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goldenstring6123 · 5 months ago

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HIIIYAAAYAYA I LOVE YOUR WRITING SO MUCH AND I LOOK FORWARD TO EVERY SINGLE PIECE YOU RELEASE!!! YOU HAVE ME CHECKING YOUR PAGE 24/7 IM OBSESSEDDD 🫦🫦 ANYWHO ignore my fawning but how do you think the lads boys would react to a suuuuper clingy gf??? idk but if i were mc i would NOT be leaving their side and would literally be glued onto their body like mc is a strong soldier for resisting (especially rafayel my HUSBAND 😩) literally wanna just curl up in their lap and carve myself into their ribcage so they can never escape from me tehe. ALSOOO U DON’T GOTTA RESPOND IF UR BUSY OR UNCOMFY!!!! JUST KNOW I LOVE YOU AND YOUR DELICIOUS WRITING 🫶🫶

Lnds: Sticky little lover

Warning: vaguely suggestive, mentions of hickeys, fem!reader, clingy!reader, reader may or may not be the mc, there might be spelling mistakes, I haven't proofread yet.

Author's note: Awieee thank u sm pookie! I understand the feeling of wanting to latch onto the LIs~

Zayne:

Zayne wakes up with you on his chest, your leg over his crotch, and your arm across his stomach. To him, you were like a weighted stuffed toy and a weighted blanket, all at the same time. He wasn't complaining; maybe it was an excuse to stay in bed for another half an hour.

The bathroom is big enough for the two of you, with two wash basins, a separate shower, and a bathtub. There are three bathrooms in the house, but you always choose the one he uses. He's complained once, but you said you didn't like the interior design of the others. Side by side, you brush your teeth and comb your hair while he shaves and flosses. If you wake up earlier than usual, maybe he'll let you moisturize and exfoliate his face. It's no surprise Zayne leaves the bathroom door open for you. It's just normal for both of you to cross paths in the large bathroom.

When he leaves for work, you never miss a day to kiss his nose and give him a quick peck. You embrace him with two arms, but he hugs you back with one, the other hand holding his bag. You don't mind.

Your message gallery is filled with pictures of your mundane life: a snapshot of a book you're reading, the new coffee you tried, the little teacup Maltese that reminded you of him. Even though he's busy, he always finds time to react, and if he doesn't, he brings up the picture when you pick him up at the end of the day. He never forgets.

Calm days are spent in each other's presence. You always cling to him in one way or another. While he's reading a book, your feet are on his lap, and his fingers unknowingly knead your ankles. While watching a movie, your shoulders touch, and your hands are intertwined. When you react to the film, his hand, still holding yours, follows your movements.

Dates are always fun. It doesn't matter where you go or what you do as long as Zayne's in your company. Cafe dates are cute, but Zayne always calls you out for staring at him with a weird look in your eyes—you were admiring him. Whenever you walk, you cling to him, wrapping yourself around his forearm while playfully weighing him down. He stumbles for a second but smiles.

You love leaving hickeys on him, even bite marks if he allows, but the rule is never above the collar of his shirt. You oblige 97% of the time. The other 3%, you sneak in a light hickey that passes off as a mosquito bite, just peeking through the collar of his dress shirt. Sometimes, there's one behind his ear, barely visible. He never knows, but the doctors and patients at the hospital do.

When you're apart, you always call him and go about your day. At night, you video call and try to stay awake, only to snooze off. Zayne chuckles at your attempts to wash the tiredness away, but sometimes, he falls asleep with you. In the morning, both of your phones end up overheating and out of battery.

Zayne loves your company, to others it may seem trouble some but with you, it was adorable. It's through your clingyness that he experiences feelings he never once did before, and those little things always brighten his day. You actions with him makes him feel more loved and he knows he has a hard time expressing them but with you around, it had become more and more easier.

Rafayel:

They say opposites attract, but you and Rafayel are the universal exception.

Rafayel doesn't like it when you're late. Even for a home-date, he fusses about being left alone too long and feeling abandoned. You laugh at his whining over text and enter his door. When he sees you, he jumps off the couch and pouts, "Finally, it took you long enough."

You're like magnets to each other. Wherever one goes, the other follows. If you're cooking ramen in the kitchen, Rafayel sneaks behind you, hugging your back and sniffing your hair. If he's watering flowers in the greenhouse, you sit nearby and watch a ladybug on a leaf. If he's painting, you're reading on a nearby couch. Rafayel's residence is too big for one person but just enough for two.

Rafayel whines when you do something without him, especially if it's something he wants to do. You once took a flower arrangement class without him, and he sulked, "Wow, you didn't even think to tell me? I wanted to do that with you." Even watching movies is hard because you need to pause and wait for him whenever he leaves the room. One time, you finished a mystery series without him, and he ate the tiramisu you were saving for dessert in revenge.

Matching clothes is a thing. He avoids tacky prints but opts for complementary outfits. Because of this, Rafayel buys clothes with you in mind, often choosing items with a feminine counterpart. His shoe closet and yours are practically the same, and you don't complain because Rafayel has good fashion taste.

You love cute matching items. You once bought a two-piece mug set with a heart design, and he took the other one without you knowing. He also took a keychain from your collection, matching the one you have in your wallet.

"Are you tired of me now?" he asks when you keep your distance, avoiding a hug. It's the middle of summer, and the AC is broken. You reek of sweat, and the last thing you want is to be touched. You sigh and pat his back, "After I take a bath, I'll give you all the hugs you want."

He asks about your plans every morning, almost as a ritual. You've gotten used to replying while getting ready. If both schedules permit, he joins you for grocery runs, laundry, or whatever mundane tasks you have. You make good use of him, letting him carry the bags even if you could do it yourself.

When Rafayel is at an exhibit, you bombard him with texts: jokes, articles, or random thoughts. He replies quickly, hiding from the audience, bored out of his mind. In return, he sends you pictures of his artwork, which you threaten to sell online as digital files. He blocks you for a good five minutes.

You're each other's wallpaper. Surprisingly, Rafayel asked to do it. You spent hours finding the perfect pose and recreating trending ones. Rafayel insisted on multiple retakes.

You were rafayel's missing piece. To him, you were the only thing that he has ever wanted in his life. He loved you dearly and a part of him was terrified that you don't reciprocate the same level of love as he does to you; but lo and behold, fate has given him a blessing after all those years of loneliness. His heart swoons at the very sight of your actions. You were clingy, that was factually true but the same goes for him. Nothing makes him more fulfilled than seeing you both think and love in the same wavelength.

Sylus:

His base has become your home. On days off, you often find yourself in one of three rooms: his bedroom, where you lie on his bed, tapping away on your phone or laptop; his kitchen, where the chef cooks whatever you want in exchange for listening to his stories from his little village; or the lobby, where Luke and Kieran update you on the most boring things in the building. Sylus doesn't mind at all; it's less work for Mephisto, and he can keep an eye on you.

Sylus's sleep schedule is the same as that of those in Linkon City. His days begin in the evenings, often leaving you lying in the big bed alone. Sylus is nearby or at his desk if he's not out on the streets. You like hugging his pillow because it smells like his 3-in-1 shampoo. If he's out on late-night trips, you selfishly steal his shirt from the closet, wear it on the pillow, and hug that to sleep, forcing yourself to be satisfied with what you got.

His lap is your chair. It doesn't matter where he's sitting; you always find yourself on him. Sylus sometimes complains about his thighs going numb, but when you leave, he yanks you back, positioning you between his legs, with your butt on the chair instead of his thigh. He goes back to his work as if nothing happened, occasionally sparing you a kiss on the forehead or rubbing his face against yours. If not, you shower his chest and neck with light pecks before snuggling into the crook of his neck.

His biceps are nice to the touch. On dates to the city, while waiting in line, you squeeze his muscles for entertainment, even through his thick leather jacket. He flexes for a minute before relaxing, amused at how easily you entertain yourself.

The boyfriend shirt phenomenon is common. You don't leave the base wearing his clothes, but you certainly walk around the area in them. Whether a turtleneck, a black blouse, or just a plain shirt, you're always wearing his clothes, even in his company.

You're an eccentric one, thats for sure. Sylus never truly got ahold of how you managed to change from being so distant to practically being glued to him. It was like he partnered up with a whole new different person. He wasn't complaining at all if anything, he found it admirable and a part of him was quietly relieved that time did all the adjusting between you and him. Despite being a bit too fussy at times, he'd be more than willing to compromise if that's what makes you happy.

Xavier:

You always steal his hoodies. They're big, soft, and smell like him, so you have two or three at home. Xavier scratches his head when he notices bare hangers in his closet. When you visit, he finally sees what's missing. No matter how many hoodies and jackets he buys for you, you always get your hands on his, almost becoming a problem. Now, he rotates his jackets, giving them to you on schedule.

Xavier's hair is too soft to be human. When he's on your lap, you massage his scalp and fidget with the ends of his silver hair. If you have hair elastics and a cute clip nearby, he ends up with his hair tied up or braided. He needs your help to take it off because it's too painful for him to do alone. Oops?

You prefer sitting beside him rather than across from him at a table. He didn't understand at first because he wanted to face you when eating. But when he's beside you, he slowly gets it. You like touching him one way or another. You enjoy your elbows touching or your thighs grazing each other. It's also convenient to lean slightly and rest your head on his shoulder.

Xavier loves bathing with you. The bathtub in his apartment is big enough for both. He likes the smell of your bath bombs and is sometimes fascinated by the toys or mini jewelry inside. Your back always presses against him, and he willingly holds you. On more stressful days, you light candles and open some cheap wine to enjoy in rose-covered water.

He's riddled with bite marks, even when not having sex. He's dozing off when you suddenly find his arm or leg appetizing. He jolts awake and tries to shake your grip, but it's too tight. When you've had enough, he stares at your work of art and wipes his saliva-coated limb. You grin, watching him wipe your fluids. Because of the frequency, he rarely lets his consciousness drift away when his bare arms and legs are around you.

When bathing alone, you use his shampoo instead of yours. It's surprising he doesn't use all-in-one shampoo and body wash; he uses baby shampoo. When confronted, he shrugs, saying it does the job, and recalls you like playing with his hair. His perfume and powder are also for babies.

In the eyes of Xavier, you were adorable even if your actions were questionable. You were cute, and he never once thought that your actions were a burden or suffocating. The things you do, the way you speak they were all precious in his eyes and Xavier understands that this was you way of showing your love for him. Because of that, he tolerates you every time you bite him.

Your gallery is full of his pictures. Candid photos you secretly take daily. Your favorite is when his cheeks are full of food, resembling a hamster. You take pictures when he's asleep, using you as a pillow. Sometimes, you're both looking at the camera, making random faces.

Author footnotes: I'm sorry if these were pretty general. I'm not the clingy type so I don't know how these type of people act but I wrote it with the things I observed from films and tiktok lol

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mcrdvcks · 1 month ago

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i love you, in every time ࿐‧₊ 1943 - wounds and whispers

chapter summary: After an attack on the battlefield, Logan wakes up to you as his nurse in Italy during World War 2.

word count: 8.8k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: this one is short, and the ending is a bit abrupt, but i kind of wanted it to be that way- war is unpredictable. also, the ending is a tad bit different from the other endings, you'll see when you read! anyways, next chapter is when things get a little bit more interesting...

warnings/tags: mentions of injuries, fluff, angst, war, character death(s)

series masterlist - chapter 3 → chapter 5

A mere 43 years later and Logan was already in his second war since you died that last time. Part of him almost wished that he could die, maybe then he’d see you and get to hold you forever. But that just wasn’t in the cards for him; not when he had this healing, not when he was already 111 years old.

Logan's mind was swimming in a fog of pain as consciousness crept back in. The last thing he remembered was the deafening blast of gunfire and the sharp, searing pain that tore through his side as he charged forward in the midst of the chaos. War was hell, and he’d been through more than enough of them to know that. But this—this felt different.

His eyes fluttered open, the bright lights overhead blinding him for a moment as he groaned, trying to push himself up. His muscles screamed in protest, his entire body feeling like it had been torn apart and put back together again.

“Easy there, soldier.”

The voice was soft but firm, and it froze him in place. Logan’s heart skipped a beat, recognition flooding through him even though he knew it wasn’t possible. His vision focused, and then he saw you. Standing right over him, your face illuminated by the dim lights of the field hospital.

It was you.

Logan’s breath hitched, his mind spinning. He’d seen you die—he’d held you in his arms not long before everything faded. The memory of that night, the pain in your eyes, the blood pooling beneath you—it was burned into him. He’d lost you again. But now here you were, alive, standing in front of him like nothing had ever happened.

His throat tightened, but he forced himself to speak. “Y/N?” You probably didn’t hear him, given the quiet tone of his voice.

You smiled softly, stepping closer to him, your hands working with practiced care to check his wounds. “You’re lucky, you know,” you said, ignoring the way he looked at you, as if he'd seen a ghost. “The shrapnel didn’t hit anything vital. You’ll live.”

Logan swallowed hard, his eyes never leaving yours. He felt a pull, the same pull he’d felt every time he met you in a different life. But this time, it hurt even more. Because this was the first time he’d seen you since the last time you died, and now, here you were, again, as if the universe had decided to toy with him once more.

“Y/N…” he whispered again, his voice rough with emotion.

You glanced at him, your brows knitting together in confusion. “How do you know my name?”

Logan hesitated, his heart pounding. He couldn’t tell you—not yet. Not about the lives you’d lived before, not about the times he’d watched you die. He had to keep it together. You didn’t remember him, and that was both a blessing and a curse.

He cleared his throat, managing a tight smile. “Lucky guess,” he said, his voice strained, trying to mask the tidal wave of emotion crashing through him.

You gave him a curious look but didn’t press further. “Well, lucky or not, you should be more careful out there,” you said, turning your attention back to bandaging him up. “You’re not invincible, even if you act like it.”

Logan nearly chuckled at that. If only you knew. But instead, he gritted his teeth as you finished patching him up. The pain from the wound was nothing compared to the ache in his chest. He’d spent so many lifetimes with you, always losing you too soon. Always feeling like there wasn’t enough time.

And now, here you were again, standing so close to him, your hands gentle as you worked. He clenched his jaw, his mind racing with memories of you—of your smile, your laugh, the way you’d always found him, no matter the time or place.

But this wasn’t the past. This was 1943, and you didn’t know him. He had to play it cool, keep his distance, even though every instinct in him was screaming to reach out and hold you, to make sure you didn’t slip away again.

“Thanks,” he muttered, trying to keep his voice steady.

You gave him a small nod, satisfied with your work. “Well, you’re still not cleared to leave yet, so you’re not gonna get away from me that easily.” You grabbed a small flashlight from your pocket and leaned in a little closer, shining it into his eyes to check his pupils.

Logan grunted, feeling the warmth of your proximity. It was almost unbearable how familiar you felt, even though you didn’t know him—at least not in this lifetime. His eyes followed your movements, the way you focused on him like he was just another soldier you had to patch up. But to him, you were everything.

“You know,” you started, your voice calm but a little teasing, “you really shouldn’t be throwing yourself into the line of fire like that. Kinda hard for us to patch you up if you don’t have any parts left.”

Logan gave a low chuckle, though his heart wasn’t in it. “I’ll heal,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. His voice was rougher than usual, like the words were struggling to get past the weight of seeing you again, alive and breathing.

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Heal, huh? Well, you’re not invincible, soldier. Trust me, I’ve seen men think they’re untouchable, and they don’t last long in a place like this.”

Logan looked away, trying to focus on anything other than the sound of your voice. He didn’t want to make this harder on himself than it already was. “Guess I’ll just have to be more careful, then.”

You chuckled softly, finishing your check-up and tucking the flashlight back into your pocket. “Yeah, you do that.” There was a hint of amusement in your tone, but you were still clearly all business. “Now,” you looked at a clipboard in your hands, “James, you have a different name you’d like to go by?”

Logan grunted, his gaze fixed on you. The name ‘James’ felt foreign now, like a remnant of a past he didn't quite belong to anymore. His eyes flickered to the clipboard, then back to your face. The memories of every life you'd lived flashed through his mind, each one ending the same way, with you slipping away from him.

“Logan,” he said, his voice a bit rougher than he intended.

You looked up, scribbling something down. “Logan, huh?” You nodded, writing it down. “Suits you better than James… I think.”

Logan gave a small grunt, a mix of acknowledgment and the emotions he was keeping buried. He couldn’t tell you how much it hurt hearing you say his name, knowing you didn’t remember him at all. Every time he heard your voice, it was like a punch to the gut—a reminder that no matter how many times you came back, he was always starting over, and you… you were always slipping away.

“Glad you approve,” Logan muttered, his eyes drifting away from you. He was trying hard not to stare, trying not to let the overwhelming rush of memories take over. You looked the same, almost exactly as you had the last time—before George pulled that damn trigger.

You didn’t seem to notice the tension radiating from him, too focused on the task at hand. “Well, Logan,” you said, setting the clipboard aside. “You’ll need to stay here for observation, at least for the night. Make sure your body’s handling the recovery properly. We’ve seen some soldiers who think they’re fine, and then—” You made a gesture, mimicking someone fainting, a half-smile tugging at your lips.

Logan’s eyes flicked to the floor, suppressing the mix of emotions threatening to boil over. That small smile—the one you always had, no matter how many lives you lived—was painfully familiar. Each time, the same softness, the same warmth. But this time, it cut deeper because he knew how this would end. You’d be gone. Again.

“You’re real good at this, aren’t ya?” Logan said, his voice low, trying to sound casual despite the weight of everything between you two, or at least, everything he carried alone.

You shrugged, your smile widening just a little. “I’ve had a lot of practice lately. War isn’t exactly kind to anyone.” Your eyes softened for a moment, like you were remembering someone, but you shook it off, standing straighter. “But, yeah. It’s what I do.”

Logan’s jaw tightened as he fought the urge to tell you everything, to scream at the universe for pulling you into his life only to tear you away. But he couldn’t. Not this time. He had to play along, had to act like this was the first time he’d ever met you.

He nodded, letting out a deep breath. “Guess we’re both used to it, then. War and all.”

You glanced at him, curiosity flickering in your eyes. “Yeah?” There was a pause as you sat down on the edge of the bed next to him. “You seem… different from the other soldiers I’ve patched up. Seen a lot, huh?”

Logan leaned back slightly, his hand brushing against the place where the ring still rested in his pocket. He hadn’t taken it out in years. “More than you’d believe.”

There was a quiet moment between you, your gaze lingering on him as if trying to figure him out. “Well,” you said, breaking the silence, “let’s hope you don’t add anything else to that list while you’re here.”

Logan couldn’t help the bitter chuckle that escaped his throat. If only you knew what was on that list already. If only he could tell you how many times he’d seen you die, how many times he’d watched your life slip through his fingers. But instead, he just nodded again.

“I’ll try,” he muttered, though the words felt hollow.

As you stood up, preparing to check on the next patient, you paused, glancing back at him. There was something in your eyes, something almost familiar. But then, you smiled again—kind, unaware of the history Logan held with you—and walked away, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Logan exhaled slowly, the ache in his chest growing heavier. He had to stay strong, had to keep his distance. But deep down, he knew he was already caught, already tangled in the same painful cycle.

He slipped his hand into his pocket, fingers brushing against the smooth surface of the engagement ring he’d never had the chance to give you.

Maybe this time, he thought. Maybe this time, you’d survive.

But Logan knew better than to hope.

---

You checked in with one of the doctors when Sandra, your friend and fellow nurse, put a hand on your shoulder and turned you to face her.

“Does he have a nice voice?”

You snorted, shaking your head at Sandra. "A nice voice? That’s what you want to ask?”

Sandra grinned, unbothered by your sarcasm. “Well, I saw the way you were looking at him. Thought maybe he had some mysterious, deep, soldier-thing going on.”

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed a clipboard from the nearby desk. “He’s just a patient, Sandra.”

“Uh-huh, sure.” Sandra leaned in, lowering her voice. “You didn’t exactly hurry out of that room.”

You shot her a look. “I was doing my job.”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, clearly not buying it. “So... does he?”

You sighed, unable to stop a small smile from creeping onto your face. “Yeah, okay. Maybe a little. He’s got that gruff, low thing going on.”

“I knew it!” Sandra nudged your shoulder, her expression smug. “You’re into the mysterious types.”

“Oh, come on,” you muttered, flipping through the papers on your clipboard, though none of it really held your focus. Your mind drifted back to Logan’s face—his eyes, the way he carried himself like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. There was something about him, something that felt... familiar. But you brushed it off. That wasn’t possible.

“I’m not into anyone,” you said quickly, snapping back to reality. “Especially not a guy I’ve known for like five minutes.”

Sandra raised her hands in surrender, smirking. “Alright, alright. I’ll drop it.” But the teasing gleam in her eyes suggested she wasn’t done with the subject.

You gave her a half-hearted glare before heading off to check on another patient. But as much as you tried to focus, your thoughts kept drifting back to Logan. The way his voice had this gravelly edge to it, how it felt like he was holding something back every time he spoke. And then there was the way he looked at you—like he recognized you, like you were someone important.

But that couldn’t be right.

---

You came to check on Logan later that night before you’d head back to your quarters for some rest. The makeshift hospital was quieter now, just a few murmurs from patients in the distance. Your shift had been long, draining, but something about checking on Logan felt... different.

You pushed the door open, stepping into the dimly lit room. Logan was sitting up on the bed, his expression unreadable as he stared at the floor. His posture was tense, like he was carrying the weight of more than just a few injuries.

“How’re you feeling?” you asked softly, keeping your tone professional despite the strange pull you felt toward him.

Logan looked up at you, his eyes locking onto yours for a moment that seemed to stretch longer than it should. “Better. You know, thanks to you.”

You gave a small smile, stepping closer to the bed. “I’m just doing my job.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, his gaze drifting back to the floor. “Still, you’re good at it.”

There was that same heaviness in his voice, like he was holding back more than just gratitude. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but something about him felt... familiar. It was strange, like you knew him somehow, but you brushed the thought away.

“You should get some rest,” you said, checking the bandage on his side. Your fingertips lingered on the spot where the bloody wound had been earlier, but there was nothing—just smooth skin, as if it had never been there at all. Your brow furrowed, lips parting slightly in disbelief. You’d seen the gash when they’d brought him in, deep and ugly, impossible to heal so quickly.

Logan’s muscles tensed under your touch, and when you glanced at him, his expression was guarded, like he was bracing for something.

"That’s... impossible," you murmured, more to yourself than to him. "It was bad earlier. There should at least be... a scar."

Logan shrugged, trying to act indifferent, but the movement was stiff. "Guess I got lucky."

You pulled your hand back slowly, still frowning. “Lucky doesn’t cover it. I’ve never seen anyone heal like that.” You tilted your head, curiosity edging into your voice. “How?”

His jaw tightened. "It happens."

“That’s not much of an answer.” Your arms crossed over your chest, and the edge in your tone softened just a bit. “You’ve got to admit it’s... weird.”

Logan gave you a look, one that made you feel like he was sizing you up, trying to figure out how much he could say. Or maybe how little. "Weird, yeah," he muttered, voice low. "Not much I can do about it, though."

You knew a deflection when you heard one, but you let it go—for now. You weren’t sure why you felt compelled to trust him, but there was something in his eyes, in the way he spoke, that made it impossible not to.

Sitting down on the edge of his bed, you shook your head with a faint smile. "Well, however it happened, you’re lucky I didn’t call the doctors in to see this miracle." You gave him a teasing look. “You’d be their new favorite science project.”

A ghost of a grin tugged at the corner of Logan’s mouth, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Yeah, I’d rather avoid that."

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence. It should have been awkward, but it wasn’t. There was something strangely easy about being near him, like you’d known each other for years. You glanced at his hands—rough, calloused, like they’d seen more battles than you could imagine—and wondered just how much he’d been through.

"Why do I feel like there’s more to you than you’re letting on?" you asked softly.

Logan’s gaze flicked to yours, something unreadable in his expression. "You ever meet someone and feel like you’ve known ’em before?"

His words struck a nerve, sending a chill down your spine. You swallowed, the strange familiarity between you two suddenly harder to ignore. "Yeah... I guess I have."

Logan nodded, his gaze dropping to his hands. He rubbed his thumb against the curve of his knuckle—a nervous habit, maybe. Or just old memories surfacing.

"You should get some rest," you said quietly, almost reluctantly. It felt wrong to leave, like there was more to say, even if you didn’t know what.

"I’m not good at rest," Logan admitted, voice low.

You gave a soft laugh. "No one is these days."

As you stood up, Logan’s hand moved slightly—just enough that the tips of his fingers brushed yours, barely a touch but enough to make your heart skip. You looked down at him, surprised by how natural it felt, like you’d been standing this close to him a thousand times before.

For a moment, it seemed like Logan might say something—something important. His hand hovered near his pocket, where a small, heavy object pressed against the fabric. But then he stopped himself, his jaw clenching as if he’d changed his mind at the last second.

"Goodnight," you whispered, your voice softer than before.

Logan gave you a short nod, but his eyes followed you as you stepped away, like he was memorizing the moment—like it might slip away from him if he looked away for even a second.

---

The next morning, when you went to check on Logan, he was sitting on the edge of his bed, buttoning up his shirt over his white beater.

“Hey—wait.” You stepped in front of Logan, your hands instinctively finding his forearm as he finished buttoning his shirt. “You’re not cleared to leave yet.”

Logan’s eyes flicked to yours, and for a moment, something passed between you—like the echo of a memory, distant but familiar. He gave you a half-smile, the kind that looked more like a grimace, and kept working on the last button.

“Gotta go,” he muttered. “Don’t do well sittin’ still.”

You crossed your arms, not budging. “Doesn’t mean you get to walk out of here half-healed.”

His gaze darkened, jaw clenching as if biting back words. You could tell he didn’t like being told what to do, but there was something more in his expression—something haunted, buried beneath that tough exterior.

“You think I can’t handle it?” he asked, voice low, gravelly.

“It’s not about what you can handle.” Your eyes softened, a hint of frustration slipping through. “It’s about what’s smart. I’ve patched up enough soldiers to know that leavin’ too soon isn’t.”

Logan’s lips twitched, like he might argue, but then he stilled, studying you with a strange intensity. The weight of his stare made your breath hitch for a second, but you refused to back down.

“Stay,” you insisted. “At least for another day. Let the wound close properly.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, like it was more trouble than it was worth to argue with you. “You always this stubborn?”

A smile tugged at your lips. “Yeah. Part of the charm.”

Logan huffed, a reluctant laugh buried somewhere in the sound. He leaned forward slightly, his knees brushing yours where you stood between his legs. The air felt heavier—charged with something neither of you could quite name.

“Y/N...” The way your name left his mouth was different. Familiar, almost reverent, like he was tasting the sound of it after a long time.

Your heart stuttered in your chest. “What?”

Logan’s hand drifted toward his pocket, hesitating just for a beat. He seemed to think better of it and instead leaned back, propping himself on his palms like he was trying to keep his distance.

“Nothing.” His tone was gruff, evasive, but you knew there was more he wasn’t saying.

You stayed where you were, close enough to feel the warmth of him. “You’re not really going to leave, are you?”

Logan’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Shouldn’t stick around too long.”

“Why not?”

He ran a hand through his dark hair, frustrated. “I just shouldn’t.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, like they carried the weight of something unsaid—something important. But before you could push further, Logan shifted on the bed, brushing past you as if putting space between you would make it easier.

“Look...” His voice softened just slightly, almost apologetic. “You shouldn’t worry about me. I’ve been through worse.”

You tilted your head, watching him carefully. “Maybe. But that doesn’t mean you have to go through this alone.”

Logan’s gaze flicked to yours, and for a moment, the walls he kept up seemed to crack, just a little. He looked at you like you were someone he wanted to hold onto, but couldn’t—like you’d slip through his fingers if he let himself get too close.

You leaned in just a bit, your voice barely above a whisper. “Let me help, Logan.”

The way his name fell from your lips sent a flicker of something through him—something dangerous, vulnerable, like it meant too much. His breath hitched, and for a second, you thought he might tell you whatever he was holding back.

But instead, he gave you a tight smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You already have.”

It felt like the conversation was teetering on the edge of something, but neither of you were ready to tip it over just yet.

“You win,” he muttered finally, his tone rough but resigned. “I’ll stay... one more day.”

You grinned, victorious. “Good. I’ll hold you to that. Maybe I’ll even let ya accompany me to the mess tent for lunch.” You held up a finger, playful but firm. “But only if you’re good.”

Logan gave a soft huff, the closest thing to a laugh you’d gotten out of him all day. “You makin’ the rules now?”

“That’s right,” you said with a smirk. “I am the nurse, after all.”

He shook his head, amused despite himself. “Fair enough.”

You lingered a moment longer than necessary, and Logan didn’t move away. His hand twitched near his knee, like he was thinking about reaching for you. It wasn’t the kind of gesture that strangers made—it felt too familiar, too intimate, like muscle memory.

“See ya at lunch, then,” you murmured, trying to shake off the strange pull toward him.

Logan gave a small nod, but his gaze stayed on you as you turned toward the door. Just as you reached it, you glanced back over your shoulder.

“You better not sneak out while I’m gone,” you teased, though part of you wasn’t sure it was really a joke.

Logan’s lips quirked at the corner, but the look in his eyes was heavy, weighed down with something you couldn’t quite place. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

---

By the time lunch rolled around, you were half-expecting Logan to be gone—off on some stubborn mission to leave the hospital before you could stop him. But when you returned, there he was, sitting up on the bed and rolling the sleeves of his shirt to his forearms.

"Kept my end of the bargain," he said, giving you a crooked grin that was more shadow than smile.

“Guess that means you earned lunch.” You gestured toward the door, and Logan pushed himself off the bed with an ease that didn’t match the severity of the injury he'd arrived with. You gave him a skeptical glance but decided to let it slide—for now.

The two of you walked through the makeshift hospital in comfortable silence. You noticed how other soldiers gave him nods or muttered greetings in passing, even though none of them really knew him. Something about Logan just demanded respect—maybe it was the way he carried himself, or the way his eyes seemed to see right through you.

At the mess tent, you grabbed two metal trays, handing one to him. “Hope you’re not picky. The food’s... not exactly five-star.”

Logan smirked. “I’ve had worse.”

You sat together at a small table, away from the loudest group of soldiers. For a moment, it was almost peaceful, like the war outside didn’t exist. Logan picked at his food absently, and you couldn’t help but study him—how his hands moved, how his jaw clenched like he was always bracing for bad news.

“So... you’ve done this before?” you asked, breaking the quiet. “The soldier thing, I mean.”

Logan glanced at you, something flickering in his expression. “Yeah. A few times.”

A few times. The way he said it made it sound like more than just a couple of tours.

“Must’ve been rough,” you murmured, stirring your soup. “I can’t imagine coming back to it over and over.”

Logan’s gaze lingered on you, and for a second, you felt pinned under the weight of it. Like he knew something you didn’t. “You get used to it,” he muttered, but the sadness in his voice told a different story.

There was a beat of silence, and then you leaned forward slightly, your curiosity getting the better of you. “You ever... think about what you’d do, you know, if you weren’t here? If the war wasn’t happening?”

Logan stared at his tray, his jaw tightening like he was biting back something painful. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Once or twice.”

The way he said it made your chest ache, and before you could stop yourself, you asked, “What would you do?”

Logan’s thumb brushed along the edge of his tray—a nervous habit, like he was weighing whether to tell you the truth. “There’s someone,” he said slowly. “Someone I thought about settlin’ down with... a long time ago.”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden vulnerability in his voice. “What happened?”

Logan looked away, his expression hardening like a door slamming shut. “Didn’t work out.”

It wasn’t the whole story—you could tell that much. But you didn’t push. There was something in the way he said it, like the loss was still raw, even if it had happened years ago.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, unsure why you felt the need to say it.

Logan gave a small shrug, like it didn’t matter. But you knew better. It did matter. It mattered a lot.

---

After lunch, the two of you lingered outside the tent, neither of you in a rush to return to the chaos inside. The sun was warm on your face, a rare moment of peace in a world that had been anything but peaceful lately.

“You’re not what I expected,�� you said suddenly, glancing at Logan.

He raised an eyebrow. “What’d you expect?”

You shrugged, smiling. “I don’t know. Maybe someone more... closed off. But you’re not as much of a mystery as you think.”

Logan chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “You’d be surprised.”

You bit your lip, studying him. “You feel... familiar,” you admitted, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “Like we’ve met before.”

Logan went still, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you thought he might brush it off with some sarcastic comment. But instead, he looked at you with that same haunted expression you’d seen earlier—the one that made your chest tighten.

“Maybe we have,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

The words sent a strange chill down your spine. You stared at him, trying to piece together what he meant. But Logan didn’t offer any more answers. He just stood there, watching you like he was waiting for something.

Before you could ask, Sandra’s voice called from the distance, snapping you both out of the moment. “Y/N! Doctor’s looking for you.”

You sighed, giving Logan a small, reluctant smile. “Duty calls.”

Logan nodded, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Yeah. Better get to it.”

You hesitated for just a second longer, something inside you screaming that there was more to this—more to him. But instead, you gave him one last smile before turning away.

---

When Logan was alone again, he pulled the ring from his pocket, turning it over in his fingers. The weight of it was familiar, comforting in a way that only hurt more now.

He’d carried it through battles, through lifetimes, always hoping—maybe this time. But hope had a way of slipping through his fingers, just like you always did.

Logan clenched the ring in his fist, his jaw tightening. He knew better than to hope. He always did. But still... here you were.

For now, at least.

---

The next day you begrudgingly cleared Logan and showed him to where he would be staying before he got called away for another fight. It was a small quarters, shared with some of the other guys, but it was better than the hospital bed.

You should know. Sometimes you’ve taken power naps on those beds—when the hospital got too busy or you needed a break but couldn’t leave. They were uncomfortable as hell, but after long hours, you didn’t have much choice.

Logan tossed his bag on the bunk, eyeing the cramped quarters. It wasn’t much—just a room with a few cots and a flimsy curtain dividing it from the rest of the barracks—but he didn’t seem to care.

“You’ll be all right here,” you said, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorframe.

Logan smirked, glancing at the bed like it was just another obstacle in his way. “I’ve had worse.”

You gave him a sideways glance, shaking your head slightly. “Yeah, I’m starting to see a pattern with you.”

He chuckled, low and gravelly, the sound doing strange things to your heart. His presence was so... solid. Like he’d been through hell and back, yet here he was, standing in front of you like nothing could break him.

“Well, don’t get too comfortable,” you added with a smirk. “There’s always a chance you’ll end up back in the infirmary if you’re not careful.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the wall, his arms crossing over his chest in a way that made the muscles in his forearms flex under his rolled-up sleeves. “You worried about me, nurse?”

“Maybe I am,” you teased, keeping it light even though part of you was serious. “I don’t want to have to stitch you back up.”

He laughed again, softer this time, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than just casual. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll heal.”

The words hung between you, something unspoken settling in. There was always something deeper with Logan, like the surface of his words barely scratched at the things he carried underneath.

Before you could respond, a couple of soldiers passed by, giving Logan nods of acknowledgment as they went. You noticed the way they looked at him, like he was someone who’d earned their respect without even trying.

Logan pushed off the wall, moving past you toward the door. “Thanks for the room,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “But I could use a drink.”

You laughed. “Well, good luck with that. This isn’t exactly the Ritz.”

He stopped just outside the door, turning back to you. His eyes were sharp, but there was something softer underneath. “You wanna join me?”

You paused, surprised by the offer. “Are you askin’ me out, Logan?”

His lips twitched into a half-smile. “Just tryin’ to be friendly.”

You let out a small huff of laughter, shaking your head as you grabbed your cap and followed him. “Fine. But if you’re looking for whiskey, you’re gonna be disappointed.”

The two of you walked in comfortable silence for a while, the sound of your boots crunching on the gravel road filling the air. The base had quieted down a bit as the sun dipped lower, the day easing into a calm that didn’t come often in a warzone.

As you walked, you couldn’t help but sneak a glance at Logan from time to time, trying to figure him out. He was so... different. From anyone you’d met. From any soldier you’d treated. And yet, he felt so familiar.

You found a small spot near one of the mess tents where a few crates had been stacked up like makeshift seats. Logan grabbed a canteen from his jacket, unscrewing the cap before taking a long drink. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“That better be water,” you joked, taking a seat beside him.

Logan handed you the canteen, smirking. “Try it and find out.”

You took a cautious sip, then immediately coughed, the burn of the alcohol catching you off guard. “God—what is this?”

“Something I picked up,” Logan said, eyes gleaming with amusement as you wiped your mouth. “Figured it’d help take the edge off.”

You gave him a playful glare, handing the canteen back. “Next time, a little warning, maybe?”

Logan shrugged, grinning. “Where’s the fun in that?”

You shook your head, smiling despite yourself. “You’re trouble, Logan.”

He chuckled, leaning back against the crate. “Been called worse.”

The two of you sat there in comfortable silence for a few moments, passing the canteen back and forth. The alcohol burned, but it wasn’t the worst thing you’d ever tasted—not by a long shot. And it did what Logan said it would—it took the edge off.

You studied him for a moment, the way he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, even when he was sitting still. “You feel familiar,” you said quietly, your voice almost drowned out by the soft sounds of the base around you. “Like we’ve met before.”

Logan’s expression shifted—just for a second. His jaw tightened, his gaze flickering away from you and toward the horizon. “Maybe we have,” he murmured, his voice so low you almost didn’t catch it.

The words sent a strange, unexplainable shiver down your spine. You opened your mouth to ask him what he meant, but before you could, he stood up, stretching his arms over his head like he was shaking something off.

“C’mon,” he said, his voice lighter now, almost like he was forcing it. “You ready to head back?”

You blinked, still caught in the haze of the moment. But you nodded, standing up and brushing the dirt from your uniform. “Yeah, I guess so.”

The two of you walked back toward the barracks in silence, the air between you feeling heavier now. Something had shifted—something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. But you knew it wasn’t nothing.

When you reached the barracks, Logan stopped at the door, turning to look at you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

“Y/N,” he started, his voice rougher than usual, like he was wrestling with something inside him. “If... if things ever get bad, you find me. Got it?”

You frowned, surprised by the seriousness in his tone. “Logan, what—”

“I’m serious,” he interrupted, his hazel eyes locking onto yours. “You find me. No matter what.”

You swallowed, nodding slowly. “Okay. I will.”

He held your gaze for a second longer, then nodded, like he was satisfied with your answer. “Good.”

Without another word, Logan turned and headed inside, leaving you standing there, the weight of his words settling over you like a heavy blanket.

What did he mean? Why did he look at you like he knew something you didn’t?

You lingered there for a moment before finally heading to your own quarters. But even as you lay in bed that night, staring up at the ceiling, Logan’s words echoed in your mind.

You find me. No matter what.

---

The next few days were a strange mix of routine and tension. Logan stayed around the base, mostly keeping to himself, but you found yourself crossing paths with him more often than you expected. Every time, there was that same intensity in his gaze, like he was watching you, waiting for something.

It wasn’t uncomfortable, exactly. But it did make your chest tighten every time you saw him.

One evening, as the sun began to set, you found yourself wandering toward the edge of the base, needing a moment to clear your head. The war, the patients, the constant pressure—it was all getting to you. And Logan... well, Logan wasn’t making things any easier.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t notice him until he spoke.

“Need some company?”

You jumped slightly, turning to find Logan leaning against a tree, arms crossed over his chest, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

“Jeez, you scared me,” you said, placing a hand over your heart.

“Didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” he said, pushing off the tree and walking over to stand beside you. “You looked like you could use some company.”

You sighed, glancing out at the fading sun. “Yeah, I guess I could.”

Logan didn’t say anything for a moment, just stood there beside you, his presence solid and reassuring. After a few beats of silence, he spoke.

“You doin’ all right?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.

You shrugged, trying to brush it off. “It’s just... a lot sometimes, you know?”

Logan nodded, his eyes never leaving your face. “Yeah. I get it.”

There was something in the way he said it—something that made you believe he really did get it. Like he knew exactly what it felt like to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders.

“Thanks for asking,” you said quietly, your gaze still focused on the horizon.

Logan was quiet for a long moment before he spoke again. “I meant what I said before,” he murmured. “You ever need anything... you come find me.”

You turned to look at him, the seriousness in his voice catching you off guard. “Logan... why are you doin’ this? Why are you looking out for me?”

Logan’s jaw tightened, and for a second, you thought he wasn’t going to answer. But then he spoke, his voice low and rough. “Because... you’re important. More than you know.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Important? How? Why?

Before you could ask, Logan stepped closer, his eyes locked onto yours. “Just promise me,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Promise me you’ll come find me if you need to.”

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. “I promise.”

Logan held your gaze for a moment longer, then nodded, satisfied. Without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, your head spinning with questions.

You’re important. More than you know.

What did that mean? Why did Logan feel so... familiar?

As the sun dipped below the horizon, you stood there, your mind racing. Logan had secrets—secrets you weren’t sure you were ready to uncover. But one thing was clear: whatever was between the two of you, it wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

---

On another day, you spotted Logan on the outskirts of base, sitting against a truck’s wheel with a notebook in hand.

He looked almost peaceful, maybe the most peaceful you’d ever seen him since he got here. Judging by the way he was moving his pencil, you assumed he was drawing something. You hesitated, not wanting to disturb him, but your curiosity got the better of you.

"Didn’t peg you for an artist," you said, walking over and leaning against the truck beside him.

Logan didn’t look up right away, just kept sketching, but there was a small smirk on his lips. "You learn a lot when you’ve got time," he muttered.

You glanced at the notebook, catching glimpses of rough lines and shadows. “What’re you drawing?”

He paused, almost like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to show you, then turned the notebook just enough for you to see. It was a sketch of the base—a surprisingly detailed one, with the buildings and surrounding trees, even some of the soldiers milling about.

“Not bad,” you said, genuinely impressed. “Didn’t know you had this in you.”

Logan shrugged, as if it was no big deal. “Like I said, a lot of time.” He looked at you then, and for a brief moment, there was something more behind his eyes, something deeper. “Keeps me grounded.”

You studied him, wondering what that really meant. Logan had always been a bit of a mystery, but there were moments—like now—where it felt like there was so much more to him than he let on.

“You ever thought about doing something with it? You know, beyond just sketches?” you asked, half teasing, half curious.

Logan let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “I’m not the ‘show-off my art’ type. It’s just... for me.” He glanced back at the drawing, his expression softening in a way you didn’t often see. “Helps me forget.”

You nodded, feeling a tug at your chest. “Forget what?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. Then he said, “Everything.”

The weight in his voice told you there was more to that statement—more than you could guess. You’d learned over the past few days that Logan was carrying his own kind of burden, just like you were. And yet, somehow, it felt like his was so much heavier.

“Must be a lot to forget,” you said softly.

Logan’s gaze flicked up to meet yours, and for a second, you thought he might actually open up. But instead, he just gave a noncommittal grunt and went back to his sketching.

You watched him for a while, feeling the comfortable silence settle between you. It was odd, but Logan’s presence had become... something you looked forward to. Even with all the unspoken tension, being around him made things feel a little less overwhelming.

“I never thanked you,” you said after a while, breaking the quiet. “For, you know... looking out for me.”

Logan’s pencil paused again, and he glanced up. “You don’t have to thank me.”

“I do,” you insisted, your eyes meeting his. “You didn’t have to. But you did.”

Logan shifted, looking slightly uncomfortable with the gratitude, but his eyes softened. “I told you. You’re important.”

That word again—important. You wanted to ask him why, wanted to press him on what he really meant by that, but something in his expression told you he wasn’t ready to answer. Not yet.

“Just… stay outta trouble,” Logan said, his voice dropping into something rougher, more serious. “I’d rather not have to pull you out of any more messes.”

You smiled, trying to keep things light. “I’ll do my best. But, you know, being a nurse in the middle of a war, trouble kinda finds me.”

Logan let out a soft huff of a laugh, though there wasn’t much humor in it. “Yeah, I guess it does.”

The sky was growing darker now, the last traces of sunlight fading. You knew you should probably head back to the barracks soon, but something kept you rooted to the spot, standing beside him. The air between you felt charged, like there was something unspoken hanging there, waiting to be acknowledged.

“Logan,” you began, your voice quiet but steady. “Why does it feel like you’ve been watching me? Not just looking out for me, but... like you’ve known me.”

Logan’s jaw tightened. His eyes shifted, as if he was deciding whether to answer that. You could feel your heart thudding in your chest, waiting for his response.

“I haven’t,” he said finally, though his voice lacked conviction. “Not in the way you’re thinking.”

The way he said it made you frown. “What does that mean?”

Logan’s gaze held yours, intense and searching. There was a flicker of something there—regret? Pain? Before you could figure it out, he looked away, his fingers tightening around the edges of the notebook.

“It means… I don’t want you to get hurt,” he said, his voice low, almost a growl. “Not again.”

Again. There it was—a crack in the wall he’d built around himself. But before you could push him on it, Logan stood abruptly, tucking the notebook under his arm.

“You should get some rest,” he muttered, not meeting your eyes. “Long day tomorrow.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden shift. “Logan—”

But he was already walking away, his back stiff and his pace quick. You watched him go, your mind spinning with more questions than answers. Something was going on with Logan—something bigger than you’d realized.

And you had a feeling you weren’t going to let it go until you found out the truth.

---

The next morning you found out that Logan had already gone on some mission to Sicily. You weren’t sure why you felt sad, maybe a bit betrayed that he left without saying goodbye, but you did.

You had only known him for a few days, but somehow it seemed longer.

You couldn’t just stand around and dwell on Logan leaving without a goodbye. There was work to do. You made your way to the medical tent where a doctor had been prepping for a surgery. As you stepped inside, the familiar scent of antiseptic hit your nose, grounding you in the moment.

"Y/N, glad you’re here. We’ve got a soldier with a bullet wound to the abdomen," the doctor said, his tone brisk. "I need your hands steady and sharp today."

You nodded, pushing thoughts of Logan to the back of your mind. "Got it, Doctor."

The surgery went on for hours, the steady rhythm of your breathing matching the precise movements of your hands as you assisted. It was intense, but you had no time to be distracted. Life and death were real here, and your job was to fight for life.

When the surgery was finally over, the soldier stabilized, you stepped outside the tent to catch your breath. The sky was still overcast, and the damp air felt heavy. You leaned against a wooden post, your hands shaking slightly from the adrenaline.

Logan was gone, but the memory of him lingered. You couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d left something unsaid. There had been too many moments—too many heavy, unspoken words between you. You tried to brush it off. It had only been a few days since you’d met him, after all. But somehow, it felt like more.

"Y/N."

You looked up to see one of the other nurses approaching. "Yeah?"

"You’ve been requested to assist with another unit. They’re setting up a temporary hospital closer to the front lines. It’ll be rough, but they need experienced hands."

You hesitated. The front lines meant more danger, more chaos. But the soldier in you—the part that was here to help, to make a difference—knew you couldn’t say no.

"When do I leave?" you asked, straightening up.

"Tomorrow morning, first light."

You nodded, giving a small smile. "Thanks for the heads-up."

That night, you tried to sleep, but your mind kept wandering back to Logan. To his last words before he’d left—"I don’t want you to get hurt. Not again." What had he meant by ‘again’? It kept echoing in your mind, nagging at you.

---

The next morning came quickly, and before you knew it, you were being packed into a truck heading closer to the front lines. The landscape passed by in a blur, and the closer you got to the new camp, the louder the sounds of war became. Shells exploded in the distance, and the ground seemed to vibrate with tension.

You spent the next few days in a haze of blood, bandages, and exhaustion. There was barely any time to think, let alone dwell on Logan. But still, every once in a while, your thoughts drifted to him—wondering where he was, what he was doing. If he was safe.

It was late one night, a few days into your new assignment, when the unexpected happened. The sirens had started to blare, lights flashing around camp. That could only mean one thing- you were under attack. And judging by the loud engines overhead, none of you were going to make it out alive.

---

Logan had gone with other soldiers to Sicily for Operation Husky. He didn’t want to leave you, but part of him thought, hoped, that maybe he was your bad luck charm.

Logan stared at the coastline of Sicily, but his mind was elsewhere. The mission was straightforward—get in, clear the path for the troops, and secure the area. But no matter how focused he tried to stay, thoughts of you kept creeping back in. He wondered if you were safe. He hoped, for your sake, that you weren’t thinking about him as much as he was thinking about you.

It was torture, being away. But deep down, Logan believed it was better this way. Maybe him being around was what doomed you every time. You had died three times before, and each time, he had been there. Maybe this time, distance would keep you safe.

But that didn’t stop him from wanting you. The thought of your smile, your laughter, the way you challenged him—it made him ache with something deeper than just desire. It was like an old wound that never healed, no matter how fast the rest of him did.

One of the soldiers called his name, pulling him from his thoughts. “Logan, you with us, man?”

He grunted in response, nodding toward the others. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“Good,” the guy said. “We’re heading out.”

Logan followed, but his thoughts drifted again, back to you. He had promised himself he wouldn’t get attached this time. But it was too late for that. He’d been attached since 1854, since that first smile, that first laugh.

---

It was a few days before Logan made it back to base, one closer to the frontlines. The mission had gone as planned, but something gnawed at him, an uneasy feeling he couldn’t shake.

As soon as the base came into view, Logan noticed something was off. Smoke still lingered in the air, and there were fewer people around than there should’ve been. His gut twisted. Something had happened while he was gone.

He found one of the soldiers he recognized, grabbing him by the arm. “What happened here?”

The guy’s face darkened. “We were hit. Bombing raid. Caught us off guard. There... there weren’t many survivors.”

Logan’s heart dropped. “Where’s the hospital unit?”

The soldier hesitated, eyes flicking away from Logan’s intense gaze. “It was one of the first targets. No one made it out.”

Logan felt like the ground had dropped from under him. “What do you mean, no one?” His voice was a low growl, almost dangerous.

The soldier shook his head. “I’m sorry, man. They didn’t stand a chance.”

Logan’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. The world around him blurred as the words sank in. You were gone. Again.

Without saying another word, Logan turned and walked toward what was left of the hospital tent. He had to see it for himself, even though part of him knew it was true. There was nothing left but rubble and debris.

His chest tightened, the weight of it crushing. You were gone. And he hadn’t been there to stop it. Again.

Logan stood there for what felt like hours, staring at the wreckage. He felt that familiar, burning anger rising inside him, but it was mixed with something else this time—grief. Deep, raw grief. He wanted to scream, to punch something, anything, but all he could do was stand there, numb.

He reached into his pocket, fingers brushing against the small velvet box he always carried with him. The engagement ring. The one he had never used.

It had been almost ninety years since he bought it. And still, he carried it, hoping one day he might finally be able to give it to you. But every time, every life, you slipped through his fingers.

Logan swallowed hard, his throat tight. He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. How many more times he could lose you.

“Dammit,” he muttered under his breath, his voice rough with emotion.

He had thought putting distance between you two would protect you. But it didn’t matter. You were gone, just like the other times.

And now, once again, he was left with nothing but memories and that damned ring.

in this chapter logan is 111 years old and reader is around 24-27 years old.

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #james howlett x reader #james howlett x you #logan howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett fic #i love you in every time

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pearlzier · 3 months ago

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────⠀ ⠀AT THE FAIRGROUND w/ SOLDIER BOY.

NOTES .ᐣ idea came from the loveliest @sl33pylilbunny :3 this is SO cute i love it so much ohmygosh. used a jellycat cause i love em n want one really bad.

"i'll win y'every single thing in this damn place if it'll get you to stop whinin' 'bout it," ben grumbles as he stares down the plush toy stuck within its glass enclosure. it's taunting him, taunting you. those beady black eyes.. it knows exactly what it's doing. and ben'll be damned if he loses to a fucking teddy bear with a pumpkin for a body. he'd beat countless of threats before—a teddy bear was nothing. and besides, you'd been giving the thing the softest, most adoring googly eyes from the moment you'd seen it. which was approximately.. almost an hour ago.

the staring was fine, sure, but the moment you started begging him to win it for you, for a good ten minutes? yeah, he has to get it over and done with, he realised. after the fifth, "ben, please, it's half teddy bear half pumpkin," he'd been practically sprinting across the fairground to make it to the infamous claw machine holding your future plush toy hostage. that toy would be yours, he'd make sure of it. it has to be.

he also wanted to prove the stories wrong, the ones saying that the claw machine was 'unbeatable' or that it took only luck to win it. he's soldier boy, for fuck's sake. "which one you want again, sweetheart?" he sighed, scratching the back of his neck momentarily. ben knew exactly what you wanted but he wanted to see the twinkle in your eyes when you mentioned it.

your brows raise skeptically for a minute when he asks, but a soft smile settles on your lips. "that one right there," you hum, "teddy bear, pumpkin body, it's literally perfect, oh my god," ben just watches you for a minute, a scoff escaping him. though the corners of his lips flit up at the sight of you and he sighs, "yeah, yeah, i got it. just watch 'n' learn." he gestured for you to step back a little bit, so he could work his magic.

honestly? anyone else looking on would've been so confused to see a guy like ben winning a stuffed toy. or at a fairground in the first place. he'd been totally reluctant, actually—it's not exactly his kind of fun but it is yours. he was wrapped around your finger wholeheartedly, he'd do every damn thing you asked him to. even if he wouldn't admit it, even if it was a little embarrassing for him. so dragging him to the fairground wasn't difficult at all when it came down to it.

and he had to admit, it was pretty cool here. it's halloween themed, with all the trimmings—haunted house, kids in cute costumes, the music. it almost makes him nostalgic, in a way. going on the rides was a lot of fun too, seeing the way you screamed and shriek when the two of you went on the drop tower was so much fucking fun.

"stop being a pussy—! holy fucking shit, this is it, it's over—"

what he didn't want to admit was the way he was also screaming and shrieking everytime the gondola got dropped. despite how he denied it, those photos you'd gotten on the way out completely corroborate your statement and destroyed his. those'd be perfect for your wallet, you knew. and y'know what'd be even better for like, your life, just, in general? that teddy bear.

"people say these things are rigged," ben starts, rubbing his hands together as if that's summoning the power he needs to beat the machine.

you stare at the back of his head for a moment, a skeptical sound escaping you. an interesting take from ben, sure, but everyone knows he has a lot of those. "is that not because they literally are rigged?" your words are amused, and you full on laugh when he pins you with that unamused look of his own. "just saying," your shoulders shrug, a smile playing on your lips at the sight of him.

"gotta have faith, baby," he tells you, deciding not to actually address what you'd said in favour of channeling any and all energy towards winning you the toy. "with all this strength o'mine it's gonna work," ben murmurs, holding onto the joystick like it owes him money. you won't be surprised if it does end up owing him money considering the odds of a claw machine like this one.

if he didn't manage to win the teddy bear, you wouldn't mind all that much. sure, you wanted it, but at the same time, the dedication that ben had to do it for you would've been enough. but also, you knew you wouldn't be leaving that damn machine without a pumpkin teddy bear in your hands. "you see, it's all in the technique."

"technique, huh?" you muse, moving a little closer to stand beside him and watch for a moment, hands moving into the pockets of your jacket. well, his jacket. you'd taken it since it was warm and smelt exactly like his cologne. "yeah, technique," ben nods, completely serious, not an ounce of sarcasm in his tone compared to yours. "told y'to watch 'n' learn, so watch 'n' learn," he cleared his throat, before his brow furrowed in concentration.

your watching and learning soon became watch and learn how to get narrowly close to being banned from a fairground. you're pretty sure the amount of profanities that came out of ben over the past.. probably ten minutes is enough to get the two of you thrown out considering how many children are nearby. might get a record for the most mothers covering their childrens' ears at this rate.

"ben, it's okay, i can just buy one off the websi—"

"you're getting this fucking bear tonight, darlin'," everytime you'd tried to convince him it was okay, that you guys could go get burgers and fries and call it a day, he told you that the two of you wouldn't be moving from there. "almost got it.. almost.." his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, as he inserted another coin into the machine. this time the joystick actually owed him money. and the thirty other times, but that didn't matter now.

you zone out a little bit now, assuming this'd be like the aformentioned thirty other times, where he'd spewed out obscenities, then proceeded to shove another coin into the machine like nothing had happened prior. ben had assured you this was his 'method' and everything was happening according to plan. he'd never exactly been great at planning, but there you were.

"i told you!" that snaps you out of your thoughts, and much to your surprise, when you look up, there's a teddy bear with a pumpkin for a body in ben's hands. he's beaming like an idiot, so proud of himself even if he'd been acting previously like he wasn't even breaking a sweat. he wipes his forehead, some sweat having accumulated from how hard he was working. a little concerning, considering it was a pretty cold day, but.. the dedication.

"oh my god, ben!" you're practically squealing, looking between him and the teddy bear back and forth rapidly before you find yourself wrapping your arms around the two of them. subtly tucking the toy by his armpit, he eases his arms around you in return. a smug smile settles on his lips, his head cocking to the side momentarily to get a full look of you so happy and clinging to his figure.

"just doin' what i gotta do, y'know," ben shrugs, his free hand cradling the back of your head gently. the two of you were completely blocking the claw machine from anyone else, some kid standing there awkwardly since he wanted to use it, but he decided you two were having a bit of a moment so he thought maybe the haunted house was a better choice. "you uh.. really like that thing, huh?"

"like you a lot more, actually," you mumble, grasping at his face and drawing him closer so you can peck your lips to his own. his eyes widen for a minute, and before he gets the chance to melt in more, you pull back. he pouts, glancing around a minute. it made sense, yeah, this is a fairground, but still. can't leave a guy hanging like that. he sighs, "had me workin' real hard there. think the least a guy can get is some good food, right?"

you hummed for a moment in mock thought. as if you were gonna say no and make him win another plush toy. he quite literally would've lost his mind if you'd asked him to. luckily, you nodded, "okay, yeah. burgers?" you offer too, head tilting.

"and fries, can't forget 'em," he murmured, nodding his head in return. before he walked with you to the food stands, he reached for the teddy bear and pushed it into your hands gently. a soft smile played on his lips, "yeah, now we're ready. c'mon, m'fuckin' starvin'."

ִ ֹ ★ @blue-d, @dayzeandhaze, @gibson-g1rl, @stevelacylovebot, @psychicnatural, @funkycoloured, @lovesickgrlsrh0t, @soldierboycunt, @hrtsoldierboy, @beetlejenna, @venusiers, @v3nusasagrl, @imwetforyourmom, @pr3ttyf4wn, @pillwebb, @beridollie, @sincerebabydoll, @angelicjackles, @sweetrelieef, @deansbite, @morganwrites12672, @chevroletdean, @fallbhind ִ ꒱

#𐙚˙ ana writes ⋆.˚#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy fluff #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x y/n #jensen ackles #jensen ackles fluff #the boys #the boys x reader

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mechanisedbrainrot · 1 year ago

Text

MECHANISMS REF IMAGE MASTERPOST

Okay, so I put together refs for each of the mechs as best I can. I tried to avoid anything in a show lighting, but sometimes it can't be helped. Notes will be underneath each section

Whole cast

Ivy is the only character leaning on the wall in the second image, but is roughly as tall as Ashes

Jonny D'Ville

Jonny in earlier shows like TTBT wears a black shirt underneath instead of the white. He occasionally has red or black painted nails and his goggles are either black or bronze. He has a black 7 of diamonds. He often holds a mic - which is a Shure Super 55

Drumbot Brian

He usually has just the flower in his hat, but sometimes it's replaced with RAM or his drumsticks. His goggle has a very small crack at the base. The rings seem to be a bit of a motherboard and screws? The visible heart is something I can only find in one picture, but it's cool

Gunpowder Tim

Sometimes wears jeans instead of dark brown trousers. His eye scars are more geometric than Jonny's, and he has dark eye shadow around the eyes where Jonny uses just eyeliner

Raphaella la Cognizi

The top is three layers: a white/cream shirt, a brown puffy shirt and a a top layer which has a halter neck. Occasionally one or both of the undershirts won't be worn (see HNOC liveshow). Tights can be blue or black. Light up wings from DTTM

The leggings/tights are sometimes black and sometimes deep blue

Ivy Alexandria

A few different outfits, in liveshows they're also wearing some outfits not shown here - but always black and red with a waistcoat of some kind.

Nastya Rasputina

The necklace is a little cat :3

Marius von Raum

Kneepads in DTTM. The cards are a jack and ace of hearts. Necktie either has a white or gold pattern on it, but they don't always wear it. The green jacket has a tailcoat

The Toy Soldier

Hair varies a lot. Sometimes it's worn down, in a ponytail or hidden under the hat. Sometimes nails are painted red or black

Ashes O'Reilly

In live shows they often wear this eyeliner which has thick bars that go behind the ears - but I couldn't find any clear pictures of this. Though their outfits changes, always mostly black with some red in the hair

Dr Carmilla post can be found here

I hope this was in some way helpful to anyone who wants to draw the mechanisms. If you have questions feel free to ask me in the ask box and I will do my best to answer them and provide some photos <3 have a great day

#the mechanisms #mechanisms #mechs #the mechanisms band #jonny d'ville #gunpowder tim #drumbot brian #marius von raum #the toy soldier #ivy alexandria #nastya rasputina #raphaella la cognizi #mechanisms reference #mechanisms art reference

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yawnderu · 1 year ago

Text

Lorelei — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader | Part V

1 2 3 4 5 6

Synopsis: Aware of the way his lifestyle doesn't align with your dream life and unwilling to quit his life as a soldier, Simon breaks things off with you. It isn't until a year later that he sees you again, a tiny carbon copy of him held in your arms.

This chapter can be read as a one-shot without having to read the whole story! :)

"Are you staying for Christmas?" You ask casually, decorating the cookies you baked with Simon's help. Your daughter is sleeping peacefully in her crib, a small Santa Claus onesie on her, preparing her for the celebration even when there's still a few hours left.

"You want me to?" He asks with a raised eyebrow, brown eyes fully focused on decorating the head of one of the cookie figures, steady hand drawing a skull pattern with ease.

"It's her first Christmas, I think she'd like having her father around." I want you around as well. He's lucky you're focused on decorating your cookies, missing the way his face lights up with a proud smile. It's a lot of progress.

''Right. I got you both some presents in the car.'' He washes his hands on the sink, giving his daughter one last look before leaving the house, trying to gather as many of the gifts he bought as possible. ''Some presents'' was clearly an understatement— he has been building a pile of gifts for months, his car full of boxes and bags for both you and your little girl.

''Jesus Christ.'' You wash your hands and go help him as you see him struggling to carry the pile, taking some from him and putting them under the Christmas tree.

''There's more in the car.'' He seems almost sheepish as he confesses, giving him a small pat on the arm as you go outside to help him. You almost laugh as you look inside, the entire backseat full of presents. It's almost ridiculous, yet so charming how much he wants to make both of you happy, knowing how much it the holidays mean to you, especially now that you have a daughter.

''Isn't this... a bit overkill?'' You joke, earning you a playful pat on the ass now that your arms are busy. You miss the kick thrown his way, jogging after him with a smile when he playfully gets on the other side of the couch to avoid you getting revenge.

''I still got one more present coming, but that's for later.'' He walks back to the kitchen once he made sure you weren't going to kill him for patting your ass.

''I swear to God, Simon, if it's another d—'' He interrupts you by smearing frosting on your cheek, shooting you a cheeky smile that gets erased the moment you do it back— smearing way more than you should have all over his cheek.

''Bastard.''

Your baby was up by the time it was midnight, excited to see her mum and dad opening up presents and even joining in, tiny hands clearly struggling with the wrapping paper, yet somehow managing without help.

''Strong girl, like her mum.'' You smile softly at his words, looking at the way your daughter stares curiously at one of her last presents; a cactus activated by sound.

''Say 'hello'.'' Simon says, getting closer to the toy until it activates, dancing around and lighting up. Astrid looks confused as she looks at it, brown eyes looking up at you before looking back at the toy.

''Hello.'' He repeats, a warm smile on his lips when the toy starts dancing again, much to your daughter's confusion. She babbles at it, tiny hands reaching out to touch it once it starts moving and playing back her sounds, giggles escaping her lips as the toy imitates her laugh.

Simon's phone vibrates in his pocket, getting up from the couch before looking down at his phone with twinkling eyes.

''My mate's here, I'll be right back.'' He doesn't wait for you to reply, already out of the house before you can even say anything. Your focus is back to your daughter, happy that she enjoys playing with the toy rather than being scared of it like you've seen in videos online. Brave girl she is, not a single lick of fear in her.

Simon comes back a minute later, holding a big German Shepherd that can definitely walk on its own. You give him a questioning look as he sets it on the floor, holding his collar just in case.

''Absolutely not.'' You try to protest, yet your gaze softens when you see Astrid crawl to the dog.

''Wa-wa!'' She points out, tiny hands reaching up to pet the dog the same way you've taught her, gentle. The dog doesn't react much besides laying down on the floor for your daughter to pet it, making it much easier for her.

''His name's Riley, he's a retired K-9. Look, I'll pay for his food and even for someone to come take care of him when I'm not here, I just... want you to be safe.'' There's hints of pleading on his tone, eyebrows slightly furrowed as he looks at you.

''... I'll take care of him.'' You say with a small sigh, knowing Simon wants nothing else than for both of his girls to be safe, especially when he's deployed.

''We gave him extra training to deal with kids and emergencies. Big geezer's patient and good.'' He keeps trying to sell it as if you didn't say yes already, a small giggle escaping your lips before giving him a reassuring smile.

''We'll keep him, don't worry.'' You crouch down to pet the dog, who is clearly enjoying the attention from your daughter, allowing her to rest on his side while petting his head.

There's a smile on his face as he looks down at his family, hands fumbling with the small box in his pocket.

[PREVIOUS] [NEXT]

taglist: @skulfan1 @survivalshxt @ghostslittlegf @yaebaal @thecubanator2 @juliediets @shescabob @kenz-ee @lothiriel9 @dragonstoneshortcake @lunamoonbby @alfie2401 @perfectus-in-morte @mxtokko @cloufie @killergoddess97 @imaracoon @thepurpleaccount @silas-222 @actuallyhiswife @havoc973 @catkatchuck @preeyansha

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latenightdaydreams · 7 months ago

Note

Could you write something where the reader is König’s enemy, and once koctac wins, Konig takes reader as a prize, fucks her in front of her team making sure they see how good he makes her feel, then takes her back to base where she’ll be his personal and only fleshlight/fuck toy.

"Oh nooo, the big sexy Colonel took me as a sex toy." heeheehee🤭

I Win (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

Part 2, Part 3

>cw: fem/afab, nc, r@p3 spelled out, humiliation

1.0k word count

🥇

König walks you towards a tent with one of his hands on the back of your neck, your hands cuffed behind your back. He walks through the flaps where you see your squad, handcuffed and forced to kneel on the ground while KorTac soldiers surround them with guns aimed at them. König forces your head down on a table, making you see your squad.

“Pathetic.” König spits at your squad. “You thought you could go up against Colonel König? My men?! I’ll show you all what a winner looks like.”

He snaps his fingers and has two of his men come over to you. They grab your arms and spread them apart over the table. You can feel König’s hands pull away at your gear and undo your pants. In an attempt to fight him off, you squirm and kick. A hand comes down and slaps your ass harshly.

“Don’t fucking move or I’ll kill your squad.” He snaps quickly.

With a look of disdain on your face, you stop moving. König pulls your pants down to your ankles, pulling your black cotton panties down with them. His hand comes up and spanks your ass once again. You can feel your face heating up from embarrassment and nervousness of what is coming.

“Everyone, take a good look at your sergeant now.” König points at your squad. “I don’t want to see one person looking away or I’ll fucking shoot you, understood?”

Your squad was quiet, not knowing how to react in this situation until König shouted again, “I said IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?!”

“Yes…” Their broken voices rung out.

“Gut…” König chuckles as he turns his attention back to you. His fingers rub in between your legs, parting your folds before shoving two fingers into your pussy. Your hands balling into fists as it takes everything in you to not try to kick him off of you.

“Nice and tight, just like I thought you would be.” He withdraws his fingers and wipes your wet arousal on his pants before pulling off his belt quickly with one hand, quickly unfastening this olive-green cargo pants.

You can feel the size of him as he slaps his cock on your ass, leaving behind little drops of pre-cum behind on your skin. The look of discomfort and sympathy is written all over your squad’s face as König spits on your ass, rubbing his dick in the spit. He can sense you tensing up, thinking he’s about to fuck your ass.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head, Liebling. I’m saving that for later.” He laughs at the mental strain he’s causing to you.

König lines his cock up with your entrance, looking over your body. The shape of you is perfect. You’re the type of woman he would typically go for outside of these circumstances, so it’s perfect that you just ended up in his hands. Without warning, he shoves his cock into. A loud pleasured groan leaves his lips as his hands grasping your hips shove you back even more on to him. Your knuckles are white from holding a tight fist.

“Keep those eyes open for me, Liebling.” He demands while pulling your head up by your hair, he forces you to look at your squad as he fucks you. Looking ahead you notice your squad and KorTac soldiers growing erections in their pants, you’re disgusted.

Your eyes meet those of your squad, their eyes trying to avert your gaze; but it’s difficult when they have guns pointed at their head. With each thrust a small pleasured whimper leaves your lips. König’s fingers are digging into the supple flesh of your hips so deeply, they will be leaving bruises behind.

“Look at your leader, submit so easily to the stronger man.” He laughs loudly before a hand comes down and spanks your ass. “A woman like this needs to be shown she’s nothing more than a hole to fuck.”

His hand lets go of your hair and wraps around your neck, squeezing until it’s a little hard for you to breathe. Your small whimpers coming out strained as König begins to fuck your cunt faster. He scans the faces of your men to make sure they’re watching.

“Beg for me to cum in you.” König pants as his hips begin to roll into you faster. “Beg to be bred.”

At first you stay silent, not wanting to give in more than what’s happened.

“You know I can rape you and then kill all your team in front of you…one by one…” His voice sounded deep and intimidating as he spoke those words.

“Please cum in me.” You say with a strained voice from being choked.

“More convincing!”

“Please! Cum in me please!”

“There you go, keep begging.” König could feel himself building up to the moment, your horse voice just adding to his arousal.

“Please breed me… please I want your cum.”

A loud moan leaves Königs mouth as he throws his head back. His cock shoved deep inside of your fertile pussy as he cums inside of you. Slowly he pulls out and his men let go of your arms. He lifts you up, placing you on the table on all fours.

“Look at your sergeant, my little cum dumpster.” He spreads your ass to show your pussy to your squad as a little of his seamen drips from your now very stretched hole. “Push.”

You do as he says and push the cum out of your vagina. His thick creamy cum falling on to the table underneath you as your squad sits there and watches you do this.

“I stretched her good, huh?” He says to his men and they laugh with König. You stay on all fours humiliated. Tears threatened to fall from your eyes, but you refuse to cry in front of König.

“Bring them to HQ, I’m taking this one with me.”

“Wait!” You protest. “You said you’d let my men go.”

König began to laugh even more, “I said I wouldn’t kill them, not let them go. What happens to them from here is no longer my concern, only you.”

He walks over to you and lifts you over his shoulder before walking you out of the tent to his truck, he was going to have so much fun with his new toy.

Part 2, Part 3

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vincinnamontoast · 28 days ago

Note

HIII OMG IDK IF UR TAKING REQUESTS (OR IF THIS COUNTS AS ONE??) BUT I CANT WAIT FOR ANY OF YOUR VI FICS 🙏 LIKE OK IM SAT 🪑 YOURE GONNA SLAY!!

sweet consumption ꒰ა♡໒꒱

goddess vi! x fem! reader

SYNOPSIS: honestly not really much of a plot besides vi and reader being in love and obsessed with each other.

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

CONTAINS: smut!, cannibalism as a form of expression, consensual choking, mentions of blood and slight violent actions, religious overtones. p.s I always try to keep clothing and reader’s physical descriptions out of my stories, so readers can resonate with it more. but for this story, reader wears a dress. kind of proofread ? act 3 vi!

AUTHORS NOTE: ^^ omg thank you so much love <3! you’re so sweet, that does mean sm! MINORS/MEN DNI PLS!!

∴.·:*¨¨*:·. ☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♡ .·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.¨*:·.∴

the soft piano traveled throughout the corridors as you sat toying with the edge of your silky, sage dress - eagerly waiting for your presence to be requested. the smooth, dark marble beneath your feet caught your attention. you swore it swirled in little patterns right before your eyes. the walls of her quarters were coated with various meaningful art pieces and the pillars stood tall where beautiful women were chiseled into the top and bottom. her love and respect for women —for her community, was so admirable. before your mind could wander farther, you were interrupted.

“our goddess, violet, requests you.” a fellow angel proclaims as they seep into your view.

'our goddess?' your mind repeats. It was true. she was a goddess of the people and of the angels. she portrayed that in the most genuine way. however, you still couldn't fight the slight nerve to be a bit possessive. you nodded and smiled to the woman dressed in a silky emerald gown, their wings slightly curled around their hips. taking a deep yet staggered breath, you walk down the corridor that lead to violet's chamber. soon enough, you stood before her arched door. It was vast and encased in fuschia and black jewels. gems and crystals in their purest form blended perfectly above, as gold curled around the edges of the large door frame. before you could even bring your fist up to grab at her door chime, it swings open gently. she sensed you.

It was dark in her chambers. your eyes waited to adjust to it as the fireplace was the only source of light. the soft gothic piano contrasted the crackling of the fireplace. this genre of piano soothed vi’s nerves. your eyes averted as slight movement was caught in your peripheral. and then...you are met with her. she stood right before her large windowsill - it portraying a perfect view of the nightlife that was her domain and the beautiful river encompassing it. she was beyond alluring, truly. words could not describe violet's beauty. for she was the prettiest and the strongest goddess there was. the handsomest soldier that would ever fight on the battle field.

her pinkish red hair peppered with streaks of black, like fire and ash, rested over her right side. her blue eyes like stained glass that always outed her every emotion never failed to capture you. her freckles kissed upon her nose and cheeks like a field of wildflowers in april. oh how cute she was when she scrunched her nose when upset or angry. violet was revered in her looks by the other celestial beings, but they doubted her ideals. violet. sweet violet. her heart so gentle but her face stern. she stood for peace—for equality. but she tended to get too passionate in protecting others and standing for what she believed in. the other goddess's teased her about her name. vi for violence. some pretty butch brute with too much power they'd say. she wished they'd respect her name. and how you wished they would know her. violet. sweet violet. vi.

“you're staring again. hmmm and nor did you acknowledge me when you came into my quarters." she pouts, inching closer to your still being. her hips swayed gently as she walked down the little steps, fists at her side. so ready to protect, like she always was. her beauty put you in a trance as your eyes adjust to the glow of her bronzed freckled skin.

"I'm sorry, my love. It's darker in here than usual." the words jumbled out nervously as the luminescence of her eyes consumed you.

she gently drug her fingertips against the apple of your cheeks. "mmm I am in a mood of sorts today. what do you have for me, beautiful?"

your words caught in your throat and your body shivered. angel's were only allowed to see their goddess' once a month to report to them. you were violet's trusted designated angel that gave her updates of information that she needed to rule her domain, so naturally you saw her a bit more often. the lack of her presence made your yearning beyond intense. the only angel and being that vi had ever touched and she made that clear constantly. but why were you so special? you doubt you'd ever ask. to even be breathing the same air as her was a blessing so you never dare question her.

"I brought all angel reports for last month as well as letters from the goddess's. they seem to have important news to share with you." you nodded, too nervous to glance into her eyes. she loved how nervous she made you.

"so obedient, my sweet girl. I will have to get to it all later." she curls her fingers under your chin. "come.”

she steps away from you to sit on her velvet claudette chaise lounge. she gazes at you intently - waiting. her eyes were warning you as she was often impatient. you walk towards her gently on the tip of your toes. you could never seem to get used to her intensity. she just stares at you often. it's a bit creepy, but you know she is just curious and expressive. reading vi through her eyes was easy for you. she was intrigued.

you kneeled before her as her leg peers out from the slit in her grey throw over dress. she nudges it out to you gently as invitation for you to touch her. as they open, it exposes a delicious amount of her skin that you wanted to just devour. slowly, you bring your hands to glide up her leg. her soft skin feels electric and you swear every muscle in your body relaxed after you touched her. closing your eyes, you nudge your cheek into her skin. you locked eyes as you kiss up her leg, lifting yourself to make your pecks to the inside of her thigh. the feeling of her smooth creamy skin was enticing, the smell of her. vanilla, musk, firewood —brown sugar. the way she was lent back, looking down at you with her legs spread wide was so seductive and sensuous. her arm hung over the couch and the other gently grazed your hair as you nipped at her inner thigh. she had stretch marks on her hips and a bit on her inner thigh. you kissed at them gently. the soft chuckle she let out made your ears ring. goodness. she made you weak.

your breathing got heavier as you inched closer between her dress and to her core. your fingers snake through and move it aside. no underwear. looking up at her, she slightly smiles and blushes. "I was waiting for you — I always do." she breathes out like a whisper.

your cheeks turn a fiery shade of pink. you were then blessed with the sight of her beautiful flower. the heat and scent of her core was close to sending you into a frenzy. tufts of pink hair and puffy lips. you were addicted to her. to her taste. your mouth started to salivate. she bit at her lip and opened her legs wide as if inviting you to enjoy her delicacy. your arms curled around her thick thighs as you grip the soft skin. you press your lips to her clit and suckle. like sweet butter, she melts in your mouth. the sweet but salty taste of her made your toes curl. she was glowing. she threw her head back and her hair flowed over the soft velvet couch. gentle wisps of her hair danced over her lips from her desperate panting. she lets out a gentle moan and entangled her fingers writhin your hair. the feeling of her pussy tangled around your tongue was enough to send you into psychosis. you dug your face into her gently as you could not seem to get close enough. curling and twisting your tongue around her, she panted and whimpered little praises.

her moans increasingly got louder. she was always so vocal. and to say you loved it was an understatement. soft as a harp, her moans flowed through your ears like a gentle river. like a song that soothed your soul. shoving your face into her cunt, your mission was to devour. the feeling of her on your tongue — on your finger tips. her moans, her voice. you were made for her, to please her. to give her the love that she deserved as your goddess. she was under appreciated. you are so deep in thought you failed to realize how tight your grip had become on her shaking thighs. she was overstimulated, yelping and arching her back. she attempted to gently move you. pulling away from her gasp, you muster out, “my goddess. please forgive me. I got carried away. I-“

gripping your cheeks softly, she shoved you back on your knees. her face followed yours closely. "oh how i missed you." she growled.

hearts swam in your eyes. drool and her sweet slick coated your lips and the area surrounding. you look dumbed out. her body was a drug. she was your drug. sweet violet. without the hold she had on your face, you'd fall. she licked at your throat as her calloused fingertips drug your dress down your body. she softly grazed her tongue over the edge of her teeth. she gripped your hips and drug her hands all over your body. the need she had for you was insatiable. untamed, disgusting, and full of teeth. she would kill and stain her hands with blood of the innocent for you. and that was a lot to put down as a goddess for her people. but the way she needed you was vile. the yearn she had for you made her sick. sick and rotted with desire. need. you. a mere angel. nothing compared to her. oh but you were.

her lips captured yours quickly. immediately her tongue swallows yours. her lips were succulent like ripe grapes. to kiss vi was to be refreshed, replenished. revived. crawling down to your level, on the floor, she kneeled with you. not once did she slow her pace and stop the movement of her lips on yours. a kiss was the beginning to her cannabilism. she was kneeling with you. someone as gorgeous and high being as her sat on the dirty floor tangled in front of you. your saliva mixing and tainting her own. she didn't care. your differences didn't make her ill. she was a goddess who could love who she pleased, but she could tell this made you uneasy.

"my love. the floor." you pulled away from the kiss, gently cupping her flushed freckled cheeks. her eyes shone such a radiant blue. she was content.

"I am not above sitting on a dirty floor. I've been in worse. and for you — I would lick the filth from your skin with the blade of my tongue." she whispered, licking the shell of your ear. her cool breath sent shivers down your spine and your heart sunk.

both of her hands held your cheeks, as she curled her tongue over your lips. she pecks them gently and then again, glides her tongue over the plump of your lips. your mouth slightly parted with the pressure and need for her mouth on yours. before you could give into her kiss, she pulls away swiftly. nodding her head in the direction of her sleeping quarters. "on the bed."

you sway your naked body away from her, making your way to her giant canopy. sitting on the edge of the bed, you softly grip her black silky sheets. vi sashays towards the edge where you were and pushes you softly into the middle. standing tall, she drops her dress off of her shoulder. all you could do was stare at her awe. her biceps tensed slightly with her breathing. her subtle abs shone in the light covered in minimal sweat. her tits sat perfectly and exposed. her collar bone, sharp and tempting. the scars painted on her body. her pussy on display and so enticing. again. you could happily die between her legs. everything she did had your pussy melting and pulsating. she crawls towards you and kisses up your body slowly. not breaking eye contact once. she drags her canines against your calf and presses gently, making her way up to your lips.

she’s perfectly above you now, stopping at your face. your eyes are captured in hers and you can’t look away. you smacked your lips onto hers and she burst into a giggle as you peck her lips over and over. pulling away, you let her catch her breath and rub your fingers against her face. you press a kiss to her forehead, her nose, the apple of her cheeks, her eyelids, chin, and then her lips again. then you kiss her hands again, and again, and again. she didn’t like her hands. you knew that. but every sliver of her was perfect to you. she presses her forehead to yours as she gnaws at her lip.

"I want to feel you. to let go with you.”

before you can process a single thought, she eagerly parts your legs wide and squats herself above your cunt. you can feel everything. like her soul and her bones were intertwining with yours. her pussy slid against yours. gripping your legs, she quickens her pace. every touch of her hands on your skin sent your body into shivers. you craved her. you wanted vi to use her calisoused fingers to pry your ribs open and lick your heart and your bones. to live inside of you to protect herself. to connect your organs and become one. to be loved by vi was to be consumed by her. you’re snatched back into reality at the loud sounds of the both of your moans blending together like symphony. she gripped at you like she could not live without her claws and bare teeth sunken into your skin. you chant her name like a prayer, her eyes rolling into her head as all she can think about is you. the sound of you. your skin. your flesh. you. she attempted to cage you in so you couldn't move away from her.

"oh baby i know." she groans into your ear as you whimper closer to your release.

the primal desire for you was unquenchable. she can feel you pulsating against her, she knew you were close. so was she. her right hand tangles around your throat as she begins to squeeze. your eyes rolled so far into your head and all circulation began to cut off. and by the goddess's near, this was the most amazing feeling. to die by violet’s hands. the way she is touching you and staring into your soul. it wasn’t pain. it felt like freedom.

"you belong to me, say it. please." her eyes turn soft and tear up. they were like a gentle void, a void of so much emotion. your vision started to turn white and you could only feel her engulfing you. your orgasms overtaking the both of you like wildfire. you could feel the electricity from her fingertips coursing through your veins and your blood. she loosens her grip as you gasp for air. every touch of hers on your body like a cold breeze. the beautiful pit that was her eyes enveloped you. you both stare at each other in a pant.

"we are all yours, vi." you giggle, referring to the angels and her terrain. gently, she collapses on your chest. you graze your fingers against her back, tracing her tattoos.

she hums, "mmm but they are not." she looks up at you, curling your hair between her fingers. "you are. and for you, i am my rawest form. the yearn I have for you is too much. It hurts." she pauses, and takes a deep breath. "I hate when you walk out that door."

her eyes are entangled in yours. the other celestial’s would say that the love between an angel and a goddess was unruly and dangerous. that didn't matter to you. nor did it matter to vi. they don't know what it was like to kneel at her alter. to be loved and wanted by her. they have not heard her gentle giggles and murmurs throughout every kiss. they haven’t seen her wide set grin and the smile lines surrounding her heart shaped lips. nor have they tasted her divine fruit. they haven't gazed into her eyes and seen right through her heart. to be loved by vi was to be consumed by her.

“my love and loyalty has always lied with you, my sweet violet.” and into her lips, you collide. underneath the fiery touch of vi’s fingertips, you become poetry.

AUTHORS NOTE: ugh yes…cannibalism as symbolism for lesbian love and obsession again>>> of course, it’s literally my favorite and if you get it, you get it :3 anyways, caitvi scene made me scream as hell. everything made me scream and cry omfg. so many thoughts. If you’re reading this, have a great day, night or evening! mwuahhh <33 hope you liked !

#vi arcane #arcane vi #arcane #vi x fem reader #vi x reader #vi smut #vi x you #arcane season 2 #vi x reader smut #caitvi

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 3 months ago

Text

Chapter 10: Brother Dearest

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you neve expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you're around him the more you hate him, but you can't help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team. (I'm real bad at summaries, please forgive me!) Soldier Boy calls the reader "Petals."

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers (Not in this chapter), Only One Bed (This chapter), Slow Burn, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Soft Ben/ Soldier Boy, Protective Ben/Soldier Boy

Word Count: 9.7K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), Manipulation, Gaslighting, Swearing, Mentions of Sex, Sexual Innuendo, Sexual Tension, Shouting, Anger, Talks About Weed, Super Manipulative Trash Man Being Introduced, Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

A/N: Back to our regularly scheduled angst...

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Spotify Playlist 🪴

It feels like you've only had thirty minutes of sleep when your body jerks upwards out of your bed to the sound of crashing and the shattering of pottery, followed by someone who doesn't sound like Ben shout "What the fuck?"

It had been a few days since you faced the supe with the ability to liquidize his form and after about five showers that included you scrubbing the skin of your body raw with both a luffa and a sugar scrub and gargling with Listerine until it felt like all your taste buds were burned off, you felt that you had rid yourself of the oppressive smell and taste of the supe.

Ben and you seemed to be falling in to a familiar pattern, he walked with you to work before going off to see what Butcher had planned for him and if he could Ben would always show up at the end of your shift to walk you home. Though each time he was less than friendly to Jake, who was still trying his upmost to get Ben to talk to him rather than Ben's usual half-grunts, shrugging shoulders, and death glares.

It wasn't working and you stopped trying to get Ben to be more friendly towards your boss, but it didn't make it any less unusual that Ben kept walking with you to and from work.

When you asked him why he walked with you he said that "You shouldn't be walking alone" which of course prompted the conversation of "I don't need a babysitter" and "I've been walking to the store for two years by myself" and him not listening to anything you said. That last bit was becoming more and more normal for the two of you.

So you rationalized that Ben was trying to be nicer to you because he wanted to try to be sort-of friends and you tried not to think about how it was making you have more feelings for him.

It was difficult not to like Ben when he was acting more friendly. When he actually made an effort to have conversations with you or sat with you quietly while you read or when he was walking with you to and from work and stopping along the way to get you coffee or your favorite tea. It was confusing to you why he was doing that, why someone who was so focused on sex was doing sweet things for you after you told him that you wouldn't sleep with him and was making you have deeper feelings for him.

So like a normal person you threw your frustration into your crocheting. Over the past week you had finished Annie's sweater, made four cat toys for Bean, and were currently working on a long cardigan sweater to send your grandmother who called last week to check in and had told you she needed a new one.

Ben had come with you to the craft store and hated every second of it. Not to mention each time you added a bundle of yarn to the basket you made him hold, he would ask "What the fuck are you going to do with that?" to which you responded "Learn quantum physics." Though Ben had been impressed with the knitting needles, thought that they could be useful enough to use for self defense and had embarrassed you when you turned around and found him trying to mime stabbing someone with them while the other people in the store watched him in horror.

You rolled out of bed and threw open your bedroom door before barreling down the darkly lit hallway and sliding into the living room on your crocheted leaf socks. "What is it?" You shout prepared for attack.

Unfortunately when you slide into the room, you do so with too much enthusiasm and you slip and fall, landing on your back with a loud groan.

That one hurt.

"You alright Petals?" You hear Ben ask from somewhere above you. It's not said in a teasing way, it's said in a growl.

Is he mad at me?

"Yep just testing if gravity is still working. It is, if you were curious." You cough out a laugh as you get up and realize that Ben isn't on the couch, he's standing in the middle of your kitchen holding someone by the lapels of his black oversized army jacket against your refrigerator.

Oh that's why he's mad.

The man is rail-thin, dressed completely in black, with hair so blond you sometimes thought it was white, buzzed over his head, and although you can't see his face you know that he'll have a set of dark blue eyes that sometimes turn black when he's angry and a pair of dark hoops curving over his right eyebrow. Ben is holding him up so high that the man's feet aren't touching the ground.

You hadn't seen your brother Darren in at least a year, not since he dropped by to crash on your couch to tell you that his buddy Roach, yes that is what he called him, was opening a restaurant and asked Darren to be his business partner. He had walked you through the technical lingo and acted enthusiastic about the prospects, told you that it was his dream to open a restaurant, but he was having a problem coming up with his half of the cash. Darren had asked you for a small loan and you'd scrambled to get it together for him.

But after about three months Darren called to tell you that it fell through and that he was onwards and upwards trying to "make his way in the world" which by now you knew was Darren speak for "could you please send me a little more money to get on my feet." Your grandmother had stopped giving him money ages ago, but you couldn't, he was family, your only brother and you loved him.

"Darren?" You say hesitantly.

"Hey sis!" Darren smiles when you turn on the light in the kitchen, looking too happy for someone being smooshed against a raspberry and blackberry covered refrigerator.

"You know this guy?" Ben glances at you over his shoulder. He's not wearing a shirt again and you're trying very hard not to focus on how good he looks without one. The muscles on his back are flexed from the exertion of holding your brother up against the refrigerator and Ben isn't breaking a sweat.

Lifting a person probably feels like lifting up Bean to him.

"Yeah he's my brother." You take a step forward and hear something crunch beneath your foot. Your gaze drops to the floor and you understand exactly what the loud crashing noise was.

The strawberry plant that usually sits on the small kitchen table that you shoved under the window is on the ground. Shards of painted pottery litter your floor in every direction, the strawberry plant smooshed under a boot print that matches up with Darren's infamous buckled motorcycle boots. The same ones he'd had since high school that he'd tell anyone who listened he won in the same bar fight that he got the thin scar on his chin from, when in reality he got them at a thrift store down the street from your grandmother's house and the scar from when he tripped and hit his chin on the toilet when he was fifteen and trying to learn how to shave.

Must have come in the window from the fire escape.

Most of the window had been blocked by a tangerine and lemon tree that you had encouraged to grow, but now the tree was pushed to the side off kilter and the window was open letting in the warm summer breeze.

You didn't understand why Darren did that when he still had the key that you made him when you moved in.

Ben drops Darren unceremoniously onto the hardwood floor, who lands with a loud "clunk” from his boots, but your brother doesn’t look upset. He rubs his hand over the top of his head as if adjusting his buzzed hair with a sheepish smile while Ben steps back onto one of the pieces of pot on your hardwood floor, but doesn't wince.

Darren notices your gaze on the smooshed strawberry plant and the shattered remains of the pot it was in. "Ooo, sorry sissy." He frowns. "But I'm sure you can fix it can't you? That is what you do." Darren emphasizes it by waving his hand around you apartment at the numerous plants covering your walls.

You crouch down and pick up the remnants of the plant gingerly, cradling it to your chest. "Um, yeah." You force a smile, trying not to think about how important the pot was to you. It was the last thing you had of your grandfather, before he passed. It had been one of your favorite memories, sitting out on the back porch in the middle of a thunderstorm painting flowers and dots and zigzags on the terracotta pot that housed the strawberry plant that you grew on the tray of your high chair the day your powers developed.

Darren knew how much the pot meant to me. He had one too before he used it for air-rifle practice.

You put the plant on your kitchen table, before taking the broom from the hook on the wall. "Why didn't you just use the door?" You tried to say it in an upbeat way, but it fell flat.

"I was excited to see my favorite sister." Darren grins pulling you into a hug.

He smells like he always does, a bit like cigarette smoke, beer, and the stale smell of weed. But when he pulls back and sees that you're still frowning, his own mouth begins to descend into an exaggerated pout. "Did you not want me to come by?"

"Of course I did." You say, but you weren't sure. "I just thought you would call first or use the key that I got you not come through the window."

“Oh stop being so dramatic.” He pats you on the head. “I’m here now so what’s going on? You got a boyfriend-“ He gestures to Ben. “Who is also a supe?”

“Ben is my roommate.” You emphasize the word roommate before Ben can say boyfriend. That was the last thing you wanted him to say in front of Darren. You'd never hear the end of it You begin to sweep up the pieces, trying to fight the urge to cry over the shattered remains. You knew that crying in front of Darren would only make him tease you about being "too sensitive" so you kept it down and figure that you can cry about it later.

"Uh huh." Darren eyes him. "So he's got super strength?"

"Why do you care?" Ben grouches, crossing his arms over his chest, but he doesn't look away from where you're sweeping up the pieces.

Darren shrugs and holds up his hands in mock surrender. "Touchy Touchy. Just making conversation dude. I mean, you're living with my sister." He breezes, but you notice Darren stand up a little straighter when he talks to Ben and you wonder if he was embarrassed by how easily Ben was able to man-handle him.

Ben opens his mouth, but you interrupt whatever he was about to say. "Darren what are you doing here?"

He brightens with the question. "Oh it's so exciting! My friend is starting up a business and-"

"You need money?" You interrupt, trying not to think about how much you could spare from the already measly sum in your bank account to help him. This month hadn't been the best and after rent and utilities you probably could only spare 70 dollars or so, but even that seemed to be pushing it.

"No nothing like that." Darren waves a hand. "I just needed a place to crash because I'm going to go meet him tomorrow."

"Oh-"

"And he wants to meet you."

"Huh?" You look up from the small pile of shards at him. "Why?"

"He said that he wanted to meet the sister who I'm always talking about." Darren shrugs, before pulling a blunt from where it is behind his left ear, and lighting it.

He talks about me to his friends?

"Uh-huh. I think that I've met enough of your friends." You reply continuing to sweep more pieces into the pile.

You were using the word "friends" hesitantly because Darren seemed to go through them so often that you didn't think that it was worth it to learn all their names. And also because one time you had run into one of the "friends" Darren made and he had proceeded to chase you down the block shouting words about your brother that were not worth repeating.

"I think you'll like this one." Darren eyes Ben again. "I showed him your picture and he said that you were classic."

You miss Ben stiffen.

"Please stop trying to set me up. I'm fine." You could feel your cheeks heating because you knew that Ben was watching you.

The last time Darren had tried to set you up you found out half way through the date that your date was his weed dealer, whose idea of a romantic first date was to take you to a gentleman's club and then try to see who would be into having a threesome. Needless to say you were underwhelmed and blocked his number. The only good thing that had come of it was the gummy bear edibles you'd nicked from his pocket when he was flirting with one of the dancers and Annie and you had enjoyed the rest of the evening giggling and eating copious amounts of pizza and snacks.

"I don't know, he's better than the last one. Definitely has more money and he's sophisticated." Darren breathes out a cloud of smoke and you wave your hand to dissipate the smog.

"Charles Manson would be better than the last one, Darren."

"Manson had hundreds of followers and was treated like a god. I think you're being too picky." Darren rolls his eyes at you while he takes a hit from the blunt.

"Only you would see Manson as a role model." You grumble under your breath crouching down to sweep the pieces of the pot into the dust pan. "But if you really want to stay here you can take my bed."

A part of you were expecting Darren to protest, to care that you wouldn't have anywhere to sleep, but he doesn't argue with you.

“Great! Thanks.” He takes a few steps towards the hallway, the cloud of smoke following behind him like a dark omen, before he stops and glances back. “You got anything to drink?”

“No. Fresh out.” You lie without looking up. You didn’t want it to mix with whatever the hell that was in his system, because with Darren it was always something.

“I swear it’s like you don’t even think about me.” Darren flashes a wide grin, but the joke kind of hurts.

As he goes you dump the pieces into a plastic grocery bag, hoping deep down that you could glue it back together, but even you know that it's probably a long shot.

Maybe I can make the bigger pieces into something else? File down the sharp edges?

Ben is still standing in your kitchen, his arms crossed, listening to Darren go down the hallway and into your bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

The door opens again and you hear Darren mutter, “Out stupid cat," sending a fuming Bean hissing down the hallway. He trots into the living room indignantly and you stoop down to calm him down, leaning the broom against the kitchen table as you do.

Ben is quiet, but you can feel the room heat up a few degrees for a second almost as if he's angry. “Does he always talk to you that way?” Ben’s voice is low.

“He’s high.” You continue to pet Bean, not looking up. “He’s not usually so-“ You search for the word.

“Fucking rude?”

You stand up with a sigh. “You sound like Annie.”

“Oh so she doesn’t get along with him either? Shocker.”

“Ben.”

He was bristling slightly, annoyed, teetering on angry. “Fine.” He mutters.

You turn your attention to the trampled strawberry plant, gently dragging your fingers over the petals repairing the damage with a wave of your hand as you do, until it looks better than it had a few moments ago, and place it in a plastic black pot temporarily. You were again, trying not to be too upset about the way that Darren entered your apartment, but it was like him to do something like that, like him to break things that you thought were important without a second thought for how you felt.

Your relationship with your brother was hard and sometimes it felt like you were the only one trying, but you didn't want to give up on him. He was the only family that you had besides your grandmother. When your parents died, Darren pulled away, stayed out late drinking and doing whatever drugs he could get his hand on, and had multiple flings with women in the neighborhood that weren't exactly single. Your grandmother had cut him out completely, but you couldn't.

“Are you okay?” Ben asks.

“Yeah, just kind of tired.” You sigh, closing the window that Darren pried open to get into the apartment. When you turn back you realize just how close Ben is standing to you, so close that you can feel the warmth radiating out from his skin and into the air.

His fingertip lightly presses the scrunch between your eyebrows. "You're lying." Ben says it quietly.

"I wish you wouldn't do that."

"Do what?"

"Tell me when I'm lying. It's infuriating."

"Why?"

"Because it's the 21st century and when someone lies because they don't want to talk about how they really feel, it's common courtesy to just say 'ok' and move on!" You snap, grabbing the bag of smashed pottery. You immediately felt bad. You didn't mean to snap at him, but you were upset about Darren showing up unannounced even though you told him each time he came into town to tell you, but he never did, and about him breaking one of the only things in your apartment that had sentimental value to you.

Ben frowns at you for a minute, and you think that he's going to come up with some kind of retort, but instead he says "Okay."

"Thank you."

You watch Ben's gaze drift back into your living room. "You can take the couch.”

It surprises you. You were just going to camp out in the bathtub and will the moss to make a pillow beneath your head. "But where will you sleep?"

“I can sleep on the floor.” He shrugs. "Don't need a bed. And I've slept enough anyway-"

“Ben you’re not going to sleep on the floor because my brother decided to show up in the middle of the night. It’s unfair.”

It was. You didn’t want Ben to curl into a ball on the floor and try to find a comfortable position, not after he'd spent the last forty years in a Russian Lab without a bed and probably without a pillow.

He shouldn't have to suffer because my brother never remembers how much I hate surprises.

“Well I’m sure as hell not going to let you sleep on the floor.” Ben shouts.

"I can sleep in the bathtub. The moss is actually really comfortable-"

"In the fucking bathtub? You're kidding right?"

"No. I've done it before-"

"When?" Ben suddenly looks murderous.

"The last time Darren was here I didn't have a couch and-"

"That fucker made you sleep in the bathtub?"

"I mean he didn't volunteer any other options and Darren can't fit in there so-" You try to reason with him, getting confused as to why Ben was suddenly looking down the hallway like he was going to haul Darren out by the lip and make him apologize.

"I'll be fucking damned if you sleep in a fucking bathtub!"

“What is it with you being chivalrous at the most inopportune times?” You stamp your foot in frustration.

You didn’t want to sleep in the bathtub, but you were willing to if it meant that Ben had a soft place to sleep. The moss wasn't all that bad, it was squishy, and the bathroom was kind of cozy in your apartment because of all the plants you had in there.

“Forgive me, but when I grew up it was considered common courtesy to give things like beds to women. And what kind of man would I be if I let you sleep in a mother fucking bathtub?” He shouts back, using the words you had used earlier to yell at him for pointing out your lie.

“Well if you sleep on the floor then I’m going to sleep in the bathtub."

“Fine.” Ben seethes.

“Fine.”

You stand there with your arms crossed and eyes narrowed refusing to back down. Ben mirrors your stance, before he loses it.

“I think it’s fucking ridiculous that no one is going to sleep on the couch. So why don’t you just shut up and sleep on the couch?"

“Because it’s your bed!”

“I bought it for both of us to use!” He snaps back.

You glare at him, tapping your foot, before you glance at the large couch.

Honestly, when it was in the pull out position it was about the size of a full bed, maybe a little bigger, more than enough room for Ben and for you. The thought seemed almost too crazy to consider… almost. Your mouth dips into a nervous frown, anxiety electrifying in your veins.

“I mean it’s-“ You clear your throat. “It’s big enough for both of us.” You say quietly.

Ben looks at you like you’re crazy, body going taunt. “I thought you said you didn’t want me to fuck you.”

“I don’t want to fuck me Ben, but I don’t hate the idea of sleeping with you. I mean I don’t think you’re going to do anything while I’m asleep."

Ben looks angry all over again. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again! I’m not a fucking rapist.”

“No. Ben I mean-" You were waving your hands in front of you nervously trying to find the words. "I’m not saying you’re a rapist. I’m trying to tell you that I trust you and-“

Ben’s expression slackens. “You trust me?” He interrupts you in a whisper, sounding almost as if he can’t believe it, his face twisted into an emotion that you can't recognize.

“Well yeah.” Your cheeks flame bright red. “I mean we’re kinda friends and I trust my friends. I mean, do you think that I would let you live here if I didn’t trust you?"

Ben clears his throat, but doesn't say anything. "Um-" His eyes flick to the couch then back at you. "I don't want you to do anything you're uncomfortable with." He says gruffly.

"It doesn't make me that uncomfortable." You reply, but you're already trying to figure out the mechanics of how you can sleep on the couch with him, without touching him.

"Uh-huh." Ben raises an eyebrow.

"It's okay. I'm going to get my pillow."

"I'll get it."

"But-" You begin to say, but Ben ignores you and stomps down the hallway.

Why does he want to get it?

He doesn't even bother to knock when he goes into your room and you can hear a quiet scuffle, followed by your brother shouting "What's your problem man?" and Ben's retort of "Just shut the fuck up and go to sleep."

Ben is still grumbling something under his breath when he comes back into the living room, but he holds out your pillow for you. "Here."

"Thanks. But what did I say about you going into my room?” You hoped that the joke would ease some of the tension that you were holding in your shoulders.

"I think we threw all that out the window the other night. Don't you think Petals?" Ben smirks.

Right, the other night when he broke down my door and let me squeeze his hand.

"Maybe." You hug your pillow against your chest. "Do you-" You cough to clear your throat. "Do you want the inside or the outside?"

His eyes flick to the front door and then to the hallway. "I'll take the outside."

"Okay." You stand there awkwardly for a minute and even though you were the one who suggested this idea in the first place, you suddenly feel anxious.

I can do this. I can lay next to him and avoid touching him. What if I snore? Or drool? Or say embarrassing things? Oh fuck what if I start to have a dream about him with him literally laying right there.

“Petals, if you don’t want to-“

“I want to. I just need to wrap my head around it and I don’t want you to sleep on the floor.” You take in a deep breath and climb onto the couch, pushing yourself as far as you can into the back cushions. You don't look at him when he gets in behind you, leaving about a good three inches of space between your bodies, the two of you back to back.

It's quiet for a few minutes, but then you feel the couch begin to shake lightly and you realize that Ben is laughing.

"What's so funny?" You turn to look over your shoulder at him.

"I was just thinking that it's about time I got you into my bed Petals."

"Shut up." You snort and turn your body enough to hit him on the shoulder, which makes Ben turn over to face you.

His dark hair hangs long over his forehead, his eyes shining, and his signature smirk pulls at the end of his lips. "Make me."

Fuck. You bite the inside of your cheek, fighting the flush that threatens to rise against your cheeks, when you think about kissing him to shut him up. All that did was remind you of the kiss you shared in the hallway the night he first slept in your apartment which then lead to how close he was to you and that only brought back memories of his beard against your neck outside the party. The flush that finally breaks through is coupled with the immediate blooming of the apple tree at the end of the couch. The delicate flowers fluttering open as if they were winking at the two of you.

Shit, maybe he won't notice that.

Ben glances up at the tree above the two of you confused. "Why'd you do that?"

"Do what?" You ask innocently.

"You made the tree make the fucking flowers."

"No, I didn't." You hit your pillow to rid yourself of an imaginary lump.

"Yes, you did. You also did it the other day when you were reading your book." Ben's eyes roam your face as if he's searching for the answer.

Oh right, when I was reading my book and it started to get a little bit steamy and everything in the room started flowering like it had been a long winter… Honestly it kinda has been a long winter, but I'm not going to think about it right now when he's this close to me. I can't believe he noticed that.

"Does it mean something?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Nope."

Ben smirks his eyes drawn to the center of your forehead where you know the scrunch is giving away your lie. "It does, doesn't it?"

"Nope. Goodnight." You turn over and stare at the back cushions of the couch. Hoping that he’ll just drop it.

He doesn’t.

"It means that you're turned on, doesn't it Petals?" Ben's breath is warm against the back of your neck, making goosebumps trail over your arms and you fight to keep control of the blooming.

"No, it doesn't."

"Do I turn you on?" You can hear the smile in his voice.

"No, and it’s not what it means."

"Uh-huh. So when I do something like this-" Ben reaches out to touch the small of your back and trails his warm large hand over the curve of your right hip.

You clench your teeth together to try to stop the power that rushes out of your body with the contact, but it's too late, the Jasmine that creeps along the brick wall behind the tv explodes, the smell of Jasmine wafting over to the couch where Ben and you are laying.

Ben laughs, shaking the couch beneath you.

"Shut up. It's so embarrassing." You moan into the pillow curling further in on yourself and pulling the crocheted blanket over your head, blushing so deeply that you were sure you looked like a giant raspberry.

“It’s not embarrassing Petals.” Ben chuckles, pulling the blanket down from your head. “It’s kinda cute.”

You glare at him over your shoulder. “I will kill you.”

Ben contemplates what he’s going to say next. "So when you're fucking someone-"

"If you finish that sentence you're not going to wake up." You warn, knowing exactly where he's going with this.

Ben only laughs at you. "Come on Petals, I'm curious. Plus you're so adamant about not sleeping with me that I guess I'll never see when you c-."

"Fine!" You shout turning around to face him again, cheeks beet red. He's still staring at you with that ridiculous smirk that makes your legs weak and sends warmth pooling into the pit of your stomach. "When I have an orgasm, I do make everything bloom. Happy?"

"I mean I'd be happier if you'd let me witness it and if you'd let me fuck you." Ben's hand is touching your waist, his thumb teasing the edge of where your t-shirt meets the top of your sleep shorts.

"Ben, we've talked about this." You say it mostly to remind yourself.

"I know." His smirk dips into a frown and he withdraws his hand from your body.

You chew the inside of your cheek thinking about how hard this is and how much you wished it could be different.

"It's okay." You whisper, because he might not have apologized, but you could see the frustration on his face. "Really, it's fine."

Ben doesn't say anything, only continues to look at you with an unreadable expression, so instead you say "I'll see you in the morning" and you turn over to look at the cushions on the back of the couch, hoping that you're able to fall asleep before he does.

Mike's screech of "I Will Always Love You" is not as loud in the living room as it is in your bedroom, but it's still enough to wake you up. The room is lighter in the morning, the gentle pulse of sunlight filters through the leaves of the plants, but sends a warm glow over your body.

Actually, you were already warm, really warm, warmer than usual.

That's weird why am I-

You inhale sharply when you realize why you're so warm. Your body is pinned into the couch cushions, because Ben is practically laying on top of you. Your back is flush against his chest, his strong arms wrapped around your waist, and his face is pressed into your hair.

This isn't good.

Ben mutters something in his sleep and tightens his grip on your waist, pulling you even further against his chest, and shifting his hips in a way that makes you realize that this is a lot worse than you thought. Because you can feel exactly what makes Ben so cocky begin to get excited.

Fuck, this really isn't good.

"Um Ben?" You whisper, but he doesn't wake up, instead he moans something into your hair, and shifts his hips again in a way that makes your heartbeat stutter in your chest.

Fuck. Really not good.

You knew that Ben was attracted to you, knew that he had wanted to fuck you since the moment he first saw you, so you weren't surprised that this was happening, and there was a part of you that enjoyed this. Laying in bed with him, feeling his warmth transferring to you, having his body relaxed around you as he pulled you deeper and deeper into his chest. The warmth was lovely, you didn't do well in the cold and being with Ben meant that you'd never have to worry about that again. It was moments like this that you wished you never let Ben move in, not because you hated him, but because you liked him too much.

"Ben." You say it louder.

"Hmm?" Ben groans. "If no one is dying then don't wake me up Petals." He murmurs, obviously not understanding what the problem is. You wait another minute, lying beneath him and trying to think about a way to get out of this, when Ben realizes what he's doing.

He raises his head from your hair blinking at where you're staring at him over your shoulder with wide eyes.

"Morning." You whisper.

"Morning." Ben returns, but it's barely audible, just a marvelous deep rumble that you can feel vibrating up through where he's laying on top of you.

Ben doesn't move, his eyes are a soft pine, like fresh sprigs in spring sprouting from the highest branches to stretch towards the early sun. You can't move, you feel frozen beneath his gaze, watching the gentle way the light kisses his bold features, the smooth dip of his bow-like mouth, the rough edge of his strong jaw, and the proud bend of his nose.

His arms loosen from around your waist, but he turns you towards him, so you're pressed chest to chest, without looking away from your face. Your hands are pinned between the two of you, resting against his bare chest right over where his heart beats beneath your fingertips.

Ben's green eyes trace your features, dropping to your lips before raising once more to look you in the eye as if he's asking for your permission. You know what he wants, can see it in the way he watches you, and see it in the way that his head tilts towards yours. Your lips tingle in anticipation, your heart beat loud like the thunder in a summer storm that rattles the windows of your grandmother's home. You can't draw a breath because you know if you do it'll be full of him, until all you can do is breathe him in and sink into his body until there's nothing left of you and everything left of Ben.

You're not sure if it's because you're still a little bit sleepy or if it's because Ben is so warm or if it's because all the hard edges of Ben that you've grown accustomed to have smoothed over and all you see is the version that Ben was only around you. The version who sat with you when you had a nightmare and refused to leave, the version who walked you to work every morning, the version who sat with you while you read your book, and the version who seemed to care more than he was willing to admit. But the longer you lay there with him the bigger the urge is to pull him closer.

Your hands smoothly travel up Ben's chest feeling the strength beneath the palms of your hands before you lock them behind his head, tangling loosely in the dark strands of his hair at the nape of his neck.

The apple tree at the end of the couch begins to shed flowers down on both of you and Ben’s eyes flick up to it for just a second before he smiles. It’s the first time you’ve seen him have a smile like that, one that looked so easy, so genuinely happy and you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t think you wanted to make him smile like that all the time.

Ben leans forward to close the distance between the two of you, his lips warm and inviting, his forehead just barely resting against yours, but before your lips touch, your bedroom door opens and slams into the wall with a loud crashing noise that makes you jolt back away from him, breaking the spell.

"Good morning sis!" Darren crows walking in to the room. "Oh sorry, did I interrupt something between you guys?" He wiggles his eyebrows.

"No." Your voice sounds high and squeaky, because he had. You're not sure what would have happened if he hadn't come in, well, you did. Ben was going to kiss you and you wanted him to.

This is getting too complicated.

Ben only frowns at your brother from his position on the couch. The two of you are sitting up now, side by side as if nothing happened, but you can't shake the memory of the warmth of his body soaking into yours as he curved himself around you, almost as if he wished to protect you even when he was asleep.

Is that why he wanted to sleep on the outside?

"Sure." Darren smirks. "Do you have anything to eat around here? Or do you only have all this shitty fruit?" Darren frowns at the raspberry and blackberry vines, the strawberry plant, the apple tree, and the lemon and tangerine trees.

"Oh." You shake off the insult. "There should be some cereal in the cabinet"

"I hope you got the name brand stuff this time."

Maybe I'd be able to afford the name brand stuff if someone stopped coming around and asking me for money.

"If you don't like anything we have, I'd suggest going to the diner across the street." Ben says tightly emphasizing that he lives here now.

"No thanks bro. I'm kinda short on cash these days." Darren replies finding the Lucky Charms cereal and pouring himself the last bowl without a second thought.

"Oh really?" Ben says standing from the couch to glare at your brother. "And what exactly is it that you do Darren?"

Darren leans back against the counter eating his cereal, but you can see the tight way he's gripping the spoon. "I'm an entrepreneur."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"Ben-" You start to say, unsure as to why Ben was giving your brother a hard time.

"It means that I invest in other opportunities." Darren stabs his cereal with the spoon.

"And if you're so short on cash, how do you do that?" Ben presses.

A dark look passes through Darren's eyes. "What exactly are you getting at?"

"Well you've been here for maybe six hours and the only thing that I've seen you do is break in, take your sister's bed, and insult her." Ben takes a step forward into the living room. "So to me, it kinda looks like you just sit on your ass like a fucking pussy and mooch off of your sister, because you're not man enough to get a real job."

"What the fuck is your problem man?" Darren puts down the bowl. "I don't understand where all this hostility is coming from, but I don't have to explain myself to you. My sister and my relationship is none of your business, and I've been here a lot longer and I'm pretty sure that I'll be here longer than you-"

"Not if I have anything to say about it." Ben growls.

"Whoa wait a second-" You stand up from the couch.

"You have no idea who you're talking to." Darren's voice is low, his eyes leveled on Ben. "You shouldn’t start a fight you can't win."

Ben's lips tilt into a smirk. "Trust me, it's not going to be much of a fight."

"Whoa!" This time you plant yourself between the two of them, one hand resting on Darren's chest. You can feel a deep thrumming buzz coming through the material of his band t-shirt and into your hand and for a moment you're surprised, because your brother wasn't a supe.

Then where is it coming from?

You shake it off. "Let's all just take a nice deep breath."

Ben's eyes are still narrowed at Darren, refusing to back down from a fight, which was like him. And as much as you loved your brother you knew that he tended to have a bad temper, and the last thing you wanted was to clean up the mess when Ben pulled out his spine and reenacted Predator in your small kitchen.

"Ben please." You say it quietly, glancing at where he's towering over the two of you.

You can hear the audible click of his teeth when he unclenches his jaw, his eyes no longer the soft pine they were when you were wrapped in his embrace, but now blaze a dark green. You know that he's about to say something, but Ben's phone rings and continues to ring in the silence, until Ben sighs and turns to pick it up, but he doesn't seem happy about it.

You drop your hand from Darren's chest with a sigh, but happy for the interruption. "Why do you have to be like that?" You ask your brother.

"Me? He started it!" Darren fumes. "Boy, you really know how to pick 'em sis."

"What do you mean? We're not together, we're just friends! And wait, this isn't about him and me. He lives here and if you keep dropping by, you're going to have to be okay with seeing Ben."

"Why can't you just move in with Annie? She's better to look at anyway." Darren rolls his eyes and picks up his bowl of soggy cereal.

Maybe to you. You fight the memory of Ben in the towel still wet from his shower that you witnessed the other day and successfully stop the flush that tries to creep into your cheeks. It's followed again by how wonderful it felt to drag your hands up Ben's chest and catch in the dark strands of his hair. The fruitless tomato plant behind Darren's head begins to swell with bright red tomatoes the size of your fist.

I've got to get that under control.

The memory of Ben figuring out exactly why that happened around you flits through your mind bringing an inescapable wave of embarrassment. The day you'd found it out was when Annie and you were watching Vampire Diaries for the first time in your bedroom back home and as soon as Damon Salvatore walked onto the screen the blueberry bush next to your bed suddenly exploded. Not to mention the first time that your high school boyfriend Newton kissed you in his parent's cornfield, the entire crop suddenly came back tenfold in the middle of winter.

"She's moving in with her boyfriend Hughie." You say, trying not to sound disappointed.

When you first moved to the city, you had wanted to move in with her, but she was apart of the Seven, and when she finally decided to move out of Vought Tower, it was because she wanted to move in with Hughie, not because she wanted to move in with you. It stung the day she told you, and you'd be lying if you said that you were not still a little upset about it, because it felt like she had chosen someone else over you.

"Oh right, that's still going on. Don't know what she sees in that wimp."

"He's sweet. You don’t know him. And I don't know why you’re acting jealous, Annie and you have never gotten along-"

"Because she's a bitch! I can't believe you're still friends with her after all this time."

"Hey don't talk about her that way. Annie is my best friend, practically my sister."

"Right." Darren rolls his eyes again and swings the spoon in a wide arch. "She's always been a bitch and now that she's Starlight she's even worse. She's always had that stick up her ass even when we were kids-"

"If you keep talking about her that way, you can leave." You say simply, feeling your temper begin to flare.

You didn't give a fuck if Darren insulted you or made fun of you, you did however, care if he spoke poorly about Annie. Annie was family to you, Annie had been with you a hell of a lot more than Darren had when you parent's died, she hadn't pulled away from you and vanished into thin air when you needed someone to hold you or when you couldn't sleep or when you woke up screaming or when you couldn't stop crying.

That being said, Annie and Darren had never gotten along, not once in all the years that you'd been friends. Whenever Annie came over, Darren left, and vice versa. You weren't sure why they couldn't get along, but you did think it was infinitely better than Annie being secretly in love with your brother. He never had a lasting relationship in his life that was worth remembering. The longest relationship he'd been in was with his buckled combat boots that he never took off.

Darren lets out an annoyed sigh, but you watch remorse and sympathy drip into his gaze. "Fine. But I just want what's best for you. You know that right?" He puts his hand on your shoulder, his eyes softening. "Come on sis, you know that I'm just looking out for you? I love you, you're the only family I have left that actually cares about me."

Your heart breaks with his words, hurt that he feels like your grandmother doesn't care about him and that he felt like you were the only person in the world that he meant something to. Sure he'd messed up more times than you could count and did occasionally disappear whenever you seemed to need him, but he was your brother.

You sigh. "I know Darren. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so mean before."

"It's okay." He glances over to where Ben has just hung up the phone and is glaring at Darren's hand placement on your shoulder. "I guess I should go get dressed."

"Okay."

"But you're coming with me to meet my friend right?" Darren looks at you with a hopeful expression.

"Um... Well I'd have to tell Jake that I'll be a little late." You say slowly not wanting to disappoint Darren. "And I don't really like leaving him high and dry-"

You didn't like calling out from work, in fact you hadn't missed more than a handful of days in the two years that you'd been working there, because you genuinely liked going to work. Being there was like coming home, surrounded by the healing energy of the plants that thrived under your watchful eye.

"Come on the plants will survive without you for an hour or so." Darren smiles. "Do you want me to beg you sissy? I really want you to come with me. It would make me so happy."

"Well, okay." You concede. "Let me just text Jake."

"Yes! I'll be out in a minute and then you can change okay?"

"Sure."

When Darren struts off down the hallway, Ben joins you in the kitchen, glaring at Darren's back as he disappears into your room.

"Who was on the phone?" You ask him while picking up Darren's bowl and scrape the remaining soggy cereal into the trashcan under the sink.

"Butcher." Ben grunts. "Said that he got a lead on the electric supe, but it's all the way in Boston."

"Boston? But that's so far away. Why would he have an operation there and be picking up cars here? He can't be in two places at once."

"No idea, but Butcher said the lead was solid." Ben shrugs. "And he said that he's getting everyone ready to go right now and that I need to get over there so we can get on the road."

"Everyone's going?" You ask disappointed. The thought of the entire team being gone for a few days made you feel lonely. They were kinda like your extended family. You also felt a little left out that Butcher hadn't asked you to go.

"Yeah. Butcher said that he would have asked you to come, but he knows you work most of this week anyway and that he thinks that it'll be alright if you stay here." Ben rubs the back of his neck, but seems hesitant. "Are you going to-" He clears his throat. "Are you going to be okay?"

You didn't miss the way his eyes flick down the hallway to where your brother is.

Is he worried about me?

"Why? You don't want to leave me with Darren or something?" You joke with a snort.

"No."

But Ben looks away when he says it in a way that makes you think that he's lying.

"Believe it or not Darren used to babysit me when I was little and I didn't die or get brain damage-"

"Not to your knowledge."

"Why are you so worried about me?"

"I'm not! I just-" Ben crosses his arms over his chest annoyed. "I don't think you should go meet his friend."

"Why not? I've met plenty of his friends. They're all very dude-bro. At least he has a type."

"I have no idea what that means."

You roll your eyes, before you consider something else. "Wait, are you jealous or something?"

"I am not fucking jealous!" Ben sighs. "I just think that maybe you should use your head Petals."

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"You going to meet his creepy friend without knowing exactly where you're going or what his friend is going to 'make you do'."

"Make me do? Ben where the fuck do you think my brother is taking me? Do you think he's selling me into the sex trade or something?" You look at him incredulously.

Does he really think so lowly of my brother? He'd never do anything like that. Darren cares about me, he's just guarded and a little rough around the edges.

"You're too fucking trusting Petals!” He explodes.

“What? I am not too trusting.”

“Yes you are!”

“No I’m not. And why are you yelling at me? Why are you mad?” You reply in confusion. “I don’t understand why you’re making such a big deal about this. I've met his friends before."

“I’m not mad I’m just fucking trying to-“ Ben clenches his jaw so tight you can see the muscle pop on the side of his face. “You’re just so damn kind and too damn stupid to see what’s directly in front of your face!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You plant your hands on your hips staring up at him, not expecting Ben to look so angry, but he does. His arms are folded tightly over his bare chest, his muscles tense, and his eyebrows are pulled together. “Are you really telling me that it’s stupid to trust my brother? He’s my brother! Not some random dude I met on the street-“

“He might as well be! In the fucking five minutes he’s been here he’s been nothing, but be a total dick to you!”

“Oh well excuse me Ben, but I’ve known him for more than the five fucking minutes that you have-“

“Exactly! You should know better!” Ben is getting angrier now and you didn't know where all of this was coming from, especially because of how you'd spent the morning and especially because he was acting differently than he had been the past few days. "You care way to much about other people and you shouldn’t! People like him look for people like you. People who are too stupid to know any better. People who as so trusting and innocent that they take everything at face value."

You stare at him with your mouth open, anger and hurt swirling together to form a cold dagger shoved straight into your heart. You didn't understand why he was doing this or why he was getting so angry.

Oh sweetie, you really thought he cared about you? It's all just an act don't you see? The little voice in your head whispered in your ear.

And it made you furious.

"I am not some innocent little girl Ben. I am a grown woman and I don’t have to listen to your toxic Hemingway Code Hero bullshit." You turn back to the sink prepared to wash out the bowl, but Ben grabs on to your wrist and spins you back to look at him.

"You should listen to me! Because caring about people who don't give a shit about you is going to get you fucking killed or worse!" His grip is tight on your wrist, but not enough to bruise. His skin burns against where his hand wraps around your wrist and you worry how much longer you have until Ben goes Nuclear.

You wrench your wrist from his hand.

"At least I have people who care about me! And yeah, maybe I'm a little trusting, but I'd rather be too trusting than push everyone away before I get a chance to know them." You shout back shoving your finger into his bare chest. "You might think that you're some big strong macho man, but if you actually dropped the fucking macho act and acted like you gave a shit maybe there'd be more people willing to be in your life and willing to care about you! Maybe that's why your entire team collectively said "fuck you" and stabbed you in the back! Maybe that's why Vogelbaum wanted to start from scratch with your fucked up son because they knew you were too much of a asshole to admit that you need someone and didn't have the common decency to give anyone a chance!"

"I don't need anyone." Ben's gaze turns murderous at the mention of Homelander and his old team.

"I think you do, but I think that you try to bury the real you underneath all this bullshit and-"

"You don't know anything about me Petals." Ben growls, taking a step forward so that he's leaning down over you, the air warming with the heat of his anger, a slight glow emanating from the middle of his chest.

The counter is pressed into your back as he pins you there, so differently than the other day you were in the same position.

"You think just because we’ve talked a few times and because I sleep on this fucking couch every night that you know me?" He laughs cruelly. "I'd rather have no one than be saddled with someone like you who struts around like a fucking tease with stars in her eyes trying to romanticize every single damn person she runs into. It's no wonder you haven't found a man to fuck you, because you're too busy chasing after a stupid fantasy version of a man who doesn't fucking exist and latching on to assholes like your brother who do nothing but use you!" Ben's eyes have shifted into the darkened pits again, the ones that seem to be ready to drag you beneath the raging waves.

"And I'd rather have no one than someone like you who's too insecure about his own masculinity that he feels the need to project a fucked up toxic "together" version of himself and pretends to care about other people to manipulate them into getting what he wants." You spit back, your eyes shifting bright green.

Every plant in your home begins to tremble, the energy from them flooding through your body, strengthening you, merging together as they prepare to bend to your will.

Ben's expression turns murderous, his lips pulling back in a snarl, prepared to no doubt spit back something that he'd be unable to take back, but Darren walks back into the kitchen wearing a fresh pair of clothes.

He's oblivious to the conversation that Ben and you just had and drops his arm over your shoulder. “What did I miss?”

You feel your eyes shift back to normal, but the anger and frustration still war in your chest, beating against your rib cage, begging to be unleashed. Ben doesn’t respond instead he only glares at you.

“Alrighty then.” Darren snorts when neither of you fill the silence, not sensing the tension in the air. "Don't worry there Benny, I'll take good care of her. I always do." You miss the glare that Darren throws Ben over your head.

But just for a second you think that Darren may have heard more of the conversation between Ben and you than he was willing to admit.

Ben's jaw is tight, eyes still blazing with his own anger and annoyance. "Do whatever the fuck you want. It's not like a give a shit what happens to her." He states before he stomps down the hallway and slams the bathroom door so loud that all the dishes in your kitchen cabinets shudder.

You weren't expecting those words to hurt as much as they did, but it felt like you had taken a two by four to the chest.

"What's his problem?" Darren asks.

"I don't know." You grumble, because you didn't.

The shift of conversation from Ben almost acting concerned about you going with Darren to him insulting you was giving you whiplash. You didn't understand why Ben had said those things to you, why he had yelled at you for being "too trusting." You didn't think that you were too trusting. It wasn't weak to love someone or care for someone else, but you guessed that was how Ben saw it. You wondered if it was because of what Countess did to him or if it came from his trust of his team or if it was ingrained in him from when he was a child.

Does he really think I'm too trusting? I mean he saw how long it took me to trust him? Or how long it took me to warm up to him? Or I guess, sort of warm up to him?

"Are you going to change?" Darren presses, looking down at your soft shirt and sleep shorts with a frown. "You should. Maybe wear something different than those overalls though. Kinda want you to make a good impression you know?"

"Yeah. Um. I guess I'll go now." You murmur walking down the hallway. For a moment you pause outside of the bathroom where you know Ben is, and you're unsure what he's doing because you don't hear the water running, before you go into your bedroom.

You stand there for a minute, taking in a soothing breath, but it does little to calm your racing heart. The anger and frustration you felt began to crash over you and you feel frustrated tears begin to trail down your cheeks.

You weren't sure if it was what Ben had yelled at you or what you had yelled at him, all you knew was that you were hurt and you were happy that Ben was going out of town for a few days, because you didn't think that you could look at him again, not without throwing him out of your apartment on his ass.

A/N: I know, I know, maybe I'm a little addicted to the drama and the angst. And oh my word slow burns are so hard, but I promise that I do have a plan of when the two of them do finally get together and it IS GLORIOUS.

As always thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series please let me know :)

Taglist:

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lilacliquors · 2 years ago

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ik it's late but this has been in my head all say so have a triple threat easter special <3

you wear 🐰bunny ears🐰 on easter headcanons ( butcher, homelander, soldier boy )

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ BUTCHER

he wasn't expecting it, easter was just another day since you had no kids, but you decided to spice things up

so he enters your bedroom after a long day at the office with the boys to see you in bunny ears one of his shirts, unbuttoned all the way down, and his favorite pair of red panties

needless to say, he drops whatever he's holding and walks to you in a daze, eyes raking over your figure with his mouth open slightly

"all this for me?" he asks, and you nod, toying with the ends of his shirt, moving it ever so slightly to expose your chest

he's done for then, and soon his shirt, your panties, and even the bunny ears are on the floor, and the bed is creaking

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ HOMELANDER ( JOHN GILLMAN )

easter was a holiday that made no sense to john, rabbits and chocolate and maybe christ? he should be better at this as an all american hero, but you promised him a surprise, and boy did you deliver

he can't keep his eyes off of you, in your fuzzy pink bunny ears and your silk pink pajamas to match, his mouth practically waters

he takes his time with you, undressing you slowly because it isn't every day you dress up like this for him, and he appreciates the gesture

he wants you to keep the bunny ears on, he thinks you look adorable and, dare he say it, innocent, even as he has you bouncing on his cock, moaning and gasping

it's the dawn of his newest nickname for you, his little bunny

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ SOLDIER BOY ( BEN )

ben wasn't much of a holidays guy, the sentimental stuff just wasn't him. but when he caught sight of you in nothing but a bunny ear headband and white lingerie ...

he practically pounces on you, hands roaming your body extra careful so he doesn't tear this lacy number on you, he wants to see it again sometime, maybe under a wedding dress

but once he gets it off of you, he's like a feral animal, making you scream his name as he pounds into you from behind

"thought you could look all cute and i wouldn't ruin you?" he whispers, pulling your back flush against his chest

you two already bring a whole new meaning to the phrase 'fucking like rabbits', he almost wants you to wear the stupid thing again, just on a random tuesday

#atomwritez #billy butcher x reader #homelander x reader #soldier boy x reader #billy butcher smut #homelander smut #soldier boy smut #billy butcher #homelander #soldier boy

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lila-lou · 1 year ago

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✨Nothing he couldn't handle Pt. 1/3✨

Summary: You finally tell Ben why you won't let him in your panties.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Language, touching and teasing, anxious Reader

Word Count: 2206

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

“Damn it!”, you muttered as you searched the fridge for something to eat. You should have been asleep by now, but you were still full of adrenaline after the last mission you completed just 4 hours ago. Everyone else had been in their rooms for about two hours while you tiptoed around the kitchen in your pajama shirt, desperately looking for a little snack.

You've been a member of the Butchers team for 6 months now. Well, more or less a member. You didn't fight, that wasn't your thing at all, but you had a lot of skill when it came to profiling Supes and figuring out what made them tick, when they lied and what they planned to do next. You worked for Vought, for a 4 year training, until the Tower crashed. In just 2 years, you had learned more about Supes and their profiling than other people did in ten years. You were by far the best in the field, but most importantly, you couldn't be bought and had a strong dislike for Homelander, which was why Butcher showed up on your doorstep six months ago and had Hughie begging you to join the team. The Supes and everything that came with them stopped scaring you a long time ago. You were already too jaded. Well, except for one small aspect.

After agreeing, you stayed in your apartment for a few more weeks, but you quickly realized that wasn't an option at all when you narrowly avoided being split lengthways by Homelander.

Since then you have lived with the other boys, Annie and Kimiko. After the incident between Homelander and Soldier Boy, Annie also made the decision to move in with Hughie to stay with the boys and protect him.

"If you bend over a bit more, I swear to you, I'll rip those damn thin panties off your little ass", Soldier Boy muttered as he leaned against the kitchen island with his arms crossed. "Shit! Stop scaring me!", you squealed a little too loudly, standing back up and clutching your yogurt tightly in both hands. "And by the way… eww! Everything that comes out of your mouth is fucking disgusting”.

Soldier Boy just rolled his eyes and leaned back a little more. Your gaze wandered over his bare torso as you unconsciously bit your bottom lip.

Soldier Boy had been after you since you moved into the apartment you shared. You were the new nice toy he couldn't have. And that very fact made him want you even more.

Of course you couldn't deny damn fine Soldier Boy was, to be honest you actually developed feelings for him over the last few weeks but after the countless accidents and even deaths that occurred when Supes and humans had sex you were just too afraid to let him get to you. As long as Ben was a few healthy inches away from you, your mouth was huge and your attitude even bigger, but as soon as he came closer and touched you, you flinched. Maybe Vought simply shouldn't have assigned a young girl in training to the department that dealt with the most egregious deaths, caused by supes. You hadn't even lasted five months there when you begged Stan Edgar himself to let you join the profiler team.

"You're horny, aren't you?", he grinned knowingly. “Your heart is beating almost as fast as it did, when I kissed you for the first time”. Just the thought of it made your knees weak. You let Ben get close to you twice, but both times you stopped when his hands slid over your hips to your ass.

“No, I’m not”, you grumble and start eating your yogurt, your back leaning against the kitchen counter, facing him.

“C´mon, Sweetheart. I promise you’ll fucking love it”, Ben pushed himself off the kitchen counter and took two steps towards you. You immediately tensed up and pushed yourself back even more.

“Ben…”, you whispered as he stood right in front of you. When his big hand cupped your cheek, you thought your heart would explode. “What do you have to lose?”, he murmured, tilting his head down until his lips touched your neck. As your heartbeat picked up again, he stayed in his position, waiting for some kind of reaction from you.

“My life”, you breathed.

Ben immediately pulled his head back and looked at you, confused, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Do you think I’ll get you pregnant? You´re fucking stupid? Yeah, I kinda like you, but a child would be too much, don't you think?". Ben had absolutely no idea what you were talking about.

Since you were no longer surrounded by him, you had found your voice again. It was like your brain finally had oxygen again.

"What? No! I did not mean that! Of course having a child would ruin my life, at least for now, but that’s not what I meant!”.

Now Ben just looked more confused. His eyes were on you as he tried to understand you. He couldn't understand why you put him off for weeks. He was nice to you, talked to you and even started watching that stupid show about demons and other supernatural crap. And yet you didn't let him get close to you. He was allowed to kiss you twice, that was it. You were a damn tease and he was starting to lose his nerve.

“Then tell me what you fucking mean, Tom Hardy”.

Slightly overwhelmed, you groaned and let your head fall back before you answered. You knew Ben wouldn't let go, if you didn't finally tell him why you were so reserved.

“I’m scared, okay?”, you confessed, still not able to look at him. However, you could hear the surprise in his voice.

"Wait, what? I know you’re not a fucking virgin anymore, so why should you be afraid?”.

It took a few minutes and admonitions from ben, before you finally told him why.

When you finally made it, you looked intently and expectantly at the Supe in front of you. His face slowly relaxed, but his gaze still remained unreadable to you. However, when a slight grin crept onto his lips, you shook your head in annoyance, grumbled "I definitely don't have to let you laugh at me" and started to walk out of the kitchen, but Ben grabbed your wrist. "Fucking Relax, dollface. I’m not laughing at you", he chuckled, but immediately let go of you as your heart beat faster again. With his lips pursed to hide his grin, he raised both hands apologetically.

Slightly offended, you crossed your arms over your chest and looked at him without saying a word. Ben took a deep breath before speaking.

“Do you really think I would hurt you?”, he asked, still smiling slightly.

“You’re not exactly known for your self-control, Soldier Boy”, you replied sharply, narrowing your eyes.

“Oh Sweetheart, believe me. It takes more than a nice tight pussy to make the first fucking super explode". That started the next discussion. It was back and forth, like the last few weeks.

“Okay, how about you sleep in my bed tonight. Just sleep. And if you're still alive tomorrow, you'll have your proof", Ben suggested at one point.

The thought of sleeping with Ben in his bed was both exciting and frightening, but you knew there weren't many options left before he would eventually give up on you. You tapped your folded forearm thoughtfully.

"Only sleeping?", you asked cautiously after a while.

"Ugh… promise?", he replied annoyed.

A few more moments passed before you forced yourself to say it and finally nodded.

"Okay. Maybe that’s not such a bad idea”, you murmured.

Ben rolled his eyes and shook his head, but couldn't help and let a small, genuine smile appear on his lips. When he started walking but you still stopped, he whistled to you, which finally broke you out of your trance. With a few quick steps you caught up with him and walked nervously next to him. When you got to his bedroom door, Ben roughly pushed the door open as usual and waved his arm for you to move on. In fact, it was the first time you were in his room. Your eyes scanned everything as Ben watched you expectantly. You were pretty sure you wouldn't sleep a wink.

As expected, his room smelled of alcohol, weed and a hint of his perfume. Ben walked past you and gently ran his palm over your back, but only for a split second. He sank onto his bed, pulled his legs up and leaned his back against the headboard of the bed. His hand reached for the joint he had started on the nightstand.

"You should take a hit, it would help you relax", Ben lit his joint before taking a deep drag.

“Yeah, I’d rather not", you snorted, continuing to look around the room. Your gaze stopped at the top shelf next to the bed. As you stretched, your shirt riding up and Ben getting a perfect view of your perfect ass, he felt his cock twiching in his sweatpants. Maybe he shouldn't have been abstinent for three weeks when he really had no other choice. He couldn't get you out of his head for days. He had tried having fun with other women several times, but even with his cock deep in a slut's throat and the idea of the bitch being you, it just wasn't working.

“Ewww Ben, are youfor real?”, you pulled out an erotic magazine from 1971. “Gosh, there’s more hair than skin”, you grimaced as you flipped through the pages.

“Well, different times, doll". His gaze traveled from your face, down your body and back to your eyes. “I bet your pussy is perfectly shaved and fucking smooth", he licked his lips, keeping eye contact with you. Your cheeks immediately turned bright red because Ben hit the mark.

“C'mere”, Ben said in his deep voice, putting an arm around your waist and expertly pulling you onto the bed. Landing on your butt, you let out a short squeak of surprise. Ben focused on your heartbeat and breathing as he continued to hold you. Your back was pressed against his bare chest as he still leaned against the headboard.

"How does that feel?", he whispered against your ear, one arm wrapped around you as his free hand slowly stroked down your side to your thigh.

“I… I don’t know”, you whispered shakingly after a few seconds.

Ben scoffed before pressing a light kiss to your pulse point. “Relax, doll. Focus on my touch, not your fucking thoughts”, he breathed against your neck, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t calm your nerves. “Ben…please…You promised”, you tried to push Ben’s arm away from your waist.

“Fiiiiinee”, he groaned annoyed, releasing you from his grasp.

Ben slid further down so he was lying and reached for his phone. He went through the news as if nothing had happened while you still sat rooted to the spot.

“You want to sleep sitting fucking up?”, he murmured, not watching from his phone.

Grumbling, you lay on your side, your back to Ben, and pulled the blanket up to your neck. “Goodnight”, you said quietly, closing your eyes. Ben glanced over at you for a moment before putting his phone away and raising an arm to wrap it around you, but then quickly let go. Ben watched you for a few minutes before lifting the blanket and laying under it too.

When you still hadn't fallen asleep after about 30 minutes of Ben just listening to your heartbeat, you opened your eyes again. “Ben?”, you breathed, barely audible.

"Hmm?".

“Can I try something?”.

“Whatever you fucking want”, he grumbled tiredly.

You took a deep breath before turning to him and looking at his face. Your hand slowly moved to his upper arm and lingered there for a moment before pressing yourself closer to him.

"Can you hold me?", you whispered.

Ben was definitely not the soft type and by now he would have kicked any other woman out of his bed, but like he had been doing for the last 6 months, he made an exception for you.

"Women. Just can't fucking decide", he grumbled, his eyes still closed. His hand reached under your ass and pulled you as tight as he could with a firm tug, knocking the air out of your lungs. Your face was on his chest, next to your hand, while your right leg lay directly over his lap.

"That's okay?".

“I think so”, you answered him as his hand went under your shirt to your lower back and he held you tight. “Feels kinda nice”, you admitted sheepishly, breathing in his distinctive scent.

"Good. Now shut your mouth and sleep. I’m fucking tired”, he grumbled, starting to rub small circles over your soft skin with his thumb.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 Would you like a second part? Been thinking about giving Ben what he wanted from (y/n) for months.😏

Part 2

#jensen ackles #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x y/n #the boys #spn

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