#marvel James Logan Howlett
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Feral! Logan in Scogan ship this, animalistic protectiveness! Logan in Scogan that- NOâźď¸âźď¸âźď¸ FERAL! SCOTT IN SCOGANâźď¸âźď¸âźď¸âźď¸âźď¸âźď¸âźď¸âźď¸ APESHIT! SCOTT LETTING LOOSE IN ORDER TO PROTECT &/OR RESCUE HIS STINKY BOYFRIEND/HUSBANDâźď¸âźď¸âźď¸âźď¸âźď¸âźď¸âźď¸âźď¸âźď¸âźď¸âźď¸âźď¸âźď¸đŁď¸đŁď¸đŁď¸đŁď¸đŁď¸đŁď¸
#shitpost#X-men#X-men comics#X-men movies#marvel#marvel comics#marvel movies#Marvel James Logan Howlett#marvel wolverine#marvel scott summers#marvel cyclops#marvel scogan#scogan#marvel cyclaws#Cyclaws#Marvel slimjim#Saw someone calling their ship that & I couldnât resist bbghgggg#Slimjim ship#james logan howlett#scott summers#bullshit to keep me going âžď¸â¨#Feral Scott feral Scott ferAL SCOTT FERAL SCOTT FERALâ#Yâall when I say I NEED (for the thousandth time in any fandom Iâm in :â)) THIS PLS YALL FGAAAAAAAAAAAAA#Feral! Scott summers#Feral scott summers#Marvel laserclaws#Laserclaws
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What was considered peak masculinity back in the 2000s is now considered as little meow meow energy in 2024
This clearly shows how far we've progressed and become even more improved versions of ourselves.
As for this godly man, he's still as fiery and yet so sweet even two decades later, if not more, as he was all those years ago.
#keeping us captivated since 2000#logan and hugh are synonymous now#this man deserves the entire universe#deadpool and wolverine#x men#deadpool 3#logan james howlett#wade wilson#poolverine#deadclaws#loganpool#imagine your otp#otp prompts#writing promt#hugh jackman#ryan reynolds#old man yaoi#deadpool x wolverine#marvel memes#mischievous thunder
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the hitman's doggyguard
#deadpool#wolverine#deadpool and wolverine#deadpool 3#deadpool movie#wade wilson#logan howlett#james howlett#james logan howlett#dogpool#poolverine#deadclaws#wolverpool#xmen#x men#marvel#illustration#art#mikart
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someone fetch peepaw his robe!!! run him a bath!!!! cook him dinner!!!
#deadpool and wolverine#wolverine#wolverine x reader#james howlett#logan howlett#deadpool 3#the wolverine#deadpool movie#wade wilson#deadpool x wolverine#james logan howlett#x men#x men movies#marvel#mcu#marvel cinematic universe#marvel comics#marvel mcu#deadpool#deadclaws#wade x logan#hugh jackman#deadpool vs wolverine#logan#poolverine
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(they consume my thoughts on a daily basis đ)
#deadpool and wolverine#wolverpool#deadclaws#deadpool 3#Wolverine#james logan howlett#wade wilson#wade x logan#logan x wade#x men#x men movies#marvel
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Most underrated part of the Deadpool & Wolverine movie is when Deadpool mentions that his girlfriend left him, and Wolverine's first response was to say, "You had a girlfriend???" because he genuinely can not fathom that this man is into women
#at that point he had only seen him hit on men#and he spent like all of the movie hitting on Wolvie#honestly if I was Wolvie I'd be surprised too#deadpool and wolverine#deadpool & wolverine#deadpool#wade wilson#wolverine#james logan howlett#logan howlett#xmen#x men#deadpool movies#marvel#poolverine
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They should have fucked in that car
#poolverine#deadpool#wolverine#deadpool and wolverine#deadpool 3#logan#wade wilson#james logan howlett#james howlett#marvel mcu#deadpool x wolverine#ryan reynolds#hugh jackman
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Honestly, they should've hired me for a poster. I think I'd have done great.
#fanart#my art#my art 2024#marvel#art#artists on tumblr#marvel comics#deadpool#marvel deadpool#wade wilson#deadpool 3#deadpool and wolverine#james howlett#xmen wolverine#the wolverine#wolverine#james logan howlett#logan howlett#x men#poolverine
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This is Ours [Logan Howlett]
Summary: It's your first time back at your grandparents' farm in years, and while many things are the same, one thing is not: they've hired a new farmhand.
Warnings: fem!reader, SMUT, sexual tension, angst, fluff, lots of feelings WC: 18.8k - MASTERLIST
A/N: apologies for dropping another long fic but i literally could not stop writing the juices were flowing. i really hope you enjoy this! i think its my fave so far :)
----
For as long as you can remember, summers were synonymous with your grandparents' farm. It was a tradition, one you held close to your heart. To you, your time there embodied your entire childhoodâdays spent under the sun, where the air was thick with the scent of wildflowers and the soothing chorus of cicadas filling the long, golden afternoons.
Mornings began early, with you bounding downstairs to join your grandparents for breakfast. The kitchen was always filled with the comforting aroma of fresh coffee and pancakes. Your grandfather would be at the table, engrossed in his newspaper, while your grandmother hummed softly as she cooked, the sound of the morning radio playing faintly in the background. Your days were spent exploring the fields, helping with the chores and horses, or sitting on the porch with your grandmother, listening to stories from her youth.
It couldnât get any more perfect than that.Â
But as the years passed, things changed. After you graduated high school, the summer visits became less frequent. University took up more of your time, and you were always busyâfirst with classes, then with internships, and finally with starting your career. The farm, once the centre of your world, became a place you could only visit if you were lucky, and even then, it was never for long.Â
You miss it.
This year, however, things were different. You found yourself in between jobs, with the first real break youâd had in what felt like forever. And when the moment the opportunity arose, you knew exactly where you wanted to go.Â
â
The drive to your grandparents' farm is a journey into the past. The country road, lined with trees that stretched out like old friends, brings back a flood of memories from your childhood: where youâre sitting in the back of your parentâs car vibrating with excitement. You pass the same fields, still as vast and green as you remember, dotted with flowers swaying gently in the breeze, and the old oak tree where you used to swing as a child stands tall, its branches reaching up to the sky as if welcoming you back.
When you finally pull up to the farmhouse, the sight of it fills you with a deep sense of nostalgia. The white paint is more chipped than you remember, the porch sags a little more in the middle, and you can tell that itâs been a while since the grass was last trimmed.Â
Stepping out of the car, the screen door squeaks open, and thereâs your grandmother, standing on the porch, wiping her hands on her apron. Sheâs smaller than you remember, more fragile, but the smile on her face is the sameâwarm, welcoming, and full of love. âThereâs my girl,â she calls out, rushing down the steps and into the driveway as fast as she can.Â
âGrandma!â you exclaim, hurrying toward her to wrap her in a hug.
She pulls back to look at you, her eyes twinkling despite the lines of age etched on her face. âYouâve grown even more beautiful, but you look tired. Weâll fix that with some good meals, wonât we?â
You laugh, nodding. âI missed your cooking.â
âAnd I missed having someone to cook for,â she replies with a chuckle, patting your cheek. âCome inside. Your grandpaâs been counting down the days until you got here.â
You grab your suitcase from your car and follow her into the house, the familiar scents of fresh bread and old wood enveloping you the minute you step inside. Itâs just as you rememberâcozy, lived-in, filled with the glow of years worth of love and memories. Your grandfather sits at the kitchen table, a pair of reading glasses perched on the tip of his nose as he reads a book. He looks up as you enter, and the moment he sees you, his face breaks into a wide grin.
âThereâs my favourite farmhand,â he jokes, letting out a grunt as he places one hand on the table, slowly pushes out of his chair.Â
âGrandpa,â you say, meeting him halfway for a hug.Â
âGot here just in time,â he says with a wink. âPlenty of work to do, you know.â
âI figured,â you reply, playfully nudging him. âIâm ready to get my hands dirty.â
âGood to hear,â he says, leaning back against the table for support. âThis old back of mine isnât what it used to be.â
Your grandmother sets a glass of lemonade in front of you and sits down, her eyes flicking toward the window. âWeâve had to make some changes around here, sweetheart,â she begins gently. âYour grandpa and I⌠well, we canât do as much as we used to.â
You hum, listening carefully. Seeing your grandparents grow older is difficultâit's a constant reminder that time is slipping away, and the moments you have together are becoming more precious with each passing day.
âWeâve hired some help,â she continues. âA man named Logan. Heâs been a blessing, really, taking care of the heavier work. But heâs⌠well, heâs not much of a talker.â
âLogan?â you ask, glancing out the window.Â
Thatâs when you see him. Tall and broad-shouldered, he is out by the barn, carrying some hay. Heâs wearing a worn-down flannel with jeans, and his dark hair is slightly tousled. Even from a distance, you can tell heâs strongâhe looks like he knows what heâs doing.Â
âYeah, Logan,â your grandfather confirms. âKeeps to himself mostly, but heâs getâs the job done. Donât mind his gruffness; heâs just not used to people fussing over him.â
âHeâs been here since last spring,â your grandmother adds. âWe needed the help, and he needed the work. Itâs been good for both sides. You should go and introduce yourself after you unpack, dear. Maybe get in some work before we sit for dinner later.â
Nodding, you walk up the stairs in the house and make your way to your room. It looks exactly the same as the last time you saw it. Your old stuffed animals are organized neatly on the shelf above the bed, and the quilt your grandmother made for you, with patches of faded fabric from old dresses and curtains, is spread across the bed the exact same way itâs always been.Â
The posters on the walls, the little knickknacks on the dresserâeverything is a snapshot of your younger self, preserved in this room like a time capsule. Itâs comforting, but also a little bittersweet, a reminder of how much time has passed since you had last visited.
After a few moments of reminiscing, you stand up and begin unpacking, carefully placing your clothes in the old wooden dresser. Each drawer creaks as you open it, the sound a part of this roomâs charm. You smile as you come across some of the little treasures you left behindâa pressed flower between the pages of an old book, a seashell from a family trip to the coast, and last, a picture of you and your grandparents taken one summer when you were about ten.
Youâre standing between them, beaming with a toothy grin, their arms wrapped around you in a warm embrace. The three of you are standing in front of the barn, with the sun setting behind you. You can almost hear your grandmotherâs laugh as the camera clicked, your grandfatherâs playful grumbling about having to pose for âjust one more picture.â The photo captures a moment of pure happiness, a snapshot of a simpler time.
Setting the photo down, you quickly begin to change into your designated farm clothes, and head out to meet the new face around here.Â
The trek to the barn isnât very long, just a few minutes away from the main house, and from the outside, you can hear the familiar sounds of workâfootsteps crunching on the hay-strewn floor, the creak of wood as something heavy is moved. You pause at the doorway, taking a moment to observe him before stepping inside. Heâs focused, his movements efficient as he lifts another bale of hay and stacks it with the others.Â
You take a deep breath, and step into the barn. âLogan?â you call out softly.
He doesnât stop what heâs doing, but with a slight pause and glance over his shoulder, his eyes, sharp and intense, meet yours, and thereâs a moment where youâre not sure what to say. âIâmââ
âI already know who you are,â he grunts, cutting you off.Â
His abruptness catches you off guard, but you quickly recover, nodding. âRight. I guess that makes sense.â
âIf you wanna help, thereâs a broom in the back shed,â he continues, going back to his work as if the conversation is already over. âYou could sweep up the hay.â
You bristle, a little surprised at how quickly he dismissed you, but youâre determined not to let it rattle you. After all, your grandparents did warn you that he wasnât much of a talker. âSure,â you say. âI can do that.â
As you turn to head toward the back shed, you find yourself lightly imitating his gruff tone under your breath, a flicker of irritation running through you. âThereâs a broom in the back shed. Yeah, obviously, I know where the broom would be,â you mutter.
In the shed, the broom is in fact, exactly where you expected it to be, and you huff, grabbing it and walking back to the barn. When you return, Logan is still hard at work, stacking the hay, and doesnât bother to acknowledge you yet again. You set to work sweeping, the rhythmic motion of the broom soon lulling you into a steady state. The barn is quiet, save for the soft shuffling of hay under your broom and the occasional grunt from Logan as he moves the heavy bales.
Time seems to pass slowly, the light outside growing softer as the sun dips lower in the sky. Youâre so caught up in your thoughts that you barely notice when Loganâs footsteps stop. Itâs only when his voice breaks the silence that youâre pulled back to the present.
âYour grandma called for dinner,â he says, causing you to jump a bit at the unexpectedness of his voice in the silence. Before you can respond, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there with the broom still in hand. You let out a small sigh, feeling the tension in your shoulders. This is going to be a long few months, you think to yourself as you return the broom to its usual place and jog back to the farmhouse.
Inside, the kitchen smells like a warm hearty stew. The table is already set, the familiar blue-and-white checkered tablecloth in place, and your grandparents are seated, chatting quietly as they wait for you and Logan to join them.
You slide into the seat across from your grandmother just as Logan walks over from the sink, two glasses of water in his hands. He places one in front of you with a quick nod, and the other at his own seat, beside yours.
âSo,â your grandmother says, her eyes shining with curiosity as she looks between the both of you. âI take it youâve introduced yourselves to each other?â
You hesitate momentarily, your mind flashing back to your brief encounter in the barn. âYeah, we have,â you reply, managing a smile, if you can call it that.Â
Logan doesnât say anything, his focus on the bowl of stew in front of him. He doesnât seem interested in joining the conversation, which only adds to the growing sense of awkwardness you feel. You glance at him briefly, wondering if heâs always this closed off or if itâs just his way of dealing with new people.
âWell, thatâs good,â your grandmother says, either oblivious to the tension or choosing to ignore it. âLoganâs been a big help around here. Weâre so grateful to have him.â
Your grandfather hums in agreement, scooping a spoonful of stew into his mouth before adding, âHeâs got a strong work ethic. Doesnât shy away from the tough jobs, thatâs for sure.â
Nodding along, you feel the pressure to say something positive. âThatâs great. Itâs good to know the farmâs in good hands.â Even thought the words are definitely a bit forced, you mean it.Â
As the conversation continues, your grandparents shift the focus to you, asking about your job search and what youâve been up to since you last visited. You give them a brief rundown of the interviews youâve had, the options youâre considering, and the challenges youâve faced. You try to keep it light, not wanting to worry them with your uncertainty, but you canât help but notice the manâs presence beside you, still silent.Â
At one point, when youâre talking about finding a new apartment, you hear him let out a quiet scoff, and you cast a look over, catching the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips. Itâs gone almost as quickly as it appears, but itâs enough to make you pause. You want to ask him what that was about, to challenge him on whatever it is heâs thinking, but you bite your tongue. This isnât the time or place, not in front of your grandparents who are just happy to have everyone around the table.
They continue to chat with you, asking more about your plans and offering their usual words of encouragement. When dinner finally wraps up, your grandmother insists on cleaning up, waving you off when you offer to help. âYouâve had a long day, dear. Why donât you go relax? Logan can help me with the dishes.â
You smile. âThanks, Grandma.â
Heâs already started collecting the dishes by the time you stand up, but itâs like he refuses to recognize your existence, and that pisses you off.Â
â
The next morning, you wake before dawn, the world still wrapped in the gentle embrace of night, and for a moment, you lie still, listening to the deep, pulsing of the houseâthe way the wooden floors creak slightly as they settle, the distant sound of the wind rustling through the trees outside. The comfort of knowing your grandparents are asleep down the hall brings a sense of calm that you havenât felt in a long time.
Deciding to take advantage of the early hour, you slip out of bed, your feet brushing against the cool floor as you stretch, feeling the muscles in your body slowly wake. You dress quietly, pulling on a soft, worn sweater, and pad downstairs, careful to avoid the spots on the stairs that you know will creak.
You move through the kitchen as if on autopilot, your hands knowing exactly where everything is. You set the coffee to brew, and the rich aroma sills the room.
Reaching for the eggs, you crack a few of them into a bowl, and as youâre whisking, you let your mind wander, thinking about how to spend the day. The soft sizzle of butter in the pan gets your attention and you pour the eggs in, watching as they begin to set around the edges.Â
You pour yourself a cup of coffee, the steam rising from the mug in delicate spirals, and you take a sip, savouring the warmth and flavour hitting your tongue, while your gaze drifts over to the window that faces the back of the farmhouse.Â
Your grandparentsâ own horses, and you recognize some of them from when you were younger. It makes you happy knowing that theyâre still being well taken care of. The way the early light touches the land, and the morning dew covers the grass, you canât help but smile into your mug.Â
Slowly, you walk a bit closer to the window, eager to take in the view you had been missing all these years, when a figure standing over by the horses catches your eye. Itâs Logan, a small surprise given the early hourâyou didnât hear him wake upâbut he stands there, leaning casually against the fence, an apple in his hand.Â
You watch as he holds out the apple to one of the horses, his rough hand moving gently over its neck as it eats. Thereâs something unexpectedly tender in the way he interacts with the animal, a patience and care that you didnât expect to see from him, given how he acted yesterday.Â
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out another apple, offering it to the second horse, who hungrily accepts it. You continue to stare at the sight outside. This side of himâso different from the unapproachable exterior heâs shown so farâstirs something inside you, a desire to connect with him, to see if thereâs more to him than meets the eye.
On impulse, you quickly turn off the stove, grab a second cup of coffee and some toast youâve just buttered, and without overthinking it, you head outside. The morning air is cool against your skin as you make your way over to Logan.Â
As you approach, he keeps his attention focused on the horses. You take a moment, then clear your throat lightly, holding out the coffee with a tentative smile. âThought you might want some breakfast,â you offer, trying to keep your tone light and friendly.
He finally glances at you, his eyes briefly meeting yours. His expression is just as unreadable his had been in the last sixteen hours youâve known him, and then he grunts, âAlready ate,â and turns his attention back to the animals in front of him.
His curt, and honestly rude rebuffals really frustrate you. Itâs not like youâre asking him to wipe your ass after you go to the washroom, so you have absolutely no idea why heâs like this.Â
âAlright,â you mutter, lips pressed together in a thin line, and turn to head back into the kitchen.Â
Once inside, you set the untouched coffee and toast back on the counter with a sigh. You feel a tad bit awkward. Youâre going to be spending the next however-many-months with him, and you would love it if you could at the very least, get along. His rough-around-the-edges personality is not making this enjoyable for you, and youâre sure that he probably just seeâs you as an annoying nuisance.Â
And itâs not like youâre ever going to pull this card on him or anything, but you have been here longer than him, despite the fact that heâs acting like he owns the place. You get it, heâs been here for a for a while, and itâs only been him doing the work, blah blah. But youâve been helping and doing the work your entire childhoodâmissing a few years doesnât take away that fact.Â
With a heavy sigh, you open a cupboard and pull out a plate, scraping the eggs off the pan and setting them on it. Because your grandparentsâ are still asleep, all you can do is eat in silence.
â
Youâve decided that today you are going to trim the grass. Thereâs always something to do around here, and since the long grass was one of the first things you noticed upon arrival, you think itâs best to just get that chore over with, considering how long you know it will take.Â
Once youâve finished cleaning the dishes and pan, you go back upstairs into your room and get changed. Today, you put on a long sleeve, and a small vest over top. Your pants are some hand-me-down working pants from one of your older cousins, and you snatch a baseball cap from your closet for when it begins to get hotter out.Â
Walking to the back shed, you grab some tools for trimming the lawn. A lawn mower, a string trimmer, and a rake for after everythingâs been cut. Moving over to the back section of the lawn, you set the trimmer and rake against the barn and start using the mower. Itâs the same one your grandparents have used since you were a child, so itâs a reel lawn mower instead of those newer, more electrical ones youâve seen around the city.Â
You canât really complain about it, so you just begin, the steady repetitive action of moving the tool back and forth being somewhat therapeutic. The smell of freshly cut grass begins to hit your senses, and you truly feel at peace.Â
As the minutes pass, the sun rises higher, its warmth spreading across the fields. Youâre completely absorbed in your work, the rhythm of mowing and the occasional chirp of birds the only sounds around you. Youâve missed this. The sounds of cars honking and early morning city traffic has nothing on the serenity of country life.Â
Youâre just completing the first half when you sense movement nearby. Glancing up, you see Logan walking up to you, having grabbed the trimmer. He doesnât say anything, just starts up the machine and heads over to the next patch of grass within the area.
Thereâs a brief moment of eye-contact, like a subtle unspoken recognition to the effort you seem to be putting in. He gives you a small nod, and turns to focus on his task. The two of you work side by side, the hum of the machines, the scent of fresh-cut grass, and the warm sun overhead creating a strangely comforting atmosphere.Â
When you finally finish, few hours have passed, and you walk back over to the barn and grab a lawn bag and the rake. And because Loganâs machine was electric, he seems to have finished his section as well, so you begin raking up all the stray pieces of grass.Â
You quick to find out how awkward it is to hold the lawn bag open with one hand while trying to rake with the otherâthe grass keeps slipping out of the bag, and you canât help but feel a bit ridiculous as you fumble with the task. You scan around, hoping Logan wonât notice, but of course, heâs right there, watching as you flail around.
You feel a flush of embarrassment creep up your neck, but before you can say anything, he steps forward. Like usual it seems, he doesnât say a word, just holds out his hand as if asking for the rake. You falter briefly, not wanting to seem like you need his help, but at the same time you understand how much more efficient it would be if he joined.Â
Reluctantly, you hand it over, and he immediately starts working with the same steady efficiency he brought to trimming the grass. With both hands free, you manage the lawn bag more effectively, holding it open as Logan rakes the grass into neat piles.
The silence between you isnât uncomfortable; instead, it feels like a natural extension of the morningâs work. The sound of the rake scraping against the ground, the rustle of grass being gathered, and the occasional whinny from a horse nearby.Â
After the last of the grass is finally raked and bagged, you tie off the lawn bag and glance over at him. He leans the rake against the barn wall and meets your gaze. Thereâs something in the way he seems to stare at you head on this time, rather than just a quick look, that makes your chest fill with satisfaction.Â
You nod. âThanks.â
Logan dips his chin in return, then turns and heads back toward the barn. The heat of the sun really starts to hit you now, and you take a peak at your watch, noticing that itâs already lunch time. Knowing that even if you tried to invite him, heâs probably say no, you just walk back to the farmhouse alone.Â
â
The next couple of weeks unfold in the same way, moving with an almost predictable rhythm. Each morning, you wake before the sun, quietly slipping out of bed while your grandparentâs are still asleep. As you prepare and eat breakfast, you take your usual place by the kitchen window, watching as Logan interacts with the horses.Â
Then, as the sun rises higher, you head out to begin your chores around the farm. Sometimes, Logan joins you without a wordâhis presence now a familiar and abating part of your routineâor sometimes, you find yourself working alone, but even then, you know heâs never far away.Â
Youâve learned to read his silences, to understand that his gruff demeanor isnât necessarily unfriendliness, but rather his way of navigating the world. And though he doesnât speak much, his actions have a way of communicating more than words ever could.
One morning, as youâre finishing up breakfast, your grandparents announce their plans to head into one of the nearby cities for the day. âWe need to run some errands and pick up a few things,â your grandmother explains, her hands busy packing a small bag. âBut we were thinking it might be nice for the horses to get out and see some different scenery too.â
âThey havenât been to the pond in a while. Itâs good for them to stretch their legs and take in some new sights.â Your grandfather chimes in.Â
You nod, smiling at the thought. The pond is a beautiful spot, a peaceful place where the water runs clear and cool, surrounded by tall trees and soft grass. Itâs the perfect place to spend a day with the horses. âThat sounds like a great idea. Iâll take them out there for the day.â
Your grandmotherâs eyes light up as she hands you a basket. âI packed some food and a blanket for a picnic. There are also a couple of towels in case you want to swim. Itâll be a lovely day for it.â
âThank you,â you say, appreciating the thoughtfulness behind the preparations. You take the basket and head upstairs to get ready, the idea of spending the day by the pond filling you with excitement. Itâs been a long time since youâve been there last.Â
In your room, you change into your bathing suit, a simple bikini that youâve always loved for its comfort and ease. You slip on a loose shirt and shorts over it, then grab a few essentials before heading back downstairs. Your grandparents have already left, so you make your way out to the barn to prepare the horses.
As you start saddling them up, you notice Logan nearby, focused on his usual tasks. His presence has become so customary to you that you hardly think twice before calling out to him. âHey, Logan,â you say, catching his attention.
âIâm heading to the pond with the horses,â you tell him, nodding toward the saddled horses. âGrandmaâs packed some food and a blanket for a picnic. There are even towels if you want to swim. Youâre welcome to join us if youâd like.â
He hesitates, his gaze shifting to the horses, then back to you. After a moment, he mutters, âIâve never ridden a horse before.â
The admission takes you by surprise, and you raise an eyebrow. âReally? But youâve been here for over a year. I just assumedââ
He shakes his head slightly, cutting you off. âIâve always just walked alongside them. Holdinâ onto the reins is one thing, but Iâve never actually been on top of one.â
You canât help the small smile that tugs at your lips. âThatâs okay,â you say gently. âYou can still join us. You can walk alongside like you usually do, and tomorrow, if youâre up for it, Iâll teach you how to ride.â
Logan peers at you for a long moment, considering your words. Finally, he nods. âAlright. Iâll come with you.â
âGreat,â you reply, your smile widening. âI think youâll enjoy it.â
With that settled, you both finish preparing for the trip. Logan helps you load the picnic basket, blanket, and towels onto one of the horses. You mount your favourite horse, and gently click your heels into its side, starting the trip as he begins walking, horses in tow, beside you.Â
The journey to the pond is beautiful. The green trees that frame the pathway, the soft buzzing of nature, the sound of the horsesâ hooves. You and Logan exchange a few words, but for the most part, itâs silent.Â
When you reach the pond, the sight is just as picturesque as you remembered. The water sparkles under the sunlight, the tall trees casting dappled shadows across the grassy bank. You untie the horses, giving them plenty of room to graze and explore, before you grab the picnic basket, while he grabs the towels and blankets. Making your way over to the other side of the creek, you find a nice open patch of grass to set up on.
âIâm going for a quick dip,â you say as you go about stepping out of your shorts. Logan, who is sitting down, looks up, but his eyes seem to stop dead in their tracks when they settle on your body. You swear you can physically see his gaze darken as he takes in the sight of you stripping off your shirt. Itâs subtle, but a small shiver runs down your spine at the attention nonetheless.
Without waiting for a response, you turn and and head toward the pond. The temperature is perfect: just cool enough to be refreshing without being cold.
You dive in, the reservoir embracing you as a much-needed relief from the heat. Everything feels perfectâthe gentle current against your skin, the refreshing sensation of being submerged, and the weightlessness of floating just beneath the surface.Â
But when you lift your head out of the water, you and Logan immediately lock eyes.
Heâs lying back on the blanket, propped up on one elbow, and his focus is squarely on you. The intensity of his stare is like a physical force, pinning you in place. The world around you seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you suspended in time. Your breath catches in your throat, and you can feel a heat build within you, starting in your chest and traveling down, deeper, and deeperâŚBut then, just as suddenly as it began, he looks away, and if you were any closer, you may have been able to spot the red flush creeping up the back of his neck and to the tip of his ears.
The moment is over, but the enduring feeling of it stays with you as you swim back to the shore. Water drips from your body as you step out, and you reach for one of the towels your grandmother packed. Once youâve dried off, you walk over to where Logan is sitting and drop down beside him on the blanket.Â
You are aware of eyes on you again, though this time thereâs a hesitation in the way they travel over your form, as if heâs trying to be discreet but canât quite help himself. You pretend not to notice as you reach for the picnic basket.
âIâm starving,â you say, pulling out the sandwiches your grandmother packed. âWant one?â
He nods, sitting up a little straighter as you hand him a sandwich. After a few bites, curiosity gets the better of you, and you decide to break the ice. âSo,â you start, glancing over at him, âhow did you end up here, working on my grandparentsâ farm?â
He takes his time chewing and swallowing before he answers, his eyes focused on the food in his hands. âI was passing through,â he says finally. âDidnât plan on stayinâ. But your grandparents⌠theyâre good people. Needed help, so I stuck around.â
You nod, taking another bite. âThey are good people,â you agree, thinking of how much theyâve done for you over the years. âBut where were you headed before that? Where are you from?â
Logan pauses for a moment, then looks over at you. âAlberta,â he says. âGrew up there, mostly. Been a lot of places since, but Albertaâs homeâor was.â
You smile, finding comfort in the fact that heâs sharing a bit more. âAlbertaâs beautiful,â you say, remembering the few times youâd traveled through the province. âWhyâd you leave?â
He shrugs, glancing out toward the creek. âNeeded a change. Wanted to see what else was out there. Guess I got used to movinâ around, never really settlinâ anywhere.â
You nod thoughtfully, taking in his words. âMust have been hard, never really having a place to call home.â
His gaze meets yours, and thereâs a hint of something softer in his eyes. âYeah,â he admits, his voice quieter. âBut your grandparents⌠theyâve made it easier. This farm⌠itâs good.â
You smile warmly at him. âIâm glad youâre here. Youâve been a huge help to them. And⌠well, Iâve liked having you around.â
He glances at you, his expression softening just a fraction. âYeah, itâs been alright,â he mutters, a small, imperceptible smirk on his lips. You smile bashfully.
The next couple of hours pass by in a blur. Not much conversation happens, but rather, these weird periods of time where you feel as though your eyes are glued to him, and he you. Itâs differentâunexpectedâand to put it frankly, you feel a bit shy underneath his gaze.Â
Logan is attractive, anyone with eyes could see that, but it really wasnât just his face that pulled you in, it was him. The way he would silently help you with chores, his soft moments every morning with the horses, the way he subtly looks over your grandparentsâ when he thinks they arent watching. All of it. You want to spend more time with him, learn more about who he is, what he likes⌠all of it.
Soon enough, you both begin to pack up the picnic supplies, load up the horses, and head back to the farm. The horses seem content, having had a fun day grazing and napping by the pond, and you ride beside him as he walks. Every now and then, you catch him peeking up at you from under his eyelashes, his eyes lingering just a bit longer each time.Â
You can see your grandparentâs car in the driveway as you near the farm, meaning theyâve also returned from their day in the city. Leading the horses back into the barn, the two of you go through the motions of the familiar routine of unsaddling them, brushing them down, and making sure theyâre comfortable for the night.Â
Once theyâre all settled for the night, Logan steps back, wiping his hands on his jeans as he looks at you.Â
âSo âbout tomorrowâŚâ He begins, shifting slightly, as if unsure how to phrase what he wants to say. âYou really think you can teach me to ride?â
You grin excitedly. âOf course. Iâll come out after Iâve eaten breakfast.â
âAlright then,â he says, pivoting toward the doors, his lips twitching just barely, but enough. âLookinâ forward to it.â
Your fingers are twitching at your sides as you watch him leave. You wait a few moments, then head out as well, closing and locking up the barn for the night. When you step into the house, you find your grandparents in the living room, their faces lit by the soft glow of a lamp as they relax on the chesterfield.Â
âHow was your day?â your grandmother asks, looking up from her knitting with a bright smile.
âIt was nice,â you reply. âThe horses loved it, and the pond was as beautiful as ever. We had a picnic, and it was really peaceful.â
Your grandfather, whoâs been quietly sipping his tea, sets down his cup and regards you with a knowing look. âAnd Logan? Did he go with you?â
You nod, feeling a bit of warmth rise to your cheeks at the mention of their helper. âYeah, he came along. Heâs never ridden a horse before, so he just walked with us. But Iâm going to teach him tomorrow.â
Your grandparents exchange a look, and your grandmotherâs eyes sparkle with amusement and something more tender as she smiles at you. âThatâs good, dear. Heâs a bit of a mystery, that one, but I can tell heâs got a good heart. Sometimes people just need a little time to open up.â
Chatting with your grandparentâs a bit longer, you listen intently as they fill you in on their activities. You can faintly hear the sound of Loganâs footsteps upstairs as he gets ready for bed. The memory of his gaze on you makes your heart beat a smidge faster.Â
â
Logan is unsurprisingly already at the barn when you arrive the next morning. Heâs leaning against it, arms crossed over his chest.Â
âMorning,â you greet. âYou ready to get started?â
Logan glances at the horses, then back at you. âReady as Iâll ever be.â
You lead him over to the horses, choosing one of the gentler ones for him to work with, and begin by showing him how to properly saddle the horse, explaining each step as you go. Logan watches intently, though you can see the slight furrow in his brow as he takes in all the information.
As soon as the horse is all saddled up, you hand him the reins. âOkay, now itâs your turn. Go ahead and mount up.â
He wavers for just a moment, his eyes on the horse as if weighing his options. But then, with a deep breath, he grabs the saddle and swings himself up with ease. He sits stiffly at first, his hands gripping the reins a bit too tightly, but he doesnât look as uncomfortable as you would have expected. Definitely better than your first attempt.
âYouâre doing great,â you reassure him, moving to stand beside the horse. âJust relax. The horse can sense if youâre tense, so try to loosen up a bit.â
He takes another breath, visibly trying to relax his posture. Itâs clear that heâs out of his comfort zone, but heâs determined to push through. You walk him through the basics of steering and controlling the horse, keeping your tone calm and encouraging.
After a few minutes, you guide him around the paddock, walking alongside the horse to make sure he feels secure. Logan follows your instructions with serious concentration, his movements becoming more and more natural as he gets used to the rhythm of the horseâs steps.
âYouâre doing really well,â you tell him, smiling up at him. âWant to try picking up the pace a little?â
He glances down at you warily at first, but then he nods. âYeah. Letâs give it a shot.â
You guide him through a gentle trot, staying close enough to offer guidance but giving him enough space to figure things out on his own. The horse picks up speed, and you watch as he adjusts, his body moving in sync with the animalâs movements. Thereâs a moment when he looks down at you, a spark of surprise in his eyes as he realizes heâs actually getting the hang of it.
As the morning progresses, Logan becomes more comfortable in the saddle, his confidence growing with each passing minute. You spend the next hour practicing different techniques, guiding him through turns, stops, and even a slow canter. Heâs a quick learner, and despite the initial awkwardness, you can tell heâs starting to enjoy himself.
Eventually, you lead him back to the paddock, bringing the horse to a stop. He dismounts, still a bit tense but clearly pleased with himself. He hands you the reins, his eyes meeting yours with a look thatâs both grateful and slightly sheepish.
âNot bad for a first-timer,â you say with a grin, patting the horseâs neck.
He huffs a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. âYeah, well⌠youâre a good teacher.â
The compliment, simple as it is, makes your heart skip a beat. Thereâs something about the way he says it, the sincerity in his tone, that makes you feel a warm glow inside. He begins to walk toward the back shed, undoubtedly going to start on his morning chores, but you find yourself wanting to hold onto this moment just a bit longer.Â
âLogan,â you call out, stopping him in his tracks.
He turns back, his eyes questioning.
âThanks for this morning. I really enjoyed it.â
Logan studies you for a second, then he gives you a small smile. âYeah,â he says quietly. âMe too.â
â
The days come and go, blending into one another as your first month at the farm passes by in what feels like the blink of an eye. The sun seems to rise earlier and set later with each passing day, stretching the hours out in a way that makes everything feel both languid and endless, and the heat only intensifies, something you didnât think was possible.Â
Despite the longer days and rising temperatures, you and Loganâs daily routines have now intertwined in a way that feels as natural as breathing. The once solitary moments you spent watching him out with the horses have now become something shared. Every morning, without fail, the two of you meet by the barn, where the horses greet you with soft nickers and eager eyes, ready for their daily ride.
Heâs improved a lot. He no longer looks uncomfortable or stiff, and heâs able to guide his horse with an ease that surprises even him. You can see the subtle shift in his posture, the way he holds the reins with a sureness that wasnât there before.Â
And just like when you work on the farm together, sometimes, the two of you ride in a comfortable silenceâthe only sounds being the soft snorts of the horses and the creak of leather saddles. But more often than not, you chat about everything and nothing, your conversations easy and unforced.Â
Logan, who once spoke only in short, clipped sentences, has begun to open up more, sharing bits and pieces of his past, his thoughts, and his observations about life on the farm. You learn that he has a sarcastic, dry sense of humor, one that often catches you off guard and leaves you laughing in spite of yourself. He even joins you for your usual morning breakfast of eggs and toast, something that started only a few days into your new morning ritual.Â
Yet throughout all of this, thereâs a something growing between you and Logan, simmering just beneath the surface.Â
It manifests in the little moments, the stolen glances, and the accidental touches that donât really seem to be as accidental as you may think. Itâs in the way his eyes follow you when he thinks youâre not looking, how they intensify when you laugh, or how he seems to fixate on your hands as you work, as if heâs memorizing every movement.Â
Youâre not immune to it either. You find yourself hyper-aware of his presence, the way his proximity seems to alter the air around you. In one afternoon, youâre in the barn, and sorting through a pile of hay bales. Itâs hard, sweaty work, but the itâs kind that leaves you with a satisfying ache in your muscles by the end of the day. Logan is beside you, lifting the heavy bales with ease, his shirt sticking to his back, outlining the broad expanse of his shoulders. You catch yourself staring, and quickly look away, but not before he flicks his eyes over to yours.
He doesnât say anything, but you can see it in his eyes. Itâs like theyâre telling you that he knows exactly what you were thinking, where you were staring.Â
And when youâre both tending to the horses, something happens again. Youâre brushing one down, your fingers working through its mane, when Logan comes to stand beside you, so close that you can smell his natural musk.Â
âHere, let me help,â he says lowly, not waiting for a response as he reaches out, his hand covering yours. You glance up at him, and heâs already looking down at you. Youâre acutely aware of the feel of his hand over yours, the callousness of his skin against your own, and the way his thumb brushes lightly over your knuckles as if testing the waters.
Another time, while fixing the fence out in the field, youâre both working in tandem, passing tools back and forth. At one point, you reach for a hammer at the same time Logan does, and your fingers brush against his. Itâs a fleeting touch, but it feels like a spark in the summer heat, and for a heartbeat, you both freeze, caught in that split second of contact.
âSorry,â you mumble, pulling your hand back, but the apology feels hollow in the face of what youâre actually feeling.
âNo problem,â Logan replies, his voice gruffer than usual, as he hands you the tool.Â
You can feel it. Youâre not stupid. You know something is there, and you wonder how much longer you can resist itâhow much longer you can pretend that everything is fine. But Logan is a hard man to read, and youâre not sure if what youâre feeling is reciprocated, or if itâs just wishful thinking on your part. So you stay silent, letting the tension simmer, hoping that one day, one of you will have the courage to break it.
â
Youâre not the only who seeâs it.Â
âYou know,â your grandmother says one afternoon, as youâre helping them with a puzzle. âLogan has really come out of his shell since youâve been here.â
You blink, and glance over at her. âWhat do you mean?â
She looks up from the table, her eyes twinkling with a mischievous light. âOh, you know exactly what I mean,â she says with a knowing smile. âHeâs been here for over a year, and in all that time, weâve never seen him quite like this. Heâs always been polite, of course, but distant. Reserved. But now⌠well, itâs clear heâs become quite comfortable around you.â
Your grandfather places a piece in the board and nods in agreement. âSheâs right, you know. Loganâs always been a bit of a mystery, keeps to himself mostly. But ever since you arrived, heâs been different. More⌠engaged, I suppose you could say.â
You feel a flush of heat rising to your cheeks, your heart skipping a beat at their words. âI-I donât know about that,â you stammer, trying to brush it off. âWe just⌠work together a lot. Thatâs all.â
Chuckling, your grandmother leans forward slightly. âDarling, donât be modest. Itâd be obvious to anyone that thereâs something going on between the two of you. Heâs practically a different man when heâs around you. Why, just the other day, I caught him actually smiling while you two were out riding. I nearly fainted!â
âYouâve managed to do in weeks what we couldnât do in a year. Whatever it is, itâs good for him. And for you, too, Iâd wager,â your grandfather pipes in, sending you a wink.Â
Fidgeting with your hands, you feel like a deer caught in headlights, and youâre honestly not sure how to respond. âWeâre⌠friends,â you say, though the words feel inadequate even as you say them.Â
The woman across from you raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. âHmm? Well, maybe so. But it seems to me that thereâs potential for something more there, if youâre both willing to see it.â
âI⌠I donât know,â you mumble, feeling flustered under their scrutiny. âHeâs just⌠heâs a complicated person.â
âEveryoneâs complicated, dear,â your grandfather says gently. âBut that doesnât mean theyâre not worth the effort. Oftentimes, the best things in life are the ones that take the most time to understand.â
Thereâs a moment of silence as their words sink in, the weight of their observations leaving you feeling exposed and uncertain. You hadnât fully allowed yourself to consider what you felt, let alone what Logan felt. But now, with your grandparentsâ teasing remarks, itâs impossible to ignore the possibility that there might be something more between you and Logan than just a budding friendship.
Your grandmother reaches over and gives your hand a comforting squeeze. âJust take it one day at a time, sweetheart. Whatever happens, weâre here for you.â
â
The following week, you find yourself itching for something newâa change in scenery. While the farm has been everything youâve wanted and more, you think itâd be nice to go on a drive, explore a small laketown you used to go to when you were younger. So, one morning, as you and Logan are unsaddling the horses, you muster the courage to extend an invitation thatâs been on your mind for days.
âSoâŚ,â you begin, trying to keep your tone casual. âI was thinking⌠maybe we could take a break from the farm this weekend and go into town. You know, just to get out for a bit, see something different.â
He pauses in his work, his hand stilling on the brush as he peers over at you with a raised eyebrow. âThe town?â he repeats, as if the idea is foreign to him.
âYeah,â you say, turning to face him fully. âI need to pick up a few things, and I thought it might be nice to have some company. We could grab lunch, maybe do some exploring⌠It doesnât have to be anything fancy. Just a change of pace.â
Thereâs a beat of silence as he considers your offer. His expression is guarded, as always, but you can see the wheels turning in his mind. Itâs clear that the idea of leaving the farm, even for a day, is something he hasnât done in a long timeâif ever.
âI donât know,â he eventually gets out, his tone uncertain. âBusy places are not really my thing.â
You feel a pang of disappointment at his hesitation, but youâre not ready to give up just yet. âI get that,â you say. âBut itâs not about how many people are there, really. Itâs about taking a break. Youâve been working so hard, and I think you deserve a day to relax. Plus, I could use your help carrying a few things,â you tease, hoping to coax him into agreeing.
Loganâs lips twitch as if heâs suppressing a smile, and for a split second you think heâs going to turn you down. But then he sighs, running a hand through his hair. âAlright,â he says, the word coming out almost reluctantly. âIâll go.â
You beam, unable to hide your enthusiasm. âWeâll leave early on Saturday, okay?â
âSaturday it is,â he confirms.
â
The rest of the week passes quickly, your anticipation for the trip into town growing with each passing day. You find yourself planning out the day in your head, imagining the places you might visit, the food you might try, and most of all, the chance to see Logan in a different environmentâaway from the farm and the routine that has defined your relationship so far.
So, when Saturday morning arrives, youâre up before the sun, too excited to sleep in. You dress in your favourite casual clothesâsomething comfortable but a bit more put-together than your usual farm attireâand head downstairs, where you find your grandparents surprisingly already up and about.
âOff to the city today, are you?â your grandmother asks with a smile as she hands you a thermos of coffee for the road.
âYep,â you reply, unable to keep the grin off your face. âand Iâm dragging Logan along with me.â
Your grandfather chuckles, shaking his head. âWell, that should be interesting. Donât think heâs much of a city slicker.â
âBe patient with him, dear,â your grandmother adds, laughing. âHeâs stepping out of his comfort zone for you.â
âI will,â you promise, taking the coffee and heading out the door.
Loganâs already waiting by the truck, and when you see him, you canât help but falter in your steps. The shirt heâs wearing clings to his muscular frame in a way that draws your eyes, accentuating the strength thatâs always been evident. His hair is slightly disheveled, and thereâs an almost shy quality to the way he stands there, his hands shoved into his pockets as if heâs not quite sure what to do with them.
You try to hide the fact that you were just checking him out as you ask, âReady?âÂ
ââCourse,â he replies, climbing into the passenger seat as you slide behind the wheel.
The highways are empty and the sky is clear. You chat easily about the things you need to pick up, the cute boutiques you want to visit, and even a few memories of the last time you visited the place. Logan listens more than he talks, but you can tell heâs starting to relax, the tightness in his shoulders easing as the distance passes by.
When you finally reach the town, the energy along the streets is a stark contrast to the quiet calm of the farm. The buildings tower above you, and the sidewalks are crowded with people going about their day.Â
Stepping out of the truck, you glance over at Logan. Itâs clear that heâs out of his element, but thereâs something cute about the way he takes it all in. âWhere to first?â He questions.Â
âWell,â you say, smiling at him, âI was thinking we could grab some breakfast at this little cafĂŠ I know, then hit a few shops. Thereâs a bookstore I love that I think youâd like too.â
He nods, his expression softening slightly at the mention of a bookstore. âLead the way.â
You spend the morning wandering around, exploring the shops, and enjoying a nice breakfast together. At the bookstore, you lose track of time, browsing through the shelves and picking out a few titles that catch your eye. Logan surprises you by finding a book on woodworking, something heâs always been interested in but never had much time for. You can see the way his eyes light up as he flips through the pages, and it makes you smile, happy to see him enjoying something for himself.
After spending a few more hours of exploring, you suggest one last stop before heading backâa lookout point that offers a stunning view of the lake and the surrounding landscape. Logan agrees, and you drive up to the spot, parking the truck and leading him to a bench that overlooks the water.
The view is breathtaking. You both sit in silence for a while, just taking in the scenery, allowing the peacefulness of the moment to wash over you. He is staring out into the water with a thoughtful expression when you decide to interrupt his stupor.
âLogan,â you begin, the gentle breeze from the lake rustling through the trees, âwhat did you think of me when we first met?â
He turns his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a hint of surprise, as if he wasnât expecting the question. Then he pauses for a moment, looking back out at the lake, as if gathering his thoughts.
âI thought you were different,â he says slowly, each word carefully chosen. âYou didnât act like you were above the work. You jumped right in, got your hands dirty. Most people wouldnât do that.â
You smile at the memory, remembering how you started working together the moment you met. After all, you werenât just a visitorâyou were there to help, and you knew your way around the farm. âAnd now?â you ask, your heart beginning to beat just a little faster.
He remains quiet for a few moments, his focus still on the water. When he finally speaks, heâs timid, almost bashful, as if heâs revealing something heâs kept hidden for a long time.Â
âI think youâre beautiful,â he admits, his eyes flickering back to yours. âI thought that the first time I saw you, too. It was one of the first things that hit me. But itâs more than that. Now⌠now I think youâre perfect.â
The sincerity in his words catches you off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless. Your mouth parts in surprise, and all you can do is gawk, trying to process the depth of what heâs just said.
Logan shifts slightly, his gaze dropping to his hands as he continues. âI was⌠cold at first,â he murmurs, âDidnât know how else to act. You werenât like anyone Iâd ever met. I didnât know how to handle it. But what really got to me was how you didnât shy away from thatâyou didnât let my attitude push you away. That changed somethinâ in me.â
You want to say somethingâyou should say somethingâto acknowledge what he just said, bearing in mind that was probably the most amount of words to come out of his mouth in one go, but for some reason, you canât. The only thought running through your head is that you want to reach out and touch him, to close the small distance between you.
âWhat about you?â His voice is slightly more tentative now, and he definitely just asked that to fill the silence that you were ungraciously leaving. âWhat was your first impression of me?â
His question snaps you out of your thoughts, and you gulp, now knowing that your first impression of him was very different to his of you.Â
âHonestly? I thought you were rude as hell,â you say a bit nervously, watching as his eyebrows raise slightly in surprise. âYou were so gruff, so serious⌠I didnât know what to make of you at first. But then I saw the way you took care of the horses, the way you looked after the farm, and⌠it didnât take long for my opinion to change.â
He shifts, clearly caught off guard. You can see the faintest hint of a blush creeping up his neck as he takes in what you said, and it makes your smile widen.Â
âAndâŚYouâre kind,â you continue. âThereâs this gentleness about you that I wasnât expecting.â You suck in a shaky breath. âI think youâre pretty perfect now too, if Iâm being honest.â
The tint on his cheeks only deepens, and he looks away, flustered. Itâs a rare sightâseeing him like thisâand it makes you swoon.Â
âI donât know about thatâŚâ He mutters, a small, embarrassed smile tugging at the corners of his lips.Â
âI do,â you reply firmly. âYouâre more than you think you are, Logan.â
The genuineness in your words makes him look back at you, his eyes searching yours for somethingâreassurance, maybe, or confirmation that what youâre saying is real. Slowly, almost unconsciously, you both lean in closer, locked in a stare, your breaths mingling as the space between you shrinks. You can see the way his eyes flicker down to your lips, and you feel the same pull, the undeniable urge to close the distance and see what it would feel like to kiss him overriding all your senses.
Your chest pounds as you inch closer, until you can feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. But just as your lips are about to meet, a loud, piercing scream shatters the moment.
You both jerk back, startled, and whip your heads around to see a kid nearby, his face scrunched up in disgust as he frantically wipes at his shoulder. âEw! A seagull just pooped on me!â
The kidâs parents rush over, trying to console him as they pull out napkins, and you canât help but burst out laughing at the absurdity of the interruption. The sound of your laughter is contagious, and soon Logan is chuckling a bit too.
âWell, thatâs one way to kill the mood,â he mumbles under is breath.
Youâre still laughing, the remnants of your almost-kiss still in the back of your mind, but you know the moment has passed. âYeah,â you agree, trying to catch your breath. âGuess we should be thankful it wasnât us.â
Logan grins, warm and wide. âYeah, maybe we should.â
â
Driving back to the farm, neither of you say a word about what almost transpired at the lookout point, and youâre fine with that. Thereâs no need to fill the silence with words, no need to dissect the moment or what it could have led to. You donât want there to be any sort of pressure between you, any expectations. Even if, deep down, all you want is to climb him like a tree, to feel the solid strength of him beneath your hands, and to finally give in to the attraction thatâs been building throughout your time together.Â
Pulling into the driveway and shutting of the engine, you turn to him, and turns to you, his eyes meeting yours. âThanks for today,â he says sincerely âI⌠liked it.â
You smile, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. âMe too,â you reply, your voice just as soft. âWe should do it again sometime.â
âYeah,â Logan agrees, his gaze holding yours a hint longer before he turns away, his hand reaching for the door handle. âWe should.â
â
A few days later, as everyone sits around the kitchen table after dinner, the evening suddenly takes on a new tone when your grandmother clears her throat and shoots an exchanges a conspiratorial glance at your grandfather.
âWeâve got some news,â she begins, her eyes shining with excitement. âYour grandfather and I have been invited to spend a week at the Summersâ cottage by the lake.â
You smile, genuinely happy for them. The Summers are longtime friends of your grandparents, and the idea of them getting a little vacation away sounds perfect. âThat sounds wonderful! You two deserve some time to relax.â
âWell, we thought so too,â your grandfather says. âBut that means weâll be leaving the farm in your capable hands.â
It takes a moment for the full meaning of his words to sink in. You and Logan⌠alone⌠for an entire week.
Your heart skips a beat and you glimpse over at Logan, whoâs sitting across the table from you, his expression neutral as he listens to your grandparents. But thereâs a quick flash of something that suggests heâs as aware of the situation as you are.
A voice brings you back to the moment. âNow, donât worry,â she says with a reassuring smile. âThereâs not much that needs doing, just the usual stuff. And weâll be back before you know it.â
Your grandfather leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he scans between you and Logan. âWe trust you both to keep everything running smoothly,â he says, before he drops his voice to an embarrassingly low tone. âAnd to keep an eye on each other.â
You canât help but blush at his not-so-subtle innuendo, and you quickly drop your gaze to your hands, trying to hide the warmth creeping up your cheeks. The thought of spending an entire week alone with Logan is both thrilling and nerve-wracking. The lack of a bufferâyour grandparentsâmeans that literally anything could happen.Â
âDonât worry,â you finally manage to say. âWeâve got this. You two just enjoy your time away.â
Logan, who has been uncharacteristically quiet during the conversation, finally speaks up. âYeah,â he agrees, âWeâll take care of everything.â
â
Over the next couple of days, your grandparents pack their bags and make sure everything is in order before they leave. You help them with the small details, ensuring that the house is stocked with food and that all the usual chores are delegated properly.
Finally, the morning of their departure arrives. You stand by the front door, watching as your grandparents load their bags into the car. Your grandmother gives you a warm hug, âTake care, dear,â she says, kissing your cheek before hopping into the passengerâs seat.Â
Your grandfather shakes Loganâs hand, giving him a firm nod. âTake care of things.â
He hums. âI will. Enjoy yourselves.â
With that, your grandparents climb into the car, and after a final wave, they drive down the long, dusty road that leads away from the farm.Â
Thereâs a pause.Â
Suddenly, youâve become extremely aware of how close you two are standing.Â
âSo,â you start, hoping to ease a bit of the electricity beginning to spark. âI guess itâs just us now.â
Logan swallows thickly, his adams apple bobbing up and down. âYeah,â he replies a bit deeper than usual. âJust us.â
âWhat should we do first?â you ask as casually as possible.Â
He shrugs slightly, his lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile. âSame old, I guess. Canât let everythinâ fall apart right when they leave..â
âTrue. Letâs start with that.â
The two of you move into that familiar routine of farm work. Mucking out the stalls, hauling bags of feed from the shed to the barn, tending to the vegetable garden, you do it all. But even though youâre busy with work, thereâs an underlying jitter to everything you do, a heightened awareness of each otherâs presence that just wasnât there before. And itâs impossible to ignore. Each time you make eyecontact it feels charged, almost like a promise of whatâs to come, and it has your heart racing with exhilaration.Â
That evening, after the chores are done and the sun has dropped below the horizon, youâre in the kitchen, preparing dinner while Logan finishes up outside. The quiet of the farmhouse feels different without your grandparents thereâemptier, yet somehow more intimate. Domestic. You can hear the soft creak of the floorboards as he enters the house, the sound of him washing up in the sink.
And as the evening wears on, you find yourself drawing out cleaning the dishes, not wanting to end the day just yet. Logan stays close, drying the plates and placing them back in the cupboards.
âLong day,â he grunts.
âYeah,â you agree, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. âBut it was nice. Peaceful.â
His eyes find yours. âPeaceful,â he echoes, though the word seems to hold a different meaning when he says it.
You both stay there, unmoving, until eventually, he takes a step back, as if sensing that the tension between you needs a moment to cool. âIâll check on the barn,â he says gruffly. âMake sure everythingâs locked up for the night.â
âOkay,â you reply, your voice softer than you intended.
Logan leaves to check on the barn, while heâs gone, your thoughts are a whirlwind of anticipation and nervous energy as you busy yourself with finishing up the remaining utensils.Â
Finally, unable to stay inside any longer, you decide to step outside, hoping the cool evening air will help clear your mind. You sink down onto the old porch swing, and pull your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them as you observe the darkened landscape.
A few minutes later, you hear the soft crunch of gravel underfoot, and you glance over your shoulder to see Logan approaching the porch. He walks up the steps and pauses momentarily as if debating whether to join you. Then, with a soft sigh, he settles down beside you, his shoulder just barely brushing against yours.
Itâs now or never, you think. âWe have the place to ourselves now,â you state.Â
He turns his head slightly, giving you a sidelong look, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a small, knowing smirk. âIndeed we do,â he replies.
The simple acknowledgmentâand the way he says itâmakes your pulse quicken, and you canât help the small huff of exasperation that escapes your lips. Heâs always been so tame, so careful with his words, and while you appreciate the way heâs respected your space, youâre done with tiptoeing around.
âDo I need to spell it out for you, orââ But before you can finish the sentence, Logan moves.Â
His hand reaches out, rough and warm, to cup the back of your head. Your eyes widen, and your heart thuds in your chest upon realizing whatâs about to happen. And with a firm but gentle pull, he closes the distance between you, his lips crashing against yours.
You lose track of your surroundingsâthe night, the farm, everythingâas you give yourself into feel of his lips against yours. Itâs intense and claiming, a declaration of everything youâve both been too afraid to say.
His hand tangles in your hair, holding you close as he deepens the kiss, his other hand coming to rest on your waist, pulling you closer until thereâs no space left between you. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his shirt as if to ground yourself in the moment, to make sure this is real, that heâs really here, kissing you.
Moving your lips against his with equal fervor, you pour the longing youâve been feeling all this time into it. The taste of him is intoxicating. Itâs something thatâs so uniquely himâso uniquely Loganâand you canât get enough. Youâve imagined this moment in the dead of night, but nothing compares to the reality of itâto the way he kisses you like youâre the only thing that matters.
When you finally pull back, out of breath and a little dazed, Loganâs forehead rests against yours, his breath coming in heavy, uneven pants. His eyes are smoldering and intense and his smirk is gone, replaced by a deep look of yearning.
âIâve wanted to do that for a long time,â he admits huskily. The way his voice has dropped three octaves isnât missed on you. You can practically feel it vibrate down in your puâ
âYouâre not the only one,â You whisper, interrupting your own thoughts. The connection between you has finally been acknowledged, and you feel a huge sense of relief.
He exhales a breath you didnât realize he was holding, and his hand slips from the back of your head to cup your face, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. âGood,â he murmurs. âBecause I donât think I can hold back anymore.â
You lean in, pressing another kiss to his lips. âThen donât,â you whisper against his mouth.
The spark that has been ignited between you flares up into a full blown fire, and the next kiss quickly becomes more heated. Without breaking it, Loganâs grip on your waist tightens and you let out a soft gasp as he effortlessly lifts you onto his lap. Your legs straddle his hips, and you can feel the beginning of something growing underneath you.Â
The sensation is dizzying, and you instinctively press yourself closer, your fingers curling into his hair. The swing beneath you creaks softly with the movement, but neither of you pays it any mind, too lost in each other to care.
You shift slightly on his lap, grinding your hips against him, and the movement draws a deep, throaty groan from him. He pulls back just enough to catch his breath, âGod, you drive me crazy,â and then heâs on you again.Â
Itâs wild. Hot, and heavy, and utterly consuming. His hands move from your hips to grip your ass, guiding you to move against him. It feels so good, you release a relieved sigh into his mouth, before dropping your head onto his shoulder, too caught up in the pleasure.Â
The sounds of your moans fill the air as he continues grinding you against him, his own hips bucking up into your core.Â
Biting your lip, you lift your head slightly, a teasing smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as your eyes dart toward the open door of the farmhouse. âYou know,â you begin tilting forward to bite his ear, your voice low and playful, âas much as Iâm enjoying being out here, I think we should take this inside.â
Loganâs lips quirk up into a sexy smirk. âAs you wish,â he murmurs.
As you stand up, your legs a little shaky from what just occured, you peek back at him, and see that heâs already risen to his feet. Stepping closer, you slip your hand into his as you guide him toward the door. But just as you reach the threshold, a thought crosses your mind, and you pause, turning to look up at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes.
âWe gotta go to your room,â you say, running your hands up and down his arms, feeling them flex underneath your touch.âI donât think Iâm ready to defile my childhood bedroom just yet.â
He raises an eyebrow, a grin spreading across his face as he catches on to what youâre implying. âOh, is that so?â he asks, his tone filled with mock seriousness. You wink in return. grabbing one of his hands and dragging him inside.Â
By the time you reach his door, youâre practically vibrating with excitement, your breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. The room is simple, and the bed, neatly made, sits in the center of the room. You canât help but laugh at the thought of how different it will look in just a few moments.
You turn to face Logan, but he doesnât give you time to say anything, his hand reaching out, his fingers brushing against your cheek in a touch that is both tender and possessive. His thumb traces the line of your jaw as he cups your face, his eyes searching yours for any hint of hesitation.
But thereâs none. Youâve never been more sure of anything in your life. The need for him, for this, is so overwhelming that itâs taking every ounce of strength in you to keep from throwing yourself onto him.Â
His lips find yours once more, this time more urgent, more demanding than before. He pulls you closer, his body pressing against yours. âAre you sure about this?â he asks in between kisses.
âAbsolutely,â you mumble breathlessly, your hands sliding up his chest to curl around the back of his neck. The word barely leaves your lips before Logan reacts, a low hum rumbling in his chest as if your answer has unleashed something primal within him.
He kicks the door shut behind him with a force that makes the room tremble slightly, and in the same fluid motion, he pins you against the wall, lips never leaving yours as his body cages you in.
One of his thighs nudges its way between yours, the rough fabric of his jeans brushing against the sensitive spot between your legs. The friction is maddening, electric, and it hits just right, sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine that rips a moan from your throat.
The sound only spurs Logan on, his own need evident in the way he moves against you. He moves his mouth to your neck, trailing up and down it with hungrily. The feel of his mouth on your skin, the way his teeth graze your pulse point, causes you to arch against him, your hands clutching at his shoulders for support.
You can feel the warmth of his breath as he presses his lips to the sensitive spot just below your ear, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin, as his hands explore your body. Theyâre everywhereâone gripping your hip, holding you steady against the wall, the other sliding up your side to brush against the curve of your breast. His fingers find the hem of your shirt, tugging it up, and you lift your arms to help him, the fabric sliding up and over your head before itâs tossed carelessly to the floor.
Bringing his lips back to yours, the kiss is fiery, stealing all the oxygen from your lungs as he pushes you even harder into against the wall, his thigh still working its magic. You canât help the way your hips rock against him, the need for moreâmore pressure, more friction, more him.
Logan seems to sense your desperation, moaning when his hand slips down from your breast to the waistband of your jeans. He fumbles with the button for only a moment before he gets it open, his fingers slipping inside to brush against the soft skin of your lower belly. He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze tempting and filled with a desire that matches your own.Â
âYouâre so damn beautiful,â he mutters, voice thick with want. âNo idea why I waited so long.â
You can barely think, let alone form words, but you manage to breathe out, âDonât need to wait any longer.â
The words seem to be all the encouragement he needs. In one swift motion, he slides your pants and underwear down your legs, his hands careful as he helps you step out of them. Youâre left standing before him, bare and vulnerable, but the way heâs staring at youâlike youâre the most beautiful thing heâs ever seenâmakes you feel powerful, desired in a way youâve never felt before.
He pulls you back into him, and this time, you can feel the hardness of his own desire against yoursâbareâ and it drives you insane. His grip finds you thighs as he lifts you off the ground and carries you the short distance to the bed. He lays you down gently on his bed, and breaks away long enough to strip off his own clothes. The sight of himâstrong, muscular, yoursâmakes your breath catch in your throat.Â
Thereâs a moment where heâs standing above you, just staring, his chest rising and falling with the effort to control himself. But then heâs on you again in an instant, his body pressing yours into the mattress, his lips claiming yours and leaving you dizzy.
You lean up into him, your hands sliding up his back, feeling the play of muscles beneath his skin as he moves against you. The need for more builds up to a breaking point, and you canât help the soft moan that escapes your lips as he grinds into you, hard and insistent against your core.
âLogan,â you breathe out. âPlease.â
His name on your lips seems to break the last of his control, a desperate groan ripping out of him. He begins travelling down your body, taking his time, his lips tracing a slow, deliberate path, each kiss leaving a burning trail in its wake. His hands follow the curve of your waist, your hips, his fingers digging into your skin with just the right amount of pressure to make you gasp. Your body is practically begging for him, and you know that youâre on the verge of begging too.
Once he makes it down to your thighs, he nudges them apart, giving him better access to you. He nips and bites at them, moaning along with you. And then, with a deep, almost possessive growl, he finally lowers his mouth to you, his tongue flicking out to taste you. You react immediately, a wave of pleasure coming over you, your hands fly into his hair, tugging at the strands as you try to pull him closer.
Loganâs hands tightening their grip on your thighs as he delves deeper. Youâre lost in the sensations, the pleasure growing and growing until itâs all you can think about, all you can feel. Your body is on fire, every nerve ending alight with desire, and the only thing that matters is the way he is making you feel, the way heâs driving you toward a release that you know will be earth-shattering.
And then, just as you think you canât take any more, he pulls back slightly, his lips still hovering over you as he looks up at you, eyes black. âTell me what you want,â he commands.
You can barely think, let alone form coherent words, but you manage to breathe out, âYou. I wantâI need you.â
That seems to be wanted he wanted to hear, so with a final kiss to your inner thigh, he moves back up your body, connecting his lips to yours again. You can taste yourself on his tongue as his hands slide under your thighs, lifting you slightly to position himself at your entrance.
The anticipation is almost too much, the need for him so immense that you canât hold back the whimper that escapes your lips as begins to push, the tip of him just barely inside you, teasing, testing your patience.
âOh god,â you moan. âI need you. Please.â
And then, finally, Logan gives you what youâve been wanting since that time at the pond. With one slow, deliberate thrust, he pushes inside you, filling you up completely.Â
Everything seems to stop for a moment, the only sound the ragged gasps of breath between you, the only feeling the overwhelming pleasure of being joined together like this, of finally having what youâve both wanted for so long.
He pauses, lowering his head in the crook of your neck as he lets you adjust to the feeling, his breath hot and heavy against your collarbone. And then he begins to move, slow and steady at first, each thrust driving you closer to the edge, the coil inside you tightening with every stroke. The feel of him inside you, the way he moves against you, is everything youâve been dreaming of and more, and you canât help the way your body responds to him, your hips lifting to meet his every movement.
The gentle, deliberate pace soon gives way to something more urgent, more desperate, as the need for release takes over. Each thrust drives you higher, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable level, until teetering on the edge.
And then, he sends you over it. The orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, your entire body shuddering with the intensity of it, your voice lost in the cry of pure ecstasy that escapes your lips. Logan follows you a moment later, his own release crashing into him hard, his body trembling against yours as he buries himself deep inside you, his breath hot and ragged against your neck as a loud, deep, groan reverberates in his throat.Â
Neither of you can move, lost in the aftermath of your shared pleasure, your bodies still entwined, as you come down from the high. He tightens his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your temple as he tries to catch his breath. And when he does, he pulls back just enough to look into your eyes.
âYou okay?â he murmurs.Â
You nod, reaching up to cup his face in your hands, your thumbs gently brushing over the rough stubble on his cheeks. âIâm more than okay,â you whisper back, voice full of emotion. âThat was⌠everything.â
A small smile tugs at the corners of Loganâs lips, and he leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead, his arms still wrapped securely around you. âYeah, it was,â he agrees.
Eventually, he eases out of you with a tenderness that makes you sigh softly. He walks out into the washroom, and gets a warm towel, wiping you and himself down. After, he settles beside you on the bed, his arm draped over your waist, holding you close. The two of you stay like that for a long time, wrapped in each otherâs arms, until the exhaustion of the day begins to catch up with you, and you feel your eyes growing heavy.
âGet some rest,â you hear, âWeâve got plenty of time⌠no need to rush.â
You nod sleepily, snuggling closer to him as you let your eyes drift shut, the steady pulse of his heart lulling you into a peaceful sleep.Â
â
You wake to the feeling of warmth and security, Loganâs breathing against your ear, his arm still clinging possessively over your waist. The events of the previous night come rushing back, and a satisfied smile curves your lips as you snuggle closer to him.
But it isnât long before that peaceful contentment becomes something more. As you move around, the feel of his skin against yours, the warmth of his breath on your neck, and the memory of the passion ignites a familiar heat low in your belly
He stirs beside you, his hand tightening around your waist as if sensing your thoughts. Pulling you closer, his nose nuzzles against your neck, his lips brushing over the sensitive skin there.Â
His voice is rough with sleep as he murmurs against your skin, âMorningâŚâ
The simple word, spoken in that deep, gravelly tone, is enough to make you ache for him all over again. You turn in his arms, meeting his gaze, and the look in his eyesâdark and hungryâtells you that he feels the same way.Â
The morning starts in the best way possible, the both of you breathless, spent, and with the knowledge that this isnât a one-time thing. The connection between you is too strong, too consuming to be satisfied with just one night or even one morning. And as the day stretches out before you, the realization hits that this hunger, this need, will follow you both everywhere you go.
Throughout the week, the two of you are completely insatiable for each other. Itâs like the floodgates have opened and have no intention of closing. Every moment youâre together becomes an opportunity.Â
It starts innocently enoughâjust a kiss in the barn when youâre supposed to be checking on the horses. But that kiss quickly spirals and before you know it, Logan has you pressed up against the wooden wall, his lips on your neck, his hands roaming your body. The scent of hay and leather mixes with the heady scent of him as he takes you right there, the barn filled with the sound of your moans and the creak of the old wooden beams.
Or when youâre in the back shed, ostensibly looking for some tools to finish up some chores, the moment the door closes behind you, and you both know thereâs no point in pretending. Loganâs hands are on you before you can even say a word, lifting you onto the workbench with ease as he claims your lips in a searing kiss.Â
At the pond too, the tranquil, secluded spot now holds an entirely different kind of allure to what it had before. One afternoon, you find yourselves there again, the cool water calling your name. But as you strip down to swim, the sight of him watching you is enough to make it seem less inviting than the feel of his hands on your skin. You pull him in with you, the rippling water doing nothing to muffle the sounds of your shared pleasure.
By the end of the week, youâre exhausted but in the best possible way, your body and soul both filled with the kind of satisfaction that comes from truly giving in to what you want, to who you are together. And as the sun sets on the final day of your week alone together, you find yourselves back in Loganâs room, the place where it all began.Â
The bed, once neat and tidy, is now a tangle of sheets and pillows, the evidence of your shared moments of bliss scattered around the room. Logan lies beside you, his hand gently stroking your hair as you rest your head on his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear.
âThis week⌠itâs been more than I ever expected,â he admits quietly, his fingers brushing gently over your skin. âI donât want it to end.â
You lift your head to look at him, your eyes meeting his, and you can see the same emotion reflected thereâthe same desire to hold on to what youâve found together. âIt doesnât have to,â you reply. âWe donât have to go back to the way things were before.â
Loganâs hand tightens around yours, a small, almost imperceptible smile curving his lips. âNo, we donât,â he concurs.Â
â
The morning your grandparents arrive, you and Logan are in the kitchen, finishing up lunch. Your grandmother is the first to step through the door, her face lighting up as she sees the two of you. âWeâre back!â she announces, her voice cheerful as she sets her bag down by the door.
You rise to greet her, giving her a warm hug. âHow was the trip?â
âOh, it was lovely,â she replies, her eyes twinkling as she pulls back to look at you. âThe cottage was just as beautiful as ever. And the Summers send their love.â
Your grandfather enters next, a gleeful smile on his face as he takes in the sight of you and Logan in the kitchen, together. âEverything go smoothly while we were gone?â he asks.
You blush. âYes, everything was fine.â
Then they do that thing theyâve been doing the whole time youâve been with them, where they exchange a glanceâand share a look that speaks volumes. Itâs the kind of look that only comes from years of understanding each other without words, and you can tell they knew exactly what they were doing when they left you and Logan alone for the week.Â
âWell, thatâs good to hear,â your grandmother says with a mischievous smile, her eyes flicking between you two in a way that makes you wonder just how much theyâve guessed.
âSeems like you two managed just fine without us.â Your grandfather says, patting Logan on the shoulder.Â
You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks, and you steal a look at Logan, who meets your eyes with a small smirk. Itâs a way to tell you that heâs just as aware as you are of what your grandparents are thinking. But thereâs no embarrassment on his face, only a quiet confidence, a certainty that whatever happened between you was exactly what was meant to be.
â
The next month flies by, the routine of everything staying largely the same except for one thing. You and Logan are inseparable, drawn to each other like magnets, and with each passing day, it seems like that attraction only grows stronger.Â
Itâs not just the passion that binds you, though that spark is always there, and most often times doesnât go ignored. Itâs the little moments that fill your daysâthe way his hand brushes yours as you walk side by side, the way he rests a gentle hand on the small of your back when youâre working together in the barn, or the way his fingers grip your waist as he helps you mount your horse (even though you donât need it).Â
The work on the farm continues to get done, but thereâs a new layer to everything you doâa sense of shared purpose, of partnership. And even though the days are long and tiring, you find yourself looking forward to each task, knowing that Logan will be there beside you, sharing the load, offering his quiet support and his easy, comforting presence.
As the sun begins to rise one breakfast, you grandfather announces that he needs to run into town to pick up some tools for a repair project. Heâs heading out the door, and as he grabs his keys from the hook, he turns to Logan with a nod.
âLogan, why donât you come along? Could use an extra pair of hands,â he suggests, his tone casual.
Your man agrees without hesitation, always ready to lend a hand. But as he follows your grandfather out the door, he pauses for just a moment, whirling back to look at you, and what you see on his face is insaneâthereâs a deep yearning, a longing that tugs on your heartstrings. Itâs almost as if to say that he wishes he could stay, he doesnât want to be apart from you, even for the short trip into town.Â
You have half a mind to join them.Â
The intensity of that look lingers in the air long after heâs turned away and stepped out the door, and your grandmother doesnât miss a thing. Once the men are in the truck and begin to drive off the property, she turns to you with a teasing smile, one eyebrow raised in amusment.Â
âHeâs really got it bad for you, doesnât he?â she says affectionately. âIâve never seen a man look at a woman the way he looks at you.â
Your heart blooms in your chest. âI guess he does,â you reply, your voice soft, breathless as the weight of your feelings for him wash over you.Â
Your grandmother chuckles, stepping closer to place her hand on your arm âAnd youâve got it bad for him too, Iâd say.â
You laugh. âYeah, I do.â
â
Several weeks later, itâs raining. That should have been the first sign that this day wasnât going to go to plan. Youâre sitting inside, curled up next to Logan on the old chesterfield, his arm wrapped around you as you both enjoy the warmth and quiet of the afternoon.Â
But then you decide to go through some emailsâjust a quick check, nothing more, to clear out any lingering notifications. You unlock your phone and start scrolling through your inbox, Loganâs fingers tracing lazy circles on your shoulder as you do. Most of the emails are routineânewsletters, updates, the usual clutterâbut then you see it, nestled among the others like a tiny, unexpected bombshell.
Itâs an email from the company you applied to months ago, the one you almost forgot about in the blissful haze of farm life. The subject line makes your heart skip a beat: Congratulations! Offer of Employment.
Your breath catches, and you sit up a little straighter, your heart pounding in your chest as you open the email. The words leap off the screen: We are pleased to offer you the position, starting in two months.
You stare at the email, a mixture of shock and elation washing over you. This is itâyour dream job, the opportunity youâve been working toward for years. Itâs everything youâve ever wanted, the kind of position that could set the course for your entire career. But as the initial wave of excitement begins to ebb, a heavy weight settles in your chest, pulling you back down to earth.
You glance over at Logan, whoâs still relaxed beside you. His eyes are closed, his head resting back against the couch. The sight of him, so content, makes your heart ache, because with this job offer comes a harsh reality: accepting it means leaving him, leaving this life youâve built together, at least for a while. And you donât know whenâor even ifâyouâll be back.
Suddenly, his eyes flutter open in response to your shifting, and he looks over at you, concern flickering across his features. âWhatâs wrong?â he asks.
You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. âI⌠I just got an email,â you begin shakily as you turn the screen toward him so he can read it for himself.
He takes the phone from your hand, his eyes scanning the email. You watch his expression carefully, searching for any sign of what heâs feeling. At first, thereâs no reaction, just the steady, focused way he reads the words. Yet as he reaches the end, you see itâthe subtle tightening of his jaw, the pinching together of his eyebrows.Â
He hands the phone back to you wordlessly.
Then, âThis is what youâve been waiting for.â His voice is steady, but thereâs a sadness there too, a heaviness that you canât ignore.
You nod, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes. âYeah⌠it is.â
Thereâs a long stretch of nothing, the sound of the rain outside filling the silence between you. Logan looks away, his gaze fixed on the fire as if trying to find the right words. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, measured. âYou have to take it.â
You swallow hard. âBut what about us? I donât know when Iâll be back⌠or if Iâll even be able to come back.â
Loganâs hand tightens around yours, his grip firm, grounding. âWeâll figure it out,â he says, though you can hear the strain in his voice, the way heâs trying to hold back his own emotions for your sake. âYouâve worked too hard for this to pass it up.â
His words are supportive, encouraging, but you can see the the way heâs starting to close in on himself, as if already bracing himself for your departure. The thought of being apart from him is unbearable.
You lean into his touch, your head resting on his shoulder, and he wraps his arms around you, holding you close. âI donât want to leave you,â you whisper as the tears finally spill over.
He presses a kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there as if trying to convey all the things he canât bring himself to say. âI donât want you to leave either,â he admits. âBut Iâll be here when you get back. However long it takes.â
And so begins the countdown to your departure. You always knew it was going to come, always knew you were going to have to leave your grandparents again, but you didnât expect to find the love of your life here, and that makes it so much harder.
â
The remaining two months become a bittersweet blend of cherished moments and a looming sense of inevitability. Each day feels both precious and fleeting, a constant reminder that your time together is running out, and it shapes every decision, every action, every word between you.Â
In the past, your days had been filled with the rhythm of farm lifeâearly mornings, long hours of work, and evenings spent in each otherâs arms, exhausted but content. But now, thereâs a conscious effort to carve out time just for you two, time thatâs not dictated by chores or routine. You start taking more trips to the pond or into town, something you hadnât quite as often before.Â
These dates are different from the intense, passionate moments youâve shared on the farmâtheyâre softer, more tender, as if youâre both trying to imprint each otherâs presence into your memories. You hold hands as you walk on the streets, your fingers intertwined, and every now and then, Logan will pull you close, pressing a kiss to your temple or your lips, as if he needs to reassure himself that youâre still there with him.
Even the way you make love changes during these months. The hunger and desire that had once defined your physical relationship are still there, of courseâLoganâs touch still ignites a fire in you, and the need for each other still burns as hot as everâbut now, thereâs a new dimension to your intimacy, a slow, sensual depth that hadnât been there before.Â
Your grandparents, upon hearing the news, immediately noticed the change too. While they were so extremely happy for your new job opportunity, they also knew what it meant. Theyâve seen the way you and Logan have grown closer, the way your connection has deepened, and thereâs a quiet sadness in their eyes whenever they see you together.Â
Itâs not a sadness for themselves, but for the both of you.Â
They donât say much, but their understanding is palpable. They seem to give you more grace when it comes to doing work around the farm, trying to volunteer and do as much as they can so you two can spend time alone. No matter how much you refuse, they insist, pushing you two out the door with picnic basket and blankets.Â
Sitting on the porch one evening after a long day, your grandmother comes out to join you. She sits beside you, Loganâs arm is draped around your shoulders, and for a brief second, the three of you just sit in silence, watching the sunset.
âYou know,â your grandmother begins, her voice soft and filled with emotion, âI see the way you two look at each other. It reminds me of your grandfather and me when we were young.â
You smile, leaning into Loganâs side as you listen to her. âYou two have always been such an inspiration,â you say, meaning every word.
She chuckles, a wistful sound. âIt wasnât always easy, you know. There were times when we had to be apart, times when I wasnât sure if weâd make it through. But we did. And looking at you two now⌠I know youâll find a way.â
Logan squeezes your shoulder gently.. âWeâll figure it out,â he says, echoing the promise he made when you first told him about the job.
Your grandmother nods, reaching out to pat your knee. âI believe you will. But just know⌠itâs okay to be sad, to be scared. Thatâs part of loving someone.â
The words resonate with you, and you feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes. âThank you,â you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.
She smiles, a small, sad smile that holds a lifetime of wisdom. âYouâll be alright, my dear. Both of you.â
The days continue to slip by, and as the final weeks approach, your chest constantly feels tight. You try to make yourself feel better by lying in each otherâs arms at night, whispering about the future, about the dreams you have, and the plans youâll make when youâre together again. But still, itâs sad.Â
â
Your last day creeps up on you like a shadow at duskâinevitable, inescapable, and suddenly there, looming over everything. You wake up with a rock on your heart, the realization that this is itâyour final day on the farm, your last full day with Logan before everything changes.
He is still asleep beside you, holding you close, his face peaceful in the early morning quiet. For a moment, you just watch him, memorizing the lines of his face, the way his chest rises and falls with each breath, the way his hair falls across his forehead. You want to remember everything, to carry this image of him with you when you leave.
With a soft sigh, you carefully slip out of his embrace, trying not to wake him. You pad quietly to the window, staring out at the familiar landscape that has become so dear to you. The fields, the barn, the trees swaying gently in the breezeâitâs all so beautiful, so full of memories.
You donât realize youâre crying until you feel the wetness on your cheeks, and you quickly wipe the tears away, not wanting to start the day with sadness. But as you turn back to the bed, you see that Logan is awake, his eyes open and watching you. He doesnât say anything, but the look in his eyes says it allâhe knows what today means, and he feels it just as deeply as you do.
Wordlessly, you crawl back into bed, curling up against him, and you can feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek, grounding you in the moment.
âMorning,â he murmurs.
âMorning,â you whisper back, your voice trembling slightly as you press your face into his chest, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to fall..
You just lie there together, wrapped in each otherâs arms, the weight of the day pressing down on you both. Eventually, Logan pulls back slightly, his hand cupping your face as he looks into your eyes. âLetâs go to the pond,â he says delicately. âJust you and me.â
You nod, unable to find the words to respond. The pond has always been your special place, a sanctuary where youâve shared so many intimate moments, where it feels like it all began, and so itâs only right that would spend your last day there, away from everything else, just the two of you.
You decide to walk to the pond. Loganâs hand is warm and solid in yours, and you hold on to it tightly, physically unable to tear yourself from his touch. And when you reach it, a fresh wave of emotion crashes over you.Â
You and Logan stand at the waterâs edge, just staring out into the pond. Then, you turn to him, your eyes filled with tears, and without hesitation, he pulls you into his arms, holding you close.
The kiss that follows is desperate, full of the need to feel connected, to hold on to each other for as long as you can. Itâs not like the slow, sensual lovemaking of the past weeksâthis is something desperate. Stumbling back toward the soft grass by the waterâs edge, Logan gently lays you down, his hands trembling slightly as he undresses you, tears stinging behind his eyelids. As he moves over you, his body pressing against yours, thereâs only this moment.Â
With his skin against yours, his breath on your neck, your bodies move together. Tears spill from your eyes as you hold him tight, your hands unable to stay still, running over every part of him you can touch, needing to feel him, to anchor yourself. His lips find yours again, and the kiss is deep, full of all the love, all the emotion that neither of you can put into words.Â
Itâs a kiss that says goodbye, that says I love you, that says Iâll wait for you.
After reaching the peak of pleasure, you cling to each other, the tears flowing freely now, a mix of sorrow and love and everything in between.
Logan holds you close, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath ragged, his eyes wet with tears. âI love you,â he whispers, his voice cracking with emotion. âIâll always love you.â
âI love you too,â you choke out. âMore than anything.â
â
Driving away from the farm was probably the hardest thing you've ever had to do in your entire life. Harder than moving away for university, harder than securing your first full-time job, harder than living alone in a city where you knew no one. This was differentâthis was leaving behind a piece of your heart, a part of your soul that you knew would never be whole until you returned.
Your hands grip the steering wheel tightly, your knuckles white as you try to focus on the road ahead, but itâs impossible to shake the image thatâs burned into your mindâthe image of Logan and your grandparents standing on the porch as you drove away. The sight of them, standing there side by side, watching you leave, is something that will haunt you for a long time.Â
Logan, his stoic expression barely masking the pain in his eyes, his hands clenched at his sides as if holding himself back from running after you. Your grandmother, her face a mixture of sadness and pride, eyes glistening with unshed tears. And your grandfather, standing tall and strong, but with a heaviness in his gaze that spoke of understanding, of experience, of knowing just how hard this had to be.
The tears that had been threatening to fall finally break free, streaming down your face as you drive, blurring your vision and making it hard to see the road ahead. You swipe at them angrily, frustrated with yourself for breaking down like this, but itâs no use. The emotions are too strong, too overwhelming, and soon youâre bawling your eyes out, the sound of your own crying filling the car.Â
You can barely catch your breath, each sob wracking your body with a force that leaves you feeling drained, exhausted, and utterly broken.
â
The time apart is worse than you ever imagined it would be. In the beginning, you and Logan make every effort to stay in touch. The calls and texts are your lifeline, little threads that keep you connected to the farm, to him, to the life you left behind.Â
At first, you talk every day. his voice a comfort, a reminder that youâre not alone, that heâs still there, waiting for you. He tells you about his days, about how he still rides the horses every morning, just like he used to when you were there.Â
But as time goes on, the time between each call grows. Your demanding work schedule, and the unreliable service in the countryside, make it harder and harder to find moments when youâre both free to talk. The texts, once long and filled with details about your lives, become shorter, more practical. You try to stay connected, but the distance feels like a growing chasm between you, one that neither of you can quite figure out how to bridge.
Years pass by in a blur. You have no time to spend at the farm, with it being too far away for just a weekend trip, and other commitments seem to always get in the way.Â
Then, one day, the call comesâthe call youâve dreaded but somehow always knew would happen. Itâs your grandmother, her voice trembling as she tells you that your grandfather has passed away.Â
You take leave from work immediately, making arrangements to drive back to the farm and spend a night. The funeral is simple, attended by a few close friends and neighbours, but the absence of your grandfather is felt deeply by everyone.
And heâs there tooâLogan. Heâs standing off to the side, his broad shoulders slightly hunched, his face etched with grief. When your eyes meet, itâs as if no time has passed at all. You walk over to him, and without a word, he pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly as if afraid to let go.Â
The few years apart, the pain of the distance, all of it melts away in that embrace. You bury your face in his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of him that youâve missed so much, and the tears you thought you had run out of begin to fall.Â
âIâm so sorry,â you whisper, everything hitting you at onceâthe loss of your grandfather, the years youâve spent apart, the life you could have had together.
He hugs you tighter, his hand gently stroking your hair. âI miss you,â he murmurs thickly. âEvery damn day, I miss you.â
You spend the rest of the day together, holding each other, talking, catching up, and remembering your grandfather. Logan tells you about the farm, about how heâs kept things going, but you can hear the weariness in his voice, the toll that time and loneliness have taken on him. Itâs clear that the farm hasnât been the same without you, just as your life hasnât been the same without him.
Later that evening, after the guests have left and the house has grown quiet, your grandmother pulls you aside. Her eyes are tired, full of sorrow, but thereâs a calm acceptance in her expression. âIâve made a decision,â she says softly, her voice steady. âIâm going to sell the farm.â
The words hit you like a punch to the gut, but before you can protest, she continues. âNot to just anyone,â she adds quickly. âTo Logan. Heâs been more than just a farmhand, you know that. This place is as much his as it was ours. But⌠I need to move into permanent care. I canât manage on my own anymore.â
You nod, understanding but feeling a deep sadness all the same. The farm has been a part of your life for so long, and the thought of it changing hands, even to Logan, feels like another loss. But thereâs also a sense of relief, knowing that it will be in good hands, that it will stay in the family, in a way.
That night, youâre tangled in Loganâs arms. Leaving him the next morning is just as hard the second time as it was the first.
â
Five years since that fateful summer have passed, and in that time, your life changes in ways you never expected. Youâve built a successful career, made some amazing friends, travelled the world, but the hustle and bustle of city life has taken its toll. The stress, the strain, the dissatisfactionâit begins to weigh on you more and more.Â
So, you make a decision.
You quit your job, find something remote, something that allows you to work from anywhere, as long as you can drive into the city every few weeks to drop off documents. Itâs a drastic change, but itâs one you need. You realize that the life you want, the life youâve been yearning for, isnât in the city.Â
Itâs back at the farm.
As you step out of your car, you see him. Heâs by the paddock, feeding the horses apples, just like he used to. His back is to you at first, but then he turns, and his eyes meet yours, and time stops.Â
Thereâs a lifetime of emotions in that lookâlove, longing, hope. Most of all, thereâs recognition, as if both of you know that this is it, that this is the moment youâve been waiting for all these years.
And when youâre finally standing in front of him again, he reaches out, his hand trembling slightly as he cups your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek the same way it did all those years ago.Â
----
#deadpool and wolverine#logan howlett#logan howlett fic#logan x reader#x men#wolverine#deadpool movie#logan howlett imagine#logan howlett x reader#deadpool 3#hugh jackman#james logan howlett#logan howlett smut#wolverine angst#wolverine smut#wolverine x reader#wolverine x you#james howlett#logan howlett angst#logan howlett x you#logan howlett fanfiction#logan wolverine#the wolverine#marvel#marvel fanfiction
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Cyclaws/Scogan but they bodyswap & then get freaky with itâŚâŚ
#shitpost#bullshit to keep me going âžď¸â¨#X-men#marvel#marvel comics#marvel movies#X-men comics#X-men movies#Marvel James Logan Howlett#marvel scott summers#marvel wolverine#marvel cyclops#marvel scogan#scogan#marvel cyclaws#Marvel laserclaws#Marvel slimjim#Slimjim ship#Cyclaws#Laserclaws#james logan howlett#scott summers#Tw suggestive#body swap#bodyswap#body switch#stupid thoughts at 5:49 everybody lmaohhgg#Hmhmmh Scott yelping in pain after accidentally popping out Loganâs claws & Logan rushing over to sooth them (so that the claws will go-#-back in so slim doesnât hurt themself yep mhm 100% the only reasoning đđ§) do do do#fic ideas
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That's the way gays find their multiversal true love
#wade and logan chose to speedrun the stages of courtship#it probably started accidentally#but when they reached the final stage they were already in love#deadpool and wolverine#deadpool 3#wade wilson#james logan howlett#poolverine#deadclaws#peanutbub#old man yaoi#imagine your otp#otp prompts#writing promt#marvel memes#mcu avengers edits#ryan reynolds#hugh jackman#deadpool x wolverine#mischievous thunder
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god's gonna cut you down
#back to regularly scheduled angst#deadpool and wolverine#deadpool 3#deadpool wolverine#deadpool movie#the wolverine#wolverine#james howlett#logan howlett#james logan howlett#x men wolverine#logan#x men#xmen#marvel#illustration#art#mikart
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thinking about the fact that he was just hiding back there?? the whole time they were driving?? bro was definitely curled up like a cat like >:C
#deadpool and wolverine#wolverine#wolverine x reader#james howlett#logan howlett#deadpool 3#the wolverine#deadpool movie#wade wilson#deadpool x wolverine#dogpool#logan howlett x y/n#james logan howlett#x men#xmen fanfiction#x men movies#marvel x reader#marvel#mcu#marvel cinematic universe#marvel comics#marvel mcu#deadpool#deadclaws#deadpool fanfiction#wade x logan#hugh jackman#deadpool vs wolverine#logan#poolverine
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đ¤đ¤đ¤
#poolverine#origins poolverine#deadpool & wolverine#deadpool and wolverine#deadpool Ă wolverine#deadpool 3#deadpool#wade wilson#origins wade wilson#logan wolverine#logan howlett#logan#james howlett#james logan howlett#x men origins wolverine#x men wolverine#loganpool#deadclaws#x men#marvel#mcu#wolverine
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by tabasu
#deadpool and wolverine#poolverine#deadclaws#marvel#deadpool#wade wilson#deadpool comics#deadpool movie#logan howlett#wolverine#xmen#logan wolverine#james logan howlett#wade x logan#mary puppins
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oh to sleep in the warm embrace of your catboy coded boyfriend
#the universal experience of really needing to get up but not doing it just so u wont disturb your cats nap on your lap#logan never sets his priorities Straight am i right guys ahah#they are BOTH catcoded btw đŤĄ#my art#wolverine#nightcrawler#logurt#logan howlett#james logan howlett#kurt wagner#nightwolves#nightclaws#marvel#xmen#x men fanart#ghostlydoodles#artists on tumblr
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