#you know even when i say i moved on yeah i still dream for you

[hoshifighting]

I can’t wait for the day you decide to give us staff woozi😭🫶 Like yes give me that man ⚰️⚰️⚰️

staff!woozi

WARNINGS: suggestive, wet dream, mentions of animes.

staff!woozi who’s practically part of your nervous system, making sure your mic is hot and those earbuds don’t fry your brain mid-show. he’s always just there—like this phantom, gliding in with his little toolbox, brows furrowed in that way he thinks makes him look tough, but honestly, you’re kinda finding it cute now. he doesn’t even have to look at you anymore; just one twitch of your finger, and he knows exactly how to tune your sound to perfection.

you’re halfway through soundcheck, squinting against the stage lights that feel hot enough to cook you alive, when your left earbud goes all staticy. and before you even manage to do your little signal—a quick point down—he’s already behind you. no warning. just his voice in your ear, all low, like he’s got some big secret: “left one’s crackling again?”

you turn, one eyebrow up. “damn, woozi, you psychic now or what?”

he just huffs, pulling the earbud from your hand with this look like, duh. “you’re predictable,” he says, but there’s that ghost of a smirk, just the tiniest hint of it, which—yeah, okay, it gets to you a bit.

he’s fiddling with it, fingers so precise you swear it’s like watching magic. “you keep playing with ‘em too much. one more yank, and i’m replacing it.”

“not my fault they suck,” you mutter, grinning when he gives you that little glare, one that says i dare you to test me.

“try it again..” he mutters, his voice dry, clipped. he’s already yanked a whole mess of cables and tested every single one, but well, it’s jihoon. he’s on his perfectionist shit.

“testin’… one, two…” you go through it, all monotone, like you’re recitin’ a grocery list.

he glances up, hands fiddlin’ with some random connector piece, but he’s noddin’, brows all scrunched up like he’s concentratin’ on the meaning of life. and then, without even lookin’ at you, he says, “speak up like you’re actually performin’—not just for me.”

staff!woozi, in his worn-out, slightly-too-tight black t-shirt, earphones looped around his neck like some kinda edgy fashion statement, looks too good for your eyes.

“i am performin’,” you toss back, brows raised. “just, y’know, waitin’ for the tech crew to keep up.”

he scoffs, and finally, he looks up, an eyebrow quirked in that way he does when he’s two seconds away from roastin’ you to death. “keep up? alright, superstar, let’s get your fancy ass mic workin’ then.”

staff!woozi who's always fumbling with your clothing as he fix the mic return on your back. mumbling something about the mic feedback being all off. and with this stage clothing, the skin-tight fabric practically painted on you, there’s no space to breathe—let alone to move. so when he reaches to adjust the receiver on your back, the boy have no gentleness to tidy it up.

“how can you even breathe in these? hold still.” he sulks. his fingers brush against your skin, just under the edge of the outfit, and you swear his touch is cool, like ice, but somehow it sends this weird heat up your body. his hand skims along your back, his fingers grazing just under the fabric, feeling way more personal than it should.

“this is… really necessary?” you breathe out, tryin’ to keep your voice casual, even though your heart’s doin’ that embarrassingly loud thud-thud thing.

he doesn’t even look fazed, just gives you a quick, smug look, like he can sense your pulse trippin’ over itself. “unless you want the mic feed to sound like a dying robot… yeah, this is necessary.”

his hand lingers just a second too long on your skin before he adjusts the strap at your shoulder, his thumb grazing the edge of the outfit. you’re caught somewhere between wantin’ to annoyingly roll your eyes or “hornyly” roll your eyes.

staff!woozi who somehow, always ends up next to you on the road, no matter where you sit, and by now, you’ve kinda claimed his shoulder as your own personal pillow. he doesn’t complain—just settles in, eyes closed, arms crossed, and lets you drift off.

but today, as your head leans into that familiar spot, his voice pipes up. “y’know, there are other seats.”

you crack an eye open, only to see him smirking down at you. he’s lookin’ all pompous, like he’s finally pieced together your little routine. “it’s just… comfortable,” you mumble, shoving your face back into his shoulder, feelin’ the soft weight of his hoodie, and okay, maybe the solidness of his arm too.

he chuckles, a sound that’s too close to teasing. “oh, so i’m a human pillow now?”

“pretty much,” you mutter, pretendin’ to yawn. “it’s just… efficient.”

next thing you know, you’re both out cold, side by side, and the crew’s gotta wake you both up at the next stop. you stumble out of the van, all bleary-eyed and yawning, both of you with puffy eyes, while the rest of the team’s trying not to laugh.

staff!woozi who watches animes during his breaks. you’re sittin in the dressing room, half-done with your makeup, feeling that pre-show buzz, and there’s woozi, huddled over his phone, totally zoned out in his own world. you’ve seen him do this before—earbuds in, watchin’ his anime.

so today, curiosity gets the best of you. you wander over, leanin’ over his shoulder, catchin’ a glimpse of bright colors and characters moving around on his screeng

“you’re into this?” you ask, unable to hide the smirk as he looks up, caught.

he pulls one earbud out, glancin’ at you like he’s deciding whether or not to share his “serious” interest. then he sighs, almost reluctantly, but starts explaining the plot, his voice just a little too enthusiastic. and you’re nodding, totally faking that you get it, but he’s so damn into it, you can’t help but get a little wrapped up in his excitement.

when you’re waiting for the other idols to finish up their set, the two of you are back in the dressing room, side by side, watching some random episode. you don’t know half of what’s going on, but jihoon’s talking fast, pointing out characters, explaining every little detail like it’s life or death. you just follow it because staff!woozi is hot.

you don’t know how you ended up here, exactly— n woozi’s hotel room, in your freshest hoodie and sweats, hair still a bit damp from your after-show shower. but you’re here, a slice of pizza in one hand and woozi right next to you, already deep into the latest anime episode like he’s watching some masterpiece.

it started simple enough, you mentioning anime to him once. you barely know the basics, honestly, but your friend is an encyclopedia of every single plot twist, so you could at least fake it a little. and you’d swear woozi’s eyes practically lit up when you said you’d “totally be down to watch something with him, if he had recommendations.” it became your thing on tour—grabbing a pizza, lounging in his room, and watching the latest episodes like two kids after school.

but right now? you’re barely paying attention to the screen. woozi’s sitting next to you in this black tank top, arms looking like he’s been lifting soundboards for fun, thick enough to make your mind drift way off the anime plot. his shorts? even worse. you didn’t even realize a person could look that good just sitting down, like he’s giving you a whole show without even trying.

“are you even watching?” he mutters, catching you totally off guard. woozi raises an eyebrow at you, smirking. damn, he knew.

“oh, yeah, totally!” you stammer, nodding way too enthusiastically. “i know… exactly… what’s going on here.” but that smirk just grows, his gaze sliding back to the screen as if to say, yeah, sure you do.

staff!woozi, who hardly tears his eyes from the screen the whole night, so focused it’s like he’s analyzing every frame. you’re beside him, bundled up in his bed, head lolling as the exhaustion finally takes over, pulling you under. he glances at you every so often—at first just a quick look to make sure you’re out, catching the soft rise and fall of your breathing, the way your lashes brush your cheeks in the low light. you’d been running on fumes all night, so seeing you drift off wasn’t a surprise.

but then, he hears it—his name, whispered under your breath, soft like it’s the only thing on your mind even while you’re dreaming. his focus shifts. your back arches just the tiniest bit, your brows drawn together, thighs pressing tight like you’re holding onto some sweet secret even he isn’t supposed to know.

and suddenly, he’s more tuned into you than the screen, pulse pounding in his ears.

woozi pretends this never happened. or tries to.

staff!woozi, who’s suddenly got a whole new edge to him the next morning, acting all distant like you didn’t just watch an entire anime season in his bed last night. on the plane, you figure things’ll be back to normal—you’ve got this routine where you always end up leaning on his shoulder, especially after long nights. but today, he’s keeping a solid inch between you both, arms crossed like he’s suddenly allergic to any kind of closeness.

you try once, shifting a little closer, giving him that sleepy, half-pouty look that usually does the trick. he just leans away, adjusting his earbuds like he didn’t notice.

you huff. “yo, what’s your deal? i’m just trying to sleep, and you’re over here playing hard-to-get?”

he glances over, raising an eyebrow.

“don’t act like you’re too good for it.” you roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “you let me last night.”

“yeah, well, I’m not your pillow today. i gotta keep my neck in one piece.”

you nudge him with your elbow. “since when did you start caring about your neck, huh? you’re literally hunched over soundboards for a living.”

he shoots you a side-eye. “and maybe that’s why i need to protect it now.”

you snicker, leaning back, but there’s that stubborn pout on your face. “whatever, woozi. don’t get mad at me just ‘cause you didn’t sleep enough watching the show without me.”

you’re still leaning back, sulking a little, when you hear it — just a low mumble under his breath. “not my fault you were… moaning my name last night…”

your head snaps around so fast you practically pull a muscle. “excuse me?” you whisper, eyes wide as saucers.

he stares at you, lips parting slightly as he realizes he definitely said that louder than intended. his eyes dart away, and he’s already sinking into the seat like he might disappear.

you blink, heartbeat going wild as you piece together last night, flashes of the dream you’d had flooding back—heat and skin and his name on your lips. you remember waking up in his bed, flustered and warm, rushing back to your own room before he could see the look on your face.

“so… you heard that?”

his hand goes up to rub the back of his neck, cheeks reddening under that deadpan expression he’s clinging to. “yeah, uh… kinda hard to miss...?”

you bury your face in your hands, groaning, but you can’t resist sneaking a glance at him. he’s biting his lip, looking anywhere but at you, and you swear there’s a faint smirk he’s trying to hide.

“god, woozi, you could’ve just… i dunno, woken me up or something!” you mutter, feeling the burn creep up your cheeks.

“yeah, right,” he snorts, glancing back at you now with this smug little glint in his eyes. “like you’d want that.”

[oncasette]

𝗕𝗟𝗔𝗠𝗘 𝗜𝗧 𝗢𝗡 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗥𝗔𝗜𝗡

jj maybank x fem!reader

summary: 1.1k

Your head is spinning. You must be dreaming. There’s no way you’re actually kissing your best friend right now, not quite sure if he’s still your best friend at that moment or not, but not caring enough to pull back and check.

or the one where jj spills his feelings for his best friend.

a/n: i haven't seen s4 and i don't know if i'm going to, but here's this jj fic since i was feeling up for it? question mark? it's all fluff.

masterlist

“Done in there?” JJ calls from where he’s no doubt spread out on your bed. You can’t help the small laugh that trickles out of you as you open the door, still facing the mirror as you finish up your skincare routine. In the corner of the mirror, you catch JJ’s reflection fiddling with a lighter.

“Don’t burn down my bedroom,” you say. He looks up at you, catching your gaze in the mirror. He flips the spark wheel. A small flame erupts, already being bullied down by the high setting on your ceiling fan. 

“What? Don’t trust me?” he smirks. 

“Not even a bit,” you chirp, setting all of your creams and oils back into your medicine cabinet. 

He sets the lighter down on your nightstand. 

“Comfy?” you giggle, watching as he snuggles down further under your plush duvet. You’re glad you made him change, not sure you’d ever get the dirt and sweat from his clothes out of your sheets. He nods, humming. You feel his eyes tracking your movements as you shut the bathroom light off and slide under the covers beside him. It’s almost instantaneous that JJ molds to your side, pushing up your arm in order to lay his head against your shoulder, nose in your neck. You do your best to ignore the way your stomach flutters a bit. 

JJ had always been touchy with you. You like to think that he does it with everyone, that that was just his nature. You’d seen him sling an arm around Pope at the Boneyard, tug Kiara into a hug, spin her around, even, kiss John B on the cheek in some of his more emphatic moments. But, you couldn’t ignore the way he was with you. The lingering touches, the snuggling, the sleepovers, the kisses against your temple. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been out on the HMS without him putting his hat on you. It’s friendly enough for you to brush off, for the most part. For you to push it all down and justify his actions when the rest of the pogues prod you for information. 

It’s moments like this, though–alone, away from prying eyes–that you allow yourself to pretend. Just a little. 

You bring up a hand to his hair and run the tips of your nails across his scalp. He purrs, curling closer into you and you feel his eyelashes brush your skin as his eyes close. 

“‘S it raining?” he mumbles into you. His hand slides over your stomach as he reaches for the hand not currently in his hair. Slowly, nearly leaving goosebumps beneath his fingers, he intertwines his fingers with yours. There’s no way this is platonic. Right? Your brain screams at you. 

“What?” you hum, brushing your thumb over his knuckles. 

“Rain. From the sky. Outside.”

You look at the window.

“Yeah. Yeah, J, it’s raining.”

He smiles, kissing the skin already beneath his lips. That’s new.

“I like the rain,” he chirps, voice surprisingly drowsy for how energetic he’d been before you’d left for your shower. 

“Do you?”

He nods, humming. “Makes everything slow down a bit.”

“I didn’t think you liked slowing down,” you say, your fingers moving down from his hair to ghost over his back.

“I like slowing down when I’m with you,” he shrugs. You feel him shudder slightly when your nails gently scrape across his shoulder blades. “Plus, I look sexy when I’m all drenched like that.”

You snort and smack him on the shoulder.

“Ow! What was that for?” he scoffs, head snapping up to glare at you pitifully. 

“Smug bastard,” you laugh. He winks as his lips curl into a fittingly smug smirk.

“You love it,” he says. His hand squeezes yours, still held tight in his grasp. You don’t respond in words, instead opting to squeeze his hand back. You feel his heart rate jump against your ribs. His eyes flicker between yours. The smirk slowly drops into something a little less cocky. Something a little softer. Warmer. You watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows. It’s only when his gaze moves down to your lips that your own breath stutters. That definitely can’t be platonic. 

He whispers your name so quietly you almost don’t hear it. You probably wouldn’t have if he hadn’t been so close. 

“I think I love you,” he says. What.

“I love you, too, J,” you say, pasting on your friendliest voice to try and ignore the way his breath is now fanning over your face. He smells like the gum he’d stolen from your car.

“No, I mean…” he clamps his eyes shut. “I do love you, like that, like a friend. Of course I do, you’re my best friend-”

“John B’s your best friend,” you cut him off, because there’s no way this is actually happening.

“Listen, just… I,” he drops his head against your sternum, frustration seeming to roll off of him in waves. 

“I’m sorry, I’m listening,” you say softly. 

“I don’t want to keep doing this,” he grunts.

“Doing what?”

“Pretending.”

Pretending.

“Pretending?” you ask, placing a hand on his cheek to pull his gaze back up to yours. You smile softly at the way he nuzzles into your palm. 

“You really don’t see it, do you?” he asks. His eyes are closed, his nose pressed against your thumb. “I thought I was being obvious.”

You need more than these clipped comments. Stupidly, something deeper in the back of your mind can’t settle for even the chance of you misconstruing this. Of being wrong.

“Obvious about what, J?”

“I already told you,” he whispers. He just barely kisses the pad of your thumb. 

“Tell me again,” you beg, holding your breath.

“I’m in love with you.”

“Good,” you hiccup.

“Good? That’s all you have to say? I’m pouring my heart out here, baby,” he huffs and your heart nearly stops altogether. A bewildered giggle slips out of you.

“That’s good because I… uh,” you swallow. “I love you, too.”

He doesn’t answer this time. He slides up the last couple of inches to press his lips against yours. His free hand comes up to cup your jaw, bringing your mouth even harder against his. His other hand squeezes yours for dear life. 

Your head is spinning. You must be dreaming. There’s no way you’re actually kissing your best friend right now, not quite sure if he’s still your best friend at that moment or not, but not caring enough to pull back and check. 

You’d kissed him before. On New Year’s Eve at the stroke of midnight. But, that had been a quick, chaste peck between friends and you’d been able to blame the fireworks behind your eyelids on the holiday, and this. This was different. Much, much different. There were sparks tingling down to the tips of your toes. You pull back when you can no longer justify ignoring your need for oxygen and nearly whine when JJ chases your lips. 

“I’m in love with you.” His voice is hoarse. 

“You said that,” you giggle, brain still a little hazy.

“Yeah, I don’t think you’re going to get me to stop saying it now,” he says. His body weight is almost fully pressed onto you as he ducks his head to place short kisses against your neck. Your fingers find his hair again, combing through the silky strands. You mentally thank him for stealing your shampoo. 

[seulw0nz]

` ꣑꣒‎ ONE WIN, ONE DATE : 심재윤 ─── 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗃𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺 𝖽𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗂𝖿 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍

ʬʬ. football player!jake x cheerleader!reader 𖥔 ݁ ARCHiVE 7OO wordcount fluff . . . skinship, kisses ꒰˵ˊᯅˋ˵꒱ happy bday to jakey, && for my juni bby

YOU'RE STANDING ON THE SIDELINES, pom-poms in hand, watching jake tear through the field like he owns it. he’s got this intensity in his eyes, the kind that makes your pulse pick up because you know he’s giving it his all—just to win this game. all for one reason: he bet you that if he wins, he gets to ask you out.

it’s been a fun, flirty thing between you two for weeks now, but this? this is new. he made sure the whole team knew about his little bet, which has them teasing him endlessly about finally "making a move on his dream girl." you catch a few of his teammates smirking and nudging him before the game starts, and jake just rolls his eyes with a lopsided grin, eyes glancing at you every now and then. you swear you can feel his gaze even from across the field.

the game is close, way too close for your liking. you’re on edge, practically jumping each time he gets the ball, and maybe you’re clapping a little louder than anyone else (not that you liked him, or maybe you did). in the final minutes, it’s tied, and jake’s team has the ball. you watch as he gets the ball, weaving through the opposing team with an ease.

the crowd holds its breath, and so do you.

with a swift, clean kick, jake scores, sealing the win. the stadium erupts, but jake’s eyes find you instantly, a smug, triumphant smile on his face as he’s mobbed by his teammates. when they finally let him go, he sprints over to you, his eyes lighting up with joy.

“so…” he starts, leaning over, hands on his knees, slightly out of breath but still managing to look cocky. “still gonna pretend you’re not into me?”

you roll your eyes, though your cheeks are definitely giving you away. “who said i was ever into you?”

“i could tell.” jake flashes that heart-melting smile, moving closer. you’re aware of the other cheerleaders watching, and you’re definitely aware of his hand grazing your waist, lingering just long enough to make your heart race.

“oh, yeah? you’re that confident?” you ask, trying to sound unaffected, but your voice betrays you.

“confident enough to win a game for you,” he says with a smirk. “and i did say i’d ask you out if i won.”

“so ask away, sim,” you challenge, folding your arms.

he lets out a chuckle, his fingers brushing yours as if testing the waters. “okay, let me ask properly, then.” jake clears his throat dramatically, taking your hand in his. “y/n, would you do me the honor of going out with me?”

you’re pretty sure the butterflies in your stomach are doing somersaults, but you manage to keep your cool—sort of. “hmm… maybe. depends. what kind of date are we talking about?”

jake grins, squeezing your hand gently. “whatever you want. something fun. something that’ll make you smile like that.” he nods at you, obviously noticing the way your lips are curving, despite your attempt to stay composed.

“fine,” you say, relenting with a playful eye roll. “but only because you tried so hard.”

he leans in, closer than before, his voice just above a whisper. “only the best for you.”

your heart skips, and you glance down, trying to hide the way his words affect you. but jake isn’t done; he tilts your chin up, meeting your gaze. "guess you’re stuck with me now.”

“guess so,” you whisper, feeling heat rise to your cheeks as you realize he’s not moving back. his hand is still at your waist, his thumb gently tracing circles on your hip. the stadium is still loud around you, but it feels like it’s just the two of you here, his face inches from yours.

“think i can get a ‘good game’ kiss?” he asks with a wink, his voice teasing but hopeful. you roll your eyes, but you can’t hide the way you’re smiling now.

“don’t push your luck, sim.” but before he can respond, you lean up, giving him the quickest, softest peck on the lips. it’s barely there, but it’s enough to make his eyes widen in surprise and a smile spread across his face.

“you’re making me want to win every game now,” he says, looking down at you like you’re the only person in the world.

“i guess you’ll just have to keep scoring, then,” you reply with a grin, stepping back slightly, though your hand stays in his, fingers tangled together.

“oh, trust me, y/n,” he murmurs, tightening his hold on you, “i’ll be scoring a lot.”

[beef-brisket]

Lucifer smiled: Oh, I'm almost certain they will be.

Adam: ...is this what you and Michael were fighting about?

Lucifer looked away. Fucking Michael: Yes and no. Michael's just... he gets too caught up in his work. He can't get his head out of his ass and have a look around, you know? He just... he either doesn't think or thinks too much. There's no in between.

Adam: ...So, in other words, he talked amd you got angry?

Lucifer: That's pretty on the money. He... wanted to keep you there... even after the baby's born- to do tests... he thinks it'll be a danger. But- you were normal once- I think it'll be fine-!

Adam: He has a point. I mean, it's a shit point, but I see where he's coming from. Someone with the parasite has never been pregnant before. So, who knows what will happen...

Adam leans back, his hands never leaving his stomach.

Lucifer: ...Do you want to keep it?

Adam: ...You know, I've never thought about kids. Or marriage. Or partners. There was no one here that I'd ever want that with. And I sure as hell didn't want to bring a kid into this shit. And I haven't exactly had the best parental role models...

Lucifer was getting nervous. None of that sounded like he wanted to keep it.

Adam: And I'd hate for you to be bound to my bullshit... and I'll probably outlive you. By like... a fucking landslide. Depending on what shit Charlie has, I might even out live her- not that that matters, she probably won't care about me- I'm sure she'd like to move closer to somewhere with people when she's a bit older- than you'll go to- which is fine! I'm not stopping you! I- um... shit, where was I going with this?

Lucifer: I'm not sure- but let me ask you one thing. Do you want to keep it?

Adam: ... I guess?

Lucifer: ...you guess?

Adam: I mean- what if looked like Vox!? Who knows what the fucking parasite will do to it- maybe it's not even a baby amd instead it's so.e creepy mix of us and the mold! I just... I don't want you to dream of a beautiful child, and we end up with some squiggly, wormy thing. I'd still love it... wouldn't have to pay for college.

Lucifer laughed: You really know how to make a situation like this, funny.

Adam: What can I say? It's my coping mechanism. But fuck it. I'm sure it'll be fine! And it's not, I'll just... throw it out the window. Ain't no little fucker surviving that drop.

Lucifer: ...

Adam: ...I'm kidding, Luci.

Lucifer: Okay, whew! Thank god- wait, are we keeping it? Are we having a baby?

Adam: Yeah, man. A "baby"!

Lucifer: Just- baby Adam. No air quotes.

Adam: Okay, sorry. Baby! Sweet. So... nine months- that'll be... two more growth spurts at the most. I can handle that. Fuck yeah. Okay. Cool.

Lucifer: You're so chill about this.

Adam: Yeah, that's just me, man! Don't hate.

Lucifer rolled his eyes. This is going to be a long seven-ish months.

Have you seen Resident Evil: Village? All I'm saying is Adam and Emily as two of the three sisters and Sera as Lady Dimitrescu.

Lucifer is Ethan trying to find Charlie.

At first, Adam was on his mother and sisters side- but because they have a weird thing against dudes, he eventually helps Lucifer.

Trust me, it feels illegal not to make Adam the stunning Lady Dimitrescu, but for story reasons, he'll be one of her kids.

I mean, their hot. What can I say? Adam would look great like this 🤷

Adam: Mmm- man flesh~.

Lucifer: ...Kinda gay, man.

Adam: It's not gay.

Lucifer: It is- man flesh? Really?

Adam: ...

Lucifer: ...

Adam: *stabs sickle into his leg and drags him away* Mother!

I have seen it! Ha I love this. ((Yes he'd rock being the Lady of the house 😩))

Lucifer: Ow!! What the fuck!?

Adam: It's not gay! Mother was right.

[caitified]

Caitlin x reader where reader is a physio in training with the fever?

physio

caitlin clark x reader

warnings:none! sorry for my absence.

i kind of want to do a part 2 of this where caitlin gets slightly injured and reader takes care of her. lmk what you think

it was caitlin’s first official day with the indiana fever. she walked into the training facility with her duffel bag slung over her shoulder, trying to hide the mix of nerves and excitement she felt. the fever locker room wasn’t as intimidating as she’d expected, but everything still felt new – new team, new city, new start.

as she headed down the hall, she spotted you in the physical therapy room, organizing equipment with a calm focus. she hadn’t even met you yet, but something about you immediately caught her attention. maybe it was the way you moved so purposefully, or the easy way you smiled when you noticed her standing in the doorway.

“hey, you must be caitlin,” you said, extending a hand with a friendly smile. “i’m [y/n]. i’m the team’s physical therapist.”

caitlin shook your hand, noticing the warmth of your touch, and couldn’t help the way her stomach did a little flip. “yeah, that’s me. it’s…really nice to meet you,” she managed, maybe a bit too eagerly.

you chuckled softly, motioning for her to sit on the table. “let’s get you checked out, make sure you’re ready to hit the court.”

over the next few weeks, caitlin found herself coming up with excuses to visit the therapy room more often than necessary. she’d claim her ankle felt a little off or that her shoulder was bothering her, all in the hopes of spending a few extra minutes with you. she’d tell herself it was just to get to know the team, but katie lou and lexie quickly saw through her excuses.

“you know, most of us don’t need this much ‘maintenance,’” katie lou teased one afternoon, nudging caitlin as they walked to practice. “pretty sure you’re the healthiest rookie we’ve ever had.”

caitlin rolled her eyes, but a faint blush crept over her cheeks. “just trying to be careful, that’s all.”

it wasn’t long before you started picking up on her pattern, too. one afternoon, when she came in yet again with a vague complaint about her knee, you just raised an eyebrow at her.

“really, clark? again?” you asked, trying to hide the amusement in your voice.

she hesitated, caught off guard by your directness. “uh, well… yeah. just, you know, making sure everything’s good.”

you shook your head, laughing softly. “you know, you don’t need to pretend to be injured to talk to me.”

caitlin’s eyes widened a bit, and she looked down, rubbing the back of her neck. “oh. i mean, i wasn’t–” she stopped, realizing she was caught. “okay, maybe a little.”

you smiled, taking a small step closer. “so why don’t you just ask me out? save yourself all these fake injury excuses?”

caitlin’s breath hitched, surprised by your boldness but grateful you’d made the first move. “you’d really say yes?”

you nodded, a playful glint in your eyes. “i might. but only if you promise to keep the injuries real.”

and from that moment, things shifted between you. you started seeing each other outside of the facility, grabbing coffee after practices and spending late nights getting to know each other. soon, what had started as shy glances and playful excuses turned into something real.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

dating caitlin felt like a dream, especially with the quiet, stolen moments you managed to squeeze into busy schedules. after practice, she’d sometimes find you waiting by the therapy room, her heart doing that familiar flip at the sight of your smile.

“hey, you up for grabbing a bite?” she’d ask, slipping her hand in yours once the two of you were far enough from the facility. at first, you’d both been careful, cautious about being seen together too much, but as the weeks passed, caitlin grew bolder.

one night after a game, you were hanging out in her apartment, both sprawled on the couch, unwinding from the rush of her latest win. she was recounting the highlight of her night, the way she’d hit that last three-pointer, her voice full of excitement as she gestured animatedly.

“i swear, when it left my hand, i just knew it was going in,” she laughed, eyes bright. “the whole crowd went nuts.”

you grinned, watching her, amused by her excitement. “yeah, i saw – i think you almost took out the ref when you celebrated.”

“worth it,” she said, laughing. she shifted a little closer, reaching out to brush a stray hair from your face. “but the best part of the night?” she paused, looking into your eyes, a little softer now. “seeing you waiting for me after the game.”

you felt your heart skip a beat as she leaned in, her lips meeting yours in a slow, gentle kiss that felt like coming home. you wrapped your arms around her, feeling the steady thump of her heartbeat under your fingers.

just as things were getting comfortable, caitlin’s phone lit up on the coffee table, a notification from the team group chat. she groaned, reluctantly pulling away to check it, but couldn’t help laughing when she saw the message from katie lou.

“don’t be late to practice tomorrow, lover girl. and yes, we know you’re still with her.”

caitlin rolled her eyes, showing you the screen. “they’re relentless, you know?”

you laughed, snuggling closer. “i mean, we’re not exactly subtle. not with the way you keep trying to sneak glances at me during warm-ups.”

she grinned, her hand tracing gentle circles on your back. “can’t help it. you’re a distraction.”

your smile softened, and you tilted your head up to look at her. “good thing i’m dating a pro, then. thought you were supposed to have focus.”

“oh, i’m focused, alright.” caitlin’s gaze grew more intense, and her voice lowered as she leaned in again. “focused on you.”

the rest of the night passed in easy conversation and laughter, the kind of effortless connection that had come so naturally from the start. with every passing day, caitlin grew more comfortable being with you, letting her teammates’ teasing roll off her back as she spent more time with you – coffee dates, late-night drives, shared laughter over takeout in her apartment.

soon enough, everyone knew. but caitlin didn’t care. for the first time, she was completely herself with someone, and every time you looked at her with that soft smile, she knew it was worth it.

thanks for reading! again thanks for being patient. i NEED more requests im not super inspired. 💜

[fashionteahouse]

out of your league - paul x reader

AN: Seriously, I can’t thank you guys enough for showing so much love and support to fifteen parts of this story ! kisses to all you xoxo

Picking up the wooden present that was now dry, eyes swam around the picture. Usually, you were a tough critic on what you create.

“This is actually good.” you thought to yourself with confidence.

Looking around the home that you and Paul shared, you found an empty moving box in the storage space and slid the canvas in it to prevent it from getting messed up.

Peeking through a window, you noticed the pattering had stopped and saw that the dampness from the rain was still prevalent. Drops of rain had stopped falling from the sky.

Checking the time, it was early afternoon. Making a small note for Paul, you grab your jacket. You decided to take a bus to Port Angeles. You didn’t want to be the one to drive.

You gladly take in the worldly scenery. Taking everything in, you wanted to be as inspired as possible. Your upcoming trip excited you and made you thankful for sticking to your dream.

Thankfully, the traffic on the sidewalks weren’t crowded.

However, a record store caught your attention. Wanting to check it out, you made your way in. The hard plastic covers of nostalgic artists that you used to listen to, were staring right back you. You had thoughts about enjoying physical media and even had your eye on a cd player that was on sale.

Impulse buying both the cd player and cd, you leave the store ready to use it. You walk with a stroll in your steps as you tear open the box that the purchase was in, throwing the box away in the shopping bag. Peeling the stickers off, you were able to pop open the case and you carefully placed the cd in. As you untangled the headphones that was suitable for it your fingers fumbled the cd player and your face grimaced as you tried your best to save the drop.

Being unsuccessful on your side, pale hands startled you as it caught it expeditiously. Holding it with ease.

Looking at their shoes and seeing the music player in their hands, you slowly look up and see those familiar eyes that you so badly tried to forget, staring back at you. He stood there frozen in front of you as you take it back.

“Thanks.” you say quietly and he pierced his gaze onto you.

“What’s in it?” he asked with inquisitiveness.

You don’t say anything, holding up the newly purchased cd.

A corner of his lip lifts a bit, “I don’t think I’m familiar with that one.”

The artist was someone you held dearly to your heart. People that you knew or were close to you, never really heard of them and you grew to love that. Their sounds were unique but also calming in a way on your pallet.

You stand up, “Thanks again.”

Turning to walk away, you jerk a bit from the cool hand being placed on the arm of your jacket, “Wait.” you hear him say.

Hearing what he has to say, his mouth opens then closes it with his eyebrows furrowed.

“Are you messing with me or something?” you ask, narrowing your eyes.

He looks surprised a bit at such accusation and shakes his head, “No.” He squares his shoulders and then goes on, “My sister has sent you an email. You haven’t responded to it. It’s for Bella’s birthday party that she wants to throw.”

“Yeah, I don’t know about that. Plus, Bella told me wants us to do something small.”

He nods a little.

“How did…Alice.. Get my email address?” you ask out as you did your best to remember the name of the sender.

A small smile goes back to his lips, “That was easy. She found your article of when you won that art contest a while back. It had your email there.” You didn’t expect to see the small look of being impressed in his eyes.

You look to the ground as the cd player you had was tight in your hands.

“Will you come?” Edward asks you and his hard eyes struck at you.

“Uh, no offense but…No way.” you say, your eyes growing out at such suggestion. You were a bit surprised at the shock that he displayed, he actually thought you were going to say yes.

“And why?” he asks.

You take a shaky breath in as you watch your surroundings, “I’m sure you’re smart. How many…Vampires will be in attendance?” you ask in a hushed tone.

His eyes shifted nervously a bit but he quickly recoups himself and you felt lucky that you didn’t miss catching it.

”You’re not afraid of wolves, but you’re afraid of vampires who don’t feed from humans.” he says in a joking tone, him having a kick out of your response.

This makes you scoff but then huff out a small laugh, “That’s a good one. A vampire that doesn’t feed from humans.”

“It’s true.” he says as his smile starts to fade, wanting you to believe him.

Placing a hand on your chin, “Hm. I guess you suck air instead.”

“I’m serious.” he says with hardness, wanting you to stop joking on such manner but the amused smile from your joke never leave your face. Your finger does fall from your chin.

He looks around a bit before leaning a bit, “Would you like to know?”

“I’ll just have Paul tell me.” you say.

“I’m afraid Paul doesn’t know everything.” he says, almost cringing at speaking Paul’s name.

You shrug.

“Where were you headed?” he asks.

“Why? Where’s Bella?” you ask.

“She’s with her friend Jake at the reservation.” he answers.

“So, you got bored and decided to come to Port Angeles?” you say without interest.

“I came to see you.” he says but has a look of concentration before resuming, “Look, I can answer your questions. I’m sure Paul already told you about the treaty me and my family have with the quileutes.”

“The treaty doesn’t mean anything. You and your family still caused him to leave his normal life and shift.” you tell him.

He showcased a crooked, amused smile, “Are you sure it was my family or is it the new threats coming in throughout Washington? The constant “animal attacks?”, he pauses to shake his head, “Me and my family have been coming in and out for over 70 years and have you noticed there’s no elder werewolves that you know of? If you did, you’d met them, especially by now.” he says in a tone only you could hear as the sidewalks started to have more and more people walking.

He held the door open for you as you walked through the library that wasn’t crowded. Sitting in a plush study chair in a corner, you notice he feels more comfortable. His back is to the wall as you sit diagonal but close.

“I didn’t forget what you said about me.” you tell him in a hushed tone. His eyes look to you as he encourages you to go on. They still took time to get used to.

You look down as you bounce your leg a bit to bring the words out, “You said, hypothetically, and I quote, ‘you have something about yourself that’s unusual.’ What did you mean by that?” You then rise your eyes to look at him look down at the table. He’s relaxed against the chair with a nonchalant expression.

“If I tell you, will you promise to think about coming?” he asks.

“Why would I promise you anything?”

“You’ve figured a lot out. What’s being said needs to stay in this library and at this table. I know you told Bella to promise not to tell me that you know what I am.”

“How?” you challenge, she told you that he left. He just gives you a look.

You huff a bit in frustration, as you look around the library. Only trickles of people were walking around, but nowhere near close to where you both were.

Under the table you cross your two fingers, “I’ll try to think about it.”

He seems satisfied enough as he then thinks for a moment.

“Which would you like to know first? How I knew or what I find unusual?”

“You pick.” you say jerking your head a bit.

He leans forward a bit before speaking out and that same look of focus was back on his stone face, “I just see colors. Like…a whirlwind of colors. It’s strange.”

You look around in confusion. Sure there were posters that had splashes of colors but his chuckle brings your eyes back to yours. He waits a bit before turning serious.

“I mean in your mind.” he clarifies.

“In my mind?” you ask to see if he’s serious.

“Yes.” he answers flatly.

Silence falls as you look at dust that’s floating in the distant light of the window.

“You don’t see words? What I’m thinking?”

He shakes his head as he looks down at the table to concentrate, “No. If the emotion from you is strong enough…They form into..” he shakes his head, he doesn’t know how to describe it. It was unusual for him.

“I don’t know..It’s like the colors try to come together to create something.” he finishes, hoping it’s the best way to describe it. It was challenging to bring what he sees in your head, into words.

“So, what about me and Bella’s talk?”

“I had left out but I was still in earshot. That’s all.” he says.

You roll your eyes, “Of course.”

You then look to him as he still stares at you with one look, “Your eyes aren’t red like the one that I saw.”

This peaks his interest. “You saw one?”

“Yeah. Not to get too into details-” you start but he cuts you off.

“No, please. Do tell.” he says politely but the look on his face showed great zeal for the topic. The energy surrounding this statement brought you in to speak on what you saw.

You then explain the situation of the first time going to the cliffs by yourself, to prove that it wasn’t you willingly walking to danger. How on the way there, the inhuman figure got ready to attack you. Paul and the others came to your defense, killing and dismembering it and setting it to fire. Not an ounce of boredom was on Edward’s face. Your mind brought him into the world of the story, he saw the colors of red vicious eyes, the bluish fire, and he even saw a hint of the picture you drew of the experience when you had trouble sleeping. It all flowed together on accord. He wished you hadn’t changed the image of the picture in your mind so fast, he wanted to look at it longer. It was a clear picture and he could almost feel being there.

“The cliffs are in La Push land, right?” he asks inquisitively.

You nod.

“You and Bella being friends make more sense. Both being danger magnets.” he says with humor.

You shake your head being serious, “I feel like I’m in danger now. I know about the incident which landed her in the hospital. I know that the story was bogus. What really happened?”

“Pushy are we? You better think long and hard about coming to this party.” Edward says with his cheek resting on his hand.

“Why do you want me to come so bad?” you ask.

He takes an intake of breath through his nose, as he stared ahead with his arm resting on the table. “That I can’t tell you.”

You nudge his arm feeling annoyed, “Why not? You’re going to lure me in so your family can feast on me?”

He looks down at the spot that you touched him and back at you with a look of innocent amusement that you haven’t seen from him before.

“Me and my family don’t feast from humans. That’s why our eyes aren’t red.” he says trying to smoothly change the subject.

You cross your arms as you leaned back a bit in your chair, giving him a stone cold look.

“We’re vegetarians.”

This brings out a laugh from you, “You cannot be serious.”

He shrugs, not taking offense to your laughter, even sporting a small grin of his own, “It’s what we call it. Instead of human blood, it’s animal blood.”

You nod with understanding but you didn’t think it was possible. It must’ve explained the amber color. As you take in the color of his eyes, he looks to you with intensity but you shift your eyes somewhere else not wanting to hold that gaze.

“And with Bella, a nomad attacked her and..We had to save her. We used the story that we used to not bring light to the real truth.” he explains.

You look at him with skepticism, “A bite mark?”

“He bit her.” He says, knowing that you were blaming him.

“Make it all make sense.”

“I sucked the venom out. If I didn’t get there in time..” he says as he remembers but you say, “No doctors have noticed?”

“Carlisle is one. He knew the doctor in Phoenix. Pulling some strings, Carlisle was able to treat what he wanted.” he says casually but you don’t even know who that person is.

He doesn’t give you the opportunity to ask.

“So.” he says as he shifts a bit in his seat.

“So.” you answer back.

“Going to New York?” he asks with a polite smile. Of course, she told him.

“It’s for business and no you can’t come.” you say not being friendly in your response.

This brings out a small laugh from him and he then shakes his head a bit, “I don’t get why you stay here. Especially in La Push.” he says with his brows knitted. He just didn’t understand it. He found himself wishing he could be able to understand it.

“My soulmate.” you tell him defensively.

His look is bored when you tell him this, “You sure will miss out on a lot.”

“How old are you?” you ask to change the subject.

He catches this but chooses not to circle back and has a grin, “109.”

“You should be in a nursing home instead of a high school. And how are you 109 and you haven’t heard of-“ you say and hold up the hard copy cd.

He shrugs.

“Get it together old man.” you say in a disappointed tone.

Smiling a bit, he slides the cd player to himself as he just holds one headphone a bit close to his ear, he pressed play. He did it in a smooth manner to where the music flowed out before you knew it.

He actually listened to the entire song that was on the first track as you read the back on the cd. You popped it open as you pulled out the lyric sheet.

“Not bad.” he says, pleased that the somewhat new gen music wasn’t horrible, sliding your items back to you.

”Exactly.” you quietly say as you folded the lyric sheet back up and put it back in its place.

“Are you into classical music?” He asks.

“I had a lengthy period timeline of listening to it while I would study.” you say as you thought back to the era. You even thought about buying a keyboard to play. But, you knew where your heart resided.

“Do you have a favorite song?” he asks, surprised but at the same time not surprised, he figured you’re deep into the arts.

You tilt your head to the sky with your arms crossed as you thought about it. Edward caught glimpses of the colors of the covers that you mentally searched through, that you remember putting in your playlist.

“It’s like…Something that starts with a D, et Chloe: part lll. I remember the part because of the tallies.” You say, still in thought.

He had a look of thought as well, “Ravel?”

“I think. Don’t quote me on it.” you say as you then watch him interrupt what he was going to say to your response and says, “I gotta go.”

Before any form of a processed state of mind could be made, he wasn’t there. All that was left was remembrance of him being there. You look beside you to see both Kim and Emily. Kim held the door for Emily as you knew for a fact that Kim suggested this place. It was you two that found this hidden gem together years back.

Emily was the one who spotted you. She wasn’t vocal about it but she rushed to where you were. You both hugged as she then says, “Went shopping without me?” She circles around you as you both gush about what you had purchased.

Kim doesn’t say anything as she sits down in a seat where a certain somebody sat in.

“Getting a book?” you ask her.

“Yes. Now, come with me.” she says and pulls your arm.

You both idly walk in the aisle where the genre she’s looking for is located.

You let your eyes run across the spines of the books as Emily picks one up and reads the back of one.

“Did you get one?” she asks.

“Nope. I just got here.” you tell her.

She then lights up with her eyes, “Guess what?”

You return with a smile, “What.”

“With you leaving, I figured I should visit home.” she says excitedly as your eyes land on the book that she had interest in. It was a recipe book.

“Really? I mean…You could’ve came out of town with me.” you offer, thinking of the fun you both could have exploring the city together if you had free time.

“Oh, I’m sure you’re going to be there more than one time.” she says with certainty.

“You give me too much credit.” you say quietly as you at other books that were around.

“You’ve been invited out of town and someone paid your way. I have a feeling this won’t be the last time you experience this.” Emily says with a knowing look.

“Plus, since I’ve moved in with Sam, I haven’t seen my mom in person. I took this as a sign to spend some type of time with her.” she adds on as she tucks the book under her arms and sees if something else catches her attention.

Kim ends up joining you two as you stand next to Emily as she checks out a book. You felt a nudge before looking to see Kim giving you all of your stuff from the table.

“Thanks.” you say.

Walking out, you feel the air as the dampness has somewhat dried up. Emily suggests you all grab a treat at a nearby bakery.

Sitting with the paid for treat, Kim says she has to use the bathroom. It was just you and Emily at the table.

“How have things been?” you ask her.

“Things with me have been great!” she says and then chews while she looks at you, “What about you? Besides your achievements.” she says.

“So far, so good.” you say.

“I know you don’t see eye to eye with Kim, but man do I feel bad for her right now.” she says quietly.

“I’m sure things will be okay.” you say, “She finally got the man of her dreams and Paul isn’t as bad as she made him out to be.”

“I don’t know.” Emily drags out. You give her a quizzical look.

“Jared and Kim have been fighting. A lot. Jared’s not that kind of person so it’s worrisome.”

“Do you know why?” you say, feeling yourself fall into the pits of gossip.

“I really don’t. That’s why I just hope things do turn out better, you know?” Emily says. You nod.

Kim later sits down, with peaks at her, you notice her face was a bit red.

“Everything alright?” Emily asks. Kim just nods. She’s been quiet.

You all close car doors as you all get out of Emily’s car.

Unlocking the door, Emily puts her keys up as you all take off the jackets that you had on.

Barely getting your shoes off, Paul comes to you and bends down to give you a kiss but makes a disagreeing noise as he retracts from you, “Ugh.”

“I took a shower.” you tell him, but deep down you knew why.

“And you need another one.” he says and the look on his face showed that he was serious. He kept an eye on you, as he tried to figure you out. You move further into the house.

“Want to see what I bought?” you ask. He doesn’t say anything but looks at what you’re holding.

“Where’s Jared.” Kim asks Paul.

“I don’t know. Go find him.” Paul speaks to her irritated but returns his attention to you.

Seeing Sam come out from the hallway and into the front of the home, you notice Emily gone and walk closer to him.

“Where did Emily go?” you ask.

“She’s in the shower. She smelled…Strange.” he says but takes a sniff as he moves a bit closer to where you were and wrinkles his nose, “No offense, but you smell worse.”

You look down and you hear the door close and find Jared looking tired as he comes in, “What’s that smell?”

“Y/N, come outside with me.” Paul says as he opens the door. Just from the force of the door opening, you knew it wasn’t for a good reason. Sighing, you ask in a small voice, “Why?”

He doesn’t even bother to answer your question as he looks at you with expectancy.

You slowly walk and grab your jacket.

Moving away from the front door, you both walk to the side front of Emily’s home.

“Did you lie to me?” Paul asks with narrowed eyes.

“About what?” you ask with a shrug.

“Anything. About where you were going or what?” he asks and as you open your mouth he says, “Don’t lie.”

“I told you I was going to Port Angeles and that’s where I was.” you tell him.

“There’s no way you were there with Emily and Kim the entire time. You’re fucking soaked in a leech’s scent.” he says and he’s trying his best to keep his soft trembles in control but he’s pacing a bit in order to do so.

“After I went to the record store, I did go to the library. Emily and Kim came and it was a total surprise. I didn’t even know they were going to be there.” you explain.

He gives you a long look, making you uncomfortable under such gaze. He knew you for some time to pick up on your behavior and body language. Something deep told him you were hiding something from him.

“Whose painting is in the cardboard box at home.” he asks with assertiveness.

“I-it’s.. Does it even matter?” Your heart was beating so hard it was pounding in your ears.

“Yes it does fucking matter.” he hissed and he then shakes his head, “What the hell is wrong with you? You’re lying to me now-”

“I didn’t lie!” you cry out.

“You’re telling me half truths! You think I don’t fucking know you?” He says. You do nothing but stare at the tree in front of you as you take in a shaky breath.

Jared comes out of the house next, walking right near where Paul was, close to the woods.

Not caring a person was outside with the both of you, he pressed on, “So whose is it?”

Jared awkwardly walked a bit, Sam was the one who sent Jared outside to tell Paul to come in.

When you don’t answer, Jared then moved beside Paul as he quickly says, “Sam wanted me to get you.”

Turning his face the side to face him, “Tell him to fucking wait.” Paul tells him coldly. He then turns back and look at you as your hands are stuffed in your pockets. You weren’t going to tell him in front of Jared.

Paul displays a sardonic expression as he then says, “It’s like that?”

He stomps past you but you call for him still, “Paul, just wait.” you say but he completely ignores you as he slapped the door closed behind himself.

You look down as you walk slowly to the porch steps and sit down.

“Why didn’t you just tell him?” Jared asks quietly in disbelief to you, he was one of the people who had faith in the relationship that you shared.

You shake your head as you stare ahead, “I don’t know.” you whisper to him. You genuinely didn’t.

Jared sits next to you on the steps but doesn’t say anything.

You both sat in silence until you hear the door close again but this time it was Kim.

You watch as she leaves from away from the house.

“You’re leaving?” he asks her.

She nods half heartedly, barely meeting his gaze. She then turns back around and walk in the direction of her home. Jared sucks in his teeth and you watch him as he looks to the sky, as of the sky would give him answers.

“I’m not the only one with problems after all.” you say quietly to him, trying to poke a joke at him.

Although he’s a bit glad that you’re trying to lighten up, he just couldn’t bring himself to do the same.

“It’s been like this for I don’t know how long.” Jared says.

“I don’t get it. She’s finally with you, what’s the problem?”

“She just keeps bringing up how…She feels trapped here. She did have plans to go to college but it’s not like I asked for this. She knew what it was when she accepted everything.”

“She blames you for not being able to leave?” you ask surprised.

“Pretty much. She even says shit that tear me down and…” he says and shakes his head, “I guess seeing people start their fall classes must’ve made her feel some type of way. I don’t know.”

You look down as you felt bad for such things being done to him. You then knit your eyebrows together, “She can just do online.”

“I told her that. At least when you two were friends you would've talked some sense into her. I don’t know what’s going on with that chick.” he says and a moment later, he opens the door back up. You decide to get up and follow him in the house as he held the door open.

You catch a bit of what Sam is saying cautiously to Paul, “-You sure?”

You see a seething Paul sitting at the table with his arms crossed, carrying a heavy look at you as you entered in.

He rises, but you touch his arm with both hands as he doesn’t slow down from walking out.

He was moving faster than you as you clambered down the steps trying to keep up with him.

“Paul, I will tell you. I don’t know why I didn’t.” you say.

He stops but turns around.

“I know who it’s for. I want you to say it.” he says.

You felt nervous again but you still open your mouth to say, “Bella.”

He sighs and turns back around before you call him again. He stops but doesn’t turn around.

“I couldn’t just not give her anything.” you say.

“Just like how you couldn’t just leave her ass alone.” he says but turns around before taking small steps to you, “You don’t even smell like a regular leech running around here. You smell like a fucking Cullen.”

You blink and he shakes his head in such disappointment and walks towards the woods.

Leaving you there with that to sit on your brain, he doesn’t even bother to strip, phasing and ripping out of his clothes. Before you could blink, the silver wolf disappears into the trees.

Not even going back inside, you walk home. You hand touch your forehead as you walk and look down.

You felt so angry with yourself. Then again, you didn’t go to Port Angeles to see Edward. He told you that he came to see you out. You then thought about how that wouldn’t have been a possibility had you not agreed to Bella’s invitation to go over her house. But then, she would’ve figured out where you lived and you felt that was even worse.

You scrubbed your entire body head to toe in the shower before even thinking about doing anything else.

With a fan by the window, you blew out your troubles with the help of cannabis. You even sat after, just staring out the window into the night sky.

Laying in bed alone, you stay up as the birds chirped, waking up to start their day. You move to the other side and pull the covers over your head.

You woke up late, but woke up with a slight jump. The covers come from off of your head as you search the room. You remember what happened and you check to see if Paul came home. He didn’t.

A knock surprised you as the tv glowed to you and rise up to open it. Jared had the things that you bought from yesterday that you had left over Emily’s in his hands.

Taking it from him, you thank him.

“Did you see him?” you ask Jared as he turns to walk away.

“Nope. I’m heading to Sam’s though.”

“Wait, I’m coming with you.”

Throwing something quick on, you both walk to Sam and Emily’s.

Emily was out running errands but that didn’t stop Jared from helping himself make a meaty sandwich.

Sam was lounging on the sofa, you sit down in the loveseat. He turns the volume of the television down as you enter. He looks to you and you look to him.

“Where’s Paul.”

“He won’t phase back.” he says as if he’s been waiting to tell you this.

You softly sigh as you drop your head a bit.

“Y/N, I have to side with him on this one. I don’t know what you were thinking. Hanging with the Cullens? We told you about them.” Sam says.

“That’s the thing..I didn’t go out of my way to hang with them.” you say and shake your head.

“What happened?” he asks trying to get a clear understanding.

“I told the truth. I did go to Port Angeles, but Edward was there. He caught my cd player from dropping and we talked. We were close and his scent must’ve rubbed off on me.” you tell him.

“Why did he talk to you?” he then asked.

“His sister wanted to throw Bella a birthday party and she extended an invitation to me. I didn’t agree to go. Edward came to pass the message along. He then told me…Things.”

“What things?” Sam asks with all focus. Jared by then joins the room with the sandwich almost gone from his hands.

“He told me not to say anything.” you whisper as you put your hands on your face.

“Did he threaten you?” Sam says getting a bit worked up.

“No, no. It wasn’t in a threatening manner.” you say as you wring your fingers, “He told me about his family’s diet, what really happened to Bella in Phoenix…” you say as you tried to think back.

Both Sam and Jared share a look.

Jared suggested to Sam that you should see Old Quil.

“Why?” you question.

“You know a lot. He keeps track of everything. That’s how we know what we know now.” Sam says.

They both walk you to the home that belonged to him. The cane he had in his hand was gripped as he held the door open and looked at all three of you.

“Who’s this.” he asks as he looks at you.

“Y/N. Paul’s imprint.”

“Ohhh okay. How are you doing dear?” he asks in an ancient voice and his stoic expression turns friendly.

“Good..I guess.” you say quietly and Old Quil takes his eyes away from you and nod to both Sam and Jared.

“Tell him everything. Don’t be afraid.” Jared coaches and encourages you.

You watch as they both leave, Old Quil tells you that you can have a seat. He offers something to drink but you decline. The wisdom he carried oozes from his aura as he sits in the recliner across the sofa that you sat in.

He keeps a pipe in his mouth as he softly rocked as you tell him blow by blow, starting from the moment you met Bella Swan. You add that Edward didn’t want you to say anything and to keep it in the library.

“Well I’ll be damned. Vampires with abilities and all.” he says.

Paul did come home, dirty and naked. He found you not home and decided to pay a visit to Sam’s after he took a shower. Old Quil yells a come in as you both sat at a kitchen table with a pen and pad. He wanted to get word for word, not missing any details.

Paul slowly walks in as he takes in the sight.

You still light up when you see that it’s Paul. You get up and cautiously walk towards him but all is forgotten when he pulls you close and tightly hold you to him with his arms.

Sitting in Paul’s lap, you watch as Old Quil flipped through the inked soaked pages, satisfied with how much he was able to document.

“I think you should go.” The older man decided to you as he pulls off his reading glasses and fold them.

“Don’t piss me off.” Paul says, after he got a recap of everything.

“Watch your mouth.” he says sternly then says, “I’m serious. He willingly told her all of this just by one conversation. Imagine how much she could come back with from an entire family.”

“She dies, then what? She gets hurt then what?” Paul says, not even believing this person that he was taught to respect since a child, would suggest such a thing.

“They drink animal’s blood. He can’t even read her mind so he won’t know she told us. It’s helpful to know rather than be surprised. Don’t you have questions? There’s holes that need to be filled and they’ve been around longer than we have. Could the gene be intertwined with puberty to have boys change so young?” Old Quil inquires as he strokes his chin a bit.

Moving you off of his lap, he gets up and paced the small home as he clenched and unclenched his fists.

“Did you agree?” Paul says to you.

“I’m just finding out this suggestion now.”

“Do you agree?” he then asks, titling his head down at you, holding his gaze in yours.

You shrug and say, “I don’t know.” He scoffs and look away.

“We can play this smart you know. Find out what other abilities they have.” Old Quil cuts in with his thin tenor voice.

“Who gives a fuck? As long as they stay off of our land, they can fuck off for all we care!” Paul hisses.

“Your mouth is so disgusting.” the older man says as he shakes his head. He takes a blow from his pipe, “Just think about it, Y/N.”

That’s what Edward said.

“No!” Paul roars, putting his foot down. He then moves over to you, taking both cheeks in his hands as he jerks you a bit to get you to look at him. You do.

“You’re not going. You hear me?” he makes it clear to you. You say nothing as you look at his almost desperate face. He then calls your name with force when you don’t say anything. Trying not to let your face crumble, you swallowed the lump in your throat. You wanted to do what you could do to help but his expression spoke volumes.

[hyunluvbug]

show me how to love | five - love me

pairing: hwang hyunjin x afab reader

content warnings: NSFW MDNI!!!🔞, kissing, fingering, unprotected sex (stay protected yall o7), semi possessive (we love to see it), praise

word count: 1803

a/n: a new part??? omg we cheered lol, here is the next part and i plan for part 6 to be the last part of this series. thank you so much to everyone who has been reading and interacting <3 i hope u enjoy :)

She wakes up and feels like she had the best sleep ever. There is immense warmth beneath her, her eyes cast down to see Hyunjin fast asleep. His chest moves up and down from his breaths. One of his arms still lays over her waist, she feels her face warm up as she remembers what happened last night. How could this have actually happened? She has always dreamed about Hyunjin confessing his feelings to her and to be honest she did not think he even felt the same way. To now know that this beautiful and amazing guy, one of her best friends, is in love with her? It felt like a dream. A dream she did not want to wake up from. She lays back down onto Hyunjin’s chest but feels him stir a little bit and his arm around her tighten. She keeps her eyes open as she looks up at him, her free hand goes up to a stray hair on his forehead. She pushes it out of the way and continues to stare at him, he is one of the most angelic people she has ever seen. What is he doing to her?

“Enjoying the view?” Hyunjin mumbles and she feels her heart almost drop out of her ass. His eyes open to meet hers and he smirks at her. “You were awake that whole time?”

“Not the whole time, just from when you couldn't resist touching me.” He teases and pulls her closer, if that is even possible. She can feel his breath on her face, “How could I not?” She smiles at him. He leans down to press his lips to hers passionately. She gets on top of him and he grunts. His mind goes crazy from the thoughts of her riding him. As they are kissing, her phone begins to ring. Hyunjin does not let up from the kiss while she is trying to pull away. “Hyunjin, I have to get the phone.” She said between kisses and Hyunjin mumbles in response. He pulls away from her and kisses all over her face. She giggles from the feeling and he grabs her phone from the coffee table. 

“Answer it.” He mischievously smirks. She looks at the screen to see that Han is calling her, she answers the phone and puts it to her ear. “Hello?” 

“Y/n! I thought you died! Are you doing alright? I didn’t hear from you all day yesterday.” While Han is talking, Hyunjin sits up and pushes Y/n below him with her back to the couch. He begins to run his hands down her legs and goes to unbutton her pants. Her eyes widen as she watches him take her pants off. 

“Yes, I am fine. There is nothing to worry about.”

“Nothing to worry about? You were an absolute DISASTER the last time I saw you. Are you sure that I don’t need to talk to Hyunjin myself?” 

With her pants fully off, Hyunjin runs a finger down her panties right over her slit sending a shiver down her back. She holds back a moan as Hyunjin continues to rub her over her underwear. 

“I swear there is nothing to worry about. Hyunjin and I are on good terms.” She says beginning to sound more hoarse than she intends to. His movements become quicker over her clit and she bites down on her lip. 

“Okay if you say so. But, I wanted to ask you something.” Han says and to be honest she didn't want to keep talking to him especially with how good Hyunjin was making her feel. Hyunjin looks at her with a smirk and stops his movements on her clit. He leans down to pull her underwear down and before she knows it, his finger is inside her. She inhales a loud breath and remembers that Han is still on the phone. “Uh- yes. What did you need to ask me?” She replies and Hyunjin begins to finger her at a slow rhythm. It takes everything in her not to moan out loud for him. Everything that Han says to her leads to her responding with only, “Mhmm.” “Yeah” and “Okay.” She could not tell you what he was saying, all her focus was on how good Hyunjin is making her feel. 

“Thank you so much for listening Y/n. I appreciate it.” 

“Mhmm, no problem.”

“Oh and tell Hyunjin I said hey.” 

Her eyes widen and before she is able to respond he hangs up. Hyunjin looks down at her with amusement, his finger begins to speed up. Finally she is able to let out all the moans she had been holding in. “Fuck Hyunjin.” 

Hyunjin chuckles, “You were such a good girl for me. But now I want to listen to you.” His fingers keep the same rhythm, as he leans down to press his lips to hers. She moans into his mouth while his finger speeds up. She groans more into his mouth and she can feel him smirk. He pulls away from her mouth and pulls his finger out. She pouts up at him and his fingers go down to his own pants. He undoes his buckle and takes his pants off. She waits hungrily as he pulls down his boxers next. She feels her breath grow more unsteady as he pushes her legs further apart to get between them. His hands find her waist and when he pulls her closer her head hits the couch softly. His hands run up to the bottom of her top and pull her shirt over her head. 

“Sit up for me.” He mumbles and she leans forward, his warm hand goes behind her back to unclasp her bra. Her boobs now move freely and his gaze darkens. He pushes her back down onto the couch. She feels his cock brush up against her core and her back arches slightly. He looks down at her as he pushes inside, “Fuck!” He exclaims once he is fully in. “How are you so tight?” He groans, his cock begins to slowly move inside her as he finds his rhythm. She can feel him so deeply and her mind is already beginning to break from the pleasure. 

“Shit, you’re so hot.” He moans and she moans in response. His rhythm begins to speed up. Her boobs begin to move with each thrust, the sounds of their moans and skin fill the ear. Hyujin leans down to her and places a hand on one of her boobs. The softness of his hands meets the softness of her skin. Her moans become higher the faster he goes. “You take it so well baby.” He grunts and picks up the pace. 

“Hyunjin please.” She breathes out, her hands reach behind her to hold on to the couch. 

“Fuck. Can you turn around?” He pulls out of her and she turns around with her ass in the air. Hyunjin repositions himself and begins to fuck her even faster (if that is even possible). His hand meets her ass with a loud smack and she moans into the couch. He grabs both of her arms to pull her up to his chest. “You’re such a good girl baby. I fucking love this pussy.” He grunts into her ear and she moans in response. 

“You’re mine baby. No one else’s.” He says into her ear and places a kiss onto her cheek. He continues fucking into her, his eyes beginning to roll and her breaths coming out into whimpers. “I am so close, are you close baby?” He asks and she moans yes in response. 

“I want you to cum for me, okay angel? I am right with you.” His cock reaches a deeper place into her and she feels herself about to come undone. “I am going to cum.” She moans out and he grunts in response. 

“Cum baby.”

At that command, she cums around him and he continues a few more thrusts before he pulls out. “Turn around baby.” He says gently and she turns around to see him stroking his cock towards her face. “I am going to cum on that pretty face, claim you as mine.” 

She groans in response as she watches his hand work on his cock. A few more strokes and he is cumming. His cum lands on her face and some of it gets into her mouth. She giggles as he continues to paint her face. Hyunjin breathes out a loud groan and looks down at her. His hands reach her face, “You look so beautiful right now.” He gushed. She felt her face flush from the compliment. “Let me get you some tissues.” He places a kiss on her face and gets up from the couch. 

She lays down on one of the couch pillows feeling exhausted. When Hyunjin returns, she is able to get a good look at his naked body. His body is unlike anything she could have ever imagined. Hyunjin walks over to her and wipes her face for her. He sits down beside her and lets out a long sigh. “That was amazing.” He smiles at her and she nods in agreement. “Can I request that we take a post sex nap?” She leans up with her arms open. 

“How could I ever deny that request?” He teases and lays down in her arms. She strokes his hair as they lay together. 

“By the way what did Han say?”

She looks down at him, “I am gonna be so honest, I have no idea.” Hyunjin giggles in accomplishment.  “But, he definitely knew something was up. He told me to tell you hi for him.” 

Hyunjin begins to laugh more and she glares down at him playfully. “It’s not funny! I don’t know how I will face him now.” She grunts in annoyance as well as embarrassment. 

“I’m sure it won’t be as bad as you think.” 

“Are you sure you know the Han that we are talking about? This guy will make it his whole ass personality. Just watch” She sighs. She suddenly feels a small vibration under her arm. She had forgotten her phone was still on the couch from before. She picks up her phone to see she has tons of messages from her group chat with Han, Chan, Changbin, Lee Know, Felix, Jeongin, and Seungmin. Messages like “I THINK HYUNJIN AND Y/N ARE HAVING SEX.” from Han and other messages like ‘FINALLY!!” “Took them long enough” and “I won’t believe it until I see it” come from the others. She groans in frustration.

“Like I said, he will make it his whole personality.” She said and showed Hyunjin the phone. Hyunjin just began to laugh at all the messages and decided to reply. 

“We did have sex :) - Hyunjin.”

[hiro--aoki]

TWD X Tumblr Chapter Four: Disoriented

TW: Somewhat suggested abuse, but its pretty plain of tw's today

A/n: I'm really sorry for how late this is, family shit, but it's here. It's also short, but that just means more chapters in season one

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

"Disoriented."

The fire crackles in the middle of the circle of people, crickets chirping off in the distance.

Rick has Lori and Lily either side of him and Carl laying on his lap.

"I guess that comes closest." Rick continues, glancing around the group as rubs Carl's head.

"Disoriented. Fear, confusion; all those things but disoriented comes closest."

Thunder rolls in the distance as the group listens to his tired voice, explaining the journey he went through to find his family.

Dale sets down his mug of soup, "Words can be meagre things. Sometimes they fall short."

He glances around the group as well.

"I felt like I'd been ripped out of my life and put somewhere else." Rick continues, "For a while I thought I was trapped. Trapped in some coma dream. Something I might not wake up from ever."

Carl pulls himself closer to Rick, tilting his head back to look up at him.

There's a soft sparkle in his eyes, as he listens to his strong and brave dad.

"Mom said you died." He whispers softly.

He sounds like he's almost about to fall asleep, cuddled up with his family.

There's another momentary silence withing the group.

Lori opens her mouth to explain, but Rick interupts, his voice soft like silk.

"She had every reason to believe that...don't you ever doubt it."

Lori looks over at Shane, who's sitting with Delilah and Kayden snuggled up next to him. They lock eyes, almost communicating.

Finally, Lori speaks.

"When things started to get really bad, they told me at the hospital that they were going to medevac you and the other patients to Atlanta and it never happened."

"Probably for the best." Lily whispers.

"Yeah, probably for the best." Lori smiles down at her.

"And, I'm not surprised, after Atlanta fell." Rick adds.

Shane tosses a twig into the warmth of the fire.

A few "yeah"s are murmered around the group.

"And from the look of that hospital, it got overrun." "...yeah, looks don't decieve." Shane adds, "I barely got them out. You know?" 

He gestures to Lori, Carl and LIly then Kayden and Delilah.

Rick looks over at Shane, "I can't tell you how grateful I am to you, Shane. I can't begin to express it."

There's a sudden tension spike between the group.

"There go those words falling short again." Dale jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

Glenn moves from the fire, with his cup of soup, sitting down next to Delilah and Kayden, offering a sip of his soup to Delilah. She shakes her head at the offer.

Kayden's eyes stay on Carl. She wants to be cuddled up with him, but she can't interrupt his family moment.

"Paltry things." Dale adds, directed at the lack of ability to express oneself purely through words.

Lori grips Rick even tighter, going into deep thought about something.

Rick rubs her arm, soothing her, as he thinks she's still recovering form the shock of him coming back.

Someone steps up. Ed Peletier. Here comes some drama.

He throws a chopped log into the fire, making it bigger. The fire crackles loudly and Ed sits back down.

"Hey, Ed, you want to rethink that log?" Shane asks, his patience obviously barely existent for this man.

Ed just throws his head back and says, "It's cold, man."

The groups throws glances at each other, each one showing a different combination of emotions, ranging from annoyance to... yeah basically all annoyance.

"The cold don't change the rules, does it?" Shane says to Ed, waiting for him to get the hint, "Keep our fires low, just embers, so we can't be seen from a distance, right?"

Everyone hopes that Ed will just listen and take the log out. But their wishes go unanswered.

"I said it's cold." Ed hardens his voice, as if he could scare Shane into letting him rule the roost, "You should mind your own business for once."

Shane lets out a groan, before standing, deciding if he wants it done, Ed ain't gonna do it.

"Hey Ed." Shane mumbles as he passes Ed, giving him two pats on his shoulder as he stands next to him, "You sure you want to have this conversation, man?"

Ed looks up at Shane from his seat, thinking for a moment, weighing his options.

"Go on. Pull the damn thing out." He says after a few seconds.

Shane just stands there. He's not Ed's dog, he's not doing it for him.

"Go on!" Ed raises his voice.

Carol stands, laying her shawl on her chair next to Sophia, as she stands to take the log out.

Shane looks between Ed and the fire before pulling out the log, just so Carol doesn't have to and so he doesn't have to put up with Ed's 'Lead Cheerleader Complex'.

He tosses the burning log to the ground and stops out the flames on it.

Shane then crouches next to Carol and Sophia, "Hey, carol, Sophia, how are ya'll this evening?"

Sophia stays looking at the fire, silently, but Carol turns to Shane and answers him.

"Fine. We're just fine." "Okay." Shane says, obviously questioning her.

Ed glares the the three of them from across the fire.

"I'm sorry about the fire." Carol adds.

"No, no, no, no. No apology needed." Shane assures, "Ya'll have a good night, okay?"

They both nod and Carol whispers a "Thank you".

Shane stands again, before saying to Ed in particular, "I appreciate the cooperation." 

The underlying sarcasm can be noted in his tone.

Shane walks back to his spot on the ground, the group watching him move.

"Have you given any thought to Daryl Dixon? He won't be happy to hear his brother was left behind." Dale asks.

"I'll tell him."T-Dog declares, "I dropped the key. It's on me."

"I cuffed him. That makes it mine." Rick counters.

"Guys, it's not a competition." Delilah says, Glenn rubs his thumb over her knuckle, his other hand holfing his now empty mug.

"I don't mean to sound racist when I say this but it might sound better coming froma white guy." Glenn adds.

"...I did what I did. hell if I'm gonna hide from him." T-Dog says firmly.

"We could lie." Amy suggests.

"Or tell the truth." Andrea says, leaving no room for argument, "Merle was out of control. Something had to be done, or he would've gotten us killed."

Andrea turns to Lori, "Your husband did what was necessary. And if Merle got left behind, it is nobody's fault but Merle's."

"And that's what we tell Daryl?" Dale asks with concern, "I don't see a rational discussion to be had from that, do you?"

Andrea shakes her head.

"Word to the wise," Dale continues, "We're gonna have our hands full when he gets back from his hunt."

"I was scared and I ran." T-Dog starts, "I'm not ashamed of it." "We were all scared. We all ran. What's your point?" Andrea asks.

"I stopped long enough to chain that door. Staircase is narrow. Maybe half a dozen geeks can squeeze against it at any one time. It's not enough to break through that. Not that chain, not that padlock. My point: Dixon's alive."

Taglist:

@kookiekult @smutinlove @far-cry-from-finality @zomb-1-egutzz

@shadowybasementmiracle @vaniniweenie @sleep-queen

@frankcastleautism @hisdahlia @carlslvr @zzombiegirl

@lunarnightt @carlmipololo @herrera2k @txrasbae

@a-vampire-bat @coveofthesiren @deathswrld

[bteezxyewriter12]

Desperation

Pairing- Wooyoung x Named Reader

Word count- 4k

Includes- Wooyoung is horny and desperate, pussy eating, cum eating, cock warming, cock riding, missionary, multiple orgasms, so much fluff

Tag List- @mingtina @jaxminnie @yeosayang @delightfulmoonbanana @tannie13 @y00nzin0 @marsstarxhwa

@yeosxxx @seokwoosmole @jjongsbebe @wisejudgedragonhairdo @meowmeowminnie @woo-stars @borntowalkaway @usagionthered @san-realblkwife @seonghwasstar @jejeyeppeo @soulseobi05 @kpop-bambi @prayerofthehaim @realisticnotes @insomniacatiny @stephy-nicole13 @mknae-jongho @bykeynote @amyz78 @blueie-things

Masterlists- check out for more fics

📝Masterlists 📝ATEEZ Masterlist 📝Wooyoung Masterlist

J POV

"Please Jo, please", Wooyoung begs, looking at me with desperation, "Please can I have your cunt wrapped around my cock?"

Ok what the fuck?

This is so not what I was expecting when I came over to hang out

"Are you on crack?", I ask, genuinely confused

He's never expressed a desire to have sex with me

Ever

He's never even expressed any attraction to me so what the fuck is this?

"No I just....I can't cum", he whines, "I haven't been able to cum in like three months"

I raise my eyebrow, not believing him at all

He has many fuck buddies he can use

Staff members willingly open their legs for him at the drop of a hat

"You're telling me you haven't fucked anyone is three months?", I scoff

"I...I did but I wasn't able to cum", he tells me, "I don't know why. I stopped fucking other girls three months ago and just jerked off instead but it didn't work either"

"You've been jerking off your whole life, what do you mean it's not working?", I ask in disbelief, "You forgot how to move your hand?"

"It's not working!", he cries, his body shaking, "Please, I'm so hard, I'm so horny all the time. I need some relief. I'm going insane"

I just raise my eyebrows at how desperate he sounds

Like he's about to lose it

"Let me see", I say, not knowing what the fuck I'm doing or why

He nods, standing up from his bed and pulling his sweatpants and boxers down

I look down at his cock and gape

I had no idea he was that big

Or that thick

And I can see what he means when he's saying he's desperate

His cock is so hard, straining, his head red and leaking so much cum, it's just crying from his slit

I don't think I've ever seen a cock that hard before

"Please help me", he whimpers

"What am I supposed to do Woo?", I ask

"Just help me"

I hesitate, "A hand job?"

He shakes his head, "I need to be in a pussy. Your pussy"

I mean it's not as if I don't want that

It's not as if I haven't dreamed of this from the moment I fell in love with him

But this...this isn't him wanting me

This is him wanting to get off because he hasn't had a fuck partner in three months

This is him being desperate to cum and I'm the only one available

"Wooyoung-", I start, not sure I should do this

A hand job is one thing, hell even a blow job is one thing but actual sex....

"Please Jo", he begs, "I'll make you cum too. I'll eat your pussy first"

I raise my eyebrow

Yeah ok that's something I've been dying to see

Him between my legs

But still, this isn't a good idea

This will just make me want him more and I can't have him

"I don't know...", I hesitate

"You don't have to fuck me", he says, distress in his voice, "You...you could just cock warm me. I just...I need to feel a pussy around me"

"So call one of your girls to come over"

He shakes his head, "No. I need your pussy"

Mine?

What the hell does that mean?

"It didn't work with anyone else. I just...I want yours. See if it helps"

Well that's not romantic at all

But at least he's being up front about what he wants

"Please Jo? Please?"

"Yeah fine", I sigh

He nods, dropping to his knees, my heart racing

His fingers hook into my sweat pants, pulling them and my panties down

He helps me take off all my bottom clothes then his gaze moves to my cunt

"Pretty", he murmurs

Without warning he pulls me to him, his tongue buried and licking in my cunt

"Oooh...fff...", I stammer, pleasure exploding in my body

I move beside me, my hand leaning against the wall to keep myself from falling over

"Fuck, you taste so good" he groans, his tongue licking along my slit, between my pussy lips

Fuck, his tongue is so wet, so long, licking in a way he makes sure I can feel all of it

He moves one of my legs over his shoulder, his tongue sinking into my hole and I clench around it hard

"Mmm", he moans, pulling his tongue out then dipping back in

"Wooyoung fuck", I moan in bliss, my hand threading through his hair, the stands so soft around my fingers

One of his hands is around me, gripping my ass and squeezing as he tongue fucks me

I'm so wet, it has to be all over his face

That thought makes me blush hard, wondering if his face will be soaked when he's done and I'll see it

His tongue pulls out, sliding up and licking along my clit, using the flat of his tongue first, then moving it so the tip is massaging it

"Fuck", I cry, blinding pleasure making my body shake, "Fuck Woo. Yes baby"

As his tongue lavishes my clit in licks, his fingers push into my hole, wiggling around, making me shiver

"So fucking wet for me", he groans erotically

Just as soon as his fingers are there, they're gone

Then they're back, then out again

I don't know what he's doing but he does this a few more times, almost like he's getting his fingers or hand wet with my juice

He whines in my cunt, his mouth wrapping around my clit sucking desperately immediately

I shiver, my legs shaking at how fucking incredible it feels

Through the bliss, I hear a rhythmic wet sound, him groaning and moaning as he sucks on me

It sounds like he's jerking off

I look down to find him desperately slurping around my clit, his eyes closed like he's in heaven

Looking further down, I get so tuned on seeing that he is indeed jerking off

His hand is wrapped around his cock, stroking himself, the veins in his beautiful arm popping as he moves

His cock is glistening and I realize that he's using my pussy cream to jerk himself off

That's why he kept putting his fingers inside my cunt

He wanted to use my cream as lube

I will admit that turns me on like nothing else, making chills run up my spine

I watch him suck on me and jerk off, the bliss getting overwhelming

The next tug of my clit has me falling into my orgasm, intense pleasure exploding in my body as I cry out his name

"Wooyoung. Oh god, Wooyoung!"

His eyes open and are on mine instantly, watching me cum as he sucks me through it, his hand letting go of his dick and squeezing my ass, pushing me as close to his face as I can be

I can't, he's so fucking hot, it's mind boggling

As the pleasure fades, his eyes hold mine as his tongue moves down to my hole and slowly licks up

Pleasure enters his brown eyes as he moans, "Oh fuck, you taste so sweet princess"

His tongue keeps licking as he eats my cum, swallowing again and again

"So fucking good. God fucking damn"

I'm shocked as he cleans my pussy, not knowing what to say

When he finishes, he stands up and my face heats up at how wet his face is

His lips, his mouth, his chin and neck are glistening in my cum

He smirks, licking his lip then wiping his mouth, my legs wobbly

He takes his bottom clothes completely off then sits on his bed, half leaning on his headboard

"Please", he whimpers

"You...you didn't cum while you were jerking off?"

He shakes his head, "I told you it doesn't work. Please princess, sit on my cock. Please"

Well here goes nothing

Climbing in him, I get in his lap, him already holding his cock up for me

I'm really doing this

It's kinda surreal

Leaning on his shoulders, I lower down onto his head, taking him in, moans immediately spilling from his mouth

I push down, feeling his unbelievably hard thick cock forcing me open so pleasurably

He's so big it's almost like he's too big for me and I have to push down hard

"Fuck!", he yells, his head leaning back against the headboard, "So tight, oh my fucking god, so tight"

I go down slowly, my pussy getting wetter and clenching harder the more inches I take

He feels so fucking good, it's insane

"Oh my god, I'm gonna...", he cries as I slide down his cock more, "I'm gonna blow my load, I'm gonna-"

His nails dig into my hips as I feel his cock throb hard, warm cum shooting in my pussy as I keep taking his dick, his body shaking under me

I'm so shocked

He really just came from me getting him in

And he's not even fully in yet

"Joanne fuck, yes baby", he shouts, lifting his hips and sliding his cock fully inside me as he orgasms, "So good. Fuck so good"

I clench around him, whimpering as his head nestles against my spot, my pussy involuntarily throbbing around him

I feel so full of his cock, so full of his cum and it's completely satisfying

Of course, leave it to him to feel the best inside me

His body stills, his eyes opening, gazing on me

He lifts his hips again, like he's making sure he's buried in my pussy as deep as he can be

And what I feel is surprising

"Are you...", I say gaping, clenching purposely around him, "Still hard?"

He nods, his eyes on me as he breathes hard

"Fuck me. Please"

That really wasn't what this was supposed to happen

I was just supposed to cock warm him

"Woo-"

"Please. Please. Don't I feel good?"

"Yes", I admit

He does, he feels really good, stretching me out so satisfyingly, his fat head nestled against my spot

"Please fuck my cock", he whines, "You can cum too. Used me to cum. I...I need it. I need your pussy. I need you"

I gaze down into his eyes, seeing want swirled with desire and it turns me on more

I mean I'm already this far, fucking can't be much of a stretch

Maybe I need this

Maybe I just need to fuck him once and I can get over these feelings for him

Probably not, but I'm already sitting on his cock, I might as well go all the way

I nod and he smiles his beautiful smile that takes my breath away and it's so not fair

His hands move up from my hips, pushing my shirt up my body as he sits up

I move my arms through the sleeves, letting him take it off, followed by my bra then I get his shirt off

I gently push him back and get my first close up look of my best friend shirtless

And I choke on air

Broad muscular chest, abs cut into his stomach, the tattoo on his ribs so fucking sexy

I slide my hands slowly down his body, starting from his shoulders, to his chest then to his abs, just feeling how soft and warm his skin is

I move my fingers to his tattoo, slowly tracing the words, his skin shivering under my touch, making me smile softly

"Fuck", he murmurs and when I look up at him, he's biting his lip, looking at me like how I must be looking at him

Like I'm everything he's ever wanted

But that can't be right

He's probably just shocked at seeing me naked is all

It's then I noticed his hands moving all over my body, touching my hips, his fingers trailing up my body, running over my sides, making my skin tingle

He cups my boobs, softly squeezing, his thumbs running over my nipples making me wetter on his dick

"You're fucking beautiful", he murmurs, shocking the fuck out of me, "Fucking perfect"

I blush but remind myself that it's just because he's never seen me naked before

And the fact that he wouldn't tell me I'm ugly

Wooyoung can be dense but he's not mean

"You're beautiful Woo", I tell him, his eyes meeting mine, his cheeks turning pink

"Ride me?", he asks shyly

Which is completely the opposite of the way he acts around me

He's always loud, at times obnoxious, funny, confident

Never shy

It's something completely new

I just nod, putting my hands flat on his chest, then moving my legs, sliding up his cock

The drag of his dick feels so good, sending shivers up my spine, my pussy desperately clenching on him to keep him in

"Fuck", he whimpers, his eyes glued to my pussy

When I get to his head, I squeeze hard, then push down, the feeling of his cock opening me up so delicious

"Woo", I moan, bottoming him out, his head rubbing my spot, making my body shudder

I move slowly at first, up and down his length, moving just a bit faster with each bounce

"Yes baby. Feels so good", he groans, his hands gripping my hips hard

I get a good pace going, bouncing on his extremely hard dick, enjoying the way he feels moving in my pussy

I slide my hands down to his abs, leaning on them as I slip up and down, moving my hips in a circle as I take him all in, grinding on his head

Each rub of his head against my spot zaps bliss and lightening up my spine and I can't help but softly moan his name often

"Wooyoung"

I increase my speed, leaning back on his legs, throwing my head back the more the bliss gets

"Fuck, I didn't know you knew how to ride cock", he murmurs, watching me move on him

I nod, "Yeah, I do"

Most guys are terrible at getting me to cum so I always ride them after a few other positions to make sure I cum too

I've gotten very good at it

"This pussy is so pretty, swallowing my cock like this", he whimpers, "So fucking wet, creaming my cock so fucking much. I didn't know a pussy could cream like this"

"Do you like it?", I ask, closing my eyes, falling into the pleasure he's giving me, my pussy spasming around him harder

"Love it", he answers, "Are you always this wet?"

I shake my head, "Not this much"

I do get wet but I'm completely drenched now, so much so that the squelching sound my pussy is making as I fuck his cock is so fucking loud

It's never been this loud before

"It's just for me?"

I nod, "Yeah Woo. You make me this wet. You make me this turned on"

"Fuck", he murmurs, my cunt choking the life from his cock

I'm so close, just a few more bounces

"Woo, I'm gonna cum", I mumble, moving my legs as fast as I can, riding him like I've never ridden anyone before

"Please cum", he begs quietly, "Wanna feel you cum so bad"

His begging with the next bounce does it and I explode all over his cock, shouting his name, the ecstasy washing over me

"Wooyoung", I moan, not knowing which way is up

All I can do is ride the pleasure, my hips rocking on his cock, his head massaging my spot and keeping me in bliss longer

"Yes, oh fuck, you feel so good! Princess I can't...it feels...fuck", he chokes out, pushing his hips up, making sure he's buried deep inside me

My whole body shakes and I have to lean forward, my hands on his abs as I ride it out on his amazing cock

As the pleasure slowly leaves, I slow down my rocking until I'm finished, so out of breath

That was a fucking amazing orgasm

Before I can say anything, he sits up, pulls me against him and rolls us over

He moves on top of me, my legs moving around his waist on their own, his soft, warm, sweaty skin against mine

It feels so fucking good

He looks down at me with an unreadable expression as he gazes into my eyes

I can't tear my gaze from his intense one, wondering what he's thinking

His finger runs along my cheek as he leans down, his lips capturing mine in a mind altering kiss

My entire body floods with fire, every atom alight and awake

I feel dizzy, my head spinning as I kiss him back, never wanting it to end

My arms move around his neck, holding him close as he pushes his cock back inside me

Burying inside in one stroke, he grinds against me as his tongue moves in my mouth, deepening the kiss

I'm in total heaven, never wanting this to end

He kisses me silly, his hips pulling back, the drag of his cock sending tingles up my spine

He snaps his hips forward, his cock sliding back in, the tip rubbing my spot

I moan in his mouth, clenching on his dick tightly

As he moves, he makes sure he goes in deep, his pelvis rubbing my clit, sending stars into my vision

His arm leans next to my head, his other hand softly playing with my boobs as he thrusts faster

His lips separate from mine but I shake my head, my hand moving to his cheek, "No Woo, kiss me. Don't stop"

He smiles softly, his smile so fucking dazzling, then his lips are back on mine, kissing me passionately

I begin moving my hips, meeting his thrusts, my arms wrapping around him, my hands on his strong back

His muscles move under my palms, his skin soft and sweaty

It does nothing but turn me on more

We move together, my legs tightening around his waist as the pleasure becomes more and more

We both moan, clinging onto each other and I never want this to stop

I want to keep his warm sweaty skin against mine, want to keep running my fingers in his soft hair, keep his lips against mine

That would be my dream come true

"Princess", he murmurs between kisses, his hand taking one of my hands, lacing our fingers and holding my hand firmly, "Princess, fuck, so good"

"So good Woo", I agree, kissing him, the feeling of his hand in mine so right

His cock plunges in and out, the feel driving me crazy, the bliss almost too much

I'm close, my pussy gripping and choking his length

"You're gonna make me cum princess", he groans breaking the kiss, his face moving into my neck, his hips rolling into mine, plunging his cock in at a dizzying speed, "Oh fuck, you're gonna make me cum"

"Wooyoung", I cry, ecstasy crashing over me as another mind blowing orgasm over takes me

I can't think, I can't tell which way is up, all I know is I'm in incredible pleasure, screaming his name

His hips fuck harder into me as I cum, yelling, "I'm coming. Fuck, princess, I'm coming, fuck!"

His cock barrels in, throbbing hard as his warm cum fills me for a second time, his hips pressing against mine, keeping his length inside me

My pussy can't help but pulse around him, milking his cock for all his cum

"Yes, Wooyoung, fuck", I moan as he moans, "Joanne, princess, so good baby, fuck, fuck, fuck"

I finish first, coming back down to earth, holding him as he finishes, running my fingers in his hair and kissing his shoulder

He shivers against me, lifting his head, his gorgeous brown eyes on mine through his wet sweaty hair

He smiles, then leans down, kissing me so softly and in this moment I'm utterly happy

He moves off me, laying down next to me, cuddling into me, his face nuzzling in my neck and I'm surprised

I thought he'd just get up and want to hang like nothing happened

"Mmm princess", he murmurs, his arms wrapping around me, holding me firmly against him and I just can't help but turn into his embrace, snuggling into him too

If he wants to cuddle, I'm going to take it

He sighs contently against my neck, his fingers running in my hair and it feels so good

"Baby", he sighs, "I love you"

I stop breathing, wondering if he knows what he's saying

Wondering if he's joking

Wondering if he knows he just upended my world

"Princess?", he says, a nervous tick to his voice

"Woo...what...what are you doing?", I ask

"I don't understand-", he starts

"Are you playing a joke on me?", I ask quietly, hoping he's not because that would be unforgivable, "Are you just saying-"

"No!", he exclaims, lifting his head, his eyes on mine, "I'm not playing a joke! I would never do that"

"So...you...mean you actually....", I trial off, almost afraid to believe it

"Love you?", he asks, his fingers trailing down my cheek softly, "Yeah Jo, I'm stupidly in love with you"

My heart skips a beat, it taking a few seconds for it to sink in

"Yeah...why do you think I was begging it to be you?", he asks softly, "If I wanted to fuck, I could of gone to the club and picked any girl. I could of called any fuck buddy like you suggested"

I mean yes, he could have

"I just...I couldn't be with anyone else. Anytime I tried, I just wanted you, kept thinking about you and my dick...wouldn't work with anyone else. I couldn't get hard with anyone else. And if I did...I didn't stay hard long enough for sex"

My eyes widen at that

He's never had a problem fucking anyone else before

"I'd just....lost interest because it wasn't you"

"You're kidding", I gape

He shakes his head, "No princess. Once I realized I love you, no other girl did it for me or held my interest. And yeah while I was desperate tonight, I wanted just you. I knew it would only work with you. It had to be you"

Me

I'd have never thought it would be me

Or it'd be more than sex

"I just...I didn't know how to tell you", he says shyly, breaking eye contact and looking down, "And right now, having you in my arms, finally cuddling with me, it felt right and I just said it"

I lift his face to mine, stroking his cheek softly, looking into his eyes

"I love you Wooyoung", I tell him, his eyes widening as a smile forms on his face, "I have been in love with you for so long you don't even know. I thought you'd never see me"

He shakes his head, "I did see you princess. I just didn't know how to tell you how I felt until tonight"

I smile, "I'm glad you did baby. All I ever wanted was you"

"You have me princess", he assures me

"You have me baby", I tell him, "I love you"

"I love you baby", he whispers, his lips against mine in a sweet loving kiss and I melt into him

After, we settled back in each other's arms under his blanket, my fingers running in his hair

"Mmmm princess", he coos, against my neck, "Tomorrow I have a photo shoot. You're coming with me right? I know you don't have work tomorrow"

I giggle, "Yeah baby, I'll come with you"

"Mm hmm. And you'll come to more performances? I need my girlfriend watching me on stage and waiting backstage for me to shower me in kisses and tell me how good I did"

I laugh, kissing his soft lips, "Of course my high maintenance baby"

"And I need to be with you every night, to see you and fuck you and cuddle you and tell you I love you and sleep with you in my arms", he continues, "It's non-negotiable"

I smile, so fucking happy, "That can definitely be arranged baby"

"Good", he says, snuggling closer, "We can start tonight. You're staying with me"

"Yes sir", I laugh, holding him tighter

"I love you princess", he whispers, kissing my neck

"I love you baby", I answer

I close my eyes, ready to fall asleep in my best friend and boyfriend's arms

[unconventional-lawnchair]

In the Space Between {Chapter One}

Barty Crouch Jr. x Reader

Wc: 4264

Masterlist

<--Prev/Next-->

The morning sun filtered softly through the high windows of the Gryffindor dormitory, casting a warm glow over the scarlet and gold-draped room. You blinked awake, feeling an odd, heavy warmth in your chest, like you’d left something important behind in a dream you couldn’t quite remember. The feeling lingered just out of reach, fading the longer you stayed awake.

Hermione’s voice called out from the other side of the room. “Come on, rise and shine! Breakfast’s starting soon, and I promised we’d all go together. You too, no skiving off!” She grinned, looking far too awake already.

You sat up, rubbing your eyes and letting a smile tug at your lips despite the weight of that strange, forgotten feeling. “Alright, alright, I’m up!” You mumbled, tossing back your blankets.

Hermione laughed, flicking through her books as she hummed to herself. “You and your lie-ins. Just try to look halfway prepared today, yeah? Double Potions isn’t exactly forgiving.”

Ron poked his head around the doorway, his hair a mess as he blinked at you all. “Did someone say Potions? Blimey, it’s too early to be thinking about Snape.”

Just then, Luna drifted in from the direction of Hermione’s bed, her dreamy smile widening when she saw you all together. “Good morning,” she greeted in her usual soft voice, moving over and flopping onto your bed without any hesitation. She curled up beside you, her blue pajamas a sharp contrast against the red bedspread, her expression blissful as if this was the most natural thing in the world. “There is a new lesson in herbology today. There’s supposed to be a new herb that clears out lingering dreams- should be done by the end of the week,” she added, her voice almost a whisper. “It’s lovely for anyone who’s just woken from a long journey.”

You felt a strange pang at her words, a hint of something forgotten. You glanced at her, only to see her looking right through you, as if she understood something no one else could.

Harry’s voice came from the hall. “You lot coming, or are we leaving you behind till lunch?” He sounded exasperated, though you could imagine the half-smile on his face as he teased.

“Like we’d let that happen.” Draco’s cool tone followed as he appeared behind Ron, a smirk on his face. “Already enough to be late for breakfast once a week thanks to this lot.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, nudging you with a grin. “Alright, get a move on! Merlin knows we’ve got to keep you lot on schedule.”

Luna let out a soft laugh, stretching as she finally slid off your bed, though she didn’t look in any hurry. “It’s much too early to be moving this fast, isn’t it?” She said dreamily, though she let Hermione guide her towards the door.

Ron gave a lazy salute. “Right, let’s get this over with. Though if anyone’s got a plan to dodge Snape today, I’m all ears.”

You grinned, sliding out of bed and joining the group as you headed down the staircase, feeling the warmth of their banter easing that odd feeling from earlier. It felt good to be here, surrounded by friends, an affection bubbling in your chest- like seeing the school after a summer vacation. And though you couldn’t shake the faint ache of something missing, their voices wrapped around you, bringing you fully back into the present.

~~~

Potions was, without a doubt, your Achilles’ heel. So when you stepped into the chilly dungeon classroom, early morning fog still clinging to your mind, and saw Amortentia scrawled across the board in Snape’s distinctive, sharp handwriting, your heart sank. Great. The one potion you were least equipped to tackle, first thing in the morning.

You slid into a seat between Harry and Hermione, noticing that the class was buzzing with a mix of excitement and unease. Even Ron looked a bit apprehensive, his brow furrowing as he glanced at the board.

“Brilliant. Love potion on a Monday morning,” Harry muttered, casting a wary glance at the other students who seemed to be eyeing the cauldron at the front with barely contained curiosity.

“Snape must be having a laugh,” Ron grumbled, eyeing the cauldron suspiciously, as though it might explode at any moment.

Hermione rolled her eyes and shot you a sympathetic look. “Amortentia is only tricky if you don’t follow the instructions precisely,” She mused, her tone reassuring. “Just…don’t rush it. It’s all about control.”

You gave her a faint smile, but your stomach was twisting. Potions required precision, focus- qualities that always seemed to elude you in this particular subject. Especially today. But it wasn’t just the potion itself that unsettled you; it was the idea of smelling what you were drawn to, what you loved. What if it revealed something you weren’t ready to confront?

Luna, who had seated herself across from you, gave you an encouraging smile. “I think it will be fascinating.” She said airily. “They say you’ll smell exactly what your heart desires, even things you didn’t know yourself.”

Draco, leaning back in his seat with a smirk, raised an eyebrow at her. “That’s the bit that worries me, actually.”

Snape swept into the room then, his robes billowing as he moved to the front, dark eyes surveying the class with his usual disdain. “Today, we’ll be brewing Amortentia.” He began, his tone cold. “The most powerful love potion in existence. When complete, the potion should smell unique to each of you, revealing what it is that draws you most. But be warned: missteps will not be tolerated.”

A ripple of nervous energy moved through the room, and you felt Hermione nudge you encouragingly. “You’ve got this.”

Taking a steadying breath, you leaned over your cauldron and began measuring out ingredients, keeping Snape’s warning firmly in mind. Then, a sudden odd calm overtook you. The smell of the iron cast cauldron and sterile humidity was, for once, a comfort.

As if on autopilot, you moved with a confidence that felt foreign, almost like muscle memory. You didn’t look at the instructions on the board or consult your textbook; instead, your hands worked instinctively, as if you’d done this a hundred times before. You reached for the vial of rose thorns and added them with a precise flick of your wrist.

Harry shot you a bewildered look. “Rose thorns? Isn’t that step five?”

You barely heard him, pouring a measured amount of moonstone dust with a steady hand. Your movements felt natural, even practiced. You added a few crushed lavender blossoms, a pinch of asphodel root- ingredients you hadn’t even seen listed on the board.

Hermione watched with wide eyes, glancing between your cauldron and her textbook. “That’s…that’s not in the instructions.” She whispered, sounding half-intrigued and half-concerned. “Where did you learn this?”

You blinked, as if coming out of a trance, but the recipe seemed to be etched into your mind. “I… don’t know. It just feels right.”

Draco, a few seats down, had been watching with narrowed eyes, his usual calm demeanor wavering. “Not that I’m questioning your creative interpretation.” He drawled, though his tone was edged with unease, “but are you sure about that?”

Your hands paused only for a moment before you stirred the mixture counterclockwise, then clockwise, creating a swirl of shimmering, mother-of-pearl liquid that looked strikingly different from everyone else’s.

“It just… makes sense,” You said softly, your voice trailing off as you realized how strange it sounded. You didn’t know why, but every step had felt so certain, like a memory lodged deep within you.

The room filled with the faint scent of your potion, unique and heady, drawing a few curious glances from the tables around you. Hermione bit her lip, clearly trying to hide her fascination. “It’s… actually perfect,” She murmured, looking both impressed and mystified.

Snape drifted past, eyeing your potion with an inscrutable look as he paused, his dark gaze flicking between the shimmering liquid and your expression. He gave no comment, but the faintest crease in his brow hinted at surprise.

As he moved on, you couldn’t help but feel a strange mixture of pride and bewilderment. How could you possibly know the recipe by heart?

“Someone's got a hidden talent.” Luna murmured with a smile, her voice soft but carrying a hint of admiration.

“You think so, Panda?” You blinked, the name slipping out of your mouth before you’d even realized it. Panda? Pandora. The word hung between you and Luna, as if plucked from somewhere deep in your mind, an old memory that didn't belong. Your heart clenched painfully, and for a moment, you could almost picture another face across from you, one that looked strangely like Luna's but… different.

Luna’s gaze softened, her dreamy smile unwavering. She seemed unfazed, as if she knew something you didn’t, or perhaps as if she was used to these strange slips from you. Her voice was as gentle as ever. “I do. What's it smell like?”

You inhaled, leaning closer to the shimmering surface of the potion, and the scents wafted up, filling the air around you with an overwhelming warmth. Familiar, somehow- a mix of crisp parchment, wild lavender, and something else, something faintly smoky and musky, like an autumn bonfire on a cold night. The scents tugged at your heart, achingly familiar, even though you couldn’t place why.

“It’s…” You started, trailing off, struggling to put the feeling into words. “It smells like… Ron’s mums biscuits. Like wet grass.” You started, furrowing your brow. “Rain water. Cedar and.. cancer sticks- Cologne?” You scoffed and rubbed your temple. You didn't know a single soul who smoked. “Maybe I didn't do it right. I don't know anyone who wears cologne like that.”

Luna tilted her head, her eyes twinkling with that familiar, knowing look. “Perhaps it’s not about who you know now, but who your heart remembers,” She murmured softly, her voice laced with a kind of wisdom that always seemed far beyond her years. “Amortentia doesn’t lie, you know. Sometimes it just shows us what we haven’t quite found yet.”

You frowned, trying to make sense of the scents that seemed so contradictory yet so vivid. Ron’s mum’s biscuits you could understand- home, warmth, safety. But the rain water and cedar, the smokes and old cologne… they felt like puzzle pieces that didn’t quite fit.

Hermione leaned over, her curiosity evident. “Rainwater and cedar? That’s… peculiar, isn’t it? And who even smokes anymore?”

You shrugged, feeling a strange frustration bubble up, though you couldn’t place why. “Yeah, maybe my mind’s just making things up. Such strong cologne. Ive never even smelled it in my life.”

Harry gave you a gentle nudge, trying to bring back some lightness. “Or maybe there’s some mysterious figure out there just waiting for you. A dashing, smoke-scented wizard, who knows?”

You rolled your eyes, laughing it off, but the strange ache lingered. The scents tugged at you, like a half-forgotten melody that you couldn’t shake. And though you forced a smile, that smoky cologne and cedar clung to your senses, leaving an imprint in your mind that felt more like a memory than a fantasy.

~~~

The Great Hall buzzed with the familiar chatter of students, the clinking of silverware, and the smell of roast chicken and pumpkin pasties. You sat wedged between Hermione and Ron, laughter bubbling up as they recounted the day’s ridiculousness in Herbology. Across from you, Harry leaned in, a small grin tugging at his lips as he listened, his gaze shifting between his friends, glowing with that easy warmth you’d come to rely on.

You joined in, laughing as Hermione teased Ron about his haphazard attempt to repot a Fanged Geranium. But as you glanced over at Harry, something felt… off. Your vision blurred, just for a second, as if the flickering candlelight was casting strange shadows across his face.

And then, as quickly as it began, the scene shifted. Harry was no longer the boy you knew- the easygoing smile vanished, replaced by a solemn expression. You blinked, and there it was: a lightning-shaped scar, faint yet unmistakable, cutting across his forehead. His eyes looked haunted, shadowed by something dark, something hollow.

The room around you faded, and suddenly, the cheerful laughter of your friends seemed distant, muffled, like hearing them from underwater. You could only see Harry’s face, that scar, as vivid and strange as if he’d been marked by something terrible.

“Oi, you alright?” Ron’s voice cut through the haze, grounding you. He was staring at you with a furrowed brow, his expression tinged with worry. “You’ve gone all pale.”

You blinked, shaking your head to clear the fog, and the scar was gone. Harry was back to himself, looking at you with a hint of concern now.

“I’m fine,” you managed, forcing a smile that felt oddly heavy. “Just… zoned out for a moment.”

Hermione leaned closer, her hand resting on your arm. “You sure? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Or about to become one.” Draco murmured from beside Harry.

You shrugged, trying to brush it off, but the image of Harry with that scar lingered in your mind, like an imprint. “Yeah, I… I guess I’m just tired.”

As the others returned to their conversation, you found yourself stealing glances at Harry, half-expecting the scar to reappear, to catch a glimpse of that haunted look in his eyes. But he was back to being Harry, your friend, the same boy who always had your back.

You tried to shake off the lingering discomfort, focusing instead on the familiar warmth of the Great Hall. The laughter, the clinking of goblets, the buzz of students- all the sounds you’d come to know by heart, grounding you in the present. But the nagging feeling wouldn’t let go, clawing at the back of your mind, as though something crucial was slipping further away with each passing second.

Your gaze drifted back to Luna, who sat with her usual serene smile, as if the world and all its mysteries were an open book to her. She was laughing at something Cho said, a light, airy sound that echoed in your ears. And just as you looked over, she tilted her head, catching your eye like she’d been waiting for you to notice her.

There was a strange intensity in her gaze, a knowing spark that made your heart stutter. Luna’s smile softened, almost as if she could sense the disquiet settling around you, the confusion clouding your thoughts. It was a simple gesture, that small smile, but it held a kind of understanding you couldn’t quite place.

You returned her smile, though yours was thin, forced, as if the very act of smiling felt wrong in that moment. There was a voice in your mind, faint but persistent, whispering that this wasn’t right- that there was something more you needed to remember, something hidden just beyond the edges of your thoughts.

“What’s up with you?” Hermione’s voice broke through the fog, snapping you back to the present. She was watching you with a mix of curiosity and concern, her hand hovering near yours.

“Nothing, just… thinking, I guess.” You forced a chuckle, shrugging it off, but even you could hear the tremor in your voice.

Hermione studied you, her brows furrowing. “You’re acting a bit strange, you know. More than usual.”

Before you could answer, Harry leaned in, trying to catch your eye. “You sure you’re alright? You don’t seem like yourself.”

“I’m fine.” You replied quickly, perhaps too quickly. The words felt hollow, the lie brittle on your tongue.

But even as they returned to their conversation, you could still feel Luna’s gaze from across the room, watching you, patient and knowing, as if she understood something about you that you didn’t. And that look of hers sent a shiver through you- a sense that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t alone in this feeling, that someone else sensed the fractured pieces of a memory slipping through your fingers.

“I think I'm going to go to sleep.” You muttered as you stood. Your friends saying their goodbyes but you felt further from their muffling voices then ever before.

What was happening?

~~~

You padded quietly back to your dorm, your steps slow, each one feeling heavier than the last. The dimly lit corridor was unusually silent, the only sound a faint, echoing drip from a nearby leaky drain. The hum of the Great Hall still buzzed faintly in your ears, but there was something unsettling about how disconnected it all felt- as if you’d been watching it from the outside.

Finally reaching your dorm, you pushed open the door, the familiar space greeting you like a sterile vacuum. The room was quiet, bathed in the cool silver light spilling through the window. You let out a sigh, pressing your back against the door as you shut your eyes, hoping to push away the lingering strangeness that had followed you all day.

But before you could sink further into your thoughts, a loud thud at the door jolted you upright. You jumped back just in time as Draco, Luna, and Hermione stumbled into the room, each with their own mixture of determination and curiosity painted across their faces.

“Hope you weren’t planning on sulking alone tonight.” Draco smirked, recovering his balance and straightening his robes as though he hadn’t just practically broken down your door.

Hermione shook her head, smiling softly as she crossed her arms. “We thought maybe you could use some company. You’ve been… well, distant. And I know you, you never just ‘need sleep,’” she added with a knowing glance.

Luna drifted in last, her serene expression as dreamy as ever. “I think it’s perfectly alright to feel a bit lost sometimes. But it’s even better to have friends to help find you again.” Her voice was soft, like a whisper of comfort.

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Alright, alright,” you relented, moving to sit on your bed. “I suppose I can let you all hover over me for a bit. I didn’t realize I was acting that strange.” The lie came off more naturally then you were used to. You typically never did, seeing as Hermione and Luna could typically see through you like a window.

Draco made himself comfortable on the edge of your bed, quirking an eyebrow as he nudged you. “You’re always strange, but today you seemed even stranger. And that’s saying something. Not quite Luna, though.”

You smacked his arm and laughed. “Coming from you, that’s practically a compliment.”

Luna seated herself on the rug, looking around the room as if she might find hidden secrets in the shadows. Hermione settled next to you, casting a sympathetic glance in your direction.

“So,” Hermione began, drumming her hands against her legs, her tone gentle, “Are you going to tell us what’s really going on?”

You hesitated, glancing around at each of them. “I don’t know, it’s hard to explain. Today… everything just felt… off.”

“Off how?” Draco asked, his gaze sharpening, his usual air of detachment replaced by genuine curiosity.

“I’m not sure.” You sighed, running a hand through your hair, earning a chort from Draco and an almost fond sigh from Luna. “It’s like I can’t shake the feeling that… that I’ve forgotten something. Or someone. I keep seeing things that don’t make sense. I keep seeing…” You trailed off, shaking your head. “It’s silly.”

Luna tilted her head, watching you with that intense, knowing gaze of hers. “Sometimes, the heart wants us to remember things the mind has forgotten.” She said softly, her voice almost a murmur. “And memories… they have a way of slipping through when they’re needed most.”

You gave a small, wavering smile. “You always say the strangest things, Panda.”

Draco’s eyebrows shot up, his mouth opening in surprise as he turned to you. “Panda?”

You froze, blinking as the name slipped from your mouth. “I-I mean, Luna. Sorry. I don’t know why I keep saying that.”

Draco narrowed his eyes, looking at you as if he’d just uncovered some hidden secret. “Panda?” He echoed, his tone half-amused, half-puzzled.

Luna only smiled, unbothered, as if the name felt perfectly natural. “I don’t mind. I just think you miss her.”

All eyes snapped to her momentarily. Luna was still smiling up at you three listlessly, your expressions varying levels of alarm.

Hermione was the first to finally ask, her voice hesitant. “... who, Luna?”

“Well, Panda, of course. Not quite sure who she is, but your Wackspurts are rather discombobulated. Confused, whispering names I'm not familiar with.”

There was a long pause before you leaned forward on your seat, holding onto this small sense of clarity like a lifeline. “What.. what are the names, Luna?”

“I don't know..” She mumbled. “But I think you do. Right?”

The room fell into a still silence as everyone absorbed Luna’s observation. It was clear, that you knew names of people you had never met. You could see it, her calm gaze drifting from one of you to the next. Her usual dreamy demeanor was laced with a startling clarity, like she saw beyond the obvious, into something hidden just beneath the surface.

“Discombobulated wackspurts…” Draco repeated slowly, his eyes narrowing as he shot you a look. “Leave it to Lovegood to make a mystery even more confusing.”

Hermione pursed her lips thoughtfully, her hand drifting to rest on your shoulder. “It’s not like you to say things that don’t make sense- not to yourself, anyway. Maybe… maybe this ‘Panda’ is someone you’re forgetting?”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the words didn’t come. Instead, a sense of longing tugged at your chest, like a half-remembered dream slipping through your fingers.

Luna tilted her head, watching you with soft eyes. “It’s alright if you can’t remember right now. Sometimes, memories hide until we’re ready to see them again. They’re like stars,” She murmured, gesturing up as if she could see constellations above. “Not always visible, but always there. Even when they flicker.”

Flickering stars?

You managed a smile, feeling oddly comforted by her words. “So, what do I do then? Just… wait until it comes back?”

Draco rolled his eyes, but his expression softened as he nudged you lightly. “Or, you know, you could take an approach much more suited to us. Hunt down whatever’s lurking in that head of yours until it coughs up some answers.”

Hermione smiled, giving you an encouraging look. “Maybe a bit of both? Luna might be right; perhaps you just need time. But if you’re really curious, there might be a way to bring it back a bit sooner.”

Luna’s eyes sparkled with a quiet excitement. “Yes! There’s a potion for that, actually. My mum used to talk about it, said I'd do good to remember it. A memory draught, something to coax out memories hidden by time or… even by magic. It's quite a handful to brew.”

Draco smirked, leaning back against the headboard. “Well, then, sounds like we have ourselves a little project. You game, mystery girl?”

You looked around at the three of them, feeling a warmth spread through you despite the lingering confusion. It was as if you weren’t alone in this- like whatever secrets hid in your heart, you had friends willing to help uncover them.

“Alright,” You said softly, nodding. “Let’s find out what- or who- I’m missing. Just.. let's not tell Harry or Ron yet, yeah?”

“Why not?” Draco furrowed his brow, a flash of defensiveness crossing his eyes at the mention of Harry. You should've known he'd question you, him and Draco were practically brothers. What could you tell him? The truth? The image of him in the Great Hall that was burned into the back of your mind? Such intense sorrow?

"Because I don’t want them to worry- not yet, anyway," You muttered, trying to keep your voice steady, though even you could feel the underlying tremor. "Ron'll just hover and ask a million questions, and right now, I just… I just need to understand what’s happening before they get involved. Harry.. oh, he may turn over the whole school; he's not exactly subtle. He means well, but..."

"You know how he is about us." Hermione finished with a small smile, putting her hand over yours. "He'd sooner see the school crumble than know we were aching."

Draco didn’t look entirely convinced, but he nodded, glancing over at Hermione, who offered a reassuring smile. “We’ll keep it to ourselves, at least for now. But we’ll be here for whatever you need.”

Luna reached out, resting a gentle hand on yours. “If memories are hidden, then perhaps we’re meant to find them together.” Her eyes sparkled with her usual dreaminess but held a warmth that was grounding. Together. Something about the way she said that made your heart ache. “Maybe it’s no accident that you have us to help.”

The weight of her words hung in the air, filling you with a strange comfort. This wasn’t a journey you were taking alone. Whatever lay hidden in the corners of your mind, whatever was flickering just beyond reach, you had friends who would walk that path with you.

"So, when do we start?" Draco asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes, as if the whole situation was a puzzle he was more than ready to unravel.

Hermione grinned, the academic excitement brightening her face. “We’ll have to brew the memory draught first, which means gathering a few… shall we say… less-than-common ingredients.”

Draco leaned in closer, smirking. “Sounds like a Slytherin's specialty. Snape won't ever know we were there."

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound breaking through the tension. “Alright, looks like we’ve got ourselves a plan.” You looked around at them all, feeling an unspoken promise hanging in the air. Whatever secrets your heart and mind held, you’d face them together, one hidden memory at a time.

Taglist: @bmyva1entine

[vodika-vibes]

Hard Times

Summary: You’ve been hiding your problems from Jesse, he has so many things to worry about already and you don’t want to add to his problems. Only, he’s coming home and you’re not sure you can hide this from him.

Pairing: ARC Trooper Jesse x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1266

Warnings: Nightmares, Reader is having prophetic dreams about order 66

A/N: Do I have over 80 requests sitting in my inbox? Yes, yes I do. Did I want to write this instead? Yes, yes I did. Anyway, happy reading!

Click HERE to be added to my taglist

You’re glad Jesse is home.

Sure, he has a few more scars than he did when he left. And sure, his armor is a little more dinged up, a little more worn in some places, but he’s here and he’s alive and you’re so happy about it that you cried when you saw him.

His first day back is always a little strained. 

It takes time for him to decompress from being on the ship, but a good meal and a hot shower do wonders. Plus, he can pull you in for a hug or a kiss, and every time he does you can feel the tension draining from his body.

And when he lays next to you in bed, his arms secure around you and his face pressed into your hair, he falls asleep in a matter of moments. 

You wonder if it makes you a horrible person that you resent him for that, a little.

You haven’t had a good night's sleep in weeks. Your nights are haunted by blood and screams and a cold that lingers even when you jolt awake from your nightmares. And, even after you wake up, your hands tremble for hours after the fact, and some nights you even have to throw up, the dreams are so bad.

So that’s where you find yourself. Safely wrapped in Jesse’s arms, eyes burning from how tired you are, and exhausted down to your bones. But too afraid of your dreams to actually fall asleep.

Honestly, you're surprised that he didn’t clock your exhaustion when he showed up this morning. Everyone else in your life has.

He’ll notice in the morning, you know. Jesse is stupidly observant when he’s not recovering from a long deployment. 

Jesse sighs in his sleep, his arms tightening around you as he pulls you closer. Almost as if you’re a beloved teddy bear. You turn your head to watch him sleep for a moment. 

He looks peaceful. Untroubled. As if the stress of his life doesn’t exist now that he’s here, in your bed. 

You have to fight the urge to brush your fingers across his cheek. Even a light touch will be enough to wake him up, and that’s the last thing you want right now.

How could you be afraid of anything with Jesse right here?

And slowly, without your permission, your eyes flutter closed as sleep claims you.

Cold. It’s so cold.

Lights dim, and then go out completely, drowning you in a sea of frigid darkness. Only a few dim lights remain, but they’re so far away. Too far away.

The more the lights go out, the colder it gets.

Is this how it ends? Is this how everything ends—

“Cyare! Wake up”

Your eyes snap out, and it takes you a moment to realize that you’re still safely in bed. Jesse’s hands are on your shoulders, and he looks worried, though the expression fades as your gaze meets his.

“Jess—” You’re trembling from the cold, it feels as if someone shoved ice into your bloodstream.

“You were having a nightmare,” He grabs a fleece from the end of the bed and drapes it over you, it won’t help. You know from experience, “Your temperature just dropped, are you okay?”

His hand presses against your cheek, and he frowns before he leans to the side table and grabs his comm, “I’m calling Kix. You’re like ice.”

“I’m okay,” Your tongue feels heavy and clumsy, “I’ll be alright when the sun rises.”

Jesse stares at you, unimpressed, “Yeah. No. I’m calling Kix.”

You sigh, and your gaze flickers to the chrono next to the bed. Four hours. You’ve only slept for four hours. Jesse moves out from under the covers, and you watch as he slips into the fresher, still listening to his brother. 

He returns with a thermometer and passes it to you.

You already know what it’s going to say, but you stick the small device under your tongue anyway. Your temperature is going to be edging towards hypothermic, but not so low that you’re actually in danger.

At least, that was what Spoogle told you when you started having these nightmares.

It beeps and you hand it back to Jesse, who dutifully reports the number to his brother. Whatever Kix says clearly bothers Jesse, based on the way his eyes narrow at you, and then he hangs up the comm.

“Jesse?”

“Kix says to get you into a warm shower. Not hot, but warm.”

“Jesse, I’m fine.”

He takes your hands, pulls you out of the bed, and tugs you towards the fresher, “Forgive me if I don’t believe you. Kix is on his way right now.”

“It was just a nightmare, Jesse. Really, I’ve been dealing with this for a month now.” 

His hands pause from where they’re tugging your sleep shirt off, and he pins you in place with a disappointed look, “Your temperature has been dropping like this every night for a month? And you didn’t see a doctor?”

“I…well…Spoogle said—”

He sighs and turns to start the water, “Babe, I love you but you’re such a dingbat sometimes.”

“Hey!”

“Your lips are blue.” He counters flatly, and then he turns and lifts you into the shower. The warm water burns against your icy skin, and you flinch out of the way.

Jesse’s frown deepens, and he turns the temperature down a little, “How’s that?”

Hesitantly you hold your arm under the water, and when the water doesn’t burn like fire, you step under the spray of water fully. “It’s better,” You admit, as the shivering starts to slowly subside.

“Good.” He scans you for a moment, “So, these nightmares. What are they about?” Jesse asks as he props open the fresher door so he’ll be able to hear the doorbell when Kix arrives.

You shrug and fold your legs to sit on the floor of the shower. You’re too tired to stand, “I don’t remember the details. Just the cold, and the blood. And the dark.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

You’re quiet for a moment, and then you sigh, “You’re fighting a war, Jesse. I didn’t want to distract you.”

He sighs as well and crouches next to the tub, his hand coming out to press against your now-soaked hair, “I’d like it if you told me these things, cyare. We’re supposed to be partners.”

“Sorry.”

“I forgive you.” His hand moves to cup your cheek.

“...I should get out of the shower before Kix gets here.”

“No.”

“...but I’m naked?”

Jesse huffs out a laugh, “It’s Kix, and he’s coming here in his capacity as a medic. I don’t think he’ll care that you’re naked.”

“Oh.”

Something softens on his face, “If it bothers you, though, then we can get you dressed before he gets here.”

You pause and then nod slowly, “I’d prefer that.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do.” His hand is still so gentle against you, that you sigh and lean into his touch.

“Love you, Jesse.”

“I know, cyare. I love you too.” He runs his thumb across your lips, “The fact that you’re sick is probably why you’re having these nightmares. Kix will help.”

“...yeah.”

You know, somehow, that the dreams are warnings. But how are you supposed to say that? You’re no Jedi. You are just some lady from the lower levels who works as a translator. 

Maybe he’s right, though. Maybe your dreams aren’t a warning of something to come. But, if they get much worse, maybe you’ll ask Jesse to bring you to the temple.

Just in case.

@imabeautifulbutterfly

@n0vqni

@bad4amficideas

@justiceandwar98

@mira-loves-star-wars

@tiredbi-peach

@dukeoftheblackstar

@trixie2023

@kimiheartblade

@padawancat97

@falconfeather23435

@etod

@bb8-99

@kiss-anon

@continous-mistakes

@yoitsjay

@liz-stat

@cc--2224

@adriennelenoir

@cdblake1565

@sweater-sloot

@heidnspeak

@wax-birds

@silly-starfish

@lonewolflupe

@maniacalbooper

@rebell-ious

[whytheylosttheirminds]

blue sweater - r.c.

(season 4 bf!rafe x gf!reader blurb, 2.4k words)

content smut, p in v, this gorgeous man and his afformentioned blue sweater, 18+ minors do not interact!!

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You’d fallen asleep on the couch, waiting up for him again. You didn’t fault Rafe for working so hard, you just miss him so fucking much when he’s in back-to-back meetings all day. 

The couch dips below you, pulling you from your dreams. A large, warm presence settles next to you on the sofa. You didn’t have to open your eyes to know it’s him.

“Hey,” you mumble sleepily, eyes still closed.

He’s smirking down at you, you know him so well you can picture exactly how he looks without actually seeing him. 

“Hi,” he leans forward, planting a sweet kiss on your cheek. “I’m sorry, that last meeting ran so long.”

Finally opening your eyes to meet his, you’re almost startled by the sight. Somehow, in the dim evening light, they’re more deeply blue and beautiful than ever.

“Nice sweater,” you say, reaching up to run your fingers along the hard edge of his shoulder. Even though he looks so soft and pretty right now, he’s tense, and you wish you could ease the worry that furrows his brow.

He smiles knowingly, the skin at the corner of his eyes crinkling in the cute way that makes your heart ache for him.

“Thanks, my girlfriend got it for me.”

“She has good taste,” you joke as your run your hand gently up and down his bicep, the soft fabric such a contrast to the hard muscle below. 

“Yeah, she’s all kinds of good,” he winks.

“Then why’d you make her wait for you all night?” You pout, sticking out your bottom lip so he’d know you’re just teasing.

“I said I’m sorrrrry,” he whines as he leans over you more, adjusting to bring his legs onto the couch. You make room for him instinctually, his body fitting into yours like you were designed for each other. 

He lets his full weight down slowly, sinking you both deep into the cushions. Nuzzling his head into your neck, he drags his lips against the skin below your ear so gently, it sends goosebumps racing across your skin. He can feel your excitement and starts kissing you more firmly, leaving little wet spots up the column of your throat.

Your hands splay out over his big, firm back, rubbing circles into the tight muscles. You press deep, working out his stress, and he groans at your firm touch. Your hands work slowly down his back, pressing as you go. When you reach the hem of his sweater, you slip your hands underneath. Rafe flinches at your touch, a shudder running through him.

“Your hands are cold!” He exclaims, his voice muffled.

“Oh sorry, love!” you start to pull them away, but he reaches his arm behind him and pins your palms to his skin.

“No, it feels nice, don’t stop.”

You obey, the pads of your fingers digging little figure eights into his lower back, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“What’s got you so stressed baby, hmm?” You ask.

“Just got too much going on,” he shakes his head so his buzzed hair tickles your earlobe. You giggle at the sensation, his head rising and falling with the shake of your chest.

“Poor baby,” you coo, making him smile against you. “Just need a little help to relax?”

Rafe nods against you, moving slightly to lay his head against your chest so you can run your nails along his head like you know he likes. You bring one hand up, the other still under his shirt, the motion making you open your legs wider so you can stretch. He slots between them perfectly, and when you drag your nails over the fuzzy hairs right at the nape of his neck, you can feel him twitch against your core, already half hard.

“Someone’s needy,” you hum, delighted that you can make him so hot just by touching him tenderly like this. “Want me to make you forget all about your bad day?”

“Please,” he groans into your collarbone, pressing his hips down harder so you can feel him fully against you now. Your wetness pools immediately, soaking through your panties as you arch your back and return the pressure. 

“Shit, baby, that’s so nice,” he praises.

“‘I’ve been waiting for this all day,” you confess.

“Then we better not make you wait any longer.”

Swiftly, he lifts his head from your chest and finds your lips with his. It’s hungry and sloppy, the wet skin of his lower lip sliding against yours as your mouths collide. You’re fully grinding up into him now, and there is nothing semi-soft about him, his hard cock threatening to rip the seams of his pants. You writhe, desperate to feel his length. You know it like the back of your hand, picturing his perfect cock clearly as you rock against it. You’ve got every vein, every throbbing, pink inch memorized. 

“Take your pants off,” you breathe into his open mouth.

With a cocky grin that makes you impossibly wetter he drawls, “now who’s needy, huh?”

You roll your eyes and reach for his waistband, if he’s gonna be an ass about it you’ll just do it yourself. He mirrors you, undressing you with the same shaky fervor. Your shirt goes first, he’s delighted to see you’ve opted for no bra. In the cold evening air, your nipples harden immediately, and he can see the goosebumps spreading across your torso. 

“Ohh baby, you really are freezing.”

“Mhm,” you nod, lip pulled between your teeth. “Warm me up, Rafe.”

A throaty groan rises from his chest as he takes over your work on his pants, ripping them off as best he can without standing, his boxers following. You slip your thumbs under your shorts, doubling up to slide your panties down with them until you’re bare for him. Only one piece of clothing remains between you, the soft blue sweater you bought for him. He starts to pull it off, but you stop him, your hand wrapping around his wrist.

“No, leave it on,” you instruct.

“Whatever you want, angel,” he smirks at your unusual request, but obliges without complaint.

He lays down on you again, his lips hovering over yours as he lets his cock press into your inner thigh. He’s so hard you gasp, inhaling sharply at the sweet pressure against your leg. He kisses you again, more tenderly this time, like he’s trying to imprint the taste of you onto his tongue. As he lets his weight settle on you, the soft threads of his sweater rub over your sensitive nipples, the sensation making your eyes squeeze shut and a strained moan echo from your chest.

“Y’okay?” He asks.

“It feels so g-good,” you croak out.

“What does, baby?”

You blush, feeling silly for it, but something about the soft material against your hardened skin is so delicious, you’re sure your pussy is dripping onto the couch by now. 

A little embarrassed, you admit, “the sweater on my tits feels really good.”

“It does?” He questions, amused.

“Just stay on me baby, don’t stop.”

You and Rafe have been known to argue about almost anything, but he never argues when you tell him how to make you feel good. He flattens his chest against you fully, rutting his dick against your leg, causing his chest to rub against yours as requested. Your head falls back into the throw pillows. You let him continue to move you both until you almost can’t stand the friction anymore.

“I love that,” you whimper, eyes still squeezed shut. “But I need you inside.”

“Can’t wait any longer, huh?” He chuckles. Once again, you don’t need to see him to know what he looks like, his eyebrows are surely arched high and his lips quirked to the side as he looks at you in amusement.

“Rafe I’ve been waiting for like twelve hours,” you complain.

“I know, baby, I know,” he quells you. “I got you, alright?”

Propped on one arm, his sweater leaves your chest for a moment so he can line himself up at your soaked entrance. You wait with closed eyes, bracing for impact as you know it will take a minute to adjust to his size, it always does. But he doesn’t enter you, just grumbles with annoyance as he shuffles above you.

Your quizzical eyes open to find him fumbling with the collar of his sweater, preparing to pull it off.

“What’s the problem?”

“I want to see you, but this fucking sweater’s in the way,” he explains. You lift your head and look down to where your bodies should be meeting to see the hem of his sweater hanging in the way, blocking the view. “I’m just gonna take it off.”

“Nuh-uh!” you object. 

“Baby,” he whines.

A solution comes to you, causing you to break into a wide grin.

“Open up,” you say, and he’s never looked more confused.

But then, you reach down and pull the hem of the sweater between your fingers, making his stomach flinch as you brush against it. You lift the hem up to his mouth, revealing the sight of his dick dangerously close to your entrance. He puzzles it together, and teasingly rolls his eyes before letting you place it between his teeth. He bites down on it obediently, considering a protest before looking down to see he now has a perfect angle to his favorite sight in the world.

It feels so good when he finally slides in, stretching you so deliciously and filling you like only he can, that you almost actually cry. He moves gently, considerate enough to know there’s probably an edge of pain to your pleasure.

“You don’t have to go slow,” you assure him. “Take your stress out on me, I can take it.”

“Yeah?” He tries to sound cocky, but it’s muffled from the fabric between his teeth.

The way his jaw clenches in frustration makes you giggle. Rafe usually does most of the talking, knowing the sound of his low voice in your ear makes you come so much faster.

“I’ll do the talking, just focus on my voice while you fuck me, m’kay?” You purr.

He nods in agreement, picking up the pace until he’s rocking into you, continuously hitting the perfect spot that makes you both shudder with pleasure. He’s going so hard you have to lift your arm above you and steady yourself against the arm of the couch. His eyes flit between the sight of you taking him in so perfectly and the way your tits bounce with each thrust.

You keep your promise to talk him through it, starting with, “just like that, Rafe- mmmph- feels so good. God, I can feel you so deep.”

His brows furrow in concentration, thrusting harder, desperate to drag more praises from your kiss-chapped lips. Your eyes train on the veins in his neck, throbbing with effort. You reach your other hand up and grab his chin, pulling his face so his eyes pierce yours.

“Shit, you look so good, fucking me like you needed to,” you cry.

As much as he loves the eye-contact, he’s still wearing this stupid sweater for a reason, and he needs to remind you. He matches you by placing his hand on your face, soft but firm, and directing your gaze down to see him pistoning into you.

“Oh my god, that’s so hot,” you smile, admiring the creamy mess you’re making on his shaft. “You’re fucking covered in me, baby. Made me so wet comin’ in here looking this good.”

He removes his hand from your head, looking for a non-verbal way to thank you for your compliments. He presses his thumb to your tongue, and you don’t need words to know what he’s doing. You get it nice and wet, swirling spit around his thumb with your tongue. Once it’s ready, he lowers it to your clit, rubbing back and forth a few times before forming steady circles.

“Ah- fuck- yes, Rafe that’s so-” Your commitment to keep talking falters as pleasure floods your mind, robbing you of your voice.

He knows what you need, he always knows what you need. He pulls your hand from his chin and places it on his chest, you bunch the fabric of his sweater so he can release it from his teeth.

“There ya go,” he coos. “Need me to talk you through it, huh?”

You nod desperately, confirming what he already knew.

“Couldn’t even concentrate in my meetings,” he begins, panting with the effort he’s putting in, not letting up his pace. “Thinkin’ about you here waiting for me, walking around the house in those little shorts. How am I supposed to close deals when I can’t stop thinking about bending you over the kitchen counter and fucking this perfect pussy, huh?”

His words have exactly the effect he was hoping for, you are beside yourself, moaning and squirming beneath him. Letting out the sweetest little “oh, oh, ohs” as his cock rocks your whole body. He's losing tempo, both of you nearing the edge. You bring your other fist up to bunch his sweater, too, grasping so tightly you're afraid you're gonna tear it. You clench around him as he keeps talking.

“That’s it, baby, squeeze me as hard as you can - fuck!” He's unraveling, needing to find the words to get you there so he didn’t finish first. “Fuck, that’s my good girl.”

Just as he expected, that’s what finally did it for you. You cry out his name as sparks exploded in your tummy, coming so hard you have to bury your face into his chest to keep from screaming. He follows behind you almost immediately, his hot cum spurting into you as his primal groans and grunts echo through the room.

A few minutes later, you’re cleaned up and cuddled in his bed, now wrapped up in his sweater, the stretched-out fabric engulfing you. He smirks as his hands run over the material, rubbing over your stomach and waist lovingly.

“Might have to wear this thing every day if that’s how you’re gonna react,” he teases you.

“Uh-huh,” you giggle. “Good luck getting it back.”

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a/n: omg i'm so sorry I just literally couldn't not, the chokehold this sweater has on me is unnatural like y'all don't even need to read this it was just a passion project for me. all hail Blue Sweater.

[hollandsangel]

move over | m. sturniolo

okAY here we go this is my first sturniolo fic please be nice to me i am afraid

ps if you’d like to be tagged in any (possible) future fics comment 🍜

summary: matt needs a bigger bed

wc: 1k

warnings: matt x fem!reader, cursing, nightmares? no description really, just funny and fluffy 🫡 all the triplets are in it but reader is dating matt!

..does anyone remember that one video where matt said chris never sleeps in his own bed? well…

gif by @mattsturnioloarchive !

you feel yourself slipping back into consciousness, and you can tell from the soft, pale blue light of matt’s bedroom that it’s morning. matt’s fast asleep behind you, resting on his stomach with you tucked up into his side, his right arm slung over your waist. you’re already upset that you have to pee, the idea of crawling out of the sleep-warm bed and leaving your boyfriend’s cozy embrace is not an appealing one, but the nagging in your bladder won’t go away.

with a sleepy sigh you stretch your arm out just enough to the tap the screen of your phone, the numbers 8:23 glaring back you. you still don’t have to be up for another hour and a half, which you think is an acceptable amount of time left to lay in matt’s arms and snooze a bit more, even if you don’t really need anymore sleep.

it’s a bit tricky to clamber out of bed without waking the sleeping boy next to you. trying to keep from dragging the duvet with you when you slide out. you tuck matt back in properly before you wander off to his bathroom. softly, you click the door shut, and it, along with your sleep-hazy mind, muffles any sounds coming from outside the bathroom.

for once, chris slept in his own bed, knowing you’d be sleeping over and nick was editing the video meant to go up later this afternoon early into the morning. it’s too early for him to be waking up on his own but something stirs him into wakefulness, his heart beating a little faster than it should be.

matt had woken up for a mere second when you slipped out of bed and hasn’t fallen back into the depth of his sleep, waiting for you to come back. he’s just barley alert enough to hear shuffling from down the hall, getting louder until the person responsible is standing at the crack in the door.

“matt?” chris whispers, peeking into the bedroom.

matt groans and rolls over just until he can see his brother over his shoulder, “what, chris?”

“i had a fucked up dream, dude,” chris says, padding further into the room, “where’s y/n?”

matt turns a little closer to his brother, facing him now, “bathroom,” he mumbles, “what was it about?”

chris is still standing in the middle of the room, phone held loosely in his hand, “you got into a fuckin’ car accident, a really bad one” he admits, feeling a bit foolish and juvenile for running to his brother after a bad dream, “can i sleep in here?”

matt’s face softens and he rubs his eye, “yeah, ‘course.” he says, watching chris slowly walk towards the bed, “that’s her side,” he says though when chris tries to lay where you had been.

chris fakes a scowl and matt makes a face back, sleep still tugging at his mind. the two of them lay back down, back to back, tugging the covers over their shoulders.

you finish washing your hands and shut off the bathroom light. rubbing at your eyes, you make your way back to matt’s room, looking forward to sleeping a bit longer. upon wandering in you’re met with more than one body under the blankets, making you stop in your tracks.

“chris?” you wonder outloud, stopped in the door way.

matt answers before his brother can, “he had a bad dream,” he explains to you, face smushed into the pillow, leaving the words all muffled and extra groggy.

“sure,” you say, as if chris sleeping in matt’s bed doesn’t surprise you (it doesn’t). dragging your feet over to your side of the bed to matt, where he’s taking up a bit too much room. “move over,” you tell him when he peels the blankets back for you. he shuffles back with a little too much effort and you climb back into bed.

once you’re settled matt scoots a little bit closer to you to make more room for the three people now in his queen sized bed, but also because he never passes up an excuse to hold you a little tighter.

you doze in and out, matt’s soft breath against your neck keeping you a little bit dazed but not quite enough to lull you back to sleep fully. it must be nearing 10 am now, more bright sun spilling in from the cracks in the curtains above the bed. you think chris is awake too, hearing breathy little chuckles every now and then. you reach for your phone, deciding on a mindless scroll through instagram.

after a few minutes it sounds like nick has also woken up, his footsteps audible in the bedroom above. you hear him coming down the stairs, and you think he stops in the kitchen until his voice fills the quiet halls.

“chris?” he asks, standing in his brother’s empty bedroom, confused as to why he’s not in bed.

“in here,” chris speaks up, waiting for nick to press the door open.

he does, standing at arms length with a skeptical look on his face, almost afraid of what he might find. “um…hello, what are you doing in here?” nick asks, finally crossing the threshold.

“he had a bad dream,” matt says into your shoulder, startling you. you didn’t know he was awake.

“i had a bad dwream,” chris says in that stupid pouty voice that drives all of you insane, no doubt looking at nick with puppy dog eyes.

“oh…kay,” nick says and you laugh at the suspicion still evident in his tone.

“did you see the tik tok i sent you?” chris is laughing but stops abruptly when matt kicks him in the calf, which makes you giggle into your boyfriend’s arm.

“yeah, but i’m a bit more preoccupied with the absurdity of the three of you in matt’s bed right now,” nick says in his distinct deadpan drawl, which only makes you smile more.

“c’mon nick you might as well join us,” you say, earning a loud, over exaggerated groan from matt, his arms tightening around your waist.

you think nick must oblige because he doesn’t say anything for a second, coming closer to the bed.

“move over, dummy fuck,” he says to chris, who laughs out loud and scoots closer to matt.

“i hate them,” matt whispers in your ear.

tags! @mattsturnioloarchive @averysbestyears

[mcrdvcks]

Until I Found You

Summary: Living in a small town had it's pluses and minuses. But when an older man and his daughter move in, things start to change, perhaps for the better.

Word Count: 24.3k+

Pairing: Logan (X-Men) x fem!teacher!reader

Notes: this is looong, and believe me, i was surprised when i realized that it ended up being 24,000 words.

this thing is a slow-burn, i was literally screaming at my screen saying 'just kiss already!' then realizing that, in fact, i'm the one who has to make them kiss or confess or do something.

reader has a last name, but other than that, she isn't described. this technically could be considered an AU of logan (2017) where logan survives, so this was written with old man logan in mind.

i would like to turn this into another oneshot series, so don't be afraid to send in any requests! (relating to this or anything else you want to see!)

warnings: none!

The small town you lived in meant a few things, everyone knew everyone, and everyone got in everyone’s business.

A few months ago, an older man and his young daughter moved into town. You weren’t sure exactly how old he was, of course you knew who he was, but even you had to admit, he was attractive. But that’s what everyone thought, you heard the mothers who would pick up their children from school, looking at Logan as he picked up Laura.

It was nice to see a man who picked up his kid, though you’ve never seen Laura’s mother, so perhaps that explains why.

Laura was a quiet and sweet girl, at least that’s what you thought. Apparently, she also had the spirit of a firecracker and got angry easily. And while she’s visited the principal’s office at least 9 times since she’s been here, you still can’t help but see her as a cute little girl who’s been through something traumatic, whatever it was.

You were standing outside with your class in the afternoon, waiting until all the students were picked up. Laura was in another teacher’s class at the end of the day, your coworker Emma Zhou. You and Emma stood next to each other, your classes mingling as they waited for their parents to pick them up.

Emma leaned close to you, “this is my favorite part of the day, you know.”

“Yeah, I think it’s everyone’s favorite part of the day. We get to go home after this.” You replied.

“It used to be that, but now…” Emma trailed off as you glanced over at her, “there aren’t a lot of people in this town who are good looking. But he’s a great new addition.”

You hummed noncommittally, so what if Logan was good-looking? It wasn't like you spent your time ogling him. He was just another parent in the sea of them, a bit rougher around the edges maybe, but nothing that special. Emma shot you a knowing look.

"Come on, you’ve seen him, right? That scruffy beard, those eyes," Emma said, nudging you with her elbow. "He’s like one of those rugged cowboys from the old Westerns."

"You sound like you're about to swoon," you teased, trying to keep the conversation light. You didn't want to admit you might have noticed the way his eyes softened when he looked at Laura or the way he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"Well, can you blame me?" Emma shot back with a grin. "Small town like ours, and a guy like that shows up? It's bound to turn some heads."

You knew that much. All the women, even those who were married, always ogled him, but he either didn’t mind or didn’t care. His salt and pepper hair, the thick beard—he was practically a wet dream for women everywhere.

Emma nudged you again, eyes gleaming with mischief. "What, you’re not even the least bit curious about him?"

"I mean, sure, he's... attractive, but I'm not about to join the fan club," you said, shrugging it off, though you could feel heat creeping up your neck. You kept your focus on the kids in front of you, especially Laura, who sat quietly on the steps, doodling in her notebook like she always did while waiting for her dad.

Emma smirked, clearly not buying your indifference. "Yeah, right. I see the way you look over there sometimes."

You scoffed, shaking your head. "You're seeing things."

Just then, you noticed Logan’s truck pull into the school parking lot. He stepped out, running a hand through his hair as he made his way over to the crowd of parents. Laura immediately perked up, her quiet demeanor shifting just a little, and she started gathering her things without a word.

"Speak of the devil," Emma murmured, but you ignored her, watching as Logan approached, his usual scowl in place, though it softened when his eyes landed on his daughter.

He gave a brief nod in your direction as he came closer. "Afternoon."

"Hey," you replied, casually. You weren’t about to give Emma the satisfaction of seeing you flustered.

Laura stood up, slinging her backpack over her shoulder as she walked over to him. She paused in front of you, though, glancing up with those big, serious eyes of hers.

"Bye, Ms. Aberra," she said, her voice quiet but steady with a hint of her accent.

You smiled. "See you tomorrow, Laura."

She gave a small nod before taking Logan’s hand. He didn’t say much else, just a simple ‘thanks’ before turning to leave with Laura in tow. You watched them walk away for a moment longer than necessary, noticing the slight limp in his step that he tried to hide.

"Y/N," Emma sing-songed, breaking you out of your thoughts. "Admit it, you’ve got a little thing for him, don't you?"

You rolled your eyes. "You really need a new hobby."

Emma laughed, but before she could press any further, her attention shifted to another parent picking up their kid, and you were grateful for the distraction. Still, you couldn’t help but wonder about Logan and Laura, what their story was. Everyone in town seemed to have their theories—some more ridiculous than others—but you’d always figured it wasn’t your place to pry.

As the crowd of students and parents thinned out, you found yourself thinking about Logan again. His gruff exterior didn’t bother you—it reminded you of those old Clint Eastwood characters, tough but with something vulnerable underneath. Maybe it was the way he looked at Laura, so protective but with a softness that made you wonder what kind of man he really was when he let his guard down.

Emma’s voice pulled you back to the present. "So, what’s your plan for the evening?"

You shrugged. "Probably just grading papers. Maybe catching up on some Netflix. You?"

"Trying to figure out how to run into Logan at the grocery store," she joked, though you wouldn’t have been surprised if she wasn’t kidding.

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Good luck with that."

As you both said your goodbyes and headed to your cars, you couldn’t help but glance over at Logan’s truck one more time. He was already driving off, Laura in the passenger seat, her head leaning against the window.

You let out a small sigh and got in your car, starting the engine. You weren’t sure what it was about him, but there was something there. Maybe Emma wasn’t entirely wrong.

Not that you’d ever admit that to her.

---

Much to your dismay, you had to go to the store once you were already clad in your loungewear. You wanted to make pasta, only to remember you forgot to get milk after work.

So now, here you were at the small local grocery store grabbing milk and a pint of ice cream for your troubles. The store was quiet at this hour, a few other people milling about but otherwise uneventful. You grabbed a basket and made a beeline for the dairy section, trying to get in and out as quickly as possible. Loungewear was great for a lazy evening at home, but not exactly your first choice for public appearances.

Once you made it to the frozen section, you looked at the pints of ice cream, specifically looking for one of your favorites, Ben and Jerry’s s’mores. “Fuck.” You muttered, seeing a pint of cookie dough in the spot of the s’mores.

You angrily grabbed the cookie dough ice cream to look behind it, only to find a chunky monkey pint. With a huff, you looked at the pint of ice cream, mentally cursing your luck. Just as you were about to put it back onto the shelf, a deep voice spoke from beside you.

"Didn't figure you for a chunky monkey type."

Startled, you looked up and found Logan standing there, one eyebrow raised, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He was holding a six-pack of beer and a carton of eggs in one hand, the other casually resting in the pocket of his jeans.

You blinked, thrown off by the sudden appearance. "What? Oh, no, I was just... I was looking for s'mores," you explained awkwardly, holding up the ice cream like it was evidence.

He nodded, his smirk deepening a little as he glanced at the shelves. "Guess they’re out, huh?"

"Yeah, my luck tonight," you muttered, a little embarrassed to be caught standing here obsessing over ice cream in your loungewear. Not exactly how you wanted to run into the guy you were definitely not crushing on. How could you? He was the Wolverine, around 200 years old, and looked to be the age of your father. Well, if your father was still alive. Or if you ever got to know him.

Logan glanced at the shelf again and shrugged. "S'mores is overrated anyway."

You quirked an eyebrow at him, momentarily forgetting your embarrassment. "Oh really? What’s your go-to then, Mr. Anti-S'mores?"

He smirked, that same low, gravelly voice coming through as he responded. "Not much of an ice cream guy, but if I had to choose… probably plain vanilla. Simple. Not too sweet."

You couldn't help the chuckle that escaped you. "Of course you'd go for the most basic flavor."

His eyebrow twitched slightly at that, and you could see the playful glint in his eyes. "Sometimes simple’s the best option."

You rolled your eyes, grabbing a pint of vanilla. "Well, I guess I'll take your advice tonight, then. Not like I have much of a choice."

He gave you a brief nod, and for a moment, it seemed like the conversation would end there, but then Logan shifted slightly, his weight on one leg, clearly trying to mask the limp you'd noticed earlier. You weren’t sure if it was from the adamantium or something else, but it definitely wasn’t healing like it should. You found yourself biting your lip, wanting to ask but knowing better.

Instead, you went for something safer. "Laura’s doing well in class, by the way. She’s sharp. A little stubborn, but sharp."

He glanced down at you, a flicker of pride crossing his face. "Yeah, she’s a tough one." His expression softened as he added, "She doesn’t talk about it, but I know she likes you. Keeps her distance with most people."

Your heart fluttered a little at that. Laura was a bit of a mystery, rarely engaging much with the other teachers or students, so hearing that she’d let her guard down even a little with you meant more than you’d expected. "Well, she’s a good kid. I try not to push her too much."

Logan nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than you expected, like he was sizing you up in that quiet, brooding way of his. It made you feel both exposed and… oddly seen.

"Anyway," you said, breaking the silence, "I’ll let you get back to your shopping. I’m sure you’ve got more important things to do than stand around talking about ice cream."

He gave a small grunt that might’ve been a laugh, but it was so subtle you couldn’t be sure. "Yeah. See you around, Ms. Aberra."

"Y/N," you corrected, feeling a little awkward. "You can just call me Y/N."

He hesitated for a split second before nodding. "Y/N, then."

You gave him a small smile, feeling a strange warmth at the way your name sounded in his deep voice. He gave a nod before turning to leave, but as he walked away, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at his retreating form. There was something about him—something rough, broken, but undeniably captivating.

---

The next morning, you pulled into the school parking lot, iced coffee in hand, still replaying your chance encounter with Logan at the grocery store. Why did it have to be the one night you went out in loungewear? If Emma ever found out, you'd never hear the end of it. You mentally braced yourself as you walked toward the building, determined to shake off any lingering thoughts about last night.

As you entered the teacher's lounge to drop off your things, Emma was already there, nursing her own cup of coffee. She spotted you immediately and raised an eyebrow.

"You look a little too chipper for a Wednesday," she teased.

You shrugged, trying to act casual. "Just happy to be halfway through the week."

"Uh-huh," she said, not quite convinced. "You didn't run into anyone interesting last night, did you?"

Your heart skipped a beat. How does she know?

"Like who?" you asked, trying to play dumb, but Emma's smirk told you she wasn't buying it.

"Oh, I don’t know... maybe a certain rugged cowboy-looking guy with a truck?" she said, her grin widening.

You groaned. "Seriously, do you have a sixth sense or something?"

"I knew it!" Emma practically squealed. "You did run into Logan, didn’t you? Come on, spill!"

You rolled your eyes and took a seat at the table. "It was nothing. We just ran into each other in the frozen section, talked for, like, two seconds. That’s it."

"Uh-huh, and?" Emma leaned forward, eager for details.

"And nothing. We talked about ice cream. He said s'mores was overrated."

Emma let out a dramatic gasp. "Overrated? Now, I know he's not perfect."

You chuckled despite yourself. "Yeah, well, that's the most thrilling part of my story, so feel free to be disappointed."

Emma shook her head, still grinning. "Oh, I'm not disappointed at all. This is just the beginning."

"There's nothing to begin, Emma," you said, exasperated. "He's just another parent."

"Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that," she said with a wink before heading out to her classroom. You couldn't help but roll your eyes again as you followed her out into the hallway.

---

The morning passed uneventfully, but Laura had been quieter than usual in your class. Not that she was typically the most talkative kid, but today she seemed more distant, even from you. She’d finished her assignments early, as usual, but spent most of the class staring out the window instead of doodling in her notebook.

During lunch, you decided to check in with her. You found her sitting by herself outside, picking at the sandwich Logan had packed for her. You approached cautiously, not wanting to startle her.

"Hey, Laura," you greeted, taking a seat on the bench next to her. "Everything okay?"

She glanced at you, her expression as unreadable as always, before giving a slight shrug. "Yeah."

You studied her for a moment, noticing the way she kept her gaze low, avoiding eye contact more than usual. Something was definitely off. You knew better than to push too hard, but you also didn't want her to bottle everything up.

"Well, you know if you ever want to talk, I’m here," you said gently.

She gave another shrug, but this time, her eyes flickered up to meet yours briefly. "I know."

You nodded, letting the silence settle between you. Laura wasn’t one for big emotional outbursts—at least not around you—but you had a feeling she'd talk when she was ready.

"By the way," you said, changing the subject to lighten the mood, "your dad said he don’t like s'mores ice cream. Is that true, or is he just weird?"

Laura looked up at you, her lips twitching slightly like she was trying not to smile. "I like s'mores."

"Thought so," you replied with a smirk. "Well, I’m officially questioning all of your dad's taste now."

Laura didn’t laugh, but her expression softened a little, and she took another bite of her sandwich. It wasn’t much, but it felt like progress. You let her finish eating in peace, feeling a little more at ease knowing that you’d at least gotten her to relax.

---

The afternoon flew by, and soon enough, the end-of-day pickup routine was in full swing. You and Emma stood outside again, watching the usual parade of parents and cars. Logan’s truck was easy to spot as it pulled up to the curb. You tried to act like you weren’t paying attention, but of course, Emma caught you glancing over.

"Still nothing, huh?" she teased under her breath.

"Shut up," you muttered, doing your best to seem disinterested.

Logan stepped out of the truck, his usual stoic expression in place as he made his way toward the school. Laura was already waiting, standing near the steps with her backpack slung over her shoulder. She saw him and walked over without hesitation, but before they left, she turned back to you.

"Bye, Ms. Aberra," she said, her voice a little softer than usual.

"See you tomorrow, Laura," you replied with a smile.

Logan gave you a nod as they walked past, and you couldn’t help but notice the slight limp in his step again. It was subtle, but there. Your curiosity piqued, but you pushed it down, reminding yourself it wasn’t your place to pry.

Emma, however, was still watching you closely. "You’re so not fooling anyone."

You shot her a look. "Seriously, get a hobby."

Emma just grinned, clearly enjoying this way too much. "Oh, this is my hobby, Y/N. And I’m going to enjoy every minute of it."

As you both stood there, watching the last of the kids get picked up, you couldn’t help but glance over at Logan’s truck one more time as it drove away. Emma’s teasing was getting on your nerves, but there was a part of you that couldn’t completely dismiss what she was saying.

Maybe you were a little curious. Just a little. But you weren’t about to admit that to anyone—not even yourself.

---

Over the weekend you decided it was time to get an oil change. You weren’t going to go to ‘Mavin’s Oil Change’, not after that happened. Which is why for the past few years you’ve been doing it yourself.

It wasn’t difficult, and it was a lot cheaper, both wins in your book.

You walked around the hardware store, glancing at the shelves as you carried a new oil drain pan. You paused in front of the rows of motor oil, scanning the labels. Conventional had always worked fine for you, but maybe this time you'd splurge on the synthetic blend. It wasn't a huge decision, but it felt like a small act of treating yourself, in a way.

You were debating the pros and cons of the oil options when you heard the sound of someone walking up behind you.

"Didn’t peg you for the kind to do your own oil changes."

You turned your head and were met with Logan’s familiar gravelly voice. There he was again—of all places, he’d found you here in the auto section of the hardware store.

"Yeah, well, it's cheaper this way," you replied with a casual shrug, hoping to mask the slight surprise in your voice. You gestured to the oil in front of you. "What about you? Conventional or synthetic blend?"

Logan glanced at the shelf, then back at you. "Conventional. Gets the job done."

"Figures." You grinned a little, grabbing the conventional oil off the shelf. "Guess I’ll stick with what I know too, then."

He raised an eyebrow at you, but there was a hint of amusement behind his usual stoic demeanor. "Figured you’d be one to overthink it. Synthetic’s not all it’s cracked up to be."

You chuckled. "I’ll take your word for it, Mr. Oil Expert."

He grunted in response, grabbing something off the shelf for himself. For a moment, you both stood there, surrounded by tools and motor oil, neither of you saying much. It was kind of nice—quiet, comfortable in a way you wouldn’t have expected.

You shifted, holding the oil pan in your hands. "So, is Laura doing anything fun this weekend?"

Logan glanced at you, his face softening slightly at the mention of his daughter. "Not much. She likes to keep busy, but… this town ain’t exactly got a lot going on."

"True," you nodded, biting your lip as you tried to think of something. "She could come by and help me out with my garden, if she’s interested. I know she likes plants."

Logan looked at you, a little longer than usual, and you wondered if you’d crossed some kind of line offering something so personal. But then he nodded. "She’d probably like that."

"Cool," you said, feeling oddly relieved that you hadn’t messed up. "Let me know if she wants to. I could use an extra set of hands."

He gave a small nod, but his eyes lingered on you again for a second before he turned his attention back to the shelf. There was that same weight to his gaze, like he was always sizing things up, figuring people out.

"You know," you said, breaking the silence, "I’m starting to think you’re stalking me. First the grocery store, now here. Should I be worried?"

Logan snorted, shaking his head. "Pretty sure it’s the other way around."

You raised an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. "Excuse me? If anything, I’m just a simple schoolteacher who likes ice cream and doing her own oil changes. Hardly the stalking type."

"Sure," he replied, the corner of his mouth twitching just slightly into what could almost be considered a smile.

You felt your own lips tugging into a grin, and for a moment, it felt easier. Logan wasn’t always the easiest person to talk to, but something about these small, random moments with him made you feel more at ease than you expected.

"Well, good luck with your oil change," he said, turning to head down another aisle. "Maybe see you around."

"Yeah, see you around," you replied, watching him walk away before you continued shopping, a strange warmth lingering in your chest.

As you walked toward the checkout, you couldn’t help but think back on how natural it felt, just talking to him. There wasn’t any awkwardness or forced conversation—just two people running into each other at the hardware store. Nothing to overthink. Except, maybe, the fact that you were starting to like these encounters more than you’d like to admit.

---

Logan blew out a breath of his cigar smoke. Laura said she didn’t like it when he smoked inside so he started doing it outside on the porch.

A small added bonus was seeing you, a few houses down, across the street, currently underneath your car getting the oil to drain.

The door opened and shut behind him as Laura stepped out, “ella te gusta,” she said softly.

He let out a huff, “kid, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, but I don’t know Spanish.”

Laura let out her own huff, sitting down next to Logan’s chair with her sketchbook, flipping it open. She didn’t say anything for a while, just started sketching in that intense, quiet way she had. Logan leaned back, puffing on his cigar, watching the smoke curl up into the air.

He caught himself glancing back across the street, where you were still working under your car. Laura's earlier comment lingered in his mind, even if he pretended not to know what it meant.

After a few minutes of silence, Laura looked up from her drawing. “You should go help her.”

Logan snorted, taking another puff of his cigar. “She’s fine. Knows what she’s doin’.”

Laura raised an eyebrow at him, her expression skeptical. “You’re always saying people shouldn’t be doin’ stuff like that alone. What if something happens?”

“Yeah, but she’s not helpless,” he grunted, though there was something in his tone that sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than her.

Laura shrugged and went back to her sketch. “Still think you should.”

Logan glanced at her, then back at you. You were sliding out from under the car, wiping your hands on your jeans, looking like you’d handled it just fine. He grunted again, though this time it was more to himself.

“What are you drawing?” he asked, trying to change the subject.

Laura held up her sketchbook, showing him a detailed drawing of a plant—a vine with thorns twisting around a branch. It reminded him of your garden, something about the way the plants seemed to grow wild but still had a certain beauty to them.

“That for Ms. Aberra?” Logan asked, the name slipping out before he could stop it. He tried to keep his tone casual, but Laura shot him a knowing look.

“Maybe.” She shrugged, but there was a smirk playing on her lips. “She likes plants. Thought she’d like this.”

Logan just nodded, staying quiet. He wasn’t about to get into a conversation with an eleven-year-old about why he’d noticed things about your garden or how you seemed to have a way with plants. That wasn’t his style.

“Why don’t you go show her?” Logan suggested, nodding toward you as you gathered up your tools.

Laura seemed to think about it for a second, then shook her head. “Maybe later. She’s busy.”

Logan raised an eyebrow at her but didn’t push it. He knew better than to try and make Laura do something if she wasn’t in the mood. The kid had a stubborn streak a mile wide. Though he supposes it was his fault.

A teenage girl who was walking a dog, a tan pit bull, stopped in front of your driveway, the dog happily wagging its tail as it patiently waited for you to say hello.

You were still wiping the oil off your hands when you noticed the pair. "Hey, there.” You smiled as you crouched down to greet Juno, who leaned eagerly into your hand, her tail wagging excitedly. "How are you, Juno?" you cooed, giving the pit bull a good scratch behind the ears.

The teenage girl holding the leash smiled politely. “She’s been dying to see you again,” she said, giving the leash a little slack so the dog could get closer.

"Well, I’m always happy to see her." You grinned as the dog nudged your leg, clearly wanting more attention. "Been a busy evening?”

The girl shrugged. “Yeah, but Juno here makes it better. You know how it is.”

You nodded. "Definitely. Plants are my version of Juno. Or baking, it’s hard to decide.”

The girl chuckled lightly before glancing at the car behind you. “Doing your own oil change?”

"Yep," you said, standing up and wiping your hands again on the rag. "Easier and cheaper than going to a shop."

She raised an eyebrow. "Impressive. I wouldn’t even know where to start."

“You’d be surprised how easy it is. YouTube tutorials, mostly,” you said, shrugging as you wiped your hands on the rag.

The girl smiled. "I might have to try that next time. If I don’t mess up my car in the process.”

You laughed. "That’s what the tutorials are for. But yeah, it’s not too bad. You’d get the hang of it."

As you chatted with the girl for a bit longer, Juno continued to happily soak up the attention. You scratched behind her ears one more time before standing up straight. “Well, good luck with the rest of your walk. Always nice seeing you two.”

“Same here,” the girl replied, tugging gently on Juno’s leash. “C’mon, girl. Let’s get home.”

You waved as they continued down the street, Juno looking back at you with her tail wagging. With a satisfied sigh, you turned back to finish cleaning up, putting away the oil pan and bottles of motor oil.

Across the street, Logan puffed his cigar, watching as you gathered your tools and wiped your hands one more time. Laura had gone back to her sketching, though every now and then she’d glance up at him with that same look.

“She’s done now,” Laura said after a moment, still sketching.

“I can see that,” Logan grumbled, tapping ash off the end of his cigar.

“Still think you should go help,” she added, not even bothering to look up this time.

Logan huffed, staring at you as you double-checked your work and began packing up. He didn’t need to help—you were obviously handling everything just fine. But still, there was something about the way you worked so methodically, so determined. You’d done it all yourself, like you didn’t need anyone’s help. He couldn’t quite shake the feeling, though, that maybe he wanted to offer it anyway.

“Kid, you sure know how to push buttons,” he muttered under his breath.

Laura just smirked, flipping another page in her sketchbook.

Logan grumbled to himself for a moment longer before standing up from his chair, tapping out the last of his cigar in the ashtray. “Stay here.”

He walked across the street toward your driveway, hands in his jacket pockets, his eyes set on you as you knelt by the toolbox, sorting through the remaining tools.

“You done already?” he called out, making his presence known.

You glanced up, not expecting to see him again so soon. “Yeah, just finished up,” you replied, standing up and wiping your hands on the rag again. “What about you? Something break down?”

“Nah, just figured I’d see if you needed any help,” he said, his tone casual, though you could tell it wasn’t exactly his style to offer assistance without a reason.

You raised an eyebrow, smiling a little. “You offering to help after the job’s already done?”

"Guess I am," Logan replied with a hint of a smirk, his eyes not quite meeting yours.

You couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, it's the thought that counts, I suppose. Next time, I’ll be sure to save the hardest part for you."

"Yeah, you do that," he said, his voice gruff but not unfriendly. He shifted his weight slightly, glancing over at the now-finished oil change. "You do this kind of thing often? Or just the oil changes?"

"Mostly just the oil changes," you admitted, as you leaned in closer like you were telling a secret. “I went on a few dates with Mavin’s son the first few months I was here and didn’t go over well. Now he overcharges me.” You held up your hands, “but if it’s something complicated, I promise I drive 30 minutes to the city to get it checked out.”

Logan's eyes flickered with interest, the corners of his mouth twitching into something resembling a smile. "That right? Well, can't say I'm surprised. Mavin's a bit of a jerk."

You chuckled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Yeah, he wasn't thrilled about me ghosting his son, that's for sure. But hey, I learned how to change my own oil, so I guess something good came out of it."

Logan grunted in agreement, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He didn't say much after that, his eyes lingering on you as if he were trying to piece together something that didn't quite fit. You had a feeling he wasn't used to people like you—people who seemed to find their way into his life, one way or another.

"Well," you said, breaking the silence, "thanks for the offer, even if the job’s already done." You smiled, a little uncertain about what to do next. "Guess I'll see you around."

He nodded, but didn't make a move to leave. "Laura likes you, you know."

That caught you off guard. "Oh," you replied, a bit flustered. "Well, I like her too. She's a good kid. Smart, but... you already know that."

"Yeah," Logan muttered, his voice softer than usual. "She doesn’t open up to many people. But you... you’re different."

You weren't sure how to respond to that, so you just nodded, feeling an unexpected warmth spread through your chest. "I’m glad she feels comfortable around me. She’s been through a lot."

Logan's eyes darkened slightly, a shadow passing over his features. "More than most," he agreed, his voice rough with something that sounded a lot like guilt.

You wanted to reach out, to say something that might make him feel better, but words failed you. So instead, you just stood there, the silence stretching between you, not awkward but charged with something unspoken.

"Anyway," Logan said, clearing his throat as if to shake off the heavy moment. "If you ever need help with the car, you know where to find me. Or Laura."

You smiled, feeling that warmth again. "I’ll keep that in mind. And if you two ever need help with, I don’t know, math homework or... anything else, you know where to find me."

He nodded, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. "Noted."

You watched as he turned to leave, feeling a strange mix of relief and disappointment. As he walked back toward his house, you couldn't help but feel that maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something more than just friendly encounters at the store.

---

During lunch, you sat in your classroom, enjoying 30 minutes of peace and quiet before the kids came back into the room. The soft hum of the heater filled the space, making the room feel warmer than usual as you flipped through the stack of quizzes you needed to grade. The formulas and diagrams were a blur as your mind drifted back to the weekend, specifically to Logan.

The way he’d offered to help with your oil change, the quiet moments that had followed—it was so unlike him. Or maybe, you realized, you just didn’t know him well enough yet. Either way, something about it had left you feeling... something.

A soft knock on the doorframe pulled you from your thoughts. You looked up to see Emma standing in the doorway, that cheeky grin on her face.

“So,” she started, stepping inside your classroom. “I hear you’re making friends with a certain someone across the street.”

You rolled your eyes, setting down the quiz you’d been half-grading. “I’m not ‘making friends.’ We just happen to run into each other.”

Emma raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Mhm. Sure. Totally normal for him to come help with your oil change, right?”

"My God, how do you know?" you asked, eyes widening in disbelief as you sat back in your chair.

Emma smirked, leaning against the doorway like she had all the time in the world. "Small town. You know how people talk." She paused, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Besides, you’re not exactly subtle. Logan? The gruff guy across the street? It’s hard to miss that you two have been... running into each other more than usual."

You sighed, rubbing your temple. "It’s not like that. He just offered to help with my car, and Laura—"

Emma’s grin widened. "Ah, Laura. That’s the key, isn’t it? I’ve seen how she looks at you. That kid doesn’t warm up to just anyone. She’s a little... prickly, but with you? She’s different."

"She’s a good kid," you said, trying to deflect. "She’s been through a lot, you know? I just think she needs someone to talk to. Someone who’s not... intimidating."

"Sure, sure," Emma teased, walking further into the room and sitting on the edge of one of the desks. "But you can’t tell me there isn’t something more going on between you and Logan. I mean, come on. He doesn’t exactly strike me as the ‘friendly neighbor’ type. More like ‘leave me alone or I’ll stab you with my claws’ type."

You chuckled despite yourself. "Okay, yeah, he’s not exactly Mr. Rogers. But it’s not like we’re... you know, it’s just—"

"Flirting?" Emma offered with a raised eyebrow.

"Friendly," you corrected quickly, though the warmth in your cheeks betrayed you. "It’s just friendly. He’s Laura’s dad, and we’ve talked a few times, but that’s it."

Emma gave you a knowing look. "Uh-huh. Sure. And I’m the Queen of England."

You groaned, pushing your quizzes aside. "Why are you so obsessed with this?"

"Because," Emma said with a shrug, "it’s about time you had a little fun in this town. You spend all your time either at school or working on that garden of yours. You deserve to have a life outside of grading papers and pulling weeds."

"I have a life," you protested.

Emma raised an eyebrow. "Really? And when was the last time you went on a date?"

You opened your mouth to reply, but quickly closed it, realizing you didn’t have a good answer. "Okay, fine," you admitted, "it’s been a while. But that doesn’t mean—"

"Exactly my point," Emma interrupted, flashing a triumphant grin. "Look, I’m not saying you have to marry the guy. But Logan? He’s clearly interested. And I think you are too."

"Okay… even if I was interested, I’m pretty sure a guy like that doesn’t have dating or relationships on his mind. Especially with someone like me." You leaned back in your chair, feeling a mix of frustration and doubt.

Emma gave you a skeptical look, shaking her head. "Someone like you? Come on, Y/N. Don’t sell yourself short. You’re smart, funny, and clearly, Logan thinks you’re worth his time. He’s not just helping anyone with an oil change, believe me."

You sighed, crossing your arms. "It’s not that simple. You know what he’s been through. And Laura... she’s been through so much already. I’m not about to mess with their lives."

Emma smirked, tapping her fingers on the desk. "Mess with their lives? Or make their lives better? Laura clearly likes you, Y/N. She’s practically glued to your side when you’re around. And Logan? He’s different with you. I see it."

You frowned, picking up a pen and twirling it between your fingers. "Laura’s nice to me, yeah. But that doesn’t mean anything. She’s indifferent to most of the other teachers, and she barely talks in class. I don’t even know if she likes me, or if it’s just... I don’t know."

"She doesn’t warm up to just anyone," Emma pointed out. "You’re different. She looks at you like she trusts you, and Logan trusts you too, whether he shows it or not. That’s not something that happens often with them. They’re... well, guarded, for obvious reasons."

You were quiet for a moment, thinking about Laura. It was true—she was quiet, distant with others, but with you? There was something different. She’d even started staying after class sometimes, just sitting there while you graded papers or prepped for the next lesson. And Logan? He was always nearby, watching, but never intruding.

Still, the idea of anything happening between you and Logan felt... complicated. "Even if he did trust me, it’s not like he’s the type to be thinking about relationships. The man’s got enough on his plate. And me? I’ve got work, and... I’m not exactly relationship material."

Emma laughed, shaking her head. "Please, Y/N. If anyone deserves a chance at something real, it’s you. You’ve spent so long taking care of everyone else—your students, your job. Maybe it’s time to let someone take care of you for a change."

You looked at her, skeptical. "You think Logan is the type to 'take care of' someone?"

She smirked. "He already is. He’s just doing it in his own way. And trust me, the way he looks at you? There’s more there than you realize. You just have to stop overthinking it."

Before you could respond, the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. Emma stood up, giving you one last knowing smile before heading for the door. "Just think about it, Y/N. Sometimes, the best things happen when you least expect them."

You watched her go, your mind still swirling with doubt and a tiny sliver of hope. Could there really be something more between you and Logan? Or was it just your imagination?

As your students started filing back into the room, you pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the rest of the day. But even as you taught your lessons and graded papers, Logan lingered in the back of your mind.

---

Later that evening, you found yourself in the garden, pulling weeds and trying to clear your head. The sun was starting to set, casting a warm orange glow over the small town. You liked this time of day—the quiet, the calm.

Just as you were settling into the rhythm of pulling weeds, you heard footsteps behind you. Turning around, you saw Logan standing there, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, his expression as unreadable as ever.

"Need any help?" he asked, his gruff voice breaking the silence.

You blinked, caught off guard. "Uh, with the garden? I’m just pulling weeds."

He shrugged, stepping closer. "Doesn’t hurt to have an extra set of hands."

You smiled, feeling a bit awkward but oddly touched by the offer. "Sure, if you’re up for it."

Logan crouched down next to you, pulling at the weeds without saying much. The two of you worked in silence for a few minutes, the only sound being the rustling of plants and the distant hum of traffic.

Eventually, you spoke up, trying to break the tension. "So... Laura’s been doing well in class. She’s quiet, but I think she’s starting to come out of her shell a bit."

Logan glanced at you, a hint of surprise in his eyes. "Yeah? That’s good to hear. She doesn’t talk much at home either."

"She’s a smart kid," you added, pulling another weed. "But I think... she could use someone to talk to. Someone she feels safe with."

Logan was quiet for a moment, then nodded. "She’s been through a lot. Trust doesn’t come easy for her."

You hesitated, then asked, "What about you? Do you feel safe here?"

He looked at you, his expression softening just a little. "Safer than I’ve felt in a long time."

That simple admission hit you harder than you expected. Logan, this gruff, guarded man, was letting his walls down, even just a little. It made your heart ache in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

"That’s good," you said quietly, your eyes meeting his. "I’m glad."

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The quiet between you felt heavy but not uncomfortable. Logan’s presence was grounding, solid in a way that made you feel... safe too.

Finally, he broke the silence. "I appreciate what you’ve done for Laura. She doesn’t trust many people, but with you... it’s different."

You shrugged, trying to downplay it. "I’m just doing my job. She’s a good kid, like I said."

Logan gave a low chuckle, shaking his head. "It’s more than that. She trusts you. And... so do I."

Your breath caught in your throat at his words. There was something unspoken in the air between you, something neither of you was ready to address. But it was there, simmering just below the surface.

"Logan, I—"

Before you could finish, he stood up, brushing the dirt off his hands. "Anyway, I’ll let you get back to it."

You stood up too, feeling the weight of what was left unsaid hanging in the air. "Thanks for the help."

He gave a brief nod, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he turned to leave. "Anytime."

As you watched him walk away, your heart was pounding in your chest. There was no denying it now—there was something between you and Logan. Something real. And it scared you just as much as it excited you.

---

Parent-teacher conferences always stressed you out. Gathering all your students’ information, organizing it all, it was hectic and unreasonable. You couldn’t understand why an email didn’t suffice.

Possibly the worst thing about it is the fact it took place in the school gym, which had no AC. The heat was almost unbearable, making your clothes stick to your skin as you shuffled through your notes, waiting for the next parent to arrive to your table.

The gym was packed, parents and their kids moving between tables as they talked to teachers, making the already stifling room feel even hotter. You fanned yourself with the stack of notes you’d organized earlier, feeling sweat prickle at your back.

You glanced at your list of appointments, sighing when you saw who was next: Logan. You hadn't expected him to come. Laura was doing well enough in your class, but she wasn’t exactly the type to care about grades. You figured Logan would be the same—practical, but not overly concerned about school meetings.

You straightened up, glancing around to see him approaching with Laura by his side. She looked slightly uncomfortable, her arms crossed and her gaze focused anywhere but the gym, while Logan was, well... Logan. His expression was gruff, unreadable as usual, but there was something in his eyes that softened when he saw you.

“Ms. Aberra,” Logan greeted as he reached your table, giving you a nod.

“Logan,” you said, smiling at Laura. “And Laura. How are you two doing?”

Laura shrugged, barely meeting your gaze. Logan pulled out the chair for her, and she reluctantly sat down, still quiet. He stayed standing, leaning on the back of the chair, watching you with that familiar intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” you said lightly, trying to ease the tension. “Laura’s doing fine in class. Really, there’s not much to talk about.”

Logan glanced at Laura, then back at you. “Figured I’d come by anyway. See how things are goin’.”

You nodded, pulling up Laura’s grades on your tablet. “Well, like I said, she’s doing great. She’s one of the best in the class, actually. Quiet, but I can tell she’s always thinking.”

Laura’s face remained impassive, but there was the slightest twitch of a smile at the corner of her lips.

“She’s got potential,” you continued, looking at Logan. “Especially in science. I think she’d be great at anything she wanted to do, honestly.”

Logan grunted in response, but there was a proud glint in his eye. “That’s good to hear.”

Laura finally spoke up, her voice quiet but clear. “I like science. And math.”

You smiled, surprised by her willingness to engage. “Well, you’re really good at it. I was thinking, if you ever wanted, there are some extracurriculars coming up. Science club, math competitions—stuff like that. It might be fun.”

Laura glanced at Logan, who simply shrugged. “Up to you, kid.”

She seemed to think about it for a moment, then nodded slightly. “Maybe.”

“Well, no pressure,” you said, trying to keep it casual. “You can always decide later.”

There was an awkward pause as you flipped through the rest of Laura’s grades, though there wasn’t much else to say. She was excelling, especially considering her background. You couldn’t help but feel a little protective over her, knowing what she’d been through.

“So, uh, anything else you need to know?” you asked, looking back up at Logan.

He shook his head. “Just wanted to check in, make sure she’s on track.”

You smiled, feeling the warmth in his words even if he didn’t show it. “She’s doing great. Really.”

Logan gave you a brief nod, his gaze lingering on you a little longer than necessary before he straightened up. “Thanks.”

You watched as he turned to Laura, ready to leave, but she didn’t stand just yet. Instead, she glanced between the two of you, her brow furrowed slightly like she was piecing something together.

“Are you... friends?” she asked suddenly, her voice cutting through the noise of the gym.

You blinked, taken aback by the question. Logan seemed just as surprised, his eyes widening slightly before he quickly recovered.

“Well,” you said slowly, glancing at Logan for a cue. “I guess you could say that.”

Logan cleared his throat, crossing his arms. “Yeah. Somethin’ like that.”

Laura’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if she didn’t quite believe it but wasn’t going to argue. “Okay.”

She stood up, her chair scraping against the floor as she started toward the exit. Logan hesitated for a moment, giving you one last look before following her. “See you around,” he said, his voice gruff but softer than usual.

You watched them go, feeling that strange mix of emotions again—the warmth, the uncertainty, the possibility of something more. As the door closed behind them, you realized that, for once, you didn’t mind the heat. It was a small town, and people noticed everything. But you were starting to wonder if maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

Laura grabbed his hand as they exited the gym, having already seen her other teachers. She looked up at Logan, as he stared straight ahead at the truck in the parking lot. “Creo que ella te gusta.”

He let out a huff, “kid, don’t know how many times I gotta say it, but I don’t know Spanish.”

Laura gave him a sidelong glance, clearly unimpressed by his response. "You should learn," she muttered under her breath, squeezing his hand as they reached the truck.

Logan grunted as he fumbled for the keys, a slight wince crossing his features as he slid into the driver’s seat. He glanced at Laura, who was already buckling herself in without a word. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t quite easy either.

He turned the key in the ignition, the truck sputtering to life as he pulled out of the parking lot. His mind wandered back to the parent-teacher conference, and specifically to Y/N. She’d always been good with Laura, he could see that. But lately, something about her seemed to calm him too—a feeling he wasn’t used to and didn’t quite know how to handle.

“You like her,” Laura said, breaking the silence with her blunt observation. It wasn’t a question.

Logan’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. “She’s a good teacher. You like her, too.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Laura said, crossing her arms. “You act different when she’s around. You don’t growl as much.”

Logan let out a low chuckle, though it lacked any real humor. “I don’t growl.”

“Yes, you do,” Laura said, looking out the window. “But not at her.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t. Instead, he focused on the road, trying to push away the thoughts circling in his mind. He wasn’t a man used to... feelings, especially not ones that left him unsure. But Y/N had a way of sneaking under his defenses, and that scared him more than he’d like to admit.

“I like her,” Laura said quietly after a long stretch of silence.

Logan glanced at her, surprised by the soft admission. Laura didn’t trust people easily, and she certainly didn’t like many. But her words carried weight, especially to him.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.

Laura nodded, still looking out the window. “She’s not like the others. She doesn’t treat me like I’m different.”

Logan felt a knot in his chest loosen, though he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the relief of knowing Laura had found someone she trusted, or maybe it was the way Y/N had already become a part of their lives, without him even realizing it. Either way, he didn’t say anything more, just drove the rest of the way home in silence, lost in his own thoughts.

---

The next morning, you thanked the stars that it was Saturday. You were exhausted from the large amount of human interaction last night and decided to sleep in a bit before tending to the garden.

After that, and taking a shower, you slipped into comfortable clothes, some small shorts and a large t-shirt that covered the shorts, since it only getting warmer outside.

Even with that said, you couldn’t help but crave chocolate chip cookies, thanking the stars once again that you had all the ingredients.

You turned on the oven, allowing it to pre-heat, as you grabbed a mixing bowl and walked around your small kitchen looking for the ingredients listed on your worn-out piece of paper. You still hadn’t memorized the recipe after making it for years.

The doorbell ringed as you poked your head out the side of your kitchen. When you answered it, you were pleasantly surprised to find Laura outside, wearing what you could only describe as a cute grey shirt with a colorful bear on it. You’d never say it to her, she’d probably leave if you said she looked cute.

“Hey, Laura. D’you need anything?”

“Daddy said I could help with the garden.” She spoke softly.

“Oof, sorry kiddo. Already did it this morning.” You looked back inside your house before turning back to Laura, “though, I could use some help making cookies.”

Laura hesitated for a second, her dark eyes studying you as if trying to decide whether this was worth her time. You were still getting used to her quiet, guarded nature, but you’d learned quickly that she was different around you compared to other people. It was like you had some sort of unspoken understanding, even if you didn’t fully get why.

“Okay,” she finally said, stepping past you into the house.

You closed the door behind her, walking back into the kitchen and grabbing a second mixing bowl. “You ever make cookies before?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder at her.

Laura shook her head, standing by the counter as she watched you.

“Well, today’s your lucky day. I’m about to show you the magic of sugar, butter, and chocolate chips.” You grinned as you started measuring out the ingredients. “Can you hand me the brown sugar?”

She scanned the countertop before reaching for the brown sugar, silently passing it to you. You got the feeling she wasn’t used to this kind of thing—normal, mundane stuff like baking cookies on a lazy Saturday. Not that you knew her whole story or anything, but you’d heard enough about Logan and his complicated life to guess Laura hadn’t had a typical upbringing.

As you started mixing the butter and sugar together, you tried to think of something to say. Conversations with Laura could be tricky; she wasn’t the chatty type, and you didn’t want to push her too much.

“So,” you started, keeping your tone casual, “what’s Logan up to today?”

She shrugged. “Resting.”

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further. Logan resting was a good thing. You knew he’d been having a rough time lately with his health, even though he wasn’t the type to admit it. You figured he was just being stubborn, refusing to slow down even though it was clear his healing wasn’t what it used to be.

Laura remained silent, watching as you added the flour to the mix.

“You wanna stir?” you asked, offering her the spatula.

She looked at it for a moment before stepping closer and taking it from you. Her movements were careful, deliberate, and you couldn’t help but smile as she focused on the task.

“Nice job,” you said, giving her a thumbs-up. “You’ve got a future in cookie-making, I can tell.”

Laura didn’t react much, but you swore you saw the tiniest flicker of amusement in her eyes.

As she stirred, you reached for the chocolate chips. “Best part of making cookies—sneaking a few of these before they go in the dough.” You tossed a couple into your mouth, then held the bag out to her.

She paused, looking at the chocolate chips like she wasn’t sure what to do. After a second, she picked one up and ate it, chewing thoughtfully.

You chuckled. “See? Told you it’s the best part.”

Laura kept stirring the dough while you got the baking sheets ready. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, just… quiet. You didn’t mind it, though. Laura wasn’t the type of kid who needed constant conversation, and you appreciated that about her.

As she worked, you glanced at her again, feeling a strange sense of protectiveness. You didn’t know what exactly she’d been through, but whatever it was, you could tell it had shaped her into someone far older than her years.

When the dough was ready, you started scooping it onto the trays. “Almost done,” you said. “Then it’s just a waiting game while they bake.”

Laura nodded, wiping her hands on a dish towel as she watched you.

You slid the trays into the oven and set the timer before turning back to her. “You want some water or anything while we wait?”

She shook her head, her eyes still on the oven like she was trying to figure out why people made such a big deal out of cookies.

“Well, I’m grabbing a drink.” You poured yourself a glass of water, leaning against the counter as you sipped. “It’ll take around 12 minutes for them to finish. Then we put in another batch, and another until the dough has all been used.”

Laura gave a small nod, her eyes still focused on the oven. It was like she was trying to figure out if all this waiting was actually worth it.

You studied her for a moment, wondering what was going on in that head of hers. She never really said much, but it was clear there was a lot happening behind those dark, watchful eyes. You weren’t exactly sure why she’d taken to you, but you were grateful for it. Laura didn’t let many people in, that much was obvious.

“I can show you a movie. Or maybe some music? I usually play somethin’ while I wait.”

Laura glanced up at you, her brow furrowing slightly. “Music,” she said quietly.

You smiled, glad she was at least open to that. “Cool. Let’s see what we got.” You pulled out your phone and scrolled through your playlist, landing on something mellow, nothing too upbeat or distracting. You hit play, letting the soft sounds of a guitar fill the room.

Laura leaned against the counter, listening, her arms crossed over her chest. She wasn’t fidgety or impatient, just quiet, like she was absorbing everything around her.

You took another sip of water, watching her from the corner of your eye. “You ever help Logan with stuff like this? Like cooking?”

She shook her head. “No.”

You figured as much. “Well, if he ever asks, you’ll be a pro now.” You winked at her, earning the tiniest of shrugs in return.

You both stood there in a comfortable silence, letting the music play. It wasn’t awkward, just… peaceful. The smell of the cookies starting to bake filled the kitchen, and for a moment, it was easy to forget all the heavy stuff hanging in the air—Logan’s health, Laura’s past, whatever weight she carried that you didn’t fully understand yet.

After a few minutes, Laura spoke up. “I talked to Logan about you… last night.”

You paused, surprised she’d bring it up. “Oh yeah? What’d he say?”

She didn’t answer right away, her gaze fixed on the oven. “He said you’re... different from other people. In a good way.”

A warmth crept into your chest at that. “Well, that’s nice of him to say. I think he’s pretty different too, you know. In a good way.”

Laura looked at you, her expression unreadable. “He likes you,” she said, her tone flat, but there was something in the way she said it, like it was a fact she was still processing.

You felt your cheeks heat up a little. “Yeah? Well… I like him too.”

She stared at you for a moment longer before nodding slowly, like she was piecing something together in her head. “He doesn’t trust people. But he trusts you.”

You swallowed, not quite sure how to respond to that. “I’m glad he does. I mean… I care about him, Laura. And you too.”

Laura’s eyes flickered with something—maybe understanding, maybe something else you couldn’t quite name. She didn’t say anything for a while, just looked down at the floor.

Before the silence could stretch too long, the oven timer beeped, cutting through the moment.

“Cookies are done,” you said, turning to grab the oven mitts. You pulled the trays out, setting them on the counter to cool. The smell was even stronger now, warm and sweet, filling the entire kitchen. “Wanna taste test one?”

Laura hesitated for a second before nodding.

You carefully lifted a cookie from the tray, holding it out to her. “Careful, it’s hot.”

She took it, blowing on it before taking a small bite. You watched as she chewed, her face still neutral, but you could tell she liked it.

“Good, right?” you asked, biting into one yourself.

Laura nodded again, chewing slowly. For a split second, you thought you saw a hint of a smile tug at the corner of her mouth, but it was gone just as quickly as it came.

As you both stood there, munching on cookies, the air felt lighter, like some kind of invisible barrier between you had shifted just a little. You didn’t know all of Laura’s story, but you didn’t need to. What mattered was that she was here, sharing this small moment with you, and that was enough.

“So,” you said after a few minutes, breaking the silence. “What should we do next? More cookies? Or maybe try out that movie?”

Laura looked at the remaining dough, then back at you. “More cookies.”

You grinned. “Good choice. Let’s make this batch even better.”

---

After all the cookies came out of the oven, you sent Laura home with a container of some of the batch. You could never eat them all on your own, and you ended up giving some away anyways, so why not give some to Laura?

You walked Laura to your front door and watched as she crossed the street, her figure disappearing behind the door three houses down. There was always something surreal about the way she moved—so quiet, so controlled, like she had learned to blend into the background. It made you wonder what her life had been like before coming here.

When Laura walked in, the container held tightly to her chest, Logan sat on the couch, the soft murmur of the TV barely audible as he sipped from a whiskey bottle. His eyes flicked over to her as the door clicked shut behind her.

“You were gone a while,” he muttered, his voice rough but not harsh.

Laura shrugged, walking past him toward the kitchen. “Made cookies.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, watching her disappear from view. The faint clinking of a container hitting the counter reached his ears. He knew she didn’t do stuff like this unless someone dragged her into it. “With Y/N?” he asked, taking another sip.

Laura reappeared, nodding as she plopped down beside him on the couch, the container of cookies now on the coffee table.

Logan stared at it for a moment, then gave a small grunt of approval. He reached over and grabbed a cookie from the container, breaking off a piece and popping it into his mouth. He chewed slowly, savoring the sweetness that felt out of place in his usual world of bitterness and whiskey.

“Not bad,” he muttered, glancing at Laura. “You help with these?”

She shrugged again, still watching the TV, but there was a hint of satisfaction in her expression that didn’t go unnoticed by Logan.

“Hmm,” he grunted, leaning back. “Maybe next time, you can bring some whiskey to wash ‘em down.”

Laura didn’t smile, but her lips twitched slightly as if she was trying not to.

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, the low hum of the TV filling the room. Logan’s thoughts drifted back to Y/N. He didn’t trust people easily—never had, and probably never would. But Y/N was different. He’d seen how she handled Laura, how she didn’t push too hard or ask too many questions. And she was patient, something Logan knew he didn’t have much of.

“Y/N’s a good one,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

Laura didn’t say anything, but she shifted slightly, leaning her head against the arm of the couch.

Logan watched her for a moment, then sighed, running a hand through his graying hair. He knew settling down wasn’t really in his nature, but for Laura’s sake—and maybe a bit for his own—he was trying. And Y/N? She made that easier, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

“She ask about me?” Logan asked, more curious than he wanted to let on.

Laura nodded, her eyes still on the screen. “Yeah. I told her you were resting.”

Logan snorted. “Resting. That’s a nice way of putting it.”

Laura didn’t respond, and Logan didn’t push further. He knew what Y/N probably thought—that he was just some grumpy guy with a limp, maybe a few too many scars for comfort. She didn’t know the half of it. But she didn’t pry either, and for that, he was grateful.

“Guess I’ll have to thank her for the cookies,” Logan said after a while, taking another sip from the bottle. His mind wandered to the thought of Y/N—the way she smiled when she was around Laura, how she always seemed to have the right balance of patience and understanding. It wasn’t just anyone who could handle a kid like Laura, let alone make her feel comfortable enough to bake cookies on a Saturday.

“She likes you too, you know,” Laura said suddenly, her voice cutting through the quiet.

Logan’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“Y/N,” Laura clarified, her tone as flat as ever. “She likes you.”

Logan chuckled, though there was a bit of discomfort behind it. “You don’t know that, kid.”

Laura looked at him, her gaze piercing and a little too wise for someone her age. “She does. I can tell.”

Logan stared back at her, caught off guard by how matter-of-fact she sounded. It was hard to argue with Laura when she had that look on her face, the same look that said she saw through everything and didn’t waste time with pleasantries.

He cleared his throat, trying to brush it off. “Yeah, well… that’s her problem, not mine.”

Laura didn’t react, just turned back to the TV. But Logan could feel her eyes on him for a few seconds longer before she settled back into the cushions.

Logan shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of Laura’s words hanging in the air. He wasn’t used to people ‘liking’ him in the way Laura seemed to imply. People tolerated him, sure, maybe even respected him, but liking him? That was new territory.

He let out a sigh and reached for another cookie. It wasn’t worth thinking about. Not right now.

But even as he chewed in silence, he couldn’t shake the thought of Y/N—and what it might mean if Laura was right.

---

A few days later, you found yourself at Logan’s house helping Laura with some of her English homework. You usually don’t make ‘house calls’ to help students, but you couldn’t deny Laura.

Logan stayed seated in the living room, drinking a beer and watching the TV. But really, he was pretending not to listen to their conversation in the kitchen.

“You’re doing good, Laura.” You said.

Laura shrugged, her eyes flicking over to Logan in the living room. “Can you stay for dinner?” She asked you.

Logan’s head snapped up at that. He hadn’t expected Laura to ask, but there was no denying that the kid had gotten attached to you. Before you could answer, Laura added, “I made something. With Logan.”

That was a lie, of course. Laura had barely touched the stove since the cookies, but she gave Logan a look that told him to back her up.

Y/N smiled softly. “I wouldn’t say no to dinner.” She glanced at Logan. “If that’s okay?”

Logan grunted, shifting his weight. “Yeah. ‘Course.”

Laura gave a small nod, clearly satisfied with the answer. You smiled, pushing the papers aside. “Guess I’m staying for dinner, then.”

Logan shot Laura a look, one that said what exactly are we eating? but she ignored him, turning her attention back to you. “It’s nothing fancy,” she said, which wasn’t reassuring.

“Well, I’m excited. Food always tastes better when someone else cooks it,” you joked, standing up to stretch your arms.

Logan watched you from the corner of his eye as he sat back down on the couch, pretending to be more interested in the muted TV than he actually was. You couldn’t help but notice the way he seemed a little tenser whenever you were around, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. He was trying to stay low-key, but you could tell he was keeping tabs on every move you made, every word you said.

“So, what’s on the menu?” you asked, trying to ease the quiet that had settled over the room.

Laura, sitting across from you, didn’t answer right away, like she was carefully considering her next move. Logan’s eyes flicked over to her, waiting for her response.

“Spaghetti,” she finally said, her voice as flat as ever.

You raised an eyebrow, suppressing a smile. “Oh yeah? Sounds good.”

Logan gave a low grunt from the couch, and you could tell by his expression that he was trying to figure out when they’d supposedly made spaghetti. But he didn’t contradict Laura, just took another swig from his beer.

“Well, I’m looking forward to it,” you said, standing up from the kitchen table. “Let me know if you need any help.”

Laura didn’t say anything, just headed to the stove where a pot of water was already simmering. You followed her, glancing at the nearly-empty box of spaghetti on the counter. It was clear she hadn’t done this a lot, but the effort was what mattered. And if it meant spending more time with her—and Logan—you weren’t about to complain.

“I’ll get the sauce going,” you offered, stepping beside her. Laura gave you a slight nod, sliding over to make room.

Logan watched from the couch, his eyes narrowing as if he was weighing the situation. He hadn’t expected you to just roll with it, but then again, you always had a way of adapting.

“So, how’s school?” you asked Laura, trying to keep the conversation light while you opened the jar of sauce.

“It’s fine,” she said, her tone noncommittal.

You stirred the sauce, giving a little shrug. “Well, if you ever need help with any other type of homework, you know where to find me.”

She glanced up at you, her expression unreadable, but something in her eyes softened for a second. “I know.”

The two of you worked in quiet sync, with Laura focusing on the pasta and you keeping an eye on the sauce. It wasn’t long before the kitchen started to smell of tomatoes and garlic, the scent filling the air and making the small space feel cozy. For a while, the only sounds were the bubbling pot and the clinking of utensils.

Logan shifted on the couch, clearing his throat. “Need me to do anything?”

You glanced back at him with a smile. “Just sit there and look pretty, Logan. We’ve got this.”

A low chuckle escaped him, though his face didn’t change much. “That so?”

Laura glanced at Logan, her expression unreadable, but you caught the briefest hint of approval in her eyes before she turned back to stirring the pasta.

Once everything was ready, you and Laura brought the food to the small dining table. You plated up the spaghetti, topping it with sauce and a sprinkle of Parmesan. Logan joined you both, moving slower than he probably realized, and sat down with a grunt.

As you all ate, the room stayed comfortably quiet. It wasn’t one of those forced silences that felt awkward—it was more like everyone was just settling into the moment. Laura was still guarded, but you could tell she was starting to relax, even if it was just a little.

“You did good, Laura,” you said, twirling some spaghetti on your fork. “This tastes great.”

She didn’t say anything, just kept eating, but you saw her shoulders ease up ever so slightly.

Logan, on the other hand, glanced between the two of you, chewing slowly. He hadn’t been big on cooking or anything domestic like this, but he could tell Laura had put in effort. He took another bite, grunting his approval. “Not bad,” he said quietly.

You smiled to yourself. This whole thing wasn’t exactly what you’d planned for the evening, but it was nice in its own way—just simple, like normal people having dinner together.

As you were finishing up, Logan pushed his chair back, grabbing his beer bottle from the table. “I’ll handle the cleanup,” he said, his voice gruff but not unkind.

You raised an eyebrow, standing to gather a few plates. “You sure?”

Logan waved you off. “Yeah. Laura and I got it.”

You nodded, stepping back. “Alright, I’ll leave you to it then.”

Laura watched you quietly, her dark eyes flicking between you and Logan. You could tell she wasn’t used to this kind of thing, the casual ease of sharing a meal and cleaning up afterward. But she was learning, and it seemed like she didn’t mind having you around for it.

“Well,” you said, grabbing your bag from the chair. “Thanks for dinner, you two. I’ll see you around?”

Logan grunted in acknowledgment, giving you a nod. Laura followed you to the door, her small figure standing by your side as you reached for the handle.

Before you could leave, she spoke up. “Will you come over again?” Her voice was quiet, almost hesitant.

You smiled softly. “Of course. Anytime.”

She nodded, her face still unreadable, but there was a certain calmness to her now, a trust that hadn’t been there before.

You gave her a little wave before stepping out into the evening air. As you walked back to your house, you couldn’t help but think about how unexpected this had all been.

---

You muttered to yourself, hanging up the phone. Your sink had started to leak, and even though you were fairly handy, when you tightened the pipes, it did nothing.

So here you were, on your lunch break, looking for a handyman that didn’t want to charge you $200 for a quick fix.

Emma walked in, holding a folder with her lesson plans. “So…”

You rolled your eyes, “don’t start.”

“What! I’ve told you, word travels fast. Rose saw you leavin’ his house last night.”

“Rose?” You shook your head, “that woman is 85 and still gossips like she’s 20.” You put your phone down, “I was helping Laura with her English homework.”

"Helping Laura with her English homework?" Emma raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "You mean, at ten o'clock at night? Sure, Y/N."

You groaned, leaning back in your chair. “It wasn’t like that. She’s struggling with some of the writing prompts, and Logan’s... well, you know he’s not exactly the best person for that.”

“Uh-huh,” Emma nodded slowly, setting her folder down. “I’m just saying, you and him… there’s something there. You can deny it all you want, but people see things.”

“People need hobbies,” you muttered. “Besides, Logan’s... complicated. It’s not that simple.”

“I’m not saying it is,” she shrugged. “But you’ve been spending more and more time with him and Laura lately. I’m just curious.”

You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes at her. “Curious about what, exactly?”

“Just curious when you're going to admit you like him,” Emma smirked.

“I don’t—" you started to argue, but stopped yourself. “Emma, he’s… I mean, I care about him, but it’s not like that. He’s a single dad with a kid, and I’m just the neighbor who helps out sometimes.”

“Yeah, sure, Y/N.” Emma grabbed her folder and gave you a pointed look, “if you don’t make a move, someone on the ‘Wolverine Watchers’ will.”

You choked on the iced coffee you took a sip of, “the what?”

Emma grinned, “the ‘Wolverine Watchers’. A bunch of women in the town created a Facebook group about him. I joined out of curiosity.”

You blinked at Emma, still processing what she’d just said. “Hold on—there’s a Facebook group about Logan? Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” Emma said with a smug smile. “They call themselves the ‘Wolverine Watchers.’ There’s, like, at least 30 women in it. Maybe more.”

You shook your head in disbelief, sinking back into your chair. “That’s insane. Why would anyone even...”

“Oh, please,” Emma interrupted. “Don’t act like you don’t get it. He’s rugged, mysterious, barely speaks to anyone, and he’s got the whole grumpy-silver-fox thing going on. They eat it up. Hell, even I get it.”

You glared at her. “You’re not helping.”

She leaned against the desk, still grinning. “Just saying, don’t wait too long, or one of them might swoop in.”

You waved her off, though a part of you felt oddly defensive about the whole thing. “Logan’s not interested in any of that.”

Emma shrugged, pushing off the desk and heading for the door. “Maybe. Maybe not. But are you interested?”

You opened your mouth to respond before shaking your head. “Okay. I’m going to forget this part of our conversation and continue to try and look for a plumber or handyman.”

Emma laughed, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “Fine, fine. But if you need help with Logan or plumbing, you know where to find me.”

She left the room at the same time Laura walked in. She walked over to the front of your desk and stared at you with those eyes of hers. “You need help?” Laura finally asked.

You shook your head, “no. Just need a plumber. The sink in my kitchen is leakin’.”

Laura tilted her head slightly, considering something. “Why don’t you ask daddy?”

You sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “Because your dad’s busy, and it’s not his problem to deal with. I’ll figure it out.”

“He fixed the dishwasher last week,” she pointed out quietly, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “And the dryer.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to bother him with stuff like this,” you countered, trying to ignore how her face lit up every time she mentioned something Logan had done for you. “I’m sure he’s got enough on his plate.”

Laura didn’t respond right away. Instead, she leaned against your desk, her small fingers tapping lightly on the wood. “He likes helping,” she murmured, almost like she was testing the waters.

You looked at her, raising an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Mhm,” she nodded, but quickly glanced away, pretending to focus on the bulletin board behind you. “He’s good at fixing things.”

You watched her for a moment, your irritation from earlier starting to melt away. It was hard to stay frustrated when she was being so earnest. “Okay, okay, I get it. But your dad doesn’t need to be the town’s go-to handyman.”

Laura glanced up at you through her lashes. “Just tell him. Please?”

There was something almost… hopeful in her gaze, and you felt a twinge of guilt. Laura wasn’t the type to ask for much. If this meant that much to her…

“Fine,” you sighed, holding up your hands in surrender. “I’ll ask him. But only because you asked nicely.”

Laura’s lips twitched in the faintest smile, a look of victory crossing her face. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, but you’re not off the hook yet,” you teased gently. “You still owe me an essay on Newton’s laws of motion, remember?”

She scrunched up her nose, making a face. “I know. I’ll finish it.”

“Good,” you nodded, giving her a playful wink. “And don’t go trying to bribe me with homework just to get me to talk to your dad, okay?”

Laura’s eyes widened in mock innocence. “I would never.”

“Uh-huh,” you said skeptically. “Alright, head back to class. Lunch is almost over.”

She gave a small nod, then glanced back at you before leaving. “He really likes you, you know.”

Your heart stuttered, caught off guard by her bluntness. “Laura—”

“Just saying,” she added quickly before ducking out the door and heading down the hallway.

You stared at the empty doorway, a mix of emotions swirling in your chest. Liking you? What did that even mean coming from an eleven-year-old?

You shook your head, trying to push the thought away. Logan was… well, Logan. Gruff, quiet, and often impossible to read. And sure, he’d been more present lately, but that didn’t mean anything. He was just being a good neighbor.

You glanced at the time on your phone, groaning softly. Lunch was almost over, and you hadn’t even finished setting up for the afternoon class.

“Guess I’ll ask him about the sink,” you muttered under your breath, more to convince yourself than anything.

Because if Laura was already noticing things, how long would it be before the whole town started talking?

---

That evening, after school had ended and you’d finally managed to get through the rest of your lesson plans, you found yourself standing in front of Logan’s place. It was only a short walk down the street, and yet, your feet felt heavier with each step.

You could hear the faint sound of a TV through the open window and the soft murmur of voices—Laura and Logan, probably talking about her day. It was… nice. Domestic. Something that made your chest tighten with an inexplicable emotion.

“Just ask about the sink and go,” you whispered to yourself, giving a firm nod. “No big deal.”

You knocked lightly, and a few seconds later, the door swung open to reveal Logan. He was in his usual attire—flannel shirt, jeans—and he looked at you with that same unreadable expression.

“Hey,” you said, suddenly feeling awkward under his gaze. “I, uh, wanted to ask for a favor.”

His brow furrowed slightly, and he stepped back, gesturing for you to come inside. “What’s goin’ on?”

You hesitated, then took a deep breath. “My kitchen sink started leaking, and… well, I tried fixing it, but I think I made it worse. Laura said you’re good at this kind of stuff, so I thought… maybe…”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You want me to take a look at it?”

“Yeah,” you nodded quickly. “If you’re not too busy. I don’t want to—”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted, already grabbing a toolbox from a nearby shelf. “Let’s go.”

You blinked. “Wait, you don’t want to, like, finish dinner or something first?”

He shot you a look that was almost amused. “I’m not gonna let your kitchen flood because of a sink. C’mon.”

You let out a small laugh, relieved by his reaction. “Okay, fair point. Thanks, Logan.”

“No problem,” he grunted, stepping out onto the porch. “Lead the way.”

As you walked back to your place, you stole a glance at him. Logan might have been gruff and intimidating to most people, but you’d come to learn there was more to him than that.

When you reached your house, Logan set to work immediately, inspecting the pipes under the sink. You leaned against the counter, watching as he tinkered and adjusted, his movements methodical and precise.

“You didn’t have to come over right away,” you said softly, breaking the silence. “I know you’ve got a lot going on.”

He didn’t look up, just shrugged. “It’s fine. Better to fix it now than let it get worse.”

“Yeah, I guess,” you murmured. “But still… thanks.”

Logan glanced at you then, his eyes lingering for a moment longer than usual. “You don’t gotta thank me every time I do somethin’ for you, Y/N.”

“I know,” you replied, offering a small smile. “But I want to.”

He gave a low grunt, something between acknowledgment and dismissal, and returned his focus to the pipes. You stayed silent, watching him work, trying to make yourself useful by occasionally handing him a tool or holding a flashlight.

“You’ve done this before, huh?” you asked, breaking the silence again.

Logan didn’t look up, but you saw the faintest twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “Couple times.”

“Fixing sinks?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “Or just everything?”

“Everything,” he muttered. “You learn to handle stuff when no one else can.”

There was an unspoken weight behind his words, something you didn’t pry into. You knew Logan had been through more than he let on—there were pieces of his life you still hadn’t put together, and you weren’t sure you ever would. But that didn’t stop you from being curious.

Instead, you chose to keep the conversation light. “Well, I appreciate it. I probably would’ve made a bigger mess if I’d kept trying.”

He grunted again, this time almost in agreement, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Okay, I walked into that one,” you admitted. “But seriously, thank you. Laura was right—you are good at this.”

Logan tightened the last pipe and stood, wiping his hands on a rag. “She talks too much sometimes.”

You shook your head, still smiling. “She’s just proud of you.”

He didn’t respond, his eyes darkening for a brief moment before he shifted the subject. “It’s done. Shouldn’t leak anymore, but if it does, just call me.”

You nodded, feeling that strange tightening in your chest again. “Got it. Thanks again.”

Logan grabbed his toolbox and started for the door, but something in the air between you both felt unfinished, like there was something unspoken hanging there. Before you could second-guess yourself, you called out.

“Logan?”

He paused, his back to you.

“I meant what I said earlier,” you continued, a little more quietly this time. “I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, and I don’t want to add to it. But I appreciate you helping me.”

Logan turned, his gaze locking onto yours. There was something in his eyes—something you couldn’t quite place. For a second, you thought he might say something, but then he just gave a slow nod.

“Don’t worry about it, Y/N,” he finally said. “If you need somethin’, I’ll be around.”

He turned and walked out the door, leaving you standing in your kitchen, staring after him. You exhaled, feeling a mix of confusion and warmth.

Later that evening, as you cleaned up and prepared for the next day’s lessons, you couldn’t stop replaying the interaction in your head. Logan’s quietness, his willingness to help, Laura’s knowing smiles. There was something stirring there, something more than just neighborly concern.

But you pushed the thoughts aside, reminding yourself of the practicalities. Logan was a single dad with a complicated past, and you… well, you had your own life to focus on. This wasn’t the time to start overthinking things.

Still, as you drifted off to sleep that night, the image of Logan fixing your sink—focused, calm, and oddly comforting—stayed with you.

---

You’ve never liked storms. You’re not sure why, you grew up in Houston where it rained consistently and encountered a few hurricanes.

But when you turned 18, you went to college further north in Texas, getting away from the rain and finally getting sunshine and real heat, not humid heat.

It never rained much in the north of Minnesota, but when it did rain, it rained a lot. So much so that the school cancelled classes for the rest of the week.

You could use the time to catch up on grading assignments, but instead you found yourself barely able to keep your attention on the TV, flinching every time you heard thunder.

The storm outside raged on, lightning flashing every few seconds, followed by the rumble of thunder that rattled the windows. You glanced at the stack of papers you’d set aside to grade, but your mind just wasn’t in it.

“Why does it always feel worse at night?” you muttered, sinking deeper into the couch, trying to focus on the TV.

Then, a knock at the door startled you. You weren’t expecting anyone, especially with the weather this bad.

You got up, hesitating for a second before opening the door to reveal Laura, soaked from head to toe, holding a small flashlight.

“Laura? What are you doing out here?” you asked, eyes wide with concern.

“Our power went out,” she explained quickly, shivering slightly. “Daddy said I could come over here since your lights are still on.”

You frowned, glancing past her toward Logan’s house, which was barely visible in the heavy rain. “Is your dad coming over too?”

Laura shrugged, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “He said he’d figure it out.”

You closed the door behind her, grabbing a towel from the bathroom and handing it to her. “You should’ve just called, you know. I would’ve come to get you.”

Laura gave you a small smile as she dried off. “It’s fine. I didn’t want to wait.”

You shook your head, unable to suppress a smile at her stubbornness. “Of course you didn’t.”

The two of you sat in the living room for a while, Laura settling into the corner of the couch with her legs tucked under her, still glancing out the window at the storm every so often.

“How long’s the power been out?” you asked after a few minutes.

“Since just after dinner,” she replied. “Daddy was gonna try and fix it, but he said it might take a while.”

You nodded, already feeling a little guilty. If the power didn’t come back on soon, you’d probably end up with both of them staying over. Not that you minded, but it was one of those situations where you didn’t want to impose. Especially with Logan.

Almost on cue, there was another knock at the door, this one heavier, more deliberate.

You didn’t even have to look to know it was Logan.

You opened the door to find him standing there, drenched like Laura had been. His hair was plastered to his head, and his usual gruff expression was softened slightly by the rain dripping from his face.

“Come on in,” you said quickly, stepping aside.

Logan entered, shaking off some of the rain before giving you a nod. “Thanks. Power’s out, and I don’t think it’s comin’ back anytime soon.”

You closed the door behind him and offered him a towel, which he accepted without a word. He glanced over at Laura, who had made herself comfortable on the couch, and then back at you.

“You alright with us bein’ here?” he asked, his voice low but genuine.

“Of course,” you replied, waving it off. “I’m not gonna let you sit in the dark with no heat.”

Logan nodded, though there was something in his eyes—something like gratitude, though he didn’t voice it.

The three of you sat in the living room for a while, the storm still raging outside. It wasn’t exactly the most comfortable silence, but it wasn’t awkward either. Just... quiet. Logan wasn’t one for small talk, and Laura seemed content just to be around people, her gaze flicking back and forth between you and her dad.

As the night wore on, the storm didn’t let up, and Laura’s eyelids started to droop. You glanced at the clock, noting how late it was getting.

“You’re welcome to stay the night,” you offered, glancing between them. “It’s still coming down pretty hard out there, and I don’t think the power’s coming back on soon.”

Laura perked up at the suggestion, but Logan hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with the idea. “We’ll be fine,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t wanna impose.”

“You’re not imposing,” you said firmly, crossing your arms. “There’s a guest bedroom, and I’ve got blankets. Besides, I’m not letting either of you walk back in this mess.”

Laura, sensing her opportunity, chimed in before Logan could object. “I want to stay,” she said quietly, her eyes big and hopeful.

Logan sighed, glancing at his daughter, clearly torn. “Laura…”

“Daddy, it’s still storming,” she added, her voice soft but insistent. “We can stay, right?”

You jumped in before he could refuse. “It’s no trouble, Logan. Really. Laura can take the guest bedroom, and I can sleep on the couch.”

Logan gave you a skeptical look. “You’re not sleepin’ on the couch in your own house.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s your bed,” he grunted. “I’ll take the couch.”

Before you could argue, Laura piped up again, her voice full of innocent mischief. “You could both sleep in the bed.”

Your eyes widened, and you quickly glanced at Logan, whose expression had shifted to one of slight surprise.

“Laura,” you started, but she just shrugged, clearly enjoying this more than she should have been.

“What?” she said innocently. “It’s a big bed.”

Logan sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You’re not helpin’, kid.”

Laura just grinned, her eyes gleaming with quiet victory. “I think I am.”

You cleared your throat, trying to regain control of the situation. “I’m fine with sleepin’ on the couch, really. Can’t really sleep when it’s stormin’ anyways.”

Laura, still lounging on the couch, piped up again, her grin growing wider. “You could just share the bed.”

Your face flushed, and you shot her a look. “Laura—”

“What?” She shrugged, playing innocent, but you could see the hint of mischief in her eyes.

Logan sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Kid, stop messin’ around.”

She held up her hands in surrender, but the teasing smile on her face didn’t budge. “I’m just saying it’s an option.”

You shook your head, feeling a mix of embarrassment and amusement. “Laura, you’re gonna sleep in the guest room. I’ll be on the couch. End of story.”

Laura rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. “Fine.”

Logan glanced at you, his eyes softening for a brief moment before he muttered, “You sure about this? I don’t wanna take your bed.���

You waved him off, trying to sound casual. “Seriously, it’s no big deal. Just get some rest. You’ve been out in the rain long enough.”

He hesitated for a second, then gave a small nod. “Alright. But only because you won’t stop arguin’.”

“Exactly,” you said, smiling a little as you grabbed an extra blanket from the hallway closet and tossed it to Laura. “You can get settled in the guest room, kiddo.”

Laura caught the blanket and headed toward the guest room with a little bounce in her step, clearly pleased with how things were turning out. You watched her disappear down the hallway before turning back to Logan, who was still standing in the living room, looking somewhat out of place.

“You can leave your wet clothes by the door if you want,” you offered, trying to keep things normal, even though the situation felt anything but.

Logan gave a quiet grunt of acknowledgment, pulling off his soaked jacket and hanging it on the back of a chair. He moved slowly, like he was still debating whether to argue about the sleeping arrangements again, but thankfully, he didn’t.

After a minute, he glanced back at you, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You really are stubborn, you know that?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Takes one to know one.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head as he walked past you toward your bedroom. “Fair enough.”

Once he disappeared into the room, you let out a small sigh, running a hand through your hair. This was... not how you expected your night to go. Sharing your house with both Logan and Laura during a storm, with Laura sneakily playing matchmaker. It was almost funny, if not for the fact that Logan being this close made your heart race a little too much for comfort.

You settled back onto the couch, pulling a blanket over yourself and staring at the TV screen without really watching it. The sound of rain pounding against the windows and the occasional crack of thunder filled the quiet, but it was hard to focus on the storm when you knew Logan was in the next room.

Laura had probably planned this all along.

You glanced toward the hallway where the guest room was, wondering if she was already asleep—or if she was lying there, scheming her next move.

Thunder broke you out of your thoughts, making you flinch slightly under the blankets.

You settled deeper into the couch, but sleep wasn’t coming any easier despite the exhaustion from the day. Your mind kept wandering, mostly back to Logan and how natural it had started to feel having him and Laura around. Maybe a little too natural.

A sharp crack of thunder rattled the windows, and you flinched again, instinctively pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders. You’d thought you were getting used to storms, but this one was relentless, dragging on with no signs of easing up.

Just when you started to think you’d be up all night, you heard the soft creak of the floorboards behind you. You turned, expecting to see Laura coming out of the guest room, but instead, Logan stood there in the dim light of the living room, looking as uncomfortable as you felt.

“Can’t sleep?” you asked, your voice quiet but steady, despite the storm.

He shrugged, leaning against the doorway. “Not used to sleepin’ anywhere but my own bed.”

You nodded, biting back a knowing smile. “Yeah, I get that. Storm’s not helping much either.”

Logan’s eyes flicked to the window, then back to you. His gaze was a little softer than usual, like the storm had taken some of the edge off his usual roughness. “You alright? Heard you jumpin’ every time the thunder hits.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to brush off his concern. “It’s nothing. Just... not a fan of storms.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Logan said, stepping further into the room. He hesitated for a moment, then moved to sit on the armrest of the couch, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. “Don’t have to tough it out, y’know.”

You looked up at him, caught off guard by the gentleness in his tone. It wasn’t like Logan to be this open, to offer any sort of comfort. He usually kept things buried under layers of gruffness and distance.

“Guess I’m just used to toughing it out,” you said softly, offering him a small smile.

Logan studied you for a moment, his eyes flicking over your face, like he was weighing his next words carefully. “You don’t always have to. Not with us.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. You weren’t sure what to say. This side of Logan—the quiet, protective side—was something you’d only seen glimpses of before, but tonight, it was like the storm had brought down some of his walls.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” you finally said, but your voice lacked its usual conviction.

“Not worryin’,” Logan replied, his gaze steady. “Just statin’ a fact.”

The thunder rolled again, quieter this time, as if the storm was finally starting to let up. Logan’s eyes lingered on you for a beat longer, before he stood up, looking like he was about to head back to the bedroom.

But then he paused, glancing over his shoulder. “If you want... there’s room in the bed.”

Your breath hitched, and you blinked up at him, not sure if you heard him right. “What?”

Logan’s lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile, but his expression remained serious. “I ain’t suggestin’ what Laura was earlier,” he muttered, a little embarrassed. “Just... if it helps you sleep better, I don’t mind. Couch’s not exactly comfortable.”

Your heart thudded in your chest, caught off guard by the unexpected offer. Logan wasn’t the type to offer comfort lightly, and the idea of sharing a bed with him—platonically or not—made your pulse quicken.

“I—” You faltered, unsure how to respond. But something in the way he was looking at you made it clear this wasn’t just about the storm or being polite. This was about something more—something that had been quietly building between the two of you for a while now.

Before you could overthink it, you nodded. “Okay.”

Logan’s eyebrows raised slightly, surprised by your answer. He stepped aside as you stood, grabbing the blanket from the couch. Neither of you said anything as you walked down the hallway to your bedroom, the tension thick but not uncomfortable—more like an understanding had settled between you.

Once inside, Logan shifted awkwardly as you took your side of the bed, pulling the blanket over yourself, trying to act like this was normal, like your heart wasn’t racing in your chest. Logan laid down on the opposite side, keeping a respectful distance, though the bed felt smaller with him in it.

The sound of the rain outside softened, though the occasional rumble of thunder still rolled in the distance. You stared at the ceiling, hyper-aware of Logan beside you, the space between you feeling charged.

“You good?” Logan asked after a minute, his voice low in the quiet.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I’m good.”

A beat passed. Then another.

“Thanks,” you added, not just for offering the bed, but for being there, for not making this weird.

Logan turned his head slightly to look at you, his eyes soft in the dim light. “Ain’t nothin’.”

But it was something. It was a lot, actually.

You both lay there in silence for a while, the sound of the rain becoming almost soothing. You could feel the warmth of him next to you, solid and reassuring, and slowly, the tightness in your chest began to ease.

Just as your eyes started to drift closed, Logan’s voice broke the silence again, so quiet you almost missed it.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he murmured, his voice gruff but sincere. “You don’t have to do this on your own. Not with us around.”

Your heart swelled, a mix of emotions you weren’t quite ready to confront just yet. You didn’t know what to say, so instead, you reached out, your hand brushing against his in the small space between you.

Logan didn’t pull away. Instead, his fingers curled gently around yours, his grip warm and steady.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you fell asleep without flinching at the sound of thunder.

---

You woke up to the sound of soft rain pattering against the window, the storm from last night finally easing up. For a second, you forgot where you were, until you felt the weight of the blanket and the warmth of another presence next to you. Logan. His steady breathing filled the quiet space, and you shifted slightly, careful not to wake him.

This was new.

You glanced over at him, his face relaxed in sleep, the tension he usually carried nowhere to be found. It was strange seeing him like this—calm, almost peaceful. You could feel the residual warmth from his hand where he’d held yours last night, and the memory made your chest tighten.

Carefully, you slipped out of bed, not wanting to disturb the rare moment of quiet. You padded out into the hallway, stopping by Laura’s room to peek in. She was still asleep, wrapped up in blankets, her small body barely a lump under the covers.

You smiled to yourself, already suspecting that she had something to do with last night’s sleeping arrangements. Laura was too clever for her own good sometimes.

In the kitchen, you started brewing coffee, the scent filling the small space. As you waited for it to finish, you found yourself staring out the window, your mind still on Logan. Last night had been... unexpected. But not unwelcome. The way he’d stayed close, offering comfort without making a big deal out of it—it meant more than you wanted to admit.

The soft creak of footsteps behind you pulled you out of your thoughts.

“You’re up early,” Logan’s gravelly voice broke the quiet.

You turned to see him leaning against the doorway, his hair still a little mussed from sleep, but otherwise looking much like his usual self.

“Couldn’t sleep much after the storm,” you shrugged, offering him a small smile. “Coffee?”

“Yeah,” he grunted, moving to sit at the kitchen table. “Thanks.”

You poured two mugs, setting one in front of him before taking a seat across from him. For a moment, neither of you spoke, just sipping your coffee in the comfortable silence that had settled between you.

Logan glanced at you over the rim of his mug, his eyes softer than usual. “You sleep alright?”

You hesitated, remembering how easily you’d fallen asleep next to him. “Better than I expected, honestly.”

He grunted in acknowledgment, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Guess the storm wasn’t as bad as you thought.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to fight the heat creeping up your neck. “Or maybe it was the company.”

Logan’s smirk widened slightly, but he didn’t push it. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his eyes scanning the kitchen before settling on you again. “Thanks for lettin’ us stay. Laura didn’t give you much choice, huh?”

“She didn’t have to,” you replied with a shrug. “I wasn’t gonna let either of you stay in a freezing house with no power.”

Logan nodded, his eyes drifting to the window. “Power should be back on soon. I’ll head back once it’s up.”

You didn’t say anything, but part of you felt a pang of disappointment at the thought of him leaving so soon. You hadn’t had many moments like this—quiet, with just the two of you—and you found yourself wanting it to last a little longer.

Laura’s quiet footsteps broke the silence as she padded into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

“Mornin’, kid,” Logan greeted her.

“Mornin’,” Laura mumbled, glancing between the two of you with a knowing look before plopping down at the table. “Is the power back on yet?”

“Not yet,” you said, trying to ignore the way she was eyeing you and Logan.

Laura just shrugged, grabbing the cereal box from the counter and helping herself. “Guess we’re stuck here a little longer, huh?”

You shot her a look, but she didn’t seem fazed, her focus on her cereal. It was hard to tell if she was playing innocent or if she was just that good at pretending.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” you asked, trying to shift the conversation.

Laura perked up at that. “You said you’d help me with my English homework, remember?”

You blinked. “I—uh, right. Yeah, I did say that.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, looking at Laura. “Since when do you need help with English?”

Laura shot him a quick look before turning back to you, all smiles. “I figured Ms. Aberra would be better at explaining it than you.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, starting to catch on. “I’m sure you’re doing fine in English, Laura.”

She shrugged, playing with her spoon. “Yeah, but it’s better when someone explains it.”

Logan just shook his head, clearly not buying it either, but he didn’t say anything, letting Laura’s little game play out.

“Well,” you said, getting up from the table. “I guess we can take a look at it after breakfast.”

Laura grinned, clearly pleased with how things were going. “Thanks, Ms. Aberra.”

You smiled back, even though you knew something was up. Sure, you had been helping her with English homework for a while now, but she didn’t need the help. When she would show you her essays or answers to questions about a reading, they were always perfect. Still, you played along, grabbing your coffee and heading toward the living room.

“Alright,” you said, glancing over your shoulder at her. “Go grab your stuff, and we’ll take a look.”

Laura jumped up, cereal forgotten, and dashed off to retrieve her things. You settled onto the couch, sipping your coffee and trying to push aside the strange feeling that this was part of something bigger. But what?

Logan followed you into the living room, sitting down in the worn armchair opposite you. He gave you a look—one eyebrow slightly raised, lips set in that half-smirk he sometimes wore when he was figuring someone out.

“She really roped you into this, huh?” he asked, voice low and rough.

You shrugged, trying to seem casual. “It’s not a big deal. I’m used to kids asking for help with schoolwork.”

“Yeah, but Laura? She doesn’t ask for help unless she’s got some kind of angle.”

You laughed softly, but the truth of his words settled somewhere in the back of your mind. Laura wasn’t just a smart kid—she was calculating. You’d seen it in class and at home. The way she observed things, the way she always seemed to know what was going on, even when no one said a word.

“I guess I’ll find out,” you said, leaning back into the couch.

Before Logan could reply, Laura returned, a small notebook and a pencil in hand. She sat beside you, flipping it open to a random page. You glanced at the page, immediately noticing that it was filled with neat, almost perfect handwriting. The essay she’d written didn’t have a single correction or revision mark.

“Alright,” you began, pretending you didn’t see the perfection in front of you. “What do you need help with?”

Laura handed the notebook over, her face perfectly serious. “I just wanted to know if the introduction’s strong enough.”

You skimmed through the first paragraph, and honestly, it was better than anything you’d expect from a sixth grader. If anything, it felt more like she was testing you than asking for actual feedback.

“It’s good,” you said slowly. “Your thesis is clear, and you have a strong opening sentence. You might want to make the transition to your first point a little smoother, but overall, it’s solid.”

Laura nodded thoughtfully, pretending to make a note in her notebook. You watched her for a moment, trying to figure out what game she was playing. There was no way she needed your help, but for some reason, she wanted you here. And Logan, too.

Logan just sat quietly, watching the two of you like he wasn’t quite sure what was happening either. His hand rested on the arm of the chair, fingers tapping lightly. You could feel his presence, steady and grounding, even when he wasn’t saying anything.

Laura glanced at her dad. “Ms. Aberra’s a pretty good teacher, don’t you think?”

Logan’s eyes flicked to you, his smirk back in full force. “Yeah, I’d say so.”

You gave Laura a suspicious look. “You’re not just buttering me up for extra credit, are you?”

Laura’s eyes widened in mock innocence. “No. I just like the way you explain things.”

“Mhm.” You weren’t buying it, but it was hard not to laugh.

The quiet hung between you all for a moment, just the sound of the rain outside and the occasional scrape of Laura’s pencil against her notebook. It felt… peaceful, despite the nagging feeling that something was going on beneath the surface.

“Alright, well,” you finally said, pushing yourself up from the couch. “Looks like you’ve got this handled, Laura. I don’t think you need much help.”

Laura blinked up at you, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Thanks anyway.”

You caught the look she sent Logan’s way, and suddenly, it clicked. She didn’t need your help with homework—she was just trying to get you to stick around a little longer. Maybe even trying to give you and Logan more time together.

Smart kid.

Logan, of course, said nothing, just watching you with that unreadable expression he wore so well. You could never quite tell what he was thinking, and it both frustrated and intrigued you.

"So," Laura said suddenly, breaking the quiet. "What’s the plan today?"

You glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. "You’re the one with the notebook full of perfect essays. I thought you had plans."

Laura grinned at that, not even trying to hide it anymore. "I was thinking we could all go out for lunch. Since we’re stuck here."

Logan gave her a look, but didn’t say anything, clearly seeing through her. You stifled a laugh, playing along. "Lunch, huh? You paying?"

Laura shrugged, looking way too pleased with herself. "I’ll ask nicely. Maybe you’ll cover it."

You shook your head, pretending to think it over. "Might be able to swing it."

Logan snorted. "Real generous of you."

"Hey, I’m a teacher. Gotta budget wisely," you shot back, smirking at him.

Laura just smiled, clearly happy with how things were going, and it hit you again—she was definitely playing matchmaker. Subtle, but it was there. Not that you minded. Spending more time with Logan wasn’t exactly a hardship.

Logan leaned back in his chair, his eyes still on you, though. "You’re sure you don’t mind us hanging around?"

You tilted your head, genuinely surprised. "Logan, if I minded, I wouldn’t have let you in. You’re both always welcome here."

For a second, he looked like he was going to argue, but then he just gave a slow nod, like he was accepting it—maybe even appreciating it, though he’d never say that out loud. "Thanks."

You shrugged, trying to act like it wasn’t a big deal, even though you knew it kind of was. "Don’t mention it."

Laura got up, stretching her arms over her head before grabbing her empty bowl. "I’ll go get ready for lunch then," she said, already heading to the sink. "I’m starving."

You watched her go, then turned back to Logan, raising an eyebrow. "Think we’ve got time for that before the power comes back on?"

Logan shrugged, his smirk returning. "Could be out a while longer."

"Convenient," you muttered, though there was no real bite to it.

Logan chuckled, a low, rough sound that made something in your chest tighten. He set his empty mug on the coffee table and stood up, stretching slightly. "Guess we better make sure the kid doesn’t eat the place out of food while we wait."

You laughed, following him into the kitchen. The dynamic between the three of you felt easy now, comfortable in a way that surprised you. Even with Laura’s not-so-subtle attempts at matchmaking, there was something natural about how you and Logan were around each other. It wasn’t rushed or forced. Just... right.

Laura appeared from the hallway, already dressed and tugging on her jacket. "Ready when you are," she said, a little too cheerfully.

Logan gave her a look. "We haven’t even decided where we’re going."

"I’ll leave that up to the grown-ups," she said, grabbing her shoes.

You exchanged a glance with Logan, both of you clearly thinking the same thing: this kid was way too clever for her own good. But neither of you called her out on it.

"Alright," Logan finally said, grabbing his jacket. "Let’s get going before the power comes back and ruins her plan."

Laura grinned but didn’t say anything, grabbing your hand as you all headed out into the damp, cool air. The rain had finally stopped, but the sky was still overcast, a soft, gray light filtering through the clouds.

You walked beside Logan, Laura skipping a few steps ahead, her eyes darting around like she was taking everything in. She was always like that—watching, observing. And now you knew why. She was playing a long game, slowly pushing you and Logan closer together, little by little.

You couldn’t help but smile. She was good. Really good.

And maybe, just maybe, you were starting to appreciate her efforts.

---

The school did something special for parents on Valentine’s Day. Instead of just handing out donuts or cupcakes, they did a competition.

There was different challenges for each couple, or pairing, to finish, and to make it even better, their kids would have to guide them on certain challenges, like walking blindfolded to the finish line on the field.

Emma glanced over at you as you were going through the list of parent’s names, making sure everyone had a partner. There were a few single parents, so you had to figure out who they should be paired with. But there was an odd number, one parent would have to sit out.

“So… who’s sitting out?” Emma asked, leaning on the desk next to you. She had that casual curiosity in her tone, but you knew she was just as invested in making sure things ran smoothly as you were.

You chewed your lip, staring at the list. “Looks like we’ve got one extra parent. I’m not sure yet.”

Emma peeked over your shoulder, scanning the names. “What about Logan?”

You paused, looking at the list. Logan’s name was there, as was Laura’s, but you hesitated. He wasn’t exactly the type to jump into school events, especially one that involved blindfolds and teamwork. And while he’d been involved in Laura’s life, you weren’t sure he’d want to participate in something like this.

“Yeah, guess he can sit out. We have an odd number of parents anyways.” You put down the clipboard and looked at the empty donut box, “I’ll be right back. Gonna go to the other room and get another box.”

As you moved toward the door, you noticed Laura sitting quietly in the corner, fiddling with her notebook, watching everything with that usual sharpness in her eyes. She had been quiet all morning, almost too quiet. You gave her a smile before heading to the break room, still feeling a little awkward about pairing up the parents.

Emma stayed behind, her eyes flicking between you and Laura, a slight smirk tugging at her lips like she was onto something.

You weaved through the hallway, your mind still on the whole situation. These parent events were always a little tricky when it came to single parents. You knew Logan wasn’t exactly the type to jump into the school scene, especially for something like a Valentine’s Day competition, but you couldn’t help but think maybe he’d want to give it a shot for Laura.

Grabbing the donut box, you paused for a second. The idea of Logan being there today, paired up with someone else, didn’t sit right. Not that you had any reason to feel that way. It was just... Logan. You weren’t even sure if he’d show up.

When you returned to the room, Laura was still sitting there, now scribbling something in her notebook. She glanced up as you entered, her expression neutral but her eyes watching you closely.

“Everything okay?” you asked, setting the fresh box on the table and moving to grab the clipboard again.

Laura nodded. “Yeah, just thinking.”

“Thinking about the competition?” You smiled, trying to make conversation, but she just gave you a vague shrug.

“Something like that.”

Emma glanced at you, her smirk still there as she made a little noise of amusement. “Logan didn’t strike me as the ‘competition’ type. But who knows?”

You shot her a look, but before you could respond, the door swung open, and Logan walked in. Speak of the devil. He looked around, taking in the sight of parents getting ready, kids buzzing with excitement. His eyes landed on you, and he gave a short nod, his usual gruff greeting.

“You’re here,” you said, surprised, trying to keep your voice casual. “Didn’t think you’d make it.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, his hands in his pockets. “Laura signed us up. Thought I’d better show.”

Laura, sitting nearby, perked up but kept her face mostly neutral. She wasn’t about to blow her cover, not yet anyway.

“Right,” you said, glancing down at the clipboard. “Well, there’s an odd number of parents, so... I was thinking maybe you’d sit out.”

Laura, quick as ever, jumped in. “Or you could partner with someone else.”

You blinked at her, caught off guard. “Well, yeah, I guess, but we don’t really have—”

“You could partner with Daddy.” Laura said it so simply, like it wasn’t a big deal, like she hadn’t been plotting this for weeks.

Logan’s eyes narrowed slightly as he glanced between the two of you, clearly realizing what his daughter was doing, but he didn’t say anything. He just stood there, waiting for your reaction.

You stammered a bit, caught completely off guard. “I—I don’t know if that’s a good idea...”

Laura gave you a look, one that said she knew exactly what she was doing. “It’s just for the competition. Besides, it’ll be fun.”

Logan’s gaze flicked to you again, and this time, there was a slight smirk on his face. “It’s just a game, right? We’ll survive.”

Emma, watching the whole thing play out, was trying very hard not to laugh. “Looks like you’re stuck with Logan, Y/N.”

You felt a wave of heat rise in your cheeks. It was one thing to think about spending time with Logan, but being thrown into a school competition with him—especially with Laura being the mastermind behind it—was another.

“Okay, fine,” you muttered, trying to act like this wasn’t a big deal at all. “I guess we’ll partner up.”

Logan just gave a nonchalant shrug. “Let’s get this over with.”

Laura’s eyes practically sparkled with victory as she hopped up from her seat, already heading toward the field where the first challenge would take place. You followed, trying to shake off the awkwardness, but it was impossible with Logan right next to you.

As you reached the field, the first task was announced: a three-legged race. Of course. Out of all the challenges, it had to be this one. You glanced over at Logan, who was already eyeing the ropes being handed out for the pairs to tie their legs together.

"This should be interesting," Logan muttered under his breath, taking one of the ropes and holding it out for you.

You raised an eyebrow, trying to hide your nerves behind a smile. "I feel like this is a recipe for disaster."

Logan’s lips quirked into a smirk. "Only if you don’t keep up."

"Me?" You chuckled, shaking your head as you bent down to tie the rope around your ankle and his. "You’re the one with the bum leg."

Logan grunted, not arguing, though his usual swagger was still intact. "I’ll manage."

Laura stood off to the side, watching with a faint smile, clearly enjoying the show. You could tell she was pleased with herself, and part of you was too, even if you were trying to act like this was no big deal.

"Alright, ready?" Logan asked, standing up straighter after securing the rope.

"As I’ll ever be," you replied, trying to gauge the best way to navigate the race without falling flat on your face.

The whistle blew, and before you knew it, you were awkwardly hopping forward, one leg bound to Logan’s as you tried to find some sort of rhythm. The first few steps were disastrous—Logan’s longer strides making it nearly impossible for you to keep pace without stumbling.

"Slow down!" you laughed, grabbing his arm to steady yourself as you nearly tripped.

Logan smirked, his hand quickly coming to your waist to keep you from toppling over. "You gotta move faster than that, Y/N."

"Or maybe you need to move slower!" you shot back, trying to adjust your steps to match his. After a few shaky moments, you finally found a rhythm, the two of you moving in sync—well, mostly. Logan’s hand lingered at your waist, steadying you as you both half-hopped, half-laughed your way toward the finish line.

"Not bad," Logan grunted as you crossed the line, not quite first, but definitely not last either.

"Not bad?" You shot him a look, still a little breathless from laughing. "I’m pretty sure we almost face-planted three times."

"Could’ve been worse," he replied with a shrug, that smirk of his still in place.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny the way your heart was still racing—though you weren’t sure if it was from the race or from the fact that Logan had kept his arm around your waist longer than necessary.

Laura, waiting at the sidelines, gave you both a knowing look as you untied the rope. "You guys were pretty good," she commented casually, though the glint in her eyes said otherwise.

"Pretty good?" you echoed, shooting her a playful glare. "We almost ate dirt, Laura."

Logan grunted in agreement but didn’t say much, just shaking his head as he rubbed his leg a bit. You noticed the slight grimace that flashed across his face—something you hadn’t seen often, but it was there for just a moment before he covered it up.

"Next challenge is... egg balancing," Emma announced from the other end of the field, holding up a spoon and a carton of eggs.

You and Logan exchanged a look, and you couldn’t help but laugh. "Oh, this’ll be fun."

Logan just sighed, clearly less than thrilled about the prospect of trying to balance an egg on a spoon, but he didn’t protest. You handed him one of the spoons as you lined up for the next round.

"You got a steady hand?" you teased, raising an eyebrow at him.

Logan glanced at the spoon, then back at you. "Steadier than yours, probably."

"Let’s see about that," you shot back, placing the egg carefully on your spoon. The whistle blew, and you both started across the field, trying to keep the fragile eggs from toppling off. You had to admit, Logan had a surprising amount of focus for a guy who usually looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.

"Not bad for an old man," you joked, glancing over at him as you both carefully moved toward the finish line.

"Careful, Y/N. That’s how you get egg on your face," Logan muttered, but you could hear the amusement in his voice.

Just as you were nearing the end, Laura darted over, watching closely. "Come on, you guys can do it!"

It was hard to ignore the pride in her voice—she was definitely enjoying watching you two work together. And maybe, despite the ridiculousness of it all, you were too.

By the time you finished, both of your eggs still intact, you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of accomplishment. It was silly, sure, but being paired with Logan for these goofy challenges wasn’t as awkward as you thought it might be. In fact, it was... kind of nice.

"Two for two," Logan said with a smirk, handing his spoon back as the event wrapped up.

"Don’t get too cocky," you replied, bumping his arm lightly as you handed yours in too. "We’ll see how you do with the next one."

Laura appeared beside you again, her eyes bright. "You guys make a good team."

You gave her a sideways glance, trying not to read too much into her words. "Yeah, well, it’s all about teamwork, right?"

Logan didn’t say anything, but his eyes met yours for a brief moment, and there was something there—something unspoken that made your heart skip a beat.

The rest of the day went by in a blur of silly games and laughter, and by the time the event was over, you were exhausted, but in the best way possible. Logan had stayed the whole time, never complaining or trying to bow out early. Laura, of course, was thrilled with how things had turned out, and you couldn’t help but feel like she had succeeded in whatever plan she had been cooking up.

As the parents and kids started to trickle out of the school, you found yourself standing beside Logan near the door. Laura had already run ahead to grab her things, leaving the two of you alone for a moment.

"Thanks for sticking around," you said, glancing up at him. "I know this probably wasn’t your idea of a fun day."

Logan shrugged, his usual nonchalant expression in place. "Wasn’t so bad."

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. "Well, I’m glad you came. Laura seemed to really enjoy it."

"Yeah," Logan agreed, his gaze softening slightly as he looked in the direction where Laura had run off. "She’s a good kid."

"She is," you said, nodding. "And she’s lucky to have you."

Logan didn’t respond right away, but after a moment, he gave a small nod. "Thanks."

There was a brief silence between you, the air charged with something unspoken but palpable. Before you could say anything else, Laura came bounding back, her backpack slung over one shoulder.

"Ready to go?" she asked, looking between the two of you with that same knowing glint in her eyes.

"Yeah," Logan said, ruffling her hair lightly. "Let’s get outta here."

As they started to head for the door, Logan paused, glancing back at you. "See you around, Y/N."

"Yeah," you replied, feeling your heart skip again. "See you around, Logan."

---

It had been a few days since the Valentine’s Day event, and things had settled back into routine. You were sitting in your living room, halfway through grading papers, when there was a knock on your door.

Opening it, you found Logan standing there, hands shoved in his pockets, looking slightly out of place.

"Hey," he greeted, voice low. "Laura wanted me to ask if you'd join us for dinner tonight. Nothing fancy. Just... thought it’d be nice."

You blinked, surprised by the invitation. Logan wasn’t exactly the type to invite people over casually, but something about the way he stood there, slightly awkward, made your heart skip a beat.

"Sure," you said, smiling. "I’d like that."

Dinner at Logan’s place was unexpectedly warm. Laura set the table with care, and you found yourself laughing more than you expected as Logan recounted some old stories about his past. The tension that usually simmered between you felt different tonight—softer, like you were slowly crossing an invisible line you’d both been careful to avoid.

As you helped clear the dishes, your hand brushed against Logan’s, and the brief contact made you pause. He glanced at you, and for a moment, neither of you moved. It was like a quiet acknowledgment of something building between you.

“Thanks for coming,” he said, his voice low, his gaze lingering just a little too long.

“Anytime,” you replied softly, feeling the weight of his eyes on you as you turned to put the plates away. You tried to ignore the flutter in your chest, but it was hard with Logan standing so close. It was like every time you were around him, you felt like something unspoken hovered between you—something that Laura, in her quiet, clever way, seemed determined to help along.

Laura wandered back into the room, a book in her hands. “Y/N, can you help me with my English homework?” she asked, holding it up and glancing between you and Logan like she hadn’t just interrupted a moment.

You blinked, turning to her with a small smile. “Of course, I can take a look.”

“Great!” Laura said, her voice a little too cheerful. She plopped down on the couch and spread her notebook and book out in front of her. “It’s this essay I’ve got to write.”

Logan lingered by the kitchen counter, his eyes flicking to Laura’s book with an expression you couldn’t quite read. “I’ll leave you two to it, then,” he muttered, and before you could say anything, he was stepping outside, probably to get some fresh air or give you and Laura some space.

You turned your attention back to Laura, still smiling but a bit confused. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got here.”

Laura launched into an explanation, talking about a character analysis she needed to do for class. As you glanced over her notes, though, it struck you that everything was pretty much perfect. Her sentences were clear, her argument made sense, and she’d clearly put a lot of thought into it. Like always, it was perfect.

“Laura… this is really good,” you said slowly, giving her an impressed look. “I don’t think you need help with this.”

Laura’s face stayed impassive, but you caught a faint hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Just wanted to make sure it was okay,” she said casually, glancing in the direction Logan had gone.

Something clicked then, and you had to suppress a chuckle. So this was just another one of Laura’s little schemes to get you to stick around. You were starting to see the pattern—tiny excuses to keep you close, to get you and Logan in the same room more often. It was subtle, but now that you were catching on, it was impossible to miss.

“Well, your essay’s great,” you said, folding your arms as you gave her a knowing look. “But I think there’s more going on here than just English homework.”

Laura’s gaze stayed steady on yours, and for a moment, you could see a glimpse of something deeper in those eyes—something far beyond her years. “He’s lonely,” she said quietly, so softly that you almost missed it.

Your heart gave a small squeeze at that. It was true that Logan always seemed like a man on the outskirts of everything, never quite fitting in. And you knew he and Laura had been through a lot together, more than most people could imagine. But he wasn’t exactly the type to talk about his feelings—or admit he might need someone else in his life.

“Maybe,” you replied gently, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder. “But that’s something he has to figure out on his own, okay?”

Laura nodded slowly, but she didn’t look entirely convinced. “He likes you,” she said, blunt as ever. “And you like him.”

Your cheeks heated, and you glanced away, trying to keep your voice steady. It wasn’t the first time Laura has said something like this. “It’s not that simple, Laura.”

“Why not?” she asked, her brow furrowing like she genuinely didn’t understand.

You struggled to find the right words. How could you explain that things with Logan were complicated—that you weren’t sure where you stood with him, or if there was even a place for you in his life beyond being Laura’s teacher? And yet, every time you were near him, there was this pull, this quiet magnetism that made you wonder.

“I just… don’t want to mess things up,” you admitted finally, feeling a little silly for having this conversation with an eleven-year-old.

Laura’s gaze softened, and she reached out to squeeze your hand. “You won’t.”

Before you could respond, the door swung open, and Logan stepped back inside, his gaze immediately going to the two of you. “Everything okay?” he asked, his tone gruff but laced with something you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

“Yeah, we’re good,” you said quickly, trying to push down the strange mix of emotions Laura’s words had stirred up. You stood up, smoothing down your shirt as you gave him a smile. “I should probably get going, though. It’s getting late.”

Logan nodded, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something that almost looked like disappointment. “I’ll walk you out.”

He led you to the door, and you hesitated for a moment, glancing back at Laura. She gave you a small, encouraging smile, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Thanks again for coming,” Logan said as he opened the door, his voice a little softer than usual.

“Anytime,” you replied, echoing your earlier words as you stepped outside. The cool night air hit you, and you wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling the weight of Logan’s gaze on you.

There was a long pause, the kind that felt like something should be said, but neither of you knew what. You shifted on your feet, biting your lip as you glanced up at him.

“Logan, I—”

“Y/N, I—”

You both spoke at the same time, then paused, sharing a startled laugh.

“You first,” Logan muttered, his lips twitching into a faint smile.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “I just… I wanted to say that I really enjoyed tonight. And I know Laura’s been… well, playing matchmaker or something,” you added with a chuckle, “but I just want you to know that I’m not—”

“Using her as an excuse to get close?” Logan finished for you, his voice dry but not unkind.

You nodded, feeling a little self-conscious. “Yeah.”

Logan stood there, his eyes steady on yours, and for a moment, you both let the silence fill the space between you. He shifted his weight, his usual stoic expression softening just a bit, and for the first time, it felt like he was truly considering what to say next.

"Look, I know Laura's been trying to push things," he said, his voice low and gruff, but gentler than usual. "She's... smart, too smart sometimes. But this—tonight—it wasn’t just about her."

You blinked, surprised by his admission. You weren’t used to Logan being so open, especially about anything personal. He seemed to read the surprise in your face and let out a quiet sigh, rubbing the back of his neck like this was harder for him than any physical fight he’d been in.

"What I mean is," he continued, glancing at the ground before his eyes flicked back up to yours, "it’s not just her, Y/N. I didn’t mind tonight. And that’s not something I say often."

Your breath hitched a little at his words, heart beating a little faster. There was a vulnerability in Logan that you weren’t expecting—a side of him that he clearly didn’t let out much, if at all.

"I didn’t mind it either," you said softly, trying to match his tone, to let him know you weren’t taking this lightly. "And Laura... well, she’s got a way of seeing things."

Logan let out a quiet chuckle, a rare sound that caught you off guard. "Yeah, she does. Sometimes I think she’s too smart for her own good." His eyes softened as he spoke about her, a fondness there that made you smile.

"She just wants you to be happy," you said gently. "And, I guess, maybe me too."

Logan looked at you for a long moment, something unspoken passing between you, and for the first time, you wondered if maybe—just maybe—there was something more here than just a shared concern for Laura. You had always admired Logan’s strength, his quiet loyalty, the way he looked after Laura with such fierce protectiveness. But standing there now, with the night air cool against your skin and Logan’s presence so close, it felt different. More personal.

"You know," Logan said after a long pause, his voice low again, "I don’t exactly have a lot of people in my life. Never been good at that sort of thing. But... you’re good with Laura. And you’re—" He stopped, his jaw tightening for a second like he wasn’t sure if he should say the next part. "You’re good for us."

Your heart thudded in your chest, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond. His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and you could feel the weight of what he wasn’t saying—the layers beneath that simple statement. You’re good for us. It wasn’t just about being Laura’s teacher anymore. It was about something more.

Your heart thudded in your chest, but you forced a smile to keep things light. “Good for you?” you repeated with a slight chuckle. There was an ache there, something that hinted at how much more those words meant coming from Logan—someone who didn’t let people in easily. The way he looked at you, steady and deliberate, made it hard to brush aside. His eyes held yours a little longer than usual, almost daring you to look away.

"Yeah," he replied, his voice a low rumble, and you couldn’t help but notice how the weight of the night seemed to gather between you, thick in the air. Logan’s usual guarded stance had softened, just enough for you to sense it. He stepped a bit closer, enough that you could feel the faint warmth of him, the earthy scent of cigars and the wild outdoors clinging to his skin.

You shifted on your feet, trying to figure out where this was heading, but the flutter in your chest only grew stronger. Something unspoken seemed to pass between you two, like a current beneath the surface, waiting for one of you to reach down and touch it.

“I think Laura’s got something figured out,” you admitted, voice soft as you kept your eyes on him. “She’s smart enough to see what’s happening here.”

Logan’s lips quirked into a small, barely-there smile. “Yeah, too smart sometimes.” His gaze fell to the ground for a moment, and when he looked back up at you, there was something different there—something raw. “But she’s right. You’re good for us. Hell, you’re good for me.” His words carried a weight, a kind of honesty that took you by surprise, even though deep down, you’d been hoping to hear them for a while.

You swallowed, trying to keep your composure, but your pulse quickened. “Logan, I…” You started to say something—anything—to break the tension, but the words stuck in your throat. He was so close now, you could feel the heat radiating off him, and there was a wildness in his eyes that drew you in.

And then, as if some invisible line snapped, Logan took another step toward you, his rough hand reaching out to cup your cheek. His thumb grazed your skin, the touch light but electrifying. “I don’t say things like this often,” he muttered, his voice husky, the growl in it more pronounced now, “but I want you to stay close. For Laura, yeah, but... for me too.”

Your breath hitched as his words sank in, your body reacting to the closeness of him, the way his hand lingered on your cheek. It wasn’t just the softness in his eyes or the tenderness of his touch, but the way he was looking at you, like he was seeing more than just the surface.

“I’ve wanted to stay close,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper, as your hand gently touched his chest. His heartbeat was strong, steady, and you couldn’t help but feel drawn in, like the pull between you was more than just chemistry.

Logan’s gaze dropped to your lips, and for a moment, everything else faded away—the cool night air, the sound of distant traffic, even the faint light from inside the house. All that mattered was the closeness, the way you could feel his breath mingling with yours.

Before you knew it, Logan was leaning in, and you closed the gap without thinking. His lips pressed against yours, rough and warm, and everything else just melted away. The kiss was slow at first, almost tentative, but then it deepened, and the heat between you flared like wildfire.

His other hand found your waist, pulling you closer against him, and you could feel the solid strength of his body as you pressed into him. The kiss was everything you hadn’t let yourself think about for so long—filled with a hunger that had been simmering beneath the surface, waiting to spill over.

Logan kissed like he lived—intensely, without holding back. His grip on your waist tightened as if he was afraid to let go, and you responded in kind, threading your fingers into the rough texture of his hair. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing; just the two of you, connected in this raw, unexpected moment.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, you both stood there for a moment, neither of you saying anything. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and Logan’s forehead rested against yours, his breath still ragged.

“I—” you started to speak, but he cut you off, his voice low and hoarse.

“Don’t,” he muttered, shaking his head slightly. “Don’t ruin it with words, not yet.”

You nodded, biting back whatever thought was trying to escape. The night air felt cooler now, the warmth of Logan’s body contrasting sharply against it, grounding you in the moment. His hand lingered on your waist, thumb brushing your side, and you could feel the slight tremor in his fingers, like even he was surprised by what just happened.

After a long silence, he finally spoke, voice quieter than before. “Didn’t think this’d happen,” he admitted, almost to himself.

You gave a soft laugh, still trying to catch your breath. “Me either.”

His lips quirked into the faintest of smiles, and he shifted slightly, his hand moving from your waist to gently brush your cheek. The gesture was so uncharacteristically tender for him that it made your heart twist a little.

For a moment, you both just stood there, the weight of everything unspoken hanging between you. Part of you wanted to step back, to put some distance between you and Logan, to give yourself a chance to think. But another part—the stronger part—wanted to stay right where you were, feeling the warmth of his hand on your skin, the rough edge of his thumb grazing your cheek.

Meanwhile, Laura peeked through the blinds, a smile spreading across her face.

tags: @freythecrazyfae

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 40: Where Do We Go From Here?

Summary: Things aren't going as smoothly as anyone would like. Maybe they can fix it. Maybe they can't.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 5,970 words

Warnings: Angst, discussion of nightmares, PTSD, discussion of death and killing people, emotions, so many emotions, angst, a little sliver of comfort

A/N: And it is back!! not super proud of this one but I'm starting out on a filler so...yeah. Really just setting up for the next part where some action starts again. You'll see. Anyway, glad to be back at it and I hope you enjoy!

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

John stands at the door, gazing out at the yard. It’s pouring rain, dumping buckets on the roof. The water has pooled on the planks of the deck, splattering with every big drop that pours from the sky. The weather once again mirrors your mood, your sobs audible from your room over the pounding on the roof. 

John holds his mug in his hands, staring at the reflection in the window. Kyle and Johnny are sitting on the couch, both looking like kicked puppies. They’re itching to enter your room and go comfort you, but they’ve been kicked out for now. You’re not in the state of mind to be around any of them right now, no matter how badly your sobs tear at their heartstrings. 

You haven’t been in that state of mind for a few hours now. 

Whatever nightmare had plagued your mind last night, it was particularly awful. You’ve been up since the early hours, waking from a nightmare with a terrified scream that had continued until Kyle finally got you to stop and breathe. His ears are still ringing with it, his mind still pulsing with that fear. Something happened. Someone got in. Someone hurt you. 

Nothing happened. No one got in.  

The only threat was still just in your mind. 

Graves. 

He knows that’s at least part of your nightmares. Christine had disclosed that to him quietly on the side. Even she doesn’t know everything that plagues your dreams, but Graves seems to be a common specter in the darkness of your mind. 

It makes his blood boil, and not just out of anger for what Graves did to you. 

It boils with anger at himself too. 

It’s his fault you’re in this state in the first place. He should have known, he should have seen, he should have suspected. He should have never left you there. You should have been his priority over anything else. 

How badly he’s failed you. 

He lets out a sigh, turning away from the window to move over to the couches. He sinks down with a sigh, resting his elbows on his knees. The little progress you’ve made has regressed with this new string of nightmares, the fear pushing you further and further back into your mind. He’s resolved himself to only get worried when Christine is worried, and right now she’s beginning to look worried. If you regress back again, the chances of bringing you out of that are slim. Sure, there are plenty of options to help, but you have to want them to help. 

He knows exactly what will help, you just don’t want it. 

He runs a hand through his hair as your sobs begin to quiet. It’s longer than he’s let it get for a long time. They’re all a bit scraggly and ragged looking, worn down and lazy now that there’s no strict rules guiding their lives. None of them quite know what to do outside of the regulations they’ve spent the better parts of their lives living under. He’s been in the military longer now than he hasn’t, and he’s been finding himself itching for that structure again. He can never bring himself to relax and put the job aside even on leave. He only takes it when he has to and usually spends it training and keeping his skills sharp. 

Now...now things have changed. 

They have no return now. There’s no clear, set time that they have to return to base. They can’t return to base. It would leave them too open to a possible retaliation from Shepherd. They were betrayed by one of their own already, who's to say someone else wouldn’t be just as eager to become a traitor for a chunk of cash? They’re not even truly safe here. 

How are they going to go back to base after this? Can he bring himself to take you back there, a place you never felt comfortable in the first place? 

Where do they go from here? 

He’s been trying not to think too much about it. That’s a dilemma for a different day. That’s thinking too far ahead. Day by day is as far as he dares to take it now. 

The door closes quietly, John’s head lifting to watch Christine as she approaches the couch. There’s a slump to her shoulders, something that’s been getting lower and lower as the days have progressed. She’s struggling with this just as much as they all are. 

She sinks down on the couch, letting out a long breath. Your sobs have quieted, no sound coming from the room now. The silence is almost eerie after days of constant sounds, good and bad from your room. You were doing better. You were looking more alive and well. 

Then this happened. 

“She’s asleep.” Christine says, her voice strained. “Finally calmed down enough to nap.” She covers her eyes with a hand, sitting there still for a moment. 

“The nightmares?” John asks, glancing at Christine out of the corner of his eye. 

“Worse.” She says, her gaze far away. “She's remembering what happened.” 

John stares at Kyle and Johnny for a moment, the betas returning his worried gaze.

“Those shadows she killed...” Johnny says.

Christine nods. “She's, uh, not taking it well.” 

John runs a hand over his face. He knew it was possible you'd start to remember what happened during the time your omega took control. It wouldn't remain a dark spot forever, though he hoped it would. The things you were forced to do are coming to light now, the things you did to survive because they failed you. Taking the life of someone who deserves it is nothing to them. Taking the life of someone who would take yours just as quickly isn't so much as a second thought. 

You're not like them. 

You've never had to face that reality before, and you shouldn't have had to. 

“One of us should talk to her.” Kyle says.

“I don't think that's the best idea right now.” Christine shakes her head. “She's...regressed a bit. Pushing that on her, while well intentioned, might do more harm than good...” she trails off, her gaze still far away. 

The three of them sit there, waiting for what she’s going to say next. He’s not even sure Johnny or Kyle are breathing as they wait patiently for whatever solution Christine might be able to come up with, whatever move she thinks is the best one to take next. 

“I want to take her out.” Christine says. 

“What?” John asks in surprise. 

“She needs to get out of the house. It’s not doing any of us any good sitting in here all day.” She rubs her eyes. “She expressed interest in going for a walk a couple days ago. She needs to get up and moving, start regaining some of her strength.” 

John lets out a breath leaning back against the couch. He’s tempted to say no. His knee jerk reaction is to refuse. The world outside isn’t safe. If anyone is watching, if anyone sees them...

There’s always going to be that risk though, and Christine is right. Sitting in the house all day isn’t doing any of them any good. They’re at the mercy of the rain, but even then, he doubts it will keep any of them trapped inside for long. 

“When the rain clears up.” He finally says. “We'll discuss it more. But, I think that might be a good idea.” 

“What can we do?” Kyle asks, staring at Christine. 

She lets out a sigh, covering her eyes with her hand. “I don’t know. I’ve helped hundreds of omegas in crisis and yet I don’t know why this case is so hard.” 

“This has become more personal than those cases.” John says. 

Christine’s shoulders slump even more. “I know. I try so hard but she’s just so...different from other omegas.” 

“This entire situation is different from what you’ve done before.” Kyle says. 

“You’re right.” Christine sighs. “The best we can do is let her lead. Do what she needs, give her what she wants. The worst thing that can happen right now is regression. If she regresses too far, we might never get her back.” 

“What is it? Tell me what ye need.” 

“Can you make me forget?” 

“I wish I could.” 

“Hit me hard enough on the head I might forget everything. Then we can all just start over.” 

“That’s not funny.” 

“It wasn’t supposed to be.” 

“Kitten,” Johnny sighs, leaning his elbows on his knees. “I wish I could make those thoughts go away. I wish I could make them mine.” 

“I killed people.” 

“I know.” He reaches out, touching your hand. “I wish ye didnae have to. Ye were just defending yerself. Those Shadows would have done worse to ye if ye hadn’t.” 

You curl up in your chair, turning away from him. “That’s not helpful.” 

“Sorry.” He says, letting out another sigh. “We just want to help ye.” 

You’re silent for a moment, sitting there listening to the waves. It’s cold this morning, not even the thick blanket draped over you offering much respite. It’s the first morning it hasn’t poured rain in days and you were determined to take full advantage of it despite the objections of your pack. 

“I know.” You finally say, staring out at the grey clouds looming on the horizon. The rain will return, just like the dark thoughts constantly swirling in your mind. They make you sick, nausea constantly churning in your stomach and threatening to rise. 

Johnny wraps his hand around yours, his palm warm against your cold skin. “Should head inside. Gonnae catch a cold.” 

“You know that’s a myth right?” You say, tilting your head to stare at him. 

“No it’s not.” He says, pulling your hand between his. “It’s not good for ye being out in the cold.” 

“I’ll live.” You say, trying to pull your hand from his, but he holds you firm. He’s stubborn, but so are you. 

“Kitten...” He says, almost whining at you. “Go inside please.” 

You let out a sigh, staring out at the horizon again. The clouds promise more rain soon, another downpour on its way. You hate it, how much it’s been raining. You just want to be outside, down at the beach, going on walks. Your pack won’t let you though, not while it’s raining, even though they often leave no matter the weather. 

It’s not fair. 

You’re not a fragile flower and you’re tired of being treated that way. Even though your brain feels like it’s in a blender constantly. Even though the pain of what happened still drives into you like a knife, you just want to be treated like a normal human being again. 

“Fine.” You sigh, pushing yourself up to stand. “I’ll go inside.” 

Johnny grabs your arm before you can head back in the door. “Ye know we just want the best for you.” 

You stare at him for a long moment, emotions swirling in your mind. They are trying. You’ll give them that credit. They’re trying, but not hard enough. “What you think is best and what’s actually best isn’t always the same.” 

He looks like a kicked puppy as he lets you go. You turn away before you can feel guilty, heading back inside the cottage. 

You pull the blanket tighter around you as you stare at the flickering flames in the hearth. The heat is intense so close, but it’s warming the chill under your skin. It’s getting colder at night, foretelling the upcoming winter. All the blankets in the world couldn’t fight off the chill that’s settled in you at night. You know what might help, but you’re not brave enough to approach that solution. 

The footsteps on the stairs don’t startle you in the otherwise silent house, the creak of them audible over the crackle of the logs in the fire. 

“I’d add another one.” A voice says from behind you. 

“I’m going to.” You say, reaching for the stack next to the fireplace. 

“Careful. Put it on the side.” 

“I know how to make a fire, thank you.” You snap, shoving the log in before moving it into place with the poker. “I’m not useless.” 

“Didn’t mean to imply you were.” It’s silent for a moment as you settle back into place. “What are you doing out here?” 

“I’m cold.” You answer simply, not feeling up to giving an entire expose on your current state of mind to the person you want to speak to the least right now. 

“We can turn the heat up more.” John says. “Whatever you want to be more comfortable.” 

I want you to leave. You bite your lip, suddenly not brave enough to say it out loud. 

They are trying. 

“Why are you down here?” You ask instead. 

“Couldn’t sleep so I came to get a snack.” He says. “You want anything?” 

“No.” You say quickly, wrapping the blanket tighter around you. “I’m alright.” 

“You sure?” He presses, standing off to your right. 

You hesitate for a moment, curling your toes under the blanket as one of the logs snaps. It’s not food you need from him. Your appetite has decreased again with this new wave of horrible things plaguing your mind. “I want to know why,” You say, swallowing the lump in your throat. “why you left me there.” 

John shifts behind you, silent for a long moment. 

“I got too caught up in the big picture.” He finally says. “I thought that taking out Shepherd would end everything before it went too far. It’s the only way we’ll ever be safe, and I didn’t consider the lengths he’d go to, the lengths he’d let Graves go to, just to cover his own ass long enough for him to escape. I was wrong in making that decision. You’re not like us. You’ve never been left behind, tortured, had to fight your way out of an impossible situation. You shouldn’t have ever been put in that position. We all failed you. Every last one of us.” 

Tears burn your eyes as you stare into the fire. “You left me.” 

“I know.” He says, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s the worst mistake I’ve ever made.” 

“I can’t do this.” You whisper, your knuckles white where they’re gripping the edges of the blanket. The words are coming out and you can’t stop them. Maybe it’s because deep down you remember the better times, when he was a comfort. Someone you could trust to catch you when you fall. “I keep seeing them, seeing what I did, what happened. I killed people.” 

“People that would have killed you without a second thought.” He says. “You were defending yourself in a situation where that was unavoidable. It’s not your fault. None of it is.” 

“Can we ever move past this?” You ask, your voice quiet and broken.  

“I like to think we can.” John says. “It won’t be easy, but if that’s what you want, we sure as hell will work to make it happen. Things won’t go back to the way they were, and they shouldn’t. You deserve better than what we gave you.” 

You don’t respond because you can’t. His words float around in your mind, replaying over and over. You want to believe him. You desperately want to believe him, but a deep part of you can’t. He’s made promises before and then broke them. How can you trust this time will be different? 

The creak of the stairs wakes you. It’s jarring, pulling you out of a sleep you didn’t know you were in. You’re on the couch in the living room, bundled under a blanket with a decorative pillow under your head. You don’t remember moving to the couch. The fire is nothing more than embers now, but it feels warmer in the house. It’s dawn, the grey light streaming in through the window, chasing away the shadows of night. 

“What are you doing out here?” A gruff voice asks you. 

You groan, rubbing your eyes. “Fell asleep.” 

“On the couch?” 

“Think I was on the floor first.” You yawn, pressing your face back into the pillow. “Don’t remember getting to the couch.” 

“Why?” 

“Got cold.” Your voice is slightly muffled as you pull the blanket up higher. 

Simon lets out a sigh before moving around the couch to the fireplace. He adds a couple logs in before lighting it again, the fire crackling back to life. You’re half asleep already as another blanket is draped over you, tucked up around your neck. There’s a feeling of a hand brushing over your head, but that may have just been your imagination as you drift off back to sleep. 

You don’t get to sleep long, more footsteps coming down the stairs waking you. A hand does brush over your head this time, the scent of the beach filling your nose. You let out a groan, trying to snuggle deeper into the blankets. 

“Sleeping out here this morning?” Kyle’s soft voice reaches your ears. 

You grunt, chasing the quickly fading edges of sleep in your brain. 

“Breakfast is ready, if you want to get up.” 

You are hungry. There’s a quiet rumble of your stomach as you begin to register the smells coming from the kitchen: bacon and eggs and coffee. Johnny is making the coffee most likely. Maybe you’ll have some this morning. You might need it with how groggy you feel. 

You stretch out on the couch, trying to breathe some life into your limbs. It’s not the most comfortable couch, definitely not for sleeping, but it’s better than the floor. It was likely John that moved you. He was the only one that knew you were out here last night. 

You're not sure how that makes you feel. 

It's nice on one hand, that he saved you from the pains of sleeping on the floor. But at the same time it feels like an intrusion. There was a time you wouldn't have thought twice about it. There was a time it would have been normal and expected and you would have thanked him for it. 

Now...now you're not sure. 

You push yourself up to sit, joints cracking from being stuck in one position for so long. You blink slowly as you sit there for a moment. It’s warm in the house, almost too warm now with your body warmed from sleep. Dr. Keller is sitting at the table, a steaming mug in front of her. Tea, most likely. Maybe coffee. You’re not quite sure. She gives you a soft smile as you rub a hand across your face. 

You feel groggy as you push yourself up to stand, letting your stomach and feet guide you towards the smells coming from the kitchen. Kyle guides you to the table with a promise of making you a plate and you take your usual seat at the end of the table facing the kitchen. Dr. Keller is to your left this time, coffee in her mug judging by the smell. 

“How did you sleep?” She asks, her hands wrapped around the mug. 

“Fine. Got cold.” You say, resting your head in your hand.

“John turned the heat up a bit. We can get you more blankets if you need them.” Dr. Keller says. 

You hum, letting your eyes close for a moment. You won’t complain about more blankets, more soft things to lay with. There is one thing you wish you had, though. You’re not quite sure how to ask for it, or that it would even be possible to get. 

You jump when a hand touches your back, not realizing you had even dozed off sitting there. 

“Sorry.” Kyle says, setting a plate on the table in front of you. “Food’s hot. You want coffee or tea.” 

“Coffee.” You say instantly, earning a wide grin from Johnny as he takes his own seat at the table. 

“Even split this morning.” He says cheekily, setting his own mug down. “Three against three.” 

“Tea is still the superior choice.” Kyle says from the kitchen. “Better for you anyway.” 

“Coffee has a lot of health benefits as well.” Dr. Keller says. “So long as you don’t add too much sugar into it.” 

“See.” Johnny says, giving them a victorious grin. 

“She said so long as you don’t put too much sugar in it.” Kyle says, carrying over your mug of coffee. “You’ll get diabetes from how much you add in.” 

“Two spoonfuls isnae too much.” He turns to look at Dr. Keller. “Is it?” 

Dr. Keller gives him a worried look. “You might be pushing it there.” 

Johnny’s grin turns into a pout. “What do ye mean?” 

A ghost of a smile tugs at your lips as you quickly shovel a forkful of eggs into your mouth. As much as the deep pain of betrayal still aches in your chest, as much as you still want to hate them, you have to admit you missed this. It’s the least tense you’ve seen all of them in the last few weeks. Even Dr. Keller’s shoulders don’t seem quite so squared as they have been. 

A part of you feels guilty about it. It is your fault deep down. You’re the one keeping them all on edge, driving that wedge between them over and over again. Deep down you’re the one causing the heavy weight that’s settled over the house. You wish you could just go back to normal, you wish you could just wave a wand and make yourself okay again. You wish you could ease their pain just a little bit. 

The eggs suddenly don’t taste quite so good anymore. 

You force them down regardless in favor of causing another scene, in favor of dragging the mood down. They deserve a little lighthearted moment after everything. They don’t need to know the inner turmoil plaguing your mind. 

Simon shifts next to you, his eyes darting to glance at your face. You can feel them, the intensity of his gaze just as sharp as it had been back in the beginning, back before he looked at you with fondness. He’s stiff as he sits there, almost as if he can sense the storm raging inside of you as you force yourself to pretend that you’re fine in favor of keeping the bright mood that’s settled over the table. 

Maybe he can sense it. He is an alpha after all. It’s his job to know, to understand. You glance across the table at John, his eyes on his phone as he sips his tea. 

Your gaze drops down to your plate as you pick up a piece of bacon, your heart shattering just a little bit more. 

“‘S too early.” You whine as hands pull the blanket off of you. Cold air nips at your skin, making you curl up in a ball. 

“It’s noon. Come on.” A hand closes around your arm, gently shaking you. “You want to get up.” 

You let out a whine, pinching your face up. “No.” 

“Trust me. It’ll be worth it.” Kyle says, brushing the hair back from your face. 

“Why.” You say, letting out a huff. 

“We’re going on a little trip.” Kyle pulls you up, forcing you into a seated position. “Dress warm.” 

You’re alone in the room again, the door left open. Light streams in, making you squint against the harsh intrusion. A quick glance at the clock reveals it is, in fact, a little past noon. You took a nap to make up for a night of tumultuous sleep, one of the few things you have to do here in this prison. Nap and read. It’s a lot like your life before the cottage, before everything that happened, except now you’re stuck with your pack around you at all times. 

You almost miss the times they were away. 

You maneuver yourself so your legs dangle over the edge of the bed as you try to blink the drowsiness away. The nap hadn’t been nearly long enough, but judging by Kyle’s eagerness, they let you sleep a bit longer than they wanted. 

You let out a sigh before pushing yourself off the bed, moving to the dresser. You pull out warm clothes, quickly changing. You have no idea what they have planned, what’s going on. There was no frantic rush, Kyle’s energy more excited than anything. It makes you a bit worried as you step out of the room into the living area. 

They’re all waiting by the door, watching you as you approach them, rubbing your eyes. 

“Come on,” John says, setting a pair of shoes on the floor. “Boots on.” 

“What are we doing?” You ask, moving forward automatically. 

“We’re taking a little trip.” Kyle answers. 

You look at him cautiously as you step into the boots, pulling them on. You haven’t been away from the cottage since you arrived two weeks ago. You’ve barely been let outside, weather permitting. It’s an overcast day today, the world grey outside, but grey is better than rain. 

“Ready?” John asks as you stare at him. 

“I guess.” You say, still a bit hesitant. 

They make no effort to ease your discomfort and nerves. 

You’re led out the door and towards the cars by Dr. Keller. Her face is brighter than it has been lately which doesn’t help your nervous energy. She’s excited too, just like the rest of them. You’re not sure why you’re so nervous. Maybe it’s the anxiety of leaving after being trapped inside for so long. You just want to know where you’re going, what it is you’re going to be doing. 

Dr. Keller ushers you into the back seat of one of the cars, getting in the other side. Kyle and John climb into the front while Johnny and Simon get into the other car. 

You watch the green pass by as they drive, taking in the new landscape. You don’t remember arriving at the cottage. You don’t remember most of the trip at all. It’s all a blur in your memory, much like the events that transpired after your omega took over had been. You wish you could remember the trip over those events. You’d take green rolling hills over your own hands taking lives. 

It had been jarring waking in the cottage for the first time. A new place, a lack of memories getting there. You’re beginning to get tired of the pattern. You half expect to fall asleep and wake up somewhere new again most nights. You wouldn’t know any better. A slip of a pill into some food and you’d wake up somewhere halfway across the world. 

You like to think they’d at least warn you beforehand. 

John pulls the car into a parking lot, parking near a line of trees. Johnny pulls into the parking lot behind John, parking near the entrance. It’s on purpose, you know that much. Everything is about safety and making things look as inconspicuous as possible. Anyone could be a rat. Anyone could be watching. 

It’s windier here as you step out of the car, even though you haven't gone far from the cottage. Walking distance, if you were up for a hike. You’re not. 

“Come on, kitten.” Johnny says, guiding you through the parking lot and towards a path. 

You still don’t know what’s happening as you follow them, Johnny holding your hand as you step onto the rocky path. He leads the way, the others following. John is behind you, hovering in case you slip in the gravel. You do your best not to, despite how quickly Johnny is leading you. He’s more eager than Kyle had been, and you’re sure he’d be running if you could keep up. 

You begin to figure out what’s happening as the sound of waves crashing on the shore gets louder and louder. Your chest starts to constrict with emotion as the trees start to get sparser and sparser, a cliff edge visible over Johnny’s shoulder. You want to run now, you want to break ahead and race your way to the edge of the cliff. Johnny, even in his excited state, would catch you before you could take off and potentially hurt yourself. 

You might hurt yourself just trying to run. 

You hate it. 

The land opens before you as you reach the edge of the cliff. The expanse of the sea seems daunting so close, grey and choppy from the wind. Salty air blasts you in the face, rustling your jacket as you stand there above a small beach. It’s empty, but that’s expected for the middle of fall. All the tourists have gone home, those with vacation homes back in better weather for the winter. 

You’re glad you’re alone. You wouldn’t want anyone else ruining this moment. 

Kyle’s fingers wrap around yours as you stand there, staring down at the beach below. “Come on.” 

The gravel turns to dirt as it winds down the side of the cliff, getting steeper as you near the beach. You do nearly slip as you follow Johnny down to the sand, your boots quickly getting muddy. You’re glad for them, understanding why John chose boots over more comfortable shoes. 

You pause as your feet sink into sand. You stare out at the water, at the white crests of waves crashing onto the shore. It’s real. It’s not just some mirage, some painting in the background of your life. It’s really here. You’re really here. 

No one says anything as you take a few steps forward before squatting down. You scoop up a handful of sand, letting it slip through your fingers. It’s coarse against your cold skin, thicker and rockier than the sand you’re used to, but it’s still sand. It’s still a beach. 

You’re at the beach. 

You scoop up another handful of sand, letting it run through your fingers again. You want to put some of it in a jar and set it on the nightstand at the cottage. You want to stare at it and remind yourself you’re really at the coast, you’re really just a short drive away from the sea. You want the sand to sink into your skin and flow through your veins and fill every crack that’s formed in your mind.  

You’re really here. 

You stand up straight, staring out at the water again. Your pack is still behind you, silently watching you. You shuffle forward a couple steps, waiting for one of them to stop you, to grab you and keep you from getting closer, but none of them move. You widen your steps, treading through the soft sand until you reach the edge of the wetter sand where the water was earlier. It’s easier to walk on as you continue to approach the water, the sound of your pack treading through the soft sand disappearing behind you as you get closer and closer to the water. The waves flow up the beach, your feet getting closer and closer to where that water stops. 

You half expect them to stop you as you step forward, letting the waves hit your feet. The salty water washes away the mud and sand clinging to your rubber boots, rushing up over the tops of your feet. You stare down at the water, watching it surge upward and around your ankles. You’d keep walking if you were brave enough, let it get higher and higher until it soaked your clothes, but you know they’d stop you. It’s far too cold to risk getting wet. You can feel the chill of the water through your boots as it flows over your feet. 

You’re not sure how long you stand there, watching the water rush back and forth, feeling the pressure of it against your boots as you stand in the waves. You’re really here. You’re really standing in the sea. 

You finally turn after what seems like an eternity, making your way back up to the softer sand. All of them are standing in a line, watching you. You wonder what’s going through their heads, what they feel standing here. Relief? Happiness? Guilt? Shame? The wind whips at your back, coming right off the water, blowing their scents away from you. What you wouldn’t give to be able to smell them right now. 

Tears burn your eyes as you make your way up towards John, trudging through the sand. His cheeks and nose are pink from the cold wind, his beard longer than you’ve ever seen it. You don’t remember the last time you’ve really looked at him up close. His gaze is uncertain as he stares down at you, trying to gauge your next move. He can’t. You know he can’t and it makes you feel powerful. 

It shouldn’t, but it does. 

“Thank you.” You say finally, a tear sliding down your cheek. “Thank you.” 

You can hear them. They don’t know it, but you can. They think they’re speaking quietly, but in the silence of the morning, you can hear almost every word. Dr. Keller’s protests, John's quiet insistence. 

Leaving. 

That’s the word that caught your attention. Leaving. Someone is leaving. Someone is separating themselves from the pack again, and not just for a trip to town to go to the store. This meaning is different, it hangs differently in the air. 

“I don’t think this is a good idea right now.” Dr. Keller says, her voice just barely audible through the open sliding glass door. It’s open just a crack, just enough to hear what’s transpiring inside. 

“We won’t have another chance.” John says, his voice insistent. “We have to do this. She deserves it.” 

She. You. Whatever it is, it involves you. It always does. You can’t remember a time over the last few weeks when it hasn’t been about you. It’s always about you and you hate it. You almost wish things would go back to the way they were before, when you were a second thought, the one left behind.

You’re going to be left behind again. 

“John-” 

“I know.” John’s voice is louder again. “We have to do what’s best for our pack, and right now this is it.” 

The sliding door opens, the conversation over. Your stomach is churning, nausea eating its way up your esophagus as John crosses the deck towards where you’re seated. His steps are slow and quiet, almost like he’s approaching a wild animal. He might be, depending on how this conversation is going to go. 

How are you going to react? You expected it eventually. They’ll always leave, they’ll always put you last and think about themselves first. Are you upset? Are you angry? Is it a relief? 

You wish you could feel something right now. Instead you feel numb. Another promise broken, another lie told. 

“You’re leaving again.” You say, staring out at the horizon as John takes a seat next to you. You need to get it out first, say what you know before he can say it and break your heart again. 

He lets out a quiet sigh, leaning back in the chair. “We are, but you’re coming with us.” 

You turn to glance at him, taken aback by his words. You’re leaving too? You hadn’t considered this. The cottage is your prison. You are Rapunzel trapped by the Mother Gothel that is your pack, stuck in the tower for the rest of time. 

Leaving? 

“There’s something we need to take care of back in the states.” John explains. “You’re coming with us.” 

Back in the states? What could possibly be there that is left for you, for your pack? 

You don’t like the sound of that. You don’t like the sound of that one bit. 

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[urhoneycombwitch]

common tongue of you lovin' me

🍯 honey flavour: touchstarved loverboy smut

🐝 the bees: Eddie x reader

wc: 2.5k 

content warnings: nervous Eddie, touchstarved R, smut, dry humping (is it actually dry if they’re both wet…?), cumming in pants, one (1) use of the word “daddy”, light use of the miscommunication trope

foreword: based on THIS anon everyone say THANKS anon. R and Eddie are in their early 20’s, R is on a gap year from college (so me), they’re in a new relationship with each other, I’m writing this while blasted on edibles idk what else to say 0_o

____

By nature, Eddie Munson is not a shy person.

Even though his dark reputation in Hawkins hasn’t been completely erased, he still manages to make friends wherever he goes through sheer force of personality. It’s like a magic trick, one that you never get tired of- he’ll pause in the middle of grocery stores to make faces at a baby in a stroller, getting belly laughs out of a stranger’s kid in less than ten seconds while still holding your hand down the aisle. One second he’s right behind you in the record store, looking over your shoulder as you browsed, and the next he’ll be on one knee charming a elementary school-aged kid into getting the latest Dio album.

You’ve seen him flirt his way out of speeding tickets with Hopper, for christ’s sake. 

Eddie isn’t shy by any stretch of the imagination, so after three months of nothing but chaste kisses and quiet hand-holding, you’re left to assume he actually wants to take things slow with you.

He’s been nothing but a gentleman, in these early days of dating- the most action you’ve gotten from him was unintentional. On your third date, a dollop of his ice cream landed on your lap when he used the cone to gesture, which led him to manically grabbing napkins out of his dashboard to wipe at your skirt while you laughed it off. The second he’d brushed against your bare thigh he snapped his hands back like he’d touched a live wire, hastily heaping on apologies, leaving you to allay his nerves while wiping at the stain yourself.  

Which, whatever. It’s fine. It’s not like you’re complaining about him being respectful, per se, it’s just that it’s getting harder and harder (hah) to pretend like you don’t wanna fuck him. The feeling between your thighs only seems to increase in intensity when he gives you one of those precious little hand kisses at the end of a date, or a closed-mouth peck before he drives off into the night. 

Unfortunately for you and your wet dreams, Eddie Munson has the most edible body you’ve ever seen. Biceps bulging through those form-fitting tees he likes to wear, rounded nose and strong jaw outlined by that cloud of soft black hair, those lithe hips…

Hips that you’re openly staring at from across the room as you sit quietly on Eddie’s couch. He’s reaching up to grab a mug from the cabinet, his Metallica tee pulling up out of his dark denim at the motion, flashing a stripe of his pale lower back.  

You feel like a Victorian maid seeing ankle for the first time. You subtly press your thighs together under your short tartan skirt as Eddie moves around the kitchen, talking animatedly about the start of his upcoming campaign.

“I haven’t decided yet if I’m gonna go easy on the little shits or not,” he says, metal spoon clinking against ceramic as he mixes hot chocolate powder. “It’s Max’s first session as an official player, and I don’t wanna scare her off but I do have a reputation to uphold.”

“Yeah,” you agree, giving him a knowing smile as he crosses the room to pass you your mug- “You’re a DM most fearsome. Can’t let them off the hook too easily.”

Eddie blooms under your praise, wiggling his eyebrows with familiar cockiness as he settles on the cushion beside you. “Gotta keep Hawkins' finest in line. It’s a tough gig but I did swear an oath, after all.”

You smile around a sip of hot cocoa, then reach over to set your mug on the coffee table. Eddie has been sat in his usual manner (knees far enough apart to be taking up his whole seat, arm draped casually on the back of the couch) but the second your knee knocks against his, he adjusts himself stiffly, drawing his arm back with a nervous throat-clearing and a murmured “sorry”.

Normally you’d let it go, not wanting to push the issue past the point of his comfortability. But it’s been Three. Months. Of this. And you wanna test the waters, just a little.

“Sorry for what?” You ask, rotating to face him, your shoulders almost-but-not-quite touching.

He’d doing an uncanny impression of a deer caught in headlights, blinking at you with those doey brown eyes, stuttering his way through a weak explanation- “Uh… uh. Sorry for being- f-for touching you?”

There’s a lift at the end of his sentence, one that you mirror with a tilt of your own brow, a playful challenge. “You don’t have to apologize for touching me, Eddie. I’m your girlfriend.”

He chuckles, a nervous edge bleeding around the sound. The curls around his face dance with the head shake he gives. “No, of course, yeah, I know that.”

“Do you?” You scoot closer, a kick of assertiveness giving you the courage to press your leg against his. 

“Uh huh.” He’s gazing openly now at the bare skin of your thigh, like he’s waiting to see if it'll burn a hole into his denim. 

When you gently lift his hand and place it on the skin that he’s looking at, you hear him gulp, audibly. 

So he does want to touch you. Interesting.  

You know for a fact Eddie’s not a virgin. Back in high school, you’d both dated around your respective circles, gossip surrounding escapades in the Munson Van circulating back to you through mutual friends. When he’d asked you out a few months previous, you’d happily accepted, wanting to take full advantage of your interim gap year from college. For the first few weeks, you’d chalked his near-celibate behavior up to nerves.

But now, you’ve got him squirming with just a thigh touch. So maybe… he’s waiting for you to make the first move?

Fuck testing the waters- you’re gonna dive in head-first. 

You swing your leg over his lap, kneeling on the outside of his hips. His hands automatically go to your waist, and he lets out a little “Oh” as you rest your arms around his shoulders.

“You gonna kiss your girlfriend?” you whisper, forehead crushing into his bangs as you wrap a hand around the back of his neck.

Eddie looks up at you like he’s seeing a full moon for the first time, eyes sparkling with want. “Yeah,” he rasps, angling his face up to kiss you.

It’s soft, at first, like it always has been. His plush lips softly move against yours, breaking for air once, twice; when he kisses you with that same softness for a third time you press your tongue to the seam between his lips.

He lets you in with a little noise, low in the back of his throat as you lick into his mouth. His hands twitch on your hips as your tongues twine, slight movements in his own hips creating a ripple effect.

When the hard seam of his jeans bumps against the warmth of your cunt, you both gasp, your hand at the back of his neck tightening. 

“We should probably, um-” he’s panting against your mouth, grip flexing between hard and soft- “I mean, if you wanna stop…”

“I don’t wanna stop. Do you wanna stop?” you ask, equally out of breath.

“Fuck no,” he rasps again, in that smoke-salt voice, and this time when he kisses you it’s with one hand at the back of your head and the other pulling your hips to meet his.

The noises from the wet slide of your mouths are turning you on more than you care to admit, and you’re sure he can feel the damp patch that’s soaking through your panties as the crotch of his jeans make contact again. Which normally would make you feel really self-conscious, if it weren’t for the fact that Eddie’s hard as a rock underneath you, the bulge in his pants thickening with each roll of your hips.

You drop your kisses down, exploring where you haven’t been able to before: against his cheek, his jaw, stopping just behind his ear. Unable to help yourself, you graze your teeth against the velvet skin there, and he jolts beneath you with a small yelp.

“Sorry,” you whisper, still a touch mirthful but soothing your tongue over the mark.

Eddie brushes his thumb across the back of your neck as you continue your path down the column of his throat. “Now who’s sayin’ sorry for no reason. Baby, I’m begging you to do that again.”

So you do, this time at the junction where his neck and shoulder meet, grinning against his skin when he groans and bucks his hips up. 

Around your hickey-making, he’s choking out words that you just manage to string together. “I wanna… make you feel- christ, sweetheart- good too, wanna make it good for you-”

When you sit up to see his face, he looks absolutely wrecked- rosy flush in his cheeks, lips swollen and kiss-bitten, pupils blown so big his eyes are nearly black with lust.

“You are making me feel good,” you assure him, pulling the hand he’s got on your neck down to where the end of your skirt sits, pausing before your next move. “You want me to prove it?”

He nods, and you guide him into the warmth of your thighs, letting his fingers graze the stickiness that’s been steadily soaking through the fabric.

Eddie inhales sharply, moans out, “Fuck, honey”, and when his thumb finds your clit you sink down into his touch, stomach tightening with the shock of arousal coursing through you.

He’s watching your face intently as he slowly circles your clit, gauging your reactions, pressing in a bit harder and faster when the pace change makes you cry out.

Feeling doubly exposed with his eye contact and hand against your core, you try making a joke to diffuse some of the tension as the pad of his finger moves against you in steady rhythm. “Still thinkin’ about stopping?”

“A train could crash through that wall and it wouldn’t stop me for a second,” Eddie says, resolute and getting a little braver, kissing his own path across your throat, nibbling at a spot that makes your clit pulse beneath his fingertip and your cunt clench around nothing. 

Goddamn, he’s a quick learner. In less than two minutes he’s got you so close to the edge, squirming around his touch, that you have to grab his wrist and still his fingers between your thighs.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. You can feel his breath punching up down up, your breasts pushed up against his chest from the way your body was trying to coil in on itself.

“Nothing,” you assure him, and now it’s your turn to falter around your words. “I just- maybe can I… I wanna get o-off at the same time. If you want. And I’m really, really close.”

Eddie’s head falls back against the couch with a thunk, eyes scrunching shut as if in concentration, a strung-out whine leaving his throat. “Hang on. Give me a second.”

He’s still got his hand on your clothed pussy, and you can’t help but giggle once he blinks back to the present, dazed- “Christ. You can’t say shit like that, baby, I almost came in my jeans.”

You give him a condescending little pout, accented with another twist of your hips. “Well maybe that’s what I want.”

“Give you anything,” Eddie replies, unabashedly babbling now as you adjust yourself in his lap. “Anything you want, sweetheart. It’s yours. All yours.”

He helps you maneuver into a new angle: now, your drenched core can rub freely against his thigh, while your knee in the socket of his hip means he can rut his cock along the flat of your leg.

When you move experimentally in shallow circles on his thigh, the newly-gained friction lights up your throbbing clit. Soon, all pretenses melt away as you both find your rhythm again, little grunts and pants filling the air.

“Feel good, angel? That’s it,” Eddie encourages, slipping his hand under your skirt to grope at the meat of your ass, helping your movements along as he chases his own pleasure with a rocking grind against your leg. “Take what you need. Lemme get you there. Please, please…”

His whines spur you on, one of your hands shooting out to clutch at the back of the couch beside his head while the other anchors itself on his opposing bicep. “Fuck, Eddie, keep talking like that, ‘m so close…”

“Talk to you all day,” he heaves out, “you make me so fucking hard, princess. You feel how hard I am for you? God, you’re so wet, that’s so fucking hot…”

You should have expected that bravado and charm you’ve seen these last few years to naturally be carried over into his sex life, but god, not in your wettest of dreams could you have imagined the mouth on him. 

The combination of his dirty talk and thigh between your legs is bringing you right up to that edge again, toes curling in anticipation, cunt starting to flutter erratically with every thrust.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come…” your head rolls back on its hinge, eyes flickering shut as Eddie fumbles to catch at your clit again, movements becoming sloppy. 

“C’mon, pretty baby, let go.” He’s sucking another mark into your neck between his praises, teeth catching- “Let me see you come, honey, be a good girl for daddy…”

“Jesus FUCKING christ” is all you manage to grit out before you’re tipping over the edge into orgasm, all your muscles bearing down into the bright point of pleasure, high sob winding its way from your throat. 

Eddie keeps kneading at your spasming clit as you ride it out on his thigh, even as he lets out a series of short, keening whimpers, even as his cock jerks against your leg into his own release. 

You sag into his waiting arms, tittering lightly against his neck as you both work on catching your collective breaths. 

“Holy shit, and I was really starting to think you actually didn’t want to fuck me.” You laugh in relief.

His hand pauses mid-stroke up the slope of your back, sounding genuinely aghast when he asks “Why the fuck would you think that?”

You straighten in his arms with an incredulous stare. “Uh, maybe because you acted like a monk that I was corrupting every time I even breathed near you?”

Eddie covers his eyes with his hands, heels to sockets, groaning- “Fuck, honey, I was tryn’a be respectful. You’re telling me we could’ve been doing this sooner?”

You reach to soothe your palms over the length of his forearms, equally fond and serious when you say “I’m telling you I absolutely would have slept with you on the first date.”

He makes a strangled, pained noise before you continue- “You described to me in detail the entire mating cycle of a bat, and then walked directly into a trash can by accident. How did you expect me to wait on jumping your bones?”

He lets you take his hands, enveloping them in your own and bringing them to your chest, pressing your lips affectionately to each ring.

He whispers, “Can I ask you something?” 

When you look up at him again, he says, with sincerity, “Can I see your tits next time?”

You hide your laughter into the crook of his neck. 

________

guys i cannot stress how high I am is this even any good plz perceive me