Lover Of All Things Love

John Logan x OC

Go for Gold *part 2* ✨

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The steel doors of the rink clicked shut behind her, but the scent of her vanilla perfume lingered in the crisp, stagnant air. John Logan stood frozen on the ice, his fingers still wrapped tightly around the top of the dasher board.

Win your next game.

A slow, wry grin spread across his face, replacing the hard, bitter line that had been etched there all morning. The crushing weight in his chest—the suffocating jealousy of watching his best friend carelessly hold the girl Logan would have given everything for—felt strangely lighter. For the first time in weeks, his mind wasn't trapped in a loop of resentment. It was locked on a pair of white figure skates, a lilac water bottle, and a challenge.

Logan pushed off the boards, gliding backward into the center circle. He took a deep breath, letting the freezing rink air clear out the last of his mental fog.

“You’re fine until you hit the corner then you’re wandering and you’re letting the ice feel it.”

He dug his edges in, accelerating into a hard sprint. As he approached the dreaded right corner, he forced his posture down, keeping his center of gravity low and his left leg tucked tightly into his stride rather than overextending. He rounded the apex perfectly, carving a clean, sharp arc into the ice. No wall slamming. No stumbling. Just smooth, violent speed.

"Skate happy," he muttered to himself, a breathless laugh escaping him. "Right."

Three days later, the arena was electric. It was the Friday night rivalry game against State, and the stands were a sea of screaming students, pounding drums, and flashing lights.

Usually, Logan tuned it all out. Tonight, during warmups, his eyes kept wandering to the student section, then to the VIP bleachers, then to the entry tunnels. He didn't even know her name, let alone if she’d actually come. Part of him knew it was crazy—she was training for the Olympics, she probably didn't have time to watch a college hockey game. But another part of him remembered the soft, genuine look in her eyes when she told him to find something that was his.

"Hey, Logan! Heads up!"

Logan snapped his glove up, catching a stray puck before it beamed him in the visor. His best friend, garrett, skated up next to him, a grin plastered across his face.

"You're spaced out, man," Garrett said, shoving Logan’s shoulder playfully. "Gotta lock in. Hannah is in the stands tonight. I told her I’d bag a goal for her."

The mention of Hannahs name usually brought a bitter taste to Logan's mouth. Hannah, the brilliant, hardworking girl who shared his late-night study shifts. Hannah, who Garrett loved, and made that very clear of. But looking at Garrett now, Logan just felt a dull ache instead of sharp anger.

"Yeah," Logan said, tapping Miller’s shin guard with his stick. "Go get 'em, man."

The buzzer sounded. Warmups were over. It was game time.

The first two periods were a brutal, physical bloodbath. State was playing dirty, and the referee was letting a lot of it slide. By the middle of the third period, the score was knotted at 2-2. Logan's lungs burned, his muscles screamed, and he had a fresh bruise blooming on his ribs from a nasty check into the boards.

With less than two minutes on the clock, State dumped the puck deep into Logan's zone. He chased it down, pinning it against the boards. A State defenseman slammed into his back, trying to grind him down, but Logan planted his skates, channeling all the frustration of the past month into his legs. He didn't fight the ice; he used it.

He spun off the check, leaving the defenseman stumbling, and eyed the ice. Garrett was shouting, skating hard down the center lane, calling for the pass. It was the easy play. The expected play. Garrett would score, get the glory, and Hannah would cheer.

But then Logan saw a flash of pink in the lower bowl of the stands—just a fleeting glimpse of a tight, slick bun and a girl leaning over the glass.

Find something that's yours.

Logan didn't pass. He tucked the puck, put his head down, and exploded into a breakaway.

The crowd erupted. The State defenseman tried to catch him, but Logan’s edges were flawless. He cut inside, rounded the final corner with terrifying speed, and came face-to-face with the goalie. The goalie anticipated a shot to the upper glove side, leaning early. Logan feigned the shot, dragged the puck back across the crease on his backhand, and tucked it into the wide-open net just as he was taken down.

The red light flashed. The horn wailed. The arena shook.

Logan slid on his back into the boards, a breathless, euphoric roar ripping from his chest. His teammates swarmed him, piling on top in a chaotic, sweaty mass of joy. They had won. He had won it.

An hour later, the adrenaline had faded into a deep, satisfying ache. The locker room had emptied out, and Logan was one of the last to leave. He walked down the concrete tunnel toward the arena exit, his gear bag slung over one shoulder, his damp hair sticking to his forehead.

He pushed open the heavy exit doors leading to the back parking lot, the crisp night air hitting his face.

Sitting on a concrete parking barrier, swinging her flip-flop covered feet, was a girl in a massive, oversized university hoodie. His hoodie.

Logan stopped in his tracks, a smirk spreading across his face. "Is that my spare sweatshirt from the locker room bin?"

She looked up, her sparkling smile cutting through the dim parking lot lighting. "The equipment manager is a fan of mine. And I told you, I swim in these things." She pulled the sleeves over her hands to demonstrate. "Nice goal, John Logan. Your edges looked perfect."

"I had a good coach," he said, walking over and stopping a few feet away. He felt a sudden, fluttering nervousness in his stomach that had absolutely nothing to do with hockey. "So. I won the game."

"You did," she agreed softly, hopping down from the concrete barrier. She walked up to him, the top of her head barely reaching his chin. She reached into her pocket, pulled out a sharpie, and grabbed the strap of his hockey bag.

In neat, loopy handwriting, she wrote a name and a phone number on the canvas strap.

"Maya," she said, looking up at him through her eyelashes. "My name is Maya."

Logan looked from the strap back to her face, the last remnants of his second-place bitterness completely evaporating into the night. "Maya. You still leaving for Vancouver in two weeks?"

"I am," Maya smiled, stepping back toward a waiting car. "Which means you have exactly fourteen days to take me out and prove that hockey players can keep up with figure skaters."

Logan chuckled, his heart hammering against his ribs. "I think I can handle that."

"We'll see," she called out, sliding into the passenger seat of the car. "Call me, Logan!"

As the car pulled away, Logan stood in the quiet parking lot, looking down at the ink on his bag. He didn't care about the rich kids, he didn't care about second place, and for the first time in a long time, he wasn't mad. He had found something that was entirely his.

Fourteen days sounded like a luxury until the clock actually started ticking.

Between Maya’s grueling, twice-a-day Olympic training sessions and Logan’s rigid team practice schedule, their free time didn't just feel limited—it felt mathematically impossible. But Logan had never been more motivated to figure out a playbook.

By day four, they had established a rhythm of "stolen hours." Because Maya’s first ice block started at 5:00 AM, Logan started setting his alarm for 4:15 AM. He’d drive through the freezing dawn to the local diner, pick up a massive container of oatmeal with extra fruit for her and a greasy breakfast burrito for himself, and meet her in the rink parking lot just as the sun was starting to bleed a cold pink into the sky.

"You're insane," Maya murmured on Thursday morning. She was wrapped in a massive puffer jacket, her nose bright pink from the chill as she climbed into the passenger seat of his truck. "You don't even have practice until ten. Why are you awake?"

"Had to make sure you weren't letting the ice feel it," Logan teased, leaning across the center console to hand her the warm oatmeal.

Maya laughed, the sound bright and musical in the quiet cab. "I'll have you know my short program went perfectly yesterday. My triples are locked in."

"Yeah?" Logan leaned his head back against the headrest, just watching her. She had a smudge of ink on her thumb from studying a choreography notebook, and her hair was already pulled into that fiercely tight bun. He felt a strange, sudden tug in his chest. "Wish I could see it."

"No way." She pointed a plastic spoon at him threateningly. "No one watches the program until Vancouver. It's bad luck. Plus, I like that you only know me as the girl who sits on bleachers and judges your skating."

"I don't just know you as that," Logan said softly, his voice dropping an octave.

Maya paused, her spoon hovering halfway to her mouth. She looked up, her dark eyes searching his face. The playful banter evaporated, replaced by a sudden, heavy tension that made the truck feel incredibly small. Logan’s eyes drifted to her lips, then back up. He reached out, his large, calloused thumb gently brushing a stray speck of cinnamon from the corner of her mouth.

She caught her breath, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink that had nothing to do with the cold. Before either of them could cross the line, her phone buzzed with a piercing alarm. Time for off-ice warmups.

"Saved by the bell," she whispered, though her smile was a little breathless. She gathered her bag, throwing him one last, lingering look before stepping out into the cold. "See you tonight, Logan."

By the end of the week, the atmosphere in the hockey locker room had shifted.

Logan wasn't snapping at people anymore. He wasn't lingering at his locker, staring blankly at his phone, waiting for texts from Hannah that were never going to mean what he wanted them to mean. In fact, when Garrett leaned over during a film session to show him a photo of a restaurant Hannah wanted to go to, Logan just nodded and gave him a genuine recommendation.

"Man, whatever got into you, keep it up," Dean muttered, clashing their shoulders together as they hit the ice for practice. "You're playing like you've actually got blood in your veins again."

Logan just grinned, digging his edges into the ice. He felt fast. He felt light.

But the reality of the fourteen days hit him like a hard check on day ten. He was sitting in the training room getting his ribs taped when he looked up at the calendar on the wall. Four days left. Then she was boarding a flight to Canada, entering a bubble of international media, intense pressure, and a completely different world. A world he wasn't a part of.

That night, he took her out for their first official, proper date. No trucks, no parking lots. He borrowed a teammate’s decent car, made reservations at a quiet Italian spot outside the college town radius, and actually wore a collared shirt.

Maya showed up in a knitted white dress, her hair down for the first time since he'd met her. Soft, dark waves fell past her shoulders, making her look less like a fierce athlete and more like the kind of girl who could completely wreck a man's focus with a single glance.

"Wow," Logan breathed, holding the car door open for her.

"Do I look okay?" she asked, suddenly looking a little vulnerable as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I don't wear normal clothes very often."

"You look incredible, Maya."

The dinner was easy. They talked about her sister, about his chaotic family back home, about the grueling realities of maintaining a scholarship. They were both grinders; they both knew what it was like to feel like you were running on empty just to keep your spot at the table.

But as the waiter cleared the plates, a quiet settle fell over the table.

"Four days," Logan said, voicing the elephant in the room.

Maya traced the rim of her water glass, her eyes fixed on the moving water. "I know. The team coordinator sent over our itinerary today. Media training, drug testing, practice ice blocks... it’s going to be a circus."

"Are you scared?"

"Terrified," she admitted, looking up. There was a sudden glossiness in her eyes. "If I mess up, that's it. Four years of working until my toes bleed, gone in a four-minute program. And..." She paused, her voice cracking slightly. "And I just found something here that I really, really like. I don't want to lose it because I have to go be a robot in Vancouver."

Logan reached across the white tablecloth, wrapping his large hand completely over hers. Her fingers were small and cold, and he squeezed them gently.

"Hey. Look at me," Logan commanded softly. She did. "You're not going to lose anything. You're going to go to Vancouver, you're going to skate happy, and you're going to absolutely destroy the competition. And when you're done, I'm still going to be right here. Wearing a stupidly oversized jersey, watching your interviews on the locker room TV."

A tear slipped down her cheek, but a beautiful, relieved smile broke through it. "You promise?"

"I don't miss my targets anymore, Maya," Logan said, his thumb wiping the tear away. "I promise."

The departure gate at the airport was a chaotic mess of cameras, duffel bags, and matching team blazers. Logan stood a few yards back from the media line, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, watching Maya navigate the crowd. She looked tiny surrounded by the reporters, but her shoulders were back, her chin held high. She looked like an Olympian.

Just before she went through the security checkpoint, she turned around. She scanned the crowd, her eyes frantic until they locked onto his tall frame.

Breaking protocol, she dropped her carry-on bag and ran back toward him. Logan met her halfway, catching her as she launched herself into his arms. He lifted her easily, wrapping his arms around her waist, burying his face in the crook of her neck. She smelled like vanilla and winter air.

"Don't forget to watch the walls," she whispered into his ear, her hands gripping his shoulders tight.

"Don't overextend your left leg," he retorted, a breathless laugh catching in his throat.

She pulled back just enough to look at him, her hands moving to frame his jaw. Before he could say anything else, she leaned in and kissed him. It was soft, sweet, and tasted like a promise.

When she pulled away, her eyes were bright and determined. "See you in three weeks, John Logan."

"Go get your gold, Maya."

John Logan X OC (spicy oneshot 🔥

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The ice at the campus rink always smelled the same: a mix of frozen water, sweat, and the sharp, metallic tang of freshly sharpened skates. For three years, it had been my sanctuary. Tonight, it felt like an interrogation room.

I leaned against the plexiglass, chest heaving under my shoulder pads, watching the Zamboni smooth over the scars the team had left during practice. But my eyes kept drifting to the empty bleachers near the tunnel. That’s where Lucy used to sit, wrapped in an oversized university hoodie that swallowed her whole, holding a travel mug of hot cocoa she always complained was too sweet.

I had ruined that. I had ruined us.

Six months ago, I convinced myself I was doing the noble thing. Between the grueling Division I hockey schedule, the constant travel, my looming NHL draft prospects, and a heavy course load, I was drowning. Every time I looked at Lucy —with her grace, her Olympic aspirations, and her fiercely loyal heart—I just felt inadequate. She deserved a boyfriend who didn’t fall asleep mid-movie, who could show up to her early morning figure skating exhibitions, who didn’t bring the bruises and bad moods of a losing streak home with him.

So, I broke her heart. I told her she was better off without me. I told myself it was for her own good.

What a load of absolute horse shit.

"Hey, Logan! You planning on living on the ice, or are you hitting the showers?"

Coach’s voice boomed across the rink, snapping me out of the spiral. I waved a gloved hand in acknowledgment, skated hard toward the bench, and stepped off the ice.

The locker room was a chaotic mess of loud music, shouting, and the smell of damp gear. I unstrapped my helmet and dumped it into my locker, ignoring the banter around me. My hand instinctively reached into my bag for my phone. It was a habit I hadn’t been able to break.

I tapped open Instagram, and my stomach instantly dropped into a cold, hard knot.

It was a photo posted twenty minutes ago by Evan Campos, a guy on the track team. It was a group shot at the campus diner, but my eyes locked onto the center. There was Chloe. She was laughing, her head tilted back, her blonde curls bouncing. And Evan’s arm was draped casually, possessively, over the back of her booth.

The caption read: Victory pancakes with the best.

A hot, ugly wave of jealousy flared up in my chest, so sudden and sharp it stole my breath. My grip tightened on my phone until my knuckles turned white.

"Whoa, easy there, killer," Garret said, glancing over my shoulder. "You look like you're about to put your fist through a wall. Everything good?"

"Fine," I grunted, locking my phone and shoving it face-down on the bench.

It wasn't fine. It was the furthest thing from fine.

Seeing her smile wasn’t the problem; I wanted her to be happy. But seeing her smile because of someone else? It felt like a physical blow to the ribs. The agonizing truth hit me with the force of a blue-line body check: she was moving on. Because I had pushed her away.

She had begged me to stay. I could still hear her voice, cracked and trembling, in the parking lot of her apartment. “John, I don’t care about the schedule. I don’t care if we only get an hour a week. I’m in love with you. Let me decide what’s too much for me.”

But I had been too stubborn, too wrapped up in my own insecurity, to listen. I thought I was protecting her. In reality, I was just a coward who ran because I was terrified of failing her. And now, I was losing her for good.

"Hey, Logan, we're heading to the Pub. You coming?" Dean asked, throwing a duffel bag over his shoulder.

"No," I said, my voice sounding hollow even to my own ears. "I've got something I need to take care of."

I didn't bother waiting for a shower. I threw on a gray hoodie, grabbed my keys, and practically ran out of the arena. The crisp autumn air hit my face, but it did nothing to cool the panic clawing its way up my throat.

I loved her. I loved her more than the game, more than my next breath, more than anything in this chaotic world. I had let my own fear convince me I wasn't enough for her, but watching her slip through my fingers was a nightmare I couldn't survive.

If she was going to move on, she was going to have to do it knowing everything. She needed to know that I was an idiot, that I was miserable without her, and that I would spend every single day for the rest of my life trying to be the man she deserved.

I got into my truck, slammed the door, and started the engine. I didn't care if I was too late. I didn't care if I had to beg. I was going to get my girl back.

The drive to her apartment complex was a blur of red taillights and the rhythmic, mocking click of my turn signal. My hands gripped the steering wheel so tight they cramped, the phantom image of Evans arm around her shoulder burning behind my eyelids.

Let me decide what’s too much for me.

Her parting words echoed louder than the truck’s engine. She had given me her heart on a silver platter, and I had handed it back to her because I was too busy looking at the clock, measuring my own flaws, and deciding I knew what was best for her.

I parked the truck haphazardly in the visitor section, not giving a damn if I got towed. The night air was biting, smelling of fallen leaves and impending frost, but I was burning up under my hoodie. I took the stairs to the third floor two at a time, my hockey-battered knees protesting with every step.

When I reached door 3B, I froze.

The confidence that had propelled me out of the rink evaporated, replaced by a suffocating weight. What if Evan was in there? What if she looked at me and felt nothing but resentment? I had spent six months being a ghost in her life; I didn't exactly have the right to just haunt her doorstep.

Before I could talk myself into retreating, I knocked. Three heavy, desperate thuds.

Seconds ticked by. I could hear the faint murmur of a television inside, then the shuffle of footsteps. The deadbolt slid back with a metallic click that sounded like a starter pistol.

The door swung open.

Lucy stood there, framed by the warm light of her living room. She was wearing an oversized knit sweater—not mine, a gray one I didn't recognize—and her hair was up in a messy bun. She looked smaller without her skates on, but her green eyes were just as fierce as I remembered.

The faint smile on her lips vanished the moment she realized it was me.

"John?" her voice was a breathy whisper, laced with immediate caution. "What are you doing here?"

Seeing her up close, the urge to pull her into my arms was so violent it physically pained me. "Lucy. Hey." I cleared my throat, hating how rough and desperate I sounded. "Can I... can I come in? Just for five minutes. Please."

She hesitated, her gaze dropping to my damp hair and the team track pants I hadn't changed out of. She looked past me into the empty hallway, as if checking to see if this was some kind of joke.

"John, it's late. I have early ice time tomorrow—"

"I saw the picture," I blurted out. The words tumbled out before I could filter them, raw and ugly. "The one evan posted. At the diner."

Lucys expression shifted, her eyebrows drawing together. "Evan? From the track team?" A defensive wall immediately shot up, her posture straightening. "Are you seriously checking up on me? You don't get to do that anymore, John. You gave up that right in May."

"I know," I said, stepping closer, my hands coming up in a gesture of surrender. "I know I don't have the right. I know I’m the last person you want to see. But please, Lucy , just let me speak. Then, if you want me to leave, if you tell me you're happy and you want me gone, I swear to God I’ll walk away and never bother you again."

She searched my face, looking for the walls I usually kept bolted shut. Whatever she saw in my eyes made her sigh, her shoulders dropping. She stepped aside, leaving the door open.

I walked into the apartment. It still smelled like her—lavender and vanilla—but there were subtle changes. The framed photo of us at the winter formal that used to sit on the bookshelf was gone. It was just a blank space now. A physical manifestation of the void I’d left.

I turned to face her as she closed the door, keeping her distance by the kitchen island.

"I was a coward," I started, the words tearing at my throat. "Six months ago, I told myself I was protecting you. I looked at my schedule, my drafts, my bad days, and I decided I wasn't enough for you. I thought if I kept dragging you into my mess, I’d eventually ruin your skating, ruin your life."

Lucy crossed her arms, her jaw tight, but I could see the faint glint of tears starting to well in her eyes.

"But the truth is," I stepped toward her, the distance between us suddenly feeling like miles of open ice, "I was just terrified of failing you. I was so scared that one day you’d look at me and realize I wasn't worth the trouble, so I blew it up first. It was the most selfish, stupid thing I’ve ever done."

"John, stop," she whispered, her voice trembling.

"No, I need you to hear this. I saw that picture tonight, and the thought of another guy getting to hold you, getting to make you laugh, getting to be the one who cheers for you from the stands... it nearly killed me. I’ve spent half a year pretending I’m fine, burying myself in hockey, but I’m hollow without you. I love you, Lucy. I love you more than the game. More than anything. I never stopped."

A tear finally broke free, tracing a path down her cheek. She let out a sharp, ragged breath that sounded half like a laugh and half like a sob.

"You're an idiot," she said, her voice cracking.

"I know."

"You completely broke me," she stepped out from behind the island, her voice rising, raw with months of unexpressed anger and hurt. "I begged you, John. I told you I didn't care about the chaos. I wanted you. And you walked away because you thought you knew what I needed better than I did!"

"I know. I'm sorry. I'm so damn sorry." I was right in front of her now, close enough to feel the heat radiating off her, close enough to see the pulse fluttering in her neck. "I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you let me. I don't care if we only get an hour a week. I don't care if I have to stay up all night just to catch a glimpse of you. I'm all in, Lucy. Please."

She looked up at me, her green eyes searching mine, swimming with a brutal mix of love and hesitation. "Evan is just a friend, John. He was helping me study for finals."

A massive, pathetic wave of relief washed over me, but I didn't let it slow me down. "Good. Because I'm going to fight like hell to make sure he stays just a friend."

Slowly, terrifyingly, I reached out, my fingers brushing against the side of her face. She didn't pull away. She leaned into the touch, just a fraction, letting out a shaky breath.

"I'm still so mad at you," she whispered, though she wasn't backing down.

"Punishe me however you want," I murmured, my thumb wiping away the tear on her cheek. "Just don't make me leave."

Lucy looked at my lips, then back up to my eyes, the last of her defenses crumbling. "Don't you dare ever decide what's too much for me again."

"Never," I promised.

And then I bent down and closed the distance, kissing her with every ounce of regret, passion, and desperate love I had been starving myself of for six long months.

The moment my lips touched hers, the rest of the world ceased to exist.

Every agonizing second of the last six months dissolved into pure, unfiltered desperation. She tasted like the sweet cocoa she loved and everything I had spent half a year starving for. A ragged groan caught in my throat as I pulled her flush against me, my hands instantly tangling in her hair, losing the grip on her messy bun until her blonde curls cascaded over my fingers.

I kissed her like a man dying of thirst. I kissed her like my life depended on it—because it did.

“Lucy " I breathed against her lips, my voice a broken, reverent whisper. "My beautiful, perfect girl. God, I’m so sorry. I’m so damn sorry."

I peppered kisses over her mouth, her jaw, the sensitive spot right beneath her ear, making her gasp. She gripped the front of my hoodie, her fingers twisting into the fabric as if she was trying to anchor herself, her small frame trembling against mine.

"John—" she tried to speak, her voice breathless and trembling, but I couldn't let her go. Not yet.

"I've got you," I murmured, my hands moving down to cup her face with terrifying gentleness, treating her like the absolute goddess she was. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere ever again. Talk to me, sweetheart. Tell me everything. Scream at me, hit me, do whatever you need to do. I’m right here."

I slid my hands down to her waist, lifting her effortlessly to set her down on the edge of the kitchen island so we were eye-to-eye. I stepped between her thighs, crowding her space, completely consumed by the need to be as close to her as humanly possible. I was suffocating on my own love for her, an obsession that had been festering in the dark for six months and was now violently clawing its way to the surface.

"Look at me, Lucy," I pleaded, resting my forehead against hers. Our breaths hitched in unison. "Look at what an idiot I've been. I've been a ghost. I was dying without you."

She looked up, her green eyes wide, swimming with tears and a fierce, burning passion that matched my own. "You really left me, John," she whispered, a tear slipping down her cheek. "You made me feel like I wasn't worth fighting for."

The words cut deeper than any physical blow I’d ever taken on the ice. A wave of acute, physical pain hit my chest. Without thinking, I dropped to my knees right there between her legs, looking up at her like a sinner begging a deity for mercy.

"John, what are you doing?" she gasped, her hands immediately flying to my shoulders.

"Where I belong," I choked out, wrapping my arms tightly around her waist, pressing my face against her stomach. "I am on my knees for you, Lucy . I will stay here for the rest of my life if that’s what it takes. I am so deeply, thoroughly sorry. You are everything. Do you hear me? Everything. Every goal I scored, every second I spent on the ice, I was just thinking about coming home to you. I was toxic to myself, thinking I wasn't enough, but I am obsessed with making this right. I will spend every breath proving to you that you are the only thing that matters."

I looked up, placing my hands reverently on her knees, staring at her with total, unadulterated devotion. "You are the most graceful, incredible, brilliant thing in my world. I was blind. I was a coward. Please, sweetheart. Talk to me. Let me wash away every single tear I caused."

Chloe stared down at me, her chest heaving, her fingers trembling as she reached out and buried them in my damp hair. A beautiful, broken sob escaped her lips, but this time, she pulled upwards gently.

"Get up here," she cried softly. "John, get up here and hold me."

I scrambled up instantly, catching her as she threw her arms around my neck and wrapped her legs around my waist. I lifted her off the counter, holding her so tight I thought I might break her, but she only clung tighter, burying her face in the crook of my neck.

"I love you so much," she whispered into my skin, her tears hot against my neck. "I never stopped. I tried to move on, I tried to hate you, but it was always you."

"It’s only ever been you," I swore fiercely, kissing her temple, her cheek, her eyelids, entirely consumed by her. "I’m yours, Lucy. Completely ruined for anyone else. Destroyed by you. And I never want to recover."

I carried her out of the kitchen, never once breaking contact. It was like a physical law had rewritten itself in my brain: if I let go of her, I would stop breathing. I backed her toward the bedroom, my hands sliding down to grip the undersides of her thighs, keeping her locked around my waist while her fingers gripped my shoulders like a lifeline.

I laid her back onto the mattress, following her down instantly, my heavy frame hovering just enough to keep from crushing her. The room was dark, lit only by the amber glow of the streetlights filtering through the blinds, casting long, intimate shadows across the bed.

"Lucy," I breathed, the name a sacred vow against her skin. I kissed her jaw, my lips tracing down the elegant line of her neck to the collarbone peeking out of her oversized sweater. "My beautiful, perfect Lucy. God, you are so stunning."

She let out a soft, ragged sigh, her hands sliding into my hair, pulling me closer. But as I shifted to press my lips to hers again, she gently put a hand against my chest. Her green eyes were wide in the dim light, suddenly filled with a vulnerable, lingering ache that made my heart clamp tight.

"John, wait," she whispered, her chest heaving. "Before... before we go any further, I have to know. I need you to be completely honest with me."

"Anything, sweetheart," I murmured, kissing the palm of her hand before resting it against my cheek. "Anything you want."

Lucy swallowed hard, her gaze dropping to my chest for a second before forcing herself to look back into my eyes. "When you left in May... when you told me you weren't good enough and that the schedule was too much... I didn't believe you. Not entirely." A tear slipped from the corner of her eye, wetting the pillow beneath her. "I thought you were just using that as an excuse. I thought you had realized you were actually in love with Hannah."

The name hit me like a bucket of ice water.

"Hannah?" My voice cracked, total shock overriding the heat in my veins. "Lucy, no. Baby, look at me." I cupped her face in both of my hands, my thumbs wiping away the moisture on her cheeks, my gaze locking onto hers with absolute, terrifying intensity. "Look at my eyes. Are you kidding me? Hannah is nothing more than a friend to me. I have never, ever looked at her that way, since the moment I met you. Not for a single fraction of a second."

"But I know the feelings were there , John," Lucy whispered, her voice cracking with the ghost of a six-month-old heartbreak. "She’s always at the house, the bar, she goes to all the games. When you pushed me away, my mind went to the darkest place possible. I thought you were clearing space in your life for her because you finally realized she was the one you wanted. It broke me."

Hearing her say those words—knowing she had spent half a year carrying the crushing weight of thinking she was second best to anyone—provoked a violent, possessive roar in my chest.

"Listen to me very carefully," I growled softly, my voice dropping an octave, thick with an absolute obsession that I couldn't hide if I tried. "There is no one else. There has never been anyone else. Hannah is a friend. You are my entire goddamn universe."

I leaned down, pressing my lips to hers with a fierce, branding heat, pouring every ounce of my frustration, my apology, and my worship into the kiss until she was gasping for air.

"I don't look at Hannah and lose my mind," I whispered against her mouth, my hands sliding down her sides, mapping the curves of her waist through the thick knit of her sweater. "I don't lie awake at night staring at the ceiling, suffocating because I can't smell Hannah's skin. I don't go crazy with jealousy seeing another guy look at Hannah. I am ruined for anyone else because of you, Lucy. Only you."

I reached for the hem of her oversized sweater, my eyes asking for permission. Her breath hitched, her cheeks flushing a deep, beautiful crimson as she nodded.

Slowly, reverently, I lifted the sweater over her head and tossed it to the floor. She sat up slightly, suddenly self-conscious in just her lace bra, her gaze dropping.

"Don't you dare hide from me," I choked out, my voice thick with awe.

I caught her wrists, gently pinning them to the mattress above her head, leaning over her so she could see the sheer, unadulterated worship in my eyes. I let my gaze sweep over her—from the elegant slope of her shoulders to the soft curve of her hips. She was a masterpiece, built for the ice, but carved purely to destroy me.

"You are a goddess," I murmured, dropping my head to kiss the center of her chest, right above her racing heart. "Every inch of you is perfect. I am so sorry I ever let you doubt that. I'm sorry I let my own stupid head make you feel small. You are the only girl I see. The only girl I want."

"John..." she gasped, her fingers flexing against my grip, her back arching slightly as my mouth trailed lower, my tongue tasting the warm skin of her ribs.

"I'm obsessed with you, Lucy," I whispered, releasing her wrists only to slide my hands down her thighs, parting them so I could settle completely between them. The friction of our bodies, even through my track pants, was a exquisite torture. "I am going to spend the rest of the night making sure you forget any other name but mine. I’m going to love you until you know, without a shadow of a doubt, that you own me. Body and soul."

Lucy reached up, her hands finding the hem of my hoodie, tugging at it with a sudden, desperate urgency. "Take it off," she whimpered, her green eyes dark with a matching, fierce hunger. "I want to feel you. Please, John."

I pulled the hoodie over my head and flung it into the darkness, coming back down to her instantly, skin-to-skin, flesh-to-flesh, drowning in the absolute perfection of having my girl back in my arms.

The moment my bare chest pressed against hers, a shattered breath escaped her lips. The contrast of my heat against her skin made her shiver, her thighs tightening around my waist, pulling me into the cradle of her hips.

I was drowning. The scent of her—lavender, vanilla, and the intoxicating, warm musk of her skin—flooded my senses until my vision blurred at the edges. I couldn’t get close enough. I wanted to tear down the very walls of our skin and dissolve into her, to fuse us together so tightly that no doubt, no distance, and no other name could ever wedge between us again.

"Lucy," I groaned, the sound tearing from the deepest part of my chest. I buried my face in the crook of her neck, my teeth grazing the sensitive skin right where her shoulder met her throat, leaving a dark, possessive mark. "Tell me you feel me. Tell me you know it’s only you."

"I feel you, John," she cried out softly, her fingers clawing into the muscles of my back, her nails scratching desperate lines down my skin. "God, I feel you."

I slid my hands down to the clasp of her bra, releasing it with a practiced flick of my fingers, and then she was entirely bare beneath me. I sat back on my heels for a single, agonizing second, just to look at her. In the amber shadows of the bedroom, she looked like a vision. Her breasts rose and fell with her ragged breathing, her pale skin flushed, her green eyes dark and heavy with a raw, needy hunger that mirrored my own.

"You are so beautiful it hurts," I whispered, my voice shaking.

I reached down and stripped off the rest of our clothes, discarding the last barriers between us until we were completely exposed, vulnerable, and burning. When I came back over her, the slick, heavy heat of her body pressing against mine almost drove me over the edge right then.

I parted her legs wider, settling my weight between them. I was trembling. Me—the guy who took hits from two-hundred-pound defensemen without blinking—was shaking like a leaf because the girl in my arms held the entire blueprint to my soul.

I leaned down, hooking my arms under her knees, pulling them up toward my shoulders to open her completely to me. I pressed the head of my length against her, finding her drenched, hot, and trembling for me.

"Look at me, Lucy," I commanded, my voice dropping to a gravelly, fierce whisper. "Open your eyes. Look at me."

She forced her heavy eyelids open, her gaze locking onto mine. There was no hiding. No walls. Just the raw, terrifying truth of how much we belonged to each other.

"I am going to love you now, and it is going to be desperate, because I am desperate for you," I swore, my chest heaving against hers. "I am going to put myself so deep inside you that you’ll feel me in your bones tomorrow morning. You are mine, Lucy. You’re the only one. Say it."

"I'm yours," she whimpered, her hips tilting up instinctively, begging for the weight of me. "John, please. I'm yours."

With a slow, heavy thrust, I sank into her.

A high, shattered gasp broke from her lips as her eyes went wide, her fingers tightening into the flesh of my shoulders. The tight, scorching heat of her wrapped around me so perfectly it felt like a homecoming and an execution all at once. I groaned, a dark, primal sound, pausing for a fraction of a second as my mind reeled from the sheer perfection of it.

"God, Lucy... you're so tight. So perfect," I choked out, a bead of sweat dripping from my jaw onto her collarbone.

I began to move. Slowly at first, pulling almost all the way out before driving back in, bottoming out against her with a rhythmic, bruising intensity. Every thrust was an apology. Every slide of my skin against hers was a vow.

I am here. I am yours. No one else.

Lucy let out a ragged, breathless sob, her head tossing side to side on the pillow as the pleasure took over. She arched her back, meeting every heavy, desperate drive of my hips with a frantic urgency of her own. Her hands moved from my shoulders to my hair, pulling my face down to hers.

Our mouths clashed together in a messy, bruising kiss. I drank her cries straight from her throat, tasting her surrender, tasting her love. I was driving myself into her harder now, the pace turning frantic, fueled by the terrifying realization of how close I had come to losing this. To losing her.

"You're everything," I muttered against her lips, my movements turning fast and heavy, the slaps of our skin echoing in the quiet room. "I love you. I love you, Lucy. Tell me who you belong to."

"You," she gasped out, her voice breaking as her internal muscles clamped around me, pulsing tightly. She was close. I could feel the tremors starting deep inside her. "John... it's you. It's always been you."

That was my breaking point. Hearing my name on her lips as she fractured beneath me destroyed the last of my control.

I hooked my hands firmly under her hips, lifting her slightly to change the angle, and delivered three deep, relentless thrusts that buried me to the absolute hilt. Lucy let out a long, high cry, her entire body rigid as a violent, crushing climax overtook her, her warmth squeezing me with an impossible, beautiful pressure.

A second later, my own vision went entirely white.

I drove into her one last, desperate time, pouring myself into her as a fierce, heavy release ripped through my body. I groaned into her neck, my muscles locking up, completely spent, completely ruined, and utterly reborn in the warmth of her arms.

The aftermath of the storm was dead quiet, save for the ragged sound of our breathing.

I kept my weight shifted off her, propping myself up on my forearms, but I refused to move an inch out of her body. I couldn't. I was still buried deep inside her, anchored to the only piece of solid ground I had left in this world.

Lucy’s eyes were closed, her long lashes damp against her flushed cheeks, her chest rising and falling in rapid, shallow breaths. She looked so beautifully wrecked, completely undone by the weight of my desperation.

Slowly, her hands traveled up my chest, her palms resting over my racing heart. She opened her eyes, the vivid green clouded with a soft, post-climax haze, but as she looked up at me, a sudden, heavy gravity settled into her gaze.

"John," she whispered, her voice still raspy, a little tentative.

"I'm right here, sweetheart," I murmured, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss to the tip of her nose, then to her cheek, tasting the salt of her tears.

"Look at me," she said, her fingers digging slightly into my pectoral muscles. I locked my eyes onto hers, giving her my absolute, undivided attention. She swallowed hard, her throat bobbing. "Is this... is this really what you want? I need you to be completely sure. Because if you wake up tomorrow morning and the pressure gets to you again, or the draft gets too loud, and you decide you need to 'protect me' by walking away... I won't survive it a second time. I mean it, John. My heart can't take another break from you."

The words didn't just cut me; they tore straight through my chest and ripped my soul wide open.

A sudden, violent wave of emotion surged up my throat, so intense it caught me completely off guard. My vision blurred instantly. I tried to blink it back, but a hot tear slipped from my eye and splashed directly onto her collarbone.

"John?" she whispered, her expression melting into immediate concern, her hand moving up to cradle my jaw.

"I am so sorry," I choked out, my voice cracking, entirely stripped of the tough-guy athlete persona I wore for the rest of the world. I buried my face in the crook of her neck, my shoulders trembling as the absolute horror of what I had done to her fully hit me. "God, Lucy, I am so fucking sorry. Hearing you say that... knowing I put that fear in you... it kills me. I did that to you. The person who loves you more than life itself is the one who made you feel like you weren't safe."

"John, hey, look at me, it's okay—"

"No, it's not okay," I sobbed out softly against her skin, gripping her hips tighter, my knuckles turning white. I pulled back just enough to look at her through my tear-streaked vision, wanting her to see every ounce of my agonizing regret. "Listen to me. I swear to you on my life, on my soul, on everything I hold sacred: I am never going anywhere again. I don't give a shit about the NHL, I don't care about the schedule, I don't care if the entire world is screaming at me. None of it means anything if I don't have you to come home to."

A fierce, dark possessiveness reared its head in my chest, tightening my grip on her, locking her beneath me.

"You are mine, Lucy," I growled softly, the tears still leaking from my eyes but my voice hardening with absolute certainty. "I am never letting you go. If you try to run, I will follow you. If you try to push me away because you're mad at me, I will sit on your doorstep until you let me back in. You belong to me, and I belong to you. No one else gets to touch you. No one else gets to make you laugh. I am going to bind myself to you so tightly that you will never have to wonder where you stand again. I am staying right here. Forever."

Lucy stared up at me, her own eyes welling with fresh tears, but the uncertainty that had haunted her for six months was completely gone. In its place was a profound, beautiful peace.

"Good," she whispered, a soft, radiant smile finally breaking through her tears. She reached up, wrapping her arms securely around my neck, pulling my face back down to hers. "Because I'm never letting you go either, you idiot."

I kissed her then—not with the frantic, terrified desperation of a man trying to save himself, but with the deep, slow, reverent devotion of a man who had finally been allowed back into his sanctuary.

John Logan X OC (oneshot *spicy*)

✨✨✨✨

“What is your problem!” It’s mumbled over a mouthful of banana nut muffin. “If I’ve offended you in anyway please feel free to let me know, rather than sit in that dark ass corner, glaring at me for..” she peeks at her Apple Watch and returns her gaze to his face “32 minutes. And I’ve really tried to ignore it but I can’t go anywhere! My roommate is hooking up with half of the hockey team in our dorm room so I’m trapped at this over priced, stale muffin!” She flings the rest of the pastry in her hand towards him “coffee shop!”

He’s speechless truly. He’d been lost In his own head for the better part of an hour, thinking, moping. Not for one second had he considered that the murderous thoughts in his head might be playing out on his face. Assaulting innocent bystanders.

Cute, innocent bystanders. With really big, Bambi eyes and wild curls.

“I am so sorry.” The words tumble out carelessly. “This literally has nothing to do with you. I was sitting here being miserable and didn’t realize my face had caught on to my brain. I was in my own world.”

Her shoulders ease, tension seeping from her angry stance, and a bright sunny smile taking over her pretty face. “Oh thank god, because that was about all the bravado I had left in me! If you actually had a reason to be mad at me I might have just started crying!” She giggles, grabbing her backpack and coffee cup and coming to plop down directly across from him at his table. “So! What’s up buttercup? What’s got you so cranky?”

She’s like sunshine in a bottle, all warmth and ease and open energy. Something about her soothes him in the oddest way.

“You want me to spill my guts to a complete stranger? You know I could be a complete sociopath, based on previous introductions.” He leans forward, she smells like caramel and chocolate and her eyeliner has a little heart at the end.

“For sure, for sure. But what a story for me right? “Murdered on Campus” social work major fatally ended by curly haired hockey player John Logan .” Her eyes fall to his letterman jersey and she winks “they’ll make movies about us. So come on, unburden your load.”

When he hesitates she sighs and drops her chin to her open palm “okay I’ll start, you already know why I’m here. My roommate has decided that she would like to become the first singular woman to sleep with every player of every sport on this campus.” Her eyes roll playfully before she continues. “I’m here on scholarship , have absolutely zero athletic skill and was raised in Boston. I’m violently single because men find me overwhelming and overstimulating and that’s okay. When I graduate I want to get a really pretty apartment over looking the harbor and work with kids. I don’t know how to use a hammer and both of my parents are dead. So now we’re not strangers anymore.”

His stomach drops at the last sentence. Both parents gone? And she’s still able to float about the room with that warm sense of love and softness that usually faded away after grief.

“I’m sorry about your parents.” He offers, voice dropping low.

“It was before I started college. They were great and I’m lucky to have had them. Just because I got all intense doesn’t mean you get to skip over your part buster. Is it a hockey thing because while I’d love to help, I fear I don’t have the slightest clue how it works. Is it goals? Or touchdowns?”

He laughs, honest and real for the first time in weeks.

“It isn’t about hockey, so I think you’re safe.”

“Okay.” She tssks “so that narrows it down to school, girls, family or money. You look pretty smart so it can’t be school.” She teases. “Girls.” She decides “you’re having girl problems.” The pride on her face makes him smile despite the fact that she’s right.

“It’s not even a problem. I’m being a dick and a shitty friend and I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” All of these feelings and frustrations swirling around in his head are giving him whiplash. “I think I may have a crush on my bestfriends girlfriend.” It sounded even worse coming out of his mouth.

Oh, Logan," she murmured, her voice incredibly soft. "You must be carrying around so much heavy guilt. That sounds so lonely."

"I feel like a total monster," he admitted, staring down at his own plastic cup. "She’s just .. different , and every time the three of us hang out, I’m just... hyper-aware of her. I feel like I’m betraying him just by being in the same room."

She reached out, her fingers gently tapping the top of his hand just for a second—a warm, grounding touch that made a pleasant shiver run up his spine.

Hey. Look at me," she said, offering him a reassuring, sunny smile that felt like real sunlight breaking through a fog. "You are not a monster. Not even close."

Logan raised his eyes, caught by the absolute sincerity in her gaze.

"Human hearts are messy, Logan," she said gently, her voice full of comforting certainty. "You spend almost all your time with your friend. I’m sure his girlfriend is a wonderful person who is becoming a major part of your life, and she's kind to you. It is entirely natural and okay that your brain and your heart got a little confused. Proximity does that. Comfort does that. It’s just a feeling, and feelings aren't a crime."

"But he's my best friend," he whispered, though the suffocating weight in his chest was rapidly dissolving under her words.

"And you love him enough to feel terrible about a passing crush," she countered softly, her smile widening with immense warmth. "Have you tried to step on his toes? Have you tried to flirt with her or break them up?"

"No! Never. I want them to be happy. Honestly."

“Exactly," she said, nodding purely in approval. "Because you're a good guy. Give yourself some grace, Logan. Sometimes a crush isn't actually about the person. Sometimes it’s just your heart's way of saying it’s lonely, or that you’re ready for a connection of your own. It doesn’t mean you’re a bad friend. It just means you have a big heart, and right now, it’s just looking for a place to land."

Logan stared at her. He felt lighter than he had in months. The agonizing, sharp anxiety that had been clawing at his throat for weeks was entirely gone, replaced by a profound, sweeping sense of relief. She had looked at the darkest, most shameful secret he had, and she had wrapped it in complete understanding.

And suddenly, Logan realized he was looking at her differently.

Truly looking at her. He noticed the way the warm lighting of the cafe caught the richness in her eyes. He noticed the cute, joyful curve of her lips as she smiled at him, and the way her bright energy seemed to effortlessly fill up the space between them.

A strange, entirely new flutter bloomed in the pit of his stomach. It wasn't the heavy, anxious, guilty knot he felt around hannah. This was light. Sparky. Thrilling.

"Wow," Logan breathed, a genuine, easy smile breaking across his face for the first time all day. "You're... you're really amazing, you know that? I feel a million times better."

Her cheeks flushed a beautiful, soft pink, and her smile turned slightly shy but incredibly happy. "I'm really glad, Logan. Seriously. You deserve to feel good. You're carrying a lot on those hockey shoulders."

"Maybe I just need to come here more often," Logan said, his voice dropping an octave, a playful, confident spark lighting up his eyes as he leaned a little closer across the wood. "Though, I don't think I can keep calling it therapy."

Her laugh was a bright, melodic sound that made Logan’s heart do a spectacular, definitive flip.

For weeks, he’d been terrified that he was trapped in a hopeless, terrible love triangle. But looking at this girl right now, feeling the sudden, undeniable rush of warmth radiating from her, Logan realized his heart wasn't trapped at all. It had just been waiting for the right direction.

"Well, as much as I love being your personal life coach, duty calls," she said, her eyes twinkling with a silly, theatrical gravity. "The clock has struck nine , my roommate should be through with her extracurricular activities, and I have a date with a mountain of biology flashcards back at my dorm. If I don't memorize the phases of mitosis by tonight, my professor will literally feed me to the campus squirrels. I'm convinced of it."

it."

"The squirrels are ruthless this time of year," Logan agreed, a sharp pang of disappointment hitting him. He didn't want her to leave. Not yet. He had spent weeks wanting to escape his own head, but right now, hanging out with this gorgeous girl was the only place he wanted to be. "Are you sure you can't delay your date with science? I could protect you from the squirrels."

She laughed, picking up her backpack from behind the counter. "As tempting as a bodyguard sounds, I really have to—"

The loud, chaotic chime of the front door cut her off.

A wave of chilly air burst into the cafe, accompanied by the booming, unmistakable laughter of the hockey team. Logan froze as garret, Hannah , Dean, Tucker and three other guys from his line walked in, talking loudly about a missed play from practice.

"Yo, Logan!" Garrett shouted, spotting him immediately. "There you are! We went to your place and your truck was gone. What are you doing over here?"

The girl across from hims eyes went wide as saucers. Her gaze darted from Logan, to Garrett , and then straight to Hannah , who was walking hand-in-hand with Garrett, smiling and waving at Logan. The realization of exactly who had just walked into the shop hit her all at once.

Oh my gosh," she whispered, her face flushing as she frantically tried to shrink behind her backpack. "That's them. That's the best friend and the girlfriend. Okay, I'm just going to slip out the back door, crawl through the alley, and never be seen again."

She took a step backward, completely panicked and trying to play it off with a nervous, silly grimace, but Logan didn't let her.

Before she could retreat into the safety of the back room, Logan reached across the counter and gently caught her by the wrist. His hand was warm, his grip firm but incredibly soft.

"Hey," Logan said softly, ignoring the approach of his shouting teammates. He looked right at her, a quiet, steady intensity in his eyes that made her stop in her tracks. "Don't run away. Stay."

Logan, I'm wearing a shirt with a coffee stain and I know your deepest, darkest secret," she whispered frantically, though she didn't pull her wrist out of his grip.

"I don't care," Logan said, a genuine, completely unbothered grin spreading across his face. He gently pulled her just a fraction closer, his heart doing that light, sparky flip all over again. "They're gonna love you. And honestly? I'm not ready for you to go back to your dorm yet."

She looked at his hand on her wrist, then up at his face, her panic melting into a soft, dizzy smile. "You're terrible for my GPA, Logan."

"Hey, man!" Dean said, finally reaching the counter and clapping Logan on the back, entirely oblivious to the electricity crackling between his best friend and the girl who’s arm was being held. "Who's your friend?"

Logan didn't let go of her wrist as he turned to his team, a sudden, bright feeling of absolute certainty settling in his chest. He don’t know her name, fuck.

“I’m Harper. Harper Collins.”

“Hey, Harper," Hannah said warmly, offering a friendly wave. "Are you the one making sure Logan doesn't pass out from low blood sugar after practice?"

Before Harper could answer, Hudson—the team's notorious wingman and biggest flirt—stepped forward. His eyes locked onto Hannah, a slow, appreciative grin spreading across his face. "Well, hello there. How come Logan's been keeping you a secret? A girl like you shouldn't be hidden away in a coffee shop." Hudson leaned against the table, giving her his best charming smile. "I'm Hudson. If you ever get tired of dealing with him, I can show you around—"

Logan’s entire demeanor shifted in a heartbeat.

The easygoing grin vanished, replaced by the terrifying, dominant intensity he usually reserved for defending the crease. A low, protective growl practically hummed in his chest. Without a second thought, Logan stepped sideways, his massive frame completely cutting off Hudson’s line of sight to Harper. He tucked her firmly against his side, his arm wrapping around her waist, anchoring her against him.

"Back off, Hudson," Logan said, his voice flat, icy, and completely unyielding.

The entire group went dead silent. Garrett blinked in shock, and even Hudson took a step back, raising his hands in surrender, completely stunned by the sheer amount of possessive territory Logan was marking.

"Whoa, okay, man. Just saying hi," Hudson muttered, a nervous laugh escaping him.

Logan didn't look at him. He just tightened his arm around Harpers waist, feeling the way her small body fit perfectly against his. He looked down at her, his expression instantly melting back into something soft, though his eyes still burned with a fierce, possessive heat.

"You're not going back to your dorm alone," Logan murmured to her, completely ignoring his gaping friends. "You're staying with me. I'll help you study."

Harper looked up at him, her cheeks burning a bright, beautiful crimson, but her eyes were wide and happy, completely captivated by the protective wall he had just built around her. "You don't even know what mitosis is, Logan."

"I'll learn," he whispered, a small, possessive smirk finally breaking through as he pressed her just a little closer to his side. "Because you're not going anywhere."

Logan didn't care that his teammates were still staring at him like he’d just grown a second head. He didn't care that Garrett was subtly raising an eyebrow, or that Hannah was suppressing a highly amused smile. The only thing that mattered was the weight of Harper’s hand wrapped securely in his, and the way she hadn't tried to pull away from his side.

"We’re heading out," Logan announced to the group, his voice leaving absolutely no room for argument. He grabbed his cold brew with his free hand, keeping Harper tucked safely against his ribs as he guided her toward the exit.

"Uh, see ya at the house later, man?" Tucker called out, still looking bewildered.

"Yeah. Later," Logan muttered over his shoulder.

The moment the cafe door chimed shut behind them, the crisp evening air hit them. Logan immediately felt a flare of protective instinct, shifting his body to block the wind from hitting her. He looked down at her, his grip on her hand tightening just a fraction.

"My truck is right here," he said, his voice dropping into that quiet, steady register meant just for her. "Come home with me. Let me make you dinner, and you can lecture me about biology."

Harper looked up at him through her eyelashes, a small, breathless smile tugging at the corners of her lips. The initial panic of meeting his friends had faded, replaced by a soft, glowing warmth. "Are you always this bossy, Logan?"

"Only when it comes to things I don't want to lose," he admitted, entirely uncaring of how honest it sounded. He walked her over to the passenger side of his big black pickup, opening the door for her and handing her up into the cab like she was something fragile and incredibly precious.

The drive to the off-campus hockey house was short, filled with the soft hum of the radio and a strange, comfortable tension that seemed to vibrate between them. Every time Logan shifted gears, his knuckles brushed against her knee, and the spark in his stomach flared hotter, brighter, and entirely different from the anxious knots of his past.

When he pulled into the gravel driveway of the massive, slightly chaotic house he shared with Miller and two other guys, he turned off the engine and looked at her. "Just a warning. It’s a hockey house. It’s loud, there are probably three different video game tournaments happening upstairs, and the kitchen always smells slightly like protein powder."

"I think I can handle it," Harper chuckled, her hazel eyes dancing.

He led her inside, his hand firmly planted on the small of her back—a possessive, grounding touch that let anyone in the house know exactly who she was with. Luckily, the downstairs was uncharacteristically quiet, the rest of the guys either still out or buried in their own rooms.

Logan brought her down the hall to his bedroom. It was the largest room in the house, surprisingly clean, with a massive unmade bed, a heavy oak desk covered in playbooks, and a single armchair in the corner.

"Make yourself at home," Logan said, setting his keys on the dresser. "I can pull up a chair for your books, or we can use the bed—"

Before he could finish his sentence, Harper set her backpack down on the floor. She didn't look at the desk, and she didn't look at the chair. Instead, she took a deliberate step toward him, her usual silly, playful demeanor shifting into something entirely focused, intense, and incredibly confident.

"I don't think I want to study anymore, Logan," she whispered.

Logan’s breath hitched in his throat. He stood frozen as Harper closed the remaining distance between them. She reached up, her small, warm hands sliding up the rough fabric of his hoodie, resting flat against his chest. He could feel the rapid beat of her heart, matching the sudden, thundering rhythm of his own.

She leaned up on her tiptoes, her eyes locking onto his lips before rising to meet his gaze. "You spent all that time in the coffee shop telling me how heavy your heart felt," she murmured, her voice a beautiful, velvety purr that completely unraveled his control. "Let me help you forget about it."

Harper didn't wait for him to answer. She tilted her head and closed the gap, initiating a kiss that completely shattered whatever restraint Logan had left.

It wasn't a tentative, shy kiss. It was deep, warm, and full of an intoxicating certainty. The moment her soft lips pressed against his, Logan’s hands found her waist, his large fingers digging into her skin as he yanked her flush against his massive frame. A low, possessive groan rumbled in the back of his throat. He lifted her effortlessly, her feet leaving the ground as he carried her the two steps back to the bed, coming down over her with a protective, consuming gravity.

Every touch was electric. As Harper’s fingers tangled into his damp hair, pulling him closer, Logan realized with terrifying clarity that this was it.

He had spent weeks looking at Hannah, thinking he wanted a girl who understood the game, a girl who was convenient, a girl who belonged to someone else. But as Harper wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down into her warmth, he knew he had been completely wrong.

He didn't need someone who lived in his world; he needed someone who created a completely new one just for him. He needed this girl. This fiercely understanding, beautiful, silly, confident girl who looked at his flaws and made him feel like a king.

She was exactly what he had been looking for. And as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of vanilla and coffee beans, Logan knew with absolute, possessive certainty that he was never, ever letting her go.

The heat between them flared instantly, expanding to fill the quiet room until the rest of the chaotic hockey house faded into absolute nothingness.

Logan shifted his weight, pinning her gently into the mattress while his hands mapped the curves of her waist. He couldn't get close enough. The agonizing restraint he had practiced for weeks in his daily life dissolved completely under the touch of Harper’s hands, which were now frantically tugging at the hem of his heavy gray hoodie.

He pulled back just far enough to rip the shirt over his head and toss it blindly onto the floor. When he looked down at her, his eyes were dark with an intense, unyielding hunger. Harper’s breath hitched, her gaze tracing the broad line of his shoulders and the sharp definition of his chest, slick with a light sheen of sweat from the sheer heat radiating between them.

"You are so beautiful," Logan growled, his voice thick and rough. He leaned down, his mouth anchoring onto hers again, deeper this time, his tongue tangling with hers in a possessive rhythm that left them both breathless.

Harper let out a soft, helpless whimper against his lips—a sound that drove him straight over the edge. Her fingers dug into the muscles of his back, pulling him down, urging him to lose control. But Logan forced himself to slow down, his protective instincts warring with the fierce desire to claim her. He wanted to savor every single second of this.

He moved his lips from her mouth, tracing a path down the column of her neck, biting gently at the sensitive spot where her shoulder met her throat. Harper arched into the touch, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she murmured his name like a prayer.

His large hands slid down to the button of her jeans, his fingers steady despite the thunderous pounding of his heart. "Harper," he breathed against her skin, a quiet promise in his voice. "Tell me you want this. Tell me you're mine."

"I do," she whispered, her hazel eyes heavy and dark with a matching passion as she looked up at him. "I'm yours, Logan. Completely."

He stripped away the rest of their clothes with a frantic, breathless urgency, until there were no barriers left between them. The contrast of his massive, muscular frame over her softer, delicate curves made his possessive instincts flare hotter than ever. He braced his weight on his forearms, framing her face with his hands, his thumbs gently sweeping over her flushed cheeks.

When he finally slid inside her, the fit was so perfect, so intensely consuming, that Logan had to close his eyes and bury his face in her hair just to keep from unraveling completely. Harper let out a long, ragged sigh, her legs wrapping securely around his waist to pull him deeper, locking him into her warmth.

He began to move, a slow, deliberate, punishingly perfect rhythm that had them both clinging to each other for anchor. The scent of vanilla and sweet coffee beans filled his senses, completely wiping away the lingering shadows of his past mistakes. Every thrust was a declaration, a physical manifestation of the quiet certainty settling into his soul.

Harper's hands gripped his shoulders, her head tilting back into the pillow as the friction built, her quiet gasps turning into desperate murmurs. Logan watched her face, captivated by the raw emotion written across her features. He sped up, his movements becoming more dominant, more urgent, matching the frantic tightening of her body around him.

"Logan—" she gasped, her fingers anchoring into his hair as the tension broke over her in a wave of shivering, breathless pleasure.

Hearing his name on her lips as she crested the edge was the final breaking point for his control. Logan let out a low, guttural groan, driving into her one last time as his own release tore through him, a blinding, heavy rush that left him completely spent, collapsing his weight safely over her.

For a long time, the only sound in the room was the heavy, synchronized rhythm of their breathing. Logan kept his arms wrapped tightly around her, burying his face in her neck, holding her to his chest like she was the single most important thing in his world.

“Ah, right there.” Her soft fingers pluck a sequin right from his eyebrow. Her voice is hoarse when she laughs “next year I’m going as something with feathers.” She zips back up the sparkling mini skirt and adjusts the seashell crown on her mess of sex mussed curls.

“Mmm, sexy eagle.” His eyes trace the lean muscles of her back as she straps the glittery bra back on. She’s so breathtakingly gorgeous it’s hard to focus on anything other than smooth olive skin.

“Ooh sexy penguin.” She giggles leaning over his desk to swipe at her smudged makeup in the mirror “or maybe a sexy owl. I definitely give owl.” She turns back towards him and smirks at his sprawled figure. The blanket barely covering him as he shamelessly ogles her. The party downstairs is in full effect and the music from the speakers makes the ground vibrate. “Aren’t you going to go rejoin your brothers downstairs?”

He really doesn’t want too. What he wants to do is pull her right back into this bed, turn on Netflix and watch some mind numbing reality tv show with her tucked firmly against his body. He wants to bury his face in her cherry scented hair and lick the salt from her skin. He wants her to rub his back until he falls asleep wrapped up in her.

“Are you going back to the party?” He sits up then, stretching his sore limbs.

“Me?” She snorts “no sir, I’m going home and sleeping. You wore me out. Hannah and Ali are probably staying here with Garrett and Dean tonight so it’ll just be me in the dorm.”

That doesn’t sit well with him. Her alone never sits well with him but especially after tonight. Sex with her is always mind blowing, spiritually awakening, so violently satisfying he can’t think straight for days after. But the crash, the withdrawal he feels when she’s not there after. It’s brutal.

“I don’t want you all alone on Halloween. It’s not safe.” He reaches for his boxers and slips them on.

Her pretty eyes roll “Logan. I live two houses down from here. I’ll be okay. And what do you want me to do anyway? Hi Hannah, Allie. I need you to not stay with your boyfriends tonight and come home and hangout with me because it’s a spooky night.” Her eyes dart around the room for her purse.

“Stay here.” It’s out of his mouth before he can stop it. “Don’t go downstairs, fuck the party. Come back to bed and I’ll buy you breakfast in the morning, with coffee.”

Her eyes widen and she immediately crosses her arms over her chest, walls flying up.

“Logan..”

“What? You never stay. You leave every single time. Is it that bad?” It’s vulnerable and stupid. Clearly it’s not that bad, they’ve had sex too many times for it to not feel even the smallest bit as good as he feels.

“What?” She scrunches her nose and shakes her head “of course not! Why would you even…”

“And in public, you won’t even look at me. Do you know how badly I want to touch you when you’re standing there in your Malones uniform and I can see the outline of the hickey I left the night before. It’s almost painful to not be able to kiss you when I catch you staring at Hannah and Garrett or Allie and Dean. You think I don’t see it but I do. I see everything.”

“I’m sorry what are you talking about? Since when have you been feeling like this?” She throws her arms up, frustration seeping through her pores.

“Don’t try and pretend like you didnt know. I never hid how I felt about you. If I could worship you at your feet I would.” He scoffed.

“You’re the one who said you didn’t want me! You’re in love with Hannah Wells, I’m literally your rebound! I was doing you a favor! I’m taking what I can get while trying to make you feel better.” She rushes out, eyes misty and wide. “Okay, fuck.” She breathes “I’m sorry things are a little heated, we’re both tired it’s been a long night. I’ll talk to you tommorow, okay? Good night John.” She’s out of the door so fast he hardly has time to catch up to her as she races down the stairs and makes a beeline for the front door.

“You cannot just say shit like that and run off! Are you crazy.” He reaches for her arm and tugs her into him about half way down the street.

“Logan. Let’s just rehash this in the morning. I’m tired and I’m cold and I don’t feel like having this ridiculous conversation when I’m literally dressed like a mermaid and you’re… you’re in your boxers! Go home John, Jesus you’ll catch pneumonia out here.” She tried to rip her arm free but he only pulls her closer.

“What are you talking about “in love with Hannah?” Why would you say that I don’t want to be with you?” He’s pleading with her, lost and confused.

Her brows cinch together “you did. You literally texted me an hour after we slept together the first time.” She pulls out her phone and types something in, pulling up their texts from six months ago. “Here.”

Logan: hey, that was fun. I know you know about Hannah and that whole thing. Obviously I’m in no place for a relationship but you’re really great and I’d love to do it again.

That was six months ago, he was stroking a bruised ego and dealing with some internal shit. he never meant to make her feel unwanted or cheapen that night. That night was the best night of his life and he had just wanted her to hear it from him before someone ran their mouth about his stupid crush on Hannah and his fight with Garrett. Hannah was one of her best friends and he didn’t want whatever this was ruined before it could begin.

“I’m not mad but I am going to protect myself. I can sleep with you and it feels good. Being with you feels good, you make me feel good. But if I start spending the night or letting you kiss me in public. I’ll break my own heart. I have to protect myself heart because if I let you in I don’t know if I’ll survive it.” She clears her throat and offers him a miserable smile, “again, totally not your fault. I knew what I was getting into and I chose to do it. I know things are going to be weird with us now so I. Totally..”

“I’m in love with you.” He cut her off.

She snapped her jaw shut and bit down on her bottom lip. “What?” Her voice was small and unbelieving.

“I am in love with you. I have been since the first day. I never loved Hannah, I’ve only ever loved you. I had a crush on Hannah or atleast I thought. But really I just wanted to love someone the way Garrett loves Hannah. And I do. Fuck I love you more than anything.” He reached out a hand to cup her cheek “you’re everything.”

“You don’t have to say that.”

“Yes I do. And you love me, I feel it. I know you do.” It wasn’t cocky or over confident. He was secure in their connection and when she swallowed the lump in her throat and spoke so softly “I love you too.” He knew that this is what it’s supposed to feel like. This is exactly what he wanted.

“Come back home. Come lay in my bed and take off that ridiculous costume. Let me fill your water bottle and get you a clean t shirt. Let me take care of you and then let me keep you. Forever.” His lips hovered over hers and just as they were about to meet in the middle she pulled away and swerved around him.

“How about you let me take YOU home and get you a clean shirt. You’re out here in your boxers on a chilly October night. If anyone needs someone to take care of them it’s you,” she wrapped her hand around his and tugged him back towards the hockey house.

John Logan X OC *fanfic part 1*

Go for Gold

✨✨✨✨

“You’re skating mad. It’s making you miss your edges and overextend your left leg. It’s why you keep slamming into the wall. Why you can’t seem to stop when you round the corner right edge.” Her voice was soft and sweet. Quiet enough that he had to skate towards her to hear, but loud enough to make her presence known.

“I’m sorry?” Logan squinted. A figure skater. Incredibly petite, short and small wrapped up in a fluttering pink skirt and leotard combo, her skates hanging over her shoulder and a ribbon tied, slick tight bun completing the entire fit.

“You’re skating mad. You’re fine until you hit the corner then you’re wandering and you’re letting the ice feel it. The ice fights back and it trips you up.” She points towards the wall he just slammed into. “I do that sometimes too, I always end up twisted like a pretzel.”

“Okay.” She’s very pretty, soft and sweet and the kind of pretty you want tangled up in your sheets or wearing your sweatshirt. She would absolutely swim in his sweatshirt. “Am I impeding on your ice time? I’m sorry, I thought it was free.”

Her smile settles deep in his stomach. She reaches over the divider and pulls out a lilac water bottle the length of her forearm. “Nope. I’m all done for the day thank the lord. I just forgot this bad boy. I’m sorry to creep, I’m just so interested in hockey. I try and catch you guys practicing whenever I get a chance.”

He leans over the barrier, nodding at her shiny white skates. “You skate, obviously.”

“I’m part of the Olympic training program. I just made it to qualifiers. I leave in two weeks for Vancouver. Hence the blisters and the bruises.” She wiggles her flip flop covered feet and he can see the swelling in her feet less tights.

“Oh shit. You’re about to be in the Olympics?” His eyes trail her figure, all lean muscle and soft tan skin. She’s curvy but toned and the ridiculous urge to bite her perfect calves makes him shiver.

“Fingers crossed.” She plops down on the bleacher and drops her chin in her hand “so since you probably won’t see me again, wanna unload on me? Tell me why you’re skating like you’d rather be hitting someone.”

She’s not wrong, he’s so busy with semifinals and getting drafted and she’ll be a literal Olympic athlete. And how fucking good would it feel to just get it all out?

Fuck it.

“My best friend is dating the girl I like, and he doesn’t even know it. But this girl is really great and I love my bestfriend but he’s just not the dating kind and he doesn’t get her the way I do. She’s like me, on scholarship has to work and earn her place. He’s from a rich family, so life was just kind of given to him. I feel like everything is just given to him. I’m frustrated because I don’t know what I have to do to get something that I want. I want to not have to always be second place.” He rushes out, a weight slowly slips from his shoulders. The tension he felt on the ice replaced by relief. It’s gone; all of that bottled up anger is gone now. When he looks back he expects her to be laughing, or to be looking at him like he’s crazy.

But she’s not.

“I get that. Kind of the same but not. My sister doesn’t skate, she’s a sophomore here and she just goes to school and hangs out with her friends. I’m grateful for the opportunities and I love skating but I’m jealous of the way she just gets to… exist. And sometimes I just want to exist. I know I can’t have it but that feeling of wanting it gets to me some times. I’m jealous that she gets to have boyfriends, hell even friends. I want that too.” She sighs “but I guess we just have to want other things right? There are a million other things to want in the world. We just have to find something a little more… ours?” She shrugs, grabbing her skates again and peering over his shoulder “it was nice talking to you.. Logan?”

“John, it’s John Logan.”

“Well John Logan. Skate happy, watch the walls and find something that’s yours. Good luck.” She turns towards the exit and only turns back when he calls out for her.

“Hey! Future Olympian, you never told me your name!” It’s a little desperate by when she shoots him a sparkling smile he can’t help but return it.

“Win your next game and maybe I’ll tell you.”

Sugar In My Cup

Part 1

There’s frosting… everywhere.

Yellow and blue and pastel pink coating the tips of your hair and staining the white zip up hoodie you just splurged on.

“Oh.” You glance down at the sugary mess now coating your body.

“Holy fuck.” He’s a beautiful man, perfectly unkempt chocolate waves flowing exceptionally well, cropped to just the right length. His eyes match his hair in the deepest shade of auburn. “Oh shit.” Large hands flail haphazardly as he stares, those eyes locked in on the exposed skin of your chest now stained the color of an Easter egg. “I was in a rush! I’m so fucking sorry! Jesus Christ!” He picks up the abandoned cake tray between his two fingers and he looks so terrified it’s almost endearing.

You could really pull this one out, make him sweat, but he seems so nervous and genuinely apologetic you offer him a break. “ it’s okay. I was lacking color today. My own fault. You’re not supposed to wear white after Labor Day anyway.”

His jaw drops, and he stutters “the cake.. was that.. was that her birthday cake?”

He’s white as a sheet, clearly terrified that he’s ruined the whole birthday party. “No darlin’. That was just the tasting cake. I always bring an extra in case the family under estimated the amount of guests.” You point behind his shoulder to an elaborate three tiered multicolored fairy cake, with a larger than life number 1 taking up the top layer.

The handsome strangers shoulders finally ease slightly and he lets out a breath that rattles his chest.

“It’s my nieces first birthday. Her mother would have me executed if I ruined her birthday cake.” His polo is designer, stretching over muscled, tanned arms. His fingers fidget with the cake tray “but your clothes! Your hair! I’m so sorry. I came slamming out here like a matador and I’ve absolutely destroyed your clothes.”

“I think I’ll get over it. I have a tide stick in my car.” You offer your most laidback smile and wink at his stricken expression.

“Oh! Angel! What happened!”

“Oh god.” The man in front of you squeezes his eyes shut. “Here we go. Mama I’m…”

She pushes past him like a linebacker and he staggers back with a satisfying “oof.”

“What happened! Oh you’re going to attract the bees! Who did this to you?!” Maria Castillo whirls away from you and locks her gaze on the polo wearing nervous wreck “you!” She hisses “you did this! You clumsy oaf!” She swats at her son and he shuffles away.

“I apologized!” He defends, eyes softening when he finds you smiling “she said she has a tide stick!”

“A tide Stick?!?” Maria squeaks “she’s going to need a shower because of you.” Her soft, warm eyes turn to you then “oh angel” she coos “I am so sorry for my tactless son, harry.”

“Maria, it’s only sugar.” You swipe a piped flower off your collar and suck the frosting off your finger. When you look up Harry’s eyes are firmly following your lips, pupils blown out and cheeks pink. “I skipped breakfast this morning, anyway.”

“I’ll just go grab you a paper towel,Lovely girl.” The gorgeous matriarch rushes off towards the kitchen and you turn to Harry.

“So you’re the prodigal son. You’re mother has told me so much about you. I met Simon at the cake tasting for their wedding and I knew there was another brother I was missing. I have to say you certainly make a… colorful first expression.”

His eyes are heavy, lidded as he approaches you. Dangerously close. He smells lovely, masculine and fresh.

“You’ve heard of me? And what of me?” He can smell you as well, a lovely blend of cinnamon, buttercream and peaches. It makes his mouth water and his hands twitch at his sides in a desperate attempt to stop himself from touching you.

“Oh the usual. Wildly successful.” You start for the kitchen and he trails closely behind “loyal, kind and filthy rich.” You begin packing up your delivery bags and arranging the cupcakes and cookies on there trays. “Your sister In law only says wonderful things.” Your nose scrunches as you peel your sticky hair from your shoulders.

“Filthy rich?” He’s at your shoulder, and when you turn, he’s smiling. A real smile, one that makes your skin warm.

“Those were her exact words. Although she clarified you weren’t the stuffy kind of Rich. I can see that.” Your team is putting finishing touches on the birthday cake and sprinkling cupcakes.

“And you? You own a bakery. Supply my family with endless sweets. You’ve bewitched my mother.” He snatched a cookie from a tray and took a bite. It was phenomenal, soft and sweet with sea salt and chocolate. A stifled moan caught in his throat “and you bake the best chocolate chip cookies I have ever had.”

You snorted “well, Thankyou. I have a small bakery right near Albert’s street. We primarily do catering. Lots of weddings, baby showers..” you swished an arm out “first birthdays. I’m afraid I’m nothing like you and your business. We lose more money than we make. But we have a lot of fun losing it.”

“Money isnt everything, I’m learning that quickly.” His hand settles gently in the space between your collarbone and neck, rubbing at a splotch of baby blue icing. It’s weirdly sensual and when he pops his finger in his mouth it does things to you that you thought had long gone dormant. “I prefer quality over quantity. Let me make this up to you.” Harry gestures to your mess of clothes “let me take you out. A nice dinner, a new jacket.”

It’s smooth but you’re not naive enough to fall for smooth words and big brown eyes. “Wildly unnecessary. You’re apology is more than enough.”

His composure slips, the tick of a frown curls his lip down and the wrinkle between his brows deepens.

“I insist you let me take you out. My mother would never let me live this down. Really you would be doing me a massive favor.” His large hands fidget with the hem of his shirt.

It’s not fair if you to drag this out

“Listen.” You place a hand to his shoulder and squeeze “you seem wonderful and I appreciate how persistent you are but you and I are not two people that are compatible.” It’s quick but something noticeable flashes across his face, a phantom memory. “I would never be able to keep up with your lifestyle and I’m fairly certain you would tire of me rather quickly.” You step away and wipe your hands on your leggings “your shoes cost more than my mortgage.” The smile you give is soft and warm. “It was great finally meeting you though.”

Halfway to the door his voice stops you again.

“I don’t agree. I think you’re wrong.”

You peer over your shoulder smirking“I’m usually right about these things.”

“I don’t care about compatibility. I think you and I would have a really good time and I’m willing to make a bet.” He’s beside you now, fingers brushing yours. “If you go out with me. One date.” He holds up one finger “and you have a good time and get to know me, You have to go on another with me.”

“And if my hypothesis is correct and we truly have nothing in common?” You’re so close, noses almost brushing.

“I’ll have your bakery cater the next charity gala at my firm. An obscene amount or marketing options.” His brow raises. Confident now.

“Well.” You tap your chin “this date feels very transactional.”

“I’m playing my hand.”

A free meal with a handsome man? His Mercedes key half hangs from his pocket. He is from a completely different world. It would never work so what’s the harm. The catering opportunity would be life changing.

“You have a date then, Mr. Castillo.”

His eyes flash.

Stebbins x OC fanfic

“The Long Walk Series Part 1”

*******************************

There’s a tick to her back. The type that only comes from shifting on your feet too long, nothing a good stretch and a bubble bath won’t fix.

It was a miserable day for tips , the chef was in a rancid mood so food was being sent back more than it was coming out. The coffee maker was on the fritz and the rain was keeping customers from stopping in. Rent was due next week and if it kept going this way she wasn’t so sure she’d be able to pay the electric for the month. That was fine though, she had blankets and jackets to keep her warm, plenty of socks too. And it was warm during the day, no need for heat.

She was going to be just fine. Tips would pick up and everything would be back to normal by next month, the holidays were coming and people always felt awfully generous during that time.

The bell above the front door jingled, they were closed and she had her back turned toward the counter, filling the sugars.

“Sorry, love. We’re closed. I’ve got day old coffee and a sliver of blueberry pie left over on the counter. We closed the register so it’s on the house.”

“Harper.”

Her name, clear and soft. Barely audible over the pounding of the rain on the windows.

He was standing there, in the middle of the Diner. Hair soaked from the weather, his cheeks gaunt and the bags under his eyes seemed so dark they were almost purple. His paperboy hat was clutched between trembling fingers.

“Oh.” She whispered. Her heart picked up pace. He looked exhausted. Almost sickly. But he was here. He was alive. “You did it. You won.”

He raised blonde brows “you didn’t watch?”

“Only the first day. I had no desire to see you shot in the head. Stebbins right? That’s what they called you.” She crossed her arms over her chest, tucking into herself. Anxiety rocking her body. She’d grieved him already. Accepted the loss. But he was here.

“It’s all over the news.” His voice was hoarse. “The winner, he killed … the warden. My dad. But my dad… he didn’t let them shoot me. I suppose he thought it would redeeem him from all the evil. Saving his son.” He winced, disgust coloring his features “they were going to send me away. Have me sign something swearing I would never reveal what actually happened. But now they’re using me as a poster boy. “The real winner. The boy who survived the shot.” His laugh was bitter and there was a watery quality to it. “They fixed me up at the hospital. I was dying, my body was failing.”

She turned away then, focusing on the strawberry stain glaring at her from the counter.

“Yeah, we’ll you mentioned that was a possibility. You had it all planned out. I’m sorry you didn’t get your wish.” Her apron was filthy and suddenly it felt too tight. “I’m glad you won.” The smile on her face was so fake it was almost funny. “Your mother must be thrilled.”

His hand came over to rest on her forearm, turning him to her gently.

“Harp. Please. I didn’t do it for her.” He looks so damn tired.

“No.” She pulls herself free “you did it for a man who thinks shooting children in the head is for the good of the Country. That’s what you wanted isn’t it? Your Dads approval? Does it feel like you thought it would. I watched you that first day. Stepping over dead bodies? Taunting dying boys? I don’t know who that is. I don’t know you.” Her lip quivered and she watched his heart break in front of her eyes.

“No.” His voice was the firmest it has been since he walked through the door “No, you know me. I had to act like that to survive. I hated it. I hated every second of it.” His words shook under the weight of the confession. “I wanted you, I wanted you the entire time. I made a mistake. I was foolish and naive. I thought I could do this and it wouldn’t change me. It killed me. You were right. None of it was worth it. I lost so much.” Tears poured over his cheeks. He was so young. He looked so young. “They were good people. Good boys all of them.” He choked.

He was shaking but so was she. She had begged him, told him he couldn’t do this to them. Even if he survived he would never be the same. She couldn’t be with him if he chose this suicide mission. It wasn’t fair. He wasn’t being fair.

But he was here.

He was alive.

She wants to reach for him, pull him to her. But she can’t. Not yet.

“Did it hurt? Was it awful?” She whispered.

His eyes found hers then

“In every way.”

And that was it. She ran for him, wrapping herself around his body as he shattered, sliding them both to the floor. His sobs shook her entire frame as his fingers dug deep into her skin. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You were right. I watched them die. I watched them all.”

They stayed like that for hours, until his breathing calmed and his tremors faded. His hair was too long and his skin was sunburnt. He needed a good meal. He was partial to sugar and she was already planning the jelly cookies she’d spend days feeding him. Her whispered words of forgiveness melted into his skin and after a bit he was boneless in her grasp on the dirty Diner floor.

“It wasn’t supposed to be me. You didn’t watch, you didn’t see. I told them I was ready to die with my head held high. He thought he was saving me but he wasn’t. I don’t know my body anymore. Everything hurts. The doctors said I’m fine. They cleaned me out. They say the pain is mental but it feels like I’m still there. My feet… they feel like I’m still walking.”

“Hmm.” She brushed her fingers through his hair “I’ll walk with you. We’ll walk together. The two of us.”

Something like a memory flashed across his face before he settled into her hold even tighter.

*Worlds Apart - Eric X OC* part 3

***********************************

He could specifically remember NOT signing up for this particular tour. In fact he remembered threatening bodily harm to quite a few dauntless leaders who had mentioned touring Amity as part of the job.

“And this is where we provide most of the grains and sugar proteins you all use so frequently at dauntless” The broad shouldered woman who ran Amity supplied with a smile that looked like it may rip open her face. “We take such pride in being able to provide you all of the goods you use to protect us! I mean we even have a facility that produces gun powder, it’s phenomenal. Although I will admit that it has put us as the focal point of these terrible factionless attacks. Speaking of that, here is our hospital, it’s been getting more of a workout then it ever has theses past few weeks.”

Eric grit his teeth as he glanced over at Four trying not to laugh.

“Does this woman ever stop to breathe? She’s like a fucking helium balloon.” He growled. This time Four did laugh before putting his finger to his lips and rolling his eyes.

“Our hospital is one of our pride and joys. We even take care of our animals here! All of our nurses and doctors are certified in both.” Johanna beamed proudly.

“That doesn’t sound very sanitary.” Peter piped up from the back of the group, a look of disgust on his face.

“Seperate wings of course Mr. Hayes. You’ve had plenty of experiences of just how sanitary our hospital is just this week alone I’ve heard.” She quipped back sharply, a look of dissaproval on her sharp features as she eyed his bandaged leg and shoulder pointedly.

Eric snorted, okay maybe the amity leader wasn’t that bad.

“And here we have one of our most successful and respected nurses. This is nurse Violet! She’s a favorite in these parts.”

Erics stomach leapt to his throat, he hadn’t seen Violet in three days. Dinner had gone incredibly smoothly and she was an amazing cook but it had been filled with indiscernible tension between the two after their moment in the bedroom. He wouldn’t deny that he wanted her, she was gorgeous and soft and she smelt like sugar and her smile was like nothing he’d ever seen before.

Which was exactly why he couldn’t have her. He was an asshole, cruel and dark and while he had done a lot of terrible things in his life, destroying her wasn’t one he wanted to participate in.

She turned her attention to the group and he nearly groaned at her crimson painted lips and blonde hair swept up alluringly. She was criminal, truly. Four snorted from beside him, his all knowing smile earning him an elbow to the rib.

“Hi guys! I’ve had the pleasure of meeting most of you throughout the district but I’ll Thankyou again for all your work. I know it must be hard being away from home for so long, anything you need to make your stay a little easier you know where to find me.” She lifted her hand to wave, which held a stethoscope and an empty syringe. Her eyes locked on Eric’s and he couldn’t help but enjoy the way her cheeks flushed and her eyes darted away, And she grabbed her things rushing away with a mumble of an apology.

“It is unfortunate that you have to be away from home during the Easter holiday but we do have a wonderful celebration here and cannot wait to include you all in the festivities.” Johanna clapped her hands, eyes lit up in excitement.

Every single dauntless guard wore the same cringed, uncomfortable expression at the thought of an Easter celebration. Except for Four of course.

With the tour finally over Eric could feel his brain practically numbing at the thought of having to experience another three hour seminar by Johanna. He wandered through the fenced fields and ran his hand over one of the many horses mane, this particular one nuzzled into his palm and snorted affectionately.

“He likes you.”

The voice threw him for a moment before peering over his shoulder at the pretty blonde in her light pink scrubs.

“He’s huge.” Eric mumbled awkwardly, continuing to pet the horse and ignoring the tightness in his chest as she got closer.

“I know, no one ever realizes how large and intimidating they are until you’re up close and personal.” She stroked its thigh and their fingers grazed gently.

“He’s not scary.” Eric chuckled.

“We’ll I’m sure you’re used to scary.” She offered “to us here in Amity we don’t have to deal with the things you do. Anything unpredictable can be scary.”

“Not to you.” He turned to face her fully now “you don’t seem to be afraid.” He raised a pierced brow.

She sighed “unfortunately I know what real danger is, the Factionless don’t scare me. They’re just desperate, homeless, hungry, scared. It’s people who have a place that are the scary ones.”

Something in her eyes told him that she knew that from personal experience.

“The factionless will kill you without a second thought. You should fear them.” Eric warned.

“They say dauntless will too.” She shot back.

“It’s different.” Eric argued. He wouldn’t hurt her, there was no way he would, she had to know that.

“Everything is different Eric..” she sighed “I’ll see you at the Easter festival tommorow, be safe.” Her eyes were too sad for him to speak, he knew that look.

“Violet…” he started at her retreating back but she never turned around.

God he wasn’t going to able to stay away from her was he?

Detox *Harry x Allie -The Society Hallie Fanfiction-*

When the truth came out the town fell silent.

When the truth came out the town stayed silent.

She was innocent, three months locked away in a wine cellar, hungry and tired, her bones ached and she’d never felt so dirty in her entire life but she was innocent. They knew that know, the entire town had turned on her, cast her away for some semblance of justice. they wanted to be adults, all of them had wanted so desperately to prove that they could make hard decisions, lock their mistakes away and be a community but when the truth came out it became painstakingly evident that they were not adults.

They were children. Children who had made a mistake far too big to cover up with apologies and bandaids. Allie Pressman had been falsely accused and now she was broken and they had all taken a part of her when they turned their back on the one teenage girl who had pieced them all together when their world fell apart.

Elle had been the first to crack, three months into Allies prison sentence Elle stood centerstage in the green and spilled everything that had happened since the night of the poison pie to Campbell’s framing of the election night. She wasn’t afraid of him anymore, and when the broken ballerina spoke everyone listened. Clark went next rambling on about how Lexie offered him everything to go along with her plan, pills, food, power, he’d been blinded by It all and he couldn’t sleep at night because of the guilt.

Luke nearly cried, he hadn’t know it was all fake, he was naive and truly believed Lexie and Campbell and Harry.

Harry.

He didn’t speak, atleast that’s what Will said. He just stood there glassy eyed until he exploded pummeling Campbell until he was nothing but a puddle of blood and curse words.

But still, he never spoke.

It was a week after her release when she finally made her way through the streets of West Ham on her own, locking herself away in her bedroom was beginning to feel awfully similar to that wine cellar she had vowed to never go back in. It was brisk and slightly humid, her freshly washed hair curling from the top to bottom and a warm breeze fluttering her long lashes. The quiet gasps of her former peers didn’t go unnoticed but no one dared look her way, the guilt was prominent in the air and as she made her way to the cafeteria she almost felt like screaming.

Will was waiting for her by the front door, shaking his head and nodding towards Clark and the rest of the guard sitting at a table closest to the kitchen. She didn’t want to be around them, her captors, the guilt and pleading present in their eyes didn’t have any effect on her. Will attemptes to pass her a brown paper bag filled with food and squeezed her shoulder, kelly rushed at her and squeezed her arms around her middle.

“I missed you Allie Pressman.” She whispered, her voice choked with emotion. Kelly had believed in her all along, she’d sent notes every week telling her to hold on and that they would get her out, Will and her.

Allie squeezed Kelly gently, her body tense from the foreign sensation of her soft hug. It had been so long since anyone had touched her, held her. Scooping the bag up from the place Will had dropped it Allie ran through the cafeteria doors avoiding absolutely everyone with well placed rage and exhaustion simmering just at the edge of her frayed nerves.

She didn’t want anyone to miss her, it was better that they didn’t. She wanted to be dead to them all, no expectations or demands, no pathetic pleas for forgiveness. She was tired and finished and wanted nothing more than to disappear inside of herself and allow the town that had turned its back to her to run itself to the ground.

She wanted to sleep.

She wanted to forget.

Harry Bingham standing directly in the center of her kitchen looking like death warmed over was definitely not something she wanted. Something wasn’t right with him, he was pale and thin and the bags under his eyes were deep and swollen not to mention his chocolate curls were far too long and tangled. This wasn’t the Harry she knew, this Harry was small and scared and desperate and if she wasn’t so damn angry she would have said that no matter what he was still the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

“Get out of my house Harry.”

Allies words were hollow and whispered as she placed the paper bag on the counter and moved past him towards her room. She should have just stayed in bed, nothing good ever came from behind her bedroom door.

“I’m sorry. I fucked up Allie, I’m so sorry. You don’t know how fucking sorry I am.” His words trembled almost as much as his hands.

Allie turned around slowly, a tired smile on her face.

“You’re sorry? You’re sorry.” She laughed bitterly “you traded me in for power, you ran over me and you didn’t think twice about it. You’re sorry now because you lost, you’re Sorry because you have to see me everyday now. You’re not sorry Harry, you’re just scared.” She pushed her black beanie off of her head and ran a hand through her wild honey curls. The dried blood on her forehead was from tugging out the three month old stitches no one has bothered to Check on while she was imprisoned.

“You’re wrong.” Harry moved a step closer, his eyes desperate and oddly familiar “I mean you’re right I am scared. I’m terrified but I thought about what I did to you everyday, I never stopped thinking about it. I’m weak and pathetic and Campbell had drugs and I needed them, it’s not an excuse but it’s all I have. I never wanted to hurt you Allie. You we’re the last person I would have ever wanted to hurt but I did and I couldn’t see straight half the time, I’m detoxing. I’m trying and it’s hard and sometimes I want to die but not because of how bad it hurts and how bad I need them but because when my brains not clouded I can see what I did to you and it makes my heart burn. I deserve every bit of pain but I can’t take it back, I wish I could but I can’t.” Harry’s chin quivered with unshed tears as he balled and Unballed his fists, face wrecked with anxiety.

Detoxing, that made sense, he hadn’t been right for a long time, not since that night in his bedroom and the lonely depression spilling over his sheets. Of course it was Campbell, who else could cause this much hurt and pain?

“You should have told someone. You shouldn’t have gone through that alone.” Allie whispered “I could have helped you.”

“I didn’t want help. I wanted to be that person, I don’t want to anymore. I’m getting better, I’m trying too. I want you to see who I am when I’m not broken.” Harry nodded firmly, determination clear in his eyes.

As sincere as he looked right now she couldn’t find it in herself to trust him, she’d believed him before, forgiven him before.

“It seems like all you’re ever doing is apologizing to me.” Allie observed tiredly taking a seat on the couch and casually patting the available space beside her, she let her head hit the cushion of the couch.

Harry sat down slowly, his thigh pressing against hers.

“Because I keep fucking up with you. I keep making mistakes.” His tired eyes drooping shut in exhaustion.

“Understatement of the year.” Allie mumbled, moving closer and resting her cheek on his chest, his hands coming up to stroke her hair almost on instinct. It was quiet for a minute, neither of them daring to move until Harry whispered in that broken voice of his

“I’m so sorry pressman, so damn sorry.”

Allie squeezed her eyes shut and let herself inhale the traces of cologne lingering on the boys black cotton sweater.

“I know you are, I haven’t forgiven yet, but I know you are.” She whispered letting her fingers tangle with his and squeezing for longer than necessary.

It was gonna take time but she would forgive him, he was sick, he needed her and she needed him. It might take a while but

Worth It *Harry X Allie* The Society

“They were out of Strawberry pop tarts so I brought you a coffee cake instead, it should fill your sugar quota and incredibly unhealthy breakfast routine.” The light filtered into his room like water through a drain, Harry pressed his cheek into the wrinkled cool side of his pillow, his eyes squeezing shut as his dusty room filled with the sweet smell of allies vanilla and peach perfume.

“I even managed to nab an orange Gatorade instead of the yellow ones, they say Gatorade is good for you, electrolytes and all that.” The pretty blonde whispered under her breath, he could vaguely hear her picking up his dirty laundry and tossing old water bottles into the trash.

He was detoxing, the poison had left his body about a week ago and the overwhelming feeling of withdrawal was nothing but a quiet throbbing now. He still thought about the cocaine, the way it seemed to make everything just disappear and make his mind quiet for just a little, but he didn’t crave it as much anymore.

He craved other things though.

He missed his sister, her off key singing and polka dot bows lying around the house. He missed his mother’s meat loaf and the way she would iron his shirts and sew his jeans. He even missed kelly sometimes, she was the only person to ever really listen, to know him.

Except of course...

“Grizz says once you’re feeling better he thinks you should join the guard, people respect you ya know? I think you’d work much better in the kitchen, you looked awfully handsome in that hair net.” Allie teased, placing his breakfast on his night stand and twisting the cap off of his Gatorade.

She had been there from the start of his detox, the moment she found out he was struggling she had never left his side. She brought him every meal, made sure he showered, kept his room from becoming a dumpster and kept him informed on everything that was taking place just outside his window. He didn’t talk back much, just closed his eyes and listened to her even voices. She didn’t have to do any of this, lord knows he didn’t deserve it especially after casandra but she still did. She had so much on her plate and yet she still made time for him every damn day.

“alright Harry, I’ll see you at lunch time. Don’t forget to take those pills Gordie gave you they’ll ease up some of the aching.” Allie bent down to brush his unruly curls away from his eyes and that’s when he saw it.

“What the fuck?” His voice louder than it had been in weeks sent Allie stumbling back for a moment before straightening up, Her eyes lit up in concern as she reached for him.

Harry practically tumbled from the bed his hands reaching for allies face gently, thumbs stroking the bruised and swollen skin underneath her crystal eyes.

Understanding dawned on allies face

“Oh harry” she whispered, covering his hands with her own. “It’s okay, I’m okay.”

Something unfamiliar flashed in Harry’s eyes, his hands still cool on her cheeks

“Who? Who did this to you?” His voice level but furious as his eyes traced the bruise with calculated anger.

“It doesn’t matter.” Allie shook her head “I..”

“It does matter. It matters more than anything.” He cut her off, no room for argument.

Allie sighed “he was angry, I confronted him this morning and I guess he felt threatened. I haven’t told the guard yet but I’m sure they’ll handle it. Keep an eye on him.” She waved a hand in dismissal.

“Campbell.” Harry nodded firmly, moving to grab his jacket from the pile of clothes on the floor And heading towards the door. Allie tugged on his arm desperate to keep him in his room but she was no match for Harry not when he was like this.

He stormed through the town ignoring the looks on the Faces of his former classmates, no one had seen him outside of his home in weeks he was sure he was a sight to see unshaven and a mess but that didn’t matter, he had one destination and nothing was going to stop him.

“Harry please.” Allie trailed after him “he’s not worth it and you know it.” She babbled.

Campbell was on the green under the gazebo with Elle.

“No he’s not” Harry agreed “but you are.” And before she could even blink Harry was directly in front of Campbell, Elle must have sensed the anger raging off the boy because she stepped back and out of the gazebo. Campbell however seemed to be oblivious to the hate seeping through the other boys pores.

“Bingham! You’ve come out of your tower! If you’re looking for something you know you could have always called me. I don’t mind hand delivering it’s a part of my package.” He grinned.

The smile wiped off of his face as he lay flat on his back, blood pouring from his nose and spraying over his hands. There was a collective gasp from the entire town and as Luke scrambled forward to pull Harry back Campbell jumped up growling and hissing.

“What the fuck?!” He screamed

“You don’t touch Allie do you understand me?! You don’t look at her, walk by her, fuck don’t even breathe in her general direction! Do you understand me? I will Fucking kill you and that’s not a threat that’s a promise.” Harry’s voice was low and terrifying as he ripped himself free from Luke’s arms, Clark and Jason we’re pulling a cursing Campbell away and the entire town was speaking over each other.

Grizz was checking on Allies eye when Harry made his way back over.

“I’ll kill him before you do.” The normally friendly and sweet boy growled, slapping a hand on Harry’s shoulder before pressing a kiss to Allies cheek and moving to follow Clark and Jason.

Harry called after Grizz

“Hey!”

Grizz turned around with a raised eyebrow.

“What’s up?”

“I want in on the guard. I want to be a part of it.”

Both Grizz and Allie grinned at each other and Grizz nodded

“You got it.”

Harry turned back to Allie, his fingers brushing her swollen eye again. “I’m here now.” He whispered “were here now.”

Allie closed her eyes and pressed her cheek to his chest her arms wrapping around his waist.

Jacob Black x OC Fanfic chapter 2

Break Her.

Part 1:

https://everythingandeveryplace.tumblr.com/post/185702977637/twilight-au-chapter-1-break-her-emilys-hollow

“Ellie Parker.. um that’s my name. I was walking home from work, I work at the diner.. Forks Diner. I was on the night shift., ya know my car is old so I brought it to the shop and you wouldn’t believe how much it costs to fix the engine, that’s why I’m working the night shift.. it’s kind of like a series of unfortunate events.. ya know like the book?.. ouch.” Ellie rambled, wincing as Emily stitched up a particularly nasty gash on her forearm.

“So anyway, I was walking home and was taking a shortcut through the woods because it was dark and I didn’t wanna get run over on the street when I heard your friend cry out. I went to help and they attacked me, we managed to get them off but they were awfully close to eating us both. I was a little late for the big guy but I figure he’ll be alright, even half dead he managed to fight most of them off before they ran off, I just hit a few with a tree branch, don’t think it helped much.”

Jacob hovered, his fingers fidgeting desperately to touch her, to make her pain go away, scoop her up and take her away from this entire situation. Emily looked over her shoulder and waved Jacob away like a gnat, her face mixed with equal parts frustration and curiosity at his unsual behavior.

“Oh no sweetheart, you helped much more than you could even imagine. You brought my husband home, we’ll never be able to repay you, you put your self in danger for my family.” Emily placed a soothing hand on the tiny girls shoulder, her eyes shining with grateful tears.

“It was nothing.” Ellie mumbled, her eyes turning to meet jakes intense ones. She smiled softly before turning back to Emily “thanks for stitching me up, I oughta be going home, I’ve got a dog and I left him home alone all day, probably tore up my couch.” She chuckled.

Jared popped his head up from the couch and raised a brow

“You live on your own? How old are you anyway?”

The rest of the pack turned their attention to the brunette currently wiping her hands on her work uniform, smearing dirt all over the pastel blue dress.

“Im 19, I live right on the border of La Push and Forks. Tiny house in the woods, it’s yellow.” She shrugged smiling sweetly at the group of rowdy boys.

Paul who had seen the way Jacob had reacted to the girl grinned foolishly and nudged the taller boys shoulder.

“What a coincidence, Jake here is also 19! Isn’t that right Jake?”

Is possible jakes olive skin darkened to a warm pink as he stuttered

“I um.. yeah, I’m.. actually I’m gonna be 20 but now... I mean currently I’m 19. I mean obviously if I’m going to be 20 I’m 19 that was stupid, I don’t know why i even said that. I don’t know why I say half the things..” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

Ellie grinned

“I’ll be 20 too. You guys look much older, must be a wolf thing huh?”

Embry spit his soda from his mouth and Quill nearly choked on a handful of popcorn.

“What?!” Paul barked

“What are you talking about hun?” Emily moved forward slowly, her eyes wide.

Jared moved towards her but Jake was quicker, he rushed to her side and moved her behind his shoulder protectively, a low growl escaping his lips.

Jared stopped abruptly, his eyebrows scrunched together.

“I’m not gonna touch her dude, Jesus.”

“Jake.” Emily warned gently.

“I don’t mean any harm, it’s pretty hard to miss. I live in the woods, I see y’all nearly every night, you’ve got the reddish fur with the white tufts.” She pointed to Paul who didn’t respond, just stared with wide eyes. “ and you have grey fur, your tongues always out. The goofy one.” She nodded towards quill. “And you..” she smiled softly at Seth “the tiniest one, awfully cute if you don’t mind me saying.” Seth’s cheeks flamed bright red and he smiled bashfully.

Emily bit her lip

“I don’t understand..”

“You guys hang out outside my house all the time, don’t get wrong I was terrified at first but then I did some research. I know the stories and the legends, didn’t think it was real but I could tell from the moment I saw Sam.” Ellie shrugged, shifting on her feet, Jake could feel her breath on his back she was so close.

“and you’re not completely alarmed or concerned? Weirded out?” Embry questioned.

Ellie shrugged again

“I’m from Podunk down south, my moms brother married his sister and had 9 kids, nothing weirds me out anymore. Y’all haven’t done anything to make me worry, you do freak my dog out though.” She giggled. “I do have to go though, you let Sam know I hope he recovers quickly. It was nice meeting you all officially.” Her eyes twinkled adorably before her tiny white sneakers disappeared from the front door.

It was silent for a moment before Quill broke the air

“Damn she’s hot.”

“And cool.” Embry added

“And smart.” Seth beamed.

“And mine.” Jake turned towards his pack “Ellie is mine, you don’t touch her.” His tone was so severe and different than his normal, casual way of speaking that everyone stared dumbly at the serious boy in front of them.

Emily was the first to speak, her hands clapping together

“Oh my god! You’ve imprinted! I have to go tell Sam!” Emily practically sprinted from the room.

“Dude! Not fair, you got the hottest girl to ever step foot in La Push to be tied to you forever!” Embry slapped his shoulder

“The girl who just got attacked by vampires and is now walking the woods by herself.” Leah said dryly.

Break Her- Trailer

Twilight AU chapter 1.

Break Her.

Emilys hollow screams ripped through the Rez, gut wrenching and ear piercing as Jacobs bare feet pounded the soil, his hands ripping branches from trees in a desperate attempt to reach the small woman currently howling bloody murder. He’d been by the water, contemplating, thinking when he heard the petrified cry for help, it took all of half a minute for him to realize it was Emily which by default meant it was Sam.

By the time he reached the Uley household he was almost the last of the pack to arrive, Paul and Jared were crouched by her side attempting to sooth her as she writhed on the ground in pain. Quill and Embry were beside Billy shouting over each other and Leah and Seth had arrived at about the same time as he did, the Elders were scattered amongst the chaos, eyes closed and focusing on something Jacob couldn’t quite see.

“Sam! It’s Sam! Someone please.. please! Help him! Find him! I.. oh god..” Emily cried, her hands clutching her stomach as she moaned in pain.

The imprint.

Every ounce of pain that Sam Uley was currently feeling was being played out right in front of them in his imprint, the only difference was Sams tolerance was much higher while Emily was small and possessed none of the wolf blood that was clearly keeping Sam going.

Billy spoke up from his place onthe porch

“He’s in the woods, you’ll have to go find him, take the entire pack, whatever is out there.. whatever’s doing this to him.. I want you all to be as careful as you can.. the danger that lurks..”

Jacob reached to pull his shirt from his body to phase before Seth ran in front of him

“Wait!” He called “look there.. I smell him! That’s Sam!”

A shadowy figure came forward from the trees, far too small to be Sam but Seth was right Jacob could smell Sam too.

“Stop right there.” Jacob barked “don’t move.” Embry and Quill had already phased and Jacob vaguely registered them growling from behind him.

A tiny blood spattered hand reached out from the row of pine trees

“I have..” it was a female and her voice was shaking “I have your friend.. I found your friend. You need to help him... please.”

Sure enough a beaten and bloody Sam was gently pushed from within the shadow of the woods by the tiny woman.

“They were.. they were going to eat him, I saw them..I just.. I can go.”

“No! No please!” Emily sobbed, still weak but regaining her Strength as Leah helped her stand. Paul rushed to Sams side and hoisted him over the shoulder and into the house followed by the elders as they rushed to heal him. “Come inside! Please please come inside!”

“I.. I can’t.” The fragile voice whispered.

Seth, who had been slowly making his way towards the woman in the woods, reached a hand out towards her before turning back to the pack

“She’s hurt. She’s bleeding” He whispered.

“I’m okay.. I’m.. I’m okay.” She spoke a bit louder now, more determined. Jacob could practically hear the fire and strong will in her tone.

“Darling, we have a nurse. We would all feel better if you came inside, let us take a look at you. Please.” Billy wheeled himself beside Jacob.

There was a moment of hesitation, she didn’t move from her spot hidden amongst the trees. Finally though,after what felt like hours she emerged from the woods.

And when she did.

Jacob Blacks world completely stopped.

His head went blurry and he stumbled backwards, light filtering through his eyes as the bloody brunette with the big brown eyes became the only thing he could see. She was beautiful and small and brave and she was his, all his. No one could take her away from him, she would never want for anything and she would be safe at all times. He wanted to scoop her up And hold her to his chest, never let go, take away the fear and pain in her eyes.

Imprint.

He had just imprinted on the one girl who had saved the Alpha of his pack.

Daryl Dixon x OC

All I’ve Ever Known

She's a fighter.

A warrior.

A survivor.

She's also alone.

When the world stopped turning and the dead started living 24 year old Ellie Mitchell was left to make it through the carnage and destruction entirely on her own. It's been 2 years and Ellies never needed anything from anyone, when she finds 10 year old Sophia Pelletier hiding from walkers behind an old oak tree she knows that she has to help this little girl find her way home. She didn't expect to join forces with a one handed redneck and she especially didn't expect to fall for his handsome and incredibly protective baby brother.

Life has a way of showing you exactly what you've always needed.

I got these gifs off of We Heart It, please let me know if they belong to you!

Finding Family Part 2

•Daryl Dixon x OFC•

Everyone had been set up in guest rooms for their overnight stay at Georgetown  and after an incredibly tense meeting the future of trade between Alexandria and the prospering community still remained undecided.

"They're gonna say no. Not a chance in hell we're getting even a taste of this shit." Abraham sighed, his head resting against the LaZ boy recliner  in Ricks room for the night.

"We don't know that." Michonne argued.

"Sure we do, y'all saw the way they looked at the girl. I hurt their people bad, no way any of us are gonna be welcomed here after today." Merle chuckled dryly, he was trying to hide the guilt and disappointment he felt in himself and had Daryl not known him his entire life he might have mistaken it for carelessness.

"We should have left him at home. What good ever comes from bringing Merle Dixon anywhere?" Glenn grumbled and Maggie pat his thigh comfortingly.

"Michonnes right, We don't know yet. these people are very reasonable, I've spoken to them, they know me and besides Lily would never leave us out to dry. She isn't like that." Rick nodded firmly.

"That was before we turned our backs on her and let Merle stay after everything that happened. We betrayed that girl, if I was her I wouldn't give us a damn thing." Carol was perched on the edge of the bed, her eyes sad and slightly angry as she regarded Merle. The older woman's gaze wandered over to Daryl for just a split second and the underlying disappointment in the clear blue made his stomach hurt, he stood up and grabbed his crossbow from the floor.

"Goin for a walk." He grumbled, Merle stood to follow but Daryl was quick to turn to him and shake his head "alone." He bit out.

The halls of the community center at Georgetown we're huge, over 20 rooms on each floor. Charlie had explained that the community center was where most of the residents who didn't have family lived, they were single rooms and it provided a sense of family in one large building for the residents who preferred not to be alone in their own home. It also was the same building as the mess hall, and that's exactly where he heard the familiar voice he had missed and replayed over and over on his head for two full years.

"Thanks Nellie, you're our new best friend forever. We will remember this moment for when grey carries on my iconic legacy. you will have a special page in my autobiography." Lili backed out of the kitchen, the beautiful baby boy wrapped up in her arms and a pint of vanilla ice cream in his.

"It's just because I love you both." A grey haired  woman in an apron shooed them out of the kitchen and winked, blowing a kiss at the curly haired little boy waving back at her.

"And we love you." Lili turned back towards the cafeteria and the smile she had been wearing slipped from her features when her eyes met Daryl's.

God it hurt.

Swallowing thickly he willed his feet to march over to the two, awkwardly rubbing his neck when he was close enough.

"I was just checking the place out. S'nice." He mumbled, eyes involuntarily falling on the little boy with the the sandy blonde curls staring up at him.

"Yeah. We have a really great system going here. Good people too." Greyson wiggled in her arms and Lili looked down "words." She smiled softly, urging him to speak gently.

"Down." He whispered "pease." His smile was wide and goofy and so damn adorable it almost physically hurt Daryl.

Lili beamed with pride

"You got it love." She gently placed him on the floor and peeled the top of the container off, sticking a metal spoon in the sweet vanilla ice cream and ruffling his hair.

Daryl watched in wonder as Greyson lifted himself onto a cafeteria bench and began taking tiny but determined bites of the sugary dessert.

"He's a smart kid. Little to be doin' all that aint' he?"

Daryl turned his attention back to Lili who was smiling in complete adoration at the boy with the matching eyes.

"Grey is very advanced, we have a former pediatrician who works in our infirmary and she says she's never seen someone his age  grasp language skills quite as fast as Greyson." She finally pulled her eyes away from her son and looked at Daryl, he could practically see the pride in her smile.

"Gets it from you. Ya always we're good at talkin'"

For a moment when her blue eyes sparkle and her nose scrunches up, Daryl's taken back to five years ago stranded in that damn lake with an arrow through his side and a pretty blonde woman dragging him through the mud and asking "where in the holy hot hell" did he come from.

"That's about all he gets from me except the hair, I carried him around for nine months only for him to come out a splitting image of his father." She laughed quietly.

"Got my nose.. and my mamas eyes." Daryl whispered as they both stared at Greyson.

"And your lips. Not to mention he catches the Georgia sun like you wouldn't believe, five minutes outside and he's golden brown, just like you." She smiled.

"Got your hankerin' for the sweets though." Daryl offered chuckling when Greyson sent a spoonful of vanilla halfway across the room.

"And your tendency to leave a mess." Lili raised a brow and pulled a rag from her pocket, wiping the melted ice cream off of her sons cheeks.

"Beautiful though. Real beautiful." He whispered, his palms itched to touch his son, to see if he was real, if this was something that he had helped to create. There was no way any Dixon could ever make something so beautiful and perfect.

"Still carrying' around that crossbow huh?" Lili nodded towards his practically third arm.

"Sure am. Never gettin' rid of her." He wiggled his eyebrows and smirked.

"Don't I know it." The beautiful blonde smiled fondly at the weapon that had saved her life more times than she could count "I'm still sticking to my knives, although I don't get out much to use em. I stay inside the walls mainly, take care of the sick and injured."

"Sounds nice, ya were meant for that. Made to help people." Daryl clarified, tracing her features with his eyes, memorizing every new scar and freckle, every laugh line, the last time he had seen her she had been bruised and swollen beyond recognition. The image of Dwight carrying her near lifeless body out of the saviors compound was forever burned in his mind.

"Sometimes I miss it out there, the adrenaline, the chase." Lili sighed before shaking her head and smiling at her son "but I can't take risks like that anymore, not unless I have too. Grey needs his mom. last week I went on a run because we needed specific medications and I left him with Dwight for two days, I came back covered in walker blood and Greyson just threw himself at me. I had to give him two baths just to get all that funk out of his hair." She giggled, scrunching her nose at the memory.

"He's a good boy." Daryl caught her sea green eyes and stared longingly at the woman he loved more than anything in this world.

"The best." She nodded, a sadness filtering across her face.

"Miss you every damn day." Daryl whispered, the words heart breakingly honest.

"You made a choice." Lili whispered back, wrapping her arms around her body tight, shielding herself from the one person who could ever truly hurt her.

"It was the wrong choice, I know that now," his voice broke, shadowed eyes dark and lost.

"It's too late now. You can't take it back.. you made your choice, you chose him."

"He's my brother." Daryl begged, he needed her to understand, no matter how impossible it was and how wrong it was he wanted her to understand.

"He's a monster." Lilis eyes filled with tears that she desperately tried to blink back "the things he did to me.. I can't.. when he was strangling me.. breaking my ribs all I could think about was getting back to you. I thought I was going to die and I didn't want to do that to you, I wanted to live for you. And then I came back to you, I fought for you only for you to allow that man back in our home, to sleep on the same floor as I did, to eat where I ate."

If it was possible Daryl could feel his heart cracking in his chest, the pain almost unbearable.

"I loved you with everything I had and I fought for you, I would have done anything for you and you gave up on me. You traded me in for your brother." She whispered, her voice far away.

"He's my family Lili." It sounded pathetic even to his own ears.

"And he's mine." Lili raised her voice, throwing her hand out to the little boy who was now curiously listening to the conversation and smiling up at the two adults as they turned to look at him.

"He's mine too." Daryl tried.

The woman before him narrowed her eyes and shook her head

"No.. no he isn't. You gave that claim up the second you let me walk out the doors of Alexandria. You made a decision, I told you when I left that there was no coming back from it and I meant that. Merle is your family. Greyson is mine."

"Lil please, I have too..."

"You're all going to be able to trade here, I told Charlie that you were all good people, that the past was the past and it had nothing to do with helping your people. You'll get what you need and then you can go, I don't want you bringing that man back to my home. By the time I put Greyson to sleep tomorrow I want to forget you both were ever here." With that Lili picked up Greyson and walked straight out of the mess hall doors leaving a broken hearted Daryl Dixon staring after the love of his life and their son.

It couldn't end like this.