#this year wasn’t the best for me personally

[wonsroyalty]

forbidden, 박성훈

pairing/warnings: 6.4k,, sunghoon x f!reader, brothers best friend, smut, jake and his sister are lowkey spoilt children!!

a/n: my og bias!!! i love sunghoon so so much omg, literally the prettiest boy ever.. hope i did him justice with this trope cause school is kicking my butt😓

masterlist

It wasn’t a secret to say that you wanted your brothers best friend.

You remember the day that Jake brought him over to your house. He was skinny and awkward looking but Jake, the ever-giving saviour, took him under his wing.

Sunghoon truly was innocent before he met Jake. Your brother corrupted him, turning him into a carbon copy of himself.

One time you asked him if he ever missed his old self and he responded harshly asking if you were crazy. Who knew that adopting a fuck boy persona could change a person so drastically..

Sunghoon was over at your house constantly, after school every day, every weekend, every holiday. You were convinced he didn’t ever spend a dinner at his own house.

At first it annoyed you because having two Jake’s at home wasn’t very appealing, but you knew that there was still a part of the old Sunghoon, deep, inside his now cold heart.

Your senior year was an absolute whirlwind, no annoying Jake to pester you and complain about your outfits, no claims that you were slutting yourself out to get the attention of his friends, no Sunghoon.

You didn’t really miss Jake’s presence while he was at university but you truly did miss Sunghoon.

Maybe that’s why you began to act out, screaming at him when he spilt milk down your top (you’d pushed him), calling him every name under the sun and ultimately teasing him relentlessly.

Jake pretended to be oblivious, ignoring your shouting as he focused on the video game in front of him.

He wanted to enjoy his summer, not deal with your new excessive stress reliever.

When he heard Sunghoon start screaming back at you, he got up with a loud groan.

He grabbed your arm, dragging you away from the kitchen.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he glared.

“He spilt milk onto-”

Jake was seething.

“Shut it.” he threatened. “Stop messing with Hoon and go clean up your mess. Dinner will be ready in 40.”

You grumbled under your breath as you stormed up the stairs.

Your parents were on yet another trip, claiming that they needed another break.

They had terrible timing as the day after they left, the shower in your en-suite broke.

You stomped your way over to the main bathroom on Jake’s floor, still jealous at the fact that they built the whole third floor for him and him only and that he had the shower with the best pressure.

Sulking, you peeled your clothes off and hopped into the shower, letting the hot water pierce your skin. Annoyed thoughts slowly trickled out as you scrubbed the milky scent away.

Not keeping track of time, you grabbed a fresh towel off Jake’s stack and wrapped your body.

As you opened the door, Sunghoon seemed to be reaching for the handle, about to open it.

“Sorry.” he grumbled. “I didn’t know you were in there.”

He waited expectantly for you to move out of the doorway but instead watched as you followed his every attempt to walk past you.

“I need to fucking pee, can you get out the way.” he groaned.

“Oh come onnnn, Sunghoon.” you shook your head. “Can’t I have a little fun?”

You dropped your towel at the last word, feigning shock at your actions.

Sunghoon immediately covered his eyes taking steps back.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!” he screamed blushing heavily.

“It was an accident!” you screamed back wrapping your body.

“Yn!” Jake shouts from downstairs.

You ran down the stairs, narrowly missing Jake as you launched yourself into your room and locked the door.

With a laugh you got dressed, calling your best friend as you dried your hair at the messy vanity in your room.

“So.. you’re telling me that you purposely let go of your towel to get a reaction out of him.” Sunoo laughed.

You hummed confidently.

“You’re such a freak, yn.”

“You say that like you don’t already know.” you joked.

“No trust me, I know.” he rolled his eyes.

Yes, you had slept with your best friend a few times, but he had a dick and you wanted experience, so who better to trust than him?

“Well I gotta go, Jakey said dinner would be ready agessss ago.” you laughed. “Bye Noo, love you.”

“Love you more.” he blew you a kiss before ending the call.

You calmly made your way to the dinning room and sat in the seat that Jake had set up for you.

“Ramen, again?” you groaned. “How did it take you so long to make this…?”

Jake shot a deadly glare your way.

“If you want to complain about my specialty why don’t you make dinner tomorrow.”

“Gladly.” you accepted.

Sunghoon was silent the whole time you all ate.

Jake waffled on to him but he kept his head down, feeling the pressure of your stare.

You raised a leg onto his, testing the waters before you raised your foot slowly, letting it make its way further up.

“I can’t do this!” he shouted grasping his head.

“Huh?” Jake was confused, scrambling after Sunghoon as he put his shoes on, your own legs following after him.

“Hoon! You said you were staying over!” he complained.

“Yeah, Hoon!” you mockingly whined.

Sunghoon shoved past you.

“I’ll be back tomorrow.”

He snatched his car keys from the living room table and slammed the door behind himself.

“Wonder why he’s in a fucking mood.” Jake grumbled.

“Let’s just go eat..” you pushed him back to the table, hearing Sunghoon speed away.

~

Sunghoon kept his promise, returning the next day bright and early but camped out in Jake’s room the whole day.

Ear on the door, you heard him say “So, is Yn gonna stay away…”

“You know,” Jake trailed off. “Heeseung was over the other day and she didn’t act like that so I just think she hates you.”

“There’s a big difference between hate and lust.” Sunghoon shook his head.

“Ew! That’s my sister.” Jake gagged. “I truly don’t think she wants to fuck you.”

You sighed at how wrong he was, mentally giving him points for the protective act.

“Right.” Sunghoon rolled his eyes. “Not like i’d want to hit anyways.”

“Doesn’t matter. She’s still off limits, don’t try it.” Jake firmly said.

You heard them both shift around and out of the fear of getting caught you knocked on the door.

Sunghoon opened it, glaring down at you.

“What do you want?”

Your palms pushed his chest away from your intended path. Taking note of the fact that he was a lot more muscular than the previous summer.

“I’m not here for you,” you grumbled.

Jake tilted his head as if to ask you what Sunghoon had already said.

“I’m going shopping, gonna take your car because I’m outta fuel.”

“You can’t just take my car, let’s take yours and fill it up.”

“Let’s..?” Sunghoon grumbled.

“I have no money.” you lied.

“How’d you already finish your allowance?” Jake shook his head. “What was the plan when paying for the shopping?”

“Dad’s card.”

Jake hesitated before agreeing. “We’re all going, in my car.”

“I’m driving!” you ran out of the room, Jake following behind you as you raced to get the keys.

Sunghoon was in agony, sulking in the back seat as you and Jake argued over what songs should be played next in the cue.

“Siri, play Stay by Rihanna please.” Jake grinned in satisfaction as the song blasted through his car.

“Fuck you, I want Sticky! Siri play Sticky by Tyler the Creator.” you grumbled as his assistant didn’t listen to your voice and instead chose to snatch his phone and type it in.

The anger in his gut was slowly building up.

“Fuck! Yn keep your eyes on the fucking road, it’s a green light!” He shouted.

Both you and Jake jumped in fear.

Fingers shifting gears and feet pushing down on the pedals, you whipped into shape at the awareness of your surroundings.

“Jeez, Hoon.” Jake checked his ears for blood.

The rest of the ride was absolute silent, bar the music playing, you and Jake didn’t dare to speak up.

Sunghoon jumped out at the first opportunity, storming away with the shopping list leaving the two of you to trail after him like kicked puppies.

“I’ll go get the steak, it’s best from the butchers market down the road.” Jake pulled you in before he left. “Don’t do anything i wouldn’t..”

You nodded, giving him the sweetest smile.

He shook his head, pulling you in for a hug. You felt his lips place a peck on the top of your head.

“No funny business.” he threatened Sunghoon who grumbled in response.

“Sooo…” you dragged on. “Now that Jake’s gone- Hey! Don’t walk away while I’m speaking to you!”

The rest of the shopping trip was quite annoying.

All of your attempts to have Sunghoon squirming failed, he was blatantly ignoring your presence.

“Uh.. what’s Foie Gras?”

You giggled at his butchered attempt of pronouncing the item.

“Fattened duck liver.”

He physically recoiled. “Why would anyone wanna eat that.. ew.”

“It’s good, you’ll like it.” you persisted, leading him towards the correct aisle. “Sunoo??”

Your best friend stopped looking for salmon and embraced your hug.

His hands gripped your waist as you snuggled into his neck.

“Here with your new boy toy?” he laughed, pulling away from the heat of your body.

“I’m Sunghoon, nice to meet you.” the older boy leaned over you, holding a hand out for Sunoo to shake.

Sunoo gripped it firmly, greeting him with a smug grin.

“I’ve heard about you.”

“Good things I hope..”

“Well…” Sunoo laughed.

You pulled their hands apart, choosing to get all up in Sunoo’s personal space.

“Noo, are you coming to Heeseung’s party?” you poked his toned chest.

“Of course,” he grabbed your finger, the end of his sentence coming out as a whisper. “Kazhua told me that Yujin’s gonna be there as his plus one.”

It had been 3 weeks since you stopped talking to your friend Yujin after finding out that she’d slept with Sunghoon despite knowing that you had dibs on him.

Your expression immediately turned sour, very close to acting on the urge to drop kick Sunghoon then and there.

He’d always claimed that you were too young for him, despite there only being a years difference between the two of you, but then went behind your back and slept with a friend of the same age.

“You should see the look on his face right now.” Sunoo leant in closer, “He’s seething watching me get close to you. What a freak.”

Mood dissipating as an idea popped into your head, you took Sunoo’s hands and placed them on your ass. Letting him shamelessly grope you in public.

“Don’t be mean, I like that he’s kinda desperate sometimes.” you laughed.

Sunghoon fought to rip his vision away from you and your friend, slowly gaining the courage to grab the Foie Gras before storming over to you and yanking you away from Sunoo.

“Hey! I didn’t even say bye.” you turned your body to wave at your friend in response to the wink he sent you.

You watched in bewilderment as Sunghoon slammed the basket items onto the conveyor belt, scaring the cashier.

He whipped his wallet out of his pocket and took a card out to pay.

“You don’t have to do that..” you looked away in embarrassment.

You knew that Sunghoon wasn’t as well off as people like you and Jake. Taking up a summer job just to keep up with the lifestyle.

“Well Jake took your dad’s card, so unless you want to return all this, i’ll pay.” he pressed his lips together tightly.

The lack of refusal on your part led him to tap his card onto the scanner.

Watching him wince at the high transaction go through had you clenching your thighs together. You couldn’t tell if the hormones rose from Sunoo or Sunghoon but you didn’t really care.

He bagged the shopping and walked off to the car, not even bothering to look back at you.

Once the bags were in the boot you stood outside waiting for Jake.

“Jake wouldn’t have liked that.”

“Jake or you?” you rolled your eyes. “Sunoo’s my best friend.”

“So you just let your best friends fondle your ass in public?” he scoffed in disbelief. “Hee was right, you really are a slut.”

“Excuse me!”

You both turned to see an elderly lady coming over.

“Please could you help me load my shopping into the taxi?” she pleaded.

“Of course!” you beamed pushing down your anger with a gentle laugh.

Your parents had raised you right in some ways.

Sunghoon followed after you, keeping himself surprisingly close to your moving figure.

You both helped the lady transfer her bags from the trolley to the car, nodding with respect at her praise.

“What a cute couple, thank you for helping me.” she beamed, waving as she got into the passenger seat.

One look at Sunghoon’s face and you could tell he was torn between annoyance and embarrassment.

“Where the fuck is Jake?”

As if on cue Jake showed up.

You wiped your thumb at the lip stain on his cheek.

“You’re so nasty.”

He held a finger up to his lips before wrapping one arm around Sunghoon and the other around you.

“Sooo what did I miss?”

~

“PartyNextDoor? Really?” Sunghoon muttered walking into the dimly lit kitchen. It was clear that you were trying to set the mood.

Jake had sent him to help you out of fear that you’d burn something while he stepped out to meet some girl.

“He makes good music.” you shrugged seemingly unaffected by the lewd lyrics. “Aren’t you here to help?”

He nodded.

“Load the pasta into the oven dish, please.” you instructed. “Then put cheese on top.”

Sunghoon picked up the cheese block.

“Where’s the cheese grater?”

You told him that you’d get it, purposely bending over in your miniskirt so that he’d get an eyeful of the way your panties clung to your puffy folds.

“Oh… got it.”

Turning around you saw that Sunghoon was clearly distressed, pinching the top of his nose bridge.

You passed the grater over, internally laughing at the way his body jolted when your hand brushed against his.

“Aww Hoonie..” you pouted. “Do you want my help?”

Not even waiting for a response, you squeezed his crotch.

A low groan left his throat watching you drop to your knees with his trousers and boxers.

You impatiently began to suck him off, revelling in the fact that his cock was just as pretty as him.

Sunghoon’s head fell back, knuckles paling at the pressure of him gripping the counter.

“That feels so good.” he praised.

Sunghoon was big, too big even.

You swirled your fist at the parts you couldn’t reach and suckled on his tip, the praise doing something to you. Spurring you on to make him feel good.

“You shouldn’t be doing this.” he moaned.

“But you like it.” you sat back onto your knees.

Something about the look in your eyes had him whimpering.

“I knew the old you was in there somewhere!” your smile widened as you took him into your mouth again.

“Why are you still on that?” he seethed.

His long fingers scratched at your scalp, guiding your head off and on him. The vibrations of your gags had his knees buckling.

Sunghoon experimentally pushed your head fully onto his length. Your nose begged for air, buried in his abdomen and your throat constricted, feeling his dick push past your uvula.

“Come on, yn.” he coaxed. “Take it all.”

Tears streamed down your face, drool seeping out of the corners of your mouth.

“I’m so close, keep your throat open.” he groaned.

“Yn!” Jake shouted from the front door.

You slid off Sunghoon with a cough, scrambling to grab a tissue, wiping your tears and drool away as he pulled up his pants before running to the downstairs bathroom.

“Is dinner ready?” Jake asked poking his head into the kitchen.

“Just need to put it in the oven.” you croaked out.

“Cool, gonna play a game! Send Hoon my way when he comes back..”

Dinner was just like the day before except this time you and Sunghoon both couldn’t make eye contact yet Jake still waffled on.

The air felt thick even for you, trying your hardest to give Jake enthusiastic answers so he wouldn’t suspect anything.

You jumped up and down in happiness when he told you that he would clean the dishes so you could relax, dashing up to your room to get rid of your own problem.

The next few hours passed by rapidly as you tried time and time again to get yourself off, still throbbing from having Sunghoon in your mouth, but nothing was working.

“Ugh!” a quiet groan left your throat.

Your hands reached for the phone on your bedside table immediately clicking on Sunoo’s contact.

You: fuck i’m so horny

You: tried getting off but it won’t work

Sunoo: u want me to come over ??

You contemplated taking up his offer.

You: that’d take too long

Sunoo: is park over ??

You: yh.. i uh kinda sucked him off earlier

Sunoo: yeah I am NOT contracting an std

You: fuck you 😭😭😭

Sunoo: js send him a nude?? or smth 🫡

You: UGH ILY THANKS

You slipped on a thin nightgown, purposely pushing your chest upwards letting your hardened nipples peek through, taking a picture then taking another of your dripping pussy.

Fingers swiftly moving onto his contact, you pressed on the chat.

[1,000 from yn💋]

Sunghoon: so you had money the whole time..

Yn: [2 pictures attached] can you help me…?

seen

Sunghoon wasted no time in stumbling over to your room. Sending explicit pictures to him while he was staying in your brothers room was very insane.

He didn’t even knock on the door, storming in them locking it quietly after he got in.

“You can’t keep doing this.” he shook his head.

You gave him the best innocent look you could muster.

“Do what? What did I do, Hoonie?”

He ran a hand down his face, immediately losing all composure.

“Stand up.” he demanded.

You complied immediately. Yes, Sunghoon had shown his anger through badly timed outbursts but in that moment he seemed furious.

“You can’t keep trying to make me jealous.” he continued. “You don’t understand!”

“But-”

“You’re all I can think about anymore. I wake up and you’re there, I go to sleep and you’re in my dreams!” he whisper shouted, clearly being tormented by his own thoughts. “Sometimes I just can’t stand you but being away from you was absolute hell for me. Trust me, I am also trying to understand how this shit happened.”

“Hoon-”

“Please.” he begged. “Please just let me finish.”

He took a step forward, cradling your head in his hands.

“For years, I have been infatuated with you. Forced to watch from a distance so that I wouldn’t lose you and Jake.” he shook his head. “There really isn’t anything that I wouldn’t do for you. I..”

You placed your hands on top of his significantly larger ones.

“Hoon, what are you trying to say?” you pushed.

He closed his eyes in pain.

“Don’t make me say it.” he frowned. “If I say it, we can’t go back to how we were.”

“I think I love you.” you teared up.

His head whipped up. “What?”

“Sunghoon, I love you.” you repeated firmly.

You’d always wanted Sunghoon since the day you laid eyes on him, but his words put a new perspective into your head. Is this why you were jealous of anyone that got close to him? Is it why you very harshly cut off Yujin? Is it why you felt butterflies every time he was around?

You had let your lust cloud your original feelings for Sunghoon, letting him believe that you only wanted him for sex because you knew that you could never have him romantically.

Sunghoon truly was out of your league. He was genuinely kind and a respcted person. He was everything that you couldn’t be. But none of that mattered when he pressed his lips against yours.

Pent up emotions of the past 10 years released as you kissed back just as passionately. Kissing Sunghoon with as much angst and love as he gave.

You never ever opened your eyes while kissing someone else, but you peeked an eye open to see what he looked like up close.

The perfect mole on his nose, his thick furrowed brows and perfect hair.

He kept his eyes closed for a few moments after you pulled away, taking in the feeling.

“Hoonie.” you called out. “I want you.”

Sunghoon complied, throwing you onto your bed and getting comfortable between your legs.

You attached your lips onto his as he rutted his hips against your warm heat.

From when you sucked him off earlier you already knew he was big, but feeling his so close had you gasping.

“Shhh.” he whispered. “Keep it quiet baby, we can’t let Jake hear.”

Shit. Jake. You hoped that he just wouldn’t wake up or else you’d both be out the house till your parents came back.

Your head bobbled in response.

“Sunghoon,” you moaned. “I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

Hearing you moan his name had his pushing a particularly harsh thrust into you.

“Fuck. Where do you keep the condoms?”

He got off you briefly, taking the time to strip himself as you bent to reach into your desk drawer.

You jolted forwards as his palm made contact with your ass, impatiently begging you to hurry up.

Letting him roll the plastic on while you stripped down had you feeling a little scared. Being naked under his watchful eye was nothing like sending him a nude because you had to witness his reaction firsthand.

“You’re so beautiful.” he repeated, kissing up and down your body.

“Sunghoon please.” you whined.

Pushing your legs into your body, he lined himself up.

“Tell me if it hurts and I’ll stop, okay.” he nodded.

You wrapped a leg around his waist, pushing him into you, drooling at the delicious stretch he gave you.

“Fuck, I can’t.” he groaned into your neck, lapping at your skin, flicking his tongue onto the bruises he formed. “Your legs are shaking so much.”

He wasn’t wrong, this was the fastest you’d ever come close to orgasming instantly and he hadn’t even moved yet.

Two thrusts in and you were clamping down on his dick, mouth covered to muffle the string of moans leaving your throat.

“Oh my, I’m cumming. Fuck.” Sunghoon twitched as he groaned lowly in your ear. “Pussy so good, tight, fuck! I’ve never come this fast.”

You didn’t know if he was talking out of his ass but the fact that he wasn’t ashamed did things to you.

Once you’d both recovered, you realised he was still fully hard and that turned you on even more.

“I want more.” you begged. “Please give me more.”

“Fuck. You’re so hot.” he groped at your chest. “Where do you want me?”

You guided him to lie down near your pillows, discarding the condom before hovering your dripping core over his length.

“I want you raw.” you whined. “I’m on the pill, please.”

Sunghoon closed his eyes again.

“Please.” he begged. “Shit. Never thought i’d hear you say that.”

Your legs burned as you sat down feeling the burn ten times more in the new position.

“You’re so big, so big Hoonie.” you babbled.

He could see that you were struggling to bounce yourself so he sat up and guided your hips in time with his thrusts.

“Do you feel me here, baby?” he pressed the spot where his tip poked into your your lower abdomen, both moaning at the feeling.

“Fuck, Sunghoon, I can’t.” you cried.

This time around it felt so much more intense, the intimacy was off the charts as he forced you to look into his eyes. Tears were fully streaming down your face at the overwhelming pleasure.

“Don’t you wanna make me proud?” he frowned. “Doesn’t my little slut want me to fill her up? Give her my baby?”

His words had you moaning louder and louder causing him to kiss away the noise.

He smacked your ass harshly.

“Quiet pretty, you don’t want Jake to hear? Do you?” he growled.

You shook your head, falling into his embrace.

The squelch of your juices and the repeated slam of the bed against the wall made you realise that Jake probably already knew what was going on.

Your teeth dug into Sunghoon’s shoulder determined to keep quiet.

“I’m so close..” you sobbed. “Please can I cum?”

He lifted your head, forcing you to look at him.

“Of course, baby.” he groaned. “Let go for me.”

Your eyes rolled back, body going limp as the orgasm ran through you.

Sunghoon came after a few thrusts, filling you up to the brim.

He rubbed your back, waiting for you to come back to him.

But you just couldn’t stop crying, tears rolling down his collarbone.

“Yn?” he inspected your face. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry.” you sobbed, palms digging into your eyes. “Sorry that I was so mean to you just because I couldn’t control my feelings.”

He clicked his tongue, fingers tracing up and down your arms to soothe you.

“It’s not like I was an angel either.” he sighed. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like you couldn’t come to me.”

His lips pressed a soft kiss to your temple, bringing you into his embrace.

“I love you, Yn.” he whispered. “I think I always have.”

You gripped onto him a little tighter at his words, checking to see if the moment was real.

“Can you stay here?” you looked up at him with glassy eyes. “Please. I know that Jake-”

“Yeah, of course.” he relaxed. “I’m not gonna leave you.”

~

Over the next few days, you and Sunghoon had fucked like rabbits. Nowhere was safe, not your dad’s office, the living room, dining room, Jake’s bathroom, the outdoor AND indoor pool, even Sunghoon’s own room had been attacked.

You’d almost been caught by Jake on a few occasions but he still seemed to be oblivious. He didn’t even notice when Sunghoon fingered you under the table at a very public restaurant.

Maybe he was pretending, you just didn’t care. Sunghoon was way too good to give up, even for your beloved brother.

Now it was the night of Heeseung’s birthday party.

You hadn’t seen Sunghoon since he left your room that morning to go shopping with Jake and you were experiencing withdrawals.

The two of you had spoken about boundaries, with the impending doom of your parents coming back the next day but for now you wanted to have him as much as you could.

“So, you’re telling me that while I was on the phone with you, he was quite literally eating your out?” Kazhua grimaced. “You two are perfect for each other.”

You laughed swatting at her arm in fake offence.

“Uh oh….” Sunoo pursed his lips.

The three of you looked in the direction he was facing, watching as Yujin felt up and down Sunghoon’s buff arms, Jake and Heeseung looking away awkwardly.

“Yn! Wait!” Kazhua called after you but you were already storming over.

You pushed Yujin out of the way causing her to stumble and placed yourself in front of Sunghoon.

“Woah, Yn..” Jake laughed.

“Can we talk?” you asked Sunghoon.

“Well.. I’m with my friends right now..”

You forcefully grabbed his arm, dragging him outside not stopping till you got to his car.

The cold summer breeze nipped your shoulders, sending shivers down your spine.

“What the fuck is your problem?” you seethed. “Letting her touch all up on you when you know how I feel!”

Sunghoon just leant forward and kissed you.

You pushed him away, flustered.

“Hey!” you whisper shouted. “What if Jake just came outside right now?!”

“Shhh..” he laughed. “Come here then.”

He pulled his keys out of his pocket, and got into the drivers seat, patting his lap.

If you had checked your surroundings before you hesitantly got in then you would’ve noticed Riki, your brothers minion, dashing off to find Jake.

Sunghoon pushed your hips down onto his so you could feel him.

“This is how you make me feel.” he moaned, brushing your hair out of your face.

“Fuck.” you moaned. “I’m still mad at you though.”

“Take it out on me, pretty.”

Your lips attacked his neck, leaving as many marks as possible, you wanted everyone to see that Sunghoon was clearly taken.

He pulled his dick out of his pants, rubbing it along the slick of your panties.

You smacked his hand away, pulled your panties to the side and suck down onto him by guiding yourself.

Tears threatened to spill, body already covered in a thin layer of sweat.

Sunghoon wrapped his arms around your waist, thrusting up into you rapidly.

The whole car shook while the windows fogged up.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Hoonie, faster please!” you moaned.

“You think you can run your mouth whenever you feel like it, huh pretty?” he seemed to go even faster.

“I’m sorry!” you cried, nails digging into his biceps for stability.

“Oh you’re sorry? Prove it.” he growled. “Scream my name.”

“Hoon.” you whimpered. “That’s too risky.”

“Hm.. that’s not what I asked.” he rubbed circles on your clit, going even deeper than before. “I know that you can be louder than that.”

Having him hit the spot time and time again was sending you over the edge, you lost all composure the second he started sucking on your sweet spot.

“Sunghoon, fuck. Ah, right there! Fuck Daddy, please go faster!” you screamed out.

“Daddy, huh?” he groaned. “Gonna make you feel so good princess.”

You cried out as he continued to thrust into you at a faster pace, skin slapping erotically.

“I’m gonna-”

He told you it was okay to let go.

“Fuck, look how much you came for me.” he moaned in admiration, feeling true bliss as your essence leaked down to his balls. “So good for me, baby.”

Static filled your ears as he came inside you, waves of fire burining through your limbs.

Sunghoon’s head hit the headrest and you slumped onto his body.

His fingers scratched at your scalp soothing you.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” he asked softly.

You nodded, too tired to respond.

“I need you to use your words, princess..”

Your lips pressed light kisses on his neck.

“I’d love to.” you sighed contentedly. “Can we stay like this for a bit?”

You felt him nod, head falling on top of yours.

Sleep almost overtook you but a knock on the window woke you right up.

“Sunghoooon.” Jake sang.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he whispered.

You immediately shot up, looking for something to cover your face.

“One second.” Sunghoon shouted back.

He gave you his jacket so that Jake wouldn’t notice your outfit as you slipped on a cap from the car and faced the other way.

“Can we talk through the window?” Sunghoon asked nervously.

“No…” Jake groaned. “Open it.”

Sunghoon reluctantly pushed the button, internally cursing when Jake claimed he’d been hit by a whiff of sex.

“What’s up, Jake. I’m kinda busy.”

“Yeah.. I can see.” he gestured towards you, believing that you were just some random Sunghoon decided to fuck. “Have you seen my sister?”

He felt you tense beneath him.

“Um.. no.” Sunghoon shrugged. “I haven’t seen your sister.”

Riki walked out from behind Jake.

“He’s lying!” Riki shook his head. “That’s your sister, right there!”

Jake looked at him in disbelief, finally noticing that the girls hair looked a lot like yours.

Sunghoon tried to swat his hand away when he reached in to take your hat but failed miserably.

“Oh my…” Jake stumbled back.

Your head slowly turned to face him, a sheepish smile on your face.

“Hey, Jakey.”

“Oh my.”

He tried to grab you and pull you out of the car but the loudest whine left your mouth.

“You’re balls deep in my SISTER?!” Jake was furious. “My sister? My little sister!”

The two of you flinched.

“Fucking hell, Sunghoon! You could’ve had anyone else! She’s off limits!” Jake frowned. “Forbidden even!”

“Jake you don’t need to-” you started.

“You shut it.” he shook his head. “Both of you get decent and get out.”

Sunghoon rolled the window up so you could have privacy as you lifted your body off his, cum spilling out while he cleaned you up.

“Riks you can go now.” Jake dismissed the boy who had a smirk on his face.

You and Sunghoon stood infront of Jake, silently taking the verbal beating.

“We’re going home now.”

“I’ll drop her off.” Sunghoon stood his ground.

You pleaded with your eyes to get Jake to agree.

“Fine.”

You couldn’t help but laugh on the drive home.

“That was seriously bad timing.” you sighed, spotting Jake outside the door of your house, waiting for you.

Sunghoon got out first, opening the door for you.

You pulled him in and kissed him goodbye, ignoring Jake’s gags in the background.

“Come over for dinner tomorrow.” you pleaded. “Mother wants you there. So do I.”

“Okay.. I’ll be there.” he smiled. “If Jake tries to hit me though, I am swinging back.”

Jake cleared his throat loudly.

You said your goodbyes to Sunghoon as he watched Jake wrap an arm around you and guide you into the house but not leaving before throwing a middle finger up at him.

“So unnecessary.” Sunghoon sighed.

~

Sunghoon and Jake didn’t even try to hide the fact that they were arguing.

When your dad had told them to set the table together they argued in hushed whispers, fighting over forks.

Even your eldest brother, Noah could tell that something was up, he’d come home and intended to stay for a week after not being around for a whole year.

“Sunghoon?” you mother asked plating up caviar. “Has your mother said yes to the trip?”

Sunghoon nodded in response.

Right the trip. Your parents announced that they were taking you all to Greece, Noah was just there for the free holiday.

“You’re a leech, get a job.” you poked at him.

“Med school is kicking my butt, and who’s gonna pass up a free holiday?” he shoved you back.

“Yn.. you don’t have a job yourself either..” your father teased.

“She doesn’t need a job, I’ve got her.” Sunghoon caressed your shoulder.

Jake began to hysterically gag.

“Stop being so dramatic.” you sneered, body relaxing as Sunghoon rested his palm on your knee.

Everything was going well, Jake and Sunghoon didn’t interact and your parents didn’t pick up on a thing.

Sunghoon tried Foie Gras, he didn’t like it and begged you to let him go to a fast food restaurant but other than that he was enjoying himself.

That was until Jake dropped his fork under the table and noticed how shamelessly close the two of you were under the table.

“Oh my I’m gonna throw up.” he cried out.

“What now, Jake?” Noah sighed.

Jake leaned over the table to whisper at you and Sunghoon.

“Footsies under the table is fucking disgusting.” he sneered.

“What are you talking about?” Sunghoon frowned.

“UGH!” Jake shouted.

“Jaeyun Sim.” you mother scolded. “Sit down.”

“Mumma, no!” he whined. “Those two were fucking behind my back!”

Your dad choked on his wine as you dropped his fork.

“I mean we all thought it was gonna happen soon..” Noah trailed off.

“What?” Sunghoon raised his eyebrows. “What do you mean by all?”

Your mother ran round to the other side of the table, pulling you and Sunghoon into a hug.

“Aww my baby is growing up!” she wailed. “Who better to bring into the family than Sunghoon!”

Your dad shook Sunghoon’s hand.

“Careful with that one.” he joked. “She’s a handful.”

“You’re supposed to be on MY side!” Jake glared. “I found out that my best friend is sleeping with-”

“Dating.” your boyfriend corrected.

“Ew!” Jake shivered. “My little sister, my baby sister who I tried SO hard to protect from the men of this world.”

“Even I don’t care this much, Jake?” Noah snickered.

Jake stormed off to his room and slammed the door.

Despite having ups and downs with your brother you truly did love him. Seeing how much he hated the situation made you feel sorry for your actions.

“He’ll come around.” your dad assured.

You waited until the table was cleared to go bring Jake the rest of his food.

“Can I come in?” you asked softly.

He grumbled.

His figure lay on his bed, playing catch with a ball.

“What do you want?” he mumbled.

You placed the food on his desk and sat next to him, ignoring how he aimed the ball at your head.

“Jakey.” you started. “Why are you so against me being with Sunghoon?”

He rolled his eyes.

“I knew him first.”

“Yeah but..” you had to take a deep breath to stop yourself from crying. “I just don’t want you to be mad at me.”

“I‘m not mad.”

“Right.” you pursed your lips together. “I just wanted you to know that I really do love Sunghoon and that he loves me and I just want us all to be happy..”

A tear slipped out of your eye.

He sighed.

“Yeah, I get that. It’s just..” he wiped the tears that ran down. “He’s my best friend and you’re my little sister, if anyone hurts you i’d naturally have to go after them.. I just can’t bring myself to do that to Sunghoon. I love you both too much..”

Now you were both crying.

“Why didn’t you just say that?” you laughed through your tears.

“I thought that if I delayed the conversation it wouldn’t have to happen.” he smiled sadly. “But i’m not mad, I really am happy for you.. change just isn’t my strong suit.”

“He isn’t lying.” Sunghoon laughed from the doorway. “He’s couldn’t sleep for two months when we first got to uni. Claimed it was nerves but I think he just missed you too much.”

You pulled Jake into a hug, both sobbing gently.

Jake grabbed Sunghoon, pulling him in.

“You’re both so emotional.” he whispered, letting you both cry on his shoulders.

“Yeah well, you have to deal with this forever because you’re not leaving now.” you cried.

“I wouldn’t even dare.” he smiled.

THE END.

[perdidosbucky-yyo]

OHMYGOOOOOOD

Thank God this wasn't as sad as the others 😭 I needed a break from crying.

"Maybe it’s fate," she joked, but her tone had a hint of seriousness.

The way I almost screamed bc IT IS FATE 🥺🩷

Logan followed without complaint, falling into step beside you as you made your way to the car. The streets were quieter than usual, but the tension between rival families was palpable—something was brewing, and everyone knew it.

Istg when I read this I was so sure y/n would end up with a bullet between her eyes, that's how scared I am😂

You laughed, standing up and dusting your hands off. “Sorry to disappoint. I’ve got a weakness for strays.”

Logan being the ultimate stray😅🤭 she's always drawn to him

Mr. Russo gave Logan a once-over, then grinned, his false teeth gleaming. “You any good at cards, tough guy?”

This was so precious to me!! Logan playing cards with y/n and her friends ❤️

“Yeah?” You took a step closer, crossing your arms with a playful grin. “And here I thought I’d be driving you crazy.”

“You do,” he murmured, almost too quietly. His lips turned up slightly, but he looked away, that unspoken wall going back up.

This has so many meanings, not only flirting but I can imagine after over 100 years loving and losing the same person over and over, that would definitely drive him crazy

You glanced down the hall and shrugged. “Guess I can live with that. For now.”

Logan’s lips twitched, just barely. “For now,” he echoed, and there was something heavier in those words, something he wasn’t sharing.

MY HEART ACHED💔💔💔💔

The kiss was desperate, wild, like he was making up for lost time. His lips claimed yours with a roughness that sent a shiver down your spine, his hands moving to cradle your face, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t stand the distance. You gasped against his mouth, your fingers finding their way into his hair, tugging him down harder.

Logan groaned into your mouth, a deep, almost pained sound, and the desperation in it made your blood race. He kissed you like he was starving, like he needed this, needed you, and you felt your body melt into him.

Omfg I've never seen them so passionate it's making me feel things 😮‍💨 the smut was perfect balance of passion and desperation

And this time, he was determined to make it last as long as he could. Maybe, just maybe, even put that ring to use.

Screaming crying throwing up 😭🥺🥺🥺 bc I desperately need to see when he proposes but I can't even imagine how it would go

You felt a surge of affection for him then, this man who’d somehow become both your protector and your closest confidant. He was rough around the edges, guarded and distant with everyone else—but with you, he was different. You brought out a softness in him, a warmth that felt as though it had been buried for a long, long time.

This might be one of the best dialogues I've read, bc it's so true 🥺 for decades this man has tried everything in his power to cherish and protect the love of his life, she's the only one that brings out a resemblance of peace on him😭💔

Logan’s gaze darkened. “It’s not. You know that. And anyone who tries to take it without your say? They got me to deal with.” His voice was low and dangerous, a promise just for you.

Forever obsessed with this story and the way he will do anything to help and adore y/n❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

i love you, in every time ࿐‧₊ 1973 - we meet again my dear...

chapter summary: After leaving Team X behind, Logan finds himself back in New York City working as a bodyguard for various people. Until he finds himself acting as a bodyguard for you, a mobster's daughter.

word count: 18.3k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: i'm a sucker for the bodyguard trope (and also just dofp logan in general, that man makes me go feral), so you know i had to do it when given the chance! i had so much fun writing this version of reader, especially because this is the closest to 'modern' times that we've gotten and i didn't have to do a ton of research about this year. the tags might give away a little bit of the plot, but i promise it's gonna be a fun ride ;)

warnings/tags: fluff, angst, 70s!logan, mafia/mob, implied age gap, flirting, smut, thigh riding, unprotected piv, creampie, arranged marriage

series masterlist - chapter 4 → chapter 6

He left Stryker, Victor, and Team X behind, settling in New York City as a bodyguard, hired by various people: politicians, the mafia, anyone.

Logan was now getting his fifth job, protecting a mobster’s young daughter.

He was used to jobs like this by now, but something about this one felt... different. As he walked through the large estate, the details blurred around him. His focus was on the job—until the moment he saw you.

You were standing by the window, the sunlight filtering through the curtains, casting a soft glow over your face. There was something familiar about the way you held yourself, the way your hair fell over your shoulders. For a second, it felt like the air was sucked out of the room.

Logan’s chest tightened.

It was you.

Same face. Same presence. Same pull that had haunted him for over a century.

But you were different, too. This time, you weren’t a schoolteacher, a nurse, or a coal miner’s wife. You were his new job.

You turned, eyes meeting his, and for a brief moment, it felt like you recognized him too. That sense of familiarity flickered across your face before you smiled—polite, but distant.

“Y/N, this is Logan,” the mobster—your father—introduced. “He’ll be your new bodyguard.”

Your father’s voice faded into the background as Logan’s gaze remained locked on you. You gave a small nod, extending your hand. “Nice to meet you, Logan.”

Logan stared at your hand for a beat too long before taking it. That brief contact sent a shock through him, an old memory he couldn’t quite shake.

“Likewise,” he muttered, his voice rougher than he intended.

Your father clapped Logan on the back. “I expect you’ll keep her safe. There’s been some... tension with a rival family.”

Logan only nodded, but his attention stayed on you. You were right in front of him, alive. But you didn’t know him. Like always.

After your father left the room, you leaned against the window frame, crossing your arms. “So, how long have you been doing this?” you asked, your tone casual.

Logan leaned against the wall, watching you closely. “Long enough.”

You raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. “That’s vague.”

He didn’t respond, and for a moment, silence settled between you two. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but there was something unsaid hanging in the air.

“What about you?” Logan asked, more to fill the space than out of curiosity. “How do you feel about having a bodyguard?”

You shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”

That earned a faint, almost imperceptible smile from Logan, but he quickly covered it with a grunt. “Glad to hear it.”

A pause. Then you looked at him, your eyes narrowing slightly, like you were trying to figure him out. “You seem... familiar.”

Logan stiffened. “Don’t think we’ve met before.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “No, but... I don’t know. Something about you.”

Logan’s heart pounded in his chest, but he kept his expression neutral. He couldn’t tell you. Not about the past lives, not about how many times he had watched you die.

You shrugged it off, smiling again. “Maybe I’m just imagining things.”

“Maybe,” Logan muttered, not meeting your eyes this time.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of introductions, schedules, and instructions from your father. Logan followed at a distance, keeping an eye on you, but his mind was elsewhere.

That night, Logan sat on the balcony just outside your room, staring out at the city lights. His thoughts raced, the weight of the engagement ring in his pocket feeling heavier than usual.

You were alive. Again.

But for how long this time?

---

You plopped onto your bed, the wire from your rotary phone stretching with you, “he is good looking though.”

You could practically hear Jennifer’s grin through the phone, “oh, yeah? Man, all your bodyguards are good looking. It’s not fair!”

You laughed, twirling the phone cord between your fingers. "He’s… different though. I can’t quite put my finger on it. He’s quiet, but not in the usual 'I’m-paid-to-watch-you' way."

"Is he mysterious?" Jennifer teased, her voice light. "Maybe he’s got some dark, brooding backstory. Mob families always hire guys like that—‘strong and silent.’"

You snorted. "Maybe. But he’s not like the others." You hesitated, leaning back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling. “There’s something familiar about him… like I’ve met him before.”

Jennifer paused on the other end of the line, then her voice softened. "You think he’s one of your dad’s guys from back in the day?"

You shook your head, even though she couldn’t see it. "No, it’s not that. It’s… weird, Jen. Like I know him, but I don’t. It’s been bugging me since I met him."

"Maybe it’s fate," she joked, but her tone had a hint of seriousness. "You’ve been going through bodyguards like they’re tissues. Maybe this one’s here to stick around."

You rolled your eyes but smiled. "Fate? You’ve been reading too many romance novels."

"Hey, a girl can dream!" Jennifer laughed. "But seriously, if you feel something, maybe it’s worth looking into. He’s hot, right?"

You smiled at that, though your thoughts wandered back to Logan. The way his eyes lingered on you, like he was seeing something no one else could. "Yeah," you admitted softly. "He’s definitely that. He’s probably as old as my dad or somethin’. But man, Jen, if you saw him you’d lose your mind.”

You twirled the phone cord around your finger, still smiling to yourself, but your thoughts kept circling back to Logan. Something about the way he looked at you—like he knew more than he was saying—stuck with you. It wasn’t creepy or overprotective. It was... familiar. Comforting, even.

Jennifer’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. “Hey, don’t overthink it, okay? Enjoy the view for once. Not everyone gets a hot bodyguard with a mysterious vibe. Maybe he’s the silver lining to your dad’s whole ‘paranoia’ problem.”

You laughed quietly. “Yeah, maybe.”

You hung up not long after, still feeling the weight of that odd, lingering sense of déjà vu.

---

The next morning, Logan was waiting for you downstairs. Dressed in his usual dark clothes, he stood near the front door with his hands in his pockets, posture relaxed but alert. His eyes flicked toward you the second you entered the room.

There it was again—that heavy gaze that made it feel like he could see right through you.

“Mornin’,” you said, offering a small smile.

“Mornin’,” Logan replied, his voice gravelly.

Your father wasn’t home—out dealing with ‘business’—which gave you a rare moment to yourself. Well, mostly. You slipped on your leather jacket and glanced at Logan, your lips quirking up in a teasing grin. “What’s the plan, bodyguard? Gonna follow me around all day?”

Logan grunted, something close to amusement flashing in his eyes. “That’s the job.”

“You always this chatty?”

“Only when I meet interesting people.” His tone was dry, but there was the faintest flicker of a smile beneath it.

You snorted, heading for the door. “C’mon, hope you like running errands.”

Logan followed without complaint, falling into step beside you as you made your way to the car. The streets were quieter than usual, but the tension between rival families was palpable—something was brewing, and everyone knew it.

Still, Logan’s presence made you feel... safer. Like nothing bad could happen as long as he was there. It was strange. You barely knew him, but being around him felt easy. Natural. Like you’d known him for a lot longer than a day.

---

When you said you were going to run ‘errands,’ Logan hadn’t expected you to walk straight into an animal shelter. He followed you through the entrance, nodding politely at the woman at the front desk as you greeted her like an old friend.

“Morning, Lorraine!” you said with a bright smile.

Lorraine, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes, smiled back. “There’s my favorite troublemaker. The pups will be glad to see you.” She cast a curious glance at Logan. “And who’s this?”

“My latest babysitter,” you said with a smirk, glancing at Logan. “Logan, meet Lorraine. Lorraine, Logan.”

Logan gave a curt nod. “Ma’am.”

Lorraine chuckled. “A man of few words. I like him already.” She waved you both toward the back. “Go on, they’ve been waiting for you.”

As soon as you walked past the front desk and entered the back area, the sound of excited barking filled the air. Dogs of all sizes pressed their noses against the bars of their cages, tails wagging furiously at the sight of you.

You crouched down in front of one of the kennels, talking softly to a scruffy little mutt as it whined and pawed at the bars. “Hey, buddy. Miss me?”

Logan leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching the way you scratched behind the dog's ears. There was something easy about the way you moved here, something soft. For a mobster’s kid, you had a surprisingly gentle touch.

"Didn't expect this to be part of the job," Logan muttered after a moment, his voice low but teasing.

You glanced up, grinning. "What, thought I’d be shopping for fur coats or shaking people down for cash?"

Logan raised a brow. "Somethin’ like that."

You laughed, standing up and dusting your hands off. “Sorry to disappoint. I’ve got a weakness for strays.” You reached into your jacket pocket and pulled out a small bag of treats, tossing some into the kennels. "These guys have it rough enough without me skipping out on them."

Logan watched as the dogs practically fought over the treats, barking happily at your attention. You moved from cage to cage, giving each dog a little affection. It was... unexpected.

Logan watched you toss the last treat into one of the kennels, the scruffy mutt practically vibrating with happiness. He leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, an amused glint in his eyes as you turned and dusted your hands off with a grin.

"You’re full of surprises," Logan muttered.

You raised an eyebrow, smirking as you folded your arms. “Oh, yeah? Disappointed?”

"Not exactly." His lips twitched, like he was fighting a smile.

You took a step closer, tilting your head. "Well, what did you expect?"

Logan shrugged, keeping his expression neutral. "Spoiled. Entitled. Maybe a little dangerous."

You laughed, the sound light and easy, and Logan’s chest tightened in a way that felt too familiar. "Dangerous, huh? Guess I’ve got some layers." You gave him a playful once-over. "What about you? Big, scary bodyguard with a brooding vibe. Got any surprises I should know about?"

Logan snorted. "Not really."

You narrowed your eyes like you didn’t quite believe him, but instead of pressing, you motioned toward the door. "C’mon. I’ve got one more stop."

Logan fell into step beside you as you exited the shelter and made your way toward the car. You chatted casually, filling the silence with stories about your favorite dogs at the shelter. But Logan stayed mostly quiet, his mind racing. It wasn’t just your voice—it was you. The way you carried yourself, the way you teased him like it was second nature.

He stole a glance at you as you drove. God, it felt the same as always. Like gravity pulled him toward you whether he wanted it or not.

---

Logan should’ve expected the second time around that you weren’t taking him to a normal place for errands. He was even more surprised when you parked in a nursing home parking lot and got out with that same pep in your step.

The sliding doors opened as you walked up to the front counter, where a middle-aged woman with tired eyes peered over the top of a blocky computer monitor. Her name tag read Carol.

“Morning, Carol,” you chirped with an easy smile, tapping your fingers on the desk.

Carol looked up and brightened at the sight of you. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite visitor. Here to cheer up the old-timers again?”

“Always,” you said, flashing a grin. “And I brought backup today.” You gestured behind you to Logan, who gave a brief nod.

Carol gave him a once-over and arched an eyebrow. “Well now, you didn’t tell me you’d be bringing a tall drink of water.”

You smirked, glancing over your shoulder at Logan. “Yeah, figured I’d mix things up.”

Logan just grunted in response, but the corner of his mouth twitched slightly—half amusement, half something else. Carol winked at you before waving toward the hallway. “You know where to find them.”

You led Logan down the hall, your steps light and familiar as if you'd been coming here for years. He followed quietly, his sharp gaze flicking between doorways and hallways, always alert.

“You spend a lot of time here?” Logan asked as you slowed near a door marked Activity Room.

You shrugged. “Yeah. Most of these folks don’t get many visitors. It’s nice to stop by and remind them they’re not forgotten.”

Logan gave a small grunt of acknowledgment. It was such a simple thing—volunteering at a nursing home—but it hit him hard. It was just like you to find the overlooked parts of the world and give them your attention, like the dogs at the shelter, like the people here. You always had that streak of kindness, no matter which life you were living.

You nudged open the door, stepping into the room. A group of residents sat in mismatched chairs, some knitting, others half-watching a daytime soap on an old television. At the sight of you, faces lit up.

“There she is!” one of the older women called, setting her knitting aside with a delighted clap of her hands. “I thought you forgot about us!”

“As if I ever could,” you replied warmly, walking over to give her a light hug.

Logan lingered near the doorway, watching as you moved through the room like you belonged there, chatting with each resident, asking about their week, their families—if they remembered them. His heart twisted, both with admiration and an ache that wouldn’t quit.

You noticed him standing off to the side and shot him a teasing grin. “Don’t be shy, Logan. They won’t bite.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Not worried about them.”

You laughed, turning back to an older man with a deck of cards spread out in front of him. “Logan, meet Mr. Russo. He’s got a mean poker face.”

Mr. Russo gave Logan a once-over, then grinned, his false teeth gleaming. “You any good at cards, tough guy?”

Logan shrugged. “I can hold my own.”

You slid into the chair beside Mr. Russo, motioning for Logan to join you. “Care to test your luck?”

Logan hesitated for only a moment before pulling out a chair, the legs scraping against the linoleum. As he sat down, you dealt him a hand, your fingers brushing his in the process—a fleeting touch, but enough to send a jolt of familiarity through both of you.

You caught Logan’s gaze over the cards, a flicker of something unspoken passing between you. There it was again—that sense that you knew him somehow, though you couldn’t quite place it. It nagged at you, but you let it pass, offering him a playful smirk instead.

“Careful,” you warned. “I don’t go easy on anyone.”

Logan returned the smirk, something dangerous glinting in his eyes. “Neither do I.”

---

After the game, which you won—barely, you said your goodbyes to the residents, promising to visit again soon. Logan followed silently as you made your way back to the car, the soft clinking of your keys the only sound between you.

“Not what you expected for today, huh?” you asked as you slid into the driver’s seat.

Logan leaned against the car door, arms crossed. “Not exactly.”

You smiled, starting the engine. “Bet you thought being a mobster’s kid would be more... glamorous.”

“Something like that.” He gave you a sidelong glance. “You like keeping people guessing, don’t you?”

You grinned, shifting the car into drive. “It’s one of my many talents.”

The two of you drove in companionable silence, the hum of the city filling the space between you. Logan rested his elbow on the window frame, glancing at you every so often. You were like a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve—different from the others, yet still unmistakably you.

“Why do you do it?” he asked after a while. “The shelter, the nursing home. You don’t have to.”

You shrugged, your expression thoughtful. "Dunno. Just because I was born into this life doesn’t mean I like what my dad does. I guess sometimes I feel like I’m tryin’ to balance the scales."

Logan leaned back against the seat, his sharp gaze on you, but he didn’t respond right away. You could tell he was chewing on that—probably picking apart your words, trying to figure you out. He always seemed like the kind of man who noticed everything, even if he didn’t say much about it.

You flashed him a teasing grin, trying to lighten the mood. "What about you? Any skeletons in the closet? Or are you just a man of mystery with perfect timing?"

Logan snorted softly, his lips twitching in that almost-smile he had. "I’m no mystery. Just do my job."

"Oh, come on," you pressed, throwing him a playful look. "You gotta give me something. Favorite food? Ever been married? Deep, dark secret?"

He gave you a sidelong glance, amused but guarded. "Steak. No. And not a chance."

You huffed in mock disappointment, drumming your fingers on the steering wheel. "You’re no fun, Logan."

"Never said I was," he muttered, but there was warmth in his tone, like he didn’t mind your teasing at all.

The conversation paused for a moment, the soft hum of the engine filling the space between you. Logan’s eyes lingered on you a little longer than they probably should have—taking in the curve of your smile, the way your fingers tapped a rhythm on the wheel.

And damn, if you didn’t make it hard to stay detached. You were so... alive. Every glance, every smile, every little laugh. You carried yourself like someone who knew how fleeting things could be—and even though Logan knew you couldn’t remember, he remembered every time you’d slipped through his fingers. That thought settled heavy in his chest, like a weight he carried everywhere.

You shot him a grin. "You know, if you keep looking at me like that, I’m gonna think you’re interested."

Logan’s lips twitched. "What makes you think I’m not?"

The boldness of his response caught you off guard for a second, but you recovered quickly, leaning a little closer, eyes glinting with mischief. "Careful, tough guy. You’re supposed to be protecting me, not flirting with me."

"Who says I can’t do both?" His voice was low, rough, and it sent a small shiver down your spine.

You tilted your head, pretending to consider it. "I think my dad might disagree."

Logan’s eyes darkened slightly, though his expression didn’t change. "Your dad’s not here."

There it was—that pull again, the quiet, unspoken gravity between the two of you. It was like standing on the edge of something dangerous and thrilling all at once. You felt it in the way his gaze lingered, in the weight of his words. He wasn’t just playing along.

You cleared your throat, breaking the tension with a teasing smile. "Well, if you’re planning on making a move, Logan, you better make it good. I’ve got high standards, y’know."

Logan let out a low chuckle—quiet, but genuine—and for a moment, you thought you saw something softer in his eyes. Something like... affection.

But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by that familiar guarded expression.

"Noted," he muttered, shifting his gaze back to the road ahead.

You grinned, satisfied that you’d managed to chip away at his walls, even if only a little.

---

The two of you finished your errands without any trouble, stopping by a grocery store for some essentials and grabbing a late lunch at a small diner tucked away from the main streets. It wasn’t much—just burgers and fries—but sitting across from Logan in the booth, you felt surprisingly content.

He was quiet most of the time, but not in a way that felt awkward. It was... comfortable. Like he didn’t need to fill the silence just for the sake of it. And every now and then, he’d throw out a dry, sarcastic comment that made you laugh harder than you expected.

You leaned back in the booth, sipping your soda and watching him over the rim of your glass. "Y’know, Logan... you’re not half as scary as you look."

Logan raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. "Disappointed?"

"Not at all," you replied, your smile turning a little softer. "I like surprises."

He held your gaze for a moment, something unreadable flickering behind those sharp blue eyes. And for a second—just a second—you thought maybe, just maybe, there was something familiar about the way he looked at you. Like you were more than just a job to him.

But before you could dwell on it, Logan glanced at his watch and cleared his throat. "We should head back. Your old man’ll be expecting you."

You sighed dramatically, sliding out of the booth. "Guess my fun’s over."

Logan chuckled, tossing a few bills on the table for the check. "For now."

You gave him a playful nudge as you walked past him toward the door. "Don’t sound too excited."

---

By the time you got back to the house, the sun was starting to dip below the horizon, casting the streets in a soft orange glow. Logan followed you inside, his quiet presence grounding you in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

"Thanks for today," you said, tossing your jacket onto a chair.

Logan gave a small nod, leaning against the wall near the door. "No problem."

You hesitated for a moment, then shot him one last grin. "You know, you’re not as bad as I thought."

"Same to you," he replied, that almost-smile creeping back onto his face.

And just like that, the unspoken connection between you simmered beneath the surface, waiting.

Maybe Logan was right. Maybe your dad would be pissed if he knew how much you enjoyed your new bodyguard’s company.

But standing there, watching Logan’s gaze linger on you for just a beat too long, you found you didn’t care all that much.

"Goodnight, Logan," you said softly, turning toward the stairs.

"Goodnight, Y/N," he replied, his voice low and steady.

And as you climbed the stairs, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t the first time you’d said goodnight to him like this.

Not by a long shot.

---

Your dad told you not to leave the house today, which was fine by you, you had laundry to do anyways.

It had become habit to do your own laundry, even if you did have maids around the house. Nancy, one of the older maids, was the one to teach you that, along with cooking and cleaning since your mother has been gone since you were little.

You had a radio set on the washer, the familiar croon of 70s tunes filling the small laundry room as you pulled warm clothes from the dryer into a basket. You’d been at it for the better part of the morning, the simple domestic task giving you a sense of normalcy. The soft hum of the machines, the crackling radio, and the scent of clean laundry— it was all routine.

Routine helped keep your mind off the storm brewing outside your little bubble.

You sighed, swaying your hips a bit to the music as you lifted the basket. The house felt quieter today, with your dad off dealing with ‘business’ as usual. And Logan? He was somewhere nearby, probably lurking in the shadows like the brooding protector he was.

As if on cue, Logan appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. He was dressed in his usual dark clothing, looking as stoic as ever. You wondered if he ever wore anything other than flannels and a leather jacket.

"You know, I didn’t take you for the laundry-doing type," he remarked, his gravelly voice cutting through the music.

You raised an eyebrow, throwing a playful glance over your shoulder. "What, you think I’m too spoiled to do my own chores?"

Logan's lips twitched, almost forming a smile. "Something like that."

You smirked, grabbing the laundry basket and turning to face him. "I like to surprise people."

"You’re good at it," he replied, his gaze lingering a little longer than usual. There was something behind those eyes, something deeper, but as always, he kept it hidden beneath that calm, impenetrable exterior.

You tilted your head, leaning your hip against the dryer. "You sticking around or just checking on me?"

Logan shrugged, though his eyes never left yours. "Just making sure you're not running off anywhere. Your dad was pretty clear about staying put."

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips softened the gesture. "I’ll be a good girl. Promise."

Logan grunted in response, pushing off the doorframe and walking closer. "You’re a lot of things, Y/N. Not sure ‘good girl’ is one of them."

You let out a laugh, swatting at him with a towel. "Hey, I can behave when I want to. It’s just more fun not to."

He caught your wrist with ease, holding it for a second too long before letting go. There was that familiar tension between you again, the unspoken something that crackled in the air whenever the two of you were close. He probably didn't mean to linger, but you could feel it—that pull.

"Maybe it’s the company," you teased, grabbing your laundry basket. "You bring out the best in me."

Logan didn’t respond immediately, but there was something in his eyes, something that made your breath hitch. He was quiet, but not in the usual way bodyguards were. With Logan, there was a weight to his silence, like he was always holding back, always watching.

You pushed past the lingering tension with a grin, heading toward the door with your laundry. "Come on, broody. Let’s get out of the laundry room before we both go stir-crazy."

As you passed by, you brushed against him—just lightly, but enough to send a small jolt through you. He didn’t move, but his eyes followed your every step, that silent intensity never wavering.

You stopped in the hallway and shot him a look over your shoulder. “You’re making this way too serious, you know. I’m doing laundry, not sneaking out of prison.”

“Old habits die hard,” he replied, crossing his arms with a slight smirk. “Besides, I think your dad’s idea of ‘safe’ is pretty different from yours.”

You rolled your eyes, hugging the laundry basket closer. “Right. Next, he’ll say I need an escort to the mailbox.”

Logan raised a brow, clearly amused. “You wouldn’t be the first.”

That earned him a laugh, and you shook your head, settling the basket on the table in the hall. “Guess you’re stuck with me then, bodyguard.”

“Doesn’t seem so bad,” he said, his voice softening as he glanced at you. His gaze was familiar in a way you couldn’t place, like he’d looked at you this way a hundred times before.

“Yeah?” You took a step closer, crossing your arms with a playful grin. “And here I thought I’d be driving you crazy.”

“You do,” he murmured, almost too quietly. His lips turned up slightly, but he looked away, that unspoken wall going back up.

“Good,” you teased, reaching out to poke him in the chest. “Keeps things interesting.”

Logan caught your hand before you could pull it back, holding it just long enough that you could feel the warmth of his touch, the quiet strength in it. There was something in his eyes that hinted at… more. Like he’d known you far longer than you could’ve ever guessed.

“Is that what you want?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart thumped, but you kept your tone light. “Depends on what you’re offering, doesn’t it?”

His gaze dropped to your hand, still caught in his. He let go, but there was something in his expression that lingered. It was like he was searching for the right words, something he couldn’t quite say. Or maybe didn’t want to.

Instead, he settled back with that guarded look. “Better get used to me being around,” he said, nodding toward the front of the house. “Your dad won’t have it any other way.”

You glanced down the hall and shrugged. “Guess I can live with that. For now.”

Logan’s lips twitched, just barely. “For now,” he echoed, and there was something heavier in those words, something he wasn’t sharing.

You lingered for a moment, the silence stretching between you, before you picked up the basket again. “Well, I’ve got more laundry to fold. But if you feel like helping out…”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Nice try, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes, shooting him a wink. “Fine. I’ll let you off easy this time.”

“Appreciate it,” he said with a smirk, but his eyes softened as he watched you turn to go, like he was holding back something he couldn’t quite name.

As you walked away, the light-heartedness of the moment stayed with you, but so did something else. It was that look Logan had, the one that made you feel seen, like he knew you better than anyone else ever had.

Maybe he did.

Or maybe, in some impossible way, he always had.

---

“No, no, no, cara. Give it to me.” Nancy took the mixing bowl away from you, stirring the batter while muttering something in Italian.

You leaned your hip against the counter, placing your head on Nancy’s shoulder with a pout. "I was doing what you’re doing.”

Nancy shook her head, stirring the batter with a practiced hand, her warm, familiar presence comforting. “No, cara mia, you were doing what you think I’m doing.” She shot you a look, one of those fond, chiding glances she’d perfected over the years. “And it was not the same.”

You laughed, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Fine, but you’re teaching me bad habits. This is how I stay spoiled, you know.”

She chuckled, patting your cheek affectionately. “You think you need me to be spoiled? You do just fine on your own.”

Before you could respond, Logan’s familiar silhouette appeared in the doorway. He leaned against the frame, watching you with a slight smirk that was becoming all too familiar—and endearing.

“Careful, Nancy,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “She’s already hard enough to handle.”

You turned, hands on your hips, feigning offense. “Excuse me, hard to handle?”

Logan shrugged, crossing his arms with a smirk. “You said it, not me.”

Nancy chuckled, eyes sparkling as she looked between you and Logan. “Ah, Y/N, he’s right. You do have a little spirit.”

You scoffed playfully, giving Logan an exaggerated glare before grinning back at Nancy. “What? I’m an angel, and you know it.”

Logan snorted, clearly enjoying himself. “Right. A real saint.” He gave you a knowing look, one that made your stomach flip despite yourself. That unspoken energy simmered between you two, even as you tried to keep it casual.

Nancy just shook her head, muttering something in Italian as she set the bowl down. “Angels don’t cause so much trouble,” she teased, pinching your cheek. “I taught you better.”

You rubbed your cheek with a grin, leaning back against the counter. “I’m blaming Logan. His bad influence must be rubbing off on me.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “That right? Thought you didn’t need any help there.”

“Oh, I don’t,” you said, crossing your arms with a challenging look. “I’m fully capable of trouble on my own.”

Nancy watched the two of you with a satisfied smile, turning back to her baking. “Ah, I see,” she murmured, her voice light. “It’s good to have someone who knows how to keep you in check.”

The glint in her eye wasn’t lost on you, and you rolled your eyes. “You’re making it sound like I’m some kind of wild child.”

“No, no,” she replied with a grin, waving her hand. “Just that I think he knows you better than you think, cara.”

Logan’s gaze softened a little at that, and though he didn’t say anything, his look lingered, as if he were silently agreeing with her.

You cleared your throat, feeling the familiar warmth creeping up your neck. “Well,” you started, trying to brush off the moment, “if Logan’s going to stick around, he might as well help.”

Nancy gave a sly smile, turning to Logan. “What do you say, Logan? A little kitchen work wouldn’t hurt.”

Logan shook his head, holding his hands up in surrender. “You two are doing just fine without me.”

You shot him a grin, taking a step closer. “Oh, come on. Big, tough Logan afraid of a little flour?”

His smirk softened as he looked down at you. “You keep pushing, and I might just teach you a lesson in troublemaking.”

Your stomach fluttered at the way his gaze stayed locked on yours, that familiar pull tugging you closer. “Is that a threat?”

“Call it… a warning,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand brushed against yours, just for a second, but it was enough to send a spark up your arm.

Nancy cleared her throat, clearly amused. “Okay, okay. I don’t need you two making a mess of my kitchen.”

You stepped back, giving Nancy a sheepish smile, and Logan chuckled, the sound low and easy. “She’s right,” he said, nodding toward the door. “Guess I’ll just keep an eye on you from a safe distance.”

Nancy gave him a knowing look, shaking her head with a chuckle. “If only it were that simple.”

---

“Ah, stay still, cara.” Nancy chided you, taking out a roller from your hair.

You gave Nancy a pout, eyes skimming your reflection in the mirror with clear discontent. "I don’t like it." Your voice held more weight than just the hair and makeup, though, and Nancy seemed to pick up on it.

She clicked her tongue, smoothing out a curl before looking at you through the mirror. “Ah, cara mia, tonight is important to your father. Besides,” she added, eyes glinting, “you look beautiful, yes?”

You gave her a half-hearted smile, brushing your hands over the bright yellow fabric of your dress. The dress was elegant and too formal for your taste, the kind of thing you’d never have chosen if it weren’t for your dad’s insistence on making you ‘presentable’ for his associates.

Nancy sighed, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Y/N, it’s one night. Then you’ll be back to your regular clothes, hmm?”

You grinned, rolling your eyes. “Can’t come soon enough.”

Just as you were about to add more, there was a quiet knock at the door. You looked up, already expecting Logan’s familiar silhouette. He leaned against the frame, hands in his pockets, his usual air of calm doing little to hide the intense look in his eyes as he took in the sight of you in the dress.

“Looks like they’ve got you all dolled up,” he remarked, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

You shot him a look, half annoyed, half amused. “Yeah, laugh it up, tough guy. Bet you’re glad it’s not you in this thing.”

Logan chuckled, stepping further into the room. “You could say that.” His eyes met yours, and for a brief second, there was something in his gaze, something you couldn’t quite put into words. But just as quickly, he looked away.

Nancy gave you a knowing smile, patting your shoulder before stepping back. “Logan,” she said, with a gentle warning in her voice, “take care of her tonight, yes?”

Logan’s expression softened, his gaze turning protective as he looked at you. “Always do.”

Nancy winked, then left the room, leaving you alone with him.

You let out a sigh, reaching for the hem of your dress as if you could somehow make it less constricting. “Do I really have to go down there?”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You think your dad’s throwing this party for fun? Whole point is for you to be seen.”

“Great,” you muttered, moving toward the door. But as you passed him, Logan placed a hand on your shoulder, stopping you.

“You’ll be fine,” he said, his voice lower, more reassuring. “They’re not expecting anything from you. Just show up, smile, let them know you exist.”

You looked up at him, searching his face. He was steady, calm, his expression soft in a way he rarely let others see. You didn’t know why, but having him there made you feel a little more at ease. “Guess I don’t have much choice, do I?”

“Nope,” he replied, his mouth twitching into that almost-smile.

With a resigned sigh, you squared your shoulders. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

---

The party was everything you’d dreaded: formal, suffocating, and filled with people whose only interest in you was as your father’s daughter. You’d stuck close to Logan most of the night, exchanging quiet remarks whenever the chance arose, his presence the only thing keeping you from losing your mind. But as the night wore on, a few glasses of champagne and the tension of the evening started to wear on you.

You tugged on Logan’s sleeve as you leaned in close. “Think anyone would notice if I snuck out?” you murmured, your breath warm against his ear.

Logan chuckled low, his gaze flickering over you. “Considering your dad’s been watching you like a hawk? Probably.”

You rolled your eyes, letting your hand brush his arm. “Figures. He can’t just let me have one night off.” You shifted closer, feeling his warmth through his jacket, and gave him a mischievous smile. “Bet you didn’t sign up for babysitting duty.”

“Didn’t realize you’d need it,” he replied with a smirk, his voice barely loud enough for you to hear.

You nudged him playfully, letting your hand linger on his arm. “I don’t,” you said, a little more insistently. “You just don’t know what to do with me.”

His eyes met yours, and there was something dark and unspoken in his gaze. “Careful,” he murmured, his voice dropping. “I might take you up on that.”

The hint of challenge in his tone sent a thrill through you, and you leaned closer, your hand settling on his chest as you whispered, “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

You could feel his heartbeat, steady beneath your hand, but his expression gave nothing away. He looked down at you, his jaw tight, but his eyes held that familiar intensity, the kind that had always made you wonder just how long he’d been watching you. It was intoxicating, that pull between you, and tonight, with the champagne loosening your guard, you felt bolder than usual.

When you finally pulled away, you could feel his gaze following you, but you didn’t let yourself look back. Instead, you mingled through the crowd, smiling politely, pretending to listen to conversations while stealing glances at Logan across the room.

After what felt like hours, your father’s attention finally shifted, and you took the chance to slip away to your bedroom.

As you walked up the stairs, Logan trailed behind you, like always. You were tired of this, of the flirting, how he did it back to you, but how nothing ever happened.

Well tonight you were done with that.

You opened your bedroom door and sat on the bed, quickly slipping off your heels and tossing them carelessly across the room. The muffled sounds of laughter and clinking glasses filtered up from downstairs, where the party raged on. Logan stood in the doorway, as he always did, watching you in that silent, intense way that had been driving you crazy for months.

You looked up at him, your fingers playing with the hem of your short yellow dress, the fabric brushing against your thighs as you shifted on the bed. “You comin’ in, or are you just gonna stand there all night?”

Logan didn’t respond right away, his jaw ticking as his eyes flicked over you, taking in the sight of you sitting there, legs crossed, your dress riding up just enough to tease. He sighed, stepping into the room but staying near the door. “Your old man’s got half the city downstairs, Y/N. This ain’t the time.”

You raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at your lips. “Since when do you care about my dad? He’s not your boss.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, the leather of his jacket creaking. “He pays me to keep you safe, not… this.”

You stood up from the bed, taking a step toward him. “This?” you repeated, voice playful, but you could feel the tension in the air thickening. “And what is ‘this,’ Logan?”

He didn’t answer, just stood there, his eyes dark and unreadable, but you could see the way his body tensed when you got closer, the way his gaze flicked down to your legs before snapping back up to your face.

You reached out, your fingers brushing against the rough material of his flannel, and you could feel the heat of his body through the layers of fabric. He stiffened, his hand catching your wrist, but it wasn’t harsh. Just enough to stop you.

“Y/N, don’t,” he warned, his voice low, rough.

You tilted your head, stepping even closer until your body was almost pressed against his. “Why not?” you asked softly. “You’ve been following me around for months. Always there, always watching. What are you so afraid of?”

“I’m not afraid,” he muttered, but his grip on your wrist tightened just a little, like he was holding himself back. “You’re too young for this. I work for your dad.”

You pulled your wrist free, undeterred, your hand now resting against his chest. “I’m not a kid, Logan. And you don’t work for him—you work for me. You’ve been protecting me, haven’t you?”

His eyes narrowed. “That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

“Then what do you mean?” you shot back, moving even closer, your fingers trailing up to his shoulder, over the leather of his jacket. “You’ve been pulling away from me every time I get close, but you keep coming back.”

Logan’s jaw clenched, his hands hovering near your waist, as if he was afraid to touch you. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk,” you said firmly, your voice steady. “And you know that.” You pressed a little harder, your lips just inches from his jaw, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his skin. “You don’t have to keep pretending like you don’t want this.”

His hands shot up to your shoulders, gripping you tightly, but he didn’t push you away this time. His breathing was heavier now, the muscles in his arms tensing as if he was fighting against himself. “You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he growled, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Maybe not,” you admitted, your lips brushing the stubble on his jaw as you spoke. “But I know what I want.”

Logan groaned low in his throat, his fingers tightening on your shoulders, but still, he didn’t push you away. His resistance was crumbling, you could feel it.

“You’re not a kid,” he repeated quietly, almost like he was trying to convince himself.

“No,” you whispered back, your lips ghosting along the side of his neck, your hands moving to his chest, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt. “I’m not.”

In a swift movement, you pushed him back toward the chair in the corner of the room, his legs hitting the edge as you guided him down. He sat heavily, his hands falling from your shoulders to your hips, still trying to hold onto that last bit of control.

You straddled his thigh, your dress riding up as you settled against him, the heat of your body pressed against the denim of his jeans. His hands moved up to your waist, holding you in place, but the look in his eyes told you he was barely holding on.

“Y/N,” he rasped, but his voice was shaky, uncertain.

You didn’t give him time to think. You started moving, rocking your hips against his thigh, slow at first, testing. His grip on your waist tightened, his eyes darkening as he watched you, the tension in his body radiating through his hands.

He wasn’t stopping you.

You bit your lip, your breath hitching as you pressed harder against him, the friction sending a jolt of heat through you. Logan groaned, his hands sliding down to your hips, holding you steady as you moved. His control was slipping, and you could feel it.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his head falling back against the chair, his eyes squeezed shut.

You leaned forward, your lips brushing his ear. “Still think I’m too young?”

Logan’s jaw clenched, his hands gripping you harder as you rocked against him, the rough fabric of his jeans rubbing against the thin material of your underwear. Every movement sent sparks of pleasure through you, and you could tell from the way his breathing quickened that he was feeling it too.

His hands slid up your sides, fingers digging into your skin as he tried to pull you closer, but you were in control now. You pressed your lips to his neck, kissing the exposed skin, feeling the tension in his body as you kissed down toward his collarbone, your fingers tangling in his shirt.

Logan groaned, his hands gripping you tighter as you moved faster, grinding against his thigh with more urgency. The heat between your legs was almost unbearable now, the pressure building with every movement, every gasp that escaped your lips.

Logan's eyes were shut tight, head thrown back against the chair, his hands gripping your waist like he was the one trying to stay grounded. But you weren’t stopping, not after all the months of back-and-forth, all the moments you’d caught him watching you with that dark, unreadable look. The friction, the heat pooling between your legs, was everything you’d been waiting for, and it was clear from the roughness of his breathing that he wasn’t far behind.

You pressed harder, your hips rolling against his thigh as you gripped his shoulders to steady yourself. The thin fabric of your dress had ridden up, and you knew he could feel just how soaked you were through the denim of his jeans. His hands were at your waist, digging into your skin in a way that bordered on painful but only made you push down harder, rocking your hips with more insistence.

Logan’s voice was rough when he finally spoke, his hands tightening as if he was trying to keep himself from pulling you in closer. “Y/N… you’re playin’ with fire here,” he growled, the words thick, like he was barely holding back.

You ignored him, pressing a little harder, your lips hovering just over the edge of his jaw as you breathed, “Maybe I like the heat.”

His jaw clenched, but his hands slid up, settling just under your ribs, holding you steady as you moved. Each shift of your hips brought another groan out of him, the sound vibrating through his chest and sending a thrill straight through you. You could feel yourself getting closer, your breath coming in shallow gasps as the pressure built, the heat between your legs almost too much to bear.

“Logan,” you whispered, your hands slipping up to tangle in his hair, pulling his face closer. You could see the restraint etched across his face, the way his jaw was clenched tight, like he was struggling to keep himself from giving in. “I need you.”

His hands tensed on your waist, fingers digging in harder, his breathing growing rougher with every word that slipped from your lips. But he didn’t pull away; if anything, he held you tighter, letting you grind against him, the rough denim of his jeans rubbing against you in a way that left you breathless, desperate.

“You know what you’re doin’ to me?” he muttered, his voice barely more than a growl as his eyes met yours, dark and full of something you’d been longing to see for months.

“Maybe,” you replied, a small, breathless smile tugging at your lips as you kept moving, kept pressing closer, feeling the tension between you both thicken until it was almost unbearable. “Maybe I want to see how far you’ll let me go.”

Logan groaned, his grip tightening as his eyes fell shut again, his hands shifting to guide your hips, helping you keep up the steady rhythm that was driving you both closer to the edge. You leaned forward again, your lips brushing against his neck, pressing soft kisses along the exposed skin as you rocked against him, the heat building with every second.

“Y/N,” he rasped, his voice so low it sent a shiver through you. “You’re… you’re so damn—”

You cut him off, pressing your lips to the spot just under his ear, feeling the way his breath hitched as your hips ground down harder. You were close, every nerve ending on fire, and you could feel that he was, too. His hands were everywhere, sliding up your back, pressing you closer, holding you tight like he was afraid to let go.

And then, finally, the pressure broke. You gasped, fingers digging into his shoulders as your hips stilled, your body shuddering against him. Logan’s grip on your waist tightened, his own breath hitching as he held you steady, his hands warm and solid as you rode out the waves of pleasure.

He was quiet for a long moment, his breathing heavy, and you could feel the way his body had tensed beneath you, the strain in his hands as he held himself back. Slowly, you looked up, meeting his gaze, and the intensity in his eyes made your breath catch all over again.

Without a word, Logan shifted, his hands sliding down to hook under your thighs as he stood, lifting you with a strength that sent another thrill through you. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as he carried you to the bed, the heat in his gaze leaving no room for second thoughts, no hesitation. This was it, and you were ready.

He laid you down, his hands lingering on your thighs, his fingers brushing over your skin as he looked down at you, his expression a mix of hunger and restraint. You reached up, tugging him closer until he was hovering over you, his weight pressing down just enough to make you feel secure, safe.

This was what you’d been waiting for, what you’d both been skirting around for too long. Logan’s hands slid up your sides, his fingers trailing along the fabric of your dress, and you felt your breath hitch as his gaze darkened, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

His thumbs brushed the exposed skin just above the low neckline of your dress, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You watched him, eyes locked on his as he leaned in, his jaw tight, the hunger in his gaze barely restrained. The room felt smaller, warmer, like the air had thickened between you.

And then, finally, his mouth was on yours.

The kiss was desperate, wild, like he was making up for lost time. His lips claimed yours with a roughness that sent a shiver down your spine, his hands moving to cradle your face, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t stand the distance. You gasped against his mouth, your fingers finding their way into his hair, tugging him down harder.

It had been seventy-three years since he’d last kissed you—nearly three quarters of a century of holding back—and the intensity of it showed. It was all-consuming, like he was trying to make up for every second he’d denied himself this.

Logan groaned into your mouth, a deep, almost pained sound, and the desperation in it made your blood race. He kissed you like he was starving, like he needed this, needed you, and you felt your body melt into him. His hands slid down your body, rough and sure, stopping at your hips to pull you flush against him. The heat between your legs was almost unbearable, and the friction of his jeans against your thighs only made it worse.

You broke the kiss for air, your breaths coming fast, but Logan didn’t stop. His mouth found your neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the curve of your throat, teeth scraping against your skin just enough to make you gasp. His hands were everywhere, tracing the curve of your waist, the swell of your hips, gripping you with a possessiveness that sent a thrill through you.

“Logan,” you whispered, your voice breathless, needy. You tilted your head back, giving him better access as his lips continued their descent, leaving a path of fire along your skin. Your hands fisted in his flannel, pulling him closer, and he groaned again, the sound vibrating through your body.

“God, Y/N,” he rasped, his voice thick with desire, like he was barely holding on. His hands slipped under your dress, fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of your thighs, and you shivered, your breath catching in your throat. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes heavy-lidded, pupils blown wide with need. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he muttered, but the words were laced with something softer, something that made your heart skip.

You didn’t reply, just pulled him down for another kiss, this one just as desperate as the first. Your hands roamed over his chest, slipping beneath the open flannel to feel the heat of his skin, the hard muscles that tensed under your touch. Logan shivered, his breath catching as your fingers brushed against his bare chest, and you felt a rush of satisfaction at the way he reacted to you.

His jacket slipped from his shoulders, landing somewhere on the floor, but neither of you paid it any mind. Your hands were already pushing the flannel off him, revealing more of his skin, and Logan helped you, shrugging it off with a growl of impatience. The white beater he wore beneath clung to his chest, and you could see the way his muscles flexed beneath it, the way the fabric stretched taut over his shoulders.

He leaned back down, capturing your lips in another searing kiss, and you moaned into his mouth, your nails digging into his shoulders. Logan’s hands were back under your dress, sliding up, leaving trails of heat in their wake. His touch was rough, calloused, but so incredibly gentle in a way that made your heart ache. You arched into him, your body pressing closer, desperate for more, for everything he was willing to give.

“Fuck,” he muttered against your mouth, his hands sliding higher until his thumbs brushed the edge of your panties. He paused, breathing heavily, his eyes searching yours, looking for any sign of hesitation. But there was none. You were all in, had been from the moment you’d first seen him.

You reached down, grabbing his wrists and guiding his hands further up, silently urging him on. Logan’s breath hitched, and his eyes darkened even more, a low growl rumbling in his chest. His fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, and you could feel your heart pounding as he tugged, the thin fabric slipping down your legs.

"Fuck, Y/N," he growled, his voice thick with need as his calloused hands slid back up your thighs, pushing your dress higher. "You're so damn wet already."

You gasped as his fingers brushed against your center, your hips jerking up instinctively. "Logan, please," you whimpered, reaching for him.

He leaned down to kiss you hard, his tongue pushing into your mouth as his fingers began exploring you properly. The roughness of his hands contrasted with how gently he touched you, like he was afraid of breaking you. You moaned into his mouth as he slid one thick finger inside, your hands gripping his shoulders.

"That's it, darlin'," he murmured against your lips. "Let me hear you."

Your dress was bunched around your waist now as Logan worked another finger into you, stretching you carefully. Your earlier orgasm had left you sensitive, making every touch feel electric. His thumb found your clit and began rubbing slow circles that had you writhing beneath him.

"Logan," you gasped, your nails digging into his skin through his beater. "I need—ah!—I need more."

He growled low in his throat, curling his fingers inside you. "Tell me what you need, Y/N. Say it."

Your face flushed but you met his eyes. "I need you inside me. Please, Logan. I've wanted this for so long."

Something dark and possessive flashed in his eyes. He withdrew his fingers, making you whimper at the loss, and reached down to undo his belt. The metal clinked as he pulled it free, the sound sending a thrill through you.

You sat up enough to pull your dress over your head, leaving you in just your bra. Logan's eyes raked over you hungrily as he pushed his jeans down his hips. The obvious bulge in his boxers made your mouth go dry.

"Come here," he growled, pulling you into another searing kiss as his hands found the clasp of your bra. It took him only seconds to undo it, and then you were bare before him, your nipples hardening in the cool air.

Logan's mouth moved to your neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks as his hands cupped your breasts. You moaned as he rolled your nipples between his fingers, your back arching into his touch.

"Fuck, you're perfect," he muttered against your skin, his voice rough. He shifted to take one nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak as you gasped and squirmed beneath him.

Your hands found the hem of his beater, tugging insistently until he pulled back long enough to yank it off. The sight of his bare chest, all hard muscle and dark hair, made heat pool between your legs. There were old scars scattered across his skin - remnants of wounds time hadn't quite erased.

You reached for his boxers but he caught your wrists, pinning them above your head with one large hand. "Not yet," he growled, his free hand sliding down between your legs again. "Want to make sure you're ready for me."

His fingers found your clit again and you cried out, oversensitive and desperate. "Logan, please," you begged, trying to buck your hips up against his hand. "I'm ready, I swear. I need you now."

He studied your face for a long moment, his eyes dark with desire, before releasing your wrists. "Take them off," he ordered, nodding to his boxers.

Your hands shook slightly as you pushed the fabric down his hips, freeing his cock. He was huge, thick and hard, already leaking at the tip. You wrapped your hand around him, stroking slowly, and Logan's breath hitched.

"Careful, darlin'," he warned, his voice strained. "Been wanting this too long to end it early."

He pushed you back onto the bed, settling between your spread thighs. The head of his cock brushed against your entrance and you both groaned. Logan braced himself on his forearms above you, his eyes locked on yours.

"You sure about this?" he asked, his voice rough but gentle. "Once I start, I don't know if I'll be able to stop."

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "I'm sure. Please, Logan. I want you."

He kissed you hard as he began pushing inside, swallowing your gasps as he stretched you open. The burn was intense but perfect, your body gradually adjusting to his size. Logan moved slowly, giving you time to adapt, but you could feel the tension in his muscles as he held himself back.

"Fuck," he groaned when he was finally fully seated inside you. "So tight, darlin'. Feel so good around me."

You clutched at his shoulders, panting. "Move," you urged. "Please, I need—"

Logan pulled back and thrust forward again, setting a steady rhythm that had you seeing stars. Each stroke hit something deep inside you that made pleasure spark through your whole body. His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he fucked into you with increasing force.

"That's it," he growled, watching your face contort with pleasure. "Take it, Y/N. Take all of me."

Your nails raked down his back as the pressure built inside you again. Logan's thrusts grew harder, faster, driving you both toward the edge. The headboard banged against the wall with each movement but neither of you cared about the noise.

"Logan," you gasped, feeling yourself getting close. "I'm gonna—ah!"

"Come for me," he ordered, his voice rough. One hand slid between your bodies to rub your clit. "Want to feel you come on my cock."

The added stimulation pushed you over the edge. You came with a cry, your body clenching around him as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Logan growled, his rhythm faltering as your walls pulsed around him.

"Fuck, Y/N," he groaned, his thrusts growing erratic. "Where do you want—"

"Inside," you gasped, still riding the aftershocks. "Please, Logan. Wanna feel you."

He cursed, his hips snapping forward a few more times before he buried himself deep with a growl, spilling inside you. You could feel him pulsing, filling you up as he collapsed onto his forearms above you.

For several long moments, the only sound was your heavy breathing. Logan's forehead rested against yours, his eyes closed as he caught his breath. You ran your hands up and down his back, feeling the sweat-slick skin under your palms.

Finally, he pulled out carefully and rolled onto his side, pulling you with him. You winced slightly at the soreness between your legs, but it was a good kind of ache. Logan's arms wrapped around you, holding you close against his chest.

---

Logan let out a low groan as he woke, the bed beneath him feeling far too comfortable, unfamiliar in a way that immediately set him on edge. It took a second for his mind to catch up, piecing together where he was and, more importantly, who he was with.

He didn’t need to look over to feel the warmth beside him, or the way your hair fanned out across the pillow. It hit him all at once—the heat of your skin against his, the way you’d leaned into him last night, confident, unrestrained. He opened his eyes, gaze finding you lying beside him, face soft and peaceful in sleep, an arm draped over his chest as if you’d claimed him in the night.

Logan sighed, glancing at the ceiling, but couldn’t help looking down at you again, still asleep and blissfully unaware of the storm in his head. He’d known it was a bad idea from the start, coming upstairs with you last night, letting his guard down. But damn, when you’d gotten close, pushing him toward that chair with that look in your eyes—he’d been gone the second you’d touched him.

He was even further gone when he had finally kissed you—it was one of his biggest regrets the last time he had seen you back in 1943—he never held you the way he wanted to. Too afraid that maybe he was the problem, the reason you kept on dying over and over.

And because of that, he hadn’t been this close to you since 1900.

It was strange, being here like this—letting his guard down after all those lives, all those memories of watching you fade out of his reach. A part of him had always tried to keep a distance, to save himself from the heartbreak he knew was coming. But last night… last night, he’d been weak.

He brushed a thumb over your arm without thinking, lost in thought. It was impossible not to wonder, with you lying beside him like this, what it would be like if this time were different. If, just once, he could hold onto you, let himself believe you’d stay.

But he knew better.

His hand lingered on your skin a moment too long, and he felt you stir, your lashes fluttering as you slowly opened your eyes. A soft smile touched your lips when you saw him, and he felt his resolve crack just a little more.

“Mornin’,” he murmured, his voice rougher than he’d meant.

“Mmm,” you hummed, still sleepy, your fingers tracing a lazy pattern over his chest. “Didn’t think you’d still be here.” You said it lightly, but there was a hint of something else there—relief, maybe. “Guess I finally wore you out.”

Logan huffed, his lips tugging into a smirk. “Guess so.”

You shifted to look at him, your eyes bright with that familiar mischief. “So, what’s your excuse this time?”

He raised a brow. “Excuse?”

“Yeah. For pulling away,” you said, your tone casual but pointed. “You’ve always got one.”

Logan’s jaw clenched slightly, and he broke eye contact, looking away. “It’s complicated, Y/N.”

You reached up, cupping his face and guiding his gaze back to you. “That’s what you always say. Doesn’t mean it has to be.”

He was silent for a moment, searching your face. He could feel the weight of his past with you, all those memories stacking up like a dam holding back a flood. But he couldn’t let you in on that. Couldn’t make you carry the burden of knowing you’d lived—and died—so many times before. It was his cross to bear, not yours.

“Maybe I just don’t want you getting hurt,” he finally said, his voice quieter, a touch raw.

You let out a short, incredulous laugh. “Please, Logan. You think I don’t know what I’m doing?”

Logan just shook his head, but he couldn’t help the small, amused smile that crept onto his face. “You’re a handful, you know that?”

“I’ve heard that once or twice,” you teased, running your hand along his chest. “Lucky for you, I don’t scare easy.”

That hint of defiance in your voice tugged at something deep inside him, and he caught your hand, holding it in his as he looked into your eyes. “You say that now. But I’ve got a way of… complicating things.”

Your gaze softened, but there was still a spark there, unyielding. “Good thing I like complicated.”

Logan’s eyes darkened, and for a second, he felt that familiar pull, the urge to tell you everything—to let you in on the truth of why he was here, why he couldn’t stay away. But he stopped himself, the weight of all those lost lifetimes bearing down on him again. He couldn’t do that to you, not this time.

“Then I guess I’m stuck with you,” he said, trying to keep his tone light, even though his grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly.

“Guess so,” you replied with a grin, shifting closer. You tilted your head, eyes narrowing as you studied him. “Logan?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you ever gonna stop acting like you’re some kind of curse?” Your voice was soft but firm, like you were daring him to argue.

Logan went silent, his gaze flickering away from yours. You’d hit closer to the truth than you knew.

“Don’t know if I can,” he admitted after a pause. “It’s… complicated.” He shrugged, hoping you’d leave it at that.

But, of course, you didn’t. “Then I guess I’ll just have to keep proving you wrong,” you murmured, pressing a light kiss to his jaw, a warm reassurance that only made him feel the pull of his past even stronger.

He didn’t answer, just closed his eyes, letting himself savor this one small, stolen moment with you. Just this once, he’d allow himself that. Because deep down, he knew he’d always lose you in the end.

And this time, he was determined to make it last as long as he could. Maybe, just maybe, even put that ring to use.

---

You were back at the dog shelter, this time staying a little bit longer since one of the workers, Amelia, was out sick.

Lorraine handed you a few leashes, “mind taking some of ‘em out for a walk?”

You happily grabbed the roped leashes, “of course.” Then you glanced over at Logan, who had been eyeing the dogs with a mix of amusement and reservation. “You up for walkin’ some too?”

He raised an eyebrow at you, then at the leashes in your hand, but there was a hint of a smirk playing at his lips. “Didn’t take you for a dog wrangler, Y/N.”

You laughed, clipping one of the leashes onto a small brown mutt who was practically bouncing with excitement. “Come on, Logan. What’re you afraid of? They don’t bite—well, not all of them, anyway.”

Logan chuckled, reluctantly stepping forward. “Right. Long as they don’t try to drag me down the street.”

You handed him a leash attached to a shaggy, medium-sized dog with big brown eyes, looking up at him expectantly. “Here. This one’s named Ringo. He’s a sweetheart.”

Logan eyed the dog suspiciously before giving the leash a little tug, testing the waters. “Ringo, huh?” He knelt down and patted the dog’s head, a faint smile crossing his face as the dog leaned into his touch. “Guess you’re alright.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight. “See? He likes you already.” As you finished leashing up a few more of the dogs, you handed the leashes to Logan. “Think you can handle these guys too?”

Logan took the leashes without complaint, looking down at the little group of dogs at his feet. “Guess I don’t have much choice.”

“Good answer,” you teased, giving him a wink before heading toward the door. You led the way outside, the two of you walking side-by-side with the dogs trotting happily along. It was a warm day, and the sun was shining down, casting a soft glow over everything.

Logan glanced over at you as you moved down the sidewalk together, the dogs tugging excitedly at their leashes. You had a carefree smile on your face, and he found himself watching you more than the path ahead, the memory of a few nights ago still vivid in his mind. The thought of it sent a thrill through him—yet at the same time, a pang of dread.

“You always this happy walking dogs, or is it just ‘cause I’m here?” he teased, a little smirk tugging at his lips.

You shot him a playful look. “Guess you’ll never know.” You nudged him lightly with your shoulder, eyes bright with mischief. “But if you keep coming with me, you might find out.”

He let out a small laugh, his gaze softening as he looked away. Even after all these years, you could still surprise him—like the way you’d drag him to places like this or the way you talked about the little things with such enthusiasm. It was one of those qualities he remembered about you from lifetimes ago, and it hadn’t changed. It made him feel like maybe, somehow, this was different.

As you walked a little further, one of the dogs—a scruffy little terrier—yipped and tugged at Logan’s leash, trying to chase after a pigeon. He grunted, holding the leash tightly and muttering, “Settle down, mutt. You’re not goin’ anywhere.”

You laughed, glancing over with an amused smile. “Ringo’s got more energy than you’d think, huh?”

Logan shook his head, but he couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, well, maybe I should be takin’ notes from him.” He looked at you then, and his expression softened. “You’ve really got a thing for these dogs, don’t ya?”

Your smile faded into something more thoughtful as you looked down at the furry pack in front of you. “I dunno. I guess they’re just… easy to be around. They don’t care about who my father is or what I do—they just want someone to be with them, you know?”

Logan nodded, watching the way you interacted with the dogs, your fingers lightly brushing over their heads, your voice soft as you spoke to them. You’d always had that kindness about you, that gentleness that made him want to believe in something better, something… safe.

“You’re good with ‘em,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

You looked up at him, a smile in your eyes. “You know, you’re not so bad with them either, Logan.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah, I think I’ll leave the dog-wranglin’ to you.”

For a while, you walked in comfortable silence, the bustling city around you fading into the background as you wandered through the neighborhood with the dogs. Finally, you reached a small park, and you stopped to let the dogs sniff around.

As they explored, you took a seat on a nearby bench, patting the spot beside you. Logan hesitated for a second before joining you, stretching his legs out in front of him.

You looked over at him, your expression soft. “Thanks for coming today. I know this probably isn’t your ideal way to spend an afternoon.”

Logan shrugged, trying to act casual, but he couldn’t hide the warmth in his gaze. “Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t wanna be,” he said, his voice low.

The sincerity in his words made your heart skip a beat, and you looked away, feeling a little bashful. You fiddled with one of the leashes, clearing your throat. “You know… the more time we spend together, the more I wonder how long you’re planning to stick around.”

He hesitated, his jaw tightening as he considered his answer. He wanted to tell you the truth—that he’d been watching you, waiting for you, for so many lifetimes. But he couldn’t. Instead, he reached out, his hand covering yours where it rested on the bench.

“As long as you’ll have me,” he said quietly.

The words hung between you, and for a moment, it was like the whole world had faded away. You looked up at him, your eyes searching his, trying to read the depths of his expression.

A soft smile touched your lips, and you squeezed his hand. “Then you’re gonna be around for a long time, Logan.”

He felt a strange, hopeful ache in his chest at your words, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to believe that maybe, this time, things could be different.

The dogs barked, breaking the spell, and you both laughed, pulling away as you got up to wrangle them again. But even as you continued on your walk, he stayed close by your side, his hand occasionally brushing yours as you walked—almost as if he was reminding himself that you were real, that you were here with him.

---

Late one night, you lay beside Logan in the dim light filtering through the window, the city’s night sounds a steady hum in the distance. Your head rested on his chest, your fingers tracing lazy circles over the skin above his heart, feeling the steady beat beneath your touch.

Logan shifted slightly, his hand coming up to rest gently on your back. For a long time, he just lay there, watching you in silence, his thumb brushing along your spine. You could tell he was relaxed, but there was something else—a quiet intensity in the way his gaze lingered on you, a heaviness in the air that made your heart race.

“What’re you thinkin’ about?” you murmured, letting your fingers trail up to his collarbone. You glanced up at him, catching the faintest hint of a smile as he met your eyes.

“Just… wonderin’ how I got roped into all this,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting. But the glint in his eyes gave him away, and you saw something softer there.

“Yeah? Doesn’t seem like you mind too much.” You smirked, giving his chest a light pat. “I’d almost say you’re gettin’ attached.”

He snorted, pulling you a little closer, his arm tightening around you. “Could say the same for you,” he replied, his voice low, almost teasing. “You’re insatiable, y’know that?”

You laughed, and the sound was soft in the quiet room. “You’re the one who keeps showin’ up, Logan. If you wanted me to behave, you’d stay away.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Maybe I don’t want you to behave.”

Your fingers stilled on his chest, and you looked up at him with a mischievous glint in your eye. “So you like me like this, then? A little reckless… a little spoiled?” you teased.

He chuckled, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “Yeah,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “Think I do.”

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, and you settled back against his chest, letting your hand rest over his heart. For a while, neither of you said anything, the silence comfortable, his warmth grounding you. It was a rare kind of peace—one that you’d come to cherish whenever you were with him.

But then, curiosity got the better of you, and you lifted your head, giving him a thoughtful look. “Logan,” you began, your voice hesitant. “How long are you gonna stick around? I mean… I know my dad thinks you’re just here for protection, but… it feels like more than that.”

Logan’s gaze darkened, a flash of something unreadable passing over his face. He glanced away, his jaw tensing as he seemed to search for the right words. “As long as you want me here, I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

The weight of his words hung between you, and you felt your heart skip a beat. “Then don’t,” you whispered, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “I don’t want you to.”

He didn’t say anything in response, but his hand slipped up to cup the back of your head, pulling you down into a slow, lingering kiss. There was something different about it this time, a quiet desperation that made your pulse quicken, like he was trying to hold on to this moment, to keep it from slipping away.

When you finally pulled back, you searched his eyes, wondering what was going through his mind. “You’re not gonna let me go, are you?”

A small smile tugged at his lips, though his gaze was still shadowed. “Not a chance, darlin’.”

You felt a surge of affection for him then, this man who’d somehow become both your protector and your closest confidant. He was rough around the edges, guarded and distant with everyone else—but with you, he was different. You brought out a softness in him, a warmth that felt as though it had been buried for a long, long time.

Without thinking, you reached up and brushed a lock of hair from his forehead, your fingertips lingering against his skin. “You know, for a guy who’s supposed to be my bodyguard, you’re doing a terrible job at keeping things professional,” you teased, though there was no bite in your words.

Logan let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You’re the one makin’ things complicated, Y/N.”

“Maybe.” You smirked, your fingers still tracing over his chest. “But you don’t seem to mind.”

He looked at you then, something fierce in his eyes, and for a moment, you saw a glimpse of the man he’d been—a man who’d loved and lost, who’d carried scars from lifetimes past. You wondered if he would ever tell you his story, if he would ever let you in on the secrets he guarded so closely.

But for now, you were content with the silence, with the feel of his heartbeat beneath your hand, with the quiet reassurance that he wasn’t going anywhere.

As the night wore on, you lay there together, wrapped up in each other, the world outside fading away. And for the first time in a long time, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

---

Your father had asked you to come to his office in the spacious house. At first it was nothing but muffled voices from outside the door, until Logan heard your father speak again, for a longer period of time, causing your own voice to rise.

While Logan couldn’t make out the words you were saying even with his enhanced hearing, he could tell you weren’t happy. Your voice carried that sharp edge you only got when something really struck a nerve, and judging by the way you didn’t hold back, it had to be serious.

Logan lingered just outside the heavy, mahogany door of your father’s office, his fists clenched as he heard your voice rising behind it. It was clear you were upset, and whatever was being discussed inside, you didn’t like it. He’d seen you frustrated, angry even, but never like this—there was a desperation in your tone that sent a chill through him.

Moments later, the door flew open, and you stormed out, cheeks flushed with anger, eyes flashing as you spotted him. You barely paused, brushing past him, but Logan caught your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low. “What happened?”

You turned to face him, anger and hurt swirling in your eyes. “He’s… he’s marrying me off, Logan. To that family. After everything he promised me—he said he’d never force me into something like this.”

Logan’s expression hardened. “What are you talkin’ about? He can’t just… marry you off like some kind of deal.”

Your hands were shaking as you brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear, struggling to keep your composure. “Apparently, he can. There’s been this feud with the Romano family for years, and he says this is the only way to keep the peace. To protect me. Protect us.”

Logan’s jaw clenched. He felt a familiar anger rising in him, a deep, protective instinct he’d been fighting to keep under wraps. “So, he’s just gonna throw you into a marriage you don’t want? You don’t even know this guy, do you?”

You shook your head, looking away. “I met him once. He was… polite enough. But that’s not the point, Logan. I don’t want to marry him—or anyone like this. My father always said he’d let me choose, that he wouldn’t… sell me off.” The bitterness in your tone stung, your gaze distant as if replaying the conversation.

Logan searched your face, feeling an ache he couldn’t put into words. “And he knows how you feel about this?”

You swallowed, nodding. “I told him, but he says I don’t understand the bigger picture, that this is what’s best for everyone.” You gave a hollow laugh, looking down. “For everyone but me.”

He felt a pang of guilt, knowing he was just a bodyguard, technically part of the arrangement meant to keep you safe from any threats. But you were more than just a job to him, and the thought of you being forced into something like this made his blood boil. He let out a rough breath, stepping closer. “Y/N, you don’t have to go along with this. Not if you don’t want to.”

Your gaze softened as you looked up at him. “And what am I supposed to do, Logan? Run off in the middle of the night?” You gave a small, bitter smile. “I don’t even know where I’d go.”

He didn’t hesitate, his voice dropping low. “Then we go together. If you don’t wanna go through with this, we’ll figure somethin’ else out.”

Your breath hitched at his words, and for a moment, the anger and hurt seemed to fade, replaced by something warmer, more uncertain. “You’d really… leave everything?”

He shrugged, almost nonchalant, but there was a fierce determination in his eyes. “I got no reason to stay here if you’re not here, too.”

You hesitated, torn between the depth of his offer and the weight of the decision you knew would follow. Finally, you gave a small nod, as if grounding yourself in the moment. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen, Logan, but… I just need to know you’re here. That I’m not going through this alone.”

He reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, Y/N. You got my word on that.”

There was a silence between you, thick and charged, each of you processing the weight of everything unsaid. His gaze stayed locked on yours, and for a moment, the anger and fear in your eyes softened, replaced by something closer to relief. And then, almost impulsively, you took his hand, squeezing it tight.

“Thank you, Logan. I… I needed to hear that,” you said softly, glancing away before meeting his gaze again, vulnerability written all over your face. “Just… don’t let go, okay?”

He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not a chance, darlin’.”

---

Nancy was doing your hair once again for the dinner with the Romano family. You had tried everything over the past few weeks, trying to convince your father that this didn’t have to happen. That he promised you he would never do this.

But no matter what you did, he was firm in his stance, "you're getting married to Clyde, and that's final."

You sat still, staring at your reflection in the mirror as Nancy pinned up the last of your curls. Your face looked composed, serene even, but beneath it, there was a storm brewing—a knot of anger and dread you couldn’t shake. Every time you thought about that dinner tonight, your stomach twisted. Clyde Romano. A stranger. And yet, your father had decided this was your future, and nothing you said seemed to change his mind.

Nancy, sensing the tension, placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "It’ll be alright, Y/N. You’ll be surrounded by family."

Family. Right. But none of them seemed to understand how trapped you felt. You forced a tight-lipped smile, nodding. "Thanks, Nancy."

As she stepped back, there was a light knock at the door. You turned to see Logan standing there, looking slightly uncomfortable in his formal attire but as steadfast as ever. His gaze softened as he took in your appearance, though he quickly masked it.

"Didn’t mean to interrupt," he said, glancing between you and Nancy. "Just wanted to make sure you’re ready."

Nancy finished adjusting your hair and excused herself, leaving you alone with Logan. You looked at him, searching his face, hoping for some kind of lifeline.

"Logan," you murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "I feel like I’m being dragged somewhere I can’t escape from."

He stepped closer, his expression darkening as he listened. “You’re not alone in this, Y/N. You know I’m with you, whatever you decide.” His hand reached out, brushing against your arm, his touch grounding you.

You drew in a shaky breath, steadying yourself. “What if I decide to just… disappear?” you asked, half-joking but mostly serious.

Logan’s eyes met yours, and you saw the unspoken resolve there. “Then I’ll be right behind you. Doesn’t matter where.”

For a moment, you let yourself believe it—that you could simply run, with Logan at your side. But reality crashed back in, and you dropped your gaze.

"I wish it were that simple," you whispered, clenching your fists. "But if I leave, it could tear everything apart."

Logan’s hand settled over yours, his grip firm and reassuring. "Then we make it through tonight. And tomorrow, we figure out the rest. You’re not facing this alone, darlin’. Not as long as I’m here."

You looked up at him, finding strength in his gaze. He’d been your rock through all of this, his presence steady and unwavering. And tonight, that was what you needed most.

“Alright,” you murmured, giving him a small, grateful smile. “Let’s go face this… together.”

He nodded, his grip on your hand a silent promise. Whatever came next, you knew he’d be there, just as he always had been. And with that thought, you found the courage to head downstairs to face your family—and the Romanos—one more time.

---

The dinner was at an Italian restaurant, one your father owned as cover for his business. Your dad sat at the head of the table while Clyde’s father sat at the other end. In front of you was your uncle Ermanno, who was also your dad’s consigliere, while Clyde sat next to you.

Logan, along with the other bodyguards, stood watch at the entrance of the private dining room, their silent gazes sweeping the place. He wore his usual hard expression, though his eyes softened just a touch when they found you across the room. He’d been watching you all night—catching every little shift, each moment you looked down or forced a smile, every subtle tightening of your hand on the tablecloth.

Clyde Romano leaned in a little closer, his arm casually brushing against yours as he tried to make small talk. "So, Y/N, I hear you’ve been helping out at a shelter?"

You nodded, barely meeting his eyes. “Yeah, I volunteer with the dogs mostly. It’s…nice to get away from all this sometimes.” You forced a smile, trying to keep things polite. You could feel your father’s gaze on you, watching for any misstep.

Clyde smiled back, but it felt too rehearsed. “Well, once we’re married, you won’t have to worry about shelters or anything like that. You’ll have enough responsibilities as a Romano.”

You felt your stomach twist at his words. Logan’s gaze sharpened from across the room as he picked up on the slight shift in your expression. You shot him a quick look, your eyes pleading for any kind of rescue. Logan’s jaw tightened, and for a brief moment, he almost looked like he’d step in. But he stayed put, his hands clenched behind his back.

Instead, he looked for the smallest opening. Just as Clyde’s attention was pulled away by his father, Logan slipped into view, leaning down beside you. “You alright?” he murmured, low enough that only you could hear.

“Not even close,” you whispered back, your eyes fixed on your glass. “He’s already talking about our future like… like it’s set in stone.”

Logan’s eyes flickered with something fierce. “We’ll get through this, Y/N. Tonight’s just another show. Nothing more.” His fingers brushed the back of your chair, the barely-there touch sending a wave of calm through you.

But Clyde’s voice cut back in before Logan could say anything more. “Y/N, we were thinking of heading to Italy for the honeymoon. It’ll be a good chance to meet the rest of the family there.”

Your heart sank further. Italy. An entire ocean away, away from everything you knew, from everyone who mattered to you. “Italy,” you echoed, your voice strained but steady.

“Yeah. The Romano estates are beautiful—beaches, vineyards… a real paradise.” He seemed oblivious to your hesitation, already dreaming up plans you’d had no say in. Your father looked pleased, nodding his approval from his end of the table.

Logan straightened, but the look he gave you was unmistakable: You don’t have to do this.

You swallowed, shifting in your seat as Clyde rambled on. When his focus shifted to his own father again, you leaned back just enough to whisper to Logan, “I’m not sure I can keep pretending.”

Logan’s expression softened, and for a second, he let a hint of his guard down. “You don’t have to, darlin’.” His voice was low, almost tender, meant for you alone. “Say the word, and we walk outta here. Right now.”

The thought made your heart skip, but your gaze drifted toward your father, seated across the table with a look of satisfaction. Leaving wasn’t just about you; it would mean defying him, challenging the life he’d molded for you. The thought felt like a mountain on your shoulders.

“I can’t just walk away,” you said quietly. “He’s… he’d never forgive me.”

Logan’s hand brushed yours under the table, a quiet show of support. “Maybe he’s the one who should be asking for forgiveness,” he murmured, his thumb tracing a light circle over your knuckles. The warmth of his touch settled something in you, steadying your breath.

You gave a tiny nod, squeezing his hand for just a second before pulling away. Logan straightened, stepping back to his post but still keeping his gaze on you. Clyde was oblivious, caught up in a conversation with his father about future business plans, each word feeling like a nail in the coffin.

Dinner dragged on, a blur of forced laughter and stiff conversation. Every time you felt yourself sinking, you looked toward Logan. He was there, solid and watchful, like a silent promise of something real in a room full of facades.

Eventually, the families began to wind down, talk shifting to more casual chatter. Clyde, emboldened by the night’s success, reached over and took your hand, his grip possessive. “Soon, you’ll be part of the family, Y/N. You’ll see. You’ll come to love it.”

Your mind screamed at the thought, every fiber of you wanting to pull away. But you held still, not daring to make a scene. Logan’s gaze narrowed, his jaw set as he took in the sight of Clyde’s hand around yours.

Finally, as the night came to an end and the families started to stand, Clyde leaned in with a smug smile. “Ready to go? I thought we’d take a walk, just the two of us.”

Before you could answer, Logan was there, stepping in with a casual yet firm presence. “Mr. Romano,” he said, addressing Clyde but looking right at you, “your father asked to speak with you in private before you head out.”

Clyde frowned but nodded, reluctantly releasing your hand. “I’ll be back soon, Y/N.” He disappeared toward the far end of the room, leaving you alone with Logan.

You let out a slow breath, the tension finally loosening from your shoulders. “Thank you,” you whispered, looking up at him, gratitude spilling from every word.

Logan gave a slight nod. “Couldn’t let him drag you out there without a say.” His voice was rough, but his eyes softened as he held your gaze. “You’re not alone in this, Y/N. Whatever happens… you got me.”

The weight of the night lifted just a little, and for a moment, you almost believed you had a choice in all of this.

---

“A week?” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper as you stood in your father’s office. The weight of the word seemed to pull you under, even as you fought to keep your voice steady.

Your father’s expression was impassive, arms crossed as he looked at you. “Yes, Y/N. The Romano family wants to move quickly. They think it’s best, and I agree. It’s time you take on this responsibility for the family.”

Your jaw clenched. You remembered the promises he made, back when you were younger, that he’d never force you into something like this. “I just… I don’t understand. You always said—”

“People change, Y/N,” he interrupted, his tone firm. “This is what’s best for you and for us. For the family.”

You shook your head, feeling a rush of helplessness. “And what about what I want? I’ve been trying to tell you for weeks that I don’t want this, and you’re not listening.”

He exhaled sharply, the kind of sigh that signaled his patience was running thin. “This isn’t about what you want. I didn’t raise you to be selfish.”

“Selfish?” The word stung, and you couldn’t help the surge of anger that rose within you. “I’m asking for my life. How is that selfish?”

He frowned, unyielding. “Enough, Y/N. This is happening. We’re done discussing it.”

Your breath hitched, but you forced yourself to stay composed. The walls of the office seemed to close in on you, the reality of it settling heavy and cold. You had a week—seven days—to either submit to this life he’d chosen for you or… what? You didn’t even know.

Without another word, you turned and left, fighting the urge to slam the door behind you. The hall felt stifling as you walked out, your thoughts churning.

When you reached your room, Logan was there, waiting. The moment he saw your face, he stiffened. “What happened?” His voice was a low rumble, the concern clear.

“A week,” you whispered, barely able to meet his gaze. “I have a week before he marries me off to Clyde.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, and you could see the flash of anger in his eyes. He stepped closer, his hand moving to rest on your shoulder. “So that’s it, then? He’s just… throwing you to that bastard?”

You nodded, the words catching in your throat. “I don’t know what to do, Logan. I tried everything, but he won’t listen. He’s set on it.”

Logan’s hand slipped down, finding yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze, his rough fingers warm and grounding. You tightened your grip, the frustration and helplessness boiling inside you finally having somewhere to go.

“I’m supposed to just go along with it,” you muttered, bitterness seeping into your words. “Act like I’m thrilled to be Clyde’s obedient little wife. Like my life’s just… his to take.”

Logan’s gaze darkened. “It’s not. You know that. And anyone who tries to take it without your say? They got me to deal with.” His voice was low and dangerous, a promise just for you.

You looked up, searching his face, a flicker of hope stirring. “But what can we do, Logan? He’s not going to listen to me. And if I push back too hard… I don’t know what he’ll do.”

“Then let me get you out of here,” Logan said, leaning in closer. His voice softened, gentler now. “We can leave, right now if you want. Just say the word.”

Your heart twisted painfully, the temptation so fierce you almost said yes then and there. But reality clawed its way back, the weight of your father’s expectations and the tight grip he kept on every part of your life. Leaving would mean giving up everything—and, deep down, you weren’t sure you could risk it.

“What about my dad?” you whispered, feeling the weight of it pressing down again. “He’s… he’d see it as betrayal, Logan. And what if he goes after you?”

A flicker of something familiar crossed Logan’s face, a shadow from a life you couldn’t remember but that he clearly did. “Y/N, don’t worry about me,” he murmured. “Been through worse.” He squeezed your hand a little tighter, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a gesture so tender it nearly undid you. “And if he’s got a problem, then he can take it up with me.”

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the anger and fear give way just a bit. “You say that now, but you haven’t seen how he gets when people cross him. He’d never forgive me, Logan. He’d never forgive us.”

Logan’s hand moved to cup your face, his touch steadying you as his eyes met yours. “Then we don’t need his forgiveness. We get you out, and I keep you safe. Whatever comes after, we face it together.”

The fierce certainty in his voice sent a warmth flooding through you, your resolve hardening under his gaze. “But Clyde, the Romano’s… they won’t just let it go.”

A smirk tugged at Logan’s mouth, the edge of defiance clear. “Then they’ll learn what happens when they mess with you. Ain’t nobody’s right to take away your freedom, Y/N. Not your old man, not Clyde, not anyone.”

A beat of silence stretched between you, his hand still warm against your cheek. Your fingers tightened around his, and for a second, all the anger and dread faded, leaving just you and him in the quiet of the room.

“What about… us?” The words slipped out before you could stop them, and for a second, you held your breath, waiting for his reaction.

Logan’s eyes softened, his gaze never leaving yours. “What about us, darlin’?” He brushed a thumb along your cheek, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “You think I’d just leave you here to face this on your own?”

His words sent a rush of warmth through you, and before you knew it, you were leaning into him, his presence steady and unshakable. He let out a low sigh, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer, his other hand tracing gentle circles over your back.

“You’re all I’ve got in this,” you whispered, feeling the tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “I can’t lose you, too.”

“You won’t,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, his hold tightening just enough to reassure you. “Not now, not ever.”

You stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped up in his embrace, the weight of everything slipping away in his arms. But eventually, reality crept back in, and you pulled back, catching the flicker of resolve in his gaze.

“If we do this…” You paused, steadying yourself. “If we leave, we need a plan.”

Logan gave a small nod, his hand still resting on yours. “We’ll figure it out. Tonight, we’re just gettin’ you through this.”

It was a promise, simple and unbreakable, and for the first time in weeks, you felt a flicker of hope stirring deep inside you.

---

The rehearsal dinner was held in a private room at the church a few days later; a grand, echoing place with gilded walls and tall stained-glass windows that cast colored light over everything. Clyde, his parents, and your family were all gathered, discussing wedding arrangements like it was a done deal, each word chipping away at any illusion of control you had left.

Logan and the other bodyguards stood at a respectful distance, keeping watch. He tried to keep his gaze neutral, but his eyes lingered on you longer than necessary, catching every forced smile and stiff nod you gave.

As the minister went through the motions, you and Clyde practiced exchanging vows. You held his hands, repeating words that felt like a foreign language—lifeless, meaningless. Your eyes drifted toward Logan, and he gave you the barest nod, grounding you with that single, unspoken promise.

After the vows, Clyde leaned in close, his voice low and smug. “I think you’ll come to love our life together, Y/N. Just give it time.”

You forced a polite smile, biting back the words you wanted to say. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Logan clench his fists, his face darkening.

Finally, as the rehearsal ended and people began drifting off, you made your way to a quiet corner, needing a moment alone. Logan slipped over to you, his movements subtle as he came to stand beside you.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice softer now that it was just the two of you.

You shook your head, feeling that familiar knot of dread twist tighter. “Logan, I don’t think I can go through with this. But I don’t know if I can run, either. I’m…  I’m stuck.”

He took a deep breath, his gaze intense as he looked down at you. “What if I told you that you didn’t have to decide tonight?” he asked quietly. “That we could just… take it one day at a time. You don’t have to have all the answers right now.”

The tension in your shoulders eased a bit, and you met his eyes, finding strength in the certainty there. He wasn’t pushing you, wasn’t forcing anything on you. He was just… here, with you, in whatever way you needed.

“Okay,” you whispered, nodding slowly. “One day at a time.”

Logan gave a small, reassuring smile. “That’s all we need, darlin’.” His hand brushed your shoulder, lingering just a second longer than necessary before he stepped back.

---

The day of the wedding had arrived, and you were dolled up, your makeup and hair were perfect, and your wedding dress was heavy, constricting, and large.

Once the makeup artists and hair stylists left, you had fled to the bathroom in the bridal suite and were currently hunched over the toilet. You hadn’t thrown up—yet—but you could feel the nausea and anxiousness rising.

You braced yourself against the counter, taking deep breaths as you tried to calm the twisting feeling in your stomach. The dress felt like a vice, heavy and restrictive, pressing on every nerve, suffocating in a way that went beyond fabric and lace. You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping the queasiness would pass.

A knock at the door pulled you from the spinning in your head.

“Y/N?” Nancy’s soft, steady voice filtered through, full of that motherly concern you’d come to rely on all your life.

You took a steadying breath, swallowing hard before calling out, “Come in, Nancy.”

The door creaked open, and Nancy stepped inside, closing it quietly behind her. Her gaze immediately softened as she took in the look on your face, her expression a mix of sympathy and something else—resolve, maybe.

“Oh, cara mia,” she murmured, reaching out to place a hand on your shoulder. “You don’t look well. This whole business—it’s too much, isn’t it?”

You managed a shaky nod. “I… I don’t know if I can do this, Nancy. Every time I think about it, I just…” You trailed off, not sure how to put into words the suffocating dread that had settled over you.

She gave you a small, encouraging squeeze. “You know,” she said quietly, “there are other paths besides the one your father chose for you. And you don’t have to walk it alone.”

Your heart skipped at her words. “You… you’d help me? Even if I…?”

Nancy nodded, a spark of fierce protectiveness in her eyes. “Logan’s already got your things in his car,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “If you’re ready to go, he’s waiting.”

You blinked back tears before grabbing one of her hands, “y- you want me to go?”

“SÌ. Your father is a bastardo, breaking that promise him and your mother made.” She squeezed your hand, “Logan’s a good man. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He won’t let you down.”

You swallowed hard, Nancy’s words settling like a quiet fire in your chest. She was right. Your father had broken his promise, and you didn’t owe him your life just because he controlled every other part of it.

With a shaky exhale, you gave her a nod. “Alright… I’ll go.”

Nancy’s face softened, relief mingling with pride. “Good girl. Now, take this.” She pressed a small envelope into your hand. “Cash. Just in case.”

You looked down at it, blinking back tears. “Thank you, Nancy. For everything.”

She pulled you into a hug, her hand stroking your back gently. “Go, cara mia. Go live your life.” She pulled back, eyes glinting with fierce determination. “And don’t look back.”

You nodded, holding onto that resolve as you slipped out of the bathroom and made your way down the hall, heart pounding. Every step felt heavier, weighed down by fear and the voice in the back of your mind that told you this was dangerous, reckless. But when you stepped outside and saw Logan waiting by his car, the weight lifted.

He looked up, his gaze intense but soft, like he’d been waiting for this moment just as long as you had. “You ready?”

You hesitated, just for a moment, before giving him a small nod. “Yeah. Let’s get out of here.”

Logan opened the passenger door for you, helping you in, his hand lingering on yours for a second longer than necessary. He closed the door, then climbed into the driver’s seat, starting the engine with a low rumble that matched the pulse pounding in your ears.

As he pulled out of the church’s parking lot, the weight of the decision hit you again. You were leaving everything behind—the security, the expectations, the people who’d shaped your entire life. But with each passing second, the fear melted away, replaced by a strange, liberating sense of excitement.

Logan glanced over, noticing the small smile tugging at your lips. “You don’t look so panicked now.”

You shook your head, unable to hide your grin. “I’m not. Not with you here.”

He gave a soft chuckle, that familiar warmth in his gaze. “Good. Because we’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”

You settled back, feeling more at ease than you’d felt in months. There was silence for a moment, comfortable and charged, before you turned to him, voice barely a whisper.

“Where are we going?”

Logan smirked. “Anywhere but here.”

You laughed softly, relaxing into your seat. The road stretched ahead, open and endless, and for the first time in a long while, the future felt like something you could shape.

logan is 141 years old and reader is around 23-25 years old

what!? is that a happy ending? who would've thought... next up, is origins!

[sweettoothy]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃𝐒 𝐄𝐍𝐃

╰ SHOW ﹕ ARCANE !

︵ WARNING(S) ﹕╰ swearing ⸝ violence ﹕ sex

︵ relationship ﹕ Vi x fem!fragile!reader x Caitlyn

NOTE: short chapter ? (If you guys have any questions head to my inbox ^^, and I all know we wanna see a sex scene where they’re bumping against each others clits, and scissoring, It’ll happen soon trust me)

⟣・S2・WATCH IT ALL BURN︰

YOU WALK INTO a pretty battered up place, a hand on your hip as you walked next to caitlyn. you were still a little injured from yesterday but that’s okay, the green smoke was clouding your goggles that were attached to your face, causing a frustrated sigh to escape you. the rest of the enforcers including you, were searching for jinx after the incident that had happened.

It wasn’t just an incident, it was a pretty big one, cause caitlyn’s mom got caught in the crossfire. least to say it wasn’t surprising that caitlyn was on the verge of losing it, but she was holding her composure the best she could.

Not to mention you getting hurt was one of her biggest regrets, she wish she could’ve protected you more— but things happen.

Vi checks over her shoulder from time to time to make sure you’re alright, she doesn’t want you getting caught in her sister’s bullshit. It was pretty scary being here, if you were truthful.

You never met jinx but you’ve heard so many good and bad things about her. Honestly, none of it seemed to make sense anymore. She just sounded like a broken person overall, someone who just needed help.

Jinx was hiding somewhere near the ceiling, she could see you, caitlyn, and vi. her pink colored eyes landing on you as she raised her gun slightly, she wondered what it would be like if vi were to lose the most precious thing she’s had in her life— due to being in jail for long 7 years.

You and caitlyn really switched vi’s life around, even though right now she didn’t like having to be an enforcer. But if it was to stop her sister? It was the right thing to do, it has to stop at some point.

Jinx hand starts to shake as tears prick her eyes, she leans back and hides behind a wall— not bothering to take the shot.

She’s just hated what her sisters become, so lovestruck on you and out to get her— it wasn’t fair.

You flinch slightly when music suddenly comes on, making you step back quickly.

“It’s okay, (name).” Maddie tells you, placing her hand on your shoulder. “No one’s there.”

Caitlyn’s eye twitched when she saw the way maddie had placed her hand on your shoulder, her lips upturning into a frown as she grew a little annoyed— maddie always used the sweet act with you just to get close.

And it pissed off vi and cait.

YOU HAD TO take a minute to catch your breath as you leaned against the wall, collapsing to your knees as you lift up your top underneath your shirt, the gash still there from the time you had gotten injured after the explosion. Vi and caitlyn make their way towards you, their expressions full of worry and concern.

“Are you okay, love?” Caitlyn asks as she kneels to your level, the height difference between you three very visible. Cait being taller than vi and vi being taller than you. that was so cute.

Vi tucks some of your hair behind your ear as she rubs her thumb over your cheek, “we can take you back. you didn’t have to come with us.” she tells you, leaning forward to kiss your forehead.

“No, no,” You reply. “I want to help. I’m tired of lying in bed doing nothing.”

Caitlyn knows it wasn’t the best time to be taking at look at your boobs but they were so round and pretty she just wanted to put her hand over it and squeeze them in her possession. If only her thoughts weren’t so vivid right now, she probably would be dead set on getting revenge on jinx which—of course—she still is.

Vi reaches to grab the curvy part of your waist, her hand easily squeezing there gently. “Okay. but if you feel sick let us know.”

“I’m okay, guys, seriously.” You tell them, “I can handle myself.”

“If you’re sure.” Caitlyn replies, trying to keep her dirty thoughts away.

If they were out of sight, they’d be out of mind. right?

Wrong!

Vi couldn’t help but take a look at your chest again, oh this felt so wrong and disrespectful but it felt so good at the same time. when she first met you, she already knew she would take a liking to you.

The thought of being between your legs right now and wanting to hear you whimper was not what she had in mind but she wanted it to happen, she craved it to happen.

Standing up you dust yourself off, “okay-- let’s go get the others. I think I know a route.”

“After you sweets.” Vi replies softly, dusting herself off.

Caitlyn stood up as well, vi taking a long look at your ass before quickly adverting her gaze.

They do not know how long they’re gonna last.

END OF CHAPTER TWO

[kinzhae]

"Unrequited Love"

Reader has been in love with Satoru Gojo for years, but Satoru is oblivious and more focused on someone else. As reader grows closer to Suguru Geto, Satoru becomes jealous and realizes his feelings for reader. Eventually, Satoru confesses his love.

Gojo x Reader, High-school au!, more of a oc?, angst? , comfort, fluff, special ending, unrequited love, jealous gojo.

"Whats going on between you and suguru?"

The classroom was noisy, filled with the dull hum of chatter and the occasional clatter of a pencil hitting the floor. You sat hunched over your notebook, diligently jotting down notes as the teacher droned on about formulas that seemed to stretch endlessly across the blackboard. Next to you, Satoru lounged in his chair, barely paying attention.

But he wasn’t looking at the equations.

You didn’t have to glance up to know where his gaze was locked—it was the same place it had been for weeks now. You could feel it, the way his attention was entirely absorbed by her. The girl across the room with the soft laugh and the fluttering lashes, the one who had unknowingly—or maybe knowingly—captured his heart.

“She’s so perfect…” Satoru muttered, his voice barely audible but weighted with adoration.

Your pen faltered mid-sentence. You swallowed hard, gripping the pen tighter as you forced yourself to keep writing. His words echoed in your head, their impact much sharper than they should’ve been.

Your best friend. Seven years of laughter, secrets, and late-night conversations—and now, this.

You risked a glance at him. Satoru’s lips were curved into a smile, one so uncharacteristically soft that it sent a pang through your chest. He looked at her like she was the only person in the room. She must have felt his stare because she turned slightly, catching his eye and giggling before quickly looking away.

They were a perfect match, weren’t they? She was sweet, charming, and undeniably pretty. And you? You were just...there.

People joked about you and Satoru all the time, shipping the two of you as if it was some kind of game. "You two are inseparable," they’d say, laughter bubbling up like they were stating the obvious. But every time, Satoru would brush it off with a smirk and a wave of his hand.

“As if,” he’d scoff. “We’re just friends.”

Just friends.

You pressed the pen harder against the page, the ink bleeding into a dark spot as the words blurred in front of you. It wasn’t fair, how much space he occupied in your heart when yours barely registered in his.

“Hey,” Satoru whispered, nudging you lightly with his elbow.

You blinked and turned to him, hoping your expression didn’t betray the ache in your chest. “What?”

“Do you think she likes me back?” he asked, his voice tinged with excitement. His eyes sparkled with the kind of enthusiasm he used to reserve for teasing you about your messy handwriting or begging you to share your snacks.

You hesitated, the lump in your throat growing. She already liked him. It was obvious to everyone, even to you, who had tried so hard not to see it. The stolen glances, the way she laughed just a little too hard at his jokes, the way she seemed to linger around him whenever she got the chance.

“Probably,” you muttered, barely audible. You stared at the scribbled notes in front of you, your vision blurring slightly.

Satoru’s grin widened, and he leaned back in his chair with an almost triumphant look. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he said, his voice buzzing with confidence. “I mean, who wouldn’t like me, right?”

You forced a small laugh, the sound hollow to your own ears. “Right,” you murmured, keeping your eyes glued to the page.

He didn’t notice, of course. He was too busy stealing glances at her again, his mind already worlds away from the person sitting next to him.

The rest of the class dragged on, every second feeling heavier than the last. You kept your head down, pouring all your focus into your notes as if they could distract you from the weight in your chest. But it didn’t help. Not when you could still hear the faint sighs of admiration slipping from Satoru’s lips, not when you could still feel his excitement radiating next to you.

When the bell finally rang, you shoved your notebook into your bag with shaky hands, eager to escape. “I’ll see you later,” you said quickly, not waiting for his response as you stood and made your way toward the door.

“Wait—hey, where are you going?” Satoru called after you, but you didn’t turn around. You couldn’t.

You weaved through the crowded hallway, your head down as you tried to push the thoughts away. It wasn’t the first time you’d felt invisible next to him, and it wouldn’t be the last. But knowing that didn’t make it hurt any less.

By the time you reached the quiet corner of the library, your usual hideout, the tears were already threatening to spill. You slumped into a chair and buried your face in your hands, letting out a shaky breath.

It wasn’t fair. Loving Satoru wasn’t supposed to feel this way.

You thought back to all the times he’d been there for you, his playful grin and easygoing attitude lighting up even your darkest days. You’d fallen for him so gradually, so deeply, that you hadn’t even realized it until it was too late. And now, you were stuck watching him fall for someone else—someone who could give him the kind of happiness you never could.

The thought sent a fresh wave of pain through you, but you swallowed it down. You couldn’t cry here. Not now.

Taking a deep breath, you wiped your eyes and opened your notebook again. If Satoru was happy, that should’ve been enough for you. It had to be.

But as you sat there, staring blankly at the page, a small, bitter part of you wondered if it ever really would be.

The quiet of the library was broken by the sound of a chair scraping across the floor. You glanced up, startled, and found none other than Suguru Geto sitting across from you. His usual calm demeanor was intact, but his sharp eyes were fixed on you with an intensity that made you squirm.

“Skipping out on Gojo?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. His voice was low, almost teasing, but there was a hint of genuine curiosity behind it.

You hesitated, unsure of how much to say. Suguru was one of the few people who knew Satoru as well as you did, maybe even better. If anyone could read between the lines, it was him.

“Not skipping,” you mumbled, looking back down at your notebook. “Just needed some air.”

Suguru raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Air? In a library?” He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”

Your pen faltered again, and you let out a quiet sigh, the weight of the day pressing down on you. “Why are you here, Suguru?”

“To check on you,” he said simply.

You blinked, surprised. “Why?”

“Because you looked like you were about to fall apart back there,” Suguru replied, his voice softer now. “And because I’m not blind. I’ve seen the way you look at Satoru.”

Your heart sank, the words hitting harder than you expected. You opened your mouth to deny it, but Suguru cut you off with a small wave of his hand.

“Don’t bother,” he said. “It’s written all over your face. Has been for a while.”

You looked away, the embarrassment and pain swirling together in your chest. “It doesn’t matter,” you muttered. “He’s in love with her.”

Suguru didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he sat back in his chair, studying you with a thoughtful expression. “You know, for someone as sharp as you, you’re pretty stupid sometimes.”

You frowned, taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“Listen,” Suguru said, leaning forward again. “I’m not saying Satoru doesn’t have a thing for her. He clearly does. But do you honestly think he’d brush you off if you told him how you felt?”

The question caught you off guard, and you stared at him, speechless.

Suguru sighed, shaking his head. “You’re his best friend, you idiot. He cares about you more than you realize. Maybe even more than he realizes.”

A bitter laugh escaped you before you could stop it. “That’s the problem. I’m just his best friend. Nothing more.”

Suguru’s expression softened, and he gave you a small, almost sad smile. “Maybe. Or maybe you’re too scared to find out if that’s really true.”

His words hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken possibilities. You wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, but deep down, a part of you wondered if he was right.

Before you could respond, Suguru stood, pushing his chair back with an easy grace. “Think about it,” he said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “And if you need someone to talk to, you know where to find me.”

You watched him leave, your heart still racing from the conversation. Suguru had always been perceptive, but you hadn’t expected him to see through you so easily.

As you sat there, the notebook in front of you forgotten, his words echoed in your mind.

The days following your conversation with Suguru were...different. It wasn’t a conscious decision, but you found yourself gravitating toward him more often. Maybe it was the way he seemed to genuinely understand you, or maybe it was the subtle kindness in his words, the quiet reassurance that you weren’t as invisible as you felt.

Suguru didn’t pry after that day in the library, but he didn’t pull away either. Instead, he started seeking you out during lunch, sitting next to you in class when Satoru was distracted, and walking you halfway home with casual ease.

At first, it felt strange—foreign even—to have someone’s attention focused on you so completely. But as time went on, you began to relax around him. Suguru’s presence was calming, a stark contrast to Satoru’s endless energy.

You weren’t the only one who noticed the shift.

Satoru was glaring. Not at you, not even at Suguru directly, but it was clear as day. His usual cocky grin was replaced by a tight-lipped expression every time he caught you and Suguru talking.

“Yo,” Satoru called one afternoon, sliding into the seat beside you in class with an exaggerated stretch. “What’s up with you and Suguru lately?”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden question. “What do you mean?”

Satoru tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You’ve been hanging out with him a lot. More than usual.”

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “We’re just talking. He’s been helping me out with some stuff.”

“Stuff?” Satoru echoed, his tone sharp. “Since when do you need him for stuff?”

Your chest tightened at the accusation in his voice, and you frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean? Suguru’s been a good friend.”

Satoru opened his mouth to retort but stopped himself, his jaw clenching as he looked away. “Nothing. Forget it.”

The awkward tension settled between you, a stark contrast to the easy banter you used to share.

It wasn’t long before Satoru’s irritation bubbled over.

One afternoon, as you and Suguru walked out of the classroom together, Satoru intercepted you in the hallway.

“Hey,” he said, his tone light but forced. His eyes flicked to Suguru, and the tightness in his smile was unmistakable. “Mind if I steal my best friend for a sec?”

Suguru glanced at you, a knowing look passing between you two, before nodding. “Sure. I’ll catch you later.”

The moment Suguru walked away, Satoru turned to you, his expression unreadable.

“What’s going on with you two?” he asked, his voice low.

“What do you mean?” you replied, folding your arms defensively.

“You know exactly what I mean,” Satoru shot back. “Since when are you and Suguru so...close?”

You felt a flicker of frustration. “Why does it matter?”

“It matters because—” He stopped abruptly, running a hand through his hair. “It just does, okay?”

“Why?” you pressed, your voice trembling slightly. “Because you don’t want me to be close to someone else? Because you’re afraid someone might actually notice me?”

Satoru flinched, as if your words had struck a nerve.

“It’s not like that,” he said, his tone softer now. “I just... I don’t want to lose you.”

The vulnerability in his voice caught you off guard, and you stared at him, your frustration slowly giving way to confusion.

“Lose me?” you echoed.

Satoru looked away, his usual confidence nowhere to be found. “You’re my best friend. I don’t know what I’d do if things changed between us.”

For a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, and you couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to them than he was letting on.

“Things are already changing,” you said quietly. “You just didn’t notice until now.”

Satoru’s gaze snapped back to yours, his blue eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite place. Fear? Regret? Maybe even jealousy?

Whatever it was, it made your heart ache all over again.

“Satoru…” You hesitated, unsure of what to say. “I’m not going anywhere. But you don’t get to act like this just because someone else is paying attention to me.”

His expression wavered, and for the first time in a long while, Satoru Gojo didn’t have a witty comeback. Instead, he just stood there, his silence speaking volumes.

And for the first time, you realized that maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t as indifferent as he seemed.

Time passed, and your relationship with Suguru settled into something steady and comforting. He became your anchor, a quiet presence who never pried too deeply but always seemed to know when you needed someone to talk to—or when you just needed silence.

But the more time you spent with Suguru, the more obvious it became that whatever existed between you two was purely platonic. Suguru didn’t treat you any differently than he treated others he cared about. His kindness wasn’t exclusive; it was simply who he was. And, honestly, that was okay.

What wasn’t okay, however, was the growing tension between you and Satoru.

Every interaction with him felt charged, as though there were unspoken words hanging in the air, threatening to break free. He was quieter around you lately, more subdued than you’d ever seen him. It wasn’t the Satoru you knew, the one who filled every room he entered with a boundless energy that couldn’t be ignored.

And yet, he never stopped looking at you.

You caught him staring more often than not, his usually bright eyes clouded with something you couldn’t quite decipher. You tried to ignore it, brushing off the way your stomach twisted every time you felt his gaze linger.

Until one day, he couldn’t hold it in any longer.

---

It was late after school, the sun dipping low in the sky as you packed your things. Most of the students had already left, but you’d stayed behind to finish an assignment. Suguru had offered to walk you home, but you insisted you’d be fine.

As you slung your bag over your shoulder and stepped into the empty hallway, you nearly bumped into Satoru.

“Whoa,” he said, his hands shooting out to steady you. “Careful.”

“Satoru?” you blinked, surprised. “What are you still doing here?”

“I was waiting for you,” he admitted, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.

Your brow furrowed. “Waiting for me? Why?”

He hesitated, his hands slipping into his pockets as he looked away. “Can we talk?”

The weight in his voice made your heart skip a beat. You nodded slowly. “Okay.”

He led you outside, where the cool evening air wrapped around you both. You walked a short distance to a bench under a tree, the silence between you stretching uncomfortably.

Finally, Satoru broke it. “I don’t know how to say this,” he began, his usual confidence nowhere to be found. “But I can’t keep it in anymore.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding. “Satoru, what’s going on?”

He took a deep breath, his blue eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your chest tighten. “I’ve been an idiot,” he said. “I’ve been so focused on other things—on other people—that I didn’t realize what was right in front of me.”

Your breath hitched, and you opened your mouth to speak, but he continued before you could.

“I didn’t realize how much you mean to me,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “And I’m scared I’ve already screwed it up. But I need you to know—” He paused, his hands clenching into fists. “I love you.”

The words hung in the air, raw and unfiltered. You stared at him, stunned, your mind racing.

Satoru looked down, his usual bravado completely gone. “I know I don’t deserve it, not after how I’ve acted. But I had to tell you. I couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine.”

For a moment, you were silent, the weight of his confession settling over you.

“Satoru…” you finally said, your voice soft. “Why now?”

He looked up, his eyes filled with something you’d never seen before—vulnerability. “Because I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you,” he said. “Not to Suguru, not to anyone. I was jealous, and it made me realize how much I care about you. Not as a friend. As...as something more.”

Your heart swelled and ached all at once, the emotions swirling within you almost too much to bear.

“Satoru,” you said again, your voice trembling. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that.”

His eyes widened, hope flickering in their depths. “You mean…?”

“I love you too,” you admitted, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “I have for a long time.”

Relief and joy washed over his face, and he let out a shaky laugh. “You have no idea how happy that makes me,” he said, reaching for your hands.

You let him take them, his touch warm and familiar. And in that moment, it felt like all the pain, all the waiting, had been worth it.

Satoru Gojo wasn’t perfect—far from it. But as he looked at you with more love than you’d ever thought possible, you realized that he was everything you’d ever wanted.

Special:

The warmth of Suguru’s laughter filled the quiet park, the three of you lounging on a patch of soft grass under the shade of a massive tree. It had become a tradition to meet here after long days at school, a space where you could escape the world and just exist together.

Satoru was sprawled out on his back, one arm shielding his eyes from the sun, while Suguru sat cross-legged, his usual calm and collected demeanor on full display. You were sandwiched between them, leaning back on your hands, the breeze tugging gently at your hair.

“I don’t get it,” Satoru grumbled, sitting up abruptly and running a hand through his messy white hair. “Why does he always get the compliments?” He jabbed a finger at Suguru, who raised an eyebrow in mock amusement.

“Maybe because I’m more charming,” Suguru replied, his voice smooth and teasing.

“Charming, my ass,” Satoru scoffed. “You’re just taller. People fall for that whole ‘mysterious guy’ thing you’ve got going on.”

“Ah, so you’re admitting they don’t fall for you?” Suguru quipped, smirking.

You couldn’t help but laugh at their bickering. It was always like this—playful jabs, exaggerated arguments, and you caught somewhere in the middle. But today, there was an ease in the air that made it all feel special, like the world had melted away, leaving just the three of you.

“Okay, okay,” you interrupted, raising your hands to placate them. “Let’s not start a war over who’s more likable.”

“Too late,” Satoru said, his blue eyes gleaming mischievously as he nudged you with his shoulder. “You’re the tiebreaker. Who’s better—me or Suguru?”

Suguru chuckled softly, leaning back on his elbows. “Careful, Y/N. Your answer might just end a friendship.”

You rolled your eyes, used to their antics by now. “I’m not picking between you two,” you said firmly, though the smile on your face betrayed your amusement. “You’re both equally annoying.”

Satoru gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “Annoying? Me? Impossible.”

Suguru shook his head, his grin widening. “She’s not wrong, though.”

Before Satoru could retort, you added, “But you’re also my favorite people in the world. So stop fishing for compliments.”

The sincerity in your voice seemed to catch them both off guard. Satoru’s teasing expression softened, and Suguru gave you a small, genuine smile.

“Careful,” Suguru said after a moment, his tone light but his gaze warm. “You’re going to make us emotional.”

“Too late,” Satoru said, leaning over to sling an arm around your shoulders. “Y/N’s stuck with us for life, whether she likes it or not.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t shrug him off. “Like I could get rid of you two even if I tried.”

The three of you sat there for a while longer, the teasing giving way to a comfortable silence. The setting sun cast a golden glow over the park, and you found yourself wishing that moments like this could last forever.

Because no matter how chaotic or complicated life got, being with Suguru and Satoru always felt like home.

[focusonkayjay]

between the ride and the roses (1)

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: biker/ motorcycle shop owner! jungkook x flower shop owner! reader, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, slow burn, angst, smut, fluff

Word count: 2.8k

Series summary: There's an insane turn of events when your calm and peaceful life is intruded by Jungkook, a biker boy who sets up his loud business right next to your own. Your paths cross under unlikely circumstances, starting with a clash of personalities but gradually you find yourself establishing a deeper connection with the annoyingly attractive biker jerk. You both have no idea what's in store for you guys as you try your best to put up with each other.

Chapter Warnings: jungkook is kind of an annoying jerk in the beginning, but we still love him. as of now, i have no warnings, but i will mention them when necessary as the series goes on.

A/N: hello, welcome to my very first series. i've been reading fics for as long as i can remember and i've always wanted to start a blog of my own. please read through this and let me know if this story is worth continuing <3

my blog is still "work in progress" and i have many ideas and plans that i wanna give life to, so please stay tuned. your opinions, constructive criticism and suggestions are always welcome.

thank you.

part 1: throttle and stem

The quiet hum of the early morning filled your flower shop as you stood by your workbench, your hands deftly arranging a vibrant bouquet of stargazer lilies, queen of the night blossoms, and delicate sprigs of baby’s breath. As you tied off the bouquet with a soft ribbon, you pulled your phone from the pocket of your apron, glancing at the screen.

"8:09 am."

You sighed to yourself, shaking off the early morning grogginess that still clung to your mind. The air around you was sweet with the mingling fragrances of the flowers, an invisible balm for the weariness you hadn’t quite shaken.

The shop was your sanctuary. Its walls were adorned with climbing vines that had been lovingly nurtured over the years, and its shelves were lined with terracotta pots of miniature bonsais, fiddle-leaf figs, and succulent terrariums. It wasn’t just a workspace… it was your rhythm, your peace. Here, surrounded by blooms and greenery, the world felt like it moved just a little slower.

You turned towards the bay window, where golden sunlight poured in, illuminating an assortment of hydrangeas and snapdragons on display. It was the kind of morning you cherished… peaceful, predictable, and entirely yours to savor.

Shifting closer to the window, your gaze naturally drifted to the storefront beside yours. The faded "For Rent" sign, hanging crookedly in the glass, caught your eye like always. Ever since Mrs. Lee shut down her cozy little bakery and moved away with her husband, the space had remained lifeless, the once-welcoming aroma of fresh pastries replaced by silence and dust.

You couldn’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia as you remembered the way the scent of freshly baked bread and cinnamon rolls used to drift into your shop every morning. Now, the vacant building had become an eyesore you had grown used to ignoring… a dull, empty reminder of what had once been.

Turning away from the window, you wandered through your shop, watering the orchids in their clay pots and adjusting the arrangement of lavender sprigs by the counter. You opened sharp at 9, but these quiet moments before customers arrived were your favorite. It was a time to bask in the stillness, to let the beauty of your flowers fill every corner of your mind.

You settled back at your workbench, pulling another bundle of roses and eucalyptus stems from the cooler. Your hands moved automatically as your thoughts wandered, appreciating the rare silence that surrounded you. Most of the shops on your street wouldn’t open for another hour, leaving the block in a peaceful lull.

The quiet wasn’t just comforting, it was necessary. It was the space where you could breathe, think, and just be.

And just when you were basking in the silence you oh so appreciated, your train of thoughts are harshly interrupted by a sharp growl that tore through the air, so ridiculously loud that it startled you into dropping the shears you were grasping in your hand. The noise grew louder, rising and falling with an almost deafening rhythm. Engines revved outside, followed by the sharp, repetitive beeping of trucks reversing.

Frowning, you stepped towards the window, peeking out from behind a display of yellow roses. Two enormous moving trucks had pulled up in front of the vacant building, their engines rumbling as a group of workers began hauling furniture and equipment onto the sidewalk.

Your chest tightened as you took in the scene: huge wooden crates, motorcycle frames, and oversized toolboxes haphazardly scattered across the pavement.

The stillness you were treasuring just a minute ago was shattered in less than a second by the disgusting sound of chaos arriving at your doorstep.

Still confused, your eyes suddenly fall on the huge stack of oversized toolboxes placed on the sidewalk, partially blocking the entrance to your shop. You scoffed, your mind unable to wrap itself around this bizarre situation.

Before you could fully process what exactly was happening, your feet carried you towards the front door of your shop and you stepped outside, breathing heavily. “Hey!” you called out, trying to dodge around a burly man carrying a huge box labeled FRAGILE. “What’s going on here?” you question, still looking around, trying to take in the state of your surroundings.

The closest person to you wasn’t a mover or a worker. You could easily conclude that just by the way he was leaning lazily against one of the trucks, scrolling through his phone as if oblivious to the commotion. A thick leather jacket, adorned with intricate patches and scratches that told untold stories rested on his left shoulder.

Tattoos crawled up his toned forearms, disappearing under the ripped sleeves of his black t-shirt. A loose silver chain around his neck glinted as he shifted his weight, and when he glanced up, his dark eyes locked onto yours with a mix of curiosity and disinterest.

"What's going on here?" you ask again, this time trying to sound as civil as possible. Your fists are balled and you regulate your breathing as you observe the man in front of you. “Moving in.” he simply answers, his voice smooth but laced with indifference. “What’s it look like to you?”

You blinked, momentarily thrown by his audacity. You're generally a calm person, that is, until someone provokes you in the weirdest ways. “It looks like you’re turning the sidewalk into an obstacle course.” you snapped, unable to remain civil like you had previously planned. “My customers won’t be able to get into my shop!” you added.

His lips curved into a faint smirk, the kind that instantly made you think, this was someone you would never get along with. “What customers?” He chuckles, glancing theatrically up and down the empty street before meeting your gaze again.

Your blood boiled as you heard him mock you. “Excuse me?” He stepped closer, the faint scent of leather and motor oil lingering in the air between you. “Relax, sweetheart. We’ll keep it tidy. Don’t get your roses in a twist.” he says, eyeing a bouquet he was able to spot through the window of your store.

You bristled. “First of all, don’t call me sweetheart. Second, those are lilies, NOT roses.” You jabbed a finger towards the bouquet in the window. “And third, I don’t need your promises. I need you to move your chaos somewhere else and not disturb my business!”

He tilted his head, clearly amused. “You really care about those flowers, huh?” he asks. You can easily tell he thinks nothing of your business. “Of course, I do! Unlike some people, I actually respect my work and the space around me.” you argue.

The man rolls his eyes, and that only drives you more mad. His nonchalance and his lack of empathy itches your brain the wrong way. “Whatever.” he casually shrugs, turning away as he hears one of the men call out to him. “Jeon, where do you want the bike stand?”

Jeon? You realize that's probably his surname. “Right here.” he replies, pointing towards the storefront. Without sparing you another glance, he strode over, his gait relaxed and confident, as if he hadn’t just ruined your morning.

You stood there, fists clenched, watching as the chaos unfolded further. The reality hit you hard—the quiet, vacant space beside your shop was no longer empty. It was now home to this infuriating, leather-clad biker who had just walked into your life like a hurricane. And somehow, you knew, your peaceful little flower shop would never be the same.

//

The rest of the morning passes in a haze of irritation. Every time you tried to return to your flowers and reclaim the peace you once cherished, another burst of loud noise would jolt you out of focus. The metallic clang of tools, the rumble of engines being tested, and the shouts of movers unloading endless boxes were relentless. Even the cheerful chime of your shop door opening, signaling the arrival of your first customer, couldn’t lift your mood entirely.

“Busy morning out there, huh?” Mrs. Park, one of your long-time regulars, quipped as she admired a bouquet of tulips on display. You forced a smile, standing up from your workbench. “You could say that.” you answered, looking back at the window that gave you a view of the happenings next door

She chuckled, picking up a small pot of baby succulents. “Looks like someone’s finally opening a business there. Hopefully, it’s something good and the owner is nice. I miss Mrs. Lee’s bakery, though. Her strawberry tarts were divine.” she says, walking towards the counter with the pot she had just picked out.

You bit back a sarcastic retort about how this newcomer was something way from from “nice” and nodded instead. “I miss her too. But yeah, we'll just have to wait and see what the new business is going to be about.” you sigh.

//

By the time the clock struck noon, the chaos outside had died down enough for you to risk stepping out again. Boxes had been cleared from the sidewalk, though a few crates still lingered near the entrance of your shop, their presence a glaring reminder of the morning’s disruption.

You spotted him immediately—Jeon. He was crouched next to a sleek black motorcycle, his hands busy adjusting something near the engine. A few workers milled around, chatting, but this man seemed entirely absorbed in his work.

You purse your lips and stepped back on the sidewalk to get a better view of the building. The sign "Throttle and Torque" hung up high, right beside yours that read "Garden's Grace."

You look back down at the man, who still seemed so immersed in whatever the heck he was doing. Against your better judgment, you marched over, fueled by lingering frustration. “Excuse me.” you say, waiting for him to respond. He didn’t look up. You stepped closer, crossing your arms as you tapped your foot impatiently. “Excuse me!” you snap.

This time, he glanced up, wiping his hands on a rag before standing to his full height. Up close, he was even more infuriatingly confident, his dark eyes glinting which barely concealed any sort amusement. “What?” he asked, completely unbothered. You gestured towards the lingering crates. “Your stuff is still blocking part of my entrance.” you reply, trying your level best to keep your voice at a respectable volume.

He glanced at the crates, then back at you. “Looks fine to me.” he shrugs. “It’s not fine. It’s in the way.” you argue, fighting the urge to just run and kick the crates away from your entrance. His lips curved into that maddening smirk again. “You’re really particular about your space, huh?”

“Unlike some people…” you pause, taking a deep breath “I respect boundaries.” you state. He chuckled, the sound low and infuriatingly casual. “Alright, alright. I’ll move them. Don’t blow a gasket, sweetheart.” he says causing you to roll your eyes at the nickname but you bite your tongue, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing you lose your temper again.

As he turned to call out to one of the workers, you noticed something—a small, intricately designed patch sewn onto the back of his leather jacket that he was wearing. It depicted a phoenix rising from flames, the design bold and vibrant against the black leather.

Shaking yourself out of the observation you had just made, you look around and finally question him. "What exactly is your business?"

He doesn't answer, still busy with the worker as he guides him on where to place the crates. But as you stood there by yourself, you feel the realization dawning on you as you took in the scattered parts and tools. "Is this a motorcycle shop?" you ask again. He glanced over his shoulder, finally nodding. “Custom bikes. Repairs. The works.” he answers, his tone still the same, low and unbothered.

Of course. The universe had gifted you a neighbor who was the exact opposite of everything your flower shop represented—loud, chaotic, and disruptive. “Just great.” you muttered under your breath, feeling yourself get a headache as you imagine the wild things that you will have to go through with a store like this right beside yours.

“Something to say?” he teases, as he looks at you, finally taking in your appearance. His eyes roamed over you for a moment, his gaze lingering on the effortless beauty you carried. There was something captivating about the way your long, dark hair framed your face, the sunlight catching in the waves and adding a soft halo around you. The earthy tones of your apron only highlighted the warm glow of your skin, and the faint blush on your cheeks gave you an endearing, almost ethereal charm.

You don't say anything and just stand there, trying your best to stay calm. "I'm Jungkook, by the way." you hear him say. You bite the inside of your cheek, not wanting to introduce yourself to him, but you think that might be a little immature. "Y/n." you simply say, avoiding his eyes.

"Didn’t realize such a pretty flower came with so many thorns." he comments, his smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he crosses his arms, observing the way you tried so hard not to throw hands. You rolled your eyes, brushing off his comment. “Didn’t realize bikers had this much trouble respecting other people’s businesses.” you retorted, matching his tone.

Jungkook chuckled, clearly unfazed. He leaned against the wall beside him, his dark eyes gleaming with something between amusement and challenge. “Well, sweetheart, I guess we’re stuck with each other now. Might as well get used to it.” he says, almost like he's challenging you.

You huffed at that stupid nickname again, your fingers tightening around the hem of your apron. “I would REALLY appreciate if you wouldn't call me sweetheart." you pause, slightly stepping forward. "And for the record, being neighbors doesn’t mean I have to put up with your... chaos. My shop values tranquility, something your—” you pause again to gesture towards the motorcycles and tools scattered around, “whole vibe seems to be allergic to.”

Jungkook tilts his head, pretending to consider your words, though the teasing smirk never leaves his features. “Tranquility, huh?” he echoes, his tone mocking. “I can see why you’d like things quiet in there.” His eyes flicked toward your shop window, where the vibrant display of flowers created a stark contrast to the metal and oil-laden aesthetic of his business.

You cross your arms, as you firmly stand your ground. “Exactly. Garden’s Grace is a place where people come to find peace and beauty. Something your Throttle and Torque doesn’t exactly scream.”

He snorted, looking genuinely amused for the first time. “Peace and beauty. Cute. I’m more about the adrenaline and grit side of life. Opposites, huh?” You frowned, refusing to let him get under your skin. “Maybe opposites, but that doesn’t mean you have to make my life miserable.” you said, glancing pointedly at the workers still unloading equipment nearby.

“Alright, alright.” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll make sure my guys clear out your entrance. We wouldn’t want to scare off all those peace-seekers now, would we?” he says, in a tone that irks something ugly inside of you.

You narrowed your eyes, trying to come up with something but you know it would be of no use to argue with someone like him. “Thank you.” you breathe out curtly, turning on your heel to head back to your shop, not wanting to deal with him anymore because you clearly had a business to get back to.

“By the way…” he suddenly calls out, stopping you in your tracks. You turn over your shoulder with a brow raised. “Those flowers in your display…” he said, jerking his chin towards the window. “Whatever they're called... they’re pretty. You’ve got an eye for detail and beauty.” he admits.

The unexpected compliment threw you off guard, and for a moment, you couldn’t find a snappy comeback. Instead, you muttered a soft, “Thanks.” before disappearing into the safety of your shop.

Inside, your heart thudded a little harder than you cared to admit. You shook your head, pushing the moment aside. “Nope, not falling for that.” you mumble to yourself, bringing your focus back on the vibrant bouquet in your hands.

From the corner of your eye, you glanced out the window one last time. Jungkook had gone back to his motorcycle, but there was a faint smile on his face now, one that didn’t carry the same teasing edge as before.

You sighed and shook your head, determined to forget the way it made your stomach flutter. "It’s just day one..." you reminded yourself. "I can survive this." you affirm.

Little did you know, this was only the beginning of a storm neither of you saw coming.

part 2 ->

series masterlist

[caelivir]

hold me down | oliver aiku

synopsis. oliver’s always been different with you. he doesn’t figure out why until tonight.

pairing. oliver aiku x fem!reader | wc. 1.8k | genres. established relationship + fluff + pet names (princess & doll) | warnings. only a little suggestive cuz is it really an aiku fic if it isn’t?

notes. ooc oli because he would never in a million years do this but im just a girl and i have dreams okay. also a little late on this but thank you for 500 followers. i love love love you guys so much.

when oliver comes home, he’s burnt out. the combination of a workout with the athletic trainers and an afternoon practice back-to-back had drained the life out of his muscles. he makes a note to never do one after the other ever again.

oliver sets his duffel bag by the side of the living room couch. he lets his weight fall back on the cream colored cushions. he takes a moment to stare up at the plain ceiling before his eyes flutter shut.

he ascertains that he wasn’t asleep for long when a gentle shake at his thigh slowly yanks him from his state of slumber. his mind is still groggy, yet oliver can already confidently guess who would dare to wake him just by the shape of the hand on his thigh. it's the only other person he gave a copy of his apartment key to. he doesn't question why you're here. he's used to you coming over to stay a few nights.

“you okay, oli?” you ask, hints of worry laced in your pretty voice.

“mhm.” oliver hums. he picks his head up. "no need to worry about me, princess."

you’re fresh out the shower. he realizes this after he picks up on the addicting scent of your coconut and vanilla bodywash that you keep stashed in his bathroom; he senses that there's something else mixed in with it too. he recognizes it to be hints of orris and cedarwood, a combo that he finds on his own clothes. his eyes travel and the sight of you in his shirt nearly makes him pounce on you. he doesn't have the energy for that though, so he opts for reaching out for your hand.

"are you sure? i only woke you 'cause i didn't want you sleeping on the couch. do you want to move to the bed?" you gently squeeze oliver's fingers. "i'll clean out your practice bag too if you want."

"no."

"no?" you chuckle in bewilderment at your boyfriend's sleepy defiance. oliver weakly pats his thighs. you bring your eyebrows together in thought.

your eyes had widened ever so slightly, and he knew you just figured out what he wants. you shake your head. "we don't have to today. you're tired."

"mmm, don't care." oliver denies your refusal and pats his thighs once more. he sees you sigh, the falling of your chest pushes the air out of your lungs, but a soft grin replaces it instantly because who are you to defy him?

you approach oliver, hiking up one leg to come down on one side of his body with the other following immediately after, settling your weight on his lap. your arms drape over his shoulders.

he squeezes your hips before asking the signature question. "how was your day, doll?"

"let me think." you play with the green tips of hair at the back of oliver's neck as you rack your brain for interesting moments to share with him.

oliver isn’t sure how this habit started, but he couldn't be bothered to determine the exact details of its beginnings. all that he’s certain of is the fact that this little routine you’ve developed with him is the best part of his day.

he adores the feeling that comes with your entire weight resting on top of him. he loves being able to take in every detail of your beautiful face up close. he’s addicted to your voice and the stories that you inject into his veins.

he'll admit, some days it’s not even about hearing about your day, some days oliver would use this established routine as an excuse to get touchy with you. his hands would wander down to your ass and you'd throw glares at him. your narrowed eyes would only egg him on more. in response, he’d sit up straighter to kiss your neck, sucking and nibbling at that one sweet spot that makes you scratch at his back. you’d lose track of your story, trading details in for stutters.

you'd say that it’s sly and underhanded. you'd chastise him for not listening, but some days you’re just as unfair. oliver could be in the middle of sharing his recollection of the photoshoot he had earlier in the day when you decide to sneak your hands under his shirt. you’d play dumb as he shivers beneath you, your doe eyes encouraging him to continue. he’d try to carry on with his story, but all he would be able to focus on is your palms running up and down his abs. you'd nod your head as he speaks, there’d be a twinkle in your eye that lets him know that you’re fully aware that he’s on the verge of snapping and taking you right there.

other days no words are exchanged at all. oliver can read your mind just by having your mouth on his. he can tell just by the way you tug on his hair and whine against his lips that you badly missed him.

and sometimes oliver isn't able to be there with you at all. he deems those days to be the worst. they're reduced to facetimes where you try to hide your pretty face from him. the calls lag and crash because some days he's halfway across the country or on an entirely different continent.

today doesn’t fall into either of those categories, and he's most definitely thankful that it isn't the last. today, oliver is solely focused on hearing from you. he lets your rambles take root in his bones. he studies you as you talk. the lights in your eyes rival the stars. the smile on your face as you recall the dog you saw at the park could kill a thousand men. the fire of your touch could set the world ablaze.

oliver is well-aware that he's not worthy to be graced with such beautiful sights. he's no saint. his past is stained with his unfaithfulness and his trail of many relationships. he isn't sure why you gave him a chance despite knowing what he's done. you had said that at least he was being honest about it, but that had only left him with more questions than answers. shouldn't that make you more put off about dating him?

he chooses to ignore it; he shoves the question deep into the corners of his head until it's practically invisible. instead on picking apart that question, he focused on you.

throughout your ongoing relationship, he's put thought into your dates, making sure that they're never exactly the same. he spoils you rotten but not with lavish gifts. the one time he did you were severely unhappy at his thoughtless spending, and thus he made a note in his mental archive to reserve such actions only for your birthday (and anniversaries). instead, he ties your shoe laces for you and he fixes your jewelry. he kisses away your tears when you cry and learns the recipes to your favorite meals. he sits you up on the surface of the sink in his bathroom and brushes your teeth for you when you're too tired to do it yourself. he lets you drag him into doing skincare and makeup because it gives him an excuse to admire how cute you look when you're focused, and he gets to relish in the feeling of your hands brushing against his face.

it was baffling. when oliver first started realizing how much he does for you, he felt like an alien had possessed his body. there was something that had latched itself onto the controls of his brain. that had to be the reason why he was acting so out of character. when he told this to itoshi sae, he was called a fucking idiot and a loser, and looking back, he probably was. the answer, the explanation for his new behavior was in front of him the entire time.

it's simply because-

"i love you." oliver utters out loud. your hands freeze in his hair. whatever you were saying previously dies on your tongue.

"huh?"

oliver blinks slowly. the words had slipped out unintentionally; the gravity of them crush him suddenly. the aftertaste of them is foreign, like they were never supposed to be spoken from him. it's new territory. it's the first time oliver's said that to you in the four months you've been together. it's the first time he's said that to anyone for that matter.

he contemplates taking it back, as if he could ever extract the words from the air and shove them back down his throat. but why bother with jumping through those loops? he has no good reason to take it back. he has no use spinning a truth into a lie. so instead, oliver offers you an upturn of his lips, his heart threatening to break out of his chest. he soaks in all of your microexpressions. your mouth is stuck in a cycle of opening and closing, your eyebrows drawn together in disbelief.

"idiot." you mutter shakily, gnawing at your quivering lip. you bury your face in the crevice of oliver's neck. it makes him smile. he knows your tells. you're about to start crying. "do you know how long i waited for you to say that?"

oliver pulls you in closer, wrapping his buff arms around your waist. "i know." he acknowledges. "i'm sorry it took me so long to realize it."

you tug hardly on his hair to get back at him. the pain spreads to his scalp, and he can't find it in him to be mad. "damn princess." he chuckles.

you remove your head from its hiding place. both of your hands slide so that they rest on either side of oliver's neck. in the light, he can catch the path of tears that fell from your eyes. "yeah, well, you deserved it."

"i know."

"i love you." you breathe out desperately. the four words that have been boiling inside you, the four words you've managed to cage up finally rush out and crash down like waves.

"yeah?" oliver smirks. you lean in closer, and he gives your waist a quick squeeze.

"yeah. i love you so much." you whisper in front of oliver's lips before he closes the inch gap between you two.

usually, when oliver kisses you, he's does so as if he's a starved man; he wants to devour you whole. this is nothing like that. he substitutes his hunger for softness. his lips are gentle against yours as if to prove himself to you. he wants you, with every fiber in his being, to believe that his words are true. his 'i love you's' are real and honest and come from the deepest parts of his heart. when you pull away, you both look at each other as if your each other's entire world.

"i love you, princess." oliver says. the words are still unfamiliar on his tongue, but he thinks he can get used to them. he'll say them as many times as he needs to if it meant that he can see that blinding smile on your face.

oliver aiku is no saint, but he'll do anything for you.

[venuslarkspur]

Teen Hero Shenanigans

Part 1

Jon My Love, There’s A New Batgirl.

Summary: Your Damian’s Twin Sister, after arriving 3 years after your brother so you never excepted to take the Robin mantle, until your brother runs away and you volunteer to take his place. Damian eventually returns and you are discharged from the role, after bottling up your anger you decide to go solo by running away and stealing the Batgirl. But your not alone, your sort of boyfriend joins you. The main problem is the boyfriend in question is your brother’s best friend, Jon Kent.

Pairing: Just Jon Kent x Batsis!Reader on this one. Mentions of platonic Jason and reader.

Notes: it’s not proofread so I’m so sorry if there’s any mistakes 😭

Warnings: Undertones of Misogyny, mentions of Talia being overprotective, Teen Runaways.

Words: 1.4k

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You weren’t sure if you had heard your father right, all you knew right now is that you had to get as far away as possible. You ignored your father calling out to you and ran out that office, you felt your dinner coming up. You clenched your stomach and your mind relapsed. It brought back bad memories from your time with your grandfather, being pinned against Damian and being chosen as the inferior twin. That’s why you weren’t the heir, that’s why you weren’t Robin first. And that’s why your currently sprinting you way through the house, Cass had called out to you and you felt dreadful for ignoring her but you you couldn’t take this right now. You were displaced, again.

One thing led to another and you were stood in the bat cave, staring at all the costumes behind the glass. There were so many, but only one caught your eye. Barbara’s purple and yellow Batgirl costume. Maybe it was the Lazarus Pit trauma talking but suddenly your picking up the nearest object and smashing the glass, suddenly your putting the costume on and grabbing your phone from your room. Suddenly you’re jumping out your window and hopping the fence; you wished you’d had at least told Jason or even Cass what your game was, but it’s not like there would be much explain; your instinct just acted for you. And it felt good to hop over buildings in costume and punching a few noses on the way, as of right now you were snapping off your boyfriend’s window lock, and your feet hit the ground with a creak. Jon wasn’t there but you looked at the time on your phone which read 18:05, he must of still been having dinner. So you waited for 5 minutes and in true Wayne family fashion sat there on his bed, reading one of his textbooks; until you heard footsteps outside the door but continued on reading.

The door opened and you sat up straight and met eyes with the person you’d hoped to see, “Y/n? Is that you?” Jon eyes widened, many questions floating around his head. You slipped the mask off and got up and met him, “We need to whisper, and shut the door please.” You tried to say as politely as possible, he got the message and gently shut the door. “I heard…so it’s true that Damian’s back.” He inferred as you led him to sit down with you on the bed, you sat down and took his hands in yours. “I was happy but judging by this costume, did Batman fire you?” You nodded at him and looked down in shame, but he quickly brought your chin back up. “He told me I was discharged, but I’m sure that’s just a gentler term for fired.” You sighed, and as mad as you felt you saw this as an opportunity to join his lips to yours for what might be the last time. You slowly moved in and connected your lips to his, he sensed the urgency and moved in as well but didn’t quite understand the rush.

You stayed that way for a while, but slowly moved away as he popped another question. “What’s actually wrong?” He asked and you felt bad because right now he looked like a sad puppy, but you couldn’t drag him down with you. Not to mention you had to be more careful with Damian’s return. “I’m sorry but I think I’m gonna tough it out on my own for a while.” You took your hands away from his and instantly missed the warmth. He looked at you as if you’d just told him his whole family died. “You’ve actually lost it if you think I’m letting you go off on your own.” He took his hands back into yours. “If think you need to do this- I’m not gonna act like I’m not happy about it but if I can’t stop you I’m gonna join you.” You both stay that way for a while, and reality sinks in at last. “I can’t let you, your parents won’t forgive me not to mention Damian will feel so betrayed I’m just not sure..” you whisper as if not wanting anything to change but it’s already too late, everything’s changed.

“Sorry Batgirl you can’t stop me, I couldn’t forgive myself if something happened to you, not to mention the wrath of your brothers, jeez..” He blushes and on a more serious note you accept his proposal. “Okay we can set up base at the outskirts I think, I know a place.” You stand up and reapply your mask, he follows and asks “Are you nervous?” You grin and if you could look at yourself right now you’d probably remind yourself of your twin brother. “Nope, nobody’s taking us down and if they try they won’t try and come back for another round.” You give him one last peck before sliding past the window sill again. “Gather what you need, speak to who you need, I’ll be on the rooftop when you’re ready.” You smile at each other before slipping onto the roof without a sound.

You made a point to ignore the countless notifications on your phone, only messaging Damian with an unhelpful “Im okay.”

————————

You knew just where you both wouldn’t be found, it probably would of been ideal to just ask to make your team but not only would that expose your relationship, it would also make family reunions really awkward. You weren’t really thinking at all, you knew a warehouse you could operate from for the time being. It was where you and Jason trained for a bit, you had fond memories of being taken for ice cream afterwards and a ride on the back of his bike. It was nice to have someone look out for you, so much effort went into training Damian when you were young children, your grandfather tried to believe in you but knew ultimately Damian would be the heir. Which created so many insecurities, well right now you weren’t much better running off with his friend but as you saw it you needed to pave your way as well.

Talia hadn’t even wanted you to leave, you had to run away to escape your overly pampered life; and it took Bruce insisting you stay to get her to return home; but she still promised you’d eventually return to her. As much as you had wanted to lecture her on her overly protective behaviour you also wanted her approval. Sure she would be happy you were rebelling against your father, but would she approve of you doing it this way? Would she approve of Jon? Who was currently flying you both to the warehouse. You wanted to be validated and that you hated the most.

You didn’t feel like being alone tonight either, you knew there was an abandoned flat above the warehouse but you and Jason had never gone up there. But you didn’t mind if it was a 1 bed situation, if anything it would help to have someone to hold. Worse case scenario you’re both found sharing a bed and your brothers lost their shit. As long as you both are fully clothed at the time nothing too bad should happen.

And it felt like the most natural thing ever, patrolling together, the thugs being confused wondering when you two became an item. Turning them into the nearby station, avoiding cctv and you going to your new makeshift home as if it was the most normal thing ever. You had set up your own mini crime alert on Jon’s laptop and found ways to charge your devices. You even managed to spruce up the warehouse and upstairs apartment a bit, thank goodness Jon was raised normally and knew how to cook because you couldn’t cook to save your life.

But naturally your respective families began to put the pieces together, and soon enough Oracle was watching.

Taglist: @waterwyne @venusmorning

(If you want to be added please let me know <3)

[willowed-wisp]

sweethearts [ johnny ‘soap’ mactavish ]

johnny ‘soap’ mactavish x f!reader

You had known him forever. Since nursery school and all the time in between.

John MacTavish- though, you called him Johnny. And in later life, that turned into calling him ‘Soap’.

He had been gunning for that uniform since you were 15 and he was 16… falsifying his age only to fail miserably.

It was culture shock to when he left when he was 18… he was your first friend, first kiss, first young love. Yet, it was nothing official. Just two best friends experimenting with each other. You couldn’t have asked for a better person.

You were there when he came back- more of a man than the boy who left. All of him larger than before even that indicative smile. But HE hadn’t changed, still the same snack eating, football loving Scotsman.

That meant your attraction for him was worse than ever- having been in love with Johnny for most of your life. His sky bursted gaze enough to drive you crazy.

Someone like him would never feel the same about you- strictly friends.

Mates who got mistaken for boyfriend and girlfriend most days of the week. Neither of you minded it but it was always you who persisted the, ‘as if… he drives me insane…’ the pining kind of insanity.

His return led you to distance yourself, an insecure freshly turned 18 year old, distracting herself from the boy next door. Johnny could do much better for friends than you, he was the youngest SAS recruit to pass the selection.

HE COULD DO MUCH BETTER THAN YOU.

You didn’t even go say goodbye to him when he left for his first mission- somewhere you’d never know.

Instead, he came to you. Stood at your doorstep.

His face gloomy, “So you weren’ even gonna say goodbye?” Not knowing what to do, your shoulders shrugged and silence ensued. “You’ve been off for weeks, when was the last time we had a movie night? Is it because of the training? Me leavin’?”

Fingers picking at your nails; you’d never been nervous around him. But this was the first time seeing him in god-knows how long, when you hadn’t spent a day away from each other. “I don’t know, John- ,”

“You do know and that’s the problem, Y/N, because you won’t bloody tell me what I’ve done wrong,” he spoke harsher than intended, regretting it within an instant as your stepped forward- sizing the six foot something soldier up.

Staring up at him, “Why do you bother with me when you could have anybody around you? I’m not going anywhere with my life!” It wasn’t envy that spurred you on, it was the fact he was going to leave you.

Heartbroken and yearning. Lost without the boy who had always bolstered you up when you had been thrown to the ground.

Johnny’s eyes welled with tears, “What’s made you think that?”

In a whisper, “You’ve just gotten into the fucking SAS, Johnny…”

“So what? I’m still the same guy… nothing’s ever gonna change me… you should know that by now…”

You wanted things to change- the dynamics between you. Before he found somebody who would knock him off his feet and you’d never get the chance.

His fingers trailed your arm, before he cupped your hand. Blue coveted your vision, “Nothing’s goin’ to change us, you’re my absolute best mate…”

Like a dagger, he struck a nerve, “Maybe I don’t want to be your ‘best mate’, I’m sick of pining for you when clearly you’ll never feel the same way,” a quick pause, “Go and find a pretty gir- ,” Before you knew it, his kiss smothered you. More intimate than when you were twelve, with more intent.

Instead of resisting, you caved in. Hands balanced holding his jawline, clean shaven.

Exploring every inch of your body in that hurried kiss. It was better than anything you had dreamed.

Before you pulled away first, “You’re my everything, Y/N…” Thumbs rubbing circles at your waist. “I cannot tell you how long I’ve wanted to do tha’…”

The memory ran writhe in your brain. That was 8 years ago…

Since then you were happily married with a baby on the way. Johnny had been deployed for over a month. Today he was supposed to be returning- from where you didn’t have a clue but he always came home safely.

That’s what mattered.

You expected the phone to start buzzing, the usual unknown number saying to go to the airport. Instead, a knock at the door.

It was like him not to want to run you around pregnant. But it was Simon who answered the door.

Not able to help the tremble. Air caught in your throat, choking on nothing. “He’s not… is he?” Stopping those tears from coming down- clutching your belly.

You’d have fallen to your knees- had it not been for capable hands.

You looked up, blue eyes for days and a face contorted worriedly, “What did you say, to ‘er, LT?” He held you close, but it would never be enough for you. “You and munchkin okay?” He rubbed your large stomach.

You crushed him in your arms. “Darlin’, I’m a bit tender…” Only then did you notice the sling in his arm, a bandage skirting beneath his shirt.

“What happened?” He shook his head, a grin on his face.

One of nervousness, “It could have been a lot worse,” Simon was as gruff as usual. You would never be allowed to know what happened.

“I’m just glad you’re safe and sound,” Thumb rubbing along longer stubble on his cheek, there was more to the story than either him or Simon were telling you. “You too, Si, thanks for taking care of him.” Spoken wholeheartedly, “Dinners on, you can stay if you want?”

He accepted as he usually did. The mood held less tension as time went on. You came to the conclusion that you were lucky to have Johnny in front of you, laughing at some stupid dad joke Simon said.

All you did was sit there, looking at the guy you had loved all your life.

Your Johnny…

————

I contemplated 💀 Johnny but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. He’s just too sweet and just too tragic to write.

Thank you for reading :) xx

————

masterlist

[mattsmiddlepartt]

The study session

Warnings: Cocky, insufferably charming quarterback with an ego the size of Texas. Reluctant !nerd reader who can’t decide if they want to roll their eyes or swoon. Heavy banter, sprinkled with sarcasm and a little tension. Academic struggles (because math is the real villain here). Flirty remarks that might make you scream into your pillow.

!popular chris × !nerd reader

Chris Sturniolo was the guy everyone wanted to be or be with. The star quarterback, class clown, and effortlessly charming, he strutted through the halls like he owned the place. His ego was as big as the trophy case his team filled every year.

You, on the other hand, were the complete opposite. The quiet nerd who excelled in academics but avoided the spotlight like the plague. You never thought your world would collide with Chris’s—until it did.

“Y/N.”

You looked up from your desk in the library to see Chris leaning against the table, his signature smirk plastered on his face. He was dressed in his football jersey, and the scent of his cologne hit you before his words did.

“Yes?” you asked cautiously, unsure why he was talking to you.

“I need you to tutor me,” he said bluntly, dropping into the seat across from you. “Mrs. Carter said you’re the best in calculus, and if I don’t pass this test, I’m benched.”

You blinked at him. “And why should I help you?”

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with an infuriating grin. “Because I’m Chris Sturniolo. Who wouldn’t want to help me?”

You let out a laugh before you could stop yourself. “Your ego’s even bigger in person than it is on the field.”

“Confidence, nerd,” he corrected. “It’s what makes me a winner. So, what do you say? Help me out, and maybe I’ll sign an autograph or something.”

You rolled your eyes but agreed. Not for him—just because Mrs. Carter would probably find a way to blame you if he flunked.

-

The first study session was a disaster.

Chris showed up late, of course, sauntering into the library with his usual swagger. “Relax, I’m here,” he announced, earning a glare from the librarian.

“You’re 20 minutes late,” you said flatly.

“Yeah, but I’m worth the wait,” he said, dropping into the chair and grinning.

You sighed, pushing a worksheet toward him. “Let’s just get started.”

As it turned out, Chris wasn’t dumb—he just didn’t pay attention in class. He struggled through the first few problems, groaning dramatically every time he made a mistake.

“This is pointless,” he complained, leaning back in his chair. “I’m a quarterback, not a mathematician.”

“You’re also failing,” you shot back, shoving the paper closer to him. “So stop whining and focus.”

He gave you a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

-

By the second session, Chris had started to improve—though his ego hadn’t shrunk a bit.

“See? I’m a natural,” he said, holding up a worksheet where he’d gotten most of the answers right.

“You’re a natural because I’m teaching you,” you corrected, but he just grinned.

“Same thing,” he said, leaning back and tossing his pencil onto the table. “You know, you’re not as boring as I thought you’d be.”

“Gee, thanks,” you said dryly.

“I’m serious!” he said, smirking. “You’ve got this whole ‘no-nonsense’ thing going on. It’s kind of cute.”

Your cheeks burned, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. “Focus, Sturniolo.”

He chuckled but turned his attention back to the worksheet.

-

By the time the test rolled around, Chris was ready. Afterward, he found you in the library, waving his graded paper in the air.

“Eighty-five percent!” he exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m a genius!”

“You’re barely passing,” you said, but you couldn’t help smiling.

“Thanks to you,” he said, plopping into the seat across from you. For once, his usual cocky demeanor was replaced with something almost genuine. “Seriously, Y/N. I owe you one.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you teased.

His smirk returned. “Too late. Same time next week?”

“For what?”

“Who knows?” he said with a wink. “Maybe I’ll flunk science just to see you again.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart betrayed you with a small flutter. Chris Sturniolo might have been insufferable, but you had to admit—he made life a little more interesting.

Taggies!: @chasekeithh @mackenziezeieglerr @sophiabirlemm @jakewebberr9 @mattscoquette @mattserenity @mattsbrowser @matthewsturnioloo @christophersturnn @chrissturniolodailysluts @chrisfavoritewhore..

Inspos!: @bernardsbendystraws ♡ @muwapsturniolo ☆

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[bidisasterevankinard]

sentences sunday

I was tagged by @diazsdimples @midsummersmorn

guess what? I have sequel for this fix it mpreg (more likely 1 out of 3 sequels)

“Evan?”

His husband hums, still reading the wikipedia page, so Tommy takes the laptop from him, sitting it on his nightstand. 

“Hey, I was almost done,” Evan pouts and Tommy giggles, kissing this adorable face. 

“Sorry, babe, but I have something important I want to talk about with you while I am still brave enough.”

Evan rapidly blinks and Tommy grabs his hand, kissing Evan’s shoulder and then sitting on the bed, facing Evan and moving Evan so he faces him.

“Evan, you and Dany are the most important people to me. My greatest happiness,” his husband blushes and smiles and Tommy again asks himself how this sun hadn’t blind him yet. “For years, I was alone. Too lonely not just outside, but inside my body. Alone and scared. Scared to love and let people love me because it felt like I don’t deserve forever. Like I don’t deserve to keep happiness. Maybe not even feel it at all,” Evan nods, remembering their thousands of conversations after they got together, especially during therapy. “It took me a while to believe that you will stay. That I can keep you and Dany as long as I’m willing to work for it with you,” Tommy can’t stop himself from kissing his husband at this moment. “I have everything I wasn’t brave enough to dream and more than young, scared and pretty asshole Tommy deserved. And I promise it’s enough. But recently, I can’t stop thinking that maybe our family can have another little person?”

Evan adorably giggles, kissing his nose, “Tommy, are you asking about putting another baby in me?”

Tommy shakes his head in exasperation, but hugs Evan’s waist, “yes. I want another baby, because I think now is the best time as ever. I’m soon to be 45 and you are almost 36. I have only a year before I can go to retirement with a full pension. And my friend in the academy told me they would be happy to give me a job there. It’s a good schedule, not like shifts and I still will have good income, so money won't be a problem. Plus you think about applying for Lieutenant soon, as Bobby now actually thinks about retirement in a year or two as Athena planned hers too. And you need to study a lot for it. But before that we can grow our family and you would have time to grow in your career, studying during pregnancy, if you would want to do it again.” 

Tommy swallows, thinking if he's too selfish to add the next part or not. But he remembers he and Evan promised to have full open communication so he continues, but almost in a whisper.

“I also would be really happy to have a chance to share this experience with you,” he looks at Evan who nods to him with a sad smile. “We both know why I wasn’t here for you with Dany, and I left it behind. We left it behind, but I,” Tommy kisses Evan’s knuckles, “I really wish to have this experience with you.”

Evan, with wet eyes and one of the most bright smiles Tommy ever saw, kisses him before saying, “look at my browser history.”

Tommy frowns, but does as he is told.

And what he sees makes him chuckle with tears of joy falling from his eyes.

how to ask your husband about second baby

recommendations how to ask your husband about trying for second baby

how long it takes to get pregnant after stopping birth control

second pregnancy. what to expect

how to prepare your house for coming of second baby

how to prepare your oldest kid for coming of new one

Np tagging @powersuitup @hippolotamus @wikiangela @quintessenceofdust88 @theotherbuckley @weewookinard @queerbuck @repressedqueen @racerchix21 @typicalopposite @mmso-notlikethat @devirnis @loucifersbitch @lavenderleahy @bewilderedbuckley @bekkachaos @pirrusstuff @evansbuck-ley @desert--moonchild @actuallyitsellie @hyperfocusthusly @leashybebes @half-oz-eddie @bi-buckrights

[liviawildrose]

𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

it’s a hard pill to swallow, but sometimes, you’ve got to step into a role you never signed up for. maybe your mom wasn’t the nurturing, protective figure she was supposed to be. maybe your dad let you down in ways that left scars. maybe your friends only stuck around to take, never to give. the truth? you can’t wait for someone to come and save you. you have to become your own mother.

ask yourself:

if your child was in your shoes—stuck in a bad relationship, getting treated like crap— would you tell them, “stay”? or would you say, “you deserve better than this”?

if your child was chasing their dreams but struggling, would you mock them? no. you’d guide them, push them to be their best. you’d discipline them with love and cheer them on with pride. now, apply that same energy to yourself.

be that mom who says: “get your shit together because you deserve the best life possible.”

but also the mom who says: “it’s okay to rest, i’ve got your back, and i’m proud of you.”

start showing up for yourself the way you needed someone to show up for you. and yes, it’s sad. sad that we even have to do this. but it’s also empowering to realize you can.

personally, here’s my story.

my mom never cared to take my pictures as a kid nor cared if a haircut made me happy or not, it was literally everything up to her convenience. it hurts now because i would’ve loved to look back and see those memories. but i don’t have them. i can count the photos of my childhood—20 pictures in 17 years. insane, right? so, i made a promise to myself: from now on, i will document my life. i won’t delete my photos. i’ll make sure there’s a record of who i was, what i felt, what i achieved. and when i have kids? you bet i’ll take pictures of them. i’ll curate their childhood with care because i know what it feels like to not have that.

but being your own mother isn’t just about the pictures or the memories. it’s about analyzing everything you missed out on and providing it for yourself now. it’s about being selfless enough to let go of bad habits that hold you back. it’s about kicking toxic people out of your life the way a mom would protect her child from bad influences. it’s about prioritizing your healing, even if it’s messy and uncomfortable. you have to heal your inner child. that 5-year-old who was bullied, that 13-year-old who was treated like shit in her first relationship, that 7-year-old who dreamed big but was told she couldn’t they’re all still inside you, waiting for someone to nurture them. and unfortunately, no one else is going to do it for you. no one else is going to come and fix the damage.

i made a pact with myself: when i have kids, i will raise them so well that they won’t ever need to “heal their inner child” at 17 or 18. they’ll be whole. they’ll be loved. they’ll know their worth from the start. but for now, i’m doing that for myself. and you need to do it for yourself too. because at the end of the day, the only way to heal is to become the person you needed all along. become your own mother.

what is the inner child?

the “inner child” is the part of you that holds your early experiences, memories, and emotions. it’s the 5-year-old you who loved to laugh but was scolded for being “too much.” it’s the 10-year-old you who dreamed big but felt dismissed. it’s the teen you who felt heartbreak for the first time but didn’t know how to process it. your inner child carries the wounds, fears, and unmet needs from your past, but also your natural creativity, curiosity, and joy. healing your inner child means reconnecting with this version of yourself, giving it the love and understanding it never received, and releasing the pain it has carried for years.

how do you heal your inner child?

1. journaling: dialogue with your inner child

dedicate a journal specifically to your inner child. write letters to them, like:

“dear [your name at 5/7/13], i remember when you felt [insert memory]. i’m sorry you went through that, but i’m here now, and i’ve got you.”

let your inner child respond. write as if you’re that younger version of yourself—pour out your fears, dreams, and questions. this process can uncover emotions and patterns you didn’t realize were affecting you.

2. therapy: safe exploration with a professional

a therapist (especially one trained in inner child work) can help you identify wounds and patterns from childhood. they’ll guide you in understanding how your upbringing shaped your beliefs about yourself and the world. therapy also gives you tools to reframe those beliefs and meet your emotional needs.

watch “dear zindagi” lol

3. look at old photos and memories

revisit old photos, journals, or artwork from your childhood. don’t just look at them—analyze them. (i wish i could d this but im stuck with 20 photos so… 😭) what do you notice in your younger self’s eyes, body language, or expression?

• ask yourself:

• what was i feeling here?

• did i feel safe? loved? excited? scared?

• what did i need in this moment that i didn’t get?

• use this reflection to understand your inner child’s unmet needs.

4. create new positive memories

your inner child is still alive within you, and they crave fun, love, and freedom. do things your younger self would’ve loved but never got to do: buy yourself a toy you always wanted. go to an amusement park or build a pillow fort. dance around your room like no one’s watching. this isn’t childish it’s healing.

5. practice reparenting

treat yourself as if you were your own child. when you feel sad or scared, don’t ignore it.

ask yourself: what do i need right now? and give it to yourself.

be the loving, supportive, and protective parent your inner child deserved.

6. identify triggers and patterns

notice when you’re acting out of a place of childhood wounds.

for example: do you get overly anxious when someone’s mad at you? do you seek validation in toxic relationships? trace these behaviors back to your childhood.

were you taught that love is conditional? did you have to “earn” attention by being perfect? once you identify the root, you can start rewiring your responses.

7. inner child meditations and visualizations

find a quiet space and imagine your inner child sitting across from you. visualize yourself comforting them, hugging them, and telling them they’re safe. remind them: “you don’t have to be scared anymore. i’m here for you.”

8. nurture yourself daily

make self-care non-negotiable. eat foods you love, sleep well, move your body, and spend time doing things that make you happy. when you treat yourself with care, you show your inner child they’re worth it.

9. forgive

healing isn’t about excusing those who hurt you. it’s about releasing the hold they have over you so you can move forward. write a forgiveness letter—not for them, but for yourself. (they don’t deserve the love i’m sorry)

“i release the pain you caused me so it doesn’t control me anymore.”

10. promise to break the cycle

vow to yourself (and your future children if you want them) just cause your grandma bleed on your mom and then your mom passed it to you does not mean you will make your future kids life miserable too. the generational trauma must break with you. your future child does not deserve it and so your inner child protect you inner child and when you have a child of your own be the best mother possible, i personally would love to make my future kids childhood so memorable and happy that they will feel the need to comeback and relive their childhood that’s the kind of childhood i want to give them

“i will not let this pain define me. i will create a life of love, joy, and freedom.”

healing your inner child isn’t easy, but it’s life-changing.when you reconnect with that innocent, wounded part of yourself, you’ll find that the love and peace you’ve been searching for has always been within you.

11. foster your inner child’s dreams

when you were a child, your dreams weren’t influenced by fear, rejection, or societal pressures. you dreamed with your heart wide open, purely and authentically. reconnecting with those dreams can heal the part of you that felt unheard or invalidated back then.

a. reflect on your childhood aspirations

• sit down and ask yourself:

• what did i want to be when i was 5? 10? 13?

• what made me happiest back then?

• what did i lose interest in because someone told me i wasn’t good enough?

• write down every dream, no matter how “unrealistic” it seems.

hint: those childhood dreams often point to your soul’s calling.

b. start chasing those dreams now

• even if your dreams have evolved, find ways to honor the essence of them.

• wanted to be a singer at 13? start singing lessons or recording yourself.

• wanted to help people? explore careers like psychology, teaching, or coaching.

• don’t hold back.

it’s not about being perfect, it’s about reconnecting with the passion your younger self had.

c. create small wins for your inner child

• maybe 8-year-old you always wanted to paint but never got the supplies. buy yourself a beginner’s set and paint, even if it’s messy.

• maybe 6-year-old you wanted to be a dancer. take a fun dance class and twirl like no one’s watching.

• small wins send the message to your inner child that they are finally being prioritized.

e. validate your inner child’s feelings and failures

• remind yourself:

“it’s okay that 10-year-old me struggled with making friends. i was just a child trying my best.”

• instead of shaming yourself for past actions, honor them.

every mistake was a step toward becoming the incredible person you are now.

f. use your dreams to shape your future

• your childhood passions aren’t just hobbies—they’re roadmaps to your authentic self.

• align your current goals with your inner child’s desires.

• if 7-year-old you dreamed of making people smile, maybe your career or side hustle should reflect that.

• if 12-year-old you loved storytelling, find ways to write, act, or share your voice.

fostering your inner child’s dreams doesn’t just heal the past—it builds a future that feels authentic to you. every time you take a step toward those dreams, you’re telling your inner child: “you were always worthy. your dreams always mattered. and now, i’m making them come true for you.”

[totallynotobsessedwithfandoms]

I saw Wicked Part 1 and I—

Just the Broadway tour of Wicked was the first touring cast of a musical I had seen that wasn’t a Disney Broadway show. My mom and I drove four hours to stay in the city it was performing in. That musical was truly what launched me into my obsession with musicals that lasts to this day.

I went into seeing the movie with astonishingly low hopes, especially after my personal annoyances with Mean Girls earlier this year (what on earth did they do to Stupid with Love my babyyyy 😭). But holy shit.

Just…holy shit.

It floored my expectations. Sure, there were a couple things I didn’t love, but that’s all personal preferences and stuff, the movie was phenomenal and I am absolutely flabbergasted.

And like…how did they make it gayer???

My mom said she didn’t see any gay subtext and I was over here staring at the movie screen like—

ITS NO LONGER SUBTEXT WTF

Anyway.

Good job.

Closeted femme lesbian Galinda, bisexual Elphaba, pansexual Fiyero my beloveds.

Personally I think Elphaba and Fiyero shouldn't have been a ship but instead best friends teaming up to solve injustice but hey.

It’s still a phenomenal musical and an apparently good movie????

Flabbergasted.

Absolutely flabbergasted.

[loulovingho]

You know what’s bothering me today? The Glee speech and its relation to Tommy’s timeline. Glee was in its heyday in seasons 1 and 2. After that, the tone and quality changed drastically in season 3. It got very afterschool special that season. By season 5, viewership had really dropped off. So, Glee was popular from 2009-2011 (or at best, 2009-2012 if you count season 3). Abby’s relationship with Tommy ended not too long before 911 season 1 started; maybe a year earlier. 911 begins in 2018. This means, she likely broke up with Tommy around 2017. In a “post Glee” world, Tommy was still closeted and dating women. It wasn’t until 5-6 years after Glee’s popularity that he came out.

The very mention of Glee was just a way for Ryan to jerk himself off. It doesn’t relate to Tommy at all. The overall message of the speech might’ve been okay if it weren’t for the fact there was no follow through. Every section of the episode felt like it was written by a different person, none of them knowing what the previous person wrote.

[moonandstarshyuck]

"Always."

lando norris x gn!bf!reader

notes: I haven’t written since 2019, so bear with me. I’ve found myself thinking about a little blurb for Lando recently (actually a lot of ideas, but this one is sticking with me more than the others at the moment).

For some context, Lando’s been receiving a huge amount of hate online (and in-person) recently. I haven’t been a fan for that long—I got into F1 this summer, in 2024—but I’ve grown to care about him. I was there for Lando losing the championship, and while I think we all knew it would come to this (Max winning felt inevitable) but I’m proud of Lando for pushing so hard this entire year.

Still, with all the hate directed at him, I’m seeing a new side of him, and I’m learning that he’s a person with feelings like anyone else. I can tell he doesn’t always have the highest opinion of himself and tends to take the blame for anything that goes wrong during his races. What struck me about this is how much I relate to it. I blame myself for things out of my control or when I mess up. What sucks with Lando is that his small, human errors are what so many people focus on to criticize him—whether it’s why he didn’t win the championship or why they think he’s a bad person (which he absolutely isn’t).

The inspiration for this came from an interview he did after the Brazilian GP. At that point, everyone knew it was almost mathematically impossible for Lando to win the championship, and he talked about struggling in the aftermath: “I literally couldn’t sleep for the first two days…So I did like, what, 36-40 hours straight. So that probably made everything worse. When you’re tired, you’re more moody, and that kind of thing…I was just sat at home alone. It probably would have been better if I had been with my friends. But they don’t live in Monaco. They also have lives and are busy doing other things. And I’m a big overthinker, so like the whole flight home, the whole week, it just played over and over in my head. What could I have done differently? Why did I do that? Why did I not do this? You start thinking of all the scenarios that you kind of blame yourself for, why it’s now not possible, that kind of thing. And yeah, because I overthink and I struggle with that kind of thing, that took a bigger toll in the days after. It wasn’t an easy time.”

And I keep on finding myself wishing someone could have been there for him in person, so that he was okay. So, I wrote this. The reader in this is dating Lando but is written as a gender-neutral character that uses They/Them pronouns. The reader also has a service dog, a Bernese Mountain Dog named Thunder, to help with their own depression and anxiety (I’m not an expert on service dogs, so this many not be 100% accurate).

They woke up that early morning to the sunlight shining on their face, streaming in from the window outside. The bliss of sleep clung to them as they lay there, cocooned in warmth, the covers snug around their body. They stretched lazily, blinking their eyes open.

Instinctively, they turned to look beside them—only to find the space next to them empty. It’s too early in the morning to be anywhere else but in bed, even for training, they thought. Lando should still be here.

The realization pulled them out of their sleepy haze. The past couple of days had been not kind to Lando. They knew that he had a tendency to keep his feelings bottled up and beat himself up over his perceived failures. They understood that feeling all too well—the guilt, the constant sense of disappointment, the nagging thought that were never good enough. They had wrestled with those feelings since they were a child.

It wasn’t something that had an easy fix. If they had found the answer, they would have shared it with Lando years ago. But they had learned that the best way to fight those thoughts wasn’t isolation. Talking to someone, writing feelings down, even simple positive affirmations—thought they might sound silly—could help push back against the negative spiral. They had told Lando this countless times.

But Lando had a problem with not wanting to “inconvenience” anyone with his emotions. No matter how many times they reassured him that they were always there for him, he struggled to let himself. They didn’t blame him—it was human to struggle against your own mind.

What made everything worse was the constant online hate. Every little mistake or sarcastic comment from Lando seemed to turn into an avalanche of criticism. They remembered the first time they’d seen him like a hateful comment about himself on Instagram—the little heart next to a cruel statement, paired with note: “Creator liked this.” It had broken their heart. How could the Lando they loved ever believe such awful things about himself?

After Brazil, it had been clear that he wasn’t okay. He’d barely spoken since coming home, choosing instead to himself. They had given him space, hoping he’d find a way to process his feelings. But by the second morning, when he still hadn’t come to bed—almost forty hours after returning home—they knew they couldn’t stand by any longer.

That morning, they rose slowly from the bed, a plan beginning to form in their mind. Lanod needed someone to step in—someone to remind him he didn’t have to face his struggles alone. They were determined to be that person for him.  They couldn’t take it anymore, seeing the person they loved so badly, punishing himself over his ‘failures.’

The first step was to confirm where he was. Grabbing their phone, they opened Twitch and navigated to Max’s stream. After a few moments of watching, they heard Lando’s voice—tired, strained, but unmistakably his. He was joking with Max, his words clipped, like he was holding himself together with sheer willpower. It was enough to break their heart. They opened their messages with Max.

Thunder's Owner

Lan’s streaming with you rn?

Sent at 7:48 AM.

After a few seconds, Max replied.

Maximilian

Yeah he’s on voice-only.

Sent at 7:50 AM.

Gonna do something about him?

Sent at 7:50 AM.

Max knew. Of course he did. He probably heard the exhaustion in Lando’s voice, the edge self-loathing that came with overthinking. They typed back quickly:

Thunder's Owner

Yeah

Sent 7:52 AM.

Going to unplug his setup and drag him out of there.

Sent 7:52 AM.

Maximilian

Lol.

Sent 7:52 AM.

I’ll keep an eye out for when he disappears.

Sent 7:53 AM.

Thunder's Owner

Thx

Sent 7:54 AM.

They quietly made their way to Lando’s gaming room and eased the door open. Lando sat at his desk, controller in hand, headset clamped over messy curls.  He looked worn down, his shoulders slumped as he focused on the screen. His voice through, muted put playful, as he bantered with Max.

For a moment, they just watched him. Even now, he was handsome, but the tiredness in his expression made their chest ache. He deserved rest. He deserved to feel okay. And he wasn’t going to get that by sitting here punishing himself.

As soon as Lando died in-game and leaned back in his chair, they seized the opportunity. They crossed the room, catching his attention when they came into view.

“Why’re you—” Lando began, frowning, but they didn’t let him finish. Reaching down, they unplugged everything from the wall.

“What the hell—” he exclaimed, spinning around in his chair.

“No,” they said firmly, cutting him off. “I’m not you hurt yourself anymore. Get up.”

Lando blinked, clearly taken aback. “You can’t just do that!” he protested, but they were already tugging gently at him arm, urging him out of his chair.

“Angel, what are you—”

“No,” they repeated, their voice steady. “Get up,”

Lando hesitated for a moment before letting out a resigned sigh and standing. They took his hand, leading him out of the gaming room and down the hall to the living room. He didn’t resist, but he followed like a man in a daze. Once they reached the couch, they turned to him. “Sit,” they said, pointing at the cushions. Lando raised an eyebrow, opening his mouth to argue, but they shook their head. “Stay.”

They turned to Thunder, who had been waiting for them in the hallway, and told him, “Thunder, guard,” while pointing at Lando.

The dog immediately moved into position, standing alert in front of the couch. Lando’s eyes widened slightly as Thunder fixed him with an unblinking stare. He shifted as if to get up, but Thunder’s stance didn’t waver.

“Jeez, I wasn’t going to get up,” he mumbled to Thunder, but Thunder just sat there and watched him until he fully relaxed back into the couch.

The thought ran through Lando’s head, how he had honestly forgotten how menacing his own dog could look. He knew Thunder was trained, saw reminders of it daily with how he interacted with his partner, but he was still shocked at how trained Thunder really was at that moment.

Thunder was still staring at him when he pulled out his phone from his pocket, opening up his texts with Max.

LN

I was just dragged out of my gaming room and told to sit on the couch and like a dog.

Sent at 8:05 AM.

Not against it, but how tf did they get so determined?

Sent at 8:05 AM.

Thunder’s watching me right now.

Sent at 8:06 AM.

I forgot how menacing he could be.

Sent at 8:06 AM.

*Picture attached.*

Lol.

Sent at 8:06 AM.

Max (The 1st One)

He’s like ‘try me, I dare you’

Sent at 8:06 AM.

LN

Yeah, I don’t particularly want to try him

Sent at 8:07 AM.

Max (The 1st One)

Lol.

Sent at 8:07 AM.

They told me before they did it

Sent at 8:07 AM.

I just let them. Lol.

Sent at 8:07 AM.

LN

Helpful. What if they were trying to  kill me?

Sent at 8:08 AM.

They wouldn’t have had to if you kept doing what you were doing.

Sent at 8:09 AM.

Lando’s let out a quiet sigh, Max’s words sinking in. He glanced at Thunder, who hadn’t moved, and felt a pang of guilt. He’d pushed himself too far again, and this time it had clearly worried his partner.

A few minutes later, his partner walked back into their living room. He thought they looked beautiful, wearing one of his old t-shirts and a pair of boxers. They were entirely focused on the bowl they were carrying, and only looked up when they got close enough to hand it to him. He gently took the bowl, looked into it and saw it was one of his prep meals. While not his favorite breakfast, he knew he just needed to eat first, so he started taking bites.

He glanced up every so often, and each time he did, his partner was just sitting there and watching him eat. Lando almost chuckled at his own thought that they looked just like Thunder when watching him, and he smiled into his bowl at the thought. His partner didn’t see his smile, but he continued to eat until he had finished the bowl.

When he was done eating, he set the bowl down, and his partner again pulled him up by the crook of his arm. He just let them do so, having a thought of what was going to happen next.

His partner led them both down the hallway to their bedroom, and opened the door, leading him to sit on their bed, then they turned around and went to close their blinds and draw their black-out curtains to cover up the sunlight from the window. They had turned on their bedside lamp earlier, and the soft orange glow of the lamp permeated the room. They walked past him again, going to close the door after letting Thunder in, then they walked back to their side of the bed, and pulled him to lie down against them.

As he settled against their chest, he felt a bit odd, it being a bit of a difference to feel how much he was loved by them. How much they cared for him. And he finally spoke again, “Thank you.”

“Always, Lan. Always.” They replied, pressing a kiss to his hair.

And for the first time in days, he let himself sleep.

author's note: got inspired to actually write something for once...ty @koalapastries for the inspiration (unknowing inspiration but ty) (also sorry for using your layout outline

comments & reblogs appreciated

and i made the dividers :)

[constantcrying]

Ersatz, baby

m!shape-shifter!yandere x gn!reader. 4k words. yes. I'm so sorry.

TW: Obsession, possessive thoughts and behaviors, mentions of violence, gore, consumption of humans, idk how to tag it but the shape-shifter eats humans and has considered eating the reader so like heads up about that

Heeeeey

Somebody PLEASE tell me if the length of this piece is detrimental to the experience of reading it it’s like 4k words. Here’s something I’ve been kicking around for ages. Frankly I am shocked I have something at all after a year

“Odd couple” is the best way to describe the friendship between you and Sasha. You’re awkward and responsible and outwardly boring. He’s highly social, wild, and intriguing. You’re genuine to a fault. He’s an expert in facades; he is a facade. You’re human and he’s something utterly not.

The freak accident of affection between you two is...still hard for him to wrap his head around. It seems to be your fault. If you weren’t so pitifully earnest toward him he would have just gotten rid of you. You were aware of his true nature, and definitely scared of it, but you kept going out of your way to be the Good Roommate™, to play friends. He had to let you live, just to see what the fuck your deal is. Now it’s too late. Now he wants you around.

You are the only person in the world that he has shown his real body to.

Some of his victims have seen it, but you’re the first person he intended to see it. The decision was quiet, perhaps a little impulsive. A simple exchange of “What are you, Sasha?” and “I don’t know. Wanna see?” had you both going to your bedroom and locking the door.

For the first time in his life, his heart pounded as he shed his clothes. He almost didn’t want you to turn around and look. It might be better if you only knew the carefully curated version of him, the handsome appearance he painstakingly crafted for the easiest social life. Even though you already knew he wasn’t human and pretended it didn’t matter, what if you saw him now and knew with absolute certainty that you didn’t want to look at him ever again? He would have to swallow you whole. He wasn’t sure if he could do it.

Regardless he said, “turn around.”

He showed you the unvarnished form that he had inherited from his mother. To be frank: It’s a predator’s body. Worse that that, it’s a monster’s. There are features and junctures of him so uncanny it must hurt the logical mind to observe them. If you were ever looking for the perfect rebuttal to the existence of a loving God, look no further than his cruel mouth.

He crept onto you bed looking like this, towering over you, your bed-frame screaming to protest the weight. He’d have to cut you off at the source, if you were to scream. And though he could smell the fear wafting from your skin, could practically feel the constricting blood vessels and tightening muscles in you, you still asked him, “Hey, is it more comfortable? Do you prefer being like this?”

Honestly? He isn’t sure there’s a body that’s comfortable and natural to him anymore. He’s so used to a human state that anything else feels awkward, even when it’s easier to shift to. As you took his massive claws into your hands and examined them with gentle curiosity, though, he was struck by the warmth of you. It was a long time since anyone had really touched him. It might’ve been even longer for you, loner that you are. Which meant you were the only person who could understand the way he felt in that moment.

He flopped over next to you, letting out an embarrassing dog-like whine, but you just laughed sweetly, and shifted pillows around to accommodate his bigger size. His feet and tail still dangled awkwardly off the bed. “You can relax in here,” you said. “You’re always welcome, since you’re my friend.”

You rambled about your classes and professors until all the adrenaline had left your system. He didn’t say much in response, but you didn’t mind. After a while, you could almost meet his preternatural gaze. You even dozed off like this, with a monster beside you, you utter weirdo. He put his head closer to your chest and felt your sleeping breaths for hours, thinking that your throat would be butter-soft under his teeth.

Sasha knows very little about what he really wants. He’s not sure if he’ll stay in his major, or in school, or even in human society. He knows for certain, though, that he wants more time to study you. He wants just your quiet voice and humble body heat and the understanding that, whatever he is, it isn’t going to chase you away.

So you two keep doing this. Every few days he’ll skulk over to where you are and make room for himself, and the two of you will talk for hours. Sometimes he shifts. He doesn’t always want to, but you get more comfortable with him that way. You...seem more keen to pet him when he looks and acts like an animal, and he wants you to touch him so bad he’s worried he’ll start asking for it. Could he ever live it down, if he started asking to be coddled? No. So he wags his tail and butts his head against you like that isn’t it’s own special brand of pathetic.

It’s not like you’re one to judge, though. You’re just so happy to have a friend that comes to hang out with you. You’ve never had very many of those, but of course Sasha knows he’s extra special. There’s much he’s learned about the world from his strange perspective, and you’re always excited to listen to his stories.

You do understand that he needs to eat a lot. You see him clear out four bacon cheeseburgers as a snack once, and he cracks jokes about how breakfast was red bull and adderall, but you know that it’s just a part of his biology that works against him. So you go out of your way to cook more meat, and give him bigger portions than anyone else, ignoring the way your blatant favoritism must look to the other roommates and occasional visitors. He doesn’t bother explaining that your idea of a big meal is like his idea of an appetizer, and he never will.

He doesn’t talk about the people he eats, either. He’s starting to think you don’t realize he does that.

(If you really don’t know, if this is the way you treat him when you don’t know, there’s no fucking way he can tell you.)

As for you, you talk about your courses and your classmates. From the way you talk around it, he’s mostly figured out the sad shape of your childhood and he decides that’s why you’re so weird and naive.

Mostly, you tell him about your hobbies, and your taste in TV shows. That’s when something in you is unlocked, revealing you to be more witty and giggly than your initial impression. It’s gratifying to know most other people don’t discover that side of you, like being the only prospector who knows where gold is. You tell him about everything you used to watch and play with your best friend, back when she had time for you. He’s a little confused by just how fervently you love things, how you start to care one day and then never, ever stop.

He never did it before, but now the two of you watch garbage TV together. (You tried to invite your best friend to join you, but to Sasha’s satisfaction, she gave you that cringing sort of smile and told you she didn’t have time.) Every Friday comes a new episode of Crater County, this schlocky supernatural police procedural, so every Thursday night you ask him to watch it with you. He’s a busy man, of course, but he’ll fit it into his schedule since he knows you so look forward to it.

This Thursday you must have forgot.

Somehow, in the early morning on Friday, you slip away without Sasha noticing. He wakes up to the honks of geese and distant cars, and the ever-present hum of electricity. As he thinks of pestering you to make ham and eggs, just to watch you get annoyed, he notices the conspicuous lack of your heartbeat.

He knows better than to doubt his hearing. But he still goes into your room across the hall to find the bed unmade and unoccupied. He almost goes to check your pillow for warmth, only stopping when he realizes it’s...stupid, to do that. He stays in the doorway for a long moment, overly-conscious of your scent. Then he goes to pace in the empty kitchen.

It hadn’t occurred to you to say goodbye to him, or leave him a portion of breakfast as you usually do, so you must have been in a hurry. Distantly, he remembers your fast food job. You probably got called to cover for someone at the last minute. Even so, shouldn’t you have said something to him? So that he wouldn’t wonder? Because he’s—

—well, you called him your friend.

It bothers him the more he thinks about it, while he showers and gets coffee and goes to class. The two of you haven’t talked since Monday and it feels weird. You always tell him when you’re going out, so what happened? Where can he even find you?

Not that he would need to find you. Sasha isn’t clingy. Clingy is his ex making alt account after alt account to pester him on instagram with stupid questions like, “are you seriously trying to ghost me you asshole?” And Sasha isn’t doing that. He hasn’t even texted you yet, because you haven’t texted him, and you always text first. If you don’t go through with the trouble of asking for him, he absolutely will not bother coming.

You haven’t sent so much as a “hey!” in the last seventeen times that he’s checked, so. Guess you guys aren’t hanging out. Whatever. It’s not like he doesn’t have stuff to do. He’s behind on several classes, a habitual skipper, and there are four other people begging him to come out tonight. He hasn’t hunted in a while so he should probably do that too.

He should go and talk to other humans, re-acquire their speech patterns and body language. He should catch himself when he makes gestures you would make, stop himself from making them. That’s why he goes to lunch with a friend group he met last month, and fits in with them seamlessly—or, almost seamlessly. No one can say he isn’t a good talker, slick as oil and quick with comebacks, but he’s a little more sensitive than usual today. While he’s in the middle of charming them he slips up and says something you would say.

“Isn’t that a Crater County reference you just made?” One girl says to him, stopping the conversation cold. “I thought you hated nerdy stuff like that.”

Sasha laughs shortly. “What? Says who?”

“Says you. You laughed at someone’s Supernatural tattoo at the party, remember?”

“It was a fucking horrendous tattoo. And I don’t like Crater Country or whatever, either, I just know some lines because my,” his throat feels like a desert, but he continues, “my roommate is obsessed with that shit.”

They brush over that thought soon enough, shifting focus to upcoming concerts, but Sasha can’t get comfortable again. He feels like he forgot how eyes work, and his are going to slip and turn reptilian in the middle of this well-populated restaurant. He’s scared his hands are going to morph into paws. In the end, he excuses himself before he can finish his meal.

Since he’s still quite hungry, Sasha decides he’ll drop by the butcher and get a few pounds of beef chuck to tide him over until dark. He’ll go to that fancy shop with all the grass-fed cruelty-free organic stuff, because he’s passionate about the well-fare of livestock, and definitely not because it’s just down the street from your job.

But since he’s there, anyway, he’ll pass by and peek through the windows to see what’s happening there.

Your restaurant is packed. A sports team, or special event or something, has filled every table in sight, and more people queue up at the register. You’re boxing fries and passing them over to waiting customers’ trays. Even though you’ve got mountains of food to work through, you’re smiling. It takes only a few seconds to find out why, following the arc of your eye up to a man in the same uniform as you.

The guy is tall and average-looking, and he keeps leaning toward you to talk like he doesn’t know how to speak loudly even though he works in a goddamn kitchen. Sasha doesn’t know him by face, or by word of mouth, since you’ve never told him about a co-worker that can make you giggle so much.

Why hadn’t you told Sasha about the funniest man of the century, huh?

More importantly, why hadn’t you noticed the way this asshole was looking at you? Staring so intently, exaggerating his expressions, mirroring you. All the same tricks Sasha has used before but with none of the grace, and yet somehow you liked it from this guy when Sasha had seemed scary to you.

He just can’t understand. That wouldn’t be such a problem if he hadn’t believed that he did understand you, and the way your mind worked. You had said Sasha was your friend and you had sat in the truth with him, relieved to see him for what he truly was, and you had been asking after his health and his happiness, wasting nights with him, cooking for him, cuddling up with him, and now here you were forgetting about his existence with another friend that he didn’t know about.

Sasha has been cheated on by a partner in the past. They left him one night and came back in the wee hours smelling like a fresh shower, with traces of someone else’s odor still clinging to them. It hadn’t felt like anything, to know that they were sneaking behind his back. Not a betrayal, no sting or ache in the heart he supposedly had. He broke up with them a week after, and that, like all his other breakups, was simply annoying. Sasha had always felt like he wasn’t with any of the people he was with. He was watching them, and touching them, and living among them, but there was some kind of invisible barrier between him and all the world. So when they broke a connection, well, what was there to even break? How could he care?

And why did being cheated on come to mind when he saw you happy with some other guy?

Sasha would later find out that you pulled a twelve hour shift that day, and, pushover that you were, you didn’t take a break long enough to check your phone. But he doesn’t stay to watch you, he really couldn’t. A pit had formed in his stomach, some void, some black hole that he had to attend to.

He leaves you there in your job and your apparent fun, none the wiser, and goes to the butcher. He gets himself a rack of ribs, and a few pounds of steak, and a heart just because the shop had one on hand and they were happy to serve a customer with such deep pockets as him. He gets a couple of cheeseburgers for the ride home and finishes them in a few bites.

As soon as he knows your other roommates aren’t home, he tears into the paper packaging of the prepared meats and gorges himself over the kitchen sink, soiling his shirt with myoglobin. It all tastes like ash, disappearing into him the way so many things do. When he’s done, when every last shred of flesh and sliver of bone has been swallowed, his stomach growls.

He’s always been this empty. Maybe that was the thing you saw that made you so afraid upon first meeting him—the bottomless trench that he actually was.

You said he was your friend. You knew what he was and didn’t back away. But you have so little else in your life. If you gained anything more, real friends, real family, a lover, wouldn’t someone as hollow and alien as Sasha be easily discarded?

There’s nothing for it. He has to go and hunt now.

Your co-worker is pitifully easy to discover. By checking the likes on your posts, he finds the creep has been hounding you for three weeks now. His unmitigated social media addiction leaves the entirety of his existence splatter across the internet. Sasha learns and forgets his name. He knows exactly what place he’ll be at tonight, with whom, for how long. He shifts to look exactly like you, heads out and stops at the right street corner with a bulky gym bag, waiting.

It’s so easy. Sasha can play You, but this guy hardly deserves all that effort. It’s enough to show up magically with your face, even if your clothes and piercings seem out of place. All Sasha has to do is bat lashes and flash a smile that he has already memorized—your stupid sincere grin that had made you, like the sun, difficult to look at directly—and this idiot thinks the person in front of him is really you, out on the same night by coincidence. He’s happy to see you, and happier still that you want to go somewhere together. He lets Sasha take him by the hand, convinced that the two of you are going out for drinks through innocuously empty backstreets. It doesn’t strike him as weird that you’re so energetic and flirty all of a sudden. Asshole.

He at least has the decency to carry the bag, no doubt hoping to come off as a gentleman.

“Why a duffel bag, anyway?” He marvels.

“To change clothes before I go home, silly,” Sasha tells him, leading him further into the night.

It turns out the co-worker is deeply uncomfortable with silence. He cracks jokes that aren’t funny, to which Sasha politely chuckles for what is only ten minutes but feels like an hour.

“When you kept turning me down,” he says, predictably, “I was worried you had a boyfriend or something.”

“Why would I not tell you if I had a boyfriend?” Sasha croons in your voice, fighting with all his will-power to not crush your co-worker’s hand. They’re finally on a quiet street, between two condemned houses, where there are no cameras and no pedestrians.

“Haha, I don’t know. You’re like, really private. That roommate you talk about all the time? The one going to the same school? I honestly feel like I know more about her than I know about you.”

“You mean, ‘him’? Sasha?” Sasha blinks owlishly with your eyes, his heart melting a little when he imagines you gushing about him to other people.

The guy laughs nervously. “No, I mean Maya. Is Sasha another roommate? Have you mentioned her before?”

Really. Maya. That “best friend” who basically pretends you don’t exist, who takes up valuable real estate in your mind when some people who have spent months getting to know you don’t even get a text.

Sasha gives up on looking friendly.

Your co-worker has finally sensed something is off, wincing as he tugs his hand out of Sasha’s vice-grip. Stretching out his fingers, he asks, “Hey, how much farther ‘til we get there? I swear we’ve passed like, three bars already...”

He doesn’t get to say more because Sasha lets out his teeth and goes for the throat.

It must be said that a warm meal always beats a cold one, but other that that it’s a shitty fare, gristly and lacking in flavor. This guy’s blood, fresh from the veins, is flat and forgettable. Even the marrow of his bones disappoints. At least he didn’t put up a fight...though maybe some enrichment could have saved this boring dinner.

Sasha feels more bloated than full when it’s all over. He wipes down and changes into fresh clothes, stuffing all the bloody garments into the duffel bag. He still feels kinda gross, and considers a long, hot shower while picking muscle fibers from between his teeth.

Are you going to worry about your co-worker? Are you going to miss him? Will you cry if they identify his blood on clothes found in the dump? Will you even tell Sasha why you’re crying?

Sasha snaps out of his deep thoughts when his phone buzzes. The text from you reads:

hey! i forgot to ask, are you on for crater county tonight?

What the fuck. Renewed frustration flushes through his system. What is he, your backup plan? He has a life—actually, many more lives than you! You should know better than to screw around with his time. He shouldn’t even dignify your bullshit with a response, but he does anyway—

At a party

And your answer is,

oh ok

we’ll watch it some other time

have fun!

…

Stay safe ok! Call me if you need something

It’s such a low blow he has to wonder if you’re doing it on purpose: you’re telling him all the same things he’s heard you tell Maya when she blows you off. He can hear the disappointment and embarrassment in your voice, the way you assure her of your eternal affection and concern while she practically dismisses you. Once he’s imagining your face, then, all he wants in the world is to look at it.

He’s a good runner. He’s barely out of breath when he arrives home, tossing aside his sweaty hoodie and kicking off his shoes while he quietly closes the door behind him. The dishwasher is running. He can just make out the low moan of the central air system, and one lazy heart thumping in the living room.

For a moment you don’t notice that Sasha is there. He gets to watch you quietly. You’re languishing on the couch in your bedclothes, staring blankly at the No Signal screen on the TV with a bowl of popcorn untouched on the coffee table. It surprises him. He hasn’t seen you with an expression this dull in a while.

But it disappears in an instant.

“Sasha!” You bolt upright, your face brightening like the sky at dawn when you find him standing in the doorway. “Did the party end already?”

He doesn’t know what to say.

You glance back at the TV. “Um, I swear I wasn’t going to watch without you! I was just…”

“Were you waiting for me?” He asks.

Your expression flickers, betraying the anxiety in your eyes before you have the chance to look away. Why did he even bother to ask? You’re here for him, like a puppy waiting for their owner, and suddenly he’s flushed and queasy—no, it’s not sickness that he feels, it’s butterflies. He’s so delighted he feels dumb, all of his frustration and embarrassing angst vanishing in an instant because all he can think of is how sweet you are.

“Ah,” he laughs dryly. “I’m screwed.”

Before you even know to cry out, he’s thrown himself at you, arms coiling around your waist. The two of you fall back on the couch.

When you get your bearings, you scold him. “Sasha, don’t just do that! You scared me!”

He mumbles, “I had a bad day.”

“...you did?” Your left hand cups his head, almost protectively, and your right strokes his back. “What happened? You’re not hurt, right? Are you hungry? I have some stuff in the fridge—”

“Can we just stay like this?” He asks.

“U-um. Well...” You must be thinking of your other roommates, who could walk in on this scene and “misunderstand” the relationship you have with him. You don’t want to cause weird rumors or tension. But he wants you so much he can’t pretend to be above it anymore. He squeezes you just a little bit, betraying his own desperation, so you say tenderly, “Of course we can.”

It’s scary to be honest. Sasha considers it contrary to his nature. However, he has never in his life avoided adapting or transforming to get what he wants. If he has to bare himself again to endear himself to you, he’ll do it.

“You’re the best friend I have,” he admits, “and I didn’t see you all day, and I missed you.”

Your heart quickens. “Sasha…”

“I know I’m being clingy. I just can’t help it. Say you missed me too. Say I matter to you.”

“I did miss you,” you murmur, your smile bleeding into your voice. You pull him closer. “It feels wrong when we don’t talk all day. And I worry about you, you know. I never see you make a proper meal.”

“I like it better when you make it. So keep cooking for me. Please.”

“I was going to do that anyway,” you say.

His whole body thrums with satisfaction. You care about him so much he can feel it all the way through. He’s soaking up your warmth and savoring your smell, face pressed into your neck. Twisting his hands into your shirt, he finds that he resents your clothes. He even resents your flesh and bones for barring direct access to your heart. Right now, though, he’s almost content with a body in his grasp, a pulse fluttering under his lips.

God help him, he’s been starving for this.

[thewondrousdreamer]

Im properly gonna get hate for this but I need to get this out there. As a Gojo lover and self-shipper I’d like to take a minute to explain how Satoru is so mischaracterized by his fan girls and how you SatoSugu shippers and the jjk fandom as a whole really get on my nerves. Disclaimer even tho im not a SatoSugu shipper I’m not hating on the ship just the fandom. And I don’t want to hear “she only hates SatoSugu bc she ships herself with Gojo. 😡” When in reality I hate all jjk ships bc wtf is Gojo X Megumi & Gojo X Itadori??? First off Gojo RAISED Megumi and his sister like a FATHER. He was their GUARDIAN since they were little kids. Secondly they’re minors Megumi and Itadori are literally 15 and some of y’all are shipping them with a 29 year old man??? That’s crazy and disgusting. Some of y’all are even shipping him with Sukuna the person who killed him and had y’all crying. I don’t even know how that ship makes sense tbh. Satoru is a tragically written character. He was a person with good morals, dreams and ambitions. Ever since he popped out of the womb he was forced to be the strongest bc of his gifts. He didn’t even get to have a childhood bc of that burden. Satoru has witnessed lots of deaths and has more blood on his hands then necessary AND he lost his best friend the person who really understood him the most. Satoru felt alone bc no one tried to get to know him as a person and not just as the strongest. No one even had the Human decency to even once ask him was he okay or even how his day was going. I’m honestly surprised he didn’t do what Geto did and turn villainous bc no one saw him as a person, not his colleagues/peers AND DEFINITELY not his fangirls. He died for sticking to his beliefs and morals. He died trying to protect people and properly felt weak bc not only was he forgotten by his students but his sacrifice wasn’t even acknowledged. He didn’t even really get a burial. But when season 2 came out some y’all really made Satoru’s entire personality about Suguru, His BEST FRIEND. Like I get it, Satoru and Suguru had great chemistry and went well together. They were fire & ice, yin & yang but I honestly don’t see them as nothing more than brothers not to mention the ship is not only overhyped but also over sexualized and it’s fandom is toxic. Like some of you guys are literally on twitter arguing and sending death threats to people who simply don’t like the ship. And are telling other Gojo lovers to off themselves bc they ship him with themselves or their OC’s and it’s not even that deep fr. And don’t even get me started on what some of y’all are doing to the Gojo figurines…. Absolutely disgusting💀. Then you guys literally read the manga and watch the anime not for the plot but just to prove to everyone that Satoru is gay and that it should be canon or just bc Satoru is pretty and y’all see him as ‘daddy 🤢.’ Satoru is also over sexualized for no reason everywhere I go there’s fan art of him sucking off or being balls deep in Suguru or someone either (A. Doing some twisted period blood ritual to his figurine or (B. Someone on tumblr is posting on the ENTIRE INTERNET how badly they want Satoru down their throat with his nut sack against their chin. some of y’all need to touch grass fr bc honestly wtf. It’s the same thing with SatoSugu it’s so sexualized for no reason. If it’s not freaky fanart of them it’s again, more tumblr post of the freaky positions Suguru would have Satoru in bc Satoru is a bottom apparently. I’m not hating on bl or gay ships but like why are they so sexualized? Especially by straight people, straight women to be exact. And not every thing needs to have ships or be gay. Satoru is so stripped out of his character not only bc he’s pretty but bc y’all took his bond with Suguru and made it in to something else entirely. Like why can’t two women or two men be best friends without getting shipped together? This happens in real life friendships too. Not only does this ruin the friendship but it takes away from the characters personality. Being in this fandom is tiring and just not fun.