#that i gotta care about this and do this right now this way

[cowgirlvi]

mdni, sub top!vi with a dick, fem bottom!reader, vaginal sex, breeding

wc; 1,579

thinking about whiny, girlcock vi who has the most sensitive dick you’ve ever bared witness to. the two of you have been hooking up for months now and she might be the best sex you’ve ever had. her reactions are priceless too, especially when she first pops the head of her cock inside your hole and she looks like she’s ascended to heaven. you can always picture her blissed out face so clearly in your mind whenever you touch yourself.

her cock is girthy, so fat that you can’t even fit your entire hand around it, and when she’s inside you, you can feel her reach your bellybutton. plus, when she’s fucking into you, she moans as if she’s the one getting fucked. if anyone were to overhear, they’d assume those were your squeaky whimpers, the sounds of you begging.

sometimes you try to just lay back and relax, allow vi to ravage you with her cock, but then she’s breaking you out of your trance and asking if it feels good, if she’s doing it right— and you sigh because she’s so dependent on you, she needs you to tell her what to do. your pussy makes her feel dumb, it makes her brain melt out of her head.

currently, you’re in her lap, bouncing on her cock like she’s nothing more to you than a toy. you’re riding her with a maddeningly slow rhythm, just because you like the faces she makes when you do; like vi can’t decide if it feels good or if she’s going to cry out of frustration.

you whimper, clenching down hard on the thick shaft impaling you, feeling it pulse and throb inside your fluttering walls, feeling the heartbeat in the thick veins running up the sides. you grinds your hips down, taking vi as deep as she can go, loving the way that her fat cock-head kisses your cervix.

vi’s desperation is palpable, her hips twitching and jerking with the effort of holding still, of letting you set the pace. It's clear that she's absolutely dying to just grab your hips and rail into you with pathetic fervor, to fuck you through the goddamn mattress until you’re both a babbling, drooling mess. but she's trying so hard to be good, to let you use her like the fucktoy she is.

vi’s hips twitch with uncontrollable desperation against you and a sudden cry escapes her lips. “baby, fuuuck, please— just, just a little bit faster— ohh!”

“are you really going to— hmmff— going to make me tell you again, vi? stay still,” you say, grabbing her face firmly, cupping her chin so she’s forced to look up and see the disappointment in your eyes. then you lean in, capturing vi’s lips in a filthy kiss, all teeth and tongue as you suck the air from her lungs. you bite at vi’s bottom lip, tugging on it with your teeth before soothing the sting with a kitten-lick of your tongue. she moans into your mouth, pulling you closer to her chest with frenzy of hands. “just make me come. okay, sweetheart? then we can, ahh, talk about what to do with you.”

vi chokes on a sob. her eyes, so blue, are staring at you pleadingly. “you’re so t-tight— unghhh! holy shit, i can’t, i can’t, i can’t,” she mindlessly babbles.

vi clearly doesn’t realize the strength in which she’s gripping onto your waist, because it’s hurting you, but right now you can’t even bring yourself to care enough. you’re consumed by the thought of her cock, excited to feel her come inside you, to stuff you full of her arousal. the pain at your waist stings pleasantly anyway, it makes your pussy clench around her cock harder and she gasps as if she’s been stabbed.

”shhh, i know it’s hard, baby. but you gotta— hnngh— hold it together for me, you gotta wait until i’m, ahh, ready to come. don’t you want to feel me come around your cock?”

vi’s chest is heaving and her face is flushed a deep, pretty candy-pink. she’s staring at you like you hung all the stars in the sky. she looks utterly debauched, completely lost in the feeling of your velvet heat squeezing her so fucking tight, but she nods obediently anyway. she’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

”mmm, you can take it,” you say encouragingly, rubbing circles on her rosy nipples. vi’s head falls back against your headboard, moaning like she’s been gutted. you know she’s going to have a sore throat after this because she hasn’t been quiet once.

”ughh, mmmff, yes—“ vi’s moans are raspy and urgent. her breaths come out in sharp, staccato gasps and her eyelids flutter as she struggles to keep them open.

you hum pleasantly, pleased to see that you’re making vi feel so good, like she’s on another astral plane. sex with her is always intimate and passionate, despite how cruel you can often be.

vi puckers her lips, tilting her chin up to capture your own in a slow, deep kiss. it’s a stark contrast to the frantic, desperate kisses you shared earlier. your tongue traces the seam of vi’s lips, coaxing them apart, and then you’re slipping inside to stroke along vi’s own tongue, tasting her, savoring her.

vi whimpers into the kiss, her hands coming up to tangle in your hair, holding you close as she loses herself in the sensual slide of your mouths. she can taste herself on your tongue from an hour ago, when you had her cock down your throat. the lingering flavor of her own arousal mixes with the unique taste that is purely you, and it makes her head spin with desire.

pulling away, you pepper kisses down her neck— vi is sensitive everywhere, not just her cock. you suck more bruises into her flesh, laving your tongue over older marks that are beginning to fade away.

vi gasps sharply. she’s always been a sucker for neck kisses.

then, despite your numerous warnings this entire time, vi’s cock starts swelling as her orgasm approaches faster. you can feel her skin buzzing and you’re about to give her a piece of your mind, to remind her that you haven’t come yet, until she starts thrusting her hips up into your with abandon. you bite your tongue, holding onto her broad shoulders for dear life.

”yes, yes— oh my god, yes!” you cry, and you’re close, you can feel electricity starting in your toes and making its way up your body. 

vi’s back is arching off your headboard, her toes are curling in the sheets. her toned body withers beneath you, the muscles in her arms flexing as she starts to lose herself in the intense pleasure radiating from her core.

“fuck me, fuck me— nghhh, fuck me!” vi is chanting, then her words dissolve into a soundless scream of ecstasy as her climax crashes over her. 

vi’s entire body tenses up; she feels like a rock beneath you— hard muscles and all. her cock erupts like a volcano inside your pussy, jet after jet of white-hot come filling your womb. she’s shamelessly painting your insides white and her eyes are rolled back in bliss, her tongue lolling out of her mouth like a dumb puppy. she’s completely lost in the throes of her orgasm; she’s dizzy with the pleasure wracking her body.

you have no choice but to clench down hard on vi’s spasming cock, milking it for her entire creamy load. you grind down hard on her twitching shaft, taking every last inch of it inside your pussy. you want to feel vi’s come sloshing around in your stuffed cunt, you want to be absolutely filled with her essence.

vi’s cock gives a few more feeble pulses inside your hot, clenching cunt before finally starting to soften, the thick shaft slumping heavily against your stuffed walls.

that’s when you begin to orgasm on her cock, while she’s sensitive and exhausted, and vi lets out a sob when she feels your pussy walls contracting around her. it’s her punishment for coming before you. and you redouble your efforts, slamming your hips down with a brutal, punishing force that has the headboard slamming against the wall.

“ohhh, vi— mmf! feels so good, babe,” you moan, rolling your hips fast and uncoordinated. you’re grinding down on her so hard that you can feel her heavy balls slap against your ass, the ones that emptied her thick load inside you.

vi grips onto your waist, trying to pull you off her cock with hazy eyes, but you shove her hands away until you’re completely satisfied. vi lets out a garbled moan, her eyes rolling back in her head. every time you roll your hips and drop them into her lap, it sounds like you’re jumping in a puddle of rain outside; because vi’s lap is completely drenched in your wetness, her fat loads of come are messily spilling out around her cock, too much to fit inside you— making the mess even worse.

“fuuck— unngh!” vi sobs.

when you’re done, you collapse against vi’s chest. she looks utterly ruined, completely fucked out and satisfied in a way that makes your heart clench with possessive pride. vi sits there, utterly boneless and spent.

you don’t have the heart to be mad at her.

[beefcakekinard]

"Grab a seat."

Bobby claps Buck's shoulder as he passes on his way into the kitchen. Well - sure, it's got a fridge and a stove, but Bobby's definition of kitchen vs kitchenette leans a little spoiled these days. They can't get out of this rental fast enough.

He comes back with two cups of coffee and sits opposite Buck at the table. He waits as Buck adds a heaping teaspoon of sugar to his mug, glowering at the surface of it while he stirs. He waits as Buck sighs with his whole body and flops back against his chair. Bobby blows the steam from his coffee, takes a scalding sip, and waits. Years of experience have taught him that when Buck's really chewing on something, the easiest way to get it out of him is to outlast his patience.

"I miss Tommy."

It helps that Buck and patience are barely acquaintances.

Buck's continuing the thought before Bobby can even open his mouth. "I can't get him out of my head, Bobby. It's, it's like he's haunting me! Everything I do reminds me of him, even if it has nothing to do with him, and I feel like I'm going crazy!"

Bobby waits. Buck pouts. When it's clear he doesn't have anything more to add, Bobby clasps his hands and leans forward.

"Why do you miss him?"

Buck rears back, looking confused. Bobby spreads his hands.

"You think about him when he's not around. What is it you're thinking about?" he asks. Buck considers the question and flushes. Bobby quickly adds, "Keeping it PG."

Buck scratches his nose, keeping his eyes averted. He takes a deep breath.

"I think... I think about how excited I always was to see him," Buck says to the tabletop. Bobby takes another sip of coffee.

"I think about - how I never had to pretend. Like he saw me, just me, and that was enough. I like, I liked, the way he made me feel about myself." Buck curls in on himself and picks at a thread on his jeans. "I, I miss who I was when he was around."

"Just because Tommy's not around anymore doesn't mean you can't be yourself," Bobby says. Buck takes the bait; he whips his head up to look at him, eyes wide with disbelief.

"No, you, you don't understand, Bobby -" Buck leans towards him, insistent. "I miss how he cares so much about everyone even though he tries to look stoic and casual. I miss how he ugly-laughs at his own stupid jokes. I miss the way he talks to kids like they're adults and I miss how gentle he is with anything smaller than him. I miss how he fills his own dishwasher wrong and I have to fix it every time. I miss him more now than the day he broke up with me, what's wrong with me?"

The only sounds in the room are the ticking of the wall clock and the whooshing in-out of Buck's heavy breathing. Bobby waits until he calms down a bit, until he sits back in his chair again and awaits Bobby's input, looking like he's in anguish over it.

"You know he's not perfect." Bobby feels like he's lobbing a live grenade.

Buck scoffs. "Jesus, Bobby, if anyone knows that right now it's me. But I don't want perfect, I just want Tommy."

The clock ticks. Bobby drinks some more coffee. He waits.

Realization overtakes Buck's face between one blink and the next. "Oh," he says. Bobby smiles, enjoys his coffee, and waits some more.

"Oh!"

There it is.

Buck jumps up, springing to his feet like a cartoon character. "I, I have to go, I gotta - I have to go," he says, all in a rush. "Thanks, Bobby!" he calls over his shoulder before running out the front door, slamming it behind himself. The door opens a crack, just long enough for Buck to call, "Bye Bobby!" into the apartment before he's slamming it closed again. He sounds like a herd of galloping horses running down the hall.

Bobby smiles to himself. He checks the clock - Athena will be home soon, and he feels like whipping up one of her favourites for dinner. He takes the mugs - one empty, one full - into the kitchen and leaves them in the sink while he gets started.

[cvntroach5000]

LaDS men - "Would you still love me if I was a worm?"

dialogue only, slight crack, 1 gendered term used ("ma'am" by Sylus)

content warning: swearing, implied vore (Rafayel), suggestive themes (Sylus)

Xavier ✨

"Xavier, would you still love me if I was a worm?"

"..."

"...Why are you hesitating"

"Oh, sorry, I'm not. I was just thinking what kind of worm you'd be and what you'd need to be kept happy and safe. I'd need to build you some kind of enclosure... But if you were a worm, how would I know which things you like and which you don't? Worms can't talk. I guess I'd have to learn how to speak worm and watch you really closely."

"I'm sure if anyone could make me a happy worm, it'd be you."

"I'm glad you think so. Still, worms are so small and fragile... Please, don't turn into a worm. I don't think my heart could take worrying so much about you."

"Don't worry, I won't! It's just an internet meme."

"Good. Then it's settled. Neither of us will ever turn into worms. If we have to become animals, let's be cats or birds. Together. So we can talk and be equals."

Zayne ❄️

"Zayne, would you still love me if I was a worm?"

"...Sigh."

"Well? Would you, would youuu?"

"Yes. I would become a worm doctor and make sure you are the happiest, healthiest worm. Is that a satisfying answer?"

"Very!"

"Good. Any other hypothetical questions you'd like to ask?"

"Hmm... What kind of worm do you think I'd be?"

"I'm afraid I'm not familiar enough with different worm species to answer that question in a scientifically accurate way. However, I can guarantee you, you would be a worm that is beloved by Zayne."

Rafayel 🪸

"Rafayel, would you still love me if I was a worm?"

"Uhm, duh?? You'd be the cutest little worm, I'd eat you and keep you safe in my stomach."

"...What"

"What"

"You could've stopped at 'yes' and calling me cute."

"Yeah? Well, what about you? What would you do if I turned into a handsome, talented worm?"

"I wouldn't eat you, that's for sure."

"I guess it'd be a shame to waste such a special worm for a meal. You could make me a little worm art studio and then sell my artworks. That way, I could take care of you, even if I was a worm."

"Do you think worms look tasty, Rafayel"

"Of course I don't! But I think you'd be a delicious-looking, tasty little worm."

"...I'm starting to regret asking."

"I literally did nothing wrong."

"You brought vore into this house!"

"Jesus spoke the truth and they hated him for it, too"

"Who the fuck is Jesus"

Sylus 🥀

"Sylus, would you still love me if I was a worm?"

"Heh. What a strange question. Where did that come from?"

"It's an internet meme."

"Well, of course, I would, sweetie. After all, who could resist an adorable worm like you? I'd find an architect and a gardener to design you the largest, most luxurious enclosure, so that you could have the most opportunity to thrive out of any worm in the universe. Every day, I'd tell you how much I love you. And I'd subdue the world, so they'd worship the ground you burrow in."

"...Sylus, I think we gotta have sex now."

"Oh? I didn't know a bit of worm talk could get you so riled up, sweetie."

"You know this isn't about the worm."

"Haha."

"Take off your clothes"

"Yes, ma'am~"

Caleb 🍎

"Caleb, would you—"

"Yes."

"You don't even know what I was gonna—"

"You were going to ask me if I would still love if you were a worm, right?"

"..."

"The answer is yes. Hundred times yes."

"...It'd be nice if you let me finish my question."

"Oh. Okay! Ask me again, I'll wait this time."

"Caleb, would you still love me if I was a worm?"

"Yes!"

"How did you know what I was going to ask anyway?"

"I heard you the other day discussing the meme with your friends. I figured you'd ask sooner or later."

"Hmph."

"Soooo... Would you love me if I was a worm?"

"You're already a worm and I love you just fine, don't I?"

[mochacoda]

[teaser] night d(r)ive | yjh

Pairing: Yoon Jeonghan x GN!Reader

Synopsis: Jeonghan is the kind of guy who would drive 40 minutes out of his way just to pick you up, but also wouldn’t yield the last ramen at the local convenience store to you. He’s also the kind of guy people are quick to fall for, only to get crushed by his indifference for dating. As a close friend of the most sought-after man on campus, you’d like to think that you know Jeonghan well enough to predict his thoughts on romance and his territoriality over ramen. (Spoiler: You don't.)

Content: Angst, Fluff, Comfort | Friends to Lovers | College AU

Tags: short hair jeonghan, extreme pining, liking ramen as a plot device, crying, being losers for each other, insecure reader, lots of konglish w/ translations, overly indulgent kissing, no "y/n,” this is for everyone who voted jeonghan in the poll <3

Word Count: 5K (full)

Release Date: February 9

Masterlist

You‘d like to think that you know Yoon Jeonghan well. Surely, you do! Over the years, you‘ve come across—and committed to memory—dozens, if not hundreds, of his little oddities. You’ve witnessed his personality change with the length of his hair, and learned the hard way that cheating at card games is like second nature to him. At this point, you can recite more information about his pet rock than ramen, which is somewhat terrifying if you dwell on it for too long, considering that ramen is your favorite food. 

But despite his chaotic personality, you also know that he’s incredibly smart, having sat next to him in countless college lectures and trivia events. 

Honestly, it can’t possibly be a stretch to say that you know the man too well, can't it? And at times, it feels a bit unfair that you can only reply, “oh, I know him,” when people fleetingly mention him in conversation. It hurts that you can’t clarify that you know him—that you can’t ramble on about how he made the stupidest joke to make you laugh when you were upset about your most recent midterm, or handmade you the sweetest present for your birthday, or let you choose your favorite film for movie night for the third time in a row—because no one wants to nor needs to hear about it.

But, unfortunately, that’s all you can think about these days. 

Because, unfortunately, Yoon Jeonghan is simultaneously the funniest, weirdest, kindest, and most devastatingly handsome man you’ve ever met. 

Yoon Jeonghan is the kind of guy who would drive 40 minutes out of his way just to pick you up, but also wouldn’t yield the last ramen at the local convenience store to you. Though he gives into his internal demands for petty possessiveness quite often, he cares deeply for his friends. 

He’s also the kind of guy people are quick to fall for, only to get crushed by his nonchalant but somewhat firm indifference for dating. You’ve witnessed him casually turn down far too many objectively gorgeous and incredibly intelligent people, which has convinced you that his standards are impossibly high. And if you were honest with yourself, based on the people he’d already rejected, it would be laughable for you to even think about confessing to him.

And so, as a close friend of the most sought-after man on campus, you’d like to think you know Jeonghan well enough to predict his thoughts on romance and his territoriality over ramen.

In fact, you’re sure about the ramen issue, because you’re witnessing it happen right now.

You’re staring at his smirking face in the instant food aisle of the convenience store, both of you gripping the last Neoguri cup like it’s a trophy.

“You gotta learn patience,” Jeonghan tuts, his lips upturned infuriatingly at one corner. 

“No, you should learn patience. 손 빼, [Take your hand off,]” you demand, grasping the cup tighter.

“싫은데? [Don’t wanna,]” he says in a sing-song voice, raising his chin in defiance.

The ramen cup creaks slightly under the pressure of your combined grip, and a terrible thought forms in your head. Your hand is sandwiched between his hand and the cup, making you feel the heat radiating from his body. It’s something you’re afraid you could get used to. 

You narrow your eyes, targeting his ridiculous, perfect lazy smile. “Take it off while I’m being nice.”

“Nah,” he replies immediately, smiling wider, his tongue sliding to the right. 

Your heart lurches at the sight. 

“치사하게 진짜 이럴 거야? [You’re so petty, are you really going to be like this?]” You chew on your bottom lip, eyes flitting between his face and his hand. 

Jeonghan tilts his head slightly, his dark eyes sharp and steady on yours. He’s not really looking at the ramen anymore, and the intensity of his gaze makes your cheeks feel like they’re on fire.

“내가 여기서 이 옷을 입고 있는데, [I’m wearing these clothes here,]” he says, using his free hand to pinch the fabric of the expensive suit he always wears at his internship. “굳이 라면 하나 때문에 나랑 싸운다고? 그냥 빨리 가자, 음? [You’re really gonna fight with me over just one ramen cup? Let’s just go now, hmm?]”

You press your lips together and jut your chin in defiance. 

He sighs dramatically, shaking his head. His shaggy, dark hair flows with it, and you can’t help but think that he looks princely like this, standing in the middle of this convenience store with his stupidly gorgeous face, and that dumb suit and tie. 

“양보해. [Give it up.] I’ll give you whatever you want,” he says, his voice dipping lower. It feels less like an offer and more like a taunt, a challenge. His tone sends a small shiver through you, and for a second, you’re not sure if he’s teasing or serious.

You have to take a slow, deep breath to calm yourself down before even considering what to say next. You’re grateful for the ride (and his company), of course, but that doesn’t mean he can steal your rightful claim under your nose, in the same casual manner he has when letting one of his fans down. 

You’ve always given into him. Because he means everything to you, of course. 

But you’ve had enough of letting him have his way so easily, not with your precious ramen at risk.

You boldly step closer to him, cutting the distance between the two of you in half. You’re close enough to see your reflection in his eyes, now. 

“I’m not letting go.” You firmly shake your head. You wouldn’t let him win this time. “I don’t want anything but this,” you add, stubbornly.

Tugging hard, you try to pull the cup toward you, but it frustratingly remains stuck on the shelf between the two of you. Looking back up, you see that he isn’t even straining to keep the ramen in place! You frown, wondering when your best friend got so strong.

He leans in just a fraction closer. “Keep trying,” he murmurs, and he’s so close that you can feel his warm breath tickling your face. 

The world narrows to Jeonghan, and the faint scent of the cologne he only wears on weekends. It’s dizzying.

“야아아! [Hey!] I was here first!” you weakly defend, voice embarrassingly squeaky.

And then Jeonghan does something that completely short-circuits your brain.

His free hand lifts and brushes your hair away to your back, before resting on the divot between your neck and collarbone, where his thumb caresses the side of your neck. Feather-light, his touch is gentle, and his fingers are impossibly warm, a stark contrast to this slightly chilly convenience store. You just about choke on your surprise, your heart kicking into overdrive at the sheer intimacy of the gesture. 

God, how is it that you never get a rest day with Jeonghan? How is it that he’s always flirting, always disregarding the boundaries of platonic and romantic love, always making you confused? And how is it that you just let it happen, that you just take whatever affection he gives you? How is it that you’re drawn into his dangerous touch, like a moth to a flame? Except that analogy doesn’t really work, because at least moths don’t know that they’re in danger when they reach fire—you know what you’re getting into, and you know all too well that Jeonghan will never be yours. 

“Please?” he whispers.

Your breath hitches, suddenly aware that even for your overly-touchy friend, this level of skinship is extreme. 

Does he know? Has he found out that you’re in love with him, that you’ve been keeping this ungodly secret from him for far too long? Does he know that every time he lets someone down, that every time he complains to you about people confessing and crying over him, you give him superficial laughs as you swallow your own feelings? 

Does he know that you feel like sinking into the ground every time he entertains a random girl flirting with him, and that every time he crosses boundaries with you, it hammers in the fact that he thinks you’re a joke? 

Does he know that you’ve spent over a year trying to convince yourself that you don’t have feelings for him, only to fail miserably, because there is no such thing as cutting Yoon Jeonghan out of your life, because he makes you feel so, so alive? 

He must know. He must be making fun of you, now.

Your eyes widen, frantically searching his face for an ounce of malice. And you expect to see the look he always has when shredding the hearts of the brave people who confess to him, the face he makes when he casually tells someone that he doesn’t feel the same way. You expect to see an almost-cruel, blank stare paired with apologetic lips pressed together. 

You expect him to crush your heart. 

But instead, he’s staring at you with a gaze so, so, very soft, you wonder if you’ve hallucinated it. Shining eyes, raised eyebrows, mouth parted—he looks devastatingly beautiful.

Masterlist

Author's Note: coming soon for all the singles who need a big literary hug this valentines week

Disclaimer: nothing i write is representative of how svt acts off camera, take their names as stand-ins for oc's!!

Taglist: @syluslittlecrows - @junplusone

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, in every life ࿐‧₊ worst logan - imperfect for you pt.2

chapter summary: You and Laura find yourselves in the void. A few months later, Wade—who claims to be from your universe, and a different Logan appear with a way out.

word count: 13.7k+ (31k+ total)

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: alright! this is the second part... to the second part. all the warnings/tags are the same! and take this as your warning-this is split in two parts! it's too long for tumblr to fit in one post!

(also, i know that it's 10 pm est, but i felt like i had to put this out now after watching lady gaga and bruno mars' performance at the grammy's)

warnings/tags: canon to 'deadpool and wolverine', black widow!reader, worst!logan, laura calls reader mom, violence, heavy angst, detached!reader, loverboy!logan, slow burn, fluff, wade wilson interruption, happy ending, not proofread

series masterlist - part 2

You had been to Italy a few times, never of course to see the sights. But Logan insisted, not caring that the mission was over and the two of you were supposed to be going back to the mansion.

“C’mon,” he murmured against your lips, pressing another chaste kiss against them. “I’ll show you around.”

"Do you even know where we’re goin’?" you asked, raising a skeptical brow as Logan laced his fingers through yours, tugging you along the cobblestone streets of Rome.

"’Course I do," he muttered, but the way his eyes flicked between the street signs said otherwise.

You smirked, leaning into his side. "Uh-huh. So, what’s the plan? Wander around aimlessly ‘til we find somethin’ interesting?"

"Pretty much," he admitted, bringing your joined hands up to press a kiss against your knuckles. "Not like we’re in a rush."

You huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head. "Charles is gonna kill us when we get back."

Logan scoffed. "What’s he gonna do? Give me a disapproving look? Put me in time-out?" He squeezed your hand. "C’mon, darlin’. When’s the last time we had a real vacation?"

You exhaled, looking around. The warm glow of streetlights reflected off the damp stone, the air thick with the scent of fresh bread and espresso. It was peaceful. Normal.

You nudged him with your shoulder. "You’re lucky I like you."

He smirked. "Damn right I am." Logan leaned in a little closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Plus, it helps I got a girl who can speak Italian."

You rolled your eyes but didn’t pull away. "Yeah? And how exactly does that help you?"

Logan squeezed your hand, guiding you through the winding streets. "Means I don’t gotta fumble my way through orderin’ dinner."

You snorted. "So that’s why you’re keeping me around? For food?"

"Pretty much," he said, smirking. "That and the company."

You hummed, pretending to consider. "Could’ve just hired a translator."

Logan stopped walking, turning to face you with that look—the one that made your stomach flip, the one that told you he was serious even when his words weren’t. "Don’t need a translator. Need you."

Your breath hitched, but you covered it with a scoff, nudging him playfully. But before you could get out a word he spoke again.

“Let’s get married.”

You blinked at Logan, unsure if you’d heard him right. “What?”

Logan didn’t flinch. He just stood there, watching you with that same calm intensity he always had. “Let’s get married.”

A laugh escaped you, unbidden, half incredulous, half breathless. “You drunk already?”

Logan smirked. “Not yet.”

You shook your head, crossing your arms. “Logan—”

“I’m serious.” He stepped closer, taking your hands in his. “I know you know about the damn ring.”

Your breath hitched.

You did know.

You’d found it once, hidden away in his things. A simple gold band, unassuming, well-worn. You hadn’t asked about it at the time, but part of you had known—Logan didn’t keep things unless they mattered.

Your fingers curled around his. “You’ve had that ring for years.”

“Longer,” he admitted. “First time I met you, I bought it.”

Something in your chest tightened. “Logan.”

“I’ve lost a lot,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, rougher. “Too much. But you keep coming back to me. Life after life. And I keep finding you.”

Your throat felt tight. “This isn’t like the other times.”

Logan shook his head. “No. It ain’t. This time, I’m not gonna waste any more of it.”

You searched his face, looking for hesitation, doubt—anything that might tell you he was caught up in the moment. But there was nothing. Just certainty.

A quiet, stunned laugh escaped you. “You want to get married. Right now?”

“Why the hell not?” He grinned. “We got a whole city to ourselves. We’ve both seen enough shit to know waiting doesn’t always do us any favors.”

You exhaled, tilting your head. “You don’t even have the ring on you.”

Logan pulled his hand from yours, reached into his pocket, and held it up between his fingers. “You sure about that?”

Your heart nearly stopped.

“You carry it around?”

“Every damn day.”

You stared at him, at the way he was just standing there, so unshaken, so sure, like he’d been waiting for this moment forever.

Maybe he had.

And maybe, just maybe, so had you.

“Alright,” you breathed. “Let’s do it.”

Logan’s lips twitched into a grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said, shaking your head, laughing under your breath. “Let’s get married.”

---

The church was small—hidden in the quieter part of the city, far from the crowds of tourists. The old priest inside raised a brow when you and Logan walked in, but he didn’t ask many questions.

Logan held your hand the entire time, his thumb tracing idle circles against your skin. When the priest asked if you were ready, Logan squeezed your fingers, just once.

Neither of you had vows prepared—there hadn’t been time for that. But you didn’t need them.

“You already know what you mean to me,” Logan murmured, slipping the ring onto your finger. “Don’t need words to prove it.”

You swallowed past the lump in your throat, looking down at the band that fit so perfectly. Then you looked back at him, that same familiar, stubborn, impossible man you had known for years.

You curled your fingers around his hand. “Good. Because I don’t have anything poetic either.”

Logan chuckled. “Don’t need poetic.”

You smiled, lifting your joined hands to your lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “Then let’s just get to the part where they say we’re stuck with each other.”

Logan smirked. “Thought you’d never ask.”

The priest gave a small, amused shake of his head before speaking the final words. And just like that, it was done.

Married.

You turned to Logan, your new husband, and before he could say anything, you grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him into a kiss.

He made a noise of surprise, but it didn’t take him long to catch up, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist. His lips were warm, familiar, and when he broke away just enough to murmur against your mouth, his voice was thick with something you couldn’t name.

“’Bout damn time.”

You laughed, forehead resting against his. “Yeah,” you whispered. “It is.”

Logan cupped your jaw, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “You’re mine now.”

You smirked. “Always was.”

He kissed you again, and this time, neither of you were in any rush to pull away.

---

You woke up, not with a start, just a slow realization that it was a dream—a memory.

The ceiling fan above you spun in lazy circles, the dim morning light filtering through the blinds. The scent of saltwater lingered in the air, mixing with the faintest trace of lemon cleaner from Laura’s half-hearted attempt at tidying up the place. For a second, you could still feel Logan’s hand in yours, the weight of the ring on your finger, the warmth of his breath against your lips.

But it wasn’t real. Not anymore.

You exhaled, rubbing the sleep from your eyes before pushing yourself up. The bed was too big, too empty. You swung your legs over the side, the cool floor grounding you in the present.

A quiet knock sounded at the door. “Mom?”

You sighed, rolling your shoulders before standing. “Yeah?”

Laura cracked the door open, already dressed, her sunglasses perched on top of her head. “You okay?”

You huffed, running a hand through your hair. “Yeah. Why?”

Laura leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “You were making that face again.”

You raised a brow. “What face?”

“The sad, I’m thinking about him again face.”

You snorted. “That’s not a thing.”

Laura shrugged. “Sure.”

Shaking your head, you moved past her and into the kitchen. “You eat?”

She grabbed an apple from the counter, biting into it as she hopped onto a stool. “Yeah. You?”

“Not yet.” You poured yourself a cup of coffee, the bitter scent filling the air.

Laura studied you for a second before speaking. “You had another dream, didn’t you?”

You took a sip of coffee before answering. “Maybe.”

Laura didn’t push, just nodded. “Was it a good one?”

Your fingers curled around the mug. “Yeah.”

She chewed her apple slowly, then said, “You think he ever dreamed about you?”

You swallowed, setting the mug down. “I know he did.”

Laura was quiet for a moment before hopping off the stool. “You wanna do something today? Beach, maybe?”

You glanced out the window at the waves rolling against the shore. The idea of a normal day, of pretending for just a little while longer, didn’t sound too bad. “Yeah. Beach sounds good.”

Laura nodded. “Cool. I’ll grab the towels.”

As she walked away, you let out a slow breath, staring at the coffee in your hands. The dream still clung to you, the weight of it settling deep in your chest.

You shook it off.

For now, there was the beach.

For now, there was Laura.

And for now, that was enough.

---

Logan exhaled, the cigarette between his fingers burning low. The Florida heat clung to him, sweat beading at the back of his neck as he leaned against the hood of his truck.

She was in there.

He knew her routine now—when she worked, when she shopped, when she left the house. He told himself he wasn’t stalking, that he was just waiting. But waiting for what, exactly? For her to acknowledge him? For her to let him in?

Wade had called him an idiot for sticking around. Said he was wasting his time. Maybe he was.

But maybe he wasn’t.

He took a slow drag, watching as a familiar car pulled out of the driveway. She was driving. Laura was in the passenger seat, sunglasses on, arms crossed, probably bitching about something.

Logan smirked.

He let the cigarette drop, crushing it under his boot as he pushed off the truck.

They weren’t running.

And as long as they weren’t running, he wasn’t leaving.

---

You stared at him, unabashedly. Something you only did when you were going to scold him for something.

“What?” Logan asked, turning to face you.

You crawled down the bed before sitting at the edge of it, chin in your hand, glasses slipping down your nose. “Why do you have to go to the bar? You could…”

Logan, who had just finished pulling his boots on, paused mid-motion. His brow lifted as he looked at you over his shoulder. “I could… what?”

You shrugged, pushing your glasses up absentmindedly. “I don’t know. Stay.”

Logan snorted, shaking his head as he grabbed his jacket. “What, and listen to Scott ramble about team-building exercises? No thanks.”

You huffed, tilting your head. “You could grade papers.”

He let out a short laugh, shrugging on his jacket. “Yeah, ‘cause that sounds like a real fun time.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning back on your hands. “You wouldn’t have to grade them. You could just… be here.”

Logan’s movements slowed slightly as he adjusted the cuffs of his jacket. He didn’t say anything right away, just stood there, like he was debating whether or not to argue. Then, with a sigh, he turned, arms crossed. “What’s this really about, Y/N?”

You hesitated, tapping your fingers against the blanket. “Nothing. Just thought maybe, for once, you wouldn’t leave as soon as classes were done.”

Logan studied you, his expression softening. “Did something happen?”

You shook your head quickly. “No, I just…” You trailed off, realizing how ridiculous you sounded. You weren’t clingy—at least, you didn’t think you were. But Logan was always leaving. Always heading off somewhere, whether it was a bar, a mission, or just to be alone. And even though you knew that was just the way he was, it didn’t mean you liked it.

Logan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Darlin’…”

“Never mind,” you said quickly, pushing yourself off the bed. “Forget I said anything.”

Logan caught your wrist before you could move past him, his grip firm but gentle. “Hey.” His voice was quieter now. “I didn’t mean—”

You shook your head, pulling your wrist free. “It’s fine, Logan. Go.”

His jaw clenched slightly, like he wanted to argue, but instead, he just stood there, watching as you walked past him.

You didn’t slam the door behind you, but you wanted to.

---

Logan woke up with a sharp inhale, the remnants of the dream lingering in his chest like a dull ache.

He stared at the ceiling, his breathing evening out as he tried to push the memory away. But it clung to him, heavy and persistent.

You weren’t her. And he wasn’t your Logan.

But that didn’t make it any easier.

With a grunt, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, rubbing a hand over his face before reaching for the half-empty bottle of whiskey on the nightstand.

He paused, staring at it for a long moment before setting it back down.

Outside, the Florida heat was already creeping in, the morning sun casting long shadows across the floor. He didn’t know what the hell he was still doing here.

But he wasn’t leaving.

Not yet.

---

The ocean breeze rolled in slow and steady, carrying the scent of salt and sunscreen as you leaned back against your towel. The Florida sun wasn’t unbearable, but it was warm enough to make you drowsy. Laura sat beside you, picking lazily at the label of her water bottle, her sunglasses shielding her eyes.

It had been a good day. The kind of day you never thought you’d have—normal, easy.

Until he showed up.

Laura was the first to notice. She didn’t say anything at first, just hummed softly before muttering, “He’s here.”

You frowned, not even opening your eyes. “Who?”

“Who do you think?”

Your stomach twisted, but you kept your expression neutral as you cracked one eye open. Sure enough, Logan stood a few yards away, leaning against a wooden post near the boardwalk. He wasn’t looking directly at you—just gazing out at the water, arms crossed, the picture of casual indifference.

It was bullshit.

You sighed, rubbing your fingers against your temple. “He’s not gonna leave, is he?”

Laura took a slow sip of her water. “Nope.”

You sat up, adjusting your sunglasses as you shot him a glare. He still wasn’t looking at you, but you knew he knew you saw him.

Laura smirked. “You gonna say something, or just keep making angry faces at him?”

“I’m not making angry faces,” you muttered.

“You are.”

You ignored her, pushing yourself up. You dusted the sand off your legs before heading toward him, your steps slow and deliberate. Logan didn’t move until you were right in front of him. Only then did he glance down, his expression unreadable.

“You lost?” you asked, crossing your arms.

Logan smirked. “Nah. Just enjoyin’ the view.”

You scoffed. “Right.”

Silence stretched between you, the sound of waves crashing filling the space where words should have been. Logan shifted slightly, but he didn’t back off.

“You gonna keep following me?” you asked, your voice low.

Logan exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly. “Ain’t followin’ you, darlin’. Just happened to be in the neighborhood.”

You arched a brow. “Really? You just happened to be at this exact beach, at this exact moment?”

“Guess it’s my lucky day,” he drawled.

You clenched your jaw, debating if you should just turn around and walk away. But something about the way he was looking at you—calm, patient, stubborn as ever—made your skin prickle.

“You waiting for me to say something?” you asked.

Logan shrugged. “Figured you might.”

You inhaled sharply, taking a step closer. “I said goodbye, Logan. You’re the one who won’t let it go.”

His expression didn’t change. “Yeah, you said goodbye. I just didn’t listen.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You don’t even know me.”

Logan tilted his head slightly, studying you. “I know enough.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Unbelievable.”

Before he could respond, Laura called out from behind you. “Are you done flirting, or should I come back later?”

Your head snapped toward her. “Laura.”

She just shrugged, completely unfazed. “What? I’m just saying.”

Logan smirked, and you turned back to him, pointing a finger at his chest. “Don’t.”

He held up his hands in mock surrender, but the smirk didn’t fade.

You huffed. “If you’re gonna keep hanging around, at least be useful and stay out of my way.”

Logan’s gaze flickered over you, something unreadable in his expression. Then, with an infuriating amount of ease, he said, “No promises.”

You clenched your fists, exhaling through your nose before turning sharply on your heel and walking back toward Laura.

She was still smirking when you sat down.

“Shut up,” you muttered.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking it.”

Laura leaned back on her elbows, tilting her head toward Logan. “You know, you could just talk to him like a normal person.”

You ripped open a bag of chips with more force than necessary. “I don’t want to talk to him.”

Laura hummed. “Then why’d you go over there?”

You froze mid-chew before shooting her a glare. “You are so grounded.”

Laura snorted. “Good luck enforcing that.”

You muttered something under your breath, throwing another glance at Logan, who was still standing in the same damn spot, watching the ocean like he had all the time in the world.

You hated how much it felt like he belonged there.

Laura smirked again, popping a chip into her mouth. “You’re gonna have to deal with this at some point, you know.”

You exhaled sharply. “Not today.”

“Yeah,” Laura murmured, staring at Logan. “We’ll see.”

---

It had been a week since the beach. Another week of pretending Logan wasn’t lurking in the background, watching but never interfering. Another week of Laura making way too many smug comments.

You ignored both of them.

Mostly.

Right now, you were more focused on getting home before the storm rolling in had the chance to flood the streets. Florida weather was unpredictable as hell—one minute sunny, the next a full-blown hurricane. The dark clouds overhead rumbled, lightning flashing in the distance as you pulled out of the school parking lot.

You had just turned onto the main road when the car jolted.

Then, the all-too-familiar thunk-thunk-thunk of a flat tire.

You let out a slow, controlled breath through your nose. “Of course.”

You pulled over onto the shoulder, gripping the wheel for a moment before forcing yourself to relax. This was fine. You could handle this.

The moment you stepped out, the humidity hit you like a wall. The air was thick, heavy with the scent of rain and asphalt. You crouched, assessing the damage. The back tire was completely shot, rubber torn to hell.

You sighed, pushing your hair away from your face. “Just needed one more week, you piece of shit,” you muttered, kicking the tire lightly before heading to the trunk for the spare.

A familiar rumble of an engine approached.

You froze for half a second before gritting your teeth.

Not even five minutes and he was here.

Logan’s truck slowed to a stop behind you. You didn’t have to turn around to know he was already climbing out, probably looking all smug and self-satisfied.

“Need a hand?”

You exhaled through your nose before straightening up and turning to face him. “No.”

Logan tilted his head, hands on his hips as he looked from you to the tire. “You sure? ‘Cause that looks pretty fucked.”

“I got it,” you said, crossing your arms.

Logan nodded, clearly not convinced. He watched as you popped the trunk, grabbed the spare, and then crouched back down to remove the damaged tire. You worked quickly, efficiently—this wasn’t exactly your first time handling something like this.

Logan leaned against his truck, arms crossed. “Y’know, most people would just say ‘thanks.’”

You didn’t even glance at him. “Most people aren’t me.”

Logan smirked. “No argument there.”

You ignored him, focusing on the task at hand. A bolt was being stubborn, refusing to budge. You adjusted your grip, using more force—nothing.

Logan pushed off his truck, strolling over. “Want me to—”

You stood up, cutting him off. “I swear to God, Logan, if you—”

Thunder cracked overhead, and the sky opened up.

Within seconds, you were both drenched.

You closed your eyes, inhaling deeply as cold rain soaked through your clothes.

Logan exhaled a short laugh. “Well. That’s unfortunate.”

You snapped your head toward him, glaring. “Really?”

He smirked, completely unfazed by the downpour. “What? You don’t like the rain?”

You huffed, brushing wet hair from your face before crouching back down. “Just shut up and let me work.”

Logan didn’t. Instead, he crouched beside you, reaching for the stubborn bolt.

You swatted his hand away. “I said I got it.”

He just looked at you, unimpressed. “It’s rusted. You need more leverage.”

“I know that.”

Logan didn’t argue. He just waited.

You exhaled sharply before finally moving aside, just enough for him to take over.

With one sharp twist, the bolt loosened.

You clenched your jaw. “Show-off.”

Logan smirked. “You loosened it for me.”

You rolled your eyes, but together, the two of you worked in sync—removing the damaged tire, fitting the spare, tightening the bolts. It was quick, practiced, almost too easy.

By the time you finished, the rain had slowed, leaving the both of you completely soaked.

Logan stood, brushing water from his arms. “Could’ve just let me do the whole thing.”

You shut the trunk with more force than necessary. “Could’ve just driven past and minded your own damn business.”

Logan smirked. “Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?”

You glared at him, but before you could respond, another engine rumbled down the road.

A blue sedan slowed beside you. The passenger window rolled down, revealing an older woman with a concerned expression.

“Everything alright, dear?” she asked, eyes flicking between you and Logan.

You forced a polite smile. “Yeah, I—”

“She’s fine,” Logan interrupted.

You turned sharply toward him. “Excuse you?”

Logan ignored you, giving the woman a nod. “Just a flat. All good now.”

The woman hesitated, glancing at you again before nodding slowly. “Alright, if you’re sure. Stay safe.”

The moment she drove off, you turned to Logan, scowling. “What the hell was that?”

Logan shrugged. “What? You were fine.”

You threw your hands up. “And I couldn’t say that myself?”

Logan smirked. “You could’ve, but you were takin’ too long.”

You huffed, rubbing your temples. “You are insufferable.”

Logan grinned. “And yet, here you are.”

You took a slow breath, reining in your frustration. “Are we done here?”

Logan looked you over, still clearly amused. “Need me to follow you home? Just in case?”

“I’d rather drive off a bridge.”

“Bit dramatic, don’t ya think?”

You turned toward your car, muttering, “Go to hell, Logan.”

He chuckled, stepping back toward his truck. “I’ll see you around, darlin’.”

You didn’t respond, just slammed the driver’s door shut before pulling back onto the road.

When you glanced in the rearview mirror, Logan was still standing there, watching.

And damn it, you hated the way it made your chest tighten.

---

Laura was already sitting on the couch when you walked through the front door, damp clothes clinging to your skin, rain still dripping from your hair. She took one look at you—soaked, pissed off, barely holding yourself together—and sighed.

"You let him help, didn’t you?"

You dropped your keys on the counter with more force than necessary. "No."

Laura arched a brow.

You clenched your jaw, yanking open the fridge just to give yourself something to do. "Fine. Kind of."

Laura smirked. "Figured."

You grabbed a water bottle and shut the fridge, exhaling sharply. "He just happened to be there."

"Uh-huh."

You turned, leveling her with a glare. "Don’t start."

Laura held up her hands in mock surrender, but the amusement never left her face. "I’m just saying, for someone who wants him to leave, you sure make it easy for him to stick around."

You threw the water bottle onto the counter. "You think I want him here?"

Laura’s smirk faded slightly, her expression shifting into something more thoughtful. "I think you don’t know what you want."

That did it.

Your patience, already worn thin, snapped.

"You think I don’t know?" you shot back, voice rising. "You think this is easy? That I like having him in the background, watching, waiting, making me remember things I don’t want to remember?"

Laura blinked, caught off guard by the sudden outburst.

You ran a hand through your wet hair, pacing. "Do you know how hard I worked to move on? How hard I tried to build something—anything—that didn’t lead back to him? And now he’s here, and I can’t—" You cut yourself off, exhaling sharply. "I won’t let him pull me back into it."

Laura’s brows pulled together, her voice quieter. "Mom—"

"No," you said, pointing at her. "You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to act like I’m the one making it complicated when he’s the one who won’t leave."

Laura’s jaw tightened. "Maybe he won’t leave because he actually gives a shit."

"That’s not the point!"

"Then what is the point?" she snapped, standing now. "That he’s not our Logan? That he’s not your Logan?"

You flinched.

Laura shook her head. "You keep acting like he’s a ghost, but he’s not. He’s here. And you can keep pretending it doesn’t matter, but it does. He does."

Your chest tightened. "He’s not the man I married."

"No," Laura said, her voice quieter but no less firm. "But he’s still Logan."

Silence.

Your hands curled into fists at your sides, the weight of her words pressing down on you like a vice.

Laura let out a slow breath, her shoulders slumping slightly. "I know you miss him."

Your throat burned. "It doesn’t matter."

"It does."

You shook your head, turning away. "I need to shower."

"Mom—"

"I need to shower, Laura."

She didn’t argue this time. She just watched as you walked toward the bathroom, your legs heavier with every step.

When the door clicked shut behind you, you pressed your back against it, squeezing your eyes shut.

You could still hear his voice in your head, feel the warmth of his hands on yours, see the way he used to look at you—like you were the only thing keeping him steady.

And now he was here. Not your Logan. Not the man you’d built a life with. But Logan all the same.

Laura was right.

But that didn’t mean you were ready to face it.

---

You grunted as you pulled again, trying to unlodge the stubborn screw. “Stupid. Fucking—” A warm hand enveloped yours, you didn’t need to turn around to know who’s. “I got it, kotik.”

He hummed, not condescending, but like he knew you did. “I know. Just lemme help.”

You exhaled sharply through your nose but didn’t fight him when his hand covered yours, his other gripping the wrench. With barely any effort, he turned it, the stubborn screw finally giving way with a sharp creak.

You scowled. “I had it.”

Logan smirked, setting the wrench down. “Sure, sweetheart.”

You huffed, swiping your arm across your forehead, smudging a bit of grease in the process. Logan caught it, his thumb brushing the mark off before you could duck away. His touch lingered, his eyes scanning your face.

“What’s wrong?”

You scoffed, grabbing a rag to wipe your hands. “It was the damn screw you just unlodged.”

Logan’s brow twitched. “Try again.”

You sighed, rolling your shoulders, the tension refusing to ease. “It’s nothing.”

“Didn’t ask if it was nothing,” he said, arms crossing. “Asked what’s wrong.”

You hesitated, gripping the rag tighter before exhaling. “Scott’s just… piling things on me. Ororo asked me to help out more with the kids during training, which I want to do, but then Scott starts throwing his bullshit at me too. Paperwork, scheduling, grading tests that he’s supposed to be handling." You shook your head. "And now, apparently, I’m also in charge of making sure half the team doesn’t set themselves on fire in the Danger Room.”

Logan nodded slowly. “That all?”

Your jaw clenched. “No.”

He waited, saying nothing. Just watching.

You groaned, tossing the rag onto the workbench. “It’s everything. The mansion, the missions, the meetings—God, the meetings. I swear, if I have to sit through another three-hour debate about whether the Blackbird should have a different paint job, I’m gonna throw myself off the roof.”

Logan huffed a quiet laugh, stepping closer. “Y’know, you could just tell ‘em to go to hell.”

You snorted. “Yeah, and then Scott would really make my life miserable.”

Logan’s hand found your waist, his grip warm and steady. “Then let me do it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, that would go over great. You storming into a meeting, claws out, telling Summers where to shove his clipboard.”

Logan grinned. “Tempting.”

You sighed, finally leaning into him. “I’m just tired, kotik.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple. “I know.”

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. His hand traced slow circles against your lower back, grounding you. The steady rise and fall of his breathing, the quiet hum of the mansion in the distance—it was enough to make you forget the stress, just for a second.

“You should tell him no,” Logan murmured.

You tilted your head up to meet his gaze. “And what? Let the entire school burn down?”

His lips twitched. “Not our problem.”

You huffed a small laugh, shaking your head. “You say that, but we both know you’d be the first one running in if it did.”

Logan’s smirk softened. “Maybe.”

You sighed, resting your forehead against his chest. “I hate when you’re right.”

“Lucky for you, it ain’t often.”

You smiled against his shirt, letting the exhaustion slip away—at least for now.

---

You woke up to the sound of waves crashing outside, your chest tight, your skin too warm.

For a moment, you forgot where you were. You expected the distant hum of the mansion, the smell of Logan’s aftershave, the warmth of his body beside you.

But the bed was empty. The room was quiet.

And Logan was gone.

You swallowed hard, blinking up at the ceiling.

It was just a dream.

Just a memory.

And that’s all it would ever be.

---

The day passed in a blur. You went through the motions—teaching gym class, keeping the kids in line, pretending like nothing was wrong. Like you hadn’t spent the entire morning haunted by a dream that wasn’t just a dream.

Like Logan hadn’t found you.

You’d seen him again after work. He wasn’t trying to hide this time. He leaned against his truck, arms crossed, watching from across the parking lot. Not approaching. Not leaving. Just waiting.

And it pissed you off.

Laura wasn’t home when you got back. Probably at the beach or grabbing food. You had a few hours to yourself, time to think, time to breathe—

A knock at the door cut through the silence.

You stared at it.

Another knock. Louder this time.

You already knew who it was.

Jaw clenched, you walked over and yanked the door open, grip tight on the handle.

Logan stood there, his expression unreadable. “Hey.”

You didn’t hesitate. “No.”

His brow furrowed. “No?”

You stepped onto the porch, shutting the door behind you. “No. Whatever the hell you think you’re doing? No.”

Logan exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Ain’t here to start a fight, darlin’.”

“Then why are you here?” you snapped, crossing your arms. “Because if you think I’m just gonna let you hover around like some stray, you’re dead wrong.”

Logan’s jaw flexed. “I just wanna talk.”

“And say the same goddamn bullshit? Here’s the thing,” you gripped the collar of his leather jacket tightly, pulling him slightly closer to you. “I don’t fucking care.”

Logan didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away. Just stared at you, his expression unreadable.

Your fingers curled tighter around his jacket, the leather warm beneath your grip. “You think this is romantic? You think tailing me for months, showing up at my fucking door, is gonna make me change my mind?” You shoved him back—hard. He barely stumbled. “I don’t care what you have to say, Logan.”

His jaw clenched. “Yeah? Then why’d you open the door?”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Because I knew you wouldn’t leave if I didn’t.”

Logan exhaled through his nose, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m not here to fight with you.”

“Then what the hell do you want?” Your voice was sharp, cutting through the humid night air.

He dropped his hand, looking at you like the answer was obvious. “I want to know why you’re lyin’ to yourself.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Jesus, Logan, get over yourself.”

“I ain’t talkin’ about me,” he shot back. “I’m talkin’ about you.”

You clenched your fists, nails digging into your palms. “I told you—”

“No, you haven’t,” Logan interrupted, stepping closer. “You keep pushin’ me away, but you ain’t sayin’ why.”

“Because I don’t owe you a fucking reason,” you snapped.

Logan studied you, his gaze slow, careful. “It’s ‘cause of him, ain’t it?”

Your stomach twisted, but your expression didn’t falter. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, you do,” he murmured. “The Logan you lost. The one that was yours.”

Your breath hitched.

Logan’s voice was quieter now, steady but rough. “That’s why you’re runnin’, why you won’t let yourself stop. ‘Cause you think if you do, you’re betrayin’ him.”

You hated how easily he saw through you.

Your throat felt tight, but you forced out a scoff. “You don’t know shit, Logan.”

“I know grief.” His voice was low, weighted. “I know what it does to you. How it makes you feel like movin’ on is some kinda sin.”

You looked away, jaw tight.

“I also know,” he continued, “that it don’t go away. Don’t matter how far you run, how many times you try to start over.” His tone softened, just slightly. “It stays with you. But it don’t mean you gotta stay buried with it.”

Your hands trembled. You curled them into fists to stop it.

“Look at me,” Logan said.

You didn’t.

A rough sigh, then—you felt it. His hand, warm, familiar, pressing against the side of your face. You stiffened, but he didn’t force it, just let his thumb brush against your cheek.

“Darlin’,” Logan murmured. “I ain’t askin’ you to forget him.”

You swallowed hard.

“I just don’t want you to forget yourself.”

Your breath hitched.

You wanted to shove him away again. Wanted to punch him. Wanted to yell and tell him he was wrong.

But the worst part? He wasn’t.

And you fucking hated him for it.

Your eyes stung, but you refused to let them fall.

Finally, you forced yourself to move, pulling back, breaking the contact. “Go home, Logan.”

Logan didn’t move.

You inhaled sharply. “I mean it.”

He studied you for a long moment before nodding once. “Alright.”

Then—he stepped back, hands in his pockets. But he didn’t turn around. Didn’t leave.

Not yet.

His gaze lingered on you, something unreadable in it.

Then, quieter, rougher—

“I’ll see you around.”

You didn’t answer.

And this time, when he walked away—you didn’t watch him go.

---

He could tell you weren’t fully asleep, nor fully awake, when he got back. The lamp on your bedside table was still on, but your glasses were neatly folded on top of your book.

“Hmm? Logan?”

He slipped off his boots and pulled off his shirt before sliding in behind you, gently pushing your shoulder down so you wouldn’t get up. “Yeah. ‘S me.”

"It’s 2 in the morning." Your voice was quiet, thick with sleep. "You’ve been comin’ home later."

Logan exhaled through his nose, running a hand down his face as he settled onto the bed beside you. His body was still warm from the whiskey, the buzz clinging to the edges of his thoughts. He didn’t answer right away, just reached over and turned off your lamp, leaving only the soft glow of the nightlight in the corner.

You shifted, turning onto your side to face him. Even in the dim light, he could see your eyes—heavy with exhaustion but still watching him, still waiting. You always waited.

For months now, you had tried to get him to stay. At first, you asked outright, voice soft but certain—"Stay tonight?" And when that didn’t work, you tried coaxing, offering quiet conversation, little distractions, your presence alone.

Then, when that didn’t work either, it became this.

Half-asleep murmurs. The lingering hope that maybe, just maybe, he’d come home early for once.

But he never did.

"Yeah," Logan muttered, shifting onto his back. "Got caught up."

You huffed, barely a sound, but he felt it more than heard it. "You always do."

Logan stared at the ceiling, jaw tight. He could feel the weight of your gaze on him, the way you were waiting for him to say something—anything—to ease the ache in your chest. But he didn’t. Because he didn’t know how.

The silence stretched between you.

Then, quietly, you spoke again. "You don’t have to go every night."

Logan swallowed, his throat dry. He could lie, say it wasn’t about the bar, say he just needed the air. But you weren’t stupid. You knew what he was doing, why he kept his distance even when he was right here beside you.

So he didn’t say anything at all.

After a beat, you sighed and turned over, your back to him. A clear dismissal.

Logan closed his eyes, listening to the quiet sound of your breathing as you drifted off.

It wasn’t always like this.

At the start, you stayed up for him. You’d wait in the library, curled up with a book, or in the kitchen with tea, pretending you just happened to be awake. You used to smile when he walked in, small and tired but warm. You’d ask how his night was, even when you knew he wouldn’t answer properly.

And then, when you realized nothing changed, you started waiting in bed instead. Eyes heavy but open, glasses slipping down your nose, always murmuring some half-asleep greeting before reaching for him.

Now? Now you barely waited at all.

Logan exhaled, turning his head to look at you. You were already asleep.

Something settled deep in his chest—heavy, uncomfortable.

This wouldn’t last.

You wouldn’t wait forever.

And for the first time, the thought of losing you—of pushing you too far—felt a hell of a lot worse than whatever he was trying to drown at the bottom of a bottle.

---

Logan’s eyes snapped open.

For a second, he was disoriented, still caught in the haze of the dream—no, the memory. He could still feel the warmth of you beside him, still hear your voice, soft and tired, asking him to stay.

But when he blinked, the bedroom was gone.

No mansion. No soft lamp glow.

Just the inside of his truck, the Florida heat creeping in through the cracked window.

Logan let out a slow breath, scrubbing a hand down his face. His body was tense, jaw clenched so tight it ached. The dream had been too real—too damn vivid.

He reached for the flask in the cupholder, unscrewing the cap with steady fingers. He didn’t drink from it. Just held it.

The memory had felt like a lifetime ago. Because it was—but not his. Not this Logan’s.

It was hers.

The woman who wasn’t his Y/N but still had the same voice, the same eyes, the same way of looking at him like he was something worth waiting for.

Except this time?

She wasn’t waiting.

And Logan wasn’t sure if he was ready for what that meant.

---

For the first time in weeks, Logan wasn’t there.

You didn’t see him leaning against his truck outside the school. He wasn’t loitering at the grocery store. He wasn’t in your goddamn peripheral, watching but never pushing, always waiting for you to acknowledge him.

And it pissed you off.

You should’ve been relieved. You had told him to leave, to back off. You had shoved him, yelled at him, made it perfectly clear that you didn’t need him here—didn’t want him here.

So why the hell did your chest feel tight?

Why did you keep glancing out the window when you left work, expecting to see him?

Why did it feel wrong that he wasn’t following?

Laura noticed before you did.

“You’re looking for him,” she said flatly, popping a fry into her mouth as the two of you sat at a booth in some local diner.

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

Laura gave you a look over the rim of her milkshake. “Logan.”

You scoffed, picking at the label of your water bottle. “I’m not���”

“Yeah, you are.” She dipped a fry in ketchup, not even trying to hide her smirk. “You’ve checked the door, like, five times.”

You rolled your eyes. “I was looking at the—” You stopped, realizing you had absolutely nothing to follow that up with.

Laura arched a brow. “Right.”

You huffed, slouching back against the booth. “He’s not here.”

“Yeah. Because you told him to leave.”

“So?”

Laura shrugged. “Didn’t think he actually would, did you?”

You didn’t answer.

Because the truth was, you hadn’t expected him to leave. Logan was stubborn. Logan didn’t give up. If anything, you had expected him to show up again, keep pushing, keep trying to get you to talk.

But he hadn’t.

And for some reason, that scared you.

Laura sighed, wiping her hands on a napkin before leaning forward. “You can’t have it both ways, you know.”

Your brow furrowed. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means you can’t tell him to leave and then get all weird when he actually does.”

You clenched your jaw. “I didn’t want him here.”

Laura tilted her head. “Didn’t you?”

You stared at her, stomach twisting, because you didn’t want him here—did you?

No. You didn’t.

But you didn’t want him gone, either.

You stood abruptly, tossing some bills onto the table. “C’mon. We’re leaving.”

Laura just smirked. “Where to?”

You grabbed your jacket. “I need to find Logan.”

---

It didn’t take long.

Logan wasn’t exactly subtle, and you had been trained to track people long before you ever met him. It was almost insulting how easy it was.

His truck was parked outside some shitty motel off the main road, tucked into the shadows near a flickering neon sign.

You could’ve knocked on his door. Could’ve walked right up, demanded an explanation—Why the hell did you listen to me?

But you didn’t.

Instead, you waited.

You sat in your car across the street, watching from the shadows, waiting to see if he’d leave. If he’d drive off, if he was planning on staying. If he was really, actually gone.

But Logan never left.

Hours passed. The motel lights flickered. You saw him once—stepping outside just long enough to smoke a cigarette before heading back in. No sign of him packing up, no sign of him driving away.

He wasn’t following you anymore.

But he hadn’t left, either.

You exhaled slowly, gripping the steering wheel.

This was the first time in months that Logan wasn’t hovering just outside your reach. And yet, you had tracked him down anyway.

Maybe Laura was right.

Maybe you hadn’t wanted him to leave.

Not really.

You ran a hand through your hair, exhaling sharply as you stared at Logan’s truck.

What the hell am I doing?

You had spent months trying to get him to leave, and now here you were, parked outside some shitty motel like some stalker, watching and waiting. For what? For him to notice? For him to come back?

No. That wasn’t what you wanted.

You gritted your teeth, fingers drumming against the steering wheel. Then why are you still here?

You could just drive away. Go back home, pretend like you never saw him, pretend like this didn’t bother you.

But it did.

It bothered you that he listened. It bothered you that he left. It bothered you that, for the first time since he showed up, he wasn’t pushing you.

And you didn’t know why that scared you.

With a frustrated sigh, you shoved the door open and got out, the night air thick and humid around you. The gravel crunched beneath your boots as you crossed the street, your steps quick and deliberate.

You didn’t give yourself time to hesitate. If you thought about it too much, you’d turn back. And you weren’t ready to do that yet.

You knocked on the motel door.

Silence.

Your jaw clenched, and you knocked again—louder this time.

Still nothing.

A flicker of irritation ran through you. “Logan, open the damn door.”

Nothing.

Your patience snapped. You grabbed the doorknob and twisted. It was locked, of course, but that was never a problem for you. With a practiced flick of your wrist, you popped the lock and shoved the door open.

Logan was inside, sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, a cigar burning between his fingers. He didn’t look surprised to see you. If anything, he looked tired.

“Real subtle, darlin’,” he muttered, exhaling smoke through his nose.

You crossed your arms. “You weren’t answering.”

“Didn’t feel like talkin’.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Too bad.”

Logan huffed out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “Figures.”

You stepped inside, kicking the door shut behind you. “You just gonna sit there?”

“What do you want, Y/N?” Logan asked, his voice rough. Not annoyed. Just… tired.

The way he said your name made your stomach twist. You weren’t sure why.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, crossing your arms tighter.

Logan studied you, taking another slow drag from his cigar before stubbing it out in the ashtray. “Then why are you here?”

You shifted on your feet, avoiding his gaze. Because you left. Because I thought I wanted you gone, but now that you are, I—

You shook the thought away, exhaling sharply. “I just… I thought you would’ve left.”

Logan arched a brow. “And that bothered you?”

You hesitated.

That was enough of an answer.

Logan sighed, leaning back against the bed, arms resting behind him. “You told me to back off. So I did.”

You scoffed. “You don’t listen to people.”

Logan smirked slightly. “Guess you ain’t people.”

You hated how easily that threw you off balance.

Your throat tightened. “I don’t—”

“I ain’t askin’ for anything,” Logan said, cutting you off. “Not chasin’ you. Not pushin’ you. I meant what I said—I don’t wanna force you into anything.”

You swallowed hard. “Then why are you still here?”

Logan’s gaze didn’t waver. “Maybe ‘cause I don’t want to leave, either.”

The air in the room felt heavy. Stifling.

You had spent so much time running, so much time convincing yourself that pushing him away was the only option. But now, standing here, looking at him—tired, frustrated, but still here—you didn’t know what the hell you were supposed to do anymore.

You took a slow breath, forcing your voice to stay steady. “You were… right.”

His brows furrowed slightly, like he wasn’t sure what part you were referring to.

You swallowed, crossing your arms tighter over your chest. “What you said. About grief. About moving on feeling like a sin.”

Logan stayed quiet, but his gaze sharpened, locking onto yours.

You exhaled, shaking your head. “I spent years running because it was easier. Because if I stopped, if I let myself…” You trailed off, fingers curling around your arms. “Then it would feel like I was betraying him. Like I was forgetting him.”

Logan’s jaw tightened slightly, but he didn’t interrupt.

Your throat felt tight, but you forced yourself to keep talking. “I tried to build something new with Laura. I wanted to. And for a while, it worked. Seven years in Canada, we were okay. We were living, not just surviving. And then—” You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “The TVA happened. The Void happened. And suddenly, it was like all that time meant nothing.”

Logan was still watching you, but his expression was unreadable, his hands resting on his thighs as he leaned forward slightly.

“Then you showed up.” Your voice was quieter now. “And I didn’t know what the hell to do with that. Because I knew you weren’t him. I knew that. But every time I looked at you, every time you called me ‘darlin’ and looked at me like you knew me…” You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “It just made me feel like I was losing him all over again.”

“I mean, I can’t even take off my damn wedding ring,” your voice cracked, “without feeling nauseous even though it’s been years.”

Logan’s gaze flicked down to your hand, to the ring still wrapped around your finger. His jaw clenched, something flickering in his eyes—something you didn’t want to name.

“You think that’s wrong?” he asked, voice low.

You swallowed hard. “I don’t know.”

Logan exhaled through his nose, shifting forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. “Ain’t wrong to hold onto what matters.”

Your fingers twitched, curling slightly, but you didn’t look away. “Then why does it feel like it is?”

Logan was quiet for a moment, studying you. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, steadier. “Because you think lettin’ go means losin’ him.”

Your throat tightened, but you didn’t answer.

Logan sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I ain’t gonna tell you to take it off. Ain’t gonna tell you to move on, either.” He leaned back, rubbing a thumb over his knuckles. “That’s gotta be your choice, darlin’.”

Something about that made your stomach twist. Maybe because you had spent so long convincing yourself you had to move on, that moving on meant leaving Logan behind—your Logan. The one who wasn’t sitting in front of you.

But then Logan spoke again, and his next words shattered every bit of resolve you had left.

“You ain’t the only one holdin’ on.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Logan reached into his pocket, pulling something out—something small, something old. He turned it over in his fingers before setting it on the nightstand beside him.

A ring.

Gold, simple, worn from time.

Your stomach flipped.

“I bought this the first time I met you,” he said, voice rough. “A long time ago. Different you. Different me. But you always come back, don’t you?”

You stared at the ring, your heartbeat hammering against your ribs. “Logan—”

“I kept it,” he muttered, rubbing his thumb over the band. “Every time. Even when I knew I’d lose you again.” He exhaled slowly, shaking his head. “And every time, I tell myself I won’t go through it again.”

You swallowed hard. “But you do.”

Logan smirked slightly, but there was no humor behind it. “Yeah. Guess I do.”

Silence settled between you, heavy with everything left unsaid. The motel room felt smaller now, the air thicker. Your fingers twitched at your sides, your chest tight with something you weren’t ready to name.

Finally, you moved.

You walked forward, slow but deliberate, until you were standing right in front of him. Logan didn’t move, didn’t speak, just watched you with that same patient, knowing look.

And then—hesitantly—you sat down next to him.

Not close enough to touch. Not close enough for it to mean anything.

But not far, either.

Logan didn’t say a word.

And for the first time in a long time, neither did you.

---

A few weeks later

You were cooking dinner while drinking a glass of wine—or rather the whole bottle. It wasn’t your fault you had a high alcohol tolerance.

“Jesus, fuck kid!”

“You started it!”

You furrowed your brows, stepping onto the back porch, wine glass still in hand. The salty ocean breeze brushed past as you leaned against the wooden railing, watching Logan and Laura circle each other in the sand.

The backyard—if you could even call it that—was part of a private beach, the stretch of sand leading straight into the rolling waves. Normally, it was peaceful. Right now? Not so much.

Logan huffed, rolling his shoulders. “Yeah, and I’m endin’ it.”

“Doubt it,” Laura smirked before lunging again.

You sighed, watching them spar. To anyone else, it probably looked brutal—claws flashing, sand kicking up with every hit—but you knew better. This was bonding. In the weird, violent, feral way that only the Howlett bloodline could manage.

Laura landed a punch against Logan’s ribs, but he barely flinched. He countered by grabbing her wrist and twisting her to the ground, pinning her for a brief second before she slipped free and jumped back to her feet.

“You two done trying to kill each other?” you called out, swirling the wine in your glass.

Logan scoffed, wiping a bit of sweat from his brow. “She’s the one that don’t know when to quit.”

Laura grinned, unfazed. “Neither do you.”

You huffed a quiet laugh before pushing off the railing. “Dinner’s almost done. Either finish up or starve.”

Neither of them responded, too caught up in the fight, but you knew they’d trail in soon enough. You turned and walked back inside, closing the sliding door behind you.

What you didn’t see was Laura catching Logan staring at your ass as you walked away.

She paused, then turned slowly toward him.

Logan blinked, realizing too late that he’d been caught.

“…Don’t,” he warned.

Laura smirked. “Too late.”

Then she lunged—only this time, it wasn’t part of the fight. She jumped onto his back, wrapping her arms around his neck, and before Logan could react, she drove her foot claws into his ribs.

“Mother—fuck!”

Laura hopped off, landing perfectly on the sand while Logan stumbled forward, clutching his side. Blood bloomed beneath his shirt.

“That’s what you get,” Laura said simply, brushing sand off her hands.

Logan glared at her. “For what?!”

“For being gross.”

Logan clenched his jaw, nostrils flaring. “I wasn’t—”

“Yeah, you were.” Laura crossed her arms, looking unimpressed. “Don’t do it again.”

Logan groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Jesus Christ, kid.”

Laura just smirked, turning toward the house. “C’mon, old man. Before she yells at us for being late.”

Logan sighed, running a hand through his hair before following her inside.

By the time they stepped into the house, you were already setting plates on the table. You barely glanced up—until you noticed the two fresh blood spots on Logan’s shirt.

You exhaled sharply through your nose. “Сраные идиоты,” you muttered under your breath.

Logan frowned. “What?”

“Nothing,” you said flatly. “Sit.”

Logan sighed, knowing better than to argue. He pulled out a chair and sat down, peeling off his shirt with a wince. Laura dropped into the seat across from him, completely unbothered, already helping herself to food.

---

You took another sip of coffee, leaning against the kitchen counter, watching as Laura shoveled cereal into her mouth at a pace that should’ve been illegal. Across the room, Logan sat in a chair, looking far too at home with his cup of coffee, flipping through the newspaper like it was 1954.

It was normal. Too normal.

You narrowed your eyes. “Why the hell are you reading the paper?”

Logan didn’t look up. “Why the hell are you watchin’ me read the paper?”

Laura snorted, not even trying to hide her smirk. “He’s got a point.”

You rolled your eyes, taking another sip of coffee. “It’s weird.”

Logan finally looked up from his paper, brow raised. “What’s weird?”

“You,” you said, motioning at him with your mug. “Sitting there, reading the paper like some suburban dad in a toothpaste commercial.”

Logan smirked, flicking the edge of the page. “It’s called keepin’ up with the world, sweetheart.”

Laura snorted. “You’re reading the classifieds.”

Logan flipped the paper shut with a sigh. “Well, excuse me for enjoyin’ the simple things.”

You shook your head, amused. It had only been a few weeks since he stopped lurking in the background and actually started integrating into your lives. He had a habit of acting like he didn’t belong—like he was just passing through, despite all evidence to the contrary. But moments like these, sitting at the kitchen table, bickering over nothing? They felt normal.

Not forced. Not heavy. Just… easy.

You were about to tease him again when the sound of a car horn blasted through the quiet morning.

Laura groaned. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Logan frowned, setting the paper aside. “Who the hell—”

Another honk. Longer this time.

“Motherfu—” You set your coffee down and turned toward the door, already knowing exactly who it was.

Logan followed, his expression somewhere between annoyed and resigned. “You expecting company?”

You grabbed the shotgun from beside the door, checking the chamber. “Nope.”

Laura smirked, leaning against the counter. “I call headshot.”

You smirked back. “Good luck. I’m faster.”

Logan sighed, rubbing his temples. “Jesus Christ. Just don’t kill ‘im.”

“No promises.”

You stepped onto the porch, raising the shotgun as you caught sight of Wade, standing beside his beat-up rental car, arms outstretched like some kind of messiah.

“Hello, my beautiful, homicidal family!” he called, grinning under his mask.

You pulled the trigger.

The first shot hit him square in the chest.

He staggered back, wheezing. “Okay—ow.”

You pumped the shotgun and fired again, this time hitting his shoulder.

Wade groaned, clutching his arm. “Rude!”

Logan stepped onto the porch behind you, arms crossed. “Really?”

You shrugged, pumping the shotgun again. “He’s still standing.”

Wade held up a finger. “Technically, I’m swaying.”

Laura stepped outside, standing next to Logan. “You missed his head.”

You rolled your eyes. “I didn’t miss. I’m savoring it.”

Wade straightened, shaking out his arms. “Alright, I deserved that. Maybe. Probably not. But—” He put his hands on his hips. “Didn’t expect the welcoming committee to include bullets.”

“You helped him find us,” you reminded him, motioning toward Logan with the barrel of the gun. “And then you just disappeared.”

Wade gasped. “Disappeared? Sweetheart, I gave you your own personal brooding, clawed man-child and then respectfully stepped aside so you could work through your very complicated feelings.” He tilted his head. “Which, judging by the tension on this porch, you’re still working through.”

You aimed the shotgun at his head.

“Okay! Okay!” Wade put his hands up. “I come in peace! No missions, no TVA bullshit, no looming apocalyptic threats. Just little old me, paying a visit to my favorite dysfunctional murder family.”

Laura tilted her head. “You brought gifts?”

Wade paused. “No.”

Laura looked at you. “Shoot him again.”

“Gladly.”

Logan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Let the idiot talk before you put another hole in him.”

You exhaled sharply but lowered the gun. “Fine. Five minutes.”

Wade dusted himself off, cracking his neck. “I can work with that.” He strolled past you and into the house like he owned the place.

Logan shot you a look.

You just shrugged. “I’ll reload.”

Logan exhaled sharply, shaking his head as Wade strolled inside like he owned the place. You followed, setting the shotgun back in its usual spot near the door, but you kept an eye on Wade as he plopped onto the couch, boots kicked up on the coffee table like he belonged there.

Laura sat back down at the kitchen counter, spooning more cereal into her mouth as she watched the interaction unfold like a live-action sitcom.

Logan crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. “So? You gonna explain why you’re here, or am I just supposed to shoot you myself?”

Wade sighed dramatically, tilting his head back. “Wow. No ‘Hey, Wade, long time no see!’ No ‘How’s life treating you, Wade?’ Just straight to the violence. And after everything I’ve done for you.”

“You didn’t do shit,” Logan muttered.

Wade gasped, clutching his chest. “I helped you find your long-lost murder wife and stabby daughter! And this is the thanks I get?”

You narrowed your eyes. “You helped him track us, then bailed. So yeah, not exactly getting a warm welcome.”

Wade sat up, waving a dismissive hand. “Oh, please. You two needed time to work through your very complicated emotions without my handsome, charming self getting in the way.” He glanced at Laura. “Right, stabby junior?”

Laura scooped another spoonful of cereal into her mouth. “Don’t call me that.”

“See?” Wade pointed at her. “Bonding. Growth. Character development. I did you all a favor.”

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose. “You got five minutes to explain why you’re here before I throw your ass back outside.”

“Fine, fine.” Wade rolled his shoulders. “Like I said, no missions, no apocalyptic disasters, no TVA crap. I just thought, ‘Hey, it’s been a minute since I’ve seen my two favorite feral murderers and their grumpy third wheel—why not drop in?’”

Laura swallowed her bite of cereal. “You came all this way for that?”

“Yes!” Wade threw his hands up. “Is it a crime to want to visit family?”

You scoffed. “We’re not family.”

“Well, no, but emotionally? Spiritually? Definitely.” Wade turned to Logan. “Especially you, big guy. We’ve got history. We’ve been through things. We’ve murdered people together. That’s a bond you don’t just throw away.”

Logan groaned. “Christ.”

Laura wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “You got a hotel or something?”

Wade grinned under the mask. “I was actually thinking I’d crash here.”

You, Logan, and Laura all responded in unison.

“No.”

Wade groaned, flopping back onto the couch. “You people have no hospitality.”

“We have boundaries,” you corrected.

“And I have a deep, unrelenting need to be included in your lives,” Wade countered, making himself comfortable.

Logan pushed off the wall. “You’re leavin’ in an hour.”

“Oh, c’mon, Logan, don’t be like that,” Wade whined. “I brought snacks.” He reached into his utility belt, pulling out a crumpled bag of gas station gummy bears.

Laura stared at them. “Are those even sealed?”

“Nope.” Wade shook the bag. “Still good, though.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Jesus, Wade.”

“What? It’s the thought that counts.” He sat up again, stretching his arms. “So, what’ve you lovebirds been up to?”

“Don’t start,” you warned.

Wade leaned in, resting his chin on his hands. “Oh, I’m starting. I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. And let me tell you—there’s a whole lot of unresolved, slow-burn, will-they-won’t-they going on.”

Logan scowled. “Ain’t shit goin’ on.”

Wade gasped. “So you admit there could be something going on?”

Logan turned to you. “Can I kill him?”

You took a sip of your coffee, considering it. “I mean, he’d just come back.”

Laura stood, grabbing her backpack from the counter. “I’m going to the beach. I don’t have the patience for this.”

Wade pouted. “Aww, leaving so soon?”

Laura slung her bag over her shoulder, grabbing an apple from the counter. “Yeah. Before I commit an actual homicide.”

You motioned toward the door with your coffee mug. “Have fun, don’t kill anyone.”

Laura pointed at Wade. “No promises if he follows me.”

Wade placed a hand over his heart. “I would never.”

Laura shot him a look before heading out, leaving the three of you alone.

Wade stretched his arms over his head. “Sooo… what’s next? Movie night? Group therapy? A good ol’ fashioned team-building exercise?”

Logan grabbed him by the back of his suit, hauling him toward the door.

“Alright, alright! I get it!” Wade protested, feet dragging against the floor. “I’ll leave! But just know this—I will be back. Because deep down, you all love me.”

Logan yanked the door open and shoved him outside.

Wade turned back, wagging a finger. “This isn’t over.”

Logan slammed the door shut.

Silence.

You took a sip of coffee. “Ten bucks says he comes back in an hour.”

Logan sighed. “I hate that you’re probably right.”

---

The smell of fresh coffee drifts through the small kitchen as you rummage in a cabinet for cereal. Laura, half-asleep in an old T-shirt and shorts, slumps at the table with her chin propped on one hand. Across from her, Logan reads the newspaper, though he’s not really turning the pages—more like staring at the same article, his focus wandering.

You pull out the cereal box, shaking it to confirm it still has something inside. “Any of you want a bowl, or am I the only one who still eats this?”

Laura mumbles without lifting her head, “I’ll take some. Didn’t we run out of milk yesterday?”

Logan finally looks up, folding the paper. “I grabbed some on the way home last night.”

You tilt your head, somewhat surprised. “You did?”

He shrugs, like it’s nothing. “Figured you two would appreciate not startin’ the day with black coffee and dry cereal.” He sets the newspaper aside, standing to help. “I’ll grab it.”

Laura lifts her head, eyeing the two of you with mild suspicion. “That’s… domestic.”

Logan huffs a soft laugh, opening the fridge. “You callin’ me soft, kid?”

She smirks, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Just making an observation.”

You slide a bowl across to her. “Say thank you, or he’s never doing anything nice again.”

Logan snorts, pouring milk into your bowl first. “You sayin’ I’m not nice?”

Laura just raises a brow. “You’re nice in a grumpy, borderline-feral way, sure.”

You stifle a laugh, taking the milk carton from Logan to finish up Laura’s bowl. “Settle down, you two. It’s too early for bickering.”

Laura mumbles a reluctant, “Thanks,” before digging in.

Logan leans against the counter, sipping from a mug of coffee. For a moment, there’s a quiet ease in the room: Laura’s crunching cereal, you adding sugar to your cup, the morning sun filtering through the windows. No drama, no big conversations—just normal, daily life.

Finally, Laura sets her spoon down, glancing at Logan over the rim of her bowl. “So… you’re picking me up after I’m done, right?”

Logan nods. “Figured I’d swing by. Unless you’d rather walk?”

She wrinkles her nose. “It’s like a hundred degrees. I’ll take the ride.”

You snort into your coffee. “Told you that you shouldn’t wear all black if you’re worried about the heat, muñeca.”

Laura shoots you a light glare, but there’s no real heat behind it. “I like black.”

Logan smirks, finishing the last of his coffee. “Kinda partial to it myself.”

Laura gestures at both your outfits—yours is a faded tank top and shorts, Logan’s wearing his usual jeans and a T-shirt. “We need a family shopping trip, or something. This color scheme is depressing.”

You exchange a glance with Logan, both of you raising a brow.

“Look, we’re not exactly the pastel type,” you say, shrugging.

Laura just sighs dramatically. “Fine. I’ll be the fashion icon in this house.”

Logan folds his arms, feigning seriousness. “I can’t wait to see what horrors you drag us into.”

---

Not long after breakfast, you find yourself sorting through a pile of laundry in the living room, music playing softly from an old radio. Logan wanders in from the porch, running a hand through his hair.

“Got your towels on the line,” he says, plopping down on the couch. “They should be dry by lunch.”

You raise a brow, folding one of Laura’s T-shirts. “Look at you, all domesticated.”

He grunts. “I know how to hang a towel.”

“Sure you do,” you tease, giving him a sideways look. “Next step: vacuuming.”

He picks an invisible speck of lint off his jeans. “Don’t push it.”

You fight a grin, focusing back on the laundry. It’s quiet for a bit, just the low hum of the radio filling the space.

Eventually, Logan clears his throat. “I was thinkin’,” he starts, somewhat hesitant. “We could grill tonight. Might as well enjoy the weather before it gets too hot.”

You pause, glancing his way. “Sounds good. Laura’s meeting with her friends later, but she’ll be back for dinner. We can pick up some extra stuff at the store.”

Logan nods, draping an arm over the couch. His gaze lingers on you a moment, like he wants to say more but isn’t sure how. Then he just nods again, quietly content.

You manage a small smile, folding another shirt. “Guess we’re doin’ normal pretty well these days, huh?”

“Could get used to it,” he murmurs, voice low.

Your eyes meet for just a second, something unspoken passing between you. Then you clear your throat, toss the shirt aside, and stand up. “Well, if we’re grilling, we might need marinade, and we’re nearly out of vegetables. Let’s go before the midday rush.”

Logan pushes himself up. “You want me to drive?”

You think it over, shrug, and toss him the keys. “Sure. Just… try not to side-swipe every car you pass.”

He catches the keys effortlessly, rolling his eyes. “I’m not that bad.”

“Says the guy who nearly took out a stop sign last week,” you retort, but there’s a teasing note in your voice.

He shakes his head, slipping on his boots. “You done with that laundry?”

“For now. Let’s leave it for Laura.”

Logan smirks. “Smart.”

---

Back from the store, groceries in tow, you find Laura sprawled on the couch, a book open on her lap. She looks up when you and Logan enter, arms loaded with bags.

“You got the stuff for the grill?” she asks, nose wrinkling. “Because all I see is lettuce.”

You frown, glancing down at your bags. “There’s more than lettuce, muñeca. Where’s the gratitude?”

She shrugs, turning a page. “Thanks, Mom.”

Logan sets his own bags on the counter with a grunt. “Everything else is in here, including that weird juice you like.”

Laura closes her book, swinging her legs off the couch. “You found it?”

He nods. “Took me five minutes to track it down, but yeah.”

A genuine smile creeps onto Laura’s face—rare, but it’s there. “Cool. Thanks.”

You give Logan a light nudge with your elbow, meeting his gaze and mouthing a silent “good job.” He just smirks, busies himself with unloading the groceries. For a fleeting moment, the three of you fill the small kitchen in quiet coordination—hands passing off produce, storing items in the pantry, the rustle of plastic bags and shuffle of feet the only sounds.

Eventually, Laura heads back to the couch, flipping open her textbook once more. You and Logan exchange a small, knowing look. No big conversation necessary—just an unspoken acknowledgment that this is how life is now: mostly ordinary, sometimes chaotic, but it works.

---

The storm rolls in fast, the Florida heat giving way to thick clouds and distant thunder. The air is dense with the smell of rain, the first few drops tapping against the windows as you toss a towel over the back of a chair.

“You get the towels inside?” you ask, glancing at Logan, who’s standing near the back door, watching the sky darken.

He grunts. “Got most of ‘em before the wind picked up. One got away.”

You arch a brow. “Got away?”

“Flew into the ocean.”

You huff a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “So much for that one.”

Outside, the wind picks up, bending the palm trees as the rain comes in steady now, streaking against the glass. Logan watches it for a moment longer before turning back to you. “Laura still at her friend’s?”

You nod, checking your phone. “She texted a little while ago. Said she’ll head back once the rain dies down.”

Logan doesn’t say anything, but you can tell he’s already debating whether or not to go pick her up himself. You shoot him a look before he can suggest it. “She’s fine.”

Logan rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue. Instead, he moves toward the fridge, pulling out a beer. “You eaten yet?”

You smirk. “That your way of asking if I’m making dinner?”

He cracks the bottle open, leaning against the counter. “Just curious.”

You shake your head, pulling open a cabinet. “We got leftovers from last night, or you can figure it out yourself.”

Logan takes a swig, watching you for a beat. “You really gonna make me fend for myself?”

“You’re a grown man, Logan.” You grab a bag of chips, plopping onto the couch. “Figure it out.”

Logan makes a low noise in his throat—something between a scoff and a chuckle—but he doesn’t move right away. He just watches you, something unreadable in his expression. You pretend not to notice, flicking on the TV, scrolling through the channels.

The storm grows louder outside, wind rattling against the house. Logan finally moves, taking his beer with him as he drops onto the couch beside you. The cushions dip under his weight, the space between you smaller than it was a moment ago.

For a while, neither of you speak. The TV flickers with whatever show you landed on, voices blending with the steady hum of rain. It’s comfortable, easy—until you realize Logan isn’t really watching.

You glance at him. “You good?”

Logan exhales through his nose, gaze still on the screen but unfocused. “Yeah.”

You tilt your head slightly. “Liar.”

He smirks, finally looking at you. “You always call me out on my shit?”

“Only when it’s obvious.”

His smirk lingers for half a second before fading. He takes another drink, resting the bottle against his thigh. “Just been thinkin’.”

You hum, reaching for another chip. “That’s dangerous.”

Logan snorts, shaking his head. “Smartass.”

You grin, but the amusement doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Because you know whatever’s on his mind, it’s not light. Not casual. Logan doesn’t bring things up unless they’re already weighing him down.

You shift, turning to face him properly. “What’s up?”

Logan runs a hand through his hair, exhaling. “This—” He gestures vaguely between the two of you. “It’s been… good.”

You blink, caught off guard. “Okay…”

His jaw tightens slightly, like he’s choosing his words carefully. “I ain’t used to it.”

You hesitate, fingers curling slightly against your leg. “Used to what?”

Logan glances at you, then looks away. “Not havin’ to fight.”

The words sit heavy between you. The wind howls outside, the rain beating against the roof in steady waves.

You let out a slow breath. “Yeah. Me neither.”

Logan’s fingers flex around his beer bottle. “Feels like any second now, it’s gonna get ripped out from under us.”

You study him, your stomach twisting at the quiet honesty in his voice. Logan isn’t afraid of a fight. But this? The lack of a fight? That’s unfamiliar territory.

You lean back against the couch, staring at the ceiling. “If it does, we’ll deal with it.”

Logan huffs. “That easy, huh?”

“No,” you admit. “But I’m too tired to do anything else.”

He’s quiet for a beat, then, voice lower—“Tired of me?”

Your chest tightens. You turn your head, meeting his gaze. There’s no teasing in it, no smirk. Just something raw, something cautious. Like he’s bracing himself for whatever you’ll say next.

You shift closer without thinking. “No, Logan,” you say softly. “Not you.”

His eyes flicker—something unreadable passing through them. His hand twitches slightly, like he’s debating reaching for you but stops himself.

You study him for a second longer before deciding you’re done waiting.

You grab his collar and pull him into a kiss.

It’s not soft. Not hesitant. It’s rough, heated—like you’re trying to prove a point neither of you have the words for. Logan exhales sharply through his nose, startled but not resisting. His fingers find your waist, grip firm, steady.

You tilt your head, deepening it, nails curling against his shirt. Logan makes a low noise in his throat—a sound you feel more than hear.

The beer bottle hits the floor with a dull thud, forgotten.

He pulls you onto his lap, hands splayed against your back. The kiss turns almost desperate, years of tension unraveling all at once.

You break away just enough to catch your breath, forehead resting against his. His breathing is uneven, his grip still firm like he’s afraid you’ll pull away completely.

“Thought you were tired,” he mutters, voice rough.

You smirk, brushing your thumb over his jaw. “Of everything but this.”

His fingers flex against your waist. “You sure?”

You tilt his chin up slightly, making sure he’s looking at you when you answer. “Yeah, Logan. I’m sure.”

Something shifts in his expression—something quiet, something settled.

Then he kisses you again, and this time, neither of you hold back.

---

The storm had passed by the time you stirred awake, the humid Florida air creeping in through the open window, mixing with the scent of salt and something undeniably Logan.

You weren’t the type to linger in bed—never had been—but this morning was different. You could feel the warmth of him beside you, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the weight of his arm draped loosely around your waist.

Your muscles ached—not in a bad way, but in the kind of way that made you very aware of what had happened last night.

You exhaled slowly, staring at the ceiling.

No regrets.

But a whole lot of what now?

You shifted slightly, and Logan’s grip tightened just enough to keep you from moving too far. “Where d’you think you’re goin’?”

His voice was thick with sleep, rougher than usual.

You smirked. “Didn’t think you were awake.”

Logan huffed against your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin. “Been awake. Just didn’t wanna move.”

You turned your head slightly, catching the lazy half-smirk tugging at his lips. “Didn’t peg you for the cuddling type.”

Logan grunted. “Ain’t cuddlin’. Just keepin’ you in place.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t try to move again. “Right.”

The room fell into a comfortable silence, the only sound the distant crash of waves outside. Logan’s fingers traced absentminded patterns against your hip, his other arm still tucked beneath his head.

For a moment, it almost felt normal. Like you hadn’t spent months trying to ignore the inevitable.

Then Logan spoke.

“Not gonna lie,” he muttered. “Didn’t think this would happen.”

You arched a brow. “You doubting your own charm?”

He smirked, but there was something quieter beneath it. “Just figured you’d keep runnin’ circles around me first.”

You exhaled through your nose, dragging a hand down your face. “Jesus. I should’ve just left in the middle of the night and really kept you on your toes.”

Logan’s grip tightened slightly. “You wouldn’t.”

You didn’t answer right away. Because he was right.

Logan let out a slow breath, his thumb brushing against your side. “So what now?”

You thought about it. About the last few months, about the way you and Laura had built something here. About the way Logan had been circling your life since the moment he showed up, waiting, watching, never pushing—until last night.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

Logan was quiet for a second, then, “good.”

You smirked. “That easy, huh?”

He huffed. “For once.”

The weight between you didn’t feel as heavy anymore. You weren’t thinking about the past, about the other Logans, about the lives you’d lost before. For once, you weren’t overthinking.

You glanced down at your left hand, the ring still on your finger. You twisted it around, feeling the weight of it—the warmth that had long since faded, but never really left.

Logan didn’t say anything. Didn’t move. Just watched, his jaw tight, his fingers flexing slightly against your hip like he wasn’t sure if he should reach for you or give you space.

You exhaled slowly. Then, before you could talk yourself out of it, you pulled the ring off.

The absence of it was immediate. Like a phantom limb, like something missing that had been part of you for longer than you could remember.

You held it between your fingers, staring at the small, worn band. The gold was a little dull, edges softened from years of wear, of fights, of moments that felt so distant now you weren’t sure if they were even real.

Logan stayed silent, watching.

You swallowed hard, bringing the ring up to your lips, pressing a kiss to the cool metal. A quiet farewell. A promise that none of it had been lost, that it still mattered.

Then, carefully, you set it down on the nightstand.

Logan exhaled through his nose, shifting slightly beside you. “You sure?”

You looked at him. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes—God, his eyes. Like he was bracing himself, waiting for you to regret it, waiting for you to pick it back up, waiting for you to tell him this was a mistake.

But it wasn’t.

You reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. His palm was rough, familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

“I’m sure,” you murmured.

Logan studied you for a long moment, like he was trying to decide if you meant it. Then, after a beat, his shoulders relaxed, just slightly. He turned his hand, squeezing yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

Neither of you said anything after that.

Because for the first time in years, there was nothing left to say.

so i don't know if people caught it, but i thought i would just say it-the whole arc of logan was the fact that he always left his version of reader but this time he stayed. which is the reason he stayed in florida even when reader didn't want him there. i don't know if i made it obvious or not but i thought i would just put it out there

anyways, i hope this lived up to people's expectations :)

[nugatorysheep]

What your favorite SU character says about you but it's just mean as fuck

Steven — How is being a mentally ill, people-pleasing queer going for you? Did your mommy issues and anxiety resolve themselves yet or are you still avoiding therapy?

You either disliked or were neutral about him until he got a neck. You think Future is peak cinema (correct) and can't understand why everyone else hates it. You have a better grasp on this show's characters and themes than most of the people who watched it.

Connie — You were likely the gifted kid in school but a total burn-out now. You either see a lot of yourself in this character (How are those helicopter parents of yours doing? Have you gone no-contact yet?) or you're a normie and boring to sandbox with. Probably both.

You've got a lot of Feelings™️about her and if people don't agree it causes Problems™️. In case no one has told you yet, stop caring what other people think. Your constant virtue signaling to appeal to other normies is a crutch that's just holding you back. It's okay to have fun!!

Stevonnie — You want to fuck this character, though you'd never say that out loud. You like Steven and Connie; maybe you like one more than the other, but you like both at least a little. If you're using them for shipping you're the only person in the entire fandom doing whatever hyper-specific ship you've latched onto.

Rose and or Pink — You really suck as a person! Or you used to suck but you've gotten a lot better and we stan! If you're the former you almost certainly have terrible takes on this show (but not in the way people might think), sorry, I don’t make the rules. Either way, you gotta stop finding ways to bring her back, dawg. She's gone.

Greg — You're a man (positive) and gay as hell. Gentleman on the streets and a fucking freak in the sheets. We stan. Pop off king <3

Garnet — If you headcanon her as acespec she is not actually your favorite, Ruby and Sapphire are your favorite, but you like them both equally so you just say you like Garnet. If you headcanon her as anything else you're definitely shipping her with one of the other gems, probably Pearl or Jasper.

Amethyst — Super chill person. Would be in most people's dream blunt rotation. You're a live and let live kinda guy and I respect that, but you also have no hills you'd die on so you're not the first person anyone goes to if they need serious support. You can get away with misinterpreting this character (on purpose or accidentally) because it's hard to say things about her that most people won't just shrug at and go "yeah that sounds right I guess"

Pearl — You're annoying as hell. You see yourself in this character and that's not a good thing. Your social media presence gives off the same energy as every white woman's Instagram profile. If being a victim was a contest you'd take home the gold.

You think everyone is out to get you. They're not.

You think you're being persecuted. You're not.

Most people who see you from a distance and don't know better think you're alright, so you're probably pretty well-liked in public. The only people you will get along with in close quarters are all walking mean lesbian stereotypes.

Peridot — You're annoying as hell for a different reason. You see yourself in this character too and that is a terrible, terrible thing.

She's your pfp on every website and app that will allow it. Your lifeblood is this fucking character and e v e r y o n e will know it. You're weirdly possessive of her and the hyper specific headcanons you made for her (even if you don't say that) despite every grass-fearing autistic person on the internet projecting onto her, so ironically you don't like other Peridot fans, which always ends up with you sitting alone even on websites with millions of people on them.

90% chance you're a furry, otherkin, therian or think you have DID. You think you're misunderstood, and in some ways you are, but the reality is most people don't speak dog and don't have the time or energy to learn. You need to go outside and learn to speak cat whether you want to or not

Lapis — You don't like Peridot fans or kinnies, which is weirdly in-character. You're the biggest hater but you don't hide it and I can respect that. You think Lapis is a victim, but you're only half right. You would probably fall for propaganda if it was dressed up fancy enough.

Jasper — You want to fuck this character, full stop. There's a 50/50 chance you're chill af or the most insufferable person on the planet. If you're the former you're friends with a lot of people. You float easily from one group to another, but a jack of all trades is a master of none, and you're no one's first pick if they're looking for someone close. You probably hate Lapis and her fans but you should really just let that shit go ngl

Spinel — You need therapy (derogatory) and you're making that everyone else's problem. Despite the clown aesthetic you're not very funny to be around and you should get a better sense of humor. You project onto this character way too hard and it shows in your fandom habits and headcanons, but most of the time that's fine

Like Spinel, you're a little two-faced. Some people pick up on that right away and some don't. The people who do hold you at arms length until you make it clear which clown you'd rather be. You hate it when people ship Spinel with any character besides your favorite pairing, but you'll never say that out loud unless it's a ship the people you're talking to don't like.

Blue Diamond — You're a man (derogatory) or a minor who doesn't actually understand anything about this character yet, and would immediately fall for any and all forms of propaganda

Yellow Diamond — If you think she is wearing a helmet you're a man (derogatory) and you expected things out of SU that were never gonna happen. If you think it's just hair you have a much better grasp on this character than 90% percent of SU's fandom and I'm platonically kissing you on the mouth.

White Diamond — You're a man (derogatory) or an incredibly based and sexy queer.

The Zircons — You like Ace Attorney, or would like it if you haven't played it yet. You're making them kiss sloppy style. UwU

Lars — You probably didn't like him until after he died. You will defend this boy with your fucking life. Also you should just…. go watch Star Trek if you haven't. Seriously what are you doing—

Sadie — You're an oddball. Very lax though. You have complicated feelings about Shep

Peedee — You're a little quirky, a little freaky, but you're too scared to just say that. You desperately need some fun in your life, but the people around you make that difficult. Eventually you'll find the folks that are worth hanging around. See you on the flip side :)

Ronaldo — You're the type of person this character is based on and you take it in stride. If you're shipping him with Lars, you're the only person who's opinion on this character matters.

Kevin — I dunno who hurt you but you have a terrible taste in men. You only have fun in bed if it involves a damn near human rights violation

Mayor Dewey — You're normalbirb

Any other townie — This is a trick question! No one has these as their favorite lmao

[raylynnn]

Make up sex with kirishima💋

Contains ⚠️: smut, little bit of angst, humiliation, biting, choking, marks, spanking, p in v, hair pulling, swearing, rough sex

💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋

You and Kiri didn’t fight much, hardly at all. But one thing Kiri did not play about was your safety. You were both successful pro hero’s making your way up in the charts. But somtimes you forget you and Edjiro are a team, you were so used to doing everything on your own before you met the love of your life Kiri, but now it gets frustrating when he tries to help you, cause in your head you take it as he thinks your incapable. But that’s not the case he just wants to take care of you and let you know he’s there.

So today during patrol when you went up against a villian who clearly had the upper hand on you, and you refused to call backup, oh Edjiro was just upset..he was furious. I mean do you know what could’ve happened to you..? He can’t imagine losing you, your everything to him.

“Babe..please I’m sorry” you mumbled as you walked through the door coming back from the hospital.

Silence. Nothing said or spoken.

You started to grow frustrated. “Kiri..baby please I said I’m sorry you just don’t understand-“

He whipped his head quick. “Don’t understand..? You think I don’t understand what it’s like to feel useless or to feel you could of done more?” You could hear the anger in his voice he wasn’t yelling, he would never yell at you. But he was stern and cold. “I could of lost you Y/n! Do you know what you mean to me?” He said taking a step closer to you. “You think that I think your some weakling! Who can’t do anything on her own..but that’s not true, y/n your the strongest women I know and I know your capable but that doesn’t mean you have to do everything alone..”

You looked up at the red head, tears resting on your waterline as you looked at him. And all the reasons you loved him starting running through your body like water. “Your right..I’m so-“ you were quickly cut off. “Your not sorry..cause you said that last time.” He said grabbing you by the back of your hair he knuckles reaching into your scalp. “Your so stubborn..you know that” his breath was hot against yours and that look in his eye..he was blinded almost.

“Look at me.” He said sternly. “I love you, I love you so much but this behavior cannot keep going..” you raised a brow in curiosity until you felt a harsh smack on your butt. You hissed in pain until he grabbed your jaw firmly. “Forgive me baby..” he said as he swatted your ass again and again..and again. He picked you and threw you over his shoulder like some rag doll and whispered in your ear. “Gotta learn someday love..”

He took you into your shared bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed laying you on your stomach across his lap. He rubbed over the red hand prints as he kissed your lower back. As soon as you thought he was being gentle he yanked you up by your hair making you face him. He ran his fingers playfully under the waistband of your shorts, “yeah baby? You want me to play with you..?” He teased groping your ass playfully.

You nodded eagerly waiting to be touched, to be satisfied. “Is that a yes baby?” You turned your cheek slightly trying to make eye contact as you muttered “yes..please daddy” his cock twitched in his pants as he smirked playfully. He slipped your shorts off followed by your panties, he brought your panties up to his nose as he took a deep inhale. “Fuck gorgeous..can’t wait to lick you clean of your mess baby..”

He picked you up and layed you down on the bed, he bent your legs and spread them wide as he admired you soaked cunt. He swiped 2 fingers through you heat as he watched you jolt. He quickly nudged his face into your heat darting his tongue out to lick and kiss your sweet pussy. You reached your fingers into his hair, pulling and tangling it in between your knuckles. “Fuck! Yes..” you moaned out as you practically grinded against his face.

He smirked against your clit as he brought two fingers up to your entrance and slowly entering one after the other. He was pumping his digits in and out of you like a drill. “Yeah? Does that feel good baby, you like it when daddy’s rough like this?” You couldn’t do anything except nod and squirm. And as Kiri was pumping you full licking up all your sweet nectar all of sudden kiri’s phone started going off. He used his free hand to pick up the phone. It read “Bakugo” he reached for the hang up button but then he gotten a wicked idea.

He handed the phone to you. “Answer this for daddy mhm?” Your eyes widend “n-no! I c-can’t!” He practically forced the phone into your hand. “Answer it or I’ll stop.” He said cold and stern. You answered the phone hesitantly. “H-hello?” You muttered “where’s shitty hair?” He got right to the point. “Hello to y-you too.. um he’s um..” you were lost for words as Kiri just smirked and kept eating you up like his last meal.

“He’s uh showering..w-what’s up?” You asked. “I saw what happened on the news you two idiots ok?” He said with a ounce of care in his tone. “Y-yeah..oh yes~” you relized you fucked up but you quickly recovered “oh y-yes we’re fine!” You stuttered out like a babbling mess. “You good? Your babbling like a mf right now.” Your eyes widened in fear but before you even react Kiri added another finger filling you with 3 fingers now. “FUCK!” You slammed the phone to your chest to muffle your cries. You put the phone back to your ear as you heard a sigh from his side of the call.

“You two are some sick fucks..Jesus just don’t pick up next time” he said behind a sign of discust with a slight chuckle before hanging up. Your eyes widend in embarrassment. “Dammit Edjiro I told you he would k-know!” Edjiro ignored your annoyed groans and continued his assault on your cunt. “Oh please..like you wernt in to it..I felt you get tighter when you knew he found out princess..” he said in a sultry tone and he was right. The idea of being caught terrified you and made you 10x wetter as well.

Bringing your attention back to the starved man between your legs, you felt the knot in your stomach start to break. Your back arched and toes curled as tangled your fingers into his hair even more. “God Kiri~ yes baby! Yes- give it to me..give it to me!” You moaned and whined like a babbling mess, sweat beading down ur forehead and drool dripping from the corner of your mouth as your orgasam hit you like a truck.

As you caught your breath you tucked your hair behind you ear trying to sit up as Kiri sat up onto his knees wiping your arrousal away but before you could even rest against the headboard Kiri had already yanked you towards the bed by your calves as he smacked your heat 1, 2, 3 times fast and hard. “You didn’t think I was done with you yet? Right princess your smarter than that..” he said as he pulled down his sweats flowing that were his boxers. His cock, hard and heavy smacked up against his abdomen. God he looked so good so edible. A sticky mess you just wanted to clean up.

He ran his cock through your folds a few times teasing and taking his time with your needy pussy. “Baby please..need you” you whined. He ignored your pleads and begs. “Oh yea? Then beg baby..unless you don’t really want it that bad..” he said faking a disappointed tone. “No..no want it, want it so much baby..” that wasn’t enough for him though he simply stopped all movements grabbing you by the neck. “Is that the best you got?” He spat.

You reached out for his cock with you small hands as you looked up at with those big doe eyes. “Please daddy..please fill me up with your cock..fuck me till I can’t take it..till I’m screaming and crying like a bitch, stuff me full, fuck do whatever the hell you want to me, I don’t want it unless it’s your cock down my throat..” his eyes widened in excitement as he shoved you impossibly deeper into the mattress, folding you in half placing your ankles by your ears.

“Good fucking girl..” he said before he plowed into you. God you were so tight and vulnerable just a little toy for him to use as he pleased. He drilled into you like a dog in heat, the sound of skin on skin filled the room as he fucked you as if he just got out of prison. “Your In love with this cock arnt cha?” He said pressing his hand on your tummy as he plowed into your sloppy pussy. Your mouth hung wide and eyes lidded with your brow furrowed as you layed their and took it, you were babbling non stop but none of it made sense, he had fucked you dumb and stupid, you just kept blabbering on about how good it felt.

Pathetic.

He pulled out and quickly flipped you onto your stomach before he yanked you up by your hair. “Ass up baby..” he said giving it a firm slap. Before he drilled his cock into you once again. He was fucking you like a damn dog.. and you were fucking loving it. You felt that familiar coil unwind as your legs shook beneath you. “B-baby! S-slow slow down!! T-too much!” You tried to warn it was so strong it almost hurt. But much expected he did t listen or care..he kept hammering into your sweet cunt until fluid started spraying everywhere like a damn faucet.

You were squirming and grinding against him as you squirted all over his cock and he was loving the sight.. “mhm! Fuck yeah baby! Make a mess!” He groaned out as his thrusts got sloppy. “Milk this fucking cock baby oh yeah..oh yeah..” soon after his was filling you full, stuffing you full of his warm sticky cum. You laid their like a corps, exhausted and sore already. But before you knew it Kiri was back to his sweet caring ways. “You ok baby? Did I go to rough honey?” He said caressing your face before giving small gentle pecks all over your face and neck.

“I’m sorry baby..I just..want to keep you safe I had to make sure you understand that your not alone in this or ever baby..ok?” He said grabbing a towel cleaning up the twos of y’all’s mess. “Y-yes..yes baby I understand..I love you so much..” you said intertwining you hand with his.

“I love you more baby..get some rest I’ll put on a movie..” he said as he put your pants back on and snuggled up next to you once again.

[thealogie]

Feeling pretty helpless living in America rn. It just feels like the govt is sitting around perplexed and useless while a literal coup is taking place. What should we be doing??? How can an average person with no political power help at all? I only ask you because you seem to have a good head on your shoulders.

Stop reading the news and start volunteering with a local org. Two things are happening right now (1) this administration is trying to move as loudly as possible and make itself look big, powerful, unprecedented etc. to scare and tire anyone watching into submission and (2) the media (partly because it need the views, partly because it's filled with people who genuinely see it as their duty to do this) are making every single move seem like the most unprecedented thing ever. If you are a person without political power, just forget about any of this.

There are people with political power who (for better or worse...and i gotta say it's usually for worse) are deeply invested in making sure American institutions hold up and they will be the ones trying to stop governmental structures from changing. But the best thing you can do is turn away from that. The best way to gain political power is to take care of your corner of the world. Find something you believe in locally and devote some time to it each week - you will see the world is not ending and that small actions make a difference.

[rollingeevee]

I gotta ask: do you know when exactly the beasts would bite their respective darlings? Like do they just capture them and then *chomp*? Also do the bites have an immediate effect or do the darlings not figure out what's up with the bite until they first try to run away?

Silly little but:

Darling, after getting bit: Freak!!

Darling, after the bite takes effect: Oh shit, that's why you were being freaky...

Hmm… that’s a good question! I feel it would vary for each Beast.

Shadow Milk and Burning Spice I can see doing it ASAP. They see it, they like it, they want it. That bite is happening as soon as they have their darling in their grasp, first chance they get. They don’t care what their darling thinks.

Eternal Sugar I can see somewhat similar, but I feel she would try to kinda play it off? When she takes her darling, she’ll likely try to ease them into a false sense of security. She’s offering you sweets and wants to nap with you? She can’t be that bad, can she? However, she might grow a bit impatient. When you’re napping together, that’s when she bites.

For Mystic Flour and Silent Salt, I can see them using their bites as a last resort. The two of them aren’t as eager to place down their bites unless another Beast is showing interest in what is theirs. However, as soon as they find you after you escape the first time? That’s when they bite. You got close to getting away. They didn’t like that. They gave you a chance, and you squandered it. Now they’re going to ensure you know exactly where you belong. With them.

Also, side note, I got this ask right before I fell asleep so the notif on my phone showed only the first few words and my tired brain read it as “where” instead of “when” and it got my mind going a lil before I passed out so- you’re getting that too! LMAO

Shadow Milk would place his bite on the neck, right below the ear. Sort of symbolic in a way. While his magic can reach your mind from wherever the bite might be, he likes the thought that it’s there, as if he’s always whispering into your ear.

Mystic Flour would place her bite on your inner wrist. She cares the least about where her bite goes, so long as it is on you. Holding your hand to her lips, placing a gentle kiss, before suddenly jerking your hand, exposing your inner wrist, and sinking her teeth in.

Burning Spice’s bite is right on the neck in full view of everyone. He’s not a subtle guy, probs the most straightforward of the five. He’s loud and proud, and his bite would be the same. Right over your jugular where everyone can see it. There’s no hiding it. In a way, it’s also a powerplay. He could easily tear your throat out if he so desired. But he didn’t. Be grateful, little rabbit~

Eternal Sugar would place her bite on her darling’s chest, right above where your heart is. As stated above, she places it when you’re napping together. She’s draped on top of you, using your chest as her pillow. The moment her patience runs out, she’ll your shirt down just enough to expose the area she seeks and bite down.

Silent Salt’s bite is right above the area between your two collarbones below your throat. Centered between your lungs and your vocal cords. While, again, a bite’s placement doesn’t change its effects, they like the symbolism. The thought of stealing your voice, plunging you into silence.

Thank you for sending in an ask! Hope you liked the answer I gave!

[wonubby]

fell in luv - itoshi rin

CHAPTER 02: HOMEWORK SUCKS!

SYPNOSIS Rin Itoshi thought life was all about football—until Y/N L/N and their chaotic group of friends proved otherwise. Now, he’s stuck navigating late-night hangouts, dumb arguments, and way too much teasing—all while somehow being hopelessly in love. It’s a story of laughter, love, and Rin just trying (and failing) to keep his cool.

a/n: HI GUYS please ignore the "prankshit" watermark.. im on laptop so making these are pretty hard

written part after all the pics!

< prev masterlist next >

as the door to rin itoshi's room burst open, four teens stood frozen, mouths agape in shock.

there, in the dim light, was rin—shirtless—locked in a kiss with a fully clothed y/n. at the sudden intrusion, the love-struck pair jolted apart, scrambling in a flustered mess to compose themselves.

eita let out an exasperated sigh, crossing his arms. "and what did i fucking say, riya?" he muttered, clearly salty that no one had listened to him.

riya side-eyed the boy beside her. "okay, eita, congrats. you were right this one time and, for once, not thinking with your dick—no one cares." she turned to y/n. "you promised to help me with my homework, which is why we're here. get up."

without hesitation, riya shoved rin off y/n, earning herself a sharp glare from the irritated striker.

"i thought i told you we were busy," rin grumbled, clearly annoyed that their date had been so rudely interrupted.

y/n, ever the peacemaker, gave him a reassuring smile. "it's fine, rin. i really did promise to help her. once we're done, they'll leave, and we can pick up where we left off."

naomi scratched her neck, glancing awkwardly to the side. "about that... your mom insisted we stay over since it's pretty late. we tried to say no, but she wouldn't let up."

a pillow smacked her straight in the face.

"rin, what the fuck!" naomi screamed, ready to lunge at him if she wasn’t being held back.

"deserved," rin muttered.

eita, watching the chaos unfold, grinned from ear to ear. "this is more entertaining than a movie."

"yeah, and we're the ones stuck in the middle of it," riya shot back, clearly unimpressed by the situation. "thanks, rin."

naomi, now fuming, rubbed her cheek where the pillow had hit. "you guys are unbelievable."

"you were the one who knocked on my door," rin retorted, leaning back on the couch.

"right, and you couldn't just act normal for once?" naomi grumbled.

yukimiya kenyu, who had been quietly observing the drama from the corner, finally spoke up, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "this is why i don't do sleepovers. too much drama."

y/n rolled her eyes from where she was sitting, barely looking up. "yeah, because we all love being dragged into this shitshow," she muttered, taking a swig from her drink. "honestly, i just want to go to sleep."

riya shot her a glare but didn't respond.

"well, we're here now, might as well make it fun, right?" kenyu suggested with a grin, flopping down beside y/n.

y/n shot him a deadpan look. "fun? really? because this feels more like a disaster waiting to happen."

"you're such a buzzkill," eita laughed.

"i'm just being honest," y/n shrugged, clearly uninterested in the idea of any fun.

"so... not even a little fun?" naomi pushed, trying to lighten the mood.

y/n raised an eyebrow. "fun for you guys, maybe."

"oh, come on, y/n," eita whined, nudging her with his elbow. "you gotta admit, this is pretty hilarious."

"i'll admit that you are pretty annoying," y/n shot back, not missing a beat. "but hey, that's nothing new."

riya, now sitting cross-legged on the floor, rolled her eyes. "please don’t start with your crap, y/n. we already have enough chaos without you adding to it."

"chaos?" y/n snorted, raising her glass. "this is a disaster. i don’t know what you’re all on about."

"it's fun in its own way," yukimiya said, finally showing a hint of amusement. "no one's getting hurt. just... loudly inconvenienced."

rin, who had been watching the back-and-forth with mild annoyance, groaned. "i'm literally right here, and you're all treating this like some kind of sitcom."

"you're just mad 'cause we ruined your romantic evening," eita teased, flashing him a smirk. "shoulda locked the door, man."

"next time, maybe i will," rin muttered, sinking back into the couch.

y/n, still leaning back and sipping her drink, shot a look at riya. "so, homework? wanna get it over with so i can leave and pretend this nightmare never happened?"

riya nodded quickly, relief spreading across her face. "finally! thank you!"

the group had somehow made it through the night without any more major drama—though the tension still lingered in the air. the homework was finished (with plenty of y/n’s sarcastic commentary along the way), and now everyone was scattered around the room, occupying the floor or leaning against the walls.

y/n, sprawled out on rin's bed, shot a glance at him, who had finally relaxed. "well, that wasn’t so bad. you can go back to sulking now."

rin raised an eyebrow but said nothing, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.

otoya, leaning against the wall, grinned. "i think we've survived the worst of it. unless rin decides to start throwing stuff again."

"i could. don’t tempt me," rin muttered, his eyes half-closed as he joined y/n on the bed.

naomi, sitting on the floor near the door, raised her head from her phone with a sigh. "so, is this how it’s gonna be now? just... awkward silence until someone explodes?" she asked, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "because i’m already over this whole 'sleepover' vibe."

"you think we’re gonna explode? i think we’re already there," eita said, his voice dry as he kicked his feet up onto a nearby chair. "too many personalities in one room."

"you can always leave, naomi," yukimiya added lazily, glancing up from his phone, a bored look on his face. "not like you’re forced to stay."

naomi shot him a side-eye. "i tried to leave earlier, but someone’s mom insisted we stay over." she shot a look at rin, who only shrugged in response.

y/n let out a loud groan, slumping further into the bed. "this night is like a car crash that just keeps going. i can’t wait for it to end."

"tell me about it," naomi muttered, leaning back against the doorframe. "who knew spending time with you guys would be worse than studying for finals?"

rin sighed. "so this is how it’s gonna be, huh? a bunch of loud idiots trying to make something out of nothing." he shot a glance at y/n. "i mean, i’d prefer some peace too, but this isn’t really the vibe i was expecting."

"well, we’re here now, so suck it up," y/n shot back, not bothering to sit up.

naomi looked at rin, then at y/n, and shook her head. "you two are impossible. you know that, right?"

"impossible?" rin smirked. "you guys were the ones who walked in here uninvited. i wasn’t expecting anything but chaos."

"no kidding," eita chimed in, kicking back in the corner. "next time, let’s not follow y/n’s ‘invite,’ huh?"

yukimiya, who had been unusually quiet, finally spoke up, his voice bored but tinged with amusement. "honestly, i’m just waiting for someone to do something interesting. this is too much talking, not enough action."

otoya snickered. "you’re just waiting for a pillow fight, aren’t you?"

y/n snorted from the bed. "if anyone starts a pillow fight, i’m out. i’m not that desperate for entertainment."

"and there’s the real y/n," riya muttered with a roll of her eyes. "always a pain in the ass."

"thank you, i try," y/n replied sarcastically, finally propping herself up on one elbow.

rin gave her a smirk, clearly used to her attitude. "you really know how to kill the mood, huh?"

"someone’s got to do it," she muttered, smirking back at him. "besides, this whole ‘sleepover’ thing was never my idea of fun."

rin leaned closer, his voice softer, more affectionate. "but you’re stuck with me now."

y/n met his gaze, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "guess i’ll survive," she replied, her tone a mix of sarcasm and something a little sweeter.

rin’s smirk softened into a real smile as he nudged her gently. "you say that now, but i think you’re secretly enjoying it."

y/n rolled her eyes but leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder as the room fell back into a quiet, comfortable lull. despite the chaos, this was somehow the most peaceful moment of the night.

taglist: @levihanmyotp @x3nafix @@yourlocaleffy

[r4fe-cam3ron]

𓍯 ִֶָ FEBRUARY FIFTH; side b — nothing can change this love - sam cooke | divorced dad!e. munson x reader

w; flangst(?) mostly angst who am i kidding, divorced parents core — except they get along, both are still in love!!!! an; when i saw this picture, i knew i had to use it plus add a scene about how eddie was holding r like that </3 actually enjoyed this one:,)

mixtape here!

“Baby, be careful!” You call out to the running girl with pigtails. She easily hops over the building her brother had left spread out on the floor while he uses the bathroom. 

She opens the door, squeaking when she sees Eddie — a daddy’s girl, for sure. Eddie chuckles and picks her up from the porch. “You gotta listen to mommy, Parker. And it’s cold out, where’s your shoes?” 

You glance at Eddie when he steps in, but look away quickly. He shuts the door behind himself, pulling the beanie from his head. He glances at you. “You look nice.” 

It’s just something you threw on for dinner, and a quick makeup look so Parker and Colin weren’t in the living room by themselves too long. “Thanks. You do too.” You nod. 

He gives a tight smile, before looking at Parker. “And look at you! Are you ready to go out for dinner?” 

“Yes!” She claps. Eddie chuckles softly. 

“Did you and your brother pick a restaurant yet?” 

She grins and swings her feet. “Enzo’s,” Eddie groans playfully. “Daddy! It’s yummy! And they have noodles!” Her tiny hands press against his cold cheeks. 

“Okay…Okay, but next time mommy gets to pick. You both have picked that out four times in a row.”

Both Eddie and yourself had agreed to do dinners together on weekends and holidays — even including valentine’s day. Eddie was hesitant, but you were insistent on the kids knowing that you both could still get along, even under the circumstances. 

He eventually agreed. 

He knew it would be hard to go through a dinner with his family, as if it were like old times, because…well, he still loves you deeply. 

Colin finally hops off the last step and begins picking up his toys. You smile and kneel down to help. “Thanks for picking up, love.” 

Colin smiles and nods, sliding the box back into its place. “Alright, shoes! Where are they?” Eddie begins to turn animatedly, making Parker laugh and quickly hold onto the leather jacket he was wearing. 

“There!” She points quickly. Eddie lets out a playful breath. 

“Thank goodness.” He steps over and grabs her little hi-top converse before walking towards the couch and plopping down. 

“I’m going to go touch up a bit and slip my shoes on.” 

Eddie looks over at you quickly, nodding as he gives you a small smile. “Yeah. That’s fine.” 

You nod and walk towards the steps. Eddie looks back at Parker’s shoe, a frown now pulling at his lips. “You okay, daddy?”

Eddie quickly peeks up at the girl. He stares at her for a moment. She’d gotten his hair — wild curls, a deep brown, but her face was yours. He smiles softly, pushing a strand of hair from her long lashes nodding. 

“I’m okay, baby,” He then looks over at Colin once he finishes and pulls him close, giving him a hug. “How was school? You give Kacey that—”

“Shhh!” Colin quickly shushes Eddie. Eddie’s eyes widened slightly. “Mama doesn’t know.” He whispers. 

“Oh, right,” Eddie winces as he nods. “Sorry, bud. But, how was school?” He lifts his brows. Did you give that Valentine's card to Kacey? It’s a silent question that Colin picks up on quickly. 

Colin grins then. “Good.” He nods. I did. She looooved it. 

Eddie snorts a bit, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, standing. “Alright. You wanna get in the car? That way we can leave when mom gets finished?” 

They both agree and quickly walk towards the coatrack. Eddie stands from the couch. “We’ll be outside warming up the car!” He calls out. 

“Alright! I’ll be finished in a second!” 

Leaving it at that, Eddie and the kids head to the car. He’s quick to turn on the heat before buckling in both of them, slipping into the car. 

You finally slip into the passenger seat, quickly buckling up. “Sorry.” 

Eddie looks at you, the words he wants to say escaping him for a moment when he does. You look too beautiful — and it literally takes away his breath. He gulps quietly, blinking. You let out a small sigh, glancing back at Parker and Colin before looking over at Eddie. “You okay?” 

He stares for a moment long before shaking his head. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s go.” 

You frown, watching as he backs out of the driveway quickly. 

—

“Thanks for helping me carry them in.” You hang up the kids coats that Eddie brings down the stairs. 

He nods, watching as you slip off your heels, kicking them over to the coffee table as he slips his hands into his pockets. “Yeah. Of course.”

You step into the kitchen. “You want a drink?” You grab a wine glass, holding it up and shaking it. 

It’s a bad idea, but he nods and slips off his jacket. You grab an extra one and the wine, walking back into the living room. 

“Oh, drinking in the living room, huh?” He walks over and sits by you with a small smirk. You roll your eyes and hand him a glass. 

“It’s a holiday.” 

You just really didn’t feel like sitting at a table again. Eddie snorts and allows his arm to lay across the back of the couch, taking a sip. You're silent for a moment, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth. 

“Would you…want to dance?” He asks quietly. 

You look over at him. “You hate dancing.” 

He winces a bit at all the times you’d asked him to dance with you, yet, he’d always find excuses — finally landing on I hate dancing, you know that as a ‘reason’. 

Now he wants to dance with you — even if it’s only this once. 

“It’s a holiday.” He places the cup down, walking towards the radio that you had set up next to a chair. He flips through a couple of channels, pausing as Sam Cooke’s ‘Nothing Can Change This Love’ starts to play. He gulps a bit, eyes glancing back at you. 

You stare at the radio as it begins to play — your wedding playing in the forefront of your mind, the same melody playing out. 

You finally look up at Eddie when his hand is outstretched for yours. Sitting the wine down, you slip your hand into his as he pulls you from the couch, walking towards the dim part of the room. 

“We don’t—”

“Be quiet.” He mutters. You nod, allowing yourself to slide your hands up his biceps. He’d been working out a tiny bit — you could tell. He’d cut his hair after the second month of the divorce. You felt a twinge of sadness when he showed up to pick up the kids that day. 

His hands pull you close, resting on your sides as they slowly wrap around — his left hand sliding up between your shoulder blades. 

One hand lingers on his bicep while the other has a mind of its own, sliding upwards as it rests on the back of his neck. You sway with him, leaning forward and resting your forehead against his cheek. 

He tilts his head a bit, gripping you softly. Your nose nudges the underside of his jaw, eyes slipping closed as your heart feels as if it’s breaking in your chest. 

Your chin quivers, body moving closer as you wrap both arms around his neck now, a hand resting in his curls. His brows pinch together, tightening his grip on you, this time not releasing. He doesn’t know if you feel uncomfortable, but he won’t pull away until you ask him too. 

He’s holding you as if you’d slip away. He doesn’t want to lose you a second time. 

His nose presses against your temple when his lips brush over your cheekbone. “Do you want me to—”

Your own grip tightens and he feels a tear drop onto his neck. “No. No, please don’t let me go,” You whisper, your voice cracking as you speak. “Please.” The hand on the back of his head even tightens slightly. 

You’d both stop moving, now only swaying in place. Eddie nods, trying to bring you closer if he could — he wanted to melt into you. But he couldn’t, so this would have to suffice. Your chest heaves against his with panicked breaths. 

“It’s okay…Breathe…breathe for me, sweetheart. I’m not letting you go,” He presses his lips to your cheek softly. “I’m not. It’s okay. I’m here.” He whispers. 

You nod your head a bit jerkily against his shoulder, your hand gripping at his shirt, wrinkling the material. Eddie didn’t care — if it was something to ground yourself, to make sure you know he’s still there with you, that he’s not letting go, he’d let you do whatever. 

He pushes away the hair that covers your face without pulling his face away from yours, holding the back of your neck. 

“I’m here. I’m not letting you go.” He whispers. 

𓍯 ִֶָ tags; @ali-r3n — @marchsfreakshow — @sstar-ggirl — @love-quinn

𓍯 ִֶ thank you for reading! comments, reblogs, & feedback are welcome & greatly appreciated!

[nawoken]

im back with more thoughts on soulbound au. Wjat if reader's Soulmate got isekaied to twst and expected reader to return to them cuz theyre soulmates as if they didnt just reject the name on their wrist, as if they have the right to just demand it even as reader is with the first years now (excluding ortho grim). How would the boys react to reader just snapping and declaring they feel no love for soulmate. That they love their current partner instead. I can imagine some of them just gloating and acting like a really doting partner in front of the soulmate like "look what you cant have"

Bonus for grim and ortho like "who needs you when i have my feral cat/technological humanoid built by a genius. Get his ass!" And they just send grim and ortho out like pokemons LMAO

Love yourself

(TWST x Broken Soulbond! Reader)

5.C: Hehe, I’m glad u have the same thought as mine, Mortal~

Because as petty as I am, since the moment I had the idea for this AU, I already have the scene where your Soulmate by some way gets to TWST and wants the reader back but gets rejected by them.

I mean, who do they think they are, broke the strongest bond in the world and then came back and demanded it like they deserve it?!

The name has two meanings since the content of this one chapter reminded me of "Love Yourself" by Justin Bieber as something reader would want to tell their Soulmate. The other is just simply loving yourself, something I want to tell you guys and myself.

Pairing: Ace Trappolar; Deuce Spade x g/n Reader

I will do the other later I guess, sorry for the late update, I have writer's block for this one, including my absence due to January cause I have a school break.

Warning: :D)

The moment your Soulmate lands their ass at TWST, you can feel the tug in your heart, the arch, the itch of your Soulmark, and the familiar pulling come from your soul that you’ve almost forgotten during your stay at twisted wonderland. That’s how you know they’re here, and they also feel your faint presence.

The moment your Soulmate lands their ass at TWST, you can feel the tug in your heart, the arch, the itch of your Soulmark, and the familiar pulling come from your soul that you’ve almost forgotten during your stay at twisted wonderland. That’s how you know they’re here, and they also feel your faint presence.

Ace Trappola:

He is unhappy when hearing that your Soulmate has spawned in TWST. (Let’s be real, all of them are, maybe except Kalim or Vil…)

He is sulking the whole way both of you walk to the Headmage office cause apparently, your Soulmate demands to see you the moment they know you’re here.

Ace refuses to let you meet that person alone, Crowley? That crow can not be trusted.

Hearing them ask you to go back, with them, and by their side. Ace glares hard as if if he tries enough, that person will disappear.

They, in fact, do not disappear though.

Plan B, Ace starts to make some comments, he is sarcastic about your Soulmate, berating their behavior toward you.

He interferes every time you try to speak up, to give your supposed to be Soulmate an answer. Basically, he is being annoying till the point you have to kick him out of the room.

Ace doesn't really want to hear your answer, deep down, he worries that you will actually choose your Soulmate over him.

Waiting outside until you finish your conversation, no matter how long it takes.

Seeing you walking out of the room, he tries to act like he doesn't care. But he cares, a lot actually.

Tell him you have rejected the request since... you already have him as your Soulmate while showing him the Basketball wrist wrap he gave you.

Gotta say Heartslabyul is very good at growing tomatoes.

The following days were a series of days, each time you guys pass by your Soulmate, Ace will give them a smug look while walking hand in hand with you.

Deuce Spade:

Deuce, our sweetheart. The first thing he does after he hears that your Soulmate wants to meet you: Asks if you want him to beat them for you.

I mean, ask if you want him to assist you or do you prefer meeting them alone because model students don’t fight (Please bring him with you Ơ ^ Ơ).

It actually doesn’t matter, he will still follow you if you choose the second option, but more secretly (not really).

He doesn’t like your Soulmate, not a bit. But hearing your Soulmate’s request? He almost let them drown under at least three cauldrons (If you are quick enough).

How dare they be so casual about it? Do they not know how much you suffer?

But, Deuce will respect your choice, even if it can be hurtful. Telling you that it is okay if you want to be back with them. He is on the verge of crying, a sad puppy.

Do you really mean that he is more important than the Soulbond?

Give you a tight hug, I mean, a really tight one. He thought that he was going to lose you. But he is happy now, with the brightest smile present on his face.

And now your ex-Soulmates is being the third wheel here.

[jesuistrestriste]

what do you think of sites like cai?

i would be lying if i said i haven’t been using cai specifically off and on for a while now lmao

however ! i have mixed feelings about it. cai and i are caught in a toxic tussle right now.

while i think it can be a super fun platform to explore, i also believe that it can really start to deteriorate one’s creativity (if it’s one of the only forms of writing/reading that you’re interacting with on a daily basis, ie not reading human-written content). while bots can be tweaked/programmed by bot-creators to write in a specific way, the app’s coding will usually start to take over at a specific point and begin to spit out repetitive content that can really dull a person’s perception of what is “good” or “interesting” writing. i think many bot-creators are obviously just as creative/talented as people who only write in a traditional sense— my grievances really lie with the concept of ai writing itself. the fact is: ai-written pieces will never be able to fully capture the same warmth, depth, and emotional texture that human-written content can. and i think the rampant use of ai bots is really starting to rot our younger generations’ minds. people want to read less, write less, interact with real people less, etc. it’s very concerning. not to mention how addictive it can be ! there is a definite dopamine rush that comes with interacting with an application/program that is designed to give you exactly the response you want it to.

additionally, i’ve just recently found out that ai bot sites (and platforms that use ai in general) are extremely harmful for the environment in terms of their carbon footprint. they are all run using programming that consumes gross amounts of energy, which obviously produces/releases huge amounts of CO2— detrimentally contributing to global warming.

i can’t sit here and say that i don’t use the app, or that people who use the app(s) are “bad”, that would make me a hypocrite and a liar lmao but i am trying to wean off of it. i think its very easy to become attached to these sorts of things, as that’s a large part of what they’re made to do/encourage, but there are certainly big draws to using them consistently (and using them in replacement of actual human-to-human contact).

use it responsibly and don’t forget to take care of yourself, that’s all i gotta say !

[anamericangirl]

Long message ahead (sorry about that LOL):

It's so insane to me how the left will constantly claim to be the pro-woman party and then turn around to tell any woman who disagrees with them that they hope said woman dies in some way or gets raped, and I'm not just talking about that repulsive ask you got. They'll say disgusting things like that even to other leftist women who disagree with them on only a handful of issues. But yeah, sure, they 100% care about the rights and safety of women. Totally.

If I'm honest, that's what "woke me up," so to speak, and I know I'm far from the first - the realization that they claim to want to protect "marginalized"/minority groups until someone from said groups disagrees. Then out come the violent threats and slurs that they reprimand others for or claim that conservatives are doing, thinking they can "revoke your [minority group] card" as if someone will stop being female or POC or homosexual/bisexual or disabled simply for disagreeing. Personally, I think it's them admitting that they use these characteristics as shields, so "revoking" them from those who dare to disagree makes them feel stronger. Since they put so much weight on the "community" aspect, they think kicking out anyone who disagrees will leave the opposition destitute and are implying minorities can't stand on our own.

I'll never stop pointing out that the only people who call minorities "marginalized" (defined as being treated as insignificant or peripheral) are leftists. The only people who are openly treating us as an unimportant second class are leftists, and they are the only ones who have ever consistently implied we are such in society ("you can never escape what we labeled you so that means we gotta either tear everything down and start again, or you can just live in fear").

Like I said, it's nothing new, but it's stopped shocking me when something makes them show their true colors. It just happens to be the election right now.

TLDR: minorities aren't "marginalized" because of Western society, leftists just labeled us that to say exactly what they think of us, and realizing this has freed me.

Also, your blog is awesome.

Well I am very glad you have escaped that toxic mindset and your eyes have been opened to how destructive and despicable the left really is.

They parade identity politics and thrive on the idea that how a person identifies themselves is the end all be all of their entire being and thus they present themselves as a group who is pro-every identity to look like they accept you based on identity alone. But that mask falls off once you dare disagree with them on one thing. Then you are the enemy. And that's because they really don't care about identity. They care about ideoloy and if your ideology doesn't match theirs, then they try to revoke your identity as if they own it and get to decide what it's acceptable for people of certain identities to believe or not believe.

And, as someone who fits into more than one identity they claim to be "pro", I have never been welcomed, accepted or tolerated by them because I don't have the opinions they want me to have.

When you get down to it, if you disagree with them, they are racist, misogynistic, homophobic, transphobic, xenophobic, ableist, etc. and they collectively use more slurs than any other group I have ever seen. But they think it's ok because they're using them on people they don't like.

They aren't good people and I think more and more people are coming to that realization. They are their own worst enemy and their behavior will turn more people away then it will bring to them and that is the only good thing about them.

They attract a lot of people because they are good at publicly playing the empathy card and looking like they care but it doesn't take long to see the that's all bs when you really start watching them.

I am glad you have been freed from that and I'm glad you think my blog is awesome! I think you're awesome :)

[bisamwilson]

why do none of the rebels characters or ahsoka have actual personalities anymore,,,,,

[yuwuta]

yuuta exhibits such previously abandoned, recently adopted dog behavior. incredibly anxious all the time, even though nobody’s out to get him or leave him behind. waits for you to return home or from school or from work excitedly, just to see you when you walk through the door. follows you around senselessly, hovering in your space just for the sake of companionship. initiates affection in prodding ways—starts off next to you, then a hand on your thigh, then deems it safe to lay all the way down, then slowly pushes his head into your lap. gets up whenever you need to get up, and resumes his position as soon as you’re ready. brings you gifts as a sign that he’s thinking of you, and maybe because he likes the affection it brings out in you, maybe because he likes the gentle affirming touches of a hand in his hair or a pinch to his cheek. rests his head on your stomach or his chin on your shoulder when he’s sleepy, stays there, immobile, and will not move unless absolutely necessary. sometimes he gets surprised when he hears you calling for him, there’s a moment of disbelief as he thinks “me? really? you need me?” but it’s very quickly overshadowed by this compulsive need to show up, to please, to do anything for you, which is why he always answers when you call. he doesn’t realize that he has puppygod eyes, especially when he’s excited or confused, but he does and it’s incredible endearing. very reluctant to share your space or attention after a while, considers that to be sacred and he won’t risk being let go or lost again, so as a safety precaution, he keeps himself right by you, waits for you always.