#when I started typing these tags I couldn’t open that eye but now I can
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AHHHHHHHH OH GOD DONT RUB YOUR EYE AFTER HANDLING A BAG OF SPICY BIRDSEED
#I am in agony#literally had to pull off and park somewhere because I can’t fuckin see out of one eye rn#I’m like crying in the golf store parking lot lmfao#my eye is watering so much… getting better though#when I started typing these tags I couldn’t open that eye but now I can#okay back on the road lol
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Can I request Toji x reader smut (established relationship) where Toji’s dick slips out and the reader puts it back in?
CAN’T BE OUT A SECOND LONGER !?
a/n: :3 / tagging @jabamin @kizoken @kentophilia @redskyvenus @screampied ✶
warnings: soft dom!toji, fem!reader, reader deep in sub space, slight daddy kink, implied oral (both f and m receiving), sex under the influence, unprotected p → v sex, pussy slapping, breeding / creampie kink, implied multiple rounds, n*sfw under the cut
it’s simply too difficult seeing toji in proper attire, especially when he’s attending your brother’s wedding in a suit and tie, something he reserves for truly important events like these. otherwise, he’d just be in his sweatpants and compression shirt.
not that he didn’t look good in that — but it was eye-opening when he made the effort to get a suit jacket and waistcoat with a tie that matched your dress, hanging off his arm while you watch your brother go crazy on the dance floor.
“you okay there, doll?” his voice is soft over the booming sound system but you catch the concern laced in his words, knowing you had quite a few glasses of wine and mixed other types of liquor with the groom’s toast. “we can head back if you want.”
it’s all that you want but you want to do it discreetly, trailing a hand down his toned arm to twine your fingers with his. with a turned head toward him, you look up at him through your eyelashes.
“yeah . . let’s. i wanna—” toji isn’t fully sober either, the intoxication contributing to the blurriness of everyone else while your face stays in ultra focus; your exposed clavicle, your pouty lips. he can already feel himself getting semi-hard.
“you wanna what?”
you’re able to walk back to your hotel room, but with a giddy smile and laughter from your throat, pressing a firm hand against your lipsticked lips with a frown.
“no, not while you have alcohol in your body—”
you push his hand away, latching onto broad shoulders and making sure you appear as sober as you can to him, “what’s with a little alcohol, toji? you couldn’t find our floor in the elevator earlier either.”
teasing is your forte, moving a hand up and down his chest, over his waist, unbuttoning his waistcoat — and it’s true; toji’s a little gone as well, asking you a few more times until you’re shaking him by his lapels and telling him to “get naked already!”
that warrants a laugh from toji and he gives into you, definitely more open to drinking with you before you two get it on because he notices how everything just sends his skin ablaze: your mouth around his tip, his tongue slurping up your juices.
toji’s on cloud nine when you sink down on his cock, easing it into your waiting cunt after the many, many minutes of prep. your moans mingle with your boyfriend’s grunts, hyper aware of his hands that wrap around your waist to help you.
“cunt so t-tight, sweetheart, thought i stretched you out enough—” you’re silent, already half gone from the liquor in your body that it heightens your senses the same way it does to toji. with a hand, you guide him into you, whining softly at the small amount of pain it harbours.
“slow . . baby, don’t rush,” his words sound miles away when he speaks, eyes locked onto your bent body and your ass on display as you start to bottom out, “that’s it, you got it— good girl.” he maps out the line down your back, your tilted head, admiring you with one hand behind his head along the headboard; and when you start bouncing when he fully appreciates the high of whiskey.
the way your gummy walls hug his length, the fluttering your pussy does around his cock, the jiggle of your ass once you start moving — nothing compares to your moans though, hands forming marks on his thighs from how tightly you hold onto them.
“t-toji . . nngh—” incoherent sentences leave your lips, every hump of your hips providing a little friction for your clit. “s’good, daddy . .”
“is it now?” toji hums at the nickname and smiles to himself, admiring the transparent webs of your cum that sticks to your ass and his pelvis. instinctively his hips move up to meet yours, chuckling deeply when you lurch forward and moan loudly at the way he splits you open, so much so that you can feel him against your cervix.
“you just stay there, baby, i’ll do the work,” he grunts out and stays true to his word, planting his feet down just so he can thrust up into you. your body moves with his, eyes rolling to the back of your head and legs spreading even more, but his hips are just too eager to feel your tight pussy around him that his cock slips out with a sloppy shlick.
your annoyed whine makes the other laugh again, but before he can reach forward to help you, you’re helping yourself, looking back at him dizzily and then to his pelvis, feeling around for his cock. you stroke it a few times and tap it against your folds, the dim lighting of the bedroom illuminating your skin and figure so perfectly.
“oh, f-fuck— you’re giving daddy a show, hm?” he says, words just above a whisper, watching how your hips grind against him. but being turned away from him has you having a little more difficulty, tip slipping out every few times toji tries to ram into you and he watches in awe with every time you glance back at him through hooded lids and lolling tongue.
and every time you’re scrambling back to get his length into you, to trail his throbbing tip along your slit to stretch yourself out, to roll your hips with disgusting squelching noises that emphasised how needy you were.
“tojiii . .” you sob when it happens again and toji’s pleasantly surprised to see you close to crying, eyes welling with tears in frustration. you just want him close, but your body’s already too loopy and too fatigued to hold yourself up so toji pulls on you with a tsk.
“dramatic princess, c’mon, i got ya,” from here you can see just how much of a mess you made — juices smeared all over your inner thighs, cunt still leaking, “but i need you t’do somethin’ for me, yeah?”
you sigh as his arm wraps around your middle and his other pulls on your knee so one leg is pulled to your chest; a good enough position, as long as he could fuck you in it. “what is it?”
there’s a certain pout in your voice that he catches, “help daddy get his cock back in you, baby.”
“but—”
“don’t worry,” toji soothes you with a kiss to your temple, adjusting you to properly accommodate you atop of body. not that he couldn’t handle your weight, oh, it was something he loved, but he only hopes you know what’s in store from the very first time you showed him how much you loved his cock in you that it almost brought you to tears.
he needs to see your focused face as you ease him into you, see that focused expression fall into pure ecstasy and a long, languid moan leave your lips as you totally surrender to him. you tick all the boxes soon after, reaching blindly for him while you both watch as you rub his pulsing dick along your sensitive clit; the other has to teasingly buck his hips to get your head back in the game.
“need to feel you ’round me, pretty girl, c’mon. don’t waste time,” he rasps out next to your ear, seeing the bite of your lip through his peripheral as you shamelessly whine at the entrance, sounds coming to a halt when you’re halfway through his length, and then a beautiful arch of your back when your boyfriend bottoms out in you.
“t-toji— mmgh—!”
“use your big girl words, baby.”
but he starts moving and you simply can’t, each vein, each twitch of his cock you can feel it with your sopping pussy as the room starts to smell like sex and sweat. toji holds both your legs, now, making sure you have a clear view of his hips fucking up into yours and relishes in how he’s already rendered you speechless.
“makin’ ya feel good? huh?”
“y-yeah . . daddy . . you feel so fucking g-good,” you barely manage to speak, not noticing the slight stutter he has when the nickname falls from your lips, but you do notice when his pace becomes regular and faster, panting out when your hand starts to rub at your clit. every slap of his pelvis against yours is like a reminder of toji’s overpowering strength over you, holding you up so easily, back curved to fit into his front perfectly.
“you feel so goddamn good too, princess,” he breaths out, feeling your rub circles into your clit and his eyes zone in on how his cock moves in and out of your cunt, taking him so nicely and pliantly that he feels his heart swell, “you know i can never get enough of y’r pussy.”
your heart and pussy pounds harder at that, fully letting your head rest along his shoulder while your body rocks limply along with his thrusts. toji can’t resist giving you kisses along your jawline, sending even more shivers down your whole body before he asks something of you.
“slap your pussy for me, doll,” he grunts into your ear and instantly feels you clench, able to feel his smile against your jawline, “so, soo filthy, just f’me.” you nod, each breath you take a moment of anticipation with someone as gruff but gentle as toji.
“now, spank it.” you obey, giving your pussy a few timid slaps until he releases one leg and shows you how it’s done — harsh, rough slaps against your clit that sends jolts of electricity, and your legs shake in his hold. his laugh is just sadistic, but you love every moment of it, even more so when he spanks your pussy again.
that paired with the noisy pap! pap! pap! sounds of skin slapping has your eyes rolling into your skull together with a convulsing body, not even able to give toji a proper warning before his hand lands on your core on a particularly hard spank and you’re cumming with a cry of his name, squirting all over the sheets and gushing over his cock.
multiple yes’s linger on your lips that it merges together into god knows what, “toji, toji— yesyesyes—” and like a good boyfriend, he talks you through until your pussy calms down and your stomach stops heaving, but god, you needed more.
your hips never stop grinding against his and toji takes it as a sign to chase his high, abandoning your clit before he slams into you like an animal, obscene squelches only highlighting how all of your cum was spraying everywhere. toji bites down into your neck and you gasp both in pain and pleasure, letting your body be used by him until his hips jerk.
“want to be buried in this fucking pussy forever,” it’s strained when he says it and groans when your cunt clenches around him. and it’s not long before he’s spilling his load, so thick and hot into your womb. it just fills you to the brim, little whimpers and mewls weasel themselves out of your throat before it’s taken by toji, a kiss that has you feeling like fire. “love my baby’s pussy, love you.”
“l-love you too, daddy,” you say with a giggle before turning your body over and you can feel his cum start to dribble out, eyes cloudy with the wanton need of more before you start to move down.
a swirl of your tongue, a hiss from toji, “and i love his cock, too.”
#asks#anon#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#toji smut#toji fushiguro smut#toji x reader#fushiguro toji x reader#toji x you#touji fushiguro#toji fushiguro#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk drabbles#jjk thirsts#fushiguro toji smut
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nanami taking care of his sick wife ᯓᡣ𐭩 ⟡ ˖ ࣪. tags ; fluff, domesticity, very light smut lol
nanami, who actually went out of his way to leave work early just to buy groceries to make you soup for lunch and buy some medicine from the pharmacy. he couldn’t bare seeing you groggy and disoriented from your fever. you couldn’t even make it out of bed this morning. when he got home, he saw you laying on the couch this time draped in all of the warm blankets and a wash cloth over your forehead, napping peacefully with your water bottle beside you. it was a good thing that he reminded you to stay hydrated.
nanami, who makes his way to the kitchen to start on making the soup for you to wake up to. he prioritizes your health so much that he would never want to stress you out. he’s devoted to be by your side, including in sickness and in health, just as you are for him. this gentle, passionate love reciprocated between you two is the type of love that leaves you numb in reverie. he would check in on you while waiting for the water to boil, changing the dampened wash cloth from room temperature to cool, and caressing your face ever so gently just to not wake you.
nanami, who is the first man you see when your eyes flutter open. his smile was stronger than any antidote or medicine, strong enough to make your fatigue temporarily subside. you instantly melt from the way he can mutter sweet such things, all while the lovely smell of warm homemade chicken noodle soup fills your nose. he would even hold your frail hand, ever so gently kissing it.
“how are you feeling, love?”
his delicate touch and the warmth of his hand sent a blossoming sensation within your body. you couldn’t help but smile, the glimmer in your eyes rapturing your husband. “a little better,” you mutter weakly, sighing deeply. “i never thought you’d see me like this…”
“in sickness and in health, remember?” he reassures, his thumb caressing your hand. “now, are you feeling hungry? i came home early to make you soup. just wanted to make sure my pretty wife gets taken care of.”
“i love you,” you murmured fondly. “thank you so much.”
“i love you, too... god, i want to kiss you right now. i couldn’t go on my day not kissing you at all this morning.”
as much as you tried to protest because you didn’t want to get him sick, your loving husband did not care. contagious or not, if he gets to spend more time with you and not have to go to work for being sick, he’d allow it. your husband would wrap the blankets around you as you stood up to walk to the dining table for the soup he prepared. he’d make sure you were still staying hydrated with water and your favorite energy drinks. and after you took the medicine he bought, you were feeling slightly better. your skin wasn’t as hot and your body temperature had decreased, but you were still groggy. you wanted to stay on the couch, but nanami insisted on cuddling with you. he still wanted to hold his endearing wife in his arms; it was a routine every time he comes home. he’d still feel devoted to hold you and feel your body on his, sick or not.
his excuse was that if you had just gotten sick in the morning, eventually he’d have to be as well since you two live together— and if you were both sick, he’d have to cuddle with you. you tried to protest once again because you genuinely didn’t want him to suffer any symptoms, but he kept insisting that he didn’t care. he’d let you sit on his lap and lay on his chest, his slick hands roaming about your warm body as he kisses you softly. he wouldn’t be so aggressive because of your fatigue, but with his burning rapacity and his desire to please you, it was difficult to take his hands off of you.
nanami, who had your body writhing in heat and your hips gyrating from the way he toys with your cunt and fingers you so good. you both sat by the fireplace in the living room, the passion between you two mystified into the air. you loved the way his fingers felt inside you; throwing your head back on his shoulder in pleasure and your moans becoming more urgent with each thrust, that such intense orgasms were enough to make the blood rush in your veins and release endorphins, improving your mood and soothing the fatigue from your fever. oh how you both loved each other so deeply, that for every moment he spends with you, it was pure bliss to him.
#nanami kento#nanami kento x reader#husband!nanami kento#nanami x reader#nanami x reader fluff#jujutsu kaisen fluff#nanami x you#nanami fluff#nanami kento fluff#jjk fluff#jjk x reader#jjk nanami#jjk nanami smut#nanami smut#nanami kento smut
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i love you, in every time ࿐‧₊ 1854 - could it be love?
chapter summary: You meet Logan, a young man who is briefly stopping by in New York City. Despite both of your better judgments, you quickly realize that perhaps there's nothing wrong with falling in love.
word count: 22.2k+
pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader
notes: ahh!! welcome to this new series! i'm very excited to start this journey with all of y'all! just a note, when i say 'character death(s)' in the warnings it means that reader is going to die at the end of every chapter. that's the entire premise of this series, which was inspired by the 11th doctor and clara (iykyk). but first, we have a lot of time to cover before we even reach the first x-men movie so strap in!
i also didn't mean for this to be as long as it is, oops
warnings/tags: fluff, angst, outdated mindsets on women, slow burn, illness, character deaths
series masterlist → chapter 2
You didn’t necessarily love your job, but it was better than other options available for you. You grumbled to yourself as you walked down the sidewalk of New York City, horses neighing and wheels rattling on the brick street.
The bonnet on your head protected you from the sun beating down, keeping you from further heat in your dress. You had many things to do while you were out, get the children some new clothes and toys, buy some groceries, and buy some extra cloth for when you eventually had to sew their clothing.
As you passed by a small shop, you paused, peering in through the window. A few wooden toys sat on the shelf inside, simple and sturdy. Perfect for the boys. You pushed the door open, a little bell jingling as you entered, and you made your way toward the display.
"Can I help you, miss?" The shopkeeper’s voice startled you, but you smiled politely.
"Just looking for some toys," you replied, eyes scanning the shelves.
As you picked up a carved wooden horse, the door opened again behind you, letting in a bit of fresh air and a man’s heavy footsteps. You didn’t pay it much mind until you felt a presence nearby, a little too close for comfort. You turned slightly, catching sight of a tall man with dark hair and an unshaven face, dressed in a rough shirt and worn pants, a bit out of place among the polished streets of the city.
He glanced your way, his sharp eyes catching yours for a brief moment before he looked back to the shelves.
Something about him felt different—dangerous, but not in the way that made you want to run. More like it pulled you in, made you curious.
You turned back to the toys, but your mind kept wandering back to the stranger standing nearby. You couldn’t help but glance his way again.
"Those are good for little ones," the man said, his voice rough but casual. He nodded at the toy horse in your hand. "They hold up well. Tougher than they look."
You raised an eyebrow, surprised by his sudden comment. "You have experience with them?"
His lips twitched, almost a smile. "A bit. Used to make ‘em myself."
You looked him over more closely now, intrigued. "You don’t seem like the toy-making type."
His eyes flicked to yours, something amused in the way he looked at you. "Not anymore," he said, then turned his attention back to the shelves.
There was a silence between you for a moment, but it didn’t feel awkward. If anything, it felt like he didn’t mind you being there, like he was used to people drifting in and out of his space.
You finally spoke again. "I suppose these are sturdy enough for two boys, then."
"Yeah. They’ll survive a beating."
You laughed, the sound surprising you. He gave you another look, a bit more interested this time. There was something about him that made you feel seen in a way that was different from how most men looked at you.
You gathered a few more toys, careful not to spend too much, but you couldn’t resist getting something extra for the little girl you looked after. She was sweet, and it wasn’t her fault she was stuck in such a strict household.
The stranger watched you with those sharp eyes, like he could see more than what was right in front of him. You wondered what his story was, but you weren’t about to ask.
As you headed to the counter, he followed, though he didn’t buy anything. The shopkeeper took your coins, and you gathered your parcels, still feeling the man’s presence behind you.
"Thanks for the advice," you said over your shoulder, more as a courtesy than anything else.
He nodded, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "Anytime."
With that, you left the shop, stepping back into the sunlight, the weight of your errands still on your shoulders. But as you walked away, you couldn’t help but feel like something had shifted. Like maybe that wasn’t the last time you’d see him.
---
Edwin and Phillip seemed to enjoy the toy you got them, already fighting over who gets to play with it first. They were the eldest, Edwin was 9, Phillip was 7, and Ada was 6. You handed her the toy you got for her, one she got to keep all to herself.
Ada's face lit up when you handed her the small, carved doll. She held it in her hands gently, like it was the most precious thing in the world.
"For me?" she asked, her voice soft with disbelief.
You smiled and nodded. "Just for you, Ada."
Her eyes sparkled, and she hugged the doll to her chest. "Thank you!"
Edwin and Phillip were already in the middle of their tug-of-war with the wooden horse, the two boys shouting over whose turn it was.
"I had it first!" Edwin argued, pulling the toy toward him.
"You always get it first!" Phillip shot back, his voice growing louder.
You sighed and stepped in, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. "Why don't you take turns? If you can't share, I'll have to take it away, and no one gets to play with it."
They both groaned but reluctantly agreed, setting the horse on the floor. Edwin was a bit of a handful, but he could be sweet when he wanted to be. Phillip, the quieter one, usually followed his brother’s lead. At least Ada wasn’t much trouble.
After helping Ada settle in with her new toy, you turned to check on the boys, making sure they hadn’t already forgotten your words. But as you did, your thoughts drifted back to the man in the shop. There was something about him—something that lingered in your mind even now. He didn’t fit in with the usual crowd you saw around here, but he didn’t seem bothered by that.
It was odd, though, that someone like him would be in a toy shop of all places. You tried to shake the thought away, but it kept creeping back, a sense that your brief encounter meant more than it appeared.
Later, after the children had settled down, you found yourself with a rare quiet moment. You sat by the window, staring out at the street below, watching the people passing by. The day was winding down, the sky fading into hues of orange and pink, and yet, the man’s sharp eyes lingered in your mind.
You shook your head, scolding yourself for thinking too much about a stranger. It was just a passing moment—nothing more. You had far more important things to focus on, like taking care of the children and making sure everything ran smoothly for the household. That man, whoever he was, wasn’t part of your world.
But still, something in the back of your mind whispered that you’d see him again. And the thought of it didn’t exactly bother you.
---
The next few days were a blur of your usual routine. The children kept you busy, and you barely had a moment to yourself. But even as you went through the motions of your daily life, you couldn't help but feel that sense of something—or someone—waiting.
It was on a brisk afternoon, a few days after your encounter at the shop, when you found yourself running errands again. The streets were busier than usual, with carriages clattering over the cobblestones and people bustling past in a hurry. You had a long list of things to pick up, and the thought of weaving through the crowded market already had you dreading the trip.
As you made your way through the streets, you spotted a familiar figure standing at the corner near a fruit stand. The man from the shop. He hadn’t seen you yet, but something about the way he stood, slightly apart from the rest of the crowd, watching the passersby with a quiet intensity, made you pause.
You debated for a moment. Should you approach him? Or would it seem too forward?
Before you could decide, his gaze lifted, and he spotted you. His eyes narrowed, a flicker of recognition passing over his features, but he didn’t move. He just stood there, watching you.
You took a deep breath and made your way over, your curiosity getting the better of you.
"Fancy seeing you here again," you said, trying to sound casual as you approached.
"Didn’t expect to run into you either," he replied, his voice still rough, but there was a hint of something in his tone. Amusement? Interest? You couldn’t quite place it.
"I was just running errands," you said, gesturing to the market behind you. "You know how it is."
He nodded, his eyes flicking over you for a moment before landing back on the crowd. "Yeah, I get it."
There was a beat of silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, it almost felt... familiar. Like talking to him wasn’t so strange after all.
"Are you from around here?" you asked, breaking the silence.
He shook his head. "Not really. Just passing through."
"Do you always pass through toy shops when you're in town?"
His lips quirked into that almost-smile again. "Only when I feel like it."
You couldn’t help but chuckle. "Mysterious, aren’t you?"
He shrugged, not giving much away. "Maybe."
You were about to ask him something else when a shout came from behind you. You turned to see one of the street vendors, an older man, calling out angrily at a young boy who had clearly tried to swipe an apple from his cart.
Before you could even react, the man next to you stepped forward. His movements were quick and fluid, like he was used to handling situations like this. He reached the boy before the vendor could get too close, gripping the kid by the collar.
"Hey," the man said, his voice low but firm. "That’s not how you do things."
The boy froze, wide-eyed, clearly not expecting to be caught so quickly.
"Put it back," the man ordered.
The boy, trembling slightly, dropped the apple back onto the cart. "I’m sorry!" he blurted out before scurrying off into the crowd.
You watched as the man exchanged a few words with the vendor, calming him down before he turned back to you, his expression unreadable.
"You didn’t have to do that," you said, surprised by how quickly he had handled the situation.
He shrugged again. "The kid’ll learn his lesson. Better this way than the other options."
You looked at him, a little more curious now. He wasn’t just some rough-around-the-edges stranger. There was something deeper to him, something that made you want to know more.
“I don’t think I caught your name the other day,” you settled on, meeting his eyes as the energy of the crowd buzzed around you both.
He gave a small nod, like he was considering whether to answer or not. "Logan," he said simply.
"Logan," you repeated, trying the name on your tongue. It suited him, rough around the edges but solid. "I’m Y/N."
His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he gave another slight nod, acknowledging it. The silence between you wasn’t heavy, but it felt like something unspoken passed through the space. Something that told you he wasn’t just another passerby in your life.
"Thanks for helping that kid back there," you said, breaking the quiet. "Not everyone would step in like that."
Logan shrugged like it was nothing, his eyes scanning the crowd again. "Not a big deal."
You tilted your head slightly, studying him. "You do that a lot? Play the hero?"
A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, barely there, but it was enough. "No. Just don't like seeing people get hurt when I can do something about it."
There was a gruffness to his words, but it didn’t feel forced. It felt real. And it was clear that he wasn’t the type to go around explaining himself to anyone. You liked that.
"Well, either way, it was good of you." You glanced down at the parcels in your arms, suddenly remembering the rest of your errands. "I should probably get going, before I’m late getting back."
Logan gave you a small nod, his eyes flicking down to your parcels. "You take care."
You hesitated, a part of you not wanting to walk away just yet. But what could you say? You didn’t know this man, not really, and yet you felt drawn to him in a way that was hard to explain. Maybe it was the way he carried himself, like he had been through more than he let on. Or maybe it was the quiet strength in him that made you feel oddly safe.
"Maybe I’ll see you around?" you offered, not wanting to make the goodbye feel so final.
Logan’s eyes met yours again, and for a moment, there was something softer in his gaze. "Yeah. Maybe."
With that, you gave him a small smile and turned to leave, weaving your way through the bustling street. As you walked, you couldn’t help but glance back once, just to see if he was still there. He was, standing where you left him, watching you go.
---
The following days fell back into your usual routine—taking care of the children, running errands, keeping the household in order. Yet, no matter how busy you were, your thoughts kept drifting back to Logan. Something about him lingered in your mind, and it wasn’t just because he had helped out that kid. There was something deeper, something you couldn’t quite shake.
You found yourself wondering if he really was just passing through, or if there was more to his story than he was letting on. You didn’t know why it mattered so much, but it did.
One afternoon, as you were helping Ada tie the ribbon on her new dress, she looked up at you with her big, curious eyes.
"Y/N, are you thinking about something?" she asked innocently.
You blinked, surprised. "Why do you ask?"
"Because you’re smiling," she said, her voice soft and sweet.
You hadn’t even realized. "Oh," you said, chuckling softly. "I guess I was just lost in thought."
Ada giggled, her small hands playing with the ribbon you had just tied. "You think about a lot of things."
"That’s because I have to keep track of all you rascals," you teased, tickling her side gently.
She squealed in delight, wriggling away from you, and you couldn’t help but laugh. But as you settled back into the moment, that same thought returned, uninvited. Logan. Would you see him again?
---
It wasn’t long before the answer came.
You were out in the market again, picking up some fresh bread for dinner. The smell of the bakery wafted through the air, warm and comforting. You had just handed over your coins to the baker when you felt that familiar presence—something just outside the edge of your awareness, like a shadow that suddenly moved.
Turning slightly, your eyes caught sight of Logan standing near a fruit cart, his hands in his pockets, watching you. It wasn’t a surprise this time, but your heart still gave a little flutter at the sight of him. You made your way over, the crowd parting as you walked.
"Logan," you greeted, a smile pulling at your lips before you could stop it.
"Y/N," he replied, nodding in acknowledgment. His expression didn’t change much, but there was something almost... pleased in his eyes. Like he had expected you to come over.
"Still passing through?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.
He glanced around the busy street before answering. "Seems like I’ve been here longer than I planned."
"Any reason for that?" you asked, half-joking but also genuinely curious.
Logan looked at you for a long moment, like he was debating how much to say. Finally, he shrugged. "No reason."
You didn’t believe him for a second, but you let it go. Instead, you gestured to the bread in your basket. "If you’re still around tomorrow, you should come by the park. I take the children there sometimes in the afternoons. It’s quieter than here."
Logan’s eyes flicked to yours, considering. "Maybe I will."
You nodded, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction from his answer. It was small, but it was something.
"Well," you said, shifting the basket on your arm. "I should get back before the boys tear the house down."
Logan smirked at that, and you felt a warmth spread through you at the sight of it. He wasn’t a man who smiled easily, but when he did, it felt like a reward.
"Take care," he said, his voice low and steady, and you couldn’t help but notice how those words made you feel safe in a way you hadn’t expected.
As you walked away, the warmth of his gaze stayed with you, lingering long after you’d turned the corner.
---
The next day, you found yourself at the park, just as you had promised. Edwin and Phillip were racing around, laughing as they chased each other, while Ada sat quietly by your side, her doll clutched in her hands.
You tried not to look around for Logan, but you couldn’t help it. Every time someone passed by, your heart gave a little jump, only to settle back down when you realized it wasn’t him.
Just as you were beginning to think he wouldn’t show, you heard the sound of heavy footsteps approaching. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was.
"Mind if I join you?" Logan’s voice was calm, but there was something in it that made you smile.
You glanced up, meeting his eyes. "Not at all."
Logan gave a nod, lowering himself onto the bench beside you. He stretched his long legs out, looking completely at ease. The sounds of the children’s laughter filled the air, and for a moment, you just sat in companionable silence.
“Boys giving you trouble?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly.
“They always do,” you replied, watching as Edwin tackled Phillip to the ground. “But I think they’d explode if they didn’t.”
Logan’s lips twitched at that—almost a smile. “Kids’ll do that. Got too much energy.”
You tilted your head, studying him out of the corner of your eye. “You got siblings?”
Logan paused for a second, like the question had caught him off guard. “Yeah. A brother.”
You didn’t press, sensing there was more to the story but knowing better than to pry. Instead, you turned your attention back to the children.
“Do you have any?” Logan asked, nodding toward the boys.
“No,” you said, shaking your head. “I look after them for the family I work for. They keep me busy, though. Might as well be mine.”
He gave a soft grunt of acknowledgment, resting his elbows on his knees.
“And her?” Logan nodded toward Ada, who sat a little apart from the boys, her doll tucked protectively in her arms.
“That’s Ada,” you said, smiling softly. “She’s the quiet one. A little sweet thing, really.”
“She’s got good taste,” Logan remarked, glancing at the doll in her hands.
You chuckled. “That was the least I could do for her. Life’s not exactly fun in that house.”
Logan’s gaze flicked toward you, something unreadable in his expression. “It never is.”
You frowned, catching the weight behind his words, but before you could ask what he meant, Ada wandered over to you. She gave Logan a curious glance but stayed close by your side.
“Who’s he?” Ada whispered, gripping your sleeve.
You smiled. “This is Logan. He’s a friend.”
Logan gave her a small nod, and Ada, ever cautious, just stared at him with wide eyes. After a beat, she leaned in close to you and whispered, “He looks like a bear.”
You tried—really tried—not to laugh, but it slipped out anyway. Logan gave a low chuckle of his own, shaking his head slightly.
“Smart kid,” he murmured.
Ada, encouraged by your laughter, gave a shy smile. Then she wandered back toward the boys, apparently satisfied with Logan’s presence.
“She’s got you figured out,” you teased, grinning.
Logan’s expression softened just a bit, and he gave a small shrug. “Kids see things plain.”
You leaned back on the bench, letting yourself relax. It was strange, how easy it felt to be around him. You didn’t know much about him—hardly anything, really—but something about Logan made you feel like you didn’t need to fill the silence with useless conversation.
“Do you ever stop moving?” you asked suddenly, curious. “You said you were just passing through, but it seems like you’ve stayed a bit longer.”
Logan didn’t answer right away. He stared out at the park, his expression thoughtful.
“Sometimes,” he said finally. “Not often, though.”
“That sounds lonely.”
His jaw twitched slightly, and he turned his head to look at you. “You get used to it.”
You held his gaze for a moment, sensing that there was more beneath the surface than he was letting on. But instead of prying, you just nodded, accepting his words for what they were.
“Well, if you ever feel like staying in one place for a bit, you know where to find me,” you said lightly.
Logan’s eyes flickered with something—something you couldn’t quite name—but he gave a small nod, like he was filing that thought away.
“Appreciate it,” he murmured.
Before you could say more, Edwin and Phillip came barreling toward you, out of breath and covered in dirt.
“Y/N! Y/N!” Edwin shouted. “Phillip said he could run faster than me, but I totally won!”
Phillip scowled, wiping mud off his cheek. “Only because you pushed me.”
“You pushed him?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at Edwin.
Edwin squirmed. “Not that hard.”
Logan snorted quietly, drawing both boys’ attention. They looked at him with wide, curious eyes.
“Who’s that?” Edwin whispered loudly, leaning closer to you.
“That’s Logan,” you said. “He’s a friend.”
Edwin tilted his head, squinting up at Logan. “You look tough.”
Logan’s lips twitched. “I get that a lot.”
“Can you fight?” Edwin asked eagerly, his eyes lighting up. “Like—like really fight?”
“Edwin!” you scolded, but Logan just gave a small chuckle.
“Yeah,” Logan said. “A bit.”
“Whoa!” Edwin’s jaw dropped, clearly impressed. Phillip, more cautious, stayed quiet but kept his eyes on Logan like he was trying to figure him out.
“Alright, enough of that,” you said, gently ushering the boys away. “Go play before I make you help with dinner.”
Edwin groaned but dragged Phillip along, the two of them running back toward the trees.
You glanced at Logan, shaking your head. “You’ve got yourself some new fans, it seems.”
Logan huffed softly. “Kids are alright.”
There was a pause, and then you asked quietly, “You really do keep moving, don’t you?”
Logan looked at you, his expression serious. “Yeah.”
You bit your lip, unsure of what to say. There was something in his eyes that told you he’d seen more than most—more than you could probably imagine.
“Well,” you said softly, “if you ever get tired of running, you know where to find me.”
Logan held your gaze for a long moment, his eyes searching yours. Then, with the barest hint of a smile, he nodded.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
---
You saw Logan more often than not. Truth be told, you enjoyed his presence. He was different than the other men you had met, not as harsh, didn’t look down on you, or see you as an object.
One day, while walking around the market with a small basket, filled with a few apples and some bread, you looked at a carriage, rolling along the brick road with a horse in front.
“I never learned how to ride a horse,” you said, glancing at the carriage as it rolled along the cobblestone street. The words came out before you even knew why you said them, maybe just filling the space between you and Logan.
Logan, walking beside you, gave you a sidelong glance. The faintest trace of a smirk played at the corner of his mouth. “That right?”
You shrugged, shifting the basket in your hand. “Never had a reason to, I suppose. And it’s not exactly something you pick up living in the city.”
He made a low noise in his throat that could have been agreement. For a moment, the two of you walked in companionable silence, the sounds of the market buzzing around you—vendors calling out, the clip-clop of hooves, the soft rustle of autumn leaves underfoot.
“Wouldn’t take much to learn,” Logan said finally, his voice easy. “Reckon you’d be good at it.”
You shot him a skeptical glance. “How would you know?”
Logan gave a lazy shrug. “Just a guess.”
There was something in his tone, though—something soft and amused that made your cheeks warm. You glanced away, pretending to be very interested in a stall selling ribbons, though your attention kept drifting back to Logan.
“You know how to ride, then?” you asked after a moment, keeping your tone casual.
He nodded. “Yeah. Picked it up when I was a kid.”
You raised an eyebrow, curious despite yourself. “Where’d you grow up?”
“Here and there,” he answered vaguely, though not unkindly. You got the sense that there was a lot more to the story—things he wasn’t ready to share. And maybe things you weren’t quite ready to ask about. Not yet, anyway.
“Would you teach me?” you asked on impulse, surprising even yourself.
Logan glanced over, one brow raised, and for a moment, you thought he might laugh. But he didn’t. Instead, he gave a small nod, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Sure,” he said simply.
A smile tugged at your lips before you could stop it.
“When?” you pressed, feeling strangely excited by the idea.
Logan thought for a moment, his gaze drifting toward the road ahead. “Next Sunday,” he decided. “There’s a place just outside the city. I know a guy who’s got a couple of good horses.”
You felt a flicker of doubt—after all, you had responsibilities, and it wasn’t as though you could just abandon the children for the day. But Logan must have noticed your hesitation because he gave you a reassuring look.
“Bring the kids,” he offered. “They can run wild while you learn.”
That made you laugh softly. “You really think I can keep up with them and learn to ride a horse?”
Logan’s lips twitched. “I’ll handle the boys if they get out of hand.”
You gave him a skeptical look. “You don’t know what you’re offering.”
“I’ve handled worse,” Logan said with a grin that made your stomach do an odd little flip.
You opened your mouth to respond, but just then, a vendor called out, advertising fresh apples, and you were drawn toward the stall. Logan followed at a leisurely pace, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat.
You picked a couple of apples, inspecting them before adding them to your basket. As you handed a coin to the vendor, you glanced at Logan again.
“Next Sunday, then?” you asked, as if you still needed confirmation.
Logan gave a small nod. “Next Sunday.”
Something about the way he said it—calm and certain—made you believe it would actually happen. And for the first time in a long while, you found yourself looking forward to something.
---
The boys were already running rampant in the large field, their shouts of laughter echoing across the open space. You could see Edwin trying to race Phillip again, their legs kicking up dirt as they charged back and forth. Ada, ever the quiet one, sat nearby on a stack of hay, her doll in her lap, watching them with a little smile on her face.
You stood near the horses, feeling a flutter of nervous energy in your stomach. Logan was beside you, calm as always, holding the reins of a chestnut mare with an ease that made it all look far simpler than you knew it was. He glanced over at you, his dark eyes catching yours, and you could see the trace of a smirk tugging at his lips.
“You sure about this?” Logan asked, nodding toward the horse.
You swallowed, staring up at the mare. “Sure. How hard can it be?”
Logan gave a quiet laugh, clearly not convinced. “We’ll see.”
He held the reins steady, motioning for you to come closer. You did, taking a deep breath as you placed your hand on the saddle. The horse shifted slightly, and you jumped back a little, making Logan chuckle again.
“She’s not gonna bite,” he said, his voice low and amused.
“I know that,” you muttered, embarrassed but trying not to show it. “I just wasn’t ready.”
Logan gave a small shrug, stepping around to stand beside you. “C’mon. Foot in the stirrup. I’ll help you up.”
You hesitated for only a second before nodding. Grabbing hold of the saddle, you placed your foot in the stirrup just like he’d told you, and then you felt Logan’s hand on your waist, firm and steady. With one swift movement, he lifted you up onto the horse, and suddenly you were sitting much higher than you’d expected.
You gripped the reins tightly, your heart racing a little.
“There,” Logan said, standing back with his arms crossed. He looked up at you, giving a small nod of approval. “Not bad.”
You glanced down at him, a bit breathless. “I’m on the horse, but that doesn’t mean I can ride it.”
Logan smirked. “One step at a time, darlin’.”
He moved around to grab the reins, keeping his voice low and calm as he spoke to the mare, guiding her gently in a slow circle around the field. You held on, trying to keep yourself steady in the saddle. It wasn’t as hard as you thought it would be, but every time the horse took a step, you felt your stomach flip a little.
Logan kept walking beside you, close enough that you could hear him, though his voice was quiet. “You’re doin’ fine.”
“I feel ridiculous,” you muttered, glancing over at the boys to make sure they weren’t watching. Of course, they were, but they seemed more interested in their own games than in you wobbling around on a horse.
“You look fine,” Logan said, and there was something in his tone that made you glance at him sharply.
His eyes flickered up toward yours for just a moment, and you felt that familiar warmth in your cheeks again. You looked away quickly, trying to focus on staying upright.
“You’re just sayin’ that,” you said, trying to sound casual.
Logan chuckled. “No. If you looked ridiculous, I’d tell you.”
The confidence in his voice made you smile despite yourself. You loosened your grip on the reins just a little, letting yourself relax. The horse moved steadily beneath you, her pace slow and even, and after a few moments, you realized it wasn’t so bad after all.
“You ready to try it on your own?” Logan asked, his voice easy.
You blinked. “You think I’m ready?”
“Yeah.” He handed the reins over to you, stepping back a little. “Just keep her steady. She’s not gonna take off on you.”
You nodded, taking a deep breath and gripping the reins tightly as you urged the horse forward. She responded, moving into a gentle walk, and you felt a little thrill of pride. Logan walked beside you for a few more steps, watching, but then he stopped, folding his arms across his chest as he watched you guide the horse around the field on your own.
“You’re a natural,” he called out, a grin tugging at his lips.
You laughed softly, feeling a bit more confident now. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
As you circled back around toward him, you slowed the horse, bringing her to a stop in front of Logan. He looked up at you, his eyes warm and approving.
“Told ya,” he said. “Not so hard, is it?”
You shook your head, smiling. “Not as hard as I thought.”
Logan reached up, taking the reins from your hands. “C’mon. Let’s get you down.”
This part felt a little trickier, but Logan was there, steadying you as you swung your leg over the saddle and slid down. His hands were firm on your waist again, and for just a moment, you were standing close enough to catch the scent of leather and something else—something distinctly Logan.
“Thanks,” you said softly, looking up at him.
Logan’s eyes held yours for a long moment, something unreadable flickering in his gaze. Then he gave a small nod, stepping back.
“Anytime,” he said, his voice low.
Before you could say anything else, the boys came running over, breathless and wild from their playing. Edwin looked up at the horse, his eyes wide with excitement.
“Can I ride next?” he asked, practically bouncing on his toes.
You glanced at Logan, raising an eyebrow. “You said you’d handle them if they got out of hand, remember?”
Logan sighed, giving you a wry smile. “Yeah, I remember.”
He looked at Edwin, then nodded toward the horse. “Alright, kid. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
As Logan helped Edwin onto the horse, you stepped back, watching with a small smile. The sun was starting to dip lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over the field, and for a moment, everything felt peaceful. You glanced at Ada, who was still sitting on the haystack, her doll in her arms, watching the scene with quiet interest.
Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to let yourself enjoy moments like this.
As Logan guided Edwin around the field, you found yourself watching him more than the horse. There was something about the way he moved—strong, sure, like he belonged here, like he was more comfortable in this quiet, open space than anywhere else.
And as he turned, catching your eye for just a moment, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, he’d found something here worth staying for.
---
“You ever think about gettin’ outta the city?” Logan asked, his voice low. “Findin’ somewhere quieter?”
You glanced at him, a little surprised by the question. “I’ve thought about it. But… I’ve got responsibilities.”
Logan nodded slowly, his eyes distant as he stared out at the horizon. “Yeah. Responsibilities.”
The way he said it made you wonder if he was thinking about something—or someone—far away. You’d learned quickly that Logan wasn’t one to talk much about his past, and though you were curious, you didn’t push.
You turned a jar of honey over in your hand, Mr. Thomas had asked you to buy them another jar while you were out. “If I didn’t have responsibilities, I’d like to live out in a cabin, away from everything else. Sometimes things here are noisy. I’d just like to… I don’t know, exist without worryin’ about anything.”
Logan, standing beside you, his hands shoved in his pockets, gave a small grunt of agreement. "Sounds nice."
You glanced at him, curious. "You ever think about it? Leaving the city behind, finding a quiet spot somewhere?"
Logan paused for a moment, his gaze distant. "Yeah. Sometimes."
The simplicity of his answer hung in the air between you, and for a second, you wondered if he'd actually let himself think about settling down. It seemed unlikely, given how much he kept moving, but there was something in the way he said it, something almost wistful.
"You don't seem like the kind of guy who stays in one place for too long," you teased, shifting the basket in your hand as you handed the vendor a coin for the honey.
Logan shrugged, a small smirk playing at his lips. "Guess not."
You both fell into a comfortable silence as you continued walking through the market. The streets bustled with people, but somehow, with Logan by your side, it all felt a little less overwhelming. You didn't have to fill the quiet with pointless chatter. He wasn’t like the others in the city—constantly rushing, looking for something to gain. He just… existed, like you wanted to.
As you passed by a small stall selling flowers, you slowed down, your eyes catching on a bouquet of wildflowers that reminded you of something you'd see out in the countryside. Logan noticed, his eyes following your gaze.
"You like those?" he asked, nodding toward the flowers.
You smiled softly. "Yeah. They remind me of… I don’t know, freedom, I guess."
Logan gave a small chuckle. "Freedom, huh?"
You shrugged, suddenly feeling a little silly. "I know it sounds strange. It’s just… being stuck in the city all the time, I don’t get to see much of the world outside these streets."
He didn’t laugh or brush it off like most people would have. Instead, Logan looked at you for a moment, his expression serious.
"Maybe one day," he said quietly, "you’ll get that cabin. Find some peace."
There was something about the way he said it that made your heart skip a beat, but before you could respond, a commotion erupted a few stalls down. Edwin and Phillip came barreling toward you, laughing and out of breath, their hands full of something they clearly weren’t supposed to have.
"Y/N!" Edwin shouted, holding up a small sack of apples. "Look what we got!"
You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. "And how exactly did you 'get' those?"
Phillip, ever the quieter one, shifted nervously on his feet. "We didn’t steal them! Mr. Turner gave them to us after we helped him with his cart."
You glanced over to where Mr. Turner, a kind old man who often sold apples at the market, was smiling and waving in your direction.
"Alright," you said, sighing with relief. "But you’d better not be causing any trouble."
Logan chuckled under his breath, watching the boys with amusement. "They’re just having fun."
"Yeah, until someone gets hurt," you muttered, though you couldn’t help but smile at their excitement.
Edwin, noticing Logan for the first time, grinned. "Hey, Logan! You ever been in a real fight?"
Logan smirked, glancing at you before turning back to the boys. "A couple."
Edwin’s eyes lit up. "Tell us about one!"
"Edwin," you warned, shaking your head. "Logan doesn’t have time to tell you all his stories."
But Logan didn’t seem to mind. He crouched down to the boys’ level, his expression serious as he spoke in that low, gravelly voice of his.
"Alright, but just one. There was this guy… big, tough-looking fella, thought he could take me down. We were out in the middle of nowhere, no one around for miles. He comes at me with this huge stick, thinking that’ll be enough."
Edwin and Phillip leaned in, wide-eyed, hanging on every word.
"So, what happened?" Edwin asked, barely able to contain himself.
Logan’s smirk deepened. "Let’s just say, he learned real quick not to mess with me."
The boys erupted into laughter, completely captivated by the idea of Logan taking down some big, burly guy.
You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the smile creeping onto your face. "You’re gonna give them ideas, you know."
Logan stood, shrugging casually. "Kids need a little excitement."
"Not too much," you muttered, though you were grateful for the way he interacted with them. Most men in the city didn’t have the patience for children, especially not boys as wild as Edwin and Phillip.
As the boys ran off again, Logan glanced over at you, his expression softening just a bit.
"They look up to you," he said quietly.
You looked down, shrugging. "They’re good kids. Just need someone to look after them."
Logan was quiet for a moment, watching the boys as they disappeared into the crowd. Then, almost as if the thought had just occurred to him, he turned back to you.
"You ever think about having your own?" he asked, his tone surprisingly gentle.
The question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. You hadn’t really thought about it—not seriously, anyway. Your life was too full of other people’s children, other people’s problems.
"I don’t know," you said slowly, glancing up at him. "Maybe someday. If I ever get that cabin, I might think about it."
Logan nodded, but didn’t say anything more. He just walked beside you, the two of you falling back into that easy, comfortable silence.
It wasn’t until later, as you lay in bed that night, that you found yourself thinking about his question again. The idea of a quiet life, away from the noise and chaos of the city, didn’t seem so impossible anymore—not when you imagined Logan there with you.
---
One night, after you had put the boys to sleep and were in Ada’s room to read a story to her, she asked you a question. “Why aren’t you like mama and papa?”
You raised your head from the book you were reading to her, “what do you mean?”
Her lips formed a small pout, “mama has papa, but you don’t have anyone.”
You blinked, caught off guard by Ada’s question. Her innocent curiosity made your heart ache, but you kept your voice steady.
“Well, sweetie,” you started, trying to find the right words, “sometimes, people are just on their own for a little while. It doesn’t mean they won’t find someone. Maybe they just haven’t yet.”
Ada considered this, her small brow furrowed in thought. “But you’re so nice. Why doesn’t anyone love you?”
The simplicity of the question stung more than it should have. You chuckled softly, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “It’s not that simple, Ada. But thank you for saying that.”
She didn’t seem satisfied with your answer, her tiny face still scrunched up in confusion. “Don’t you get lonely?”
You hesitated, glancing out the window at the darkening sky. The truth was, sometimes you did. Even though you were surrounded by people—taking care of the children, managing the house—you couldn’t deny that feeling creeping in every now and then.
“I have you, don’t I?” you finally said, smiling down at her. “And Edwin and Phillip. You three keep me pretty busy.”
Ada giggled softly at that, settling into her blankets. “I guess. But I think you should find someone, like mama did.”
You gave her a light kiss on the forehead, smoothing down her hair. “Maybe one day, kiddo.”
Ada yawned, her eyes drooping as sleep crept up on her. “Goodnight, Y/N.”
“Goodnight, Ada,” you whispered, watching her drift off. You stayed there for a moment longer, thinking about her words, before quietly slipping out of the room.
The house was silent as you made your way down the hall, but your mind was anything but. Her innocent question stirred something inside of you, a longing that you hadn’t let yourself fully acknowledge. It wasn’t like you to dwell on what you didn’t have, but maybe… maybe Ada was right. Maybe there was something missing.
But it wasn’t something you could focus on right now. You had responsibilities. This family depended on you, and that was enough for now. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.
As you reached your room and closed the door behind you, you caught sight of the bouquet of wildflowers Logan had quietly bought earlier in the day. You hadn’t noticed him purchase them at the market, but when you returned to the house, they were there on the doorstep, a small note attached that simply read, Thought you’d like these.
You smiled to yourself, gently picking up the flowers and placing them in a vase by the window. You hadn’t thought much about having someone of your own, but as you looked at the flowers, you couldn’t help but wonder what it might be like.
And, for the first time in a long while, the idea didn’t seem so far away.
---
The next few days passed quietly, with Logan visiting you at the market more frequently, though neither of you mentioned the wildflowers. There was an unspoken understanding between you—neither of you rushed things, but the connection was undeniably growing.
One afternoon, as you sat outside with Ada on your lap, reading her a story, Logan appeared at the gate. The children spotted him first, of course, and Edwin ran over, grinning ear to ear.
“Logan! You’re back!” he shouted, tugging at Logan’s coat. “Did you bring us any stories?”
Logan gave a soft grunt, glancing over at you with a smirk. “I might have one or two left.”
You shook your head, amused. “They’ll never leave you alone if you keep telling them stories, you know.”
Logan crouched down, ruffling Edwin’s hair. “I don’t mind,” he said, his gaze softening as he glanced at Ada in your lap. “How’re you doin’, kid?”
Ada looked up from the book and smiled shyly, giving him a small wave. “Hi, Logan.”
He smiled, the sight of the children always easing something in him, though he didn’t let it show too much.
As the kids ran off to play, Logan took a seat beside you on the bench. The two of you sat in silence for a while, watching the children chase each other across the yard.
“They’re good kids,” Logan said finally, breaking the quiet.
“They are,” you agreed. “They’ve got a lot of love to give, and not always enough people around to give it to.”
Logan turned his head slightly, his eyes studying you. “That include you?”
You looked down, fidgeting with your skirt. “Maybe. I spend so much time looking after everyone else, sometimes I forget there’s more to life than just… this.”
Logan didn’t say anything at first, just watched you quietly. Then, his voice low, he asked, “You ever think about finding something more?”
You turned to him, surprised by the question. “I don’t know if I’ve let myself think that far ahead,” you admitted, your heart beating a little faster under his gaze.
Logan looked away, his jaw tightening slightly as if he was holding something back. “Maybe you should.”
The weight of his words lingered in the air between you, and for the first time, you felt a pull—a possibility of something beyond the life you’d built here. Something you hadn’t allowed yourself to dream about until now.
But before either of you could say more, the children’s laughter echoed through the yard, and the moment passed. Still, the feeling stayed with you long after Logan left that evening.
---
The sky had taken on that soft orange hue of evening, the kind that made the whole world feel suspended between day and night. You and Logan walked side by side along the Hudson River, the sound of water gently lapping against the shore mixing with the distant hum of the city. It had become your routine over the past few weeks, these evening walks—quiet, almost intimate, even though neither of you said much.
Today, though, something felt different. Logan had been quieter than usual, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his usual gruff demeanor softened by the fading sunlight. Every now and then, you’d catch him glancing at you from the corner of his eye, as if there was something he wanted to say but couldn’t find the words.
“You alright?” you asked, your voice cutting through the comfortable silence.
Logan nodded, though his expression didn’t quite match the motion. “Yeah, just… thinkin’.”
“About?”
He stopped walking, turning to face the river. You followed his gaze, watching the way the sun’s reflection danced on the surface of the water. After a long moment, he spoke.
“I’ve never really… had this before,” he said, his voice low, almost hesitant. “Y’know, just… bein’ with someone like this. Feels kinda strange.”
You smiled softly, stepping closer to him, close enough that your arm brushed against his. “Strange in a good way?”
Logan let out a short, almost nervous chuckle. “Yeah. In a good way.”
The two of you stood there, side by side, watching the sun dip lower in the sky. You could feel the warmth of his presence, his arm just barely touching yours, and it sent a small thrill through you. You hadn’t been sure at first if what you felt for Logan was mutual—he was quiet, reserved, hard to read—but moments like this, when the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you, made it clear. There was something unspoken between you, something neither of you had dared to put into words.
After a while, you turned to face him, studying the way his brow was furrowed, like he was deep in thought.
“Logan,” you said softly.
He looked at you then, really looked at you, his hazel eyes meeting yours with a kind of intensity that made your heart skip a beat. For a moment, neither of you moved, the air thick with something unsaid.
Before you could second-guess yourself, you reached out and took his hand, your fingers slipping into his. Logan stiffened at the touch, his eyes flicking down to where your hands were joined, but he didn’t pull away. If anything, he stepped closer, his fingers curling around yours, holding on a little tighter.
“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way before either,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.
Logan’s gaze softened, his usual guarded expression cracking just enough to let something more vulnerable show through. He hesitated, like he was trying to find the right words, but then decided words weren’t necessary.
Instead, he took a small step forward, his free hand coming up to gently cup the side of your face. His touch was warm, rough, but there was a surprising tenderness in the way his thumb brushed lightly against your cheek. You held your breath, your heart pounding in your chest as he leaned in, his eyes flicking between yours as if asking for permission.
When you didn’t pull away, he closed the distance.
The kiss was soft, almost tentative at first, like he was testing the waters. But the second your lips met his, something inside you seemed to melt, and you leaned into him, deepening the kiss. Logan responded in kind, his grip on your hand tightening as he pulled you closer, the space between you disappearing entirely.
For a moment, it was just the two of you—the sound of the river fading away, the world narrowing down to the warmth of Logan’s lips against yours, the feel of his hand cradling your face like you were something precious.
When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathing a little heavier, your foreheads resting against each other as you stood there, wrapped in the soft glow of the setting sun.
Logan’s eyes fluttered open, and he gave you a small, almost sheepish smile. “Didn’t think I’d be kissin’ you tonight.”
You laughed softly, still a little breathless. “Neither did I.”
He pulled you closer, resting his chin on top of your head as he held you against him. The two of you stood there in the fading light, wrapped up in each other, the world beyond the river momentarily forgotten.
---
Logan thought back to your conversation about living in a cabin more than he cared to admit. The thought of it seemed nice, peaceful, and dare he say it perfect.
After a few weeks of being together, Logan had made a decision and scrounged up any money he could before buying a modest ring from a jeweler. He wasn’t going to propose yet but carrying the ring in his pocket felt right.
He had been coming over to the Thomases’ sprawling estate more often, whether it was walking with you from the market to the large house or even just stopping by of his own will. At first, it had been an occasional thing—a quiet visit here, a quick walk there—but lately, Logan found himself looking for excuses just to be around. You didn’t seem to mind. In fact, the way your eyes lit up when you saw him made him feel something unfamiliar, something good.
One late afternoon, Logan leaned against the garden gate, watching as you knelt by a row of flowers, tending to them with your usual care. He couldn’t help but admire the sight—your sleeves rolled up, hair slightly tousled from the breeze, a small smile on your lips as you worked. It made something in his chest tighten. He fingered the ring in his pocket, feeling its weight. He had no plan to use it anytime soon, but carrying it felt right, like a promise to himself.
You glanced up, catching his eye, and smiled, wiping your hands on your apron as you stood. "Back again, Logan?"
"Guess so," he replied, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Thought you might need a hand."
"Well, I could always use one," you teased, stepping closer to him. "But you don’t strike me as the gardening type."
Logan chuckled, reaching out to take your hand, pulling you a little closer. "Not much of a gardener, no. But I can stand here and look good while you do all the work."
You rolled your eyes playfully but didn’t let go of his hand. The easy banter between you had become natural, and the affection between you had grown, unspoken but undeniable. After a moment, you tugged him toward a bench under a nearby tree.
“Sit with me for a minute,” you said softly. “I’ve been out here all day.”
He followed, sitting beside you as the evening breeze rustled the leaves above. The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching the shadows lengthen as the sun began to set. Logan glanced at you from the corner of his eye, the warm light catching the curve of your face.
“You ever think this is enough?” he asked suddenly, his voice quiet but clear.
You looked over at him, eyebrows raised. “What do you mean?”
Logan hesitated, his fingers still laced with yours. “Just… this. Bein’ together. Doesn’t need to be more complicated than that.”
You smiled softly, leaning your head against his shoulder. “I think it is enough,” you said after a moment. “I like this, Logan. I like us.”
His heart beat a little faster at your words, and without thinking, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. It wasn’t a big gesture, but it felt natural, like something he’d been wanting to do for a while. You tilted your head up, meeting his eyes, your lips curving into a gentle smile.
“You keep that up, and I’m never gonna let you go,” you teased, though there was something softer, almost serious, in your tone.
Logan smirked, pulling you closer until your legs brushed against his. “Don’t see a reason to.”
Your fingers traced absent patterns on the back of his hand, your touch light and thoughtful. “You know, I used to wonder if I’d ever feel this way about someone,” you admitted softly, your eyes focused on your hands. “If I’d ever meet someone who made me feel… like this.”
Logan was quiet for a moment, watching you, feeling the warmth of your words settle deep inside him. He’d never thought he’d find someone who made him feel like this either—like he didn’t have to keep moving, like maybe he’d found something worth staying for. He wanted to tell you that, to say what he was feeling, but the words stuck in his throat. So instead, he squeezed your hand, hoping you’d understand what he couldn’t say yet.
You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. The connection between you, the pull, was undeniable. Logan leaned in, his hand slipping to the back of your neck as he pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was slow, tender, like both of you were taking your time, savoring the moment. When you pulled back, your forehead rested against his, and for a second, the world outside the garden didn’t exist.
“I could stay like this forever,” you whispered, your breath warm against his lips.
Logan’s hand tightened on yours. “Maybe we will,” he murmured back, the words slipping out before he could stop them.
You smiled, your eyes soft as you leaned in and kissed him again, slow and sweet. When you pulled back this time, you didn’t say anything, just settled into his side, your head resting against his chest as the two of you watched the sky shift into shades of pink and orange.
The world outside may have been complicated, full of responsibilities and noise, but here, with Logan beside you, it felt simple. Peaceful. Like this was all that mattered.
---
One late afternoon, you were sitting on the porch with Ada and the boys, telling them stories while they played at your feet. Logan leaned against the fence, watching you from a distance, his heart swelling at the sight of you surrounded by the children, laughing and carefree.
“You look like you’re thinkin’ about somethin’ serious,” your voice cut through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. You stood up, walking over to him, a teasing smile on your face.
Logan shrugged, trying to play it off. “Just thinkin’ about how you handle those kids like it’s nothin’.”
You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Trust me, it’s something. They’re a handful.”
Logan smiled, reaching out to take your hand. “You’re good at it. I like watchin’ you with them.”
Your cheeks flushed slightly at his compliment, and you glanced down, trying to hide the small smile playing at your lips. “Well, you’re not so bad with them yourself. Edwin won’t stop talking about that story you told him.”
Logan chuckled, shaking his head. “Kid’s got a wild imagination.”
You leaned in closer, your fingers playing with the hem of his sleeve. “Maybe he gets that from you.”
He smirked, slipping his arm around your waist and pulling you into him. “Think so?”
“I know so,” you whispered, your breath brushing against his neck.
For a moment, the world around you seemed to fade away, and it was just the two of you, standing in the soft glow of the afternoon sun. Logan’s hand slid up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin before he leaned down and kissed you, slow and deliberate, like he was memorizing the feel of your lips against his.
When he pulled back, your eyes were half-closed, your expression soft and content. “Logan,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “What are we doing?”
He looked at you, his thumb still tracing soft circles on your cheek. “Doin’ what feels right.”
You smiled, resting your forehead against his. “Yeah. It does feel right.”
The sound of the children’s laughter broke the quiet moment between you, and you both turned to see Ada running toward you, her little legs carrying her as fast as they could. “Y/N! Y/N!” she shouted, her face flushed with excitement. “Come play with us!”
You laughed, pulling away from Logan just enough to crouch down and catch Ada in your arms. “Alright, alright! I’m coming.”
As you stood, you glanced back at Logan, your eyes lingering on him for a moment longer. He gave you a small nod, his lips quirking into a smile, and you turned back to the children, running off with them into the yard.
Logan watched you for a while longer, his hand slipping into his pocket where the small ring rested. It wasn’t time yet, but someday, maybe he’d ask. Someday, when the moment was right.
For now, this was enough.
And for the first time in his life, that was all Logan wanted.
---
“Mrs. Thomas is sick. She wanted me to pick up some things for her before the doctor comes to check her out,” you explained, adding a sprig of thyme to your basket and handing the vendor a coin.
Logan stood beside you, hands stuffed in his pockets, watching you with a casual ease that had become second nature to him. “What’s wrong with her?” he asked, though his tone wasn’t heavy—just curious.
You shrugged, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Probably just a cold. She’s been coughing a bit, but Mr. Thomas thinks she’ll be fine.”
Logan’s jaw ticked slightly, his eyes following the movement of your hand as it tucked the hair behind your ear. “You sure you should be around her if she’s sick?”
You smiled at his concern, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “It’s part of the job, Logan. Besides, I’ve been with her every day. If I was going to get sick, it would’ve happened by now.”
He frowned, not entirely convinced, but let it drop. You were stubborn like that—always brushing things off when they concerned you.
As you moved from stall to stall, picking out fresh herbs, bread, and tea, Logan trailed beside you, a silent presence at your side. It was comfortable—natural, even. You could feel him close, his arm brushing yours now and then, and though neither of you said much, it was the kind of quiet that felt good.
When you handed the grocer a coin for a small loaf of bread, Logan’s voice broke the easy silence. “You want me to walk you back?”
You glanced up at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Trying to sneak more time with me?”
Logan grinned, his hands still tucked in his coat pockets. “Maybe.”
Your laugh was soft and warm, and Logan swore it was one of his favorite sounds.
“You don’t have to, but I won’t say no if you want to,” you teased, shifting the basket on your hip. “The Thomases live all the way across town, though.”
Logan rolled his shoulders in a lazy shrug. “Don’t mind.”
With that settled, the two of you set off toward the Thomases’ estate, falling into step beside each other. The streets bustled with the usual afternoon crowds—vendors hawking their goods, carts rattling down cobbled roads, children darting through the streets. Yet somehow, it felt like the two of you existed in your own little world, insulated from the noise of the city.
“You been working much?” you asked after a moment, glancing sideways at him.
Logan nodded. “Yeah. Couple of odd jobs here and there.”
“Same ones?”
“Mostly.” He paused, as if debating whether to say more. Then, with a smirk, he added, “Not much call for a guy like me who’s no good with flowers.”
You laughed, the sound light and easy. “Well, I’m sure someone will take pity on you eventually.”
He bumped his shoulder against yours gently. “You already did.”
You rolled your eyes, but the smile stayed on your face. “Lucky you.”
The walk was long, but neither of you minded. You pointed out things along the way—shops you liked, shortcuts you’d found, little bits of the city you’d come to know well in your time working for the Thomases. Logan listened, his attention fixed on you, and though he didn’t say much, you could tell he was soaking up every word.
When the two of you reached the tall iron gates of the Thomases' estate, you hesitated, lingering just a bit longer with Logan at the edge of the garden.
“Thanks for walking me,” you said softly, your fingers brushing over his for the briefest second.
“Anytime,” he murmured, catching your hand before you could pull it away. He gave it a squeeze, his eyes lingering on yours. “You alright?”
You nodded. “I’m fine, Logan. Just worried about Mrs. Thomas, I guess.”
He studied you for a beat longer, his thumb absentmindedly brushing the back of your hand. “You’ll let me know if you need anything, yeah?”
You gave him a small smile, squeezing his hand in return. “Yeah. I will.”
Neither of you moved at first, as if caught in a moment you weren’t quite ready to let go of. Logan’s gaze flickered to your lips, and for a second, you thought he might kiss you—right there at the gate, with the late afternoon sun warming your skin and the scent of lavender drifting from the garden.
But instead, he leaned in and pressed a slow kiss to your temple, his lips lingering just long enough to leave you breathless.
“See you soon,” he murmured against your skin.
You swallowed, your heart thudding in your chest. “See you soon,” you whispered back.
Logan stepped away, his hands reluctantly slipping from yours, and you watched as he made his way back down the path. He didn’t look back, but somehow, you knew that he felt the same pull you did—the one that always seemed to draw you closer, no matter how far apart you were.
With a soft sigh, you turned and pushed open the gate, your basket swinging gently at your side as you made your way toward the house. The sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the neatly trimmed lawn.
You didn’t know it yet, but the weight of that moment—of Logan’s hand in yours, of the way his kiss had felt against your skin—would stay with you. It would become one of those memories you’d carry in the quiet hours, long after everything had changed.
But for now, it was just another afternoon. And that was enough.
You slipped inside the Thomases’ estate, greeted by the familiar smell of baked bread and lavender from the garden. The children’s laughter echoed faintly from upstairs, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the unease you felt about Mrs. Thomas.
As you moved through the grand hallway, the weight of Logan’s lingering kiss on your temple stayed with you, soft and comforting. His presence, though absent now, always seemed to cling to the air around you like the warmth of a hearth after a long day.
“Y/N!” Edwin’s voice called from the top of the stairs. You looked up to find him peering down at you, his unruly curls falling into his eyes. “Can we go to the park after tea? Phillip says he can run faster than me, but I bet I’ll beat him this time.”
You smiled up at him, though your thoughts were still on Mrs. Thomas. “We’ll see about that, Edwin. But let’s check in on your mother first, alright?”
He nodded, though his face fell a little, understanding the importance of that moment.
Making your way to Mrs. Thomas’s room, you found the air heavier, a staleness clinging to it that made you pause at the door. You knocked softly before entering, the creak of the door barely disturbing the quiet. Mrs. Thomas lay in bed, propped up by pillows, her face pale and drawn. Her once vibrant eyes were duller now, and the small cough you had heard earlier seemed more persistent, rattling in her chest.
“Mrs. Thomas,” you said gently, approaching her bedside with the basket of fresh supplies. “I’ve brought some thyme and tea. The doctor will be here later this week.”
Mrs. Thomas offered a faint smile, though it barely touched her lips. “Thank you, dear. You’re always so thoughtful,” she said, her voice raspy. She shifted slightly, wincing at the effort it took. “I’m sure it’s just a little cold.”
You forced a smile, though something inside you tugged with worry. “Of course. Just a little cold.”
After a few more moments, you excused yourself, promising to return later. The house felt stifling, the sense of something being wrong making your chest tighten. Logan had been right to be concerned. But you brushed it aside, focusing on the children.
A few hours later, after Edwin had indeed beaten Phillip in a race through the park, and Ada had insisted on collecting wildflowers for her mother, the three children were settled with tea. You were cleaning up the kitchen when a familiar knock came at the back door.
Opening it, you found Logan leaning against the frame, that easy smile already softening the tension in your shoulders.
“Thought you might like some company,” he said, stepping inside and pulling you into a gentle embrace. The warmth of his arms around you instantly melted away the weight of the afternoon, and for a moment, you simply leaned into him, breathing him in.
“Good timing,” you murmured into his chest. “The kids are winding down for the night. Edwin’s convinced he’s going to be the fastest man in the world.”
Logan chuckled, his chest vibrating against your cheek. “Is that so? Guess I’ll have to challenge him one day.”
You smiled, pulling back slightly to look up at him. “He’d love that.”
There was a beat of quiet as Logan’s hand came up to brush a stray hair from your face, his thumb lingering just under your jaw. His gaze softened, searching yours for something. It was moments like this—small, tender—that reminded you just how much you’d come to care for him in these past few weeks.
“You alright?” he asked, voice low.
You hesitated, then nodded. “Just… worried about Mrs. Thomas. I don’t know, Logan, she seems worse than she’s letting on.”
Logan’s brow furrowed, his hands slipping down to rest on your waist. “She’s tough, right? She’ll pull through.”
You nodded again, though the doubt lingered. “I hope so.”
Logan leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours, the weight of his presence anchoring you. “You’ll let me know if you need anything?”
“I will,” you whispered, your hands resting on his chest.
He pulled back just enough to catch your lips in a slow, gentle kiss. It was familiar, the way his mouth moved against yours—steady, comforting, with that undercurrent of longing that always seemed to simmer just beneath the surface between you two. When you finally parted, his thumb brushed your cheek, his gaze still locked on yours.
“I hate leaving you here,” he murmured, the frustration clear in his voice. “Especially with her sick.”
You smiled softly, shaking your head. “I’ll be fine, Logan. Go home, get some rest.”
He gave a small grunt, clearly not thrilled with the idea of leaving, but he knew better than to argue when you got like this—determined and stubborn.
With a sigh, he leaned in once more, pressing a final kiss to your forehead before stepping back. “Alright. But I’m checking in tomorrow, whether you like it or not.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” you teased, though the warmth in your chest grew at his protectiveness.
Logan gave you one last smile before turning to head back out into the night, his coat swaying as he disappeared into the shadows. You watched him go, the familiar tug in your chest pulling at you again, but this time it wasn’t just affection. It was worry—a gnawing sense of unease that had been creeping in since that afternoon in the market.
You stood there at the back door for a moment longer, staring into the empty street, wondering if Logan could feel it too—the quiet, unspoken fear that something was about to change.
---
The next few days passed quietly, the routine of the Thomases’ household carrying on as usual—though the coughs from Mrs. Thomas’s room seemed to grow more frequent, more strained. You tried not to think too much of it, telling yourself it was only a cold, that the doctor would sort it out when he came to visit. But there was a part of you, small but insistent, that couldn’t shake the unease gnawing at your thoughts.
The children kept you busy, of course. Edwin was endlessly energetic, challenging Phillip to races and daring Ada to climb the low trees in the garden, much to your chagrin. Ada, sweet and delicate, clung to your side like a shadow, her small hand often finding yours as she babbled on about her imaginary tea parties and grand adventures. In their presence, it was easy to forget the worry in the back of your mind—at least for a little while.
But then, in the quiet moments—like when you helped Mrs. Thomas to her bed after one of her coughing fits, or when the house seemed far too still after the children had fallen asleep—your thoughts would drift back to Logan. To the way he had kissed your forehead that day at the back door, how his hand had lingered in yours just a second longer than usual, as if he’d sensed it too. That something was wrong.
You found yourself waiting for him. Every evening, as the sun dipped low over the city and the shadows lengthened in the streets, you listened for that familiar knock at the back door. And every evening, without fail, he would come—never too late, never too early, always arriving when you needed him most.
Tonight was no different.
You were sitting at the small table in the kitchen, a pot of tea cooling beside you, when the soft knock came. A smile tugged at your lips before you could stop it, your heart lifting in that familiar way as you crossed the room and opened the door.
Logan stood there, his dark hair slightly tousled from the evening breeze, his expression soft but watchful. He gave you that crooked smile that always seemed to make everything feel lighter, as if the world wasn’t such a heavy place when he was around.
“Thought I might find you here,” he said, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.
You shrugged, the smile still playing on your lips. “Where else would I be?”
He chuckled, moving to lean against the counter, his eyes flicking briefly to the teapot on the table. “You drinking alone?”
“For now,” you teased, pouring him a cup. “But I suppose I can share.”
Logan took the cup from you, his fingers brushing yours in that familiar way, sending a small, warm spark through your skin. He didn’t move to sit, though. Instead, he stayed close, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than usual, as if trying to read something in your face.
“What?” you asked softly, the weight of his stare making your heart flutter.
“Just checking in,” he said, his voice lower, more serious than before. “You look tired.”
You gave a small, weary laugh, shaking your head. “I’m fine, Logan. Just a lot on my mind.”
“Mrs. Thomas?” he guessed, sipping his tea.
You nodded, glancing at the floor. “She’s getting worse. I’m trying not to worry, but… I don’t know, something doesn’t feel right.”
Logan’s brow furrowed, and he set his cup down, moving to stand beside you. His hand came up to rest on your shoulder, his thumb brushing lightly against the fabric of your sleeve. “If you need me to do anything—get more medicine, fetch the doctor sooner—you just say the word.”
You met his gaze, your chest tightening at the concern etched into his face. He always made you feel safe, even when you didn’t want to admit how scared you were. You reached up, covering his hand with yours, squeezing it gently.
“I know,” you murmured. “Thank you.”
For a moment, the room was quiet again, the sounds of the city muted by the walls of the house. You could hear the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth, the distant hum of life outside, but here, in this small space, it felt like it was just the two of you. Just the two of you, and the warmth of his hand on your shoulder.
Logan shifted slightly, turning to face you more fully, his other hand coming to rest at your waist. He tugged you closer, his expression softening as he leaned in, his lips brushing your forehead in that tender way that always made your heart skip. But this time, he didn’t stop there. He tilted your chin up gently, his gaze flicking briefly to your lips before meeting your eyes again.
“C’mere,” he whispered, and you didn’t need any more coaxing.
Your arms slid up around his neck, pulling him in as his lips met yours in a slow, deliberate kiss. It was soft at first, tender, but there was a quiet intensity behind it, a sense of urgency you hadn’t felt before. Maybe it was the weight of the unspoken worry hanging between you, or maybe it was just that every time you kissed him, it felt like it could be the last. Either way, you melted into him, savoring the warmth of his mouth against yours, the way his hands tightened around your waist as if he didn’t want to let you go.
When you finally pulled back, your breath mingling with his, Logan rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as he let out a long, slow sigh.
“Stay with me tonight,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. You hadn’t meant to say it, but the words tumbled out before you could stop them. The thought of being alone with your worries, of facing the uncertainty of Mrs. Thomas’s illness by yourself, suddenly felt unbearable.
Logan’s eyes opened, his gaze soft but searching as he studied your face. “You sure?”
You nodded, your hands still resting at the nape of his neck. “I just… I don’t want to be alone.”
He didn’t hesitate after that. With a soft, reassuring smile, he nodded and pressed another kiss to your temple. “Alright. I’m here.”
---
The doctor had come by some days later bringing by news, Mrs. Thomas had tuberculosis. He gave her at least another month to live.
Mr. Thomas had instructed you to not let the kids near her as often, to make sure they don’t get sick. He didn’t seem to care much about Logan spending the night with you, or letting the kids be around him.
Logan had been spending more nights with you, by your request. It wasn’t something you talked about, just a quiet understanding between the two of you. The nights felt warmer with him beside you, the weight of the world a little lighter when you could lean against him. He never made a big deal out of it either. It was just...natural.
Tonight was no different. You sat by the fire in the small parlor, the children long since asleep upstairs. The flicker of the flames cast shadows across the room, and you caught yourself glancing toward the door, waiting for that familiar knock.
When it came, it was soft, almost hesitant. But you smiled, already rising to your feet to let him in. Logan stepped inside, brushing off the chill of the night as he shook the snow from his coat.
“Snow’s picking up out there,” he muttered, shrugging off the heavy coat and hanging it by the door. “Thought I’d get here before it got too bad.”
You nodded, wrapping your arms around yourself as you watched him. “I’m glad you did.”
He crossed the room, and without another word, his arms wrapped around you. You melted into his chest, resting your head against him as the fire crackled in the hearth. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his hand running down your back.
“You alright?” he asked quietly, his voice low. “You’ve been quiet lately.”
You sighed, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “I’m fine. Just tired. It’s… everything with Mrs. Thomas, the kids… I’m trying to keep it together.”
Logan frowned, his hands tightening slightly on your waist. “You don’t have to do it all yourself. You know that, right?”
“I know,” you said softly. “But I feel like I have to.”
“You don’t,” he repeated, his eyes searching yours. “I’m here.”
That simple statement hit you harder than you expected. You leaned up, pressing your lips to his in a soft, lingering kiss. He responded instantly, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, deepening the kiss as if he needed it as much as you did. It was slow and tender, and you found yourself pulling him closer, trying to forget the weight of everything else, if only for a moment.
When you finally pulled back, Logan rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your lips.
“You should sleep,” he whispered. “You’re exhausted.”
“Will you stay?” you asked, your voice small.
“Always,” he said without hesitation.
---
The nights blurred together. Logan was there more often than not, sometimes waiting for you when you finished putting the children to bed, other times arriving late after a day spent working. You hadn’t asked where he went during the day, and he hadn’t volunteered the information. It didn’t matter. When he was with you, everything else seemed to fade into the background.
The children, especially Ada, had continued asking why she couldn’t see her mother as often. It had broke your heart to tell her and the boys that their mom was sick, not going any further than that.
“They’ll understand one day,” Logan had said, trying to comfort you as you sat by the fire one evening. His arm was around your shoulders, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm.
You nodded, but the heaviness in your chest wouldn’t lift.
“I just want to help,” you murmured. “But I can’t.”
Logan was silent for a moment before he spoke again, his voice low. “You’re doing more than you think, Y/N. Just being here for the kids, for her... it matters.”
You looked up at him, your eyes searching his. There was something in the way he looked at you, something deeper than the usual concern. It was a look that made your heart skip, that made you realize just how much he had become a part of your life in such a short time.
He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before brushing his lips against yours in a slow, gentle kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, needing that connection, needing him.
When you finally pulled back, you rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Logan’s hand slid up to cradle the back of your head, his touch soothing.
“I’m here,” he whispered again, as if the words alone could make everything right.
And for a moment, they did.
---
You could tell that after a month and a half, Mrs. Thomas didn’t have much time left. Maybe a week at the most. She was so young, barely 30 years old, and already having to face the inevitable. Her coughing had become more violent, her body thinner with each passing day, and the sparkle in her eyes was gone. She was fading right before your eyes.
It had been a long day. The kids were more restless than usual, likely sensing the shift in the household. You’d spent most of the afternoon calming Edwin and Ada while trying to keep Phillip out of trouble. Ada, in particular, had been clingy, holding onto your skirt as you moved about the house, asking you why her mother wasn’t coming out of her room anymore.
You gave her the same answer as always. “Your mama’s just resting, sweetheart.”
But even she seemed to sense something was off.
By the time the sun had started to set, you felt the exhaustion in your bones. You barely touched your dinner, pushing food around your plate before giving up entirely. It wasn’t just the physical tiredness, though. It was something deeper. A strange ache in your chest, one you couldn’t quite explain. Maybe it was the weight of everything—Mrs. Thomas’s worsening condition, the children, Logan...
You hadn’t seen him tonight, and that small part of you that had grown used to his presence felt the void acutely. He had a way of grounding you, of making everything seem less overwhelming, if only for a little while. You didn’t want to admit it, but you were beginning to rely on him more and more.
As you climbed the stairs to check on the children, your steps felt heavier than usual. Fatigue, you told yourself. Just fatigue.
When you entered Mrs. Thomas’s room to help her settle for the night, she gave you a weak smile. “Thank you, Y/N... for everything.”
You smiled back, brushing her hair away from her face as you helped her lie down. “Don’t mention it. You just rest.”
Her breathing was shallow, the sound rattling in her chest. You tried not to let it show on your face, but inside, that gnawing worry had grown into a full-fledged fear. You knew the end was coming soon. You just hoped the children wouldn’t have to watch her fade.
---
Later that night, after the house had fallen quiet and the children were asleep, you sat by the small fire in the kitchen. You stared at the flickering flames, trying to let the warmth chase away the chill in your bones, but it wasn’t working.
You weren’t surprised when you heard the soft knock at the back door. Logan’s timing had always been impeccable, showing up when you needed him most, even if you hadn’t called for him. You rose from your seat and opened the door, letting him in with a small, tired smile.
“Cold out there,” he muttered, brushing the snow from his shoulders before stepping inside. He took one look at your face, and his brows furrowed. “You look exhausted, Y/N.”
You waved him off, shutting the door behind him. “It’s been a long day. Mrs. Thomas is...”
He didn’t need you to finish. He’d been coming by enough to know how bad things had gotten.
Logan crossed the small space between you and placed a hand on your arm. “You should be resting too. When’s the last time you got a full night’s sleep?”
You let out a tired laugh, shaking your head. “What is that again?”
“Y/N,” he said, his tone a mix of teasing and concern. “You can’t keep running yourself ragged. You’re no good to the kids if you get sick.”
His words hit a little too close to home. That lingering ache in your chest hadn’t gone away, and now, with him standing so close, it seemed to press harder, making it difficult to breathe. You ignored it, trying to focus on his warm hand still resting on your arm, grounding you.
“I’ll be fine,” you said quietly, leaning against him just slightly. “I just... I need you here. That’s all.”
Logan’s expression softened, and he slipped his arms around you, pulling you close. You rested your head against his chest, closing your eyes as his warmth enveloped you. It felt like everything else faded away when you were in his arms—like the weight of the world wasn’t quite so heavy.
“I’m here,” he murmured into your hair, his voice low. “I’m not going anywhere.”
You stayed like that for a moment, just holding onto him, letting his presence soothe the anxiety that had been gnawing at you all day. His hands ran up and down your back in slow, soothing motions, and you found yourself relaxing, your shoulders sagging as the tension melted away.
But that ache in your chest didn’t fade. If anything, it seemed to settle deeper, a dull, persistent throb that you couldn’t quite shake.
“I don’t know how much longer she has,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Maybe a week. And the kids... I don’t know how to explain it to them.”
Logan sighed, his breath warm against your hair. “You’ll find the right words when the time comes. You always do.”
You weren’t sure about that, but you didn’t argue. Instead, you pulled back just enough to look up at him, your hands still resting against his chest. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, you could see the same worry you felt reflected in his gaze. But there was something else too—something softer, something that made your heart skip a beat.
Before you could say anything, Logan leaned down, pressing his lips to yours in a slow, tender kiss. It wasn’t rushed or urgent—just gentle, like he was trying to tell you without words that he was there, that you didn’t have to carry everything alone.
You kissed him back, your fingers curling into his shirt as you pulled him closer. For a few seconds, it was just the two of you, the world outside forgotten. But when you finally pulled back, the ache in your chest flared again, sharper this time, making you wince slightly.
Logan’s eyes narrowed, concern flashing across his face. “You alright?”
“Yeah,” you said quickly, brushing it off. “Just... tired, I guess.”
He didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push it either. Instead, he kissed your forehead softly, his hands still holding you close. “You need to sleep. I’ll stay with you, okay?”
You nodded, letting him lead you to your small bedroom. As you lay down, Logan settled beside you, his arm draped around your waist as he pulled you close. You nestled against him, the warmth of his body soothing, but even as you drifted off to sleep, that strange ache lingered, a quiet reminder that something wasn’t right.
---
Over the next few days, you tried to ignore the fatigue that seemed to cling to you like a heavy blanket. You told yourself it was just the stress, the worry about Mrs. Thomas and the kids. But the truth was, deep down, you knew it was more than that.
Mr. Thomas had been around the house more often, spending almost every moment with his wife before she passed. It would only be a matter of days now. Her condition had deteriorated to the point where she was barely conscious most of the time, her labored breathing a constant reminder of the inevitable.
You moved quietly through the house, keeping the children occupied as best you could. Edwin and Phillip were rambunctious as always, but Ada had grown more subdued. She didn’t ask about her mother as often, as if sensing the unspoken truth everyone was trying to shield her from. You noticed how she clung to your side even more than usual, her small hands gripping your skirts, her wide eyes watching you with a kind of quiet understanding that broke your heart.
It was late afternoon, and the house was eerily quiet. The children were playing in the parlor, their laughter muffled behind the closed doors. You had just finished cleaning up the kitchen when a wave of exhaustion hit you. Your legs felt heavy, your chest tight. You hadn’t been sleeping well, the stress of Mrs. Thomas’s condition weighing on you, but this was different. Your appetite had been lacking for days, though you’d convinced yourself it was just nerves.
You leaned against the counter, taking a slow, deep breath to steady yourself. It would pass. You just needed rest.
Logan wasn’t due to visit tonight. He had mentioned something about work keeping him late, and you didn’t want to ask him to come by, though the ache in your chest—the one you tried to ignore—longed for his presence.
Shaking off the lingering fatigue, you made your way upstairs to check on Mrs. Thomas. As you reached the top of the stairs, you heard her soft, raspy breathing. You hesitated outside the door, your hand resting on the doorknob for a moment, before slowly opening it and stepping inside.
Mr. Thomas sat at his wife’s bedside, holding her hand gently. He glanced up at you, his face pale and drawn, the exhaustion of weeks of worry evident in his eyes. You gave him a small, comforting smile, though you weren’t sure how much comfort you could offer.
"Thank you, Y/N," he said quietly, his voice hoarse from lack of sleep and emotion. "For everything."
You nodded, moving to the other side of the bed to check on Mrs. Thomas. Her eyes were closed, her breathing shallow and uneven. She didn’t stir when you adjusted the blankets around her. The room was stifling, the air heavy with the scent of sickness, and you fought the urge to cough, your throat suddenly dry.
“She’s peaceful,” you murmured softly, glancing at Mr. Thomas.
He nodded but didn’t say anything. His gaze was fixed on his wife, his hand never leaving hers.
You stayed for a moment longer, but the fatigue creeping up your spine forced you to excuse yourself. As you descended the stairs, your legs felt weaker than before, and a dull ache had settled in your chest. You rubbed absently at your throat, trying to shake off the discomfort. It was nothing, you told yourself. Just tired.
The evening stretched on, the children finally quieting down for bed. You tucked them in, lingering for a moment by Ada’s bedside. She reached for your hand, her tiny fingers curling around yours.
“Will Mama be better soon?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
You swallowed the lump in your throat, brushing a lock of hair from her forehead. “She’s resting, sweetheart,” you said softly. “Just keep being brave, alright?”
Ada nodded, her eyes already heavy with sleep, though the worry didn’t leave her small face.
Once they were all asleep, you returned downstairs, your body feeling heavier with each step. The fire in the hearth had burned low, casting long shadows across the room. You sat by the fireplace, staring into the dying flames, and let the silence of the house settle over you.
And then there was a soft knock at the back door.
Your heart lifted despite the exhaustion weighing you down. You rose slowly and crossed the room, opening the door to find Logan standing there, snowflakes dusting his hair and coat. He gave you a crooked smile, his eyes scanning your face with concern.
“You look tired,” he said softly, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “Really tired.”
“I’m fine,” you murmured, though the weariness in your voice betrayed you. “I wasn’t expecting you tonight.”
“I finished earlier than I thought,” he said, shrugging off his coat and hanging it by the door. “Thought I’d check on you.”
Without another word, he closed the distance between you, his arms wrapping around you in a gentle embrace. You melted into him, resting your head against his chest as the warmth of his body seeped into yours. For a moment, the ache in your chest seemed to ease, the fatigue lifting just a little.
“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.
Logan pulled back slightly, his hand coming up to cup your cheek as he studied your face. “You don’t have to thank me,” he said softly, his thumb brushing against your skin. “I’m here.”
His lips met yours in a slow, tender kiss, and you felt the tension in your body begin to unravel. The warmth of his mouth, the familiar strength of his hands holding you close—it was all you needed in that moment. When the kiss ended, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours.
“You need to rest,” he murmured. “You look like you’re about to fall over.”
“I will,” you promised, though you didn’t want to leave his arms just yet. You leaned into him, letting his presence chase away the exhaustion for a little longer.
---
The funeral was only 6 days later, 4 days after Mrs. Thomas’ passing. She was buried at the Prospect Cemetery at a small affair with rich people you had only heard of in passing.
The funeral was a somber affair. Mrs. Thomas was laid to rest under a sky that threatened snow, and you stood a little ways back, holding Ada’s hand tightly. She had been unusually quiet since her mother’s passing, and even Edwin and Phillip had sensed the weight of the occasion, their usual energy tempered by the somber mood.
You glanced around at the crowd gathered—a sea of dark, expensive fabrics, murmured condolences, and familiar faces. Most of the people you recognized only by name or through brief encounters at the Thomas house. They didn’t seem to belong to the world you inhabited, their whispered conversations and distant gazes a reminder of the divide between their lives and yours.
Mr. Thomas stood near the front, his face a mask of stoicism as he accepted words of sympathy. His children had not left your side, and you knew why. They found more comfort in you than in the strangers who seemed to only appear during tragedies. You didn’t blame them.
As the ceremony came to a close, Ada tugged at your hand. "Can we go home now?" she asked quietly, her voice barely audible over the sound of rustling leaves and shifting boots in the cold.
You nodded, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “We can, sweetheart. Just a few more minutes.”
You caught Mr. Thomas’s eye as he stepped away from the others. He gave you a weary nod, and you knew it was time to leave. You guided the children back to the carriage, helping them inside before following. The ride home was silent, save for the occasional sniffle from Ada and the creaking of the carriage wheels on the cobbled streets.
---
Back at the house, the quiet felt heavier than before. You could feel the weight of grief settling over everything, and it seemed to seep into your bones, making the fatigue that had been gnawing at you for days feel unbearable. Once the children were settled, you retreated to the kitchen, needing a moment to yourself.
But the moment you sat down, the ache in your chest flared up again, sharper this time. You tried to breathe through it, but the tightness only seemed to get worse. A cold sweat broke out on your forehead, and you pressed a hand to your throat, willing it to pass. It felt like something more than just exhaustion now. Something was wrong, but you didn’t have time to worry about it.
The back door creaked open, and you startled, your hand flying to your chest as Logan stepped in. His eyes immediately found yours, narrowing in concern.
“Y/N,” he said, his voice low but urgent as he crossed the room. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” you muttered, forcing a weak smile as you tried to stand. “I’m just tired. Long day.”
But Logan wasn’t buying it. His hand caught yours, and he gently pulled you to him, his other hand resting on your waist. “You’ve been tired for days,” he said quietly, his eyes searching yours. “And you look worse now than you did a week ago.”
“I’m fine,” you insisted, leaning into his warmth without thinking. “Just... everything with Mrs. Thomas. I haven’t been sleeping well, that’s all.”
Logan didn’t say anything for a moment, just held you there, his thumb brushing slow circles against your hip. “You’re not fine,” he said softly. “You need to rest. You’re running yourself into the ground, and I don’t want—”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” you cut him off, shaking your head as you buried your face in his chest. “I just... I just want to stay like this for a while. Can we do that?”
Logan’s arms tightened around you, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “We can stay like this as long as you need,” he whispered.
The warmth of his embrace, the steady rise and fall of his chest, calmed the rapid beating of your heart. It didn’t make the ache in your chest go away, but it dulled the edges for a little while. You stayed like that, your bodies swaying slightly, as if rocking back and forth would somehow soothe the turmoil inside you both.
After a long stretch of silence, Logan pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. His fingers brushed a loose strand of hair from your face, his gaze soft but serious. “You’ve gotta start taking care of yourself,” he murmured. “I mean it, Y/N.”
“I will,” you promised, though you weren’t sure how much of it was for him and how much was for yourself. You could see the worry etched in his features, and it made your heart ache in a different way. “I just... I don’t want to leave the kids right now. They need me.”
Logan sighed, shaking his head slightly. “They need you alive and healthy, not running yourself ragged.”
You knew he was right, but the thought of stepping away—of not being there for them when they needed you most—made your stomach turn.
“I know,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “But I’m all they have right now.”
Logan’s expression softened, and he leaned in to kiss you gently, his lips lingering against yours in a way that felt both comforting and urgent, as if he was trying to convey everything he couldn’t put into words.
When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re not alone in this, Y/N,” he murmured. “I’m here. Always.”
You closed your eyes, letting the weight of his words settle over you. It was moments like this, in the quiet after the storm, that made everything feel bearable, even when the exhaustion seemed impossible to shake. You didn’t want to think about what came next—the inevitable questions from the children, the grief that would continue to hang over the house like a dark cloud.
For now, you just wanted to be here, with Logan, in this fleeting moment of peace.
---
Over the next few days, that small cough persisted, annoying but easy to brush off at first. You told yourself it was just the cold weather, or maybe the exhaustion still clinging to you. But it stuck around, and soon it wasn’t just a cough. Your chest felt heavier, and there were moments where you had to stop to catch your breath.
You didn’t say anything to Logan the first few nights he visited, not wanting to worry him. It wasn’t like you were coughing up blood or anything, and you figured it would pass, just like the fatigue had started to. But when he saw you rubbing your chest again, his eyes narrowed with concern.
“You’ve been coughing a lot,” Logan said one evening, his arm draped casually over your shoulder as you leaned into him by the fire. The warmth of the flames helped ease the tightness in your chest, but even then, it felt harder to breathe than it had before.
“I’m fine,” you mumbled, tucking your legs under you and snuggling closer to him, hoping to avoid the conversation. “It’s just the cold. Everyone’s getting sick this time of year.”
Logan tilted his head, clearly unconvinced. “Y/N, don’t pull that. I know you, and you’re coughing more than you should be. This isn’t just a cold.”
You sighed, not wanting to argue, but the exhaustion weighed on you, and fighting him off seemed too tiring. “Okay, maybe it’s not just a cold,” you admitted, glancing at him. “But it’s nothing serious. I’m just run down.”
Logan’s fingers gently traced up your arm, his touch familiar and grounding. He looked at you with that steady gaze of his, the one that made you feel safe. “You need to rest. Real rest, not just five minutes of sleep here and there between looking after the kids.”
You gave him a half-hearted smile, reaching up to touch his face. “I know. But they need me right now, especially Ada. She’s not taking this well, and I can’t just leave her.”
Logan leaned in and pressed his forehead to yours, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re no good to them if you collapse from exhaustion.”
The way he said it—so serious, so protective—it made your chest ache in a different way. You knew he was right, but the thought of taking a step back when the kids were still hurting felt impossible.
“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, but your voice wavered just enough that Logan picked up on it.
He kissed you softly, slow and gentle, like he was trying to pour all of his concern into that one kiss. When he pulled back, his hand lingered on the side of your face. “You don’t have to carry this by yourself, Y/N,” he said softly. “I’m here.”
You looked at him, feeling the weight of his words, and for a moment, you let yourself believe it—that you didn’t have to do everything on your own.
But the next morning, as you moved through the house and got the kids ready for the day, the cough came back with a vengeance. It left you winded, gripping the counter to steady yourself as your breath caught in your throat. Ada was tugging at your skirt, asking for something, but the ringing in your ears made it hard to focus.
“Y/N?” her small voice called, but everything sounded distant.
You forced yourself to smile, pushing through the wave of dizziness. “I’m okay, sweetheart,” you said, though it was more for you than her. The ache in your chest was sharper now, and for the first time, a flicker of real fear crossed your mind.
That evening, when Logan came by, you didn’t have the energy to hide how bad you felt. The second he walked through the door, he saw it in your face.
“Y/N,” he said, his voice urgent as he rushed to your side. “What the hell happened? You look worse.”
You tried to brush it off, but the cough came again, harsher this time, and Logan’s eyes darkened with worry. His hands were on you, steadying you as you leaned into him, the warmth of his body grounding you again.
“You’re not fine,” he said, his tone more serious now. “I should’ve done something sooner.”
“Logan, don’t—”
“I’m taking you to a doctor,” he interrupted, his jaw set. “No arguing.”
You wanted to protest, but the truth was, you didn’t have the strength to fight him. You were too tired, too worn down, and part of you was scared. So you nodded, letting him pull you into his arms as if holding you close would make everything better.
“I’m here,” Logan whispered against your hair, his voice soft and filled with a tenderness that made your heart ache. “I’ll take care of you, okay? You’re not going through this alone.”
---
The next morning, Logan arrived earlier than usual. He wasn’t taking any chances, especially after the night before. You’d barely slept, your coughing keeping you awake for most of it, and when you did manage to drift off, it was only in short, restless intervals.
Logan helped you into the carriage he’d hired, his hands lingering on your arms longer than necessary, his brow furrowed with worry. He hadn’t said much since arriving, just a quiet “Mornin’” before ushering you outside. His concern was written all over his face, even though he tried to hide it behind a mask of calm.
You leaned back against the seat, closing your eyes as the carriage bumped along the cobbled streets. Each breath felt heavier, the tightness in your chest worsening by the day. You didn’t want to admit it, but you knew this was more than just a cold. The cough had settled deep, rattling in your lungs, and even though you tried to convince yourself it was nothing serious, the thought that it could be something more was gnawing at you.
Logan sat beside you, his knee pressed against yours as he kept a protective hand on your leg. Every so often, you’d feel his gaze on you, watching, as if checking to make sure you were still holding on. The warmth of his presence was a comfort, even if you didn’t say it out loud.
When the carriage finally stopped, you opened your eyes and saw the modest sign hanging above the doctor's office. Logan didn’t waste any time helping you down, his arm tight around your waist as you made your way inside.
The waiting room was quiet, the air thick with the scent of medicinal herbs. Logan barely let go of you the entire time, his arm never leaving your waist, and when the doctor finally called you in, Logan made it clear he wasn’t going anywhere.
Inside the small exam room, the doctor—a middle-aged man with silver hair and a kind face—greeted you both with a nod. His expression shifted when he looked at you, though, his eyes softening in a way that made your stomach churn with nerves.
“How long have you had the cough, miss?” the doctor asked as you sat down, Logan standing right behind you.
“A few days,” you said, your voice raspy and weak. “Maybe a little longer.”
The doctor frowned slightly, moving closer to examine you. “And the fatigue? Any weight loss?”
You nodded. “Yes... I’ve been really tired, and I haven’t had much of an appetite.”
Logan’s hand rested on your shoulder, a silent reassurance that he was there. The doctor continued his examination, listening to your chest with a stethoscope, his brow furrowing as he moved from side to side.
After what felt like an eternity, the doctor stepped back, letting out a slow breath. He met your eyes, and you knew immediately that it wasn’t good.
“I don’t want to alarm you,” he began, his voice gentle. “But given your symptoms and the sound of your lungs, I believe you may have contracted tuberculosis.”
The words hung in the air like a heavy weight. You felt Logan tense behind you, his grip on your shoulder tightening ever so slightly.
Tuberculosis.
The sickness that had taken Mrs. Thomas. The same one that had been lingering in the house for weeks.
Your heart pounded in your chest, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. You’d heard the stories—the way it ravaged families, the way it spread so easily. You’d seen it firsthand with Mrs. Thomas, watching her waste away before your eyes.
“How... how bad is it?” Logan’s voice was rough, strained, like he was barely holding himself together.
The doctor glanced at him, his expression serious. “It’s hard to say right now. Tuberculosis can vary greatly in severity. We’ll need to monitor her closely. Rest, proper care, and keeping her away from others as much as possible will be essential.”
You tried to swallow, but your throat felt tight. “What... what do we do now?”
The doctor sighed. “We’ll start with treatment to help ease the symptoms—medicinal herbs, rest, and a strict diet. It’s crucial that you avoid any further exertion. You’ll need to isolate yourself to prevent it from spreading.”
You nodded, but your mind was spinning. The thought of being confined, of having to stay away from the children—it made your chest tighten even more. How were you supposed to care for them when you couldn’t even take care of yourself?
Logan crouched down in front of you, his eyes searching yours as he held your hands in his. “We’ll figure this out, okay?” he said softly. “You’ll rest, and I’ll help with the kids. You’re not doing this alone.”
Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away. You didn’t want to cry, didn’t want Logan to see how scared you really were.
“I don’t want to leave them,” you whispered, your voice shaking. “They need me.”
“I know,” Logan murmured, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against your hand. “But they need you healthy, Y/N. And I need you healthy.”
You looked at him, your heart aching at the sight of his worry. He was trying so hard to be strong for you, to keep it together, but you could see the fear in his eyes—the same fear you felt deep in your bones.
“We’ll get through this,” he said firmly. “You’re not going anywhere, okay? Not without a fight.”
You nodded, squeezing his hands as tightly as you could. Logan stayed close, his presence a steady, comforting force as the weight of the diagnosis settled over you both.
---
Weeks passed, and the house became quieter. The children were kept at a distance, the once lively home now feeling more like a tomb as you spent your days in bed, trying to gather what little strength you had left. Logan had taken over your duties, ensuring the children were cared for while also staying close to you.
Your body grew weaker with each passing day, the illness creeping deeper into your lungs. The once mild cough had turned into something far more painful, leaving you breathless and exhausted after every fit. You knew, deep down, that the end was approaching. You could feel it in the way your energy dwindled, the way even opening your eyes took effort.
Logan, on the other hand, refused to give up. He never spoke of what was coming, never let on that he saw the same inevitable truth. Instead, he clung to hope, pushing you to eat, to drink, to rest. His presence was a constant, grounding you even in your weakest moments.
Sometimes you even talked about the future, the one you knew you would never have, and the one Logan hoped you would, with him.
Your coughing fit had died down for now, leaving you in bed with your head resting against Logan’s shoulder. His arm was wrapped protectively around you, and the warmth of his body gave you a sense of comfort, even when the pain in your chest didn’t. You took in a shaky breath and spoke softly.
“I’ve always wanted a dog,” you murmured, your voice still weak. “Maybe two.”
Logan shifted slightly, his chin resting on top of your head. “Yeah? What kind?”
You shrugged, smiling a little. “Doesn’t really matter. I just like the idea of having something waiting for me at home, you know? Something happy to see me, no matter what kind of day I’ve had.”
He chuckled quietly, the sound vibrating through his chest. “You’d be a good dog mom.”
You looked up at him, a playful glint in your tired eyes. “You think?”
“Definitely. You’ve already got all the practice with the kids.” He paused, his thumb gently brushing the back of your hand. “Except maybe the dog would be less trouble.”
You laughed, but it turned into a cough, and you quickly brought a hand to your mouth. Logan tensed beside you, waiting until the coughing subsided before speaking again.
“You’re gonna get better, Y/N,” he said softly, his voice firm, but the edge of worry was clear. “We’ll get you that dog. Or two.”
You didn’t respond right away. You wanted to believe him—really, you did—but each day you felt weaker, and it was getting harder to ignore the reality of your situation. But you also didn’t want to drag him down with your fears, so you leaned into him instead, letting the moment linger.
You put your chin on his shoulder, looking up at him, “how many kids would you want?”
Logan looked at you, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Kids, huh?” His voice was warm, teasing, but there was something tender in the way he looked at you, like he was imagining it for real.
“Yeah,” you said, resting your chin on his shoulder, eyes searching his face. “I know it’s kind of silly to think about right now, but... I like the idea. You?”
He took a breath, his fingers tracing absent patterns on your arm. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Never really thought much about it until you.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Until me?”
Logan chuckled softly. “Yeah. Before you, I wasn’t really thinkin’ about things like... a future, you know? I didn’t even know if I’d stay in the city long. But now... now I think about things I never used to.” He paused, glancing down at your hand, his fingers interlacing with yours. “Like kids, and... us.”
Your heart fluttered at that, the weight of his words settling in. He’d never said anything like that before—nothing about the future beyond today or tomorrow. It wasn’t like either of you knew what was coming, especially now, but hearing him say that he thought about you in that way made everything feel more real. More possible.
You grinned, nudging him playfully. “So, how many then? Two? Three?”
Logan laughed quietly. “Two sounds good. Just enough to keep us on our toes, but not so many we lose our minds.”
You giggled, a sound that quickly turned into a cough, and Logan’s smile faded a little, worry creeping back into his eyes. But he didn’t say anything. Instead, he just held you closer, his arms wrapping around you like he could shield you from everything bad in the world.
Once the cough subsided, you leaned your head back against his chest. “I think you’d be a good dad, Logan.”
His hand stilled against your arm. “You think?”
“Yeah,” you said softly. “You’re good with the kids now, even if you don’t realize it. They like you, trust you. You’d protect them... care for them.”
Logan was quiet for a moment, and you could feel the weight of his thoughts. “I’d try,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.
The warmth of his body, the steadiness of his presence—it was enough to make you forget, for just a little while, how weak you felt. You closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into the comfort of him, of this moment, even though you knew it wouldn’t last.
“Do you ever wonder what it’d be like?” you asked quietly. “If we didn’t have to worry about... this.” You gestured vaguely, meaning the illness, the uncertainty, all of it.
“All the time,” Logan murmured. “But we’ve still got time, Y/N. I’m not giving up on you.”
You opened your eyes, looking up at him. “You really think we’ll make it through this?”
Logan’s gaze was unwavering. “I know we will.”
His confidence, his belief in you, in this, made your heart ache in the best way. You wanted to believe him, wanted to hold onto that hope, even though the fear lingered in the back of your mind.
“You don’t have to be so tough all the time,” Logan said gently, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. “It’s okay to lean on me.”
You looked at him, your chest tight for a different reason now. “I know.”
And you did. Logan was always there, steady and unshakable, even when you felt like you were falling apart. You didn’t have to do this alone, even if part of you still felt like you should.
Logan leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than usual. “I’m with you, Y/N,” he whispered. “No matter what.”
You closed your eyes again, savoring the warmth of his kiss, the feeling of his arms around you. For now, that was enough.
But even as you rested against him, part of you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that your time was running out.
---
Logan hated the fact that everything you said was in past tense. How you would’ve liked to learn how to bake bread in that cabin you wanted.
How you would’ve liked to learn how to crochet.
Logan sat on the edge of the bed, watching you with a quiet intensity. You had been talking again, your voice soft and tired, about all the things you wished you had more time to do. It was starting to drive him crazy—the way you spoke in past tense, like you were already halfway gone.
“Would’ve liked to learn how to crochet,” he repeated softly, his eyes never leaving your face.
You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “Yeah. I always thought it’d be nice to make something with my hands. You know, like a blanket or something... for the cabin.”
Logan’s chest tightened. He hated this—hated that you were talking about all these little dreams like they were out of reach. He leaned forward, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “You’re gonna be fine, Y/N,” he said, trying to sound more certain than he felt. “You’ll still have time for all that.”
You met his gaze, your eyes soft but filled with something else—something that made his heart ache. “Logan...”
“No,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “You don’t get to talk like that. We’re gonna get you through this.”
You let out a soft sigh, your hand coming up to touch his cheek. “You don’t always have to be strong, you know. It’s okay to be scared.”
“I’m not scared,” Logan said quickly, though the way he gripped your hand a little tighter gave him away. He wasn’t ready to admit it—to you, to himself—that the thought of losing you scared him more than anything he’d ever faced.
You smiled faintly, shifting on the bed so you could lean into him. “I know you, Logan. You don’t have to pretend for me.”
Logan felt his throat tighten as you pressed closer to him. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you into his chest, trying to hold on to the moment for as long as he could. Your body felt so fragile against his, like you could break if he held you too tight. But he needed to feel you, to remind himself that you were still here.
“Don’t,” Logan said, his voice thick with emotion. “Don’t talk like that.” He looked away for a second, trying to regain control of the storm raging inside him. He didn’t want to hear the finality in your voice, didn’t want to acknowledge the possibility that you might slip away from him.
You reached out, your hand trembling slightly as you touched his cheek. “Logan, you know as well as I do...”
“No,” he repeated, cutting you off again, his voice gruff but shaky. His hand covered yours, pressing it gently against his face. “I’m not losing you. I don’t care what the doctor says. We’ll fight this. We’ll get through it.”
There was a long silence between you, the air heavy with the unspoken truth. You didn’t have the heart to argue with him, but you knew. You could feel it in your bones, in the way your body was failing you little by little every day. But Logan’s refusal to accept that reality made you love him even more, even if it hurt.
You gave him a sad smile, your eyes locking with his. “I love you, Logan.”
His breath caught, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. The weight of those words—words you’d both danced around but never truly said—hit him like a punch to the gut. He leaned in close, his forehead resting against yours, his voice barely a whisper.
“I love you too, Y/N,” he finally said, his voice breaking just a little.
You closed your eyes, letting the warmth of his words wash over you. It wasn’t fair, any of this. You’d only just begun to imagine a life with him, and now that future was slipping through your fingers.
Logan held you tighter, his arms wrapped around you as if he could protect you from everything, even death. He kissed your forehead, then your cheek, before pressing a final, lingering kiss to your lips. It wasn’t passionate or desperate—just soft, filled with all the love he hadn’t yet had the chance to show you.
“I’m here,” he whispered again, his lips brushing against your skin. “Always.”
And for a moment, despite the pain, despite everything, you believed him. Because even if the future was uncertain, even if you didn’t have much time left, you had this. You had him. And for now, that was enough.
---
Nothing had worked, and nothing was working.
You had already accepted your fate, but Logan couldn’t—no matter how many times you tried to explain. He kept his focus on you, his stubborn hope unwavering, even though you both knew time was running out.
“You’re gonna be fine, Y/N. You’ll see,” he said softly, sitting beside you on the bed. He brushed a hand through your hair, his touch gentle, but the worry in his eyes was impossible to miss.
You looked up at him, your chest tight—not from the sickness, but from the overwhelming love you felt for him in that moment. “Logan... we need to talk about this.”
He shook his head immediately, his jaw clenched. “No, we don’t. We don’t have to talk about anything like that. You’re gonna get better, and we’ll figure everything out.” His voice cracked just a little at the end, betraying the fear he was trying to hide.
You reached for his hand, your fingers trembling as they closed around his. “I don’t want to pretend anymore. I don’t want to spend what little time we have left lying to ourselves.”
Logan looked down at your intertwined hands, his thumb tracing slow circles on your skin. “But I can’t... I can’t think about losing you.”
“You don’t have to think about it,” you whispered, leaning your head against his shoulder. “But we need to be honest with each other. I’m not getting better, Logan. We both know that.”
His whole body tensed beside you, and he turned his head away as if looking anywhere but at you would somehow make your words less real. “I can’t... I can’t lose you, Y/N.”
You swallowed the lump in your throat and leaned closer, pressing your lips softly to his jaw. “I love you, Logan. That’s all that matters to me right now.”
His breath hitched, and for a long moment, he didn’t say anything. He just sat there, holding you as if he could protect you from the inevitable, his arms tightening around you.
After a while, he finally spoke, his voice barely a whisper. “I love you too. More than anything. That’s why I’m not giving up.”
You pulled back slightly, looking up at him, your heart breaking for him. “I know you’re trying to protect me... but I don’t want you to carry this alone. I need you to be here with me, in this moment, not fighting something we can’t change.”
Logan’s eyes met yours, and for a second, the wall he’d built around himself seemed to crack. “I don’t know how to do that,” he admitted. “I don’t know how to just... be.”
“You don’t have to be strong all the time,” you whispered, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek. “You can let go.”
His eyes softened, and before you could say anything else, Logan leaned in and kissed you—soft, but with an intensity that made your heart ache. It was a kiss that said everything he couldn’t put into words: the fear, the love, the desperation to hold onto whatever time you had left.
When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breath shaky. “I don’t know how to say goodbye,” he whispered.
You closed your eyes, your hand still resting on his cheek. “We don’t have to say goodbye yet. Just stay with me. That’s all I want.”
Logan didn’t respond with words. Instead, he held you tighter, his arms wrapping around you as if he could keep you with him through sheer willpower alone. You could feel the tremble in his hands, the way his breath hitched every now and then like he was fighting back tears.
For a while, you both stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, the world outside fading into nothingness. There was no cough, no sickness, no uncertainty—just the warmth of Logan’s body against yours and the steady beat of his heart beneath your hand.
Eventually, you spoke, your voice barely audible. “I wish we had more time.”
Logan’s grip tightened slightly. “Me too.”
You felt a lump in your throat, but you forced a small smile. “You know... if things were different, I think we’d have had a pretty good life together.”
Logan’s voice was thick with emotion as he replied, “We still will. Somehow... someday.”
You leaned your head against his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. “Maybe in another life.”
Logan didn’t say anything, but you could feel the way his body stiffened, like he couldn’t stand the thought of losing you again—even in another life.
“You don’t have to be alone, Logan,” you whispered, your voice soft but filled with all the love you had left. “Promise me you won’t shut yourself off.”
He was silent for a long moment, and when he finally spoke, his voice was rough and raw. “I can’t promise that.”
You smiled faintly, knowing that was the best you were going to get from him. “Just... don’t forget me.”
Logan leaned down and pressed another kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a long time. “I could never forget you.”
The room was quiet after that, the only sound the soft rustling of the blankets as Logan adjusted you in his arms, pulling you closer.
You closed your eyes, feeling the exhaustion creeping in again, but this time it didn’t feel so overwhelming. With Logan’s warmth surrounding you, with his quiet strength holding you up, you felt at peace.
---
You had passed away in your sleep that night, in Logan’s arms. He had stayed up, something in his subconscious telling him to keep his eye on you.
And he did, he felt you take your last breath; one that didn’t seem as painful as when you were awake.
Logan held you close, his arms tightening around you instinctively as he realized what had just happened. His mind refused to process it, refused to accept that this was it. He stared at you, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with breaths that felt foreign in his own body. You weren’t moving anymore, not even the faintest stir.
For a long time, he didn’t let go. He couldn’t. His arms stayed wrapped around you, his face buried in your hair, willing his warmth into your body as if that could somehow bring you back.
"Y/N..." he whispered, his voice broken. He lifted his head slightly, his thumb brushing your cold cheek. "Please... wake up."
There was no answer.
Logan swallowed hard, his throat burning, his chest tightening. His hand trembled as it caressed your face, fingers gently tucking your hair behind your ear like he’d done a hundred times before. But this time, there was no playful smile in return. No teasing comment about how messy your hair always was.
It was quiet. Too quiet.
He let out a shaky breath, his other hand clutching the bedsheet, the weight of what had happened finally starting to crush him. He knew this moment was coming—he’d known it for weeks, maybe even months—but now that it was here, it didn’t feel real. He couldn’t understand how it had come to this, how someone as full of life as you could just... stop.
“Y/N... don’t do this... please,” he whispered again, his voice barely audible as if saying it any louder would make it more true. His hand lingered on your cheek, hoping for even the smallest sign that you’d take another breath.
But nothing came.
He stayed like that for a long time, just holding you, feeling the weight of your stillness.
Logan had never felt so powerless in his life. For all the things he could do, for all the strength in his bones, none of it could save you. His healing couldn’t save you. The realization cut him deeper than any wound ever had.
At some point, he felt his chest tremble, felt the tears start to burn at the corners of his eyes. He hadn’t cried in years, maybe ever—not like this—but he couldn’t stop it now. Not when he’d lost you.
“I... I love you,” he choked out, the words falling from his lips like a confession, like an apology for not saying it enough while you were still here to hear it. He pressed his forehead to yours, his voice breaking again. “I love you so much...”
The room was silent, except for the sound of Logan’s ragged breathing and the ticking of the old clock in the corner, each second passing with an agonizing slowness. He wished he could turn it back, go back to when you were still here—laughing, talking, smiling. Anything but this.
But he couldn’t.
And the weight of that realization shattered him.
For the first time in his life, Logan had no fight left in him. Not for this. Not without you.
i'm not gonna lie, i definitely started crying while writing those last few scenes, even though i knew how it was gonna end
just a little note for everyone (i'll probably add this at the end of every chapter just cause it helped me when writing) in this chapter, logan is 22 years old and reader is around the same age.
tags: @seasonofthenerd @golden-ebony @planetxella @tighrenicotine @wittyjasontodd @cherrypieyourface @tumharisakhi @person-005 @zaggprincess2
#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you#wolverine x reader#wolverine x you#james howlett x reader#james howlett x you#logan howlett#logan howlett fanfiction#logan howlett x fem!reader#logan howlett fic#i love you in every time
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hello hello it’s dom rafe anon back with more dom rafe thoughts, what do you think his harshest punishments would be? i definitely see him preferring “sir” and reader following whatever rules he decides for the day, fully intending on setting her up to fail. maybe after a few times she catches on and snaps at him a little but she doesn’t realize the punishment she’s about to get for giving him attitude (which is just what he wanted)
this had me talking to @babygorewhore abt it so ty morgy muah!!! also have i ever said how much ily dom rafe anon hehe <3 i once again got carried away 🙈
oh i definitely agree that he would prefer her calling him "sir". i think he likes both "sir" and "daddy" but for me, "sir" makes him feel like he has power and is more in control.
now the harshest punishments, i have two that i can think of. the first one, without a doubt, is edging. he would edge the hell out of her if she’s being bratty and giving him an attitude.
the second one would be not cumming inside of her but rather on her, just wait, hear me out.
he would do it as a way to humiliate her but his main reason for it is because he knows she associates him cumming inside of her as him liking her. what i mean by this is she's the type of girl to ask "do you still like me?" if he were to pull out which is why he would use it as a punishment because he knows it fucks with her.
he would give her the hardest time by picking out rules for her to follow throughout the day knowing damn well that those rules would be impossible for her to follow. she doesn’t realize what he’s trying to do cause she’s just trying to be a good girl for him.
but the second she starts to realize and catches onto how ridiculous his rules are, she snaps at him, giving him the exact reaction he was wanting.
which results in her instantly regretting snapping at him the moment he flips her over onto her stomach with her ass in the air, face pressed against the mattress and her wrists bound together behind her back.
he’s pulling whines and whimpers out from her as he continuously toys with her puffy, wet cunt with his fingers and mouth. each time he felt her walls flutter against his fingers, he’d stop, making her cry out at being denied of her orgasm.
each time she was near the edge, he’d stop. “p-please” she would cry out, tears streaming down her face as she sobs and he’d just tsk at her, “this is what happens when you wanna give me a fuckin’ attitude”.
she thinks his punishment is over and that he’ll let her cum when he’s pushing his thick cock into her, stretching her open but she couldn’t be more wrong.
rafe is relentlessly pounding into her, his bedroom filling with the wet, squelching sounds from his cock sliding in and out of her. his fingers rubbing her clit as his hips continue snapping against her ass.
she can feel his cock twitching inside of her as she’s clenching around him. “rafe…” she whines and he can’t help but taunt her, “my pretty girl wants to cum?”.
“uh huh” she nods, not sure how much more she can take, “that’s too fuckin’ bad” he chuckles. her vision starts to become blurry as her eyes fill with more tears and she wants nothing more than to cum and to feel him fill her to the brim.
“n-need you to cum inside of me” she pleads, hoping he’d at least fill her aching cunt with his seed. “you don’t get to cum or deserve being stuffed with my cum” he grunts and right as rafe is about to cum, he pulls out of her, groaning as he strokes himself before shooting his cum all over her back.
tagging: @oceandriveab / @sturnioloshacker / @rafeinterlude / @xxbimbobunnyxx / @eddieslut69 / @drudyslut / @peterpan-neverfails / @maiiuelle / @nemesyaaa / @hallecarey1 / @heartsforvin / @kisses4angel / @hyperfixationgirl / @emilysuperswag / @flvredcas / @starkeysheart / @ihe4rttwd / @rafesthroatbaby / @rafescurtainbangz / @starkeyisthelastname
#𝕞𝕪 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕜 ¸.*☆*.¸#starkeysprincess asks#anon asks <3#dom!rafe#dom!rafe x reader#dom!rafe cameron#dom!rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron obx#rafe cameron outer banks#rafe cameron fic#rafe obx#obx blurb#obx smut#rafe cameron x y/n
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⋆⭒˚。⋆₊ ⊹ CHAMPAGNE CONFETTI
₊˚⊹♡ I WANNA SEE IT IN MOTION! IN 3D! gojo satotu, geto suguru, nanami kento, yuta okkotsu, megumi fushiguro˖⁺。˚⋆˙
tags: sexting, degradation, some of them have sub/dom dynamics, semi public arousal (?), sex videos (do not practice this irl), friends with benefits, established relationships, and more idk.
A/N: such a weird combination of jjk men lol
gojo satoru
he was tired and annoyed once he got to the hotel after killing some stupid curses that easily a grade 2 sorcerer could do the work– but oh how they have been insisting on him to continue doing missions this days. he swears it’s utahime’s fault to finally take control over the tokyo students and make them move to kyoto.
but the true thing is that he was also so pent up after spending a long time without you beside him, he would call it a day after taking a shower and lay in bed– but a notification on his phone stopped him before doing so.
1 attachment sent
i bought this new pair, it reminded me of your eyes, i miss you:(
and holy fuck- he swears if he wasn’t in just a pair of black briefs his cock would suffocate because of how fast he got hard– his hand immediately traveling trough and start working nicely to release the feeling. the pre-cum being more than enough to lubricate his cock and make it easier to jerk off– with one hand he opened up the camera and took a video before sending it to you.
sounds of whines and whimpers coming out of the video, making you immediately wet– a visible wet patch forming in your panties, he sounded so pretty– pretty enough to reply to him with another video of you coming –still with your panties on– by just rubbing yourself in the pillow.
“ah fuck it– someone else can take care of this mission”
geto suguru
he’s not a fan of it– he prefers having it in real motion in 3D– and he knows that because when you do send him some risky text or picture is just to piss him off– or maybe he likes to think you’re just a horny slut for him.
but fuck it, why he couldn’t be the horny slut just for once this time? just one time –that’s what he promised himself– the idea of you going out with your friends today, the dress you were wearing being a lil bit too much short for his liking –not wanting to be the type of boyfriend he wouldn’t let you wear whatever you want– and he knows other men will be seeing you and get hard just at the thought of you, so that’s why he needed you like right now.
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wouldn’t u be so nice to come back home and help me relieve some stress? pls baby, i need you.
and this was surprising as fuck because geto was always so dominant, making you the needy one in the relationship, so this wasn’t an opportunity to waste.
send a video of yourself to show me how much you want me.
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fuck, i’m typing with just one hand rn, all i can think of is your pretty lips around my cock.
you were in the restroom of the bar you decided to go out with your friends, core pulsing, surely there was a wetness coming out of you, trying to release some tension, you tried to find some friction by rubbing your thighs together.
i’m going back home baby, do not cum.
nanami kento
“you fucking horny needy slut.”
he exhaled, the words barely hearable– he had to re-adjust in the chair he was sitting on, pants suddenly too tight, tie not letting him breathe and time going lower this time.
“Nanami-san, are you feeling okay?”
he wouldn’t admit it outloud but he’s a fan of the risky texts you send him, edging him and make him eager to go back home as soon as possible– but right now, it would be nice if you didn’t send this in the middle of a fucking reunion he had with some clients. this time you wouldn’t be the only one playing silly games– he would take a quick photo of his growing erection in his pants, with no text, no emoji, no nothing. and the reunion was stressing him out, he was so pent up that he’s a millimeter from standing and leaving.
you knew that, you fucking knew he was in a reunion, but you still decided to desobey him and be a needy brat just to be fucked stupid. and ohh he wouldn’t fall for your silly games, he’s not angry, he’s actually pretty excited to get back home and just edge you till you fall apart in his arms begging for release.
he couldn’t wait.
yuta okkotsu
he’s BRIGHT RED. he was supposed to be focusing on whatever gojo-sensei was talking about, but the moment he opened up your message he expected everything else but this.
and he thinks this was an accident, but no way– the way your body looks, how good your tits looked, damn.
1 attachment sent.
why won’t you come and play with me instead yuta~ ;(
shit, he felt his cock throb and start growing inside his pants– it was so painful to see you like that and can’t have the real thing in 3D to touch, he swears he could just cum if you showed up in front of him like that-
“Are you okay Yuta?” Maki’s voice brought him back to reality, the sudden pain of his cock searching for release becoming a little bit too much to bear– he needed to do something right now.
He excused himself to the restroom, clear erection showing on his pants– praying to god no one saw it, a wet patch forming in it thanks to the amount of pre-cum he was leaking right now.
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lewd sounds came from the video; panting, whimpers, and moans saying your name– you never thought he would answer back, fuck- you even thought this was going to ruin your relationship with yuta, but holy fuck.
there he was, fucking his fist in the bathroom at the image of you, sudden cum painting the mirror, loud whimpers came out of him, telling you how much he needed your little pussy wrapped around his cock–
I’m going to your dorm rn, cant wait anymore
megumi fushiguro
okay. you were supposed to be only friends but god damn. he swears it was the time– suddenly the texts turned more risky and now you’re sending him a video of rubbing yourself with your pillow with his shirt.
and he was never this eager to cum, biting the lower part of his shirt so he could keep his moans back and not wake up Yuuji in the other group (plus he was way too needy to take his shirt off), phone on the other hand on a video call with you while he shows the lewd image of himself fucking at your own movements between a screen.
fuck gojo-sensei, why did he had to send him on a mission? he needs to see you like that but instead of a pillow being the thing you’re rubbing your pussy into, it needs to be his cock instead.
“Ah- ffuck…” small sounds calling out your name came from megumi’s mouth, almost audible thanks to the shirt preventing him from moaning out loud, “sshit, i just wanna be back to see you and touch you baby, i know you won’t regret this.” strips of cum coming out of him, the view making you dizzy and helping you reach your own high too.
#gojo satoru smut#geto suguru smut#nanami kento smut#yuta okkotsu smut#megumi fushiguro smut#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#gojo satoru#geto suguru#nanami kento#megumi fushiguro#yuta okkotsu#megumi smut
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vi. what's up danger?
SYNOPSIS: "Alright, let's do this one last time. My name is Y/N Kyle. I was bitten by a radioactive spider, And I've been the one and only Spidey in Gotham. I’m pretty sure you know the rest." PAIRING: Older! Damian Wayne/Fem! Reader TAGS: Established relationship, Wounds, Violence, Surgical procedures, Panic Attacks, Arguments AO3: yenwayne SERIES LINK: gotham's only spidey
<- PREVIOUS | NEXT ->
NOTE: THIS IS PART 6. I POSTED 2 CHAPTERS TODAY! PART 5 IS HERE
༻⊰───⋅
"No sign of activity. Just monitoring. Slow night."
"Figured," Nightwing's voice spoke up. "There is a storm."
“Ishth Gotham,” Jason's voice chimed in, muffled as if he was chewing something. “When isn’t there a storm?”
"Are you eating right now?" Tim's voice squeaked with disbelief, the sound sharp and incredulous over the comms. "Again? Really?"
"Yeah?" Jason retorted, taking another bite of whatever he was munching on. "A guy's gotta eat. Maybe if you actually ate more, you wouldn’t be so scrawny, Timberland."
"I'm fit!" Tim snapped back, voice cracking. "And can you please stop using my name? We have codenames for a reason."
"You're the genius who called yourself 'Drake'."
༻⊰───⋅
Friday, 8:35 AM - Gotham Academy, Gotham City.
The halls of Gotham Academy buzzed with the usual chatter and laughter—a total disconnect from the storm of nerves brewing inside you. You zigzagged through the crowd, your trusty, battle-worn Converse scuffing against the linoleum. Damian’s varsity jacket hung over your uniform, the hood pulled low to hide the cuts on your face.
Morgan had ditched you at the entrance, probably off to plot some mad science in the labs. Not exactly your idea of fun, so you opted for aimless wandering instead.
And if I only could I'd make a deal with God. And I'd get Him to swap our places. Be runnin' up that road. Be runnin' up that hill Be runnin' up that building.
Your headphones were snug, the music offering a temporary refuge as you walked, your head instinctively nodding to the beat. Even with the volume cranked up, you couldn’t shake the awareness of every shift in the crowd, the way the jacket rubbed against your sore muscles, or the stiffness in your back and arm from the muscle tear. Concerned whispers drifted past you, catching on the currents of passing conversations, but you kept moving, trying to lose yourself in the rhythm of the song.
When you reached Damian’s locker, you leaned against it, letting the cool metal soothe your aching back. You adjusted the hood of his jacket, tugging it further down to hide the cuts around your face. With your free hand, you quickly typed out a message to Damian, your fingers flying over the screen, each tap a small burst of nervous energy.
You:
"At your locker."
You hit send, slipped your phone back into your pocket, then immediately pulled it out again. This time, you opened Twitter, your thumb instinctively scrolling through your feed for any updates on the recent incident.
Tweets about the attack were already trending, paired with blurry photos and clickbait headlines. You cringed as fan accounts for #Nightcrawler started flooding in. It was wild how fast the public’s attention could flip from genuine concern to a full-blown obsession with the latest hero—or villain.
You sighed, the tension in your shoulders building as you scrolled through the flood of posts.
“Beloved?”
A tanned hand brushed gently against your arm, followed by the sight of polished brown dress shoes stepping into view.
“Dami,” you murmured with a relieved smile, leaning into his hold, your head still bowed.
Damian instinctively pulled you into a hug, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. The embrace was firm but careful, as if he feared you might break under too much pressure. He could feel the stiffness in your muscles, your body wound tight with unspoken tension. His eyes narrowed with concern, but he stayed silent, letting the quiet speak for both of you.
His gaze flicked to your phone screen, catching sight of the trending tweets.
“Nightcrawler…” Damian murmured, and you lifted your head just enough to meet his eyes.
Sighing, you shifted so your cheek rested against his chest, the cool scent of his cologne grounding you. You kept scrolling, clicking on a particularly cringeworthy tweet and wincing at the fanatical comments.
“Can you believe these people?” you murmured, frustration seeping into your voice. “It’s insane.”
Sometimes you wondered how Damian and his brothers dealt with all the fanatics, the constant drooling over their hero personas—or even their civilian lives.
Damian’s grip tightened as he held you closer, his brow furrowing in disapproval as he read the tweets over your shoulder.
Repulsive. To him, it was a grotesque spectacle. The media had managed to paint the Spider into a celebrated hero, a figure of admiration, when in reality, the person behind that mask was nothing more than a monster, cloaked in deception and false heroism.
“They’re utterly obsessed,” Damian scoffed. “It’s as if they’ve completely forgotten there’s a real person behind that mask.”
“I know, right?” You sighed, closing Twitter and slipping your phone back into your pocket. “Like, I really don’t want to see those posts. They’re just—so much.”
Damian noticed your distress and instinctively started rubbing soothing circles on your back. But as his hand moved, a sharp muscle spasm seized your shoulder. You cursed, a wince escaping you as the sensation left you momentarily frozen. It felt as if someone had taken a wrench to your shoulder, yanking and twisting until every fiber protested in sharp, jarring bursts.
Damian’s hand froze.
Muscle tear. He realized.
Without a word, he guided you gently into a nearby janitor’s closet. The door clicked shut behind you, cutting off the noise of the bustling hallway and granting you both some much-needed privacy.
Inside, he carefully placed his hand on your elbow and began to stretch the affected muscle. You winced as a sharp twinge of pain flared, but Damian’s voice was soft and soothing.
“It’s okay,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple, offering a small but comforting distraction from the pain.
Gradually, the pain eased, and you let out a sigh of relief. Your shoulders relaxed, the tight knots unwinding.
"I love you and your weird Robin skills," you said with a grateful smile, rolling your shoulders and feeling the tension dissipate.
Damian’s lips twitched into a faint, approving smile, though his voice remained gruff. “Love you too.”
He continued to watch you with a keen, sharp gaze, noticing the hood of your hoodie pulled up. His eyes traced the shadowy outline of your face, and he realized he hadn’t seen it clearly. His expression shifted to one of concern, a frown creasing his brow.
“Why haven’t you taken your hood down?” he asked quietly, his voice low and probing.
You pursed your lips, trying to edge toward the exit. But before you could make a clean getaway, Damian’s hand shot out, gripping your arm and yanking you back into him. You collided with his chest, and for a second, it felt like you’d just hugged a brick wall in a hoodie.
“And where do you think you’re going?”
“Uh, nowhere, apparently,” you sighed, realizing escape wasn’t in the cards today.
“Look. I just didn’t want to get my hair messed up,” you continued, trying to sound casual, but the words felt hollow in the small, enclosed space.
“Oh yeah…?” Damian murmured in disbelief, his voice thick with something darker. His eyes narrowed, and without warning, he bent down to your height, his rough fingers sliding up your jacket. You felt the fabric shift and the warmth of his hand against your side.
You swallowed hard, your hands instinctively bracing against his shoulders. Your nails dug into the fabric of his uniform as you tried to push him back.
“Pull the hood off,” he demanded, his hands working insistently to tug it up. You sputtered out protests, swatting at his hands, but Damian was relentless. “Habibti, let me see! Pull it up—let me see!”
Your grip on the hood tightened, your knuckles going white as you held on for dear life. But Damian’s concern bulldozed through any resistance you put up. He mumbled curses, and suddenly shifted tactics. Bending down, his hands slid under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly. He pinned you against the wall, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist as your weight pressed into his hips.
"Damian, stop!" you groaned, trying to push him away.
But he ignored your plea, yanking the hood off. His eyes widened in shock as he took in the full extent of your injuries. Cuts and bandages marred your face, some fresh, others scabbing over. Dark bruises colored your cheek, spreading out like ominous clouds.
“Who did this to you?” he demanded, even though he was already cursing a certain spider vigilante in his head. Damian dipped his head low, his dangerous glare cutting through you. “Tell me who hurt you, and I’ll make them pay.”
“Baby, you’re being melodramatic. It’s just a few bruises,” you deflected, avoiding his gaze. “I’ll survive.”
“Plus, it’s not like you can just go around punching everyone who hurts me,” you huffed, wincing as you tried to pull your hood back up. Damian scowled and yanked it down again.
“Yes, I can.”
“Oh my god,” you said, raising an eyebrow and trying to stifle a smile. “I hate you so much.”
Damian tightened his hold, his eyes flashing with irritation. “Our relationship status says otherwise. And I’m not letting go until I get answers.”
You squirmed in his embrace, attempting to free yourself, but he held you tightly. “Seriously, let go.”
“No.”
“You’re going to miss your first period.”
“And?”
“Your education will be in ruins.”
“Beloved, my GPA is already at a 5.0. I’ve been at the top of my class since junior high. Missing one period won’t ruin my future.”
You groaned and grabbed the nearest object—a mop. Raising it in a mock-threatening manner, you declared, “I’m seriously considering hitting you with this until you let me go.”
Damian gave a flat “Tch,” raising a hand to the metal handle. With a casual squeeze, he bent the metal in half effortlessly. You blinked.
Okay, that's a little annoying, but also super, super, super hot.
“Seriously? You’re showing off now?” you huffed, crossing your arms.
“Showing off?” Damian arched an eyebrow. “I’m merely proving a point.”
“I can handle myself!” you insisted, frustration creeping into your voice.
“Clearly,” he shot back, eyes narrowing. “That’s why you’re covered in cuts and bruises.”
“Fuck you,” you snapped, your irritation bubbling over.
“I would be delighted to,” Damian replied, his tone dripping with syrupy sweetness that was equal parts enticing and infuriating.
"Ugh!" you groaned, pulling the hood back over your face in a futile attempt to hide.
“Drop the theatrics and tell me what happened,” he sighed, tugging the hood back down. “I need to know so I can handle it.”
“I already handled it! I just need some rest, okay?” you retorted, rubbing a hand over your tired eyes. "I can fight my own battles, thank you very much."
Damian’s jaw tightened at your response, setting off alarm bells in his head. He’d need to dig deeper—because if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that you weren’t giving him the full story.
"You're not telling me everything," he said firmly. "But I’ll find out. I always do."
“Uh-huh, sure," you said, rolling your eyes as you grabbed him by the front of his uniform and yanked him closer. “You’re such a control freak, you know that?”
Damian scowled, leaning in until his forehead pressed against yours. “And you’re impossibly stubborn.”
“Yeah, well, you’re nosy.”
“Nosy?” He raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking. “I prefer the term thorough.”
“Right,” you said, barely holding back a laugh. You shook your head with a smile and leaned in, brushing your lips against his. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, honey.”
Damian’s eyes softened as he closed the distance between you. You melted into him, pulling him into a tender kiss. Damian hummed softly, the vibration tickling your lips and adding a cozy warmth to the moment. He kissed you again, and again, each one a little more affectionate than the last. Your laughter bubbled up, breathy and light, as you both got caught in a playful rhythm. His nose nudged against yours, and you couldn’t help but giggle.
The sudden ringing of the school bell cut through the moment.
“Mmph!” You pulled back slightly, a smile tugging at your lips as you gently stroked his cheek. “You… probably should get to class.”
It took a few more (okay, a lot more) minutes before Damian finally let you go. You practically had to wrestle your way out of his arms, like he was a kid clinging to a favorite toy. When you told him to go back to class instead of tagging along with you and Morgan, he sulked like a toddler.
Despite his stormy mood, you managed to convince him to head back. As you both stepped out of the closet, Damian trudged away with a grumble, throwing one last dramatic look over his shoulder.
“Behave yourself,” you laughed, waving him away before setting off to find Morgan.
When you finally spotted her by the entrance, she was holding up a flash drive like it was the Holy Grail. Meanwhile, you looked like you’d just been through a whirlwind: your hair was a tousled mess, your jacket was askew, and your tie was twisted at an odd angle.
“Got the goods?” you asked, breathless as you straightened your tie and smoothed down your messy hair.
“Yep,” Morgan said with a grin, her eyes darting to your state of disarray. “Damn. A janitor’s closet, huh? I see it got pretty heated in there.”
“Yeah, yeah,” you said, scoffing and giving her a kick to the shin. “Nothing happened, you ass. We were just talking. I had to practically wrestle my way out because he was going nuts over my injuries.”
Morgan chuckled, tucking the flash drive into her pocket. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full with him.”
You raised an eyebrow at her. "How did you know it was the janitor’s closet, anyway?"
“CCTV,” Morgan simply shrugged. “Was checking out the live feed for security. And I figured you two were up to something when I saw you both ducking out of the room. The system was laughably easy to hack into. I was honestly surprised.”
“You’re Tony Stark’s daughter,” you snarked. “Anything less than government-level encryption is basically child’s play for you.”
Morgan grinned. “True that. But there’s one tiny issue.” She raised a finger and twirled it in the air. “I might have tripped a few alarms.”
WEE-OWW-WEE-OWW!
The distant blare of sirens cut through the air, growing louder with each passing second. Red and blue lights began to flicker through the windows.
You stared at Morgan, incredulous.
“What. What the fuck!? What did you do?”
“Let’s just say security’s gonna be a bit more interested in our location now. Oopsie!” Morgan’s grin widened. “I had to shut down some things to avoid detection. So, the power’s going to go out in 3…2…1.”
As she finished her countdown, the lights flickered erratically before plunging the hallway into complete darkness. A heartbeat later, the wail of the announcement system cut through the silence, urgently repeating, “Please evacuate the building. Please evacuate immediately.” The strobing red emergency lights cast frantic shadows, and chaos erupted as students screamed, darting from classrooms and colliding in the dark.
Morgan spread her arms wide, a triumphant grin plastered across her face as if she’d just dropped a mic. “Boom.”
“What the hell about this screams ‘stealth’ to you?” you whisper-shouted, grabbing Morgan’s hand and pulling her toward the exit.
Morgan’s eyes gleamed with excitement as she squeezed your hand in return. "It’s way more fun this way."
You both sprinted down the dimly lit corridor, your footsteps echoing through the hallways and mingling with the blaring alarms.
Turning a corner, you nearly collided with a group of students stumbling through the chaos. Their faces were masks of panic. One of them tripped, sprawling onto the floor with an undignified thud.
“Watch it! Are you okay?” you shouted, skidding to a halt and kneeling to help the fallen student.
Morgan, unable to hold back, burst into laughter. “Dumbasses!”
You shot her a half-angry, half-exasperated look. “Just get us out of here before we get arrested for public disturbance!”
“Right behind you!” Morgan said, grabbing your hand again and pulling you both into a sprint. As you neared the exit, the muffled voices of security personnel grew louder, rushing to restore power. With one last burst of speed, you burst through the exit doors, the alarms fading into the distance.
Morgan looked over at you, her face glowing with sweat and a victorious grin. “And that’s how you make an exit.”
༻⊰───⋅
Friday - The Safehouse, Gotham City.
After your adrenaline-pumping escape and a bumpy ride across the city in an Uber that looked like it had seen better days—note to self: next time, cab— you finally made it back to the safehouse.
Morgan was already at the main table, surrounded by a chaotic sea of files and documents spread out across multiple screens. Her eyes were locked onto the flash drive she’d pulled from the school, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she sifted through the data.
A few steps away, you were hunched over a cluttered workbench in the tech area, surrounded by spools of web fluid and a mess of metal tools. The entire day had been spent tinkering, but finally, your whip project was coming together.
With a few final tweaks, you picked up the whip and gave it a few test swings.
You couldn’t help but think back to when you were a kid, watching Selina work her whip with that effortless skill. You’d sit in the corner of the training room, eyes wide, totally mesmerized. She made it look so easy, so natural. Inspired, you’d sneak off to your room after her sessions, grabbing whatever you could find—a belt, a rope, anything that even remotely resembled a whip. You’d slam the door behind you and practice in secret.
Sometimes you’d catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror—awkward, stumbling, and kind of a hot mess—but you didn’t give a damn. You’d keep at it, again and again, dead set on matching her skill, even if it meant looking like a total idiot in the process.
CRACK!
Morgan jumped, her chair spinning around as she stared at you with wide eyes. You couldn't help but grin as you sauntered toward her, twirling the whip around your body. The webbing swirled through the air, curving gracefully around you in a move straight out of Catwoman's playbook. With a final flourish, you cracked it down onto the floor, the sharp snap echoing through the room.
Morgan’s ears flushed red, and she shifted in her chair, clearly taken aback. “Woah. That’s hot as fuck.”
You laughed, tossing her a wink. “Glad you think so. I was channeling my inner Catwoman.”
Still a bit flustered, Morgan cleared her throat and extended her hand. You placed the whip into her palm, and she inspected it closely, her fingers tracing the intricate details of your craftsmanship.
“Seriously, though,” she said, looking up at you, “Where’d you learn to handle a whip like that?”
You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Just a little bit of practice, you know? I’ve had some pretty good teachers.”
Your gaze then shifted to her screen, where a file on Ivy's toxins was open. Charts, chemical structures, and old lab notes cluttered the display.
“Thought you were going through Octavius’ files?” you asked.
“Oh, I was," Morgan handed the whip back to you with a shrug.
"But then I stumbled on this.” She pointed at the screen. “Insane, right? Did you know Gotham University lets their Botany majors examine Ivy’s toxins? There are detailed reports from student lab projects—college students analyzing some seriously dangerous stuff. Who thinks that's a good idea?”
You arched an eyebrow. “It’s Gotham University. Top in the country. They probably consider it a rite of passage. It’s not like the city holds back on the bizarre.”
Morgan shook her head, her disbelief morphing into a bemused smile. “Seriously, though, it’s even in their chemistry curriculum. ‘Advanced Chemistry: How to Survive Ivy’s Toxins 101.’ Like, what kind of class is that?”
You chuckled. “Sounds like standard Gotham fare. The city has a way of turning even the most mundane academic subjects into survival skills.”
As you stared at the file, your mind drifted to Ivy—Pamela Isley, who had once been a big part of your life. Back when she was close with Selina, you even used to call her Aunt Isley. It felt right at the time, natural, given how much she was around.
One memory stood out: Ivy had to leave town, and she’d entrusted Selina with her beloved plants. You were just a kid, but you remember how excited you were to have Ivy’s vibrant greenery filling the place. Selina had promised to take good care of them, but… she forgot. Just plain forgot to water them.
When Ivy returned, the plants were withered and dead. For someone like Ivy—an eco-terrorist with a green thumb so legendary she could probably make a cactus bloom in a snowstorm—this was more than just a mistake. It felt like a betrayal.
The fallout was brutal. Ivy was livid, and Selina was wrecked. If you hadn’t been there to calm things down, Ivy might’ve strangled Selina with a vine on the spot.
Morgan sighed dramatically, pushing her chair back from the screen and stretching like a cat. "I’m so over these files," she announced, spinning around to face you with a mischievous glint in her eye. "We need to do something fun."
You raised an eyebrow, intrigued as she started navigating through a map on her command center. "What are you up to?"
"Finding us a little adventure," she replied, her grin widening as she zoomed in on a spot on the outskirts of Gotham. "Look at this—an old, supposedly abandoned greenhouse. Rumor has it, it’s still full of Ivy’s plants. We should go check it out."
You blinked, taken aback by the suggestion. "You want to go trespassing in an abandoned greenhouse filled with potentially dangerous plants?"
Morgan shrugged with a carefree grin. "Why not? It’s way more exciting than sitting here with these boring files. Besides, think of the intel we could gather! Maybe even some samples. If you're serious about this hero thing, having some cures on hand could be pretty useful."
You raised an eyebrow. "Last time I checked, my focus was on tech companies. Not plants."
Morgan leaned back in her chair, throwing her hands up. "C'mon, it’ll be fun! We could call it a ‘field trip’ for our mission."
You scoffed, but a smirk tugged at your lips as you grabbed your glasses. “I thought you were supposed to be the smart and responsible one among the two of us?”
Morgan shot you a playful smile as she grabbed her jacket. “Smart enough to know when we need a break.”
She slung her jacket over her shoulder with a casual flick. “And who knows? We might stumble into something interesting or at least have a hell of a time.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “Fine, but if this turns into a mess, you’re the one explaining it to Tony.”
“Deal,” Morgan grinned, heading toward the door. “Now let’s get out of here before I lose my mind.”
༻⊰───⋅
Saturday, 12:34 AM - Ivy's 'Abandoned' Warehouse, Gotham City.
The moon hung high in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the overgrown landscape as you swung through the rainy Gotham air. Raindrops pattered against your suit, mixing with the cool breeze as you guided both yourself and Morgan down toward the warehouse’s perimeter. You landed softly on the other side of the fence, the wet ground beneath you squelching slightly.
The warehouse loomed in the distance, shrouded in shadows and engulfed by a thick veil of greenery. Vines and creeping plants had swallowed the building, twisting their way up the walls and breaking through the broken windows. Shrubs and wild foliage sprawled across the once-smooth concrete, creating a tangled jungle that had overtaken the area.
You and Morgan navigated through the thick underbrush, your footsteps muffled by the lush carpet of foliage.
“Welcome to the jungle,” Morgan whispered, adjusting her glasses as raindrops collected on the lenses. She reached for a flashlight, flicking it on to cut through the gloomy darkness.
“Did you really have to pick the creepiest spot in Gotham?” you muttered, glancing around warily. Your spider senses buzzed faintly, a low hum that told you to stay alert, though you weren’t entirely sure what you should be on the lookout for.
As you approached the warehouse’s entrance, you noticed the heavy wooden doors were slightly ajar, propped open by a stubborn vine wedged in the gap. You took a few steps back, then charged at the door with all your might. It crashed inward with a resounding clang, sending splinters flying and the vine recoiling.
CLANG!
You kicked the door aside and stepped into a scene that looked like something straight out of a botanical horror movie. The interior of the warehouse was a riot of green. Hanging plants and tendrils formed a dense canopy overhead. The remnants of old plant pots and scientific equipment were half-buried under layers of creeping vines and moss.
“Keep your eyes peeled for anything useful,” you said, stepping inside.
The plan was simple: infiltrate the location, gather as much information as possible, and leave before anyone even noticed you were there.
Your boots squelched slightly on the damp ground as you made your way further into the labyrinth of greenery. Morgan followed close behind, her flashlight beam scanning the surroundings.
“Looks like she really made herself at home. Can’t believe she’d leave all these beauties behind,” she murmured.
After a few minutes of searching, you stumbled upon a makeshift lab tucked away in a corner of the warehouse. Old tables and shelves, now covered in a thick layer of dust and grime, held an assortment of glassware, old notebooks, and strange samples.
Morgan’s eyes lit up as she approached the lab. “This must be it! Look at all this stuff.”
Kneeling down, she began sifting through the clutter, her flashlight revealing dusty glassware, faded notebooks, and a variety of botanical samples in various states of preservation. She carefully picked up a few jars, examining the contents with growing fascination.
You stood guard by the door, senses on high alert. The slow hum of your spider senses gradually intensified, morphing into a persistent, almost blaring buzz in the back of your mind. It felt like a magnetic pull, drawing your focus to every flicker of shadow and rustle of the unseen.
Morgan, oblivious to your heightened alertness, was engrossed in a particularly worn notebook.
"This is so fucking cool," she said, her eyes wide with excitement. "Check out these notes—they look like they’re from Ivy’s earlier research. She was experimenting with ways to boost plant growth, mixing toxins, and even concocting some kind of antidote."
As Morgan continued to study the notebook, the buzzing in your senses grew stronger. You tensed, feeling a prickling chill race up your spine and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. There was something else in the warehouse—something you couldn’t immediately identify, but it was there.
“Morgan,” you said quietly. “I’m getting a bad feeling.”
Morgan looked up from her work, fingers curled around a test tube. “What do you mean?”
“Just keep your eyes open,” you warned, eyes narrowing as you scanned the shadows. “Start packing up and be quick. Something doesn’t feel right.”
Morgan’s fingers flew over the lab equipment as she grabbed several samples and shoved them into her bag. The air seemed to grow thicker, the plants rustling with an almost eerie liveliness.
!!!
“We need to go. Now!” you hissed, urgently grabbing Morgan and pulling her to her feet.
Morgan flinched but scrambled up, stuffing the worn notebook she’d found into her jacket. “Alright… let me just—”
Before she could finish, your spider senses exploded into a full-blown scream of warning.
DANGER.
“Get down!”
Without warning, you grabbed Morgan and pushed her down behind some crates, your suit beginning to uncloak.
A thick vine lashed out from the shadows, slamming into your side with a force that knocked the wind out of you. Pain exploded where the vine struck, radiating through your ribs as you skidded backward and crashed into a metal rack.
Your helmet hadn’t fully materialized in time, and the impact with the shelving unit sent a jarring shock through your skull, leaving you dazed and disoriented.
"A little spider has wandered into my web~"
Shit.
Warmth trickled down from your forehead where the impact had split the skin. With a shaky breath, you pushed yourself off the rack, using it for support as you steadied yourself.
"Hello, crazy plant lady," you quipped, your helmet materializing as the voice modulator kicked in.
You weren’t her estranged niece now; you were Nightcrawler, Gotham's latest hero.
From above, Ivy unfurled herself from the ceiling, smirking as she lounged on a sprawling leaf. Vines curled around her with languid grace, reacting to her slightest gesture as if extensions of her will.
"Ah, Gotham's newest little hero," Ivy's voice was a melodious yet chilling purr, her laughter echoing softly through the warehouse. "What brings you to my sanctuary?"
The slits in your mask narrowed as you drew your claws and unclipped your whip from your belt. Ivy’s eyes narrowed at the choice of weapons, a flicker of recognition in her gaze. She was clearly connecting the similarities between you and Catwoman.
"Oh, just swinging by to see what all the fuss is about. Heard you've been busy in Gotham."
Ivy's smile sharpened, a glint of admiration lighting up her emerald eyes.
"Hm. Spunk," she purred, hands moving to tangle in her hair. "I do appreciate that in my visitors."
Out of the corner of your visor, you spotted Morgan inching away. You gave her a discreet nod, signaling her to keep going while you kept your focus locked on Ivy.
"So, this place wasn’t as abandoned as I thought," you said, trying to keep Ivy talking and distracted. "For someone who supposedly retired from the spotlight, you sure know how to throw a party."
Ivy threw her head back and laughed. "Retired?" she repeated. "Oh, honey, you have no idea."
Around you, vines stirred, their sinewy tendrils snaking up your legs like snakes. Unfazed, you subtly shifted your weight, and then, with a swift slash of your claws, the vines split apart. You flipped away, slipping out of their grasp with ease.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice when my darlings are disturbed?” Ivy’s voice dripped with mockery. “Just when I finally manage to reclaim this space from concrete and steel, pests like you decide to get curious.”
“Look, I’ve got a busy schedule,” you quipped, narrowly dodging a lashing vine. “So how about we skip the tango and save us both a night of pain?”
“Oh, you’re simply delightful,” Ivy purred,sultry and chilling. “Very well, little spider. Let’s see if you can keep up.”
In a heartbeat, Ivy was in motion. Vines shot through the air like whips, each one aiming to entangle or strike. You sidestepped a thick vine that snapped past your ear and rolled under another that slammed into the floor where you’d just been. Your senses were on fire.
Beep!
In the corner of your visor, Morgan’s face flickered into view—a welcome sight amid the chaos. The camera feed was shaky, but you could make out her anxious expression as she huddled behind a stack of crates, her phone clutched tightly in her hand.
“Are you okay?” you hissed through the comms, trying to keep your voice steady despite the whirlwind of vines around you.
“M Outside! Sorry! I…I didn’t realize Ivy was here!” Morgan said, her voice tinged with panic. “I thought this place was a total ghost town!”
“Apologize later!” you shouted back, ducking a swinging vine. “Just stay out of sight. I’ll catch up with you once I deal with the plant lady!”
With a quick flip, you barely managed to dodge another flurry of whipping vines. You drew back your whip and snapped it towards the incoming tendrils, slicing through them.
Ivy scowled, her eyes narrowing as she watched her plants get cut down. She retaliated, sending a fresh wave of vines hurtling toward you.
You dodged and weaved, the thick, green tendrils brushing against your suit. Each crack of your whip was followed by a sharp hiss of defeated foliage.
You charged through, ducking and weaving to avoid the onslaught. When you were close enough, you landed a solid left hook to Ivy’s face, the impact echoing with a satisfying thud. Ivy’s head snapped back with a sharp yelp of pain. You laughed, not giving her a moment to regroup, and threw another punch straight to her jaw.
JAB!
“Had enough, or should I keep going?” you taunted.
Ivy’s eyes flared with rage. “You little—”
Leaping onto a stack of crates to dodge another lash from her vines, you shot a web at Ivy. The sticky strands wrapped around her wrists, pinning her securely against a nearby support beam.
Ivy struggled against the webbing, her vines twitched with agitation as they lashed out. You kept your whip and claws at the ready, prepared for any sudden moves.
“Alright, listen up,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Unless you want more of your precious plants turned into mulch, I suggest you calm down.”
“Calm down?” Ivy hissed, her frustration barely contained. “You’re the intruder here, desecrating my sanctuary. I won’t tolerate this!”
You took a deep breath, trying to defuse the situation. “Look, I’m really sorry about the intrusion. Didn’t mean to step on your botanical toes. We were just here to explore—”
“Explore?” Ivy’s brow shot up. “Is that why your friend took of my vials and papers?”
You stared at her, blinking a few times. Then, with a sheepish shrug, you said, “Okay, to be fair, you left that stuff lying around. It kind of looked like it was up for grabs. Plus, we didn’t exactly see a ‘Keep Out’ sign.”
“So, it’s a case of ‘finders keepers,’ then?” she scowled. “And here I thought you were a little more refined than that.”
“Hey!” you said, walking towards her until you were just a foot away. “I’m just calling it like I see it, lady. Maybe if you knew how to clean up, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
Ivy tossed her hair over her shoulder, the golden-orange strands cascading like vines down her back. She leaned closer, her lips brushing against your jaw, her breath warm and tantalizing against your skin.
“Well, if you’re so keen on exploring,” she purred, her voice a sultry whisper, “I could show you something that’ll really satisfy your curiosity.”
!!!
Your spider senses flared with urgent warnings, but before you could react, Ivy thrust a slender vine beneath the edge of your helmet. In an instant, a cloud of pollen erupted inside your mask, catching you completely off guard. You gasped and choked, stumbling backward as your vision blurred and your nose was overwhelmed by the suffocating, heady scent of the pollen.
Your visor’s alarms blared, vitals flashing urgently:
TOXIN DETECTED.
“Damn it,” you grimaced as a searing heat began to radiate through your skin and bones. The prickling sensation quickly escalated into an intense burn, making it feel like your blood was boiling beneath your skin.
“Morgan!” you called out. “Find me an escape route, now!”
"Underestimated me?" Ivy cackled. "Thought you could resist my charms, did you?"
Morgan’s shaky voice crackled through the comms. “I’m searching for a way out! Just hang in there!”
“Oh, you won’t be escaping that easily,” Ivy sneered at you, still trapped in your webs. Despite her restraints, her vines writhed and twisted with a life of their own. “This is my domain, and you’re not leaving until I say so.”
You gritted your teeth, struggling against the searing pain as the vines inched closer. “Alright, I’m really sorry for this, but I’m done playing nice.”
With a sharp flick of your wrist, you shot a web at a vase perched precariously on a high shelf. The vase tumbled through the air and crashed down onto Ivy’s head, shattering into a shower of shards and a splash of crimson.
Ivy screamed as the shards rained down, a flurry of leaves and flowers cascading over her head and shoulders, momentarily obscuring her vision.
Morgan's face reappeared on your visor, her brow furrowed with worry. “There’s a clear window—no vines blocking it! Hurry! I marked it on your map!”
Glancing at the map in your visor, you spotted the indicated window.
"This was nice, but I’ve got places to be and people to save," you heaved, your voice breathy as you kicked away a lashing vine. "So if you don’t mind, I'll be taking my leave."
THWIP.
Launching yourself through the open window, you felt the cool, rain-soaked Gotham air slap your face as you soared into the night. The roar of the storm and the distant hum of the city below filled your senses. Behind you, Ivy’s furious shouts pierced through the downpour, her curses mingling with the crack of thrashing vines slamming against the walls.
“PEST!”
༻⊰───⋅
Saturday, 1:05 AM - Crime Alley, Gotham City.
"Robin, status?" Oracle's voice beeped in from Damian's earpiece.
Damian was perched on a rooftop, jade eyes scanning the dark expanse of Crime Alley below. The rain poured down in relentless sheets, the cold droplets cascading off the edges of his hood and dripping onto his shoulders.
From his vantage point, he could see the dilapidated buildings lining Crime Alley, their broken windows and graffiti-covered walls illuminated by the sporadic flashes of lightning. The streets below were deserted, the few brave souls out in the storm moving quickly, their faces obscured by umbrellas and hoods. Puddles formed in the uneven pavement, reflecting the occasional flicker of streetlights.
He lifted a gloved hand to his communication device, the wet leather squeaking slightly against the earpiece.
"I'm in my usual position," he reported, his voice steady. "No sign of activity. Just monitoring. Slow night."
"Figured," Nightwing's voice spoke up. "There is a storm."
“Ishth Gotham,” Jason's voice chimed in, muffled as if he was chewing something. “When isn’t there a storm?”
"Are you eating right now?" Tim's voice squeaked with disbelief, the sound sharp and incredulous over the comms. "Again? Really?"
"Yeah?" Jason retorted, taking another bite of whatever he was munching on. "A guy's gotta eat. Maybe if you actually ate more, you wouldn’t be so scrawny, Timberland."
"I'm fit!" Tim snapped back, voice cracking. "And can you please stop using my name? We have codenames for a reason."
"You're the genius who called yourself 'Drake'," Damian scoffed as he kept his eyes trained on the rain-soaked expanse below.
"Demon brat's got a point," Jason drawled, the sound of him slurping a drink faintly audible over the comms. "Harley still calls you Duck-Boy."
"Just focus on the job," Nightwing interjected, his voice slicing through the bickering with an authoritative edge. "Tonight’s a washout. Red Robin and I are on patrol near the docks. We’ve encountered a few low-level crooks, but nothing major."
"Alright," Oracle’s voice came through again. "Stay on high alert. Let me know if anything changes."
As the comms went silent, Damian pulled out his phone, the screen lighting up against the storm's backdrop. For a fleeting moment, his stoic expression softened. A nearly imperceptible smile tugged at his lips as he glanced at the lock screen—a picture of you, warm and content in one of his shirts, your face framed by tousled hair and a genuine smile.
He noted the time—1:05 AM. Given your unpredictable sleep patterns, you were likely still awake. Damian's finger hovered over the screen, caught between sending a quick message or making a call. But before he could decide, a sharp gust of wind swept across the rooftop, making his cape snap and sending a chill through his soaked uniform.
He slipped the phone back into his belt, shook off the cold, and refocused on the scene below. His eyes scanned the shadowy expanse: dark alleys, rain-slicked roads, and flickering, rusting shop signs.
Then, a sudden, unexpected movement shattered the monotony. A flash of red and white streaked across the skyline, its vibrant colors stark against the darkened sky. A web shot out, glinting briefly in the intermittent lightning before anchoring itself to a nearby building.
THWIP.
There was a pause.
Damian’s lips curled into a sharp snarl. His fingers tightened around the grip of his grappling gun, his mind shifting into high gear. With a scowl, he tapped his earpiece.
“Oracle,” Damian began, boots crunching as he moved to the edge of the rooftop. “I have visual on the spider vigilante. Engaging in pursuit.”
Without waiting for a reply, he fired the grappling gun. The line shot through the air with a metallic twang, slicing through the rain-soaked night. He felt the jolt as the grappling hook latched onto a distant anchor, pulling him forward.
As he swung through the storm, a fierce thrill coursed through him, like a bird unleashed with new wings. With the city sprawled out beneath him and the rain pelting against his face, Robin was ready to do what he did best.
Hunt.
༻⊰───⋅
"It's going to take hours to get this smell out of my suit," you heaved, wrinkling your nose as you fired a web into the distant skyline. The line stuck firmly to a building, and with a jarring lurch, you swung deeper into the city.
Morgan clung to you for dear life, her voice barely audible over the rush of air. “Not the time to worry about laundry! Focus on not crashing into something! And maybe on not dying from the poison?!”
"Hey, I’m just saying," you shot back with a strained chuckle, “if I survive this, I’m gonna need to have this suit professionally cleaned.”
Morgan’s grip tightened, and she shouted, “Survive first, clean later!"
With a yank of your web, you aimed for the next rooftop, but as you hurtled through the air, you realized that you’d miscalculated the distance. The rooftop was rushing in too fast, and panic surged through you like ice.
Your stomach lurched, and in a split-second decision, you threw Morgan forward, trying to cushion her fall. She landed with a thud, a breathless gasp escaping her as she hit the roof.
You, however, weren’t so fortunate. Your foot snagged the edge of the roof awkwardly, sending a sharp pain shooting up your leg.
CRACK.
The sickening crack of bone snapping echoed through the air as your ankle twisted violently. The force of the impact jolted your entire body, sending you sprawling onto the rough, gravelly rooftop.
“Great…” you muttered through gritted teeth, struggling to push yourself up onto your hands and knees. Your body felt like it was on fire from the inside out, the toxin’s effects amplifying the pain with each passing second.
You bit down hard on your tongue, the metallic taste of blood bubbling into your mouth. You fought to keep yourself upright, but your legs felt like lead, and you crumpled onto the rooftop, unable to fully bear your weight.
“Shit!” Morgan scrambled to her feet, her face a mask of panic and concern. “Are you okay? What happened?”
"Just… a little off target," you panted, wincing as you assessed the damage. Your visor had taken a hit during the fall, causing the data to flicker erratically. Through the static, you could still make out the crucial info: a broken bone.
“It's fine… Just a broken ankle,” you added, trying to maintain your composure despite the sluggishness creeping into your movements.
“You’re getting brain fog and dizziness,” Morgan said urgently, her fingers flipping through the notebook she’d snatched earlier. “It’s a side effect of the toxin. We need to get you to the safehouse—”
Before she could finish, you shook your head with a groan. “No. You call a cab and head there. I’ll swing.”
“Are you insane?!” Morgan nearly shouted, grabbing your arm in panic. “You can barely stand, let alone swing through the city! We need to get you help, now!”
You pushed her away, trying to ignore the throbbing in your ankle. “It’s not like I have much of a choice. The suit’s tampered, I think. Look.”
You attempted to uncloack, but the metal sputtered and glitched erratically. “See? I can’t uncloack. If you’re seen with me, they’ll find us out in no time. I can’t risk that.”
Morgan’s eyes darted between you and the malfunctioning suit, her face a mix of worry and frustration. “This is all my fault. I’m so sorry. I should have—”
“Stop,” you cut her off, wincing as the pain intensified. “It’s not your fault. Just get to the safehouse. I’ll manage.”
Tears of frustration welled up in Morgan’s eyes. “I can’t just leave you like this!”
“You don’t have a choice,” you said firmly, trying to steady your voice. “If we’re both caught, it’ll be worse. Now go! I’ll be fine.”
With one last, apologetic glance, Morgan pulled out her phone and dialed for a cab, her hands trembling.
༻⊰───⋅
Damian, concealed in the shadows of the rooftop, landed with a muted thud. He crouched behind the crumbling ledge of an old brick wall, the slits in his mask narrowing as he took in the scene unfolding just a few feet away.
He watched as you struggled to regain your footing, your movements pained and uneven. The girl beside you—her rain-soaked silhouette a blur against the storm—was clearly in a panic, her phone clutched tightly as she fumbled with it.
‘A civilian,’ Damian thought, frustration lining his features. Launching a direct attack now would be reckless. He had to be certain the vigilante was genuinely on their own before making a move.
After a tense moment, the girl finally moved and dashed down the fire escape, her figure barely visible through the downpour. Damian squinted through the sheets of rain, straining to catch a glimpse of her features, but the storm blurred his view into an indistinct smear of color and motion.
The moment she was out of sight, his attention snapped back to you. You took a deep, ragged breath, bracing yourself. Then, with a sudden burst of movement, you launched yourself into the night.
Damian followed, his movements fluid and precise as he pushed off from the ledge. His cape billowed behind him like a dark, flowing banner, and he darted into the storm.
Below, the streets were a chaotic blur of honking horns and glaring headlights, their harsh lights slicing through the darkness like knives. Heavy sheets of rain hammered down, obscuring your vision and drenching you to the bone. Water seeped through the cracks in your suit, each drop feeling like an icy needle against your overheated, feverish skin.
The sensations were overwhelming. It was too much. The pain, the heat, the storm—it was all too much.
Your breath came in ragged gasps, every inhale bringing more of Ivy’s insidious toxin into your lungs.
In one desperate swing, you miscalculated the web’s trajectory. It shot out too low, sending you plummeting uncontrollably below.
Cursing through gritted teeth, you were hurled down into traffic. Everything was a blur as you slammed into the side of a car, metal denting and screams deafening your ears. Your shoulder bore the brunt of the collision, sending shockwaves of pain through your bones.
For a brief, suspended moment, everything went dark.
A cold, mechanical voice sliced through the void, its tone harsh and insistent. Maggie’s synthetic voice, though devoid of human warmth, was tinged with urgency.
“Immediate response required. Vitals are critically low. Consciousness levels decreasing. Current status is life-threatening. Please respond.”
Abruptly, your senses snapped back into sharp focus. You jolted awake with a ragged gasp, your breath coming in frantic bursts. Your vision was a fractured mosaic of blinding lights and shadowy figures. The sounds of blaring horns and panicked shouts crashed back into your ears, tires screeching all around you.
Morgan’s voice crackled through the static, panic evident in her tone. “I’m at the safehouse! Where are you? I couldn't reach you! What’s going on?”
“Change of plans,” you managed, your voice strained. “I won’t make it to the safehouse in time.”
You tapped the side of your visor, making a map flicker to life through the cracks and glitches. The display was unstable, but it highlighted a route to your apartment.
“You know where my mom's apartment is, right?” you heaved. “That’s where I’m heading.”
Entering your apartment was risky, but with your condition worsening and death looming, it was the closest refuge you could manage.
Damian, hidden in the alleyway, watched you with a furrowed brow. What he initially wrote off as rookie mistakes now seemed out of character. Your disoriented movements were starkly different from the precise maneuvers he had seen in news footage and CCTV feeds. He had been tracking your case closely, and this chaos didn't match the profile he had built.
He watched as you struggled to stand, your legs shaking with each attempt. The driver's shouts were drowned out by the storm of noise around you. Your strained apologies were barely audible. Desperation marked your actions as you fired another web, using it to pull yourself up and away from the wrecked car and the angry crowd.
Damian cursed under his breath and quickly took off after you.
He tracked your erratic path through twisted, narrow streets until he saw you aim for an apartment building. With a quick stretch of your arm, you shot a web toward a balcony, but your aim was off again.
Another sloppily thrown web sent you slamming into the windows of the apartment. The metal edge dug into your ribs with brutal force, knocking the wind out of you. You gasped, your lungs burning as you struggled to draw in air. Pain radiated from your side, and shards of glass sprayed everywhere.
Damian, perched on the rooftop across the street, stared in disbelief. This was Catwoman’s apartment—Selina Kyle’s. The worst possible scenario unfolded in his mind. To him, it looked like a break-in. His jaw clenched tightly, and his fingers gripped the edge of his grappling gun, knuckles whitening with the force of his anger.
Pest.
Without hesitation, Damian leapt into action. He aimed for the fire escape with single-minded intensity, propelling himself toward it with a powerful thrust. His boots hammered against the metal steps, causing them to buckle and the entire structure to groan and rattle under the force of his descent.
In the corner of his eye, he saw your figure slip into the window.
Tunnel-visioned and driven by a surge of protectiveness, Damian kicked the door to the fire escape open, the metal panel scraping roughly across the floor. His father would have his head for causing unnecessary public damage—something Robin was frequently under fire for—but at that moment, he couldn't have cared less.
"Was that a crash?!" Nightwing's voice crackled through the comm line.
"I think it's coming from demon brat's side. What's the report, squirt?"
Damian merely growled in response as he began to stalk down the hallway. His tall figure, cloaked in shadows, cast long, dark lines across the floor as he moved. He cracked his knuckles, the sound sharp and menacing over the comms.
"Someone's about to learn the price of crossing me."
༻⊰───⋅
Dazed and disoriented, you slipped into the building, the rough edge of the window scraping against your battered body. As you tumbled through your apartment, you hit the floor with a heavy thud, the impact shaking your entire frame. Your head struck the ground with a thump, stars exploding in your vision.
For a brief, haunting moment, there was silence—deep, oppressive silence. Then, a cold, creeping dread slithered through you.
You clawed at the floor, your body shaking.
"Mom? Mom, please! I need you!" Your voice cracked, a raw, fear seeping through every syllable. "Mom, are you there? Please, help me!"
Tears streamed down your face, mingling with the sweat and blood as you cried out into the empty, echoing apartment. The lights were off, casting the space into a suffocating darkness that seemed to press in on you.
Desperately, you stumbled into Selina’s bedroom. Your heart sank as you noticed the absence of her suit—no sleek, black leather or whip. She must have been out on patrol.
A deafening crash shattered the silence as the apartment door was ripped from its hinges. Before you could fully react, a rough hand clamped down on you, throwing you to the floor.
Your vision blurred in and out of focus as you were pinned to the floor. A heavy foot pressed mercilessly against your chest, crushing your ribs with every breath. The weight lifted, then slammed down again, ripping through your suit with a sickening crunch. The suit uncloaked, its torn pieces clinging to your clothes, leaving you exposed in just your undershirt and pants.
Through the dim, flickering light, the outline of your attacker became clearer. A katana was unsheathed with a chilling rasp, its cold blade pressed menacingly against your neck. The steel gleamed ominously, catching the sparse light and reflecting a deadly shimmer. The edge was so close you could feel its icy touch, a mere breath away from slicing into your flesh.
The thought of that forced you to tilt your head back, exposing more of your neck to the shadowy figure looming over you.
Tall and imposing, the figure was clad in grey and black armor, with a black cape flowing behind them. A red emblem, unmistakably the symbol of an R, was stitched onto their chest.
A cold realization cut through the fog of pain and fear—Robin?
<- PREVIOUS | NEXT ->
༻⊰───⋅
dundunDUN
whatchu think bookiebears
surely the batfam will handle this well
#damian wayne x reader#damian wayne#batfamily#dc robin#damian wayne al ghul#damian wayne imagine#selina kyle#bruce wayne#batman
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Between Sets and Scenes
SUMMARY: As a dedicated personal trainer in Washington D.C., you've worked with high-profile clients before, but when actor Glen Powell steps into your gym, life takes an unexpected turn. What starts as a simple fitness transformation for Glen quickly evolves into something more when the lines between professionalism and attraction begin to blur. A chance encounter outside the gym leads to late-night conversations, unexpected connections, and the realization that sometimes the best chemistry happens off-screen. But with Glen's rising star and your grounded life, can you keep things casual, or is something deeper already taking shape?
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to the Anon who sent the request for this in! I hope you enjoy it!
WARNINGS: None.
WORD COUNT: 5.8K
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The familiar ping of your inbox echoed through your office as you finished typing up a nutrition plan for one of your long-term clients. Leaning back in your chair, you took a sip of your water, already mentally preparing yourself for the evening rush at the gym. It was mid-spring, the time of year when everyone suddenly remembered they had vacations or summer plans that required them to get into shape. Your calendar was filling up fast, but you thrived in the chaos.
As you clicked through your unread emails, one subject line caught your eye.
Transfer Client: Glen Powell – Ultimate Performance, Los Angeles.
Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. Glen Powell? As in the Glen Powell—actor, movie star, all-around charmer? You quickly opened the email, skimming through the details.
Eddie here, from the L.A. branch. We’ve got a transfer for you—our client, Glen Powell. He’s been working with us for a while, getting in shape for a bunch of his previous roles. Glen’s a solid guy, no diva attitude, but he’s wrapping up filming in D.C. and needs a few weeks of training before his next project. Figured you’d be the best person for the job.
I’ve attached his info and previous programs. Let me know if you need anything else, but honestly, Glen’s a hard worker. You shouldn’t have any problems.
Just, uh, maybe keep an eye on the tequila intake.
Cheers,Eddie
You chuckled at the tequila comment but focused on the rest of the email. This was definitely an unexpected assignment, but you were more intrigued than overwhelmed. A high-profile client like Glen meant there was a level of professionalism and discretion required, but you had handled demanding clients before. Glen Powell would be no different… right?
Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it might be worth getting a bit more insight from Eddie before you met with Glen. He’d worked with Glen before and could offer valuable information that a few attached files couldn’t convey. You reached for your phone, quickly dialing Eddie's number. After a couple of rings, the line connected, and Eddie’s laid-back demeanor and accent came through.
“Hey! I had a feeling you’d call.”
You laughed softly, leaning back in your chair. “I couldn’t resist. Glen Powell, huh? Big name. I wanted to get some inside scoop on him before I officially start working with him.”
“Totally understandable,” Eddie replied. “Glen’s honestly one of the easiest clients we’ve had. No diva behavior, no slacking off. He shows up, puts in the work, and follows the plan.”
“That’s good to hear,” you said, relieved. “Anything in particular I should keep an eye out for? You mentioned the tequila?”
Eddie chuckled on the other end of the line. “Yeah, man loves his tequila. It’s the only food from our restricted list he really ever eats. He’s not gonna go overboard, but just be aware that he likes to unwind with a drink now and then. He’s been keeping up with his workouts since our last session, so he’s not starting from scratch.”
“So he’s already in pretty good shape?”
“Definitely,” Eddie confirmed. “He looks great, but he’s looking to tighten up for this rom-com he’s shooting soon. Wants to get that beach body look, you know? He’s got a few areas he wants to tone up, but overall, you’re just fine-tuning.”
You made a few notes as Eddie spoke, already thinking of some adjustments you could make to Glen’s program to push him toward his goals. “Got it. Anything else I should know about his routine?”
“He sticks to his meal plans pretty well. I mean, the guy’s a professional at this point. You’ll probably notice he doesn’t need a lot of hand-holding. But don’t be afraid to push him—he responds well to a challenge.”
You nodded, appreciating the insight. “Thanks, Eddie. I’m excited to get started with him.”
“You’ll do great. Just keep it fun, keep him motivated, and I’m sure you two will get along fine.”
After wrapping up the call with Eddie, you hung up and set your phone down, staring at Glen’s profile on your screen. This wasn’t just a regular client. This was Glen Powell—known for his charm, his dedication to his craft, and apparently, his love for tequila.
With a deep breath, you stood up and stretched. Time to prepare for tomorrow, when you’d officially meet your new high-profile client. You had a feeling this wouldn’t be your typical training session, but you were ready to rise to the challenge.
A week had passed since your conversation with Eddie, and you’d spent the time crafting the perfect workout plan for Glen. He didn’t need a complete overhaul, just some fine-tuning to get him into peak shape for his upcoming role.
Now, sitting at the front desk of the gym, you were watching the clock, knowing Glen would be arriving any minute.
The gym was quieter than usual—late morning hours had a way of lulling the space into a calm before the after-work crowd flooded in. You glanced over at the door, almost on instinct, when the bell chimed. And there he was.
Glen Powell.
He strolled in with that signature effortless charm, his stride confident but relaxed. His black t-shirt stretched over his broad shoulders, and his black athletic shorts showed off his toned legs. A baseball cap turned backward, completed the look. Even with his casual attire, he had an undeniable presence.
You stood up from the desk, offering him a smile. “You must be Glen.”
His grin matched yours as he walked up to you, extending a hand. “That’s me. And you must be [Your Name], right?”
You nodded, shaking his hand. His grip was firm, and warm—just as you’d expected. “That’s right. Good to meet you in person.”
“Likewise,” he said, his eyes scanning the gym behind you for a moment before settling back on you. “Eddie’s told me great things about you.”
“Oh, did he?” you laughed softly, appreciating the compliment. “He said some pretty good things about you too.”
Glen chuckled, shaking his head with a mock-serious look. “Well, I hope I live up to the hype.”
“I’m sure you will,” you replied, motioning toward the gym’s main floor. “Ready to get started?”
His smile widened, and he adjusted the strap of the duffel bag slung over his shoulder. “Absolutely. Let’s do this.”
You led him toward a quieter corner of the gym where you had the session planned out. “So, Eddie filled me in on what you’ve been up to, but I’d like to hear from you. What’s your goal for these next few weeks?”
As Glen set his bag down, he glanced around at the equipment before turning his focus back to you. “I’ve been trying to keep up with my workouts, but this next role has a lot of, uh... shirtless scenes.” He laughed lightly, a hint of self-deprecation in his tone. “I want to lean out a bit more, just tighten everything up.”
You nodded, pulling up his customized workout plan on your tablet. “I’ve got just the thing for you. We’ll be focusing on toning your core, arms, and legs—nothing too extreme, but enough to get you where you need to be before filming starts.”
Glen leaned over slightly to glance at the plan, nodding in approval. “Looks good. You’ve got me doing some heavy lifts, huh?”
You smiled, sensing his enthusiasm. “I do. But don’t worry—I’ll make sure to push you without burning you out.”
He chuckled, clearly ready to dive in, but before you moved toward the weights, you stopped him with a quick smile. “Before we get started, though, I need to take some baseline measurements.”
Glen raised an eyebrow, still smiling. “Measurements?”
You nodded, setting the tablet down. “Yeah, just so I can document your progress over the next four weeks. It'll help us both see how far you’ve come when you’re a couple weeks in, especially if you’re aiming to get more toned.”
“Fair enough,” Glen said, stepping back as you grabbed a tape measure from your desk. “You’re the boss.”
He stood still, arms slightly raised as you started taking the first measurement around his chest. You worked quickly, not making it awkward, but there was no denying the closeness as you measured his biceps next.
“Okay, now your waist,” you said, dropping to one knee to wrap the tape measure around his torso.
Glen chuckled lightly, the sound relaxed. “This part’s always the most nerve-wracking, isn’t it?”
You laughed softly in return. “It’s not that bad. Besides, you’re already in great shape. This is just to see how much progress you make in the next few weeks.”
“You say that now,” he joked, but the smile he flashed was playful, clearly at ease with the process.
After finishing his waist measurement, you stepped back and jotted down the numbers. “All set. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Glen shook his head, still smiling. “I’ve survived worse.”
“Well, I’ll be making sure to push you just enough to keep it interesting.” You gave him a grin as you set aside the tape measure and picked up your tablet again, ready to log the details. “Alright, now we’re ready. Let’s get started.”
As you both headed toward the weights area, you couldn’t help but notice the ease with which Glen navigated the gym. He wasn’t just a celebrity going through the motions—he was here to work. And something about his grounded, no-nonsense attitude put you at ease, too.
“So,” Glen said, stretching out his arms before reaching for a dumbbell, “how long have you been with Ultimate Performance?”
“About five years now. I started as an intern after getting my degree in sports science, then worked my way up. Now I’m doing personal training full-time.”
“Five years,” he said with a nod, looking impressed. “That’s awesome. I’ve only heard good things about this place.”
“Glad to hear it,” you replied, as you both moved through the warm-up. “And since we’re talking about that—Eddie warned me about your... tequila habits.”
Glen laughed, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Ah, yeah. Guilty. But I promise to keep it in check.”
“Good to know,” you said, smiling as you moved into the first set of exercises. “As long as you put in the work like Eddie says you do, I’ll let you have a cheat day here and there.”
His grin didn’t falter, but his focus shifted, now locked in as he began his first round of squats. You observed his form, making minor adjustments here and there, impressed by his natural athleticism.
It wasn’t long before the playful back-and-forth gave way to the steady rhythm of the workout, Glen pushing himself with the same dedication Eddie had spoken so highly of.
By the time you moved to the free weights, his shirt was damp with sweat, but he never complained or asked to slow down. Glen had a drive that reminded you why you loved working with serious clients—it wasn’t just about the physical change. It was the discipline, the effort, the focus. And Glen had all of that.
By the time you got to the final set of exercises, Glen was visibly feeling the burn. His breathing had picked up, and beads of sweat glistened on his forehead. You couldn't help but admire how hard he was working, despite the intensity.
As Glen set the weights down after his last set of deadlifts, he straightened up and wiped his brow with the back of his hand, flashing you a tired but amused smile. “You weren’t kidding about this workout plan. You sure you’re not taking it easy on me?”
You laughed softly, meeting his gaze. “Taking it easy doesn’t get results.”
Glen chuckled, shaking his head as he caught his breath. “Guess I can’t argue with that logic.” He placed his hands on his hips, still winded but clearly impressed. “I’ll be feeling this tomorrow, won’t I?”
“Probably,” you admitted with a grin. “But that just means you’re making progress. A little soreness is good—it’s how you know your muscles are working.”
“Good to know,” Glen replied with a smirk. “I’ll remind myself of that when I can’t walk tomorrow.”
You shook your head, amused by his playful banter. “You’ll be fine. We’ll take it day by day, and by the end of this, you’ll be in even better shape than you were before.”
He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Better than before, huh?”
You shrugged confidently. “That’s the goal.”
Glen flashed you a grin, wiping down the equipment as he finished cooling down. “Alright then, Coach. I’ll trust you to get me there.”
* * * *
It was one of those weekends where you finally had a moment to breathe. You’d been pushing through long days at the gym, so a girls' night out was exactly what you needed. The bar was buzzing with energy—packed enough to feel lively but not too crowded. You sipped your drink, laughing with your friends as the music pulsed in the background.
A larger group walked in, but you barely glanced their way, too caught up in the conversation at your table. Washington D.C. was always filled with all types, so it wasn’t unusual for new faces to pass through. But after a while, you noticed your friends exchanging glances, their eyes darting toward the bar.
“What?” you asked, curious about what had captured their attention.
Your friend leaned closer, her voice barely a whisper as she nodded toward the bar. “Isn’t that...?”
You turned your head, following their gaze—and there he was. Glen Powell. Standing at the bar, his familiar smile in place as he chatted with the bartender. He looked effortlessly casual, wearing a simple grey t-shirt and dark jeans, blending in with the crowd in a way only someone like him could. He seemed completely relaxed, enjoying his night off with a group of friends or maybe coworkers, a drink in hand.
Your heart skipped for a moment, but you quickly dismissed the thought. He was a client, nothing more. It wasn’t unusual for him to be out, enjoying himself. You took a sip of your drink, willing yourself not to think too much about it.
But as the night went on, you found your drink dwindling, and you knew you’d need a refill soon. “I’m gonna grab another drink,” you said to your friends, sliding out of the booth.
As you approached the bar, you felt the press of the crowd around you. You waved at the bartender, but before you could place your order, you heard a voice behind you.
“Should I be worried about my trainer drinking on a weekend?”
You turned, and there was Glen, standing beside you with a teasing smile. His eyes were bright with amusement, and the corner of his mouth tugged into a grin that you couldn’t help but mirror.
You raised your glass in a playful toast. “I’m off-duty,” you said with a smirk. “Besides, I’m not the one who needs to watch their tequila intake, remember?”
Glen laughed, leaning slightly closer as if the conversation was just between the two of you. “You caught me.” He glanced at the glass in his hand and then back at you. “I’ll take it easy. Don’t want you to give me a lecture at the gym on Monday.”
You chuckled, taking a sip of your drink. “I’m not that bad, am I?”
“Nah,” he replied, his voice warm. “But you don’t go easy on me, that’s for sure.” He glanced down at your glass. “Looks like you’re due for a refill though. Mind if I grab that one for you?”
It was an offer so casual, so easy, that for a second you almost forgot the circumstances—he was your client, after all. But his tone was friendly, his expression open and relaxed, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
“Only if it’s not tequila,” you teased, narrowing your eyes at him with a playful grin.
He laughed again, lifting his hands in mock surrender. “Deal. I’ll stick to something that won’t get me in trouble with my trainer.”
You smiled, and before you could even protest, Glen signaled the bartender. “Another for her, and I’ll take one too,” he said, his voice smooth but casual, as though he wasn’t really paying for your drink but just sharing in a moment.
The bartender moved efficiently, and within seconds, two fresh glasses were placed in front of you. You picked up yours, the coolness of the glass meeting your hand as you glanced up at him. “You didn’t have to do that.”
He shrugged, that easy grin still in place. “I figured it might soften the blow when you destroy me in the gym next week.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “Oh, so you’re buttering me up now?”
“Is it working?”
The way he said it, with just the right mix of playfulness and charm, had you smiling despite yourself. He wasn’t being pushy, wasn’t crossing any lines—just having fun with the moment.
You took a sip of your drink, the cool liquid refreshing after the heat of the crowded bar. “I’m still going to push you hard on Monday, just so you know.”
“Good,” he replied, leaning in slightly, his voice lowering just enough to feel like a secret between the two of you. “Taking it easy doesn’t get results, right?”
You couldn’t help but smirk at his words, recognizing your own mantra being thrown back at you. “Exactly.”
For a moment, the noise of the bar seemed to fade into the background as you stood there with Glen, the conversation flowing easily, as if you were just two people sharing a drink rather than client and trainer.
“So, is this your usual spot?” Glen asked, leaning an elbow on the bar as he turned his full attention to you.
“Not really,” you admitted. “It’s more of an impromptu girls' night kind of thing. What about you? Out with friends?”
“Yeah, wrapping up a long week of filming,” he said, motioning toward the group in the back. “Figured we’d blow off some steam before the craziness starts up again next week.”
You nodded, understanding. “Well, you deserve it. Just don’t go overboard. I don’t want to have to kick your ass on Monday for drinking too much.”
He grinned, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I’ll try to keep it under control, but no promises.”
“Noted,” you said with a smirk, the comfortable rhythm of the conversation settling between you both. There was something almost effortless about it—just enough teasing to keep it fun, but not too much to cross the line into anything more than friendly banter.
Still, as you stood there at the bar with Glen, the energy around you shifting just slightly, it was hard to ignore the way your heart raced just a little faster. You quickly pushed the thought away. He was your client, after all. This was just a chance encounter on a Saturday night—nothing more.
“Anyway,” Glen said after a moment, glancing at your now-refilled drink, “I better get back to the group. But don’t worry, I’ll be ready for whatever workout you throw at me on Monday.”
You raised your glass in a lighthearted toast. “You’d better be.”
With a final smile, Glen gave you a nod and made his way back to his friends, leaving you standing at the bar, a faint smile lingering on your lips as you watched him walk away.
You made your way back to the booth where your friends were sitting, trying to act like your quick conversation at the bar hadn’t just sent a small thrill through your chest. As soon as you sat down, though, you realized there was no hiding anything from them. Their eyes were all wide, gleaming with curiosity, and they immediately leaned in.
“Okay, spill,” one of your friends demanded, barely able to contain her excitement. “What was that?”
You laughed, shaking your head. “What do you mean?”
Another friend nudged your arm playfully. “Don’t act like you don’t know! That was Glen Powell, wasn’t it?”
You blinked, then gave a slow nod, not quite ready for the tidal wave of questions that was sure to follow. “Yeah… that was Glen.”
Their jaws practically dropped in unison.
“Oh my God,” One of them breathed. “You’re telling me you’ve been casually talking to Glen Powell at the bar this whole time you’ve been gone?”
“It wasn’t a big deal,” you replied quickly, trying to wave off the moment as you took a sip of your drink. “We just ran into each other, that’s all.”
One of their eyes narrowed as she leaned in even closer. “Wait a minute. Didn’t you mention a ‘high-profile client’ a couple of weeks ago? Are you telling me Glen Powell is the guy you’ve been working with at the gym?”
You sighed, knowing there was no getting around it now. “Okay, yes. I’ve been working with him for a couple of weeks. But seriously, it’s nothing. Just professional.”
Their eyes nearly bulged out of their heads as they processed that revelation.
“He’s your client?” One of them echoed in disbelief. “How did you not tell us it was him?”
You gave a half-shrug, trying to play it cool. “I mean, I couldn’t exactly name-drop him. It’s a work thing, you know? Confidentiality and all that.”
“Oh, please,” one of them said with a wave of her hand. “You’re too modest. Glen Powell is out there starring in movies, and you’ve been working with him to get him in shape? That’s insane.”
“It’s really not that crazy,” you insisted, feeling your cheeks warm under their eager stares. “He’s just another client.”
“Just another client?” Another one repeated incredulously. “I’m sorry, but you can’t tell me that conversation at the bar wasn’t flirty. He was totally into you.”
You laughed, shaking your head again. “It wasn’t flirting. We were just joking around. If anything, I was warning him about his workout on Monday after all that tequila he’s probably going to drink tonight.”
One of your friends leaned back with a knowing smile. “Oh, come on. He totally offered to buy your drink, didn’t he?”
You hesitated for a moment, then gave a sheepish nod. “Yeah… he did. But it wasn’t a big deal! He was just being nice.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Nice? Or maybe a little flirty?”
You sighed, trying to downplay it. “It wasn’t like that. He was just joking around. Honestly, we talked more about his workout plan than anything else.”
“Uh-huh,” she said, her tone teasing. “I’m sure it was all about the workout plan.”
You could feel their eyes on you, the playful smiles they exchanged as they leaned in with the kind of curiosity only good friends could get away with.
“Seriously,” you insisted, though your grin betrayed you. “He’s a client. It’s not like that.”
Your friends weren’t convinced. “Well, it sure looked like something to me. The way he was talking to you at the bar? He didn’t look like he was thinking about squats and deadlifts, that’s for sure.”
Another one chimed in with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Yeah, and that whole ‘watch your tequila intake’ thing? That was prime trainer-to-client flirting material.”
You laughed again, leaning back in your seat as the teasing continued. “It wasn’t flirting,” you repeated, though their playful accusations were starting to wear down your defenses.
“Right,” one of the girls said with a wink. “Well, even if it wasn’t, he clearly likes talking to you. So maybe that’s a sign of something.”
One of the others nodded, her expression turning a bit more serious. “Hey, we’re just saying—if something does happen, you have our full support.”
You smiled, feeling the warmth of their friendship settle around you. “Thanks, but really, it’s all professional. I’m not looking for anything more.”
One of the girls raised her glass in a toast. “To keeping it professional… but maybe hoping for a little fun along the way.”
You couldn’t help but laugh as you clinked glasses with her. “I’ll drink to that.”
As you took a sip, though, your thoughts wandered back to the easy conversation you’d had with Glen at the bar. Sure, it was just work—just a client interaction—but there had been something undeniably lighthearted, something that had left you smiling long after he’d walked away.
As the night went on, you found yourself stealing glances at Glen from your spot at the booth, the laughter of your friends fading into the background. You couldn’t help but notice the easy charm he exuded, even as he joked with his friends at the bar. It was hard not to smile every time you thought about your previous conversations. The playful banter between you two had definitely sparked something beyond a simple trainer-client dynamic.
After a while, you decided to venture back to the bar for another drink, this time determined to keep the mood light. As you approached, Glen noticed you immediately, his face breaking into a grin.
“Hey! Look who it is,” he called out, leaning against the bar with a casual confidence. “Back for another?”
You chuckled, leaning against the bar beside him. “What can I say? You have to stay hydrated, right?”
He laughed a warm sound that made you feel more at ease. “True. So, what’s your game plan for the weekend?”
“Honestly? Just a girls' night tonight. You know, drinks, gossip—typical stuff,” you said, your gaze lingering on him as you took a sip of your drink.
He raised an eyebrow. “Sounds fun. Any exciting plans with the girls?”
You shrugged. “Nothing too crazy. Just catching up. What about you? Any plans for the weekend?”
Glen leaned closer, lowering his voice slightly. “I was thinking of having a quiet night, maybe get some takeout on the way home. But who knows? My plans could change.”
You smirked, noticing the suggestive undertone in his words. “Oh? What kind of changes do you have in mind?”
He met your gaze, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. “Well, I could be convinced to do something more… interesting if the right company showed up.”
You felt a warmth spread through you, caught off guard by the implication behind his words. “Interesting? Like what?”
“Maybe a movie night? You know, two people just relaxing and enjoying some downtime,” he suggested, his tone playful yet serious.
“Sounds tempting,” you replied, your heart racing a little faster at the thought. “What kind of movies do you like?”
“Rom-coms, obviously,” he said with a wink. “I’m an actor, after all. Gotta stay on brand.”
You laughed, but then the conversation shifted. “So… any significant others I should know about?” you asked, genuinely curious.
He shook his head, his expression turning thoughtful. “Nope, just me. I’ve been focusing on work mostly.”
“Same here,” you admitted. “I’m single, too. Just haven’t had the time to meet anyone.”
“Funny how that works,” he replied, his gaze lingering on you. “Two busy people, both single.”
There was a charged silence between you as you both processed the moment, the playful tension hanging in the air. Glen shifted slightly closer, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. “You know, it’s refreshing to meet someone who gets it. Not many people can understand the kind of schedule I keep.”
You nodded, feeling the weight of his words. “Yeah, I'm sure it can be tough.”
“Maybe we should change that,” he suggested, his voice lower now. “Have some more ‘interesting’ nights.”
You couldn’t help but smile, your heart racing at the unspoken invitation. “I wouldn’t be opposed to that.”
Just then, as the night began to wind down, you glanced at your phone to check the time. “Wow, it’s getting late. I didn’t realize how much time had passed.”
“Yeah, it sneaks up on you,” he said, glancing around. “Are you getting an Uber home?”
You nodded, a hint of reluctance creeping in. “Yeah, I should probably call one.”
Glen frowned slightly, then offered, “Let me give you a ride home. I don’t want you waiting out here for an Uber.”
You hesitated, your mind racing. It was tempting, but you couldn’t shake the professional boundaries. “Are you sure? I don’t want to put you out.”
“Not at all,” he insisted, his smile warm and inviting. “I insist. Plus, it’ll give us more time to chat. And, you know, I can promise not to make you do any burpees in the car.”
You laughed, the tension from earlier dissipating. “Okay, if you insist.”
As you both walked outside, the warm spring air wrapped around you. Glen kept the conversation light as you walked to his car, and you found yourself enjoying his company even more. Once you were inside, he turned to you, the playful atmosphere returning.
“So, how bad my pis my punishment going to be on Monday for the drinks I had tonight?” He asked, his gaze locking onto yours.
You smirked, leaning in a little closer. “I might just add some extra reps to your routine.”
His smile widened, and suddenly the air felt charged again. You could feel the intensity building between you, the chemistry undeniable.
“Bring it on,” he replied, his voice dropping lower. “I can handle it.”
And before you knew it, the space between you disappeared. Glen leaned in, capturing your lips with his in a soft yet electrifying kiss.
When you finally pulled away, breathless, you realized you’d crossed a line, but it felt exhilarating. You were no longer just trainer and client; you were something else entirely.
“Wow,” you breathed, your heart racing.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “Wow, indeed.”
As Glen pulled out of the bar's parking lot, you felt a mix of excitement and nervousness swirling in your stomach. The city lights blurred past the windows, and you glanced over at him, catching his eyes focused on the road, a slight smile playing on his lips.
When you arrived at your apartment, you hesitated for just a moment before inviting him in. “Do you want to come in? I mean, if you’re still up for that movie?”
“I’d love to,” he replied, stepping out of the car and following you inside.
Once inside, you hung up your coats and motioned for him to take a seat on the couch. You headed to the kitchen, grabbing a couple of drinks before settling next to him. Glen watched you with that familiar warmth in his gaze, and it made your heart flutter.
“Okay, I’ll let you pick the movie,” you said, scrolling through your options.
“Let’s go classic,” he suggested, pointing at How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. “This one is always a good time.”
You chuckled. “Good choice. It’s one of my favorites.”
As the movie started, you both settled into the couch, the initial awkwardness fading into the cozy atmosphere. Glen’s arm rested casually on the back of the couch, and you couldn’t help but steal glances at him, enjoying the easy banter that flowed between you.
About halfway through the film, you felt his arm move, sliding down to your shoulder as he gently pulled you into his side. A warmth spread through you at the gesture, and you smiled, leaning into him comfortably.
“Is this okay?” he asked, looking down at you with those charming eyes.
You nodded, unable to suppress your grin. “Yeah, it’s perfect.”
“Good,” he said, a hint of relief in his voice. “I just wanted to make sure you’re comfortable.”
“I am,” you replied softly, feeling the connection between you deepening. You could feel his heartbeat against you, steady and reassuring, and the atmosphere felt charged with a sweet kind of intimacy.
As the movie continued, you caught yourself glancing up at him, noticing how he focused intently on the screen, yet you could sense he was aware of you too. Every so often, your shoulders brushed, sending little sparks of electricity between you.
“Have you seen this before?” he asked, his gaze still on the movie.
“A million times,” you laughed. “It’s one of those movies I can watch on repeat and never get tired of.”
He smiled, looking down at you. “It’s one of my favorites too…Kind of like the person watching it.”
You felt your cheeks warm at his compliment, a light flutter of nerves dancing in your stomach. “You’re smooth, aren’t you?”
“Only when the situation calls for it,” he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
The film played on, but the focus began to shift more towards each other. You felt the tension build in the small moments, the lingering touches, and the way his gaze lingered on you. It was as if the lines between work and pleasure had blurred completely, and you were both caught up in something new and thrilling.
With the credits rolling, Glen turned to you, the air between you electric. “So, what do you think? Think I can pull off this upcoming Rom-Com role after watching one?”
You laughed, your heart racing. “I think you’ve got the charm down already. Just maybe don’t take any advice from this movie for your actual dating life.”
“Noted,” he replied, his voice dropping slightly. “You know maybe I need a few more rom-com movie nights to fully prepare for this role.”
“I might know someone who could help you with that,” you said, your pulse quickening as you realized how much you wanted to spend more time with him.
He leaned in slightly, his expression softening. “You know, I really enjoy spending time with you outside the gym.”
“Me too,” you admitted, the vulnerability of the moment wrapping around you like a warm blanket.
Before you could think it through, you leaned in closer, feeling the magnetic pull between you. And just like that, he was closing the distance, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle, tentative kiss.
It felt like the world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you, lost in the moment. When you pulled away, breathless, you realized this was more than just a client relationship; it was the start of something new, something exciting.
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Low Effort
Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader
Requested: no
Summary: Y/N gets a surprise visit, which triggers some unpleasant symptoms
Word Count: 1k+
Tags/Warnings: mentions of stomach cramps, slight allusion to anxiety, negative emotions
A/N: Long time no see! This is a thing I needed to get off my chest and needed to get the emotions out, so it’s just some Jay comfort/fluff. Also, a warning that I haven’t written in so long, this kind of feels a bit meh, so I hope I haven’t lost too much of my writing touch LOL
JAY HALSTEAD MASTERLIST
You closed your laptop shut, just as your phone lit up with a notification about a new message from Jay.
Sorry, got held up. 10 minutes. Tops.
You smiled, typing a quick response of acknowledgment to tell him not to hurry before you got up, grabbing your bag. You were too fried to continue anything else so you figured you would just go and wait for him. Fresh air was better than whatever was coming through the office vents.
As the glass doors of the main entrance on the first floor slid open and you felt the chill of the Chicago winds hit your face, you sighed. Fresh air was definitely better.
“Y/N.”
You glanced up, your eyebrows naturally bunching together at the sound of a woman’s voice.
As your eyes met hers, you froze for a moment, your brain still processing the fact that she was here.
“Amy?” Her name slipped past your lips before you could stop yourself, even though the only emotion you were feeling at this moment was surprise. There was nothing positive or negative about it.
Amy could feel it in your voice as well. “Can we talk? I’ve missed you.”
You frowned as a cramp shot through your lower abdomen.
“I thought we were better friends than this. Low-maintenance, remember?” Amy said, and you could hear the tone in her voice, the one she used when she was upset or disappointed.
The feeling of indignation shot through you once again.
“Yeah, low maintenance, not low effort.”
Your voice was low but you didn’t let the emotion sway it. You spent years telling yourself that it was just a low-maintenance friendship, that you were both just busy, but you couldn’t ignore the way she’d reappear in front of you only when she needed your support, or when the guy she was seeing was out of town.
You glanced up at the street but hadn’t seen Jay’s car yet.
You exhaled. “Look, Amy. You have your priorities, I get it. Just don’t expect me to drop mine when you blow back into town or when your boyfriend doesn’t have time for you. It doesn’t work that way.”
You felt the cramps intensify and knew what it was. You called it “emotional cramps” with Jay, joking that as long as he kept you happy you’d be fine. Yet, here they were again. Maybe it was because you hadn’t had them in a while, you felt them more intensely now.
You put a hand on your stomach as you looked up at Amy. As expected, she had an indignant look on her face.
“How could you say that, Y/N? I know the fact that I was seeing Trevor was a sore spot with you because you weren’t seeing anyone so I didn’t want to make things harder for you. But now…”
You couldn't even respond as the pain ripped through you once again and you bent forward slightly, your knees buckling a little. You braced yourself for the impact of your knees hitting the concrete sidewalk when you felt his arms around you.
“Babe, what’s wrong?”
Jay.
Amy seemed stunned for a moment before she spoke again, “It must be her…”
“Why’s it acting up?” Jay asked, his entire focus on you as you glanced up at him and quietly shook your head.
Jay glanced up at Amy. They didn’t know each other since you’d met Jay sometime after contact between you and Amy had dwindled to almost nothing. By the time you and Jay had started dating, you’d made up your mind to let go of Amy and this friendship, and it had merely nagged at you a little at the back of your mind from time to time so you hadn’t brought her up.
“Come on, we’re going to Med,” Jay said quietly, pulling you upright.
You glanced at him. “Don’t you dare carry me,” You warned.
Despite the worried look in his eyes, Jay smiled. “We’re going to Will.” He repeated, almost like he was daring you to argue.
You didn’t argue. Partly because all you wanted to do was get out of there but partly because you knew it was useless. Besides, the pain was more intense than you remembered.
Without a second glance back, Jay helped you into the car and drove off, both of you leaving Amy still standing on the sidewalk.
You knew what had triggered the attack, so after getting medication for the pain and cramping, you’d been feeling much better.
“You know I’d be feeling even better if you would stop hovering, Detective.” You said, directing the comment at your boyfriend.
Will smiled as he tapped on the iPad in his hand and glanced at his brother. “She’s fine. Her tests are normal, and it was probably just a one-off stress-related attack.”
You nodded. “I’ll follow up with my therapist, I promise.”
Will ruffled your hair affectionately and you growled because he knew you hated it.
“I’ll get the discharge started.”
Jay was quiet as he leaned over you, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You sure you’re okay?”
You nodded, before you glanced back down.
“Amy’s an old friend.” You said, after a while. "At least, she was."
Jay didn’t say anything, so you continued, telling him about how Amy was when she started dating anyone, and it only progressively got worse. “And it’s not about seeing her often, you know? It’s just…”
Jay nodded. “You didn’t feel like she cared.”
You sighed quietly. “I just… it got to a point where I realized she didn’t care. I was a friend when she needed me, and when she didn’t, I just… didn’t exist. And apparently, to her, that’s me being sore.”
Jay just took your hand in his, gently stroking your fingers.
“But I just realized it was better to have no one than to be treated that way, so I just…”
“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” Jay said quietly. “Listen, someone who gives you low effort doesn’t deserve you. I don’t care who they are. Anyone who makes you feel this way doesn’t deserve even one percent of you.”
You looked up at him and smiled, a little sadness hidden behind it.
“I guess seeing her today just brought it all back, you know? And then it triggered all those emotions and then my stomach cramps decided to join the party.” You made a face.
Jay smiled quietly back at you. “But you know what? You’re not alone. At least not anymore.”
You smiled and leaned forward for a hug. Jay perched by the edge of the bed, pulling you gently into his arms and you buried your face into his shoulders, feeling his arms encircle your entire body.
“I know.” You whispered.
Jay kissed the top of your head. “Good.”
THANK YOU FOR READING!! PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT OF THIS!!
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#resa.fics#jay halstead#jay halstead x reader#chicago pd#chicago pd x reader#jay halstead imagine#jay halstead oneshot#jay halstead fanfiction#jay halstead x you#jay halstead x y/n
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SERENE SHENANIGANS
❨ summary ❩ twst › waking them up to tell them stories that don’t make sense
tags ✧ fluff, crack, savanaclaw boys, defo not proofread its like 7 am, cursing but nothing out of the ordinary, ooc(?), ruggie calls you a little shit like once (affectionate), jack is whipped for you
amanuensis’ message ⊹ I LITERALLY LOVE DOING THIS??? my friends hate me for it. but anyways hiii im back after like my month hiatus, how are thy sleeplings?😋 mb guys writers block has been really kicking my ass, i was spitting blanks on paper… i’m gonna hopefully post another pastry emporium soon for scarabia so stay tuned for that‼️
⌜ 300+ e/chara ⌟
♫ sunset boulevard - hohyun
twst masterlist
LEONA KINGSCHOLAR
— “leona… pspsps….”
— he hums gruffly when his name was called the first time, only opening his eye thinking you called him a second time when it was really just noise that you would make to get the attention of a house cat. he instantly pins his ears back. how dare you. “hmm?”
— “so i took our snail for a walk and i had accidentally left my feet here to wash the dishes because the grass was blue.”
— huh? you could see him trying to process everything you just said as you explained, his lips parting and eyebrows furrowing. it took everything in you not to laugh. he does one of those blinks, the really delayed ones, one eye opens before the other…
— he’s half asleep too so the confusion is just adding up altogether. if chicken scratch wasn’t a writing term, this is literally it in words. its like the books back at home he picks up to read (derogatory) its, what, 4 am? dont do this to him😭
— you’ve never seen him so expressive💀 this definitely makes his eye and ear twitch at the same time. what type of fucked up fever dream is this?? its usually a blessing seeing you as the first thing he wakes up to, not when you wake him up with some bull strung up in a sentence with your beady eyes staring at him while he sleeps. he loves you, yes, but what does he even say to this…
— “what…”
— your forehead met with his chest as you struggled not to laugh at the uncharacteristic break in leona’s voice. how many cups of coffee did you drink? he asks you to repeat yourself even though it kinda a mind mush decision so you did and by the end of it, he looks absolutely restless.
— “that’s… yes. that’s great, herbivore. can we go to bed now?”
— you note that leona is surprisingly patient when half asleep
┏━━━━━━ ━ ─ ╴⋯ ⟢
JACK HOWL
— deep sleeper. tug his ear. though he practically springs up before your hand makes contact, giving himself whiplash.
— “jack?”
— almost instantly relaxes when he realizes its you, tail wagging subtly☹️ “hi, baby. s’something wrong?”
— “hiii, do you remember a year ahead ago when i had to go to the dentist to get my spine fixed and the cats were barking at the flying dogs because the sky was in the water?”
— bro feels like he just had a stroke💀 he’s blinking rapidly, rubbing nose bridge as you explain. he really wants to understand, he does, but wtf did you just say??? it was the innocent “hi” before you unapologetically bashed his head in with the entire dictionary. its so ridiculous he couldn’t help but laugh.
— “jack, this is serious.” even as you told him that, your voice was not steady at all which made his shoulders shake violently in silent laughter.
— “im listening, i swear. tell me one more time?” yk his ass is not listening. he pulls you into his lap while his thumbs idly rubbed your sides, responding to your stories with “uh-huh” and “yeah?” with a lovesick smile on his face.
— eventually holds your face and starts pressing heart squeezing, fluffy kisses all over your face which truly made you more tired then you were. you honestly start forgetting what and where the story was going.
— jack only pauses his kissing attack to respond when you take a small break but even then he doesn’t pull away fully, he’s just speaking against your skin
— “—and the duck had my arm while i was taking it on a walk because gran tammy was in a flying shopping cart.”
— “oh wow. and then?”
— he’s listening but he’s not, mostly because he’s like two seconds away from dreamland and his brain isn’t registering half the shit you’re saying. he wants to see how many stories you can jumble up.
— “yeah, i think it’s bedtime for us…”
┏━━━━━━ ━ ─ ╴⋯ ⟢
RUGGIE BUCCHI
— omfg he wakes up like a mom. like yk how you would barely touch them and they would gasp like they were just given cpr?? he wakes up like that.
— and you’re just standing there awkwardly 👁️👁️
— takes a quick look around before looking at you. “what happened? is it time to wake up leona already?” you shake your head and ruggie flops back, an arm draped over his eyes. “you scared me… come, lay down with me?” he held his free arm out for you and you did take your place cozied up against his side. to your surprise, you did actually scare the living shit out of him from how fast his heart was racing.
— “ruggie, yk i just found out you’re related to turtles, right? and i had to take uncle bobby to the vet to get a dna test because the fish drowned in air.”
— slow roblox turn towards you but instead its his head as he cranes it down to stare at you. you can practically hear the gears in his head turning and you literally could not look at him or you’d blow your cover.🧍🏾
— “i’m sorry,, what the fuck??”
— he’s genuinely confused, asking you questions about your story while his brain tries to put together the pieces. each question he asks, the more its harder to speak in full sentences other than wheezes
— “what are you laughing at, ya little shit? explain this to me!”
— “i’m trying!”
— and you are😭 its like when you have to explain the family tree really slow bc you cant say, “my father’s girlfriend’s son” without him like ???? and you’re trying to explain it to him slowly, eventually forgetting what you said in the first place…
— “…and the fish drowned in air.”
— “yes.”
— “sweetheart, you still haven’t explained how i’m related to turtles—”
#disney twisted wonderland#disney twst#twst fluff#twst headcanons#twst wonderland#twisted wonderland scenarios#twisted wonderland imagines#twisted wonderland#twst#twisted wonderland headcanons#twst x reader#twisted wonderland savanaclaw#leona kingscholar#leona x reader#leona kingsholar x reader#twst leona#twisted wonderland leona#jack howl#jack howl x reader#twst jack#obey me#twst ruggie#ruggie bucci x reader#twisted wonderland ruggie#ruggie bucchi#ruggie bucci#ruggie x reader#ruggie headcanons#leona headcanons#jack howl headcanons
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˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚ day off I nanami kento pairing: nanami x reader tags: slice of life (maybe part of the series?), fluff, (no beta, we die like men) wc: 1,005
nanami kento doesn’t have days off.
ever.
in fact, nanami is the ideal employee, as per his (less than empathetic) bosses. he’s always punctual—clocking in at the exact time or ensuring he’s five minutes early to meetings. he’s reliable—even if the assignment was given the night before, rest assured he’ll have it done without working overtime. nanami has never requested for a day off—not for his birthday, not for meet-ups with friends, and not for special dates with you. he delivers the results necessary but rarely lacks or goes above and beyond.
it helps that he has a schedule. up at the crack of dawn—with only one alarm to wake him from his restful slumber. breakfast, a shower, and coffee all in an hour before he’s giving you your usual morning kiss and a reminder about your date that evening.
so, on one of the rare days that you aren’t needed in the office, and the chirping of birds or the slow sway of the sunlight doesn’t wake you up—an unusually warm body beside you does. you almost jump, this couldn’t possibly be your beloved. you half-expected to be able to spread yourself all over the bed for the morning, only to be denied when a lean body hits against your arm.
you groggily open one eye but your brain quickly works overdrive.
”don’t—don’t kidnap me,” you slur, sitting up quickly as you realize that there’s an arm around you. you rub your eyes, tripping over your words before you can muster up a more intimidating way to threaten this intruder. which, in retrospect, you don’t imagine to be very intimidating with your morning hair and nanami’s shirt as your pajamas dressing you. “’s not nice—i know a cop.”
”you do?” a voice responds, awfully familiar but you don’t let yourself get too comfortable. your eyes squint at the sunlight when you hear a gruff continuation. “i didn’t know any of our friends worked for the precinct.”
our friends? what type of friends could you even share with a—
you blink once. twice. before a realization dawns on you—one that swirls confusion, which seems to be a pre-requisite to the budding hope spreading throughout your chest.
”kento?” you ask, sitting a little straighter as you look at the space beside you. alas, your fiancé, in all his glory. nanami’s blonde hair sprawled over the white pillows, a mess before the usual pristine styling. his posture is relaxed, an arm resting behind his head as he looks at you with an amused expression, one that sits behind morning sleepiness that you haven’t been familiar with. not when he’s always the one to wake up. it doesn’t help that he’s topless. you find it a little unfair that he’s this attractive right after waking up.
”g’morning, darling.”
”good—good morning?! do you know what time it is?!” you splutter, looking at the bedside clock. of all your years of knowing him, nanami has never been late. you can’t help but think that tonight might be the first time he’s broken a global record.
you might have to start celebrating this milestone yearly.
”ten thirty-nine?” he muses, the amusement no longer hidden behind the usual morning grogginess. you look at him like he’s grown a third head.
”ten—ten?! kento, it’s way past your hours—”
”i know.”
”you know?! but you’re sitting here like you have a calvin klein shoot—”
”i took the day off.”
”you did what?!” you exclaim, almost as if you’ve heard the most absurd news of your life. to an extent, you kind of just did. “are you sick?”
”not that i know of, no, love,” nanami asks, now genuinely confused at your reaction. any other lover would celebrate a day where they could spend time together; a cafe, a slow day in, anything really. he finds your reaction amusing—and slightly disheartening. “is there a problem?”
there’s a silence as you soak it all in. a day. where nanami kento has willingly decided to not go to work. you can’t possibly fathom a reason why he isn’t clocking in his office with the most uncomfortable chair known to man. surely, there’s paperwork that nanami can’t miss out on—or so he claims every time you grumble about him leaving so early in the morning.
”problem? no. irregularity? yes.” you respond, finally shifting in the bed to turn to properly face him. he’s propped up by his arm—looking far too handsome for a man who just left his company in shambles (he didn’t). “you’ve never taken a day off.”
a pause as nanami thinks before he shrugs. “i guess i haven’t. there’s never been an urgent reason to file for one.”
"oh, and my—”
”yes, darling, your morning pouting is not categorized as urgent.” he responds, biting back an amused smile as you immediately let a huff out. the familiar jut of your lips only entertaining him further. “but it did do a number on me. i thought to take a day off so we could spend time together.”
you squint your eyes in response—almost accusingly as you cross your arms. he lets out a chuckle—a little rough with morning sleepiness but it’s attractive nonetheless. there’s a set of arms that wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him until you’re practically on his lap. nanami’s chin rests on your shoulder, your back to his chest as he keeps his arm around your middle.
”so suspicious? just cause of my day off?” he whispers into your ear, planting a kiss on your shoulder. your heart stutters. “had the whole day planned out, princess.”
there’s a familiar giddy feeling that spreads through your chest—a familiar sensation when it comes to being around nanami. one of his hands interlocks with your left, his fingers playing with the stone he bought you a couple of weeks ago. a promise for a lifetime together—and an unforgettable wedding, he assures you.
”i’m marrying you after all, it’s only right that i want to spoil my wife.”
✩ author's note: i need him in ways that are concerning to feminism. i need him with me. ⓒ prettyboytsum 2024. all works are posted under this account on tumblr.com and are protected by copyright laws. do not plagiarise these works on any other platform or account.
#₊˚⊹♡₊ luna writes#jjk#jjk hcs#nanami kento x reader#jjk nanami#nanami x reader#jjk x reader#jjk scenarios#nanami kento#jjk fic#kento nanami x reader#nanami x you
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WEEKLY POLL
Hi guys! Here’s the weekly poll! A new one for u gusy to pick us out btw
Sorry for the short post, idk how to elaborate on words
Tending to Arlecchino’s wounds
TAGS: mentions of blood, gore if you squint, fluff
CHARACTERS: arlecchino, mentions of Freminet
10:31…
11:04…
12:57…
2:00 AM.
You stayed up the entire night, waiting for your lover, Arlecchino to arrive to the hearth.
You had been living in the hearth with arlecchino ever since you two started dating, and you don’t mind. You help the kids, help her and just like being there in general.
Lately, she’s been out on more missions. Which is normal, but the thing is, it’s not hee missions. She orders kids in the hearth to do tasks but lately, she’s been more busy doing it all on her own.
You get worried, seeing how injured the kids look when they return from their mission. Arlecchino by their side, supporting them with blood on her face and trousers.
“Arlecchino!”
You exclaimed, when she came home at 2AM with an injured Freminet in her arms.
“Get him to the infirmary. Now.”
She demanded, giving you a barely conscious Freminet.
You ran to the infirmary, whispering soothing things to the boy.
“Shh shh it’s okay, just a bit longer. No passing out okay?”
You said calmly, as you brought him to a bed in the infirmary.
“Nurse!”
You called out, before seeing a bunch of nurses treat him.
“Wheres… f-father…”
He looked for him, with a look of fear in his eyes. Not fear that he might die, but fear of failing the mission.
“That’s not important!”
You held his hand, before the doctors told you they’ll need to put anesthesia and perform surgery. They couldn’t allow you in the room.
You panicked, but you had to leave.
As you left the room, you saw a trail of blood.
That’s odd
You thought, seeing the blood trail past the infirmary.
You followed the blood trail, only for you to hear a groan.
You then realized.
“Arle-!”
You ran into hee room, not bothering to knock, to see her in the couch, blood all over her stomach, dust on her face and laying down with a med kit next to her.
“…”
She simply stared, trying to sit up but wincing softly.
“Ive been trained for it, I can handle it.”
She says with her normal nonchalant tone, looking at you in surprise when you started getting the things for the wounds.
“….hm”
She observed you closely, watching your hands shake in fear that you might lose your lover.
“…may I?”
You said, tugging her shirt.
She nodded, as you saw the amount of cuts in her stomach. You ran your hands over the open wounds, Arlecchino grunts.
“I can take care of myself, go to bed y/n.”
Arlecchino was strong, she always took care of her own wounds. She didn’t like others seeing her wounds.
The moment you started cleaning her wounds, she didn’t know how to feel. She never had someone worrying over her, or at least she hasn’t for a long time. She just watched you, staying silent and still.
From time to time, you could tell she was in a lot of pain. It wasn’t through her looks or actions, but something you couldn’t name.
During these times, she closes her eyes, just letting you treat her. You panicked at first when you thought she went unconscious, but she taps her fingers on the couch to reassure you in a way.
When you finish, it’s just silent. She doesn’t know how to react, she was raised to be a soldier. She didn’t know how to thank you, so instead she just nodded her head as thanks.
“….I appreciate the gesture.”
She stands up, gives you a kiss on the forehead.
“Let’s get you to bed”
BEFORE YOU GUYS SAY SMTH LIKW “this is so mischaracterized” “omg arle tsundere???” NO. YUCK. EW. JUST READ THE HEADCANONS BELOW
This woman is strong as hell, so she tries to remain strong even when she’s weak
She got the habit of treating herself from the start, even when the previous knave was there
“But she’s a strict and unfeeling-“ SHUT UP. Yes I think she’s strong but I don’t think that means she doesn’t feel pain at all.
Idt SHES the type to be like “ah-!” Or jolt up in pain, instead she just goes “tsk” or has a light gasp.
#arlecchino#arlecchino x reader#Arlecchino fluff#arle x reader#genshin#genshin impact#genshin x reader#fluff#headcanons#freminet
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A Stellar Birthday
-> Masterlist || → Taglist
Pairings: Jing Yuan, Dan Heng x (gn!) Reader
Summary: It's your birthday, yet there is something that is tainting your mood. He manages to change that, however.
Tags: Fluff, hints of angst at first (but it's really harmless), SFW, kissing, confessions, Jing Yuan being a scheming master, Dan Heng being bad with feelings
A/N: Second self-indulgent birthday fic! This time for HSR. Hope you enjoy :3
JING YUAN
“Hey.” Your employer briefly knocks at the door of your office to make you aware of his presence before walking up to your desk.
“Hello, sir. Anything the matter?” You inquired carefully, because somehow your gut feeling told you that he was about to tell you something you wouldn’t like.
“Yes. I came to tell you that the vacation day you entered for tomorrow… Unfortunately, you won’t be able to take it anymore.”
“Wh-what? Why?” You ask exasperated. You had booked that day off months in advance because you and Jing Yuan wanted to spend your birthday together.
“I know this is really short notice, but Mei came to my office earlier and it’s her birthday tomorrow. Surely you don’t mind coming to work tomorrow so someone else can celebrate their birthday, right? We’d do the same for you.”
Your boss tapped your desk twice before turning around again to leave, not even waiting for your reply.
The knot in your throat became tighter and tighter and all you wanted was to yell after him that it was your birthday as well tomorrow. Yet, somehow you didn’t have it in you to correct him, also because you could feel that you would burst into tears the moment you opened your mouth again.
You bit back a sob as you could feel the burning sensation in your eyes and some tears welled up. You tried to calm yourself by repeatedly telling yourself that it couldn’t be helped and that your birthday was just another day of the year anyway. No need to make a big deal about it. You could always spend time with Jing Yuan on another day as well. Right?
You learned your lesson and will just explicitly mention that you will take time off for your birthday next year, something that you had failed to do this year and that had caused this situation in the first place. Your boss could’ve checked your employee card and would’ve seen that it was your birthday as well, but he, too, had a lot on his plate and it couldn’t be helped anymore.
Once you were back home from work you slammed the door shut behind you and quickly took out your phone to open the chat between you and Jing Yuan.
‘Need to cancel our plans tomorrow. I’m sorry. Let’s do something on another day.’
You typed and hit send faster than you were able to process before turning your phone to silent mode and throwing it between the pillows of your sofa.
The frustrations of the day began to wash over you all at once at that moment and you could feel the lump in your throat grow to a size that made it hard to breathe. And no matter how much you tried to swallow it down, the tears that started to spill were inevitable. You were angry, frustrated, and just wanted to yell at everything and everyone. Because once again you felt invisible. Like no one in the world cared about your feelings and all you ever had to do was to accommodate everyone else. You hated it and you hated that the feeling was so awfully familiar.
You don’t even know how long you had been crying when the sudden ring of your doorbell pulled you out of the hole of self-pity you had dug for yourself.
You quickly wiped the tears out of your eyes and checked your face in the mirror beside the door. Your puffy, red eyes would betray that you had been crying to whoever was standing in front of the door right away.
So, you contemplated whether it was a good idea to open at all or if you should simply act like you weren’t at home. Because you didn’t really want to see anyone in this state either. Or, god forbid, have them ask if everything was alright. Because, frankly, nothing was alright right now.
“I know you’re there. Open up.”
The familiar voice rang through the door causing you to perk up. Jing Yuan sounded worried. You assumed that he had probably tried to message or call you and you didn’t pick up because you had set your phone to silent.
Your hand wandered in the direction of the doorknob, which you hesitantly rested it on, still unsure whether to open or to play dead.
“Please… let me in.” He pleaded in a way that almost made your heart shatter. So, with much hesitancy, you decided to open the door.
You immediately saw Jing Yuan’s brows furrow when he looked at your face. Pushing past you inside, he closed the door and immediately took you in his embrace.
“Tell me what happened.” He urged sympathetically, gently stroking your cheeks with his thumb.
Under sobs, you began recalling the events of the day, ending it with a full-on crying session by the moment you stopped talking again. You seriously wondered if he even understood anything you were trying to tell because of how much you had started sobbing throughout it.
He hugged you tightly, wiping away your tears once again, and reassuring you that everything would be alright. At the moment you didn’t quite see how, but he always remained right, so you simply nodded against his chest.
Once you had calmed down a bit he briefly excused himself, reassuring you that he would be right back with something that would cheer you up. And not even forty minutes later he was back with two paper bags filled with your favorite street foods and two cups of Immortal’s Delight.
No matter what, he always knew what he needed to do. While you got some plates and chopsticks out of the kitchen you suddenly heard the familiar ringtone of your phone coming out of the living room.
Confused you walked over to where you had thrown it between the pillows. You could’ve sworn you had put it on silent earlier, so why was it ringing now?
You fished your phone out and checked the brightly illuminated screen.
Boss.
Why was he calling now? By the Aeons, you sure as hell had enough of him today already.
“Hello?” You picked up questioningly.
“A-ah. It’s good t-that I reach you. Uhm– actually I-I wanted to to tell you that you don’t need to come to work tomorrow. You get your day off. M-my bad. Heh.” He was stammering and sounded more nervous than an alerted Warp Trotter.
“Uh…okay. Thank you.” You paused, walking over to the kitchen, holding your phone to one ear, glaring daggers at Jing Yuan who was happily chewing away at some gyoza and questioningly raising an eyebrow at you.
“Yeah. Uhm… e-enjoy your birthday tomorrow. Oh, and I-I happened to check our yearly employee evaluation and I’m happy to in-inform you that you’re getting a raise. Come to my office on Friday. O-Okay… bye.”
You didn’t even manage to get a word in before he hung up again. One thing was certain though, something smelled awfully fishy here, and it wasn’t the food Jing Yuan had brought in earlier.
“Who was that?” He asked innocently despite knowing full well who had just called.
“What did you do?” You asked accusingly, crossing your arms over your chest at which he just raised an eyebrow.
“Me? I didn’t do anything.” He acted completely clueless but the twitch of the corner of his lips betrayed the truth.
You knew the influence he had aboard the Luofu. He was the General of the Cloud Knights after all. Never did you expect him to use that influence for such matters, however.
“So… does this mean I can stay the night and the plan to go out tomorrow is back on the table?”
This man was unbelievable.
DAN HENG
“Happy Birthday!” The Astral Express Crew gratulated you in unison.
Himeko placed the cake they got for you on the table in front of you while March readied herself to snap a picture. Mr. Yang stood by and watched with crossed arms and a smile on his face. And Pom-Pom was attempting to admonish everyone to not get any burn holes in or crumbs on the red leather bench.
March began counting down from three waiting for the perfect moment to snap a picture of you blowing out the candles. Followed by claps and more birthday wishes from everyone once they were extinguished.
Well, everyone aside from Dan Heng.
He was silently sitting in an armchair away from everyone simply typing and scrolling away on his phone. He hadn’t even looked up once for hours now, let alone engaged in any group activities.
You told yourself you wouldn’t let it sour your mood, it was your birthday after all. So if he wanted to brood, let him brood.
However, when you tried to hand him a plate with a piece of cake and he just declined the offer with the excuse of not being hungry right now, not even daring to look at you, you couldn’t help but wonder what was up with him.
As you sat back together with the others you occasionally found yourself stealing glances at Dan Heng to see if you could read anything on his face. But it stayed the same. Expressionless and completely unreadable.
Eventually, after you came back from getting yourself and Mr. Yang a cup of coffee, you found the chair he had sat on all evening empty.
Was something wrong? Did he have a grudge against you?
It didn’t go unnoticed by the others either that you grew quieter and quieter as the evening progressed.
March was the first one to address the elephant in the room.
“It bothers you that Dan Heng didn’t join, right?” And she couldn’t have hit the nail more on the head even if she tried.
You hummed in agreement, taking another sip from your coffee. You looked back to the empty chair for a brief moment, while a thousand questions popped into your head once more.
Ever since the Crew had come back from the Luofu he had been more quiet than usual. He barely even spoke a word with you and kept locking himself up in his room for days on end. It would be a lie if you said it didn’t bother you. Because with every day that passed you wondered more and more why he was acting so differently.
“Don’t worry so much. He’s probably just grumpy about something. He’ll be back to normal in no time.” March reassured with an infectious smile, slinging her arms around you in a quick hug. “Now, we should do something about this gloomy mood. It’s your birthday! What do you want to do? More cake? Dancing? Anything?”
In all honesty, you didn’t really feel like partying as long as Dan Heng’s weird behavior was at the back of your mind constantly. Because no matter what you were doing, you kept thinking about it sooner or later again anyway.
“Did… something happen on the Luofu?” You finally decided to ask.
March seemed to be taken by surprise by your question before immediately and hectically waving off that anything had happened. Unfortunately for her, she could be read like an open book. So, you immediately knew she was lying. But why?
What happened on the Luofu?
You nodded, accepting that you wouldn’t get any answers from her tonight, and excused yourself, telling everyone that you would be heading to bed now.
On the way to your room, you saw that Dan Heng’s door wasn’t closed entirely and a streak of light from the inside illuminated the hallway of the cart. You couldn’t help but steal a glance inside, but you found the room completely empty.
Wondering where he went you walked straight past your room, and through some other carts until you eventually reached the observatory and the very last cart.
And this is also where you found him.
He was sitting next to the telescope at the desk, writing something down. When you knocked on the doorframe to make him aware of your presence, he perked his head up to look at you. Yet somehow he immediately almost looked alert.
“What are you doing here?” His voice sounded panicked, almost accusatory.
“I came looking for you when I saw your room was empty–” You began to explain, confused about the hostility in the air.
“Did you go in?” He interrupted frantically, jumping up from his chair with a shocked look in his beautiful turquoise eyes.
“I–what? No!” You exclaimed in disbelief. “What is going on with you?”
“It’s nothing.” He once again waved it off, as usual. And his demeanor left more questions than answers every time he did just that.
“Nothing? As in nothing you want to tell me? Nothing why you keep avoiding me? Nothing why you keep diverting the topic whenever I try to ask about the Luofu mission?” You huffed in frustration. You could feel anger that stemmed from weeks of confusion and unanswered questions well up in the pit of your stomach, making you ball your fists at your sides.
Dan Heng exhaled heavily, diverting his gaze to the ground, rubbing the back of his head with his hand.
“Just… talk to me.” You demanded pleadingly.
He took a few steps in your direction, breathing heavily. And before you knew it the air around him began to glow in such a bright blue light, that you had to shield your eyes in order to not get blinded. Sparkles began to form, making the room ooze with magic you had no idea existed.
When the light finally dimmed again, you lowered the hand you had held in front of your face. But what was in front of you exceeded even your wildest imaginations. Long, silky black hair that faded into dark blue cascaded down Dan Heng’s shoulders, crystalline horns had grown on his head, a translucent dragon tail had formed behind him, and icy blue, glowing eyes were staring right at you.
You wanted to say something – ask so many questions that were burning at the back of your mind, but every word you were desperate to speak died on your tongue. You were too stunned to speak.
He nodded, dropping his eyes, and pressed his lips into a thin line with a defeated look on his face.
“There. This is why I didn’t tell you… why I’ve been acting the way I did. Because I was scared you would think I’m–”
“Beautiful.” You muttered under your breath faster than your brain could process that you just said it out loud.
“What?” He asked in disbelief.
“You look… beautiful.” You almost choked on your words, still in disbelief over what you just said. You had never acted on your feelings for Dan Heng because you didn’t know if he felt the same for you and in fear of making things awkward. But there was no going back from it now.
“Like… I truly mean i–mphh”
Before you knew it he had pulled you in by your waist, uniting your lips with an intensity that knocked the air out of your lungs and made you feel lightheaded.
“Oh god, I-I’m so sorry. I just– I didn’t mean to–” He stammered in panic immediately after breaking off the kiss and realizing what he had just done. Lifting his hand up to his lips shaking his head.
“Please do that again.” You immediately cut him off, pulling his hand away from his face and slinging your arms around his neck while pulling him closer. Your heart was practically beating out of your chest at this point and your face felt like it was burning up.
You could smell the bitterness of the coffee he had been drinking all evening on his breath and the familiar scent of his aftershave. Because despite everything, he was still Dan Heng. Your Dan Heng. The one you had grown to love. And nothing was ever going to change that.
And with one last adoring look into your eyes, he pulled you in once more in a silent declaration of love.
Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about HSR or my fics are always greatly appreciated and motivate me! Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.
#honkai star rail#hsr#hsr x reader#dan heng x reader#dan heng il x reader#jing yuan x reader#hsr fluff#hsr fanfic#honkai star rail fanfic#honkai star rail x reader#hsr drabbles#hsr imagines#🍁 dust writes#🍁彡 hsr
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Replaced part two
Omg I’m so upset- it won’t let me tag like anyone with dashes in their name at allll soooo if you commented on that post I am so so so sorry I couldn’t tag you guys
Type: one shot turned more
Part: 2/2
Part 1 here
Masterlist here
Pairing: Azriel x reader/ mystery character x reader
Seriously guys thank you so much- I’m so glad that the first part had so much love and I hope this one is just as good.
“So, what did you need my love?” I lean down to kiss my fiancés temple. He’s stressed, I can tell. His fingers tap away in rhythm with his foot. “Baby- what’s going on? Why are you so stressed?” My hands run down the length of his arms in a soothing motion. “How can I help you?”
The new high lord of autumn’s head meets my shoulder, a small smile gracing his lips. His head raises till his lips meet mine in a soft kiss. “Baby I need you to sit down.” His smile disappears as soon as it came and I frown, moving to the seat on the other side of his desk. I raise my brows expectantly as his hands move to reach mine. “Love- we have a high lords meeting in two weeks time. They have requested it be held here in order to see how I’m handling the court now.”
“Ok? And?”
“Darling I want to introduce you as the new high lady of Autumn. I want you come along.” He sighs, “it means you will have to see all of them again.”
The realization hits me like a ton of bricks. I breath for a moment, thinking about it, it’s been nearly five years since I left, the last time I saw any of them was the battle with Hybern, and even then Eris kept me mostly away from them so that I wasn’t distracted. “I’ll go.”
“Are you sure darling?”
“Very. I want them to see me as the high lady of autumn. Not the girl that left all that time ago.”
He smirks his signature smirk, pride filling his eyes. “Very well. Shall we begin planning?”
———
Everyone has finally arrived- or what is usually everyone, confusion sets in as Eris seems to sit in waiting, an empty chair beside him at the head of the table. “Are we waiting for someone Eris?”
“Yes actually. Shell be here any moment, she likes making an entrance.” Something bothers Azriel with the way the high lord smirks. He didn’t know who was going to walk through that door but he had a feeling he wasn’t going to like it.
The door swings open, a woman stepping through, decked in a gorgeous burnt orange dress, green and gold accents around her body, a golden crown, one looking like leaves woven together rests on her head. As her eyes catch Eris’ she smiles. “Sorry I’m late. Hope you haven’t started without me.” She surveys the room before stepping towards the empty seat. Eris stands, going to pull it out with one hand and take hers on his other. The pause for a moment, facing the table together.
“Everyone. I’d like you to meet my fiance and the high lady of the Autumn court. Some of you may already know her.”
As the female turns to kiss Eris, it clicks for Azriel. “Yn.” He can’t help but gasps and that is when it finally hits the inner circle of the night court.
“Hello guys. Long time no see.”
Cassian speaks this time, his brows furrowed and mouth agape, “you- your with him? Your the high the high lady?”
“Yes, in fact our wedding is next month. I am terribly excited. Especially after being named the high lady of Autumn.” She and Eris sit finally, hands staying tied together
An agony Azriel has never felt tears through him as he stares at his mate. She looks back to him as he gasps, clenching his chest wildly.
“Azriel. I’d like to get through my first meeting as high lady. So if you could stop…flailing. That would be preferred.” Yn clears her throat before turning to the others at the table. “I’ve seen some things. I see Koshei. I thought we took care of our issues with him, however I-“
The meeting continues, the night court still trying to process the news. After the meeting is finished, the high lords are given a walk through of the new Autumn court. “Yn. Yn can we speak please.” It was towards the end of the tour, courts had been led to where they’d be staying, only the inner circle trailed behind, minus Morrigan and Cassian who had been dropped off to their respective rooms.
I choose to ignore the shadowsinger, instead stopping at the next door and turn back to Rhysand and Feyre, “You two will be staying here. This castle works much like the house of wind. It will cater to you, we do tend keep things much warmer here for obvious reasons so if you are uncomfortable with the temperature just say the word and it will be brought down by the house.”
“Goodnight Yn.” I nod before turning back to lead the final male to where he’d be staying, Eris never leaving my side. We barely make it three steps down the hall before I feel Rhsyand pry at my mental walls.
‘What do you want Rhysand.’
‘You should talk to him Yn. He’s been devastated since you left and see you with Eris killed him I-‘
I shut it down. I don’t want to hear some sob story from my mate who didn’t even want me till I was gone. “You will be staying here Azriel. What I said to Rhysand and Feyre goes the same for you.”
Me and Eris turn to leave before I’m grabbed by the arm. “Wait. Yn can we please just talk.”
Eris growls. “Get your filthy hands off my fucking finance.”
The shadowsinger seems to get just as upset, opening his mouth to speak before I rip my arm from his grasp and turn, a glare resting on my features.
“Don’t you fucking dare! You have no right- no fucking right to get angry at my fiancée! Do you understand, you didn’t want me and I don’t fucking want you so go wallow in your self pity but stay the hell away from me!” Eris rubs soothing circles on my arm, a glare that could kill sent towards the shadowsinger as he grabs me, winnowing us to our room.
—————
Sooo I hope this lives up to your guys’ expectations!
#acotar x reader#azriel x reader#acotar#azriel#elain archeron#elain x reader#feyre archeron#feyre x reader#nesta archeron#nesta x reader#cassian x reader#cassian#rhysand x reader#rhysand#eris vanserra#eris x reader#replaced#angst#no happy ending
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STRAY
#!WHO : SHIGARAKI TOMURA
#!CC: puppygirl!reader, thoughts of depravity, readers kinda naive, no thots just dick, there’s no expressive consent but reader’s kinda dumb and needy, use of “doggy” and “pup”. reader does actually bark (not them arf, yips! like a husky, heady bark.) MDNI.
+bringing back this banger from my old blog. you can also read it on my ao3. im nervous lol idk how its gonna hold up 2 years later, diff audience. i can’t remember the ask specifically but it was something like Shigaraki finding a stray and he ends up using her. omg and i want to tag @bakatenshii idk if you remember my old alias but i do remembered you loved this fic!
+NETWORK(S): @angelshub @bitchcraftinc (i keep forgetting to do this mL, excuse the random @/lovelies)
“Good girl,” Shigaraki whispers and he really means it, at least for now. It makes him think having a pet like you may not be all that bad…
Shigaraki still wonders how he ever let this be, an animal-woman hybrid living in his already cramped apartment. Doesn’t know why he hadn’t bothered to kick you out either. But it could be anybody’s guess as to why you still remain.
It all started when he got into an argument with his landlord, one that required him the self control to back off and avoid killing the bastard. It was rainy but Shigaraki paid no mind to the stinging raindrops that pelted his skin and soaked his clothes. It was dark out, but not too dark as to not notice you cowering against the side of his building upon his return. Your eyes were closed as you trembled in the cold rain.
Shigaraki didn’t know why he found himself moving closer to get a better look at you but when your eyes shot open, he found himself almost curious. He’d never seen anything like you before. Especially when your ears, you very doglike ears twitched forward, erect and alert. But you didn’t seem all that afraid. You were dressed in soaked shirt that was too big for you as it sagged off your body.
He crouched down and you inched toward him reluctantly and as you moved from your previous position, his eyes sought out the tail that had been tucked in between your legs.
“Hey, there you are,” Someone cooed from behind him. Shigaraki turned to eye the man. There was nothing all that remarkable about him; he wore all black, his hood over his head save for a few dark locks that stuck to his brows. Shigaraki wasn’t the least bit intimidated. But that couldn’t be said for you as you frantically dove into his arms, letting out a frightened whimper. Your ears flattened against your head as your hands curled into Shigaraki’s coat.
He wanted to back you off and leave from the situation as it had nothing to do with him and was fixing to do so when he looked down. Your pupils were blown and eyes glossy, pleading.
He sighed before standing, pulling you up with him to stand on trembling feet.
“She yours?” Shigaraki mumbled. You moved behind him, your hands tightening on his clothes.
“Heh, yeah, ran right out through the door. Isn’t that right baby?” You growled all while cowering behind Shigaraki’s form.
“No collar,” Shigaraki noted.
“Been meaning to get her one. C’mon baby, why don’t you leave the nice man alone and come back home with me?” He cooed.
The utter confidence and trust you had in Shigaraki at this moment was appalling. He barely covered the man in terms of height and upon first glance, he looked rather average. Definitely not the type to win in a fist fight. So why were you so dependent on him to save you?
Shigaraki didn’t have time to really think too much about it because the man advanced, silver glinting under the streetlamp. You yelped and cowered back against the wall again, covering your eyes.
You heard a grunt followed by a pained cry as that then died into the sound of pelting rain. When you lowered your shaky hands, Shigaraki was standing over a pile of what looked to be ash, the knife a few feet away.
Ever since that night, he couldn’t seem to shake you.
You’re loyal and to him, it’s annoying. Showing up at his doorsteps turns into you sleeping on his ratty couch. His chasing you away turns into grumbles of tolerance. The typical sneer he wears when you come sniffing around dissolved in hidden blushes and twitched lips as your distrustful cowering eventually turn into you becoming disturbingly comfortable around him.
After another day of pressing his key into the lock does he already see you on the other side of the door, tail whipping back and forth in excitement as you await his return. Except he isn’t really in the mood. Today was particularly bad and he wanted nothing more than to possibly let off steam, maybe watch something, blow his load and sleep.
“Stupid mutt, stop doing that!” He growls when his back immediately slams against the door, eyes narrowed in the way you smile up at him.
“Welcome home sir.” You beamed.
Another thing you picked up was calling him ‘sir’. Despite the many times he tells you not to. He wasn’t your last owner, and honestly, he’d like it if you didn’t call him anything. But every one of his complaints go through one ear and out the other with you having half the intelligence of an actual dog.
He recoils when he feels your tongue graze his neck. Groans when it doesn’t just end there. You’re licking his chin, his neck, and when your tongue laps over his lips, he’s trying to buck you off. But you’re so persistent as you press further against him, your front grinding up against his groin unknowingly.
Shigaraki bites back a moan at your ignorance, his cock already hardening from your aimless shifting.
You couldn’t feel the bulge pushing against your thigh? The soft grunts he’d release when you’d lap at the rough skin of his neck? You can’t be that stupid or then maybe you are.
But would it be that bad if you are? Because then he wouldn’t feel guilty when he dreams of stuffing you full with his cock. You practically ask for it every chance you get with him. The sleeping in his bed, your excessive show of affection, the sickening devotion in your eyes.
And then, isn’t it what he deserved? He did save you that night. Do you even remember how easy it could have been for him to just walk away? To give you up to that creep? Sure it only happened a few weeks ago but he thinks of that night as if it was only the last. How when he brought you home and went to retrieve a towel to dry you up, you were on your hands and knees practically presenting yourself to him as you slumped in exhaustion. As if giving him the go ahead to do what he wanted to and by gods, it took everything with him not to.
He wasn’t a hero, not by a long shot. And maybe you didn’t have the mental capacity to accept that he was actually a villain because in your eyes, he was your savior.
But as said, today was a particularly bad day and right now he felt anything but.
So just this once he’ll give in. Whether you wanted it or not didn’t matter to him at this point, already past contemplation. After all you’re his pet now, his property and if he can’t do this then what good are you really?
You release your little whimpers and when you look up, your eyes are wide, so full of confusion when he suddenly has you on your hands and knees pressing into you from behind on the floor. Your owner wears a new look, his eyes so feral, teeth gritted. And you know that look; it was the look of your last owner among all the other men that tried to take you on the streets. Hunger. Greed. Desperation.
And you should be wary, should cower away from the carnality in his eyes because you know better than anyone that when it’s present one thing is desired. Yet, you hold your ground. You don’t struggle, in fact he could just make out the way your hips shimmy back a little bit and the whine that surfaces from your throat.
You just can’t help it, the air around you has changed. A thick cloud of hot lust is weighing down around you and so much so, you can’t help but to submit. Besides you trust him one for reasons you can’t figure out.
Shigaraki refuses to meet your eyes, instead he quickly fumbles with his belt and takes out his hard cock. A blush spreads across his face when he eyes the steady slick trailing down your thighs and upon closer inspection he can see how swollen you were and that’s what does him in.
It’s what has him surging forward, bottoming out completely inside of you. Your ears flatten against your head as you let out the neediest sounding moan, one that has a shiver licking down his spine.
“Shit. Shit,” He should feel ashamed, taking advantage of you like this. But he clings on the fact that he’s a villain, that’s his justification. A villian with his pet, that’s all this is.
It’s fueling his newfound vigor as he speeds up, the heat of your tight cunny sucking him in with every cant of his hips.
His fingers dig into the plush of your hips as his own thrust forward, his cock forcing past your tight ring of muscle. You look back again, your eyes glossy with tears, long tongue hanging out as you whine and pant. He was so thick, so heavy within your tight, hot walls. Your nails scrape helplessly against the dingy carpet as he rocks into you with so much drive.
In the midst of your panting and whining surfaces his voice, so grating and filthy as he tumbles every degrading name in the book. It should worry him and yet it has his stomach knotting up, his thighs and glutes tightening as he holds on to your hips for dear life. And in the midst of that is the loud, wet, shlicks of each sink into you.
“My needy little bitch. Taking my cock like a good doggy,” He grits, eyeing the recoil of your ass against his hips.
His hand seeks out the base of your tail as he uses it as leverage to pull you back onto his cock. And it hurts, it has the tears spilling over and yet, your cunt only tightens around him some more.
“F-Feels good sir!” You cry out at about the same time as he mumbles,
“Good doggy, such a good pup,” And at his praise, your ears bend forward, and your tail begins to switch slowly in his gasp. You feel a knot in your tummy, desperately winding down to what you’re chasing. It has you rocking back against him needy to have, so so needy. And the way your resolve has melted away, it makes all his thoughts of guilt completely vanish, leaving him with an unbearable need to fill you up.
He’s quickly pulling out and flipping you onto your back, nails digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as he spreads you wide.
You were so wet, inhumanly so as it’s gushing down onto the carpet and the sight alone has him nearly cumming right then and there but he holds it. At least until he’s thrusting into you again, your head thrown back as you let out a broken whine. Your tits bounce with all the force he’s using as he’s putting everything into these last moments. His one track kind only focuses in the tuft of fur above your cunny, at the way your puffy lips pull part each time he's pushing forward and the slick coating his cock.
You’re yelping with each kiss he delivers to your cervix, hands desperate to hold onto to your new owner. You reach out and he grasps your wrists, using you to thrust impossibly deeper into you. Static fills his mind as his eyes roll back, his hips slamming against yours, balls smacking your ass each time.
“Fuck, fuck cumming!”
“Sir! Sir please-” You cut your own self off with a heady bark, one that startles him. It’s also what has him groaning as he twitches, his seed spilling so suddenly into you. Your pussy milks him as you gush around his dick and it has him falling over, elbows pressed into the carpet on either side of your head. Your legs wrap around his waist as your hips shimmy up against him, whining as you push past your own limits, twitching every so slightly at the overstimulation and sealing this moment of what would be the best one in your simple little head.
“Good girl,” Shigaraki whispers and he really means it, at least for now. It makes him think having a pet like you may not be all that bad.
He also thinks he should probably name you.
dilfos. do not plagiarize any parts of my content— current or archival. all rights reserved.
#shigaraki tomura x reader#tomura shigaraki x reader#bnha x reader#shigaraki tomura x you#bnha#my hero academia#bnha fanfiction#boku no hero acedamia#bnha tomura#shigaraki tomura#tomura shigraki#ik its too early to post but i want it out of my drafts before i change my mind about posting it#mha shigaraki#bnha shigaraki#boost if you can#[ output—☆ ]#tw hybrids
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♡︎ 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙮 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙗𝙚𝙜 ♡︎
anon asked: i have a request!! male!dom!reader and sub!scara with ton of overstim and dacryphillia with maybe a bit of begging too? the rest is up to you!!
characters: sub!scaramouche x male!dom!reader
warnings: dacryphillia, overstimulation, begging, praise, degrading, brat taming, cockwarming, bondage, hair tugging, oral fixation, dumbification
notes: i’m kinda surprised that ppl actually req male readers to me cue me remembering the fiasco with the anon who said i should stop tagging my works as male reader akdjjsn
also anon pls come forward and clarify which one you are so i can properly tag if ur already an emoji anon that is cuz i forgor
you love your darling wanderer, you swear! but you just can’t hell but get a little ticked off at his mean words, crude remarks and bratty attitude. huffing when you explain to him that you have work to do, forcibly showing himself on your lap with a “pay attention to me!” type of look and yet now he doesn’t want it when he finally gets what he was begging for?
just as you were finally starting to focus on your current task at hand, a low whine is heard from under your desk. looking down at the culprit, you gave him a small ruffle to his head.
there he was! your sweet boyfriend with his hand tied behind his back, eyes hazy with tears brimming in them, face flushed the deepest shade of red with his whiny mouth swallowing your cock down his throat. fuck he can’t think… he couldn’t even breathe correctly with your cock forcing his jaw wide open, mushroom tip hitting the back of his throat as he tried not to gag and choke.
“just a few more papers, darling. i’m almost done” giving a few gentle pats to his head, you pulled your hand away before focusing on the papers in your hand. scribbling down something on the projects, declining, accepting some preferences and signing your signature on the ends of the paper until someone broke your concentration.
looking back down under your desk, you saw wanderer lightly bobbing his head up and down on your cock. sliding his tongue under some noticeable veins, whimpering at the taste of your precum, he just couldn’t help but act so greedy like an animal in heat.
fisting at his short locks, you pulled him off of your member as he gasped. drool slipping from his mouth, a thin saliva connecting the angry red tip of your cock to his bruised lips. panting, breathing heavily, he opened and closed his mouth over and over to try and ease the sore muscles.
“are you trying to get me angry, kuni?” holding his chin in your hand, you gave his cheeks a light warning squeeze. at your question wanderer tried to answer, failing as a long drawn whine escapes the back his throat with a tear falling down his cheek at being denied the sweet, creamy taste of your cum.
he was a lost cause. tiny hips bucking in the air as his bare body shivered - from excitement? cold? you didn’t know - alongside his small cock flopping helplessly against his stomach.
“p-please? please [name]… i need more~!” a lecherous sounding noise between a whine and a mewl escapes his mouth as more tears fell down his plush cheeks.
“more? more what?” feigning innocence at his pleas, you couldn’t help the growing smirk on your face. brats needs to be punished for their misbehaviors after all and it seems like this is the best form of punishment for your brat.
the puppet couldn’t help but blush at your words. he wanted to ask for what he wanted but it was just so shameful. a former fatui harbinger, a puppet of a god - being reduced to a mewling mess who pleads for his lover’s cock? this was too embarrassing! he has pride to keep and name to uphold!
at his silence, your grin grew more wider as your hand holding his cheek gets a bit tighter as a warning. he keened at that, trying to paw at your hand to ask for your mercy but his hands were tied tightly behind him with a pretty navy blue satin cloth. only the best for your darling of course.
taking a deep, stuttered breath he looked up at you through his messed up bangs. dilated, heart shaped pupils staring up at you with greed and lust, he pushed his chin up to your crotch as much as he could with the restraint that is your hand.
“please…? give me more of your cock” whispering breathlessly in a hushed manner as if he was sharing the most darkest secrets with you, wanderer took a quick glance at your dripping slit.
wet with saliva from his previous cockwarming, twitching here and there with your translucent colored precum dripping from the slit as wanderer gulped. hot bubbling lava swirling around in his stomach as he imagined your delicious seeds shooting into his mouth and down his throat, he let out a soft whimper at his fantasy, rubbing his thighs together to try and give his small cocklet some friction.
“since you asked so nicely, say aah~” teasing him more, you tugged his mouth close to your member as he eagerly kissed the mushroom tip with his blush darkening. licking up the visible veins around your girth before the puppet opened up his small mouth, happily pushing your cock into his mouth until he gagged halfway in. but that didn’t stop him as the short male forced his jaw open wider, swallowing up each and every inch with choked sobs and gurgled moans until his nose snuggled up close to your crotch with your member sitting heavily, heavenly down his throat.
ahh, if wanderer were to die with your dick sitting snuggly down his mouth as he gagged and cried, he wouldn’t mind it at all.
taking in a deep breath through his nose, he braced himself before starting to bob his head. starting out slow, dragging his tongue under the girthy muscles your boyfriend choked as he felt your cock push all the way back into his uvula.
however that didn’t stop him as wanderer only sped up the movements of his head, forcing himself to swallow your member as his mind slips off. only your scent surrounding him, your groans and huffs blessing his ears, your dick filling him up - you you you you!
harshly tugging on his purple locks, you pushed his mouth all the way to swallow up your cum as you groaned out loudly into the air. wanderer didn’t mind it, in fact he loved it as he swallowed every single drop happily. blush darkening more, spreading into his shoulders as he finally got what he wanted.
pushing his mouth off, you manhandled your short boyfriend to lay on the bed. red eyeliner ruined as he cried - from bliss? happiness? pleasure? pain? you didn’t know and neither did he - drool slipping down his jawline without a trace of your cum, pretty purple eyes hazy with their pupils dilated to the brim you couldn’t even see the colors and cheeks a beautiful shade of red.
slipping a hand between his quivering thighs you pushed them open, revealing his doughy skin tainted with his own fluids covering them. did he seriously cum from just sucking you off? how cute♡︎.
pulling the small dildo pushed into his hole, you ignored his miserable whines of feeling empty before filling him up again with your own cock - oddly feeling jealous and possessive of him over the stupid toy - making him let out a happy squeal at the fullness.
without giving him any time to catch his breath or get his bearings back together, you held his plush waist in a bruising grip before ramming into his hole.
“aaANNH! [NAME]!! shogoOD — SHOGOODSHOGOOD❤︎︎❤︎︎!!” whining over and over about how good it feels, how your cock is rearranging his guts, how your molding his ass to be perfectly in your shape and whatsoever, wanderer let out a sobbing mewl as you came inside him. but you weren’t satisfied. you wanted to fill him up more.
the next morning your neighbors complained about the noises your darling lover made causing his face to heat up in embarrassment. maybe you should muzzle him next time♡︎.
#nobu.writes#sub genshin#sub genshin impact#sub!genshin#sub!genshin impact#sub scaramouche#sub!scaramouche#genshin impact smut#genshin impact x reader smut#genshin smut#genshin x reader smut#scaramouche smut#wanderer smut#sub wanderer#dom!amab reader#dom!reader#dom amab reader#dom reader#dom male reader#x dom reader
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