#the guy i was in love with is getting married

[professionalchaoticdumbass]

rating different responses to telling someone i’m polyamorous / dating multiple people

“oh… but how does that work?” a little annoying but usually comes from a place of genuine confusion or curiosity. 6/10

“but isnt that cheating?” no. 2/10

“so who’s your favourite partner?” believe it or not i dont have one, and even if i did have a fave it’d be shitty to say it out loud. 3/10

“oh sweet me too” FUCK YEAH 10/10

“can i join” well i barely know you so no. ranges from 2/10 to 4/10 depending on who’s asking

“woah so you’re like, an ot3 in real life” fuck your fandom shit. touch grass. 1/10

“i could never do polyamory” you’d think this is a perfectly fine thing to hear until you get it from EVERY FUCKING PERSON. 3/10

“thats cool” hell yeah it is. 9/10

“you'll get married and find the one eventually” fuck you ive already found the several and amatonormativity can go give birth to a cactus out of its asshole. 0/10

“so how do you guys break up” and we’re back with another well meaning question. if you are familiar with among us then that’s your answer. 5/10

“like sister wives” absolutely not. wildly different. 1/10

“rent must be way easier” monogamy? in this economy? yeah you have a point. 7/10

“huh i never thought of that, maybe i should become poly/open up my relationship” go nuts!! but be cautious as it could fuck up any present monogamous relationship you have, make sure to communicate clearly & respect boundaries. 6/10

“damn you must have so many threesomes/orgies” i mean yeah but also thats not how you start a conversation. 3/10

“oh that must be nice, having so many people who love you and you care about” awww thank you. it really, really is. 10/10

“like mormons” die. -10000/10

[authorhjk1]

Dreamy Pink

(Shin Ryujin X Male Reader)

By @i-am-lifeform24

“The pink one is Ryujin being an actual princess (haven't decided on the time period yet). This one is completely the opposite to the black one. Here is Ryujin in control. And her advisor is the guy she uses when she needs to get off.” - Inspiration quote from @authorhjk1

“No.”

“Your highness, they are all very accomplished, winners of multiple wars!”

“Accomplished, but ugly. No.”

“Princess, these nations have stood with us for centuries. Surely you can think it o-”

Ryujin stares down the impassioned minister, crossing her arms, her pink, flowing dress sparkling as she looks up at the man from across the round table. “I see no reason why I have to do anything, minister. I will not be marrying any of these slimy men.”

You sigh, shooting the old man an apologetic glance as the other members of the council fidget in their seats. The princess has always been… difficult. Even standing behind her, you can feel how uncomfortable the room is getting. Funny, that all the most powerful lords and ladies of the country can’t get through to a much younger girl.

Steeling yourself, you take a step forward, “My apologies, minister, perhaps the princess misunderstands.” Ryujin’s catlike eyes dart left, the princess giving you a warning, shifting her lithe body in the pink mass of cotton so she can better stare up at you. You can feel the other members of the table hold their breath. Here it comes.

“Misunderstand what exactly, advisor?” Her voice is icy, pointed, like she can’t imagine why you would say something so stupid. Well, it is your job after all, and whether she likes it or not, you were put in this position to keep her in check, so keep her in check you will.

“That while you are the most beautiful princess on the continent, you are also the leader of the most powerful country on this side of the world.” You start, gesturing to the other nobles of the table. They straighten up, morning sunlight peeking through stained glass to illuminate their battle-worn features, as if they’ve broken free from the spell of a very bratty princess.

Ryujin raises her eyebrow at you, slightly nodding for you to go on. You watch her dress shine in the soft light, taking a deep breath, “You have to at least listen their proposals out. Agree to the minister’s plan to let the princes visit you.”

Ryujin scoffs, “I don’t want their mud on my floors. This castle was built by my father, and you want to bring these grungy foreigners here? To my paradise?”

You lean forward, and Ryujin’s eyes widen as your strong voice echoes throughout the ornate chamber, “A paradise built by alliances. Strong, long-lasting, powerful alliances. Do you believe that your honorable parents fell in love by the grace of God, your highness?”

Ryujin’s eyes narrow, and the whole room holds its breath. You glance at the minister across the table, the man slowly sitting back down, eyes wide, his robes shifting as he tries to sneak back into his seat. Your heart catches in your throat. It’s never a good idea to mention the late King and Queen in front of her.

Maybe if you apologize before it sets in, she’ll forgive you. You meet Ryujin’s gaze, stammering, ‘N-not to say that your parents were without grace. I’m sure that they would be very proud of you, your high-“

“You’re right.”

Wait, what?

Ryujin smiles at you, her dark eyes crinkling as she exhales, breaking her stare. She turns back to the council. “My Advisor is right. I apologize for my own lack of foresight in the matter of my engagement. Minister, let it be know that I will receive these… princes. I will leave the details up to you.”

“A…. A wise choice, your highness! We shall begin constructing the plans right away.” The old man shoots up with a wide smile, the other council members filling the room with excited applause. You look down at Ryujin, and the princess cracks a smirk at you, as if her jolt of anger was all one big, convoluted, prank.

You gulp, giving her a quick smirk back, stepping behind the sovereign’s large makeshift throne as the council chatters on. Ryujin straightens her back, adjusting her tiara to sit on perfectly on her neatly combed locks. Here, at the head of the table, she almost seems like a real ruler, not an aggressive orphan made to reign way too early.

Soon, the meeting concludes, and you find yourself at the large mahogany bowing to every council member that takes their leave. “Thank you, duchess. And yes, we will make sure that the princess attends your name day celebration!” You lean forward, holding the gloved hand of an older woman, the smile lines on her cheeks deepening as you smile at her. She leans beside your ear, letting the other nobles pass behind her, “Thank the Lord for you, advisor. The poor girl barely has things together as it is…” You straighten, giving the older woman a sideways grin, “Now that’s our sovereign you are talking about, duchess, with how large the kingdom is, I would say that she is doing much better than any of us could.”

The duchess opens her mouth to respond, “Oh no advisor, i’m sure….” Suddenly, her eyes widen, staring at the doorway behind you, and she trails off. “Nevermind! I shall see you on Saturday. Your highness.” She curtsies, and you turn around, just in time to see Ryujin, with her guards flanking her, and her arms across her chest.

“P-princess! I apologize, I'm blocking your way.” You start, stepping aside in an ill attempt to escape. With a bang, the large doors swing shut, and the guards shift uneasily as Ryujin grabs you by the ear and pulls you along the hallway.

“Ow! Princess! I was just escorting the duchess out! I didn’t mean anything by-” You grimace, the sharp pain coursing through your body as she drags you past ornate paintings and ancient keepsakes. The royal is surprisingly strong, her long legs strutting confidently on the velvet carpet. You wonder what set her off this time. She handled the meeting well, really, really well. If anything, you’re more than proud that she managed to avoid exploding at the council, or at you, for once, so what could she possibly want with you now.

Eventually, the thump of her heels on the soft flooring stops, and you find yourself in front of a large, gilded door. The guards follow closely behind, gloves gripping the hilts of their swords tightly as Ryujin addresses them. “Leave us, now. And make sure that none enter this wing for the next few hours. I will have a few words with my advisor.”

You shoot a pleading look at the knights, almost feeling their pity through their plated armor. ‘Sorry, boss. We’ll make it up to you.’ they seem to say, bowing quickly before marching away to the entrance of the castle wing. God, you’ve really done it now.

Ryujin drags you inside, not wasting a second, pushing you up against the warm wood. Your breath catches in your throat, the messy, victorian style bedroom a lazy backdrop to the princess’ intense stare. She pushes her covered breasts onto your chest. Arms, they stay pinned at your side, like she’s pressing a painting into a wall. Ryujin slowly cranes her lips beside your ear, “I barely have things together?”

You gulp, heart catching in your throat as you look down at the beautiful woman. Her gaze is icy, hands slowly rubbing the outside of your trousers. “P-princess, the duchess simply worries for you, we don’t have to do this again.” you squeak, like a mouse, hunted by this very turned on, catlike royal.

Ryujin does nothing but smirk, pulling your underwear down quickly, dropping to her knees as the cold morning air wraps around your erect member. Your hands slowly droop down, but you stay plastered on the wood, like she’s still pinning you there, like her body is still on you.

“Heavy. Good. You’re filling me up today.” The princess cups your balls, her fingers dribbling against the puckered skin as she squints up at you. Amidst short breaths, you can’t help but marvel at how the orange-yellow light glazes her skin, the thin, pink fabric of her dress covered in dark spots as Ryujin’s wetness spreads from her legs. She’s beautiful, and after that disaster of a meeting, she needs a way to relieve her stress.

Ryujin’s tongue darts out, teasing the leaking tip of your cockhead as she grips you by your base, “Hey.” Informal. Casual. Crude. She looks up into your eyes, and you stare back down at her, sweat forming on your forehead as you can’t help but throb in her soft hands. “Yes, princess?” you reply, your voice breathy.

Her gaze softens, her eyes now half-lidded as she slowly licks up the length of your shaft. Her dress has creeped up her thighs at this point, and you can’t help but notice her bare pussy lips in between her kneeling legs. Ryujin stares at you, a firm warning exiting her precum smeared lips, “Don’t ever embarrass me again… daddy.”

You harden at the words, wanting nothing more than to grab the princess by the neck and throw her onto the bed. Ryujin can tell, making a show out of keeping one hand jerking on your cock, while the other pulls her dress down her breasts, the mink revealing perfect, perky breasts.

She smiles, “I’m going to drain you now, and you don’t get to cum until I say so, alright?” Ryujin accentuates the last word with a kiss on your cockhead, the skin wet with her spit. You give her a slow nod, gritting your teeth. She’s asking you for the impossible.

But she’s also your princess. You are sworn to her.

“Yes… your highness.” You croak out the words as Ryujin smirks at you, “Good daddy, now come to bed, i’m riding you until you fill me with your seed.”

You stumble forward, watching as your princess sauntily sways her now naked hips. No undergarments in the council meeting? You’d have ot tell her off later, but in the meantime, the idea only does more to keep your cock hard and ready. Her pink dress stays bunched up around her tight waist, and you watch as her ass sways in the morning light, the dresses and books strewed around the floor nothing but obstacles for her long, supple legs.

Ryujin crawls onto the bed, peeling the rest of the pink fabric off her body, then kneeling on her heels as she crosses her arms, “Faster, daddy. I have a kingdom to run.”

Hastily, you strip, sitting on the edge of the bed, then swinging your legs so they are on either side of the kneeling girl. You’re careful not to meet her eyes. No matter how turned on you are, she’s in charge.

Soon, you’re lying down on your back, the expensive, gold patterned furs digging into the small of your back as your princess straddles you. Ryujin’s hair falls around her face in the soft yellow light, and you watch as her petite tits rise and fall, the princess grabbing you by the shaft, your cockhead rubbing against her pussy lips as she stares down at you.

Her eyes roll back into her head, “God, daddy, if only that old hag could watch me handle this.

“Fuck!” You groan. With a slap, the princess’ ass bounces on your thighs as she roughly takes you to the hilt. She’s always rough, calling you daddy even if you’re her toy, but a part of you loves it, loves letting her take control, loves letting the princess, in a twisted way, worship you with her body.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Ryujin moans, grabbing handfuls of the blankets around her as she bounces on your cock. You feel her walls get accustomed to you, the tightness suffocating, wringing you in a wet embrace.

You look up. She’s not even looking at you. Her Tiara stays skewed on her head, her breasts jumping with every bounce, her small hands resting on your thighs as the princess arches her back, gyrating her hips onto your waiting cock.

“P-princess, it’s so good.” You moan, hands reaching down to grab her soaked ass.

A slap resounds through the large room. “Don’t you dare. You don’t get to touch me until I milk you dry, daddy.” Ryujin warns, her tongue coming out of her moaning mouth as she slaps your hands away, continuing her impassioned ride.

You give up, resorting to grabbing handfuls of cloth, watching as your beloved princess cums on your cock, over and over again, her breasts lathered in sweat, her taut stomach rippling under the force of her bouncing.

Ryujin opens one eye, panting, to grab you by the neck, “Kiss me, daddy…” You hesitate for a moment, wishing to savor the feeling of her drawing circles on your crotch, the glorious sensation of her royal pussy grasping onto every ridge of your unworthy cock, but in the end, you sit up.

“You’re beautiful, princess… please, i’m so close.” You beg, letting the girl hold you by the cheeks as your tongue explores her mouth, her hips still riding you, albeit slower, more deliberate, as if she wants to savor every moment too.

Ryujin looks up at you, her dark eyes mesmerizing as you feel the blankets shift. “Here, you belong to me… all your cum, daddy… it belongs to me…” She whispers slowly, pausing to grimace, as if your cock is somehow surprising her with pleasure after all these trysts.

You exhale, feeling it bubble in your core. Something about your aloof, icy princess demanding for you, demanding for your seed, burns all thoughts of stopping away. You need to cum in her, now.

Your lips find Ryujin’s neck, sucking on her clear, unblemished skin as your rough hands find her ass. This time, she doesn’t turn you away, the princess’ smile only getting bigger, as if she’s been waiting for you to take charge.

”Mmm, fuck! Fuck! Breed me! Breed your princess!” Ryujin screams, her hips now still as you fuck into her fast and hard. She’s sitting on your lap now, your chests pushed together, her breasts warm as you hammer into the royal’s pussy.

“Y-yes princess! It’s coming!” You grit your teeth, focusing on delaying your release for as long as you can, until the princess wraps her long legs around you, rocking her pussy lips on the base of your crotch. “Oh… oh! Daddy!” Ryujin groans, grinding her pussy onto you, not allowing you to thrust, her walls clenching, begging for your seed as she pins you down with the flower between her legs.

“I’m coming!” You roar, kissing Ryujin’s jaw as the princess’ eyes shoot open. She moans loudly as you fill her, your hot, virile cum making her body relax. You feel her in your arms, her tits shaking, her ass trembling as you fill the next in line to the throne with your seed.

It’s almost comical, that she’d get so frustrated with a stupid meeting, that this.is the only way she could relax.

Hey, you’re not complaining, sighing as Ryujin topples onto your chest, her hot, deep breaths in your ear her pussy still milking the last dribbles of cum from your cock.

You look down at her with a grin, “Is that all for this morning, your highness?”

Ryujin rolls her eyes, nestling into the crook of your neck, the fur blankets around you damp with the heat of your sex. “Mmm,..”

She flips you over, her legs spreading as you crouch above her, your cock exiting her pussy with a pop. Ryujin smiles, “No, daddy. This time, you’re going to use me.”

You smile, watching her bite her lip as the morning light fades. “As you wish, your highness.”

----------

Hi everyone!

This chapter was written by @i-am-lifeform24 . Thank you so much for the great chapter!

I hope you guys enjoy reading it.

Stay healthy!

[hottogogoat]

i’m really bored so i wrote a parody of what a husband’s pov version would be like. i’m sorry.

(btw i’m a lesbian, i can say the d-word.)

it’s fine, it’s cool

you can say that she ain’t nothing but you know the truth

guess i’m the fool

her arms are out the sunroof

while you grab her boob (?)

i dont a divorce, but u want lesbian intercourse

you only married me to hide the fact you like girls

you can kiss a hundred boys in bars

go ahead, blame me for ur lesbianism

you can say you’re straight but it’s just a farce

I caught you on your knees doing cunnillingus

ON A HOT BABE

A HOT BABE

i’ve watched you cum for real with her, you faked it with me

GOOD FUCK, BABE

GOOD FUCK, BABE

you’re clearly good at this to catch chappell’s feelings

you’re clearly good at this to catch chappell’s feelings

i’m cliché, who cares?

my wife’s a raging dyke having love affairs

and i cry, it’s not fair

i know i’m really boring

and i know i can’t compare!

think i’ll get that divorce

before things get any worse

i think the guys at my job know this song’s about you!

(chorus)

When you wake up next to me

in the middle of the night

you put your head in your hands

you fucking married a guy

so you think about chappell all of those years ago

you’re a homo, I’m a zero, and she told you so.

though it hurts my ego, SHE WAS RIGHT THOOOOOOUGH

[maybefae]

If you were written into a book, what would be the story? (Fictional tropes?)

Pile 1 - Pile 2- Pile 3

Remember, this is a general reading and it may not resonate for everyone or completely. Tarot is a tool to help guide but you are responsible for your actions and life, you choose your path.

Tips!

Pile 1

Tarot: King of Wands, The Tower, Three of Pentacles, Ten of Cups, Two of Swords, Five of Cups, Page of Swords, Three of Cups, Temperance, The Empress, Ten of Cups, Ace of Cups, Two of Wands, Judgement, The Sun

Oracle: The Cartographer, The Founder, The Scholar, The Captain

I am getting two versions but with the same “ending.” And I originally was gonna use the deck I picked for your pile a couple days ago but I kept shuffling and nothing was coming through so I had to use a different deck. But some of the previous cards did come through! I believe that the deck situation does actually play into the story I am getting too. 

The situation has to do with a switch in power. This story starts with a king and this king could either be your husband in this book or your father. (I’ll let you guys decide what version you like best.) 

If it was your husband, this was an arranged marriage and one you really didn’t get much of a say in. Your family could’ve needed financial help and you being married off to royalty probably helped them. You probably went through with it just so your family would be happy. But the king was selfish, wouldn’t see any other way but his. He didn’t care much about you, liked the look of you on his arm, but would bed any other woman or person he’d like because he’s king. You didn’t have room to grow during this part of the story.

However, there is a turning point where you had enough or your kingdom was in trouble with his ruling and you end up killing him. And you probably made this murder look like an accident. I do have the idea that you probably had a servant or night that helped. This knight could be a love interest that you end up with in the future. But this is your big tower moment where you then are put into power without much knowledge on how to rule. 

But the people of the kingdom as well as the workers that were for you and the King actually adored you. They knew how disgusting, selfish, and greedy the King was; they saw how the King treated you. That’s how he treated them as well! And so the workers helped you, taught you how to rule. And you did a lot of studying, independently but also getting word from around town. I’m not gonna say that it was easy being put in a position of power, but you did it as gracefully as you could. It has a lot of found family vibes. The other kingdoms may have had an issue that you actually helped your people and weren’t greedy and self-centered but there are also hints that you actually end up uniting a bunch of lands. But you did grow into a well-loved ruler.

It’s like the quote, “Is it better to be feared or to be loved?” And in your case, it’s better to be loved because the people would go to lengths to defend you and the land. They have something to be proud of. 

If you wanted a love interest, I believe you get one and I have a feeling it is the knight I picked up on earlier. Or there could be a character added later on for book two of your story.

Pile 2

Tarot: Knight of Pentacles (The Entertainer), Wheel of Fortune (Life Map), Eight of Cups, Three of Pentacles, Page of Wands (The Wanderer), Nine of Pentacles, The Tower (The Shore), King of Wands (The Protector), Five of Cups, Seven of Cups, The Hierophant (The Phoenix)

Oracle: The Pathless, The Fate, The Alchemist, The Walker, The Sentinel

So I wanna start with the fact that there are two cards about “fate” here. And there is a blatant story that is shown here. This story has to do with time travel and you, as a character, having a hard time accepting fate. 

In this story, you have a partner that you were madly in love with, as were they with you. But this could be a historical fiction where they are drafted or they sign up to go to war. And while they were deployed, they would send letters promising a future. However, you end up getting news that they died in war. And you are hysterical. You don’t want to believe it’s real and will go to whatever lengths to get them back. 

Thus, this is where the time travel part comes in. I don’t necessarily know how time travel would happen in this book but I keep getting the vision of you going through time line after time line trying to find the one where they survive and make it back from war. A time line where you both can live out the future you planned. But each one, they end up dying. And your character is supposed to accept this moment as a thing that was supposed to happen. No matter if you went back and changed something in the past, it was bound to happen anyway. It’s like you can’t change someone else’s life. Your love wasn’t wasted. And I see a being, personified death, try to tell you this and you’re just sobbing and begging death for help. But it’s like you just ask, “What am I supposed to do?” And you don’t ask how you can bring your lover back. You want to know how to live. And Death ends up telling you something, but in my vision it’s like it zoomed out and I can see the both of you. His mouth is moving while you look at him, listening to his advice. But I can’t hear it.

It reminds me of the letter a soldier wrote to his lover.

Pile 3

Tarot: Nine of Cups, Seven of Cups, Page of Wands, Nine of Pentacles, Nine of Swords, Two of Swords, The Star, Ace of Pentacles, King of Swords, The Hierophant. Page of Swords, Eight of Pentacles

Oracle: The Waker, The Sentinel, The Chiromancer, The Miser, The Guide

I’m getting a few books or pieces of media that can correlate: Pride and Prejudice, Little Women (Jo and Laurie in particular), and Anthony and Kate (Bridgerton).

I believe that your story revolves around the complexities of the “older sister” role. You are the character that needs to control and look after everything or else you think the world will fall apart. But there is also an energy here of high standards and “why do I need a lover if I already have everything I need?” or the anger of someone wanting to come in, love and take care of you but you get angry because you have had to do it all by yourself. The anger of wanting this person when you needed them but now you don’t anymore, so fuck off. 

This pile is definitely for the enemies-to-lovers fanatics. There is an energy here of one-sided feelings but it’s more that your character does like this person but the unchecked/unhealed anger overrides all good feelings. This story is a journey of letting go and letting yourself be loved despite how uncomfortable and scary it is. The female rage, the anger of the older sibling…figuring out how to deal with the anger, letting go of control now that you don’t need to live in survival mode anymore. It’s the older version of you protecting a younger version of you, protecting your heart…

The love interest is charming. They can come off cocky and a flirt but may say things the wrong way which makes you “hate” this person. You think they’re a town bicycle, everyone gets a ride with them. But they truly do have feelings for you. They like the chase and fall deeper in love with you the more they have to work to break down your walls so you can see how serious they are. There could be events in the book where they come around to help and they could be the only ones that do come around to help you when everyone else is blind to your struggles and pain. And over the course of the book, you see that and finally take down your wall, slowly, brick-by-brick. And even if they like the chase, they don’t lose feelings when they finally get to hold you in their arms. They are completely serious, completely in love with you. And you get to have the safe home you’ve always dreamt of in the end. They are your defenders, even though they know you can handle yourself. The slow burn was worth it, I promise. 

Decks Used:  Ophida Rosa Tarot by Leila and Olive, The Rider-Waite Tarot Deck, The Citadel: A Fantasy Oracle by Fez Inkwright, Ethereal Visions Illuminated Tarot Deck by Matt Hughes Dividers: @inklore

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, in every time ࿐‧₊ 1900 - with you i'm free

chapter summary: Logan meets you again in a small town in Pennsylvania. Only this time, you are married to another man, but your marriage is far from perfect.

word count: 11.4k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: this is a bit darker than the other chapters, past and future, so this'll probably be a 'one off'. please read the tags! the domestic violence isn't described too heavily, but there are still some descriptions and scenes involving it. you've been warned!

warnings/tags: angst, mentions of brushing hair, outdated mindsets on women, domestic violence, bruises, cheating, blood, character death

series masterlist - chapter 2 → chapter 4

Logan found himself in a small town in Pennsylvania 20 years later. Victor was doing who knows what, he wasn’t sure if he even cared, so he was alone, once again.

Coal mining was the primary job in this town, so he found himself doing just that. After work, the guys would go to a nearby bar and get drunk, go back home, and repeat it all over again.

This was his second week here, and the guys finally learned that he only came along to do one thing- drink.

You walked into the dimly lit bar, the smell of tobacco and cheap liquor hanging heavy in the air. The men, mostly miners from the town, were crowded around tables, drinking and laughing loudly after a long day of work. The sound of clinking glasses and rough voices filled the room, but your eyes were drawn to the man sitting at the bar, quiet and distant.

He didn’t look like the others—he wasn’t laughing, wasn’t part of the group. He just sat there, nursing a glass of whiskey, his dark eyes focused on the amber liquid as if it held answers to questions he wasn’t ready to ask. Something about him felt familiar, though you couldn’t place why.

You hadn’t intended to come inside. George was already drunk somewhere in the back, and you knew what that would mean when he got home. But something pulled you toward the bar, toward him. You made your way over, hesitating for just a moment before slipping onto the stool beside him.

“You new in town?” you asked, your voice soft but cutting through the noise around you.

The man didn’t look at you right away, but his hand tightened slightly around the glass. His jaw clenched, as if the sound of your voice had struck something deep inside him. Slowly, he turned his head, and when his eyes met yours, the world seemed to tilt for a moment.

It was like a punch to the gut, a shock that ran through both of you, though you couldn’t understand why. You had never met him before, but his eyes... those eyes. Dark, haunted, and yet filled with something familiar, something you couldn’t explain.

Logan stared at you, his mind racing. It couldn’t be. But it was. You were here, sitting right next to him, alive. Different, yet the same. His chest tightened, the memories flooding back—your face, your smile, your laugh. The way you had slipped away from him, twice now.

He hadn’t expected to see you again. Not after the last time. But here you were, as real as the glass in his hand.

“Yeah,” he muttered, his voice rougher than he intended. “Just passing through.”

You tilted your head slightly, curious about the stranger beside you. “Passing through? Not many people come here unless they’re looking to stay a while.”

Logan’s eyes flicked to you again, lingering this time. It was you, all right. Same voice, same damn spark. He could feel his heart pounding, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure if he should just get up and walk away. He didn’t know if he could handle this—losing you again.

“I’m not lookin’ to stay,” he said, taking a long sip of his drink, hoping it would calm the storm inside him.

You smiled faintly, noticing how closed-off he seemed. “Seems like you’re fitting in already, though,” you joked, nodding toward the men in the back. “That’s my husband back there, George. One of the miners.”

Logan’s jaw tightened at the word ‘husband,’ though he didn’t know why it hit him so hard. Of course, you’d have a life. It was always like this. But that didn’t make it any easier.

“Is that right?” he replied, not really asking. He glanced toward the group of men, catching sight of George, loud and drunk, waving his glass around like he owned the place. A man like that didn’t deserve you. But Logan stayed silent.

“Yeah,” you said softly, looking down at your hands. “He’s… something.”

There was a heaviness in your voice, something that told Logan more than your words ever could. He recognized that tone—the one you used when you were trying to hide the truth, trying to make things seem better than they were.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Logan just stared at his drink, trying to figure out what the hell he was supposed to do now. You were married. You had a life. He didn’t belong here. But he couldn’t just walk away. Not again.

“Y/N.” The sound of your name from his lips was barely a whisper, but it felt like it echoed through the bar. Your head snapped up, eyes wide.

“How… how do you know my name?” you asked, frowning in confusion. He hadn’t asked, and you hadn’t introduced yourself.

Logan cursed inwardly, realizing his slip. He hadn’t meant to say it, but your name had come so naturally, like it always did. “I, uh… heard someone call you that when I came in,” he lied, quickly looking away. “Didn’t mean to surprise you.”

You blinked, but before you could question him further, George’s booming voice interrupted.

“Y/N!” he shouted, stumbling toward you. “What’re you doin’ at the bar? Get over here!”

You flinched slightly, your body tensing at the sound of his voice. Logan noticed immediately, his eyes darkening as he glanced between you and the drunk man. He didn’t like the way George looked at you, the way he called for you like he owned you.

“I should go,” you muttered, standing up quickly, the warmth between you and Logan fading as you stepped away. “It was nice meeting you…?”

“Logan,” he said, his voice low. “Name’s Logan.”

You smiled faintly again, nodding. “Logan. Well, take care.”

He watched you walk away, his chest tight with a mix of emotions he couldn’t put into words. This wasn’t fair. Not to him, not to you. But life had never been fair, had it?

As George draped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into the group with a roughness that made Logan’s blood boil, he clenched his fists under the bar. He wanted to stand up, walk over there, and tear that man’s arm off. But he stayed where he was, the ring in his pocket feeling heavier than ever. The ring he never got to give you.

You were gone again, and Logan was left with the bitter taste of whiskey and the familiar ache of loss.

---

George never really allowed you to do much, he wanted you to be the ‘perfect wife’ and the ‘perfect mother’, but he always said that last part to you with such hatred.

Some nights, while you silently cried yourself to sleep, you wondered if you were broken, and that maybe you deserved it. Not ever getting pregnant, having an abusive husband- not that it was rare, most of the guys’ wives went through the same things too.

One day, you were out doing errands, getting some things to make George his favorite dinner in hopes you wouldn’t end up with another bruise on your wrist like yesterday, when you saw him. Logan, from a few nights ago.

He was smoking a cigar against a brick building; he should be at work with the rest of the men.

You paused, your breath catching for a moment as you saw him. Logan. He looked out of place, leaning against the wall like he didn’t belong in this time or this town. His eyes, sharp even from a distance, locked onto yours the second you stepped out of the store. It was like he knew you’d be there, as if he had been waiting.

You hesitated, then made your way toward him, the worn handle of the basket digging into your palm as you gripped it tightly.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” you asked softly, your voice carrying just enough over the sound of the bustling street.

Logan took a long drag from the cigar, his eyes narrowing slightly, and shrugged. “Took a break. Figured I needed some air.”

You shifted awkwardly, glancing around before lowering your voice. “If George finds out you’re not working…”

He scoffed, the sound rough, almost amused. “George ain’t my boss.”

His words hung in the air, and you knew he was right. George might run things at home, but out here, Logan didn’t answer to anyone. You, on the other hand… your life was different.

Logan’s eyes flicked down to your wrist, where the bruise from yesterday’s outburst was still visible, even though you’d tried to hide it with long sleeves. His expression darkened instantly, the casual air gone in an instant.

“He do that?” His voice was low, almost a growl.

You swallowed, tugging the sleeve down further. “It’s nothing,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze. “I just—George gets frustrated sometimes.”

Logan pushed off the wall, stepping closer, the smell of smoke and leather surrounding you. He was close now, too close, and you felt your heart quicken—not in fear, but in something else entirely.

“Frustrated?” Logan repeated, his voice dripping with disdain. “That what you call it?”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t, really. What were you supposed to say? That it was normal? That the other wives had it worse? The words died in your throat, and instead, you turned your head, focusing on the basket in your hand. “I should get going.”

But Logan didn’t move, didn’t let you slip away that easily. “You don’t have to put up with that, Y/N,” he muttered, his voice softer now. His hand brushed your arm, barely a touch, but you felt it. Felt it everywhere.

Your breath hitched, and you looked up at him, finding those dark, intense eyes watching you closely. “I… I should get home,” you said again, but the words lacked conviction this time.

Logan didn’t argue, but the look on his face told you that he wasn’t letting this go. “I’ll walk with you,” he said, his tone leaving no room for debate.

You didn’t protest as he fell into step beside you. The two of you walked in silence for a while, your steps in sync, even though neither of you said a word. It was like that night in the bar—the unspoken connection, the weight of something you couldn’t quite name hanging between you. But this time, there was no crowd, no drunken laughter. Just you and him, and the quiet tension that seemed to grow with every step.

When you reached the edge of your street, you stopped. “You don’t have to walk me the whole way,” you murmured, glancing toward your house, where George’s silhouette was already moving around inside.

Logan didn’t respond right away. Instead, he looked at you, his gaze lingering on the bruise again before his eyes met yours. “You ever need someone to talk to,” he said quietly, “you know where to find me.”

Your heart clenched at the offer, at the way he said it like he meant it. You nodded, unsure of what else to do, and turned to leave.

But as you stepped away, his hand brushed yours again, just for a second. It was fleeting, but it sent a shiver down your spine, a reminder that there was something here—something neither of you fully understood but couldn’t deny.

You walked inside, feeling his presence behind you even after the door closed, knowing that things had just shifted, that something had begun. And it scared you. Not because of George, not because of what it might mean if you were caught—but because of how much you wanted it. How much you wanted him.

---

Over the next few days, Logan stayed close. You saw him more often—sometimes at the store, sometimes on the street—but always watching, always aware. He didn’t push, didn’t say much. But his presence was a constant, a quiet offer of protection that you hadn’t asked for but found yourself relying on.

It was late one evening when it finally happened. George had been out drinking again, and when he came home, it was worse than usual. You flinched as his hand caught your wrist, yanking you toward him as he slurred something about dinner not being ready on time.

You would’ve left the house if you could, but you couldn’t. Not when George was glaring at you like that, his drunken eyes wild with the sort of rage that had become all too familiar. You knew exactly what was going to happen tonight. It wasn’t new—this quiet dread that wrapped itself around your throat, choking off your breath. Running had never worked before, and by now, you had learned there was no use in trying.

George's grip on your wrist tightened painfully as he muttered something under his breath. The way he yanked you close made your heart race, not out of fear, but from the exhaustion of enduring it. He wasn’t done with his tirade—his words slurred together, complaining about dinner, the house, everything. It didn’t matter. Nothing you did ever seemed to be enough.

As his fist balled around the fabric of your dress, you stared blankly at the floor, your mind drifting elsewhere, anywhere but here. To the street outside, to the market, to Logan. The quiet man who’d appeared in your life without explanation. You didn’t know why, but when you thought of him, you felt something different—something dangerous but soothing all the same. A flicker of rebellion, of hope, that you hadn’t felt in so long.

George shoved you toward the kitchen table, grumbling about the cold food, about you being lazy, about anything he could think of. You stumbled, catching yourself on the edge of the table, but didn’t say a word. You never did, not when it got like this.

But Logan… he had noticed. He had noticed the bruises, the way you flinched when someone raised their voice, the way you avoided eye contact. He wasn’t like the other men in town. He wasn’t one to turn a blind eye. You remembered his intense gaze lingering on your wrist, the bruise that you couldn’t quite hide. You remembered the way he had spoken to you softly, almost like he cared.

That thought gave you strength now, as George barked another order, telling you to clean up the dishes. Your body moved mechanically, but your mind stayed somewhere else. You could almost feel Logan’s hand brushing against yours again, the briefest touch when he’d walked you home the other night. It had been so subtle, but it had sent a jolt through you—a reminder that there were still things you could feel, still things you could want.

The night dragged on, just as it always did, but when George finally passed out in his chair, snoring heavily, you slipped outside. The cool night air hit your skin, and for a moment, you just stood there, breathing it in. You weren’t going far. Just a few minutes of peace. Just enough to remind yourself that you were still alive.

You walked slowly down the empty street, your eyes scanning the shadows. You didn’t mean to, but your feet led you toward the alley where Logan had been smoking that day. It was a habit now, searching for him, even when you knew you shouldn’t.

And then, there he was. Leaning against the same wall, his broad figure half-hidden by the dim light of the streetlamp. His cigar glowed faintly in the dark, and as soon as he saw you, he straightened, eyes narrowing with concern.

“Y/N,” Logan said softly, stepping toward you. His voice was rough but gentle in the stillness of the night. “What’re you doin’ out here?”

You shrugged, not trusting yourself to speak just yet. Your throat felt tight, and your chest ached with all the things you wanted to say but couldn’t. Instead, you just walked closer, until you were standing right in front of him, your head tipped back slightly to meet his gaze.

Logan’s eyes flickered over your face, taking in every detail—the bruise that had started to fade but was still visible on your wrist, the exhaustion that weighed down your every movement. He didn’t ask any questions. He didn’t need to. He knew.

Without a word, Logan reached out, his hand cupping the back of your neck in a way that was more comforting than anything you’d felt in years. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, and for a moment, you let yourself lean into him. Just for a moment.

“Y/N, you don’t have to stay there,” he murmured, his thumb brushing softly against your skin. “Not with him.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, the truth of his words cutting deeper than anything else. You didn’t want to stay, you didn’t. But leaving wasn’t as easy as it sounded. George was… dangerous. You didn’t know what he would do if you tried to leave him. And besides, where would you even go? You had nothing. No money, no family. Just an empty house that felt more like a prison with every passing day.

“I don’t have anywhere else to go,” you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of your own admission.

Logan’s grip tightened slightly, and you could see the conflict in his eyes. He wanted to help, wanted to tear you away from that life, but he was fighting something inside himself too.

“You always got me,” Logan said quietly, his voice thick with something you couldn’t quite name. “Always.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and full of meaning. You didn’t know what to say. The part of you that was practical screamed that you couldn’t rely on him, that you shouldn’t get attached. But the other part, the part that had been buried deep beneath years of heartache, wanted to believe him. Wanted to fall into him, to take whatever comfort he could offer.

Before you could stop yourself, you reached up, your hand trembling slightly as you rested it on his chest. You felt his heart beating under your palm, steady and strong. Logan’s breath hitched at the contact, but he didn’t pull away. He never did.

“Logan,” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the quiet street. “I don’t know what to do.”

He let out a slow breath, his forehead resting against yours now, his warm breath mingling with yours. His free hand came up, his thumb brushing your cheek softly, tracing the path of an unshed tear.

“You don’t have to decide tonight,” he said gently, his lips so close to yours that it took everything in you not to close the distance. “But whatever you decide… I’m not lettin’ you go through this alone. Not again.”

Your heart ached at his words—his promise. The unspoken connection between you felt stronger than ever, and before you knew it, you were closing that distance, your lips brushing against his in a hesitant, tender kiss.

Logan froze for half a second, but then his arms were around you, pulling you closer as if he’d been waiting for this moment for longer than he could remember. His lips were rough, but his kiss was gentle, full of restraint. You could feel the years of longing behind it, the pain of lifetimes lived and lost, but also the desire—the need that neither of you could ignore any longer.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and trembling, Logan’s eyes were darker than you’d ever seen them. He looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

“Y/N…” he whispered, his voice ragged, his forehead still resting against yours. “This ain’t right. You’re… you’re married.”

“I know,” you said, your voice barely more than a breath. “But I… I don’t care anymore.”

Logan’s grip on you tightened for a moment, like he was trying to fight it, but then he cursed softly under his breath and kissed you again, this time with more desperation, more need. His hands tangled in your hair, his lips claiming yours in a way that made it clear this wasn’t something either of you could stop now.

And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t want to.

---

The next few days blurred together, a dangerous mix of stolen moments and whispered promises. Logan was always there, watching over you, his touch lingering on your skin long after you parted. You knew it was wrong, knew that it would only lead to more heartache, but you couldn’t stop. He had become your anchor, your escape from a life you couldn’t bear anymore.

It wasn’t long before you were meeting him after dark, slipping out of the house when George was too drunk to notice. The kisses became longer, the touches more urgent.

Soon, it wasn’t just nights you were seeing him. It was after George left for work, during Logan’s lunch breaks, or anytime he could sneak away from the mine. You’d meet in the same alley, or sometimes he’d find you waiting in a small park just outside town. The secrecy of it all—the sneaking around, the stolen moments—it was reckless, but neither of you could stop.

Logan wasn’t the kind of man who talked much, but the way he looked at you, the way he held you—like you were the only thing keeping him grounded—it said enough. His hands were always gentle, so different from George’s, even though you could feel the strength behind them. That raw, unyielding strength that was so uniquely his.

One afternoon, Logan met you in the small clearing just past the main street. It was a rare moment when George was working late, giving you a little more time than usual. You leaned against the large oak tree, your back pressed into the rough bark, and waited. It wasn’t long before Logan’s figure appeared in the distance, his broad shoulders tense, eyes scanning the area out of habit.

As soon as he spotted you, his shoulders seemed to relax, and he made his way over, his footsteps heavy but quiet in the dirt. When he got close enough, you smiled softly, your fingers fiddling with the fabric of your dress, a nervous habit you’d picked up over the last few weeks.

“Thought I’d lost you for a minute there,” you teased, keeping your voice light, though there was a real fear under the surface. Every time you saw him, there was a tiny part of you that worried it might be the last.

Logan gave a half-smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Not that easy to lose me, Y/N.”

You looked up at him, trying to read what was going on in his head. He seemed… tense, more so than usual. You could see it in the tightness of his jaw, the way his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides.

“You alright?” you asked, your voice softening as you stepped closer, close enough to touch him, but not quite daring to yet.

Logan’s gaze flickered down to you, and for a moment, you saw something in his eyes—something old, something heavy. But he shook his head, as if brushing it off, and reached out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver through you.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, though you could tell he wasn’t. He was never fine.

You reached out, resting your hand on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart under your palm. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Logan.”

He stared at you for a long moment, the silence stretching between you, before he finally spoke. “It’s just… this,” he said, his voice low, almost pained. “I don’t want you gettin’ hurt.”

You swallowed hard, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “I’m already hurt,” you whispered, and for the first time, you felt the full weight of those words. The bruises, the fear, the nights spent lying awake, wondering if George would snap—it had become your normal, and you hated it.

Logan’s expression didn’t change much, but his jaw clenched, a flicker of something dark flashing behind his eyes. He stood still, his hands loose at his sides, and for a second you thought maybe you’d gone too far—that maybe admitting this would scare him away, make him walk off into the night and leave you standing there alone.

But he didn’t. He never did.

Logan exhaled slowly through his nose, the sound quiet but loaded with restrained anger, like a simmering fire just barely held in check. His hand—rough and warm—reached out to settle on your arm, fingers curling gently around your elbow. It was a simple touch, but it grounded you in a way that nothing else did.

“I’ll handle it,” Logan said, voice low, rough. His words were more than a statement—they were a promise, weighted with meaning you couldn’t quite untangle.

Your heart skipped at the way he said it, quiet but firm, like the solution was already decided, and there was no point in questioning it.

“You can’t,” you whispered, not because you didn’t believe him, but because you knew how dangerous George could be. And if Logan went to him—if George found out about the two of you…

Logan’s thumb brushed once along your forearm, slow and deliberate. “I’ve handled worse,” he muttered, gaze never leaving yours. There was a sharpness in his eyes now, something fierce. You didn’t know what he’d been through in his life—just that it was far more than you could imagine.

A part of you wanted to tell him not to get involved, but the other part—the part of you that had been breaking under George’s hand for years—wanted to let Logan do exactly what he was offering.

You bit your lip. “If he finds out…” You trailed off, but Logan understood. Of course he did.

He stepped in closer, so close that the rough wool of his shirt brushed against your dress. His hand shifted from your arm to the back of your neck, his fingers resting there firmly, possessively, but with the same strange tenderness he always showed you. “I won’t let him hurt you again,” Logan murmured, voice steady.

You wanted to believe him. God, you wanted to believe him so badly. And when you looked into his eyes—dark and steady and filled with something raw and unyielding—you thought maybe you could.

Your hand rested flat against his chest, fingers curling slightly into the worn fabric of his shirt. His heartbeat strong beneath your palm, steady and unrelenting.

“He won’t stop, Logan.” Your voice cracked, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “He’ll just—he’ll come after me, after us.”

Logan’s lips pressed into a thin line, the muscle in his jaw twitching. “Let him try,” he said, the words edged with a quiet menace that sent a chill down your spine.

It should have scared you, the way he said it—like violence was something inevitable, something he didn’t shy away from. But instead, it made you feel… safe. Safer than you’d felt in years.

The night air around you was cool, but standing this close to Logan, you felt none of it. His hand slipped from your neck down to the small of your back, his touch warm and steady through the fabric of your dress.

“I shouldn’t be here,” you whispered, but even as you said it, you didn’t move away.

Logan’s gaze softened, just a fraction. “I ain’t gonna pretend this is right,” he said, voice rough but quiet. “But I ain’t gonna pretend I don’t want you, either.”

His words hit you hard, sinking deep into your chest. You hadn’t realized how starved you were—how badly you needed someone to see you, to want you. And Logan… he saw everything. The bruises, the fear, the exhaustion. And still, he looked at you like you were worth something.

You swallowed thickly. “What happens if he finds out?”

Logan’s expression darkened. “He won’t.”

The finality in his tone left no room for doubt, and for a moment, all the fear that had been building inside you loosened, just enough to let you breathe.

Without thinking, you reached up, fingertips brushing along the edge of his jaw, feeling the rough scrape of stubble beneath your touch. Logan’s eyes closed briefly, like the small touch was something he hadn’t let himself feel in a long time. When his eyes opened again, they were darker, filled with a need that mirrored your own.

He leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

His lips found yours in a kiss that was both tender and desperate, like a man starved for something he couldn’t name. His hand cupped the back of your head, holding you to him as if he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

You melted into him, the fear and exhaustion slipping away, at least for now. His kiss was everything—an escape, a promise, a lifeline.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and trembling, Logan rested his forehead against yours. His hand lingered on your waist, as if letting go wasn’t an option.

“Just say the word, Y/N,” Logan whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “Say the word, and we’ll leave. Tonight.”

Your heart ached at the offer—at the thought of running away with him, leaving everything behind. But it wasn’t that simple, and you both knew it.

“I can’t,” you whispered, hating yourself for the truth of it.

Logan’s grip on you tightened briefly, as if trying to hold onto something he couldn’t keep. But when he spoke again, his voice was steady.

“Then I’ll stay,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. “Until you can.”

You closed your eyes, letting the weight of his words settle over you. For the first time in years, you felt like you weren’t alone.

And that—just that—was enough to keep you going. For now.

---

One of the local churches was having a retreat set up for the women in town. Clara had been talking your ear off about it at Sunday church, spouting how excited she was to get out of the house.

You listened half-heartedly, but really you were thinking about what a perfect excuse it was to flip this into a lie for George.

You told Logan you couldn’t run away with him, but that didn’t include spending these few days with him, maybe off somewhere in a nearby town.

Most of the women in town were very religious, and at times you felt like an outsider. You didn’t believe like they did, but you kept up a perfect front to make them believe you felt the same way.

“Maybe we’ll have another sewing circle this time. Whaddya think?” Clara asked, a wide grin splitting her face as she held her hat against the October breeze.

You gave a noncommittal hum, tugging the sleeves of your dress down to cover the faint bruises on your wrists. “Maybe,” you murmured, though your thoughts were far from sewing circles and prayer sessions.

The retreat was perfect. It would get you out of George’s reach—at least for a couple of days—and give you the time you so desperately craved. More than anything, it meant time with Logan.

Clara didn’t seem to notice your distraction. “It’s always good to get away, you know? Some of these girls say the Holy Spirit really speaks to ‘em up there.” She gave you a knowing look. “Sometimes, you just gotta leave it all behind for a bit.”

You forced a smile. "Maybe that's what I need."

Clara squeezed your arm, oblivious to how you tensed. “See? That’s the spirit! Now you just gotta convince your husband.”

You swallowed thickly. George wouldn’t care about a church retreat if it kept up appearances. He didn’t pay much mind to you unless you were standing in his way—or if dinner wasn’t on time. A couple of days without you underfoot? He’d probably welcome the peace.

Later that night, after George had his fill of supper and slumped into his chair with a bottle, you tested the waters.

“You remember Clara?” you asked, keeping your tone light. “She mentioned a church retreat this weekend. Thought I’d go.”

George barely glanced up. “What for?”

“Some of the other women are going too.” You folded your hands together tightly, hiding your nervous fidgeting. “It’s just a few days. They’ll be praying and sewing... nothing much.”

George grunted, shifting in his chair. “You ain’t skippin' out on Sunday dinner.”

You bit your lip, nodding quickly. “No. I’ll be back before then.”

He waved you off with a lazy flick of his hand. “Fine. Just be sure you ain’t runnin' off to waste money.”

Relief washed over you so fast your knees felt weak. You ducked your head, murmuring a quiet, “Thank you,” before slipping into the next room. It had been easier than you expected—maybe too easy. But you weren’t about to second-guess it.

---

The next day, you told Logan.

You found him where you always did—leaning against the brick wall near the alley, a cigar pinched between his teeth. He straightened the second he saw you, his sharp gaze sweeping over you like it always did, searching for signs of hurt.

“I told George I’m going to the church retreat,” you said quietly, stepping close enough that the warmth of him reached you. “It’s this weekend. I’ll have a couple of days...” You let the words hang between you, heart pounding as you waited for him to understand what you were really saying.

Logan’s jaw ticked, his expression hard to read. “You sure?” His voice was low, the sound of it like gravel underfoot.

You gave a small nod. “It’s the only way I can get away.”

He exhaled through his nose, looking past you for a second before his eyes settled back on yours. “Where’s the retreat supposed to be?”

“About an hour north,” you said. “But... I’m not going there.”

Logan’s lips twitched, something almost like a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That right?”

“Yeah.” Your voice wavered slightly, but you forced yourself to meet his gaze. “I wanna be with you, Logan. Just for a couple of days. Somewhere... away from here.”

The smirk faded, replaced by something heavier, something that settled deep in his eyes. “You know what you're askin’, darlin’?”

You nodded. “I know.”

He didn’t move for a long moment, just stood there watching you with those steady, knowing eyes. Then, with a slow exhale, he reached for you—his hand slipping under your chin, tilting your face up toward his. His thumb brushed along your jaw, and the touch made your breath catch.

“Where do you wanna go?” Logan asked, his voice rough but gentle.

“Anywhere.” The word slipped out before you could stop it, and you hated how desperate it sounded. “Just... not here.”

Logan gave a slow, deliberate nod. “Alright,” he muttered, the barest flicker of emotion crossing his face. “Meet me at the train station Friday night. I’ll take care of the rest.”

---

Friday came quicker than you expected.

The afternoon dragged, tension curling in your stomach as you packed a small bag. You kept everything simple—a couple of plain dresses, your brush, and the few coins you’d stashed away in a tin under the floorboards. You told yourself it wasn’t permanent. You’d be back in a few days, and everything would go back to how it was.

At least that’s what you kept telling yourself.

When the sun began to set, you told George you were leaving. He didn’t even look up from his whiskey. “Just don’t come back actin' all high and holy,” he muttered.

You gave a quick nod, your heart pounding so loudly it drowned out everything else.

---

The train station was quiet when you arrived, your breath fogging in the cold night air. You spotted Logan almost immediately, standing near the platform with his hands shoved into the pockets of his coat. He wore the same tired expression he always did, but when his eyes found yours, something softened in his gaze.

“You made it,” he murmured, stepping closer. His hand found yours, rough fingers wrapping around yours like they belonged there.

“Yeah,” you whispered, squeezing his hand.

Logan gave a small nod toward the waiting train. “C’mon. Let’s get outta here.”

You boarded without hesitation, the door clicking shut behind you as the train rumbled to life beneath your feet. Logan led you to a quiet corner of the car, his hand never leaving yours.

As the train pulled away from the station, you glanced out the window. The town grew smaller, the lights fading into the distance until there was nothing but the dark, open night stretching out ahead of you.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself breathe.

Logan’s arm slipped around your shoulders, pulling you close against his side. His warmth bled into you, steady and unyielding, and for the first time in a long time, you felt safe.

“You alright?” Logan asked quietly, his lips brushing against the top of your head.

You nodded, leaning into him. “Yeah. I am.”

Logan didn’t say anything for a moment, but you could feel the tension in his body slowly ease as you settled against him. His arm was solid and steady around you, a quiet strength that made you feel secure. The train rocked beneath you, the rhythmic clattering on the tracks filling the silence. You closed your eyes, letting the sound and the warmth of Logan's presence wash over you.

For the first time in what felt like years, you could relax—if only for a little while.

"You got enough for a few days?" Logan asked, his voice gruff but soft, as if he was trying not to push too much too soon.

You nodded, pulling your small bag closer to you. "Yeah. Just the basics."

Logan gave a small grunt of approval. "We'll stop by a place I know, out of the way. You’ll be safe there."

"Safe..." The word hung in the air between you, heavier than you meant it to be. It felt like a luxury you hadn't been allowed for a long time, and the thought of it made your chest tighten.

Logan’s thumb stroked absently along your arm, a small gesture that grounded you. He didn’t press you for more, didn’t ask questions you weren’t ready to answer. That was the thing about Logan—he didn’t pry, didn’t demand anything from you. He just was. It was one of the reasons you felt drawn to him, why you kept finding yourself in his orbit.

But there was still so much you didn’t know about him. He’d never mentioned a family, never talked about where he’d come from or how he ended up here. There was a deep well of mystery around Logan, and sometimes you could feel it, the weight of something unspoken between the two of you. But you didn’t push him for answers either.

You shifted slightly, resting your head against his shoulder, the scent of cigar smoke and pine surrounding you. “Where are we going?”

"There's a place, up in the hills," Logan said quietly. "A cabin. No one's been there in a while. We'll be alone."

Alone. Just the two of you. The thought sent a ripple of excitement and fear through you, your heart skipping a beat. The idea of leaving everything behind—even if just for a few days—felt like a risk. But wasn’t that what you wanted? A break from George, from the town, from the suffocating weight of a life you never really chose.

“You sure about this?” Logan asked, his voice low, almost hesitant. “About… us?”

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of your decision settle in your chest. It wasn’t just about getting away anymore. It was about choosing him, even if it was only for a little while. A choice that could never be undone.

“I’m sure,” you whispered, lifting your head to look at him. His eyes met yours, dark and searching, like he was looking for any hint of doubt.

Logan’s expression softened, just a fraction, and he gave a slow nod. “Alright.”

The train continued its steady rhythm, carrying you further away from the life you knew and into something unknown. You couldn’t think about what would come after—about George, about the retreat, about the women who would notice your absence. All you could think about was Logan, and the way his hand held yours, like he didn’t want to let go.

---

The cabin was quiet, nestled deep in the woods where no one could find you. Logan hadn’t been lying when he said it was out of the way. You hadn’t passed another soul on the journey here, and the solitude felt like a blanket wrapping around you, warm and comforting.

Logan pushed the door open, the wood creaking slightly under his weight. The inside was simple—rough wooden furniture, a stone fireplace, and a bed in the corner, covered in a faded quilt. It wasn’t much, but it felt safe, isolated from the rest of the world.

“You can get some rest,” Logan said, setting your bag down near the bed. “Fireplace works, and there’s wood out back if it gets cold.”

You nodded, glancing around the room before your eyes settled on him. “Thank you.”

Logan’s gaze flickered, something unreadable passing across his face before he nodded. “Don’t gotta thank me.”

There was a silence between you, not uncomfortable but full of things unsaid. You wanted to ask him more—about why he was helping you, about what he really wanted from all this—but the words stuck in your throat. Instead, you stepped closer, your hand brushing against his arm.

“Logan…” you started, unsure of where you were going with it.

He turned to face you fully, his eyes locked on yours. “Yeah?”

You hesitated, then closed the distance between you, your hands reaching up to rest on his chest. You could feel the steady beat of his heart under your palms, the warmth of his skin through his shirt.

“I just… I needed to be with you,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. “You got me,” he murmured, his voice rough but sincere. “For as long as you need.”

Your breath hitched, and before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned up and pressed your lips to his. It wasn’t soft or tentative like you thought it might be—it was hungry, desperate, like you’d been holding back for too long.

Logan’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, and the world outside the cabin seemed to disappear. There was no George, no town, no expectations. Just you and Logan, and the fire that burned between you.

---

Later, as the fire crackled in the hearth and the two of you lay tangled in each other’s arms, you stared up at the ceiling, your mind racing with everything that had happened.

Logan’s hand trailed idly along your arm, his fingers brushing over the faint bruises you’d tried so hard to hide. His touch was gentle, but you could feel the tension in him, the quiet anger simmering beneath the surface.

“I’ll kill him,” Logan muttered, his voice low and dangerous. “If he ever touches you again.”

You tensed, your breath catching in your throat. “Logan—”

“I mean it,” he growled, his grip on you tightening slightly. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

You turned to face him, your hand resting on his chest. “It’s not that simple…”

Logan’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, there was something raw and painful in his gaze, something you couldn’t quite understand. But then he shook his head, exhaling slowly. “I just don’t wanna lose you. Not again.”

His words sent a chill down your spine, but before you could ask what he meant, Logan leaned down and kissed you again, silencing your questions.

The kiss was rough, full of unspoken things—promises, regrets, desires that neither of you could fully articulate. His lips moved against yours like they were trying to drown out the past, to focus only on the here and now. You kissed him back just as fiercely, your fingers digging into his skin, wanting to hold on to this moment for as long as possible.

For now, you didn’t want to think about George. You didn’t want to think about the bruises you were hiding, the lies you had to keep telling to survive. You wanted to focus on Logan—the way his body pressed against yours, the warmth of his breath, the way he made you feel alive.

When you finally broke apart, your breathing heavy, Logan stayed close, his forehead resting against yours. His hand brushed your cheek, and for a moment, the roughness of him softened, like he was letting his guard down.

"You should rest," he murmured, his voice low, but there was a strain in it, like he was trying to hold something back.

You shook your head slightly. "I don’t want to rest. I want to stay here with you."

Logan’s eyes searched yours, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face. He lifted his hand, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his thumb lingering on your skin for just a second longer than necessary.

“You know this can’t last,” he said quietly, the weight of the truth settling between you both.

You nodded, the ache in your chest growing. “I know.”

You had always known it couldn’t last. This was just a moment stolen from the real world—a fantasy that couldn’t survive the harshness of the life waiting for you back home. But that didn’t stop you from wanting it. It didn’t stop you from wanting him.

Logan’s hand found yours again, his fingers lacing through yours in a way that felt almost protective. He hadn’t let go since you’d arrived at the cabin, as if he feared you might slip away if he did.

“I wish it could be different,” you whispered, staring down at your intertwined hands.

Logan was silent for a long time before he spoke. “Me too.”

The fire crackled in the hearth, filling the room with warmth, but there was still a chill in the air, an unspoken tension lingering between the two of you. You could feel it in the way Logan’s thumb stroked absentmindedly across your knuckles, like he was trying to ground himself—trying to ground you.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked, your voice softer now. “Helping me, I mean.”

Logan’s gaze dropped to the floor for a moment, his jaw clenching slightly. When he looked back at you, his eyes were hard to read. “Because you deserve better than him.”

It wasn’t a full answer, but it was the closest he’d come to telling you why. You weren’t sure if he was holding something back or if he just didn’t know how to say it. Logan wasn’t the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, and you’d never pushed him for more than he was willing to give.

You nodded, accepting his answer for now. “Thank you.”

Logan’s eyes softened at your words, and he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You don’t gotta thank me, Y/N.”

You closed your eyes, letting yourself lean into him. For the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to just be. No pretending, no worrying about what came next. Just this—just him.

---

The morning light filtered through the small windows of the cabin, casting a soft glow on the wooden floor. You woke to the sound of birds chirping outside and the comforting warmth of Logan’s body beside you. For a moment, you allowed yourself to stay like this, your head resting on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this peaceful.

Logan stirred beneath you, his arm tightening around your waist as he woke. His eyes flickered open, and for a moment, he just looked at you, his expression unreadable.

“Mornin’,” he murmured, his voice still gravelly with sleep.

You smiled, the corners of your lips tugging up. “Morning.”

Logan gave a quiet grunt in response, shifting slightly beneath you. His hand was still draped over your waist, his fingers rough but warm against your skin. He looked at you through half-lidded eyes, his expression unreadable in the soft morning light, like he was trying to figure out if this moment was real.

“You sleep alright?” he asked, his voice still gravelly with sleep.

You nodded, brushing your fingers absently along his collarbone. “Better than I have in a long time.”

Logan gave a small hum, his thumb tracing circles on your hip. For a moment, the two of you just stayed like that—your body curled into his, the outside world forgotten.

It felt fragile, like if you moved too quickly or said the wrong thing, it might all shatter.

“Gotta admit,” you murmured, “it feels strange waking up like this.”

“Yeah?” Logan's lips twitched, just barely. “Strange good, or strange bad?”

A soft laugh slipped out of you. “Good,” you whispered. “Strange in a good way.”

He held your gaze, something flickering in his eyes—something like relief. But it was gone just as quickly, replaced by the same quiet intensity you’d come to expect from him. Logan wasn’t a man who wasted words, and that suited you just fine.

The clock on the mantle ticked steadily, marking the minutes passing in this stolen moment. You let out a soft breath and rested your chin on his chest, tracing invisible patterns on his skin with your fingertip.

“What time do you think it is?” you asked, though you didn’t really care about the answer.

Logan turned his head slightly toward the window, where the early morning sun was just beginning to peek through the trees. “Still early.”

“Good.” You nestled closer, unwilling to let the morning slip away just yet.

He didn’t say anything for a while, just ran his hand up and down your back in slow, lazy strokes. The motion was soothing—so different from anything you’d known in your marriage. With George, everything felt like an obligation, a duty. With Logan... it felt like choice.

Logan’s breath stirred your hair as he spoke again, his voice low. “You thinkin' about goin' back?”

The question hit you like a stone dropped into still water, the ripples spreading out in every direction.

You hesitated, your fingers stilling against his chest. “I don’t know.”

Logan’s jaw flexed, and you could feel the tension creep back into him. “If you don’t want to... you don’t gotta.”

“It’s not that simple.”

Logan gave a quiet grunt, his hand still resting against your back, though his grip tightened slightly. “It could be.”

You shook your head. “He’s my husband, Logan.”

Logan exhaled hard through his nose, and you felt the anger simmering just beneath the surface. “That don’t mean you owe him anything.”

The bitterness in his voice was unmistakable, and it tugged at something deep inside you—something that made you want to stay, to never go back to the life you’d left behind.

But it wasn’t that easy. It never was.

“I have to,” you whispered. “At least for now.”

Logan was silent for a long time, his hand resting heavily on your back. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough, almost reluctant. “You know where to find me if things get bad.”

It wasn’t a promise, not exactly—but it felt like one.

“I know,” you murmured, brushing a soft kiss against his shoulder.

Logan’s hand slid up to cup the back of your neck, his thumb tracing a gentle line along your skin. “You got somethin’ to say, darlin’, just say it.”

You closed your eyes, trying to find the words. “I just... I don’t want this to end.”

The admission hung in the air between you, heavy and raw. Logan’s grip on you tightened, his expression darkening.

“It won’t,” he said quietly, and there was a fierceness in his voice that made your heart skip a beat. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and for the first time, you let yourself believe—just for a moment—that maybe, just maybe, things could be different this time.

You pressed your forehead against his, your fingers tangling in his hair. “Promise?”

Logan’s breath was warm against your skin. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere, Y/N. Not this time.”

Something about the way he said it—like there was more weight behind those words than you could fully understand—made your chest ache. But you didn’t push for more.

Instead, you kissed him.

It was slow this time, tender in a way that made your heart twist painfully in your chest. Logan kissed you back just as softly, his hands cradling you like you were something precious.

And for a little while longer, you let yourself believe in the possibility of happiness.

---

The days you spent at the cabin away from everything with Logan were the closest you think you’d ever get to heaven.

But of course, it had to come to an end. Logan walked you back to your house, keeping to the shadows where the trees thickened along the road. Luckily, George wasn’t home yet, but you knew he’d be back soon. On Sundays, the men from the mines always went to the bar after church, spending what little money they had on whiskey before heading home for dinner.

Logan stopped a few steps short of the porch, his expression unreadable. His heavy boots crunched against the dirt, and he tilted his head, listening for signs of anyone nearby. It was quiet—just the soft rustling of the wind through the trees and the distant caw of a crow.

“Looks clear,” he muttered, glancing toward the road. Then his eyes were back on you—sharp, like he was committing every detail of this moment to memory.

You stood there, one hand gripping the hem of your plain cotton dress, the other clutching the shawl draped over your shoulders. It was getting colder, October creeping in around the edges.

Logan’s jaw tightened, and for a long moment, neither of you spoke. He shifted his weight, arms folding across his chest. “You sure you’re good?” His voice was low, rough as gravel.

“I’ll be fine,” you whispered, but the words felt thin, like paper stretched too tight.

His eyes flicked over your face, lingering on the bruise near your jaw that hadn’t quite faded. You saw it—the way his knuckles twitched like he wanted to tear something apart, or maybe someone. But Logan knew better than to push this conversation again. You’d had it more times than either of you cared to count.

“I mean it, Y/N,” he said, quieter this time, but no less serious. “If things get—”

“I know.” You cut him off gently, giving a small nod. “I know where to find you.”

Logan’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t argue. The porch steps creaked under your weight as you climbed them slowly, heart heavy in your chest. You reached for the door, but before your fingers touched the worn wood, you felt his hand wrap gently around your wrist.

You turned, meeting his gaze.

“You ain’t alone in this,” he said softly, his thumb brushing against the inside of your wrist. It was the kind of touch that made your knees weak—steady, solid, full of unspoken promises.

“I know,” you whispered, holding his gaze a second longer than you should have. Then you pulled your hand free, feeling the cold settle in the space where his warmth had been.

The door clicked quietly behind you, sealing you inside.

---

It was well into the afternoon by the time George came home. You’d set the table with what little you had—a pot of boiled potatoes, bread that was more crust than loaf, and a pan of cold pork you’d managed to stretch out since Friday.

George slammed the door behind him, the stench of sweat and beer clinging to his clothes. He tossed his flat cap onto the chair and grunted as he sat down heavily at the table.

“Where’s the roast?” he asked, eyeing the measly spread with disapproval.

“There wasn’t any.” You kept your voice even, steady, though your hands trembled slightly as you placed the food in front of him.

George gave you a hard look, his lip curling in disgust. “Useless,” he muttered under his breath, loud enough for you to hear.

You clenched your jaw, swallowing the sharp retort that burned on your tongue. Fighting him would only make it worse.

He ate in silence, the scrape of his knife against the plate the only sound in the small kitchen. When he finished, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and pushed his chair back with a loud scrape.

“Goin’ to bed,” he grumbled, already halfway out of the room before you could respond.

The knot in your stomach tightened, but you stayed still, standing in the middle of the kitchen long after the sound of his boots thudding down the hallway faded.

It was always like this. A dull, suffocating ache—day after day, night after night. And the worst part? You weren’t sure if you had the strength to keep pretending.

---

It was well past midnight when you slipped out the back door. The cold bit at your skin, and you pulled your shawl tighter around your shoulders as you made your way down the dirt path leading into the woods. The moon hung low in the sky, casting silver light across the clearing where Logan was waiting, his broad frame leaning against a tree trunk.

He looked up as you approached, his keen eyes catching the moonlight.

“Figured you’d come.” There was no smugness in his tone—just quiet understanding, like he’d known all along that you wouldn’t be able to stay away.

You stopped a few feet from him, your breath clouding in the crisp night air. “I couldn’t do it,” you admitted, your voice small.

Logan pushed off the tree and closed the distance between you in two strides. His hands came to rest on your shoulders, firm and grounding. “You ain’t gotta explain.”

You looked up at him, heart aching with everything you wanted to say but couldn’t. Instead, you leaned forward, resting your forehead against his chest.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. You felt the steady rise and fall of his breath, the quiet strength in the way he held you—like he’d fight the whole world just to keep you safe.

“I missed you,” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Logan’s grip tightened. “I know,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The night stretched on around you, silent and still, as Logan’s hands roamed up and down your back in slow, soothing strokes.

“You stayin’ tonight?” he asked quietly, his breath warm against your hair.

You nodded, letting out a shaky breath. “Just tonight.”

Logan didn’t argue. He never did.

He took your hand, lacing his rough fingers through yours, and led you deeper into the woods—away from the house, away from the life you were supposed to live.

And for one stolen night, you let yourself believe it was enough.

---

When you got home later that night, around 3 in the morning, everything looked normal. The lights in the house were all off, and it was quiet.

You hung your shawl on the hook by the door when you heard the clink of a bottle. Your heart sank. George was awake.

The small kitchen was dim, the only light coming from the dying embers of the fire. George sat slouched at the table, a nearly empty whiskey bottle in his hand. His eyes were dark, glazed over with drunken fury. You could tell by the set of his jaw, by the way his knuckles gripped the bottle too tight, that this wasn’t going to end well.

“Where’ve you been?” His voice was low, but there was an edge to it. His chair scraped loudly against the floor as he stood, his steps heavy as he moved toward you.

“I went to clear my head,” you said softly, keeping your voice calm, steady, though your heart pounded in your chest. “The air helps me sleep.”

George narrowed his eyes. “That so? 'Cause Johnny’s wife told me somethin' different. Said she didn’t see you at the church retreat.”

You froze. You had been at the retreat—briefly—but it was a cover for your meeting with Logan, and Johnny’s wife must’ve been one of the few people you didn’t see. You opened your mouth to speak, but the words stuck in your throat.

“I was there,” you managed, though you knew it wouldn’t matter.

George took another step toward you, his voice rising. “Don’t lie to me!” His breath stank of alcohol as he spat the words at you, the anger radiating off him like heat. “What were you really doin’, Y/N? Who were you with?”

Your stomach twisted in fear as his hand shot out, grabbing your arm hard enough to make you wince. “George, please—” you started, but he cut you off.

“I know you weren’t there. Where the hell were you?” He shook you, his grip tightening painfully around your arm.

You winced, biting back a cry. “I told you, I was there.”

But George wasn’t listening anymore. His eyes flicked to the door, then back to you, and a dangerous look settled across his face. “You been sneakin’ around on me, haven’t you?” His voice was low, deadly now. He released your arm with a shove, sending you stumbling back a step. “You think I’m stupid?”

“George, I’m not sneaking around,” you said, trying to keep your voice calm even though your pulse was racing. “I just needed some air. I—”

His hand moved faster than you expected, backhanding you hard across the face. Pain exploded through your cheek, and you stumbled, clutching the side of your face as tears sprang to your eyes.

“You think I don’t know?” George hissed, his face twisted with fury. “You’ve been leavin’ me here, goin’ off, God knows where. You ain’t foolin’ me, Y/N.”

You took a shaky breath, tasting blood where your teeth had cut your lip. “George, please—”

But he was already moving, crossing the small kitchen in two heavy steps. You saw the glint of metal before he pulled the shotgun from the corner near the door. Panic seized you.

“George, no—” Your voice broke as you held up your hands, trying to back away, but there was nowhere to go. The small kitchen felt like a cage, the walls closing in around you.

George leveled the shotgun at you, his hands shaking slightly but his eyes wild with rage. “You think you can just leave? You think you can just run off whenever you please?”

You felt like you were drowning, your heart pounding so hard in your chest it hurt. “I wasn’t leaving,” you whispered, trying to keep your voice steady. “I wasn’t—George, please, put the gun down.”

“Shut up!” he snarled, taking a step toward you. “You’re lyin’! You’ve always been lyin’, and I’m done with it.”

You were shaking, trying to think of something, anything that would get through to him. “I’m your wife,” you said quietly, desperately. “I’ve never wanted to hurt you. I—”

But the words didn’t matter. Nothing you said would stop this. You could see it in his eyes—the cold, determined look of a man who had already made up his mind.

For a moment, everything felt frozen. The ticking of the old clock on the wall, the crackling of the dying fire—it all seemed too loud, too slow. George’s finger twitched on the trigger.

And then, in an instant, the world shattered.

The shotgun blast was deafening, the sound tearing through the small kitchen like thunder. You didn’t even feel the impact at first—just a sharp, searing pain that spread through your chest, knocking the air from your lungs.

You stumbled, your legs giving out beneath you as you hit the floor hard, the cold tiles pressing against your cheek. Your breath came in short, shallow gasps, blood pooling around you.

The room swam, your vision dimming as you tried to focus, but all you could see was the dark shape of George standing over you, the shotgun still smoking in his hands.

---

Logan heard the shot before he smelled the blood.

His body reacted instinctively, his enhanced senses kicking into overdrive. He’d been lying awake, his thoughts consumed by you, when the sound echoed through the still night. There was no mistaking it.

His heart lurched in his chest, and without thinking, Logan bolted to his feet, running toward your house, his mind racing with fear. He knew. He knew it was you.

The smell of gunpowder hung thick in the air as he neared the house. Logan’s breath caught in his throat when he saw the door slightly ajar, the soft light spilling out into the dark.

He pushed the door open, his claws already unsheathed.

The sight that greeted him froze him in place.

You were lying on the floor, a pool of blood spreading out around you, your breaths coming in shallow, painful gasps. And standing over you, his face twisted with something like confusion, was George.

Logan’s vision blurred with red.

He didn’t think—he just moved. In a blur, he was on George, his claws slashing through the air. There was a sickening crunch as the bone tore through flesh and bone, and then George was on the ground, lifeless.

Logan didn’t care. His only focus was you.

He dropped to his knees beside you, his hands hovering over your body, desperate to stop the bleeding, but there was too much. The wound was too deep. “Y/N,” he whispered, his voice rough, desperate. “Stay with me.”

Your eyes fluttered open, but it was hard to focus. Everything felt distant, like you were floating just out of reach of the world. You tried to speak, but the words wouldn��t come. Blood bubbled at your lips.

Logan’s face hovered above yours, his expression shattered. “Please, darlin’, hold on. Just hold on.”

You coughed, the pain in your chest unbearable, and for a brief moment, your eyes met his. The world was fading fast now, slipping away like sand through your fingers.

“Logan...” you managed, your voice barely a whisper.

His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tears you didn’t even realize had fallen. “I’m here,” he choked out. “I’m here.”

You smiled weakly, even as the darkness closed in around you. “I… I love you.”

Logan’s breath hitched, his grip on you tightening like he could somehow hold you to this world. But you knew, just as he did, that this was the end.

“I love you too,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

Your chest ached, not just from the pain but from the weight of those words—the weight of knowing this was goodbye.

And then, everything went still.

You felt Logan’s hand in yours, the warmth of his touch lingering even as the world around you faded into darkness.

You weren’t afraid. Not anymore.

You were free.

Logan knelt there, holding you long after the last breath left your body, his heart breaking all over again.

in this chapter logan is 68 years old and reader is around 21-24 years old.

just a reminder that going forward there is going to be an age gap between the two since logan obviously keeps getting older.

[prozacwhorehouse]

instagram feeds - mgg x snl cast member gf ⭐️

——————————————————

hey guyss so this is not the promised piece because im still working hard and hardly working BUT i am happy with this sort of trailer for concept 😌

all pictures are taken from Pinterest but collages made by me !

instagram feed concept entirely inspired by @gibson-g1rl i love your insta aus 💗💗

hope you enjoy and i cannottt wait to get the full works out xx

y/ny/l/nforreal

❤️112k 💬 9k | liked by gublergram, marcellohdz and others

y/ny/l/nforreal not a moment of peace in this office @snl

marcellohdz: who is that dashing gentleman in the first pic

—> y/ny/l/nforreal: @marcellohdz idk I think it’s Colin Jost?

longfellow_michael: YOU are the reason there’s no peace.

❤️ by author

—> egonwodim: longfellow_michael disrespect my baby one more time. 😡

martinherlihy: Hey so I think you put the wrong selfie because I’m not in that one lol 😂😂

—> y/ny/l/nforreal: Noo i dont fink so

criminalmindsfanatic: MATTHEW LIKED???

—> hotchqueen4: HELLO??

—>mggrumple: THR FRIENDSHIP WE NEVER KNEW WE NEEDED

—————————————————————————

mggupdates

❤️8k 💬358

mggupdates: Matthew with mystery girl in New York City, rumored to be comedian and SNL cast member y/n y/l/n

y/nfan: YUPPP THOSE ARE HER NAILS AND SHE HAS THAT RING!!!

—> unknown9495: @y/nfan I noticed that too!!

mggy/nfanclub: someone posted that they saw them it’s def her!!!

—>user63: @mggy/nfanclub pls tag me omg

movieluvr: livinggg for this friendship/relationship 😫

—> girlpwr88: @movieluvr46 i want him so bad

—> prncsspch: @girlpwr88 him?? I want HER

spencerreidswife: we lost him guys 💔

————————————————————————

y/ny/l/nforreal

❤️ 116k 💬 13k | liked by gublergram, marcellohdz and others

y/ny/l/nforreal recently in nyc

marcellohdz: sonny ANGEL 💜

—>y/ny/l/nforreal: @marcellohdz you need to be stopped

gublergram: rubber duck

❤️ liked by author

—> randomuser281: @gublergram MGG WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE??

—> whore4spencerreid: @gublergram HUH??

—> mggstan: @gublergram oh they for suree dating

—> spencerreid2005: @mggstan they could also just be good friends??

—> emilyprentissfan0: @randomuser281 someone PLEASE tell me if they’re dating

janewickline: coffee dates with my wife >>>

—> y/ny/l/nforreal: @janewickline marry me.

—> janewickline: @y/ny/l/nforreal I do. 💍

—————————————————————————

y/ny/l/nforreal

❤️106k 💬18k | liked by y/ny/l/nforreal, yourbsfuser and others

y/ny/l/nforreal my friend wrote a book and it is quite nice. now he’s giving free copies out on his book tour which is why he’s broke anyways go read 💚

gublergram: thank you y/n this is the best publicity I’ve ever recieved!

—> y/ny/l/nforreal: @gublergram sure thing do you need a money loan too

—>yourbsfuser: @y/ny/l/nforreal Y/N 😭😭😭

—>spencerreidwhore: she ends him every day and I love to see it

y/nfancentral23: BROKE SHE CAME FOR HIM BYEEE

user18834: FRIEND?? we were all ROOTING for you 💔💔

randomuser: can we talk about how cute it is that she’s promoting his book 🥹🥹

—>matthewy/nshipper: @randomuser890 IK I love them so bad 😭

—————————————————————————

gublergram

❤️382k 💬30k | liked by y/ny/l/nforreal, kirstenvangsness and others

gublergram you make me laugh every day. maybe it’s because you’re a comedian im not sure happy birthday 😊

y/ny/l/nforreal: wow thanks get rid of these pictures

—>gublergram: @y/ny/l/nforreal no

cmaddict: he’s def so in love with her omg

—> snlbiggestfan: @cmaddict1 I meannn who wouldn’t be

—>randomuser: THE it couple I love them so bad

—————————————————————————

gublergram

❤️300k 💬27k | liked by y/ny/l/nforreal, aubreyplaza and others

gublergram bet you didn’t know y/n is also a professional makeup artist. i look spookier than ever @y/ny/l/nforreal

y/ny/l/nforreal: I just screamed

❤️ by author

cmfan3747: stoppp she’s doing his gublerween makeup now 🥹🥹

—> hater123 @cmfan3747 she’s almost 20 years younger than him. mad weird

—>yourshipnamestan @hater123 so they’re both adults hope this helps! ❤️

y/nfandom45: when is it my turn for a relationship like theirs 💔💔

—>user284: real asf 😖

—>troller293: so you want an inappropriate relationship with an inappropriate age gap?

—>user48: bro shut up

—————————————————————————

y/ny/l/nforreal

❤️130k 💬 22k | liked by gublergram, marcellohdz and others

y/ny/l/nforreal it appears your smile has always been contagious. happy birthday old man

gublergram ❤️

gublergram: old man? i retract my previous comment.

❤️ by author

bsfsusername: THE LAST PIC HELLO

—> y/ny/l/nforreal: @yourbestfriendsuser the og hitch hiking ant

marcellohdz: gross ushy gushy caption delete this

—> y/ny/l/nforreal: @marcellohdz I still love you!

—> marcellohdz: @y/ny/l/nforreal better. 😊

—————————————————————————

mgg x SNL cast member tag list <3

@sarcasm-and-stiles @mystargirl-interlude @rubyirene @ashrrams @ghostatrixx @forevermorepassionate @saint-boudica @reidmarieprentiss @awakeforu @spencerlicious @kittycat-april @baudarling @delusional-4-fake-people @avenlymars @angelinajolie0213 @arusio @littleslayofhorrors @jezabelle9299 @jaemnationnn

[libraryofgage]

@skullrockbi i hope you don't mind that i wrote a little thing this idea literally haunted me in my dreams and became my paralysis demon (affectionate)

---

Steve didn't even want to go to Vegas. He got dragged along because he's technically an executive-to-be and this whole trip is some networking/ass-kissing venture to secure that executive position. He doesn't know what the point is when his mother owns the company, but here he is.

Worst of all, this trip was scheduled for the summer. In Las Vegas. A literal desert.

Steve isn't some newbie when it comes to Vegas; he's got some family out here that he used to visit every summer. In fact, he'd rather be awkwardly catching up with them right now than standing in front of the Bellagio fountain surrounded by...friends...he guesses.

Honestly, he'd trade just about anything to be back home right now, sprawled across his couch with Robin and a box of pizza.

"Let's visit the Venetian next," Jackson says, grinning as he watches a pair of girls walking by. His eyes linger on their asses, and Steve elbows him roughly.

"Is the casino good?" Eric asks, tugging at the collar of his polo to air out some of the heat.

A breeze pushes by, ruffling Steve's hair in the wind. He huffs, running his fingers through it as the fountain begins its water show. A chorus of oohs and ahhs and camera noises start around them as a cool mist lands on the back of Steve's neck.

"Does it matter? A casino's a casino," Phineas replies.

It does, in fact, matter. Steve bites his tongue, holding back the urge to explain that some casinos are better than others. He's not going to gamble anyway. He's just going to watch the others spend their money and try not to cringe when they jokingly ask him to lend them more from his endless supply.

"Great, Venetia--"

Jackson is cut off by some guy shoving him and Eric aside. The guy completely ignores the offended noises and shouts, coming to a stop right in front of Steve.

He's wearing leather pants and a slightly cropped shirt for some band that sounds vaguely familiar from Robin's ramblings about up-and-coming musicians. Chunky rings decorate his fingers, and Steve tries very hard to not get distracted by them. His hair is wild but utterly defeated by the dry heat of Las Vegas and a subpar shower routine.

Steve opens his mouth to ask what the guy wants when he drops to one knee, staring up at Steve like he's some kind of deity sent from above. "Will you marry me?" he asks.

His voice is rough, like he spends most of his time screaming. Maybe he does, considering the band shirt. A few feet away, Steve can see three other guys in similar outfits sporting the pained grimaces of second-hand embarrassment.

"Are you drunk?" Steve asks.

"On love."

Ignoring the mocking laughter from around them, Steve finds himself inexplicably saying, "You don't even have a ring."

The guy blinks, curses, and quickly yanks one of his rings off. He holds it up with a grin, his cheeks slightly flushed as he asks, "How about now, big boy?"

The ring is shaped like a bat with rubies for eyes and diamonds for fangs. It's so ridiculous that Steve finds it endearing. The guy is being genuine, and that combined with the nickname makes his cheeks warm.

"You don't know my name," Steve says. "I don't know yours."

"Eddie Munson, but I'm not attached to Munson if that's an issue."

Steve can't help laughing, pushing his fingers through his hair again. He watches Eddie's eyes track the movement, his lips slightly parted as though he's breathless from something so innocuous.

He's about to introduce himself and tell Eddie to stand up already (that can't be good for his knees), when Phineas nudges him. "Steve, man, knock it off. You aren't gay," he says, his lip curling in slight disgust at the word.

Steve feels something in him snap, some tight hold on his control just giving up. He has a sudden realization: he hates his job, he hates his coworkers, and he hates who he is around them. He's just never done anything about it.

On the other hand, he finds himself utterly enamored by Eddie's clearly impulsive audacity to approach some random guy on the street and ask for his hand in marriage.

He ignores Phineas and looks back at Eddie. "Why?" he asks.

A hopeful smile tugs at Eddie's lips, and he starts to fidget with the bat ring. "Honestly, you're gorgeous. I've literally never seen anyone as pretty as you, sweetheart," he says.

"Can we have a chuppah? And break a glass?"

"I'd marry you in a vat of tapioca pudding, Stevie."

Steve snorts and reaches out, tugging on Eddie's arm to pull him up from the ground. "Let's just stick to the chuppah and glass," he says.

"Wait, is that a yes?"

"Well, it's not official until you put the ring on," he says, offering Eddie his left hand.

With a shell-shocked awe like he didn't think this would actually work, Eddie slides the ring onto Steve's finger. It's an odd, unexpected weight, but Steve likes it.

Corroded Coffin are celebrating an album release in Vegas. Eddie gets bored of the VIP area at the club & wanders The Strip. Standing at the Bellagio fountain is the most beautiful man he’s ever seen. Eddie pushes past some douchey looking dudes in business casual to reach him.

Eddie falls to one knee. “Will you marry me?” Steve who is bored with his business man life and hates his friends takes one look at this random proposing man with wild hair and leather pants and says “Yes.”

[love4pascal]

I’ll Say, Will You Marry Me?

Joel Miller x F!reader.

A/n: Okay never did I think that after I posted my first fic that people would like it as much as you did. I honestly wrote the first part as a one shot and I had no intention on writing another part but I am so glad that you all have enjoyed it so much that you requested a part 2. SO HERE IT IS!

Word count: 3k+

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, fluff, pure bliss, and these two being stupidly In love.

Part One Here

August 23, 2008.

Joel grabbed the last box from the moving truck, walking up the hot pavement and entering the home.

Placing the last box in Joel’s bedroom; a part of you felt like this was a dream, you were dating your best friend and now you living with him?

It felt to good to be true. The most loving and caring man you were once just friends, who now you’ll kiss goodnight.

“Who’s up for some good ol’ hamburgers and hotdogs for dinner?” Joel asked both you and sarah.

“Fine by me, dad!” She yelled from the staircase, on her way to her bedroom.

Joel turning his focus on you now.

“I’ll help you.” On your way to the kitchen to grab the hamburgers and hotdogs.

Joel stood at the back door for a few seconds more, admiring the woman he loved, before he even knew he’d loved her.

And god was he ecstatic to know that he’d get to wake up with you next to him.

-

After eating dinner outside, you, Joel, and Sarah cleaned everything up.

When done with that, Sarah suggested that there should be a ‘Miller movie night’.

Cuddled up with Joel and Sarah under a plaid blanket, watching “Twilight”, which Joel asked manny questions about.

“Wait, so you’re telling me he’s how old?!” He asked Sarah.

“He’s 104.” She says, eyes remaining on the tv.

“Oh.. so he’s just going after a seventeen year old like thats perfectly okay?” He spoke looking at you and Sarah, seeing both of you hysterically laughing at him.

“What? Why are you guys laughing??” He says sitting up.

-

An hour into the movie, Sarah was passed out. You grabbed the remote off the table and pressed the red button, the room went black.

Joel moving the blanket off of Sarah before picking her up and carrying her to bed.

Folding the blanket and placing it in the basket next to the tv stand.

Walking up the stairs to Joel’s bedroom, putting on a Fleetwood Mac shirt you had stole from him and pulling on black pajama pants before finding joel in the ensuite bathroom.

Bare chest and gray pajama pants, brushing his teeth. Coming up behind him and resting your cheek on his back.

“What’s wrong baby?” Running his toothbrush under the facet water before putting the protective cap over the bristles and setting it in the holder.

“Nothing, I’ve just never been this happy.” Laying a kiss on his shoulder.

You catch his smile through the mirror before he’s turning and throwing you over his shoulder.

There’s hushed laughs released from both of you.

He sets you on the bed, leaning down to capture your soft lips in his.

Your legs find themselves around his waist as your hands grabbed at his shoulders, pulling him closer to you.

“Can I take this off.?” He tugged at the bottom of your shirt.

“Yes.” Helping him take off your shirt, the shirt being tossed somewhere in the room.

He unclasps your bra.

He pressed a trail of hot, soft kisses to your neck, his mouth tracing over your skin and down as his mouth finds your nipple.

You moan softly as his lips meet your midriff, his tongue swirls around your skin, making you squirm in desire and need.

Joel briefly removes his lips from your midriff with a ‘pop’, a string of saliva had been left, but quickly broke when your back arched; urging for Joel to continue.

Joel’s warm hands wander down, inching closer to your heated core, you’re getting wetter by the second.

Your hands scamper around, finding solace in Joel’s hair whilst he spreads your folds through your panties. His finger slowly, rubbing up and down. You gasp at the contact.

He continues to rub circles onto your clit, sometimes back and forth — almost tauntingly.

“Honey…Please don’t tease me,” you muttered weakly, getting lost in the near pleasure he gives you.

The chuckle Joel lets out is dark, a contrast to the soft airy kisses he rested upon your plump lips.

“What’d I tell you about patience, darlin’?” Joel murmurs against your pouting lips, he kisses you again, but there’s more force behind it. Your teeth clatter against his as his fingers pick up their pace.

Joel groans as you tug on his brunette tufts of hair. Joel then inserts two lengthy digits into your hole, making you cry out. To who exactly? You’re not even sure. You can’t be, not when his beard scratches your face just right, and his fingers model a ‘come hither’ motion inside of you.

Joel nips your lips before lowering his head to your pussy. He wastes no time in absolutely devouring you. You lay your hands on his shoulders, almost trying to get him closer.

He’s licking and sucking everywhere, all you can do is mewl out to him, letting out several ‘fuck, Joel!’s and even a ‘it feels so good!’.

His nose bumps your clit as he replaces his fingers with his tongue. “H-holy shit Joel! Right there baby!” You exclaim, voice cracking due to the strain.

You tightly wrap your thighs around his head, nearly suffocating him; just the way he likes it. “Baby..Baby! I’m-I’m so…” Your voice gives out, reducing to nothing but a whimper. Joel can tell you’re close.

He then pops back up from your legs, beaming at you proudly as you’re spread out for him.

You whine due to the lack of contact, Joel bends a bit to kiss your shoulder.

“Awe,” he drags out, “Don’t worry, peaches. Y’know I’m gonna take care of ya.” His southern drawl makes you ache for him.

Joel’s hands push down his pants painfully slow, he’s toying with you on purpose, but you love every second.

His thumb hooks around his boxers, allowing him to remove his sweatpants alongside them in one go.

Seeing him completely bare takes away the cold you feel due to the slight chill of the room. He’s breathtaking, you don’t know how else to describe it.

“Yeah? You think so honey?” His grin is nothing short of a cheshire.

You gape at him, not realizing that you actually said that out loud, but before you can think about it too much, Joel’s sliding his pink tip against your folds.

Your chest is heaving, you’re antsy and Joel finds it delicious.

“Y’ready peach?”

“Always.” You reassure with a slight nod.

Then, Joel pushes his cock into you, you swear you can count every inch entering you.

He pulls out almost entirely, then slams back into you. A choked gasp leaves your throat while Joel starts to find his pace.

Your nails find their place on Joel’s back, scratching deeply in satisfaction.

“Y-Yeah..That’s it darlin’. Squeeze me just like that.” Joel manages to groan through his gritted teeth.

His hips slap against yours, and you both are chest-to-chest. He can feel your breasts bounce up and down against him due to the force, and it nearly makes his mouth water.

Joel reaches his hand up, pushing some stray hairs behind your ear, murmuring, “You’re s’pretty, baby.”

“Ha-ah. I’m cumming, Joel!” Your voice remains somewhat hushed, but you can’t help but get louder as you get closer and closer.

“C’mon, peach. Joel’s gotcha, go ahead ‘n give it t’me.” Joel moans at the feeling of you clenching oh so sweetly around him.

Your back arches off the bed, Joel’s arms wrap around your frame to hold you, as you find your release.

You continue to squeeze Joel’s cock as you come down from your high, and you feel him twitch inside of you, signaling to you that he’s close as well.

His head rests in the crook of your shoulder, making it more than easy to whisper to him, “Cum for me baby.”

You feel spurts of his warm seed shoot inside of you as Joel lets out an earth-shattering groan.

He lays on you for a few minutes, regaining his bearings, before flipping down onto the bed next to you.

“You’re incredible, y’know that?” Joel slurs, moving his head slightly so he can get a good look at you. You’re both disheveled and sweaty, chests rising then falling just as quickly.

“So I’ve heard.” You smirk at him cockily, making him chuckle and shake his head playfully.

“Mhm…Let’s get you cleaned up, peach.” He kisses you again then picks you up bridal style, you giggle and hold onto him tightly as he walks you to the bathroom.

December 30, 2009.

“And you’re okay with this.?” Joel was at the edge of his seat fidgeting with the black ring box, it was important to ask Sarah for her permission about proposing to you.

Sarah was Joel’s first priority, he’d never want Sarah to be uncomfortable or unhappy in her own space.

“Dad, you know I love her like how I love you. I’m 100% okay with you asking her to marry you.” She grabs at her father’s hand.

“Plus It’d be nice to have another girl in this house.” She pokes her dad before giggling.

“I’m glad to hear that baby girl.” He pulls his chair closer to hers, engulfing his daughter into a tight embrace.

June 22, 2010.

You and Joel had been dating for 2 years and you couldn’t be anymore happier than you are now.

Your nights in the Miller residence always consisted with either a movie night in the living room, or playing board games before bed.

Tonight consisted of a certain Miller taking you to a fancy restaurant. Joel had told you earlier that morning that Tommy had offered to watch Sarah so that you two could have a nice dinner by yourselves.

.. Without hearing about a classmate who throws pencils across the classroom and is rude to their teacher.

You had gotten home before Joel so you decided to start getting dressed, you wanted time to be able to do your hair and finalize your outfit without feeling rushed.

You and Joel had waited for a reservation at this restaurant for months and you two weren’t gonna be late either.

After picking out a white floral sundress and doing your hair and makeup, you head downstairs to hangout with Sarah as you wait on Joel and Tommy.

30 minutes later Joel was walking through the front door in a new pair of jeans and a white short-sleeve linen button up and a bouquet of flowers.

Followed by the young miller brother who was the babysitter of the night.

“Hey darlin’.” he greeted you with a small smile.

You stand up to meet him halfway, taking ahold of the bouquet.

“Joel these are beautiful!” He smiled, shrugging one shoulder of dismissal of your thanks.

“I knew you said something about these flowers not too long ago, saw a guy selling them near a site I was working at. Couldn’t help but think of you.” You press a soft kiss to his lips.

“I love you so much, Joel Miller.” You smile, before walking to the kitchen and looking for a vase.

Placing the flowers into the vase that now sat of the dining room table, walking back to him, your arms wrapping around his shoulders.

“You look beautiful.” He murmured to you, brushing his down your arm as he glanced at the dress you had on.

You’d picked it out for this occasion, the soft white material making you feel soft and beautiful.

“Thank you! You clean up nice too..” you giggled at your tease, giving him a soft kiss to the cheek before taking his hand into yours. You were eager to get to the restaurant; you’d been waiting to try this particular place for ages and finally you had got a reservation."

Before leaving the comfort of your home, you said goodbye to both Sarah and Tommy.

“Don’t do anything irresponsible.” You pointed at Tommy. “I know you’re 26 years old but still, I’d like to come home to the house in one piece.” Before pulling him into a hug.

“Sarah, please watch uncle Tommy.” Sarah laughs at your comment about her uncle.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll make sure he’s on his best behavior!” She giggled and pulled you into a small hug.

Walking over to Joel, who’s stood at the front door.

Sarah runs over to her dad before capturing him is a tight embrace.

“Bye dad, have fun!” She said as he moved her curls behind her ear.

“I will babygirl, be on your best behavior for uncle Tommy, okay? Patting her head.

“Okay dad!” He kissed her cheek and you and Joel walked out the house.

You walked to the passenger side of Joel truck, before Joel approached you, watching as he reached down to open the passenger door for you and held it open, standing back for you to get inside.

“Well thank you.” He grinned, smiling as you got in.

“No problem darlin'. ” softly closing the truck door, walking around the baby blue truck and hoping into the driver side.

The truck engine lightly roaring as Joel started the car and pulled out of the driveway. Soft music plays as you turn the corner and enter the main road.

-

The restaurant is elegant, with dim lighting that casts a romantic glow over the patrons. Soft jazz plays in the background, creating a soothing ambiance

“Name under the reservation.?” The young blonde asked Joel.

“Uh, Joel Miller.” He shoved his hands in his pocket, rocking back and forth on his heels. Which was a nervous tic for Joel that you’d picked up on over the years.

“If you want to follow me this way, I can take you straight to your table.” She grabbed two menus and a specials menu before walking you two outside.

���Ladies first.” He motioned in front of him.

“Such a gentleman Joel miller.” Smiling softly before quickly grabbing at his hand and pulling him behind you.

Sitting down at much fancier tables than the one you and Joel had in your dining room. Beautiful black and gold menus with intricate letters, placed neatly on the table beside the spoon, knife and forks wrapped in nice fabric.

"Can I get you guys something to start with? drinks? maybe an appetizer?"

"I'll have a glass of red wine." the young waitress quickly wrote your drink down on her note pad.

"ill have a glass of water.. oh and can I have a lemon on the side?" Joel anxiously tapping his fingers on fabric covers wood.

"yeah, of course. I'll be right out with your drinks!"

“I heard they have really good steak.” he quirked his eyebrow.

“You’re gonna turn into a steak.” laughing a little too loud for this kinda restaurant, not before looking around to see if anyone was looking at you like you had two heads.

The young waitress, Brooke, which you had read from her name tag, came back with the three drinks.

“Thank you.” the both of you said reaching for the drinks.

“Are you guys ready to order, or do you need more time to think?” it was almost telepathically telling Joel that you were ready to order if he was.

“Yeah, we’re ready to order.” both telling her what you’d want off the menu.

“I'll have the steak, medium rare, with broccoli and mash potatoes.” he says as he hands the menu to the waitress.

“I'll have grilled chicken with mushrooms, and broccoli and mashed potatoes, please.” following what Joel did, and handing her the menu.

“Alright. I’ll get those right out for you both.” Joel watches as the waitress leaves, his gaze returning back to the woman sitting in front of him.

“What are you looking at?” you tease.

“What, can’t a man take a moment to admire how beautiful his girlfriend and best friend looks?”

“Joel Miller, you're a very cheesy man.”

-

After placing the order for the food, conversation engulfed the both of you.

Twenty minutes flew by and food was finally on its way to your table.

The waitress placed the meals in front of you, and waved down another waitress to refill your wine glasses.

The both of you half way done your food, feeling too to finish what was left on your plates.

“Joel this was really nice, I’m really glad we got the chance to do this.”

“Well I'm glad you had a good time, my peach!” reaching for your hand from across the table.

“I got one more thing to show you tonight.” he grinned

“Oh yeah?” You watched as he flagged down the waitress for the check.

After Paying the check, you and Joel walked down what Texans called the ‘Texas boardwalk’, down to the sand to watch the sunset.

You two sat down on the soft but grainy sand, listening to the waves crash together, in blissful peace.

“I feel the happiest I’ve ever been.” Looking at the man beside you.

“That’s weird because.. I was just about to say the same thing.” His chocolate brown eyes are finally finding yours.

“Yeah, that’s so strange? It’s like we’re meant to be or something??” Letting a soft giggle out.

“I want to show you something.” Before even realizing what he said, he was standing up somewhat quickly (old man lol) and grabbing your hand to pull you up with him.

“Of course!” He was pulling you along, whatever it was he was bursting with excitement.

“Joel, baby slow down, whatever it is you want to show me will still be there in a few minutes.” You laugh at his eagerness.

“Sorry. Sorry, I’m just really excited to show you.” He slowed down a little bit and you were still kinda jogging.

“Okay we’re almost there but I need to blindfold you.?” He said nervously.

“Okay.?” Closing your eyes as the cold feeling of the blindfold covered your eyes.

Joel grabbed both of your hands to guide you to wherever he was taking you.

“Are you ready?” He asked, grabbing ahold of where he tied the blindfold.

“Yes?” He slowly pulled on the blindfold. The millions of candles were making it hard to focus on the big sign that said ‘will you marry me’.

There was Tommy and Sarah standing by the sign smiling all bright.

“You two!” You laughed pointing at them.

You walked closer, the word on the sign finally clicking.

“Are you being serious??” Shocked was the only emotion you had right now.

“Yes baby.” He smiled, getting down on one knee.

“Oh my.” Tears were forming, hands were shaking, your emotions were everywhere.

“Peach, ever since I’ve known you, you have always been the light to my darkness. You were there to help me with Sarah, you were there when I could barely keep the light on, you have been my rock for all of these years. Two years ago when we decided to take our relationship to the next level and start dating was one of the best days of my life. Not much changed, and I think that’s what amazes me everyday. So I’m asking, will you marry me, peach?” He said as he pulled the ring box out of his pocket, before opening the box and pulling out the ring.

“Yes, Joel miller I will marry you.” Tears are falling down your face as you hold your ring finger out, while he slides it on.

Not before he quickly gets up and picks you up, spinning around before pulling you into a kiss.

Joel slowly places you down as Sarah comes over and wraps her hands around both of you.

“I’m so happy for you guys!” She said tears softly falling down her cheeks.

“Thank you babygirl.” You said as you rubbed her back to comfort her.

Tommy walked over to embrace his older brother in celebration.

“Congrats brother, you're finally getting married!” He said, patting his big brother in the back.

“Thank you, I couldn't do it without you and Sarah helping me set this all up.” He smiled at his younger brother.

“Anytime.” Smiling at his brother. “Go back to your kid and your fiancée, I’m gonna load this stuff up in the truck.”

“Alright, holler if you need help!” Joel yelled towards Tommy.

-

After helping Tommy load the stuff in the back of his truck, the rest of the miller family headed home.

You, Joel and Sarah hooped into your pajamas and watch a new movie on the couch.

You cuddled up against Joel and Sarah cuddled up against you.

“Im so happy that I’m gonna be able to marry you.” You said in a hushed tone.

“Weird, I was just about to say the same thing.” He smiled.

And before you all knew it, the whole miller family was peaceful asleep on the couch.

[anadiasmount]

https://www.tumblr.com/anadiasmount/766146994146295808/could-you-write-something-about-jude-realising

I loved the only jude pov idea so could you write something about jude telling his (and/or your) parents that he wants to marry you and he’s been thinking about it for a while and that he’s convinced you’re the love of his life and he will do anything he can to prove it to you every single day

this might be a little rough but hubby jude has my heart… 😕😕

“here’s your morning juice and vitamins, don’t forget we have a dinner tonight,” you half understood jude as he spoke quickly, he was late for training like usual, but he never left without saying goodbye. whether you were awake or not, a kiss on your cheek and he was gone for the day. though today seemed different, felt different but you brushed it off.

jude was running late to his appointment, he had no training today but you didn’t have to know that. he went to a small yet very popular jewelry store in downtown madrid, where he had picked out your dream engagement ring. he needed your friends help and they were more than willing to make that trip and helping out a nervous jude.

the ring was set to pick up, and he would ask for your parents blessing tonight when you visited them. you were oblivious, they were oblivious. only your friends and him knew about this. yet all he wanted was the scream that he was closer to marrying you. he had no doubt that you’d say yes. jude knew you wanted to get married, with him. you had drunkenly confessed after a night out and reminded him weeks later when you said your first “i love you’s”.

so jude was ready. you were ready.

you had graduated and landed your dream job. he considered you as his wife already. you knew him from the back of your hand but with jude, he wouldn’t fail to answer any questions related to you. whether it was from your favorite foods, to a movie, to a makeup product, to a favorite memory, he knew all of you. inside and out.

your friends had gasped and covered their mouth, eyes tearing up when jude showed them the ring. they all were in awe, jude especially since it was getting real for him. he couldn’t deny that feeling in his chest, getting choked up with his own emotions, knowing you were his forever home. the only home he wanted to be in, in this life and the other. “it’s absolutely gorgeous jude!” one of you friends reclaimed.

“our y/n is going to love it!” replied your other friend to while jude let out a breath of fresh air. “when do you plan to pop the question?” they asked, “after international break, we have a couple days together and i want to take her on a small getaway. but i want to get her parents blessings first, which we’re doing today because we’re going over,” jude nodded, hearing them let out a small squeal of excitement.

“look mom…” jude whispered, his dad sitting down next to her as jude pulled out the red velvet box from his back pocket. “is this what i think it is?” she gushed, opening the box gently, her hand resting against her chest as she admired the ring. “having this around me is so tempting you don’t understand. all i want is to ask her to marry me,” jude smiled, immediately thinking of you.

“i don’t even have to ask if you’re sure, your eyes and smile say it all,” his dad said making jude look at them. “we’re happy for you both. there’s no doubt in my mind that the two of you are made for each other. while marriage can be hard, it’s also the most beautiful thing that’s ever been created. she’s your soulmate, protect that forever,” his dad continued, standing up to give jude a hug. where he couldn’t contain his emotions.

“thank you guys for everything…”

on the way back, jude had picked up a few groceries and snacks for you. along with his bouquet of flowers since it was time to get a refresh. making sure to stock up on waters and different beverages as well.

after a while jude had returned back to your house, immediately looking to see where you were. “y/n? darling?” he asked, “in here! i’m in the study!” you yelled, meeting jude by the doorway where he engulfed you into his arms. “god i missed you so so much,” he murmured, smelling the sweet scent of your hair. you tippy toed and pressed a small kiss on his lips.

jude laughed at the small state you were in, hair in rollers, and he was guessing setting powder beneath your eyes and nose. “i’m almost done getting ready, i just had to quickly take a call because they needed me to give authorization for something. do you know what you’ll wear?” you say as you walked into the kitchen and drank water.

“yes i do…” jude couldn’t stop staring at you, that look he gave you full of love and respect. “i know i look funny but it’s just the powder,” you laughed, “stop! why are you looking at me like that!” you exclaimed walking over to where he sat. “because i love you, but you do look a little goofy with this on,” he joked feeling the playful slap on his shoulder. “go get ready! now before we catch traffic!” you said seriously while jude just nodded.

while jude anticipated to be nervous, he wasn’t. the sense of comfort yet worth filling his head. this was a huge deal, asking your parents for their blessing. but jude could radiate the answer from a mile away. the love you had together was so traditional and old school, the two of you loved that. it didn’t exist much these days, but the love you and jude had made everyone around you feel alive and happy.

as the night filled with laughs and talks of the past, you had taken over and helped your sister in law with the babies. jude knew this was his chance so he booked it, watching as you disappeared and went upstairs. “could i talk to you both?” he whispered seeing how their faces pulled into confusion but followed him either way. the three of them sat in the living room, jude pulling the ring back out from his back pocket.

“i’ve never in my life been so tempted to risk it all for a person. y/n is my person. my happiness. my home. my all in this world. i never knew if i’d find that. but with y/n it was a quick and undeniable feeling. i feel like i’ve known her my whole life. she knows me more than i know myself, and i knew she’s the one for me since she’s stood and sacrificed for our love…” jude said, your mother letting out a few tears as she looked at the ring.

“it would be an honor if i could have your blessing to marry your daughter. i promise you now i will take care of her forever. not just for marriage, but it’s because im giving you my word. because i love her with my entire heart…” jude asked shakily, knowing how much this meant to you and him. knowing this is just a step closer to finally having your happy ever after.

“you have my blessing jude,” your dad said, standing up and hugging him deeply, knowing there’s no hesitation because jude has never given them the reason. that he knows jude isn’t lying and will stick to his word. “yes you can marry my little girl,” your mother gushed going to jude and hugging him tighter, the two men laughing. “you did an amazing selection with the ring… she will love it,” she said.

“i’m willing to prove whatever it takes to show her how much i love her…” jude sealed. “what are you all doing without me,” you came back with a huge smile, joining your parents and boyfriend.

“i want in on whatever it is…”

[thewalrusespublicist]

Re-posting this again with a few funky amendments because the people seriously think that being soulmates is enough against McLennon (these are once again coming from a mclennon romance agnostic).

Paul has called them soulmates

They shared dreams and Paul still dreams of John regularly 50 years after John died

John reportedly dreamt of Paul often and had dreams of touching Paul (which we have him recorded asking Paul about)

People at their staff offices reportedly called Paul John’s princess

Multiple people referring to them being married/loving each other more than married couples

Yoko TOLD JOHN’S BIOGRAPHER THAT JOHN CONSIDERED AN AFFAIR WITH PAUL. YOKO. JOHN’S WIFE.

John wrote ‘funeral’ on Paul’s wedding photo of him and his first wife whilst leaving a tender message beneath a photo of him and Paul

John reportedly wrote about Paul in his diary as much as he wrote about his wife and child

Paul’s first wife (the lovely Linda) said that they were the mirror image of each other and that their relationship was ‘deeper than we will ever know’

Paul’s ‘if I see a face in anything, it’s going to be John’s’

After the break-up John would listen to Paul’s records and cry

John thought the ‘I love you’s’ in one of Paul’s songs were for him

They actually fully believed they had a telepathic bond

‘It’s almost like we’re lovers’ and all of Get Back basically

Weird extended eye contact that freaked people out it was so intense

Beat the Meatles

John wrote a song with loads of hidden references to Paul. In it he tells the subject (highly likely to be Paul) not to cry, that they can return to their telepathic state and that he will now love him more than ever

On that same note John told Paul the song Jealous Guy was for him. The track again apologised for making someone cry but the singer (John) was scared that they didn’t love them any more and he panicked

John wrote a short story in which he fucks a ‘person’ in Paris in the George V hotel after doing ‘Methodist acting’. John went to Paris after filming a movie in 1966 to see Paul. They had also stayed at the George V hotel on their other trips there. The girls name that he’s supposed to be having sex with is a play on the word ‘Poppers’ and her genitalia is alluded to be male. There are multiple other euphemisms to gay sex in the passage (‘treading lightly on the loafers etc). The ‘girl’, his little Aime, insists they listen to ‘God Only Knows’ by the Beach Boys. This was and is one of Paul’s favourite songs and the song he insisted John listen to on repeat in … you guessed it, 1966

They both got married within 8 days of each other. John insisted on getting married the MINUTE he heard Paul had

John wearing an ‘I Love Paul’ badge around New York

John told his friend Harry Nillson that like everyone ‘he fell for Paul’s looks’

When John died Paul was one of three people Yoko called, the other two were John’s Aunt who raised him and John’ first son. He was that important

Paul getting married to his third wife (first wife died, second marriage a shit-show) on John’s birthday (after John had died) and giving a tribute speech for John on the day

Paul holding onto one of John’s songs to get it released FOR THIRTY YEARS. Technology had to catch-up to do it but he did it!

There’s a book now

Like last time, this isn't even the half of it.

Best RPF Ship - Round 5 Match 2

[rohirric-hunter]

I need that "whole man disposal services" image printed on cards to hand to my coworkers who just casually mention that they're frustrated about how they can't get their baby daddy on to their insurance because he won't marry them and he's making them pay for his hospital stay which he's having because he got beat up by some drunk guy for hitting on his girlfriend and they have to visit him after work but they really don't want to because they're gonna have to bring their daughter and he always screams at their daughter.

A story I have heard in almost exactly that form with only slight variations multiple times from multiple different people. I tried to be nice at first but at this point I'm just like, "Dump him. Block his number. Do not go visit him at the hospital, do not pay for his hospital stay, he got himself there he can damn well pay for it." And they're like, "Oh but deep down he really loves me/us," and I'm like, "Does he pay child support?" and they're like, "Well, no, but..."

The whole man, girl

[sincere1ystar]

Shining just for you

coriolanus snow x fem! reader

After things get messed up between the two of you at the gala, Corioanus is desperate to fix things between you two again

authors note: guys when i mean desperate i mean DESPERATEEEE

Everyone always said that the C in Coriolanus Snow stood for calculating. What a silly saying, because when it came to you the C in Coriolanus Snow stood for clueless.

The image he built himself as a man who oozes with power crumbles in a matter of seconds around you. You liked it that way, you knew it was just a persona and if life hadn’t pushed him around the way he did he would’ve stayed soft.

When the two of you first met you didn’t fall pity to his charms like the rest of the peers around you. He liked that about you, you were diligent. You had beauty and brains, unlike those lifeless souls that threw themselves at him as they fluttered their eyelashes. He considered himself lucky to call himself yours and he wasn’t afraid to show it either. Every gala he was there right on your arm, and if you didn’t encourage him to go converse with the other party-goers  to others he probably would have stayed there.

You had built a home in Coriolanus’s heart, love was too weak a word to describe his emotions towards you. He didn’t consider himself a violent man, but for you he wasn’t afraid to roughen up the edges of himself. To make his image seem more powerful than it already was, so people would fear him and not even think about hurting you. 

Of course he got invited to many galas, it was only natural considering he had made a name for himself now. Still, he viewed them all as pointless affairs and if you weren’t so fond of going to them he wouldn’t bother to even step foot in the venue. 

Although his signature color is a shade of deep red, he often matched whatever color you were wearing. Tonight it was a cerulean blue to match your dress of the same color. The only thing that stayed the same was the white rose in his handkerchief pocket that eventually ended up behind your ear. 

As you’re finishing up the final touches to your look Coriolanus comes behind you, adjusting the straps of your dress as he leaves soft kisses on your neck.

“Coryo we’re gonna be late-“, you try to protest but he quickly silences you with a soft kiss to your shoulder.

“We can spare a few minutes can’t we darling?”, he cooed.

By the time you manage to drag him to the car sent for you two, you’re already late to the party. Not like Coriolanus cares though, it was time well spent.

Usually when the two of you arrive to any sort of event, he would stick by your side for atleast the first part of it until some buisnessmen or some senator pulled him away. But this time since your arrival was later than usual, the minute you two walked through the doors some of his fellow associates dragged him off to discuss business. You don’t mind much, knowing he has work to do as you walk over to a few friends of your own.

While you enjoy yourself, chatting away like the social butterfly you are, Coriolanus finds the whole event to be tedious and torturous . He wasn’t even paying attention to what his colleagues were saying, too busy stealing glances at you giggling as your friend told a story about her latest date. He’s so intrigued by observing you as if he was stuck in some trance, that he doesn’t notice Aurelia, a woman married to a local senator whom she openly despised, practically throwing herself at him.

He doesn’t snap out of it , not until he feels her red painted lips slightly touch the tip of his ear. The only thing he feels in that moment is utter disgust. The fact that someone other than you attempt to get this close to him was appalling. Did she not see the wedding band on his finger?

After chatting away with your friends for a while, you politely excuse yourself to make your way to Coriolanus since it seems that all his fellow politician friends have now left. Just as you’re about to approach him, you notice her. The woman who is all over Coriolanus, as if she wasn’t married already to another senator and he wasn’t already yours.

You’ve always been the confrontational type, which is why it’s no surprise when you come up right beside them ready to tell Aurelia to back off. Well that was before you overheard her say in that sultry voice of hers, “A man like you shouldn’t be stuck at some flimsy party like this Coriolanus. I bet you want to get out of here don’t you? Y’know my hotel room is better than any party…”

Before Coriolanus responds, you storm out with anger hot on your heels. How dare he. You decide to just go home, taking the car despite Coriolanus still searching for where you went. He can find his own way home. Better yet why doesn’t he get a ride with Aurelia, surely there’s another spot left in her husband’s car.

Your rage doesn’t die down, even as you reach the manor and tuck yourself into bed. You don’t have too much time to notice how empty it seems with Coriolanus’s side of the bed being vacant before he rushes in, his words overflowing out of his mouth. But it’s all a blur to you, tuning him out completely as you shift your body to face the wall while pulling the blanket up.

It’s not until late at night just as you’re about to fall asleep, when you realize he’s begging.

“Darling.. darling please”, he mumbles almost pitiably. He continues desperately kissing your skin with your back still turned to him. “Didn’t even notice what she was doing.. was too busy looking at you”.

You don’t say anything in response and continue staying still, but you’re not pushing him away and Coriolanus takes this as a sign to keep going. “I pushed her away the minute I noticed what she was doing. I would never be unfaithful to you darling, you know that… you’re the only one for me”.

The stubborn part of you wanted to continue to ignore him, but the more reasonable side of you decided to hear him out. “I suppose… I was overreacting just a little bit. Fine”-, you start before you were cut off by his kisses.

“Thank you. Thank you sweetheart… I know I don’t deserve it”, he rasped while leaving little frantic kisses all over your face, “Don’t deserve your forgiveness. Don’t deserve you”.

“Not so stoic and cold are you now Coriolanus Snow?”, you think to yourself. Oh how funny it would be if all his politician friends see how he acted under your finger.

[redrose10]

Trope- exes. Who didnt end badly, still has residual feelings for each other & met again at a mutual friend’s birthday dinner/hangout (?) with prompts 36 & 46 ? 🤎

I went with Yoongi for this one since he’s like 99% of the requests I get. I hope that’s okay!

< I Will Always Love You >

Yoongi x Female Reader

Warnings: A few swear words

#36 “Are you finished, so you’ll listen to me?”

#46 “And I’m here to save you.”

*******************************************************

Twelve months…two weeks…four days…five hours. That is how long it’s been since you last saw him. Since you last saw Yoongi. That night your world came crashing down. The two of you had been arguing all week. Little things here and there.

He left a dirty coffee cup on the counter and an argument ensued.

You forgot to pick up his medicine at the pharmacy on your way home and he took it personally.

He did a load of laundry and accidentally shrunk your favorite sweater. He offered to buy you a new one that night but you felt like he did it out of spite.

You accidentally knocked over a glass of wine all over his laptop causing it to short circuit. He could easily afford a new one but it was the principal of it all that upset him.

The final straw was when he skipped date night. He left you sitting at home alone for hours watching the meal you had worked hard on go cold. When he finally walked through the door he said you guys needed to talk and you agreed. After almost two hours of you both pouring out your hearts you both agreed that your three year relationship had run its course and it was best to go your separate ways.

So you found yourself a cute little apartment several blocks away. Yoongi made sure to stay out of the way as you and your best friends Jungkook and Jin helped you pack up and move all of your things. As you were leaving Yoongi told you to take care of yourself and that he would always be there if you ever needed anything. You told him to the same even though you both knew deep down you would never contact each other again. You gave him a hug and walked out. That was the last time you saw him.

Because even though you shared many of the same friends it was surprisingly easy to avoid him. It also helped that it seemed like he was doing the same. One of you was always conveniently busy or sick so it worked out.

Except tonight. Tonight was the one night you couldn’t avoid. One of your good friends Jimin was getting married. He made you promise not to skip out on the wedding and of course you agreed even though you really wanted to, especially after getting confirmation that Yoongi would be there.

Things had gotten easier as time went on over the last year or so. You stopped crying over him every day. Then you stopped thinking about him every single day. You heard that he had started dating some woman a few months after your breakup. It hurt deeply but it also motivated you to try and move on too. You went on a few dates here and there. You had a small thing with some guy named Namjoon but even though he was really sweet and nice and handsome that fizzled out after a couple of months leaving you single again.

You somehow managed to get a last minute date for the wedding though. Your neighbor. He was cute but you quickly found out he was arrogant and rude. The first thing he said to you was how he thought your dress would be shorter and you had to watch him check out practically every woman at the wedding while you were sitting right next to him. Even though you were miserable and feeling more alone than ever as you watched Jimin saying ‘I do’ to the love of his life you still did your best to fake happiness.

Jimin and his new bride walked down the aisle and as you turned to see them off you saw him. Yoongi looked as beautiful as ever, his hair was longer and his suit was somehow casual yet still wedding appropriate and looked great on him. He was smiling at Jimin and his bride before looking back and smiling at a woman. She was gorgeous with a smile almost as beautiful as his. He looked happy and content and even though you felt a small burning sensation in your chest you were happy for him.

Cocktail hour flew by and then it was time for the reception. You did your best to avoid Yoongi as much as you could through the evening. You caught little glimpses but thankfully it didn’t seem like he saw you at all, or at least he was pretending like he didn’t which you appreciated.

Dinner was served and then you sat through several speeches. Jimins best man Hoseok recounted several funny stories, a few of which you personally remembered, and it felt really good to laugh like that again.

Then the dance floor was opened up. Your date surprisingly asked you to dance. You accepted and headed to the floor. Even though he was dancing with you, his eyes were scanning over every other woman within the vicinity. At one point he even creepily licked his lips earning an eye roll from you.

“Hey uh you ready to go? I think we should find a room so we can finally be alone.”, he mumbled in your ear.

“No thanks.”

“Come on Y/N, don’t be such a prude.”

“She said she’s not interested. So I suggest you fuck off. Maybe try one of the other women you’ve been staring at all night.”, a very deep and very familiar voice said from behind you.

Yoongi and your date were having a stare down before your date scoffed mumbling something about you not being worth the trouble and walking away.

“Want to dance?”, he asked stepping in front of you.

Speechless you nodded. As he placed his hands on your hips it felt like your body was on fire and you wanted to lean into him to savor the feeling.

“Yoongi I…I thought you were here with a date.”, you questioned.

He smiled, “I was…I was dancing over there with her and then I saw how uncomfortable you were and now I’m here to save you.”

You quickly backed out of his grasp, “What?! Yoongi I’m not going to be the reason you two break up. You’re disgusting for doing that to her.”

You stormed out to the balcony area needing some fresh air. Yoongi followed closely behind.

You had tears already forming from all of the emotions you were struggling to sort through, “Leave me alone Yoongi. Please just go back to your date. I’m not going to be the reason something happens between the two of you. I don’t want her to get upset with me or think I’m trying to get you back or something.”, you pinched the bridge of your nose trying to stop the tears from falling, “I just want you to be happy and you looked so happy earlier and that makes me so happy and I just…”

You were in a panic thanks to feeling guilty because what if she saw you two and feeling angry that he would do that to her and feeling hurt at the reminder that he wasn’t yours and finally feeling a sense of relief at having him so close once again. The comforting mix of his cologne and shampoo taking you back to a simpler time but making it all worse.

He lightly chuckled before wrapping you in his arms allowing you to cry into his chest, “Y/N, are you finished, so you’ll listen to me?”

You nodded, though refusing to look at him.

“She’s not my date like that.”, he said causing you to finally look up at him in confusion. He used his thumb to wipe away the tears on your cheek.

“She’s just a friend.”, he said making you roll your eyes. He laughed but continued, “She’s just a friend who has a huge huge HUGE crush on Hobi but was too nervous to ask him out. She asked if I would be her date tonight until she had a couple drinks and worked up the courage to tell him.”, he turned and smirked, “And it looks like it worked.”

You looked over and saw Hobi and that woman slow dancing while smiling lovingly at each other.

Yoongi continued, “And if you must know I was so happy earlier because I got to see you Y/N. I miss you. I was hoping you’d be here but then I saw you had a date. Jimin said he was no one but I didn’t want to overstep any boundaries.”

“Yeah he was a mistake more than anything.”, you grumbled getting a smile out of Yoongi.

He wrapped his arms around you again and you allowed your body melt into his, “I missed you Yoongi.”, you mumbled into his skin.

“I missed you to Y/N. Fuck, I was so stupid for ever letting you go.”

“I should’ve fought harder too. I was just so tired of the arguing and feeling like everything was falling apart.”, you sniffled feeling tears begin to form again.

“Hey hey don’t cry any more. Y/N I hate seeing you cry. I’m here now. And maybe…maybe if you want to…we can start over.”

You looked up taking in his soft features and he gave you a small smile.

You nodded and gave his cheek a kiss which he happily received.

At some point someone had cracked open the door to allow the chill air to fill into the reception room which also let the soft hum of the music stream out onto the patio.

“They’re playing our song.”, you smiled as the familiar tune of I Will Always Love You rang through the air. Yoongi had sung the song to you one night after your first big fight. You were convinced that he was going to leave you. He wasn’t great at speaking his mind so instead he pulled you down on his lap and sang the song trying to do his best Whitney Houston impression. He did it to cheer you up but also let you know that no matter what happened between you two he was always going to love you. After that night it became your song.

Yoongi smirked, “Yeah I think our friends might’ve had something to do with that.”

He was was pointing inside and you saw a group of your friends staring at you both while giggling and giving you a thumbs up.

“Well if they want a show then we’ll give them a show.”, he said before taking your hand, “Y/N will you dance with me?”

Your heart felt like it was going to burst but you agreed before he quickly twirled you around and back into his comforting arms once again.

[radfemsiren]

Remembering my Afghani American best friend from my islamic elementary and middle school whose dad would get drunk every night and beat the shit out of her mother. She begged and begged for sleepovers because strangers in the house would make him leave, and I never told my parents about the situation (I lied and said she had no father or brothers) because I loved spending time at her house and staying up the whole night doing all the things we weren’t allowed to do that was “haram”… watching rated r movies, playing horror computer games, dancing to music videos on YouTube, cat walking in heels and makeup, scaring ourselves with creepypastas.

I remember we had a million stupid ass discussions about who the purple guy from five nights at Freddies was, or what a slenderman proxy meant, or if there were illuminati signs in Katy Perry music videos, or if emo drawings of Jeff the killer were hot. We’d whisper fight if Beyoncé or Lana del Rey was a better singer, or if teen wolf or maze runner had cuter boys. She was team Beyoncé and teen wolf.

We had to constantly be separated in school for talking, and we hated the creepy janitor and would throw wads of wet paper towel on the bathroom ceiling for him to clean up later. We got into so much trouble together, and would always smirk at each other in detention when we got yelled at. We’d shoplift lipsticks from the mall, and throw away expensive Quran transliterations from school, and sneak into the teachers break room and steal handfuls of ice and throw them on the imam/principal’s desk when he was gone to ruin his paperwork.

I moved away like I always had to do with my constantly migrating family and we lost touch. The last time I saw her in person was when we were still kids at her brothers wedding. I was laughing while I tried to ask her why the bride kept changing into different brightly colored dresses throughout the night. She wasn’t listening, and she burst into tears and cried about how her brother was just like her father and did every horrible thing he did. I held her and squeezed her so tight I thought her bones would break.

I recently tried to reconnect with her again but she’s already married, pregnant, and has abandoned social media and texting because it’s “haram.” Trying to talk to her was like speaking to a stranger… she had no interest in any of the things we would spend hours playing with before. “Islam is important to me now, I’m a new woman. We were messed up kids, it’s time to grow up.” She told me to never contact her again and hung up the phone.

Sometimes I feel like I failed her, and sometimes I understand that I was a girl trying to survive too.

One day I’ll save money to travel back there and talk to her in person. I’ll snap her out of it. We’ll spend all night up together again doing every terrible thing our teachers and parents and religious leaders warned us against, and laughing the whole way through it. We’ll get kicked out of bars and get into trouble and snicker our way through it all, knowing we’ve already won. I still have her dirty, worn, my littlest pet shop horse she gave me when we first met. I hold it in my hands when I see news of the what’s happening to the women of Afghanistan, and I feel like I’ve failed her again. That I’ll forever be stuck an immature child and her a miserable adult, both of us doomed, unable to be saved from our fates in the end.

[ladiesworldsblog]

Well, let me tell you something about that scene.

She’s the girlfriend of the junior boss of the law firm in he US, where my wife made her first steps in her career. That company made a lot of money and Junior was an arrogant bully to me. I really hated that guy, but he was generous in some way, if he got what he wanted.

We weren’t married or engaged at this time, but had been in a relationship for some months already. So he invited us to a boat trip on his dads really impressive yacht. It was fun, we enjoyed ourselves and had a great time. We had separate cabins, but it was obvious that he was interested in my sweetheart.

I already knew, she wasn’t a saint and she had my allowance and maybe even my encouragement to have fun in life, so she enjoyed some other cocks beside mine. I was completely fine with that and could handle that quite well.

Junior knew about this and he bullied my with his skills in bed and his cock size. He told me, that he had have my sweetheart and he show how it made me hard as he said it. His grin was so fucking big.

We partied that evening, enjoyed a good meal and some drinks, danced and joked around. But I also saw him groping my woman on the dancefloor, I guess, I even caught him as he put his hand into my sweethearts panties. But I didn’t do or say a thing.

Suddenly they disappeared and his girlfriend came to me, asking me, if I‘m ok? I nodded and she gave me some company, asking me, if I knew, that he was interested in her and surely will spread her legs for his big dick, getting screwed in his cabin. And she could clearly read the excitement in me, saw my bulge and teased me hard. Telling me how good he‘s in the bedroom, how good his cock feels in a wet silky pussy. She showed me her bare boobs and her erect nipples.

And it was just too much for me, as she came close and whispered in my ear, if I mind when she joins them in the cabin for a threesome. He had told her, how delicious her pussy juice tastes and that she loves to scissor with her as well. I came in my pants and she giggled and said she‘ll take this as my approval.

I had a short hard night alone in our cabin, I could hear them having fun in the captains cabin and got hard by that lovely moans and scream from both females. He was a fucking bastard and I lost count of the amount of orgasms he spent my sweetie.

I was up early in the morning and needed some fresh air and enjoyed the sunrise on deck as I saw his girlfriend coming upstairs, her gorgeous body barely covered. She gave me a good morning kiss and I could smell her breath dick. She said my sweetie has sent her and told her that I‘m really good and eager at licking cum-filled pussies.

Before I could react, she pulled her panties down to her ankles and let me get a look at her swollen, sweaty and cummy pussy. Gosh, she had beautiful lips and I dropped to me knees and just had to kiss her. She tasted so wonderful and she loved what I was doing there.

She gasped, she moaned, she pulled me closer into her needy cunt. She was getting close and just as he screamed out an intense orgasms, I heard the voices of my girlfriend and her bosses son coming upstairs as well, asking me, if I‘m already enjoying my breakfast. She squirted and pushed her juices mixed with some of his sperm deep down into my throat.

[mcleantriestowrite]

Bad Idea - Pt 1

Synopsis: Your step-brother is in debt to Rafe Cameron. Knowing he won’t be able to pay Rafe back, you step up. What a bad idea.

18+

Series content warning – smut (not yet), swearing, slow burn, depictions of aggression, jealousy, drug usage, violence, underage drinking

Chapter content warning – mentions of drug usage, violence

***

Life sucks – that’s what your dad always used to say when you would complain about anything. 

Something among the lines of: “Life sucks, kid. Get used to it.”

In response, you would argue with him that life was great and that he was just being negative. Your dad would always do the same thing once you began your argument with him. He would look at you with that same patronizing look, shake his head, pat the top of yours, and reply: “You’ll see.”

You did see. 

You saw what he meant the day you realized that he wasn’t coming back from that fishing trip with his buddies.

You saw what he meant when your mom met someone new. You saw what he meant when she fell in love. You saw what he meant when they eventually got married. 

You wanted to be happy for her, and you actually really liked the guy, but your mom moving on meant that you needed to as well. You couldn’t live in denial anymore. Your dad was never coming back. And even if he did, he wouldn’t actually be back. That man – your dad – would never really be your dad again.

You continued to see what your dad meant so many times in the next five years of your life after he left. You tried to not let the pessimism cloud you, but it was hard when your dad’s theory was consistently proving itself right.

Now, coming home from a double shift that was originally supposed to be a single, you couldn’t help but remember that very same sentiment. 

Life fucking sucks.

You shut the car door, and made your way into the house. All you wanted to do was shower and go to bed. If only life were ever simple for you.

A loud crash from the backyard makes you snap your head over to where the noise came from. It was dark out, and despite living in a much wealthier area than you did five years ago, you still felt as unsafe as you did when you were living in that small house on the Cut.

You look towards the glass doors leading to the backyard. Hesitantly, and very stupidly, you took a step towards the noise.

“You dumb bitch,” you mumbled to yourself. “This is literally how you get yourself killed.”

As you got closer, you heard more noise – grunting, cursing. You almost turned back around to run up the stairs and lock yourself in your room, but you heard your step-brother cry out. All worries about personal safety were thrown out the window. You ran outside without thinking. The sight in front of you made you freeze up.

Your step-brother was pinned to the ground by Rafe Cameron. And he was getting the absolute shit beat out of him.

You felt your heart hammer in your chest. Rafe was from the wealthiest family in the Outer Banks. Kook king. Gets everything he wants. Drug addiction. Anger issues, to put it lightly. You had seen those anger issues be taken out several times from afar. Seeing it up close and personal made you feel overwhelming dread.

You decided to act first and think later. You ran at full force towards the kook, using all strength to shove him off your brother. Rafe stumbled a bit, not expecting anyone to interfere.

“What the hell, man?!” You yelled at him. You stood in front of your step-brother, trying to act like a shield. 

Rafe stared at you, his chest heaving. He gave you a once over, but it was obvious he wasn’t really paying attention to you. “Go inside, pogue.” He waved his hand to dismiss you like you were nothing but a small nuisance to him.

You heard Carson on the ground behind you groaning in pain. You felt protectiveness swell in your chest. “The fuck are you doing?” You repeated with more force.

It was hard, but you kept eye contact with Rafe. You knew he was trying to intimidate you. You weren’t going to let it work.

“Carson and I were having a discussion.” Rafe gave a small shrug as if the answer was obvious.

You nearly laughed in anger. “A discussion?”

Rafe didn’t say anything, he only continued to stare at you. It remained clear to you that he expected you to do as he said and to just go inside.

To just go back inside and ignore the fact that someone you loved was getting hurt.

Fuck this guy.

You tilted your head up towards him defiantly. You said the first thing you could think of, despite how dumb it was. “Leave before I call the police.”

You heard Carson groan louder, obviously upset with your sentence. You ignored him.

Rafe laughed, taking a step closer to you threateningly. “You’re gonna call the cops on me?”

A prickle of fear hit your stomach as he began to close the distance. You held your arm out in front of you to stop him from getting any closer.

He stared at you like you were nothing. Like your threat meant nothing. To be fair, those things were probably true to him. Rafe Cameron had the means to get out of any situation. Even if you did actually call the police, you were sure that Rafe would get out of it without a scratch.

You did your best to keep your voice steady. “Leave.” You seethed.

Rafe brushed you off with a small shrug of his shoulders. “I’m not leaving until I get my money.”

That single sentence felt like a push the way it caught you off guard. You looked behind you to Carson, who had his eyes shut tightly in pain. You grimaced at the blood on his face. You turned your head back to Rafe hesitantly.

You watched him for a moment, hoping he would elaborate, but he just stared at you expectantly.

“...What money?” You asked.

Rafe started laughing, making you pull your eyebrows together. You hadn’t felt this confused in a long time, but you tried your best not to show it.

Rafe walked closer to you making you tense up, but he didn’t touch you. He looked over your shoulder to your step-brother, who was just now starting to get up.

“Oh, does she not know?” Rafe taunted. He pointed at you while talking to Carson as if you weren’t even there.

You looked between your brother and Rafe slowly, trying to fill in the blanks. Carson was completely tensed up. You eyed him carefully.

What did you not know?

“I told you. I’m getting your money–” Carson said, lowly.

Rafe shook his head, a deceiving smile on his face.

“Been hearing that for a week now, man. I want my money. Now.” Rafe tried to walk past you, but you stepped with him to prevent him from getting to Carson.

“What money?” You repeated. You tried to put more distance between yourself and Rafe. You didn’t like how close he had gotten.

“Your big brother over here,” Rafe gestured to Carson mockingly, “is a coke head. He’s late on his payments.”

Your lips parted in shock. You quickly shut your mouth, trying to seem unphased. “He’s the coke head here?” You shot back.

You heard Carson say your name in a warning tone. Yeah, it was probably a bad idea to rile up someone like Rafe, but you didn’t want him to think that he had the upper hand here. Even though he so clearly did.

Rafe clenched his jaw. “I’m getting my money one way or another. Either he coughs it up, or you can explain to your parents why their shit is missing.”

You shut your eyes, trying to remain calm. You let out a deep breath. “How much money does he owe you?”

You stood there in silence, waiting for Rafe’s answer. For a moment, all you could hear was Carson’s labored breathing.

“$750.”

Your eyes snapped open. This time you weren’t able to hide your reaction. Your head flew towards your brother in disbelief.

“Seven hund–?” You cut yourself off. Carson looked away, unable to meet your eye. 

How the hell did he manage to spend that much? Carson didn’t even have a job. How was he planning on paying Rafe back? Was he going to steal it from his dad?

You shook your head to clear it from the questions flying in your mind. Those were going to have to be placed on the backburner. You did your best to focus on the pressing matter at hand.

Carson owed Rafe money. Carson did not have said money. Rafe was going to do whatever he needed to do to get what he was owed. You needed to step up.

You felt yourself getting distracted by your thoughts again. Why did Rafe need the money so bad anyway? Wasn’t his family millionaires or something? $750 had to be, like, pocket change or something to a guy like him.

You took a deep breath.

“I, um, I have, like $350 on me right now.” You pat your pockets for some reason as if the money wasn’t inside.

“YN, I can–” Your step-brother started.

“Shut up, Carson.” You snapped. You looked back at Rafe. “I’ll have more after work tomorrow.” You assured him.

Rafe shook his head, irritation on clear display. “I’m not waiting anymore–”

You looked at him sharply. “Well, you’re gonna have to.” Your tone was harsh, and it clearly caught Rafe off guard. He masked the shock quickly.

“I don’t know who you think you’re talking to, pogue, but it ain’t me.” He got in your face, and you tried your best to remain looking confident.

You didn’t feel confident, but maybe if you pretended like you were then eventually you would be for real.

“If you want your money,” You told him calmly while stepping towards him so that you were toe to toe. “Then you’re going to wait.” You flickered your eyes between his, trying to look stern.

Rafe stared at you for a few moments before an amused look graced his features. He looked away, laughing to himself. He nodded his head a couple times and looked back to you.

“You work at The Wreck?” He asked.

You were a little surprised that he knew this, but you didn’t dwell on it for too long. You nodded your head.

“Alright.” He smirked a bit, looking you up and down. He laughed to himself once more. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

He brushed his shoulder past yours as he made his exit from your backyard through the gate.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

“YN, I’m so sorry–” You heard Carson speak up.

You held your hand up, cutting him off. “Just give me a minute.” You told him.

You walked towards your home and tried to control your breathing. Panic was fully setting in. You felt the coldness of it traveling through your veins.

Your step-brother was in debt to one of the most powerful people on the island.

Oh God, you thought. What were you going to do?