#kid blink oneshot

[anaislovesboobies]

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This my first post ever on here💙

~ I’ve never really written anything on any other platform besides Wattpad and Ao3 so I decided to write on here too~

~ I will take request once I start posting, so feel free to request :) ~

~Any fluff, hybrids, pairings, kinks, fantasies, and etc is acceptable just please don’t request anything sexually related to idols who are minors or anything to with grape w/o the g, please and thank you ~

~Idol x reader, idol x Idol, is okay, all genders are okay! All sexualities are okay! (Idk all of them but I’ll try to be neutral).~

~I usually only write bgs but ggs are allowed as well… ~

~Groups I’m used to: Skz, TXT, Enha, BTS, Ateez, NCT/WayV, Blackpink, Everglow.~

~Groups/ idols I’m open to doing: Lsrfm, Itzy(?) Exo’s Kai, (G)-Idle, Kep1er, Twice(?) and probably whoever else gets requested.~

~I wont give out too much info about myself but my pronouns are She/Her/They and my name is Anais :) or you can just call me Lay.~

~I’m fluent in English but my first language was Korean so please excuse if sometimes my writing is all wonky and stuff~

Hopefully I can meet some nice friends and anons on here :)

Anyways, enjoy my page !!

���💙💙

[dreamwritesimagines]

Sunshine

AN: Hi my loves! So, this is the first installment of a oneshot series and I hope you’ll like it! Please don’t forget to tell me what you think!

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Summary: The first ray of sunlight holds many promises.

Word Count: 2844

You were no stranger to the feeling of inadequacy.

For you it was around every corner; impossible to get away from at least for the last couple of years. Even now, in the clothes you had borrowed from your best friend in an attempt to look more formal and serious, you couldn’t help but feel way out of your element.

Yet in your humble opinion, the very intimidating mansion you were currently gawking at didn’t make this any easier.

Your heart was slamming against your chest as you tried to keep your breathing under control, your tongue shooting up to wet your dry lips, then you looked down when you felt a tug on your sleeve. Theo stared up at you with wide eyes, making your heart clench but you managed to give him a bright smile despite the fear clouding your mind, and crouched down to get to his eye level.

“Hey bean,” you said, pushing his round glasses up the bridge of his nose. “What’s going on?”

“What if they don’t like me?”

You gasped and pressed a hand over your chest, feigning shock.

“Are you kidding?” you asked. “They will absolutely adore you. I myself am more worried that they will love you too much.”

He blinked a couple of times in confusion. “Too much?”

You nodded fervently.

“Yeah!” you said. “And then I’ll have to fight everyone in there to get you to myself every weekend.”

That managed to make him giggle and you pretended to be offended, narrowing your eyes.

“You don’t think I could take them down?”

“Can you?”

“Why yes I can,” you said, sticking your nose in the air. “I just don’t like to brag about it because that’ll scare people off, you know?”

He smiled wide and you pinched his cheek, then turned your head when a pretty girl with gloves on her hands cleared her throat.

“Hi, I’m Rogue,” she introduced herself. “New enrollment?”

 “Yeah,” you said after a beat. “Yeah, hi.”

“Professor is expecting you, please follow me,” she said and you stood up, then took Theo’s hand and followed her into the building.

The interior of the mansion was as gorgeous and intimidating as it was on the outside. Theo looked like he was nearly hypnotized -which made sense, your apartment had to be the size of a simple storage room in this place- and he stared at the ceiling with his mouth hanging open, his eyes darting around.

“I feel like you should know that because of the new policy Professor will need his parents’ signature in order to enroll him,” Rogue said, making you snap out of your haze before you cleared your throat.

“Um, I’m the parent.”

That made her pause only for a moment and she pulled her brows together, looking between you and Theo.

“Oh, sorry about that!” she said. “I just assumed…”

“No no I get that a lot, please don’t worry about it,” you assured her quickly, waving a hand in the air. “I had Theo the first year of college and—”

Never got to finish that year or the rest.

“As I said, I get that a lot.”

She gave you an apologetic smile, then stopped in front of a door.

“Wait a moment please,” she said, knocking on the door before stepping inside and Theo tugged at your sleeve.

“It’s so pretty here!” he whispered and you tried to swallow the nervous lump in your throat, then smiled at him.

“Isn’t it?” you whispered. “It’ll be fun to go to school here huh? The brochure said they even have a maze!”

“A maze?” he asked, his eyes widening behind his glasses. “Like in the movies?”

“Mm hm, just like in the movies,” you said. “And a lake!”

“Where is the lake?”

“I don’t know yet but they’ll show you,” you said and frowned when the thought hit you. “But you’re not going there without a teacher, alright?”

“Okay.”

“Pinky promise?”

“Pinky promise,” he said as you hooked your pinky with his and the door opened again.

“You can go in,” Rogue said and you thanked her, then turned to Theo.

“Don’t go anywhere, okay?” you asked and entered the huge office to see the man in the wheelchair behind the desk.

“Hello sir,” you said, your voice trembling slightly despite your best efforts as you approached him to shake his hand, then took the seat across from the desk.

“Hello,” he said with a calm smile. “I’m Professor Charles Xavier, we spoke on the phone. Y/N, isn’t it?”

“Yes sir,” you said. “Thank you for agreeing to see me.”

“Of course, it’s my pleasure,” he said. “I take it you’re here to enroll your son as we spoke?”

You nodded your head, fighting the urge to bite at your nails and took Theo’s file from his other school out of your backpack, then put it in front of him so that he could examine it.

“He’s um, he’s really good at math,” you said, stumbling over your words. “I don’t know if that’ll be helpful here but he’s—he’s very good at a lot of classes really.”

“I must admit, he is going to be the youngest student here and the fact that his power has shown itself this early on…” Professor Xavier trailed off, your stomach doing a painful flip. “We will have to work hard, but I’m confident that we can guide him and teach him how to use his abilities for good.”

You nibbled on your lip, clenching and unclenching your hands.

“I know it’s a boarding school but he’s not used to being away from me and I’m not used to being away from him,” you admitted, “You said on the phone that the students’ weekends are free?”

“Of course,” he said. “Some of our students only stay here on weekdays to attend their classes, and they spend their weekends with their parents.”

You let out a relieved breath. “Okay. That’s nice to hear.”

“I know you’re worried,” he said, his voice completely calm and soothing. “It’s very normal to be worried but trust me, you’re making the best decision for him.”

“I know,” you said, trying to convince yourself and him at the same time. “I’ve done a lot of research and—and I want him to be safe and this place seems like the best place to teach him how to be safe.”

Professor Xavier pulled out a paper from his drawer, then pushed it in your direction with a pen.

“We only need your signature,” he said and paused for a second. “That is if the father…?”

You shook your head.

“Not in the picture, sir,” you said as you signed the paper, your heart beating in your ears. “Um, it’s just me and Theo.”

“I see,” he said. “Well, I promise you that Theo will be in good hands, Y/N.”

“Thank you,” you said, putting the paper back on the desk and fixed your hair with a shaky hand just so that you could keep yourself busy, and Professor Xavier offered you a small smile.

“You can always contact me if you have any other questions,” he said. “I’ll talk to Theo after Rogue gives him his tour, and I’ll see you on Friday?”

“Yes sir,” you said. “Thank you, have a nice day.”

“You too.”

When you walked out of the office, you caught the sight of Rogue talking to a tall man with tousled dark hair, but you couldn’t see his face since his back was turned to you. For a moment you considered letting Rogue know that you were out, but figured it would be rude to interrupt, so you approached Theo who was patiently waiting for you.

“Alright bean,” you said as you crouched down to look him in the eye, trying to swallow the lump in your throat, desperate to keep the tears at bay at least until you were back in the car and Theo couldn’t see you. “What day is it today?”

“Tuesday.”

“And then we have…?”

“Wednesday, Thursday and Friday,” he said, counting with his fingers and you nodded your head, holding his fingers together.

“And on Friday I’ll come and get you, okay?” you asked him and he pursed his lips, then pushed his glasses up his nose.

“Just three days.”

“Just three days,” you repeated. “But before I leave, you need to promise me something.”

“What?”

“You’ll tell me all about how pretty this place is, in detail,” you said. “And how much fun you have. So you kind of have to see everything here and have fun, promise?”

“Promise.”

“And the signal?”

He smiled, tapping over his heart three times and you did the same.

“See? I feel it,” you told him. “When you do that, I’ll do the same even if I’m not here. Okay?”

“Mkay.”

 “Ready for your tour, Theo?” Rogue asked and he looked up at her, then turned to you and you pulled him into a tight hug, then smothered him in kisses as he let out an embarrassed whine.

“Mommy!”

“Okay okay, sorry,” you said with a small laugh, then adapted an overly serious expression and held out your hand. “A handshake then?”

He let out a giggle, then shook your hand and you forced yourself to smile, then stood up and straightened your back while he made his way to Rogue. Theo waved at you and you waved back, but as soon as he turned the corner with Rogue, your shoulders dropped.

Okay.

It was fine.

It was going to be just fine.

 “New enrollment?” a deep voice reached you and you looked over your shoulder, then turned around to see him better.

It was the same man who you’d seen talking to Rogue just now and God, he was so handsome. If your mind wasn’t numb with anxiety, you would have stood there and gawk at him for a good minute, but perhaps your worries were for once working in your favor. His intense gaze raked over you, making your cheeks burn and your heartbeat speeding up, and a small smile curled his lips as if he could hear it.

“That obvious?”

“Just a little,” he said as your hand shot up to pinch your bottom lip, his gaze following the motion.

“People don’t get killed or maimed here, do they?” you asked and he shrugged his shoulders.

“Not on weekdays.”

“Great,” you said after a beat, offering him a weak smile. “Thanks. I’m gonna go on a limb and say there’s a reason why they didn’t put you in the welcome committee?”

That made the corners of his mouth twitch and he nodded in the direction Theo had walked away from you.

“Isn’t he a bit too young to have powers?”

“Funny you should ask that because I repeated the same question over and over again until I cried myself to sleep last night,” you pointed out and scrunched up your nose when he tilted his head. “Sorry. My jokes get a bit grim when I’m stressed.”

“You look like a very relaxed individual.”

“Do I?”

“Not really, I’m convinced that you’re having a heart attack right now.”

You blinked a couple of times in confusion before the idea hit you and your jaw dropped, your stomach doing a flip.

Right. He—

Everyone here had powers.

Well if there was anything more embarrassing than making bad jokes in front of a very hot man, it was that when the said hot man could hear your heartbeat. You managed to close your mouth and shifted your weight, your hand shooting up to your mouth again so that you could bite at the hangnail on your thumb nervously.

“Yeah that’s kind of my factory settings,” you managed to mumble. “I generate enough stress to light up a whole city.”

He hummed, his unwavering gaze making your heart skip a beat and as always, your brain took it as a sign for you to ramble about absolute nonsense.

“I’ll be a very rich person the moment they find a way to monetize stress,” you stated. “Which should be any day now, and I kind of have a list prepared for that day; the first thing I’m gonna do is probably cry because knowing me—I cry like all the time, I cried this morning and I will probably cry when I get to my car after this but— but then I’ll buy one of those very expensive coffees, I don’t know if you’ve tried them—”

“Logan, Storm wants to see us,” someone called out from the end of the hallway, cutting through your rambling but he didn’t even look at the owner of the voice. Instead, a small smirk curled his lips as if he was amused with your nonsense and you swallowed thickly, biting at your thumb again.

“I’m Logan by the way,” he said and you raised your brows, then nodded fervently.

“Y/N,” you introduced yourself, lowering your hand. “Hello.”

“Hi.”

The silence that fell upon you felt like it would explode your head so you cleared your throat, throwing your shoulders back.

“I should—I should get back to work before I get fired,” you stammered, jerking your thumb over your shoulder and took a step, then turned around on your heels. “But um, nice to meet you.”

“You too,” he said, his voice completely calm unlike yours and you shot him a tentative smile, then made your way out of the hallway, then walked out of the building as fast as you could as if someone was chasing you.

“Oh I’m an idiot,” you sang to yourself, drawing out the last syllable like an opera singer while fished your car keys out of your backpack, your heart still beating in your ears. “I’m an idiot, I’m such an idiot…”

 The moment you got in your car, you heaved a sigh and pressed your palms on your eyes but your head shot up when your phone started ringing. You unzipped your backpack to grab it, then tossed the backpack back in the passenger seat and checked the screen to see your best friend’s name. You let out a breath, then touched the screen and took it to your ear.

“Julie, I’m an idiot I think,” you greeted her and she paused for a moment.

“Hello to you too sunshine,” she said with a laugh. “What happened?”

“Well the good news is, Theo liked the school,” you said, looking out the window at the mansion. “But I miss him already. Do you think—”

“You’re not changing your mind about this, we talked about helicopter parenting,” she said. “It’s going to be good for him.”

“Right.”

“Is that why you’re freaking out?”

“Not really but I will cry about it,” you pointed out. “Tonight I’m guessing.”

“Didn’t expect anything else, I’m bringing drinks to your place,” she said. “So? What is it then?”

“There’s a very, very, very attractive man there,” you murmured and she hummed.

“Just so I get it clear, how attractive is he again?”

“Very.”

You could practically hear her grin. “Good.”

“It’s not good!” you whined. “I’ve made a fool of myself.”

“It’s a part of your charm.”

“It really isn’t,” you said and looked down at your clothes. “And I look like a tax collector.”

“People other than tax collectors wear white shirts, we’ve been over that.”

“He thinks I’m a tax collector who can’t form a logical sentence,” you said, slipping a little in the driver’s seat to lean your knees to the steering wheel and she scoffed.

“Not really, he probably thinks you’re a—”

“We’re not calling me that,” you cut her off, making her laugh.

“Fine.”

You pinched your lip between your knuckles, then heaved a sigh.

“Theo will be okay, right?”

“He will be more than okay because he is going to be surrounded by the people who can in fact teach him how to use his powers, something you can’t do,” she said. “There’s nothing wrong with getting a little help, sunshine.”

You clicked your tongue, still keeping your gaze on the mansion.

“So let me guess,” she said, pulling you out of your thoughts. “This very very very hot man is tall.”

“Yes.”

“Looks cocky.”

“Uh…”

“And older than you.”

You blinked a couple of times, pulling your brows together. “How did you—?”

“You have a type.”

You drummed your fingernails on the steering wheel, then heaved a sigh.

“It’s fine,” you said. “I…I doubt I’ll talk to him ever again and you know, with Theo, I just don’t have the time for anything else right now.”

“I’m going to convince you otherwise but I’m going to need drinks for that.”

You breathed out a laugh, then checked the time.

“Gotta go,” you said. “I’ll see you tonight then?”

“Yep, love you!”

“Love you too!” you said and hung up, then tossed the phone on the passenger seat and started the car.

“Alright,” you muttered to yourself. “I’m so gonna get drunk tonight.”

[2] - Summer Breeze

[sunflowerwinds]

gentle touch | s.a

summary: you take care of sevika, jinx, and isha after the fight with vi and caitlyn. sevika, for the first time in a long time, breaks down when you remind of her that it’s okay to let go.

pairing: fem!reader x sevika arcane

contains: established relationship, fluff, angst, sevika needs a BREAK!, reader and sevika are lowkey parents now.

word count: 2.4K

a/n: i know i said yesterday i would post this but IT NEEDED SOME TWEAKING! i promise the next sevika oneshot will probably be smut but fluff was all that brain felt like writing <3

You had a gut feeling that Jinx’s plan would end badly. Even with Sevika’s repeated reassuring you that everything would fall into place and you two could finally have some peace in your lives, your strong intuition haunted your thoughts.

Oh, how you hated how right you were.

Jinx and Sevika burst through you and Sevika’s shared apartment with that small golden-eyed child, Isha. She was clinging onto Jinx’s leg, clearly infatuated with the deranged blue-haired girl. Your eyes lock on her fluffy head of head then those big innocent eyes of hers, noticing a little cut on her cheek. She whimpered as she followed Jinx into the apartment space, the elder of the two grumbling nonsense to herself.

Sevika's exposed skin was littered with scrapes and bruises, her chest rising and falling slowly. Your eyes shot to her exhausted figure, worry settling in your bones. You had almost forgotten about Jinx until you saw it out of the corner of your eye; her entire middle finger was gone.

Straight to the bone.

The empty space between her pointer and ring finger nearly made you gag out of discomfort. The overwhelming distress of needing to take care of the three had you lightheaded but you pushed through.

“Jesus,” was the first thing you said, walking up to Sevika’s towering figure to wrap your arms around her neck.

Your girlfriend tenses for a moment at the tackle of a hug she was receiving but recovered quickly. Her claw arm stayed by her side as her other found its home at your waist, pulling you in with a long sigh.

“What happened?” You mutter against her neck before pulling away to cradle her blue scarred cheek.

“The kid got in the way is what happened,” Jinx spoke up before Sevika could say anything as she trudged over to sink and twisted the tap, running her open wound under it with a wince.

Your eyes lock with Isha who is now staring at you and Sevika. You muster a weak smile for the child, turning back to your injured girlfriend.

Her eyes seemed… distant.

“Hey, Sev, baby?” Your voice is low, trying to get her attention.

The familiar gray of her eyes focuses on your own, blinking before shaking her head.

“We’re fine,” she dismisses.

Jinx scoffed from the sink. “And what do you call losing a finger? Just dandy, huh?”

Sevika had clear frustration written all over her features at the sound of Jinx’s voice, releasing your waist to trudge over to the couch. You watch her carefully as she reaches for the green bottle of liquor she often brought from the Last Drop and takes a huge swig of it.

You knew how defeated she must feel. Hit after hit; mission after mission. She was worn down and she attempted to hide it from you constantly. Her heavy eyes and dark circles underneath were a given to her clear exhaustion. She would get slightly irritable but kept it under control around you as you weren’t afraid of her as most were.

You were afraid for her.

“Sev, can you sit down? You’re bleeding.” You point to the cushions, brushing a few of your flyaways out of your face. “Don’t huff at me either. I’m not letting you rest until you get cleaned up.”

Without another huff or grunt, she does as she’s told. You hurry to your bathroom, rummaging underneath the sink in there to grab the necessities for the three girls. As you stood up on your bare feet and glanced at the doorway, there stood Isha with wide and curious eyes.

Your heart couldn’t help but soften at the sight of her little hat tipping as she was trying to watch what you were doing.

“You got a little hurt too, huh?” You question.

Isha simply stares at you, looking at the medical supplies in your hands. She was probably unaware of the droplets of blood on her skin.

“C’mon. Gotta get you cleaned up, sweetheart,” you jerk your chin back to the room where the other two were.

The child follows as you walk past her, her small boots hitting the wooden floors. Jinx was leaning against the countertop, simply staring at the missing digit. Isha immediately stumbles over to the equally exhausted Jinx, resting her head on her upper thigh and shutting her eyes in relief. You noticed Jinx’s pale back rise in tension for a split second before relaxing when realizing it was just the adorable child.

Her innocence was admirable yet worrisome.

You walk over to your girlfriend as you set the supplies down in front of you, sighing at her injuries.

“Sev, talk to me,” you frown at her zoned-out look.

“I should’ve left her here with you,” Sevika lets out an irritated sigh, rubbing at the bridge of her nose with her thumb and middle finger.

“Isha?” You question as you pour a bit of alcohol on a rag.

“Who else? She ran in the middle of everything. Got right there in between Vi and Jinx. If I wasn’t distracted with that little enforcer of Vi’s, I would’ve been able to keep an eye on the kid.”

As Sevika explained the situation to you, you carefully cleaned the scrapes of her arm and abdomen. The muscles underneath your palms flexed at the feeling of the alcohol seeping into the injuries. Your eyes followed down her toned arm, landing on the teeth imprints on the space between her pointer finger and thumb.

“Did that enforcer bite you?” Your brows furrow as you take her large hand into your smaller one in disbelief.

Sevika nods to confirm, noticing your tense expression.

“It doesn’t hurt if that’s what you’re worried about.”

You give a pointed look before shaking your head as you continue to wipe up the dried-up blood. She sucked in a sharp breath when you placed a hand on her upper chest, now inviting yourself onto her lap. Your thighs press against hers as you now tend to her face. Any other day you would’ve jumped her bones but everything in you just wanted to make sure she was okay.

Her hard eyes slowly soften as you lean in close to wipe the blood off of her sculpted face. She watched your every move, holding back the urge to litter your face in kisses. Staring at the curves of your lips to the little marks on the natural beauty of your face.

And she almost acts on that very urge until Isha takes her attention off of you tending to her as she hops up onto the couch. She holds back the grumble itching in her throat as you shift your attention to the child.

You grin sweetly at Isha’s awaiting expression. “Alright, Goldie. Come here. Let’s clean your face up.”

Her own small smile breaks onto her face as she scoots in closer to you, her much smaller knee bumping into Sevika’s. You lift your rag and dab it over the dried blood, watching it disappear from her freckled skin. Once you are focused on Isha’s minuscule scrape, Sevika’s palm reaches up to hold your exposed waist from leaning over on Sevika’s lap.

You ignore it for your own sake, sucking in a deep breath as you sit back up on her large lap. Cupping her adorable face and rubbing a thumb over the little cut before tracing the outline of her round face.

“See? Good as new.”

Isha holds onto her hat as she releases a soft giggle underneath her breath. Her big eyes glance at Sevika who furrows her brows in confusion at the child’s stare.

In the blink of an eye, Isha’s small arms throw themselves around Sevika’s neck and squeezes herself in between you and Sevika’s torso. You usually would scold anyone about having their dirty shoes on the furniture but watching Sevika’s panicked expression at Isha's affection was more important in that moment.

“Seems like she has a new favorite, Jinx,” you tease the blue-haired girl.

There was silence. You look up to see Jinx slumped against the countertop, face smushed into the surface as soft noises of slumber leave her mouth.

“Alright, kid.” Sevika patted her back as a signal for Isha to release her.

She refused; in fact, she even snuggled her small face into the crook of Sevika’s neck. Your girlfriend looked to you for help but you simply smiled, standing up from her lap. You lean forward to kiss her cheek before pointing to Jinx’s clearly worn-out figure.

“I’m going to wrap Jinx’s hand and I’ll take her to our room so she can sleep.”

Sevika opened her mouth for a moment but kept still on the couch as Isha kept herself seated on her torso and small arms clinging onto her neck. You try to hurry and take Jinx’s slim hand, wincing at the sight of the open wound but carefully wrap it before her reflexes kick in.

You didn’t want to lose a finger yourself.

“I’ll take her to bed,” Sevika’s gruff voice comes from behind you.

You jump at the sound, wondering how you didn’t even hear her get up from the couch. You turn to face her and hold back your smile at the sight of Isha still clinging onto her, her new mechanic claw arm holding her up.

“Are you sure?” You question, taping the wrap down.

Sevika nodded curtly and leaned down slightly to give you a gentle kiss onto your lips. You chase after her lips as you realize how much you have missed that feeling of her lips on your own. Her eyes couldn’t keep off of your own as she easily lifted Jinx’s figure and threw her over her shoulder.

You two share a look as you glance at Isha’s now asleep figure. Sevika carefully hands her tiny body over to you, making sure she is still sound asleep. You and Sevika make your way to the bedroom, your hand cradling Isha’s head and watching Jinx’s limp figure over your girlfriend’s shoulder.

As much as you enjoyed seeing Sevika be so attentive to the scrappy girl who she claimed she wasn’t fond of, you were worried about what was flooding through her brain. Once Sevika sets Jinx down on the mattress, you walk around her to set Isha down right next to her. Sevika stands right next to the bed, examining the two sleeping soundly.

“You can lay down too, Sev,” you hum, reaching for her forearm.

Sevika was silent before turning her head to look at your gentle touch on her scathed arm. You watch her brows furrow as she turns to your body, her broad shoulders relaxing. She lets you grab her hand to lead around to the other side of your bed. She steadily sits down, grunting at an ache that shoots up her spine.

You follow her movements and find your place snuggled next to her warm body. Her head turned to you and fell forward to place her forehead on your chest, her arms wrapping around your torso.

“I just… need you here for a bit,” Sevika admits as she inhales your scent that she missed so dearly.

You frown at the near whine in her voice as her grip on you tightens as if you were going to leave if she did. Sevika was rarely as vulnerable as she was at this moment with you. After Silco’s death, Sevika had to take over everything — not like she wasn’t doing most of his dirty work for him when he was alive. She didn’t have a her and it was draining the life out of her slowly.

“I’m not leaving, baby. I promise,” you tell her with consideration of her sensitive state.

“I said I would get us out of this.” Sevika begins and you shake your head, shutting down whatever bullshit was going to come out of her mouth.

“I want to be in this if it's with you, okay? Sev, I can see how tired you are, my love. You won’t let yourself rest and I can’t stand to see you slowly wearing yourself down like this.”

You lift your hand to take the elastic that was holding up half of her hair out, running your fingers through the strands on her tender scalp. Sevika lets out a shaky breath, clinging onto you tighter.

“I don’t want you worrying about me,” she huffs, voice wavering. “I can handle it.”

You sigh as you cradle the back of her head, sucking in a deep breath as your eyes fill to the brim with hot tears.

“I know you can. I just don’t want you to handle it alone. You already do everything on your own, baby.”

Sevika’s breathing was growing heavier and stronger, giving away how rapidly her emotions were taking over. The second Sevika lifted her head up to look into your eyes, you saw a single tear leave the corner of hers.

The clear pain on her face triggered your own tears that were building up in your eyelids to fall slowly. You shakily cupped the side of her face, watching her eyes shut at the feeling.

“I’m so tired,” she sighed, leaning into your touch.

You nod as you swipe away the streak, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“I know, Sev. I know,” you whisper. “You can sleep, baby.”

Sevika huffs out a slow breath, trying to regain control of her intense exhaustion taking over. Her beautiful gray eyes flutter shut, allowing herself to lean into you. You welcome her with nothing but love. You attempt to regulate your tears as you place a kiss onto her forehead.

“I love you,” you whisper onto the skin.

Sevika's arms relax around your waist, adjusting it so that Jinx’s creation wouldn’t be poking into your lower back. You knew the phrase was overwhelming for Sevika so you agreed to say it when you deemed it was absolutely necessary.

In the crook of your neck, she mutters: “I love you.”

You couldn’t help the next few tears falling from your face at her breaking voice.

She felt safe enough with you. Vulnerability was a struggle with Sevika but when she was able to release the worries of seeming weak, timid, a failure; you were so immensely proud of her.

You glance over at the two other girls who were sound asleep in the bed. Isha’s small hand held onto one of Jinx’s long braids and Jinx’s mouth was slightly ajar as her limbs were curled up into her body.

The steady beat of you and Sevika’s hearts matching with one another’s helps the two of you fall into a deep sleep.

TAGLIST: @breezy-sapphic @fict1onallyobsessed @fandomnana @cewl-casper @lovinglynny @archangeldyke-all

[zyafics]

SHOTGUN WEDDING | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (oneshot) | x Maybank!Female Reader

Summary — You and Rafe are nothing but casual. But when he suddenly has the idea to get married, you agree after some convincing.

Content — 18+, smut, fluff, fingering, blowjob, and banter.

Word Count — 2.2K

"Let's get married."

"What?" You say breathlessly, lifting yourself by the elbows and turning to face Rafe. You don't know if you heard him correctly.

"I said let's get married," Rafe repeats in a lower octave, pushing away the prickling feeling beneath his skin—a consequence of your reaction to his vulnerable declaration.

There it is again. Clear as day. You hadn't misheard him the first time, and the dawning strike of realization causes your heart to skip several beats. But you still don't acknowledge it. Blinking, you're trying to decipher whether this is some cruel trick. "You're not serious."

"Do I look like I'm kidding?"

Annoyance flickers through his hard features and you purse your lips, not wanting to provoke him further by providing a sharp-witted comment. Your mind is spinning—partially from all the orgasms Rafe pulled from you, but also from the proposition.

Marriage. Does he understand the absoluteness of that proposal?

You suspect he doesn't. "You're delirious," you brush it off with a casual laugh, wanting to admonish any potential embarrassment that may arise in him and to move forward. "Let's just forget about it."

"I don't want to forget about it." Rafe grits through clenched teeth. Your reaction is the complete opposite of what he'd imagined to happen. Sure, you weren't the type to jump for joy, but goddamn, you couldn't give him something? "You still haven't given me an answer."

"You don't want a real answer."

"I'm clearly asking for one."

"It's just the post-sex haze."

"It's called post-nut clarity," he rectifies, "And my mind is perfectly clear."

You're giving him exits, to pretend to forget about it and act as if it never happened, but Rafe takes none of them. He doesn't want to drop it, so, finally, you ask. "Why?"

A heavy beat passes before Rafe shrugs, attempting to appear nonchalant when all he can hear is the thrumming of his own heart. "I like being inside of you," he reasons, before meeting the unimpressed look on your face, and adds. "You make me laugh."

You scoff. "Yeah, so do small children falling over. Get off of me," you shove him off, pulling to the ledge of the bed where your wobbly legs find balance on Rafe's hardwood floor. Not knowing how to process this change in affairs, you go search for your clothes instead.

Rafe watches as you scramble around the room, a reflexive habit of yours whenever you feel uncomfortable. His agitation flares, his jaw locks, and with a narrowed gaze that follows your every move, he pulls to a sitting position and rubs his chin with the back of his hand.

"Goddammit. Stop looking for your shit and look at me," Rafe commands, his voice bleeds with a tinge of desperation, forcing you to halt your recovery search to face him. Exposed. Utterly naked. But instead of Rafe making some sexual innuendo about your body, his eyes remain on your face. "Why don't you believe me?"

"Because we've only been fucking," you list, using your manicured fingers to count out all the reasons why this is a terrible idea. "You call me whenever you want a hookup. We're never not arguing, and I swear, sometimes, you don't even like me."

"I like you just fine," Rafe shrugs a careless shoulder, but the conviction behind his tone wavers. "And all the other reasons are bullshit. So, what? If we get married, we can fuck and fight anytime we want."

"That's faulty logic," you retort and he rolls his eyes. "Plus, it's not the basis for a strong marriage. I'm giving you an out; you're not thinking straight, Cameron."

"I'm thinking just fine."

"You sure?" You take a step closer, about to raise three fingers in the air, and ask him to relay the count, when Rafe inclines forward to grab the underside of your thigh, pulling you in. You let out a little yelp of surprise, slotting between his spread legs.

He lifts his chin to meet your gaze, his thumb running absent patterns across your sensitive skin. With a low voice, Rafe asks solemnly, "Why don't you want to get married?"

"Have you not been listening?"

"Those aren't good reasons," he affirms, causing you to huff.

"Only you would tell a woman their reasons aren't good enough," you muse, drifting your hand to the nape of his neck. You tilt your head to the side. "What classifies as a bad reason?"

A beat passes before he answers. "You don't like me."

After he says that, Rafe holds his breath, his eyes searching your face to see any minuscule change in your features only to discover none. Your hand locates his chin, caressing the hard definition of his jaw. "That's not true."

Rafe exhales. "Then, it's settled."

"No, it's not settled."

He groans, tipping his head back, enough for you to see the grand column of his throat. His Adam's apple bobs over your infuriating buffers. It's amusing, and for a brief moment, you envision a future where you get to do this forever. "Do you not want to get married?"

"I never said that."

"So, you don't want to get married to me?"

"Rafe," you sigh, and he returns his gaze. You're referring to him by his first name, instead of the adorned Cameron, and his skin tightens at whatever you plan to say next. "You're a Kook. I'm a Pogue. We're barely in a relationship, and I doubt your parents would approve of this."

"Fuck what they'd say," he admits, with the relentless urgency behind his voice. He means it. "I want to. Since when do you care about what other people think?"

"Since I'm going to be entering into said family."

You say it with such dolefulness, that it sounds like you already accepted his proposal. Already imagined a future with him. The corner of Rafe's mouth lifts; he just needs to do one more thing to convince you.

Rafe hoists you onto his lap to straddle him, your ankles on either side of his waist, as your naked core rubs against the side of his cock, the sensation quickly hardening his erection.

Expecting him to lift you onto his tip, Rafe surprises you by swiping his fingers through your wet folds, causing a small whimper to rise from the back of your throat. "Listen to me," Rafe rasps, pressing gentle kisses along your collarbone before lowering to your breasts, while the tip of his fingers toys with your entrance. "You've given me your reasons why it won't work, I'm going to give you my reasons why it will."

"I'm not going to change my mind,"

"You sure?" Rafe grins, teasing your slit. Your walls clench around the nothingness, desperately needing to be filled, and it causes you to bounce up and down, rubbing yourself against Rafe's hardened cock. Your hands land on his shoulders for steadiness, and that's when he begins to pump you.

"I think we look good together," Rafe lists with a grunt, feeling your pussy rub against his length. Desire pools inside of Rafe, his cock throbbing, but he concentrates on the task at hand, adding another digit. "You're the only person that keeps me on my toes—fuck," he groans, and you smirk.

Your slickness covers Rafe's cock, but you don't sink down on it. "Are you sure you're going to win this?" You murmur against the shell of Rafe's ear, planting feather-light kisses along the edge of his jaw. Rafe squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, needing to gather himself before he slides in his ringed finger—the cold singlet grazing your heat, making you gasp and stop your movements.

Rafe holds your hips, while his fingers fully thrust inside of you with such vigor and performance, that a rich moan rips from your lips. He concludes his final reason: "And I get to fuck this every single night."

His darkened eyes lift to meet your hooded ones. His fingers work a steady but increasing rhythm inside of you, the coil of familiar pleasure twisting your gut. "Look at how pretty you are coming undone by me. Don't you want this forever?"

"Shut–shut up, Rafe," you whimper, your hands reaching for his arm between your legs, attempting to slow down the pace as your sensitivity is plowed into overdrive. Rafe snatches your wrists into one hand, dragging them away. "Too much."

Your legs attempt to close around him, but his large frame prevents such a thing. Rafe grins at the look of pleasure blooming on your face, the unsteadiness of your breaths alongside your lashes fluttering against your cheeks, and he fastens his strokes.

Whimpers and moans escape you in rising increments, and Rafe kisses your mouth, swallowing all that noise and desperation and need. "Say yes," he murmurs against your tingly lips.

"N–no," you refuse, still holding an ounce of restraint.

But Rafe simply laughs. His fingers slow its assault, leaving your mind a completely boggled mess. Nothing but the sensation of your orgasm on the near horizon resides, hooked completely on fulfilling your own pleasure, that you can't think of anything else to do but whine.

He looks back at you, sincerity capturing his face. " I like you, Maybank. It'll be fun to make it official."

"I—" You can barely comprehend a single word he's saying, the fizzling of your orgasm dissipating as you desperately try to wield it back in. "I can't think right now," you whimper, lowering yourself to give him a needy kiss, "Make me come first."

He doesn't need another reason before he reenters you, his thumb circling your clit and massaging it as his fingers thrusts in and out. Sounds of wetness echo throughout the quiet room, and when Rafe leans forward to add another mark—biting a sensitive spot on your neck—you unravel with a loud cry, tipping your head onto Rafe's shoulder.

Rafe guides you through your intense orgasm, your walls clenching around him so hard, they barely can move. Slowing his thrusts until it completely fade away, when Rafe pulls out, he presses his slick-covered fingers on the dip of your bottom lip, forcing them apart to lick clean. And when you do, he pulls you back in to seal it with a kiss.

Your chest rises and falls heavily as your eyes close for a moment of respite. Rafe's gaze, however, never strays from your face—patient and waiting.

This is such a bad idea. The whole premise of a Cameron-Maybank marriage could potentially knock the earth off its axis. You're from two different worlds and carry different viewpoints, but there's something fun, exciting, and fulfilling in being with Rafe. It can't be just because he gives you one of the best orgasms of your life.

You know JJ would hate this. He barely tolerates the idea of your hookup with Rafe as it is, and out of everyone, you value most of your brother's opinion. But, for once, you can't seem to find it in yourself to care.

"Fuck," you announce, reopening your eyes and meeting his stare. "Fuck it. Let's do it."

Rafe's lips pull to a genuine smile. "Yeah?"

You nod. "It'll be fun."

He grabs your hand, "Let's go."

"Right now?"

"Don't tell me you're getting cold feet already?"

"You think I back down from a challenge?"

"It isn't the first time."

You slap his shoulder and Rafe laughs. He moves his hand to your hips again, lifting you off when you stop him. "Wait," you say, looking between you, at the red and swollen cock that hasn't gotten its release. "I have to do something before we leave."

You sink to the floor on your knees, still between his legs, as your thumb rubs the pearly beads of precum over the tip, causing Rafe to groan. He was so focused on your pleasure and making you agree to his outrageous proposal, that he didn't get a chance to relieve himself. You want to help.

After all, isn't that the first step to marriage?

Taking him into your mouth and tasting your slick rub all over him, you hollow your cheeks as you begin to suck. Rafe moans from the contact your lips made with his length, your hand wrapping around the base to steadily pump him alongside the suction.

It feels like absolute heaven. His hands thread through your hair, pushing you deeper onto his cock, and making you gag on the girth. This made you retreat, just slightly, to glare up at him. "Don't do that."

Wanting desperate release, Rafe's willing to listen to about anything. "Yes, ma'am."

When you return to sucking him off, Rafe makes sure not to push you further on his dick without prior approval, so you can take him appropriately. At least that means he'll listen to you in the marriage. As you steadily increase your pumps, and your jaw aches from the stretch, you feel Rafe's cock twitch.

"Come on, baby, come for me," you command, lifting your gaze to meet his eyes. Not even a moment later, he comes inside your mouth, spilling to the back of your throat, and you swallow up every lick of his hot cum.

You wipe the corner of your mouth with the pad of your thumb, and Rafe assists in pulling you back to your feet. Giving him a kiss, you grin. "Good boy. Now, let's go."

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[mcrdvcks]

Oblivious, Baby, Oblivious

Summary: People would tell you that geniuses don't know everything, but you tell them that defeats the purpose of the word. Until one day you're proven wrong.

Word Count: 17.4k+

Pairing: Logan (X-Men) x fem!reader

Notes: i came up with this idea a few days ago and had to write it down. basically reader is a genius and her mutation is controlling nature (her code name is 'flora' but it's not used often. and yes, it's a winx club reference, sue me)

i tried to make it as inclusive as i could, but i'm still learning since this is only my second reader fic.

i would like to turn this into a oneshot series, so don't be afraid to send in any requests!

warnings: few uses of y/n, logan uses a lot of pet names for reader, slight innocent!reader

You had only been at the X-Mansion for a year and yet all the students seemed to love you. At first, you thought that no teenager would want to come out to the large greenhouse you had set up, but you were proven wrong.

At the end of every day, right before dinner, dozens of kids would come out and help you water the plants and pull out the weeds.

It was certainly not what you expected to do after college, especially after only having your PhD’s for 2 years. It had all started when you met Hank McCoy at a science conference in New York City. You had graduated a mere few weeks ago and were out trying to network when you met him.

After that, Hank took you to meet Charles Xavier and he offered you a two-sided job, teach a few classes and be part of the X-Men, after you went through some training. You didn’t know how to fight at the beginning, but now you think you’ve got the hang of it.

You had just finished teaching your advanced physics class, standing at your desk gathering up the papers before going to your office to grade them, when someone knocked on the open classroom door.

Logan stood leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, with that usual smirk tugging at his lips. “You done for the day, sweetheart?”

You looked up from the pile of papers, surprised to see him there, though you probably shouldn’t have been. Logan had this way of showing up whenever you least expected it, always with some sort of pet name that left your students giggling.

When you first arrived at the school and started your training, it was Logan and Ororo who helped you learn how to fight. You certainly were not on a level like Logan, but you now knew how to hold your own without completely relying on your powers.

Logan was probably the one you were closest to at the mansion, save for Ororo and Jean. You enjoyed his company, even in the late nights when you would tend to the plants and he would stand quietly nearby smoking a cigar.

“Just about,” you replied, straightening the stack. “I was going to head to my office and grade these. Why? You need something?”

Logan pushed himself off the doorframe and sauntered toward you, his boots thudding lightly against the floor. “Can’t a guy just drop by and check in on ya?”

You rolled your eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “I guess, but somehow I doubt you’re just here to ‘check in.’” You shuffled the papers into a neat stack, slipping them into a folder. “So, what’s up?”

Logan shrugged, hands now in his jacket pockets as he stood a few feet away from your desk. “You’ve been buried in books and papers all week. Thought you could use a break.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I’ll be done grading these in like an hour. It doesn’t take me long. Unlike someone else.”

Logan snorted, a small smile forming as he tilted his head at you. "Yeah, well, not all of us have two fancy PhDs and can finish things in a blink, darlin’."

You laughed softly, putting the papers into your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “You’re just mad because I keep proving I’m right.” You rounded your desk, smirking. “Plus, I’m having a movie night with Jean and Ororo. See? I can take breaks.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile as he leaned in just a little, casting you that knowing look he always had when he was teasing you. “Movie night, huh? Lemme guess—something boring and science-y?”

You scoffed, shaking your head as you zipped up your bag. “Not every movie night is a science documentary, Logan.”

“Mmhmm,” he replied, the teasing drawl in his voice making it clear he didn’t believe you for a second. “So, what are you watchin’, then? Some quantum physics thriller?”

You rolled your eyes, grinning. “It’s The Princess Diaries this time, actually. But I do like documentaries, so don’t knock them.”

Logan chuckled, the sound low and deep, and for a moment it made you forget the pile of grading still waiting for you. “I’ll let it slide this time, darlin’. But if I hear you talkin’ about how accurate the physics are in some movie during your ‘break,’ I’m dragging you out of that mansion myself.”

You gave him a mock-serious look. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, I would,” he shot back, his smirk widening. “And we both know I could.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he wasn’t wrong. Logan had a way of just picking you up—literally—and dragging you away when he thought you’d been working too hard. Sometimes you suspected he enjoyed it a little too much.

Before you could retort, Logan's expression softened slightly. “Look, Y/N, I’m serious. You’ve been bustin’ your ass all week. Go take a real break tonight, will ya?”

There it was again. That rare softness he showed only to you, like the tough exterior melted away for just a second. You never really knew how to respond when he got like that, so you shrugged casually and smiled. “I’ll take it easy tonight. Promise.”

“Good,” he said, his voice gruff but warm. “’Cause I don’t wanna hear about you passin’ out from exhaustion or whatever it is geniuses do when they work themselves to death.”

You walked to the door and turned back to face him, “Einstein slept 10 hours during the night and took regular naps.” You gave him a wink and walked down the hall towards your office, a satisfied smirk on your face.

Logan watched you disappear down the hallway, shaking his head with a faint smile. He wasn't sure when it started, but something about your energy, the way you threw yourself into everything—whether it was the students, your research, or even the X-Men's missions—had caught his attention. And now, it was hard to get you out of his head, let alone his senses.

He could always tell when you were nearby or recently in an area—your perfume was inherently you, mango with an undercurrent of something woodsy. And you always looked cute, a word Logan thought he’d never use. You constantly wore colors, usually pastels in varying shades, whether it be a shirt, your shoes, or even accessories in your hair. It was almost ridiculous how someone with two PhDs and the kind of brain that could out-think just about everyone around her could be so oblivious to certain things.

And that was why he found you so fascinating.

You were brilliant, no doubt about it—always talking about equations, theories, and whatever else you’d been reading about. But somehow, you never seemed to notice when he was flirting with you, which had become Logan's new favorite game. He knew exactly what he was doing when he called you varying nicknames.

It wasn’t like it was a secret either; pretty much everyone at the mansion had picked up on it. Hell, even the students were in on it, giggling whenever Logan tossed a pet name your way or gave you one of those half-smirks that drove everyone else insane.

Everyone except you, apparently.

You walked down the hall, completely unaware of the looks you were getting, or the fact that Logan’s eyes lingered a bit longer than they should have as you disappeared around the corner. Shaking his head, he let out a low chuckle before heading toward the garage. Maybe a ride on his bike would clear his head, though it probably wouldn’t. You had a way of sticking in his mind, even when you weren’t around.

---

Later that night, you were sprawled on the couch in one of the common rooms, sandwiched between Jean and Ororo as the three of you laughed at the antics on screen. The Princess Diaries was playing, and though you’d seen it a dozen times, it never failed to make you laugh.

You had your hair tied up and off your neck, and you were dressed in one of your usual casual outfits—leggings and an oversized hoodie that probably belonged to one of the guys in the mansion, though you couldn’t remember who. Logan’s scent faintly lingered on it, but you didn't think much of it.

You shifted comfortably, pulling your legs up to curl under you as Jean and Ororo sat on either side, each of you clutching bowls of popcorn and laughing at the antics in The Princess Diaries.

“I still don’t get how a movie about a teenager becoming a princess is this funny,” Jean said, shaking her head as she stuffed another handful of popcorn into her mouth. “Like, shouldn’t it be cheesy?”

“It is cheesy,” you countered, laughing as Mia slipped and fell in the movie. “But it’s good cheesy. There’s a difference.”

Ororo chuckled, glancing at you with an amused smile. “You’ve seen this how many times now?”

“Don’t judge me,” you teased, tossing a piece of popcorn in her direction, which she easily swatted away with a smirk. “This is a classic.”

Jean raised an eyebrow, giving you a playful nudge. “More classic than, say, 2001: A Space Odyssey? That seems more your speed.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “Not every movie I watch has to be some cerebral masterpiece, Jean.”

Ororo smiled knowingly. “Mmm, true, but you’re always spouting off facts about space or physics during random moments in these movies.”

“That’s because science is everywhere!” you replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You can’t not notice when something’s wrong.”

Jean grinned. “Like that time you paused Star Wars just to give us a lecture on how light speed doesn’t work like that?”

You huffed a laugh. “Well, it doesn’t. It’s all—”

“Science, we know,” Ororo finished, sharing a look with Jean that made you roll your eyes again.

“Okay, okay,” you conceded, holding up your hands. “I’ll try not to nerd out tonight.”

“That’s all we ask,” Jean said, smirking as she leaned back on the couch, throwing a kernel of popcorn into her mouth.

For the next hour or so, the three of you watched the movie without incident, though you had to bite your tongue more than once. A promise was a promise, after all.

When the movie ended, Ororo stretched and got up from the couch. “Alright, I’m heading to bed. I’ve got an early class tomorrow.”

“Same,” Jean said, standing and offering you a soft smile.

“Guess I’ll get ready for bed too, then.” You replied. Each of you headed to your rooms, Jean shared one with Scott down the hall from you, and Ororo’s room was close by theirs.

Your room was full of plants, small vines on the walls and windowsills, along with potted flowers across the room. It had been habit ever since you learned about your powers to always be surrounded by them, it gave you a sense of peace.

Taking off your clothes you got into the shower, where more plants were, including a rhaphidophora tetrasperma and a maidenhair fern.

You smiled to yourself, relishing the small oasis you’d created in your bathroom. The plants thrived in here, the humidity of your showers mimicking their natural habitat. It was a simple pleasure to see something flourish under your care, which was probably why you always surrounded yourself with greenery.

You rinsed off, the water now lukewarm as it cascaded over you, and turned the shower off. Wrapping a towel around yourself, you stepped out, the cool air hitting your skin as you moved toward the mirror. You wiped a hand across the fogged glass, revealing your reflection. You took off your shower cap, letting your hair free from its constraints.

There was a faint knock at your door, and you glanced toward it, frowning. Who would be knocking at this hour?

“Y/N?” Logan’s voice came from the other side. “You still awake?”

Your eyes widened slightly. What was Logan doing here? You quickly pulled on some comfortable clothes—an oversized t-shirt and shorts—before cracking the door open to find Logan leaning against the frame, his usual smirk in place.

“Logan? It’s kind of late. What’s up?” you asked, holding the door open just enough for him to see you but not enough to fully invite him in.

He shrugged, his eyes briefly scanning you before locking on yours. “Came by to see if you wanted to take a walk. Figured you might still be awake.”

You blinked, taken aback. “A walk? Now?”

“Yeah,” he replied casually, as if asking you to go for a walk at nearly midnight was the most normal thing in the world. “You’re always sayin’ how you like the way the plants look at night. Thought maybe you’d want some fresh air.”

You hesitated for a moment, considering his offer. You had planned on heading to bed soon, but you couldn’t deny the appeal of a nighttime walk—especially with Logan. The mansion grounds were peaceful at this hour, and the idea of walking among the moonlit flowers sounded tempting.

“Alright,” you said, pushing the door open the rest of the way. “Let me put on some shoes.”

Logan nodded, leaning back against the doorframe as he waited, his arms crossing over his chest. You slipped on a pair of sneakers, quickly tying the laces.

“Ready,” you said, adjusting your shirt and stepping out into the hallway.

Logan pushed off the frame and started walking beside you, his steps easy and casual. The mansion was quiet, most of the students already asleep, and you could hear the soft hum of night settling in as you both made your way outside. The cool air greeted you as you stepped into the garden, and you couldn’t help but smile as the scent of flowers and earth filled your senses.

“So,” Logan said after a moment, his hands sliding into his jacket pockets, “how was the movie?”

You smiled, glancing at him. “It was good. A classic, really.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. Jean and Ororo didn’t give you a hard time?”

You chuckled. “Well, they did try to poke fun at my love for science, but nothing too bad. It was all in good fun.”

Logan smirked. “Yeah, they like to tease. Just means they’re comfortable around ya.”

You gave a small nod, your gaze shifting to the moonlit flowers around you. You loved the way the plants seemed to glow in the night, the way everything felt so peaceful at this hour. It was one of the reasons you often came out here at night when the mansion was quiet and still.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence for a while, the soft sounds of nature surrounding you. Logan didn’t say much, but that was one of the things you liked about him—he didn’t need to fill the air with pointless conversation. He was just… there, steady and solid, like the trees you so loved to be around.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, taking in his relaxed posture, the way his jacket hung off his broad shoulders, and the ever-present smirk tugging at his lips. You wondered briefly what he thought of these walks. He always seemed to show up at the right moments, offering his company when you needed it most, even if you didn’t realize you needed it at the time.

“So, Logan,” you started, your voice casual as you glanced at a cluster of moonlit lilies, “what’s the real reason you wanted to walk tonight? I know you didn’t just suddenly decide to take in the scenery.”

He chuckled, low and deep, as he shifted his gaze to the path ahead. “Maybe I like the scenery more than I let on.”

“Right,” you teased, arching an eyebrow. “Because I’ve definitely seen you out here admiring the roses before.”

“Who says I’m talkin’ about the roses, sweetheart?”

You rolled your eyes, though a faint smile played at your lips. “Uh-huh. Keep dreaming, Logan.”

There was that playful glint in his eyes again, the one you’d grown used to but never quite understood. He always had this way of teasing you—soft, subtle comments that seemed to amuse him more than anything else. It wasn’t like you minded, though. You liked the banter, even if you never quite knew why he seemed to engage in it with you so much.

You gave him a sidelong glance, but Logan’s expression remained as it usually did—a little cocky, a little mysterious, his hands resting casually in his jacket pockets as he walked alongside you. The moonlight filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows across the path, and you found your gaze drifting back to the flowers blooming in the gardens. The peace of the night wrapped around you like a soft blanket, and for a moment, you almost forgot Logan was there.

“Y’know,” Logan said after a stretch of silence, his voice low and lazy, “you really are a mystery, sweetheart.”

You blinked, turning to him with a slight frown. “What do you mean by that?”

Logan shrugged, his eyes briefly flicking to yours before looking ahead again. “You’re this genius, right? Got two PhDs, can out-think just about anyone in the room. But sometimes… you’re completely clueless.”

You scoffed, giving him an incredulous look. “Clueless? Me? I don’t think that’s possible.”

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest, and he shook his head, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that teasing smile. “Yeah, darlin’. Clueless. You know a hell of a lot about a lot of things, but when it comes to readin’ people? Not so much.”

Your frown deepened. “I think I read people just fine, Logan.”

He stopped walking then, turning to face you with a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Oh, do ya?”

“Yeah,” you insisted, crossing your arms over your chest. “I spend a lot of time around people. I know how to pick up on things.”

Logan’s smile widened, like he was holding back laughter. “Is that so?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, confused by the sudden shift in conversation. “Yes, that’s so. What are you getting at?”

Logan’s grin widened as he saw you narrow your eyes, your arms crossed in clear frustration. There was something about how easily he could rile you up, how your normally sharp mind would stumble whenever he teased you, that made him enjoy these moments even more.

“You’re dodging the question,” you pressed, sensing that his silence was deliberate. “What are you getting at?”

Logan shrugged nonchalantly, leaning against the nearest tree, his usual smirk in place. “I’m just sayin’, for someone who’s supposed to be a genius, you don’t always see what’s right in front of you.”

You let out a huff, clearly not satisfied with his answer. “I see everything just fine, Logan. You’re not exactly subtle, you know.”

“Subtle, huh?” Logan echoed, his grin softening into a more thoughtful expression. “Maybe I’m not. Or maybe you’re just a little too focused on the wrong things.”

You stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate, but as usual, Logan didn’t offer anything more. He simply stood there, his eyes watching you carefully, as if enjoying the little mystery he’d planted in your mind. You could practically see the amusement dancing behind his gaze.

“This is just another one of your games, isn’t it?” you muttered, though there was no real bite in your tone. “You like keeping me guessing.”

“Maybe,” he said with a wink. “Keeps things interestin’, don’t ya think?”

You rolled your eyes again, turning away from him as you started walking down the path. You weren’t going to let him keep you on edge like this. You had better things to think about than whatever half-assed answer Logan was playing at tonight.

Logan fell into step beside you, his hands tucked back into his pockets. The two of you walked in silence for a bit longer, and despite the earlier tension, you found yourself relaxing once more. The garden was quiet, the night cool and calm. Logan’s presence, as always, was steady beside you, even if he did like to mess with your head sometimes.

“You know,” you began after a while, your voice softer now, “just because I’m a genius doesn’t mean I’m completely oblivious to people. I do pick up on things.”

Logan shot you a sideways glance, that infuriating smirk back on his face. “Sure, sweetheart. Whatever you say.”

“I’m serious!” you insisted, though a smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. “I just… maybe I’m not as concerned with people’s motives as much as I am with facts and data. It’s different.”

Logan gave a low chuckle, shaking his head. “That’s part of the problem, doll. You think you can figure out everything like it’s a puzzle. But people? We’re a little more complicated than that.”

You tilted your head, thinking about that. “I don’t see why it has to be complicated. People say what they mean, don’t they?”

Logan paused for a moment, his smirk turning into something more thoughtful. “Not always.”

There was a heaviness in his voice that made you glance up at him, but before you could ask what he meant, he turned his head away, eyes focused on something in the distance. The moment passed, and Logan was back to his usual self, his grin in place as if nothing had happened.

“Anyway,” he said, changing the subject, “how’s your latest project goin’? Still messing with those gadgets?”

You sighed, the shift in conversation allowing you to relax again. “Yeah, still working on a few prototypes. Hank’s been helping me out with some of the materials, but we’re having trouble stabilizing the energy output.”

Logan nodded, listening with genuine interest. “Sounds like somethin’ you’ll figure out soon enough.”

“I hope so,” you said with a small smile. “But it’s been a little frustrating.”

“Not used to runnin’ into roadblocks, huh?” Logan teased.

“Not really,” you admitted, a touch of sheepishness in your tone. “I’m used to things coming together quickly once I have all the information. This one’s been… tricky.”

Logan gave a low hum of understanding. “That’s the thing about science, sweetheart. It ain’t always predictable.”

“Yeah, but I like predictability,” you said with a shrug. “It makes sense. People, on the other hand…”

Logan laughed at that, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “I guess I can’t argue with that.”

The two of you continued your walk, the conversation drifting to lighter topics—projects, students at the mansion, the occasional prank pulled by one of the younger mutants. You liked how easy it was to talk to Logan, even when he teased you or left you hanging on a thought. He was always there, listening, offering his dry commentary when it was needed.

As you walked, you found yourself glancing at him every now and then, taking in the way the moonlight caught his features, the rough stubble on his jaw, the confident way he carried himself. You didn’t understand why he spent so much time around you, especially when he had no trouble being alone or doing his own thing. Logan didn’t seem like the type to go out of his way for someone, and yet… here he was.

“Logan?” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Yeah?” he replied, his gaze shifting to you.

“Why do you do this?”

He frowned, genuinely confused. “Do what?”

“Walk with me. Spend time with me. You’re not exactly the most sociable guy around here.”

Logan gave a low chuckle, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “Maybe I like your company, sweetheart. Ever think of that?”

You blinked, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. It wasn’t like Logan to be so direct about… feelings. You weren’t sure how to respond, so you simply looked away, feeling a slight warmth creeping up your cheeks.

“I guess I never really thought about it,” you admitted after a moment.

Logan’s smirk returned, but there was something softer behind it this time. “That’s ‘cause you’re too busy thinkin’ about everythin’ else, doll.”

You didn’t respond right away, still processing his words. Logan wasn’t one to lay things out so plainly, but when he did, it always seemed to catch you off guard. He had this way of making you question things—yourself, your understanding of the world—without ever really giving you any answers. It was frustrating, but at the same time, it was… endearing.

As the two of you walked back toward the mansion, the quiet settling over you once more, you couldn’t help but wonder what Logan had meant earlier. About you being ‘clueless.’ It wasn’t like you didn’t notice things—sure, people had their layers, but you weren’t blind to them. So what was he talking about?

---

The next morning, you were back in your usual routine—teaching classes, working in the greenhouse, and helping the students with their studies. It was a busy day, but you didn’t mind. The students were eager to learn, and you found a sense of satisfaction in watching them grow and develop their skills.

After your last class, you made your way to the greenhouse, your favorite part of the day. The students had already watered the plants earlier, so you spent some time pruning and checking on the growth of the flowers and vegetables.

The sound of footsteps approaching caught your attention, and you turned to see Logan leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” you said, glancing up from the plant you were tending to.

Logan shrugged. “Figured I’d stop by. See how you’re doin’.”

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “You checking up on me again?”

He chuckled. “Someone’s gotta keep an eye on ya, sweetheart.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you turned back to your plants. “I’m fine, Logan. Really.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, his voice closer now. You glanced over your shoulder to see him standing just a few feet away, watching you with that same unreadable expression he always seemed to have around you. “But it doesn’t hurt to check in every now and then.”

Logan looked over at a large strawberry plant in the corner, it seemed to have a lot of yield, bright red strawberries hanging from the branches.

“You ever try a strawberry with no pesticides?” You asked, standing up from the ground and taking off your gloves. You looked around the plant before pulling what you thought looked to be the best of the bunch, holding it out for him. Since it was August, the strawberries were soon going to go out of season, so this was the last good batch you were going to get.

Logan raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly as he eyed the fruit in your hand. "I’ve had my share of wild strawberries, sweetheart, but never from your garden.”

You rolled your eyes, stepping closer to him with the strawberry still outstretched. “Wild strawberries? Really, Logan? This is organic, homegrown perfection. Totally different experience.”

He chuckled, finally taking the strawberry from you, his fingers brushing against yours for a brief second. It was so brief you didn’t think much of it, but Logan’s smirk softened into something more genuine as he popped the strawberry into his mouth.

“Well?” you asked, watching him expectantly. “What do you think?”

Logan chewed slowly, his eyes not leaving yours. “Sweet,” he finally said, his voice low. “Real sweet.”

You smiled, pleased with his answer, though you didn’t quite catch the way his gaze lingered on you as he said it. “Told you,” you said, turning back to the plant to grab a strawberry for yourself. “Fresh strawberries are unbeatable.”

He leaned back slightly, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched you take a bite. “You take real pride in this, don’t ya?”

“Of course,” you said, glancing at him between bites. “There’s something rewarding about growing things. Watching them thrive under the right conditions. It’s like… I don’t know, creating life.”

Logan’s eyes softened as he listened to you talk, his smirk fading into something more thoughtful. “You care a lot about the little det- ” He was cut off by surprise, your thumb brushing the corner of his lips wiping off some of the strawberry juice.

You seemed to not think much about it, nor did you notice Logan’s heart sped up with your simple touch. It was over quick, you let out a soft gasp and walked behind him, looking up at a vine at the top where you saw a few ripe kiwis.

You reached your palm out, focusing your energy on the vines at the top of the greenhouse. They shifted gently, as if responding to your silent command, dropping three ripe kiwis into your hand. You grinned, knowing Jean would appreciate the fresh fruit later. It wasn’t easy growing kiwis in New York, but your powers made up for the climate’s shortcomings. Nature seemed to bend to your will, a fact you took quiet pride in, even though you’d never flaunt it.

Meanwhile, Logan was still in slight shock from your gesture, he could almost feel the spot where your thumb brushed against him, almost as if it was the most natural thing in the world. And you did it without thinking, in fact, you still didn’t seem to notice him looking at your back as you picked a few bunches of basil.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. It wasn’t just the way you talked about plants or how your hands moved with skill and grace—it was you, completely unaware of how you affected him. Completely unaware that his heart rate had spiked at the smallest, most innocent touch.

“Something wrong?” you asked, not even turning around as you picked at the herbs.

Logan blinked, pulling himself out of his thoughts. “Nah, just... thinkin’. You’re somethin’, you know that?”

You gave a short laugh, pausing to glance back at him over your shoulder. “If that’s your way of saying I’m a genius again, I already know.”

He chuckled, moving to stand a bit closer. “That’s not exactly what I meant, sweetheart.” His voice was low, with that familiar gravelly tone he used when teasing you.

But as usual, the hint flew right past you. “Well, whatever it is, I’ll take it as a compliment.” You plucked another handful of basil leaves, slipping them into a small basket on the bench. “And you should try to be more specific next time, Logan. It helps with communication.”

“Specific, huh?” Logan leaned a little against the workbench beside you, arms crossed. “Alright then, you’re smart, sure. But there’s more to it than that. You... you just do things without even thinking about it. Like earlier.” His eyes flickered briefly to your hand.

You frowned a little, confused. “Earlier? You mean the strawberry thing? Or when I wiped the juice off your face?”

“Yeah,” he said, grinning. “That.”

You blinked, not understanding why he was making such a big deal of it. “Logan, it was just strawberry juice. You looked like you were about to walk into a meeting with half a fruit smeared on your face.”

Logan let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, doll. I get that.” He watched as you turned back to your plants, completely oblivious to the fact that what had been a small, thoughtless gesture for you had stirred something deeper for him. He found it both amusing and frustrating—not in an annoying way, but in a way that made him want to get closer to you, to push the boundaries just a little more.

“So,” you said, shifting the subject as you snipped a bit more basil. “What’s got you wandering into the greenhouse today? It’s not exactly your usual haunt.”

Logan leaned back, watching you with those intense eyes of his. “Just felt like stoppin’ by. Spend some time with you. Ain’t that a good enough reason?”

You rolled your eyes, though your smile was genuine. “I suppose. It’s just... you don’t usually care about plants and stuff.”

“Well, maybe I’m changin’,” Logan said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You shook your head, laughing softly. “I’ll believe that when I see it.” You paused, glancing at him as you picked up a watering can. “So... you wanna help?”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Me? Helpin’ with your garden?”

“Why not?” you asked, stepping closer to him. “You’ve got hands, don’t you? It’s not all that complicated.”

He chuckled, reaching out to take the watering can from you, brushing his fingers against yours for a second time. “Alright, sweetheart, show me how it’s done.”

You handed him the can and pointed to a row of lavender plants nearby. “Just give them a little water. Not too much though—they don’t like it when their roots get too wet.”

Logan followed your instructions with a kind of amused curiosity, watching as the water trickled from the can onto the plants. It wasn’t the kind of thing he normally found himself doing, but there was something about the simplicity of it, something about you, that made it... well, not so bad.

“You really know your stuff, don’t ya?” Logan remarked after a few moments, his voice carrying a hint of admiration.

“Well, yeah,” you said, turning to grab some tools from a nearby shelf. “I’ve been doing this for a while. Plus, it’s kind of in my wheelhouse, you know? With the whole ‘controlling nature’ thing.”

Logan smirked, setting the watering can down as he leaned against the bench again. “Yeah, I’ve seen you do some pretty wild things with those powers of yours. But you don’t talk about ‘em much.”

“I talk to them.” You said, hiding a grin from growing on your face.

“Really?” he asked, surprised.

You laughed as you stood up, throwing a few weeds in a separate basket. “No. I was joking!”

Logan let out a deep chuckle, shaking his head at you. “You got me there, sweetheart,” he said, still leaning against the bench, watching you with that ever-present smirk on his face.

You grabbed a nearby hose, turning the water on low to rinse your hands. "Can't believe you thought I was serious. I mean, I get along with plants, but I don’t have full-on conversations with them. That’d be weird."

"Wouldn't surprise me with you, doll," Logan replied, still watching you intently. "You seem to know what everything around here needs, even without talkin' to 'em."

You shrugged, drying your hands on a towel. "It’s just intuition, I guess. Plants give off signals if you know how to read them."

Logan gave you a long look, his smirk softening into something almost affectionate, though you didn’t notice. "You sure it's just the plants you read that well?"

You looked up at him, confused for a second, but quickly shook your head, dismissing his comment. "Are you gonna keep talking, or are you actually going to help me?”

Logan pushed himself off the bench, standing up straight. "Alright, alright. Where do you want me, doll?"

You handed him the basket full of weeds, “throw them out.”

He raised an eyebrow, “that’s it?”

You handed Logan the basket of weeds, his hand brushing against yours for the third time today. He smirked slightly, but you, as usual, were completely unaware of the subtle tension.

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed in response to his earlier question, balancing two baskets filled with freshly picked fruits, vegetables, and herbs in your arms. “I’m gonna lock up and bring these inside.”

Logan didn’t move for a second, watching as you turned your back and headed toward the door, the sound of your footsteps echoing softly in the greenhouse. For someone so sharp, so brilliant, you seemed completely oblivious to the fact that he enjoyed these little moments with you.

That small, unspoken connection you two had—the one where you never quite seemed to notice that he was flirting with you—had started to become his favorite part of the day. Even if it had been going on for 8 months, and yes, he was counting.

As you reached for the lock on the greenhouse door, you glanced over your shoulder. “You’re still standing there, Logan. Are you gonna help or just watch me carry all this stuff by myself?”

Logan’s smirk widened. “Oh, I was just enjoyin' the view, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes, missing the deeper meaning in his words, as usual. “Right. Well, the view can help me with these baskets if it’s not too busy.”

Logan chuckled softly, walking over to you and easily taking one of the baskets from your hands. “You got it, doll. I’ll lend a hand.”

Together, you made your way toward the mansion, the quiet of the late afternoon settling around you. It was peaceful, in that way you liked—just the sound of your footsteps on the gravel path, the faint rustle of leaves in the distance, and the low hum of the cicadas in the trees. Logan had quickly thrown away the weeds and rejoined you, taking the other basket out of your hand, saying something about how he was ‘being a gentleman.’

You both entered the mansion from the back door, making your way to the kitchen where Logan placed the baskets on the island. Jean and Scott were already in there, Jean making her way over to the two baskets.

You, having an inkling for what she was looking for, reached into one of the baskets and pulled out the 3 kiwis. You handed the kiwis over to Jean, a smile playing on your lips as she quickly clutched them to her chest, almost like they were gold. It wasn’t the first time she’d done this, and it always amused you. Scott, of course, tried to intervene, reaching out to snatch one, but Jean shot him a look that was part-serious, part-playful.

“Hey, those are for me,” she said, moving slightly to block Scott’s hand. “I’ve been waiting for these kiwis all week.”

Scott smirked but backed off, raising his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. I wouldn’t want to get on your bad side, babe.”

Jean gave him a victorious smile, then turned to you. “Thanks, Y/N. You always come through with the best fruit.”

“Of course,” you replied, wiping your hands on a nearby towel. “You’ve been asking for kiwis since the season started, so I figured it was about time I delivered.”

Logan, still standing nearby, watched the interaction with a subtle smirk on his face. He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, looking completely relaxed but attentive.

“You sure know how to make people happy, doll,” Logan said, his voice low but teasing. “Always goin’ above and beyond for everyone.”

You shrugged nonchalantly, as if it was no big deal. “It’s just a few kiwis, Logan. Nothing special.”

Jean, now satisfied with her prized fruit, glanced between the two of you with a curious look, sensing something in Logan’s tone. She had noticed the way he’d been hanging around you more than usual lately, and it wasn’t hard to pick up on the little glances he threw your way when you weren’t looking. Of course, you remained blissfully unaware of it all, as always.

“You’re selling yourself short,” Jean said, throwing you a grin. “It’s not just the kiwis. You’ve practically turned the greenhouse into a mini-Eden. We all appreciate it, even if Scott can’t admit he’s jealous of my fruit.”

Scott rolled his eyes, but his smile betrayed him. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks for the garden, Y/N.”

You smiled at the compliment, though it didn’t feel like anything out of the ordinary to you. Taking care of the plants, helping out with the students, it was all part of your routine. You liked it that way—predictable, manageable. You didn’t dwell on the subtleties of interpersonal dynamics the way others seemed to.

Logan’s smirk widened slightly at Jean’s comment, but he kept quiet, watching you interact with the others. There was something about the way you brushed off compliments so easily, like you didn’t quite grasp how much people appreciated you around here.

You had already put a few strawberries in a glass bowl, making your way out of the kitchen to Ororo’s office without saying a word, something they were already used to.

“You sure you’re not going to say anything? You know, that’s actually straight to the point?” Jean asked Logan.

Scott reached into one of the baskets, pulling out a few blueberries, “at this point, you’re like a love-sick puppy following her around.”

Logan let out a low growl, plucking a strawberry out from the basket. “Keep talking dickhead.” He threatened.

Jean raised an eyebrow as she leaned against the counter, her sharp eyes flicking between Logan and Scott. "He’s not wrong though, Logan. You’ve been spending more time with Y/N than usual. We’ve all noticed."

Logan grunted, pushing himself off the counter and crossing his arms over his chest defensively. "She’s a good kid. Someone’s gotta keep an eye on her."

Scott smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Right, keepin' an eye on her. That's what we’re calling it now?"

Jean shot Scott a playful glare, but her attention quickly shifted back to Logan. “You know, you could just tell her how you feel. She’s oblivious, but she’s not stupid. Sooner or later, she’s going to notice.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, and he glanced toward the door where you had just left. His emotions were complicated—he’d never been one for opening up, and the idea of confessing anything, especially something as vulnerable as his feelings for you, wasn’t exactly in his comfort zone. He had been through too much, lost too many people, and the thought of letting himself get close to someone again... well, it scared him more than he cared to admit.

“She’s got her own life,” Logan muttered, his voice gruff but softer now. “I ain’t lookin’ to mess that up.”

Jean sighed, walking over to stand next to Logan, her tone gentle but firm. “Logan, you’re not messing anything up. In fact, I think you’d be adding something important to her life. She’s not the type to see you as a burden or a distraction. She probably wouldn’t even realize you were flirting with her until you hit her over the head with it.”

Logan huffed a half-hearted laugh, but the tension in his shoulders remained. “Maybe that’s the problem. She’s too damn focused on other stuff to even see it.”

Jean smiled softly, placing a hand on Logan’s arm. “That’s what makes her so special, Logan. She’s genuine, selfless, and probably the least manipulative person in this mansion. She doesn’t play games—what you see is what you get. And she likes you, even if she doesn’t realize it in the same way you do yet.”

Scott, still lounging in his chair, added, “Plus, you know, if you wait too long, someone else might catch her eye. Just sayin’.”

Logan shot Scott a glare that could have melted steel. “Ain’t nobody else gonna catch her eye, Summers. Trust me on that.”

Jean chuckled softly, giving Logan’s arm a reassuring squeeze before stepping back. “Well, when you’re ready, just remember—it���s okay to take a chance on her. You might be surprised by how things turn out.”

Logan didn’t respond right away, his mind already spinning with conflicting thoughts. He appreciated Jean’s support, but the fear of rejection, of losing someone else important to him, gnawed at his insides. He wasn’t sure if he could handle it again. And what if telling you how he felt ruined the easy, comfortable dynamic you two had? What if he lost the one person in the mansion who treated him like a normal man instead of a gruff, dangerous mutant?

Jean and Scott exchanged a knowing glance, but they let Logan mull over his thoughts in silence. They could push him only so far before it was up to him to take the next step.

---

You were walking down the halls with your bag in over your shoulder, all you needed to do was get to your office and take these heels off.

They looked cute online, not too tall or high, had some cushion on the soles, but wearing them was a completely different story. Which was sad because they were a cute baby pink which went well with your button up baby pink cardigan and white jeans.

But your office seemed so far away with the stabbing pain in your feet, luckily the halls were empty since most of the students were in their rooms doing homework or relaxing before dinner.

Having enough of the pain, you crouched down to unbuckle your heels, your bag moving down your shoulder to your elbow.

“Need any help, princess?”

You looked up at the sound of the voice, even though you knew exactly who it was.

Logan stood there, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. His eyes flicked down to your shoes before meeting your gaze again, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Need any help, princess?” His voice was low and casual, but that nickname—'princess’—it was just one of the many he’d taken to using when he spoke to you. Although you hadn’t heard this one before.

You shifted your bag back up on your shoulder and continued unbuckling the second heel. “I’ve got it, thanks,” you replied, not thinking too much of his presence. You’d known Logan long enough to realize he had a habit of showing up when you least expected him to.

He made a small grunt, as if to say ‘suit yourself,’ and watched as you continued to try and unbuckle the second one, but it looked like the strap was giving you a hard time.

Logan kneeled down in front of you without a word as you moved your hands away. You were smart enough to know that you weren’t exactly in the best position to unbuckle your heels, you usually did it when you were sitting down, not crouching in the middle of a hallway.

He easily unbuckled it and helped you slip out of the heels, your feet hitting the cool floor. You mumbled a thanks as his hand trailed up your calf with a feather light touch before standing up. Your heels were in one of his hands as he easily picked you up with one arm, carrying you bridal style.

You let out a small shriek of surprise, your arms instinctively going around Logan’s neck as he scooped you up with one arm, heels dangling from his other hand.

"Hey! I can walk!" you protested, more flustered than anything else. You were completely capable of walking, sore feet or not, but now you were cradled in Logan’s arms like a princess in some old fairy tale.

Logan's smirk widened, clearly enjoying your reaction. "Not fast enough, sweetheart," he teased, carrying you effortlessly down the hall. His voice was deep, a hint of amusement in his tone, and it made your cheeks heat up slightly, though you quickly tried to brush it off.

You rolled your eyes, not really sure how to argue back. "I’m pretty sure this is unnecessary," you muttered, though your voice didn’t sound all that convincing even to you.

"Necessary or not, you're gonna let me carry you," he shot back, glancing down at you with a playful gleam in his eye. "Besides, I don’t mind."

You huffed in mock defiance, but you didn’t exactly push him to put you down either. In fact, being carried by Logan felt…nice. Comfortable, even. Not that you’d ever admit that out loud. And it certainly wasn’t the first time he’d done this.

As the two of you continued down the hallway, you couldn’t help but notice the way his grip was firm but gentle, his arms strong and steady. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen how built he was, but somehow, it always seemed to surprise you.

"You know, this could’ve been avoided if I’d just worn normal shoes," you grumbled, trying to distract yourself from the way your heart was beating a little too fast.

Logan chuckled softly, that gravelly sound that always seemed to resonate in your chest. "Doll, I’ve seen you rock combat boots and still look like you’re ready for a photoshoot. But those heels…" He raised an eyebrow at the pink shoes still in his hand. "Yeah, maybe not your best choice."

You frowned slightly, glancing at the heels. "They looked good online…"

He grinned, amused. "You got catfished by shoes?"

"I didn’t get catfished!" you retorted, though you couldn’t help but laugh. "They’re cute! Just not comfortable."

Logan made a noncommittal sound, clearly not convinced by your argument. But he didn’t press it further, instead shifting you slightly in his arms as he approached your office door.

"Want me to break down the door for you, too, princess? Or can you manage the key?" he asked with a teasing glint in his eyes, looking down at you like you were some helpless damsel.

"I’ve got it," you replied quickly, reaching into your bag for your keys. "And stop calling me princess." The nickname felt weird, it made your heart beat faster and you skin flush more than the other nicknames he called you.

But Logan just smirked, clearly unbothered. "Sure thing, sweetheart."

You couldn’t stop the little sigh that escaped you as you unlocked the door and pushed it open. Logan stepped inside, gently setting you down on your feet.

As soon as you were standing, you felt the cool air against your now bare feet, and it was an instant relief from the torture those heels had put you through. You moved to put your heels down by your desk, but Logan still had them in his hand.

"You know I can take those now," you said, holding out your hand expectantly.

Logan eyed the heels for a moment, then handed them over. "You really should burn 'em, doll," he said in that same teasing tone, watching you place them on the floor.

"I’m not burning them," you replied, shaking your head. "They’re not that bad. I just…need to break them in."

Logan crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe now, watching you with that amused smirk still playing on his lips. "Or you could just stick to boots."

"Maybe I like being fashionable sometimes," you shot back, raising an eyebrow at him as you plopped down into your office chair. Your fingers brushed your hair back from your face, and you let out a small, satisfied sigh now that you were sitting down.

"Fashionable, sure," Logan said, his voice a low rumble. "But at what cost?"

You shot him a look but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. It was hard to stay annoyed when Logan was like this—playful, relaxed, his rough edges softened just enough to make you feel like he actually cared.

"Anyway, shouldn’t you be out doing something more...Logan-like?" you asked, leaning back in your chair, arms crossing over your chest.

Logan raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"

"I don't know, brooding? Scowling at someone?"

His lips twitched, clearly suppressing a smirk. "Maybe I’m just waiting for you to ask me to carry you again."

You rolled your eyes, fighting the warmth creeping into your cheeks. "Yeah, well, don’t hold your breath."

He chuckled, that deep, gravelly sound filling the small office. He didn’t say anything after that, just leaned against the door, arms crossed as he watched you settle in. The silence was comfortable, but it made you hyperaware of him—of the way his presence seemed to take up more space than it should.

You busied yourself with pulling out some notes from your bag, pretending you weren’t fully aware of how Logan’s eyes followed your every movement. It was strange, but also kind of…nice? Logan wasn’t like other guys. He wasn’t intimidated by your intelligence or the fact that you could talk circles around most people in the room. In fact, he seemed to like it, even if he teased you about it sometimes.

"Alright, well, thanks for the…uh, assistance," you said, breaking the silence and giving him a small, awkward smile. "I think I’m good now."

Logan didn’t move right away. His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he pushed himself off the doorframe. "Anytime, sweetheart."

And with that, he turned and walked out of your office, leaving you with your thoughts—and the faintest trace of a smirk on your face.

---

Every so often, you would have a baking day to use up some of the fruits efficiently. Some of the students would join you in the large kitchen, doing their best to help you by carefully following your instructions.

Some of them, particularly the older ones, would cut up some of the fruit, like strawberries, apples, and peaches. The others would measure the ingredients and put them in a mixing bowl before combining it all together to make a dough.

This time, you were striving to make a few blueberry pies, a large dish of peach cobbler, apple strudels, and some strawberry puff pastries.

Baking was something you enjoyed, but never really did in college. You usually were busier with labs and theses rather than cooking or baking. You practically lived off take out and dining hall food. But since you’ve been here for the past year, you’ve already held 4 sessions, including this one.

“Careful with those strawberries,” you said to a student named Ben, who was chopping up the fruit with a little too much enthusiasm. “We need them in slices, not chunks.”

“Sorry, Y/N,” he mumbled, quickly adjusting his technique.

You smiled softly and moved to check on the other group, who were working on the dough for the pies. A girl named Emily was measuring out the flour, carefully following the recipe you’d written down.

"How’s it going over here?" you asked, watching as she sifted the flour into a bowl.

“Good, I think,” Emily said, glancing up at you nervously. “Is this enough?”

You nodded. "Looks perfect. Just remember to mix it slowly so the flour doesn’t go everywhere."

Emily gave you a grateful smile before continuing her work. You loved these baking sessions. It was a great way to bond with the students and also let them explore a more creative side outside of their classes. Plus, it gave you a break from the constant intellectual challenges of your usual work.

Logan wandered into the kitchen a little while later, casually leaning against the doorframe as he watched the controlled chaos. Ororo and Jean were already in the kitchen, watching from the sidelines nursing a glass of a bubbly pink drink.

He couldn’t help but think about how pretty you looked, you were wearing a pastel purple sundress with a light green apron with vines and flowers embroidered on it.

The sight made him smirk—something about you baking in a kitchen full of teenagers, in your floral apron, amused him. It was such a stark contrast to your usual intellectual, no-nonsense attitude.

“Whatcha got cookin’, sweetheart?” Logan’s gruff voice broke the bustling sounds of mixing and chopping.

You didn’t glance up, too focused on guiding Emily through making the pie dough. "Just baking some pies and pastries. Using up the leftover fruit. Do you want some?" you asked casually, not thinking too much about the fact that Logan was watching you.

Logan shrugged, stepping further into the kitchen. “Depends. Is it any good?”

You finally looked up, raising an eyebrow at him. “You doubt my baking skills?”

He chuckled lowly, leaning against the counter now, close enough to see what you were working on. “Wouldn’t call it doubt, doll. Just curious.”

You gave him a small smirk, hands moving skillfully as you finished helping Emily measure the remaining ingredients. "You’ll have to wait until they’re done to find out."

One of the students, Ben, interrupted, grinning as he wiped flour off his hands. "Y/N’s baking is the best! She made these strawberry scones last time—they were gone in like ten minutes."

Logan raised an eyebrow, giving you a teasing glance. "Impressive, princess. Maybe I will stick around."

You rolled your eyes at the nickname but didn’t comment. Instead, you turned back to Emily, helping her roll out the dough. It wasn’t that you didn’t notice Logan's teasing, it was just that you didn’t think much of it. Guys didn’t usually flirt with you. At least not seriously. Most found your intelligence intimidating, or they simply saw you as ‘one of the guys.’ Logan’s pet names, in your mind, were just part of his rough-and-tumble personality, nothing more.

But Logan, on the other hand, found your obliviousness endearing. The fact that you didn’t seem to realize he was flirting with you only made him try harder, though he kept it casual enough not to push you away. He liked the challenge.

“You need any help?” Logan offered, gesturing toward the fruit Ben was chopping haphazardly.

“You’re not gonna burn the kitchen down?” you teased, wiping your hands on your apron before reaching for a bowl.

“I think I can handle it,” Logan said, a grin tugging at his lips.

You handed him a knife, showing him how to properly slice the strawberries. “Here, like this. We need them thin for the pastries.”

You held out the knife for him, and instead of coming up beside you like you assumed he would, he stood behind you, his chest against your back, practically caging you in between him and the counter.

He could hear your heart beat faster as he cut a few slices of the strawberry, asking, "That good enough for you, sweetheart?"

His voice was low, and you could feel his breath near your ear, but you were too focused on the task at hand to fully process the closeness. You glanced at the thinly sliced strawberries, nodding absentmindedly.

"Yeah, that’s perfect," you mumbled, moving slightly away to give yourself more room to breathe, though you didn’t realize why. "Just need a few more for the pastries."

Logan continued slicing, his movements precise, though his presence remained solid and grounding behind you. You were used to people standing close when you worked in the lab or in class—tight spaces, shared equipment, it came with the territory. But this was different. Logan’s proximity felt… intense in a way you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

"So, how long you been doin' this?" Logan asked casually, his voice breaking through your thoughts as he finished up with the strawberries.

You blinked, taking a second to register the question. "Baking? Oh, I don’t know… when I was a kid? I just started because it’s a nice break from… everything I guess.”

Jean and Ororo continued to drink their glass of champagne when Scott walked in, placing an arm around Jean’s waist as they watched the scene. “Think she’ll finally realize,” he asked.

Ororo gave a small grin and shrugged, “who knows? But Logan’s certainly getting bolder.”

Jean shook her head, “I told him to talk to her and say exactly what he was feeling, but turns out he still hasn’t taken my advice.”

Ororo chuckled as she took a slow sip of her drink, her gaze flicking back to the kitchen scene unfolding in front of them. "Well, you know Logan. Subtlety isn’t exactly his strong suit."

Scott smirked as he stood next to Jean, his arm still comfortably draped around her waist. "Yeah, but subtlety doesn’t seem to be the problem here," he said, eyes gleaming with amusement as he watched Logan hover around you. "He’s not exactly hiding it."

Ororo tilted her head, amused by how oblivious you remained despite Logan’s efforts. It wasn’t that you were unobservant; you were incredibly sharp—when it came to science, mechanics, and even battle tactics. But personal matters? Especially the ones involving yourself? Not so much.

"Poor girl," Ororo mused, shaking her head. "She’s a genius, but this…" She waved a hand in Logan’s direction. "This seems to be one thing she’s totally clueless about."

Jean smiled sympathetically. "She’s not used to people flirting with her. I mean, guys either get intimidated by her brain, or they just see her as a fellow intellectual, not… you know, a woman."

Ororo raised an eyebrow, her expression thoughtful. "Well, Logan clearly sees her as a woman. He’s made that much obvious. But I wonder how long it’ll take for her to figure it out."

Jean laughed softly. "At this rate? It might take a while."

The three of them watched with growing curiosity as Logan stood there, his broad shoulders and rough demeanor somehow fitting perfectly in the domestic scene of baking pastries with students. You, on the other hand, were entirely focused on getting the strawberry puff pastries just right, completely unaware of how closely Logan was watching you—or how he lingered longer than necessary when he handed you the knife, or how his teasing nicknames held a deeper meaning.

"She’s too smart for her own good," Scott added, shaking his head with a chuckle. "But when it comes to this, she's got blind spots."

Jean nodded in agreement. "Y/N is convinced she knows everything—and to be fair, she does know a lot—but she’s missing the whole picture here."

---

After Logan’s stunt on baking day, he wondered just how much further he could go. Sure, he could take Jean’s advice and outright tell you, but he also liked seeing you riled up and confused by his words and actions.

Like a few days ago, all he did was pull out your chair at dinner with the rest of the group and you just stood there, confused by the gesture. It took a few moments for you to understand and finally sit down before he pushed the chair closer to the table for you.

Or now, they were having a briefing, or meeting, about God knows what, most of everybody seated. You and Ororo were the last people to come in, aside from Charles. Ororo went to sit down at an open seat and as you looked around you came to the conclusion that there weren’t any other chairs available.

You were content with the fact that you were going to stand for the short meeting, as you found a spot to stand at the opposite end of the large round table, close to Logan.

“C’mere doll.” Logan said, lazily gesturing for you to come closer.

You hesitantly did, stopping next to his chair, your knee brushing his thigh. “What?”

He patted his thigh, “I don’t bite.”

Your eyes widened, a cute, innocent expression that he enjoyed seeing on your face, as you looked around the room. “I, uh- ”

Logan’s smirk widened, clearly finding your hesitation endearing. He patted his lap again, his eyes glinting with a teasing light. “C’mon, doll. Don’t be shy. There’s a perfectly good seat right here.”

You hesitated, your brain racing to process the situation. It wasn’t exactly appropriate for a professional setting, but you were running out of options. The only other seats were either taken or a bit too far from the discussion table. With a small sigh, you decided to give in. You didn’t want to stand for the entire meeting, and it was just one of those moments where you had to roll with it.

“Alright,” you said. You shot a glance around the room, but most people were already absorbed in their conversations or taking notes. You gingerly sat down on the edge of his lap, trying to maintain a sense of propriety despite the awkwardness of the situation.

Logan’s arm naturally wrapped around your waist to stabilize you, but he didn’t say anything as you settled. You could feel his warmth radiating through his leather jacket, and it was strangely comforting despite the unusual circumstances. He leaned in slightly, his breath tickling your ear as he whispered, “You alright there, sweetheart?”

You nodded, trying to focus on the meeting but acutely aware of how close he was. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you replied, though you could feel your cheeks warming slightly. “Just trying to get comfortable.”

Logan chuckled softly, the sound reverberating through his chest and making you shift just a bit closer. His hand rested lightly on your hip, not too firm but enough to make you acutely aware of his presence. You tried to ignore it and concentrate on the meeting, but his proximity made that task rather difficult.

The meeting continued, with Charles and the others discussing various topics related to ongoing projects and missions. Logan’s hand on your hip was a constant reminder of his presence, but he remained quiet, only chiming in occasionally with his usual gruff comments or suggestions.

---

At breakfast one day, you were sitting with Hank talking about the project you two were working on that was finally getting somewhere. You had finally been able to stabilize the energy output and now you two were talking about what to do next.

Logan sipped his coffee, looking at your from afar. As always, you were dressed cute today. You were wearing a light blue sweater with a pair of your skinny jeans and white flats, paired with matching drop earrings.

Ororo and Jean came up beside him, the former tsking. Ororo gave Logan a knowing look, crossing her arms. "You still at it, huh?" she teased, nodding in your direction.

Logan grunted but didn't respond immediately, sipping his coffee as he watched you and Hank animatedly discuss your project. You were explaining something with such enthusiasm, using your hands to gesture wildly, that it made him smirk. The light blue sweater you wore today only added to the adorable vibe you unknowingly radiated.

Jean nudged him lightly. "Nine months, Logan. Nine months of flirting, and she’s still completely oblivious." She shook her head, amused.

"She’s a genius, remember?" Ororo said, raising an eyebrow. "She’s supposed to know everything."

Logan snorted, finally setting his coffee down. "Well, she clearly doesn’t know this. And I’m in no rush to tell her." He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his broad chest. His eyes didn’t leave you, even as the conversation between Hank and you grew more intense.

Jean chuckled. "It's kinda cute, though. Watching her get all flustered whenever you call her those names, like she’s completely missing the point."

"I know," Logan muttered with a grin. "She gets that little furrow in her brow, like she’s trying to figure it out, but then brushes it off. She’s too wrapped up in all her fancy projects and theories."

Ororo shook her head in disbelief. "You’ve got the patience of a saint. Most people would’ve given up by now."

Logan shrugged, glancing at Ororo. "Ain’t in any hurry. She’s worth the wait."

Jean smiled softly at that, then sighed. "Well, good luck. Maybe one day she’ll actually catch on."

As if on cue, you let out a triumphant laugh from across the room, and Logan’s attention immediately shifted back to you. You had a bright smile on your face, clearly excited about whatever breakthrough you and Hank had just made.

"You’re like a moth to a flame," Ororo muttered under her breath with a smirk, walking off with Jean to sit down.

Logan ignored her, his eyes still locked on you as you gathered up some papers and started to walk toward the exit. As you passed him, he casually stuck his leg out just enough that you had to stop short to avoid tripping.

“Logan!” you exclaimed, looking down at his leg and then up at him with confusion.

He raised an eyebrow, taking another sip of his coffee. "Mornin', sweetheart."

You blinked at him, clearly thrown off for a moment. "Uh, morning." You shifted the stack of papers in your arms. "Why’d you—"

"Just wanted to say good job," he interrupted, nodding toward the papers in your hand. "Whatever you and Hank were talkin’ about over there seemed pretty important."

Your face lit up at the mention of your project, and you immediately launched into an explanation, completely forgetting about Logan's odd behavior. "Oh, yeah! We finally stabilized the energy output! It’s been driving us crazy for weeks, but we think we’ve figured out how to—"

Logan barely paid attention to the technical jargon that followed, more focused on the way your eyes sparkled as you talked, your excitement contagious. He gave a few gruff nods, pretending to follow along, but it was the way you lit up when you were passionate about something that kept him hooked.

"You’re incredible, you know that?" he said once you finished, his voice low and serious.

You blinked, taken aback. "Uh, what?"

"I said you’re incredible." He repeated, his gaze locking onto yours. "Smart, talented, and cute as a button. Gotta give credit where it’s due."

Your cheeks flushed pink, and you quickly looked down at the papers in your arms. "Oh, um, thanks, Logan," you mumbled, completely missing the deeper implication of his words, as usual. "I... I should probably get these to the lab. We need to review them before the next phase."

"Of course," Logan said, his smirk widening as he watched you stumble over your words. "But don’t forget to take a break, doll. All work and no play ain’t good for anyone."

"Right," you said, nodding as you hurried off, your mind already shifting back to your project, completely oblivious to the playful grin on Logan's face.

---

“You’ve never even been clubbing!?” Ororo exclaimed, holding up a finger to stop you from saying anything. “And you know I’m not talking about something like a ‘gardening club’.”

“And you have?” You asked, sitting on your bed as Jean looked through your closet.

Ororo laughed, shaking her head at your naivety. “Oh, Y/N, honey, I’ve been out dancing plenty of times. Clubbing is one of those things you just have to experience.”

Jean, still rummaging through your closet, chimed in, "She’s right, Y/N. It's fun to get out of the lab once in a while and let loose. You spend so much time buried in your work. You deserve a break."

You sighed, sinking back onto the bed. "I don’t know… It just seems like a waste of time. We could watch a movie, drink some wine, and call it a night."

Ororo leaned against your dresser, crossing her arms. "You can’t hide behind your projects forever, Flora. You need to socialize, let your hair down." She smirked, looking at you pointedly. "You never know, maybe someone will finally catch your eye."

You furrowed your brow, unconvinced. "Like who?"

Jean shared a knowing look with Ororo before turning to face you, holding up a dress you’d forgotten you owned. “Who knows? There could be someone at the club. Or maybe someone you’ve been completely blind to.”

Ororo raised an eyebrow and added, "Someone who’s been giving you attention for months, perhaps."

Your eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"

Jean grinned, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she held up the dress in front of you. "Nothing, just an observation. Now, come on, put this on. Let’s see how it looks."

You sighed, getting off the bed and taking the dress from Jean’s hands. "I still don’t get what the big deal is. I’m perfectly fine without this whole clubbing thing."

Ororo smirked, stepping toward the door. “Trust us. You’ll thank us later.”

---

A few hours later, you found yourself standing outside one of the busiest clubs in the city, feeling slightly out of place in the dress Jean had picked out for you. The music thumped from inside the building, the bass reverberating through the sidewalk as people lined up to get in. You stood between Jean and Ororo, who both looked far more comfortable in their outfits than you felt in yours.

"I can’t believe you guys convinced me to come," you muttered under your breath, shifting on your feet as you glanced at the line of people ahead.

Jean grinned, looping her arm through yours. "You’re going to have fun. Trust me. It’s a nice change of pace."

Ororo nodded in agreement. "Plus, you deserve a night out. You’ve been working hard."

As you were about to respond, the doors of the club swung open, and you were hit with a blast of cool air mixed with the sound of thumping music. The bouncer waved the three of you in without a second glance, and before you knew it, you were inside, the lights flashing and the crowd buzzing with energy.

You followed Jean and Ororo through the throngs of people, weaving through the packed dance floor until you reached the bar. The atmosphere was unlike anything you were used to—loud, chaotic, and a little overwhelming. You weren’t sure how you felt about it yet.

Ororo leaned against the bar, ordering drinks while Jean turned to you with a grin. "What do you think so far?"

You shrugged, glancing around. "It’s... different."

"Just give it a chance," Jean said, patting your arm. "Once you get a drink in you and loosen up a bit, you’ll feel better."

The bartender handed Ororo three drinks, and she passed one to you with a wink. "To new experiences, Flora."

You hesitated for a moment before raising your glass. "To new experiences, I guess."

The three of you clinked glasses, and you took a sip, feeling the warmth of the alcohol start to settle in. Maybe this night wouldn’t be so bad after all.

---

An expensive Uber trip later and you three were back at the mansion at 4 in the morning. Luckily it was Friday, or Saturday now, so there was no need to worry about being hungover for classes.

You don’t think you’ve ever drank that much alcohol, but to be fair, you must have a really low tolerance since you never partied in college, other than the occasional glass of wine.

So, drinking around 5 or 6 fruity cocktails surely made you see things differently. Maybe just a tad bit too blurry and clumsy.

You fumbled with your keys at the mansion door, Jean giggling behind you. “Here, let me help,” she offered, her hands steadier than yours as she took the keys and unlocked the door with ease.

“I’m fine, Jean!” you protested with a laugh, swaying slightly as you stepped inside. You weren’t used to feeling so... unbalanced. Everything seemed lighter, funnier, and a little more ridiculous after the alcohol. You were starting to understand why people did this more often.

Ororo walked in behind you, shaking her head but smiling. “Maybe next time we won’t let you have quite so many drinks,” she teased, gently guiding you toward the living room. “You’re gonna feel this tomorrow.”

“I’m a genius,” you declared, holding your head high in mock dignity, “I’ll be fine.”

Jean snorted, flopping onto the couch. “Oh yeah? Even geniuses can’t outsmart a hangover.”

You waved her off, settling into a chair, only to realize it was far too squishy, causing you to slide right down onto the floor. You stared at it for a second, then burst out laughing. “Who put a trap here?”

Ororo and Jean were in hysterics now, and even though your head was spinning, you couldn’t help but join in.

“You know,” Ororo started between giggles, “for someone who knows everything, you sure don’t know how to handle a drink.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, or at least tried to. “It’s... an anomaly. Unpredictable variables.”

“Right,” Jean said, leaning back with a grin, “just like Logan’s flirting.”

You blinked, the name snapping you out of your drunken haze for a second. “Logan’s what?”

Ororo and Jean exchanged glances before looking back at you, their smiles widening.

“His flirting,” Jean repeated slowly, as if explaining a simple concept.

You squinted, feeling like your brain was moving through molasses. “Flirting? Logan? With me?”

Ororo rolled her eyes playfully. “Yes, Y/N. For months. You seriously haven’t noticed?”

You stared at them both, utterly lost. “Flirting? Logan? Are you guys drunk too?”

Jean sighed dramatically, standing up. “I think you’re too far gone to process this tonight.”

You shook your head, still trying to wrap your mind around what they were saying. Logan? Flirting? With you? It didn’t make any sense. Logan was... well, Logan.

Ororo pulled you up from the floor, patting your arm. “Let’s get you to bed. You can overthink this tomorrow.”

---

The next morning, you woke up with a pounding headache and a stomach that felt like it was doing somersaults. Groaning, you dragged yourself out of bed, making a mental note to never drink that much again.

As you made your way to the kitchen, hoping to find coffee and maybe something greasy to settle your stomach, you tried to remember the details from last night. Jean and Ororo had said something about Logan... flirting with you?

You shook your head. That couldn’t be right. Logan wasn’t the type to flirt. He was gruff, tough, and mostly kept to himself. Sure, he called you pet names, but that didn’t mean anything. Right?

Pouring yourself a cup of coffee, you sat at the kitchen island, still groggy. You were about to take a sip when you heard the familiar sound of boots approaching.

“Mornin’, doll,” Logan greeted as he walked in, his voice a low rumble.

You looked up at him, your brain still foggy, and for some reason, the word ‘flirting’ popped into your mind again. You stared at him for a moment longer than necessary, your head tilting slightly.

“Uh... morning,” you replied, your voice a little more unsure than usual. You couldn’t stop replaying what Jean and Ororo had said last night. Was this flirting? You eyed Logan, trying to decipher his expression.

He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “You look like hell.”

“Gee, thanks,” you muttered, taking a sip of your coffee. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

Logan chuckled, that deep, rough sound that always sent a weird shiver down your spine. “Guess you didn’t take my advice about not overdoing it, huh?”

You blinked. “What advice?”

“Last night,” he said, smirking, “told ya not to have too many drinks, sweetheart.”

Your brow furrowed. “Wait, you were there?”

“Yeah,” Logan said, clearly amused. “Passed by when you three were heading out. You looked excited about... whatever the hell it is you get excited about.”

You frowned, trying to remember him saying that. It was all so hazy. Then you shook your head, deciding to just drop it. “Well, I’ll survive.”

Logan gave you a lazy grin. “Tough as nails, aren’t ya?”

You shrugged, trying to play it off. “I guess so.”

There was a moment of silence before Logan pushed off the counter and moved closer. He reached out and gently tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing your cheek for just a second too long. “Good thing. Wouldn’t want ya to break, sweetheart.”

Your eyes widened, your breath catching in your throat. This was... different. You felt your face heat up, and you quickly turned your attention back to your coffee. “Uh... right.”

Logan’s smirk didn’t fade as he stepped back. “See ya around, darlin’.”

You watched him leave the kitchen, your heart pounding in your chest for reasons you couldn’t quite explain. What was that? Was that what Jean and Ororo had been talking about? Or was it just him being old-fashioned, after all he was over 200 years old, and you were a mere 25. He was the Wolverine, and you were just a young teacher that happened to be an X-Men.

---

It had been a week since you had gone out clubbing with Jean and Ororo and you were too far gone in your own mind. You started observing things more carefully, the way Logan would rest his hand on your lower back when he was walking you to your next class, how he occasionally brought you snacks when you were in the lab, telling Hank that they were only for you, and finally, how he really only called you nicknames.

Ever since that realization, you tried to keep it hidden, to process it on your own. After all, guys didn’t like you. You weren’t exactly the kind of girl they wanted.

Logan noticed how you got more nervous around him, your heart beating faster, how you seemed to stumble over your words more often than not around him. At one point, he asked Jean about it, to which she revealed her and Ororo did what he couldn’t.

He ended up outside of your office, hearing you talk to one of the senior students about which colleges were the best for his major. You assured him that just because it was September, doesn’t mean he’s too late to apply.

Logan knocked on the door as you said that the door was unlocked. He hadn’t seen your outfit today, a white pencil skirt paired with a skintight, long sleeve peach colored shirt. Your hip was leaning against the front of the desk next to where the student was sitting.

Kean looked between the two of you, before quickly gathering his things and the brochures you gave him for various colleges.

"Remember to look into some engineering programs! I’d think they’d be great for you!" You called out after Kean, watching as the student hurried out of your office. The door clicked shut behind him, and you sighed, thinking of the next round of paperwork waiting on your desk. You were about to walk around your desk to sit down when you noticed Logan still standing there, leaning casually against the doorframe, his eyes focused on you in that intense way he often did.

"Sweetheart, got a minute?" Logan's voice was rough, familiar, and held that signature casualness that made it feel like he wasn't really asking.

You blinked, startled for a second before nodding. "Uh, yeah. Sure, Logan. What's up?"

Logan stepped further into the room, his eyes scanning you briefly. "You looked pretty wrapped up in your work. Thought you could use a break."

Your mind raced, suddenly self-conscious. "Yeah, I’ve been helping some of the seniors with their college stuff," you explained, motioning to the brochures still scattered across your desk. "It's that time of year where they start panicking about applications."

Logan smirked, his arms crossing over his chest. "You always keep yourself busy, don’t ya, doll?"

You rolled your lower lip while humming as your answer. You crossed your arms, watching as Logan came closer to you, standing almost toe to toe with your pointy short peach colored heels.

“You finally figured it out then, didn’t ya?” He asked.

“I- well, uh…” you stammered, suddenly feeling heat rush to your face. Why was Logan looking at you like that? And what did he mean by ‘you finally figured it out’? Were Ororo and Jean right?

Logan’s smirk deepened, amusement dancing in his eyes as he watched you fumble over your words. "You’re a genius, sweetheart. I’m sure you’ve noticed by now."

Your heart raced, and you felt your palms start to sweat. Why was he so close? You tried to focus on the conversation, on anything other than how your body was reacting to his presence. "N-noticed what?" you managed to get out, your voice sounding way less composed than you intended.

Logan raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying this far more than you were. "How I’ve been flirtin’ with ya for months now," he said casually, as if he were commenting on the weather.

Your brain short-circuited. Flirting? Logan? Flirting? With you? That didn’t make any sense. Logan flirted with women who were… well, not you. He was the rough-around-the-edges kind of guy who went for women who were confident, flirtatious, and knew how to handle someone like him. You were the awkward  genius who spent more time in the lab than anywhere else. Guys didn’t flirt with you.

"You’ve been—wait, what?" you asked, blinking rapidly, trying to make sense of what he was saying. "You’ve been flirting with me?"

Logan chuckled, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. "Yeah, doll. Pretty sure everyone at the mansion’s noticed by now." His smirk returned as he added, "Except you, apparently."

Your face burned, and you tried to think back. Had he been flirting? The nicknames, the snacks, the casual touches… it all seemed so… normal for Logan. You thought he was just being friendly, maybe a bit protective like he was with some of the younger students.

"I—" You started to say something but stopped, unsure of what exactly to say. You felt like the ground had shifted beneath you. "Why didn’t anyone tell me?"

Logan shrugged. "Didn’t think it was their place. Figured you’d catch on eventually." His gaze softened, and he added, "Didn’t expect you to be this oblivious, though. Kinda cute."

You were sure your face couldn’t get any redder. "I’m not… I’m not oblivious," you mumbled, crossing your arms defensively. "I just didn’t think you’d be interested in someone like me."

Logan’s eyebrows shot up. "And why the hell not?"

"Because I’m… me!" You motioned to yourself, like that explained everything. "Guys don’t flirt with me, Logan. They’re usually intimidated or just… I don’t know. I’m not the kind of girl guys like."

You didn’t have any friends until you came here, which was sad because you were 24 when you finally had some.

Sure, you tried to make some during college, joined the gardening club and the astronomy club, but whenever you talked people would never really listen to you.

You even tried going on a few dates with some guys from online dating apps. They were your age, but they were in their third year of college while you were already working on two master’s degrees. You even had similarities with a few of them.

One guy liked Star Wars, and you went into a short rant about how the physics of it was wrong and even talked about a bunch of the lore behind it. Same with the other 2 dates you went on, they were all one and done.

Guys didn’t like you. That’s just the way it was.

Logan raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard, doll. You think guys don’t notice you?”

You crossed your arms, feeling defensive again. “I don’t think, I know. Trust me, I’ve tried.” You paused, hesitating before you added, “I’m not exactly… good at this kind of thing. Social stuff, I mean. I’m better at figuring out equations than people.”

Logan stepped closer, so close that you could feel the warmth radiating off him. “You’re wrong, sweetheart,” he said softly, his voice surprisingly gentle. “You’ve got this idea in your head that no one’s gonna want you because you’re too smart or too different, but that ain’t true. Not even close.”

You blinked up at him, unsure of how to respond. The intensity of his gaze made your stomach flutter in a way that felt both exciting and terrifying. “I just… I don’t see why you’d be interested in me,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re Logan. You could have anyone.”

Logan chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Yeah, but I don’t want just anyone.” His eyes locked onto yours, his tone becoming serious. “I want you.”

Your heart nearly stopped in your chest. You had no idea what to say. Logan had been flirting with you—Logan, the gruff, no-nonsense guy you’d come to admire over the past year—and you’d been completely clueless. How could someone like him, someone who seemed so out of your league, be interested in you?

“I… I don’t understand,” you mumbled, still struggling to process everything. “Why me?”

Logan sighed, as if he had been waiting for this question for months. “Because you’re brilliant, Y/N. You’ve got this fire in you, this passion for everything you do. You’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met, and you don’t let anyone push you around. And you’re so damn kind, even when you don’t have to be.” He ran a hand through his hair, as if trying to gather his thoughts. “You’ve got no idea how many times I’ve wanted to tell you, but… well, you’re not exactly the easiest person to talk to about feelings.”

You blinked. “I’m not?”

Logan smirked. “No, sweetheart, you’re not. You overthink everything. Makes it kinda hard to tell you I like you without you analyzing it to death.”

You bit your lip, feeling a mix of embarrassment and disbelief. “I’m sorry,” you muttered, not really knowing what else to say. “I just didn’t think you… I didn’t think anyone would… you know.”

Logan stepped even closer, so close that you had to sit on the edge of your desk. “Well, I do,” he said, his voice low. “And I’ve been waitin’ for you to figure it out.”

You stared up at him, your mind still reeling. All this time, Logan had been flirting with you, had liked you, and you hadn’t noticed. And now, here he was, standing so close you could feel his breath on your skin, telling you exactly how he felt. It was overwhelming, to say the least.

"Logan, I…" you started, but the words got caught in your throat. You didn’t know what to say, how to respond to something like this. Part of you wanted to brush it off as some kind of misunderstanding, but the way he was looking at you, the way he had always looked at you, made it clear that this wasn’t a joke or a misunderstanding.

He really liked you.

Logan smirked at your silence, clearly amused by how flustered you were. "Speechless, huh? That’s a first," he teased, his voice low and rough in that way that made your stomach flip.

You shook your head, trying to regain some semblance of composure. "It’s just… I didn’t think you’d be interested in someone like me. You’re Logan, and I’m…" You gestured to yourself awkwardly. "Me."

Logan frowned slightly, his brows pulling together. "What the hell’s that supposed to mean?"

You shrugged in response, turning your head downward to look down at your lap. It didn’t last long, because Logan put his thumb on your chin, turning your head upright to look at him.

He noticed your expression change, you were someone who was easy to read, never really kept her emotions hidden well, or at least not to him. You went from big doe eyes and sad, pouty lips to flustered. Your eyes were curious and almost nervous and your pink lips, courtesy of the colored lip balm you always wore, were slightly parted.

Logan held your gaze, his thumb gently resting on your chin, and you couldn’t help but feel your pulse quicken under his touch. He was so close now, close enough that the musky scent of him was filling your senses, making it even harder to think clearly.

"You really think I’d waste my time on someone I didn’t want?" Logan’s voice was low, gruff, but there was a softness to it that you hadn’t heard before.

You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. The words were jumbled in your mind, and all you could focus on was the way his rough fingers were still holding your chin, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. The confidence he exuded was overwhelming. How could he be so sure, so calm, while you felt like your brain was on fire?

"Logan, I…" you trailed off, your voice barely above a whisper. The weight of his hand, the warmth of his body so close—it was too much.

He let out a soft chuckle, clearly amused by how flustered you were. "Doll, you’re overthinking again."

Your lips pressed together into a thin line as you tried to get a handle on your spiraling thoughts. "I’m just… surprised. I didn’t think…" You hesitated, the words feeling clumsy in your mouth. His thumb moved slightly up, still holding onto your chin but now brushing against your lower lip, making it more difficult to concentrate or come up with a single coherent thought.

No one had ever treated you like this, so kindly and… normally. You thought back to the only 3 dates you had ever been on during college, how none of them ever really tried to get to know you, or peel back the layers behind your smarts.

Because you weren’t just smart, you loved gardening, and baking, hell, you even liked to dress cute. And out of all the guys, Logan never treated you like someone different. It was nice to be around someone like that, who embraced who you were rather than try and get you to bury it. Maybe it was his age? You remember reading an article from a psych organization about how younger women like older men because of emotional maturity-

Rough hands cupped your face, bringing you out of your thoughts. “Hey, stop thinkin’. What the hell could you be thinkin’ about right now?”

You gave a shy smile and shook your head gently, his hands still on your face. “Nothin’,” you mumbled, your voice softer than you intended. You tried to play it off like everything was fine, but Logan wasn’t buying it.

Logan’s brow furrowed slightly, his thumb brushing your cheek now. "You’re a terrible liar, sweetheart." His voice was low, that gravelly tone sending shivers down your spine.

You swallowed, your mind still racing as you searched for the right words. "I just… I don’t get why you’d want me," you admitted, your eyes flicking away from his. "You’re this… badass, Logan. You’ve been through so much. You could have anyone."

His hands stayed where they were, his touch gentle but firm as he guided your gaze back to his. "I told you, doll. I don’t want anyone else. I want you."

You blinked up at him, still unsure of how to respond. It felt like your heart was beating out of your chest, and your mind was a mess of conflicting thoughts. On one hand, Logan was the last person you ever thought would have feelings for you. On the other hand, here he was, being painfully honest, and you couldn’t deny the sincerity in his voice.

"I just…" you hesitated, biting your lip, "I don’t know how to do this, Logan. I’m not… I’ve never been good at… people. Relationships. I mean, I’m good at math, science, and solving problems but not—this."

Logan chuckled softly, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw. "You don’t gotta be good at it, Y/N. You just gotta be you." His voice softened, the teasing tone dropping away as he said, "That’s all I’ve ever wanted."

Your breath caught in your throat. He made it sound so simple, like it wasn’t a big deal. But it was a big deal to you. You hadn’t dated much—hardly at all, if you were being honest. Relationships felt like another complex equation you couldn’t quite solve.

"Logan, I…" you started, but he cut you off, his hands dropping from your face to settle on your hips, pulling you just a little closer.

"You overthinkin’ again?" Logan smirked, one eyebrow raised.

You couldn’t help but smile at that. "Maybe a little," you admitted, your voice quiet. It was hard to concentrate when he was so close, his hands resting on your hips like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"That’s what I thought," Logan muttered, leaning in just enough that his forehead almost touched yours. "You don’t gotta figure everything out right now, doll. Just… let it happen."

You stared at him, your mind whirling. "Let it happen?" you echoed, trying to wrap your head around what he was saying.

"Yeah," Logan said softly, his voice rough but soothing at the same time. "Stop tryin’ to solve it like it’s some kinda problem. Just be with me."

You blinked, your heart doing that weird fluttering thing again. Be with him? It sounded so simple when he said it like that. But you couldn’t help the flood of doubt that kept creeping into your mind. What if you screwed it up? What if you weren’t good enough at this? What if—

Logan’s hands tightened slightly on your hips, and he pulled you closer, cutting off your spiraling thoughts. "Y/N, you’re doin’ it again," he murmured, his voice a soft rumble in the space between you. "You’re thinkin’ too much."

You sighed, biting your lip again. "I can’t help it," you muttered, feeling a little embarrassed. "That’s just how my brain works."

Logan chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "I know, darlin’. But you don’t gotta do that with me."

His words hung in the air, and you found yourself staring at him, completely unsure of what to say next. No one had ever spoken to you like this before. No one had ever made you feel like it was okay to just… be. You were always the smartest person in the room, always expected to have the answers, to be the one in control. But with Logan, it felt different. He didn’t expect you to be anything but yourself.

"I…" You trailed off, your throat tightening. "I don’t know how to not overthink things."

Logan’s smirk softened, and he tilted his head slightly, his eyes warm as they met yours. "Then I’ll just have to distract you, won’t I?"

Before you could even process what he was saying, he leaned in, his lips brushing yours in the softest, most unexpected kiss. It was like everything around you froze for a moment, your brain short-circuiting as you tried to catch up with what was happening.

Logan was kissing you.

Logan.

Was kissing.

You.

Your hands moved instinctively to his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt as you kissed him back. It wasn’t what you expected—nothing in your life had ever felt like this. The warmth, the softness of his lips against yours, the way he held you like you were something precious… it was overwhelming in the best possible way.

If you would’ve told your past self from five years ago, hell, even two months ago, that your first kiss would be with the Wolverine, you would’ve thought it was some grand, cosmic joke. But there you were, hands fisting into Logan’s shirt, his lips gently pressing against yours like this was the most natural thing in the world.

It wasn’t how you’d imagined your first kiss would go. Not that you’d spent a lot of time imagining it—honestly, you’d been too busy with equations, papers, and research to even consider the prospect of someone being interested in you. But if you had pictured it, this wouldn’t have been it. Not with a man like Logan.

His rough hands held you in place, strong but careful, as if he was hyper-aware of how delicate you felt in his grasp. You, who could bend nature to your will, whose intelligence far surpassed anyone’s expectations, felt completely and utterly vulnerable in his arms.

When he pulled back, it wasn’t by much. His forehead rested against yours, his breath warm and slightly uneven. Logan’s lips curved into a smirk, one you could practically feel against your skin.

“Well,” he drawled, voice low and teasing, “that didn’t seem too bad, did it?”

You blinked up at him, still trying to recover from the shock. “I… I don’t—what just happened?”

Logan chuckled softly, his thumbs brushing small circles into your hips, keeping you grounded when your thoughts were spinning out of control. “I just kissed ya, sweetheart. And unless I’m readin’ the situation wrong, you didn’t mind too much.”

Your mind raced, heart hammering in your chest. “No, I—” You paused, biting your lip as you tried to form a coherent thought. “I didn’t mind. It’s just—”

“Just what?” Logan’s voice softened, his expression growing more serious as he studied your face.

“I wasn’t expecting it.” You swallowed, looking away from him for a moment before forcing yourself to meet his eyes again. “I didn’t think someone like you… I mean, I didn’t think you would- I didn’t think anyone would- ”

Logan raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to finish, but when you didn’t, he took a step closer. His hand was still resting on your hip, keeping you anchored to him, and the heat of his body was impossible to ignore. “Didn’t think what, sweetheart?”

You swallowed, feeling the weight of his question press down on you. It was like all the words in your head had turned to static, and you couldn’t figure out how to string a coherent sentence together. "I just… I don’t know," you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s lips quirked into a small, teasing smile, but his eyes stayed serious. "You don’t know, or you don’t wanna say?"

You bit your lip, your mind still reeling from the kiss. The memory of it—soft, unexpected, but not unwelcome—was playing on a loop in your head. You hadn’t been kissed much, if at all, and the idea that Logan was the one to give you your first real kiss was still something you were trying to process.

But you couldn’t lie, it was nice. You were 25, just had your first kiss, and suddenly you felt like a teenager in a Disney movie.

A grin slipped past your lips. "I just wasn’t expecting you to kiss me, old man," you finally replied, your voice teasing but soft.

Logan’s eyebrows raised, and a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Old man, huh?" he murmured, his voice dipping into that gravelly tone that always made you feel a bit flustered. "Pretty sure that kiss just proved I’ve still got it."

You laughed softly, your hands still fisted in his shirt, though he didn’t seem to mind at all. Logan’s smirk widened at the sound of your laughter, and you could feel the tension in the air start to ease, just a little.

"Yeah, maybe you do," you replied, your voice soft but teasing as you looked up at him, your heart still beating a little too fast from the kiss. "Guess you're not as rusty as I thought."

Logan raised an eyebrow, his smirk never faltering. "Rusty?" he repeated, his voice low and playful, with that gravelly edge that made your stomach flip every time. "You seriously thought I was rusty, sweetheart?"

You shrugged, trying to maintain some semblance of composure despite how close he was and how easily he seemed to get under your skin. "I don’t know. I mean, you’re a couple of hundred years old. Thought you might’ve lost your touch."

Logan chuckled, the sound deep and rumbling in his chest as he leaned in just a little closer. "Oh, darlin'," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper, "I ain't lost a damn thing."

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a second, you couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Logan’s confidence was overwhelming, but it wasn’t just that—there was a tenderness in the way he looked at you, a softness in his touch that made your chest feel tight.

"Okay, okay," you finally muttered, your voice barely above a whisper as you tried to deflect some of the attention. "Point taken."

Logan grinned, clearly enjoying how flustered you were. "Good," he said simply, his thumbs brushing lightly over your hips where his hands still rested. "’Cause I don’t wanna hear any more about me bein’ rusty or old. Got it?"

You nodded, biting your lip as you tried not to smile too much. "Got it."

chapter 3 of Sweet Dreams will be up tomorrow!

[eclipseslayer]

SIT. DRINK.

➭ TOJI FUSHIGURO X F!READER SMUT ONESHOT

➭ SUMMARY: Your dad calls you over to sit in front of him, and he orders you to finish off his beer. Enthused with your obedience, he takes advantage of that.

➭ CW: DARK CONTENT. Incest, forced drinking, cockwarming, deep throating, Toji is meanish, Toji calls you 'kid' and 'sweetheart'.

➭ WC: 1.5kish

➭ A/N: Hello! I've done a drabble with icky!dad!Toji before, and honestly I really like doing them... so I'm wondering if I should make a series/compilation or something with icky!dad!Toji?? 👀 lmk in the comments or my ask box!! :) N e wayz enjoyyy.

"Come 'ere. Sit."

Toji points at the floor in front of him with his beer bottle, and you look up from your book you're reading.

Your eyes widen and you swallow thickly, knowing your dad wants something. It always puts a little fear in you, because your dad is disgusting. He's a grumpy, divorced, old man who got stuck with some kid out of wedlock, who happened to be you, so now he treats you like some sort of object, something to be used.

As much as you loathe him for it, a part of you actually loves it, though you don't think you'd ever admit that to yourself, at least, not out loud.

You close your book, and you get up. You slowly walk over to him, carpet brushing against the soles of your feet as you drag them, trying to take your time as you walk over to the old man.

Toji sees you taking your sweet time and he scoffs. He points to the floor again, and his beer sloshes in his bottle.

"I said, sit," his tone is harsher this time, almost spitting out his words.

With a huff, you nod and you pick up your pace. You then plop yourself onto your knees in front of your dad, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow, already knowing what he wants.

He leans back against the couch to get a good view of you. A wry grin appears etched onto his face as that scar of his quirks up, and those green eyes of his darken while a drunken gaze drinks in the sight of you.

His gaze makes you nervous, as you hardly ever know what he wants from you. You know you're here to be used, but you just don't know how, and that's what makes you so nervous. His jade eyes always make your heart thump in your chest as they always have something conniving cooking.

Suddenly, he thrusts his bottle out to you and he presses the glass opening of it against your lips. You blink quickly as you catch a quick whiff of the beer—cheap, and wheaty—and look back up at him.

"Drink. Finish this off for me."

"I—" You're about to try to defend yourself, as you're not looking to drink tonight, but your dad tuts, shaking his head disapprovingly. He reaches out and grips the root of your hair with his free hand and pushes your mouth against the tip of the glass bottle, forcing it into your mouth.

"I said, drink. Jesus, are you having a hard time hearing me tonight?" He mutters, and his words slur, clearly drunk.

You let out a whine and a grumble and you tilt your head back, allowing for the liquid to pour into your throat. There's about a half of the bottle left, so Toji makes you chug it, and he watches with narrowed as eyes as you drink.

"There we go... good girl..."

Fuck. You hated it when he praised you. He only praised you whenever you did his "evil" bidding, which is why you didn't mind doing it so much. You loved the praise, and he knew it, which is why you're so obedient to him. It's a constant cycle of you needing praise, and receiving it after you do something for him, and, you couldn't get enough. Sometimes, some of the things he made you do felt so good that you truly hadn't minded at all.

It was toxic, but... you honestly couldn't get enough of it, which is also why you hadn't moved out of the house yet.

His praise was addicting.

Once you finish the beer, your mouth leaves the bottle with a satisfying pop, and Toji hums. He runs a hand through your hair and sighs as he places the empty bottle with the rest of them, on the stand next to the couch.

He pats your face with a large, calloused hand and sighs, leaning against the couch again. His large frame takes up the majority of it, and his thick long legs are spread out in a man-spread.

He reaches down into his pants and you hear the faint sound of scratching. He yawns, looking at the TV briefly before turning his head back to you. You look at him, awaiting further instructions, and he chuckles, and you assume another idea has popped into his head.

"You got an oral fixation, right, sweetheart?" He slurs, and, honestly doesn't care if you do or not as he starts pulling down his sweatpants, the hem of them fits around his thighs so well.

"I... yes, I do," you reply, watching him as he now takes his hand and slides down his underwear around his thighs, as he reveals his, big, hard cock, sitting heavily on his stomach.

Toji raises an eyebrow and he hiccups. He nods and sighs. "That's right... I knew ya did, kid. I know you like suckin' on my dick, but you just don't wanna admit it, right?" He grins, and he watches as you shift on your knees, your gaze averting his. His grin widens.

"Ah, knew it," he sighs, and he leans forward with his cock in one hand, and presses the tip against your mouth, and, so willingly, you open it up for him, accepting him into your mouth.

He groans once he feels your warm, wet mouth, and he closes his eyes, leaning his head back. He takes a minute before he looks down at you.

"Just keep your mouth like this for me while I watch TV. I'll get you a fuckin' candy bar or somethin' if you suck me off," he chuckles, and you furrow your eyebrows because he still treats you like a little kid, rewarding you with dumb shit.

Nevertheless, you sigh, accepting this as you keep him in your mouth. Not like you're going to complain anyway. This was one of your favorite things to do for your dad, simply because it just felt so good to have something so thick fill up your mouth.

So, you sit for awhile as he leans back against the couch, watching TV. You don't move your mouth—just enjoying how good he feels—for about ten minutes until you feel your jaw start to hurt.

That's when you start moving your head, pushing your mouth all the way to his pelvis, and then pulling back until you're suckling on his tip.

Toji groans at this and turns his head back to you. He sighs, and he grips your hair, and begins guiding your wet mouth along his cock.

He revels in the feeling of your mouth, enjoying how tight and warm it gets when you hallow your cheeks, and when you do that little thing with your tongue.

His head leans back, looking down at you as he admires how good you look, sucking on his cock. Sure, it was wrong, but that was why he drank, to get the mental block out of his head so he could easily get his dick wet. You were never one to say no. Hell, he wasn't sure why you were so easy, but he wasn't going to knock the opportunity.

You, on the other hand, are having such a good time as you moan softly on his cock, loving the feeling of how good he feels in your mouth. He feels so good that you're drooling on his cock, making a mess of it all over his length. You soon add your hand to the mix, pumping the length of his shaft while your mouth drools all over the tip, licking and sucking so fervently that it has Toji cursing under his breath.

"Shit, kid, fuck, your mouth does such a good job..." He groans and a big hand grips your hair tightly once more, guiding you along his cock, except, he decides to cruelly change the pace up, making it so his cock hits the back of your throat.

You let out a gag in surprise, your eyes widening and your hands quickly move to grip his thighs. His thick cock bullies into the back of your throat as you let out choked moans.

Saliva coats his dick, and drips down to his balls as you're uncontrollably salivating all over him, simply because that big tip of his bruises the back of your throat, allowing for no control over your mouth.

He groans with almost every thrust, and his breath gets heavy. He chuckles as he sees you struggle to take him, your hands gripping his thighs so tightly that he finds it so hilarious as he lets out yet another mean chuckle.

"That's right... gonna cum in this mouth, yeah? How's that for ya?" He grins wickedly, and, with one, two, three more thrusts, he slams your nose against his pelvis, leaving you choking on his dick as his cum suddenly spurts into your mouth. Load after load fills your throat, and you swallow it quickly.

Your nose scrunches up at the taste, as it damn near tastes like battery acid from the amount of beer he just had. You want to choke it up, but you know better, and so you swallow each spurt of cum until he rips his cock out of your throat.

He watches with a satisfied gaze as you choke for air, leaning over his thighs.

"Good girl." He reaches down into his pants pocket and fishes out a couple yen bills. "Go buy a candy bar at the corner store or somethin'. I don't fuckin' know."

[brunchable]

Super Uncle Bucky || Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Pairings: Uncle Bucky Barnes x Auntie reader.

Themes: Chaotic humor, Babysitter Bucky

Summary: Bucky, out of his element, struggles to handle three mischievous kids who put him through a chaotic tea party, leaving him covered in stickers and glitter as you laugh and document his defeat.

A/N: You guys are just eating up my Bucky oneshots with kids so here's another one.

"Yup, that’s me. You’re probably wondering how I ended up in this situation. . ."

Bucky stood in the middle of the living room, his once immaculate hair now a wild mess of tangled locks. His shirt was soaked, clinging uncomfortably to his skin, while toy cars, Legos, and what appeared to be mashed-up cookie crumbs surrounded his feet. His metal arm gleamed brightly in the overhead lights, decorated with an assortment of glittery stickers — unicorns, dinosaurs, and rainbows — courtesy of the tiny hands that had attacked him earlier.

A cacophony of laughter and squeals filled the room as three tiny terrors, dressed in various superhero costumes, ran around him in circles. Bucky’s gaze shifted from one child to the next, his brow furrowed as if he was assessing a battlefield — and, honestly, this might be more dangerous than any fight he’d faced.

One of the kids, Chloe, with braids and sparkling blue eyes, clambered up onto the couch, raising her arms in victory like she’d just conquered Everest. 

“You can’t escape, Uncle Bucky!” she declared proudly, giggling uncontrollably as Bucky tried to carefully pick his way through the minefield of toys.

Another child, Chase, with a Captain America shield as big as he was, lunged at Bucky’s leg. 

“Gotcha! You’re under arrest for being grumpy!” he shouted, his voice filled with the determination only a five-year-old could muster.

Bucky sighed deeply, glancing at the living room monitor cam with a look that screamed, Send help.

— Two Hours Earlier —

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” you asked, hovering by the front door with an amused smile tugging at your lips. “I can always call Nat—”

“I’m fine,” Bucky grumbled, rolling his eyes. “I’ve faced HYDRA agents, alien invasions, and Steve’s 1940s music tastes. I think I can handle a few kids.”

“Three kids,” you corrected with a grin. “Under the age of six. And they all think you’re ‘Super Uncle Bucky.’”

He smirked, crossing his arms confidently. “Piece of cake.”

With a lingering, somewhat skeptical glance, you blew him a kiss and slipped out the door, promising to be back in a couple of hours. Bucky watched you leave, his smile fading slightly as a sudden sense of unease crept up his spine.

“They’re just kids,” he muttered to himself. “How bad can it be?”

He turned around—three sets of wide eyes stared up at him, glinting with mischief. The youngest, Charlie, barely two years old, clutched a half-eaten cookie, crumbs tumbling down his chubby cheeks.

“Are you gonna fight monsters with us, Uncle Bucky? OH! Can I make your left arm look pretty?” Chloe asked sweetly, holding up a toy sword.

Bucky blinked, glancing at the sword, the cookie, and the Captain America shield in the Chase's hands.

“Uh...”

“Roar!” Charlie suddenly screeched, charging at his leg.

“Or... tea party?” Chloe suggested, a sparkly tiara slipping over her eyes.

Bucky let out a breath. “Yeah, sure. Tea party sounds—"

Chase threw his shield at Bucky's head with surprising force. “I wanna fight!”

“Tea party!” Chloe insisted.

“Bear hug!” Charlie latched onto Bucky’s leg like a tiny Hulk.

Oh boy.

— Present —

One of the children tugged on his pants, drawing his attention. Bucky looked down to see the youngest of the group — a chubby-cheeked little boy with a tuft of dark hair and bright green eyes, holding up a stuffed bear.

“Bucky bear!” he squealed, thrusting the toy up at Bucky’s face. “Hug!”

“Right, yeah, of course,” Bucky said, gingerly accepting the plush bear and giving it an awkward pat on the head. The boy beamed up at him, seemingly satisfied with Bucky’s less-than-stellar performance.

“Uncle Bucky!” Chloe on the couch shouted, bouncing excitedly. “Can we play tea party now?”

“Uh…” Bucky hesitated, looking around the chaos of the room. “Tea party sounds…calm?”

“Yeah, yeah! But you gotta dress up!” she insisted, hopping off the couch and rummaging through a pink box that looked suspiciously like it belonged in your closet. She pulled out a lacy bonnet and shoved it in Bucky’s direction. “Put this on.”

Before Bucky could even think to protest, the other two kids joined in, eagerly shoving various frilly and sparkly accessories at him. With a resigned sigh, Bucky crouched down, letting the kids pile hats, scarves, and bracelets onto him until he looked like a very unfortunate cross between a Victorian-era duchess and a Mardi Gras parade float.

“Uncle Bucky is so pretty!” Chase declared, clapping his hands in delight.

Bucky glanced at his reflection in the living room mirror, nearly did a double-take, and then grimaced. He looked like a walking nightmare in pink.

Maybe the super-soldier serum could help me survive this, he thought wryly.

“Okay, tea party it is,” he muttered, his dignity hanging by a very thin thread.

— Thirty Minutes Later —

Bucky sat crammed into a child-sized plastic chair, his knees nearly touching his chest, as he held a tiny teacup between his fingers. The kids sat around him in a semi-circle, their eyes bright with excitement.

“Would you like some more tea, Your Highness?” Chloe asked in her best impression of a British accent.

“Yes, thank you,” Bucky said solemnly, holding out his teacup. Chase with the Captain America shield delicately poured imaginary tea from an empty plastic teapot, his face set in serious concentration.

“You know,” Bucky mused, taking a pretend sip, “you kids aren’t so bad.”

That’s when the tea toy kettle started “whistling.”

Confused, Bucky turned his head — and was promptly doused with water as one of the boys squeezed the kettle’s handle, a gleeful grin on his face.

Bucky sputtered, wiping water off his face, and the room fell silent. Three pairs of wide, innocent eyes stared up at him, waiting to see how he would react.

A slow smile spread across his face.

“Oh, you little punks are so going down.”

What followed was a blur of tickle attacks, high-pitched giggles, and Bucky chasing the kids around the room with his “super-speed” (read: exaggerated slow-motion running while the kids darted around him like over-caffeinated squirrels). By the time you returned, Bucky was pinned to the ground by three wriggling bodies, all of them shrieking with laughter.

You leaned against the doorway, raising an eyebrow, trying — and failing — to suppress a grin. “Having fun?”

Bucky looked up at you, his hair sticking up in wild tufts, his face smeared with cookie crumbs, his shirt a sticky mess of juice stains, and his metal arm glinting with a rainbow of unicorn stickers. To top it all off, a frilly pink bonnet sat crookedly on his head, held in place by a giant bow under his chin.

“Oh, you know,” he drawled, deadpan. “Just living the dream.”

You snorted, eyes gleaming with mischief. “You look like you’ve been to war.”

“Worse.” He held up his hands in mock surrender, showing off chipped, glittery nail polish on his fingers. “I’ve been to a tea party.”

You burst into laughter, doubling over as the kids cheered triumphantly. “I’m getting the camera. No way we’re not documenting this.”

“Wait, no—” Bucky tried to stand up, but a small hand grabbed his bonnet’s bow, yanking him back down with surprising force.

“No escape, Uncle Bucky!” Chloe squealed, and the other two chanted, “More tea! More tea!”

Bucky slumped in defeat, sending you a pleading look.

But you were already gone, the sound of your laughter echoing down the hall.

He sighed deeply, glancing at the trio of tiny humans who had somehow become his overlords. Chloe climbed onto his back, using him like a jungle gym. “Uncle Bucky, it’s time for the royal dance now!”

Chase picked up a feathered boa and tossed it around Bucky’s shoulders. “And you have to wear this!”

Bucky sighed, closing his eyes in resignation. “Yeah… maybe I did have it easier fighting HYDRA.”

[phantom-howl]

@a-scary-lack-of-common-sense made a Gravity Falls au (the HWINEBHABWNAJCAHOWEEATOWEUB au and yes that's the short form of the au title lol) that I really like the concept of. Hopefully I didn't break logic or anything but wrote it a small little oneshot. Enjoy ^^

Bill blinked, slightly disoriented. He always felt disoriented when someone summoned him. You would too if you ever experienced it. It's like being pulled through a vacuum, but with less wind and more spinny.

He looked around. He was in someone's shadow. No, not someone, something. The thing seemed to be the shadow of a large pine tree. While a plant's shadow wasn't the preferred option, he did rather like being a tall shadow. 

Bill looked directly beside him. One of Ford's great grand kids was there. He hadn't known them long enough to be able to tell the difference. "Dipper and Mabel are their names" he'd been reminded by Ford several times. 

This one had short hair, most of it tucked underneath a baseball cap. The child wasn't looking at Bill, but rather something in the distance. Bill could make out that it was some kind of beast with horns and a lot of hair. He looked back at the kid. 

"Hey kid, what'd you need me for?" Bill asked, watching the kid's eyes snap from the beast to him. 

"Help," the word was barely above a whisper. Fear grew in the kid's eyes as they darted between Bill and the beast. 

"I dunno what you want me to do kid. Can't exactly do a lot as a shadow," Bill shrugged. The beast approached. He saw the kid produce a pen from the jacket he was wearing. It was one of those pens he'd seen Ford using while writing his journals. Ford must've given one to the kid. 

Checking over their shoulder constantly the kid clicked the pen on and started carving directly into the tree Bill was borrowing the shadow of. Suddenly, he felt disoriented again. He gathered his barings to see the kid had carved an eye into the pine tree. 

He could also feel everything the tree felt. The fact several branches were ready to snap, that one woodpecker nest, the beehive further upwards, the snapped root several miles underground. It was overwhelming but he got adjusted fairly quickly. 

Bill looked back over at the beast, of which he got a better view of now. It looked like a minotaur. He'd seen his fair share on Earth, but he didn't know they lived this far west. No matter, it looked fairly stupid. 

He felt the kid hide behind the tree. Probably for the best. After all, if he hurt Ford's kids he'd never hear the end of it. 

The minotaur got closer and closer. Bill had a deviously gleeful look in his eye as the beast finally was within reach. With a satisfying snap, one of the branches of the tree fell off and hit the minotaur's head. It went down.

"Okay run kid," Bill said but the kid seemed frozen in place, staring at the tattooed minotaur. 

"Are you waiting for an invitation?" the kid dug out a small notebook, quickly scribbling something down with the pen, before running off. Bill didn't bother to try and figure out what that meant. The kid was probably like Ford. He seemed to share the same chaotic scientist energy, even if the kid was more subdued. 

Least now he had an experience with one of the kids kinda properly. The "Pine Tree Incident" as he decided to call it.

—

"Hey Pine Tree, other one," Bill waved to the kids through the small artist model Ford had summoned him to.

"Pine Tree?" the two asked, all three humans confused.

"I gotta have some kind of way to tell you two apart until I can remember who's who," Bill laughed. Pine Tree slapped his face with his palm and the other one laughed with Bill.

[janiehellion]

Wildflower Woes

ONESHOT

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Daryl Dixon hates you. Or does he? And do you only love the flowers that grow in your own garden, or do you love the wild ones too? Because with eyes watching in the darkness of the night, nothing is ever quite as it seems.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: S1!DARYL DIXON X FEM!READER

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: SMUT / HURT / ANGST / VOYEURISM / MASTURBATION / EXHIBITIONISM / DUB-CON / LANGUAGE / CUM PLAY / SEMI-PUBLIC

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 8.000

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇ: NON-CON ELEMENTS

MASTERLIST & REQUEST GUIDELINES

As you walked behind Daryl, your eyes drifted from the road ahead to the ground beside your feet, where something caught your eye and distracted you rather fast from everything else around you—a bunch of wildflowers that had bloomed along the side of the road. They were not only the kind you’ve always loved, but they were also a small reminder of what life really was like not so long ago.

Without a second thought, you decided to step off the path, with your fingers reaching out instinctively to touch the nearest blossom in silent admiration.

"They’re still so beautiful, despite everything," you whispered quietly to yourself, not wanting Daryl to hear what you were saying. "I remember how I always thought these were just pretty-looking weeds as a kid because Mom and Dad always had them everywhere in our garden. God, I miss them so much."

Kneeling down beside the flowers, you allowed yourself a quiet moment of peace, thinking back to a few weeks ago when everything was still normal. To those weekends gardening with your mom while your dad cut the lawn or filmed you and your mother to capture memories for the future. The time when your parents were still alive.

But that short moment of peace was quickly shattered by an all-too-familiar sound that made your heart skip a beat and sent a shiver through your body. Spinning around, your eyes locked on the rotting figure of a walker emerging from behind a tree, and panic flooded your mind.

"Shit!" You screamed, stumbling backward and falling hard onto the ground, and in your desperate attempt to avoid being bitten, you reached for your weapon, only to realize the handle was tangled with the strap of your backpack. Despair washed over you as the walker got closer, its hands reaching out to dig its fingers into your flesh.

Just then, Daryl heard your scream. He spun around, his crossbow aimed at the walker, and in the blink of an eye, the creature dropped dead at your feet with a bolt in its head.

"What in the hell were ya doin'?" Daryl shouted, his face full of anger as he rushed over.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you stumbled to your feet, your voice trembling. "I… I just noticed the flowers! I’ve always liked flowers and these—"

"Flowers? Ya nearly got yerself killed over some damn flowers?" His eyes narrowed in frustration.

Daryl’s voice was bitter, full of anger, as he grabbed your arm and pulled you roughly back onto the road. Before you could react, he stomped his boot into the patch of flowers, grinding them into the dirt in front of your eyes.

"Can't believe ya'd risk yer life for this bullshit!" He said, as he pulled his bolt out of the walker and walked back to you again.

His grip on your arm tightened, and he yanked you forward. "Look at ya," he growled, full of disgust. "Ya think this is some kinda shitty garden party? We're fightin' to survive, and yer out here actin' like a pussy over a bunch of fuckin' flowers! ‘S that what's gonna save us? A fuckin' bouquet?"

His words made you flinch, and you were unable to hold back the tears that had already formed in your eyes. When you looked back up, Daryl's face was only inches from yours.

"Oh, look at ya, so delicate and pure!" He taunted with disdain. "Yeah… Ya gonna stop this shitshow with a bouquet, huh? Gonna wave 'em around and make all the walkers bow down to yer flowery grace? What’s next, princess? A fuckin’ garden gnome to guard the damn camp?"

You tried to steady your voice, fighting back your sobs. "Listen, Daryl… Thank you for saving me, really! But I didn’t mean to cause you any trouble! I just... I just wanted a moment of beauty that reminded me of—"

"A moment of beauty? Ya think yer gonna find some happy endin' in the middle of all this shit? It's like yer livin' in a fuckin' fantasy! Newsflash: This ain’t a damn fairy tale!" Daryl cut you off with a mocking laugh.

He stepped closer, invading your personal space. "Oh, I see. Ya got this big-ass plan, don't ya? Ya gonna sprinkle some petals ‘round and charm all the dead assholes with yer pretty flowers, huh? Hell, why not add a unicorn that shits glitter while yer at it?"

You opened your mouth to protest, but his insults didn't even give you a chance. "Oh, wait, I got it! Ya gonna build a fairyland where everything is perfect and we all live happily ever after! Ya gonna knit a quilt with flowers on it, and everyone will forget 'bout the damn world fallin' apart! That’s yer big-ass plan, ain't it?"

Listening to him, you struggled more and more to hold back your sobs, but you finally found the confidence to respond. "That's not true! And I didn’t say that. I just thought—"

"Thought what?" Daryl interrupted again, his voice almost yelling in anger. "Ya think that’s gonna change anything? Get real! Out here, ya don't get to have yer shitty moments of peace. Ya either get yer head outta yer ass or ya die!"

He shook his head, scoffing at you. "Tell me! What’s next, huh? Ya gonna start singin' lullabies to the walkers? Maybe ya should bake ‘em some cookies and ask ‘em to join the damn camp," he spat out, finally turning away and leaving you standing in the middle of the road, knowing that you’d follow him one way or another.

And you did.

Aside from Daryl's few mutterings of frustration, the walk back to the camp was quiet. He didn’t offer you an apology, nor did he ask why you seemed so fascinated by those wildflowers in the first place. Instead, he simply continued to walk ahead, throwing you angry sidelong glances from time to time, while his annoyed curses and angry mumblings barely reached your ears anymore.

You allowed the minutes to pass, and just as you were beginning to accept being his supply run partner a little bit more, Daryl's voice was heard again. "Quit yer damn whinin'! Pretty flowers ain't gonna keep ya alive!" he said, his anger not yet gone. "All this fuckin' bullshit just makes ya look weak! Ain't nobody got time for that. Ya gotta get that into yer head!"

He looked ahead, and with a sudden, quick move, he lifted his boot and stomped down on another few wildflowers growing along the side of the road. Your jaw dropped in disbelief, and your eyes widened in shock and hurt. The purpose behind it—to obviously hurt you—only made you clench your fists tighter, your nails digging into your palms.

But you stayed silent; the last thing you wanted was to give him any more reason to bully you and to fuel his anger. Instead, you focused on keeping your breathing steady, swallowing down the lump in your throat as you continued to follow behind him.

As you both finally approached the quarry, Daryl’s anger reached its breaking point, and in a rather sudden decision, he stormed off the path, disappearing into the woods without another word and taking the rest of the supplies with him.

"Yeah, yeah, run away, you fucking dickhead," you whispered to yourself before putting the backpack down next to the RV. "What a damn idiot! Just because he’s got a stick up his ass doesn’t mean he is allowed to shit on everything that others care about. He thinks he’s so tough, but he’s just an asshole who’s always acting like he’s the only one who matters around here! And here I was, thinking I might actually like him and have a soft spot for him. Guess I was just kidding myself. What a fucking joke!" You continued and let the sadness come out quietly as you were left standing alone.

"Can’t believe he thinks this is some kind of, I don't know, redneck survival training. ‘Oh, look at me, I’m so tough! I’ll just destroy whatever makes you happy!’ Well, newsflash to you too, Dixon: You’re not the only one who’s capable of surviving! Jesus…"

The sudden sound of footsteps approaching stopped your rant, and you turned to see Dale walking towards you with a look of concern. "Hey there," he said with a smile, taking the backpack into his hands. "You look like you’ve had a rough time out there today. Is everything okay? Where’s Daryl Dixon?"

You hesitated for a moment, the situation that has happened before making it hard for you to find the right words. Finally, you sighed and responded.

"I couldn’t give less of a fuck where that man is right now! I mean, listen, Daryl’s been—well, he’s been a jerk, like always. He got mad about a few pretty flowers that I found. You know, the wild ones that I showed you the other day when you were talking with Shane? Well, Daryl ended up stomping all over them because he had to save me from a walker, since the flowers distracted me and nearly got me killed. And now he’s just gone off into the woods without a word. He even took the rest of the supplies we’ve found with him. Can you believe that, Dale?"

"Oh, yes, I do remember the flowers; very nice to look at. My wife would’ve loved them as well, believe me," Dale’s eyes studied you as he listened to you, trying to understand what had happened, "but I’m sorry to hear about what has happened. Sure, Daryl’s got a lot of—let’s call it rough and tough edges. But I’m sure he’ll be back soon with the supplies; don’t you worry about that."

His words and warm smile helped to calm you down a little. "Yeah, I guess you’re right," you sighed, feeling a little better. "Thanks, Dale. I just needed to let off some steam. And maybe Daryl's right, some of those flowers weren’t meant to survive this cruel world…"

Dale nodded once more but looked slightly concerned because of your answer, though he decided not to address it, nor did he press any further. "Anytime. Now, let’s get these supplies sorted. I bet that Daryl will calm down soon enough as well."

You couldn't help but laugh at the thought. "Yeah, maybe. And pigs might fly too."

Soon enough, you were busy sorting the supplies when you heard footsteps approaching again. This time, it was Daryl who did come back from the woods, but his face showed that he was still annoyed.

"Here," he snapped, tossing his bag of supplies onto the ground. "Forgot to leave 'em here. Don’t expect any flowers or fairy dust."

You looked up from the supplies, sighing loudly. "Yeah, thanks," you answered quietly, trying to keep your voice steady. "I guess it’s good you’re back. The camp needs those supplies."

Daryl’s eyes narrowed, and he crossed his arms over his chest. "Ya know, if ya spent less time daydreamin' and more time focusin' on what’s important, then we wouldn’t have to deal with this shit."

"Is that so?" You shot back, struggling to stay calm. "And what exactly is ‘important’ to you, Daryl? Destroying everything that reminds people of normalcy?"

He snorted at you. "Normalcy? Ain’t no such thing in this world no more. If ya can’t handle that, maybe ya should stay behind."

His words hurt, but you forced yourself not to fuel his anger. "Well, maybe if you weren’t so hell-bent on destroying everything that might still matter to others, you’d see that sometimes people need a bit of hope, however small."

Daryl stared you down. "Hope? Hope won’t keep ya alive. Only havin' a pair of balls and havin’ a clear head will do that. And from where I stand, ya got none of that."

"I guess we’ve all got our own way of coping with this new world," you said quietly, not really knowing what to answer him anymore. 

His eyes studied you. "Copin'? Ya think I’m just ‘copin'’ here? I’m tryna keep us alive, and all ya do is mess 'round with flowers like it’s some kind of goddamn gardenin' hobby."

You took a deep breath. "I’m just trying to hold on to a bit of what makes me human. I know it might seem pointless to you at the moment, but those flowers... they remind me of something good, something that I miss."

Daryl scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Well, good for ya. Maybe ya can save the world with yer damn flowers, while the rest of us are riskin' our asses."

Before you could respond, Andrea approached you, having overheard the conversation. "Hey, is everything alright?" She asked, her eyes looking from you to Daryl.

"Just a little disagreement," you answered, forcing a smile. "Nothing we can’t handle."

Daryl took a step back and shook his head. "Yeah, well, I’m done wastin' my time here. Gonna get some rest."

As he walked away, Andrea rolled her eyes and turned to you with a smile. "Don’t let him get to you. He's an asshole. But you’re doing the right thing by holding on to what makes you feel human. You’ll get used to him eventually."

Later that evening, as the campfire was burning down slowly and the rest of the group went to go to sleep after their meal, you sat quietly on the side, lost in your thoughts. Daryl had withdrawn from the group, sitting alone by a tree as he stared into the flames from afar. Eventually, you stood up and walked off to your tent, but the next morning, a flower appeared by the entrance, carefully placed where it was visible but not too obvious.

"Is he for real?" You said to yourself, not really sure why he'd even continue to make fun of you like this in the first place.

While you were helping with camp chores a short time later, you spotted Jacqui kneeling by the water, washing the clothes. Taking the chance to get some answers, you approached her.

"Hey, Jacqui," you began, trying to sound neutral. "I found this wildflower in front of my tent. Any idea who might be leaving them? I don't know if Andrea told you, but I had a problem with Daryl yesterday, and I thought he left the flower there just to keep on making fun of me."

"Of course Andrea told me, how come you think she wouldn’t? You can’t keep secrets around here!" Jacqui looked up, laughing out loud. "But come on, are you for real? You think it was Daryl Dixon? Really? Come on, that's too funny."

You blinked, taken aback by her reaction. "Wait, you think it’s funny that I’m even considering Daryl after him acting like a total dickhead? I just thought—"

Jacqui laughed again, shaking her head. "Oh, come on. Daryl? Why should he continue to make fun of you like that? I mean, I wouldn’t put it past him to throw a beer can at your head, or leave a skinned squirrel in front of your tent or even under your pillow, but flowers? You're overthinking things. Honestly, I'd bet it's Shane."

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks. "Shane? Seriously? That’s what you think? But Daryl literally bullied me because of them."

Jacqui stood up, stretching her arms. "So, what? I’m just saying that sometimes it’s better not to overthink things, especially when it comes to the Dixon brothers. There's nothing that'd benefit him in mocking you any further. Anyway, I’ve got clothes to get back to." With that, Jacqui wandered off, leaving you confused and a bit embarrassed.

"Hey! It’s not like I expect him to start a flower shop anytime soon, okay? It’s just super weird!" You shouted after her, shaking your head slightly, before you caught sight of Daryl from a distance, kneeling over his crossbow. The sight of him—mumbling to himself and clearly busy with whatever he was doing—irritated you, and you decided it was time to confront him directly.

"Daryl, can we talk for a second?" You finally asked and approached him hesitantly.

He looked up, his expression unreadable. "Whaddaya want, woman?"

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady despite the frustration you felt about him still being angry with you. "I found this flower this morning. Right by my tent."

"Yeah? And what’s that gotta do with me?" Daryl’s eyes narrowed, his tone defensive.

"I just thought that maybe you’d know something about it. I mean, I didn’t think it was a coincidence, since the flower is like the same from—" You started, but he didn't let you finish.

"Hell, I dunno nothin’ ‘bout those damn flowers. Ya think I’m runnin’ ‘round playin’ flower fairy for ya now or what? It wasn't me. Keep dreamin'," Daryl cut you off, his jaw tightening. 

His voice was harsh, his tone dismissive. "Just stop pissin’ me off; yer just lookin’ too much into shit. It’s just flowers. Quit tryna make somethin’ outta nothin’."

Your frustration was growing, and you took a step closer. "I’m just trying to understand. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to understand something. Look, it doesn’t make sense for this flower to just—"

Before you could finish, Daryl cut you off again. "Hell, just drop it! Got enough problems without ya comin’ at me with this bullshit. Ain’t in the mood for yer crap no more."

Just then, Shane appeared with a wide smile on his face. "Hey there," he said, leaning against a nearby tree. "I couldn’t help but notice you looking a bit stressed. You up for some fishing? Could use some company, if you’re interested, that is."

You glanced between Shane’s big smile and Daryl’s scowling face, and with a small nod, you agreed. "Yeah, that actually sounds nice. I could definitely use a break right now. And it’d be nice to eat some fish every now and then."

Shane’s smile widened. "Perfect! We’ll have a great time, I’m sure of it; even if we don’t catch anything, it’ll still be fun. I’ll go get everything ready and come back to get you when I’m done."

"Why don’t ya both just try to drown while fishin’ then? I’m sure ya’d both do a great job at it," Daryl suddenly mumbled, turning back to his bag.

"Excuse me? What was that? What did you just say?" You asked, trying to keep your voice calm, but your confusion was obvious as you watched Shane walk away. "And what the hell are you even doing there in the first place, Daryl?"

"None of yer damn business," he snapped back at you with annoyance. "Maybe ya should spend less time bein’ a pain in the ass and more time doin’ somethin’ useful. Like catchin’ more than just one damn pitiful fish with that Romeo ya got over there."

You shook your head, feeling your frustration boil over. "You think you’re the only one who cares about survival? We’re all trying to get by, Daryl. But as a team! Together, as a group of survivors! And you? You’re just being an asshole."

Daryl’s gaze hardened. "Oh, that so? And what’s yer excuse for bein’ a pathetic, whiny mess? Thinkin’ yer entitled to shit? Get over yerself."

Before you could respond, Shane reappeared with some of the fishing gear. He then noticed Daryl’s bag next to his crossbow and raised an eyebrow. "Thistles? What the hell are you gonna do with thistles, Dixon? Prick us to death?"

"Guess we’ll be havin’ a fancy-ass thistle salad for dinner. Real gourmet shit," Daryl answered sarcastically. "Ya can eat parts of 'em, if ya so keen on knowin', but I bet ya knew that already, ain’t that so officer fancy-pants?"

Shane’s face turned serious as he glanced between you and Daryl. "Dixon, you got a problem with something? ‘Cause you’re acting like a real jackass for no goddamn reason at all!"

Daryl turned back to his bag. "Nah, just tired of watchin’ ya’ll pretend to be so high and mighty. Don’t need no charity fishin’ trip from ya, Shane."

Shane’s jaw clenched slightly, but he tried to sound calm. "Funny, Daryl, really funny. Maybe you should take a look at yourself before you start a fight you can’t win."

Daryl’s expression grew darker. "Ain’t here to be ya damn buddy, Walsh. Got my own shit to deal with, so why don’t ya just keep yer damn opinions to yerself?"

"Alright, alright. You do you, Dixon," Shane answered, taking a deep breath and forcing a smile as he looked at you again. "Come on, let's go fishing then; I’ll ask Jim to be on the lookout in the meantime."

You watched Shane walk away, then turned back to Daryl, who was now looking at the thistles in his bag.

"Great, really great. That went well," you sighed, shaking your head, but Daryl didn’t respond and instead continued to fumble with the thistles. You soon walked away, joining Shane by the water. 

"Let’s get this set up," he said, handing you a fishing rod. "We might as well make the best of it."

As the time went by, the conversation drifted to other topics. Shane talked about his past life, even sharing police stories that made you smile despite yourself.

"Thanks for this," you soon said. "It’s nice to get away from the group a little, even if it isn’t far, and just... be."

Shane nodded, focusing on his line. "Yeah, I figured you could use a break. Daryl’s got a way of being a pain in the ass."

"I guess that’s one way to put it," you laughed back. “But he isn’t the only one around who isn’t very great to get along with. The real pain in the ass around here is Ed, and that’s a fact.”

“Ed, yeah, don’t remind me. But you do realize that talking about Ed would be a pain in the ass just as much, don’t you think?” He smirked, casting his line again. "But speaking of Dixon, you know, it’s actually funny. Because I’ve seen that asshole sneaking around your tent more than once. Creepy as hell if you ask me."

You blinked at him in surprise. "Wait, wait, wait... What are you talking about? What do you mean? Daryl Dixon? What? When?"

Shane shrugged casually. "Well, I’ve already seen him lurking around your tent when you first got here weeks ago, like he’s some kind of damn stalker. Even seen him hide behind some of the cars at night. Also quite funny, because Jim was the one who caught him near the RV first, since he’s more or less the mechanic around here. Did you know that being an auto mechanic was Jim’s job? Who would’ve guessed?"

You frowned at him, processing this new information. "Shane, could you please stop trying to change the damn topic for a moment? This isn’t about Jim right now! Just tell me if you’re serious about Daryl sneaking around my tent!"

"Relax, relax! But yeah," Shane laughed and shook his head. "I mean, Daryl’s always been a bit of a freak, but that... that was something else. Fucking creep."

You bit your lip, feeling confused. "I don’t know, Shane. I mean, sure, he’s rough around the edges, like Dale pointed out before too, but..."

"But? But what?" Shane asked, raising an eyebrow. 

You hesitated, then sighed. "It’s a little stupid, okay? But when I first got here, I kind of had a fleeting thing for him. But not for long; I mean, I didn’t know anybody around here; you were all just strangers, so of course I didn’t know what he’s actually like."

Shane’s face quickly showed disbelief and a bit of anger. "You’re shitting me, right? That piece of shit who literally told us to drown? You had a crush on him?"

You shook your head, feeling quite embarrassed. "No, listen, it wasn’t exactly a crush! Please, don't call it a crush, okay? I simply thought there was more to him, you know? Maybe under all that anger, there’s someone who… cares."

Shane shook his head, his jaw clenched so tight that you could see his muscles twitch while he was gritting his teeth. "You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. That hillbilly dipshit? He doesn’t care about anyone but himself, just like his brother Merle. And now he’s got you thinking he’s some kind of misunderstood hero? That piece of shit couldn’t even fit into the anti-hero category if he wanted to! I already told Lori and Carol to keep Carl and Sophia away from him and his brother! Because they’re both a bad influence!"

"It’s not like that, Shane! I know he’s very difficult, but..." You started, but he cut you off once more.

"But nothing!" Shane snapped. "God, you sound just like Dale! Please now, just listen to me. You deserve better than that. Someone who actually gives a damn about you. Not some freaking weirdo who creeps around your tent at night. I know that I should’ve told you sooner, and I’m sorry. But you think Daryl’s going to change just because Merle’s probably dead? Nah. He’s just going to keep treating you and all of us like shit. But I’m here, and I actually care about you and the rest of us. And I did care right from the start."

You shook your head, feeling overwhelmed by his words. "Shane, please, this really is turning into an awkward conversation right now. I just need some time to think and not a motivational coach with a shotgun and a fishing rod."

"Fine. But just remember what I said. Daryl’s not the guy you think he is." He leaned back, crossing his arms. "And you know what? The two of you are a perfect pair of fuckin’ clichés. The tough redneck guy and the naive dreamer princess. It’s pathetic."

You hesitated, unsure of how to continue the conversation. "Okay, okay, I got it! Stop! I meant to ask you a different question anyway! About a flower I found by my tent. Did you leave it there for me?"

Shane shook his head. "Me? Leaving you a flower? No. Don’t have time for that. I have to keep this group safe, after all."

You sighed, feeling a bit of relief. "I know, I know, it's just that... Jacqui thought it might've been you. Guess she was wrong."

Shane shrugged nonchalantly, not wanting to talk any further. "Yeah, well, let’s just finish up here and head back."

A short time later, you and Shane packed up your gear and headed back to the camp, where the rest of the group, apart from Daryl, was already sitting around the campfire and talking. about the usual things, all the while you couldn’t stop thinking about what Shane had told you as you stared into the fire.

And as the night finally fell over the Atlanta camp, Daryl found himself in the shadows and lost in thought. He had withdrawn from the group throughout the rest of the day, thinking about how Shane and your fishing trip had annoyed him and left him feeling more than just pissed.

He moved quietly through the trees, his steps almost making little to no sound while his mind was full of conflicting thoughts, each one more chaotic than the last. He was still angry with himself over everything that had happened—his rage towards you, Shane’s arrogant attitude, and his own pushed-away emotions that he couldn't really ignore.

Standing by the edge of your tent, he looked around to make sure he was alone and out of sight before he crouched down, pulling out a small bundle from his pocket—another wildflower, the exact kind that you liked so much.

"Fuckin' ridiculous," he mumbled to himself and snorted. "Here I am, sneakin' 'round like some kind of goddamn lunatic."

He put it gently on the ground, just near the entrance of your tent, where you had to notice it one way or another. His fingers moved along the petals of the flower as if it could somehow help him feel better with his guilt. "Goddamn it, Daryl," he whispered to himself. "Ya really fucked it all up, like ya always do. Stompin' on 'em flowers like a fuckin' idiot. What were ya even thinkin'?"

His eyes narrowed as he remembered how he had responded and how he had used his insults and rage to try to push you away. "Ya didn’t mean it," he grumbled, shaking his head. "Ya were just so pissed off. Shane’s up her ass all day, and ya had to be the one who’s had to do somethin'. Hell, she's gonna think it was him now anyway, with the way he’s been actin' 'round her, that's for damn sure."

He stood up, avoiding stepping on the flower. "But ya know what? It ain’t 'bout him. 'S 'bout yerself, ya fuckin' idiot. Ya can’t just keep watchin' her and expectin' her to see ya for the piece of shit ya really are."

He looked around when he heard a noise, seeing you coming from a distance, and quickly moved to hide behind a nearby tree. His heart was racing in his chest; adrenaline and shame were rushing through his body, but he couldn’t let you see him; he couldn’t let you know that he was here, after all.

Daryl crouched down low, pressing his back against the bark of the tree he was leaning against. "Every damn night," he whispered quietly, "watchin’ her shadow. Shit, she doesn’t know. Fuckin’ hell, if she knew... I’m a goddamn creep. But I can’t stop. I just—I need to see her. Need to know she’s there."

His eyes followed you as you got closer, but he didn’t move. He was observing you and watching to see if you would notice the flower immediately, or if you wouldn’t until the next morning.

"She’s gotta know it’s me," Daryl thought, his mind racing and his body beginning to sweat all of a sudden. "She’s suspicious already. Can’t let her know the real reason why. She’d hate me for it."

His knuckles went white as he clenched his fists tightly. "I’m a fuckin’ idiot. That’s what I am. Tryin’ to make it right with damn flowers, but I’m still the asshole who’s watchin’ her like a damn perv. She’s got no idea," he whispered to himself again. "No fuckin’ clue what’s really goin’ on. Hell, if anyone 'round here knew, they’d run me outta camp. Can’t have that. Don’t want her to know; don’t want anyone to know."

"Why’d ya let things go this far?" He continued to tell himself. "Why’d ya let yerself get so fuckin' close to her? Ya think she’s gonna understand why yer such a fuckin' creep? Fuck, think again."

As you opened your tent, Daryl's eyes were watching you with nervousness. Even though he knew it was wrong, he was unable to accept the fact that he had been watching you most of the time at night, unable to take his eyes off your tent.

"Ain't gonna make excuses," he muttered. "Been an asshole, and I know it. Been watchin' her—sometimes even more than I should. Fuckin' hate myself for it. Every damn time I see her, she reminds me that I’m a damn bastard, and I can’t stand it."

Thoughts of how he had treated you kept coming back again and again to his mind. "I act like I don’t give a shit, but I do. Hell, I care more than I wanna admit. Maybe that’s why I’ve been so goddamn hard on her. Dunno. Maybe I thought it’d keep me from feelin'... this way."

Daryl stayed right where he was, watching you leave your tent open as you eventually got inside. "Fuck," he whispered to himself. "This ain't right. She deserves better than this. Deserves someone who’s not a fuckin' creep. Can’t help it. I keep comin' back here, leavin' these stupid fuckin' flowers, hopin' she might see some part of me that’s not completely fucked up."

He sighed, feeling his thoughts pressing down on him. "Yer a mess, Dixon. And ya know it. Yer leavin' flowers to try to make up for yer own damn behavior, and it ain't ever gonna be enough."

Upon entering your tent, you did notice the flower that was lying by the entrance. In fact, the flower was too familiar, and the thought of Daryl lurking around nearby made you shiver, but you didn’t acknowledge the flower directly. Rather, you purposefully chose to ignore it because Shane's remarks regarding Daryl had made you feel a little uneasy, which you could not quite shake, but it also somehow excited you to no end.

"Alright, let’s make this good, and let’s see if he really is sneaking around here," you then murmured to yourself with a smirk on your lips as you thought about your plan. "I’m gonna give him a show he won’t forget anytime soon."

You began to undress slowly, your fingers sliding over your skin as you glanced at the open gap of the tent, a deliberate choice to keep it ajar.

"Is this what you want, Daryl?" You whispered to yourself as you pulled off your shirt and slid your jeans down. "Do you want to see me like this?"

With every piece of clothing that you let fall to the ground, the blush on your cheeks turned redder. The thought of him possibly watching you from the shadows, all hidden and quiet, made you shiver with excitement and nervousness, because of the other dangers that might be hidden in the shadows. “Don’t think about anything else right now; I’m safe. I’m safe.”

Your fingers fumbled with the hooks of your bra, and you let it fall from your shoulders before you squeezed your breasts with your hands, the feeling of your fingertips brushing over your hardening nipples making you moan. "Look at me," you murmured, "see how I’m touching myself, how I’m getting so fucking wet because of you right now."

Your hand slid down your stomach, your fingers sliding into your panties, with the wetness of your pussy making you gasp as you started to rub your clit in slow circles. "You like this, don’t you? Watching me at night, knowing I’m thinking of you?"

You soon pulled your panties down your legs and tossed them aside, showing yourself off completely before you laid down and spread your legs, giving a full view of your wet pussy. With two fingers, you traced the outer folds before slipping them inside, letting out a quiet moan. "I know you’re out there," you whispered, "watching every fucking move I make."

As you began to fuck yourself slowly, your other hand continued to pinch and tease your nipples. "I can almost feel your eyes on me," you mumbled, "watching as I fuck myself. Is it turning you on, Daryl? I bet you're already so fucking hard."

You added another finger inside, curling them slightly to stretch yourself more and tease your G-spot with each thrust. "I bet you’re dying to feel what this is like," you taunted quietly, "to be so so fucking deep inside me right here, right now."

Your fingers moved faster, your hips moving in time with the thrusts of your fingers, and you were already getting closer to the edge just by thinking about the fact that Daryl was probably watching you. "I bet you’re imagining how fucking tight I’d be around you," you moaned. "I know you’re just as fucking turned on as I am."

Among the trees, Daryl remained hidden in the shadows. His eyes were locked on you, unable to look away even as his heart pounded violently in his chest. The way your fingers moved over your breasts, the playful, almost desperate way you touched your hard nipples—it drove him wild, and the image of you parting your pussy and pushing your fingers into yourself was nearly unbearable. Every little movement you made seemed to burn itself into his mind.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," he mumbled while his gaze shifted a bit as he attempted to stand up from his position without making a sound. He forced himself to remain motionless, but his hand went almost automatically to his zipper.

The simple sight of you, all naked, completely defenseless, and so vulnerable, was making him lose his mind. He could see how your body tensed and arched with every touch, and his eyes tracked every movement of your fingers as they slid in and out of your pussy.

"Fuck, not again; why’m I doin' this?" Daryl grumbled to himself, trying to ignore the throbbing of his cock inside his pants. "This ain’t right. She’s right there, and I’m just—fuck!"

He glanced down at his own body, his cock pushing hard against his pants. It wasn't easy to ignore the pulsing need that was building up inside him—a need that seemed to only grow with every quiet moan you let out. His heart was racing, and he could feel the sweat starting to run down his forehead.

Daryl’s fingers fumbled with the zipper of his pants; he was trying to calm himself down at first, but the sight of you getting yourself off was making it nearly impossible to think straight. "Jesus fuckin' Christ," he muttered again, struggling to keep his breathing steady. "Ya can’t just give in. Not yet. Ya gotta keep control."

He watched you spread your legs wider, your fingers moving faster now, and it was all he could do to keep himself from making any noise. His eyes locked onto the way your body responded—how your hips bucked with each thrust of your fingers.

"Look at her. She’s so fuckin' beautiful," Daryl let out quietly. "So damn hot, and here I am, just watchin'. Like some sick fuckin' perv."

With a quiet, frustrated growl, he tried to regain control of himself, his hands clenching more tightly. Even though his cock was begging for attention, he was unable to let himself go.

"Keep it together, Dixon," he told himself, his voice trembling. "Yer not gonna just—give in. Not yet. Not like this. She’s... she’s right there. Goddamn it! Fuck!"

But Daryl's control was breaking fast, each breath that he took only making it harder to keep his impulses in check, and it was pushing him past the point of no return. The temptation was just too great, and he couldn't control himself any longer. His hands, which had been clenched tightly into fists, now finally moved to undo the zipper of his pants.

His cock sprang free, the sight of it being so hard making him shudder, and the moment his hand wrapped around it, he let out a quiet groan.

"Goddamn it," he mumbled, his voice full of frustration and lust as he started to stroke himself slowly. "She's gonna fuckin' kill me."

He couldn’t help but imagine your hands being on him—almost in the same way that you were touching yourself. He could hear your every moan, every breath, every whimper, and it only made him grip his cock tighter, his strokes becoming faster and more needy.

"I bet ya like that, don’t ya?" He grumbled to himself. "I bet ya fuckin' know I’m here."

It was impossible for him to ignore how badly he wanted to be the one touching you, to be the one making you sigh and moan for him.

"Jesus," he panted out and gasped. "Ya just keep fuckin' doin’ that, don’t ya, princess? Fuckin' hell..."

Struggling to remain silent, his free hand felt for the tree next to him, and he pressed it against the bark to steady himself. Though he was getting close to the edge and the tip of his cock was coated with pre-cum, he was determined not to cum just yet.

"Damn it, Dixon," he hissed at himself. "Look at ya, gettin' off to this all over again. Yer a fuckin' mess. Fuckin' pathetic."

There was still a part of him that wanted to stop, and he battled the shame and guilt that was building up and rising within him. But as your moans grew slightly louder and as you suddenly whispered his name into the darkness, it only pushed him further into his own desperate need.

"Hell’s she sayin'?" Daryl mumbled to himself, his eyes narrowing as he tried to focus and concentrate on your voice. "Shit, she’s sayin' my fuckin' name..."

The sound of his name on your lips, even if it was only a silent whisper, made his cock twitch and pulse, and his strokes became more urgent with the intense need to finally cum.

"Fuckin' hell," he growled, his breathing coming out even more uneven. "She's gonna make me lose my shit. Just... just keep talkin', princess."

The way you were saying his name, the thought of you knowing he was watching, made it impossible for him to stay still. Finally, he couldn’t resist any longer. He stepped closer, his throbbing cock in hand, and let out a growl to make you notice him as he slipped inside your tent. "Ya really thought ya could just tease me like this?"

With your fingers still buried deep inside of you, your eyes snapped open. "Daryl?" Even though you knew that he was watching you, you let out a gasp, and your voice trembled slightly.

"Yeah," he said, taking another step closer. There was something else that turned him on even more than just the shock he could see in your eyes. "Thought ya could put on a private show for me, huh?"

You swallowed hard, your eyes never leaving his as he stood directly over you, his cock still hard and pulsing with every stroke of his hand. "A show?" You asked, your voice sounding a little shaky.

"Damn right. A show," he answered with a small smirk. "With me seein’ everythin'. Couldn’t stay away."

You pulled your fingers out of your pussy and tried to stand up, but Daryl pushed you back down with one of his boots on your shoulder. "Stay where ya are," he growled. "Don’t ya dare stop."

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence as you looked up at him, your heart racing. The realization about the rawness of the moment hit you, and you nodded slowly, your fingers sliding back into your pussy as you lay back down in your tent. Your eyes were locked onto his, and he could see the mixed feelings of shock, excitement, and lust in your gaze.

Daryl’s hand soon moved in rhythm with yours again, his strokes becoming faster and more urgent as he watched you. The sight of you, so shameless and wet for him, made him lose himself even more. "Ya know," he said, his voice still low and rough. "Ain't thought I’d see this day. With yer all spread out like this, knowin' I’m here, watchin' ya fuckin’ yerself. 'S a damn mindfuck."

You moaned in response, your fingers working in and out of your pussy with an increasing speed of your thrusts. "And you think you can just walk in here?" You taunted back and teased him. "You think you’re gonna get what you want, Dixon?"

Daryl’s eyes never left yours, his cock throbbing with need. "Ain't just here for the damn show," he growled. "I’m here to fuckin' claim ya. Ya got that?"

Your eyes widened, and you barely held back a loud moan, your fingers pushing deeper into your pussy. "And what makes you think I’ll just let you?" You challenged him back, your eyes wandering from his cock to his face again.

"Oh, I think ya fuckin' will," Daryl said, his voice full of confidence. "'Cause I fuckin' want to. And it’s my turn to take what I want."

Every movement, every quiet moan, and every word you both whispered to each other heightened the lust and need for the both of you. Daryl’s strokes on his cock became more frantic, and he could feel his orgasm building, the pressure in his balls growing with every stroke, but he was determined to hold off until he had fully taken in the sight of you.

"Gonna make sure ya know who’s watchin'," Daryl said quietly. "Gonna leave my mark on ya."

He positioned himself above you, and without saying another word, he pointed his cock at you, making sure that his cum would land where he wanted it to.

"I ain't done," he growled, his eyes locked on you. "Not yet."

He took another step closer, his hand still jerking his throbbing shaft, while his other hand reached out, grabbing a handful of your hair and pulling you up slightly, just enough to make you look at him with wide eyes.

"Do ya want me to finish like this?" He mumbled, his voice already hoarse. "Or do ya want me to make a fuckin' mess 'round here in yer tent?"

You didn’t have a chance to answer before he let go of your hair and moved his cock closer to your body again. He had seen enough, felt enough—he was on the edge and couldn’t hold it back any longer. With a low groan, he started to jerk himself off harder and faster, his eyes never leaving yours, and without warning, he came hard, his hips bucking wildly and his cum shooting out, landing across your body, most of it on your breasts and chin.

"Fuck," he muttered, still stroking his cock, but slowing down. "Look at ya. Just a fuckin' mess now."

You lay there, slowly pulling your fingers out of your pussy, your body covered with his cum. "You know," you suddenly started, your voice quiet but teasing. "You might be the first wildflower that might leave a thorn in my side."

A smirk formed itself on Daryl's lips due to the mention of the flowers, but it was quickly replaced by a look of embarrassment, and he shifted uncomfortably as he put his cock back into his pants. "Shut ya damn mouth, woman."

Without a word, he stepped forward, grabbed your head roughly by your hair, and yanked you up to meet his eyes. You couldn’t help but whimper as he was staring at you up and down, so dangerously close.

Daryl grinned at the noise you made and grabbed your neck with his other hand, the thumb going to your chin and gathering the rest of his cum that was slowly sliding down on it.

"Eat," he insisted, but before you could answer or protest in any way, he put his thumb against your lips and pushed it inside your mouth, waiting for you to suck it off.

And just as he pulled it out again, his mouth came crashing down on yours in a rough and primal kiss. It was demanding, and his teeth moved against your skin as he went down to the side of your jaw, sucking on every bit of flesh on his way down to your neck before biting down hard into it, leaving his mark.

His gaze then fell to your fingers, still glistening with the juices of your pussy, as he held you in a tight grip to keep you from falling due to your trembling legs. Slowly, teasingly, he reached out and brought your fingers to his mouth. His tongue slid over your skin, licking and sucking them off intensely, devouring every bit of what was left of you on them.

Daryl enjoyed the taste of you, and his eyes never left yours as he pulled back a little, his hand roughly grabbing your chin. "Don’t ya fuckin' forget this," he growled, letting go of you and watching as you stumbled back onto the ground in front of him before he finally turned to leave. "Yer mine in ways ya don’t even understand yet."

[pitchsidestories]

my kink is karma II Alexia Putellas x Reader

a/n: Hi, we hope you've as much fun with the oneshot as we had writing it.

masterlist I word count: 1695

Champions League nights were always magical, no matter who the opponent was. But a Champions League final against record champion Olympique Lyonnais promised an even more special night.

After Barcelonas loss against the same team in the final two years prior, they had something to prove. So of course, the atmosphere among the team was a mixture between excitement and nervousness.

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest right before the game started. You hugged your teammates and wished them a good game, partly to calm their anxiety and partly to calm your own.

“What about me?”, Alexias voice sounded from behind you.

As you turned around, she stood there, her arms wide open with a winning smile on her face.

You looked her up and down before jokingly saying: “You? Well…”

“Well?!”, she echoed, playing offended.

You winked at her: “A goal from you later would be perfect, you know why.”

You could still feel Alexias eyes following you as you took your position on the pitch.

While the referee blew her whistle, signaling the start of the game, the bench was still busy discussing what just had happened.

“What did she mean, Ale?”, Vicky asked, barely able to contain her curiosity.

Alexia shrugged: “Nothing.”

The young striker wrinkled her nose: “I don’t believe you.”

“Focus on the game, kiddo.”, Alexia laughed, nodding in the direction of the pitch.

“I’m not a kid, you’re just old.”, Vicky retorted with a grin.

Mapi joined the conversation with an innocent look on her face: “She’s not wrong about that, Ale.”

“I’ll show you guys old!”, Alexia rolled her eyes with fondness.

Ona grinned at her: “Y/n wants a goal from you!”

“From the bench?”, Mapi asked, her eyebrows raised.

“No, when she’s coming on.”, Ona explained.

“More like if she’s coming on.”, Mapi corrected her.

While the two defenders giggled, Alexia just shook her head: “Of course I’m coming on!”

You realized quickly that the game would not be an easy win. Lyon had their chances but so did Barcelona. For almost an hour, it was an even match but you could feel that your team wanted it more. And then Aitana scored.

“Well done, Tana!”, you yelled as you ran towards her to celebrate.

She hugged you tightly: “Thanks!”

From this moment on, your priority was to defend the lead and try to put your strikers into goal scoring situations.

In the ninetieth minute, Alexia came on. Your heart skipped a beat while she joined you on the pitch. But you also felt some kind of anger. There were only six minutes left to play.

Alexia made the most out of it. 120 seconds after coming on, she scored the 2:0 for Barcelona.

You could barely contain your happiness as you watched your girlfriend run across the pitch while pulling her shirt over her head to celebrate.

You had to blink away some tears as you followed her and pulled her into a celebratory hug: “Ale!”

 “You got the goal you wanted after all.”, she retorted with a smug smile on her face. Despite her cocky attitude you could see that her hazelnut eyes were turning wet. The captain of your team was overtaken by her own emotions.

Everyone could see how much it meant for the midfielder to score in the final against a team to whom you both lost twice in a final.

“You deserve it so much, Ale.”, you whole-heartedly whispered into her ear, not sure if Alexia was even able to understand you as the noise in the stadium escalated.

Embracing you for one last time the Blonde had to let you go, not before muttering close to your face, giving you chills everywhere:” This one is for us.”

“Yeah, yeah, very romantic, but we still got a few minutes to play.”, Lucy interrupted the emotional moment between you two grinning before throwing the midfielder’s jersey back to Alexia who slowly put it back on.

“Lucy.”, your girlfriend rolled her eyes annoyed at the English defender.

“Let’s go.”, Lucy replied unimpressed.

“Don’t worry, we’ll celebrate that goal later.”, you promised Alexia winking.

“I can’t wait.”, she replied.

“Hey! Enough now!”, the older English player yelled impatiently by your lovebird’s behaviour.

“You don’t understand, Lucia.”, you protested laughing.

“We’ve four minutes left.”, she said unmoved by your quite visible emotional turmoil.

“Only four more minutes.”, you repeated to yourself. In fact, they felt like the longest minutes in Champions League history. Your legs were so tired, when the referee blew the final whistle, you fell to your knees, simply from exhaustion and happiness.

Barcelona has won, a second time in a row. It was Alexia's, your teammates and your triumph against Lyon at last. This was unbelievable.

“We did it!”, Alexia rejoiced, standing right next to you.

“Yes, we did.”, you answered cheerfully, before you added with a worried glance at your girlfriend, careful, don’t trip over!”

Your warning came too late, the Barcelona captain fell ungraciously over her own boots, lucky for her she landed very softly on top of your body.

“Girls, the children are still here!”, Sandra shouted at you, although the goalkeeper couldn’t hide her amusement by what just had happened.

“Shut up, Sandra.”, Alexia demanded, her usual stern face was now full of giddiness and excitement. It felt like the young girl who became a fan of Barcelona and fell in love with the club and football had overtaken her in that very second.

“Yeah, nothing to see here.”, you giggled.

“Exactly.”, the captain confirmed, while pressing a kiss to your already blushed cheek.

“You should get up now though, the press wants interviews with you both.”, Irene intervened seriously.

“Coming.“, Alexia said, carefully lifting herself off of you.

You immediately followed suit, brushing the grass of your shirt and short before hurrying to your interview.

The young journalist thrusted a microphone towards you: “Y/n, what does the CL win mean to you?“

“It means so much to me. I know people questioned whether we would be able to keep up with last years performance. But I think we proved that here tonight.“, you said. Your gaze subconsciously shifting towards Alexia who was interviewed on the other side of the stadium.

“You certainly did. Thanks for taking the time and have fun celebrating.“

You grinned at the journalist: “Gracias.“

Turning away from the camera, you were greeted by Alexia: “Done?“

“Yes, what about you?“, you asked, hoping that she was done with her media duties for the night as well.

“Me too.“

Alexia took your hand into hers, gently pulling you away from the cameras and the bustle on the field.

“Wait, where are you taking me?“, you laughed while you followed her.

“Somewhere more private.“, Alexia smiled.

You grinned: “Sounds like a good idea.“

“Come on.“

“I’m right behind you.“, you assured her while Alexia opened the door to your hotel room and pulled you in.

“So here we’re.“, you said, patiently waiting for her to make a move.

She nodded, her shoulders slumping in relaxation: “Finally.“

You wrapped your arms around her: “Oh yes, tonight was unbelievable…“

“You were unbelievable.“, she corrected you softly.

“So where you. After everything that happened in the past year.“ You were absolutely in awe about how much your girlfriend had fought to come back after her ACL injury, the setbacks she had injury-wise and with the conditions of the Spanish national team and how she dealt with the little game time she got.

People had started to doubt that she would ever come back as the World’s best football player but you knew, it was only a matter of time.

Apparently, Alexia felt a similar way. All the hard work she put in was finally worth it. She blinked the wetness in her eyes away: “Thank you. It means so much to me to have scored this goal tonight…“

“I can only imagine.“

Alexias hand come down on your thigh, right above your left knee. The bright red of the injury from the Champions League final two years ago had faded and only left a scar.

You both knew the injury was something that had bothered you for a long time. Alexia did not have to say a word, you knew what she meant but you only shook your head: “That was nothing compared to Ona tonight… that moment was really scary.“

“Ona’s tough.”, your girlfriend remarked softly.

“That’s true. Plus, she’s in good hands with Lucy.”, you were smiling fondly as you were thinking about your teammates who’s love for each other was so visible after the win.

“You don’t have to worry about it.”, Alexia declared earnestly.

“I don’t.”, you cleared your throat before you continued, close your eyes, what do you see?”

For a moment the Blonde gave you a questioning look, afterwards she dd as you told her. A huge grin was forming on her lips:” Us celebrating.”

“A very iconic moment.”, you answered mirroring her happiness while you were slowly undressing yourself.

“Oh, not this one. The next one.”, Alexia quickly corrected herself.

“The next one?”, you lifted an eyebrow which she couldn’t see, but your voice transported your surprise.

“Next year.”, the midfielder confirmed.

“What about now? You can open your eyes again.”, you offered her trying to sound nonchalantly and hide the excitement which you felt running through your veins right now.

“Now, I see you.”, Alexia swallowed hard while her eyes who appeared dark green under the light of the bedside lamp wandered through your almost entirely naked body.

“Liking what you see?”, you asked her in a cheeky tone knowing fully well what your girlfriend was feeling when she looked at you.

“You look so beautiful right now.”, the player replied, licking her lips as she bridged the distance between you both to gave you a passionate kiss. When her kink was karma, triumph never tasted as good as with you by her side.

It was going to be a long night and you couldn’t wait to get started with your own private celebration. The public could wait until tomorrow, now was your time to enjoy the win.

[yurozo]

ink-related natural disasters (leon kennedy restaurant au oneshot)

summary: it's your first shift, and leon's been asked (ordered) to show you the ropes (fuck up tremendously in front of you on numerous occassions). no warnings, gn!reader.

a/n: my first request!! i hope you guys like it :D if y'all want me to continue the restaurant au let me know!

"does the cheese pizza have dairy?"

it's only half an hour into his shift, and leon's already contemplating on the different ways that he can permanently end his career in food service. lighting himself on fire in the middle of the floor is currently the most viable option, the candle is right there and if he moved his arm down just far enough-

"yes, ma'am. the cheese pizza does have dairy in it," he answers instead, mouth pinched into a thin smile. the pen between his fist cracks a little at the last word, earning a much easier end than the man holding it.

"then i won't get it," the woman says, looking back down at the menu with a huff. "i'm allergic."

for all of leon's strength, he can't help the little sigh that comes out of his mouth then. the man sitting at his table gives him a sympathetic look, and it's only then that leon does actually feel a bit bad.

not only does he have to deal with a woman who apparently never passed third grade english, he's currently responsible for training the new person coming in tonight. in all honesty, he's not quite sure why wesker gave him the responsibility. he's certainly hasn't been here the longest, not the most strict, and about three shattered glasses currently in the garbage isn't exactly giving a testimony to his self-assurance.

he's fucked. leon's going to have some half-baked college kid show up, stand behind him ominously all night, and ask questions until his head hurts. wesker didn't even allow him the chance to say no-- just glaring through the world's darkest sunglasses before storming off to his own office.

the only hope for him is that the tips are decent enough for him to put up with it.

the woman sitting in front of him, who he has so aptly named public enemy number one, finally finishes her order. leon offers a quick goodbye, snapping the notepad shut with his best attempt at a smile. he walks away, looking for the next open source flame is until he freezes right as claire walks by him.

what might just be the most beautiful person he's ever seen in his life is currently at the front entrance.

you're there, chatting with jill at the hostess stand with a nervous smile on your face and a notebook tucked to your chest. as cliche as it is, the restaurant really does seem to come to a standstill-- conversation seems to dim, everything seems to move in slow motion, and leon suddenly feels like air isn't getting into his chest.

if you're actually the new hire, he is truly and royally fucked.

claire giggles to herself as she finally breezes past him, muttering something under her breath that goes completely over his head. he couldn't give less of a shit what she's saying, because now jill's pointing at him, and you're looking at him with a smile and bright eyes.

it's a miracle he isn't a puddle on the floor yet, but that's neither here nor there. not when you're now walking towards him, and leon still hasn't thought of something cool to say.

"hi," you greet him softly, quickly rattling off your name and qualifications while leon is still a million miles away. "you're leon, right?"

he blinks at you slowly. "huh?"

"leon." you clarify, the slightest hint of a grin curling at your lips. jesus, you're cute even when you're clearly pitying him. "jill told me that i'm supposed to shadow you on the floor."

"i'm leon." the words leave his mouth a little too fast, the syllables blurring together in a barely perceptible haze. he gives himself a mental smack on the forehead. "i'll take care of you."

at least he has the mind to smile, even if the plastic of pen number two shatters completely in his fist.

-

he learns four things about you in the span of two hours. one, that you're incredibly smart. after about three tables you've already picked up on the general routine, the menu prices, how to describe food that you don't even eat.

two, you have a great sense of humour. or he's just on a roll with his jokes. regardless, you've laughed at every shitty one-liner that left his mouth tonight, and leon feels like he's on cloud nine.

number three, you're gorgeous, and in a way that everyone else is noticing too. tables are significantly nicer to him when you're standing politely behind, as if they too want to be on their best behaviour to win your approval. get in line, he always thinks bitterly.

and finally, you're friendly in a way that almost infuriates him. mostly because he can't tell if he's actually winning brownie points with you, or you're just entertaining the man training you. every piece of information about yourself is carefully folded and tucked away in his brain for safekeeping, just in case its the former.

"you know, i should set you up with my daughter, i think you'd love her." the old lady at his table speaks up, reaching across the table to pat his arm. "she's a real gem."

"okay," leon sighs, "how about instead, i get you that appetizer?"

you stifle a laugh behind him, but he can still feel the puff of air on his back. leon can feel you move behind him until your head is peeking over his shoulder, pretending to be very interested in whatever he's writing on the ticket.

you're so close-- he can feel your hair brushing against his cheek, feel the warmth of your shoulder right against his back, and thats when disaster strikes.

ever so glorious pen number three creaks under the weight of his grip, before pronouncing its death by exploding ink all over both his hands and the ticket. all he can do is mutter some half-formed apology to his table before running to the bathroom with his metaphorical tail between his legs. you follow closely behind, but not before giving the customers an apologetic smile and a sickly-sweet apology.

again, infuriating. been here a couple hours and you're more of a natural than he is.

any hope of brownie points with you is draining alongside the ink dripping onto the ceramic. when he looks up at himself in the mirror, he can't help but internally cringe at his appearance. fully-formed eyebags, hair tousled from a nervous habit he's too tired to break, and now ink all over his sole work shirt. he's been looking like this in front of you this whole time, no wonder you probably think he's truly lost his mind.

you appear behind him through the mirror, just over his shoulder again. "you really should take it easy on the pens. they didn't do anything wrong."

a half-hearted laugh rings between the both of you. you reach for the paper towels to start getting some of the blue residue off. the way you touch him is soft, way too caring for someone you just met. he thinks that's the part he likes the most so far.

the heart on your sleeve, not too unlike his own.

"so much for taking care of you, huh?" he chuckles, staring down at the way your hand is holding his with the other rubbing the ink off his palm.

"you did great, don't worry," you smile, glancing up at him. "let me return the favour."

-

still trying to will the blush off his face, leon furiously uncrumples the ticket and sticks it in front of luis.

"sancho, what the hell is this?"

"it's the order for 37, what does it look like?" he barks back, a little too harshly for something that is most definitely his fault. if luis is offended by his tone of voice he certainly doesn't show it, just tilting his head at leon like he's got him all figured out.

"it looks like you wrote this with the pen in your mouth," he laughs, sticking it above him anyway. "what's got you so distracted?"

before leon can give him some sort of half-witted answer, ada steps up to the counter, glaring at the piece of paper above her like it personally offended her. "you're an idiot, kennedy."

leon just sighs, "tell me something i don't know."

[k-nayee]

It's Giving...Igor Percy Jackson and the Olympians

wc: 4.3k a/n: lol I'm having so much fun with these oneshots y'all. I hope you do too!

Traveler M.List

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

The sun hung lazily over Camp Half-Blood casting a golden hue on the wooded area.

Percy Jackson, now somewhat accustomed to the camp's ebb and flow, still found himself feeling out of place.

Though the events of his first quest had solidified his place in the world of Gods and monsters, the reality of being a Demigod was still sinking in.

He strolled through the camp watching the campers in their daily routines; the clang of swords from the training fields, distant chatter from the dining pavilion.

But amidst it all something caught his attention—a bright and bubbly figure bouncing around the Ares cabin kids without a care in the world.

Percy blinked as his gaze trailed your movements. You was a complete contrast to the scowling battle-hardened Ares kids.

Not to mention you didn't look like a typical child of Ares. Hell you didn't seem to belong there at all.

"Who is that?" Percy muttered partially to himself.

Annabeth, who had been walking the camp with him, followed his gaze.

A smirk curled her lips. "Oh that's ____. She's from the Eris cabin."

"Eris? As in...the Goddess of strife?" His brows furrowed in confusion.

"Yep," Annabeth confirmed with a chuckle. "Goddess of discord and chaos."

He stared at you laughing with one of the Ares kids, passing them a bottle of water as though it was the most normal thing in the world.

It was hard to accept the idea of you being related to a Goddess of chaos when you seemed so gentle. "She doesn't really look it...like at all."

"You really think so? Awe thank you!"

Percy and Annabeth jumped, startled to find you standing just a few steps away with a sweet smile plastered on your face.

How you got that close without them noticing was beyond them.

You were practically beaming—a stark contrast to the usual gloom that seemed to hang around the children of Eris.

"I get that a lot ya know," you continued, rocking back on your heels as if completely unaware of the scare you caused. "If I'm honest it's probably cause of my dad. Sweetest man you could ever meet...wouldn't even guess he was a serial killer."

There was a beat of stunned silence.

The two share a quick wide-eyed glance of disbelief, clearly unsure whether to laugh or be terrified.

Before they could react you dart forward and grab Percy's hand with both of yours, shaking it enthusiastically.

"Percy Jackson!" you chirp, shaking his hand so vigorously that it left him wobbling on his feet. "Can't believe I'm finally meeting you in the flesh. The son of Poseidon! Wow. I've heard so much about you."

Percy found himself lost in the whirlwind that was you. Your energy was so sunny in comparison with the words that had just left your mouth seconds ago.

"Uh...y-yeah," he stammered trying to collect himself. "That's me."

You didn't let go of his hand right away, instead holding it just long enough to make the situation a little awkward.

"So! You really fought the God of War Ares huh? That must've been something. Although..." You leaned in a little with a head tilt as if you were sizing him up. "I was expecting more. I mean for someone who fought Ares, you look like you could barely take on a mortal bully."

Percy was caught off guard. "W-What?"

"You know with all the talk around camp I was expecting it to be a little more...epic. Then again you did the best you could. I mean, if I were facing a God I'd probably want to take the easy way out too. No shame in keeping it simple."

He opened his mouth to respond but nothing came out. What was he supposed to say to that?

Annabeth stifled a laugh, clearly amused at his baffled expression before looking to you.

"You're really good at that aren't you?" Her tone was light with an edge of knowing.

You give a half-shrug.

"At what? Being honest? Someone's gotta keep him humble Wise Girl. Though," your gaze slid to Annabeth with a mischievous glint, "Of all people you should know all about fight with Ares right? Oh wait—never mind. You weren't there. Shame really. Could've used the help."

Annabeth's lips twitched into a tight smirk.

"Yeah well someone had to stay behind and do the thinking." Her words were sharp and calm as if this exchange was nothing new to her. "I figured you'd be better at that considering your parentage."

Your eyes sparkled with amusement.

"Touché," you give a dramatic little bow clearly unfazed by Annabeth's quick jab.

Meanwhile Percy was still trying to wrap his head around what was happening. "Wait...what do you mean I couldn't take on a mortal bully?"

You turned back to him with a bright smile as if you hadn't just insulted him. "Oh no offense of course! It's just with all those big stories about you I was expecting someone a little more...I don't know, formidable? Then again tales exaggerate things. Kind of like when you hear all about a store's big sale, but when you get there it's just old clearance stuff that no one wanted anyway."

Percy blinked. "What?"

You pat his arm as if to console him. "It's fine really. Happens all the time. I'm sure you're...adequate."

The Jackson boy once again didn't know how to respond. Was he supposed to be offended?

It wasn't like you were directly mocking him—more like you were making him doubt himself in the weirdest way possible.

Before he could say anything, your gaze suddenly drifted over Percy's shoulder and your eyes lit up.

"Oh!" Bouncing on your heels as you focused on whatever had caught your attention you turn to the pair with a smile. "Looks like I'm needed! Well it was fun meeting you Son of Poseidon."

You give Percy a teasing salute and then turn to Annabeth with a wink. "And you and I definitely need to have another round of wits Wise Girl."

With a little wave you skip off leaving them in the dust.

For a long moment Percy and Annabeth stood there, both staring after you.

"I don't get it," Percy muttered, finally breaking the silence. "What's her deal?"

"She's from the Eris cabin," Annabeth explained with a shrug as though that summed everything up. "Being chaotic is kind of her thing."

Percy blinked. "Chaotic? She's weird. Her dad's a serial killer Annabeth."

She sheepishly rub the back of her neck. "Yeah I wasn't expecting that either. But trust me she's not dangerous. Not to us at least. She just likes stirring things up."

"Yeah but..." Percy shook his head, watching you with a deepening frown. "I don't trust her. She's too..."

"Too what?" She asks with a smirk. "Too nice?"

Percy shot her a look. "She just told me I was like a disappointing clearance sale!"

Annabeth chuckled. "Yeah that's pretty standard for her to keep people on their toes. You get used to it."

Percy frowned. "I don't think I'll ever get used to that."

As they spoke Percy's gaze caught sight of you now across the camp.

You were laughing with a group of Aphrodite and Artemis kids, flitting between them like you belonged everywhere.

It was weird. The way you moved so easily between groups always smiling and lighthearted—yet there was something unnerving about it.

Like you were playing some game that no one else knew about.

"Look," Percy said nodding toward you. "There she goes again."

Annabeth followed his line of sight just in time to see you lean in close to one of the Aphrodite kids, whispering something with an exaggerated gasp.

The Aphrodite kid's eyes widened and she looked at you for confirmation with shock coloring her face.

Seeing your nod, she becomes visibly shaken till the point a few of her half-siblings swarmed her trying to console her.

While they were distracted you effortlessly slid over to a nearby Artemis camper and whisper something in her ear.

The Artemis girl's face hardened instantly. Eyes darkened with fury, without hesitation she marches over to the Aphrodite camper.

Tension between them crackled as they exchanged words.

The Aphrodite camper snapped something sharp at the Artemis camper who fired back with equal heat.

Within moments the two girls were yelling and nearby campers began to picking sides.

It wasn't just about the two of them anymore—campers from both cabins were dragged into the fray.

Shoves were exchanged and even the onlookers who had initially tried to mediate were swept up in the full-blown fight.

You slipped away completely unnoticed, leaving the chaos to spread behind you as counselors rushed in to contain the fight you had so subtly instigated.

Annabeth's mouth fell open. "Did...did she just—?"

Percy nodded with an darkening expression. "I told you."

Annabeth shook her head in disbelief. "She really does live up to her mother's name doesn't she?"

Percy sighed, his gaze following you as you joined back with the Ares kids as if nothing had happened.

"Yeah," he muttered. "And I'm pretty sure she's way more dangerous than she lets on."

*.·:·.☽✧✧☾.·:·.*

Percy couldn't shake the unsettling feeling you left in your wake.

You weren't like anyone he'd ever met at Camp Half-Blood—and that was saying something.

All day he kept noticing you; flitting between groups of campers, always smiling, always helping.

But for the Ares cabin? You didn't just help—you managed everything for them like a personal servant.

You'd bounce from one camper to the next, making sure everyone had what they needed.

A strap needed tightening on someone's armor? You were there.

Someone's sword needed fixing? Off to Hephaestus Cabin to get it repaired.

You even carried a pile of weapons over your shoulder like it was nothing, making sure every spear and sword was in pristine condition.

It was strange the way you handled things.

To everyone else you looked like a wimp. A pushover trailing after the Ares kids like a loyal dog.

Some campers even joked about it, wondering why someone as bubbly and soft as you would waste your time with them.

You didn't have the brutal intimidating energy the Ares kids were known for.

And yet despite your soft appearance and sunny attitude, they seemed to tolerate on you.

As lunchtime approached Percy found himself alone.

Annabeth was busy welcoming a new camper, leaving him to make his way to the pavilion by himself. 

Plate balanced in hand, he scans the rows of tables where campers sat in their respective groups—most sticking to their own cabins.

Though the tables around buzzed with laughter and conversation, but Percy still felt like an outsider, even after everything he'd done.

He hadn't fully found his place, not yet really.

Tearing his gaze away with a sigh the Son of Poseidon makes his way to the central hearth to make an offering.

With a portion of his meal selected Percy gets ready to offer it to his dad when—

"Hey Jackson!"

Percy nearly jumped out of his skin. You had appeared beside him, tray in hand with a grin like you'd just won the lottery.

"Uh...hey." he managed caught off guard.

You leaned forward, watching him with wide eyes as he prepared to toss the food into the hearth. "Whatcha doing?"

The Demigod glances down at the hearth then back at you. "Just uh, just giving an offering to my dad."

"Oh cool! It's sweet you do that," you replied with a grin, humming thoughtfully as you looked at the flames. "Guess I should do that too."

Percy's brows raised in curiosity as he watched you step up to the fire.

He assumed you'd pick something off your plate—maybe a small portion to toss in as an offering like everyone else did—but instead you did something that made his heart skip a beat:

You reached directly into the flames.

"Whoa wait—what are you—?!" Percy sputtered eyes widening in disbelief.

Instead of pulling your hand away with a scream of agony, you calmly pluck a half-cooked piece of [food] from the fire.

Percy's mouth dropped open in a mixture of shock and confusion plastered on his face.

"What?" You blink at him before following his gaze to the still-flaming food in your hand. "Oh there wasn't any more of my mom's favorite left at the bar. I figured I'd just grab something quick before it burned all the way through ya know?"

Percy stared at you like you were from another planet. "Your mom's favorite food?"

"Yep," you confirm with a grin. "She's a picky eater sometimes. Then again I guess Eris isn't the easiest Goddess to please."

Shrugging as though this was common knowledge, you turn the food in your hand to inspect it further. "I usually only give blessings for her. Oh and Ares too—only if he hasn't ticked me off though."

Percy's brain tried to catch up with the words you'd just said. His mouth moved, but no words came out for a second. "Wait so...you're only making offerings to Eris and Ares?"

You make a small prayer for your mom before throwing the food back into the hearth and turn to the blonde boy.

"Uh-huh! The others don't really care much for me. I mean can you blame them? No one likes messing with my mom, and by extension me. She causes too much trouble even for them." You flashed him a playful grin. "Plus, I think I'm her favorite."

He shook his head unable to wrap his mind around how nonchalant you were about everything.

"You're...impossible," Percy mumbled, his tone equal parts baffled and impressed.

"You're not the first person to say that," you teased with a wink and nudge him lightly. "Anyway, looks like you're all alone today. Mind if I join you?"

Before he could respond you were already dragging him to one of the emptier tables.

Percy was still trying to figure you out. You weren't dangerous—at least not in the way he'd expect a child of Eris to be.

But you were unsettling in your own way; friendly yet... strange, an almost too carefree energy about you.

"So," you lean forward with a bright-eyed grin, "What's your story? I mean I know the basics—son of Poseidon, fought the God of War, saved the day and all—but how's a guy like you end up doing all that?"

Percy gave you a sideways look. "You already know all that stuff. You seem to know everything that goes on around camp."

"True," you admit with a pout. "But I wanna hear it from you. Stories are way more fun that way."

He hesitated, still unsure if you were genuinely curious or just setting him up for another round of subtle digs.

But surprisingly the more you pressed, the more you managed to pull bits and pieces of his story from him.

He talked a little about his mom and how much she meant to him—though he skipped over the worst parts.

"Wow only child in both worlds huh? That's a bummer. I was an only child out in the mortal world too, but Camp Half-Blood gave me a bunch of moody gloomy brothers and sisters." You waved vaguely in the direction of the Eris table, where your half-siblings sat.

Percy followed your gaze, eyes narrowing as he observed the difference between you and the others from your cabin.

They were all starkly different from you—dark, brooding, exuding an aura of chaos just by being around.

Like storm clouds or a brewing hurricane while you were the sunshine in the middle of it all.

It didn't make sense.

"You don't really fit in with them though," Percy said, gesturing to your siblings. "You're...not like them."

You tilt your head with a playful smirk tugging at your lips. "You'd be surprised. It's easier to blend in with chaos when you wear a smile. Keeps people guessing."

Satisfied with the answer Percy suddenly shifts in his seat.

His gaze dart around, unsure of how to bring up the topic that had been bugging him ever since your first meeting.

Finally he cleared his throat. "Uh...speaking of family. You mentioned your dad before. That he was...y'know..."

"A serial killer?" you finished for him, smile unfaltering.

Percy flinched at how easily the words rolled off your tongue, like it was just another quirky fact about your life.

"Yeah that."

"Oh my dad's the greatest!" you exclaimed, leaning back with a nostalgic sigh. "The sweetest man you'd ever meet—total golden retriever energy, always in pastels and soft colors. He's truly the last person you'd expect to have over two hundred bodies to his name."

Percy nearly choked on his drink. "Two hundred?!"

"The official documented count. They estimate there's more. He never really kept tabs so who knows," you add with a shrug.

The pre-teen was silent, his mind reeling as he tried to process what you'd just said. "And you...seem okay with that?"

"Why wouldn't I be? He was a good guy! I mean he only went after people who deserved it—kinda like Jigsaw. Strong moral compass and everything."

He purse his lips. "That's...that's not really the same thing."

"Eh. But hey, at least he stopped killing when I was born. Wanted to focus on raising me. He did start back when I turned six though." You smiled fondly as if reminiscing about happy childhood memories. "We even went on father-daughter hunting trips together. Great bonding time."

Percy's jaw dropped. "H-Hunting trips?"

"Yup! He'd teach me all about tracking, stealth, how to dispose of bodies. Said I had a natural gift for it."

He tried not to grimace at the thought of six-year-old you going on murder trips with a serial killer, a disturbingly vivid picture appearing in his mind.

"That's messed up," he blurted out unable to stop himself.

You giggled, waving it off like it was no big deal. "He got caught when I was nine. That's when I ended up in foster care."

The casual way you spoke about your past made Percy's skin crawl but he was too curious to stop listening. "Foster care?"

You poked at your food absentmindedly as you spoke. "It wasn't the best. Different homes, different people. It was toxic really: thrown bottles, yelling voices, a bruise here and there..."

Percy stiffened, the similarities between your childhood and his life with Gabe hitting a little too close to home.

Though it crashes at the sight of your dreamy expression, "...it was so chaotic. So beautiful."

"You're serious?" his voice was barely above a whisper, unsure if you were joking or genuine.

"Oh completely," you reply without missing a beat. "Chaos is unpredictable, uncontrollable. There's just something so freeing about it."

He swallowed hard feeling the gulf between how you both saw the world. What you called beautiful, he called trauma.

Not knowing how to respond to that he gives a stiff nod. "So um. W-what happened after that?"

You snapped out of your reverie and perk up again. "Oh right! So when I was around eleven I found out I was a Demigod. Arrived here and figured out who my mom was—Eris, goddess of strife and chaos, all that jazz."

A sense of relief filled him, feeling the conversation veer back to something he could at least wrap his head around. "And your dad?"

Your eyes brightened as if he'd asked the perfect question. "Well of course I started visiting him in prison once I figured out how to shadow travel."

"Wait," Percy blinked in surprise. "You visited him? Like you actually met him?"

"Yup," you said cheerfully. "I'd pop in during the night. To everyone else it just looked like he was talking to a dark corner. But I was there right beside him. Kept him company until..." Your voice trailed off but your smile didn't falter. "Well until he got the lethal injection when I turned twelve last year."

Percy stared at you, his mouth dry. "You were there?!"

"Duh. Who else was gonna be there for him? That's my dad after all...stayed with him until the very end."

A fond look appears on your face. "He even said his last words to me. Go out there and keep shaking things up sweetheart. The world's better with a little disorder..."

"Wow..." Was all Percy managed to say. He leans back in his seat as his mind reeled from everything you'd just told him. "I...uh...I'm sorry for your loss?"

You giggled, waving your hand dismissively. "Oh don't be. It's all good. He lived a full life you know? And I got to see it all."

Before either of you could continue the conversation a familiar voice cuts through the air. "____!"

Clarisse stormed over, her heavy boots thudding against the floor as she approached.

"Where have you been?!" She barked. Her scowl deepened when she saw Percy sitting across from you. "And what the Hades are you doing sitting with him?"

You simply smiled at her as if you hadn't noticed her foul mood at all.

"Just keeping Percy company," you chirped. "He looked lonely."

Clarisse huffed, her gaze sliding back to Percy with an unimpressed sneer. "Lonely huh? Poor little Seaweed Brain."

Percy bristled at the insult. He couldn't understand why you hang out with them, why they relied on you.

The question had been gnawing at him since he first noticed your strange connection with the Ares kids.

And now, with Clarisse glaring at him, he couldn't hold it in anymore.

"What's the deal with you and those Ares kids anyway? They treat you like—like you're their servant or something."

Clarisse's sneer twisted into something darker, her voice dropping low as she leaned over the table toward Percy.

"You don't know anything," she growled. "Just her mother is to our father, she's everything to us. Without her we wouldn't be able to fight the way we do. Spill blood the way we do. She makes us stronger."

The intensity in her voice caught Percy off guard.

There was a fierceness to her words, but there was also something deeper—something like reverence. Maybe even admiration.

The Ares cabin respected you, needed you in a way that went beyond simple reliance. It unsettled him.

He looked at you perplexed but you only smiled at him as if you'd heard this all before.

Sensing the tension building you gently place a hand on Clarisse's arm, your touch instantly diffusing her aggression.

"Relax Clarisse," you say with a grin. "Percy's not so bad. He's just curious."

Clarisse grumbled under her breath, clearly still annoyed but less intense now.

"Fine. Just don't take too long. You know where to find us." She glared at Percy one last time before turning on her heel and stomping away, though not before giving the Demigod one last warning glare.

You turn back to Percy with a playful glint in your eyes. "Looks like I saved just you from an ass-whooping. You owe me one."

Percy couldn't help but chuckle with a shake of his head.

"You sure are a wild one," his words slipped out before he could stop them.

"Wild....?" The word roll off your tongue. Your smirk darkened ever so slightly as if those words triggered something in you. 

Percy's brows furrowed unsure what you meant, but before he could ask, you raise your hand.

Dark inky smoke began to twist and curl from your palm, snaking around your fingers like living shadows.

The air seemed to thicken with energy and Percy could only watch transfixed as the smoke condensed into a solid shape—a golden apple.

It seemed to shimmer with a strange otherworldly light, pulse softly as though it had a heartbeat of its own.

Percy's breath hitched. There was something mesmerizing about it but also deeply unsettling.

He knew enough about myths to recognize what this was: The Apple of Discord.

"Wha—" Percy began, but the words died on his lips as you twirled your hand with an elegant flick of your wrist and the apple morphed.

In its place appeared a sleek new phone and a vape pen, both gleaming as though they had just been pulled out of a store display.

Percy barely had time to process what was happening before you casually tossed the objects a short distance from the table and stood up.

"Hey look!" you called out loud enough to catch the attention of the surrounding campers. "The newest [phone model] and a [flavored] vape from the mortal world!"

Heads snapped in your direction, eyes widening as campers spotted the coveted objects lying on the ground.

In an instant the entire dining pavilion erupted into chaos.

Campers lunged for the phone and vape, shoving and pushing each other out of the way desperate to claim the prize.

Voices rose, chairs screeched across the floor, and fists flew as they scramble for the items intensified.

Percy could only sit there watching in stunned disbelief as the scene unfolded around him.

Campers who had been peacefully eating moments before were now engaged in full-on brawls all over a phone and a vape.

It was like a bomb had gone off and you had lit the fuse.

From across the way, Clarisse and the Ares kids along with your half-siblings, watched the chaos unfold with bored amusement.

They barely paid attention as they continued eating, as if this kind of spectacle was a routine occurrence. It probably was.

You calmly sit back down in your seat with a soft giddy sigh as if you had just finished a particularly satisfying task.

You didn't even glance at the chaos you'd caused, your focus entirely on your food as you took a slow bite.

"Wild you say...?"

A pale-faced Percy turned to look at you. The sheer ease in which you'd thrown the entire pavilion into disorder left him speechless.

Finally, you turn back to him, still smiling that sweet carefree smile. "...you have no idea~"

[thebuddiearchives]

BUDDIE FIC RECS ✴ ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP ✴ VOL. 1

Fic recs with Buck and Eddie in an established relationship.

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all the roads, for your steps by @hattalove Oneshot || Teen || 1796

“I have a minute,” Bobby, still standing there, says when Eddie just blinks at him, frozen. “Are you okay? You look like you need to sit down.”

“I’m, uh,” Eddie swallows, “I’m cursing the patriarchy. Just give me a second.”

or, eddie has a question to ask.

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and longer by far by farfromthstars // @doeeyeseddie Oneshot || Teen || 14547

“Eddie’s been married once, and after Shannon asked him for a divorce and then died before they could do anything about it, he figured that was it for him. One marriage with all its ups and downs is enough for a lifetime. Granted, he didn’t think he’d fall in love with Buck and be lucky enough for that love to be returned.”

OR

Everyone seems to expect Eddie to propose to Buck any minute now, which is annoying because Eddie doesn’t want to get married again. He's sure of that. Or is he?

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Asked, Offered, Given, (He's) Taken by @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels Oneshot || Explicit || 2704

People like to flirt with Buck on calls. It kind of makes Buck uncomfortable.

And that makes Eddie frustrated.

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Been about 273 days and I’m coming home. by zimnokurw Oneshot || Not Rated || 1827

When Hen first met Evan Buckley (“call me Buck”) she thought the kid, who looked like a womanizer type, was going to be trouble.

What she did not think was that she was going to win 60$ from Chimney thanks to the fact that the kid is apparently in love with a hot-ass Army Medic.

(Or; Eddie is still in Afghanistan when Buck joins 118, so the team meets him for the first time when he drops by to surprise Evan. / But kinda also like Hen + Chim & Bobby react to Buck as a rookie.)

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beneath my mother tongue by archerincombat Oneshot || Teen || 31552

He sits bolt upright in his seat. Jee-Yun squeals at the sudden movement. “Holy shit,” he says out loud, simultaneously praying that it doesn’t become one of those words his niece repeats until it loses its sparkle. “I told Eddie I loved him.”

Jee-Yun laughs. It feels a little like she’s mocking him. “Dee,” she agrees solemnly, placing a tiny hand on Buck’s cheek.

Or: Buck goes home to Pennsylvania. It's more familiar than he wants it to be.

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bulletproof morning by not1_2write Oneshot || Explicit || 4493

It's not unusual for people to hit on Buck during calls. Beautiful, caring, competent, muscled Buck? Yeah, he gets hit on a lot. He always turns them down. He's taken after all and he only has eyes for Eddie.

Eddie isn't jealous. He is, however, a little insecure. Buck's had a lot of experience with sex and Eddie... not so much. That's not a bad thing... is it?

They have sex about it, then talk.

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call me by your name by ipretendtobesane // @userbuddie Oneshot || Not Rated || 11490

5 times someone calls buck 'diaz' not knowing he was married and the 1 time they call eddie 'diaz' too

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call you home by ashavahishta Oneshot || General || 6000

"He’s like, so pretty sometimes I can’t believe he’s real?” He’d rambled once, so tired at the end of shift he was basically drunk with it. “I’ll take your word for it,” Hen had said patiently, and patted him on the shoulder. “I like girls, remember?”

“He’s built like a Greek god with the face of an angel,” Eddie had argued, a stubborn set to his mouth like he was determined for Hen to believe just how gorgeous his husband was. “Even you couldn’t resist that.”

Or: "Eddie Diaz drinks his 'I fucking love my husband' juice for 6,000 words." OR "5 Times Eddie Told The Firefam About Buck and 1 Time They Actually Met Him".

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doing the things that animals do by @trippedandfell Oneshot || Teen || 3846

“Hey,” Buck says, reaching out to grab Eddie's hand. “How do you feel about red carpets?”

“Tacky in a bedroom, decent in a living room,” Eddie deadpans, because he likes to think he’s funny.

or: Buck's still a zoologist. Eddie's definitely in love.

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Eyes On You by sealeviathan Oneshot || Not Rated || 1060

Hen liked their new probie.

Buck was easy to get along with. He had a husband and a son, he was good at his job and helped everyone to the best of his ability. Not only that, but he was actually interesting. He was passionate, funny, caring and he fit well into the team dynamic. Hen was happy with this information - happy with her knowledge of one Evan Buckley.

That being said, she really didn't expect Buck to be the disloyal type. But here he was, at a bar, practically drooling over some bartender in front of all of his coworkers. The guy even seemed familiar with Buck.

---

Or: The fic where Buck blatantly lusts over Eddie. Hen and Chimney worry they're about to witness a marriage-ending move because Buck failed to mention that Eddie is the man he's married to.

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his name on your heart by spinningincircles // @tripleaxeldiaz Oneshot || Not Rated || 1258

Buck hops off the back of the ambulance, kneeling down so they’re eye to eye. “I’m always happy to help, sweetheart, but my name’s not—”

But he stops, because it hits him like a freight train — he is Mr. Diaz now.

————————————————————————

If I Fall, Can You Pull Me Up? by @princessfbi Oneshot || General || 7066

Eddie could pick Buck from a million miles away. Buck’s entire being was like one bright light in an otherwise cloudy sky. So, he was really interested to know why some stranger was wearing his boyfriend’s turnout coat and pretending to be him.

“This is Captain Nash for Firefighter Buckley. Please report.”

“Bobby,” Eddie said, already hurrying after the guy who was definitely not Buck. “Hey!”

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leading the way home by theosbuckley Oneshot || Not Rated || 4082

Now almost 2 weeks later Bobby was definitely sprouting some new grey hairs that had definitely not been there before and he was sure that he almost had a heart attack this morning - Buck thought he could do some daring rescue and did it without a second thought, and Bobby was slowly going insane, how Buck thought of these ideas was beyond him.

or

an au where buck joins the 118 but is married

————————————————————————

the measuring contest by ColorMeParanoid // @color-me-paranoid Oneshot || Teen || 2598

Hen snorted from her own cot. “Trust me, guys. This isn’t the kind of measuring contest you want to play with Buck because you will lose.”

But, comparing scars and exchanging crazy stories when meeting other people in your profession was basically a rite of passage so of course they didn’t take her warning seriously. It became a challenge instead and Eddie settled in for the show.

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no morning fears, no mountains to climb by iphigenias // @oatflatwhite Oneshot || Teen || 3692

“You’re invited,” Buck read aloud, raising his eyebrows meaningfully. “Together with their families, Jason and Amelia invite you to join them in the celebration of their marriage.” He says the word like that: italicised. Teasing and persistent. Eddie swallows his eggs. “Who’re Jason and Amelia?”

*

Eddie's invited to the wedding of an old army buddy in Texas.

Problem is, they all think he's straight.

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No thing definеs a man like love that makes him soft by justhockey // @everything-i-am Oneshot || Not Rated || 4028

“I don’t think you need a dad, that’s not how families work, right? Like, they all look different,” Chris says. “But it’s okay if you want one. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“What’s it like, having two?” Denny asks, and Buck has to cover his mouth so he doesn’t give himself away.

Christopher’s laugh is loud, and sweet, and tugs on Buck’s heartstrings in the same way that it always has done. He doesn’t even hesitate to say, “It’s fun. I love them.”

————————————————————————

plot twist (and turns) by autumnchills Oneshot || Teen || 4090

“I- I remember putting burgers in the truck. I took some off of Chimney so he could help Eddie finish assessing a patient. That’s the last thing.”

“Okay,” Bobby says, then hesitates before adding, “What happened is that someone stole the truck while you were in there.”

Buck’s head snaps up, and he tries to peer around the edge of the seat and console to get a better look at the guy. This was definitely not the turn he saw his evening taking, all jinxes considered.

aka What if Buck was in the truck when Brian stole it in 4x06?

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seeing you with him just don't feel right (you're giving me a heart attack) by bellabrady Oneshot || Not Rated || 1932

“Holy shit,” Chimney says, grabbing Hen’s arm like he needs to make sure she’s getting this. “So you guys killed our captain?”

“No!” Eddie and Buck say simultaneously.

“We were just…we…,” Buck tries before looking at Eddie for help. Eddie opens his mouth to explain that no, they did not kill their captain but—

“Okay, well, I guess we…,” he says with a grimace. “I guess we kind of killed our captain.”

“Eddie!” Buck snaps.

“What?” Eddie snaps back, throwing his hands up in frustration. “I mean, I don’t think the guy would’ve had a heart attack today if it wasn’t for us.” — Or: Buck and Eddie accidentally give their homophobic captain a heart attack.

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she’ll never get to eat you like your heart's a pomegranate by @colonoscopys Oneshot || General || 10217

Chris smiles at him, soft and steady. There’s a loud clang of the metal door behind both of them, a high pitched AHHHHH noise, and-

Eddie knows – he understands – that he doesn’t look like his kid. Chris has a lot of different features, and more often than not when they go out people expect Buck to be his father. Eddie has the brown hair and the brown eyes, and Chris is all sunshine features and bright blue skies.

But the grins they give each other when they realize who has entered the room – they’re identical.

- or, Five Times Buck was the Weird Parent, and One Time Eddie was

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where there's smoke, there's fire by wakeupnew Oneshot || Teen || 24027

Buck loves Christopher. Buck clearly loves both of them. He and Eddie haven't said it to each other yet, but it's in every gesture, every word. Every package of dinosaur nuggets Buck keeps in his refrigerator. Every time he sends a text because he saw a video of dogs looking ashamed after destroying stuff and he knows Eddie will think it's funny. The care he takes when he carries Chris to bed. How he looks at Eddie when he thinks Eddie's asleep.

It turns out that being in a secret relationship with your best friend in an active fire department is kind of a life-altering situation, once it's suddenly not a secret anymore.

————————————————————————

Whiplash by soft_satan Oneshot || General || 6001

She parked near him and got out, avoiding the puddle as she approached him. Hands on her hips, she shook her head in pity. “What on earth happened to you?”

He looked up at her with a pained smile, his shoulders instantly sagging with relief at the sight of her. “I got carjacked.” ... Thanks to a lack of communication, a horrific accident leads the team to fear the worst.

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whatever you lack, i make up (we make a really good team) by wafflesofdoom // @capseycartwright Oneshot || General || 10034

it was eddie, who found out about the bet.

that had been the 118's first mistake.

or, the one where buck and eddie find out about the 118's bet on their relationship and set out for some well deserved revenge - with athena's help, of course. and a seven-phase revenge plan.

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with every heartbeat i have left by iriswests // @fcntasmas Oneshot || Teen || 8040

Buck and Eddie were expecting to have a little girl.

When their baby girl is born a baby boy, instead, Buck is suddenly confronted with everything he’s been ignoring since he learned about Daniel every time he looks at his son. -- or; buck and eddie have a baby boy, and buck spirals a little bit

————————————————————————

[writerwrabbleswords]

Bongos (but male) (part 2) THANKSGIVING SPECIAL | Logan Howlett X [DILF] Reader

He didn't mind waking up early... This time.

Quick Notes :  Enjoy this thanksgiving special between Logan and DILF! Reader! As a direct continuation of the original ‘Bongos (but male)’ oneshot, I decided to expand a bit more on Reader as well as Logan’s relationship with Reader. Please ignore any spelling mistakes, as I wrote this very early in the morning.

  Story Notes :  1400 words or so, Dilf! Reader referred to as ‘You/Your,’ Reader has twins, Readers children are animal mutants (bear), Readers children are named ‘Jett’ and ‘Hogan,’ Reader is about forty to forty-five, Logan is whipped for Reader, Reader knows how to cook, Reader’s clothes are lightly described, Logan keeps ogling reader, and lastly, lots of fluff and cute moments.

 Logan didn’t want to be awake at seven o’clock in the morning. He preferred to sleep in until noon (or later, if he could get away with it), which meant any time before that left him grumpier than usual. Most of the kids at the institute knew to leave him alone until he’s up on his own, bothering Scott or Hank rather than risk listening to him threaten them. 

  A grumble left the mutant, who ran a hand down his face in irritation; what the hell woke him up? He threw his legs over the side of the bed, a prominent scowl on his face as he glared daggers at the wall. The thought of going back to bed ran through his head, but he was stopped by the sudden smell of food. 

 As much as he wanted to say fuck it, Logan found himself standing up and throwing on a shirt - whatever he could reach - before running a hand through his hair. It smelled like cranberries, shallots, and sweet potatoes. With a deep sigh, he exited his room and made his way towards the kitchen, mumbling complaints to himself the whole way. 

  When he finally entered the institute kitchen, he paused upon seeing you. He hadn’t had a chance to really talk to you since that night a month or two prior, and here you were, sleeves rolled up as you cooked. It made Logan’s mouth water - and it wasn’t because of the food.

  “Morning,” You called out, dragging the man from his thoughts as he blinked, “You wanna’ help?”

  Logans’ scowl had softened considerably, his mood shifting as he shook his head in amusement. Of course you’d be asking him to help with… whatever you were making. He took in the sight of the kitchen; the counters were full of different foods, trays, and utensils, a pot on the stove bubbling as cranberries popped and turned the water red.

  “What’s the occasion?” He asked in return, stepping closer as his eyes roamed your form. You were like a damn treat, dressed in a turtleneck and those slacks he’d seen you in months earlier - the ones that hugged your ass. 

  The mutant let his eyes raise to your face, where your gaze was fixed firmly on him, a charming smile in place with a raised brow. If you could read his thoughts, Logan might just be embarrassed. Maybe. 

 He felt his heart thump at the chuckle you let out, your focus returning to the glass dish of whatever you were making.

  “It’s thanksgiving, Howlett,” You rumbled, amusement coating your words like a damn oil spill.

  The way you said his last name near made his legs weak, and the olders’ mind immediately supplied instances where you’d be saying it in an entirely different way. Those lips parted, eyes closed in pleasure as his hands roamed your-

  He was cut off from his daydream by the sound of feet pattering against the floor, giggles echoing down the halls as two rambunctious children entered the kitchen, their ears twitching as they latched onto your legs.

  “Papa!” Jett called out, his tail twitching as he peered between you and him, “Want berry! Give berry!”

  Right; the twins were bear mutants. Berries were probably one of the few fruits you could get them to eat.

  Despite himself, Logan let a small smile tug at his lips, the expression softening the hard lines of his face as he shook his head. How you dealt with twins, he’d never know. In that moment, however, the mutant let himself simply enjoy your presence.

 His smile grew when you rolled your eyes, your hands dipping into the pot of water as you plucked out two unpopped cranberries. It was clear in your every movement that you loved the boys, letting your hands drop down to press the cranberries into the twins’ mouths. Hogan let out a pleased hum, smacking on the berry with his mouth open as Jett munched on his own. Despite it being rather gross, Logan felt a fondness rise in his chest. 

  The feeling left him feeling off kilter; he didn’t like kids, and yet here he was, thinking about what it’d be like to raise the bear cubs as his own. What a world it was, if he was here with you.

  “I’ve still got to make the turkey stuffing. You know how, Logan?” 

  Your words brought the man from his thoughts, his eyes raising from the two boys as they met your own. Turkey stuffing. He felt a grimace rise to his face - that shit was disgusting. 

  “I know how,” He grumbled, shaking his head in annoyance before he stepped forward, approaching the sink, “don’t like it, though.”

  A laugh left you, the sound suddenly making up for whatever disgusting food you wanted him to make. If he was doing it with you, he found he didn’t mind it as much as he usually would.

  There were growls from the two latched onto your legs, the bear cubs swiping at one another with furrowed brows and angry pouts, drawing his focus for a brief moment. They were cute, Logan admitted begrudgingly, though he kept the thought to himself, unwilling to admit it. Kids were normally a pain in his ass, but Jett and Hogan weren’t as bad as the rest (he ignored that his reasoning was because they were your kids).

  A silence fell over the kitchen, the bear cubs eventually letting go of your legs and running off to, likely, go cause mischief for any other adult awake. You would occasionally look over at him, giving him that smile that made the crows feet by your eyes more noticeable. Each glance sent his way made Logans’ heart beat just a bit faster, and little by little, he found himself loosening up. 

 By the time noon rolled around, he was laughing along to your stories and shaking his head at every stupid dad joke you made. The mutant felt… at home, which was a stupid thing to admit considering he was living at the institute and hadn’t known you for longer than eight hours total. You just had that effect on him - made him feel like he belonged. He didn’t know if that was because he had the hots for you, or if it was just that you were a dad. Logan found he didn’t care about why you made him feel that way; he cared that you did.

  Most classes were out for the day considering it was a holiday, but he knew Rogue and Remy were running a few danger room drills. When one o’clock hit, most of the X-Men had joined you and him in the kitchen, laughter and conversations filling the air with a pleasant atmosphere. For once, he was annoyed with Scott; for once, he didn’t care that Jean was in the room. His attention was on you, not her.

 That stupid crush he’d had on the woman faded into the background, the sight of you cooking with ease and going along with every joke drawing his focus instead. Logan wanted more - more than just a quick fling - more than a one-off thing. He wanted to know you, wanted to wake up with you in his arms. 

  “You know, for a dad, you’ve pulled this off,” He mumbled to you once you’d taken a break from making food, your gaze on one of the many windows and the sun that was slowly sinking.

  The smile you gave him - with that stupidly attractive laugh - made his heart do flips.

  “Figured I should pull my weight,” came your reply, your words light and full of good humor, “Since you folks are caring for my boys.”

  Your eyes were looking outside, but Logans’ attention was only on you,

  “They’re good kids.”

  It fell quiet, the silence comfortable but full of an unmistakable tension. Finally, after what seemed like forever, you turned to look at him,

  “Thanks.” You gave him a look - he didn’t know how to explain it - a look of thoughts and consideration, “For helping.”

  Instead of brushing off your gratitude, something he was well known for doing, Logan shrugged, crossing his arms as he looked out the window,

  “No reason not to.” 

  He grumbled in return.

  “Well, I appreciate it,” He felt his heart thump when you stepped closer to him, his gaze tearing away from outside as he watched you, “A lot.”

  Logan felt himself freeze, the sudden realization of how close you were making his head spin in that funny way only you knew how to do. You stepped closer still, one of your hands reaching out to rest on his arm. He didn’t know how to respond other than a shaky exhale.

 When you leaned closer, barely a foot away from him, the sudden pounding of feet on the floor made you pull away; the bear cubs.

  Damn kids.

[pretty-sparkle-bomb]

Heya! My area just had a really nice snow so it gave me a cute idea.

Can you write a oneshot where fem reader x Bakugo are outside heading back to the dorms or something and the reader initiates a snowball fight? They both like each other but the other doesn't know it but maybe they fall in the snow or something and Katsuki can't hold back his feelings anymore? 🥰🥰

I also really like Kirishima, he doesnt get enough love, so maybe one for him too? (If you want to and have time of course!) Thank you and I hope you have a nice weekend!

Fun fact: I have never touched snow before.

"Cold Hands, Warm Hearts"

Pairing: Bakugo Katsuki x Fem!Reader Genre: Fluff, Mutual Pining

The walk back to the dorms was peaceful, the fresh snowfall muffling the usual noise of the city. Streetlights bathed everything in a soft golden glow, and the air was crisp and clean.

Beside you, Katsuki walked with his hands stuffed in his pockets, his breath visible in the cold air. He wasn’t complaining, but you could tell by the slight furrow of his brows that he was impatient to get inside.

Which made it the perfect time to strike.

You bent down ever so slightly, scooping up a handful of snow, compacting it just enough to make a solid snowball.

And then—

SMACK!

The snowball exploded against Katsuki's shoulder.

He froze. Slowly, very slowly, he turned his head to look at you, eyes wide with disbelief. You, on the other hand, were biting your lip to hold back a giggle, eyes sparkling with mischief.

"The hell was that?"

You shrugged innocently. "A snowball fight, obviously."

"You little—"

You didn’t wait for him to finish before you launched another one, this time aimed at his chest. He dodged it last second, and suddenly, the air changed.

Oh, you were so screwed.

"Alright, shortstack," Bakugo growled, crouching down to grab a handful of snow. His smirk was sharp, his red eyes glinting dangerously. "You wanna play? Let’s play."

You yelped and tried to run, but it was too late. A snowball hit your back, another against your thigh, and before you could retaliate, Katsuki tackled you into the snow with a triumphant cackle.

A very ungraceful squeak left your lips as you landed beneath him, the cold seeping into your clothes. His weight was carefully balanced, so he wasn’t crushing you, but he was definitely trapping you.

The laughter died down, leaving only the sound of your breaths mingling in the crisp air.

You became painfully aware of how close he was—his warm breath fanning against your cheek, his hands bracing on either side of your head. His red eyes were softer now, gazing at you like you were something fragile.

"Y’know," he muttered, his voice low, "you’re a real pain in the ass."

You swallowed, suddenly shy. "Yeah... but you love it."

He let out a short chuckle. "Yeah," he admitted, voice quieter now. "I do."

Your breath hitched.

Then, before you could even process what was happening, his lips were on yours—warm and firm, completely at odds with the freezing cold surrounding you.

It wasn’t rushed or aggressive like you might’ve expected. It was sweet—like he had been holding this in for far too long and couldn’t stand another second without kissing you.

When he finally pulled away, his cheeks were pink—not just from the cold.

"You gonna keep throwin’ snowballs at me now?" he muttered, resting his forehead against yours.

You grinned, eyes twinkling. "Only if you promise to tackle me again."

Damn snowball fights.

Maybe this one wasn't so bad though.

"Snowball Smiles"

Pairing: Kirishima Eijiro x Fem!Reader Genre: Fluff, Mutual Pining

The first snowfall of the season always made Eijiro feel like a kid again. The way the snow crunched under his boots, how the world felt softer under its icy blanket—it was the kind of thing that made him wanna do something fun.

Luckily, you had the same idea.

"Hey, Eiji!"

Eijiro turned at the sound of your voice—just in time for a snowball to smack right into his chest. For a second, he just stood there, blinking in surprise. Then his lips curled into a slow, dangerous grin.

"Ohhh, you are so done."

Before you could react, he was already scooping up a handful of snow. You squeaked and tried to run, but he was fast—he launched a snowball right at your back, laughing as you let out a dramatic gasp.

"Traitor!" you shouted, giggling as you spun around and threw another one.

What followed was a full-on war. Snowballs flew through the air, both of you laughing as you dodged and retaliated. Eijiro cheeks were flushed—not just from the cold, but from how beautiful you looked, all bundled up and laughing, your breath visible in the air.

Then, just as you were about to throw another, he lunged—

And you both went down.

You landed in the snow with a soft oof, Kirishima’s arms wrapped around you protectively as he cushioned the fall.

For a moment, everything stilled.

You were so close. Your nose was pink from the cold, your lips slightly parted in surprise, eyes wide as you looked up at him.

And damn, if he wasn’t already head over heels, this moment sealed it.

"...Uh," he started, voice unusually soft. "Guess I win, huh?"

You raised a brow. "You call this winning?"

"Yeah," he murmured, gaze dropping to your lips for just a second before flicking back to your eyes. "Because now I don’t have to hold back anymore."

Then he kissed you.

It was warm and a little clumsy, but who was complaining? His lips were slightly chapped from the cold, but you didn’t care—not when he kissed you like he meant it, like he had been waiting for this for so long.

When he pulled back, his grin was blinding.

"So, uh… do I still gotta throw another snowball, or can we just stay like this for a bit?"

You giggled, looping your arms around his neck. "I think we can stay like this for a bit."

And just like that, Kirishima decided—snowball fights? Best thing ever.

This kinda melts my heart🎀

[cc-cobalt-1043]

Comforting words can go a long way (A sonic 3 oneshot):

It was late now at the Wachowski campsite, Tom, Maddie, Sonic and Knuckles had drifted off to sleep hours ago but despite his best efforts Tails couldn't sleep.

He could only think of one thing...Stone.

Tails couldn't think of why, but despite being Robotnik's lackey Tails had never thought of him as a particularly bad person, not only had he seemed genuinely horrified when he heard about Gerald Robotnik's plans for Earth, but the man had tried to shield him when Shadow attacked them...that had to count for something right.

After tossing and turning for a good while now and still unable to sleep he got up with a irritated huff and grabbed his backpack walking out the tent.

Sitting down near the now dead campfire he pulled out his Miles electric and tapped away at it.

After several minutes of tapping away he located Stone.

The man was located at Kings Cross Station in London, however according to the schedules no trains were departing for several hours and apparently Stone's signal had been stationary for a few hours now.

Deciding he needed to do something, anything to help the grieving man Tails pulled out a ring he'd been keeping for emergencies he threw it and stepped through.

London:

Stone was sitting on a bench at Kings Cross, the station was deathly silent, the usual trains weren't running at this time, Stone noticed several parked in the platforms but they weren't the reason for him being there.

He was looking up at the stars as well as the now damaged moon, he couldn't get his thought of the doctor.

People only saw them as two madmen but to him Ivo Robotnik was a friend...yes a very very flawed friend, but one nonetheless, the two having met back when Stone was in the military, the two having formed something of a partnerships, neither he nor Ivo had been able to figure out what they were and now they clearly never would.

"Erm, excuse me." A tiny voice said.

Taken by surprise Stone looked and saw the young Fox, Tails or something looking at him with a pair of bright cyan eyes.

Stone blinked not sure if he was hallucinating but after a moment he realised he mustn't be as the fox kit was still here.

"Not to be rude, but how did you get in here?" Stone asked.

"I used a ring, how did you get here?" Tails asked blinking innocently at him.

"That's for me to know and you to find out." Stone said simply.

He looked at Tails who simply stared at him.

"So what are you doing here...Tails was it?" Stone asked.

Tails nodded.

"Technically it's Miles, but you can call me Tails." Tails told him.

Stone nodded.

"So Tails, what brings you to merry old London?" Stone asked.

"I wanted to see you, make sure you were ok." Tails said.

"Oh I'm just fine, all lollipops and rainbows." Stone said bitterly.

"I may be a kid but I can recognise sarcasm you know." Tails said crossing his arms and looking at him with a pout that even Stone thought looked adorable on the kits face.

"Alright fine I'll level with you kid, I've just lost the man I loved over some stupid thing I barely know the details of, he was the first person who actually treated me with some level of respect after I withdrew from Afghanistan and yeah you know what, maybe he was kinda crazy, and maybe he was a bit of a jerk at times but we had each other and that was enough, I loved him kid and now without I'm completely lost and confused, do you have any idea what that's like Tails." Stone snapped.

He looked at the fox seeing his tails had wilted and ears drooped back and he frowned.

"Sorry kid, I didn't mean to go all dark and gloomy on you." Stone said.

"Actually I kinda get it, when I was younger I was always picked on for my extra tail and my smarts, even my own parents had abandoned me by the time I was three." Tails said.

Stone grimaced. "Wow, that's horrible." He said.

"Well I've been staying with Sonic, Knuckles and my mom and dad for a while now they took me in and loved me regardless of my flaws, but if I lost then I guess I'd feel like you do right now, I know it's probably not what you want to hear right now, I just want you to know I understand." Tails are.

Stone looked at the kid in front of him, he would be lying if he said the kid's statement hadn't resonated with his own lonely childhood.

"Sorry, didn't mean to give you my life story." Tails apologised.

Stone shrugged.

"No Tails, that actually did help, guess we have more in common than we thought." Stone said.

"I guess." Tails said.

Just then the Fox let out a very wide yawn, it was then Stone noticed just how late it was, he looked at Tails who looked absolutely exhausted, if he was right about how young the kit was he should have been in bed and fast asleep hours ago.

"You have a way home right?" Stone asked.

Tails suddenly realised he hadnt grabbed a spare ring and face-palmed when he realised his error.

Stone let out an amused snort.

"I'll give you a ride home, want me to carry you?" He asked.

"Tha---s." Tails said, the rest being drowned out by another almighty yawn and he climbed onto the mans shoulders.

Stone simply snorted again and made his way out of the station and towards crab-bot as Ivo had dubbed it.

Thankfully the streets were quiet even by London's standards so thankfully they got very few looks.

Stone wasn't sure when but at some point the kit fell asleep on his shoulders.

The Fox's soft snores echoed in Stone's ears as he walked and not even he could hide his smile at the child's innocence, expecially when the world seemed so determined to snatch it from him.

They got to the crab-bot and Stone set the snoozing fox down in the co-pilot seat, the kid shuffling slightly in his sleep using one of his tails as an improvised pillow.

Stone smiled at the adorable sight before setting course for Green Hills.

By the time they got there it was early morning and when they got to the campsite the Wachowskis were staying at Stone could see the kit's family looking for him.

They certainly weren't expecting to see Stone appear with said Fox snuggled up in his arms.

"Relax, I'm just bringing him home." Stone said seeing the alert looks on Tom, Knuckles and Sonic's faces.

He handed Tails over to Maddie who took the sleeping fox with a much kinder look than the others were giving him.

Tails let out a tiny yawn and groggily opened his eyes looking at Maddie with a sleepy smile.

"Hi mama." He mumbled sleepily cuddling into her.

"Hi pumpkin." Maddie cooed before heading to the kids tent with the exhausted fox, the two talking in hushed whispers.

Stone turned around and was about to leave when he saw Sonic in front of him.

"What were you doing with Tails?" The blue hedgehog demanded.

"Nothing, he came to me, we had a chat and he couldn't get home so I gave him a lift." Stone said truthfully, well he was hardly lying was he.

Sonic gave him a look but seeing no trace of a lie nodded.

"Well, thanks for bringing him back...and look I'm sorry about Eggman, yeah I didn't particularly like him, but he did the right thing in the end, and despite our checkered past...I guess I can respect him for that." Sonic said.

Stone nodded.

"Thanks Sonic...you've got a good brother there, take care of him." Stone said.

Sonic nodded and with a brief smile Stone climbed into the crab-bot and departed the Wachowski campsite.