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5sospenguinqueen · 5 months ago

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Emotional Range Of A Teaspoon | Pierre Gasly

Summary: What right does he have to feel angry at the sight of Y/N and Charles? The answer is none. After all, she's only his best friend. Isn't she?

Warnings: Swearing. Angst. Fluff. Jealousy. One suggestive comment

No faceclaim but British reader. 2024 timeline

F1 Masterlist

Requested: Yes (sorry it's a little late)

This one actually comes with a tiny text paragraph mid-way through

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Replies to @ PierreGASLY

Charles_Leclerc c’mon mate, it’s only been two days

→ PierreGASLY a whole lifetime

→ ItsYN i can’t even remember what you look like

→ Charles_Leclerc and the people say that i am the dramatic one

AlpineF1Team think you can channel that pain into some points this weekend?

→ PierreGASLY why aren’t you taking my pain seriously

→ AlpineF1Team do you want us to schedule you an appointment with the counsellor?

→ ItsYN i don’t think that counsellor gets paid enough to listen to him

User1 ouch, talk about friendzoned

→ User2 no, no, they’re in the denial stage of their friends to lovers arc

Replies to @ ItsYN

PierreGASLY i can still hear your voice

→ PierreGASLY although i’m glad you’re not making me suffer through the lost boys again

→ ItsYN okay first off, you love that movie. and second, because of that, i’m telling everyone you cried watching cars 3

→ PierreGASLY traitor!

→ LiamLawson30 as any man would!

Charles_Leclerc don’t worry y/n, i’ll have movie night with you

→ ItsYN are you going to make me watch harry potter again?

→ Charles_Leclerc yes..?

→ ItsYN @ PierreGASLY come back please

Replies to @ Charles_Leclerc

User3 not charles tweeting this the day after the canadian gp. y/n missed the canadian gp and you can tell poor charles had to hear all about it

ItsYN we all know i would be the soldier and pierre would be the doting housewife crying on the platform

→ PierreGASLY and i would look radiant doing so

Max33Verstappen he wouldn’t shut up about her during the driver’s parade. i tried to walk off and he followed me!

→ PierreGASLY i was in the middle of a sentence!

→ danielricciardo mate you know it’s bad when yapstappen needs you to stop talking

ItsYN stop talking about me. you're making it sound like we're friends

→ Charles_Leclerc excuse me but you know you want to be my bestie

→ PierreGASLY you can’t have her. she’s mine. i saw her first. shotgun or whatever you monagasques say for dibs

→ GeorgeRussell63 actually i saw her first; her brother was my teammate when we were kids so

→ PierreGASLY and just for that, i’m unfollowing you

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Replies to @ CHICKEN!!

User4 whoever took this photo needs to go straight to jail. not y’all making it seem like charles and y/n are a sneaky item

User5 i knew she was shady, talking about how she couldn't make it only to end up in the winning driver’s garage

PierreGASLY oh

→ User6 wait no, pierre, come back. look at other tweets about this please

User7 stop being a shit stirrer. he’s literally got his other arm wrapped around alex ‘cause he was guiding the two of them through a ton of fans but that’s conveniently been cropped out

Replies to @ BRAKKEEE

User8 i can’t believe people were trying to convince us ynarles was real when it’s clearly ynex

User9 love that charles was literally only there to keep them safe from fans and after that they were like ‘you’re done babe. now we run off into the sunset’

User10 watching him chase after them was so funny tho because he was literally yelling “let me play too”

Replies to @ ItsYN

User11 oh no, we’re so sorry. we were just so happy to see you

→ User12 yeah and pierre would’ve been happy to see her as well if you hadn’t blasted her all over the internet

→ User13 pierre didn't exactly look all that happy though. he wouldn’t stop glaring at poor charles

→ User12 maybe because you guys made it seem like his best friend lied to him to be with charles

Thumb aimlessly swiping at the screen of his phone, Pierre scanned the tweets as they passed, making note of a cute waffle shop in Monaco that he knew Y/N would love. Nothing of note appeared to have been posted as most of the Grid were waiting to hear where Sainz had signed. Hand halting, Pierre’s eyes flickered across the screen once. Twice. And then a third time just to be sure. His last message to Y/N had gone unanswered and now there was a picture of her on Twitter, claiming to be from today. With Charles’ arm around her. His teeth sank into his bottom lip, and a derisive scoff filled his driver’s room. What happened to being unable to book the time off work, he thought bitterly to himself. Instead she was in the Paddock with a red-clad arm wrapped around her. Before he could restrain himself, he had clicked on the ‘reply’ button. A knock at the door pulled him from his downward spiral, preventing him from looking further into the comments gushing about how cute his best friend and closest F1 friend looked as a couple.

“Pierre, time to warm up.”

“D’accord.”

He locked his phone before dumping it onto the massage table, storming out of his driver’s room, unaware that if he had scrolled down another two posts, he would’ve seen a picture of Y/N with Alexandra and a tweet from the woman herself.

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ItsYN just posted

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, estebanocon and others

ItsYN an amazing weekend in barcelona watching my best friend do his thing and achieve some well-deserved points. a huge thank you to charles and alex for helping me sneak into the paddock last-minute tagged: pierregasly, charles_leclerc and alexandrasaintmleux

553 comments

alpinef1team our favourite things rolled into one post

→ ItsYN mine too!

→ User1 sis, get off the floor

estebanocon should i be offended that you wearing my cap didn’t make the post

→ ItsYN shh i can’t have my people thinking i have friends other than pear

danielricciardo PIERRE GASSLLLYYYYY

→ ItsYN go thirst over him on his posts. my insta is a 310 free zone

→ danielricciardo just admit that you’re jealous of our love and move on

→ ItsYN was he publicly crying over missing YOU? i don’t think so

→ danielricciardo that’s because i’m a better friend than you and i’ve been here the whole time

→ ItsYN blocked

alexandrasaintmleux thank you for trusting me with the surprise!

→ ItsYn thank you for being so wonderful and helping 🩷 (and stopping charles from throttling me)

→ charles_leclerc it’s because you wouldn’t stop saying thank you and asking me if i was “sure that it’s no bother” to help you

→ It’sYN sorry for being considerate!

User2 not to be that person but has anyone else noticed that pierre hasn’t commented?

→ User3 i'm getting the feeling that, despite all his online complaining, he wasn’t overly excited to see his best friend this weekend?

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User4 not the f1wags posting her, they know the truth

→ User5 what truth. it doesn’t look they’re even friends anymore

User7 it’s the way she looks like she’s trying to explain/talk to him and he’s just yelling at her

→ User8 i used to root for them to get together but now that he’s yelled at her :/

User9 y/n is stronger than me because if a man pointed his finger like that at me, i’d savagely bite it off

User10 uh, who does he think he is talking to y/n l/n that way

User11 i bet it’s because he thought y/n was there for charles and got jealous

→ User12 i’ve connected the dots

→ User13 you ain’t connected shit

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User14 idk which one i want to be more

→ User15 that’s because you want to be their third instead

User16 i’m thirsty. anyone else thirsty

LandoNorris oh god my eyes

→ danielricciardo this is why you should stop looking at x rated things on the internet

→ User17 what happened to your pr training?

→ Charles_Leclerc what happened to pierre’s?

User18 if only he could transfer this kind of passion onto the track

User19 uh, the clarity of the third one?? did admin take this and then leak it online?

→ AlpineF1Team i'm afriad that we’re finding out along with you guys but we’re not gonna pretend like we weren’t rooting for this

ItsYN why am i trending on twitter?

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ItsYN just posted

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, lilymhe and others

ItsYN my little pain au chocolat 💕

845 comments

pierregasly we talked about you calling me pastries

→ ItsYn yes, we did. and i didn’t take into account anything you said

→ pierregasly you are very lucky you're cute

→ ItsYN it's gotten me far in life

User1 talk about a hard launch

→ User2 they weren’t really given the choice considering they were caught snogging all over barcelona last weekend

alpinef1team pierre repping the alpine colours

→ ItsYN release your chokehold on my man

→ alpinef1team no, you release your chokehold on our man

→ ItsYN what happened to being supportive of this?

→ alpinef1team that was before all he did was yap about you!

lilymhe babe, this isn’t you. get up and come back to me

→ ItsYN i’m sorry but i don’t think i can come back from this

→ lilymhe what about us, what about everything we’ve been through

→ ItsYN you know i never wanted to hurt you

→ alex_albon @ pierregasly guess i’ll be seeing you at the next karaoke marathon

→ pierregasly only if you sing breaking free with me

→ ItsYN this is why i love you

landonorris let’s take a moment for our fallen soldier… we lost an honourable brit to a french man

→ pierregasly it’s not my fault that i have charm and you don’t

→ danielricciardo i didn’t realise charm meant having a tantrum when she asks your friend for help to surprise you

→ pierregasly we agreed not to speak of that!

→ ItsYN i don’t think you’re living this one down, macaron

charles_leclerc can you tell him to put his clothes back on, please

→ ItsYN i tried but he seems incapable of keeping them on around me

→ pierregasly charles is just jealous of my amazing physique

→ charles_leclerc best you not talk about jealousy

User4 @ ItsYN i love that they’ve not had a chance to pr train you yet

→ ItsYN never!

User5 and they called me crazy when i said friends to lovers!

→ ItsYN tbf hun, so did we. it took us a minute

→ User6 so pierre is slow on and off the track

→ pierregasly hey!

pierregasly just posted

liked by charles_leclerc, yukitsunoda0511 and others

pierregasly from movie nights to drunken karaoke, i would go on any adventure with you

1,454 comments

ItsYN my best friend and my love

→ alexandrasaintmleux i thought i was your best friend

→ ItsYN i’m not allowed to post shirtless pics of you online though

→ charles_leclerc no you are not!

→ User7 i hope pr never got ahold of her

→ alpinef1team she has an appointment with them on thursday

yukitsunoda0511 is this what they call simping?

→ pierregasly no

→ ItsYN yes

maxverstappen1 does this mean you’ll stop talking about her during driver’s parades?

→ pierregasly no

→ yukitsunoda0511 he’ll just stop talking about whether she’s interested in any of us

→ ItsYN he did that?

→ pierregasly no!

→ maxverstappen1 yes, the latest victim was logan

→ charles_leclerc actually i was the latest victim, and i will remain the most famous. my jealousy era is forever captured on the internet

→ logansargeant @ pierregasly is that why you kept asking me what i thought about her?

landonorris you guys are kinda cute when you’re not yelling at her

→ ItsYN please stop saying this. i'm the one who has to listen to him apologise over and over for the millionth time

→ pierregasly because i feel bad!

→ ItsYN omg i know!

danielricciardo mate, we get it. she’s your girl now but you can let go of her for two seconds. she’s not going to disappear

→ pierregasly it’s called a healthy attachment

→ ItsYN he says whilst cuddled into my neck and following me to the bathroom

lilymhe she’s so hot, drop me her @ please

→ pierregasly back off

→ ItsYN i’m right here bby girl. let me take out on a date

→ charles_leclerc careful lily or he might start yelling at you next

alpinef1team we’ve been asked by an anonymous source that you all refrain from discussing previous events. reparations have been made and it’s been advised that such an event remain in the past

→ danielricciardo lol he ran to mom

→ landonorris anonymous source, my ass. just tag him

→ georgerussell63 this is so lame

→ alex_albon mate, this is more obvious than pierre’s jealousy

→ charles_leclerc even i cannot support him through this

→ ItsYN i love you, my little croissant, but i cannot pretend that this is normal

→ pierregasly ultimate betrayal

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Sorry if this wasn’t angst enough. Humour and fluff are more my forte.

As always, F1 requests open for the current grid and retired drivers.

Tag list

@peachiicherries @rosecentury

(A huge thank you to both of you for wanting to be added to all f1 posts. It means a lot)

1K notes · View notes

bellaveux · 2 months ago

Note

Can you do a Natasha fic where the reader gets really sick while she's at work, and is kind of going through it with a rude boss, so she's just having a really rough day, but she never told Natasha because she's scared of confrontation. Anyway, the day she gets sick an employee calls Natasha while she's working at SHIELD to inform her that y/n threw up and isn't feeling well, so Natasha drops everything to go and pick her up. She takes care of her and the reader just gets really emotional and kinda breaks down, tells her everything going on and Natasha like HANDS IT TO y/ns boss? Thank you!

by your side | n. romanoff x fem!reader

pairing: natasha romanoff x fem!reader

summary: you always put everything you had into your work, pushing yourself until the weight of the stress finally caught up with you. whenever it did, natasha was there to pick up the pieces.

content warnings: hurt/comfort, sick!fic, angst, protective!natasha, caring!natasha, reader gets exhausted (to the point it gets very concerning), very small hint of dark!natasha towards the end, an annoying man *eye roll*

word count: 9.8k

note: WHY IS THIS SO LONG IM SORRY

You worked at a bustling office in the heart of New York City, where the sound of phones ringing and keyboards clacking was a constant backdrop to your life. It was the kind of place that never really slowed down, no matter the time of day, and you were always at the heart of it, buried under a never-ending pile of deadlines and demands. Your boss, a man who thrived on intensity and pressure, never seemed to pause long enough to recognize the strain he put on his employees—especially you. To him, you were just another cog in the machine, a very dependable one, which means he pushed you harder than most.

The problem was, he never knew when to stop asking.

You never said no. You couldn’t. Not when your boss stood over your desk, throwing more work your way without a second thought, his voice always sharp, always urgent. “Can you handle this by end of day?” It wasn’t really a question, just an expectation, and you—too kind, too eager to please—would nod, even though your head was already pounding, even though your body was screaming for rest.

Day after day, it was the same routine: arriving at the office before anyone else, your steps heavy before you even crossed the threshold, often staying late into the evening, long after the sun had set and the streets outside had quieted. You ate lunch at your desk, if you remembered to eat at all, and even when you were home, your phone buzzed with emails and messages that you felt obligated to respond to.

Stress seeped into your bones, deeper with each passing week. It started small—just a lingering headache at first, or a faint wave of nausea that you could ignore. But soon, it became harder to push through. You’d stand up too quickly and feel the room spin at times. Your hands shook when you typed, your vision blurring at the edges. By the time you crawled into bed, exhaustion pulling at you, sleep never came easily. You’d lie there, staring at the ceiling, your mind still racing with the tasks you hadn’t completed yet.

Natasha noticed the changes first, the quiet ways your body betrayed you. The exhaustion was written all over your face, in the dark smudges beneath your eyes, in the slowness of your movements. You didn’t smile as easily, didn’t laugh as often. When you sat together, Natasha could feel the tension in you—how you would fidget, your hands restless, your mind clearly somewhere else. And the more it happened, the more Natasha’s concern grew.

She didn’t like how your job was stripping away your vitality, how the woman she loved seemed to be fading right before her eyes. Natasha had spent a lifetime learning how to take care of herself, how to survive under pressure, but watching you suffer was something she couldn’t just stand by and let happen.

A couple nights later, she entered the apartment quietly, the sound of her boots soft against the floor as she shrugged off her jacket. The space was unusually quiet. She couldn’t hear the usual shuffle of you in the kitchen, the faint hum of the TV or music playing in the background. Her instincts, honed from years of training, told her something was off.

The faint glow of light peeked out from under the door of the small office down the hallway. Natasha’s brow furrowed as she made her way toward it, her steps measured. Pushing the door open gently, she found you slumped over your desk, your laptop still open, a forgotten cup of coffee sitting cold beside you. You were asleep, your head resting on your arms, your body curled into the desk as if you had simply given up mid-task. The lines of exhaustion etched into your face were even more prominent now, your breathing soft but uneven. Natasha’s heart sank, a sigh leaving her lips. She took in the scene—the clutter of paperwork, the blinking cursor on the screen, the clock ticking far too late into the night.

You looked so small like this, your usual vibrant energy drained away. Natasha swallowed hard, a wave of guilt and protectiveness washing over her. She knew you were exhausted. She’d seen it in your eyes, heard it in the tired way you spoke lately.

Natasha crossed the room slowly, crouching down beside the chair. Gently, she reached out, her fingers brushing against your hair, moving a stray lock behind your ear. You stirred faintly, but didn’t wake, your body too tired to register the touch. Natasha sighed again, her chest tightening with frustration at your boss for running you into the ground, and at herself for not stepping in sooner.

She glanced at the laptop screen, at the endless emails and documents open, the work that never seemed to end. Her eyes narrowed, and she closed the laptop with a soft click, shutting off the pressure it represented. This wasn’t what you deserved—this never-ending cycle of work and stress, of pushing yourself until you broke.

"Baby?" Natasha whispered softly, her voice laced with concern.

You stirred, your eyes fluttering open slowly, disoriented and mumbling something under your breath. Her heart squeezed as she leaned in closer, her hand still caressing your hair.

“Let me take you to bed, detka,” she urged softly, her thumb brushing lightly across your temple.

You shifted slightly, mumbling incoherently, “I… I still… I need to finish some stuff first…” Your voice was barely above a whisper, slurred with exhaustion, but still that underlying thread of responsibility ran through it.

Natasha shook her head gently, her hand moving to rest on your shoulder. “No, no, you can finish it later,” she protested softly, but firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument.

Your brow furrowed faintly in protest, but your eyelids were already drooping again, your body sagging further into the chair. “I… I’m almost done, I just…” you murmured again, your words fading as your head lolled slightly.

Natasha sighed, a gentle smile tugging at her lips. Even in your droopy state, you were stubborn. But she wouldn’t let you push yourself any further tonight.

“Come on, baby,” she whispered, slipping her arms beneath you to lift you from the chair. You barely protested then, your body limp in her hold, already too far gone to fight anymore.

As Natasha carried you toward the bedroom, your head nestled against her shoulder as she pressed a soft kiss to your hair before laying you down against the soft mattress and tucking you in under the blanket.

She hated it—hated every bit of seeing you like this. Over the past few weeks, she watched you grow more and more exhausted under the relentless weight of work. It gnawed at her, the way you seemed to fade a little more each day.

You were always so selfless, so willing to take on anything asked of you, and Natasha knew it. She admired your strength, your commitment, but this... this was too much. The late nights spent hunched over your laptop and the way you had started falling asleep at your desk almost every night—it was all wrong. It felt like your fire was being slowly extinguished, and Natasha couldn’t stand it.

She felt helpless, almost, watching her girlfriend work herself to the bone, all because she was too nice to say no. You were always the one giving—too much of yourself, Natasha realized now—and she didn’t know how to protect you from this. She could face any enemy, survive any mission, but seeing you like this, so drained and worn, was something she wasn’t prepared for. It stirred something fierce in her, this protective instinct that made her want to grab your boss by the collar and demand that they stop putting you through this. But that wasn’t how you operated. She knew you wouldn’t want that.

It was just one night later, when Natasha decided that all this would come to an end. She was lounging on the couch, her feet propped up on the coffee table as she absentmindedly flicked through the channels on the TV. It had been a quiet evening, the kind that felt rare and fleeting in her world. You were working late again, and Natasha had been expecting to see you walk through the door soon, your usual soft smile brightening up the apartment.

But instead, her phone buzzed on the cushion beside her.

Natasha smiled to herself as she answered, but the tone of your voice wasn’t what she expected. There was a hesitance there, a weariness she could sense even before you spoke.

“Hey, Nat,” your voice was soft, almost sheepish, like you were hesitant to ask something. “Do you think… um, do you think you could pick me up from work? I’m just… too tired for the subway tonight.”

Natasha didn’t even need to hear the rest. Her heart clenched at the thought of you trying not to burden her. She sat up instantly, already swinging her legs off the couch as if she’d been waiting for this all evening.

“Yeah, baby, of course,” she said, her voice firm and warm, leaving no room for hesitation. “I’ll be there in soon.”

You let out a small sigh of relief on the other end, a sound so soft that Natasha could practically feel it. “Thanks, Nat. I’m sorry, I just��”

“Don’t apologize,” her reply was immediate, firm. She could hear the way your words trembled, how much it had probably taken for you to admit you needed help. That fact alone made her move even faster. “I’ll be there soon.”

As she hung up the phone, her eyes narrowed, determination settling in. It made her chest ache—you shouldn’t have to ask, shouldn’t have to feel shy about needing something as simple as a ride home.

She didn’t waste a second. Throwing on her jacket, Natasha grabbed her keys and headed straight for the door. She made it to her car in record time, sliding into the driver’s seat with focus before she sped out of the apartment building's parking lot, her grip tight on the wheel. The roads were clearer this late, and she took advantage of it, her foot pressing harder on the gas as she weaved between cars, the streetlights casting fleeting glows through the windows. All she could think about was getting to you. The thought of you standing outside your building, tired and alone, was enough to make Natasha’s stomach twist. You worked so hard, too hard, and the idea of you taking the subway, bone-tired and vulnerable, made Natasha’s blood race faster than the car.

It wasn’t long before Natasha pulled up in front of your building, her car coming to a halt with a smooth screech. She didn’t bother with parking neatly, didn’t care about anything except finding you. Her eyes scanned the entrance, and there you were—standing on the sidewalk, looking small and worn-out under the harsh glow of the streetlamp. Even from the distance, Natasha could see the way your shoulders slumped.

She jumped out of the car, her heart squeezing at the sight of her. “(Y/n),” she called softly, but with enough urgency that your head snapped up. Your tired eyes brightened just a bit when you saw her, and that was all it took for Natasha to feel a flood of warmth.

“Hey,” you said, your voice small as you walked toward her, your bag slung over one shoulder. You looked up at her with a shy smile, almost embarrassed, like you felt guilty for even asking. “You didn’t have to rush—”

“Don’t even,” Natasha interrupted, her tone firm but gentle. She stepped closer, her hand resting on your cheek for a moment, thumb brushing the dark circles under your eyes. “You look exhausted.”

Your lips curved into a faint smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “It was a long day,” you admitted quietly, leaning into her touch.

She knew you well enough to see through that smile. You were faking it—putting on a brave front like you always did when you were too tired to admit how bad things were. Natasha didn’t say anything, though. Not yet at least, not wanting to put any more stress on your shoulders for the rest of the night. Instead, she carefully took your bag from your shoulder and guided you over to the car. Without another word, Natasha opened the passenger door for you, her eyes never leaving you as she gently guided you inside. As soon as you were settled, she rounded the car and slid into the driver’s seat, her hand instinctively reaching over to rest on your thigh. She kept her hand there, her thumb rubbing soft, soothing circles into your leg. The car was warm, comfortable, but the silence between them was filled with something soft, a quiet understanding. She drove fast, her usual controlled demeanor slipping a little in her urgency to get you home, to get you somewhere safe and warm.

As she drove, Natasha started speaking quietly, filling the silence with soft reassurances and a few stories about her own day—anything to lighten the mood, to keep you grounded. “You know, Fury was on my case about the paperwork again… I swear he thinks I’m made for office work. Can you imagine?”

She went on like that for a minute or two, just talking to keep you company, but when she glanced over at you, she saw you had already fallen asleep. Your head rested gently against the window, the faintest sound of your breathing filling the car. Natasha’s heart ached at the sight, and her grip on the steering wheel tightened.

Arriving back at the apartment, she parked the car, then gently placed her hand on your shoulder, softly shaking you awake.

“Baby, we’re home,” she whispered, her voice as soft as the late evening air.

You stirred, blinking up at her groggily, before mumbling something Natasha couldn’t quite make out. She smiled at the sight, though, feeling an ache of tenderness as your sleepy eyes met hers.

You made your way inside, Natasha holding your hand firmly as they walked through the building and into the elevator. In the quiet space, she leaned in, placing a soft kiss on your hand, then your cheek, trying to get a real smile from you. Your lips curved upward, but it was faint—Natasha could see the exhaustion still pulling you down.

Once you were inside the apartment, Natasha felt a strange sense of relief, thinking they were finally home, finally safe. You both kicked off your shoes near the door, and Natasha started to head toward the kitchen to grab a glass of water for you. But just as she turned away, she heard the unmistakable thud of you collapsing behind her.

“(Y/n)!” Natasha shouted, her voice thick with panic, rushing your side immediately. She managed to catch you just in time, pulling you into her arms, her heart racing. “God... what happened?”

Still dazed, you gave her a tired smile, trying to brush it off. “I’m fine, Nat. Really… I just slipped... Got a little dizzy, that’s all.”

“You’re not fine, (Y/n). You almost passed out,” Natasha snapped, her frustration breaking through the concern. “I’ve been watching you every day, running yourself into the ground, and you just keep brushing it off like it’s nothing.”

You sighed, trying to keep your voice calm, though your exhaustion made you sound small and fragile. “I’m okay, Natasha. Really. I just need to sit for a minute. I’ll be fine.” You reached up and touched Natasha’s face gently, trying to reassure her, even if it was far from the truth.

But Natasha’s expression didn’t soften. If anything, she looked even more conflicted, torn between wanting to believe you and knowing deep down that something wasn’t right.

“I just... I just want you to be okay,” Natasha said quietly, her voice breaking a little, the concern clear in her eyes. She wanted to take care of you, to make sure you weren’t pushing yourself too far, but you kept putting up walls—soft ones, sure, but walls nonetheless.

You smiled again, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “I will be fine,” you whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to Natasha’s temple as if that could erase her worries.

Natasha swallowed hard, still unconvinced. “Can you please just... sleep earlier tonight? For me?”

You sighed and nodded softly, your hand stilling on her cheek, “Okay. I will.”

That night, you actually followed through. You did something you hadn’t done in a long time—you went to bed early, just like Natasha had asked. Your body gave in almost instantly, sinking into the soft mattress beneath you. Natasha, careful and gentle, slid into bed behind you not long after, wrapping an arm around your waist.

The warmth of your girlfriend’s body was a comfort that you didn’t realize how much you’d missed. She pulled you closer, pressing her chest against yours back, holding you as though she could somehow protect you from the stress and weariness that had been overtaking you. You let out a small, content sigh, nestling deeper into the blankets as your hand instinctively found hers, your fingers intertwining.

Natasha’s breath was soft and steady, brushing against the back of your neck. She stayed like that, holding you close, feeling the gentle rise and fall of your breathing. As your body relaxed, Natasha’s heart clenched, knowing how much you had been pushing yourself—too much, too hard. And the thought of you collapsing earlier that evening, that brief, terrifying moment, replayed in her mind over and over.

With her face buried against your hair, Natasha whispered, “I’ve got you, detka,” though she wasn’t sure if you could hear her, already drifting into sleep.

She held you even tighter, her fingers lightly tracing over your skin as if to reassure herself that you were there, safe and resting. Natasha hated seeing you so drained, so worn down by the demands of a job that seemed to take more and more from you. She didn’t like it, the way you always said you were fine, brushing off your own well-being, trying to be strong for everyone else but yourself. She wasn’t used to feeling so helpless, but tonight, at least, she could hold you close and promise herself that she would do whatever it took to make sure you didn’t have to carry so much alone anymore.

“I love you,” Natasha murmured into skin, hoping that in your dreams, you’d feel just how much.

The next day was a blur of routine, at least until everything changed in an instant. Natasha had been buried in paperwork of reports and briefings at S.H.I.E.L.D., her mind only half-focused as she replayed the events of last night. She had been relieved to see you sleep early, hoping that it marked the start of you finally resting more.

Her phone buzzed on the desk, the familiar sight of your name flashing on the screen making her smile for a brief second. She was expecting a cute text or a midday update, hopefully saying that you slept well last night and that you felt much better.

Natasha answered immediately, “Hey, baby—”

But it wasn’t your voice on the other end of the line. It was someone else—a voice she vaguely recognized, one of your coworkers. Her heart dropped instantly.

“Natasha?” the voice was shaky, worried. “It’s Grace. I—I didn’t know who else to call. (Y/n)… she collapsed at work. She’s in the bathroom, and she threw up. She’s barely conscious—”

She didn’t hear the rest. The world around her went silent, her heart pounding in her ears. She was moving before she even realized it, throwing her jacket over her shoulder as she sprinted down the hall, ignoring the questioning glances from her team.

“I’m coming,” Natasha cut in sharply. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

She barely gave her a chance to respond before hanging up, adrenaline coursing through her veins as she burst through the doors of the headquarters, her mind racing with every worst-case scenario. You had been pushing yourself too hard for too long, and now it was catching up with you in a way Natasha had feared but hoped would never happen.

Her hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles turned white, weaving through traffic without hesitation. Every second felt like an eternity as Natasha’s mind kept replaying Grace’s words—collapsed, barely conscious, you. The need to be there, to make sure you were okay, to hold you and take care of you, consumed her completely.

She arrived at your workplace in what felt like both a heartbeat and a lifetime, her heart racing as she tore through the office doors. Faces blurred past her as she hurried down the hall, driven by the singular need to get to you.

When she reached the bathroom, Grace was waiting just outside, looking as pale as a sheet. “She’s in there,” Grace murmured, but Natasha didn’t need to hear more. She pushed the door open and rushed inside, finding you slumped against the wall by the sinks, your face pale, eyes half-closed, and your breathing shallow.

Natasha dropped to her knees beside you, gently lifting your face with trembling hands. “(Y/n),” she whispered, her voice cracking, “I’m here, baby. I’m here.”

Your eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused. “Nat, I… I’m sorry…” you mumbled weakly, and it only made Natasha’s heart clench tighter.

“Shh, don’t talk,” she said softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “We’re getting you home, okay? You’re going to be alright.”

But inside, Natasha was anything but calm.

She took you home with little hesitation, bundling you up in her arms and practically carrying you to the car. The ride back had been silent, you were too drained to speak, your head resting against the window, eyes closed, your breathing soft but labored. As soon as you reached the apartment, Natasha helped you into bed, making sure you had water, medicine, and plenty of blankets, wrapping you up in care as you quickly fell into a deep, much-needed sleep.

Natasha paced the apartment, restless with worry. She texted Fury immediately, telling him she wouldn’t be coming in for work until you were better. Fury didn’t argue—he knew her mind was made up, and nothing would bring her back until she was sure you were okay.

Hours passed with you fast asleep, and Natasha found herself sitting by the bed, watching over you, her own thoughts swirling. Guilt settled deep in her chest. She should’ve known. She should have done something before it got this bad. But none of those thoughts would help now. All she could do was be here, to make sure you didn’t have to go through any of this alone.

It wasn’t until evening that you finally stirred, groaning softly as you slowly sat up, rubbing at your temples. Your head was pounding, your body aching, but when you saw Natasha sitting there, waiting patiently, something inside you softened. She didn’t look mad or frustrated, just concerned, her eyes filled with a quiet, unwavering love that you felt you didn’t deserve, not after pushing yourself so hard and ignoring all of Natasha’s gentle warnings.

“I’m sorry…” You whispered, your voice barely above a hoarse murmur. Your gaze dropped to her lap, guilt heavy in your chest. You had worried her so much, put her through this, and all because you couldn’t say no at work.

But Natasha shook her head immediately, shifting closer, her hand gently brushing a stray tear from your cheek before cupping her face with a tenderness that made your heart ache. “Don’t apologize,” she said softly, her thumb stroking your soft skin. “You don’t have to say sorry for this.”

It was simple. Those words. But it broke something in you. You had been holding everything in for so long, trying to be strong, trying to manage it all on your own, but Natasha’s kindness, her gentle touch, undid everything. Tears slipped from your eyes before you could stop them, and within moments, you were crying completely, burying your face in Natasha’s shoulder as the weight of everything you had been holding back came crashing down.

She didn’t say a word, only held you closer, your arms wrapping around you protectively, letting you cry as long as you needed to. She pressed soft kisses into your hair, murmuring quiet reassurances, but mostly, she just listened. She knew you needed this release more than anything.

Eventually, through the sobs, your voice cracked, spilling the truth you had been too scared to admit. “He just… He makes me do so much. He’s so demanding, and no matter what I do, it’s never enough. I’m trying so hard, Nat, I’m trying to do everything right, but I can’t…”

Natasha closed her eyes as she listened, stroking your back soothingly, her own frustration simmering beneath the surface. She wanted to storm into your office and tell your boss exactly what she thought of him, but for now, all that mattered was you.

You sobbed into her shoulder, your words tumbling out between shaky breaths, “He… he piles everything on me, Nat. Every day, it’s something new. More deadlines, more expectations, and he doesn’t even care how late I have to stay. If I mess up—just once—he looks at me like I’m useless. I try so hard to keep up, but…”

Your voice cracked, the frustration and helplessness weighing so heavy on your shoulders, it was like a physical weight pressing you down. Your body trembled against Natasha, and all she could do was hold you tighter, one hand resting at the back of your head, her fingers threading gently through your hair.

“I… I just want to do my job, but he’s always expecting more, always demanding… and I can’t even say no, because if I do, I-I’ll get behind, and then—then I’ll look incompetent, and I can’t lose this job.” Your words came out in a rush, a desperate ramble as you tried to explain further, tried to make sense of the unbearable pressure you’ve been enduring. “I’m just so tired, Natasha. I’m so tired, and I can’t keep up anymore.”

Natasha listened in silence, her jaw clenched as she held you close. She felt your pain as if it were her own, every word twisting something deep inside of her. But beneath the surface of her calm, stoic exterior, something darker was brewing. Rage—pure, unfiltered rage—was bubbling up, so fierce it nearly consumed her. She could feel it burning in her chest, in her gut, the protective instinct inside her flaring dangerously as your words sunk in.

Your boss. The one who had drained you like this, the one who had pushed you so far you collapsed in the bathroom, throwing up from sheer exhaustion. Natasha wanted to march into that office and tear him apart. How could anyone treat someone as kind, as gentle, as hardworking as you this way? Her hands tightened around you slightly, but she forced herself to stay calm, to focus on the moment. You needed her right now, needed her love and her comfort, not her anger.

But in her mind, she was already planning.

“I… I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” you whispered, your voice hoarse and broken from crying. “I just… I just want to feel like I’m enough, Nat. I-I feel like I’m doing so much... and I’m so tired of feeling like I’m always failing.”

Natasha’s heart shattered at those words, but she kept her voice steady as she pressed her lips softly to your temple. “You are more than enough, milaya. You always have been. Your boss? He’s the problem, not you.”

You sniffled, pulling back slightly to look at her, your eyes red and puffy, but the pain was still etched deeply into your features. “I just… I don’t know what to do...”

Natasha wanted to tell you right then and there that you didn’t need to do anything, that she would take care of it, that she would storm into that office and make sure your boss never treated you this way again. But instead, she took a deep breath, her voice soft but firm as she held your gaze. “You don’t have to worry about anything anymore, detka. I’m here now, and I’m going to help you, okay?”

You nodded weakly, another tear slipping down your cheek, and Natasha gently wiped it away, her thumb lingering on your soft skin. But inside, Natasha was livid. She was already imagining ways to get her hands on your boss, imagining how satisfying it would be to make him pay for everything he had put you through.

For now, though, she pushed those thoughts aside and focused on you, pulling you close again. You were the priority. And Natasha silently promised herself that she would do whatever it took to protect you. She wasn’t going to let this go on any longer. She would make sure of it.

An hour later, Natasha was sitting up against the headboard of the bed you shared with her, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of her laptop screen. You were sound asleep beside her, breathing quietly, your body finally getting the rest it so desperately needed. Natasha glanced at you for a moment. She wanted to do everything she could to ensure you would never feel so broken again.

But for now, there was something else on her mind.

She pulled up her sleek, encrypted laptop—the one she used for her work with S.H.I.E.L.D., her missions, her other life. It was a tool for information, and right now, she needed to know everything about your boss. She typed quickly, her fingers flying over the keyboard with practiced precision, bypassing security walls and restricted databases. Within minutes, she had the man’s entire life laid out in front of her.

He wasn’t anything impressive. Natasha scrolled through his information, her brow furrowing with each new detail. He was 57 years old, with a wife and three kids—two daughters and a son. He had a mediocre degree in business from some underwhelming university, and his career trajectory was equally unimpressive. Fired from several previous jobs, all for various reasons that hinted at incompetence and poor management skills. He had only landed his current position because of a personal connection with one of the board members at your company.

Natasha’s lips pressed into a thin line as she absorbed the information. This was the man who had been making your life a living hell? A man who barely had the qualifications to run a business, let alone manage an entire office full of hardworking people? Her fingers hovered over the keys as she contemplated her next move. There were so many ways she could make his life difficult. She could anonymously tip off a competitor, sabotage his reputation, or even dig up dirt that would have him out of a job faster than he could blink.

But she hesitated, her eyes flicking back to you sleeping next to her. She couldn’t go too far—this was your life, and any drastic move could ripple back and cause more problems for you. Still, the thought of him sitting behind his desk, barking orders at you, draining you day after day, made her blood boil.

She leaned back against the headboard and closed her eyes, her mind racing. There had to be a way to make things right, a way to make sure you didn’t suffer under this man’s control any longer. She wasn’t just going to sit back and let you be destroyed by someone so insignificant. No, she was going to find a way to fix this. To protect you.

She closed the laptop gently and placed it on the bedside table, her mind already spinning with ideas. She wasn’t the kind of person who let those she loved be hurt. She would deal with this. One way or another, your boss would learn that no one messes with someone she loves.

She lay back down, pulling you into her arms as she drifted off, her mind already formulating her next steps. For now, though, she held you closer, her lips brushing your forehead.

The next morning, sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. You stirred beside her, your body moving instinctively as you began to sit up, a quiet groan escaping your lips. Natasha was already awake, watching you closely, her eyes sharp and calculating. She knew exactly what it was you were going to try to do.

"Where are you going?" Natasha’s voice was gentle but firm as she moved swiftly, already getting out of bed before you could muster a response.

You rubbed your eyes, still groggy. “I need to get ready for work…” You mumbled, pushing the covers aside. Your movements were slow, like you were still too tired to fully function, but your determination was clear.

But Natasha was faster, as always. She was already at the foot of the bed, blocking your path with crossed arms and a look that left no room for negotiation. “You’re not going to work today,” Natasha stated flatly, her voice unwavering.

You blinked, taken aback by Natasha’s tone. “But I—”

"No," Natasha cut her off, shaking her head as she stepped closer. "You collapsed yesterday. You threw up. You can barely stand right now. There's no way I’m letting you go back to that place, especially not today."

Your lips parted, a protest forming on the tip of your tongue, but Natasha held your gaze, unwavering and serious. "I already called in sick for you."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Natasha…"

"I’m not asking," Natasha added, her tone softening but still firm. She moved closer, resting her hands gently on your shoulders. "You’re staying in bed. You need to rest."

You sighed, your resolve faltering under your girlfriend’s care. "There’s still so much work I have to—"

"I don’t care," Natasha interrupted again, her voice a little more gentle now. "You’re not going back to work today." She paused, her eyes softening as she reached up to cup your face.

You bit your lip, looking down at your lap, conflicted. You knew Natasha was right. You knew your body couldn’t handle much more, not after yesterday, but the guilt still gnawed at you. "I just… I don’t want to fall behind."

"You’re not falling behind," Natasha reassured you, leaning in and brushing a kiss against your forehead. "You’re taking care of yourself. And that’s more important."

Your shoulders sagged as you gave in, sighing softly and leaning into her touch. "Okay," you whispered, your voice quiet and defeated, but also grateful. "I’ll stay in."

Natasha smiled softly, her fingers brushing through your hair. "Good," she whispered.

Without another word, Natasha gently guided you back down onto the bed, pulling the covers up around you. She pressed another soft kiss to your temple before straightening up. "I’ll make you some tea," Natasha said, glancing back over her shoulder. "And maybe some breakfast too."

You watched her, eyes heavy but filled with love and gratitude. “Thank you,” you whispered.

She just gave you a small smile, disappearing into the kitchen. Today, there would be no work. No stress. Just rest.

Natasha spent the entire day doting on you, hovering close by whenever she was needed. She moved through the apartment, focused entirely on making sure you were comfortable. Whether it was bringing tea to soothe your nerves or pressing a cool cloth against your forehead, Natasha never strayed far. Every time you stirred, she was there. When you needed water, she was there. When you needed to rest but couldn’t get comfortable, she shifted things around until everything was just right. There were no complaints, no sighs of frustration at all.

As the evening wore on and the quiet comfort of your day together began to settle into the apartment, Natasha knew she had to take care of something—something you didn’t need to know about. She sat on the edge of the bed, gently brushing her fingers through your hair, watching as you slowly drifted in and out of sleep. The concern was still etched on her face, her brows slightly furrowed even while you rested.

Natasha let out a slow sigh, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead again. “I need to head into headquarters for a bit,” she murmured quietly, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

Your eyes fluttered open just slightly, a soft groan escaping your lips as you blinked yourself awake. “Now?” you mumbled, still groggy, your voice rough from the day of rest.

Natasha smiled, trying to make it seem casual. “Just for a little while. I won’t be long. But you need to promise me something, okay?”

You looked up at her, still half-asleep, but you nodded weakly. “What?”

“Stay here,” Natasha said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. “No work. No emails. No phone calls. Just rest, okay? I mean it.” Her voice was soft but there was a steel edge to it, and you knew better than to argue when Natasha was like this.

“Okay,” you mumbled, your body sinking deeper into the pillows as you closed your eyes again. “I promise.”

Natasha smiled and stood up, giving you one last lingering look before grabbing her jacket and heading for the door. You didn’t need to know where she was really going. There was no need to worry you more than you already were.

This wasn’t about S.H.I.E.L.D. Natasha wasn’t heading into work.

She was going to pay your boss a little visit at the office—a "talk" that was long overdue. There were things that needed to be said, and she wasn’t going to let this man get away with pushing you to the brink any longer.

Natasha moved swiftly through the streets, her sharp instincts guiding her to your office building with practiced ease. The city had quieted down for the night, only the hum of distant traffic breaking the stillness. She had no real reason to hurry, but the tension in her chest urged her forward, faster.

At the building, it was as quiet as expected at this hour. Most of the employees had gone home hours ago, leaving only the security guards and a few late workers scattered in cubicles on the higher floors. Your boss, though, was always the last to leave. Natasha had done her research. She knew his routine. He liked to linger, even though he barely did anything of substance, making his staff stay late while he hid behind his office door, enjoying the title of authority he had somehow stumbled into.

Natasha slipped into the building with ease, her steps soundless as she navigated the hallways. She knew the place well from all the times she’d come to pick you up late at night. But tonight was different. Tonight wasn’t about waiting patiently in the car, hoping you would come out soon, looking worn but smiling.

This time, Natasha was the one who would leave him waiting.

When she finally reached his office, the dim light of his desk lamp cast long shadows across the room. She slipped inside without a sound, moving with the grace and stealth that only years of training could perfect. She found the perfect spot in a chair in front of his desk, just out of the light, where she could see the door in the reflection of the window but remain unseen. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of her lips as she imagined the look on his face when he found her there.

Sitting in the dark, Natasha’s thoughts drifted back to you—how pale and fragile you had looked just the night before, falling into your arms after trying to push through another hellish day. It angered her more than anything else. She could fight villains, take down global threats, but this man—this petty, power-hungry boss—was breaking you down in ways that Natasha couldn’t fight with her fists.

But tonight, she’d find a way. One that didn’t involve any violence, though the temptation lingered just beneath the surface.

The door to the office finally swung open, and your boss entered, his voice loud and cocky as he spoke into the phone. Natasha remained hidden in the shadows, her sharp gaze locked on him as he crossed the room, completely unaware of her presence. His tone was sickeningly sweet, but Natasha could hear the sleaze dripping off every word.

“I told you, sweetheart, I’ll be home soon,” he was saying, his back turned to Natasha. “No, no, my wife’s out of town. It’ll just be us.” He chuckled, the sound grating in the silence. “You’re still thinking about this weekend, aren’t you? God, I can’t wait.”

Natasha’s jaw tightened as she listened. Of course, she already knew about the affair—she had dug into his life thoroughly. This man was every bit as pathetic as he seemed, and every word out of his mouth only confirmed what she’d suspected. His voice continued, smug and arrogant as he paced in front of his desk.

“You just keep that dress ready for me, alright? I’ll take care of everything.”

The call ended with another disgusting chuckle, and as he pocketed his phone, still grinning to himself, Natasha decided it was time. The darkness cloaked her presence until the perfect moment. She let the silence linger, just long enough to unnerve him. And then, with a soft but unmistakable voice, she shattered the calm.

“You sure you’ve got everything under control?”

The sound of her voice cut through the room like a knife, and he froze mid-step. He turned slowly, his eyes widening as he finally noticed her sitting calmly in the dark corner of his office, legs crossed, her face barely visible in the dim light coming from the window. Natasha tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable, but the intensity of her gaze was unmistakable.

For a second, he said nothing, his face draining of color as the realization dawned on him that someone had been watching—listening.

You boss stammered, his voice shaky as his eyes darted around the room, looking for an escape. “Y-You’re … that… Black Widow…”

Natasha sat still and threatening in the chair in front of him, her piercing green eyes locked onto his face, her expression cold and calculated.

“Good,” she said, her voice low and steady, with a dangerous edge. “You know who I am.”

The man’s breath hitched as he took a small, trembling step back, the reality of the situation settling in. He had heard of her, of course. Everyone had. Black Widow. One of the Avengers. An assassin. The woman who had singlehandedly taken down entire criminal organizations and brought governments to their knees. And here she was, in his office—calm, composed, but undeniably lethal.

Your boss backed up against his desk, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edge. “A-Are you here to kill me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Natasha rolled her eyes, the question so typical, so small in comparison to what she was really after. “No,” she said flatly, her annoyance barely hidden behind her calm exterior.

“I-I have children,” he blurted out suddenly, as if that would somehow shield him from whatever fate he imagined was coming.

Natasha’s gaze hardened, her eyebrows furrowed, and her patience thinning. “I don’t want your children,” she said, her tone cold and dismissive.

“I-I didn’t—” he began to sputter, but Natasha cut him off with a raised hand, her eyes narrowing.

“Let’s skip the excuses,” she said, stepping closer. “I know exactly who you are too. I know what kind of boss you are, what kind of person you are, and I know what you’ve been putting (Y/n) through.”

His mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air, but no words came out. Natasha’s presence was suffocating, and he was utterly defenseless. He had never been in the presence of someone like her before, and it showed. His eyes flickered toward the door, and Natasha smirked.

“Don’t even think about it,” she warned, her tone laced with a quiet threat. “You’re going to stand there and listen very carefully to what I have to say.”

She leaned in even closer, her expression unchanging, cold, and stoic. Her calm demeanor was somehow more terrifying than if she'd raised her voice.

“(Y/n) is my girlfriend,” she began, her tone flat but every word carrying a heavy weight. “And what you're doing to her… all that work you’ve be been giving her… work that you are responsible for... It stops now.”

His eyes widened in fear, his breaths shallow and shaky. Natasha didn’t break eye contact, her gaze unwavering as she continued, “You’re overworking her. Taking advantage of her. And I don’t like it.”

She paused, letting her words settle before she delivered the final blow. “It’d be such a shame,” she added, her voice dropping an octave, “if your wife found out about the affair. Or maybe your kids—Matthew, Ellie, and little Amy—how do you think they’d feel knowing what kind of man their father really is?”

He flinched at the mention of his wife and children, a cold sweat breaking out across his forehead. It felt as though Natasha had pulled back a curtain, exposing him to the light of day, and he knew he had nowhere to hide. His face drained of color, his mouth opening slightly as he tried to find his words, but nothing came out. She had stripped him of every ounce of bravado, his secrets laid bare before her.

“I know everything,” she continued, unbothered by his panic. “I know that you sit here in your office all day playing some stupid card game on your computer, I know where you get your suits dry cleaned, I know what time you leave work, I know where you take your mistress. I know where your kids go to school, I know your wife’s phone number. I even know how much you’ve got stashed away in that offshore account of yours.

He began to tremble, his entire body frozen under her scrutiny. He trembled under her gaze. Her voice, so stoic and emotionless, sliced through the air like a knife, sending chills down his spine.

“You see, I know everything,” Natasha stepped back, her posture still intimidating. “So, you’re going to go in tomorrow and lighten her workload. You’re going to give her a week off, maybe two. Make it two weeks. You’re going to treat her with the respect she deserves. Or… Well, I’m sure your loving family would be very interested in some of the things that I know.”

He swallowed hard, his throat dry as he tried to muster a response, but no words came. The weight of her presence bore down on him, suffocating any bravado he might have had. He could feel the heat of her anger simmering just below the surface, the unspoken threats swirling in the air around them.

“Am I clear?” Natasha asked, her voice steady and unyielding, cutting through the silence like a blade. She leaned slightly forward, her intense gaze locking onto his, piercing through the last remnants of his bravado. “Or do I need to clarify?”

He trembled visibly, the reality of her presence pressing down on him like an anvil. “N-No,” he stammered, his voice barely a whisper. “I understand. I won’t… I’ll fix it.”

“Good,” she replied, her tone dropping slightly, the threat still lingering in the air. “Because I will be watching. I have no problem about coming back to pay you a visit if nothing changes.”

He nodded, sweat forming on his brow as he absorbed the weight of her words. The starkness of her promises echoed in his mind, and he couldn't shake the fear that if he didn’t comply, he wouldn’t just be facing consequences from his boss—but from someone who was far more formidable than he could ever imagine.

As she stepped out, adrenaline still coursing through her veins, a wave of satisfaction washed over her. She had made her point clear; the fear etched on your boss’s face replayed in her mind, a victory she hadn’t expected to feel so sweet. He had crumbled in an instant, leaving behind only a trembling shell, and that alone brought Natasha a certain degree of relief.

Yet, even as she walked down the deserted hallway, an urge to punch him lingered like a nagging itch. The thought of his arrogant smirk—now replaced by pure terror—satisfied her, but she couldn’t shake the image of him cowering. A part of her wishes she could have delivered a more physical message, a simple punch to the face would’ve sufficed. But as she rounded the corner, she reminded herself that she didn’t need to; it was a warning well delivered. He deserved every ounce of the panic she had instilled in him.

Natasha made it back home soon after, the familiar scent of home filling her nose, She could feel the weight of the day lift slightly, yet she knew it wasn’t over. Not until she held you close and assured you that everything would be alright.

As she made her way to the bedroom, Natasha paused for a moment at the door. She wanted to shield you from the harsh realities of your work life, to remind you how strong and valued you were. Most importantly, she needed to ensure that you would never feel overwhelmed or neglected again.

With a deep breath, Natasha pushed open the door. You lay curled up in bed, your face soft and peaceful. After getting dressed and ready for bed, Natasha sat on the edge of the bed, reaching a hand out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. She knew she had to be the partner you deserved—strong, protective, and fiercely devoted.

“Hey, baby,” Natasha whispered softly, feeling the warmth of your skin beneath her fingers. “I’m home.”

As you stirred, your eyes fluttered open, and a sleepy smile broke across your face.

Natasha couldn’t help but smile back, her heart swelling at the sight of you. She wasted no time pulling you into her chest, wrapping her arms around your waist as she laid back against the mattress. You nestled your face into the crook of Natasha’s neck, the familiar scent of her skin calming you.

She could feel the tension of the day slowly melting away as she held you close.

The morning sun rose and spilled into the room, casting a warm glow that danced across the sheets. You stirred, blinking the sleep from your eyes, and found Natasha propped up on one elbow, a soft smile gracing her lips. The sight was a balm for your weary soul, and you couldn’t help but return the smile.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Natasha said, her voice warm and inviting. “I’ll make us some coffee. Just relax.”

With that, she slipped out of bed. As Natasha disappeared into the kitchen, your gaze drifted to your phone lying on the bedside table. You reached for it, the screen lighting up with notifications. One message caught your eye—an all-too-familiar name that made your stomach churn. It was from your boss.

“(Y/n), I hope you’re feeling better. You have two weeks off to rest after your collapse. Take care of yourself.”

You stared at the message, your brow furrowing as you furrowed your eyebrows. You reread the text, half-expecting the words to rearrange themselves into something more familiar—something like the condescending, rushed notes you typically received from your boss. But there it was, plain as day.

It felt insane, almost surreal. He had never been this nice before. Your boss was notorious for pushing his employees to their limits, often leaving them feeling drained and unappreciated. The idea that he would suddenly show concern for your well-being felt foreign, like a mirage shimmering just beyond your reach. You thought back to the countless late nights spent at the office, the way he’d demanded more and more from you. Was this a ploy? Some sort of strategic move to save face after your collapse?

Your heart raced as you considered the implications. Two weeks off could be a gift—or it could be a way to push you out without having to deal with the consequences of his actions. The knot in your stomach tightened.

Natasha walked into the bedroom, the gentle clink of ceramic against wood breaking the silence as she placed a steaming mug of tea on the bedside table. The aromatic steam curled upward, mingling with the soft morning light filtering through the curtains.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her brow slightly furrowed in concern.

You glanced up, the unexpected news still swirling in your mind. “I’ve… got two weeks off?” The words left your lips with disbelief, like you were trying to comprehend a twist in a plot that you never saw coming.

Natasha raised an eyebrow, a hint of surprise crossing her features. “Oh, that… that’s a good thing, no?” she replied, a slight smile tugging at her lips as she took a sip of her coffee, clearly unaware of the storm brewing inside you.

“But why would he…” Your voice trailed off, your thoughts racing back to the myriad ways your boss had mistreated you, the way he thrived on making you do so much work, squeezing every ounce of productivity out of you until you could hardly keep your eyes open.

Then, you turned your gaze to Natasha, who seemed utterly at ease, wrapped in the comfort of the morning routine. But you knew all of Natasha’s faces and tendencies—knew the moments when she was holding something back, when the corners of her mouth hinted at secrets.

“Did you have something to do with this?”

Natasha’s expression shifted, the casual confidence fading just a fraction. She set her mug down slowly, the soft thud echoing in the stillness.

“What do you mean?” She asked, feigning innocence, but you could see the flicker of something—was it guilt? Or perhaps a hint of pride?

“Natasha,” you pressed, searching your girlfriend’s eyes for the truth.

She knew she couldn’t keep anything from you; it was one of the many things she loved about her relationship with you. The honesty, the trust—it was a delicate balance, but one she cherished deeply.

“Fine, I… talked to him for a bit,” she admitted, the words slipping out with a reluctant sigh.

Your expression shifted, your brows knitting together as realization settled in. “Is that where you were last night, when you told me you’d be at HQ?”

Natasha winced slightly. “Yeah, that’s… that’s exactly where I was,” she confessed, knowing you could see right through her.

You sat up straighter, your curiosity piqued. “What did you say to him? Did you threaten him?”

Natasha bit her lip lightly, a tad bit shameful, trying to lighten the mood despite the serious undertones of the conversation. “Maybe a little,” she said, but her smile faded as she caught the concerned look on your face. “I just told him to treat you right. That you’re not some disposable employee he can push around. That’s all, really.”

“And what did he say?”

“He was… well, he was scared,” Natasha replied, her tone steady but tinged with frustration. “I told him that if he didn’t back off, I… wouldn’t expose his secrets.”

Your eyes widened, “You can’t just go around threatening people, Natasha. That’s not how this works!”

“I know, I know,” she said, running a hand through her hair in frustration. “But I couldn’t just sit back and watch him run you into the ground. You’re too important to me, (Y/n).”

Your heart softened at her words, your irritation ebbing away as you recognized the fierce protectiveness in your girlfriend’s voice. “I appreciate it, really,” you said, your tone more gentle now. “You could get in trouble for this, you know...”

“I don’t care,” Natasha shook her head, her eyes fierce with determination. “I didn’t like how he was treating you. Your health comes first. I can’t keep watching you exhaust yourself when you have no need to be.”

“Natasha, you can’t just fix everything with threats,” you replied, your voice soft yet firm, trying to find the right balance between gratitude and apprehension. “What if he retaliates?”

Natasha shrugged slightly, her confidence going strong. “He won’t. And I’m not worried about me. I’m worried about you. You’ve been working yourself to the bone, and it’s not okay.”

You felt a rush of warmth flood your heart as you listened to her. “But, I’m just—”

“Just what?” Natasha interrupted, leaning closer, her voice dropping to a softer tone. “You’re not just anything. You’re my girlfriend, I love you, and I care about you more than anything. You deserve to be treated with respect.”

Your cheeks flushed, the sincerity of her words wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

You sighed, your heart swelling with gratitude as you looked back up at her.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

Natasha settled beside you on the bed, leaning in to plant a soft kiss at the corner of your mouth. Jokingly, she added, “You know, if you ever decide you don’t want to work again, I will happily provide for anything you need or want.”

“Shut up,” you laughed, rolling your eyes playfully, but the hint of a smile tugged at your lips. “As if I would ever let you do that.”

She shrugged, feigning indifference, though the playful glint in her eyes betrayed her. “You think I wouldn’t make an excellent sugar mama? I could totally rock that role.”

“Right, because the world needs more dangerous assassins running a trust fund,” you shot back with another giggle.

“I think I’ll have you know, I’d be also be very happy woman if I got to spoil you everyday.”

“You already do.” You rolled your eyes again, smiling at her softly. “What were his… secrets?”

Natasha gave you a smug smile and shook her head, “He’s an unfaithful husband and he gambles a huge amount of money. That’s it, really. But he’s too scared to confront his family about it… I also think he was mostly scared I’d hurt him. Other than that, he’s just an asshole. I can’t believe someone like him was the reason behind you being so exhausted all the time. God, I really wanted to punch him.”

Your cheeks flushed with color as you threw your head back, laughter spilling from your lips, and in that moment, Natasha was reminded of just how beautiful you were when you let yourself unwind, free from work, worries and stress. The sound warmed her from the inside out, chasing away the shadows that had lingered from those long days when you had been too exhausted to find joy.

The worry Natasha had felt for you began to dissolve with each chuckle that escaped her lips, each teasing jab that came out with a playful glint in your eye. She couldn’t help but grin wider. She moved even closer, unable to resist the pull of your happiness. She reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, moving her head to place a great many soft kisses against your cheek.

"I’ve missed this," she said softly, her smile unwavering as she gazed into your eyes, feeling as if the weight of the world had lifted, if only for a little while. "I’ve missed you."

You smiled at her.

And Natasha stared, captivated and unable to stop her lips from curving upwards. She promised to herself that she’d protect that smile of yours, that no one was ever going to take it away from you ever again, not while she was there.

navigation | n.r. masterlist

#bellaveux writes!#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #marvel x reader #mcu x reader #avengers x reader

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evilminji · 6 months ago

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O.O!!! :Dc wait a second.... Aquaman >.>

Good JOB Brain! That IS a good idea!

Don't know if YOU GUYS all know this? But Arthur? Son of a Lighthouse keeper and the Queen of Atlantis? THAT Arthur Curry aka. Orin? Has CONSIDERABLY enhanced durability. Like... *hit by a car* "ha. Cute." Enhanced.

It's because of the DEEP Sea water pressure he's built for.

I bring this up? Because the man is a legit BAMF. Absolutely TERRIFYING near any body of water. Dude has SUPER STRENGTH AND HYDROKINESIS. Not ONLY are YOU filled with water, but every street corner in the world has pipes! He is NEVER not armed.

That's not including the "yes I can ask a lobster to take your dick off" thing.

But most of all? He has the RAGE. The lifetime of injustice after injustice. His home under attack, his people suffering and regarded as LESS. The poison dumped into their air. Their lands taken, PRESUMED the property of land dwellers.

Treated as criminals and monsters should they DARE defend themselves.

Yet? He is a leader. A husband, father, mentor. The death of his child can not take from him that title. Nor years numb that pain. He strives to be good. Be wise. Live well.

Yet? There is once AGAIN fuckery in his ocean. Some "secret" lab. Poking at a swirling green portal. At the BOTTOM OF THE SEA. For God's sake, they DO REALIZE, you can't HIDE things from him down here, RIGHT?

It looks radioactive.

He refuses to have that so close to Atlantis.

Sends a notice up to the Watchtower, a call back to his Wife, and leads the gaurd team in. Painfully easy, really. Bog standard humans, caught off gaurd. Right until one of them does something... stupid.

He tries to blow the place. Destroy evidence. It would kill all of them. Which is not Arthur's main concern. No, what IS? Is that it would dump radioactive SOMETHING into the waters near Atlantis.

He dives forward. They struggle. A button is smashed and...

Their containment field drops.

They had been keeping it in a perfect vacuum.

Arthur is sucked in.

Watches, in free fall, as his men's faces turn to horror. As they desperately dive to follow him. Loyal. True. But ultimately too late. He curses himself as he loses sit of them. But forces himself to focus, twist, get his feet under him. His is in air, above LAND.

He hits HARD.

But not the ground like he had planned.

He's slamed, at an awkward, frantic, angle and knocked off course. His weight crashing down onto a scrawny slip of a boy, who weezes and struggles to get a proper grip. His arms not quite long enough to go all the way around his barrel of a chest.

He helps, by slinging an arm over his young savior.

Only then, does he notice, the tiny crown of ice and nebula, poking at a jaunty angle from the child's head.

Their landing would be rough, had Arthur not caught them, once he gets close enough to the ground. The young royal gasping for air, having clearly pushed his limits to get to Arthur in time. He hauls himself up. Not yet a man, but not as young as Arthur feared. His eyes glow.

"Hoooly SHIT. Are you okay?! I hit you really hard! I'm so, SO sorry! I panicked! And-"

Honestly? A little bruised. But nothings he's going to ADMIT too.

More concerning? The injuries.

There's a screech of tires turning sharp corners. Sirens getting closer. The young king whips around. Terror seeping onto his face. It gives Arthur an unobstructed view of pointed ears, softly glowing skin with star like freckles, and scars that creep up the child's neck. He does not like the picture being painted.

"We have to GO. Now. Please, I'll explain in a moment! But we have to go NOW!"

Really, REALLY does not like the picture. And he has WAYS of dealing with such things as this. But safety first. Prioritize the children. They go. He vows to get answers. And all around Amity? Certain individuals days are NUMBERED.

@babbling-babull @hdgnj @the-witchhunter @hypewinter @mutable-manifestation @lolottes @nerdpoe

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dc x dp prompt #aquaman #minji's writing #AquaDad Au #Water Wrath Au

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1800-fight-me · 2 months ago

Text

Future

Logan Howlett x Female!Reader Rating: E (Explicit-MINORS DO NOT INTERACT) Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, explicit PiV sex as well as oral sex (M&F receiving), breeding kink, and daddy kink (oof) Word count: A little over 8.3k Synopsis: Logan goes back to the past in an attempt to save the world, but more importantly- you. (Set in X-Men Days of Future Past and switches between Logan and Reader's POV) Author’s note: Something about Logan makes me absolutely insane to the point that I wrote the longest most explicit sex scene I've ever written.... please enjoy P.S. I do not have a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on! Comments and reblogs make my day! Main Masterlist

LOGAN’S POV

The future was dark and bleak. A war of uncontrollable violence, more than Logan had ever seen in his long life.

The only bright spot in such a horrific future was you. You were the peace and rest his aching soul had long been searching for.

It started as two people seeking solace and relief in one another, but the foundation of friendship created something so much more significant than either of you could have predicted.

You became the planet around which he orbited. The home he never thought he’d find. The balm to his raging fire.

Despite the hell that was life in the future, he had you. It was fitting that it caused the world falling to shit for him to finally find you.

His self deprecating thoughts also told him that it was fitting that he lost you too. He didn’t deserve a love so pure and bright. He didn’t deserve such happiness when everyone else he cared about was either suffering or dead.

All the blood on his hands left him marked, scarred, filthy down to his soul. But you looked past all of that, claimed you loved him anyway, claimed him.

He was yours completely, worshiped at the altar of your affection, would go any lengths for you- do anything you ask.

He would do anything to protect you, and it was the biggest black mark on his soul, after an extended lifetime full of mistakes, that he wasn’t able to protect you when it mattered the most.

He shredded the sentinels, the unkillable soldiers in his rage, but one had slipped past his defenses, used your own healing powers against you and sucked the life right from you. Snuffed out your bright light all too soon.

He killed, and killed, and killed- and it still didn’t bring you back.

No one and nothing but him made it out of that abandoned warehouse that night. It was the tipping point for him, it made him bloodthirsty and reckless. It made him willing to go along with Charles and Eric’s ridiculous plan.

As he laid down on the stone slab and allowed the young mutant to send him to the past, his thoughts were only on you.

Everyone knew what his hopes were, but it went unspoken for fear it wouldn’t come true. Logan went back to the past with the desperate desire that he would wake up in a future in which you were still alive. A future he hadn’t already destroyed with the worst mistake he’d ever made. A better future. One you deserved, he would give you anything and everything you asked if he could bring you back.

He woke in 1973 in the arms of a woman who wasn’t you, a woman he didn’t really remember. He hadn’t met you yet in 1973, unfortunately it would be a long while before he met you. And besides, he didn’t have time to search for you, he only had enough time for his mission.

He could only hold onto the hope that he would see you again in the future, if he could change things for the better- if he could finally do something right.

You were his motivation through dealing with younger versions of Charles and Eric, through all the missteps and mistakes, he tried his best to not lose hope.

One last chance, after the mess that was Paris, this intervention was the only possibility of setting things right.

They had to prevent Raven from killing Trask at this ridiculous anti-mutant presentation. Logan was inclined to agree with Raven at this point, but he knew the outcome of that decision and it was one he couldn’t live with.

He and Hank made their way through the large crowds as Hank pushed Charles’ wheelchair, all focused only on their task at hand. Logan scanned the crowd, looking for Mystique despite the fact that Charles would be the only one able to find her.

A voice met his ears, one that made his spine go rod straight. A voice he had unconsciously trained himself to seek out over years.

“I really don’t want to be here,” the voice grumbled.

Logan whipped his head to the left so quickly that if it was possible he probably would have given himself whiplash.

It was you.

His heart pounded harder than it had in the entirety of his two hundred something years.

He stopped dead in his tracks and it was a force of will to not stare at you with his mouth hanging open.

You looked different, but the same. You were younger obviously, your hairstyle and clothes were completely different, but that was you.

His hand ached with the need to hold you, just one more time.

“Please, I get extra credit for attending this thing and I can’t fail my government class,” the woman who he assumed was your friend whined as she clutched at your wrist.

He did a mental tally in his head. Of course, he should’ve remembered that in the early seventies you were in a college not too far from Washington DC. It really wasn’t a huge coincidence that you would be here, but still it felt monumental.

You looked over at her and huffed in resignation.

God, you were cute, he thought.

“Besides, maybe you can meet a handsome guy here. That would lift your spirits, wouldn’t it?” your friend said as she wiggled her eyebrows at you.

You rolled your eyes and said, “This isn’t a bar, Jenna. This is anti-mutant government propaganda bullshit.”

As did so often, he agreed with you.

She pouted at you. “Well what if I promise to take you to a bar right after this ends?”

You looked over at her in exasperated fondness and let her pull you forward, closer to where Logan and Hank stood in the crowd.

Hank was saying something to him, something he didn’t hear - his attention entirely on you, and he snapped his head back to Hank as he shook his shoulder.

“What?” Logan snapped.

“Who are you looking at? Do you see Raven?” Hank asked.

Logan took a deep breath and said, “No. I’m looking at my wife.”

“Oh no,” Hank muttered.

“Logan you can’t-“

”It’s not safe for her here,” Logan growled.

————————————————-

YOUR POV

“Look, that guy is looking at you,” Jenna whispered in your ear.

You followed her line of sight and saw the most handsome man you’d ever seen.

He was exactly your type and in tight jeans to boot. He was huge- tall and extremely muscular. His dark hair was the kind of neat disheveled that begged you to run your fingers through it. His eyes were hidden by sunglasses but you could feel his intense gaze through them.

“Holy shit he’s good looking,” you murmured and your friend giggled.

He looked over at who you assumed was his friend and you continued to take him in. You weren’t sure you’d ever checked out a stranger in such a blatant manner before. There was something about him so inviting, despite his tense posture and intense demeanor, that your mouth was practically watering.

“The guy next to him is cute too. Maybe we should go talk to them,” Jenna said.

You tore your eyes from the object of your lust, and looked at the man next to him. He was cute in a nerdy way- exactly Jenna’s type. There was a third man with them, he was in a wheelchair and had his fingers to his temple as he scanned the crowd clearly in search of something or someone important.

“I think they’re coming to us,” you said as the nerdy guy walked towards you.

But unfortunately, the one you wanted to come closer didn’t, he stayed with his companion in the wheelchair and bent down to whisper something in his ear.

“Hey ladies,” the man in glasses said as he approached you and Jenna.

She immediately began to smile and twirl her hair around her finger as she spoke with him eagerly.

He introduced himself as Hank and you shook his hand and introduced yourself as well, but your eyes continued to drift behind him to the other man, the one who you felt an inexplicable tug toward.

“What about your friend?” you asked, your words an interruption to whatever Hank had been saying to Jenna.

Hank looked stressed, but you looked back at the large man only a stone's throw away.

He looked up and made eye contact with you, he must have taken his sunglasses off while you weren’t paying attention. Never before had you felt so stripped bare by just meeting a man’s eyes, there was a whirlwind of emotions within them- something akin to familiarity, possibly even love, and hunger.

It took several moments of drowning in his gaze before you regained your wits about you. You smirked at him.

He crossed his arms over his chest, which made him appear even larger as his muscles flexed. He raised a brow at you, but his lips were upturned in a small smile as if he was smiling despite himself.

You crooked a finger at him, an invitation to come closer.

He smiled and shook his head slightly, almost as if he were reprimanding himself but also couldn’t help himself. He turned his head and said something to his friend in the wheelchair before he strutted over to you.

Every long stride he took towards you led to a tightening in your chest. It wasn’t fear, no, it was yearning. There was something inside you that wanted- no, needed, to know him.

Your instincts were all wrong, he looked like a predator closing in on his prey, something about him sharp and animalistic as he approached you, and yet you felt at ease, intrigued, safe.

“Hi,” you breathed out as he reached you. He smirked and stood a bit closer than would be normal for a stranger, but you didn’t mind at all as you looked up at his towering figure.

He introduced himself in a low gravelly voice that sent a shiver down your spine and hearing his name was like an answer to a question you didn’t even know you’d been asking.

Logan.

You told him your name and he had this secret smile as if he already knew what you were going to say.

He repeated your name, and something in you changed forever at the sound of it on his lips.

“How come you didn’t wanna come say hi?” You asked teasingly.

He looked at you and you felt more at home than ever before, which you knew sounded insane, but you couldn’t deny the way he made you feel.

“Oh I wanted to,” he said and warmth filled you as you smiled at him.

“Logan,” Hank hissed as he elbowed him.

You’d honestly forgotten that you and Logan weren’t the only two people in the world at that moment. You’d forgotten about Jenna, and Hank, and the teeming crowd of people around you.

“I know,” Logan replied to Hank in a grumpy tone that made you huff a small laugh.

“Listen, I know this is going to sound crazy, but you need to leave. This isn’t safe,” Logan said fervently as he placed a large hand gently on your upper arm.

You scrunched your brows at him in confusion.

“Is this some kind of ploy to get me to leave with you?” You joked.

He chuckled, the sound from deep in his chest, and you grinned.

“If only,” he said. “No, pretty girl, I have to stay here.”

“I’m sorry, I’m confused,” you said.

His thumb rubbed up and down your arm in a way that was both comforting and familiar.

He glanced over at your friend, and as he saw that she was deep in conversation with Hank, he leaned closer to you in order to whisper in your ear.

“This isn’t a safe place for mutants,” he murmured, urgency in his voice.

You pulled back enough to look into his eyes, shock evident in your expression.

“How do you know-“ you gasped quietly.

He shook his head, “I’m one too, I can explain everything later, but please- for your own safety sweetheart, please leave.”

You met his gaze and something about the urgency and care you found in his eyes made you believe him.

“I suppose I’ll take your word for it. There’s a bar across town called McClarin’s, will you meet me there tonight? You can buy me a drink and explain all this weirdness.” You said.

There was a flash of something akin to sadness in his eyes, but he gave you a tight smile and said, “Of course, I’ll be there. I’d do anything you ask.”

You believed him.

So you turned your head to your friend and said, “Jenna, we’re leaving.”

You ignored her protests and stood on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to Logan’s cheek.

His hazel eyes fluttered closed, as if he were savoring the feeling of your lips against his skin.

“Until tonight,” you said as you slipped your hand in Jenna’s. He nodded in agreement and you turned and walked away from him.

“Why are we leaving?” Jenna complained.

“They’re going to meet us at the bar later, we can watch the broadcast on the TV,” you said.

She huffed but agreed as you led her out of the crowd and towards safety.

A little while later you sat at the bar with Jenna- you ate pretzels and nursed a beer, and watched the news.

Logan had been right, it was a dangerous situation for mutants.

Tears filled your eyes and your heart dropped into your stomach as you watched as Logan was massacred by Magneto. His body was violently filled with pieces of metal and then thrown so far the cameras didn’t catch where he landed.

He had to be dead, no one survived something like that. He saved your life and then didn’t survive the fight he protected you from.

None of the news outlets had any information on your mysterious savior.

You spent the evening calling both hospitals and morgues and no one had any knowledge of Logan or even a John Doe that matched his description.

Weeks went by with no news. There was a hole in your heart, which seemed ridiculous considering you’d only met him once, but there was something about a promise unfulfilled.

There was a feeling as if your future had been altered completely, as if Logan was supposed to be a part of it but now he never would be.

————————————————-

Your mutant ability to heal others and yourself led you to work in a hospital as a nurse after you completed all of your schooling.

Years passed and you met Storm when she literally landed in your hospital, as in she was thrown by an enemy and crashed through the ceiling.

You stared at her in shock, then jumped towards her and used your powers to heal the gash in her stomach where blood had already begun pooling. She thanked you before flying off into battle once more.

Once the fight was won, Storm came back and asked you to come with her to Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters.

You were intrigued and soon found yourself as a professor of health sciences, part time school nurse, and an X-Man on the side. You weren’t much of a fighter, during missions you really mostly hung back and healed the injured X-Men as well as any civilians fought in the crossfire.

It was a fulfilling life, one you enjoyed immensely, but something always felt like it was missing. You dated a bit but being so busy prevented anything deep.

There was no spark, no instant connection with anyone like there had been with Logan. You supposed it really was a once in a lifetime experience.

It didn’t help that you weren’t interested in anyone romantically that you worked with. Storm, who had quickly become a great friend, encouraged you to give Hank a chance when he pursued you. You tried, he was nice, but it just wasn’t love, and after a few months you ended it. Luckily you were able to remain as friends.

Time passed and Professor X pointed out to you that you didn’t appear to age. At first you brushed him off as ridiculous, but eventually consented to let Jean run tests on you.

As it turned out, your ability to heal yourself extended to things such as diseases and life’s natural course of aging.

Eternity yawned its horrid mouth open before you and the loneliness of it threatened to swallow you whole.

You took a leave of absence to avoid others seeing you in the midst of an existential crisis. You traveled for a couple of months, took time to see the world in a way you never had before, met beautiful strangers, and came to terms with the fact that it was likely you would never die, that any connections you did make would die long before you were ever ready.

You decided to make the most of life, embrace the joy and the hurt, and returned home.

As soon as you walked through the door of the mansion, everything felt different, but perhaps it was you that was changed so irrevocably.

You made your way towards Professor X’s office and literally ran into a man as he walked out.

“Ugh,” you groaned as your face squished into a broad chest. The body you slammed into was so sturdy the man didn’t even stumble, he merely placed large hands on your shoulders to steady you.

“Woah there, speedy. You alright?” A deep voice said. Something about that voice tickled something in the back of your brain, a memory from years ago.

“Sorry!,” you exclaimed as you stepped back and looked up to see his face.

“Logan,” you breathed out in surprise as you finally saw him. He looked nearly the same as all those years ago. His hair and clothes were slightly different, but it was definitely him. He was as handsome as the day you lost him.

He raised a brow in confusion as he looked at you.

“Have we met?” He asked.

Your heart dropped into your stomach. The man of your dreams, the man you thought had died and yet you had continued to pine over for years, was standing before you and didn’t remember you. He didn’t remember meeting you, an experience that had been so cataclysmic in your life but apparently unimpressionable in his.

“Yes, many years ago,” you breathed out.

He looked you up and down and said, “Well, I really wish I remembered that.”

You huffed a laugh to cover up the ache in your heart as you looked down at your feet. You told him your name as his hands finally slipped from your shoulders, you mourned the loss of his touch.

As he repeated your name in that gravelly tone your heart thumped harder in your chest, despite yourself.

“I don’t remember anything before a few years ago,” he said.

“Oh?” You asked. Maybe it wasn’t that you were forgettable, it was just that he didn’t remember anything.

“What happened?” You breathed out.

Confusion and echoes of pain clouded his gorgeous hazel eyes. “I don’t remember, but I know it was painful,” he said.

You placed a hand on his arm in comfort and said, “Maybe the professor can help you figure it out.”

He nodded, “Not sure if I’ll be sticking around long enough. Being on a team isn’t really my thing.”

“Sure it’s not,” you teased with a wink, thinking back to the team he was clearly a part of back when you met him.

He grumbled something you didn’t quite catch at the same time Charles came out of his office to greet you.

You bid Logan goodbye as you followed Charles into his office to catch up after your extended absence.

Your heart still pounded from meeting Logan and you wore a grin you couldn’t prevent for several minutes.

And to your delight, you found out later in the day that Logan decided to stay. You weren’t sure what the deciding factor was, but you were happy all the same.

Maybe things would fall into place, perhaps your future could end up brighter than previously anticipated.

————————————————-

LOGAN’S POV

Logan awoke, the same song playing on the radio, your song. He lurched out of the bed and stumbled out of the room. As he opened the door wonder filled him as he realized he was in the mansion.

Children bustled past him as they went to their classes. Friends and family that were long since passed in his future smiled and waved at him as he walked through his home eyes full of wonder.

It had worked, all the effort and pain had been worth it, everything was as it should be. The only question that remained was you. Where were you?

He made his way to Charles’ office and sighed in relief when he saw him safe and alive.

His old friend welcomed him back to the future, a better future.

“Where is she?” He breathed out as Charles read his mind, getting a glimpse of his past.

“She’s here, she’s safe, but Logan you should know-“

At that moment you walked into Charles’ office and if Logan wasn’t already sitting he would’ve fallen to his knees. He’d never seen such a beautiful sight.

He breathed out your name like a prayer and you looked over at him. He didn’t even register the look on your face, he’d already made his way across the room and wrapped you in his arms.

“Logan,” you squeaked out. “What the hell?”

He lifted you up and buried his face in your neck.

“Can’t breathe,” you huffed as you pushed on his shoulders in an attempt to get him to release you from the vice hold he had you in.

He put you down and looked down at you, placed a hand on the side of your gorgeous face- it wasn’t until now that he took in your expression.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

You pulled back from him again, even went so far as to push his hand from you and took a step back.

“What’s gotten into you? Why the hell do you think you can just-” You asked in confusion, irritation coloring your tone.

He cut you off as he blurted out, “What? I don’t understand-“

“Logan, in this timeline you and her broke up,” Charles said.

“Broke up?” Logan asked with raised eyebrows, the words lacked any meaning to him. There was no future in which he and you were not together. It was inconceivable.

“That’s ridiculous,” Logan said. At the same time you asked, “this timeline?”

You both looked at one another in confusion.

“Sit, both of you, let me explain,” Charles said.

Logan sat and watched your expression change from suspiciousness to utter shock as Charles explained that Logan was from a different future, a different timeline, and had replaced the Logan you knew.

He didn’t remember anything after 1973, other than the horrible future he had come from. But he did remember the first time you met that day in Washington DC. Although for him that was far from the first time you’d met.

“That’s a lot of information. I think you broke my brain- that’s so confusing,” you breathed out.

Logan’s heart threatened to beat out of his chest as he tried to gauge your reaction.

You turned to him. “So in this future I’m guessing you and I are together?”

Logan nodded.

“Well not in this one,” you muttered and stood to leave.

“Wait, princess - talk to me,” Logan pleaded as he grabbed your hand.

You turned back and glared at him. “Logan, I don’t care which version of you it was, you broke my heart and I have no interest in sitting here listening to any more of this.”

You yanked your hand from his and stormed out of the office. You left him feeling helpless and empty.

He looked over at the Professor. “What happened?” He asked.

“It’s still fresh. The others have found her crying multiple times over the last few days. I tried not to pry but-“

“You went into her head,” Logan guessed and Charles nodded.

He prepared himself for the worst and the flicker of hope in his chest began to gutter. He would be devastated if after all of this he couldn’t be with you.

“The two of you have been together for about five years, were close friends for years before that, but she ended it about a week ago during an argument. She wanted to have a child and you didn’t,” Charles explained.

“That’s it? She wants a baby? I’ll give her a baby. I’ll give her whatever she wants, the version of me from this timeline must be a goddamn idiot,” Logan said sharply.

Charles chuckled. “I spoke to the other you yesterday, he had come to the same conclusion. It wasn’t that he didn’t want a child, he was just letting his fears get in the way.”

“I have to go talk to her,” Logan practically growled as he stood and stalked out of the office in search of you.

It wasn’t difficult to find you. He had memorized the sound of your heartbeat, your scent, and was all too familiar with the salty tang of your tears.

He found you in a bedroom he assumed was yours, he knocked and let himself in despite your garbled yell of, “Go away!”

It was clear this was the makeshift room you’d moved into after the break up, your decorations were all in boxes, your clothes piled everywhere and spilled out of drawers, and everything all together more messy and haphazard than he knew you liked to keep things.

You sat curled in the bed as tears streamed down your sweet face.

“Go away Lo,“ you sniffled as you quickly wiped your tears away.

“Oh, my sweet girl-“ Logan said in a gentle voice only you knew.

“No, Logan I’m not yours anymore,” the words were weak and he could tell you didn’t even really mean them.

He came closer to the bed and you glared at him but didn’t say a word as he sat down and pulled you into his lap.

You sunk into his embrace and buried your face in his neck. He ran his hand up and down your back soothingly.

Your fingers tangled into his shirt, your breaths were shaky, and a few more tears managed to escape. His heart ached at the pain you were in.

“I changed the timeline of our universe to be with you. I’m not gonna let anything stand in our way. So, you want a baby, I’ll give you a baby. I’ll give you as many babies as you want. I’ll give you anything you want, I’d do anything for you. I love you,” he said and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“But-“

“And before you ask, Charles told me that the Logan in this future had come to the same conclusion and was planning on making things right with you today. In every timeline, I want to make you happy.”

He wiped the tears from your face and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Did we ever talk about kids in your future?” You asked in a soft vulnerable voice.

He held you tighter.

“Only once, but it wasn’t a possibility for us, that future was too dangerous. So dangerous that I lost you. I wouldn’t survive losing you again.”

At the pain in his voice you pulled back enough to meet his gaze.

“Tell me about that future,” you asked gently.

And so he did, every awful part of it as he held you in his arms and reminded himself that this was real, that you were safe and alive, that this was his new future.

You wiped the tear that slipped down his face as you looked up at him in awe.

“You did all that for me? For us?” You asked in wonder.

“I’d do anything for you,” he said fervently. You placed your hand on the side of his face and his eyes fluttered closed as he finally, finally received affection from you after so long.

He nuzzled his face into your hand, pressed his lips against the pulse point at your wrist, finally let himself sink into your intoxicating presence.

You slipped your hand into his hair and pressed a featherlight kiss to his lips. The weight of time without you pressed in on him and his self control snapped, with one hand on the back of your head and the other on your waist, he crushed you against his body and kissed you with desperation.

He wanted to consume you, to sink inside you, to never be apart from you again.

You made a high pitched sweet sound of surprise before you kissed him just as fervently. He groaned into your mouth at the taste of you as his tongue slipped into your mouth.

It was absolute heaven.

This kiss could have gone on for hours or perhaps only seconds, he didn't know, no time was enough with you.

You pulled back and looked at him. “I love you,” you said.

“I love you,” he groaned and pressed his lips to yours repeatedly.

You breathed out a soft giggle at his expression of adoration.

He tilted his head back to look you deep in the eyes once more and said, “Let’s make a baby.”

You looked flustered and he thought it was the sweetest thing he’d ever seen.

“Right now? I-“

“I’ve missed you so much, sweetheart. I want to. Wanna give you want you want,” he moaned as he kissed you again.

“Missed you too,” you whimpered as his lips drifted across your jaw and down your throat.

————————————————-

YOUR POV

It was all consuming. He was everywhere all at once as he laid you on your back and pressed himself on top of you.

The weight and heat of him was both comforting and intoxicating. The last few hours had given you emotional whiplash, but it was Logan.

Apparently he was your soulmate no matter the timeline. He kissed you as if he were drowning and you were his breath of fresh air. He said everything you’d been dreaming of, and more as he declared his love and promised to fulfill your every desire.

There was nothing the two of you couldn’t overcome as a team. You loved him and he loved you, and maybe that was all that mattered.

As he bit down on your neck, all other thoughts flew from your head, it was just him. You and him- forever. There would be no long lonely life, he would be by your side always.

“Logan,” you gasped and he groaned against your neck as he continued to nip and suck at the skin there. He loved to mark you as his and the thought made your toes curl.

As if he could read your mind, he said, “Tell me you’re mine.”

His tongue licked up the column of your throat and you panted, “I’m yours, Lo. Only yours.”

“Marry me,” he murmured against your skin.

‘What?” You breathed out as you placed your hands on either side of your face and pulled him back enough to meet his hazel gaze. His pupils were blown with a combination of love and lust which caused heat to fill your entire body.

“Marry me,” he repeated, then pressed his lips to yours again.

“Yes,” you gasped into his mouth. His fingers gripped your waist tighter as they slipped under your shirt and met your heated skin.

“Let me make you mine forever,” he growled and you whimpered and nodded as you tugged at his t-shirt.

He helped you pull it off him and you let out a soft groan as your hand explored his broad chest, then down his muscled torso as you followed the trail of hair that led to the vee partially hidden beneath his jeans. Your mouth watered as your hand reached his belt, and you saw the evidence of his desire for you straining against his pants.

He snatched your hand right as you were about to reach his hardened length and you whined in frustration.

“Please, Lo,” you breathed out and he smirked in that cocky way that made you want to either smack him or suck him off.

“No, I’m gonna take my time with you, pretty girl,” he said as he pulled your shirt off, then immediately followed with removing your bra. You whimpered again at the feeling of his skin against yours as he leaned back down and kissed you.

His lips trailed to your breasts and you moaned as he licked and suckled at your sensitive nipples. Your core heated and throbbed as you became slick with desire for him.

You gripped the muscles of his tensed shoulders as you wrapped your legs around his trim waist.

You attempted to grind yourself against his hard cock but he bit down on your neck in reprimand.

“Stop that,” he growled.

You moaned in response and he chuckled darkly. Suddenly he sat up- and you squeaked in surprise at the sudden shift as he stood from the bed. Before you could respond, he yanked you to the edge of the bed and kneeled before you.

“C’mon, be a good girl and I’ll reward you with my cock, I’ll fill you to the brim, give you a baby just like you want. You just have to be a good girl and let me make you come on my tongue, can you do that princess- hm?”

You moaned at his words, nodding vigorously as he slid off your jeans and spread your legs before him.

“Use your words,” he taunted as he rested your legs on his broad shoulders.

His nose ran up, up, up the inside of your thigh until it reached your panties. He groaned deeply as he took in a deep breath- turned near feral at the scent of your arousal.

“Yes, yes, I’ll be good, please- just please, Lo,” you babbled.

Another deep noise from the back of his throat came from the sounds of your sweet begging as he used his teeth to pull your panties off.

You gasped as his warm wet tongue licked up your gushing pussy, all the way from your hole to your throbbing clit.

“You this wet just for me, princess?” He said, the words muffled against your cunt. He began flicking his tongue over the most sensitive part of you and you keened.

Your back arched and you plunged your fingers into his hair, your fingers tangled in and gripped the brown and silver strands.

“Yes, for you, only for you, always for you,” rambled.

The squelching sounds of your cunt as he pressed two fingers inside mixed with your heavy pants and his groans to create the most erotic symphony you’d ever heard.

Your whines reached a fever pitch as his fingers curdled and pressed against the spongy spot inside you that made you forget anything but his name as his tongue continued to flick and swirl around your clit.

“Logan!” you moaned.

“Missed this pretty pussy,” he growled.

Heat filled you as electricity prickled up your spine. You writhed on the bed and pressed your cunt closer to his mouth.

One of his large hands smacked your hip lightly in reprimand. He then laid his arm down across your waist to hold you still.

“Thought you were gonna be a good girl, or do I need to stop,” he teased as he looked up at you and you moaned.

You slick coated his lips and beard, his hair was disheveled from your hands, and his gorgeous eyes were blown with desire.

“No, I’ll be good, promise,” you panted.

He smiled at you, the kind of smile a predator gives their prey before they pounce, and licked you once again.

You were completely at his mercy, pinned to the bed, his fingers inside you and his mouth on your cunt.

You dug your heels into the muscles of his back in an attempt to urge him on.

The tension inside you built and built as his tongue continued its ministrations.

“M’gonna come, Lo,” you whined.

“Good girl, come for me,” he replied then sucked on your clit.

The pleasure was so intense as his thick fingers continued to hit that spot inside you that lightning ran up your spine and you came with a moan of his name.

He continued to lick until you yanked on his hair in an attempt to pull his head away as his arm across your hips kept you pinned to the bed and wiggling away wasn’t an option.

He chuckled darkly as he pressed a final kiss to your bundle of pleasure then looked up at you.

“Did I do good? You gonna reward me with your cock, daddy?” you asked.

There was a heartbeat before he replied, where you worried you went too far as he looked at you in surprise.

But then came his response, “Fuck. Yes, sweetheart, you’re perfect. Daddy’s gonna give you his cock, gonna fill you up real good.”

You whimpered in desire as he stood. You sat up and immediately began to yank at his belt.

He smirked as he looked down on you- watched you in your desperation to reach his thick cock.

Your mouth watered as you won your fight with his belt and zipper and yanked the jeans down enough to get a glimpse of his gloriously hard dick.

Logan finally took pity on you and helped you to remove his pants altogether, which left him wonderfully bare before you.

Good god, he was sexy- his rippling muscles glistened with sweat and you wanted to lick every inch of his skin.

He lifted your face with a hand on your chin so you would meet his eyes once more.

At the heat in his gaze you felt yourself gush even more.

His thumb brushed across your bottom lip and you obediently opened your mouth. He pressed his thumb into your mouth and you moaned softly as you sucked on it.

“Shit, you’re killing me, pretty girl. Lay back, I need to be inside you,” he growled.

You let him pull his thumb out of your mouth and looked up at him through your lashes.

“Can I taste you first?” you asked sweetly.

His eyes rolled back into his head and he gripped your chin tighter.

“Course you can, my good girl gets whatever she wants,” he said then led your face closer to his cock.

You wanted to live in this moment forever, your head fuzzy with ecstasy only he could provide and empty of anything but him as you were eager to please him. You wanted to be his - in every possible way.

You wrapped one hand around the base of his cock and pressed a kiss to the tip as you looked up at him. His breaths stuttered and power rushed to your head. You had this big strong man literally in the palm of your hand as you gave him pleasure that nearly brought him to his knees as your tongue peeked out and you licked the sensitive underside of his tip.

He groaned your name and that prompted you on as you opened your mouth and began to take in some of his length and suckled gently.

You moaned at the salty taste of him in your mouth, and took him in deeper as your hand worked in tandem.

“You look so pretty like this,” he murmured.

You rubbed your thighs together in an desperate but fruitless attempt to generate friction as your clit throbbed again with need. There was nothing as delicious as the grunts and groans Logan made as you took him deeper into your mouth.

His hand slipped from the side of your face to cradle the back of your head and you moaned around his length as he led you to take him deeper into your throat. You took deep breaths through your nose as you swallowed him, taking him in far enough that you no longer needed to use your hand and instead used your hand to gently cup his balls.

“That’s it, doing so good f’me,” Logan groaned.

The musky scent of him filled your nostrils as your nose brushed against the wiry hairs at the base of his cock. His other hand began to flick and pinch at your nipple and you moaned around his length.

His size was substantial, but you were used to it at this point and your head emptied, only Logan present in your mind, as you let him guide your mouth up and down on his cock as you sucked him deeper.

It was everything you wanted and more, until he pulled you off him. A string of saliva connected from your bottom lip to his tip as you gasped for air and looked up at him.

He wiped away the spit as he murmured out, “fuckin’ perfect.”

You whimpered as he surged forward and kissed you, near feral with desire.

“Logan,” you gasped as he manhandled you further back onto the bed and laid himself on top of you.

He continued to kiss you, his lips moved against yours and you surged closer- your chin bumped his as you kissed him urgently. His tongue explored your mouth and electricity filled you. Your body was filled with desperation as you wrapped your legs around his trim waist.

“Need you inside me, please daddy, need your huge cock inside me, need you to fill me up,” you pleaded as he began to kiss and suck on your neck. You knew there would be bruises there tomorrow, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care - it was only more evidence that you belonged to him.

He chuckled darkly and said, “You sound so pretty when you beg, princess. Don’t worry, daddy’s got you.” He reached down and lined his cock up to your desperate hole and you whined in relief.

Slowly, so slowly, Logan pressed himself inside you. Inch by inch he sunk his cock deep inside your cunt and the feeling was unlike any other.

He caged you in with his large arms on either side of your head and you pulled his face down for another desperate kiss.

Once he was seated fully inside you, it was as if all the franticness of the moment dissipated and you both felt the need to savor the moment, to extend it for as long as possible, to live in this experience of perfection for eternity.

There were times that sex with Logan was rough and animalistic, but you both knew that this wouldn’t be one of those times. This was making love - this was a reunion, a reconciliation, a healing of hurts, a fusion of souls.

You looked deep into his eyes and found home.

You locked your ankles around his waist to keep him close, the desire to be as close to him as possible all consuming. His deep breaths pressed his chest against yours and there was nothing in the world but you and him.

One of his hands stroked your arm as you reached up and placed your hand on the side of his face. The other rested against his shoulder as you gripped the muscles you found there.

You caressed his cheek and ran your fingers in his beard.

“I love you,” you whispered.

His eyes became bright with emotion, he had the prettiest eyes you’d ever seen- dark green with rings of brown that held unconditional love for you.

He murmured your name and it sounded like a prayer of devotion as it fell from his plush lips. He pressed a tender kiss to your lips.

He pulled back enough to press his forehead against yours.

“I love you more than anything,” he replied.

You felt perfectly incandescently happy, so wonderfully full of him, and despite both of your desires for this moment to never end, you also needed him to move inside you.

“Please, Lo,” you breathed out.

He knew exactly what you meant and he braced his forearms on either side of your head and pulled his hips back. Logan pulled back enough that only the tip of his cock remained inside you, before he sunk back in slowly.

Your breaths mingled with his and it felt as if the two of you were on an island of your own- as if you were the only two people in the world.

There was a feeling of connectedness, as if the puzzle pieces had all finally fallen into place, as your heartbeat sped and began to beat in time with his.

“You feel so good, so big,” you breathed out as he continued his slow steady pace. Again, and again, and again he pushed himself inside you.

He moaned and kissed you again, this time messy and more urgent.

The string of fate that connected the two of you pulled taunt, became stronger as a result of your union, as you declared to one another your infinite commitment and love.

You clenched down as he increased his pace.

“That’s it, that’s my good girl, so fuckin’ tight,” he said, his lips moved against yours as he imprinted the praise into your mouth.

There was a delicious feeling of fullness as you felt stretched and stuffed to the brim with his cock, as your heart threatened to burst at the care he showed you. Your hands ran across his arms and shoulders, around and down to his back where your nails dug into the sweat slicked muscles you found there.

He grunted and again increased his pace. Your thighs tightened around his waist and you held onto him more securely as he pistoned his cock inside you.

There was no better feeling than when he was inside you. His cock repeatedly hit that spot deep within that made you see stars and you felt that familiar burning inside you begin to grow.

There was no possible way to be closer to him. His face was buried in your throat, his chest pressed against yours and every thrust brushed your sensitive nipples against the hair there, your puffy clit felt shockwaves of every thrust as his groin grinded against it, the slick of your arousal coated you both- there was no possible way to be closer to him, and yet somehow you needed more.

“Daddy, please,” you gasped.

“Mhm, is this what my pretty girl needs?”

He shoved a hand between your bodies and began to press tight circles against your throbbing clit.

“Yes!” You let out a high pitched whine as you threw your head back let out a low groan as you clenched down on his thick cock.

The squelching sounds of your joining bodies should’ve made you embarrassed, but white hot pleasure eroded all your senses.

“C’mon pretty baby, come for daddy and then I’ll fill you up, I’ll make you full of me, make sure everyone knows you’re mine with my ring on your finger and my baby in your stomach. S’that what you want? Huh? You want everyone to know you’re mine?” he growled in your ear.

“God, y-yes, Logan- fuck,” you stuttered out.

He continued to fuck into you with those long harsh thrusts, the pace quick and intense as his finger drew tight circles on your overstimulated clit. It balanced you on the line of pleasure and pain, but his words pushed you over the edge.

You gasped loudly, “M’gonna come!”

He grabbed your face and said, “Look at me.”

White hot pleasure exploded through you. Your eyes fluttered open and you stared deep into his intense gaze as you came on his cock.

He groaned along with you as you clenched down on him.

“Shit, that’s my good girl,” he said and kissed you sloppily.

You keened at the praise, your head fuzzy with ecstacy. Your nails again dug into his back as he continued to pump himself inside you as he chased his own release.

His breaths came harder as his sweat slicked skin slid against yours. His hand gripped your hip hard enough to bruise as his pace somehow increased.

There was nothing you could do but take it. This-this was bliss, this was perfection.

“Want you to fill me up, want you to come in me, please Lo,” you whined.

He groaned and with one more deep thrust he pushed himself as far inside you as possible and came. He filled you up, with stuttered breaths and hips, he came until he had nothing else to give.

You pulled your head back from his neck, where you had bit down- hard, and pressed a kiss to his lips.

You could’ve sworn that the thread of fate, the connection between the two of you glowed in the aftermath.

With a grunt, he flipped over onto his back as he held you tight, and kept you against him and pulled you on top of him as he kept his cock inside you.

You rested your head against his chest.

“Can we just stay like this for a while?” you asked.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head as his large hand ran up and down your back.

“Of course, princess. Anything you want.”

And so you did. After all, time was a minuscule thing when the entirety of a new future together stretched before you.

#logan howlett #wolverine #logan #logan howlett smut #wolverine smut #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x y/n #wolverine x you #wolverine x y/n

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slyandthefamilybook · 8 months ago

Text

okay because I'm seeing some misinfo, here's the story on the Key Bridge collapse

What was the Key Bridge?

The Francis Scott Key Bridge (also called the Key Bridge, the Beltway Bridge, and the Outer Harbor Crossing) was steel-arch continuous-through-truss bridge spanning the Patapsco River south of the Baltimore Harbor. The bridge took 5 years to build and cost an estimated $145 million ($735 million in today's dollars). The full bridge project (including approaches) was 10.9 miles long, but the stretch over the Patapsco was 1.6 miles long and 4 lanes wide, and comprised a length of I-695, the Baltimore Beltway. It traveled between Hawkins Point and Dundalk, and in addition to the I-895 Harbor Tunnel was the primary way for Marylanders to cross from the Eastern Shore to the West. The bridge carried an estimated 11.5 million vehicles per year. There is a lane for ships to pass under the Key Bridge with enough clearance.

Was it structurally sound?

The bridge received its latest inspection in 2022 and received a 6/9 score, which is considered "fair" by federal standards. There was a concern with one of its columns, which was downgraded from a health index of 77.8 to 65.9, but it is not clear yet if this was one of the columns struck by the ship. In 1980 the bridge was struck by a different cargo ship which destroyed a concrete support structure, but the bridge itself was unharmed. There is as of yet no evidence that the bridge collapsed because of poor condition. Experts say the lesson to be learned is about the size and weight of modern cargo ships, and that the bridge was not to blame. Engineers have noted, however, that the bridge's piers lacked protective devices such as fenders.

What was the ship?

The MV Dali is a container ship flying the Singapore flag. It is owned by Grace Ocean Private Ltd. and operated by Synergy Marine Group Ltd. The ship is currently being chartered by Maersk, a Dutch shipping company. It was built in 2015 by Hyundai. The ship is 980 feet long and 157 feet wide. The ship's gross tonnage (its internal volume) is 95,128 tons (190,256,000 pounds). Its deadweight (the weight of cargo it can carry) is 116,851 tons (233,702,000 pounds). The ship was carrying 3,000 containers. The engine is a MAN-B&W 9S90ME putting out 41,480 kilowatts (55,626 horsepower).

Over its lifetime the Dali has been inspected 27 times, and only 2 faults were ever found. On June 27, 2023 the Dali was held in port in Chile due to an issue with the propulsion system. According to an inspector the pressure gauges on the heating system were "unreadable". The fault was fixed before the ship left port.

The Dali is crewed by 22 Indian nationals including 2 maritime pilots.

What happened?

The Dali arrived at the Port of Baltimore on March 23, 2024. At 12:44 AM on March 26, 2024 the Dali left port, beginning its journey to Colombo, Sri Lanka. At 01:26 AM the ship suffered a "complete blackout" and began to drift out of the shipping lane. It is not yet known what caused the electrical failure. The backup generator did not power the propulsion system. At around 01:26 AM the crew of the Dali sent a mayday distress call to the Maryland Department of Transportation (MDOT) informing them of the loss of power and that a collision with the Key Bridge was possible. The anchors were dropped as an emergency measure to attempt to slow or stop the vessel. At the request of one of the pilots traffic flow over the bridge was immediately halted. Black smoke was seen coming from the Dali, which experts believe was the result of the crew managing to restart the power system to regain some maneuvering capability.

At 01:28 AM the Dali, traveling at 8 knots (considered to be a fast speed) collided with a support strut beneath the Key Bridge's metal truss at the southwest end of the bridge. A Baltimore resident said he heard the collision and that it "felt like an earthquake". Emergency teams began receiving 911 calls at 01:30 AM, and the Baltimore Police Department were alerted at 01:35 AM. One of the officers present radioed that he was going to go onto the bridge to alert the construction crew as soon as a second officer arrived, but the bridge collapsed seconds later.

What was the damage?

The Key Bridge has completely collapsed. The metal truss relies on structural tension from the bridge itself to maintain its rigidity. As soon as one of the support columns was destroyed, the rest of the bridge quickly followed.

The damage to the Dali is reported as minimal. The ship was impaled by the bridge's structure above the waterline, but has maintained watertight integrity. The crew has not reported any water contamination from its 1.8 million gallons of marine fuel. 13 containers carrying potentially hazardous material were damaged, and are being inspected by a team of Coast Guard divers. At least 5 vehicles including 3 passenger cars and a cement mixer were detected underwater, but authorities do not believe they were occupied

Who was hurt?

The crew of the Dali reports no casualties, except one crewmember who was hospitalized for minor injuries. There was a crew of 8 construction workers on the Key Bridge filling in potholes. 2 were immediately pulled from the water by rescue crews, with 1 being rushed to emergency care and the other reporting minor injuries and refusing treatment. The hospitalized worker has since been discharged. 1 of those rescued was Mexican. The remaining 6 remain missing. Of those 6, 2 have been identified:

Miguel Luna from El Salvador

Maynor Yassir Suazo Sandoval from Honduras

Of the remaining 4, 2 are Guatemalan nationals. Neither have been identified, but the Guatemalan Foreign Affairs Ministry has stated that they were a 26-year-old from San Luis, Petén, and a 35-year-old from Camotán, Chiquimula. The other 2 are presumed to be Mexican.

Rescue Efforts

The Coast Guard was immediately deployed for search-and-rescue operations. Military Blackhawk helicopters were seen over the river. Rescue efforts were ended at 07:30 PM on March 26, 2024 due to darkness, fog, and cold temperatures. Rear Admiral Shannon Gilreath said "Based on the length of time that we've gone in the search, the extensive search efforts that we put into it, the water temperature -- at this point, we do not believe that we're going to find any of these individuals still alive". Recovery operations resumed at 07:30 AM on March 27, 2024 with all 6 workers presumed dead.

No divers have yet entered the water underneath the bridge. Supervisory Special Agent Brian Hudson of the FBI's Underwater Search and Evidence Response Team said "the debris field is pretty sizable and I know that’s why they’re hesitant to send divers down because some of the debris is still shifting, the heavy weight of the rocks". The FBI has deployed Remotely Operated Vehicles (ROVs) equipped with cameras and SONAR.

Aftermath

At 05:08 AM on March 26, 2024 Transportation Secretary Pete Buttegiege posted on X (formerly Twitter):

"I’ve spoken with Gov. Moore and Mayor Scott to offer USDOT’s support following the vessel strike and collapse of the Francis Scott Key bridge. Rescue efforts remain underway and drivers in the Baltimore area should follow local responder guidance on detours and response."

At 07:30 AM on March 27, 2024 President of the Maryland State Senate Bill Ferguson posted on X (formerly Twitter):

"Over 15,000 in the Balt region rely on daily operations at Port of Baltimore to put food on the table. Today, with Del. @LukeClippinger and colleagues representing Port, we are drafting an emergency bill to provide for income replacement for workers impacted by this travesty."

At around 09:40 AM on March 26, 2024 Maryland Governor Wes Moore and Baltimore Mayor Brandon Scott declared a State of Emergency to take effect at 10:30 AM March 26, 2024, and to last 30 days. Baltimore's Emergency Operations Plan was put into effect.

More than 1,000 personnel from the US Army Corps of Engineers (USACE) have been deployed to assist with clearing the debris and rebuilding efforts. President Joe Biden has pledged that the federal government will pay for the entire reconstruction of the bridge.

Jennifer Homendy, the chair of the National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) has recovered the Dali's data recorder, and will be inspecting both the Key Bridge and the Dali to determine the cause of the crash and the collapse. She says the investigation could take up to 2 years to complete.

Was it intentional?

According to William DelBagno, head of the FBI's Baltimore field office: "There is no specific or credible information to suggest there are ties to terrorism in this incident".

Secretary of Homeland Security Alejandro Mayorkas said: "There are no indications this was an intentional act".

At least 3 people have been killed in accidents related to ships operated by Synergy in the past 6 years. In 2018 a person on board a Synergy ship in Australia was killed in an accident relating to the vessel's personnel elevator. In 2019 an officer aboard a Synergy vessel in Singapore fell overboard while performing maintenance. In 2023 at least one sailor was killed when a Synergy ship collided with a dredging ship in the Philippines. In the first two cases safety inspectors noted that proper safety procedures had not been adhered to.

Sources

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

#atlas entry #this is still a developing story but all the information herein is accurate and current at time of publishing #baltimore #baltimore bridge collapse #francis scott key bridge #key bridge #I spent an hour collating all this info please give it a reblog

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kneelingshadowsalome · 1 year ago

Note

Hi !!!! I’m sorry if this is bothering you and if so you can totally ignore this but…

I’ve been thinking about how Ghost would react to reader gradually pulling away from him because she gained some weight and is self conscious and ashamed and doesn’t want to be seen by him, so sculpted and beautiful… but of course he’s feeling low because he wants to be close to reader and so he asks and she finally explains it to him (ready to be broken up with…)…. And I’d love to read your take on it !

You can make it female or gender neauteal I don’t really care !!!! Thank you anyway ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Wildflowers Grow in Ruins

(Ghost x F!Reader, word count: 5 k)

Summary: Reader tries to break up with Ghost because she thinks she's not good enough for him.

Tags/warnings: FLUFF, soft sensual smut 🔞, hurt/comfort, light angst, Jealous!Ghost, Soft!Ghost, self-loathing & self-body shaming. Good girl talk/praise kink. Reader is female and wears a skirt for smut plot purposes.

A/N: I hope you like this take & I hope you don't mind that I tweaked this request just a little bit!) Also: JFC I'm wordy. The "I need to explain why they're fucking!" meme comes to mind every time I write anything.

Wars are exhausting.

You know fighting for something can empower people. Fighting against something usually just depletes your strength.

But waging a war against yourself…

Now that is pure hell.

It started somewhere in your youth. You thought adulthood would take it away; that reason and tolerance would take it away. You were supposed to feel more confident in yourself, more positive about life. And for a moment, you thought you might just succeed.

But standing beside a god of war is no easy feat.

He came into your life like a walking myth, swept you away, and you only laughed as you went. It was fun at first. He was supposed to be your savior, the solution to all your problems. If a man like him found you attractive, perhaps it was the world that was crooked and not you.

But then you got soft: you started to gain pounds. Meanwhile, he became even more magnificent. It reminded you that it had all been just a dream.

Perhaps it was his eyes that seemed to worship you, that seemed to look past your every flaw. Perhaps it was the hands which never seemed to get enough of your skin. Whatever it was, it was too much. And at the same time, never enough.

The day has finally come to let him go.

You think yourself heroic. It's like it should be: it's only right that you finally release him to someone better than you.

But inside, the noble feelings twist and turn and curl around your throat and stuff your stomach full of ice - the kind they fill glasses of mojito with. The drink you'll always remember him by because he teased you about it: that you wanted an ice-cold summer drink even in the middle of winter.

Now you feel cold all over, and wish he could warm you like he used to.

You would forsake all the mojitos of the world to keep him. You would renounce the whole drink if it came to that; if you could make him yours.

But he's not yours. He never was: he was just on loan to give you a taste of what it would be like to have a man like him. That taste should be more than enough for a lifetime. You should feel grateful.

So why is it so hard to let go?

The key on the front door turns, and your heart shoots up your throat: you're supposed to settle this thing once and for all. You're supposed to let go of him today.

And still, when he arrives, you can't find the courage to say what you need to say. The words are stuck in your throat, but tears are not. He should already be a memory, but you find yourself suffocating on memories as you cry. You've learned to do even that in silence, like the rest of your suffering.

You take a few deep breaths, wipe the tears away, shove the rest of them down your throat – you save them for later, later, when he's far away and you can finally curl up and cry your heart out without no one there to look. Fucking later.

Good.

Great.

You put your heaviest armor on. It protects weak and soft flesh because you can't meet him all bare. Then you step forward with the knowledge that you’re a thoroughly wounded guerrilla while he is a seasoned, well-rested veteran. The fight is nowhere near even, but it's ok. You are not meant to be in the presence of immortals anyway.

The man looks at you warily as you finally enter the room. That haunted look has followed you for some time now as the distance between you has grown.

It should be easy, what is about to come, because he hasn't touched you in weeks. You haven't wanted him to.

Or you have… But it's not easy to have his hands on you when your body is only a vessel you hate. How can you even think about pleasure when all you think about is how it must feel for him to caress something as awful as this?

The man is a vision, and he settles for a peasant. It should be against the law, but it's not… so you figured a some time ago that you should simply find the strength and grace to do ii: do what's right.

"I need to talk to you."

Your voice comes out neutral, and it makes you more confident, if only for a second or two.

He lifts his chin: already knows what's coming, because he's not stupid. You've been shutting down for weeks, and he hasn't done much about it. But when the thunder rolls in, he doesn't flee. Probably because he fears nothing.

"Go ahead then," he says, equally as neutral, equally as icy. Got his armor on, too.

This should be easy…

It's really not, so you decide to rip the band-aid off in one yank.

"I think we should go separate ways."

The following inhale from across the room pierces the air like a bullet. You can hear his breaths gain depth and speed all the way to where you're standing.

"Ok."

It doesn't look or sound like he's ok. If anything, he looks like he's trying to process the sudden storm.

"Ok…" His eyes are on the floor as he rubs the back of his neck. Then he starts to pace around the little kitchenette you've shared for almost six months, just before you started gaining weight.

He stops to look out the window, then turns to you, and the hurt in his stare comes through like a thousand needles pushing through skin.

"Is it because of my work?"

"No."

"What is it then?"

Your breaths are getting out of hand, too. He looks like a lost, tired creature in an abandoned animal shelter for a moment, and it breaks your heart. It squeezes the organ inside a flaming fist until it shatters like it has never been nothing more than ice.

Your lip starts to tremble, and he notices, as per usual. Nothing escapes this man, except perhaps the true reason for your anguish.

"Hey. Hey."

He comes to you and hugs you like it's the only thing that matters: to comfort you when he sees you're about to cry, no matter how crushed he's feeling himself. The sudden warmth, the intimacy after weeks and weeks of pain is knee-buckling.

"Is there anything I can do to change your mind?"

His voice is soft, so soft… The tears rush forth now; there's no way of stopping them. What the hell can you even say to a question like that? That you wish he could grab a magic wand and turn you into someone gorgeous, the woman he deserves?

His embrace feels good, kind of. It also feels smothering because your self-hate makes you want to disappear from existence entirely. His eyes are equal to physical touch, a probing scan that sees every little flaw, not to talk about massive faults, the ones which make you feel like you're simply disgusting. His touch only reminds you how you must feel like to him: soft, too soft, weak.

And he must hate weakness.

"What do you need me to do? I'll do anything," he tries with a parched throat, then swallows.

It's fucking horrible. This isn't going at all like you had imagined.

"It's not about you," you struggle out of his hold, and he lets you go with reluctance. You have to basically fight your way out of a bone and steel prison. Why would he even want to hold a pathetic woman who's on the brink of ugly crying on top of everything?

"What do you mean?"

He's slightly breathless – and restless as fuck. He's usually so calm; nothing can get to him, nothing can rattle the tower of raw strength. Now you've not only pierced some invisible armor; you can hear pieces of it falling on the floor.

"Have you found someone else?"

What the…

"No." You put as much weight on that word as you possibly can. To imagine that he thinks you are cheating… Fucking cheating on someone like him. "Jesus Christ…"

He takes a deep breath and sighs deeply, sighs out relief, perhaps. Then his razor-sharp stare fixes on you again, and you can see the fear turning into something akin to concern. You suspect you have to tell him the truth, otherwise he will dig it out of you.

"I'm just…"

Jesus, this is just humiliating.

"I'm just not your type."

"What the hell are you talking about," he mutters, the impending fury giving way to momentary surprise.

He gets intense sometimes. This time, the ferocity is born of barely concealed distress. He's broad and magnificent, even in despair. He’s just so fucking fine… The perfect man, someone you had never even imagined yourself with. Pulled down to the world of puny mortals, evidently stressing about losing one.

Losing you.

"If you have someone new, you can just bloody well tell me."

"It's not that. You don't understand–"

"Try me."

"I just…" A tear escapes down your face as you finally break for him. "I'm fat. Okay? And ugly. And–"

"Stop right there."

The look on his face is just… It's priceless, you suppose.

"Bloody fucking hell…"

He looks at the floor, then runs his fingers through the short cut hair on top of his head. You've yanked those blonde strands more times than you can count, nearly every time he's been between your legs, and you miss it – you long for it, like fallen angels long for heaven.

And if there was a time this man was rendered speechless, you would say you were witnessing that moment right now. His brows knit together, then he looks up at you again with blaring disbelief.

"You're serious?"

"Yes."

"This is the reason you wanna break up?"

Ugh.

"Yes?"

His voice grows rougher with every question until it resembles thunder, and you suspect this is the commanding tone his soldiers are used to hearing.

But you're not: it's gravelly, harsh, and betrays the feeling of having been insulted. You feel even more devastated with yourself – it appears you can do nothing right.

"Where has this… idea even come to your head?"

"I don't know."

"And you never thought to ask my opinion?"

"Would you please stop yelling," you whisper and blink back some putrid tears. His mouth is snapped shut, his head pulls back just a little as he realizes what he's done.

"Sorry," he says with a half-whisper, and you catch the strain in his throat. You've never seen him cry, but now his voice is suddenly thin and frail. "I'm sorry."

He takes a step, then another, places fingertips on the counter as if to take the faintest support.

"Can I touch you?"

You don't really want him to do that, but you feel pity for the man. He's trying to find a way through this mess, and you want to help him.

"Yes," you whisper, and he immediately comes and takes you in his arms again. Hot tears disappear into his shirt, and you sniff a few times. He feels so good, so safe, even when you're about to lose him. His hold tightens around you, and the kitchen is silent; the whole world is silent. You don't know if you're being put to a grave or if you're in a deaf womb, waiting to be reborn.

"Now I don't know who's said this shite to you but ugly is the last fucking thing I'd call you," he declares above you. As if it was some bully whose fault it is that you were this way, a bully he could deal with with his fists or a gun. If only things were that easy…

"Have I said or done something? To make you feel this way?"

Then the blade is turned against himself. The man desperately searches for a culprit so he can deal with them.

"No," is the only thing you can say because it's true: he has never done a thing to make you feel like you weren't good enough; quite the contrary. But then again, he doesn't have to. It's enough that he exists and resembles a god.

"Then why do you think you're not my type?"

"Because you're so perfect," you hear yourself wail, no, cry into that shirt that smells of sweet safety and familiar musk – his scent, another thing you have missed like it's the only way to heaven.

"That for sure ain't true."

"But it is."

He seems to have the utmost difficulty in grasping what the issue here is. You can almost hear the wheels turning in his head with a rusty, laborious creak.

"Can't believe you wanna break up because of this," he finally says. You've chipped his pride, the ego that lives off of pleasing the ones he loves: the few chosen ones who he wants to give his whole life to.

"To me, you're perfect," he then says, and you simply… You stop breathing. "You're like… my dream woman. Ever thought about that?"

It can't be true, even if you vehemently, desperately want it to be. You reach out to his words like they're precious food after years of famine. Like they're sun and spring rain after being buried in the cold, dark soil whole winter.

"No…?"

"Never occurred to you that I might find you fucking beautiful?"

"Stop," you whisper, because it's too much to take in. He sounds so serious, so sincere.

"No, I don't think I will."

He pulls back a little and cups your face. Brushes away a tear, looks at you with so much love that it physically hurts; you feel like it's a lance that slowly drives through your heart.

"How about I kiss every part I love about you?"

You let out a soft little whimper. Fuck, that you want him to…

It would also be uncomfortable as hell. To try and let him love you and your body, which you have grown to loathe.

"It's gonna take all night, though. Wanna be as thorough as possible."

"Simon–"

"Love. I want you. Thought I'd made it pretty clear, but apparently I haven't. If you only knew how much–"

He sighs deeply. The man is frustrated with his shortcomings, thinks that this is all his fault. You cry a tear or two just for the sake of how absurd it all is.

"I don't want you to go. I fucking love you. Everything about you."

For the second time this afternoon, your lower lip starts to tremble as if this was some stupid, romantic movie. He can be so soft when he wants to, more romantic than the soft-spoken gentlemen in Jane Austen's novels. It doesn't even require any effort: underneath the cynical surface, there's fiery emotion, so powerful and raw that it almost bleeds out of him. Fuck… Does he even know what he's doing to you?

"I love you too," you whisper back, and the warmth that starts to bloom in his eyes is an entire sun on its own. It's hope, and you believe him, almost believe him.

"Then I'd say it's a bloody bad idea to break up."

You chuckle while few more tears push through to the surface.

"Simon…" You sigh and look back up at him, your armor falling to the floor too. "I feel like a wreck."

You allow him to see the pain, all of it. His breath is sharp as it hits him, but he still doesn't waver.

"Then let me help you."

The arms around you gain more strength, and you're crushed against a chest made of power. He tries to turn shit to gold, and threatens to succeed. You allow yourself to soften in his hold. How good it feels to be supported – no, loved.

"You don't even let me touch you anymore."

It's a filed complaint, but also heart-rending, soul-wrenching longing. You have evaded him for weeks now – hell, this shit began months ago and has escalated gradually, stealthily, until the moments together were a rarity, the space between you was full of frost; and not the crispy, happy summer drink kind.

"I thought you'd found someone else. Could've found out if that was the case in minutes, but honestly, I didn't wanna know."

Oh my God…

Has he lived with a growing suspicion and dread all these months?

That would explain why he has avoided you too…

He has allowed you to go to your supposed lover, has given you space to be alone and without too much attention. The man has shielded himself from pain.

Jesus fucking Christ.

"I'm so sorry," you say with a strained little breath. "I swear it's nothing like that. I just… I feel like a mess."

"Never seen such a gorgeous mess."

He speaks on your skin, the kiss on your forehead feels like an absolution.

Then you notice it's not only his words which try to assure you. He's growing harder by the minute against your stomach, just from a simple hug. Just from being pressed against you like this, after weeks of dry, bitter longing.

"Miss your taste," he murmurs to your skin, his voice like sand wrapped in burning velvet. "The sounds you make when you want it hard."

Oh God–

"Miss your smile when we go to shower after."

"Hmh…"

"Don't wanna live without that smile."

You don't have to.

God, you don't have to…

"How about we make a deal," he draws fingers down your chin, coaxing you to look up at him. His eyes are stripped from the cold distance that greeted you just moments ago: now they are filled with warmth that spreads to your chest and belly and bones. You drink him in like summertide.

"You come to me every time you feel bad and I'll make you feel good. Alright?"

"...Ok."

He tilts his head a little to the side, not entirely satisfied with your shy little answer.

"Come on. Make me believe it."

"It's a deal," you say with more grit to it, even if you're nearly crying again, this time from relief.

"That's my girl."

Oh fuck…

He knows exactly what strings to pull, the good girl talk being one of the things that instantly makes your legs feel like jelly.

And why does he always have to use that voice when he calls you a good girl or his girl, that sultry smoke that makes you want to swoon until he catches you and carries you to bed?

The man seems to be a mind reader as well, because he sweeps you off your feet and does exactly that: carries you to your bed which has mainly seen silent tears and painful sleep last months.

"Poor thing doesn't even know how lovely she is."

He sounds amused in the face of your darkness: sees it in full and still doesn't fear at all. He's ready to battle your demons for you, and you feel like shaking: from his touch and that voice, from the stress and loneliness that starts to release as he lays you down on the bed.

He looks so different from the man that has haunted this place for the past months, the complete opposite of the reserved soldier retreating into the shadows.

He moves to kiss you, and it's been – what? Weeks since your last kiss? And even that was only a quick peck, nothing like this… Wet, and desperate; a devouring. It makes you clench around nothingness, and you finally surrender.

No one can fake such fervor.

You try to accept it: accept the fact that even if you hate yourself, he does not. For some reason, he adores you. His breaths hit your face hot and urgent, and he can't keep his hands to himself anymore. They wander over your waist and hips, they even risk to steal a feel of your breasts, and then he groans in your mouth.

"I've missed you. Fuck, I've missed you..."

You taste notes of burning leaves; tobacco, his only weakness. You fantasize on the thought that you might be another weakness, too.

"Remember when I fucked you in my office?"

"I've missed you too," you utter softly in between the kisses that threaten to turn into a sloppy mess. "So much..."

He smiles at that, and it makes you weak, even when lying down like this.

"Yeah…?"

"You were so loud I had to put a hand over your mouth."

His voice is thick as he laughs a short chuckle. Your inner walls clench again at the sound, you throb among the warm syrup surrounding you.

"Never seen you so wet. Almost dripped all over my gear."

"It's that stupid mask you wear," you hear yourself breathe like you've just been underwater. Feel yourself throb some more, feel a burning sensation in the nether areas from the scorched desert turning wet again. You want him so much that it actually hurts down there.

"Knew you'd like it. That's why I kept it on."

If this man keeps talking, your underwear is going to be utterly ruined. And of course he does; of course he continues to pour more love in your ear.

"Everyone looked at you like you were a queen," he grunts in your ear, sounding almost… pissed.

"Don't be ridiculous," you try to form sensible words. It's only a faint breath, really, but he huffs at your modesty.

"You don't have eyes in the back of your head, love."

Wow… He is a bit pissed.

Had they checked your ass out when you visited him?

It was the first and, what you thought, the last time you got to visit him at his workplace… but you never would have guessed the reason for him not asking you to visit again would be jealousy.

"Don't worry. I put those fuckers in their place after you left."

Whoa.

Ok…

First, he had fucked you senseless in his office – a highly inappropriate move for a man in his position – then got jealous because some soldiers had checked you out as you left with his cum practically dripping from your cunt.

You put yourself in his shoes for a moment: he's had to live with thoughts of you running to some other man's arms when he's not home, and then watch you waltz around his workplace after making what was supposed to be the last effort to make him love you… When he has loved and adored you this whole time, has watched the sway of your ass with the rest of those home-deprived, horny soldiers, thinking you had fallen out of love and were on your way to go see some other guy.

Had he invited you there to try and win you back, too? By showing himself to you in all his puffed up, masculine glory? A desperate man in a skull mask, hoping to get love from you…

There's so many misunderstandings; they rip your throat. A sob escapes, and he stops his caress.

"Love… Tell me to stop if you–"

"No. No, I don't want you to stop."

Your request comes out with such demand that he hesitates only a second or two. Then he moves on top of you and tugs your skirt up. You don't even have time to realize what is happening before he has worked himself out of his pants.

He's hard and heavy between your legs, and your eyes go wide as you realize he's not going to bother to take your briefs off. He just slides a hand under the skirt and draws the fabric aside, and the fat tip of him is pushed in the middle almost clumsily. It's hot, and slips down to your opening with ease.

Oh f–

"Been jerking off to you nearly every night at the base," he says just before he pushes himself in.

"Uh–...."

Your thighs spread wide as he fills you slowly, inch after inch. The sound that leaves him is starved: a dry, painful sigh. He's been waiting for this for god knows how long, and you're just as hungry to take him in. He seems endless, the way he finally works himself fully inside, spreading you even wider as the thickening base of his cock reaches its end.

"Thought you were getting railed by someone else while I only get to fuck my hand."

"Oh god…"

There's really nothing else to say as his balls press against you, heavy and taut. He's not going to last long.

"Yeah. Imagine that," he admits, breathless like you.

You look at him with what must be the most helpless stare of longing in your eyes. Then he moves, and you want to grip him to keep him inside. The first thrusts are divine, they're pure heaven, and your head sinks deep into the pillow as you try to get enough air, try to not scream from pleasure already. Somehow, all you are able to utter is a desperate little whisper.

"Simon–"

His cock is good enough to bring tears to your eyes. You're starving too, you're pulling him in with fierce hunger, and he groans, then nearly falls forward, his weight pressing against you, swallowing you, until you feel like you're an idiot for thinking that you're too big. The thickness of his chest rubs against you as he makes love to you with passion that echoes the first times you did this.

"Just wanna adore you, love." He's panting desperate somewhere above you. A god and a man, both furious and gentle. "I wanna adore you. Just like this."

You answer him with what must be those sounds he told you about, the sounds you make when you want it hard.

You want him to fuck you, to wreck you after weeks of loneliness and hate. To love you until you break into a million pieces.

"Simon," you whisper. "...Love me."

He halts, huffs in your neck. It's almost a sob. There's so much emotion and desperation in the air that it could be scooped up and sold in the streets.

"Always," he rasps in your ear, then moves to kiss you again. "Always."

The promise echoes around you, it coats your lips as he loves you with all he has. It's been so long, and he feels so good that you nails dig into his shirt, his shoulder, you try to hold onto him even though he's the wave that rocks you.

"You feel that?" He goes deep; he's out of breath and desperate, even more desperate than you. "That's love. You feel it, yeah?"

"Yes," you sob in his shoulder, tears trying to escape your waterline as you're going dumb from the pure sensation, the sensuality of it all.

"That's it, love. That's a good girl," he turns to your neck and gruffs in your ear as you whimper and moan. "Always such a good girl."

Shit…

"I, I'm gonna…"

Your legs wrap around his middle, your muscles twitch and your hands reach and grab – they claw and yank and tug everything they can: his back, shoulders, shirt, something sturdy to keep you from drowning in a glorious orgasm.

He laughs in your neck and continues to grind you through your climax even when you're shattering, sighing, moaning, writhing under him. He just laughs, the man who never laughs: from witnessing you respond to him calling you a good girl.

Fucking bastard…

Lovable, infuriating bastard who knows you to your core.

You're an overstimulated heap by the time he comes as well, not long after you, but long enough to make you feel like you're only a tender bunch of nerves. Your legs have fallen to the side, he has open access to take what he needs: you, your love, all of it.

His whole middle goes tense as he cums, he groans and swears somewhere deep into your neck, rolls his hips over and over again like it's a must that his balls press against you with every thrust that shoot his load.

Then he falls slack, nearly collapses on top of you, reminding you of what it feels like to be small under a giant like him. You're throbbing together, you're full and fulfilled, and he is still lodged deep inside you, panting and broken in a sweat.

"Jesus Christ…"

He sounds dazed.

Relieved.

"Should've done this weeks ago."

You laugh at seeing him so done – a man in love, torn by jealous yearning, finally taking what's his. You stroke his neck, his back – it's so good to have him finally there… So close, with no barriers in between.

"I should've talked to you weeks ago..."

"Yeah. You should have."

"Are you going to punish me?" You giggle a little – the flirt is light and frees your heart further from its recent jail. He moves to look at you with all the tenderness there is. It's too much... His love is too much. But you won't run from it anymore.

"Nah. Think I'm gonna spoil you some more."

He spoils you right away with a kiss. You surrender to his treatment with happiness: happy tears, even.

The medicine to your anguish has been the exact opposite to what you had first tried, what you had originally thought. The true remedy for your sickness is mercy. Perhaps some spoiling…

And love.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley smut #simon riley fluff #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost fluff #soft simon riley #simon riley imagine #ghost x you #simon riley x you #fluff and smut #call of duty

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