#wait. i need to stop talking in the tags or i'll be here all day

[incesthemes]

i realize how demented this sounds but hear me out okay.

when sam first sees the "angel" in houses of the holy, dean offers him a drink from his flask—sam refuses. at the end of the episode when sam's faith has been crushed by the disappointing reality, dean offers his flask again, and sam accepts it this time.

the difference between these two scenes lies in sam's faith: in the first sequence, sam is filled with a religious fervor and a hope for his own redemption. in the second, he's crippled and lost and hopeless. there's a few interpretations of this which i think all kind of overlap and influence each other.

first and foremost, the most literal, baseline interpretation of this is probably that sam is interpreting dean's gesture (somewhat accurately) as being dismissive of his experience in the first sequence, but as compassionate in the second. there is a marked difference in how dean offers the flask to sam each time, and dean too has undergone a change throughout the episode to influence his understanding of god and faith.

but these scenes can also have interesting symbolic meaning, too. this is alcohol that dean is offering. it's a substance from which abstinence is associated with moral purity—the prohibition movement was led by protestants seeking to eliminate corruption and violence from the world, and it was framed as a battle for morality. therefore, temperance is seen as good, pure, and righteous. when sam is consumed by his faith, he abstains. when he loses his faith, he imbibes.

and through that moral lens, there's another interesting interpretation that can be found. the flask belongs to dean, and he is seen drinking from it. when sam drinks from it, too, they're literally swapping spit. metaphorically, drinking from the same flask can be seen as a kiss, and this isn't the only time this metaphor is used, either. in sex and violence, nick drinks from dean's flask, then lets dean drink from it again—and this sharing of saliva is what puts dean under his siren's spell.

in sex and violence, sharing a flask is depicted as an explicitly sexual act, a stand-in for a kiss. nick is dean's sexual fantasy, the ideal little brother, and he snags dean through an indirect kiss.

so if sharing a flask is a sexual act, then it can apply here: abstaining from alcohol is morally righteous and good, and imbibing is morally tarnished. sam, in his ecstasy, wants to be good—he thinks he's been chosen for redemption, after all. he wants to live up to the potential that the "angel" sees in him. he refuses the drink, and only when he's lost his faith does he accept it.

but it's dean's flask. accepting the drink would also be a sexual thing—he would be kissing his brother. it would be an act of incest, something impure and unholy and sinful. he wants to be good, so he rejects not just the drink but dean himself, because to engage with him would be a sin. this rejection is embedded within a plot which drives sam and dean apart, their religious philosophies at war. they drift further apart with each clash of theologies, and they both reject each other's perspectives in their loyalty to their own.

it's only after he loses his faith that he stops trying to be good, that he accepts the drink, that he takes dean back into himself. he kisses his brother when he returns to him, and it's after this reuniting kiss that they're able to come together again and find compromise and concession, their respective ideologies shifting toward each other's until they've found equilibrium again. through the flask, they literally kiss and make up, and their codependency is secured through that kiss.

[harrysfolklore]

future wife - ln4

summary: lando always says that yn russell is his future wife. the entire paddock thinks he's just joking, but he's not. wc: 6k + social media posts

folkie radio: HERE IT IS !!! FINALLY !! i loved writing lovesick puppy lando so so much and i really hope you love him too. PLEASE SEND YOUR FEEDBACK AND LEAVE A REBLOG !

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

liked by georgerussell63, landonorris and 206,378 others

yn.russell silverstone race weekends always hit different 🥹 big bro starting front row tomorrow and i couldn’t be prouder LETS GOOOO

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username1 the most iconic russell

username2 COME ON RUSSELL NATION

landonorris excuse me why didn’t you include a picture of your future husband here ??

↳ yn.russell lando your delusions are talking again

↳ username1 hey he ALWAYS does this

↳ username2 lando and yn’s banter will never get old

carmenmmundt Love you both ❤️

username3 LANDO BEING ANNOYING IN THIS COMMENT SECTION AS ALWAYS

charles_leclerc I see homeboy trying to shoot his shot again

↳ landonorris what are you talking about? we’ll get married

↳ yn.russell LANDO STOP 😭

username4 she’s the real paddock princess

username5 lando really said fake it till you make it

username6 GEORGIE BOY DID IT

georgerussell63 Love you so much little one 🤍 Also Lando, she’s still my sister

↳ landonorris and? she’s my girl 😍

↳ yn.russell STOP

liked by yn.russell, maxverstappen1 and 986,409 others

landonorris honey i’m hooooome 🇬🇧😘 picture by my favorite girl @/yn.russell

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username1 LANDOOOOO

username2 the papaya hat is killing me

username3 CALLING LITTLE RUSSELL HIS GIRL AS ALWAYS

mclaren Papaya forever 🧡

username4 manifesting lando and yn wedding

carlossainz55 Just wait until George finds you cabron

↳ landonorris he knows she’s my future wife

↳ georgerussell63 I HATE YOU

username5 DYING AT THIS COMMENT SECTION LANDO YOU HAVE NO SHAME

username6 lando and yn are my favorite platonic lovers (actually there’s nothing platonic about them we all know it)

username7 SO BOYFRIEND CODED

yn.russell lando i need you to look at me when i tell you this…

↳ landonorris yes i do darling 😍

↳ georgerussell63 I’m literally never letting you two fly together again

↳ username1 IM WHEEZING

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You're lounging in George's motorhome at the track, scrolling through your phone while he reviews data with Alex. Carmen is perched on the sofa beside you, both of you sharing occasional knowing looks at the boys' intense focus on lap times.

"Oh, by the way," you say casually, not looking up from your phone, "I won't be around for dinner tonight. Got a date."

The effect is immediate. George's head snaps up from the screen, Alex nearly drops his water bottle, and Carmen tries (and fails) to hide her amused smile.

"A date?" George's protective brother mode activates instantly. "With who?"

"That new marketing guy from McLaren," you reply, finally glancing up. "Jacob. You know, the one I was talking to at the paddock party last week?"

"The tall blonde one?" Alex pipes up, earning himself a sharp look from George.

"Not helping, mate," George mutters.

"He seems nice," Carmen offers diplomatically, though there's something knowing in her expression that you can't quite read.

"Speaking of nice," Alex says with a poorly concealed grin, "should we tell Lando? You know, since he's been planning your wedding since 2018 and all."

The friendship between you and Lando dates back to karting days, when you'd tag along with George to races. You were fourteen when you first met a tiny, curly-haired Lando who immediately declared you were "pretty cool for a girl." Despite George's protective big brother routine, you and Lando became inseparable during race weekends.

The marriage jokes started right when Lando was making his F2 debut. You were both hanging out in the paddock when he suddenly announced, "When we get married, our wedding colors have to be papaya orange. Because I know I'll drive for Mclaren"

"Bold of you to assume I'd marry you, Norris," you'd laughed.

"Please, you love me," he'd grinned, throwing an arm around your shoulders. "Plus, I've already told my mum you're the one. Can't disappoint her now, darling."

That was the first time he called you darling, but it certainly wasn't the last. Over the years, the pet names multiplied - love, sweetheart, future wife - each one delivered with that characteristic Lando grin that somehow managed to be both cheeky and endearing.

But at the end of the day, he was Lando. And it was all jokes.

"He's probably too busy planning our honeymoon in papaya-colored paradise to care about my actual dating life," you said, trying to sound casual.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Carmen murmurs, just as the door bursts open.

Lando's characteristic energy walks in, his curls slightly messy from his helmet. "Hello lads! Future wife," he grins, making his way over and dramatically flopping onto the couch, his head landing in your lap like it's his designated spot.

"Comfortable?" you ask dryly, but your hand automatically goes to his curls.

"Very," he beams up at you. "Why's everyone looking so serious though? Did George finally realize his neck's too long?"

"Ha ha," George deadpans, while Carmen tries to hide her laugh behind her hand.

"Little Russell was just telling us she's got a date tonight," Alex announces, clearly enjoying the drama unfolding.

Lando sits up so fast he nearly headbutts you. "A what now?"

"A date," you repeat, watching as his face does a complicated journey before settling on forced nonchalance. "With Jacob from marketing."

"McLaren Jacob?" Lando's voice goes up an octave. "My Jacob?"

"He's not your Jacob," you roll your eyes. "And yes, that Jacob."

"The one who still can't figure out how to work the coffee machine?" Lando scoffs, repositioning himself to face you properly. "Come on, darling, you can do better than that. What happened to our sacred Friday night FIFA tournaments?"

"Sacred?" George snorts. "Is that what you call screaming at the TV when she beats you?"

"Oi, whose side are you on?" Lando throws a nearby cushion at George. "Besides, I let her win. Can't have my girl crying, can I?"

"Your girl?" you raise an eyebrow, ignoring the way your stomach flips at his words.

"Obviously," he grins, but there's something slightly off about it. "Who else is going to fulfill my mum's dreams of having you as a daughter-in-law?"

"I'm sure Jacob would love to hear about these marriage plans," Alex teases, earning himself a glare from Lando.

"He better watch himself," Lando mutters, then louder, "Where's he taking you anyway? Probably somewhere boring like that chain restaurant near the factory."

"Actually," you say, "he's taking me to that new rooftop place in town."

"The one I said we should try?" Lando looks genuinely offended now. "That's just... that's just rude, love. I called dibs on taking you there."

"When exactly did you call dibs?" Carmen asks innocently.

"In my head," Lando protests. "This is not fair."

You poke his side. "Jealous, Norris?"

"Of course I am," he says, and for a moment, his voice loses its playful edge. "Can't have someone stealing my future wife away. We've got plans, remember? House in Surrey, three kids, dog named Fernando..."

"You've really thought this through, haven't you?" you laugh.

"Been planning our future since I was fourteen, love," he grins, but there's something soft in his eyes. "Now, would you cancel on Jacob and have a proper movie night with your future husband instead?"

"Still not your wife, Lando," you remind him.

"Not yet," he corrects, "But I'm a patient man, darling."

"Okay this is getting weird," Alex chimes in, "Lando, we're leaving. Little Russell, have fun on your date."

"Right," Lando stands up, but his usual bouncy energy seems subdued. "Have fun with boring Jacob. But just remember," he points at you with mock seriousness, though something flickers in his eyes, "I'm not giving up without a fight. Can't let some marketing guy steal the love of my life, can I?"

"The love of your life?" you roll your eyes, ignoring the way your heart skips.

"Since karting, darling," he winks, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Come on, Alex, let's leave the Russell siblings to their protective brother-sister chat."

As soon as the door closes behind them, Carmen turns to you with raised eyebrows. "You really have that boy pining over you, you know that right?"

"Oh please," you wave her off, though your cheeks feel warm. "We're just joking around. We've been doing this since forever."

"Sure, sister, sure," George snorts, exchanging a knowing look with Carmen. "Because every guy I know plans out their future house in Surrey with their 'joke' wife."

"And names their future dog Fernando," Carmen adds.

"It's just Lando being Lando," you insist, but you can't help glancing at the door where he'd disappeared. "He jokes like this with everyone."

"Really?" Carmen leans forward. "Because I've never heard him call anyone else 'the love of his life' or 'darling' or plan out their wedding colors."

"Or look like someone kicked his puppy when they mention going on a date with someone else," George adds.

"You're both reading way too much into this," you say, standing up and grabbing your bag. "I have to go get ready for my date with Jacob."

"The date that Lando looked absolutely thrilled about," George mutters under his breath.

You pretend not to hear him as you leave, trying to ignore the way Lando's slightly hurt expression keeps playing in your mind.

Because it's all jokes. And he's just Lando.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by carmenmmundt, lilymhe and 211,984 others

yn.russell great great night 😙

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username1 OMGG LITTLE RUSSELL

username2 she's so pretty its not fair

flonorris1 we need to catch up 👀

username3 HUHH DID LANDO FINALLY ASK HER OUT

username4 how did george allow her to go on a date

charles_leclerc Oblivious little baby russell

↳ yn.russell ?

↳ username1 EXPLAIN

iamrebeccad Prettiest girl 😍

jacob___ ❤️

↳ yn.russell 😘

↳ georgerussell63 I'm watching...

↳ username1 IM YELLING

↳ username2 WHATS GOING ONNN

landonorris the prettiest girl in the world and my future wife idc idc

↳ username1 lando have some class ffs

↳ yn.russell ENOUGH

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liked by carmenmmundt, jacob__ and 229,836 others

yn.russell snaps from the summer break 💙 happy happy

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username1 AN ICON

username2 i wish i was this pinterest feed coded

carmenmmundt Love you my girl !

username3 HOLD ON. THE SECOND PICTURE

username4 did she just soft launch 👀👀

username5 LITTLE RUSSELL HAS A BOYFRIEND ?????

username6 if her bf is not lando we don’t want it

alex_albon i know someone who’s NOT going to like this

landonorris my darling 😍😍 do u miss me as much as i miss youuuu?

↳ username1 HES SHAMELESS

↳ yn.russell STOP THIS MADNESS

georgerussell63 I know a lot of ways to make a crash look accidental

↳ yn.russell you’re literally not intimidating anyone BYE

↳ username1 SO SHE DOES HAVE A BF

jacob__ ❤️

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The sun is surprisingly bright as you make your way through the Zandvoort paddock, dodging various team personnel rushing around for Thursday preparations. The summer break was finally over and it was time for race cars again. You're just turning the corner when you hear a familiar voice.

"There's my darling!" Lando calls out, jogging over with his signature grin. "Thought you'd forgotten about your future husband during the break."

Before you can respond, he's pulled you into a tight hug. You catch a whiff of his familiar cologne, the one he's worn since F2, and automatically hug him back.

"How was your summer?" he asks, keeping an arm around your shoulders as he starts walking with you. "Did you miss me terribly? Cry yourself to sleep thinking about our FIFA rematch?"

"Actually," you start, feeling unexpectedly nervous, "I've got some news."

"Oh?" His eyes light up. "Did George finally admit his neck is abnormally long? Because I've been saying—"

"Jacob and I are officially together," you cut in quickly, like ripping off a bandaid. "Like, properly together. Boyfriend and girlfriend."

Lando's step falters slightly, his arm dropping from your shoulders. "What?"

"Yeah," you continue, fiddling with your paddock pass. "We kept seeing each other after that first date, and during the break... it just got serious."

"Serious?" His voice sounds strange. "How serious? When did this— why am I just finding out about this?"

"We wanted to keep it quiet at first, you know? But he talked to the higher-ups at McLaren today about dating someone connected to another team, and they're cool with it, so..." you trail off, watching his face carefully.

"Cool with it," he repeats slowly. Then, visibly forcing his usual grin, "Well, that's... that's great, love. Really great. Though I have to say, my mum will be devastated. She was really counting on those papaya-themed grandchildren."

But his joke falls flat, lacking its usual warmth. His smile doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Lando—"

"No, really," he cuts in, running a hand through his curls. "I'm happy for you. Even if he is rubbish at making coffee. And boring. And probably doesn't even know your favorite ice cream flavor is mint chocolate chip, or that you secretly love watching those terrible reality shows, or that you—" he stops himself, clearing his throat. "Anyway. Good for you. Both of you."

You're about to respond when his race engineer calls him over.

"Duty calls," he says, already backing away. "But hey, tell Jacob he better treat my future wife right. Even if she's... not actually my future wife anymore."

He tries to wink, but it looks more like a flinch. Before you can say anything else, he's gone, leaving you standing alone in the paddock with an inexplicable heaviness in your chest.

But you immediately brush it off. Because at the end of the day, he's just Lando.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by carmenmmundt, lilymhe and 276,504 others

yn.russell making it official 🤍 @/jacob___

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username1 OH?

username2 YALL HE WORKS FOR MCLAREN ??

username3 what happened to lando ?? the marriage proposal??

georgerussell63 About time you stopped sneaking around 🙄

↳ yn.russell shut up old man

↳ carlossainz55 Protective brother mode activated

carmenmmundt You guys look so cute! ❤️

↳ yn.russell love you xxx

alex_albon Well this is going to be interesting 👀

↳ landonorris mate.

↳ alex_albon what? I said nothing

username4 But what about Lando?? 😭 They were literally perfect together

usernsme5 nooo my ship is sinking

username6 the way lando looks at her tho…

jacob___❤️

↳ yn.russell 🤍

landonorris i guess i need to find a new future wife then 🤷‍♂️ applications open x

↳ danielricciardo i volunteer as tribute mate

↳ landonorris sorry mate you're not george's sister

↳ carlossainz55 You okay there buddy?

↳ yn.russell don't worry, you'll always be my favorite husband-that-never-was x

↳ landonorris 💔

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yn.russell has added to their stories

landonorris has replied to your story

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The Singapore night air is thick with humidity and celebration. The club's bass thrums through your bones as you watch Lando being congratulated for what feels like the hundredth time. He's practically glowing, champagne-drunk and victory-high, but something seems off about his smile.

"Babe, want another drink?" Jacob's voice pulls your attention back. His hand is possessively placed on your lower back, and you notice Lando's eyes flicker to it before he quickly looks away.

Across the VIP section, Alex nudges Charles, nodding towards where Lando is now aggressively stabbing at his ice with a straw.

"Subtle, mate," Alex smirks, sliding into the booth beside Lando. "Very subtle."

"Don't know what you're talking about," Lando mutters, but his eyes betray him, darting back to where Jacob is now whispering something in your ear.

"Ah, l'amour," Charles sighs dramatically. "It is painful, no?"

"Nothing's painful," Lando protests, straightening up. "I just won a Grand Prix, in case you forgot."

"And yet you look like someone stole your puppy," Alex points out.

"Or your future wife," Charles adds with a knowing look.

"She was never actually going to be my future wife," Lando says, but his voice lacks conviction. "It was just jokes. Always has been. She's George's sister, for fuck's sake."

"Right," Alex drawls. "So you wouldn't mind if I told you they're probably going to move in together soon?"

Lando chokes on his drink. "They're what?"

"He's joking," Charles quickly intervenes, shooting Alex a look. "But your reaction..."

"Means nothing," Lando insists, but his knuckles are white around his glass. "I just... I don't want her to rush into anything. As a friend. A protective friend. Who happens to be her brother's mate. And her future husband. But like, as a joke. Obviously."

"Obviously," Alex repeats dryly.

Suddenly, Charles straightens up. "Where did they go?"

The spot where you and Jacob were standing is empty. Lando's eyes scan the crowd, something uneasy settling in his stomach.

"Probably just getting more drinks," he says, but he's already standing up.

"Lando..." Alex starts.

"I just need some air," Lando cuts him off, making his way through the crowd.

The corridor leading to the outdoor area is quieter, the music muffled. That's when he hears raised voices.

"You're being ridiculous," Jacob's voice is sharp. "I was just talking to her."

"With your hand on her waist?" Your voice sounds tired. "While I was right there?"

"Oh, so I can't even network now? That's literally my job, YN. But I wouldn't expect you to understand that, since you're only here because of your brother."

Lando's feet move before his brain catches up.

"Everything alright out here?" His voice is deliberately light, but there's steel underneath.

"Fine," Jacob snaps. "Just having a private conversation with my girlfriend."

"Doesn't sound very private," Lando steps closer to you instinctively. "Or very pleasant."

"This doesn't concern you, Norris."

"See, that's where you're wrong, mate," Lando's usual playful demeanor is gone. "YN's wellbeing always concerns me. Future wife contract, remember? Legally binding and all that."

"We're still doing that joke?" Jacob scoffs. "Bit pathetic, don't you think?"

"Not as pathetic as hitting on sponsors' daughters while your girlfriend watches," Lando retorts, then softer, to you: "You okay, darling?"

The familiar pet name makes your chest tight. "I'm fine, Lando."

"Great, she's fine," Jacob moves to grab your arm. "Let's go."

"Touch her like that again," Lando's voice is deadly quiet, "and you'll be looking for a new marketing job. Might want to learn how the coffee machine works first though."

Jacob looks between you and Lando, jaw clenched. "Whatever. This is bullshit anyway. Call me when you're done playing happy families with your brother's friend."

He storms off, leaving you and Lando in charged silence.

"So," Lando finally says, attempting his usual lightness, "does this mean I can keep the dog name Fernando?"

You let out a watery laugh, and without thinking, he pulls you into a hug. You fit against him like you always have, his cologne familiar and comforting.

"My darling," he murmurs into your hair, then catches himself. "I mean... sorry. Probably shouldn't call you that anymore."

You pull back slightly to look at him. "You've been calling me that since we were teenagers."

"Yeah, well," he gives you a half-smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, "things change, don't they?"

The way he's looking at you makes your heart stutter. Has he always looked at you like that?

"Is he always like this?" Lando asks quietly, still holding you close. His usual playful tone is gone, replaced by something more serious than you're used to hearing from him.

"No, no," you shake your head quickly. Maybe too quickly, because Lando's brow furrows as he studies your face. "It's not— he's not usually... it was just a misunderstanding."

He's silent for a moment, his hands fidgeting like they always do when he's worried about something. "You'd tell me though, right? If he ever... if he's not good to you? Or tell George at least?"

"Of course," you try to smile reassuringly. "But really, today was just a bad night. Too much pressure, too much champagne..."

"YN," he cuts in, and the way he says your name instead of one of his usual pet names makes you look up at him. His eyes are intense, concerned. "Promise me."

"I promise," you say softly. "You're a great friend, Lando."

Something flickers across his face – so quick you almost miss it – before his signature grin returns, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Friend?" he scoffs, but his voice sounds slightly strained. "Future husband, remember? Can't have my darling dealing with drama alone. Bad for our future marriage prospects."

You laugh, and he joins in, but there's something heavy hanging in the air between you. Before either of you can say anything else, Alex's voice carries from the doorway.

"Found them! Everything okay out here?"

"Never better," Lando announces, stepping back and throwing an arm around your shoulders with practiced ease. But you notice how his smile doesn't quite match the one in all those podium photos from earlier. "Just reminding the future Mrs. Norris about our very legitimate marriage contract. Very binding. Legally waterproof and everything."

He's doing that thing he does when he's uncomfortable – talking too fast, jokes tumbling out one after another. But his hand squeezes your shoulder gently before he lets go, and you catch him glancing back at you as he bounces toward the club entrance, his "Let's celebrate my amazing win, shall we?" almost drowning out the sound of your heart beating too fast.

Alex watches the exchange with knowing eyes but mercifully says nothing, just offers his arm to escort you back inside.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

texts between george and yn

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by landonorris, georgerussell63 and 287,540 others

yn.russell british boy steps foot in mexico city and instantly thinks he's a local... who's gonna tell him

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username1 LANDO X LITTLE RUSSELL IS SO BACKKK

username2 he looks so cuute

username3 i know her bf is not going to like this

alex_albon he can't even keep tequila shots down. such a fake

↳ landonorris want to test that theory?

↳ charles_leclerc Poor little Lando Norris

username4 HELP SHES SO IN LOVE WITH HIM 😭

jacob___ 👀

↳ username1 i know he's JEALOUS

username5 the way yn's feed is like 60% lando

username6 MY PARENTS

landonorris why is my future wife so mean to me

↳ yn.russell LANDO

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Later that afternoon, you're sitting with Carmen in the Mercedes hospitality when George joins you, stealing a bite of your sandwich.

"Get your own food," you swat his hand away.

"Sharing is caring, little sis," he grins, then notices your expression. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," you say automatically, but Carmen raises an eyebrow.

"She's overthinking," Carmen supplies helpfully. "About Jacob."

"I'm not overthinking," you protest. "I'm just... thinking. Normal amounts of thinking."

"About?" George prompts.

You fidget with your paddock pass. "He wants me to meet his parents. After Abu Dhabi. Says it's time we got more serious."

George's expression shifts slightly. "And you want that?"

"I mean... yeah? I think so. It makes sense, right? We've been together for a few months now, things are good..."

"Are they?" Carmen asks gently.

"Of course they are," you say, but your voice lacks conviction. "The Singapore thing was just a one-off. He apologized. He's been really sweet since then."

"Sweet enough to make up for being a dick?" George mutters.

"George."

"Sorry, sorry," he holds up his hands. "Just... you don't sound very excited about meeting his parents."

"I am excited," you insist. "It's just... a big step."

"Not as big as naming your future dog Fernando," Carmen says under her breath.

You shoot her a warning look. "Can we not?"

"Not what?" George asks.

"Nothing," you say quickly. "Just... Carmen thinks I'm not fully committed because..."

"Because you still light up every time Lando calls you 'darling'?" Carmen finishes.

"That's not— he calls everyone darling."

"No, he doesn't," George and Carmen say in unison.

"I hate you both," you groan. "Look, Lando and I are friends. That's all we've ever been. The whole future wife thing is just our running joke."

"Sure," Carmen nods. "That's why he looks like someone kicked his puppy every time Jacob touches you."

"He does not—" you start, but stop when you catch sight of Lando walking past. He gives you a small wave and his signature grin, but something about it seems off.

"Doesn't what?" George prompts.

"Nothing," you shake your head. "I should go. Jacob's waiting for me."

As you leave, you hear Carmen say to George, "They're both idiots, aren't they?"

"Complete idiots," George agrees. "But at least they're consistent about it."

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by landonorris, carmenmmundt and 298,605 others

yn.russell happy birthday to my favorite “future husband” 🎂 from stealing your caps in karting to stealing your FIFA records (still undefeated btw), you've somehow become one of my favorite people in this weird little world of ours. here's to many more years of terrible jokes, impromptu dance parties in the garage, and you pretending to let me win at everything (we both know I'm just better 😌). love you loads landolorian 🤍

ps: fernando the nonexistent dog says happy birthday to his future dad x

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username1 THIS IS TOO CUTE

username2 YOUR HONOR IM CRYING

landonorris still waiting for that marriage certificate darling 💍 also you definitely cheated at FIFA last time

↳ yn.russell sounds like someone's a sore loser

↳ landonorris sounds like someone's avoiding the marriage topic

↳ georgerussell63 get a room you two

↳ landonorris working on it mate

↳ username1 LANDO WTF

↳ username2 HE HAS NO SHAME

mclaren Happy Birthday @/landonorris! @/yn.russell when's the wedding?

↳ landonorris asking the real questions admin

↳ oscarpiastri I'll officiate

↳ landonorris DEAL

↳ yn.russell STOP IT

jacob___ 🙄

↳ landonorris problem mate?

↳ yn.russell boys.

↳ username3 THE TENSION

username4 why aren't they together yet??

username5 my heart can't take this anymore just date already

liked by username1, username2 and 3,976 others

f1.gossip Lando Norris and YN Russell spotted getting cozy at his birthday celebration last night. Swipe for more 👀

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username1 "just friends" my ass

username2 no because why does he look at her like she hung the stars

username3 wait where's jacob? 👀

↳ username1 apparently he left early...

↳ username2 he posted from a different party later that night

username4 george watching his best friend and his sister like 🧍‍♂️

↳ username1 he's been watching this slow burn for years poor man

username5 jacob watching these photos like 👁👄👁

username6 the way lando calls her darling more than her actual boyfriend does

username7 who's gonna tell jacob his girlfriend has better chemistry with lando in these photos than their entire instagram feed

username8 the "future wife" jokes don't seem so jokey anymore huh

username9 okay but can we talk about how she literally glows when she's around him?

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The afternoon sun filters through your apartment windows as you put the finishing touches on your makeup. You're going out to dinner with Jacob - another fancy restaurant, another chance for him to network while you smile politely beside him.

A knock at your door makes you pause. Opening it reveals Lando, holding a bag of takeaway and what appears to be your favorite ice cream.

"Oh," he says, taking in your dress and heels. "You're going out."

"Yeah," you adjust your earring, but can't help smiling at the familiar sight of him with food. "With Jacob. Remember?"

"Right," his smile dims slightly. "The boyfriend. Must've slipped my mind." He holds up the bags. "I brought provisions for our traditional post-race debrief. You know, where you tell me how amazing I was and I pretend to be humble about it?"

You laugh despite yourself. "Since when are you ever humble?"

"I'm incredibly humble. The most humble. No one's more humble than me," he grins, then peers around you into the apartment. "But seriously, can't you reschedule? I got your favorite ice cream. Mint chocolate chip, because I'm the best future husband ever."

"Still going with that, are we?" you ask, turning back to the mirror to check your lipstick.

"Always, darling," he follows you in, setting the food down and flopping onto your couch like he owns it. "It's legally binding, remember? Can't disappoint my mum now."

"I can't tonight," you say, checking your phone. "Jacob said he has something important to tell me."

"The one who made you cry?" Lando's voice loses some of its playfulness.

"That was one time," you defend, though without heat. "And he apologized. He actually told me he loves me last week. Says he wants us to be serious."

Lando sits up straighter, his usual energetic demeanor momentarily stilled. "And do you? Love him?"

"You don't know anything about my relationship, Lando," you say, but it comes out softer than intended.

"I know you," he counters, standing up and moving to lean against the wall near your mirror. "I know you scrunch your nose when you're trying not to laugh at bad jokes. I know you secretly love those terrible reality shows but pretend you're 'just watching them ironically.' I know you stress-eat ice cream when George has a bad race."

"That's different," you say, but you're fighting a smile.

"Is it?" he challenges, but his tone is gentle. "Look, I just... I want you to be happy. Even if it means dealing with boring Jacob who still can't work the coffee machine."

"He figured it out last week, actually," you laugh.

"Finally! Only took him what, six months?" Lando grins, then sobers slightly. "But seriously, if he makes you happy..."

"He does," you say, though something in your chest tightens. "Most of the time."

"Most of the time?" Lando raises an eyebrow. "That's not exactly a ringing endorsement, darling."

"Nobody's perfect."

"I am," he says immediately, making you laugh. "What? I'm just saying, our future children would have excellent genes. Plus, I make a mean cup of coffee."

Your phone buzzes - a text from Jacob asking where you are.

"I have to go," you say, grabbing your purse. "Lock up when you leave?"

"Fine," he sighs dramatically. "Abandon your future husband with melting ice cream. But just know, Fernando the dog is very disappointed in you."

"Still haven't given up on that name, huh?"

"Never," he grins, but something flickers in his eyes. "Save me some time this weekend? For proper FIFA revenge?"

"You mean so I can beat you again?"

"Excuse you, I let you win," he protests, following you to the door. "It's part of my long-term strategy."

"Which is?"

"Can't have my future wife thinking I'm bad at something, can I?" he winks. "Even though we both know I'm actually terrible at FIFA."

You shake your head, laughing. "Goodbye, Lando."

"Wait," he calls as you start down the hall. "Just... be happy, yeah? Even if it's with someone who took six months to learn how to make coffee."

"I am happy," you say, but even to your own ears, it sounds more like a question than a statement.

"If you say so, darling," he says quietly. "But just remember, the Fernando name reservation is still valid. You know, in case the coffee-challenged boyfriend doesn't work out."

You roll your eyes but can't help smiling as you walk away, trying to ignore the way your heart seems to be arguing with your head about exactly what - or who - makes you happiest. Behind you, you can hear him humming what sounds suspiciously like the wedding march, and you have to bite your lip to keep from laughing.

Because at the end of the day, he's still Lando. Your Lando. Even if you're not quite ready to admit what that really means.

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liked by carmenmmundt, lilymhe and 276,498 others

yn.russell last dinner date before heading back to the circus 🏎️ @/jacob___

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username1 ewww

username2 cute couple tbh

jacob___ miss you already x

↳ yn.russell ❤️

landonorris see you in las vegas darling x

↳ jacob___ can you not?

↳ landonorris sorry mate, contractual future wife obligations

↳ yn_russell boys. please.

↳ georgerussell63 🍿

↳ carlossainz55 Share some with me

↳ username1 LORD

↳ username2 THIS IS SO MESSYYYYY

username3 THIS COMMENT SECTION HAS ME IN TEARSSSS

username4 i feel like shit is about to hit the fan reaaaally soon

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

"I just don't understand why you have to be there for every single race," Jacob's voice carries down the paddock corridor. "It's not like you're actually part of the team."

You're standing outside the McLaren hospitality, what started as a casual conversation having turned into yet another argument. "My brother races in F1, and Lando's one of my closest friends. Of course I'm going to be here."

"Right, Lando," Jacob scoffs. "Because God forbid you miss one of his races. Wouldn't want to disappoint your 'future husband.'"

"Don't do that," you say tiredly. "You know it's just a joke."

"Is it? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you'd rather spend time with him than support your actual boyfriend's career."

"Your career? I've been to every single marketing event you've asked me to attend. I've smiled and networked and played the perfect girlfriend."

"Perfect?" He laughs humorlessly. "You barely talk to any of the sponsors. You're too busy hanging out in the Mercedes garage or watching Lando's practice sessions."

"That's not fair—"

"You know what's not fair? Having a girlfriend who's more invested in other people's careers than mine."

"I didn't realize I was supposed to give up my entire life just because we're dating."

"Your entire life?" His voice rises. "You mean hanging around the paddock like some glorified fan?"

You step back like he's slapped you. "Is that what you think I am?"

"I think," he says coldly, "that you need to figure out what's more important - playing happy families with your brother's friends or having a real relationship with someone who's actually going somewhere in life."

"Hey!" A sharp voice cuts through the tension. George is standing there, face thunderous. "What the hell is going on here?"

"Just having a private conversation with my girlfriend," Jacob says stiffly.

"Doesn't sound very private to me," George steps closer, positioning himself slightly in front of you. "Or very respectful."

"George, it's fine," you start, but he cuts you off.

"No, it's not fine," he says, not taking his eyes off Jacob. "No one talks to my sister like that."

Jacob holds up his hands. "Look, this is between me and YN."

"Not anymore it's not," George's voice is dangerously calm. "I think you should leave."

For a moment, it looks like Jacob might argue, but something in George's expression makes him think better of it. "Whatever. Call me when you're ready to be a proper girlfriend."

As he walks away, George turns to you, his anger melting into concern. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," you say automatically, but your voice wavers.

"Come on," he wraps an arm around your shoulders, leading you toward his driver room. "Let's talk."

Once inside, you sink onto the couch while George grabs two water bottles. "How long has he been talking to you like that?"

"It's not... it's not usually that bad," you say, fidgeting with the bottle label. "He's just stressed about work."

"That's not an excuse," George sits beside you. "Has he said things like this before? About you being just a fan?"

You stay quiet, which is answer enough.

"YN," George's voice softens. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because it's embarrassing," you admit quietly. "He's right, isn't he? I am just hanging around because of you."

"Stop," George says firmly. "You've been part of this world since we were kids. You understand racing better than half the people in the paddock. Hell, you probably know more about tire strategies than some of the engineers."

You manage a small laugh. "Only because you never shut up about them."

"Exactly," he grins, then turns serious again. "Look, being here isn't just about me. It's your life too. You've built relationships with everyone here. Carmen loves you, Alex considers you a little sister, and Lando..."

"Don't," you cut him off. "Please don't bring Lando into this."

George studies you for a moment. "Why not? He's your best friend."

"Because..." you trail off, not sure how to explain the complicated mix of emotions that surface whenever Lando's name comes up lately.

"Because Jacob's jealous of him?" George suggests gently.

"He's not... it's not like that."

"Isn't it?" George raises an eyebrow. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like your boyfriend has a problem with how close you are to someone who's been in your life a lot longer than he has."

"Lando and I are just friends," you say, but the words feel hollow.

"Are you?" George asks softly. "Because friends don't look at each other the way you two do. Friends don't have elaborate future plans including dogs named Fernando. Friends don't get that look in their eyes when the other person is dating someone else."

"George..."

"I'm just saying," he continues, "maybe Jacob isn't entirely wrong to be jealous. Just... wrong about everything else."

You're quiet for a moment, processing. "I don't know what to do."

"Yes, you do," George says simply. "You just need to be honest with yourself about what - or who - actually makes you happy."

"It's not that simple."

"Why not?" He challenges. "Because from what I just heard, Jacob doesn't make you happy. He makes you feel small. And my little sister," he squeezes your shoulder, "deserves someone who makes her feel like she could take on the world."

"Someone like Lando?" You ask quietly.

"I didn't say that," George grins. "But now that you mention it..."

You shove him playfully. "Shut up."

"Make me," he laughs, then sobers. "Seriously though, YN. You deserve better than someone who makes you question your place here. This is your home too."

You lean your head on his shoulder. "When did you get so wise?"

"I've always been wise. I'm the older sibling, remember?"

"By like two years!"

"Still counts," he says smugly, then adds more seriously, "Just... promise me you'll think about what I said? About being honest with yourself?"

"I promise," you say softly, even as your mind drifts to a certain curly-haired driver who's probably wondering where you are for your traditional pre-race FIFA tournament.

"Good," George stands up. "Now, want to go watch Lando absolutely butcher his quali prep? I heard he's still convinced he can take turn 3 flat out."

You laugh, letting him pull you up. "Some things never change, do they?"

"Nope," George agrees, but there's something knowing in his smile. "And some things are just waiting for you to realize they've been there all along."

As you walk toward the McLaren garage, you can't help but think about how some of the best things in life start as jokes - like a fourteen-year-old boy declaring you'll have papaya orange wedding colors, or a nickname that feels more like home than any other word in the world.

Maybe it's time to stop pretending it's all just a joke.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by georgerussell63, carmenmmundt and 301,988 others

yn.russell my big brother just won in VEGAS!!! 🏆✨ from watching you race karts in the rain to watching you stand on top of the podium under those lights... i've never been prouder to be a russell. you deserve this more than anyone georgie. also thanks for letting me steal your champagne and ruin your hair before the photos 😘

ps: mum's crying, dad's crying, i'm crying, even fernando the dog is crying and he's not real x

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username1 I LOVE THEM SMMMM

username2 THIS IS MY FAMILY

georgerussell63 love you little sis ❤️ (but i was definitely the cuter kid)

↳ yn_russell keep telling yourself that x

↳ landonorris can confirm yn was the cuter kid

↳ georgerussell63 no one asked you lando

↳ landonorris just supporting my future wife mate

↳ yn.russell boys please this is george's moment

username2 THE WAY SHE RAN TO HIM IN PARC FERME 😭

username3 sibling goals fr

username4 ok but can we talk about how lando waited to celebrate with george until after yn had her moment with him 🥺

↳ username1 future brother in law behavior

username5 wait why isn't jacob in any of these photos? Wasn't he there?

carmenmmundt so proud of you both ❤️

↳ landonorris *all three of us

↳ carmenmmundt ?

↳ landonorris future wife = future family

↳ yn.russell this is GEORGE'S post omg

↳ landonorris sorry darling carry on x

charles_leclerc the russell genes are strong

↳ landonorris hopefully our kids get her genes

↳ georgerussell63 LANDO.

↳ yn.russell i swear to god

↳ landonorris what? just planning ahead 😌

username6 THIS COMMENT SECTION IS KILLING ME

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

yn.russell has added to their stories

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The Abu Dhabi night is alive with celebration, the McLaren garage covered in papaya and champagne. But you're hidden away in one of the quiet corridors behind hospitality, mascara smudged, trying to muffle your sobs.

"There you are, darling! We've been looking everywhere for—" Lando's voice cuts off abruptly when he sees you. "YN?"

You quickly try to wipe your tears, but it's too late. His championship-winning smile vanishes instantly as he drops down beside you.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong?" His voice is soft, concerned. When you don't answer, he gently takes your hands away from your face. "Talk to me."

"It's stupid," you manage to say. "You should be celebrating. You just won the constructors'."

"Pretty sure the champagne will still be there in ten minutes," he says, thumb brushing away a tear from your cheek. "What happened?"

You take a shaky breath. "Jacob... he..." Your voice breaks.

Lando's expression hardens. "What did he do?"

"He broke up with me," you let out a bitter laugh. "Apparently now that he's secured a position at Mercedes for next season, he doesn't need the Russell connection anymore."

"He what?" Lando's voice is dangerously quiet.

"Turns out I was just... convenient. A way to get closer to Toto. To Mercedes." Your voice cracks again. "God, I feel so stupid."

"You're not stupid," Lando says fiercely. "He's the stupid one. He's worse than stupid, he's a complete—"

"I really thought..." you cut him off, fresh tears falling. "I actually thought he cared about me."

Without hesitation, Lando pulls you into his arms. You bury your face in his race suit, still damp with champagne, and let yourself break.

"I've got you," he murmurs into your hair. "I've got you, darling."

You stay like that for a while, his hands running soothingly up and down your back as you cry. The distant sounds of celebration feel like they're from another world.

"Want me to crash his car?" Lando finally asks, making you let out a watery laugh. "I could do it. Make it look like an accident. I am a professional driver, after all."

"Lando..."

"Or we could put laxatives in his coffee. Though he'd probably notice, since he still can't make a proper cup himself."

Despite everything, you find yourself smiling slightly.

"There's my girl," he says softly, then catches himself. "I mean... sorry. Probably shouldn't..."

"It's okay," you whisper. "I've always been your girl. Even if it was just as a joke."

Something shifts in his expression. "YN..."

"Don't," you pull back slightly. "Please. I can't... I can't lose you too. Not tonight."

He studies your face for a long moment, then nods, pulling you back against his chest. "You'll never lose me. Future husband contract, remember? Legally binding. Can't get rid of me that easily."

You close your eyes, breathing in his familiar scent. "Promise?"

"Promise," he kisses the top of your head. "Besides, Fernando still needs both his parents."

This gets a real laugh out of you. "We don't actually have a dog, Lando."

"Yet," he corrects. "We don't have a dog yet. But when we do—"

"His name will be Fernando," you finish with him, and for a moment, everything feels okay again.

"Want me to get George?" he asks after a while.

You shake your head. "Not yet. Can we just... stay here for a bit?"

"As long as you need," he says, and you can hear his heart beating steadily under your ear. "I'm not going anywhere."

In the distance, someone calls his name.

"Go," you start to pull away. "They need their champion."

"They can wait," he says firmly, pulling you back. "You need me more."

And maybe it's the way he says it, or the gentle kiss he presses to your temple, or how his arms feel like the safest place in the world, but suddenly you realize what everyone's been trying to tell you all along.

This was never just a joke to him.

And maybe, just maybe, it was never really a joke to you either.

But that's a revelation for another night, when your heart isn't quite so broken and his race suit isn't covered in your tears. For now, you let yourself be held by your best friend, your future husband, your Lando, as the Abu Dhabi night carries on without you.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by landonorris, georgerussell63 and 288,760 others

yn.russell back to my favorite job: professional thirdwheel 🏖️ (at least they feed me occasionally) @/georgerussell63 @/carmenmmundt

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username1 MY PARENTS

username2 wait... where's jacob? 👀

↳ username1 he unfollowed her last week 👀

↳ username3 tea incoming

georgerussell63 You love us

↳ yn.russell debatable

↳ carmenmmund We literally paid for your dinner

↳ yn.russell okay fine you're alright

landonorris need a fourth wheel? 👀

↳ yn.russell ...

↳ landonorris i'll bring snacks

username4 THE WAY LANDO COMMENTED SO FAST

username5 LANDO THIS IS YOUR CHANCE

username6 single little russell era is coming

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The winter sun is setting early, casting long shadows across your apartment. It's been a month days since Abu Dhabi, a months since Jacob revealed his true colors, and you're curled up on your couch in your comfiest sweats, surrounded by empty ice cream containers.

George and Carmen tried to cheer you up, making you tag along on their vacation, but now that you were back home, the sulking feeling inevitably came back too.

A familiar pattern of knocks at your door makes you groan. "Go away, Lando."

"Not a chance, darling," his voice calls back. "I come bearing provisions!"

"I don't need provisions," you call out, but you're already getting up to open the door. "I need to wallow in peace."

You open the door to find Lando, arms full of bags, wearing a ridiculously oversized hoodie that you're pretty sure belongs to George.

"Wallowing is officially cancelled," he announces, breezing past you into the apartment. "We're having a proper heartbreak recovery session."

"We are?"

"Absolutely," he starts unpacking the bags. "I've got all the essentials. More ice cream - mint chocolate chip, obviously. Every terrible rom-com Netflix has to offer. Popcorn. Those weird crisps you like that no one else understands. And..." he pulls out a bottle with flourish, "your favorite wine."

"Lando..."

"No arguments," he says firmly, but gently. "I'm not leaving you alone to cry over that coffee-challenged idiot."

"I wasn't crying," you protest weakly.

He raises an eyebrow at your clearly tear-stained face. "Right. And I'm not the most talented driver on the grid."

This actually makes you laugh. "Your modesty never fails to amaze me."

"I know, I know, I'm incredible," he grins, already making himself at home on your couch. "Now come here. We're starting with The Notebook because I know it's your guilty pleasure, even though you pretend to hate it."

"I do hate it," you say, but you're already curling up next to him.

"Sure you do, darling," he throws a blanket over both of you. "Just like you hate reality TV and actually love Jacob's boring marketing presentations."

You wince slightly at Jacob's name, and Lando immediately softens.

"Sorry," he says quietly. "No more mentions of He Who Shall Not Be Named. Though I still think we should put glitter in his car ventilation system."

"George already offered to have him banned from the paddock," you smile slightly.

"Good man, your brother," Lando nods approvingly. "Though my revenge plans are much more creative. I was thinking we could reprogram his laptop to only play 'Baby Shark' when he opens PowerPoint..."

You can't help but laugh. "You're ridiculous."

"Made you smile though, didn't I?" he says softly, and something in his voice makes you look up at him.

"You always do," you admit quietly.

He holds your gaze for a moment before clearing his throat. "Right, well, that's what future husbands are for, isn't it? Can't have my darling being sad. Bad for our wedding photos."

"Still going with that, are we?"

"Always," he says, and despite his light tone, there's something earnest in his eyes. "Someone's got to look after you properly."

"I can look after myself," you point out.

"Oh, I know," he grins. "But it's more fun together, isn't it? Plus, who else is going to appreciate your terrible taste in movies?"

"My taste is not terrible!"

"Darling, you genuinely enjoyed that film about the talking cats."

"It was artistic!"

"It was horrifying," he laughs, pulling you closer. "But I watched it three times with you anyway."

"Because you're a good friend," you say softly.

Something flickers across his face. "Yeah," he says after a moment. "The best friend you'll ever have. Even if you have questionable taste in everything except future husbands."

You roll your eyes but can't help smiling. "Speaking of questionable taste, weren't we supposed to be watching The Notebook?"

"Oh right!" he brightens, grabbing the remote. "Time to pretend you're not going to cry at the end."

"I never cry at the end."

"Darling, you've cried every single time we've watched it."

"Have not!"

"Have too! Remember last time? You got tears all over my favorite hoodie."

"That was one time!"

"One time this month, maybe," he grins, then softens. "It's okay though. My hoodies are always available for your tears. Even if they're about stupid coffee-challenged marketing guys who don't deserve them."

You lean your head on his shoulder. "Thank you, Lando."

"For what?"

"For being you. For being here. For..." you gesture at all the supplies he brought. "For everything."

He's quiet for a moment, then presses a kiss to the top of your head. "Always, darling. In sickness and in health, remember?"

"We're not actually married, Lando."

"Yet," he corrects, but there's something in his voice that makes your heart skip. "We're not actually married yet."

The movie starts playing, but you're more aware of his steady breathing, of how perfectly you fit against his side, of how safe you feel in this moment. And maybe it's too soon, maybe your heart is still too raw, but you can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, the right person has been here all along.

But that's a thought for another day. For now, you let yourself be comforted by your best friend, your constant, your Lando, as he quotes along with the movie and keeps you supplied with ice cream and terrible jokes until you're laughing more than you're crying.

And if you do end up crying at the end of The Notebook, well, his hoodie is already there to catch your tears.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by landonorris, carmenmmundt and 291,483 others

yn.russell FIRST RACE OF THE SEASON. WHAT A RIDE !!!! lando winning and georgie on podium. ALEX P5 !!!! all of my boys killing it 🥺 so happy to be back, i missed this so much

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username1 LITTLE RUSSELL BIGGEST SUPPORTER

username2 SHE WAS SO HAPPY FOR LANDO OMFG

username3 still gutted for the missed mclaren 1-2 but GEORGE P3!!

carmenmmundt You almost broke my hand with all the squeezing !! Missed you so happy my girl 🤍

↳ username1 AHH LITTLE RUSSELL IS HEALING

username4 the way she JUMPED into lando's arms

ciscanorris My future daughter in law! It was so good to see you

↳ username1 AHH MAMA NORRIS CLAIMING HER

landonorris THAT WAS FOR YOU MY DARLINGGG

↳ yourinstagram 🥺

↳ username2 AHH SHE DIDN'T CORRECT HIM

georgerussell63 Love you sis, even tho you hugged Lando first

↳ yn.russell he won okay

↳ landonorris and i'm her future husband

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The Miami night air is warm and sweet, carrying the distant sounds of celebration from the post race party below. You're leaning against the balcony railing, watching the lights of the circuit sparkle in the distance, when familiar footsteps approach.

"There's my darling," Lando's voice is soft as he joins you. "Hiding from your adoring public?"

You smile, not looking away from the view. "Just needed some air."

The past few months flash through your mind - Lando showing up at your door with takeaway after particularly hard days, marathon gaming sessions that somehow always ended with you falling asleep on his shoulder, countless movie nights where he'd quote every line just to make you laugh. He never let you wallow, never let you retreat into sadness. Whether it was surprising you with your favorite coffee in the morning or sending you ridiculous memes at 3 AM, he was constantly there, slowly piecing your heart back together without you even realizing it.

"Penny for your thoughts?" he asks, bumping your shoulder gently with his.

"Just thinking about everything that's changed since last season."

He hums in agreement. "Good changes though, right?"

You finally turn to look at him, really look at him. His curls slightly messy from running his hands through them - a nervous habit you've known since you were teenagers. But there's something different in the way he's looking at you now, something that makes your heart skip.

"Yeah," you say softly. "Good changes."

He takes a step closer, and suddenly the air feels charged with possibility. "You know, I've been thinking..."

"Dangerous hobby," you tease, falling into your familiar pattern.

"Very dangerous," he agrees, but his voice is serious. "Been thinking about how sometimes the best things in life start as jokes."

Your breath catches. "Lando..."

"Like when a fourteen-year-old boy tells this pretty girl she's going to be his future wife," he continues, taking another step closer. "And he keeps saying it for years, making it this big running joke, because it's easier than admitting that maybe, just maybe, it was never really a joke at all."

"What are you saying?" you whisper, though your heart already knows the answer.

He reaches up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his hand lingering on your cheek. "I'm saying that I've been in love with you since we were kids. I'm saying that every time I called you darling, every time I talked about our future dog Fernando, every time I claimed the future husband title - I meant it. All of it."

"Lando..." your voice wavers.

"I know it's only been a few months since... everything," he says quickly. "And if you're not ready, if you don't feel the same way, we can pretend this never happened. We can go back to just joking around. But I needed you to know that for me, it was never just a joke. You were never just a joke."

You stare at him, this boy who's been your constant, your safe place, your home for so long. And suddenly everything clicks into place.

"I'm going to kiss you now," he says softly, giving you time to pull away if you want to.

You don't.

His lips meet yours, gentle at first, like he's afraid you might break. But when your hands slide into his curls, pulling him closer, the kiss deepens into something that feels like coming home and falling free all at once.

When you finally break apart, he rests his forehead against yours. "So," he says, slightly breathless, "about that legally binding marriage contract..."

You laugh, the sound full of joy. "Still going with that, are we?"

"Always," he grins, pressing another quick kiss to your lips. "Though now I'm thinking maybe we should make it official. You know, for Fernando's sake."

"We still don't have a dog, Lando."

"Yet," he corrects, pulling you closer. "We don't have a dog yet. But we will. Right after the wedding. Which will definitely have papaya orange colors because I called dibs when we were fourteen and—"

You cut him off with another kiss, feeling him smile against your lips.

"FINALLY!"

You break apart to find George standing in the doorway, grinning like he just won the championship.

"Ever heard of knocking?" Lando grumbles, but he doesn't let go of you.

"On a balcony door?" George raises an eyebrow. "Besides, I've been watching you two dance around each other for months. Years, actually."

"Have not," you protest.

"Have too," both men say in unison.

"I hate you both," you mutter, but you're fighting a smile.

"No you don't," Lando says confidently. "You love me. You're going to marry me and we're going to have a dog named Fernando and—"

"Still with the dog name?" George groans.

"It's tradition!" Lando defends. "Tell him, darling, tell him how important traditions are."

You look between your brother and the boy - no, the man - who's been your everything for so long, and feel your heart might burst with happiness.

"Actually," you say slowly, "I was thinking maybe we could name the dog George."

"What?" both men exclaim.

You burst out laughing at their expressions. "Just kidding. Fernando it is."

"See?" Lando beams at George. "She agrees with me. Because she loves me. Because we're getting married. Because—"

"Because it was never really a joke?" you finish softly.

His expression softens as he looks at you. "Never."

"Right," George clears his throat. "I'm going to leave before this gets any more sickeningly sweet. But Lando?"

"Yeah?"

"Hurt my sister and they'll never find your body."

"Please," Lando scoffs, pulling you closer. "I've been planning our future since I was fourteen. I'm not about to mess it up now."

As George leaves, shaking his head but smiling, Lando turns back to you.

"So," he says, his eyes twinkling, "about those wedding colors..."

You silence him with another kiss, thinking about how sometimes the best love stories start as jokes, and how sometimes the person you're meant to be with has been there all along, calling you darling and planning your future with a dog named Fernando.

And maybe, just maybe, those papaya orange wedding colors don't sound so bad after all.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by landonorris, georgerussell63 and 201,384 others

yn.russell turns out some jokes become reality 🧡 @/landonorris (yes, we're actually getting the dog. yes, his name will be fernando. no, this isn't a drill - the future wife position has officially been filled, i love you my lando)

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username1 SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP IS THIS ACTUALLY HAPPENING??? 😭😭😭

username2 THE WAY I JUST SCREAMED IN THE MIDDLE OF STARBUCKS

username3 THE FUTURE WIFE JOKES WERE REAL ALL ALONG

georgerussell63 About bloody time 🙄 (but actually very happy for you both)

alex_albon the group chat can finally rest, no more "should I tell her?" messages from lando every 5 minutes

carmenmmundt The paddock's favorite love story

ciscanorris Finally! I've only been waiting for this announcement since they were teenagers 🥰

username4 the way this man has been calling her darling for YEARS and we all thought it was just banter 😭😭

username5 THE WAY I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS SINCE 2019

username6 ok but can we talk about how he's literally been manifesting this since they were TEENAGERS???

username7 this is actually the cutest thing ever like???? he's been planning their wedding since he was 14???? hello???

username8 the way george is probably somewhere being like "finally i don't have to pretend i don't see them flirting"

landonorris worth the wait, every single second❤️ love you darling x

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

It's a lazy Sunday afternoon in late summer, and you're curled up on your couch with a book when you hear Lando's key in the door. You smile, not looking up - he's been coming and going from your place so much lately that it feels more like his home than his own apartment.

"Darling!" his voice calls out, sounding suspiciously excited. "Close your eyes!"

"Why?" you ask warily. "Last time you had a surprise, it didn't end well."

"Just trust me!"

You sigh fondly, closing your eyes. "Fine, but this better be good."

You hear him moving around, and then something warm and furry lands in your lap.

Your eyes fly open to find yourself face to face with the most adorable chocolate Labrador puppy you've ever seen. The puppy immediately starts licking your face while Lando watches, beaming with pure joy.

"Lando..." you breathe, already in love with the wiggling bundle of fur. "What did you do?"

"Well," he drops onto the couch beside you, reaching over to scratch the puppy's ears, "I was thinking about how we've been together for months now, and living together basically even though we pretend we don't, and how there's this one very important member of our family still missing..."

"You didn't," you whisper, even as the puppy settles contentedly in your lap.

"I did," he grins. "Meet Fernando. Finally."

You look between Lando and the puppy - Fernando - feeling your heart might burst. "You actually named him Fernando?"

"Of course I did! I've been planning this since I was fourteen, remember?" His eyes soften. "Plus, I made you a promise, didn't I?"

"We're not married yet," you point out, but you can't stop smiling.

"Yet," he emphasizes, leaning over to kiss your cheek. "But really, I thought... I mean, we practically live together anyway. Might as well make it official. You, me, and Fernando."

You look down at the puppy, who's now snoring softly in your lap, then back at Lando. "Are you asking me to move in with you? Properly?"

"Maybe," he fidgets slightly. "Unless you think it's too soon? I know we haven't been together that long, but it feels like we've been building towards this forever, you know? And I thought, with Fernando here now..."

You cut off his rambling with a kiss. "Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes, I'll move in with you. Properly. All three of us."

His face lights up like you've just given him the best gift in the world. "Really?"

"Really," you laugh.

"You're ridiculous," you tell him fondly.

"You love it," he says confidently.

"I do," you admit softly. "I love you."

His expression melts into that soft look he reserves just for you. "I love you too, darling. Both of you," he adds as Fernando stirs and licks his hand.

Just then, your phone buzzes - a text from George.

"Oh no," you groan, reading it. "George is coming over."

"Perfect!" Lando brightens. "He can meet his nephew!"

"You did not just call our dog George's nephew."

"Of course I did! He's family now. Speaking of which..." he pulls out his phone, "my mum's been asking when we're bringing Fernando to visit."

Before you can respond, George's voice carries through the door. "Why is there puppy food in the hallway?"

Lando jumps up excitedly. "Ready to meet Uncle George, Fernando?"

The puppy perks up at his name, tail wagging as George opens the door.

"You didn't," George says, taking in the scene.

"We did!" Lando announces proudly. "Meet your nephew!"

"My... nephew?"

"Fernando Russell-Norris," Lando declares. "Well, technically just Norris for now, but that'll change once your sister finally agrees to marry me."

"Still waiting on that proposal, aren't you?" George smirks.

"All in good time," Lando winks at you. "Got to do it properly, haven't I?"

You watch George pretend not to be completely smitten with Fernando, while Lando chatters about all his plans for family weekends and teaching Fernando tricks. You can't help but think about how sometimes the best things in life start as jokes about future marriages and dogs named Fernando.

"Our little family," Lando says softly, pulling you close while Fernando attempts to climb into George's lap.

And as you lean into his side, watching your brother and your boyfriend argue about who gets to be Fernando's favorite uncle (while the puppy seems more interested in chewing George's shoelaces), you realize that this - this moment, this love, this little family - is better than any dream you could have had.

It's your reality. Your perfect, slightly chaotic, absolutely wonderful reality.

And you wouldn't have it any other way.

[be-xkyy]

How about the Yanderes training their little babies to be the perfect yanderes to keep an eye on their darling when they aren't around? And I'm talking them telling what you did down to how many breaths you take. Full on lil snitches to anything you do!!!

Hi dear anon, well I think everyone would have their kids keep an eye on reader in one way or another 🖤

Would the Yanderes train their children to watch over Reader?

Tagging list: @kthehoeforfictionalmen ★ @dreamlessnight ★ @riawrld ★ @darkuni63 ★

Masterlist

Yandere Farmer Link

Yes, this man would have his children watch you 24 hours a day. He would teach them from a young age to be completely aware of you when he is not around, he would train them to tell him everything, EVERYTHING, who comes home when he is not, if you talk to someone (whoever), who you call on the phone and he would even make sure his children inform him if you do something that he forbade you to do at some point and you did anyway thinking he wouldn't notice.

Every after he comes home with his older children following close behind after a long day of work on the farm, his younger children would already be waiting for him sitting on the porch steps, they jump to their feet when they see him approaching, they run up to him and start quickly telling him everything that happened while he was gone.

"Enough. Speak one at a time, we can't understand each other. So your mother was on the phone, huh? Well, everyone go feed the horses while I talk to your mother."

Yandere Cowboy Link

Yet another one who shamelessly makes his kids watch you, he finds it funny and might even joke about the fact that his kids watch you, he would call them "his little spies" but if you scold him he would tell you that it is a "cute" thing that his little ones care so much and that just shows how much he and the kids love you, he doesn't need anything else to convince you.

His older kids (four and five years old) come over to tell him everything you did that day, he listens intently while rocking his daughter (one year old) on his hip and kisses her chubby cheeks from time to time, he laughs as he hears his kids fight each other over who tells the "wrong" story, he ends up calming both kids down before they start fighting and get your attention.

"Come on, come on kids, stop fighting before mom finds out and scolds us all, how about we go see your beautiful mother and ask her what happened today?"

Yandere Dilf Link

I think in his case it's more about his worry, paranoia of losing you, something happening to you or you leaving him rather than really wanting to control you, his son and especially his daughters will tell everything about the day to their father since they hate seeing him so worried (he's a good father) if you are more reluctant to talk to him and still don't accept your new life, your children would try to keep their father in the loop.

When he comes back from work and steps foot inside the house his children would already be there ready to ease his worries about you, they would take him to the couch and he would start telling everything to their father who would relax when, he hears nothing strange or suspicious happened in his absence, he would pat his son on the head and kiss his daughters on the cheeks before getting up from the couch to look for you.

"Here you are, honey. The kids told me that today you planted the daisy seeds I gave you... I'll bring more for you tomorrow and if you want something special, just ask, okay, honey?"

Yandere Sugar Daddy Link

He has no shame as I said, he would have no qualms about putting security cameras all over the house so he can see everything you and the kids do when he is working in his office, he would even ask the kids in front of you what they did that day, what YOU did that day, even though he has already seen everything, of course. But he wants to see if they are honest.

His son is more vague with his answers, although the boy wants his father to feel proud of him, he does not want to betray you, his daughter on the contrary tells her father everything from what she did that day, what her brother did, what you did, what the maid did, what the neighbors did... she rants happily while her father listens attentively with a smile on his lips.

"Look at that dear, our little princess is quite an observer, she sees everything. And she would never hide anything from her daddy, right little princess?"

[astonmartinii]

day eight: is it new years yet? | franco colapinto social media au

pairing: franco colapinto x fem albon!reader

christmas day has come and gone and lovers have the agonising wait until new years to reunite (ie complaining a lot)

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

francocolapinto

liked by olliebearman, alexalbon and 828,056 others

tagged: yourusername

francocolapinto: will someone bring my wife back from the war

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user1: i need this kind of man in my life please

user2: i just know he's wearing that shirt completely unironically

user3: i need him to wear it in the paddock please

alexalbon: "the war" being her family's home for christmas

francocolapinto: well yes! why would she want to spend time with YOU when she could spend time with ME

alexalbon: she's not being held hostage she can leave if she wants to

francocolapinto: you're using the pets to your advantage

francocolapinto: DISGUSTING

alexalbon: excuse me?

francocolapinto: free her! and let her bring stan too!

alexalbon: you know what? it's christmas so i won't be entertaining this absolute nonsense

francocolapinto: my love for your sister is not nonsense alex, i am hurt by these accusations

alexalbon: FUCK OFF

user4: oh alex and franco bickering you are so personal to me

user5: i don't know how i'm going to deal with franco not being on the grid next year

yourusername: trust and believe sis, he'll in that paddock no matter what

user6: thank you for your service queen

alexalbon: if you must i guess

yourusername: missing you more baby

francocolapinto: actually not possible

yourusername: you could always come here ...

francocolapinto: and miss out on the sun on christmas?

francocolapinto: and have to hang out with alex ????

alexalbon: i am SICK of you pretending i'm not an absolute hoot

francocolapinto: i'll agree this one time and that's only because you share genetics with y/n so i must assume you must have some of her qualities

alexalbon: what the hell, sure

yourusername

liked by landonorris, francocolapinto and 341,984 others

tagged: alexalbon

yourusername: is it new years yet?

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user9: personally if i had that many cute pets i would not be complaining about going home for christmas

user10: real

albon_pets: that's exactly our points !!

francocolapinto: but not as cute as franco!

user11: did you forget to log into your burner account?

francocolapinto: no i just have a very secure view of myself

yourusername: therapists are AFRAID of him

user12: have we considered they do miss each other but are really on a covert mission to subliminally force us to listen to sabrina carpenter's ep fruitcake

yourusername: it is a banger i will say that

alexalbon: our family are NOT ANNOYING THIS IS A LIE

alexalbon: the song is good tho

landonorris: speaking of sabrina carpenter, do you wanna try out some freaky positions while you're back in england @yourusername ?

francocolapinto: i will tear you limb from limb and then drag you around silverstone attached to my williams like cans from a wedding car

user13: that's so romantic 🥰

landonorris: MURDER IS ROMANTIC?

francocolapinto: stop flirting with my girlfriend or i will invent a crime worse than murder

landonorris: it's a JOKE ????

francocolapinto: i am not laughing.

yourusername: he's so protective hehehehe

landonorris: so you're willing to let franco murder your friend of over TEN YEARS ?

yourusername: he can do no wrong in my eyes

landonorris: ALEX?

alexalbon: firstly, you bought this upon yourself. secondly, franco actually got me a really cool christmas present so he is above you on my friendship pyramid now

francocolapinto: no one can resist franco xx

user14: this comment section is a fucking mess

user15: and i wouldn't change it for the world

francocolapinto: counting down the days xxx

yourusername: i'm so excited i can't stop talking about it

albon_pets: this is true, she's even talking to the cats about it

alexalbon

liked by georgerussell63, landonorris and 409,302 others

tagged: lilymunhe & yourusername

alexalbon: despite popular belief, my sister does actually love me (or she at least loves the animals)

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user16: they're such a cute lil family

user17: and with the introduction of franco's face card they will be unstoppable

georgerussell63: with the absolutely blasphemous speculation in these comment sections i would like to lodge a formal complaint concerning the fact that i have never been invited to an albon christmas

francocolapinto: not cute enough

georgerussell63: i can go toe to toe with you franco

yourusername: lying is a sin george

georgerussell63: what happened to the y/n i once knew ...

yourusername: listen george if you want the invite you gotta marry in to the family, and since both alex and i are taken it looks like your best bet is one of the cats

georgerussell63: that would be beastiality

yourusername: not my problem

alexalbon: please don't fuck one of my cats george

georgerussell63: SHUT UP !!! i merely wanted some recognition for my importance to the albon family but alas you are all IDIOTS. DID OUR HOMOEROTIC SHARED THROAT INFECTION MEAN NOTHING ALEX

alexalbon: i don't really know what you want me to say here?

user18: george has been off his rocker since qatar i fear

yourusername: it's been much longer than that lol

francocolapinto: she'll never love you more than she loves me

alexalbon: considering you two are in a romantic relationship i would hope so

yourusername: oh girlies we should get this all out now before franco gets here and before we camp out in the williams garage all season

alexalbon: i must ask do you have to be there all season?

yourusername: we're scheming

francocolapinto: james can't resist my puppy dog eyes for that long

yourusername: count your days @carlossainz55

carlossainz55: excuse me ??

francocolapinto: you heard her !!!

carlossainz55: @alexalbon is it going to be like this all season?

yourusername: not if we have anything to do with it

carlossainz55: so just for a few races

francocolapinto: no dipshit we're going to steal your seat

user19: i love when a couple really come together to maxmise their joint slay

francocolapinto

liked by yourusername, olliebearman and 823,019 others

francocolapinto: i hate the time warp between christmas and new years so much what do you mean i actually want to be playing trivial pursuit with alex :(

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user21: why does he have a bunny?

user22: it's best not to ask questions about franco really

user23: i want to know but also i think for my sanity it's best i don't

alexalbon: everyone goes on about the 'franco charm' but really it's all about the alex charisma

francocolapinto: whatever, you can have this one, but know you'll never truly be me

alexalbon: was the half compliment in the caption the yearly compliment for 2024

francocolapinto: yeah so savour it

alexalbon: you're so kind franco

francocolapinto: i know 🫶

alexalbon: i was being sarcastic

francocolapinto: compliment is a compliment

user24: franco is the type to be called pretty dumb and just hear pretty

user25: he wouldn't be wrong

yourusername: i've been holding down the fort while i can but this dumbass has clearly done some reading in his spare time

francocolapinto: no one is as smart as you amor i have no worries

user26: is this game of trivial pursuit lasting days?

landonorris: there is no way you're the trivial pursuit champion ???

yourusername: i've won for the last five years running, why wouldn't i be?

francocolapinto: choose your words carefully lando... i'll be on british soil before you know it

landonorris: why is it just me you're going after the whole twitch gc agree

charles_leclerc: not sure what you're on about here lando

georgerussell63: i've always been impressed by y/n's trivial pursuit skills

alexalbon: i love her so much i let her win

francocolapinto: @landnorris consider this a warning

landonorris: how did i end up with the threats again?

user27: franco does not play omg

yourusername: he's the biggest loverboy eva

yourusername

liked by georgerussell63, alexalbon and 603,029 others

tagged: francocolapinto & alexalbon

yourusername: reunited and it feels so good !

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user28: i have never felt jealousy like this

user29: hey siri play that should be me by justin bieber

user30: you're telling me i gotta live and people like y/n get to have an f1 driver brother AND franco colapinto as her new years kiss ???

francocolapinto: longest ten days of my LIFE

yourusername: you can't get rid of me now

francocolapinto: good! i need my fix of y/n :3

francocolapinto: i'm addicted to you

yourusername: you're addicted? they're tryna make me go to rehab

francocolapinto: but i said

yourusername: no

francocolapinto: no !

user31: are these motherfuckers quoting amy winehouse ???

alexalbon: worse, they're actually singing it to each other right now

user32: WHAT? show it to me rachel....

georgerussell63: wait he came to england ????

francocolapinto: yes! you're no longer the hottest f1 driver in the country - i'm so sorry!

georgerussell63: @alexalbon please tell me this little menace is not crashing your festivities?

alexalbon: well technically ... franco is family so he's got more of a right to an invite than you ...

francocolapinto: snooze you lose georgie boy

georgerussell63: you need better taste y/n

yourusername: wanna say that again

alexalbon: oh george ...

georgerussell63: you need better taste y/n

landonorris: oop.

yourusername: I DON'T CARE IF IT'S MEANT TO BE NEW YEAR NEW ME, IF YOU'RE NOT CAREFUL THERE WILL BE NO 2025 FOR YOU RUSSELL

francocolapinto: that's so fucking hot

yourusername: i love you <3

francocolapinto: i love you more

kimiantonelli: do i have a teammate for next year or?

fin.

note: amazing news!!! the vets found that my cat was too healthy to be put down so he lives to slay another day. hope you enjoy this celebratory franco fic, my first for him i think? (can you tell i need to update my masterlist?)

[cinnawonbabe]

ATTENTION, PLEASE! (1)

pairings: professor!heeseung x student fem!reader

warnings: teacher x student relationship, forbidden affairs, smut, oral, both receiving, anal play, praise and spankings, legal age gap

overview: y/n was just like any other college girl, crushing on the young and attractive literature professor at the university she attended. one day she’s asked to come back after class and things get a little steamy. who knew being a teacher’s pet was fun?

taglist 🏷️: @nayeoniiz @mheretoreadff @deobitifull @riribelle @jakeswifez @yohanabanana @fkarchve @1013club @rizz00 @kpopjackie @isagistar @wheretheheckis-ssaki @freaky-enhamadswriter @manuosorioh

SORRY IF YOU ASKED FOR A TAG AND DIDN’T GET IT. I COULDN’T TAG MOST BECAUSE YOUR ACCOUNT WAS NOT POPPING UP FOR ME. PLEASE ENJOY! IF THIS DOES WELL AND GET 400 NOTES, I’LL POST A PART TWO!!

it was the first day back from spring break and to say y/n was excited was an understatement. she was overjoyed to see her friends again. while she was getting ready for her first class of the day, literature, and finishing the last touches to her makeup, her friend winter called. y/n answered, putting the phone on speaker so she could multitask talking and finishing getting herself ready.

"girl where are you? class is about to start," winter whisper-yelled through the phone. y/n checked the time, seeing that she was in fact behind schedule.

"fuck, i'm gonna be late," she said, rushing to put her shoes on. after making sure her uniform was neat, she grabbed her bag and phone before running out the door.

"and who are you trying to look cute for?" winter joked with a laugh upon y/n switching the call over to a facetime.

"no one. i just felt the need to dress up today. is the professor there?" she answered while speed walking over to the building her class was held in.

"no. they haven't arrived yet, so you're lucky for once," winter said with a laugh. "hurry though, i saved you a spot," she added and y/n hummed in response as she approached the building.

she made her way inside, picking up her pace so she wouldn't be that late, but ultimately made it to class.

"fucking finally. you're here," winter laughed, taking her bag off the seat next to her for y/n to sit in. "still no professor?" y/n asked and winter shrugged not knowing herself.

you know, after 15 minutes, if a teacher hasn't arrived to class after the set time has passed, class is canceled?" one male student in the back stated.

y/n turned back to see it was one of the football players. most students got to talking with excitement as it was getting close to that 15 minute mark while others were upset that they didn't get to see the professor today, y/n was one of the students who was pretty bummed out.

just when some students were packing up their supplies, the classroom door opened up.

professor lee heeseung rushed in class. "sorry for the wait guys. i was in an important staff meeting about the fair we're having for the homecoming events next week and we kind of got carried away." he said in between breaths.

he took off his blazer and set it down on the podium that was situated in the front of the room. he rolled up his sleeves. "anyone else feeling a bit hot or is that just me?" he asked, chuckling to himself.

all the girls, including y/n, couldn't help but stare at him. watching him intently.

he has to know what he's doing. he just knows how attractive he is. y/n thought to herself.

"no it's hot in here sir. me and my friends think the air conditioning unit has stopped working." one female student stated.

heeseung nodded his head in acknowledgement, "oh i see. i'll have to make a complaint about that later. let me write that down so i don't forget." he said walking over to his desk situated in the corner of the room.

he pulled out a sticky notepad from one of his drawers and grabbed a pen from the cuphold on the desk and scribbled a mental note to himself there.

"okay, considering i was way behind my schedule. i'm going to give you all a break and just let you either stay here to make up work or you can just leave. it's completely up to you all." heeseung said, looking around the classroom after he placed the notepad back on his desk.

most students didn't hesitate to collect their things and bid heeseung goodbye or thank him for his kindness.

of course he smiled and bid those goodbye before turning his attention back to the few students that did decide to stay. which consisted of a two male students, one being a literature major and the other that just so happened to be asleep and the rest we girls that just wanted an excuse to stare at the professor.

"assuming that you all are here for help and to catch up on work so feel free to ask me any questions, okay?" he said once more before heading back to his desk.

y/n watched his backside as he headed to his desk and wondered what his back muscles looked like under his dress shirt. once he sat down he looked back towards the class, catching y/n stare. she imma looked down in embarrassment and busied herself with her studies, not catching the little smirk that made his way on his face.

y/n felt movement beside her and looked over to see her seatmate fixing herself up before calling out to the professor. "professor lee? i need help on one of the older assignments you gave. can you give me a but of assistance with it?" y/n heard her ask.

he nodded and signaled for her to come to his desk and so she did. getting up from her seat, swaying her hips purposely in the process.

she bent over his desk, showing her cleavage to him as she placed her paper down for 'help'.

that's usually how things goes. most girls go out there way to get his attention but from all the things y/n has seen, it doesn't seem to work. he wasn't phased by it and just gave her the help she needed before he sent her back to her seat.

another girl failed. y/n of course hasn't. in fact, she never tried to because she was too scared and too shy to even hold a conversation or even ask him for help but that never stopped him from trying to talk to her.

he had taken an interest in calling on her sometimes for questions she never volunteers herself from.

usually that would end up with her stuttering to answer it or having her frozen from being put on the spot.

after a while of sitting in a somewhat silent classroom, heeseung cleared his throat, gaining everyone's attention. "attention everyone class is just about over and my next class will be here soon." he stated, looking at his wristwatch.

everyone packed up their things and headed out of the class. y/n was just about to leave before she was stopped by heeseung's voice suddenly calling out to her.

y/n stopped where she was near the classroom door, turning to him as he sat at his desk. "yes, professor lee?" she asked. he motioned for her to come to him, waving his hand in a signaling gesture. she was hesitant at first, she wasn't sure if she should or not. she swallowed her own pride and made her way over to him.

"so i wanted to talk to you to see if you'd like to help me later with gathering things for the art and theatre club. they'll be doing most of the creative work and i promised the directors that i'll head to the storage area in the left wing and get the supplies they needed. i can't do it myself, so would you like to help a poor old man like me?" he asked with pleading eyes.

y/n was a bit speechless as to why he chose her out of all people. he wants me to help him? she thought to herself. there was no way out of all the girls in this class, he chose her. she stood there unresponsive for a bit, lost in her own thoughts. it began to worry him a little bit from her sudden quietness. "it's okay if you don't want to i can always just ask-" he couldn't finish his sentence as y/n interrupted him with a slightly raised voice. "no!"

she realized the tone and volume of her voice and felt hot from the embarrassment. she didn’t notice the change in his demeanor, a slight smirk appearing on his face knowing his plan was working.

"uhm i meant no it's okay professor lee, i can help you. i don't mind at all!" she stated a bit too eagerly.

she mentally cursed at herself because of it but nonetheless, heeseung didn't seem to mind. "great!! just meet me back here around 7pm, okay?" he smiled softly, causing y/n’s heart to flutter. he definitely knows the effect he has on her.

she nodded her head in agreement before flashing him a small smile in return. “yes sir,” she retorted before walking out the classroom door. she was lost in her thoughts once again, geeking over the fact that he wanted alone time with her. this was truly a dream come true.

her thoughts soon interrupted by her best friend winter spooking her, “hey!” winter yelled a little bit as she approached her. y/n grabbed her chest as she calmed herself down. “my bad, didn’t mean to scare you,” winter joked before bursting out into a fit of giggles, earning a slap on the arm from her friend. “that’s not funny win,” y/n stated, rolling her eyes playfully as she walked off with winter following close behind her. “so what was that all about?” she asked, jumping in her face as she interrogated her. y/n gently pushed her back, smiling wide as the scene replayed in her mind. even though it just happened moments prior to this conversation, she couldn’t help but reminisce about how he chose her. winter nudged her, bringing her back to reality. “soooo are you going to tell me why hot stuff over there held you back?” she questioned again but y/n only giggled in response, causing her bestie to groan at in annoyance. “its nothing really, he just wants me to help him with something for theatre class and i told him i would,” she replied honestly.

winter stared at her intensely, looking for any glimmer of doubt. she was trying to see if she was lying to her or not. y/n stared back at her clueless as to why her best friend was seemingly trying to intimidate her for some reason. is she jealous? she thought. ultimately, winter shrugged it off. i guess she was being truthful. “well good luck and make sure you use a condom, i’m not ready to be an auntie just yet,” she laughed, nudging her friend. y/n’s eyes widened upon hearing those words leave her mouth. before she could smack her friend, winter took off running, satisfied with the reaction she got from her bestie. y/n followed shortly behind, yelling out threats to her friend as she did so.

__________________________

time seemed to have moved on so fast. it was already 7pm and y/n was making her way back to professor heeseung’s classroom. i hope this doesn’t look suspicious. she was having second thoughts. maybe this was a bad idea. she didn’t want to get caught up in something that wasn’t true, even though she wished it was. she didn’t want people to think she was having a secret affair with her teacher, but then again she didn’t actually mind it at all. she longed for him to caress her ever so gently. she wanted to feel his lips against her own but who didn’t? every girl on campus wanted a piece of him but can you blame them? he’s in his late twenties teaching hormonal nineteen and twenty year olds. a lot of his students were fresh out of highschool so seeing a young professor was like winning the lottery.

eventually she made it towards his classroom door, peering inside. it was dark and the only form of light was coming from the hallway where she stood. she scanned the room as best as she could but there was no sign of him. maybe he had forgotten. as she was about to walk away she ran face first into something or someone. she looked up and was face to face with heeseung himself. oh god. she thought. a light blush painted her face as she realized how close they were so she took a few steps back. “sorry, i should’ve been paying more attention to where i was going,” she apologized, her eyes averting her vision everywhere but his.

the view was astonishing to him. their slight height difference boosted his ego. it empowered him. he knew exactly what he what he was doing. y/n was timid and kept to herself. she wasn’t like the other girls he taught.

everyday a female student would force themselves onto him any chance he got. he was used to all the attention he gotten. he may not have shown it but he did enjoy it. so it was weird that y/n never seemed to try. he knew she found him attractive but she never seem to give him the time of day. so he started making moves. calling on her during class even though she never raised her hand, taking initiative to talk to her after class whenever he could because he knew it made her heart race. the innocence she portrayed had drawn her in. it was something he had to obtain, more so, alter it. he wanted her to be his, to hold, to control. that’s exactly how they ended up here. he falsified the ‘i need help’ teacher act. he knew she would fall for it. she was oblivious to it all.

he stared at her for a moment before he spoke, “it’s okay, i was just heading in,” he stated before moving passed her and towards the door. he unlocked it and entered the room, holding the door open for her. “are you joining me still?” he asked tenderly, his voice soft and sweet. it made her heart skip a beat. he was pure gold to her. a soft hearted, well-mannered, absolutely beautiful, educated and elegant man was spending alone time with her. she was head over heels for him.

she hummed in response and followed in right behind him. upon entering he closed the door, discreetly locking it without her noticing and flicked on the lights. “i hope you don’t mind, i have to gather up a few paperwork before we head that way, is that fine?” he asked, making his way towards his desk. he sat down, picking up groups of scattered papers that sat disorganized on his desk. he neated placed them into piles before putting them in his briefcase that he brought with him. y/n walked closer, gazing over at him. she watched

him quietly, fiddling with her fingers as she did so. she couldn’t help but think about what winter said earlier. imagining her professor fucking her on this desk right now.

images of him pounding into her core flushed her mind, making her core leak from the slight horniness that had taken over her. she was so lost in thought she couldn’t hear heeseung calling out to her. he then cleared his throat, finally gaining her attention. she looked up at him, face flustered. she looked absolutely stunning to him; no, beautiful actually. he wanted to ruin her. “you’re one of my best students?” he asked, getting up from his seat and walked over to the front of his desk where he leaned up against it.

she was dumbfounded, “i am?” she asked innocently, her brows furrowed slightly in confusion. heeseung found it adorable, she really didn’t have a clue in the world. “precisely. you’ve never been the type to throw yourself at me. that’s what i like about you,” he continued, making her all flustered again. he truly was enjoying this moment right now. “i’m just not the kind of girl. you’re my teacher not a love interest,” she said truthfully, but he didn’t like that response. he knew better than that and so did she. they both wanted each other more than anything right now.

he began to loosen his tie, then slowly unbuttoned his dress shirt. “is that really how you feel?” he asked, finally pulling his shirt open, revealing his toned abdomen. she stared in awe as she watched him strip in front of her. his shirt sliding off his shoulder and falling to the ground. her eyes trailed down his figure. he was a sight to see that’s for sure. she noticed a tent forming in his pants and she audibly gasped unintentionally. a smirk appeared on his lips. gotcha. he thought.

she didn’t know how to react in this very moment. what was she supposed to do? her very attractive literature teacher was standing shirtless in front of her. that’s every girl on campus dream and yet here she was living it.

“i-i don’t know if this is appropriate professor,” she stuttered, averting her gaze towards the floor. she stared at her sneakers until another pair of shoes came into view. she froze. too scared to look up now knowing how close he was to her. he took his hand and gently tilted her head upward so they were facing each other. she gulped, now meeting eyes with a different side of her professor. and truth be told, she was enjoying every second of it. “i want you more than anything right now,” he said, disregarding her previous statement of whether this was appropriate between the two. he didn’t care. nine years wasn’t that big of an age gap for him. she was nineteen and he was twenty- eight years old. how bad could this be?

he looked her in her eyes, searching for any sign he needed to know what his next move was. there it was, like a flicker. he smiled mischievously, pondering his next move but was surprised by her crashing her lips onto his.

she kissed him hungrily. she couldn’t hold it any longer. she needed him right now.

heeseung snaked his arm around her, grabbing her thighs to signal her to jump. she did, jumping into his embrace and wrapping her legs around his waist as their lips danced in one another.

he carried her to his desking, next faltering this kiss. he sat her on the edge, slipping his tongue in her mouth and explore every crevice of it. she moaned into the kiss, sucking on his tongue as he fiddled with the hem of her shirt. he broke the kiss, pulling her shirt over her head, taking it off and tossing it on the floor.

y/n took that time to catch her breath before he smashed his lips back on to hers. she grabbed his belt loosening it up but before she could pull them down he stopped her, grabbing ahold of her hands, “not so fast baby, lets take it slow.”

she whined, disappointed and desperate. he laughed, placing a small and shirt kiss on her lips. he unclipped her bra, sliding it off her. her breasts we plumped and perky. just how he liked them. he attached his mouth to one breast, sucking and swirling his tongue around her nipple. she bit back a few moans that threatened to slip out. she felt elastic. she knew what they were doing was so wrong but it felt so right. the adrenaline rush she got from this turned her on more. at any given moment they could be caught by anyone, a dean, a security guard, or a fellow student passing by.

she didn’t care at all, it thrilled her actually. fueling her desires even more. she watched and he alternated between each of her breast, leaving love bites all over her chest before proceeding to kiss down to the hem of her skirt, he didn’t care to take those off, he wanted to fuck her in her cute little uniform skirt so he pushed them up to get a better view of her leaking core.

a small chuckle left his lips upon seeing how soaked her panties were just from them kissing. she felt a little embarrassed hearing him laugh and tried to shut her legs but he stopped her from doing so. “don’t hide baby, she’s beautiful. let’s she was she looks like without these in the way,” he reassured her, sliding her pantines to the side to get a better look and her dripping core.

her little cunt made him go crazy. he looked up at her as he licked between her flaps. the warmth of his tongue sent shivers down her spine. he placed small kisses on her clit, edging her on. he wanted to tease her and have her begging for more.

y/n was too impatient and grabbed a fistful of his hair, shoving his face into her leaky cunt, heeseung obliged, giving her what she wanted. he began to eat her out, sucking on her clit and flicking his tongue in a way that made her toes curl. soft moans escape her mouth but she didn’t care. everything felt so good right now. place her legs above his shoulders and started to slowly grind against his face. the pleasure building up as she felt ecstatic. she threw her head back, moaning loudly as she continued to hump his face. he watched her as she got closer to her climax, he took two of his digits and plunged them deep into her pretty little cunt.

a loud gasp was heard from her, feeling his fingers deep inside him. he thrusted them faster, curling them as he hit her sweet spot, earning beautiful moans from y/n. he absolutely loved it. he was marking what was rightfully his. he continued his pace as she grew closer to her climax. he sucked a little harder on her clit, humming, sending vibrations to her core. a familiar pit grew in her stomach.

she was close, so so close and couldn’t contain it any longer. she screamed, forgetting where she was for a moment. her back arching as she squirted into his mouth, causing him to choke a little bit as her juices hit the back of his throat. she rode out her orgasm and she grinded on his face more before falling back onto his desk breathless.

heeseung stood up, dropping his pants to the floor as he looked down at her tired little figure laying on his desk. “we’re not finished yet, angel,” he said, stroking his long and thick member in his hand. she looked up, her eyes widened. there was no way in hell that was going to fit in her. “can daddy have some head baby?” he asked softly and she nodded, getting off his desk and kneeling before him. he cooed, watching her doe eyes stare up at him. he was loving this view of her better. she parted her lips slightly as he began to slap his cock against her face.

“open your mouth wide baby,” he instructed and she obliged, parting her lips more as s

he slid his cock right in. his breath hitched in his throat. the warmth of her mouth engulfing his seven inches did something to him. he let her take control, watching her bob her head on his thickness, taking every inch and girth of his cock. “yes baby. just like that. you’re doing so good for me,” he praised, encouraging her more. she forced herself to deep throat him, gagging as she did. he grunted at the feeling of her throat hugging his member, her gagging made the feeling even better.

her eyes started to brim with tears as his cock hit the back of her throat, drool dripping down her chin.

she took her hand and stroked him while sucking him off. this pleasure alone could’ve made him cum but he was determined to last. he grabbed her by her hair, pulling her off him to keeping him for cumming then and there. she winced from the harsh grip but didn’t stop it. she liked how rough he was getting. it turned her on even more.

he bent down crashing his lips onto hers. he didn’t care that she just had his cock in his mouth, he was a real man like that. kissing her hard and tasting himself on her before he pulled back. “open your fucking mouth!” he exclaimed, and she did without hesitation. he spit in her mouth and she swallowed it so effortlessly. “you like that my nasty little slut?” he asked and she whined in response.

he slipped his cock back into her mouth, fucking her throat hard, she choked out a cry around his member. he didn’t care. he kept fucking her mouth hard and deep, moaning loudly. “fuck just like that baby,” he said once more. he felt his climax coming soon so he pulled right back out. “bend over my desk,” he ordered. she got up slowly, her legs wobbling a bit. he couldn’t help but laugh, “don’t laugh,” she pouted and he cooed at her, he helped her lay her stomach flat onto his desk, her bottom side completely exposed.

he bit his lip at the sight in front of him, rubbing his hands against her firmly plumped ass cheeks. he needed to mark them. he took his big hand and smack down on her ass hard, causing a scream of pain and pleasure from y/n. this was all so new to her. she never knew she’d like being treat like a fuck toy by her hot professor. he brought a side of her she didn’t know she possessed. he lashed at her ass a few times, the classroom echoing from skin slapping and cries coming from y/n. who knew being a teacher's pet could be so fun.

handprints now decorated her ass and he was more that pleased to know that it was because of him. only he could have her like this.

he positioned himself at the entrance of her core, “spread for me baby,” he told her softly. she reached back, grabbing her ass cheeks and spread them open; giving him more access to come right on in. he spat between her crack, using his dick to wipe it down towards her cunt before sliding the tip in. they both moaned out in pleasure upon contact.

she felt every bit of his cock slide into her tight little cunt before he bellowed out. his whole member filled her to the brim. he sat there for a moment, letting her adjust to his size before he began to move. slowly thrusting in and out of her, he pace precise and steady.

the desk began to squeak against the floor as he thrusted harder than before, yelps of pleasure falling from her lips. he was digging into her guts. it felt like his tip was touching the inside of her stomach. her moans encouraging him to go harder. he dugges his cock deeper into her, her ass clapping against his skin. the room filled with the sounds of them fucking. he hoped they wouldn’t get caught but parts of him did. he wanted people to see the whore he was making out of her. he wanted people to know who she belonged to. he felt her wet cunt hug his girth, bringing both of them to their high, he fucked her harder, sliding his thumb in her ass. she screamed once more from the unexpected intrusion. fuck. he thought.

the pleasure was becoming too much for her, she couldn’t handle it any longer. both her holes were filled, a sensation she never knew she needed. “fuck baby i’m gonna cum,” he said and she could only moan out incoherent nonsense in response. that drove him nuts. he picked up his pace, fucking her to her climax. she cried out loud as the pleasure was unbearable and came hard once again.

this drove heeseung to his climax as well, cumming deep and hard into her. they hadn’t worn a condom. his cum filling her deep and oozing out with every little thrust he gave before him finally pulled out. he placed a kiss on her back before watching his thick load spill right out of her cunt. he didn’t care that they didn’t play it safe. to be honest, baby didn’t sound that bad to him. she was stuck with him regardless.

he reached over to the tissue box on his desk and began to clean her up and help her get dressed before dressing himself. she sat back up on his desk, her makeup ruined from all the sweat and tears she indured with getting her brains fuck out.

“you’re mine princess, got it?” he stated, pulling her close. she tiredly hummed in response, too warn out to say a word. a small smile formed on both of their faces before they snuck back out and went their separate ways.

the next day rolled around and y/n was heading to class where she met up with winter. “so how was it?” winter asked, and y/n furrowed her brows. “how was what?” she asked and winter laughed.

“how was it when you sucked his dick?” she joked, causing y/n to freeze. how did she know? did someone see us? she thought. winter nudged her friend. “i’m just joking god. i know nothing happened. you don’t have it in you to do something of that nature,” winter assured her, causing her to relax again. she didn’t know after all. y/n laughed, “i don’t think i could ever do anything like that,” she lied.

their conversation was cut short upon professor heeseung entering the class room. “good morning everyone!” he greeted, and most of them greeted back. him and y/n locked eyes momentarily, causing her to blush and look away before he began today’s lesson.

winter grew a little suspicious of that little encounter but said nothing.

if only she knew what was to come in the near future.

THE END!!

[chilumi-shipper]

Not Meant for the World

Kamisato Ayato x Fem!Servant!Reader

Summary: You fell for him, he fell for you, it was the typical start of a relationship, only problem is… well, he's him and you're you. A Commissioner who holds power over the nation, and a servant that basically amounts to nothing in the whole scheme of things. It was a mutual decision to keep your relationship a secret, only to be kept within the dead of night in his bedroom, evaporating before the sun could even rise for another day. But then… Ayato seems so keen keeping it a secret forever, letting the stream of wedding proposals and love letters flood in, going through great lengths to make sure the information doesn't leak out, almost like he's ashamed of being with someone like you. You could only take so much of that.

Tags: Angst no Comfort, Hidden Relationship

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

"You should probably go back to your quarters." As you were snuggled up to your lover's chest, enjoying his warmth under the covers of his bed, he spoke.

"But it's barely time." You whined, pressing your body closer to his and rubbing your face on his chest.

Back then, he would cave, he would chuckle and wrap his arms tighter around you, saying that you could stay for a little bit more and that he didn't really want you to leave anyway.

Now… he pulls away from your embrace, sighing as he looks you in the eye.

"It would be best to elliminate all the chances of us being caught, and I believe that some of the servants have been getting up early to start their shifts." He reasoned, his hold faltering as you feel his arms slip off you.

You felt a clenching pain in your chest as you slowly get up, looking around his room, you didn't want to leave, and yet when you looked at him, you felt like you were being pushed away.

"Okay… I guess I'll get going now…"

This is the part where he would usually kiss you and remind you that he loves you…

It never came…

You left his room without another word.

…

"Is it perhaps too much to visit a festival together?" You asked, not expecting a pleasurable answer from the Yashiro Commissioner sat on his office chair and drinking a cup of tea you prepared for him.

"I believe it is, being seen in public in a non-professional setting would be rather suspicious if it's just the two of us." Ayato responds firmly, oblivious to (or perhaps just ignoring) the frown that formed on your face.

"We've been out together multiple times…" You reasoned, though you sounded unsure, not wanting to sour his mood and lessen your chances of getting him to agree to your proposal. "We haven't been on a date in a while."

"The families offering up their daughters to me are very vigilant of my public movements, suspicions will arise if they were to see me with any lady for no particular reason." He did not even spare you a glance, answering swiftly as he always does.

Yet again, you fail to persuade him to be with you. You prepared to say more, but a knock came before your words.

A guest came to the estate, a father of one of the many noble ladies offering their hand in marriage.

Long story short, he's here to talk marriage business, as these fathers always do.

When the guest left for a moment, "My lord, I just need a few more minutes to talk to you." Many times, you have tried to intervene, not satisfied with how your conversation earlier abruptly ended.

"Y/N, there are matters more important than this. Wait a moment." He pays you no mind, but you have had enough. "You are being too obv-"

"Ayato, stop." You spoke firmly, freezing him in his place. "I'm still talking to you." You approached him, his back still turned to you.

Slowly, he turned around to face you, his eyes held an unfit expression for him, almost like nervousness. "Y/N, let's not do this now…"

"Do you still want to be with me?" You asked impulsively, stripping the formalities and simply talking to the man you knew as your lover. Your eyes fill with tears, looking at him being lost for words. You hoped his answer would be immediate, that he would exclaim that why would you even ask such a question.

As you stood there, "Lord Kamisato, come along, don't let the servant keep all of our time." The guest came back, standing beside Ayato, who had yet to say anything.

No words were spoken, but the Commissioner knew that right there, right in front of the unknowing guest, in your watery gaze, he had a choice to make.

"Why don't you get us some tea in the meantime?" The guest spoke up again referring to you, but you have no intention of moving until your lover finally speaks up.

With a gulp, Ayato stood his ground. "Yes, please prepare us some tea, Y/N. No more of your nonsense."

A single tear, that's what you allowed for him to see as you nodded silently. But as you prepared the tea, your vision was blurry from the neverending tears, your sobs couldn't be controlled as you struggle to catch your breath.

But you needed that, you needed that to remind yourself that you are merely a servant.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

The Yashiro Commissioner sat on his bed that night, looking at the door to his room. His heart was beating fast, hoping for it to open and show the figure of his lover, though the odds are against his desires.

He hoped that maybe you'd spare him a chance, that you'd walk into the room and tell him that you'll allow him to show you how you much he truly loves you.

The door remains close. And so does his heart begin to ache. Ayato didn't sleep that night, he merely lied down and looked up at the ceiling, trying to imagine your warmth embracing him, trying to make it seem like your side of the bed wasn't left cold.

…

"My Lord…" His eyes looked up from the document he's been staring it for the past hour when he heard your voice… calling him in such a cold manner. You said nothing more, placing a tray of tea and pastries on an empty spot on his desk.

"Ahh, thank you…" Ayato looked at your face, hoping to see your usual smile whenever you served him his afternoon tea, yet your face held nothing but a blank expression. You merely bowed at him, before leaving without another word.

Your name was at the tip of his tongue, and his entire being screamed at him to just say it. He wanted desperately to call for your attention, but, though he did not want to admit it… he was scared…

You stopped in your tracks, remembering something that you had to discuss with him. Ayato, ever so perceptive of your actions, perked up.

"You have a meeting with the head of the Tenryou Commission later at noon, something about an agreement with regards to your relation with his daughter." You did not bother to face him to give him the reminder, opting to walk away once you finished your sentence.

The Yashiro Commissioner's face fell as he watched you leave the room, his heart still heavy, and his mind cursing at him for not having the guts to talk to you properly.

…

The pain felt more real once he entered his room for the night.

The place has been wiped clean of your existence, the covers have been changed so not even your scent lingered, some of the clothes you kept in his closet are gone, the vase of flowers you like to decorate his nightstand with is gone…

The framed picture of the two of you that sat on his nightstand is gone…

It felt suffocating…

With a sigh, Ayato closed the door, not wanting to see such a sad space, he instead went back to his office.

As he sat on his chair, he opened one of the drawers of his desk…

A smiled couldn't help but form on his face, a bittersweet one, when he saw the picture of you that he kept there a long time ago.

He laid his head on his arms on the desk, your picture next to his face. He figures that it was the only way he can sleep without feeling the suffocating emptiness of his room weighing upon him.

…

Today is the day the festival you were so excited about starts, and it's already been arranged for quite a while that today is your day-off. "…Y/N was really hoping that I'd join her at the festival." Half of

Thoma's words were muffled, but he could make out your name and the festival.

The blond retainer was asking for a day-off as well, to go with you.

Something uncomfortable boiled in Ayato's core, you asked him to join you back then, and he said that he couldn't. Yet, all he wishes now was to accompany you, to be by your side and not have to think about keeping your relationship a secret.

"With Y/N…?" Ayato asked, his voice laced with disappointment that did not escape his retainer's ears.

"Is something the matter, my Lord?"

Truly did his entire being want to disapprove of Thoma's request, he wants to go to you and offer to go with you himself.

"No, I'm quite alright, Thoma…" The Yashiro Commissioner heaved a sigh. "I'll allow your request."

You spent your day at the festival with Thoma, and it was obvious that you enjoyed it given the large smile that was plastered when you got back to the estate.

Meanwhile, Ayato spent his day at his desk, looking at meaningless paperwork while dreaming of being hand-in-hand with you at the festival, imagining that you would eat your heart out with all the streetfood available, watch the firework show when nighttime falls, and dance slowly at the festival music at midnight when everyone else already left.

That night though, he approaches you, his heart pounding when he caught your attention. "May I… ask you to sleep next to me again?"

He was tired, he could only take a week of sleeping in his office because his room haunted him too much. Unfortunately for him, he doesn't know how to even start explaining himself, doesn't know how to win you back, to say that he does choose you over any form of nobility that he has.

You smiled at him… emptily.

"I'm your servant, my lord. If you wish for me to, I will."

So you did, you slept next to him, he hugged you tightly, snuggling you up to his chest, yet you refused to hug back, to nuzzle in his embrace like you used to. You merely did as you were requested.

Ayato tried to ignore the tightening of his heart just before sleep and exhausted took over him.

But he couldn't ignore the chill he felt when he woke up hugging nothing. It's just as it should be, the servant listened to her lord, and now she left to do her other tasks.

It was crazy to hope a relationship like yours could work out. Kamisato Ayato felt a few tears fall from his eyes, now, he wished for you to stay.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Yo, it's 3am and I'm gonna sleep now.

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 5

in which spencer reid and fem!reader are reunited, but the worst kind of sparks are flying. you meet a man named randall. derek morgan buys you a drink (sort of). it seems that some things can't be unsaid.

series masterlist

this series is 18+ warnings/tags: r goes to a bar but doesn't drink alcohol, gets hit on by weird men, dramatic, angst, sorry in advance a/n: surprise! i'll see myself out. love you! lmk your thoughts on this bad boy! i KNOW you'll have some! i'm locking all my doors and the cops are on speed dial after posting this. stay tuned for part six tho

You don’t call Spencer for four days. 

Spencer doesn’t call you for four days. 

It’s scary. 

There’s some texting—mostly him giving you updates on how things are going and when he expects to be back. Mostly you giving the messages a thumbs up and saying nothing else. 

Finally, on Thursday afternoon, his ringtone (the Bill Nye theme) makes you jump as you’re sitting on your bed staring into space. 

His caller ID photo—which is simply his passport photo, because you’d thought it was adorable—stares at you. You stare back. Contemplate not picking up. 

But you’re not quite there yet. 

And you cannot keep listening to Bill Nye the Science Guy. 

The answer button is cold under your thumb, but not as cold as your greeting. 

“Hi.”

You barely recognize your own voice. 

It seems to send Spencer for a loop as well, because his reply is halting. 

“Hey! Hi, um—how are you? I feel like we’ve barely talked this week.”

That would be because you told me my feelings for you are stronger than your feelings for me and I don’t know how to stop making every single word I say secretly mean I love you. We can’t have a conversation without me loving you. It will always be in the room or on the phone with us. To ignore the presence of it is impossible, and I don’t know if I can ignore the absence of yours, either. 

“Uh… yeah. I’m fine. What’s up?”

There’s a pause. 

“We wrapped up this morning. We’re getting on the jet here in a few minutes, and, um—I know it’s not ideal, but we missed Derek’s birthday and Penelope is insisting we all go to his favorite bar tonight. And he told me that for his birthday he wants to meet you. So… would you be up for that?”

“You want… to take me to a bar?”

“No. I mean—I know it’s not really your thing, but we missed Derek’s birthday three years in a row, and—and I understand if you don’t want to meet him tonight, but we wouldn’t have to stay very long and I really, really shouldn’t skip it. Derek has saved my life on more than one occasion.”

“You could go without me.”

More silence. Every second hurts, but you don’t understand why he wants you to come meet his best friend if he thinks the two of you are in different places emotionally. 

But maybe he’s not going to break up with you just yet. Maybe he’s going to keep inviting you to bars and foreign film festivals and bookshops. Maybe he’s going to treat you exactly the same as he always has but with this new added layer of knowledge that the way he treats you isn’t actually love, and it never was, and you’re not sure if it has the potential to ever become love. Because if it did—wouldn’t it have already? What more do you have to offer than what you’ve already given him?

Breakup or no breakup, you feel sick. 

When he speaks his tone is similarly chilly. It’s welcome. You want him mad. If he can’t reciprocate your adoration, then the very least he can do is have the decency to reciprocate your reproach. 

“I could. Is that what you want?”

No. I don’t want any of this. I need you to know me well enough to know that. And if you can’t love me then at least get angry. At least show me you feel something other than passive contentment. 

“Yeah. Sure. I don’t know.”

A pause stretches so long your heart pounds. You watch the elapsed time of the call tick by, second by second, and you wait for the anticipation to crack under the weight of silence, to give way to some terrible jump scare or to give way at all. 

But the words that end the conversation (if you can even call it that) aren’t any great relief. They’re just sad, and chalk full of defeat. 

“Alright. I’ll… I’ll call you later.”

You feel like you’ve swallowed an ice cube. All the words you’d like to say are frozen in your stinging throat. 

“Okay. Um… I’ll let you board now.”

“The jet’s not…” but he trails off. When he speaks again he sounds just as hurt as you’d wanted—and it doesn’t make you feel better at all. “Okay. Bye.”

“Bye.”

The line goes dead, and your face is burning as tears fill your eyes for the hundredth time this week. That call was terrible and poisonous and you don’t feel like yourself. 

Things have gone so wrong so quickly, and all you know how to do is ice him out so he can’t do it to you first. But it’s not going to make this better. No matter how mean you are to him, at the root of it all you feel unloved and scared and alone and Spencer knows things about love and relationships that you don’t. He’s confusing you with all this talk of feeling differently about each other and I’ll be home tomorrow I miss you and things get complicated when one person likes the other more and let’s talk in person and will you come meet my best friend tonight. All of it leaves you motion sick and ugly crying in the fetal position. 

All you have to get through this is who you’ve always been, a little of the person you’ve become, and the love you harbor for Spencer which rattles around in your chest like a nail in an empty toolbox. At the moment it hardly seems helpful. It mocks you, pointing out the pathetic hilarity of your paradox. The only person who can comfort you, the person you want more than anything, is the reason you’re so upset in the first place. But you can’t help being drawn to him. 

Maybe the love you have for Spencer is more like a magnet in a compass. 

Even if he doesn’t feel it for you, you do love Spencer. And that goes beyond just loving the parts of him that like you. To hide from that love would be a gross disservice to yourself and all the work you’ve done to get here. It’s not as if you suddenly know exactly what the answer is—but you’re sure that hiding is the most childish, cowardly thing you could do and the furthest you could get from a resolution. Even if you can’t make him love you back, you refuse to allow yourself to fizzle quietly out of his life. This relationship deserves something more than that. 

So maybe you don’t have a plan when you wipe your eyes and pick up your phone. Maybe there’s no strategy behind your actions as you text Garcia for the bar location. But if you keep running from everything you’ll never get anywhere. All you can do is show up. It seems like the next best step. 

------

The pub isn’t too crowded—but for a Thursday night, you suppose it’s a bit busy. 

Boot heels hooked onto the metal foot-beam of the stool you’re sitting on, elbows resting on the polished mahogany surface of the bar, you’re staring into an untouched mixed drink. Then you glance down the bar to your right, at the man who’d bought it for you. 

Maybe your ensemble gave him the wrong idea. 

Coming to this gathering had required bravery, and you came armored. Your ensemble projects significantly more confidence than you’re currently feeling. It was intentional, a form of self-protection—but now you’re wondering if it’s projecting a little too much confidence. 

All done up, clearly still a little rough around the edges, and sitting alone at a bar was bound to draw the wrong pairs of eyes. 

“Hey, darlin’,” the gruff man says, approaching when you inadvertently catch his gaze. “Are you gonna drink that, or should I? Otherwise I’m lookin’ at eleven dollars right down the drain.”

You avert your eyes, scanning the groups dotted here and there. 

“I’m waiting for friends.”

“Does that make a free drink less appealing?”

He takes the stool next to you, off-gassing the scent of cigarettes and leather. 

“I’m not drinking.”

“Really? I’ve never seen a girl who looks as sad as you do come sit at the bar to stay sober.”

You frown, looking back up at the man next to you. He seems like the Hell’s Angels type—tattooed knuckles, leather jacket, grey beard, and a weathered face that’s clearly spent decades with the sun. Fifties, maybe younger and just looks more rugged. What does it say about how I look tonight that this is the kind of man I’m attracting, you wonder. Maybe you look desperate and just as lonely as you feel. As he claims you do. 

“I’m not sad.”

“Alright. I’ll take your word for it. But a happier girl wouldn’t be all alone.”

“I’m waiting for friends,” you repeat, letting the words drip like venom from your tongue. 

“I’m Randall. See? Now we're friends.”

“I don’t need more friends. I like the ones I have.”

Something catches Randall’s attention long enough to catch yours. He raises his bottle vaguely, gesturing beyond your shoulder. 

“Are those angry lookin’ guys in the suits marching right over here the friends you’re talking about?”

You turn your head, brows furrowed, and immediately see the gentlemen to whom your new pal is pointing out. 

Spencer is storming across the bar looking close to furious (which for him, means an expression so placid it gives you chills) followed by Derek Morgan—a man who you’ve only seen pictures of and is even more impressive in person. 

You hate how your breath catches, how your heart is already beating a little faster than usual at the sight of him even though you’re not exactly pleased with each other right now. 

Suddenly the bubbles in your cocktail are once again fascinating.

“Those are the ones.”

“And why are they dressed for church?”

Church?

“They’re FBI.”

“Ah. My lucky fuckin’ day.”

You almost snort. 

“Hey,” Spencer says sternly, hand settling on your back as he partially fills the small space between you and the strange man. “Who’s this?”

You shrug, sit up a little straighter, and take a shallow breath—not because you’re scared of this man but because Spencer is suddenly so close to you and you can feel his warmth and the air bending around him and the scent of him is genuinely dizzying to you. 

“Randall,” you exhale unenthusiastically. But the odd thing is that you’re rather grateful for Randall’s presence. Because now Spencer is here and you have no idea what you’re going to say to him. 

“Oh,” Randall says, sipping his beer unhurriedly before using it to gesture to Spencer. “You’re the boyfriend. You know, that’s funny, because she didn’t mention a boyfriend.”

“I didn’t mention anything. We weren’t having a real conversation.”

Randy holds his hands up defensively, fingers still wrapped around the neck of a sweating bottle. 

“I’m just saying it’s in-ter-esting. Not trying to start anything.” He stands, pauses for another sip—Spencer obviously isn’t sure what to make of this man because he says nothing. “But listen, man to man—you better buy her some flowers or a real pretty fuckin’ necklace or somethin’ because a happy girl in a happy relationship does not come pout at the bar all by herself.”

“Get out of here, man,” Derek finally speaks up. 

“Yeah, yeah.” He sets his empty bottle down and fishes in his pocket for a cigarette, sticking it between his lips. “But—just for the record—I have a wife. I wasn’t gonna do anything weird. Sometimes when you’re my age you just gotta live a little. Buy a pretty girl a drink. Piss off some Mormons, or whatever the fuck you are.”

This guy sounds like a bad Bruce Springsteen song. But part of you would almost rather hang out with Randall than be forced into a conversation you’re not prepared for with Spencer. 

And whose fault is that, you remind yourself. You decided to come be mature. Suck it up. 

“Goodnight,” Derek emphasizes. 

Spencer doesn’t say a word. You can feel his eyes boring smoking holes into the side of your face, and you look anywhere else.  

“I’ll be here next week after physical therapy like clockwork,” the stranger waves as he ambles away—but not before pointing at you. “You enjoy that drink, friend. And don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

What a weird man. 

There’s silence for a moment—in which Spencer refuses to stop watching you and you refuse to acknowledge that. 

“And here I was thinking Spencer made you up.” Derek has a beautiful smile and a warm, charming cadence as he holds out his hand for you to shake. “I’m Derek.”

You take the proffered hand and shake, offering him a shy smile and introducing yourself in kind. 

“Happy birthday, by the way. Sorry for crashing your party.”

Really, he’s stunning. 

“Thank you, sweetheart. And you’re not crashing anything. I told pretty boy here I wanted to meet you the second he started talking about a friend. But nah, he just wanted to talk and talk and talk about you—” 

“Alright,” Spencer mumbles, blushing, eyes finally torn from your profile. You smile slightly, brows knitting as Derek magically melts some of the terrible tension.

“Pretty boy?”

Before either of them can explain, someone shrieks in your general direction. You startle backward in your seat, and Spencer steps closer, hand sliding up your back as Penelope, JJ, and Emily join your little huddle. For only a second you allow yourself to shrink into him—before you’re straightening your posture like your spine is a metal rod and his touch burns. It’s a knee-jerk defensive reaction for which you have no explanation. You can’t see him, but you don’t feel his hand on you again. 

“Oh my god! Look at this beautiful person who I love!” Penelope exclaims, pushing past Derek to grab your face and kiss both of your cheeks. “Oh my god,” she says again, wiping sticky lipgloss away with her thumbs, “I totally meant to ask before I did that. But your face is just so kissable. I’m so glad you decided to come!”

“Hi, Penelope,” you smile half-heartedly, incapable of reciprocating her cheery mood. Fortunately, she’s cheery enough for a standard commercial flight’s worth of people, and probably thinks of Derek’s birthday as a national holiday—so she doesn’t pick up on this. 

Emily and JJ offer you tamer although perfectly kind greetings. 

“Ooh, what are you drinking?” Emily asks, leaning closer to examine the forgotten beverage in front of you. 

“Not that,” Spencer mutters, grabbing the glass and sliding it away from you. You give him an affronted look—and immediately wish you hadn’t, since you’re meeting his eyes for the first time since he left. His words stall for just a moment as his eyes dart between yours before he’s saying, “you shouldn’t accept a drink if you didn’t watch someone make it.”

The audacity of him to be acting protective makes you scoff. 

“That guy didn’t spike my drink. He was harmless.”

“People thought Ted Bundy was harmless, too.”

It’s such a ridiculous thing to say that you don’t even have a response—your eyes simply narrow and you shake your head. A claustrophobic silence falls over the small group. 

“Okay…” JJ murmurs. “Um, do you guys want to go check out the jukebox with me? We have to play all of the birthday boy’s favorites.”

Several enthusiastic yeses go around, but you’re too busy having a stand off with your boyfriend to take much notice. 

Soon, it’s just the two of you. 

“Controlling isn’t a good look for you,” you finally say, spinning to rest your elbows on the bar once more and studying the bottles of liquor on the shelves beyond. 

“Evasive and avoidant isn’t particularly flattering, either. I was under the impression that you had no intention of coming after that phone call earlier.” 

You scoff again as your blood heats. Already the conversation is going worse than you’d expected—and your expectations were not high. 

“Do you think the cab driver was a serial killer, too? Or maybe the bartender?”

He’s still behind you and slightly to the side—but he leans down, resting his own fists on the bar right next to you and speaking lowly, directly over your shoulder. 

“Why don’t you try speaking to me like we’re adults instead of starting meaningless arguments in order to get under my skin?”

From him, that hurts. 

It’s a branch on the tree of your greatest insecurity—the fear that you’re too inexperienced with relationships and that makes you too immature and he’s been lying every time he says it’s not an issue. Because of course it’s an issue. It’s why you fell in love with him, it’s why you don’t know how to fix it, and it’s why you’re incapable of actually expressing any of your feelings to him.

“Why do you think I’m here right now?” you whisper—as sharp and stinging as a poison dart. “I’m trying to be a fucking adult. I don’t want to be here.”

Silence. 

“Then why did you come?”

His voice is so calm it burns like dry ice. 

“Because! Because you asked me to, because—”

You can’t bring yourself to say it aloud. 

Because I’m obviously still in love with you and I can’t just turn that off. I tried to do the right thing. 

Instead you bury your face in your hands and let it hang in the air, unspoken. You know he knows. You just don’t know why he’s acting like you’re so unreasonable for being upset. 

“Let me make this very clear to you,” Spencer murmurs, brushing your hair away from your ear so tenderly, speaking so softly you could convince yourself that he’ll say something kind. It’s the closest he’s been in days and now that he’s here you feel how much you missed him in your bones. And even though you sense a trap, you can’t help but sit up straighter. You’ll be complicit in your own undoing if it means you can have him close. His breath shakes slightly as he inhales and you brace as best you can. “Nobody is forcing you to be here. You told me you weren’t coming and then you decided to show up. I was ready to give you the space that you were too scared to ask me for. But I can only take responsibility for so much of what is ultimately your bad behavior and your adolescent volatility. You can only blame so much of your bad behavior on inexperience before I run out of patience because I don’t find thoughtlessness and emotional immaturity compelling. I told you that if there is a disparity in the way we feel for each other, that was fine, and I meant it. But if you can’t cope with how I feel about you then don’t let me hold you back. I am not holding you hostage. You can leave whenever you want. So don’t waste your time punishing me because you don’t want to be here. And if you do want to be here, good. I want that too. But act like an adult and make a decision. My leniency has limits, even for you. I am asking that you do not push it any further than you already have.”

You don’t know how long it’s been since your last breath by the time he finishes his address.

Long enough that you’re dizzy when you push away from the bar and shoulder through the throng of patrons as quickly as you reasonably can without outright running. 

Long enough that when you burst out the door into the biting-cold night air, and finally take a deep, gasping breath, it burns and stings and aches and so does your head and your eyes as they well with hot, furious, heartbroken tears. 

You speed-walk to the end of the block, hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your cries and all the curse words you’d love to scream. 

Part of you knows you walked away from the bar in case he decided to try and follow you—but when you look over your shoulder the sidewalk is empty. You should’ve known better than to think he’d follow you after that. But at least it means you can have your breakdown by the relative safety of the bar, leaning your back against the dirty brick facade next to the entrance alcove and sliding down until your butt hits the cold concrete and you don’t even care. 

Who the fuck was that man in the bar who looked like Spencer and sounded like Spencer but spoke to you like this is all your fault, like it’s your fault you love him and he doesn’t love you back, like it’s ridiculous that you’d be upset, like you’re cruel and petty for having feelings about it, about him—for having any fucking feelings at all? And to think that was the man who you let know you more intimately than anyone ever has. Every insecurity you’d ever admitted to him was hurled back in your face like it was nothing. Hell—he even handed you the ones you’d never mentioned. He proved every terrible thought you’ve been having about yourself right. 

How could he be so unabashedly mean to you?

Spencer doesn’t have to love you. It seems clearer now than ever that he doesn’t. But part of you wonders if he suffered some sort of traumatic brain injury because that’s the only explanation for why he could go from treating you how he did before to treating you like he doesn’t even like you. 

You feel like you might throw up. 

“Called it,” a rasping, grumbling voice says from a few feet away. 

You look up, and spot fucking Randall standing under a street light ten feet away, still smoking. 

You go back to studying the tar spots on the sidewalk through bleary eyes. Pebbles sting as they press into your palms. Another one of the universe’s terrible jokes, you suppose. Just earlier you’d thought that you’d rather talk to Randall than Spencer and now here you are and here he is. 

“That kid as much of a dipshit punk as I thought he was?”

Hearing Spencer described as a kid and a dipshit punk is so jarring you almost stop crying. 

“He’s not a dipshit,” you sniff, voice thick with tears as you find yourself explaining Spencer Reid to this stranger for no reason at all. “He has an IQ of 187. He’s a genius.”

“Ah,” he scoffs dismissively, flicking ash from his cigarette. “Dipshit-ism don’t discriminate. Anyone can be one. Even your genius punk boyfriend. As a recovering dipshit myself I know what the work of a fellow dipshit looks like. And this has dipshit written all over it.”

You sob harder. 

Randall speaks calmly around his cigarette. 

“You know, I’m sorry for whatever you got goin’ on. But I’ve never not been the asshole when I got a hysterical woman in front of me. It’s nice that I can confidently say this time it is not my fault.”

The bar door opens, letting a warm burst of jovial music and chatter into the otherwise still night. Steps that are too heavy to be Spencer’s hit the concrete next to you—you look to your left and see Derek Morgan before he looks down and sees you. 

“Hey—you okay out here?”

“Why don’t you go ask your Jehovah’s Witness buddy? He did this.”

Derek makes a face, locating the source of this interjection. 

“Sir, I asked you to leave her alone once and I don’t appreciate being made to repeat myself. Are we clear?”

“Yeah, whatever. Fuck me for making friendly conversation, I guess. Gonna have to call my wife and tell her to pick me up down the street. I don’t want her on the damn phone while she’s driving.”

Randall wanders away again, still muttering to himself and smoking. Derek watches him go, staring daggers into his back until he turns his gaze to you. 

Goodbye, Randall, you think. Great. Now I have neither of them. 

“Hey,” he softens, crouching down to your level. “You okay?”

You sniff, wiping your cheeks and attempting not to smudge your makeup. It’s impossible not to feel awkward—you just met this guy and now he’s here trying to do emotional labor for you on his birthday. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. This is embarrassing.”

“You don’t look fine. Can I do anything for you? Do you want some food? A drink?”

“You really don’t have to—”

“I know, I know. But look—Reid is always talking about you. You’re important to him, and he’s important to me. I’ve never seen him this happy and I’ve known that kid a long time. It is in my best interest that someone maintain you, and if it’s not him, it’ll be me. Call it a favor to him, if that makes you feel better.” Derek is sporting a slightly more modest Cheshire grin again by the end of his sentence. Listening to him speak that way about Spencer speaking about you, it’s impossible not to feel a teeny bit lighter. Even if you’re not entirely sure where you stand on all things Spencer related at the moment. “So I’ll ask you again. Is there anything I can do for you?”

You sniff again. 

“Sure. A ginger ale or something might be good.”

“Got it. I’ll be back. And come inside if Randall tries to run up on you again, okay?”

Despite yourself you manage a laugh at the way he says the name. His warm smile flickers warmer at this.  

“Will do.”

When Derek returns a few minutes later, the plastic cup he’s holding looks decidedly not like ginger ale. 

“Penelope insisted that this is what you would want. I don’t even know.”

You smile slightly as you take the cup, full to the brim with bubbles and thick red syrup. A cherry bobs underneath the layer of cubed ice. 

“Shirley temple,” you chuckle. “I’ll take it. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” he says, flashing that brilliant smile again, and you look into your cup as you drink. Maybe your face warms just a bit. You’re still shy around men, you realize. Especially attractive ones. And Derek Morgan definitely qualifies as attractive. 

“So,” he begins, and to your surprise, crouches down in front of you. “I have to be honest—I came out here in the first place because Reid sent me to check on you. But now I’m wondering what the hell he did.”

Spencer sent him. A considerate action that would theoretically signal his care for your feelings. You take another sip, staring into space and trying to digest this information, but it only jumbles with the rest to confuse you more. 

Of course, you don’t know how to convey this to Derek in a way that’s not overly-familiar for just having met the man, so you go with an old standby. 

“I’m probably just overreacting.”

“Uh-huh. I have sisters. I know what an overreaction looks like and if you were overreacting you wouldn’t be out here hiding. What’d he do?”

You can only keep up the facade of emotional stability for so long. Your chin wobbles in a horribly embarrassing way and you look down again. 

“I’m not sure—I’m not sure if he really did anything or if I’m just being dramatic and I don’t want to make him seem—”

“Why don’t you stop defending him and just tell me what he did?” Derek urges. “Trust me—I love that kid to death. But I also know he can be a dick sometimes. You don’t need to worry about making him look bad in front of me.”

Part of you is glad Spencer has such a good friend on his side. And Derek is right—Spencer is an adult. You don’t need to worry about besmirching his reputation. So you take a shuddering sigh, staring into the red of your drink. 

“He just doesn’t like me as much as I like him. Which isn’t his fault, like I said, but—he’s being such an asshole about it.”

Derek pulls a face, strong eyebrows making an impression as they knit.  

“Did he tell you that?”

“Over the phone,” you nod emphatically. “And just now he gave me this whole fucking speech about how immature and horrible I am for not being 100% happy about it. And maybe he’s partially right, I mean—I know people feel things differently and maybe he just was asking for more time. I worry I fucked it up so bad because I couldn’t handle that—but at the same time he didn’t say he wanted more time. He was really fucking unclear and vague about what he wanted, and he asked me to come to this bar like it was nothing when I’ve been worried he was going to break up with me all week. So yeah, I guess he’s right and I have been a bitch about it because I was upset that he didn’t… like me as much. And I wanted him to feel bad because I was so embarrassed, and I also didn’t want to act like everything was normal if he was just going to dump me, I…” you realize you’ve been hardcore rambling and your face heats. “I don’t know.”

There’s a pause, and you worry you’ve done exactly the thing you didn’t want to, which was overshare to this man who seems like he’s significantly more normal and well-adjusted than you. You drink deeply, swallowing sugar and the rest of your words. 

“That’s… bizarre. I don’t mean to invalidate your feelings, but… that just doesn’t make any sense.”

“Yeah,” you scoff, projecting annoyance so you won’t start crying again. “I was confused too. I thought he really liked me.”

“No, sweetheart, I’m saying—that doesn’t make sense because he does really like you. Really, really likes you, more than I’ve ever seen him like someone before. I mean, last week I finally finished that Tesla biography he’s been on my ass about for months and when I told him, all he wanted to do was talk about your thoughts on it. And then it wasn’t even about the book anymore. I have never, ever seen Reid pass up an opportunity to talk about Nikola Tesla. I’m talking never in my life. He finds a way to make every conversation about you. I can’t even follow the connections sometimes but he always finds a way.”

Your nose wrinkles. 

“Sorry you’ve had to hear so much about me,” you mumble. Though you’re not really sorry. It feels good. A twinge of joy in all the murk. 

“I’m not. Like I said, I’ve known Spencer for a long time and I’ve never seen him this happy. I’m not about to let him fuck it up.”

“If I make him so happy then why did he tell me we don’t feel the same?” you whisper, reaching into the puddle of syrup and ice at the bottom of your now empty cup. 

“Is that exactly what he said?” Derek asks, after a long pause. You bite the maraschino cherry off the stem and nod morosely, grinding a long-gone stranger’s cigarette butt with your boot just to crush something. There’s another beat of silence. “Alright. You know what I think?”

You raise your head to meet his gaze, your own wide-eyed and expectant. 

“I think you two need to have an honest conversation. You’re both confused and hurting—I promise Spencer is feeling it too. If you talk to him he won’t be unkind to you.”

“He already was,” you admit. 

“I apologize if I’m out of line here, but you just told me you’ve been icing him out all week because you want him to feel bad. I’m willing to bet you don’t realize how sharp these claws are.” Derek grabs your hand as he says it and you marvel at how much he is the opposite of you. Everything he does and says seems so natural and reasonable and charming even if it would piss you off from anyone else—and you just met the guy. You can see why Spencer and Penelope speak so highly of him. “I think you’ve probably both had your moments these past few days. But that doesn’t mean neither of you deserve any more chances.”

He puts your hand back on your knee and pats it. 

“Besides, Spencer‘s not good at mean. I bet he’s inside worrying himself sick over whatever dumb shit he said to you. He’s probably hyperventilating as we speak.”

“It was really out of character for him,” you concede. 

“Yeah. He’ll be apologizing for a long while. It will get annoying. But he sure as hell won’t be doing it again, I can tell you that much. If he does, let me know. Emily and I will whoop his ass and call it a fitness evaluation.”

“I think that’ll be unnecessary,” you laugh thickly, pulling your sleeve over your hand and wiping away the few tears that haven’t quite dried. “But thank you.”

“Anytime. Now, it’s my birthday, and as a grown man I should not be getting involved in someone else’s relationship drama. I was supposed to be on the dance floor a while ago.” His tone is so warm and sugary by the time he finishes it could rot his perfect grin. It’s futile to hide the way your mouth twists into a reluctant smile as you look down and fix your hair—praying he can’t tell how fazed you are by his kindness. “You’re going to talk to him, right?”

“I’ll—yeah. Right,” you say quietly. But the sinking feeling in your stomach knows it’s a thing easier said than done. 

“Good,” Derek grunts, taking your empty cup before pushing himself back up to his feet and offering you a hand. “Do you want me to send him out here or do you want to come find him inside?”

You balk.

“Like—right now? I have to talk to him now?”

Before he can give you an answer you think you’d rather not have, the bar door is opening. From your spot you can’t see who it is right away, but Derek turns over his shoulder and does a double take before looking back at you. 

Spencer steps out onto the sidewalk, eyes scanning for until he realizes you’re a few feet shorter than usual. Sitting on a filthy public walkway is probably his worst nightmare, you realize, as you scramble to your feet and dust the crumbs of concrete from your palms against the back of your cold jeans. He begins to say your name, and it sounds like relief and regret, but you stop him. 

“I have to go wash my hands.”

It’s monotonous and mumbled and comes out too quickly but you don’t have time to worry about that as you brush past both of the men on your way back into the bar, making an immediate beeline for the bathroom. 

Your face burns with anxiety as you shut the door behind you, immediately drowning in the yellowish lighting which is so harsh but seems to illuminate almost nothing. Who paints a bathroom red? It’s suffocating. You feel like you’re inside an aorta. 

Water runs cool over your hands as you sniffle, rinsing the bits of dirt from red indents made by pebbles and things, and the soap is too floral and powdery but you wash twice anyway. Maybe you’ll just stay in here and wash your hands forever. 

There’s a light knock on the shiny wooden door and it makes you jump. Your name is muffled from the other side. 

“You in there?” 

Quickly you wipe under your reddened eyes in the mirror, trying to fix the slightly smudged makeup. 

The door opens when you don’t respond, and there’s Spencer, looking weary and tense all at once. Is that your fault?

“Hey,” you sniff, trying to effect casualness, but it comes out too quickly and your posture is too stiff. Under his all-seeing gaze you cross and uncross your arms, look at him and look away. Your hands end up in your pockets. He’d say crossed arms are a sign of self-soothing. 

“Hey.” His is more measured, and of course makes you feel embarrassed in comparison. The door swings shut behind him as he enters the small room and makes it feel that much smaller. “Are you… hiding from me in here?”

Yes. 

The graffitied toilet stalls to your left suddenly look fascinating. 

“Nope. Just washing my hands.”

This is not what Derek told you to do, you scold yourself internally. Stop being so scared. Be honest with him. 

Silence rings. All the brutally honest things you’d like to say choke you until your throat hurts and your eyes get hot. Yet again you feel like a stupid little girl who’s too emotional to communicate. 

You cross your arms. It’s an indulgence you feel you’re owed. 

Spencer says your name again and it’s too much. He never says it this often. When he does it feels good but now it’s too formal, makes you too aware of your own inadequacy, and how he must be seeing you—a wraith of a girl in a dingy bar bathroom with clammy hands and smudged eyeliner, practically shaking with fear under an unforgiving light. Someone who is too scared and much too sensitive. 

Spencer attempts to speak again. 

“What I said before, it was—”

“Can you just take me home?” 

It comes out on one exhalation and seems to stall him with all the effectiveness of a slap to the face. 

You don’t know where it comes from, either. 

Easier said than done, you’d thought a few moments ago. All the bravery Derek had tried to instill in you is gone, swallowed down the drain like soap scum. And now you’re choosing to let your fear win—because at least that’s a known quantity. The fear will never reject you. It will always be waiting with open arms. 

Too scared. 

The end feels imminent. You try to press yourself back together, fingernails biting into palms, trying to make something feel more tangible than the terrible knowingness that you’re careening toward an end which was supposed to be a beginning. It’s stifling and you wonder if Spencer is breathing it too. 

You can’t look at his face, but you watch him pocket his hands in his pants and there is so much impossible space between you in such a tiny room. 

“Yeah. I can.”

Something breaks. It’s small, and without fanfare. But it feels final. 

It’s just a ride home. Just a ride home. 

That’s all you have left, and you don’t know how you know it but you do. 

Something so important is being left in this stupid, dingy bathroom. Something that was at one point beautiful and shiny and so arrogant in its newness that it seemed it would never become ugly. And now you’re abandoning it without dignity on the chipped tile floor and in the cobwebs on the walls. It was bigger than you, it was you—and now it’s going to be nothing. 

A vehicle honks on the street. A boisterous group laugh explodes somewhere beyond the door. Water drips from a faucet. 

“I’ll… I’ll bring my car around.”

“Okay.”

But he just stands there for another moment. Like he can’t get himself to move. 

If only time would freeze before he could walk away. 

But it doesn’t. 

He sucks in a decisive breath. 

“Okay,” he murmurs. 

It’s that fucking phone call all over again. 

Then he spins on his heels and leaves you there.

Your time is up. 

-

part 5.5

[darklucielle]

Breaking her

StayC Isa x Manager POV

Tags: Gangbang, Degradation, Violence, Drugs, Masturbation

I got a call from by the High Up's CEO at his office. He said that he wanted to talk about Isa's attitude problem.

"Sir. I tried my best. I told her that her attitude affects everything in STAYC. She still didn't listen."

"I know you did your best. Maybe solving this problem in just talks is not the best way. I need to think if terminating her contract will solve the problem."

"Kicking her out of the group, sir?"

"Yeah. we don't have a choice. don't we? Isa is valueable asset in the group. Pretty and talented but her attitude now is not helping the group at all. She isn't like that before. Fame got her."

"I have a plan, sir. But first, I need your approval."

"You do? Well... I'm listening."

I told the CEO about my plan. I planned to take this further. Through violence and sexual humilation, Just to teach her a lesson. The CEO stayed silent for a while then nods.

"Alright. Do what you want. I'll make sure there will be no evidences of this."

"Thank you, Sir."

NEXT DAY

Another rehearsal for their upcoming fanconcert. They're working hard.... except her.

Sieun scolded her for being late then intentionally messing things up. They took a break right after. Isa went to the corner of the practice room and starts doing whatever she does on her phone.

That's it. That's the cue.

I went towards to her then grabbed her phone away from her hands. Before she can even react, A slap strikes her cheek. It was so loud that the rest of the STAYC members froze. They're shocked that I slapped her.

"WHAT THE FUCK!? HOW COULD YOU..."

Another slap. It made her fell down to the floor. I gripped tight her hair then keeps slapping her face. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six times a row.

The members are still stucked on their place. They don't dare to come and rescue their crying member.

"Look at me, You bitch." I snarled. Yanking down her hair then my other hand grips her face roughly to look at my eyes.

"I had enough of your bitchy attitude. Everyone had enough. Your members, staffs and even CEO. If you wanted to stay as an idol and member of STAYC, Accept your consequences and learn your damn lesson."

Without waiting for her answer, I pulled her up. Making her stand then dragged her out of the practice room.

"Arghh! Manager-nim! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" She pleads. She keeps sobbing hard as I dragged her out.

It's hard to drag a sobbing mess along the way but after a while, I finally arrived at the men's bathroom. I kicked the door open then pushed her down to the tile floor.

Pulled out a tape from my pocket then forcefully tapes her wrists together. Does the same on her ankles.

I pulled out my phone and called someone. Isa heard me calling for some people here. "Manager-nim! I'm so sorry, Truly I am! I promise to be good person now! I will practice along with the members! Please have mercy!"

"It's too late now. No one will come and save you here. Your members are too scared. You're on your own."

Moments later, Someone knocked the door. I opened it and five High Up male staffs went inside.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Yeah. I got a green light from the CEO. Do whatever you all want to her. That will teach her a lesson." I said.

"No! No! Please! Have mercy! Don't do this please! I swear I'll behave!"

Nods at them to start Isa's punishment. The sight of Isa being tied-up and helpless, Surely it turns them on. They all removed their pants and let their raging cocks loose. They walked towards to her like a bunch of hungry hyenas.

"No!! Please!! Stop! Stop!" She cried but still can't do anything to defend herself. Two guys went to tore her shirt to expose Isa's bare breasts. Not big nor small, Just perfect size for her body. These two guys are busy pinching her nipples roughly as they gave her delicate skin some bite marks.

Other two went tore her pants apart to expose her thighs. I guess they're too hunrgy for her. Last one went to her feet and sucking her toes. Obviously loving it.

Isa doesn't have a choice but to scream for help. Her voice became ragged from shouting. The first pair are now suckling her nipples.

"No... stop... stop biting my nipples.." her voice became weaker and weaker.

They bit and trying to pull it out. They did it many times before they went to forcefully kissed her lips. Isa doesn't want to as she keeps her mouth shut but the two men are too eager to taste her mouth.

As they succeed invading her mouth. They took turns of violating her mouth. They even licked her whole face. Making Isa feel disgusted.

Second pair decided to feast at her holes. First one went to devour Isa's wet cunt while the other one is busy at her ass.

The last one took advantage of the situation by using her feet to jerk off his cock.

The first pair stopped kissing her lips and proceeds to make her suck their cocks. She still resisting but the two are too determined to break her defenses.

Finally, they're able to fuck Isa's mouth. They're facefucking her like there's no tomorrow. Harsh and messy. Her saliva leaking from her mouth and drips down to her breasts. Creating a slimy mess on her own body. They took turns of abusing her mouth and throat. They don't care about her at all. They don't care about her as an Idol. To them, Isa is their fleshlight. Their cum dumpster.

The sounds of skin slapping skin and lewd noises from her own mouth fills the whole room.

The fourth guy who's busy eating her ass, starts putting his cock between Isa's thighs and maniacally thrusting it. The third guy puts two fingers inside Isa's tight virgin pussy and fingering her roughly.

The first pair decided that they should put their cocks inside her mouth at the same time. Surprisingly, it fits. Together, they fucked her mouth in that way.

Seeing Isa surrenders and just let these horny men do whatever they want to her body, makes this mission successful.

She's now broken, mess and violated. Surely she learned her lesson now, isn't she?

The third guy keeps fingering her pussy until Isa squirts. Her whole body twitches a lot.

"Damn! She squirts like a fountain!"

"Please.... no... more...." her voice muffled because of the two cocks thrusting inside her mouth.

The last guy keeps using her feet as his fleshlight until he came a lot. The first pair simutaneously shoots cum in her mouth. The overwhelming amount and taste makes Isa gagged but she doesn't have a choice but to swallow it.

The second pair forced their cocks into her wet cunt and tight butthole. It made her scream out loud but still ragged. It took them a while before theit entire length pushed inside of her. They started to thrust hard and deep.

The sensation of two cocks tearing her inside apart, filling her up and simutaneously violating her surely it's too much for her to handle. All she can do is to cry and beg.

It didn't take long until they filled her insides. I looked at my watch and it took over an hour to finish.

"Gentlemen. This needs to be finished by a golden shower."

They nodded in unison. They proceed to piss Isa's face and body. Degrading her to the lowest point.

To these men, they're all spent but overly satisfied. The idol that they used to admire, now a weeping mess on the bathroom's floor. Clothes torned apart, Her face and body are forcefully used for sexual desires, Her dignity is broken, Her precious virginity is now lost. She's coated by a mixture of sweat, saliva, piss, blood and cum.

But my job is not done. I pulled out my phone and turns the phone camera to her. I pulled her up by her hair.

"Wake the fuck up, Bitch. Answer my questions. Understood?"

She weakly nodded. "Yes....."

"Tell me your name. Your full real name."

"Lee.... Chae-young..."

"Why are you here and suffering?"

"Because..... I was rude.. to everyone. It's all... my fault... I deserved... this..."

"What lesson did you earn from your punishment?"

"Not to be... rude to everyone... I'll be... behave and helping the... group more...."

"This won't be the last time, Isa. Get ready."

FEW DAYS LATER

After the successful fanconcert. They all went to their dorms except her. I told her to follow me to the vocal rooms where I pushed her to enter.

"Why are we here, manager-nim?"

"Strip off your clothes. Everything. Everyone is watching you." Points at the web camera of the PC.

It didn't take long until she's all bare naked. I pulled out a syringe and a small vial of the strongest aphrodisiac. Immediately shots at her forearm.

It didn't take long until she got the effect of the aphrodisiac. She felt hot and horny as she starts touching herself infront of the camera. I pulled out some sex toys for her to use.

Behind the web camera, The people watching her pleasuring herself is the CEO, Executives, Shareholders and even CEOs from the other companies.

They all watched how an seemingly innocent idol turned into a slut.

The members of STAYC swore that they will be quiet about Isa getting sexually abused. The Isa that they used to know is back and they're happy about it.

-End-

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, in every time ࿐‧₊ 2023 - nothing matters but you

chapter summary: The remaining X-Men come up with a plan to change their present; send Logan back in time to change the past.

word count: 17.1k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: oooohhhh boy!! i've been waiting for this chapter for so long and it's finally here! i'll have more to say at the end, but for now, and i truly mean it, enjoy!!! <3

warnings/tags: takes place during 'days of future past', dofp!logan, light miscommunication, angst, light violence, blood, character death, fluff, memory loss, happy ending!

series masterlist - chapter 10

The Blackbird landed on the top of the large mountain in front of a monastery. Ororo walked out first, followed by Logan, who paused at the bottom of the stairs to light his cigar, Charles, whose chair hovered down the stairs, and Erik.

They walked to the front of the monastery as Bobby spoke, “Professor.”

Ororo smiled, “Bobby.”

“Hey, Storm,” he replied, giving the woman a hug.

“Hey, kid.” Logan said.

“Professor,” Kitty called out. “You made it.”

The group made their way inside as Kitty explained how the group had been surviving, “Warpath spots them, and I send Bishop back to warn us of the attack before it happens. Blink scouts the next site, and… well, we leave before they ever know we were there.”

“Because we never were.” Bishop said.

“But what do you mean, you were never there?” Logan asked.

Charles looked over at Logan, “she projects Bishop back in time a few days to warn the others of the coming attack.”

“So she sends Bishop back in time?”

“No, just his consciousness into his younger self, his younger body.” Charles clarified.

“Wow.” Logan muttered.

“This might just work, Charles.” Erik commented.

“What might work?” Kitty questioned.

“The Sentinel program was originally conceived by Dr. Bolivar Trask. In the early ‘70s, he was one of the world’s leading weapons designers, but covertly, he had begun experimenting on mutants, using their gifts to fuel his own research. There was one mutant who had discovered what he was doing.” Charles explained.

“A mutant with the ability to transform herself into anyone.” Erik added.

“Mystique,” Peter said.

“I knew her as Raven. We met when we were children. Grew up together. She was like a sister to me. I tried to help her, but only succeeded in driving her away. She hunted Trask across the world, and at the Paris Peace Accords in 1973, after the Vietnam War, she found Trask. And killed him. It was the first time she killed.”

“It wasn’t her last.” Logan added on.

“But killing Trask did not have the outcome she expected. It only persuaded the government of the need for his program. They captured her that day. Tortured her. Experimented on her. In her DNA, they discovered the secrets to her powers of transformation. It gave them the key they needed to create weapons that could adapt to any mutant power, and in less than 50 years, the machines that have destroyed so many of our kind were created. But it all started that day in 1973, the day she first killed, the day she truly became… Mystique.” Charles finished.

“You want to go back there,” Kitty said.

“If I can get to her, stop the assassination, keep her out of their hands, then we can stop the Sentinels from ever being born.”

“And end this war before it ever begins.” Erik spoke.

“I-I can send someone back a couple weeks. I mean, maybe a month, but you’re talking about going back decades. You have the most powerful brain in the world, Professor, but the mind can only stretch so far before it snaps. It would rip you apart. I’m sorry. No one could survive that trip.” Kitty remarked.

“What if someone’s mind has a way of snapping back?” Logan asked. “What if someone can heal as fast as they’re ripped apart?”

---

Logan stood by the table as Charles, Erik, Kitty, and Bobby stood nearby, the rest outside of the monastery keeping watch.

“So I wake up in my younger body, God knows where. Then what?”

“You’ll need to go to my house and find me. Convince me of all of this.” Charles moved closer to Logan.

“Won’t you be able to just read my mind?”

“I didn’t have my powers in 1973. Logan, you’re going to have to do for me what I once did for you. Lead me, guide me. I was a very different man then. You’ll have to be patient with me.”

Logan scoffed, “patience isn’t my strongest suit.”

“You’ll need me as well,” Erik spoke up.

“What?” Logan turned to face Erik behind him.

“After Mystique left Charles, she came with me, and I set her on a dangerous path. Darker path. It’s going to take the two of us, side by side at a time when we couldn’t be further apart.”

Logan looked at Charles who nodded in affirmation, “great,” he muttered to himself. “So, where do I find you?”

“Well, it’s complicated.” Erik said, as Logan shook his head and stopped himself from rolling his eyes.

Logan got onto the table and lied down, Kitty sitting at the head of the table, “basically, your body will go to sleep while your mind travels back in time. Now, as long as you’re back there, past and present will continue to coexist, but once you wake up… whatever you’ve done will take hold and become history. And for the rest of us it’ll be the only history that we know. It’ll be like the last 50 years never happened. And this world, and this war… the only person who will remember it is you.” Kitty took a breath, “all right, Logan, I need you to clear your head and to stay as calm possible.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“If your mind gets rocky, it’ll be harder for me to hold you, and you could start to slip between past and future.”

“What if I need to get a little rocky?”

Kitty lightly shook her head, “think peaceful thoughts?”

“Peaceful thoughts.” Logan repeated. “You have any good news?”

“Well, I mean, you don’t really age, so you’ll pretty much look the same.”

Bobby spoke up, “you won’t have much time in the past. The Sentinels will find us. They always do.”

“And this time, we won’t be able to run. We’ll have no escape. This is our last chance.” Kitty’s hands hovered near the sides of Logan’s head.

“See you all soon.” Logan said.

“This might sting a little.”

---

Logan blinked, his vision adjusting to the dim, warm glow of the lava lamp. Its lazy, hypnotic bubbles drifted in the liquid, but his mind was racing to catch up. The sharp, immediate transition from the future to… this—the past, his past—had his senses momentarily disoriented.

The pressure against his neck snapped him into focus. An arm was draped over his shoulder from behind, soft, warm, and familiar. He shifted his head just enough to glance at the hand resting on his chest. It was delicate, but the grip was firm, like whoever it belonged to had no intention of letting him go.

“Mornin’,” your voice came from behind him, groggy and soft. Your tone was laced with the remnants of sleep but carried the easy, teasing warmth that always seemed to put him off guard.

His heart clenched. You.

You leaned into him slightly, pressing your cheek against his shoulder as you stretched, entirely unaware of the whirlwind in his head. The past, your face, the other you. The fact that he hadn’t seen this version of you in nearly 50 years.

“Didn’t think I’d need to pry you out of bed first,” you teased lightly, your hand giving his chest a playful pat before you settled again. “Usually, you’re already up before the sun, big guy.”

Logan’s jaw clenched at the nickname. His eyes narrowed at the room—a modest hotel room with vintage floral wallpaper and creaky wooden furniture—and the small pile of clothes at the foot of the bed. His leather jacket. Your dress. The pieces clicked into place far too quickly, but they didn’t make it easier to stomach.

He turned his head enough to catch sight of you, hair slightly messy, lips curled in a lazy grin. You were radiant in a way that didn’t match the world he’d just left behind. The world he’d come back to fix. And you had no idea how much he’d missed that expression.

“What’s with the look?” you asked, tilting your head. “Do I have something on my face, or are you just debating whether or not you’re gonna finish that cigar from yesterday?”

Logan shook his head slightly, clearing the fog. “Nah. Just… thinkin’.”

“You?” you quipped. “That’s dangerous.”

“Cute,” he replied dryly, though a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

You laughed and pulled back, sitting up against the headboard. Your expression softened when you caught a hint of the tension still lingering in his body. “You okay? You seem… off.”

“Yeah. I’m fine.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed, sitting on the edge to gather himself. “Just didn’t sleep great.”

“You tossed and turned a lot,” you agreed, though your concern didn’t waver. “Another bad dream?”

Logan didn’t answer immediately. The memories of the future, the Sentinels, the war, and your other death pressed heavily on him. Instead, he grunted noncommittally and stood, grabbing his jeans from a chair nearby.

“Y’know,” you said behind him, watching as he pulled on his shirt, “most bodyguards don’t get that much real estate in their boss’s daughter’s bed.”

Logan froze for a beat before throwing you a glance over his shoulder. “Most bodyguards don’t sneak them outta her own wedding either, darlin’.”

You grinned mischievously, leaning your head back against the headboard. “Guess that makes us even.”

He shook his head but couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped. You haven’t changed a bit.

Before either of you could say anything more, there was a sharp knock on the door. Logan’s entire body tensed, his senses sharpening instantly. He sniffed the air, picking up the distinct scents of sweat, leather, and gunpowder.

“Stay here,” he said lowly, grabbing his jacket and stepping toward the door.

“Logan, what—”

“I mean it,” he said, cutting you off with a firm glance. The tone in his voice told you not to argue.

He moved toward the door, his hand hovering over the knob as his other reached behind him for the small knife he kept tucked into his waistband. He opened the door slightly, just enough to peer through the crack.

Two men stood in the hall, dressed in dark suits. Their faces were sharp, unfamiliar, but their eyes carried an unmistakable menace.

“Can I help you?” Logan asked gruffly.

“Yeah,” one of them said. “We’re here for the lady. Her father’s lookin’ for her.”

Logan didn’t hesitate. He slammed the door shut and locked it, spinning back toward you. “Get down,” he barked.

“What’s going on?” you asked, but the urgency in his voice made you scramble off the bed.

The door shuddered as one of the men kicked it. Logan growled low in his throat, adrenaline surging as his hands instinctively balled into fists. Bone claws erupted from his knuckles with a sickening snikt, and he turned toward the door just as it splintered inward.

Your sharp gasp filled the room, but there was no time for questions. Logan launched himself at the first man, driving his claws deep into the guy’s shoulder. Blood sprayed across the room as the second man raised a gun, but Logan was faster. He yanked his claws free and swung, knocking the weapon from the man’s hand before driving his claws into his stomach.

It was over in seconds, but the aftermath left the room in chaos. Logan stood over the bodies, his breathing heavy, his shirt streaked with blood. His claws glistened in the dim light, and as he turned toward you, his expression softened.

“Logan…” you whispered, your voice shaking. Your eyes were wide, fixed on the bone claws still protruding from his hands.

He hesitated, then retracted them with a shudder, the wounds on his knuckles sealing themselves almost instantly. “I can explain,” he said gruffly.

“You—you just…” You couldn’t find the words.

“Y/N,” he said, stepping toward you carefully. “I need you to trust me.”

You stared at him, your mind racing. The man you thought you knew had just turned into something else entirely—but it wasn’t fear that kept you rooted in place. It was the way he was looking at you, desperate, protective, like he’d go through hell just to keep you safe.

“I…” You took a shaky breath. “I trust you.”

Logan’s shoulders sagged in relief, though the tension in the room didn’t dissipate. He grabbed a bag from the corner of the room and tossed it toward you. “We need to move. Now.”

Before you could question him further, he bent down, rummaging through the man’s jacket pocket to snag the keys before heading for the door. You hesitated, your mind still racing to process what you had just seen. The claws, the blood, the sheer force he used to take out armed men—it was like something out of a nightmare. But Logan wasn’t the nightmare. He was the only constant in this whirlwind you called your life.

“Y/N,” Logan’s voice broke through your haze. He was standing by the door, his tone sharp but not unkind. “Let’s go. Now.”

You shoved a few belongings into the bag, still half-dressed from sleep, and moved quickly to his side. “Logan, what the hell is goin’ on?”

“I’ll explain later,” he said, keeping his voice low and his gaze locked on the hallway as he peeked out. “For now, we’ve gotta put some distance between us and whoever else your father’s sent after you.”

Your stomach twisted at the mention of your father, but you followed him out of the room, clutching the strap of the bag tightly. “How did they even find us?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care,” Logan muttered, leading you down the narrow hallway. His shoulders were rigid, his entire body coiled like a spring. “What matters is keeping you outta their hands.”

The two of you reached the stairwell, and Logan paused at the top, scanning the area below. He tilted his head, his nostrils flaring as he sniffed the air. Whatever he smelled didn’t seem to calm him, but he motioned for you to follow anyway.

You descended the stairs as quietly as you could, your bare feet barely making a sound against the worn carpet. “Logan, seriously, you need to tell me what’s going on. Those… claws, or whatever—”

“Not now, sweetheart,” he interrupted, his voice tense but firm. “We’ve gotta focus on getting outta here.”

You bit your lip, frustration bubbling under your skin. This wasn’t the first time Logan had dodged your questions, but after what you’d just seen, you weren’t about to let it slide for long.

The two of you slipped out a side door into the cool morning air. The parking lot was mostly empty, save for a few scattered vehicles. Logan made a beeline for a black sedan parked near the edge of the lot. He unlocked the door and ushered you inside without a word.

“Logan—” you started as he slid into the driver’s seat, but he cut you off again.

“Buckle up,” he said, starting the engine.

You shot him a glare but did as he said, snapping the seatbelt into place. Logan peeled out of the lot, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as his eyes flicked between the road and the rearview mirror.

For a few minutes, the only sound was the hum of the engine and the faint thud of your heartbeat in your ears. You watched him closely, noting the way his jaw clenched and his knuckles turned white around the wheel.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s going on now?” you finally demanded, crossing your arms. “Because I think I deserve an explanation after that little… display back there.”

Logan let out a slow breath through his nose, his eyes still on the road. “It’s complicated.”

“No kidding,” you shot back. “Start with the claws. What the hell are they, Logan? And don’t tell me they’re some kind of freak weapon because I saw them come out of your hands.”

He glanced at you briefly, his expression unreadable. “They’re a part of me,” he said simply.

You blinked, taken aback by the matter-of-fact tone in his voice. “What do you mean, ‘a part of you’? Like, you were born with them?”

“Somethin’ like that,” he muttered.

You stared at him, waiting for more, but he didn’t elaborate. Frustration bubbled over, and you leaned forward, grabbing his arm. “Logan, I’m serious. I need answers.”

He sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly as he finally looked over at you. “I’ll tell you everything, sweetheart. Just not right now. Right now, we’ve gotta focus on getting somewhere safe.”

“And where’s that?” you asked, your voice softening slightly.

“A place I know,” he said, turning his attention back to the road. “We’ll head north, get outta the city, and figure it out from there.”

You frowned, unsure whether to trust his vague assurances. But the look in his eyes, the raw determination mixed with something you couldn’t quite place—it was enough to quiet your doubts for now.

“Fine,” you said, leaning back in your seat. “But you owe me the truth. All of it.”

Logan smirked faintly, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’ve always been a tough one, huh?”

“Damn right,” you muttered, crossing your arms again. But despite your defiant tone, a small part of you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of something else—something warm and familiar—when he called you tough.

You didn’t notice the way his grip on the wheel tightened at your response or the way his jaw clenched ever so slightly. To you, this was just another chaotic morning in the whirlwind of your life. But to Logan, it was a painful reminder of how many mornings like this he’d lost with you.

---

You tapped your fingers on your thigh, still waiting for Logan to come out of this mansion, which looked like it had seen better days.

You groaned as you tilted your head back, adjusting yourself in the car seat. It had been a while since Logan left the car and went inside, almost 2 hours. You would know, you’ve been watching the clock.

Finally, Logan stepped outside and briskly walked to the car door, opening it for you. “Jesus, what took so long?” You asked, as he grabbed your bag from the backside and guided you into the house where two other men were, one with glasses, the other with long curly hair. “Logan-?”

“You’re staying here.” He stated.

You stopped dead in your tracks, your eyes narrowing at Logan. “What?” you demanded. “You said we’d figure this out together. You didn’t say anything about leaving me here.”

Logan ran a hand through his hair, already looking stressed. “Plans changed, darlin’,” he said, his tone calm but firm. “Charles and Hank are comin’ with me. We’ve got somethin’ to take care of, and it’s safer if you stay here.”

“Safer? Logan, this place is the size of a damn castle!” You gestured around the massive entry hall, frustration spilling over. “You’re just gonna leave me here by myself? What if they come for me again? What am I supposed to do then?”

“You won’t be alone,” Charles interjected, his tone measured but polite. He glanced briefly at Logan, as if trying to gauge how much to say. “This house has a number of protections. You’ll be secure here.”

“Secure from who?” you fired back, your eyes darting between the two men. “You all keep throwing words around like ‘safe’ and ‘protected,’ but you won’t tell me from what!”

Logan stepped closer, his voice softening. “Y/N, I know you’ve got questions, and I know this ain’t easy, but trust me. If I thought for a second there was a better way to keep you outta harm’s way, I’d do it.”

You stared at him, trying to ignore the way his voice—the way he called you by name—seemed to ease some of the tension in your chest. But it wasn’t enough. “You always do this,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “You make decisions for me like I’m some fragile little doll. I’m not helpless, Logan.”

“I know that,” he said quickly, his gaze locking onto yours. “But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna take chances with you.”

“You’re unbelievable,” you muttered, shaking your head. “And where exactly are you going that’s so important you can’t tell me?”

Logan hesitated, his jaw tightening. He glanced at Charles, who gave him a slight nod. “We’ve gotta stop someone,” Logan finally said, his voice low. “Someone who’s about to make a big mistake.”

“That’s it?” you asked, your frustration rising again. “That’s all you’re gonna give me?”

“That’s all you need to know right now,” Logan replied. He reached out, his hand brushing against your arm. “Look, I promise I’ll explain everything when I get back. But for now, I need you to trust me.”

You stared at him, your chest tight with a mix of anger and something softer, something you didn’t want to name. “Fine,” you said at last, pulling away from his touch. “But don’t expect me to be happy about it.”

Logan smirked faintly, though his eyes were serious. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Charles cleared his throat, stepping forward. “Y/N, I understand this is a lot to take in, but I assure you, this is the safest course of action for now. Hank and I will only be gone for a short while.”

“Yeah,” you muttered, glancing at him briefly. “You better be.”

Logan nodded at Charles, then turned back to you. “There’s food in the kitchen, and plenty of space to stretch out. Don’t open the doors for anyone but me or them. Got it?”

You rolled your eyes but nodded. “Got it.”

Logan hesitated for a moment, as if he wanted to say more, but then he turned and followed Charles and Hank toward the door. You watched them leave, the sound of the heavy door closing echoing in the empty mansion.

For a long moment, you stood in the middle of the entry hall, clutching your bag and trying to process everything that had just happened. Finally, you let out a heavy sigh and slung the bag over your shoulder.

“Guess I’m on my own,” you muttered, heading deeper into the mansion to figure out how the hell you were supposed to pass the time in this massive, empty house.

---

It didn’t take long for you to get bored, even in a place as massive as this. From what you gathered during your first walkthrough, this mansion had likely been a boarding school at some point. The classrooms, rows of bedrooms, and an enormous kitchen all hinted at its past. But now, it was eerily quiet—like a castle frozen in time.

You wandered aimlessly, peeking into rooms and finding nothing but empty desks, dust-covered books, and a growing sense of restlessness. The longer you roamed, the more your mind churned over Logan’s sudden departure. You didn’t want to admit it, but his absence had left a void—a nagging worry that you couldn’t shake.

You sighed, stopping in front of a wide window overlooking the overgrown courtyard. What am I even doing here? you thought. Your fingers tapped against the windowpane as you chewed the inside of your cheek. Maybe you should’ve pushed harder for answers instead of letting Logan sidestep your questions—again.

The faint hum of a clock ticking in the hallway was the only sound accompanying your thoughts. It wasn’t enough to drown out the memories of Logan’s claws unsheathing back at the hotel or the unspoken tension in his voice when he said, “you won’t be alone.”

“Great,” you muttered under your breath, turning away from the window. “Stuck in the middle of nowhere with nothing but cryptic warnings and empty rooms.”

You wandered back to the kitchen, hoping to find something to pass the time. The fridge was surprisingly well-stocked, and you made yourself a quick sandwich. As you ate, your gaze drifted toward the doorway, half expecting Logan to stride through it with that familiar scowl on his face.

But the doorway remained empty.

With a groan, you pushed the plate away and leaned back in the chair. “This sucks,” you muttered.

The silence pressed against your ears as you sat there, tapping your fingers on the table. You couldn’t help but think back to Logan’s expression when he’d left. There was something in his eyes—something heavy, like he was carrying more than just the weight of keeping you safe. He always did that, didn’t he? Took on the burden for everyone else, even if it meant shutting you out.

You stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. No more sitting around like a damsel in distress, you decided. If Logan was off dealing with whatever ‘big mistake’ he’d mentioned, you’d figure out how to occupy yourself in the meantime.

---

A while later, you found yourself back in one of the old classrooms. The chalkboards were dusty, and the desks were in varying states of disrepair, but it was oddly comforting in a way. You sat down at one of the desks and fiddled with a piece of chalk, drawing random lines on the board in front of you.

The quiet of the mansion felt oppressive. Every creak of the old wood or groan of the structure made your heart skip a beat. You weren’t sure if it was just your imagination playing tricks on you or if there was something more sinister lurking in the silence.

You sighed, leaning back in the chair. “Why’d you leave me here, Logan?” you muttered to yourself. The question hung in the air, unanswered, like so many others he’d dodged over the months.

As you stared at the lines you’d absentmindedly drawn, you thought back to your father. His control over your life had been suffocating, but this—running, hiding, fearing what might come next—was a different kind of prison. Logan had promised to protect you, but how could he if he wasn’t here?

A sudden noise in the hallway snapped you out of your thoughts. You froze, the piece of chalk slipping from your fingers and clattering onto the desk.

“Logan?” you called out, your voice trembling slightly. There was no response.

You rose slowly from the desk, your heart pounding in your chest. The sound came again—closer this time. It wasn’t the creak of the old mansion settling. It was deliberate, like footsteps.

You moved toward the door, peeking into the hallway. It was empty, but the faint sound of movement reached your ears from somewhere deeper in the house.

“Logan?” you tried again, your voice firmer.

Still nothing.

Clutching your jacket sleeve tightly, you stepped into the hallway, your bare feet silent against the worn wooden floors. The air felt colder somehow, and the shadows seemed to stretch longer.

You made your way toward the source of the noise, your pulse quickening with every step. Part of you wanted to turn back, to lock yourself in one of the rooms and wait for Logan to return, but you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something wasn’t right.

As you rounded the corner, you saw them. Men in dark suits, their faces obscured by the dim lighting. There were at least four of them, moving methodically through the mansion as if they knew exactly where to look.

Your breath caught in your throat. They weren’t here by accident.

You turned quickly, intending to retreat and find a place to hide, but it was too late. One of the men spotted you, his sharp eyes locking onto yours.

“She’s here!” he barked, and the others turned toward you immediately.

Panic surged through your veins as you broke into a sprint, your bare feet barely making a sound against the floor. You didn’t know where you were running, only that you had to get away.

“Stop her!” one of them shouted, and the sound of heavy footsteps followed you.

You darted into another hallway, your mind racing. You needed a plan, a way out, but the labyrinthine mansion offered no clear escape routes.

A hand suddenly grabbed your arm, yanking you backward. You let out a startled cry, struggling against the grip.

“Let go of me!” you screamed, kicking and clawing at the man holding you.

He grimaced but held firm, dragging you toward the others. “Stop fighting, or this gets messy,” he growled.

“Like hell it does,” you spat, managing to stomp on his foot hard enough to make him loosen his grip.

You broke free, stumbling forward, but another man was already there. He grabbed you by the waist, lifting you off the ground despite your thrashing.

“Let me go!” you shouted, your voice echoing through the empty halls.

“Enough!” a voice barked, and the men froze.

A figure stepped out of the shadows—an older man with a cold, calculating expression. You recognized him immediately. One of your father’s men.

“Miss Y/N,” he said smoothly, his tone dripping with false politeness. “Your father’s been worried sick about you.”

“Bullshit,” you snapped, glaring at him. “He doesn’t care about me.”

The man chuckled, a low, menacing sound. “Whether he cares or not isn’t really the issue, is it? You belong to him. And he’s decided it’s time you came home.”

“Over my dead body,” you shot back, your voice defiant even as fear coiled in your chest.

The man’s smile widened, and there was something cruel in his eyes. “If that’s what it takes.”

You struggled harder, but the men holding you were too strong. They began dragging you toward the exit, your cries for help swallowed by the vast emptiness of the mansion.

In that moment, a horrible realization settled over you. Logan wasn’t here to save you.

And this time, there was no escape.

---

The room was dim, lit by a single, flickering bulb swaying overhead. The scent of mildew clung to the air, mixing with the metallic tang of rust from the pipes along the walls. You blinked groggily, your head pounding as the events leading up to this moment replayed in your mind.

Interrogation, then murder. That’s how these things went. You knew it, had known it since you were a child sitting quietly at the top of the stairs, listening in on conversations you weren’t supposed to hear. The Romano family didn’t forgive betrayal, and neither did your father.

Your wrists ached where the rough ropes dug into them, tying you to the chair. The metal groaned beneath your weight as you tried to shift, testing the bindings. No give. You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it hard to breathe.

From the shadows, the men emerged one by one, their faces a mix of familiarity and dread. You recognized some from your father’s estate—men who had once tipped their hats to you out of respect, now staring at you like a wolf pack eyeing its prey. Among them was Clyde Romano, his sharp suit immaculate despite the grim surroundings.

“Well, well,” Clyde drawled, adjusting his cuffs as he stepped closer. His cold eyes gleamed with a mixture of triumph and disdain. “You’ve been a busy little runaway, haven’t you?”

“Fuck you, Clyde,” you spat, your voice steadier than you expected.

He smirked, leaning in until you could feel his breath against your cheek. “Bold words for someone in your position. But that’s always been your problem, hasn’t it? Too much mouth, not enough sense.”

One of the men chuckled darkly, and you shot him a glare sharp enough to cut.

Clyde straightened, motioning for the others to spread out. “See, Y/N, this could’ve all been so simple. You play the good little bride, marry into the family, and keep your mouth shut. But no. You had to run. Had to embarrass your father. And me.”

“Embarrass you?” You barked out a bitter laugh. “Oh, I’m sorry. Were your fragile little feelings hurt because I didn’t want to be your trophy wife?”

Clyde’s smile faltered, his jaw tightening. He nodded toward one of his men, who stepped forward and struck you across the face. Pain exploded along your cheek, sharp and hot.

“Watch your mouth,” Clyde hissed.

You turned your head back slowly, your vision swimming. Blood trickled from the corner of your lip, but you smiled through it, defiant. “That all you’ve got?”

Clyde’s expression darkened, and he stepped closer, gripping your chin roughly. “You’re real brave for someone who doesn’t have a way out.”

Your stomach twisted at the truth of his words, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing fear in your eyes. “Better to die standing than live on my knees,” you shot back.

“Your boyfriend isn’t here to save you, sweetheart,” he said casually, his tone laced with mockery. “What was his name? Logan?”

Your heart clenched at the sound of his name, but you kept your face blank.

“He left you,” Clyde continued. “Just like everyone else will. Because you’re not worth the trouble.”

“That so?” you bit out. “Then why are you here?”

He stopped, looking over his shoulder with a smirk. “To clean up the mess you made.”

Clyde stepped back, giving a subtle nod to one of the men. The air seemed to thicken as the man pulled a knife from his belt, the blade glinting in the weak light.

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t look away. If this was the end, you’d meet it head-on, with your head held high.

“Any last words?” Clyde asked, his tone almost bored.

You swallowed hard, the weight of everything pressing down on you. The memories of Logan’s rough hands holding yours, his gruff voice calling you darlin’ in that way that made your chest ache, his eyes softening in those rare moments when he let his guard down.

You thought of him now—miles away, caught up in something you couldn’t begin to understand. If he were here, he’d fight. He always did. But this time, you were on your own.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice steady despite the tears threatening to spill. “Go to hell.”

Clyde tilted his head, unimpressed. The man with the knife stepped forward, and you clenched your fists, bracing yourself for the inevitable.

The blade gleamed, catching the light one last time before it plunged toward you.

And then, there was only darkness.

---

Logan paced the bedroom; he had known something was off the second they got back. For one, you were nowhere in the mansion and your bag was sitting on the couch in the rec room.

Hank hesitantly stood by the doorframe for a few moments before speaking, “there’s a theory in quantum physics that time is immutable.” Logan paused his pacing as Hank continued, “it’s like a river—you can throw a pebble into it, create a ripple, but the current always corrects itself. No matter what you do, the river just… keeps flowing in the same direction.”

Logan let out a small scoff, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in a fleeting smile. “The B-theory of time.”

Hank blinked, his brows furrowing. “You’re familiar with it?”

Logan shrugged, leaning back against the wall, his arms crossed. “Yeah, I’ve heard it before. Someone once tried explaining it to me—something about all moments in time existing simultaneously. Past, present, future, all laid out like pages in a book.” He tilted his head, his gaze hardening. “Didn’t make it sound any less screwed up.”

Hank tilted his head slightly, caught off guard. “That’s a fairly accurate summation, Logan. I’m… surprised you retained that much.”

Logan’s lips twitched again, but his eyes darkened with a tinge of something that looked like regret. “Good teacher,” he muttered, his voice low. His mind flicked back to the quiet hours spent with you in the rec room at the mansion, your voice steady as you explained the theories of time and space with the kind of patience that used to drive him insane. “Good teacher,” he repeated, softer this time.

Hank didn’t press the matter, though curiosity lingered in his expression. Instead, he adjusted his glasses and continued. “Right. Well, the theory suggests that no matter how many changes we attempt to make, the timeline has a way of self-correcting. That ripple you caused? It’ll still flow back into the current, Logan. That’s why it’s imperative you stay focused on the larger mission—on stopping Mystique before—”

Logan cut him off with a sharp wave of his hand. “I know, McCoy. Believe me, I get it.” His voice was rougher now, frustration creeping into his tone. “But I can’t just stand here and do nothing. She’s out there—alone—because of me.” His jaw clenched, the muscles tightening like a vice. “I should’ve stayed with her.”

“And then what?” Hank countered, his voice measured but firm. “Thrown yourself headfirst into whatever danger awaits her without a plan? Gotten yourself killed before you even had the chance to stop Mystique? Would that have helped her, Logan? Or anyone else?”

Logan exhaled harshly, raking a hand through his hair. He hated when Hank was right—hated it even more because staying put went against every instinct he had. He’d lost you too many times before, and the idea of it happening again, here in this warped timeline, made his chest feel like it was caught in a vice.

“Look,” Hank said after a pause, his tone softening. “You’re not doing her—or yourself—any favors by acting recklessly. We need you tomorrow at the hearing. Mystique’s actions will set off a chain reaction if we don’t intervene, and that means we need all hands on deck.” He gave Logan a pointed look, then hesitated before adding, “Besides, the Y/N I met didn’t strike me as someone who’d go down without a fight.”

Logan’s gaze snapped to Hank, sharp and unyielding. “What’d you say?”

Hank shifted uncomfortably. “I mean… she was a little out of her element, sure, but she seemed resourceful. Strong-willed. Determined. She’s not just going to sit around waiting to be rescued, Logan.”

Logan’s shoulders relaxed slightly at Hank’s words, though his face remained guarded. He knew you—knew that fire inside you, even in this lifetime. You’d been through hell and still managed to crack that crooked smile, to tease him when he was too gruff for his own good. If anyone could find a way out of a bad situation, it was you.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t worried sick.

“She’s got guts,” Logan muttered, almost to himself. “Too much, sometimes.”

Hank adjusted his glasses again, watching Logan closely. “Then trust her to hold her own until we can deal with this together. Running off now would be counterproductive and, frankly, reckless.”

Logan let out a low growl of frustration, but he didn’t argue further. Deep down, he knew Hank was right. If he ran out of here now, he’d jeopardize everything—not just the mission, but the fragile thread of hope that had brought him to this point.

Still, the ache in his chest wouldn’t subside. It never did, not when it came to you.

“She’d better be okay,” he muttered, more to himself than to Hank. “Or I’ll—” His voice caught, and he shook his head. “Never mind.”

Hank didn’t respond immediately. He just watched as Logan sank into the chair by the window, his gaze distant.

For now, all Logan could do was wait.

---

Logan woke up to the sun shining through green curtains as he lay on his side, clutching his pillow. He turned over to look at the holographic clock on the other side of the bed, a stack of books on the table along with a single pen.

“The first time, ever I saw your face.”

He sat up, groggy as he looked at the familiar gold doorknob.

“I thought the sun,” Logan stood up and opened the door as a school bell rang and a kid walked out of their room. “Rose in your eyes.” He saw Bobby standing against a door frame as Rogue walked out and grabbed his hand, the two of them glancing over at Logan before walking away.

Logan walked by a classroom where Kitty was at the head of the room, a hologram in her hands, “Buckminster Fuller is a great example of an architect whose ideas were very similar to those of a utopian future. He would build structures that would work with nature, versus against it.”

He looked down the hall as Beast walked past him, clad in a brown suit, “morning, Logan. Late start,” he chuckled, as Logan watched him walk by.

Logan then walked down the stairs, seeing students converse with Storm. He continued his way down the stairs and into the open area, seeing familiar red hair leaning against the Professor’s open door.

Jean turned to look at him, “hey, Logan,” she softly called out as he glanced her way and back down the other hallways.

He saw a group of students walking huddled together before splitting apart briefly as you walked past them.

Logan’s breath hitched as you walked past the group of students, your hair catching the light streaming through the mansion’s tall windows. You didn’t notice him immediately, too focused on the stack of papers in your arms and the pen tucked behind your ear. He froze in place, his heart pounding like it hadn’t in years—decades, even.

You glanced up just as you passed him, pausing mid-step when your eyes met his. There was warmth in your gaze, that familiar spark he’d seen so many lifetimes ago, but this time it wasn’t tinged with hesitation or confusion. It was easy. Natural.

“There you are,” you said, a small smile gracing your lips as you adjusted the papers in your arms. “I was about to come looking for you. Late morning?”

Logan stared at you for a beat too long, the sound of your voice wrapping around him like a long-lost melody. He blinked, clearing his throat and trying to push past the lump that had formed there. “Yeah... guess so.”

Your smile widened, though your brow furrowed just slightly. “You okay, Lo?” you asked softly, stepping closer.

He managed a nod, though his throat felt tight. “Yeah, just... uh, still waking up, I guess.”

You tilted your head slightly, studying him in that way you always used to when something seemed off. “Well, if you’re awake enough, maybe you could help me wrangle some of the kids for class?” You gestured toward the papers in your arms. “I need to grab a few more things, and Laura’s been trying to skip out on physics again. You didn’t even budge when the alarm went off this morning, but you’re lucky Scott owed you a favor, so he covered your history class—”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence when Logan’s arms wrapped around you, his hold firm but not crushing. His head burrowed into the crook of your neck, and for a moment, everything around you seemed to pause. You blinked, startled, the stack of papers in your arms wobbling precariously before you instinctively steadied them against your chest.

“Logan?” you asked softly, your voice tinged with concern and confusion. “What’s going on?”

He didn’t answer right away. His breathing was heavy, his body tense against yours as though he was clinging to something—or someone—he thought he’d lost. The warmth of his presence, his scent of leather and pine, was familiar, but this intensity was new.

You let the silence hang for a moment, your free hand instinctively lifting to rest on his shoulder. “Lo,” you tried again, your tone softer now, laced with the kind of patience that only years together had nurtured. “Talk to me.”

Logan pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you, but his hands remained firm on your waist. His eyes were wild, scanning your face like he was searching for proof that you were real. For a fleeting second, you caught something raw in his expression—something vulnerable.

“You’re here,” he muttered, almost to himself. His voice was hoarse, as though he hadn’t spoken in days. “You’re… really here.”

Your brows knitted together as you tilted your head, trying to piece together what could have possibly spurred this reaction. “Of course I’m here,” you said with a small, hesitant laugh, your hand sliding from his shoulder to his cheek. “Where else would I be?”

Before Logan could respond, the unmistakable sound of small, hurried footsteps echoed down the hall. A high-pitched voice followed, cutting through the moment like a pebble skipping across still water.

“Daddy!”

Logan froze. His hands fell away from your waist as a little girl with dark hair barreled toward the two of you, her pigtails bouncing with each step. She clung to Logan’s leg without hesitation, looking up at him with the wide, innocent eyes of someone who knew no fear or doubt.

Gabby.

The name surfaced in Logan’s mind like a fragment from a dream, though it came with no context—no memories to anchor it. He stared down at the child, his breath catching as she grinned up at him.

“Daddy, I found you!” she declared triumphantly, like it was a great accomplishment. “Laura said you were being slow again.”

You chuckled softly, crouching down to ruffle Gabby’s hair. “What did we say about calling your dad slow?” you teased gently, though there was no real reprimand in your tone.

Gabby giggled, leaning into your touch. “Only when it’s funny?”

“Exactly,” you replied with a smirk before standing again and glancing at Logan, who still hadn’t moved or spoken. “Lo, you okay?” you asked again, your concern deepening.

Logan’s gaze flicked between you and Gabby, his chest tightening. The ring on your finger caught the light as you moved, and for the first time, he noticed it—the familiar band of gold he’d carried for over a century.

His heart stuttered. You’re wearing it.

“Logan?” you pressed, stepping closer again. Gabby, still holding onto his leg, tilted her head in confusion.

Logan swallowed hard, forcing himself to push past the whirlwind in his mind. “Yeah,” he rasped, his voice strained but steady enough. “I’m fine.”

You didn’t look convinced, but you didn’t push him. Instead, you nodded toward the stack of papers in your arms. “You sure? Because if you’re about to have an existential crisis, I need you to hold off until after you help me track down Laura. Deal?”

Logan blinked, your teasing tone pulling him out of his daze. He managed a weak chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. Deal.”

Gabby tugged at his pant leg, her face scrunched in determination. “Daddy, can we get pancakes after? Laura said she’d eat ten, but I bet I could eat twelve.”

You snorted softly, looking between Gabby and Logan with an amused smile. “You’re not actually gonna let her eat twelve pancakes, are you?”

Logan’s lips twitched, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “We’ll see,” he said gruffly, his mind still miles away as he tried to make sense of everything.

You gave him another look, your brows furrowing slightly, but you let it go for now. “Come on,” you said, shifting the papers in your arms. “Let’s get this day started.”

As you turned to lead Gabby toward the stairs, Logan lingered for a moment, his eyes fixed on the gold band on your finger. His thoughts churned, the weight of the moment pressing down on him like a heavy fog.

He needed answers. And he knew exactly who to talk to.

---

Logan pushed open the door to Charles’s office without knocking, his usual roughness softened just enough by the turmoil bubbling beneath his skin. Charles, sitting calmly at his desk with his hands folded, looked up with a raised brow.

“Logan,” Charles greeted, his tone patient but curious. “I wasn’t expecting you so early. Is everything alright?”

Logan stepped inside, closing the door behind him before glancing over his shoulder. He needed to make sure you hadn’t followed. When he was satisfied, he turned back to Charles, his jaw tightening.

“No,” Logan said simply. “We need to talk. Now.”

Charles’s brow furrowed, and he gestured to the chair in front of him. “Please, sit. Tell me what’s troubling you.”

Logan ignored the chair, pacing instead. “I woke up this morning, and I—” He dragged a hand down his face, struggling to find the words. “Chuck, I ain’t supposed to be here. This… this timeline, it ain’t mine.”

Charles’s expression shifted, his calm demeanor replaced with something more serious. “I see,” he said carefully. “Go on.”

“You remember what Kitty did,” Logan said, stopping to lean on the edge of the desk. “Sending my mind back to ’73, to fix everything. To stop the Sentinels.”

“Yes,” Charles replied, his voice steady. “And you succeeded, Logan. The world you’re in now is a result of that success.”

Logan’s laugh was bitter, shaking his head. “Then why the hell don’t I remember it, huh? Why do I remember… all of it? The Sentinels. The Phoenix. Y/N—” His voice cracked, and he looked away, his fists clenching. “She died, Chuck. In my timeline, she died. Jean, too. All of you.”

Charles regarded him quietly, his hands still folded. “Logan, the mind is a complicated thing. It’s possible that in the process of returning you to this point in time, fragments of your original timeline have remained intact.”

“Fragments?” Logan scoffed, pushing off the desk to pace again. “Chuck, this ain’t fragments. I remember it all. I remember her dying six times, dammit. I remember the look on her face when she—” He stopped himself, his breathing ragged.

Charles’s expression softened. “Logan, this is your life now. Whatever timeline you came from, whatever you remember, it’s in the past. This is your reality now. Y/N is alive. Jean is alive. You have a family, a home.”

Logan’s hands curled into fists at his sides. “Yeah, but it ain’t mine. This ring—” He held up his own hand with his own ring, the band of gold catching the light. “I didn’t put it on her finger, Chuck. Some other version of me did. And I don’t know how to be him.”

Charles leaned forward slightly, his voice gentle but firm. “Then perhaps it’s time you learned. For her. For your family.”

Logan stared at him, his chest tight. He wanted to argue, to push back, but the truth of Charles’s words settled heavy in his gut. He’d fought so hard to change the future, to make sure you and everyone else had a chance at a better life. Now that it was here, he didn’t know how to live in it.

He rubbed a hand over his face, exhaling shakily. “What do I do, Chuck?”

Charles smiled faintly. “You take it one day at a time, Logan. And you start by going back to her.”

---

You stood in the Professor’s office, your arms crossed, the faint cherry gloss on your lips catching the sunlight through the large windows. You tilted your head slightly, studying Logan as he leaned against the desk, his expression unreadable but tense.

“So…” you began, your voice soft but steady, “you’re from a different timeline? One where none of this happened?”

Logan exhaled heavily, running a hand through his unruly hair. “Yeah, sweetheart. That’s about the size of it.”

Your gaze flicked between him and Charles, who sat calmly behind his desk, his hands folded in front of him. “And in that timeline…” you hesitated, your voice faltering slightly. “What happened to me?”

Logan’s jaw tightened, his eyes briefly darting away from yours before he forced himself to meet your gaze. The weight of his memories hung between you, unspoken but palpable.

“You didn’t make it,” he admitted, his voice low and gravelly.

The room felt colder, the air heavier as his words settled over you. You shifted slightly, gripping your own arms as if to steady yourself.

“But not this time,” Charles interjected gently, his calm voice breaking the silence. “This timeline is different, Y/N. You survived, as did many others who didn’t in Logan’s original timeline.”

You turned to Charles, your brow furrowing. “How? How is that even possible? Timelines aren’t just malleable—”

“They are when someone like Kitty Pryde is involved,” Charles replied, his tone steady but kind. “Logan changed the future, which altered the past. But it seems his mind retained the memories of his original timeline when he was brought back.”

You looked at Logan, your head spinning as you tried to wrap your mind around what they were telling you. “So… you’re saying that everything I remember—all the years we’ve been together, raising Gabby and Laura—they’re real, but to you, they’re…”

“New,” Logan finished for you. He pushed off the desk, his hands going to his hips as he paced the room. “To me, darlin’, this—” he gestured vaguely at the mansion around him, “—this is all brand new. The last thing I remember before waking up this morning was bein’ in 1973, tryin’ to stop Mystique from killin’ Trask.”

Your lips parted, but no words came out. The Logan standing before you was so familiar, yet so… not. He was the same man you’d spent decades with, and yet he wasn’t.

“You’re still you,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan stopped pacing, turning to look at you. His gaze softened slightly, the hard edges of his frustration melting away. “Yeah,” he said gruffly. “Still me.”

“But you don’t remember Gabby or Laura,” you said, a pang of sadness creeping into your voice. “You don’t remember us.”

Logan’s expression twisted with guilt. “No, sweetheart,” he admitted. “Not the way I should. But I’m tryin’. I swear to you, I’m gonna figure this out.”

You stepped closer to him, your glasses sliding slightly down your nose as you looked up into his eyes. “You’re not alone in this, Logan,” you said softly. “We’ll figure it out together.”

He stared at you, his throat tightening at the unwavering trust in your eyes. Slowly, he reached out, his large hand brushing against yours before taking it fully. “Thanks, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice rough but sincere.

Charles cleared his throat gently, drawing your attention. “The bond you two share has persisted across lifetimes,” he said. “It is not surprising that it remains strong, even now.”

You glanced back at Logan, your fingers still entwined with his. “I guess it’s just one more thing we’ve survived together,” you said with a faint smile.

Logan’s lips quirked upward, just barely. “Yeah,” he said. “Guess so.”

But as the three of you stood there, Logan couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of a much bigger challenge. For now, though, he let himself hold onto your hand, grounding himself in the one constant he’d always known: you.

---

Laura stared across the table at Logan, her sharp eyes taking in every detail of his face as if she were trying to find something different, something off. Meanwhile, Gabby’s bright voice filled the dining room.

“And then, they just grow back their limbs! Like, if an axolotl loses a leg or even its tail, it’s all, poof! Fixed!” Gabby made an exaggerated explosion motion with her hands, her fork clattering against her plate. “Isn’t that cool, Daddy?”

Logan blinked, dragging himself out of his thoughts. “Uh, yeah, kid. Real cool.” His voice was gruff but softer than usual as he glanced at her. Gabby beamed, apparently satisfied with his half-hearted response, and took another bite of her pancake.

“Dad doesn’t even know what an axolotl is,” Laura said flatly, her gaze never leaving him.

Gabby gasped, scandalized. “Laura! Of course he does! He’s Daddy! He knows everything!”

Logan scratched the back of his neck, an awkward chuckle slipping out. “Well, I wouldn’t say everything…”

Laura narrowed her eyes slightly, leaning back in her chair. “You’re acting weird.”

“Laura,” you said gently, walking into the room with a cup of coffee in hand. You leaned against the doorway, your glasses slipping down your nose just a touch as you looked at your daughter. “Be nice.”

“She’s not wrong,” Logan muttered under his breath, but you caught it and shot him a warning look.

Laura crossed her arms, clearly unimpressed. “He didn’t even laugh at Gabby’s joke about Mom’s coffee yesterday. That’s how you know something’s wrong.”

You hid your smile behind your mug. “To be fair, it wasn’t a great joke, Gabby.”

“It was hilarious!” Gabby protested, slapping her hands on the table for emphasis.

“Sure, sweetie,” you said with a chuckle, walking over to Logan. Your hand found his shoulder as you leaned down slightly. “Why don’t you two finish breakfast? We’ll be right back.”

Logan shot you a look but didn’t argue as you guided him out of the room, your hand lingering on his arm for a moment before you let go. You didn’t stop until you were in the hallway, far enough from the dining room that the girls couldn’t hear you.

“You’re gonna have to stop looking like a deer in headlights every time Gabby says something,” you said quietly, your tone soft but firm. “She’s going to figure it out if you keep that up.”

Logan let out a long sigh, leaning against the wall. “I’m tryin’, sweetheart. It’s just…” He trailed off, running a hand through his hair.

“Overwhelming?” you finished for him.

“Yeah. That.” He rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes meeting yours. “I don’t know how to do this. Any of this. I don’t remember gettin’ married or havin’ kids. And now, I’ve got a eleven-year-old givin’ me the third degree and a five-year-old who thinks I hung the moon.”

“They’re your daughters, Logan,” you said softly. “And they adore you. Just… be yourself. You’ve always been a good dad to them. That hasn’t changed.”

Logan looked at you, his expression a mixture of uncertainty and determination. “And you?”

“What about me?” you asked, tilting your head slightly.

“How do I do right by you?” His voice was low, the vulnerability in it catching you off guard.

You stepped closer, your hand brushing his. “You’re already doin’ it,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “We’ll figure this out together. Just like we always do.”

He let out a low huff, leaning his side against the wall, “well, if I have to hear one more word about an axolotl and their gills, I might lose it.”

You leaned into the wall, mimicking Logan’s stance, your lips twitching upward as you adjusted your glasses. “Actually, axolotls have both gills and lungs, so they can breathe underwater and directly from the air. But they rely on their gills more than their lungs because they’re primarily aquatic. Oh, and their gills are those frilly things you see sticking out of their necks—external gills, which are super rare in vertebrates…”

Logan’s eyebrows rose slowly, and a wry grin began to tug at the corner of his mouth as your words spilled out faster than you seemed to realize.

“And did you know,” you continued, your voice picking up slightly as you adjusted your glasses again, “they stay in a juvenile state their whole lives? It’s called neoteny, and—”

Logan finally let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Alright, darlin’, I get it. You’re where Gabby gets it from.”

You paused mid-ramble, your brow furrowing as you looked up at him. “Gets what?”

“The whole talk a mile a minute about stuff that makes the rest of us feel like idiots thing,” he teased, his tone gruff but warm. “She starts goin’ on about somethin’, an’ it’s like watchin’ a little tornado of facts. Now I know where she gets it.”

Your cheeks flushed slightly, a mix of amusement and bashfulness flashing across your face. “I don’t talk that much.”

Logan arched a brow, his grin widening just a touch. “Sure, sweetheart. Keep tellin’ yourself that.”

You huffed, pushing lightly against his chest with the back of your hand, though your lips tugged into a reluctant smile. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but you’re still stuck with me,” he teased, his tone laced with an unexpected softness.

For a moment, you both stood there in the hallway, the din of breakfast chatter echoing faintly behind the door. Logan’s eyes lingered on you, the faint cherry gloss on your lips catching his attention again as sunlight streamed in through the nearby window.

“I really mean it, darlin’,” Logan said after a beat, his voice dipping into something deeper. “You’ve got no idea how much I appreciate you holdin’ this together. All this…” He gestured vaguely, his expression faltering for a second. “It’s a lot to take in.”

Your smile softened, and you reached for his hand instinctively. “We’ve been through worse, Logan. Together. We always find a way.”

Logan’s gaze dropped to your intertwined hands, the touch grounding him. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Always.”

Before the moment could settle further, Scott and Jean walked past the two of you, entering the kitchen. You grabbed Logan’s hand, “c’mon, I want you to see somethin’.”

You pulled Logan to the doorway of the kitchen, motioning for him to stay quiet. His brow furrowed, but he didn’t resist as he leaned slightly into the frame beside you, peeking into the room. Scott was at the counter, pouring himself a fresh cup of coffee, while Jean stood nearby, polishing an apple against her sleeve.

“Why are we standin’ here like—” Logan began, but you held up a finger to shush him.

“Wait for it,” you murmured, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

From behind the island, Gabby and Laura crouched in near-perfect silence. Gabby’s face was alight with glee as Laura whispered instructions, holding a small device that looked suspiciously like something Jones might have helped them cobble together.

Logan squinted. “What the hell are they—”

“Shh!” you hissed, suppressing a grin as Laura pressed a button on the device.

The coffee maker on the counter suddenly sputtered and hissed, steam pouring out in dramatic bursts as it began to shake. Scott froze mid-sip, frowning at the machine.

“What the—” Scott leaned in cautiously, placing his mug down.

With a loud pop, a stream of glitter shot out from the coffee maker, spraying directly onto Scott’s chest and face. His entire upper body sparkled in gold and silver flecks as he stumbled back, coughing in surprise.

Gabby popped up from behind the counter, arms thrown in the air triumphantly. “Success!”

Laura stood beside her, a small, satisfied smirk tugging at her lips. “Glitter bomb: 100% effective.”

Logan stared, wide-eyed, as Scott wiped at his face in a futile attempt to rid himself of the glitter. “Girls,” Scott said, his voice low and measured in a tone that suggested he was summoning all of his patience, “what did I say about tamperin’ with the coffee maker?”

Gabby, undeterred, pointed at him dramatically. “You said don’t do it. But you never said we couldn’t improve it.”

Jean bit into her apple, turning slightly away to hide her laughter behind a hand.

“You let them do this?” Scott asked, glaring at her.

“I let them? Scott, they’re your nieces,” Jean said smoothly, not bothering to hide the amusement in her tone.

“They’re your nieces too!” Scott protested, but Jean just shrugged, taking another bite of her apple.

Logan let out a low chuckle beside you, shaking his head. “They’re somethin’ else.”

You grinned, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “They’re just like you.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, leaning closer. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, you know exactly what it means,” you teased. “You’re as much of a troublemaker as they are. Don’t think I haven’t seen the pranks you’ve pulled.”

“Pranks? Me?” Logan’s expression feigned innocence, though the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement. “Sweetheart, I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Right,” you drawled, clearly unconvinced. “You’ve just coincidentally passed on all your mischief genes to Laura and Gabby?”

Logan let out a soft laugh, his gaze flicking back to the kitchen where Gabby was now dancing around Scott, singing, “Uncle Scott is the glitter king!” at the top of her lungs.

Laura crossed her arms, clearly pleased with her handiwork. “Don’t worry. It’s biodegradable glitter,” she said in a tone that suggested she didn’t actually care about Scott’s glitter predicament but wanted to seem magnanimous.

Scott groaned, his voice rising in frustration. “You two better clean this up. And my shirt. And my—” He gestured vaguely at his glitter-covered face.

Gabby giggled. “Sure, Uncle Scott. Right after breakfast.”

Scott turned to Jean for backup, but she just shrugged again. “You’ll be fine, Scott. You’ve been through worse.”

“Not worse than this,” Scott muttered darkly, picking at a gold fleck on his visor.

You stifled another laugh as Logan crossed his arms, watching the scene unfold with an almost paternal fondness. “They really only prank Summers?”

You nodded, grinning. “Every time. Jean’s always off-limits, but Scott? Fair game. Laura says it builds his character.”

Logan shook his head, still smiling. “Kid’s got my sense of humor, all right.”

“See?” you said, leaning closer to him. “They’re just like you.”

Logan glanced down at you, his expression softening as his gaze lingered. “Guess I’ve got a lot to live up to, huh?”

“You already do,” you said quietly, your hand brushing against his. “More than you know.”

Before Logan could respond, Gabby’s excited voice interrupted. “Mommy! Daddy! Did you see? Uncle Scott’s a walking disco ball!”

You turned just as Gabby bolted toward you both, her small arms outstretched. Logan instinctively crouched to catch her as she launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Did you like it, Daddy?” Gabby asked, her face bright with anticipation.

Logan hesitated, his arms tightening slightly around her as he glanced at you for guidance. You smiled, nodding almost imperceptibly.

“Yeah, kid,” Logan said finally, his voice gruff but warm. “You got him good.”

Gabby beamed, hugging him tighter before pulling back to look at him. “Laura says we should do water balloons next time. But I think paint bombs would be cooler.”

Logan chuckled, standing with her still in his arms. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Gabby.”

Gabby laughed, leaning her head against his shoulder. You watched the two of them, your chest tightening at the sight of Logan holding her so naturally, even if his memories of her weren’t there yet.

Logan caught your eye, his expression unreadable but intense, as if he were trying to piece together the life he couldn’t remember but was already a part of.

For now, you just smiled, stepping closer to place a hand on his arm. “Come on,” you said softly. “Let’s get back in there before Scott recruits you to clean up his glitter.”

Logan let out a low chuckle, his grip on Gabby firm as he followed you back into the kitchen, the warmth of the moment settling around the three of you like a quiet promise.

---

Jean sighed and stepped away, her hands falling from Logan’s temples as she crossed her arms. “I’m sorry, Logan. There’s not much else I can do.”

Logan remained seated, his elbows resting on his knees as his hands clenched together. “So, that’s it? Nothin’? Not even a flicker?”

Jean’s expression softened, but there was a hint of frustration in her voice, more directed at herself than him. “You’ve got a wall in your mind, Logan. One I can’t break through without risking your memories now. If I push too hard, I could do more harm than good.”

He let out a low growl, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Feels like I’m livin’ someone else’s life. Like it ain’t mine.”

“You are living your life,” Jean insisted gently. “This is you. You’re just missing… the journey that got you here.”

Logan ran a hand down his face, leaning back in the chair. His gaze drifted to the floor, but his thoughts were miles away. He could feel the weight of everything—the ring on your hand, the way Gabby called him ‘daddy,’ Laura’s quiet smirk when she saw him, the way you looked at him with such love and familiarity. It wasn’t foreign; it was right. But it was also wrong because he didn’t remember any of it.

Jean knelt beside him, her voice quieter now. “You’ve built something beautiful here, Logan. Something you fought for, even if you can’t remember how. Maybe instead of chasing what’s missing, you should try to live in what’s here.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, his mind battling with itself. Before he could respond, a voice broke the heavy silence.

“Logan?” Your voice was soft but steady from the doorway.

His head snapped up, and for a moment, the tension in his shoulders eased. “Hey, darlin’.”

Jean rose, excusing herself with a subtle nod toward you. As she passed, she gave your arm a gentle squeeze, her own way of offering support, before disappearing down the hall.

You stepped inside, watching Logan closely as you approached. “How are you feeling?”

“Like my head’s been through the ringer,” he muttered, trying to muster a smirk but failing. “Jean couldn’t find much.”

You perched on the arm of the chair, your hand instinctively reaching for his shoulder. “It’s okay,” you said softly, your thumb tracing small circles over his flannel. “You don’t have to remember everything all at once.”

He let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “That’s just it. I don’t remember any of it—marryin’ you, findin’ Laura, havin’ Gabby. None of it’s mine.”

Your heart ached at the rawness in his voice, but you squeezed his shoulder gently. “It is yours. Maybe not in the way you think, but it’s yours, Logan. We’re yours.”

He looked up at you then, his eyes darker, clouded with something you couldn’t quite name. “You’re takin’ this awful well.”

You smiled faintly, brushing a stray curl away from his forehead. “I told you when we got married, remember? That no matter what happens, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Don’t remember that, either,” he admitted gruffly, though there was a flicker of warmth in his voice.

“Well,” you teased lightly, trying to ease the tension, “lucky for you, I do.”

Logan’s hand came up, his fingers brushing against yours where they rested on his shoulder. He didn’t say anything, but the weight of his grip spoke volumes.

You brought him into your side, his head resting below your collarbone on your chest, and a small, bittersweet smile crept onto your lips. “It’s kinda ironic if you think about it.”

Logan’s voice was muffled against you, but there was a familiar gruffness to it. “What is?”

“This,” you said softly, one hand brushing through his hair while the other traced idle circles on his shoulder. “You remember all those lives I don’t, and now we’re here, and I’m the one who remembers… but you don’t.”

Logan let out a humorless chuckle, his arms tightening around your waist. “Yeah, darlin’, real funny.”

“Ironic,” you corrected, the corner of your mouth twitching upward, though the ache in your chest lingered. “Not funny.”

Logan exhaled deeply, his breath warm against your collarbone. “Guess I deserve that, huh? All those times, I remembered you, and now you’re stuck rememberin’ for me.”

You stilled your hand for a moment, then leaned back just enough to make him look at you. His eyes were darker than usual, shadowed with frustration and something deeper you couldn’t name. “You don’t deserve this, Logan,” you said firmly. “Don’t ever think that.”

He searched your face, his jaw tightening as he swallowed hard. “Feels like I do,” he murmured. “Every time I’ve lost you… it’s been my fault somehow. Every damn time. And now—” He cut himself off, shaking his head as though trying to dislodge the thought.

“And now,” you said, finishing for him, “you haven’t lost me.”

Logan’s gaze softened, his thumb brushing unconsciously over the fabric of your shirt where his hand rested on your waist. “Not yet.”

“Not at all,” you said, your voice steady. “You’ve got me, Logan. I’m right here.”

His lips twitched, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “For now.”

You sighed, cupping his cheek and guiding his gaze back to yours when it started to drift. “Logan. Stop. We’ve been married for nearly twenty years. I know this is… a lot. It’s a lot for me, too. But you don’t have to figure it all out today, or tomorrow, or even next week.”

He huffed a small laugh, his hand moving to rest over yours. “You always this patient?”

“Only with you,” you teased gently, though the warmth in your voice was genuine. “So don’t make me regret it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, and for a moment, his smirk was almost real.

You smiled back, letting the silence settle for a few beats before Logan’s arms tightened around you again, pulling you closer. His head rested against your chest, his body warm and solid against yours, and for a moment, you just held him.

---

Footsteps thundered across the broken ground, and then he was there. Logan dropped to his knees beside you, his hands immediately reaching for you, shaking you gently but urgently. “Sweetheart, no, no—open your eyes,” he pleaded, his voice cracking as his hands moved from your face to your shoulders, searching for signs of life.

Your body was limp in his arms, your chest still, your face losing color.

Logan’s breaths came in short, harsh gasps as he pulled you against him, cradling you like you might slip away entirely if he let go. “Y/N,” he whispered, the single word a broken prayer, an unbearable weight of grief choking him. His hands shook as they smoothed over your hair, as though trying to coax you back to him with touch alone.

He didn’t notice Ororo land nearby, didn’t register her sharp intake of breath as she took in the scene. Her hand came up to her mouth, her eyes wide with horror, but she didn’t approach. Behind her, Bobby and Kitty stood frozen, their expressions stricken, but they too stayed back. Even Peter, with his usual strength and calm, had no words.

Logan didn’t care that they were there. Didn’t care about anything except the motionless weight in his arms. He rocked you slightly, his forehead pressing against yours as his ragged breaths turned into choked sobs. “You weren’t supposed to—damn it, you weren’t supposed to do this,” he growled, his voice breaking as he fought against the tears burning in his eyes. “Not this time. Not again.”

Logan pressed his lips to your forehead, his hands shaking as they cupped your face. “Come on, darlin’,” he whispered, his voice soft and cracked. “You’re stronger than this. You’re too stubborn to leave me. Just—just come back.”

The others stood frozen, unable to move, unable to interrupt the devastating scene unfolding before them. Ororo’s hand clutched her chest, tears streaking down her face as she turned away, giving Logan what little privacy she could in this moment of unbearable pain.

But Logan didn’t notice. He couldn’t notice. His world had narrowed to you—the unbearable stillness of your body, the haunting silence that surrounded you now.

He didn’t let go, even as the destruction around them finally began to settle, the last vestiges of Jean’s power fading into nothingness. His arms tightened around you, his forehead pressing to yours again as he whispered brokenly, “I’m sorry. I couldn’t save you. I’m so damn sorry.”

Time seemed to stand still in the worst possible way. For the first time in his long, painful life, Logan felt completely and utterly powerless. The ring he’d carried for over a century burned like a brand against his chest, a cruel reminder of all the promises he’d never been able to keep.

Logan buried his face against your neck, his voice raw as he whispered, “I was gonna tell you. About the ring. About everything. You—you deserved to know.” His thumb brushed over your cheek, as if he could will the life back into you.

He pulled back, his tear-streaked face contorted in anguish as he gazed down at you. “I love you,” he said, his voice breaking on every syllable. “I’ve loved you through every lifetime, and I’ll love you in the next one, too. But please, sweetheart, don’t make me wait again. Not this time. Please.”

His hands trembled as he touched your cheek again, his thumb brushing over your skin like it might bring you back. “I love you,” he repeated, his voice hoarse. “I’ll always love you.”

But you didn’t move. Your chest didn’t rise. You were gone.

Logan’s breath hitched as he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead—one last desperate, lingering moment of tenderness. When he pulled back, his gaze swept over your still features, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and devastation.

Behind him, Ororo, Bobby, Kitty, and Peter stood at a distance, their faces drawn with grief. None of them moved to intervene. They knew better than to intrude on this moment, on Logan’s anguish.

The air felt impossibly heavy as Logan shifted, gathering your lifeless form into his arms. His movements were slow, deliberate, as though handling something too precious to break further. He cradled you close, his head bowing as he let out a shuddering breath. The others watched as he rose to his feet, every muscle in his body screaming in protest, though he showed no sign of it.

“Logan…” Ororo began softly, stepping forward.

He didn’t acknowledge her. His eyes were locked on you, his focus unwavering. Without a word, he turned away, carrying you toward the bridge. There was no Blackbird to take them home—Jean’s power had obliterated it along with so much else—but Logan didn’t seem to care about the logistics. His only concern was you.

---

Logan jerked awake, gasping, his body tense and drenched in cold sweat. The dim light of the bedroom barely illuminated his surroundings, but he didn’t need it to know where he was. The warmth beside him, the faint scent of your cherry lip gloss lingering in the air—those were enough to remind him. This was 2023. You were alive.

He turned his head to look at you, his breathing still uneven. You were curled on your side, your glasses resting on the nightstand, your hand loosely clutching the blanket. Peaceful. Alive.

“Logan?” your voice, soft and drowsy, broke the silence. You stirred, sensing his distress even in your half-asleep state. “What’s wrong?”

He swallowed hard, running a hand down his face. “Nothin’, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice rough and unconvincing. “Go back to sleep.”

But you sat up anyway, your hair slightly mussed, your gaze focusing on him even without your glasses. “You had another nightmare, didn’t you?” You reached out, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “Was it… bad?”

Logan closed his eyes, exhaling shakily. He wanted to lie, to brush it off and tell you he was fine, but the weight of the memory still clung to him like a shadow he couldn’t shake. “Yeah,” he admitted finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

Without hesitation, you slid closer to him, wrapping your arms around his torso. “It’s okay,” you murmured, resting your head against his shoulder. “I’m here.”

His body stiffened at first, the vulnerability of the moment making his instincts scream to pull away, but then he let out a shaky breath and folded you into his arms. The solid warmth of you against him—the weight of your presence—was like a lifeline, anchoring him back to the present.

“I dreamed about… losin’ you,” he said after a long moment, his voice low and raw. “It—it was like I could feel it happenin’ all over again.”

Your heart ached at the pain in his tone, but you didn’t pull back. Instead, you tightened your hold on him, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder. “You didn’t lose me,” you whispered. “I’m right here, Logan.”

His arms tightened around you as though he needed to remind himself you were real. After a few moments, he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching your face like he was memorizing every detail. His hands came up to frame your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks.

“I gotta hold you,” he said, his voice gruff but almost pleading. “Just let me—” His words faltered, and he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was desperate yet tender, like he was pouring all the fear and love in his heart into the connection.

You kissed him back without hesitation, your hands resting on his chest. But when he pulled back only to kiss you again—this time slower, deeper—you pulled away slightly, just enough to catch your breath. “Logan,” you murmured, your voice gentle, “are you sure you’re okay?”

His forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your lips. “Just lemme kiss you, please,” he said softly, his voice almost breaking. “Need to feel you. Need to know you’re here.”

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, but you nodded, your hands sliding up to cup his face. “I’m here,” you whispered, pressing your lips to his again, reassuring him with every touch that you weren’t going anywhere.

Time seemed to stop as you stayed like that, locked in the quiet intimacy of the moment. His hands moved to your waist, holding you securely, while yours stayed on his face, grounding him. Eventually, you pulled back, your noses brushing, your breaths mingling.

“You wanna talk about it?” you asked softly, your fingers tracing soothing patterns along his jawline.

Logan hesitated, his eyes flickering with something raw and unspoken. “Not yet,” he admitted, his voice thick. “Just… don’t leave me tonight, darlin’.”

You shook your head, offering him a soft smile despite the emotion welling in your chest. “I’m not going anywhere,” you promised, wrapping your arms around him again.

---

The Blackbird hummed steadily, the low vibration underscoring the tense silence among the team. You glanced toward Logan, his expression hard and unreadable as he stared out the small window. He hadn’t said much since takeoff, and you didn’t push him. Instead, you’d focused on Jean, who was reviewing the mission details, and Scott, who’d been unusually quiet.

“I can handle this,” Logan had said when you vouched for him earlier. You hadn’t doubted him then, and you didn’t now. But Scott’s skepticism hung heavy in the cabin, evident in every glance he shot Logan’s way.

You let out a soft breath and shifted in your seat, nudging Logan’s arm with your elbow. “Hey,” you said quietly, leaning in. “You good?”

Logan turned his head, his eyes meeting yours for a moment. He nodded, though his jaw stayed tight. “Yeah, sweetheart. I’m fine.”

You didn’t buy it, but you let it go. For now.

Scott’s voice cut through the tension. “We’re approaching the drop zone. Everyone stay sharp. This should be quick, but let’s not get sloppy.”

“Sloppy?” Logan muttered under his breath. “We don’t do sloppy.”

Scott shot him a look from the cockpit but didn’t respond, and you bit back a small smile despite the nerves fluttering in your chest.

---

The mission was supposed to be simple. Extract intel, neutralize threats, and get out. But as usual, things didn’t go as planned.

The team moved as a unit through the labyrinthine corridors of the facility, the dim lighting casting long shadows that danced with every flicker of movement. Logan was at the front, claws out, his senses leading the way. You stayed close, your focus split between him and the others.

“Jean, you got eyes on the server room?” Scott’s voice crackled through the comms.

“About twenty meters ahead,” Jean replied, her voice calm despite the rising tension.

Logan’s claws retracted with a snikt as he held up a hand, signaling everyone to stop. His nose twitched, and his head tilted slightly. “Something’s off,” he murmured, his voice low.

Before anyone could ask what, the ground beneath your feet rumbled, and the corridor ahead exploded in a burst of heat and light. You stumbled back, shielding your face, as alarms blared throughout the facility.

“Damn it!” Scott barked. “It’s a trap!”

Logan was already moving, his claws gleaming as he launched himself toward the first wave of attackers. “Get to the server room!” he shouted over his shoulder. “I’ll clear the way!”

“Logan, wait—” But he was gone, a blur of fury and precision as he tore through the enemy.

You exchanged a quick glance with Jean and Ororo before taking off in the opposite direction with them. The mission had gone sideways, but there was no time to panic. Focus was key.

---

You weren’t sure how long it had been—minutes? Hours? The battle had stretched into chaos, and every step felt like a fight to stay alive. You found yourself separated from the others, the air thick with smoke and the metallic tang of blood.

Your powers buzzed beneath your skin, a familiar warning. You’d been careful not to overuse them, knowing the toll it took, but the situation left you little choice. Cornered by a group of heavily armed soldiers, you raised your hands, time itself seeming to shudder as you concentrated.

The soldiers froze mid-step, their weapons hanging suspended in the air. Sweat beaded on your forehead as you pushed harder, distorting the flow of time around you. The strain was immediate, your body protesting as you manipulated the anomaly.

“Y/N!” Logan’s voice cut through the haze, rough and urgent. He appeared out of the smoke, his claws dripping red. His eyes widened when he saw you, the flickering distortion around you making it clear you were at your limit.

“I’m fine,” you said, though your voice was strained. “Go help the others.”

“Like hell,” Logan growled, rushing to your side. His hand gripped your arm firmly but gently. “Stop this. You’re gonna tear yourself apart.”

“I can handle it,” you insisted, though your knees buckled slightly under the weight of your own power.

Logan didn’t argue. Instead, he scooped you up with a gentleness that belied his strength, cradling you against his chest. The anomaly wavered, then shattered, the soldiers collapsing as time resumed. But the damage was done.

As the world around you stabilized, you felt a strange, disorienting pull in your mind—like something had snapped and splintered all at once.

Logan froze mid-step, a strangled noise escaping his throat. His grip on you tightened as his body went rigid, his breathing shallow and erratic.

“Logan?” you murmured, your voice weak. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer. Couldn’t. His eyes darted wildly as memories surged through his mind—memories that didn’t belong to the man he’d been moments ago.

A wedding. Your smile, brighter than the sun, as you held his hands. The weight of the gold ring he’d finally placed on your finger after lifetimes of waiting.

Laughter. Laura’s tiny hands clutching his shirt as he carried her on his shoulders, her giggles echoing through the halls of the mansion. Gabby’s wide grin as she showed him a picture she’d drawn of the four of you—her family.

Peace. The quiet nights on the porch, your head resting on his shoulder as the stars twinkled overhead.

Love.

A life.

A family.

Logan stumbled, dropping to his knees as the memories overwhelmed him. They were vivid and unrelenting, a rush of emotion and experience that left him gasping for air.

Your hands trembled as you knelt beside Logan, panic bubbling in your chest. His body shook, his breaths coming in sharp, shallow gasps. You reached out, gripping his shoulders. “Logan! Please—what’s wrong? Talk to me!”

He didn’t respond. His eyes were wide and unfocused, darting as though he was watching something invisible and overwhelming. His claws had retracted, his hands pressed flat to the ground like he was trying to anchor himself.

“Logan…” Your voice cracked, tears blurring your vision. “I’m sorry—I don’t know what I did—please, just say something.”

His breath hitched sharply, and he finally looked at you, though his gaze was distant, almost haunted. “I… I can’t—” His voice was rough, fractured, as though he was choking on the words. “It’s… I remember.”

You froze. The blood roaring in your ears was nearly deafening. “What do you mean? Remember what?”

Logan shook his head as if trying to clear it, but his face was pale, his features twisted with a mix of disbelief and something raw—grief? Love? Fear? You couldn’t tell.

“It’s us.” His hands reached for you instinctively, his calloused palms cupping your face. “I see you. I see…” His words faltered, and his gaze flickered like he was staring into a memory you couldn’t reach. “The wedding. Laura. Gabby. God, darlin’, I see all of it. I feel it.”

Your heart clenched, your breath catching in your throat. “You remember this life?” you whispered, your hands resting on his wrists.

Logan’s eyes, normally so sharp and guarded, now brimmed with something far more vulnerable—tears threatening to spill as his gaze bore into yours. “Yeah,” he rasped, his voice rough, choked. “Not just bits and pieces… all of it.”

Tears continued to blur your vision as you searched his face, struggling to process his words. His hands stayed on your face, steady even though they were trembling slightly, and his eyes darted over yours like he was trying to memorize every detail, afraid you might vanish if he looked away for even a second.

“Logan…” Your voice wavered, the weight of the moment pressing down on your chest. “You… remember everything?”

He nodded, the movement jerky, uncoordinated. “Yeah. Every damn thing,” he rasped, his voice thick with emotion. “I remember… us. Our life. Laura. Gabby. The day I put this ring on your finger.” His thumb brushed against the gold band on your left hand, his expression flickering between awe and devastation. “I remember it all, darlin’. And it’s like I’ve been livin’ two lives at once.”

Your heart twisted, torn between relief and worry. Relief that he was remembering the life you’d built together—your family, your home—but worry because you knew what this meant for him. Logan wasn’t just remembering. He was reconciling two lifetimes, one full of loss and pain, and one where he’d finally found peace.

You cupped his face now, your hands trembling against his rough, stubbled cheeks. “Logan,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the distant sounds of the fight still raging in the facility. “You’re here. You’re with me. With us. And that’s all that matters.”

His eyes stayed locked on yours, and you could see the storm of emotions swirling behind them—grief, guilt, love, hope. “It’s real,” he said, almost like he needed to hear it to believe it. “This… all of it… it’s real. I didn’t lose you this time.”

“No,” you murmured, tears spilling freely now. “You didn’t lose me. You’ve got me, Logan. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

His hands tightened ever so slightly on your face, his forehead lowering until it rested gently against yours. His breath hitched, and you felt the faintest tremor run through him. “I lost you six times, sweetheart. Six times. I held you in my arms while you—” His voice broke, and he sucked in a sharp breath like he was trying to keep himself together. “I can’t… I can’t lose you again. I won’t.”

“You won’t,” you said firmly, brushing your thumbs over his cheeks. “You won’t, Logan. This is our life. Our family. And you’re not gonna lose me. Not now, not ever.”

For a long moment, the two of you just stayed like that, kneeling on the cold floor in the middle of a war zone, holding on to each other like the rest of the world had ceased to exist.

Finally, Logan spoke again, his voice quieter now, though no less weighted. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, his tone raw. “I remember us, but I don’t… I don’t feel like the man you married. I don’t feel like Laura and Gabby’s dad.”

Your heart ached at his words, but you held his gaze, your own resolve strengthening. “You are the man I married,” you said softly but firmly. “You’re the same Logan who’s been by my side for twenty years, who’s been an amazing father to Laura and Gabby, who’s built this life with me. I know it doesn’t feel that way right now, but it will. You’ll remember not just with your head, but with your heart, too. I promise.”

He closed his eyes briefly, exhaling shakily before nodding. “I hope you’re right, darlin’,” he murmured. “Because I don’t wanna screw this up.”

“You won’t,” you assured him. “We’ll figure it out together.”

Another explosion sounded in the distance, and Logan’s head whipped around, his instincts kicking in. “We gotta move,” he said gruffly, helping you to your feet. ��You okay to walk?”

“I’m fine,” you said, though your legs wobbled slightly as the adrenaline began to wear off. Logan steadied you with a hand on your waist, his touch firm but careful.

“Let’s find the others,” he said, his voice steadying as he slipped back into mission mode. But before you could take a step, he stopped, turning back to you. His hand cupped your cheek again, his eyes soft but serious. “I love you,” he said, the words rough but filled with conviction. “I just… I needed to say it.”

Your breath caught, but you smiled, leaning into his touch. “I love you, too,” you said, your voice trembling with emotion. “Always.”

He nodded once, then released you, his claws sliding out with a familiar snikt. “Stay close,” he said, his tone low and protective as he led the way down the corridor. And though the chaos of the mission loomed ahead, you felt a flicker of hope—because no matter what, you were facing it together.

---

Once back at the mansion, the first things you saw were Laura and Gabby standing by Rogue, waiting for the others to clear the jet before you and Logan stepped off.

Gabby was the first to make a move, walking at a brisk pace until Logan finished climbing down the stairs and kneeled down, “c’mere princess.”

She let out a happy squeal and ran the rest of the way, launching herself into Logan’s arms. “You haven’t called me that in ages!”

Laura walked over to the three of you, giving you a short hug from the side, “weeks, Gabby, weeks.”

Gabby removed herself from Logan’s chest, turning to face her sister, “that’s ages Laura!”

Laura crossed her arms, her eyebrow arched in exaggerated disbelief. “It’s weeks, Gabby. Don’t be so dramatic.”

Logan chuckled, low and gravelly, still kneeling on the hangar floor. His hands rested lightly on Gabby’s shoulders as she spun back around to look at him, her big, expressive eyes narrowing in mock irritation.

“Well, she’s right about one thing,” Logan said, ruffling Gabby’s hair. “I haven’t been callin’ you ‘princess’ like I should.”

Gabby beamed, throwing her arms around his neck again. “It’s okay, Daddy. I forgive you!”

Behind them, you stood near the ramp, watching the scene with a mix of relief and warmth. Logan caught your eye over Gabby’s shoulder, his gaze softening as it locked on yours. For a moment, it was like the rest of the world disappeared.

Laura’s voice broke the spell. “You’re forgiven this time,” she said with a teasing smirk as she stepped closer. “But Gabby’s gonna milk it for at least a week. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Logan straightened, a hand resting on Gabby’s back as he looked at Laura with that gruff, fatherly affection he’d perfected. “Yeah, well, I reckon I can handle that.”

Gabby grinned triumphantly, glancing between her sister and her dad. “See? Told you I’m his favorite.”

Logan groaned, shaking his head as he rose to his feet, lifting Gabby effortlessly in his arms. “Don’t start that, kiddo. I got room for both of you troublemakers.”

Gabby giggled, but Laura rolled her eyes. “Nice save, Dad.”

You chuckled softly, stepping forward now that the moment felt a little less overwhelming. “Alright, you two,” you said, your voice warm but firm. “Let’s get inside. Everyone’s probably waiting, and your dad looks like he could use a break.”

Logan gave you a small, appreciative smile, one that lingered longer than usual, like he was drinking in every detail of you standing there. He shifted Gabby to his hip and reached out with his free hand, his calloused fingers brushing yours briefly as you both turned toward the mansion.

The walk back was filled with Gabby’s chatter, Laura’s sarcastic commentary, and Logan’s occasional grunt of amusement. But as the four of you crossed the threshold into the warmth of the mansion, you could feel the shift in Logan—a quiet resolve mixed with the raw emotion still simmering beneath the surface.

Once the girls were out of earshot, you tugged gently on Logan’s sleeve, pulling him aside into the quieter hallway. His brows furrowed slightly, but he let you guide him, his hand instinctively finding its way to your waist.

“Logan,” you started softly, looking up at him as the distant echoes of the mansion’s activity faded. “Are you okay?”

Logan’s jaw tensed, his eyes searching yours as though weighing his answer. The soft glow of the mansion’s lights illuminated his face, highlighting the exhaustion and turmoil etched into his features. He let out a low sigh, the sound heavy with emotion, before his hand slid from your waist to cradle the side of your face.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice rough but honest. “It’s like... I’ve been livin’ someone else’s life for weeks. Like it was mine but not mine, ya know? And now…” He paused, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek, his brow furrowing. “Now it’s all there. Every moment. Every damn thing. I remember our girls, our wedding, us. And it’s... it’s real. But it feels like it shouldn’t be. Like it’s a dream I’m gonna wake up from any second.”

Your heart clenched at the raw vulnerability in his voice. You reached up, covering his hand with yours, grounding him. “It’s not a dream, Logan. This is real. We’re real. Laura and Gabby are real. You’re their dad, my husband, and the man who’s been by my side through everythin’. You’ve got us, and we’ve got you.”

His eyes softened, but there was still a shadow of doubt lingering in them. “Feels like I’ve been walkin’ around with a piece missin’, and now it’s slammed back into place all at once. It’s almost too much.”

You stepped closer, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head against his chest. His heart thundered beneath your ear, fast and unsteady, but his arms came around you like they always had, holding you tightly. “You don’t have to figure it all out tonight,” you murmured. “We’ll take it one step at a time. Together.”

Logan buried his face in your hair, his breath hitching as he clung to you. “I missed this,” he said, so quietly you almost didn’t catch it. “Even when I didn’t know what I was missin’, I missed this.”

You smiled against his chest, your tears dampening the fabric of his shirt. “You’re home now,” you whispered. “That’s what matters.”

He nodded against you, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. “You’re somethin’ else, ya know that?” he said, his lips twitching into a faint, almost self-conscious smile. “Don’t deserve you.”

“You’re wrong,” you said firmly, your hand coming up to rest against his cheek. “We deserve each other. And we deserve this life we’ve built. It hasn’t been perfect, Logan, but it’s ours. And it’s worth every fight.”

Logan’s hand slid to the small of your back, his thumb tracing lazy circles there. His gaze held yours for a long moment before he dipped his head, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “Thanks, darlin’,” he murmured. “For not givin’ up on me.”

“Never,” you said softly, a smile tugging at your lips. “Now, let’s get back to the girls. They’ll probably think we’re plotting something if we’re gone too long.”

Logan huffed a quiet laugh, the sound easing some of the tension in his expression. “Yeah, don’t need Gabby comin’ up with some wild theory about why we’re takin’ our time.”

You chuckled, threading your fingers through his as you began walking back toward the living area. “She’d have us starring in some kind of superhero soap opera.”

“Kid’s got a hell of an imagination,” Logan muttered, though there was unmistakable fondness in his tone.

As the two of you reached the living room, Laura and Gabby looked up from the couch where they were sprawled out with popcorn and a movie on the screen. Gabby’s face lit up when she saw you, and she patted the spot next to her enthusiastically. “C’mon, Daddy! We saved you a seat!”

Logan glanced at you, his lips quirking in a small, grateful smile. “Think I better take her up on that,” he murmured.

“You better,” you teased, giving him a nudge. “I’ll grab some drinks and join you.”

He squeezed your hand once before letting go, striding over to settle between his daughters. Gabby immediately curled up against him, and Laura leaned over to steal a piece of his popcorn, earning a mock growl from him.

As you watched the three of them together, laughter bubbling up from the couch, you felt a deep sense of peace settle over you. Logan might still be navigating the storm in his mind, but he was here. And with time, you knew he’d come to fully embrace the life he’d found again.

and it's a happy ever after!!

this was meant to be much shorter. actually, i originally wasn't going to include logan getting his memories back and just make that into a bonus chapter but i couldn't stand it. if it's gonna be a happy ever after i had to go all the way.

and i have i have an idea of how they found laura that does not involve the logan movie. cause, no, no, no, they are getting their happy ending.

with that in mind, again, if anyone is interested in reading about how reader and logan got married, found laura, had gabby, let me know! or, if you have any ideas of stories you want me to tell with reader and logan don't be afraid to ask! (i might have already started writing for the alternate timeline...)

[russellsppttemplates]

It is what it is (Lando Norris)

It takes Lando a while to notice how you always assume he has something else to do whenever you need his help

Note: english is not my first language. It's slightly angsty but has a good ending! ✨️ is this good, is this bad? I'm not too sure

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Cw: alludes to the lack of quality time between a couple

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

"Look at you, beautiful girl", Lando twirled you as he stepped inside your bedroom, noticing you were getting ready, "are you going somewhere?".

"Yes, I have an appointment at my optometrist", you smiled, "Anna should be here soon to take me".

"Is it a joint appointment?", Lando squinted.

"No, you muppet", you giggled, "my optometrist needs some exams on my eyes, so I have to today because that's when the ophthalmologist is there and they recommended that I had someone take me there because they want to dilate my pupils and, depending on how it goes, my sight might be a little affected for a couple of hours", you offered, making sure you had everything you needed to take.

"You could've told me and I would've taken you", Lando added, accepting the kiss you placed on his lips.

"I thought you had a meeting this afternoon", you reasoned.

"I do, but I could have moved that around a little and fit everything into the schedule", he reasoned back.

"It's okay, don't worry about that", you mused, "That's Anna - bye, handsome!", you kissed his lips one last time before making your way out and downstairs to meet your friend.

The ride to the office wasn't long, you and Anna taking the time to catch up and learn about the new gossips she had to update on you.

"And how's Lando? I haven't seen him in a while", Anna stated after you sat in the empty waiting room waiting to be called.

"He's been busy lately - he has a meeting today with the team, they're also launching a new collection for Quadrant and they're investing a lot in the social media content, so he's been busy recording a lot of videos and stuff", you offered, never shy whenever it came to talk proudly about your boyfriend's achievements, "and we're also on the countdown for the season to begin, so there's training and meetings and all that".

"Sounds like a busy schedule, no wonder why I haven't seen him - I'm surprised you even see him at all", she joked, grabbing her phone once she remembered she had something to show you.

You were surprised yourself at every bit of time you were able to spend with Lando, as lately it had become near impossible to do so apart from sleeping in the same bed, and even that was rare as he was often travelling between Monaco and England on a weekly basis.

"Ms. Y/N Y/L/N?", the doctor called you before you stepped inside the exam room, starting with the procedures.

The check up itself didn't take long despite the twenty five minute wait for the drops to dilate your pupils, "Don't forget your sunglasses, Y/N!", the secretary reminded you before you stepped outside.

"Thank you, have a good afternoon", you smiled before tapping Anna's shoulder, "Give me your arm so I won't trip", you mumbled.

"Is your sight that bad? The doctor said it should be good enough", Anna worried as she was about to open the door.

"No, it's fine, but if I'm clumsy on any good day, imagine how probable it is for me to fall on some stupid step or raised cobblestone", you argued as you both chuckled, making your way to her car.

Before you went home, your friend stopped by the pharmacy to get you the relief eye drops you'd have to follow the medication regimen with for the next few days, stopping by your favourite bakery so you could enjoy some sweet pastries.

"Can you even read these prescriptions?", Anna asked as she read the regimen you had to comply with.

"Stop making fun of me, you say that as if I'm almost blind", you swatted her arm before reading - trying to - the words, "fucking hell, am I?".

"I can barely read them myself, Y/N! They're so tiny I don't know how they give these to eye patients! Is Lando going to be home soon? That way he can help you with this", she suggested.

"Can I even see the time? At least that", you mumbled as you looked at the large numbers on your phone, "he'll probably take a while still - I can set the alarms on my phone and I'll memorise the different drops", you tapped your head.

Once it was all settled and you assured Anna she was fine to go home and you'd be perfectly well on your own, you walked her to the door before going back to the living room as the sun was no longer shinning outside and you could lay down on the sofa.

The nap you were taking was cut short by the door being shut, making you rub your forehead before an alarm rang. Getting up to head to the bathroom where you kept the supplies, you found Lando taking his trainers off.

"Hi baby, how was your appointment?", he asked as he put the footwear away.

"It was good, need to go and apply my drops", you smiled, turning the light on and grabbing the right box of medication.

"Is that what the alarm was for? I thought we had gotten a new security system I was not aware of", Lando joked as he watched you wash your hands.

"Yes, these instructions are so small to read that Anna thought it would be best to have alarms so I wouldn't mess it up since it's still a little bit blurry", you mused.

"Do you want me to do it?", Lando offered.

"No, it's fine - I'll have to do this for the next 48 hours anyway, so I might as well get used to it", you stopped talking so you could apply them, almost holding your breath until the drops fell.

"My lovie", Lando whispered on your ear once he felt it was okay to approach you, hugging your mid section from behind and kissing your neck as you put your hands on top of his.

.

You were adding the finishing touches on the present wrapping, the shiny gold string fiddling between your fingers as you tried to tie a bow with it around the paper bag handle, when Lando stepped inside your home office.

"That's looking pretty", he mused as he handed you the tape you were looking for on your desk.

"Thank you", you offered before placing the sticky piece down, "the bag is quite plain and even though the present inside is what will get her attention, it should come in nice wrapping".

"Who is this for?", Lando asked.

"It's for Maya's birthday tonight", you smiled, admiring your work.

"Is that tonight? Fuck, this week has flown by", Lando cursed, "I can't make it - will you let her know, please? I'm sorry I can't go", Lando pouted, "if she has to pay for having made the reservation with me in it, let me know and I'll pay my part!".

"I had already told her I'd be going alone, so she made my reservation without a plus one", you mused, remembering the conversation that came around the time of booking the venue.

Lando was leaving late in the afternoon for a trip with Max, Ria and some of the Quadrant athletes, so like you predicted, he couldn't attend the dinner with you.

"Oh", Lando offered.

"Max told me about your plans and when Maya told me the date, I assumed you wouldn't be able to go", you explained with a tinge of sadness and conformity in your voice.

"Well, it seems you guessed right", Lando chuckled despite the uneasy feeling on his chest.

You seemed sad that he wouldn't be able to join you, but at the same time you didn't? Lando put the topic at the back of his mind for now, heading to the bedroom so he could pack the last minute things.

"I was thinking of wearing this dress", you said once you joined him inside a while later, taking the steamer out of your drawer and setting it up to get out any kinks and wrinkles.

"That one is one of my favourites on you, but then again, they all are, I think", Lando mused, kissing your cheek as you waited for the steamer to be up for use.

"Figured it would be a little cold out tonight, so I chose this one, and that coat over there", you pointed.

"You'll be the most beautiful in that room", your boyfriend complimented, pecking your lips before he let you continue your task.

A couple hours later, Lando found himself restless as he scrolled through the posts and stories of Maya's birthday dinner, "Ria", he called, "what would you think if your partner made plans without you because they figured you wouldn't be able to go anyway?".

Ria exchanged a look with Max and Tara before she spoke, "did they ask me if I could go?", she offered.

"They didn't, but truth be told it's not like you have given them much to believe that you could join them", Lando mumbled the last part.

"I think I'd be a more 'it is what it is' at the start if I saw that it was something out of their reach, but I'm not sure I'd put up with it if it was genuine disinterest from them", Ria explained.

"It's not disinterest! They're just busy and shit at organising their schedules", Lando groaned defensively.

"Okay, okay", Ria calmed the room down once Max squinted his eyes at his bestfriend, "then I guess they would have to make sure they do better", she shrugged, "is everything alright?".

"Yes, yes, sorry for snapping just then", Lando offered her a tight lipped smile.

Everyone carried on with what they were doing before the existencial question, Max seemingly as stuck on it as Lando, "is this an hypothetical thing or are we calling people by their names and working this out?", he whispered to Lando.

"It's fine, just a loose thought I had there", Lando grumbled.

.

Lina 🤎

Hi, Y/N!

You won't bother, don't worry - I think I miss having someone other than my boyfriend to talk to 😅

Would it be okay if you visited in the afternoon? Our morning routine is still a shitshow (literally and figuratively), so we would appreciate it if you came after her first nap, around two pm?

One of Lando's older couple friends had a baby a couple of weeks ago, and while you were dying to meet their baby boy as soon as he came earthside, you were respectful of their adjustment period so you waited for them to be up for visitors and were ready to comply with whatever schedule they offered.

"It smells nice in here", Lando commented as he stepped inside the kitchen, "what delicious food are you making and can I please have a bite?".

"I made a little tray for us, but the big one is to take for Lina and Theo - I can imagine they don't have much time for cooking, so food is welcomed by them", you smiled, setting the cheese grater down once the measurements were like the recipe stated.

"Are you going to visit today? I have some streaming with Max scheduled for this afternoon", Lando added.

"Lina told me that this afternoon was the only time they could handle some visits - you know how it is with new parents and newborns and all of that -, I didn't want to change their schedule when I have some flexibility with my schedule", you explained, "I'll give the little one a big kiss from you, then?".

"Well, in that case, I should give you two big kisses then - one for you", he kissed your lips once, "and then this one for the little one", he smiled before kissing you again.

You shared lunch in a semi comfortable silence, Lando telling you a bit about the stream they would be doing and you sharing some work updates from your end.

When Lando gets a text in the middle of watching Max send his virtual car to the curb, "who might that be that's brought such a big smile to your face?".

Lando checked the photo to make sure the baby's face was covered despite his friends having already posted him, tuning the phone to show the camera, "Y/N met our friends' baby boy for the first time", Lando gushed.

"That's the little nugget", Max cooed, "she looks very happy with a baby on her arms", he wiggled his eyebrows, "have you met him already?".

"No, I haven't yet! She could only go this afternoon and we had this so...", Lando tsked, admiring the picture one last time before setting the phone back down. The baby was perfectly nestled on your arms, hiding his face on your chest as you looked down at him with a big smile on your face.

Now that he thought about he, he hadn't seen such a big smile in quite some time, and he was really starting to believe he was the reason behind it. He was absent, more than usual and more than the standards of your relationship considering his job.

The air had shifted around you once you came back from meeting Lina's little boy and Lando could only pinpoint it to the subject he thought about earlier.

"Lan, did you hear what I said?", you asked as you showed him another picture of you touching your noise in the little boy's.

"It's just... are we okay, baby?", Lando questioned. Even though it seemed like he was the only one that felt there was something wrong - different at least -, surely you had noticed it too.

"What makes you say that?", you asked.

From the serious tone, your boyfriend mentally slapped himself. Whatever it was, he was on the wrong and you had indeed noticed it too.

"I've noticed you don't ask me for help with stuff like driving you somewhere or accompanying you to places, which is fine if you want to do things on your own, I'm not saying you can't have your own independence, you know I'm not controlling you in that way - obviously! Fuck, I'm rambling! What I mean is, I have been taking notice that you just assume that I'm not available, and your assumptions are not unfounded, and it makes you sad, and I myself am upset that it has reached this point", Lando stated.

"It's not great, I can tell you that, but we knew it would be like this, your schedule is not the regular nine to five - it is what it is, Lan", you argued.

"But it's not, not all the time anyway! I want you to know you can always count on me!", Lando stated, "Y/N, you are one of my priorities and I never want to let you down - I'm going to make sure that from now on I spend more time with you and that I'm by your side a lot more", he rubbed your palm, "damn, I was so stupid, I'm sorry, lovie".

"Lando, these things happen", you attempted, "now we can work on it".

"You can count on me for little and big things in life - you need to go to the post office? I'm there helping you put the letter in the box. Dinner with your friends? I'll find it in the schedule to go and I don't care who I have to tell no to!", he pointed his finger, "I never ever want you to feel like you don't belong in my life or like I don't want to be involved in yours, Y/N - I'm so so so sorry that it took me so long to notice it".

"It's in the past", you smiled, pecking his lips softly, "now, look at this cute little nugget, he's so cute, we have to go there another day so you can meet him, and I think Theo won't mind another traybake".

[https-milo]

so excited to know ur willing to do a jjk insta thing, can i pretty pretty please get a megumi one 💕💕

*rubs my hands in mischievous delight* i've been waiting to do a jjk insta thingy

DATING MEGUMI FUSHIGURO INSTAGRAM!

details!

Instagram posts w/ comments while dating Megumi Fushiguro

a/n OBVIOUSLY these are just pictures off of pinterest, reader can be however you imagine!

m. list

yappstery/n · 12w

1.8k likes Liked by yujiitadorki, modelnoba

yappstery/n wild yapper in a library for the first time in years 😣😣

fushiguro.m you like reading? yappstery/n fushiguro.m not really 😣 I have to studyyyy and our dear upperclassmen are being bullies and not helping me ://// fushiguro.m yappstery/n oh. what do you need help with? yappstery/n fushiguro.m literature :(((((^2 fushiguro.m yappstery/n come to my dorm. I'll help I guess. yappstery/n fushiguro.m SAY ON MY LIFE RN. fushiguro.m yappstery/n just get over here oml. no time for dramatics if you wanna pass.

thehonored1 get to work. stop procrastinating on instagram. yappstery/n thehonored1 I have some fighting words for you, sensei

yappstery/n · 10w

1.9k likes Liked by yujiitadorki, modelnoba, fushiguro.m, and makiz

yappstery/n our study hangouts have taken a floral shift since spring came :D

Tagged: fushiguro.m

yujiitadorki such a pretty princess fushiguro~~ yappstery/n yujiitadorki I know rightttt ;D fushiguro.m yujiitadorki you have 10 minutes. fushiguro.m yappstery/n i told you to delete this.

fushiguro.m i hope you fail the assignment. yappstery/n fushiguro.m then all our hard studying will be for not :(

yappstery/n · 9w

2.1k likes Liked by fushiguro.m, yujiitadorki, thehonored1, modelnoba, and inumakispeaks

yappstery/n sleeping on trains with the tutorrrrrrrr :DD 📸: modelnoba

modelnoba you're lucky my photography skills are so good yappstery/n modelnoba MWAH MWAH!! thanks nobs <33

fushiguro.m send this to me. yappstery/n fushiguro.m YES OFC

fushiguro.m · 7w

1.3k likes Liked by yujiitadorki, modelnoba, thehonored1, and makiz

fushiguro.m helping bae get his manga 😽😽 - Y/n

yappstery/n aww megs i cant believe you'd post me so cutely!! fushiguro.m yappstery/n k. yappstery/n fushiguro.m 😽😽😽😽

thehonored1 /makiz 20 bucks right NEOWWWW makiz thehonored1 there is a strong sense of hatred in my heart for you.

yappstery/n ·3w

2.1k likes Liked by yujiitadorki, thehonored1, makiz, modelnoba, and inumakispeaks

yappstery/n he surprised me with a cute little date in a forest! he let me yap to him for HOURS! it was so relaxing :( I love him so much <33

fushiguro.m listening to you talk is my favorite part of my day. all day, every day, any day yappstery/n fushiguro.m COME BACK HERE AND SAY THAT TO MY FACE BETWEEN KISSES RIGHT NOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW fushiguro.m yappstery/n omw nerd yappstery/n fushiguro.m ❤️❤️

todo.aoi does she have an unshakeable character? fushiguro.m todo.aoi absolutely.

© https-milo. please do not repost, steal, copy, or modify my works!

Thank you so much for reading <3

[landograndprix]

╰┈➤ ❝ desire • l.n c.l ❞ iii

part two - part four

➪ Charles hasn't paid much attention to you after your daughter was born but a certain Brit does.

➪ the attention is nice even if it's not from Charles.

➪ established relationship mom!reader x dad!Charles x lando

➪ let's add some spice ☺ again, thanks for the love, love reading your guys thoughts and talk about it 🥰 google translate is my bestest friend

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y/nusername

📍 Baku, Azerbaijan

liked by landonorris, noellepicard and 561,999 others

y/nusername day 'n night ☀️🌛

tagged: charles_leclerc, manon_roux

view all 1,672 comments

charliecharlie mother being back on the grid and serving cunt again made my day <3

leclerc_16 CHARLES POLE WHOOP WHOOOP 🤩

norrizz will you be at the race tomorrow?

↳ y/nusername yes ☺

charloslesainz I'm seeing a camera..vlogging, did lando influence you for a jpg account? 👀

noellepicard bring my baby girl back, I miss her

↳ y/nusername she's packing her bags as we speak, putting her on the first flight back

noellepicard will be waiting for her

y/ncharles they grow up so fast 😫

lestappen116 hoping for a charles win tomorrow!

carlandooo zoë being the cutest once again ❤️

julieeeexo girl you have to tell us mamma's how you manage traveling with a baby, already dreading my 4 hours flight in 1 months 😭

↳ y/nusername what do you think the camera is for babes? 👀

yukisan I'm not a mom but I'll be watching these videos religiously

landonorris upsetting

↳ y/nusername I will not put my daughter in mclaren merch

landonorris the betrayal is unreal

norry4 lando trying to make zoë a mclaren baby is such a lando thing to do 💀

➽────────────────────────❥

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y/nusername

📍 Monte-Carlo, Monaco

liked by landonorris, noellepicard and 316,678 comments

y/nusername 🛀

view all 1,816 comments

charliecharlie MOM?!?!

bott_ass now THAT is a milf 👀

noellepicard oh my god, zoë her mom got it going on 🥵

↳ y/nusername so does her aunt 😍

noellepicard stop it, you're going to make me blush

leonardb Charles is one lucky man

norrizz mommy? no. mommy? sorry. mommy? no– 😫

stephan00 gaddamn I love milfs

tommyf Charles could you do us a favor and fumble this one and give us lads a chance?

↳ norry4 nah all these men in the comments have me crying tears lmfao

yukisan just saw a guy comment 'I'm 18 but real mature for my age' 💀

norry4 like did they not notice y/n being fine as hell on TV? 💀

yukisan she ain't showing so much skin during interviews though 😂

francisca.cgomes stunning 😍

↳ y/nusername you are 😍

manon_roux man I love milfs

↳ noellepicard we've been known babes, it's the hitting on every single mom you meet that gave it away

manon_roux imagine being attracted to men

noellepicard not by choice unfortunately

hamilt44n everyday I learn a bit more about this group of friends and they come out more unhinged everytime

robyn_diaz what a hottie 🔥

↳ landoscar babe are you blind, your man is hiding in the likes

➽────────────────────────❥

➽────────────────────────❥

y/nusername

📍 Monte-Carlo, Monaco

liked by landonorris, francisca.cgomes and 324,567 likes

y/nusername the homebody club 🍼🍷

view all 1,672 comments

julieeeexo nothing better than being at home 🥰

norrizz you and me bestie, can I join the club?

leclerc_16 I'd love for you to give us some book recommendations because goddamn, that's the book collection of my dreams 😭

↳ carlito55 I second that and cooking videos!

ricric yeah why don't we make her a boring ass influencer mom? I mean she's well on her way, she's become so boring 💀

carlito55 why are you still here then if it bothers you so much..I rather be a boring loving mom than be like you 🤮

leclerc_16 sorry that your life is so miserable that you feel the need to drag others down.

manon_roux now that's a club I want to be at 🕺

↳ y/nusername we only serve the good milk, cold coffee and luke warm wines

landonorris turn up in the club 🍼

norry4 I am so confused lmfao, they really became besties huh?

lewisham I want you to adopt me like right now 😔

sainzcarlos her recent content is giving ✨ single mom ✨ not one mention of charles or anything..

↳ yukisan the season is not over yet, Charles is still racing..I'm sure they'll be spending plenty of time together during the winter break

arthuuuur fr and the fact that lando is in her comments and liking every single post isn't helping either 💀

charlesgirlies so you guys know when they are together or not? So you know when they call each other or not? pretty sure she mentioned 'facetiming daddy' in her last vlog but okay

landonorris still no papaya

↳ y/nusername thank god no ☺

robyn_diaz stop turning this cutie into a mclaren fan 😂

➽────────────────────────❥

➽────────────────────────❥

y/nusername posted to their story

➽────────────────────────❥

➽────────────────────────❥

y/nusername

📍 Monte-Carlo, Monaco

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 419,782 others

y/nusername pjs kinda day 💤

view all 1,190 comments

charlesgirlies can I join, love me a pjs kinda day!

noellepicard okay but like..where was my invite? 😔

charliecharlie where'd you get your pjs from?

↳ leclerc_16 you should follow this account that steals y/n her outfits!

charles_leclerc ❤️

↳ hamilt44n oh look he's still alive

norry4 haven't seen you here in a while

y/nusername ❤️

sharl16 cuties 😍

bott_ass the best kind of days!

manon_roux matching with the babe again

↳ y/nusername always 🥰

charloslesainz just y/n and her mini me 🥰

➽────────────────────────❥

Everything taglist; @thomaslefteyebrow @hopefulinlove @smoothopz @honethatty12 @cixrosie @parkersmjs @ireadthensuetheauthors @celestialams @be-your-coffee-pot @heli991113 @kodzuvk @reality-is-a-con @80sloverry @bibissparkles @myescapefromthislife @lanando4 @elliegrey2803 @ravisinghs-wife @harrysdimple05 @minkyungseokie @pretty-little-bunny382728 @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @severewobblerlightdragon

Desire taglist; @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @writingworlds @chezmardybum @lewisvinga @xjval @fanficweasley @rockyhayzkid @aundercover @thecubanator2 @minchedchilli @crimeshowjunkie @alisoncasey21 @eeviepepi08 @shamelesspotatos @sleepybrokenmelle @leireggsworld @janeholt3 @iamahalicinationn @dessxoxsworld @kapsylia @22yuki @dark-night-sky-99 @sheslikeacurse @nerdreader @champagneproblems17 @norwayxo @sunny44

Lando taglist: @beatricemiruna @simp-for-fictional-people @landossainz @christianpulisic10 @bored-brunette2

[slimybeth69]

"i'll be here."

rating: explicit- for drinking and joel's dirty thoughts. This is pure fluff NO SMUT and it's probably kinda corny but I DON'T CARE.

summary: Joel wants to make sure your New Years Eve isn't lonely.

tags: jackson!joel, Joel's POV, no use of y/n, no physical description (just an outfit) fluff, so much fluff, pining, age gap, him being handsome and perfect, mentions of food, drinking, being intoxicated so maybe dub-con (but not really)

w/c: ~3.6k

a/n: the holiday was hard as hell this year and it really didn't feel like christmas at all, so i wrote this for myself because i was sad. i hope any of you all that needed Joel to come and sing you songs and play gui-tar find some comfort in this.

thanks for @creepycorbeaux for reading this over. thanks to @thelastofgala for those beautiful gifs and thanks to @saradika-graphics for the dividers.

Joel wasn’t exactly sure what he was doing walking to your house with a bottle of whiskey in one hand, and his guitar in the other, but he couldn’t stop thinking about what you had said last night on patrol. 

“Whaddya end up doin’ f’Christmas?” 

The face you make when you look over at him almost makes Joel smirk for a split second. The way your nose scrunches and the corners of your mouth turn down slightly. Like you’re confused and upset with him ,and all he did was ask you a simple question.

Then you respond, “Whachya mean?” 

Joel doesn’t know how to answer that because… what do you mean? Your eyes are still squinted— like there is some sort of distrust in your soul. Like Joel is playing a joke on you right now.

“Uh, well… Ellie and I went to Tommy and Maria’s...” Joel is uncomfortable suddenly; he forgets that not everyone is as lucky as he is to have family here in Jackson. He doesn’t know you nearly well enough, so now he feels like an ass. He shouldn’t be asking you anything like that.

Or anything at all not pertaining to patrol. 

You don’t say anything for a while, you just hold onto the strap of your rifle over your shoulder, and then adjust your grasp on the reins with your other hand. “I just stayed home,” you answer him quietly, almost like you don’t really want him to hear you. “Made myself a nice dinner, read a book and went to bed.” 

That ‘put your foot in your mouth’ feeling creeps into Joel’s stomach and he wants to ask if you’d like to give him a nice rocket to his left jaw. He doesn’t stay quiet for too long, he doesn’t want you sitting in this awkward smog he’s created. “That doesn’t sound t’bad, honestly. Whaddya make?” 

Joel watches you out of the corner of his eye as you once again adjust the reins in your hand, waiting for you to either respond to his question or tell him to shut the fuck up. 

He wishes you would tell him to screw off because he never tries to make small talk, and this is why! He always regrets it!

“Just a venison roast with veggies from the greenhouse.” You finally tell him with a little more life in your voice this time, like you were actually proud of what you cooked yourself. “What did you and Ellie do at Tommy and Maria’s?” 

“Had a few drinks, ate some food. Nothin’ crazy.”

Joel didn’t have the heart to tell you that Tommy and him spent most of the day drinking and reminiscing, laughing about being young, stupid kids. Or that Ellie and Maria baked all day, listening to Christmas music someone had found a while ago. He didn’t wanna subject you to all that, knowing now you were home alone.

Since that night on patrol, Joel can’t get the image of you sitting at home on a holiday all by yourself. 

Probably being sad. 

There isn’t any particular reason why he feels so compelled to come knock on your door, there are plenty of other lonely souls that spend every holiday with no one else around. 

There was just a pull. Something inside of him that said go go go. 

Go to her.

He doesn’t really even know what he’s going to say to you if you decide to open the door for him. Hell, he’s not sure you’re even going to let him in! You’ve only ever gone on two patrols together. Y’all never really talk outside of that, but that’s mostly because he doesn’t see you around.

Not like he’s looking for you, or anything. 

When he knocks, it’s like his heart might hammer right out of his chest. Why is he so nervous? He’s just here to offer you a couple drinks so you don’t have to ring in the new year all alone. 

Ellie was with Dina and the rest of her friends, Tommy and Maria wanted to call it an early night because of the baby, and so Joel had two options: the bar, or sitting at home alone. 

It’s not that Joel didn’t like being alone. He had been alone since Tess, and that was still something he didn’t like to think about too much.

Too much loss for not enough of — whatever they had been. Losing her had almost been the final nail in the coffin, and if it hadn’t been for Ellie -

Don’t think about it.

Now Joel finds himself on your front porch, holding the screen door open with his large frame, and knocking lightly with the ass end of the bottle of whiskey.

From inside he can hear you moving around. His breath hitches in his throat when you finally open up for him. Joel watches your eyes scan him very quickly, taking in the picture in front of you. Your eyes go wide for a second like you don’t understand why he’s here.

Joel Miller on your front porch with a bottle of whiskey and his guitar. 

“Whaddya doin’ here?” 

Joel holds the bottle up for you to inspect closer as you wrap your arms around yourself like you’re trying to hide from him. 

Joel’s never seen you without your winter jacket, hat and gloves. Right now in your house, you have on a blue sweater, a pair of tight elastic tights that Joel wishes he could see you in more often, and the warmest looking socks he has ever seen.

His eyes scan the length of your body again involuntarily. His gaze lingers on your pants once again– so tight and they hug your curves (that Joel didn’t even know you had) in all the right ways.  

“Well, I reckon I came over here hopin’ you had cooked another roast, since it sounded so damn good when you told me ‘bout it on patrol–”

Joel continues his bullshit rambles about why he came over here as you start to smirk, and take a step back so the door can swing open a little wider and he can make his way in.

“The guitar?” You ask as Joel toes off his boots so he doesn’t track snow through your house. He hands you the bottle of whiskey, shifting the guitar between his hands as he takes off his jacket. 

“Figur’d if you wanted to share any of the food you made– I could share the whiskey… maybe play a lil gui-tar for ya.”

The last time he played the guitar for anyone besides Ellie– Sarah was still alive. 

Who is this man?

There was just something about the way you said ‘I just stayed home’. Joel was thinkin’ maybe you didn’t read a book and go to bed. 

Maybe you cried a little, missing whatever you remember from home. 

Joel knows all about that, all about the sleepless nights when you just can’t turn your brain off. You can’t stop thinking about the people that are no more, about how different things are now and how you’d give anything for them to go back to the way they used to be. 

Joel has Ellie and Tommy. Who do you have?

“You’re in luck because I did cook tonight,” you’re smiling at him and he thinks this is the first time he’s ever seen you smile, too. 

So many firsts for Joel, he feels like a teenager as you lead him further into your house - which is clean and smells phenomenally good - and into the kitchen. 

Joel hadn’t expected you to actually offer him food, he didn’t know if you cooked dinners like that for yourself all the time, or only on special occasions. 

You take the guitar from him and pull out a chair at your kitchen table. For a moment he feels like his brain malfunctions and he’s not sure how to react. 

“You can sit,” You’re already in your living room. “I’m just gonna…” Then you trail off. 

When Joel peers around the corner to check on you, you’re very carefully leaning the guitar against the wall, holding your hands out to catch it in case it leans too far one way or the other.

Joel feels heat creeping up his chest and neck as he watches you, slightly bent at the waist. The tightness of your pants— 

Nope.

Once you’re satisfied that the guitar won’t fall, you turn around and smile at him, even though he’s just standing there watching you like an idiot– blushing!

Blushing?

Part of him thinks this was the worst idea he ever had. How could you be doing this to him and you’ve done absolutely nothing? 

He should go home. 

“Sit!” You urge him to take a seat at the table while you basically prance into the kitchen to start serving him a plate. Everything is still sitting on the stove in the pots you cooked in.

You explain that you already ate because you weren’t expecting company. 

Joel almost tells you not to worry about the food, but then what would he do? Play guitar for three hours? Getting drunk and talking all night seems like a terrible idea. 

What the fuck was he thinking? This was the dumbest thing he’s ever done, it really was. 

He shuts his mouth though when you set down a plate of steaming food in front of him. 

“Dig in! I have more than enough if you want a second plate.” 

The way you talk so casually, like you’ve known Joel your whole life while you walk back into the kitchen makes him jealous. 

How are you so nice? Sweet? 

You haven’t even been here for four months and this is the first time either of you have said more than ten words to each other that didn’t have to do with patrol. 

It’s the way your body moves when you walk without all your winter gear on. You sway… almost like you’re floating.

Knock it off, old man. She’s half your age. 

Joel has to squeeze his eyes shut for two seconds until he hears your feet padding back to the table. When he opens them, you’re pushing one of the glasses in his direction.

“You brought the booze, so you have to pour it.” 

The smile on your face makes Joel feel a mix of pride and guilt. 

What are you expecting of him? He can’t give you more than just tonight. He knows that, he hopes you know that too.

Joel opens the bottle and pours each of you a decent, sippable glass.He should have poured himself less. 

Probably should have poured you less.

The food tastes better than Joel’s had in years. He even finds himself asking for seconds, something he rarely does.

You’re making small talk as he eats, asking about his travels and how long he’s been in Jackson. If he likes it here, how old is his daughter.

Joel decides not to tell you that Ellie isn’t really his daughter, because biologically she isn’t, but it hasn’t felt that way in a long time.

As he eats, and you chat, Joel starts to relax a little. Your presence is calming, and he finds himself enjoying your company more than he thought he would. He pours both of you another drink, his regrets of pouring less last time completely forgotten.

The food is gone and you’ve cleared his plate. But the two of you are still sitting at the kitchen table. He’s not sure if it’s the fact that this is another first— seeing you up close like this. In the light of your kitchen Joel can really take in your features; your cheeks when you smile, and the way your eyes light up when you laugh at some dumb joke he tells.

You ask him about his life before the outbreak, and Joel hesitates before giving a very brief summary of his past. He doesn’t like talking about it all, and he avoids bringing Sarah up completely.

Not tonight. Probably not ever.

You listen attentively and ask Joel questions that show you’re actually interested in what he’s saying.

Joel continues to pour the two of your drinks each time your glasses are empty and you never tell him to stop. You suggest moving to the living room where it’s more comfortable, and Joel agrees without hesitation.

Go home. This is going to end badly.

There is a fire going in your fireplace, and Joel can’t sit down until he puts another log or two on, and he has to move some things around to get it going again.

“I can do it myself,” you say from directly behind him, sounding a little offended.

Joel doesn't even look at you when he responds, "I know you can. Just helpin'."

When he finally turns around, you quickly look away. Joel can’t help but smirk and feel that familiar in his lower belly.

Had you been staring at him?

Joel watches as you sink down into the brown leather couch, curling up with your feet underneath you. He settles beside you with just enough distance to be polite.

“What songs do ya’ know?” Your voice is soft and your words are slightly slurred. The alcohol has definitely started to affect you, but Joel doesn’t think you’re that drunk yet.

Joel looks at the clock on your wall and it reads 10:45 PM. He can do this. An hour and fifteen minutes left, then Joel can escape.

Not that he wants to. He has to or something bad is going to happen. Something he regrets. 

Something you might regret. 

But when you ask him about songs, he can’t help but smile. The alcohol is going down too easily, way too easy for both of you.

Joel clears his throat. "Whaddya wanna hear?"

You shrug, your cute blue sweater sliding off one shoulder. Joel has to fight himself to keep his eyes on your face as you mindlessly tug the sweater up. It’s like you didn’t even realize it happened. You kept your eyes on him the entire time.

"Somethin' that makes you happy."

The fact that you’re moving your feet to tuck your toes underneath Joel’s right thigh is sending electric shocks to his brain. He leans and grabs the guitar off the wall– careful to not move too much so he can keep the contact between the two of you. 

Shit. What is he getting himself into?

Joel holds the guitar, fingers tracing the old wooden curves. It's been a while since he's played at all. The strings feel ice cold under his calloused hands.

Joel strum a couple cords, “Know a few songs,” he says, clearing his throat. “Might be a lil rusty though,” he smirks at you and gives you a sideways glance. 

You smile from behind your whiskey glass and Joel feels something shift inside him. Something he hasn't felt in a long time. 

Something dangerous.

Your eyes are glittering in the firelight— different than they had looked in the artificial light of your kitchen. It casts a warm glow across your face, softening the edges that Joel has only ever seen sharp and alert on patrol.

He clears his throat once again and continues to move his fingers along the frets. The first few notes come out slightly off-key, but Joel quickly finds his rhythm. He starts with a Garth Brooks song.

Joel knows he’s not the best at the guitar and he doesn’t play it nearly as often now that Ellie is so busy with her own life. 

You don’t seem to mind, and sometimes Joel misses a chord or messes up completely because he can’t stop glancing over to watch you watching him.

He starts to sing, his voice low and gravelly. It's not a perfect voice - never was - but there's something raw and honest in the way the words tumble out.

… Blame it all on my roots, I showed up in boots And ruined your black tie affair The last one to know, the last one to show I was the last one you thought you'd see there

You shift slightly, your toes still tucked under his thigh, and Joel catches you watching his hands. Even as he continues to sing. You never take your eyes off of him. Not once.

… 'Cause I've got friends in low places Where the whiskey drowns and the beer chases my blues away And I'll be OK Yeah, I'm not big on social graces Think I'll slip on down to the oasis Oh, I've got friends in low places

Joel's voice falters for a moment when he notices the concentration of your gaze. His fingers momentarily stagger on the guitar strings, creating a clashing note that lingers in the air for a moment before he continues.

You don't seem to notice, or care. Your eyes are locked on his hands, watching how they move across the guitar with a kind of reverence that makes Joel's breath catch. 

Joel finishes the song, letting the last chord ring out softly in the quiet room. For a moment, neither of you moves. You're still watching him, your eyes heavy-lidded from the whiskey, but there's something else there too.

Joel’s eyes fall on the clock on your wall and it’s only 11.

He’s completely fucked.

Joel becomes acutely aware of how close you are.

Your toes are still tucked under his leg, and the warmth of your body seeps through the denim of his jeans. Joel swallows hard, trying to ignore the way his heart is racing.

"Another song?" you ask, your voice soft and slightly husky from the whiskey.

Joel clears his throat. "Sure," he manages, repositioning the guitar.

Joel starts strumming again, this time a slower, more mournful tune. His fingers find the familiar chords of an old country ballad, something he used to play for Sarah when she was real little. Before the weight of being a single dad started to apply pressure.

The memories threaten to overtake him, but he forces them down, focusing instead on the way the light flickers across your face. He can feel the heat of your body against his leg, the whiskey making everything feel soft and blurry around the edges. His voice is lower now, almost a whisper, like he's singing just for you.

Joel sings a couple more songs, a few at your request.

"That was really good," you say softly, your eyes meeting his. There's something in your gaze that makes Joel shiver - it’s a weakness, a longing that mirrors something deep inside himself.

When he looks at the clock again it’s 12:30.

“We completely missed new years,” Joel points to the clock and chuckles. He had completely forgotten that’s why he came over here originally. Once the music started, everything else kind of faded away. 

It was just the two of you while the rest of Jackson, and possibly the rest of the world stopped existing in that short time. 

“I was havin’ a good time,” you’re still smiling at him and now he can see how glassy they are from the whiskey. 

“Y’look like y’were havin’ a good time, darlin’.” Joel smiles and starts to stand up from the couch. It’s not until he’s standing directly in front of you realize what’s happening, Joel watches your eyes shift and change. 

Are you panicking?

“Are… were–” you cut yourself off and shake your head, waving a hand at Joel dismissively. “Nevermind. Thank you for coming over.” When you turn to look at him, your eyes are rimmed with a glossy sheen. The whites of your eyes had turned a hazy shade of red.

“S’wrong?” 

You shrug your shoulders, your sweater falling off your shoulder again. You don’t notice and twirl your whiskey glass in your hand slowly. “Nothin’. I had a good time… just sad you gotta go.” 

Joel knows he shouldn’t, but he gently replaces your sweater, his fingers lingering on the warm skin of your collarbone for a moment before he pulls away. “I’m all outta songs, sweetheart.” 

“You don’t wanna stay?”

Joel swallows hard and then cuts you off, “For what?” Joel whispers it and you snap your head up to look at him, almost as astonished as he is. Joel knows that the liquor and the way you had been looking at him all night is a recipe for disaster. 

Make me leave, please. Kick me out. Don’t ask me to stay again because I won’t be able to say no.

You finish the last of your whiskey before setting your glass down on the coffee table in front of your couch. 

“You know what.” 

“I do… but we’ve been drinkin’... ‘n I don’t want ya’ regretti–”

“What is there to regret?” you whisper. Your hand snakes into his and Joel doesn’t pull his away or nothing. “You gotta know more songs.”

Joel sits down beside you again, sighing loudly like this is a giant inconvenience to him, but a part of him knows that this isn’t going to end–

Not at all. 

Once he takes you upstairs, it’s over for the both of you. It’s like he can taste it in the air. 

“One more,” Joel nods his head at you. “Then I’m leavin’.” 

He and you both know that’s not true. 

His fingers find their holds on the neck of the guitar and he looks over at you before he strums the first note. 

You shy away from him, tucking your toes back under his thigh. Joel lifts his leg slightly so you can slip them deeper under his leg. 

There's no stronger wind than the one that blows Down a lonesome railroad line No prettier sight than looking back On a town you left behind There is nothin' that's as real As your face that's on my mind

Joel changes the lyrics just a little, and he doesn’t know if you notice, or even if you know this song. He's not ready to sing about love, not at all.

He confidently sings you the next part though.

Close your eyes I'll be here in the morning Close your eyes I'll be here for a while

hopefully y'all had a better time than I did.

love you all so so much

[cosmickid-inmotion]

First and Last

Logan Howlett x fem!Reader x Wade Wilson

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Summery: You are inexperienced outside of Logan, so he lets you get fucked by his fwend!!!

Warnings: Threesome, mfm threesome, m/m dynamics here and there, Wade is menace. PIV sex, sharing reader, blowjob, balls <3, protective Logan, lots of explicit consent, oral f and m, cumming in pants too soon. Bisexuality <3 Similar themes as Awakening with Triple Frontier <3

Immersivity: Reader is fem, afab, dresses in dresses, has hair.

A/N: I'm so excited for this!!!! First Wade Wilson fic? So excited!!! I've been writing some logan mostly at my dark account @romana-after-dark. I hope I did okay!!!

Sorry for the repost, this wasn't showing up in the tags at all??? So I'll retag those who rebloged my first one that i remember. Im so sorry to those I didn't remember!!!

You were a virgin when you met Logan.

That didn’t last long.

Sure, Logan took his time, not taking your first kiss and virginity at the same time, but you were as desperate for him as he was for you. You loved your Wolverine. Your sweet, cuddly bear of a man who protected you with a ferocity you’d never seen before and loved you with a tenderness you’ve never felt. 

Still, some days you wondered…

Logan brought it up first. You certainly weren’t going to suggest sleeping with someone else, absolutely not. You loved, loved, loved your boyfriend and he never once left you sexually lacking. Logan learned everything your body liked, everything it didn’t, and brought you pleasure and comfort in one go. It was just that natural bit of curiosity in you that occasionally it flittered across you mind. Not that you thought anyone could be better than Logan; no one could. Even with a bigger cock or someone more eager tongue, the love you shared would always elevate sex. Still, it was more what other people felt like.

“Do you ever wonder what it’s like, having sex with other people?” Logan waited until after sex, when the room was filled with emotional intimacy, but after he cleaned you up. He ever put you in his green flannel. He always put clothes on you before talking about anything serious, and one day you asked him why. He said he wants an even playing field, and at first you think your tits are distracting, but then he continues. He doesn’t want you to feel vulnerable or emotionally naked when you talk.

Heat creeps up your neck. You don’t want to hurt his feelings, but you remain honest. “Sometimes it crosses my mind I guess… But really, not something I like, sit and ponder about. I promise.”

“Hm.” He grunts, playing with your hair and looking at your lips, and for a moment you think he didn’t like that answer. Then he adds. “Have you ever thought about Wade?”

That’s how you got here. After some gentle coaxing, you say no, you never thought about Logan’s friend sexually. You asked if he ever thought about Wade sexually, and he just smirked. ‘Thought about him with you.’

Now you were sat on Logan’s lap on the bed, Wade standing against the wall just watching as Logan explores your body.

“Prettiest fuck’n tits you ever seen…”

Wade has a big grin plastered across his face. ”So you keep saying.” He says with a little laughter, hand fidgeting near his crotch but not touching yet. Not until Logan gives him permission. “And yet, they are like Hugh Jackman in my first two movies.”

You don’t know what he’s talking about half the time.

Logan gives a tit a squeeze, and you stifle a whimper. “Need her to get comfortable, first.” Logan turns into your neck, and you can feel his facial hair tickling your skin. A warm reminder that you are safe, loved and protected. “You nervous, pumpkin?” He coos into the crop of your neck, and you nod shyly. “Do you wanna stop?” You quickly shake your head.

Wade speaks now, more sincere than you are used to from him but still that playful tone. “You sure about that?” He holds up his hand, palm out, and wiggles his fingers. “Nothing tighter than my right hand.”

This made you smile, and Logan continued to touch you. He hooks your legs over his knees, spreading his own legs wide and letting Wade get a good look up your skirt at the cute panties you picked out just for him.

Wade whistles, his cock clearly tenting in his sweats. “C’mon Logan, you’re fucking with me here. I did not consent to edging, we’d have to negotiate that contract.”

A low rumble against your back and Logan chuckles. “Go ahead and touch yourself, dumbass.” As Wade quickly goes to palm at himself, groaning obscenely loud, and Logan responds by dragging his fingers over your clothes clit and tickles the soaked material. 

“Mmmmm” You sign happily at the contact, but stifled from the noises Logan has pulled out of you again and again and again. “Still feeling shy?” He murmurs against your skin, even as he delivers a small slap to your pussy.

You jolt. “M’ sorry”

“Don’t be sorry, just tell me what you want to do. Cards are in your hands.”

And they were. You look at Wade touching himself, heat growing in your stomach at the idea of him between your legs. Nothing in you says stop, no alarm bells to ignore… Wade could be balls deep inside your pussy and if you said stop, he’d stop. You knew Wade enough for that, but you also knew Logan was going to protect you. You doubted you could get to that point without Logan reading your body. No, you trusted them. “Just nerves.” You tell him finally, locking eyes with Wade for a moment before turning away. The heat was too intense, too much sexual tension in the room, the three of you’s desire for each other. You just needed to cool off. “Don’t wanna stop just… I need to relax.” You tell Logan.

Ever attentive, his hands leave your dripping core and go to your shoulders, rubbing them. In a half-whisper, he says, “Would it help if I told you his middle name was Winston?”

A beat of silence.

Then, you giggle. The air is lighter in the room, but no less attraction. You felt better.

Two large hands slide up your middle to cup your breasts. “Are you ready, sweet girl?” 

You look at Wade grinning ear to ear. You can feel Logan’s comforting presence all around you.

“Yeah, I’m ready.” 

*

Logan had taken care of the communication, and everyone was clear on rules and boundaries between the three of you. Well, yours and Logans anyway. Wade was absulty down for anything, stating “Any appendage, any hole.” He said something about toes and urethas, but Logan said something along the lines of , “shut the fuck up, she hasn’t even done anal yet, don’t scare the poor girl.”

Anal play was a no. Logan and you had definitely messed around with some finger and tongue action, but his cock hadn’t gone in yet, and you certainly weren’t letting Wade get in on that action before your loving boyfriend. As for other anal play, you just didn’t feel comfortable with a man you weren’t dating up in that. What if you farted? Well, Wade might be into that actually. Second rule was you stayed in your dress. Maybe it’s silly considering he’ll be up inside your guts, but you weren’t totally confident enough to undress in front of another man. 

Logan’s rules were very clear and simple. Firstly, your comfort comes before everything. Wade can’t lose himself. That was his rule for Wade, but he had a request for you too. 

“First and last,” He asked of you. “Your first and last orgasms belong to me, because no matter what happens here, you’re still mine. His cum might be leaking out of you, but it’s mine that’s gonna get you pregnant one day, do you understand?” 

That idea alone made your stomach do flips… but for the time being, you were on birth control.

Once you told Logan you were ready, Logan stood with you in his arms like you were weightless, turning around to gently lay you down on the bed. He ate you out slower than usual, insisting he wanted to take him time, get you to relax. Wade was suddenly leaning over where Logan knelt on the floor, hands on his shoulders and humps his still-clothed erection onto Logan’s back.

“No fingers yet? Wolvie, baby, you know better than anyone you gotta open her up or this is gonna hurt.”

“Shut the hell up.” Logan growled, then kissed your inner thigh. “She can take it, can’t you baby?”

You scrambled to get a grip on his gentle waves, trying to pull him back into your cunt. “Yes, but Lo, please don’t stop!”

“Ohhhh poor baby…” Logan teases you with a striped licked up your soaked folds. “You need me? Does my girl need me?”

Wade gives a long, slow grind against Logan’s back. “Better give her your fingers soon or I’m gonna go klablewy in my pants.”

Only half listening, Logan looks up at you through his dark lashes, Logan asks you. “That what you need? Need me to open you up, bub?”

You nod furiously, pulling him into you. Not making any effort to tell Wade to fuck off, Logan slides two thick fingers into your dripping channel, causeing you to sigh in relief and Wade to whimper, rutting against Logan like a dog. Instead of pushing him off, Logan reached behind himself and grabbed Wade’s leg, gluing them together and encouraging him on. The sight causes you to chase your high against his face and fingers.

“That’s right, take what you need, go ahead and use me… there we go, feels good doesn’t it?” You didn’t know if he was talking to you or to Wade.

When Wade begins moaning, face twisting in pleasure, Logan picks up his pace. He could feel Wade cumming against him, and seconds later you were gushing out onto his mouth. Getting two people off at once was not something he’d ever thought about, but as he felt it happening Logan couldn’t help the swell of pride in his chest.

Your body goes limp under him, sighing contently the way he loves so much, and he feels Wade braced against him still.

“You gonna be ready to go again, or is your dick as fucked as the rest of you?” Logan teases, starting to stand and only just now shoving the other man back a little.

“Ooh hoo hoo, just give me a minute, Logey boo. There are 206 bones in the human body, 207 if I’m watching you touch this sweet little thing.”

You smile up at him, happy to see him happy, happy he’s here. “Would touching me speed up the process?”

Wade practically jumps on the bed.

*

Once Wade was hard again, you were put into position, handmaid's tale style. Logan sat against the padded bedpost, legs spread, with you in between them. You rest your head on his jeans covered cock as Wade lines himself up at your entrance. He’s longer than Logan but not as thick, cut while Logan isn’t.

He was perfect, just not as perfect as your loving boyfriend. Wade pushes into you quickly, forcing a sharp breath to exhale out of you, nails digging into Logan’s hands where he holds you.

“Wade! For fucks sake, go easy on the girl!”

But you surprise Logan by begging Wade for more. “Please, please, please, give it to me, give it to me Wade.” You look up at your lover. “Logan, please tell him, tell him to fuck me?” Your hips buck, begging for friction.

Logan chuckles. “You heard my girl, Wade-o, give it to her.”

Wade fucking woops, fucking your pussy with an energy you weren’t used to. Logan was an incredible lover, stamina and tenderness, he was not lacking in energy and passion during sex, but Wade? Whole other story. Wade fucked hard and fast, hands wandering all over every inch of your body, whether exposes skin or your pretty dress. Never once did he try to push aside any clothing or show him more than comfortable, simply told you how pretty you looked in this dress. 

“Jesus, how did you find a cute little doll like this?” Wade practically giggles with glee. “This is gonna be in my wet dreams for as long as I live, which, as it happens, is a long fucking time. God, I could just live in this sweet little pussy forever. If you were mine, you’d never be able to walk straight.”

Logan, never one to be shown up by Wad’s mouth, talks right back, fingertips trailing down your front. “Why do you think we canceled on drinks last week? Had to carry her to the bath she was fucked so raw.”

“You kept it up that long, old man?” 

“‘Till she was cry’n”

 “Looks like she’s about ready to start that again.”

Tears were blurring in your eyes, the heat inside you festering into your lower stomach as Wade ravaged your core. You could feel him inside you, your body shifting and making room for him to reach deep inside you than anyone or anything had before. The way he touched your body made you feel wonderfully desired, Wade’s ADHD mind jumping from part to part, giving attention to bits of you that could never have found sex, while Logan’s careful and precise minstrations massaged those erogenous zones. There were even a few sounds Wade pulled from you touching new places that Logan took note of, making sure to know exactly what makes his girl whimper and whine. 

He’s not above learning a thing or two, even if he could make your cum untouched with just his voice. Logan knew how to make you feel adored and sexy and cum over and over again on his cock, but if there was a way to make it even better for you, he was gonna learn.

“It’s okay bub, let it out, we got you. Ooooohhh there we go, that’s my girl, crying on Wades cock like a good girl, my pretty wife letting my friend use her cute body to get his rocks off because he can’t find anyone to get his rocks off with”

“Hey now!”

Logan calling you his wife, hinting at what he had always promised you, a future together for the rest of your life.

“Logan!” You reach your hand back, and Logan takes it quickly, anchoring you. “Wade!” You pull Wade close to you, his body slimmer than Logan but covering you in comfort nonetheless. You feel his skin, mangled and beautiful and so uniquely him sliding against your sweat-slick skin, lips coming to kiss as the force of his thrusts rub your head against Logan's hard cock.

“You gonna cum, baby? Gonna cum on my dick while Logan watches? You know, generally I like to keep my cucks in a chair, but I’ll make an exception for my little peanut.” Wade boops Logan’s nose.

“Ignore him, pumpk’n” but you didn’t want to ignore Wade, not when he was making your legs shake, your climax crestinc as you whine. The hand that isn’t holding yours cradles your neck on his lap, grounding you into this bed where he’d shown you his love time and time again as you cum on his friend's cock. “That’s it, cum for me, sweet girl. Squeezing your cock so good isn’t she?”

“Like FUCKING HEAVEN!” Wade hollers in your ear, pumping his cum into your cunt against and again while you writhe in their arms, a full body orgasm having blossomed from your stomach and tingling down your toes and fingers. You’d never felt so desired, so sexy, so beautiful. 

Wade collapses on your body and you instinctively wrap your arms around him, whispering a thank you in his ear.

“Anything… for… my OTP!” Wade tries to quip between breathless wheezes, but he’s so tired he remains on your chest, eyes drooping.

Logan plays with your hair, tender touches on your face and down your neck where he caressed Wade’s head as well. You loved this, you loved them, and you especially loved your sweet Logan, the fearsome Wolverine only soft for you… and Wade Wilson, it seems. He start to get up after several minutes, still fully clothed and fully hard. Your head slides off his lap, and his hand guides in gentle down to the bed.

“I’m gonna get you guys cleaned up.”

You catch his hand, gazing up at him questioningly. “First and last, remember?” He wanted to give yoru first and last orgasm, but Logan just smiles down softly at you.

“You’re tired, bub. Let me take care of your guys.”

“I can do another!” You try to assert. This was Logan’s condition, and it’s not like you were in pain or pure exhausted. There was no reason you couldn’t do this for him.

From his place resting on your chest, Wade pipes up. “I see you’re still rocking a stiffy, gramps. I bet we could heat things up in here to the 60’s” He turns to a wall and winks. “The highest 60’s”

Logan shook his head. “Today wasn’t about me.”

But you don’t let go. “First and last. You are my first, and my last, okay?”

His soft smile grows into something more wicked.

*

You are placed on top of him, your sweet pussy dripping down onto his tongue, his thumb fucking your ass, and cock making your mouth gag. Wade, a tired wittle guy, laid down between Logan’s legs and under mouth, slobbering with Logan’s balls in his mouth. Gagging on your lover’s shaft, Wade is not put off by your saliva and Logan’s precum dripping down on him. Likewise, Logan was not bothered by swallowing down Wade’s cum. In fact, he ate you out with more vigor than he had earlier, humming contently at the taste of his friend.

Wade guided you, using your mouth like a toy to pleasure his friend. With fingers entangled in your locks he pulls your head off and pushes it back down, forcing your throat to take whatever it’s given. Still, somehow he listens to those little cues of yours and never pushes it too far. You gag and moan in delight as Logan devours your puffy pussy, your tight little ring of muscle squeezing down on his thumb. Finger nails dig into Logan’s thick thighs and he’s not sure who they belong to, you or Wade, and before he can draw it out any longer Logan is flooding your mouth with rope after rope of hot cum.

“Yeah, fuck, don’t fucking stop baby, keep gagging, want my cum spilling on Wade’s face.”

“FUCK YEAH!” Wade shouts, albeit muffled with Logans tightening balls still in his mouth. When Logan finishes pumping your mouth full, you pull off his dick and lean over Wade, mouth full. He leaves Logan and smiles, giving you permission for what you were both thinking. He opens his mouth and spit a blog of saliva and cum into his mouth, slowly letting it drip down before you encased his mouth in your, letting him lick the rest of Logan’s cum out as he watched.

*

Logan did as he promised and took care of you and Wade. The two of you were entangled yourself with each other, arms in arms, legs wrapped around waists as Logan got a warm wash of clothes and cleaned both of you up with a gentle touch you ’d never seen him give Wade, but you liked seeing it. Wade and you provided each other with that skin to skin as Logan handled the technical, praising you both.

While Logan made you and Wade drink water, he rummaged through his clothes, tossing Wade some sweats and looking at you as he pulled on boxers. “Can I take you to the bathroom so I can get you into something more comfortable?”

You consider his words for a minute. He was offering you privacy, not requiring you to undress in front of Wade nor stay in the dress. Wade mumbles something about leaving the room, but he was clearly half asleep. Thing was, you didn't feel embarrassed with Wade anymore.

“You can change me here.”

Logan smiles down at you, leaning over to press a sweet kiss to your dick-sucking-swollen lips, and grabs at the hem of your dress. Even though he’s tired, Wade helps lift up your hips, then torso, then neck with his strength and is nice and carefully laying you down again on your nice soft bed. When Logan finally joins you two, you’re surprised to find that inside of going to curl his arms around you at your side, he crawls up between you and Wade. For a second you think there’s jealousy, that he wants distance between you two and you fear he’s about to send Wade out. Spending the night was not in the plan, but neither was that intense sexual chemistry between all three of you. You didn’t love Wade, but you felt close to him. You wanted him to stay.

Instead of kicking Wade wraps his arms around both of you, pulling you close to him. He was warm, safe, strong as you laid your body down on top of his chest, Wade opting to curl in more and rest on Logan’s abs, muttering “Mmmmm my peanut” and for once Logan didn’t tell him to shut up. When Wade starts snoring, Logan continues to play with your hair as he speaks.

“Was everything okay, pumpkin? You feel good?”

“Yeah,” You confirm, nodding off to sleep in content happiness. “Are you okay that I kissed Wade? We didn’t really talk about that.”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little mind, beautiful girl. I know who you belong to.”

You kiss his left peck. “My first and last.”

I HOPE I DID OKAY!!!!!!

I love them you're honor ;-; WADE IS CANONICALLY QUEER SO DONT ERASE THATW HEN YOU WRITE HIM!!!

I love wolverine/ deadpool <3

I love my queer men

Thank you for reading! I have a/b/o Logan series coming after I finish up some Pedro Pascal fics!!!

@clawsandbullets @sunnyfranc @silversprings-mp3 @apizzacalledmel @marshmallow--3 @titanwind @sheepdogtrick3 @zooty-and-fruity @drunk-and-capable @xdaddysprincessxx

and thought @tightjeansjavi @multiversed-daydreamer and @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction may enjoy but no presure!!!!

[ladycupcakes]

Hi darling, welcome to the platform ✨

I don't know if you've received any requests yet, if not I'll be the first.

Do you have any cruel, scratchy, twisting fluff with Joel in stock? Maybe a veeery slow morning, or a moment's break from patrol. Lately I can't stop with soft Joel.. and this is what I get in return. Sleepless nights thinking how lovely he would be.

If that's not your style then you definitely don't have to create anything like that, I'm just asking... for a friend :>

omggg thank u sm for your request 🖤🖤 i really liked the idea, it was super cute to write!! hope u like it as much as i liked doing it hehe ✨🫶 enjoyy~

Summary:You haven’t slept in three nights and Joel’s been too busy with endless patrols to notice. But when he finally has a day off, you get something even better than rest: time wrapped up in his arms.

Tags: Jackson!Joel x Reader, Domestic!Joel, Super Soft Fluff

Warnings: No warnings, just pure fluff and cute Joel x Reader

Word count: 2.5K

Requests here

Three days. Three whole days without a single hour of sleep. You’d lost count of how many times you’d blinked through the blurry haze of exhaustion, hoping it would trick your brain into shutting off for even a second. But it never did. The insomnia had crept in quietly, like it always did—at first, just a restless night, then two, and suddenly you were lying wide awake for the third night in a row, your thoughts buzzing, heart racing over nothing and everything at once.

Maybe it was the nightmares you never really talked about. Or the creeping anxiety that came whenever Joel was away too long. Maybe it was just the silence of Jackson after midnight—too still, too safe, too unfamiliar after years of never letting your guard down. Whatever the reason, it had wrapped around you like a cold blanket you couldn’t shake off.

But none of that compared to the worst part.

The worst part was Joel.

Not because of something he did—but because you missed him. Because after all those sleepless hours, all that tossing and turning, you’d finally hear the creak of the front door... and then watch him stumble through the threshold, bone-tired from yet another patrol shift, eyes heavy, shoulders slumped. And before you could even pull him into a hug, he’d barely manage to sit down for dinner, mumble a few words, and then disappear under the covers, asleep within seconds.

You knew it wasn’t his fault. But God, you’d cursed Maria and the whole damn town of Jackson more than once for piling three back-to-back patrols on him. It felt cruel. Unfair. Like they didn’t see what it was doing to him—or to you.

And now, here you were again. Another dawn breaking through the curtains, soft and golden, painting your room in delicate warmth that did little to thaw the ache in your chest. You’d been lying still for hours, eyes wide open, counting the quiet seconds, waiting for the familiar shift beside you.

Any minute now, he’d get up.

And just like that, he stirred.

With a groggy grunt, Joel shifted beneath the covers, one heavy arm stretching across the bed before he blinked his tired eyes open. He turned toward you, hair tousled, beard messy, and looked right into your wide-awake gaze.

“Whatcha doin’ awake, sugar?” he murmured, voice low and rough with sleep.

His hand reached out to brush your cheek, fingers warm against your skin. The touch was gentle, almost reverent, like he knew how fragile you felt—how badly you needed even the smallest bit of him to ground you.

His eyes, though heavy-lidded and bloodshot, softened the moment they met yours.

“Can’t sleep...” you sighed, your voice barely louder than the whisper of wind against the windows.

Joel’s brow furrowed the second the words left your lips. The drowsiness in his expression vanished in an instant, replaced by something sharper—concern. Real, deep concern that tugged at the corners of his mouth and made his eyes go soft and serious.

“You tellin’ me this now?” he mumbled, already pushing himself up a little on one elbow to look at you properly. His gaze flicked toward the window, catching the pale gold light beginning to pour in. “What time is it... almost seven? Jeez, sweetheart...”

You offered a tired smile, then looked away, suddenly shy under the weight of his gaze. “It’s okay. I’ve had a few nights like this already.”

The last part came out quieter, almost hesitant, like you were hoping he wouldn’t catch it—but of course he did. Joel always did.

His arms wrapped around you without hesitation, pulling you in until you were close enough to feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your chest. The warmth of his body surrounded you, strong and solid and safe. You let out a long, shaky sigh—finally, in his arms, something inside you eased, just a little.

“Baby,” he said softly, dipping his head to meet your eyes. “Look at me.”

You did. Slowly.

“You gotta call me for this kinda thing. Don’t matter how tired I am, alright?”

You blinked at him, guilt settling in your chest.

“But you come home barely able to keep your eyes open, Joel,” you whispered, brushing your fingers along the curve of his jaw. “Last thing I wanna do is worry you more than you already do—which is a lot, by the way. And it’s not like you could really do anything.”

Joel gave a small huff through his nose. Not quite a laugh. Not quite annoyed. More like... exasperated in that Joel Miller kind of way, where the lines between love and frustration blurred.

“Darlin’,” he said, drawing the word out in that warm Texas drawl of his, “I’m always worried ‘bout you. That ain’t new. But if you’re layin’ here losin’ sleep for nights on end and don’t tell me? That does somethin’ to me. Makes me feel like I ain’t doin’ my job. Like I’m failin’ you.”

You opened your mouth, but he shook his head, gentle but firm.

“Ain’t just about what I can or can’t do, baby. It’s about bein’ here. For you. Even if all I can do is hold you ‘til the sun comes up.”

And with that, he tucked you closer, resting his chin against the top of your head, one hand smoothing along your back in slow, steady strokes. His heartbeat thudded steady and sure beneath your cheek. The silence that followed wasn’t heavy anymore. It was full of warmth, of presence, of quiet promises.

You didn’t have to say anything else.

Wrapped up in his arms, with the weight of his chest rising and falling beneath your cheek, you finally let yourself relax. The tension that had lived in your shoulders for days began to melt away, little by little, as Joel held you close like he didn’t plan on letting go for anything or anyone.

Then came the kisses.

Soft. Unhurried.

He pressed one to the top of your head, then another to your temple. And then a few more across your forehead, like he was mapping out all the parts of you that needed comfort, that needed reminding you weren’t alone. His beard tickled against your skin—just enough to make you smile, eyes fluttering shut as warmth bloomed in your chest.

“Mmh,” you hummed, nuzzling into his neck and planting a lazy kiss against the spot just beneath his ear. It made him sigh, deep and low, like he hadn’t realized how much he needed that too.

“You tryin’ to kill me, sugar?” he murmured with a sleepy smile, voice all gravel and affection.

You smiled against his skin, arms curling tighter around him. “Just sayin’ thank you.”

“Don’t need no thank yous,” he whispered, pressing one last kiss to your hair. “Just need you sleepin’, finally.”

Just as sleep started to pull you under—slow and syrupy, like honey in warm tea—you felt Joel shift slightly, pressing another kiss into your hairline.

You stirred with a small noise, fingers tightening around his shirt.

“Don’t go,” you whispered, voice soft and a little cracked from the edges of sleep. “Please don’t go yet.”

Joel paused.

His hand brushed gently down your spine, his nose buried in your hair for a second before he breathed out a warm chuckle, the kind that rumbled low in his chest.

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere, darlin’,” he murmured, pulling you impossibly closer. “Ain’t got patrol today. M’s all yours.”

That made your eyes flutter open, just enough to meet his. He was already looking at you—messy hair, tired eyes, and the kindest expression written across his face like it belonged there.

“All mine?” you echoed, already smiling as you peppered soft, lazy kisses along the curve of his jaw. Then another to his cheek. His nose. His forehead. The kind of kisses that didn’t ask for anything—just gave and gave.

“Every last bit,” he said, letting out a small groan as you kissed just beneath his eye. “Woman, you keep doin’ that, and I ain’t gettin’ outta this bed all day.”

“Good,” you said between kisses, your voice still sleepy. “That’s the plan.”

Joel smiled again—wide this time, with laugh lines and all.

You pulled back just enough to look at him properly, your hand resting against his chest. There was still a tiredness in your body, but the ache that had wrapped around your heart for the past few nights was gone. He had chased it away without even trying.

“I missed you,” you whispered. Not dramatic, not heavy—just true. Honest.

Joel looked at you like the world had stopped spinning. Then he leaned in and kissed your forehead again, slower this time.

“I missed you too, baby,” he said, his voice rough but full of something so tender it made your throat tighten. “More’n you’ll ever know.”

And as the morning light painted your bedroom in soft gold, tangled in each other under warm blankets, it felt like the world could wait just a little longer.

Because Joel was here. And he wasn’t going anywhere.

He watched you for a long moment, his hand idly tracing slow circles along your back. He could feel how your breathing had steadied, how your body had begun to surrender to the comfort of his presence. But still, you hadn’t quite let go.

“You should sleep, baby,” he said gently, brushing his lips against your forehead once more. “You’re dead on your feet.”

You let out a soft sound—half protest, half sigh—and nuzzled in closer to the crook of his neck.

“I could,” you murmured, voice muffled against his skin, “but I finally have time with you. Not wasting it sleepin’.”

Joel let out a soft chuckle, warm and deep. “Ain’t a waste, darlin’. Ain’t like I’m goin’ anywhere. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes still heavy with exhaustion, but stubbornly full of love.

“I know,” you whispered, fingers brushing lightly through the curls at the nape of his neck. “But it’s not the same. You’ve been out there for days. I missed this. You. The way you hold me. The way you kiss me like you don’t gotta rush off in five minutes.”

He smiled—slow and crooked—and leaned in to kiss the tip of your nose.

“Well,” he drawled, that Southern lilt wrapping around every word like molasses, “reckon we’ve got the whole damn day now. No rush. Just us.”

You grinned at that, soft and sleepy, and kissed the corner of his mouth. Then his jaw. Then the spot under his ear again, just because you knew he liked it.

“Then I’m not sleepin’,” you murmured against his skin. “Not yet.”

Joel wrapped both arms around you again, burying his face in your hair, and let out a contented sigh.

“Ain’t no arguin’ with you, is there?”

“Nope,” you whispered with a smile. “None at all.”

The two of you stayed like that for what felt like forever.

No words. No rush. Just the rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek, his hand stroking your back with slow, sleepy affection, your fingers drawing lazy patterns along the soft cotton of his worn T-shirt.

Time didn’t exist in that moment—not really. It was just warmth, and comfort, and the quiet kind of closeness that only comes when two people know each other by heart.

Eventually, Joel shifted beneath you, pressing a kiss to your forehead before murmuring, “Alright. Stay put, sugar.”

You blinked up at him, confused and a little pouty at the sudden loss of warmth. “Where are you goin’?”

He leaned in to kiss you slow and soft, his hand cupping your jaw. “To the kitchen. Gonna make you somethin’ to eat. You need food, not just cuddles.”

“But I like the cuddles,” you mumbled sleepily, nuzzling into the spot where his neck met his shoulder.

Joel huffed a laugh, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “You’ll get more. Just let me spoil you a little, alright?”

You groaned softly but nodded, letting him slip out from under the blankets. The bed felt colder without him, but your heart stayed warm. You could hear him moving around the kitchen—opening cabinets, clinking pans, the occasional low mutter when something didn’t behave the way he wanted it to.

It was oddly soothing, hearing him out there. Like the world was still turning, but only in the safest, quietest way.

And then, fifteen minutes later, he was back.

You sat up a little, rubbing your eyes, as Joel walked in carefully with a tray in hand. Two plates, steaming gently. A couple of mugs. Toast, eggs, something that smelled suspiciously like bacon—slightly overcooked, but perfect all the same.

He set the tray down on the nightstand and gave you a proud little smirk.

“Not bad for an old man runnin’ on no sleep,” he said, climbing back onto the bed and nudging the tray toward you.

You laughed softly, taking one of the mugs into your hands. Coffee, of course. Just the way you liked it. “You’re not old.”

Joel raised an eyebrow. “Sweetheart, I make noises when I sit down.”

You giggled, shaking your head, and leaned over to kiss his cheek. “You make noises that make me feel safe. That’s different.”

He gave you a look full of something that could only be described as love. Pure and unguarded. The kind he didn’t always show with words, but always made sure you felt.

The two of you ate slowly, sitting side by side in bed, legs tangled beneath the sheets. There were no big conversations. Just quiet bites, shared smiles, and soft touches between sips of coffee. Every so often, Joel would steal a kiss or stroke his thumb across your wrist, like he needed to keep reminding himself that you were really there. That he didn’t have to rush off.

When you were finished, he gathered the empty plates with care and gave you one more kiss—this one long and full of everything he didn’t say aloud.

“I’ll be right back,” he murmured against your lips.

You nodded, already sinking back against the pillows, your body heavy with comfort and full belly warmth.

Joel took the tray and walked out, humming something low under his breath as he disappeared down the hall. You listened to the quiet clatter of dishes in the kitchen, the water running, the soft sounds of him taking care of everything the way he always did—with quiet devotion.

By the time he returned, the room was still, golden light pouring in across the bed.

And you were asleep.

Curled beneath the blanket, your breathing deep and slow, lips parted just slightly. One hand still rested on his pillow, like you’d reached for him even as you drifted off.

Joel stood in the doorway for a long moment, watching you with something heavy and tender in his chest.

He crossed the room quietly, careful not to wake you, and sat on the edge of the bed. Brushed a piece of hair from your forehead. Let his fingers linger there for a second longer than they needed to.

“Sweet dreams, baby,” he whispered, voice thick with something he didn’t bother hiding anymore.

And then he lay back down beside you, careful and slow, wrapping an arm around your waist as if he could guard your sleep from everything—nightmares, the cold, the past.

The world could wait.

You were safe. And he was home.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

Listen I’m going insane from how you write Stan and been rereading your spicy chatting headcanons and…. Am I too greedy if I’ll ask for sex call with him?? 🥲

when the pervy old man meets his match

tags: smut, nsfw, fem reader, phone sex, competitive dirty talk, established relationship, reader is just as much of a menace as Stan

hey honey thank you so much! here it is! it's honestly just full of dialogues lmao. sorry i wrote this in a depraved frenzy and did not look back. if there are mistakes, pretend you don’t see them. if it’s too filthy, no it’s not<3 mb I'll correct it later

your phone rings and it's midnight. a little devilish smile appears on your lips. you know exactly who it is.

“finally,” you purr, picking up. “was wondering how long it’d take for you to crack, old man.”

“tch. crack?” Stan scoffs. “sweetheart, i was givin' you a chance to call first. figured you’d get too desperate to wait.”

you smirk, rolling onto your back. ”oh, is that what you think?”

“i know it.” he laughs. “ain’t had my hands on ya in three whole days. bet you’re losin’ your goddamn mind over it.”

cocky bastard.

“hmm,” you hum in amusement. “who said i haven’t had my hands on myself instead?”

“heh, sure, doll, then you just laid there all frustrated, wishin’ it was me instead of your hand.”

“oh, no, Stan,” you interrupt innocently. “i came.” he stops breathing. “mm, and it felt so good, too, made such a mess. you would’ve loved it.”

Stanley goes silent. oh, you’ve got him now. “. . . the fuck’d you just say?”

you stretch out on the bed, imagining the look on his face. jaw tight. eyes dark. grip white-knuckling his phone.

“you heard me,” you coo. “been keeping myself nice and satisfied while you’re gone.”

a lie. a blatant, filthy lie. of course you want him. but you won’t say that. not yet.

“what’s the matter?” you murmur, teasing. “dont tell me. . . you jealous of my fingers?”

Stan lets out a harsh breath. “yeah, actually,” he growls. “bet they don’t even get the job done right and you still finish all needy and desperate, just wishin’ it was my cock instead.”

fuck. your breath hitches slightly, so tiny, but Stan hears it.

“. . . ohhh, that gotcha, huh?” his voice dips, turning low. “ya can play all confident, sweetheart, act like ya ain’t fuckin’ sufferin’ without me, like ya ain’t practically drippin’ just hearin’ my voice—“

you swallow. hard. your smile fades from your confident face

“but we both know the truth, don’t we?”

no, you don't give up. “you sound real worked up, Stanley. do you need me to take care of it for you?”

a sharp inhale from the other end. “heh,” he grits out. “you wish.”

“yeah, sounds like you’re getting all hot and bothered over there. you’re already touching yourself, huh? couldn’t help it?”

“hah,” Stan scoffs, but his voice sounds weaker now. oh, you’re winning.

“c’mon, baby,” you whisper in a honey-sweet voice. “tell me. are you hard?”

he exhales through his teeth. “maybe.”

“aw, poor Stanley, been away from me too long, huh? you must be so worked up, all desperate and aching. . .”

Stan grins. “sweetheart, i’m a grown-ass man. i ain’t desperate for anything.”

you pause long enough to make his skin prickle. then softly and slowly you say quietly “so you’re not hard right now?”

fuck. his body betrays him instantly. because, obviously he is. painfully so. has been since the second he heard your voice, if he’s being honest. but like hell is he gonna admit that to you.

“nah,” he lies too quickly.

you giggle. “liar.”

“shut up,” he mutters.

“sorry, Stanley, i cant shut up, thinking about how i’d drop to my knees for you, pull your pants down real slow, press my tongue right up against that thick cock and—”

“oh, for fuck’s sake—“

“you’d be so sensitive, all needy and throbbing for me. i could get you begging in five minutes.”

“like hell you could!”

your laugh is pure evil. “oh, really?” Stan knows that tone, he’s in trouble. “wanna prove it, old man?”

Stan grits his teeth. “you little minx,” he growls. “fine. you wanna play? we play. wanna know what i think?” your stomach tightens, you're so not ready to hear that. but it's so damn sexy when he gets like that. “i know you’re sittin’ there all wet and needy, waitin’ for me to take over.”

your breath catches as your fingers start moving faster.

“aww, see? can hear it in your breath, baby. you love lettin’ me take control, huh? love bein’ my little plaything?”

you grip the sheets.

“y’think about my cock, huh?” that bastard teases. ”you ache for it and dream about me splittin’ you open, fuckin’ you deep ‘til you cry.”

your thighs press together as you try to bring yourself to orgasm while he talks.

“tell me, baby, what’s your favorite way for me to fuck ya?”

you stop for a second, breathing. “. . .i dunno, you tell me.”

Stan groans and laughs. “that’s what i thought. you like it every way i give it to ya. you like gettin’ thrown around, pinned down, bent over. like when i take my time, when i tease, when i make you beg for it. like when i spread your legs and fuck ya slow, so deep your little cunt flutters around me, just tryin’ to suck me in.”

you let out a quiet sob, rubbing your clit harder. shit. okay. he came prepared.

“remember the last time i had ya?” fuck. he's dirty for this. “spread ya out on the kitchen table, pushed those pretty little legs open, had ya beggin' for my cock while i just tapped it against that messy little cunt.”

heat spikes through your belly. your brain melting

“and you were so fuckin’ wet, so messy for me. couldn't even hold still. had to pin ya down, keep ya in place, make ya take it nice and deep. and god, the way ya screamed when i finally gave it to ya,” he groans, pumping his twitching cock. “cried so pretty for me, took every single inch like a good fuckin’ girl.”

you exhale.

“aw, babyy,” Stan mocks. “gettin’ all squirmy over there? miss me poundin’ that tight little cunt open? miss feelin’ my cock knockin’ up against your cervix?”

oh, this bastard. he knows exactly what he’s doing. knows how to talk you into a goddamn frenzy, how to drag you through every memory, making you feel it all over again. but you won’t let him win.

“eh, big talk for a man who passed out immediately after a blowjob.”

Stan huffs.

“it's just,” you muse. “i think i might need to find someone who can actually keep up with me.”

“sweetheart,” he growls. “don't fuckin' start with me.”

you grin. “what, old man? afraid someone else could fuck me better?”

“honestly, you're such a fucking brat.” he mutters resentfully.

“and you're all alone, jerking off to the thought of me like some pathetic old pervert.”

Stan groans and that sound makes you clench around nothing.

“hehe, you stroking it, old man? pumping that fat cock real slow, thinkin’ about how tight my pussy is?”

his eyes widen. wow. . . you're too brave today. he likes that. “sweet moses,” you hear him groaning.

“tell me, baby, am i right? it's throbbing? just begging to be buried inside me?”

“fuckin’ hell,” Stan hisses. “fuck, f-fuck, shit. . .”

wide cocky smile appears on your face. oh you love this. love how you can hear the tension in his breath, imagining how he’s gripping himself too tight, trying to hold on, trying not to lose.

but he’s gonna. he’s so gonna.

“y’know what i was thinking about earlier?” you murmur.

Stan swallows. “wh-what?”

you grin. “how deep you get when you fuck me.” Stan's response is low whimper when he circles his leaking tip with his fingers. “no, seriously, you stretch me so wide, Stanley. get all the way up against my cervix, push me down into the mattress, just ruining me. i love hearing your groans when i bite your shoulder.”

his breathing is much heavier now, he's already so close.

“Stanley? you close?“

“y-you’re gonna fuckin’ regret this,” he grits out.

“what’s wrong, old man? you were all big and bad a second ago. now ya can’t even keep up? i know how bad you want it, how much you miss the way i take you so deep, so tight”

Stanley is so fucking close.

“you’re leaking, huh? and you’re still trying to hold back,” another mocking sympathy from you. “so stubborn, determined not to let me win. guess i’ll just have to break you, then. oh yeah,” you laugh when you hear another moan from him. “that gotcha, huh? i know you’d love that, you’d love me getting on top, riding you all slow and deep, keeping you right on the edge ‘till you’re begging me for it, begging me to let you cum inside of me.”

“f-fuck, baby, just. . . just like that,” his voice is shaking.

“you gonna cum, Stan? gonna make a mess all over yourself just from hearing my voice?”

“you—fuck—you little—”

suddenly his phone vibrates with a notification. you just sent him a photo.

he barely has time to open it before he sees you, spread out as you fuck yourself open on your fingers.

Stan sucks in a sharp breath. “what. . . the fuck”

“somethin’ wrong?” you coo.

silence, hes silent until you hear choked loud “oh oh oh, fuckkk” and you know he lost, so fucking hard. his orgasm hits hard, violent, brain-melting, his body tensing, groaning your name through gritted teeth. you hear the sharp inhale, the shaky breath, the low, drawn-out moan as he spills messy over his fist.

“awww, couldn’t hold out, huh?”

Stan pants, breathless. “fuck you.”

“you wish,” you smirk, giggling.

“okay okay. you won.” Stanley admits, rubbing his sweaty forehead. “you won, baby.”

“but you put up a good fight, old man!”

he groans. “hot belgian waffles, what the hell am i gonna do with you?”

“maybe bend me over the second you get home and teach me a lesson?”

Stan chuckles. “oh, sweetheart, you have no idea what you just signed up for.”