#i’m normal about him i swear i’m normal i’m normal

[sceletaflores]

come on and show me a little bit of spine!

pair: logan howlett x mutant!fem!reader

wc: 5.5k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, drinking, smoking, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex, public sex (alleyway hehe), biting, blood but not blood play, pain kink, scent kink, a special guest (!!!), jealous logan muahahaha, emotional constipation but like wtf is new, nat probably blatantly ignoring canon, probably ooc logan and friends sorry i'm just a girl, porn w/ plot (a little???), no use of y/n.

author’s note: HAHA BACK ON MY LOGAN BULLSHIT! who’s laughing? not me. i can’t stop writing for him it’s insane and selfish i know i know i’m sorry. bee tee dubs this is part two to all’s fair in love and viscera cus i couldn't get them out of my head so...kisses!

five x-men walk into a bar, only three walk out…

All men are the same. X-gene or no x-gene, they're all immature pigs.

You've come to find that it's more than just skin deep. If you took a knife to every man in this bar, you'd surely find the exact same little metaphorical mass of arrogance ingrained in every single one of them once all the layers are peeled back far enough.

And that's what Logan is, a man.

A stubborn, arrogant, mind-numbingly frustrating man who's convinced he could never be wrong just because he's had a little more time than normal to perfect the art of being completely insufferable.

No adamantium skeleton or foot long claws of death can change that.

You could set him on fire, drown him, watch him regenerate from a single cell, and nothing would change.

So, in hindsight, you really should have seen this coming.

It was Ororo's idea to go out, insisting the team needed it. A casual night at the bar across town to raise bravado after a few close call missions.

It sounded fun at the time, and for the first thirty minutes it was.

Getting to shed your hero skin for a few hours every so often is always nice, and you love your team. Love getting to just sit and live with them. You hardly get nights like this anymore, filled with playing pool and darts like people do.

That being said, you were reaching the top of your limit. Fast.

It started at the bartop, with Logan sauntering up next to you for the first time tonight. 

He slid into the empty seat to your left, leaned against the bar casually, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. His lips tugged into that half-smirk he wore that night in the training room.

“You avoiding me?” he asks, voice low, bent down just enough to speak directly into your ear. "Haven't seen you all night."

You almost scoffed, almost turned to face him so he could see the look of irate disbelief on your face. Almost, but you didn't want to give him the extra attention.

"I could ask you the same thing."

You didn't miss how things had changed between the two of you after your night in the training room. Something shifted, and not in the romantic 'so...what are we now?' territory.

It shifted into Logan disappearing, closing himself off. He didn't go out of his way to avoid you, didn't even go as far as ignoring your existence entirely. He didn't need to, you knew it was different.

He refused to talk about it, refused to even acknowledge it, completely shutting you down the one time you tried bringing it up.

It stung. The feeling of rejection, especially after that night. You felt like you bared a part of your soul to Logan on that dark blue training mat. You swore you saw something different in his eyes too, a subtle shift, something that said this ran deeper than just a messy fuck between friends.

It played on your mind like a loop, every detail. You nitpicked almost every single thing you did, searched your mind for what you could have done that scared him off.

It has to be you, it always is.

It took a week to get over it. A week to wash away the feeling of Logan's hands on your body, of his lips on yours, of his cock carving a space for itself in your cunt, of his blood sliding down your throat and slicking the palms of your hands.

Eventually, that sadness gave way to self-reflection. Self-reflection gave way to anger, and now you're just plain pissed.

This has nothing to do with you.

Logan is a grown man, not a goddamn baby. He should know how to communicate by now, should take the stick out of his ass and drop the whole 'I'm no good for you baby' martyr cross he's carried around for over a century and talk to you.

But if he wants to be alone to sulk in self pity and sorrow for two hundred more years, you'll let him.

Logan's smirk falters, his expression falling with a heavy sigh. He leans back, one boot moving to rest on the rung of your stool. "You really want to do this here?"

"You came up to me," you shrug, finally turning to face him. The warm glow of the bar lights catch the edges of your frustration. "If you’re here to talk, then talk."

Logan doesn't respond, just meets your gaze with a raised brow. His eyes scan over your face slowly, taking in the pinch between your brows and the stern look in your eyes.

"Trouble in paradise?"

Scott's voice pierces through the tense air between you. His tone is casual in a way that's undermined by the smug smile turning the corner of his mouth up. It's too knowing, like he'd been listening in before.

Logan's brows pinch together in irritation the same way they always do when Scott talks, but he holds your gaze. His silence is infuriating because it's the same old routine—he just stares, brooding, like he’s waiting for the problem to magically solve itself without ever opening his damn mouth.

It makes your blood simmer just under the surface, the tips of your fingers burning with it.

You grind your teeth, balling your hands into fists where they sit on the bar. "Scott," you say, not breaking eye contact with Logan, "go play fetch or something."

Scott raises his hands in mock surrender, but you know he won’t leave without a parting shot. “Just looking out for you, you know. Can’t afford you two tearing each other apart over a little lovers spat before the night’s even over.”

As he saunters off, you turn your full attention back to Logan, who’s still studying you with that infuriating intensity. It’s as if he’s trying to decode some secret language written across your face.

You almost want to laugh at how predictable he is, how he thinks he can just sit there, unbothered, while you’re ready to explode.

“Are you really just going to sit there?” you challenge, leaning closer, daring him to respond. “You can’t keep dodging this forever, Logan. You think I’m the only one feeling this? We were both there that night."

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, you think you see the flicker of vulnerability beneath the gruff exterior. But then it’s gone, replaced by that stubborn wall he always puts up.

“I don’t need to talk about it,” he mutters, his voice low, but there’s an edge of desperation that catches your attention. “What’s done is done.”

“‘What’s done is done’?” You can’t help the incredulous laugh that escapes you. “Is that your new catch phrase? They gonna start printing that on the front of your action figure's box?"

Logan's brows furrow deeper, his mouth turning down in a hard frown. "Watch it," he warns tersely, the edge of a snarl on his lips.

You lean forward, desperate to get anything out of him. "Or what?"

The bar buzzes around you, laughter and music blending into a distant hum, but all you can focus on is him—the way his eyes flare with that familiar spark of rebellion, how handsome he looks under the bar's dim lights, the way his smell is starting to warm your insides despite how mad you are.

You raise your brow, waiting, hoping. He stays silent.

That's it.

You stand abruptly, causing your stool to scrape against the floor loudly. Logan straightens, eyes narrowing as he watches you, but you’re more than done with all of this. You've had enough.

"I'm going for some air." you say evenly, slipping your jacket off the back of your chair. "Don't follow me."

You turn and walk away before Logan can answer, heading in the direction of the bar's alley door.

You try your best to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach, the first tendrils of dread wrapping themselves around you tighter with every step. Your eyes burn embarrassingly each time you blink, but you refuse to cry.

You’re emotionally spiraling a couple feet from the door when someone suddenly steps in front of you, and you crash into them.

“So sorry, ma’am,” A familiar voice says from somewhere in front of you as two strong hands grip your waist to steady you. “Completely my fault, I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

You crane your head up, eyes dragging from the blue gingham button down stretched over impressive muscle until they land on a pair of blue eyes and blonde head of hair you recognize.

“Steve?” 

Steve Rogers smiles down at you, his hands still lightly resting on your waist. His expression is soft, apologetic, and a little surprised. Your name falls from his lips in a warm greeting, his hands lingering for a second longer before he drops them and takes a small step back.

“I’m surprised you still remember me. It’s been a while,” he says with the same boyish charm you remember, like he hadn’t just watched you nearly barge through the door like it owed you money. “How’ve you been?”

You blink up at Steve, the frustration from your situation with Logan still fresh, swirling through your system like a storm.

How’ve you been?

What a loaded question.

“Better,” you answer with a tight smile, barely convincing yourself. “Just tired. We’ve been so busy recently, you know how it is.”

Steve gives you a searching look, his eyes skimming your face with the kind of care that makes you want to shrink into yourself. His brow furrows slightly, concern flickering in those crystal-clear eyes of his as he studies your face. 

"Are you okay?" he asks, genuinely, like he’s already picked up on the fact that something’s off. 

How could you forget, he’s got the emotional radar of a saint. Lucky you.

"Yeah, sure," you lie, adjusting your jacket and pointedly avoiding the obvious upset that’s probably plastered across your face. You force a smile, hoping he buys it. "Just needed some air. This place is packed."

The furrow of Steve’s brows deepen, his lips pressing into a thin line like he doesn’t believe you. You feel worse under the intense pressure of his knowing stare, like a bug trapped under a magnifying glass.

You’re about to say something—anything—to fill the awkward silence, but then you feel it. That heavy, unmistakable presence at your back.

Of course he didn’t listen.

Steve’s eyes flick over your shoulder, and you don’t even have to turn around to know Logan’s right there, brooding like a dark cloud about to burst. You can practically feel the tension rolling off him in waves as one strong arm slides underneath the thick denim of your jacket and around your waist.

“Cap,” Logan’s clipped voice greets from somewhere behind you, laced with barely concealed irritation as his fingers dig into the cotton of your shirt, staking some sort of unspoken claim.

Steve gives Logan a respectful nod, though his expression remains calm, measured, the same quiet authority he always carries. “Logan,” he greets, smile faltering for the second it takes him to drop his eyes to Logan’s arm. “Nice to see you doing well.”

Logan hums noncommittally, you feel the rumble of it against your back. “Didn’t think this was your scene,” he says to Steve, brow cocked in suspicion.

Steve shakes his head, a small laugh falling from his lips. “It’s not, usually. I got strong armed into joining a few friends.”

“Right,” Logan replies, tone flat like Steve would have a reason to lie.

You can almost see the tension thickening in the air, an electric pulse that shoots straight through you. Logan’s grip tightens subtly, an instinctive reaction to Steve’s presence, but you can feel the subtle heat rising, the way your heart races under his touch despite yourself.

It’s infuriating, and for a second, you’re tempted to dive right into it, to unearth the chaos lurking beneath that chiseled exterior. But then you remember where you are, why you walked away from Logan in the first place—how public it is, how many eyes are on you.

“Steve and I worked together, a base infiltration in Albany a few years ago.” You cut in, shooting Logan a look over your shoulder, like a sharp glare alone could get him to calm down, if only for a second. But he just meets your gaze with that familiar stubbornness, eyes dark and unyielding. 

It’s infuriating, and for a moment, you’re tempted to dive right into it, to unearth the chaos lurking beneath that chiseled exterior. But then you remember where you are—how public it is, how many eyes are on you.

“Feels like a lifetime ago,” Steve says, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

And it does. 

You think of Kevlar squeezed around your ribs, of explosions and buildings falling and the smell of gunpowder.

"Yeah, it does," you reply, ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach and forcing a smile.

“God, you look…” His gaze rakes over you like he can’t help it, the bright blue of his eyes trailing from your face down your legs and back up all over again. You can feel Logan bristle next to you. 

”You look amazing,” Steve finishes with a small shake of his head, million dollar smile still pulling up the corners of his mouth. “Buy you a drink?”

“We were just leavin’, Cap,” Logan cuts in tersely, his arm tightening around your waist even more. His grip is possessive, but it’s not affectionate—it’s an unsaid challenge, a warning. “Calling it an early night.”

You whip your head around, confusion evident on your face. "We?" you parrot back, the word hanging in the air like a challenge of its own. “We haven’t decided anything.”

Logan’s jaw tightens, that familiar stubbornness rearing its head again. His hand splays flat over the span of your lower back, pushing just enough for you to feel the power behind it but not enough to really move you. “Let’s go.”

You look at Steve, then Logan, then the crowded bar, then the door to the alley, and repeat. 

It should be an easy answer, an easy way out of going in circles with Logan even more than you already have.

But you find yourself stuck, feet rooted to the floor as your mind races with a hundred different thoughts in the span of a second.

Your lips part, and you’re not even sure what you’re going to say, when Steve beats you to the punch. 

"She can decide for herself," he says evenly, though there's a subtle shift in his tone. It’s calm, but there’s a steely edge to it, like a well-honed blade concealed beneath all the politeness. He’s still smiling, but it’s less soft now, more hardened around the edges.

Logan’s grip on your waist tightens, his fingers digging in like he's daring Steve to push the envelope any further. “Yeah? Don’t think she needs you speakin’ for her, either.”

"Enough," you snap, stepping out of Logan’s hold with a sharp turn, your voice cutting through the growing storm between them. You turn to him with a hard look, brows pinched in anger. "Fine, let's go."

Your smile feels strained, the edges sharp and jagged as you face Steve, the weight of Logan’s presence at your back heavy and suffocating. “It was great seeing you, Steve. Really.”

Your voice sounds strained even to your own ears.

“We’ll have to catch up some other time,” you add, though the words taste bittersweet on your tongue. 

You can tell he wants to say something, his smile completely dropping as his eyes flit between you and Logan a few times. You give him a pleading look, a reassuring nod that you’ve got this. 

Steve hesitates, you can see the gears turning in his mind, weighing the situation and trying to gauge the tension in the air. But ultimately, he nods, offering you one last smile that’s laced with concern.

“Absolutely,” he says, his voice warm despite the tension hanging in the air. “I’d love to. Just let me know when.”

With one last nod to Logan, he turns and walks away to meld into the crowd until you can’t make out the blue of his shirt anymore.

You don’t turn to Logan as you finally walk out the door. The clunk of his boots follow you the whole way out.

As soon as you’re outside, all the anger sets in at once, burning hot in your stomach as you spin around to face him. The fresh air hits your face like a slap, cool and bracing, but it does nothing to quell the fire simmering inside you.

"You really can't leave well enough alone, can you?" You snap, folding your arms defensively. “You just had to go and stake your territory?”

Logan’s face hardens, his eyes dark under the dim streetlight. “What do you expect me to do? Let you walk away and get buttered up Rogers while I sit at the bar with my dick in my hand?”

“Steve wasn’t doing anything!” You exclaim, frustration seeping into your every word. “He was just being nice, we’re friends.”

Logan lets out a disbelieving snort, shaking his head hard enough that his hair sways with it. “Nothin’ about that was friendly, kid. You’d have to be fuckin’ blind to not see that.”

You huff, turning your eyes to the sky in exasperation. “Why do you care?” you fire back, heart racing at the challenge. “We’re not together! You’ve made that more than clear!”

Now that the seal is broken, it’s like you can’t stop. Words fall out of your mouth faster than your mind can keep up, all the pent up frustration you’ve felt over the past few weeks boiling over.

“You’re the one that’s acting like nothing happened!” You throw your hands up in exasperation, your voice rising with every word. “You’re the one who disappeared, who’s been avoiding this whole thing like it didn’t mean anything!”

He growls, stepping closer, his presence looming. "You think I don’t know that, kid? You think I haven’t been dealing with this shit—with us?"

"Well, you sure as hell don’t act like it! You don’t talk about it. You don’t even try! You just stand there and expect me to what? Read your mind?”

For a split second, Logan’s expression falters, his shoulders stiffening as if your words struck a nerve. But just as quickly, the mask falls back into place. "I’m no good for you, kid. And you know it. I’m doing you a favor."

"There it is again!" You bark out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. "The martyr complex. You’ve been alive for over a century, Logan. You’ve got time on your side, and you still can’t figure out how to be a decent human being in a relationship?”

He flinches slightly, but his eyes remain locked on yours, anger and frustration swirling behind them. "It’s not that simple."

“Of course it is!" You step forward, closing the gap between you. "You just don’t want to do the hard work. You don’t want to open up, to be vulnerable, because then you’d actually have to face yourself. And God forbid Wolverine confronts something he can’t claw his way out of.”

Logan’s jaw clenches, his eyes blazing, and for a long beat, the two of you stand in a tense, electrified silence. The world around you seems to fall away—no bar, no missions, no X-Men—just the two of you, standing in the alley, raw and exposed.

You don’t know who moves first, you or Logan, before you can register it, the distance between you disappears, swallowed by the pull of all that unresolved tension.

His lips claim yours, fierce and urgent, as if this was the only language he’s fluent in—raw emotion, violent passion. His hands find your waist again, gripping tight, pulling you flush against him.

The kiss is messy, desperate, a collision of teeth and tongues, but it’s exactly what you expected. It’s how you and Logan have always been—no finesse, just fire and stubborn intensity. It’s the only way he knows how to communicate, the only way he can let go, even for a second.

Your hands slide up into his hair, yanking roughly as a guttural growl vibrates from his chest into your mouth. You feel the heat of his skin, the coiled tension in his muscles, and it ignites something wild inside you.

The anger hasn’t left—it’s just morphed into something darker, something hungrier.

The kiss is nothing like the ones from that night in the training room. This one is full of anger and frustration, all the emotions that have been simmering between you two finally bubbling over in an explosive release. His lips are hard, demanding, and the taste of whiskey lingers faintly on his breath, mixing with the metallic scent of the alley.

You push back just as fiercely, your hands tangled in his hair as you try to pour all of your hurt, your confusion, and your pent-up rage into that single kiss. For a moment, it’s all- consuming—hot, reckless, like trying to catch fire in your hands.

“You’re such a fuckin’ punk,” he grates against your lips, kneading the meat of your hips roughly like he’s trying to anchor himself to you. His teeth scrape your bottom lip, his growl vibrating through you like a warning shot, but it only spurs you on.

"You’re one to talk,” you bite back, the heat between you both as volatile as ever.

You drop your hands to his chest, gripping the leather of his jacket in your fists and yanking him closer until there's no space left, until it's hard to tell where the anger ends and the need begins.

Logan growls, the sound reverberating deep in his chest, as his hands move up your back, possessive and rough. “You keep pushin' me, kid. You really wanna see how far I’ll go?"

"Maybe I do," you shoot back, biting down lightly on his lower lip. You taste the blood—his blood—and something primal stirs in you. His healing factor kicks in almost instantly, but the heat between you spikes with the sharp tang of it. It always does.

Logan hisses sharply, tongue swiping over the blood still dotted along his lip before he’s pushing you backwards.

You have no choice but to move with him, blindly stumbling back a few steps until your shoulders hit the wall of the bar. His lips attached to your neck the whole way, teeth nipping at the rapid flutter of your pulse.

It’s like a wildfire spreading between you, all heat and destruction, and the alley around you seems to fade into the background, leaving nothing but the chaotic mess of you and Logan.

You consider the risks of fucking Logan in an alleyway for all of two seconds, every single warning bell in your mind going silent when his hands tighten their hold on your hips to spin your around, pushing you up against the brick roughly.

“Fine,” he concedes, yanking the fabric of your skirt up hard enough you hear a tiny rip. “I’ll give you what you want, princess.”

The sound of his zipper being tugged down might as well be a gunshot with how loudly it reverberates through your mind. Your thighs slide together slickly, aching cunt clenching in anticipation.

The soft sound of Logan pushing his jeans down is the only warning you get before the thick head of his cock is sliding over the wetness staining the fabric of your panties.

“This what you wanted?” he asks, hooking his fingers into the lace to tug it aside and slip the length of himself through your slick folds. “You need a cock in your hungry pussy to feel better?” He lines himself up with your fluttering entrance, pushing gently until the very tip slips in.

Your lips fall open, brow furrowing as he starts feeding you his length one infuriating inch at a time.

Anger still warms your gut, but you find yourself nodding wordlessly. Tiny, desperate sounds escaping your throat the deeper he sinks in.

The stretch of him is almost too much, like he’s splitting you in two. It’s the kind of sting that just barely toes the line of pain and pleasure in the best way. It has you crying out when he finally bottoms out, pressing your forehead against the brick to try and ground yourself.

Logan’s considerate enough to keep still, thumbs rubbing soothing circles over the skin of your hips as you adjust.

“God,” you groan, shifting your hips enough to feel the way his cock rubs along your walls. The burn starts to melt away into pure pleasure with every grind.

“That’s it, baby,” Logan goads, hands still planted on your hips as you start to bounce on his cock in earnest. “Write your name on this cock, tell everyone who it belongs to.”

His words just spur you on, a high whine falling from your lips as you set a steady rhythm. The slap of skin on skin getting louder, echoing around you lewdly. 

“Mm, feels good huh?” he hums, pressing a sweet kiss to your shoulder.

You barely choke out a garbled ‘yes’, thighs starting to shake with the effort of thrusting yourself back. 

“Sorry,” he says, gripping the meat of your hips to pull you back against his cock roughly. “What was that?”

“Yes!” you mewl, cheeks burning. The anger steadily drains from your body the closer you get to come, until it's an afterthought just present enough in your mind to still matter. “Feels so good, please Logan…”

Logan groans under his breath, pulling his hips back back back until he’s reaming forward. He thrusts once, twice, three times before he’s taking over. Big hands anchored to your hips to drag you back on every snap of his hips. 

Your entire body lights up, the pathetic noises passing through slack your lips barely register over the white noise rushing through your ears. Logan’s fucking you like he wants to break you, heavy hips pounding into the meat of your ass like an animal. The slap of it stinging your skin only for him to pull out and leave you empty before filling you again.

You go pliant in his grip, a high moan escaping you as he expertly hits that spongy spot inside of you that has heat pooling in your gut.

“God, I missed this,” he admits into your hair, one hand sliding around to press against your lower stomach. Logan’s hand is massive and blisteringly hot over your skin, cupping and feeling where he punches up into you with every thrust from the outside.

“Fuck, baby,” he growls, pressing his forehead to your back desperately. “Do you feel that? Feel how deep I am inside of you? Gonna fuckin’ fill you up, stuff you so full you’ll be leaking for weeks.”

“Logan,” you gasp, heat coiling in your belly. 

“I know,” he breathes, hips speeding up impossibly faster. “I got you, honey.”

You turn your head, the skin of your cheek scraping over the rough bring with every hard snap of his hips. The thick muscle of his forearm fills your eye line, strong and tan where it cages you to the bar. You swear you can see the blood pumping through his veins. Your stomach jerks with need, your mind buzzing.

Without thinking, you lean forward and bury your teeth in the muscle there. The coppery tang of blood on your tongue sends you reeling, a deep groan rumbling through your chest.

“Fuck!” Logan exclaims, giving one last thrust before he’s burying himself as far as he can. His cock throbs, pulsing as he unloads inside you. Rope after rope of come paints the shaking walls of your cunt, slicking the thrust of his that much more.

Pleasure goes off in sparks all up your spine, lighting up every vertebrae until the fireworks go off in your brain. Your hands claw at the wall desperately, eyes screwing shut as you fly over the edge.

Your mouth falls open in a silent scream as you come, hands digging into the brick hard enough that it cracks and crumbles beneath them, falling to your feet in little rock’s.

Everything around you fizzles out into nothing, just a dull hum cocooning you in this moment, and for just a second it’s like you're floating. 

The heave of Logan’s chest against your back and his lips on your neck only add to that far away feeling, nice enough that has you leaning into the warmth of his body. 

A car horn blaring somewhere in the distance jerks you out of any warm, fuzzy feelings and deposits you back in the real world. Your eyes refocus on the building in front of you, and a displeased groan rips from your chest.

“I made a mess,” you murmur quietly, looking at the two matching dents in the bar's wall and the same red powder staining your hands.

Logan huffs into the sweaty skin of your neck, an amused noise. “That’s alright,” he says, barely out of breath. He pulls out just enough to let his come start leaking out around his dick, sliding down the length of him in thick rivers of white. “So I did.”

You scoff, shaking your head in disgust as he steps away with a snort. Your voice is breathy and small when you speak, “You’re disgusting.”

It's quiet for a long time, both you and Logan dressing yourselves in silence. The thrum of traffic around you mixed with the muffled music bleeding through the wall is the only noise filling the space.

You drag your eyes to him, watching as he yanks up his jean’s zipper while you smooth your skirt down.

“I told you not to follow me. When we were back inside,” you say, voice steadier than before but just as breathless.

Logan meets your eyes, and there’s a pause. For a second, you think maybe he’ll turn around and leave, run away to try and forget this too. Instead, you hear his boots scrape against the gravel as he steps closer.

"I don't take orders well, remember?" His voice is gravelly, like he’s chewing on the words before spitting them out.

"Obviously," you huff under your breath, a humorless laugh shaking your shoulders slightly.

Logan’s lips quirk into a tiny, almost imperceptible smile, but it fades just as quickly.

He takes another step closer, close enough now that you can feel the warmth radiating off him again, his presence as heavy as ever. But this time, there’s something different.

He looks drained. Not physically, but emotionally. Worn down in a way you’ve never seen.

“I’m not good at this,” he admits quietly, his voice tired. “You know that.”

You raise an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. He hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck in that rare, almost vulnerable way he does when he’s out of his element. Finally, he meets your gaze.

“I’m…" he trails off, mouth pulling into a wince like it physically pains him to apologize. "I’m sorry…”

“Wow,” you say slowly, head tilting to the side as you study him. “That was the worst apology I’ve ever gotten.”

Logan narrows his eyes at you, a mix of irritation and reluctant amusement flickering across his face. “You gonna let me talk?” he asks curtly, but there’s no real bite to it.

You sigh, nodding your head for him to continue.

He shifts his weight, a heavy sigh falling from his lips. “I know I’ve been a stubborn ass. I’m used to keeping everyone at arm’s length. It’s safer that way. I’ve lost too many people to just let someone in without a fight.”

His voice drops, laced with a vulnerability you rarely see. “I thought if I just stayed away, it would make things easier for you. I’m not relationship material, kid. I can’t be that guy for you. I don’t want you to get hurt.” 

He shakes his head, his shoulders slumping in more as he talks. “I’m a damn mess, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. I do. A lot. It just scares the hell out of me.”

For a moment, you’re unsure how to respond. Part of you wants to lash out more, to keep the anger burning because it feels safer than the vulnerability you’re feeling now.

On the other hand, for the first time tonight, you see the man behind the adamantium, behind the claws and the gruff exterior. The man behind the Wolverine.

You only see Logan, who’s lived through centuries of loss and pain, who’s learned to build walls so thick even he can’t break through them sometimes.

And damn it, you hate how much you still care. You hate that, even after everything, Logan is the one person who can make you feel like this—angry, frustrated, and vulnerable all at once. But you can’t deny the truth any longer.

Because underneath all the anger and hurt, there’s still that spark. That stupid, stubborn spark that refuses to go out.

You take a step closer, your hand gently reaching for his. “You don’t have to be anything, Logan. You just have to try. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

He nods, a slow, deliberate movement. Taking a slow set closer to you, he takes your cheek in his hand. The bright red rawness of your skin is slowly draining, tiny cuts knitting themselves together. “I can do that.”

He slides his thumb across your cheekbone and somehow, you believe him.

It’s not perfect. It’s not a promise that everything’s going to magically be okay. But it’s a start.

Maybe that’s enough.

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[itneverendshere]

saw that jj is readers neighbor. and i see rafe absolutely hating him, until he realizes that you take care of him like he’s your baby brother, especially when things get a little rough at his house

omg yesssss! it's kinda funny that he's beefing with a teenager. thank you for the request! 🩵🫂 alsojj never met milo before bc he only showed up after the kid was already sleeping, cause luke had a tendency to get rowdier at night 😣.

you're on your own kid - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

There’s no way in hell JJ Maybank is sitting on your couch while you’re cooking away. 

Rafe swears he’s lost his mind. Maybe he hit his head harder than he thought when he was out on the boat earlier because what he’s seeing doesn’t make any sense.

There’s no way JJ is sitting there, his legs propped up on your coffee table like he owns the place. Like he belongs here. In your place. Your sister's place.

For a second, he thinks he’s gotta be dreaming. But nope, it’s real. The smell of whatever you’re cooking from the kitchen hits him in the face, and JJ’s laughter echoes through the living room.

This is your house, your space, and somehow JJ’s sitting there like he’s been here a thousand times before. He’s gotta say something.

Rafe clears his throat, trying to keep his voice normal but it comes out tight, strained. “What the hell’s Maybank doing here?”

You don’t even look up from the stove, just wave a hand in his direction, like it’s no big deal.

Like he’s no big deal. “Relax, baby. He’s just having dinner.”

“Dinner?” Rafe practically chokes on the word.

JJ catches the look on his face and smirks, leaning back further into the couch cushions.

“What, never seen a guy eat before, Cameron?”

Rafe scoffs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Dinner? At your place? Since when are you and Maybank this close?”

His eyes narrow on JJ, sprawled out on the couch like he’s got nowhere better to be. The guy’s even wearing his boots, dirt probably all over your cushions, and Rafe’s practically grinding his teeth at the sight.

JJ just smirks, because of course he does. “Jealous or somethin’, Cameron? Didn’t think you’d care.”

But then you walk over with a plate and set it down in front of JJ, and Rafe watches in shock as you ruffle his hair, so casually it’s like second nature to you.

Like you’ve done it a hundred times before.

JJ’s eating like it’s the first meal he’s had in days, and Rafe’s brain is still trying to catch up with what the hell is happening here.

You and JJ? Since when? Rafe’s stomach twists at the thought, because why would you even care about a guy like JJ? 

The guy’s got that scruffy look, bruises on his knuckles and faint ones on his arms. Rafe’s seen it before, the evidence of fights and bad nights. He knows what goes on at JJ’s house. He’s heard the stories. The arguments that spill out onto the streets late at night, the way JJ disappears for a while and comes back worse than before.

And then it hits him.

You’re not just letting him crash here.

You’re taking care of him. Looking out for him in ways that nobody else does, making sure he doesn’t completely spiral with a father like Luke Maybank.

JJ speaks up, grinning with his mouth full of food. “Her food’s so good, you gotta try it.”

“I’m her boyfriend, you think I haven’t tried her cooking?”

He’s being ridiculous, knows he’s not really jealous of a seventeen-year-old. It’s not that he’s threatened by JJ—hell no. It’s more that...he doesn’t like sharing you. Even if it’s just dinner.

He’s proud of you, though. Always has been. That big heart of yours, helping out some kid who clearly needs it.

Rafe crosses his arms, leaning against the doorway. “Since when did my girl become a goddamn soup kitchen?” The words come out harsher than he means them to, but you just glance over your shoulder and roll your eyes.

You know him too well by now.

“Baby, it’s just dinner. JJ’s had a rough day.”

“Yeah, well, so have I,” Rafe mutters under his breath, but he doesn’t push it. He can’t really. 

He knows the guys has been through it, and yeah, his dad’s a piece of work. But that doesn’t make it easier to see him sitting here, all cozy in the life Rafe’s tried to build with you. Yeah, maybe you fucking spoiled him because know the mere thought of another guy being in your space makes his blood boil. 

JJ wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, “Chill, Cameron. You’re acting like I’m movin’ in or something.”

He remembers being that kid—lost, angry, with no place to feel safe. JJ might be annoying as fuck, a walking nightmare to be around, but Rafe can’t hate him for that. Not really.

“Yeah, well, don’t get too comfortable,” Rafe mutters. He looks at you, softening. “You’ve got a heart too big for your own good, y'know that?”

“I thought you loved that about me?” You tease, turning back to the stove.

“’Course I do.” Rafe crosses the room, sitting on the arm of the couch, close enough to you but still keeping an eye on JJ. He watches as you stir something on the stove, a soft smile pulling at the corner of his mouth despite everything. Yeah, he gets annoyed, but fuck if he doesn’t love you for exactly this. You just have a way of making people feel safe, even the ones that don’t deserve it—or maybe need it most.

JJ leans back, letting out a satisfied groan. "God, that was good. She ever cook like this for you, Cameron?"

Rafe shoots him a look, eyebrows raised. "Yeah, maybe when you’re not eating all my food."

JJ just laughs, completely unfazed. “You’re lucky, man.”

Rafe doesn't answer, just stares at him, half of him wanting to tell him to get out and the other half knowing how good it must feel for the kid to have a moment where he doesn’t have to worry about anything. Rafe’s been there—different situation, same lost feeling. He looks at you again, knowing it’s you that pulled him out of that place. And now here you are, doing the same thing for JJ.

With a sigh, he slides off the couch and walks over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. “You know you’re too good for him, right?”

You laugh, leaning back into him. “For him? Or for you?”

Rafe presses a kiss to your shoulder, smiling despite himself. “Both. Definitely both.”

His lips linger there for another second before JJ’s speaking again, “Alright, y’all don’t have to be disgusting while I’m sitting here trying to digest. Seriously, have some respect. I’m a guest.”

Rafe’s jaw tightens, but he can’t help but laugh under his breath, his forehead dropping against your back. “You gotta be kidding me.” He sighs dramatically, loosening his grip on you and stepping back, but he’s still got that smirk. “You hear that, baby? We’re offending the guest. Can’t have that.”

JJ rolls his eyes so hard Rafe’s sure he’s gonna get stuck that way. “Yeah, you two keep it up, and I’m gonna lose this amazing meal you just made. Not trying to see all that lovey-dovey shit.”

Rafe leans against the counter, arms crossed, shaking his head. “You know, most people would be grateful for a free dinner.”

You toss a dish towel at JJ, which he dodges with a snicker. “You’re welcome to leave, you know.”

“Nah, nah,” JJ says quickly, stuffing the bread in his mouth. “I’m good right here.”  He stretches out again, clearly getting way too comfortable. “But if y’all could just tone down the romance while I’m around, that’d be great.”

Rafe’s still grinning, even though part of him wants to wipe that smirk right off JJ’s face. “You jealous, Maybank?”

JJ gives an exaggerated shrug. “Nah. I got my priorities straight.”

“Yeah? Like what? Getting on my last fucking nerve?” Rafe shoots back.

JJ lifts his hands in surrender, still grinning like a kid who knows exactly how make him lose his temper. “Hey, I’m just saying. Don’t go making me regret this free meal, alright?”

He glances over at you, and you’re shaking your head, smiling like this whole thing is the most entertaining show you’ve seen all week.

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it,” Rafe mutters, still eyeing JJ. “This is a one-time thing.”

JJ chuckles, unfazed. “Whatever helps you sleep at night. Just remember, I’m your girl’s favorite.” He flashes you a wink, and Rafe’s this close to tossing the bread basket at his head and tossing him out on the street.

JJ’s annoying, no doubt, but he understand, or at least he's trying to, that you’re doing it for a reason—helping the kid out, making sure he’s got a safe place for at least one night. And no matter how much he pisses him off, Rafe respects that. For your sake.

“You keep running your mouth and you’re both sleeping porch.”

Rafe turns to you, offended, “The fuck did I do?”

“You know exactly what you did,” you say, shaking your head. “Always making things competitive.”

Rafe scoffs, standing a little straighter.

“Competitive? Baby, I’m just protecting what’s mine.” He throws a glance at JJ, who’s still lounging on the couch like he owns the place.

“Man, protectin’ what?” JJ pipes up, laughing through his words. “I’m just here for the food and the show.” He gestures between the two of you. “Y’all could make a fortune if you charged admission. People love drama.”

Rafe rolls his eyes. “You’re lucky they’re not charging you rent at this point.”

He’s about to tell him to shove off the couch and leave, but the front door swings open. Monica walks in arms full of grocery bags. Little Milo is trailing behind her, clutching a stuffed dinosaur in one hand and a juice box in the other. The moment he sees Rafe, his face lights up.

“Uncle Rafey!” Milo yells, charging toward him with all the energy of a four-year-old hyped up on apple juice.

He bends down and scoops Milo up, setting him on his hip. “Hey kid. What’s up?”

Milo grins and holds up his juice box. “I got juice!”

Rafe chuckles, “Juice, huh? Sounds like a big day.”

Meanwhile, Monica’s busy setting the groceries on the counter, glancing at JJ sprawled out on the couch. She shoots Rafe a look, half-exasperated, half-amused. “Looks like we have an extra child in the house today.”

JJ, clearly not catching the jab, raises a hand. “Hey, Monica. I’m just keeping the couch warm.”

Milo tugs on Rafe’s shirt, completely oblivious to the grown-up talk. “Uncle Rafe, can I have a cookie?”

“Maybe after dinner, bud,” Rafe says, setting him down gently. “Go help your mom, okay?”

Milo pouts for a second but quickly gets distracted by the sight of JJ. He stares at him curiously, tilting his head. “Who’s that?”

JJ leans over the back of the couch, grinning. “I’m JJ. You can call me… your favorite new friend.”

Milo looks at him like he’s deciding if JJ is cool or just weird. After a second, he grins back. “Okay, JJ. Can I sit with you?”

“Sure, kid. Hop on up.”

Rafe watches as Milo clambers onto the couch next to JJ, giggling when JJ pretends to steal his dinosaur. It’s almost funny—if he wasn’t so good at making himself at home.

Monica, catching the scene, sighs and shakes her head. “Great, now he’s corrupted Milo.”

Rafe crosses his arms, unable to suppress a smirk. “He’s already got enough bad influences in his life.”

She raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Yeah, starting with you.”

Rafe raises his hands in surrender, laughing. “Fair enough.”

You’re leaning against the counter, watching the whole scene unfold, and suddenly, it just hits you.

Rafe with Milo, the way he softens when your nephew runs up to him, lifting him like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Milo’s giggles fill the room and then there’s Monica, half-smiling at Rafe’s attempts to wrangle Milo, even with JJ sprawled out on the couch, egging the kid on.

Your heart feels so full, you almost can’t stand it. It’s one of those moments where everything just… clicks. You try to keep it together, but there’s this warm feeling in your chest, and you blink back the unexpected tears. How could you feel anything but love for all of them in this moment? 

Rafe catches you staring, his eyes softening when he sees the look on your face. He raises an eyebrow, but he’s already smiling at you, “What’s that look for?”

You shake your head, grinning despite the lump in your throat. “Nothing. Just... you guys. It’s... a lot.”

JJ, ever the clown, groans from the couch, “Oh God, please don’t get all mushy now."

But you can’t help it. You step closer to Rafe, wrapping your arms around his waist, laying your head against his chest. “I just love you. All of you.”

Rafe chuckles softly, kissing the top of your head. “Love you too.”

Monica glances over with a knowing look, shaking her head. “Alright, enough of this sentimental stuff. You’re gonna make me cry, and I just got home.”

You stay wrapped in Rafe’s arms for a moment, just soaking in the warmth around you. Monica’s pulling plates from the cabinet, setting them on the table with her usual no-nonsense efficiency. JJ’s somehow got Milo giggling uncontrollably, making goofy faces and pretending to steal his dinosaur every few seconds. The kid’s losing it, practically bouncing off the couch in fits of laughter.

Rafe leans down, his lips close to your ear. “You’re okay?” he murmurs against your hair.

You smile, nodding against his chest. “Yeah. Better than good, actually.”

He pulls back slightly to look at you, his blue eyes scanning your face like he’s trying to read every thought behind it. “You sure? You looked like you were about to cry a second ago.”

You laugh a little, wiping under your eye, even though the tears never really fell. “It’s just... this. All of this. It’s perfect, you know? I don’t know. It feels like family.”

“You really think so?” Rafe asks quietly.

You nod, feeling that same warmth flood your chest again. “Yeah, I do. I love it. I love us.”

He smiles, a little crooked but real, the kind of smile you don’t see too often, but when you do, it hits you in the heart. “I love us too.”

For a second, the noise around you fades, and it’s just you and Rafe, holding onto each other like you’re the only two people in the room.

Then, predictably, JJ ruins it. “Hey, lovebirds! Save that for later. You’re killing Milo’s vibe.”

You both turn to see JJ standing with his hands on his hips, looking dramatic as ever. Milo’s grinning, clutching his dinosaur to his chest like it’s his new best friend. 

“Yeah, stop kissin'!” Milo chimes in, giggling.

You rolls your eyes but pull away from Rafe with a chuckle. “Alright, alright. No more kissing.”

Monica smirks as she finishes setting the last plate. “Don’t worry, Milo. They’ll be gross later when you’re in bed.”

Rafe gives your sister a mock glare. “You’re hilarious.”

She pats him on the back, grinning. “It’s what I’m here for.”

[neptunescore]

Princess Cake, Letter

Prompt: Letter | Pairing: Princess Cake

Jenson hadn't been in when the letter had been delivered to his house. He’d come home from a lovely dinner with Mark, stripped down to his boxers, brushed his teeth and then slept like the dead.

The driver had woken up the next day, none the wiser to what was in his post, and had gone about his morning routine lazily; eating breakfast and doing the daily house chores before — finally — deciding to step out and check his mailbox for any new envelopes.

He should’ve known. He should’ve realised immediately, should’ve recognised the letter was from him, he’d always ripped the corners of any sort of paper he had his hands on, always left those tiny (almost unnoticeable) tears at the edges. Jenson hadn’t known, though. He hadn’t looked.

He hadn’t looked.

He’d opened the envelope casually, had licked the tip of his index finger and unfolded the paper as if it were any normal mail. And then—

Jenson doesn’t quite remember what had happened, had only come back to himself while he was booking the flight; his phone in his left hand while his right one haphazardly stuffed an assortment of random clothes into his suitcase.

The letter had been direct, straight to the point — an address, a plea for his presence, and a signature at the end.

What an idiot, Jenson had chuckled softly to himself later in the plane, who the hell signs a letter like that.

Then again, Nico was always pulling shit like this — desperate to remain formal, to have any feel of normalcy he could when things went awry.

His smile had dropped quickly after that thought.

He’s standing outside the hotel room door now, hand knocking incessantly against the dark wood as his foot taps against the tiled floor impatiently, “Nico!”

“Nico, I swear to God if you don’t open this door right now! Nic-”

“Jense.” A sob. A squeak as the door opens.

Nico’s finally in clear view of him; trembling hands holding the handle, his body drowning in an oversized hoodie, hair mussed up as if he’d run his fingers through them repeatedly, and he's crying. He's crying.

Jenson lets go of his suitcase, immediately pulling Nico forward, wrapping up the man in his embrace and pushing the other’s tear stained face into his chest.

“Nico- sweetheart, what’s happened? What’s wrong?”

“Jense. Jense-” A wail this time.

Jenson could feel his heart breaking, his thoughts frantic as he pulled Nico even closer, panicked fingers reaching up to hold the blonde’s soft face.

“Love. love, tell me what’s wrong, please,” he caresses the wet skin beneath his thumb,”Nico, please. Tell me what’s wrong, I’m here now, I'm here. I’ll fix it, I promise”

“I don’t know what to do-” hitched breaths, “I lost my phone, and I can’t remember what to do and he left me all alone, Jense! He left me, and I want to go home!”

Oh. Oh.

Jenson let his body fall still, let Nico bury himself back into his chest as the taller man sighed in relief. He could fix this. It was okay.

“Oh, love. It’s okay. Let’s go home, yeah?”

His hold around Nico tightened as he felt the blue-eyed man relax against him. Jenson could already feel the brief sense of ease that had filled him fading away as a seething rage grew in its place.

Lewis.

Lewis would pay for this.

I love princess cake so much, so seeing this request in my inbox had me GUSHING🤭 Hopefully, you had just a good time reading this as I had writing it💗 Also, I listened to 'Tere Mere (from "Chef")' while writing this, and it made me realise that the songs I play genuinely have an effect on what I write😭 (you'll get it if u listen to the song)

Rules and details☆°•~

As always, credits to @cafekitsune for the dividers♡

[iamgonnagetyouback]

jess mariano fic where they bicker a lot and the whole town is tired of it (especially luke 💀) and fem!reader calls him sunshine because he's so obviously NOT sunshine and he calls her princess and they're so mean but also they're in love your honor (pre-dating)?????

thank you so much for the request love!!

𝟷𝚔 || 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒

♡ ︎ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: You and Jess hated each other, and the town was tired of it.

♡ ︎ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: None

♡ ︎ꜱʜɪᴘ: Jess Mariano x Reader

You were wiping down the counter at Luke’s, rolling your eyes for the hundredth time that morning as you listened to Jess clatter dishes in the back. Since the day he showed up in Stars Hollow, you’d been at war. He had this knack for getting under your skin, always with some snarky remark or that cocky grin that made you want to throw a coffee pot at his head.

And, of course, Luke—bless his exhausted heart—thought it would be a good idea for you to train Jess when he started working at the diner. Which meant you were stuck with him every shift.

"Careful, Princess," Jess muttered as he brushed past you, grabbing plates to bring out to a table. "Wouldn’t want you to break a nail."

You shot him a glare, biting back the urge to snap something worse. "Please, Sunshine, if I wanted your advice, I’d ask for it."

He turned to face you, an eyebrow quirked. "Sunshine?" Jess's voice dripped with sarcasm as he leaned in, so close you could smell the faintest hint of cigarettes and the leather of his jacket. "You’ve got jokes now?"

"Oh, yeah. You’re just a ray of joy, aren’t you?" You crossed your arms, refusing to back down.

"I’m not the one acting like I’m too good for this place," he retorted, eyes narrowing in that familiar way that made your blood boil. "I get it, you were the queen of Stars Hollow High, but guess what? No one cares here."

Your jaw clenched at the mention of your high school reputation. The "popular girl" label was something you'd worked hard to leave behind, and Jess wielded it like a weapon, knowing exactly how much it pissed you off.

"Maybe if you stopped acting like an arrogant jerk for five minutes, people wouldn’t hate you so much." You shot back, shoving a coffee mug into his hand.

"And maybe if you stopped pretending to be perfect, Princess, you wouldn’t be so insufferable." Jess’s smirk tugged at his lips as he called you the nickname he knew you hated most.

Before you could fire back, Luke’s voice boomed from across the diner. “Will you two stop for five minutes?!”

You turned, wide-eyed, just as Jess casually flipped the mug in his hand, and—of course—it slipped. The ceramic hit the floor with a sharp crack.

Luke threw his arms in the air. “Again?! Another mug? I can’t afford this many replacements just because you two can’t flirt like normal people!”

“Flirt?” you and Jess echoed in unison, horrified at the very suggestion.

You were about to respond when the door swung open again, and Lorelai entered, taking one look at the scene before shaking her head. “Oh, God. They’re at it again.” She grabbed Rory’s arm and started pulling her out of the diner. “Let’s go, Rory. It’s way too early for this.”

“But my pancakes—”

“We’ll get pancakes at Al’s. Come on.”

Luke groaned audibly from behind the kitchen window. “Can you two please just get along for one shift? Is that too much to ask?”

You shot Luke a look. "Tell that to your nephew. He’s the one who acts like he owns the place."

“Maybe because I’m the only one here who actually does any work,” Jess quipped, smirking as he leaned against the counter beside you, arms crossed.

Your fists clenched, resisting the urge to knock the smug look off his face. "You're insufferable."

“And you’re spoiled.” His words were harsh, but there was something flickering beneath his tone, something softer, hidden behind the sharp edges of his sarcasm.

“Jess,” Luke warned from the kitchen, his patience thinning by the second. “I swear to God, if you two don’t quit it—”

But you couldn’t stop yourself. Something about Jess made your blood boil, but in a way that also made your heart race. Maybe it was the way he never backed down from you, always meeting your fire with his own. Or maybe it was the way he looked at you—like he was challenging you, daring you to push back.

"I’d rather be spoiled than miserable like you," you shot back, fully aware of how cruel it sounded.

Jess’s smirk faded, and for a second, just a second, you saw something crack in his expression. He stepped closer, voice lower, more serious. "Yeah? Well, at least I don’t pretend to be something I’m not."

Your heart thudded in your chest. You weren’t sure if it was anger or something else entirely. But the way he was looking at you now, eyes locked on yours, made your stomach flip.

Suddenly, you felt like you were standing on the edge of something dangerous.

"You don’t know anything about me," you whispered, hating how breathless you sounded.

"I know enough," he muttered, his voice quiet, almost vulnerable for once. His gaze flickered to your lips for a split second before he looked away, jaw clenched.

Before you could respond, Luke stormed over, slamming a towel onto the counter between the two of you. "Enough. Both of you. I’m not going to let you ruin this diner with whatever—" He gestured between you and Jess, flustered. "This is."

Jess backed away first, his usual arrogance slipping back into place. "Whatever you say, Uncle Luke."

You scoffed, shaking your head as you grabbed the coffee pot and moved to refill a customer’s mug. But as you walked away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between you and Jess. Something electric, something dangerous.

And maybe, just maybe, that was exactly why you couldn’t stay away from him.

@honesttogodbimbo your request is pretty much this only so check this out and you can tell me if you want something different instead! 💗

[lillysturns]

Breathtaking - matt sturniolo

Based on this request

Summary: You and matt get invited to a birthday party and with the dress code being dress, (for the girls obviously) you struggle a bit.

Warnings: A little cursing here and there but else none just total fluff. :)

Reminder: English is not my first language so i’m sorry if there is any misspellings, also my first fanfic so i’m sorry again if it’s bad or not what you wanted!

Me and Matt are sitting in the kitchen, when my phone alarm goes off. “Fuck, that scared the shit out of me” he says and dramatically puts a hand on his chest.

I chuckle slightly, then press the alarm away and stand up from my chair. “You gonna get ready now too or no?” i ask him while leaning against the kitchen counter. “Mh, give me ten minutes and i’ll start” he says while also standing up and walking over to the couch to sit down.

I sigh and walk into our bedroom, closing the door behind me. I sit down at my makeup desk and pull out my phone to connect it to my speaker, because i wanna listen to music. The music starts playing and i start doing my makeup while vibing a little, since my favourite song is playing.

After around 30 minutes i’m done with my makeup and spray on some setting spray on it, smiling at myself in the reflection slightly. I get up from my chair and open the bedroom door to see what matt is up to, obviously he’s still on the couch not getting ready.

“Matt i swear you better get ready now” i say while looking at him, laying on the couch and watching some lacrosse game. He looks at his phone and sees the time. “Oh shit, yeah babe don’t worry i’ll get ready now-“ he stops mid sentence and looks at you, “Wow you look stunning” he says while getting up and walking over to me. I smile shyly and shake my head.

“Don’t lie, lying is not good you know?” i say as i softly press a finger against his forehead. He just laughs slightly and kisses me softly. I kiss him back and swing my hands around his neck, then pull away from the kiss. “I still have to change, ill be right back and while i’m gone you better be getting ready” i say while giving him a quick peck on his lips, then disappearing into the bedroom to get changed.

I hear him chuckle from outside the bedroom and slightly smile, then walk over to my wardrobe and search for something to wear. A second after i begin searching, my best friend calls me, i obviously pick up.

“Hey girl, soo i hope you didn’t forget about the dress code i made for us girls” she says with alot of excitement. Then it hits me, i have to wear a dress which i normally don’t do because i hate wearing tighter clothes. „O-oh yeah no, i didn’t forget…” i say while looking at myself in the mirror. “Okay amazinggg, see you soon girly love ya!” she’s says and hangs up.

The moment she hangs up i look into my closet, hoping to find a wider dress. I finally find a little bit wider one and put it on, but the moment i put it on tears well up in my eyes. “I can’t wear a dress i feel too big” i think to myself while trying to hold the tears back. Moments later matt comes in.

“Okay you ready sweetheart because-“ he stops talking once he sees that i’m on the verge of tears. “Baby what’s wrong?” he says while going up to me and lifting my chin up with his fingers, so i look at him.

“I look stupid in this, matt” i say while looking at him with teary eyes. He shakes his head. “You look perfect in that dress, it suits you so well” he says while softly caressing my cheek. “B-but look at my tummy” i say while turning around to look in the mirror again. “Beautiful yes, now stop looking at your reflection” he says while trying to cover the mirror with his big hands.

I chuckle softly seeing him struggling to cover the mirror. “See that’s what i wanna hear, non of that other stuff okay?” he says while pulling me into a hug. I instantly melt into the hug and smile against his chest. “I wish you could see yourself with my eyes, because you’re literally breathtaking” he says while holding me close. “Stop it, im gonna cry” i say while looking up at him.

“No no, no crying here” he says and lifts me up. “Heyy let me down” i say while squealing slightly. He shakes his head and spins me around before setting me back down. “You ready to go, pretty girl?” he says while taking my hand, intertwining fingers with me. I just nod and smile at him.

“I’m so happy to have you, you know that?” i say while we walk out the bedroom, leaving for the party.

I really hope yall like this and if anyone wants to be on the tag list let me know!

@honeybee240 here you go!!

[xmads-omensx]

CHAPTER 1 - I SIT HERE AND SMILE DEAR

MASTERLIST

Word Count: 4,091

Content warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff, violence f you squint (pushing and shoving in a malicious way), mentions of alcohol, Ronnie Radke, blood, descriptions of a small wound

Tag List: @concreteangel92 @lma1986 @dragonfly92 @thisis--mj @bloody-delusion-expert @girlagainstg0d

(Please message or comment if you would like to be added to the taglist, or if I forgot to add you <3)

WARPED TOUR 2011 BECCA

My knee bounced up and down as I sat on the leather sofa in the tour bus. We had never had a proper tour bus before. The closest thing we had was Theo’s Dad’s old van that kept breaking down. Nerves shot through my body as I tried to slow my heart-rate and regain my normal breathing.

Warped Tour was by far the biggest tour we had ever done. Sure, we were still supporting other bands, but we weren’t performing in a small, run-down dive bar. This was real. Bring Me The Horizon. Pierce The Veil. Sleeping With Sirens. All Time Low. Motionless In White. Our favourite bands were playing alongside us. We were one of them.

“Quit bouncing your leg Becca, I feel like I’m experiencing a fucking earthquake right now, jeez.” Johnny, our bass player, complained.

The rest of the guys erupted in laughter.

“Calm your tits, Johnny! Leave me alone.” I laughed in reply.

I had never been this nervous for a set before. We only had one album out, Arachnophobia, that had been doing reasonably well, but I was still so nervous. What if we get booed off stage? What if we fuck up the timings? What if I trip and fall flat on my fucking face? Worst-case scenarios flashed through my mind at lightning speed, corrupting whatever positive and confident thought that I still possessed.

“I need some air.” I said to the guys in a small voice.

“You good?” Kevin, our lead guitar player called out to me from his seat at the opposite end of the sofa.

“No. I just need a minute of fresh air.” I tried to reassure him, ultimately failing miserably.

“You sure?” Luke, our rhythm guitar player asked from his bunk.

“Yep. I won’t be long.” I mumbled, just loud enough for them to hear.

I walked around the festival site for a little while. The tents where bands were stood meeting fans and selling merch were absolutely packed. We had been selling merch and meting some fans as well, but nowhere near the scale of any of the bands situated near our tent.

This was our first ever festival. As I said, we were a small band. No one really knew who we were. That could also be said about some of the other bands on this tour as well to be fair. Warped Tour seemed like a brilliant opportunity for new fans to start listening to us when our manager, Nick, pitched it to us. But now it seemed like literal hell on earth. God, what if people left our set?

I tried to push those thoughts down, but nothing worked. As soon as I forced out one doubt, another just popped up in its place. It felt like my mind was the hydra from ancient Greek myth. Equally as venomous and persistent. It was going to be difficult to keep those negative feelings at bay for the rest of the tour. I had always struggled with not feeling good enough, and this tour was just amplifying those ideas. If nobody came to our set, everything would have been for nothing.

My phone started ringing in my pocket after about twenty minutes of my walk. It was Nick. I stared at the screen for a second. Breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth.

“Hey.” I said straight after answering the call.

“Hey yourself! Your set is in five minutes Bex. Get your ass to the stage right fucking now before I either lose my shit or lose my job. Whichever comes first.” Nick yelled down the line over the band who were finishing up their set before ours was due to start. I could hear the smile in his voice.

“Yep I’ll be there in a sec. I lost track of time, sorry.” I replied hurriedly.

“Great. Thanks. See you in a sec then.” Nick finished.

I started running back towards the stage when I bumped into something. It felt like a lamppost or something tall and thin like that. Except there weren’t any lampposts here. I looked up to see a tall, heavily tattooed man with long, black hair looking down at me with a slightly pained smile on his beautiful face.

I didn’t have time for this. I called out a quick sorry as I kept running towards the stage.

By the time I got there, I was doubled over and panting trying to catch my breath. “She’s here!” Luke shouted as I rounded the corner to the side-stage area. I was handed a microphone by Nick

“Good luck you guys. You’ve got this.” Nick encouraged with his arms round mine and Johnny’s shoulders. I took a breath in through my nose and out through my mouth as the rest of the guys walked onto the stage to begin the intro to the first song on our album, Make me Wanna Die, “Give ‘em hell kid.” Nick whispered in my ear with a pat on my back. I closed my eyes for a second then stepped out onto the stage.

The world around me seemed to slow down as I lifted my mic up to my mouth to start the song. My lyrics flew out of my mouth with a natural ease. This wasn’t as hard as I thought. A large crowd had formed at the stage. Not too bad for our first show of the tour. Some people in the crowd were singing along to the song, which filled me with pure joy and unrivalled confidence. I started to move and jump across the stage which excited the crowd even more. By the time we were halfway through our set, the crowd had grown significantly and even began singing even louder to the words that they knew.

I had never experienced such a buzz from the crowd. It felt electric. Looking at the rest of the band, it looked like they felt the same. Wide, beaming smiles were plastered on their faces. I was sure I wore a similar one on my own face. In fact, my face hurt because of the smile that covered my face.

Up until this point, the largest show that we had ever played was to only about eighty people. But now, we were performing to a crowd of about two hundred and fifty. It wasn’t a massive crowd by any means, but it was huge to us. All of our favourite bands started out like this, playing for much smaller crowds. It gave me hope that one day we could be as big as those bands. Someday.

“How is everyone doing?” I shouted into my microphone.

The crowd cheered in response. Holy shit.

“You guys having fun?” I asked.

The crowd cheered in response again. This felt so surreal.

“That’s good. We are too. You guys have been a great crowd.” I began. “This is our first Warped Tour, so thanks for making our first show sop fun because we are having an absolute blast up here.”

The crowd cheered and applauded.

“As you have probably gathered, I’m not exactly brilliant at this whole crowd work thing, but I’m not really used to crowds as fantastic as you guys.” I said with a huge grin on my face.

The crowed roared with cheers and applause.

“So anyway, this song is our last song of the set, and if you don’t mind we would like to play r for you.” I began. “I mean, it’s not like you really have much of a choice, we pre-decided the setlist before we came on stage.”

Laughter erupted around me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a tall, skinny guy with long dark hair cascading over his shoulders with tattoos on his arms, at least I thought they were tattoos. I couldn’t tell if it was black paint or tattoos. Either way, they looked good. He was standing backstage with four other guys who were all fitted in similar outfits. They must be the band following us. The man who caught my eye was the tallest of the group. He looked familiar but I couldn’t place it.

“This song was written by one of my favourite bands and are one of the bands who inspired me to pursue music. We hope you have had a great time here watching our set. We have been The Magpies and this is ‘Call Me’ by Blondie.

The intro started and an immense sense of joy coursed through my veins. Since I was a kid, Debbie Harry had been one of my heroes and I was so proud that we got to play one of her songs to a crowd of people.

And that was the moment that I knew we were going to make it.

 “Holy fucking shit guys, you crushed that.” Nick yelled out at us with an impossibly huge grin  plastered on his face. He clapped us each one-by-one as we came off of the stage. “The crowd fucking loved you guys.”

“That was kickass.” Luke exclaimed with a look that I can only describe as pure joy.

“Dude what the fuck just happened.” Johnny exclaimed.

“Fuck that was sick!” Kevin yelled directly into my ear as he swung his arm over my shoulder.

“Damn I’m pumped!” Theo laughed.

“How the fuck did we pull that off?” I laughed along with the rest of the guys.

“Because we are hot shit Bex. Hot fucking shit.” Kevin shouted back at us as he followed Nick away from the stage and towards the bus.

I paused for a moment and watched the guys, my family, walk ahead of me. I never thought anything like this could happen to us. Let alone at such a young age. I was only 18 when we did our first Warped Tour.

“Come on slow coach we want to go hang before the barbeque.” Nick called back at me. I laughed and followed after them

Every year, there was a barbeque on the first day of tour. It was mainly so that everyone in all the bands and crew could meet eachother. Kind of like an icebreaker night I guess. This was going to be the most nervous I had been so far, including the show. Because now, I had no choice but to meet all of those bands who were practically the reason that I made music. Plus, I was pretty confident in saying that meeting Oli Sykes in person might literally kill me.

The fact that we would be meeting our heroes in such a short space of time was seriously starting to make me freak out. How were we worthy of all of this?

We made it to the bus and all sat down to play some Xbox together before the barbeque. Luke had flung himself onto the black, leather L-shaped sofa opposite the door.

“I don’t give a fuck what the rest of you want, I’m playing Call Of Duty.” He said whilst signing into the game and running a hand through his short blonde hair.

“What the fuck man! We play that all the fucking time.” Johnny complained.

“Let me be play too and you can do whatever you want.” Kevin laughed whilst grabbing the second controller and joining Luke in the game.

“Fuck you guys I’m going to have a nap before we have to go.” Theo sighed with a yawn, tying his shoulder length, curly brown hair into a low bun as he walked towards his bunk.

I sat next to Luke and laughed at their childish bickering as they played their game. Johnny sat shouting commands at the two other boys.

“If you want to sit there and yell at us then you should have joined the fucking game asshole.” Kevin laughed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as they had begun to slip down.

“Fuck you, there’s only two controllers dipshit.” Johnny argued back.

I started to block out their arguing as I picked up the book that I had been reading and snuggled further into the corner of the sofa. I had found comfort in books during the very short time that we had been touring. Sure, performing on stage was an escape from real life, for both us and the crowd, but that was still work at the end of the day. Reading, however, had the power to transport you to a different world entirely, a different dimension even if that’s what you wanted to find. It allowed my mind to escape the cage that it was trapped in and explore the endless possibilities that life held. It allowed me to hide from my problems. To escape reality. To run and never stop running, not until I was happy, not until I was free. And that freedom was the greatest feeling in the world.

 Before I knew it, my eyes had started to droop and I drifted off into a peaceful sleep. The best that I would probably have on this tour. My dreams were surprisingly pleasant as I fell deeper into my slumber before a pair of hands grasped my shoulders and began to shake me awake.

“Rebecca…. Beccaa…. Bex…. Beckyyy…..” A deep sing-song voice chanted as he shook my shoulders. My eyes fluttered awake, and leaning over me stood Theo. “There she is.” He said once my eyes had fully opened.

“What?” I mumbled as I rubbed my eyes.

“We have to go in like forty minutes, and we thought you might want to get ready.” He went on.

I stood up and stretched my arms over my head before letting out a yawn and making my way to the bathroom so that I could re-do my makeup and brush the birds nest that had formed in my hair.

I decided not to do anything crazy and to just touch up the makeup that I already had on, which was a more natural look with dark brown eyeshadow lining my upper lash line just a little bit. I tied up the top half of my long, brunette hair into a bun at the back of my head, letting some face-framing pieces hang loosely around my face. I changed into a white tank top with spaghetti straps and some black wide-leg ripped jeans with fishnets underneath. I grabbed an old, red Flash hoodie, that previously belonged to my ex but I liked the hoodie too much to return it, and tied it around my waist just in case it got chillier later in the night.

“Okay I’m ready.” I announced to the guys who were all sat on the sofa arguing over what movie to watch later. Unsurprising as they usually had this argument, then would watch a movie that wasn’t even part of the equation to begin with.

“Great, let’s go.” Nick said as he stood up, rubbing his hands together.

We all nodded in agreement and followed him out of the bus and towards the barbeque. There was an opening in the middle of where the buses were parked in which a large fire pit, surrounded by mismatched deckchairs, had been set up. The barbeque itself was positioned next to a staff bus, that the Warped Tour management team were staying in. They were the ones who essentially ran the tour and wanted to ensure that it went as smoothly as possible.

Straight away, a British accent caught my attention as five guys started approaching us. “Hey! You guys must be the Magpies.” One of the men asked us with a huge grin on his face.

Holy fucking shit. Danny Worsnop from Asking Alexandria was talking to us. THE Danny Worsnop from THE Asking Alexandria was talking to us. Us? We were nobodies here. He fucking knew who we were. Holy fucking shit I must still be dreaming.

“Yep that’s us.” Johnny said with a smile on his face, sticking out his arm to shake Danny’s hand. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to introduce yourselves, we are big fans, Becca especially. But I’m Johnny and I’m the bass player, this dumbass is Theo our drummer, Luke and Kevin here are our guitar players, and this shy bitch is Becca, our singer.” Johnny introduced. We each raised our hands in a wave when Johnny said our names.

“It’s so nice to meet you all. It’s about time a new band joined the lineup.” Ben laughed.

“Well, the Black Veil Brides guys are new here.” Cam said.

“Yeah, obviously, but I mean a band we haven’t met before.” Ben laughed at his bandmate and rolled his eyes at Cam playfully.

“We toured with them last year for a while. They’re great guys.” James said to the rest of us.

“Hey, you should totally meet them later if you’re up for it.” Ben enthusiastically suggested.

“Yeah, totally.” Theo said with a smile. “But let’s eat first, I’m fucking starving.”

“Agreed.” Danny laughed. We all started walking towards the barbeque and Ben fell into step with me. We fell into easy conversation. I could tell immediately that we were going to be good friends.

“So how did your first show go?” Ben asked.

“It went fucking amazingly. We’ve never played to a crowd that big before, and they actually seemed to enjoy our set which was fucking brilliant.” I gushed.

“Yeah, I caught some songs towards the end of your set. You guys fucking crushed it. Andy said he saw the last few songs and thought you guys were pretty cool.” He said.

“Andy?” I asked.

“Yeah. Oh shit you haven’t met him yet. He’s the singer in Black Veil Brides. He’s super cool, I think you’d like him.” Ben explained.

“Cool. It’s weird having this many people on a tour together.” I continued. “It’s only ever really been us supporting another band. Never any more than that.”

“I remember when we started out like that. We thought we’d never make it, but look where we are now.” He laughed. “Once you get used to it, it gets less weird.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” I replied.

Before I even realised it, we had reached the barbeque. People from various different bands and their crew mingled about as they all socialised with eachother. It seemed as though most of the people here already knew eachother from previous tours.

Ben introduced me to his friends on the tour, which was already a shock to be hanging out with Ben fucking Bruce. I tried to push my nerves down as he introduced me to the likes of Vic Fuentes, Kelin Quinn, Oli Sykes, Chris Motionless and Ricky Horror. I surprised myself with how ‘normal’ I managed to act around them. After all, it’s not every day that you meet your favourite musicians. I tried to remind myself that I would be touring with these people, so it wouldn’t be the best idea to fangirl and embarrass myself the first time I met them.

Ben and I grabbed a burger each and sat down on some of the spare deck chairs to eat them.

“Have you just put gherkins in your fucking burger?” I asked Ben in utter disbelief.

“Yep.” He grinned, popping the p. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“Of course I do that’s disgusting! I don’t think we can be friends after this.” I gasped at him in mock offense.

“Wow. You’re one of those?” Ben chuckled.

“One of what?” I laughed at him.

“Someone who doesn’t have taste.” He laughed.

I threw my dirty napkin at him in response.

“EW!” He screamed dramatically, throwing his own napkin right back at me.

I laughed hysterically at him.

“Okay. I’m glad you two are having fun, but I was sitting there, so if you could just move that would be great.” A deep voice tore through the bliss that I was experiencing with Ben.

“Oh fuck off Ronnie, we both know you weren’t sat here.” Ben rolled his eyes.

“Seriously, Bruce? You’re gonna start shit on the first day of tour?” The man, who I assumed was called Ronnie sighed back.

“Just fuck off Ronnie, the no one has to start shit.” Ben said through gritted teeth.

“Seriously man, why do you have to make everything so damn hard all the time!” Ronnie shouted at Ben.

“I’m not the problem here man.” Ben raised his hands in mock surrender.

“Take your pretty friend here, and go suck each other’s faces somewhere else jackass!” Ronnie yelled.

“Woah, woah.” Ben started, raising his voice at Ronnie, “We both know that’s not what was happening here okay. Let’s just move on.”

“Move.” Ronnie said through gritted teeth.

“No.” Ben said with a laugh, as he leaned back in the chair and crossed his legs, relaxing further.

Before I could even register what was happening, Ronnie lunged forward and shoved Ben out of the chair backwards. I jumped up and pushed Ronnie backwards so that he couldn’t lunge towards Ben anymore. Instead, he only stumbled back a few steps before he shoved me backwards too, nocking my beer out of my hand, making it spill all over me. I put my hands below me to try and stop the fall, when I felt a sharp pain in my hand. I lifted my hand up to get a look at it, only to be greeted with a shard of glass poking out the palm of my hand and blood dripping from the wound.

I winced as I slowly tried to pull the broken glass out of my hand, completely oblivious to the fact that Johnny and Luke had ran over and dragged Ronnie away before punching him in the face, knocking him to the floor. The shard of glass wasn’t anything massive, but once it was out of my hand, more blood pooled in the palm of my hand.

From behind me, I felt a pair of arms snake underneath my armpits and begin to pull me up to my feet. Once I was standing again, I turned to see who had lifted me up. I was greeted by a chest clad in a black t-shirt with the Batman logo on. The shirt hung slightly loosely on the skinny frame of the person, who I assumed was a man, who now stood in front of me. I had to crane my neck to see his face, which was obscured by long black locks of hair. I could make out an array of tattoos on his arms that I hadn’t noticed before.

Holy shit. This was the guy that I had literally ran into before my set earlier.

“You okay? That looks deep.” He said, concern plastered all over his face as he took my hand in his much bigger one.

“Y-y-yeah.” I stuttered out, still in shock from what had just happened.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” He led me gently away from where Johnny and Luke were being held back by Asking Alexandria and Ronnie was being dragged away by Jacky Vincent and Ryan Seaman.

The man led me to a tour bus where we met another man, who also had long black hair.

“Hey man, what the fuck?” The new man said with an incredulous look on his face as we got closer to the bus.

“Ronnie is back on his dumbass shit.” The first man, who was still holding my elbow, said in reply.

“Of course he is.” The second man scoffed while going into the tour bus, holding open the door for myself and the first man.

Their tour bus looked pretty much the same as ours did, except there was lots of makeup all over the place and various items that looked like they were made of leather. It was messier than ours too which I liked. It made me feel better about how I left things when I was getting ready.

“This is Jake.” The first man gestured to the second man. “I’m not too sure where the others are though? Probably still at the barbeque. It’s Becca right?”

“Oh, yeah. That’s me.” I said quietly with a weak laugh.

He stared at me for a beat as I looked at him expectantly. It felt like he was looking right into my soul with those blue eyes of his.

“Who are you?” I asked timidly.

“Me?” He pointed at his chest.

I nodded my head. I could tell he wasn’t very good at talking.

“I’m Andy.” He said with a beautiful smile. “Pleasure to meet you.”

[crimes-self-ships]

gamers i am in denial of a new guy once again

[thedapperraven]

UNREAL UNEARTH, UNHEARD, UNAIRED, YEAH ANDREW I’M UNWELL

[sarcasticbeanie]

lord give me one more chance

[bookshopsandtea]

So. I got into the arcana recently

[venomousray]

If someone tells you ‘I’m normal about this character’ and they show you a hatchetfield character. Just know they are in fact not normal about that character and likely have an entire list of headcanons, a folder of screenshots, and several pieces of art of that character. (It’s me. I’m that person)

[itneverendshere]

maybe wheezie or even sarah needing rafe to pick them up from school or attend a back to school night. like the school calls rafe to pick up sarah after getting in a fight. or the teacher calls him in to discuss that wheezie struggling in math

thank you for the request!!! 🫶🏻🫂 i think rafe's always had a soft spot for wheezie so i did this one for her cause i personally can see their dynamic being really cute.

 we're both older now - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

Sitting in the passenger seat of Rafe’s truck, you couldn’t help but sneak glances at him. His hands were on the wheel, jaw clenched just enough for you to notice, but not enough to freak out.

It’s been months since rehab, and you swear, you’ve never seen him like this before—so focused, so... responsible. It’s kinda hot.

But that’s not what you’re here for. Not right now.

You’re headed to Wheezie’s school because, apparently, she’s been struggling with math. She didn’t want to tell Rafe because Ward’s rarely at home these days and she didn’t want to bother him. When you found out, you could’ve smacked her. You get it—Rafe’s been under a lot of pressure lately—but you don’t think she realizes how much he cares about her. That’s why you two are heading to a parent-teacher meeting like it’s the most normal thing in the world. It’s not. 

“I should’ve known something was off,” Rafe mutters, breaking the silence.

You look over at him. “You couldn’t have. Wheezie’s good at keeping stuff to herself.”

He shakes his head, his grip tightening on the wheel just a little. “I’m her brother. I should’ve noticed.”

You reach over, resting your hand on his arm. “You’re doing your best, baby. That matters.”

He lets out a breath, his tension easing under your touch. God, sometimes it’s hard to believe he’s the same guy who used to pick fights at every chance he got just a few years ago. It’s been almost a year since his last relapse, but every day you see him fighting to be better—for himself, for you, for his sisters. And honestly? It does something to you, seeing him like this. 

You pull into the school parking lot, and he parks the truck, turning off the engine. For a second, he just sits there, staring straight ahead. You know what he’s thinking. He’s wondering if he’s good enough to handle this, to handle all of it.

“You got this,” You say softly.

Together, you walk into the school, and after a quick conversation with the receptionist, you’re led to Wheezie’s teacher’s classroom. The room smells like dry-erase markers and stress, the kind you remember from my own high school days.

Except, this is a private school, completely different from what you were used to, and back then, you loved school. You were good at it too—really good, actually. Straight A’s, honors, full ride to a decent college…but life had other plans.

You look at Rafe as you wait for the teacher to start the meeting. He’s sitting up straight, listening intently, and your chest tightens a little.

The same guy who used to blow off any responsibility now sitting here, laser-focused, ready to step up for his little sister. The teacher starts talking about Wheezie’s grades, how she’s been falling behind in math, and you can see the guilt in his face. You squeeze his knee under the table, trying to ground him, but honestly? This was hitting a little too close to home for you, too.

“I can help her,” You hear yourself say before you’ve even really thought about it. Rafe turns to look at you, surprised, and you shrug like it’s no big deal.

The teacher blinks, probably not expecting the girlfriend to jump in with a solution. “What did you score on your final exams?”

You move in your seat, not expecting the question but not exactly shy about your answer either. "I got a 1600 on my SATs," You said, trying to sound casual about it, even though you could see Rafe’s eyebrows shoot up next to you. 

The teacher’s eyes widen slightly. "That’s impressive," she says, "You must’ve had a lot of options for college."

You shrug again feeling that familiar feeling of bittersweet regret. "Yeah, I had a full ride to a few places.”

“And you didn’t go?”

The way she says says it—like she can’t imagine why you wouldn’t go—hurts a little. 

"Yeah, well... life happened." You try to brush it off like it doesn’t bother you.

Rafe’s hand slides over to yours under the table, interlocking your fingers and giving you a gentle squeeze. It’s subtle, but it’s enough for you. To remind you that you made the right choices, even if they weren’t easy ones.

The meeting wraps up pretty quickly after that.

The teacher gives Rafe some advice on how to help Wheezie stay on track, and you both thank her before heading out of the classroom. As you walk down the hallway, he stays quiet for a bit, and you can’t really read what’s going through his head.

By the time you get back to the truck, he turns to you, his brow furrowed slightly, like he’s still processing everything. "You got a perfect score on your SATs?"

Three years into the relationship and he’s still learning things about you every day.

You let out a small laugh, brushing some hair behind your ear. "Yeah. It’s not a big deal."

"That’s kinda insane," he says, looking at you like he’s seeing a whole new side of you. “Why didn’t you ever tell me that?”

You shrug for the millionth time today, suddenly feeling a little shy. “I don’t know. It just never came up. It’s not like it matters now, anyway.”

"It does matter." His voice is firm, and when you glance over, you can see how serious he looks. "You gave up a lot to help your sister. That’s not nothing."

Your throat tightens, and you have to swallow down the emotion rising inside you. The way Rafe says it, like he actually gets it, means more than he probably knows. "I just did what I had to do."

He nods slowly, like he understands that feeling all too well. "You didn’t have to offer to help Wheezie today. But you did.”

You don’t want to make a big deal out of it. "I want to help her. She deserves it."

Rafe doesn’t say anything, just looks at you with this soft, almost disbelieving expression. Like he can’t wrap his head around the fact that you’re still here, beside him, helping his family without a second thought.

"You’re amzing, y’know that?" he murmurs, his voice low and warm in that way that makes your stomach flip.

You feel your cheeks heat up, a shy smile tugging at your lips. "Stop."

"I mean it." He reaches over, cupping your face gently with his hand, thumb brushing lightly across your cheek. His eyes soften as they meet yours, filled with so much adoration it makes you want to hide. "I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m really fucking grateful."

You bite your lip, glancing down at his other hand on your knee before looking back up at him.

"You’ve been working hard. For yourself, for us. I see that."

His jaw tightens just slightly, and he looks down, almost like he’s not sure how to take the compliment. But when his eyes meet yours again,

"I’m trying," he says quietly. "I’m trying to be better."

"And you are," you whisper. "Every day."

The months of hard work, the late nights when you’ve held him through his doubts, the mornings when he’s shown up for his family even when it was hard. It’s all there, between you, unspoken but understood.

Rafe leans in, pressing his forehead to yours, his breath warm against your skin. "Thank you," he whispers. "For everything."

You close your eyes, letting the moment settle around you. "I’ll always be here," you whisper back. "We’ve got this."

“I don’t think I would’ve made it this far without you.”

You swallow hard, trying not to let it hit you too deep. But it does. Because for all the mess you’ve been through—his ups and downs, his relapse, his constant fight to be better—it always comes back to you. To this.

“I’ll always have your back,” You remind him quietly. “You know that, right?”

He nods, like there’s absolutely no doubt in his mind. “I know. You’re really good with her," he says after a beat. "With Wheezie. And with Milo."

You smile, leaning back in your seat. "Yeah, well, someone’s gotta look after the kids, right? Might as well be me."

Rafe’s lips twitch into another smile as he leans over, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, "Thank you, baby.”

“For what?”

“For sticking around,” he says, pulling back slightly to look at you. “Even when I didn’t make it easy.”

 “You make it worth it, Rafe. You always have.”

Because seeing him like this—happy, strong, responsible, and healthy—it’s more than just him trying. It’s him becoming the person you always believed he could be, from day one on that stupid country club. And that? That’s something you’d stick around for any day.

When you and Rafe pull up to Tannyhill, the sun’s already setting. You grab your bag from the backseat, and he takes a deep breath, his hand hovering near yours like he needs to hold onto you just for a second longer. When you step into the house, you’re greeted by the usual stillness that fills the place. It’s huge, but it always feels too quiet.

Wheezie’s sitting at the kitchen island, hunched over her phone, clearly trying to distract herself. Her leg’s bouncing nervously under the stool, and you don’t even have to say anything to know that she’s been dreading this moment.

As soon as she sees the two of you, she freezes, eyes wide, "Hey," she greets, her voice shaky.

Rafe glances at you, and you give him a small nod. You know he’s trying to figure out how to handle this—he’s never really had to play the role of ‘responsible older brother’ before. But he’s doing it. He’s trying. And that’s what matters.

"Wheeze," Rafe starts, as he walks over to her, and you can see the panic rising in her eyes as she sits up straighter like she’s preparing for the worst. "Why didn’t you tell me?"

She bites her lip, glancing between the two of you. "I-I didn’t want to bother you," she mumbles, her voice small. "You’ve been dealing with a lot, and I thought— I don’t know. I thought I could handle it on my own."

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. He’s quiet for a second, and you can feel Wheezie’s anxiety practically buzzing out of her. She’s probably expecting him to yell, to go off on her, but instead, he takes a step forward and pulls her into a hug.

"You ever keep something like that from me again," he mutters into her hair, his tone firm but warm, "and you’re grounded."

Wheezie’s eyes go wide in shock, like she wasn’t expecting that at all. Her arms wrap around him a little awkwardly, but you can tell she’s relieved. She pulls back after a second, staring up at him with those big brown eyes of hers. "You’re not mad?"

Rafe shakes his head, but his expression is serious. "I’m not mad. I’m worried, Wheeze. I’m here, okay? I got you."

"I’m sorry," she whispers.

He sighs again, rubbing a hand over his face before looking at her. "Don’t be sorry. Just don’t do it again."

She nods quickly, and you step closer, offering her a small smile. "You’re not in trouble, Wheezie. I’m gonna help you with the math stuff, okay? I promise."

Wheezie looks over at you, clearly surprised, and then back at Rafe. "You’re… really not mad?"

Rafe rolls his eyes but in that big-brother way that’s full of affection.

"No, Wheeze, I’m not mad. But next time you’re struggling with something, tell me. That’s what I’m here for."

She nods, relief washing over her features. "Okay. I will."

Rafe reaches out and ruffles her hair, something so casual and brotherly it makes your heart swell.

"Good. Now go do whatever you do, and remember—grounded if you pull that shit again."

You slap his arm, “Will stop cursing in front of her?”

He shoots you a half-smirk, looking completely unbothered. "Please baby, she’s sixteen. You think she doesn’t curse?"

Wheezie lets out a small laugh, covering her mouth as if she’s trying to keep it together, but you can tell she’s relieved. 

"Yeah, but maybe not in front of her big brother," you tease, raising an eyebrow at him.

Rafe shrugs, looking like he couldn’t care less. "If she’s smart enough to hide it from me, more power to her."

Wheezie giggles again, and you can’t help but smile. "Yeah, yeah," you sigh, rolling your eyes at him playfully. "You’re a great role model, Rafe Cameron."

He groans, “Please don’t use the full name.” The corners of his mouth tug up in a grin that makes your heart skip. “Alright, no more big brother lectures tonight. We’re good, yeah, Wheeze?”

Wheezie nods, still smiling. “Yeah, we’re good.”

[mxltifxnd0m]

if meg! sam has no fans, it means im dead

(not my edit: creds to the owners)

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I drew my husband hihi he’s everything

[zoolitsky-fandom]

Whoaaaa another??? Zoro doodle page??? That’s unheard of… I’m literally so normal about him why would I do that…. ((lying))

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