Apple Of His Eye - Part 2

Apple of His Eye - Part 2

The morning sun had barely started to climb into the sky when you arrived at your bakery, a spring in your step as you prepared for another day of sweet treats and smiles. But the moment you turned the corner and saw the front of your shop, your heart dropped into your stomach.

The large front window of your bakery was shattered, glass littering the sidewalk and your display cases. The once inviting entrance now looked like a crime scene, and the beautiful pastries you’d worked so hard to perfect were now covered in a fine layer of glass dust. You stood there in shock, unable to move as the weight of it all came crashing down on you.

Who would do this? And why?

You sank to your knees, your hands trembling as you tried to piece together what had happened. Thoughts raced through your mind—how were you going to afford to fix this? Could you even open the bakery today? Your customers, your regulars, they all depended on you. And what about Logan? He’d come in expecting his pie, and now you couldn’t even offer him that.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you thought about the costs of repairing the window. You had already poured everything into this little bakery, scraping by to make it a success. The idea of paying for a new window was almost too much to bear.

As you sat there, lost in your despair, you didn’t notice Logan approaching. He had been on his way to the bakery, the promise of a fresh apple pie and your bright smile drawing him like it did every morning. But when he saw the broken window, his heart clenched with a mixture of anger and concern.

“Hey,” Logan’s rough voice broke through your haze, pulling you out of your thoughts. You looked up to see him standing there, his brow furrowed, his fists clenched at his sides.

“Logan,” you whispered, your voice shaky as you tried to blink back the tears. “I don’t know what to do…”

He didn’t say anything at first, his gaze sweeping over the shattered glass, the ruined pastries, the look of sheer devastation on your face. His jaw tightened, and you could see the anger simmering just beneath the surface.

“Who did this?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

“I-I don’t know,” you stammered, wiping at your eyes. “I just got here and… I can’t afford to fix it. I don’t know what I’m going to do…”

Logan’s expression softened at your words, the anger giving way to something else—something protective. He knelt beside you, reaching out to gently take your hand in his. “You’re not gonna deal with this alone,” he said firmly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a rare show of tenderness. “I’ll take care of it.”

“But Logan—”

“No buts,” he cut you off, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You go home, get some rest. I’ll handle it.”

You looked into his eyes, seeing the steely resolve there, and despite your anxiety, you felt a small glimmer of hope. Logan had always been a force of nature—unmovable, unstoppable. If anyone could help, it was him.

Reluctantly, you nodded, allowing him to help you to your feet. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Logan just grunted, giving your hand a final squeeze before letting it go. “Go on,” he said, his gaze flickering back to the broken window. “I’ll take care of everything.”

You gave him one last grateful look before heading home, the weight of the morning’s events still pressing down on you, but with the faintest sense of relief. Logan was here, and somehow, you knew he’d find a way to make it right.

Later that evening, long after you had gone home, Logan sat at the bar with his “brothers,” the same crew that had teased him mercilessly about his feelings for you. But tonight, there was no joking around. They could tell by the look in Logan’s eyes that this was serious.

“Someone smashed up the bakery,” Logan growled, his voice low and dangerous. “I want it fixed by tomorrow morning.”

The bikers exchanged glances, each one of them nodding in understanding. They might have been a rough bunch, but they looked out for their own—and Logan, despite his gruff exterior, had made it clear that you were important to him.

“We’ll handle it,” one of the bikers said, cracking his knuckles. “We know a guy who can get the glass replaced tonight, no questions asked.”

Logan gave a curt nod. “Good. And find out who did it,” he added, his voice dropping to an even darker tone. “I want to have a word with them.”

The men nodded again, a ripple of agreement passing through the group. Logan didn’t need to say anything more. They knew what he meant, and they weren’t about to let anyone get away with hurting someone he cared about.

As the night went on, the bikers got to work. They called in a favor with a friend who specialized in emergency repairs, and within a few hours, the shattered window was replaced, the broken glass swept up, and the bakery was restored to its former glory. It was as if nothing had happened.

Meanwhile, Logan had been tracking down the culprit, following the trail of whispers and rumors that circulated in the darker corners of the city. It didn’t take long to find out who had done it—some local thug trying to extort protection money from small businesses in the area.

Logan found him in a back alley, and what followed was quick and brutal. By the time Logan was done, the thug was left bruised and bloody on the ground, a clear message delivered: No one messed with the people Logan cared about. Ever.

The next morning, you arrived at the bakery, dreading the sight of the shattered window. But when you turned the corner, your breath caught in your throat. The window was fixed. There was no glass on the ground, no sign of the damage that had been there the day before.

You stood there in shock, trying to process what you were seeing. How could this have been fixed so quickly? And by who?

Then, you noticed something else—a familiar scent wafting through the air. You hurried inside, your heart pounding, and saw a single apple pie sitting on the counter, still warm from the oven. Next to it was a small note, written in Logan’s unmistakable scrawl:

“Everything’s taken care of. See you soon.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you clutched the note to your chest. Logan had done this. He had made everything right, just as he had promised.

A few hours later, when Logan walked through the door, you didn’t say anything. Instead, you just smiled at him, the warmth in your gaze saying more than words ever could.

Logan gave you a small nod, his usual gruffness in place, but there was a softness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. He took his coffee and his pie, the morning ritual restored, but as he turned to leave, you reached out and gently touched his arm.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice full of emotion.

Logan paused, looking down at you. For a moment, he seemed like he was going to say something, but then he just nodded again, a rare, almost shy smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Anytime,” he said simply, and with that, he walked out of the bakery, the door jingling behind him.

But as he rode off into the morning, the taste of your apple pie still fresh on his tongue, Logan couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, there was more to life than leather jackets and cold nights on the road. There was warmth here, in your bakery, in the way you looked at him, and he found himself wanting to protect it, no matter what.

heard you were looking for some ideas for Logan! What about Logan with a significant other that’s basically an oujia board? Like they can talk to dead people, maybe possess people or haunt their dreams? How did they meet Logan, and how did they end up with him, and most importantly what does wade think of their relationship?

I am sorry this one is Longgg

Between Two Worlds

The Encounter

The bar was dimly lit, the low hum of conversations mixing with the clinking of glasses and the occasional burst of laughter. Logan sat at the far end, nursing a whiskey, his gaze distant. He had just finished a mission, and all he wanted was some peace—a rare commodity in his life. The last thing he expected was to meet someone who would change everything.

But then you walked in.

You weren’t like anyone else in the bar. You moved with a calmness that seemed out of place in a place like this, your presence both ethereal and unsettling. Logan noticed the way people gave you a wide berth, as if instinctively sensing something otherworldly about you. You weren’t particularly intimidating, but there was an air of mystery surrounding you—a vibe that made people uncomfortable. But not Logan. He was more intrigued than anything.

You sat down at the bar, a few stools away from him, and ordered a drink. The bartender handed you a glass of something dark, but your eyes weren’t on the drink; they were on Logan.

“You’ve got a lot of ghosts around you,” you said, your voice soft, almost like a whisper.

Logan stiffened slightly. “Do I know you?”

“Not yet,” you replied, a small smile playing on your lips. “But I know you.”

He eyed you warily, sizing you up. “And how’s that?”

You took a sip of your drink, your gaze never leaving his. “I can see them—hear them. The dead. And you, Logan, have a lot of them following you.”

Logan’s grip on his glass tightened, but he didn’t move. He’d seen and heard a lot of strange things in his life, and he wasn’t easily shaken. “You got a name?”

“Y/N,” you said, extending your hand.

He hesitated, then took it. The moment your hands touched, a strange sensation washed over him. It wasn’t pain, but it wasn’t entirely pleasant either—like a cold breeze brushing against his soul. He let go quickly, his eyes narrowing. “What are you?”

You smiled again, but this time it was a little sad. “I’m just someone who can talk to the dead. Sometimes they talk through me, sometimes they use me to do things, but mostly, they just want to be heard.”

Logan took another drink, considering your words. “Sounds like a rough gig.”

“It can be,” you admitted. “But it’s my life. I help them find peace—or vengeance, depending on what they need.”

He respected that. There was something undeniably compelling about you, something that pulled him in despite the warning bells going off in his head. Maybe it was the loneliness he sensed in you, a loneliness that mirrored his own. Whatever it was, Logan couldn’t help but feel a connection to you.

You spent the rest of the evening talking. There was an easy understanding between you, a mutual respect for the darkness in each other’s lives. When the night was over, Logan offered to walk you home, and you accepted. He didn’t know it at the time, but that was the beginning of something neither of you could have predicted.

Weeks turned into months, and what started as a strange, tentative friendship quickly grew into something more. Logan found himself drawn to you in ways he couldn’t explain. You were an enigma, someone who lived between worlds, yet grounded enough to keep him from losing himself in his own darkness.

You moved into Logan’s cabin, a secluded place where you both could escape the chaos of the world. It wasn’t exactly peaceful—Logan’s past and your connection to the dead made sure of that—but it was home.

One night, as you lay in bed together, you stirred awake. Logan could feel it—the change in the air, the subtle shift in your body temperature. He opened his eyes to see you sitting up, staring at something in the corner of the room.

“Who is it this time?” Logan asked, his voice rough with sleep.

“There’s a woman here,” you said, your voice distant. “She’s…angry. Betrayed. She was killed by someone she trusted.”

Logan sighed, sitting up beside you. He was used to this by now. “What does she want?”

You turned to him, your eyes reflecting the sadness and fury of the spirit inside you. “Vengeance. She wants him to suffer like she did.”

Logan could see the strain this was putting on you. “You don’t have to do this tonight. You can tell her to wait.”

You shook your head. “She won’t wait. This is her only chance.”

Without another word, you got out of bed and began to dress, your movements slow and deliberate. Logan knew better than to try and stop you. He’d seen what happened when you resisted the spirits—it wasn’t pretty.

“I’ll come with you,” he said, pulling on his jeans and boots.

You nodded, grateful for his support. Logan’s presence had a way of grounding you, of keeping you tethered to the living world when the dead threatened to pull you under.

As you both headed out into the night, Logan couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different this time. The spirit inside you was more powerful than the others, more determined. He could feel it in the air, a malevolence that made his skin crawl.

The spirit led you to an old, run-down house on the outskirts of town. Logan followed closely behind, his senses on high alert. You walked up to the front door and knocked, your hand trembling slightly.

The door opened, revealing a man in his late forties, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Who the hell are you?”

“She knows what you did,” you said, your voice filled with the rage of the spirit within you. “And she’s here to make you pay.”

Logan watched as the man’s face paled, his eyes widening in fear. “No… It can’t be…”

Before Logan could react, you lunged forward, your hand wrapping around the man’s throat. The spirit’s fury flowed through you, making you stronger than you should have been, your grip like iron.

Logan moved quickly, pulling you back before you could do any real damage. “That’s enough, Y/N!”

The man collapsed to the floor, gasping for air, while you struggled against Logan’s hold, the spirit’s anger overwhelming you.

“He deserves to die!” you screamed, your voice no longer your own.

Logan held you tightly, his voice firm but gentle. “This isn’t you, Y/N. You’re stronger than this. Don’t let her control you.”

For a moment, it seemed like the spirit would win, that it would consume you completely. But then, with a shuddering breath, you managed to regain control, the spirit’s presence slowly fading as you collapsed against Logan, exhausted.

The man on the floor was sobbing, babbling apologies that fell on deaf ears. Logan looked down at him with disgust. “Get out of town. If I see you again, you won’t be so lucky.”

The man scrambled to his feet and ran, disappearing into the night.

Logan turned his attention back to you, his hand gently cupping your face. “You okay?”

You nodded weakly, leaning into his touch. “Yeah… I’m okay.”

He sighed in relief, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Let’s get you home.”

Life with you was never boring, and Logan wouldn’t have had it any other way. But when Wade found out about your abilities, things got a little more…interesting.

“Hold up,” Wade said, leaning back in his chair, Mary Puppins perched on his lap. “You’re telling me your significant other is basically a walking, talking Ouija board?”

Logan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Something like that.”

Wade’s eyes lit up with mischief. “That is so badass! Do you do parties? Can you, like, summon Elvis or something? Wait, don’t answer that—I have a list of people I want to talk to, starting with—”

“Wade,” Logan growled, cutting him off. “It’s not a party trick.”

Wade pouted. “You’re no fun. But seriously, that’s gotta be weird, right? I mean, what happens if they get mad? Do you end up like one of those possessed dolls from horror movies?”

You chuckled, leaning against Logan. “It’s not quite that dramatic, but it can get intense. I try to keep them under control.”

“Still, sounds like a hell of a time,” Wade said, clearly fascinated. “You ever, uh, use your abilities on Logan here? Like, freak him out in the middle of the night?”

You smiled mischievously, glancing at Logan. “Maybe once or twice.”

Logan shot you a look but didn’t say anything. Wade burst out laughing. “Oh man, I wish I could’ve seen that! Logan, scared out of his mind—priceless!”

Logan rolled his eyes, pulling you closer. “I wasn’t scared.”

“Sure, sure,” Wade said, waving his hand dismissively. “But for real, you two are like the weirdest couple I’ve ever seen. And coming from me, that’s saying something. But you know what? I think it works. You balance each other out. Plus, if anyone ever pisses you off, you can just send them a nice little nightmare. That’s a win in my book.”

You and Logan exchanged a glance, both of you smiling. Wade might be a pain, but he wasn’t wrong.

Geralt of Rivia x Child!Reader

Geralt of Rivia x Child!Reader

Part1

Masterlist

Summary: What happens when a certain witcher save you from an awful future to become a slave for the Nifgaard realm? Follow the journey of you and the white-haired witcher adventures,  blossoming a beautiful relationship between father and daughter. (Yeah… I know that the summary is bad 😂 Sorry)

Warnings: Angst, a little bit of blood

Words: 1,600

A/n: So, i notice that isn´t many fanfics of Geralt being a cute dad so i thought of doing one! The reader is 5 years old. I might do a part 2 to this.

Screams. That´s all you could hear around you. Tears were running down your soft cheeks freely as you see the destruction around yourself. Seeing houses being burnt to the ground, men being slaughter and women trying to comfort their children before the black ones could kill them.  

Kneeling down, you put your small hands on the cold body before you. “M..Mommy?…Mommy wake up…” your voice comes out tiny as you try to shake your mother´s corpse, your vision was becoming more and more blurry by the fat tears running out of your big e/c eyes. “P..Please Mommy!” you stutter quietly, your lower lip trembling from fear and heartbreak.  

Suddenly a strong hand grabs your h/c hair and pull you forcibly, making you scream in pain. “What do we have here? A little pig?” one of the soldiers that were attacking your village said with an evil laugh.  

You put your small hands on his and try to kick him away from you, pleading from him to let you go but that only made them laugh even more. One of the soldiers went to you grab your soaked cheeks tightly, forcing you to look to his wicked eyes. “You would do a perfect slave…maybe when you´re older, you could bring some pleasure to us,” he said with a disgusting smirk on his rough lips. The other two men agreed but the fourth man didn´t say anything, only stay there with a painful look on his pale face. You notice blood running down his mouth and small gasp leaving his mouth. Of a sudden the man falls down to the floor and a large figure stood behind him, with a bloody sword on his hand.  

“What the fuck!” the man that was holding whisper as he saw the golden eyes of the stranger glowing in the dark, glaring dangerously to the three men.  

The other two men run to the golden eye man, clashing their swords with his but they were not good as the large man, who kill them with one single blow, cutting their heads with his shining sword.  

Your eyes shut close as a wave of blood cover your tiny body, making you gasp as you feel the warm red liquid on your s/c skin.  

The man that was holding your hair, screamed and throw you to the hard ground. You fell on the floor with a hard crash and your breath got caught on your throat a little. The soldier starts running away, screaming ´mutant´ but his alarmed voice was changed by a gurgling squeal as the golden eye man throws his sword, piercing his throat.  

You stay still on the cold floor, curl in a small ball beside your mother. Sobbing into your mother’s cold neck.  

After a while, you feel a warm hand stroking gently your back. Lifting slowly your head, your teary eyes met golden ones, full of concern. “Are you okay, child?” his rich deep voice envelopes you in warmth and safeness.  

You nod slowly and look down, pointing to the corpse beside you. “Mommy doesn´t wake up!” you sob quietly. The stranger lets out a sigh and nods, putting his warm hand on your bloody cheeks, cleaning some of it. “I´m sorry little one… I think its better for you to go with the rest of refugees…” he said while looking back, seeing some women and men running out of the village with children and small babies. You shook your small head and whimper as you see them looking at you, waiting to come to them.  

The strange man pats your head and stood up. “Stay safe, child,” he said while walking towards his horse, leaving you alone and scared, taking all the safeness with him.  

Looking to the people waiting for you and then to the stranger’s back, you stood up and run as fast your little legs could.  

The golden eye man stops as he feels your tiny hand grab his. Looking down, he sees your sad chubby face staring to him, tears running down your soft cheeks. “P..Please…don´t leave me!” you desperate grab his large hand, trying to make him stay.  

He stays looking down at you with a serious face, thinking of what to do. After a while, he lets out a defeated sigh and nods. “Okay… but I will only take you to the nearest town, where is safe for you,” he said while picking you up and putting you on his horse´s back. Then he climbs up, sitting behind you. His strong arms wrap around you as he takes hold of the reins and orders his horse to move, taking you away from the vast chaos and death. 

                                                    /// \\ 

It´s been a month and you still have a long way until you arrive at the nearest town. In all your time with Geralt, you got to know each other. To your surprise, the large man was a witcher who shocks you since he was so gentle and protective with you.  

You have heard stories about his kind, your mother used to tell as a bedtime story. Telling the brave tales from the monsters’ hunters.  

“I´m bored…” you said while sitting beside the small campfire, pouting. “Hi bored. I’m Geralt.” he said with a smirk on his face, making you huff in annoyance. “Can I go play in the river?” you asked with hopeful eyes.  

Since you two stopped to make a camp, the lovely calm waters from the river on the other side of the road grabbed your attention. All you wanted to do was to jump to the beautiful blue water and swim around.  

“No.” that was his answer which made your hope die out. You roll your eyes and huff, hitting with your tiny foot on the muddy ground. “Why not?” you asked, glaring to him.  

Geralt stops polishing his sword and looks to you with one of his silver brows lifted. “Because I said so. Now, why don´t you rest a bit?” he said while posing his sword beside him and resting his back against the tree, closing his eyes.  

You murmured something under your breath and lie down beside the warm fire, watching the flames dance with each other.

After some time, you hear a soft snore coming from Geralt. Standing up, you saw him fast asleep. Smirking gently, you tiptoe to the river, careful not to step in some dry leaves.  

As you reach the bank of the river, the fresh air hits your small face. Grinning widely, you took off your shoes and put your tiny feet on the cold water, giggling as you feel the soft sand on your toes. Looking up, you saw the sun going down and the stars starting appearing on the twilight sky.  

As you were entertained playing on the water, you didn’t notice the horrendous creature swimming in your way. His hungry eyes fixed on your small figure, waiting for you to let down your guard. As you were about to pick up a beautiful white stone, you see something move on the murky water. Feeling suspicious, you turn back to leave but a wet cold hand grabs your arm, pulling into the deeps of the river.  

You scream and trash your small body, trying to get free from the creature firm hold. Water starts filling your lungs, making difficult to breathe and your body heavy. The creature licks your face and opens his large mouth, showing all his sharp teeth. As he was about to bit your face off, something pulls the creature out of the water, taking you as well.  

When you hit the hard ground, you start coughing all the water out and taking deep breathes, filling your lungs with fresh air.  

The creature lets out a painful scream and fell on the floor, black blood pouring out of his mouth. Looking up, you see Geralt glaring down to the creature, stabbing him with the point of his silver sword.  

Sobbing loudly, you jump to his arms. Burying your face on his warm chest, inhaling his spicy scent. He wraps his arms around your small frame and carries you back to the camp.  

He grabs a warm blanket and wraps it around you. “I..I´m sorry…Please d..don´t be mad at me…” you sob into his neck, curling your small body against his.  

Geralt took a deep breath and kiss gently your forehead. “I´m not mad, Y/n… but you should have listened to me. You could have died if I didn´t hear you yell,” he said, rocking you gently, trying to calm you down.  

You nod and took a deep breath. Your cries begin to die out, only sniffing and whimper quietly into his chest.  

Geralt starts humming a song, making your eyes heavy as sleep begins to take over your sore and shivering body. His gentle strokes on your back made hum in happiness as bury yourself into him, pulling the soft blanket to your shoulder and sigh in relief.  

The only things you could hear was his soft humming and the slow beat of his heart, lulling you to sleep.  

“I love you, Daddy.” with your words, his body tense. His humming stops and his heart starts beating faster. He took a deep breath and kiss your head, you could feel the sweet smile on his lips.  

“And I love you, my daughter.”

Hey Guys!!! So, what do you think? Should i do a part 2? Hope you like it and feel free to comment and tell me what you think!!

Also, Geralt taglist is open. Click right HERE

XOXO

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i was wondering if you could write some dad!logan with a reader whos lauras teacher and maybe laura talks to him about her teacher. thank you!!!!

dad!logan x teacher!reader

laura was a bright student; one of the brightest in the entire class but there was a small behavioral issue. the young girl would often beat up any student who stole her supplies or made her angry. one of the only people who could calm her down was you; her favorite teacher.

"how was school, kid?" logan asked laura when she walked into the house.

"fine," she answered.

"no more fightin'?" he arched a stern brow at the girl who had been sent home with notes regarding her classroom behavior.

"no." laura glares then explains how you have helped her control her anger.

this wasn't the first time laura had rambled on about you. the young girl's eyes lit up as she told her dad about the pretty young teacher and everything she taught her that day. logan had never met you, the closest being the letters laura brought home to him, on colorful decorative stationery and the one time he saw you through the classroom window when he dropped laura off.

logan thought you were gorgeous even with stray pencils hold up your hair and marker stains on your palms. too pretty to give a man like him the time of day. laura compared you to someone out of a fairytale book.

you seemed to be a good influence on laura so logan had no concerns or complaints. his daughter would often emphasize that there was no ring on your finger either. logan didn't bother entertaining the idea of laura setting him up with her twenty-something year old teacher. instead, he stuck to listening to all of her stories about you and your class.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

every saturday morning, you stuck to the same routine; go to your favorite coffee shop and work on next weeks lesson plan then head to the grocery store. it wasn't much but it kept you busy.

as you stroll through the aisles and check items off of your list, a pair of small feet some running your way. a man is heard angrily calling after the child clinging to you.

"hello, sweet girl!" you smile down at laura. "what are you doing here this early?"

before she could answer, a tall older gentlemen approach's you and a swarm of butterflies threaten to fall loose from your mouth. was this laura's father? this -to put it simply- hot man dressed in jeans and a flannel.

logan's mouth opened to scold his daughter but you stop him.

"you must be, mr. howlett?"

your smile was deadly, logan thought to himself. he couldn't stop staring at your soft features. logan had never been left this speechless, all he could do was nod.

luckily for both of you, laura did all the introducing. you tell him how amazing of a kid she is and all the accomplishments she's reached in your classroom. logan was only half listening, a bit too occupied with the way your lips moved as you spoke. he finally managed to spit out a 'thank you' for helping laura.

the young girl wasn't stupid, even she could see that something was happening between the two of you. if she had it her way, you would be coming over to join them for dinner. logan promised her hamburgers tonight.

"well, i should let the two of you continue your shopping." you say politely, not wanting your gawking at her father become anymore noticeable. "see you on monday, laura."

you barely moved three steps before you heard a shuffle and logan stopped you. unbeknownst to you, laura gave him a swift kick in the leg. she wasn't going to let him blow this for her.

"y-you should join us for dinner sometime." he stutters. what happened to the smooth ladies man he once was? had age really caught up to him already?

you hesitate to answer. of course you wanted to. it's been so long since a kind, attractive man has asked you to dinner but this would definitely come off as unprofessional.

"as a thank you." he adds, hoping that will help swayed you.

the moment you look down at laura's wide smile, awaiting your answer; you knew you would cave.

"I would love to."

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

a/n: might need to do a part two because i love this concept <3

the muskification of twitter except it's lex luthor instead of elon lol

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