#Keypad devices

[caterpillarinacave]

well this sucks

[mobilemate]

ITEL CITY 100 – Sleek, Simple, and Reliable

The ITEL CITY 100 is a compact and stylish feature phone designed for everyday communication. With its classic keypad, long-lasting battery, and durable build, it's perfect for those who prefer simplicity and efficiency in a phone. Whether used as a backup device or a primary mobile for basic needs, the ITEL CITY 100 delivers reliability without compromise.

[danielschneider4363]

Best Smart Home Innovations?

In the coming weeks, I am excited to explore the world of smart home technology, specifically focusing on the innovations offered by SwitchBot. I am particularly interested in their door lock keypad, which promises to enhance home security while providing convenience. It's amazing to think about how smart devices can simplify our lives and create a safer living environment.

I can't wait to dive in and discover how SwitchBot's products can transform my home into a smarter and more secure place!

[xcalable24]

HID 5352AGS10 ProxPro Card Reader

[nosyp]

Twisted Desires

Part 1 | Part 2

A/N = Contains spoilers, read at your own discretion. Don't blame me if you learn smt before watching season 2 <3 (also yes im reusing pics)

Warning = Smut🔞, Murder, Violence, Stockholm Syndrome, Captivity, Isolation

Pairing = Front man (Hwang In-ho/Player 001) x reader

Summary = You found out your boyfriend, In-ho, joined the squid game. As you watched the game unfold, you can’t help but feel the growing tension between you two, especially as the stakes get higher and your bond grows darker.

Word count = 2.1k words

There was no. fucking. way.

Your boyfriend, Hwang In-ho and frontman, actually joined the game. You watched intently as he walked through the gap between the two groups of people. One was on the ‘O’ side and the other on the ‘X’ side. He was the last to vote since he was player 001. The voting went from the last player to the first. 

He paused at the table, eyes moving back and forth from the two buttons in front of him. The silence was intense, heavy. Then, his hand moves to the red button… what the fuck? No, actually… he didn’t press it yet. He halts, his hand still in the air. You can see his head turning to the blue button… and he presses it, making the count bump up an extra one. Of course he did. 

At the end of the vote, the ‘O’ side won, which means that the game will continue. The opposing side looked clearly frustrated. I mean, you couldn’t blame them. This game costs their lives if anything. 

Soon, the speaker announces: “The lights will go out in… 3… 2… 1”

Then, the lights shut down, darkness consuming the room. The screen showed the room with heat detection, you could now only see red silhouettes of the figures. Carefully, you inspected the figures and spotted a familiar one moving. The door to the room suddenly opened and the figure passed through the threshold. 

Not long after, you suddenly got a call on the corded phone. The ringing of the phone echoed through the room. You hesitated to pick it up, carefully locking eyes onto the device. Your hand grazed the keypad of the phone, and you picked it up.

“Hello?” you ask the other voice.

“[Name],” his voice crackles through the phone, low and cold. “Are you watching?”

You can hear the slight rustling on the other end, but it’s not enough to make sense of what’s happening. The silence starts again before he continues, “I need you to stay quiet. Don’t try anything funny.”

You can feel your heartbeat picking up pace as you strain to hear any background noise. The weight of his words presses on you. “I’ll be with you again. Soon.”

You knew the man was crazy, but you hadn’t expected something like this… or maybe you did. He often spoke about ‘joining for fun’. There was nothing fun about the whole thing though.

“I don’t think I can really go anywhere,” you respond, still able to hear the rustling in the background.

“Good.” he says before hanging up. The phone call closed with a long beep. 

This bitch somehow managed to find a way to dictate your life, despite being trapped in a game surrounded with many other people. Honestly, he’d probably find some other way if he couldn’t call you. 

The next few days, you watched as he blended into the crowd of players and played his own game. Surprisingly, but also unsurprisingly, he managed to survive game after game. Though, he probably wouldn’t have died even if he lost. The fear of the other players, the chaos, the high stakes, it unnerved you. 

The worst part about it was his calm, cold demeanor only grew more unsettling as he navigated the games with ease. There was no doubt in your mind that he was doing this for his own amusement, but you couldn’t tell what his goal was. Was he playing to win, or was he just having fun with the entire ordeal? Either way, it made you sick.

Every day, you were forced to watch from the sidelines, your mind consumed with thoughts of what might happen to him… or to you. You still hadn’t heard from him since that last phone call, but you could feel his presence in every corner of this twisted game. His control over you, over everything, was absolute. The way he operated, making sure his every move was calculated, was nothing short of terrifying. He was always somehow one step ahead, he could always predict future movements with precise accuracy.

He hadn’t just entered the game to survive, you swore he had entered it to manipulate it. You could only wonder what his true intentions were as you waited, trapped in this nightmare. Every moment you spent here, unable to escape, only added to the sickening realization that no matter what happened, you were always going to be his pawn. A toy in his little game.

The door suddenly clicked open, and in came two of the triangle-masked men. They hadn’t said anything and just stood near the door. 

“What do you want?” you ask, shattering the silence of the room.

“Boss asked us to ensure your safety ma’am,” one of the men replied.

“I don’t need your fucking protection. How many times do I have to say that?” you spat fiercely. You didn’t even know if they were enjoying the torment with the boss or just doing their job. You’d probably guess the latter but the choice of workers this year was… very peculiar. Most of the people were nut-jobs, taking up weird & dangerous jobs prior to joining the ‘squid game’. 

“Boss insists,” the other states, like you didn’t know.

You roll your eyes at the response and just sent them a deathly glare. “I honestly never wanted this… and I highly doubt you wanted it either,”

Silence followed, none of them responded. 

—

It was supposedly nearing the end of the whole operation and it started to get interesting. Seong Gi-Hun, or player 456, had hatched a plan to attract the guards and when they got close enough, he would attack. The others, including your boyfriend, joined the plan.

The fight was already brutal. A purple-haired guy was already brutally stabbed to death by a fork and so many of the other players met the same fate as well. Blood was splattered all over the walls and floors, you couldn’t even imagine how long the cleaning’ll take. 

The situation started to escalate as it turned into a gun-war. The masked group was obviously having the upper hand, they had more manpower and resources. Honestly, you admired Gi-hun’s bravery. He probably knew this was a high risk mission, the whole thing would have some amount of sacrifices.

One-by-one, they took down the masked men and it seemed like they actually had a chance. But you knew In-ho probably wouldn’t let that happen. And as you expected, he took down the two men with him. It didn’t take him long to flee the scene and go back to hiding behind the scene.

The door opened, and in came the infamous leader.

“So… you’ve had your fun… what now?” you speak up, interrogating him.

He pauses, stops in his place, you can see it from the reflection on the screen. His gaze flickers to you, he was still in his green outfit with blood all over him. “Hmmm… I need to go back to being the front man,”

You turn your head towards him, giving him a small smile, not of gratitude or anything though. “You put up quite the show… who knew you could do all that?” you say teasingly.

“You really don’t know me at all, do you honey?” he responds, with just as much tease in his tone as you.

Hearing his tone, you got up from the sofa and grabbed a napkin from the table. One step after the other, you slowly got closer to him and wiped the blood off of him. 

“How sweet of you,” he says. “What changed?”

You stop after hearing the question. It was true, just a second ago you were angry at him. And it all just dissipated in thin air, what is happening to you?

“Nothing, just missed my boyfriend,” you giggle. “You should go change now.”

“I think we have time…” he says, his hand grabbing a hold under your thigh. He lifts it up and wraps his other one around your waist.

“W-what…? For what?” you ask curiously.

“You’ll see,” he says, his lips brushing over yours.

Before you could even process what was happening, In-ho’s grip on you tightened. His hands were firm on your body, pulling you flush against him with a strength that left you breathless. Without a second of hesitation, he crashed his lips onto yours, silencing any protests you might’ve had. The kiss was wild, needy, like he couldn’t get enough of you. And before you even realized it, your legs were wrapped around his waist, holding onto him as though you needed his support.

You felt the weight of his arms around you, supporting you, guiding you, and suddenly, it was all too much. His breath was ragged against your lips as he tugged you closer, the heat of his body mixing with yours.

His touch was possessive, but so tender in the way he gripped your skin. Every second, every movement, was loaded with unspoken words… his desire, his lust, his need for you, but also something darker, a reminder of who he was in this twisted game. Yet, all you could think about in that moment was the pull between you, how his presence seemed to drown out everything else.

You could feel his heartbeat hammering against your chest, syncing with your own, and for a moment, everything else faded away. There was no game, no chaos, no twisted rules. This time… it was just him and you.

It was almost dizzying. The way his lips moved with an intensity that left you breathless. You melted into him, giving in to the urgency of the moment, your hands threading into his bloodstained shirt as you pulled him even closer. And just as quickly, he deepened the kiss, a growl vibrating in his chest, pulling a desperate moan from you.

It was messy. It was raw. It was everything that you shouldn’t want, but couldn’t stop yourself from craving more of him.

“Don’t think,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and rough, just how you like it. “Just feel. Feel me.”

His words fell onto deaf ears as you numbed against his touch, His lips trailed down to your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin there, making your breath hitch in your throat. You clung to him, desperate for more, for any scrap of his attention, but your head was spinning.

“In-ho…” you managed to breathe, barely able to form words, your chest heaving as he kissed his way back up to your jaw, his fingers digging into your skin in that familiar, possessive way.

“Shh,” he whispered, his voice rough with barely contained desire, it was something more than that. He was desperate for you now. His hands roamed every inch of your body, tracing the lines, memorizing every curve as if he needed to own every part of you. “You don’t need to say anything. I know what you want.”

He spoke like he had all the answers, and in that moment, he probably did. The way he held you, the way he moved with such authority, made it impossible to do anything but give in to him. To him and this chaotic, twisted connection you shared. Maybe you weren’t any better than him.

Your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging him back to you as your lips crashed together again. It wasn’t gentle this time. The kiss was rough, hungry, full of tension and need. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you in a rhythm that only seemed to escalate the fire burning between you. His breath, hot against your mouth, sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn’t stop yourself from moaning against his lips.

You felt his smirk before you heard it. “You’re mine, [Name],” he muttered against your lips. His words were a command, a promise, and you couldn’t deny the thrill that ran through you at the sound.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes burning with an intensity that made your heart race. “You want me, don’t you? Want me more than anything else right now. Tell me you want me,”

His hands were on you again, pressing you deeper into him, and in that moment, there was no escaping him. No escaping the pull of his dark, twisted affection.

You didn’t answer, not with words, but your body told him everything he needed to know. He hummed in satisfaction and you let him explore you even deeper.

[corviiids]

to this day i can't get over how stupid it was to remove the headphone jack from phones. now if you want to use wired headphones you have to use the charging port. and then they made a stupid little external adapter you have to plug in that sticks out of your phone and advertise it as Hey now you can listen to music AND charge your phone at the same time! what an innovation! if only we could have done that before! the thing i want most from these increasingly sleek and efficient shapes and designs is to have a bunch of external bullshit sticking out of it to make it as clunky as possible! next they will remove the call function from your phone entirely and in order to make phone calls you will need to attach it by a twirly cable to an external keypad that plugs into the wall, and to enhance the speaker/microphone you'll be able to set your nice neat rectangle into a banana shaped device that sits nicely against your ear and mouth. and that's what we call innovation

[blackswallowtailbutterfly]

Figured it out. Stupid fucking thing.

I FUCKING hate new technology. I fucking hate it! Literally went to go SET AN ALARM on this new phone. Simplest fucking thing, or should be, right? NO!!! The clock app is some stupid "Modes and Routines" bullshit that I don't understand or care about! I JUST NEED TO SET A FUCKING ALARM ON IT!!! And is the internet helpful at all in answering this simple fucking question? Nope! "Just click on the alarm tab in the clock app! :D" THERE IS NO FUCKING ALARM TAB. THERE IS NO REASON THAT *SETTING AN ALARM* SHOULD BE THIS FUCKING DIFFICULT!

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, always and forever ࿐‧₊ you're too sweet for me

chapter summary: You and Jean come up with a playful bet that goes slightly out of hand.

word count: 9.8k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: this is actually quite a fluffy fun chapter - we have a few more "filler" chapters left before we get to some more important things!

warnings/tags: reader wears glasses, fluff, cat, cat allergy, playful bet, implied ovulating/period, oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, slight praise kink

series masterlist - chapter 9 → chapter 11

“Here,” you said simply, handing Logan the brand-new iPhone. He stared at the sleek black device like you’d just handed him an alien artifact.

“What the hell am I supposed to do with this?” he asked, his brow furrowed in suspicion. His fingers brushed over the screen, but he didn’t press anything.

“You’re supposed to use it,” you replied, grinning at his hesitation. “It’s a phone, Logan. Welcome to the 21st century.”

He turned it over in his hands, clearly unimpressed. “My flip phone works just fine. Makes calls, takes messages. Why’d I need this fancy piece of crap?”

“Because,” you said patiently, sitting on the edge of the kitchen counter with your own new phone in hand, “your flip phone doesn’t even have a battery life anymore. And this isn’t just a phone. It’s also a camera, a computer, and… well, it’s everything.”

Logan squinted at it, still unconvinced. “What do I need all that for? I don’t even like computers.”

You laughed. “You don’t have to like it. But you’ll get used to it. Trust me, once you figure out texting, you’ll never go back.”

He grunted in response, swiping his thumb experimentally across the screen. It didn’t do anything. “How’s this damn thing even work?”

“Okay, okay,” you said, hopping off the counter. “Let me show you.” You stood beside him and reached for the phone, your fingers brushing against his as you took it.

“First, you tap here to turn it on.” You pressed the side button, and the screen lit up. Logan flinched slightly, then scowled at the glowing Apple logo.

“Great. Now it’s starin’ at me,” he muttered.

You stifled a laugh. “It’s booting up. Once it’s on, you’ll see the home screen, and from there, you can—”

The phone buzzed in your hands, and Logan jerked back like it had shocked him. “What the hell was that?”

“It’s just the haptic feedback,” you explained. “It vibrates when you touch certain things. Don’t worry, it’s not going to bite you.”

Logan’s glare deepened, but he didn’t stop watching. When the screen finally loaded, you handed the phone back to him. “Here. Try unlocking it.”

He hesitated, then tapped the screen the way you had. It didn’t respond.

“No, you have to swipe,” you said, guiding his hand with yours. “Like this.” Together, you swiped across the screen, and it opened to the home screen.

“See? Easy.”

Logan grunted again, still not convinced. “So what now? How do I make a damn call?”

“Okay, let’s start simple. See the green icon with the phone? Tap that.”

He did as you said, his finger pressing down awkwardly on the screen. When the keypad appeared, he gave a small nod, clearly relieved. “Alright. This I get.”

“Good,” you said, smiling. “Now you just punch in a number, and when you’re done, hit the green button again to call. Easy.”

He muttered something under his breath but seemed to be following along. After a few moments, he handed the phone back to you. “Still don’t see the point.”

“Because it’s not just for calls,” you reminded him. “Here, let me show you how to text.”

“Text?” he repeated, his tone laced with skepticism.

“Yes, Logan. Text. It’s how people communicate now.” You opened the messages app and started a new message, typing out a quick “Hi” and sending it to yourself. When your phone buzzed in your pocket, you pulled it out and showed him.

“See? Now you can send me messages instead of yelling from the other room.”

Logan smirked. “But yellin’ works just fine.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re hopeless.”

“Nah,” he said, slipping the phone into his pocket. “Just old-fashioned.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you teased, leaning up to kiss his cheek but staying at his side with your arms around his waist. “You know how you always complain about being only able to hear my voice when you’re on a mission? Now, you can video call me.”

Logan raised a skeptical brow, glancing down at the phone still tucked into his pocket. “Video call? Sounds like somethin’ outta Star Trek.”

You rolled your eyes and reached for your own phone. “It’s not that complicated. Look, I’ll show you.” You tapped a few buttons, and within moments, Logan’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out like it was a ticking time bomb.

“It’s just me, Logan. Answer it.”

He frowned, poking at the screen. “Which one do I press?”

“The green button,” you said, trying not to laugh as his finger hovered over the wrong icon.

After a few seconds of fumbling, he finally managed to tap it. Your face popped up on his screen, the image slightly grainy but clear enough. Logan stared at it, his brows furrowing deeper.

“There. Now you can see me,” you said, grinning.

Logan tilted the phone away like he didn’t trust it, his gaze shifting from the screen to you. “Why would I wanna see you on a little box when I can just see you in person?”

You snorted, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Because sometimes you’re halfway across the country, grumpy old man. And maybe I miss you.”

His expression softened slightly, though his gruff exterior remained intact. “You miss me, huh?”

“Of course, I do,” you replied, nudging him playfully. “Not that I’d admit it to your face.”

“Too late,” Logan muttered, his lips quirking into a small smirk. He glanced back at the screen, his thumb brushing over it lightly. “So this thing’s not completely useless.”

“High praise,” you teased, closing the app on your phone. “See? You’re already learning.”

He let out a low chuckle, slipping the phone back into his pocket. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it. Still don’t like this thing.”

“Noted,” you said with mock seriousness, patting his chest. “Now, can we go out for lunch? I’m starving.”

“Thought you’d never ask,” he replied, slipping his arm around your shoulders as the two of you headed for the kitchen.

---

While you were grading papers before your next class, Logan walked in, his brows scrunched at his phone. “What the hell is this?”

Logan held the phone out like it might explode at any second. The screen was open to a message from Jubilee, a chaotic string of emojis: 🎉✨🔥👩‍🎤🌈🐱🛸.

“What the hell is this supposed to mean?” he asked, his voice edged with irritation. He frowned at the tiny icons as if they had personally offended him. “Is this even English?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose as you glanced at the screen. “It’s emojis, Logan. They’re… expressive.”

“Expressive, huh?” He squinted at the screen, unimpressed. “Looks like she smashed her face into the keyboard.”

“Well, it’s Jubilee. What did you expect?” you teased, taking the phone from his hand to get a better look. “She’s probably excited about something.”

Logan crossed his arms, his frown deepening. “Then why not just say it? What’s the point of all this… nonsense?”

“Because it’s fun,” you explained with a shrug. “Sometimes words aren’t enough. Emojis add personality.”

He snorted. “Personality, my ass. Looks like a damn hieroglyphic puzzle.”

You chuckled, handing the phone back to him. “Just text her back and ask what she means.”

“How the hell am I supposed to do that?” Logan grumbled, poking at the screen clumsily. “This thing barely listens to me.”

“It’s not voice-activated,” you said with an exasperated smile. “Here, I’ll show you.” You stepped closer, your hands brushing against his as you took the phone again. “Tap here to start typing.”

He watched as you opened the keyboard, his expression skeptical. “And what? Just start pecking at it like a chicken?”

You stifled a laugh. “Pretty much. Or you can use the voice-to-text feature if you want. It’ll transcribe what you say.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Transcribe? You’re makin’ it sound fancier than it is.”

“Okay, fine,” you said, grinning. “It writes down your grumpy muttering. Better?”

“Much.” He leaned over your shoulder, watching as you demonstrated how to use the feature. His proximity made your heart skip a beat, though you did your best to focus on the task.

“See? Easy,” you said after dictating a quick test message. “Just press the little microphone icon and speak.”

Logan eyed the phone like it might bite him. “You’re tellin’ me this thing’s smart enough to understand me?”

“It is,” you assured him, holding back a laugh. “Give it a try.”

With a reluctant sigh, Logan tapped the microphone icon. “Jubilee,” he said, his voice low and deliberate, “what the hell do all those pictures mean?”

The phone transcribed his words perfectly, and you grinned as you hit send. “See? Not so bad.”

He grunted, crossing his arms again as he waited for a response. A moment later, the phone buzzed with Jubilee’s reply: “LOL Logan! It means ‘party time, let’s rock, cats rule, aliens are cool!’ 🎸🐾👽✨”

Logan stared at the screen, his frown returning. “Party time? Cats? Aliens? What the hell kinda conversation am I havin’ here?”

You laughed, patting his arm. “It’s Jubilee. You’re lucky she didn’t send you a meme.”

“What the hell’s a meme?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Oh, you’ll find out eventually,” you said, grinning. “For now, just stick with the basics.”

“Basics,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Textin’, emojis, memes… what’s next? The damn thing makes coffee?”

You couldn’t help but laugh again, leaning into him as he slid the phone back into his pocket with an annoyed grunt. “You’re doing great, Logan. One step at a time.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, though there was a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t expect me to start usin’ this thing all the time.”

“Of course not,” you said, still smiling. “But admit it—it’s not as bad as you thought.”

He didn’t respond, but the flicker of amusement in his eyes was enough for you.

---

“Why’d ya call me in here?” Rogue asked, standing outside Jubilee’s room.

“Well… me and Kitty went into town and came across something. Come in.” Jubilee opened the door just enough for Rogue to walk inside before closing it.

"Aw, poor thing," Rogue murmured as she stepped closer to Kitty, who cradled the small black cat in her arms. Its fur was scruffy, and a small scab marred its leg. The cat let out a weak meow, and Rogue's expression softened even further. "Where’d y’all find it?"

“Behind that old diner downtown,” Kitty explained, stroking the cat’s head gently. “It was just sitting there, all alone. We couldn’t just leave it.”

“Yeah,” Jubilee chimed in, folding her arms. “It’s clearly seen better days. Probably hasn’t eaten in a while.”

Rogue raised an eyebrow. “Y’all know we’re not allowed to have pets, right?”

Jubilee waved her hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, but c’mon, Rogue. Look at this little guy. We can’t just kick him back out there.”

Kitty nodded fervently. “We’ll keep him hidden. Nobody has to know.”

Rogue sighed, her resolve already weakening. “Fine. But if we get caught, this is on y’all.”

“Deal!” Jubilee grinned. “Now, we just need to figure out where to keep him.”

---

For a few days, things went smoothly—or as smoothly as they could with three girls sneaking a cat around the mansion. They took turns feeding and caring for it, stuffing it into backpacks or under blankets anytime they heard footsteps in the hallway.

But then, the sneezing started.

You rubbed at your nose, frowning as another sneeze tore through you. “This doesn’t make any sense,” you muttered, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Spring allergies don’t usually hit me like this.”

Logan glanced up from the newspaper he was reading at the kitchen table. “You okay, darlin’? You’ve been sneezin’ all morning.”

“I don’t know.” You sniffled, grabbing a tissue. “I woke up like this. It’s weird.”

He gave you a once-over, his brow furrowing. “Maybe you’re comin’ down with somethin’.”

“I don’t think so,” you said, blowing your nose. “I feel fine otherwise. Just… stuffy.”

Jean walked in then, grabbing a cup of coffee from the pot. “Morning, guys. Y/N, are you okay? You sound congested.”

“I am,” you admitted, gesturing vaguely. “But it’s not a cold. It’s like I’m allergic to something all of a sudden.”

Jean frowned. “That’s strange. Did you change anything recently? New detergent? Perfume?”

“No, nothing.” You sighed, frustrated. “It’s probably nothing. I’ll just take an antihistamine and see if it helps.”

Logan didn’t look convinced, but he let it go for now.

---

Back in Jubilee’s room, the three girls huddled around the cat, who was now cleaned up and looking much healthier after a few days of care.

“I think we’re in the clear,” Kitty said, scratching behind the cat’s ears. “No one suspects a thing.”

“Yeah,” Jubilee agreed, though she looked slightly guilty. “Except… uh… maybe Y/N.”

Rogue’s eyes widened. “What? Why?”

“Well, she’s been sneezing a lot,” Jubilee admitted, wincing. “And I think… I think she might be allergic to cats.”

Rogue groaned. “Oh, great. Now what?”

“We just have to be more careful,” Kitty said quickly. “Keep the cat away from her. Maybe she won’t notice.”

Jubilee nodded. “Right. Easy.”

---

Unfortunately, it wasn’t that easy. Over the next few days, your sneezing got worse, and Logan grew increasingly suspicious.

“Darlin’, this ain’t normal,” he said one evening as you sat on the couch grading papers, tissues scattered around you. “You sure there ain’t somethin’ in the mansion messin’ with you?”

“I don’t know,” you said miserably, pushing your glasses up your nose. “I’ve never had allergies like this before.” You tilted your head as you blew your nose, “I mean, I remember I had a reaction when my grandpa was fostering a cat, but that was when I was 12.”

Logan folded the newspaper, his brow furrowing as he watched you rub your nose again. “You remember, huh? The cat thing? From when you were a kid?”

“Yeah.” You sniffled and leaned back on the couch, tossing the tissue into the growing pile on the coffee table. “It was awful. I couldn’t breathe for weeks. Grandpa had to send the cat back to the shelter.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, his instincts flaring. “Thinkin’ it’s a cat now?”

You shrugged, frustrated. “I don’t know, Logan. I haven’t seen a cat around here, and it’s not like anyone’s hiding one. It’s probably just a weird allergy flare-up.”

Logan didn’t look convinced. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I’ll take a look around, just in case. Mansion’s big, but nothin’ gets by me. If there’s somethin’ here, I’ll find it.”

“Logan, come on,” you protested, waving him off. “You’re overreacting.”

“Maybe,” he muttered, standing up. “But humor me, darlin’. If somethin’s makin’ you sick, I’m not lettin’ it slide.”

You sighed as he left the room, your glasses sliding down your nose as you pinched the bridge again. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

---

Meanwhile, in Jubilee’s room, the girls were scrambling.

“We’re in trouble,” Rogue hissed, pacing as Jubilee held the cat protectively against her chest. “Logan’s got a nose like a bloodhound. He’s gonna sniff this thing out.”

“Relax,” Jubilee said, though her voice was anything but calm. “We’ve kept him hidden this long. We’ll just double down. No more letting him wander around.”

Kitty frowned, glancing at the cat. “But what if Y/N’s really allergic? She’s been sneezing a lot.”

“She’s fine,” Jubilee said quickly, though the guilt was clear in her tone. “It’s just a coincidence.”

“Is it?” Rogue crossed her arms. “We need a plan. If Logan finds this cat, we’re done for.”

---

The sneezing didn’t stop. In fact, it got worse. Logan had been keeping an eye—and nose—on you, and he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was off.

One evening, after you’d gone to bed early with a box of tissues, Logan cornered Ororo in the kitchen.

“Something’s goin’ on,” he said, his voice low. “Y/N’s been sneezin’ her head off for days now, says it’s allergies, but she ain’t allergic to anything in this house.”

Ororo raised an eyebrow. “You think something’s triggering her?”

“Yeah,” Logan said, narrowing his eyes. “And I think it’s a cat.”

“A cat?” Ororo repeated, surprised. “Logan, there are no cats in the mansion.”

Logan leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “Maybe not officially, but I can smell somethin’. Been catchin’ whiffs of it in the halls. I’m gonna find out who’s hidin’ it.”

Ororo sighed. “If there is a cat, we’ll deal with it. Just… don’t go tearing the place apart.”

Logan smirked. “No promises.”

---

The next day, Logan followed his nose. He caught a faint trace of something feline near the girls’ dorms and honed in on Jubilee’s room. He knocked once before pushing the door open without waiting for a response.

“Alright, what are y’all hidin’ in here?” he asked, his voice a low growl.

Jubilee froze mid-step, her eyes wide. Kitty quickly shoved the cat under a blanket, but Shadow let out a soft meow, betraying their secret.

“Damn it,” Jubilee muttered.

Logan’s eyes narrowed, and he sniffed the air. “Knew it. You got a cat in here.”

“We can explain!” Kitty blurted out, holding up her hands.

Logan glared at them, stepping fully into the room. “You do realize Y/N’s been sneezin’ her head off ‘cause of this, right? And cats ain’t allowed here for a reason.”

“We didn’t mean to cause trouble,” Jubilee said quickly. “We just… we couldn’t leave him. He was all alone, and he was hurt.”

Logan glanced at the lump under the blanket, his expression softening just a fraction. “Lemme see it.”

Reluctantly, Kitty pulled the blanket back to reveal Shadow, who blinked up at Logan with wide green eyes.

Ororo appeared in the doorway then, her arms crossed. “Logan, what’s going on?”

“Found the cat,” Logan said simply, nodding toward Shadow.

Ororo sighed, stepping into the room. “I’ll take care of it. I know someone who can give the cat a good home.”

Jubilee and Kitty looked crushed, but they nodded. “Okay,” Kitty said softly.

“Thank you for saving it,” Ororo added gently. “But next time, talk to me first.”

As Ororo left with Shadow, Logan turned back to the girls. “If this happens again, you’re all gonna be on clean-up duty for a month. Got it?”

“Got it,” they chorused.

---

That evening, as you sat on the couch feeling significantly less congested, Logan walked in and sat beside you.

“You were right,” he said, draping an arm over your shoulders.

“About what?” you asked, leaning into him.

“There was a cat,” he admitted, smirking.

You stared at him. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. Kids were hidin’ it. Ororo’s takin’ it to a new home now.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Well, I guess that explains it.”

“Guess so,” Logan said, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You feelin’ better now?”

“Much,” you said, smiling up at him. “Thanks, honey.”

“Anytime, darlin’.”

---

“I don’t think Scott will even notice,” Jean said, as the hairdresser trimmed her hair.

You sat next to her, but instead you were getting your nails done. It was something you’ve never done before, but since Jean wanted a trim you tagged along. “I don’t think Logan’d notice either,” you replied, referring to your manicure.

Jean snorted, “you kidding me? Of course he’d notice. He noticed that you were using a different bookmark.”

You rolled your eyes, a soft smile playing on your lips. “It’s a completely different thing, Jean. My bookmark literally had sparkles. Scott’s not going to miss a haircut. Haircuts are major.”

Jean leaned back in her chair as the hairdresser put down the scissors. “Alright, Y/N. Let’s make it interesting. If Logan notices your nails before Scott notices my haircut, you owe me a week of grading those awful pop quizzes.”

“And if Scott notices first,” you countered, raising an eyebrow, “you’re in charge of my quizzes.”

Jean smirked. “Deal. You’re about to owe me big time.”

---

When the two of you got back to the mansion, you headed straight to the kitchen, where Logan, Scott, Ororo, and a few students were gathered. Logan stood by the counter, his arms crossed as he waited for the coffee to brew. His eyes immediately found yours as you entered the room.

“Hey, darlin’,” he greeted, his gaze dropping to your hands as you fiddled with the edge of your sweater. He tilted his head. “Nice nails. You don’t usually go for this kinda thing, but they suit you.”

You froze, your mouth opening slightly in shock. Jean had the audacity to grin next to you, clearly enjoying the moment.

“Thanks, Logan,” you muttered, feeling a slight heat rise to your cheeks.

Jean was practically bouncing on her heels as the two of you left the kitchen. “Told you!” she whispered triumphantly. “The man doesn’t miss a thing.”

You narrowed your eyes at her. “Scott hasn’t even seen you yet. It’s still anyone’s game.”

---

By the time dinner rolled around, Scott still hadn’t commented on Jean’s hair. You sat beside Logan at the table, glancing over at Jean, who was conspicuously brushing her hair back every few minutes to make it extra obvious.

When dessert was served, you leaned over to her and whispered, “Nothing yet?”

Jean sighed dramatically. “Not a word.”

Logan looked over at the two of you. “What’s with the whisperin’?”

“Nothing!” you said quickly, shooting Jean a warning glance.

Jean just smirked, leaning back in her chair. “Oh, it’s something. Y/N owes me now.”

“Not yet,” you hissed back.

---

The following week, the bets continued.

“I’m telling you, Logan will notice,” Jean said, as she put on extra blush. You bet that Scott would be able to notice that her cheeks were rosier than usual.

“Jean, it’s a belt. One you can’t even see since my shirt covers it,” you responded, exasperated as you pulled the hem of your sweater down over the new belt she’d somehow convinced you to wear.

Jean smirked, brushing her freshly trimmed hair over her shoulder like the reigning queen of I told you so. “You underestimate your husband, Y/N. He’ll notice. Logan always notices. And when he does, I’ll be sitting pretty with zero quizzes to grade next week.”

“Jean,” you said slowly, adjusting your glasses and staring at her like she was mildly unhinged. “There is no possible way he’ll notice a belt. Unless it starts glowing or shoots lasers, it’s not happening.”

“Don’t act like you’ve forgotten. He clocked your new bookmark,” she shot back with a laugh, tucking her hands into her hoodie pockets. “Scott, meanwhile, couldn’t pick me out of a crowd if I wore a completely different outfit. You’re lucky this bet is low stakes because you’re setting yourself up for heartbreak.”

“Yeah, well, he still hasn��t noticed your haircut, so maybe don’t count your chickens,” you muttered.

“Oh, honey,” Jean teased with mock sympathy. “Let me know how that fantasy pans out for you.”

---

Later that evening, you were in the living room grading assignments when Logan strolled in, towel slung over one shoulder from a workout. His flannel was untucked, and his hair looked especially messy, which meant he'd probably gone a few rounds in the Danger Room. He grabbed a beer from the fridge before pausing, narrowing his eyes slightly as he looked at you.

You didn’t notice right away, too caught up in deciphering your students’ atrocious handwriting. Logan cleared his throat. “New belt?”

Your pen stalled mid-word, and you looked up at him with a mix of horror and disbelief. “How did you—?”

“Color’s different,” Logan said casually, gesturing with the bottle before sitting down next to you. He tipped his head, inspecting it with sharp, curious eyes. “Nice look. Suits you, darlin’.”

Jean, who had been walking by the open doorway, stopped just long enough to poke her head in. “Pay up,” she sing-songed before continuing down the hall.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, pinching the bridge of your nose.

Logan smirked, leaning back in his chair. “What’d I miss?”

“Nothing,” you grumbled, wishing you could sink into the couch and disappear.

---

The bets didn’t stop there. Jean was relentless in her ability to cook up increasingly obscure wagers on Logan’s observational skills. It turned into a kind of perverse sport, one where the stakes felt comically high despite how trivial the differences were.

One day, you and Jean went to the mall, and after the two of you walked out of the candle store, she pulled you across the walkway to a perfume store.

You smelt different perfumes—though you probably weren’t going to buy any, you always used the same one—when Jean came along with a small bottle. “Smell it,” she said, holding her spritzed hand to your nose.

You furrowed your brows, “that smells exactly like mine. Just a different brand.” Jean’s grin grew as you finally realized what her plan was. “There’s no way he’d notice! I can’t even tell the difference!”

“Well, let’s put it to the test shall we?”

The next morning, you spritzed on the new perfume Jean had chosen. It smelled so similar to the one you always wore that even you had to second-guess yourself. There was no way Logan would pick up on this. Jean, however, was practically vibrating with confidence when she caught a whiff of you in the hallway.

“Perfect,” she said with a mischievous grin. “Let’s see how long it takes.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a small smile. “I’m telling you, he won’t notice. This is ridiculous.”

Jean tilted her head, her red hair catching the sunlight as she smirked. “We’ll see.”

---

By lunchtime, you were beginning to think you might finally win one of these bets. Logan had been around you all morning—at breakfast, during your shared training session with a group of students, and even in the library when he stopped by to drop off a book you’d left in your classroom. Not once had he made any comments about your scent.

When you met Jean in the kitchen for a quick snack, she raised an eyebrow at you. “Well?”

“Nothing yet,” you said smugly, popping a grape into your mouth. “Looks like I might actually win this one.”

Jean leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “Don’t get cocky. He’s probably saving it for the perfect moment.”

“You sound way too confident for someone who’s about to owe me a week’s worth of grading,” you shot back, adjusting your glasses with a grin. “And don’t forget, Scott still hasn’t noticed your haircut from two weeks ago.”

Jean just shrugged, her confidence unshaken. “Scott’s a lost cause. Logan, on the other hand? He’s practically a bloodhound when it comes to you.”

---

Later that evening, you were curled up on the couch in the living room, grading papers with your glasses perched on your nose. Logan walked in, his flannel sleeves rolled up and his hair still damp from a shower. He settled into the armchair across from you, cracking open a beer and watching you with a lazy smile.

After a moment, he tilted his head, his brow furrowing slightly. “You smell different.”

Your pen froze mid-sentence, and you slowly looked up at him. “What?”

Logan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he studied you. “Different perfume. It’s close to the one you usually wear, but not the same. Did you change it?”

You stared at him, completely dumbfounded. “How… how could you possibly tell?”

He shrugged, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I know you, darlin’. You’ve been wearin’ the same one for years. I like the new one, though. Smells nice.”

From the hallway, you heard a quiet but triumphant “Ha!” followed by the sound of Jean’s laughter fading as she walked away.

You groaned, dropping your head into your hands. “Unbelievable.”

Logan chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “What am I missin’ this time?”

“Nothing,” you muttered, still hiding your face. “Just… nothing.”

---

Over the next few weeks, the bets escalated. Jean had an uncanny knack for picking the smallest, most inconsequential changes for Logan to notice about you—new socks, a slightly different shade of nail polish, even a replacement pair of jeans that were identical to your old ones. And each time, Logan noticed.

Meanwhile, your attempts to get Scott to notice Jean’s increasingly obvious changes were met with failure after failure. She even dyed a streak of her hair a darker shade of red, and Scott’s only response was, “did you change shampoos?”

By the end of the month, you were drowning in papers to grade thanks to losing every single bet. Jean, of course, was absolutely insufferable, though she did occasionally offer to take pity on you.

“You know,” she said one afternoon as the two of you walked to the garage for a supply run, “you could just admit defeat and stop betting.”

“And let you win without a fight?” you replied, narrowing your eyes at her. “Not a chance.”

Jean laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Suit yourself. Just don’t forget—Logan always notices, Y/N. Always.”

By mid-afternoon, you were in the study with Logan again, this time discussing a new training schedule for the students. He leaned over the desk, pointing out a few notes you’d written in the margins.

“Why’d you change this one?” he asked, tapping the paper.

You blinked, momentarily distracted by how close he was. “Huh?”

“This,” he said, gesturing to the note. “You usually write your reminders in blue ink, not black.”

You stared at him, completely floored. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Logan frowned, straightening up. “What?”

“Nothing,” you mumbled, shaking your head. “Just… nothing.”

From the doorway, you heard Jean’s voice: “Another one bites the dust!”

You buried your face in your hands, groaning. “I’m never living this down, am I?”

Jean strolled into the room, grinning like the cat who caught the canary. “Not a chance.”

Logan looked between the two of you, utterly bemused. “You two wanna clue me in, or are you just gonna keep bein’ cryptic?”

Jean patted his shoulder, still grinning. “Don’t worry about it, Logan. Just keep being you.”

As she walked out, Logan turned to you with a raised eyebrow. “What’s her deal?”

“Don’t ask,” you muttered, already dreading the next bet.

---

It finally got to a point where you just laughed at the predicament you found yourself in. Jean was crouched down on the floor, putting the smallest dot of white paint on your shiny black flats.

Even from your view, you couldn’t see it. The dot of white paint Jean had dabbed on your shiny black flats was so small it disappeared when the light hit your feet. You sighed, running a hand through your hair as Jean straightened up, a self-satisfied grin plastered on her face.

“This is getting ridiculous,” you muttered.

“Ridiculously fun,” Jean corrected, crossing her arms. “Come on, Y/N, this one is foolproof. There’s no way Logan notices.”

You gave her a flat look. “He noticed a belt. A belt, Jean. Do you realize how small this dot is compared to that? I can’t even see it!”

Jean shrugged, smug as ever. “Well, that’s why it’s the perfect test. He’s either superhumanly observant or…” She trailed off, her grin widening. “Well, actually, there’s no ‘or.’ He’s just superhumanly observant when it comes to you.”

You rolled your eyes, adjusting your glasses as you stepped back. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

---

Later that evening, you were sitting in the library with Logan, your grading spread out across the table. Logan had a book in his hand, but you could feel his gaze flick to you every few minutes.

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” he finally said, his voice low and gravelly.

“Just trying to get through these papers,” you replied without looking up, circling yet another wrong answer on a physics test.

Logan hummed, leaning back in his chair. A few seconds later, you caught him tilting his head, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly.

“What?” you asked, your voice tinged with suspicion.

He pointed toward your feet with his beer bottle. “You step in somethin’?”

Your heart sank. “What are you talking about?”

“There’s a white speck on your shoe,” Logan said, setting his beer down and leaning forward to inspect it closer. “Looks like paint.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. “How…?”

Logan shrugged. “Hard to miss.”

From the doorway, Jean leaned casually against the frame, her arms crossed as she grinned. “And that,” she said, her voice dripping with triumph, “is why you never bet against me.”

You groaned, dropping your head into your hands. “Unbelievable. How do you do this every time?”

Jean just laughed, sauntering off down the hall. “It’s not me, Y/N. It’s Logan. He always notices.”

---

For the next few days, you tried not to think about Jean’s unbroken winning streak. You’d resigned yourself to the fact that Logan was apparently the most detail-oriented person alive—at least when it came to you.

“Y’know,” Logan said one evening as you both sat on the couch, “you and Jean seem to be schemin’ a lot lately.”

“We’re not scheming,” you said quickly, though your cheeks warmed under his knowing gaze.

Logan raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of his beer. “Uh-huh. And these ‘not-schemes’ don’t have anything to do with you suddenly changin’ little things every day?”

Your eyes widened. “You noticed that too?”

“Darlin’,” Logan said with a smirk, leaning closer, “I notice everything about you.”

You groaned, covering your face. “I’m never going to win.”

Logan chuckled, pulling you closer as he kissed the top of your head. “Maybe stop bettin’ against Jean. Or just accept that I’ve got a soft spot for you.”

You peeked up at him, your heart softening despite your frustration. “You do, huh?”

“Biggest soft spot there is,” he said, his voice warm as his arms tightened around you.

For a moment, you forgot all about losing.

But only for a moment.

---

It all came to a head the next day, when you told Jean to wear a neon yellow jumpsuit, in hopes Scott would finally realize something.

But by the afternoon he still hadn’t said a single word.

You weren’t sure what overcame you, though usually when you berate or yell at someone it’s always Scott. The three of you were fixing one of the AC units outside, and after finishing you thought Scott would finally say something about Jean as he looked at the bright yellow outfit, but instead he said: “Wanna a drink?”

You grabbed Jean’s arm, pulling her to your side, your frustration finally boiling over. “No, she doesn’t. Maybe if you paid attention, she would.”

Jean blinked, clearly startled by your outburst. “Y/N—”

Scott cut in, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “Is this about the things you’ve been changing?”

“What?” you and Jean said in unison. Jean added quickly, “You noticed? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Scott hesitated, running a hand through his hair, his gaze flicking between the two of you. “Because you seemed happy. I didn’t want to ruin it.”

Jean’s mouth opened and closed a few times, her confident demeanor faltering. “You… didn’t want to ruin it?” she echoed, her voice softer now.

Scott shrugged, looking a little sheepish. “I know I’m not great at noticing stuff like Logan is. But I saw you were having fun with Y/N, and I figured it was your thing. I didn’t want to get in the way.”

Jean stared at him, her face a mixture of disbelief and something softer—something almost tender. “Scott Summers,” she said finally, crossing her arms over her bright yellow jumpsuit, “you are absolutely infuriating.”

Scott blinked, clearly thrown off. “What did I do?”

“You didn’t say anything!” Jean huffed, but there was no real heat behind her words. “You let me walk around in this—” she gestured to her jumpsuit, “—like a highlighter with legs, and you didn’t say a word?”

Scott raised an eyebrow. “You look good in it.”

Jean froze, her cheeks turning pink. “That’s not the point.”

Scott smirked faintly, clearly enjoying her flustered state. “Maybe not, but it’s true.”

You pressed your lips together, trying to hide your grin as Jean sputtered for a response. “Okay, fine,” she finally muttered, looking away. “But next time, say something.”

Scott stepped closer, his voice low and sincere. “Deal. But only if you promise not to bet against Logan anymore. He’s impossible to beat.”

Jean turned back to you, wide-eyed. “You told him?”

“I didn’t say a word!” you protested, holding up your hands.

Scott chuckled, shaking his head. “You didn’t have to. It’s not hard to figure out when the two of you are constantly whispering and sneaking around.”

Jean groaned, burying her face in her hands. “This is so embarrassing.”

You patted her on the shoulder, your smile softening. “At least now you know he notices, even if he doesn’t always say it.”

Jean peeked at Scott from between her fingers, her expression caught somewhere between annoyance and affection. “Fine. You win this round.”

Scott smiled, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “I always do.”

Jean rolled her eyes but didn’t pull away, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight. For all their differences, they made sense together.

As the three of you headed back into the mansion, Jean nudged you with her elbow. “So… what’s our next bet?”

You groaned, but you couldn’t stop the laughter bubbling up. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you love me for it,” Jean said with a wink.

---

Usually during this time of your cycle Logan could be… clingy. You knew it was completely unintentional; his senses could pick up the slightest change in your body, but the past few days he’s been more clingy and touchy than usual.

You, Jean, and Ororo were going out to a nice dinner spot, something that needed a slightly fancy outfit. You put on a pair of slacks, some flats, and a white shirt with structured bodice and a sweetheart neckline, complemented by gathered puff sleeves and a fitted waist.

You walked out of the bathroom, grabbing your purse and smoothing down your slacks as you made your way over to the bed. Logan was sprawled out on top of the blankets, one arm behind his head, the other holding a book that looked far too small for his hands. When he heard your footsteps, his gaze flicked up, and the book was immediately abandoned.

“Darlin’…” His voice was low and appreciative as his eyes swept over you. He sat up, his movements slow and deliberate, before standing and closing the space between you. His hands found your waist as his eyes lingered on your shirt. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, a soft laugh escaping you. “Is that your way of saying I look good?”

“More than good,” he said, his fingers tracing the edge of the bodice. His hands moved to gently spin you around, taking in every detail of the outfit. “Where’d you get this shirt?”

You started to answer, “I found it at—” but Logan’s hands were already toying with the puff sleeves, smoothing them out like they needed adjusting. His touch trailed lower, and he paused just below your collarbone, his fingers lightly brushing the fabric.

“It’s the sleeves,” he murmured, his tone teasing. “They’re distractin’.”

“They’re supposed to be,” you replied, tilting your head to look up at him. “It’s part of the charm.”

Logan smirked. “Oh, I get the charm, sweetheart.” His hands slid lower, adjusting the fabric around your waist before his palms rested over the sides of your ribcage. He gave a mock-serious nod. “There, now it’s perfect.”

You narrowed your eyes, fighting back a grin. “You’ve fixed it, huh?”

“Absolutely,” he said with a deadpan expression, his fingers lightly brushing your sides. “Though I might need to check somethin’.”

Before you could reply, he carefully cupped the sides of your breasts, adjusting them ever so slightly in the bodice with an exaggerated level of precision. You gasped, batting his hands away as a laugh bubbled up.

“Logan!”

He grinned, completely unrepentant. “What? Just makin’ sure everything’s sittin’ right.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly what you were doing.” You shook your head, trying to hide your laughter.

“Hey, don’t go accusin’ me of somethin’ I’m innocent of.” His tone was mock-offended, but the mischievous glint in his eyes gave him away.

“You’re impossible,” you said, smoothing your shirt back into place.

“And you love me for it.” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You sure you don’t wanna stay in tonight? I can think of a few ways to pass the time.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Jean and Ororo are waiting for me, and I’m not about to bail.”

Logan sighed, stepping back reluctantly. “Fine. But you’re gonna turn heads in that outfit, darlin’.”

“Good,” you teased. “Maybe you’ll think twice before touching the sleeves again.”

He chuckled, leaning down for one last kiss before you headed for the door. “Have fun, sweetheart. I’ll be here when you get back.”

As you left, you couldn’t help but smile, already looking forward to telling Jean and Ororo about Logan’s antics.

---

You grabbed your short block heels from your closet and moved to sit on the ottoman to put them on. Before you could reach down, Logan was already kneeling in front of you, gently pulling the heels from your hands.

“I got it,” he said, his voice gruff but affectionate, his thumb brushing against your wrist briefly as he set the shoes on the floor.

You tilted your head, giving him a playful smile. “You don’t have to do that, you know.”

Logan ignored your protest, his focus entirely on slipping the first shoe onto your foot. His fingers worked deftly but with surprising care as if even this small act deserved his full attention. He adjusted the strap to make sure it sat just right before moving to the other shoe.

“I like takin’ care of you,” he muttered, almost to himself.

Your cheeks warmed slightly, but you rolled your eyes to cover it up. “It’s just shoes, Logan. I think I can handle it.”

He glanced up at you, his expression soft despite the smirk tugging at his lips. “Doesn’t mean you have to.”

Once he finished with the second shoe, his hands rested lightly on your knees as he looked up at you, his eyes holding yours for a moment. There was something reassuring, grounding, about the way he looked at you—like you were the only person that existed to him in that moment.

“You’re fussier than usual this week,” you teased gently, brushing an errant strand of hair away from his face.

Logan chuckled, his thumbs drawing absentminded circles over your knees. “Might be because you’re distractin’ me.”

“Me? Distracting?” you asked, feigning innocence.

“Damn right,” he replied, leaning in slightly as his voice dropped lower. “How am I supposed to focus when you’re sittin’ here, lookin’ the way you do?”

You laughed softly, leaning down to press a quick kiss to the top of his head. “You know, most people would be flattered, but I think you just like causing trouble.”

He smirked, standing up and offering you a hand to help you to your feet. Once you were up, he let his hands settle on your hips, pulling you a little closer. “You figured me out, darlin’.”

“We’re going to be late,” you reminded him, but you didn’t make any effort to step away from him.

Logan’s brows furrowed as he leaned in to nuzzle against your temple. “Couple minutes won’t kill us.”

“It might if Ororo finds out why,” you said with a grin, earning a soft laugh from him.

He pulled back reluctantly, grabbing your blazer from where it hung on the back of the chair and holding it out for you. “Alright, sweetheart, let’s go. Can’t have you bein’ late for physics, now can we?”

You slipped into the blazer and grabbed your bag, smiling at him over your shoulder as you headed for the door. Logan stayed close behind, his hand resting lightly on your lower back as the two of you walked down the hall toward the classroom wing.

As you reached the corridor where your paths split, Logan leaned in for a quick but lingering kiss. “See you later, sweetheart.”

You smiled against his lips. “Try not to terrorize the students too much in your class, okay?”

“No promises,” he replied, smirking as he headed off toward the Danger Room for his class with Ororo. You shook your head, watching him go for a moment before continuing on your way, feeling lighter than you had in days.

---

Sitting next to Logan hadn’t been enough, neither was your legs on his lap. Instead, the perfect position for the two of you to be in was you straddling his lap, your book on his chest as you held it in place. When he first pulled you onto his lap, he had started to kiss you, but you were able to pull back and pout about not being able to read your book.

The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast a warm light over the room, highlighting the way your glasses perched on your nose as you concentrated on the book in your hands. Logan, however, had other plans. He leaned back against the couch cushions, his large hands resting lazily on your thighs as you straddled him.

At first, he was quiet, his sharp eyes tracking your expressions as you read. But Logan being Logan, he couldn’t sit still for long. His fingers began tracing absent patterns along your sides, drifting upward before sliding back down.

"Logan," you murmured, not looking up from the page.

"Yeah, sweetheart?" His tone was all innocence, but the way his hands tightened just slightly on your waist betrayed him.

"You’re supposed to be good," you reminded him, trying to focus as his lips pressed a kiss to the corner of your jaw.

"I am," he murmured against your skin, the scrape of his beard sending a shiver down your spine. "Haven’t moved, have I?"

Your lips twitched, fighting the urge to smile. "You’re moving right now."

"Don’t count, darlin’," he teased, his lips trailing down your neck, slow and deliberate. "Just enjoyin’ my wife while she’s sittin’ pretty on me."

You adjusted your glasses, willing yourself to stay focused as his kisses grew bolder, moving to your collarbone. His hands slid to your hips, steadying you as he shifted slightly, bringing you closer.

"Logan," you said again, though the firmness in your voice wavered.

"Yeah, darlin’?" This time his voice was lower, more gravel in it, and his lips skimmed just above the neckline of your nightgown.

You tried to ignore the heat spreading through you, gripping your book tighter. "You’re distracting me."

"Good." His lips curved into a grin against your skin before dipping lower. He pressed a kiss to the swell of your breast, just above the lace trim.

That was it. The book slipped from your hands onto his chest with a soft thud as you exhaled sharply. "I thought you were supposed to be good."

Logan pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I am," he said, his voice husky. Before you could respond, his hands slid beneath your thighs, lifting you effortlessly.

"Logan!"

"I am bein’ good," he murmured as he carried you toward the bed, the playful glint in his eyes betraying his words. "Lemme show you just how good."

You didn’t even try to argue, not when his lips found yours, and his hands settled you onto the bed like you were something precious. He kissed you again, deeper this time, and you gave up any pretense of finishing your book. Logan’s weight shifted above you, one of his hands bracing against the mattress while the other slid along your side, tracing the curve of your hip.

You arched into him, your fingers tangling in his hair as his lips traveled down your jaw, leaving a warm trail that made you shiver. “Logan,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” His lips curved into a grin against your neck, his beard scraping deliciously against your skin.

You didn’t have an answer—or at least, not one that didn’t involve him doing exactly what he was doing. His hands slid beneath the hem of your nightgown, rough fingertips tracing the sensitive skin of your thighs. Each touch was slow, deliberate, as if he wanted to memorize every inch of you.

His lips found your collarbone, then lower, teasing the edge of lace that framed your chest. You couldn’t help the soft sigh that escaped you, your hands gripping his shoulders as his fingers hooked beneath the thin straps of your nightgown, sliding them down your arms.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he said, his voice rough with affection. He kissed the curve of your shoulder, then moved lower, his lips brushing over the swell of your breast. You felt the cool air against your skin as the fabric pooled at your waist, but the warmth of his mouth more than made up for it.

You tugged at his shirt, your fingers fumbling with the hem. “Off,” you demanded softly.

Logan chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through you. “Yes, ma’am.” He sat back on his knees, peeling his shirt off in one smooth motion before tossing it aside. His broad chest, covered in a scattering of scars and dark hair, was a sight you’d never tire of. He caught the way you were looking at him and smirked. “Like what you see?”

“Always,” you admitted, your voice quieter than you intended. Your shy tone made his smirk soften into something warmer.

He leaned down, kissing you again as his hands found your hips. He tugged the rest of your nightgown away, leaving you bare beneath him. The way he looked at you made your breath hitch—like you were the only thing that mattered.

“Logan…”

“Relax, darlin’,” he said, his voice low and soothing. His hands slid down your thighs, gently spreading them apart. He settled between your legs, his lips finding your inner thigh. “Let me take care of you.”

Your breath hitched as his kisses grew closer to where you ached for him most. His hands gripped your hips firmly, keeping you in place as he pressed a kiss to the sensitive skin just above your center.

“Logan,” you gasped, your fingers clutching at the sheets.

“I’ve got you,” he promised, and then his mouth was on you, warm and insistent. Your head fell back against the pillows, a soft moan escaping your lips as he worked you with a precision that left you breathless. His tongue moved in slow, deliberate strokes, teasing and tasting in a way that had your thighs trembling around his shoulders.

“Oh, God,” you whispered, your hands flying to his hair. He hummed in response, the vibration sending shockwaves through your body.

Logan didn’t rush, taking his time as he built you higher and higher. His hands held you steady, his grip firm but not restrictive as he pushed you closer to the edge. When his tongue circled a particularly sensitive spot, your back arched off the bed, a sharp cry escaping you.

“That’s it,” he murmured, pulling back just long enough to speak before diving back in.

It didn’t take much more. With a soft, broken moan, you shattered, your body shaking as the waves of pleasure washed over you. Logan didn’t stop, his tongue and lips coaxing you through your release until you were trembling and gasping for air.

“Jesus, Logan,” you breathed, your chest rising and falling rapidly.

He grinned up at you, his beard glistening slightly. “Not done yet, darlin’.”

Before you could respond, his mouth was on you again, his tongue exploring you with renewed fervor. The overstimulation made you squirm, but Logan held you steady, his hands tightening on your hips.

“Logan, I—” Your protest dissolved into a moan as the heat began building again, faster this time. He worked you with an intensity that left you reeling, his lips and tongue driving you higher and higher until you were teetering on the edge once more. When you came again, it was with a cry that echoed through the room, your body trembling in his hands.

Logan finally pulled back, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh before crawling up the bed to join you. His lips found yours in a kiss that was equal parts tender and hungry, his hands cradling your face as if you might disappear.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice rough but filled with concern.

You nodded, your cheeks flushed and your breath still coming in short gasps. “More than okay.”

He smirked, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Good.” His eyes softened as he looked at you, a quiet intensity in his gaze. “Love you, Y/N.”

“Love you too,” you whispered, your voice shaky but sincere. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down into another kiss.

As you pulled away he whispered against your lips, “was I good?”

You let out a small giggle, one you couldn’t hold back even if you tried. “Well… I’m not readin’ anymore…”

Logan’s smirk deepened, a spark of mischief lighting his dark eyes. “Good. That book’s been hoggin’ my girl all day.” His voice dropped an octave, thick with heat as he slid a hand up your side, tracing the soft curve of your waist.

“Logan,” you murmured, a warning that lacked any real bite. Your breath hitched when his hand dipped lower, brushing the inside of your thigh.

“Darlin’,” he rumbled, leaning in close enough for his lips to graze your ear. “Been thinkin’ about this all damn day. Couldn’t stop. You sittin’ there, all serious, those glasses makin’ you look so damn sweet…” His hand shifted, cupping your jaw to tilt your face toward him. His gaze burned into yours, equal parts desire and adoration. “But we both know how not sweet you can be when I get my hands on you.”

The words sent a shiver coursing through you, your pulse racing under the intensity of his stare. Before you could summon a response, Logan kissed you, his mouth firm and demanding, the scrape of his beard adding to the delicious roughness. He kissed you like he needed to prove something, like he was desperate to remind you exactly who you were to him.

You moaned softly against his lips, your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer. The heat of his body pressed against yours, solid and unyielding, grounding you in the moment. Logan shifted, his weight settling between your legs as he deepened the kiss.

The faint scent of woodsmoke and leather clung to him, familiar and intoxicating. Your hands moved instinctively, tracing the expanse of his shoulders before dipping lower, fingers brushing along the waistband of his sweats. Logan growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your lips as he pulled back just enough to speak.

“You’re makin’ it real hard to stay good,” he murmured, his voice rough. He gripped your hips, grinding against you just enough to make your breath hitch. “Tell me to stop if you want me to.”

“Don’t stop,” you whispered, your voice trembling but sure.

Logan didn’t need to be told twice. In one fluid motion, he pushed his sweats down just enough to free himself, the thick length of him pressing against your bare skin. His hands slid beneath your thighs, lifting and spreading you further as he settled between your legs.

He paused, his brow furrowing slightly as he searched your face. “You okay, darlin’?” he asked softly, his voice a stark contrast to the heat burning in his eyes.

You nodded, reaching up to brush a hand along his jaw. “I’m more than okay.”

That was all the reassurance he needed. Logan leaned in, capturing your lips in another searing kiss as he guided himself to your entrance. He pushed forward slowly, the stretch making you gasp and clutch at his shoulders. He was careful, deliberate, giving you time to adjust as he filled you inch by inch.

“Jesus,” he muttered, his breath warm against your neck. “You feel so damn good, Y/N.”

Your fingers dug into his back, your body arching to meet his as he began to move. Each thrust was measured at first, slow and purposeful, but the restraint in him was palpable, barely holding back the raw intensity that simmered beneath the surface.

“Logan,” you breathed, your voice cracking on his name. “I—God, don’t stop.”

“Wasn’t plannin’ to,” he growled, his hips snapping forward with more force. The change in pace had you crying out, your nails raking down his back as pleasure bloomed in waves, overwhelming and all-consuming.

Logan groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he drove into you harder, deeper. “You’re mine,” he murmured against your skin, the words raw and possessive. “Always gonna be mine.”

“Yours,” you gasped, your legs wrapping around his waist to pull him closer. The new angle sent a bolt of heat through you, your body tightening around him as the pressure built. “Logan, I’m—”

“I know,” he rasped, his lips brushing your ear as he thrust harder, chasing your release. “Let go for me, darlin’. I’ve got you.”

It only took a few more strokes before you shattered, your cry muffled against his shoulder as your body clenched around him. Logan followed seconds later, his movements turning erratic as he buried himself deep inside you with a guttural groan.

For a moment, neither of you moved, your breaths mingling as you clung to each other. Logan finally lifted his head, his hand brushing a damp strand of hair from your face as he looked down at you, his expression softening.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low and tender.

You smiled, reaching up to touch his cheek. “Better than okay.”

Logan grinned, the corners of his mouth quirking upward in that familiar, boyish way that always made your heart skip a beat. “Guess I was good, then.”

You laughed softly, your chest still heaving as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down into another kiss.

that is 2011!

[nahoney22]

Liar Liar (Part 4/?)

🫧 Part Four - Meadow // <<< Part Three

🫧 Pairings: Commander Fox X Female Reader

🫧 word count: 3k

🫧Chapter Summary: When you reveal a painful memory to ‘Whisky’ after opening up to him, Fox’s deceit weighs heavily on his mind.

🫧Chapter Warnings: Safe for work, flirty messages, mentions of cheating by ex partner (gender neutral pronouns used), Fox feeling guilty, female reader wearing minimal makeup.

Hound’s words played on a loop in Fox’s mind, an unrelenting echo that refused to let him rest: “You have to tell her the truth.”

And he knew it. He really did.

What he didn’t quite understand was why it so difficult to do so.

He was a straight-talking, no-nonsense kind of Commander and had always had a deep authority that oozed from his behaviour. Yet, here he was, almost paralysed at the thought of coming clean to you. Every time he tried to imagine the words, they got tangled up in his throat, choking on the fear of what your reaction might be. Kriff, he wouldn’t even blame you if you were to sock him one.

So, instead, he sat behind his desk, arms folded and brow furrowed behind his helmet as he watched you from the corner of his eye. You were focused, lost in whatever reports Thorn had burdened you with today. But he could see the slight smile on your lips, that little curve that made his heart stumble, and it tore at him because he knew exactly why you were smiling.

You were thinking about him—or rather, you were thinking about Whisky . A man who didn’t even exist.

And that was the part that drove him crazy. He was sitting right here, a few feet away, and you were smiling because of him but didn’t even realise it.

He needed to tell you the truth. Tomorrow, when you both go on that walk. He’d lay it all out, come clean, and then… well, he’d have to deal with whatever fallout came next.

From across the room, he caught sight of Hound leaning against the wall, arms crossed and a smug grin plastered on his face. The silent message was clear: Hurry up. Rip it off like a medpatch.

Yeah, he was going to have to tell you. If not, Hound said he would.

Later that night, when everyone had retreated to earn some rest, Fox sat alone at his desk, the office bathed in the dim glow of his holoscreen. He drummed his fingers against the cold metal surface, his mind churning with anxiety.

He realised then that he’d never actually told you where to meet tomorrow. Not to mention, he certainly couldn’t use his own comm link to send you a message—it’d raise too many questions.

With a sigh, he started setting up a new comm code under the name ‘Whisky.’ It was a stupid plan, really. This entire scheme was a disaster waiting to happen. But the alternative was far worse.

As the new comm link activated, Fox hesitated, his fingers hovering over the keypad. What should he say? Should he be casual? Confident? Playful? Kriff, he wasn’t used to this.

He typed out the first message: Sorry for the late message… it’s Whisky. Just wanted to make sure you knew where to meet tomorrow.

He stared at it for a moment before quickly hitting send, his heart already hammering in his chest. It was out there now. No turning back.

Setting the device down on his desk, he ran a hand through his hair, nerves prickling under his skin and then his comm link beeped, and Fox nearly jumped out of his chair. He fumbled to pick it up, his fingers suddenly clumsy.

Hey handsome, sounds good! What should I wear?

Fox’s eyes widened, his heart pounding so hard he was sure it was echoing off the durasteel walls. Handsome. You called him handsome . Again.

He felt a dopey grin stretch across his face before he could stop it, smiling like a love-sick cadet.

He paused for a moment when he heard some shuffling outside the office, his head shot up, eyes narrowing, but it was only two shinies standing outside, whispering to each other.

One nudged the other, both peeking through one of the windows as if Fox could not obviously see him. “What do you think he’s smiling at?” one asked.

“Not a clue,” the other muttered back. “Didn’t think the Commander could even smile.”

Fox’s eyes narrowed. He could hear them, the idiots. But his annoyance was short-lived.

He quickly typed out a response: Hope I didn’t wake you, beautiful. And anything will be fine, I’m sure you’d look good in anything.

He hit send before he could overthink it, then sat back, releasing a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. When you didn’t reply immediately, he busied himself with tidying up his desk, shuffling reports that didn’t need organising because you had already done it for him. But the moment his comm beeped again, he abandoned it without a second thought.

Anything? I don’t think you’d like me showing up in my birthday suit.

Fox choked on his own breath, his cheeks burning. His fingers hovered, his mind racing with a million responses before he finally settled on one: I wouldn’t say no to that.

He hit send and immediately regretted it, his eyes widening. Had he gone too far? Was that too forward? Kriff, what was wrong with him? He was a Commander of the Coruscant Guard, for kark’s sake! He wasn’t supposed to be flustered this. 

The shinies were still outside, now watching with unabashed curiosity.

“Is he… blushing?” one asked, his voice low with disbelief.

“Nah,” the other scoffed. “He must’ve eaten something bad. Can’t be what I’m thinking.”

Fox shot a glare, his mouth twisting in irritation. He’d deal with them later. Right now, his comm buzzed again, and all his attention went right back to the screen.

Let’s see how this date tomorrow goes first, hm?

He felt his chest tighten, excitement flooding him as he read the message. Date. You called it a date.

Fox leaned back in his chair, grinning like a fool as his mind wandered to tomorrow despite the twisted anxiety.

Maybe, just maybe, this might work out after all.

⋅───⊱༺  🦊 ༻⊰───⋅

You woke up feeling excited, a fluttery sensation in your stomach that you hadn’t felt in a long time. It had been ages since you’d ventured back into the dating pool, but there was something about Whisky that just seemed worth it.

Lying in bed, you found yourself re-reading the messages from last night, your smile widening at his flirtatious replies. It felt silly, but your heart raced at his words, especially when he called you beautiful.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you jumped into the refresher, the warm water doing little to calm your nerves. You spent far too long fussing with your hair, trying out different styles before settling on one that looked effortlessly put together. Then came the makeup—just enough to accentuate your features without overdoing it.

But the real battle was deciding what to wear. The forecast predicted mild weather, so a coat was unnecessary, but it wasn’t quite warm enough for a dress or skirt. Eventually, you settled on a nice pair of trousers and a fitted top that compliments your figure just enough. You gave yourself one last look in the mirror, taking a deep breath to steady your nerves.

You could do this. It was just a date. A date with a guy who seemed charming, kind, and who—if his messages were anything to go by—knew exactly how to make you feel good.

The coordinates he sent led you to the lower levels of Coruscant. You hesitated at first, glancing around at the dim, bustling streets. It wasn’t exactly the most desirable location, but Whisky said he knew a nice spot, and… well, you wanted to trust him.

Standing at the rendezvous point, you double-checked the coordinates, just to be sure you were in the right place. As you looked up from the screen, you felt a light tap on your shoulder.

You turned and immediately felt a warmth spread through you. Whisky stood there, dressed in civvies, a hood pulled over his head that cast a faint shadow over his eyes, but his smile was unmistakable.

“Hey,” you greeted, your hands tucking behind your back shyly. “It’s good to see you.”

“And you,” he chuckled, his voice soft and warm. “For some reason, I woke up thinking you might not show.”

You pulled a face, shaking your head. “Definitely not! I’ve been looking forward to this.”

His smile widened, relief washing over his features. “In that case,” he extended his hand toward you, “shall we?”

Your heart did a little flip as you slipped your hand into his, his grip firm yet gentle. A warmth crept up your cheeks when he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the back of your hand, his lips lingering for just a moment before he looked up at you, his eyes twinkling with playful mischief.

You walked beside him, his hand still holding yours. “So,” you began, giving him a sideways glance, “where are you taking me?”

He grinned, his hood shifting as he looked over at you. “That’s a surprise.”

You arched a brow, a teasing lilt in your voice. “A surprise, huh? Should I be worried?”

“Of course not. You can trust me.”

“Can I?” you continued playfully, “you are being pretty secretive.”

There’s a glimmer of unease in your teasing but he shakes it off quickly as he looks at you, his gaze softening. “Trust me,” he repeated, his voice lower. “I promise it’s worth it.”

There was something in his tone, a sincerity that makes your chest tighten. You squeezed his hand gently, a smile playing on your lips. “Alright, I’ll trust you… for now.”

His grin returned, brighter than before. “Good. Because I think you’re going to love it.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm. “Well, if it’s half as charming as you, then I’m sure I will.”

Whisky’s cheeks warm. He looked away quickly, his fingers tightening around yours. “You’re a dangerous flirt, you know that?”

As you continued walking, at one point Whisky glanced at you and asked, “Did you eat or drink anything today?”

You blinked at the sudden change in topic but shook your head. “I was too excited. Barely managed to get my caf down before rushing out the door.”

His brows furrowed with concern. “You know, you won’t have any energy if you don’t eat.”

“I’ll be fine,” you assured him, a little giddy that he was tentative about these types of things. “Besides, I was too busy deciding what to wear.” You gave a playful twirl, letting him get a good look. “Worth the trouble?”

His gaze lingered on you, his eyes tracing your figure before he cleared his throat, “Definitely worth it.”

After navigating a few more backstreets and climbing a series of concealed staircases, you suddenly noticed that the light was getting brighter. You hadn’t realised just how many levels you’d ascended.

When you finally stepped out, you were greeted by the most breathtaking sight. It was an open expanse, a hidden meadow perched high above the bustling cityscape. Soft, green grass dances in the gentle breeze, and delicate flowers of every colour dotted the landscape. Your jaw dropped. “I… I didn’t even know a place like this existed.”

Whisky released your hand, watching your awe-struck expression with a satisfied smirk. “Told you that you could trust me.”

You turned to him, your eyes wide with wonder. “How did you even find this place?”

“Stumbled on it during an assignment,” he explained. “Got curious, went exploring, and… well, here it was.” He hesitated, his eyes flicking away. “Technically, nobody’s supposed to be here. It’s an abandoned part of the old levels. But I figured it was too beautiful to keep to myself.”

A playful smirk danced on his lips. “Besides, I’m pretty sure we won’t get caught.”

You shook your head in disbelief, a laugh bubbling from your chest. “Breaking the rules, are we?”

He grinned, a mischievous spark in his eyes. “Only a little. Worth it, though, right?”

You looked back at the meadow, the serene beauty taking your breath away. “Yeah,” you whispered, “definitely worth it.”

His expression softened as he watched you take it all in. “I knew you’d like it.”

You turned back to him, your heart thudding in your chest. “I don’t just like it, I love it. It’s like a dream.” You say in awe. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

Whisky’s smile was soft, almost shy. “You’re welcome.”

You continued walking side by side through the hidden meadow, your steps slow and leisurely as you took in the beauty around you. A gentle breeze carried the faint scent of blooming flowers. Everything about this place felt like a dream, untouched and tranquil. 

You both chatted casually, light conversations flowing easily between you. He had a knack for making you laugh, his playful remarks and teasing making you feel a type of way you hadn’t felt in a long time.

As you continued walking, you spotted a lovely patch of grass beneath a tree. The ground was soft and inviting, offering the perfect place to rest and take in the stunning view. “How about there?” you suggested, pointing to the spot.

Whisky followed your gaze and nodded, “Yeah, looks good.”

You both made your way over, settling down on the grass. You stretched out your legs, leaning back on your hands as you looked out at the expanse of green, the city’s skyline just visible in the distance. It was quiet here, peaceful, like the world had paused just for the two of you.

For a while, neither of you spoke, simply taking in the view. But as you glanced over at Whisky, you noticed a distant look in his eyes, his brow furrowed ever so slightly. There was a flicker of conflict in his gaze.

“Hey, you say softly as you nudge his shoulder, “where did you go?”

His head turned slowly, his eyes locking with yours. For a moment, he looked as if he were about to speak—really speak, to spill the truth right there and then. But the words tangled on his tongue, heavy and painful. He saw you, radiant under the sun, the light catching in your eyes as you looked at him with nothing but trust. Trust he didn’t deserve.

His chest tightened, guilt clawing at him, but his voice came out steady. “I’m just happy you came today.”

Your eyes crinkled with amusement, a bright laugh escaping your lips. “And here I thought you were going to stand me up,” you teased, stretching out and letting the sun warm your face. “This place really is beautiful. You, uh, ever brought anyone else here?”

He shook his head, a soft chuckle escaping him. “No, this can be our secret.”

You lay back fully, fingers threading through the grass as you hummed in approval. “Sounds good to me, Whisky.”

His heart clenched at the name. Whisky. Not Fox.

He swallowed hard, his fingers strumming anxiously against his thighs as the urge to tell you the truth built within him. But the words refused to come. Especially when you were looking at him like that, with a smile so genuine that it almost made him sick. 

“So,” his voice was rough, the weight of his guilt making it hard to speak. “Any prior dating history?”

You sat up slightly, giving him a playful look. “Ooh, getting personal now?”

His shoulders stiffened. For a second, he thought about backtracking, dismissing it as a joke. But then you smiled, plucking a wildflower from the ground and playing with its petals. “Nah, it’s alright. I don’t mind.”

You leaned back again, fingers toying with the flower as your eyes grew distant. “I’ve had maybe two or three partners before. Nothing serious, mostly ended as friends.” You hesitated, your smile faltering. “Except for one.”

His gaze softened as he watched your expression change. “What happened?”

“Oh you know, the usual. Promising a forever with each other for them to see someone behind my back for months.” The flower crushed under your palm, “kinda sucked.” You mutter, sucking in a deep breath as you avoid Whisky’s gaze. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice low and genuine. Without thinking, his hand reached out, resting gently on your knee. “That’s not something anyone deserves.”

You laughed, but the sound was bitter. “Yeah, well, I just wish they’d found that person when we weren’t together. Would’ve saved me a lot of heartbreak. But as long as they’re happy I guess.” 

As tears cornered the corner of your eyes, you looked away as his thumb unconsciously rubbed soothing circles against your knee. He wanted to hold you, to comfort you... but how could he? 

You quickly wiped away a stray tear, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get all emotional. It’s not fair to you.”

He shook his head, “No... don’t apologise. I asked.”

You looked at him then, your eyes searching his own from beneath his hood as if you were looking for something, anything. “I guess it just made it hard for me to trust people again.”

And just like that, the world stopped.

The words hit him like a blaster bolt, sharp and merciless. He felt his heart plummet, the weight of his lies crashing down on him like a crashing ship. 

You trusted him. 

You were opening up to him, showing him the most vulnerable parts of yourself, and he was lying straight to your face.

Whilst this felt like a dream to you, it was a nightmare for him.

His hand froze on your knee, his fingers curling into the fabric of your trousers. But oblivious to the turmoil inside him, you seem to shift your emotions effortlessly. “What about you? A handsome clone like you must’ve had some admirers, right?”

He blinked, your playful tone almost pulling him out of his thoughts. He forced a laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “Me? I usually keep to myself.”

Your brow arched, curiosity lighting up your features. “Is that a hint?”

The warmth of your gaze makes it hard to breathe. Or was it the lies laying on his chest? “Maybe… if I wasn’t enjoying the company so much.”

“Oh yeah? Even if I was just crying over an ex?”

“Even that,” he murmured, his voice soft.

His gaze lingered on you, memorising the way the sunlight danced across your features, the way your smile lit up your face. You were perfect.

Radiant.

And so painfully trusting.

While he was a liar.

🦊 Part Five Here

🦊 Liar Liar Masterlist

🦊 Stay up to date on AO3

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[thezombieprostitute]

The Arrangement - Chapter 3

Summary: Jake's done a lot of things to keep his sister, and then his niece, safe from his parent's influence and manipulation. If he wants to keep them safe, he has to marry you.

Warnings: Bad parents, Implied physical abuse. Let me know if I missed any!

Chapter 2 -- Chapter 4

Series Masterlist

You spend the car ride in silence. If your brother taught you anything about angry men it's that you don't speak to them without permission. You wince at the memories of his wrath which you saw matched in the eyes of Jake, your husband, throughout the wedding. So you keep yourself quiet and small, dreading your wedding night together.

Jake kept himself silent. He could feel your disappointment with him as your husband. You were likely plotting how to control him, make him miserable. He'd let you have the control if that's what you wanted. He can play the role as you need, or as your families need. But it was the private stuff that had him wanting to break. Would you let him play his video games? Would you constantly make fun of him, like so many others, for being himself? How much of himself will he have to sacrifice for the safety and security of his real family?

He pulls into the underground parking garage for the penthouse and parks. Not wanting to get lectured so soon, Jake is immediately out and going to open your door. He doesn't know that you only didn't open it because you weren't given permission. You step out and keep your eyes down so as not to anger him. As much as he's not looking forward to a life with a woman who drains his soul, it still hurts that you're so disappointed in him you can't even look at him.

The elevator ride is worse than the car ride. At least in the car you had buildings and people you could look at. Now it's just you and your eyes on the floor. You should be grateful he hasn't tried to touch you, but the fact that he puts as much distance between the two of you as he can speaks volumes. Jake tries making himself small in the hopes that you won't yell at him for taking up your space. The fact that you refuse to acknowledge him tells him a lot. When the doors open, Jake rushes into the entryway of the penthouse, the silence and tension was suffocating him. You hide your wince and try to make yourself smaller so you don't make him angrier at you than he clearly is.

Clay is waiting for the two of you in the entryway. He smiles, "good to know my pinto's got better speed and mobility than that fancy model they got you driving." Jake scoffs as he unlocks the door, using a keypad with the code he wants to change but knows he'll never be allowed to. Clay turns to you, "I know we were introduced earlier, but the whole thing was rather rushed. I'm Clay, Jake's boss, for lack of a better term." He holds out his hand and you shake it, you try to smile so as not to appear to be rude, but the day is weighing heavily on you.

Jake holds the door open for the two of you.

It's your first time seeing the place and you're immediately saddened by how much of it looks like your mother's tastes and preferences. It's overly crowded with useless, gaudy, overpriced things. You want to throw it all out. It's supposed to be a space for you and your husband, but it's just another reminder of how much your family still controls you. Jake groans as he looks around. Pulling out his phone, he quickly finds several "Internet of Things" devices that are easy to hack. Of course his parents would put in the fanciest refrigerators and thermostats without caring about the security risks. Jake doesn't need his refrigerator to connect to his phone, dammit!

Jake's groan makes you freeze. Clay asks, "what's wrong now?"

"I gotta do some serious cleanup for the sake of security," he grumbles. "Gotta make sure no one else actually gets to set the temperature of the thermostat, that I don't get text messages from my fridge, that my damn toaster doesn't get hacked!" He looks at you, "if that's okay with you, of course." His tone is bitter because he hates that he has to ask your permission for something so basic.

You nod, "of course." You keep your voice small, afraid of angering him any further. He really must hate you.

Clay looks at you, "how about you make yourself comfortable, little lady? I know it's your honeymoon and all, but Jake and I need to talk and who knows how long he's gonna be fixin' this internet problem y'all got."

You look to Jake but he's still on his phone so you ask, "is...is that okay with you?"

He gives you a confused look, "of course."

You make an internal note that, whatever Clay says goes. He's Jake's boss so you're best bet is to keep him happy to make Jake happy.

When you're out of sight Clay turns to Jake. "You best be gentle with that one, Jake. I think she's been through her own kind of hell."

"She's the spitting image of her mother, hasn't said a single word, can't even look me in the eye," Jake grouses. "She hates me and I'm likely going to spend the rest of my life never being good enough for her."

"I ain't so sure about that," he muses. "I get the impression she's afraid of you."

Chapter 2 -- Chapter 4

Series Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @ashdoctor; @delicatebarness;

@ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @ronearoundblindly

[sixpennydame]

dark side of the moon⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ [chapter 2]

Pairing: Yakuza!Levi x F!reader

Word count: 6.2k

Newly out of prison, Levi is thrown back into life in the yakuza.

Series Content/Warnings: mafia/yakuza AU, flashbacks, slow burn, mystery, cyberpunk, sci fi, non-binary Hange Zoe, eventual smut, dark content, graphic violence and sexual content

Author's Note: A huge thank you to my beta reader @bitchymanlet - you were such a big help through this!

next chapter/masterlist/AO3

“Inmate 012025, Ackerman. It’s time.”

With a loud thud, the heavy, titanium doors slide open, and bright light fills the small cell.

”Hands against the back wall. Make it quick.”

Levi stands up and walks to the back of his cell. With a sigh he raises his hands and presses them against the wall.

Immediately a guard grabs his arms and places them behind his back, before clicking the cold cuffs around his wrists.

“Don’t give us any trouble now, Ackerman.”

As if he would do something today, of all days.

The two guards lead him down the corridor, past all the other cell doors; Levi can feel the other inmates staring out from the tiny window on their cell door. Their eyes follow him, wild and predatory.

But Levi Ackerman had never been their prey.

One of the guards presses a code into a keypad and another heavy door opens. There’s a series of offices, all behind thick-plated, forcefield glass.  The three men move toward a desk where a woman with blue hair, deep wrinkles and uninterested eyes types in the air. With a blink of her eyes, the screen before her disappears.

”Ackerman, Levi?”

Levi nods and the woman takes a device that scans his eye, confirming his identity. 

“Hold out your right hand.”

He does so, while she scans another device over his wrist. There’s a sharp sting, and then the glowing tattoo of his inmate number - 012025 - was gone.

“That takes care of the detection device implanted inside your wrist,” she informs in a monotone voice.

Levi touches the silver button behind his left ear. “What about my cerebral comm system?” 

“It’s been completely deleted. You’ll have to have someone reactivate it.”

The woman moves to a back room and returns with a large vinyl bag.

”Here are your belongings. You can change there.” She gestures to a door just outside their office cluster. 

Levi takes the items, walks to the room and closes the door. He steps out of the grey prison jumpsuit and stands there in just his underwear, looking at the stack of clothing he hasn’t seen or felt in almost five years: a black t-shirt, black combat pants, boots, socks..

He puts on each item, and wonders if he’ll feel different - if he’ll revert back to the man he used to be before he was put behind titanium bars.

But he doesn’t feel different. He doesn’t feel….anything.

When he finishes dressing, the guards walk him to the outer gate of the prison. The forcefield comes down and Levi takes his first step outside as a free man.

”You’re late. I’ve been waiting out here for over 30 minutes,” comes a voice from behind him.

Levi turns to see a tall man with sandy brown hair leaning against a cherry red vehicle. “I thought you’d done something to get another year added to your sentence.”

”Tch, as if I had any say in what time they’d release me.”

”You look like shit.”

”Takes a piece of shit to know one.” 

Both men glare at each other, then the tall one smirks. “Good to see you again, Levi.” He pats him on the shoulder.

”You too, Farlan..” Levi replies warmly.

”Come on, let’s get you out of here.” 

The car’s engine purrs as Farlan weaves in and out of traffic. Levi is enveloped by the leather seat, the glow of the neon accents inside reflecting off of Farlan’s dark suit coat.

”Looks like you’re doing well for yourself,” Levi says.

“The last few years I’ve been managing all our legit businesses, making sure they look good on paper. At least good enough that nobody will snoop around further.”

”So you’re a paper pusher,” Levi remarks. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

”Beats fixing the books for underground gambling rings,” Farlan answers defensively. “It’s the same concept though, just a different arena. I’m suited for this.”

Farlan had always been smart. He knew how to work the angles and how to get people to let down their guard.

They’d met at the orphanage they were both put in during one of Neo Tokyo’s efforts to, “alleviate the growing population of homeless children littering the city’s streets.” Farlan had convinced Levi that his calorie bar - the only thing they received for dinner - was infested with invisible larvae and that if he gave it to him he'd get another one. Finally figuring out he’d been conned, the next day he punched Farlan in the face and took his daily ration. 

They’d been friends ever since. 

During their teenage and young adult years with the Ackerman clan, everyone knew their names. They had their hands in almost every backalley operation - from gambling to fights and everything in between.

And if Farlan had been the brains of their operation, then Levi was the brawn. Farlan could shake people down through intellect, and when that didn’t work, Levi would beat them to a pulp. Together, they were feared and respected.

They had been equals. But now, after five years, Levi felt left behind.

“So where are you taking me? I need a shower.” Levi scrunches his nose at the musty smell emanating from his clothing.

”To your apartment. I made sure they didn’t touch anything. It’s all there as you left it.”

”Probably a dusty mess…but thanks for looking after the place.”

”Wasn’t that hard. Not like you had much stuff in there.”

”…and Isabel?” Levi asks tentatively, afraid to know the answer.

”Still functioning, and still entirely devoted to you. She could barely contain her excitement today.”

Levi felt a rush of relief. He never thought he’d feel any sort of affection for an android, but Isabel was different. She was a friend and comrade, and had saved his ass on more than one occasion, stitching up his cuts and gashes from a fight or standing beside him during a back alley brawl. But he was often surprised by how human she behaved sometimes, tearing up when she’d see a dead animal on the side of the road, or stealing food to give to a needy family. 

Sometimes he thought she was more human than he was. 

The buildings grew higher and higher the closer they got to the city center, their reach seeming to pierce the orange-red sky of the late afternoon. The next thing he knew, Farlan was pulling up to his apartment building, both of them entering the elevator decorated with layers upon layers of graffiti, and finally walking down the hallway and standing in front of his apartment door. 

It was finally hitting him. He was free.

”I bought you some suits, hopefully they fit. Though you do look like you’ve bulked up a bit.”

”Not much else to do in prison but exercise. I tried to train as much as I could, too. I wanna get back into the ring.” 

“After all this, you still want to fight?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“It’s just…nevermind. Take a shower, get dressed,” Farlan hesitates. “Oyabun wants to see you this evening.”

“Oyabun…” Levi repeats, the word turning sour in his mouth. “Your professionalism is getting on my nerves. You don’t have to talk to me like I’m some new recruit.” 

“That’s who he is, Levi. He deserves our respect.”

Levi grimaces. “So Kenny’s pulling my leash already, huh?”

”Levi.. I know things were…strained between the two of you before, but he kept you protected while you were in prison.”

”Bullshit.”

”Believe what you want.” Farlan waves his hand in surrender before walking towards the door. “I’ll be back this evening.”

”Don’t bother, I can drive there myself. Where’s my bike?”

“It needed some tuning up since it’s been out of commission for so long. Isabel’s getting it ready for you.” Farlan turns to grin at his friend. “So you’re stuck with being chauffeured by me just a little longer. See you in a few hours.”

The door shuts and Levi is surrounded by silence. It’s a different sound than he’s used to; even though it’s the space he lived in for years, it feels unfamiliar and new.

His eyes scan the room; it really was exactly as he left it. Always the minimalist, his small sofa nestled in a corner across from a dining table with two chairs. No pictures, no books; the only personal item was an antique ceramic teapot and two cups.

”Petra.”

Suddenly, the lights fade up in the room, as if the apartment itself was coming to life.

”Welcome back, Levi,” the female voice resonates in the space, “it’s good to have you back. I haven’t been activated in such a long time.”

”Yeah, I’ve been…away.”

”Shall I prepare you some tea?”

”That’d be great,” Levi pulls off his shirt, “but I’d like to take a bath first.”

There’s a chime of recognition and then, “The bath water is ready. Please relax, sir.”

”Thanks.”

Levi had always felt prompted to treat Petra respectfully, even though he knew she was just an apartment AI - an assistant built into almost every home in Neo Tokyo. But it was so rare for him to hear a kind word from anyone in his life, so hearing her voice made him feel like he was being reunited with an old friend.

He takes off his clothes and turns on the shower, taking a sponge to wash away the dirt and grime from his body and hoping in some small way, that it might wash away some of the memories as well. 

But those proved harder to get rid of. He knew only time could do that.

He finally sinks into the steaming bath water and a heavy sigh escapes his lips; he can feel his muscles relaxing with the heat, years of built up tension slowly melting away. The Martians of Neo Tokyo knew what an important resource water was, but now Levi felt it in his very bones. 

Stepping out of the bath, he looked at his naked body in the mirror. He was bulkier than he was five years ago, Farlan was right about that. His lean, muscular frame, useful for street fighting and cage matches, was now replaced by more defined arms and chest; it was noticeable now, even beneath the tattoos swirling on his body. 

A giant eagle, designed in the classical Japanese style, stretched across the length and width of his back; its wings outstretched and talons out, as if attacking prey. A red moon shone from his right shoulder and clouds wrapped around his torso, swirling up his abs and around his pectoral muscles. Over his left pec was the Ackerman clan crest, the Japanese character for power, 力, encased inside a circle.

That had been his first tattoo, when he was initiated into the Ackerman clan as a teenager. That felt like an eternity ago now.

His yakuza tattoos covered many of the scars Levi had received throughout his life, but there were new scars from his years of incarceration. He collected them all like badges of honor; evidence that he’d survived another day.

He found his electric shaver and erased the light stubble growing on his face, then decided to shave his undercut again, just like he’d always had it. But this time, he kept his hair slightly longer than it had been before. He slicked it back with a comb, exposing the sharp features of his face - flawless, except for one scar running through his right eyebrow, breaking it in two and barely missing his eye.

He’d forgotten how he'd received most of his scars, but that one…

…he’d never forget that night.

Wrapping a towel around his waist, he walks to his bedroom.

”Petra, I’ll take that tea now. Green jasmine.”

”Right away,” she responds. 

As Farlan had promised, there were several suits hanging in the small closet. The yakuza were old fashioned, and clan members always preferred the look of the classic, tailored suit, in contrast to the bright and bold fashions prevalent on the streets of the city. Levi scans each one and decides on a dark navy blue suit with a white shirt. In a drawer are several ties, but he decides to forgo them and instead keeps the top two buttons undone, slightly exposing his chest tattoos that start just under his collarbone.

If Kenny wants him to wear a suit then he’ll do it his way.

He rummages through another drawer and finds his gold earring stud. The hole in his ear has grown smaller but he pushes it through, wincing just a bit as it breaks through skin. He welcomes the pain, though. Pain has always made him feel alive.

“Your tea is ready, sir.”

Levi takes the tea cup from the food preparation compartment and eases into a chair that’s facing his balcony window. How long has it been since he’s had a steaming cup? Tea wasn’t the type of contraband that could be obtained in prison, no matter what an inmate had to trade. He lifts the cup to his lips and takes a sip, breathing in the aroma.

”These are imported leaves from off-planet. Where did you get them?”

Petra blinks on. “Mr. Church wanted to make sure that you had the best for your homecoming.”

Levi’s lips turn upward into a faint smirk. 

Farlan.

He guesses his old friend can afford things like this now. No more slumming it like they did when they were kids. He’d made his way in the world, and now Levi wanted to as well.

But first things first…

He finishes his tea then grabs his suit jacket. “Petra, I’ll be back later,” he says to the room, before stepping out of his apartment and into the city streets. The sun was just starting to set, creating a copper glow to the sky as it reflected off the high rise buildings and skyscrapers. Neo Tokyoites filled the sidewalks, bustling from one place to the next, but no one drifted an eye toward Levi as he walked along the city streets - just another face in the crowd. 

The city hadn’t changed much since Levi had left it, but even if it had, he could make it to his destination with his eyes closed. He takes a right, then a left, turning into a narrow alley and scaring a cat or two before arriving at an unmarked door. 

He knocks once, a pause, then two more quick knocks.

There’s commotion on the other side of the door, as if someone is scrambling towards it. Then it bolts open.

“Aniki! I knew you’d come!”

A small red-headed young woman throws her arms around Levi’s neck, practically throwing his body across the alley. 

“See? Didn’t I tell you he’d come right away?” she boasts as she pulls him through the space Levi had once used for training. His punching bag was still there, gathering cobwebs in the corner, along with his other training equipment, but the rest of the room was now littered with electronics and various tools.

And sitting in another corner was Farlan, scrolling through his comm device as he lounged in one of the only chairs in the entire space.

“Isabel knew you wouldn’t stay in your apartment for long, so I thought I might as well just wait for you here. Saves me a trip, anyway.” Farlan smirks.

Isabel can hardly contain her excitement. “The trio is back together, just like old times!”

Old times…Levi thinks as he looks around the space. Everything - and he’s sure everyone - has changed, but it’s a relief to see that Isabel is still the same. 

Levi puts his hand on the top of her head. “Glad to see that Kenny didn’t get rid of you once I was arrested.”

“What? No way! Farlan got me out of there the moment you were busted. He’s been getting me steady work ever since, working on bikes and cars, even some augments here and there.” Her face beams, “Kenny may have thought me a useless android, but I’ve been making my own way.”

That also gave Levi some relief. Throughout these past years, he’d wondered what had become of the spunky little android he’d saved from the wrecking yard. 

Levi had always had a soft spot for things that were considered broken beyond repair. 

“Isabel, I need you to reboot my cerebral comm connection.” 

“Oh yeah, yeah, not a problem.” Isabel takes his hand again and leads him to a part of the room with a computer connected to a multitude of cables. 

Levi sits on what looks almost like an examining table, leaning his face into the light above. “You’ve got quite the set up here.”

“Since I’m not a certified augmentation android, I have to stay under the radar, so most of my clients come from Farlan or from word of mouth.” 

Isabel rolls her chair over to Levi. “Just turn your head to the right for me…” One of her small hands finds the silver button behind his left ear and with one swipe of her tool, pops it out.

 “Let’s see what I can do here..”

There’s a slight sense of pressure as Isabel sticks a cable into the port, connecting Levi to her computer. She rolls back over to her station, clicking her keyboard methodically.  

“All your contacts are still here…at least they didn’t try to wipe your memory for names and information.”

“Oh they tried,” Levi remarks, “but it didn’t work. Seems my Ackerman genes are good for more than just kicking people’s asses.”

“I bet that pissed them off,” Farlan adds, still scrolling through the air with his pointer finger as images only he can see moves across his eyes.

“Almost there..” Isabel says, intensely concentrated on her computer screen.

There’s a few more clicks of her keyboard, and then Levi feels a slight jolt of electricity through his head.

“And that should be it.” Isabel rolls back over the Levi, disconnecting him and replacing the silver button. “You should be connected to your old contact list now.”

“Thanks.” Levi pats her head again and she grins from ear to ear. 

“I’ll have your bike ready for you tomorrow.” The red-head responds while Levi gets up from the examining table. Farlan gets up, giving both of them a look that says it’s time to go. As Isabel walks them to the door she puts a tentative hand on Levi’s arm.

“Aniki…once the word is out that you’ve been released, people are going to wonder when you’ll start fighting again.” 

“That’s a good question, and one I’m about to get an answer to,” he responds. 

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

The Ackerman Clan headquarters was housed in a nondescript, four-story building, just on the outskirts of the entertainment district. The only thing that made it stand out from the other business buildings was the Ackerman crest emblazoned next to the door; no other signs were needed, and inhabitants of Neo Tokyo didn’t have to be fluent in Japanese to know its meaning…

Power. The word that’s synonymous with Ackerman.

Farlan pulls up and the door to his car lifts up automatically. “Oyabun is in his office - I assume you remember where everything is.”

“You’re not coming in.”

“Nah, not this time. Kenny wanted to meet with you privately, and I have a meeting to get to, anyway. I’ll see you later this evening.”

Levi steps out of the car, straightening his suit jacket before stepping up to the door. The moment he touches the handle the door unlocks for him.

At least he knows he hasn’t been completely shut out of the organization.

There are voices coming from the second floor - new recruits, most likely, being made to clean and prepare dinner for the evening. Levi remembered the hierarchical structure well; it was something he’d also had to go through in his teenage years. But unlike the others here, he wasn’t recruited into this clan.

It was something he was born into.

The elevator takes him to the top floor, which was reserved entirely for the clan’s leader. Levi walks through the empty reception area and knocks on the office door.

“Come in,” a low, gravelly voice answers.

Behind the door is a room split in half; the front part serving as a reception area and in the back, a broad desk surrounded by pictures of past leaders. The man behind the desk grins broadly then stands up, gesturing to Levi to come in. His face shares many of the same features as Levi: a sharp profile and even sharper eyes of a stormy grey hue. He’s taller than Levi, however, and leaner, with a powerful aura that fills the entire space.  

“Look who’s back from the dead,” he says, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Levi scoffs at the phrase, but it’s true; the last few years in prison made him feel like a corpse, a half-life that dragged on and on. In a way, he has been resurrected.

“Kenny…” he says sharply, “you wanted to see me.”

”Of course I did! It’s not every day that I can celebrate the release of my nephew from prison.” He gives Levi a once-over. “You survived with all your limbs, that’s good. And you look strong,” he frowns, “but not any taller.”

Kenny laughs at his own joke and then offers for Levi to sit, but he refuses, standing in front of the broad desk with his arms crossed. 

“And no better sense of humor either,” Kenny deadpans before sitting on the edge of his desk. “Always so serious. But no matter…let’s get right to business.”

At that, Levi finally sits, though he’s on edge and alert, not sure where this conversation might go.

Kenny walks behind his desk where a katana sword is displayed. He picks it up and slowly removes it from the sheath.

“You know, Levi, we Ackermans have been feared for our strength for generations, even before we were yakuza. This power has shaped us into what we are today. I’ve been preparing you to take on this role someday, but you’ve been a pain in my ass from the beginning: disobedient, disorderly, and headstrong. That fire in you needed to be beaten into submission.”

Light glistens off the katana as Kenny moves about the room. “I let you do those cage matches because it gave you a purpose and kept you compliant. But when you started earning huge sums of money, and weren’t paying your dues to me and your brothers - well, that just wouldn’t do.”

Kenny stands in front of Levi now, the katana held loosely at his side. “I hope your time in prison taught you a thing or two about respect, Levi. What I say, goes. Always.”

He pauses, as if expecting to get some sort of reply from Levi, but gets none.

“You were supposed to lose that match - that was the deal we’d set - not beat the humanoid within an inch of his life. You lost me an incredible amount of money, and respect from the Reiss Agency. So you needed to be taught a lesson.”

Levi’s hands ball into fists in his lap, his nails digging into his palms. He takes a deep breath before he responds. “Consider the lesson learned. When can I start fighting again?”

“Fighting?” Kenny laughs. “You think I’m gonna put you in the ring again after that stunt you pulled? Abso-fucking-lutely not. It’s time you started preparing for a bigger leadership role.”

Levi grits his teeth. He wants to grab that katana Kenny holds and slice him right down the middle. 

He could do it - he’s strong, probably stronger than Kenny now. He could do it and finally be free. 

He takes a breath. No, this isn’t the time.

Be smart…

Kenny presses a button on his desk and a few seconds later, a tall, blonde woman enters.

“Sir,” she says in a stern, serious voice.

“Levi, you remember Caven. She’s my wakagashira now.” He grins. “The title you should have had. I suppose you’ll have to usurp her someday.” Levi can tell that it gives Kenny no greater joy than to think of the two of them fighting for the role and for his approval. 

Caven’s eyes slide towards Levi, her body on edge, as if Kenny could call for them to fight any minute. Kenny laughs. “But that’s a problem for another day. Caven, introduce Levi to the new shatei - he’ll be in charge of them now.”

At that, Levi stands up. “What? I don’t want to be in charge of some brats.”

“Oh, but you will, Levi. Because what I say goes.” Kenny’s eyes darken and his voice lowers. He walks towards Levi, looking down at him, the katana still in his hand. “Got it?”

Levi looks away, wordlessly conceding to Kenny’s demand. He turns to follow Caven out of the office.

”I guess this is when I’m supposed to welcome you back,” she says coldly.

”Don’t bother. We don’t have to pretend that we like each other.”

They both walk down the stairs to the second floor. “I’m not sure what you mean, Levi. You’re my brother. We’re all family here - or did you forget that while you were in prison?” 

Levi clicks his tongue at the statement. He always thought the yakuza’s obsession with family laughable; if this was supposed to be a family, then it was the most dysfunctional one he’d ever known. 

Not that he’d really ever known anything else.

The brief times he’d ever felt the true bonds of family was when he was with Farlan and Isabel, or as a small child, when it was just him and his mother. But those years were fading from his memory with every year he grew older.

“Speaking of which,” Caven opens the door to the second floor, where there are clattering and raised voices coming from the living area.

”I told you to clean this place up!”

”I did! Why can’t we just have androids do this?”

”There are no androids here, idiot. Oyabun is against it. Now hurry up, our brothers are gonna be here soon.”

Caven pinches the bridge of nose and gives a heavy sigh. “Connie! Jean! Get out here.”

Two young men emerge from the room: one on the smaller side, with silvery grey hair and a buzz cut; the other tall and lanky, his light brown hair growing slighting over his undercut. 

They both look at each other then at Levi, mouths slightly agape. Caven clears her throat, clearly disappointed at their sudden lack of manners.

”Connie, Jean, this is Levi. He’ll be your big brother from now on and will prepare you to be a true member of the clan.”

”Levi… Ackerman…we heard all about you,” Jean says, bowing deeply. When he sees Connie still standing there staring, he pulls him down as well. “It’s an honor, sir…uh, aniki.”

They both stay in a bow and Levi shifts uncomfortably. “What am I supposed to do with them?”

”Take them around on neighborhood patrols and payment collections. You know, standard stuff.” Caven raises an eyebrow. “Unless you’ve forgotten the basics.”

Levi gives Caven a cold look, then walks over to his new younger brothers, their bodies still at a ninety degree angle. 

“Ok, that’s enough. You don’t have to bow to me.” Levi looks around the space as they stand up. “You were cleaning?”

Jean rubs the back of his head nervously. “Yeah…then we were gonna start cooking dinner after we finish this…”

Levi’s discerning eyes continue to survey the room, seeing every hairball and clump of dirt left behind. “Oh, you are nowhere near finished.” He hangs up his suit jacket. “You. Baldy.” His finger points at Connie. “Go get the mop. Jacques – ”

“...it’s Jean, sir..” 

“-- get a rag and start wiping everything down.”

“But we just cleaned —,” Connie interjects, but when Levi glances towards him, his mouth clamps shut.

“I’ll leave you all to it, then,” Caven says, sauntering away. “Good luck, you two.”

Connie and Jean immediately start their tasks. Levi rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt.

”I’m sure you’ve heard lots of things about me, but one thing you should know right now: I do not tolerate filth.”

”Yes, aniki!” They both answer.

”I’ll start on dinner prep. You two join me when you finish here.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

It’s not long until other clan members start ambling into the building for dinner. Levi hears their voices before he sees them, and the corners of his mouth curl into a slight smile.

”It smells cleaner in here! Could it be?” 

A tall man with long, blonde hair strides into the kitchen. “If it’s not the man himself! Oi! Levi’s back, everyone!”

“Pipe down, Eld, the whole damn neighborhood can hear you,” Levi chides, before shaking his hand. “Good to see you again.”

“Shit, I don’t believe my eyes. Levi!” Another man enters, patting Levi on the back generously. 

“Gunther..”

“It’s about time they let you out..” comes a lackadaisical voice from the back. Levi turns to see a third man, arms crossed, leaning against the wall, a cigarette hanging from his mouth. 

“Well you know, Oluo, I had to get back here and beat your ass back into shape.”

Eld and Gunther laugh, but Oluo frowns. “Come on, Levi, I’m a lot stronger now. You’ll see.”

Levi feels a bit uncomfortable with all this attention on him, but it’s expected; these are men he’d known since they were new recruits. He’d done jobs with them, showed them how to take a punch and even give them when needed. It’s amazing how much they’ve changed in just these few years.

He wonders what else has changed in this organization. 

“I see you’ve met the little brothers,” Eld says, grabbing Connie and putting him in a headlock.

“I’m in charge of them, actually.”

“Damn,” Oluo laughs. “Hope you two are up for it.”

“Up for what?” Jean asks.

Oluo smirks as he sits down with the others at the table. “For the daily ass beatings you’re gonna get if you don’t keep the damn place spotless.”

Everyone laughs except Connie, Jean, and Levi, who looks at his two little brothers. “They are right about that.”

Connie and Jean eat their food quietly, listening to the stories being told around the table by the others about Levi. He shifts in his chair uncomfortably; he doesn’t particularly like being talked about like he’s some history report, but he’s content enough to listen, especially as the conversation shifts to updates on the clan and its newest exploits.

Hours pass with more stories being told and alcohol being drunk, until Caven walks through the door, a serious look on her face.

“There’s been a disturbance at Club Azure. Some members of the Jaeger Clan are causing a scene and harassing the hostesses. Levi, Kenny wants you to take care of it.”

Before Levi can even respond or refuse, she’s on her way out the door, but stops, glancing at him behind her shoulder. “And take Connie and Jean with you.”

“Fucking Jaeger Clan, thinking they can mess around on our territory,” Gunther says, his hands balling into fists. “Unfortunately for them, Levi’s back.”

Without a word, Levi gets up from the table and grabs his jacket.

“Those Jaegers won’t know what hit ‘em,” Oluo adds. 

“Come on,” Levi finally says to his two brothers, who scramble away from the table and file behind him. “Let’s get this over with.”

Levi hadn’t realized how much time had gone by that evening until he stepped out into the brightly lit streets of the entertainment district. Signs flashed and holograms coaxed patrons to step inside their clubs, while drunks stumbled around them, yelling about which bar to hit up next. 

Pachinko parlors, night clubs and host and hostess bars lit up every corner of every block; and when these institutions closed in the early morning light, there was still entertainment to be found in the sex clubs and soap lands. 

And every one of them was protected by the Ackerman Clan.

“Does Hange still own Club Azure?” Levi asks as they make their way to the club, an easy walk from the clan headquarters.

“Yeah,” Jean answers, “but I’ve heard times have been tough over there.”

“Tough for a lot of the clubs these days, I heard,” Connie adds. “Members of the Jaeger Clan have been busting shit up around here recently and scaring customers away.”

Levi wants to ask more about this Jaeger Clan, but they’ve already arrived at the doors of the club. By the time the three men enter, there are raised voices amidst the smooth jazz music.

“We got ourselves a non-aug!”

Levi hears a voice say over the others. He looks over to the source of the noise and sees a man - probably no more than nineteen or twenty - being slapped by one of the hostesses.

“Don’t you touch me,” the woman says.

A few seconds later, he sees the man backhand the woman.

And that’s when something ignites in Levi.

“Stay here,” he says to Connie and Jean, wasting no time in walking toward the disturbance. The man grabs the woman’s face hard, saying something about not fucking with the Jaeger clan.

“Oi.”

From then on, Levi goes into combat mode, the rest of the world fading away as he throws the man across the room. He senses the rest of the men gathering around him; he deals with them one by one, barely breaking a sweat.

The leader reaches for a weapon in his jacket, but Levi is faster, his knife in his hand in the blink of an eye.

Even in the heat of the moment, his breathing is calm, his heartbeat is steady, and his concentration is laser focused. He feels his strength coursing through him.

The feeling of his fist against skin, his punches sending a resounding crack across the room…

This is who he is. This is what he does.

He blinks a few times when he sees them scrambling away, the room incredibly silent, until - 

“Thank you so much, um..”

You’re in front of him suddenly.

Your dress does little to hide every curve of your body, and every bit of skin that is revealed shows not a single tattoo or augmentation. He blinks a few more times to focus on your face, and it’s like time stands still. Tears have formed in the corners of your eyes, probably from the force of the blow to your cheekbone, but your eyes are still bright, undefeated. 

No longer able to hold your gaze, he gives you his name and turns away. 

Why is his heart beating so fast?

When he reaches the bar he turns around to see you being whisked off by another hostess.

“Whew! Well that was not how I wanted this evening to end.” Hange says, leaning against the bar and looking at Levi. “And when I called Caven, I had no idea you were gonna show up. I didn’t even know you were out of prison.”

“I just got out today.”

Hange laughs and pours him a drink. “I bet this wasn’t the welcome you had in mind.”

“Who’s that girl? The one that got hit.”

“That’s Luna. She just started here today. Guess you two have something in common there.”

“She’s not augmented?”

“Nope. Pure as snow. Not that I’ve ever seen snow before.” Hange pours a drink for themself and downs it in one gulp.

“Where is she from?”

“Earth… Why do you want to know so much about her?”

That breaks Levi from his concentration on you. He doesn’t answer, but instead shifts on the bar stool and takes a swig of his drink. 

“It’s natural to have those urges, Levi. You’ve been in prison for so long,” Hange’s voice has a teasing lilt.

“Fuck you, Hange.”

“Not even on a good day, Levi. But she might.” Hange gestures to the dressing room where you’ve been taken.

Wanting to get away from the conversation, Levi gulps down his drink and stands up. “I’ll take my guys and search the perimeter of the club to make sure they’ve left.”

“My hero, just like old times!” Hange yells out, as Levi and the other two walk towards the exit of the club. “Don’t be a stranger!”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

“Hange has a new girl working at Azure.”

It’s the first thing Levi says to Farlan when he picks him up the next morning. He hasn’t been able to think about much else since last night.

”You’re not usually interested in the products.”

“She’s from Earth.”

”So what?” Farlan counters.  “There’s lots of Earth refugees here; in fact, many of them work in that sweatshop Kenny has, making fake….”

”She’s not augmented. At all. Not one mark or change.”

Farlan looks up. He knows where this is going. “That’s not a rarity for Earthlings, Levi. It’s a coincidence.”

“What if it’s not?”

”What difference would it make now? What’s done is done, Levi. You can’t change the past.”

”That’s easy for you to say.”

”Look, I know you want answers, but you’re not gonna find them in some girl from Earth. You have a chance to start things over. Don’t stir shit up.”

But it was too late. Levi’s curiosity had already been piqued. His gut told him there was more to you than what you seemed, and he wanted to know what that was.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Glossary of terms:

Oyabun - title given to the leader of a yakuza group

Aniki - “older brother”, used to refer to someone who is considered a superior

Wakagashira - a lieutenant, works directly under the Oyabun

Shatei - “younger brothers”, they work under the more experienced “older brothers” (kyodai) of a yakuza clan

Pachinko Parlor - a mechanical game like pinball, used for gambling

next chapter/masterlist/AO3

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[strawb4kdior]

The One That Got Away ~

parings: vi x fem reader

tw: Enemies to Lover , Slow Burn , Modern AU

summary: you’re a high-profile thief and Vi is a relentless enforcer sworn to take you down. After a botched heist, she captures you, but instead of prison, she offers a deal—help her take down a common enemy, or rot in a cell. The tension between you is unbearable, but so is the pull.

The city never slept. Neon lights bled into the streets, the hum of late-night traffic mixing with the low murmur of a world that thrived in the shadows. You thrived in them, too.

Perched on the rooftop of a high-rise, you adjusted the sleek black gloves on your fingers and peered down at the target below—Westhall Bank, the crown jewel of Piltover’s elite. Inside was a vault filled with more than just money. Documents, ledgers, secrets—things that made powerful people nervous. Things your employer, Silco, wanted.

You weren’t just any thief; you were the best. Precision, speed, an uncanny ability to slip through cracks no one else saw. You had a reputation for being untouchable. Until tonight.

Your earpiece crackled.

"We're in position," came Sevika’s voice, low and steady. "Make it quick, Ghost."

Ghost. Your alias in the underworld. No real name, no history anyone could pin down. Just whispers of a thief who never left a trace. You smirked.

"Relax, Sev. I’ll be out before you miss me."

Sliding down the fire escape, you made your way into the building. The security system was laughably outdated, and within minutes, you bypassed the alarms, weaving through the corridors like smoke. The vault door stood before you, thick and unyielding. You pulled out a small device, attached it to the keypad, and let it do its magic.

Three minutes. That was all you needed.

Except you never got that long.

The first sign of trouble was the sudden silence in your earpiece. Sevika had gone dark. Then came the low click of a gun being cocked.

"Hands where I can see them, Ghost."

You froze. That voice. Deep, husky, laced with something dangerous.

Vi.

You turned slowly, heart pounding. She stood in the doorway, a gun aimed at you, her stance casual but unshakable. Vi—Piltover’s relentless enforcer, the one person who had chased you for years but never quite caught you.

Until now.

She was a vision in black, her tailored suit doing nothing to hide the raw power beneath. Broad shoulders, scarred knuckles flexing around the gun’s grip. Short pink hair, tousled but still effortlessly cool. And those eyes—sharp, assessing, and way too smug for your liking.

"Took you long enough," you said, forcing a smirk. "Miss me?"

Vi scoffed, stepping closer. "You talk too much. Hands behind your head, now."

You weighed your options. Fight? Not smart. Run? Impossible. You exhaled sharply and lifted your hands.

"Smart choice," she muttered.

Vi holstered her gun and grabbed your wrist, snapping on the cuffs with a little more force than necessary. You gritted your teeth at the way her fingers brushed your skin, the heat of her touch lingering.

"Let’s take a walk, thief."

The Interrogation Room

The precinct was cold, sterile. The walls felt too tight, the fluorescent lights too bright. You sat in a metal chair, cuffs still digging into your wrists, watching as Vi leaned against the desk, arms crossed.

"Y'know," you mused, "for all the years you’ve chased me, I expected a grander moment when you finally caught me. Maybe fireworks. A parade, even."

Vi tilted her head, unimpressed. "I can arrange a marching band. Want that before or after I throw your ass in prison?"

You grinned. "Depends. Are you playing the drums?"

Vi huffed a laugh, shaking her head. "You’re unbelievable."

Before you could retort, the door creaked open. A tall, suited man entered, his presence commanding. Marcus, one of the higher-ups. Corrupt as hell.

"Good work, Vi," Marcus said, his gaze flicking to you. "We’ll process her. Should be rotting in a cell by morning."

Something flickered in Vi’s eyes. She didn’t move.

You leaned back, watching her. "That doesn’t sound like a victory speech, Vi. Something wrong?"

Silence.

Then, finally, Vi sighed and rubbed a hand over her face. When she looked at you again, there was something different in her expression.

"I have a deal."

Marcus frowned. "Vi—"

"Leave," she cut him off.

Marcus scoffed but left, slamming the door behind him. You arched a brow.

"What kind of deal?"

Vi exhaled. "There’s someone worse than you out there. Someone who’s got dirt on both our people. You help me take them down, you walk free."

Your stomach tightened. You had a feeling you knew who she meant.

"And if I say no?"

Vi leaned down, so close you could feel her breath. "Then you rot in that cell."

The tension between you was unbearable. But so was the pull.

You smirked, tilting your head. "Well, well, Vi. Guess we’re working together now."

And just like that, everything changed.

[gffa]

Hello! Do you know if Jedi quarters have passcodes? I feel like what I’ve seen in Clone Wars makes it seem like they don’t. Asking for fic writing reasons.

Hi! I would say that it's up to you, as we never see a passcode being directly put in, but that it would make sense either way. When Obi-Wan goes to visit Anakin to talk to him about Padme and Clovis, he just sort of walks right in, like they're automatic doors more than that his hand was lingering near the keypad entry. But lmao Obi-Wan probably would just walk right into Anakin's quarters and Anakin does the same to his. But when Anakin goes to talk to Barriss, he waits outside the door until she calls out, "Enter." and we can see there's a device by the side of the door on the inside of the room. When he throws her out of the room, we can see there's a similar device next to the door on the outside of whoever's quarters are opposite hers:

It doesn't look like it has a keypad to input a passcode, but it's also super expensive to animate stuff like that when you don't have a direct need for it, so it's up to you! Is it a simply animated keypad? A touch screen for fingerprints? Just a simple doorbell chime? Is it currently unlocked because she's up and around, but she would lock it while she's away? Any of them will work! (And if I'm missing a scene, feel free to chime in!) I also can't find it again, but I swear there was a scene in an episode of TCW where the Jedi had locks that were only able to be opened with the Force, that the Jedi had to hold their hand up to it and concentrate on moving the pieces around inside the door and there was no way to do it from outside, which I've always loved as another idea for how they lock their doors.

[neysaadept]

Prometheus Chapter 13

Emily Prentiss x Female CIA Reader

Chapter 13 - Chasing After You

Tags: Swearing, canon typical violence, panic attack, drinking, mentions of grooming, drugs, arson, juvenile detention, breast mutilation, incest, and underage prostitution. No beta reader, mistakes are all me. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 7.5k

AO3

… Desperate for changing Starving for truth I'm closer to where I started I'm chasing after you

Hanging by a Moment - Lifehouse

You haven’t changed out of your sleep clothes or done your morning routine as you sit on the edge of the bed next to the open black duffel bag on Saturday morning. There is a navy-blue sweatshirt sleeve hanging off the side with drumsticks peeking out. Everything else was safely nestled inside except for the phone in your hand that you were staring at as if willing the device to magically alert you to a response about your text message.

Alpha sent 0534: I think I’m fucked.

You couldn’t talk to anyone at the BAU about your hot and cold relationship with Emily because it would get back to her for sure. The team sucks at keeping personal secrets that don’t affect national security or involving a case. Rebecca wasn’t an option either. She may have been your partner in crime with the fake dating prank, but she’s with Tara and that goes back to the first group of individuals you’re trying to keep this from. Brian was out. No way were you going to drop this bombshell after decades of being a lone wolf of you willingly flirting with the section chief and it being clear that awkward night was affecting your working relationship. He already has his suspicions on your drunken behavior because you are the master of not letting your guard down. And you did.

“Come on,” you urge down at your phone and look at the time shift to 0559.

You’re about to give up when the chime went off that you received a message. Eagerly, you open the message and smile.

Charlie sent 0559: And what did we do this time? 😊

Alpha sent 0603: You promise to not tease me?

Charlie sent 0604: I can make no promises, love.

Alpha sent 0604: 😡

Alpha sent 0605: PLEASE

Charlie sent 0605: Wow. This IS serious. What is going on?

Charlie sent 0605: And if it is something with the mission Brian got your back.

Alpha sent 0606: Not about current assignment.

Charlie sent 0607: 😮

Charlie sent 0607: OK that is a first.

Charlie sent 0607: What is wrong? How can I help?

You pause typing there because now comes the hard part – admitting you are capable of having amorous feelings towards another woman. You press your lips tightly together and fumble with the keypad, typing and deleting your message several times. Then you hang your head when you finally send it with a fiercely beating heart full of fright.

Alpha sent 0612: I really like someone. A lot.

The phone immediately rings and you laugh because it was expected. You answer it while scooting back against the headboard with your legs stretched outwards. You had been hunched over for so long your muscles were screaming in stiffness which makes you grunt against the receiver.

“Woman you tell me everything right now because I am not believing you!”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, overwhelmed at admitting this. “Comes as a big fucking surprise to me, too.” You narrow your eyes. “Do you know what I’m doing now?”

“Clearly not the woman that stole your heart.”

You blush hotly and cover your face. “Dude, just … just stop.”

She cackles over the phone. “I have to tease my baby sister that she has a crush.”

“Oh my god, I am not twelve. Stop talking like I’m a child.” But that made you glower into your lap, bringing your mind back to the argument with Prentiss.

“Ouch. That hit a nerve.”

“Yeah, sorry. It’s not you. It’s the whole fucking situation.”

“Okay. So, fill me in. And no, Brian hasn’t told me or Echo anything about what you’ve been up to.”

You fill her in on everything regarding Rebecca Wilson’s big favor, working with the BAU as a consultant, the stipend, and all about Section Chief Emily Prentiss. The first rocky week of your partnership, drinks at Buddy’s, making amends with a desk, Diet Coke, and working assignments together. Then you go into explicit details of Emily coming to your unit and collecting you for a girl’s night, the drunken ride home, and the inexplicable attraction that kept you standing there helpless before forcing yourself to move towards your building. And, of course, yesterday’s fight.

“Wow,” she says in amazement, but joy is heard there, too. “I never thought I’d live to see this day.”

“You’re not kidding.” You sigh into the receiver. “It’s so easy. Working with Emily. Being around Emily. It was nice, too. Finding that with someone outside of the fucking CIA and our little group,” you confess soberly. “Then it all got ruined because I’m a dumbass.”

“You’re not a dumbass for having feelings.”

“Yes, I am. I’m not supposed to have them because I’m incapable of having them. And now they’ve fucked up my friendship with her because now I have them. Which only furthers proves I’m a fucking idiot.” You slam your fist against the bedspread and growl in frustration at yourself. “She completely hates me now.”

“You’re only human. And honestly? This just shows how far you’ve come. And no, I sincerely doubt she hates you. You said the fight didn’t escalate like before, right?”

You bounce your head against the headboard lightly in rhythm to think and then stop when you speak up again. “No. It was … rather tame considering.”

“Right. So obviously she isn’t that upset.”

“Then I made her uncomfortable.”

“You made the Emily Prentiss uncomfortable? Girl, get over yourself.” She laughs and you can’t help joining in.

“Okay, point. But she’s obviously affected by what I said without directly coming out and saying it.”

“Yeah, and?”

“And, what?” you ask, puzzled.

“Fucking go talk to her.”

You freeze, feeling all the blood drain from your face and speak with a shaky face. “Uh, yeah. No. Can’t do that.”

“And why not?”

“Because I’m always gonna be two triggers away from becoming a sociopath and she doesn’t need someone like me in her life!” you yell, white knuckling the phone.

“Oh, sweetie. We’re all wired this way. I bet Prentiss is, too. Some just got it worse than others, like you, but even we deserve happiness. You’re long overdue for some.”

She waits for you to get ahold of your ragged breathing that she hears pounding against the other end. You put the phone down and collect yourself, running a hand through your hair and realize that your once comfortable position sitting against the headboard had become you hugging knees to your chest. You roll your head back and forth and begin the familiar pattern of breathing and holding your breaths in fours. With each successful round of grounding, your limbs loosen and fall to the bed. Your neck cracks and stretches the tension away until finally, tight shoulders drop.

You’re back and you bring the phone to your ear knowing Charlie is waiting for you.

“Better?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Now let’s start over and talk about why you deserve this chance and then you can see how you feel about it and make a decision.”

“Damn it,” mutters Rebecca looking at her phone. She’s cozied up against Tara’s side on the couch at her girlfriend’s home.

They wanted to have a quiet night in, but the two of them thought it would a good idea to invite you over to join them. Also, Rebecca hadn’t had a chance to see you since the dinner awhile back and she was missing you. They were waiting for your response but had started on the wine without you.

Tara looked up to respond with a questioning gaze. “What’s wrong?”

“She said no,” Rebecca responded frumpily and tossed her phone down by the furthest cushion. “I really thought she’d come.”

“I’m not,” Tara states emphatically without thinking before taking a sip from the wine glass. They had chosen a cabernet sauvignon to have while watching the movie Till, and the bottle was ready for refills on the coffee table.

Rebecca’s head snaps at Tara with much curiosity. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Tara stopped in mid-sip realizing she was in trouble. “Uh …”

“Don’t uuuuuh me.” She pries the drink from Tara’s hand and sets in on the table. “What’s going on with her that I don’t know because last time I remember, I was her friend first. Which means, I’m on a need to know basis on what you clowns at the BAU have done to her.”

“Hey! What makes you think it’s us?” Tara declared with a tinge of hurt.

“Who else could it be?” she retorts with confidence and goes into lawyer mode. “The only variable that’s changed with her since I’ve known her is working as an FBI consultant with the BAU. And I know your track record with drama. So, please tell the jury who else has upset Agent Whitlock. And remember,” she pauses to bop Tara’s nose with a fingertip, “you’re under oath.”

Tara playfully tries to bite Rebecca’s finger as she pulls away which makes them smile adoringly towards one another. It makes Tara sigh with a roll of her eyes. “It’s not technically the BAU.”

Rebecca raises an unamused brow, but Tara holds up a hand to halt the retort. “I’m serious.” She rocks her head back and forth on how to phrase this. “It’s really just the … section chief of the BAU.”

That makes her brows furrow in defensiveness. “What the hell did Prentiss do?”

Tara leans with a huff. “It’s a long story.”

She takes the remote and pauses the movie. “Girl, I’ve got all night for you to convince me not to tear Prentiss a new asshole. You better get talking.”

User45125 sent 0924: Before we get to that, need assurances. 

FlamePit23 sent 0945: Like what?

User45125 sent 0955: Need a favor done. And if done right, we can go ahead with your present.

FlamePit23 sent 0956: What kind of favor?

User45125 sent 0956: Not here. Want to talk. You game?

FlamePit23 sent 0957: I am.

User45125 sent 0959: Let me take care of some things on my end and I’ll let you know.

FlamePit23 sent 1000: Try not to have too much fun without me.

User45125 sent 1001: Wouldn’t think of it.

FlamePit23: sent 1002: Good. Talk soon.

This conversation happened during the day at the BAU where Prentiss and Garcia could watch the exchange in real time. Soon as you got the first text, you fired off one to Prentiss and Garcia to meet you in Penelope’s lair.

“Good work, my beloved cutie. You’ve gotten one step closer at snagging Spiderboy,” exclaims Penelope giving you a bright smile.

“Thanks.” You nod appreciatively. “Need to be careful though. He sniffs even an ounce of deceit; this plan is fucked.”

“Agreed.” Prentiss remains passive, focusing on the screen. You two haven’t shared a single word that wasn’t work related which was fine by you. “Let’s go over your cover.”

Penelope cracks her knuckles and brings up the digital creation for you. “Meet Nikole Wade – forty-three-year-old woman who barely graduated High School with a 2.0 GPA at Graves County in Mayfield, KY. She has a lovely rap sheet of violence and arson that has landed her in juvie several times because of her abusive father, Liam Wade. Thankfully he tragically died by slamming into a tree because he had a heart attack while driving his truck. Backstory, he was addicted to alcohol and cocaine. Mama Katie Wade in her infinite wisdom, thought she could groom her daughter for prostitution to pay the numerous bills. That’s when Nikole’s penchant for fire starting came to fruition and burned down the house, along with her mother. It was ruled an accident because mommy dearest had too much to drink and kept the stove on. Nikole ends up working a lot of retail jobs and is currently a cashier at the Food City grocery store in Gatlinburg, TN.”

“This fits with the whole nurturing angle that FlamePit23 has on her profile,” you continue. “And with a history like this, it explains her antisocial tendencies and denying friendships. We theorize by previous posts that the user came to this forum to gain new insights into what other arsonists are doing to keep their habits going without getting caught. Then ends up disgusted with how many wannabees there are playing pretend.”

“And this corroborates Green’s explanation of how Sicarius weeded through the users for those individuals that were legit. FlamePit being one of them,” Prentiss surmises.

“Exactly.” Penelope brings up a picture of you digitally altered to look like a teen during the juvie years of your story. “Isn’t she cute!”

Your head drops as you sigh. “You won’t let that go.”

“I will not. Not unless you show me an actual picture of teenage you to dispute your cuteness.”

“You know I can’t do that,” you plead while turning your head to look at her.

“Therefore, you are cute!” Penelope grins with a scrunched nose.

“Both of you focus,” Prentiss snaps, which got both of yours attention. And here you thought she would remain neutral but here comes bitch mode. “What have you done to make Sicarius believe this?”

Penelope’s wide eyes return to normal after being scolded. “Ah, well, the usual. High school records, a sealed juvenile record, uh … different places she’s worked, social security cards, birth certificates. A few police reports and articles about the crash and fire. If he somehow goes deeper than that, we’ll … we’re screwed.”

“But really, a person like Nikole Wade isn’t gonna have a lot to find since she’s kept to herself since becoming of age. I’ve already studied unsolved arsons in the Kentucky and Tennessee area that I can use for a resume in case he questions me,” you add. “Honestly, this is as good as it’s gonna get, Prentiss. Not unless you want me to do an entire photoshoot for new material.”

She heard the roughness in your tone in response to her impatience. She really couldn’t blame you and rises from her seat. “Alright. Let me know when he schedules the call. Until then, I’ll be in my office.”

“Oh, okay, Emily …” Penelope starts talking but Prentiss already was on the move and didn’t make eye contact with either of you. The door closes and she ends up waving to the door. “Bye!”

You roll your eyes at Prentiss’ childish behavior. “Anyway, I should probably get back to my desk since we’re good here.”

Penelope wants to say something so bad, but she can’t. She just can’t! No matter how much she wants to interfere and smack yours and Emily’s heads together to get a clue. Her, Tara and JJ all promised to not tell you anything.

So instead, she nods with agreement. “Yep! Those nasty reports can’t write themselves.”

Two days and there was no further contact from Sicarius, thus the BAU was business as usual writing up reports, analyzing data, and piecing together information to connect the victims in the shipping container to the missing persons. Tara has provided closure to three families. Penelope has made your cover identity as airtight as she possible can with the cyber crime division and what made Prentiss exceptionally happy? That Bailey had nothing to say about any of their work because the expenses were paid for and Director Korogoth’s glowing report of the BAU’s work in Idaho with your expertise made the AG extremely happy. She saw the benefit of Rebecca’s involvement of you, which also made Director Madison happy. The BAU was coming out ahead all thanks to collaborative efforts of you and the BAU.

What personally sucked was the lack of resolution between the two of you. She hadn’t even devised a solution to the problem she, once again, created so the only option was to avoid anything social with you. Admittedly her anxiety over the situation spilled over to impatience with snappish responses to any frivolity in the unit. At least she was consistently bitchy instead of her previous singular agenda against you. What weighed on her mind were things growing more awkward as she dragged out clearing the air with you.

“Hey, Em? Got a sec?”

She looks up from the opened file from New Mexico to address JJ. “Yeah. Come on in.”

JJ closes the door which puts Emily on alert. “Is everything okay?”

“Well, that depends.” JJ takes a seat across from Emily with purpose.

Emily speaks cautiously. “Oh what …”

“On why you haven’t talked with Whitlock yet,” she accuses.

She closed the file forcefully and was defiant. “JJ, I’m in no mood for this right now.”

JJ’s brows raise in disagreement. “Ah, well. Guess what? We’re talking because your mood sucks around here and it’s getting really old, really quick.”

“Are you seriously reprimanding me?” Emily challenged.

“Ah, yeah. Clearly, I am.” She frowns. “You need to talk to someone about it. Why not me?”

Emily starts to respond but doesn’t know how to start, leaving her mouth hanging open. JJ is patient since she sees that she is trying.

“You were right, JJ,” she admits with a long face. “I fucked up.”

“How did you fuck up?” she probed gently.

“Nina … is her mandated psychiatrist.”

Blue eyes look hard at Emily to interpret why this news unsettled her. All of them had mandated therapy sessions at several points in their careers, and now she knew who Nina was. Which wasn’t a woman in competition with her for your affections. “Okay. How is this bad?”

Emily licks her upper teeth as if there was a bad taste in her mouth before holding JJ’s gaze. “Because … I didn’t do as you suggested. And because of that we had another disagreement here in my office. Oh, stop that!” Emily scolds JJ dubious look. “It wasn’t like before. Tempers weren’t so heightened. But …”

JJ leaned in closer waiting for a continuation that never comes. She speaks up, coaxing her friend to keep going. “But what, Emily?”

With a sigh, Emily shrinks back into her chair to avoid eye contact. “Because I didn’t ask her who Nina was like you suggested. Instead, I learned it because she took a call from Nina.”

JJ winces. “Ouch.”

She points emphatically to her. “Exactly.”

“Well, it’s still salvageable,” JJ suggests furrowing her brows with concentration.

“I’ve messed up twice, JJ.” She holds up two fingers for emphasis. “Twice. I’m not willing to gamble the third times the charm.”

“Okay, if you want to be technical, you’ve already messed up three times if you could the first week you worked together with her,” offers JJ with a glint in her eyes. “So, fourth time’s the charm?”

Emily response was crossing her arms over her chest.

“Okay, yeah. Not funny,” JJ agreed, but she wasn’t going to give up on Emily. “You’re gonna have to work together for awhile still. You might as well be honest and apologize to smooth things over.”

“She’s too smart to take just the apology, JJ. She’ll want a reason.”

JJ shrugs. “So, tell her the reason.”

“Tell her she hit on me in Russian?” she scoffs at that. “Like she’ll believe me. She obviously doesn’t remember what happened. And after my behavior, you really think she’ll take my word? Or hell, really anything I have to say?” She looks guilty at JJ. “I really laid into her about the last case. About her call in the field.”

JJ knows how ugly that can get and is sympathetic for you. “Remember what I said when we were discussing this before?”

“That I basically suck at relationships.”

“True, but you needing more information is what I was going for,” she reminds Emily. “I think that if you don’t resolve what is, and isn’t, going on with you and Whitlock, this is just gonna keep escalating further until you have a real blow up. Professionally, that won’t be good and could get someone seriously hurt … or killed.”

She nodded thoughtfully at that, knowing JJ was right. “And what about personally?”

“Oh, that’s simple.”

Emily looked at JJ who was sitting eagerly at the edge of the chair. “Yeah?”

“Mhm. I want you to be happy and I really think that if you clear up this misunderstanding, you’ll get that chance.”

The case officially came that evening once logistics were ironed out. Penelope sent out the ‘Avengers Assemble’ text to the team on Prentiss’ behalf and that night you took the jet to Albuquerque, NM. A series of disappearances occurred at different campsites where the victim’s cars were left at NomadLand and Enchanted Trails RV park. Word is the victims stopped there for directions and never made it back to their vehicles. Both families called in a missing person report. Two weeks later, a couple of dirt bike riders found the bodies of the missing women off an OHV* trail by Goose Lake. It was roughly a four-hour drive from Albuquerque. The bodies of the women were found naked with signs of sexual abuse and breast mutilation.

You, Rossi and Prentiss were working with Albuquerque detectives on the geographical profile and pouring over cases that may have been missed similar to the current one. Lewis was interviewing family and witnesses while Alvez and JJ were investigating the dump site and talking to the rider that found the bodies.

By the weekend you had the profile of a twenty to thirty-year-old male who not only wants power over his victims by assaulting them, but also expressing deeply rooted anger by disfiguring the victim’s breasts. It more than likely stems from psychology trauma inflicted upon his mother or another female authoritative figure. As the victims were both similar in appearance and age, they suspect a Hispanic unsub.

That brings you to Gabriel Arellano, a thirty-three year old out of Farmington, NM, a city three hours northwest of Santa Fe. He and his three brothers were raised by their single mother, Elisa Arellano. Several calls to CYFD* were made on the children’s behalf, due to Elisa’s drug and alcohol habits and eventually the children were taken away from her and they were put into the foster care system. Once Gabriel finished High School, he made it his mission to raise his siblings, but no one was aware of the sexual abuse his mother unleashed upon him when she was high and intoxicated.

That inner rage was tempered to protect his brothers, making sure that Elisa only abused him. By researching similar kidnappings, the BAU were able to determine that Gabriel’s killings started once his youngest brother, Ricardo, moved out of their shared apartment. Once alone, Gabriel no longer was focused with family obligations and was triggered by seeing a woman that resembled his mother at a construction job per Garcia’s digging. That disappearance happened six years ago. Paula Sanchez’s body was found outside of the Navajo Nation reservation, strangled, raped, and had bite marks on her breasts, focusing on the nipples. He has slowly escalated since.

State PD had issued an APB* on Arellano’s silver 2002 Dodge Charger as he was lying low since the news broke of his involvement. Law enforcement was confident he was still in state but had collaborated with surrounding states to monitor highways for people matching his description and vehicle.

After a lead on Arellano’s whereabouts turned up cold by a Circle K in Hatch, NM, you were driving back to the hotel in Albuquerque. The ride was under three hours and since it wasn’t hot this time of year, you had the window down enjoying the fresh air with classic rock playing. Prentiss was in the passenger seat checking her phone and Rossi was well aware of the tension between the two of you. Tension that had been building over the last week. Emily’s cold behavior had resurfaced after drinks last Friday night and was avoiding you at work as much as possible. Prior to that, the two of you had an easy working relationship and conversation. You sometimes took lunch together in Emily’s office. That came to a sudden halt on Monday.

He glances between the two of you and smiles. “Pretty chilly up front.”

You have your Ray-Ban’s on, so he didn’t notice you looking up at the rearview mirror. He has this knowing smirk on his face and your stomach sinks. You pray he says nothing. Emily doesn’t even acknowledge him.

“Alright. How about this.” He folds his hands atop his jacket. “Mind telling me what’s going on with you two?”

Prentiss keeps scrolling on her phone but not she’s on edge. Or at least was doing a good job pretending. You shrug. “I’d say I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about but clearly that won’t work.”

Rossi half smirks with a chuckle. “The trials and tribulations of working with profilers.”

Prentiss half snorts as you bit your lower lip in thought. You did not want to have this conversation right now with Rossi present. Or really, at all. You’re still mad at Emily.

He starts tapping his thumbs together thoughtfully as neither you or Prentiss comment further. “Come on, ladies. Something’s clearing bothering the two of you.” He pauses patiently. “What happened?”

“Nothing to concern yourself with Papa Rossi,” you dismiss with a half-smile that Prentiss catches.

“Oh, god. That was fucking terrible, Whitlock,” Emily noted with a huff.

Rossi was happy you two were talking but he didn’t understand what happened. “What was terrible?”

“Dave, seriously? You don’t hear it?” Emily says partially annoyed, but you note a hint of amusement.

He’s baffled. “Hear what?”

“Papa Rossi.” You say again and he looks blankly at you still not understanding the joke. “It’s like … paparazzi ya big fancy famous writer man.”

“Ooooh!” His head rocks back as he laughs just as a silver Dodge Camaro passes your SUV on the other side of the two-way highway.

You looked at Prentiss who was looking at you. Dave was laughing cluelessly. There was only one way to find out if this was your guy and that was to go after the driver. You share a nod with Prentiss and suddenly turn the SUV around for U-turn. This wasn’t the first time you’ve done this and purposefully go off roading for a second to even out the car so you don’t tip over. You thank fed tires for being strong enough to not get stuck in the sand.

“Whoa!” Dave exclaims while grabbing onto the headrest of the passenger seat and the door handle. “What the hell Whitlock?!”

“Camaro that matches the description of our unsub just drove past us,” informs Emily as you start back on the main road to catch up.

“On it,” says Rossi, making a call to the New Mexico State Police.

You work the controls under the automatic gear shift to put in a call to Penelope. The car was synched up to your phone by Bluetooth that was secured on a handsfree mount on the dashboard next to the dash camera.

Her face appears on screen. “Hello my lovelies. What’s up?”

Prentiss speaks up first. “Access the dash cam. We need to ID the car in front of us. Might be our unsub.” And as she finishes saying that the Camaro starts burning rubber and speeds off. “Which has now elevated to probably our unsub,” Prentiss updates.

“Doubt they’re running from a ticket,” Rossi says while announcing different markers on the side of the road so state troopers could intercept.

You hit the accelerator and chase after them. “I need real time reports of traffic. We haven’t seen much but in case this gets messy, I don’t want any civilian injuries.”

“Done and done! Oh yeah … uh, that’s our guy. Plate matches.”

Rossi takes over relaying that information. “We have confirmation that we’re in pursuit of the suspect’s vehicle. New Mexico Plate Tango Charlie One Eight Nine Nine.”

“Wait. You’re driving crazy with Dave in there?”

“Well, yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?” You ask while Penelope brings real time traffic for you as requested on your display.

“Dave you be careful!”

“I’m the one driving, Pen. Shouldn’t you be telling me to be careful?”

“She’s saying I’m old and don’t have a heart attack,” he says for clarification.

“Don’t worry, Queen Penelope,” you say quickly as you close the distance going ninety and climbing. “I’ve got this.”

“Uh, Queen Penelope?”

You hear the guilt in her voice and call her out on it. “Yeah. Why’s that weird? You are the Black Queen.”

“Right! I’m the Black Queen, hence why you’re addressing me as my sovereign title.” And not because of the chat title she gave herself in the secret chat group she made to discuss two of her favorite people she was staring at during a high speed chase.

“Why you acting weird?” you ask, watching the display and the road ahead of you. There are miles of desert in this area and rest stops. So far, the lack of traffic is on your side.

“Why are you?” Penelope says defensively without meaning to.

“Yeah … no. We’re revisiting this later but right now I need to focus.” You cross the solid yellow line into the opposite lane.

“What are you doing?” Prentiss wonders cautiously.

“Gonna say hi.”

Even Rossi was dumbfounded by this. “Say … hi?”

“Yep.” You speed up and follow alongside the Camaro and see Gabriel is white knuckling the steering wheel.

“Well, that’s definitely our guy.” Prentiss confirms and Rossi relays that information to dispatch as well. What she wasn’t expecting is you waving at the suspect. “What on earth are you doing?”

“I told you; I wanted to say hi.” You see Gabriel meet your gaze and watch his brows raise above the sunglasses in what had to be shock. You then grab Prentiss’ lanyard and hold it up. “Tell him to pull over.”

“I just … I don’t even know what to think about you right now.” Prentiss is exasperated and snatches her ID back as Rossi busts out laughing. “Dave! This is not funny.”

“Actually, it’s quite hilarious and technically by the book.” Dave starts explaining to dispatch what was so funny and then frowns noticing movement in the car. “Oh, looks like he’s reaching for something.”

“Probably a gun,” sighs Prentiss. “It’s always a gun. They can never go quietly.”

“Yep, there it is,” you announce, seeing the flash of metal in the desert sun. “Just needed confirmation.” Then you hit the brakes to confuse Arellano and end up behind the vehicle once more.

Dave was hanging on to dear life and almost dropped his phone. “Warn me next time!”

“OH MY GOD YOU ALMOST KILLED DAVE!” Penelope shrieks over the connection.

“I’m not killing anyone! God. You all need to trust me that I know what I’m doing. And thanks for asking if me and Emily are okay, too,” you bark and straighten out the car.

You both zoom past a small gas station leaving a trail of dust behind and as far as you could tell, the road was continued to be clear, and police were still enroute. You had no visuals either way and it was time to change that. “Pen, we’re still alone out here, right?”

“Ah, yes. No civies and police are about ten minutes away from catching up.”

You surmise that if this goes the way it will, either troopers will open fire on the vehicle and end up killing Arellano, set up tire spikes and have you back off but that would alert him that something was up. You’re aggressively tailing him. There’s also the chance they’ll try and barricade him, and he’ll just slam through it and possibly kill someone.

You keep your eyes up ahead and see Arellano poking his head out to open fire several rounds. You swerve out of the way, rocking everyone inside as tires hit desert sand before pulling the car back onto the pavement. At least he only had a handgun he was currently using, though there may be other weapons in the car, but you make your decision.

“You trust me?” you ask, turning to Prentiss.

Without hesitation, she nods firmly. “I do.”

“Shoot the back right tire after I get him to open fire again. With him distracted, I’m hoping he spins …”

“… off the road. The sand should slow him. Car like that’s not made for driving on sand for too long.”

“And then we surround the car to arrest him while he’s in shock,” finishes Dave.

You hit the accelerator and come up to his right, off roading until you catch up to him as Emily rolls down her window. Emily had her gun hidden from view, but the safety was off and ready to go once you gave her the opening.

You nod your head up and salute Arellano with a cocky grin, which pisses him off after he realizes you were right there again. He quickly points the gun at you. You hit the brake while easing off the accelerator, so all Arellano shot was the passenger window, shattering glass pieces everywhere where you now weren’t. You veer back onto the road, the car’s suspension taking the brunt of force for changing terrain so quickly. You saw how frantic Arellano was trying to control the steering wheel and with you keeping him off guard, it left him open for Prentiss who was already leaning out the window and lining up a shot.

She fires one round into the back right tire as planned and immediately you slow down to bring the car around to the left to avoid impact. The tire blows out with a bang and since Arellano was pulling the steering wheel down to the right, the car spins out in a three-sixty once and diverges off the road. In a panic, Arellano hits the accelerator, kicking up sand and with the loss of traction, ends up spinning his good back wheel deeper into soft sand. He was stuck.

Before he could make a decision on what to do next, you already pulled up alongside his car and put it in park to allow Rossi and Prentiss out. They quickly take sides, pointing their guns at him from both front windows.

Rossi was on the passenger side and saw that in the chaos, Arellano lost his gun. The 9mm was laying on the floor mat of the passenger side.

Rossi tsks as he tries to go for it. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Arellano slowly raises his hands, glaring at Rossi with crooked sunglasses. Prentiss keeps the gun training on him while opening the driver’s side. “And you are under arrest Mr. Arellano. Let me list off all the reasons why …”

You were leaning against the SUV with arms crossed watching the state troopers take custody of Arellano from Rossi. It just made sense to wait and hand him off to local authorities, and it was one less thing the BAU had to do. The rest of the team would meet you in the police station in Albuquerque and start the paperwork to tie the case up with a bow for the district attorney.

You became distracted by the sound of the tow truck the troopers called in to take the Camaro. The driver was just finishing attaching the tow hook under the front bumper when you felt another presence join you against the car. You know it was Prentiss, but you honestly had nothing to say to her. Nope. Not even if she still trusted you in the field. Not that it almost made the fight you had in her office sting less.

Emily has her hands tucked into her front pants pockets and watches the car being pulled up the ramp with you. “Your driving was incredible,” she states delicately, testing the waters.

“Thanks.” You then add as an afterthought. “Nice shot.”

“Thanks.”

Silence ensues as you both watch the driver secure the Camaro. You really just want her to go and end this awkwardness, but Prentiss’ stubborn ass is still there.

You hear Emily shift beside you and then a thud. You finally dare to look at her and see her gazing up towards the sky. Silver grey hair was tousled against her shoulders and the car since there was no time for her to put it in a ponytail. Everything happened so fast as the three of you were not prepared for an actionable situation. She looks even more beautiful.

You resist the urge to restart the conversation despite wanting to know what’s on her mind, so you look across the scene and see Rossi looking back at the two of you. He smirks and just walks away and thus, takes away your way out.

Ugh.

“I need to apologize again,” admits Prentiss with a soft voice that takes you by surprise.

You tilt your head slightly while raising your brow. “Won’t hear me arguing.”

She nods. “I deserve that.” You watch her swallow; your eyes dragging along her neck and enjoy the view far too much for your liking before Emily moves her head to catch your gaze. “I am sorry. For the misunderstanding in my office.”

Your eyes squint and give no indication to her if you accept. You need more information. “But why was there one? I mean, I get being miffed that I did my own thing …”

“Miffed?” she questions while cutting you off.

“Put out. Angry. Asserting dominance by being a bitch.” You shrug nonchalantly but Emily heard the underlying hurt in your voice. “Miffed’s being nice, chief.”

“Oh … don’t do that,” Emily says with disappointment.

“Do what?” You know what you did.

“Be all formal like that.”

“Well, I thought we were past all that, but you pulled rank on me.” You didn’t hide the hurt in your voice as you challenged her. “That was Section Chief Prentiss getting pissy with me, so I figured I need to address you that way from now on.”

“But that’s not what I want,” she reveals quickly and that made you pause once your eyes meet brown ones. In that moment, all the sounds became muffled as time slowed. You could feel your heart begin to race under Emily’s intense gaze that were holding all the answers to why your friendship went to shit. You have your suspicions, but it was important to hear it from Prentiss.

“So,” you ask bluntly. “What the fuck do you want? Cuz I’m tried of this bullshit, chief.”

She winces and you hate that as much as you like doing that to her. You want to be vindictive like she was being to you, but in the next breath, you really hate how upset you were making her.

You watch her lips push and pull ever so slightly in thought but somehow, she has the strength not to look away. When her facial features smooth out, you know she comes to a decision and wait for it while holding your breath.

She fists her pants pockets and speaks your name with care. “I want you.”

The air rushes out of your mouth as your chest tightens. You end up playing dumb because you don’t know how to react to this and look away cowardly. “I … what?” Then your defense mechanism kicks in. “Kinda have an audience here, Prentiss.”

She smiles, glad to hear your joke and most importantly you are calling her by her last name again. “Well, I was thinking of a few dates first but hey, we can always give them a show,” she says as her gaze looks out to everyone clearing the scene. She saw Rossi finishing up with a deputy.

“That is the socially acceptable thing to do first,” you agree, then look at her. “But why are you telling me this now? Seems an odd time to do so.”

“That it is.” Her lips press thinly before responding. “I was gonna ask you out last Saturday.”

That made you jerk back and tilt your head in thought. “The day after Fireside?”

“Yes,” she confirms.

“Okay.” You sound as confused as you looked. “Why didn’t you?”

“Well, I was about to when I overheard your speaking with Brian.”

“Brian?” You’re baffled. “What does my conversation with Brian have to -. Oh …” It finally clicks as you remember your conversation about your ‘date’ with Nina. “Prentiss,” you say teasingly and smirk as she blushes. “All this nonsense was cuz you’re jealous?”

“I am not not saying that,” she sneers, but takes a deep breath before nodding. “But … maybe.”

You’re touched and feel yourself beaming. “Thank you for telling me.”

She looks at you pointedly and sees a resolution reflecting in your eyes. Emily frowns. “But?”

“But this isn’t a good idea. Even with me hitting on you in Russian,” you admit sheepishly.

“So, you do remember!” She grins. “Ass.”

You bow your head at that remark to concede the truth of it.

“And just for the record, I’ve been informed that since Brian is your direct supervisor, you wouldn’t be dating your boss,” she answers, anticipating your next response.

Shit.

Do you keep pressing that you work together and it’s a bad idea despite there being no official reason not to have a romantic relationship with one another. Or do you tell her the truth.

You look down at the sand. “I suck at relationships.” You give her a partial truth.

“That’s alright because you’re in luck.” She says your name and you look up to see her smile knowingly. “I suck at them, too. Like, really suck at them. As JJ will confirm, I’m the master of self-sabotage.”

“Wow,” you chuckle. “That’s a helluva thing to admit to someone you’re asking out.”

“Yes, it is.” Emily kicks at the sand nervously since you still haven’t given her an answer either way.

“You know I don’t date. Like, ever.” You admit and hear Emily’s boots shifting quickly in the sand.

“I, uh, didn’t realize that. But you know I appreciate you telling me this up front instead of stringing me along. Or being utterly rude like I was to you.” Emily was starting to spiral and needed to get away from you to recuperate from this raw emotional state. Damn her for assuming you would just magically forgive her and say yes.

“Hey, Emily?” you start but she was still going.

“No, it’s alright. Thank you for this.”  Her smile was all for show, but her eyes were dull and defeated. “We should get Rossi and head back to meet the rest of the te-.”

“Emily, stop!” You say firmly and that halts her from walking away any further. She hesitantly looks at you despite her body thrumming with anxiousness. She was ready to bolt by words or movement. You take a cautious step forward and decide to go all in like Charlie hoped you would. “I mean, I’ve never dated anyone before. Ever.”

Emily quirks a brow as if she didn’t hear that right. “Like … ever?”

“Never, ever.” You kick the sand now and chuckle nervously. “No one came along that mattered.”

Emily’s lips slowly curl into a hopeful smile. “Really? Not even in high school or …?”

You confirm all of that with a nod, which was far more confident than your voice that cracks. “Yep.” With Emily looking so adorable with that admission you look away. “Fuck, Prentiss. Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” she asks taking a step back closer to you with a shit eating, confident grin.

“Fuck it, like that!” you accuse, gesturing at her, with a nervous laugh. Damn her gorgeous smile that just lights up when so thrilled. For once, Emily looks like the weight of the entire world didn’t rest on her shoulders. How could that be because of you?

“So?” she lowers her voice on purpose and stops in front of you, relaxed and back in control of this conversation. You were close enough that if she wanted to, she could reach out and touch you, but she wouldn’t. Not with too many eyes in the vicinity. “Does this mean you’ll allow me the pleasure of taking you out sometime?”

You lick your lips and nervously scratch at the back of your neck, which makes Emily’s eyes light up happily with the effect she was having on you. “Ah fuck it.” You twist your lips, sucking on the lower one as you find the courage to look directly into those gorgeous brown eyes that were distracted by your lips. “Yeah. I’d love to.”

I'm living for the only thing I know I'm running and not quite sure where to go And I don't know what I'm diving into Just hanging by a moment here with you

Hanging by a Moment cont. - Lifehouse

*Off-Highway Vehicle

*Children, Youth & Families Department

*All-Points Bulletin

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[camaelias]

Sunny Winter Day

CHAPTER 1 - The Man Across the Hall

CHAPTER 2 - The Winter Soldier

CHAPTER 3 - Whispers in the wall

CHAPTER 4 - Black Coffee and Cookie

CHAPTER 5 - Ambient Empathy

Pairing : Grumpy Winter Soldier x Sunshine Reader

Tags : enemies to lovers, angst, slow burn

PLOT : You and Bucky have a really nice chat

CHAPTER 6 - Do you want to stay ?

Bucky had a plan, it was clear and simple : a routine Level 4 perimeter stress test ordered by Fury, executed by him, reviewed by no one but the top brass...voilà, clean and efficient

Then you overheard

And now he was crouched behind a fake ficus plant, gloved hand wrapped around his earpiece while watching you through narrowed eyes as you stood across the corridor with the brightest, childish smile ever

He shook his head with a little amused smile “This is a terrible idea,” he muttered in the earcom, not for the first time

“Oh, absolutely,” you whispered with sparkling eyes “But it’s a fun terrible idea”

He gave you a look. You just beamed wider, tilting your head...

“You said the cameras need to be tested under non-standard patterns of movement,” you stage-whispered, bouncing slightly on your heels like a kid about to pull the world’s best prank“And what’s more non-standard than me sprinting across the corridor in socks?”

“I said controlled deviations,” he hissed

You shrugged “Controlled chaos is still controlled”

Bucky didn’t respond, just exhaled slow through his nose like someone mentally reviewing every mistake he’d ever made that led him here

Which, fair

“You looped the feeds, right?” you asked sweetly, chin tilted just enough to draw his attention to the line of your jaw

“Ninety seconds,” he muttered “If you trip the motion sensors-”

“I won’t”

“You will”

“I won’t”

“You-”

You were already halfway across the hall

Your pastel pink socks slid on the polished floor as you flailed like a startled deer, arms pinwheeling, laughter biting your lip as you caught yourself at the last second. On the other hand, Bucky who was crouched in all-black tactical gear like a shadow come to life, somehow looked both exasperated and… entertained

He bit back a smile (and failed) as you slammed into the wall beside him with a soft thump

“Stealth queen,” you whispered

“You’re going to get me fired,” he muttered with a half smile while standing. You tilted your head, hair spilling over your shoulder, and Bucky had the sudden visceral urge to tuck it behind your ear

“Nah,” you said “You’re irreplaceable...and besides! ” your voice dropped, mischief curling at the edges, “this was Fury’s idea”

“That makes it worse,” he looked at you with a raised eyebrow, blue eyes that looked a little bit greyer today, trying not to look directly at your mouth “He’s gonna pop out of the vents and kill us”

You grinned, wolfish “Not if we finish the test first”

He sighed

“Alright doll,” he said “Security feed is looping for the next two minutes"

He crouched in front of the keypad by the reinforced server door pulling a sleek black device from his pocket. You leaned over his shoulder, breath ghosting across the nape of his neck. You smelled like levender and static and whatever clean bed sheet sundrying in summer sunlight would smell like if it came in perfume form

Bucky’s jaw flexed

“What’s that?” you asked softly, eyes wide and curious

“Magic,” he replied giving you a brief sideye. He clicked the device into place, it beeped once sharp and confident and he keyed in a rapid sequence of numbers then - click

The lock disengaged. He turned back to you, holding the door open a few inches “Agent Sunshine,” he said mock-formally, palm out. His hand was warm even throught the glove and his fingers curled just slightly around yours... steady, sure, careful.

Inside the server room was dark except for a hundred tiny blinking lights : blue, red, gold... a constellation of data. The air was cool and humming with electricity. He pulled you both into the narrow gap between two massive towers of tech

You were chest-to-chest, breathing each other’s air

He could feel the heat of you, smell the faint levender on your skin. He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just looked down.

And you - God help him - you looked up at him with those wide, curious eyes and a grin pulling at the corner of your mouth like you were actively trying to kill him. You meant to say something witty, maybe even mock him a little but then your brain short-circuited

After a beat of charged silence you raised your brows “Don’t tell me you’re blushing,” you whispered low and dangerous, like a dare

“I’m not blushing,” he muttered

“Sure you’re not,” you smiled "You know," you teased, a wicked glint in your eye, "you talk a big game, Barnes...but I bet you’re all bark and no bite"

"Is that right, doll?" he murmurs, voice a dark purr, and before you can even blink his hand slides around your waist, strong, sure, and tugs you flush against him. You can feel the heat of him, the roughness of his jacket, the slow thump of his heart against yours. His eyes where locked in yours, his pupils so black that you almost couldn't see the blue anymore, and as you were breathing in his musky scent you saw something flicker behind them. It felt like hesitation, like fear, you could't tell if he was making an active effort to let go off you or pulling you closer. Bucky's eyes flickered to your lips, slightly parted, and you noticed how his throat worked as he swallowed. He left out a tiny, shaky breath, his face suddenly felt so close to yours the tips of your noses were almost brushing

And then

A loud metallic thud

The door sealed shut

You blinked “...is that supposed to happen?”

He sighed, the took a step back and the cold of the distance between you made you shiver for a second. He dragged a hand down his face as he stepped out from between the servers “No”

You followed like a shadow, soft and golden

“That’s why I was supposed to test it,” he added frowning “Sometimes the override glitches. We’re gonna be stuck here for a while”

You felt the air cold on your burning cheeks but brushed it off as you leaned back against a humming tower of tech, legs crossed at the ankles like this was a casual hangout and not a classified ops fuck-up

“Well,” you said, kicking your socked feet against the metal floor, “good thing you’re stuck with me and not Stark”

And Bucky, who had spent years surviving war, torture, programming, and loss... chuckled. He shook his head and chuckled. You sighed and sat down on the floor, one leg bent under you, one kicked lazily out like you were sunbathing in Central Park and not locked in the world’s most secure server room

“I mean...this is cozy,” you said looking around like this was a five-star suite “You ever think about redecorating? Mood lighting’s doing a lot of the heavy lifting”

You wiggled your socked toes in the ambient blue glow of the server lights and flashed him a big childish smile...quiet, spontaneous, completely unbothered. He glanced down at you, something tugging faintly at the corner of his mouth

You were ridiculous, really a sunshine with a pulse, and the worst part was that you didn’t try. There were people who were charming like it was a job, a mask, he had studied them so that he could replicate it in Hydra`s missions but you? You were just...like this. Laughing in the dark in socks.

He crouched nearby, arms on his knees, trying very hard not to look directly at the way your hair had fallen into your eyes.

“So,” you said after a moment, peeking up at him through your lashes “What’s the backup plan, Mr. Security Chief?”

“Wait it out. Radio goes out when the door seals, but it should trigger an alert eventually”

You tilted your head, all mock-innocence “Or… we could pass the time with a game”

He arched a brow “What kind of game?”

“The dangerous kind, ” You grinned brightly “You go first,” you added, sitting up straighter, legs now criss-crossed “Tell me something true, one real thing”

Bucky leaned back against the server rack as it hummed gently against his spine and thought about how you looked so at home in the dark.

He hesitated for a second

“I don’t like peaches, but...I like plums” he said at last

You gasped, actually gasped. One hand on your heart, the other pressed to the floor for dramatic support

“no peaches?” you exclaimed “How dare you”

He smirked, low and fast, the rare kind that didn’t feel like a reflex. You kicked your foot out and lightly bumped his shin. He shook his head trying not to smile “What about you?”

You tapped your chin then leaned in slightly as if confiding a state secret

“I once tried to smuggle a white cat out of a Hydra facility, wanted to call him Alpine”

He blinked

“It followed me into the vents,” you added, shrugging “Fury was not amused”

Bucky laughed. A short, sharp burst that surprised even him. It made you grin like you’d just won something

“I can’t tell if you’re brave or just chaos in human form,” he said still smiling and blue eyes locked on you, taking in every detail.

Need to study the target, to find a break in he tells to himself while he looks at the little crease in your forehead when you tried to be serious, the curve of your mouth when it held back a laugh, the light on your skin, soft and golden even here.

The room settled into a hush, not a heavy or awkward silence, just quiet. The kind of silence that happens when there’s nothing left to prove or hide.

You leaned back on your palms now, head tilted, hair fanning slightly across your shoulder. The glow from the servers threw little halos over your collarbone, catching the slight shimmer in your eyeshadow, the faint glint of a golden thread stitched through your sleeve

Bucky noticed that He noticed everything. He swallowed thickly, blinking hard

“What?” you asked softly, catching his gaze mid-thought

“Nothing,” he said too quickly

He sat with his back against one of the taller racks, the chill from the floor seeping through the seams of his pants. It grounded him and so did the faint vibration in the wall behind him, a reminder that the world was still spinning. Still working. That he (well, Hydra) hadn’t pulled it all down, yet

You weren’t looking at him, you were watching the floor or maybe something far behind it. Your lashes flickered softly with every blink, your expression unreadable but quiet

“You said you were military, right?”

Bucky didn’t flinch. He was ready for this question and he mentally went through the file of his cover

“Yeah,” he said carefully, adjusting his posture like it mattered “Army. Long time ago”

You nodded like that made sense “That explains the posture”

That drew the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth “Didn’t like the cold” he added dryly “Or the… purpose”

That earned you the smallest, understanding smile, a sign that you were listening. You adjusted your posture, arms wrapping lightly around your knees now “so you left?” you asked

“You can't really leave that kind of world” A truth buried in lie

You hummed and Bucky almost hated how easy it was to listen to the sound. How warm it felt in his ears

“Do you miss something about it?”

The question hit him sideways

Did he miss it? The war, the reboots, the certainty of orders?

He’d never had the time to ask himself that, it's not like he never got to choose. His silence stretched just a second too long

“I miss… knowing what I was supposed to do” His voice sounded distant in his own ears “even when I hated it”

You nodded again, soft

“Are you happy here?”

He looked at you and for a second, just one, he forgot what he was supposed to say

Happy? Here?

This wasn’t his life, it was a cover story. An infiltration. He was Hydra’s metal fist. This wasn’t his place, not really. He was here to run the program, watch you, exploit the opening, slip into the vault without being seen. He didn’t get to be happy, he got to be useful.

But your voice was so open and so, so fucking genuine. You didn’t mean it as a threat, you just wanted to know

“I don’t know,” he finally answered. His voice was quieter now, low and fraying at the edges “I haven’t had time to think about what happy even looks like”

You tilted your head, curiosity brightening your eyes. You shifted slightly closer without realising it

And then, softly, plainly... “Do you want to stay?”

That question didn’t sound big in your mouth yet it detonated in his chest.

"Do you want to stay?"

Not can you Not should you Not are you assigned to

Want

He didn’t answer at first.

Didn’t trust his voice.

But something... maybe the dark, maybe your tone, maybe the sheer quiet of it all loosened the words from his chest before he could smother them

“I think I’d like to”

“Then stay,” you said. He blinked hard, looked down, his fingers flexed slightly against the floor, and for a second he didn’t know where to put his hands. His thoughts. Himself. There was a tightness behind his eyes he didn’t trust. His shoulders drew in just slightly as if he could brace against kindness like it was a blow

His voice came out quieter now, rougher

“Not many people would say that to someone like me”

You blinked, tilting your head

“Why not?”

Your tone wasn’t defensive, just… confused and honest, like you couldn’t imagine someone not saying that to him. He swallowed.

“My past is...” The words caught thick and bitter “It’s dark”

His chest tightened as memories of his life as the winter soldier flashed before his eye. He felt the fear again but not the enemy’s, his. Fear of forgetting, of becoming nothing again, gone in the ice until the next mission. His chest started to pull tighter, the room a little smaller now, colder... he tried to will the image away

Your voice came a second later “Dark doesn’t mean bad”

He looked at you but you didn’t look back yet. You were still watching that invisible point on the floor, lashes low, thoughtful

“People always say light is better,” you continued slowly, carefully choosing each word “but light demands something...It... exposes. It asks you to perform, you know? To...ugh, to shine and to be bright even when you’re not”

Your eyes met his again, gentle but direct

“But the dark… the dark lets you rest”

You paused, breathing in deep through your nose. You blinked once, twice, like you were tasting the weight of your next thought before releasing it

“It’s quiet there. Honest....mercyfull even"

He stared. You turned fully toward him, tucking one leg underneath the other, the fabric of your shirt shifting gently with the movement.

“I think your kind of dark,” you said with a soft smile, and this time your voice dipped even softer “might be the kind that keeps people warm, not afraid”

His breath hitched

He didn’t know what to say but somehow, in the stillness of that server room far from the steel operating tables, far from the hiss of sedatives and the burn of commands tattooed into his skull, something in him shifted. He looked at you but not as a mark, not as a mission, but as a person.

You, with your voice like velvet and your eyes that didn’t flinch, with your sleeves pushed up and a faint shimmer on your cheekbone, with the light on your fingertips fading gently now, not vanishing but just resting, with your shoulder half-lit by the server’s glow and the tiniest scar just below your jaw. He felt something warm and awful open in his chest. Not pain, not hope, just… something alive. For the first time in too many years to count he looked through his own eyes, not the Winter Soldier’s, just Bucky’s.

The door clicked open with a low whir and a flash of green across the panel, you blinked at it like you'd forgotten it was supposed to happen at all then stretched your arms above your head with a sleepy grin

“Well, crisis averted, server seduction complete”

Bucky stood slowly. His limbs felt heavier than they should’ve.

You walked out first, smiley and breezy like you hadn’t just made a former assassin question his entire constructed reality and he followed. The hallway was colder than he remembered. Too bright. Too open.

You glanced back at him over your shoulder “You okay?”

He nodded but the motion felt practiced “Yeah. Just gonna do a perimeter sweep”

You didn’t push, just smiled like you always did... a little amused, a little knowing, and saluted him with two fingers before turning the other way

Bucky stood there a second too long.

Then turned sharply and walked.