out of those heels and show me what you wanted downstairs.” 

You swallowed, meeting his gaze as he leaned back for a moment, “now,” he said, quirking an eyebrow.

Stepping one by one out of your heels, you softly kicked them away. Reaching your hands to the hem of your dress, you pulled it up a little to allow yourself more movement. Settling yourself atop his thigh, you placed your hands on his chest, you were desperate to feel some skin, but you weren't about to complain. Arching your back, you rocked your hips down against the slick fabric of his dress pants. 

“Good girl,” he mused, caressing your sides with his hands, feeling your body move, loving every inch of you.  

You were surprised how quickly it stimulated you. Pussy already throbbing after a few deep motions, you looked down, inhaling deeply trying to hold back a whimper, “oh no, no, no,” he chuckled, taking your jaw between his thumb and index finger carefully, “you look at me.”

You gave a small whine, making him smile. Determined to get more, you began unbuttoning his black dress shirt, you were happy enough when you reached halfway undone, allowing you enough room to spread your hands out against his chest, finally feeling his skin. You closed your eyes and bit in the corner of your lip, humming at the warmth.  

“Harder,” he sneered, voice rasping.

You pushed up on to your tiptoes so you could grind your hips higher on him. One hand disheveling his shift from the desperate attempts to feel every inch you could of his skin, you clasped a finger through his belt loop with your free hand and tugged him closer to you. He said nothing, just moved a hand to your neck again. Palming the small of your back, he helped with the adjustment of your movements and picked up the pace. Gasping, you lifted a leg to slide up the back of his. He could feel your fingernails trying to dig into his skin at the edge of his shoulder. There was a knotting sensation rising in your abdomen, building, and building, and building-

“Roman,” you sighed blissfully, tossing your head back, lips parting in anticipation of your orgasm.

Immediately he tightened his hand around your throat, “don’t” he stopped all motion, pushing your leg off of him, “don’t you fucking dare.” 

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to squeeze your legs shut too when he stepped back, but he was quicker, slipping a hand between your thighs in place of his knee. The leather was cold against the inside of your thighs, and he liked the way you shivered at his touch. He traced his hand slowly up your legs. With you twitching them together the back of his hand stroked one leg while the palm of his hand inched up the other. He gave your inner thigh a tighter grip and your body naturally jolted a little, making him chuckle at how sensitive you were for him. 

Tilting your head to look at him, he was inches away from your lips and you wanted to taste the alcohol on his. He gave you what you wanted, lips meeting yours with a passion. He was already nipping at the bottom of your lip when you practically screamed into the kiss as he pressed his fingers against your clit firmly. The coolness of the glove, the deep circular motion he was applying, for a moment you thought you’d lost yourself. You were suddenly reaching down to grasp hold of his wrist buried under the silk fabric, unsure if you could take more teasing after he had denied you your first orgasm. 

“Sweetheart,” Roman clicked his tongue at you, pressing teasingly soft circles against your clit,  “be good.”

You moved your hands away from his wrist shakily as you felt him continue his motions. As he returned to tasting your lips, you found yourself spreading your legs as he deepened the kiss. He teased you, barely gliding his middle finger along your slick folds. Feeling yourself become wetter by the minute, you let him swallow your moans, until he began trailing his ;ips down your neck.

“Are-are you gonna. . . gonna keep them on?” You asked, barely able to make a sentence, hands grasping his biceps for support.

 He nuzzled your neck, kissing it once more, “I know how you like it.”

You could feel how your pussy was pulsing for him now and he had you right where he wanted you. With a gentle push, two of his gloved fingers swiftly slid inside you, all at once it was your heat met by the cool material. After the first few pumps, you could feel his fingernails through the fabric against your walls with how tight his gloves were now that they were slightly wet. 

“Roman!” you screamed.

He used his free hand to cover your mouth, “shh, babygirl” he hushed, fingers deep inside you, your slick making it easier with each thrust. He felt you moan against his hand and watched your eyelids flutter. You suddenly put a hand around his wrist and guided it down to your neck. He brought you closer to him, lips pressing a kiss to your forehead as he tightened his grip. He could feel your breath against the base of his neck, your lips grazing against his skin.

“Fuck- Roman,” you mused, shakily dragging a hand up to push back his dirty blonde hair, combing it between your fingers, “right there, Darling.” 

He pumped his fingers deep and hard. Giving an occasional repressed whine, you stood on your tiptoes, attempting to get a new angle. Parting your lips against his neck, you kissed him while you still had your wits about you. But when you felt him curl his fingers inside you, it made your jaw drop completely, and chest heave. Feeling your thighs beginning to tremble, he removed his fingers from you, just in time.

“Shit,” you whimpered at the loss of pleasure again, leaving you shaking and desperately clinging to him, “Roman-”

“Hmm,” he softly chuckled, but there was slight sympathy, “I’ve put you through it,” you looked up, to meet his stare, mascara smudged from when you had almost been brought to the bring, but denied, “tell me what you really want, babygirl.”

“I want you to fuck me,” you admitted, stealing a kiss of your own. You pulled him to you by the lapels of his velvet jacket, he braced himself against the wall behind you with both hands. You ground your hips against his, unabashedly forcing the kiss to be deeper.

“So needy,” he said, with a chuckle, your lips still touching his.

“Roman,” you whined, eyebrows furrowing.

“Alright, you know what they say,” he pressed his thumb against your lip, stroking back and forth, “third time’s a charm.” 

[r3almellow]

Trust Me (Gavin x Mia!OC Commission Fic)

I was commissioned to do a jealousy fic for Gavin and MC with our favorite CEO being the root of the problem! So glad that I finally have this piece done! When it comes to Gavin, you guys know I think he’s the KING OF JEALOUSY. Like I feel like he’d be so petty towards whoever he thinks is trying to still his girl away. This was a welcomed challenge for me because I get to kind of tap into Gavin and his relationship with MC in a more angsty filled way! Thank you my precious anon for commissioning this fic to be done. I truly hope its to your liking. 

Words: 4K

Notes: MC’s name in this fic will be Mia per the request of my dear anon. Because this story is kinda long I put most of it under the cut. 

Warning: NSFW 

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Gavin scowled at his phone, reading the text message he had just received for what felt like the tenth time. 

Mia @ 6:16: Working late tonight. I’ll call you on my way home! Love you!

This wasn’t the first time Mia, Gavin’s girlfriend, had sent a text like this in a span of three weeks. She had been working a lot lately, spending most of her time at the office. It was only recently she had gotten promoted which meant she would be working very closely with the CEO of LFG, Victor Li. Gavin would be a liar if he said he wasn’t feeling a little jealous, but could anyone blame him? Victor Li was a man who built an empire at a young age, had the money, the accomplishments, and sex appeal most in his field dreamed of having. Any woman would be lucky to have him. 

Gavin wasn’t the type to compare himself to other men. He was content with how he lived his life and while he wasn’t as well off as the prestigious investor, Gavin lived in a nice apartment with his plants and girlfriend. A simple and humble lifestyle for a simple and humble guy.  His only hope was that what he had was enough for Mia. Of course, he wanted to pamper her and give her the world because that’s the kind of love she deserved, but that was sometimes easier said than done. 

“You might burn a hole in your phone if you keep glaring at it like that.” Gavin’s expression didn’t change as he looked up at the person who dared to interrupt him when he was supposed to be working.

Eli, who was immune to Gavin’s deadly gaze after years of working together, casually sat in the chair across from him with a knowing smirk.

“Let me guess…your girl working another late night with her boss?” 

Gavin didn’t answer, only tossing his phone to the side to resume filling out the mission report he had ignored for the past twenty minutes. 

“Isn’t this like the third time this week?” Gavin couldn’t help but grip the pen in his hand tightly at the question. More like the 8th time in almost a month. Gavin hated feeling this way, but the fact that he hasn’t spent any quality time with his girlfriend was starting to eat at him. 

It’s been two months since they had moved in together and yet they had barely had time for one another. He knew how demanding her job was with this new promotion and he was barely home as it is with his own job, but the moments they actually spent together these days felt nonexistent. He’d come home to her already fast asleep or on days he had off she’d be gone for most of the day swamped with paperwork and meetings. Now he was getting “I’ll be late” texts from her more often than he would like. 

Eli leaned back in his chair to observe his friend. “You remember that one woman I was talking to? The cute barista? Ah..she was really cute. The dates were great and the sex? Let me tell you the sex wa-”

“Your point?” Gavin really wasn’t in the mood to hear Eli go down memory lane about one of the many women he had taken to bed. Eli was a good guy, but his taste in women was sometimes questionable to say the least. 

“Patience, my dear agent. Anyways, remember she broke things off with me a few months back, claiming that she wasn’t ‘looking for a relationship’? Just the other day I found out she’s engaged to some Italian businessman! Can you believe that?” 

Gavin wasn’t a fool to misunderstand the implications behind Eli’s story, but before he reacted he wanted Eli to explain himself. 

“What are you saying?” Gavin leaned back in his chair with folded arms, his voice seeping venom. Eli knew better than to speak ill of Mia in any way, especially in Gavin’s presence. Whatever was about to come out of Eli’s mouth next would determine whether or not he would leave this room with all his teeth intact. 

Eli sat there unphased.

“Relax! Mia’s a total sweetheart, but a single rich businessman like him might want to take advantage of that fact. I’m just saying a cute innocent office worker willing to do anything they can to help their company might be right up his alley.” 

If this was Eli’s way of soothing the raging beast that was slipping through the cracks of the wall Gavin strategicly built to prevent himself from ending up in jail for murder then his so called friend was doing a really crappy job. 

Gavin didn’t doubt that Mia loved him with every fiber of her being, but he couldn’t stop that nagging feeling that the time she spent with the super successful businessman would entice her in some way. She’d never cheat. No. But…her leaving Gavin for someone who could probably pull Rolls-Royce out of their ass and take her on expensive trips every week if she desired, could be a possibility. 

As if Eli could feel the dread radiating off his unhappy partner he spoke again this time with a little more compassion.

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up over it! I’m sure Mia’s not being charmed by her crazy rich and super hot boss.” It was official, Eli sucked at pep-talks.

“I swear I’m going to punch you if you say one mor-” Eli put his hands up signifying he was backing off from the subject.

“No need to be so violent! Come on, why don’t we go grab a few drinks and hang! Meet you outside the locker room in ten minutes?” Gavin was ready to decline the offer not wanting to be in Eli’s presence at the moment, but he also didn’t want to go home to an empty apartment reminded of the fact that Mia was spending more time with her boss than she was with him.

Maybe a drink wouldn’t hurt.

~

One drink quickly turned into five so by the end of his night out with Eli it was safe to say Gavin was a little buzzed. He was good enough to make his way home, but two more bottles of beer would’ve definitely sealed his fate.

The journey home wasn’t too bad aside from the rain he had to deal with halfway into his trip. That was probably one of the downsides to using his trusty motorcycle, Sparky, on a daily basis. There was always a possibility of rain and with rain it sometimes led to him being completely drenched. Luckily he was sheltered by his leather jacket and biker helmet. He was even luckier when the pouring rain turned into a light drizzle by the time he got home. 

Parking his motorcycle he pulled out his phone to check it. He hoped Mia had gotten home before the rain started, but the five missed calls and three text messages from Mia might have proven otherwise.

Mia @ 9:30pm: Hey! I’m not sure if you’re still working, but it looks like it's going to rain! I’m going to run to the store to pick up a few things and head home before the rain starts. Be safe!

Mia @ 10:15: Totally missed the bus and now I’m soaking wet! I’m going to try to get a taxi!

Mia @ 10:45: Made it home safely! I hope you’re okay! Please, call me when you can! 

Gavin checked the time realizing her last message was sent a few minutes ago. He mentally kicked himself for having his phone on silent. He didn’t even remember turning the ringer off on the stupid thing. 

He sent back a quick text confirming his arrival and heaved out a frustrated sigh. He shoved the phone into his pocket and made his way to the doors of the apartment building. When the front doors came into view a well dressed figure standing in the way caught his attention. 

A tall man with jet black hair who was holding an umbrella, stood by the entrance completely engrossed with his phone, texting whosoever at rapid speed. The slightly open long black coat he wore gave Gavin just enough view of the business suit that laid underneath. He looked important. Too important to be waiting outside an apartment building in the rain. 

As if feeling the impending presence the man looked up and their eyes locked for a few seconds. The raven haired man’s expression was filled with annoyance. But he quickly relaxed, probably realizing Gavin wasn’t the type to be intimidated by his stare.

“My apologies.” Was all the man said before stepping to the side to give Gavin passage, holding up the phone he was aggressively tapping against, to his ear.

“Goldman, I see the Milan meeting was rescheduled to tomorrow morning instead of the 15th. Who approved this change?” His voice was almost authoritarian like as he gave whoever this “Goldman” was an earful. Yeah, he was definitely important. 

Gavin didn’t spend too much time thinking about the brief encounter. The person who was actually worth his time was waiting for him and she was more important. 

When he got into the apartment he found Mia coming out of the bathroom in only a large tshirt and a towel on her shoulders.  

“Baby!” Mia happily walked up to him with a huge smile on her face. Gavin smiled back as he shrugged off his jacket just in time to catch her in a tight hug. Gavin breathed in the sweet scent of the soap she used and sighed happily. There was something rewarding about coming home to Mia after almost a full day of working. He was able to leave all the stress behind the minute he had her in his arms.

“I was starting to get worried when you didn’t answer my calls.” Mia pouted. He loved when she pouted like that. She looked so adorable and it made her lips look extremely kissable. 

He planted a quick kiss against her lips and gave her an apologetic look. 

“Sorry, my ringer was off. I would’ve been home sooner if Eli didn’t drag me out for drinks. You didn’t have too much trouble getting home, did you?” 

Mia shook her head, removing herself from his arms. He watched as she made her way into the kitchen most likely trying to find something to eat. 

“Aside from missing the bus? Nope! My boss just so happened to be in the area and took me home.” Gavin was halfway through taking off his shoes when her words forced him to stop. 

“Your boss took you home?” He didn’t mean for his question to be filled with so much irritation, he really tried to mask it but the thought of Mia having to rely on someone else to insure her safety made his blood boil. 

“Yeah! He saw me trying to hail a taxi and offered me a ride!” Gavin’s body tensed. Was that the guy he saw outside? 

His expression grew dark. Why did that guy feel the need to take her home? Was it the gentlemanly thing to do? Or did he have other intentions for his precious Mia? Whatever the reason it left a bad taste in Gavin’s mouth. 

“I should’ve picked you up.” Gavin responded flatly.

Mia only smiled as if trying to cheer him up.

“It’s okay! Victor insisted on taking me home. I thought it was going to be super awkward but we had a pretty nice conversation. He thanked me for all my hardwork and even joked that my Christmas bonus would be enough to get me a car.” She laughed. Gavin didn’t laugh, not even a smile graced his lips. 

“You two are on a first name basis now?” 

She laughed sheepishly completely unaware of the ticking time bomb before her. “Oh! I-I…well since we’ve been spending so much time together we…” 

Mia trailed off, probably noticing the muscles in Gavin’s jaw tensing up and how his face became completely unreadable. In a matter of seconds she was in front of him again, lightly touching his arm.

“Hey, honey, are you okay?” She was worried about him and even so, Gavin didn’t feel at ease at all. 

“I just don’t understand why you have to spend all this time with him.” He probably sounded like a jealous child craving his mother’s attention but at that moment he didn’t care. 

Mia only shrugged, still not understanding what had gotten Gavin so riled up.

“Well with my current position I kind of have to.”

Gavin’s lips twisted into a deep frown. “Doesn’t he have an assistant for all this? All these late night hours and for what?” 

Mia crossed her arms, a confused look highlighting her face as if realizing this was becoming an issue. 

“Gavin, his assistant can’t do what I can.” 

“I bet they can’t…” Gavin mumbled. There was a part of him that hoped she didn’t hear him, but luck was not on his side. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Her eyes narrowed. He debated for a split second on saying anything, wondering if it made sense to disclose what’s been plaguing his mind for weeks.  

“It doesn’t matter. Not like things are going to change anyway.” He tried to walk past her, the couch in the living room calling out to him like it was a safe haven, but she blocked his path. He should’ve known her stubbornness wasn’t going to let this go. 

“What’s the problem? Your attitude changes the minute I start talking about work and suddenly you want to brush thi-” 

“The problem is, you’ve been spending so much time at work that I can’t help but think that…” Gavin stopped himself. What exactly did he think? He never really thought it out completely. 

It didn’t take Mia long to figure out what he was implying. Her expression turned serious as she took a few steps back to look at him.

“That what? That I’m cheating on you with my boss?” When she spoke it was like pounds of guilt fell on top of him. Just the idea of his Mia being in the arms of some well-off pompous jerk pissed him off, but what did that say about Mia? Not once did Gavin think so lowly of Mia to do such a thing, but it would take two to tango. However, he would never….fuck… This wasn’t Gavin’s intention at all.  

“I-I didn’t say that.” 

“No, but that’s what you’re thinking. You’ve been thinking that I’d rather spend my nights screwing my boss than being with my boyfriend who, let us not forget, spends days or sometimes weeks at a time away from home.” 

She had a point there, but it wasn’t his fault that his job was so demanding.

“Mia, that’s not fair. I-” Poor choice of words. Gavin could see the building anger in Mia’s eyes. 

“Fair? You want to talk about fair? Every time you left on some dangerous mission, not once did I ever think that another person would come along and take you away from me. Some bad guy with a thirst for violence, maybe. Or someone with itchy trigger fingers get..getting you right between…the eyes.” Her voice broke towards the end and it was at that moment Gavin realized just how much of an idiot he was. 

If there was one thing he hated in this world it was to see Mia cry and to know that he was the reason for her tears, absolutely devastated him. He reached out to touch her to let her know that it wasn't his intention to hurt her like this, but she immediately pulled away. His hand shrinked back to his side.

“Since we’ve been living together, I’ve spent countless nights in bed alone, worried out of my mind because the person I love more than anything was out there risking his life almost everyday! But I supported you and I will always support you… Why? Because I love you. I love you so damn much! And for you to…to even insinuate that I would ever…” The tears she had fought back now streamed down her cheeks, her lips quivering and face fighting to stop itself from contorting into something that would rip Gavin’s heart a part. 

“Mia…” He tried again, but she held up a hand to stop him. 

“I’m going to bed.” Her voice was monotonous as if all the life had been sucked out of her. She turned away from him, marching right into their shared bedroom. The door closed with a soft click. Not even a slam. This was bad. 

Gavin was left standing there unsure of what to do. Maybe waiting until tomorrow to talk was a better idea. He could take the couch to give her space, but Gavin knew in his heart that he couldn’t let this sit until morning. He didn’t like the idea of going to bed with issues unresolved and he sure as hell didn’t like knowing that Mia was crying her eyes out because of how much of an idiot he was. 

He had to make this right. 

When Gavin entered the room he found Mia curled up in bed, her back facing the door. The sound of her sniffles were so hard to hear and he had no one to blame but himself for that.

Carefully, he got into bed and slowly inched his way over to her side. When she made no effort to move away he took it as an opportunity to hold her, not too tight in case she wanted to get away from him, but tight enough for her to know that he wasn’t going anywhere. He honestly didn’t think he’d make it this far, but he wasn’t going to count his blessings just yet. 

As the seconds ticked by Gavin grew hesitant in the deafening silence, unsure of how to express his sincerest apology. Expressing himself through words really wasn’t his strong suit, but he had to try. 

With a soft sigh he began speaking. 

“Mia, I’m sorry…I…” He paused, trying to piece together the right words. 

“I didn’t mean to accuse you of anything. I swear to you that I would never suggest that you would ever do something like that. I…” He stopped himself for a second and tightened his hold on her, burying his face in her hair. He inhaled and let out a shaky breath before continuing.

“I should’ve realized that this is just as hard on you as it is on me and I know I’m a complete asshole and I just…I just want to be good enough for you. I want to do everything I can to make you happy and I don’t want to screw this up. Having you in my life means more to me than you’ll ever know and I know I don’t show it often, but I’m grateful that you’re with me. I really am. I don’t want this to be what separates us. So please…talk to me.” There was so much more he wanted to say, but if he continued any further he was sure he’d be a rambling mess. 

Mia shifted slightly in his hold before abruptly sitting up and looking at him with puffy red eyes. It took everything in his power for Gavin to not reach out to touch her for fear that it would make matters worse. 

He made an effort to sit up with her, but was immediately stopped by Mia burying her face into his chest. Gavin laid there stunned for a brief moment before finally putting his arms around her. 

“You’re an idiot.” He heard her muffled words and released a breath he didn’t know he was holding. This was a step in the right direction. 

“I know…” He chuckled bitterly.

Mia sighed heavily and looked up at him. Gavin took this as an opportunity to gently stroke her cheek, wiping away the stray tears. Mia leaned into his touch impulsively. 

“I need you to trust me like I trust you.” Her voice was hoarse but firm. 

“I do! I trust you with everything! With my life and with...with my heart.” It was true. He’d trust Mia with his very soul if it were possible. 

“Then trust me when I say you’re all I’ve ever wanted and this life we share together is one I would never give up for anything in the world. You’re all I need. And if I’m doing something that ever makes you feel less than enough then I need you to tell me.” 

He was ready to refute her words, wanting to assure her that she could never make him feel that way, but she wasn’t going to let that happen.

“Promise me.” She said sternly.

“I promise.” 

She seemed pleased with his answer and lightly brushed her lips against his. Not exactly giving him the satisfaction of feeling her lips against his own, but Gavin was in no position to complain. 

“I’m still mad at you…” She repeated her affectionate touch this time giving him a firm but quick kiss. 

“That’s okay. I deserve it.” Another kiss lasting seconds longer than the first. Mia skillfully slid her hand under his shirt, the pads of her fingertips immediately coming into contact with his toned abs. It was clear exactly what she wanted and who was Gavin to deny the unspoken request? 

“You do.” 

This time it was he who initiated the kiss, their lips molding together perfectly. 

It was only a matter of time before Gavin had her under him, clothes discarded, their bodies finally surrounding themselves in each other's warmth. Gavin lost count of how many kisses he left along Mia’s beautiful body, but no matter the number he wanted her to know-to feel how much he wanted to worship her. 

His calloused hands glided along every dip and curve, already having his favorites spots etched to memory. His lips latched onto one of her nipples lightly sucking on the sensitive bud. Mia instinctively arched her back wanting more of her lover’s ministrations. 

Gavin teasingly tugged on her hardened nipple with his teeth, which earned him a surprised gasp, before kissing down her torso. Lower and lower his lips went until he found himself in between her legs. 

He was so close. 

The heat radiating from her was so inviting, like it was a place he could see himself nuzzled up against for the rest of his days in pure comfort. To be perfectly honest, if he could spend the rest of his life with his face buried between her legs he’d never complain and take on the task of pleasuring her as an honor. 

Mia’s hands gripped his hair gently, tugging at his messy tresses, coaxing him to continue. 

That was all he needed to descend upon her waiting heat like a man yearning for the only thing that could quench his thirst. 

He firmly gripped her hips to keep her still as he gingerly sucked on her clit. Mia tried to roll her hips begging for more contact but his hold on her made it difficult. He was hellbent on selfishly having his fill undisturbed.

With the flick of his tongue she sang for him a tune so lewd, so intoxicating, so mesmerizing, he couldn’t help but want to hear more. 

“Gav, I…I-ah!” Her thighs closed around his head, trapping him as if he would ever escape. He could practically taste how close she was. 

She was trembling. 

So close. 

“Ba-baby…” She moaned for him.

He groaned into her as a response, his focus never leaving his meal. Seconds later he felt her hand rest upon the top of his head, pushing him away. But why? Was she really going to deny him the pleasure of making her reach an orgasm? Was this punishment?

He rose from his position and blinked back a questionable look. He must’ve looked so disheveled with his face covered in her juices and hair tossed in different directions, but he honestly didn’t care. He was starving. He needed to have her. 

Mia sat up and beckoned for him to come forward with a finger, drawing him into a kiss so passionate it almost left him breathless. 

“Let me ride you…” She whispered against his lips. 

Gavin could barely think to answer; he was more focused on her hand that snuck their way down his chest inching closer and closer to his throbbing shaft. 

“But this is about yo-” His breath hitched at the feeling of Mia’s hands firmly gripping his cock. She stroked him once before giving him a chaste kiss. 

“Exactly and I…wanna ride you.”

She was toying with him now and like a lovestruck puppy he let her. 

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AND SCENE! What did you guys think? I really hope everyone likes the story! If you would like to commission me please send me a message and we can talk! If you want to read more of my MLQC stuff please check out my masterpost! 

[officialscaramouche]

Hanahaki — a gift for @ambers-glider

Pairing: Scaramouche x Gn!Reader

Summary: Scaramouche caught a love sickness that could only be cured by mutual love.

AN: please read @ambers-glider ‘s part one and two before reading this so that it makes sense :)

Warnings: language

Word count: 1,691

Scaramouche felt bad for you. It was by pure coincidence that he saw you when you caught sight of Victor and his girlfriend. He saw the way your face dropped when she clung to his arm and he sympathized for you. But it was your fault anyway. Everyone knew Victor had a girlfriend, but since you were always cooped up in your office I guess it couldn’t be helped.

Noticing the way your personality had changed, Scaramouche actually kind of liked it. You weren’t annoyingly upbeat and overly friendly like before, so he found himself visiting your office more. He enjoyed the silence the two of you shared, even if he wasn’t always welcomed.

Childe would unfortunately come in every now and then to check in on you especially after finding out that Scaramouche often hung out in your office. And when he did, the two of you would talk briefly about mindless things. Scaramouche didn’t understand why it mattered to talk about stupid things like the weather, or what you were having for lunch.

Scaramouche walked into your room a little more forcefully than normal. At first he didn’t say anything, especially after you told him you wanted to be alone. But after sitting on the couch there for a while, reading the book he brought to work, he broke the silence. “What are your plans for today?” He asked casually, not taking his eyes off his book.

You looked at him incredulously. Was he seriously trying to have small talk with you? “...Nothing. After work, I have to do laundry.”

It was silent once more, this time a bit more awkward than it usually was. He shut his book and hummed, standing to stare at you from the other side of your desk. “Would you like to join me at Third Round Knockout?”

You leaned back in your chair to look up at him closely. What was his deal? What point does he want to make with bothering you for lunch? At least he asked you now, after getting over your sickness, rather than before when you would’ve jumped at the idea. You couldn’t deny your curiosity, however. “Are you paying?”

Scaramouche scowled. “I guess I am.”

It was weird sitting at an intimately small table with your boss. But it also had been a while since anyone had taken you out. Scaramouche didn’t eat out much, but it was your favorite restaurant. He asked for your opinion on some foods, but once the waiter took your orders, it was challenging to find something to talk about. You stared out a window until he finally broke the silence. “It’s good that you’re feeling better,” he said plainly.

“Thanks, I guess,” you responded curtly.

The both of you decided that instead of forcing conversation, you’d just sit in uncomfortable silence. After a while, Scaramouche coughed awkwardly into a fist and excused himself from the table. On the way there, the itch in his throat began to grow itchier and itchier until he slammed the bathroom door open and hung his head over the sink, his fingers grasping desperately at the edges. He scratched at his throat as he continued to hack, tears beginning to well in his eyes as he struggled to find relief in his coughs. Finally, whatever was caught in his throat came up and he spat it into the sink, the purple petal coated in his saliva falling helplessly before him. “You’ve gotta be fucking with me— ackh!” His cough grew more and more persistent as petals came spilling from his lips. He slapped his hands onto his cheeks and screamed. “What the fuck!!”

His shout was heard by the entire restaurant. People looked around nervously, some of them at you remembering that he was with you. You laughed in embarrassment, tentatively walking to the bathrooms to make sure he was okay.

A couple of men scrambled out of the restroom as you approached, making side comments about Scaramouche. “What the hell is his problem?” One of them mutters.

You knock before entering, announcing yourself as you push the door open. “Sir, it’s me, are you okay?”

He stared at himself in the mirror, hunched over the sink, with spit dribbling down his chin. “Get out.” He spits, a couple of weak coughs puffing out of his cheeks.

“Oh,” you breathe, noticing the sink full of petals. “Oh, sir I’m sorry,” you walk over to him and begin washing the petals down the sink. “We need to get you looked at quickly!”

“No!” He shoved you away, hating to admit that his heart was pounding when your hands held his shoulders. “I don’t want to be fucking operated on!”

“It’s okay!” You reassure, pulling him up from the sink. “The reason why...I was so upset about Victor is because he made me fall in love with him. To get over someone else…” Scaramouche closed his eyes to focus on curving the coughs. ...And to listen to your voice. “I know I’m not the best to look at, but I can try to help.”

Scaramouche couldn’t help but to smile at your innocence. How were you going to help? You were the problem! “...You’re right you’re not attractive at all.” You furrowed your brows and put your hands to your hips. He laughed at your expression. “Fine. You can try to help me.”

He was setting himself up for failure, he knew that. But seeing you try so hard to figure out the type of person he liked was amusing to him. One day you were doting, cooking for him and making sure he drank water. But then the next you were neglectful, thinking that maybe he didn’t like someone who doted on him. You tried being clingy, you tried playing hard to get. You tried cleaning his house, you tried making it filthy. Nothing seemed to be working since he coughed up more and more petals everyday, but as he lay there feeling the life drain out of him with every cough, he seemed to feel pretty happy in his final days.

Soon enough, he was too weak to even open his eyes. You tucked the blanket snugly around him and exchanged the cool towel on his forehead. “Please let me tell Childe,” you whispered.

He scowled, amazingly mustering enough energy to do so, and coughed. “No,” he said weakly. “I don’t want— ackh— anyone to cut me open.”

“I’ll cut you open myself!” You joked, pulling at the shirt he wore.

“I’d let you,” he smiled. He figured that if he was to die today, he might as well tell you how he felt. “You’re so dumb, [Y/N]. But that’s what I like about you. You work so hard no matter what you’re doing. Whether it’s paperwork or watching over me...you give it your all.” You blinked at him, trying to process his words. “Maybe if I had been a little nicer to you...I wouldn’t be lying here dying. Maybe we’d actually have been in love.”

“What are you saying?” You ask dumbfoundedly, your hands shaking where they lay on the bed.

“These stupid petals, [Y/N], they’re for you.”

It took you a moment to understand what he was saying so clearly as day. The man you had nearly died for, now lay dying for you. You spent almost two months suffering because he had not cared about you and now he spent these last two months suffering. But you suffered alone. This time, Scaramouche was suffering with you right by his side.

“I...I don’t know what to say.” You said finally.

Scaramouche turned over to lay on his side, facing his back toward you. “That’s alright. You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted to let you know, that way I would die without regret.”

“No, sir, you don’t understand.” You swallowed the lump in your throat to muster up the courage.

Scaramouche began to feel relief as he lay there. These are my last few minutes, he thought to himself. His body grew too weak to cough. At least, he figured, he’d die without coughing his lungs out.

You fiddle with your fingers and hyped yourself up to admit why you were sick in the first place. “Scaramouche...the reason I was sick...was because I loved you.”

Scaramouche was too weak to cough. So he should’ve been too weak to sit up. He sat up with such vigor, turning to look at you. He had been laying in bed for four days now, unable to sit up. Yet here he was, looking at you. The itch in his throat ceased. He didn’t stop coughing because he was weak. He stopped coughing because you returned his feelings.

Soon, the pink in his lips began to reappear. The color in his cheeks flushed, and his body aches seemingly disappeared. He tentatively reached forward, afraid that he had died and gone to celestia. This was a dream, this wasn’t real.

He cupped your cheek and caressed the skin there with his thumb. You held the hand on your face and leaned into the contact. All these months you had been suppressing your love for Scaramouche.

You didn’t want to be sick again. You forced your love onto Victor and latched on intensely so as to move on. But you didn’t know that while you were loving Victor, Scaramouche had been loving you. Watching you laugh and cling to Victor made him jealous. Jealous and possessive. When you recovered he wanted to spend as much time with you as he could. He wanted to learn more about you, talk to you, see the smile you used to give Victor. He wanted to see that smile and he wanted to make you his.

“You love me?” He asked barely over a whisper.

“I don't know why, but yes,” you joked with a laugh, a bright smile spread across your lips.

Scaramouche smiled too, albeit very little, but still a smile. The harbinger, and now your new boyfriend, promised himself that he’d protect that smile. Especially from Victor. “Good. You’re all mine.”

[irenespring]

District Two Victor Sims

@lorata​ I made some sims of your Victors! I don’t have a ton of CC clothes so there were limited options but I think they’re pretty good. I’m going to put them in order of most recent to oldest. I hope you like them!

Outfits order: everyday, formal, sports, sleep, party, swimsuit, hot weather, cold weather

Petra:

Traits: Hot-headed, active, perfectionist

Aspiration: Leader of the Pack

Notes: She doesn’t dress overly feminine but she thinks Lyme is overdoing a little (*cough* a lot *cough*). She hates that pink dress but what the Capitol wants, the Capitol gets. She’s not hot-headed, she just doesn’t take shit. What’s so difficult to understand about that? Whatever.

Claudius:

Traits: Gloomy, creative, music lover

Aspiration: Musical genius

Lyme gave him one of her suits (after she had it tailored to fit him). It was kind of the best day of his life. Misha is a liar, he did not cry for 12 hours straight... more like .5 hours. And that’s just fine, and if you want to say otherwise just give him a moment to go grab his sword.

Enobaria:

Traits: Mean, erratic, self-absorbed

Aspiration: Public enemy

When she’s at home, she wants to wear as close to a blanket nest as she’s allowed. When she’s not... well, she’s got abs and likes to inspire envy. Also the more Capitol guys ask her out, the more fun it is to shoot them down and/or threaten to kill them.

Devon:

Traits: Outgoing, romantic, goofball

Aspiration: Friend of the world

One of his favorite things about being a Victor that he didn’t expect was getting to experiment with different styles. But the swimsuit is pure strategy for when he doesn’t feel like talking but still wants to get laid.

Artemisia:

Traits: Mean, romantic, goofball

Aspiration: Chief of mischief

Only idiots rely on one style (except for Lyme, like is scary and masculine and awesome), because honestly it’s just *so* boring. She can do ball gowns, she can do bikinis, she can do casual “I will never leave this couch” sweaters. It’s not hard, but maybe she’s just special (she’s definitely special).

Lyme:

Traits: Good, self-assured, hates children

Aspiration: Neighborhood confidante

Dresses are ick and bright colors give her headaches. Besides, if someone is judging her for her style she doesn’t want to know them anyway. Shallow assholes. 

“Brutus stole my sponsor party outfit. It was mine, and he was so jealous of the pure masculine energy that he decided to steal it and lie about it like a little baby coward. The only thing stopping me from covering the village with fliers is that Ronan would be annoyed and Misha never cares about context.”

Emory:

Traits: Unflirty, good, loves the outdoors

Aspiration: Master chef

If something tears and it can’t be mended, it has to be replaced. And if you spill something on your shirt you can’t just show up to a nice event like a Twelve. Also, apparently you can’t wear tennis shoes to everything. Therefore, multiple outfits.

Brutus:

Traits: Self-assured, outgoing, loves the outdoors.

Aspiration: Bodybuilder (sorry for the copout I was stumped)

Fancy clothes are for Capitolites so he only wears them when he’s in the Capitol. Everything else just needs to suitable for sudden pushup competitions with Lyme whenever she gets any ideas.

Speaking of:

“I did not steal Lyme’s outfit. I bought it in the Capitol. Devon was there. Yes, you were, Devon. I don’t know if it’s the one with the ‘cute cashier’ because I was too busy buying MY outfit. Listen, Lyme, if you burn yours I’ll burn mine because we’ll never live it down if the paparazzi... or Snow forbid, Misha, finds out about this. No that is not an admission of guilt. One of us has to be an adult, and it’s obviously not going to be you.”

Callista:

Traits: Non-committal, animal enthusiast, romantic

Aspiration: Serial romantic

If it doesn’t make half the Capitol scared and the other half turned on, it’s not worth the money.

Nero:

Traits: Insider, maker, good

Aspiration: Neighborhood confidante

He’s just going to wear the first thing he sees that looks comfortable unless Snow orders him not to, and if you say anything Adessa and Callista will use your remains as rose fertilizer and cat food respectively.

Odin:

Traits: Self-assured, bookworm, perfectionist

Aspiration: Freelance Botanist

He could still be intimidating and terrifying if he wanted to, it’s just that these days he mostly wants to garden instead.

Hera:

Traits: Outgoing, creative, loves the outdoors

Aspiration: The curator (chosen by near random selection)

She let her hair go gray because none of your business. And she wears nicer clothes because she loves her Victor, she does, but dear Snow, Calli, some of us have to wear actual fabric on our bodies.

Adessa:

Traits: Loner, snob, perfectionist

Aspiration: Academic

“No, these suits are not all the same, some of them are clearly blue.”

Caius (pure guesswork 1)

Traits: Outgoing, goofball, cheerful

Aspiration: Angling ace (?)

He likes to be refined every now and then, but he hardly ever goes to the Capitol and it’s not like he’s going to be in a magazine if he wears the wrong glasses, so who cares?

Luna (pure guesswork 2)

Traits: Art lover, gloomy, creative

Aspiration: Painter extraordinaire

What is life without a little quirkiness and color? Just because you’re a Victor doesn’t mean you have to be self-righteous and drab.

Ronan:

Traits: Insider, outgoing, loves the outdoors

Aspiration: Successful Lineage

Notes: He’s retired. He’ll wear what is comfortable and what he can get dog hair out of.

[bex-la-get]

Hi! I'm new to tumblr and... can I request a fic where Ethan is the one who ask questions to Nat to test the new fMRI scan, but it is set on book 2 instead. Thank you and I admire your writings!

NONNY!!! I absolutely love this!!! I'm gonna say this takes place in mid-Book 2-ish.

K, before we start, I just wanna throw a disclaimer out there: my memory of Book 2 is fuzzy which means mistakes are likely. Sorry in advance if I get something wrong. Also, I'm not a medical professional, so any mistakes made are my own. Thank you.

Okay, let's go!!

Nat sat on the couch of the Diagnostics Office, absent-mindedly staring out the window and chewing on her lower lip. The last few weeks had been exhausting. Between the news that Edenbrook had lost its funding, Kyra's diagnosis, and the stress of being a Junior Fellow on the DT, it was all beginning to feel like it was too much. She wasn't sure how much more she could take at this point.

"Hey, you okay?" a voice asked.

She turned to the source and found Ethan looking at her, eyebrows furrowed in concern. She hadn't even heard him come in. She sat up straight. "Yeah, sorry; just needed to take a break."

"Nat," he said, coming to sit next to her. "It's okay if you're not. You don't have to be 'okay' all the time."

She sighed. "I know."

"What's going on?"

Nat shook her head. "Just... feeling a little overwhelmed is all. With everything going on as it is, it just kind of feels like a little too much."

Ethan nodded sympathetically. "I understand. The last few weeks have been... challenging, to say the least." Nat nodded in agreement and he gently ran his fingers along the back of her hand. "I wish I could offer you words of wisdom or at least better advice." He said, smiling sheepishly.

She gave him a small smile. "Just being here for me is enough. Thank you."

He returned her smile and linked his pinky with hers, giving it a tight squeeze. "I don't know if it will provide the distraction you need, but I could use your help with something if you have a few minutes?" Nat nodded. "The fMRI machine went on the fritz about a week ago and I was just told that it's back in working order. I'd like to test it out and make sure that it really is working normally. Care to help me out?"

"Sure," Nat said, "but only if you ask the questions this time. It's only fair since I did it last time."

Ethan chuckled and nodded. "Deal."

The two of them made their way to the imaging lab, set Nat up within the machine, then Ethan made his way into the control room. "Can you hear me?" he asked.

"Loud and clear, boss," Nat replied.

"Good. I presume you remember the drill from last year. I'll ask you some questions and see how your brain responds as you answer."

"Sounds good."

"All right. First question: What is your middle name?"

Nat scoffed over the speakers. "That's your first question?"

"What's wrong with the question?"

"It's boring. I distinctly remember asking you some scandalous questions."

Ethan rolled his eyes. "Just answer the question, Rookie."

"Fine. Paige."

Ethan pursed his lips. Natalie Paige Cusack. Very pretty. Very her. Tucking this new knowledge into the back of his head he nodded as the scanner showing her brain lit up.

"All right. Next question: do you have any siblings?"

"Ethan, these are questions you can ask me in casual conversation," Nat protested. "Ask me something fun! I thought the point of this was to provide me a distraction, after all."

Ethan chuckled and shook his head. "Fine, answer this question while I think of something fun to ask you."

"Deal! In answer to your question, yes. I have an older brother named Victor but everyone calls him Vic. The only time I call him Victor is when he's in trouble."

"And just how often is he in trouble?" Ethan asked, amused. Nat's hippocampus lit up as she thought of her answer and he raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

"When we were kids? All the time," she answered, giggling. "As an adult, less often. Though it still happens."

Ethan chuckled and nodded. "All right. Per your request, here's a fun question. What's an embarrassing story from your childhood?"

"Oooh, you went right for the jugular. Respect. I like it. Okay, um... have I ever told you the goblin story?"

"The goblin story?"

She laughed. "Oh, man! You're gonna love this. Okay, so when I was little, I had a pretty big nose. I grew into it as I got older, but when I was little, it wasn't proportional to my face at all." Ethan listened to the story with an amused smile on his face as the scan showed her pregenual anterior cingulate cortex light up during her story.

"One night," she continued, "I stupidly fell asleep with gum in my mouth and woke up with it all in my hair. It was a nightmare."

"Oh no," Ethan said.

"Yep," Nat confirmed. "It was so bad that the only thing we could do was cut as much out of it as possible, which left me with this terrible haircut that, low-key, had me looking like I had been electrified.

"Anyway, Vic's knee-jerk response at seeing me with my short hair and big nose was to promptly call me goblin. And the stupid nickname stuck! He still calls me it even though it was over twenty years ago!" She paused in her storytelling, expecting to hear a response but heard nothing instead. "Ethan? Are you there? You better not have left!"

The speakers turned on and all she heard was his laughter. "Are you laughing?! Ethan!"

Ethan tried to speak through his laughter. "I'm sorry, I sympathize, really." He laughed again and Nat rolled her eyes.

"You are the worst, you know that?" she told him.

"Sorry Nat," he said, finally getting his laughter under control. "I'm sure you made a very cute goblin."

Nat rolled her eyes. "Ugh, just ask your next question, Ramsey."

He chuckled again and thought for a moment when a question appeared in the back of his mind. Rationally, he knew he shouldn't ask it. It wasn't exactly professional and went against the reset rule he initiated.

But he had enjoyed getting to know more about Nat and he was curious. “Tell me about your first kiss.”

“Trying to figure out how I got such high standards?” she joked.

He rolled his eyes. “I’m trying to trigger an emotional response in your brain. Go.”

She giggled. “Hmm.. first kiss. Um, it was my first boyfriend, Matt. I was a Freshman in high school and he kissed me during the slow dance at our Homecoming dance.”

Her limbic system lit up on the scanner. “Sounds romantic,” he mused, pushing down the surge of jealousy he felt at the thought Nat kissing another man, even if it had been when she was significantly younger.

“Mm, not really. He wasn’t really good at it. He was kind of slobbery, if I’m being honest.”

Ethan scrunched up his face. “Gross.”

“Very,” she confirmed.

“Last question,” he said. He knew this was approaching risky territory but damn it, if Nat didn’t make him want to throw every one of his morals and rules right out the window. And, if he were honest... he really wanted to hear the answer to this question. “What was the best kiss you’ve ever had?”

“Hmm...” she hummed in thought for a long moment, Ethan’s heart pounding as he waited for her reply. Finally, she spoke. “New Year’s Eve, 2017.”

Ethan’s heart sunk. “Oh? Why then?”

“My ex-boyfriend was moving. He had accepted a position at one of the National Labs in New Mexico and I knew I was staying on the East Coast so we split. When the Ball dropped at midnight, he gave me a goodbye kiss. Then he got in a moving van the next day and moved across the country.”

Her amygdala lit up like a Christmas Tree and Ethan frowned. Clearly that memory was still fresh for her. “That’s enough questions, Nat. I think we’ve done our job here.” 

Ethan stopped the machine and met Nat back in the lab as she stood up. Ethan had been prepared for Nat to be sad after that last story but instead, he found her smiling up at him. “That was fun. I needed that.”

“You needed to be put into a giant metal machine and have your brain looked at?” Ethan asked.

She lightly hit his shoulder. “You know that’s not what I mean.” Her smile grew, making Ethan’s heart skip a beat. “Thank you, Ethan. I appreciate the distraction.”

“I’m glad it helped,” he said, returning her smile.

“Well, I better go make my rounds,” she said as she began to make her way out of the lab. 

“Hey, Nat,” Ethan called. In a flash, he grabbed her hand, pulled her back to him, and cupped her face with his hands, giving her a searing kiss. Nat made a quiet noise of surprise at Ethan’s gesture but quickly melted into the kiss, her lips matching his fervor. His hands moved from her face to her waist as he pulled her impossibly closer, her arms circling around his neck as if to hold him in place. 

Neither knew how long they stood there. It could have been hours, days, even years. It didn’t matter; they didn’t care. In that moment, all they cared about was each other and they both hoped that the moment, however long it may have been, never ended.

But alas, eventually they broke apart at the sound of Nat’s pager beeping. Their lips separated, but neither moved very far apart, as they both fought to catch their breath. Ethan’s eyes were still closed, his forehead resting against hers as Nat opened her eyes. She nuzzled her nose against his and sucked in a breath when his blue eyes opened, locking with hers.

“What was all that for?” she asked in a whisper. 

He smiled sheepishly. “I may have taken slight offence as not being your best kiss ever.”

She pulled away slightly to look at him better, a giggle on her lips. “Did you get jealous after hearing about my ex?”

“No,” he retorted, defensively.

This time, she laughed. “You did! I can’t believe it, Ethan Ramsey got jealous. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re never going to let this go, are you?”

“Nope,” she confirmed. She leaned in close again and placed another chaste kiss on his lips. “But don’t worry, Ethan. You have nothing to worry about.” She pulled out of their embrace as her pager beeped again (thankfully it was just a notification that her latest lab test results were in and not an emergency). “I’ve had some much better kisses since then. One of them, in this very room.”

Ethan smirked. “Glad to hear I made the running.”

She returned his smirk. “You also might be interested to know, I was lying. That New Year’s kiss was best kiss I’ve ever had. But it was beat by a mysterious tall doctor on a balcony in Miami last year. You might remember him; he was a bit of a risk taker, that one.”

He chuckled. “He sounds familiar, I admit.”

“I hope he comes back,” she said as she made her way out of the room. “His kisses are mind-blowing.” She winked at him as she finished her statement then sauntered out of the room, leaving a smirking Ethan, shaking his head, behind.

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