#why are we taking everything so seriously all of the time

[stargazsblog]

how to lose a girl in 10 days | ch.3 second move

ryomen sukuna x fem!reader

ʚɞ ryomen sukuna is tall, devastatingly handsome, and the campus heartbreaker. everyone knows his name, and his reputation for leaving girls with broken hearts. but then there's you uninterested and completely unimpressed by him. you're the only girl who couldn't care less about him. when his friends tease him about it, everything changes. they challenge him with a bet to make you, the one person who isn't affected by his charm, fall in love with him in just 10 days, sukuna accepts the challenge, thinking it'll be an easy win. it's just a game, a way to prove he can get any girl he wants. but the more time he spends with you, he finds himself wanting something he never expected.

ʚɞ warning/tags: angst, fluff, romance, use of cigarettes and alcohol, jealousy, asshole sukuna, heartbreak, inspired by how to lose a guy in 10 days, college au, enemies to lovers.

ʚɞ now playing - no. 1 party anthem by arctic monkeys

masterlist

note: new chapter! this one took awhile to write but i hope u love!! happy new year <3

The ring of the doorbell jolted you awake, pulling an annoyed groan from your lips. You turned over in your bed, calling out, “Shoko, can you get the door?” Your voice was muffled against your pillow, and you waited, hoping for the sound of her footsteps.

Nothing. No response.

The doorbell rang again, this time louder. You let out a frustrated sigh, throwing off the blankets as you dragged yourself out of bed. “Seriously, Shoko?” you muttered under your breath, shuffling to your bedroom door. You made your way to the front door, each step heavy with sleep-induced annoyance.

When you opened the door, the sight before you gave you pause. No one was there.

Your gaze dropped to the ground.

A massive bouquet of roses sat on your doorstep. You blinked, momentarily stunned.

“What the…?” you murmured, crouching to pick up the bouquet. It was heavier than you expected, the delicate scent of roses filling the air.

Closing the door behind you, you carried the flowers into the living room, setting them down on the table. Shoko, now leaning against the kitchen doorway with a steaming mug of coffee in hand, raised an eyebrow at the sight.

“What’s with the flowers?” she asked, taking a sip.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, still staring at the extravagant bouquet. “Maybe they’re for you?”

Shoko shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t think so. Check for a note.”

Spotting a small envelope tucked among the flowers, you pulled it out and opened it. Your stomach flipped when you read the words.

“thought these were almost as stunning as you let me know if they compare – sukuna”

You felt your heart skip a beat as you stared at the note. Sukuna? Your brow furrowed in confusion. Why would Ryomen Sukuna, of all people, send you flowers?

“Sukuna?” you repeated aloud, more to yourself than Shoko.

“How does he even know where we live?” you asked, a mix of confusion and suspicion in your voice.

“Oh… I may or may not have taken Geto home the other night. And he might have told Sukuna where we live.”

Your head snapped toward her, eyes wide. “What?! You hooked up with Geto? And you didn’t tell me this?”

Shoko shrugged nonchalantly, setting her mug down. “It didn’t seem relevant at the time. It was just a fling. No big deal.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “No big deal? Shoko, this guy knows where we live! Do you know how creepy that is?”

“Relax,” Shoko said with a chuckle, clearly enjoying your distress. “It’s not like he’s lurking outside your window or something. He just… sent flowers.”

You groaned, sinking into the chair next to the table. “Great. Just what I needed. First he buys me snacks and now he’s sending me flowers? What’s his deal?”

“Maybe he likes you,” Shoko teased, her grin widening.

You shot her a glare. “That’s not funny.”

“No, but this whole situation is.” She chuckled, You had barely had time to response when your phone buzzed on the table, the screen lighting up with an incoming message from Ryomen Sukuna.

You hesitated for a moment, your fingers hovering over the screen. Was he really texting you already? What could he possibly want now?

You unlocked your phone, bracing yourself as you read his message.

12:20PM Sukuna Ryomen: so how’d you like the flowers?

You frowned. So he’s really going to go there? You glanced over at Shoko.

“Shoko… Sukuna just texted me.”

Shoko raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by your discomfort. “Well, well, look at that. He’s not wasting time.”

You glanced back at the message, unsure whether to ignore it or respond. You couldn’t help it, this was unexpected. After a few seconds, you typed out a reply.

12:20PM You: why did you send them? what do you want?

You hit send and sat back, unsure whether you’d made the right call. It felt a bit too direct, but you didn’t care.

Your phone buzzed again, and you jumped slightly, then glanced down at his response.

12:20PM Sukuna Ryomen: no need to overthink it i just thought you deserved something nice

“What does that even mean?” you muttered aloud.

You typed out another reply, trying to keep your cool.

12:21PM You: just a random act of kindness then? what’s the catch

You waited, feeling the tension rise as you glanced at Shoko, who was still watching with amusement.

The text pinged almost immediately.

12:21PM Sukuna Ryomen: no catch just thought you might like them unless you don’t then I’ll send you something better

You stared at the message, your stomach doing a strange little flip.

“Okay, now he’s just being cocky,” you said, shaking your head, showing shoko the text.

Shoko stares at your phone, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “That’s the fun part. He’s definitely interested.”

You let out a sigh, running a hand through your hair. Great. What was happening here? You barely knew Sukuna. Sure, everyone on campus knew who he was, the tall, cocky heartbreaker, but you’d never even had a proper conversation with him.

Now, suddenly, he was everywhere. Sending flowers, finding excuses to cross your path, and even inviting you to parties. It wasn’t normal.

Your chest tightened at the thought. Something is definitely going on… and you don’t like it.

What did Sukuna even want? Was this just another conquest for him? Another name to add to his list?

“Earth to you,” Shoko’s voice broke through your thoughts, snapping you back to reality.

“You’re overthinking again.”

“I’m not overthinking,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “I just don’t get it. Why me? He could have anyone on campus, and he usually does. So why is he suddenly obsessed with showing up in my life?”

Shoko shrugged, but her smirk didn’t waver. “Maybe he finally met someone he can’t figure out. Guys like Sukuna hate not being in control. You’re probably driving him insane.”

“Good,” you shot back quickly, but the unease in your chest didn’t go away. Sukuna wasn’t just annoying—he was persistent, calculating, and way too good at getting what he wanted. And right now, you were in his sights.

And that was a problem.

"Shoko, please, I don't wanna go," you begged, standing at the doorway of your room as she rummaged through your closet. The hangers clinked together as she shifted through your clothes, her focus unwavering.

"I swear, if you don't go to this party, I'll never let you live it down." Shoko's voice was light, teasing, but there was a persistence behind it that you knew well.

She wasn't going to give up until you were dressed and ready to walk out that door.

You flopped down onto your bed, burying your face in your hands. "I already went to one party yesterday, and nothing happened. What's the point of going again?"

Shoko pulled out a short black dress and held it up, eyeing it with approval. "Except this time, you've got Sukuna inviting you."

You threw your arms up in frustration. "Yeah, so what? It's not like he actually cares. He's probably just doing this to mess with me. I'm not his type, and I'm definitely not falling for whatever act he's putting on."

Shoko leaned against the wall, unbothered by your complaints. "I'm not saying you have to fall for him, but you're not going to get anywhere by avoiding him. He's clearly paying attention to you, and you're not going to know what he's really about unless you go and talk to him."

You sat up on your bed, staring at her in disbelief.

"Why does it matter? I don't want to deal with him. I don't want to go to another party just to have him act like he's the center of the universe."

Shoko grinned like she knew exactly how to push your buttons. "Because, whether you like it or not, you've got his attention. You're not going to find out anything if you keep running from him. Plus, if you don't go, he's just going to think you're scared."

You slumped back onto your bed, exhaling deeply. "I just don't want to make a fool of myself."

Shoko walked over and sat next to you, nudging your shoulder. "Look, I know he's a pain. But you're strong enough to handle him. If you don't go, you'll just be left wondering what could have happened, and that'll drive you crazy. You don't want to keep playing the ‘what if' game forever."

You stared at her, your frustration building. "So, you think if I go, he's just going to magically be less of a jerk? What if he's just messing with me like he does with everyone else?"

Shoko chuckled softly, standing up and holding up a dress. "I'm not saying he'll be perfect, but you'll never know unless you show up. And if he really is that bad, then you'll have the satisfaction of knowing you weren't the one falling for it."

You sighed, the thought of facing Sukuna again making your stomach turn. But part of you couldn't help wondering what his deal really was. "I just don't want to deal with him."

Shoko raised an eyebrow. "Then don't deal with him.

“Go, enjoy yourself, and don't let him have the power to bother you. He invited you for a reason, and if you don't show up, he'll just just bother you even more."

You hesitated, chewing on your lip. You didn't want to go, but the idea of leaving things unresolved with Sukuna was nagging at you. "Fine," you muttered, finally giving in. "But don't say I didn't warn you when I end up miserable the whole time."

Shoko grinned, practically bouncing with excitement.

"I knew you'd come around! Now, get ready. We're going to show him how hot you are!"

You stared at the dress in your hands, running your fingers over the sparkly fabric. It was shorter than anything you'd ever worn before, the tightness of the material hugging your curves in a way you weren't used to.

With a deep sigh, you headed to your bathroom to change. The tight fabric clung to your skin as you slipped it on, the black dress glimmering with every movement. You didn't feel like yourself in it, but there was no turning back now. The dress barely reached mid-thigh, the hemline sitting just above your knees.

It showcased your hip dips, and the sparkle caught the light, making you feel exposed.

You stared at your reflection, arms crossing over your chest as you tried to will the discomfort away. The dress was beautiful, but it felt like it was wearing you instead of the other way around. You pulled at the fabric slightly, wishing it were a little looser, but it was perfectly fitted-almost like it was designed to demand attention.

You turned back to the door, hearing Shoko's voice coming from the other side. "You almost done?

“Come on, hurry up!"

You sighed and opened the door, stepping out into your bedroom. Shoko immediately turned to face you, a pleased grin crossing her face as she took in your appearance. "See? you look fucking hot.”

You glared at her. "I hate how tight this thing is," you muttered, tugging at the edges. You still couldn't get over how exposed you felt.

Shoko tilted her head, her eyes scanning you up and down. "You look sexy. And don't even try to pretend like you don't know it. The dress is doing all the work for you."

You shot her a side-eye, clearly not convinced. “It's too... much."

"It's not "too much,” she said with a playful smirk, grabbing the black heels she'd given you. "It's exactly what you need. Go, have fun, and let Sukuna see that how hot you are. You're owning this look, whether you want to or not."

You hesitated, staring at your reflection one last time.

The dress did make you look... different. More confident. Maybe it was the sparkle that made you feel like you could shine, even if you didn't want to.

You slipped on the heels, feeling your posture shift as you stood taller. You looked at Shoko.

"You better not make me regret this.”

Shoko grinned, “I won't promise. Now, let me put on some makeup.”

The music was already thumping when you and Shoko walked into the house, the bass rattling the floor beneath your heels. The place was packed, people swaying to the beat or crowded into clusters, shouting over the noise. You tugged at the hem of your dress, still feeling self-conscious as you followed closely behind Shoko.

Shoko grabbed your wrist and pulling you off to the side, away from the thick of the crowd. "Listen," she said, her tone softer now. "If you're not feeling it, just let me know, and we'll leave. I'm not going to make you stay if it gets to be too much, okay?"

You hesitated, her seriousness catching you off guard.

"Okay," you muttered, glancing around the room. “But don't disappear on me."

Shoko grinned, patting your arm. "I won't. You've got this."

Before you could say anything else, a familiar voice cut through the noise, making your stomach drop.

"Well, well, you actually showed up."

You turned to see Sukuna. He looked really good, dressed in a fitted black shirt that showed off his toned arms and just enough of his tattoos to make him look effortlessly cool.

You immediately stiffened, your guard going up.

"Unfortunately," you muttered under your breath, but he heard it, the smirk on his face only growing wider.

"Don't sound too excited, sweetheart," he teased, his eyes briefly flicking to Shoko before returning to you.

He let his gaze sweep over you, slowly, his tongue running over his lips as he did. "I was starting to think you were avoiding me."

"Maybe I was," you shot back, folding your arms over your chest.

Sukuna chuckled, the sound low and infuriatingly self-assured. He took a step closer, his gaze dipping ever so slightly to take in the curve of your dress before flicking back up to your face. The way he looked at you, slow and deliberate, made your skin heat—though whether it was from irritation or something else, you weren’t sure.

“Can’t blame you,” he said. “But you’re here now, and that’s what matters, right?”

You narrowed your eyes, refusing to let him get under your skin. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m not here for you.”

“Sure,” he drawled, leaning against the wall like he had all the time in the world. “You just happened to show up to the party I invited you to, wearing that.”

Your jaw tightened, and you squared your shoulders. “What I wear has nothing to do with you.”

“Doesn’t it?” His voice dropped, the playful edge replaced with something darker, more intense. His eyes roamed over you again, lingering just long enough to make you want to punch him.

“Don’t test me, Sukuna,” you snapped, your voice sharp enough to make Shoko glance between the two of you with raised brows.

He grinned, utterly unbothered by your tone. If anything, he seemed more amused, like he enjoyed riling you up. “Relax, sweetheart. I’m just saying you look good.”

“Did I ask for your opinion?”

“No,” he said easily, his smirk widening. “But you’ve got it anyway.”

Shoko cleared her throat, her expression caught between amusement and concern. “Well, this is fun,” she said lightly. “But I’m going to grab a drink. You good?”

You gave her a tight nod, watching as she disappeared into the crowd. The second she was out of sight, Sukuna closed the gap between you, his presence immediately overwhelming

Sukuna glanced at Shoko walking away, then back to you, his gaze softening just a little, but the cocky smile never wavered. “She didn’t get you a drink?” he asked, an eyebrow raised.

“No,” you replied dryly.

Sukuna stepped closer, his closeness almost making you take a step back, though you tried to stand your ground. “I could get you something. Whatever you want.”

“I’m fine,” you repeated, your voice tight. “And I didn’t ask for anything from you.”

“Sure you didn’t.” He chuckled, and there was something almost teasing in the way his eyes lingered on you. “But that dress? You’re asking for something.”

You tensed, resisting the urge to snap back. “I came here to hang out with my friend, not to be ogled by you.”

He stepped back, feigning mock hurt. “I’m just admiring your taste in fashion. But I’m guessing you didn’t come here to be sober all night either.”

And he was right, you knew how annoyed you’d be with Sukuna, so you figured you’d need something to take the edge off.

You gave him an unamused look. “I’m not your project to fix.”

“Maybe not.” He shrugged. “But I’ll be around if you change your mind.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could, a girl approached from the crowd, her voice dripping with flirtation.

“Sukuna,” she said, her voice laced with sweetness as she placed a hand on his arm. “I missed you last night. You just left without saying goodbye.”

Her gaze shifted toward you, and her smile faltered for just a second, her eyes narrowing slightly as she sized you up. “Is this your girlfriend?”

Sukuna simply shrugged. “Nah,” he said dismissively, like it didn’t matter. “Not my girlfriend.

The girl didn’t seem to care, her smile staying in place as she leaned a little closer to him. “Well, maybe tonight, you’ll stick around longer,” she said, her voice sweet as she twirled a lock of her hair.

But Sukuna didn’t seem all that interested in her attention. With a casual flick of his wrist, he lightly pushed her off his arm, not even looking down at her. “You’re in my way,” he said, completely nonchalant.

The girl blinked in surprise but quickly recovered. She didn’t seem to know how to react, standing there for a moment before scoffing and walking away, muttering under her breath.

You couldn’t help but notice how effortless Sukuna had been in dismissing her. He didn’t even look bothered, and it almost seemed like the girl was just an annoyance to him.

Turning his attention back to you, his smirk was back, as if the whole encounter had been nothing more than a brief interruption. “Jealous?” he asked, his voice low and playful.

You arched an eyebrow, trying not to let your annoyance show. “Not even close,” you replied, crossing your arms.

He leaned in slightly, his eyes narrowing just enough to show that he wasn’t buying it. “That’s a lie, sweetheart. You’re not fooling anyone.”

You stepped back, uncomfortable under his gaze, but refused to let him win this little game. “I’m not interested in whatever game you’re playing,” you said firmly, your voice steady.

Sukuna tilted his head, studying you for a moment. “I’m not playing a game,” he said softly, the words almost too quiet for the music around you to drown out.

The tension between you two was noticeable, thick enough to cut through the noise of the party around you. And for a moment, neither of you spoke, just standing there, locked in this strange, unspoken understanding.

Before you could respond, Shoko suddenly appeared next to you, a drink in her hand. “You okay?” she asked, looking between you and Sukuna.

You let out a breath, forcing yourself to relax. “Yeah, just fine,” you said quickly, turning your attention to your friend.

Sukuna didn’t seem bothered by the interruption. In fact, he just nodded, as if he was used to things playing out this way. “Don’t let her scare you off,” he said casually to Shoko, though his eyes were still on you.

Shoko shot him a playful look before leaning in closer to you. “I’m just here to make sure you’re not falling for his charm,” she whispered, making sure Sukuna could hear. “But you seem to be handling it just fine.”

You smiled at her, grateful for the brief distraction. Sukuna didn’t say a word, but the look in his eyes said everything. He wasn’t done with you yet. With a scoff, he turned and walked away.

“Here,” Shoko said, handing you the drink. “You probably needed this.”

“Thanks,” you muttered, still feeling a little intimidated from Sukuna’s attention.

Shoko noticed this. “What happened? Was he being a little too much?”

You sighed and leaned against the counter. “You could say that.”

“Is it really that bad?” she asked, leaning in to talk more quietly. “I don’t know. I think you’ve got him curious.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m interested,” you shot back quickly.

Shoko shrugged, not at all fazed by your response. “I know, I know. But still… he’s kind of hard to resist, right?” She gave you a sly smile. “Anyway, I wanted to tell you about Geto. He’s been texting me all day. I’m honestly not sure what I’m doing with him anymore, though.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I thought you two were just having fun?”

“Well, we are, but… you know how it is.” Shoko waved her hand in the air dismissively. “Sometimes he acts all detached, and then he’ll show up out of nowhere like everything’s normal. He’s confusing, honestly.”

You didn’t know how to respond. Shoko had always played it cool, but it was clear she was a little unsure of where things stood with Geto. You didn’t press the issue, though, since you knew she’d tell you when she was ready.

Before you could respond, Gojo’s voice cut through the noise of the party, casual and upbeat as usual.

“Well, look who it is. The mysterious Shoko!”

You turned just in time to see Gojo walking over, his sunglasses perched on top of his head and that ever-present grin plastered on his face. He had the kind of confidence that was almost irritating, but you couldn’t help but smile at him.

“Hey, Gojo,” Shoko said, barely looking up from her drink. “You know I don’t like being called mysterious.”

Gojo chuckled, leaning in a little too close as he looked at you. “Oh, and who’s this?” His eyes twinkled mischievously. “Shoko, you’ve been holding out on me?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Not at all,” you said, keeping your tone light but firm. “I just don’t usually run in the same circles.”

Gojo let out a loud laugh. “Fair enough. But, if you ever decide to upgrade your circle, you know who to talk to.” He flashed a wink, then finally noticed your drink. “I’ll get you something better,” he said, turning toward the bar.

“Don’t bother,” you replied dryly. “I’m fine.”

Gojo just gave you a nod, understanding, and turned toward the crowd, disappearing into the throng of partygoers.

“Sorry about him,” Shoko muttered.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, shaking your head. “He’s harmless.”

Just then, Geto appeared, his presence a quiet different to Gojo’s loud antics. His gaze immediately found Shoko, and his expression softened, the tension you saw earlier melting away as he moved closer. Without saying a word, he slid an arm around her, pulling her in gently.

“Hi, babe,” Geto said quietly, his voice carrying just the right amount of affection.

“Hey,” Shoko responded, smiling up at him. “You surviving the chaos?”

“Barely,” Geto replied with a chuckle. “But it’s worth it now that you’re here.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the two of them. Even though you’d only just found out about their ‘relationship’, it was nice to see them together

“it’s good to see you,” Geto said, finally turning to face you fully. His smile was polite, but it didn’t reach his eyes the way it did when he looked at Shoko. “Shoko’s mentioned you a few times.”

You nodded, unsure how to respond. “She probably talks a lot about you, too,” you said, knowing it was a lie. Shoko had only mentioned him once.

Geto chuckled, though his expression was unreadable. “I’m sure she does. She’s not the type to hold back.”

Gojo cut in, grabbing a drink off a nearby table and offering it to you with a bright smile.

“Come on, take it,” he insisted. “I’m trying to make sure you’re having a good time.”

You glanced at Shoko, who gave you an almost unnoticeable nod, as if giving you permission to go along with it. After a brief moment of hesitation, you took the drink from Gojo.

“Thanks,” you said, your voice steady despite the slight tension in the air. Gojo grinned, completely unfazed by the moment.

“Anytime,” he said, his eyes glinting with playful mischief. “Just don’t let Shoko keep you all to herself, alright?”

You nodded at his words, glancing away as your eyes searched for Sukuna. It was strange that he wasn’t with his friends. As you scanned the room, you finally spotted him in the corner with a girl. Before you could make out what was happening, Geto let out a small cough, drawing your attention back. His voice was quiet but steady as he spoke again. “So, how have you been? I don’t think we’ve really had a chance to talk much.”

You blinked, surprised by his sudden shift in tone. “I’ve been fine. You know, the usual stuff. School and all that.”

Geto nodded thoughtfully. “Sounds like you’ve got things under control.” His gaze lingered on you for a moment, as if he was taking in more than just your words.

“Yeah,” you replied, unsure if there was more he wanted to say. It felt strange, like you were both trying to navigate the boundaries of something unspoken.

Gojo, sensing the shift, decided to add his usual touch of chaos to break the tension. “Alright, enough serious talk. We’re here to have fun, not talk about boring stuff. Right?”

Gojo leaned back casually against the wall, sipping his drink and letting his gaze wander around the party. “So,” he started, his grin mischievous as ever. “What’s it like living with Shoko? I imagine she has some… red flags.”

Shoko smacked his arm, rolling her eyes. “Don’t even start, Gojo. I’m a delight.”

You smirked. “She’s not lying. Living with Shoko’s pretty chill. Except for when she leaves coffee mugs everywhere.”

“Not everywhere,” Shoko interrupted. “Just… places.”

“You left one in the bathroom last week,” you deadpanned, and Gojo let out a loud laugh.

“Classic Shoko,” he said, shaking his head. “I bet Geto didn’t know you were a coffee hoarder.”

Shoko shot him a sharp look, her cheeks coloring slightly. “He’s not here to hear about my habits.”

Geto chuckled softly, watching the two of you with an amused expression. “It’s fine. I’ve seen worse.”

“Oh, so you’re saying you’ve already seen her coffee-stash phase?” Gojo teased, raising an eyebrow. “Interesting. Very interesting.”

Shoko groaned. “Ignore him. He gets worse the longer he’s at these things.”

“Don’t act like you don’t love it,” Gojo countered, his grin widening. His attention turned to you again, and he pointed at your drink. “You’re keeping up, right? No slacking.”

You raised the cup slightly in mock acknowledgment. “I’m pacing myself. Someone has to stay sober.”

“Smart,” Geto commented, his tone measured. He looked over at Shoko, then back to you, as if debating whether to say something. Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter now. “So, how’d Shoko convince you to come out tonight?”

“She gave me a pep talk,” you replied, casting a faint smile at Shoko. “I guess I just needed a break.”

“She’s good at that,” Geto said, his voice carrying a warmth that made Shoko glance at him, her lips curving into a small smile. “Pulling people out of their routines.”

You nodded, sipping your drink. “She’s definitely good at that.”

The moment felt oddly intimate, even with Gojo’s constant interruptions and the background noise of the party. You could feel Geto’s gaze linger just a little longer than expected, and Shoko seemed acutely aware of it, though she said nothing.

Gojo, never one to let things settle too long, broke the moment with a loud laugh. “Well, I’d say tonight’s shaping up to be interesting. Who knows? Maybe you’ll end up actually having fun.”

“Don’t jinx it,” you muttered, earning another laugh from him.

“Alright, alright,” Gojo said, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “I’ll behave, for now.”

Geto shook his head, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “That’s the best we can hope for.”

Shoko nudged your arm lightly. “Come on. Let’s find a spot to sit before Gojo gets us dragged into something.”

You nodded, grateful for the escape, but as the two of you started to move away, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Geto’s gaze following you.

You glanced back briefly, only to catch Geto and Gojo talking in hushed tones, their expressions unreadable. Whatever they were saying, it wasn’t meant for you to hear.

Shoko was nowhere to be found again, and you were left alone in the kitchen, trying to collect your thoughts as the weight of the party surrounded you. You hadn't planned to drink much, but somehow you found your cup refilled a few times, the alcohol making your thoughts blurrier and your resolve a little weaker.

That's when you felt it again, his presence. Sukuna.

He was never far, it seemed.

You could feel the pull of his eyes from across the room, and before you knew it, he was standing beside you, leaning casually against the counter.

"You're still here?" he asked, his voice low, almost teasing. He gave you a look that told you he knew exactly what was happening.

You rolled your eyes, trying to maintain your composure. "Would you leave me alone already?"

“So,” Sukuna ignored your words, his voice taking on a slightly softer tone. “What did you think of the flowers?”

You raised an eyebrow, a hint of confusion in your voice. “I thought I already told you.”

Sukana replied, his tone casual yet with an underlying intensity. “Yeah, but you didn’t seem genuine over text. Just wanted to make sure you actually liked them.” You didn’t respond, still confused about what he was asking.

“The flowers,” he repeated, crossing his arms. “The ones I sent you. Did you like them?”

For a moment, you couldn’t tell if he was being genuine or setting up another one of his smug remarks. “They were… nice,” you said cautiously.

“Nice?” he echoed. “I think that’s the most lame reaction I’ve ever gotten.”

“I didn’t ask for them,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “So forgive me if I don’t fall at your feet in gratitude.”

Sukuna tilted his head, watching you with a glint in his eye that made you feel both irritated and slightly uneasy. “You’re hard to impress, aren’t you?”

“That's because I’m not interested,” you replied firmly.

“Right,” he drawled, his tone skeptical but not unkind. “So that’s why you kept them.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his observation. “How do you know I kept them?”

He grinned, and he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping just enough to make the moment feel more intimate. “Because if you didn’t, you would’ve told me by now. You’re not shy about speaking your mind, sweetheart.”

Your cheeks warmed at his words, and you hated the way he always seemed to find a way under your skin. “Maybe I did throw them away,” you muttered, looking away.

Sukuna's lips twitched into a smile, clearly amused by you. "What a shame," he said, leaning closer, his body just inches from yours. "Because I could've sworn you were warming up to me."

You shook your head, trying to clear the fog from your mind, but it wasn't working. The alcohol had already taken its toll, and you could feel the way your body reacted to his nearness, even though you were determined to stay in control.

"I'm not warming up to anything," you muttered. The alcohol was making your thoughts slow, and the way Sukuna was looking at you made everything feel like it was happening in slow motion.

He smirked, leaning in a little further until his breath was warm against your ear. "You sure about that?" His voice was a husky whisper, sending a shiver down your spine. "Because I can't help but notice the way you keep glancing at me. You want to be close, don't you?"

Your eyes met his in a gaze that held all the unspoken tension between you. "You think you know everything, don't you?" Your voice came out quieter than you intended, and you weren't sure if you wanted him to pull away or pull you closer.

Sukuna didn't answer you. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your arm as he stepped in even closer. His lips barely brushed the skin of your neck, and the sensation made your head spin.

"Don't fight it," he murmured, his hand now resting at the small of your back, pulling you gently toward him. "I can tell you want this just as much as I do."

Your head was spinning a little, but you couldn't deny the truth in his words. The attraction was undeniable, and no matter how much you tried to ignore it, it was there, tugging you toward him.

With a slight sway, you felt your body move closer to his, the alcohol making you bold, making everything feel a little more... daring. Before you knew it, your arm slid around the back of his neck, pulling him closer, your face just inches from his. You could feel the heat of his skin, the tension in the air thickening with every breath.

He gave you a half-smirk, one eyebrow raised, the challenge in his eyes clear. "Kiss me," he murmured, his voice velvet against your ear, the words hanging between you like a promise. "I know you want to."

For a moment, you almost gave in. The alcohol, the tension, the undeniable pull between you, it all felt too strong. You could feel his lips just a breath away, your eyes fluttering closed. But then, you stopped yourself. You couldn't do this. Not with him.

You pulled back quickly, pushing against his chest to create some distance. Your breathing was heavy, and your thoughts were clouded.

But before either of you could say anything, the door to the kitchen swung open with a sharp creak.

"Really?" Shoko's voice cut through the moment. You both snapped back in an instant, startled, as she leaned casually in the doorway with her arms crossed. Her eyes scanned between you and Sukuna, amusement dancing in her expression. "I leave you alone for five minutes, and this is what happens?"

You froze, heart pounding in your chest, as Sukuna remained unfazed, a smirk curling at the edges of his lips.

Shoko raised an eyebrow, clearly unbothered. "Guess we're skipping the 'will-they-won't-they' phase tonight, huh?" She chuckled and shook her head. "Let's go. I'm getting you out of here before you do something you'll regret."

You wanted to protest, to stay, but the tension in the air was thick, and you could feel your head spinning from the alcohol. As you turned to follow Shoko, you heard Sukuna's voice, low and teasing. "See you later, sweetheart."

You wanted to punch yourself. You hated Sukuna, so why the hell had you almost kissed him? You knew it was the alcohol talking over you, but still… why did it feel so damn good?

He leaned against the counter, watching you disappear into the crowd, your figure disappearing behind a few people. Sukuna's smirk deepened. Day two and he already had you exactly where he wanted.

another note: it felt a little weird making them almost kiss in only the third chapter but i remembered sukuna would probably try to make a move on her like kissing or sleeping with her because he thinks that’s how she’ll fall for him it just makes sense for his character! also was listening to ‘that’s so true’ by gracie abrams and that song is so sukuna and reader

taglist: @clp-84 @ssetsuka @lymsfm @monic19 @bol0-de-morang0 @strxberryicecream @r0ckst4rjk @gojocumslut @elliebelliegi @kazuuhali @luna-v-roiya @sussiesushi @nakiich @mourart7 @neuvilletteswife4ever @rusted-dolly @blueyesuguru @lillycore @yourhornysister @bnbaochauuu @ferretsqueen @anonnieghost @boogiemansbitch @sukubusss @sterzin @miazzzma @silkija @blueemochii @number0netrash @aldebrana @emoedgylord @cherixheri @jxeon @paradisestarfishh @bananaminn @reisore @monkeycheeks-lvl26

[mattsobvimyfav]

neighbors (Matthew Sturniolo)

pt.3

I woke up around nine, sunlight peeking through the curtains and illuminating my room. My head felt heavy from the weight of everything that had happened the night before. I lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, letting the stillness of the morning wash over me.

But I couldn’t stay in bed. I needed air—space to clear my head.

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, slipping on a pair of shorts and one of my oversized sweatshirts. My reflection in the mirror was a little disheveled, but I didn’t care. 

Grabbing my keys and my water bottle, I made my way outside. The air was crisp and the sun was beating down. I climbed into my Bronco, rolling down the windows as I sat in the driver’s seat, taking a deep breath. The familiar smell of the car and the freedom it represented made me feel a little better.

Plugging in my phone, I scrolled through my playlist and hit play on Solo by Frank Ocean. I let the music seep into my bones.

With no destination in mind, I pulled out of the driveway, the sound of the tires crunching on the gravel following me. The open road stretched ahead, inviting me to leave everything behind for a little while.

The wind whipped through the open windows as I drove, the warm morning sun casting a golden glow over everything. The city streets blurred into winding backroads. The lyrics of the song resonated with me as I thought about everything.

This was what I needed: time to breathe, to process, to feel without interruption. With every mile, it felt like I was peeling back another layer of the heaviness that had settled in my chest.

After about two hours of driving, singing loudly to music, and letting the wind whip through my hair, I finally made my way back home. My body was physically tired but mentally a bit lighter. Parking my Bronco in the driveway, I turned off the car, letting the silence settle around me for a moment. Then I grabbed my keys, locked the car, and headed inside.

Charlie was sprawled on the couch with her phone in hand, a bowl of cereal balanced on her lap. She glanced up as I walked in. “Hey. You disappeared. Where’d you go?”

I sighed, tossing my keys onto the counter and sitting down next to her. “I needed to clear my head. But, I have a lot to tell you.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Oh no, what now?”

I hesitated, unsure of how to start, but then the words just spilled out. I told her about everything—how Chris had pulled me away at the party, how Matt showed up, the fight we had, and the tattoo. I even mentioned Leo and how he’d gotten pissed at me for being around Matt again.

Charlie’s expression changed as I spoke, going from shock to confusion to anger. When I finished, she set her cereal bowl down hard on the coffee table.

“Wait, hold up,” she said, her voice sharp. “Chris came to you? Why the fuck didn’t he come to me? I’m the one he hurt. I’m the one who was in a relationship with him, not you!”

“Charlie—”

“No, seriously,” she interrupted, her voice rising. “Why has he always gone to you? What’s so special about you that he thinks he can skip me and run straight to you? It’s like he doesn’t even care about me.”

Her words stung, even though I knew she didn’t mean them the way they sounded. “That’s not fair,” I said, my tone defensive. “I didn’t ask for him to come to me. I didn’t even want to talk to him. But it happened.”

Charlie scoffed, crossing her arms. “It just feels like he’s always chosen you over me. Even now, after all this time, I’m still second to you.”

“That’s not true,” I said, crossing my arms. 

But she was already standing up, shaking her head. “I just need a minute,” she muttered before heading to her room and slamming the door behind her.

I sat there for a moment, staring at the empty space she’d left behind, before I stood up and went to my room. My chest felt heavy again, like I’d undone all the progress I’d made on my drive. I curled up on my bed, hugging a pillow to my chest.

After what felt like forever, there was a soft knock at my door.

“Come in,” I said quietly, sitting up.

Charlie peeked her head in, her expression apologetic. “Hey,” she said, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair of me.”

I shrugged, trying to play it off. “You were upset. I get it.”

“No,” she said firmly, sitting down on the edge of my bed. “You didn’t deserve that. I know Chris going to you isn’t your fault. I think I’m just still so hurt by everything, and when I hear his name, I… I lost it. But I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

I gave her a small smile. “It’s okay.”

She nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You’re my best friend, and I don’t want to fight with you. Especially not over him.”

I reached out and pulled her into a hug. “Same. We’ve been through too much to let this come between us.”

She hugged me back tightly, and for the first time that day, I felt like things might be okay again.

After our little heart-to-heart, Charlie and I made our way back to the living room. The tension had lifted, and we were determined to get back on track. The sun was streaming through the windows, casting a soft glow over the room as we plopped down on the couch.

Charlie grabbed her laptop and opened our shared notes app. “Alright,” she said, her voice bright again. “We need to film something today for monday.”

I nodded, leaning back into the couch cushions. “Agreed. What ideas do we have?”

She scrolled through the list. “Okay, we’ve got a few options. A Q&A, a house update, maybe a ‘Day in the Life’ since we just got settled in LA, or…” She paused, squinting at the screen. “Oh! This one could be fun. A ‘Truth or Drink’ video.”

I raised an eyebrow. “That’s a bold one.”

Charlie grinned mischievously. “Exactly. We haven’t done anything like this in a while, and you know the fans eat that up.”

I laughed. “Yeah, because they want to know all our dirt. But, hey, if we’re doing it, we need to go all in. Like, actual questions.”

“Of course,” Charlie said, already typing into her phone to post on our Instagram story: ‘Filming a Truth or Drink! Ask us anything!’ She hit send and looked up at me. “There.”

I shook my head, smiling. “You’re dangerous.”

She shrugged. “It’s part of my charm. But if we do this, we need to be ready to spill, because you know they’re gonna ask about the triplets.”

The mention of them made my stomach flip, but I nodded. “We’ll handle it. We always do.”

“Okay, so Truth or Drink is on the table,” Charlie said. “What else?”

I thought for a moment. “We could also do something more chill, like a ‘How We Decorated Our House’ video. Walk through all the furniture we picked out, talk about why we chose certain things.”

“That’s a solid backup,” she agreed. “Or maybe a mini haul of the stuff we’ve bought so far?”

“Yeah, but let’s save the haul for when we’re fully set up. They will love a big reveal once everything’s perfect.”

“True,” she said, jotting it down. She looked up at me, smirking. “Okay, so Truth or Drink it is?”

I took a deep breath. “Let’s do it. But if they ask about Matt or Chris, I’m drinking.”

Charlie laughed. “Deal.”

With that, we grabbed our cameras and started setting up the living room for filming. Whatever questions came our way, we’d answer them or take a shot. 

A couple of hours later, after letting the questions roll in on Instagram, Charlie and I sat in the living room, ready to face these questions. The coffee table was set up with an array of small shot glasses, a bottle of vodka, a bottle of tequila, and a few backup drinks for when we inevitably chickened out of answering.

The camera was already rolling as Charlie pressed record on our camera. “Alright, guys,” she said, leaning into the camera with a wide grin. “Welcome back to the channel! Today, we are playing Truth or Drink! We asked you guys to send in your questions, and let me tell you—y’all delivered.”

I laughed, leaning into the frame. “Of course they did. You guys are literally ruthless, but we love you for it. So, the rules are simple. We either answer the question, no matter how wild it is, or we take a shot.”

“Pray for us,” Charlie added dramatically.

We both grabbed our phones to pull up the questions. Charlie glanced at the first one and snorted. “Okay, we’re starting strong. ‘Who was your last text from, and what did it say?’”

“Oh, that’s easy,” I said, unlocking my phone. “It was Leonard. He texted, ‘Call me when you’re free.’”

“Cute,” Charlie teased, giving me a pointed look. “Mine was from my mom. She sent a picture of her dog wearing a sweater.”

We answered a few more light questions before things started heating up. Charlie read the next one aloud, her eyebrows shooting up. “Alright, this person did not hold back. ‘If the triplets showed up at your door tomorrow and asked to be friends again, would you?’”

I started laughing hysterically. I reached for the tequila without hesitation, pouring myself a shot. “Cheers,” I said, downing it in one go.

Charlie looked at me, her expression unreadable, before pouring her own shot. “Yeah, no comment.” She winced as the tequila went down.

The fans were going to lose their minds over that one.

We moved on, answering a mix of funny and serious questions. “What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve done on a date?” “What’s one thing you regret doing in college?” “Have you ever ghosted someone?”

Then came another heavy hitter. Charlie read it aloud, her tone cautious. “Who was the last person you thought about before falling asleep last night?”

I froze for a moment, biting my lip. “Pass,” I said quickly, pouring another shot and ignoring the way Charlie raised an eyebrow at me.

“Fair,” she said, taking a sip of her drink instead of answering.

We both knew who it was, and I hated that it was still true.

As we were nearing the end of the game, Charlie scrolled through her phone, her eyes suddenly widening. “Oh, wow,” she said, looking at me cautiously.

“What?” I asked, already nervous by her tone.

She hesitated, glancing at the camera before reading the question aloud. “This one’s for you, Y/N. ‘If Matt asked to talk one-on-one, would you hear him out?’”

My stomach twisted as the name hit the air, and I couldn’t stop the bitter laugh that escaped me.

“Wow, they’re really trying to get me canceled today,” I said, reaching for the vodka and pouring a shot.

Charlie watched me carefully as I raised the glass. “You don’t want to answer?” she asked, her tone softer than usual.

“Nope,” I said shortly before downing the shot. The burn of the vodka was nothing compared to the heat in my chest.

I slammed the glass down on the table and looked straight into the camera. “Next question.”

Charlie leaned into the camera for the outro. “That was…intense,” she said with a laugh. “Thank you guys for sending in your questions and for, you know, trying to ruin our lives.”

“Seriously,” I added with a grin. “We love you guys, even if you’re out to expose us. Make sure to like, comment, and subscribe, and we’ll see you in the next video!”

“Byeee!” Charlie said, throwing up a hand as I hit stop on the camera.

As we cleaned up the table, I couldn’t stop replaying some of the questions in my mind—especially the ones about the triplets. It was clear they weren’t as out of our lives as we wanted them to be.

The evening was quiet, the hum of the TV playing softly as Charlie and I sat on the couch. My laptop was propped open on the coffee table, mid-edit from earlier in the day, but I needed a break. Scrolling aimlessly through TikTok, I stumbled across something that made my chest tighten.

An edit.

An edit of me and Matt.

The opening chords of “Leaving Tonight” by The Neighbourhood played over the montage, and I felt frozen in place. Clips of us from years ago flashed across the screen—old moments I had buried deep. His smile, my laugh, the way we’d look at each other like no one else in the room mattered.

The caption read: “I wonder if they’ll get back together now that she’s in LA again.”

I stared at the video, unable to look away. My thumb hovered over the screen, debating if I should keep watching or just scroll past. The song choice was almost too much to bear—the haunting melody felt like it was written for us.

“What are you looking at?” Charlie asked, noticing the change in my expression.

“Nothing,” I replied quickly, locking my phone and setting it down on the cushion beside me.

Charlie wasn’t convinced. “Y/N,” she said, her voice firm.

I hesitated but finally relented. Picking up my phone, I unlocked it and handed it over to her. She watched the video, her eyes narrowing as it replayed.

“For fuck’s sake,” she muttered, shoving the phone back to me. “Why can’t people just let it go? It’s been years.”

“I don’t know,” I whispered, staring at the dark screen of my phone. 

“That’s because people don’t see the full picture,” Charlie said, her voice full of frustration. “They don’t see what it was like for us. For you. They just see some perfect story that they want to tie up with a bow, like you haven’t moved on. Like you don’t have your own life now.”

I nodded, but the weight of it all felt suffocating. Seeing that video, hearing that song—it brought back emotions I didn’t want to feel again.

“I hate this,” I admitted, my voice cracking.

Charlie placed a hand on my shoulder, grounding me. “Hey, it’s just a dumb edit. It doesn’t mean anything. You’re here now. You’ve built a life without him, and you don’t owe anyone a damn thing.”

Her words were comforting, but they didn’t erase the ache in my chest. I tossed my phone onto the coffee table, leaning back into the couch.

“I just need to stop thinking about it,” I said finally.

“Then let’s focus on something else,” Charlie said, grabbing the remote. “Trash TV or true crime?”

“Trash TV,” I said with a small laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

As the screen filled with some ridiculous reality show, I let myself lean into the comfort of Charlie’s presence. But in the back of my mind, the haunting melody of “Leaving Tonight” kept playing, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that the past wasn’t quite done with me yet.

Monday had been a productive day so far. Charlie and I spent the morning wrapping up the final touches on our latest video, and by mid-afternoon, it was live for the world to see. The comments were already rolling in, a mix of love and curiosity. I ignored anything that even hinted at the triplets—my peace wasn’t worth the energy.

I was lying on the couch, scrolling through my phone and thinking about dinner when my screen lit up with a text from an unsaved number:

“You wouldn’t hear me out?”

I froze, my stomach sinking. I didn’t need to ask who it was. I knew. My thumb hovered over the screen, debating whether to ignore it or respond. Against my better judgment, I typed back:

“Never in a million years.”

I stared at the screen, my pulse pounding as the message sent. A part of me felt satisfied—like I was reclaiming my boundaries—but another part of me felt raw and exposed.

The dots indicating a reply popped up almost immediately. I locked my phone before the response could come through and tossed it onto the cushion next to me like it was a live grenade.

“What’s up?” Charlie asked, looking up from her laptop across the room.

“Nothing,” I lied, standing up and stretching. “Thinking about dinner. Pizza okay?”

“Works for me,” she said, but her eyes narrowed slightly, like she didn’t quite believe me.

tag-

@tbfaptbfae @ch0llies @2muchofaslvt @rockstarchr1s @simply-a-simper @mattscore @watercolorskyy @urfungi @sturnsvelocity @mattsturnii @christmastreecake @izzylovesmatt @larnieboox88 @christophersstar @realuvrrr @namelesssav

[suitov]

The anti-Komahina copypasta of all time pt 1/4

(aka: "toxic submissive homoerotic flirting", "he is a homosexual who curses men hearts. It's my psychological analysis", "no matter how many semens he fills his stomach with. It's not possible!", "it's seriously getting on my nerves how he needs to homofy everything")

This piece was not authored by me and is posted here for archival purposes only, because I can't bear the despair-inducing despair of xitter potentially going down and demolishing mrpoopoofart's masterwork. Please refer to the attribution links throughout.

Seriously, not by me. I enjoy a little recreational Hinanami as much as the next gay but you'll quickly see that this thread reaches heights to which not even an Ultimate Hope could aspire. Not even if he had a snowboard.

[Square brackets (source links and video descriptions) are my only additions. Typos in the rest of the text are directly from the original.]

Goku Nr.1hater (@mrpoopoofart)

Nagito Komaeda influences Hajime Hinata into homosexual activities accompanied with his feminine aura he spreads through his toxic submissive homoerotic flirting. (A thread)

10:31 PM · Oct 31, 2023 [src]

Let's begin with a little introducton. So we all know that Nagito and Hajime are meant to be rivals throughout the game, even though apparently Nagito developed a supposed "crush" on Hajime,which is according to the media confirmed by the creator + [src]

But our (hetero) MC Hajime, doesn't feel the same way about him and despises him to death. [src]

1. Here is a theory of mine. Take your time and try to understand this complex comprehension analysis, even if it's difficult for you to understand at first sight. Take your time and read it carefully. [src]

2.Hajime having enough of Nagito Komaeda Every player knows that Hajime hates Komaeda's guts right? You can see how much hatred he holds for that psycho. The reasons are: his manipulation, crimes and the homoerotic submissive flirting he does when he's all alone with Hajime. [src]

3.Nagito's seduction trap In Chapter 2, when the vicious Nagito was tied up, you could notice how his voice sounded like he was moaning. Moaning mostly is a feminine sexual arousal to seduce men. (Straight men would never do this because they are not female). [src]

[Video: original here. Clip is of Nagito tied up on the floor of the old building, being offered breakfast by Hajime and remarking "Huh? You're not going to feed me?"]

In addition, Nagito seems to be very hungry and forces poor Hajime to feed him, even though he refuses to.But as he already asks with a moan, (theory)he thinks of wanting to eat Hajime's wiener in order to suck him dry. Like a needy prostitute! [src]

Hajime is stunned and feels anxious when he realizes what the antagonist actually meant by "feeding" him. Devestated, he leaves as quickly as he can. [src]

[order of images is as in original thread]

4.Nagito starving for Hajime's Pee pee. Apparently Nagito hasn't eaten any proper food for days, right, when he was tied up in the old building. Theory: What if the scoundrel wanted to only eat toast and milk to make room for Hajime's fluid? [src]

+That's honestly unacceptable for a freak like him, if my theory would turn out to be true. [src]

5. Nagito's attempt to make Hajime feel pity for him We players all know Nagito is just faking his backstory and his allegend disease. Even Nagito later on admits he read something like that in a book. He shouldn't wonder why he has no friends if he acts the way he does. [src]

+The untrustable antagonist is telling Hajime in this scene, he has stage 3 lymphoma and frontotemporal dementia and has allegedly 6 months to a year of life span. This guy really believes Hajime would forgive him for all his evil deeds. [src]

6. Nagito's terrifying eyes and grin Hajime already feels creeped out, when noticing the antagonist's swirling eyes, which causes Hajime to panic. Swirling eyes symoblise excitement, determination, rage or insanity. [src]

+But maybe, just maybe there was a spark of manipulation/influence behind those malicious eyes, to make Hajime aware who he's dealing with [src]

+ [src]

7. Shoe Licking In this scene Nagito tells Hajime he'd give him the clues, if he'd drop on his knees and lick his shoes. Now, that's a very strange and evil way to make a deal. However, Nagito then later on admits he's just joking, but not even the protagonist believes it was. [src]

+This might have been a way, to show off his dominance and inapropriate behavior towards men. [src]

8. Official art analysis So in this official art we can view those two sitting back to back. They represent the contrast of each other. The homosexuality and heterosexuality. The colors of Hajime's clothes express strong masculity, the way the Pyjama matches his hairstyle. [src]

+Also, Hajime is obviously smiling a lot more than Nagito does, because Nagito isn't exactly copying the same postion Hajime is in, otherwise their hands would have touched, which would honestly gross the MC out. [src]

9. Inapropriate Body reveal In one of Nagito's freetime events Hajime demands Nagito to take off his clothes to go swimming, but Nagito seems to "misunderstand" the question and believes Hajime wants to see him naked to enjoy his body. And many of you stan a delulu guy like him? [src]

[Video: original here. Clip is of a Nagito free time event on the beach. Hajime: "Let's take our clothes off." Nagito: "Does that mean... you want to go in the ocean with me? That's a bad idea. There are lots of ways that could be dangerous. But I don't mind if you just want to see me naked." Hajime: (You don't mind...?)]

7. Izuru controlling Hajime's mind Nagito has allegedly shown interest in Hajime before the killing game happened. When Hajime was Izuru at that time. Izuru sensed Nagito's homosexuality and unintentionally grabbed his waist, as an maneuver to shoot him. [src]

*10 [src]

+ Nagito however, got turned on and dropped to the floor breathing heavily with a red face. [src]

11. Love Nest Curse Nagito leads Hajime to "their" (actually his) love nest in one of his fte. Theory: The malicious boy planned something evil. I'm sure Nagito wants Hajime to act all lovely dovely with him and give him all those coochie coochie coos.Bro, that's a hetero MAN! [src]

+ Leave him the hell alone [src]

12. Cookie Monster In this magazine cutout Hajime and Nagito are once again taking the spotlight. The scoundrel on the right, is happily handing a scared Hajime a pair of cookies. I can't read any japanese so I let Google translate for me.+

Apparently one phrase says "Take a bite of him". I strongly believe that this sentence has 2 meanings. Meaning 1: Nagito biting into the Adam's apple (which is cruely erotic) but Meaning 2 convinced me more. Meaning 2: It's a metaphor and means they are playing Cookie Monster. [src]

Explanation: Cookie Monster is a silly children game where you try to "eat" the person. You have to run and try not being cought by your enemy. [src]

Nagito's character song analysis Someone sent me 2 character songs of Nagito to analyse for my thread and of course I analysed some of the lyrics as logical as I could. The songs do provide a connection to the game and mostly the anime. But I only decided to analyse one song. [src]

13. Zettai Kibou Birthday As much as I know, this song is dedicated to Hajime's birthday. The first of january. In this diabolic song, the antagonist sings about wanting a sexual affair with the protagonist, who was known as Izuru Kamukura at that time according to media sources. [src]

Furthermore, he seems to be the one "taking" it,  which is already terrifying to think about it. Now, it makes so much sense how Nagito manipulates men. It's hidden in his feminine aura he spreads when seducing men. [src]

+Since the song is pretty much telling us about oral and anal sex, there is a possibility that Nagito has experience with diabolic homosexual activities and maybe tells us, he had many affairs with other men before meeting Hajime. [src]

+This makes Nagito even more of a awful human being, who could have done better in life, if he took the right path. But he didn't. [src]

14 .Nagito abusing Hope for his homosexual desires I'm a Christian guy aka God's second beloved Child and I need to get this off my chest quickly. If Nagito Komaeda was real, he'd land in hell for committing one of the most awful sins close to murder. [src]

+Him utilizing hope for forbidden love,is concidered a crime. Explaination: Discrimination against God and Eve (God's first creation).An unforgiveable crime, exactly. Because Hope should be used for future goals and expetations from God and not the opposite. [src]

15. Hajime's forever longlasting unforgettable love for Chiaki Hajime 100% fell inlove with Chiaki when they met for the first time. See how he's looking at her. The eyes are telling me "She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen" [src]

[Video: original here. Clip is of Hajime meeting Chiaki. Chiaki: "First, like, ever! It's a classic, don't you agree? there's nothing else like it in the whole genre!" Hajime, strained: "Yeah, classic... I new-game-plussed it five times in a row once..." Chiaki: "Are you serious?" Hajime: "Yes! Cross my heart!" Chiaki: "I know how tough that is. I did ten in a row once." Hajime: "That blows mine out of the water." Chiaki: "It's just... I've never met anybody who can play games as much as me before. Some day, I wanna see your very best run, all right?" Hajime, cut off by end of clip: "Su--" Notably, their faces are generic anime faces throughout with no special effects applied to the eyes, but ya boy knows that destined hetship just hits different.]

+compared to Nagito his eyes are filled with negativity, telling "He's the most awful human being". So don't come at me for being an expert for noticing love at first sight unlike you Yaoi shippers. [src]

Theory: Furthermore, since Hajime posses all talents now, he definitely would turn Chiaki into an Ai again, so that she keep remaining being his true waifu. [src]

[Oh no! Image limit reached? Never fear; it's onward to.......]

[Part 2/4]

[lore-of-the-mushroom-kingdom]

Peach Does Not Love Bowser

So while there has been many jokes about Peach being secretly in love with Bowser and wanting to be kidnapped, there are many people who actual believe this is actually what is canon. So I am going to explain why this is not the case.

Princess Peach as we have seen many times does not like Bowser and in many games has tried to escape but of course to no avail. In games like Super Mario 3D Land we get to see that Peach does not enjoy her time when kidnapped, and often being tormented by her captor and his minions.

Some people taking the joke seriously have claimed it's all an act and that behind closed doors it's a different story. But we have seen Peach's opinion of Bowser when they are alone, and she has absolutely no liking to him. In Paper Mario 64 when Bowser tells Peach she should smile, a phrase many of us should irritatingly know. Peach responds the following way to him. "Well, tough luck! I'm in a very bad mood, you monster! You've imprisoned all of the guests from the castle! You are the single greatest disaster to ever befall the Mushroom Kingdom. I'll tell you what: I'll smile when you make everything as it was before you showed up!" Doesn't really scream secretly in love with Bowser.

[mcrdvcks]

okay, here we go, part 2! (bear with me once again)

Something in his tone must have reached her, because she looked up, her eyes softening, almost as if she were seeing him clearly for the first time. “Logan…” she said her voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t… I didn’t realize.”

how are you doing this?? 'cause this is something i would do. i've never had a guy interested in me, other than a casual friend, so i feel like if a guy was sending signals that he wanted more, i just wouldn't notice or believe it.

She bit her lip, looking down, her cheeks flushed. “I didn’t see it because… why would I?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, and he had to lean in to catch the words. “I mean, look at you. You’re… you’re handsome. You could have anyone. And I’m just… me.” She let out a shaky laugh, her gaze dropping to the ground. “I’m quiet. I’m… awkward. I was rude to you half the time, and the other half I was too shy to even look you in the eye.”

chat this is getting too real

“Not with you,” he replied softly, his voice like a promise. “Never with you.”

ughhh, i love soft logan

“Tell me what you’re thinking, darlin’,” he whispered, his voice a rough murmur. He kept his gaze steady, trying not to let his need show too much. He wanted her—God, he needed her—but he knew better than to rush this.

consent, consent, consent!! that just makes him that much more attractive

The worst of it was a half-written document, clearly meant to be an exposé. She’d been planning to write everything down—publish everything. The paper was titled in bold at the top: The Hidden Faces of War: Secrets Behind Team X. And beneath the title, a line that made his blood run cold: “An unauthorized look into the men behind the missions, and the things they were never meant to remember.”

i knew it! i mean... oh no...

Wade sighed, running a hand over his face. “Look, man. I’ll help you,” he said, his voice softer now, carrying a note of real sincerity. “I don’t want her getting hurt, either. I’m not a monster. I know what Stryker will do if he gets his hands on her.” He paused, his gaze steady. “She doesn’t deserve that. And neither do you.”

the fact wade knows how much she means to logan is true friendship

“In a heartbeat,” he replied, his gaze unwavering. “I’d leave it all if it meant keeping you safe. You think I care about Stryker? About Team X? That life’s got nothing for me. Not anymore.”

so cute 😭😭

“You’re so beautiful,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, her words full of quiet sincerity as she tugged his jeans down his hips. Her eyes roamed over him, taking him in as if he were something precious. Logan huffed out a quiet laugh, the sound rough and unpracticed. “Beautiful?” he echoed, a faint, self-deprecating grin tugging at his lips. It was strange hearing that word directed at him—foreign in a way that made him feel both exposed and disarmed. “I’m looking at beautiful, and it sure as hell isn’t me.”

ahhhhh

“Gotta say, little brother,” came the low, mocking drawl, “didn’t think you’d make it this easy for me.”

no, not victor 😭

After a long moment, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze, a slow smile breaking across his face. “All right, then,” he said, voice low and steady. “Guess I’d better get used to it.” She grinned, leaning over the table to press a quick kiss to his lips, her laughter filling the room like sunlight. “Guess you’d better,” she teased, brushing a hand through his hair as she settled back in her chair.

the ending was so cute, and wade coming in at the end?? the three of them are adorable <3

okay but seriously, this was great, i enjoyed reading this so much. it's different from other things i read but still felt like it belonged in the x-men/wolverine universe. thank you for writing this! :)

Sanctuary - Part Two

Logan and Wade are sent by Stryker to find a journalist who has been digging around trying to expose Team X. Logan isn't prepared when he meets an intriguing neighbor causing him to question himself and the mission.

origins logan howlett x fem!reader - team x mission, shy reader, no y/n, she/her pronouns used instead of you, logan's pov, origins wade, awkwardness, guarded feelings, angst, AU, crushes, logan kinda being a stalker, stryker and victor cameos, fighting, cussing, wade being a good friend, reserved logan

apparently this is too long to post in one go so here's part one and here's part two

word count: 40k

divider credit: @enchanthings

Logan knew he shouldn’t be jealous, but he couldn’t help it. Jared had started working his way into her life, filling the spaces Logan had been dancing around for weeks. Jared was walking her home after her shifts, casually showing up at the bar to chat with her, and Logan was pretty sure he’d seen him drop flowers off once. Every time he looked, Jared seemed to be there—closing in, leaving little room for Logan.

Wade, of course, was delighted by this turn of events and took every opportunity to dig the knife a little deeper.

"Guess the infamous Jared is busy tonight,” Wade quipped, glancing over to where she was wiping down glasses behind the bar, focused and oblivious to their presence. “Better get your ass over there, lover boy, before he shows up and sweeps her off her feet again.”

Logan shot him a glare, his jaw clenched tight. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, but his eyes drifted back to her. She looked calm, and relaxed, humming to herself as she went about her work. The sight only made his chest ache more.

“Oh, come on,” Wade snickered, taking a sip of his beer. “Just admit it—you’re jealous.”

Logan didn’t respond, but his fists tightened on the table. He hated that Wade was right. The jealousy gnawed at him, a constant, dull ache that made him restless and irritable. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was losing her, and he hated that he wasn’t even sure he’d ever had her to begin with.

Before he could second-guess himself, Logan stood up, ignoring Wade’s raised eyebrow as he crossed the bar. She looked up as he approached, a small smile flickering across her lips.

“Hey, Logan,” she greeted him, her tone warm but casual like they were old friends—just friends.

Logan nodded, trying to keep his tone light. “Hey. Just… wanted to check in on you.” He hesitated, then added, “I saw Jared hasn’t been around tonight.”

She shrugged her smile not quite reaching her eyes. “Guess he’s busy,” she said lightly, going back to drying the glass in her hands. She didn’t offer anymore, clearly brushing it off, but Logan couldn’t let it go.

“Do you… do you actually like the guy?” he asked, the words tumbling out before he could stop himself.

She paused, glancing up at him with a mixture of surprise and annoyance. “Why do you ask?”

Logan shifted, feeling foolish but unable to drop it. “Just… curious. Seems like he’s been around a lot lately. Walking you home, stopping by during your shifts…”

She let out a sigh, setting the glass down with a bit more force than necessary. “Logan, what’s it to you?” she asked, a touch of frustration slipping into her voice. “I mean, I don’t ask about the women in your life.”

The remark stung, and Logan took a breath, struggling to keep his frustration in check. “I just don’t think he’s good enough for you,” he said, his voice coming out rougher than he’d intended.

She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. “Not good enough? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Logan opened his mouth, then closed it, unsure how to explain the knot of jealousy and protectiveness he felt without sounding… ridiculous. “I just don’t like the way he acts around you. Like he’s… entitled to your time.”

Her eyes narrowed, a flicker of irritation in her gaze. “Logan, he’s just a friend. If he wants to walk me home or drop by the bar, that’s his choice. It’s not… some grand conspiracy.”

Logan ran a hand through his hair, growing increasingly frustrated. “Yeah, well, he’s not doing it just to be nice.”

She looked at him, her expression unreadable, then let out a soft, exasperated sigh. “Why do you even care so much? I don’t get it.” She paused, searching his face with a look of confusion. “Why are you acting like this? You’ve always been… protective, but this is different. I don’t understand.”

Logan felt his heart sink, a cold realization settling over him. She didn’t see it. She didn’t see him the way he saw her—didn’t even consider the possibility that he might want to be more than just a friend. Or maybe she just… couldn’t imagine it. Couldn’t imagine him as someone she could be with.

“Why am I acting like this?” he echoed, his voice low, bitter. He forced himself to meet her gaze, searching her eyes for any glimmer of understanding, but her expression was still clouded with confusion. “You really don’t know?”

She blinked, her brow furrowing, then let out a soft, disbelieving laugh. “Logan, I…thought you were…you’re my friend. I mean, that’s what you’ve been, right? I don’t—” She broke off, biting her lip as if she didn’t know how to finish the thought.

Logan felt his chest tighten. There it was, plain as day. He’d been standing here, trying to protect her, trying to be someone she could rely on, someone she’d choose. But she couldn’t even see him like that. He was just Logan—the guy who watched out for her, the guy she talked to when she needed someone to listen. Nothing more.

“Right,” he said, his voice rough, barely masking the bitterness that threatened to spill over. “Just your friend.”

Something in his tone must have reached her, because she looked up, her eyes softening, almost as if she were seeing him clearly for the first time. “Logan…” she said her voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t… I didn’t realize.”

He shook his head, letting out a hollow laugh. “Yeah, well, that’s kind of the problem, isn’t it?”

Her eyes searched his face, a flicker of something close to regret passing over her expression. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but closed it again, her shoulders slumping. “I didn’t mean to… hurt your feelings,” she murmured. “I just didn’t know. I thought—”

Logan took a step back, feeling the weight of her words settle over him like a stone. “It’s fine,” he said, forcing himself to keep his voice steady. “Forget I said anything.”

He turned, feeling her eyes on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to look back. He didn’t want to see the pity in her gaze, the confusion, or worse—the faint flicker of understanding that came too late. He walked away, his chest tight. It was too late for that now. She’d seen him as a friend from the start, and no amount of jealous glances or awkward conversations was going to change that.

Logan pushed through the bar doors, letting the cool night air hit him like a slap. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm raging inside him, the mix of frustration and hurt that he couldn’t quite shake. He’d thought he could handle her not seeing him that way, but hearing her say it out loud—just my friend—had cut deeper than he’d expected.

He barely made it a few steps when he heard her voice behind him.

“Logan, wait.”

He stopped, surprised, turning slowly. He hadn’t expected her to follow. She stood there in the doorway, her face lit by the neon bar sign, eyes wide and uncertain like she was still trying to make sense of what had just happened. She took a tentative step forward, wrapping her arms around herself, the vulnerability in her posture catching him off guard.

“Why did you…?” she began, then hesitated, struggling to find the right words. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Logan let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Say what? That I see you as more than just a friend? That every time I saw you with that guy, it felt like I was watching you slip away?” He shook his head, his voice rough. “I tried, but… you just didn’t see it.”

She bit her lip, looking down, her cheeks flushed. “I didn’t see it because… why would I?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, and he had to lean in to catch the words. “I mean, look at you. You’re… you’re handsome. You could have anyone. And I’m just… me.” She let out a shaky laugh, her gaze dropping to the ground. “I’m quiet. I’m… awkward. I was rude to you half the time, and the other half I was too shy to even look you in the eye.”

Logan felt his chest tighten as he took in her words. He stepped closer, his voice gentle, almost pleading. “Don’t you see? That’s exactly why.”

She looked up, her eyes meeting his, confusion etched in her face.

“Look,” he continued, struggling to put into words everything he’d been feeling. “You’re real. You’re not trying to be anyone else, not putting on a show. You’re just… you. And yeah, you’re quiet, and maybe a little guarded, but that’s not a bad thing. It’s honest. You don’t let people in easily, and for some reason, that made me want to break through even more.”

She stared at him, her eyes beginning to shimmer with unshed tears. He could see her struggling to hold them back, her fingers twisting anxiously at her sides.

“And when you let your guard down,” Logan continued, his voice softer now, “even for just a second… I see this side of you that’s so… warm. You’re thoughtful. Kind. Stronger than you give yourself credit for.” He took a breath, gathering the courage to say the rest. “You make me want to be better, just by being yourself.”

She blinked, her face crumpling slightly as a tear slipped down her cheek. She brushed it away quickly, as if embarrassed, but more tears followed, spilling over in silent streams.

“I… I didn’t know,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I didn’t think anyone… saw me like that.”

He took another step forward, closing the last bit of distance between them, his gaze fixed on her face. “I see you,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “And not just the version of you from tonight, or the one from work. All of you.”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment she looked away as if trying to collect herself. Then, with a shaky exhale, she looked back at him, her gaze softer, more open than he’d ever seen it.

“Logan…” Her voice broke, and she let out a short, almost disbelieving laugh, a mix of relief and release. She shook her head, wiping at her cheeks with the back of her hand, but the tears kept coming. “I didn’t… I never thought…”

Before she could finish, Logan reached out, pulling her into his arms. She didn’t resist, her body melting into his as she let herself be held, her arms slipping around his waist. He felt her relax against him, her head resting against his chest, her shoulders shaking as she allowed herself to cry freely.

Logan tightened his hold, one hand gently cradling the back of her head, the other wrapped securely around her back. He felt her tears soak into his shirt, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was the warmth of her in his arms, the way she fit against him, like she’d belonged there all along.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble against her ear. “You don’t have to say anything. Just… let it out.”

She nodded against his chest, her fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt as she cried. It wasn’t a sad cry—it was something deeper like she was finally letting go of something she’d held inside for too long. Logan stood there, holding her, letting her know with his presence that she didn’t have to be alone in it anymore.

After a while, her tears slowed, her breathing evening out as she relaxed in his arms. She pulled back slightly, looking up at him, her eyes still wet but filled with quiet gratitude, a kind of wonder that took his breath away.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice raw but steady. “For… seeing me. I don’t know how to explain it, but… no one’s ever really done that before.”

Logan’s gaze softened, and he brushed a stray tear from her cheek with his thumb. “You don’t have to explain it,” he said gently. 

They stood there, close enough to feel each other’s breath, a fragile understanding settling between them. She didn’t look away, her gaze steady and unguarded, and for the first time, he felt like he was truly seeing her—no walls, no defenses, just her.

“Logan…” she murmured, her voice trailing off as if the weight of the moment had stolen her words. Her eyes searched his face, hesitant yet drawn in, and after a heartbeat, she lifted her hand, her fingers brushing softly against his cheek. The touch was tentative but unshakably real, grounding him, rooting him in the quiet intimacy between them.

Logan’s breath caught, and he leaned into her touch, his eyes never leaving hers. Her fingertips were warm against his skin, tracing over the rough edges of his jaw, gentle but sure, like she was memorizing him. His heart hammered in his chest, each beat loud and insistent as if to remind him that this—she—was real.

“I see you too,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, but he felt the words settle over him, softening something in him he hadn’t realized was so tightly wound. “I see all of you.”

Logan nodded, his voice thick. “I know, sweetheart.”

Her lips parted slightly, her gaze flicking down as her hand trailed lower, her fingers grazing his cheekbone, then drifting to trace the outline of his bottom lip. His breath hitched, his skin electrified under her touch, and he found himself leaning closer, drawn in like a magnet. Her fingers lingered at the edge of his mouth, her touch featherlight, and for a moment he was utterly still, letting her explore this unguarded part of him.

A soft laugh escaped her, a quiet, wondrous sound as if seeing him this vulnerable under her touch was something she hadn’t quite expected. Her thumb brushed over his lip, and he felt the faintest tremble in her hand like she was as caught up in this as he was.

“Logan… I didn’t know…” she murmured, her voice trailing off, her eyes full of something like wonder. “I didn’t know you could be… like this.”

“Like what?” he asked, his voice a low rasp, barely able to keep his focus as her fingers traced along his jaw.

“Soft,” she whispered, her eyes meeting his with a quiet, almost fragile honesty. “You’re always so… strong. Untouchable. But right now…” She trailed off, her cheeks flushing, and he could see the vulnerability in her expression, the way she was opening up to him, bit by bit.

“Not with you,” he replied softly, his voice like a promise. “Never with you.”

He lifted his hand, covering hers against his cheek, pressing it gently, letting her know without words that he wanted her there—that he was letting her see this part of him because it was her. She wasn’t just any woman to him; she was the woman, the one who had slipped under his skin in ways he couldn’t explain.

Slowly, she moved closer, her breath mingling with his, her gaze flickering between his eyes and his lips like she was still wrapping her head around the idea that he could be hers, that he was this vulnerable for her alone.

“I…” she murmured, her voice barely more than a breath as she leaned in, her lips brushing softly against his jaw. Her fingers still rested against his cheek, her touch featherlight, hesitant.

Logan’s heart pounded, every instinct urging him to close the distance, to kiss her and pull her into his arms. But he held back, waiting, sensing there was something she needed to say.

“Tell me what you’re thinking, darlin’,” he whispered, his voice a rough murmur. He kept his gaze steady, trying not to let his need show too much. He wanted her—God, he needed her—but he knew better than to rush this.

She closed her eyes, a soft sigh escaping her as she leaned her forehead against his, her breath warm against his skin. “I want…” she started, her voice catching. She let out a shaky breath, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, her eyes searching his. “I want you to hold me.”

Her words were quiet, almost shy, and he felt something shift in his chest, a tenderness he hadn’t known he could feel. She looked down, almost apologetic, her cheeks flushed as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m… sorry if that’s not what you wanted,” she whispered, her voice barely holding steady. “I just… I’m not ready for more.”

Logan’s expression softened, and he gently lifted her chin, meeting her eyes with a look of understanding. “Hey,” he murmured, his voice steady and warm. “You don’t have to apologize. I can wait.”

She blinked, her eyes filling with gratitude, a quiet vulnerability that made his heartache. “Really?” she asked, her voice a fragile whisper.

He smiled softly, brushing his thumb along her cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin under his touch. “Really,” he replied, his tone gentle but sure. “As long as it takes. Just… let me be here with you.”

She let out a shaky breath, and he could feel the tension ease from her shoulders as she leaned into him, resting her head against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, feeling the steady rhythm of her breathing, the warmth of her body pressed against his.

They stood like that in the quiet, her cheek pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped securely around her. He could feel her relax in his embrace, letting go of the hesitation, the fear as if she’d finally found a place she could just… be.

“Thank you, Logan,” she whispered against his shirt, her voice muffled but filled with emotion. “For… for understanding.”

He held her a little tighter, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head, a promise in the gentle touch. “Always,” he murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

It was late, and the apartment was quiet, save for the faint hum of the fridge and the occasional creak of floorboards settling. Logan had just settled on the couch, nursing a beer and trying to ignore Wade’s relentless teasing, when there was a soft knock at the door.

Logan’s brow furrowed. It was nearly midnight, and he wasn’t expecting anyone. He stood up, crossing the small space and opening the door—only to find her standing there, arms wrapped around herself, eyes wide and uncertain.

For a second, they just stared at each other, and he could see the faint blush rising to her cheeks, the way she looked away, biting her lip as if second-guessing why she’d even come.

“Hey,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “Sorry, it’s… so late.”

Logan’s expression softened, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “No problem,” he said, leaning against the doorframe. “Everything okay?”

She nodded, but he could tell she was nervous—more nervous than usual, even. Her gaze darted from his face to the floor, her fingers twisting in the hem of her sweater as she shifted from one foot to the other. “I, um… I just…” She took a breath, her eyes flicking up to meet his. “I was wondering if… maybe you could come over? Just for a bit?”

Logan’s smile grew, and he nodded, his voice gentle. “Of course. Let me grab my jacket.”

He glanced over his shoulder at Wade, who was watching the scene unfold with a smirk, one eyebrow raised in amusement. “Finally got the girl to come to you, huh?” Wade drawled, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. “About damn time.”

Logan rolled his eyes, grabbing his jacket off the back of the chair. “Yeah, well, took me long enough,” he muttered.

Wade gasped, pressing a hand to his chest in mock shock. “Is the big tough guy over here admitting I was right?”

“Don’t get used to it,” Logan grumbled, but there was a flicker of humor in his eyes as he closed the door behind him, leaving Wade’s laughter echoing down the hall.

When they reached her apartment, she opened the door and led him inside, glancing back at him nervously as if checking to make sure he hadn’t changed his mind. Her place was warm and inviting, the faint scent of vanilla in the air, and he could see a blanket draped over the back of her couch, and a book lying open on the coffee table. It felt like stepping into another world—a quiet sanctuary that was all hers.

She hesitated, looking back at him with a shy smile. “Sorry if this is… weird. I just… I didn’t feel like being alone tonight.”

Logan shook his head, his expression gentle. “Not weird at all,” he assured her. “I’m glad you asked.”

They settled onto the couch, her curled up at one end with a blanket wrapped around her, and Logan at the other, trying to ignore the subtle ache in his chest that urged him to reach out, to pull her close. Instead, he let her take the lead, watching as she relaxed, her guard slowly lowering in the quiet warmth of her apartment.

After a few minutes, she glanced over at him, her face softening. “You know, I don’t let a lot of people in here. It’s kind of… my space. Where I go when I need to recharge.”

Logan nodded, understanding more than she probably realized. “I figured,” he murmured. “Need a little peace and quiet to get your energy back.”

She laughed softly, tucking her legs up under herself. “Exactly. Sometimes I think people don’t get that. They think I’m being rude or closed off, but it’s not… It’s just how I am.”

Logan smiled, leaning back against the couch, feeling more comfortable here than he had in a long time. “Trust me, I know the feeling. People have been making assumptions about me my whole life.” He looked down, a wry smile tugging at his lips.

She seemed to absorb his words, her expression softening, and for a moment, they just looked at each other, the quiet of the room settling over them like a warm blanket. Finally, she shifted a little closer, her fingers playing with the edge of the blanket as if gathering the courage to say something.

“Could you… would you mind just holding me?” she asked softly, almost shyly. “I know it’s silly, but…”

“It’s not silly,” he interrupted gently, already reaching out to pull her closer. She settled against him, her head resting on his shoulder, her body fitting perfectly against his side. He wrapped his arm around her, holding her securely, feeling the soft warmth of her breath against his neck.

They sat like that in comfortable silence, her fingers tracing small, absent patterns on his arm, and he felt a sense of peace he hadn’t known he was missing. After a while, he noticed her glancing at the book on the coffee table, the corners of her mouth lifting in a small, embarrassed smile.

“What’s that?” he asked, nodding toward the book.

She chuckled, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “It’s… just an old favorite,” she said, her fingers brushing over the cover as if the book itself were a comfort. “I’ve read it a hundred times, but I keep coming back to it. I guess it’s like… a safe place, you know?”

Logan reached over, picking up the book, letting the pages fall open naturally to a passage she’d read often. His eyes skimmed the words, noticing they were carefully underlined in places, with faint notes scrawled in the margins. Some of the words jumped out at him—truth, deception, uncover. The kind of words that carried a weight he couldn’t quite place.

“You make notes in it?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, his thumb tracing over one of the handwritten lines in the margin.

She hesitated, her fingers nervously twisting on the edge of the blanket. “Yeah,” she admitted, her voice soft. “I… I tend to analyze things. Sometimes I think too much, but…” She shrugged, glancing up at him with a shy smile. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed slightly as he flipped through a few more pages, noticing more annotations, small questions scribbled in her neat handwriting: What’s being hidden here? What’s the real story? It wasn’t the kind of casual note-taking he’d expect from someone reading for comfort. It felt… meticulous. Intentional.

“You really dig into things, huh?” he asked his tone light but laced with curiosity.

She let out a small, nervous laugh, looking down as she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I guess so. I like… knowing things. Figuring out what’s beneath the surface. Sometimes I think it’s the only way I can make sense of the world.”

Logan’s smile faded slightly, an odd sense of familiarity tugging at him. Her words echoed something he’d heard Stryker say about the journalist they were after—a person who couldn’t leave things alone, who kept digging and prodding, pulling threads no one else had noticed until the whole web of secrets started to unravel. He dismissed the thought as quickly as it came. No, he thought. That’s ridiculous.

Still, he couldn’t shake a strange feeling, a quiet tension building in the back of his mind. He watched her as she curled up against him, her face soft and relaxed, so different from the hardened profile of a tenacious journalist. And yet…

“So,” he said slowly, turning the conversation a bit, “you said you’ve been working at the bar for… how long now?”

She looked up, blinking as if she hadn’t expected the question. “A few months,” she replied, her voice casual. “Needed a change of pace. City life, you know?”

He nodded, but something about her answer felt practiced. “What did you do before that?”

Her smile wavered, and she glanced away, tugging the blanket a little tighter around herself. “I, um… I did some freelance work. Writing, mostly. Articles, essays, that sort of thing.”

Logan felt his chest tighten, the pieces shifting uncomfortably into place. Freelance writing. It could mean anything… or it could mean everything. He forced himself to keep his expression neutral, unwilling to let his suspicions show.

“Writing, huh?” he said, his voice carefully steady. “You must have a knack for it if you’re making a living off it.”

She shrugged, looking down at her hands, her voice softening. “I like to dig into things. Tell stories that don’t get told. Sometimes people don’t appreciate that.” She glanced up at him, a small, frown tugging at her lips. “Guess I’ve made a few enemies along the way.”

Logan’s stomach twisted, his mind racing. He’d been chasing this journalist for weeks, tracking down scraps of information, hearing bits and pieces about someone who wouldn’t quit, who kept pushing no matter the consequences. And here she was, right in front of him, leaning against him with that soft, trusting smile. He felt a pang of guilt mixed with something he couldn’t quite name—something like dread, or realization.

“Guess you don’t mind getting into trouble, huh?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light, almost teasing.

She laughed, a soft, self-deprecating sound. “I try not to, but… I don’t know. I just can’t let things go when I feel like there’s more to the story.” She looked up at him, her gaze holding his with a quiet intensity. “You get that, don’t you?”

He nodded, throat suddenly tight. “Yeah,” he murmured, his voice low. “I get that.”

They fell into silence, and she nestled against him, resting her head on his shoulder, unaware of the storm swirling in his mind. Logan tightened his arm around her, holding her close, feeling the weight of her trust in the way she settled against him. He wanted to shake off his suspicions, to tell himself he was reading too much into things. But the more he thought about it, the more the pieces clicked into place.

He looked down at her, his gaze softening despite his racing thoughts. He could feel the warmth of her, her breath steady against his chest, her body relaxed and trusting in his arms. She was right here, with him, no walls, no defenses.

Maybe she was the person he’d been looking for all along. 

She had fallen asleep against him, her head nestled on his shoulder, her breathing soft and steady. Logan’s arm was still wrapped around her, but his mind was far from the peaceful quiet of the moment. His thoughts churned, circling back to everything Stryker had told him—and more importantly, everything Stryker hadn’t told him.

For weeks, they’d been tracking down whispers about a journalist who was digging too deep, getting too close to things they had no business knowing. Stryker had been vague about the details, only dropping hints about classified information being exposed, and names being uncovered. Hell, now that Logan thought about it, he realized Stryker hadn’t even specified if their target was a man or a woman. They’d just assumed.

A cold knot of dread formed in his stomach. Could it be her? he wondered, glancing down at her peaceful face, so trusting, so vulnerable in sleep. She’d let him into her world tonight, let him see the quiet, guarded person behind her walls. He’d felt closer to her than he had to anyone in years. But now… now he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d been blind, missing clues that were right in front of him.

Silently, he cursed, gently easing her off him and onto the couch. She murmured something in her sleep, shifting slightly, but didn’t wake, sinking deeper into the cushions. Logan took a steadying breath, watching her for a moment, his heart aching with the conflict tearing him apart. What am I doing? he asked himself. But he knew he had to see this through.

His eyes scanned the room, his gaze landing on a small desk tucked in the corner by the window. He moved quietly, the only sound in the room the soft hum of the heater as he made his way over. The desk was neat, but he noticed a few loose papers sticking out of one of the drawers as if she’d shoved them in hurriedly, almost like she’d meant to hide them.

He hesitated, glancing back at her sleeping form, guilt gnawing at him. Just leave it alone, a part of him whispered. You know she’d never forgive you. But the doubt was too strong, the questions too sharp, cutting through his resolve. Slowly, he pulled open the drawer, his fingers trembling slightly as he reached inside.

What he found stopped him cold.

Stacks of papers, notes scribbled in her handwriting, clippings from newspapers, and—his heart dropped—classified documents. Some were marked with the distinct insignia of military intelligence, others with the unmistakable logo of Team X. He sifted through them, his pulse racing as he took in the details. There were notes on most of the members of the team, pieces of their pasts pieced together like puzzle fragments. He found Stryker’s name circled in red ink, question marks, and hastily written notes scrawled next to it: Experimentation? Corruption? The truth?

The worst of it was a half-written document, clearly meant to be an exposé. She’d been planning to write everything down—publish everything. The paper was titled in bold at the top: The Hidden Faces of War: Secrets Behind Team X. And beneath the title, a line that made his blood run cold: “An unauthorized look into the men behind the missions, and the things they were never meant to remember.”

Logan’s stomach twisted, the betrayal sinking deep as he pieced it together. She knew about Team X. She’d known this entire time. All the while, she’d kept him close, drawn him in, let him think he was getting to know her, that he was helping her let her guard down. But maybe it had been the other way around. Maybe she’d been watching him, studying him.

No, he told himself, gripping the edge of the desk to steady himself. That’s not her. It can’t be. He thought of the way she’d looked at him tonight, the way she’d opened up, let him see her vulnerability. She wasn’t faking that… was she?

He closed his eyes, a wave of regret and anger washing over him. He wanted to believe her, to believe that she hadn’t known who he was, that she hadn’t been playing him. But the evidence was here, right in front of him. She’d been planning to expose them—him—for God knows how long.

A soft sound made him look up. She was stirring on the couch, shifting under the blanket, her brow furrowing as if she could feel the tension radiating off him even in sleep. He shut the drawer quietly, his hands still shaking, and turned away, trying to pull himself together before she woke.

It was too late. Her eyes fluttered open, a soft, sleepy smile on her face as she blinked at him in the dim light. “Logan?” she murmured, her voice thick with drowsiness. “What… what’re you doing over there?”

He forced a smile, his heart a mess of anger and sorrow as he looked at her, standing in her cozy apartment that had, just minutes ago, felt like home. Now it felt like a stranger’s room, filled with shadows and secrets. “Just… looking around,” he said, his voice coming out rougher than he’d intended.

She sat up, running a hand through her hair, the gentle smile fading as she noticed the tension in his expression. “Is everything okay?”

He stared at her, searching her face for any hint of deception, any sign that she was lying to him. But all he saw was concern, confusion, and that same vulnerability that had drawn him to her in the first place. And suddenly, he felt like he was the one who was breaking.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his voice a low whisper, barely containing the hurt beneath it.

Her face went pale, her eyes widening. “What… what are you talking about?”

“Team X,” he said, the words heavy, almost accusing. “The documents. The notes. I saw them.” He gestured vaguely toward the desk, unable to stop the edge in his tone. “You’ve known about us this whole time, haven’t you?”

She opened her mouth to respond, then closed it, her eyes dropping to the floor. “Logan, I…” She took a shaky breath, her hands twisting together. “I didn’t mean for you to find out like this. I was… I was going to tell you. Eventually.”

“Tell me?” he repeated, his voice a harsh whisper. “Tell me that you’re planning to expose everything? Stryker, Team X… me?”

She looked up, her eyes bright with unshed tears, her voice trembling. “It’s not like that,” she whispered. “I didn’t…wasn’t doing it to hurt you. I wanted… I wanted people to know the truth. About what Stryker was making you do, making all of you do.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, the betrayal sinking in, heavy and painful. “So that’s it? You’ve just been studying me this whole time? Waiting to get enough dirt to make a story out of it?”

“No!” She shook her head, her voice breaking. “Logan, I… I didn’t plan any of this. Meeting you, being with you… it wasn’t part of the story. That’s real. You have to believe me.”

Logan felt himself falter, his anger wavering as he looked into her eyes. They were wide and glassy, filled with a desperate sincerity that made his chest ache. “How am I supposed to believe you?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper. “You’ve been lying to me this whole time.”

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she wiped it away quickly, her voice raw, trembling. “I know… I know how it looks. But please, Logan, you have to understand—I never wanted to hurt you. Or anyone else.” Her voice cracked, and she looked down, clutching her hands together. “I gave up the story before you even came here. Some guy threatened me at work—when I was still working at the newspaper. Said I was poking around in places I didn’t belong.” She let out a shaky breath. “I got scared. Decided to quit and… and disappear.”

Logan closed his eyes, the ache in his chest tightening, almost unbearable. Part of him wanted to turn around, to walk away and never look back, to spare himself the mess of feelings clawing their way through him. But another part—the part that had been drawn to her since the beginning, the part that had found something like peace in her arms—couldn’t let go. Not yet.

He opened his eyes, studying her, searching for any hint of deception. “So you ran,” he said quietly, his voice edged with disbelief. “You just… left it all behind?”

She nodded, her gaze distant, as if caught in the memory. “I thought if I hid, maybe they’d forget about me. But I knew…” She took a deep breath, her shoulders slumping. “I knew someone would come eventually. I couldn’t outrun it forever. I knew that… that I knew too much, even if I never published the story.”

She paused, then slowly rose to her feet, taking a step closer to him, her eyes never leaving his. “So when you and Wade showed up… I thought maybe that was it. That you were here to… finish the job.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper, and Logan saw the flash of fear in her eyes, the quiet acceptance beneath it that shook him to his core. “I accepted that.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, a fresh wave of anger and confusion washing over him. “You thought we were here to kill you?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “And you… you just accepted it?”

She nodded, wrapping her arms around herself as if trying to hold herself together. “I didn’t have a choice,” she said, her voice trembling. “I couldn’t go to anyone. I couldn’t trust anyone. Not after the threats… after the people who went quiet when I tried to ask questions.” Her gaze dropped, and he could see her fighting to keep her composure. “But then you started hovering around me. I thought you knew right from the start and was just toying with me but then I got to know you. And I started hoping that maybe… maybe it didn’t have to end that way.”

Logan felt his anger dissolve, replaced by a deep, painful empathy he hadn’t expected. He could see it now, all of it—the fear she must have lived with, the constant worry that she’d made a mistake she couldn’t take back. She’d been alone, hiding, looking over her shoulder… and yet she’d let him in, despite all of it.

“But you still didn’t tell me,” he said, his voice quieter now, laced with hurt. “You let me get close to you, you let me… fall for you, and you didn’t think I deserved to know the truth?”

Her face crumpled, another tear slipping down her cheek. “I didn’t want you to hate me,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I thought… I thought if I told you, you’d leave. Or worse—that you’d confirm what I’d been afraid of. That you were here to… end things.”

He swallowed, struggling to keep his own emotions in check. “So you kept it hidden. Just like you’ve kept everything else.”

She took a step closer, reaching out tentatively, her hand hovering between them. “Logan, please,” she murmured, her eyes searching his, filled with raw, unguarded vulnerability. “I was scared. I’ve been scared this whole time. And then you came into my life, and for the first time… I didn’t feel alone.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I thought maybe I’d finally found someone I could trust.”

He looked down at her hand, so close yet hesitant, and he felt the weight of her words settle over him, tugging at something deep inside. She hadn’t just been hiding; she’d been surviving, barely holding on, and he could see the toll it had taken on her—the guardedness, the fear, the way she’d kept everyone at arm’s length.

Slowly, he reached out, closing the distance between them, his fingers brushing hers. Her hand was cold, trembling slightly, and he felt a surge of protectiveness rise in him, stronger than the hurt, stronger than the anger. He looked into her eyes, searching for any trace of deception, but all he saw was a woman standing on the edge, hoping someone would finally reach out and pull her back.

“You don’t have to be afraid anymore,” he said softly, his voice a quiet promise. “Not of me.”

Her breath hitched, and she let out a shaky laugh, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. “You don’t know how badly I wanted to hear that,” she whispered. She took another step closer, her hand slipping into his, her grip tentative but real. “I’m so sorry, Logan… for everything. I didn’t mean for it to happen this way. I just… I didn’t know how to stop being afraid.”

He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly, feeling the way she melted against him, finally letting herself be vulnerable, finally allowing herself to trust. “It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice a soft rumble against her hair. “You don’t have to explain.”

She clung to him, her arms wrapped around his waist, her face pressed against his chest as if she were afraid to let go. He could feel her shaking, the quiet release of all the fear and tension she’d been holding for so long.

After a moment, she pulled back just enough to look up at him, her gaze filled with a fragile kind of hope. “Do you… do you think you could ever forgive me?”

Logan looked down at her, his thumb brushing away the last of her tears. “I already have,” he said quietly. “But I need you to be honest with me. No more secrets. No more hiding.”

She nodded a new determination settling in her eyes. “No more secrets,” she promised. “I’ll tell you everything. Whatever you want to know.”

He felt the weight of her words, the sincerity woven through every syllable. She was laying it all bare, trusting him with the truth she’d kept hidden for so long. But he knew this wouldn’t be easy—that there was still so much they’d have to face. Stryker wouldn’t let something like this go. Logan knew him too well; once Stryker had a target, he didn’t back off. And as much as he trusted Wade on a good day, there was a flicker of doubt nagging at him. Wade might be unpredictable, even reckless, but loyalty to Stryker ran deep. Logan wasn’t sure he’d want to risk involving him in this… not yet.

He looked down at her, taking in the way she leaned into him, her fingers trembling slightly as they entwined with his. She was strong, maybe stronger than he’d given her credit for, but there was a fragility to her now, a vulnerability she couldn’t quite hide. He wanted to protect her, to keep her safe from the mess he knew was waiting for them on the other side of this door.

“We’ll figure it out,” he murmured, his voice a low promise, rough but steady. “I’m not letting anything happen to you. I swear it.”

She nodded, her gaze steady on his, a glimmer of trust in her eyes mixed with the fear she couldn’t quite shake. Slowly, she leaned into him, pressing her forehead against his chest as if anchoring herself to him. Her fingers tightened around his, and he felt her take a shaky breath, steadying herself.

In the back of his mind, he knew the reality they’d soon have to face. Stryker wouldn’t back down, and the second he realized Logan was no longer his loyal soldier, he’d come after both of them with everything he had. Logan would have to be smart, and careful—because this wasn’t just his fight anymore. He was protecting her, and he’d go through hell before he let Stryker get his hands on her.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

Logan reluctantly left her apartment in the early morning light, the weight of everything pressing down on him. He hadn’t slept, his mind racing with thoughts of how to protect her, how to find a way out of this mess. It had been two months since he and Wade had first arrived in this city, sent by Stryker on what had felt like a routine assignment. But now, everything was different. He wasn’t just hunting down a journalist anymore. He was trying to protect her, and the stakes felt higher than they’d ever been.

He walked down the hall to his apartment, already tense as he thought about facing Wade. Wade wasn’t stupid; he’d been watching Logan grow more distracted, more distant. Sooner or later, Wade would start asking questions.

Logan opened the door, expecting to find Wade sprawled on the couch in his usual state of early-morning oblivion. But instead, he froze in the doorway, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene.

Wade was sitting upright, his expression oddly tight, watching as Stryker stood by the window, hands clasped behind his back. And next to Stryker, like some silent shadow, was Victor, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, a feral smile playing on his lips.

Logan’s stomach twisted. This wasn’t a casual check-in. Stryker and Victor didn’t just drop by without a reason. And the fact that they were here, together, sent a clear message: Stryker was losing patience.

“There he is. The big guy,” Wade said with a forced smile, his eyes flicking over to Logan. “Been wondering where you got off to.”

Logan shot him a hard look, cutting off any more commentary. “Been following a lead,” he said, his tone clipped, hoping Wade would understand the warning. “Another dead end.”

Stryker turned, his gaze sharp and assessing, a faint smirk on his face as if he could see right through Logan’s words. “Seems like you’ve been running into a lot of those lately, Logan,” he said, voice cold and controlled. “It’s almost as if you’re not taking this mission seriously.”

Logan clenched his jaw, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “You’re the one who sent us out here with nothing but scraps to go on,” he replied, his voice edged with frustration. “If you want results, maybe you should’ve given us more than vague orders and a damn ghost to chase.”

Stryker’s smirk widened, but his eyes were steel. “Funny. I thought I gave two of my best men an easy task. Thought you’d be able to handle a simple journalist.” He let the word linger, his gaze narrowing. “Maybe I was wrong.”

Beside him, Victor let out a low, rumbling chuckle, the sound crawling up Logan’s spine. “Guess little brother’s gone soft,” Victor said, his grin sharp and predatory. “Maybe you need a little help… cleaning things up.”

Logan tensed, feeling the familiar pulse of anger at Victor’s taunt, but he held himself in check. He couldn’t afford to show weakness, not now. “We don’t need your help,” he said flatly, his eyes locked on Stryker. “We’re close. Just need a little more time.”

Stryker raised an eyebrow, his gaze shifting from Logan to Wade, lingering just long enough that Logan felt a flicker of unease. “Close?” he repeated, a hint of mockery in his voice. “Interesting, because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re stalled. Distracted, even.”

Logan forced himself to stay calm, but he could feel the weight of Stryker’s scrutiny, the way his gaze seemed to strip away the layers, looking for cracks. He could only hope that his face betrayed nothing.

Stryker continued, his voice low, almost a murmur. “You know, I’ve heard some… interesting things about this journalist. Reserved. Guarded. Not the type to let things go. The kind who might blend in, fly under the radar.”

Logan’s heart skipped a beat, but he kept his face impassive, refusing to give anything away. But out of the corner of his eye, he saw Wade’s expression shift slightly, a glimmer of realization in his gaze. Logan felt a jolt of alarm as he saw Wade put two and two together. But to his relief, Wade stayed quiet, his face carefully neutral.

Stryker’s gaze sharpened. “So, let me be clear. I don’t care how ‘close’ you think you are. If I don’t see results soon, I’ll send someone else to finish the job. Someone with… fewer sentimental attachments.”

Victor’s grin widened, his gaze fixed on Logan like a predator sizing up its prey. “Wouldn’t mind a shot at this mystery journalist myself,” he drawled, his tone laced with menace. “I’ve got a knack for finding people who don’t want to be found. And once I find them…” He flexed his fingers, his claws slipping out, gleaming under the dim light. “Well, let’s just say they don’t stay hidden for long.”

Logan forced himself to stay steady, even as his pulse pounded in his ears. He knew exactly what Victor was capable of, and the thought of Victor tracking her down, getting his claws anywhere near her, made his stomach turn. He wanted to tear into Victor, to tell Stryker to back off, but he knew he couldn’t afford to give anything away. Not now. Not with her life on the line.

“Give us another week,” Logan said, his voice steady but laced with an edge of warning. “We’ll find them. You have my word.”

Stryker tilted his head, considering him, his expression unreadable. For a moment, there was silence, the tension in the room thick and suffocating. Then he gave a slow, cold smile. “Two days,” he said, holding Logan’s gaze with an intensity that made it clear he wasn’t offering any second chances. “After that… well, let’s just say I don’t think Victor will have much trouble picking up where you left off.”

Logan gave a tight nod, refusing to look at Victor as he spoke. “Understood.”

Stryker’s smile widened, satisfied. “Good. Then I’ll leave you to it.” He turned, gesturing for Victor to follow, but paused at the door, looking back over his shoulder. “And Logan? Make sure your priorities are… clear. I’d hate to think you were letting personal feelings get in the way of your work.”

With that, he strode out, Victor trailing behind him with one last lingering look that sent a shiver down Logan’s spine.

The door closed, leaving Logan and Wade alone in heavy silence. Wade sat back, crossing his arms, his expression unreadable as he studied Logan.

“So,” Wade said slowly, his tone light but his eyes sharp. “The journalist. Guarded, quiet… maybe someone who likes books, keeps to herself. Ring any bells?”

Logan’s jaw tightened, refusing to meet Wade’s gaze. “Drop it.”

Wade didn’t. He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a murmur. “Look, Logan, I get it. But if you’re gonna do this, you’d better be sure, because if Stryker finds out…” He trailed off, his meaning clear.

Logan closed his eyes for a brief second, the weight of everything pressing down on him. “I know the risks,” he said quietly, his voice barely a whisper. “But I’m not letting them touch her.”

Wade studied him for a long moment, and Logan could see the gears turning in his mind, the flicker of understanding mixed with reluctant respect. Finally, Wade leaned back, letting out a low sigh.

“Then we’d better make this convincing,” Wade muttered, his voice low, wary. “Because if Stryker or Victor get even a whiff of what’s going on, it’s over.”

Logan nodded, feeling his resolve harden into something sharp and unyielding. He knew what was at stake, knew the dangers that lurked in every step they took from here on out. Stryker had given him a week, but Logan didn’t trust him to keep that promise—not when he’d seen the glint in Victor’s eyes, the barely restrained hunger. Victor would do it in a heartbeat if he thought it’d get him back in Stryker’s good graces. Logan could practically feel the weight of the clock ticking down, and he knew he had to move fast.

“She didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” Logan muttered, more to himself than to Wade. “She just… she wanted to expose the system. Stryker. Everything he’s done to us.” His voice caught, the frustration and regret boiling beneath the surface. “She didn’t deserve this.”

Wade studied him quietly, a strange seriousness in his gaze. “Yeah, well, maybe she didn’t,” he replied, almost reluctantly. “You think I’m okay with half the things we’ve done? Or with the shit Stryker’s made us do? Hell, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about getting out myself if I thought there was a real chance.”

Logan looked at him, surprised. Wade rarely let his guard down, especially when it came to their line of work. This was a side of him Logan hadn’t seen before—raw, unguarded.

Wade sighed, running a hand over his face. “Look, man. I’ll help you,” he said, his voice softer now, carrying a note of real sincerity. “I don’t want her getting hurt, either. I’m not a monster. I know what Stryker will do if he gets his hands on her.” He paused, his gaze steady. “She doesn’t deserve that. And neither do you.”

Logan swallowed, the weight of Wade’s words settling over him like a lifeline he hadn’t known he needed. “So what are you suggesting?” he asked quietly, his voice barely a whisper, as if speaking too loud might shatter the fragile trust hanging between them.

Wade’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “If we’re gonna keep her out of Stryker’s sights, we’re gonna need to make this whole thing look legit,” he said, his tone calculating. “Stryker thinks we’re fumbling around because we don’t have any real leads. What if we… create a lead?”

Logan’s brow furrowed. “You mean fake it? Give Stryker something to chase?”

“Exactly,” Wade replied, his lips curving into a sly grin. “We leak a location, a name—hell, we can even plant some fake documents somewhere. Make him think she skipped town, got scared, and ran. If he’s chasing a ghost, he won’t have time to look too closely at what’s right under his nose.”

Logan felt a surge of hope, a sliver of light cutting through the tension. “You think he’ll buy it?”

Wade shrugged. “Stryker’s not as sharp as he likes to think he is. He’ll buy it if we sell it right.” He paused, a hint of doubt flickering in his eyes. “But you have to be careful. We make this move, and it’ll have to be airtight. Stryker doesn’t give second chances, especially not to his own men.”

Logan clenched his jaw, the gravity of Wade’s plan sinking in. It was risky. If Stryker suspected even for a second that they were feeding him false information, he’d come down on both of them—hard. But if it worked… it could buy them the time they needed.

“All right,” Logan said, his voice resolute. “We do this. We give him a trail to follow, keep him looking in the wrong places.”

Wade nodded, his expression grim but determined. “We’ll need to make it convincing. A name, maybe a fake contact, some breadcrumbs leading Stryker out of town.” He hesitated, then added, “And we’ll have to act like nothing’s changed. Like we’re still hunting her down.”

Logan felt a pang of guilt twist in his chest. He hated the idea of lying to her, of making her think he was still on Stryker’s leash. But he knew there was no other way. Stryker had eyes everywhere, and the slightest slip could put her life in even greater danger.

“We can’t tell her,” Logan murmured, more to himself than to Wade. “She can’t know we’re setting this up.”

Wade’s gaze softened, a rare flicker of sympathy in his usually sardonic eyes. “She doesn’t need to know,” he agreed. “Sometimes it’s better that way. Protects her, keeps her out of the crossfire.” He gave Logan a measured look. “Just… make sure she knows she can trust you. Because if she doesn’t, this whole thing falls apart.”

Logan nodded, steeling himself. “She’ll trust me,” he said, his voice low and firm. “I won’t let her down.”

A tense silence fell over them, each of them lost in thought, running through the plan in their minds. Finally, Wade broke the quiet, his voice barely more than a murmur. “One more thing,” he said, his gaze flickering toward the door as if expecting Stryker or Victor to barge back in at any moment. “Victor’s already suspicious. I saw the way he was looking at you like he knew something was off. If he gets even a hint of what we’re doing…”

Logan’s face hardened a dangerous glint in his eyes. “I’ll handle Victor.”

Wade studied him for a long moment, then nodded. “All right. Then we’re doing this.” He clapped a hand on Logan’s shoulder, his tone a mix of seriousness and forced humor. “Look at us, playing the heroes. Who would’ve thought?”

Logan managed a tight smile, but his mind was already racing with what had to happen next. He’d have to lie to her, to keep her in the dark while they set up the fake trail. He’d have to act like nothing had changed like he was still hunting her down—even as he worked to protect her.

“Thanks, Wade,” he said quietly, his voice sincere.

Wade shrugged, giving him a faint smirk. “Don’t thank me yet. Let’s get through this first.” He glanced over his shoulder, his expression turning grim again. “And let’s hope Stryker buys what we’re selling. Otherwise… this could get messy. Real fast.”

Logan nodded the weight of the plan settling on his shoulders. They had one shot to pull this off, to create a believable enough story to keep Stryker and Victor off her trail. He knew it was a gamble, but it was the only chance he had to protect her—to keep her out of Stryker’s reach.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

Logan’s mind churned with the details Wade had suggested, the lies they’d need to tell to sell this deception. He’d be walking a razor-thin line, but he was prepared to do whatever it took to protect her. But as he made his way down the hall to her apartment, a faint sense of unease prickled in his chest, like he was already too late.

He paused at her door, listening, making sure the hallway was empty before he knocked. A few seconds passed, and then the door cracked open, her wary eyes peeking through. Relief softened her face when she saw him.

“Oh, hey,” she said quietly, pulling the door open wider to let him in.

Logan stepped inside, closing the door firmly behind him and turning the lock, his eyes immediately scanning her small living space—a habit he’d developed since deciding to keep her safe. But something was different. There was an energy in the room, a tension he couldn’t quite place… until he noticed the duffle bag sitting on her couch, half-filled with clothes, a few books, and a stack of papers she’d been hastily shoving inside.

He froze, his stomach twisting. “Going somewhere?” he asked, trying to keep his tone steady.

She glanced at him, her expression conflicted. “Logan…” she started, her voice a mixture of determination and regret. She dropped another shirt into the bag, then zipped it up, her hands lingering on the worn fabric for a moment. “I have to go. I can’t stay here anymore.”

Logan’s chest tightened. Part of him wanted to be proud of her for being so smart, so aware of the danger circling them. But a much larger part of him was panicking, scrambling for a way to keep her here, to keep her safe. “You don’t have to do this,” he said, his voice low, urgent. “You don’t have to run.”

She shook her head, letting out a shaky breath as she straightened, her eyes meeting his with a fierce resolve. “Yes, I do, Logan. You know it as well as I do. You’re not the only one they’ll send after me. If you’re not going to… finish the job, someone else will.”

He clenched his fists, frustration, and fear tightening his throat. She was right, of course, and it made him want to tear down the entire system that had brought them to this point. But he couldn’t just let her walk away. “You think I can’t protect you?” he asked, his voice rough, almost a growl.

She softened, stepping closer to him, reaching up to place a gentle hand on his cheek. “I know you can,” she murmured. “If there’s anyone in this world I’d trust with my life, it’s you. But that’s exactly why I have to go. I can’t let you risk everything for me.”

Logan swallowed hard, his heart pounding at her touch, at the weight of her words. “I don’t care about the risks,” he whispered fiercely, covering her hand with his. “I’m not letting them touch you. Not Stryker, not Victor… no one.”

Her eyes glistened, and for a moment, he saw the vulnerability beneath her determination, the quiet fear she’d been trying so hard to hide. But she shook her head, pulling her hand back. “I won’t be the reason something happens to you. I won’t be responsible for that.”

“You’re not responsible for anything except staying safe,” he countered, his voice barely controlled. “I’ve got a plan. Wade and I, we’re gonna mislead Stryker, make him think you’re gone, that you’ve disappeared.”

She hesitated, her gaze flickering with hope before it dimmed again. “That’ll only work for so long. Sooner or later, Stryker will figure it out, and he’ll send someone else to hunt me down. You know that.”

Logan gritted his teeth, fighting the frustration boiling under his skin. “Then I’ll deal with it when that happens,” he said, his tone fierce, final. “I’m not letting you throw yourself out there, just waiting for them to find you.”

She let out a bitter laugh, her voice trembling. “Logan, do you hear yourself? You’re talking about going up against Stryker, against Victor, against all of them. They’ll come after you, too. They’ll kill you. And I… I can’t have that on my conscience.”

“Then don’t,” he shot back, taking a step closer, his gaze burning into hers. “Don’t put this all on you. I’m choosing this, understand? This isn’t about guilt or responsibility. It’s about me protecting the one good thing I’ve found in a long, damn time. And I’m not walking away from that. Not now.”

Her breath caught, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She reached up to touch his face again, her fingers trembling. “Logan… I never wanted this to happen. I didn’t want you to get involved, to risk everything for me.”

“Too late,” he murmured, his voice softer now, filled with a raw honesty that he couldn’t hide. “I’m already involved. I’m not walking away.”

She stared at him, torn, her gaze searching his face as if looking for some reassurance, some certainty. Slowly, she lowered her hand, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “Logan… if I stay, it’ll only make things worse. You and Wade might be able to mislead them for a little while, but eventually… eventually, they’ll catch up. And I can’t keep hiding, knowing that every second, you’re risking your life just to keep me safe.”

Logan took a deep breath, trying to keep himself steady. He understood her fear, her need to run. But he couldn’t let her go. Not when he knew exactly what would happen if she faced Stryker’s men on her own. “Then let me come with you,” he said quietly. “We’ll disappear together. Start fresh somewhere. Somewhere they can’t find us.”

She looked at him, surprised, her eyes widening. “You’d… you’d leave everything behind?”

“In a heartbeat,” he replied, his gaze unwavering. “I’d leave it all if it meant keeping you safe. You think I care about Stryker? About Team X? That life’s got nothing for me. Not anymore.”

Finally, she opened her eyes, meeting his gaze with a mixture of determination and vulnerability. “If you do this… there’s no going back.”

“I know,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. He took her hand in his, his thumb tracing gentle circles over her knuckles. “But if it means keeping you safe, keeping you with me… then it’s worth it.”

After a moment, she squeezed his hand, nodding slowly. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, but filled with a quiet resolve.

Logan pulled her into his arms, wrapping her up tightly, as if he could shield her from every danger waiting outside her door. He could feel her heartbeat against his chest, steady and warm, grounding him in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Just trust me, okay?” he murmured, his voice soft but fierce. He needed her to believe him, to know he wouldn’t let anything happen to her.

She nodded against his chest, her face buried against him, her hands moving up and down his back in gentle, comforting circles. For a while, they stood there in silence, wrapped in each other, until she looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with something that went beyond fear—something softer, deeper.

“Logan,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. She hesitated, searching his face. “Would you… kiss me?”

Her voice was fragile like she was afraid the question might break something between them. He looked down at her, taking in the delicate curve of her lips, the way they parted slightly as she spoke. Her cheeks were flushed, her gaze open and vulnerable in a way that hit him like a punch to the gut.

He swallowed, his thumb brushing over her cheek, unsure if she truly wanted this or if it was just the adrenaline, the danger, that was pushing her toward him. “Are you sure?” he asked quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “Is this… because of what’s happening? Or do you—”

But she silenced him by leaning in, her lips brushing softly against his. Her fingers slipped up to tangle in his hair. She kissed him like she was gathering her courage, like every fear, every doubt, was melting away with that one simple touch.

When she pulled back, her eyes met his, and he saw the truth there, raw and honest. “I’ve wanted this for a while,” she murmured, her voice steady, no hesitation left. “Hell, probably since that night at the club… but I was scared. Scared of what you might see if I let you in. Scared of getting close, because… because I thought I’d lose you, too.” She let out a shaky breath. “But I’m not scared anymore.”

Logan felt his defenses crumble, the walls he’d built around himself falling away under the weight of her words. She wasn’t running, wasn’t hiding behind excuses or fear. She was standing there, bare and unguarded, and trusting him with her heart. His chest tightened, an ache spreading through him as he realized just how much he needed this—needed her.

He leaned down slowly, giving her a chance to pull away if she wanted, but she didn’t move. Her gaze held his, steady and waiting, and he closed the remaining space between them, his lips capturing hers in a kiss. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, he felt the intensity build, something raw and desperate spilling over between them.

Her fingers tightened in his hair, her lips parting against his, and he deepened the kiss, pouring every unsaid word, every unspoken feeling into it. She tasted like warmth and hope and everything he’d thought he couldn’t have, everything he’d thought he’d lost. He held her close, his hands splaying across her back, anchoring her to him as if letting go wasn’t even an option.

“I’m not letting anything happen to you,” he murmured against her lips, his voice low and fierce. “Not while I’m here.”

She smiled, her gaze soft yet intense, and he felt her hands drift to his chest, coming to rest just over his heart. Her touch was light but grounding, a steady warmth that seemed to settle him in a way he hadn’t felt in years. “I know,” she whispered, her voice carrying a quiet certainty that made his heartache.

Her fingers moved slowly, almost reverently, tracing the lines of his chest before they dipped down to the hem of his shirt. She hesitated, looking up at him for permission, her eyes filled with a mixture of hope and need. Logan felt his breath hitch as she tugged gently at the fabric, her silent invitation hanging in the air between them.

For a moment, he froze, an instinctive caution holding him back. This was dangerous, selfish even. He knew he should be focusing on getting her to safety, on keeping his guard up. But with her here, looking at him like he was something more than a weapon, something worth risking everything for… he felt his resolve crumble. If this was the only chance they’d have to be together, then he couldn’t bring himself to turn it away. He needed her, needed this moment—something real and honest before everything went dark again.

With a quiet exhale, he lifted his arms, helping her pull his shirt over his head. Her fingers trailed against his skin as the fabric slipped away, leaving a faint trail of warmth in their wake. He could see the way she looked at him, her gaze softening as she took him in, the faint scars across his chest, the tension in his shoulders slowly easing under her touch.

Before he could say anything, she leaned up, pulling him into another kiss. This one was deeper, bolder, a raw edge of longing slipping into the gentle rhythm. Her hands moved up his chest, exploring the contours of his body with a quiet reverence that made him shiver. He wrapped his arms around her, guiding her backward, his hands steady on her waist as they sank onto the couch together.

They moved slowly, unhurried, as if savoring each touch, each shared breath. Her hands roamed over his bare skin, tracing the lines of muscle like she was memorizing him, piece by piece. There was a tenderness in her touch, a quiet understanding that made him feel seen, not just as Logan the soldier, the protector, but as something more—a man who had carried his pain, his regrets, and was finally allowing someone else in.

Her lips brushed along his jaw, down his neck, each touch light but deliberate, and he closed his eyes, letting himself be vulnerable in a way he never allowed himself to be. He felt her fingers tangle in his hair, her breath warm against his skin, and the weight of the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the quiet intimacy between them.

She pulled him closer, her fingers tracing along his shoulders. He could feel her heartbeat against his chest, steady and sure, grounding him in the moment. Every touch, every kiss was filled with a quiet urgency, an unspoken understanding that this might be all they had—a single, stolen night in a world that didn’t want them to exist together.

Her hands slipped beneath the waistband of his jeans, her fingertips trailing softly over his skin, and Logan shuddered under her touch. It wasn’t something he was used to—being touched like this, with care, with reverence—but he leaned into it, letting her pull him closer. His own hands moved instinctively, gliding down the curve of her back, mapping every line, every delicate angle as if trying to commit her to memory.

“You’re so beautiful,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, her words full of quiet sincerity as she tugged his jeans down his hips. Her eyes roamed over him, taking him in as if he were something precious.

Logan huffed out a quiet laugh, the sound rough and unpracticed. “Beautiful?” he echoed, a faint, self-deprecating grin tugging at his lips. It was strange hearing that word directed at him—foreign in a way that made him feel both exposed and disarmed. “I’m looking at beautiful, and it sure as hell isn’t me.”

She shook her head, a gentle smile softening her features. “You don’t see it, do you?” she said, her gaze steady and unwavering, as though daring him to believe her. Before he could respond, she leaned down, brushing her lips against his, silencing his doubts. The kiss deepened, slow and consuming, and Logan felt the world narrow until it was just her—her hands, her lips, her warmth against him.

His hands moved to undress her in return, his touch deliberate and steady. He didn’t rush, savoring every inch of newly revealed skin, every sigh and soft laugh that escaped her lips as their barriers fell away, one by one, until there was nothing left between them.

Her body fit against his like it had always been meant to, her warmth grounding him as they moved together, finding a rhythm that felt both new and ancient, as if they’d known each other in a thousand lifetimes before this one. Logan let himself get lost in her—her touch, her scent, the quiet, breathless way she said his name like it was something sacred. For the first time in what felt like forever, he let himself feel fully present, fully alive.

When it was over, they lay tangled together in silence for a while, the room dark and still, their own private world created in the quiet spaces between breaths. Her head rested against his chest, her breath warm and steady, rising and falling in time with his. Logan ran his fingers through her hair absentmindedly, marveling at the softness of it, at how natural it felt to hold her like this. He felt her fingertips tracing lazy patterns along his side, as if she couldn’t bear to let go of him entirely. He wanted to say something, to tell her that he’d protect her, that he’d find a way to keep her safe no matter what. But he knew that promises like that were fragile, easily broken.

Instead, he pulled her a little closer, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. “No matter what happens tomorrow… tonight was real,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “This—us—it’s real.”

She looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with a quiet strength. “I know,” she whispered, her fingers tracing gentle circles on his chest. “You deserve this, Logan. You deserve to be seen…and to be loved.” Her voice wavered slightly on the last word, but she didn’t look away. 

Those words hit harder than he’d ever admit. He swallowed thickly, his throat tight. He wanted to argue, to tell her she was wrong, that he wasn’t worth all this. But the way she looked at him—steady, unflinching—made it impossible. She meant it. She saw all the broken, jagged pieces of him, and she wasn’t afraid of them.

He nodded once, unable to speak, and pulled her back down into his arms. She settled against him, her body curling naturally into his, and he let his hand trace down her back again, slow and deliberate. He closed his eyes, resting his chin against the top of her head. 

The apartment settled into quiet stillness, a fragile peace settling over them. They both knew the danger waiting just outside these walls, the fight that lay ahead was far from over. However, Logan knew he’d fight a thousand battles to keep this feeling, this moment. 

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

A loud banging jolted Logan awake, dragging him out of a restless sleep. He shot upright, disoriented, the harsh sound echoing through the quiet apartment. In his confusion, he rolled off the couch, hitting the floor hard. He cursed under his breath, fumbling to pull on his jeans when a sick feeling settled in his gut.

She was gone.

His eyes darted around the room, his heart pounding as he took in the emptiness around him. Her coat was missing from the hook by the door, and the books and papers she’d been packing away last night were gone. The duffle bag she’d packed was gone. 

He rushed through the apartment, searching—her bedroom, the bathroom, every small corner where she might have left something behind. But it was empty. 

No, no, no, he thought, his chest tightening with a fierce, helpless frustration. She’d left without a word, without so much as a note. After everything they’d shared, after he’d sworn he’d keep her safe… she’d still chosen to leave.

The banging on the door grew louder, more insistent, accompanied by a voice muffled through the thin walls. “Logan! Open the damn door!” It was Wade, but Logan couldn’t bring himself to move, couldn’t pull himself out of the numb shock settling over him. She was gone, and he didn’t know where. His promise to protect her felt hollow, empty.

He stood in the middle of her apartment, his eyes scanning the space as if hoping for some clue, something she’d left behind that would help him understand why she’d run. But there was nothing. Just the quiet, heavy emptiness where she’d been.

The banging turned into a relentless pounding. “Logan! For god’s sake, open up!” Wade’s voice was growing louder, more urgent.

Logan clenched his jaw, swallowing the knot in his throat. He headed toward the door with a sense of dread pooling in his stomach. When he opened it, Wade practically stumbled inside, his expression unusually serious.

“Finally,” Wade muttered, glancing over Logan’s shoulder as if expecting to see her. “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been pounding on this door for ten minutes.”

Logan’s gaze was hard, distant. “She’s gone, Wade,” he said, his voice rough. “I woke up, and… she was just gone.”

Wade’s face twisted in a grimace, and he ran a hand over his face. “Yeah, I figured. She came by the apartment earlier. Banged on our door like her life depended on it. Woke me up.” He gave Logan a look that was half sympathy, half irritation. “She told me to tell you… she was sorry.”

Logan’s jaw clenched, anger and frustration boiling beneath the surface. Sorry. She’d left him with nothing but an apology after he’d risked everything to protect her. After he’d trusted her, let her in… after he’d started to think they could build something together.

“Did she say anything else?” he demanded, his voice a low growl. “Anything about where she was going?”

Wade shook his head, his expression darkening. “No. I’m sorry but it’s smart she got out of here.” He glanced over his shoulder, lowering his voice. “We’ve got a problem. I think Stryker’s onto us. He’s been sniffing around. I caught Victor hanging around across the street.” 

Logan’s fists clenched at his sides, the weight of the situation settling heavily on him. Of course, Stryker knew something was up. He should have expected this. The plan had always been risky, a desperate attempt to mislead a man who saw through lies like smoke. And now, with her gone, the whole thing was falling apart.

Wade leaned closer, his voice low and urgent. “Look, we need to move fast. Whatever you’re planning, we gotta do it now. If Stryker’s catching on, it’s only a matter of time before he comes after her for real. And if he finds her…” He trailed off, his meaning clear.

Logan’s heart hammered as he forced himself to focus, trying to pull his mind back from the raw edge of loss and anger. “She thinks she’s protecting me,” he said bitterly, more to himself than to Wade. “Running because she thinks I’ll be safer if she’s not here.”

Wade raised an eyebrow, his expression a mix of exasperation and reluctant sympathy. “Sounds like she’s smarter than the both of us. Hell, I’d run too if I thought it would keep me off Victor’s radar.”

Logan shot him a hard look, his fists clenching tighter. “She doesn’t know what she’s up against.”

“Maybe not,” Wade agreed, his tone unusually serious. “But she’s doing what she thinks is right. And for what it’s worth, I respect that. She’s not sitting around, waiting to be rescued. She’s trying to keep you out of this mess, and that’s… something.”

Logan felt a surge of frustration, the helplessness gnawing at him. “I don’t care what she thinks she’s doing. I’m not letting her face Stryker and Victor on her own.” His voice hardened, his resolve solidifying into something fierce and unbreakable. “I told her I’d protect her. And I damn well meant it.”

Wade looked at him, his gaze steady. “Then we’re gonna need to be smart about this,” he said, his voice low. “If she’s already on the move, there’s a good chance Stryker’s got eyes out for her. You need to get to her first before they do.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, his mind racing as he considered their options. “We can use the plan. Fake her trail, lead Stryker in the wrong direction. But if he’s already suspicious…”

Wade shrugged, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “Then we make him more suspicious. Feed him a lead so juicy he won’t be able to resist it. We throw everything we’ve got into it. Make it big, make it messy. Enough to keep him off her back while we get her out of here for good.”

Logan nodded slowly, a grim determination settling over him. It was risky, and it would take every bit of their combined skills to pull it off. But if it meant keeping her safe—if it meant giving her a chance to disappear, to live her life free of Stryker’s shadow—then he’d do whatever it took.

“All right,” he said, his voice a low growl. “Let’s get moving.”

Wade nodded, clapping him on the shoulder, his gaze sharp and focused. “You find her, I’ll handle the rest. Give me a few hours, and I’ll have Stryker running in circles.”

Logan looked at him, the unspoken gratitude clear in his eyes. “Thanks, Wade.”

Wade gave him a crooked smile. “Don’t thank me yet. Just don’t get yourself killed, all right? I’m not doing this solo.”

Logan managed a faint smirk, but his mind was already racing, already focused on one thing: finding her, convincing her that she didn’t have to run, that they could face this together.

He’d promised to protect her. No matter the cost, he was going to keep that promise.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

Logan followed her scent for miles, his truck tearing down winding backroads, kicking up dust as he pushed it to the limit. Her trail was faint but steady, and he clung to it like a lifeline, refusing to let himself consider what would happen if he lost it. By the time he’d driven nearly thirty miles out of town, the sun was setting, casting long shadows over the dense trees that lined the road. He pulled into a tiny, near-deserted town nestled against the edge of a sprawling forest. It was the kind of place you could disappear in, where strangers barely looked at each other and the silence was thick, almost eerie.

He parked his truck just outside a rundown motel, the scent of pine and damp earth mixing with her faint trace. She was close—he could feel it. A flicker of relief spread through him, mingling with the desperation he’d been fighting back since he’d found her apartment empty. He started toward the motel, his mind racing with what he’d say to her, how he’d convince her to stop running, to trust him one last time.

Just as he stepped onto the gravel path, he felt it—a familiar, chilling presence. A dark shadow in the periphery, slipping out from behind the trees like a predator closing in on its prey.

Logan stopped, every muscle tensing. He didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Gotta say, little brother,” came the low, mocking drawl, “didn’t think you’d make it this easy for me.”

Logan clenched his fists, his jaw tightening as he turned slowly, his gaze locking onto Victor’s hulking figure. Victor leaned against a tree, his arms crossed, that twisted grin on his face, eyes glinting with something dark and dangerous.

“You really shouldn’t be here, Victor,” Logan said, his voice a low, deadly warning. “Walk away. This doesn’t concern you.”

Victor let out a harsh laugh, pushing himself off the tree and stepping closer, his gaze sharp, predatory. “Oh, but it does concern me,” he sneered. “Stryker sent me to clean up your mess, seeing as you’ve gone all soft on us. Figured if you weren’t gonna take care of business, I’d handle it myself.”

Logan felt a surge of rage, his hands flexing at his sides. “You’re not touching her,” he growled. “She’s got nothing to do with this.”

Victor smirked, cocking his head as he looked Logan up and down, clearly enjoying the fire in his brother’s eyes. “Funny. That’s not what she thought a few months ago.” He took another step closer, his gaze cold and unfeeling. “Didn’t tell you, did she? I was the one who had a little chat with her back then. Warned her to stay out of Stryker’s business. But she didn’t listen. Thought she could just run off and hide.” He shrugged a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Should’ve put her down right then and there.”

Logan’s heart pounded as the pieces finally snapped into place. It had been Victor all along. Victor was the one who’d made her life hell, who’d driven her to run, who’d forced her into the shadows with a constant, gnawing fear that never left her. And now he was here, ready to finish what he’d started.

“You threatened her,” Logan growled, his voice dangerously low, each word laced with barely controlled fury. “That’s why she left her job. Why she has been looking over her shoulder this whole time? You’re the reason she’s running.”

Victor chuckled, a dark, twisted sound that only fueled Logan’s rage. “Yeah, she needed a little lesson in minding her own business,” he sneered, taking a slow, taunting step closer. “She was asking too many damn questions, poking her nose where it didn’t belong. Someone had to remind her there are places you don’t go unless you want trouble.” He tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with disdain. “And now, here you are, risking your neck for some nosy little journalist who should’ve known better. Makes me wonder if you’ve forgotten who you really are.”

Logan’s fists clenched, the muscles in his arms coiling like springs ready to snap. His knuckles were bone-white, barely containing the rage building inside him. “You don’t know a damn thing about her,” he spat, his voice cold, lethal.

Victor’s grin widened, his satisfaction evident in the cruel spark in his eyes. “Oh, I know enough. Enough to see she’s turned you soft.” He let the word hang, taunting. “The Logan I knew wouldn’t be wasting his time on some pathetic little tagalong. The Logan I knew would’ve put a claw through her throat the second she got too close.” He shook his head in mock disappointment, his voice dripping with venom. “But now? Now you’re just a lovesick fool.”

Logan took a step forward, his chest heaving, the air around him almost vibrating with barely restrained violence. His voice was low, and steady, each word sharp as a blade. “Call it whatever you want. But you lay one finger on her, and I’ll rip you apart.”

Victor’s expression darkened, his twisted smirk fading as he squared up to Logan, rolling his shoulders, his fists clenching in anticipation. “You really think you can protect her from me? From us?” he sneered. “She’s a loose end, and I don’t leave loose ends.”

Logan felt a familiar, white-hot fury boiling up inside him. It was all starting to make sense now—Stryker’s vague orders, the lack of intel. Stryker hadn’t known the journalist’s identity at first. He’d been kept in the dark, fed just enough information to justify sending Logan and Wade on this mission. Meanwhile, Victor, arrogant and reckless, had dismissed her as a minor annoyance… until Stryker finally connected the dots and ordered her elimination.

Now, with Stryker’s orders confirmed, Victor was out for blood. He didn’t just see her as a target—he saw her as a loose end he should have handled himself long ago. And in Victor’s world, there was no forgiveness for those kinds of mistakes.

Logan knew he should keep a clear head, and should think strategically. But hearing Victor talk about her like that—as if she were nothing as if she didn’t matter—sent a roar of anger through his veins, drowning out any restraint he’d managed to hold onto.

Logan bared his teeth, the raw anger coiled tight within him. “Let Stryker try,” he snarled. “I’ll take him down myself if I have to. And you? You’re gonna regret coming here.”

Victor let out a low, menacing laugh, shaking his head. “Always so dramatic.” He glanced toward the motel, a twisted gleam in his eyes. “You think she’s safe in there? Right now, hiding, waiting for you to come sweep her off her feet? She’s already dead, Logan. She just doesn’t know it yet.”

Logan lunged forward, fists flying as he swung at Victor with everything he had. But Victor was ready, sidestepping and delivering a brutal punch to Logan’s ribs, sending him staggering back. Pain flared up his side, but Logan didn’t back down. He launched himself at Victor again, his claws slipping out.

They clashed in a blur of movement, snarling, claws slashing, each one trying to gain the upper hand. The forest echoed with the sounds of their struggle, leaves crunching underfoot as they grappled, neither willing to give an inch. Logan could feel the bruises forming, the sting of cuts across his skin, but he pushed it aside, focusing only on one thing: keeping Victor away from her.

Victor laughed, a cruel sound that grated against Logan’s ears. “You’re wasting your time, little brother,” he taunted, dodging another swing. “You can’t protect her from this. You’re only dragging it out, making it harder for her in the end.”

Logan’s vision blurred with rage, his mind flashing to her face, the way she’d looked at him last night with such trust, such faith. “I’ll protect her from you, from Stryker, from anyone who tries to hurt her,” he spat. “She’s not just some target.”

Victor’s grin faded, something dark flickering in his eyes as he lunged forward, their faces inches apart. “Then you’re as good as dead,” he whispered, his voice filled with cold certainty. “Because if you don’t kill her, I will.”

The words sliced through Logan, sharp and vicious, and he knew—this wasn’t just about her. This was about everything Victor and Stryker had made him into, everything he’d spent his life running from. And now, standing in the middle of this empty forest, he had a choice.

He drew back, chest heaving, glaring at Victor with a look of pure determination. “Not this time,” he growled. “You don’t get to take this from me.” 

Victor smirked, but there was something wary in his gaze now. “We were supposed to stay by each other.” 

Before Logan could respond, Victor backed away, his eyes never leaving Logan’s, a silent promise of the bloodshed to come. Logan watched him disappear into the trees, his chest heaving as he fought to steady his breath. He knew Victor would be back. He knew Stryker wouldn’t stop until she was dead.

Logan understood why she’d run. He hated it, but he understood. He’d brought Victor here, right to her doorstep, and now she was in danger all over again. He felt a surge of frustration at himself, at the whole damn situation, but there was nothing he could do about that now.

He looked up at the rundown motel in front of him, its paint peeling and windows grimy, blending into the shadows of the forest like it had something to hide. Part of him knew he should keep his distance, and avoid drawing attention to her last known location. But he couldn’t just walk away, not without making sure she was okay.

Following her scent, he made his way down the narrow row of rooms until he stopped in front of one of the doors, his pulse pounding in his ears. Her scent lingered here, strong but fading. He knocked softly, hoping she was inside, praying she’d throw open the door and let him tell her that they could figure this out, that she didn’t have to run.

But there was only silence. The door creaked open under his touch, swinging inward with a quiet groan. Logan’s heart sank, dread clawing at him as he stepped inside. The room was empty.

Panic flared up in his chest, and for a split second, his mind went to the worst-case scenario. What if Victor had gotten here first? What if he’d taken her? Logan forced himself to breathe, to push the thought down. He couldn’t afford to lose control, not now.

He took a few steps deeper into the room, eyes scanning every corner. Her scent was everywhere—lingering in the air, clinging to the worn bedspread, the nightstand, the small chair by the window. But she was gone, vanished like a ghost.

A wave of relief washed over him, mixed with an aching sense of loss. She’d left before Victor could get to her, no doubt trying to throw him off her trail. She was smarter than he’d ever given her credit for, brave enough to stay one step ahead. But that didn’t stop the hollow feeling settling in his chest as he realized she was truly gone.

Logan’s gaze drifted to the nightstand beside the bed, where the drawer was pulled slightly open. Something about it caught his eye, and he felt a strange, uneasy pull as he reached for the handle. He slid the drawer open, his heart pounding, and found a folded piece of paper inside.

He unfolded it, his eyes scanning the messy, hurried handwriting that was unmistakably hers.

Logan,

If you’re reading this, it means you found me. Or at least, you came close. I don’t know what I expected, thinking I could slip away from you. You’ve always been relentless, and maybe that’s part of why I…

He paused, his heart clenching as he read the next words, written in smaller, more delicate script.

…why I fell in love with you.

That’s exactly why I can’t stay. I know you’d do anything to protect me, but it’s too dangerous. You’ve already risked so much, and the last thing I want is to be the reason something happens to you. You have your own battles to fight, your own ghosts to face. I can’t be one more burden for you to carry.

I’m sorry for all of this. For dragging you into my mess, for making you feel like you had to choose between protecting me and yourself. You don’t deserve that.

This… us… it’s better this way. I’ll find a way to keep myself safe, and maybe someday, we’ll meet again under different circumstances. But for now, I need you to let me go. 

I’ll always remember you, Logan. The way you looked at me, the way you made me feel like I mattered in a world that had tried so hard to erase me. You gave me something I didn’t know I was missing, and I’ll be grateful for that, always.

Logan’s hand shook as he held the note, his breath catching in his throat. He read the words again, letting each one sink in like a dagger, twisting deeper with every line. She loved him. She loved him enough to let him go, to believe that leaving was the only way to protect him.

A raw ache spread through his chest, mingling with a fierce anger that he couldn’t direct at anyone but himself. She thought she was doing what was best, though she was sparing him somehow. But didn’t she understand? There was no protecting him from this. There was no way he could just let her walk out of his life.

Logan closed his eyes, swallowing hard. He could practically hear her voice in those words, feel her resolve, her heartbreak. She was trying to be strong, to be brave. But she was wrong if she thought he’d let her face this alone.

Logan stared down at the note, his hand shaking as he folded it carefully, the paper crinkling under the pressure of his grip. Her words echoed in his mind, each line a quiet, devastating goodbye as if she thought he could just let her walk away and disappear without a fight. She didn’t understand—couldn’t understand—that there was no version of this world where he’d ever be able to let her go.

He slipped the note into his pocket, the weight of it settling against his heart like a brand, and took a final look around the empty motel room. The faded bedspread, the cracked mirror, the soft imprint of where she’d sat on the edge of the bed—it all seemed to echo with her presence, taunting him with the memory of how close she’d been, how real it had all felt. But now the silence was heavy, a hollow reminder of everything he’d lost, and the anger simmering inside him began to burn hotter.

His jaw tightened, a new determination hardening his features as he spoke softly into the empty room. “Sorry, darlin’,” he muttered, his voice rough, laced with a dark promise. “But you don’t get to decide that for me.”

With that, he turned on his heel and strode out of the room, his footsteps heavy and sure. The cool night air hit him as he stepped outside, filling his lungs and sharpening his focus. The quiet town was bathed in moonlight, casting shadows across the deserted streets, and at that moment, Logan knew exactly what he had to do.

He couldn’t keep playing defense, couldn’t keep letting Stryker and Victor call the shots. If he wanted to protect her, to end this once and for all, he’d have to confront the very men who had made him into a weapon. And if they wanted him to be the monster, the animal they’d tried to create… then that’s exactly what he’d show them.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

Logan made it back to the apartment just as dawn was breaking, the pale light casting long shadows across the empty streets. He hadn’t slept and hadn’t stopped moving since he’d left the motel. His mind was on a relentless loop, thinking of her, of Stryker, of the promises he’d made to protect her. But now, as he approached the bar’s entrance, he saw Wade waiting outside, slouched against the wall, a grim expression on his bruised face.

Logan’s eyes narrowed, taking in the fresh cuts and swelling around Wade’s left eye, the blood crusting at the corner of his mouth. His knuckles were raw, split open like he’d been in a hell of a fight. Logan’s stomach twisted.

“What the hell happened?” Logan growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Wade glanced up, managing a weak smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Victor happened. Thought he could beat the crap out of me,” he replied, wiping a smear of blood from his lip with the back of his hand. “I showed him, though. Stabbed him a few times.” He raised one of his katanas, the blade slick with blood that hadn’t yet dried.

Logan’s jaw clenched, his fists curling as he processed what this meant. “Victor was here?” he asked, barely controlling the fury simmering beneath his words.

Wade gave a tight nod, his expression turning serious. “Yeah. Came looking for answers shortly after you left. Seems he figured something was up, and started sniffing around. When I didn’t give him what he wanted, he got… persuasive.” Wade gestured to his bruised face, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “I didn’t talk, but he knew enough to put two and two together.”

Logan cursed under his breath, pacing in a tight circle as he tried to keep his rage in check. “Did he go back to Stryker?” he demanded.

Wade nodded, wincing as he stretched a bruised shoulder. “Didn’t stick around long enough to ask him, but he took off right after he was done using me as a punching bag. If I had to guess, he’s already reported back to Stryker.”

The implications sank in like a stone. Stryker knew. They’d blown their cover, and it was only a matter of time before Stryker sent everything he had to hunt her down.

“Do you have any idea where they went?” Logan asked, his voice tight, barely controlled. He could feel the urgency gnawing at him, clawing up his spine, urging him to move, to find her before it was too late.

Wade shook his head, his expression frustrated. “No idea. But I did catch him muttering something about an island before he stormed off. Could be nothing… or it could be where Stryker’s holed up.”

“An island?” Logan’s mind raced, trying to connect the pieces. Stryker had always preferred remote locations, places that were hard to reach, and easy to defend. An island would be perfect for him, isolated and far from prying eyes. It would give him every advantage if he was planning to lay a trap.

Wade nodded, his gaze sharp. “Yeah. He didn’t say which one, but I did some digging after he left. There’s an old military facility about twenty miles off the coast. Rumor has it, Stryker’s been using it as a base for… whatever twisted shit he’s been up to lately.”

Logan’s eyes darkened, the pieces falling into place. “If Victor’s told him everything, Stryker will go straight for her. He’ll want answers, want to know how much she knows about Team X.” He didn’t say what they both knew Stryker would do to get those answers. Torture, interrogation… if Stryker got his hands on her, it wouldn’t end until she was broken.

Wade met his gaze, the usual sarcasm gone from his eyes. “Then we’d better move. If we’re gonna catch them, we can’t waste any more time.”

Logan took a deep breath, feeling the fire of determination settle into something ice-cold, something unbreakable. “You’re right. We get to that island, we take out Stryker, and we bring her back.”

Wade gave a grim nod, sheathing his katana with a sharp click. “Finally, something exciting,” he muttered, managing a smirk despite the bruises. “I was getting real tired of this babysitting gig. Let’s go cause some damage.”

Logan didn’t bother responding. His mind was already miles away, focused entirely on the mission ahead. He wouldn’t let Stryker get his hands on her. Not now, not ever. Stryker had taken enough from him, twisted enough lives. This was where it ended.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

Logan and Wade moved through the dense jungle in silence, each step sinking into the thick, damp earth. Shadows clung to them, swallowing their movements in darkness, but Logan’s senses were sharp, honed. The night air was heavy with the scent of pine and saltwater, the distant crash of waves muted by the thick canopy above. Overhead, the moon cast a pale, silver glow, but it barely touched the ground through the dense branches, leaving them in near-total darkness.

They’d anchored the boat a mile offshore, slipping onto the island undetected, and now the fortress loomed ahead—a grim, sprawling structure hidden on the far edge of the island. Tall walls surrounded it, topped with barbed wire that glinted under the floodlights, which swung in sweeping arcs across the perimeter. The place was built like a prison, and somewhere inside, she was trapped.

Wade glanced over, his usual smirk absent, replaced by a focused, steely expression. “So,” he whispered, barely audible over the rustling leaves, “we going in loud, or are we keeping it quiet? ‘Cause I gotta tell you, I’m itching to blow this place to hell.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, his gaze fixed on the fortress. “We ambush them,” he said, his voice low and hard. “Stay together unless they try to split us up. If Stryker tries to run, he’s yours. I’m going for Victor.”

Wade nodded, his eyes gleaming with a hint of wild excitement. “Copy that, boss. But just so we’re clear—if Stryker so much as breathes in my direction, he’s getting a bullet between the eyes.”

They crept to the edge of the outer fence, crouching low as they scanned the patrols circling the perimeter. Wade pulled a pair of wire cutters from his pack and looked at Logan, waiting for the signal. Logan gave a sharp nod, and Wade moved swiftly, slicing through the fence just enough for them to slip through. Together, they moved like shadows, weaving between patrols and ducking under cameras, their every movement silent and precise. They reached the main building, slipping inside just as a guard passed by, oblivious to the intruders in the night.

Inside, the facility was cold and dimly lit, a maze of concrete corridors that smelled of metal and stale air. The hum of machinery vibrated through the walls, punctuated by the distant footsteps of guards. Logan’s senses were on high alert, his every nerve tuned to the sounds around him. And then he heard it—a faint, familiar voice echoing somewhere deep in the building.

His heart twisted, his blood running cold. It was her.

He signaled to Wade, and they moved swiftly through the winding hallways, following the faint sounds of conversation and the occasional clang of metal. They passed locked rooms and sterile, empty cells, their shadows stretching long under the flickering fluorescent lights. Finally, they rounded a corner, coming face-to-face with a heavy metal door at the end of a narrow corridor. There, standing guard with his back to them, was one of Stryker’s men.

Logan didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward, his fist connecting with the guard’s jaw before the man could react. The guard crumpled to the ground with a muffled grunt, unconscious before he even hit the floor.

Wade grinned, crouching down to pick up the guard’s keycard. “See? I told you we make a good team.” He swiped the card against the reader, and the door slid open with a mechanical hiss.

They slipped inside, weapons ready, and moved down a long, dimly lit hallway. At the end of it was a small room, and inside, Stryker waited.

He turned as they entered, a smug smile curling across his lips as if he’d been expecting them all along. His gaze flicked between Logan and Wade, his eyes gleaming with twisted amusement. “Ah, Logan,” he drawled, his voice dripping with mock warmth. “Right on time. I figured you’d come running. It’s almost… predictable.”

Logan’s fists clenched, his claws sliding out with a grinding schlikt. “Where is she?” he growled, his voice low, dangerous.

Stryker chuckled, his tone filled with cold amusement. “So protective. You know, I have to wonder—why are you so attached to this girl, Logan? Don’t tell me you actually care.”

Logan took a step forward, his gaze like steel. “Last chance, Stryker. Where. Is. She?”

Stryker held his ground, his expression unruffled. “You don’t get it, do you?” he sneered, crossing his arms. “This isn’t about her. It’s about you.” He tilted his head, studying Logan with a look of cold calculation. “Deep down, you knew exactly who she was from the moment you met her. Don’t try to deny it. Your instincts—the animal in you—knew she was the target. That’s why you found her so… intriguing.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing, his eyes locked on Stryker with a deadly intensity.

Stryker smirked, his voice dropping to a taunting whisper. “You’re just a weapon, Logan. A soldier. You may think you care about her, but let’s be honest—you’re only here because she was the job. It’s what you’re made for.”

The words twisted something inside Logan, old wounds reopening under Stryker’s taunts. But he forced himself to keep breathing, to keep control. Stryker was baiting him, trying to push him over the edge.

“Don’t pretend you’re anything more than the animal you are,” Stryker continued, his tone cold, dismissive. “She’s just a loose end, and you—well, you’re just the fool who thought he could be more.”

Logan’s vision went red. He surged forward, slamming Stryker against the wall, his claws hovering just inches from Stryker’s throat. “You don’t know a damn thing about me,” he snarled, his voice shaking with barely restrained rage.

Stryker laughed, even as Logan’s claws pressed dangerously close. “Go on, then. Prove me right. Kill me. Show me you’re exactly what I made you.”

For a moment, Logan’s grip tightened, his muscles coiled, every instinct screaming for him to end this, to make Stryker pay for every life he’d ruined. But then, from the corner of his eye, he saw Wade step forward.

“Logan,” Wade said quietly, his voice surprisingly calm. “He’s not worth it.”

Logan hesitated, the haze of rage clearing just enough for him to hear Wade’s words. Before he could react, Wade stepped forward, swinging the butt of his gun into Stryker’s temple. Stryker crumpled to the ground, unconscious, his mocking smile finally silenced.

Wade glanced at Logan, giving him a knowing look. “You don’t need to dirty your claws on him. Go find her.”

Logan took a steadying breath, his hands still trembling, his heart still pounding with fury. He forced himself to pull back, his gaze shifting away from Stryker and toward the door at the end of the hallway. He could feel her presence somewhere beyond it, faint but steady like a beacon pulling him forward.

“Go,” Wade repeated, nodding toward the door. “I’ll make sure this asshole doesn’t get back up.”

Logan nodded, giving Wade a look of gratitude. Without another glance at Stryker, he turned and strode down the hallway, his steps quickening as he neared the door. He pushed it open, his every sense alert, his every instinct focused on one thing: finding her, getting her out, and putting an end to this nightmare.

As he moved deeper into the facility, the walls seemed to close in around him, the smell of metal and cold concrete sharp in the air. But he didn’t stop. He could feel her, close now, her heartbeat faint but steady, guiding him through the darkness.

He reached the final door and Logan knew one thing for certain: he wouldn’t leave this island without her.

Logan pushed open the door and slipped inside, his movements fluid and silent. The room was dim, lit by a single harsh light overhead, casting long shadows across the cold concrete floor. There, tied to a chair in the center of the room, was her—face bruised, her wrists bound, her gaze defiant despite the fear lingering in her eyes.

Victor stood beside her, one hand gripping her shoulder, his claws extended just enough to graze her skin. He was watching her with a twisted, mocking smile, completely oblivious to Logan’s presence.

Logan’s chest heaved, the sight of her—wounded, terrified, but still holding her ground—igniting something fierce and uncontrollable inside him.

Victor chuckled, still oblivious, his voice dripping with disdain. “You thought you could get away, didn’t you? Thought someone was gonna save you?” He leaned in closer, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. “I hope he gets here in time, sweetheart.”

Logan took a single, slow step forward, his voice a low, menacing growl that filled the room. “Let her go.”

Victor froze, his body going tense before he slowly turned to face Logan. His eyes narrowed, a flicker of surprise quickly replaced by that familiar, twisted grin. “There you are, little brother. Took you long enough.”

Logan’s claws slid out with a grinding schlikt, the sound sharp in the stillness. “You wanted me here. Well, here I am.”

Victor laughed, a cold, mocking sound. “You know, you’re just proving my point, Logan. She’s made you weak. Look at you, risking everything for this pathetic little journalist.”

Logan’s gaze flickered to her for a moment, her eyes meeting his, wide and filled with relief. He felt the fury simmering inside him sharpen, and solidify. “Call it whatever you want. I’m done talking.”

Victor’s smirk faded, replaced with a cold, calculating look. “Oh, little brother,” he said, releasing her and stepping forward, flexing his own claws. “But let’s be honest—you’re not gonna win this fight.”

For a split second, something flickered in Victor’s expression, something almost… conflicted. It was as if he was wrestling with a thought, a shadow of doubt crossing his face before his jaw tightened, and the hardness returned to his eyes.

Victor glanced back at her, and for a moment, Logan thought he might waver, might change his mind. But then Victor’s face twisted into a sneer, and he shook his head. “No,” he muttered. “I don’t leave loose ends. Not for anyone.”

With that, he lunged.

They clashed in a blur of movement, claws flashing, each strike more vicious than the last. Logan’s world narrowed to the raw, brutal fight in front of him, the air filled with the sound of claws slicing through flesh, the impact of fists and bodies against concrete. Victor fought with a brutal edge, his strikes fueled by years of resentment, rivalry, of a twisted sense of superiority.

Logan had something Victor didn’t—a reason to fight beyond pride. He had someone to protect, someone whose life mattered more than his own. That gave him strength, an unbreakable resolve that kept him going even when the pain threatened to pull him under.

At some point during the fight, he caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye. She was watching, her gaze locked on him, her lips parted in a silent plea. It was all he needed.

With a roar, Logan tackled Victor to the ground, pinning him with one knee against his chest, his claws poised at Victor’s throat. “You’re done,” Logan growled, his voice filled with a quiet, deadly finality. “You’re done trying to control my life.”

Victor sneered up at him, defiant even in defeat. “You really think this changes anything? Stryker will come for her. And when he does, you won’t be there to protect her.”

Logan pressed his claws just a little closer, his voice a low, furious whisper. “Then he’ll get the same welcome you did.”

Victor’s eyes flashed with fear or the faintest glimmer of respect—but before he could respond, Logan brought his fist down, slamming Victor’s head against the concrete. Victor’s body went slack, unconscious, and Logan wasted no time turning back to her.

She was still in the chair, her hands bound, her face pale but determined. He crossed the room in two quick strides, his hands already working on the ropes around her wrists.

“Are you okay?” he murmured, his voice low, almost gentle.

She nodded, her gaze steady as she looked up at him. “I am now.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, relief flooding through him. He reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Just then, footsteps echoed down the hall, followed by a familiar voice. Wade slipped into the room, grinning as he wiped blood from his knuckles. “Stryker’s not gonna be a problem. Let’s just say he and I had a little… conversation.”

Logan nodded, his hand slipping into hers as he helped her to her feet. “Good. Then let’s get off this damn island.”

They moved quickly, with Wade leading the way back through the facility, every step taking them further from the nightmare they’d escaped. As they reached the edge of the island, the boat waiting for them on the shore, Logan held her close, his hand never leaving hers.

This time, he promised himself, he’d keep her safe—for good.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

The sun was just starting to dip below the horizon, casting a warm, golden light across the little cabin nestled at the edge of the forest. Birds chattered in the trees, and the steady murmur of a nearby creek filled the air with a peaceful hum. It was a quiet spot, secluded and off the grid, miles away from the life they’d left behind. And that was exactly how Logan liked it.

Inside the cabin, Logan was standing at the kitchen counter, brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to peel potatoes with a knife far too sharp for the job. His large hands weren’t exactly suited to delicate work, and he muttered under his breath as the potato slipped from his grip for the third time.

She leaned against the doorway, watching him with a soft smile tugging at her lips. It had been months since they’d escaped Stryker’s grasp, since that night on the island, and she still wasn’t used to seeing Logan like this—shirt sleeves rolled up, hair slightly damp from a shower, wrestling with a kitchen task like he was facing down an enemy.

“Need some help, chef?” she teased, crossing the room and taking the knife from him before he could protest.

He grunted, folding his arms and pretending to look annoyed, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “You think you can do better?” he asked, arching a skeptical eyebrow.

She rolled her eyes, deftly peeling the potato with a few smooth strokes. “I’m just saying, I’m trying to avoid a trip to the hospital. With the way you were holding that knife, I’d have to stitch you up by dinnertime.”

He let out a low chuckle, watching her with a look that was almost… awestruck. Sometimes he still couldn’t believe she was here, in this cabin they’d built together, her laughter filling the air, her hands moving with easy familiarity in their shared kitchen.

She finished peeling the potato and handed it to him with a little flourish, meeting his gaze with a mischievous smile. “There. Now maybe I’ll let you handle the boiling part. Think you can manage that?”

Logan rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t keep the grin off his face. “Keep talkin’, and I might just make you do all the work tonight.”

“Is that supposed to scare me?” she shot back, raising an eyebrow. 

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low rumble. “Fine. I’ll let you cook… if you can keep that smart mouth of yours quiet for five minutes.”

She laughed, the sound filling the cabin, and Logan felt something settle in his chest, a quiet contentment he hadn’t known he could feel. She nudged him with her elbow and turned back to the counter, slicing the potatoes with practiced ease, her hair falling softly over her shoulder.

Logan watched her, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed, a faint smile tugging at his lips. He’d never thought he could have this—a life so normal, so simple, filled with nothing but quiet, ordinary moments. It was strange, the way he felt more himself here, peeling potatoes and teasing her over burnt toast, than he ever had in all the years he’d spent fighting, running, surviving.

He reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from her face. She looked up, surprised by the softness in his gaze.

“What?”

He shook his head, his thumb lingering on her cheek for a moment longer than necessary. “Nothing. Just… I’m glad you’re here.” His voice was low, almost rough, like he wasn’t used to saying things like this out loud.

Her face softened, her hand coming up to rest over his, her fingers warm and gentle. “Me too,” she said quietly, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

They stood there for a moment, her hand resting on his, the world around them fading into a warm, comfortable silence. Then, with a little smirk, she nudged his hand away and turned back to the potatoes.

“Now,” she said, a glint of mischief in her eyes, “unless you’re planning on staring at me all evening, maybe you could make yourself useful and grab the salt.”

Logan huffed, grumbling under his breath, but he moved to grab the salt shaker from the cupboard, fighting the smile that kept creeping onto his face. He handed it to her, and she gave him a playful wink, her fingers brushing his as she took it.

They worked side by side in the kitchen, moving around each other with a practiced ease, like they’d been doing this for years. Now and then, their hands would brush, or she’d catch him watching her out of the corner of his eye, and he’d look away, a faint flush coloring his cheeks.

Later, as they sat down at the little table by the window, the last light of the sunset spilling across the room, she reached across the table and took his hand, lacing her fingers through his. Logan looked down at their joined hands, feeling that familiar warmth spread through his chest, a quiet happiness he still wasn’t used to.

She caught his eye, smiling softly, a playful spark in her gaze. “Logan… I love you, but you’ve gotta stop staring at me like that. You’re making me blush.”

Logan shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips, his thumb gently brushing over her knuckles as if memorizing the feel of her hand in his. “Can’t help it,” he murmured, his voice rough, almost hesitant. “I keep thinking… this is all a dream. Like I’m gonna wake up, and you’ll be gone, and I’ll be right back where I started.”

His gaze drifted around the room, taking in the little touches she’d added—a vase of wildflowers on the windowsill, her favorite books stacked messily on the coffee table, a soft throw blanket draped over the back of the couch. The cabin felt like a home now, filled with reminders of her presence, grounding him in a way he hadn’t realized he needed.

She squeezed his hand, her fingers steady and warm. “Logan,” she whispered, her voice gentle but firm. “I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to worry about that.”

He looked back at her, his expression softening as he let her words sink in. “You promise?”

She smiled, a warmth in her eyes that made his heart feel like it might break, just from the sheer vulnerability of it all. “I promise,” she said, lifting their joined hands to press a kiss to his knuckles. “I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me, like it or not.”

A quiet laugh escaped him, and he felt some of the tension he’d been holding finally release. “Good,” he said, his voice thick, barely more than a whisper. “Because I don’t think I’d know what to do without you now.”

She tilted her head, studying him with that soft, patient look that always seemed to cut right through his defenses. “You don’t have to worry, Logan.”

He didn’t respond right away, just nodded, letting her words settle over him like a blanket, warm and reassuring. It was such a simple promise, but it held a weight he hadn’t known he needed. She was here, with him, and for the first time, he actually believed she would be—today, tomorrow, as long as he could hold onto her.

After a long moment, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze, a slow smile breaking across his face. “All right, then,” he said, voice low and steady. “Guess I’d better get used to it.”

She grinned, leaning over the table to press a quick kiss to his lips, her laughter filling the room like sunlight. “Guess you’d better,” she teased, brushing a hand through his hair as she settled back in her chair.

Bonus Scene

Inside, the cabin was cozy and warm, the smell of coffee lingering in the air. Logan sat at the small kitchen table, a newspaper spread out in front of him, though he wasn’t reading it. His eyes kept drifting over to her, watching as she moved around the kitchen, humming softly to herself. She was cooking breakfast—eggs sizzling in the pan, a pot of tea steeping on the counter. It was a simple morning, ordinary in every way, and that was what made it so perfect.

Logan leaned back, a rare, soft smile tugging at his lips. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt at peace.

Then, a loud, obnoxious honk shattered the quiet, followed by the crunch of tires on gravel.

Logan’s eyes narrowed, and she raised an eyebrow, sharing a knowing look with him. Only one person would make that kind of entrance in the middle of nowhere.

“Great,” Logan muttered, pushing himself up from the table. “Just when things were getting quiet.”

He opened the cabin door, stepping outside just as a beat-up old pickup truck pulled up, kicking up a cloud of dust. Wade grinned from the driver’s seat, his sunglasses crooked, his arm slung casually out the window. He looked as out of place in the peaceful setting as a wolf in a field of lambs.

“Logan!” Wade called, climbing out of the truck and stretching his arms overhead like he’d just driven across the country. “Nice little place you got here. Very… rustic.” He looked around, taking in the trees and the clear blue sky. “I see you’ve gone full mountain man.”

Logan folded his arms, fighting the urge to smile. “What are you doing here, Wade?”

Wade shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eye. “What, a guy can’t visit his favorite grumpy Canadian in the middle of nowhere? I was in the neighborhood.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “The nearest town is fifty miles away.”

Wade shrugged, unapologetic. “Yeah, well, I heard there was good coffee around here. And maybe I missed the two of you. But don’t go getting all sentimental on me. It’s just a temporary lapse.”

She appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on a dishtowel and smiling despite herself. “Hi, Wade. You hungry?”

Wade’s face lit up, his gaze flicking from her to the warm, inviting cabin. “I knew I liked you for a reason,” he said, grinning. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Eggs and toast,” she said, gesturing for him to come inside. “Logan’s been chopping enough firewood to heat the whole forest, so I think we’ll be warm enough.”

“Don’t let him fool you,” Wade said as he stepped inside, glancing around the cozy cabin with a touch of surprise. “This guy’s a softie at heart. First, it’s firewood and breakfast in bed. Next thing you know, he’s knitting sweaters and taking up bird-watching.”

Logan rolled his eyes, but there was no real bite to it. He shut the door behind them, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall, watching Wade settle in as if he belonged there. Despite the sarcasm and theatrics, Logan could see it in Wade’s eyes—the genuine relief that they were all still standing, that the worst was behind them.

“So,” Wade said, taking a seat at the table and eyeing the spread of food appreciatively. “How’s life in the woods treating you two? Getting used to all this fresh air?”

She chuckled, pouring coffee into a mug and setting it in front of him. “It’s… peaceful,” she said, glancing at Logan with a soft smile. “Exactly what we needed.”

Wade’s expression softened for a moment, his usual sarcasm slipping away. “Yeah, I bet. You two deserve it. God knows you’ve been through enough.”

There was a moment of comfortable silence as they sat around the table, eating breakfast and enjoying the warmth of the cabin. Wade filled them in on the latest gossip from town, spinning tales of bar fights and questionable characters that made her laugh, and even Logan couldn’t hide a smirk or two. It was like a glimpse of the world they’d left behind but without any of the darkness or danger that had once haunted them.

Finally, as they finished eating, Wade leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head. “Well, this was nice. A little slice of domestic bliss.” He smirked, raising an eyebrow at Logan. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

Logan snorted, his tone dry. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t,” Wade said, but there was a glint of something softer in his eyes as he looked between them. “I’ll let you two lovebirds get back to your wilderness honeymoon.”

She laughed, rolling her eyes as she gathered the plates. “Thanks for stopping by, Wade. Really.”

He got up, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair. “Anytime. Someone’s gotta check in on you two, make sure you’re not turning into total recluses.” He paused, looking at Logan with a hint of something unspoken. “Take care of each other, yeah?”

Logan gave a curt nod, but his expression softened, and he clasped Wade’s shoulder, a rare show of gratitude. “You know we will.”

Wade grinned, pulling his sunglasses down over his eyes. “Good. And hey, don’t be strangers. You know where to find me.”

With one last nod, Wade stepped out of the cabin, heading back to his truck. They watched as he climbed inside, giving a quick wave before driving off, leaving a trail of dust in his wake.

As the truck disappeared down the dirt road, she turned to Logan, slipping her hand into his. They stood together in the doorway, watching the dust settle, feeling the quiet of the woods close in around them once more.

Logan looked down at her, his thumb tracing small circles on the back of her hand. “Guess we’re really out here now,” he murmured, a hint of wonder in his voice.

She smiled, leaning into him, her gaze soft. “Yeah. Just us.”

[itsmorpheusho]

tw: war,politics

hey yall. watch the matrix if you doubt shit. it's not real DUH, but my bro morpheus got some good advice. and don't listen to the red piller ignorant repubs. they don't know they're on the blue, they think they're woke, but they call us that and are just projecting how they're not. everything's a code. shifting is a formula and to do it, its pretty much belief + yourself = shift. rage against the machine be real asf- wake up. trippy shit, but seriously, some of these fictional dystopian realities, are actually damn near non fiction. not totally, because it's fiction, but it's not to far off. if it's hard? simplify it. nothing is hard. it's just your perception of it. apply murphy's law = if it can happen, it will. we all know for a fact shifting is real and you CAN do it, so therefore you will. if you reverse murphy's law, and think you can't, then damn straight- you can't shift. but if you believe you can? you will dumb ass. law means law. it might take your time to reprogram your mind with all of the bullshit limits SOCIETYAHUAHFU/j has put on you, but let's be so fr. we are so conditioned to be nihilist. i woke up from that. now im persuing being a fucking engineer as a WOMAN and im joining the military that's been a dream of mine. though there are war threats, i know, i'm not stopping myself from denying myself of my dreams and im going to make something out of myself here. i have finally come to terms with this shit cr. i just said fuck it and i raised my gpa hell, changed my major and i am getting out of my abusive household. they said i couldn't but i can. they made me think school was stupid. but i realized who i was, am- a pretentious smartass nerd who was just insecure about it, i didn't try. i dug myself into a hole because i wanted to be a cool art major, when i am a fucking logician. i was drowning but i got out. if i can realize that? i can shift bro. i can enter the void bro. im getting out before fuck ass trump becomes president so i can persue being a badass engineer nasa bitch in my home reality without the constant threat of war nagging at my back. because it's like we are in the fucking interstellar film, our world is going to shit. so? im leaving. so i can be financially free, have my Ph.D. already. i also made myself a Yale graduate there because I could have done it here, but I fucked up my grades because i listened to those who said i couldn't, because I'm a woman, it's too hard, and I didn't try. now i will never stop trying. the spiraling doom of donald j for joke trump and war with my job won't stop me either. my country is headed into shit and im not gonna see it, the worse it gets on the news the closer i get to waking up home. FUCK THAT, i have already entered the void and I am home. fuck the red pillers. they are the blue pillers. im not staying in a reality where they send me off to who knows where to fight for who knows who when I just want to be a pilot, work for nasa or something, make my grandpa proud that i finally joined the navy. in my reality my service is done, im loved and feel free. no more war. in 2025 lets gtfo. watch the matrix, blade runner, interstellar, whatever to motivate yourself. they all realized they had it in them all along. the red pillers? the dumb ass repubs? they're calling themselves that because they are quite simply projecting, because they know they are NOT that. they are the people turning my country to shit. idc if they call me woke. im leaving either way. im not giving up either. you either are or you aren't, you believe or you don't, sure its getting me a minute to wake up from my nihilist ass ways, my logical ass formula reliant ass brain: but if you are like me and you dread the future here- stop. your shifting tonight, which equals you wont be here. everything is math. so why do you care? stop worrying. murphys law. you can shift. you can enter the void. so you WILL. say goodbye, because you are already gone. think of shifting, understand it and turn it into a formula you can understand. make it easy for yourself. dumbass.

[sashi-ya]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤAs cold as your heart ･:*:｡𓏲ּ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤDr. ishida uryu x f! reader

Chapter 3: misunderstandings. for rainbows to form, you always need the rain first.

❄ a/n: told you it was going to be fast! my, my... what is going on with this story?! why is everything getting more and more complicated?! well, for rainbows to form, you always need the rain first... right? ❄ tw: not much, VERY angsty for now. A little TOO indulgent? maybe... I always wanted reader to get involved with Ryuken, yet not in the way you might think... or yes? mh!. fainting. bloody knees. headache. ❄ headcanon alert 1➡ given the fact that we've seen Uryu fainting and running fevers many times, I headcanon him to be a guy who somatises a lot. So I think it fits since he is fighting against his own emotions during the story. ❄ headcanon alert 2 ➡ since we know Ryuken has 0 skills to communicate the love for his child, there are some little additions about him when Uryu was a kid that might melt your heart 💖 ❄ masterlist.

“Dr. Ishida, I’m sorry I don’t want to take time from you… it’s late, I – I should go back home, I can walk” you sniffle once he stops at a red light. 

Ryuken looks at you, probably confirming you are just as silly as his son. “You think I’ll leave you outside, with the snow, at night, after my son broke your heart and with your knees bleeding?” he asks, seriously, implying you aren’t allowed to decide what to do either way.

You simply nod; once in a while, you might want to let the elder take care of you. However, the fact that he isn’t driving to your home nor back to the hospital makes you wonder, exactly, what he is planning to do.

“Uh… Dr. Ishida, where are we going?” you ask, probably already knowing.

“Home” he answers back, straight to the point. 

“But – your son…” you reply, worried. Uryu just rejected you in such way, the least you would like to do is to go bother him at his own house. 

“My son? He isn’t coming back now, that’s a fact”

The Ishida house -manor- awaits with tiny little lights garnishing its windows. You remember the place to be darker and less lively, imbued in seriousness and sterile looks. Probably, Ryuken felt the need to decorate his home now that Uryu is back and that melts your heart. 

The huge fence at the front opens to let Dr. Ishida drive inside. You remain silent, the crying hasn’t stopped just yet, but you calmed yourself enough to keep your composure. 

A woman dressed in black and white opens the door, taking a swift look at your state. Probably, she wonders why you are there and why is the man of the house helping you enter. Domestic service will have a field day with every type of rumor.

Ryuken takes your already wet coat off, and commands for you to wait on a white sofa. You hesitate but sit carefully to avoid your knees even coming closer to it… you don’t want to leave blood marks on a probably very expensive settee. 

Soon, he comes back with a little box in his hands. A first aid kit to treat your wounds and a pair of gloves hanging from it. 

He has taken his coat off, and it might be the first time in all these years you see this man only wearing his shirt rolled up with no tie. 

You swallow; never once you’ve noticed how much Uryu and him look alike until now. No matter how different their hair colour can be, Ryuken has given his son delicious genes…  

“Let me see” he mutters, kneeling in front of you to inspect your bloody legs. 

You blink slowly, shaking your head side to side. How could you go from painful to indecent thoughts in a matter of seconds? 

“Mh, take your stockings off please” he orders. He couldn’t cure your knees on top of that nylon material even if he wanted to. 

You nod, standing up, full of shame. Cheeks on fire, trembling hands. He wants you to take your tights in front of him? while kneeling down? Apparently, yes. 

You try to lower them down without lifting the skirt of your uniform, though it becomes almost impossible. However, you do it quickly with his help; Ryuken pulls down your stockings exposing your right thigh a little too much…

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ“RYUKEN??!!! (NAME)????!!!” ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ“Uryu calm down… I am just cur-” 

You couldn’t believe how things were unfolding right in front of your eyes. Uryu’s orbs went from miserable to enraged. His father? You? What is happening right now?

You flop back into the couch as everything begins spinning around in circles. Your heart is about to pop from your chest, going faster with every second it passes. 

The Quincy cross around Uryu’s wrist peaks through his coat, falling down ready to become his arch. 

“Son, you are a fool” Ryuken repeats, standing up. His glasses showing the blueish shine of his only child’s weapon pointed at him. 

“A fool you say? You are, indeed, right… Ryuken! From all the women, from all the-“

You have no idea how, nor when, but you run to hug Uryu as tight as it is humanly possible. Strands of your hair get cut by the reiishi coming to his arrow, the sound of it buzzing on your eardrums. 

“How could you think of your father this way? How could you think of me this way?” you ask, crying against his neck. “How could you…”

The Quincy archer’s hands tremble, becoming weaker and weaker until his arch turns back into his cross. His breathing begins to slow down, so much until you notice he might have stopped breathing. 

His weight becomes more and more noticeable in your arms, until it’s undeniable that he can’t stand up on his own. 

“Uryu? Uryu…?!” you panic, trying to hold his body up. 

“Ah… he hasn’t changed…” Ryuken sighs, coming to your help. His son has fainted, and it isn’t new. Uryu usually does when he can’t manage certain things. 

With utmost care, his father takes him to his bed. He deposits him there, as he used to do when Uryu was a child. 

“Y’know, this little shit… when he fell asleep he thought only his mom would carry him to his bed… but it was me. Every time he fell asleep anywhere but his bed, it was me who carried him in my arms… they grow but they never change” Ryuken says, almost in pain, while standing right on the bedroom door.  “Stay for as long as you wish, I’ll tell the domestic service to prepare the guest room in case you want to rest” 

You give him a sweet smile and a nod, still a little embarrassed for what had just happened. You watch this man go, while you remain sitting on Uryu’s bed, right next to him. 

You slowly take his glasses off, in such a way not even a feather could be that delicate. And in the same way, you move his onyx hair off his face. 

Uryu’s skin feels as soft as a cloud; the tip of your finger barely touches his cheek in a loving little caress. Perhaps guilty, you let your eyes feast on his unconscious façade. Perhaps this will be the last time you do. Perhaps he will hate you tomorrow and will let you know about it. 

“Move out of the way”  his words replay one too many times on your memories; it breaks your heart; it makes your whole body hurt. You should be the one mad at him, six years have passed and not a single time he dared to talk, to look, to even explain to you.. why did you leave me? 

And, despite him leaving you, mistreating you and now even thinking of you in such a despicable way, you stay by his side. 

Slowly, minutes pass, and he still doesn’t want to wake up. You know he is fine; he is just purposely deciding not to open his eyes. He did this when he was young, he did this many, many times. 

“I miss you… I have never stopped loving you” you whisper, bending to kiss his forehead. But you stop yourself; with lips in pain screaming to touch his skin, you simply couldn’t do it. 

And so, as the night progresses, your eyes slowly close… tired, hurt, in pain… your eyes finally shut off. 

Almost like in slow motion, your body slides down until you flop on the side of his bed. 

The little shake of your weight against the mattress wakes Uryu up. Such slumber finally eases off when he sees you sleeping on his side. A mix of pain and rage travels through his veins, what he saw still makes no sense to him. 

However, his body feels sore. His soul, even more. He isn’t able to move a little further from where he is. Uryu doesn’t want to wake you up, because if he did, he must put on that same act and kick you out from his own bed… he doesn’t really want you to go; deep inside, having you by his side is all he’s been wanting to do since the day he left. 

His eyes, opened like lonely stars illuminating a dark night, try to remove themselves from your sleeping you. He fails, miserably. Your beauty, your skin, every bump on your face, the scent of your flesh. It feels warm, so warm to be close to you… 

“So, this is how it feels to sleep right by your side?” he whispers, stopping his hand from touching the concavity of your waist as you lay on your side. “I wonder how it feels to hug… to touch all your skin” he continues, this time only in mind. “I wonder how it feels…” 

He had only kissed your lips, in a chaste, innocent peck. The first and the last, a pending love he hasn’t ever forgotten about. Now, as an adult, and after trying so many times with failed relationships that couldn’t even be named as such, his skin still burns for you. Just like the first time, just like what he considers the last. 

A sting on Uryu’s temple makes his eyes shut close; a headache he rarely had, now is more and more frequent… he feels like throwing up, a little dizzy and what not. A pain on his stomach follows, sharp, almost like leaving him with no air. 

“I should sleep a little more…” 

The sun shines through winter clouds of cold; snow has pooled on the streets and slowly begins to melt. Morning arrived a little too fast for both of you, given the fact that probably none of you wanted to wake up to face reality. 

“(Name)…” a whispering voice wakes you up. 

“Hmn?” you murmur, turning around, hugging something that feels warm.

“(Name)”

You wake up suddenly, realizing Uryu’s arm lays tangled in yours. His flesh feels like burning; He still sleeps, soundly -a little snoring here and there- and an expression of something bothering him. Maybe it is just the pain of his heart… You try to slide off his side to see the owner of the voice that’s been calling you up. 

“Dr. Ishida!” you whisper, standing up, stiffening all your muscles. Your waist feels sore, sleeping in such uncomfortable position probably has to do with it. 

“I’m having breakfast and heading to the hospital, are you coming?” Uryu’s father asks, he is, after all, your boss. As his assistant nurse, you are used to working with him… yet Uryu, doesn’t know about it just yet. 

“Are you sure, Doctor? Please don’t bother I-“ embarrassed, you try to brush the mess on your hair as well as the heavily wrinkled uniform. 

“Mh, let’s go. Don’t worry about him, he is probably sleeping all day… he used to do that while he was a kid. Also, when we get to my office, let’s check those knees. You hit hard against the ground” he continues, leaving the room with you following him. 

By now Uryu has already woken up, yet, his eyes remained closed on purpose. Listening to his father talk with you about him, about his day and especially letting him know you work with him every day aggravates his headache. 

He turns around, sinking his head into the pillow that has a faint scent of your perfume. Betrayed! Why has his father never told him you worked with him? What was the point of hiding such important information from him? 

ㅤ“He is doing it again… he is hiding stuff from me, once again… are they…?”

Never once did he feel betrayed like he feels right now. So much he did, that he began thinking this must be some kind of karma for what he did back during Yhwach’s evil plan. 

Uryu fights to remain calm and mature when facing both of you having breakfast; he wants to stand up from bed but feels so dizzy he can’t lift his head up from the pillow. Soon he notices sweat covering his neck and chest, but sadness has invaded him to really give a damn about his health anyway.  

“Dr. Ishida, is Uryu going to be ok? He seemed paler than ever, and how he fainted… I know this happened many times before when he was younger but… I don’t know…” you mumble, fidgeting on Ryuuken’s car seat. You are worried but still a little hurt by his words.  

“He is going to be fine, this is just the way he deals with stress, remember my son is a doctor. If he knows something is wrong, he will for sure tell me” Ryuuken informs you. 

“So, he graduated then… I’m so proud of him, is he a surgeon like you?” you ask, genuinely smiling. 

“A pediatrician” he answers back. “And I hope to have him with us very soon” 

You bite your nails, if Uryu wants you out of his sight he is probably not working with his father for sure. You soon realize you might be interfering a little too much in between them and the last thing you wish for is to make their relationship worse. 

You remain silent after that and up until you both arrive at the hospital. Once again, the receptionist and basically half the staff whisper while you pass through corridors and halls. For the very first time, now that you don’t want Uryu to misunderstand your relationship with Ryuken, you realize what the whispers are about. 

After having your knees checked, and even if they hurt a little, both get to work almost immediately. A couple of surgeries after, the phone of Ryuken’s office rings. 

You watch the white-haired man pick up and with that, his face transforming…

“Bring my son immediately to the sixth floor!” he screams at someone through the phone. He stands up and orders you to get ready for surgery…

 ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ“(Name), get ready. OR number 2. Now!” 

[To be continued]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

[tab00-1nce51]

Teacher and student. (Story). Part 1

Melisa Mendiny - teacher 

This is a story about a lovely school teacher Melisa, 27 years old. And the student boy Vlad is 16 years old.

It all started with the fact that Melisa, having finished her classes, went out into the corridor. I saw that her student boy Vlad was sitting in the corridor. Sitting and sad alone near her office.

Melisa approached him and asked. 

Melisa : - What's the matter, why are you sitting and feeling sad here alone.

Vlad : - I have no friends. Not at all. 

Melisa felt sorry for him. And she began to spend time with him every day after class.

They talked, walked around the school, stayed together until late at school. Vlad helped Melisa with her work. She was pleased that she was no longer as sad as before.

In her heart, Melisa wanted to help this boy, and something else attracted her to him. What it was, she could not explain. 

After some time, they met in the city. Melisa saw Vlad alone in the park and went up to him.

Melisa : - Hello. How are you? I see you are alone again.

Vlad : - Yes. I decided to take a walk in the park.

Melisa : - Any plans for today?

Vlad : - There are no plans teacher, I'm completely free.

Melisa : - Then I invite you to my place for tea. What do you say?

Vlad: - Truth?

Melisa : - Truth.) Well, what are we going?

Vlad : - Oh sure. I am pleased to Miss Mendiny.

Coming home. They talked a lot, watched movies. And at the end when the love scene of the film ended. Vlad, in a fit of emotion, confessed his love to Melisa. 

And kissed her.

Soft and warm lips.

Melisa smiled and said.

Melisa : - Honey, it's time for you to go home, it's getting late.

 Hearing nothing in response, Vlad decided that he had done something wrong. Silently he got up and went to the door.

But already on the threshold, Melissa ran up to him. And a whisper in your ear.

Melisa : - I really like you.

 And kissed him.

Vlad, inspired, ran home. Not noticing anything around you. He was in love.

Unbeknownst to themselves, this relationship grew into something more. Meliss understood that this should not be allowed. But she couldn't help it.

Later.. 

Vlad had a hobby, he liked to take pictures. And Melisa, earlier in her youth, posed for magazines. She worked as a model.

Melisa asked him

Melisa :- What do you like to photograph?

Vlad : - Well, a little bit of everything. Nature, sunsets, sea, cars. But to be honest. My most cherished dream was to photograph girls. The girls are so beautiful, their facial features and body shapes are mesmerizing. This is my dream.

Vlad : - But they are not friends with me, so I did not have such an opportunity.

Melisa : - Would you like take a picture of me? I would love to pose for you.

Vlad : - You? Are you seriously? I would gladly be, teacher. It's so cool.

Melisa : - I have a basement at home, it is spacious and bright. It's perfect for this. We could try there. What do you say? 

Vlad : - I'm happy to miss Mendiny. Have you posed before?

Melisa : - When I was 19 I worked as a model for a magazine. So I can help you with that.

Vlad : - Cool. Thank you. And when will we start.

Melisa : - Let's go tomorrow night after school. Come see me at seven.

Vlad : - Good. I will definitely be.

Next Day

Vlad arrived at the appointed time. Melisa rang the doorbell and opened it for him. She was wearing a beautiful beige dress with a sheer top. Her breasts were slightly covered with an interesting pattern.

Melisa : - Hi baby. Come on, I've been waiting for you. How did you get there? 

Vlad : - Ok, thank you. You look wonderful.

Melisa : - Thanks, darling. You know, let's do our photoset here today. I'm so eager to start.

Vlad : - Me too. Let's start. Stand next to the sofa. 

Melisa : - Like this ? 

Vlad : - Yes. Excellent.

Vlad : - It's such a thrill. Thank you teacher. You have fulfilled my dream.💗

Melisa : - Do not thank me. It gives me pleasure too.

Vlad : - Wow. You so beautiful.. Um. And your... Your shoulder strap has fallen off.

Melisa : - Oh sorry, I didn't notice. 

Melisa : - Tell me Vlad, how do you like it better when it is lowered or when it is in place?💗

Vlad : - Wow. To me? Em. When she's down.👀

Melisa : - Then I'll leave it as it is.💗

Vlad : - I'm sorry teacher, but I can't help but tell you this. You are so sexy now.

Melisa : - Oh dear thank you dear. Maybe you want see something more?

Vlad : - More?

Melisa : - Yeah... Like... Nude? 

Vlad : - OMG... 👀😍

End of part 1

To be continued.... 

[hiswrlds]

Ok so I needed to write this out at some point & with how the rpc is growing I need to specify some things about my portrayal, I was hoping I wouldn't need to do this cuz I'm really bad at explaining themes & stuff but it'd help anyone new get a vibe of things instead of just hoping they'd get it from checking out my blog ( my bad for that ), so here goes vibes & how it affects interactions . tw : l o n g & subjective to updates !

My writing for Sonic adopts years as silent killers, it focuses on passage of time as I hc the events of the games to have spanned over 8-10 years, with Sonic being 24 in his main current verse here . My writing also takes Everything seriously . And I tend to rewrite half the canon events in my head in a way that suits me ( & you, ultimately ) . "Forces" specifically is very important to my portrayal, as Sonic survives his 6 months of hell w/ Eggman & Infinite, just not unaltered . And then there is the whole war . Though reserved, warm & compassionate as he could ever be, Sonic's grown from a careless punk of a teenager into a refined, mellow adventurer who's much more genuine & wise about life how he handles a lot of situations . There are parts of him that won't ever change, but that doesn't mean he just comes out continuously unaltered after every adventure he's been through . He carries stories, loneliness & a lot of bittersweet memories, and darker ones too, but it's his steadfast resolve to remain kind & composed that keeps things together .

If your muse is games canon, especially part of the main cast, then it means they've been by Sonic's side since long & witnessed just as much along the way, that's why I prefer plotting & creating dynamics on our own a lot more than sticking to whatever Sega is doing . Please don't walk into my blog expecting a blue insufferable nuisance & I mean that in a derogatory way . My writing for him does not tie to any canon material besides the ones written on my page, Sonic can & will always be a bastard but he's not childish or "annoying", he's aloof, chill & 90% of the time he's off doing fuck all in god's knows where by himself . Threads & memes that just repeat the same theme of Oh Sonic is stupid or Oh Sonic is annoying make me feel so discouraged & unmotivated to write, he's a very nuanced & interesting character to write, don't force the fandom's or sega's picture of him onto my portrayal, they've mostly forgotten how to write him by now .

Don't get me wrong, your muse is allowed to call Sonic names however they please as long as it's properly in character for them to have such a perspective, I'm not going to get mad about such things . I just don't want these characteristics to be the focus of the dynamics between our muses when there are many, many other good things we can explore .

tldr ; learn about Sonic from me and not from canon media, don't baby or nerf him ( emotionally, mentally ), plot with me, form something special, I'm holding your hand .

[coffin-flop]

i love to be silly. I don't have it in my heart to be serious all the time. Or even most of the time. If this is my only life, I will spend it laughing.

[sonknuxadow]

it just hit me that the movie is coming out next month imgonna throw upppppppp

[james-spooky]

this is a test

[moonchild-in-blue]

Just got here. Tf is happening?

[thenwethrowitonthefire]

Shout-out to everyone who survived a "fun" easter with the family

[suitov]

The anti-Komahina copypasta of all time pt 2/4

[We're still going, gays. When we left off, Hajime was contemplating his true waifu.]

16. Forced Hand holding In these few scenes Nagito gets physical with Hajime. He begins to touch Hajime's hand without permission and then gets suprised, when Hajime wants him to let go off his hand. [src]

17. "Love" Confession You all believe Nagito confessed his love to Hajime in this single scene. Now, I did my research and apparently he attempted to confess, but didn't manage to in the japanese version. Probably because he's aware of Hajime's heterosexuality+ [src]

[Video: original here. Clip is of the ending to Nagito's fifth free time event. Nagito: "Please, don't forget... From the bottom of my heart... I am truly in love with the hope that sleeps inside you."]

+or maybe he was too shy. What's even worse is that he ultilizes hope for expressing his forbidden love to a hetero guy. [src]

18.Friendship Complex Friendship Complexes frequently happen between same sex couples(mostly men). When a guy catches romantic feelings for another man can often lead to friendship complexes because the brain can sometimes lose the heterosexual nerve cell or the hetero heart cell [src]

In Nagito's case I'd say friendship Complex is not the case, because it's the decisison he made. He is a homosexual who curses men hearts. (It's my psychological analysis) [src]

19. Nagito's reason to get Chiaki executed Nagito maybe secretly despised Chiaki in the game, because she was always flirty with Hajime and Nagito got jealous, that she achieved to win Hajime's heart+ [src]

+and receives a lot more love from the others than he ever gained love from his parents. Not only did he choose Chiaki to murder him, because she's the traitor but also because of jealousy. That's why I'm saying. This guy wants to be Chiaki that bad bruh! [src]

20.Nagito bullying Hajime So are you Yaoi shippers ignoring the fact, that your favorite character bullied the MC, acting like a jerk towards Hajime after he found out he's a reverse course student and almost got him executed, by trolling around? [src]

+ Now his fanbase is going to defend him making up excuses "Noooo that's his way of showing his lovely dovely affection to his "husband". [src]

21. Questionable freetime events So we have Nagito accuse Hajime of harassing him with a present: Gag ball. It's meant to shut him the hell up for being too annyoing and he totally changes the meaning of it. It's seriously getting on my nerves how he needs to homofy everything. [src]

22. Nagito's Lying disease In chapter 3, Nagito comes down with the lying disease and acted as dramatic as I expected. He then demands Hajime to leave him alone+ [src]

I'm aware he's telling the opposite and wants Hajime to stay, but here is where the freakness starts and Hajime's disinterest and discomfort shows. Our hetero MC makes the right decision and leaves the antagonist sick at the hospital with no single soul soul left except Mikan+ [src]

who shouldn't have to feel forced to take care of scum like him. The lying disease might have been a possibility for Nagito to spend more time with his rival alone. If Hajime hadn't left the hospital, maybe it could have been the end for the poor MC+ [src]

+who would have been entirely under the influence of Nagito's homoerotic feelings. [src]

Nagito immitating Chiaki The antagonist wants to be in Chiaki's shoes sooo bad bruh. A theory of mine is that Chiaki told Nagito when they were "friends" about her crush she has on the reverse course student before. Since Hajime and him have met already (Hajime as Izuru)+ [src]

+you know, I assume that evil bastard thought of a plan to brainwash the hetero Main character with homosexual desires. [src]

24. Pregnancy Another theory of mine is, that Nagito wishes for Hajime to breed him, so they can make a baby together, but Nagito, who is male isn't able to. It's not possible for the male gender to produce babies, because they don't have an uterus. (Common knowledge) [src]

25. Official Art interpretation [src]

26. Forcing Homosexuality Both Mika and Nagito have something in common. They both force their homosexuality on the main characters, who are like 100% hetero and have their crushes on beautiful females. Both of them like to seduce/manipulate their love interests with femininity. [src]

28.Awareness/Shot through the heart. In Island Mode during Shot through the heart, we learn that Nagito gets all scared and pale of Hajime hating him, because he's aware Hajime despises him and there is no way it will ever change. [src]

[Video: original here. Clip is of Nagito's Shot through the Heart event. Hajime: (That voice just now. Is that... Is that Nagito's inner thoughts?) Nagito: "So I'm all alone with Hajime, huh… What should I talk about today…? All I want to do is… Entertain Hajime… But I guess being verbally abused by him wouldn't be so bad. Ah, but…if I say anything weirder than this… He'd probably hate me… I don't really want that… Ahh, why is this so difficult…!?" At this point, the dialogue loops and the player fast-forwards through it, stopping to shoot "Negate" at the words "hate me", causing Hajime to say his "No, that's wrong" voice clip.]

+Does this guy fr believe Hajime is going to end up liking him the way he will always love his girlfriend Chiaki. Now be for real! [src]

The End of my thread. I'd like to thank everyone who took their time to read this very long thread of mine. I hope everyone understands now how toxic the realtionship is between them and refuse to ship them NOW. If you have any questions regarding my thread. [src]

If you have any questions regarding my thread. Ask me under the comment-section. To clarify, I've worked HOURS on this thread and I better not see anyone comment. "You played the game with your eyes shut blah blah blah" [src]

One day I would love to have a conversation with the 2 creators of Danganronpa @kazkodaka and @SpikeChunsoft_e to discuss my theories and analysis with the both of them, wondering if all of them turned out to be true. Furthermore, I'd be happy for some positive feedback. [src]

So I still find a few people judge me for my thread, claiming I'm delulu. Just letting you all know, I was given a literature stipendium last year and the teacher praised me for always being detailed and factual enough, when writing essays . [src]

[This is the end of mrpoopoofart's thread. For context and completeness, I'll include a grab of his Twitter profile.]

(not satire)

I can also recommend visiting the original links to enjoy the comments and the author's replies.

But wait! There's...?

[Can it be? Seven months later, GOKUPOO IS BACK WITH PART 3???]

[townslore]

discovery of the day