#those are just words but they stay with you forever

[lordprettyflackotara]

what a heavenly way to die || the proxies

‘forever is in your eyes, but forever ain’t half the time’

sum: after being stranded in the middle of a snow storm, you’re forced to take shelter with masky, hoodie, and toby. you need to stay warm, by any means necessary

tw:SMUT, FILTHY, LONG, AGGRESSIVE SMUT, foursome kinda? idk?, sub!reader, soft dom!masky, hard dom!hoodie, sub!toby, gun play, overstimulation, exhibitionism, lowkey throat fucking, praise, humiliation, power dynamics lowkey do be in place

a/n: FOR ALL OF MY OG HITCHHIKER BABIES <3

“But I don’t wanna wear gloves!”

“Toby if you don’t wear gloves, your fingers are gonna fall off.”

Masky’s voice was hoarse, his patience thinning the longer he walked. Not even a fresh cigarette could make this situation any better. Only some shit like this would happen to him.

On the way back from an assignment the car ran out of gas, courtesy of allowing Hoodie to drive for more than five minutes. Now with the tank on E, the four of you were stranded in the middle of no where. Snow fell from the sky, coating each of you more and more by the second. Hoodie seemed perfectly content with his offense, minus the occasional shiver. Toby couldn’t comprehend the need to wear so many layers, the kid practically fighting for the right to freeze to death. Masky found himself silently regretting his choice of a mask, his gaze landing on you.

Normally he discounted your presence, you being the newest member of the group. But he’d be lying to himself if he shrugged you off. Although you had only been around for a few years now, for such a tiny little thing you sure pulled your weight. He never thought much of you at first, your small stature and loud mouth telling him everything he could ever want to know. But over the years of enslavement together you simmered down, sometimes more quiet than Hoodie. Masky could deal with his silence, having been dragged into this shit show by his hand.

But you? He couldn’t handle it.

His dark gaze landed on you, looming over your shaking form like a dark cloud. You always wore skimpy clothing, even if not practical. This happened to be one of those times, your skirt riding up your thighs and knee high socks failing to conceal the goosebumps that littered your skin. “Cold, kid?” Masky asked, ignoring his own shaky fingertips as he took a drag of his cigarette. The four of you had been hiking for what felt like hours, more and more of your limbs becoming numb by the second. “T-Told ya life wasn’t a f-fashion show,” Toby chimed in, clearly enjoying the weather.

“Can it, you ticking time bomb,” Masky interjected, frowning. He noted the way you avoided his gaze, as if you were afraid of judgment. But why? You had never given a shit about his opinion before. He grunted to himself as he shrugged off his signature mustard jacket, forcefully shoving it on your shoulders.

“But you’ll freeze-”

“Put it on and don’t bitch about it.”

His voice was stern and full of authority, threatening you to question it. His mask hid his satisfied expression as he watched you put it on. “Any plans here boss? Or do we plan on camping out here?” Hoodie asked sarcastically. It was in moments like these Masky was thankful the two of them wore mask, his distain written all over his face. “We just need to keep heading south like boss ordered,” Masky huffed, blowing cigarette smoke out into the cold night air. Tensions were arising quickly, the freezing cold fizzling out any trust that had been formed.

“Head south? Are you on crack or delusional? Toby’s fingers are so frost bitten they’re about to snap off and the kid is so fuckin cold i’m surprised she’s able to stand at all,” Hoodie barked, his words laced with venom. Masky didn’t like to go off schedule. He didn’t like to piss off The Operator. If it were him and him alone, he’d continue walking south until he either made it or The Operator himself found him. However, as his eyes raked in the sight of his companions, he realized Hoodie was right.

“Fine, we’ll have a sleepover. Follow me. I saw smoke over this way,” Masky agreed reluctantly, tossing his cigarette bud carelessly onto the ground. Toby began to yap about Masky being a litter bug, earning him a knock upside the head from Hoodie. The silent proxy gritted his teeth, annoyed with Masky neglecting to tend to them sooner.

“You saw signs of civilization and just now told us? How long would you have let us walk before we fuckin froze to death?” Hoodie questioned, his gaze so deadly Masky could feel holes burning into his back. You awkwardly tugged his jacket closer to you, your breath shallow. “He’s k-kinda right, kinda an asshole move,” You said softly, completely exhausted from marching in a borderline snow storm. Masky’s gaze softened for a moment, before noticing Toby had taken off his gloves. “We need to get going before this dipshit loses his fingers,” Masky grumbled, shrugging off the issue at hand. The three of you trailed behind him, satisfaction washing over you as a cabin came into sight.

You weren’t an advocate for death, but you quite literally would’ve killed someone for a warm spot in that cabin. The four of you burst inside, scanning the room for any sign of human life. None of you could deny your eagerness to be warm. A small fire crackled in the background in the fireplace, providing a soft orange glow to the room. Masky gestured Toby to follow him upstairs, leaving you and Hoodie to scope out the remainder of the first floor. “Any guesses on why it’s abandoned like this?” You asked the taller proxy, avoiding his lingering gaze. Hoodie tended to be a bit unsettling sometimes, whether he meant to be or not.

“My guess? Some rich couple cut their honeymoon short and hauled ass once they saw the forecast,” Hoodie said blandly, shrugging off his ski mask. It had been a while since you had seen his face, his stubble grown out more than you could remember. “Good for us then,” You mumbled, averting your eyes. You stared at the ground so much you tended to forget what your fellow proxies faces looked like. Footsteps trampling down the stairs regained your attention, your head snapping in the direction. “Good news, place is ours. Bad news, the only heat source is that lovely fireplace right there,” Masky said, sitting down in front of the small couch. The three of you followed his lead, crowding around the tiny fireplace.

“This is your grand plan?” Hoodie questioned, his distrust visible on his face with his mask off. Masky fought the urge to light another cigarette, bringing his knees to his chest. “The fireplace as well as our body heat is enough to survive. Unless you have a better idea, be quiet,” Masky replied dryly. Toby took the opportunity to lay his head in your lap, a place he had been time and time again. You had taken on this role long ago, stroking his chestnut hair until the unpredictable ticking time bomb fell asleep. Tonight was no exception, even as you settled in next to Masky.

You ignored the ever growing tension that sprouted with each second as your arms touched, the smell of his cologne mixed with tobacco flooding your nostrils. Tensions were ever growing as your arm brushed against his, your energies so magnetic it made you unmistakably nervous. Nervous. You never felt nervous in any other situation. But around Masky? Especially close like this? You might as well have been a flirty high school girl. Hoodie ignored the three of you, jumping over the arm of the couch and making himself comfortable. He was always reserved like that, refusing to touch any of you unless he was back handing Toby. The couch squeaked under his weight, the squeaks continuing until the older proxy got settled.

You continued to play with Toby’s hair, swirling your fingers around his scalp. “Warm enough kid?” Masky asked, his voice more rough than usual. You tried to avoid staring, noticing him taking off his mask out of the corner of your eye. You wanted nothing more than to soak in his features, especially since his mask was practically glued to his face a majority of the time. Instead you forced yourself gaze to remain forward, watching the fire flicker. “I suppose,” You mumbled, catching a knot in Toby’s hair. You refrained from cringing as you brushed it through with your fingers, thankful he couldn’t feel pain as he slept soundly. The sound of Hoodie’s soft snores put Masky a little more at ease, his next words something he wouldn’t admit to the other two men next to you.

“You were right about earlier. I was an asshole, I should’ve had us head here to begin with,” Masky admitted timidly. He didn’t like being the leader, that role automatically assigned to him like it was his birth right. What he didn’t like even more than that, was admitting that he was wrong. He expected ridicule, which he would’ve gotten if you were Hoodie or Toby. But instead you laid your head on his shoulder, nuzzling your cheek against the fabric of his sweater. “I know you were just trying to please The Operator,” You whispered. You continued playing with Toby’s hair, ensuring your hand didn’t stop. You glanced up in his direction, soaking in his thick eyebrows and awkward side burns. His chocolate eyes met yours unsurely, an eyebrow raising.

“What are you doing to me kid?” Masky grumbled, his own heart beginning to race. This was bad news, feeling this way towards you. But the orange glow against your skin had him reeling in his own skin. “You tell me boss,” You whispered back, edging your lips towards his. It caught you off guard that Masky made the first move, planting his lips against yours. His lips were as chapped as yours, his taste a recognized mixture of mint and cigarettes. You melted under his touch, eagerly kissing him back. He was intoxicating, his large hand slipping into your hair.

You could feel your core throbbing with desire, your cheeks flushing pink as you realized this. Being a proxy didn’t exactly equate a productive sex life, your body longing for the touch of another human. You couldn’t get enough of his lips, his desperation. It was just as passionate as yours, both of you longing for human compassion. You shuddered as his large hand slithered down to your thigh, your legs parting instantly. His cold fingertips trailed up your sensitive skin, tracing your skin teasingly. You held back a soft groan, Masky eager to hear you make sinful noise for him. He was so close to your core, your body shuddering at the idea-

“What the fuck are you two doing?”

Hoodies voice was sharp, abruptly interrupting your lustful daze. Love affairs between proxies was forbidden, a strict rule made clear to you by The Operator. While he gave the same speech to Kate, he knew that her feralness would unintentionally have her follow his rule to a T. You, however, were semi more mentally stable, with a knack for fashion and semi put together appearances. For the first time you saw panic across Masky’s eyes, causing you to clear your throat. “Sharing body warmth obviously, you cold Hoodie?” You asked, the lie leaving your lips before you had time to consider the repercussions. For a second you could’ve swore you saw a glimpse of Brian, a playful smirk crawling up his lips.

Your hand abandoned Toby’s hair, grabbing a handful of Hoodies coat to drag him closer to you. You managed to spare a moment of hesitation, dragging his lips to clash into yours. You were tense at first, unsure what the proxy would do. You were surprised to feel him meet your desperation all the same, the nagging realization of his similar loneliness crashing over you. Teeth clashed with teeth, his desperation resulting in a deeper kiss than you expected. You found yourself getting even more flushed, knowing Masky’s eyes were burning into yours. He took the opportunity to press his hand against your core, noting how damp your panties were already.

“You’re gonna wake the kid up,” Hoodie grunted, reluctant to pull away from your lips to begin with. Masky rubbed against your swollen slick, earning a small whimper from you. “I’m a-a-already up,” Toby said groggily, sitting up. You avoided his gaze as he soaked in the sinful sight in front him, Masky’s hand on your cunt and Hoodie’s lips mere centimeters from yours. You swallowed, your core throbbing at the idea of taking all three of them at once. After all, you had to convince yourself you weren’t lying. This entanglement was nothing more than an exchange of body heat, a way to keep warm.

Right?

You turned your head towards Toby swallowing nervously as you leaned forward to kiss him. It caught him off guard, his light grey cheeks forming a tint of pink as he matched your actions. Two sets of large hands rearranged you as you lost yourself into the kiss, your ass in the air as your skirt got flipped up. “Fuck,” Masky mumbled, his cold hand sending goosebumps across your skin. You could hear Hoodie moving on the couch, causing you to pull away from sucking on Toby’s bottom lip. The clinking of his belt fully caught your attention, your eyebrows raised. “Do you um, not wanna be warm?” You asked slowly. A pang of embarrassment shot through you, a creeping worry of his lack of desire for you arising. The taller proxy smirked, unzipping his jeans.

“I just wanna watch you get knocked down a few pegs, now go on and kiss Masky again,” Hoodie ordered, palming himself through his jeans. You turned to Masky, cheeks flushed red and heart pounding as you met his gaze. His pupils were blown with lust, his face in the softest state you had ever seen it. You met his lips eagerly, obeying Hoodies demand. Toby took the opportunity to come up behind you, his cold hands slipping under your shirt. Your hand slithered its way down to Masky’s crotch, palming his hard boner. You were satisfied to hear a small groan claw its way out of his throat, your lips eagerly swallowing it. You arched your back as Toby’s curious fingertips found their way to your breast, squeezing harshly at your perky nipples.

“N-No bra? You’re just d-d-dying to get fucked huh?” Toby snickered. Goosebumps trailed down your spine as you whimpered, nibbling on Masky’s bottom lip. Your eyes slowly fluttered open, soaking in his facial expression. “Let me suck you off,” You whispered, biting the inside of your cheek as Toby harshly twisted your left nipple. Masky seemed at a loss of words, something that rarely occurred to him. He looked over you, eyeing a mischievous Toby. “Hey kid, make yourself useful and let her ride your face,” He said, his words laced with authority. You couldn’t ignore the warmth that spread over you as Toby laid on his back, nuzzling himself between your knees.

“Sit back on his face princess,” Hoodie ordered, pulling his cock out of his boxers. Masky clenched his jaw, having momentarily forgotten Hoodie was even there. He watched your shaky hands fiddle with his belt, slowly lowering yourself onto Toby’s eager mouth. You nervously glanced down at the younger proxy, licking your dry lips. “You can uh, touch yourself you know, or something,” You offered unsurely, feeling him shove your panties to the side with his cold fingertips. Masky placed his hand on the back of your head, gently reminding you to focus. “He’ll figure it out kid, stop worryin’ so much,” Masky grumbled. You continued to focus on undressing him, whimpering as you felt Toby’s warm tongue dart in between your folds.

“This is taking way too fuckin long. Let’s speed things up shall we?” Hoodie asked, his cock already exposed and in hand. Your eyes widened as he took out his hand gun, clicking off the safety. “Get to sucking princess,” Hoodie barked. Toby continued to lap at your folds, his tongue messily flicking your clit. “Are you out of your goddamn mind? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Masky argued. His attention was diverted once you took him in your mouth, eagerly bobbing your head up and down on his hard cock. Hoodie smirked at your reaction, noting the way your thighs squeezed Toby’s head harder. “Look at her Mask. You think a girl like us isn’t into some freaky shit? Now shut up and enjoy it,” Hoodie snickered, stroking himself to the sight.

Toby was eager, his hand pumping his own shaft as he devoured your cunt. He couldn’t get enough of your taste, his soft groans muffled by your soaked folds. Your hips involuntarily grinded against his face, your own moans sending vibrations around Masky’s cock. The brunette tried to hide his own sinful noises, but you taking him to the base cancelled out any possibility of him being able to do so. His hand grabbed a handful of your hair, assertively guiding you up and down his cock. Hoodie couldn’t get enough of the sinful sight, your knees digging into the hard wood as you struggled to hold yourself up. He wouldn’t stop watching even if the world collapsed.

Meanwhile Masky was struggling to hold on, having spent years and years with his hand as his only companion. Your mouth was so warm and wet, your throat only making it harder to resist cumming right then and there. “Fuck kid, you’re gonna be the death of me,” He grunted, feeling your tongue swirl around his tip. Your eyes were already flooded with tears, your gaze meeting his as you deep throated him. It was embarrassing to Masky how fast he knew he was going to cum, your sweet face only bringing him closer to the edge. Hoodie noted this as well, noticing the way Masky’s hips began slowly stuttering. A sadistic thought came to mind, one that he knew would ensure a good time for every party involved.

Your orgasm was approaching quickly, your thighs squeezing Toby’s head so tightly you were almost worried about him. “Go on princess, that’s it. Ride Toby’s face like the good whore you are,” Hoodie purred, stroking himself. He enjoyed watching your micro expressions, your mannerisms. The way your eyebrows furrowed when Toby licked you just right. Masky momentarily pulled out of your mouth, craving to hear your moans. Your spare hand was tugging at Toby’s hair, whimpers clawing their way out of your throat. “Fuck, feels so good T-Toby-” You whined, tilting your head back. Precum and saliva covered your swollen lips, your gaze meeting Masky’s. “Can I cum? Fuck, please let me cum,” You whined, struggling to contain yourself. Masky smirked at your request, briefly giving Hoodie a cocky glance.

“Go on kid, cum for us,” He cooed. Words couldn’t describe the satisfaction he felt as you came on Tobys face, your eyes rolling back and legs shaking. You planned to get off, a click from Hoodies gun ripping you away from your ride of euphoria. “I didn’t tell you to get off, did I? Keep riding princess,” Hoodie barked. Toby was still as eager as ever, his mouth gratefully accepting you as you lowered back down onto him. He lapped at your slick, devouring your cum. “Nobody’s stopping until everyone cums. That’s only fair, isn’t it?” Hoodie asked mockingly. You rolled your tongue out across your bottom lip, presenting yourself for Masky to use. “Masky, please, let me taste you,” You pleaded, struggling to stay upright. The overstimulation was making your body twitch, the brunette quick to shove himself back in your mouth.

Something about this, watching you be overstimulated and cumming, drove Masky feral.

He was more aggressive this time, pulling your hair and forcing your jaw to go slack. You whined as you struggled to keep up, saliva trailing down the sides of your mouth. “Such a good hole for me to use, fuck,” Masky groaned. He could feel himself coming closer to his orgasm, his hips stuttering as he thrust one final time down your throat. His warm seed made you gag as you struggled to keep him in your mouth. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you gripped his thighs, swallowing him whole. He pulled out of your mouth, watching you gulp for air. You were so pretty like this, your face fucked out and sounds nothing more than incoherent babbles. You could hear Toby’s groans growing louder as well, your thighs squeezing around his head as he came on his stomach. The three of you were spent, Toby’s tongue momentarily coming yo a pause.

The sound of Hoodies gun clicking caught all three of your attention, the taller proxy not hiding his sadistic grin. “Not all of us have cum, have we?” He asked, sending a shiver of fear and arousal down your spine. “Keep sucking princess,” He barked. His gaze landed on Toby, whose eyes were barely visible from between your thighs.

“And keep eating her out kid, I wanna see her squirm.”

[wellofdean]

tags via @ilarual: #literally this is the thing!!#Dean has not explicitly said the words ''please stop leaving''#but he has tried very hard through his actions to express that#AND!!!! CRUCIALLY!!! BECAUSE DEAN IS ACTUALLY A PRETTY GOOD VERBAL COMMUNICATOR!!#he has ALSO!!! verbally expressed his desire for Cas to stick around using OTHER words!!!#not as explicit as ''please stop leaving and stay with me'' but absolutely conveying the same sentiment#what the hell do you think ''we're stronger together'' and the whole ''cursed or not'' speech were about????#like Cas needs it to be more clear than that to Get It bc he does not understand how his constant absence HURTS#but Dean does not want to BE more explicit than he already is#bc he feels like he's been VERY direct on the subject already#he literally told Cas he needs him. TWICE. and has prayed that he needs him there with them at least once that I can recall#Dean thinks he's been EXTREMELY explicitly clear already!!!#and that Cas is constantly leaving bc despite hearing Dean's tacit request to stay Cas is REFUSING that request and doesn't WANT to stay#he keeps asking and getting rebuffed WHY would he be louder and needier about it when he thinks all it's going to get him#is the emotional equivalent of a slap to the face?#in no universe is Dean going to ask for something louder when from his POV he's already been begging for it and being refused like????#this is one of those cases where neither of them is actually doing anything wrong#Dean is communicating perfectly fine it's just Cas is autistic and missing some subtext#Cas isn't wrong for prioritizing his missions when he doesn't understand that Dean wants him there as much as he wants to be there#they're just talking past each other and a deeper conversation or two would fix this problem for them#they just don't realize that conversation is necessary#bc Dean thinks he's been heard and understood and Cas is politely declining his request for more time together#and Cas is unaware that that's something Dean has been asking for at varying volume levels for years#and instead bc of his trauma feels compelled to ''earn'' his place in the family with feats of strength so to speak#no one is at fault for their emotional needs not being met it's just a miscommunication#unfortunately the fandom focuses super hard on only one part of that equation and thus the takes on it are so often Bad™#and ignore Cas's motivations and role as a complex actor with his own trauma and emotional issues and blind spots#anyway they're losers I adore them both <3#spn

OMG thank you. NO ONE IS AT FAULT FOR THEIR EMOTIONAL NEEDS NOT BEING MET.

I love them both so much, and they are so fucking hapless about this one particular thing: they are in love and Chuck keeps fucking with them.

And you are so right, @ilaurel, that Cas's motivations and traumas and complexities are ignored by so much of the fandom. I, an inveterate Dean enjoyer, who thinks Dean is a darling who has never committed a wrong that couldn't be forgiven if he just makes his bewildered wet eyes sad face, cannot understand why we gotta PICK ONE? Like, can't an autistic trauma survivor who's just learning the ropes on this whole 'free will' thing, and who's in love with god's favourite boytoy make a mistake here and there? Can we just give him a fucking break because his heart is the right place? By which I mean in Dean's lap?? If Dean and Cas can forgive each other, can't we just let them both be beautiful fuck ups and love them both?

Personally, I forgive them both their trespasses and hope they get to make out forever in a million beautiful hereafters.

on a realer note i do think people forget that a huge part of the destiel equation is that cas won’t stay. like yeah we focus a lot on the fact that dean won’t ask him to, but cas never sticking around is a huge factor there

[y2kas13]

Can She Stay? (Paige B. x reader)

Paige b. x dads best friend's daughter!reader

Summary: Paige goes with her dad to his best friend's house meets his daughter and quickly becomes close.

cw: fluff, rizzler paige lol, spicy but no smut, reader isn't given a set race or weight just mentions of curly hair and being on the 'thicker side' but nothing too defining y/n used srry

a/n: (I wrote this months ago and never knew how to finish so I’m gonna post it how it is if you wnat a continuation I definitely will) I'm actually from and live in CT so I'm gonna use the name of a college from here for realism its not important tho so don't worry lol thank you for tuning in to my poll for those who interacted this is technically my 2nd fic on Tumblr but my other one sucked and flopped 😭 so hopefully this is better. I appreciate interaction!

Paige was a go-getter, constantly up and running ready to take on the day and do what needed to be done.

Needless to say, she didn't want to get out of bed and go with her dad to sit around and listen to old dad jokes for the next few hours.

She loves her dad, but after weeks of training and hard work, she wants to mindlessly scroll on her phone and eat some well-deserved junk food.

"Come on Paige it'll be fun I promise it'll be worth your while. watch you'll have so much fun you won't wanna leave! now come on Paige!" Hearing her dad have so much enthusiasm trumps her feelings of wanting to stay home. She changes out of her pajamas into black loose-fitting sweatpants and a white crop-top she puts her slides on and gets in her dad's car and falls asleep.

Feeling the car come to a stop makes her open her eyes and see that they are presumably at her dad's friend's house. She rubs her eyes and stretches to wake her up. She hops out of the car and walks up to the door after her dad.

Before her dad can even finish knocking a man who looks the same age as her dad opens the door. "Bob! there you are old timer hurry up the game is coming on." He ushers them in and both Paige and her dad hurry inside.

Paige takes in the living room while her dad and his friend playfully banter with each other. Before Paige can open her mouth to say anything she hears soft footsteps coming toward the living room which causes her to look up.

"Dad, what's all that noise?"

Paige sees probably one of the prettiest girls she's seen in a while. Beautiful curly hair held out of her face by a simple headband, she's wearing a simple blue crop top similar to her own and the smallest pair of black pajama shorts she's seen in forever.

The feeling of the girl's eyes also looking her up and down causes Paige to finally stop staring and look away. "Come here baby let me introduce you!" The pretty girl steps further into the living room to stand by both dads which causes Paige to follow without even thinking. The girls' dads introduce them to each other, "This is my daughter Paigey she plays basketball at UConn she's a little star." Bob says with obvious pride in his voice which causes Paige to slightly blush and look down waving him away playfully at the nickname. This elicits a small giggle out of the girl which makes Paige smile a little harder and look up at the girl seeing that she's already looking at Paige. "This is my baby she goes to Southern and she's the student council president at her school." Pride is also evident in his words, the baby name makes the girl turn away in slight embarrassment.

The TV in the living room starts playing a loud sound alerting the dads that the game they were awaiting is finally starting so they offer that the girls should go hang out together in the girl's room. They head towards the girl's room.

"So baby huh?" Paige says with a small smirk on her lips, the name used making her laugh.

"Oh whatever Paigey," The girl rolls her eyes playfully and sits on her bed, "I have a real name you know." Paige looks around the room taking in the aesthetically pleasing room with light grey walls dark hardwood floors and posters of all her favorite shows and artists on her wall.

Paige sits down at the small dark wooded vanity now looking at the girl perched on the bed, "Care to share then princess?" the nickname princess causes the girl to spring up and look at the blonde girl at her vanity

She shares her name with Paige to which Paige compliments.

“So student council president huh? You’re a smart girl aren’t you.” Paige says with a smirk but there’s no condensation or malice in it.

The curly haired girl nods making her curls bounce and flop in her face slightly. “Yep school has always been my thing I’ve been best at.”

Paige gets up from her vanity and walk over to the bed. She looks the curly haired girl in the eyes and moves some of the hair that fell in her face. “Maybe you should come by my school and see me do what I’m best at.”

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, always and forever ࿐‧₊ my girl, my man

chapter summary: You and Logan plan for your wedding.

word count: 9.9k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: i could've dragged out them getting engaged (i couldn't help myself) and i could've dragged out them finally getting married (i just couldn't help it😭).

also, i meant to post this a few hours ago, but i had a dentist appointment and the roads here in texas are awful. so, if you live in california, stay safe! and if you are in texas, stay warm! xoxo

(you can imagine whatever ring you'd like, but i got bored one day and searched around for a vintage ring so here's what it looks like)

warnings/tags: reader wears glasses, fluff, summer break, wedding, honeymoon

series masterlist - chapter 1 → chapter 3

“Do you think we’re missin’ something?” Jean wondered aloud.

Scott didn’t look up from his book, “about what?”

“About Y/N and—”

“Oh, yes. I thought I was the only one,” Ororo said, her tone carrying the faintest hint of amusement as she looked up from her book. She exchanged a knowing glance with Jean, who sat cross-legged on the couch across the room.

“Wait,” Jean said, closing the folder she’d been reviewing. “You’ve noticed it too?”

“Of course,” Ororo replied, leaning back in her chair with a small smirk. “It’s hard not to, the way Logan’s been acting.”

Scott finally looked up from his own book, his brow furrowed. “What are you two going on about?”

Jean rolled her eyes affectionately, setting the folder aside. “Come on, Scott. You must’ve noticed how Logan is with Y/N.”

“Not really,” Scott said with a shrug, earning an incredulous laugh from Jean.

“Men,” Ororo muttered under her breath, shaking her head. “He’s softer around her, more patient. Haven’t you seen the way he looks at her? It’s... different.”

Jean nodded, her expression thoughtful. “It’s not just that. It’s different than before. When me and Scott went to the store yesterday Logan asked for mango juice and yogurt-covered pretzels. Now who’s the only person we know who even likes those things?”

Ororo’s smirk grew. “Y/N.”

“Exactly,” Jean said, leaning forward. “I’m telling you, something’s shifted. They’ve always been close, but now? It’s like… there’s an extra layer to it.”

Ororo set her book aside, her tone teasing. “I’ve noticed other things too. She asked me for a bunch of yeast and some other ingredients last week—odd things for the lab. Then, two days later, she came by looking flustered, mumbling something about brewing beer. My guess? She’s making it for him.”

Jean grinned. “That sounds like her. She’s so shy about doing anything big, but she puts so much thought into the little things.”

Scott, still sitting with his arms crossed, frowned. “So, what? They’re dating. We all know that.”

“Yes, but this is different,” Jean insisted. “Logan’s been... softer, more relaxed. And Y/N? She’s been letting herself open up more. They’ve always had a connection, but this feels… more serious.”

Ororo nodded. “And the PDA. Don’t get me wrong, they’re not exactly hanging off each other in public, but it’s there. A little more than usual.”

Scott still didn’t look convinced. “I think you’re reading too much into this. Logan’s always been protective of her, and she’s been trying to come out of her shell. That doesn’t mean anything’s changed.”

Jean sighed, exchanging a look with Ororo. “You can be so dense sometimes, Scott.”

“Hey, I’m just saying! Logan’s Logan. He doesn’t strike me as the type to do anything halfway, but I’m not seeing what you two are apparently seeing.”

Ororo shrugged. “Give it time. You’ll notice eventually.”

---

Scott was heading down the main hall when he caught sight of Logan walking toward him. Logan had his usual brisk stride, but the large stack of magazines in his arms gave Scott pause.

“Logan,” Scott called, stepping into his path. “What’s with the reading material?”

Logan slowed to a stop, glancing down at the stack in his arms. Bridal magazines, at least half a dozen of them, with glossy covers featuring elaborate white dresses and floral arrangements.

He barely missed a beat. “For the fire,” Logan said gruffly, his tone so deadpan it took Scott a moment to respond.

“For the fire?” Scott echoed, his brow furrowing.

“Yeah. Fireplace needs kindling,” Logan replied, his expression unreadable as he shifted the magazines under one arm.

Before Scott could press further, Jean approached, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of the magazines. “Logan, is that…?”

“Magazines,” Logan cut in, his voice low. “For the fire. Don’t read into it.”

Jean’s lips twitched, barely holding back a smile. “Uh-huh.”

Logan let out a low grunt, clearly uninterested in continuing the conversation, and walked off without another word, leaving Jean and Scott standing in the hall.

Jean turned to Scott, her eyebrows raised. “Still think we’re imagining things?”

Scott glanced back at Logan’s retreating figure, the bridal magazines tucked under his arm. “…Okay, maybe something is going on.”

Jean smirked. “Told you.”

---

You rolled out from under the Blackbird with wire cutters laying on your stomach and an electric screwdriver in your hand. “Alright, fixed it. Still don’t know why you couldn’t ask Scott.”

Jean rolled her eyes, “I did. And he said ‘later’. It’s been 4 days.”

You gave her a small smile. “Figures.”

Sliding the wire cutters onto the small tool tray beside you, you sat up, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face. Jean crouched down next to you, handing over a clean rag.

“Thanks,” you said, taking it to wipe the faint smudge of grease off your arms.

“Not bad for a physics professor,” Jean teased, her tone warm.

You shrugged, pulling off the gloves with a small tug. “I’ve picked up a few things here and there.”

Ororo, perched nearby with her arms crossed and a bemused expression, added, “If you weren’t so dedicated to teaching, I’d say you might have a future in mechanics.”

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. “I’ll leave the big repairs to Hank. I just know enough to get by.”

As you spoke, you folded the gloves neatly and set them on the tray. That’s when Jean’s eyes caught something—a glint of light on your left hand.

Her brow furrowed slightly as she tilted her head. “Y/N… is that—?”

You glanced at her, confused for a moment, before realizing what had caught her attention. Your engagement ring, a delicate band with an antique setting, was visible now that the gloves were off.

“Oh,” you said softly, instinctively touching the ring with your thumb. A shy smile tugged at your lips.

Jean’s eyes widened, a mix of surprise and delight flashing across her face. “Wait a second. When did this happen?”

Ororo stepped closer, her curiosity piqued. “What’s she talking about?”

Jean pointed at your hand. “Look at her ring finger.”

Ororo’s gaze followed, and her eyebrows lifted. “Well, well, well. I didn’t realize we had a bride-to-be among us.”

Your cheeks warmed under their scrutiny. “It’s… recent,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jean’s grin grew as she leaned in, her tone playful. “And by ‘recent,’ you mean…?”

“Two… maybe three weeks,” you said, trying not to squirm under her gaze.

Ororo let out a low whistle. “And you didn’t tell us?”

You looked between the two of them, your fingers fiddling with the ring. “We weren’t keeping it a secret. It just… hasn’t come up.”

Jean crossed her arms, clearly unconvinced. “Hasn’t come up? You’ve been engaged for weeks, and none of us noticed?”

You bit your lip, feeling a mix of nervousness and amusement. “Well… Logan and I aren’t exactly the ‘big announcement’ type.”

Ororo chuckled. “That, I believe. But still, congratulations are in order. It’s beautiful, Y/N.”

Jean nodded, her eyes softening as she looked at you. “It really is. And it suits you.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, glancing at the ring again. Despite the attention, there was a quiet happiness bubbling inside you.

Jean gave you a knowing look. “So… when were you planning on telling the rest of us? Or were we just supposed to figure it out on our own?”

“I wasn’t sure how to bring it up,” you admitted, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “And Logan—well, you know how he is.”

Jean laughed. “Yeah, I can imagine his reaction to a big group toast.” She put on a gruff voice, imitating him. “‘No need to make a fuss.’”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Exactly.”

Ororo smiled warmly, her teasing tone softening. “Well, fuss or no fuss, we’re happy for you. And you better let us know if there’s a wedding date.”

“Of course,” you promised, the warmth in their voices making you feel more at ease.

Jean reached over, giving your hand a quick squeeze. “Congratulations, Y/N. You two deserve this.”

“Thanks,” you said again, this time with more confidence.

Before the conversation could go any further, Logan’s voice carried down the hall. “Darlin’? You done with the jet?”

You turned toward the sound, seeing him leaning casually in the doorway. His usual gruff expression softened as his eyes met yours.

“Yeah, all set,” you called back, standing and brushing off your jeans.

Logan gave a small nod but didn’t move, his gaze lingering on you in that way that made your heart flutter.

Jean smirked, glancing at Ororo. “And there he is.”

“Don’t,” you muttered under your breath, feeling your cheeks flush again.

Ororo laughed softly, but neither she nor Jean said anything more. As you walked toward Logan, you caught the amused glances they exchanged, but you didn’t mind.

Logan met you halfway, his hand resting briefly on your lower back as you joined him. “Ready to head in?”

“Yeah,” you said, the warmth of his touch grounding you.

As the two of you walked away, you could still hear Jean and Ororo chuckling behind you, but Logan didn’t ask, and you didn’t offer an explanation. Some things were just better left between the two of you.

---

“Please?” you said, drawing the word out with an exaggerated pout as you held up the scissors, comb, and spray bottle. Your tone was teasing, but your eyes carried a hopeful glint.

Logan crossed his arms, his expression skeptical. “Darlin’, I’m tellin’ ya, it’s fine. It doesn’t need fixin’.”

You arched a brow, stepping closer. “Logan, it’s summer, and your hair’s gettin’ way too long in the back. I’m not saying you need a whole new look, just a trim.”

He gave a low grunt, clearly unconvinced, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. “I’ve been dealin’ with this hair longer than you’ve been alive. It’s manageable.”

“Sure it is,” you said, a small smirk tugging at your lips. “But wouldn’t it be more manageable if it wasn’t sticking out at weird angles?”

Logan sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”

“Not a chance,” you said sweetly.

He stared at you for a long moment before shaking his head. “Alright, fine. But on one condition.”

Your eyes lit up. “Name it.”

A slow, mischievous grin spread across his face. “We do it outside, and you sit on my lap while you’re at it.”

Your cheeks immediately warmed, and you stared at him, wide-eyed. “Logan,” you began, your voice dropping in embarrassment.

“What?” he said with a smirk. “You wanted this, didn’t ya? Gotta make it worth my while.”

You huffed, but your lips quirked up in a small smile despite your best efforts. “Fine,” you said, trying to sound exasperated. “But don’t blame me if you end up with a lopsided cut.”

Logan chuckled, his hand settling on your lower back as he guided you toward the back patio. The warm summer air greeted you as the two of you stepped outside. The mansion’s sprawling yard stretched out around you, the sun casting a golden glow over the lawn and the distant trees.

Logan grabbed one of the sturdy wooden chairs from the patio table and plopped down, spreading his legs slightly as he leaned back with a lazy grin. He patted his thigh. “Hop on.”

You hesitated for a moment, glancing around to make sure no one else was nearby. Though Logan wasn’t shy about showing affection, you were still getting used to moments like this. When the coast was clear, you let out a breath and moved to sit sideways on his lap. He shook his head, catching your waist and turning you so you straddled him instead.

“There,” he said, his voice low and pleased. “Much better.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips as you picked up the spray bottle and gave his hair a quick spritz. He leaned back, his hands resting casually on your hips while you combed through his damp locks.

“You know,” you said, keeping your tone light as you snipped at the ends, “this is kind of nice. Just us, the fresh air…”

Logan’s lips quirked. “Don’t get too used to it, darlin’. This is a one-time deal.”

“Sure it is,” you teased, snipping another section. “I’ll remind you of that next time your hair gets out of control.”

He gave a low chuckle, and you felt his thumb brush lightly against your side. It was such a small, unconscious gesture, but it sent a warm flutter through your chest. You leaned in a little closer, focusing on your task.

“Y/N!” Jean’s voice rang out from somewhere near the house, and your head whipped up in alarm. “Have you seen—oh.”

Jean rounded the corner, her steps slowing as she took in the sight of you perched on Logan’s lap, scissors in hand. Her lips twitched, clearly fighting a grin. “Am I interrupting something?”

You felt your cheeks flame, and you tried to slide off Logan’s lap, but his hands on your hips held you firmly in place. “Jean,” you said, your voice higher-pitched than usual. “I was just… cutting Logan’s hair.”

“Right,” Jean said, crossing her arms and giving you a knowing look. “Because clearly, that’s the only thing happening here.”

Logan, unbothered, smirked up at her. “You need somethin’, Red?”

Jean waved a hand dismissively. “Nope, nothing that can’t wait. Carry on.” She turned to leave but not before shooting you a wink over her shoulder. “Nice technique, Y/N.”

“Jean!” you called after her, but she was already walking away, laughing softly to herself.

You groaned, covering your face with one hand. Logan’s chest rumbled with laughter beneath you.

“Relax, darlin’. Let her have her fun.”

You peeked at him through your fingers, narrowing your eyes. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Maybe a little,” he admitted with a grin, his hands squeezing your waist gently. “But hey, you wanted to do this, remember?”

You sighed, but a reluctant smile tugged at your lips as you went back to trimming. “I’m never living this down, am I?”

“Not a chance,” Logan said, his voice warm and full of affection.

---

Logan reached his hand out haphazardly to close the bedroom door, the motion almost careless in his urgency. His other hand remained firmly planted on your lower back, guiding you with surprising gentleness as your lips stayed locked.

The click of the door shutting barely registered before he backed you into the wall, his movements smooth and deliberate. You gasped softly against his mouth, one of your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair while the other found its way to the back of his neck.

“Logan,” you murmured breathlessly, breaking the kiss for a moment, your lips brushing against his as you spoke.

“What?” His voice was low, a rough edge of amusement to it as his lips sought yours again. “You’re the one who started this, sweetheart.”

Your laughter bubbled up, light and almost involuntary. “I did not—”

“Oh, you absolutely did,” he teased, his hands settling more firmly on your hips. He nipped at your bottom lip before pulling back just enough to look at you, his grin mischievous. “You looked at me like that, darlin’. Don’t blame me for followin’ through.”

A flush spread across your cheeks, but you couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped you as he leaned in again, capturing your lips in another kiss. This one was slower, softer, but still filled with the same electric energy that seemed to hum between the two of you whenever you were close.

You tightened your arms around his shoulders, fingers pressing lightly into his skin. He grunted softly, the sound half amusement, half approval, before his hands slid down to the backs of your thighs.

“C’mere,” he muttered, his voice husky as he gripped you firmly and lifted you effortlessly. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, and he pinned you against the wall more securely, his body pressed warm and solid against yours.

“Logan!” you squeaked, a mix of laughter and surprise in your tone. “You’re gonna drop me.”

He smirked, his lips brushing along your jaw before he kissed the corner of your mouth. “I’ve got you,” he said, his tone low but teasing. “When are you gonna figure that out, huh?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but before you could, the lights in the room flickered and then went out completely, plunging everything into sudden darkness.

You gasped softly, instinctively tightening your hold on Logan. “What just—?”

“Power’s out,” he muttered, his tone shifting to mild annoyance. He pulled back just enough for you to feel his breath against your skin. “Perfect timing.”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you, the absurdity of the situation cutting through the moment’s intensity. “Guess the mansion’s old wiring isn’t built for summer storms.”

“Guess not,” he grumbled, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you said softly, smiling despite yourself. “But we might want to move before someone walks in on this.”

He chuckled, his hands still steady beneath you as he adjusted his grip. “I don’t care who walks in. Let ‘em.”

“Logan,” you groaned, but you couldn’t hide the grin in your voice. “Don’t even joke about that.”

He leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before pulling back with a smirk. “Alright, alright. Let’s get you down.”

He set you on your feet gently, his hands lingering on your hips for a moment longer before stepping back. Even in the dim lighting, you could see the playful glint in his eyes.

“Maybe we finish this later,” he said, his voice low and warm.

You nodded, biting your lip to suppress another smile. “Maybe.”

As you both moved to find a flashlight, the sound of voices and footsteps echoed faintly down the hall. The chaos of the power outage was clearly drawing everyone out of their rooms, and you shot Logan a knowing look.

“See?” you whispered, smirking. “Someone was bound to walk in.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, but the small, satisfied smile on his face told you he wasn’t too worried about it.

---

You might’ve gotten a bit carried away looking at magazines instead of working on your research. The lab was quiet, save for the soft hum of equipment, and you’d tucked yourself into a corner with a stack of physics journals. But one wedding magazine Logan had given you sat on top of your pile, its glossy pages begging to be flipped through. Before you knew it, you were lost in images of lace trains and intricate veils, your fingers idly twisting a strand of hair.

“Hmm, wedding dresses?”

Jean’s teasing voice pulled you from your daydream. You jumped, snapping the magazine shut and turning red. “Jean! I—uh, it’s not what it looks like. I was just…taking a break.”

Jean smirked, plucking the magazine from your hands. She flipped it open to a page you’d dog-eared. “Sure, just a break,” she said, her tone laced with playful skepticism. “You’ve already got a few favorites marked. This one’s beautiful,” she added, pointing to a gown with delicate floral embroidery.

You pushed your glasses up nervously. “I mean, yeah, but it’s too soon, right? Logan and I haven’t even set a date yet…”

Jean ignored your protests, holding up the magazine like it was her life’s mission. “Nonsense. Come on, let’s go into town and try some on.”

Your eyes widened. “Try them on? Jean, no—I couldn’t! What if someone sees? What if—”

“Relax,” she said, placing a hand on your shoulder. “It’s summer break, most of the students are gone, and you deserve a little fun. Besides,” her lips quirked in a knowing smile, “Logan gave you this magazine for a reason. You think he’d mind?”

You hesitated, torn between your shy instincts and Jean’s infectious enthusiasm. Finally, you relented. “Fine. But just for fun.”

---

The bridal boutique was a cozy, sunlit space tucked away on a quiet street. Jean wasted no time pulling dresses from the racks while you lingered nervously near the dressing rooms.

“This one,” Jean said, holding up a sleek satin gown, “or this one?” She gestured to a gown with layers of delicate tulle.

“They’re both gorgeous,” you said, shifting on your feet, “but maybe too much for me…”

Jean rolled her eyes. “You’re the bride! There’s no such thing as ‘too much.’ Now, go try these on.”

The first dress was beautiful but too heavy, and the second didn’t quite feel like you. By the third, you found yourself laughing at Jean’s exaggerated commentary.

“Okay, but look at this!” she said, adjusting the train. “You could glide down the aisle like a queen.”

“Jean,” you giggled, shaking your head, “I think I’d trip over this and take Logan down with me.”

After an hour, you still hadn’t found ‘the one,’ but the experience left you feeling lighter. “Thank you,” you said as the two of you walked back to the car. “That was actually…fun.”

Jean grinned. “Told you. And now we know what styles you like. We’ll find it when the time’s right.”

---

Back at the mansion, Logan was leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping a beer, when you walked in. He raised an eyebrow at your slightly disheveled appearance. “Where’d you two run off to?”

Jean, smirking, answered before you could. “Tried on wedding dresses.” Logan’s gaze immediately snapped to you, and his lips twitched into a small smile. Jean patted your arm. “I’ll leave you two to it,” she said, disappearing down the hall.

You shifted nervously, tugging at your sleeves. “It was her idea,” you blurted out, feeling the need to explain. “I wasn’t—well, I mean, we didn’t find anything. And it’s probably too soon anyway, right? We don’t have a date or a venue or—”

“Darlin’.” Logan’s deep voice cut through your rambling. He stepped closer, his hands gently settling on your arms. “You don’t have to plan every detail right now.”

You looked up at him, your cheeks warm. “But—”

He shook his head, a rare softness in his expression. “I don’t care what you wear or where it happens. Hell, we could go to a courthouse tomorrow and sign the damn papers for all I care.” His voice dipped, quiet and rough with emotion. “I’m just happy I finally get to marry you.”

His words hit you like a wave, their weight sinking in as you stared at him. “Logan…” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He cupped your cheek, brushing his thumb gently over your skin. “What matters is you, sweetheart. That’s it.”

Your chest tightened, a mix of overwhelming love and relief bubbling up. You leaned into his touch, a small, teary smile breaking through. “Okay,” you murmured, resting your forehead against his. “I guess I can live with that.”

“Good,” he said, his lips quirking into a smirk. “Because you’re already perfect to me.”

---

This was a mistake.

One big, grand mistake.

Your chest heaved as you bent down with your hands on your knees, sweat dripping down your back. The morning sun filtered through the high windows of the mansion’s gym, but it offered no comfort. You were a mess—hair sticking to your face, glasses fogged up, and your lungs protesting every second of this so-called ‘workout.’

“This,” you panted, glaring at Logan, “was a mistake.”

Logan smirked, unbothered as he stood nearby, arms crossed over his broad chest. He was barely sweating, his usual tank top clinging just enough to show off his ridiculous muscles. “You’re the one who said you wanted to get stronger.”

“I didn’t know you’d try to kill me,” you shot back, collapsing onto a nearby mat. Your legs were jelly, your pride in shambles, and Logan looked way too amused.

He sauntered over, grabbing a towel from the bench. “You’re not dead,” he said casually. “You’re just outta shape.”

You groaned, throwing an arm over your face. “You’ve been alive for 100-something-years or whatever. Cut me some slack.”

“That’s not how it works, darlin’.” His voice was teasing, but there was a hint of warmth beneath it. He crouched next to you, the scent of his woodsy cologne mixed with sweat making your stomach flutter. “You gotta keep at it.”

You peeked out from under your arm, watching as he leaned closer. Logan reached out with the towel, gently wiping your forehead. “Thanks,” you mumbled, your cheeks heating from more than just exertion.

He didn’t stop there. The towel traveled down to your neck, then lower, dabbing at the sweat gathering at your collarbone. You tried not to squirm, but when he moved to the beginnings of your cleavage with a cheeky smirk, you slapped his hand away.

“Logan!” you hissed, sitting up abruptly, your face now definitely on fire.

“What?” he asked, his expression the picture of innocence. “Just helpin’ out.”

You glared at him, but the effect was ruined by the smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “You’re impossible.”

He shrugged, tossing the towel over his shoulder and standing up. “Yeah, but you love me.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t argue with that. “I’m never working out with you again,” you grumbled as you stood, wobbling slightly.

“Sure you are.” Logan’s hand shot out to steady you, his grip firm but gentle. “You just need the right motivation.”

“And what’s that supposed to be?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him.

He leaned in, his voice dropping to that gravelly tone that always made your heart skip. “Maybe I’ll tell ya if you survive the next session.”

You groaned, pushing past him toward the water cooler. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” he called after you, his laughter echoing in the gym. “You love me, remember?”

You muttered something under your breath that made him chuckle even harder, but despite your protests, you couldn’t stop the small smile from forming as you took a long sip of water. Maybe—just maybe—you’d let him drag you back here again. But next time, you were bringing Jean for backup.

---

“How did venue hunting go?” Jean asked, walking into the foyer where you and Logan just entered.

You let out a huff as you took off your jacket, your purse and notebook in Logan’s hands. He responded for you, “none of ‘em fit her standards.”

The jacket was draped over your arm as you snatched the notebook out of Logan’s hands. “They’re not high standards,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him.

Logan shrugged, clearly unimpressed. “Looked like every venue had a list of what they didn’t have instead of what they did.”

“That’s not true!” You flipped open the notebook, pages filled with scribbles, sticky notes, and circled bullet points. “I just want a place that works for everyone. Is that too much to ask?”

Jean smirked from where she leaned against the foyer wall. “Define ‘works for everyone.’”

You gestured with the notebook, tapping on your list. “It has to be wheelchair accessible for Charles. Child-friendly because the students will want to attend. Not too stuffy, so Logan doesn’t feel out of place—”

“Darlin’, I’m out of place everywhere,” Logan cut in with a smirk.

You ignored him, continuing, “And not too far from the mansion so the team can help in case of emergencies. Oh, and it has to have enough space for dancing, good acoustics, a separate area for food—”

“You’re planning a wedding or a state summit?” Logan teased.

Jean stifled a laugh, clearly enjoying the exchange. “She’s just thorough, Logan. You should’ve seen her face when one venue didn’t have a backup generator.”

“Backup generator? For a wedding?” Logan raised an eyebrow at you.

“Have you met us?” you shot back. “I’m not risking a power outage in the middle of the first dance.”

Jean laughed outright this time, shaking her head. “I think you’ve got your work cut out for you, Logan.”

“I always do,” Logan muttered under his breath, smirking when you swatted his arm.

“Don’t act like you’re suffering,” you said, rolling your eyes as you headed toward the living room. Logan followed, still grinning. Jean waved you off with a knowing smile before disappearing toward the kitchen.

---

A few days later, you sat cross-legged on the couch in the mansion’s common area, surrounded by more open notebooks and wedding magazines. The team buzzed around you as usual, some heading out for training while others settled in for their break. Logan strolled in, a beer in hand, and plopped down beside you.

“Still at it?” he asked, glancing at the scattered mess.

You sighed, closing one of the notebooks with a soft thud. “We’re not getting anywhere. Nothing feels right.”

Logan leaned back, taking a swig of his beer. “Then stop lookin’ so hard.”

“Easy for you to say,” you muttered. “You’re not the one trying to make sure everyone’s happy.”

“Darlin’, nobody cares where it happens. They care about you.” His tone softened as he reached over to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Hell, we could do it right here, and it’d still be perfect.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Here? At the mansion?”

“Why not?” he said with a shrug. “Big lawn, plenty of space, and it’s already home for most of us.”

You hesitated, glancing around the room. “It’s… not the worst idea.”

“‘Not the worst’ is high praise coming from you,” Logan teased, earning him a half-hearted glare.

“I just mean…” You bit your lip, considering it. “Who would even decorate?”

At that moment, Rogue walked by, arms full of laundry. Logan raised his voice without missing a beat. “Hey, Rogue! You feel like decorating for a wedding?”

Rogue paused, glancing between the two of you. “Uh… sure? What kinda wedding?”

Logan smirked, gesturing toward you. “Ours.”

Her face lit up. “Oh my God! Yeah, totally! I’ll get Kitty and Jubilee to help. We’ll make it look amazing.”

You blinked, overwhelmed by how quickly she agreed. “Wait—are you sure?”

“Course I’m sure!” Rogue said, beaming. “This is gonna be fun.”

As she hurried off, Logan leaned closer, his smirk widening. “See? Problem solved.”

You shook your head, laughing softly. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but you love me,” he said, pulling you into his side.

You didn’t bother arguing. Instead, you rested your head on his shoulder, letting yourself imagine it: the mansion’s lawn, your friends and family, and Logan waiting for you at the end of the aisle. For the first time in weeks, the thought of your wedding didn’t feel overwhelming—it felt like home.

---

This was officially your third time going wedding dress shopping, and this time Ororo had tagged along with Jean, who had practically dragged you out of the mansion with a determined look in her eyes. The three of you entered the boutique, greeted by racks of pristine white fabric, sparkling embellishments, and soft lighting that screamed bridal fantasy.

You adjusted your glasses nervously, clutching your notebook against your chest as Jean grinned at you. “This is it,” she said confidently. “Third time’s the charm.”

Ororo gave you a calm, reassuring smile. “No pressure, Y/N. Let’s just have fun with it.”

You exhaled a little laugh. “Easier said than done. Every dress I’ve tried on feels…wrong.”

Jean looped her arm through yours. “That’s because you’re overthinking it. Trust me, when you find the one, you’ll just know.”

The three of you wandered through the racks, pulling out dresses and debating the merits of lace versus satin, mermaid cuts versus A-line. Jean’s enthusiasm was contagious, and even Ororo—usually so composed—couldn’t resist chiming in with the occasional suggestion.

“I think Logan would like something simple,” Ororo said, holding up a sleek gown with minimal embellishments.

Jean snorted. “Logan would think she’s perfect in anything. He’d probably prefer she showed up in her lab coat.”

You flushed at the thought, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “He’s… not that bad.”

Jean raised an eyebrow. “Y/N, he kissed you in front of half the team last week just because you brought him a sandwich.”

“That was not—it was just a kiss on the cheek!” you protested, but your voice wavered.

Ororo chuckled, her eyes sparkling. “A lingering kiss on the cheek. We all saw it.”

You buried your face in your hands, groaning. “I’m going to die of embarrassment before this wedding even happens.”

Jean patted your shoulder. “If you survive Logan’s public displays of affection, you’ll survive anything.”

The teasing made you relax a little, and you found yourself smiling as the three of you continued browsing. Eventually, the shop assistant approached, her cheerful demeanor instantly putting you at ease.

“Looking for something specific?” she asked.

You hesitated. “Not really. I just…want something that feels like me.”

She nodded knowingly and began pulling a few options. One by one, you tried them on, stepping out to show Jean and Ororo each time. They offered their opinions—Jean was quick with compliments, while Ororo provided thoughtful feedback—but none of the dresses felt quite right.

Until the assistant brought out a gown you hadn’t noticed before.

It was displayed at the back of the boutique, almost tucked away as if it were waiting for someone to find it. The assistant carefully removed it from the rack and carried it over to you with a soft smile.

“This one just came in,” she explained, holding it up. The gown was breathtaking: an off-shoulder silhouette with intricate lace detailing across the bodice and delicate long sleeves. The fabric flowed into a soft, sheer train, giving it an ethereal, timeless feel.

Your breath hitched. “It’s beautiful.”

Jean’s eyes widened as she took in the dress. “Y/N, you have to try that on.”

Even Ororo, usually more reserved with her reactions, gave an approving nod. “It’s stunning. I think it might be the one.”

You hesitated, running your fingers over the delicate lace. “What if it doesn’t fit?”

Jean rolled her eyes, grabbing your shoulders and steering you toward the dressing room. “That’s what fittings are for. Go try it on. Now.”

The assistant ushered you into the dressing room, helping you into the gown. The fabric was soft against your skin, and as she adjusted the zipper, you caught your reflection in the mirror. For the first time, you felt… right.

“Ready?” the assistant asked with a knowing smile.

You nodded, stepping out tentatively. Jean and Ororo were mid-conversation but stopped as soon as they saw you.

“Oh. My. God,” Jean whispered, standing up. “Y/N, you look—wow.”

Ororo smiled warmly. “It’s perfect.”

You turned toward the mirror at the end of the room, your heart racing as you took in the sight. The dress hugged you in all the right places, the off-shoulder design framing your collarbones elegantly. The lace sleeves felt delicate but strong, and the train flowed behind you like a whisper.

“Do you think Logan will like it?” you asked softly, fidgeting with the edge of the lace.

Jean laughed, stepping beside you. “Y/N, Logan would probably think you look perfect in a potato sack. But this? He’s going to lose his mind.”

Ororo tilted her head, considering. “It suits you. It’s elegant but understated. Timeless.”

You blinked back the sudden sting of tears, overwhelmed by how right it felt. “I think… this is it.”

Jean grinned, squeezing your hand. “Finally! I told you third time’s the charm.”

The assistant beamed. “I’ll get the paperwork started and schedule a fitting to tailor it to perfection.”

As she walked away, Jean leaned closer, a mischievous glint in her eye. “So, how long do you think it’ll take Logan to rip this off you after the wedding?”

“Jean!” you squeaked, your cheeks flushing.

Ororo chuckled, shaking her head. “Some things never change.”

You buried your face in your hands, muttering, “Why did I agree to this?”

“Because you love us,” Jean teased, looping her arm through yours. “And because you knew we’d find you the perfect dress. Which we did.”

You couldn’t argue with that. For the first time since you’d started planning the wedding, you felt a sense of peace. This was happening. This was real. And you couldn’t wait to walk down the aisle and see Logan’s face when he saw you in this dress.

---

Later that evening, you were back at the mansion, lounging on the couch in the common room with a cup of tea. The dress was safely tucked away, but the memory of it lingered, making you smile softly to yourself.

Logan strolled in, fresh from a workout, a towel slung over his shoulder. He spotted you immediately, his brow quirking at your dreamy expression.

“What’s got you smilin’ like that, sweetheart?” he asked, dropping down onto the couch beside you.

You shook your head, trying to hide your grin. “Nothing.”

He gave you a look, his lips twitching into a smirk. “Nothin’, huh? That doesn’t sound suspicious at all.”

You rolled your eyes, but your blush gave you away. “Fine. I found the dress.”

Logan’s eyebrows shot up, and he leaned back, taking a long look at you. “Yeah? You happy with it?”

You nodded, the smile returning. “I think so. It feels… perfect.”

His expression softened, and he reached over, brushing a thumb along your cheek. “Good. That’s all that matters.”

For a moment, the two of you just sat there, the hum of the mansion in the background. Logan’s hand found yours, his rough fingers threading through yours gently.

“You’re sure you’re okay with the mansion for the wedding?” you asked, breaking the silence.

He chuckled. “Darlin’, as long as you’re the one walkin’ toward me, I don’t care if it’s in a field, a church, or a damn parking lot.”

You laughed softly, leaning into his side. “I’m holding you to that.”

“Hold me to whatever you want,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

And in that moment, surrounded by the comfort of Logan’s presence and the thought of your future together, you couldn’t imagine anything more perfect.

---

It was three weeks away from the start of the new school year when the wedding took place. At first, you were checking on everyone—Rogue to make sure that her, Kitty, and Jubilee were making progress with the decorations outside, and on Scott and Hank who were somehow tasked with food.

At least, until Logan noticed and locked you in the makeshift bridal suite.

Jean was laughing as she turned the key in the lock, leaning against the door while you protested from the other side. “This is for your own good, Y/N! You need to relax. Everything’s under control.”

“Jean!” you called, rattling the doorknob, though your voice lacked any real anger. “I just want to check on the decorations one more time!”

“Nope,” Jean replied cheerfully through the door. “Logan’s orders. He said, and I quote, ‘she’s gonna drive herself crazy. Lock her in if you have to.’”

You groaned, leaning your forehead against the door. “I’m not crazy.”

Jean’s voice softened. “Y/N, everything’s perfect. Trust us, okay? You’ve done enough. Now let us take care of the rest.”

Ororo’s calm voice chimed in from somewhere in the room. “She’s right, you know. The decorations look beautiful. Jubilee and Kitty outdid themselves. And Scott and Hank are handling the food just fine.”

You sighed, finally stepping away from the door. “Fine. But only because I’m outnumbered.”

Jean unlocked the door and peeked her head in, grinning. “That’s the spirit.” She stepped inside, followed by Ororo, who carried a garment bag carefully over her arm. “Now, let’s focus on the fun part: getting you ready.”

You couldn’t help but smile as Ororo unzipped the bag, revealing your wedding dress. The sight of it still took your breath away. The off-shoulder gown with intricate lace detailing and long sleeves was everything you’d dreamed of, and you felt a little thrill of excitement knowing you’d soon be wearing it.

Jean gestured for you to sit down in front of the vanity, where she had already laid out an array of makeup and hair tools. “Okay, here’s the plan: Ororo’s on hair, and I’ll handle your makeup. By the time we’re done, Logan’s gonna lose his mind.”

You laughed softly, settling into the chair. “He’d better not. I don’t want him passing out before the ceremony.”

Ororo chuckled as she began gently brushing through your hair. “I think Logan’s been ready for this day since the moment he met you.”

Jean smiled warmly, her hands deftly organizing the makeup. “He really has. It’s sweet, actually. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so happy.”

Your cheeks flushed at their words, but you couldn’t deny the warmth spreading through your chest. Logan had been a constant in your life, his gruff exterior hiding a heart that had always been devoted to you. The thought of him waiting for you at the end of the aisle made your nerves fade, replaced by anticipation.

“Okay, close your eyes,” Jean instructed, and you obeyed, letting her work her magic. The soft strokes of the brush and the hum of conversation between her and Ororo were soothing, and for the first time all day, you felt yourself relaxing.

By the time they were finished, you barely recognized yourself in the mirror. Your hair was styled in soft waves, pinned delicately to one side with small, sparkling clips. Jean’s makeup was subtle but elegant, enhancing your features without overwhelming them. You looked… radiant.

“Wow,” you breathed, turning your head slightly to take it all in. “You two are amazing.”

Jean grinned, squeezing your shoulder. “We aim to please.”

Ororo helped you into your dress, carefully fastening the buttons along the back. Once the gown was in place, she stepped back, her smile warm and approving. “You’re ready, Y/N.”

You turned to face the full-length mirror, your breath catching at the sight. The dress fit perfectly, the lace shimmering softly in the light. It was everything you’d hoped for and more.

Jean wiped at the corner of her eye dramatically. “I’m not crying. You’re crying.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Thank you, both of you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Ororo placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “That’s what friends are for.”

There was a knock at the door, and Rogue’s voice called out. “Y/N? It’s time.”

Your heart skipped a beat as Jean and Ororo exchanged excited smiles. Ororo grabbed your bouquet, a beautiful arrangement of white roses and greenery, and handed it to you. “Let’s get you married.”

The three of you made your way downstairs, the sound of soft music drifting through the mansion. The transformation of the lawn was breathtaking. Rows of chairs lined the grass, adorned with white ribbons and small floral arrangements. An archway covered in more roses stood at the end of the aisle, with Charles waiting beneath it, his wheelchair positioned just so.

And there, standing at the end of the aisle, was Logan. Dressed in a sharp black suit, he looked both rugged and unbearably handsome, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your breath catch. He looked as though nothing else in the world existed but you.

Jean gave your hand a squeeze before stepping aside to join Scott, and Ororo took her place with the other bridesmaids. Rogue beamed at you as she adjusted your train one last time. “Go get him, girl.”

You took a deep breath, your fingers tightening around your bouquet, and then you began to walk. The world seemed to blur around you, the murmurs of the guests fading into the background as Logan’s gaze held yours. Every step brought you closer to him, to the life you were about to begin together.

When you reached the end of the aisle, Logan took your hand, his grip warm and steady. He leaned in slightly, his voice low but filled with emotion. “You’re beautiful, darlin’.”

Your cheeks flushed, but you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”

Logan’s mouth quirked into a soft smirk, but there was an unmistakable warmth in his eyes. “Didn’t want to embarrass you, darlin’. Figured I’d at least try to look the part.”

You chuckled softly, feeling the nerves melt away now that you were standing in front of him. “You look perfect.”

Logan reached up, his hand brushing lightly over yours where you gripped the bouquet. “Not as perfect as you.”

Before you could respond, Charles cleared his throat gently, his voice calm but filled with quiet authority. “Shall we begin?”

Logan’s hand tightened just slightly on yours as you both turned toward Charles, who was seated in his wheelchair beneath the archway. Behind him, the soft rustling of leaves and the faint hum of summer added a serene backdrop to the moment.

Charles’s expression was serene as he looked between you and Logan. “Today is a celebration—not only of love but of the journey that brought these two together. A journey that, I suspect, was not without its share of challenges.” His eyes twinkled with a hint of knowing, though he didn’t elaborate. “Yet here you stand, hand in hand, ready to face the future together.”

Logan’s thumb rubbed gently over the back of your hand, a quiet reassurance. You glanced up at him and found his gaze still fixed on you, steady and unshakable. It was as if the entire world could collapse around you, and Logan wouldn’t notice or care as long as you were by his side.

Charles continued, his tone gentle and deliberate. “Marriage is not just a bond but a partnership. It is built on trust, respect, and an unyielding commitment to each other. And, knowing the two of you as I do, I have no doubt that your bond is as strong as the adamantium in Logan’s skeleton.”

That earned a quiet chuckle from the guests, even Logan’s lips twitching into a smirk. You felt the corners of your mouth lift too, though your heart was pounding in your chest. Charles’s words resonated deeply, a reminder of everything you and Logan had been through to reach this moment.

Charles’s gaze softened as he addressed Logan. “Logan, do you take Y/N to be your wife? To stand by her side through every challenge, to share in her joys, and to love her fiercely for as long as you live?”

Logan didn’t hesitate for a second. “I do.”

The firmness in his voice sent a shiver through you. There was no doubt, no reservation—just pure, unwavering certainty.

Charles turned his attention to you, his expression kind. “And Y/N, do you take Logan to be your husband? To stand by his side through every challenge, to share in his joys, and to love him fiercely for as long as you live?”

Your voice came out soft but steady, the words carrying every ounce of truth you felt. “I do.”

Charles nodded, his hands resting on the arms of his wheelchair. “By the power vested in me and with the love and support of everyone here, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Logan, you may kiss the bride.”

Logan didn’t need to be told twice. He stepped closer, his hands finding your waist as he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both tender and filled with passion. The cheers and applause from the guests barely registered as you melted into him, the world fading away until it was just the two of you.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his voice low and gruff but filled with emotion. “We did it, sweetheart.”

You smiled, your fingers brushing over the lapels of his suit jacket. “We did.”

The applause grew louder as Logan took your hand, turning to face the guests. You caught sight of Jean wiping her eyes dramatically, grinning as Scott shook his head in amusement. Ororo and Rogue both looked radiant, their smiles wide as they joined the applause.

As the two of you made your way down the aisle, Logan’s hand never left yours, his grip steady and reassuring. The world felt brighter, lighter, as if every piece had finally fallen into place. You were married.

---

You walked with your eyes closed, your fingers intertwined with Logan's as he guided you through the bustling streets of Paris. The sounds of the city surrounded you—the distant hum of cars, the chatter of people, and the occasional soft clink of a café cup—but it all felt muffled, as if the world was holding its breath for the moment you’d finally open your eyes.

Logan’s grip on your hand was steady, comforting. It was an anchor, reminding you that this moment, this moment with him, was real. His voice, gruff yet affectionate, came from just above you. “Just a little bit further, darlin’,” he murmured. “Trust me.”

“Logan, this better not be some kind of elaborate prank,” you joked, trying to suppress your smile. “You know how easily I get nervous when I don’t know what’s going on.”

He chuckled softly, the sound warm in your chest. “No pranks. Just wait, you’ll see. You’re gonna love it.”

You had no idea where you were going or what he had planned. It was just you and him, alone in the magic of Paris. You’d never been this far from the mansion before, and the city felt like a whole new world, full of promise and adventure.

The air smelled different here, cleaner somehow, and there was a faint coolness to the evening breeze. You could hear the distant sounds of tourists and Parisians going about their evening, but it all felt so far away as Logan led you further down the sidewalk.

Finally, Logan stopped walking. You could sense the change in his posture, a subtle shift in how he held you.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he said, his voice lowering to a more serious tone. “Open your eyes.”

You hesitated for a moment before slowly lifting your eyelids, the city’s lights momentarily blinding you as you adjusted. And then—there it was.

The Eiffel Tower. Towering before you, it glittered with thousands of lights, shining bright against the darkening sky. But it wasn’t just the Eiffel Tower that took your breath away. Above it, the sky was painted with the vivid greens, purples, and blues of the Northern Lights.

You gasped, your eyes darting between the two spectacular sights before landing on Logan. “Logan… how… how did you know this was happening? The Northern Lights don’t usually appear in the summer…”

He smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Guess I know a few things about the world you don’t, darlin’.” He paused, taking in your stunned expression. “I might’ve had a little help, but I wanted tonight to be perfect for you.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “This… this is perfect,” you whispered, unable to tear your eyes away from the sky. “I can’t believe you knew this was going to happen.”

Logan shrugged casually, though his expression softened as he took a step closer. “I don’t know about the stars aligning, but I know how much you love the idea of things being right when they happen. Couldn’t let you miss this.” He reached out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I wanted you to see this. To know that, no matter what, there’s beauty in this world that’s meant for you.”

You stood there in stunned silence, the weight of his words settling in your chest. You had never imagined a moment like this—not with Logan, not in a city like this. He had this way of surprising you, of pulling something beautiful out of thin air when you least expected it. The man who had been your constant across so many lifetimes, always there, always remembering you when you had no memory of your past lives… and now, here he was, giving you a memory of your own.

You finally looked up at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but I’m so glad I’m here with you.”

Logan’s lips quirked up, the corners of his mouth softening. “You deserve everything, sweetheart,” he said, his hand finding yours again. “Everything and more.”

You squeezed his hand, feeling the warmth of his touch seep through your skin. The world around you seemed to slow, as though the Northern Lights had wrapped the two of you in a blanket of time. Here, in Paris, standing beneath the Eiffel Tower with Logan beside you, you felt like maybe—just maybe—this life would be different. Maybe this time, there would be no goodbyes.

“I love you,” you whispered, the words feeling lighter than they ever had before.

Logan’s expression softened even more, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I love you, too. More than anything.” He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his voice low and steady. “You’re my everything, darlin’.”

The stars twinkled above you, and the Northern Lights danced in the sky, but in that moment, all you could see was Logan. His warmth. His presence. His unwavering certainty that you were meant to be together.

---

You scrunched your nose at the sky, the rain falling steadily as it soaked into the streets of Paris. The rhythm of the downpour created a gentle symphony against the canopy above you, and though the evening had been filled with so much warmth, the weather had shifted unexpectedly. But, despite the rain, Logan’s hand remained steady in yours, and the storm outside couldn’t quite dampen the mood between you.

Logan turned toward you, a hint of mischief playing at the corner of his mouth.

“Want to run through the rain, sweetheart?” he asked, a playful glint in his eyes.

You blinked, momentarily taken aback. “Run through the rain?”

Logan's smile spread, and he raised an eyebrow at you. “Yeah, sweetheart. What’s the worst that could happen? We get a little wet? Besides, you look great when you’re soaked.” His voice was playful, and there was a lightness to it that made you laugh again.

You glanced at the rain, the droplets now beginning to fall harder, streaking down the cobblestones of the Parisian street. It wasn’t the kind of weather you had imagined, but somehow, with Logan beside you, it felt like the perfect opportunity to break from the ordinary.

You shrugged, a smile creeping onto your face. “I guess if you can handle it, then I can too.” You squeezed his hand, trying to act more confident than you felt. After all, it wasn’t every day that you got to be in Paris, on your honeymoon, with Logan by your side.

Logan’s grin turned into something softer, and his fingers tightened around yours as he pulled you closer. “You sure about that? We can always head back to the hotel,” he said, his voice low, the warmth of it settling around you.

“No way,” you replied quickly, your tone more playful now. “Let’s do it. Just try to keep up.”

Logan chuckled under his breath and nodded, his eyes lighting up with that mischievous spark that had always drawn you in. “Alright, sweetheart. Here we go.”

Before you could take a step, he tugged you gently toward him, and in one swift motion, he was off, pulling you with him. You laughed, the sound mingling with the soft patter of rain against the street, as you ran beside him through the warm summer rain. The water splashed at your feet, your clothes quickly soaking through, but it felt like freedom—like this moment was just for the two of you.

Logan’s laughter echoed in your ears as you both sprinted down the street, the Parisian cityscape around you a blur. You felt lighter than you had in weeks, months, maybe even years. Everything was perfect. For the first time, you didn’t have to worry about the past or what the future might bring. You only had the here and now, and Logan, the one constant in your life.

Eventually, you both slowed to a stop, your breathing heavy but your hearts light. You couldn’t help but smile at Logan, who was grinning, his hair slightly damp and his shirt clinging to his chest in the most endearing way.

“That was... definitely worth it,” you said, breathless, your voice filled with amusement.

Logan caught his breath too and wiped the water from his forehead. “Told you you’d love it,” he replied, his voice softer now. He stepped toward you, his eyes never leaving yours, and before you could say anything else, he cupped your face with one hand, pulling you toward him.

His kiss was slow, tender, a contrast to the spontaneity of your run. The world seemed to stop in that moment, the sounds of the rain, the city, all fading away as you kissed him back, feeling the warmth of his lips against yours. There was something magical about it—about how he always knew how to make you feel special, even in the most unexpected moments.

When you finally pulled back, you both stood there, laughing quietly, your fingers still interlaced. “Okay, now I’m soaked,” you said, your smile never fading.

Logan chuckled, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand. “Doesn’t matter. You look beautiful either way,” he said, his voice gruff but affectionate.

You shook your head, but the smile on your face grew wider. “You’re impossible,” you teased, though the warmth of his words made your heart swell. “But I guess I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk never leaving his lips. “Good. I’ve got a few more surprises up my sleeve, darlin’. Just wait.”

You couldn’t help but laugh again. “I’m starting to wonder if I should be worried.”

Logan pulled you closer again, his hand resting on the small of your back, his thumb gently tracing circles. “Trust me, sweetheart. No need to worry about anything. It’s just you and me. Always.” His words, soft and certain, settled in your chest like a promise.

For a moment, you closed your eyes, letting the sound of the rain and his steady presence wash over you. The night had become everything you’d dreamed of and more. There would be no worries, no regrets—not as long as Logan was by your side.

Finally, Logan broke the silence with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “So, what do you say? You wanna keep running through the rain, or should we head back to the hotel and dry off?”

You glanced at him, your heart racing from both the run and the way he made you feel. “I think I’m ready for a change of pace,” you said, your voice soft, almost teasing. “But don’t think I’ll forget this.”

He chuckled again, his hand slipping into yours as he led the way back toward the hotel, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as the two of you walked together, side by side, under the Parisian night sky.

if you want to know what year it is, it is 2005!

(also, again, you can imagine whatever wedding dress you want, but i based it off of this one i found when i was, once again, bored)

[shycloudkitty]

Just one more minute...

Summary: Your husband has to leave for yet another mission but he's not quite ready to let you go yet… So he just savors…each… moment… 

Pairing: Death Island! Leon × Fem reader

Tags: a bit angsty but lots of comfort, Leon sleeping peacefully for once in his life, fluff, established relationship. Just overall a short comfy read <3

WC: 1.3K

Small droplets of rain splatter on the windows of your bedroom. The soft sound created a soothing lullaby for the ears for those who were sleeping to it. The cloudy weather and the chill air contributed in making it the most serene environment while you stay snuggled up peacefully in your husband's arms with a warm blanket over you. 

His arms stayed around your waist holding you gently in a warm embrace, face nuzzling your hair, gentle breathing warming your neck. This was always his favorite position to fall asleep to. Your smell, your soft touch, your weight beneath him, telling him that you were really here… You were real. 

Your arms were wrapped around his bare torso and face buried in his chest. Feeling his body warmth seep into your skin. Limbs trained to take life, now just protecting you from the chill air and comforting you in your sleep. 

It was such a simple moment, just a couple sleeping and relaxing in each other's comfort. But at the same time it was so rare between you two. Just having these simple moments with him felt like a blessing. It was heaven.

And why wasn't it normal for both of you? Right. He had a job of saving the world, do or die, special agent... You get the idea. Except his job wasn't exactly a James Bond one. That only happened in movies. No, this was more grim than what they show in the movies. But what can you do when these are the cards life dealt you with? 

But he always felt inspired by you, how you handled every situation thrown at you with grace. Obviously, he wasn't a fool, he could see it was tough but still tried your best. Even in this relationship, you handle everything with so much love and care…he never had someone who sticked with him more than a few months let alone actually get married to. 

He didn’t hold anything against his exes, like his life was basically swamped with work so he understood why they left. What was actually confusing? You staying in his life, despite everything. You stayed even when he missed some of the important moments of your life. Sadly, that was the reality of his job. You win some, you lose some.

He was obviously happy that you stayed with him despite everything but he never quite understood why? He couldn't help but ask you this question. He remembers seeing your cheeks get red, avoiding his gaze and softly saying ‘I love you’. He also recalls saying ‘thank you’ in response because of how flustered he got from the confession. 

That memory always makes him facepalm himself.

After the day of your confession it was like his world flipped. And even though he didn't understand it fully at the time he wanted to do everything in his power to keep you in his life, even if it meant catering to your every whim. He listened to everything you said, trying to remember the best he could. 

He actually has a secret folder on his phone containing everything about your likes and dislikes just in case he needs a refresher. 

He didn’t even realize when it happened but he fell in love with you and wanted to keep you in his life forever. Thankfully, you felt the same way when he got down on one knee and asked if you wanted to marry him. He almost lost the ring with how nervous he was, fidgeting with the ring box in his pocket every 5 minutes.

It's been a few years since he tied down the knot with you and it was the best decision of his life. Sure, being married presents its own set of problems, sometimes things get rocky between you two, but there was nothing you both couldn't solve. Sometimes the problems needed talking, other times he could tell without you saying a word. But each time he makes it known that he loves you. Always. 

The soft rain slowly stirs Leon awake, he glances at his surroundings and then looks down at your sleeping face with his bleary eyes. He yawns and rubs his eyes, the digital clock on his nightstand read 6:30am. 

It was still half an hour early before he had to go to work today for some missing person assignment Hunnigan gave out. He didn’t wanna go but apparently it was top priority and needs his immediate attention. He told you about it last night, you weren't exactly happy since it was last minute but at this point you had grown used to it.

He tilts his head and looks at your serene face, caressing your cheek and sighing. His lips press a soft kiss on your forehead and gently threads his fingers through your hair. His voice comes as a soft whisper. “I don't wanna go either… you know that, right?” You probably knew how he felt about going too. You could read him like a book at this point. 

His eyes flit through your soft features, taking note of your breathing, slow and deep, fully relaxed. He smiles to himself and whispers in the same soft voice. “God, you’re so beautiful. You always are.” he lovingly brushes some hair out of your face. “I'm really lucky I get to see you like this, feels like I'm in heaven even if I probably won't ever go there. You do so much for us, I wish I could just stop this moment for us and never let go.”

He sighs softly and slowly pulls you closer to the warmth of his chest, trying not to jostle you too much. He closes his eyes briefly, focusing on your warmth. And starts mumbling to himself. “Honestly, if I was a poet I would have written dozens of poems about you. They probably would have been corny but you would have liked it.”

He gently starts brushing your hair again and continues. “But since I'm not… I don't have enough words to fully express how much you mean to me. The fact that we’re still together, makes me the luckiest fool ever lived. My heart hurts sometimes because of how happy I get cause of you.”

He sighs and mumbles. “I'm not normal…never have been. But with you…I feel that I finally became the man that I was supposed to be. And that I finally have a place called home."

He scoffs to himself, shaking his head. He didn't know what had possessed to become so sentimental this early. “I'm really cheesy aren't I?”

He felt soft teardrops on his chest where your face was resting. You had woken up from his rambling. 

His heart clenches from realization. He gulps, feeling the sudden lump rise up in his throat. He hugs you tighter and rubs your bare back. “I will come back, I promise.” Softly pressing a kiss on your shoulder. 

He glances at the time again. It was nearly 6:55am. He had to start getting ready for work. 

He slowly tilts your face, wiping away the tears from your shining eyes. His expression softens, cupping your face in his hands and softly kisses you. He feels you kiss him back, your grip on his arm tight. 

After a few moments you both slowly pull back from the kiss, eyes closed, foreheads resting against one another, soft breathing filling the quiet room. He softly mumbles. “I have to get ready now sweetheart.”

He feels you shake your head in response. Your soft voice fills the room. “No…wait for few more minutes. Just stay.”

He gulps and nods. He wasn't strong enough to deny that request. He pulls you close, covering both of you in the blanket. “Of course, darling.” And press soft kisses on your shoulder. 

Enjoying these quiet moments of solace with you. Even if he couldn't make this moment last forever, he knew he would come back to relish it again... 

Usually I wouldn't say this but I would very much appreciate it if you left comments, obviously if you want to. It helps me improve and encourages me to write more. 😊❤

-Bella

[lostxndbroken]

Haldir had to fight some tears that threatened to leak from his eyes at those sweet words, the understanding. He chuckled and was followed by a sniff. “Sorry, usually not so touched by other’s words.” The blond cleared his throat. “I never felt so understood before… It was like my path was laid out the moment I took breath. For many of the grove, I suppose. There was no option, not really. So when the grove fell apart, I stayed who I always thought I was meant to be, but I wasn’t happy with who I was. You supporting me with this, suggesting changes to become someone I would like be… It’s touching.”

He turned towards Halsin and wrapped his arms around the strong waist, resting his head on his chest for a moment. “I would love to study, and heal. It feels good. I don’t want to do it just for others, but also for myself. The idea of healing others feels like healing myself.”

The druid looked up at the other, chin resting against his chest. “I want you to get what you want, what you need. And if I can help with that, I would love to do that, for you. Our lives can last very long and it would be too long to do something you’re not meant to do. I get that this current time it needs something else, but it would need that forever.”

"No worrying is easier said than done." Halsin replied with a soft chuckle although he did try to focus on the positive rather than all the negatives. The distraction of moving everything around helped with that and he had to admit that the space looked much better when they were done.

"Really. I can see how much you light up when talking about healing. it's a stark contrast to how you looked when talking about your past as a fighter." He said warmly while giving the smaller druid's should a gentle squeeze.

"Battle has never been my preference either. I much prefer a quiet life of study and healing. Until recently I was known far more for my healing than for my combat experience." He said, understanding clear in his expression. "If you need any help starting a new path or with your spellwork then let me know. I'm always here to help."

[stylesluxx]

all of the girls you loved before – a. hotchner

[warnings: none]

summary: in which y/n is grateful for aaron's experiences – inspired by all of the girls you loved before by taylor swift

word count: 773

main masterlist

You've heard the stories before, the whispered mentions of the women that had come before you. Each one left a mark on him, a trace you sometimes wondered if you could see in the way he moved, the way he held you when you felt his steady hands against your back. Aaron Hotchner didn't often talk about them, but in the quiet moments, their presence lingered like a ghost in the room, a history you couldn't touch but could feel.

It wasn't jealousy, exactly. It was more the weight of knowing you weren't his first love, that he had lived entire lifetimes before you. Maybe you'd catch him staring off into the distance, his jaw tight as memories flickered across his face. You never pried, though the questions sometimes bubbled at the back of your throat. He would have told you if he wanted to, you reminded yourself.

But tonight was different. Tonight, something between you shifted.

You were sitting together on the porch, the soft hum of autumn night air around you, the distant sounds of traffic on the street below a low murmur. The team was away on a case, but for once, he wasn't. He had stayed behind, citing exhaustion, though you knew it wasn't just about fatigue. He needed time. Space. And you were here for him, silently offering the support he rarely let himself ask for.

Aaron sipped his drink, his fingers grazing the glass as he looked out into the darkened sky. You followed his gaze, wondering where his mind had drifted this time. His silence wasn't unusual, but there was a tension tonight that made the air between you feel thicker than usual. Finally, he spoke, his voice soft, like he wasn't sure he was ready for the words.

"I don't think I've ever told you about Haley."

His ex-wife. You'd heard her name before, of course, but he rarely mentioned her. Even now, years after her death, the grief still hung in his eyes when he did. You turned slightly, giving him your full attention, heart tightening as you prepared yourself for whatever he needed to say.

"She was... everything to me. For a long time." He let out a breath, his thumb tracing the rim of his glass. "And when I lost her, I didn't think I could feel that way again. About anyone."

You didn't speak, just listened, knowing this wasn't something you could fix. This was something he had to let out, piece by piece.

"I wasn't looking for this, for us." His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world stopped turning. "But somehow, you're here."

He shifted, setting his drink aside and taking your hand in his. His fingers were warm against yours, grounding you as his gaze softened, the weight of years of pain and love swirling in his eyes.

"I used to think the past would always have this hold on me, that I'd never be able to let go of all the girls I loved before. But then I realized... they led me here. To you."

Your breath caught, the weight of his words pressing into your chest. You didn't need him to explain further. You knew what he meant—that every love, every loss, every heartbreak had shaped him into the man sitting beside you. And somehow, through all of it, he had found his way to you.

He squeezed your hand, a silent reassurance that he was here, with you, now.

"I don't regret any of it," he continued, his voice quieter now. "Because without it, I wouldn't have you. And that's something I wouldn't trade for anything."

The tears welled in your eyes before you could stop them, the emotion of his confession wrapping around your heart. You'd always known there was a part of him that would forever belong to the past, to Haley, to the life he had before. But now, hearing him say it, you realized it wasn't about competing with those memories. It was about understanding that you were part of his story now, a chapter he hadn't expected but cherished all the same.

You leaned in, resting your head on his shoulder as he pulled you closer, the unspoken understanding settling between you. There was no need for more words, not tonight. You both knew that love wasn't about erasing the past—it was about accepting it, embracing it, and realizing that every step along the way had led to this moment.

And in that moment, you realized something too.

You were glad for all the girls he loved before, because without them, without everything he had been through, you might never have found your way to him.

And now that you had, you weren't going to let go.

[AN: oh hey... I think I'm going to do febuwhump to get out of my writing slump. I'll keep you guys updated. I also have a ko-fi account now??? no pressure but it's link in my navigation and here! and of course... my taglist. lmk your thoughts. love you byeee]

[amyoffline]

In Defense of the Phandom (Mostly): Dan, Phil, and Our Parasocial Social Club

Refer to my previous pinned post for an explanation of and outline for this project. Now that I'm done going through my old reblogs (god, it took forever), it's time to actually research and write this script! Finally, my favorite part of any project. This will be my pinned post for the foreseeable future, so you can come back to by clicking on my blog for the current status of this part of the process. There will be a similar post for filming and editing once I get to that point, but for now, you can glance at how "full" the bar below each section is for a quick idea of where the script is. Or you can expand the post to see more details.

Script word count: 2,350 | Last updated: January 9, 2025

Research

Peer-reviewed or published literature: ⚫︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎ Social media, forum archives, and fanwork: ⚫︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎ The great rewatch: ⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎ Discussions with other phannies (hey! that could be you, if you want!): ⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎

Writing

Introduction, background, and conclusion sections: ⚫︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎ 2009-2013: ⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎ 2014-2018: ⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎ 2019-2025: ⚫︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎ Long tangents (fandom, RPF, and PSIs/PSRs): ⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎ Editing: ⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎⚪︎

More details below the cut!

Research → peer reviewed or published literature:

I read a few things (like Haidt's The Anxious Generation) while I was in the process of searching academic databases, but most of the 403 works I have saved to Zotero for this are currently unread. They're not all the same length or will take the same amount of time to read, so the completion proportion is just getting updated based on vibes. I'm absolutely not referencing all 403 of these things in the script - I just cast a wide net for materials I thought might be relevant. Furthermore, there are some things I didn't save that I know I'll be referencing, like some of the Pew Research Center's work in the early to mid 2010s on teenagers and technology, or the journalistic coverage of what got my school district in huge trouble in 2011.

Research → Social media and forum archives:

The collection of posts, art, and fic (other than mine) to reference in the video. For regular posts and art, especially by people who have long since abandoned their accounts or whose content went pretty viral, I feel comfortable just showing things in the video with credit as examples. For fic, I intend to just discuss trends more broadly and vaguely since, as a fic writer myself, I know we tend to get more flack and less acclaim for our work and therefore prefer to stay out of the spotlight. Let me know if you think I should handle this differently - the academic impulse is to credit sources and reproducible searches for every single thing you do, but that's definitely not best practice for phandom history since we have so much "forbidden" lore. I'll also be reading the IDB forum front-to-back, listening to things like the phandom podcast, reading the current generation of phanzines, and looking at recent (and historical, if anyone has any) surveys done of phannies within the community. I'm assuming those folks would appreciate credit and/or a shoutout.

Research → The great rewatch:

Rewatching everything DNP-related so I can talk about it from more recent memory (and read what's left of the original comments for DNP videos that are still up at their original locations). I know there's a playlist for this but I also know it's incomplete, so I have been doing some poking around myself and will probably continue to.

Research → Discussions with other phannies:

I read a few things (like Haidt's The Anxious Generation) while I was in the process of searching academic databases, but most of the 403 works I have saved to Zotero for this are currently unread. They're not all the same length or will take the same amount of time to read, so the completion proportion is just getting updated based on vibes. I'm absolutely not referencing all 403 of these things in the script - I just cast a wide net for materials I thought might be relevant. Furthermore, there are some things I didn't save that I know I'll be referencing, like some of the Pew Research Center's work in the early to mid 2010s on teenagers and technology, or the journalistic coverage of what got my school district in huge trouble in 2011. The first task is to sort that whole Zotero collection into more manageable sub-collections (on PSR on PSIs, on mental health, on YouTube platform history, etc), which is what I'm currently working on.

Writing → Introduction, background, and conclusion sections

See old pinned post for the outline. Will expand details here once research is mostly done (I plan to read and watch everything in the research section aside from talking to other phannies, then complete the script's rough draft, then talk to others on call, then integrate that with and finalize the script).

Writing → 2009-2013

See above.

Writing → 2014-2018

See above.

Writing → 2019-2025

See above.

Writing → Long tangents (fandom, RPF, and PSRs/PSIs)

See above. These tangents are kind of mini video essays in and olf themselves, so I may write them while I'm reading through my saved stuff in Zotero and before I rewatch all the DNP videos.

[fatigue-d]

"It's you , Despite everything, it's still you. "

Words: around 1k

Inspired by this amazing fanart by @padiduys :

--------------------------------------------------

"IT'S YOU "

Mark gently brushed Fernando's cheek, his loving gaze shimmering in his eyes. The Spaniard took no notice, talking to Kimi about the upcoming race, his eyes full of challenge and his proud smile. He was a competitor, one of those rarely seen, those who live for glory, victory and, in his case, speed. It's all about speed, and always will be. And under these conditions, one wondered how a love affair could be created. But Fernando wasn't just a competitor, he wasn't just greedy, he was greedy too, and that was another sin, but don't hold that against him, he's human after all. In his greed, he had kept deep down his love for his friends, his family and Mark...

He cherished them and didn't want anyone to take them away from him, his sweet words in Spanish, his discreet caresses, his secret and often unexpected kisses, his freshly bought flowers from the local florist, his lame jokes, his charming smile. He dedicates them all to one person, whom he likes to call "Mine". Mark, too, appreciates this attention, moving in it, flanning like the sun, with the certainty that their love will fight anything.

Their love so sweet, their love so strong, their love so secret. Because, as Fernando had said a few lines earlier, he was greedy, and his greed manifested itself in his need for secrecy, for "their things", for lies.

After all, perfect love means discreet love.

" DESPITE EVERYTHING "

I'm not going to Ferrari," says Mark.

And his words destroyed everything. Absolutely everything, a chaos of screams, insults, annoyance, everything but crying. Because why cry over so little? He was just a colleague, after all, just a colleague....

Yet this sentence had been like a bomb, said in public, the atmosphere previously ecstatic, the moment now as if frozen by this sudden coldness.

Mark knew what he was getting into when he said this, because it wasn't Ferrari's refusal that had led to the dispute, it was the confirmation that next year, he would be retiring. That the words were heard by all only added fuel to the fire, for even if Fernando's greed was proven, Mark's was far greater. So when he destroyed the open secret, everything went with it.

Fernando had done his best to get him to stay, trying to convince him to change teams, to finally leave Red Bull, which no longer respected him. But he was tired, terribly tired, but his love for Fernando is intact. For, despite the fact that he was leaving, he had hoped to stay with him, to share his days and nights, and so had Fernando, but the separation was too strong, and sooner or later one of them would have cracked.

So it was on one of their dates that Mark accepted his sentence, knowing the consequences but unable to accept them. But if it wasn't him who put an end to it, it would have been Fernando, and that would have been far more heartbreaking and destructive. For Fernando loves passionately, a flame seemingly burning in his heart, fueling his will, his hope and his love. And Mark had plunged into it, unafraid of getting burned, but perhaps he should have, for now he could only see himself as a charred corpse.

So....

He said the word.

"It's over"

He bitterly regretted the second he said them, then knew he couldn't go back when Fernando cried in front of him. He'd never made him cry before, not from joy, not from sadness. He'd hoped the Spaniard's tears would flow when he proposed, the mark of his ring box still visible on his faded jeans. But he'd dreamed too much.

And when he'd left the restaurant, he too had felt drops on his cheeks, his vision blurred, but he hadn't noticed them. Probably too absorbed by the sadness he'd caused the man he loved, and would love forever, to feel.

" IT'S STILL YOU "

Seeing Fernando in a green outfit was confusing for him, as he was far too used to Ferrari's reds and Renault's bright blues. Yet this color suited him like a glove, as did all the others if you asked him, but I doubt you'd be interested in hearing a middle-aged man's monologues about his husband.

His beard was grayer than the last time they'd shared a podium, wrinkles adding to his face as age crept into both their lives.

It had made them mature, Mark hoped, they had seen each other again, after a long time, but they had still managed this small step after years of radio silence.

Their first conversations had been tinged with nostalgia, remorse, sometimes resentment, a strange taste of bitterness sticking to both men's palates. Yet Mark had recognized one thing he'd forgotten after their break-up, and that was gentleness.

The gentleness in Fernando's voice when he spoke of them, his smile, his touch, shorter than before but as comforting as ever. He'd created a portrait of the fearless, fearless Spaniard, but he'd completely overlooked a part of the Spaniard's personality.

His concern for his loved ones, his love of animals, his desire to advance the next generation, his muted anger, always more impactful than shouting.

All this less flamboyant side of the Spaniard had been forgotten after so many years. But it was this one that made him fall in love again, even more strongly than the first, because it was still him and had always been him.

And maybe now the ring on Fernando's hand would be the talk of the town, maybe this time the secret would be less guarded, maybe this time Mark wouldn't be able to deny it.

But it's about time, discretion has a limit and for Mark it stops at affection. For he has no intention of stopping dating Fernando for any reason as stupid as fear.

Fear of other people's gaze, fear of a distant and unpredictable future. Because he knew he had Fernando Alonso by his side, always by his side despite the passage of time.

Because it's him , despite everything, it's still him.

--------------

I hope you enjoyed it! Credit goes to @padiduys for his incredible fanart, I think my idea was pretty far from the fanart, but Fernando's smile was just too tender for me not to write about it.

[karlachismylife]

Whenever I meet people that can only identify the most basic types of relationships like "friends", "lovers", MAYBE if I'm lucky "mentor and mentee" or even "found family" (just don't get me started on the whole "if they're sworn brothers, romantic relationship between them is incest" spiel), every time I honestly am sad for them.

I can't imagine my life without being achingly in love with a witch girl from my pack, knowing she loves me back just as well as I know we will never share more than a single cheek kiss, myriads of minutes spent holding hands and countless poems I wrote and she kept. This is not friends or lovers, this is love that exists in its own way.

I can't imagine my life without sighing after a pretty Arlequin with the most beautiful eyebrows and a cheeky grin, knowing you will never be on the same level and being genuinely happy to stay like a loyal adoring dog at his feet. This is not friends or mentor and mentee, this is love that exists in its own way.

I can't imagine my life without latching onto a big brother that didn't know your name when you already sensed he's going to be your big bro in the frightening new step of your life. Knowing it won't be as special for him, but he'll be the best big brother you could ask for, after you strike a conversation by telling him a fun fact about whale songs. This is not friends or found family, this is love that exists in its own way.

I can't imagine my life without feeling like broken mirror shards laying on the asphalt of a secluded town outskirts road, soaked in someone's rain and knowing that this person you call himinn minn will forever be just that - your unreachable, elusive rainy summer sky. Even in a cold, lonely winter. Exchanging words of love and hot whispers, feverish fantasies over their portaits, talking into the void they left after disappearing - and still knowing it all was the most beautiful of loves shared mutuially. This isn't lovers, this is my sea being in love with their sky, and this love exists in its own way.

I can't imagine my life without running away from the dystopian reality of grey panel buildings and people talking to butchers, so fucking alone, cold and filled with bitter cigarette smoke, only to find myself a hundred years back, in the body of a Silver Age poet falling in love with a fellow runaway in Paris, the one that hears him when no one else does. Knowing the promise "Я все равно тебя когда-нибудь возьму — одну или вдвоем с Парижем." is just that, a promise, and it's enough. This is not friends or lovers, this is love that exists in its own way.

Yearning, devotion, solace, connection, accidents that stay with you for life, worshipping, inspiring, leading, soothing, peace, rebellion. Heart bursting with acrylic paints and calm humming of a habit.

There are so many ways people get with other people. I pity those that had only ever known the basics, but I do hope that they're happy like this.

I am happy with my collection of people that I can only ever name by their nicknames, because I can never refer to them as friends, lovers, internet acquaintances.

[dolletteamine]

i've been so upset about LA these past ~48hrs or so and seeing the general response in the media (mostly social media) has made it incomprehensibly worse. the fact that so many people are now utterly traumatized, homeless, broke, out of a job, a place of education, family members/pets, all of their personal possessions as well as places of personal/nostalgic significance yet the internet & comment sections are full of pure cruelty and insensitivity is beyond disgusting. if you're witnessing (whether that be digitally or in person) the absolute horror of this disaster yet have the gall to make it about palestine, "eating the rich," p3do.philes, donald trump, racism and all of your other bs tiktok political opinions, there's a special place in hell for you. how has critical thinking and empathy become so utterly lost on this many people? the bottom of so many worlds just fell out today/yesterday that will take years- if not decades- to put back together (if thats even possible atp). this is a time that we should be unifying as a country. if you're a resident of the (greater) los angeles area, words can't describe what i feel for you right now. please stay safe and take care of yourselves as well as those you hold dear. your resilience will forever be an inspiration for us all. sending love ∞<3

[yanderejustforyou]

Madness Really

Oswald Cobb x Reader

Oswald Cobblepot had never been one to show his emotions. He had been hardened by a cruel world, shaped by pain and betrayal from an early age. His exterior was a mask, an impenetrable wall of arrogance, sharp wit, and cold, calculated malice. But behind that mask was something else—something softer, something more vulnerable. And it was that vulnerability that would destroy him.

The meeting with Oswald felt less like chance and more like the universe itself had deliberately orchestrated it. It wasn't a casual encounter at a coffee shop, or a shared glance across a crowded room. It was a collision, a sudden, irreversible shift in your trajectory. You, living your quiet, ordinary life, never imagined venturing into the shadowed alleyways and opulent dens of depravity that defined his world. A world where the air felt thick with unspoken threats, where whispered deals replaced polite conversation, and every sunrise seemed to paint the streets with the residue of the previous night's violence. Yet, somehow, you found yourself drawn into his orbit, a moth irresistibly pulled toward a flickering, dangerous flame. It wasn't love at first sight, not in the traditional sense. It was something far more complex, a magnetic pull born of recognition. You saw, beneath the gruff exterior and the calculating gaze, a profound brokenness. You saw the cracks in his carefully constructed facade, the remnants of a soul that had been battered and bruised by the harsh realities he had endured. And in that brokenness, you glimpsed a reflection of your own vulnerabilities, a shared understanding that transcended words. You couldn't just walk away. You found yourself compelled, almost against your will, to sift through the layers of anger and ambition, to find the buried pieces of the man he once was, the man you believed could still be.

But even in those early days, as you explored the labyrinth of his personality, you were shadowed by a chilling understanding. You knew that a man like Oswald Cobblepot—a man who had clawed his way up from the depths of despair, who had been betrayed and abandoned by those he had trusted, who had tasted the bitterness of injustice time and time again—was fated to a life of perpetual struggle. He yearned for peace, for a sanctuary from the relentless battles he fought every day, but you knew it was a yearning that would forever remain unfulfilled. Loving him, you realized with a sinking heart, was an act of self-condemnation. It was like stepping onto a path of thorns, knowing full well where it would lead, yet unable to resist the allure of the rose at its center. You had bound yourself to his destiny, and there was no turning back.

When his mother, his last anchor to the gentler parts of his past, died, it was as if the very foundations of his world had crumbled beneath his feet. The light in his eyes dimmed, replaced by a storm of grief so intense that it threatened to consume him.

You could see it in his eyes. There was nothing there, no glimmer of the usual sharp intelligence, no quick wit or dark humor. Oswald Cobblepot was a man who had always fought for control, always strived to stay one step ahead, but in that moment, it was clear that even he couldn’t control the storm raging inside of him. His mother had been the one constant in his life, the one person who had cared for him in the way that only a mother could. She was gone, and with her, a piece of him died, too.

“Do you understand, (Y/N)?” he asked, his voice shaking. The coldness in his eyes was gone now, replaced by something far more dangerous—raw, unfiltered pain. “She’s gone. And I… I’m alone.”

The words cut through you like a blade. You had never seen him so exposed, so vulnerable. For a moment, it felt like the wall he had built between the two of you—between himself and everyone—was cracking, and you could almost see the person beneath all the layers of anger and resentment.

But even in that moment of weakness, you knew better than to think he would let you in.

You reached out to him, but he recoiled. The pain was too much. The fear that anyone could get close enough to hurt him, to take something else from him, was too deep. The walls he had spent a lifetime building slammed back into place, stronger than before, and you were left standing there, desperate and broken.

“I tried to do everything right. I tried to make her proud,” Oswald’s voice cracked. He stumbled backward, his hand gripping the back of a chair like it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. “But it’s never enough. Never. She’s dead, and I still can’t fix it. It’s never enough, is it?”

The tears that had threatened to fall for so long finally spilled from his eyes. You’d never seen him cry—not in all the time you’d known him. But there it was, the most vulnerable moment he would ever give you, the most raw, broken piece of himself. And you wanted to comfort him. You wanted to reach out and take away his pain. But you couldn't.

Because you understood the cost. You understood that even for a touch, even for the slightest moment of connection, there would be consequences. With Oswald Cobblepot, you could never have happiness. You could never have peace. Not when he was so determined to burn everything to the ground.

The days that followed his mother's funeral were a maelstrom of raw, unchecked emotion. It was as if the very fabric of Oswald's being had been torn, leaving behind jagged edges of fury and a bitter resentment that seemed to cling to everything he touched. He moved through the world like a wounded animal, snarling at any attempt at connection, retreating further and further into the solitude he seemed determined to forge. He became a ghost in his own life, his presence a heavy silence that suffocated the space around him. And you, who had shared laughter and whispered secrets with him, found yourself on the outside, gazing in at a stranger. You were left with the hollow ache of what was, and the painful recognition of what was quickly becoming.

The distance between you was not a physical thing, but a vast, icy chasm that widened with each passing day. Every unanswered question, every averted gaze, every sharp word delivered like a blow, contributed to the growing divide. You could feel its chilling tendrils wrap around your heart, squeezing the hope from your chest. You were desperate to reach him, to tear down the walls he was so meticulously building. You yearned to drag him back from the abyss of grief and despair that threatened to consume him. You had seen the light in him, however flickering, and now you watched, helpless, as it threatened to be extinguished. The thought of him disappearing into the darkness, swallowed whole, tore at you with a sharp, possessive grief.

But a grim understanding settled in your bones, cold and heavy as lead. You knew the stories. You had heard whispers of the Cobblepot family's tragic history, of the curse that seemed to cling to their lineage. You had watched Oswald navigate a world that seemed designed to break him. You knew, with a stark certainty that mirrored the unwavering despair in his eyes, that Oswald Cobblepot was a man destined for tragedy. His arc, you realized with a chilling finality, was not bent towards joy but towards a slow, agonizing decline. And as much as your heart ached, as much as you longed to be his lifeline, you knew that reaching for him in his despair was akin to grabbing a drowning man. You wouldn't pull him to safety; you’d only find yourself pulled under by the undertow of his sorrow. You would be dragged down, swallowed whole by the darkness, leaving two souls lost instead of one. The realization was a cruel truth, a bitter pill to swallow, but the hard-won wisdom of survival wouldn’t let you ignore it.

It happened on one of those nights when the weight of the world seemed to rest on Oswald’s shoulders. You found him standing in front of a window, looking out over Gotham, his posture stiff, like he was trying to hold himself together.

“Oswald,” you whispered, hesitant, like stepping into the room might shatter the fragile moment between you.

He turned to face you, his face unreadable, but his eyes—those eyes—told you everything. The pain was still there, raw and bleeding, and no matter how much he tried to hide it, you could see it. You could feel it.

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, knowing there was nothing you could do. “I wish I could make this better.”

Oswald’s lips curled into a bitter, mocking smile. “Make it better?” he echoed, his voice laced with sarcasm and something darker. “You can’t make this better, (Y/N). This is who I am. This is all I’ll ever be.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, but you didn’t back down. You never did.

“You don’t have to be this way,��� you said, your voice faltering. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

But he shook his head, his eyes hardening. “I never asked for your pity, (Y/N),” he spat, taking a step closer to you, his face inches from yours. “You think I need you? You think I can let you in and make this better? Look at me.” He motioned to himself, his voice rising with anger. “I’m a monster. And I will destroy everything in my path, including you, if I have to.”

You could feel his pain, his grief. It consumed him, and you knew that he was right. He would destroy everything in his path, because that was all he knew how to do. He had been abandoned, betrayed, and now, all he had left was the cold, suffocating need for power.

And you. You were just another casualty in his war against the world.

The inevitability had hung over you like a leaden sky, a constant, oppressive weight you’d grown accustomed to carrying. You had known, deep down, that this day, this devastating moment, was lurking around the corner. Yet, knowing didn't lessen the impact. It still crushed you, the wind being knocked out of your soul, leaving you gasping for air in the vacuum of a shattered hope.

The argument, the final, agonizing battle, had erupted in the suffocating stillness of the night. Not the kind of disagreement that could be smoothed over with apologies and understanding, but a brutal, vicious fight that tore at the fabric of your relationship, leaving both of you bleeding and broken on the battlefield of your love. He had unleashed a torrent of anger – yelling that vibrated within the very walls of your home, screams that tore at your eardrums, objects flung with reckless abandon, each one a physical manifestation of the turmoil raging within him. Every outburst, every cruel word felt like a sharp, jagged stone hurled directly at your heart. But beneath the surface of his rage, you saw the truth, as clear as a reflection in a still pond. He wasn’t just angry; he was petrified. His terror was a palpable thing, a suffocating fog clinging to him. The loss of his mother, a wound that clearly hadn’t healed, had fractured him, leaving him a fragile, terrified creature. He was terrified of the connection you two shared, the deep, abiding love that had blossomed between you. He feared the vulnerability that came with caring, the raw exposure of his heart. In his twisted logic, feeling something so profoundly for someone meant leaving himself open to the possibility of being utterly and irrevocably destroyed, a fate he clearly couldn't bear to risk again.

"I never wanted this!" The words ripped through the tense air, his voice cracking with the weight of his confession, the carefully constructed mask of anger slipping, though only for a fleeting instant, revealing the raw, wounded soul beneath. "I never wanted to care about you, (Y/N). I never wanted to need you.” His words, laced with a desperate kind of pain and fear, were like daggers twisting in your heart. The declaration, the honesty behind it, was a devastating blow, a confirmation of the darkness that had taken root within him.

Your instinct was to reach out, to wrap your arms around him, to pull him close to your chest and soothe the tremors wracking his body. You wanted to whisper words of comfort, to assure him that everything would eventually be alright, that you could navigate this storm together, that it didn’t have to end like this. But the cold, hard truth settled upon you, like a shroud. You knew, with a certainty that chilled you to the bone, that words wouldn’t mend this brokenness.

It would never be okay. Not really. Not for him, and certainly not for you. His heart, so deeply wounded, so completely shattered by grief and fear, was beyond repair, beyond any hope of healing. And with a horrifying clarity, you realized that your own heart, bound to his so tightly, was destined to follow him into the desolate, burning ashes of his pain. You were already burning, feeling the heat of his despair, knowing the fire would consume you both. The connection, once the source of so much joy, was now the tether that would drag you down. You were inextricably linked, and his destruction would be yours as well.

In the end, it wasn’t the world that destroyed Oswald Cobblepot—it was himself. And it wasn’t your love that tore you apart, but the knowledge that no matter how much you cared for him, no matter how much you wanted to save him from the darkness, there was nothing you could do. You were both destined to suffer, to burn for each other, and in the end, to lose everything.

Because there was no happy ending for you.

There could never be.

[haifoct]

Happy two months anniversary to Zhuo Yichen & Li Lun sex scene choke episode!

I wish I could say I was exaggerating or joking when I describe episode 23 of Fangs of Fortune as a sex scene between Zhuo Yichen and Li Lun.

And yet. 

No other moment in the series comes close to the sheer intimacy and strange sexual tension of the brutal, unapologetic beating Li Lun puts Zhuo Yichen through.

You’re filled with worry, awe, and guilty excitement as you watch it all unfold; they ensure that hurricane of conflicting emotions sets in motion inside your tight chest because they build it up almost the same way cdramas build up their kissing scenes sex scenes.

To truly appreciate the beauty of episode 23, we need to revisit episodes 6, 16, and 19. Each of these episodes offers an attempt at a fight just the tip and a promise.

"But first, I need to kill you, an even more evil thing."

"I choose for you to die."

Our precious rabid puppy Zhuo Yichen never misses a chance to jump Li Lun like his life depends on it (perhaps it does). He has so much tempter, especially when it comes to Li Lun. Meanwhile, our precious Li Lun meets that aggression with… well? 

In episode 6, Li Lun never truly fights Zhuo Yichen. Instead, he uses Ran Yi as both his blade and his shield before happily escaping, leaving everyone in shambles.

In episode 16, Li Lun mostly dodges Zhuo Yichen’s attacks. First, he stops Zhuo Yichen’s sword with just his fingers, then he seems determined to kill Pei Sijing right on the spot until Zhuo Yichen joins the fight to protect her. Li Lun’s usual cold and calm rage shifts into a cheeky smile, and another flirtatious promise leaps from his tongue.

"Zhuo Yichen, don’t forget. At the final moment, your Cloud Light Sword can kill him."

In episode 19… I have so much to say about this episode, actually, but almost none of it involves Zhuo Yichen and Li Lun. That said, I really enjoy Zhuo Yichen’s decision to stay after casting a glance at Li Lun’s domineering presence.

I just think they’re very pretty, look at them.

Zhu Yan and Zhuo Yichen barely let Li Lun breathe. Attack after attack, and yet none of the blades directed at him hurt as much as the words that pierce his heart. Zhu Yan sets Li Lun on fire again—normal people things—and the last words Li Lun utters before forever losing the human form he developed are a desperate promise and a plea.

"You will kill him one day. Kill Zhao Yuanzhou."

(Quick off topic, I love how troubled Zhuo Yichen looks when he learns about Li Lun literally burning alive, lol) 

All those beautiful moments leading up to episode 23 shows us that Li Lun never wanted to kill or hurt Zhuo Yichen. He wanted Zhuo Yichen. As his companion in revenge against the one person who hurt them both.

Then episode 23 happens.

For happy shippers like myself, it literally starts with Wen Xiao losing her shit over Li Lun possessing Zhuo Yichen, with Li Lun's theme playing during Zhuo Yichen's entrance, and with Tian Jiarui speaking in the voice that Yan An is using for Li Lun. Truly a feast! But that’s not what we’re discussing here.

That damn fight, that damn sex scene.

The only way for me to describe it, it's so personal, and they don’t even know each other long enough to be personal. 

Li Lun promises to Zhuo Yichen while also taunting him, so annoyed by this loud human screaming for Bai Jiu. Makes sure Zhuo Yichen knows it’s him, Li Lun who is s pinning him down into the ground, towering over his body, topping him, with hand on his throat.  

"So noisy. Look closely. I'm not your Xiao Jiu. I'm Li Lun."

What the hell do I know about whether it was a spiteful remark, mirroring Zhuo Yichen’s promises, mocking him, provoking him, or if it was Li Lun’s cold and calm rage speaking, a grievance and pain within him, because this human he had been nothing but kind to dared to help Zhu Yan set him on fire again. Perhaps it was both; perhaps he meant it; perhaps he changed his mind later in the episode and refused to kill unconscious Zhuo Yichen, walking off and letting fate decide whether Zhuo Yichen lives. Perhaps he didn't, simply wanted Zhuo Yichen alive. (*turns him into a demon <3 bc fate can go and fuck itself i guess, Li Lun is fate.*)

The second Truth Eyes hit Zhuo Yichen’s, round, big, and determined eyes, he jumps Li Lun again like a rabid puppy, not a single fuck given about the simplest of truths that if he hurt’s Li Lun, he will hurt Xiao Jiu. 

I cannot lie here. Despite my heart ripping itself apart for Zhuo Yichen, when his dearest friend, his dearest light, his dearest Cloud Light Sword gets broken—over and over again on each rewatch—there’s something so satisfying about watching Li Lun take this fight more seriously than in any of their previous encounters.

It is a gesture of goodwill to keep Zhuo Yichen alive. All those times before. This time? He will show this human his place, and make his pants creamy.

Li Lun not only physically tortures Zhuo Yichen but also psychologically when he breaks Cloud Light Sword in half with needles Bai Jiu carries around (Wouldn’t it be fun if those needles remained from the time when Bai Jiu was supposed to seal Zhu Yan’s touch?)

They're so gorgeous, what the hell?

What a fun human to toy with.

My thoughts get way too explicit after this, and I genuinely can’t find any heterosexual explanation for this.

I see your vision, insane director.

Make sure you kiss your knuckles before you punch me in the face.

I guess Li Lun likes to take Zhuo Yichen from behind.

and watch him struggle at the mercy of his hands as Zhuo Yichen desperately grabs onto them, while Li Lun is unable to resist looking at that unfairly pretty face, luxuriating in every change of emotion he chokes out of him. How beautiful Zhuo Yichen looks then, fighting for his and his dearest friend's life?

What sound does that divine statue make being knocked down, trampled, and trapped in dust? This desperate, fun human, will he get himself up? For his friend that believes in him, trusts him?

"Don't waste your effort. My inner core has been inside Bai Jiu's body for many days. My soul has already solidified, making it much stronger than Bai Jiu's. His soul is nothing but a weak ant compared to mine, which can be easily crushed by me."

I guess Li Lun, then, likes to turn all of Zhuo Yichen to look at his face, again; to have Zhuo Yichen look at him. So Zhuo Yichen comes knowing exactly who fucked him, or whatever Li Lun promised him earlier. 

Listen.

There's a BTS clip of that iconic shot: of Li Lun hiding from those big, round, unyielding, and unafraid eyes by covering Zhuo Yichen's face with his giant hand, eclipsing the light; of Zhuo Yichen biting him, we all know it. And all I can do is wildly gesture at it, at their hands, and rest my case here.

I love Zhuo Yichen and Bai Jiu both biting into the wood to free themselves too much to not mention it again. 

That hopeless wish to save Bai Jiu is the only thing that keeps encouraging Zhuo Yichen to fight against that demonic strength, that so very human body.

"Give Xiao Jiu back to me!"

"No. <3"

Humans and ants and divine statues are so amusing when they try to stand up as you crush them.

Letting Zhuo Yichen pierce his heart wasn’t even remotely part of Li Lun’s plans. What’s really fun to me here is disbelief and shock on both their faces. One offended, confused, and "How dare you kick Miette? Jail!"; the other confused, unwavering, hopeful. 

By episode 23, have surely learned two things that cannot be argued with:

If you bite Li Lun, he will bite harder.

Li Lun doesn't want Zhuo Yichen dead.

That punch in the throat made me audibly gasp the first time I watched this episode. Then I held my breath and released a relieved sigh. Li Lun was satisfied with simply toying with that awfully loyal and fascinating human. Perhaps all Li Lun ever wanted from that fight was a chance to touch that divine statue.

Obviously, I must remind you that the sex scene fight between Zhuo Yichen and Li Lun, unfolds as Wen Xiao and Zhao Yuanzhou share their own adorable almost-kiss scene, full of 300 years of yearning. Just saying, FoF is a perfect C-drama formula with a main couple and a second couple.

Cannot wait for insane director to make some bitter and hilarious references, much like how he ridiculed those supporting Gong Shangjue and Shangguan Qian by making a satire on them in Fangs of Fortune. But this time in Veil of Shadows.

GJM kicks his feet and giggles like Wang Xingyue as he makes Yan An and Tian Jiarui hold hands on the set of Veil of Shadows. His ship has sailed.

And so has mine.

Happy lunchen sex scene day, yay!

[bitkahuna]

“I don’t know what you’re doing, but it won’t work.” He wanted to be firm, but he wasn’t sure he has the strength he needed. Fighting was hard. Weakness was easy.

Thranduil smiled, a soft curve of his lips that did not reach his eyes but still managed to seem sincere. "Oh, but Master Baggins, I am merely expressing my admiration. There is no artifice here." He leaned closer, the scent of pine and age-old wisdom enveloping Bilbo like a cloak. “You see, Master Baggins, in you, I see what so many of us have lost over the endless years: passion for life. A genuine joy. Appreciation of those little and quiet moments. I find you compelling.”

Bilbo’s breathing picked up. This was a mistake. A horrible mistake. While the dwarves could give him everything he never knew he wanted, there was something horrifyingly familiar in this moment. It was the romance and seduction Bilbo had always read about. Always dreamed of. The tender words and blurry mornings that led to messy beds. Yavanna help him, he didn’t want to say no. More than anything, he wanted to allow himself this. It was so perfect. So real. He could reach out and touch it. It could touch him. But a single touch, he knew, would end him.

“The words you speak to me, I’ve only ever read.” His heart lurched as he fought to keep it within his chest. Would he really choose this? Would he choose impending violence and a cold mountain over the warmth of this bright morning?

He could bargain, no doubt. Offer his body, his mind, his soul, his spirit, one or all to the elf king in exchange for his friends’ release. Tell them the bargain required him to stay behind and wish them well. Forget it all. Stay here. Lay back in the comfy haze and let the king do as he pleased.

“Which is precisely why I cannot let this continue.”

Rather than offense, more than anything, the king was curious.

“This is everything a hobbit could ever dream of. And I do not doubt that I intrigue you in the way you say. But just because I look a young fool does not mean I am one.” He shook his head. “This isn’t real. You want what you’ve lost because you cannot accept what you have. I would never be that for you, because I do not hate you enough to trap you in your past.” Bilbo stood in rejection of the sun.

———

The chambers were silent. Every hobbit in each room was sat before Bilbo, bated breath, as one of their own rejected an elf king.

“How could you?” Someone whispered, horrified.

Bilbo tried to smile, but it was flat. Tears threatened his eyes. His heart swelled. All he could think of was Thorin’s face in the moonlight. “I cannot explain.”

Bilbo would sit there, lost. Wondering. He could have had it all. He could have had so much. Yet that stinking dwarf in the dungeon, with his promise of a dragon's fire and a vague notion of a crown, kept him rooted in the ground in such a way that the sunlight’s haze would never have been able to take him. He was the cool glow of the moon.

Something weighed deep in Bilbo, and he took another sip of alcohol flavored with raspberries.

Was he mourning?

What did he mourn?

Why did he ache to think of Thorin when the man was only down the hall, perfectly safe and happy to be with him?

Or was it the end that never was? The haunting possibility that Bilbo could have made the wrong choice. He could have chosen to stay, and lost the dwarf forever. It was that very thought, he realized, that made him mourn for some version of himself that couldn’t have what he did now.

But the tears didn’t fall from his eyes until they landed on Mirabella Brandybuck. A spry and wise woman of nearly seventy, still appearing as in her late-middle age, as all elder hobbits do. She looked beautiful and radiant. But there was a sadness in her eyes. A knowing.

She lost her dwarf decades ago. Bilbo had his.

In that moment of brief eye contact, they both knew.

He sat by her, and she took his hands in her own.

“You know, Bilbo. I see the way that dwarf king eyes you.” She muttered, wanting to keep this between themselves. “I understand the choices you made.”

His lower lip trembled at the deep sadness within her voice.

“I had my own husband, my own children.” She trailed off as she fought back her shame. “And I did love him. My husband was a dear man, and he will always be in my heart.” She covered her reddening face with one fist, not wanting to show her sadness. Her hate. Her mourning. Was she truly allowed to love another man after her husband passed? They were only gifted ten years together before he passed in Fell Winter, and she was left with a small horde of cold fauntlings. “My children are my truest love.” She nodded firmly, calming herself despite the way her heart sank in its disgrace. “But I fear I’ve fallen in love with a ghost.” She shook her head. “He’s likely passed on as well.”

“Do you regret not chasing him?”

“No. Never.” She didn’t hesitate even a moment. “The children I had with Gorbadoc Brandybuck are the greatest joy I have ever known. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.” Mirabella let a small smile come about her. “But, that charming dwarf.” Her eyes closed a moment, letting the tears fall so she could quickly wipe them away. “He may always haunt me as the greatest what-if of my life. I only hope I was able to haunt him the same.”

And so it was that they would both mourn for things that never were.

———

It was literally supposed to be a funny chapter about Bilbo telling the other hobbits about how Thranduil had hit on him to get him to admit why the dwarves were passing through Mirkwood but I wrote something else instead.

[thirtysomethingloser92]

Summary: One year on and you're forced to save Remy's life. Sequel to this Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Smut. (Smut writing isn't as great as I hoped it would have been. Ya girl got tired.)

You shouldn’t have even gotten out of bed this morning.

The regret gnawed at you, sharp and relentless, as you leaned against the cold steel wall of the war room. You’d barely slept last night, but that brief sliver of peace—wrapped in the warmth that was Remy LeBeau—should have been enough to remind you to stay. His arms had been around you, strong and grounding, his hands cupping your breasts as he moved inside you with that unrelenting, intoxicating rhythm only he could manage.

You should have stayed where you could feel his lips grazing your neck, his breath warm and ragged against your ear as he whispered to you.

Mon amour, he had said, his voice a low murmur that vibrated through your chest. Tu es le morceau qui manquait à nos vies. The missing piece of his and Anna’s lives. He’d said it like it was the simplest truth in the world, a fact etched into the fabric of the universe itself. And instead of answering, you froze. A coward, through and through, letting your head fall back against his shoulder as his words hung heavy in the air.

You should have replied. Should have turned to face him and said those three words that had been clawing at your throat, begging to be let out. But you didn’t. Instead, you tilted your head back and kissed him, pouring everything you couldn’t say into the meeting of your lips. You hoped he’d understand, that the desperate press of your mouth against his would be enough.

But now you were here, standing in this room that felt far colder than it had any right to be, arms crossed over your chest like some futile shield against the storm brewing in your heart. You stayed near the far wall, away from the table where Scott was droning on, his voice a monotone blur of words you couldn’t bring yourself to process. Sitting any closer would mean paying attention, and you couldn’t do that. Not when the only thing your mind could focus on was the empty seat next to Anna—the one that should have been occupied by him.

You knew you should be there, sitting beside her, offering whatever comfort you could muster. But even from across the room, you could see it—the rigid tension in her shoulders, the way her jaw was set like granite. She hadn’t said a word since stepping off that plane, her movements mechanical and hollow as she approached you.

You’d seen the blood trickling down her forehead, the dirt smeared across her face and arms, and the look in her eyes—a mixture of fury and anguish so raw it made your stomach twist. She’d barely managed to choke out the words. “I tried.” Her voice had cracked, but she forced the rest out. “They took him. I don’t know where he is.”

Her gaze had lingered on you for just a moment, but it felt like forever. Her green eyes, glassy with restrained tears, searched your face, silently pleading for you to say something, anything, to make it better. But you stood there, rooted in place like the idiot you were, unable to find the words she so desperately needed. Her lips parted as though she might say something, but nothing came out, and the unspoken blame in her eyes cut deeper than any words could.

You didn’t know who she was angry at—herself, the team, the world, or maybe even you. Maybe all of the above. The lines of guilt and frustration etched into her features told you as much. But none of it mattered because Remy wasn’t here, and you had no idea how to fix that. Guilt clawed at you, relentless and unforgiving.

You wanted to go to her, to reach out and tell her it wasn’t her fault, that you’d find him and bring him back. But how could you say that when you couldn’t even tell Remy how much he meant to you? The memory of your silence haunted you, weighed you down. You felt paralyzed, the words you should have said to both of them choking you from the inside out.

Still, you had to do something. The ache in her eyes demanded action, even if it was small, even if it was inadequate. So, you did the only thing you could. You led her to your room, a quiet space where she could fall apart if she needed to. You guided her to the bathroom, sat her on the counter, and pulled on a pair of gloves. The stark barrier reminded you of all the other walls between you, but it was necessary—for her, for you, for what you were about to do.

The silence was thick as you began cleaning her wounds. You worked with deliberate care, your gloved fingers ghosting over her skin with a gentleness you hoped she could feel. You dabbed at the blood on her temple, wiped away the grime that clung to her cheeks. The tension in her body slowly eased as she let her eyes close, leaning into the quiet comfort you offered.

Your hand lingered on her cheek, cupping it for just a moment, and that’s when you saw it. A single tear slipped down her face, followed by another. Her lips trembled as she whispered, “I’m sorry.”

God, you hated everything about this. Hated seeing her like this, blaming herself for something that wasn’t her fault. Hated knowing that no matter how much you wanted to, you couldn’t offer her the one thing she needed most—physical comfort. You wanted to kiss her, to press your lips to her tear-streaked cheeks, to her trembling mouth, and make her believe that everything would be okay. But that was impossible.

Instead, you kissed her shoulder, the fabric of her shirt a maddening barrier, kissed the crown of her head where her hair smelled faintly of the battlefield. You hugged her without really touching her, your arms circling her, but your skin never meeting hers. You hated that too. Hated the reality of loving someone like Anna-Marie. A reality where your love could never be fully expressed, never be uncomplicated, never be simple.

You ran the shower for her, adjusting the temperature to just the right warmth, because you didn’t know what else to do. The steady rush of water filled the silence between you as you helped her undress, your gloved hands carefully unfastening her uniform. You turned away as she stepped into the shower, giving her privacy, but it wasn’t just modesty—it was the weight of everything unsaid between you, everything you couldn’t fix.

While Anna stood under the shower spray, you tried to busy yourself, gathering clean clothes for her. The repetitive task was supposed to ground you, to keep you from spiraling, but your hands trembled anyway. The sound of the water drowned out the silence in the room, but it couldn’t drown out the ache in your chest. You felt useless. You couldn’t fix this—not the pain that radiated from Anna in every exhausted breath, not the jagged hole that Remy’s absence had left in both of you.

And worst of all, you couldn’t fix the gnawing fear that Remy might not come back. That somewhere out there, he was hurting—or worse—and you were here, helpless. The thought carved into you like a blade, sharp and relentless. It twisted deeper with every passing second, every moment you weren’t out there looking for him. All you could do was hold everything together, even as the cracks in your own resolve widened, threatening to break you apart entirely.

Loving Remy and Anna had come to you as naturally as breathing. You never had to think about it, never had to question it—it simply was. Even though the words I love you hadn’t left your lips, you hoped they knew. That even in your silence, they were your everything. And you knew, with every fiber of your being, that they loved you just as fiercely.

You knew it before Remy ever said the words. You saw it in the way his eyes lit up when you entered the room, how he looked at you like you were a spark of light in an otherwise dark world. He didn’t have to say it; his actions screamed it louder than any words could. The way his lips lingered on yours during a kiss, the way he would pull you into his lap with that mischievous grin, whispering teasing but affectionate words into your ear.

Anna showed her love differently, but no less passionately. She let you see her in ways she never showed anyone else. She leaned beside you on the kitchen counter during quiet moments, talking softly about things she barely admitted to herself. She trusted you with her vulnerability, her laughter, her tears. You saw it in the way she let you hold her, let you press soft kisses to her head while you both lay entwined on her bed, trading secrets in the dark. And you saw it every time she fastened that cursed collar around her neck—despite the headaches it gave her—just to feel your skin on hers for a few fleeting moments.

It had been a seamless transition. From three close friends to three people completely and irrevocably in love. Nothing and everything had changed. You and Remy still bantered across the room, but now there was heat behind it, a teasing flirtation that left you both grinning like fools. You and Anna still painted each other’s nails and snuck off to town for lunches, but now there were lingering touches, hands brushing and holding as though neither of you wanted to let go.

There was no grand announcement, no dramatic declarations of what you were to each other. But the team noticed the difference. Maybe it was the way Anna’s face softened when you walked into the room, or the way Remy’s fingers absentmindedly stroked your hair while your head rested in his lap after a long day. No one was surprised by the unconventional relationship. They simply accepted it. And more than that, they respected it. Where it had once been Anna and Remy, it was now Anna, Remy, and you.

That was why you stood apart now, away from the group as Scott went over the plan to find Remy. You couldn’t bear the looks they kept giving you. Jean’s soft glances toward you and Anna, the subtle shifts in the room as if they were trying to tiptoe around your emotions, grated on your already raw nerves.

Whether it was pity or sympathy they were offering, you didn’t want it. You hated the idea of being coddled, hated the way their eyes lingered on you like they were waiting for you to break. And you knew Anna hated it too.

You had told her to stay behind, to rest, to recover from her injuries. The words were practical, logical, but they felt hollow even as you said them. You knew they wouldn’t land. The moment they left your mouth, you saw the fire in Anna’s eyes, a raw determination that could have cut through steel. There was no force in the world, not even you, that could stop her from going. The man she loved was out there, and if it came to it, she would burn the entire world to ashes to bring him back.

And you understood that completely. Because the same fire burned in your chest.

The Federation. That’s what they called themselves—a self-proclaimed force of Anti-Mutant mercenaries with a dangerous ideology, an even more dangerous following, and enough firepower to back their hatred. They thrived on fear, weaponizing it, feeding off it like parasites. Their propaganda painted people like you, Anna, and Remy as threats to humanity. Monsters.

They wanted to make you the enemy.

And you were ready to prove them right.

The anger simmered inside you, bubbling hotter with each passing moment. Sitting with Anna in the mess hall, the silence between you both had only amplified the fury. Watching her struggle to keep it together, her fingers twitching as if itching to grab something—anything—to fight with, fueled your own fire.

And then came the war room. The sterile, suffocating space where Scott laid out his careful plans. His voice was steady, controlled, assigning each of you your role in the larger operation. He talked about contingencies, about minimizing risk and keeping the team safe. His words were rational, precise, but they barely registered in your mind. You sat there, every muscle in your body coiled tight, your fingers digging into your arms as you forced yourself to stay quiet.

Because if you were being honest, plan or no plan, it didn’t matter.

You were bringing Remy LeBeau home.

Whether they liked it or not.

The thought of Remy in their hands was enough to make your chest ache and your vision blur with rage. He wasn’t just anyone—he was one of the only two people in the world who had ever made you feel like you mattered. Remy loved you wholly and unconditionally, despite knowing all the broken parts of you. Despite the walls you’d built around yourself, the mistakes you carried, the silences you often fell into.

You remembered the way he looked at you, his crimson eyes softening in a way they never did for anyone else. The way his lips would curve into that infuriating smirk, his voice dripping with charm when he teased you—but there was always a sincerity behind it. He saw you. All of you. And he still chose you.

He was the first person who taught you that being loved didn’t mean being judged. That love could be light and warmth, not a weight or a burden. He made you feel safe in a way you hadn’t thought possible.

And now he was out there, with those bastards who thought they could take him from you.

Your fists clenched at your sides, your anger bubbling dangerously close to the surface. You could feel it, the fire in your veins, the storm building in your chest. They thought they could take him—your Remy. They thought they could make you powerless, that they could strip away the only good things you had in your life.

They were wrong.

You weren’t just going to bring him home. You were going to make them regret ever touching him. They thought they could fear mutants? They hadn’t even begun to understand what fear was. You were going to bring that group to their knees, tear apart everything they’d built, and make sure they never forgot the name of the one who destroyed them.

<><><><><><><><><> The hangar was cold, the hum of the jet engines faint in the background as the team moved with quiet efficiency. You and Anna sat off to the side, sharing a rare moment of stillness amidst the chaos. The harsh fluorescent lights above cast stark shadows on her face, highlighting the weariness in her eyes.

“He’s coming home,” Anna said softly, her voice a fragile promise as she leaned against the crate opposite you. Her arms were crossed tightly, her fingers digging into her sleeves as if holding herself together.

You didn’t look up immediately, focused instead on lacing your boots. The tension in your shoulders betrayed you, but you forced a smirk onto your face, stomping your foot on the ground as you finished one boot and pulled the other onto your foot.

“He doesn’t really get a choice, does he?” you replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you tightened the laces. “And when he gets back, I swear to God, he better go to that bakery and get us those muffins—”

“The ones with the white chocolate in them?” Anna interrupted, her lips twitching into a faint smile.

You nodded enthusiastically. “God, yes. They’re so good.”

She chuckled softly, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Anna knew exactly what you were doing. She could see it in the way your hands moved a little too quickly, in the way your voice carried that forced lightness. You were trying to stop your mind from spinning, trying to keep the anxiety at bay. The what ifs clawed at you, and she knew because they were doing the same to her.

What if he wasn’t okay? What if you couldn’t get to him in time? What if he wasn’t there at all? What if…

The questions swirled in her head, threatening to pull her under. But she wasn’t about to let them show, not when she could see you doing everything in your power to keep her grounded.

Usually, before a mission, the three of you were inseparable. Remy always had a way of grounding you and Anna, his presence as steady as it was electric. He’d be there, leaning lazily against a wall or a table, shuffling his ever-present deck of cards with that infuriatingly smooth smirk plastered across his face. His accent dripped with charm as he delivered some teasing remark meant to cut through the pre-mission tension.

“You two scared yet? ‘Cause I ain’t carryin’ y’all outta there if you freeze up.”

Anna would roll her eyes at him, but the corner of her mouth would twitch in amusement. You, of course, would take the bait, firing back with a playful jab. The banter would flow easily from there, each jab met with another, until Anna finally intervened. “You two done? Or should I just leave y’all here to fight it out?” she’d say with mock exasperation.

By the time the three of you boarded the jet, the tension would be gone, replaced by laughter and camaraderie. That rhythm—so familiar, so comforting—was what held everything together. It was what made you believe that no matter what, you’d all make it back.

But this time was different.

This time, the mission had come, and you weren’t going to be there. Instead, as Remy prepared to board the jet, he’d turned to you. His eyes, crimson and burning with something deeper than just love, met yours as he pulled you into a kiss that was anything but casual. His hands had tangled in your hair, holding you close like he was afraid to let go.

When he finally did, he didn’t say much—he didn’t have to. His forehead rested against yours for a moment, and in that silence, everything was said.

Then you’d turned to Anna. Her green eyes had met yours, filled with worry and a quiet kind of understanding. You’d taken her gloved hands in yours, pressing a kiss to each palm as if sealing a promise in the gesture. “Keep him safe,” you’d whispered, your voice breaking just slightly.

She’d nodded, pulling you into a tight hug. You felt the way her arms wrapped around you, the way her grip lingered, as if drawing strength from you. But you both knew the truth—you were just as scared as she was.

On the jet, Remy had tried. He really had. His voice had carried the same cocky lilt, and he’d tossed a few half-hearted jokes in Anna’s direction.

“Y’know, chérie, this jet’d be a lot prettier if it came with drinks. What’s a Cajun gotta do for a little hospitality, huh?”

She’d managed a faint smile, but it didn’t last. The usual spark of their banter wasn’t there, dulled by the space where you should have been.

Anna stared out the jet window, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She couldn’t shake the hollowness inside her. It wasn’t just the worry gnawing at her—though it was relentless—but the absence of you. Usually, she’d glance to her left or right and find you there, a quiet source of comfort. Without you, the cabin felt colder, the walls closer, the silence oppressive.

For Remy, the emptiness hit differently. He’d crack a joke and pause, waiting for your inevitable retort, but the space remained filled only with static. His hands moved restlessly, shuffling his cards, flipping one over now and then, but even that felt hollow. You weren’t there to roll your eyes and mutter about him being a show-off. The weight of your absence was palpable, a silent ache that filled every glance Anna exchanged with Remy on the jet. There had always been an unspoken rhythm between the three of you—a perfect balance that grounded her even in the most chaotic moments. Without you, the balance was shattered, leaving her feeling adrift, as though she were stepping into the unknown with no tether to guide her.

Now, as you finished tying your boots, Anna watched you rise and walk toward her. She leaned against the wall of the hangar, arms crossed in what looked like casual defiance, but inside, she was barely holding herself together. Her green eyes studied you as you approached, the faint clink of your boots on the metal floor the only sound in the cavernous space.

“He owes us so hard for this,” you said, a small smile tugging at your lips as you tried to inject some levity into the moment. Your tone was teasing, warm, the kind of tone you always used to cut through the tension.

Anna didn’t respond right away. Instead, her gaze lingered on your face, her sharp eyes tracing every detail. She saw how tightly your jaw was set, the way your shoulders squared as if you were bracing yourself against the storm of emotions threatening to spill over. Your hands flexed and curled at your sides, fingers twitching as if desperate for something to hold on to.

She knew what you were doing. She knew you were pushing your own fear and anger deep down, trying to lock it away so you could be strong for her. You were always like that—always putting others first, even when it cost you. And it nearly broke her heart.

Anna loved you for that. She loved you for so much more. She loved you for the way you made her feel safe when nothing else did. For the way you always knew when to tease her out of a bad mood or when to just sit quietly beside her, offering nothing but your presence. She loved the small moments: the way you brought her coffee exactly how she liked it without asking, the way your fingers would brush hers when passing a tool during a repair job, the way you looked at her like she was the most important person in the room.

She loved you for the nights when the three of you would lie tangled together, sharing whispered secrets and stolen kisses in the dark. For the way you’d press your lips to her gloved hands, the affection in your eyes saying everything the words couldn’t. For the way you never once flinched at her touch, even when she couldn’t promise it wouldn’t hurt.

Anna straightened as you stopped in front of her, her expression softening. She stepped closer, her boots scraping faintly against the floor as she closed the distance between you. “We’re getting him back,” she said, her voice low but steady, laced with the same fiery determination that burned in her chest.

You nodded, your own resolve mirrored in your expression. For a moment, the two of you just stood there, locked in a silent agreement. No matter what it took, no matter how far you had to go, you were bringing Remy home.

Anna’s fingers twitched as though she wanted to reach for you, to take your hand and let you feel the strength she was drawing from you. She didn’t move, though; she didn’t need to. She could see it in the way you stood tall, the way your eyes burned with quiet fury.

And beneath that fury, she saw the same love she felt—the unyielding, all-consuming love that would carry the two of you through whatever came next.

If the Federation thought they could take Remy without consequence, they were about to learn just how wrong they were.

<><><><><><><><><><> The chaos of the fight unfolded around her, but Anna’s focus was unshakable—her attention locked on you as you moved through the fray. It wasn’t just the sheer power you wielded that struck her; it was the fury radiating off you like a storm unleashed. That raw, unbridled rage wasn’t something Anna had seen in you before. It was terrifying and beautiful all at once.

Your hands glowed with energy as you fought, that crackling light arcing through the air and coiling around the necks of the armed mercenaries. It wasn’t wild or uncontrolled; it was precise, a deadly extension of your will. You pulled them down one by one, their bodies hitting the ground with sickening thuds that reverberated through the hangar.

“Enough!” Scott’s voice cut through the chaos like a whip, sharp and commanding. He’d already pulled you up on it once, and now he was barking at you again. “We’re here to bring Remy home, not kill everyone in sight!”

But Anna saw the way you barely spared him a glance, your focus razor-sharp as you took out the next threat. This wasn’t blind rage. No, you weren’t reckless—recklessness implied carelessness, and nothing about your movements was careless. You were calculated, every strike deliberate, every motion planned with precision.

Anna watched as you moved through the chaos, like the eye of a hurricane: calm, focused, and devastatingly effective. Your energy wasn’t wild; it was controlled devastation, and it was clear you knew exactly what you were doing, even if no one else could see it.

And Anna never once made the move to stop you.

Because she knew you were right. These people—the Federation—they weren’t just an enemy. They were a plague, hunting mutants like animals, killing without remorse, and spreading fear wherever they went. They weren’t going to stop. Not unless someone stopped them first.

Side by side, you and Anna fought as you always had. There was a rhythm to the way the two of you moved together, an unspoken understanding that needed no words. She would strike high, and you would go low. You’d create openings with your energy blasts, and she’d capitalize on them with a devastating punch or kick.

But this time, the stakes were so much higher. This wasn’t just a fight for survival or a mission to save innocents. This was personal. This was about bringing Remy home.

Anna could feel the weight of that urgency in every punch she threw, every blow she blocked. She felt it in the way her heart pounded in her chest, her breaths coming hard and fast as she pushed herself to the limit. She felt it in the burn of her muscles and the sting of a cut on her arm she barely registered.

Anna couldn’t take her eyes off you as you moved ahead of her, your energy burning so brightly it seemed to light the dim corridor. Every step you took, every movement of your body, radiated an intensity she had never quite seen before. This wasn’t the same woman who had kissed her palms with a tenderness that made her heart race or traced soft circles on her back during quiet moments. That gentleness was there somewhere, buried beneath the layers of fury and focus, but right now, you were someone else entirely.

You were a force of nature.

“Behind you!” Anna’s voice rang out as her gloved hand shot forward, grabbing a nearby mercenary and slamming him into the wall. But even as she moved, she saw you react with lightning speed. You didn’t flinch. You didn’t hesitate. Your energy surged, wrapping around the man who had crept up on you, and with a sharp motion, you yanked him to the ground.

For a fleeting second, your eyes met hers. And in that moment, Anna saw everything you were holding inside—the rage that burned hotter than your energy, the desperation clawing at your chest, and the iron determination that told her there was no force on this planet strong enough to stop you.

This wasn’t just about strategy or duty. This was war.

Side by side, the two of you moved down the corridor with unrelenting purpose. The air was thick with tension, the faint hum of distant alarms and the occasional shout of mercenaries echoing around you. Anna watched your jaw, tight and set, and felt her chest tighten. This wasn’t the version of you she was used to—the one who always had a dry, sarcastic remark ready to cut through the tension, the one who could make her laugh even in the darkest moments.

Now, there was no smirk, no humor. Just silence and a storm brewing inside you.

Before she could call out, you surged ahead, spotting a group of mercenaries with their backs turned. Anna barely had time to register what was happening before you launched yourself forward with deadly precision. Your legs wrapped around the shoulders of one of them, twisting his body with such force that he crumpled to the ground in seconds. The dull thud of his head hitting the concrete was quickly followed by another, as you used his fallen body as leverage to take down the second man.

Anna moved to join you, but by the time she reached your side, you had already dispatched two more. One went down with an energy blast that slammed him into the wall, the other crumpled under a brutal punch that left him unconscious on the ground.

You turned to her, your eyes sharp and focused, and held up a small device that beeped faintly in your hand. “Through here,” you said simply, your voice devoid of the usual warmth or levity she was used to.

Anna felt a pang in her chest as she nodded, following you to the door. She watched the way your shoulders were taut, the way you barely seemed to breathe, like you were holding everything inside, keeping it locked away until you could unleash it on the people who had taken Remy.

This wasn’t just a rescue for you. It wasn’t just about bringing him home. It was about proving something—to them, to yourself. And as much as it pained Anna to see this side of you, she understood it. Because she felt the same fire burning in her own chest.

She reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder as you worked on the lock, her voice quiet but firm. “You need to breathe. He’s going to be okay,” You glanced back at Anna, just for a fleeting second, and in that instant, she saw the smallest flicker of the woman she loved—the one who could make her laugh even in the darkest of times, the one who would touch her face with the kind of tenderness that always made Anna’s heart stutter. But it was gone before she could even fully appreciate it. In its place, the woman standing before her was someone different. You were cold, unrelenting, eyes locked onto the task ahead with a focus that couldn’t be broken by anything. You were a storm, and nothing was going to stand in your way.

Anna shook off the tug in her chest and pressed forward. She could only hope that when this was all over, she would find that softer side of you again. But she couldn’t afford to focus on that now. Remy needed her. And so did you.

When she finally found him, the sight of him nearly stopped her in her tracks. Remy was leaning against the far wall, his head tilted back in exhaustion. His usually tousled hair was matted with sweat, some strands clinging to his pale face, his once-bright eyes dimmed by pain and exhaustion. The moment his gaze fell on her, something in his eyes shifted—a mix of relief, disbelief, and something else, something that made her heart squeeze. He looked at her like she was a vision, like she was the answer to a prayer he hadn’t dared to voice aloud.

The corner of his mouth twitched up in a pained, crooked smile, the expression weak but genuine. “It’s damn good t’ see you,” he breathed out, voice hoarse, every word sounding like a struggle.

Anna didn’t hesitate. She quickly crossed the space between them, her hands finding his face, cupping it gently as if she were afraid he might shatter under her touch. Her fingers traced over the roughness of his skin, the warmth of his body, reassuring herself that he was really here, that he was still breathing.

“How badly are you hurt?” she asked, her voice breaking slightly as she forced herself to focus, to keep it together for him.

Remy’s gaze wandered briefly, as though searching for the right words. He motioned weakly to his side, his breath coming out in short, ragged bursts. “Few broken ribs maybe? Pretty good shape considerin’.” He said it easily, but Anna saw the way his body flinched with each breath. She could tell that he wasn’t just trying to downplay the pain; he had already been through hell, and now that he was in her arms, the adrenaline was beginning to fade, leaving him vulnerable, exhausted.

But what bothered her more than his injuries was the way his eyes kept flicking around, searching, almost as if he was waiting for someone else. As if he was waiting for you.

Anna’s stomach tightened at the realization.

She gently lifted his shirt, revealing the dark bruises and deep cuts that marred his chest and abdomen. Her heart clenched at the sight of him like this, barely conscious, struggling just to stay awake. The wounds were severe, but it was the sight of him—pale, disoriented, and too still—that made her feel the weight of their situation. She could feel the question in his eyes, the unspoken need for reassurance. He wanted to know where you were. She could see it in the way his gaze darted toward the door. He needed to know if you were okay.

“She’s covering me while I get you out,” Anna explained, her voice tight but steady. “The others are holding the line until we get you out of here.”

She looked down at her hands, blood staining her gloves as she traced her fingers over the bloodstained fabric of his shirt. “You’re bleeding,” she murmured, already searching for the source of the fresh crimson stains that marked his body.

Remy shrugged weakly, a grimace crossing his face as his eyes dulled with exhaustion. “No idea. Can’ really feel much righ’ now,” he admitted. “Dey gave me somethin’. I can’t… I can’t charge anythin’. I can’t feel anythin’.”

Anna’s heart ached at the way he said it—like a part of him was already resigned to the fact that he was barely hanging on. She reached out and gently touched his cheek, trying to offer him some semblance of comfort, though she knew there was little she could do to make him feel better. She needed to stay focused, though. Remy wasn’t the only one with wounds.

“I just need to find a key to get you out of these cuffs,” she said, voice soft but firm, as she scanned the room for the keys or anything she could use to free him.

Before she could continue, a voice broke through the tension, low and heavy with a mixture of exhaustion and determination.

“These what you’re looking for?”

Anna’s head snapped up just as you poked your head through the door, your eyes locking with hers. Your face was covered in droplets of blood, some of it yours, some of it from the mercenaries you’d already taken down. You looked… different. The usual calm composure was gone, replaced by something raw and fierce in your eyes. There was a weight to your gaze, an ache that spoke volumes.

You held out a bundle of keys, your hand steady despite the chaos that had unfolded around you. Without waiting for a response, you tossed the keys to her, the metal clinking as they landed in her hand. Anna’s gaze briefly flickered to you before quickly shifting back to Remy, her heart pounding in her chest as she realized the enormity of the moment.

She could see the strain in your eyes—the need to step forward, to be there for him, to touch him, kiss him, to make sure he was alive and whole. But you didn’t move. Instead, your eyes narrowed slightly as they landed on Remy, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “You look like shit, Cajun,” you said, your voice filled with a mixture of sarcasm and something else, something that only they knew.

In that moment, Anna felt something shift inside her. The tension that had been clinging to her chest, the fear, the worry that had been building up since they first laid eyes on each other again—slowly, steadily, began to dissolve. It wasn’t a sudden change, but a subtle release, like the tension easing from her shoulders after months of carrying a burden too heavy to bear.

She’d known that Remy was in trouble, had known the risks from the moment they walked into this hellhole, but hearing the two of you banter, hearing the familiar back-and-forth of you and Remy, it was like hearing a piece of her old world snap back into place. Despite the blood, despite the bruises, despite the wreckage of their bodies and minds, this—this was the two of you. This was the rhythm that she had been missing, the small, ridiculous jokes, the playful teasing, the love wrapped in sarcasm and gruff tones.

It was as if the very essence of who you were had come alive again. Anna saw it in the way you couldn’t resist sparring with Remy, even though every movement made your body scream in pain. She saw it in the way your voice wavered with the faintest trace of your old humor. The love, the tenderness, the connection that had always tied the three of you together—it was there, flickering to life like a spark igniting in the darkest of nights.

Remy’s smile was weak, but it was there, and it was all Anna needed to see to know that, despite everything, there was hope. She couldn’t help but smile, her heart swelling just a little at the sound of you two slipping back into your familiar banter.

"Comin’ from you mon amour?" Remy shot back at you, that small grin curling at the corner of his lips, the fire in his eyes sparking to life, even if it was just a flicker.

You turned to her, and that soft humor was still lingering in your expression. “Need a hand getting him up?”

Remy scoffed, trying to sit up straighter, but Anna could see the effort it took. His body wasn’t cooperating the way his bravado was. “I can walk,” he insisted, though it was clear to anyone in the room that walking wasn’t exactly an option.

You raised an eyebrow, your expression a perfect mix of dry sarcasm and affection. “You look like you went four rounds with Captain America,” you said, your voice flat, but there was an underlying warmth to it that Anna could feel, even from where she stood.

Despite everything, despite the pain you were hiding behind the sharp edges of your words, there was still something good in you, something familiar that made her feel like she could breathe again. For a moment, just a moment, Anna forgot about the chaos outside, the soldiers closing in. All that mattered was the relief of hearing the two of you, together, joking like it was just another mission, just another fight.

But then there was a sound outside the room—a faint shuffle of boots, a quiet murmur of voices. The tension returned to Anna’s chest, the weight of time crashing back in. The sound was enough to snap her back into reality.

You heard it too, and your eyes darted toward the door. There was a split second of quiet, a silent exchange between the two of you. And then, with a quick glance toward Anna and Remy, your face hardened, the playful glint fading from your eyes.

“Times up,” you said, your voice low but steady, your hand tightening around the doorframe as if ready to spring into action. “You gotta go. I can hold them off but make it fast.” There was no hesitation in your voice, no second of doubt in your decision. The moment the words left your mouth, you were already moving, the weight of the mission falling into place as if it were just another objective on your mental checklist. You didn’t need to say anything else, didn’t need anyone’s approval or support. You had a job to do, and nothing—nothing—was going to stop you from completing it. Without looking back at Anna or Remy, you stepped into the chaos, into the fire, prepared to face whatever came next as though it was just another day in the field.

Anna watched you, and for a brief, painful moment, she felt that all-too-familiar tangle of emotions stir inside her. Admiration. Frustration. Worry. You were always like this, never allowing yourself to be vulnerable, always the one who carried the weight of the world, putting everyone else before yourself. She had seen it so many times before, but this time, it was different. It wasn’t just a mission. It wasn’t just another fight. It was Remy. It was you.

She turned back to Remy, pushing the worry aside as best as she could. She couldn’t let it take over now, not when he needed her. Her hands trembled slightly as she held the keys, sorting through them quickly, her fingers fumbling as she tried to find the right one. She slid one in, but it didn’t work. She cursed softly under her breath, trying again. She didn’t know if it was the pressure of the situation or just her mind racing, but it felt like every second counted.

“She's doing that thing,” Anna muttered to herself, frustration threading through her words. She tried another key. “You know, the one where she pushes down everything she’s feeling because she’s trying to be the strong one for everyone else?”

She could hear Remy’s soft, raspy chuckle as he shifted beside her. Despite everything, despite how broken and bruised he was, he still found a way to smile. “Yeah. I know it well,” he breathed, his voice low, strained, but full of affection. “She’s always been like dat.”

Anna didn’t respond right away, focused on the task at hand, but she couldn’t help the tiny, soft smile that tugged at her lips. “Even since we got here,” she continued, her fingers trying a different key, “There wasn’t a thing that was gonna stop her from getting to you. Not the Federation, not the damn walls, not even... well, not even herself.”

She paused for a split second, surprised at the truth of the words coming out of her mouth. Her breath caught as the key clicked, the cuffs falling open with a satisfying click that seemed to echo in the silence of the room. She exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, her heart beating louder in her chest as she helped Remy sit up.

He grinned, a tired but genuine smile spreading across his face as he looked up at Anna. “Dat’s my girl,” he said softly, the admiration clear in his voice despite the pain that dulled his words. His gaze softened as he looked around the room, the chaos of the mission fading into the background for a moment as he took in the sight of her. “You and her. The two of you.”

Anna looked at him, and for a moment, she saw more than just the warrior Remy had become. She saw the same man who, months ago, had made her laugh until she couldn’t breathe, the same man who always tried to make the world feel just a little less heavy, even in the darkest of times. Her heart swelled, and she reached out, slipping her arm around him to help him rise.

As she pulled him up, she couldn’t help but smile, the weight of everything still lingering, but softened by his presence, by the comfort of knowing that they had each other.

“She’s our girl,” Anna corrected, her voice low but filled with affection.

Remy chuckled softly, wincing as he shifted. “Yeah, our pain in da ass,” he added, the hint of his old humor returning. There was something comforting in the way he spoke, something that made Anna’s heart feel just a little lighter, despite everything they had gone through.

She gave him a knowing look as she helped him move, guiding him carefully toward the door. “You’re right about that,” she said, her voice steady but tender as she helped him toward safety, her thoughts flickering briefly to you. You were out there, fighting alone, but for once, Anna knew—knew—that you weren’t alone in your heart. Not really. You had them. And they had you.

<><><><><><><><><><><> Remy watched you, bemused, his smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as you moved about the bedroom, gathering the laundry on the floor. You were wearing nothing but a large, loose shirt that hung just above your mid-thigh, your hair pushed back from your face in a casual, effortless way. The soft light from the bedside lamp bathed you in a warm, golden glow, casting delicate shadows that accentuated the lines of your face. Remy couldn’t help but stare, a mix of admiration and love swirling in his chest as he took you in.

God, you were beautiful. Even after everything, you were still the most captivating person he had ever laid eyes on. He had never been one for sentimentality, but in this moment, with you moving around him so quietly, so cautiously, it all felt overwhelming.

You were trying to keep your distance. He could see it. Anna had mentioned it to him on the way back, the way you had stayed on the far side of the jet, the way you’d barely looked at him since the moment he’d come out of that hellish ordeal. He knew what it was—he saw it in the way you moved, the way your eyes kept flicking nervously to his, as if afraid of getting too close, too vulnerable. You were worried about him. More than that, you were scared, and you didn’t know how to show it without losing yourself in the emotion.

“Ya gotta stop fussin,” Remy finally said, his voice low but warm, an easy smile tugging at his lips as he watched you. You turned to look at him, pausing just for a moment before you went back to gathering the clothes from the floor. The silence between you was thick with unspoken words.

“I’m not fussing,” you shot back, your tone a little sharper than you intended. “If I was fussing, you’d know about it.”

Remy studied you for a moment, watching your back as you worked, knowing there was more beneath the surface. He said nothing, simply observing, until his gaze softened, his voice quieter now. “Cher, ya ain’t even looked at me since we boarded dat jet.” His words landed heavy between you, his eyes never leaving you as he saw the subtle shift in your body language. You froze, a tightness in your jaw as you clenched it. You swallowed hard.

“You don’t think I haven’t noticed?” he added, quieter, a raw honesty in his voice now.

The air around you seemed to thicken, and you couldn’t quite look at him. Your breath caught in your throat as you worked to keep your composure. It was as though every word you had been holding back for days was now starting to surface, unwilling to stay hidden any longer.

The room felt small, the weight of everything pressing in on you. You could feel the ache in your chest, the growing knot that had been building since the moment he’d been pulled from the wreckage. You turned toward him slowly, finally meeting his gaze. Your heart clenched as you saw him—the man you loved, the man who was still here, still alive. But the thought of losing him...

“I almost lost you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, the words scraping against the lump in your throat. Your chest ached as your eyes traced the lines of him, from the sharp muscles in his chest, to his arms, his jawline, and then his eyes—his eyes that looked at you with nothing but devotion.

The intensity in his gaze broke you.

“I almost lost you,” you repeated, taking a shaky breath as your voice cracked. “And I never told you that I loved you. I never told you.” You swallowed again, the words burning in your throat. “You told me, and I... I didn’t say it back. I was so damn scared, and I didn’t say it back. And now, I...” Your voice trailed off, overwhelmed by the enormity of what you almost lost, the rawness of the truth.

Remy’s expression softened, his eyes glimmering with understanding as he watched you, his heart aching for you. He shook his head gently, his smirk reappearing, but there was something else in his eyes now—something warm, something that reached deep into your soul. “You never needed t’ say it back, mon cœur,” he murmured, his voice steady but full of affection. “I know. And so does Anna.” He held out his hand, waiting, patient as ever, for you to take it.

You met his gaze, searching his face as you slowly reached for his hand. His fingers curled around yours with ease, drawing you toward him. He guided you gently until you were sitting on his lap, your legs straddling his, facing him. He was warm beneath you, steady, and you could feel the strength of his presence, even as he rested his hands on your thighs. His touch was tender, but there was an intensity to it that sent shivers down your spine.

He pushed your hair away from your face, his eyes studying you as though memorizing every detail of your face. “All I could think about,” he murmured softly, his voice raw, “was you. Was Anna.” He gave a small, knowing smile. “All the things da three of us never did.”

You snorted softly, rolling your eyes as you shook your head. “You’re such a sap,” you teased, unable to hide the warmth spreading through your chest as you looked down at him. You laughed softly, but your heart felt lighter, the weight of your earlier fears slowly lifting.

“I love you,” you whispered, the words finally flowing from your lips without the restraint you’d held them with before. “And I’m sorry it took you almost dying for me to say it.”

Remy’s eyes softened as he looked up at you, his expression a perfect blend of love and understanding. He leaned forward, his lips curling into a mischievous smirk. “Better late den never, non?” he teased.

The moment Remy's lips met yours, everything else fell away. It was as if the world stopped turning for just a second. You poured every ounce of emotion—relief, love, longing—into that kiss, the one that had been building between you for what felt like an eternity. His lips were warm, insistent, and soft, but the way he deepened the kiss told you everything. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, his fingertips pressing against the delicate skin there with a familiarity that was both comforting and electrifying. His tongue brushed against yours, slow and deliberate at first, before the kiss became more urgent, more heated, as if both of you were trying to make up for all the time lost, all the fears you had carried without speaking them. The taste of him, the feel of him, was intoxicating, and for those few moments, it was just the two of you—no past, no future, just now.

The kiss was everything. It was love in its most raw, unguarded form. You felt like you could lose yourself in it and never look back. You melted into his touch, into his warmth, and you were convinced that if the world ended in this moment, you would die happy, knowing you had this—him—here with you.

But then, a soft sound broke through the haze of your thoughts—the unmistakable creak of the door opening. You reluctantly pulled away, gasping for air, your chest heaving as you turned to see Anna stepping into the room.

She stood in the doorway, a small, affectionate smile playing on her lips as she surveyed the scene in front of her. You were still seated in Remy’s lap, your hands intertwined, your faces flushed from the intensity of the moment. Anna's eyes softened, her gaze flicking between the two of you.

“So, I’m assuming we’re all staying in here tonight then?” she said with a soft laugh, her voice laced with amusement as she stepped forward. Her hand placed a metal box on the bedside table with a quiet clink.

You and Remy exchanged a glance before your attention turned to the box. The three of you knew exactly what was inside—something that allowed Anna to suppress her abilities just enough to be able to touch you, to feel you in a way that was impossible when she wasn’t wearing it. You hadn’t realized how much you craved that physical closeness until Anna had started wearing it more often.

“Honestly, I’m fine going back to my own room. He snores anyway,” you teased, half-heartedly trying to swing your leg off Remy’s lap. But before you could move, Remy’s hands pressed gently on your thighs, guiding you back down into position, keeping you close to him. He didn’t say anything, but the way his hands caressed your skin made it clear that he wasn’t ready to let go, not yet.

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway. “Apparently, I’m staying in here tonight again. This is becoming a habit.”

Remy’s fingers traced small circles on your legs, as though to reassure you that there was no hurry, no need to rush. He was content, his body relaxed under your touch.

Anna grinned at the exchange, her eyes softening as she came and sat on the edge of the bed. "Well, good. It feels wrong when you're not in here with us," she said quietly, her tone gentle and sincere.

You felt a flicker of unease in your chest. It was a fleeting moment, but it made your stomach tighten uncomfortably. Anna and Remy had always shared this space. You could see it in the way their belongings were scattered together, the way they moved with an easy familiarity that came from years of being entwined in each other’s lives. They had history together—years of laughter, of love, of shared moments. And sometimes, when you were alone with your thoughts, a sharp pang of jealousy would flare up. The subtle way their lives were woven together before you ever came into the picture—it was hard not to feel like you were intruding.

But in that moment, as Anna settled next to you, her presence warm and familiar, you reminded yourself that this was your place too. You belonged here. You weren’t an outsider, no matter what your mind tried to tell you. Remy and Anna had both reassured you in their own ways, without words, that you were part of this. You were loved. You were wanted. And they needed you just as much as you needed them.

Remy must have sensed the shift in your mood. His hand, which had been idly stroking your leg, stilled for a moment, then gave a small squeeze, his thumb brushing over your skin in a comforting gesture. His voice was soft, concerned, but laced with a quiet strength. "You okay, cher?"

You nodded quickly, forcing a smile as you placed your hand over his, grounding yourself. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you said, your voice betraying none of the vulnerability you were feeling.

Anna reached over to unlock the metal box, pulling out the circular band inside. Without a word, she attached it around her neck, the gesture simple but somehow filled with meaning. You couldn’t help but smile as you watched her, the relief of knowing she’d be able to connect with you both again settling in your chest.

As Anna climbed over the bed, joining you both in the shared space, she hesitated for a moment, her eyes flicking between you and Remy. You reached out without thinking, your hand slipping into hers, a silent reminder that you weren’t afraid of her, of her powers. You loved her just as much as you loved Remy, and this connection—this bond—you shared was something you wanted to nurture, not hide from.

Remy broke the silence, his voice teasing but warm. “You know, cher,” he began, his hand gently grasping Anna’s hand, “She loves me.”

Anna turned to look at you with a smile that was part teasing, part affectionate. “Really now?”

You rolled your eyes, a laugh escaping you as you shook your head. “Oh, I regret saying anything now.”

Remy’s hand slapped your thigh lightly, a grin playing across his face. “No take backs,” he teased, his voice filled with that same playful energy that you loved so much. Anna let out a loud laugh as she nudged you with her arm, “You’re stuck with him now,” She warned, “Like one of those stray cats you feed in the street. Once you tell him you love him, that’s it, game over.” She joked as she moved aside slightly, watching as you slid off his lap and next to her, your knees brought up to your chest. A smile crossed your face as you watched the way Anna moved towards Remy, her fingers tracing the bruising on his side. You watched the way he tensed under her touch, the way the goosebumps spread across his skin.

“You two are killing me right now,” He groaned, looking between the two of you. A smirk crossed Annas face as she kissed him just above his nipple. Your grin widened as he tilted his head back and shook his head, you saw the way he swallowed, the way he closed his eyes.

Remy’s groan filled the room, low and desperate, as Anna’s lips brushed against his skin again. Her fingers traced the faint bruise along his ribs, her touch feather-light but deliberate. His breath hitched, his muscles tightening under her attention. You sat there, watching, your heart thrumming in your chest, a wicked smile tugging at your lips.

Anna smirked, her dark eyes glinting with mischief. “Good.” She nipped at his collarbone, her teeth grazing just enough to make him jerk. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his hands gripping the edge of the bed beside him. You could see the tension in his arms, the way his knuckles whitened as he fought to stay still.

You moved closer, your eyes watching the scene in front of you. Your hand moved to brush Anna’s hair away from her neck, pressing a soft kiss just below her ear. She shivered, leaning into your touch, her lips parting as she turned her head to look at you. There was something electric about her gaze, something that made your stomach twist pleasantly.

“He’s trying so hard not to lose it,” you murmured, your voice low and teasing. Your fingers danced up Anna’s spine, feeling the way her body arched slightly under your touch. She let out a soft hum, her eyes half-lidded as she glanced back at Remy.

“Maybe we should help him with that sugar?” she suggested, her tone playful but laced with hunger. Her hand slid down Remy’s torso, her nails trailing lightly over his abs before dipping lower under the blanket. He hissed, his hips jerking forward involuntarily.

“Fuck,” he choked out, his voice shaking. His eyes flicked between the two of you, dark with need. “You’re both… fuckin’ relentless.”

You chuckled, leaning in to press another kiss to Anna’s shoulder. Her skin was warm, soft, and you couldn’t resist sinking your teeth into the curve of her neck. She gasped, her fingers tightening on Remy’s hip. The sound she made went straight to your core, hot and insistent.

“Relentless?” you echoed, pulling back just enough to meet Remy’s gaze. “Lebeau, we haven’t even started.”

Anna laughed, a low, throaty sound that sent a shiver down your spine. She moved away from Remy, turning to face you fully. Her hands reached for the hem of your shirt, tugging it up slowly. You raised your arms, letting her pull it off and toss it aside. Her eyes roamed over your exposed skin, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.

“Gorgeous,” she breathed, her hands settling on your hips. You felt the heat of her palms through the thin fabric of your underwear, and you bit your lip, your pulse quickening.

Behind her, Remy groaned again, his fists clenching at his sides. “You really gon’ do dis to me, huh? Just… leave me here?”

Anna glanced over her shoulder, a wicked grin spreading across her face. “Don’t worry, swamp rat. We’ll get to you.” She turned back to you, her fingers hooking into the waistband of your underwear. “But first…”

She dropped to her stomach, her hands sliding down your thighs as she pulled your panties down in one smooth motion. The cool air brushed against your skin, making you shiver, but the heat of her breath so close to where you needed her most had you trembling for an entirely different reason.

Her hands gripped your hips, steadying you as she leaned in, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh. You exhaled sharply, your fingers tangling in her hair. She looked up at you, her eyes dark with desire, before finally closing the distance.

Her tongue slid through your folds, slow and deliberate, and you gasped, your head falling back. She moaned softly, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure through you. Her tongue circled your clit, teasing, and you tightened your grip on her hair, urging her on.

“Anna…” you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper. She responded by sucking gently, her tongue flicking against your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your knees nearly buckled, but she held you firmly, her mouth working you with skill and precision.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Remy shift, his gaze fixed on the two of you. His jaw was clenched, his chest rising and falling rapidly. You reached out a hand towards him, crooking your finger. “Come here,” you managed, your voice shaky but commanding.

He didn’t hesitate, moving forward until he was close enough for you to touch. Your free hand found the waistband of his underwear, yanking them down with help from him. He was already hard, his cock straining against his stomach, and you wrapped your fingers around him, giving him a firm stroke.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his hips thrusting into your hand. You grinned, tightening your grip slightly, and he shuddered. “You’re… both…”

Anna pulled back, her lips slick as she looked up at you. “I thought you wanted him begging,” she said, her tone teasing. Her hands slid up your thighs, squeezing lightly.

“Oh, he will be,” you replied, your voice low and full of promise. You glanced down at Remy, your hand moving slowly along his length. “Won’t you, Cajun?”

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Yes,” he breathed, his voice hoarse. “Whatever you want, just… please.”

Anna chuckled, sitting up and wrapping her arms around your waist. Her breasts pressed against your back, her lips finding your ear. “He needs to learn what happens when he makes us worry like this. Maybe next time he’ll listen to orders,” she whispered, her breath hot against your skin.

Your heart raced, your body humming with anticipation. You nodded, your fingers tightening around him as you moved him off the bed. “On your knees,” you ordered, your voice firm.

He obeyed without hesitation, sinking to the floor in front of the bed. Anna released you, stepping around to stand beside him. She ran her fingers through his hair, tugging lightly, and he groaned, his head tilting back to look up at her.

“Look at you being a good boy,” she purred, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “Aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he whispered, his eyes fluttering shut as she tugged harder.

You moved off the bed and crouched behind him, “Spread your legs,” you instructed in his ear, your voice soft but commanding. He obeyed immediately, shifting to give you better access. You reached around, your fingers trailed up the inside of his thigh, brushing against his balls before moving higher.

Anna knelt in front of him, her hands cupping his face as she kissed him deeply. You watched for a moment, captivated by the way they moved together, before focusing on your task. Your tongue darted out, licking your lips as you moved in front of him, crouching down and taking him in your mouth. You listened as he moaned into Anna’s mouth, his hips bucking slightly.

A grin crossed your face as you looked up at him, “Do you like that?”

He nodded, his breaths coming in short, uneven gasps. “Yes,” he managed, his voice strained. “Cher you…”

You didn’t need any further encouragement. Your tongue licked down his shaft as he let out another loud moan, bucking as you once again sucked him into your mouth.

Anna pulled back from the kiss, her lips swollen and glistening. She looked down at Remy, her fingers threading through his hair as she gave it a sharp tug. “Look at you,” she said, her voice thick with arousal. “Completely at our mercy.”

His eyes met hers, heavy-lidded and desperate. “Yours,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Both of yours. Always.”

The words sent a thrill through you, your body aching with the need to take him, to claim him. But you weren’t done yet. Pulling back slightly, you moved to grasp his cock, stroking him firmly as your tongue continued to tease him.

Anna shifted, her hand sliding down to join yours. Together, you worked him, your movements synced perfectly. His breath came in ragged gasps, his hands turning into fists on the floor as he struggled to hold on.

“That’s it,” Anna coaxed, her voice soft and encouraging. “Let go for us, sugar.”

He shook his head, his teeth gritted. “Not… not yet…”

You smirked, slowing your hand and pulling back completely. He whined, his hips jerking forward, seeking friction. “What’s wrong?” you teased, your voice light. “Can’t take it anymore?”

“Fuck,” he begged, his voice breaking. “Cher don’ you stop. Not now…” You and Anna grinned as you both let go of him, moving back slightly. You saw the dark look on his face as you gave him a shit eating grin. You ran your hand though his hair, moving close to him as you leant down and whispered, “Maybe next time you’ll think twice about pulling a stunt like today again,” You tugged his hair as he let out a loud moan before you moved back towards the bed.

Remy’s breath hitched as he looked between the two of you, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His eyes, dark and hungry, locked onto yours, and for a moment, it felt like the room had stilled. The air was thick with tension, heavy with the unspoken promise of what was to come.

“You think you’re in control,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, dripping with desire. “Oh mon amour you have no idea.”

Anna let out a soft laugh, her fingers still trailing along his bruised side. “Oh, we know exactly what you’re capable of,” she purred, leaning in to nip at his earlobe. “And we’ve been enjoying every second of it.”

But Remy wasn’t having it. In one swift motion, he grabbed Anna’s wrist and pulled her up, his other hand sliding around your waist and yanking you with them. You gasped, startled by the sudden shift in power. His lips brushed against your ear, his breath hot and ragged.

“You’ve been playing with fire,” he whispered, his voice a dangerous growl. “And now… it’s my turn.”

Before you could react, he spun you around, pressing you face-first against the wall. Your hands instinctively braced against the cool surface as you felt his body press into yours from behind. Anna let out a surprised yelp as Remy pinned her against the wall beside you, his free hand sliding up her thigh.

“Remy…” Anna breathed, her voice trembling with a mix of shock and excitement. “What are you—”

He cut her off with a searing kiss, his lips crashing against hers with raw intensity. You watched from the corner of your eye, your heart pounding as Anna melted into him, her moans muffled by his mouth. When he finally pulled away, her lips were swollen, her cheeks flushed.

“Both of you,” he said, his tone commanding, “Always pull dis shit wit; me. An’ now, it’s time I return de favor.”

You felt his hand slide down your back, gripping your hips firmly. He leaned in, his lips brushing against the nape of your neck as he spoke. “You’ve been so good,” he murmured, his words sending shivers down your spine. “But I think it’s time I remind you who’s really in charge here.”

His grip tightened, and before you knew it, he was spinning you around to face him. His eyes burned with hunger as he lifted you effortlessly, pressing you back against the wall. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, and you could feel the hard length of him pressed against you, throbbing with need.

“Remy…” you whispered, your voice shaky with anticipation.

He smirked, his hands roaming over your body as he claimed your lips in a bruising kiss. Your head swam with the intensity of it, the way his tongue danced with yours, the way his teeth nipped at your bottom lip. When he finally pulled away, you were left breathless, your chest heaving.

“Watch,” he commanded, turning his attention to Anna.

She stood there, her eyes wide and filled with desire, her lips parted as she waited for whatever he had in store. Remy stepped closer to her, his hands sliding up her arms until they reached her shoulders. With a firm push, he guided her to her knees, his gaze never leaving hers.

“Be a good girl,” he said, his voice low and demanding. “And show me how much you want dis.”

Anna’s hands trembled as she reached for his cock. Her lips parted, and without hesitation, she took him into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the tip.

Remy groaned, his head tipping back as he tangled one hand in her hair, guiding her movements. His other hand reached out, grasping your thigh and pulling you closer. You bit your lip, feeling the heat building between your legs as you watched Anna pleasure him.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice strained. “Dat’s it… just like dat.”

Anna’s moans vibrated against him, her pace quickening as she took him deeper. You could see the way his muscles tensed, the way his hips bucked slightly, desperate for more. But then, without warning, he pulled away, leaving Anna gasping for air.

“Not yet,” he said, his voice tight with restraint. “We ain’t done here.”

He turned to you, his hands gripping your arms as he pushed you face down on to the bed, him following you soon after. You felt the hot, wet tip of his cock brush against your core, and you whimpered, arching your back as he teased you.

“Please,” you begged, your voice trembling. “Remy…”

He smirked, his grip tightening on your hips as he pushed into you slowly, inch by agonizing inch. Your nails dug into his shoulders as he filled you completely, his girth stretching you in the most delicious way. A low groan escaped his lips as he began to move, his thrusts deep and deliberate.

“Look at her,” he growled, tilting your chin toward Anna. “She’s watching us, loving every second of it.”

You turned your head, meeting Anna’s gaze. Her eyes were dark with lust, her lips swollen and glistening. She licked them slowly, as she watched Remy fuck you with reckless abandon.

“Do you like what you see?” Remy asked her, his voice taunting.

Anna nodded eagerly, “Yes,” she breathed. “God, yes…”

Remy chuckled darkly, his pace quickening as he continued to pound into you. “Den why ain’t you here?”

Without hesitation, Anna climbed onto the bed, positioning herself in front of you. Her fingers traced your lips, and you opened your mouth, letting her slip them inside. You sucked on them greedily, your tongue swirling around her digits as Remy’s thrusts grew harder, faster.

“Good girl,” he praised, his hand reaching down to spank your ass sharply. You cried out, the sting only fueling your desire as he continued to drive into you.

Anna leaned in, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. Her tongue dueled with yours, her hands roaming over your body as Remy dominated you from behind. The combination of sensations was overwhelming—the way he filled you, the way Anna’s touch ignited your skin—and you felt yourself teetering on the edge of bliss.

“I’m close,” you panted, breaking the kiss. “So close…”

“Not yet,” Remy growled, slowing his pace. “You’ll come when I say you can.”

He pulled out of you abruptly, leaving you empty and aching. Anna whined in protest, but Remy silenced her with a look. He grabbed her roughly, flipping her onto her stomach and pulling her hips up. You watched, your breath catching, as he positioned himself behind her.

“Your turn,” he said, slapping her ass hard. “Show me how much you want it cherie.”

Anna moaned, pushing her hips back eagerly. Remy didn’t make her wait, plunging into her with a single, powerful thrust. She cried out, her nails digging into the sheets as he set a punishing rhythm.

“Like dat?” he taunted, his hand gripping her hair and pulling her head back. “Tell me how much you love it.”

“Yes!” she screamed, her body writhing beneath him. “God, yes!”

You crawled closer, unable to resist the sight of them together. Your hand slid between her legs, finding her swollen clit and rubbing it in slow circles. Anna’s moans grew louder, her hips grinding against your fingers as Remy fucked her relentlessly.

“Come for us,” you whispered, your lips brushing against her ear. “Let go…” With a strangled cry, Anna did just that, her entire body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure ripped through her. Remy followed soon after, his thrusts growing erratic as he spilled himself inside her with a guttural groan.

“Fuck,” He groaned as he pressed his head into your shoulder, “Fuck,”. You laid down next to Anna, your face meeting hers as you kissed her gently, “God I love you,” You whispered to her. Her eyes fluttered open as she looked at you, her cheeks flushed as she reached up to run her hand through your hair, “I love you so much more,” She breathed as she pressed her lips to yours. Remy pulled out, looking down at you both for a moment, “I need to sort you out,” He breathed, looking at you. You shook your head, “I can do it myself,” You breathed. Remy smirked, “You know me better than dat Cher,” He said as he grabbed your legs, pulling your legs off the bed and pushing them up before crouching down in front of you. He presses his lips to your inner thighs, his hands gripping them ever so slightly to keep them still. You look over at Anna who was looking at you, her hand tracing your face before making their way down to your nipples, pulling and tugging at them as you gave a loud moan.  You felt the way Remy’s mouth began pressing kisses to your folds before finally sinking his tongue in your center. There, he began to suck and lick you delicately, like he wanted to taste every single bit of you.  You could feel the knot in your stomach, the all too familiar feeling of wanting to let go, you let out a loud moan as his fingers plunged deep inside you and his tongue continuing to circle your clit softly. Anna pulled you into another kiss as she pressed her tongue into yours. “Fuck, you taste so good,” Remy breathed as he came up, smirking as you let out a groan of disappointment. Anna reached in between your folds, her fingers lightly stroking you as she rested her head on her hand, watching with a smile as Remy torturously kissed his way up your stomach and chest, making sure to pay special attention to your breasts; his tongue circling your nipples and his teeth gently pulling at them. “This is payback isn’t it?” You breathed as you felt the goosebumps rise against your skin. Another moan as you felt Anna’s fingers dipped inside of you, “You asshole Lebeau,”. Remy looks up and smirks at Anna who kisses him deeply in front of you, her hands withdrawing from you. You watch as she brings her fingers, slick with you, to his lips; her eyes dark as he slowly sucks them. She runs her hand through his hair as he turns back to you. He hovers over you, watching you closely as he slowly enters you, your nails scratching down his shoulders in pleasure. You let out a moan as he fully enters you. You could hear him swear in French as he rests his forehead on your shoulder. He moves and looks at you, kissing you as you bring your hips to meet his. As the pace quickens, he grabs your hands, pinning them above your head, kissing you deeply, a loud moan echoing through the room. You could feel Anna’s hands gripping your wrists, pressing her lips to the inside of them. The two of you move together, your bodies in sync as he thrusts into you. Each movement sends waves of pleasure through your body, your breath coming in short gasps as you meet his hips with your own.

He continues to kiss you, his lips hot and hungry as they explore your mouth. His hands are still holding yours above your head, keeping you pinned in place as his fingers now threaded through the other womans as well.

A shocked squeal escapes your lips as he lifts you off the bed with ease, sitting you up on top of him as you hold on to him with your hands, your legs wrapped around him. You start gently moving, his forehead pressed against yours, he captures your lips once again as you both start to move in sync.   Your eyes met Annas who was now sitting by the bedhead, watching you both with that familiar look of love and adoration. Her bottom lip was caught in between her bottom lip as she watched you both with darkened eyes. As you turned back to Remy and begin to move together, his hands were on your hips, guiding you as you rock back and forth. You could feel him deep inside you, each movement sending waves of pleasure through your body.

"You feel amazing," he murmurs, his voice low and husky.

"Stop fucking talking,” Was all that was able to come out of your mouth as he continuously hit that spot.

You continue to move together, your bodies in sync as you explore each other. You can feel the way your bodies fit together, the way he fills you up completely. It's a feeling of completeness, of wholeness, that you've never experienced before him.

As you move together, you can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. But this time, you're not in a rush to get there. Instead, you savour every moment, every sensation. You explore every inch of him, your hands roaming over his chest and back. You almost lost him today. And you refuse to let yourself go another minute without savouring him, savouring the time you all had together.

You can feel the way his muscles tense and release beneath your fingertips, the way his breath catches in his throat as you hit just the right spot. You can feel the way he responds to your touch, the way he moans and gasps in pleasure.

He continues to kiss you, his lips hot and hungry as they explore your mouth. His tongue traces patterns on your lips, your tongue, your teeth. You can feel the way he tastes, the way he smells, and it's intoxicating.

As the pleasure builds, you can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. You could feel the tension building in your body, the way your muscles tightened and released. You could feel the way your breath came in short gasps, the way your heart raced in your chest.

Finally, you can't take it any longer. “Remy, fuck,” Your body trembling as you come undone in his arms. He follows shortly after, his whole body tensing up as he reaches his peak. You can feel his teeth sink into your collarbone as you press a kiss into his shoulder, his arms tightening around you. The air in the room was thick with the lingering warmth of intimacy, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a golden hue over the three of you. The scent of skin and faint traces of lavender from Anna’s lotion mingled with the subtle crispness of Remy’s cologne. He pressed a kiss to your neck, his lips lingering just long enough to feel the steady rhythm of your pulse beneath his skin. His forehead rested against you for a moment, his breath warm and steady.

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice low and full of sincerity.

He knew he should move, but he wasn’t ready to let go of the moment. Slowly, he reached back, smiling when Anna’s hand met his. Her fingers were soft but firm as she intertwined them with his, pressing her lips to the palm of his hand. She moved closer, her bare skin brushing against his back as her arms came around him, cradling the space between him and you. Her touch was tender as she brushed a lock of hair from your face.

Remy tilted his head slightly, watching the way Anna’s lips pressed to your forehead. The connection between the three of you felt so tangible, so grounding, as though the world outside didn’t exist. His chest swelled with emotion—love so deep and pure it almost felt overwhelming. He’d never thought he’d have this, this sense of home wrapped up in two people who had become his everything.

You opened your eyes, giving Anna a lazy, half-lidded smile that spoke of complete contentment. The sight tugged at something deep inside Remy, and he couldn’t stop himself from smiling, his trademark grin softening into something more vulnerable.

“So,” he asked, a playful gleam returning to his eyes as he leaned back slightly to get a better look at you. “How long you planning on staying in here? Considering I apparently snore and all.”

You stretched your arms lazily, your shirt nowhere to be found, and gave him a teasing smirk. “Forever,” you whispered, your tone mock-serious but with a glint of truth behind the word.

Remy’s heart flipped at the sound, the simplicity of it hitting him like a bolt. Forever. It was the answer he hadn’t realized he needed to hear. Anna’s voice, soft and sure, echoed your words. “Forever sounds good.”

He watched as you slid off him with a grin, moving across the room to grab your shirt. He admired the way you moved, graceful even in your teasing. Pulling your shirt over your head, you threw them a grin before heading toward the bathroom. As the door closed behind you, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

God, he loved you. He loved you in ways he couldn’t put into words, in ways that made the thought of forever with you feel not just possible but necessary.

Anna pressed a kiss to his shoulder, her lips soft and warm, and he turned to face her, catching the glint in her green eyes that mirrored his own feelings. “Forever,” she whispered again, her voice dreamy, almost as if speaking the word aloud would cement it into reality.

Remy cupped her face gently, his thumb brushing along her jaw as his lips hovered just above hers. There was no rush in his movement, no urgency—just pure adoration. When their lips met, it was soft at first, growing into something deeper as he poured every ounce of his love for her into the kiss.

Pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against hers, Remy let his eyes close for a brief moment. His voice, low and heavy with emotion, broke the quiet. “Yeah, ma chérie. Forever sounds real good.” The words weren’t just spoken—they were a promise, a declaration of everything he felt and everything he would give to keep this moment, this love, this family they had built.

When he opened his eyes, he saw it reflected in hers. That same love, deep and unwavering, shining back at him like a beacon. It was the kind of love that anchored him, the kind that softened the edges of a life that had too often been sharp and cruel. Her lips curved into a small smile, and it felt like sunlight breaking through a storm.

As they sat there, the room bathed in the golden glow of the bedside lamp, the quiet stretched between them, not empty but full—full of everything they didn’t need to say. Anna’s hand found his, their fingers intertwining with a gentle squeeze, and for a moment, Remy felt like he could finally breathe.

He gave her a smile, one that was soft around the edges, full of that playful charm he always carried but tempered now by something deeper. His heart felt full to bursting as he thought of you in the other room, teasing and laughing with them one minute, and completely stealing his breath away the next.

Forever.

The word settled into him, not just a hope but a truth he was ready to hold onto with both hands.

Just him and his girls. His heart, his home, his everything.

[pardonmydelays]

when i was 18 years old i was dating a boy who was treating me like a princess. he was absolutely perfect. before i graduated high school he told me he can't wait for me to lose touch with all of my friends so he can have all of me just for himself.

when i was 20 years old i was dating a boy i had a huge crush on back when we were teenagers. he didn't really care about my interests, only about his own. whenever i was feeling down he was telling me that i should be on meds cause i'm fucking crazy.

when i was 21 years old i was dating an older guy. he was smart, intelligent, we had a lot in common. he was trying to change a lot about me tho. he told me once that he will never be able to love me as much as i love him.

when i was 24 years old i was dating a boy i thought i was gonna marry. our relationship was super messy, but i loved him so much. he had huge problems with alcohol. during one of our last fights he told me i should kill myself.

i'm 28 years old and i have trust issues. i'm scared to talk to people, i'm scared to open up to someone cause i already know how it's going to end. and i'm only saying this now because i'm tired of people telling me that i should find myself a boyfriend.