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bumpkinspice0 · 1 month ago

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No One Knows the Trouble, Honey, That We've Been Through 1/3

Logan Howlett/ Wolverine x Mutant!FemReader

Chapter Rating: Mature

Word Count: 6.2k

Summary: You're an X-Man... well, you used to be. You left years ago, and in the aftermath of an attack on X-Mansion, Charles has asked you back to help repair the damage to the estate. An easy job for an earthmover like yourself. Still, after years away from your old home, you feel like a stranger again. So much has changed and you're not sure where you fit in anymore. The newest X-Men member isn't helping your mood either. You're not sure where they found Logan, and you're still trying to figure out what to think of him. The mans barely said anything to you. He's not the typical stray Charles would take in, but then again, neither were you when he brought you here.

AN: Like everyone else, my Wolverine obsession has also re-awoken. So I made a quick little 3 part fic to cope with it. Let's see if I can rest now This leans into the movie-verse of the x-men (He's tall because Hugh Jackman is tall lol) but I think I wrote it in such a way that you can imagine it in whatever version of the x-men you like best. Warnings: Emotional baggage, fluff, angst, self-doubt, anger issues?, alcohol, getting drunk, flirting, Logan is drunk babysitter, this is a little corny but I don't care, eventual smut

Series Masterlist

Part 2. Part 3

AO3 if you prefer to read there

_______

Stepping on the soil of the Xavier estate felt odd in a way you hadn’t anticipated, like standing on hallowed ground you’re unworthy of being on. Funny, years ago you only knew it as home. Now you’re just a stranger to the rocks beneath your feet. Still, Charles asked you back. He asked for your help.

The grounds around X-Mansion were unrecognizable.

They were decimated in this latest attack. Storm assured you all the children got out safely, thank god. The estate took all the damage. The house had been rebuilt but the surrounding lands were… rough. Ripped-up roots and protruding rocks where gardens and trees once stood. The walls of the mansion were now bare of its usual sprawling ivy, freshly reconstructed for probably the dozenth time in its life— another failed attack from another ignorant enemy.

You look at the destroyed earth around you, the real reason you were here. This is why he called you.

Soil, dirt, and rocks were where your powers lie. You could move the earth itself, sense the minerals beneath your feet, see the world around you through the touch of stone. Dozer your friends called you when you first came here— short for Bulldozer . You always hated it but it’s unfortunately the name that stuck. Now it’s just… part of you.

You weren’t the best student. You were angry when you came here at the ripe age of 13 after a rather unconventional childhood. Things were done to you you could never forgive. In a lot of ways, you were still angry. Used by the people you should have trusted most. Seen as less than human. A tool. A mutant.

And that’s when Charles found you.

The Professor took you in when he had no obligation to— and you fought every step of the way. You realize now it was your fear acting out rather than anger. Still, you were an X-Man… for a while. You thought you found your place. It was a good few years but you wanted more. You wanted to prove the world wrong. Be more than just a mutant. People always say a life well lived is always the best revenge. That’s what you wanted, a good life you forged for yourself despite the world's hatred towards you— and you left the X-Men behind to do it.

Once an x-man, always an x-man, Charles told you the day you left. Maybe some part of that was true, but you didn’t feel like an X-man anymore. It was your own fault, really.

Months and years rolled on and picking up the phone just got harder and harder. Dropping by to say hello started feeling intrusive. And eventually, it just became easier to do nothing at all.

You stopped trying, but so did they.

No, that’s not true. Jean tried. Storm tried. A letter or two every year. Missed calls that never got returned. You don’t know why you did it… or didn’t do it. Maybe you thought it would hurt less if you just tried to close the book on that chapter of your life. Be a new person. Something without the X-Men. They didn’t need you anyway.

Really, it was probably that same fear from your teen years rearing its ugly head. Still that afraid, angry little girl.

But Charles called, and you answered, and now you’re here. You’re here to help them get back up.

You became a landscaper when you went off to make a name for yourself. Dirt was all you understood, as sad as that sounds. Still, it was work that made you happy. Funny how you left because you didn’t want your mutation to define you.

Charles treated it professionally like any other client would. The man didn’t expect charity and agreed to your usual fee plus an extra 50% to redo the escape tunnels under the mansion.

I can’t pick my home up and move it, but I do my best to keep people guessing about its secrets, was Charles's reasoning.

It was a big job. It would take you 2 weeks at least. Hopefully finishing up just in time for the returning students. You’d already been here 3 days and the emotional exhaustion was getting to you more than anything.

There was no ‘bad blood’ here. You were welcomed back with a chorus of cheers and endless hugs. It was… nice. Really nice. You did miss it here, you missed your old friends. Still, you couldn’t shake this feeling of disassociation stirring in your stomach. Yes, this was your home— your friends— but you’d alienated yourself. They’ve been nothing but kind to you and you still feel like a stranger because you left. You left and stopped trying and you’re refusing to try even now.

Why was this all so scary?

You're reshaping the east garden beds when you feel eyes on you for the dozenth time today. You turn to see him standing there on the 4th-floor balcony, overlooking the decimated gardens.

Logan .

You only met him a few days ago. The newest member of the X-Men. The Wolverine. You’d heard rumors about him before. Tales of the rage, someone more animal than man. You’re amazed Charles took in someone like him, but then again he took you in too.

You’d said less than 3 words to each other since you returned. When Scott introduced you he only gave a curt nod and lurked back into whatever corner he was occupying.

You noticed he liked to stay on the sidelines. Silently occupy space without participating. He was always there when you turned around— like a shadow. He liked watching you work, you think. You could sense him lingering outside of the tunnel entrance you started in the basement the other day. This is the 4th time you’ve caught him lingering today.

You give him a casual flip of the bird. He retreats back inside as soon as your eyes connect with his.

Fucking creep.

“Dozer!” Storm’s voice pulls you from your unplanned staring contest.

She and Jean step down into the rocky pit that was slowly starting to resemble a 3 tiered garden. You’d been working on the tunnels below the house since you got here, this was your first day outside. Even an Earthmover needed sunlight every once in a while. You couldn’t punch out your slew of confusing feelings in a dark hole in the ground forever.

Of course they’d ambush you as soon as you stepped outside.

“We have a surprise for you,” Jean announces proudly.

“What— Why?” is all you manage to say.

Idiot.

“What do you mean why?” Storm doesn’t hesitate to grab your wrist and march you out of your pit. “Come on, it’s up at the garage.”

You let them drag you there, reminding yourself that these are your friends. The ones that kept trying to let you in and you’ve been an elusive bitch to since you got here.

Try. Just try a little. They want you here. They do.

You’re guided, presumably to the garage, by Storm while Jean diligently holds her hands in front of your eyes.

“Please tell me it’s a new car,” You joke trying to lighten the mood. “My truck’s getting old.”

“Pfft, we don’t have that much money,” Jean nudges you slightly before you all come to a halt. She removes her hands.

It’s not a car. It’s flowers.

They’re absolutely beautiful. Hundreds of them in nursery trays laid out in front of the garage doors. Young blossoms but still vibrant with rainbows of color.

Despite your connection with the Earth you never had power over plants, but felt a kinship with them in a way. Both beings that thrived in the dirt was your best guess as to why. You could sense them, feel them in your own way. Your dorm was a practical jungle when you lived here. Hell, your apartment today still was.

A closer glance at the small garden reveals something more.

“It’s all your favorites,” Storm confirms, reaching down between the rows, “The ones we could remember at least. You had so many.”

She pulls out a bouquet, a small collection of the surrounding flowers. They must have made it themselves. Ororo hands it to you, her smile warm but her eyes sad in a way.

“Guys, I…” you choke out, pushing back the stinging tears.

“Your thoughts are very loud,” Jean strokes your shoulder, “The gardens are yours. A reflection of you… for the rest of us. This is your home, you get to leave your mark on it.”

“We’re happy you’re back,” Storm joins Jean in front of you, “We’re happy you're home.”

Wordlessly, you collapse into the two of them. You’d make an ass out of yourself if you tried to talk right now anyway.

Of course Jean knew how you were feeling. Of course Storm probably had the idea for this corny grand gesture. Of course, they missed you. They’re your oldest friends. Your sisters.

You’re home. This is okay. It’s all going to be okay.

__________

The sun has nearly set when you hear the garage door open from a distance, a fight echoing from inside.

“Logan, be reasonable!” You recognize Scott’s aggravated voice.

“You’re a goddamn coward,” the wolverine growls back. Jean informed you this is a regular occurrence between the two of them. You’re not surprised. Logan seemed difficult, to say the least.

You’re halfway up to the garage before you realize what you’re doing. What are you doing? Are you really going to try to break up a flight or just get a better spot for eavesdropping? There’s the roar of a motorcycle engine before you have time to decide.

“ Logan! ” Scott shouts one last time before Logan peels out of the garage— right through the rows of your flowers that rested there.

“HEY!” you shout after him. It’s no use, of course. He doesn’t bother to stop, already past the front gate by the time you reach the driveway.

Scotts stands there alone at the edge of the garage, his hand on his visor… contemplating.

“You’d have one witness if you're thinking about murder,” you make your presence known as you crouch down amongst the now mangled corpses of your garden.

Asshole.

“Shit,” Scott's posture drops, almost embarrassed. His demeanor had changed so much from that young man you knew. The leader of the X-Men, he took himself so seriously now. It was cute in a way only Scott Summers could pull off.

“What an asshole,” you rescue a box of untouched daisies. At least some of it was salvageable.

“You have no idea,” Scott joins you, finding what flowers could be saved, “I’m sorry. He’s… difficult.”

“What were you fighting about?” you dare to ask, more to distract yourself than anything.

Scott hesitates before he answers.

“We were attacked by an offshoot of the Trask Institute. Extremists we didn’t even know existed. They came out of nowhere, and they’re still out there,” You see him scowl, silently scolding himself for not knowing more as a leader. He’d do the same thing in training.

The person who always put the most pressure on Scott was never The Professor. It was just Scott.

“Anyway,” he continues, “We don’t have an exact location, but Logan wants to hunt them down. Take ‘em out at the source, ya know?”

“And you don’t wanna do that?”

“We’ve taken enough hits right now.” He adds a bushel of ivy to your pile, “Best to wait until we have our feet back under us… or if they provoke us again.”

“Wouldn’t be good to be caught with your pants down again, though.” It’s not your place to question him anymore, but you do it anyway.

“We’re monitoring them. They’re not a treat right now,” he lets out a deep sigh, shoulders dropping, “But that’s not good enough for Logan. He doesn’t plan. Just wants to go in guns blazing.”

“Ah, wild-west style.”

“Like I said… he’s difficult .”

“That seems like a nice way of saying an absolute dick .” you attempt to lighten the mood and simultaneously quell the anger stirring in your stomach. He’d ruined your gift, your welcome home present— and he probably didn’t even notice.

“He is a dick. A big one,” Scott scoffs, gaze lingering over the vegetative carnage, “I’m sorry he did this because of me…”

“Acts of random dickishness are not your fault, Summers.”

Scott actually smiles at that one.

“Did you like it at least? The flowers? The girls were so excited about it. We all wanted you to… never mind. You– you get it.”

You look at the mismatched rescues you’ve already gathered in your hands. Thank god you still had the bouquet in your room at least.

“Yeah, Scott. I loved them.”

He gives a reassuring nod. Scott wasn’t much for words. That’s okay, you didn’t expect him to be. Yes, he’s the leader but there’s still so much of that quiet boy you see in him.

“Logan will probably be gone for the night. I’ll talk to him when he gets back. I’ll fix this, Doze.” Scott assures you, that leadership role dropping so easily into place. Charles made the right choice with him.

“That’s okay, Scott. I’ll take care of it myself.”

__________

Scott was right, Logan doesn’t come back until the following afternoon. You’re on the mansion's north side with Charles, showing him your layout plans, when you hear the roar of that stupid bike again.

“Sorry, Charles,” you quickly step away from your old mentor, “I have to handle something.”

“I hope you won’t be ruining my grounds even further while you handle this,” Charles tuts disapprovingly, completely aware of Logan’s transgressions from the previous night. Being psychic, he was no doubt also completely aware of just how angry you were. Jean did say your thoughts are loud after all. Still, he lets you go without another word.

This guy had been nothing but a creep to you since you got here, stacking more anxiety on top of your already overflowing insecurities. Strutting around like he owned the place. Looking at you like a piece of meat. You’d seen too many men like him in your life. He needs to be knocked down a peg.

“Hey!” You have his attention as soon as he kills the engine. He rolls his eyes as he lazily tilts his head in your direction.

“What, sweetheart?” his face is painted over with an arrogance that was just begging to be slapped off.

You’ll happily oblige.

Kicking your heel into the dirt you send a wave through the ground. A small pillar of rock shoots up under the bike. It falls under the sudden jolt, and so does Logan along with it. The shock on his face was already worth it.

“What the hell?!” He sneers as he crawls out from under the bike.

“Why don’t you watch where you're driving next time, asshole,” You dare to take a step forward. He scrambles to his feet, a metallic ring following the movements.

Ah, there they are— the infamous metal claws. Now these you’ve heard stories about.

“That is quite enough,” Charles rolls up behind you, “I will not have this boorish display of dominance on my property.”

To his credit, Logan is the first one to drop his defenses. He sheaths his claws with an irritated shrug.

“Don’t know what the hell I did for any of this crap,” He practically mumbles. You resist the urge to throw a pebble at his head.

“You wrecked my garden!” You can practically feel the ground vibrating in your anger.

Logan looks down at his feet, remnants of the flora he’d unknowingly destroyed still scattered across the dirt.

“Hell of a place for a garden, toots,” he scoffs, kicking at the now withered flowers, “What you want an apology, then?”

You kick another small wave towards him. He catches himself on the shaking ground this time, only giving a scowl your way.

“Enough!” Charles comes between you. “If you insist on behaving like children, then you will be treated like children.”

“He started it!” against your better judgment you mockingly point a finger at Logan. Charles only offers a disappointed shake of the head.

Once a student, always a student.

Charles addresses you first, “You have my permission to use school funds to purchase more garden supplies, and I apologize on behalf of my newest pupil since he seems to be incapable of doing it himself. They were a gift after all,” he turns to Logan, “And you will take her to get them.”

“No.”

“Absolutely not.”

Both you and Logan protest at the same time.

“If you insist on protesting then I’d like to remind you I can always make you do it in different ways,” It’s an empty threat, of course. One of his favorite tactics to use. You remember him making the same kind to you when you were a student. He sighs before making his way back inside the mansion, “I will not have more petty rivalries in this house at a time like this. See it done… Today.”

You’re left alone together, both staring down at your feet like scolded children. Well into your adulthood you’re still finding ways to disappoint Charles Xavier. You’re ashamed you let your anger get the better of you again. You thought you were past this. Better than this.

Logan may have been an ass, but he was an X-man too. A friend of your friends. You didn’t even give him a chance to fix this before you came barreling in fists first. Still, you don’t really regret it either…

Fine.

With a deep sigh, you’re the first to concede.

“I have a truck.”

Logan hesitates for a moment before finally looking you in the eye.

“I’ll drive.”

“Absolutely not.”

__________

The drive to the Westchester Greenhouse was tense and completely silent. Now he’s following three paces behind you like a giant angry shadow. The sweet grandmas perusing the hydrangeas take one look at him looming behind you and change rows. It’s hilarious if you're being honest. You’d cooled down over the drive, you’re not entirely sure he has. Every step he takes is tense, you can feel it through the damp concrete floor.

You wonder if he’s aware of how intimidating he is. He has to be. That or he truly didn’t care. From what little you knew about this man it’s probably a bit of both.

“I don’t get why we’re here,” his gruff voice surprises you, “Can’t you just… grow more?”

“I can’t grow things,” you respond, placing a tray of tiger lilies in your cart, “Just move dirt.”

He hums and looks away in response. This was getting painful. If Charles insisted on sending you both out on this stupid little team-building exercise then you might as well try a little… for Charles.

“I can’t grow plants but I can… feel them.” You continue.

To your surprise, he actually responds. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Maybe ‘ I can kinda talk to pants’ isn’t the best icebreaker topic but it’s a start. You look around rows of greenery, your attention landing on a crudely drawn sign that reads ‘ Man-Eating Plants. ’ Perfect. Most basic nurseries never knew how to take care of carnivorous plants properly.

“Here I’ll show you,” you walk over to the small section of venus fly traps. Your suspicions were correct. Brown-tipped leaves and shriveled black heads could be spotted on nearly every plant. They’d repotted them in all-purpose soil without a second thought.

“Don’t tell me you can talk to them.” Logan comes to stand next to you.

“No, nothing like that. But look,” you point at the crisping leaves of one plant. “They’re over-fertilized. They get their nutrients from bugs, not the soil. They’re roots don’t like what’s in the dirt and I can… feel that. So then I talk to the dirt.”

Logan raises an amused brow. You’re not entirely sure if it’s mocking or genuinely curious.

“So whaddya do ‘bout that?” he probes.

Curious it is. You take a quick glance around, making sure no one is close enough to see. Thankfully the massive scary man at your side and some towering majesty palms are enough cover for you.

“We take out what they don’t like in the soil. And what’s soil and fertilizer but some specific minerals.”

You’d first gotten the idea when you’d heard Magneto could rip iron directly out of people's blood. If his powers could be so precise, why not yours? It took years to master. You practiced by dumping table salt on the yard and trying to only summon the granules to your hands.

Same concept here.

You hold your hand over the small carnivorous beasts, feeling the small pellets of fertilizer mixed into their soil. You can feel the specific minerals and separate them out. Steadily, tiny pellets hovered out of each pot in neat rows and gathered above your hand. Once gathered you clench your open palm into a fist, the pellets gathering into one solid rock the size of a golf ball.

“There,” the mineral-dense rock drops into your hand, “Come back in a month and I guarantee these guys will be doing better.”

“Oh, I’m never coming back here,” despite the bitterness of his words, Logan says them with a smile. He’s teasing you.

“Well then,” you turn to him and place the rock in his jacket’s breast pocket, “There, a little souvenir to remember your forced trip to the greenhouse for being a jerk.”

You’re walking back to the cart before he has a chance to respond. The air feels lighter between the two of you now. You don’t like that you had to be the bigger person when he’s clearly been the one in the wrong but… it’s something, you guess.

Your little demonstration reminds you that you need better-treated soil if you’re going to make these gardens work. The ground around the mansion was fine but they needed something ritcher to give the plants a good head start. You could mix the soil yourself from around the area but it was infinitely easier to get already prepared bags of it here. Just a few for the topsoil should be fine. Charles said this was all on him, after all.

You stop in front of the stacked bags of various soil mixes. You reach for the general outdoor plant mix. Logan’s hand beats yours to the fuschia pink labeled bag, pulling it off the stack and tossing it over his shoulder.

“How many?” he asks, emotionless.

“Uh… let’s start with five?”

He grabs two more and effortlessly stacks them on his shoulder. He holds the other two in his free hand. He stands there holding over a hundred pounds of dirt like it’s nothing.

“Okay, what next?”

The sun is starting to set when you make your way back to the manor. The air between the two of you is decidedly less tense but it’s still painfully silent. There was… progress made. You didn’t hate him anymore and hopefully he would treat your property with more care from now on. He tried, in the only way stoic men like him can. Not with words, but with small actions. Carrying bags of dirt for hours, shooing you away from loading the truck and doing it all himself, opening the car door for you. For some reason actually saying ‘sorry’ was always so much harder than just showing you he was sorry.

You got it. Your father and brothers were the same. You wonder if he was a military man too.

That doesn’t change the fact that you hadn’t apologized either. Yes, he’d wrong you first, but you provoked him without warning. Actions instead of just talking like an adult. Yeah, actions were always easy for people like you.

And in your own fucked up little way, you’d made him the subject of your anxieties. He was new here, you’d made yourself an outcast. They all clearly adored him despite his rugged nature. Charles so clearly wanted to help this man who was too skittish to be helped. It reminded you of someone else…

You could extend the metaphorical olive branch. Offer something that resembled friendship. That’s why Charles sent you out here, but you’re going to do it your own way.

Somewhere that holds a lot of memories is coming up on the right, and you could use a drink. The sudden turn off the road jolts Logan from his empty gazing out the window.

“Jesus Christ, woman!” He reaches for the center console, shooting you a glare. You hold back a smile, “This isn’t the way back to the school.”

“We’re not going back to the school,” You pull into an all too familiar parking lot, a red neon sign already lit up reading ‘Stevie’s Bar ‘n’ Grill’ illuminates the windshield. You’d snuck over here at least a dozen times when you were in school.

“Let me buy you a drink.”

“What?” He smirks with a raise of the eyebrow. He does that a lot, you've noticed.

“Look, I—” You take a breath and shift the car into park. You can do this, it’s just words, “I wasn’t fair. You did a shitty thing, yeah, but you didn’t know. And I came at you with no explanation.”

“I’m used to it.” He shrugs jokingly, trying to lighten the mood you’ve suddenly soured. It works. You smile.

“It’s… weird. Being back,” you’re grip on the wheel tightens ever so slightly in an attempt to ground yourself, “I don’t expect you to understand this, but it’s weird coming back to a place you called home and feeling like a stranger. Despite everything your friends are saying, you just feel wrong there. I tried to take my insecurities out on you Logan. I’m sorry.”

The bloated silence that settles between the two of you doesn’t help, but you can’t blame him. What was he supposed to say after you just bared part of your soul? You’re not expecting an apology but it hurts a little when he hops out of the truck. You’re about to yell after him when he rounds the front and comes to your door. He opens it and leans in closer than you’d like.

“How about I buy you a drink then?” There’s that stupid smirk of his again, “You said it yourself, I did a shitty thing. You drug me out here to clean up my mess, wrecked your little welcome home present Jean wouldn’t shut up about. I owe you a drink, toots.”

He leans in a little closer. You can smell the cigar smoke on him, probably embedded into his clothes at this point. It’s not an apology. Not really.

It’s an olive branch.

__________

It’s exactly the same. Old country on the jukebox, dirty floors, old tattooed lady bartenders that wouldn’t hesitate to knock someone out if they tried something. Funny how little hole-in-the-wall places like this never change. You’re grateful for it.

You and Logan huddled into the farthest booth in the corner away from the commotion. His beer’s already half gone by the time you’re on your second sip. Somehow you’re not surprised.

“How the hell did Charles get stuck with you?” You laugh as he wipes away the suds from his stubble.

“Funny, I could ask you the same.”

You playfully kick him under the table and he thankfully laughs it off. He had a nice smile… you suppose.

“He drug me in kicking and screaming,” You take another sip, glancing at the kitchen door in hopes the fries you ordered were coming. Logan leans forward, waiting for you to continue. “I… ran away from my birth family. Was on the streets for probably six months before he found me. I was thirteen.”

“That’s the most boring way to tell a probably good story I’ve ever heard,” He says before taking another gulp.

“Oh, please tell me your life story then, Mr. Wolverine.” You cross your arms.

“Oh, we’d be here a while, Darlin’.”

Well… if he was asking about you.

“I was born in Guam… I think. We moved almost every year. Mom died before I even had memories. Was brought up by a Colonel in the army and two brothers.”

“Military brat. Should have guessed.” You kick him under the table again, “Explains the temper too I guess.”

“Well, a military upbringing with a bunch of boys’ll do that.”

When was the last time you told someone about your life? And why was it so easy to tell him? He holds your gaze for a moment and you feel your cheeks heat.

“Why’d you run away then?” He asks.

“Oh, you’re gonna need a lot more alcohol in me for that, fella.” you skillfully evade the question. Maybe it wasn’t so easy to tell him everything .

“That can be arranged,” waves at the waitress, signaling for another round. You look at his practically empty mug and you're still practically full one— and still no fries. God help you.

“Your turn,” you prompt him, “Tell me something about you.”

His posture tenses.

“Not much to tell, sweetheart.”

“Where were you born?”

“Don’t remember.”

“Okay, where’d you grow up?”

“Same answer.”

“Did you—”

“Look,” he cuts you off, the wrinkles in his forehead deepening, “Like I said, it’s a long story… but I’m missing a lot of details. It’s not worth listening to, I promise.”

You suddenly feel bad for snooping so much. He had a boundary, and that was fine. Just because you were so keen on sharing doesn’t mean he has to be.

The waitress delivers your next round along with a greasy basket of fries. Logan is the first to reach for one.

“You said Chuck drug you in kicking and screaming?” His eyes soften again, “I guess he did with me too.”

He’s trying to be friendly. Trying to be a little gentler.

“Oh?” you gently prod him to continue.

“I’m not…” he runs his hand through his pointed hair, “I wasn’t a good man… the parts I can remember. And Chuck gave me a chance. I don’t like it all the time… bein’ somewhere I don’t belong. I run. It’s what I do. But they keep havin’ me back. So… I get it.”

You suspect he hasn’t told anyone this, but he’s saying it to you. He chose you to trust for some reason. Your heart clenches.

You thumb at the handle of your still mostly full beer next to another waiting one, unsure of how to continue. You both started with the heavy shit, so there was only one way to go now. You came here to clear the air… but you also came here to drink. You take the mug and raise it to Logan.

“To the class fuck ups then.”

__________

In retrospect, it probably wasn’t the best idea to buy you six drinks on a practically empty stomach. To be fair, you didn’t admit that you’d skipped lunch until drink four and by then the fries were gone and the kitchen was closed. Half a basket of fries wasn't a good substitute dinner, it turns out. Not so much a lightweight as just an idiot, but everyone’s a lightweight compared to Logan. Perk of a healing factor is he can sober up pretty damn quick when he needs to. Practically had to wrestle the keys out of your hands while you were stumbling your way back to the truck.

Cute how you thought you could put up a fight. He carried you the rest of the way to the truck, you giggling the whole way. Funny how he didn’t really mind either.

So used to drinking alone, he’d forgotten what it was like to do it with someone else. All the comradery that came with it and a few sloppy games of pool too. Kurt wasn’t much for booze, unfortunately. Hank, Jean, and Storm were always too damn busy to relax, and Scott… like hell he’d have a drink with Scott.

But this was all your idea. You brought him to a shitty bar, shared a little bit yourself with him and now he was driving you home while you poorly slurred along with whatever was playing on the radio.

And he didn’t mind one bit.

He didn’t know what to make of you when you first came. They all talked about you with such admiration whenever your name came up… which was all the damn time. You were quiet, skittish almost. Kept your nose down and got to work immediately.

He recognized what you were doing right away.

Logan understood what it was like to be part of something and feel like a stranger. Hell, that’s all he’d ever been. Just someone passing through until the X-Men. He’s still learning how to do it. Be part of something. He meant it when he said he wasn’t a good man, but he’s a better man than he was. He wouldn’t have that without Charles.

And here you come, someone who had it all and left it behind just to try to be normal out in the world. The one thing people like you could never be. Yeah, he really got it.

You admitted you were an angry kid in your drunken ramblings. He has a hard time picturing you that way— a little rebel. You shied away from talking more about personal things. Your family and whatever the hell else that past life entailed. He didn’t pry, didn’t want to make you more uncomfortable than he already had. Instead, the conversation drifted into one of those that’s about everything and nothing at all. Just sharing drinks with a friend kind of conversation.

He liked it… having someone to talk to.

You’re finishing up belting Bohemian Raposesty when he finally pulls into the driveway of the mansion.

“Shows over, rockstar,” he announces as he kills the engine.

“Boooo!” You weakly protest as soon as the radio dies, “Killjoy!”

“That’s me,” he grumbles, getting out and walking over to your door. You slump out of the seat as soon as he opens it, “Come on, princess.”

You’re slumped over, curled up into the flannel he offered as a blanket. He pulls you into his arms, deciding it’d be easier to just carry you straight to bed rather than herd you up the steps. God he hopes everyone’s gone to bed by now, otherwise he’s probably going to get an earful for getting their precious darling drunk.

“You’re like the firemen… in those calendars…” you slur as he pushes through the front door, “Or a lumberjack. With those chops, you have to be a lumberjack.”

He holds back a laugh at your girlish ramblings. To his relief, no one is in the foyer. He quickly hikes up the stairs, squirming drunk girl in hand. You were already dozing off by the time he reached the top of the stairs.

Thank god.

“Whoa, deja vu,” you rub your hands down your face, “I feel like 'm 16 again. We did this all the time back ‘n the day.”

“Yeah? Who carried you to bed then?” your door is in sight.

“The Professor.” you jokingly wheeze out without hesitation. “Guy loves his brandy.”

“Mmm, I’m sure,” Logan scoots past your door, careful of your head. He lays you down on the bed gently, you don’t protest. He carefully unlaces your shoes while you squirm into the covers.

“Y’know, yer nicer than I thought you’d be.” You can’t even keep your eyes open now.

“That right?” Logan smiles to himself as he pulls one sneaker off.

“Mmhmm,” you nod, nuzzling your head into the pillow, “Funny, I thought the Wolverine would be so scary.”

He cringes a little at your words. He won’t hold them against you, not in this state.

“I’m very scary.”

You blow a raspberry before continuing, “No yer not! You're just a guy. A hunky, lumberjack guy who hates flowers.”

“I don’t hate flowers.”

“Right… just my flowers.”

“Yeah, just your flowers,” he pulls off the other shoe. Your feet immediately shoot up into the covers. He smooths a comforting hand over your hip. It makes him happier than it should when you don’t flinch away.

“You need anything else, darlin’?”

“Stop doin’ that,” You groan into the pillow.

“Stop what?”

“Makin’ me blush with your dumb pet names.” You admit, “Stop it.”

He smiles to himself, a familiar warm feeling rising in his stomach. He’ll leave you be for tonight. Best to wait until you're sober to ask what you mean by that anyway, if only to watch you blush a little more.

“I’ll leave you be then,” he almost feels regret when he stands off of the bed. Almost. You were drunk. Tired. There was nothing more to be said tonight.

He drags your empty trash can over to the side of the bed, just in case, and fills a glass of water for you too.

“I had fun tonight,” He says before walking towards the door. Your voice makes him pause.

“Logan?” you call out like a scolded child.

“Yeah?”

“You don’t actually hate my flowers, do you?”

“No, darlin’. I don’t hate your flowers.”

He makes sure to turn off the light and close the door behind him.

__________

#logan howlett #logan howlet x reader #wolverine x reader #logan james howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine fanfiction #x men #fanfic #wolverine smut

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onlinewordworld · 1 year ago

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Strengthen Your Trees with Professional Tree Bracing Services by Dynamic Arborist!

Dynamic Arborist is a leading provider of tree bracing services in the Australia. We offer a wide range of tree bracing services, including tree cabling, tree splinting, and tree anchoring. Safeguard the health and beauty of your precious trees with our expert tree removal services. Dynamic Arborist offers reliable support systems to reinforce weak branches and prevent potential hazards. Trust our skilled team to preserve the natural charm of your landscape and ensure the longevity of your trees.

#tree bracing and cabling #tree storm damage repair #tree removal ferntree gully #tree removal croydon #tree removal glen waverley

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creations-by-chaosfay · 11 months ago

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Emergency Roof Repair and Storm Cleanup Commissions

As mentioned in previous posts and pinned @anotherdayforchaosfay , we have just been through a natural disaster. Please read the pinned post on that blog. Updates will be added once we get outside and photograph the damage for our insurance claim.

I have opened commissions three months earlier than planned because we need to raise money to cover our insurance deductible as well as hiring someone to remove the tree from our roof and yard. The tree is owned by a lazy landlordlord who owns the property next door. We have told him repeatedly it needs to be trimmed or there will be damage. His property got a quick install sunroof.

I have four slots available across the board and prices start at $150 USD.

I have made the option of commissioning me for a quilt available. Three finished quilt tops are listed as commissions because they're ready for handquilting. Several people have inquired about one of the tops, so now's your chance to have it done sooner than later.

If you can do only a partial payment right now, DM me. I'll write up a contract for payments, and will require 50% upfront and weekly/monthly installs after that. You will then receive an invoice.

Commissions will begin immediately because we now have power.

I will close commissions when all slots are filled or June 1st, 2024. Whichever happens first (hopefully the former). If slots are filled, I will reopen them again after I finish all the commissions. I work fast and may complete six quilts netween now and then.

Donations are accepted,and there are four listings available in my shop with the option to pay more than my asking price (if you add an extra zero, I may very well cry).

Samples of my work below as well as in my gallery.

#quilt #sewing #commissions open #handmade #emergency funds #we may need to replace the roof but need $1000 to cover the deductible.#i was hoping for this not to happen so i could focus on using my sales and commissions to oay off debts. last year it was used to #pay my husband's medical bills. now we to focus on dealing with the roof and possibly putting things in storage because of the #roof repairs or new roof. and yeah we may hand the bill to that landlord to cover because he refused to trim the trees. the hawthorn #is MASSIVE and more than half hangs over our side of the property line. if he had trimmed it this would not have happened.#it feels nice knowing he may have to replace the vacant house or sell off the property. the half dozen othe overgrown and dead #trees have also made gravity deposits on the vacant house snd the yard on the other side of the property.#PLEASE REBLOG!!!!!!!#liking this means NO ONE BUT YOU WILL SEE IT. for posts to be seen or shared you have to REBLOG THEM.#please share this on your other social media!!!! i have only tumblr.

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808airsoftbros · 4 months ago

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Missing 411 (Female Idols)

Author: This special chapter is also posted on my wattpad and decided to post it here too to help revive this dead Tumblr account. Also if you want to see more check out the Masterlist.

Y/N's POV

It's been ten years since that stormy night... Where everything went to hell... Awakened something that was never supposed to be in this world. What is it? We will never truly know and perhaps it's for the best.

Now you all must be asking what I'm talking about. I don't know much since I'm a foreign government agency from America to help with the Korean National Police Agency.

All these accounts and stories are based on reports filed by the KNPA, witnesses, and survivors of their encounters with this... thing.

I cannot disclose everything as this case is classified and under investigation by the Republic of Korea National Military and the National Intelligence Service.

It all began ten years ago on August 19, 2019, when a massive typhoon struck the Korean peninsula turning Seoul into a rubble mess than ever in history.

Everything was in total devastation, small businesses, and homes were destroyed, and families pretty much lost everything so much so that even K-pop idols began lending a hand, and those who were on tour or elsewhere donated money.

I will start with the first case... The unsolved case of the disappearance of Jennie Kim and Jeon Jungkook...

Flashback

Date: August 21, 2019 Location: Seoul, South Korea

Jisoo's POV

It's been two days since the massive typhoon struck the city of Seoul, I was in the safety of the dorm when it struck and thankfully nothing was damaged or lost but the same cannot be said for the unlucky ones.

Some were caught in a bad time and the street vendor's property has been damaged beyond repair including those I always visit.

"I can't believe mother nature is capable of such devastation..." I muttered looking at the rubble of fallen trees, flipped cars, and broken street lamps.

"Well, that's nature for you, come on, those people need all the help they can get," Chaeyoung replied and I nodded.

Walking around the streets, determined to help those in need as much as possible, other idols have joined us in our efforts helping where they can, and offering assistance to the rescue operatives.

The streets were flooded in some areas, especially the underground parking lots, the sewer systems were overflowed and clogged causing the sewages to flood the streets.

Everyone worked hard to guide the survivors to shelter camps to tend to the wounded and sick. My arms and legs ached like hell but if it's for the people, I must keep going.

"Jake said this is all we can do for now until firefighters and Coast Guard crews clear up the debris in the heavily impacted parts, I'd say we take a break," I explained to the girls and they nodded.

As we sat down under the shelter camp, we saw BTS covered in mud and sweat approaching, they all looked equally exhausted and worn out.

"Ah, I see you boys managed to make it, I thought you all were on a tour," I greeted and Namjoon chuckled.

"Hey, this city is our home, we can't just simply watch by as the people suffer. We lend our hand wherever we can," Namjoon replied.

"Right, there are so many children lost from their parents, I heard some of them didn't make it out," Jennie mentioned and he sighed.

"Real shame, I pity those poor souls, nobody could've expected a typhoon like this, throughout my years, I have never seen anything like this," Jungkook commented.

As the boys joined us under the tent, Taehyung was kind enough to give us water to quench our thirst, and I couldn't feel more relief as I sipped down the water.

Suddenly, Jungkok and Jennie stood up but before they could walk away from the tent I stopped them.

"Hey, where are you two going?" I asked curiously.

"I overheard there are some cabins in the woods, possible someone could've been sheltering there during the storm and will see if we can help or not," Jungkook answered and I nodded.

"Alright, be safe out there," I warned them and they nodded.

"Don't worry Jichu, we're always careful~," Jennie assured and walked away with him.

Though I had a bad feeling about it, I shrugged it off as I didn't have much time to think about it as the fire chief called us over requesting our assistance with the water pumps.

In the next several hours as the sun was starting to set and dusk was approaching, however, Jennie and Jungkook had yet to return.

"Hey, you heard from Kookie any chance?" I asked Jin and he shrugged.

"No idea, no call on the radio or anything, I was about to ask you," Jin answered unsurely and I was growing concerned.

Deciding to investigate the cabins as a group, we went to their last known location which is the cabins in the woods, we kept our guard up for any wild animals that may loom in the area, and as we reached the cabins, I felt dread as the cabins were dead quiet.

Looking around, there was no sign of any wild animals or birds in the trees anywhere and the area wasn't as damaged as the rest of the forest.

"I don't like the looks of this..." Suga commented.

"Yeah, it's too quiet for my liking, I feel like something is gonna pounce on us at any second," Hoseok replied.

"Let's make this fast and find those two before it gets dark," Namjoon said and we agreed.

Immediately, we began searching the cabins and the surrounding nature but as time went on, we couldn't find a single trace of them anywhere or signs of life.

I was now growing even more worried as they somehow disappeared like they never existed... Until...

"Hey, I think I found something!" Lisa called out and we went up to her.

"What is it?" I asked.

Lisa showed us Jennie's phone and wallet along with Jungkook's wallet containing his bank cards and IDs inside one of the bedrooms in the cabin.

"Is there anything else?" I asked and she shook her head.

"Nope, not any sign of footprints or traces, it's like they vanished like a ghost," She sighed and looked at the time it was getting dark.

"Will report this to the police when we get back, for now, there's nothing more we can do for them until morning, it's too dangerous to search at night," Namjoon explained and I felt devastated.

"W-We can't just abandon them, they're like family to us," I begged and he shook his head.

"I understand how you feel, Jisoo, and I feel the same way for Kookie but will be no good to anyone if we're attacked by predators," He replied in a sympathetic tone.

Reluctantly agreeing, I felt shameful and guilty as I felt like I had to abandon Jennie as she could be seriously injured or God knows what I knew Namjoon was right but it was my fault for letting them go in the first place.

"I should've stopped them..." I muttered to myself as we left the cabins.

Present

Y/N's POV

Since then, the group went to the nearby police station which was still intact, and reported a missing person case, a search was later held the next morning but despite their best efforts, no traces were ever found besides their wallets and Jennie's phone.

We couldn't turn it on as the screen was cracked and it was damaged but we did manage to extract the data but found nothing out of the ordinary.

The search went on for some time until...

Date: August 30, 2019 Location: Seoul, South Korea

Y/N's POV

Arriving in Korea at the airport, I was greeted by one of the agents of the NIS and he drove me over to the police station in Seoul.

"So, I was told I would be briefed on this investigation, what do we have?" I asked.

"Well, two idols vanished without a trace just a week ago when they were helping clean up the city after the typhoon hit, they went up to the cabin area in the forest but never returned and the group decided to investigate themselves to find nothing but few of their belongings," The agent explained and I nodded writing them down in my notepad.

"I see, what about the search party? Any news?" I asked and he nodded.

"After several days of searching, we did find their remains... It's quite a grizzly and disturbing sight, to say the least, and it's hard to describe it so it's better if you look at them yourself," He answered.

The rest of the drive was silent as we went into Seoul giving me the chance to look around at the devastation the typhoon had caused and it was surreal than the pictures on the news.

Once we finally made it to the station, I walked through the backdoor leading downstairs to the evidence lab, and I was led into the forensics lab.

One of the experts bowed before leading me into the lab, laying on the operation table were the bodies of Jeon Jungkook and Jennie Kim and my eyes widened as it looked like their souls were sucked out of them.

They were skinny to the bone, there was no blood within them, and they looked almost skeletal making this the most disturbing case I've ever worked in.

"What the hell happened to them...?" I asked shocked at the sight.

"We're not sure, we ran all the tests in the book but found nothing out of the ordinary or pointers of how they died, no wounds, scratches, nothing, just their souls sucked out dry," The expert explained grimly.

Meanwhile...

Jisoo's POV

I couldn't sleep well ever since Jennie's disappearance, we always missed her and it didn't help that the police already found her dead body not far from the cabins along with Jungkook.

YG and BigHit sent condolences letters to their families and the funerals were held as soon as the rubbles were cleared from parts of the city.

Their remains were cremated to ashes with Jennie to be sent home to New Zealand in her hometown and Jungkook to the family cemetery.

"O comforting One, compassionate One be with us all when we suffer loss and ache with the pain of grieving. Give us a glimpse of the way it will be when love will never be taken away, when life itself will not be diminished when all that we hold most precious will live and remain with us forever. Amen." The priest said his prayer as the urn of the ashes of Jungkook was slowly lowered into the hole dug before his gravestone.

The funeral was small only consisting of myself, Lisa, and Chaeyoung, along with BTS and Twice who had just returned from their tour, and of course Jungkook's family.

To this day, I still feel guilty as I could've stopped this all from happening, now two idols were lost to the Heavens, and everyone grieved their deaths.

Jin who would always boast about being flirty and ladies man was now all silent, I can tell the loss of what he considered a brother deeply affected him.

"T-Thank you for coming, Jihyo, I didn't think you'd show up," I thanked her and she nodded.

"Hey, this is more important than our idol lives, I knew them both and they were quite exceptional and talented individuals, it's a shame they went out like this," Jihyo replied and I sighed.

"Are you okay?" She asked conerningly.

"No, not really, I could've prevented this from happening, Jennie and Jungkook would still be alive if I hadn't stopped them from going to the woods alone... I'm such an idiot..." I grimly answered and shed a tear as the guilt became too much to bear.

Instead of an angry reaction, as I expected, Jihyo gave me a sympathetic look and placed a comforting hand on my shoulder.

"It's not your fault, my dear, none of us expected anything like this would happen," She assured and I sighed.

"Speaking of which, they never disclosed their cause of death nobody knows what happened to them, they found no wounds or indication of how they died considering they were young and healthy at the time," I mentioned.

"Well, all we can do is leave it to the authorities to handle this, I am confident they will find a trail eventually and we can soon get to the bottom of this and hope Jennie and Jungkook will be the last victims of this mess," She explained and I nodded knowing she was right.

After the funeral was finished, we all left for our vehicles, our driver picked us up and drove us back to the YG building as we needed to discuss some things about our upcoming comeback.

We headed to the top floor of the building where YG's office was located and knocked on the door.

"Come in!" He called out and we opened the door.

"Please have a seat you three, we have urgent matters to discuss," He instructed and we sat down in front of him and he sighed.

"As you all may know, Jennie was found dead, now not only has this heavily saddened the Blinks and fans around the world, but it also hurts our business as our comeback is scheduled to release soon, and without Jennie to finish her lines, we might have to cancel it and start from scratch without her or one of you will have to take her place," He explained.

"Sir, are you going to find a trainee to debut and replace her...?" Chaeyoung asked and he shook his head.

"Not anytime soon, none of the trainees so far have the skills or talent or experience like hers to substitute her absence and this will surely tank the reviews and our income, that is why I'm asking you all what you wish to do at this time," YG explained and we pondered.

As we all discuss among ourselves how we're going to finish this comeback or if will just cancel it entirely, I cannot help but feel like I'm being watched, and when I glanced out the window my eyes widened as I saw... Jennie standing on a platform...

She was unrecognizable, her body was skinny to the bone, her eyes were white and her skin was pale like she was a ghost, and was staring directly at me.

"Jichu...? Are you okay?" Lisa asked waving her hand across my face snapping me out of my trance.

"H-Huh?" I stammered as I regained my senses and when I looked out the window all I saw was the cleaner wiping down the windows.

"Is there a problem, Miss Jisoo?" YG asked.

"N-No, sir, I'm fine... Just tired is all..." I nervously replied and he nodded.

"Alright, how about this? I'll leave you all to rest for the day, and by tomorrow you all can come into my office with your final decision, is that okay with you all?" YG asked and we nodded.

As we are dismissed from leaving the YG entertainment building, we head over to the dormitory to gather our thoughts and hopefully my sanity as I feel nothing but dread.

There is much pressure added to us now that Jennie is gone and Rose and Lisa were thinking about splitting the extra work evenly but that will be difficult as fans will feel disappointed about the comeback without her.

That night, my sleep was anything but peaceful, I woke up in a grassy land, and there in front of me was Jennie wearing a white dress and Jungkook wearing a black tuxedo. They were both warmly smiling as if nothing ever happened.

"K-Kookie? Jen? What are you two doing here?" I nervously asked.

"Hello, Jichu... We are waiting for you..." Jungkook spoke but his voice sounded off.

"We are waiting for you Jichu, join us... And you will be free of guilt..." Jennie spoke up.

Without warning, I woke up panting out of breath, I was covered in sweat trying to figure out what I just dreamt of but I didn't get a chance when I heard strange crackling noises like bones cracking.

I looked around, my stomach dropped seeing what appeared to be Jennie in that same white dress walking disfigured to the front entrance.

"J-Jennie... Is that you?" I softly called out as I got out of bed.

Quickly I got dressed in casual attire grabbed a black mask so nobody knows my identity and followed Jennie out of the dorm quietly without waking up Lisa and Chaeyoung.

I followed Jennie around the city which was strangely quiet and desolated as people are superstitious about walking at night, but I can't help wondering why Jennie was walking so awkwardly like some of her bones are broken or worn.

Eventually, she led me to what appeared to be an abandoned mine long forgotten to time.

"Why the hell is she going to a mine...?" I asked myself as I watched her from the distance in the bushes.

All of a sudden, the entrance of the mineshaft was glowing crimson red yet Jennie continued walking but she stopped right at the entrance and came out of what seemed to be what I describe as the gate to hell.

Coming out of the entrance was Jungkook in that same black tuxedo from my dream but his eyes were anything but normal as it was all white, he reached out his hand and Jennie took it before walking together through the mineshaft entrance.

"Dear Lord you are our shepherd and defender please protect me from all evil..." I prayed as I decided it was time to leave.

I continued repeating the prayer all the way back to the city and I saw some planks on the ground and decided to seal off the entrance to the best of my ability.

After the work was done, I ran the hell out of the forest as fast as I could until I reached the safety of the city and the dorm.

What I witness is just something I cannot explain nor could anyone and I do not want to go near that God forsaken mine ever again.

Present

Y/N's POV

And that is the end of the story of what the people and the authorities know... However, what Jisoo said in the interview isn't exactly clear and straight-up bullocks to most.

The military dispatched a company of soldiers to investigate the mine and sealed off the area with electric fences and barbed wire to keep everyone out... Or something in.

I don't know what the military is doing at those mineshafts to this day as the reports are all classified and they want nobody going in there.

Jennie and Jungkook were declared dead after their bodies were found but idols do report seeing them at night or in their dreams similar to Jisoo.

Sadly... Those two would not be the only missing victims...

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nirbobharvey · 2 months ago

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Hurricane Milton Resources, Emergency Contacts, and Recovery Assistance

Hurricane Milton is making landfall in Florida, and residents across the state must prepare for the potential devastation it could bring. With forecasts predicting high winds, torrential rain, and widespread flooding, Hurricane Milton could leave communities struggling to rebuild.

New Image Roofing Atlanta gathered information about Hurricane Milton, the damage and devastation it will likely leave in its path, valuable emergency resources, and what New Image Roofing has invested to assist the urgent upcoming recovery efforts.

New Image Roofing Florida 352-316-6008 is ready to assist residents and businesses with roofing and recovery needs. Below is a breakdown of the potential risks, necessary resources, and emergency contacts to help Floridians navigate this challenging time.

Potential Devastation from Hurricane Milton

Hurricane Milton’s impact on Florida could be catastrophic. Forecasts show a Category 4 storm, and officials urge everyone to prepare for the worst. The potential damage from this hurricane could include:

Winds up to 150 mph – These extreme wind speeds can tear roofs off homes and businesses, uproot trees, and snap power lines. Flying debris could cause significant property damage and put lives at risk.

Torrential rainfall and flooding – Milton is expected to dump up to 20 inches of rain in certain areas, leading to flash flooding in low-lying regions. Coastal areas face the added threat of storm surge, which could inundate homes and infrastructure.

Watch this video to grasp the dangers of storm surge (a storm surge of 15 feet is expected with Hurricane Milton).

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Power outages – Downed power lines will likely cause widespread outages. These outages may last days or weeks, leaving communities without access to essential services.

Tornadoes – Hurricane Milton’s powerful system could spawn tornadoes, particularly in the eastern parts of the state, causing additional destruction.

Watch this video to see Hurricane Milton’s approach to Florida’s west coast.

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New Image Roofing Florida’s Response

New Image Roofing Florida has a strong history of helping communities recover after hurricanes. The company is prepared to assist with Hurricane Milton’s aftermath. As part of their commitment to helping Florida rebuild, New Image Roofing teams will be deployed to the most affected regions as soon as it is safe to begin repairs.

Rapid Deployment – New Image Roofing Florida teams are on standby, ready to travel to hurricane-affected areas to begin emergency repairs. Their teams specialize in patching damaged roofs, installing temporary tarps, and providing long-term roofing solutions.

NEW IMAGE ROOFING FLORIDA 352-316-6008

Residential and Commercial Assistance – New Image Roofing Florida is equipped to handle residential and commercial properties. Their priorities are to rapidly secure buildings, prevent further water damage, and help businesses reopen quickly.

Free Inspections and Estimates – The company offers free roof inspections and damage estimates for all affected Floridians.

Experienced Hurricane Recovery Teams – With years of experience handling the aftermath of powerful storms, New Image Roofing Florida will work efficiently to secure homes, schools, businesses, and critical infrastructure.

Federal and State Resources

In the wake of Hurricane Milton, Floridians will rely on various state and federal agencies to provide essential services. Below is a list of important contacts and resources for emergency assistance, shelters, and recovery support:

Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA)

Website: fema.gov Phone: 1-800-621-FEMA (3362)

Services: FEMA provides disaster relief assistance, including temporary housing, emergency financial aid, and infrastructure repair.

American Red Cross

Website: redcross.org Phone: 1-800-RED-CROSS (733-2767)

Services: The Red Cross offers shelter, food, and medical support during and after disasters.

Florida Division of Emergency Management (FDEM)

Website: floridadisaster.org Phone: 850-815-4000 State Assistance Emergency Line: 1-800-342-3557 Florida Relay Service: Dial 711 (TDD/TTY)

Services: FDEM coordinates state-wide emergency response, disaster recovery, and evacuation orders.

New Image Roofing Florida

Website: newimageroofingfl.com Phone: 352-316-6008

Services: New Image Roofing Florida provides full-service emergency roof inspections, patching up damaged roofs, installing temporary tarps, and providing long-term roofing solutions. The company will also coordinate/attend adjusters meetings with your insurance agency.

Florida Power & Light (FPL)

Website: fpl.com Phone: 1-800-468-8243

Services: FPL provides power outage reporting and updates on restoration timelines.

National Flood Insurance Program (NFIP)

Website: floodsmart.gov Phone: 1-888-379-9531

Services: NFIP provides information about flood insurance policies and assistance with claims after flood damage.

Florida Department of Transportation (FDOT)

Website: fdot.gov Phone: 1-850-414-4100

Services: FDOT manages road closures and traffic conditions. They provide real-time updates about safe evacuation routes and road repairs after a storm.

Local Florida County Emergency Services

Each Florida county has emergency management teams coordinating shelters, first responders, and relief efforts. Check your county’s website for specific contact numbers and resources. At-risk counties include:

Charlotte Citrus De Soto Flagler Glades Hardee Hernando Hillsborough Manatee Pasco Pinellas Sarasota Sumter

Visit WUSF (West Central Florida’s NPR station) website for valuable local information, emergency shelter, and guidance.

Website: wusf.org

Hurricane Season Risks and Preparedness

Florida’s hurricane season runs from June 1 to November 30. Hurricane Milton is hitting just as the state braces for more potential storms. The danger doesn’t end when the hurricane passes. After a storm like Milton, communities are left vulnerable to future weather events. The risk of another hurricane striking Florida before Milton’s recovery remains high.

Weakening Infrastructure – After Milton, homes and businesses will be more susceptible to damage from weaker tropical storms or hurricanes. Unrepaired roofs and weakened structures could collapse or fail under minimal pressure.

Flooding Risks – Milton’s heavy rainfall and storm surge will saturate the ground and fill waterways. This will leave communities vulnerable to even small rain events, with the potential for additional flooding.

Power Restoration Delays – With Milton causing widespread outages, the power grid may remain unstable for weeks, making it difficult for residents to recover fully before the next storm hits.

Preparing for Future Storms – Residents must begin making plans now for the rest of hurricane season. Stock up on supplies, make sure your property is secure, and stay informed about future weather developments.

Additional Tips for Hurricane Preparedness

To ensure the safety of yourself and your loved ones, follow these guidelines when preparing for a Hurricane:

Evacuate if Ordered – Listen to local officials and immediately evacuate if you are in an evacuation zone. Delaying could put your life at risk.

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Secure Your Property – Install hurricane shutters, trim trees, and secure outdoor items. Consider having your roof inspected by New Image Roofing before the storm hits.

Prepare a Disaster Kit – Include essentials like water, food, medications, flashlights, batteries, and important documents.

Stay Informed – Official sources like FEMA, FDEM, and the National Weather Service offer updates and information.

Read more about hurricane preparedness at newimageroofingatlanta.com/hurricane-preparedness-a-comprehensive-guide

Hurricane Milton Resources and Recovery

In this article, you discovered information about hurricane preparedness, potential severe damage to roofs and homes, post-hurricane emergency services and resources, and how to repair your home and roof after the storm.

Your awareness and preparedness for Hurricane Milton (and coming storms) will minimize damages and help you return to normal in the storm’s aftermath.

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#emergency roof repair #residential roofing #residential roofer atlanta #Hurricane Milton #Hurricane Emergency Resources #Hurricane Milton Emergency #Hurricane #Youtube

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fatehbaz · 2 years ago

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On the night of April 30, 1541, the Ming Ancestral Temple in Beijing was struck by lightning and burned to the ground. [...]

[T]he fires forced the Jiajing Emperor to resurrect one of the dynasty’s most expensive, difficult, and destructive projects: the logging of old-growth timber in the far southwest of China. Disaster struck again in 1556, when fires burned the Three Halls that form the central axis of the Forbidden City. The Three Halls burned yet again in 1584. [...] Yet the lightning strikes in Beijing were also a disaster for the old-growth forests of the southwest, where the logs to build the palaces had first been cut in the early 1400s. As logging supervisors soon learned, ancient trees could not be felled on a regular basis. Officials pressed ever deeper into the gorges of southern Sichuan and northern Guizhou to find them, bringing massive transformations to the environment in the process.

---

The foundations of Beijing were laid between 1406 and 1421 by the Yongle emperor, a junior son of the Ming founder, who moved the court to his personal appanage in north China. [...] Grasping the sinews of power that connected his court to far-flung regions of the empire, Yongle pulled one million laborers to Beijing to build his palaces. Because the weight of Chinese buildings is carried by their pillar-and-beam frameworks (liangzhu), monumental buildings required monumental trees (Figure 2). So Yongle also dispatched a similarly large labor force to the old-growth forests of the far southwest to cut the fir (Cunninghamia lanceolata) and nanmu (Phoebe zhennan) that grew straight and tall enough to be used for imperial construction.

We cannot be certain just how many logs were cut to build Beijing, but the figure must have been astounding. In 1441, two decades after the completion of the project, 380,000 large timbers were left over from the earlier construction. By 1500, these too were gone, used for repairs or too damaged by rot to be used for construction purposes.

---

In the sixteenth century, logging officials wondered how their predecessors had been able to obtain so many giant timbers. Li Xianqing, who supervised more than 40 logging sites in the 1540s, noted that large trees could still be found, but they could only be transported out with great difficulty and at great expense. The majority had to be discarded as hollow or insect-damaged. Even when a quality log was found, it took five hundred workers to tow a log over mountain passes.

Skilled craftsmen were on hand to build “flying bridges” (fei qiao), stone-lined slip roads, and enormous capstans (tianche) to tow the logs up slopes (Figures 3 and 4). In the remote forests of the southwest, loggers faced attacks by snakes, tigers, and “barbarians” (manyi); “miasmatic vapors” (yanzhang, probably malaria); storms, forest fires, rockslides, and raging rivers (Figure 5). Labor teams had to carry their own food and often starved. At the rivers, logs were tied into massive rafts bound with bamboo for buoyancy, towed by teams of 40 men, and then launched on the three-year, three-thousand-kilometer journey to Beijing (Figure 6). Only a small fraction of the trees reached the capital in a condition where they could be used for palace building.

---

Expeditions exceeded their budgets up to fiftyfold.

One official remarked, “the labor force numbers in the thousands; the days number in the hundreds; the supply costs number in the tens of thousands each year.” Another saying held that “one thousand enter the mountains, but only five hundred leave” (rushan yiqian chu shan wubai). To make matters worse, logging mostly occurred within territory that was under only loose Ming control [...].

---

The Yongle Palaces were said to replicate the otherworldly atmosphere of the old-growth forests where their pillars originated. The presence of these timbers in Beijing linked the capital, materially and symbolically, to the southwestern landscape of cliffs and gorges where the trees had grown.

But ancient sentinel trees could not be reproduced on demand. The fifteenth-century logging project was a millennial event, removing the growth of hundreds or even thousands of years. Later officials were forced to come to terms with the transformations their predecessors had wrought in the ancient forests. Eventually builders had to switch to smaller, commercially available timber, using ornate artisanship and commercial efficiency to substitute for the austere majesty of the early Ming palaces, and the thousands of years of tree growth on which they rested.

---

All text above by: Ian M. Miller. “The Distant Roots of Beijing’s Palaces.” Rachel Carson Center for Environment and Society, Environment & Society Portal, Arcadia no. 39. Autumn 2020. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me. Presented here for commentary, teaching, criticism purposes.]

#abolition #ecology #colonial #imperial #plantation #multispecies #landscape #indigenous

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violettduchess · 7 months ago

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A/N: It's been a long haul but it's finally done! Thank you to @lorei-writes for all the encouragement and advice and for helping me take a step into an area of fanfic I never really considered exploring before!

OC Captain Leyla Quinn x Silvio Ricci

Their first meeting

WC: 4k

The sight of sunlight glistening off the waters of the bay never fails to bring Leyla a sense of calm. The brightness dancing along the wavering surface feels like it echoes through her bones, steadying and strengthening her, as real and solid as the wooden dock beneath her boots or the hand that suddenly clamps down on her shoulder.

What the….

With a sharp intake of air, she turns to find Kai, her trusted Quartermaster, has joined her on the pier. The sunlight winks off his bald head and the gold hoop in his ear. Leyla isn’t a short woman but next to Kai, anyone would feel small. He reminds her of the giant Oak trees found in the forests of his native Obsidian: tall, broad, imposing. He gestures with one muscular arm and the orange kraken tattooed from wrist to elbow undulates with the movement.

“Shipwright says repairs will be done by tomorrow.”

Siren’s Call, her ship, took some minor damage before reaching the Tourmaline port thanks to a particularly nasty storm that harrowed them on the last day of their journey. She knew the damage was minimal but keeping the ship in tip-top shape was one of Leyla’s biggest concerns. She had seen firsthand what could happen when a captain became lackadaisical with the care of their ship and when she had become Siren’s Call’s owner, she vowed to never be so complacent.

She shifts her sky-blue gaze over to where the ship is docked. Several figures can be seen scurrying around the deck. She recognizes several members of her crew and grins slowly when she notices Amani, her boatswain, is among them.

“Amani's got a handle on things, I’m sure.” Fiery Amani from the mystical land of Tanzanite with her explosion of lilac curls and stormy gray eyes sometimes scares Leyla with how well she knows Siren’s Call, almost as if she and the ship share a mind and a soul. She wouldn’t let them get away with so much as an off-center nail.

Kai’s laughter greets her ears like a roll of jolly thunder. “She’s probably the reason they’re almost done, the little terror.”

“Captain Quinn!”

Leyla and Kai both turn at the same time to see a grizzled man with a thick white beard and skin like aged leather approaching, his arms held out wide in jubilant greeting.

“Rumford, you old pirate!” Leyla’s voice is warm with affection as she claps the old man on the back heartily. Kai’s large hand grips his arm in greeting, his smile also welcoming.

The older man’s green eyes twinkle like sea glass as he nods towards the docks. “Ship’s lookin’ good, Captain. I heard ‘bout your troubles with the storm but it seems Lady Luck still favors ya.”

Leyla throws the dark waves of her hair over her shoulder as she glances at her ship and then back to Rumford who is now leaning against one of the nearby wooden pillars.

“Ah, but that's less to do with luck and more to do with the skill of my crew.” Her voice swells with pride. Her crew is her family and it's obvious to anyone who speaks to her how fiercely she treasures them.

Rumford scratches at the edges of his worn blue bandana, shrugging one bony shoulder. “Fair enough, lass, fair enough. Lord knows ya got one of the best…” He pauses, eyes bright as he remembers something and he motions for her and Kai to come closer. “I do have a bit of interestin’ news for ya both.”

Kai can never resist gossip and immediately moves a step closer. Leyla, a bit more skeptical, crosses her arms slowly and grins.

“Go on then, old timer.”

Rumford clears his throat. “The storm wasn’t the only thing makin’ waves around here." He lowers his voice conspiratorially. "The Red Queen herself was around these parts not several days ago.”

Leyla’s dark brows rise. “You don’t say.”

He nods sagely. “Aye. Ya see, a slave ship carryin’ cargo from the Peridot Islands was sunk not that far from here. One lone crew member survived and he was scared shitless. Claimed the ship moved silent as a ghost and the attack was so brutal it was over in a matter of seconds. All the captives disappeared. No other crew members survived.” Rumford’s voice is a loud, stage whisper. “Folks say that ship and her Captain are cursed but I say, they’re doin’ the angels work, takin’ out scum like that.” He punctuates his words by spitting on the dock.

He rambles on for a few more minutes before excusing himself with a hiccup and a wave. Leyla watches him amble back towards the ramshackle wooden buildings that make up the portside town.

“I told you one had gotten away.” Her voice is low as she watches Rumford’s frame grow smaller with distance.

Kai crosses his burly arms. “It was dark. He wouldn’t have seen much. Besides.” He turns, mouth tilting in a grin. “That’s what we wear the fancy red scarves for.”

She snorts, biting back a laugh. Kai hated the red silk scarves they all wore on the bottom halves of their faces when they were on The Crimson Scorn. He knew they had to protect their identities. Some of the ships they had taken down belonged to powerful people, black market merchants or corrupt government officials who would love to find the Red Queen and her crew and send them to a watery grave.

“We should be hearing from Morganite in a few days then.” The small country of Morganite was where they had sent those they freed. A contact was waiting for them there and would help relocate all those who had originally been heading for the torment of slavery.

Kai nods. “I’ll let you know the minute I do.” A seagull cuts a dark figure across the clear sky, its loud call directing their attention towards a ship in the distance, heading towards the port. Even from far away, every part of it screams wealth, from its many billowing white sails to the rich color of its wood.

Leyla squints and then shakes her head. Her disdain for the fancy ship radiates off her like heat waves and Kai laughs, patting his captain on the shoulder.

“C’mon. There’s a pint in The Loaded Cannon with your name on it.”

She watches the gaudy merchant ship for another moment, something uneasy fluttering in the pit of her stomach. A feeling that she can’t quite pinpoint. Like that ship is a harbinger of some kind. But of what....she doesn't know.

“Captain?” Kai is looking down at her with concern in his hazel eyes.

Leyla clears her throat, turning on the heel of her black boot.

“Let’s go. We got some celebrating to do.”

The Loaded Cannon isn’t much, but it has warm food, strong ale and good service which is more than one can say for many seaside taverns. As the sun sinks, painting the sky in dramatic pink and orange, Captain Leyla Quinn is squinting, one blue eye focused with blazing intensity on the crude chalk outline of a person against the far wall of the tavern. Those who are seated nearby or leaning against tables watch, slanted forward in anticipation but not daring to make a sound.

Right……there……

The small dagger leaves her hand, flying with a precision that belies the amount of drink she has consumed already. It strikes the wall right where the painted man’s heart would be with a loud thunk. The grizzled seafarers cheer, sloshing their ale as they raise their mugs in a toast. Leyla whoops with joy, throwing her arm up in celebration before reaching for her own tankard and taking a long, deep pull.

“And that’s how you do it, folks!” Her eyes shine as she sets down her mug, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and laughing at a joke one of the craggy patrons makes about never messing with Captain Quinn.

“You’re good."

A voice cuts through the crowd and she turns, her radiant exuberance slowly shifting from smile to frown as a stranger approaches. In the hush that falls over the tavern, she can hear the sound of his ornate clothing jangling before he even steps into the hazy orange light of the overhead lantern.

Even in the dim room his blue eyes gleam like molten sapphire.

“But I’m better.”

Heat swarms inside her veins, an immediate buzzing that has her straightening her shoulders, lifting her chin as he comes fully into view. He is staggeringly handsome with pale hair the color of moonlight and a face made to be sculpted in marble. His body is long and lean, lines that beg the eye to follow them. His lips are quirked in a smile painted in equal shades arrogance and confidence. A smile that has her suck in a breath and there it sticks, right in her chest, as she finds herself locked into that brilliant gaze.

She could drown in all that blue, sink into it like a wrecked ship into the hungry ocean, all without putting up a fight.

Attraction has unexpectedly roared like a beast unearthed, sinking its claws into her heart and stomach, driving heat across her skin.

But she is also very aware of her surroundings, of the many gazes jumping with bright interest between her and this tall stranger with golden jewelry that drinks in the ochre light.

Fighting the shocking tidal wave of sudden desire he has unleashed, she slips into a pose of casual interest, her head tilted as she regards him, hoping in the back of her mind that she has managed to look mildly intrigued.

“Aren’t we sure of ourselves,” she says loudly, lifting her mug of ale and taking a sip, grateful for the cool rush of liquid. Her eyes never leave the stranger and he seems amused, head cocked to one side, waiting to see what she’ll do.

She sets down her tankard, turning to face him fully. “You have a very loud bark, sea dog. And it’s my experience that dogs that yap the loudest are the least dangerous.”

A collective chuckle rolls through the patrons as they continue watching the exchange. It gives Leyla a boost of confidence as she winks at the sailor seated just to her right, a gesture of comradery and conspiracy.

The stranger grins slowly, placing a hand on his hip.

“Brave enough to make a bet of it, lady?”

Leyla scoffs. “I don’t make bets with strangers.”

He takes a step closer, looking at her as if she is the only person in the whole tavern.

“We ain't strangers. We’ve been talkin’ for at least a minute.”

“You can take him!”, one of the men calls from the back and the patrons all nod, yelling their support, some banging their mugs on the scarred wooden tables.

Leyla glances around, bolstered by the sight of so many supportive grins, then turns back to the pale-haired man. Alright then. This may be a way to temper some of the heat tornadoing through her. Focus that energy on competition.

“What’s your bet?”

He reaches up, rubbing his chin as if in thought. She can’t help but notice his hands. What a paradox they seem to be. He has the calloused palms of a sailor but with long, elegant fingers bedecked in a variety of expensive rings.

“One throw. Whoever gets closest to the center of the heart, wins. When I win….” There’s a pause as he allows himself the liberty of drinking in the sight of her, from her knee-high black boots to the ends of her wavy ebon hair. “.....you kiss me.”

The patrons in the tavern roar, some with protective annoyance, others with astounded delight. There are an equal number of “Now wait a minutes” mixed in with “He’s got guts, I tell ya.”

That tornado she was hoping to temper rips through her at the thought.

Goddamn it.

Leyla holds up her hand to quiet the room, ignoring the wild hammering of her heart and keeping her breathing as even as possible. However confident this man is, she knows her own skill with a dagger.

“And when I win….” She pauses, imitating the way he looked at her a moment before, then smiles slowly. “I get that fancy sword of yours.”

His hand automatically comes up the sword at his hip, to touch the beautiful gold hilt inlaid with elegant azure gemstones. She’s struck a nerve, picking something that obviously holds value to him. Their gazes meet and lock, like the antlers of stags locked in combat.

“It’s a bet.” His voice is light, easygoing but she notices the way his hand is still possessively wrapped around the hilt of his sword. “Ladies first.”

She reaches down, slipping her fingers into the inside of her boot and removes the dagger she has carried with her ever since her first journey across the sea. She has wielded it a thousand times, knows its heft, its dynamics, its length. She could throw it with her eyes bound and it would hit its mark.

The patrons hold their breath. Never has she experienced the tavern as quiet as it is now. She turns, facing the chalky outline of the man on the wooden wall.

The only sign of nervousness is the slight press of her lips, the thin line they form as she breathes in deeply.

Once.

Twice.

And then she throws. The dagger sails from her hand as sure and steady an arrow from Diana’s bow where it lands with a satisfying thunk right where the man’s heart would be. The tavern erupts into cheers and she feels a wave of pure relief wash over her as she steps aside, unable to keep from grinning.

There’s no way–

He moves with the litheness of a predator, elegance and unbelievable speed blending together in the extension of his arm as his jeweled dagger flies towards the outline. There is another thunk, followed by the hollow thud of Leyla’s dagger as it is dislodged from the wall and falls in a dramatic swoon to the dusty floorboards. In its place, the silver and sapphire dagger gleams victorious.

The tavern erupts again, this time louder than before. It sounds like one loud roar as patrons jump up, some cheering, some in shock, some even clapping this stranger in his elegant clothing on the shoulder.

Well, fuck.

He passes her, going to retrieve the daggers and she’s hit with the smell of sea salt and something else, something tangy and expensive. Her heart thunders in her chest as the crowd around her calls out teasing words and praise for them both.

The stranger flashes her a smile, all white teeth and triumph, as he holds out her dagger to her, hilt first.

“Told ya,” he says in a low, infuriatingly attractive whisper.

She takes the dagger from him with a loud exhale. She can’t help but notice the eager look on many of the patron’s faces. After all, she did agree to kiss him if she lost….

“Not here,” she snaps, turning on her boot heel and marching straight out of the tavern and into the cool night air. Losing has temporarily doused some of the heat his presence had ignited in her.

Maybe he won’t follow her.

He follows her.

And she has to admit to herself….she’s not sorry.

When she reaches her destination, he barks out a laugh. She’s literally marched across the street, stopping on the wooden portico of the boarding house directly across from the tavern. The raucous sounds of the patrons within The Loaded Cannon are still audible as they float along on the cool sea breeze.

��Too good for a room in the tavern?”

Now they are ostensibly alone, standing in the dim light of the single lantern hanging next to the wooden sign of the boarding house. She thought he was handsome before but now, up close and away from other people, his presence swallows everything else around her, as strong as the unyielding pull of the bright moon on the tide. Has she ever, ever been so immediately drawn to a person like this?

“I like my privacy.” The word hangs in the air between them, sparkling like a gemstone, smooth as silk.

He takes a step towards her and for the first time, she can see the effect she is having on him. His eyes are dark as the sea at midnight, his body radiating an electric tension as he draws closer to her.

So it's not just her. He feels it too.

“Ya lost, sea witch. Time to pay up.”

Something inside Leyla bursts.

Like a sea anemone opening its explosively bright body to the current.

Like cannon fire.

Like lust.

She reaches out, grabbing him by the wrist, feeling the softness of his white silk tunic under her palm and pulls him to her, stretching up to press her mouth to his.

Oh……

……..oh…….

………………fuck.

He tastes sweet as rose liquor and twice as potent. She wraps her arms around him, immediately wanting to get closer, drinking him in like he might disappear at any second as something ferocious is let loose. Something wild that winds itself around them. Something blistering. Something that feels like vague danger and crystal-clear want. Those long fingers are curling themselves into her black hair, wearing it like his golden rings. He pulls slightly to shift her head, giving him a better position to plunder the heat of her mouth, to swallow every gasp she makes. And when she groans, he yanks her even closer, like he can’t take it, and she swears she can feel his heart banging like drumfire in his chest.

A loud whistling breaks through the feverish haze and she sees several sailors grinning as they exit the tavern, having spotted them wrapped in each other’s arms.

“Fuck,” she murmurs as the rowdy, ale-drunk group continues with playful catcalls and whistles. Drawing a deep breath, she tilts her head to meet his gaze straight on. “Let’s go to my room.” She starts to reach for his hand but then stops. “I mean….if you want to.” Maybe he doesn’t want to go any further. She shouldn’t assume–

He grins and the sight of it has her heart resume beating at breakneck speed.

“If ya think my answer is gonna be anything except ‘yes, immediately’--” He’s cut off by her yanking him through the doors of the boarding house, hand now held confidently and very firmly in hers.

She kisses not with lips and tongue, but with fire.

Silvio didn’t see her when he walked into The Loaded Cannon. He heard her. A laugh that broke through the smoky din like a burst of sunlight through faded gray clouds. It immediately turned his head, diverting him from his mission to see what he could find out about the captain he would be meeting with tomorrow concerning his trip to Pyrite.

That laughter wound its way through the air, danced over the rumble of low voices, the drunken cheers, the mumbles until he found its source. She was standing, shoulders back, stance wide, wavy hair the color of a moonless midnight sky falling in waves past her shoulders, and a grin so cocky he felt his own lips curving upwards in response. She was jerking her thumb towards the wall where a dagger was embedded within the outline of a person, defying anyone to deny what skill a throw like that would take.

She wasn’t the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. There wasn’t any physical feature that stood out as extraordinary. And yet here he was, unable to tear his gaze away from her. He watched as she lifted her tankard, turning in a way that he got a good look at the pale blue of her eyes, the cloudless sky at midday, and he noticed the small black beauty mark at the corner of her left eye. His fingers curled with the sudden, inexplicable urge to touch it.

“And that’s how you do it, folks!” Her voice surprised him. Deeper than he expected, huskier than he would have imagined. He wanted to hear more.

And then he was on his feet, walking towards her.

“You’re good……but I’m better.”

And those five words lead him to this moment, right now. To this woman who has invaded every one of his senses with lightning speed, her fingers brazenly roaming through his hair as she leaves a trail of kisses across his bare shoulder like droplets of lava. A tornado of hunger tears its way through his body, tangling his veins and burning up any thoughts other than how much he wants her, this blue-eyed siren who smells like orange blossoms and feels like heaven under his palms.

Her name…..it doesn’t matter. Who needs something so unimportant? His mouth has other things to do. Like an unspoken agreement, neither one of them has said a word since stumbling into her room. The seconds are for tasting as much of the other as they can, as quickly as they can. They fall in tandem onto the bed, never letting go. Two people drowning and grasping each other as they sink down into the storm of need.

Has he ever been so lost, so completely immersed in another person like this? Has he ever felt so frantic from just a touch, a sigh?

And then she wraps her arms around his shoulders, her legs around his waist and there is room for nothing else in his mind. Just her. And he plans to enjoy every second he has, swimming in this tempestuous sea of lust and longing, until the dawn kisses the night and the sky turns pale with morning’s glow.

Leyla’s eyes open just as the last blush of peach is fading from the clouds and the sun continues its climb through the morning sky. Her body feels languid with the memory of the night, heavy with satisfaction. She stretches with a slow yawn, running a hand over the side of her neck and down the tender slope to her shoulder, an expanse of skin peppered with the rosy echoes of a stranger's passionate kisses. Her hips are marked by the strong grip of his nimble fingers. Ah, but it can't be just her. Oh, no. His body must carry the same evidence of their night together. She remembers well the feel of his muscular back under her fingernails, the softness of his earlobe between her teeth.

A shiver runs through her at the thought. One of the most memorable nights of her life and she doesn’t even know his name.

She turns towards the nightstand with the intention of checking the time on her pocket watch and freezes.

There, leaning against the wooden night table, is his sword. A parting gift. A thank you.

Her grin rivals the brightening sky.

“Had a good night, did you?” Kai glances at his captain as they head down the street towards the Merchant’s Guild, one of the better constructed and larger buildings in the entire town.

Leyla adjusts her fitted long coat. It is a deep royal blue and decorated with gold filigree, the one she always wears when she needs to make a strong impression. Her blouse is white and crisp and a black leather sword baldric is strapped across her body. And hanging at her side is the sword, its golden handle and sapphire stones winking cheerily in the sunlight.

“That is for me to know. And you to never ask about again.” But she knows he can read her like a seafarer can the stars. He notices the extra bounce in her step, the white silk scarf tied strategically around her neck, the small, secretive smile that hasn’t left her lips since he picked her up.

He laughs as they approach the building, the sound buoyant and warm.

“Alright, alright. Let’s focus on the task at hand then. Remind me who exactly set up this meeting?”

She pauses at the foot of the stairs that lead up to the wide, ornately carved double doors.

“An emissary from Benitoite has been sniffing around different port towns. Some prince is looking for a crew who knows these waters. Apparently he’s been searching for a captain willing to take him through Blackwater Strait. He’s got cargo that needs to be delivered to Pyrite.”

Kai nods in recollection, now remembering the first time she told him this story. “I only know one captain who is crazy enough to do that.”

They share a grin and Leyla adjusts the blue velvet tricorn hat on her head, fingers brushing against the elegant white feather it boasts. “Should be easy money.”

They walk in step with each other through the heavy double doors and are immediately met by a slender man with dark curls and glasses. He's dressed in the elegant clothing of a royal adjutant.

“Ahh Captain Quinn, right this way.” He glances at her and then up up up at Kai nervously before leading them down the hallway and through another set of doors that open into a large, airy meeting room.

Kai steps in confidently but for the second time that morning, Leyla freezes.

The man waiting by the window, the one dressed in ornate finery, absurdly trimmed with white and black fur. The one whose golden jewelry jangles as he turns to face them. The one with pale hair the color of moonlight and a face made to be sculpted in marble.

“Prince Silvio of Benitoite,” the aide says formally.

It can’t be……

He’s the prince?

“Captain Leyla Quinn, of the Siren’s Call.”

Silvio’s shocked expression is a mirror of her own.

She’s the captain?

The same word leaves both their lips, at the same time.

“Fuck.”

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#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #silvio ricci #ikepri silvio #ikemen silvio #ikepri oc #ikemen oc #leyla quinn #leyla x silvio #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen fanfic #otome fanfiction #violettwrites

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