#well maybe if i could live closer it could :/

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, in every time ࿐‧₊ 1943 - wounds and whispers

chapter summary: After an attack on the battlefield, Logan wakes up to you as his nurse in Italy during World War 2.

word count: 8.8k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: this one is short, and the ending is a bit abrupt, but i kind of wanted it to be that way- war is unpredictable. also, the ending is a tad bit different from the other endings, you'll see when you read! anyways, next chapter is when things get a little bit more interesting...

warnings/tags: mentions of injuries, fluff, angst, war, character death(s)

series masterlist - chapter 3 → chapter 5

A mere 43 years later and Logan was already in his second war since you died that last time. Part of him almost wished that he could die, maybe then he’d see you and get to hold you forever. But that just wasn’t in the cards for him; not when he had this healing, not when he was already 111 years old.

Logan's mind was swimming in a fog of pain as consciousness crept back in. The last thing he remembered was the deafening blast of gunfire and the sharp, searing pain that tore through his side as he charged forward in the midst of the chaos. War was hell, and he’d been through more than enough of them to know that. But this—this felt different.

His eyes fluttered open, the bright lights overhead blinding him for a moment as he groaned, trying to push himself up. His muscles screamed in protest, his entire body feeling like it had been torn apart and put back together again.

“Easy there, soldier.”

The voice was soft but firm, and it froze him in place. Logan’s heart skipped a beat, recognition flooding through him even though he knew it wasn’t possible. His vision focused, and then he saw you. Standing right over him, your face illuminated by the dim lights of the field hospital.

It was you.

Logan’s breath hitched, his mind spinning. He’d seen you die—he’d held you in his arms not long before everything faded. The memory of that night, the pain in your eyes, the blood pooling beneath you—it was burned into him. He’d lost you again. But now here you were, alive, standing in front of him like nothing had ever happened.

His throat tightened, but he forced himself to speak. “Y/N?” You probably didn’t hear him, given the quiet tone of his voice.

You smiled softly, stepping closer to him, your hands working with practiced care to check his wounds. “You’re lucky, you know,” you said, ignoring the way he looked at you, as if he'd seen a ghost. “The shrapnel didn’t hit anything vital. You’ll live.”

Logan swallowed hard, his eyes never leaving yours. He felt a pull, the same pull he’d felt every time he met you in a different life. But this time, it hurt even more. Because this was the first time he’d seen you since the last time you died, and now, here you were, again, as if the universe had decided to toy with him once more.

“Y/N…” he whispered again, his voice rough with emotion.

You glanced at him, your brows knitting together in confusion. “How do you know my name?”

Logan hesitated, his heart pounding. He couldn’t tell you—not yet. Not about the lives you’d lived before, not about the times he’d watched you die. He had to keep it together. You didn’t remember him, and that was both a blessing and a curse.

He cleared his throat, managing a tight smile. “Lucky guess,” he said, his voice strained, trying to mask the tidal wave of emotion crashing through him.

You gave him a curious look but didn’t press further. “Well, lucky or not, you should be more careful out there,” you said, turning your attention back to bandaging him up. “You’re not invincible, even if you act like it.”

Logan nearly chuckled at that. If only you knew. But instead, he gritted his teeth as you finished patching him up. The pain from the wound was nothing compared to the ache in his chest. He’d spent so many lifetimes with you, always losing you too soon. Always feeling like there wasn’t enough time.

And now, here you were again, standing so close to him, your hands gentle as you worked. He clenched his jaw, his mind racing with memories of you—of your smile, your laugh, the way you’d always found him, no matter the time or place.

But this wasn’t the past. This was 1943, and you didn’t know him. He had to play it cool, keep his distance, even though every instinct in him was screaming to reach out and hold you, to make sure you didn’t slip away again.

“Thanks,” he muttered, trying to keep his voice steady.

You gave him a small nod, satisfied with your work. “Well, you’re still not cleared to leave yet, so you’re not gonna get away from me that easily.” You grabbed a small flashlight from your pocket and leaned in a little closer, shining it into his eyes to check his pupils.

Logan grunted, feeling the warmth of your proximity. It was almost unbearable how familiar you felt, even though you didn’t know him—at least not in this lifetime. His eyes followed your movements, the way you focused on him like he was just another soldier you had to patch up. But to him, you were everything.

“You know,” you started, your voice calm but a little teasing, “you really shouldn’t be throwing yourself into the line of fire like that. Kinda hard for us to patch you up if you don’t have any parts left.”

Logan gave a low chuckle, though his heart wasn’t in it. “I’ll heal,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. His voice was rougher than usual, like the words were struggling to get past the weight of seeing you again, alive and breathing.

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Heal, huh? Well, you’re not invincible, soldier. Trust me, I’ve seen men think they’re untouchable, and they don’t last long in a place like this.”

Logan looked away, trying to focus on anything other than the sound of your voice. He didn’t want to make this harder on himself than it already was. “Guess I’ll just have to be more careful, then.”

You chuckled softly, finishing your check-up and tucking the flashlight back into your pocket. “Yeah, you do that.” There was a hint of amusement in your tone, but you were still clearly all business. “Now,” you looked at a clipboard in your hands, “James, you have a different name you’d like to go by?”

Logan grunted, his gaze fixed on you. The name ‘James’ felt foreign now, like a remnant of a past he didn't quite belong to anymore. His eyes flickered to the clipboard, then back to your face. The memories of every life you'd lived flashed through his mind, each one ending the same way, with you slipping away from him.

“Logan,” he said, his voice a bit rougher than he intended.

You looked up, scribbling something down. “Logan, huh?” You nodded, writing it down. “Suits you better than James… I think.”

Logan gave a small grunt, a mix of acknowledgment and the emotions he was keeping buried. He couldn’t tell you how much it hurt hearing you say his name, knowing you didn’t remember him at all. Every time he heard your voice, it was like a punch to the gut—a reminder that no matter how many times you came back, he was always starting over, and you… you were always slipping away.

“Glad you approve,” Logan muttered, his eyes drifting away from you. He was trying hard not to stare, trying not to let the overwhelming rush of memories take over. You looked the same, almost exactly as you had the last time—before George pulled that damn trigger.

You didn’t seem to notice the tension radiating from him, too focused on the task at hand. “Well, Logan,” you said, setting the clipboard aside. “You’ll need to stay here for observation, at least for the night. Make sure your body’s handling the recovery properly. We’ve seen some soldiers who think they’re fine, and then—” You made a gesture, mimicking someone fainting, a half-smile tugging at your lips.

Logan’s eyes flicked to the floor, suppressing the mix of emotions threatening to boil over. That small smile—the one you always had, no matter how many lives you lived—was painfully familiar. Each time, the same softness, the same warmth. But this time, it cut deeper because he knew how this would end. You’d be gone. Again.

“You’re real good at this, aren’t ya?” Logan said, his voice low, trying to sound casual despite the weight of everything between you two, or at least, everything he carried alone.

You shrugged, your smile widening just a little. “I’ve had a lot of practice lately. War isn’t exactly kind to anyone.” Your eyes softened for a moment, like you were remembering someone, but you shook it off, standing straighter. “But, yeah. It’s what I do.”

Logan’s jaw tightened as he fought the urge to tell you everything, to scream at the universe for pulling you into his life only to tear you away. But he couldn’t. Not this time. He had to play along, had to act like this was the first time he’d ever met you.

He nodded, letting out a deep breath. “Guess we’re both used to it, then. War and all.”

You glanced at him, curiosity flickering in your eyes. “Yeah?” There was a pause as you sat down on the edge of the bed next to him. “You seem… different from the other soldiers I’ve patched up. Seen a lot, huh?”

Logan leaned back slightly, his hand brushing against the place where the ring still rested in his pocket. He hadn’t taken it out in years. “More than you’d believe.”

There was a quiet moment between you, your gaze lingering on him as if trying to figure him out. “Well,” you said, breaking the silence, “let’s hope you don’t add anything else to that list while you’re here.”

Logan couldn’t help the bitter chuckle that escaped his throat. If only you knew what was on that list already. If only he could tell you how many times he’d seen you die, how many times he’d watched your life slip through his fingers. But instead, he just nodded again.

“I’ll try,” he muttered, though the words felt hollow.

As you stood up, preparing to check on the next patient, you paused, glancing back at him. There was something in your eyes, something almost familiar. But then, you smiled again—kind, unaware of the history Logan held with you—and walked away, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Logan exhaled slowly, the ache in his chest growing heavier. He had to stay strong, had to keep his distance. But deep down, he knew he was already caught, already tangled in the same painful cycle.

He slipped his hand into his pocket, fingers brushing against the smooth surface of the engagement ring he’d never had the chance to give you.

Maybe this time, he thought. Maybe this time, you’d survive.

But Logan knew better than to hope.

---

You checked in with one of the doctors when Sandra, your friend and fellow nurse, put a hand on your shoulder and turned you to face her.

“Does he have a nice voice?”

You snorted, shaking your head at Sandra. "A nice voice? That’s what you want to ask?”

Sandra grinned, unbothered by your sarcasm. “Well, I saw the way you were looking at him. Thought maybe he had some mysterious, deep, soldier-thing going on.”

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed a clipboard from the nearby desk. “He’s just a patient, Sandra.”

“Uh-huh, sure.” Sandra leaned in, lowering her voice. “You didn’t exactly hurry out of that room.”

You shot her a look. “I was doing my job.”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, clearly not buying it. “So... does he?”

You sighed, unable to stop a small smile from creeping onto your face. “Yeah, okay. Maybe a little. He’s got that gruff, low thing going on.”

“I knew it!” Sandra nudged your shoulder, her expression smug. “You’re into the mysterious types.”

“Oh, come on,” you muttered, flipping through the papers on your clipboard, though none of it really held your focus. Your mind drifted back to Logan’s face—his eyes, the way he carried himself like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. There was something about him, something that felt... familiar. But you brushed it off. That wasn’t possible.

“I’m not into anyone,” you said quickly, snapping back to reality. “Especially not a guy I’ve known for like five minutes.”

Sandra raised her hands in surrender, smirking. “Alright, alright. I’ll drop it.” But the teasing gleam in her eyes suggested she wasn’t done with the subject.

You gave her a half-hearted glare before heading off to check on another patient. But as much as you tried to focus, your thoughts kept drifting back to Logan. The way his voice had this gravelly edge to it, how it felt like he was holding something back every time he spoke. And then there was the way he looked at you—like he recognized you, like you were someone important.

But that couldn’t be right.

---

You came to check on Logan later that night before you’d head back to your quarters for some rest. The makeshift hospital was quieter now, just a few murmurs from patients in the distance. Your shift had been long, draining, but something about checking on Logan felt... different.

You pushed the door open, stepping into the dimly lit room. Logan was sitting up on the bed, his expression unreadable as he stared at the floor. His posture was tense, like he was carrying the weight of more than just a few injuries.

“How’re you feeling?” you asked softly, keeping your tone professional despite the strange pull you felt toward him.

Logan looked up at you, his eyes locking onto yours for a moment that seemed to stretch longer than it should. “Better. You know, thanks to you.”

You gave a small smile, stepping closer to the bed. “I’m just doing my job.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, his gaze drifting back to the floor. “Still, you’re good at it.”

There was that same heaviness in his voice, like he was holding back more than just gratitude. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but something about him felt... familiar. It was strange, like you knew him somehow, but you brushed the thought away.

“You should get some rest,” you said, checking the bandage on his side. Your fingertips lingered on the spot where the bloody wound had been earlier, but there was nothing—just smooth skin, as if it had never been there at all. Your brow furrowed, lips parting slightly in disbelief. You’d seen the gash when they’d brought him in, deep and ugly, impossible to heal so quickly.

Logan’s muscles tensed under your touch, and when you glanced at him, his expression was guarded, like he was bracing for something.

"That’s... impossible," you murmured, more to yourself than to him. "It was bad earlier. There should at least be... a scar."

Logan shrugged, trying to act indifferent, but the movement was stiff. "Guess I got lucky."

You pulled your hand back slowly, still frowning. “Lucky doesn’t cover it. I’ve never seen anyone heal like that.” You tilted your head, curiosity edging into your voice. “How?”

His jaw tightened. "It happens."

“That’s not much of an answer.” Your arms crossed over your chest, and the edge in your tone softened just a bit. “You’ve got to admit it’s... weird.”

Logan gave you a look, one that made you feel like he was sizing you up, trying to figure out how much he could say. Or maybe how little. "Weird, yeah," he muttered, voice low. "Not much I can do about it, though."

You knew a deflection when you heard one, but you let it go—for now. You weren’t sure why you felt compelled to trust him, but there was something in his eyes, in the way he spoke, that made it impossible not to.

Sitting down on the edge of his bed, you shook your head with a faint smile. "Well, however it happened, you’re lucky I didn’t call the doctors in to see this miracle." You gave him a teasing look. “You’d be their new favorite science project.”

A ghost of a grin tugged at the corner of Logan’s mouth, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Yeah, I’d rather avoid that."

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence. It should have been awkward, but it wasn’t. There was something strangely easy about being near him, like you’d known each other for years. You glanced at his hands—rough, calloused, like they’d seen more battles than you could imagine—and wondered just how much he’d been through.

"Why do I feel like there’s more to you than you’re letting on?" you asked softly.

Logan’s gaze flicked to yours, something unreadable in his expression. "You ever meet someone and feel like you’ve known ’em before?"

His words struck a nerve, sending a chill down your spine. You swallowed, the strange familiarity between you two suddenly harder to ignore. "Yeah... I guess I have."

Logan nodded, his gaze dropping to his hands. He rubbed his thumb against the curve of his knuckle—a nervous habit, maybe. Or just old memories surfacing.

"You should get some rest," you said quietly, almost reluctantly. It felt wrong to leave, like there was more to say, even if you didn’t know what.

"I’m not good at rest," Logan admitted, voice low.

You gave a soft laugh. "No one is these days."

As you stood up, Logan’s hand moved slightly—just enough that the tips of his fingers brushed yours, barely a touch but enough to make your heart skip. You looked down at him, surprised by how natural it felt, like you’d been standing this close to him a thousand times before.

For a moment, it seemed like Logan might say something—something important. His hand hovered near his pocket, where a small, heavy object pressed against the fabric. But then he stopped himself, his jaw clenching as if he’d changed his mind at the last second.

"Goodnight," you whispered, your voice softer than before.

Logan gave you a short nod, but his eyes followed you as you stepped away, like he was memorizing the moment—like it might slip away from him if he looked away for even a second.

---

The next morning, when you went to check on Logan, he was sitting on the edge of his bed, buttoning up his shirt over his white beater.

“Hey—wait.” You stepped in front of Logan, your hands instinctively finding his forearm as he finished buttoning his shirt. “You’re not cleared to leave yet.”

Logan’s eyes flicked to yours, and for a moment, something passed between you—like the echo of a memory, distant but familiar. He gave you a half-smile, the kind that looked more like a grimace, and kept working on the last button.

“Gotta go,” he muttered. “Don’t do well sittin’ still.”

You crossed your arms, not budging. “Doesn’t mean you get to walk out of here half-healed.”

His gaze darkened, jaw clenching as if biting back words. You could tell he didn’t like being told what to do, but there was something more in his expression—something haunted, buried beneath that tough exterior.

“You think I can’t handle it?” he asked, voice low, gravelly.

“It’s not about what you can handle.” Your eyes softened, a hint of frustration slipping through. “It’s about what’s smart. I’ve patched up enough soldiers to know that leavin’ too soon isn’t.”

Logan’s lips twitched, like he might argue, but then he stilled, studying you with a strange intensity. The weight of his stare made your breath hitch for a second, but you refused to back down.

“Stay,” you insisted. “At least for another day. Let the wound close properly.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, like it was more trouble than it was worth to argue with you. “You always this stubborn?”

A smile tugged at your lips. “Yeah. Part of the charm.”

Logan huffed, a reluctant laugh buried somewhere in the sound. He leaned forward slightly, his knees brushing yours where you stood between his legs. The air felt heavier—charged with something neither of you could quite name.

“Y/N...” The way your name left his mouth was different. Familiar, almost reverent, like he was tasting the sound of it after a long time.

Your heart stuttered in your chest. “What?”

Logan’s hand drifted toward his pocket, hesitating just for a beat. He seemed to think better of it and instead leaned back, propping himself on his palms like he was trying to keep his distance.

“Nothing.” His tone was gruff, evasive, but you knew there was more he wasn’t saying.

You stayed where you were, close enough to feel the warmth of him. “You’re not really going to leave, are you?”

Logan’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Shouldn’t stick around too long.”

“Why not?”

He ran a hand through his dark hair, frustrated. “I just shouldn’t.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, like they carried the weight of something unsaid—something important. But before you could push further, Logan shifted on the bed, brushing past you as if putting space between you would make it easier.

“Look...” His voice softened just slightly, almost apologetic. “You shouldn’t worry about me. I’ve been through worse.”

You tilted your head, watching him carefully. “Maybe. But that doesn’t mean you have to go through this alone.”

Logan’s gaze flicked to yours, and for a moment, the walls he kept up seemed to crack, just a little. He looked at you like you were someone he wanted to hold onto, but couldn’t—like you’d slip through his fingers if he let himself get too close.

You leaned in just a bit, your voice barely above a whisper. “Let me help, Logan.”

The way his name fell from your lips sent a flicker of something through him—something dangerous, vulnerable, like it meant too much. His breath hitched, and for a second, you thought he might tell you whatever he was holding back.

But instead, he gave you a tight smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You already have.”

It felt like the conversation was teetering on the edge of something, but neither of you were ready to tip it over just yet.

“You win,” he muttered finally, his tone rough but resigned. “I’ll stay... one more day.”

You grinned, victorious. “Good. I’ll hold you to that. Maybe I’ll even let ya accompany me to the mess tent for lunch.” You held up a finger, playful but firm. “But only if you’re good.”

Logan gave a soft huff, the closest thing to a laugh you’d gotten out of him all day. “You makin’ the rules now?”

“That’s right,” you said with a smirk. “I am the nurse, after all.”

He shook his head, amused despite himself. “Fair enough.”

You lingered a moment longer than necessary, and Logan didn’t move away. His hand twitched near his knee, like he was thinking about reaching for you. It wasn’t the kind of gesture that strangers made—it felt too familiar, too intimate, like muscle memory.

“See ya at lunch, then,” you murmured, trying to shake off the strange pull toward him.

Logan gave a small nod, but his gaze stayed on you as you turned toward the door. Just as you reached it, you glanced back over your shoulder.

“You better not sneak out while I’m gone,” you teased, though part of you wasn’t sure it was really a joke.

Logan’s lips quirked at the corner, but the look in his eyes was heavy, weighed down with something you couldn’t quite place. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

---

By the time lunch rolled around, you were half-expecting Logan to be gone—off on some stubborn mission to leave the hospital before you could stop him. But when you returned, there he was, sitting up on the bed and rolling the sleeves of his shirt to his forearms.

"Kept my end of the bargain," he said, giving you a crooked grin that was more shadow than smile.

“Guess that means you earned lunch.” You gestured toward the door, and Logan pushed himself off the bed with an ease that didn’t match the severity of the injury he'd arrived with. You gave him a skeptical glance but decided to let it slide—for now.

The two of you walked through the makeshift hospital in comfortable silence. You noticed how other soldiers gave him nods or muttered greetings in passing, even though none of them really knew him. Something about Logan just demanded respect—maybe it was the way he carried himself, or the way his eyes seemed to see right through you.

At the mess tent, you grabbed two metal trays, handing one to him. “Hope you’re not picky. The food’s... not exactly five-star.”

Logan smirked. “I’ve had worse.”

You sat together at a small table, away from the loudest group of soldiers. For a moment, it was almost peaceful, like the war outside didn’t exist. Logan picked at his food absently, and you couldn’t help but study him—how his hands moved, how his jaw clenched like he was always bracing for bad news.

“So... you’ve done this before?” you asked, breaking the quiet. “The soldier thing, I mean.”

Logan glanced at you, something flickering in his expression. “Yeah. A few times.”

A few times. The way he said it made it sound like more than just a couple of tours.

“Must’ve been rough,” you murmured, stirring your soup. “I can’t imagine coming back to it over and over.”

Logan’s gaze lingered on you, and for a second, you felt pinned under the weight of it. Like he knew something you didn’t. “You get used to it,” he muttered, but the sadness in his voice told a different story.

There was a beat of silence, and then you leaned forward slightly, your curiosity getting the better of you. “You ever... think about what you’d do, you know, if you weren’t here? If the war wasn’t happening?”

Logan stared at his tray, his jaw tightening like he was biting back something painful. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Once or twice.”

The way he said it made your chest ache, and before you could stop yourself, you asked, “What would you do?”

Logan’s thumb brushed along the edge of his tray—a nervous habit, like he was weighing whether to tell you the truth. “There’s someone,” he said slowly. “Someone I thought about settlin’ down with... a long time ago.”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden vulnerability in his voice. “What happened?”

Logan looked away, his expression hardening like a door slamming shut. “Didn’t work out.”

It wasn’t the whole story—you could tell that much. But you didn’t push. There was something in the way he said it, like the loss was still raw, even if it had happened years ago.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, unsure why you felt the need to say it.

Logan gave a small shrug, like it didn’t matter. But you knew better. It did matter. It mattered a lot.

---

After lunch, the two of you lingered outside the tent, neither of you in a rush to return to the chaos inside. The sun was warm on your face, a rare moment of peace in a world that had been anything but peaceful lately.

“You’re not what I expected,” you said suddenly, glancing at Logan.

He raised an eyebrow. “What’d you expect?”

You shrugged, smiling. “I don’t know. Maybe someone more... closed off. But you’re not as much of a mystery as you think.”

Logan chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “You’d be surprised.”

You bit your lip, studying him. “You feel... familiar,” you admitted, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “Like we’ve met before.”

Logan went still, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you thought he might brush it off with some sarcastic comment. But instead, he looked at you with that same haunted expression you’d seen earlier—the one that made your chest tighten.

“Maybe we have,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

The words sent a strange chill down your spine. You stared at him, trying to piece together what he meant. But Logan didn’t offer any more answers. He just stood there, watching you like he was waiting for something.

Before you could ask, Sandra’s voice called from the distance, snapping you both out of the moment. “Y/N! Doctor’s looking for you.”

You sighed, giving Logan a small, reluctant smile. “Duty calls.”

Logan nodded, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Yeah. Better get to it.”

You hesitated for just a second longer, something inside you screaming that there was more to this—more to him. But instead, you gave him one last smile before turning away.

---

When Logan was alone again, he pulled the ring from his pocket, turning it over in his fingers. The weight of it was familiar, comforting in a way that only hurt more now.

He’d carried it through battles, through lifetimes, always hoping—maybe this time. But hope had a way of slipping through his fingers, just like you always did.

Logan clenched the ring in his fist, his jaw tightening. He knew better than to hope. He always did. But still... here you were.

For now, at least.

---

The next day you begrudgingly cleared Logan and showed him to where he would be staying before he got called away for another fight. It was a small quarters, shared with some of the other guys, but it was better than the hospital bed.

You should know. Sometimes you’ve taken power naps on those beds—when the hospital got too busy or you needed a break but couldn’t leave. They were uncomfortable as hell, but after long hours, you didn’t have much choice.

Logan tossed his bag on the bunk, eyeing the cramped quarters. It wasn’t much—just a room with a few cots and a flimsy curtain dividing it from the rest of the barracks—but he didn’t seem to care.

“You’ll be all right here,” you said, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorframe.

Logan smirked, glancing at the bed like it was just another obstacle in his way. “I’ve had worse.”

You gave him a sideways glance, shaking your head slightly. “Yeah, I’m starting to see a pattern with you.”

He chuckled, low and gravelly, the sound doing strange things to your heart. His presence was so... solid. Like he’d been through hell and back, yet here he was, standing in front of you like nothing could break him.

“Well, don’t get too comfortable,” you added with a smirk. “There’s always a chance you’ll end up back in the infirmary if you’re not careful.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the wall, his arms crossing over his chest in a way that made the muscles in his forearms flex under his rolled-up sleeves. “You worried about me, nurse?”

“Maybe I am,” you teased, keeping it light even though part of you was serious. “I don’t want to have to stitch you back up.”

He laughed again, softer this time, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than just casual. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll heal.”

The words hung between you, something unspoken settling in. There was always something deeper with Logan, like the surface of his words barely scratched at the things he carried underneath.

Before you could respond, a couple of soldiers passed by, giving Logan nods of acknowledgment as they went. You noticed the way they looked at him, like he was someone who’d earned their respect without even trying.

Logan pushed off the wall, moving past you toward the door. “Thanks for the room,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “But I could use a drink.”

You laughed. “Well, good luck with that. This isn’t exactly the Ritz.”

He stopped just outside the door, turning back to you. His eyes were sharp, but there was something softer underneath. “You wanna join me?”

You paused, surprised by the offer. “Are you askin’ me out, Logan?”

His lips twitched into a half-smile. “Just tryin’ to be friendly.”

You let out a small huff of laughter, shaking your head as you grabbed your cap and followed him. “Fine. But if you’re looking for whiskey, you’re gonna be disappointed.”

The two of you walked in comfortable silence for a while, the sound of your boots crunching on the gravel road filling the air. The base had quieted down a bit as the sun dipped lower, the day easing into a calm that didn’t come often in a warzone.

As you walked, you couldn’t help but sneak a glance at Logan from time to time, trying to figure him out. He was so... different. From anyone you’d met. From any soldier you’d treated. And yet, he felt so familiar.

You found a small spot near one of the mess tents where a few crates had been stacked up like makeshift seats. Logan grabbed a canteen from his jacket, unscrewing the cap before taking a long drink. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“That better be water,” you joked, taking a seat beside him.

Logan handed you the canteen, smirking. “Try it and find out.”

You took a cautious sip, then immediately coughed, the burn of the alcohol catching you off guard. “God—what is this?”

“Something I picked up,” Logan said, eyes gleaming with amusement as you wiped your mouth. “Figured it’d help take the edge off.”

You gave him a playful glare, handing the canteen back. “Next time, a little warning, maybe?”

Logan shrugged, grinning. “Where’s the fun in that?”

You shook your head, smiling despite yourself. “You’re trouble, Logan.”

He chuckled, leaning back against the crate. “Been called worse.”

The two of you sat there in comfortable silence for a few moments, passing the canteen back and forth. The alcohol burned, but it wasn’t the worst thing you’d ever tasted—not by a long shot. And it did what Logan said it would—it took the edge off.

You studied him for a moment, the way he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, even when he was sitting still. “You feel familiar,” you said quietly, your voice almost drowned out by the soft sounds of the base around you. “Like we’ve met before.”

Logan’s expression shifted—just for a second. His jaw tightened, his gaze flickering away from you and toward the horizon. “Maybe we have,” he murmured, his voice so low you almost didn’t catch it.

The words sent a strange, unexplainable shiver down your spine. You opened your mouth to ask him what he meant, but before you could, he stood up, stretching his arms over his head like he was shaking something off.

“C’mon,” he said, his voice lighter now, almost like he was forcing it. “You ready to head back?”

You blinked, still caught in the haze of the moment. But you nodded, standing up and brushing the dirt from your uniform. “Yeah, I guess so.”

The two of you walked back toward the barracks in silence, the air between you feeling heavier now. Something had shifted—something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. But you knew it wasn’t nothing.

When you reached the barracks, Logan stopped at the door, turning to look at you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

“Y/N,” he started, his voice rougher than usual, like he was wrestling with something inside him. “If... if things ever get bad, you find me. Got it?”

You frowned, surprised by the seriousness in his tone. “Logan, what—”

“I’m serious,” he interrupted, his hazel eyes locking onto yours. “You find me. No matter what.”

You swallowed, nodding slowly. “Okay. I will.”

He held your gaze for a second longer, then nodded, like he was satisfied with your answer. “Good.”

Without another word, Logan turned and headed inside, leaving you standing there, the weight of his words settling over you like a heavy blanket.

What did he mean? Why did he look at you like he knew something you didn’t?

You lingered there for a moment before finally heading to your own quarters. But even as you lay in bed that night, staring up at the ceiling, Logan’s words echoed in your mind.

You find me. No matter what.

---

The next few days were a strange mix of routine and tension. Logan stayed around the base, mostly keeping to himself, but you found yourself crossing paths with him more often than you expected. Every time, there was that same intensity in his gaze, like he was watching you, waiting for something.

It wasn’t uncomfortable, exactly. But it did make your chest tighten every time you saw him.

One evening, as the sun began to set, you found yourself wandering toward the edge of the base, needing a moment to clear your head. The war, the patients, the constant pressure—it was all getting to you. And Logan... well, Logan wasn’t making things any easier.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t notice him until he spoke.

“Need some company?”

You jumped slightly, turning to find Logan leaning against a tree, arms crossed over his chest, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

“Jeez, you scared me,” you said, placing a hand over your heart.

“Didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” he said, pushing off the tree and walking over to stand beside you. “You looked like you could use some company.”

You sighed, glancing out at the fading sun. “Yeah, I guess I could.”

Logan didn’t say anything for a moment, just stood there beside you, his presence solid and reassuring. After a few beats of silence, he spoke.

“You doin’ all right?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.

You shrugged, trying to brush it off. “It’s just... a lot sometimes, you know?”

Logan nodded, his eyes never leaving your face. “Yeah. I get it.”

There was something in the way he said it—something that made you believe he really did get it. Like he knew exactly what it felt like to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders.

“Thanks for asking,” you said quietly, your gaze still focused on the horizon.

Logan was quiet for a long moment before he spoke again. “I meant what I said before,” he murmured. “You ever need anything... you come find me.”

You turned to look at him, the seriousness in his voice catching you off guard. “Logan... why are you doin’ this? Why are you looking out for me?”

Logan’s jaw tightened, and for a second, you thought he wasn’t going to answer. But then he spoke, his voice low and rough. “Because... you’re important. More than you know.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Important? How? Why?

Before you could ask, Logan stepped closer, his eyes locked onto yours. “Just promise me,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Promise me you’ll come find me if you need to.”

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. “I promise.”

Logan held your gaze for a moment longer, then nodded, satisfied. Without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, your head spinning with questions.

You’re important. More than you know.

What did that mean? Why did Logan feel so... familiar?

As the sun dipped below the horizon, you stood there, your mind racing. Logan had secrets—secrets you weren’t sure you were ready to uncover. But one thing was clear: whatever was between the two of you, it wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

---

On another day, you spotted Logan on the outskirts of base, sitting against a truck’s wheel with a notebook in hand.

He looked almost peaceful, maybe the most peaceful you’d ever seen him since he got here. Judging by the way he was moving his pencil, you assumed he was drawing something. You hesitated, not wanting to disturb him, but your curiosity got the better of you.

"Didn’t peg you for an artist," you said, walking over and leaning against the truck beside him.

Logan didn’t look up right away, just kept sketching, but there was a small smirk on his lips. "You learn a lot when you’ve got time," he muttered.

You glanced at the notebook, catching glimpses of rough lines and shadows. “What’re you drawing?”

He paused, almost like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to show you, then turned the notebook just enough for you to see. It was a sketch of the base—a surprisingly detailed one, with the buildings and surrounding trees, even some of the soldiers milling about.

“Not bad,” you said, genuinely impressed. “Didn’t know you had this in you.”

Logan shrugged, as if it was no big deal. “Like I said, a lot of time.” He looked at you then, and for a brief moment, there was something more behind his eyes, something deeper. “Keeps me grounded.”

You studied him, wondering what that really meant. Logan had always been a bit of a mystery, but there were moments—like now—where it felt like there was so much more to him than he let on.

“You ever thought about doing something with it? You know, beyond just sketches?” you asked, half teasing, half curious.

Logan let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “I’m not the ‘show-off my art’ type. It’s just... for me.” He glanced back at the drawing, his expression softening in a way you didn’t often see. “Helps me forget.”

You nodded, feeling a tug at your chest. “Forget what?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. Then he said, “Everything.”

The weight in his voice told you there was more to that statement—more than you could guess. You’d learned over the past few days that Logan was carrying his own kind of burden, just like you were. And yet, somehow, it felt like his was so much heavier.

“Must be a lot to forget,” you said softly.

Logan’s gaze flicked up to meet yours, and for a second, you thought he might actually open up. But instead, he just gave a noncommittal grunt and went back to his sketching.

You watched him for a while, feeling the comfortable silence settle between you. It was odd, but Logan’s presence had become... something you looked forward to. Even with all the unspoken tension, being around him made things feel a little less overwhelming.

“I never thanked you,” you said after a while, breaking the quiet. “For, you know... looking out for me.”

Logan’s pencil paused again, and he glanced up. “You don’t have to thank me.”

“I do,” you insisted, your eyes meeting his. “You didn’t have to. But you did.”

Logan shifted, looking slightly uncomfortable with the gratitude, but his eyes softened. “I told you. You’re important.”

That word again—important. You wanted to ask him why, wanted to press him on what he really meant by that, but something in his expression told you he wasn’t ready to answer. Not yet.

“Just… stay outta trouble,” Logan said, his voice dropping into something rougher, more serious. “I’d rather not have to pull you out of any more messes.”

You smiled, trying to keep things light. “I’ll do my best. But, you know, being a nurse in the middle of a war, trouble kinda finds me.”

Logan let out a soft huff of a laugh, though there wasn’t much humor in it. “Yeah, I guess it does.”

The sky was growing darker now, the last traces of sunlight fading. You knew you should probably head back to the barracks soon, but something kept you rooted to the spot, standing beside him. The air between you felt charged, like there was something unspoken hanging there, waiting to be acknowledged.

“Logan,” you began, your voice quiet but steady. “Why does it feel like you’ve been watching me? Not just looking out for me, but... like you’ve known me.”

Logan’s jaw tightened. His eyes shifted, as if he was deciding whether to answer that. You could feel your heart thudding in your chest, waiting for his response.

“I haven’t,” he said finally, though his voice lacked conviction. “Not in the way you’re thinking.”

The way he said it made you frown. “What does that mean?”

Logan’s gaze held yours, intense and searching. There was a flicker of something there—regret? Pain? Before you could figure it out, he looked away, his fingers tightening around the edges of the notebook.

“It means… I don’t want you to get hurt,” he said, his voice low, almost a growl. “Not again.”

Again. There it was—a crack in the wall he’d built around himself. But before you could push him on it, Logan stood abruptly, tucking the notebook under his arm.

“You should get some rest,” he muttered, not meeting your eyes. “Long day tomorrow.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden shift. “Logan—”

But he was already walking away, his back stiff and his pace quick. You watched him go, your mind spinning with more questions than answers. Something was going on with Logan—something bigger than you’d realized.

And you had a feeling you weren’t going to let it go until you found out the truth.

---

The next morning you found out that Logan had already gone on some mission to Sicily. You weren’t sure why you felt sad, maybe a bit betrayed that he left without saying goodbye, but you did.

You had only known him for a few days, but somehow it seemed longer.

You couldn’t just stand around and dwell on Logan leaving without a goodbye. There was work to do. You made your way to the medical tent where a doctor had been prepping for a surgery. As you stepped inside, the familiar scent of antiseptic hit your nose, grounding you in the moment.

"Y/N, glad you’re here. We’ve got a soldier with a bullet wound to the abdomen," the doctor said, his tone brisk. "I need your hands steady and sharp today."

You nodded, pushing thoughts of Logan to the back of your mind. "Got it, Doctor."

The surgery went on for hours, the steady rhythm of your breathing matching the precise movements of your hands as you assisted. It was intense, but you had no time to be distracted. Life and death were real here, and your job was to fight for life.

When the surgery was finally over, the soldier stabilized, you stepped outside the tent to catch your breath. The sky was still overcast, and the damp air felt heavy. You leaned against a wooden post, your hands shaking slightly from the adrenaline.

Logan was gone, but the memory of him lingered. You couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d left something unsaid. There had been too many moments—too many heavy, unspoken words between you. You tried to brush it off. It had only been a few days since you’d met him, after all. But somehow, it felt like more.

"Y/N."

You looked up to see one of the other nurses approaching. "Yeah?"

"You’ve been requested to assist with another unit. They’re setting up a temporary hospital closer to the front lines. It’ll be rough, but they need experienced hands."

You hesitated. The front lines meant more danger, more chaos. But the soldier in you—the part that was here to help, to make a difference—knew you couldn’t say no.

"When do I leave?" you asked, straightening up.

"Tomorrow morning, first light."

You nodded, giving a small smile. "Thanks for the heads-up."

That night, you tried to sleep, but your mind kept wandering back to Logan. To his last words before he’d left—"I don’t want you to get hurt. Not again." What had he meant by ‘again’? It kept echoing in your mind, nagging at you.

---

The next morning came quickly, and before you knew it, you were being packed into a truck heading closer to the front lines. The landscape passed by in a blur, and the closer you got to the new camp, the louder the sounds of war became. Shells exploded in the distance, and the ground seemed to vibrate with tension.

You spent the next few days in a haze of blood, bandages, and exhaustion. There was barely any time to think, let alone dwell on Logan. But still, every once in a while, your thoughts drifted to him—wondering where he was, what he was doing. If he was safe.

It was late one night, a few days into your new assignment, when the unexpected happened. The sirens had started to blare, lights flashing around camp. That could only mean one thing- you were under attack. And judging by the loud engines overhead, none of you were going to make it out alive.

---

Logan had gone with other soldiers to Sicily for Operation Husky. He didn’t want to leave you, but part of him thought, hoped, that maybe he was your bad luck charm.

Logan stared at the coastline of Sicily, but his mind was elsewhere. The mission was straightforward—get in, clear the path for the troops, and secure the area. But no matter how focused he tried to stay, thoughts of you kept creeping back in. He wondered if you were safe. He hoped, for your sake, that you weren’t thinking about him as much as he was thinking about you.

It was torture, being away. But deep down, Logan believed it was better this way. Maybe him being around was what doomed you every time. You had died three times before, and each time, he had been there. Maybe this time, distance would keep you safe.

But that didn’t stop him from wanting you. The thought of your smile, your laughter, the way you challenged him—it made him ache with something deeper than just desire. It was like an old wound that never healed, no matter how fast the rest of him did.

One of the soldiers called his name, pulling him from his thoughts. “Logan, you with us, man?”

He grunted in response, nodding toward the others. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“Good,” the guy said. “We’re heading out.”

Logan followed, but his thoughts drifted again, back to you. He had promised himself he wouldn’t get attached this time. But it was too late for that. He’d been attached since 1854, since that first smile, that first laugh.

---

It was a few days before Logan made it back to base, one closer to the frontlines. The mission had gone as planned, but something gnawed at him, an uneasy feeling he couldn’t shake.

As soon as the base came into view, Logan noticed something was off. Smoke still lingered in the air, and there were fewer people around than there should’ve been. His gut twisted. Something had happened while he was gone.

He found one of the soldiers he recognized, grabbing him by the arm. “What happened here?”

The guy’s face darkened. “We were hit. Bombing raid. Caught us off guard. There... there weren’t many survivors.”

Logan’s heart dropped. “Where’s the hospital unit?”

The soldier hesitated, eyes flicking away from Logan’s intense gaze. “It was one of the first targets. No one made it out.”

Logan felt like the ground had dropped from under him. “What do you mean, no one?” His voice was a low growl, almost dangerous.

The soldier shook his head. “I’m sorry, man. They didn’t stand a chance.”

Logan’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. The world around him blurred as the words sank in. You were gone. Again.

Without saying another word, Logan turned and walked toward what was left of the hospital tent. He had to see it for himself, even though part of him knew it was true. There was nothing left but rubble and debris.

His chest tightened, the weight of it crushing. You were gone. And he hadn’t been there to stop it. Again.

Logan stood there for what felt like hours, staring at the wreckage. He felt that familiar, burning anger rising inside him, but it was mixed with something else this time—grief. Deep, raw grief. He wanted to scream, to punch something, anything, but all he could do was stand there, numb.

He reached into his pocket, fingers brushing against the small velvet box he always carried with him. The engagement ring. The one he had never used.

It had been almost ninety years since he bought it. And still, he carried it, hoping one day he might finally be able to give it to you. But every time, every life, you slipped through his fingers.

Logan swallowed hard, his throat tight. He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. How many more times he could lose you.

“Dammit,” he muttered under his breath, his voice rough with emotion.

He had thought putting distance between you two would protect you. But it didn’t matter. You were gone, just like the other times.

And now, once again, he was left with nothing but memories and that damned ring.

in this chapter logan is 111 years old and reader is around 24-27 years old.

[boolger]

A lapdog at a farm - chapter 5

<-former chapter -AO3 link -next chapter -> Call of duty. My ko-fi, Explicit, 18+, minors do not interact. read the tags. WC: 6.3k

tags: Rape/non-con elements, dub-con, dog!hybrid!people being kept as pets, alternative universe - farm, dark, farmer!John Price, working-dogs, punishments, mating cycles/rut/heat (no omegaverse), the dove isn't dead but its dying, it dies later on, reader is a brat, knotting, animal tails and ears, mentions of trauma, violence, angst, hurt/comfort, collars, rough sex, breeding kink, biting, threesome, foursome, everyone is fucking your honor, enemies to lovers, chubby reader, reader has a pussy

MDNI. MDNI. Dead dove do not eat.

Authors note: do note there will be the use of prong collars in this. Just like all the other fucked up stuff in this, i don't support that irl, but this is fiction. On a different note, it will probably be at least a week before I can give you another chapter lol, shit is happening, my sinners and im holding on. Also thank u to all the nice asks and comments ive been sent. means a lot <33. ENJOY!

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You could only stay in the farmhouse for so long; even though you desperately wanted to stay inside, Price dragged you outside, talking about fresh air and enjoying nature. 

To you it was nothing but lies and the smell of animal shit.

There were no pavements, no cars flashing by, no advertisements or shops, no scents of food or sweets trying to lure you in. There were no hybrid clothes shops, where John would play dress up with you for his next party. Show him how the lingerie set he picked out looked against your tail.

He would make sure your nails were always perfect and manicured. Without the claws, he made sure you knew you were loved anyways, your nails adorned with expensive nail polish and gemstones. Anything that his Daisy, his princess, his darling, his puppy wanted, she always got.

Now you were here, following him into the stables, to see how far Nikolai - who had forced himself into your life - was with the tractor.

Warily looking out for the hybrids, staying close to your owner.

The stitches were gone and everything was healed all nicely - that didn’t mean that you wanted to start over and get more bites that would need stitches. Once was enough. Hopefully Price and Nikolai understood that too.

Also, you didn’t want to get fucked dumb by those mutts again; they didn’t deserve your pussy. Especially not Ghost or Gaz. Not really Soap either, he had just been nice because he had to. You were sure. They were nothing but stupid working dogs, who didn’t know how to behave.

Your owner, John Price, looked in love; he was watching Nik just as much as he was watching the tractor. The stress that had sometimes followed him home when you lived in the city was no longer visible. It had left his bones, made him happy and pliable, clearly blossoming in his new role as a farmer. You loved him but what the fuck were you supposed to do with this whole situation? Pretend to be happy?

You were a pet, so it wasn’t like you had any options. And your attempts at persuading him to move back to the city hadn’t gone well. Resisting your ever present urge to let him fuck you, would probably not do you any good. Earn you a spanking from both him and Nikolai. They might even throw you to the hounds.

One of those said hounds were getting closer to you, the hybrid making you tense up a little.

“You’re looking good, princess,” Gaz said casually, shooting you an awfully charming smile, his tail wagging while you tipped your ears backwards instead of replying.

“Feeling better?”

You didn’t reply, merely stared at the tractor, boring as it was. Maybe if you ignored him, he would go away. He stepped closer to you, his dark gaze resting on you, while you stepped closer to John, growling as a warning.

“Behave,” Price said over his shoulder, clearly more interested in that Russian man of his, than your safety.

It only took another step and Gaz’s teeth a tad too close to you, to send you bolting out. Back inside it was then, you concluded, enough farming bullshit for today.

Only to meet Ghost in the way, his scarred face grinning smugly, ears tipping towards you.

“‘Ello pup.”

Nah, you weren’t fucking with that today. You managed to see the shadow of Soap before you bolted again.

Running still wasn’t your best talent; so though you knew it was stupid, you decided to do what you weren’t allowed to anyways. You crawled the wooden fence, ignoring the male hybrids' shouts and barks — as well as the fence’s slight squeak - and landed on the other side with a grunt. 

The corns were tall and you took a breath, looking over your shoulder, only to see a worried looking Soap being the closest.

He let out a concerned whimper.

“Dinnae lass,” he warned, a softness in his voice that you recognized from your moments inside.

You would deal with the consequences and the punishment that Price would give you for leaving the ground. It was better than getting your shoulders bitten to pieces - so you got up and rushed into the tall corn field. Abandoning the male hybrids.

Stupid. They were all stupid.

Maybe this should be your new go-to hiding spot. You could hear them bark aggressively but not getting nearer. They weren’t allowed to leave either. You felt your chest swell a little with pride over the idea. You wouldn't be gone for long, just until they lost interest in you.

It was several seconds before you stopped, panting with your tongue out. You couldn’t see the fence or the farm from all the corn by now, which finally meant some peace. Your tail wagged and your body relaxed, a soft wind playing with your fur for a moment, making the corn move around you, like waves in the ocean.

However, that peace didn’t last long.

“My my,” the voice almost appeared out of nowhere and you turned slowly, unsure but still afraid of what you would see, “what are you doing here, perrita? On my property?”

You knew Alejandro and Rodolfo had gotten a hybrid, but you had been too swept up in your own nightmare to ask about her; now, as she towered above you, seeming more wolf than dog, you would rather have one of the mutts on your own farm. A scared little whimper escaped you.

“You must be Price’s precious lapdog, no?” She asked, slowly moving in between the corn with ease, as she circled around you, fear making you stay still, “a little city puppy, forced to be out on a farm. How sad.”

There was no trace of sympathy in her voice. It took you a moment to swallow some spit and another moment to take a proper breath.

“I’ll go home again, I’m sorry.” You tried your best to seem submissive, leaning forward a little, tail tugged along your leg. You at least had your owner at the farm - but here? Here, with this new, wolf-like hybrid, you didn't have anyone. You weren’t even supposed to be here, weren’t allowed. Sure, you knew Alejandro and Rudy, but they also knew you weren’t supposed to be there.

“Hmmm,” she answered in a rumble, licking her teeth slowly, casually showing off her fangs, “what’s your name, perrita?”

She screamed danger. Her energy screamed ‘I can make worse wounds than them’ and you certainly didn’t feel like testing that. In fact, you would rather get as much distance between you and her as possible.

“D-Daisy.” It was the name Price had chosen, not that you were really called it. But you weren’t going to tell this hybrid woman who looked like she could swallow you whole, that you were usually called princess, pretty girl, puppy or sweetheart.

“I’m Valeria,” she replied, finally stopping her circling, only to step closer to you. She wasn’t really that tall, but her energy was as if she was,  she had strong arms and legs; scars littered her too, her hair short, ears big and tipped forward without a care in the world. Her collar was thick and sturdy, opposed to your own fancy one.

You almost wanted to point out that yours was prettier. That you were a lapdog, not one of the working ones, that you were not made to be played rough with. That you were no threat.

You could hear barking in the distance. Voices calling out for you. Even though you hadn’t met Valeria for more than a minute, you already knew you wanted to get a good distance between you and her.

“Uh nice to meet you, but I better get back home, sorry-“ you turned around quickly but before you could even think to bolt, strong arms were around you and the other dog hybrid pulled you close to her chest.

“Eres tan linda e ingenua,” she almost lovingly growled into your ear, and while you didn’t understand what she was saying, you were much more distracted by her tongue. She licked your cheek a couple of times, slow and wet strokes; you got the feeling that she might eat you raw without regret and you twisted a little in her grip, letting out a louder growl. She laughed, one of her hands pawing at your tit, claws sinking into the fabric. She smelled of danger and lust; like the mutts at home when they first got their dirty paws on you.

“I’m gonna enjoy me—“

“VALERIA!” Her name echoed through the fields, making both of you freeze. Like a warning rushing in between the corns, her name couldn’t be ignored.

She growled deeply, seeming annoyed with the disturbance, while you wanted to kiss whoever of your neighbors it was. She rolled her hips, humping your ass twice, before she was interrupted again.

“Valeria!” It was Alejandro, you realised then, who yelled once again, “ sé que la tienes! Let her go!”

With one deep sniff of you, while you whimpered, the wolf-looking hybrid finally let go of you.

“I won’t be as nice next time, perrita - now go, before I change my mind and take you from your boys.”

You didn’t need to be told that again and didn’t want to argue that they weren’t your boys - the moment she let go, you bolted towards the way you came. 

How they knew that she had gotten a hold of you wasn't clear, but it wasn’t like you were gonna turn around and ask Alejandro or Rudy.

The answer came to you anyways; one angry looking John Price stood with crossed arms, phone in hand. A grinning Nikolai next to him and three growling hybrids moving back and forth along the men and the fence. Every single one of them stilled and stared at you as you sheepishly walked to the fence, tail between your legs and ears tipped down.

You stood, just for a moment, with the fence in between you and the others. Considering staying there, as if that would be a good solution.

“Get your arse over here,” Price snapped, his voice stern and dark, as he put his phone in his pocket, marching towards you. 

You hastily and in a rather inexperienced manner, climbed the fence and got to the right side. Instantly, tears welled up in your eyes and you let out a whimper, almost ready to tell about the horrors you had just been through - only to bark loudly at the hybrids as they all charged towards you, hands touching you, only stopped by a sharp whistle. 

“Nyet,” Nikolai called harshly, “off her. Now.”

Soap and Gaz instantly let go, stepping back as John reached you, but Ghost didn’t move. His hand rested on your neck, pressing your collar against your skin, his nose almost fully pressed against your temple. 

“Let go.” Price’s voice was sharp and you let out a little whimper- not sure who of them you would rather deal with right now.

“She smells wrong,” Ghost replied, not moving, but his voice not as harsh as it could be, “smell of her.”

Her. You didn’t know whether Valeria would be in trouble over this or not. You had been the one to step into her territory anyways. She wasn't the one who had jumped a fence after all.

“We will fix that.” 

Ghost let out a grumble but after two seconds of staring at each other, the hybrid finally let go of you, earning himself a swift “Good boy.” 

Then Price grabbed into the ring in your collar and pulled, ignoring how you instantly broke into tears, excuses and explanations spilling from your lips like a waterfall, desperate to avoid punishment. You didn't want to stay with Valeria, but you didn’t want this either.

You were dragged past Nikolai who shared a short glance with Price - and they gave each other a short nod.

“C’mon boys,” Nikolai then called, the hybrids instantly moving to him, even though you could feel them staring at you, “we’re gonna join them.”

They were what? You cried harder, tugging at John’s arm, your owner ignoring your pleads and cries.

“I’m sorry sir, I got scared, I didn’t mean to run away,” you babbled, every second word followed by a small sob or whine, tail between your lets, almost making it hard to walk normally, “ they scared me, I was gonna come back, I’ll be good sir, I’ll behave! I wasn’t running away!”

There was no mercy from your owner, who just marched you towards the farmhouse that had almost become home by now.

If someone had told you a year ago that you would be a dog on a farm by now, surrounded by working hybrids, you would have laughed in their face. Loudly and impolitely.

You? Pretty lapdog living in the city out on a farm?

You weren’t even at the house yet, somehow crying harder because you felt so sorry for yourself in general. You were such a perfect lapdog, such a perfect being, forced to be out here, in the cold countryside. A tragedy.

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The prong collars looked like they would choke too and you wanted to scream merely at the sight.

“I’m not running the risk of having my darling all bitten to pieces again - this will hopefully help you to remember.”

None of them seemed too happy about it; you couldn’t blame them, you wouldn’t want those either, but you were horrified by the idea of getting bitten as harshly as they did last time. If both Price and Nik hadn’t been there, you doubted it would be possible to get the collars on them.

You were still crying yourself, from the shame of having jumped over the fence and creating chaos, only resulting in this.

The moment they were allowed, they were on you, ignoring your whimpering and fingers trying to push them off - Soap was the nicest, helping you get your clothes off instead of letting the others rip them, even if all of them were obsessed with your smell. Or well, with how you smelled of Valeria to be exact.

Soap licked your cheek and you growled at him, tipping your ears back, trying to push him away, fingers against his chest; but he didn’t move, only pressed himself closer, growling back to prove he was stronger than you - that you were supposed to be submitting to him.

“They shouldn’t be this aggressive,” you heard Price point out to Nikolai, but you were too distracted by Soap grinding his still clothed crotch against your poor, exposed cunt - you whined his name, but he didn’t stop. 

“Gonn’ mark ye, hen,” he promised in a murmur, teeth sinking into your jaw for just a moment - a warning tug in the leash made him let go almost instantly, instead licking the spot a couple of times, “gonn’ make ye smell all bonnie again.”

Both Gaz and Ghost were barking, but they were both held by the collars by Price and Nik, kneeling next to them, clearly antsy.

“-are working dogs-” it was hard to hear them, over your own mind buzzing so much, over the barks and the pleasure that you hated, “-hierachy is importa-”, one of Soap’s hands disappeared and a moment later, you heard his fly get tugged down, “show them where the line is, so–”

You howled in a high pitched tone as he forced his cock inside you, making you twist and try to push Soap okay. The stretch was intense, burning despite how wet you felt. “It's okay, bonnie lass,” Soap growled, forcing his cock a little deeper into you, nosing at your shoulder, near one of your scent glands, his hands moving to grab onto your thighs, “we’re nae gonna hurt ye.”

You both knew it was a lie - but you at least trusted Soap a little more than the two other mutts who were watching, knowing he could control himself. They were barely able to sit still, tongues out, almost drooling, while their eyes were dark in a way that reminded you of that time in the shed.

He forced his cock deeper, the knot finally reaching the opening of your poor, stretched cunt and you let out a sound at the fear of it sliding inside you. The scent of Soap was already beginning to overwhelm the scent that Valeria had left behind against your will - a part of you wished you had fought her more, had attempted to hurt her more.

The cry that left you was pained and afraid - his fangs almost having forced its way through your skin; you were only saved by John, who pulled Soap back by the collar, the prongs digging into the hybrid’s skin.

“Behave, boy,” John snarled while a mixture of a whine and a growl left Soap, as he helplessly pawed at the collar, “No breaking skin - already told you.”

“‘m sorry, sorry,” he promised, a pained tone to his voice, “dinnae mean tae.”

You doubted it was true; there was a darkness in the air despite the way your owner tried handling them.

He was let go off and the moment the prongs didn’t painfully dig into his skin, he was on you again, tongue on the indent he had left, his cock pressed into you again, his tail wagging.

“‘m sorry,” he barely managed to say in between his licks and moans, before his hands were back on you, his moaning louder, as he ignored your whines of slowing down. Your own hands grabbed onto his mohawk and ears, but the hybrid did nothing but moan even louder, moving his hips a little upwards and fuck - he hit the perfect spot, grinning like a feral hound when he noticed and heard your sounds.

You came against your will, crying out and spasming around him, his hands grabbing harder onto your thighs, claws teasing the skin.

He was panting and moaning like a hound, mounting you like there was nothing in his mind but the feeling of your cunt.

“Gonna fill ye up,” Soap promised, words barely escaping his mouth, drool dripping down on you; not like you cared, too gone yourself to really do so.

“DON'T knot her,” Price’s word cut through the air like a sharp knife, slicing into your mind; you wanted him to knot you, a part of you realized, no you needed him too - while another screamed in delight of not having to be stuck to him.

“Nnngh,” his hips were going so fast it almost hurt as they clashed against your skin, “please sir, please plea—“

“No.”

The hand that appeared made you shudder - and then a second later, Soap came, almost a guttural scream leaving him; you could feel Price’s fingers near your cock, stopping him from sliding his knot into you. 

“Later,” Price answered, then pulling Soap back by the collar and hair, your own hands slipping easily from him, “we don’t have the time to wait for all of you to knot her right now.”

The moment he was pulled away, you moved, whimpering and curling to the side, wincing as cum slid out from your pussy; it wasn’t John’s, you wanted it to be your owners. You barely had time to breathe before Nik released one of the others. Gaz pushed you onto your stomach - one hand on your neck to keep you down as you snarled.

“Wait,” you barked, ears tipping down “lemme breathe, for fucks sake—“

“Need you, puppy,” Gaz merely replied, grabbing onto your collar and tugging, his other hand pulling on your tail, ignoring your yelp, “gonna make it all okay again.”

“Nothing happened-“ you snarled, trying to make him let go, but you separately rose to your knees in order to levitate the pressure on your tail.

“Why did you smell like her then, huh?” He all but snarled, finally letting go of your collar, to push down his own pants, “stinking of her lust!”

You tried twisting to grip onto his ears to tug at them, hoping it would make him let go of you but he merely let go of you fully for a moment - your wrists were caught by his hands and he slammed them against the wooden floor.

“Be nice, собака,” Nik warned him, “I’m in no mood for broken bones.”

You barely heard him nor Gaz’ aggressive reply; you were too busy, having a realization. 

They were jealous ; you weren’t sure why it had taken you so fucking long to realize. The three mutts were jealous somebody else, somebody they didn’t know, had touched you and hadn’t you been so fucking upset, you might have laughed.

Instead, you felt a cock forcing its way into your cunt, making you howl in pleasure against your will; the slide was easier this time as Gaz fucked you, as you were already wet from the round with Soap - and now with his cum as well, Gaz fucked you almost smoothly. If not more aggressively than Soap had.

It didn’t take long before his teeth sank into your skin, the first two seconds it was nothing more than an extra grip, his cock roughly thrusting into you as if attempting to move your organs, his drool sliding along your skin, mixing with your sweat. His claws were digging into your skin slightly, but even more into the floor - while you were a mess, panting and attempting to growl in between your pathetic moans, barely able to see straight.

The pressure he bit you with changed quickly however and suddenly you were whining in pain, so loudly that you almost didn’t recognize your own voice.

Apparently Gaz had tried to bite Price in aggression over being ripped away from ‘his bitch’ as Nik called it, and you heard the harsh words and slaps, while you sank down a little, your tits pressed against the cold floor, your cunt empty. 

He was back as soon as he disappeared though, pulling you up again, only to almost instantly try to bite you again – halfway pulled away once more. You looked over your shoulder, seeing how the prong collar dug into his skin for a short moment until Price let go of him again.

The moment he was back, you turned however, using the moment to grab onto one of his long, dark ears and tug; it was almost a squeal that left Gaz and you heard both the hybrids bark and growl, Nik saying something – but it was the harsh spank from the leather leash that made you loosen your grip. 

“Behave, Princess,” John was squatting down next to you, strong hand on your pretty collar; it stood out so violently when compared to the others’ current prong collars, “or I’ll get you a collar too.”

“They’re mean!” you whimpered, giving him your best puppy eyes, before sending Gaz an angry look, as he was barely held back by John.

“Well you’re not quite playing nice either, eh?” There was a slight amusement in his voice but you didn’t get to comment on it, before he moved again.

Price gave Gaz more leash and the hybrid was instantly on you again, but this time Price didn’t let go of the metal ring in your own collar, keeping you in place, as if to remind you to behave; to remember he was right here, calling the shots.

“Yeah, Princess,” Gaz mocked, pushing into your cunt again with a moan, the movement in his hips exposing the fact that he was wagging his tail, “Behave.”

“Shut up!” you hissed angrily, a tug in the collar reminding you that Price was right there. 

Gaz’ hands were mostly on your hips - he nuzzled against your back and neck, licking your shoulders and in between your shoulder blades - he bit you a couple of times, but they were barely anything more than nips, a gentle tug on his collar reminding him to behave.

Then one of his hands moved, almost catching you off guard and making you whimper - it slid beneath your stomach, pawing at it for a moment, before it found its way to your cunt where the two of you were still connected, his thrusts still hard; he touched your clit without hesitation, snarling out words you could barely recognize. Mercilessly forcing you towards another orgasm.

Price let go of your collar and you let your head slumber down against the floor, wincing at the small pool of drool that had been created, hating how you pushed back against Gaz, the dual pleasure of his cock hitting that right spot and the fingers on your clit, so good you could barely breathe.

You barely heard Price’s command of not knotting you, from the mere tsunami of pleasure that overtook your body as you came, a howl that barely made any sound, snapping of your teeth and the pawing at the floor. You tightened around his cock, the knot having been so close, oh so close to being forced into your over oversensitive cunt - but then it was pulled out of you, almost making you sob.

Cum spurted on top of your lower back and ass cheeks, before Gaz willingly went - you could hear the almost instant sound of him and Soap making out with each other. And there was only one person back, which meant you had to go now.

A hand grabbed onto your ankle, dragging you backwards as you managed to crawl forwards a few steps - you turned around, back on the floor, raising your opposite leg to kick Ghost in the face, but the other hybrid caught it easily; grinning at you, almost feral-like, lust heavy in the air. Sometimes you forgot they had been in the military for so long.

Leather connected to your skin once more, this time on your raised thigh, a whine leaving you, your eyes flickering to look up at John who stood with the leash curled in his hand, ready to spank you with it once more.

“behave,” John hissed at you, while Ghost chuckled. Idiot.

You didn’t have much time to argue, Ghost letting go of your ankles, just to grab onto your thighs and pull you closer; he was kneeling, almost pulling you into his lap, that feral grin still there, fangs exposed.

He leant over you much quicker than you had anticipated, ignoring your growling and snapping with teeth - one hand resting next to your head, the other pulling down his boxers, pants already open.

Was his cock this big last time? It was like you couldn’t remember the last time right now, you could barely think, in fact, your mind was overwhelmed with so many things. Pleasure, oversensitivity, pain and anger - his dick seemed inhumanely long.

“Not so snappy now, huh?” he crooned, voice low, his free hand grabbing onto your plush thigh, fingers digging into the fat, ears tipped towards you as he spoke, “cockdumb already?”

“nnngh,” you tried pushing at his clothed chest, twisting in his grip, but it was no use; it was like the cock inside you kept you from doing anything. Somehow you managed a small “shutup” and that was enough to set Ghost going.

“Gonna teach you to not go whoring again,” Ghost snarled against your skin, tongue sloppily leaving a wet trail of spit over one of your bouncing tits, simply ignoring your hands trying to push his face out of the way, a plethora of moans and small yaps leaving you as he didn’t stop fucking you with that monster cock of his. You knew you were being watched, both by your owner and his boyfriend, as well as the two other hybrids, it only added to the humiliation of being turned on.

“Belong to us,” his words were barely audible as he growled them, the wet sounds and rustling of his clothes seeming to overtake it, “not her.”

“I won’t, won’t go, won–” you were barely aware of the words slipping from your lips, the volume rising as you felt his teeth scrape against a spot on your shoulder over your right breast, “nonon, please, I wont–”

“Ghost–” Price’s warning was stern, the little tug in the prong collar making him grumble, licking over the spot a couple of times - your eyes met. 

Ghost’s eyes almost seemed like they wanted to own you too; as if it was no longer John who you bowed to, but the pack that you didn’t want, on a farm you didn’t want to be. His thrusts quickened and then his eyelids lowered together with his head – biting down into your skin.

Despite his fast attempt at breaking your skin, mauling your flesh into his, Price was quicker – pulling him back by the collar. He held an extra grip on his hair and you managed to look up, see through the tears.

It was like there was a flood in your ears, Price looking mad, Ghost’s ears tipping backwards as he spoke.

Fighting to get some air into your lungs, you panted and tried wiggling free. Ghost’s fingers merely dug deeper into your plush thigh even though he was currently pulled back by the prong collar, the tips of his claws pressing against your skin as a warning.

The moment he let go, Ghost was back at it, staring down at you with a dark smile, grunts and small moans even leaving him. It took a couple of moments before Price let him have enough leash to bend down over you again and this time Ghost growled into your ears instead of your skin. Licking your furry ears while you whimpered at the feeling and the words.

They owned you; were going to breed you, use you, keep Valeria away, and do whatever they needed to keep you. You were theirs. The moment you let us, he had panted, we will love you.

There was an odd feeling in your stomach, almost as if you were going to piss yourself, but with no mercy from any of the men, one of your hands dug into his short hair and the other grabbed onto his shoulder as you screamed.

It had been a while since you squirted and it took you by surprise, just as it did the others. There were several barks, voices but then Ghost was fucking you even harder than before, bordering on painful, forcing his mouth against yours. You came a second time, this time not squirting but it almost felt more intense.

Ghost came just a moment later, perhaps caught by surprise himself, but he made sure not to knot you. 

The world was spinning around you. There were teardrops in your lashes as you squinted up at the hybrid, who was still pushed inside you. Price’s hand petting him shortly on the head before pulling him back.

There was speech but you barely noticed - then strong hands pulled you up into a lap. The overpowering scent of leather and oil told you who it was and despite your slight hate for Nik, your tail wagged as he pulled you into his arms, cooing at you.

“Such a strong puppy,” he praised, one of his hands drying away some of your drool, caressing your cheek as he sat on the floor with you on his lap, cum no doubt dripping onto his clothes, “you deserve treat for being so good, da?”

Compared to the first time you had met Nikolai, you didn’t want to bite his hand anymore - he clearly didn’t fear you doing so either. You snuggled into his hand, nodding as you squinted up at him, a  small “uh-huh” leaving you.

His hand disappeared and then there was a faint rustling of plastic - even without seeing it, you smelled it. It was that mouthwatering scent that made you weak in your knees that first time and your nose instantly sniffed, almost trying to sit up further to get a look of where it was - to get it before the boys did. Nikolai laughed, letting out a “there you go, milaya,” letting you grab the piece of jerky from his finger, instantly sinking your teeth into it with a pleased sigh. Your tail wagging a little again as you heard Soap whining over not getting a piece.

You even had to take a bath with them afterwards. Your life was officially over - you made sure to tell Price that, who just huffed and rolled his eyes. Sure, you weren’t the biggest fan of showers, but you wanted the cum off and you wanted a bath in the tub… alone. That was your thing.

“- ‘nd they’re gonna use up my shampoo and my conditioner -” you continued overdramatically as Nik carried you in front of John, the russian man merely snorting at your pitiful complaining. 

“We’ll buy more-” John tried to point out, but to no avail, life might as well be over for you right now.

“- ‘nd my brushes - all my nice brushes!”

“I will be sure tae use yers, Mo ghràdh,” Soap happily proclaimed, sending you a wink, fully naked as he was, his usual collar back on, small red marks on his neck from where the prongs had been, “I will use theim the wrong way. Just fer ye.”

Gaz snickered and even Ghost let out a chuckle.

“Jooohn,” you whined, only struggling a little as Nik sat you down in the tub, the water already nice and warm, your poor body having needed this, “I’m gonna need new brushes.”

“I doubt that, Princess,” he cooed, petting your hair, “Now who wants to join in th–”

Soap was in the tub, sliding in behind you before John could even finish his question, happily ignoring your pout and growl.

“Dinnae be like that,” he crooned, “where is yer special shampoo?”

This day had been awful.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“Princess.”

You almost jumped as the voice called for you and you turned, squinting slightly in suspicion at the sight. Gaz stood in the doorway, all calmly, looking at you, playing a little with his gloves. He didn’t look aggressive and didn’t smell turned on; in fact, he looked pretty harmless, his tail wagging ever so slightly, ears turning towards you and an almost shy smile.

“What?” you asked, sitting up in the dog bed, crossing your arms, not caring about sounding nice, looking him over for a moment before adding, “you’re dragging in mud.”

He looked down at his shoes, letting out a little ‘oh’. They weren’t really supposed to be in here, so you didn’t really understand why Gaz stood there. You didn’t really care either.

The other might be beautiful, but he was still not one of your favorite people. 

“I - want to show you something,” he finally said, one of his charming smile appearing, though it was a little more careful this time, “Soap said you would probably like it.”

“What is it?” You didn’t sound too impressed.

“It's a surprise,” he smiled a little more.

“If it's your knots, then you can–”

“Jeez,” he rolled his eyes, as if they weren’t fucking you silly on the livingroom floor the other day, “it’s not. Nothing like that.”

“Promise?”

“I do,” he answered, wagging a little more than before, “Swear on my tail.”

"Hm. Where is it?”

“In the barn.”

You scrunched your nose at the mention of the barn, the idea of being stamped to death by a horse already scaring you.

“It’s nothing scary - I wouldn’t bring you if it was.”

You let out a sigh, before getting up - he went to the hallway again and you followed, stealing one of John’s jackets as well as a pair of his boots, before following Gaz outside. 

“Some air would do you good once in a while, ya’ know,” Gaz said after a few moments, “we’re not that bad all of the time, Princess.”

You huffed, wondering for a moment if you should just turn around and go back. “You haven’t really proved me otherwise.”

He let out a hum that almost sounded agreeable but opened one of the doors to the barn, ushering you inside.

“It’s all good, I promise,” he said once more and you reminded yourself, that if he tricked you, you were going to snap off his tail. Pretty as it was.

He steered you to a booth where you noticed the heat lamp at first, more than anything else - but then you saw them, letting out a little gasp.

Tiny baby goats, all snuggled together in the hay beneath the lamp. A few of the mothers stood nearby and one of them came to the door of the booth, sniffing at Gaz’ hand, before letting out a bleat - then turning around again.

“They’re adorable,” you whispered, looking back at the babies, some of them looking at you, others sleeping with no worries in the world. 

“Aren’t they?” Gaz asked with a smile, “They were born yesterday night. Come.”

You let out a scared sound as Gaz opened the door to the booth.

“Won’t the mothers attack us?” you didn’t like how Gaz chuckled to your genuine, fearful question but he shook his head.

“Nah, me ‘nd the others hang out with the animals all the time.” He explained, petting one of the mothers who came to greet him for a moment.

It was cute. You had to admit that, even with your limited love of the farm animals.

“But I don’t.” you pointed out, still standing in the door of the booth, afraid to step into the hay and join the other as he sat down next to the baby goats.

“No, but the mothers know I won’t let a predator near,” he explained gently, “Not at daytime and not during the night.”

“Oh.”

There was something special over this that you could not explain. You didn’t want to explain it. You sat down next to Gaz as he patted the spot, still a little unsure about the momma goats - but none of them battered an eye as Gaz took your hand and made you gently pet one of the babies.

“They’re so tiny,” you whispered, almost to yourself, for once not hating or fearing Gaz. At least for right now, you were just in a moment together with him, doing something that you hadn’t expected would be that nice.

[nonsensenook]

Chapter 4 | Lingering Scars, Heavy Sighs

Synopsis: You and Bajie leave The Hollow heavy with separate burdens which you both chose to drown out with alcohol. A continuation of this unapologetic take on you, the reader, accompanying the Destined One on his journey. 

Word Count: 5,035

Warnings: Sadness, Violence (Brief Mentions) 

Author’s Note: A bit heavier of a tone than previous chapters, at least in the beginning. Is it just me or are these chapters getting longer? I thank you very much for your patience, kind words, and I hope you enjoy! 

Requested Tags: @joyfulllittlething, @servamp01, @suntizme

Ch. 1 - Ch. 2 - Ch. 3 - Ch. 3.5 (Optional) - Cont.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arriving at the Webbed Hollow had you go against a rule you’ve enacted on yourself since you came to this world: try to change the course of the story. You had time to think through your plans again before you and your group arrived at the Village of Lanxi. While smuggled in the chest carried by two pig Yaoguais you were silently deep in thought as Bajie rolled his eyes at the petty gossip the two were exchanging. You could tell he was getting impatient from how often he peeked out from the chest. In your lap was the Destined One in his bird form, cradled in your arms. You absentmindedly pet him as the village came closer. 

You had a chance to alter the course of the future. Maybe some lives can be spared and some stories re-written. After all, your presence is proof enough that things can be skewed off course, at least a little. But no matter how you went about it you couldn’t see a future where things went the way you wanted them to. You couldn’t shake the dreadful feeling that your actions would be in vain. At the same time, you wouldn’t forgive yourself if you didn’t try. 

You had warned Bajie of the dangers that came from trying to trick the ladies of the house. You were careful not to teeter too close to the edge when warning Bajie, cautious of him questioning the knowledge you held and if he were to begin asking questions you couldn’t answer. In the end, you couldn’t give an explanation that justified not going through with Bajie’s plan, at least not one good enough to satisfy him. They needed to infiltrate the Hollow, even if they were seen through. And so, the Weavers Needle landed its mark. You swallowed the bitter taste of failure and carried onward. 

The Hollowed Web was the most perilous of all lands you’ve traveled to so far. Knowing this beforehand didn't change that fact. You were hesitant to jump into it with the Destined One, but there were no other ways for you to continue forward without him. You were grateful that the kindness of the Fourth Sister extended to you as well. She had safely taken you both into the Hollow. 

The Fourth Sister was another one whose outcome you tried to rewrite. Knowing her fate if the Destined One were to continue tearing the talisman made you consider deeply whether or not you should advise him not to do so. You ultimately chose to stay your hand as your companion tore each talisman. You hoped your choice was the right one; that a chance of a future outside of this Hollow was one she’d take even if it meant becoming a captive of the Celestial Court. You wanted to believe in that chance and couldn't make yourself take it away. 

You spent much of the time in The Hollow clinging to the Destined Ones back or having him catch you as you traversed from platform to platform. Your guard and stress were at an all time high as you thought of every possibility while Yaoguais ambushed you from above and below. Nothing was changing. Even when you warned Bajie or the Fourth Sister, everything was falling into place as they should. As the Destined One kept you both alive you worked to think of a way, any way to make just one change. You felt yourself sink further into despair as every moment played out as it had before. Your unprecedented presence had made no difference. 

~

You were silent as The Hollow was left behind. Bajie was the same, both of you were deep in thought, matching the usual energy which The Destined One carried with him. Your gaze was unfocused, your mind elsewhere. Many times you were stopped by the Young Sage from walking into a tree or off a dangerous ledge. His arm would wrap around your waist protectively or his hand would be placed on your shoulder to redirect you. You would apologize to him before sinking back into your stupor. 

Bajie was the same, if not worse. It would take several attempts to get his attention and once he acknowledged you with a grunt his mind would go back to where it was the very next moment. When a hostile Yaoguai appeared on your path, Bajie didn’t even glance at it until he was flung back from an attack. This made him turn into his boar form, crushing the Yaoguai against a tree. When he returned to his usual self, he made no acknowledgement of what happened. He simply kept walking. 

You couldn’t stop wondering how you could have acted differently, how you could’ve guided them from this preordained path. If you have been more clever - if you have figured out a way, then Bajie wouldn’t be mourning. The Fourth Sister wouldn’t have been captured. Five daughters wouldn’t be digging a grave. You clutched at your arm, nails digging into your skin. What use was your knowledge if you could do nothing with it? What use were you to any of them? Your hands ran through your hair as the same question was brought forth. For what reason were you here? 

At some point a fire was started and a blanket draped gently around you. You shook out of your state briefly to look up and see the Destined One stirring something in a pot over the fire. You hadn’t noticed the sun had begun to set. You weren’t even sure when you had even sat down. You looked around and found that Bajie was nowhere to be seen. Looking at the inventory the Destined One laid out you noted some items were missing: several jars of brew and a few pieces of food. You gave a strong guess or two as to what happened to them and Bajie. 

The Destined One produced a bowl and spoon, ladling out hot broth. You watched him walk to you, crouching down to hand you the bowl. You accepted it, but made no movement to begin eating. The Destined One plopped down beside you. You could sense he was troubled as he took the bowl back from you. He stirred the broth once, then filled the spoon half-way before holding it beside your lips. You gazed up at him. 

“I’m sorry for worrying you,” you said. In response the Young Sage bumped his head against yours as his tail wrapped around you. His arm pulled you closer to him as your vision began to blur. “I’m sorry…” you repeated quietly. The Destined One held you knowing that your last apology wasn’t for him. 

His brow was slightly furrowed, mouth tilted in a small worried frown, and his eyes were urging you to please eat. You felt your heart ache. Guilt washed over you as you looked at his expression. You turned back to the food, leaning forward to sip at the broth. You quietly continued to let him feed you. When you asked if he’d prepared any for himself he interrupted your question by spooning you more broth. You swallowed quickly then put your hand up as a barrier.

“I’m not going to eat anymore if you aren’t going to eat at all,” you said. The Destined One stared at you for a beat then took the bowl to his lips. You felt yourself smile a little watching his tail lash behind him. You then obediently ate the rest of the soup. You had him finish off the last spoonful himself then leaned into his shoulder. 

~

You found Bajie at the edge of a nearby lake with a jar of brew in hand. Several jars were already emptied and tossed aside. You sat down beside him as he finished another and added it onto the growing pile. He wiped his mouth, eyes trained on the still lake. 

“What do you want?” Bajie asked bluntly, tearing another bottle open. 

“A drink,” you answered, grabbing a bottle of your own. 

You felt Bajie’s gaze shift to you as you tore the brew open and tilted it back, taking in large gulps of alcohol. You almost slammed the bottle down as you let out a heavy sigh. 

“You don’t drink,” Bajie said incredulously.

“Since when?” You responded, glancing sideways at him. 

Bajie seemed to think for a moment then held out his jar towards you. In return you held out your own drink, tapping it against his. With that small toast you both took a swig from your drinks and sat in silence staring out onto the lake. The last colors of twilight were fading. As the full moon began to rise you watched as fireflies slowly blinked awake. 

You didn’t know what to say to Bajie. No apologies would come without explanations you couldn’t give. Bajie was the same, bound by a similar rule that had you both brood in silence. You thought of the little girl; the youngest of the Spider Sisters. You remembered the expression on her face as she watched Bajie walk away. Again and again everything brought you back into the same loop, the same feeling of helplessness. You felt you wanted to throw something to hear it shatter and break apart. Instead you took a big swig in a pathetic attempt to drown and shut those thoughts out. 

The night continued like this until the moon shone its reflection onto the center of the lake. You and Bajie continued to drink, neither of you stepping from your own worlds. The alcohol was coursing through you. You felt buzzed as the ground swayed ever so slightly. Your mind felt like it had been soaked, half-heartedly rinsed, then left out to dry as the brew washed over your senses. Out of the corner of your vision you saw Bajie turn from the lake and sigh heavily as he closed his eyes. 

“Do you regret it?” the question left you before your mind fully comprehended it. Yet, you didn’t feel any panic once you did. You just wanted to hear the answer. You watched the subtle ripples of the reflected moon as Bajie kept his eyes closed. You thought he hadn’t heard you. A small part of you was grateful, ready to rebuild the broken silence. Then Bajie opened his eyes. 

“A better question is,” Bajie said, picking up a rock and turning it in his hand, “would I do it all again?” 

You stared at the lake, watching the fireflies lazily dancing on its surface. 

“Would you?” you asked. 

“Would you?” he asked right back. 

Your hand went to the scar on your arm. Flashes of memories flipped through your mind. From the moment you fell into this world to now. You thought of all those times your life was in peril, the struggle it took for you to adapt, the fear, the ache of home, the helplessness, and this evolved deep rooted guilt. You felt your hand clutch at your drink harder as your arms held yourself together. Then the Destined One appeared in your mind. You thought of his eyes, his smile, his little mannerisms, his gentle hands, the moments you two shared, his warmth, his fury, his joy, his pain. Him. You thought of Bajie. The stories he’d tell you as you rested. The times he’d fight alongside the Young Sage. The way he cared for you beneath that layer of gruffness. How he’s sitting beside you now, sharing a moment to drink with you.  

“Yes…” you said. 

“Then you have your answer,” replied Bajie. 

Even if this journey ends in pain and tragedy you already knew. If given the choice, you’d choose to do it all again. Bajie makes a sound between a grunt and a hum. He turned the rock once more then tossed it into the lake where it skipped twice disturbing and dispelling the image of the moon. You watched the ripples smooth itself out, sipping from your drink. 

Bajie spoke up, “Your turn,” he said. 

“Hm?” you picked at the grass, becoming more aware of how warm your body had become from the drink. 

“I’m owed a story,” said Bajie. 

You laughed then emptied the last sips of your bottle before wiping your mouth. Your hand went to grab another, humming as you undid the seal on the brew. 

“Have I ever told you about the time I was captured by bandits?” 

Bajie choked on his drink, “Those idiots thought you-” Bajie burst into laughter, hitting the ground as he did so. You could only make out some snippets of what he was saying in-between his cackling. 

“No, but I am not surprised. You attract unwanted dangers like our Master had. Might as well wear a sign reading Free Morsel.”

“Funnily enough, they thought I was your master,” you said, ignoring his quip. 

“They thought-you! A pious monk! Oh yes, I see you are just brimming with virtuosity.” 

You rolled your eyes as Bajie’s laughter settled down to a controllable chuckle. 

“I couldn’t have been this cheeky when I first asked you for a story,” you grumbled. 

“Oh no, you were much worse,” countered Bajie. 

“Can I tell my story now?” 

Bajie tilted his drink to you, “Floor’s all yours, kid.” 

Bajie listened as you recounted the event of your capture. You skimped a bit on the details regarding the argument you and the Destined One were going through. He mumbled about how you were “Just like Master” when you shared how you were caught unawares to be consumed. He seemed to enjoy your description of the rats and their little tussle. He snickered when you told him the lie you had fed them. 

“They really believed that?” 

“I’m still telling the story, Bajie.” 

Bajie seemed gripped as you told him about the rising tensions the group had when they argued on what to do with you. Then came the moment the rat leader opened his mouth to take a bite of you. You built on that suspense up to when the Destined One dramatically appeared to save you which had Bajie grunt. 

“What a surprise,” Bajie said sarcastically. 

You must’ve been a bit too descriptive in how you described the Destined One as he battled the rats because Bajie interrupted you by saying, “Yes, yes the dashing little monkey prince came and rescued you. What happened afterwards?” 

You paused. “Afterwards?” you repeated. You blinked as the events of ‘afterwards’ replayed in your mind. You were grateful your cheeks were already flushed from the alcohol. You cleared your throat, absentmindedly swirling your drink around and feeling there was a little over half of it left. You avoided looking at Bajie. 

“Nothing much, we just continued the journey as usual,” you said casually. 

“Huh, figured the kid wasn’t one to take advantage of the situation.” Bajie commented. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, such a romantic rescue usually ends with a kiss at the very least.” 

You froze. You couldn’t tell if the way Bajie was leaning forward out of the corner of your eye meant he was knowingly teasing you or you were just imagining it. Bajie continued, “So nothing hap-” 

You threw your drink back, gulping it all down loudly as some of it spilled from the corners of your mouth. 

“Woah, slow down, kid. You’ll drown yourself drinking that much all at once,” Bajie warned.

You didn’t listen. Tossing your empty drink aside, you grabbed and ripped into another, giving Bajie a brazen smile. 

“Scared I’ll out drink you, old man?” 

Bajie seemed taken aback for a moment then flashed you a grin. He emptied his drink down his gullet, mirroring you in grabbing another. 

“Big words from such an impudent human. You’ll be regretting that tonight,” Bajie said. 

“Such a powerful Yaoguai like yourself s’got more to lose,” you replied spilling a little of your drink as you offered him a toast, “And only tonight, Bajie? No, you’ll be the one regretting this come morning.” 

Bajie snorted, almost crashing his drink against yours. 

“We’ll see about that.” 

~

You couldn’t stop laughing. The ground was constantly moving. The world seemed to take a moment to catch up every time your gaze shifted. Your words were slurring, tumbling over each other. You and Bajie were constantly switching between tearful laughter and heated arguments. All of which were nonsensical. The arguments escalated into petty bets. Who can chug the fastest without pause? Who can throw the most accurately? Who can stack the taller brew tower? Though you won your fair share Bajie was quite ahead in wins which made you challenge him again and again. More and more silly bets came and went. You’d just beaten him in a very fair and not at all skewed agility test when Bajie spoke up, almost tripping over an empty jar. 

“Alright, I know one-one thing. I can summon that kid without speaking a single word.” 

You tilted your head in thought, your drink tilted with you spilling a bit on the ground. You didn’t pay that much mind as you squinted at Bajie. 

“And no using your powers?” you questioned. 

“Not one,” assured Bajie. 

Bajie stumbled over to you and waved you closer like he’s about to share a secret. Without much or really any thought you leaned down. Bajie reached his hand out and flicked you hard on the head. You yelped, clutching your head as you fell to the ground. You went back and forth cursing at Bajie and groaning out “Why.” The answer came when two familiar hands pried yours from your face. The Destined One had been successfully summoned. The Destined One turned your head to examine it. Joy at seeing him sparked back into irritation towards Bajie as you heard him cackling on the ground. Bajie pointed to you, “Take that one back to camp before they drink all my alcohol.” 

“Don’t listen to him, he’s drunk,” you huffed. 

“You’re drunk!” Bajie retorted. 

The Young Sage made to take you into his arms, an offer you’d never thought you’d turn down. In your drunken stupor indignation and stubbornness flared, catching ablaze on the alcohol coursing through you.

“Now it’s fair,” you threw an arm around the Destined One and pointed at Bajie, “As a team we’re taking you down, old man.” 

Bajie guffawed, “You think adding the kid is enough to match the Zhu Bajie?” 

“If you’re too scared now that my monkey prince is here, then go ahead and cut me off,” you challenged. Bajie’s ear twitched. He walked up to the Destined One and shoved a drink into his hand. The Young Sage looked at the drink then at Bajie. 

“Your pre-requisite,” Bajie said slyly. 

The Destined One looked at you still hanging onto his shoulders. You were grinning stupidly back at him, giving him a thumbs up for encouragement. The Young Sage downed the drink in one breath. You watched mesmerized as the drink spilled from his lips and trickled down his throat. You felt something smack you on the shoulder. Tearing away from the Destined One you looked at the ground where a pebble was rolling to a stop. You frowned at Bajie. 

“Quit your gawking, I can see you drooling from here,” said the Pig Guai.

The Destined One threw the empty jar aside looking roguishly, sinfully, and devastatingly handsome as he wiped his mouth with his wrist. You grinned at Bajie who responded with a chuckle, “You’ve got some catch-up to do, Nephew. I’ve got ‘em beat eight to one.” 

“You lying piece of-” 

The games began. 

An outlooker could describe the scene and sound like they’re about to tell a joke. A monkey, a pig, and a human were drunkenly running around near a lake scattering the nearby fireflies and small wildlife. Every so often the human would be yelling at the pig as he shoved more drinks into the monkey’s hand. The monkey remained unphased by the amount of alcohol he consumed and was the only one not swaying on their feet. At some point, someone's mother was being insulted. 

Bajie’s challenges were becoming more ruthless. The beginning was a simple game of rock skipping. Bajie had made an impressive six skips while your own rock sank to the bottom of the lake immediately. The Destined One had picked up a rock without much thought and flicked it across the lake's surface. The rock skipped across the lake, going well beyond six and continuing into the distance. You jumped onto his back with a fist in the air. Bajie was quick to prepare for the next game. 

The Destined One dominated them all. No matter the amount of drinks that Bajie handed him he didn’t seem even the slightest bit buzzed. You saw that he wore a subtle grin;  his tail swayed to and fro as Bajie challenged him again and again. He was fully enjoying himself. You didn’t mind at all that he was carrying you in almost every challenge being much too busy laughing and stumbling around as you cheered him on. Eventually, Bajie threw up his hands. 

“Alright! Final challenge,” Bajie swayed heavily pointing back and forth between the two of you. You were being carried on the Destined Ones shoulders as you switched between drinking and having him drink from the same jar. Bajie had just lost to a simple game of rock paper scissors in which you were the victor. The Destined One had held you up as you laughed victoriously. 

Bajie’s words were heavily slurred as he went back and forth between the line of drunken delight and vexation. Bajie patted around his body then produced a small jade pendant which he almost dropped. Bajie held it up for you and the Young Sage to see. 

“A simple game,” Bajie hiccuped, “of keep away.” 

You watched as Bajie took a few steps back, making some distance between you and the Destined One. Bajie walked into the lake till the water reached his waist. You patted the Destined One gently on his head. He set you down from his shoulders. You knew this one was truly for everything. 

“Five minutes should be enough for you two numskulls,” Bajie said, “Come at me, the both of you!” Bajie tossed the pendant up. You followed its trajectory as it ascended, readying yourself to dash towards it. Beside you, the Destined One did the same. In slow motion, your eyes followed the pendant as it descended. In the next moment, you watched as a catfish met it halfway and swallowed it. The very same catfish fell back into the lake with a small plop, disappearing below the surface. You stood there, staring as the ripples of the lake smoothed out again. It took you too long to comprehend what just happened. For a moment, you and the Destined One stared at the silent, unmoving lake. In the next, you were wading through the water calling Bajie a list of colorful names and terms which this world had yet to hear. 

You addressed the Young Sage. “Any fish-like transformation in your arsenal?” you asked, already knowing the answer. The Destined One shook his head. You kicked at the water in vain. As sudden as it came, you felt your anger douse itself out. That little cheater. You couldn’t say you wouldn’t have done the same if you were in Bajie’s shoes. Or would it be hooves? 

You laid back onto the water, mindlessly floating about. You let yourself swear at Bajie one more time with a smile as you swore revenge. Fireflies flew in and out of your sight. The moon was outdoing itself tonight as it shined brightly in a sea full of twinkling stars. A familiar face appeared in your vision. The Destined One looked down at you as your head bumped against his leg. 

“I’d ask you to join me, but I’m not too sure if you float,” you said. He seemed happy enough to simply watch you.

After five minutes, Bajie appeared bursting from the lake shaking off excess water onto you and the Destined One. You stood up to glare at him and give him a splash back. He tsked at you. 

“Hey now, it’s a bad look to be so sore after losing,” Bajie chided. You flicked water at him defiantly. Bajie ignored the little water droplets you pelted at him. 

“As winner,” he continued, ignoring your jeering, “I declare you both cut off from drinking anymore of my alcohol and you shall call me King Bajie the Unparalleled from now on.” 

“We’re not doing that,” you said then sneezed into your elbow. Your drenched clothes clung to your body as the Destined One scooped you up into his arms, ignoring how his own clothes were getting soaked. 

“Yes, take that insolent human away, Nephew.” said Bajie in a haughty tone, waving you both off. 

You opened your mouth to reply, but ended up sneezing again. The Destined One turned away quickly, wading out of the lake to get you onto dry land. You turned to Bajie, ready to counter him with an insult. Your tongue stilled as you looked at him. Where Bajie was just standing, a young man now stood watching you both leave with a forlorn smile on his face. He was tall, handsome, with an almost exalted air surrounding him. As the fireflies blinked in and out around him, he turned away from you, his long dark hair shrouding his face. You didn’t dare blink, not even when the trees and foliage began obscuring your vision. You watched as the young man looked up at the moon, turning that little jade pendant in his hand.

~

You were snuggled in the Young Sage’s arms as he carried you back to camp. A blanket of drowsiness wrapped itself around you. Cut off and kicked out, you finally felt the exhaustion of the day catch up to you. Looking up through half-lidded eyes, your hands went to trace the Destined One’s face. Dreamily, you brushed through his fur. 

“It’s so soft,” you said as you scratched the back of his head. He leaned into your hand then tilted his head this way and that to make sure you get every good spot. 

You laughed, “You are adorable.” 

The Destined One blinked. That was a newer compliment. You knew it was one you typically kept to yourself, but you didn’t care. Your inhibitions had been washed away, perhaps abandoned at the edge of the lake a drink or two ago. In this moonlight, underneath the sky dusted full of stars the Destined One looked much too- “Handsome,” you said out loud. The Young Sage seemed surprised, but fully embraced your sudden praise with a smile. You kept them coming, his subtle joy at your words pushing you on until you were babbling. You talked about how fun tonight was, you wondered if he’d ever gotten drunk, then you would double back to complimenting him again. His eyes, his smile, his hands, that tail of his, everything about him you flooded with shameless praise. The Young Sage looked close to laughing. 

You couldn’t make out the details of anything. The world was an unfocused blur on an unfinished painting. The only thing clear to you was him. You smiled wistfully, looking into his eyes. 

“You know, before I came here I-” a sudden wave of nausea hit you. You covered your mouth as you felt yourself salivate. The Destined One quickly put you down where you braced yourself against a tree and emptied your stomach. The Destined One steadied you with a hand on your back. You felt sick and dizzy, no longer able to open your eyes without the world spinning out of control. The next instances came in snapshots: being cleaned up, changed, asking for water, groaning, more vomiting, more water. You fell asleep curled up next to the Young Sage, clutching at his robes while he combed his hands gently through your hair. 

~

The next morning, you woke up feeling dehydrated with a throbbing headache. You squinted in the light of the sun, catching your pig guai companion fairing the same across the way. Both of you groaned as the consequences of your actions produced an unforgiving hangover. 

The Young Sage was just fine, you could make out his fuzzy shape warming up in the distance with his staff. He’d left a little kettle beside the embers of a dying fire already heated and ready. You forced yourself up and poured a cup of hot tea with shaky hands. Bajie stayed where he was, but continued his lament of groans as he tried to cover his eyes from the sunlight. He hadn't made it to his bedding last night which sat unused only half a foot away from him. You placed the steaming cup near Bajie, his ear twitched as it followed your movements. You poured yourself another cup and took a sip, shivering as the hot liquid coursed through you. 

Bajie slowly sat up, taking the drink you’d given him. He took a sip and shivered as he closed his eyes. 

“Thanks, kid,” Bajie said. 

You gave him a small hum in response. Birds were greeting you with their chorus as a warm breeze blew through your hair. The Destined One returned, sitting beside you and handing you breakfast already prepared. You looked at him as you held your pulsing head. Your memories after leaving Bajie were hazy and jumbled, as if someone wiped at the pages of your mind while the ink was still drying.

“Did I say anything weird last night?” you asked. 

The Destined One tilted his head in thought. He gave you a small, almost indiscernible, mischievous smile and shook his head. You probed him more as that tail of his flicked back and forth. The Young Sage took your cup and sipped at it, remaining unmoved as you pestered him on what you could’ve possibly said. Bajie, with eyes still closed, spoke up, “Silence,” he said, “The Unparalleled King Bajie commands it.” 

A passerby could describe the scene that happened afterwards and sound like they’re about to tell a joke.

[caffeinatedvigilantewriter]

TRIGGER WARNING SELF HARM.

IF THAT TRIGGERS YOU PLEASE I BEG OF YOU TO SCROLL.

YOU ARE WORTH MUCH MORE THAN MY RAMBLINGS

Stay Safe!!

So the GIWs actions has escalated, by a lot. So team Phantom spilts into groups and hides.

Danny 20 and Tucker 20 are in central city as collage roommates.

Jazz 22 and Dan 24 are lying low as a brother-sister duo in Star City

Sam 20 and Valerie 20 are in Metropolis running a plant shop.

And Dani 19 is in Gotham, hiding in an apartment. She didn’t go with anyone else became her sick core is unintentionally eating their ectoplasm making them sick as well

Out of everyone, Dani is struggling the most. She’s at risk of destabilizing (which is why she moved to Gotham, it has natural ecto) and can’t fulfill her obsession, adventure.

She becomes sickly. Her official cover is heart issues (that could kill her at any moment, so no one questions if she disappears off the face do the earth, they’ll think she died)

She works at a local daycare/elementary school. She moves into an apartment in the heart of Gotham. 5th floor, number 511. The entire floor is pretty empty, sans for the green eyed boy next door.

Dani can’t fulfill either of her obsessions, (secondary one being protection, dam you Danny) can’t talk to her family, and is slowly beginning to destabilize painfully. She’s also running out of ecto-dejecto, and is going through heavy withdrawals. And on top of that, she catches the attention of Erebus- the chivalrous vigilante that might know too much. Dani falls into a depression. She starts self harming. And spirals further.

…Maybe the boy in apartment 512 can help?

~

Damian’s been living on his own for a couple months now, made his own vigilante person (Erebus) and had just gotten a new neighbor, a sickly blue eyed girl his age.

Danielle Jane Nightingale is an incredible individual. She can speak at least 17 languages, works at a daycare, and takes care of her self even while suffering from a deadly heart condition. One tat worsens when she’s under high stress.

She’s also hiding something.

Damian begins to investigate as Erebus, first crashing into her apartment window (that part wasn’t intentional, he was simply planning to interrogate her). And catches her self harming herself.

He ends up stealing all her blades. And visiting every other day. Just to watch her of course, make sure she doesn’t hurt herself further.

They slowly get closer, all while Dani is crushing on her next door neighbor.

Meanwhile, Duke Thomas hasn’t heard from his cousin in a while. Tucker Foley might not be an immediate cousin, but he usually texted every couple days.

Unfortunately, when Duke searched Amity Park, nothing came up. Even worse, Tucker didn’t exist.

Duke started investigating.

Suddenly Dani disappears, and Damian starts investigating. His searches lead to Amity Park, and Duke takes notice. They both team up to find out why an entire town vanished

In the Ghost Zone, High King Danny is preparing to go to war.

[kingstarkingslay]

It was well past midnight when Sirius and Remus found themselves tangled in the sheets, the faint glow of the moon creeping through the open window. The gentle hum of the night outside, the occasional hoot of an owl, and the rustle of leaves in the breeze filled the silence of the room.

Sirius, with his dark hair a mess from tossing and turning, was sprawled across the bed with Remus’ head resting on his chest. Remus, still wearing the remnants of his school robes, absentmindedly traced patterns on Sirius' chest, his heartbeat steady and warm beneath his touch.

"Y'know," Sirius murmured, voice half-drowsy but laced with mischief, "I could have been a great actor."

Remus snorted softly, not bothering to open his eyes. "Oh? Really? And what would your best role have been?"

"Obviously, I'd be the brooding, misunderstood hero," Sirius said dramatically, shifting his position so he could look down at Remus with an exaggerated pout. "You know, the one who gazes longingly out of windows and pines for lost love."

"You mean the one who spends most of his time getting into trouble and getting kicked out of classes?" Remus raised an eyebrow, unable to hold back a smile.

Sirius shot him a playful glare, reaching up to flick a lock of Remus' hair out of his face. "That was part of the charm, Moony. Gotta keep things interesting, y'know?"

"Right, right," Remus hummed, as Sirius ran a hand through his messy hair. "And if you were an actor, would I be your love interest?"

"Obviously," Sirius said with a dramatic sigh, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You’d be the shy, intellectual type who doesn't realize how charming he is until the very end of the movie. You know, the one who wears glasses and reads a lot."

Remus’ grin widened as he tilted his head, trying to keep a straight face. "Are you saying I'm charming? Or are you just projecting your own fantasies?"

Sirius chuckled, the sound rich and warm in the stillness of the room. He shifted closer, pressing Remus against his chest, and placed a soft kiss on his skin. "Oh, I think you’re incredibly charming. You just need someone to bring it out of you. Someone... like me."

Remus’ heart fluttered at the simple, affectionate words. It was almost unfair how easily Sirius could make him feel like the most important person in the world with just a glance, a touch, or one of his teasing remarks.

"Alright," Remus said after a long pause, his voice quiet and thoughtful, "so, what happens at the end of the movie?"

Sirius tilted his head back slightly, looking down at Remus with those signature eyes that always made Remus’ stomach flip. "Well, at the end, I kiss you, of course."

"Oh, naturally," Remus said, trying to sound casual but failing miserably. He could feel his cheeks warming. "And then what?"

Sirius smirked, his hand sliding up Remus’ arm to rest over his heart. "Then we live happily ever after. But with a few more snogging scenes, obviously."

"I’m glad you're thinking about the important details," Remus replied, his lips twitching into a smile.

Sirius' grin widened, and without another word, he leaned down and kissed Remus softly, just a brief press of lips that felt like it could last for an eternity. When he pulled back, he didn't go far, his forehead resting against Remus' as they both closed their eyes, basking in the simple closeness of the moment.

"Just so you know," Sirius whispered after a long pause, his voice gentle, "I wouldn't mind living the movie with you. Maybe minus the brooding and the pining... just the snogging."

Remus chuckled softly, his hand drifting to Sirius’ face, pulling him even closer. "I think I can live with that."

Sirius broke the silence again, his voice low and teasing. "So, Moony, if we were in a real movie... do you think we’d be the type that gets a happy ending?"

Remus chuckled, a fond smile tugging at his lips. "Well, considering we’re already here... I think we’ve got that part sorted."

Sirius' grin was wide and goofy as Remus nuzzled into his neck. "Good. Because I’m not letting you go, even if the movie’s over."

Remus chuckled and pulled him in tighter. "I’m not going anywhere either, Pads. Not ever."

[neve-rook-datv]

The Trouble Within - Neve Gallus’ Personal Notes - Part 3

The Lighthouse has become our sanctuary, a place where we regroup, share stories, and patch up wounds—both physical and unseen. Its walls seem to shift and breathe, adapting to the lives and emotions we bring to it, and at the center of it all, there’s Rook.

Here, within these ever-changing walls, I witness Rook’s patience in subtle ways that others might glimpse, though maybe not in the same way I do. She has a way of listening that makes each of us feel seen, as though she’s anchored in every word, no matter how tense or chaotic the room might be. When someone voices a frustration, she doesn’t push back; she responds with a calm steadiness, sometimes even with a quiet joke or a mischievous smile that has a way of breaking through the tension. Her humor, subtle and warm, draws people to her. And she leads us, not by pushing or pulling, but by embodying a quiet confidence that feels both fragile and unbreakable.

Yet beneath that easy-going surface lies a core of steel—a resolve that drives her forward, even when the path is uncertain. She makes choices with a clarity I find both reassuring and disconcerting. She’ll take risks others wouldn’t dream of, yet somehow, her decisions feel like the only logical path, as though she sees a future we don’t. I’ve seen her face down choices that would make others falter, and each time, she makes us trust her judgment, makes us believe that whatever she decides is the only way forward.

And then there’s Assan, Darvin’s griffon, who seems to have developed a fondness for her. Assan isn’t hers to claim, and yet Rook treats him with a gentle care that still catches me off guard. She slips away when she can, spending quiet moments by his side, scratching behind his ears, whispering to him in that low voice that’s soft enough to make even the griffon still. I see a different side of her in those moments, something raw and unguarded, and it’s almost too intimate to watch. And somehow, it only deepens this image I have of her—a leader with a heart she guards fiercely, yet can’t help but reveal in these stolen moments.

Watching her, I feel a weight settle within me, something I can no longer ignore, no matter how much I wish I could. Every time we leave this place, we face threats that could tear any of us from this fragile unity we’ve built. I tell myself it’s safer to keep my distance, to guard my heart from the possibility of loss. But then I see her, standing at the center of us all, carrying burdens that aren’t hers to bear, giving everything she has, even when no one asks her to.

It scares me, this pull I feel toward her, this desire to step closer when every part of me knows how easily it could all be shattered. She’s Trouble, I remind myself, but the word feels hollow now—a flimsy defense against something deeper. The Trouble is what she awakens in me—the hope, the vulnerability, the longing for something I know I can’t guarantee.

And there’s a gnawing fear beneath it all. I find myself caught in this quiet struggle, wanting to reach for her, to let myself fall into this connection that grows stronger with each passing day. But every time I feel that pull, that instinct to move closer, a darker thought settles within me—a reminder that we live on borrowed time, that every mission we embark on could be our last, and that, one day, I might lose her. It’s an ache that refuses to fade, and it only grows stronger the more I let myself believe there could be something beyond these walls.

I’m afraid of what it means to want this, to want her, knowing full well the risks we face. And yet… I see it in her eyes too, that same pull neither of us can seem to resist.

[shizuturnspages]

Hii Love your yan works!! Wondering if I could request a scenario where darling(gender neutral would be great<3) , utterly frustrated, just snaps. Angry, maybe a bit violent (telling the yan/char off too) and their reactions to this. the sumeru boys if you could :) (sethos included ofc) tysm!!

(alsoo can I be 🐲anon :D, if u don't have like an anon system it's finee)

Ofccc

I tried my best to portray a frustrated darling. Here it is:

Alhaitham

Alhaitham is never caught off guard—until now. He’s always so sure of his logic, so convinced that his calm reasoning will sway you. And yet, here you are, snapping like a live wire, anger blazing as you tell him off for treating you like some part of a research project he’s working on.

“I am not one of your little experiments, Alhaitham!” You slam your hands on the desk, making every paper, every precious note he keeps meticulously organized, scatter.

Alhaitham’s reaction? He raises an eyebrow, that usual collected look faltering for a second. “Your outburst is…unexpected,” he says slowly, like he’s still processing this glorious rage you’re unleashing on him.

But you’re not backing down. “You think you know everything about me, huh? As if watching me like some science project gives you the right to dictate my life! Well, newsflash, it doesn’t.”

He just blinks at you, taking in the harsh words. And—damn it—he seems intrigued. Almost like he’s analysing you, savouring every bit of this rare outburst. When you’re done, breathing heavily, he gives a soft chuckle, leaning closer. “If I didn’t care about you,” he murmurs, eyes gleaming with something dark, “I wouldn’t bother trying to understand you so thoroughly. But, please, go on… I’m listening.”

The soft, gentle way Tighnari usually approaches everything takes a sharp turn when you finally reach your boiling point. He’s been hovering again, watching you like a hawk, questioning your every move, worrying over every detail. You’ve had enough.

Tighnari

“Stop! Just stop!” you shout, pacing in frustration as you wave your arms in the air. “I don’t need your constant surveillance, Tighnari! I’m not some fragile thing you have to keep an eye on every second!”

Tighnari blinks in surprise, his typically calm expression faltering. He doesn’t know how to respond at first, clearly caught off guard by your sudden outburst. “I… I was only trying to help. You’ve been acting strange lately, and I—”

“Strange?” you cut him off, glaring at him. “I’m not strange, I’m frustrated! You make me feel like I’m one step away from breaking at any given moment, always hovering, always watching. I’m fine, Tighnari! Stop treating me like I’m about to fall apart!”

His ears twitch as he processes your words, the warmth in his eyes turning into something more intense. His lips part, and for a moment, he looks like he’s about to apologize, but then his eyes narrow, a defensive streak flaring up.

“Maybe I’m just trying to care for you,” he says quietly, but there’s an edge to his tone now. “If you’d let me, I could help you. I just want to make sure you’re okay. I hate seeing you like this.”

“I don’t need your help, Tighnari!” you snap, throwing your hands up in frustration. “I’m not some project for you to fix! You don’t get to decide what’s best for me!”

Tighnari sighs, rubbing his temple with one hand. “I get it, okay? But you’re not leaving me any choice, are you?” His voice softens, but there's a steely undertone now. "I won't stop looking out for you, whether you want it or not."

Your frustration with Kaveh’s relentless, overbearing affection reaches a boiling point. He’s been fussing, hovering over you like you’re some delicate object that needs his constant attention.

Kaveh

“Back off, Kaveh! I’m not some fragile doll you can keep wrapped around your finger!" You yell at the top of your lungs as you shove him away from you.

Kaveh stumbles back, taken aback by the force in your words, his usual confident swagger faltering for the first time. His eyes widen in shock, and his lips part as if he's about to apologize—but then the sheer intensity of your anger seems to hit him like a wave.

"Wait, what?" he stammers, trying to make sense of your outburst. He looks around, as if hoping the room itself will offer some kind of explanation. "I—I thought I was doing the right thing! I just... I care about you! I didn’t think you’d—"

“Care about me?!” you interrupt, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You think coddling me, making every decision for me, is love? You’re just trying to keep me on a leash, Kaveh. That’s not love, that’s control!”

Kaveh’s expression falters, hurt flashing across his features before it’s replaced with frustration. He takes a step forward, voice trembling slightly but with a hint of defensiveness. “I never meant it like that! I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I never—”

“You never thought!” you retort, your chest heaving as you struggle to contain the rage. “You never thought about what I want, what I need! You just assumed you know best. You’re suffocating me!”

Kaveh’s face softens, the hurt in his eyes giving way to guilt, but there’s still a spark of stubbornness left. “I... I never wanted to hurt you,” he mutters quietly, looking down, his shoulders slumping. “I just wanted to protect you from... from the world.”

But you’re done being patient. “I don’t need your protection, Kaveh! I need my freedom. And if you can’t give that to me, then maybe we shouldn’t be doing this at all.”

He looks crushed, but there’s something behind his eyes now—regret, yes, but also a deeper, more possessive undercurrent. He takes a slow breath, standing straighter, as if bracing himself. “If it comes to that… I guess I’ll just have to remind you how much you need me,” he says quietly, almost dangerously. His words hang in the air, a silent threat, but for a brief second, you see the raw emotion behind them.

For all Cyno’s jokes and smirks, you finally reach your limit. He’s always around, hovering like a shadow with that damn teasing grin. And for once, you just want him gone.

Cyno

“I’m done, Cyno!” you yell, voice thick with anger. “Just stop with the jokes, stop with the games, and stop watching me like a hawk! I don’t need a babysitter.”

He freezes mid-step, his grin gone, replaced by a serious expression that’s almost unreadable. “It was never about babysitting,” he says quietly, his eyes narrowing. But you’re past the point of caring. “No, it’s about you wanting control, Cyno. You need to know everything—where I am, who I’m with—you don’t own me!”

The tension in the room rises, and he watches you carefully. “Control isn’t the issue,” he finally says, his voice softer than you expect. “But I won’t apologize for making sure you’re safe.” He steps closer, his hand lingering by your shoulder, almost hesitant. “But,” he adds, leaning down to meet your gaze, “if you really feel that strongly about it, make me leave.”

With Sethos, it’s not just overprotection; it’s the possessive need to have you near, almost like a shadow clinging too close. He’s silent, watching, trailing after you with that unnerving devotion that makes it impossible to breathe sometimes. And today, you’ve had enough.

Sethos

“Will you just… back off for one damn minute, Sethos!” you shout, your patience snapping like a twig.

Sethos, unbothered, simply tilts his head, that cryptic, soft smile unfaltering. “Why should I? If I give you space, you’ll just wander off where I can’t protect you.”

You can feel yourself shake with frustration. “I don’t need protecting! And I sure as hell don’t need you lurking around every corner!” You take a step forward, jabbing a finger at him, your voice dangerously low. “Do you even get how suffocating you are?”

His smile wavers—just a flicker—and his eyes darken. He steps closer, a shadow casting over his expression. “Suffocating?” he whispers. “No, love… I’m keeping you safe. But if it’s suffocating you… well, that’s just unfortunate.” His fingers brush your cheek, cold, and possessive. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

[cailinsblog]

Young, Hot, and in Love- max verstappen

Max verstappen x reader

Masterlist

The sun was high, casting a warm, golden glow over the crystal-clear waters of the private beach. Max Verstappen leaned back in his chair, sunglasses perched on his nose, his tanned skin soaking up the sunshine. His girlfriend, Y/N, lay next to him on a matching lounger, a soft breeze teasing her hair as she sipped on a cold drink.

It was one of those rare days where neither of them had to worry about the pressures of the world—no races, no media obligations, just the two of them, the sound of the waves, and the endless stretch of blue skies.

Max let out a content sigh, glancing over at Y/N. She was scrolling through her phone, her lips curling into a soft smile every now and then. He couldn’t help but grin; even on their days off, she had this effortless beauty and charm that left him in awe.

Breaking the comfortable silence, Max stretched his arms overhead, his muscles flexing in the process. "You know," he said, his voice light and teasing, "I’m young, I’m hot, and this—" he gestured to the idyllic scene around them "—this is called heaven."

Y/N burst out laughing, lowering her phone and raising an eyebrow at him. "Oh, is that so?" she teased. "You think pretty highly of yourself, don’t you?"

Max smirked, placing a hand over his heart dramatically. "I’m just stating the facts, liefje. Young, hot, and living my best life with the most beautiful girl by my side. What more could a man want?"

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face. "Well, I can’t argue with the last part," she said playfully, leaning over to steal a quick kiss.

Max hummed in satisfaction, his hand moving to rest on her knee. "Exactly. And here’s the thing—you make this heaven even better."

Y/N laughed again, shaking her head as she leaned back in her chair. "You’re so full of it, Max."

"Maybe," he admitted, his grin widening. "But you love me for it."

She didn’t argue. Instead, she reached for his hand, lacing her fingers with his as they both sat back and enjoyed the peaceful rhythm of the ocean waves.

---

Later, as the sun began to dip lower in the sky, painting the horizon in hues of orange and pink, Max suggested a walk along the shore. Y/N agreed, and soon they were strolling hand in hand, their feet sinking into the cool, wet sand as the waves gently lapped at their ankles.

Max swung their joined hands lightly, his free hand occasionally reaching out to skip stones across the water. Y/N leaned into him, enjoying the quiet intimacy of the moment.

"You know," she said after a while, "I think you might be onto something."

Max looked down at her, his brow raised in curiosity. "Oh? About what?"

"This," she said, gesturing around them. "Being here with you, just the two of us, no distractions... it really does feel like heaven."

Max’s expression softened, and he stopped walking, turning to face her fully. "I’m glad you think so," he said, his voice low and earnest. "Because for me, heaven is wherever you are."

Y/N’s heart melted at his words, and she stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his waist. "You’re such a softie," she teased, but her eyes glimmered with affection.

"Only for you," Max replied, leaning down to press a tender kiss to her forehead. "You’ve made me realize that no matter how fast life moves, moments like this are what really matter."

They stood there for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms as the sky continued to shift through its stunning array of colors. Eventually, Max pulled back slightly, his playful side returning as he tugged Y/N toward the water.

"Come on," he said with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Let’s see who’s faster in the water."

Y/N squealed in protest as he took off running, splashing through the shallow waves. "Max! You know I’m not racing you!" she called after him, laughing as she tried to keep up.

Max stopped a few feet ahead, turning around with a wide grin. "I’ll give you a head start," he offered, his voice full of mock seriousness. "I mean, I’m young and hot, but I can be generous too."

Y/N groaned, shaking her head but laughing as she finally reached him. She shoved him lightly, sending a small wave of water splashing against his legs. "You’re impossible," she said, but the fondness in her tone was undeniable.

Max laughed, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her off the ground. "And you love it," he said, spinning her around before setting her down gently.

"I do," Y/N admitted, her hands resting on his chest. "I really, really do."

Max’s gaze softened, and he leaned in, capturing her lips in a slow, passionate kiss. The world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the sound of the waves and the warmth of their love.

When they finally pulled apart, Y/N rested her forehead against his, a content smile playing on her lips. "This is definitely heaven," she said softly.

Max smiled, his eyes shining with love. "Then let’s stay here forever."

And as the stars began to twinkle in the sky above, Max and Y/N continued to enjoy their little slice of paradise, knowing that as long as they were together, they could create their own version of heaven wherever they went.

[srovtl]

(in here, a magic that connect hearts) Figaro SSR Card Story Translation

The future illuminated by moonlight - Episode 1

Akira: (Where could Figaro be? There aren't any missions today, so I'm pretty sure he's in the magic manor...)

One day, some time after I started living at the magic manor.

It's been several months since I interviewed each wizard and wrote about them in the Book of Sages.

Now that I'm closer to everyone than I was back then, I'm going around asking them again, hoping to make the content new.

Akira: (? I hear voices coming from the common room...)

Figaro: Hey, Mitile. I'm so happy you're asking me about a problem you're having with your magic practice.

Figaro: I've been getting rejected a lot lately.

Mitile: I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...

In the room was Figaro, sitting on the sofa by the window, and Mitile, floating on a broom through the open window.

Mitile was in his practice clothes, so he must have been practicing magic outside.

Figaro: Ah, I didn't say it to trouble you. So, what do you want to ask?

Mitile: Um... is there any trick to sustaining the powerful magical power that's been revealed?

Mitile: Like when pushing back a strong tornado.

Figaro: Not an attack spell to knock it away?

Mitile: Yes. I've always been anxious to get stronger, but...

Mitile: Recently, I think I've started to understand why I want power.

Figaro: I see. You've gotten stronger, Mitile.

Figaro: Let's make that the topic of tomorrow's lesson. Self-study is fine, but don't push yourself too hard.

Mitile: …! Thank you!

Akira: (Mitile looks so lively... He must be happy that Figaro is teaching him the things he wants to know.)

Mitile turns around and leaves. At that moment, I heard footsteps from behind.

Faust: What are you doing, sage?

Akira: Wha, Faust?! Um, well...

Figaro: What are you two sneaking around doing? I'm getting jealous.

Figaro pops out of the common room. Knowing him, he may have already noticed that I'm here.

Faust: I wanted to discuss something about class, but it seems the sage was a little early.

Faust: I'll come back later.

Akira: S-Sorry. It's not urgent, but long story short I wanted to talk to you about the interview.

Figaro: I'd be happy to. No need to keep standing here, let's go to my room.

Figaro: Hm? Faust, you have dark circles under your eyes.

Faust: I just had trouble falling asleep last night. Nothing to worry about.

Figaro: I see. Then I'll bring you some herbs to help you fall asleep later.

Faust: It's just one night, Don't make a big deal out of it...

Figaro: Faust.

Faust: ……..

Faust: Fine, I get it.

Akira: (When looking at them this way, it's like Faust is Figaro's student too. They were originally in a master-disciple relationship after all...)

Akira: (Not only young wizards, but also long-lived wizards like Faust rely on him.)

The future illuminated by moonlight - Episode 2

Snow: Sage, how many sugars do you want in your tea?

Akira: Just one, please!

White: Okay! What about Figaro-chan?

Figaro: I'll go without. Also, why are you two in my room?

Snow: Hohoho! Because we heard the sage was going to interview Figaro.

White: As your master, we may be able to give you some advice. Also, I have to keep an eye on you to make sure you don't go too far.

Figaro: No trust at all.

Akira: Haha, it's okay. Figaro is a kind person, and I can always rely on him.

Akira: He has a broad perspective, is knowledgeable, and carefree...I don't think I'm the only one who's been helped by Figaro.

Figaro: I'm so happy to hear you think of me like that.

Figaro: Shall I tell you a side of me that you may not know yet?

Snow, White: That's what we mean, Figaro-chan~

Snow: But... There's no mistaking you for anything but an exceptional wizard.

White: Here, let us spoil you sometimes. Is there anything you want?

Figaro: Hmm, let's see.

Figaro: Maybe high-quality liquor? A fruit liquor that's been aged for hundreds of years under the eternal snow of the north...

Snow, White: Sure!

Figaro: Eh?

Snow, White: Here 《Noscomnia》!

As the two chanted the spell, an old-fashioned bottle appeared in their hands. The amber liquid swayed through the glass.

Snow: You play a part in running this ill-fated magic manor.

White: It's a master's duty to listen to their disciple's whims and show him kindness too.

Figaro: Are you sure? It must be quite valuable.

Snow: Of course. We received it as a tribute some time ago, and it's been sitting in the warehouse ever since.

White: Shall we have a toast now? I'm sure the sage will join us.

Akira: Yes! I'll just have tea, but if that's okay.

Figaro: Even the sage...

Figaro: Thank you. But I'll just accept the sentiment.

Figaro: I have some in stock on the shelves in my room, and I don't want to make you guys drink just for me.

Snow, White: Eh~ You sure?

Figaro: Besides, I'm going to talk to the Sage now, so I'll have some tea for a while.

Akira: Figaro...Thank you. Well then, let's get the interview started!

The future illuminated by moonlight - Episode 3

That evening.

Figaro: …….

While walking to the courtyard, I found Figaro sitting on the edge of the fountain with a glass in his hand.

I remember meeting Figaro here after my previous interview too.

Figaro: Oh, sage. You look happy. Did something good happen?

Akira: Good evening, Figaro. You looked like you were enjoying your drink so.

Figaro: Is that enough to make you happy? You're so cute.

Figaro: This is the drink we were talking about this afternoon. It's so good, I should have accepted the twins's after all.

Figaro: I had plenty, but this is the last glass.

Shaking the amber in his glass reluctantly, Figaro looked up at the moon.

Figaro: The moon is beautiful tonight too. It seems today is a day I get to talk a lot with you.

Figaro: Want to join me in a chat while I drink?

Akira: Yes, of course! 

I nodded and sat down next to Figaro.

The night breeze brushed against our cheeks. The sound of leaves rustling, and occasional voices coming from the magic manor.

Amid the quiet, comfortable hustle and bustle, the ice in the glass clanged.

Figaro: ...Hey. Do you remember the Moon's road we talked about here before?

Akira: ……

Figaro: Oh, I'm sorry. Was I being a bit mean?

Akira: No, it's just...

A moon road floating on the sea. Figaro once entered the freezing sea, chasing the light of the moon.

Everything that had parted with him lived in that beautiful silver world of the moon...

Figaro said that he saw it as a pathway to reach that place.

Akira: Do you still want to go beyond the Moon Road, Figaro?

Akira: The hometown you lost, the people you were separated from by death...

Akira: To meet all the people who left you behind.

Figaro: Let's see… What do you want me to do?

The silver moon shone on him.

The wise eyes of someone who has lived through so much time, quietly wait for my answer.

Akira: I don't want you to go.

Akira: There are still so many sights I want to see with you, so many things I want to do, and I haven't repaid your kindness yet.

Akira: I still haven't found a way for you to be happy.

Akira: And, more than anything, I'll be sad to say goodbye.

Figaro: Then, I won't go.

Akira: Figaro...

Figaro: I'm still here. Is it boring to give you the same answer as last time?

Akira: Not at all! It's the best answer. To me… it's really...

Figaro's long fingers lift his glass. The little bit of amber liquid that remains tilts, and his throat sallows.

He put his empty glass down and laughed softly.

Figaro: That's good to hear.

I can only say because it's now - Card Episode

Figaro: Hello, sage. Did the interview go well?

Akira: Yes! Talking to you all again, I'm deeply moved by the fact that we've spent such a long time together, even though it seemed short.

Akira: Some people have told me things that they can only say because it's now... Is there anything like that for you, Figaro?

Figaro: Hmm, I guess so. It's not really because it's now but...

Figaro: When I get cold in the night wind, I think drinking alcohol is good, but I've come to think that drinking hot tea is also good.

Akira: Maybe... you remembered what I recommended to you when we interviewed before?

Figaro: Yeah. The other day, I made some hot tea after I got back to my room.

Figaro: Thanks to that, I slept well.

Akira: That's great! Drinking alcohol while enjoying the night breeze must be nice, but...

Akira: I'd be worried if you got sick, so please keep it in moderation.

Figaro: If you say something so cute, I guess I have to be careful.

Figaro: In that case, would you like to join me for tea time again tonight so we don't end up drinking too much?

Akira: Yes, of course!

Homescreen Voiceline

One time, I offered to make a promise to someone, but I got rejected because they said they couldn't trust me. ...I wonder if, even a little, I've become a man who is worthy of trust now?

[instructionsnotincluded]

I just imagine JJ being pissed as hell once he founds out about rafe and Logan but once things start to settle rafe and JJ reluctantly work together. The banter between the two of the is going to be great 😂 could we maybe get a snippet of some kind of banter between them? Do you have any without spoilers? 😬☺️

Yessssss! I had to search, because they are all heavy with spoilers, but this one didn’t have as much and I was able to remove what was a spoiler!

18+ MDNI | Language, very suggestive conversation, references to sex and unprotected sex.

Logan padded quietly into the living room, her feet brushing across the soft rug as she wandered around the coffee table and over to Rafe, her boyfriend on the edge of the couch, hunched over a stack of documents spread out across the table.

“Anything?”

“No—it’s missing.” Rafe turned one of the pages over, hand running across his jaw, his family’s ring that he took from Tannyhill caught in the light and glinted on his index finger, a reminder of how far he’d gone, “She knows where it is too, I fucking know she does.”

“What do you think she did with it?” Logan asked, “I mean, it’s a lot of gold…”

“She didn’t do anything with it,” Rafe shook his head, groaning as he leaned back on the couch, arms folded across his chest, “she’s too dumb to know how to get it to Switzerland. Probably got distracted by QVC or something…”

Logan snorted, moving closer as he extended his arm in her direction, hand wrapping around her wrist to pull her down to his side, bringing her leg over his once she was settled, his fingertips brushing under the hem of her shorts, “Have you heard from Wheezie?”

“Yeah, talked to her earlier,” Rafe leaned his head back, eyes closing as Logan carded her fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp, “she said Sarah’s been cryin’ all day and Rose has been on the phone.”

“Who’s on the phone?”

Logan glanced over her shoulder towards the doorway, her brother wandering over from the stairs. His hair was damp, face clean, and clothing without stains—JJ Maybank was going somewhere.

“Rose,” Logan said, eyeing her brother as he adjusted the bracelets on his wrist, “and where are you going?”

“Out,” JJ rolled his shoulders back, glancing back up the stairs before he wandered further into the living room, “you’re stayin’ in right?”

“Yes,” Logan rolled her eyes as Rafe smoothed his palm over her thigh, “you don’t have to worry, I won’t leave the house.”

“Good,” JJ leaned over to pick up a few papers.

Rafe tried to catch the page before JJ took it, but wasn’t fast enough, “Do you even know how to read?”

“I read the instructions on how to annoy you, didn’t I?” JJ tapped his middle finger against the back of the paper he was reading, a message for Rafe, which resulted in the older boy rolling his eyes.

“I can see you didn’t finish it…”

“What can I say, cupcake,” JJ tossed the paper down, “it’s a long book—everything annoys you.”

Rafe exhaled slowly and Logan stroked her nails down the back of his neck, an amused albeit cautious smile across her face, still not quite used to their new relationship, her boyfriend and brother acting more and more like an old married couple every day. “Where are you going, JJ?”

“Bonfire,” JJ said, “John B’s gonna pick us—”

The Twinkie’s horn sounded a second later, the two beeps sounding more like a gurgle than anything else, and JJ took a step back towards the stairs, “Twinkie’s here, ladies!”

“One second!”

JJ ran a hand through his hair, “Women, gotta love ‘em.”

“Yeah?” Rafe rubbed his hand over Logan’s knee, “What do you know about women, JJ?”

“I can tell you I know a whole helluva lot more than you do, buddy boy…”

“I seriously doubt that,” Rafe nudged his head back against Logan’s hand pointedly, “I don’t hear any complaints from your sister…”

Logan tugged on Rafe’s hair in warning, but JJ only scoffed, much to her relief, “Well, we all know she loves a project.”

Before anyone else could respond, two sets of footsteps sounded on the stairs, Ellie and Kiara moving towards the front door, Ellie smiling at the couple in her living room, “Let’s go, J.”

“Right behind you, Sunshine.”

“Be good,” Logan called as JJ moved towards the front door, “don’t smoke too much and don’t mix your liquor.”

“Yes mom.”

“Use protection!” Rafe cupped a hand alongside his mouth so his voice carried further, wanting everyone to hear, “No glove, no love!”

Kiara’s laughter echoed out the door, but both JJ and Ellie blushed redder than the tomatoes in the produce section at Heyward’s, “Have fun!”

When the door closed, Rafe wrapped his arms around her, hauling her further into him, Logan’s hands sliding over his shoulders as she found her place in his lap, grinning down at him as he leaned back, palms open and sliding over her ass.

“No glove, no love, huh?” Logan trailed a freshly painted nail down the center of his throat, not at all missing the way his Adam’s Apple bobbed. “I distinctly remembering someone who very much wanted love with no glove.”

“You’re were on the pill.” Rafe slapped her ass and Logan giggled, “and we were building something, and if you said no I would’ve respected that.”

Logan slipped her fingers up the back of his neck, her eyes a little more hooded as she bit down on her lip, “We have the house to ourselves, you know. Everyone won’t be back until late…”

Rafe groaned, moving to press closer to her, head tilting back as he extended his neck, their lips meeting softly, slowly, “Is that right?”

“Mhmm…” Logan bit down on his lower lip, tugging it with her when they parted, her voice breathy and softer now, “Take me upstairs, baby.”

Rafe grinned, hoisting her up and into his arms. Logan half gasped half giggled as he scooped her up, her legs wrapping around his waist and arms around his neck as he moved towards the stairs, “Your wish is my command, doll.”

“Well in that case…” Logan pressed her lips to his ear, Rafe groaning and almost stumbling at the filthy things she started to whisper as he started up the stairs.

“Fuck—Lo…”

“…and I want it all the way in…”

“Shit, baby.”

[overnightheartbeats]

His touch was so soft, and instantly brought a smile to her face as he brushed her hair away. "With that line, they should be giving out a goodie bag afterwards. Wait, I'm pretty sure I saw them in the line! Those hands definitely did not meet the faucet." There was a whole other line for the sinks, some people did not want to wait. "That is a good one, I do love using that excuse." Laurel listened attentively, each option sounding better than the last. At least until he mentioned the healthier options, her nose scrunching up in slight disgust. "Those all sound so good, caramel apples and churro infused chocolate bar are calling my name."

A soft laugh escaped her while he nuzzled into her hair, in return, she moved to press a kiss to his nose. She was full of amusement feeling his hands around her waist, it was not as easy anymore, but it was fun that he still tried. "Snack and sitting break sounds perfect to me. Maybe just my wrists and back, please?" She knew he offered, but saying please was needed It was a lot to ask, after all. Laurel followed his glance to his siblings, and could only join in on his sigh. This was going to be a long road. "If anyone can understand a break, it's him. I understand, take your time, but when you are ready, just know there's more...nuance to that situation. You guys will be okay. You have all the best ideas, add that kiddie ride to our list after the snack break."

Her gaze remained on the Phillips siblings, relieved that their plans still remained, despite the chaos. She just hated that the chaos even came out the way that it had. Seeing the disappointment in Eli's eyes was something that just completely shattered her. It made her wonder if she should've tried to resolve this with Isaac much earlier. The mention of Juju and Aaron made her perk up, especially now that they lived much closer. "They said they would be here, did mention they might be a bit late." Laurel couldn't help the laugh, shaking her her head at him. "I wouldn't put it past them, but hm, are you getting ideas?" She was definitely just teasing, wiggling her brows at him.

"Tough choices," she hummed in thought, but soon realized his second question offered more than one. "Ooh okay, the caramel apple and the churro infused chocolate bar for sure, and then," her words trailed off as their attention was pulled away. The little girl's grin was infectious, listening to her talk to Eli, quickly understanding what the thank you was for. Laurel was beaming proudly as she met his eyes, knowing the thoughts coming to mind. The reason his new career was so fulfilling, why it meant so much to him. She glanced over at the little girl, her heart swelling at the sight. A purple flower. She could almost feel the tears pricking her eyes, this was the sweetest gift ever. "This is the best good luck charm ever, thank you," she breathed out, reaching out for the flower, before waving goodbye to her. She could see the little girl skipping away, back to her mom, and she could only watch in awe, thinking of their own babygirl. The excitement and awe of meeting their girl fueled her, even if their past experiences still instilled fear in her mind. But, this sweet girl wishing her luck, well Laurel had a good feeling. "How did she know...this is beautiful." Just like the flowers Eli gave her for their home. Bringing the flower to her nose, the faint scent pulled another smile from her. "Did you tell her about purple? Or is she just the world's best guesser?"

He hummed a laugh in response as he stared at her recount the bathroom story. One hand glided over her cheek to get a stray hair off and turned to look at the line. "You'd think they were giving away candy in there. I saw at least two older ladies coming out there like speed demons and wouldn't be surprised if hands were just shown the water." Some people had really disgusting habits. "That's when we use you're pregnant excuse and get out of trouble." His smile showed his amusement and sighed as he remembered what he had seen. "Stand over there has caramel apples with m&ms, peppermint bark, churro infused chocolate bar, and sour gummy worms. For the healthier options, a dairy free crust, apple pie made with real apples, fruit dipped in a pumpkin seed oil and a turkey club with cucumbers."

"No," he nuzzled into her hair and did his best to lock his hands around her waist. Which had become a little harder now with the protruding belly but he did his best. "I've actually had my fill of people. I am taking my break. We can have a snack and sit. I can rub your ankle or wrist or back while you do so?" Eli did a quick glance to the Phillip siblings and sighed. "I told him I needed a break. I didn't want to talk here and not yet so I'm doing the distance thing. I was honest with him and was serious when I said I didn't want to talk yet. I won't be an asshole but not ready. We could go on a kiddie ride the boxes that stay stationary but just give the birds eye view if you don't feel bad right now?"

He'd caught Emma's eyes and waved at her telling he was fine and all good. Inez looked over and did the same thing but Issac nearly broke his heart. He tried his best to show him that he didn't stop loving him, he was disappointed not angry at him. They were going to get through this just needed time. "Hey, where is juju and aaron?" Since they moved they all made it a habit to go on adventures together. No matter the day. "Are they getting it on behind a tree?" Eli joked knowing if anyone had such an appetite, it was Laurel.

"Alright? So what do you want for a snack? A little taste of everything or one in particular?" As he asked he got a tiny hand on his other leg trying to talk to him. He quickly faced them and saw their toothy grin and remembered the little girl from one of his saves two weeks ago. Seeing her mother he waved at her and listened as the little girl gave Laurel a purple flower and him a little locket. As a thank you for saving her grandparents lives. Eli was taken back with such a sweet gift and looked over at his girl. In words that didn't need to be spoken. This was why he did what he did. This is why his career as part of the Austin fire department made him feel like he made a difference. "The purple flower is for good luck on your little human coming." The little girl said and waved her goodbye.

[puppymiqwerty]

Landed a bf with a slobbable knob and a wonderful personality 😎

Life don't get much better

[palaceoftears]

Magnificent Century Rewatch: One Picspam per Episode

Episode 17: The Double Joy

-My dear mother used to say "walk barefoot on earth and it shall take away all your troubles and sorrows, earth shall give you happiness and joy"

-Your mother spoke well, one can only find peace in earth. But I'm not sure if it is on earth or in it.

[simple-and-cozy-life]

Can't wait to be a mom someday

[spearxwind]

This is gonna be such a weird post but id like to know if other people have this problem as well. Do any of you feel like... really misplaced uh. Embarrassment when looking at pictures of people on your phone? Especially people who you actually know, including yourself. Because i have this issue where i find it hard looking at pictures of both me and others (my friends and loved ones) if they are not """perfect""" looking (whatever that means to my brain) because im afraid of people eventually seeing them and judging them as less than perfect or pointing out imperfections etc.

Even knowing that no one but me will ever see said pictures i am haunted by the fear that since the pictures arent like. Idk, magazine cover worthy then people will find them cringe or embarrassing or god forbid ugly (and im a lover of ugly candid pictures too. I think they're the most charming). The way that some people judge a person and their appearance based on a single picture. So I struggle a lot showing pictures of my friends to my family for example out of this fear, and i really struggle to just take pictures of myself that arent from my one Brain Approved Angle(tm)

[phagodyke]

yeah I'm not gonna talk abt it am I...