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hederasgarden · 2 months ago

Text

Post tenebras lux

Summary: You are gifted to Lucius as a reward for his prowess in the arena. Pairing: Lucius Verus x F!Reader Word Count: 5.9 K Rating: Explicit, 18+ only. Heavy angst with a HEA, dubious consent (reader and Lucius are coerced into having sex), public sex (PIV and f receiving), mentions of spousal death, and brief descriptions of blood/injuries from combat in the arena. A/N: I futzed with the timeline in this fic. Instead of coming home after conquering Numidia General Acacius is sent out on another campaign for the emperors. Also, fun fact — the Romans considered oral sex taboo. A HUGE thanks to @aliensupastar, my beloved B, @clairewritesandrambles, @ryebecca, and @faebirdie for their help with the fic. Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

Gladiator Masterlist ♡ Masterlist

The warm steam of the bath clings to the air, thick and heavy, as you move past the large pools where gladiators soak and laugh. Their rough voices fill the humid air and the afternoon sun filters through the open atrium, casting a muted, golden glow across the water. None of the men bother you as you make your way to the quiet alcove at the far end of the room. If Lucius's reputation in the arena hadn’t been enough to keep them away, the man whose hand he took for daring to touch you certainly was.

You’d learned quickly that in this place violence was power, and your gladiator wielded it well. It was a far cry from your life as a fisherman‘s wife, and then as a slave in Macrinus’s household. When you were gifted to Lucius, you braced yourself for the brutal ways of his world, where strength ruled above all else, and men like him took what they wanted without hesitation. But he never did. Instead, Lucius treated you with something you hadn’t expected: respect and kindness. His touch only ever lingered long enough to offer reassurance, never to claim.

In time you both learned to play your parts to survive. By day, Lucius was the victorious gladiator, and you, his spoil of war. They were roles neither of you had chosen, but ones you took on to survive. The night became your refuge, a time where the weight of your reality could be put aside, if only for a while. Curled around one another on the thin cot the ghosts of your past weren’t silenced but shared through whispered admissions. You could speak of the people you had once been – before Rome twisted you both into something unrecognizable.

Trust came with time. And now, as you approach the alcove where he waits, you can feel some of the tension leave your body. You are safe with Lucius, a thought that would have been absurd to you just months ago.

You shift the small wooden tray — laden with fresh bread, olives, figs, and a jug of strong wine — to your other hip. The soft scrape of your sandals against the stone floor alerts Lucius to your presence. His dark gaze lifts from the water, meeting yours with the quiet intensity that you’ve come to expect. Even in the haze of sweat and steam, his presence is impossible to ignore.

Where others would let their gaze wander lower, drifting toward the rest of his bare form submerged beneath the water, you always look at his face. It‘s there that you find what you seek: the sharp edges of your own pain and anger mirrored in his dark eyes. It’s a reflection of the hurt you carry, of all that Rome took from you both.

“You fought well today,” you say, settling beside the pool, the water lapping at the stone.

The words come easily, practiced—part of the familiar routine you’ve both come to rely on. Though the bath is quiet and you seem to be alone, you know better. You’ve learned the hard way that the walls have ears. Every word, every glance, carries weight here, and even in the relative solitude of this alcove, your interactions could be reported back to Macrinus. Only when you’re hidden away in the cell you share each night can you let the pretense fall away.

Lucius hums in response as he lets his head fall back against the cool stone. His muscled arm rests on the edge of the pool and you offer him a brief, gentle touch before withdrawing. The tension in his frame eases a fraction and his eyes flutter closed, but the sharpness of his presence doesn’t fade. He’s aware of every shift in the air, every sound around him. Even in the quiet comfort of this place, Lucius is never truly off guard.

You pick up a ripe fig, its skin velvety and fragrant, and drag it slowly through the warmed honey. Gently, you bring it to his lips, offering it with a quiet gesture. Lucius sighs—softly, almost imperceptibly—and then his lips part, taking the fruit from your fingers. As he bites into it, you feel the heat of his tongue brush against your skin. You try to ignore the traitorous feeling that springs to life in your belly. That feeling has become a frequent companion, one you never asked for, and one that sits uneasily beside the grief you still carry for your late husband.

“You must eat too,” Lucius commands. “You will need your strength for later.”

His rough words carry no real threat, but you react like they do, tucking your chin to your chest in a subtle gesture of submission. At times, it feels like a performance—like you're both actors on a stage, with an unseen audience watching every move. You eat in silence until the tray is bare and the goblet empty. When he rises from the pool, water cascading from his sun-kissed skin, you reach for the fresh robe laid carefully over the stone bench.

“Do you wish…” you begin, lifting your eyes to Lucius, only to falter at his expression. His eyes flicker briefly past you, and then, just as swiftly, return. He gives no warning before he pulls you forward and drags you into the water. Your cry of surprise is swallowed by the splash your bodies make as ripples spread outward. The wet robes cling to you like a heavy second skin and you sink deeper into the water.

“I’ll have you here,” Lucius announces loudly. He grasps your biceps and easily forces you to straddle him. Your face shields his from the outside world. His expression softens and even as his lips part to speak, you shake your head, stopping him before the words can leave his mouth.

You understand, without needing to hear it. The two of you are no longer alone.

He leans back, arms stretched along the edge of the bath. “Ride me,” he commands.

You struggle out of the heavy outer robe and your knuckles unwittingly brush over his abdomen. Lucius tenses beneath you. You offer him a quiet apology before withdrawing and rising to your knees. Your hips shift forward in a facsimile of his request, meeting nothing but a swell of water as you keep a careful distance from his body. He groans and you answer him with a quiet moan of your own. You rise up and down almost mechanically, staring at the chipped stone above his head. His hot breath fans over your neck, the heat of it lingering on your skin. You shudder as a warmth that has nothing to do with the pool gathers under your skin, shame twisting your insides.

Lucius grabs your waist urging you to move faster, and the sounds of his pleasure rise in intensity. The muscles of your thighs protest, burning with effort as you hold the distance between your bodies. The air around you shifts and the murmur of conversation in the other pools begins to fade as the gladiators are drawn in, listening to your performance. The silence grows almost suffocating, but you force yourself to push through the charade. This is just one of many indignities you’ve endured since Rome descended onto the sleepy fishing village you called home. It pales to what could await you if it were gifted to a different gladiator.

“Fuck,” Lucius growls loudly, abruptly stilling your movement to feign his pleasure.

After a beat you gather the courage to look over your shoulder, meeting Viggo’s stare. You tense. Calloused fingertips brush lightly over your jaw, drawing your attention back to Lucius. You stare down at him, taking in the light flush of his dusky cheeks and the steady rise and fall of his chest. His touch lingers for a moment more before his hand disappears beneath the water.

“Use my robe to cover yourself,” he instructs roughly.

It’s then that you realize how transparent your dress has become in the water. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment and you slide away, only to freeze when your thigh brushes over an unexpected hardness. Your eyes jump to his and Lucius’s throat bobs, the usual intensity of his features faltering for a brief moment.

"I will fetch more wine," you stammer after a pause, your gaze flicking nervously to Viggo still lingering at the edge of the bath, all too aware that Lucius cannot leave in this state.

Wrapping your arms around your chest, you rise from the pool. The cool air instantly prickles your damp skin. You reach for a robe nearby and pull it around you quickly, grateful for its modesty. Viggo shoots you a brief, assessing glance, but it’s Lucius who commands his attention next.

"Come to admire what isn't yours?" Lucius taunts.

He leans back casually, as though completely unfazed by the situation. It’s effortless the way he slips into his confident, unshakable mask while you hurry away, eager to break the silence and escape the strange weight of the moment.

–

The clang and clash of metal from the arena become a distant hum, fading into the background as you clean the wounds on Lucius's body. Ravi is occupied, tending to the more seriously injured men, so it falls to you to care for your gladiator. You kneel between his thighs and the coarse sand scrapes against the soft skin of your knees. The heat of the day clings to you both, the air thick with the smell of sweat and blood. But beneath it all, there's a scent you’ve come to recognize as uniquely his — a mix of earth and salt that’s oddly comforting.

You gently press a cloth to one of the deeper gashes, cleaning away the blood before you begin stitching the wound. Lucius hisses as you draw the needle through his parted skin, and you glance up at him in concern, but his eyes are closed, his breath steady despite the discomfort. His fingers curl into the edge of the cot, gripping it tightly. You smear the thick, fragrant paste Ravi left over the wound once you’re done.

“You’re getting better at this,” Lucius observes.

“Flesh is not so different from cloth,” you reply.

“A far cry from mending fishing nets,” he says, and for a moment, your eyes meet and you share a small, pained smile.

“And you are a long way from a farm, gladiator,” you acknowledge, shaking your head.

You help him stand, your hands steady as you support his weight, but you pause when you spot Viggo standing in the doorway. Lately, he seems to haunt your every step, his presence a constant shadow. On instinct you shift a little closer to Lucius, your body seeking the reassurance of his proximity just as he draws you near. The subtle movement doesn’t go unnoticed. A small, knowing smile tugs at Viggo’s lips. It’s a look that sends a trickle of unease down your spine.

“Macrinus is entertaining some important guests tomorrow evening, and you are required to attend,” he announces looking at Lucius. “They wish to see a real gladiator up close, to witness your strength and skill firsthand.”

Then, to your surprise, Viggo turns his gaze toward you. “Your presence is also required,” he adds. Although his tone is casual there's an edge to it that makes your stomach tighten.

Lucius doesn’t speak, but his fingers flex against your hip as he considers the other man’s command. You both know there’s little room for refusal when it comes to Macrinus.

“I understand-” you say at the same time Lucius’s voice cuts through the silence, low and firm.

“She is not needed. I alone will attend.”

His gaze never leaves Viggo, and you can see the challenge in his eyes. It’s an attempt to shield you, one you appreciate but understand is futile.

Viggo’s smile remains unchanged. “Macrinus insists.”

The matter is settled and you bow your head, waiting for the other man to leave. Once he is gone you look to Lucius, voice tinged with concern.

“You should not challenge him.”

Lucius steps away, anger rolling off him in waves. “And you should not submit so easily.”

You touch your throat, then turn away to busy yourself with the bloody scraps of cloth and scattered supplies. There’s no point in arguing. You know the truth: that sometimes submission is the only way to survive in a world ruled by men like Macrinus. As you work the silence between you stretches on, thick and charged before Lucius steps toward you.

He sighs, his breath warm against the back of your neck. A moment later, his hand rests on your shoulder. The calloused pads of his fingers graze the nape of your neck, sending a fleeting sense of unexpected longing through you as they briefly sweep over your skin.

“I….” His voice trails off and you close your eyes.

“I know,” you say quietly.

So much of what transpires between you seems left unsaid. You reach back, your hand finding his briefly as the two of you share a quiet moment before he must return to the arena.

–

The bangles on your wrist are heavy and ornate, far too extravagant for a slave. They feel less like adornments and more like shackles. Beside you, Lucius looks equally as uncomfortable in his fine clothes. They’ve trimmed his beard and his tunic—lined with gold thread—glimmers in the dim light. From across the room, Macrinus raises his goblet to the two of you. All around you his guests mingle, sharing hushed conversation and knowing smirks that deepen your discomfort.

The servants, once familiar to you from your time as a slave working in Macrinus's kitchen, all avoid your gaze. You spent years alongside them before you were plucked from that world and thrust into Lucius's service. Their hesitation, the way they look past you, is more than simple discomfort, it’s a warning you don’t yet understand. Your fingers tremble where they rest on Lucius’s arm.

“Something is not right,” you whisper, fear rising in your throat.

Before Lucius can reply, the conversation around you falters, and the air grows still as Macrinus moves to the center of the room. Then, with a sharp clap of his hands, the noise dies completely.

“Our entertainment is about to begin,” he announces, beckoning you forward.

As you approach, his eyes drift between you and Lucius. His smile widens, though it never quite reaches his eyes. “I hope you enjoyed your meal. You’ll both need your strength for the show,” he says.

“I am to fight?” Lucius questions, his voice edged with suspicion.

“No, not today,” Macrinus replies. “My guests are eager for a performance of another kind.”

Your brow furrows and Lucius stares blankly at Macrinus until two servants, moving in unison, pull a table forward. It is laden with the remnants of the earlier feast — half-finished plates, empty goblets, and discarded silverware. They work to clear away the table until it is left bare.

“It is no bed, but it’s finer than your cot,” Macrinus assures.

Lucius jerks back as if struck, his body stiffening in shock while cold dread settles over your shoulder as you both understand Macrinus’s meaning. He watches the small exchange between the two of you with amusement.

“Or, if you prefer not to,” he offers, watching Lucius intently. His voice is smooth with mock consideration as he continues speaking. “I’m sure another gladiator would gladly take your place.”

“No,” Lucius snarls. Before he can move, you dig your nails into his forearm, trying desperately to hold him in place.

Macrinus leans in close, his next words meant only for the two of you. “I expect a good show. Not like that mummer's farce in the bath.”

Ugly surprise washes over you as the full reality of your situation sinks in. Beside you, Lucius shifts and you see the familiar spark in his eyes. It’s the look he gets before a fight when the fire that lives inside him is ready to explode and consume everything in its path. You’ve seen it a thousand times in the arena, and it always ends the same way: with blood.

You almost wish you could let him fight, but you know better. You step closer to Lucius, your presence a quiet plea for him to stop. It takes a moment before he meets your gaze and when he does you see the pain beneath the rage, the knowledge that this moment is slipping beyond his control.

There’s no glory in this—only survival. Yet that truth doesn’t make it any easier to watch the fire in his eyes fade as he steps back. It’s the kind of defeat that no arena or battle could ever impose on him.

“My guests are eager for the show,” Macrinus says and gestures to the table.

You straighten your shoulders, willing your body to follow the courage your mind struggles to summon. Lucius follows with heavy footsteps. You stop before the table, heart pounding, and take a slow, steadying breath to gather your resolve before you turn to face your gladiator. You know the role you’re meant to play, this moment is just another part of the spectacle your life has become.

Without a word, Lucius steps closer and his hands come to rest on your hips, guiding you to sit on the edge of the table. When he moves between your legs, you can’t read his expression. Unexpectedly, one of his large hands cups the side of your face, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheekbone. He leans in, his forehead pressing against yours.

“Focus on me,” he urges. “It is just us here, no one else matters. Do not think of them. Do not think of anything but me.”

His words are a command and a reassurance all at once, grounding you in the moment even as your pulse quickens.

When he speaks again, his voice is louder, carrying across the room. “Lay back.”

The table is hard and cold beneath you as you follow his instruction, the chill seeping through the thin silks you wear. Lucius pulls you forward until you’re at the very edge, your legs hanging loosely off the sides. Gently, your dress is peeled away until you’re bare to him. His broad frame blocks the crowd from seeing much but you still feel vulnerable and exposed. You curl your fingers into the palms of your hands, trying to remember Lucius’s words as you close your eyes.

The murmurs of the observers increase, and you feel them shift, edging closer. Then, a woman’s gasp cuts through the tension, followed by a wave of hushed surprise that ripples through the gathered Romans. When you open your eyes you can only see the top of Lucius’s head from where he kneels between your thighs. Guilty anticipation zips through you, followed by a spark of heat that flickers low in your stomach at the sudden realization of what he intends to do.

“Barbaric,” a man utters, his voice thick with disdain.

“Now now,” Macrinus says with a slight chuckle. “Remember, our gladiator hails from Numidia. Their customs are not ours."

The first touch from Lucius is barely there, a whisper of contact against your inner thigh, but it grows firmer the higher his fingers climb. Instinctively, you hold your breath, waiting for him to reach the most sacred part of you. At the first touch of his mouth to you, the rest of the world fades away.

Lucius builds your pleasure with slow, steady strokes while his calloused hands knead your thighs. His touch is an anchor and spark all at once. There is little resistance when he curls a finger inside. A second joins the first a moment later and without thought, you thread your fingers into his curls. A long, shuddering moan leaves him, and the vibration tightens the coil in your belly. Lucius’s touch grows rougher and more demanding. He drinks from you like he’s starved for it, as if every drop is the only thing keeping him alive while his fingers work you open.

You come with a throaty cry, your hips leaving the table. Every nerve in your body is alight. You cannot help but hold Lucius against you until the mere brush of his nose against your center makes you quake again, sending waves of warmth through your veins. As much as you want him to stop, you’re desperate for him to continue and keep you in this moment where nothing but the two of you exist.

Lucius pulls away and reality crashes in with starting clarity while the eyes of the crowd cut through you like a thousand sharp edges. Before it all overwhelms you, he climbs onto the table. He lowers himself onto his forearms and the weight of him presses against you.

“Eyes on me,” he murmurs.

You open your mouth but the words you want to say seem to get caught, trapped somewhere between your chest and your lips. To your surprise, wetness gathers at the corner of your eyes. But even that feels like something you can't fully surrender to. You’re trapped in this strange, painful moment where nothing feels real and everything feels too real all at once. It’s all too much – his tenderness and the horror of the situation.

There’s a subtle, almost imperceptible shift in Lucius’s expression in response, but it’s enough to reveal something beneath the surface and allow you to see the guilt he bears. The lines around his eyes seem to deepen and the tension in his expression makes him look older, wearier, and more vulnerable than you've ever seen him. The desire to soothe him is enough to break the strange spell on you.

"All is well," you assure him, gently brushing your nose against his. “I am no maiden.”

“Fuck her already,” a voice shouts and Lucius pulls back, his handsome face twisting into a snarl. You feel the tension in his muscles, coiling like a spring, ready to snap—and a knot of anxiety tightens in your chest.

You breathe his name, soft and pleading, and he stills, the clench of his jaw betraying the war within. “It is only us,” you remind him, repeating his own words back to him.

He stares down at you, nostrils flaring and then suddenly he bows his head. You feel the fight leave him as he chooses restraint over the violence you both know he’s capable of.

"Only us," he replies, strained.

You hold his gaze as you feel his knuckles brush against your inner thigh to line himself up. He pushes inside slowly and you lift your hips. Your body welcomes him with only the briefest flare of pain, eased by his earlier attention.

“Oh,” you gasp.

Your eyes close as he fills you completely. The sensation is both comforting and alien all at once. You can’t help but think of your late husband, so different from Lucius in every way. You wonder fleetingly if the man above you is thinking of his lost love too. Does that unspoken grief weigh on him as heavily as it does on you?

Before your mind can wander further, Lucius begins to move and your thoughts fizzle out. He curls his powerful body over yours and keeps up a steady pace that makes your skin buzz. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and the smell of him surrounds you, familiar and comforting. As you move together each breath and shift of your body becomes a silent conversation between only the two of you.

“Gods,” he groans into your ear. “You take me so well.”

His unexpected praise has you rocking into him, needy for more. The table creaks each time he thrusts back into you. His lips trail along your neck and you feel that familiar climb to ecstasy begin, like a delicate crescendo inside you. Your nails dig into his skin and his rhythm stutters.

“Sweet girl,” Lucius sighs, pulling back just far enough to meet your gaze.

The tenderness in his eyes is unexpected. Since Macrinus gifted you to Lucius nearly six months ago, you’ve shared many looks; full of pain and grief, anger and understanding, but this is something new, fragile. You stroke his cheek and he surges forward, kissing you roughly.

His lips on yours are a revelation. A storm of emotion rolls through your chest, crystallizing into the realization that you want him. You long for him in a way that goes beyond the need for protection, or a desire for connection. You grasp his face in both hands, your fingers trembling against the hard line of his jaw, and return the kiss with urgency. It’s desperate, almost frantic, as though you’re trying to pull him closer, to merge with him in a way that makes the world outside of the two of you disappear.

He responds with a sharp thrust, angled so perfectly that it sends a flash of heat up your spine. You taste yourself on him when his tongue delves into your mouth. He hardly lets you catch a breath as he pours himself into you over and over until another orgasm washes through you. It’s more intense than the last, bleeding into his own as he comes with a quiet moan.

He gives a few more thrusts and stills, his lips hovering over yours as you share the same air. Your thumbs stroke the soft skin under his eyes and you hold his gaze. In the depths of it, you feel a thousand words rising in your chest, aching to spill out, but you are all too aware you’re not alone.

Before you let the world back in you tilt your chin up, lips brushing over his in a slow, tender kiss that he returns with heartbreaking gentleness. When you finally pull apart, the applause from Macrinus makes you flinch, and Lucius’s expression clouds over.

“What a performance,” Macrinus exclaims.

A titter of applause follows from the audience as though they’ve witnessed something to be praised. Lucius pulls away and you wince as he slips from inside you. A trickle of his seed follows and cold air blankets your body. You curl in on yourself, feeling vulnerable and anxious. When Lucius moves to stand, he carefully pulls your dress to cover you. Then, he helps you upright, and draws you into his side, shielding you with his body. He lifts his chin and offers the crowd a sharp, almost vicious smirk that’s more a baring of teeth than a smile.

“I thought you might fuck like you fight,” Macrinus says. He lays a hand on Lucius’s shoulder like they are old friends and leans close. “I’m pleased to see that I was wrong.”

There’s some other meaning in his words that you don’t catch but Lucius seems to understand. Anger flickers across his face, but beneath it, you see something more unsettling, something you’ve never seen before. Fear.

“We will do a great many things together, I think,” Macrinus continues in a pleased tone, his gaze lingering on the hand Lucius settles possessively on your hip. “A great many things.”

This time when he smiles it reaches his eyes; cold, calculating, and full of something far more sinister.

You spend the rest of the party seated on Lucius’s lap, his arm banded around your waist while the other rests on your thigh. He’s tense and angry as you expect but his focus seems distant, lost somewhere far beyond the room. He rubs the fabric of your dress between his thumb and forefinger, the motion almost absentminded. The wine you sip is overly sweet and sits like a sour stone in your belly. Neither of you speak. Occasionally, some guests, perhaps emboldened by drink or bravery, approach, but Lucius quickly sends them on their way with nothing more than a look.

Only once the party dies down are you dismissed by Viggo. On the journey back to your cell Lucius’s grip on you remains firm, as if he's afraid you might slip away. He doesn't speak, and you notice every so often, his free hand curls into a tight fist at his side, his knuckles turning white from the pressure. It’s not until the door closes behind you, locking you both inside the small, dimly lit space, that Lucius finally speaks.

"You know my true name,” he begins pacing the length of the cell. “But there are things I have not told you."

He speaks slowly, each word carefully measured, as though he’s weighing the cost of revealing what’s hidden. He tells you the truth of his origin, and with each sentence, you sink deeper into the thin cot you both share, the weight of his words pressing down on you. When he finally falls silent, you remain there, frozen. A thousand thoughts flood your mind, but none of them seem to form into anything coherent.

"Does this mean-" you begin, words faltering as you try to process the magnitude of what he’s revealed to you. “Does this mean… you are the rightful emperor?”

“I am.” There’s no pride in his admission, only worry. He releases a harsh breath through his nose like he’s trying to clear something from his chest before he speaks again. “There is a plan in place, with my mother and Acacius, but he will not return from Persia for several weeks yet. We cannot wait for them.”

“What has changed?”

“Surely you must know,” he whispers, regarding you softly.

You shake your head, a quick, instinctive denial, but a deeper part of you already understands. Or perhaps, hopes you do.

“You," he says simply.

It’s the way he says it, so certain and knowing, that makes your breath catch. You stare at him and your heart throbs in your chest, low and sweet like a song.

“I never thought I could want someone again,” he admits. His unexpected words summon the ghost of all you've both lost, and they rise between you like a shadow, lingering for a long painful moment. "I thought it would feel like..." His words trail off.

“A betrayal,” you finish for him, keenly aware of what he must feel.

The vulnerable look on his face awakens something deep and real inside you that you never expected to feel again. You rise from the cot without thinking and move to stand before him.

"It feels right," he continues, his voice softer now, but no less certain. "As easy as breathing."

And then he kisses you, tentative at first, before he grasps your jaw, seeking more of you. The way he holds you, possessively, protectively, makes you feel like you’re the only thing that matters, like you're his lifeline in a world that’s about to crumble. It fills you with such longing that you chase his lips when they part from yours.

"Macrinus knows now. And he is planning something," Lucius says, his voice tight with urgency, "and whatever it is, it will be at odds with the good of Rome. He will use you to get to me. And I cannot lose you."

“What will you do?” You ask.

"I'll send word to my mother in the morning," he replies. "You and she must leave Rome. It’s the only way."

You shake your head, unwilling to part from him.

“I will come for you when it is safe,” he promises, capturing your lips in another kiss before he pulls away and rests his forehead against yours. "But tonight… tonight, I need you again. Will you have me?” He questions.

You answer him with your lips and he gathers you in his arms. The coarseness of his beard against your chin and the firm press of his lips to yours ignites a bone-deep need within. Suddenly all the danger, the uncertainty, and the inevitability of what’s to come fades into the background. It's just the two of you, the heat of his touch, the depth of his kiss, and the unspoken promise in his embrace.

When he pulls you down on the cot, urging you on top of him, you let his momentum carry you.

“Ride me,” he pleads desperately, framing your hips with his hands.

He gazes up at you with such a mix of desperation and love that you couldn’t deny him, even if you wanted to. The shudder he gives when you take him in hand emboldens you to stroke his length. He groans and pushes his head back, exposing his thickly corded neck. You rise up and sink down on him slowly, savoring each inch. It’s near perfect how he fills you, and even though you’re still sore from earlier, the blend of pain and pleasure thrills you too much to stop.

“Your dress,” he pants, “remove it. Please. I want to see you. All of you.”

You pull the fabric from your body and shed the bangles on your wrist while Lucius removes his tunic. You’re familiar with every inch of his body from tending to his wounds and time in the bathhouse, but you gaze down at him now with renewed appreciation, resting your hands on his firm shoulders. His eyes are filled with affection and desire as they roam your body.

“You’re beautiful,” he praises.

He cups your breasts and draws his thumbs across your nipples until they grow hard. The touch sends sparks of pleasure along your nerves and you twitch around him. He moans and rolls his hips. His arms encircle you, holding you close while he fucks you with strong, powerful thrusts. You bury your face in his neck and drag his skin between your teeth. He answers your action with a groan.

“Gods, the way you feel. You’re perfect,” he praises.

You sit up and plant your hands on his chest, moving your hips to take him deeper. You gasp his name and arch your back, rocking forward with an urgent need that eclipses everything else. For the first time in what feels like forever, you close your eyes and let yourself simply feel. There’s no need to shield yourself, no barriers to maintain.

“Look at me,” Lucius begs, grasping your waist to take control of your movements.

Your eyes flutter open and meet his, the beginning of your orgasm rising to the surface like a tide pushing its way to shore. It grows steadily until it finally crashes over you, flooding your senses and leaving you breathless in its wake. Lucius finds his own end moments after with a low, shuddering gasp. It takes several moments for your breathing to return to normal and when it does Lucius sweeps his hands up your sides comfortingly.

"Stay with me like this,” he asks.

You acquiesce and he gently guides you to rest your cheek against his chest. His hand slides to the middle of your back, his palm warm and steady as he holds you close. Even though he remains inside you still your body relaxes, pooling in his. You close your eyes and listen to the steady drum of his heart, feeling a profound sense of stillness.

You’ve always felt safe in Lucius’s arms, but now, you feel loved in a way you never dreamed you’d experience again. It’s a kind of peace that settles into you, filling all the broken, hollow spaces in your heart where your grief and pain have lingered for so long.

Whatever comes next, his love and strength are something you can hold onto. And for now, that is all you need.

♡

Also part of this series:

Ab Initio

Finis

Protego te

My inbox is open for your thoughts on this story, requests for drabbles with Lucius and further scenes with Lucius and the Fisherman's Wife.

#lucius verus x reader #lucius verus #lucius verus x you #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #paul mescal #hanno x reader #Post tenebras lux #Lucius and the Fisherman's Wife

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hannieoftheyear · 4 months ago

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After All This Time (kmg)

When you're asked to be on the wedding party of a long-lost friend, you get the chance to reconnect with former classmate Mingyu, but not without your old feelings and struggles resurfacing.

✧˖* pairing: groomsman!mingyu x bridesmaid!reader

✧˖* w.c: 18,7k

✧˖* genre: friends to lovers, fluff, smut, angst, it's another self-indulgent 'running away from your high school past' story from me.

🎧: still into you — paramore

✧˖* warnings: alcohol consumption, a lot of not standing up for oneself, kind of unrealistic wedding timeline (i've never been a bridesmaid so bare with me), mingyu has no flaws here because... im in love with him, this might be badly written I can't really tell anymore | smut: it's messy, and rough, face sitting, unprotected penetration (don't do this), multiple orgasms (f). lmk if im missing anything

The unopened letter stares at you from across the table. Trying to ignore it by doing your housekeeping chores is pointless. Scrubbing your toilet, doing your laundry, making your bed, and even cooking your meal preps for the entire week, nothing managed to take your head away from that stupid letter, wondering what could possibly be.

You and Olivia haven’t spoken properly since graduating high school many years ago. The last time you had a full-on conversation with her was when she told you she started seeing a new guy freshman year in college, someone who went to your same high school but never knew. Besides that, your only form of “communication” was liking each other's Instagram stories and the yearly happy birthday text. A letter from her addressed to you was the last thing you expected to see today, or ever.

Curiosity finally wins as you take it and inspect it up close. The pastel pink envelope with golden details feels sturdy in your hands, and the wax seal is stamped with two initials, O and T. The boyfriend’s name appears in your memory as the realization hits you. Olivia and Thomas.

This is a wedding invitation.

Opening the envelope just confirms your thoughts, but there’s more to it than just a mere invitation. Just below some details such as dress code and the plus one, there’s a part specifically addressed to you asking you to be one of Olivia’s bridesmaids. Your stomach turns, anxiety, and excitement battling it out in each of your organs. For one, it’s really heartwarming that she thought of you as a friend still and wants you to be a part of such a special day as her wedding. On the other side, it’ll be awkward to see everyone again after such a long time, because, weirdly enough, you never encountered anyone you knew ever again, even if you didn’t move away and still frequented same places as before.

Except, maybe that anxiety is just because of one person, who’s probably going to be more than involved in this wedding. Cassie, your other best friend.

Being a trio was never a problem. Actually, it’s probably the better friend group arrangement for you. The three of you got along immediately since the first day of middle school and never looked back. It was always fun and comfortable, you thought you had found your best friends for life. But something happened around the age when girls start noticing boys, when everyone starts going on dates, flirting, kissing, getting into relationships. That’s when you realized you and Cassie had the exact same type. It became almost like a routine: you’d notice a cute guy around school but didn’t say anything, and the next thing you know, at the next party Cassie would also notice him and hook up with him. You were sure you were in your very own Truman Show.

Was it partially your fault for not saying anything? Maybe, but did it have to happen with literally every single guy you were ever attracted to? It reached a point where you would constantly doubt yourself, compare yourself to her, was she cooler? Prettier? Smarter? Funnier?

In the end, it wasn’t her fault, and you’d never blame her for that, but for your own good and the wellness of your crumbling self-confidence, you had to get away from that situation. And you did. At least until now. But it’s been years, you’re not the same person you were back in high school, and hopefully, all of your self-doubting was also left in the past.

A sky-high, lavish building stands before you in all of its glory. You were no stranger to your old friend’s rich family, but her lifestyle always managed to take you by surprise.

Olivia wanted all the bridesmaids and groomsmen to meet and get comfortable with each other, so she and her fiancé arranged a little afternoon party at their apartment. Over the few texts you exchanged with Olivia, she failed to mention the other people on the wedding party. So during the elevator ride, you think of every possibility, who could be there that you know? With how many people from school has she kept in contact with? Will you know the groom’s friends?

The doorbell rings inside the busy apartment, and a few seconds later you’re welcomed by your old friend with a bright smile. You hug Olivia tightly, the weirdness of the situation fading away for a few seconds. Afterward, you greet everyone with a shy smile, recognizing some faces and encountering new ones. Some people are standing in groups of three or four, while others sit on the couch or a few scattered chairs, talking with each other comfortably.

“While we wait for the last people to arrive, I want to start telling you what I have planned.”

Olivia announces as you walk away slowly, and you find an empty wall by the hallway to rest against.

At least twenty minutes pass, in which Olivia doesn’t take one breath, her happiness and excitement showing through her endless words. The wedding plan is not really out of the ordinary, but the scale of things, that’s the impressive part. She has seven bridesmaids, including you, plus the maid of honor who hasn’t arrived yet, and her fiancé has the same number of grooms, plus the best man. Each of you will pair up throughout the days coming up to the ceremony, and on the big day, each pair will have matching outfits and even a dance scheduled after the couple’s first dance as a married couple. Her idea was essentially thought so no one would feel out of place and enjoy the ceremony, because it should be a happy day for everyone.

While she explains everything for the second time, you take your time to look around the big room full of people. Scanning every face, there isn’t really a lot of girls you know, but the groomsmen, on the other hand, all of them went to your same high school. It seems Olivia’s fiancé still hangs out with his same group of friends. One of them, in particular, sparks a little smile across your face.

Mingyu was the only other person you considered a real friend in school. As scary and anxiety inducing as it is to have classes without your small friend group, he made it more than bearable, enjoyable even. Becoming friends with the nerdy boy assigned as your lab partner is one of the things you remember fondly about those years of your life. He was like a breath of fresh air during all the turmoil. Would he remember you?

His eyes catch yours from across the room, and an instant smile forms across his lips. After all the years that passed, he still looks the same. He’s much more mature and fully over puberty now, his broad bulky frame being one of the more standing out new things about him, but you’d recognize that confused expression and toothy smile with fangs peeking out anywhere. Your mood rapidly improves as he mouths a ‘hi’ and waves his hand lightly at you, not wanting to interrupt the bride to be. You repeat his greeting with a growing grin, but your small interaction is cut short.

Your name catches your attention, and you turn to Olivia, “you and Mingyu will be our last pair. Is that okay?”

The relief is immediate. It might be a little awkward, but at least you’ll be with someone you know. You and Mingyu look at each other once again and then nod at her, but before she can continue with whatever she is saying, the entry door opens behind her.

“Hi everyone!” The familiar voice makes your stomach drop, “I’m sorry I’m late. My boss wouldn’t let me go.”

She looks the same too, only with longer hair and more mature features on her face. Her body language holds the same coolness, as sure of herself as she was when you were younger.

“It’s fine. It’s nothing the maid of honor hasn’t heard before.” Olivia replies to her with a chuckle.

“Oh my god! I haven’t seen you in so long!” When she greets you, you straighten your posture, put on your best smile, and hug her back. “How are you doing?”

“Hey Cassie, good, good, just working my life away!”

You joke and try to ease up your emotions. Your few words manage to satisfy her as she nods with a smile, walks away, and pecks one of the groomsmen – her boyfriend? – on the lips before sitting by his side.

The schedule is easy for Olivia to finish explaining it, so in no time, food starts rolling in, and conversations pop up between everyone, either catching up or normal everyday chats. Cassie starts telling a story about something that happened earlier at her job, but you don’t really understand it. You haven’t talked to them in so long, you don’t know what they do for a living, or where they work. You don’t know them anymore, and you’re too afraid to ask.

To the side, a couple of people over, Mingyu’s talking with the rest of the grooms' friends comfortably. You want to talk to him, but what would you say? It’s not like you were the closest of friends. You never hung out outside of the school, and your friend groups never actually interacted until now. Actually, you never told Olivia and Cassie about him. Maybe because you were afraid that if you introduced him to Cassie, he’d swoon over her like the rest of the guys you ever interacted with romantically.

An uneasy feeling creeps in on you as memories of your past fight to climb up on your memory. Feelings and thoughts you haven’t felt in years come back up, almost reliving everything in a matter of milliseconds. You need to talk to someone, take your mind off of your overthinking. Because this is not the time nor the place to get so gloomy.

You get to talk with the rest of the bridesmaids, and the anxiousness of it all starts bubbling down, and you’re much more comfortable. A couple of them are close family friends with Olivia, also as rich as her, but still really nice girls, even if a little airheaded, and the rest are friends from college.

Time passes by easily, and soon enough, the sun is already set.

On the ride back home, your mind starts spiraling again. Do you even fit in with all those people? An invite to her wedding would’ve been just fine, but a bridesmaid? You feel like a total stranger, someone from her past who’s meddling around trying to sneak into a place she purposely left behind. At least you won’t have to see anyone ever again after the wedding is over.

It is said that changing your usual routine helps improving your mood, taking another path home, shopping at a new place, sitting down at a different park, trying a new coffee order, changing the little things to feel more energized and be more productive. You wouldn’t know, because every task you complete as fast as possible to be back home quickly. So, after days of not being able to think about anything else but the upcoming wedding, it’s your only option left.

With the sky lit up with golden light, the grass and trees as green as ever, and a light breeze that prevents you from getting too hot, you walk around a park you’ve never been to before, with your new ‘hot girl walk’ playlist as a soundtrack. The kids running around the playground are the only sounds that get through your ears besides the music, maybe a bark or two as well, and the sun against your skin soothes all your worries. Damn. Going on a walk does fix your mood.

A hand grabbing your arm softly startles you, and you’re about to punch the mystery person when you recognize his face.

“Mingyu?”

His eyes are focused on your fist that was ready to hit him, and you lower it down, beginning to take out your airpods.

“Sorry! You scared me!” You erupt in a nervous laughter.

“I’m sorry! I called your name but you didn’t hear me.” He stands apologetic in front of you, looking down at his feet before daring to look back up. “How are you doing? We didn’t get to talk the other day.”

“Yeah! It’s good to see you! I didn’t expect you to be there, it was a nice surprise.” Is it too weird to say that? Well, it’s already done.

He gets the tiniest bit shy at your words, his ears turning a light shade of pink before disappearing quickly.

You notice a bicycle by his side, a cute pink helmet with glittery heart stickers hanging by the handle. He must’ve been biking when he saw you and took it off before calling your name.

“I didn’t know if you were still friends with Olivia, I didn’t know if I was going to see you either.”

You fixate on the first part of his sentence, ignoring your body’s reaction to him implying he wanted to see you.

“Oh, we’re not really that close anymore.” There’s a silence as you finish your words, as it wasn’t the reply he was expecting. “Life, you know? We just grew apart.”

It was you who stopped making an effort to talk to her, but even if it was still for your own good, you’re a little ashamed to admit it to Mingyu.

“She still asked you to be her bridesmaid. That must mean something.” Ever the positive guy, he tries to make you feel better after the sour comment.

“Yeah, it’s really nice of her.” The sun shining so bright prevents you from looking up at him, but you smile, hoping he can see it.

The slow steps you’ve been taking side by side turn awkward with silence. You wanted so badly to talk to him after the other day, but now that he’s here, in front of you, you can’t think of anything.

“It’s good that you still hang out with the guys.”

You don’t know what else to say, and the words spill out of your mouth. He doesn’t seem to notice the awkward atmosphere, his body as comfortable as ever walking by your side.

“Yeah, even though not as often as I’d like.” A regretful smile forms across his lips. “Our schedules haven’t been lining up, I met Olivia in person maybe a total of three times over the years.”

“What? There’s no way you didn’t share any classes in school?”

He shakes his head, chuckling at your surprise.

“I think I only ever shared one class with her, but I didn’t really care much about her crowd back then.”

“Wow, thanks for that.”

He means all the popular guys your friends would hang out with, and you know it, but there was always something so fun in teasing him and seeing him get so pouty.

"You know I don’t mean you.”

His shoulder pushes your body lightly to the side, and you chuckle together. It’s hard to prevent the red from rushing to your cheeks. Maybe he’ll mistake it for a faint sunburn.

“That’s a cute helmet you got there.” Your eyes point to it as a way to distract him.

“Oh, that?” He picks it up with what seems to be an embarrassed voice tone, but his actions quickly override it. He puts it on proudly and looks at you with his eyebrows raised, “my sister gave it to me when I bought the bike, gets all the ladies.”

“I'm sure it does.”

Attention from women he for sure gets, but probably not because of that thing. His tall, muscular body is enhanced by the tight blue t-shirt he's wearing. You didn’t get a proper look at him the other day, and now, standing next to him in broad daylight, you almost wish you could still live in the ignorance bliss of not knowing the exact height difference between you two.

“So, what are you doing around here?”

His words make you realize you’ve been staring for a few seconds, and you look ahead, hoping he didn’t notice. He forgets to remove the helmet, making you chuckle quietly before answering.

“I just got off from work and thought it would be nice to take a different route home.”

“That’s such a coincidence! I come here, like, almost every week to bike around.”

“Wow, It really is.”

For how long have you been avoiding this specific park for no reason? Pushing away your chance of meeting the one and only person you would’ve wanted to?

A ping from his phone alerts both of you, taking you out of your little bubble.

“Sorry I-" His expression falls as he reads the new text, “I have to get going, but it was really nice seeing you!”

"Oh, sure! I didn’t mean to hold you back.” It comes out quieter than you’d like. “Goodbye!” With a simple smile and a tiny wave at him, you turn around.

Right when he gets on his bicycle again, before he starts pedaling, he looks back at you, taking your first step in the opposite direction.

“Wait!” When you turn around, he’s taking his phone out of his front pocket, “Can I get your number?”

The both of you blush at his words, and you look up at him cautiously.

“So we can catch up and, you know, get comfortable with each other for the wedding.”

You had already forgotten about that. The reason you even met him again in the first place.

“Sure!”

Your hand trembles slightly when you take his phone, and you mentally beat yourself up for it. It’s just your number! It could mean nothing.

“I’ll text you later so you can save mine.”

And with a wink, he’s off to whatever he was late to.

Great. Now you’re not only re-living your high-school anxieties but also your high-school crushes.

During the following days, you find yourself checking your phone more often than ever, always with the hope that you’ll get a new message from Mingyu. Texting almost every day since the encounter at the park, the time when you’re both free to talk has become your favorite part of the day.

It started shyly, merely updating the other about your lives since finishing high school, your jobs, and hobbies. But as time passed, the never-ending conversation eased onto your daily routines. You’d wake up and text Mingyu, update him as you arrive at work. Lunch, break, evening, clocking out, dinner. Every little free time you got, you’d text each other back and forth.

A text notification cheers you up constantly, thinking that it could possibly be him again. But it’s not always the case, like this time.

It’s Olivia reminding you that, in exactly 29 minutes, you have the dance rehearsal with all the maids and grooms. Half an hour, and you live 1 hour away from the studio she rented. A little white lie never hurt anyone, so you tell her something came up and you'll be just a little late.

You love weddings, but if you had to choose one thing you don’t like about them, it would definitely be the dancing. You can’t dance for shit. You’d tell your right leg to move forward, and your left leg would move backwards, like your body can’t comprehend instructions when they’re related to dancing. Usually, you stay in your seat, choosing not to embarrass yourself in front of all the guests, but this time, you can’t get out of it. Poor Mingyu will leave the class with at least five bruises on his feet from you stepping on him.

The dance studio is part of a new, contemporary looking building on the exact geographic center of the city, a place you would always pass by but never thought you’ll get to enter. Standing at the front desk, over half an hour late, you feel too out of place. Your clothes are probably wrong, your hair is completely disheveled, you don’t remember on which floor is your class, and you don’t even know the name of the dance teacher.

After a long discussion with the receptionist, she finally understands what you’re here for and lets you go up to the 13th floor.

The walk from the elevator to the studio feels longer than it actually is. Three to four footsteps become long, slow turtle-like steps. But not even the infinite time you spend taking four steps prepare you for your stomach to drop down to the basement at the sight of Mingyu dancing with Cassie as soon as you open the door.

His hands on her waist, her arms around his neck, dancing slowly in circles, laughing about something she just said, you can almost hear something inside you break. After all this time, nothing really changed.

“Hey! You’re finally here!”

Olivia’s voice brings you back to earth.

“Hi! I’m really sorry I couldn’t get here sooner.” The dance teacher gives you a look, and you lower down your voice, “So how is this going?”

“We had to put them together,” she points the dreaded pair, directing your eyes to them once again, “because neither you or Tyler were here when we started, but after the song’s over you can join him and I’ll practice with Cassie, okay?”

You nod with the best spirit you can manage to express.

“Is Tyler the guy she was with the other day?”

You don’t forget to whisper so the class isn’t interrupted by your chatter.

“He’s the only one of Tom's friends who’s not from school, don’t worry, you didn’t erase him from your memory.”

You stifle a laugh before it gets loud.

“Good, I was starting to feel bad about not recognizing him.”

In reality, his existence doesn’t matter much to you either way, except for something. “Are him and Cassie a thing?”

“She says it’s something casual but, and don’t tell her about this, I paired them up together on purpose so they can finally realize that they like each other!”

Your lungs clear of air in an instant after hearing those words. She’s not available. She has a boyfriend, sort of. A boyfriend who you do not know nor have feelings for.

“Your secret's safe with me.”

“Mingyu's nice and all, but if he messes with my plan and charms her, I will personally revoke his invitation to the wedding.”

You both chuckle just as the song finally ends, yours quieter than hers. Both of them see you with Olivia, but only Cassie comes forward to say hi.

“Hey girls! Good to see you!” She gives you a little hug before directing to Olivia. “So… Tyler isn’t showing up, I assume.”

“He told me a few minutes ago that something came up and can’t come, sorry.”

Her hand flies to Cassie's shoulders to comfort her, but she doesn’t seem bummed by the news.

“Well, then, I have something to ask you.”

Her presence suddenly becomes overwhelming as she grins at you with a proposition in mind, seemingly all thought out.

“Are you close with Mingyu? Olivia told me you were classmates.”

How did she know? Maybe you did tell her about him after all.

“He used to be my lab partner. Why?”

“How did you not crush on him back then? He’s such a cutie.”

“I probably did, I don’t remember.” Lie.

“Could you find out if he has a girlfriend, pleeease?”

A buzzing sound is all you hear for a few seconds, like your brain forgets how to function. Words don’t come out, and you’re freezed in place as Cassie looks at you expectantly. To the side, Olivia looks just as puzzled by her request.

“W-why?”

“Because, he’s really hot and, if I need a quick rebound because of that other fucker, I need to know I’m not messing with a relationship.”

Silence is all you produce once again.

“I just need a tiny bit of info, and it’ll be weird if I ask him directly, so could you please try?”

“Sure… I’ll try, but I’m not promising anything.”

You’ve never sounded less excited about something in your whole life. You love some gossip and some drama, but not if it involves a genuinely nice guy like Mingyu being used. Or maybe it’s just because it’s him.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Cassie jumps excitedly and hugs you once again, just as the dance teacher calls for everyone to gather.

Mingyu’s hands slot carefully at the sides of your waist, guiding you swiftly and sparking goosebumps across your back. Your arms wrap awkwardly around his neck, making him crouch a bit so you can look properly at each other.

“Were you always this good? Or did you become a professional waltz dancer in the half hour I wasn’t here?”

You remember him telling you the other day, during your endless text conversations, that he, like you, wasn’t particularly excited about dancing.

“Let’s say, hypothetically, that I practiced before coming here, what would that say about me? Hypothetically.”

“It would say that,” you drown out a cackle before you can continue, “you take your duty as a groomsman very seriously, hypothetically.”

“Good, I wouldn’t want you to think I was a dork, hypothetically.”

“You’re too late, I already thought that.”

A pout forms on his mouth at your giggles, and he flashes the world's most menacing puppy eyes ever.

“I mean it in the best way possible!”

“Isn’t it embarrassing?”

“It’s cute!”

His face shifts with skepticism, sending enough signals saying he didn’t like your choice of words.

“It’s charming!”

The warmth his body emanates wraps around you fast. His expectant eyes looking down at you and the closeness of your bodies rises your temperature in record time, your cheeks pinking up furiously. You keep talking as the nervousness takes over you.

“At least it worked! You’re a really good dancer, I’m sorry I keep missing the beats.”

“You’re giving me too much credit. You’re not that bad.”

“Now you’re just lying. My limbs are physically unable to coordinate more than three steps. You’re guiding me through every single one!”

His hands tighten just the tiniest bit around your waist, like a confirmation for the both of you that they’re still there.

The teacher’s voice echoes all around you until it finally punctures your bubble, and you’re able to hear the class you’re here for. The steps she’s explaining for a second time make no sense in your head, too many turns and moves for you (and your body) to comprehend.

“I need all the pairs to practice the final steps again.”

Only her final words make sense on your mind, and when you look towards Mingyu, his hand left its place on your body and is extended at you, his eyes kind yet concentrated back on the dance. You nod, taking his hand with an electrifying rush going through your veins.

Mingyu guides you firmly but with care, moving along the beats of the waltz. With each step, your synchronization improves, and the moves flow along easily, your bodies understanding each other. You can’t help but smile as you look him in the eyes, a familiar warm feeling bubbling up inside you.

“You're doing a really good job.”

His eyes catch yours, a little wrinkle forming by each of their sides before he cracks a smile to match yours. There’s something in the way he looks like when paying attention to you, like a spell being casted on you, making you crave more.

“It’s because it’s comfortable with you.”

Your mouth betrays you and sends out the words without checking with your brain, but weirdly enough, you don’t fear his reaction. It’s just the truth.

“We’re more in synch than you thought.”

You swear you see a glimpse of a smirk before he spins you in his arms.

As you turn and move together through the song, you think your excitement isn't solely because of the rehearsal going well. It could be simply a wish, but a spark of something is definitely lighting up. The way Mingyu holds you, attentive and confident, you can't help to think he feels it too.

“You think we can be this good the day of the wedding?”

There’s more anticipation than curiosity in your voice, remembering you’ll keep meeting until then, you’ll keep seeing him.

Mingyu reaches closer until his warm breath fans your ear and his lips graze your cheek.

“We could meet a few days before and practice, like I hypothetically did today.”

“You think I need practice?” You tease to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks.

“Maybe it’s an excuse to see you again.”

A mix of shyness and giddiness overtakes you as you giggle at his proposition. But in the midst of your interaction, you skip a crucial move and begin to turn, stepping right on one of Mingyu’s feet and almost tripping over to the side. His hand secures you by the waist, the hem of your t-shirt raised just enough so his fingers brush your fiery bare skin.

“Ok, maybe I do need the practice too.”

The teacher talks to you on the background, but it’s hard to concentrate on anything other than Mingyu’s touch lighting fires across your body, his worried eyes over your ‘almost’ fall, and his smile when he realizes you’re laughing at your clumsiness.

The music starts over, and you only realize it because his hand is extended at you once again.

“Let’s give it another try.”

“So, you didn’t get to ask him?”

“I’m sorry, I forgot about it. I was so focused on learning the dance that it slipped my mind.”

Running into Cassie coming out of the subway was the last thing you expected (and wanted) right now. Trying on dresses is the one bridesmaid related thing you were least excited about. So many hours of putting clothes on and off, picking colors, showing the rest of the girls, giving your opinion on their dresses, and listening to their opinions on yours. It just sounds so exhausting. But your mental pep talk got interrupted when Cassie saw you walking up the stairs of the station heading to the bridal shop.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

“He didn’t say anything that would imply he has one, if that helps.”

More than a helping hand to her, you're starting to hope he’s single too.

“That’s good to know, thank you.”

“I don’t really get why you wanted to know, though. I thought you had a boyfriend.”

“He’s not... I mean, it’s not like, official. I wanted him to get jealous, but I'm over that now.”

“Oh, so... you talked about it with him?"

“Kind of... he just explained why he couldn’t come to the rehearsal, and I just, couldn’t get mad at him simply for that, right?”

“Right...”

You know virtually nothing about their ‘relationship’, or about him for that matter, so it’s maybe for the best to stay out of their… thing.

“Anyway, about today, do you have something in mind for your dress?”

“Not really, I was just thinking of browsing through the store and seeing what they have.”

“Wow, really? You’re so chill about it. I have a pinterest board with all the styles and shapes I like. I even checked their online store to see what they have in stock beforehand.”

“That’s… actually really smart.”

“Nah, don’t be nice. Did you at least think of a color? Olivia wants all of us to be different colors, but in pastel, obviously. I personally didn’t really care about it, but I chose pink after some thought.”

“Oh, actually, I didn't know that.”

“It’s okay, you can decide when we get there.”

“Did the rest of the girls choose already?”

“Maybe? I haven’t had the chance to ask them.”

“I hope I don’t get green then, I don’t really like how it looks on me.”

“You’ll look amazing either way. Don’t let a simple color wear you down!”

Small talk with Cassie turns out to be quite nice in the short walk you have up to the store. It's a pretty shallow conversation, but not at all stressful like you thought.

The place is really fancy looking, tall glass windows and blinding white interior. It makes you take a breath just by looking at the displayed dresses. Relieved that Olivia said multiple times that she’ll take care of everything and not to worry about the prices, you and Cassie walk inside.

You didn’t expect every girl to be already there, and you especially didn’t expect the groomsmen to be also all there. The girls browse through racks and racks of different shaped and colored dresses, and the men are sitting back, talking with one another, waiting for their bridesmaid to ask for their opinion.

Cassie goes straight to greet Mingyu with a hug. Even if he isn’t the closest one to the door. Even if Tyler is there also. And you walk behind her, slowly, shy because of all the people aware of your arrival. You give Mingyu a shy smile as a greet, and he returns it warmly.

After the dance rehearsal all those days back, you’ve been hesitant about contacting him again. There’s nothing wrong with him. It’s quite the opposite, actually. He’s caring, attentive, and kind towards you. You just don’t want to fall in your black hole of a crush on him again. especially after Cassie made it clear to you that he’s caught her eye too. Sure, she just told you she made up with her boyfriend, but her actions are already contradicting her words.

Olivia sees you with Cassie and walks quickly towards you two with a smile on her face.

“Hey girls! How do you like the store?! Isn’t it huge?”

“It’s unbelievable! I’m gonna need at least two hours to look through all the dresses!”

Cassie answers, staring at the lengthy room in awe. You can feel Mingyu’s eyes on you. Or maybe on Cassie. Regardless, you’re in his line of sight, and it gives you chills.

“Well, you have all the time in the world today. I reserved the whole store for the entire day for all of us, and the staff is also here to help us if needed, so don’t worry about asking for help!”

“That’s amazing!” You both exclaim at the same time.

“Thank you!” Cassie doesn’t look back and goes straight to the racks of pink dresses. You’re about to go and walk around as well. Maybe try to find a color that suits you, but Olivia stops you before you can even take a step.

“Wait! I got the list of the available colors left for you,” she hands you a sheet of paper with almost everything on it crossed out, “I’m sorry, I know there isn’t much left.”

“Oh don’t worry, it’s fine. I should’ve picked it earlier. It’s not your fault.”

It’s disappointing to see that only two items aren’t crossed out. Light teal and pastel green. Green and teal aren’t ugly colors by any means, but you always feel awkward when wearing them, so you’ve learned to avoid them. The back of your throat itches to close as you think about looking ugly at the wedding, in front of so many people, in front of him.

“I saw some of the teal dresses earlier, and they’re all super cute! You’ll look amazing!”

“Oh, ok, I’ll go check them out. But, just in case, isn’t there any way for me to change colors?”

“You could ask someone to swap with you.”

Your mind instantly goes to Cassie. Earlier, she told you she didn’t care which color she wore, maybe she wouldn’t mind switching with you. You spot her easily on one corner, asking Mingyu about his opinion. She looks up at him with glittery eyes as one of her hands places itself on his arm. The sight turns your stomach upside down. You want to stop watching the scene as much as you want to break them apart.

Your legs make the decision for you and walk you to where they’re standing. They don’t notice you walking over to them until you speak up.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt you guys, but Cassie, could I ask you something?”

Mingyu’s the first one to look up at you, his face lighting up as you interrupt whatever Cassie was saying to him. She’s slower, making sure to hang the dress back on the rack before turning to face you.

“What do you need?”

There's very little annoyance on her tone, but you don’t miss the way her eyebrows arch and her eyes dart to Mingyu, signaling you that she wants some alone time.

“I wanted to ask if you, by any chance, were willing to switch colors with me?”

“What happened? Which ones are left?”

“Basically, just green.”

“Oh, that’s such a bummer.”

There’s a silence when she finishes talking. You wait for her to continue, blinking at her, but she just doesn’t. Her sentence ended there.

“Yeah, so, would you swap with me?”

“I…” Her body language turns awkward as she thinks of an answer, side-eyeing Mingyu, who’s also waiting for her, but with no context to what you’re asking her.

“I just, you said you didn’t really care about the color, so I thought you wouldn’t mind changing it.”

You huff, not helping the awkward atmosphere around the three of you. Your eyes connect with Mingyu’s, who's silently watching the interaction from the side. You hate that he’s seeing you in such a state, so... desperate for something that’s not that big of a deal anyway. You need this interaction to be over.

“You’re right, I did say that,” you can already see where this is going, “but, I kinda already put my mind to it, and it took a lot of convincing to get Tyler to match with me. He already bought his suit, and I don’t want to make him mad by changing everything so suddenly, I’m sorry.”

“Oh…”

You can feel your stomach contracting, your throat threatening to close, your eyes getting ready to be filled with tears. This is so stupid. It’s just a stupid color. It's a stupid dress you’ll never wear again. Why is it affecting you so much?

“Wait, I’m sure Tyler wouldn’t mind changing.”

Mingyu’s soft voice sounds closer to you, but you can’t really see much with your eyes trained to the ground and vision blurry from tearing up.

“No, it’s fine, let’s not bother him.”

Blinking away the tears is easy, but looking up and finding a concerned Mingyu makes you feel like jelly. Cassie’s long forgotten as you focus on him, his tall figure watching over you, his hand placed on your shoulder, squeezing lightly, silently comforting you.

“I’ll go try and find something I like.”

“I can look with you if you want.”

“No, it’s fine, you can go back to what you were doing.”

You walk away, leaving him standing there, still worried about your sudden reaction. Cassie is just behind him, waiting for the opportunity to get his attention back.

But you try not to think about him or her while browsing through the store. Trying your best to be positive, to not get dragged down by a simple color choice, or by a friend – if you can call her that – that couldn’t help you.

Hours go by, and it’s easier when you focus on other things. You help the other girls decide on their dresses, reacting and applauding, helping them find new ones if they aren’t satisfied. It’s fun, contrary to what you previously thought, it’s like playing a dress up game, except every now and then, it’s Cassie who comes out on the make-shift runway, and the first opinion she asks for is always Mingyu's.

At one point, everyone has already decided, and you’re the only one left. All the girls you helped come together to try and find you the best possible dress, bringing a new one to you with hopeful smiles on their faces every few minutes.

You try them on, eager to find one and be done with it. But, even if they look gorgeous when on the hanger, they always got something that doesn’t sit right with you when you put them on. And after trying dress after dress, you grow more discouraged.

Olivia notices how tired you are and tells you that you can come back another day, alone and less anxious, but then again, that would mean stretching the situation for longer than needed. You decide to try on one more dress, one that Olivia picked specifically for you, and if you’re not satisfied, you’ll come back with her the next day.

The store lady helps you put the dress on, her sweet smile never fading, even if it’s the tenth dress she helped you put on already. The pastel green silk fabric glides smoothly over your skin, hugging you in the right places as the lady zips it up. Your back’s facing the mirror, too afraid to look in it again and find another disappointing result.

“Sweetheart, I think this is the one.”

The kind woman’s voice startles you, but her honest smile makes you believe her words. You inhale deeply, calming yourself before turning around. But instead of looking at your reflection, you walk outside the changing room and onto the lobby.

Every pair of eyes is on you the moment you step out, your arms wrap around your torso in an effort to shield yourself, and you can feel your cheeks being painted a bright red color. A few gasps are heard, and when you look around, the girls who helped you are all covering their mouths, eyes wide as they watch you cautiously strolling forward.

At the back of the store, it’s like time stops for Mingyu. Whatever he was doing, forgotten at the sight of you. He was unaware of how much your appearance could affect him. His eyes are trained on you, allured by your figure, scanning you up and down like a piece of art worth studying.

Buzz erupts all around you, mumbles and praises about your dress and how you look in it, but it’s all background noise for you. Mingyu’s heavy stare finds yours, and his ears turn a faint shade of pink. The subtlest smirk begins to form on his lips, spreading the warm feeling on your tummy all across your body. He can’t seem to drive his eyes away from you, and you don’t want him to. Your arms relax under his gaze, disarming the protective shield around you and drop to hang by your sides.

But, in a matter of seconds, the girls swarm around you, blocking all 360 degrees around you. Their positive opinions flood your ears as they walk you back to the dressing room, trying to convince you to choose this dress. You can’t look back, but you’re sure all the groomsmen left together.

Doesn’t matter. You’re definitely getting this one.

After spending the whole day shopping together, it marvels you how these girls still want to spend time together. When they noticed all the boys left, they planned an impromptu girls' night at Olivia’s apartment.

It’s amazing how they can spend hours and hours talking with each other, a few drinks here and there, never running out of topics, entertaining you when you’re too tired to talk.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket, and you sit back on your side of the couch to read the new text.

Mingyu: hey, how are you?

Mingyu: sorry i couldn’t stay today, they dragged me to a boys night

Everything that happened a few hours ago flashes through your mind, waking a giddy smile on your face as you reply.

You: why are you sorry?

You: the girls wanted to do a ‘boys free’ night, we’re at Olivia’s rn

Mingyu: i didnt want to leave before making sure you were okay

Oh.

You: im better now

You: it was fun helping the other girls, took my mind off of it

You: but thank you, you didnt have to worry

Mingyu: good to know :)

Mingyu: next time ill drive you home

You: drive me home? Will i sit on the bike's handlebar?

Mingyu: i was thinking more like a piggyback ride

You: hmm... ill have to think about it

You tune back to the conversation before anyone notices you not paying attention, having no idea what turns the topic has taken in the time you weren’t listening.

“I think he’s definitely seeing someone.”

The girls divided into two groups with different conversations going on, but sitting in front of Cassie, you can only hear her side of the table. They might be talking about Tyler and their “relationship” problems.

“I really don’t think he is. He didn’t use his plus one you know.”

A smile forms in your mouth when your phone vibrates in your hand once again.

Mingyu: can you believe the wedding’s so close already

You: times moving so fast

You: i cant believe its less than two weeks away

Mingyu: it feels like it was only yesterday that tom told me he was getting married

“But today, he didn’t seem at all interested, he was really out of it from the start.”

“Maybe seeing dresses all day is not his thing.”

“No but like, I tried every move on him, and he didn’t even bat an eye.”

Bits and pieces of the still going conversation manage to register on your mind, and you realize they’re talking about Mingyu, unaware of your current chat with him.

You: is the boys only hang out getting boring? Its not very polite to be on the phone you know

Mingyu: theyre all playing games, havent looked my way in over 30 mins

Mingyu: besides i much rather talk with you

You: well i wont argue with that

Mingyu: you seem bored too

You: you’re definitely helping me get through the night

“Maybe he’s just not interested in you.”

Olivia teases Cassie, even though her comment is more than just a joke. But why is Cassie so adamant on wooing Mingyu if, according to Olivia, she really likes Tyler?

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

Mingyu: you know what I just realized

Mingyu: I forgot the dance routine already

You: omg me too

You: we might have to meet to practice like you said

Mingyu: we can do it at my place

Mingyu: you up for it?

You: i should ask you that

You: your feet are going to suffer because of me

Mingyu: that’s a risk im willing to take

Mingyu: but I gotta warn you, I take my practice very seriously

You: sure, you can carry me back to my apartment after we're done

Sitting on Mingyu’s couch, waiting for him to get back from the bathroom, you’re too tired to do anything else than looking around his living room. It’s so him. The warm and neutral colors make everything feel cozy, with pictures of him and his family hanging on the walls – no ambiguously romantic photos with unfamiliar girls, and everything is so tidy, not one pillow out of place, even after practicing for over an hour. Out the window, you can see the sun starting to set, and the buildings across the street start lighting up. You recognize all of them.

All this time, he’s lived so close to you. His building barely a ten minute walk away from yours. You can’t help but wonder, what would’ve happened if you kept in touch, if you just walked two more minutes to the park he frequents, or sent him a follow request on Instagram the few times he popped up on your recommended. It comforts you that at least you have this chance to reconnect with him, to make things right.

But sounding confident over text is easy, and now, you’ve only danced for the whole time you’ve been here, barely even talked about anything else.

It’s conflicting, the guilt of meeting with Mingyu behind everyone’s back – even if it’s no one’s business –, the excitement of seeing him alone after weeks of only wedding related stuff, and the actual need to practice the dance so you don’t embarrass yourself, all colliding in your mind, making everything awkward for you.

Like ten thousand spectators, the windows of every apartment watch you through the glass, just sitting, waiting. Mingyu left only a couple of minutes ago, but after the many times you stepped on him, you wonder if he’s actually hurt.

“Are you okay? Tell me if I need to call a doctor for your feet!”

You shout with your head looking towards the bathroom door. His chuckle travels all the way to your ears before he opens the door.

“I’m fine, I swear.”

As he comes out, your body tingles with nervousness once again. He sits beside you on the couch, unknowingly making your head spin.

“You sure? I don’t think feet are supposed to withstand all of that.”

“I’m okay, just tired, why don’t we rest for a bit?”

They way he sits, on his side, facing you, and his arm resting on the back of the couch, your eyes can’t help but wander to where his arm muscles start showing. Every variation of the phrase “butterflies in your stomach" could describe the way you feel as he watches you, paying so much attention that you mumble your next sentence.

“This couch is way too comfortable. It makes me want to just stay here the rest of the day.”

“Let’s do it! We can even have dinner here. If we order take out, we can tell them to leave it at the door.”

“That sounds nice, but one of us will have to go get it.”

“When my roommate comes home, he’ll bring it inside for us.”

“Oh my god, you have a roommate? When is he coming back? I don’t want to be a bother.” You look towards the entry hallway, like he’s about to come in and kick you out.

You really don’t want to leave, Mingyu’s company is already becoming one of your favorites, but you hadn’t counted on being around another person, and in their home for that matter. You start to get up from where you’re sitting, worried about having overstayed your welcome, but Mingyu’s hand grabs yours softly and drags you back down.

“I invited you here. It’s not like you’re trespassing.”

“But I’ve been here for hours, is it not too much?”

“I guess I don't want you to leave.”

His hand hasn't let go of yours, his skin against yours waking up your whole nervous system. You like how it feels when he’s looking at you, but you can’t help feeling too observed under his gaze.

“Should we practice one more time?” You get up as your other hand takes Mingyu’s free one to try and get him off the couch too. He doesn’t fight your push, but you still struggle to move him barely an inch.

“Now that I think about it, my feet do really hurt.”

When he stands up, your hands dreadly separate as you go press play on the song you had paused earlier.

“You’re a big and strong man, you can handle one more dance.”

The music starts slowly, and when you turn around to go where Mingyu’s standing, he’s quick to put his hands around your waist and bring you to him.

Like that day in the dance class, your bodies are quickly coordinated. You’ve been over the same dance for over an hour now, so at this point, every step is engrained in your muscle memory forever.

“Why don’t you take the lead on this one?” He might’ve felt your sudden confidence in the moves, but fails to realize it’s only because you’re doing it with him.

“Do you have a death wish? The last time I tried to take the lead on a dance like this, it ended really badly.”

“But you’re doing good now! I’m sure it couldn’t have been that bad.”

“Don’t you remember the senior prom? When I made my date trip and he fell onto the chocolate fountain? He got completely covered in melted chocolate.” He shakes his head, making you more confused. “He dislocated his shoulder. You really don’t remember?

“I don’t-” He chuckles at your story but stops his words when he realizes you don’t get what he wants to say, “We left early.”

“Oh… I guess you had a good time with your date.” Thinking about him with someone else puts a bad taste in your mouth.

“I didn’t have a date, I went with the guys.” Somehow, that’s less believable than you being a good dancer.

“I vaguely remember seeing you dance with a girl. Is my memory failing me?” You remember because you hated it.

“Maybe I did dance with someone, but I couldn’t score a real date.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am! Why don’t you believe me?

“Because I knew at least ten girls who had a crush on you back then.”

The dance is already forgotten. None of you make the effort to go over the moves. With your arms hanging around his neck and his hands holding on to your waist, you’re just going around in slow circles, eyes connected as your talk turns into something more.

“Well, I wasn’t interested in them.”

“But still, you could’ve easily gotten a date.” You could let the subject go, and maybe you should, but you really want to make your point. “I would’ve gone with you.”

“Don’t say things you don’t mean.”

“But I mean it.”

“You wouldn’t have gone with me.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes I do!” His tone gets serious, and it just makes you more desperate to make him understand. He needs to know he’s wrong.

“No, you don’t! You would know if you had asked!”

“I wanted to!

You stop in your tracks, looking straight into his eyes, seeing little hints of shock on his face as he realizes what he said. If your bodies were closer, you’re afraid he could feel that you stopped breathing for a second.

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because I knew at least ten guys who had crushes on you back then,” you’re about to shut him off, but he continues, “and you did end up going with one of them.”

“So, you did see me.”

“Yeah, didn’t stay much after that."

None of you know what to say, as your minds work tirelessly to understand what this conversation means.

“You really should’ve asked me.” There’s so much more you want to say, but you simply can’t.

“You were kind of popular and, I don’t know… It messed with my head.”

“I didn’t care about those stupid labels, and I thought you didn’t either.”

“I know you didn’t, but I wasn’t a confident kid back then, I couldn’t just go up to the girl I liked and ask her out.”

Your jaw reaches the floor after hearing those words. The girl he liked?

Speechless for a few seconds, you can only look at him, trying to figure out if he meant to say those words specifically. He seems to be proud of what he said, showing no sign of regret.

“So, now that you’re all grown up…” you dare to let your fingers caress the skin at the base of his neck, and his hands tighten around you at the touch.

“One would think that, after so many years, things would’ve changed but-”

“I don’t believe you’re not confident by now.”

“That did change, but apparently, other things didn’t, even after growing up.”

He tilts his head to the side cockily, his piercing gaze making you feel hot all over.

“Maybe some things aren’t meant to change.” Like an adrenaline rush, it’s your turn to feel confident as one of your hands starts playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “I'm starting to discover some things are not that different for me either.”

“Could it be, perhaps, the same thing I’m talking about?” His arms wrap around your waist, bringing you closer to him little by little.

“Hmm, I don’t know, you’re being very vague, I could be talking about still enjoying country music.” You joke so he doesn’t notice your heart beating twice as hard as normal.

“I think you know what I mean.” His smirk is one new thing about him, not that you’ve never seen it before, but the reason behind it makes it way more thrilling to see now.

“I want to hear you say it.”

“You really didn’t know? I mean, back then, I always thought I made it obvious.” His chuckle sends shivers down your spine.

“I wish I did.” You can’t help but think about how your life would be if you made a move on him all those years ago. “But I never said anything either, I was shy too.”

“Good thing we can make up for the time we lost.”

His droopy eyes send you down a spiral you have a hard time coming back from, all your insides becoming putty, feeling his want through his embrace, but there’s still one more thing to get to.

“You know… you say you’re so confident now and whatnot, but I still haven’t heard you say it.” The look you give him is all he needs

“Fine, you win, I used to like you, and seeing you again made me realize I still kinda really do, I’m always eager to get your attention and to spend time with you.” He pauses to take the quickest breath ever, all while you’re losing yours. “I know we’re not the same people as back then, but if you want to, we can get to know each other, again, more mature and less stupid. I have my regrets about how I handled my feelings in the past, but I won’t make the same mistakes again. And I will ask you on a date after the wedding, just a heads up.”

“Wow, I was fine with just an ‘I like you’, but it’s nice to see you’re just as down bad for me as I am for you.” You confess with a joke because, how can you possibly answer that? Your brain is barely receiving enough oxygen as it is.

“And one last thing, I really, really, really, want to kiss you right now.”

“Then why are you not doing it?”

It takes a second for the words to register in his head. A second where you only look at each other, almost not believing what’s happening. The air around you gets so thick, so hot, almost unbearably heavy. And just when your hands begin to push his head your way, his lips attack yours.

All the resurfacing feelings come to life, colliding like a thousand stars that have been running to meet for millions of years. His arms around you bring your body closer to his, forcing you on your tiptoes to follow his lead while his hair tangles between your fingers.

It's surprisingly slow, yet hungry and desperate, making the other feel everything through the connection of your lips. You move along with him naturally, and when he bites your lower lip as a request for access, you don’t hesitate. His hands creep under your shirt just as his tongue dares to move past your lips, exploring your whole body to his liking.

Your chests flush together, leaving little to no space between your bodies, and you can do nothing but melt in his embrace. Your hands wander around his arms and back, touching and feeling every muscle they encounter on their way. When his hands travel down your lower back and reach your ass, you sigh on his lips and immediately feel his smirk against you.

A furious knock on the door makes you both jump and separate, leaving you looking at each other, breathless and with confused faces, until you hear a knock again, as strong as the first one. That’s when Mingyu decides to check his phone and sees it's his roommate, who had apparently forgotten his keys. Both a blessing and a curse.

“Bro, what the hell? I’ve been calling you for about 15 minutes.” You hear the door opening, followed by a new, deep voice.

“I told you I had company.” Their voices echo through the hallway.

When they finally reach the living room where you’ve been awkwardly trying to make yourself look presentable, the roommate's face morphs into something, a mix of surprise and realization. You rush to gather your stuff after muttering some variation of ‘hello’ and 'goodbye' to him. Your heart still pumps twice as fast as normal, and you don’t trust you’ll be able to handle yourself if you stay for longer.

“I’ll see you on the weekend?” Mingyu asks when you’ve both reached the entry, his hand on the handle, hesitant to unlock the door.

You want to kiss him again so badly. His lips are parted, still swollen, calling to you to connect them with yours again.

“Find me when you crash the bachelorette party.” You make your best effort to sound confident and not at all dizzy because of him.

“You know about that?”

“The bridesmaids know everything... It’s only a surprise for Olivia.” You peck him goodbye, like a promise for more. And the feeling of his lips on yours lasts all night.

It’s roughly around 1 am. when a high-pitched scream from Olivia announces to everyone at the bar that the bachelor party has officially arrived.

The effects from all the alcohol you consumed in the last 4 hours are just starting to fade, only a little buzz left. But that doesn’t prevent you from seeing what’s happening all the way across the room.

Mingyu standing with his hip resting on the barstool, listening to Cassie as she drunkenly asks him something. You want to stop looking, not wanting to let all your previous feelings resurface again, not after the recent development in your relationship with him. But just as soon as you’re about to turn your head the other way, Mingyu interrupts Cassie’s rumbling and tells her something, to which she doesn’t respond, nods awkwardly, and just walks away, leaving him standing there.

That’s your signal to walk over to him.

“Looks like I found you first.”

“Damn, I wanted to get you a drink first.”

The music and the people drunkenly signing and shouting makes it hard for your voices to reach the other, and Mingyu takes the opportunity to take a step closer to you.

You stand against the bar as the room grows warmer and warmer the closer his body gets to yours. His height taunts you as he stands against the bar as well, forcing you to look up so you can see the smirk on his face. His fingers play with yours as the intensity of his stare increases. You don’t care that you’re in public, that anyone from the wedding can see you two. Maybe you want them to.

“How’s your night going?” His hair tickles the side of your face.

“It was really fun, I might be growing fond of the girls." You don’t remember much, just a vague memory of many different games you played to get drunk, and the feeling of being happy. “How about yours? Don’t tell me you went to a strip club or something like that.”

“Actually, we did a drunk escape room, didn’t even know those existed until today.”

The closeness between you is getting more worrying by the second, mainly because if you hear his low chuckle next to your ear one more time, you might pass out.

“That sounds horrible!” You chuckle away from his personal space, only to encounter his hungry eyes already looking at you.

“It was fun, I wish you could’ve been there.” His honesty has a sultry tone to it that makes your lungs completely empty of air.

“I’m not sure we would’ve made a good team.”

“Why? You’re smart! Or at least you were back then.”

“Hey! I still am!”

“I really have to get to know this new you.”

The pink and blue lights reflect on his face, giving him the most beautiful sparkles on his eyes, directed at you.

“It’s not that new, I’m still very introverted, don’t talk much when there’s a lot of people around.”

“I like that, you’re observant, good thing to be while in a escape room.”

“We’re still talking about that?”

“Maybe, maybe not, I don’t really care, I just wanted to spend time with you.”

“Are you drunk?” You can only ask with a smile plastered on your face, but he shakes his head.

“You kinda make me feel like I’m a teenage boy again, I don’t know how to explain it.”

“I think I get it.” You place your hand on his chest, feeling the beating of his heart under it, even harder than the music blasting out of the speakers.

“You know, back then, every time I had a free period, I would make my friends walk past whatever class you had, just to get to see you, at least for a second.” Out of everything he’s drunkenly confessing, this may be the one that surprises you the most because you really never realized he felt the same. He notices you freezing in place. “Once they found out, I was relentlessly bullied by them.”

“I sure hope it was worth it.” If the lighting was any better, he'd be able to see the cherry red covering your cheeks and ears.

“Every second of it.” Everything around the two of you moves slower, like time’s stopping only for the outside world, and the muffled background noises do nothing to pierce the bubble around you. “I really want to take you on a date, a real one.”

“I would very much like that.”

You can see the gears turning through Mingyu’s eyes, and you move your eyes down to his lips so he can take the hint. But nothing happens as someone else enters your little world.

Olivia’s aware that something’s going on, her eyes switching back and forth between the two of you before she speaks.

“I need your help, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’m getting worried about her.”

“About who? What happened?” Mingyu stays behind you as you turn to Olivia, grabbing one of your hands, and his warmth gives you goosebumps.

“It’s Cassie, she’s been sitting alone in the restroom for I don’t know how long, she's way too drunk and I can’t take care of her.”

You now realize she’s slurring her words, meaning she’s also too drunk and therefore can’t take care of another drunk person, leaving you no choice but to go help Cassie. You look back at Mingyu, who encourages you to go, even if it takes a little too long for his hand to let go of yours.

The graffitied restroom provides you with a little more light than the rest of the place, and when you enter, you recognize Cassie sitting on the floor inside one of the stalls. Luckily there’s no one guarding the bathrooms because if she’s seen throwing up, it could potentially get you both kicked out.

You sit on the dirty floor beside her without saying a word, letting her know you’re here to help without giving her a headache. Her forehead’s resting on top of her knees as she hugs her legs tightly. But after a minute or two of silence, you decide it’s best to check if she’s at least awake.

“Cassie? Are you okay?” Your hand on her shoulder makes her look up at you.

“I don’t feel so good, I just want to sit down for a while.” She sounds tired, her husky voice giving away all the talking and singing she’s been doing all night.

“Do you need anything? I can get you a cup of water.”

“No, please, just stay here a bit, I didn’t want anyone to see me but I don’t want to be alone.”

“Ok, I’ll stay, let me know if you need something, anything.”

Time passes by, the music making it easier for you to not get bored. A few people enter the restroom from time to time, too drunk or too in a hurry to notice you both sitting down. Olivia passes by the door a few times, hovering, checking if everything’s okay (and if you’re still in the same position as the previous time). You just smile and nod, letting her go back to her party time and time again. But at last, in one of her check-ins, she finally walks inside.

“Hey, Mingyu’s looking for you!” Both you and Cassie look up at Olivia, but her eyes point at you. “What do I tell him?”

You instinctively look to Cassie by your side, and her expression falls.

“Don’t, don’t go with him.” She finds the strength to plead to you, but she seems more worried than anything.

“Why? Did he do something? Is that why you’re hiding here?” Olivia asks, and you realize she didn’t leave after you didn’t answer her.

“No, no, I mean, yes I’m hiding from him, but he didn't do anything, it was me, I embarrassed myself.”

“Why are you telling me not to go with him then?”

“Do you like him?”

“I-” Wow, blunt question out of the blue.

“You can be honest, it’s fine.”

“Yeah, I do, I like him.”

Telling them, her, the truth feels kind of freeing. Finally admitting in front of them that you like someone, after not being able to for so many years, it’s like you can finally breathe.

“Then, for your own good, don’t go with him, he’s seeing someone.”

“What? How do you know?” That freedom lasts barely seconds before a new weight falls right on top of your lungs.

“He told me, when the guys got here, he said that he’s been after a girl for years and they recently started going out.”

“Are you sure? Did he use those words?”

“I’m not saying it verbatim, I don’t remember it exactly word for word, but that’s what he meant.”

Could he possibly be talking about you? How recent is ‘recently’ supposed to mean? You haven’t even started officially dating. Is confessing your feelings considered the start of dating? Is it supposed to be this confusing? Are you going to believe her? Not that Cassie’s a liar, but you don’t know the context nor the exact words he used, and she doesn’t know what happened between you and him either.

“Should I go tell him something?” Olivia's already standing up, your silence not helping the situation.

“Just-" You don’t want to push him away, but it’s not the time to resolve this. The whole thing is too confusing to be making desperate decisions at this hour of the night, “Tell him to go have fun with the guys, I’m getting Cassie home.”

The loudest alarm you could’ve ever set up wakes you up with a jump. Your head hurts like your inside out emotions are building houses inside your skull. But the memories still hit you as soon as your eyelids burst open. Some decisions were definitely made the night before. Wrong ones? That’s to be seen today.

And thanks to the gods and Olivia’s always late waking family, you’re not supposed to be at the venue until 11 am. Only bad news, It’s on a luxury complex outside the city. You have time for a real breakfast and a shower, but all the thinking and feeling will have to wait.

You unlock your phone to find the last text conversation open and the messages you barely remember sending stare at you through the dim screen.

Mingyu: you left so suddenly

Mingyu: everything ok?

You: yeah

You: had to take Cass to her place, she wasn’t feeling well

Mingyu: that’s too bad, hope she feels better

Mingyu: you just got home?

You: yep, about to go to bed

Mingyu: great, just checking before i head to sleep

Mingyu: sleep well, big day tomorrow

Admittedly, you were a little dry. Cassie’s words were still lingering on your mind, making you doubt everything. One side of your brain telling you that he was probably talking about you, he explained what he felt and what he wanted and sounded sure and truthful. But, the other part of your brain, the still self-conscious and self-doubting side, also makes valid points. The void years in between your relationship weren’t mentioned in his confession, and you technically aren’t dating. He hasn’t even asked you out yet! It’s too conflicting. But you know you have to face both of them today. After the ceremony.

The taxi ride to the venue is not only long but full of traffic. The sun shining bright directly to your face, the light humming of the driver to the songs of the radio and the occasional car horn on the distance, somehow make it bearable, with all the thoughts about the previous night, switching sides between the he said she said, it’s nice to have something constant while your minds goes on a rollercoaster.

A rollercoaster that doesn’t stop even when you arrive. As soon as you step foot outside the car, Olivia’s mom rushes you upstairs to where the make-up artists set up. There’s no time to admire the beautiful countryside venue. You walk past the door to where the ceremony’s going to be held later, but rush up the stairs without even looking. The green dress already waiting for you at the door, an infinite echo of voices and even more people running around make the atmosphere feel dizzying.

Nothing slows down for even a second. Even when you’re sitting down having your make-up done, around you there’s only people rushing to do everything, stressing about the little details, people running into the room to tell Olivia or her mom about decorations, the wedding planner coming in and out constantly, checking everything’s in order. It’s kind of beautiful how all this mess has the sole purpose of making today the best day for the couple. Even if it doesn’t look like it, no one will remember the dress that wasn’t properly ironed, or the string of hair that had too much hairspray on it, or the too slippery shoes that made it a chore to walk on the tiled floor.

So much chaos happens between the hair and make-up, and then with the photoshoots, you don’t have time to talk to Mingyu. Your eyes would cross from time to time, but those milliseconds of him in a suit glaring at you from across the room are enough, and there’s so much of that you can take before an internal chain reaction begins.

The walk downstairs, after all the make-up retouches and fixes to any rebellious stray hair that didn’t want to stay in place, feels like the first calm and slow moment of the day. As the steps get closer and closer to the bottom floor, the red carpet muffling the clicking of your shoes, your insides feel fire-like when you see Mingyu waiting for you by the final step, an unknowing smile on his face. His eyes drill holes on your figure, scanning you up and down shamelessly.

“You chose this one, I like it.” He whispers by your ear as you walk to the door, where every pair is already waiting. A little smile shows on your face, but it fades when your eyes encounter Cassie’s, watching the two of you with a frown so little you only notice because she immediately relaxes her face.

The music starts before you can say anything to Mingyu, and one by one, each of the bridesmaids start walking down the aisle, arms linked with the groomsmen, gracefully walking forward as the eyes of every guest fall on them. Your arm tangled with his is the first touch you share since many days ago, and even with all the conflict making your mind a blur, your heart speeds up at the feeling of his muscles.

Nothing seems slow anymore, and the ceremony almost goes by without noticing. There isn’t one second where you don’t feel Mingyu’s eyes on you, making it impossible to focus – or pretend to focus – on what the priest is saying.

The moment your brain reconnects with your ears, Thomas delivers the most beautiful vows you’ve ever heard. You met the guy only once, never even spoken to him, but the way he speaks so fondly about Olivia makes your heart clutch in your chest, and your throat tries to fight it, but you end up bursting with tears. But you’re not the only one with a cascade of dramatic tears falling with seemingly no end. As the room fills with applause and even some whistles at the first kiss between the officially married couple, you see some people with tissues, quietly blowing their nose.

But the never-ending rush in time continues, everyone sprinting to sit at their tables for the reception. The last retouches of make-up get done quickly. The girls gossip to kill the time before the dance, because for them it’s moving so slowly, but in the blink of an eye, you’re going out the door once again, just as Cassie taps on your shoulder. You turn to her, expecting her to be angry, or at least to start speaking, but it looks like she’s still figuring out what to say.

“Thank you, for taking care of me last night, I’m sure you would’ve preferred to enjoy the party.”

“I wasn’t going to leave you alone, it’s fine, you don’t have to thank me. Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah, I am! But actually, I wanted to apologize.” Your head spins, dizzy from the world suddenly stopping hearing her words. “I didn’t know there was something going on between you two.”

“There’s not- I mean, not much happened, I didn’t want to cause a fuzz over it.”

“But you should’ve told me you liked him, at least! If I knew about it, I wouldn’t have gone after him.” You see in her eyes nothing but honesty. “I know we’re not as close as before, but these are the things we need to tell each other. It’s the girl code.”

“I don’t really know why I didn’t, I know I should’ve, I didn’t know how.” You’ve now started to go downstairs to the reception, already the time to dance in pairs.

“Look, it’s okay if you’re not comfortable telling me this, but did something happen? Was he talking about you last night?”

You’ve reached where everyone is waiting, and you’re too embarrassed to look up and possibly find Mingyu standing there, leg-melting and breathtaking.

“I thought about it but I don’t know, maybe?”

Back at the reception, the music starts, signaling the newlyweds are about to begin their first dance, meaning in no time you’ll have to step in and dance around them.

“I’m going to ask you three questions and you just have to answer yes or no. There's no need for explanation, okay?”

“O…Kay?”

“So, you two knew each other in school, did you like him?” You nod shyly, not looking in her eyes, embarrassed to be talking about this so openly, “Did he like you?” You nod again, “And did something happen recently that would indicate that he would like to date you in the near future?”

You give her a final nod and finally look up at her. She sighs, taking your hand and squeezing it to make you pay attention.

“Then he meant you dummy! Go, talk to him. He’s been staring at you all day like a lost puppy.”

When you dare to look his way, where you just knew he was standing, he’s looking at you, a little smirk on his lips and subtly motioning he's ready to take your hand. You didn’t notice it was already time, and everyone around you stands in their position.

The pairs start entering one by one, and your smile trembles, feeling the eyes of every guest on you. Your fingers barely graze his, but they feel raw, like you can feel every particle of his hand below yours. The electric fire emerging from where your skin connects with his runs through your veins in record time.

But as soon as the music starts and Mingyu turns you so you’re looking at him, everything is forgotten. The steps come easily, his eyes calm but observing, his hand on your waist guiding you as he did every time you practiced.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” He whispers, not wanting to disrupt the moment, but knowing it’s the only time you’ll get alone.

“I swear I didn’t mean to.”

You panic. There was so much to do and so few words you could come up with to say to him that maybe you unconsciously avoided him by locking yourself up in the make-up room.

“Did I do something wrong?” He doesn’t sound hurt, but rather just plain curious, eager to work this out between you two.

“No! it was just a misunderstanding,” he waits for you to continue, but the part of your brain that makes sense starts crumbling, making it impossible to form a coherent argument, “I- can I ask you something? It might sound stupid, I’m warning you.”

“Go ahead.” He chuckles, his feet continuing to dance while you've already forgotten about it. One of your hands stays on his shoulder, while the other is being held by him, still in the air by your sides, reaching the height of your shoulders.

“You’re not dating anyone, are you?”

He doesn’t let the silence even come close to the two of you, chuckling quietly so you’re the only one who can hear it.

“I’m not, hard to believe I know, but I’m painfully single.”

“Great, I just wanted to make sure.”

“I remember telling you I want to take you on a date.”

“Y-yeah, of course I remember that too."

The pit of your stomach lights up at the remainder of that afternoon in his home, your bodies as close as they are at this moment.

“Then what made you think that?”

“You just, you said to Cassie last night that you started seeing someone recently and, I don’t know, we didn’t technically start dating, so I panicked.” Saying it out loud to him, it sounds ridiculous, but if he thinks that, he doesn’t show it.

“Oh that, yeah, I might’ve gotten ahead of myself, but hey, think of it as manifesting.” He’s so charming that you don’t care that he’s making no sense.

“Next time, don’t tell a drunk girl who’s flirting with you the wrong information. She might spread it around.”

The synchronized chuckle you let out makes you pay attention to the forgotten situation. You’re dancing and haven’t tripped once, like your muscles got a life of their own and remembered every single step. And you suddenly realize how close your body is to Mingyu’s. One hand down the small of your back, pressing just enough to hold you in his personal space, his face close enough that you could concentrate on his breathing and feel the light exhales on your face.

When the music ends, the applause makes you look around, and your cheeks feel warm immediately, noticing all the eyes on every one of you. But the attention is short-lived, as you and Mingyu walk quickly to your table so the couple can do the welcome toasts. You don't miss how he slides your chair closer to his before you sit down.

Sitting by your side, Mingyu’s body and yours are connected by an electric current, drawing you closer. His knee stays glued to yours, and the cut on the side of your dress allows your bare skin to brush against the fabric of his pants. A conversation takes place between everyone at the table, one of the guys telling a story about something funny that happened with Tom back in high-school, but it’s hard to pay any real attention when Mingyu’s fingers start tracing circles on your knee. He’s not even doing to be a tease. It seems like it’s a habit of his, one that you’re just discovering. You don’t stop your fingers from playing with his, and a subtle smirk forms on his lips at your action.

It’s not like you’re doing anything too flashy or indecent, but you do your best to mask your reactions to his touches, to try and keep the people of the table unaware of the not so innocent things going on under the fancy tablecloth. He only notices your changes because he’s paying attention to you. The way your chest rises just a tad bit more when his hand goes a little over your knee, or how you drink from your cold glass of water when he presses on the skin of your inner thigh, but when he’s about to move his hand off of you, you put yours on his to keep it in place. You also notice things throughout the night, for example, that Mingyu isn’t drinking a lot, restricting to one glass of champagne per serving. You do the same, wanting to remember this night in the future.

Mingyu stands up when the dancefloor opens again, turning down an offer to go to the bar for something stronger than sparkling wine. Instead, he reaches for your hand, silently inviting you to dance with him, to which you agree, with a smile and avoiding his eyes. Following behind him, he doesn’t let go of your hand, even when you’ve reached the spot he wanted. People join you on the dancefloor, drunkenly vibing to the dj set, surrounding you, and blocking you from anyone you know. It’s feels almost private. Whatever song is playing on the speakers, it doesn’t prevent you from following your own rhythm in your own world. Your arms wrap around Mingyu’s neck, and both of his hands hold your waist, mirroring the evening at his place.

“So, tell me, what other embarrassing things did you do when you liked me?”

He throws his head back in embarrassment, sighing with a smile before daring to look at you again. His ears turn a light shade of pink, and you swear you can feel his heartbeat between your bodies.

“I really told you that, did I? I was hoping you wouldn't remember.”

“Nope, I remember it very vividly actually.”

“Let’s leave the embarrassing stories for the future, I wasn’t in my best condition last night.”

“You’re making me too curious now, but how drunk did you get last night?”

“Honestly, I was just nervous about seeing you and about tonight.” He might be confessing another embarrassing thing, but behind his truthful tone, there’s something you can’t quite decipher.

“What’s there to be nervous about tonight?”

Your heels allow you to be in his line of sight, and your chests are too close. If you inhaled deeply, you’d be able to feel him on you. He takes advantage of your new height and forces your attention to go to his lips, smirking shamelessly as he thinks his next words.

“Did I tell you how pretty you look today?"

One hand comes close to your face, removes a strand of hair from blocking your view, and tucks it behind your ear.

“Oh, shut up.”

You can’t even think of a snarky response, your brain melting and showing just how much he affects you. Goosebumps spread all across your arms and back at the feel of his hand caressing your skin.

“I can’t, it’s all I’ve thinking about all day, you, this dress, and you in this dress.”

You instinctively hide your face on the crook of his neck, his cologne invading your senses. It’s hard to think of words when he’s looking at you like he wants to eat you whole.

“I got it because of you. Do you really like it?”

Not that you need any confirmation, since he’s told you twice already, but it wouldn’t hurt to hear it from him one more time. Your reveal makes his smirking lips graze your ear, sending shivers down your spine, and his voice drops an octave to answer.

“I love the dress, but I’ll love it more once I get it off you.”

“I hate you.”

You barely manage to say, your chest rising but breathless at the same time. Your body’s automatic reaction is to push him away, and your hands go straight to his chest to try, but of course it’s pointless. His hands catch yours, not letting you leave his personal space. He taunts you by spinning you around, and once you do a full twirl, he grabs you by the waist again and brings your body to his.

“You have no idea how hard it was for me that day when you stepped out, wearing this.” He gets closer to your ear with every word. You hate it and love it. For one, you can hide from his teasing eyes and blush in peace, but on the other hand, you are cheek to cheek with him, his breath fanning lightly on your side, and you can feel he’s still smirking. “You’re lucky there were other people in the room.”

A breath catches in your throat, and you swallow hard. You thank all the gods there are out there for being surrounded by drunk people. Because to anyone on their senses, your reaction to Mingyu's words would be too obvious.

“I really hate you right now.”

It’s getting harder and harder to ignore the heat growing at the pit of your stomach.

“You don’t.”

“I do.”

“I think it’s quite the opposite actually.”

How are you supposed to play hard to get when his hands hold you like he wants to keep you forever?

“You think you know everything.”

You catch your voice about to tremble when his free hand starts going down the side of your arm, from your shoulder down until your hand, and interlocks his fingers with yours.

“If you hate me then, I can’t tell you the secret I’ve been keeping all night.”

“Have you been secretly writing an article about how to break someone’s heart in 10 days?”

“I love that movie, but it has been well over 10 days, I couldn’t make the deadline.”

“Rom-com connoisseur, noted.” You jokingly nod, but not forgetting what’s important. “Now tell me.”

“So, you know how they told us there were rooms available for anyone that couldn't drive home?” You nod, too enthusiastically. “I may or may not have booked one for tonight, and if you want to, there’s space for one more, we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to…” He keeps talking, something about you watching him do something, but you get lost in the way his lips move as he talks, so pink and fast and hypnotizing.

“Isn’t it rude to just leave?”

The question leaves your mouth more to tease him than anything else. You want to be alone with him so badly, feel his body all over yours, his hands everywhere he can reach, ripping this godforsaken dress off you.

Before the last food serving rolls out and everyone scatters to go back to their seat, you sneak out of the reception, but the drunk bodies are not making it easy. Mingyu leads the way with you grabbing his hand and walking behind him. You don’t know if you could’ve managed another teasing touching session under the table.

You take a left turn into the hallway just at the same time as one of Olivia's drunk uncles, a stranger to the both of you, who’s half asleep using the wall to steady himself as he walks. The music echoes through the walls, and you can only look at each other, half about to burst out laughing and half needing to take the others clothes off, as you walk as nonchalantly as possible past the man trying his best to open his door.

Giggling like teenagers, you finally reach your room at the end of the hallway, but the second you enter, the atmosphere changes. Standing by the closed door, shoes off, panting, and frozen in place, you only look at each other. Your breaths regulate, and your smiles slowly fade off your expressions as the realization hits. It’s real. He’s here, and you’re here, in a room just for the two of you. His eyes are bound to your parted lips, but you wouldn’t know, as yours are also unable to leave his.

Like magnets, brutally drawn to each other, your lips finally reconnect in a hungry, desperate kiss. After learning how sweet he tastes, how his lips glide over yours so easily, how he wraps his arms around you to keep you close to him, there was only so much time you could spend in abstinence.

No words needed, the want translating in the way your hands push him against you, his hands traveling across your back, touching and groping everywhere he can reach. After the long day testing your patience, neither of you can slow down.

His fang claws at your bottom lip, making you whimper against him. He drinks in any sound you make, his arms bringing your body impossibly closer to his, almost making you one. No one is in control, both of you just touching and grabbing anywhere you can, desperate for more.

Your mouths reluctantly separate as Mingyu starts leaving a trail of kisses down your neck and biting lightly on your sensitive skin, making you gasp. You can only thread your fingers on his hair, encouraging him to leave any marks he wishes to.

“Is this okay?”

His raspy voice travels to your ears, and you don’t trust yourself to not make unholy noises if you open your mouth to answer. But just as you’re humming, he digs his teeth just above your clavicle, turning your hum into a moan.

He slowly slides the straps of your dress down your shoulders, his fingers teasing your skin on the way down. His hand travels across your chest, only the silky green fabric in between your fiery skin and his teasing fingers. They go over your pointy hard nipples, feeling everything on its way, but not letting it stay anywhere for more than a second.

“Are you going to take it off?”

Your breathlessness makes him chuckle, smug and cocky as ever.

“Rushed?”

“Very. You’re the one that put the thought in my head, now take care of it!” His hands sneak up your back, playing with the zipper of your dress.

“Don’t act so innocent.” His tone goes straight to your core. The fabric around you loosens up as his hand runs down your spine, but he stops before it gets too loose to slip down. “You think I didn’t see the way you looked at me all day? You’re not slick.”

He takes a step back to take off his suit jacket, absentmindedly throwing it to the side without breaking eye contact. But you don't let yourself get shy.

“Who said I was trying to hide it?”

Your hands run from his shoulders to his chest, unbuttoning his shirt one by one as his breathing speeds up. The warmth of his body envelops your hands, your fingers barely grazing the skin above his pants, and his muscles tense at your touch before you slip his shirt off.

“Now who’s the one teasing?”

Pulling on the red tie around his neck, he swallows hard as you bring his head closer to yours, so close you unconsciously flutter your eyes closed. His bare chest rises against yours as you undo his tie slowly. You could tilt your chin up and break the tension once more, but something in you wants to keep teasing him.

A step back is all you need to have his lips chase you, and he opens his eyes, droopy and confused, to find you slipping your dress off. His stare turns surprised and hungry as you reveal yourself for him, but his body stays frozen in place.

“I’m supposed to do that.”

It’s your time to chuckle now, taking a step forward again. His hands slot on your waist instinctively, traveling to your stomach, enjoying the feeling of your soft skin against his hands.

“You’ll get to do it next time.” The sentence is almost left unfinished, a breath getting caught in your throat when his hands dare go up your chest. But they’re gone in a heartbeat, as they reach your face and tilt it so you can properly look at him.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” No teasing tone on his voice.

“I’m literally naked in front of you.” Your hands go back up to his neck, pushing his head slightly down, reaching a hypnotic closeness. “I want this, I want you Mingyu.”

Confirmation is all he needed to let loose, to let the want take over his body and soul. He connects your lips with force, and wastes no time. With his hands on your ass and his tongue working its way inside your mouth, he stumbles backwards until you both fall on the bed.

With you on top of Mingyu, your hands make their way across his chest, his golden skin glistening due to the sweat. You can feel his hard muscles tense under your touch, making him sigh on your mouth when you find his sensitive spots. His hands move to your hips and push you down on him, making you both moan un unison because of the first friction between your cores.

His growing hard grinds deliciously against you. Even with his pants still between you, you can feel how big he is, and the wet patch on your panties grows by the second. Your lips are still smashed together, a mess of saliva allowing your lips you glide faster and hungrier on his, your tongues becoming one, not wanting to separate ever again.

Your hands find their way down his abdomen, reaching where his pants hang on his hips. The absence of a belt makes it easier for you to unbutton them, and he takes the off expertly, all without ever taking his hands off you.

The second your hand sneaks under his underwear, he groans under you, disconnecting your mouths to take a look at you.

“Is it embarrassing to be already close?” His blood red lips are parted, breathing out his confession, and you almost moan, clenching around nothing because of the sight, or his confession, or maybe the whimper he fights when you wrap your hand around him.

“You’re so big, fuck.” You sigh, and the side of his mouth quirks up, but slowly disappears as you start sliding your hand down, smearing the precum on his length.

“I’m not gonna hurt you.”

His eyes have a mix of concern and lust on them, and your body doesn’t know how to react, your stomach flips, your hands tremble, and your underwear grows wetter.

“I know you won’t.”

You climb down on him, your eyesight reaching where his boxers begin to tent. His gaze follows you, like he can’t believe the reality of what’s happening. You take off the last piece of clothing left on his body, and his dick springs free, standing proud and angry red in front of your eyes. The throb on your throat makes you move forward, wrapping your lips around his leaking tip.

“Wait. Don’t.” You look up at him but he’s facing the ceiling, ears red and eyes closed. “I can’t.”

“I haven’t done anything.” You play innocent, and a smirk appears on your face when he finally looks at you, resting on his elbows.

“Exactly, that’s why I can’t, I need to have a little bit of pride left.”

“What do you suggest we do?” You slowly climb up on him again, his hands moving to your hips like they got a life of their own. One hand on his chest and one hand on his jaw, you kiss him softly, and he melts at your touch.

A soft moan is heard, could be from him, could be from you, but your mind is too clouded to care when he rolls his hips against yours, following the pace of your lazy kiss. A rush of arousal takes over your body when he presses you harder against him, his length sliding perfectly with your core, your wetness making it easier to reach every point that makes you gasp.

“I want,” his lips stop working on yours, but his arms keep you from separating. You feel his every breath, every gasp at the friction, and his lips graze yours when he speaks, “I want to taste you.”

“Fuck.” He might just be able to feel the new rush of wetness dampening your panties further and smearing around his hard below you. His hands push your hips up his body. He told you what he wants, and he’s showing you exactly how he wants it. “Are you sure? I don’t want to crush your skull.”

“I wouldn’t mind that, at least I’d die happy.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that if you want it.”

The chuckle he lets out reverberates from his chest up through your whole body. There’s not much you can do besides complying with his wants, especially with the way your body’s reacting to the sole idea of it and the way he’s moving you to where he wants.

His hands sneak under the strings of your underwear, and as you climb higher and higher, he removes them easily, leaving you bare on top of him.

“You’re so wet, shit.” Your pussy pulsates just above his face. You can’t see his reaction, but you for sure can hear it, “I would’ve done this sooner if I knew this was waiting for me.”

From your point of view, his whole face is covered, by you, on top of him, only his messy hair laying on the mattress can be seen. A view that’s dizzying and hypnotic at the same time, and you can’t think of any answer to give him. His breath on your wet core makes you shiver, but you’re afraid to sit down, afraid you’ll hurt him.

Mingyu senses your hesitation and gives you no more time to doubt. His head rises until his tongue meets your folds, flattening on you, desperate to make you feel good. The sudden stimulation makes your legs tremble, and you would've fell on his face if it wasn’t from his hands still holding your hips.

He starts making out with your cunt, moaning and groaning against it like this is also pleasurable for him. His tongue finds every place that makes you gasp, moan and whimper, and with every lap at your folds, a nasty wet sound accompanies it.

A shaky moan escapes out of you when he envelops your clit with his lips and sucks lightly, making you grab the headboard so you don’t fall on him.

You must’ve fully sit on his mouth in your search for support, because he moans louder against your pussy, and you can feel everything. His lips and tongue working to drink every drop of arousal that leaves you, discovering every sensitive spot you didn’t know about.

The tip of his nose bumps your clit just as his tongue finds its way inside your pulsing hole, and you instinctively move your hand down to pull at his hair. The action encourages him to go faster, harder, and when you grind on his face and he groans like he’s enjoying it, you let go.

Riding him, chasing your high, you’re using his tongue for your own pleasure. Your hand on his hair tightens, and you lose the little control you had of your throat. But the unfiltered sounds you make just push him harder. Every one of your senses is clouded. The wet sounds, the way he moans against you, his tongue already knowing where to go to make you squirm, everything culminates without warning.

You cum on his tongue faster than you have ever before. Your thighs tremble at either side of his head, and you realize you’re crushing him between them. But he doesn't let you get up. His tongue continues to work on you,

He cleans you up, drinking every last drop of arousal smeared on your skin. You spasm over him every time he –not so accidentally– flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue, starting to get you overstimulated.

You use the strength you have left to push his head back, and take advantage of his surprise to plop down on his side, your back on the mattress and your pussy finally away of his eager mouth.

“Are you okay?”

From the corner of your eye, while you try to recover, you see Mingyu doing his best to clean the lower side of his face.

“Yeah, fuck, that was a lot.” You manage to say in between breaths. “I need a second.”

“If you’re too tired, we can st- fuck.”

You don’t give time to overthink, quickly getting on top of him again, your swollen dripping cunt right on top of his still hard cock.

“Second's over.” Only a little smirk is the warning he gets before you’re grinding on top of him again. All of your juices mix as you slowly ride back and forth, his length sliding between your wet folds deliciously. “I’m clean, and on the pill, are you?”

“On the pill? Unfortunately not.” How he manages to make you laugh even on your horniest moments will forever remain a mystery. “But I’m clean, I’ve never had sex without a condom before.”

“Me neither. I guess this will be a new experience for the both of us.” The sole thought of it makes his dick twitch under you.

“Are you sure?” His hand cups the side of your face, and his eyes look at you with such care that you could melt in an instant.

“Yes, I don’t want to wait anymore. We’ve waited long enough.” That seems to relax him, his hands beginning to roam freely across your torso.

Sliding forward makes the veins of his cock drag along every sensitive spot and you both moan before his tip finally prods at your entrance. A loud hiss comes out of him as you align yourself with his length and push his tip in.

But before you can go any further, he wraps his arms around your waist and turns you around so your back is against the mattress. You gasp at the sudden change, and when he starts slowly sinking into you, filling every possible space inside you, you lose your breath.

His cock being covered by your fluids makes it easier, and when he finally bottoms out, so deep you feel him everywhere, you hear him trying to muffle a moan. Your gummy walls clamp around him, trying to get used to his size. The twitch of his length feels stronger while inside you, and you know he’s trying to resist the urge to pound into you.

“Move, please, I need you.” Your pathetic whimper triggers another smirk out of him, and as he moves down to give you a soft kiss, his eyes darken.

“Whatever my girl wants.”

The slow drag of his cock as he starts sliding it out almost make you delirious, but before his tip slips out, he snaps his full length right back in, making your body jolt upwards. You can't speak properly, a curse you can’t even hear leaves your mouth before he repeats the action, again and again.

“So deep, Mingyu, fuck.” The brutal pace he sets has him abusing every single sensitive spot inside you, even the ones you didn’t know about, hitting relentlessly where it makes you scream, and you’re seeing stars.

“You don’t say my name often,” his voice is raspy and deep, almost mirroring the way his cock pistons inside of you, “I like how it sounds coming out of you."

Your palms are against the headboard and you’re sure the bed hitting against the wall can be heard from other rooms, but when one of his hands sneak between your bodies and starts circling your clit, you stop caring all along.

The grinding of your hips matches his rhythm, accentuating everything as he drives you closer and closer. With his face just above yours, you can only look him in the eyes and let him watch your face contort in pleasure feeling every vein of his cock dragging inside of you. With any other person, you would be self-conscious, but as he finds that spot inside you that makes you squirm, you forget the world around you and focus on grabbing his strong arms for support.

His teeth find your neck again, biting and kissing on your soft skin, pushing you closer and closer to the edge, and he doesn’t stop drilling his hips into you. Somehow, you feel him deeper with every thrust, and the only thing you can do is claw your nails on his arms and back, encouraging him more and more.

“You’re so tight, shit.” His hips stutter when you clench hearing his voice. “Tell me you’re close, please, fuck, I don’t now how long I got."

“Yes! Yes, don’t stop.” You tighten impossibly harder around him when you feel him pinch one of your nipples. He’s literally everywhere, stimulating every spot to tip you over the edge.

Your arms and legs cage his body so close to yours that he has trouble keeping up with his pace, but that doesn't stop him from pounding hard. The sound of skin your skin hitting against his and his groans are like music to your ears.

It's when his thumb teases your clit again that you finally snap.

You tremble around him, moaning uncontrollably as he keeps pounding into you, prolonging your orgasm as he pleases and chasing his own. But he’s far gone too. Your sweet moans in his ear and your walls clenching around him so perfectly are enough to have him spilling inside you.

Sleepiness is about to get you when you feel him sliding out you and plopping by your side. Naturally, one of his arms slots under you as your head rests on the crook of his neck.

There’s silence while you both catch your breaths, his hand softly drawing circles on your back and yours on his chest. As reality sinks in, giddiness fills your entire body, and you can’t contain the smile growing against his golden skin.

“Did you do any embarrassing things back then?” The sudden interrogation makes your cheeks turn red.

“I’m guessing there’s no way out of this, right?” You avoid looking up at him to not make your shyness obvious, and you feel him shake his head as an answer. “Fine… you know… your fangs?”

“My fangs?!” Amusement and surprise mix on his voice.

“Fuck this is so embarrassing.” You’re caged between his arms but you manage to cover your face with your hands.

“You liked my fangs?”

“I still do, but yeah, I would just draw little fangs everywhere, I guess no one ever noticed because they looked more like vamp–"

“Would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow?” He luckily interrupts your embarrassing rant with his pending question.

“Already? You want to see me again that badly?” You feel the chuckle on his chest before you hear it, and at that moment, it’s the best sound you’ve ever heard.

“I plan on taking you on dates at least three times a week. You’re never getting rid of me now.” He embraces you in his arms, chests flushed together, and when you tilt your head up, he’s already looking at you, expectant for your answer. “So, what do you say?”

“Yes, I would love to have dinner with you tomorrow.” The smile he gives you might be the most blinding smile you’ve ever seen. “But just so you know, I do not have sex on first dates.”

thank you so much for reading♥♥ sorry this took so long to finish

#mingyu au #seventeen au #seventeen smut #mingyu smut #svt smut #kim mingyu au #svt au #kim mingyu smut #mingyu imagine #mingyu x reader

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everytimewetouch-dot-mp3 · 2 months ago

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svsss omegaverse au where only those with profound cultivation ability develop into alphas or omegas. this means both powerful spiritual cultivators and powerful demon lines

under luo binghe’s rule, any alpha or omega in the general populace is brought to bingge’s palace. omega women are added to the harem without question, tho there are a notable few alpha women there as well (shl and lmy).

sy transmigrates into a wandering omega cultivator exploring the world (the world building was the best part of that dumbfuck novel and now he gets to experience it firsthand!!!). his exploration quickly takes him from the few safe remaining human cities and into the wider world.

he’s chased for days by different demon groups until one finally catches him, because junshang’s been hell-bent on finding some particular male omega for the past few months. he’s put out a bounty and everything; whoever brings the right omega gets riches and their choice of one treasure from junshang’s vault.

everyone thinks he’s gonna kill this dude. they assume the omega wronged junshang somehow and he wants revenge. sy is scared absolutely shitless. these guys tie him up in immortal binding cables and beat him up a little bit. by the time they make it to the underground palace, sy looks fuckin rough

and surprisingly, lord luo is not pleased by this. so displeased, in fact, that he cuts the demons down right there in the middle of his reception hall? sy is 100% sure he’s gonna be next and he nearly passes out when bingge approaches. (part of him is screaming because!!!! luo binghe!!! in the flesh!!!!! with an air of power and deadly beauty and strength!!!! the protagonist!!!)

lbg studies sy’s face for a minute, then has servants take him away. he’s bathed (THOROUGHLY!! maybe TOO thoroughly!!! he can wash his own ass!! thank you!!) and styled, and with the cables removed he can finally heal his injuries from being captured.

the next time they meet, lbg seems weirdly angry. his hands are shaking and his face is red, and every time he makes eye contact with sy, he growls and looks sharply away. he’s definitely barely holding back from killing sy!! maybe it’s because sy left the human cities? maybe it’s because he was poking around somewhere off-limits?? sy has no idea what he did.

lbg leads him down down to the water prison, and again sy almost passes out. my mans definitely pukes into the water just from the smell alone. it’s…a gory scene. but what’s most unsettling about it isn’t the emptiness in sqq’s eyes or the desperate grunting that only becomes louder the closer lbg brings sy.

what’s most unsettling is how similar they look. they could be brothers, their family resemblance is powerful. same face shape, same nose, same cheekbones.

and sy gets it then. bingge is done playing with sqq; there’s nothing really left to do to him (though he’s still got his dick…sy was one of the loudest proponents of cutting it off for what he did to ning yingying!) so lbg must be looking for a replacement.

lbg studies them both for a long time, as if cataloguing all the similarities between their faces. the whole time, sy is shaking, trying not to fall over. eventually, lbg must be satisfied, because he looks sy up and down slowly before muttering. ‘you’ll do for now. we can see how you measure up.’

POORLY!!! shen yuan is determined to measure up extremely poorly to that old shizun of lbg’s!! to save his own skin, he’ll be nothing like that asshole!!

thus begins shen yuan’s plan to treat the emperor with such doting, kind respect that he’ll see nothing of sqq in him beyond his unfortunate face!! surely lord luo won’t want to kill someone so kind to him!!

(every measure of shen yuan’s kindness is overwhelming to lbg. after so long he’s found what that other him flaunted in his face. a close relative of his shizun’s, no doubt, (maybe a twin separated at birth?) who became that other binghe’s shizun in that timeline. he’s kind and gentle and so concerned with binghe’s wellbeing in a way…no one has since his mother, so so long ago. that one morning with the other shizun was so sweet, but this—having this omega here in his palace, fussing at him to eat more and dress more warmly when he goes to the north, smiling unrestrained, smelling so impossibly sweet—this is so much better than he could have imagined. luo bingge will convince this shen yuan to be his omega. not as a concubine, but as a proper wife. first wife, maybe. empress, even. whatever it takes to get him to say yes. whatever it takes to keep him.)

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silverskyeline · 4 months ago

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'joyride' 18+

✭ logan promptober day 1 - motorbike oneshot - logan fucks you on his (scotts) motorbike in the middle of the forest because you can't keep it down inside the mansion. (1.7k words) pairing - logan howlett (x-men timeline) + afab!reader tags - established relationship, reader lives at the x-mansion, pet names + praising (princess, doll, good girl etc), he fucks you on scotts bike, lots of dirty talk, dom!logan and sub!reader, wet mentions, creampie, overstimulation, reader orgasms twice, he covers your mouth to keep you quiet, outdoor sex, a little rough, reader wears a skirt.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

it's dark, the trees and forest surrounding the road only serving to cloak the ground below even further. you can make out his silhouette above you, lit only by the moon high in the sky. he's big, broad, towering over you as his frame moves with each thrust, casting a shadow down upon your body.

he's got you laying on your back on his bike parked at the side of the road. well, scott's bike. logan would clean it before he returned it, or maybe he wouldn't. scott was well acquainted with cleaning up messes.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

you fit perfectly against the seat, your back supported against the fuel tank with your legs draped over either side of him on his thighs. his rough hands had hiked your shirt up over your chest, revealing your breasts that he'd littered with kisses just moments before plunging deep inside of you.

"wore a skirt cus' you knew i was gonna fuck you, huh?" he grins, you can just about make out a flash of white from his teeth in the darkness. you don't want to say yes, too embarrassed to, but he knows that's exactly why you dressed the way you did. "givin' me easy access? how kind of you, doll."

soft little moans are slipping from your lips from the way his cock eases past your panties he's pushed to the side and glides inside of you with little resistance. he fills you so perfectly, your walls have become accustomed to his thick length and crave the way it stretches you out just right.

he's holding you in place, gripping your waist as he picks up the pace. the bike creaks a little with the movement, protesting under the rigorous thrusting. "good girl. . ." he coos with a low grumble, "tell me how it feels, tell me how i'm makin' you feel."

"feels so good," you whimper, it's all you can manage, letting your head fall back against the metal of the handlebars, one hand gripping the side of the bike and the other gripping the front of logan's white tank to keep yourself steady.

he could listen to you all day, he's drowning in the noises you make, his heightened hearing serving him well - the quiet mewls, the wet sounds from your dripping pussy, the way your breath hitches in your throat. logan drinks it all up, his mouth watering, he can't get enough.

"bet you were gettin' wet the whole way here," he grumbles through each thrust, "bet you left a real pretty wet patch on the seat, didn't ya?" there's a clear smirk in his voice as he continues, "mmh, n' now you're takin' my cock like you were made for it. takin' it so fuckin' well, look at that. . ."

his eyes drift downwards to watch the way his length disappears inside your pretty pink pussy, he exhales shakily at the sight of you sucking him in. he pulls out, almost all the way but not quite, seeing how your slick glistens on his dick in the moonlight. his eyes flutter shut as he slams back in, biting his lip as you instinctively clench around him at the harsh movement.

you cry out and it echoes into the forest, thighs tensing as his dick curves inside of you, threatening to hit that spot that makes you go fucking crazy. the sound you make spurs him on, encourages him, a low rumbling laugh escaping him as he fucks into you with renewed vigour.

"takin' it like a good girl," he praises you, rubbing his thumbs across the exposed skin on your waist as he watches your chest bounce with every slam of his cock, "but you gotta be quiet, yeah? they'll be able to hear you back at the mansion with those moans, am i makin' you feel that good?"

you can't help but nod, whimpering softly in an effort to suppress the noises he's pulling from you. logan always knew exactly how to fuck you, how to make you sing out, how to find that perfect angle as he pounds you relentlessly.

he hadn't even needed to knock on your door to invite you out that night, you were already watching him wistfully from your bedroom window as he approached the bike. logan caught your eye and smirked as he jerked his head, signalling for you to come with. and come you did.

"fuck, i'm gonna cum!" you frantically scream, gasping suddenly as you feel the pleasure coil in your gut. it's coming in slow-rising waves, each brush of his cock against your sensitive, spongy g-spot threatening to tip you over the edge.

his hand is over your mouth, muffling your moans as he picks up the pace, his other arm wraps around your thigh, helping his angle and allowing him to push deeper. the bike is really rocking now. brows twitching, he knows he's close too. he often can't help but cum from all the beautiful sounds you make when you're close, and it doesn't help - the way your pussy so desperately clenches around him. you're practically begging him to cum deep inside of you.

"shhhh," he shakes his head, grinning down at you, "that's it. . . that's it, cum for me pretty girl. cum for me nice and quiet, right here, right now, on this bike. cum for me cus' i'm askin' you to, tellin' you to."

his words do nothing to calm the rising tide within you, they spur your orgasm on further. between his filthy, dirty laced demands and his cock plunging deep into your aching walls, you feel yourself coming apart at the seams.

you're screaming beneath his palm as you feel the edge near, and before you know it you're tumbling over it with a loud moan, eyes rolling back. "fuck yes, fuck yes, fuck me - fuck me logan!" is what he'd hear if he moved his hand from your mouth, but his calloused hand stays roughly planted over your lips as you cum. loud. hard.

"oh fuck, shit-" he curses under his breath, feeling your walls flutter around him as you arch your back off the fuel tank, "cum around my cock, that's it, atta' girl."

it's almost too much, the praise, the dirty talk, the way he's making light work of you with his throbbing length. he makes you see stars every time, your eyes rolling back to see the actual stars above you both, the woods filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin as he shows no signs of slowing down.

you're struggling to keep your eyes open, feeling the orgasm wash over your whole body, a warmth spreading from your groin. it feels so good, and he can tell. he can see it in your eyes as he watches them flutter.

"you're gonna make me cum," logan pants softly into the cool night air, "gonna cum inside that pussy, you want that? hm? want me to fuckin' paint your walls with my cum? gonna be spillin' out the whole ride home."

holy fuck his words. you feel a second orgasm approaching, chasing the end of the first.

he's moaning, grunting as he pumps into you. his thick veins throb against your walls as he feels himself cum, white hot ropes spilling into your begging cunt. his mouth falls open, gasping as your pussy drinks it all up through your second orgasm, taking every last drop just like he knew you would, just as you do every time he takes you out here to fuck you.

logan catches his breath, hunched over you as he sits up, moving a hand to your waist to keep you steady as his other hand runs through his hair. hand slipping from your mouth, he lets it trail down your chest, along your tummy, to rest over your mound. his thumb spreads apart your wet folds before diving in to find your clit.

you gasp, clearly overstimulated from both orgasms. your legs twitch, your whole body shaking slightly as he plays with you. he can't help but smirk at the reaction he can illicit from you just from a few little strokes.

"sensitive," he mutters, thumb dancing across your sensitive bud, "you were such a good girl for me, i gotta train you to be quieter though." logan tilts his head, watching as you squirm beneath him, "can't keep taking you out here just to fuck you, you gotta learn to behave n' keep it down so i can fuck you at the mansion too."

whining, your hand snakes down to join his over your clit, urging him to go slower, and he does.

"though," his smirk widens, "you do look too good like this, spread out for me on this bike, messy and drippin' with my cum." eyes trailing down your body, he admires each and every inch of you. "think i'll keep fuckin' you on it even after you learn to be quiet, i'd have you anywhere. . ."

he leans down, kissing along the valley of your chest, "in my bed. . ." he continues, kissing down along your tummy, "in your bed," he sits up, "in the garden. . ." his thumb on your clit speeds up, causing you to gasp, "anywhere i can have you. i will."

you whimper and he hushes you, "you like the sound of that, princess?" logan nods, "want me to take care of you everywhere? fuck you so hard in that bed of yours where you sit and think about me?"

your cheeks flush a deep red, squirming on the cool metal of the bike. the night air nips at your heated skin.

"thought so," he grins and pulls his hand away from your clit which earns a pathetic whine from you, bringing his thumb to his mouth to lick your sweet, sticky wetness from it.

you watch him with an almost hypnotised look through hooded lids. but he grins, this wasn't over. he wasn't done with you yet.

"let's go home and test just how quiet you can be, hm?"

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captainsaveawoah · 5 months ago

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Idk. Something, something secret baby/double life except Johnny and you are together and you’re kept a secret (surprise the man is secretive about his life) from the team.

Bit of a timeline au, You date a few years, you two get married, but it’s still all a secret. Price has an idea, his will has changed, signed off on it himself but doesn’t dig too deep, knows his boys will come to him.

Gaz is the first to comment, Johnny never taking anyone home. Can hear the man most nights finishing into his hands with a groan that sounds something like a name. Johnny just laughs and tips his beer, steering the conversation away.

Ghost though. Can see it. The way Johnny, despite wanting to charge in, gun ‘em down, will take caution, the worry in his words when he’s hurt or downed, not for himself but for someone at home.

Yet, Johnny stays quiet. Doesn’t say a word, rushes back to a “cold, empty apartment” Simon can tell when he and his bird are having a rough patch (little bit of a ghoap thing because they are as gay as they come idk) can tell when Johnny and his bird are in a good place. But the man doesn’t say a damned thing.

You and Johnny have sex… a lot of sex, when he’s home of course. A young couple, so in love, so happy, so wrapped in each other it’s like you made for one another.

You get married, he builds you a house, moves you to Scotland of course. “Need our weens to speak like their papa, yeah?” Knocks you up. Gives you THE CHUBBIEST little boy with his daddies eyes. You know about the task force, know they don’t know about you. You wish they did, wish you knew them personally, they’re the only family Johnny has, but you know Johnny keeps you away for your safety.

He’s about 3 when Simon is at your door. Your eyes widen, like you think you’re dreaming before your on the ground screaming and BEGGING Simon to say it’s not true.

The big guy sticks around, Johnny had felt he wouldn’t come home on this one, told Simon about you before the mission. Asked him to look after you and his son if he doesn’t make it home for supper. Ghost shrugs him off, makes some stupid joke but watches Johnny’s body crumple to the ground as he gets shot in the head.

Johnny told him it had to be him, “Kyle’s got a bird. Captain’s got too much on his plate. Plus you seem to escape death at every turn. Need you to take care of my heart.”

Your son is quick to take to Simon. You not so much, he hangs around, eats all your food, changes his clothes all the time, crowds your space while you grieve the man who became your whole.

But there are days, when you hear Simon and think it’s Johnny. There are days when Simon holds your son and you see Johnny. There are days when Simon’s head is between your thighs you feel like it’s Johnny. You feel bad, he tells you it’s okay. And you believe him, you feel it, mourn it with each passing day, knowing that one day you’ll look up and see only Simon, Johnny will always be there, but one day it’ll just be Simon.

Idk tho.

#soap x reader #johnny mactavish #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mctavish x reader #simon riley x reader #x reader #soap cod #simon ghost riley x reader #cod x reader

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hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall · 3 months ago

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New life - worst!Logan x Reader (NSFW)

Summary: Logan tries to live his new life in solitarity with peace and quiet. However, it all changes when you move in next to him.

Pairing: worst!Logan x reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, smut, inexperienced (but not a virgin) reader, Wade Wilson. SMUT, hot shower sex, eating out for both So please do not interract if you're under 18.

AN: So I had this story sitting and waiting to be published. This is probably the most smutty thing I have ever written. But I hope you will enjoy it ;) No beta read all the mistakes are my own...

Words: 24 220 (oops)

Logan sat on the porch of the small cabin, his rough hands wrapped around a bottle of cheap beer, staring out at the thick woods that surrounded him. The world was quiet, too quiet for a man like him. It wasn’t just the silence of the woods, but the kind of silence that stretched into the very core of his existence, making him feel like a ghost—a relic in a world that had moved on without him.

He had seen it all. Hell, he’d lived it all. Fought battles that would break most men, lost more people than he cared to remember, and survived wars that had been meant to end him. Yet here he was, in this new reality, a world stitched together from the broken pieces of his past and fragments of a future that wasn’t supposed to be.

And then there was Wade.

Logan took a long drink, letting the beer burn its way down his throat. Wade Wilson—Deadpool—was a walking contradiction. The bastard was a thorn in Logan’s side, an immortal jester who seemed to mock the seriousness of life with every breath he took. Wade’s idea of fun was throwing himself headfirst into a fight just to see how many pieces he’d end up in. And somehow, by some twisted stroke of fate, Wade had followed Logan into this new world.

It wasn’t just Wade, either. Laura was here, too. His daughter, if he could call her that. X-23. She was tough, capable, and deadly. More like him than anyone else, and that’s what scared him the most.

Logan had always thought that isolation was his fate. He’d always believed he was doomed to walk the world alone, leaving destruction in his wake. But now…now he wasn’t so sure.

In this strange new place, with Wade and Laura nearby, Logan found himself struggling to make sense of it all. And the worst part? He couldn’t decide if he hated the fact that he wasn’t alone anymore—or if he secretly loved it.

---

The world they found themselves in wasn’t exactly like the one Logan had known before. There were no Sentinels hunting mutants down. There were no endless wars between mutants and humans. It was… quieter. Softer. And it made Logan feel restless, like a caged animal pacing inside a zoo enclosure too small for his needs.

This world was full of people living normal lives—people who didn’t know about the blood Logan had on his hands, the wars he had fought, or the pain that clawed at his insides every time he closed his eyes. They didn’t know who he was. And he wanted to keep it that way.

But there were still reminders of the past, flickers of the world he’d left behind. Wade, for one. The bastard had somehow adapted to this new reality like a fish to water, making sarcastic jokes about “timeline anomalies” and “multiverse etiquette” while Logan tried not to punch him in the face.

It wasn’t that Logan hated Wade. No, he knew Wade had been through his own version of hell. It was just that Wade had a way of poking at the deepest parts of Logan’s soul, the parts he didn’t want anyone messing with. Like Wade knew exactly how to find the cracks in Logan’s armor and jab at them with a grin on his face.

Yet despite that, Wade was here. And Laura. And something about that gnawed at Logan in ways he couldn’t explain.

Wade’s presence wasn’t just an annoyance. It was a reminder that Logan wasn’t alone. That even in this fractured world, there were still people around him. People who gave a damn. Wade might be a pain in the ass, but Logan couldn’t deny that the man had his back when it counted.

And Laura—she was tougher than nails, just like him. The kid had been through more than anyone her age should have to endure. In many ways, she was his mirror: fierce, stubborn, carrying the weight of violence in her bones. But where Logan was tired, worn down by the decades, Laura still had fire in her. She hadn’t lost that part of herself yet.

God, he hoped she wouldn’t.

---

Logan had spent his life running from his past. It was the one thing he was good at. He had been the lone wolf for so long, keeping people at arm’s length, pushing them away the moment they got too close. He’d lost count of how many times he had built walls around himself, thicker and higher each time. He’d perfected the art of being alone.

But this time, the past felt closer than ever.

In his quiet moments—those rare seconds when Wade wasn’t around, spouting off ridiculous commentary about “crossing universes” or “rebooting franchises”—Logan found his mind drifting back to the things he couldn’t forget. The people. The places. The blood.

The world around him might have changed, but his memories hadn’t.

He remembered the sound of Charles’ voice, the way the professor’s mind had felt inside his own, guiding him when everything else was chaos. He remembered Jean, her face twisted with power and pain, and how he had been the one to end it. To end her. He remembered the wars, the endless wars, and the way they had ripped him apart inside, piece by piece.

Logan’s hands clenched around the neck of the bottle, his knuckles turning white. It wasn’t fair. The memories weren’t fair. They were all ghosts now, haunting him in the quiet of this new world. He had outlived them all, and sometimes he wondered if that was the worst part—being the last one standing.

Laura was the only one who could understand, even if she didn’t say it out loud. She had the same memories, the same scars. They were alike in that way, bound together by the violence of their creation.

Yet she still looked at the world with a glimmer of hope.

Logan envied her for that.

---

What tore at him the most—what kept Logan up at night, staring at the ceiling, his chest heavy with the weight of it—was the gnawing feeling that maybe he didn’t want to be alone. Not anymore.

For years, Logan had convinced himself that solitude was his destiny. That he was too dangerous, too broken to be close to anyone. He had lost too much, and losing again wasn’t something he could handle. It was easier to keep the world at a distance. To fight alone. To bleed alone.

But now, sitting here in the middle of nowhere with Wade making bad jokes and Laura not too far away, Logan found himself facing a truth he didn’t know how to accept.

He cared about them.

He’d never say it out loud, of course. That wasn’t his style. But it was there, gnawing at the back of his mind every time Wade dragged him into some ridiculous situation or Laura reminded him, with a single sharp look, that she was capable of handling herself.

In some messed-up way, these people had become his pack. His family.

Logan didn’t do family. Not after all the ones he had lost. But now, against all odds, there was Wade with his incessant humor, and Laura with her silent strength. And, whether he liked it or not, Logan found himself caring.

Maybe too much.

That was the real problem, wasn’t it? He couldn’t afford to care. He had spent his whole life losing the people he loved, and he didn’t want to go through that again. But this world—this strange new reality—was forcing him to face a future he hadn’t expected. A future where he wasn’t alone.

And it scared the hell out of him.

---

Logan felt the beast stirring inside him every day. The anger, the rage—it was always there, lurking just beneath the surface, waiting for an excuse to tear its way out. In the old world, there had always been something to fight. Someone to kill. That’s what kept him going: the battles, the endless battles.

But here?

Here, in this quiet world, the beast had no outlet. There were no enemies to hunt, no wars to fight. And that scared him more than anything, because without the violence to drown in, Logan was left with the one thing he had spent his entire life avoiding: himself.

He didn’t know how to live without the fight. Didn’t know how to be the man people wanted him to be in this strange new life.

And yet, for the first time in years, Logan could feel something else stirring inside him. Something softer. It was a terrifying feeling—one that made him feel exposed and vulnerable in a way no battle ever had. It was the feeling of wanting something more.

Of wanting someone to come home to.

Logan shook his head, trying to shake the thought loose. He was too old for this. Too worn out, too broken. There was no place in his life for softness. No place for—

A voice cut through the silence. “Hey, old man, you brooding again? Don’t worry, I brought beer! And chimichangas!”

Wade.

Logan growled low in his throat, but deep down, a part of him—the part he refused to acknowledge—was relieved.

---

As the sun set over the trees, casting long shadows across the ground, Logan leaned back in his chair, listening to Wade’s footsteps approaching. In another life, in another world, this would’ve been the kind of thing that set him on edge.

***

Logan could hear you long before he saw you.

It was a sunny afternoon—too damn sunny for his taste—when the sound of boxes being shuffled, a car door slamming, and a string of cheerful humming broke the usual quiet of his secluded little corner of the world. Logan’s brows furrowed as he sat on his porch, a cigar clamped between his teeth. He could feel the change, the shift in his surroundings, like the arrival of an unwanted storm.

He wasn’t expecting anyone new to move in. He didn’t need neighbors. Hell, he barely tolerated the company of Wade, and that bastard was like a cockroach, impossible to get rid of. But the sounds continued, grating on his nerves.

Logan tried to ignore it. He took a deep drag from his cigar, letting the smoke curl around him like a protective shield. He wasn’t in the mood for people. Never was.

But then he heard it—the unmistakable sound of footsteps crunching on the gravel driveway leading up to his cabin.

“Hey there!” a bright voice called out, too damn chipper for the likes of him.

Logan squinted into the sunlight, his gaze landing on the source of the intrusion.

A woman— with a wide smile and way too much energy—was making her way toward him, waving as if they were old friends. She had a box tucked under one arm, and her other hand flailed in his direction like she hadn’t quite mastered the art of walking and greeting someone at the same time.

Logan’s first thought was to retreat, to grumble some excuse and disappear into his cabin, lock the door, and hope she’d get the hint.

But then she was there, standing at the edge of his porch, her eyes bright with curiosity and excitement. Logan could practically feel her energy radiating off her, and it made his skin itch.

“Hi! Nice to meet ya,” you said, holding out a hand as if you two were meeting at some friendly town gathering. “I just moved in next door! Well, not exactly next door, but you know, close enough. Over there.” You pointed vaguely in the direction of the small house a few yards down the gravel road, the one that had been vacant for months. “I thought I’d come by and introduce myself!”

Logan stared at you, his mouth clamped shut around the cigar, saying nothing. He didn’t want to shake your hand. Hell, he didn’t even want to look at you, but there you were—bright, bubbly, and apparently oblivious to the fact that he wasn’t the neighborly type.

Your hand hovered in the air for a moment longer before you dropped it, unfazed by his lack of response. You were smiling at him like you had all the time in the world, eyes sparkling with some kind of optimism that made Logan’s stomach twist.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” you said, cocking your head to the side, studying him like he was some kind of puzzle you were eager to figure out.

Logan grunted, the only sound he could manage. He wasn’t about to engage in small talk with some stranger, let alone one as annoyingly cheerful as this one.

You didn’t seem bothered by his silence. In fact, you didn’t seem bothered by anything. You just kept talking, as if his gruff demeanor was nothing more than a speed bump on the road of your conversation.

“I’m opening a coffee shop!” you announced, her face lighting up even more, which Logan hadn’t thought was possible. “Right down the street, actually. It’s called Beans of Heaven—cute, right? I thought it was clever. It’s gonna be small, but cozy. You should stop by sometime. I make the best coffee. Seriously, the *best*. You’re not one of those ‘don’t talk to me until I’ve had my coffee’ types, are you? ’Cause I can fix that. I’ve got all sorts of flavors, too. But if you’re more of a black coffee, no sugar, no fuss kind of guy, I can do that, too.”

You paused just long enough to take a breath, and Logan couldn’t help but feel a little bit of admiration for the fact that you hadn’t passed out from lack of oxygen. Damn, you could talk.

“I bet you’re a black coffee type,” you said, giving him a wink like you’d just solved some great mystery. “Strong, no nonsense. That’s you, right?”

Logan grunted again, this time out of sheer disbelief. Were you for real?

You smiled wider—how, he didn’t know—and clapped your hands together. “I knew it! Okay, well, I just wanted to say hi and let you know that I’m around. If you ever need anything, just holler! Or, you know, come by the shop. First cup’s on the house!”

Before Logan could tell you to leave, you waved one last time and turned on your heel, bouncing back toward the car like the world was made of sunshine and rainbows.

Logan stared after you, feeling a mix of irritation and confusion swirling in his gut. You were too much. Too loud. Too… happy. A part of him wanted to destroy that happiness, to crush it beneath the weight of his own darkness, just to see how long your smile would last.

But another part of him—the part that still hadn’t learned to let go of the things he’d lost—wanted to hold on to it. To be a part of it. Maybe even protect it.

He crushed those thoughts as soon as they appeared. That wasn’t him. Not anymore.

No, the loudest part of him wanted to stay far away from you and that relentless energy. He didn’t need that kind of brightness in his life. He’d learned long ago that everything bright eventually dimmed. And Logan was no good at keeping things alive.

---

It didn’t take long for you to open the shop.

Within a week, there was a new sign on the old building just down the road, a colorful thing that read Bean of Heaven in bold, cheerful letters. The place had been empty for as long as Logan could remember, just another relic of a town that was slowly dying. But you had breathed life into it, just like you had with everything else you touched.

Logan had no intention of visiting. He wasn’t about to walk into a place where he’d have to sit and listen to your nonstop chatter. But fate, or maybe just bad luck, had other plans.

He ran out of beer.

There were no bars nearby, and the nearest liquor store was a half-hour drive. He’d been sitting on his porch, staring at the empty bottle in his hand, when the smell hit him—rich, dark, the unmistakable aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafting down the street from your shop. His stomach growled, and despite himself, Logan found his feet moving toward the source.

The bell above the door jingled as he stepped inside, and there you were—standing behind the counter, pouring coffee with the same level of enthusiasm most people reserved for winning the lottery. Your head snapped up when you saw him, and your face lit up with that damn smile again.

“Neighbour! You made it!” you said, like you’d been expecting him all along. “I knew you’d come by eventually.”

Logan grunted, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket. He didn’t respond, just made his way to the counter, eyes scanning the shop. It was cozy, like you’d said—lots of wooden tables, warm lighting, and shelves lined with plants and knickknacks. It didn’t feel like a place that belonged in his world.

You handed him a cup, black coffee, no sugar, no cream—just how he liked it. He took a sip, the warmth flooding through him, and he couldn’t help but let out a small sound of approval.

It was the best damn coffee he’d ever had.

“You like it, huh?” You asked, eyes twinkling with pride. “Told you I make the best coffee. You’re gonna be hooked, I promise.”

Logan didn’t answer, just took another sip, letting the coffee do the talking for him.

You leaned on the counter, your head resting in your hands, watching him like he was the most interesting thing in the world. “So,” you said, breaking the silence, “you’re kind of a mystery, aren’t you?”

Logan’s jaw tightened. He didn’t like being a mystery to anyone. Especially not someone like you, who seemed intent on figuring him out.

“I bet you’ve got all sorts of stories,” you continued, undeterred by his silence. “I mean, you’ve got that whole ‘lone wolf’ vibe going on. You know, the brooding guy with the mysterious past? People eat that stuff up.”

Logan grunted, trying to ignore you, but you didn’t seem to get the hint. You just kept talking, words bouncing around the shop like they had a life of their own.

“You ever think about opening up? I mean, I’m sure you’ve been through a lot. Everyone’s got their demons, right? And I get it, you don’t want to talk about it. That’s fine. But, you know, sometimes it helps to have someone to talk to. Not that I’m saying you need to talk to me or anything, but—”

Logan shot you a look, one that usually shut people up pretty fast. But you? You just smiled, like he hadn’t even glared at you.

“You’re not much for conversation, huh?”

***

The first few weeks after Logan’s initial trip to Beans of Heaven passed in a haze of routine. Every morning, like clockwork, he’d walk down the road to the small coffee shop. The sun was always just barely creeping over the horizon, and the air was still crisp with the night’s lingering chill. The smell of freshly brewed coffee would hit him the moment he opened the door, mingling with the scent of cinnamon rolls and other pastries you had undoubtedly baked before dawn.

You, for your part, had made a habit of greeting him the same way every day, with a wide smile that seemed to stretch across your entire face. “Logan! Black coffee, no frills, coming right up!”

At first, he just grunted in response, as usual. But there was something about you—something relentless, something he couldn’t quite figure out. Most people would’ve taken the hint after a few days of silence from him, maybe decided to stop talking altogether. But not you. No, you kept at it, talking about everything and nothing, filling the air with words while Logan sat at his usual table in the back corner, sipping his coffee.

He didn’t respond. Not really. But there was a part of him that started to look forward to it, the way your voice would fill the shop, the way you laughed at your own jokes. It was ridiculous, how much energy you had. And even more ridiculous how much it didn’t annoy him as much as it should’ve.

---

It happened one day, without him even meaning to.

Logan had been sitting at his usual spot, staring out the window, watching the way the morning light filtered through the trees. You were behind the counter, humming some cheerful tune while you wiped down the espresso machine. You hadn’t started talking to him yet that morning—maybe you’d finally realized he wasn’t much for conversation.

But then, out of nowhere, you blurted out, “You ever play hockey, Logan?”

His eyes flicked up to you, and for a split second, he almost ignored the question, like he always did. But something inside him cracked, maybe because it was such a random thing to ask, or maybe because he hadn’t been asked about hockey in a long time.

“Yeah,” he muttered, his voice rough like gravel. “A long time ago.”

Your eyes widened, and for a moment, you looked like you weren't sure if you’d imagined his response or not. But then, just as quickly, you beamed at him. “I knew it! You’ve got that ‘gritty, fight-anyone-who-looks-at-you-wrong’ vibe. Bet you were one of those enforcers, huh? Knocking people’s teeth out?”

Logan snorted, a sound that surprised even him. He hadn’t meant to make it, but there it was. “Something like that.”

You practically bounced on your heels, grinning like you’d just unlocked some great mystery. “That’s awesome! You’ll have to teach me some moves one day. I mean, I’m not a hockey player, but I do love watching the games. Fast-paced, brutal—right up your alley, I bet.”

Logan didn’t respond, but something about the way you said it—about how easily you talked to him, how you didn’t flinch at his gruffness—made him feel… different. Not in a bad way, but in a way that was unfamiliar.

It felt comfortable. And that was terrifying.

---

After that day, something shifted between you two. It wasn’t drastic, but it was there—a slow, almost imperceptible change. Logan found himself responding more often, if only with a few words here and there. You, in turn, seemed to take his gruff replies as victories, your laughter growing warmer every time he said something back.

You still talked a lot. About your shop, about the town, about random things you found amusing. Logan didn’t mind, though. Your voice became part of the background, something that made the shop feel… alive.

And then, one Sunday, you hit him with the invitation that he hadn’t seen coming.

“Hey, Logan?” you called from behind the counter as you wiped down the tables after the last customer of the day had left.

He looked up from his coffee, raising an eyebrow in question.

“So, I was thinking… I’ve got this Sunday dinner tradition, and I usually eat alone, which is fine, but it’d be way more fun if you joined me,” you said, words spilling out in that usual rapid-fire way you had. “I’m making lasagna—well, trying to, anyway. It’s kind of a work in progress, but it’s edible, I promise.”

Logan stared at you for a moment, trying to figure out if you were serious. Dinner? With him? It was the kind of thing people did when they were friends, or at least something close to it.

He wasn’t sure he was ready for that. But the look on your face—hopeful, yet casual, like you weren't pressuring him—made it hard to say no. You weren't asking much. Just dinner.

“I don’t do lasagna,” he said gruffly, setting his mug down.

You blinked, clearly not expecting that response. “Oh… okay. Well, what do you do? I can make something else—anything you like.”

He sighed, knowing he was walking right into the trap. “Steak. Rare.”

Your face lit up like Christmas had come early. “Steak it is! Sunday, six o’clock. Don’t be late!”

And just like that, Logan found himself sitting at your table a few days later, cutting into a steak that was cooked almost perfectly, and listening to you ramble on about some small-town drama that he didn’t care about in the slightest. But he listened anyway, because for the first time in longer than he could remember, he didn’t mind the noise.

It was… nice. And that unsettled him more than anything.

---

Sunday dinners became a thing. He didn’t know how it happened, or when it happened, but suddenly, every Sunday at six, Logan found himself sitting at your table, eating whatever meal you’d decided to cook that week.

In return, he invited you over one evening to watch a hockey game. He wasn’t much of a TV guy, but the game was on, and he figured if you liked hockey as much as you said you did, it wouldn’t hurt to have someone else to sit in silence with while the action played out on the screen.

But, of course, silence wasn’t part of the deal with you.

“Oh my God, that hit was brutal!” you exclaimed, clutching the edge of the couch as one of the players was slammed into the boards. “Is it bad that I kind of love that part?”

Logan chuckled, a sound he was still getting used to making around you. “That’s the best part.”

They watched the rest of the game, and by the end of it, you were nearly bouncing off the couch with excitement, throwing out commentary as if you were one of the analysts. Logan didn’t mind. It reminded him of the old days, of sitting in dingy bars with teammates, knocking back beers after a hard fight. It felt good. Comfortable.

Too comfortable.

---

That comfort was the problem. The more time Logan spent with you, the more he found himself settling into a routine—a dangerous routine. Sunday dinners. Hockey nights. Coffee in the mornings, with your cheerful voice filling the air as you teased him about his gruffness.

He could feel himself relaxing around you, letting his guard down in ways he hadn’t done in years. And that scared the hell out of him.

Logan had learned long ago that comfort didn’t last. It couldn’t. People left. People died. He was a walking reminder of that. The more comfortable he got, the harder it would be when it all inevitably fell apart. And it would fall apart. It always did.

So he started to pull away.

It wasn’t drastic at first. Just little things. He stopped responding as much when you talked to him. He’d grunt instead of offering actual words. He’d sit in the shop for shorter amounts of time, finishing his coffee faster so he didn’t have to linger in your presence.

You noticed, of course. You weren’t oblivious.

“You okay?” you asked one morning, your usual smile faltering just a little as you set his coffee down in front of him.

Logan didn’t meet your gaze. “Yeah. Fine.”

But he wasn’t fine, and you both knew it.

The following week, he didn’t show up for Sunday dinner. He didn’t even call to cancel—he didn’t have your number anyway. He figured you’d get the message. You didn’t need him complicating your life. You didn’t need his baggage, his darkness.

And he sure as hell didn’t need to get attached to someone who would eventually leave, one way or another.

Days passed, and Logan avoided the coffee shop altogether. He holed up in his cabin, kept to himself, buried his feelings under layers of gruff silence. He told himself it was for the best. He was saving both of them from whatever disaster was waiting down the road.

But the silence that followed his absence was unbearable.

---

You had always been good at reading people, even if they didn’t want to be read. And Logan? He was the kind of guy who had ‘walls’ written all over him, the kind of guy who didn’t let people in easily

***

Logan sat in his small living room, the faint crackle of the fireplace the only sound in the cabin. He had a beer in his hand and an ever-present scowl on his face. The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting the room in shadows, but he didn’t bother to turn on any lights. There was no point. Darkness suited him just fine.

His phone buzzed on the coffee table, and Logan grunted, already knowing who it was without checking. Wade had been pestering him all week, leaving voice messages filled with his usual barrage of nonsense, bad jokes, and bizarre references. Most days, Logan ignored him. But tonight, for reasons he couldn’t quite figure out, he picked up.

“What do you want, Wade?” Logan grumbled as he hit the video call button.

The screen flickered to life, and there was Wade Wilson—Deadpool—grinning like an idiot, wearing what looked like a unicorn onesie, complete with a rainbow mane on the hood.

“Logan!” Wade exclaimed, way too loudly. “My favorite grumpy Canadian! How’s life in the great wide wilderness? Have you finally turned into a lumberjack or are you just planning on brooding yourself into oblivion?”

Logan rolled his eyes, already regretting answering. “What the hell do you want, Wade?”

“What do I want?” Wade gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “What do I want? Just to check in on my best buddy, that’s all! It’s been ages. I’m just making sure you haven’t gotten yourself eaten by a bear or, you know, spontaneously combusted from sheer grumpiness.”

“I’m fine,” Logan said flatly, taking a long pull from his beer.

Wade squinted at him through the screen. “You sure about that, pal? You look like you’ve been chewing on nails and spitting out iron filings. You’re not even gonna give me a smile? Not even a little one?”

Logan grunted. “Don’t push it.”

Wade wiggled his eyebrows. “So, how’s the new reality treating you? You’re all settled in, yeah? Got your cabin, got your woods, got your mysterious brooding vibe going strong. You must be in paradise.”

Logan leaned back in his chair, trying to get comfortable, but Wade’s incessant cheer made it impossible. “It’s fine. Quiet. Just how I like it.”

“Oh sure, I bet,” Wade said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m sure you’re just living the dream out there, all by yourself, surrounded by nothing but trees and loneliness. Except…wait a minute…” He leaned in close to the camera, his eyes narrowing. “What about that neighbor you mentioned once or twice? What was her name?”

Logan answered before he could stop himself.

Wade’s face lit up with a devilish grin. “Ah! That’s the one! Sooo… how’s she doing? Is she still making you that delicious, life-changing coffee?”

Logan’s jaw tightened. He didn’t want to have this conversation. Not with Wade. Not with anyone.

“It’s nothing,” Logan muttered, his voice low. “She’s just… a neighbor.”

Wade leaned back, folding his arms over his chest, clearly enjoying this more than he should. “Just the neighbor, huh? You sure about that? ‘Cause from what I’ve gathered, you’ve been spending a lot of time over at that little coffee shop of hers. And I don’t think it’s just because she makes a killer latte.”

Logan’s grip on the beer bottle tightened. “I go there for the coffee. That’s it.”

“Uh-huh,” Wade said, nodding slowly, his eyes wide with fake innocence. “So, no other reason, huh? Not even a teensy, tiny bit of interest in just her? You’re not, I dunno, secretly enjoying her bubbly personality? Maybe even starting to like the fact that she talks your ear off every morning?”

Logan growled, a low rumble that vibrated through his chest. “I told you, Wade. She’s nothing special. Just an annoying, overly cheerful neighbor who won’t leave me alone.”

Wade’s grin faltered for a second, but Logan didn’t notice. He was too caught up in his own frustration, the words spilling out faster than he could stop them.

“She talks too much. Laughs too damn much. Always smiling, always trying to drag me into these pointless conversations,” Logan snapped, his voice rising. “And she’s always… happy. Like, ridiculously happy. It’s like she’s never had a bad day in her life, and it’s just… it’s too much. I don’t need that. I don’t want that.”

Wade held up a hand, trying to interject, but Logan kept going, his anger building with each word.

“She’s not even a friend. Just this… annoying bother who stumbled into my life and won’t let go. She doesn’t get it—she doesn’t get me. She’s… she’s a distraction. A useless, loud, irritating distraction.”

“Logan—” Wade tried to say, his voice quieter now, but Logan didn’t hear him.

“And what’s worse is, no matter how much I try to push her away, she just keeps coming back. With her damn coffee and her stupid smile and her endless chatter. I don’t need that kind of noise in my life. I don’t need her. I don’t need anyone.”

“Logan—” Wade said again, this time more urgently, his eyes flicking to something off-screen. But Logan wasn’t paying attention.

“I just want to be left alone, Wade. That’s it. Alone.”

There was a beat of silence. The fire crackled in the background, and Logan took a deep breath, his anger slowly ebbing as he realized how much he’d said. He hadn’t meant to go off like that, but once he’d started, the floodgates had opened.

Wade cleared his throat. “Uh… Logan, buddy. You might wanna turn around.”

Logan’s brow furrowed. “What?”

Wade pointed over Logan’s shoulder, a tight, uncomfortable smile on his face. “Turn. Around.”

Logan’s body went rigid. Slowly, he turned in his chair, the weight of Wade’s words sinking into his chest. His heart pounded as his gaze landed on the porch.

And there, standing in the fading light, was you.

You were holding a tray with two cups of coffee and a box—probably filled with some homemade baked goods, knowing you. Your face was pale, eyes wide with shock and hurt. You looked frozen in place, as if you couldn’t quite believe what you’d just heard.

Logan’s mouth went dry, a sinking feeling settling deep in his gut.

You blinked, smile weak, forced, like you were trying to hold it together. “I, uh… I’m sorry,” you said, your voice so soft it barely reached him. “I didn’t mean to… overhear. I just… I brought you some coffee and… and a little something to eat.”

Logan opened his mouth to say something, to explain, but no words came. He was trapped, frozen by the weight of his own mistakes, of everything he’d just said.

Your eyes flicked to the ground, and you set the tray down on the porch railing, hands shaking just slightly. “I’ll… I’ll just go.”

You didn’t wait for him to respond. You didn’t say anything else. You just turned and walked away, the sound of footsteps fading as you disappeared down the gravel road toward your house.

Logan stood there, staring at the tray you’d left behind, a hollow ache spreading through his chest. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to do.

He’d hurt you. The one thing he’d tried so hard not to do, and he’d done it anyway.

Behind him, Wade’s voice broke the heavy silence. “Well, Logan, you really stepped in it this time.”

Logan didn’t respond. He just stood there, his fists clenched at his sides, watching the spot where you had been moments before, his mind racing with all the things he wished he could take back.

But it was too late.

You were gone.

***

You could still remember the day you first saw him—the man who seemed to be carved out of stone, with a permanent scowl etched on his face and eyes that carried the weight of the world. He’d been sitting on the porch of his small, weather-beaten cabin, a cigar clamped between his teeth, exuding an aura of "stay the hell away." And yet, there was something about him that drew you in. Maybe it was because, despite that gruff exterior, you sensed something familiar. Something like loneliness.

You had just moved into your new home, a quaint little place down the road. It wasn’t much, but it was yours. After years of drifting from place to place, trying to find somewhere that felt like home, You had finally found this sleepy little town. It had charm, history, and enough distance from your past to feel like a fresh start.

Your coffee shop, Beans of Heaven, had been a dream for years, and now it was finally real. You poured your heart into the place—every morning waking up early to bake pastries, grind fresh coffee beans, and create an atmosphere that felt warm and welcoming. But something was missing. Maybe someone was missing.

Then there was Logan, your grumpy, brooding neighbor who never smiled and hardly ever spoke. He intrigued you in ways you couldn’t explain, but more than that, he reminded you of something you had been missing for a long time: companionship. And though you knew he was the type of man who would rather chew glass than have a heartfelt conversation, you wanted to get to know him. You wanted to be his friend.

---

The first time you approached Logan, you were filled with usual optimism. You had introduced yourself with a wide smile, carrying a box of fresh pastries and two cups of coffee—hoping that a bit of kindness might crack through his tough exterior. His reaction, or lack thereof, had been exactly what you’d expected: a grunt, a nod, and nothing more.

Most people would’ve given up after that first encounter. You weren’t most people.

You didn’t let Logan’s cold demeanor deter you. Day after day, you greeted him at the shop with the same enthusiasm, offering him a free coffee or some fresh-baked cookies. He never accepted anything beyond his usual black coffee, and most of the time he’d just sit in silence, staring out the window. But still, he came back, and that was enough to encourage you.

You had always been the “bubbly” one. The girl with too much energy, too much cheer. It was part of who you were, and you liked to believe that this positivity could rub off on others. But in reality, making friends has never been easy for you. People would be drawn to the warmth and laughter at first, but eventually, they’d drift away. Your constant need for connection, endless talking, enthusiasm—it all became too much for them.

You’d had friends in the past—plenty of them, in fact—but they never stayed for long. They would start to roll their eyes when you laughed too hard or sigh when you talked too much. Slowly, subtly, they’d pull away, leaving you feeling like you were always too much. Too much of a handful. Too much energy. Too much emotion.

So when Logan accepted your invitation to Sunday dinner for the first time, you had been over the moon. He had seemed so closed off, so unreachable, that you hadn’t expected him to agree. And yet, there he was, sitting at your table, cutting into a steak and grumbling his way through dinner. He wasn’t exactly the picture of warmth, but just having him there, sharing a meal with you, felt like a small victory.

Then came the hockey night. Logan had invited you over, and for once, it wasn’t you doing all the pushing. You’d sit on his couch, cheering on the players, feeling more alive than you had in a long time. For a while, everything felt… comfortable.

It was strange to feel so at ease around someone like Logan, but that was the thing—despite his grumpiness, despite his silence—he made you feel safe. You didn’t feel the need to tone yourself down or apologize for being “too much.” With Logan, you could be herself, and that feeling was rare.

---

As the weeks went by, you found herself growing closer to Logan, though “closer” in Logan’s world didn’t mean much. He still grumbled more than he spoke, and he rarely shared anything personal. But the fact that he kept showing up—whether it was for coffee in the mornings, or Sunday dinners at your place—meant more to you than you could ever express.

And somewhere along the way, your feelings started to change.

It wasn’t just friendship you were after anymore. No, it had become something much deeper than that.

You were falling for Logan. Fast and hard.

You hadn’t meant to. It wasn’t like you had planned on it. But there was something about him—something in the way he was so guarded, so rough around the edges, yet kind in the smallest of ways—that made your heart ache. You had seen glimpses of who he really was beneath that tough exterior, and those glimpses made you want to know more. Made you want him.

It was the little things that got to you. Like the way he’d sit quietly and actually listen to you, even when you rambled on about random things. Or how he’d sometimes mutter a sarcastic comment that made you laugh, even when you knew he was trying to sound annoyed. There was a softness to him, buried deep down, and you wanted to uncover it. You wanted to make him smile.

But Logan was a hard man to read, and just when you thought they were becoming friends, just when you thought there might be something more between them, he started pulling away.

---

It wasn’t drastic at first. Just small changes. Logan became quieter, more distant. He stopped responding as much when you talked, going back to his old ways of grunting and nodding instead of giving those rare, short responses you had come to appreciate.

Then, he started spending less time at the coffee shop. He’d come in, get his coffee, and leave without saying much. The conversations you both used to have, no matter how one-sided, seemed to dwindle, replaced by a heavy silence that you didn’t know how to break.

It hurt. You didn’t want to admit it, but it did. After all the time they’d spent together, after all the dinners and the quiet moments, you had started to believe that maybe—just maybe—Logan felt the same way about you as you did about him.

But his distance told you otherwise.

You had never been good at confrontation. You hated the idea of pushing someone into talking about something they didn’t want to. But with Logan, it was different. You didn’t want to lose whatever connection you had. You didn’t want to be just another person who drifted away from him.

So, one evening, you made up your mind. You were going to talk to him. Maybe even… ask him out. You had never been this nervous before, not with anyone else. But Logan was different. He mattered.

You baked his favorite dessert—black olive brownies, not too sweet, just like he liked them. It was something he had mentioned in passing once, a rare glimpse into the things he enjoyed. You had never heard of anyone liking such a strange combination, but you had found a recipe and made it work. You wanted it to be perfect.

Logan had given you a key to his cabin a while ago—“Just in case,” he had said, gruffly, one day after dinner. He’d made it sound like no big deal, but to you, it had meant everything. He trusted you, at least in some small way.

---

That evening, you decided you’d surprise him. Show up with the brownies and some coffee, and just… talk. Maybe you’d tell him how you felt. Maybe you wouldn’t. But at the very least, you wanted to clear the air between you two. You didn’t want to lose him.

You walked up the gravel path to his cabin, your heart pounding in your chest, the tray of brownies carefully balanced in your hands. You were nervous—more nervous than you’d ever been—but you told yourself that everything would be fine. Logan wasn’t the type of man who would just shut you out completely. He wouldn’t hurt you. Not intentionally.

But as you reached the porch, you heard voices.

Logan’s voice, deep and rough, coming from inside the cabin. And someone else—someone familiar.

You paused just before you reached the door, your hand halfway to the knob. It was Wade’s voice. You smiled to herself, remembering the way Logan would grumble about Wade’s constant calls and visits. He’d only ever mentioned Wade a few times, but you could tell the two of them had a complicated friendship.

You didn’t mean to eavesdrop. You didn’t want to. But something in Logan’s tone stopped you in her tracks.

“…she’s just an annoying, overly cheerful neighbor who won’t leave me alone.”

You froze.

Your heart clenched in your chest as the words sunk in, cutting through you like a knife. You told yourself you must have misheard, that maybe Logan was talking about someone else, but then he continued.

“She’s not even a friend. Just this… annoying bother who stumbled into my life and won’t let go. She doesn’t get it—she doesn’t get me. She’s a distraction. A useless, loud, irritating distraction.”

You felt your hands start to shake, the tray of brownies wobbling in your grasp. You could hear Wade trying to interrupt him, trying to stop him, but Logan’s voice kept going, his words growing harsher, more defensive.

“I just want to be left alone, Wade. That’s it. Alone.”

The world seemed to tilt on its axis as you stood there, frozen on the porch. Your mind raced, your heart pounding so loud you could barely hear anything else. You had come here to talk to him, to open yourself up in a way you hadn’t done in years. You had thought—no, had hoped—that maybe Logan cared about you, even in his gruff, distant way.

But now, standing there, hearing him tear you apart with his words, you realized how wrong you had been.

You had always been too much for people. Too much energy. Too much positivity. Too much… everything. And now, once again, you have pushed someone away without even realizing it.

Your stupid, foolish heart had fallen for someone who didn’t want you. Who didn’t even see you as a friend. You had been a distraction to him—nothing more than a nuisance he had tolerated out of some sense of politeness.

Tears stung your eyes, but you blinked them away. You wouldn’t cry. Not here. Not now.

You set the tray of brownies down on the porch railing, Your hands trembling as you adjusted the coffee cups next to them. You stood there for a moment, staring at the door at Logan, when he turned around.

Taking a deep breath, you forced a weak smile onto your face. It was a habit. Something you did when you needed to hold yourself together.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, to Logan. “I didn’t mean to… bother you.”

With that, you turned and walked away, your heart breaking with every step.

---

You had always been the type of person who saw the best in people. You believed in second chances, in redemption, in the idea that everyone deserves kindness. But now, as you walked back to your little house down the road, you felt that familiar ache settling deep in your chest—the one you had felt too many times before.

You had been too much for Logan. Just like you had been too much for everyone else in your life. Friends, acquaintances, even your family—they had all grown tired of you eventually. Of your laughter, energy, the need to connect with people. You had tried so hard to fit in, to make yourself smaller, to be less of a burden. But it never worked.

And now, Logan—the one person you had thought might be different—had proven you wrong.

You were destined to be alone. To always be too much for people to handle.

Logan had made it clear how he felt.

He wanted to be alone, and you would respect that. You wouldn’t bother him anymore. You wouldn’t force your way into his life, trying to make him laugh or smile or feel anything at all. You would leave him alone, just like he wanted.

And maybe, just maybe, you’d learn to live with that.

***

Logan hadn’t planned on hurting you. Hell, he hadn’t planned on any of it. He’d only been trying to keep you at arm’s length—just like he did with everyone else. It wasn’t like he was good with people. He’d learned that a long time ago, that anyone who got close to him ended up hurt one way or another. He was a mess of scars and guilt, haunted by too many lifetimes of pain. He was trying to save you from that.

But now, sitting alone in his cabin, the familiar quiet pressing in on him from all sides, Logan realized just how wrong he’d been. The stillness, the silence—it wasn’t the peace he’d been craving. It was suffocating.

He had driven you away.

It had been days since you’d heard him call you “an annoying, overly cheerful neighbor who wouldn’t leave him alone.” Days since you’d heard him say you weren’t even a friend, that you were just a distraction, a bother. Days since he’d noticed the way your smile had faltered, the way your shoulders had slumped ever so slightly before you quietly left, your tray of coffee and brownies left behind like a sad reminder of what he’d done.

At first, Logan had convinced himself it was for the best. You’d get over it, move on with your life, and he’d go back to the way things were before you’d stumbled into his world. Before you’d made him laugh—actually laugh—or shared your endless supply of kindness, even when he’d done nothing to deserve it.

But that wasn’t how it went.

You didn’t bounce back like you usually did. You didn’t come by the cabin the next day, or the day after that. And the longer the days stretched without you, the heavier Logan’s chest felt. The realization hit him slowly but forcefully: he didn’t want to go back to how things were before.

He missed you.

***

Logan hadn’t stepped foot in your shop since that night, but after nearly a week of dodging the place, he finally couldn’t stand it anymore. So he went. The bell above the door jingled as he walked in, and the familiar scent of fresh coffee and pastries filled the air. But something was off. Something that made Logan’s gut twist uncomfortably.

You were there behind the counter, as usual, but you weren’t the same. Gone was the lively energy that always filled the shop, replaced by a quietness that felt entirely wrong in this place. You weren’t laughing with customers or talking their ears off about the latest coffee blend you were experimenting with. You were polite, efficient, but that was it. Nothing more.

And when you saw him, your expression didn’t change. No smile, no warmth. Just a quiet nod as you took his order like he was any other customer.

It stung more than Logan cared to admit.

He approached the counter, trying to find the words—words he wasn’t good at, words that felt heavy and awkward in his mouth. “Look, I… I’m sorry,” he grumbled, his voice low, rough, as if the words themselves were foreign to him.

You looked up at him, your eyes soft but distant, and gave him a small, tight smile. “There’s no need to apologize, Logan. Really. It’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine. It was anything but fine, and he could see it in the way you held yourself. You were still kind, still polite, but there was a distance there now, a wall that hadn’t been there before. It was like you had taken all that warmth you used to shower him with and locked it away, offering him only the bare minimum.

“You don’t need to act like… like nothing happened,” Logan muttered, his frustration bubbling up despite himself. He didn’t know how to fix this, but he hated the way you were looking at him like he was just another face in the crowd.

But you shook your head, that same small, strained smile on your face. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I understand.”

You turned to grab his coffee, but Logan could see the slight tremble in your hands. You were hurt, even if you weren’t saying it outright. And you were trying so damn hard to pretend like it didn’t matter, like his words hadn’t struck you right in the heart.

When you handed him the coffee, your eyes briefly flickered with something—something like sadness—but then it was gone, replaced with that same forced politeness.

“Thanks,” he muttered, taking the cup. He lingered for a moment, hoping you’d say something more, but you didn’t. You just moved on to the next customer, your back turned to him like he wasn’t even there.

Logan left the shop feeling worse than he had when he walked in.

The next few days were no better. Logan started coming back to the coffee shop more regularly, hoping to find a way to fix things, but every time, you treated him the same. Like any other customer. No more easy conversation, no more warmth in your voice, no more lingering smiles.

You were kind, but you were distant. Every interaction felt like a transaction—polite, professional, but cold. And the worst part? Logan could see how much it hurt you to act that way. He could see the moments where you started to talk to him like you used to, where your eyes lit up for a split second like you wanted to tell him about something funny that happened or share one of your stories. But then you’d catch yourself, and the light would die, replaced by that same tired, distant smile.

You were holding yourself back, and Logan knew it was because of him.

He wasn’t the only one who noticed the change in you. Some of your regulars—people who had known you long before Logan ever showed up—started asking if everything was okay. You just brushed them off with a laugh, saying you were tired or had been busy lately, but Logan knew better.

It was his words that had drained you. His careless, stupid words that had taken the best part of you—the part that had always been so full of life—and dimmed it.

And it killed him to know that.

***

The worst part came on a Saturday afternoon before your Sunday dinner meeting the next day, just as Logan was about to leave the shop. He had started to make a habit of stopping by, hoping that maybe—just maybe—you’d start talking to him like you used to. That maybe you’d give him a chance to make things right. But that hadn’t happened. Not yet.

As he reached the door, your voice stopped him.

“Logan?” you called softly, and he turned to see you standing behind the counter, your hands nervously fidgeting with a dishtowel.

“Yeah?” he grunted, turning to face you fully, his brow furrowed.

You hesitated, your eyes flicking to the floor before you spoke. “About tomorrow… You don’t have to come to dinner if you don’t want to. I… I understand if you’d rather not.”

Logan’s heart sank. You had always invited him to Sunday dinner, ever since you’d become friends. It had become part of the routine, something comfortable and familiar. And now, you were telling him it was okay if he didn’t come. That he didn’t have to be there.

The way you said it—the quiet resignation in your voice—it was like you were apologizing for existing. Like you thought you’d pushed him too far by inviting him into your life, by asking for his company.

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with a soft sadness. “I’m sorry if I… if I pushed too hard. I just… I thought maybe you enjoyed it. But if you don’t, it’s okay. I don’t want to bother you.”

Logan stared at you, his throat tight, his chest heavy with guilt. You thought you were the one who had pushed too hard? You thought you were the one who needed to apologize?

“Don’t,” he muttered, his voice rough. “Don’t do that. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

You just gave him a small, sad smile. “It’s okay, Logan. Really. I understand.”

You didn’t wait for his response. You just turned back to the counter, your shoulders slumped as you busied yourself with cleaning up, as if the conversation had never happened. As if you weren’t slowly slipping away from him, bit by bit.

Logan left the shop with a heavy heart, the weight of everything he’d done crashing down on him all at once.

***

Logan stared at the TV, barely seeing the game. The familiar roar of the crowd, the sharp scrape of skates on ice—all of it faded into the background as his mind drifted back to you.

The silence in the cabin was suffocating. Usually, you’d be here by now, sitting next to him on the couch, your laughter filling the room as you tried to explain to him why one team’s jersey design was superior to the other. You didn’t know much about hockey, but it never stopped you from trying to keep up.

But tonight, the couch beside him was empty.

Logan shifted uncomfortably, his hand resting on the cold beer he hadn’t even opened. He thought back to yesterday, to the way you’d looked at him when you told him he didn’t have to come to dinner. The quiet apology in your voice, the way you’d tried to act like everything was fine even though it clearly wasn’t. You’d been pulling away, bit by bit, and Logan had done nothing to stop it.

He couldn’t shake the image of you standing behind the counter, your usual light dimmed, your eyes tired in a way that had nothing to do with sleep. And the worst part was, you had apologized to him. You had made it seem like you were the problem, like you had pushed too hard when in reality, it was him who had shoved you away.

And now, here he was—alone, with nothing but the echo of your absence to keep him company.

Logan reached for his phone, his fingers hovering over the screen for a moment before he sighed, setting it down on the table with a heavy thud. He didn’t know how to fix this. He wasn’t good at apologies, wasn’t good at talking about his feelings or admitting when he’d screwed up. But he couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t.

And then, like a lightbulb flickering on in the back of his mind, he realized there was only one person he could call.

Logan stared at his phone for what felt like hours, the gnawing pit in his stomach getting worse with every passing minute. He didn’t want to make this call. Of all the people in the world, Wade Wilson was the last person Logan wanted to ask for help. But Wade had been there that night. He had seen everything—and worse, he had seen you.

That meant Wade knew. And if Wade knew, well, Logan had no choice but to call him.

With a resigned sigh, Logan tapped Wade’s number. The phone rang twice before Wade’s obnoxious voice burst through the speaker.

“Logan! My brooding, hairy amigo! What can I do for you? You need a babysitter for Laura? Oh, oh! Wait, I got it—you wanna do a buddy cop movie together! I’ll be the zany, charming sidekick, and you can be the angry guy who growls a lot. Wait, you already do that. So I’ll be—"

“Wade,” Logan growled, cutting him off. “I need your help.”

There was a pause, and Logan could almost hear the grin forming on Wade’s face.

“Oh my God. Hold on. Hold the f—beep—up,” Wade said, dropping his voice like he was narrating a dramatic trailer. “‘Logan needs my help.’ Wow. Wow, guys, are we hearing this? Logan, a.k.a. the Grumpiest X-Man, a.k.a. ‘I don’t need anybody,’ is asking me for help. This is huge! Character development, people! Mark this down for the sequel.”

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose, already regretting the call. “Wade…”

“Okay, okay, I’m done. I’m done. What’s the problem? Did you finally realize that leather jackets and flannel aren’t a personality?”

Logan gritted his teeth. “It’s about her.”

Another pause. Then, in classic Wade fashion, the tone shifted completely. “Ohhh. Right, the cute neighbor girl with the coffee shop. The one you totally ruined. I remember now. Dude, you really shit the bed on that one, huh?”

Logan clenched his fist, the memory of that night still fresh in his mind. “Yeah… she heard me say some things. Things I didn’t mean.”

“Oh nooo,” Wade groaned dramatically, dragging out the vowels. “You did the whole ‘I’m a lone wolf, I don’t need friends, emotions are for weaklings’ bit, didn’t you? The classic Logan screw-up! Ten out of ten, would not recommend.”

Logan didn’t respond, which was answer enough.

“Dude, she was standing right there with coffee and brownies!” Wade continued. “You might as well have drop-kicked a puppy in front of her. It was painful to watch! I mean, not as painful as X-Men Origins: Wolverine, but still…” He paused, and Logan could practically hear him smirking. “You know she left that tray behind, right? I ate the brownies. They were a little too sweet, but solid effort. Girl’s got a good heart.”

Logan growled, feeling the sting of regret twist deeper in his chest. “I get it, Wade. I messed up.”

“Yeah, no kidding. But here’s the thing, Wolvie,” Wade said, his tone suddenly shifting to something more genuine. “She didn’t just hear you. She heard you, you know? She was standing right there. That ‘annoying’ comment? That hit her like a damn truck. And if you think she’s just going to bounce back with a smile and a cup of coffee like nothing happened, you’re delusional. This is a Hallmark movie waiting to happen, and right now, you’re the grumpy lumberjack who just drove her back to the city.”

Logan swallowed, the weight of Wade’s words hitting him hard. He hadn’t just hurt you; he’d made you feel like you didn’t matter. And for someone like you—someone who put so much heart into everything you did—that was unforgivable.

“So what do I do?” Logan muttered, his voice low.

“You gotta fix it, obviously,” Wade replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You’ve gotta show her that you care. And yeah, that means talking about your feelings, Logan. I know it’s your least favorite thing after happy endings and Deadpool sequels, but tough luck. She’s not a mind reader. You gotta tell her what she means to you.”

Logan frowned. “I don’t… I don’t know how to do that.”

Wade made a dramatic sigh. “Oh, come on! You’ve got claws, a healing factor, and that grizzled Clint Eastwood vibe going on, but you don’t know how to tell a girl you care about her? Listen, all you gotta do is be real. Apologize for being an emotionally constipated idiot, and tell her the truth. That’s it. No drama. No over-the-top declarations of love. Just tell her how you feel.”

Logan sat in silence, the weight of Wade’s words sinking in. He knew Wade was right—God help him, Wade was actually right. If he didn’t fix this, he’d lose you. And after everything, he couldn’t let that happen.

“And for the record,” Wade added, breaking the silence, “if this turns into some epic romantic moment, I better be invited to the wedding. I’ve already got a Deadpool tux ordered, and trust me, it’s glorious.”

Logan sighed, already regretting the call. “Thanks, Wade.”

“Anytime, Wolvie,” Wade chirped, his voice back to its usual annoying cheer. “Now go make things right, and remember—don’t stab anyone while apologizing. That’s generally frowned upon.”

Logan hung up, staring at the phone for a moment longer. Wade’s advice was ringing in his ears. He had to fix this. He had to tell you the truth, no matter how hard it was.

Because losing you wasn’t an option.

***

Logan stood outside your coffee shop, the weight of his own guilt pressing down on him harder than any enemy he’d ever faced. He’d never been good with words, never been good at talking about feelings or admitting when he was wrong. But this? This was something he had to do.

The bell above the door jingled as he pushed it open, the familiar scent of coffee and freshly baked pastries filling the air. It was a comfort, but today, it did little to ease the tension in his chest.

You were behind the counter, as always, but Logan could tell right away that something had changed. You weren’t your usual self. Gone was the bright energy that had always seemed to follow you around like a cloud of sunshine. You smiled at customers, sure, but it was strained, and your usual chatter was replaced by polite, quiet exchanges.

Logan made his way to the counter, the words of apology swirling in his head, but when you looked up at him, something inside him twisted painfully. You looked tired—not physically, but emotionally. The light in your eyes had dimmed, and it was all because of him.

“Logan,” you greeted him softly, your voice polite but distant. “What can I get you?”

He shifted awkwardly, his usual gruff demeanor faltering as he tried to find the words. “We need to talk,” he said, his voice low.

You hesitated for a moment, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of the counter. “I’m working right now,” you replied, your tone calm but guarded. “But we can talk later. After I close up.”

Logan swallowed the lump in his throat. The distance in your voice was like a knife twisting in his gut, but he nodded. “I’ll wait,” he muttered.

You gave him a small, tight smile, the same one you’d been giving him ever since that night. The same one that wasn’t real.

“Okay,” you said quietly, and then you turned back to your work, leaving Logan standing there, feeling more lost than ever.

As he left the shop, Logan couldn’t shake the image of you trying to hold it all together—trying to act like his words hadn’t hurt you when he knew damn well they had.

And that was when he realized: this was the moment Wade had warned him about. He couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine. He had to tell you the truth, or he’d lose you for good.

And losing you was something he couldn’t handle.

***

Logan stood in the dim light of Beans of Heaven, waiting for the last customer to leave. The smell of fresh coffee hung in the air, comforting but laced with tension. He had rehearsed this conversation a thousand times in his head, but the words felt like jagged rocks in his throat. He wasn’t good at this—never had been. Hell, most of his life had been spent avoiding conversations like this altogether. But tonight, Logan couldn’t avoid it anymore.

You were cleaning up behind the counter, your movements slower than usual, the exhaustion clear in the way your shoulders sagged. You hadn’t said much to him since the night you overheard him—a few words here and there, nothing more. Logan didn’t blame you. He’d hurt you. Badly. And now, he had to own up to it.

When the last customer finally walked out, you turned the sign on the door to "Closed" and exhaled softly. You didn’t even glance his way as you started wiping down the tables. It was like the distance between you had grown into a chasm, one that Logan didn’t know how to cross.

But he was going to try.

“Can we talk?” Logan asked, his voice gruff but quiet.

You paused mid-wipe, your back still turned to him. There was a long, tense moment before you nodded and turned around to face him, leaning against the counter. You didn’t say anything, but your eyes told him enough—you were listening, but barely. Your guard was up, and Logan had no one to blame but himself for that.

“Let’s sit,” Logan said, gesturing to one of the tables.

You hesitated, then walked over to the table and sat down. Logan followed, his heart pounding harder than it had in any battle he’d fought. This wasn’t like fighting an enemy—he couldn’t punch his way through this. He had to speak, to explain himself, and that scared the hell out of him.

He sat across from you, his hands resting on the table, fingers tapping against the wood as he searched for the right words. For a moment, he just looked at you—your face drawn, tired, but still beautiful in that way that had pulled him in from the start. And he hated himself for what he was about to say, for the truth that was going to spill out.

“You deserve the truth,” Logan began, his voice low, rough. “About me. About why I… pushed you away.”

Your eyes flicked up to meet his, and he saw the hurt there, the confusion you’d been carrying ever since that night. He swallowed hard and continued.

“I ain’t from here,” he said, the words awkward as they came out. “Not… this world, I mean. I come from another universe. I came here—ended up here—after a lot of shit went down. My past… it’s a mess. Hell, I’m a mess.”

Your brow furrowed slightly, but you didn’t interrupt. Logan knew he had to keep going, to let the words out before he lost the nerve.

“I was part of a team once,” Logan continued, his gaze dropping to his hands. “The X-Men. We fought for something bigger than ourselves. We tried to make things better… tried to protect people. But I failed them. I let them die. All of ‘em. Professor X, Scott, Jean… the people I cared about most in the world. I couldn’t save them. And it broke me.”

He clenched his fists, the memories crashing down on him like a wave. He had relived those moments over and over again—his failure, the pain of losing everyone he loved.

“I ain’t good with people. Never have been,” Logan said, his voice raw. “I’ve spent my whole life pushing people away, ‘cause I know what happens when they get close. They get hurt. Or worse. I’ve seen it too many times.”

Logan hesitated, his eyes flicking back up to yours. There was something there—a softness, a flicker of understanding, but the hurt was still lingering behind it.

“That night,” Logan said, his voice dropping even lower, “when Wade started talkin’ about you… about us… I panicked. All I could think about was how I didn’t want to drag you into my mess. How I didn’t want to get close, ‘cause I knew it’d end up the same way it always does. So I said those things—those stupid, hurtful things. I didn’t mean ‘em. But I said ‘em anyway.”

Your expression didn’t change, but your fingers tightened around the edge of the table. Logan exhaled, feeling the weight of his confession pressing down on him.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he continued, his voice thick with regret. “But I did. And I can’t take that back. I don’t expect you to forgive me, or to trust me again. But you deserve to know that none of this is your fault. I pushed you away because of me. Because I’m afraid of losing you. Of losing anyone else.”

The silence that followed felt like it stretched on forever. Logan stared at the table, waiting for your response, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn’t know what he expected—anger, tears, maybe even for you to get up and walk away.

But when you finally spoke, your voice was quiet, steady.

“You hurt me, Logan,” you said, and the words hit him like a punch to the gut. “I’ve spent my whole life being the person who’s too much. Too loud. Too bubbly. People get tired of me. They always do. And when you said those things… it felt like you were just like the rest of them. Like you’d gotten tired of me too.”

Logan clenched his jaw, hating himself more with every word you spoke. He hadn’t just hurt you—he’d made you feel like you weren’t enough. Like you were the problem, when it was really him all along.

“I ain’t tired of you,” Logan said, his voice hoarse. “It wasn’t about that. It was my own damn head, my fears… my screwed-up past. I never wanted to hurt you. I swear.”

You looked at him for a long moment, your eyes searching his face as if you were trying to find some piece of the truth hidden there. Logan waited, his chest tight, his breath shallow. The silence between you felt heavy, thick with everything that had been left unsaid for too long.

When the silence stretched on too long, Logan shifted uncomfortably in his seat, murmuring a soft, “I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say. He’d laid it all out, and now it was up to you.

Logan pushed back from the table, ready to leave—ready to give you the space you needed, the space he had denied you by showing up tonight. He stood up, muttering, “I’ll leave you be. I shouldn’t have—”

“Logan.”

Your voice stopped him mid-step, and he turned to look at you, surprised.

You weren’t looking at him directly, but your voice was softer now, a little less guarded. “There’s a Cup final this Friday, and I was thinking… I could really go for some good beer.”

Logan stared at you for a second, processing your words. It wasn’t much—it wasn’t forgiveness, not yet—but it was something. It was an opening.

And for the first time in days, Logan felt a glimmer of hope.

“Beer, huh?” Logan grunted, his lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smile. “I think I can manage that.”

You looked up at him then, a small, tentative smile playing at the corners of your lips. And in that moment, Logan knew—he hadn’t lost you completely. Not yet.

***

Logan noticed it in the way your conversations shifted. There was a playfulness between you now that hadn’t always been there before. You teased each other more, flirted even—though you hadn’t quite called it that yet. It was lighthearted at first, a few sarcastic remarks here, a little banter there, but it started to build into something more, something that made Logan’s chest tighten every time you smiled in response to one of his comments.

There were nights when the two of you would close up the shop together, and instead of going your separate ways, you’d sit together in the shop long after it had closed, sharing stories and laughing about things that weren’t even that funny. Logan would bring over a six-pack of beer or you’d dig into the pastries that didn’t sell that day, both of you just… existing together in a way that felt easy, natural.

And the flirting? It became less subtle over time. There was a heat behind it now, a charge that wasn’t there before, like the two of you were slowly testing the waters of something more but neither of you wanted to be the first to dive in.

One night, Logan had come over to your place, a rare occurrence, but something that was happening more frequently. You had invited him over after the shop had closed, and instead of sitting in silence or watching hockey, you’d both cracked open some beers and ended up watching a cheesy romantic comedy that was so bad, it was actually kind of good.

The movie wasn’t exactly what Logan had expected—it was all grand gestures and overly dramatic declarations of love—but there was something about watching it with you that made it… bearable. More than bearable, actually. He found himself laughing along with you, making sarcastic remarks at the ridiculous plot, and somewhere along the way, he realized that he was enjoying it.

Not because of the movie itself, but because of you.

You’d both sat on the couch, not quite touching but close enough that Logan could feel the warmth of your body beside his. And as the movie dragged on, filled with all the usual rom-com clichés, Logan couldn’t help but think about how different this felt—how different you felt. There was something so easy about being around you, something that calmed the constant storm in his head.

But there was something else too.

Logan found himself watching you more than the movie, the sound of your laughter pulling him out of his own thoughts. He’d never really thought about it before, but your laughter was like a balm—so different from the world he was used to. It wasn’t just noise. It was light, something that made his chest tighten in a way that felt both unfamiliar and too familiar at the same time.

When you caught him watching, you didn’t call him out for it. You just smiled, that warm, knowing smile that made him feel like maybe, just maybe, you understood him in ways no one else ever had.

“Logan,” you said softly, your eyes twinkling with amusement as the credits finally started to roll, “why do we always watch these terrible movies?”

Logan grunted, cracking open another beer. “You like ‘em,” he muttered, his usual gruff response. But there was something softer behind it now, something that wasn’t just irritation.

You chuckled, nudging his shoulder playfully. “Yeah, but you could just say no, you know. You don’t have to suffer through them with me.”

Logan shot you a sideways glance, his lips twitching into a small smirk. “Ain’t sufferin’.”

That made you pause for a moment, your expression softening as you looked at him. There was a flicker of something in your eyes—something that made Logan’s heart pound a little harder in his chest.

“Logan,” you said again, your voice quiet but steady, “when are you going to ask me out already?”

Logan’s breath caught in his throat. He wasn’t expecting you to be so direct—not tonight, not while you were sitting there in the afterglow of a stupid romantic movie you both hated and loved to hate. But there it was, out in the open, plain as day. The unspoken thing between you, finally given a name.

He didn’t answer at first. He just stared at you, his mind spinning as he tried to process what you’d just said. For so long, he’d kept that part of himself buried—the part that wanted more than just friendship, the part that wanted you. He’d been terrified of it, terrified of what it would mean if he let himself feel that way. But now, sitting here with you, the question hanging in the air between you, he wasn’t afraid anymore.

“I… don’t know,” Logan muttered, his voice low, but there was no hesitation in his tone. “Guess I’ve been thinkin’ about it.”

You tilted your head, your lips curving into a small smile. “And?”

Logan’s eyes flicked up to meet yours, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he let himself be honest.

“And I think I want to,” he admitted, his voice rough but sincere. “I just… I don’t want to mess this up. Don’t want to hurt you.”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you leaned in closer, your hand resting gently on his arm. It was a small gesture, but it sent a jolt of warmth through him, one that settled deep in his chest.

“Logan,” you said softly, your eyes searching his, “you won’t mess this up. I know you. I know who you are, and I know what you’re afraid of. But I’m not going anywhere.”

Logan swallowed hard, the weight of your words hitting him straight in the gut. He’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for the inevitable moment when he’d push you too far, or when you’d get tired of him, like everyone else had. But you weren’t like the others. You were still here, still looking at him with those warm, understanding eyes, still offering him more kindness than he thought he deserved.

And for once, Logan didn’t feel the need to run.

He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with yours as the space between you disappeared. It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t some grand gesture like the ones in those stupid rom-coms. It was quiet, simple. But it was real.

“I’m askin’ you now,” Logan murmured, his voice low, his lips brushing against yours. “Will you go out with me?”

Your smile widened, and you leaned in to close the distance between you, pressing your lips to his in a soft, slow kiss that said more than words ever could.

When you finally pulled back, your eyes sparkled with that familiar light that Logan had grown to love.

“Took you long enough,” you teased, your voice soft but filled with warmth.

Logan chuckled, his hand gently cupping your cheek. “Yeah. Guess I’m a slow learner.”

But for the first time in a long time, Logan wasn’t afraid of what came next. He wasn’t afraid of letting you in, of letting himself feel something more than just the weight of his past.

Because with you, it didn’t feel like he was carrying that burden alone anymore.

***

Logan hadn’t been on a date in… well, longer than he cared to admit. Most of his relationships in the past had been more of the “let’s get this over with” variety, not the kind of thing you planned or made special. But this—you—was different. He wanted to do this right. Wanted to show you that he was serious, that you mattered.

The problem was, he didn’t have a damn clue what “doing it right” even meant. What did people do on dates nowadays? Was it still flowers and a fancy dinner, or was that too old-fashioned? The last time Logan had actively thought about dating, people were still sending telegrams. He needed help, but the only person who came to mind made him groan internally.

Wade.

Of course, it had to be Wade.

Logan knew what he was getting himself into when he dialed the number, but that didn’t stop the immediate regret that washed over him when Wade answered on the first ring.

“Wolverine! You calling to finally admit that I’m the most charming, delightful human being in your life? Or is this about the wedding? Because, listen, I already have the tux, and it’s a Deadpool tux. It’s perfect. You’re gonna love it.”

Logan rubbed the bridge of his nose, already tired. “Wade, I need advice.”

There was a beat of silence, and then, predictably, Wade launched into a full-on monologue.

“Oh my God. Everyone stop! Logan needs advice! This is monumental! This is character development at its finest, folks. Truly groundbreaking stuff. So what is it? Planning a trip to the library? Want me to help you pick out your next flannel shirt? Or—wait, wait. It’s about her, isn’t it?”

Logan’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t deny it. “Yeah. I need to plan a date.”

“A DATE?!” Wade’s voice went up several octaves, and Logan immediately regretted every decision that had led him to this moment. “Oh, this is amazing! I knew it! I knew it! You and her, finally making it happen! See, I told you—grumpy loners can find love too!”

“Wade,” Logan growled, already losing his patience.

“Right, right. Focus,” Wade said, his tone shifting into something resembling helpfulness. “So, you’re planning a date. And you’re completely clueless, right? No worries, big guy. Your ol’ pal Wade is here to help you out. Here’s what you do: skip the over-the-top romantic crap. Don’t try to be something you’re not. She likes you for you, not for some shiny version of Logan who shows up with roses and a speech. Just… do something the two of you will actually enjoy. Something that won’t make either of you uncomfortable.”

Logan frowned, considering Wade’s words. As much as he hated to admit it, Wade had a point. A candlelit dinner at some fancy restaurant wasn’t him, and it sure as hell wasn’t you. You’d see right through it, and the last thing Logan wanted was to make you feel uncomfortable.

“Just be yourself, man,” Wade continued, as if he hadn’t already dropped enough wisdom for one phone call. “Do something that’ll make you both relax. Oh! And if things go well, don’t forget—consent is sexy. It’s the Wade Wilson guarantee.”

Logan grimaced. “Thanks, Wade.”

“Anytime! And remember—if you need a hype man, I’m your guy. I’ll show up in my tux with a bouquet of tacos and—”

Logan hung up before Wade could finish.

Wade’s words echoed in Logan’s mind as he sat at the kitchen table, staring at his phone. What could he do that would make this date feel like them? Something simple, something that would make you both comfortable.

Then it hit him.

That lake you had mentioned a while back—the one you’d talked about like it was the most peaceful place in the world. You’d told him about it on one of your long walks, how you used to go there to clear your head, to escape the noise of the world. A place where the stars felt closer, and everything else just… disappeared.

Logan could work with that. He wasn’t about to cook for you (that would probably end in disaster), but he could pick up some food, pack a cooler, and take you to that lake. It wasn’t fancy, but it felt right. And that’s what mattered.

The plan was simple: grab some food, drive out to the lake, and spend the evening under the stars. Just the two of you. He didn’t need grand gestures. He just needed you.

***

The sun was just starting to set when Logan pulled up to your place, his truck parked in front of your door. You stepped out, your hair tied back, wearing a beautiful dress that suited you perfectly. And damn, if Logan didn’t think you looked beautiful. No frills, no makeup—just you.

“Hey,” you said, a smile tugging at your lips as you approached the truck.

“Hey,” Logan grunted, returning your smile with a small one of his own.

He opened the door for you, and you climbed into the passenger seat, your eyes flicking to the cooler in the back. “What’s all that?” you asked, curiosity in your voice.

Logan shrugged, sliding into the driver’s seat. “Figured we’d grab some food and head out to that lake you told me about. Thought we could, y’know, just hang out.”

Your smile widened, the kind of smile that made Logan’s chest tighten in a way that felt both comforting and terrifying. “That sounds perfect.”

The drive to the lake was quiet, but it was a comfortable silence. Logan wasn’t much for small talk, and you seemed content just to sit back and enjoy the ride. The trees blurred past as they drove further away from town, the sun dipping lower and casting a golden glow over the road.

When they finally arrived at the lake, the sky had turned a deep shade of purple, the stars just starting to peek through the twilight. The water was calm, the surface reflecting the fading light in a way that made the whole scene feel almost surreal.

Logan parked the truck, grabbed the cooler, and the two of you made your way down to the shoreline, settling on a blanket he’d brought. He cracked open a couple of beers, and the two of you sat in silence for a moment, watching as the stars began to fill the sky.

“This is perfect,” you said softly, your eyes fixed on the sky above. “Thank you for this.”

Logan glanced at you, his chest tightening again. “I figured you needed a break,” he muttered. “We both do.”

You looked over at him, your smile soft. “Yeah. We do.”

***

The conversation flowed easily after that. The two of you talked about everything and nothing, the way you always did. You teased him about his gruffness, and he shot back with a sarcastic remark about your bad taste in movies. There was a lightness between you now, the tension from the past few weeks all but gone.

At some point, you pulled out one of the sandwiches Logan had bought, laughing at how he’d bought way more food than either of you could possibly eat.

“Logan,” you said between bites, “you realize this could feed a small army, right?”

He grunted, shrugging. “Didn’t want you to go hungry.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Always so practical.”

As the night wore on, the stars grew brighter, and the conversation turned quieter, more intimate. You leaned back on the blanket, your head tilted toward the sky, while Logan leaned back on his elbows, watching you more than the stars.

“I love it out here,” you murmured, your voice soft. “It feels like everything just… stops. You know?”

Logan nodded. He knew exactly what you meant.

The quiet stretched between you, the air thick with something unspoken. Logan could feel the weight of it pressing down on him, that familiar feeling in his chest growing stronger. He wanted to kiss you—needed to—but he wasn’t sure how to make that first move.

But then, you turned to him, your eyes meeting his, and there was a flicker of something there—something that told him he didn’t need to worry.

You shifted, leaning in closer, and Logan felt his heart start to race. Your lips were inches from his, your breath warm against his skin as you smiled softly.

“Logan,” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the quiet of the night. “When are you going to kiss me?”

Logan’s breath hitched in his throat. He didn’t say anything—he didn’t need to. Instead, he leaned in, closing the distance between you, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, slow kiss that made everything else disappear. The stars, the lake, the past—none of it mattered anymore.

The kiss deepened, your hand sliding up to rest against his cheek, and Logan responded in kind, his hands finding your waist, pulling you closer as the world around you faded into the background. It was soft at first, hesitant, but the more you kissed, the more the fire between you grew.

Logan could feel the heat rising between you, the tension that had been simmering for weeks finally boiling over. Your body pressed against his, your hands tangling in his hair as the kiss became more insistent, more urgent. And Logan didn’t pull away. He didn’t run.

When you finally pulled back, your lips swollen from the kiss, you looked at him, your eyes filled with a mixture of desire and something deeper.

“I usually wait until the third date,” you said, a teasing smile tugging at your lips, “but I’ve waited long enough.”

Logan’s breath caught in his throat as he stared at you, his mind racing. “You sure?”

You nodded, your smile softening. “I’m sure.”

Logan didn’t hesitate after that. He kissed you again, slower this time, more deliberate, his hands roaming over your body with a tenderness that surprised even him. And when the moment felt right, he stood, pulling you gently to your feet, his hand resting on the small of your back as he led you back to the truck.

The drive back to your place was quiet, but the tension between you was electric, the air thick with anticipation.

When Logan pulled up in front of your house, the night was still quiet, the stars twinkling overhead like a promise. He helped you out of the truck, his hand lingering on your waist as you walked to the front door.

You turned to him, your eyes searching his, and Logan could see the flicker of doubt, of nervousness, but it was quickly replaced by something else—something deeper.

“You coming in?” you asked, your voice soft but steady.

Logan didn’t answer with words. He just nodded, following you inside, knowing that whatever happened next, this was exactly where he was supposed to be.

And for the first time in a long time, Logan wasn’t afraid of what came next.

***

You and Logan moved swiftly through the shadows, hands unable to resist the pull of each other’s bodies. The moment you stepped into your room, everything else faded away. Your lips collided in a fiery kiss, the kind that left no room for hesitation. Logan’s calloused fingers cradled your face, his rough thumbs grazing the softness of your flushed cheeks, sparking a shiver that ran through you. You let out a breathy moan, silently urging him to explore further, to claim you in the way only he could.

Logan's touch was both urgent and reverent as he led you towards the bed, his lips tracing a heated path down the curve of your neck. Each kiss sent electric sparks racing down your spine, igniting your skin with anticipation. He gently guided you down onto the cool sheets, his broad frame hovering above you, an intoxicating mix of power and restraint. The weight of him, the solid, muscular planes of his chest pressing against your sensitive breasts, made you arch up instinctively, offering yourself to him—a silent, burning invitation that left him breathless.

His hands—those strong, capable hands—moved across your body with deliberate intent. He memorized every inch, tracing the dip of your waist, the soft curve of your hips, and the smooth expanse of your thighs. His fingers found the hem of the dress, tugging it upwards with a tantalizing slowness that made your breath catch in your throat. As he peeled away the fabric, revealing your lace-clad thighs, the world narrowed to just them. Your heart pounded as your desire mirrored the hunger in his gaze.

As Logan hovered over you once again, the air between you two seemed to thicken with anticipation. Your nerves fluttered, heart pounding in your chest, but now it was mixed with an undeniable heat, a pull you couldn’t resist. His eyes locked onto yours, his gaze dark and intense, and for a moment, it felt like the world had fallen away—leaving just you two in the stillness of the night.

He leaned down, brushing his lips once again against your neck, kissing it softly at first, but soon his mouth became more insistent, his tongue flicking against your skin as his hands roamed your body. Logan's touch was both gentle and commanding, tracing the lines of your curves with deliberate intent. His fingers grazed your hips, sliding up the smooth expanse of your stomach, sending shivers racing through you. You gasped softly, your body arching into his touch, as your mind warred between nervousness and a craving you couldn’t deny.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he growled softly, his breath hot against your skin as his lips continued their descent.

With slow, deliberate motions, Logan pulled your dress up, exposing you inch by inch until it was discarded somewhere on the floor. He took a moment to admire you completely, his gaze lingering on your bare skin, drinking in every curve and freckle. You felt exposed under his intense gaze, but Logan had a way of making you feel not just desired but worshiped.

The moment your lips met, everything else seemed to fade away, the world narrowing down to just the heat between you. Logan’s mouth was firm and insistent, but his kiss was careful at first, testing, coaxing you into the moment. His hand slid to the back of your neck, his rough fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss, pulling you closer. The sensation of his lips moving against your made your head spin, the warmth of his breath mixing with yours in a rhythm that quickly turned hungry.

Your heart raced as you pressed yourself against him, feeling the hard lines of his chest beneath your hands. The sharp contrast between his rugged strength and the softness of his touch sent a thrill through you, and any nervousness you had melted away under the heat of his attention. You opened your mouth to him, letting him in, and his tongue slipped past your lips, exploring you with deliberate slowness that made your body shiver.

Logan’s kisses were deep, demanding, but there was a tenderness behind them—a quiet intensity that made you feel like you was the only thing that mattered to him in that moment. His hands roamed your body, his fingers tracing the line of your waist, skimming over your hips and dipping to the small of your back, pulling you closer with every touch. It was as if he couldn’t get enough of you, like he was savoring every inch of your skin.

Your body responded instinctively to his touch, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath the fabric of his shirt. With a soft, breathless moan, you tugged at the buttons, wanting to feel him fully, skin against skin. Logan obliged, pulling away just long enough to shrug off his shirt, revealing the broad, scarred planes of his chest. Your breath caught at the sight of him, the sharp lines of muscle, the dark smattering of hair across his chest, and the scars that marked his skin—each one telling a story of battles fought and survived.

Your fingers traced the scars lightly, almost reverently, and Logan let out a low growl of appreciation, his eyes darkening as he watched you. His hands moved to your waist, his knuckles grazing the soft skin of your thighs. The feel of his hands on your bare skin made your heart race, your breath quickening as the heat between you two flared even hotter.

Logan paused, his gaze once again sweeping over your body with an intensity that made you blush. His eyes lingered on your breasts this time, barely covered by the thin lace of your bra, and then trailed down to your hips, his hand brushing lightly over your thigh. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he repeated, his voice rough with need. His fingers slipped beneath the strap of your bra, pulling it down just enough to expose one breast to his hungry gaze. He leaned in, his lips brushing over the soft swell of your skin before his mouth closed over your nipple, his tongue flicking against the hardened peak.

You gasped, your back arching as a sharp jolt of pleasure shot through you. Logan’s hand slid behind you, unclasping your bra and tossing it aside, leaving you fully exposed to him. His mouth moved to your other breast, sucking gently, his tongue swirling around your nipple while his hands roamed your body, exploring every curve, every dip, as if he was trying to memorize you by touch alone.

Your breath came in shallow pants as his mouth continued its assault, alternating between soft kisses and sharp nips that sent sparks of pleasure through you. You felt his hands slide lower, tracing the line of your panties before tugging them down your legs. The cool air hit your bare skin, but it was quickly replaced by the heat of Logan’s touch as he spread your thighs apart, his fingers teasing your folds, exploring the wetness with a slow, deliberate rhythm that made your whole body tremble.

“Logan,” you moaned, your hips rising to meet his hand, your body desperate for more of him. But he was in no hurry, his fingers moving in lazy circles, dipping into you just enough to make you gasp, but never fully giving what you craved.

He grinned against your skin, clearly enjoying the way you were falling apart under his touch. “Patience, baby,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “I want to take my time with you.”

But Logan’s control was slipping, and you could feel it in the way his breath hitched, the way his fingers tightened on your hips as he fought to keep his composure. His kisses grew more heated, more frantic, as he worked his way back up your body, his mouth finding yours again in a kiss that was hot and desperate, full of need.

You could feel the hard length of him pressing against your thigh, straining against his boxers, and the thought of him—of all of him—made your head spin. Your hand moved down, fingers brushing over the bulge in his boxers, and Logan groaned into your mouth, his hips bucking slightly at the contact.

“Fuck, baby…” he rasped, his breath coming out in harsh, ragged pants as you rubbed him through the fabric, feeling the heat of him, the way his cock twitched in response to you touch. “You’re driving me fucking crazy.”

With a growl, Logan pulled back just long enough to shed the rest of his clothes, his eyes never leaving yours as he stood above you, fully exposed. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him, his cock hard and thick, jutting towards you with a dark flush at the tip.

And he was back on you. Logan’s kisses trailed lower, his lips moving from your neck to your collarbone, then down to the swell of your breasts. Each touch sent a new wave of heat through you, your body already humming with anticipation. He lingered there for a moment, his mouth closing over one hardened nipple, his tongue flicking across it as you gasped and arched into him. But it was clear from the way his hands gripped your hips, how his kisses continued to drift lower, that he had something else in mind.

Your breath caught in your throat as Logan shifted, his hands sliding down your sides, his lips now kissing a line along your stomach. The tension in the air thickened, and your heart pounded with both anticipation and nervous excitement. His hands reached your thighs, spreading them gently, and a flush of heat spread across your skin as you lay bare before him. You felt exposed—vulnerable in the most intimate way—but Logan’s gaze, dark and hungry, made you feel worshiped rather than nervous.

“You’re just perfect,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with desire, his breath warm against your inner thigh. The words melted your last bit of hesitation, and your body relaxed under his touch, opening up to him.

Logan’s mouth hovered just over your center, his breath teasing your already slick folds, but he didn’t dive in right away. Instead, his lips brushed the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, sending shivers up your spine, as he kissed his way closer. He was slow, deliberate, savoring every moment, every touch, as if he wanted to make sure you felt everything.

Then, without warning, his tongue flicked out, parting your folds and brushing against your clit with a gentle, teasing stroke. You gasped, your hips jolting up at the sudden jolt of pleasure, your fingers gripping the sheets tightly. Logan’s hands slid beneath you, holding you hips in place, his grip firm yet gentle, and he let out a low, appreciative growl.

“You taste so fucking good,” he rasped, his voice thick with lust, and the sound of it made your body pulse with need.

He dove back in, his tongue flicking over your clit again, this time with more pressure, more intent. The sensation was electric, pleasure shooting through you with every stroke. Logan’s mouth worked you over slowly at first, his tongue swirling around your clit, teasing with light, maddening flicks that had your hips lifting toward him, silently begging for more. He knew exactly how to make you squirm, how to drive you wild with the simplest of touches.

You moaned softly, your head falling back against the pillow as your body arched, your breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. The pleasure was building, a slow, steady burn deep in your core, and Logan seemed determined to make it last. His tongue slid lower, dipping between your folds, tasting you, before returning to your clit, sucking gently. Every move he made was deliberate, calculated to push you closer to the edge without ever letting you tip over.

“Logan…,” you whimpered, your voice trembling with need. Your hips bucked again, seeking more, and Logan let out another low groan as he tightened his grip on your thighs, holding them still.

“Patience, babygirl,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a mix of command and amusement. But there was a hunger in his tone too, a barely restrained urgency that matched the fire burning inside you.

His tongue pressed harder now, flicking and circling your clit in a rhythm that had you gasping and trembling beneath him. Every stroke of his tongue sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, your body responding to him in ways you couldn’t control. Your hands flew to his hair, fingers tangling in the strands as you held him close, unable to stop the desperate little sounds spilling from your lips.

“Please, Logan…” you gasped, voice barely more than a breath. You were so close now, the tension inside you coiling tighter and tighter with every flick of his tongue, every teasing suck. You could feel the edge coming, but you needed more—needed him to push you over.

Logan’s response was a deep, throaty growl that sent vibrations straight through your core. His tongue moved faster, his mouth working you with an intensity that had your whole body trembling. His lips closed over your clit, sucking hard now, while his fingers slipped down to your entrance, sliding inside you with ease, filling you with a deep, deliberate rhythm that matched the movements of his tongue.

“Oh God… Logan…!” you cried, your voice breaking as your body arched off the bed. The pleasure hit you like a tidal wave, crashing over in powerful, uncontrollable waves. Your orgasm tore through, your muscles clenching as your entire body trembled, your pussy pulsing around his fingers as he continued to work you through it.

Logan didn’t stop, didn’t let up, his mouth still sucking gently at your clit, his fingers still buried deep inside you, coaxing every last bit of pleasure from your trembling body. He groaned against you, clearly enjoying the way you came undone beneath him, the way your body responded to his touch.

Your vision blurred, your breath coming out in sharp, uneven gasps as the pleasure finally began to ebb, leaving you limp and trembling beneath him. Your hands slipped from his hair, falling to the bed as your body went slack, utterly spent.

Logan kissed his way back up your body, his lips trailing along your stomach, breasts, before finally reaching your mouth again. His kiss was soft this time, gentle, as if to soothe the lingering aftershocks of your release. You melted into him, your hands finding his shoulders, holding him close as you tried to catch your breath.

“You okay, baby?” he murmured against your lips, his hand brushing the hair from your face as he looked down at you, his eyes full of concern despite the heat still simmering between them.

You nodded, a small, blissful smile curving your lips as you gazed up at him. “More than okay,” you whispered, voice breathless but full of affection. Logan’s touch, his attention—everything about him—had left you feeling cherished, worshiped, and utterly satisfied.

You wanted to do the same for him, but you didn’t know how. When Logan sat down, he could feel the nervousness from you.

Your heart raced as you sat on the bed, your eyes fixed on Logan, who sat shirtless in front of you, his broad, muscled chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. The room felt impossibly warm, and though you had been teasing and playful all night, nerves twisted in your stomach. You wanted to please him, wanted to make him feel as good as he always made you feel, but there was one thing you hadn’t done before.

Logan’s eyes were dark with desire, his lips curved into a small, amused smile as he watched you. “What is it, Princess?” he asked, his voice a deep rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You look nervous.”

You bit your lip, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks as you looked up at him, your voice coming out quieter than intended. “I… I’ve never… done that before.” You hesitated, glancing down at his hard and ready to go cock. “You know… going down on someone.”

Logan’s smile softened, and he crouched down in front of you, taking your hand in his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for, babygirl,” he said, his voice gentle but thick with heat. “It’s all up to you.”

You shook your head, determination sparking in your eyes despite the butterflies in your stomach. “I want to… I want to make you feel good. I just… I want you to show me. Teach me how.”

Logan’s eyes darkened even further at your words, a low growl rumbling from deep in his chest. “Fuck, sweetgirl,” he muttered, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lip. “You have no idea how much I want that. And I’ll guide you through every second, baby, if that’s what you want.”

You nodded, heart racing as you leaned into his touch, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. Logan stood up.Your eyes widened slightly as you looked up at him. He was big—thick, hard, and veined—and the thought of taking him into your mouth sent a thrill of nervous energy through you.

Logan moved closer, standing just in front of you as you sat on the edge of the bed. He stroked your cheek softly, his voice low and patient. “Just go slow, okay? Start by touching me. See what feels good for you.”

You nodded, your hand trembling slightly as you reached up, fingers wrapping around his cock for the first time. He was warm and firm, and the way he twitched in your hand made your heart race even faster. Logan let out a low groan as your fingers began to move along his length, stroking him slowly, your grip light at first, unsure but eager to learn.

“That’s good, baby,” Logan rasped, his voice thick with desire. “Just like that. Nice and slow.”

Your confidence grew a little with his encouragement, and you tightened the grip slightly, your strokes becoming more deliberate. Logan’s breath hitched, and his hand found the back of your neck, not pushing you but resting there, his fingers gently massaging the base of your skull.

You glanced up at him, eyes searching for guidance. “Is this okay?”

Logan’s dark gaze met yours, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “It’s more than okay,” he murmured, his thumb brushing your lower lip again. “You’re doing great. Now, if you’re ready… use your mouth. Just take your time.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you leaned forward, lips parting slightly as you pressed a soft kiss to the tip of his cock. Logan groaned, his grip on your neck tightening just a little, and the sound sent a jolt of excitement through you. You could taste the salty bead of pre-cum on your lips as you kissed him again, this time allowing your tongue to flick out and swirl gently around the head.

Logan hissed softly, his head tilting back as his hand flexed against your neck. “Fuck, princess… that feels good.”

Emboldened by his reaction, you opened your mouth wider, taking the head of his cock between your lips. You sucked lightly, tongue swirling around the tip as you moved your hand along his length, stroking what you couldn’t yet fit in your mouth. Logan’s low groan spurred you on, and you took him deeper, lips wrapping around him as your tongue continued to explore.

“Just like that, baby,” Logan rasped, his voice strained as his hips twitched forward, though he held back, letting you set the pace. “Use your hand to stroke the rest, yeah? Keep going slow, and just… fuck, that feels so good.”

You did as he said, your hand working in time with your mouth as you moved up and down his length, taking him a little deeper with each bob of your head. Your nervousness started to fade as you focused on his reactions—the way his muscles tensed, the way his breath came out in short, ragged gasps, the way he groaned your name when you did something right.

You could feel him pulsing in your mouth, thick and heavy, and the way his cock twitched as your tongue swirled around the underside of the head made your thighs clench. Logan’s fingers tightened in your hair, but he was still careful, still letting you lead.

“God, sweetheart… you’re fucking amazing,” he groaned, his voice rough with pleasure. “Try taking me a little deeper now. If it’s too much, just pull back.”

You nodded slightly, your lips still wrapped around him, and took a deep breath as you pushed yourself further down his length, feeling the stretch of him against your tongue. He was big, but you wanted to take as much of him as you could. You relaxed your throat, letting him slip deeper, until you could feel him at the back of your throat.

Logan groaned louder, his hips twitching forward just slightly, but he pulled back immediately, not wanting to overwhelm you. “That’s it, baby,” he muttered, his voice tight with restraint. “You’re doing so fucking good.”

You bobbed your head slowly, sucking him in deeper with each movement, your hand stroking the base of his cock while your tongue worked the sensitive underside. The sound of Logan’s pleasure, the low groans and ragged breaths, spurred you on, and you began to pick up the pace, your confidence growing with every reaction you pulled from him.

“Fuck, baby… I’m not gonna last long if you keep doing that,” Logan rasped, his voice tight as his fingers tangled more firmly in your hair. “You’re driving me fucking crazy.”

You hummed around him, the vibration making him curse under his breath as you took him even deeper, your lips stretching around his thick length. You felt a surge of pride at how you were making him fall apart, and the way his hips started to twitch forward with every stroke only encouraged you.

Logan’s breathing turned ragged, his hand tightening in your hair as he fought to keep control. “Shit, baby, I’m close… you want me to come in your mouth?”

You paused, your lips still wrapped around him, and looked up at him through your lashes, nodding slightly as best as you could. The look in his eyes darkened even further, and his grip on you tightened as he thrust gently into your mouth, his movements careful but desperate.

“Good girl,” he groaned, his voice thick with pleasure. “Just like that… fuck, I’m gonna come.”

His words sent a thrill through you, and you worked him faster, hand stroking his length while your mouth sucked him in deeper, your tongue flicking against him with each bob of your head. Logan’s whole body tensed, his muscles going taut as he groaned your name, and with one final thrust, he came hard, spilling into your mouth.

You felt the hot rush of his release, his cock pulsing against your tongue as he filled her mouth. You swallowed as much as you could, his taste salty and thick, and you kept stroking him gently, milking every last drop from him as he trembled above you.

When it was over, Logan pulled back slowly, his chest heaving as he looked down at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of awe and satisfaction. He reached down, pulling you up to your feet and kissing you deeply, his hand cupping your face as his lips lingered on yours.

“God, Princess,” he whispered against your mouth, his voice still breathless. “You’re fucking perfect.”

You smiled, cheeks flushed but your heart full of warmth. You had wanted to make him feel good, and the look in his eyes told you you had done more than that.

***

You didn’t know when you had fallen asleep, a warm haze of emotions and aftershocks from the night still lingering in your body. Apparently, that's what a mix of raw passion and orgasms can do to a person. As you started to stretch, a familiar touch stopped you — Logan's hand was resting possessively on your thigh.

“You’re awake finally,” his voice, deep and husky from sleep, sent a delicious shiver down your spine. It was the kind of voice that could melt you with just a word. He pressed a soft kiss to your bare shoulder, his breath warm against your skin. That sound alone made heat bloom low in your belly, reminding you of just how powerfully he affected you. You were still getting used to the intensity of it all, how he had this effortless way of making you feel like you could combust under his touch. It wasn’t just lust, but something deeper. The way his presence made you feel desired, seen.

His morning erection nudged against your ass as his mouth trailed down your shoulder, teasing the sensitive spot at your neck with soft bites. "Last night was incredible," you whispered, feeling the soft ache between your thighs from the passion you'd shared. His mouth found your ear, his teeth grazing the lobe, and a soft gasp escaped your lips.

You could feel the smile in his voice as he replied, “You were amazing.”

You blushed at his praise, remembering how vulnerable you'd felt when you told him last night about your nervousness. He had a way of making you feel safe, even in your most insecure moments. But here he was now, his hands tracing your curves, cupping your breasts with a mix of gentleness and hunger. His thumb grazed over your nipples, making your breath hitch. "You're the one to talk," you murmured, barely able to focus as his hands roamed over you.

He chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the way your body responded to him, as if it were made to fit against his. His thigh slid between your legs, pressing just right against your clit, making you gasp and instinctively roll your hips. "Relax, princess," he purred, the nickname sending a fresh wave of heat through you.

But as much as your body begged for more, a sudden urgency interrupted the moment. “I need to pee,” you said, almost breathlessly. You hated to stop him, but your body had its demands.

Logan let out a playful growl of frustration, making you giggle as he rolled onto his back. “That was mean,” he grumbled. You leaned over and kissed the tip of his nose, unable to hide your smile.

"I'll be quick. You go make coffee."

His hand gave your ass a playful swat as you slipped out of bed, both of you laughing softly, the easy intimacy of the morning wrapping around you like a warm blanket. Even as you headed for the bathroom, you felt his eyes on you, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before his hands were back on your body.

***

And you were right. The coffee was nice, though Logan couldn’t help but tease, mentioning it would have tasted even better if you’d made it yourself. You smiled at his playful jab, both of you leaning into the easy conversation about the day ahead. You mentioned wanting to hit the pool on your day off, but Logan’s eyes narrowed playfully, letting you know he preferred the gym instead. You nearly made a joke about him being like a cat avoiding water, but you bit your tongue, enjoying the teasing exchange.

As you gathered the coffee mugs, the moment felt light and perfect. "What do you want for breakfast?" you asked over your shoulder. "I could make French toast if you'd—"

Before you could finish, you felt Logan’s strong hands slide onto your hips, pulling you gently back into him. His touch was warm, sending a shiver down your spine, and you gasped softly as his lips found your neck, trailing slow, lingering kisses along the sensitive skin. His breath was hot, and the deliberate, sensual way he kissed you had your pulse quickening in an instant.

“How about we take a shower first?” he suggested, his voice husky, each word laced with promise.

You smiled, leaning back into him, your body already reacting to his touch. "Somehow, I don’t think a shower is all you're thinking about, Logan," you teased, though your voice was softer now, betraying the way his closeness made your thoughts scatter.

He chuckled low, the sound rumbling through you as he turned you around to face him. His eyes were dark with desire, and before you could say another word, he kissed you, hard and full of need. His lips claimed yours in a way that made you melt against him, and as his tongue slipped into your mouth, teasing and tasting, a soft moan escaped you. His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you closer, pressing your body against his as the kiss deepened.

“We’ll shower…” he whispered, breaking the kiss just enough to press his lips to yours again, a series of quick, heated pecks that left you breathless. “Eventually.”

Before you could react, Logan’s arms wrapped around you, lifting you off the floor with ease and tossing you playfully over his shoulder. You squealed in surprise, laughing as he carried you effortlessly toward the bathroom.

“Logan!” you giggled, your voice a mix of surprise and excitement, heart racing as he walked with purpose.

“I’m going to take my time with you, princess,” he said, his voice low, teasing, and filled with all kinds of promises as he stepped into the bathroom. “I’ll wash every inch of you—thoroughly.”

The way he said it made heat bloom inside you, and as he set you down, you could feel his gaze trailing over your body, lingering with unspoken desire.

***

The steam in the bathroom thickened, swirling around you both as Logan's hands slid over your waist, guiding you gently back under the warm spray of the shower. Water cascaded down your skin, adding to the heat building between you, his fingers tracing delicate patterns on your wet body. The room was filled with a mix of heat and the soft sounds of the water splashing, but it was his gaze that held you captive — intense, filled with hunger and something deeper that made your heart race.

His lips found yours again, softer this time, as though savoring the taste, but the kiss quickly deepened, his hands moving up to cup your face. Your body responded instinctively, leaning into him as the warmth from the water mingled with the growing heat between you. His hands were everywhere — sliding down your back, pulling you closer until your bodies pressed together, the water making every touch more electric, more intimate.

The sensation of his skin against yours, the slick, wet heat between you, sent shivers down your spine. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss intensified, becoming more urgent, more needy. Logan’s hands slipped lower, resting on your hips, and he lifted you effortlessly, pinning you gently against the cool tile of the shower wall. The contrast of the heat from his body and the coolness of the tiles behind you made you gasp softly, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively.

He paused for a moment, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing heavy as he gazed into your eyes. There was something raw in that look, an unspoken desire, as if he was making sure you were fully with him at that moment. You nodded slightly, your hands running through his damp hair, urging him on, and that was all the encouragement he needed.

Logan’s lips trailed down your neck, hot and wet from the shower, and you couldn’t hold back the soft moan that escaped as his mouth found your collarbone, biting gently before soothing the skin with soft kisses. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you firmly in place, every touch deliberate, every kiss igniting a deeper sense of longing.

The rhythm between you was slow, teasing, as though he was taking his time exploring every inch of you, memorizing the way your body responded to him. The water poured over you both, heightening every sensation, and you could feel the tension building, the anticipation thick in the air.

“Logan…” you whispered, breathless, your voice barely above the sound of the shower. He responded with another deep kiss, his hands sliding down your back, holding you even closer, making it impossible to tell where his body ended and yours began. Each movement was fluid, natural, as if you were both made for this — for each other.

His lips returned to your neck, trailing fire down your skin, and the combination of the heat from the water and his touch had you lost in the moment. Every kiss, every touch, every whispered word between you was a promise, a building of tension that pulled you both deeper into the connection you shared.

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his breath ragged. “I’ve wanted this for so long…” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

You smiled softly, feeling the same way, your fingers brushing across his jawline as you leaned in for another kiss, softer this time, full of the unspoken feelings between you. The moment wasn’t just about the physical connection — it was something deeper, something that lingered in the way his touch made you feel cherished and wanted.

The shower continued to rain down around you, but in that moment, all you felt was him — the warmth of his body, the tenderness of his hands, and the growing intensity of your shared desire.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your ear, his voice low and thick with lust. His fingers trailed down your stomach, his touch teasing, deliberate, as he spread your legs with one of his own, positioning you just how he wanted. His rough hand slipped between your thighs, fingers sliding through your slick folds, and the instant he found your clit, your whole body jolted at the sharp, sudden pleasure.

A soft moan escaped your lips as Logan’s fingers started to work you, circling your clit with slow, firm strokes that had your hips rocking against his hand instinctively. The warmth of the water mixed with the heat radiating off his body, but it was nothing compared to the growing fire in your core as Logan’s touch sent sparks of pleasure shooting through you.

His other hand gripped your waist, holding you steady as his fingers moved faster, pressing harder against your clit in a way that made your legs tremble. His lips were back at your neck, kissing you, his teeth grazing your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

“I’ve barely touched you, and you’re already so fucking wet for me,” Logan growled, his voice dark and filled with satisfaction as he teased you, his fingers slipping lower, finding your entrance and pushing inside you. His fingers curled deep, hitting that perfect spot that made your breath hitch, and your body tensed, the pressure inside you building rapidly.

“Logan…” you gasped, your hands bracing against the tile as you leaned into him, your hips grinding against his hand, desperate for more of the pleasure he was giving you. His touch was skilled, practiced, every movement pushing you closer to the edge, but he kept control, taking his time, making you feel every single stroke.

“You’re gonna come for me, baby,” he whispered, his voice hot against your ear, his fingers working faster now, his thumb brushing over your clit in perfect rhythm with his thrusts. “I want to feel you come all over my hand.”

Your breath came out in ragged pants, your body trembling as the tension inside you coiled tighter and tighter, ready to snap. Logan’s fingers pressed harder, his pace relentless, and you could feel the orgasm building fast, the pleasure overwhelming as he drove you closer to the brink.

“Come for me,” Logan growled, his voice rough and commanding as his thumb circled your clit one last time, his fingers curling deep inside you. “Now.”

That was all it took. Your body tensed as the orgasm ripped through you, sharp and intense, your pussy clenching tight around his fingers as the pleasure exploded inside you. You cried out his name, your legs shaking as your body trembled under the force of your release, every wave crashing over you harder than the last.

Logan groaned low in his throat as he felt you come, his hand never stopping, his fingers stroking you through every last tremor of your orgasm. “Good girl,” he muttered, his voice thick with pride as he held you steady, his body pressed tight against yours. “That’s it, baby… just like that.”

When the last waves of your orgasm finally ebbed, you slumped back against him, breathless and trembling. But Logan wasn’t done with you yet. His lips brushed against your ear, sending another shiver through you as his fingers slipped from between your legs.

“Turn around,” he commanded softly, and you did, your legs still weak from your release, but your body aching for more of him.

Logan knelt in front of you, the water pouring over his broad, muscled shoulders as he looked up at you with dark, hungry eyes. “I want to taste you,” he growled, his hands gripping your thighs as he spread them apart. “And I’m going to make you come again.”

Your heart raced as he pressed his mouth against your already sensitive core, his tongue flicking over your clit with quick, teasing strokes that made you gasp and grab his shoulders for support. The pleasure hit you instantly, the aftershocks of your first orgasm still rippling through your body as Logan licked and sucked at your clit with a precision that left you trembling.

“Logan… oh my God…” you whimpered, your fingers tangling in his wet hair as you rocked your hips against his mouth, already feeling the heat building inside you all over again. His hands gripped your thighs tighter, holding you in place as he devoured you, his tongue swirling around your clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through you with every movement.

He groaned against you, the vibration making your legs shake as he worked you over, his tongue relentless, his mouth hot and wet as the pleasure built faster this time, more intense. Your body was still buzzing from the first orgasm, your nerves already raw, and Logan seemed determined to push you even further.

“You taste so fucking good,” he rasped against your core, his voice low and rough as he dove back in, his tongue flicking over your clit in a rhythm that had you gasping for breath, the edge of another orgasm already within reach. “I want you to come in my mouth, baby. I want to feel you fall apart again.”

His words sent a fresh wave of heat through you, and you could feel the tension coiling tight in your core, your body on the verge of breaking as Logan’s tongue worked you faster, harder. The pleasure was overwhelming, your hips bucking against his face as you chased the release that was already so close.

“Logan… please…” you whimpered, your voice trembling as the orgasm built inside you like a storm, the pressure too much, too intense. But Logan wasn’t letting up, his mouth relentless, his grip on your thighs bruising as he growled against your clit.

“Come for me,” he commanded, his voice dark and rough as his tongue flicked over your clit one last time, pushing you over the edge.

You shattered. The orgasm tore through you, harder than the first, your whole body trembling as the pleasure ripped you apart. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, your legs shaking as you cried out his name, your pussy pulsing with every wave of your release.

Logan groaned into you, his mouth still moving, drawing out every last tremor of your orgasm until you were completely spent, your body weak and trembling from the intensity of it. When he finally pulled back, his lips glistening, he looked up at you with a satisfied grin.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he growled, standing up slowly, his hands sliding up your body as he pulled you against him.

You could feel the hard length of him pressing against your stomach, his cock thick and pulsing with need. But Logan wasn’t in a rush. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a deep, slow kiss, his hands roaming your body as the water poured over both of you.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and rough with desire. “But I’m not going to come until you do again. I want to feel you come around my cock.”

Your heart raced at his words, your body already aching for him, desperate for him to fill you. “Please, Logan,” you gasped, your nails digging into his back as you rocked your hips against him. “I need you inside me.”

Logan groaned, lifting you effortlessly as he positioned himself at your entrance. The tip of his cock brushed against your slick folds, teasing you for a moment before he thrust inside, filling you completely with one slow, deliberate movement.

The sudden fullness made you gasp, your back arching against the tiles as Logan buried himself deep inside you, stretching you in a way that made your body tremble all over again. He didn’t move at first, just held you there, his forehead resting against yours as he groaned low in his throat.

“Fuck, you feel so tight,” he growled, his breath hot against your lips as he began to move, his hips rolling in slow, deep thrusts that made you moan.

He set a slow, deliberate pace, each thrust deep and powerful, his cock dragging against your inner walls in a way that made you feel every inch of him. The pleasure built quickly, your body still sensitive from your previous orgasms, and you could feel yourself teetering on the edge again as Logan’s thrusts grew harder, more desperate.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groaned, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he drove into you, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you with every stroke. “I’m not going to last much longer, baby… but I want you to come first. I need to feel you come around my cock before I fill you up.”

His words sent a jolt of heat through you, your body responding instantly to the idea of him coming inside you, of him filling you completely. The tension inside you coiled tighter, the pressure building fast as Logan fucked you harder, his breath ragged as he chased his own release.

“Logan…” you gasped, your fingers gripping his shoulders as the pleasure built inside you, your whole body trembling as the edge came rushing toward you. “I’m so close…”

"Come for me," Logan growled, his voice rough with need as his thrusts became more frantic, his cock driving into you harder and deeper with every stroke. "I want to feel you fall apart around me, baby. Then I’ll fill you up.”

His words sent you spiraling, the intensity of his movements pushing you closer to the edge with every thrust. The way he filled you so completely, the way his cock dragged against every sensitive spot inside you, left you gasping for breath, your nails digging into his shoulders as you clung to him.

“Logan… oh God, I’m gonna come,” you whimpered, your voice shaking as your body tensed, the orgasm building inside you like a tidal wave ready to break.

“That’s it,” he growled, his grip on your hips tightening as his pace quickened, his control slipping as he drove into you harder, faster. “Come for me, baby. I need to feel it.”

And then it hit you. The orgasm crashed through you like a storm, your body convulsing around him as the pleasure tore through you, your pussy clenching tight around his cock. Your head fell back against the tiles, a broken moan escaping your lips as you cried out his name, your whole body trembling violently with the force of your release.

Logan groaned deeply, his movements faltering for a moment as he felt you come around him, your pussy pulsing and squeezing his cock with every wave of your orgasm. “Fuck, that’s it,” he growled, his voice strained as he fought to hold on, his hips still thrusting into you, prolonging your pleasure.

He didn’t stop. Even as your body trembled with aftershocks, Logan kept going, his pace relentless as he chased his own release. His breath came out in ragged gasps, his forehead pressed against yours as he groaned, “I’m gonna come… I need to fill you up.”

His words, dark and laced with raw need, sent a fresh wave of heat through you. The thought of him coming inside you, of being filled completely, made your body pulse all over again, your hips instinctively bucking up against him.

“Please, Logan… I want it. I want you to come inside me,” you gasped, your voice thick with desire as you clung to him, your nails scraping down his back.

Logan groaned loudly, his thrusts turning erratic, desperate as he reached the edge. His grip on your hips tightened, his hands nearly bruising as he slammed into you one last time, burying himself as deep as he could go. With a low, guttural moan, he came hard, his cock pulsing inside you as he spilled into you, filling you with his hot release.

“Fuck… Princess…” he groaned, his body trembling against yours as he rode out his orgasm, his hips twitching as he pumped every last drop into you.

You could feel the heat of him, thick and warm as it filled you completely, the sensation sending a final shiver of pleasure through your body. Logan’s breathing was ragged, his forehead resting against yours as the last waves of his release washed over him. For a moment, the world was silent, the only sound was the steady rush of water and your uneven breaths as you both held each other, trembling in the aftermath.

Logan kissed you softly, his lips brushing against yours as his hands moved to cradle your face. “You’re fucking incredible,” he murmured, his voice rough but filled with a deep satisfaction.

You smiled against his lips, your heart still racing as you whispered, “So are you, Logan.”

His cock softened inside you, but neither of you moved, the warmth of the water and the heat of the moment wrapping around you both like a cocoon. Logan held you close, his forehead pressed to yours as he whispered, “I’m never getting enough of you.”

The water continued to pour down over both of you, your bodies still intertwined, but now the intensity of the moment had softened into something warm and intimate. Logan held you close, his chest pressed against yours, the heat of his breath mingling with the steam swirling around you. He smiled down at you, the look in his eyes softened by the tenderness that followed the passion you had shared.

“I did promise to wash every inch of you, didn’t I?” he murmured, his voice low and playful, but there was a gentle sincerity beneath it. His hands glided down your sides, steadying you as he reached for the bar of soap resting on the shelf nearby.

You smiled up at him, feeling the warmth of his touch as his soapy hands returned to your body. “I thought you forgot about that,” you teased, but your voice was soft, content.

Logan chuckled softly, his eyes dark but affectionate. “I never forget a promise,” he whispered, his lips brushing yours in a brief, tender kiss before he turned his attention to washing you, as he had promised.

With slow, deliberate movements, Logan’s hands traveled over your skin, spreading the lather of the soap along your shoulders, down your arms, and across your back. His touch was firm but soothing, almost reverent, as though he was savoring the simple act of caring for you. His fingers trailed down to your waist, his touch lingering as he washed your hips, his eyes occasionally flicking up to meet yours with a gentle smile.

His hands continued lower, gliding over your thighs, every movement patient, unhurried. He made sure to wash every inch of you, taking his time as the soap mixed with the water, rinsing away the remnants of the passion you had shared. It wasn’t just about getting clean—it was a moment of connection, of closeness, that lingered between you both.

“You’re perfect,” Logan whispered, his eyes tracing the lines of your body as he knelt slightly to wash your legs. His voice was soft, almost like he was speaking to himself, but the words sent warmth blooming in your chest.

When he finished, he pulled you close again, his lips brushing your temple as the water poured over both of you. “Your turn,” he murmured, handing you the bar of soap.

With a smile, you took it, running the lather between your hands as you began to return the favor. You started at his broad shoulders, your hands gliding over his firm muscles as the soap spread across his skin. Logan let out a soft sigh of contentment, his eyes closing as he leaned into your touch, his body relaxing beneath your hands.

Your fingers trailed down his chest, tracing the scars that marked his skin, feeling the strength beneath your touch. Logan opened his eyes briefly, catching your gaze, a small smile tugging at his lips as you moved your hands lower, over his abdomen, down his hips. You took your time, washing him just as thoroughly as he had done for you, the intimacy of the moment deepening as you cared for each other.

When you were done, Logan cupped your face in his hands, leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice rough but full of affection.

You smiled against his lips, your arms wrapping around his neck as you kissed him back, the warmth of the water and the closeness of his body making you feel safe, cherished.

As the last of the soap washed away, Logan turned off the water, the sound of the shower replaced by the quiet hum of the world outside. He grabbed a towel and gently wrapped it around your shoulders, pulling you close to him as he dried you off, his hands moving slowly, almost reverently.

Once you were dry, he toweled off himself quickly before pulling you into his arms again, his chest warm against your skin as he kissed the top of your head. “Let’s get out of here before we shrivel up,” he teased lightly, his voice still soft, but there was a playful glint in his eyes.

With a smile, you let him lead you out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom, where the warmth and comfort of the soft sheets awaited you. Logan pulled you down onto the bed with him, his arms wrapping around you as he drew you close, holding you against his chest.

“You’re something else, sweetheart,” he murmured softly, his lips brushing your forehead as you snuggled into him, your body relaxing completely in his arms.

You smiled, feeling completely at peace as you whispered, “This was the best date I have ever been on, Logan.”

“Good,” he whispered back, his hand gently stroking your hair as you both settled into the quiet comfort of the moment. Wrapped in each other’s arms, the intensity of the night faded into a deep sense of contentment, leaving only the warmth of the connection you shared as you drifted off together, completely at ease in each other’s presence.

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