#missions and he was stuck doing grunt work

[ovcii-doodles]

[REDACTED]: You're writing down an awful lot there. Counselor: Just my observations. Does this evaluation make you...anxious?

washed hands interview my beloved

[gay-dorito-dust]

Imagine going on adventures with Logan and Deadpool and you’re the voice of reason behind them 😆 Deapool the idiot with hot headed Wolverine that reader has to keep in check all the time

It’s not easy being the only person with common sense in this rag tag trio of yours.

^^ this is literally you babysitting two grown ass men that need to be kept on leashes and separated from one another in case they fight, again.

You are overworked and underpaid to be dealing with this shit, but there was no one else who had the patience for Wade nor the compassion and empathy for Logan as you did.

So unfortunately you were stuck with them for every mission given but despite how vastly different and incompatible some of you were -*cough* Logan and Wade *cough*- you three worked well enough together that you were a force to be reckoned with.

You were forced to face situations where wade would be pissing Logan off to the point his claws were out, and you had to pat the rugged man on his shoulder, wait for him to look at you as you pointed towards his claws;

‘Them. Away. Now.’ -you.

Wolverine: *grunts*

You: don’t give me attitude, put. them. away. Now.

Wade: ohhh Logan’s in trouble!

You would then look at Wade before pointing at him like a disappointed parent: and you, stop pissing him off if you like to keep your dick where it is! Or so help god me I’ll cut it off myself!

Wade: 😶

Wolverine: *smirks and puts the claws away*

You were their voice of reason, their angel on their shoulder, their peace keeper and confidant and they respect you for keeping up with their shit. However it wouldn’t be much like Logan and Wade to make your life easy as you often had to stand between the two as a barrier of sorts to keep them from killing each other.

When in actuality they are flipping each other off behind your back and it wasn’t until Logan slapped wades hand away, causing him to say ‘ow’ did you look between the two of them as they acted like they weren’t acting like children a few moments ago.

You: I’m so sorry you’ll have to excuse them.

*Meanwhile Wade and Logan fighting, stabbing each other in the balls in the background*

You: WOULD YOU TWO STOP FUCKING FIGHTING FOR FIVE MINUTES!!!

Wade and Logan; *immediately stop and point at each other* he started it!

They were the reason you had grey hairs at an early age you swore this to anyone who’d listen. They were a pain in your ass, thorn in your side and a headache waiting to happen but the moment you were threatened, Wade and Logan put aside their differences and acted accordingly by standing protectively in front of you.

Logan: I would shut the fuck up if I were you bub.

Wade: oh look what you did, you made daddy angry.

Logan and you looking at Wade: 🤨😐

You: can you not make everything into a sex joke?

Wade, booping you on the nose; it comes with the territory peanut.

Logan: be serious for fucking once, they’ve just got threatened!

Wade: you don’t think I want our pookie to get hurt? (why do I think he’d say pookie unironically)

You: kill me now and end my misery. Please someone, anyone. Preferably pyro. (He’s hot, literally and figuratively)

Being stuck with Logan and wolverine is a curse and a blessing at the same time, which one you want to focus on more is up to you. However you three were incredibly loyal to each other, even if you do piss each other off from time to time, but you’d never betray one another for it wasn’t an option.

You were stuck with these two whether you liked it or not.

[cherrymoon4]

Suguru hates the taste of curses. He hates the aftertaste that persists in his mouth, that doesn’t leave no matter how hard he brushes his teeth or how much sickening sweet candy Satoru gives him.

Even when hours pass, no matter how many boiling hot showers he takes, nothing takes away the disgusting feeling that swallowing down curse after curse brings.

He has tried everything, every single thing that comes to mind to not have the aftertaste of a vomit soaked rag stuck to him for hours.

But nothing works, he is sure of that, he reminds himself as he leans over the bathroom sink, trying not to throw up after another “successful” mission and another curse swallowed.

As he takes deep breaths, trying to come up with something, anything, that could help him, he hears a knock on the door, followed by your gentle voice asking if he’s okay.

He’s always seen you as one of his closest friends, the one that is there for when he feels like no one can help him; when he knows Shoko is too busy with her own shit, and Satoru could only try to come up with a joke and probably wouldn’t take him seriously, he knows that the one he can always turn to is you.

Soft, sweet little you. Too kind for your own good, with a heart too big for your petite form. So selfless, always worrying over ‘Sugu’ even when he doesn’t deserve it, even when he pushes you away, not wanting to stain your pure self.

Just like right now, as he contemplates whether to let you in or tell you to leave. He pictures your pretty face in his mind, how it probably is adorned with worry and concern, your doe eyes big and glassy.

His heart clenches at the thought of you walking away all sad after he told you to leave. He can’t bring himself to push you away.

So he tells you come in, he just wanted to reassure you after all. But when he sees you coming in and rushing to check him over for any injuries, clad in your fluffy pajamas and fuzzy socks, his mind fills with images of him doing everything but reassuring you.

And that’s how he discovers that there is, in fact, something that can help him out.

He knows that this is all he needs, your pretty cunt in his face is where he belongs.

Your plushy thighs around his head and your sweet juices smeared on his cheeks are just what he needs to forget everything about curses and the awful feeling that they leave him with.

He reprimands you for keeping your heavenly pussy from him all this time; how could you be so selfish :(

He laps at your folds like a starved man, moaning in your cunt like he’s the one getting eaten out. And he’s so messy too! After all, how could he not be when he finally found the perfect treat to solve his problem?

“Fuck sweetheart, you’re such a messy girl mh?” he grunts, like he’s not the one turning his head side to side to smear your juices all over his face.

“This pretty pussy loves me so much, doesn’t she? Gushin’ around my tongue like that, bet it wants me to fill her up too..” he says as he toys with your puffy pussy and swollen clit, looking up to see you all dumb and stupid, babbling something about how it’s “t-too much!”.

But you clearly don’t know what you need, not when your hole keeps getting wetter and wetter.

“It’s not too much, silly girl. You can take it, I know you can. You want your Sugu’ to be happy, don’t you baby? You wanna be my good girl, yeah?”

And how can you deny him? You do want to be his good girl, his best girl!

So you spread your legs wider for him and let him lap at your messy hole, and you don’t even complain when you feel his thick cock prodding at your entrance, stretching your pussy nice and full :3

hello ^^ ( thank you sososo much for the love on the other posts! send me requests if you want :P )

[hahaifolded]

141 x POC!GN Intelligence Operative - Joint Mission Author's Notes: This was supposed to be short but I had an epiphany after I finished Warnings: MDNI, Angst

This was a standard joint mission. Two teams, one task, in and out, and it's done. So why did John Price feel so nervous?

The mission seemed pretty straightforward and the new guys seemed formidable. Not at the same caliber as the 141, but they're getting there.

Really, everything looks fine, so why is he nervous?

But it didn't matter as he pushes his concern to the side as he greets the team of three on the tarmac. After some quick introductions, he guides the trio to the conference room where the rest of his team waits.

As they got closer, John felt his heart beating faster and faster. What was going on with him?

And he wasn't the only one as Johnny also had a bad feeling about this mission. However, unlike his captain, he actually voiced his concerns out loud.

"And why were we paired up with these guys again?" the Scotsman asks for the 5th time today. Ghost glares at him while Kyle groans. Gaz shoots you a quick glance to see if that had caught your attention. It didn't.

"I mean, why couldn't we get Farah and Alex to help us on this or even Los Vaqueros?" Soap adds.

"Laswell's orders," Kyle grunts out.

Honestly, the fellow Sergeant wasn't sure what the concern was. He could tell Price was also feeling something, but what? Laswell has never led them astray so this should turn out fine, right? The last time Laswell sent someone, things started out perfectly. As long as the 141 can act right, then things should go swimmingly.

Well, after first introductions, Kyle realizes that they're not the ones that need to act right. It's the new guys. Gaz caught the extra attention you got from the three.

"Sergeant Keegan P. Russ, at your service."

"Sergeant Kim Hong-jin, but you can call me Horangi."

"Lieutenant Nikto."

That last one would not have been so bad if you weren't the only one who got a handshake from the Russian.

Kyle knew he wasn't the only one to notice as he caught Ghost clenching his fist.

And Ghost was not going to let you go without a fight.

"Isn't there supposed to be four of you? Where's your captain?" he asks. Ghost stands tall and stares them down.

The three don't react as they take a seat at the table. It isn't until the three have settled in their seats that one of them speaks up.

"Our Captain already talked to yours so don't worry about it," Keegan replies. He stares back at Ghost, clearly not intimidated by the British Lieutenant.

"Great, so we're stuck with a Yankee, a gambling addict, and a commie," Ghost groans out.

"That's enough," you bark out. You shoot an incredulous look at the Lieutenant who immediately buckles down. You order everyone to take a seat so you can start your presentation. "The faster we get this done, the faster I can get back to work and you guys can continue whatever this is," you chastise.

The new team immediately voices their agreement which made Ghost's blood boil.

As you go over the details of the mission, Price looks around the room and catches the way the three new soldiers stared at you. Something in their eyes didn't sit right with him. It looked way too familiar, it almost reminded him of his bo... oh hell no.

He calls out your name and says, "you know what, I can take it from here." He pushes his chair out and places his hands on his knees, getting ready to stand up. However, before he can even get up, you immediately speak up.

"What do you think you're doing?" You ask. You're clearly not impressed.

Price feels the energy in the room shift. He looks at you sheepishly and repeats himself. "I can finish it from here."

You scoff. "Captain Price," you slowly say, "what's my position here?"

"The 141's Intelligence Operative."

"Close, the 141's temporary Intelligence Operative," you correct him. John feels his heart clench. You fail to notice his heartbreak and continue, "and what's my role as the Intelligence Operative?"

"Deal with anything and everything that has to do with intelligence. I think I got it, I'm--"

"No, no, no. I'm not done," you bite back. You're obviously annoyed. It seemed like you were annoyed most days here. "And this presentation, what is it about?"

"Intelligence surrounding our newest mission," John grumbles out.

"Okay, okay. So, if this presentation has to do with intelligence, who should do it?" You stare at him, eyes wide, waiting for an answer.

Horangi raises his hand which catches you off guard. "Yes, Sergeant Kim." Now you're sheepish, embarrassed that the new guys had to see you like this.

"Please, call me Horangi," he assures you. Much to John's dismay, that seemed to ease your concerns. "If I may, I think the answer that you're looking for and your captain forgot is that you should be doing this presentation, and I completely agree." Despite your straight face, your eyes glowed with content. You thanked Sergeant Kim and turned your attention back to Price.

"Is that okay with you Captain? May I continue?"

John just nods, feeling absolutely embarrassed and ashamed with himself. What the fuck was he thinking?

As you continue with your presentation, the 141 oscillate their attention from you to the new guys. Ghost catches the gentle look in Nikto's eyes. Johnny recognizes the look of admiration on the Keegan's face and Kyle notices the excitement in Horangi's eyes. And Price finally understands the root of his worries as he realizes that this new task force is looking at you the exact same way that you used to look at them.

It seemed like the one thing that the boys were avoiding could very much happen now and it would all be their fault.

Word Count: 980

More Thoughts - Next Thought

[rainrot4me]

Sick Days

Summary: The Creepypasta guys are feeling a little under the weather. You, their lovely partner, spend the day taking care of them (whether they like it or not).

Characters: {Separate} Jeff the Killer x Reader, Ticci Toby x Reader, Masky x Reader

TW: Very domestic and fluffy, slight bickering

Words: 6.7k

A/N: Sorry for the delay! More Christmas-themed works coming out shortly!

Seven days of pure snowfall and ice.

It had snowed a lot—a thick blanket of white across the forest deep enough to get your boots stuck in. Winter always seemed to roll around the Slenderwoods a little later in the year, but when it did, it was brutal. And, with so much pristine white covering the ground, the mansion was on full display in contrast to the grayed-out trees. 

Slenderman gave his orders. This meant longer missions, longer days in the frigid temperatures, and even longer nights recovering. You would think natural-born killers would have some inkling of instinct to keep themselves alive, but when they all returned practically half-dead… 

Thick jackets and worn shoes piled by the door, somehow still defrosting and leaving obnoxious puddles of water wherever you stepped. Dusty counters were littered with piles of nasty food and dishes, laundry untouched (that wasn’t unusual anyway), and a serious lack of arguing or hysterical fighting between the walls (that was unusual). It seems the weather hadn’t only brought down health, but moods too.

So, when things turn bad in the mansion, where do they end up? 

Your front door.

Jeff the Killer ▸

Jeff knocked nonstop until you opened your door, a confused look as to what in the world the killer could need. It wasn’t unusual for Jeff to stop by unannounced; he had made himself at home in your house a long time ago, but it was unusual for him to show up in the middle of the afternoon (broad daylight and all). 

“Jeffrey? Are you alright?” Glancing behind him, you could see where his boots made imprints on the fresh snow covering your sidewalk, dusty snowflakes melting in his dark hair. 

But, finally glancing up to meet his gaze, you could see it.

He looked terrible. More so than usual. Skin raw-red from the cold winds whipping at him, hair tangled, and head pounding in time with his too-loud heartbeat. You knew about the missions, and you knew what being in the cold for too long could do, you just didn’t know someone like Jeff could even get sick.

Stepping aside, Jeff trailed into your home, shoulders hunched so low you thought he was trying to fall over. All he gave you were hoarse grunts and shaky nods as you helped him strip his heavy clothes, shaking the snow from the sleeves onto the doormat outside. By the time you turned around, Jeff was already halfway down the hallway towards your bedroom.

The killer was so exhausted he didn’t even get his muddy boots off before he was face down into the pillows and oblivious to the world. 

Given the grueling retreat he had just returned from, this would have been a reasonable response. But, as his partner, you knew better than most: Jeff never sleeps, especially when he has a fresh mission to brag about. It only took his ragged coughing and blatant pitiful state to figure out you were going to have to help him.

The can of chicken noodle soup you poured into a bowl, then to the microwave, came out steaming hot. You blew on the contents; the smell was nice as you reached for a spoon, and you made a mental note that you would also need to clean his dirty clothes still caked in mud and (hopefully not his) blood. A small towel under the bowl, and you were making your way down the hall. 

Jeff hadn’t even bothered to shut the door; his limp body spread across your mattress like a corpse. He covered his head with a pillow, gripping the fabric and muffling the sputtering snores laced with evident sickness. You had only left him alone to make the soup for a couple of minutes, but that seemed to be enough to knock him out.

Jeff never slept, only when his body really needed it. But right now, his body also really, really needed something in its stomach besides mucus. You set the bowl on your nightstand before slowly kneeling on the bed. What do they say about waking a beast? You couldn’t remember. 

You cringed, teeth gritted as you gently placed your flat hand onto his back. His skin was burning, heat practically radiating from him as you easily rubbed up and down his spine. He didn’t even budge, the only sign of life being the gentle rising and falling of his back as he snored into the fabric of his pillows. You ran your hand higher, fingers rubbing across his shoulders and dipping to the arch of his shoulder blades until you felt his arms slowly shift.

His breathing faltered, consciousness rolling back into him as you shifted, letting one leg dangle off the bed as you sat beside him.

“Mhhmn…” He groaned, stiffly turning his face towards you and glaring through bloodshot eyes. You nearly choked out a laugh, scanning his flushed face and horrible eye bags, appearing even more dead than he normally did. It took the killer a minute to register what was happening, his messy bangs sticking to his forehead and matting wildly; it was evident he could’ve slept for the rest of the day and then some. 

But it was only 3 pm, and the sun shining through his curtains was made even worse by the reflection of the snow. He needed to eat; there was no telling how much he had worn himself down this past week. Jeff was never very good at self-preservation, especially when you had become a net to fall back on.

“Hey man… You wanna try and eat somethin’?” You tried to keep your voice low, the killer rolling onto his back and rubbing his hands over his face. He grunted, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers and slowly blinking at the ceiling. 

He nodded.

Reaching for the still-steaming bowl, you cupped the contents in your hands, shifting further onto the bed. Jeff shifted upwards, slowly but surely. It was odd. You had witnessed this man jump fencelines and tackle men double his size, but give him a fever and a headache that can’t be numbed out with alcohol, and suddenly he’s defenseless. You could’ve laughed, taunted him like he often did when you weren’t feeling hot, say something to get his gears going… 

But he just looked so… pitiful. 

One hand cupped under the bowl, you reached the other out, delivering soft touches with the back of your hand on his forehead. Jeff watched through tired eyes, blinking slowly when your fingers brushed his sweat-damp bangs out of his face, leaning closer to your every touch.

Always loud-mouthed and quick to anger, but right now, he was just calm. His body refused to move as quickly as he wanted it to, and his head was far too foggy with nausea to even consider pushing your helpful hand away. So, he just accepted it. Reluctantly, in his mind, but accepted it nonetheless.

“You don’t look so hot. What happened out there?” You paced the words slowly, taking the spoon in your hand and collecting a bit of the soup before bringing it to his pale lips. Jeff closed his eyes when he took the spoonful in his mouth, drinking the warm broth before letting you bring it back to the bowl for another. 

“Forgot to bring extra clothes… Hada’ reuse the same wet shit every day…” His voice was so hoarse, too. He cleared his throat, letting you spoon him another drink of the soup before leaning his head back on the headboard. He sounded like he had been sucking down nothing but cold air, throat raw and scratchy with the sinus infection he was harboring. 

A warm shower? Or maybe bringing him to sit in front of the fireplace you had crackling in the living room? You weren’t sure what he needed, but you knew he needed to sweat out this fever before it became a real problem. He reached for the bowl, cupping the towel underneath to set it in his lap before continuing to fish spoonfuls. The warmth of the soup probably did wonders for his sore throat.

You went to stand, pressing off of the bed before a rough hand wrapped around your wrist. Glancing down, Jeff was tugging you back towards him, knotted brows giving a silent question as to why you were leaving him. You smiled, kneeling back on the mattress to place a quick kiss on his way-too-warm forehead. “I’m starting you a bath, alright? Finish your soup.”

Another quick kiss and he was letting your wrist go, satisfied with your answer. The silence was awkward, but vulnerable and quiet. Jeff had no choice but to let you care for him; something about that made your heart so full.

Roaming to the bathroom, you pushed the curtain to the tub back and flipped the faucet all the way hot. Water filled slowly as you rummaged through the cabinet behind your sink mirror, reading various drugstore medicines and cough syrups before shaking a handful of sinus and head cold pills into your hand. 

You heard the gentle patter of bare feet stepping onto the tile of the bathroom just in time to turn off the running water, the tub steaming with scalding water. Arms wrapped around your middle gently as you shut the cabinet, Jeff’s nose burying into the crook of your neck as he fell limp against your back.

“Sorry…” He mumbled, his face against your skin as he breathed deep, taking in your smell. You smiled, reaching back to brush his hair back before playing yet another kiss on his warm forehead. “Hush. You need to get better, and that mansion is no place to relax. Don’t worry about it.” Despite reassuring him, Jeff still held a defeated look.

Dropping the medicine onto your sink counter, you turned to help him take off his shirt, his hands doing their best to hold onto your arms the entire time. Clingy. 

“I got it.” He huffed, tossing his shirt to the ground.

“I know you do.” You smiled up at him. You undid his belt anyway, undressing him the rest of the way with little protest. There was no flirtatious comment, no sly touches, just a weak, sick boy who wasn’t used to being this vulnerable. It was sweet.

Jeff stepped into the bath, and you left him to get a cup of water. He drank the pills down, skin blotching red with the heat of the water, but at least he looked more relaxed. He was so lengthy, he had to bend his knees to fit comfortably, which you laughed at.

You knelt beside the tub, using that same cup to collect water and rinse his hair. You ran your fingers through the messy strands, his quiet groans making you smile as you poured a small dab of shampoo onto the palm of your hand. Tired eyes watched you carefully when you began to scrub his head, lathering the shampoo between the strands and massaging his scalp. He was falling apart underneath you, soapy bubbles drifting into the water while you washed him off. 

His hands cupped your own, kissing your wrists. He was being so gentle, it almost gave you whiplash. There was no off comment about you catering to him, or being a jerk just for the hell of it; he was being oddly sweet. Maybe his being sick wasn’t so bad.

Until you zoned back into his coughing fit, strained coughs that looked like they physically hurt. You rinsed his hair, careful not to get the soapy water into the gashes on his face as he settled down.

You wiped the water from his face, his clammy skin wet under your hands as you went to stand. Jeff leaned back, letting his head rest against the wall of the tub while you collected his clothes, letting him know you’d be right back.

You needed to do laundry anyway, so grabbing the rest of the killer’s dirty clothing and tossing them into your load was easy enough. They reeked of dirt and outside, splotches of dried blood staining the sleeves of his hoodie. You didn’t want to know about the mission; you didn’t want to know what in the hell caused these stains, but you were sure he’d tell you sometime anyway.

Starting the machine, you shuffled back to your room, rummaging through your drawers for something that the killer could wear. You ended up on a t-shirt that was baggy on you but would fit him perfectly, a pair of boxers he left the last time he was here and sweatpants that would be good enough until his clothes were dry.

You stepped back into the bathroom, clothes in hand, and Jeff turned to look up at you. He had already cleaned himself off, water slowly draining from the tub as you helped him climb out. “Feel better?”

He nodded, reaching for the towels you had hanging off the edge of the tub and drying himself off. You set the clothes down, hands reaching to dry off his hair as he dressed himself. 

You knew it had to feel so much better to be in clean clothes, let alone something that wasn’t jeans and a hoodie riddled with filth. Jeff seemed content enough, but more than anything, he looked tired. Exhausted.

“Alright, time for bed.” The sun was just starting to set outside your window, thick orange light flooding through the curtains as Jeff followed you back into the bedroom. You wouldn’t be going to sleep for some time, but you were sure the killer would be out in minutes.

Pulling back the sheets of your bed, Jeff climbed in, body nearly giving out as soon as his weak body got under the warm covers. “I’ll let you rest, tell me if you need anythin-”

Jeff didn’t give you the chance, barely getting a foot away from the bed before he was dragging you in too. You smiled, his arms wrapping around your waist and throwing the covers over the two of you. “Aw man, you’re gonna get me sick-”

You couldn’t help but smile as Jeff delivered sickly sweet kisses across your cheeks, lying you both down as his arms caged you in, your head falling onto his shoulder. “Then I guess we’ll just have to be sick together then, baby.” You knew a sly smile would break out of him sooner or later.

You both relaxed into each other, wrapping the covers tight as the sun set slowly against the pretty snow. The fireplace still crackled in your living room, the whole house warm compared to the brutal cold Jeff had been forced into days before. 

Running your hands through his now-clean hair, Jeff groaned, practically purring when his eyes began to close, tight grip around your back faltering slightly as you realized the sinus meds were finally kicking in, that dazed look behind his expression. As if he wasn’t tired enough, this would have him knocked for the whole next day.

It didn’t matter to you, you’d be there tomorrow to cater to him too, taking care of the killer who rarely ever let himself go like this. 

Planting one last kiss on his jaw, you felt his chest slowly rise and fall, gentle snores dragging out underneath you. Leaning back, you grabbed the remote to your TV off the nightstand, turning some show you needed to catch up on with low volume. You realized you needed to relax too, the winter season having you run a mile a minute, so this would be a good excuse to worry about something other than your crazy life.

With one final tug on the back of your shirt, you let your own eyes close, the sun finally set as a pretty blanket of dark sky finally shown through the window.

“G’night [Y/N]…”

-

Jeff was there by your side when you became sick the week after, a terrible fever that wouldn't break no matter how many baths or rags he placed on your forehead.

He felt bad, sure, but he felt even better that he got to make fun of your terribly red face and nasty cough that he didn’t have to deal with anymore.

Even sick, you somehow managed to win every argument or put the killer back in his place. You made him repay his stupidness with healthy fast-food runs and kisses. He quickly learned to keep his mouth shut. 

In sickness and in health, you guess.

Ticci Toby ▸

Technically, Toby couldn’t feel the pain of being sick.

He never got the sting of a sore throat, or the ache behind your ears when you sneezed too much, or even the pounding head and body aches that kept people from getting up. No, he bragged about never being defeated by strep throat or the flu.

But what he did feel was the pressure, and the fatigue, and the awful way your stomach just refused to hold down any solids.

So, when it got so bad he couldn’t shove it aside anymore to complete another mission, he found himself knocking on your door.

And he was not happy about it.

“Toby, you have got to lie down.” You huffed, his limp arms in your hands as you tried and failed to drag him towards your bedroom. He was acting as if he couldn’t walk, feet glued to their respective spots in your kitchen. The brunette always played a little childish, but right now he was just being plain juvenile.

“Nah. I just swung by to gra- grab some food, there’s nothing good at th- the mansion.” Even as you held him, the boy still browsed your cabinets and pantry for snacks. You would have been more than happy to offer, but Toby had already eaten a bowl of your chili leftovers, two bags of chips, and was going for pastries next. It was like being sick turned him into a human vacuum.

“I know, but you’re freezing, hun. Your face is so red it looks like you’re going to explode. You need to get under some covers.” Toby could blame that on lying face-down in the snow for an hour, completely oblivious to the pin-pricking sharpness of the cold on his cheeks, or the frostbite that was forming at the edge of his nose. He never felt a thing, completely lost in the weightless blanket of powder underneath him. He would’ve stayed there another hour or two if Tim hadn’t jerked him up and yelled at him for being an idiot.

But now he was here, sick as a dog and getting harassed by his partner who was just trying to help. Tim was sick at the mansion, too. What luck.

“I’m fine. It’s just a co-cold or something. Quit baby- babying me.” Toby couldn’t tell if it was his tics or the uncontrollable shakiness in his hands, but he dropped a pack of crackers he’d fished out of your pantry. He groaned in frustration, crouching down to grab them, but you snatched the package up first.

“You’re not fine, Toby. You’re pale as a ghost, your voice is raspier than usual, and you can’t even hold onto a pack of crackers. Just let me help you.” You set the crackers on the counter and put your hands on your hips, glaring down at him. He glared right back, his dark eyes narrowed and defiant.

“Don’t ne- need help,” he muttered, though the stubborn edge in his voice faltered as another violent shiver racked his body. He clutched his arms around himself, but you could see how badly his fingers trembled. The eye-roll you delivered him could kill. 

“Yes, you do. Come on, Toby. Just this once, let me take care of you.” Your tone softened, and you crouched down so you were at eye level with him. “You’re not going to get better if you keep ignoring yourself like this.”

He hesitated, his gaze flickering away from yours. For all his bravado, Toby wasn’t immune to the weight of your concern. You perceived the world differently than he did, concerned with the trivial things of sickness or relaxation, while the brunette hardly cared if his skin was rotting off (it was). Finally, with a heavy sigh, he muttered, “Fine. But only for a little while.”

“Thank you.” You stood and held out your hand to him. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

Toby reluctantly took your hand, and you helped him to his feet. He leaned on you more than he probably realized, his steps unsteady as you guided him to your bedroom. Once there, you pulled back the blankets and helped him sit down on the edge of the bed. In the light of snow through your window, you really got a good look at just how pale he was, lips a subtle shade of purple that would’ve had any normal boy in a hospital.

You helped him shed his ragged jacket, kicking off his boots until he was in the barest clothes he had stumbled into your house with. 

“Alright, lie down,” you instructed, gently pushing on his shoulder. He grumbled something under his breath but complied, sinking into the mattress with a groan. You pulled the blankets up over him, tucking them around his shoulders.

“This is stu- stupid,” he muttered, his voice muffled by the pillow. He was facedown, something so childish, like a kid upset his mom was making him go to school. 

“It’s not stupid. It’s called taking care of yourself,” you replied, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. “Now, stay put. I’m going to get you some water and medicine.”

He didn’t respond, his eyes were already closed. You smiled softly, relief washing over you as you left the room. Finally, he was letting you help. Now all you had to do was nurse him back to health—and maybe convince him that it was okay to lean on someone else every once in a while.

-

The next few days were a blur of soup, medicine, and relentless efforts to keep Toby in bed. He protested at every turn, grumbling about how he didn’t need to be babied, but his body betrayed him. The fever left him weak and sluggish, his usual energy reduced to mere fragments of what it once was. After having to literally calm him down with a healthy dose of cough medicine, he finally stopped berating you.

“This is the worst,” Toby groaned, his voice hoarse as he sank deeper into the pile of blankets you’d tucked around him. His hair was a mess, sticking up in every direction, and his cheeks were flushed from the lingering fever. What started as cold chills and sickly paleness had sprung into a hot mess of trying to break the fever the brunette wasn’t aware he had. Once his body actually laid down, got some medicine, and got under some warmth, it finally started trying to heal itself. The only good thing about this was his body was so busy trying not to combust that his tics were on the back burner. His muscles were so weak, they really didn’t hold the energy.

“You’re getting better,” you reassured him, sitting on the edge of the bed with a bowl of soup in your hands. “Here, eat this. You need to keep your strength up.”

He eyed the bowl with disdain but reluctantly took it from you. “You’re en- enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Enjoying what?” you asked, feigning innocence.

“Bossing me around.” He smirked weakly, but it lacked his usual snarky bite.

“Maybe a little,” you admitted with a grin. “But only because it’s for your own good.”

Toby rolled his eyes but started eating the soup anyway. You watched him carefully, noting the way his hands shook less than they had the day before. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

By the third day, the fever broke. Toby woke up looking more like himself, his energy slowly returning. He still tried to downplay how sick he’d been, but you caught the gratitude in his eyes when he thought you weren’t looking.

“Thanks,” he mumbled one evening, leaning against the doorway as you cleaned up the kitchen. He was wearing one of your hoodies, the sleeves too short for his arms, but all of his dirt-covered clothes were in the middle of a wash.

“For what?” you asked, turning to face him.

“For... y’know. Put- Putting up with me. Helping m- me.” He rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze fixed on the floor. Even with sickness deteriorating, that pink still lingered in his pale cheeks. “I’m not good at this kind of stuff.”

“You don’t have to be,” you said softly, walking over to him. “That’s what I’m here for. Next time, don’t wait until you’re half-dead to ask for help, okay? One day you’re going to kill yourself just because you’re stubborn.”

He huffed a laugh, the sound light and genuine. “Impossible.”

“Toby.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll t- try.”

“Good.” You smiled, reaching out to cup his cheek, running your fingers across the scars that littered the skin. He cupped your hand, tired eyes roaming your features as he leaned in, pressing a firm kiss on your forehead. It was only when you reached up to ruffle his hair that he swatted your hand away, but your smile didn’t falter.

-

As the days went on, Toby fully recovered, though he still feined needing to stick around your house just to be sure. Your pantry was nearly run through, and every snack you had planned to eat mysteriously disappeared despite your boyfriend’s testimonials. But you didn’t mind. Seeing him back to his usual self was all the thanks you needed. He would be buying you more, though.

But knowing Toby, you weren’t holding your breath.

Tim Wright▸

The snow was relentless, blanketing the world outside in a thick, quiet stillness. 

Tim was a shadow against the swirling white, his broad shoulders hunched as he trudged up the path to your door. His steps were uneven, his breath visible in harsh puffs against the icy air, and it was clear he wasn’t in good shape. You barely managed to open the door before he stumbled inside, shaking the snow off his coat and muttering a half-hearted apology.

“Tim?” you gasped, reaching out to steady him. He was freezing to the touch, his skin pale and his lips tinged with blue. “You’re ice-cold. What are you doing out in this weather? You should’ve called me.”

“Didn’t want to bother you,” he grumbled, his voice rough and strained. He tried to wave you off, but his hands trembled as he shuffled his heavy jacket off. “I’m fine. Just need to get out of all that.” The Operator had shoved him and Brian too far, Masky and Hoodie nearly ready to saw off some heads if they had to spend one more night in the frigid snow. He knew he shouldn’t bother you, shouldn’t cross that line of his affairs and your relationship, but he knew he wouldn’t make it back to the mansion tonight.

“You are not fine,” you said firmly, taking his arm and guiding him toward the couch. “At least come inside and warm up.” You were still in your pajamas, on your way to bed when you heard the haphazard knocks on your door. 

Tim hesitated, his dark eyes flickering with something unreadable, but the weight of his exhaustion won out. He let you lead him, collapsing onto the cushions with a groan. The sight of him like this—so worn down and vulnerable—made your heart ache. Tim was always the strong one, the steady rock everyone leaned on, but now he looked utterly defeated.

You grabbed a blanket from the nearby chair and draped it over him, fussing despite his weak protests. “Stay put. I’ll get you something hot to drink.”

“I’m fine,” he repeated, but his voice was softer this time, less convincing. He leaned back against the couch, his head tipping against the cushion as he closed his eyes. You hurried to the kitchen, boiling water for tea and pulling together a simple plate of muffins that took less than a minute to heat up in the microwave. You would make him a proper meal later, right now he just needed to get warm. When you returned, he hadn’t moved, his breathing shallow but steady. You set the tea down on the table in front of him and nudged his shoulder gently.

“Drink this,” you said. “It’ll help.”

Tim opened his eyes, glancing at the cup before taking it with a quiet disgust. He sipped the tea slowly, his large hands dwarfing the mug, and you sat beside him, watching him closely. He much preferred the bitter taste of coffee, but something warm in his stomach was better than nothing. After a few moments of silence, he sighed, his shoulders slumping further under the weight of the blanket.

“I’m sorry, love,” he muttered, his gaze fixed on the steam rising from the tea. “I won’t stay long. You need to get back to bed.” 

“I’m alright,” you said softly, “I’ll kill you before that storm does if you make it out that door again.”

He didn’t respond right away, his jaw tightening as he struggled to find the words. Finally, he set the mug down and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “I’m alright. I’ll rest for a while, then get out of your hair. I need to get back before they send someone after me.”

“That’s okay,” you said, placing a hand on his back. “You’ve got at least the rest of the night before someone comes looking. Nobody is trudging through this storm just to get you, hun. You need to relax. You deserve to be cared for, too.”

Tim let out a shaky breath, his hand scrubbing over his face. He knew there was no fighting it anyway, you held some power over him even he couldn’t figure out. Your sweet words and touches were enough to stop him from war, he thought. “I- Okay, just until morning.”

“Good,” you said, your voice gentle. “Now rest, you need it.”

Tim closed his eyes, the tension in his body slowly easing as he let himself relax. It hurt your heart to see him so defeated, but if it took sickness to finally get him to relax, then so be it. You sat beside him, keeping watch as the snow continued to fall outside, a quiet reminder that even as big and strong as Tim was, he was still just as vulnerable to the cold as anyone else.

-

As the hours passed, Tim drifted off into a hazy state of staring at the fireplace, his breathing rough and uneven. The man didn’t sleep—he never did—but right now you really wish he would. You stayed by his side though, curled up next to him and monitoring his every cold chill. 

You couldn’t help but feel a deep ache for him, seeing him like this—so worn down and fragile, yet still trying to be the strong, unbreakable as he always was. He let out a quiet groan as he shifted on the couch, his breath shallow, and for a moment, he barely seemed aware of his own discomfort. You were glad you had lit your fireplace hours before he arrived, the bright glow and gentle cracking of the logs under the flames, the heat radiating well enough to warm the whole house.

You gently touched his arm, trying to stir him from his restless half-awake daze. “Tim, you need medicine,” you said softly, your voice gentle yet firm. "You're burning up, and I need to make sure you don’t have a fever.”

Tim’s dark eyes blinked with confusion, and for a moment, he looked disoriented (meaning he was so far in the pits of his mind that there was no telling how disassociated he had become just from sitting here). The firelight danced on his tired face, casting soft shadows over the sharp lines of his features. “I’m fine,” he muttered hoarsely, but the words were weak, lacking the usual conviction. He barely had the strength to lift his head as he tried to wave you off. “I don’t need any medicine. Just a little rest.”

You frowned, your hand resting lightly on his forehead, the heat radiating from his skin like a warning. He was dangerously close to a fever, and no matter how much he fought it, he needed help. He just couldn’t see it. “I’m not asking,” you said softly, brushing back the damp strands of his hair. “A little rest won’t hold out.”

You wondered how Masky was taking the whole ordeal. You decided if his host was sick and weak, the alter probably wouldn’t want to front in such an unprefferable state. 

Tim didn’t argue this time, his eyes flickering with mental strain. He let out a small sigh as you stood and walked into your bathroom, the quiet sound of your movements a comfort to him in the midst of his foggy, feverish haze. You pulled out the small bottle of medicine from the cabinet, one you always kept stocked for moments like these—when he pushed himself too far, too hard, until his body couldn’t keep up with the strain. This wasn’t the first time he had stumbled into your home due to his ailments, and you were very sure it wouldn’t be the last.

You returned to the couch with the bottle and a glass of water, gently helping Tim sit up, his body unsteady as you supported him. His gaze met yours, conflicted, but he didn’t argue. You could see how much he wanted to be strong, to be the one taking care of everything, but right now, he needed someone to take care of him. And you were more than willing to be that person.

“Drink this,” you urged softly, holding the glass to his lips. “It’ll help bring your fever down. You’re not going anywhere until it does.”

He hesitated, eyes narrowing in that familiar stubborn way, but the trembling in his hands gave him away. With a heavy sigh, he took the glass from you and swallowed the medicine in a few quick gulps. He winced, but when he set the glass down, his gaze softened, a brief flicker of gratitude in his tired eyes.

“Thanks,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. You smiled, brushing a gentle hand over his shoulder, offering the smallest of comforts as he settled back against the couch.

“You don’t have to thank me,” you replied quietly. “Just rest. I’ll take care of everything else.”

Tim’s lips parted as if he wanted to say more, but his exhaustion overtook him, his body sinking back into the softness of the cushions, his glazing over once more against the firelight. You didn’t need him to say anything. You could feel the weight of his gratitude, the trust he placed in you without saying a word.

You moved to the kitchen again. His body was still weak, but it needed fuel to help fight off the cold and the fever. You knew he wouldn’t ask for a meal, never would. But you also knew he needed it. You’d learned long ago that showing care was sometimes the quietest, most effective way to love him—through the meals you made, the medicine you administered, the silent acts of kindness that spoke louder than words ever could.

But, a bowl of soup would have to do for right now.

The smell of broth began to fill the house, a gentle, soothing scent that would help settle Tim’s stomach once he slowly phased back to reality. You checked on him every few minutes, ensuring he stayed warm, covering him with an extra blanket when you noticed him shiver. His breath was a little steadier now, the worst of the fever easing off, and the signs of his discomfort had lessened just enough for him to be able to relax. 

You made sure to brew a pot of fresh coffee, too. That breakfast brew he seemed to enjoy so much, the smell wafting through the house and silently altering the man. 

Finally, when the soup was ready, you returned to him, holding the bowl and mug in your hands and a small spoon at the ready. He looked up at you, his eyes soft, tired but grateful. You helped him sit up once more, this time offering him the warm, comforting food he needed to heal.

“You’ve got to eat something,” you said gently, pressing the spoon into his hand. “You need your strength.”

Tim took the spoon and scooped a small portion of the soup, eating slowly, savoring the warmth it brought to his cold body. Each spoonful was another step toward recovery, and with each one, he seemed to relax just a little bit more, the tension in his shoulders easing as he let you care for him. He took gentle sips of the coffee, the taste seeming to steady him better than the tea had earlier, the tension lines in his face finally evening out.

When the bowl was empty, you set it aside and brushed your fingers through his hair again, a tender gesture. “Better?”

He gave a small nod, his eyes now fully closed, his body finally beginning to give in to the warmth and the comfort you’d provided. He didn’t speak, but his hand found yours, gripping it loosely, a silent thanks for everything you had done.

“Need anything else?” You brushed his cheek, the stinging warmth still hot on his skin, but evidently cooler than it had been. He scanned your face for a moment, dark eyes roaming over features he had studied a thousand times, but finally had an answer.

“I’ve got a cig pack in my jacket…” The way his eyebrows twinged upwards gave you all the hint you needed, a small chuckle rising from his chest. You slid over to the door where he had discarded his jacket, rummaging through compartment pockets that held tool knives or bullet casings, but finally landing on the half-empty carton of cigarettes, his lighter tucked neatly inside. You picked out one, lighter in hand as you sat back on the couch.

Tim went to reach for the thing before you shook your head, holding the orange end to his lips with a small smile. He took the cig, your hand following and cupping over the end as you flicked his lighter to a spark, lighting the end. It smoldered, smoke slowly rising from the stick and into the air of your house. You would worry about the smell later.

A deep breath in and you could phsyically see the tension in his shoulders loosen.

This went on for the rest of the night, the slow rotation between cigarettes and refilled cups of coffee as you stayed by his side, arms latched around his own as your head rested on his shoulder.

He slowly shed the blankets, too, the sunlight break finally hitting over the horizon and filtering into your living room. By the time his fever was gone (broken in one night out of pure stubbornness), you were quietly snoring beside him, body curled up under his arm.

He took the time to carry you to your bedroom, slotting you under the covers with numerous gentle kisses across your cheeks. He cleaned the living room and kitchen, washing the bowl and mugs he had dirtied and sorting them away, making sure to tidy everything as the early hours of the morning rolled around. 

He was there to make you food when you finally woke up, returning every favor you had offered the night before. You found yourself at his side on the couch again, watching the snow in the daylight.

You stayed by his side, your presence a quiet promise that you would always be there to take care of him, just as he had always done for you.

In the warmth of your home, surrounded by the gentle sounds of his steady breathing and the comforting scent of the meal he had made, everything felt like it was exactly where it needed to be. You didn’t need words to say it—your love for each other was already in everything you did.

Thanks for reading!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

[jumbojazzcats93]

Perfect, Perfect, Perfect - Ghost

Summary - DOD contracted civilian is perfectly confident and brooks no nonsense at work, but when she hooks up with Simon not knowing it's Ghost, he gets whiplash seeing her other side.

Tags/Warnings - noncanon, 18+ MDNI, divider by @/cafekitsune @glossysoap @violet-phantoms @lordlydragon @quietlyignoringyou @ivymarquis @grizzersmamma @gremlingottoosilly @ghastlybirdie

"Sir, I'm not the one drawing up the CONOPs, and even if I was, arguing with me would not change any of the things outlined in them."

Ghost could hear her from his office across the hall; prickly and stern. A platoon leader from another section had come in about 5 minutes ago, guns blazing and irritation tainting the peaceful vibe of your space, demanding to speak with whoever put out "-That bullshit order to the distro." Ghost heard you try to be amicable at first, only to then get steamrolled by the captain in your office. He considered shutting his door. It was irritating listening to the prick complain, but the satisfaction of hearing you knock down someone so pompous was far greater.

Then came the angry and exasperating rhetoric of, "Well, what do you suggest I do about this than? Hm?"

"Well Sir, to be quite frank I don't really care, but I had assumed that at such a senior rank and with all the experience you boast of, that you could figure it out on your own." You aimed a rehearsed smile at him and folded your hands on your desk. Ghost leaned back in his chair, watching through the open doors and tapping his pen on his desk. Clicking his jaw shut, the captain silently glared at you for a moment before you gestured towards the open door with an elegant wave of your hand. A signal of 'you can go now' that caused an amused huff of air to escape Ghost's nose. Taking in a slow, deep breath, the captain turned and stomped from the room. Ghost just tracked him with his eyes as he turned down the hall and fled.

The deep sigh that emanated from your office had his eyes trailing back to your doorway. Whispered ranting and mockings of the bastard had Ghost fighting down a grin. You appeared in the doorway suddenly, looking at him with an incredulous look on your face and threw your hands in the air. He just shook his head in response. He didn't think either of you had ever actually said more than a few greetings to one another; you just shared silent exchanges like this one. Rolling your eyes, your hands flopped to your sides as you scoffed and stomped back to your desk.

So much attitude in that little head of yours.

Tinted lipgloss stuck to Simon's cock. Make-up tainted tear tracks stained your face from the way he was throat fucking you. He was gonna cum in the next 15 seconds if he didn't stop, so he squeezed the base of his cock and pulled you back by your hair with a breathy grunt. The way you looked up at him panting with a mix of drool and precum dripping down your chin made his cock throb dangerously. Your wet doe eyes and soft hands were not what he was expecting when he lied his way into your bed. At work you were known as a bitch. A hard ass, DOD contracted civillian brought in by Laswell to plan and track special forces missions and everything to do with them.

The image of the you from work crossed with the vision of you in front of him. On your knees with your head resting against his thigh as you looked up at him. You were the perfect image of a sweet and obedient little lover-girl tonight. He smoothed a hand over your hair, trailing it down your cheek until his thumb was pressing against your bottom lip. Humming dreamily, your tongue laved at his thumb before he pressed it into your mouth. Your furrowed eyebrows were just so cute. He'd never be able to look at you the same after this.

"You want somethin' from me, lovie?", he teased, pulling his thumb away and replacing it with his cock. You nodded with a small, whiney, "Yes, please." "Open up, than greedy girl."

You stuck your tongue out, letting him smack his cock on it a few times before kissing and licking the tip. With one hand holding the back of your head, Simon carefully eased his cock into your mouth. You held fluttering eye contact as he slowly began thrusting faster; beginning to throat fuck you once more. His mean little coworker... seeing you so different out of your usual setting and the fact that he had been practically edging himself made quick work of him. A minute was all it took before he was pulling his cock from your mouth and jerking himself off as he came all over your face. He let you continue licking at his cock as he leaned against the wall, recovering.

Simon didn't even realize his eyes had closed, but at the sound of your pathetic little whimper they shot open. Hand between your legs, cheek resting against his thigh, you looked up at him with a sad little pout on your lips. "You're a good girl ain'tcha?" His hand caressed your hair while you nodded. "Don't worry, dove. I won't dare leave ya without a reward."

He guided you to the couch and had you on your back in an instant. With your legs pushed to your chest, your wet cunt was fully on display. He wrapped his arms around your thighs and dragged you toward the edge, closer to his face. His thumb lightly rubbed your clit making your whole body twitch. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, "Poor girl is so sensitive..." He gives your clit a wet kiss before laving his tongue along your cunt, eating you out. Your moans and squeaks had his cock stiffening again. He teased his two middle fingers into your cunt and watched your expression; carefully prodding until he saw your eyes heavily flutter and your skin flush a deeper shade. Simon pressed into that spot until your moans pitched higher and your thighs squeezed his head.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, yesyesyesyesyesyes-" One hand pressed into your lower stomach while his other hand continued to fuck into you. He pulled his mouth from your cunt, leaving a string of spit and slick behind. You squealed, body flexing and squirming before your head fell back, squirting on his hand. He dove back in, letting you use his tongue to ride out the rest of your ogasm until you were whimpering and whining.

Simon grabbed you, readjusting you into a more comfortable position. Your fingers slid into his hair, lips brushing and eyes meeting. That soft, dopey look had him pressing in to kiss you; hand fisting into your hair, pulling your head back as he kissed down your neck. He used his other hand to wrap your leg around his waist. Feeling you cum on his fingers had his cock painfully hard again. Now it beaded precum as it rubbed against your slick cunt. Simon grabbed his cock and positioned it, slowly pressing into you and shushing you as you whined.

"Oh yeah...", he sighed. Your cunt was just as soft as you were right now. Your hand reached for his forearm and squeezed as he bottomed out. He ran his hand up your body, his gaze trailing it's path. The way your tits jiggled with his first few thrusts altered his path until he was groping and massaging your breast with one hand and gripping your hip with the other. You pushed your chest into his eager hand; your cunt clenching. The way your hips meet his every thrust... a secondary wave of arousal washed over him.

How could he ever look you in the eye after this? He'd never get another ounce of work done again with you around.

Pulling out, Simon flipped you onto your stomach and pulled you up onto your knees. For the first time, he noticed the tattoo on your back. What a little minx. His hand slid up your spine and he leaned forward to place a wet kiss against the inked skin. Suddenly his hand was gripping the back of your neck and shoving your upper body into the cushion. Whining with your face half in the pillows and pushing back into his hips, your ass rubbed up against his leaking cock. Simon chuckled deep in throat and squeezed the back of your neck. "You wanna take it so bad don't you?" Unable to nod, you whimper, "Yes, please." His free hand landed a sudden smack against your ass causing a gasp to tear from your throat. Hand smoothing over the stinging skin, he cooed at you.

Pulling his hips away just slightly, Simon slowly guides his cock into your wet cunt. He let's a low sigh out at the feeling of being back inside your pussy. This angle feels so much better, bordering painful, but you can't really tell the difference at this point. He bears down on you so close, you feel his hot breath. His hips are firmly and intentionally grinding against your ass. His dick causing shivers to run through your body. The recoil of your ass when he begins thrusting again is mesmerizing. He grabs a handful of your ass and spreads you open, slowing his thrusts down enough to watch his cock sink into your wet cunt over and over. Moving to grip your waist with both hands, Simon speeds back up; practically using you like a doll.

The way you tighten up on him is dangerous. "Shit-" He breaths panicked. Cum spurts from his cock before he can even pull out. "Shit!" He growls, quickly stuffing his cock back in your cunt to roughly fuck himself through his orgasm. His hands shake as he finally pulls out. You feel his cum spilling out of your cunt as you go to push yourself up, but his hands grab your hips and roughly pull you backwards. Simon lays back as he drags you up his chest, placing your cunt right over his face. Any words you had formulated turn to a moan when his mouth latches onto your clit. His arms snake around your thighs and hold you against his mouth. His hot mouth that feels so good. You were already so close when he came that you know it won't be long before your orgasm burns through you. His tight grip loosens when he feels you trying to grind against his face. If he wasn't 2 ogasms out, the way you moan and grip on his thighs would make his dick hard again.

One arm uncoils from your thigh to land a rough smack to your ass. He feels your pussy clench at the act and lands another light smack before he kneads the area with a rough hand. Simon can tell from the way you tighten your thighs that you're close to cumming. He decides to lock you down with one arm wrapped around your waist. His other hand trails back, wetting his fingers in the mix of fluids before slipping 2 fingers inside of your pussy. Your head is thrown back with a pleased gasp as he finger fucks you. Curling them into your g-spot relentlessly until you're squirting; cum dripping down his chin and neck onto the bed. He keeps fingering you until you're reaching back, begging him to stop with dewy eyes and weak hands.

He's grinning as he lifts your pussy away from his mouth.

"Lieutenant Riley, you're not even paying attention." You sternly accuse from your side of the table.

Simon takes a deep, slow breathe in as he repositions himself higher in his seat, blinking a few times to clear the haze of his daydream. He clears his throat, glances at you and nods for you to continue. All you do is purse your lips; sparing him a scalding look as you continue where you left off in the PowerPoint.

"So, first round of weapons draw is going to be 0600. Buses will show at 0700 to take the troops to the range. Second round will be 1100, so buses will return around 1200 with the morning group and take the next round of soldiers up to the range. That gives all the firers about 5 hours to hit a qual out on the range. They can come back as soon as they qual, but I do NOT want to work passed 6pm tomorrow. Anyone that fails to qualify after 5 hours... well they shoukdnt even be here." You turn to look at him again and your lips purse.

He must look disinterested. Not only had he already been told the timelines for the range, but the entire time you'd been talking, he had been thinking of your escapade from this previous weekend. Every time he looked at you since you came in Monday morning, he could only see the pliant little thing you'd been Saturday when he fucked you into Sunday morning and left after a long nap in your bed. Right now though, he could see you about to throw a fit over his lack of attention toward your presentation.

"Don't worry, dove." He stood up and pushed his chair in. "I wouldn't dare to cause mess of all your hard work and planning." Simon circled the table and loomed over you. You were slow to realize, but the look in your eyes showed your recognizition of the combination of the pet name and his voice.

"Well, I-"

"It's OK, lovie." He smoothed his hand over your hair and to the side of your neck until his thumb brushed your cheek. In an instant, you looked just the same as you did this weekend. Brows pinching together and a doe eyed look replacing the severe stare down you'd been giving him. You looked almost like a deer caught in the headlights; completely unsure of what to do.

How cute.

"So you want me to open up the Arms Room, right?"

All you could muster up was a small nod.

"I'll be there at 0500 to do a pre-inspection and ready everything. I'll allow troops to start drawing their weapons 10 minutes early, too. Okay?" As he spoke his thumb traced your bottom lip. So entranced by his actions and stunned by your realization, you could only offer a breathless, "Okay." In response.

The way you looked up at him had his body moving to lean down for a kiss, but his self-control stopped him before he could even get an inch. Instead, Simon just pressed his thumb down against your bottom lip and let you go. Running his tongue along his teeth, he averted his gaze from you and walked back over to his office.

[tradgedyinwaves]

tw: emotional neglect, military inaccuracies, one sided relationship, sex, cursing, not necessarily unwanted sex, but not encouraged

You told him.

Over and over.

If he didn’t stop treating you like a maid and fuck buddy, you were done.

“Simon, you didn’t do the dishes like I asked and now I have to do them before I can get started on dinner,” you chastise, moving dishes around so you can get them done. His team was coming over for dinner that night, but he’d made no move to help you.

“Ah, I forgot. ‘M sorry,” he called from the couch, eyes still glued to the game flashing across the screen. You huffed and got to work, mentally creating a list of everything that would need done before the guys arrived in…four hours. Great, you had to shower too. 

Only once you’d finished the dinner and were getting into the shower, did Simon finally rise from the couch. He pushed his way in, joining you in the shower. His massive hands found your hips before sliding between your legs, searching for the little bundle of nerves.

Oh, now he wanted to pay attention to you? “Come on, luvie. Let me feel your tight cunt on my cock. I know how much you love my cock,” Simon grunted against your ear, his fingers dancing over the most intimate parts of you. And you let him.

Let him take what he wants because at least, he’s paying attention to you, right? You sigh as he slides into you, feeling the familiar burn and stretch. It’s quick and dirty. He pulls out to shoot his seed between your legs and down the drain. You don’t finish and climb out of the shower to let him finish in peace. 

You stand in front of your closet, opting for a black dress that flaunts your curves but still allows you comfort. Stepping out of the bathroom, fully nude as he uses a towel to dry his hair, he grunts when he glances at you but makes no effort to compliment or even really look at you. 

“I thought I asked you to do the laundry. You know I have that court marshal and Price will have my head if I don’t look presentable,” Simon rants from the bedroom, looking for the ONE button up he owns that he wore earlier in the week to a meeting with some big wigs that the higher ups wanted them to meet. 

The issue was that you were currently bedridden and unable to leave the bed for more than a few minutes to use the restroom or grab food. You’d been laid up with a case of pneumonia that led to bronchitis, making breathing difficult, let alone doing your boyfriend’s laundry. 

You didn’t answer him, rolling away from the closet and curling into yourself. He’d not even been taking care of you, citing that he couldn’t afford to get sick. What if he needed to be deployed, but he was stuck in bed because he was taking care of you? His reasoning was fair, but you were his girlfriend. Shouldn’t he be more worried about getting you well?

It was Simon’s last night home before being sent on a mission. You weren’t privy to where he was going or how long he’d be gone, but that was normal. Something you’d adjusted to when you started dating the man. 

Normally, he’d at least stay home with you the night before. Maybe a movie or something before he’d fuck you into the mattress for three minutes, leaving you unsatisfied. But he tried right? 

This time though, he was throwing his leather jacket on and grabbing the keys to his bike. “You’re seriously going out with the guys you’re shipping out with instead of staying home with me?” you cried, tears slipping down your cheeks as you finally broke from the quiet ways he neglected you. 

“Sorry. They wanted to have a good night of drinking before we’re forced to be sober for weeks on end,” he reasoned, barely even giving you a glance before coming over to kiss the top of your head then disappear out the door. 

The door clicked shut and you heard the key turn in the lock. 

When Simon returned two months later to an empty flat and all of your things missing, he was stunned. Finding the note and your copy of the flat key laying on the coffee table had him collapsing on the couch as he stared at the two sentence note you'd left. He’d taken you for granted for too long, neglected you when you deserved the world. 7 words to shatter his world.

“Don’t come looking for me. I’m done.” 

[mikgreo]

denji’s prized possession!!

nsfw, minors dni.

a/n: thinking about how cute and submissive denji would be!! always ready to get a taste of his prized possession. this man will get on his knees anywhere, everywhere, always, no matter what.🧡

warning: exploiting, cunnilingus, dry humping, fingering, denji cums on your stomach and licks it off, also rubs his cum on your pussy, panty stealing.

“babyyy..~” denji whispered into your ear.

“no, go to bed denji.” you said trying to free yourself from his hold.

you two were at his apartment. you were too tired to walk back home, afterall the mission you both got sent over too had taken almost the whole day. you decided to stay with denji, praying all he would do was cuddle and go to bed.

“pleasee. can’t wait til mornin’ pretty.” he was whining in your ear. so annoying, but cute. you thought.

denji had been begging you for almost 20 minutes to let him eat you out. you, of course being too tired, kept denying his request. you didnt wanna go through the trouble of getting up and taking your clothes off and all of that.

“denji, im too tired baby. i cant even get up im so sore. i promise tomorrow, when i can actually get up.” you said, attempting to turn around so you wouldn’t have to little spoon anymore.

“so if i did it while you were asleep you wouldn’t mind?” denji said while kissing your shoulder.

“mmm nope. its better than doing all the work, i would be fine with it.” you laughed jokingly, knowing he would do it, but it never crossed your mind he would, right now, today, tonight.

denji didnt say anymore, so you took it as an invitation to let your eyes rest and get some long, well deserved, sleep.

denji’s pov!

sooo hungry. i cant wait til tomorrow mornin’.

he freed his hold on you waist and slid down the bed, onto the ground, pulling you by your legs to get closer, earning a grunt from you.

he didnt think much of this. he knew you were a deep sleeper, so he had no fear moving you as he pleased.

he tilted your body to the right and raised your legs up, spreading just enough.

he stopped.

would you be okay with this? is this rape? surely not. i hope not, itll be ok. something about this excited him, he knew you would never be really upset with him. it turned him on, seeing you when your the most vulnerable, taking advantage of your body.

he smiled to himself knowing everything was probably okay.

he pulled down your shorts. leaving your underwear on.

he stuffed his face in your cunt, deeply inhaling your smell. he licked your clit through the fabric.

he unconsciously began to rub against the foundation of the mattress. he tried to find the position where he could get the most friction in his sweatpants.

denji grabbed your panties and pulled them up, watching them go up your almost soaked cunt, sinking into the lips of your pussy.

he buried his face once again in your pussy, lapping up all your juices eating you like a hungry dog.

he pulled your panties off, getting a better view of your pussy, sinking in a finger inside your tight hole.

he curved his finger up and down inside taking his time feeling around and exploring your gummy walls, he pulled out and licked it off clean. moaning at the taste.

he pushed his finger back in while flicking his tongue on your clit, occasionally sucking it and rubbing it with his free hand.

at this point denji’s face was a mess covered in your juices. he was a moaning mess, his pants earning a wet spot the more the rubbed against the base of the bed, he had came atleast twice.

he stuck his hand down his pants wetting his fingers with his own slick, taking it up and spreading it inside your pussy, as lube. but also because he found it hot to taste himself on your pretty pussy <3

denji lost track of time, your body had came around 3 times now, he knew if he kept going your body would eventually squirt “or somethin’ ” (his words) and you would wake up.

he found it exciting not wanting to be caught. it turned him on.

he decided to finish himself off by hovering over you relieving himself all over your tummy.

as he finished getting every last drop out his red puffy tip, he licked it off your stomach, licking it clean.

he picked up your shorts and put them back on, but leaving your panties bunched up inside his pockets.

he layed back down in the same position he was in about an hour ago, and took your panties out his pocket.

he spun them around and the air before sniffing them again.

he put them infront of you.

“see that y/n? i wonder who these belong to ♡” he giggled, “they’re my prized possession, along with your pretty soaking pink pussy.”

im soooo sorry if this was something weird to write!!:(

ive personally imagined myself in this scenario amd would fimd it super hot if my partner did this, but thats me.

[o9sessions]

JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY — H.H

↻ 5 times you experience jealousy— and 1 time he does.

↻ fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, suggestive themes

↻ wc; 7.1k

1 —

The familiar ding of the elevator echoed through the Man Cave, reverberating off the metallic walls. You barely glanced up, still savoring the last few fries from the greasy basket in front of you. The smell of salt and oil hung in the air, mixing with the subtle hum of the computers. When you finally did look up, it wasn’t Ray as expected—it was Henry and Charlotte, their laughter spilling in like sunlight breaking through the cold steel of the lair.

They strolled toward the booth, Henry’s hand brushing against Charlotte’s arm as she made some joke you couldn’t hear but felt in the way his eyes crinkled. They collapsed into the soft, foamy cushions across from you, still giggling like schoolkids.

“Did Ray beep you guys too?” you asked, feigning nonchalance as you shifted in your seat, the cushion creaking beneath you.

“Yup,” Henry replied, his voice light, the ‘p’ popping playfully. “He sounded kinda urgent.”

Before you could say more, the sound of Ray’s heavy footsteps thudded in the distance. He emerged from behind the snack bar, dressed in his usual plaid shirt and jeans, pushing a cart laden with neatly stacked manila folders. The air around him smelled faintly of nacho cheese.

“Speak of the devil,” Charlotte quipped, her voice dripping with sarcasm, her eyes rolling in that effortless way she had. Henry chuckled beside her, their laughter vibrating through the booth.

You glanced at the cart as curiosity tugged at you, fingers lightly grazing the folder marked DRILL FINGER as you picked it up. Before you could speak, Henry’s hand reached over, brushing yours as he took the folder from you. The brief touch sent a spark up your arm, but before you could meet his eyes for more than a second, Ray slammed a fresh stack of files onto the table, snapping you both out of the moment.

“They’re mission reports,” Ray grunted. “Sort through them, figure out which villains are in jail and who’s still out there causing trouble.”

The collective groan that followed was immediate, filling the cave with a heavy sense of dread.

“And you’ll be doing… what, exactly?” Charlotte asked, raising an eyebrow at Ray’s retreating form.

“Eating nachos and watching you kids work,” he replied over his shoulder, already heading toward the snack machine.

With a sigh, you reached for a stack of files, the paper crinkling in your hands. It should’ve been a quiet task, but Charlotte soon broke the silence, nudging Henry. “Remember that time you got stuck in that weird dream and I had to save your ass?”

Henry’s laugh was soft but genuine, the sound low in his throat as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Hey, that was one time.”

You tried to stay focused on the mission reports, the feel of the rough paper slipping through your fingers grounding you, but their laughter kept creeping into the corners of your mind. Every shared glance, every inside joke felt like a secret you weren’t part of. Their chemistry was effortless, natural, and it left you feeling like a bystander in a scene that wasn’t meant for you. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, the leather squeaking beneath you as you cleared your throat, hoping to draw them back to the task at hand.

But they barely noticed, their world orbiting around each other. Another joke, another laugh. You clenched your jaw, the sound of their shared amusement feeling heavier than the silence that followed.

2 —

The soft murmur of the coffee shop wrapped around you like a blanket, blending with the gentle clinks of ceramic mugs and the rustle of pages turning. The smell of fresh-ground coffee drifted through the air, mixing with the warm scent of cinnamon pastries from behind the counter. You sat tucked away in the back corner, the dim light above casting a soft glow on your open textbooks. Midterms were looming, and you’d come here to focus, hoping the quiet hum of life around you would ease the anxiety brewing in your chest.

But just as your pen glided across your notes, the bell above the door jingled, and out of habit, you glanced up. Your breath caught.

Henry walked in. And with him—Bianca.

You froze, fingers tightening around your pen as you watched them make their way to a small table near the window. Bianca looked effortlessly perfect, her hair catching the afternoon light as she smiled up at Henry, her laughter a melodic hum that echoed faintly across the shop.

You sank lower into your seat, hidden behind a stack of books, heart pounding in your chest. They hadn’t noticed you. The chatter of the coffee shop continued, but all you could focus on was them—the way Bianca’s hand brushed against Henry’s arm as they sat down, the way she leaned in just a little too close when she spoke. Her laughter came easy, bubbling up every time Henry said something, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes lit up, even if just for a moment.

Your stomach twisted as Bianca casually reached across the table, her fingers grazing Henry’s. It was subtle, innocent maybe, but the gesture stung all the same. She was always like this—flirty, magnetic. You watched as she played with her hair, tilting her head slightly as she spoke, her eyes never leaving his. Henry seemed comfortable, leaning back in his chair, smiling that boyish smile that made your heart race.

You tried to focus on your textbook, but the words blurred. Your mind was too busy replaying every small interaction between them. You told yourself to leave—to get up and walk out—but your legs wouldn’t move. Instead, you stayed rooted in your chair, watching from the shadows as an hour ticked by, each small gesture between them feeling like a tiny dagger.

Bianca laughed again, her voice soft and sweet, and for a brief moment, Henry glanced out the window, his smile fading just slightly. You wondered if he was thinking of you—wondered if he remembered the promises he’d made before Bianca had left. But then his attention snapped back to her, and the thought dissolved.

The coffee in your cup had long gone cold, but you didn’t move. You just watched, heart heavy, until finally, they stood to leave. Bianca looped her arm through Henry’s, and they walked out together, the door’s bell jingling behind them.

For a moment, you just sat there in the dim light, the weight of what you’d witnessed pressing down on you. None of them knew you had been there. They didn’t see the way your fingers trembled, or how your heart had fractured, piece by piece, with every lingering glance and laugh shared between them.

In the quiet that followed, the world continued as if nothing had changed. But inside, something had shifted—jealousy, sadness, the ache of uncertainty. You let out a shaky breath, finally closing your book. For now, you’d leave the words unstudied and the questions unanswered.

3 —

The steady beep of the heart monitor echoed softly in the quiet of the Man Cave’s med bay. The fluorescent lights overhead cast a sterile glow on the room, making the sterile whites and grays feel even more lifeless. Henry sat beside the bed, his chair pulled close to where Phoebe lay, still and bruised, her breathing shallow but steady.

You stood a little farther back, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, your heart a jumble of emotions. The fight was over, but the weight of what had happened lingered thick in the air. You glanced at Henry, the way his eyes stayed locked on Phoebe, his expression tight with concern. There was something about the way he hovered, his presence protective and unyielding, that twisted in your chest.

You understood the direness of the situation—she had been hurt saving him. Still, a dull ache of jealousy had settled deep inside you, one that you tried to push away.

As Henry sat there, his mind seemed far away, lost in the chaos of what had happened earlier. The fight was still fresh in his memory, replaying in flashes.

It had started fast. They had stormed the warehouse, side by side, working in perfect sync. Phoebe had been fierce, taking down guards with her energy blasts while Henry worked on the bomb, his hands moving quickly over the wires. You had been there too, backing them up as best you could, but it was impossible not to notice how well they worked together. Every movement was fluid, every glance between them understanding without words.

And then, out of nowhere, the blast. Henry had barely registered it until Phoebe hit the ground, a sickening thud echoing through the warehouse as her body crumpled against the pillar.

He had rushed to her, the panic in his voice unmistakable. “Phoebe!” he’d shouted, his fingers trembling as they hovered over her, unsure of where to touch, how to help.

You had watched from a few feet away, heart in your throat. Jealousy flared then, sharp and stinging, watching how frantic he was. But then Phoebe had groaned, trying to sit up, wincing through the pain, and all of that jealousy faded, replaced by something else—fear. Fear for her. Fear for Henry.

Now, back in the med bay, that same fear hung in the room, even though the immediate danger had passed.

Henry hadn’t moved from her side since you had returned. His hand rested lightly on the edge of the bed, close but not quite touching, as if he was afraid he might hurt her if he did. His face was drawn, worry creasing his brow, and he kept glancing at the monitors as if checking for any sign of change.

The jealousy you had felt earlier was still there, but it was quieter now, dulled by the reality of the situation. You understood why Henry was acting the way he was. Phoebe had saved him—she’d taken a hit for him. Anyone would have done the same in his place. But that didn’t make it easier to watch.

She stirred slightly, a soft groan escaping her lips as her eyes fluttered open, still groggy from the sedatives. Henry straightened instantly, his face lighting up with relief.

“Phoebe?” His voice was soft, gentle, and he leaned forward slightly. “Hey, you’re okay. You’re safe now.”

Her eyes moved to him, a tired smile pulling at the corner of her lips. “Henry… you… okay?” she managed to whisper, her voice hoarse and weak.

“I’m fine,” he said quickly, brushing off her concern. “Thanks to you.”

You shifted awkwardly, feeling like an outsider as you watched the exchange. The way they looked at each other, even in this moment, was undeniable. There was a bond there now, something forged in the heat of battle, and it stung in a way you hadn’t expected. You bit your lip, trying to shake it off, reminding yourself that this wasn’t about you.

But it didn’t stop the feeling from settling deep inside.

Phoebe closed her eyes again, clearly exhausted, and Henry exhaled, tension easing from his shoulders as he leaned back slightly, though he still stayed close. You could see the weight of what had happened written all over his face—the relief that she was okay, the fear that something worse could have happened, and maybe something else you couldn’t quite place.

After a long silence, Henry finally spoke without looking away from Phoebe. “I thought we were going to lose her,” he admitted quietly, almost to himself. The words hung in the air, heavy with emotion.

You didn’t know what to say, so you stayed quiet, watching him, watching her. In that moment, you realized that even though the jealousy still lingered, you couldn’t blame him for caring. Phoebe was a hero, just like him, and she had fought beside him, saved his life. It wasn’t about you or her—it was about the bond they’d formed in that moment of danger.

But still, it hurt.

Henry stayed with Phoebe through the night, his hand never far from hers, and you stayed too, even though a part of you wanted to leave, wanted to escape the painful feeling gnawing at your heart. You stayed because, despite it all, you knew they were both important to you.

And maybe that was enough.

4 —

The bright lights of the studio gleamed overhead, casting a spotlight on the sleek set where Henry and Captain Man sat for their interview. The whole space felt larger than life—cameras lined up in perfect formation, audience murmuring softly, and the shimmer of fame hanging thick in the air. You stood off to the side, arms crossed, trying to remain unnoticed. It was supposed to be an exciting event—a chance for Kid Danger and Captain Man to speak to the world, to show the public a little more of their heroic selves.

But the moment the actress, the stunning and ever-charming Ava Monroe, glided onto the stage in her shimmering gown, something in your chest tightened.

She was breathtaking, even more so in person, and the second she sat down across from Henry, you felt the shift in the air. Her smile was dazzling, her laugh infectious, and from the very first question, her attention was completely fixed on him.

“So, Kid Danger,” she purred, leaning in slightly as if she was sharing a secret just between them. “What’s it like being the most eligible superhero in Swellview?”

Henry smiled awkwardly, shifting in his seat, his cheeks flushing a little under the lights. “Uh, I don’t know about that,” he laughed, glancing briefly toward Captain Man for help, but Ray only grinned, clearly enjoying watching Henry squirm under her attention.

You felt the jealousy prickle at your skin, creeping in slowly at first. It wasn’t just that Ava was beautiful or charming—it was the way she made it so obvious that she was interested. Every glance, every brush of her hand when she leaned a little too close, every laugh that lasted just a beat too long. And Henry—Henry was trying to keep it professional, but you could see how flustered he was, how her attention had him off-balance.

“I’m sure the girls in Swellview are just dying to know—do you have someone special in your life?” Ava asked, her tone light but with just enough curiosity to make it clear she was fishing for an answer.

Henry’s smile faltered for a split second, and your heart clenched. His gaze flickered toward you for the briefest moment, but before he could answer, Ava was already speaking again, her fingers gently brushing his arm as she laughed.

“I mean, with looks and charm like yours, it’s hard to believe you’re still single,” she teased, her voice sugary sweet.

Your jaw tightened, fingers digging into your arms as you tried to keep your composure. The casual touches, the way she batted her eyelashes—it was all so painfully obvious. And the worst part? The way Henry didn’t pull away, didn’t shut it down. He was polite, yes, but the fact that he didn’t seem to mind was enough to make your stomach twist with something ugly.

You told yourself you shouldn’t care. This was just an interview, just part of the job. Ava Monroe was an actress—flirting was probably part of her charm, part of the persona she put on for the cameras. But that logic didn’t make it any easier to watch.

The interview continued, but you couldn’t focus on the questions or the banter. All you could see was the way Ava’s attention never left Henry, the way her smile brightened whenever he spoke, the way her eyes sparkled like he was the only person in the room. Every second of it felt like a punch to the gut.

When the cameras finally cut and the audience clapped, Ava stood, flashing one last smile in Henry’s direction as she thanked him for the interview. Henry stood too, still looking a little dazed by it all, but before you could even approach him, Ava was already there again, her hand on his arm as she whispered something in his ear. He smiled—nothing more than a polite, awkward smile—but it was enough to push you over the edge.

You couldn’t stay any longer. The weight of watching it all, of feeling so invisible in the shadow of her charm, was too much.

Without a word, you turned and slipped out of the studio, your footsteps quick and silent as you made your way through the exit. The cool night air hit you as soon as you stepped outside, but it didn’t ease the tightness in your chest. Your breath came out in shaky bursts, a mix of frustration and heartache swirling inside of you. You had no right to feel this possessive, you told yourself. Henry wasn’t yours to claim, not in that way.

But that didn’t stop the hurt from creeping in. Seeing Ava bat her eyes at him, the way she touched his arm, the way Henry had smiled—however innocent it might have been—felt like a crack in something delicate.

Your heart felt like it had been shattered by something so small, yet so impossibly large all at once.

And so, you walked, letting the distance grow between you and the place where Henry still stood, unaware of the turmoil swirling inside of you.

5 —

The quiet hum of the library filled the air, punctuated by the soft shuffling of pages and the occasional murmur of whispered conversations. It was the kind of peaceful environment you usually thrived in, the kind of place that helped you focus and push through hours of studying. But today, no matter how hard you tried, the words in your textbook blurred together, unread.

Across the room, Henry sat at a long wooden table, his head bent over a pile of notes, talking animatedly with his partner for the project—Natalie Reynolds. She was smart, everyone knew that. Always the first to answer questions in class, always at the top of the grade charts, and, to make things worse, she was easygoing and fun. The kind of person that people naturally gravitated toward.

Normally, it wouldn’t bother you. Henry had friends, just like you did. But watching the two of them together for the past week—spending long hours holed up in the library, their heads close as they poured over their research—had become increasingly hard to ignore. You told yourself it was nothing. Just a project. They were working. That’s all.

Still, every time you glanced over at them, the jealousy tightened around your chest.

You tried to focus on your own work, flipping through pages of your notes, but you couldn’t stop your ears from tuning into their conversation. Henry was laughing at something Natalie said. You couldn’t help but remember the conversation you had yesterday:

“She’s honestly so cool,” Henry said, his voice carrying across the room as he talked about her later at Junk N’ Stuff.“Like, she just knows so much about this stuff. I’d be lost without her.”

Your grip tightened on your the figures you were restocking, trying to pretend the words didn’t sting, but they did. You tried brushing it off, convincing yourself it didn’t matter, but it was hard to ignore how often Henry had been talking about Natalie lately. How much he’d been praising her, how their study sessions seemed to stretch longer every day.

It wasn’t like you didn’t understand—Natalie was smart. She was capable, and probably the perfect partner for the project. But knowing that didn’t make it any easier. You couldn’t help but feel left out, like some invisible line had been drawn between them that you weren’t a part of.

You caught glimpses of their smiles, the way they leaned in close, heads bent together, deep in conversation about whatever new discovery they’d just made in their research. They were so focused, so wrapped up in their own little world, and you… you were just on the outside, looking in.

The worst part wasn’t even how close they seemed to be getting—it was the way Henry kept bringing her up in conversation when you did see him. Talking about how smart she was, how much she knew, how helpful she’d been. And every time, you’d nod along, forcing a smile, trying to be supportive, when all you really wanted was for him to stop.

You hated feeling this way—jealous, insecure. It wasn’t like you. Henry wasn’t doing anything wrong. He was just working on a project, just being nice, just appreciating someone else’s skills. But each compliment he gave her felt like a little piece of your connection to him was being chipped away.

Eventually, you closed your notebook and shoved it into your bag, unable to focus anymore. Maybe it was better to just leave, to stop torturing yourself by watching them from afar. But as you stood and slung your bag over your shoulder, you caught Henry’s eye. He smiled, waving you over.

“Hey!” he called, oblivious to the internal storm brewing inside you. “Come check out what we found.”

You hesitated, your heart tugging between wanting to be close to him and wanting to avoid the sharp sting of jealousy. With a deep breath, you crossed the room and stood at the edge of their table, forcing a smile as Henry excitedly explained whatever new piece of information they had discovered.

But you barely heard a word. All you could focus on was how natural they seemed together, how easy it was for him to talk to her, laugh with her, and how little space seemed left for you in that moment.

+1 —

The bright lights of the lavish dining room glimmered overhead, casting an elegant glow on the grand table set for a private dinner with one of Swellview’s most notorious villains, Victor Voss. The atmosphere felt charged, filled with the soft clinking of silverware and the low hum of conversation, as you stood off to the side, adjusting your suit to fit the part. This was a high-stakes mission—a chance for you to flirt with Victor while Kid Danger and Captain Man snuck in to retrieve vital information.

You were wired with an earpiece, allowing you to hear Henry and Ray’s every word as they made their way through the shadows. Your heart raced, not just from the thrill of the mission but from the daunting task ahead. Victor entered the room, his presence commanding, dressed in a tailored suit that accentuated his imposing figure. You felt a flicker of nerves but quickly pushed it aside; you were here to do a job.

As you approached Victor, a confident smile on your face, his gaze shifted to you, instantly intrigued. “Well, well, who do we have here?” he purred, leaning back in his chair, eyeing you with a mix of curiosity and amusement. “Are you here to charm me, darling?”

“Maybe,” you replied, leaning slightly closer, letting your voice drop to a conspiratorial whisper. “Or perhaps I’m here to learn a few things from the most powerful man in the room.” The flirtation was effortless, and the words felt natural as they slipped from your lips.

In your earpiece, you could hear Henry’s voice, a hint of tension threading through his words. “Stay focused. Remember, we need that intel,” he urged, though you could detect a slight edge to his tone.

Watching from the shadows, Henry clenched his jaw, his heart racing in a way he hadn’t expected. Every word you exchanged with Victor felt like a dagger to his gut. It wasn’t just the situation—it was the way you held yourself, how effortlessly charming you were, drawing Victor’s full attention. He’d always known you were good at this, but watching it unfold in front of him made it feel too real.

Victor chuckled, a sound deep and rich, leaning in to engage you further. “You’re bold. I like that. Tell me, what do you find so fascinating about my work?” His eyes sparkled with interest, and Henry felt a surge of frustration. This is just a game for him, he thought, struggling to keep his own feelings in check. Just a villain playing with his prey. But that didn’t make it any easier to watch.

“Power can be intoxicating,” you responded, flashing him a coy smile. “But it can also be lonely. Don’t you crave something more?” You could feel the energy shifting as he leaned even closer, his interest piqued.

Henry swallowed hard, an unfamiliar tension coiling in his chest. What am I doing here? I should be the one sitting next to you, he thought, his mind racing. He couldn’t shake the image of you and Victor, their chemistry crackling in the air like static. “Just stay focused,” he reminded himself. “We’re here for a reason.” But the words felt hollow against the weight of his jealousy.

In your ear, you heard Henry let out a barely audible sigh, followed by Ray’s chuckle. “Looks like she’s really got her claws into him,” Ray teased, but Henry’s irritation was mounting, the feeling of helplessness gnawing at him. “Just keep him busy; we’re almost in,” Ray continued, but Henry felt anything but calm.

As the banter continued, the tension in Henry’s voice tightened. “Just don’t get too close,” he cautioned, his protectiveness surfacing despite his best efforts to remain professional. What if she actually wins him over? The thought was almost unbearable.

“Power is lonely, but I have my ways of making it more… enjoyable,” Victor replied, his tone suggestive as he gestured for you to sit beside him. Henry’s heart sank as he watched you move closer, the warmth of your presence drawing Victor in. He could practically feel the heat radiating from the two of you, and it twisted like a knife in his gut.

“Enjoyment can come in many forms,” you countered, and Henry’s resolve faltered. You’re playing a dangerous game, he thought, anxiety spiking in his chest. The way you leaned in, the way you laughed—it was everything he feared and wanted all at once.

“Just keep flirting,” Ray whispered in your ear, but Henry could sense his irritation simmering just beneath the surface. “We need that information.” The urgency in Ray’s voice only heightened Henry’s frustration, making it difficult to concentrate on the mission.

You carried on, pouring on the charm, but every compliment exchanged with Victor felt like a knife twisting deeper into Henry’s resolve. “You know,” Victor said, his gaze flickering over to where Henry was concealed, “I’ve always admired someone who can keep up with me. How do you feel about a little… adventure?”

“Adventure can be thrilling,” you replied, casting a quick glance at Henry, who was clearly on edge. He was trying to mask his emotions, but his heart was racing. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go, he thought. I should be the one enjoying this dance, not him.

A faint rustle in your earpiece reminded you of the urgency. “We’re in position. Just hold his attention a little longer,” Henry urged, his voice strained. He hated feeling this way, the jealousy clawing at him. He wanted to focus on the mission but felt trapped by his own feelings.

Finally, as Victor leaned in closer, his voice sultry and enticing, Henry’s heart sank further. He caught a glimpse of you, your expression a mix of confidence and determination, and it sent a rush of warmth through him. You’re incredible, he thought, a mix of pride and frustration swelling within him. But why does it have to be like this?

With the stakes rising, Henry knew he had to keep his emotions in check, but the weight of his unspoken feelings felt like an anchor pulling him down. The evening wore on, laughter and flirtation blending with the tension that wrapped around you both, each moment laden with unvoiced feelings as he navigated the delicate balance of duty and desire.

And so, he stayed, weaving through the intricacies of deception, letting the distance between you and the truth shift, all while his heart ached for a connection that felt just out of reach. The longer he watched, the more he realized that what he truly craved was not just the mission’s success but the chance to be the one at your side, sharing in the dance of danger and attraction that seemed to come so naturally to you.

The tension hung heavy in the air as Henry and Ray settled into the car, the hum of the engine a stark contrast to the chaos of emotions swirling inside Henry. They had successfully retrieved the intel from Victor’s office, but the victory felt hollow as he replayed the earlier scene in his mind—your laughter, the way Victor leaned closer, how easily you had captivated him.

Ray glanced sideways at Henry, who was staring out the window, lost in thought. “You okay?” he asked, breaking the silence, though he already knew the answer.

Henry sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, just… a lot to process.” He felt like a ball of frayed nerves, each thought pulling him in a different direction. You did what you had to do, he reminded himself, but the sting of jealousy was still fresh. “I just didn’t expect it to feel like that,” he admitted quietly, his eyes still fixed on the passing streetlights.

Ray raised an eyebrow, sensing the weight of Henry’s frustration. “You mean seeing her flirt with Victor? That wasn’t part of the plan, was it?”

“Not like that,” Henry replied, his voice tense. “I know it was just a distraction, but watching her… it’s like she was in her element. Like she was enjoying it.” The words came out more bitter than he intended, and he felt a wave of guilt wash over him. , he chided himself. But the feeling of helplessness clawed at him.

Ray nodded, trying to understand. “It’s just a job, man. We all know how good she is at this.” He paused, gauging Henry’s reaction. “You can’t let it get to you. She’s got a role to play.”

“Yeah, but it’s hard to watch someone else take the spotlight,” Henry muttered, his fingers tapping restlessly against the seat. “I’ve seen her take on villains before, but this was different. He was leaning in, like he wanted something more.”

“I get it,” Ray said, his tone more serious now. “But you’re Kid Danger. She’s not going to forget that.” He watched Henry’s jaw tighten, the flicker of insecurity written all over his face. “You’ve got to trust her, man. She can handle herself.”

Trust her, Henry repeated silently to himself, wishing he could. The fact that you had been so effortlessly charming, so confident in the face of danger, made it even harder to swallow. “I know she can,” he said finally, forcing a nod, but the doubt lingered. What if she enjoyed it too much?

Ray shifted in his seat, sensing the thick atmosphere. “Look, once we pick her up, this whole thing will be behind us. You’ll have your chance to talk to her.”

“Yeah, if I can even find the words,” Henry replied, his voice low. The thought of confronting you about his feelings—about everything he had experienced during the mission—felt daunting. Would you understand? Would you see how hard it had been for him to watch?

As they approached the designated pickup location, Henry’s heart raced at the thought of seeing you again. What if she thought it was all just part of the act? He didn’t want to be just another distraction in your world, yet that was exactly how he felt.

“Just keep it cool,” Ray advised as he pulled up to the curb, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of you. “You can’t let your feelings cloud the mission. You know that.”

Henry nodded but found it hard to focus. His thoughts were tangled, emotions roiling beneath the surface. What if this changes everything? He couldn’t shake the feeling that the mission had shifted something between you two—something more than just friendship.

The wait felt interminable, each second dragging on as Henry replayed every moment from the dinner in his head. Finally, he spotted you stepping out of the building, your confident stride and easy smile radiating energy that made his heart flutter and ache at the same time.

When you slid into the backseat, the atmosphere instantly changed. You were all smiles, but Henry noticed the glimmer in your eyes that hinted at the tension you must have felt earlier. “You guys won’t believe what just happened!” you exclaimed, clearly still riding the high of the mission’s success.

Ray smiled at you, engaging in light banter, but Henry remained silent, his thoughts a storm of conflicting emotions. He felt like an outsider in the moment, watching you bask in the aftermath of your performance with Victor.

As Ray continued to drive, the tension in the car grew thicker, punctuated by the unspoken words that hung in the air. Every glance you exchanged felt electric, charged with feelings that neither of you had dared to voice.

Henry stole another glance at you, his mind racing. Each second stretching into an eternity as you chatted with Ray, laughter mingling with the tension that seemed to weave its way between you and Henry.

Finally, as the familiar streets of Swellview passed by. The unease in his chest pushed him forward, urging him to break the silence, but he didn’t . He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his feelings pressing down on him like a heavy fog.

The workout room in the Man Cave hummed with a rhythmic energy, the sound of punching bags swaying gently and sneakers squeaking against the polished floor blending into a symphony of exertion. You moved with focused determination, sweat glistening on your skin as you threw punches at the heavy bag, each strike a release of the pent-up stress that had built over midterm week. The air was thick with the scent of rubber mats and the faint echo of heavy weights clanging in the distance, a welcome distraction from the swirl of thoughts clouding your mind.

You were aware of the tension that had developed between you and Henry over the past few weeks. It felt like a weight pressing on your chest, growing heavier with each passing day. The memory of his close encounters with various girls—each one more charming than the last—gnawed at you. You tried to brush it off, convincing yourself that you were overreacting, but the truth was undeniable: the jealousy was like a constant, throbbing ache, and it didn’t help that you felt more distant from Henry than ever.

As you focused on your training, each punch against the bag was a desperate attempt to release the frustration that threatened to boil over. The rhythm of your movements was meditative, yet your mind was anything but calm. Memories of Henry laughing with those girls played on a loop, a haunting reminder of the connection you wished you had with him. You could still hear the laughter echoing in your ears—the easy banter, the way his eyes lit up when he was around them. It stung more than you cared to admit.

The door creaked open, breaking your concentration, and you glanced over to see Henry emerging from the locker room, his body still glistening from his earlier workout. The sight of him took your breath away; the muscles in his arms flexed with every movement, and the way his hair fell across his forehead made your heart race. Yet, as soon as he stepped into the room, the atmosphere shifted, tension crackling like electricity in the air. You could feel it—the unspoken words, the unresolved feelings.

“Hey,” he called out, his voice low but confident, breaking through the silence that had enveloped you both. “Wanna spar?”

Your heart raced, caught between desire and reluctance. You shook your head, trying to play it cool. “No thanks, I’m good,” you replied, your voice steady, but the frustration you felt seeped through the cracks. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much his presence affected you, especially after everything that had happened recently.

“Oh, come on,” he urged, stepping closer, a playful grin flickering across his lips, a grin that made your stomach flutter and clench at the same time. “I promise I won’t go easy on you.”

The mention of that last part made your heart drop, a fresh wave of jealousy crashing over you like a cold wave. “You mean you won’t go easy on me like you didn’t go easy on those other girls?” you shot back, your voice sharper than you intended. The bitterness of jealousy was a familiar taste, one you hated but couldn’t escape.

Henry’s expression faltered for just a moment, but he quickly masked it with determination, his jaw tightening. “That’s not fair. This isn’t about them.”

“Isn’t it?” The words slipped out before you could stop them, your pulse quickening as you felt the heat rise to your cheeks. “You’ve been with so many girls lately, it’s weird.”

He clenched his jaw, a flash of frustration igniting within him. “Weird?” he echoed, his voice rising a notch. “You think i’m the only one that’s ‘weird’?”

You frowned, crossing your arms. “What do you mean?”

“Oh don’t be dense, it’s not like you were just flirting with some random guy,” he snapped, his emotions boiling over. “You were flirting with a villain! Victor Voss! You were practically hanging on his every word!”

You blinked, taken aback by the sudden intensity in his voice. “Henry, it was part of the mission! I had to distract him to get the intel. You know that.”

“Yeah, I know that!” he shot back, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “But it doesn’t mean I have to like it! Watching you smile at him, the way he leaned in closer… you know you liked it.” he said, his tone more challenging, almost daring you to confront the truth. The intensity of his gaze sent a thrill through you, a mixture of annoyance and longing that twisted your insides.

“Come on. Let’s get this out of our systems.”

After a moment’s hesitation, you exhaled a sharp breath, finally giving in to the urge that had been bubbling beneath the surface. “Fine. But don’t cry when I wipe the floor with you.”

As you squared off, the air thickened with anticipation. You could feel the heat radiating off him, his presence pulling you in like a magnet. With the adrenaline coursing through your veins, you began with playful jabs, each strike punctuated by a shared history of friendship that made this moment feel electric.

Yet, the tension simmering beneath the surface was impossible to ignore. Every punch he threw felt like a reminder of the distance that had grown between you, a barrier that had been built on misunderstandings and unresolved feelings. With each hit, you found yourself more frustrated—not just at him, but at the entire situation. You wanted to fight, to push against that barrier, but part of you was terrified of what would happen if you did.

“You think you’re so great, huh?” you teased, sidestepping a punch he aimed at you. “But you’re still avoiding the truth.”

“I’m not avoiding anything!” he replied, landing a solid hit to your shoulder, a small grin tugging at his lips as he feigned innocence.

“Really? Because it seems like you’re avoiding me since those girls came along,” you shot back, landing a kick against his side. The words felt charged, a mix of frustration and longing spilling over as you fought.

Henry’s expression darkened, and the playful tone slipped away. “You think this is about them?” he asked, his voice low and intense. “This is about you pushing me away!”

The air crackled with unfiltered emotions, and as you continued to spar, the fight morphed into a release of all the pent-up tension. You both knew it was more than just a physical match; it was a battleground for your feelings, an attempt to confront the truths that had been lingering in the space between you.

“I don’t want to feel jealous, Henry!” you yelled, frustration boiling over. “But how am I supposed to ignore it when you’re always with them?”

“Then why are you acting like you don’t care?” he countered, his breath coming in quick bursts. “I’m tired of pretending we’re not something more than friends!”

With each exchange, the intensity escalated. You could feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins, pushing you to the brink as you both vented your frustrations. As he caught your punch, his grip was firm yet gentle, and your heart raced as you locked eyes, the world around you fading into the background.

“Maybe we should stop fighting,” you murmured, your breath mingling with his, the space between you charged with electricity.

“Maybe we should,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper, the intensity in his gaze igniting something deep within you.

Before you could think, he pulled you closer, the intensity of your earlier sparring morphing into something more profound. Your lips crashed together, the kiss igniting a fire that had been simmering between you all along. It was rough and passionate, each moment a release of the frustration, jealousy, and longing that had been pent up for far too long.

You felt every ounce of pent-up emotion flood through you as you melted into him, bodies moving together with an urgency that spoke louder than any words exchanged in the heat of battle. The kiss deepened, hands roaming freely, exploring the familiar territory you both had skirted around for so long.

His grip on the back of your head tightens, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulls you in closer. His lips crash down onto yours, hard and rough.

“Mine.” He growls against your mouth, his tongue pushing its way past your lips to explore the inside of your wet cavern, tongue battling against your own.

Henry pulled you closer, his hands gripping your waist, fingers digging in just enough to remind you of the heat radiating from his body. Every kiss was a confession, every breath an admission of the desire that had been simmering beneath the surface. You lost yourself in the moment, forgetting everything else—the jealousy, the misunderstandings, the insecurities.

As the kiss broke, you both pulled away, gasping for breath, the reality of the situation crashing back in. The silence between you was thick with the weight of what had just transpired, a new understanding settling into the space that had once been filled with tension and uncertainty.

“What just happened?” you whispered, a mix of exhilaration and disbelief coursing through you.

Henry searched your eyes, vulnerability flickering across his features. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice husky. “But I know I want to figure it out—with you.”

Fin.

NAVI

[queenpiranhadon]

HII you commented on my post :’) 🎀

can I request pro hero bakugou x pro hero reader where reader usually pick up their kid(s) from daycare alone since BK is busy and usually gets home late:( and that kinda made their kid(s) upset and ignore their dad at home and cry really loud in front of reader secretly. So like reader came up with an idea to surprise the kid(s) and told BK to change his schedule or else reader will whoop his ass. So like the next day BK and reader went to daycare together and instead of reader standing behind the glass door it’s BK and that made their kid(s) go crazy and jumpy 🥺 thank you 💗

Idk I was watching this reel and got a lil inspired ~ https://www.instagram.com/jaxon.trevor/reel/CsTuZLUofpg/?igsh=MTNuZHY3ZDEwMnNoZA==

A/N: HIII SORRY THIS TOOK ME A WHILE AHAHAH BUT I LOVED WRITING THIS IT WAS SO CUTEEE Here's the masterlist!

Warning(s): Mild cursing, f!reader, your kids love you, pre-established relationship (you two are married), you have twins, Katsuki loves you, just fluffy fluff with like the mildest angst if you squint really hard.

Pairing(s): Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

•─────•°•❀•°•──── ᴅᴀʏᴄᴀʀᴇ ────•°•☁︎•°•────•

It's late. You were in the kitchen, cleaning up from dinner, as your husband finally relaxes in your shared bedroom after a long patrol. It was always like this, Katsuki getting home late, and you were left to take care of your two children in the meantime.

You didn't blame him, of course, you knew how hard he worked, given that he was the number 2 pro hero and with that came a lot of responsibilities. You yourself were number 5, which meant you also had a lot of missions, but thankfully since you ran your own agency, you could manage your schedules easier to be able to pick up your kids from daycare every day.

However, your twins, Kasumi and Akio, weren't as understanding as you were when it came to your husband's attendance at home.

You understood their pain, but tried to keep an open mind for the sake of your family. However, after a two month long mission that Katsuki was sent on, he had consequently missed your birthday, something that might've upset you slightly, but you didn't think it was a big deal.

The twins, however did. They were furious at this point, sobbing as they clung onto your shirt, snot and tears soaking the fabric, but you didn't mind, rubbing their backs comfortingly. You thought it was sweet, how much they cared, but they little voice in the back of your head agreed with them, if only a little. Katsuki was never at home anymore, and to be honest, you missed him.

When he came back, you welcomed him with open arms, but the twins had just peaked their heads out of their rooms before retreating back, as if this was a normal occurrence.

You sigh, and look back at Katsuki, who had a heartbroken expression on his face.

Grabbing his hand, you lead him to your shared bedroom, squeezing his hand softly and getting ready for bed.

Katsuki gets changed but only sits on the bed, and you lie down next to him.

"What's on your mind, love?"

He grunts and looks away, conflicted before looking back at you.

"Do...do the twins hate me?" he mutters, and you frown softly.

"No...they don't hate you Kats, they just...wish you were around more."

Your husband frowns, and you can see the guilt swimming in the depths of his vermillion eyes.

"Maybe you can pick them up from daycare tomorrow?" You suggest, as Katsuki still hasn't said a word.

Katsuki frowns. "But my schedule-"

"Katsuki Bakugou if you do not pick up your children from school tomorrow then I'm sleeping on the couch for a month." You retort back before he can finish.

Your husband's eyes widen, realizing that you've got him stuck. If it really came down to it, he would gladly sleep on the couch if you wanted him to - but you knew he loved you too much to subject you to the same fate.

"Damn it, fine. Don't you dare threaten me like that again, woman." he grumbles and you smile up at him victoriously.

"Awww you love me." you coo, and you kiss his arm softly before tugging him gently to join you under the covers.

Katsuki watches you drift away to sleep, cheek half smushed against his bare chest and he can't help the dorky smile that stretched across his face.

He loved you so, so much. More than you would ever know.

Encircling his strong arms around you, he hold you close, making a mental note to take you out for a nice date tomorrow as well, before drifting off to sleep as well.

When he wakes, you're gone, with a note on the fridge that says that you left to drop the kids off and that you'd be back after work. He chuckles, and decides to clean up the house in the meantime.

He can't remember the last time he had a day off, it felt weird, to be honest. He felt restless, and so he did everything and anything to keep himself occupied while taking a majority of the burden you had off your shoulders.

Once the house was clean, he rifled through your closet, picking out the sundress he loved - accentuating your curves while the color brought out everything he loved about you, which was well, everything.

When you return home, Katsuki's getting changed into some nice clothes, surprising you as he tells you to go shower and get ready while he picks up the kids.

You're most definitely surprised, wondering where all of this is coming from, but you can't say you're upset about him, giggling softly and deciding to play along, feeling your heart warm as you hear the car door shut.

Katsuki parks the car in the parking lot, and approaches the building, giddy but slightly nervous at the same time. What if the kids still hated him? Would he be able to make things better?

However all his worried disappeared the moment he saw his kids' overjoyed faces at seeing him.

Their eyes brighten and they scream excitedly, bolting towards him with speed that was almost inhuman, tackling him and almost knocking him down.

"DADDY!!!!!" Kasumi squealing, leaping up and attaching herself to his leg.

Akio looks up at him, agape. "You-you're actually here?!"

Katsuki chuckles and ruffles his son's hair lovingly."Yeah, I am, bud. M'sorry I couldn't pick ya up sooner...Ya know how hero work is."

The kids nod, hugging him tightly as his hefts them up to sit on either of his hips.

"C'mon you two. We're gonna go surprise yer mama when he get home, got it? We'll take out her somewhere nice."

The twins look at each other micheviously and nod vigorously. "Daddy's in looooove" they sing, giggling uncontrollably.

Katsuki chuckles and can't help but feel his heart flutter at the thought of you.

"Yeah, Daddy's in love all right."

[frostimochi]

second best

(logan howlett x reader)

summary: You and Logan are both in love with people completely out of reach. After a seemingly innocent joke made for you and him to get together, the two of you brush it off. But as days pass, the idea seems less ridiculous. Then one night, Logan approaches you, finally agreeing to the idea--and what starts as a fake relationship soon takes an unexpected turn.

word count: 17.6k chapter count: 10/10 (finished!) author’s note: ok this is my very first time posting any media i've made on tumblr...i can't guarantee i'll do it again, but i will def be writing more on my ao3 account if you wish to see more! this is also a mix of the x-men films and x-men ‘97 for context. it's a bit rushed but i hope you all enjoy! :)

chapter 1 - what we carry

The night was tense. Clouds of smoke, smoldering debris choked the air, and the distant sound of sirens echoed through the city. It was another X-Men mission coming to an end. You crouched low behind the crumbling remnants of an abandoned building, your heart hammering in your chest as you peeked around the corner. Flames flickered in the distance, casting shadows across the deserted street.

But you weren’t alone; Logan crouched beside you, eyes sharp and focused, his senses tuned into the slightest movement in the darkness. He grunted softly, the usual gruff in his voice present, even when he whispered. "They’re circling around. We need to move."

You nodded, adrenaline still coursing through your veins after the battle that had nearly gone sideways. The mission had been simple enough on paper, but nothing ever went as planned in the field. What was supposed to be a routine infiltration turned into an all-out firefight when the enemy showed up in greater numbers than anticipated.

"Stick close," Logan added, his eyes flicking to yours for just a moment, a brief concern crossing his usually impassive face. "You good, bub?"

"Yeah, I’m fine," you lied, already feeling the dull ache in your side from where you’d taken a glancing blow. You could push through it, just like you always did. This wasn’t your first mission, and it certainly wouldn’t be your last. But the fatigue was beginning to weigh on you, not just from the fight, but from everything else—specifically, your own personal endeavors from a few days back.

You and Remy have gotten awfully close. Closer than you probably should have allowed. But he was still wrapped up with someone else, and that reality gnawed at you. The thought lingered as you and Logan crept forward. It wasn’t just the mission weighing on you tonight.

As the two of you moved through the shadows, working your way toward the extraction point, your thoughts only continued stranding to Remy. The way he’d effortlessly deflected attacks earlier, how his movements were always so fluid and confident. You couldn’t help but admire him, desire him. A familiar pang hit your chest, knowing the truth deep down; he only had eyes for Marie.

Just like Logan only seemed to have eyes for Jean.

The thought made you glance at Logan, who was scanning the area ahead. Even now, you knew he was thinking about her, about Jean. The woman who could never be his, no matter how much he wanted her. In the end, you were both stuck in this endless cycle of wanting someone who was just out of reach.

The extraction point wasn’t far, but just as you neared it, a gunshot cracked through the air. You flinched, instinctively ducking as Logan pushed you back against the wall, his body shielding yours.

"Stay down," he growled, his claws extending with a sharp snikt. He didn’t hesitate, charging toward the threat before you could react. The sound of a struggle echoed through the alleyway as you pressed a hand to your side, wincing.

By the time you caught up, Logan had already taken care of the attacker, standing over him with a dark look in his eyes. His claws retracted as he wiped the blood off his knuckles with a grimace.

"Let’s get the hell out of here," he muttered, his voice low. 

You didn’t argue, following him in silence as you both slipped into the shadows, heading for the jet. You were the last few to escape, as the night felt colder, with the exhaustion hitting you full force as the adrenaline began to fade.

. . .

Later, as the two of you sat in the dimly lit jet, silence stretched between you and Logan. The mission was over, but the weight of everything else from your physical pain, to personal life still stuck at the back of your mind. You leaned back in your seat, staring out the window as the city disappeared beneath the clouds.

"You alright, Y/N?" Logan’s voice broke the silence, his gaze still on you, seeing you still holding onto your side.

"Yeah," you replied, though the aching pain had gotten worse, and your thoughts still scattered. But you knew he wasn’t asking about the mission.

"Doesn’t seem like it," he remarked, a knowing edge to his tone. “You’re awfully quiet.”

You looked over at him, unsure if you wanted to brush it off or actually talk about what was on your mind. 

"I don’t know, Logan," you admitted quietly. "Everything just feels... off lately.”

His eyebrows furrowed in questioning, as you continued. You didn’t feel any reason in hiding it anymore, since there wasn't anything left you could do at this point. The fatigue didn’t help either. Processing a single thought was a different pain on its own.

“Just wishin’ Remy looked at me the same way as Rogue.” you replied in a soft-spoken whisper. 

He didn’t respond right away, just leaned back and closed his eyes for a moment.

"You’re not the only one," Logan finally said, his voice low and rough. "Sometimes it feels like I’m just also going through the motions, you know?”

He paused.

 “Jean... she’s never gonna look at me the way I want her to. Not while she’s with Scott."

"You ever get tired of it?" you asked suddenly, the words spilling out before you could stop them. Logan looked over at you, one eyebrow raised.

“Of what?”

“Wanting someone you know you’ll never have?”

Logan let out a low, almost bitter laugh, leaning back in his seat. "More than you know. But it’s not exactly something I can just turn off, you know? Not in my nature."

"Yeah, well, easier said than done," you muttered, trying to shrug it off. "I have bad luck with these things.”

Logan didn’t respond right away, just watched you with that quiet intensity of his, noticing what others overlooked. You could feel his eyes on you, the weight of his presence grounding you, in a way that Remy’s never had.

"Luck’s overrated," Logan said finally, his voice low and steady. "We make our own way without it."

Another beat of silence passed, the air thick with everything left unsaid. But something about the quiet was comfortable now. You weren’t alone in your hurt anymore, and neither was he.

"We’re a real messed up bunch, huh?" you said, forcing a small laugh, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Logan smirked, but there was no humor in it. "Yeah. A real bunch of idiots.”

You silently nodded in agreement, the heaviness in your chest finally settling. You both sat there, the weight of your unspoken heartaches still lingering in the room. It was strange how easy it was to talk to Logan about it, but you knew he understood it quite well. To want someone so badly, yet know you could never have them.

Maybe that's why, despite the exhaustion, despite the pain and confusion, you could finally let yourself close your eyes, knowing that even though you couldn’t have everything you wanted, at least you had this moment. This understanding. And maybe that was something worth holding onto. For now. 

chapter 2 - what we seek

Back at the mansion, things had settled back into a familiar routine. The mission was behind you, but it didn’t stop the heartache for Gambit slipping back in. The lingering feeling always felt like a stab in the chest, a constant reminder of what you couldn’t have.

The truth is, it was supposed to happen. You and Remy had planned it out several nights ago: a quiet, simple evening away from the team, just the two of you. There had been moments; rare, unguarded looks from him that had felt like a promise, a hint of something more. You’d felt it, that same, exhilarating thrill that always seemed just within reach, and for once, you’d let yourself believe in the possibility of something more. But in the end, the odds never seemed to work out in your favor. He stood you up, and was later found reconnecting, rekindling his love with another woman from his past.

Rogue. Marie. 

You had nothing against her—hell, you admired her deeply, and spoke with her several times outside of missions and training. You were sure she didn’t know about what had been happening between you and Remy. You couldn’t deny they were both drawn together in a way that was undeniable, magnetic. Whatever was between you and him had been put aside. You knew it would never compare.

In the end, it was easier to keep to yourself, easier to pretend nothing had changed, but the pain of wanting something just out of reach, kept you from finding any real peace. And in those moments, you found yourself drifting, walking the halls of the X-Mansion at odd hours, going places where you knew no one else would be.

One of those nights, you stumbled to grab any kind of sustenance. The kitchen was quiet, as you poured yourself a late-night drink. A few footsteps from behind broke the chaos of thoughts bursting in your mind, and you turned to see Morph entering with their usual grin. They slid onto a stool, giving you a once-over with exaggerated curiosity.

“So... heard you and Wolverine had a heart-to-heart last night,” they said, a smirk forming.

You rolled your eyes, setting the bottle down, visually annoyed. “Does anyone around here not know everyone else’s business?”

Morph shrugged, leaning back in their seat. “Hey, it's not my fault the walls are thin.”

You let out a sigh, swirling your drink absentmindedly. "And what does everyone think they know, exactly?"

Morph grinned wider, clearly enjoying himself. "Not much... just that two lonely souls found a little solace in each other’s company after a rough mission." They paused, quivering an eyebrow. "Did I miss anything?"

You shook your head, smiling despite yourself. "Sometimes, Morph, you’re worse than the tabloids."

"All I'm saying," they continued, "is that sometimes we get so caught up in what we can’t have, that we miss what’s right there."

Raising an eyebrow, you took a sip of your drink. It burned through your throat as you slammed it back down on the table. You took a heavy breath before responding. “Oh? Enlighten me.”

“You and Logan should get together. Problem solved.” Morph crossed their arms, looking far too pleased with himself.

“Right,” you snorted, but his comment gnawed at you. “And how exactly would that solve anything?”

Morph just grinned, tilting their head thoughtfully. “Well, think about it. You two already get each other. You're both in love with people who are already taken. So why not take some of that stress off? Might as well team up and have a pity party together.” 

“Funny,” you replied dryly. “But Logan and I both know where we stand. We don’t need to complicate things further.”

Morph leaned in, their playful smirk never wavering. “Oh, come on, Y/N. You’re telling me you’d rather mope around with this crush on a guy who can’t even remember your name when Rogue’s in the room? That’s some next level torture.”

You shot them a glare, trying to ignore how his words cut a little too close to home. “I’m not moping. I’m just—”

“Just what?” they interrupted, leaning back with feigned innocence. “Waiting for Gambit to realize he made a mistake? Please. At this point, he probably thinks you’re just his backup plan.”

“That’s not fair,” you snapped, your voice sharp. “You don’t know what it’s like.”

“Sure I do,” Morph replied, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve got the whole tragic love story going on. It’s like a soap opera, only less exciting. So why not shake things up? You and Logan could make quite the team. Brooding heartthrob meets the queen of unrequited love? It’s practically a rom-com waiting to happen.”

They chuckled, and before you knew it, he morphed into the Wolverine himself. They adopted his brooding, eyebrow furrowing expression, capturing his essence flawlessly. “So, Y/N,” They said in a low, gravelly voice, “still hung up on Gambit? You know he’s not exactly waiting around for you, right?”

You crossed your arms, trying to maintain your composure. “You’re really going to keep this up, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely,” they replied, their expression a mix of seriousness and playfulness. “Why settle for someone who’s already got his eyes on Rogue when you could be with someone who actually sees you? Like me.”

“If only the real Logan could see you now. You wouldn’t last a second if he was here,” you quipped.

 “He’d probably give me a high five for finally getting you to lighten up.”

“Sure, right before he throws you out the window,” you shot back, crossing your arms defiantly. “Even if Logan and I bothered to give each other a chance, it's just another excuse for some love-hexagoned drama for the students to feign on.”

“Hexagon? I thought this was more of a straight line,” Morph said, shrugging playfully, returning back to their form. “How much longer are you going to let Gambit’s rejection keep you down?”

You sighed, feeling the weight of their words. “I don’t know, Morph. I’m still trying to figure out my feelings for Remy, and you know how complicated things are with Marie in the picture.”

Morph leaned in closer, their expression softening a bit. “Look, I get it. It’s a mess, but you can’t just let it stop you from exploring something new. What’s the harm in talking to the wolverine? You might be surprised.”

“Talking to Logan?” you repeated, rolling your eyes. “What’s that going to do? I’m not looking for a rebound or a distraction. I’m not that kind of gal.”

“Just a chat,” they insisted, his voice lightening again. “You never know. Maybe you’ll find out that you have more in common with him, more than just a mutual crush on unavailable people.”

You shook your head, rolling your eyes, getting up from your seat. “I appreciate the pep talk, but I’m not ready for that right now. I need to deal with my own stuff first.”

Morph crossed their arms, the grin returning. “Fair enough, but just know I’m here, waiting, when you’re ready to make your move.”

“Thanks, but really, let’s just drop it for now,” you said, feeling a bit lighter in thought as you made your way out of the kitchen.

As you walked through the familiar halls of the X-Mansion up to your room, Morph’s words were still in your head. They had a point, no matter how much you denied it. Maybe this was something you needed, no matter how ridiculous it sounded.

What could possibly go wrong?

chapter 3 - what we plan

The X-Mansion had another afternoon buzzed with its usual energy, the sounds of training and laughter echoing through the halls. You found comfort in your routine, but your thoughts often drifted back to Morph’s words from a few days back. Yet, every time you found yourself lost in those thoughts, a rush of uncertainty would follow.

After an intense training session, you retreated to the common room, seeking solace in the company of your teammates. As you entered, you spotted Logan across the room, leaning against the wall, arms crossed as he talked to Jean. Even bothering to talk about what Morph said to you with him was pointless. He had his own things to deal with, if it wasn’t clear enough.

You grabbed a nearby magazine, your eyes skimming the pages, but your mind wandered elsewhere. You recalled Morph’s words, their constant suggestion that you should pursue something with Logan. It felt too foolish to consider now. He had his own problems, and his own, personal interests. 

As you tried to concentrate on the text, you caught snippets of their conversation. Jean laughed at something Logan said, and your heart sank a little. You shifted in your seat, pretending to be engrossed in the magazine while you tried to make sense of your feelings. Was it even worth pursuing something with Logan, or was it just a fleeting thought sparked by Morph's teasing?

Lost in thought, you barely noticed the hours pass, and the only person left in the room was you. It was late. You threw the magazine back on the couch, and decided to head back to your room, making your way up the stairs. As you walked down the hall, you suddenly bumped into Logan, who was on his way back down.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low and steady. “You okay, bub?”

“Yeah, just didn’t see you coming,” you replied, trying to mask your heart pounding out of your chest.

He offered a small smirk, his expression softening. “You’re awfully lost in thought lately. What’s on your mind?”

You hesitated, searching for the right words. Should you mention Morph’s suggestion? Or the nagging feeling that there could be something more between you two? Instead, you shrugged lightly. “Just the usual stuff...training, missions, you know how it is.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “You sure–?”

“Yeah, well,” you interrupted, fiddling with the hem of your shirt, “there's a lot on my mind.”

He studied you for a moment, those intense hazel eyes piercing right through. “You wanna talk about it?”

The weight of his gaze continued to send your heart racing. 

This was it. You could either keep running from your thoughts or just finally spit it out.

 “I was thinking about what Morph said to me a few nights ago.”

A flicker of curiosity crossed Logan's face. “Morph? What’d that hellspawn say this time?”

You bit your lip, gathering your thoughts. “He mentioned us. Getting together. It’s ridiculous, I know.” The words tumbled out before you could stop yourself, leaving you feeling quite awkward. You tried presenting yourself enamored by crossing your arms and looking casual, but anyone could see right through that it was taking a toll on you.

Logan’s eyebrows furrowed, and paused for a moment, taking it into thought. He then let out a soft chuckle.

 “Y/N, don’t let Morph’s nonsense mess with your head. They're just trying to stir the pot, like always.”

You bit your lip, still unconvinced. It took him that long to form his sentence? You assumed the both of you were just not in the mood to discuss it, which was partially true. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. It just had me thinking it over so much, that I–”

He cut you off with a wave of his hand, his expression shifting to one of playful exasperation. “Seriously, don’t overthink it. We’ve got enough to deal with without getting tangled up in that kind of drama.” 

And that was that. In the end, maybe it was a stupid idea after all. He placed a hand on your shoulder, giving you a nod of reassurance as he walked back off.

You took a deep breath, attempting to collect yourself as you reached the top floor when you stopped dead in your tracks. There he was. Remy, standing there, hands in pockets just right in your way, with his usual playful smirk softened by something unreadable in his expression. He straightened up when he saw you, his eyes flickering that made your heart clench.

"Chère," he greeted, voice low and smooth, but you couldn’t bring yourself to respond with the same warmth you usually did.

“Remy,” you replied, trying to keep your tone even, standing still. Though, your emotions stirred uneasily beneath the surface. After everything that had happened, after he’d stood you up and had made the decision to be with someone else, you couldn’t ignore the pang of frustration gnawing at you.

Taking a deep breath, you attempted to steady yourself, but the words you’d been rehearsing came spilling out faster than you expected. "Have you figured out what I mean to you yet?”

His easy smile faltered, and he looked away for a second before meeting your gaze again, regret shadowing his eyes. “Y/N, it ain't like that. I never wanted to hurt ya...”

“But you did, didn’t you?” The question hung between you, heavy and thick with the nights he’d promised and didn’t show, the times you’d let yourself believe he might actually feel the same way.

His hand reached out, but you pulled back before he could touch you. "I waited for you, Remy. I thought—” You trailed off, hating the vulnerability in your voice, but there was no point hiding it now. “I thought we had something.”

He looked down, rubbing the back of his neck, frustration clear in his stance. “Y/N, you mean a lot t’ me, but Marie... she’s somethin’ I just can’t let go of. She’s always been there in a way I can’t explain.”

You swallowed hard, nodding slowly, the ache in your chest settling as a numbness began to take its place. “I see.”

“No, chère,” he protested softly, stepping closer, his expression earnest. “I care for ya, but Rogue... she’s part o’ me.” He shook his head, struggling to find the right words, but they felt like nothing more than just empty echoes.

In the silence that followed, you took a step back, pressing your arms around yourself to hold together the pieces of your heart that felt like they were splintering apart.

"Fine. Let’s just pretend it never happened."

With that, you turned and left him standing there, resisting the urge to look back. If you stayed, you’d only keep finding yourself hoping for something that would never be. Remy reached out as if to stop you, but you turned, stepping away before he could say anything more, with your footsteps echoing against the quiet walls of the mansion. You were done letting yourself be second place.

As you reached for your door, you took a shaky breath, attempting to swallow the wave of emotions that had been threatening to burst free. You’d tried for so long to keep those feelings buried, to push them aside and pretend that things didn’t affect you as much as they did. But tonight, it felt impossible. You would do anything to get back at him, just as he did to you.

Just as you were about to turn the doorknob and enter your room, a voice behind you broke the silence. “You sure you’re alright?”

Startled by his voice, you turned, finding Logan standing there.

He’d seen it, hadn’t he? The hurt, the anger, what had just happened a few moments earlier...he couldn’t have just let it go unnoticed.

As you stood there, still reeling from your conversation with Remy, Logan’s voice broke through your thoughts. His tone was unusually gentle, his gaze fixed on you.

“I, uh, heard some of that back there,” he admitted, his voice low. “...Kinda hard not to.”

You nodded, letting out a sigh of defeat. “Yeah...”

Logan took a moment to steady himself, his expression shifting as he gathered himself before speaking again. “So, you’re done waiting around for him to make up his mind?”

“Completely done,” you replied, crossing your arms. “I’m tired of this backup shit.”

He chuckled. “Sounds like Gambit and Jean could use a wakeup call...” His tone turned mischievous, and you could almost see the thoughts racing behind his eyes. “You up for causing a little trouble?”

“What do you have in mind?” you asked, intrigued.

Was he actually reconsidering what you told him?

“You know... I thought about what Morph said to you, after hearing all that earlier,” he admitted, looking a bit conflicted. “At first, I figured it really was just them stirring the pot, trying to rile us up. But then...” He trailed off, rubbing a hand over his jaw, clearly gathering his thoughts. “Then I started thinking that maybe they were onto something.”

You blinked, surprised by the unexpected confession. Logan, of all people, wasn’t one open to change, let alone do something like this.

 “If they want to ignore what’s right in front of them, maybe they need a reason to think twice. We show up, give ‘em a taste of what it feels like to be on the outside looking in. You and me... pretending we’re hitting it off.”

Your eyes widened.

 It was simple, maybe a bit petty, but the thought of flipping the tables felt too satisfying. And this was an opportunity that might never come again.

 “So, you’re saying... we should act like we’re into each other?”

“Exactly,” he replied. “A few meaningful looks and some well timed moments. It’ll have them second guessing everything they thought they knew about us.”

“Tempting,” you admitted, still in thought about wanting to go with this crazy idea, but still hesitant on what could happen from it. You took a deep breath, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves.

“Okay, I’m in. But we need to set some ground rules; no crossing lines, and we keep it strictly for show.”

“Deal.” Logan extended his hand, and you shook it, sealing the agreement with a firm grip.

. . .

As you settled into bed that night, you stared up at the ceiling, replaying the day’s events in your mind. The idea sounded nice at first, and maybe it was originally Morph playing along, trying to play matchmaker. But now it was official. 

And you had no idea what you were about to get yourself into. 

chapter 4 - what we act

You woke up to the muted light of morning, filtering through the curtains. Your mind was already racing with thoughts of the day ahead. Today, you’d be putting the plan into action with Logan, and the uncertainty tormented you. How would it feel to pretend to be something you weren't? Taking a deep breath, you got out of bed, bracing yourself for whatever might unfold.

Making your way to the kitchen for a quick breakfast, you hoped to dodge any awkward encounters, but there he was. Logan stood at the counter, stirring coffee with an unreadable expression as he leaned against the counter, lost in thought.

As soon as he noticed you, a small smirk played on his lips, something almost conspiratorial. “Mornin’,” he said casually, but there was a spark in his eye that hadn’t been there before.

 He definitely had something in mind. 

“Morning,” you replied, trying to play it cool as you grabbed a glass of water. The room felt heavy with unspoken tension, and despite your best efforts, you couldn’t help but feel a bit self conscious under his stare.

Logan set down his mug, his expression shifting to something slightly more serious. “You still up for this?” he asked, voice low, and quiet enough that no one else would overhear.

You took a deep breath, giving a decisive nod.

A moment later, you heard footsteps in the hallway, followed by the unmistakable sound of Jean’s laughter. Logan gave you a subtle nod, the silent signal that it was time to begin. You took a step closer to him, glancing up through your lashes just enough to catch his eye.

He responded immediately, slipping his arm around your waist and pulling you in, his hands lingering beneath the hem of your pants, just enough for the warmth of his touch to spread over you like a shockwave. “Play along,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

You tried to settle your heartbeat as the footsteps grew closer. Jean and Scott rounded the corner, stopping abruptly when they saw the two of you standing so close, Logan’s arm around you, that spoke of something far more than friendship. You saw the flicker of surprise on Jean’s face, quickly masked with a forced smile, and a hint of something else in Scott’s usual stoic expression.

“Oh,” Jean said, voice a touch higher than usual, “Good morning, you two.”

Logan just nodded, that small, mischievous smile barely hidden. “Mornin’, Jean. Scott.”

Jean’s gaze flicked between you two, as though trying to piece together how she’d missed this...development. Her eyes lingered on you, a flash of something unreadable crossing her face, and you had to resist the urge to smirk. You were definitely giving them both something to think about.

Scott cleared his throat, trying to break the strange silence. “Didn’t realize... you two were so close.”

Logan’s arm tightened around you just a bit. “Well, there’s a lot people don’t realize,” he replied smoothly. The double meaning wasn’t lost on you, and the flicker of jealousy in Jean’s eyes told you it wasn’t lost on her either. You were tensed up in his embrace, and it didn’t help that your body was heating up right at that moment. Your throat was suddenly dry, struggling to utter a single word.

Scott's eyes shifted between you and Logan, his normally composed expression giving way to slight discomfort. Jean, on the other hand, tried to maintain her composure, but you could see the question in her eyes, the slight arch of her brow as if she was piecing things together.

“Well,” Jean said, attempting a breezy tone, “it’s... nice to see everyone getting along.” But her gaze had more to elaborate, the forced smile not quite reaching her eyes.

“Yeah, who knew?” Logan replied, his smirk turning just a little more smug as he pulled you closer. He was playing it up perfectly, and the look of surprise on both their faces was strangely satisfying.

Scott gave a polite nod, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processed the scene. “Right. Well, don’t let us interrupt.”

With that, he turned, gesturing for Jean to follow him down the hall. As they walked away, she cast one last glance over her shoulder, her expression unreadable but unmistakably intrigued.

When they were out of your vision, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Logan finally released you, a satisfied look in his eyes.

“See? That wasn’t so hard,” he said, his tone teasing, still laced with an undercurrent of seriousness.

“Yeah, but this was just a warm up,” you replied, a smile creeping onto your face despite the nerves churning in your stomach. “We’re going to have to keep going with this...show of ours.”

“Just keep it casual, and we’ll be fine.” Logan replied, getting up from his chair. He didn’t step away immediately, though; the space between you felt more charged than it had any right to be. His hand lingered again. This time, near yours on the counter, close enough that you could feel the warmth, and for a fleeting moment, it was quite easy to forget that this was all just for show.

You cleared your throat, shifting back slightly, giving yourself some breathing room. “Right, casual,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant. 

The silence stretched, comfortable but weighted, almost feeling the unspoken change in his gaze.

“You’re overthinking it,” he murmured, his eyes glinting with a familiar spark. “If you keep acting like it’s a big deal, they’ll notice.”

You felt a slight heat creep up your neck, but shrugged it off. “I’m not overthinking,” you shot back, attempting to keep your tone light. “Just making sure I’m... convincing.”

He stepped a little closer, eyebrows raised in amusement. “Convincing? More like being stiff.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Not true.”

“Y/N, you looked like you had a stick up your ass.”

“I’m doing my best, okay? It doesn’t just happen overnight.”

Logan’s expression stayed steady. “Good,” he said, his voice softer but still direct. “That’s all we need.”

You took a breath, nodding slowly, feeling the weight of his words. “It’s just... a lot to think about.”

“Then don’t overthink it,” he replied with a slight grin. “We’re just giving them a show. Keep it simple, don’t force anything. They’ll see what they want to see.”

You nodded, only then remembering that once again, you had to continue this show of yours. You and Logan would be heading out on a mission tonight, with you alongside him. Together. They hadn’t told you who else would be joining, which left a gash of uncertainty in the pit of your stomach.

“Right, the mission,” you replied, trying to shake off any leftover tension. “No pressure, right?”

Logan chuckled softly, “No pressure at all. Just another night making sure no one dies.”

“Yeah,” you took a small breath, a smile breaking through your nerves. “And pretending to be in a relationship.”

“Remember to keep it simple,” he reminded you, a tease in his tone, while on your gaze before he walked off. “And maybe, if you’re lucky, I’ll let you take the lead.”

 A knot of anxiety formed in your stomach as he left you alone in the kitchen. The mission ahead felt daunting enough, and the thought of maintaining the pretense of a relationship with him sent your mind racing. 

This wasn’t going to be so easy.

chapter 5 - what we suppress 

The evening air was cool and crisp as you made your way to the X-jet with Logan, Scott, and Marie, who was adjusting her gloves in silence. Scott’s gaze was steady, his expression all business, but you caught the slight hesitation as his eyes passed over you and Logan. Logan noticed too, throwing a quick, almost smug grin Scott’s way as he placed a casual hand on your shoulder. The warmth of his touch caught you off guard, but you willed yourself to keep a neutral expression, feeling the cool, easy role settling over you.

Marie, catching the gesture out of the corner of her eye, raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. If anything, the faintest hint of a smile tugged at her lips, like she knew something Scott didn’t. Scott, meanwhile, looked at Logan and then back at you with an expression somewhere between surprise and doubt, but he stayed quiet.

“Alright, listen up,” Scott began, folding his arms as he launched into the mission brief. “Intel indicates there’s a cache of prototype weapons and possibly experimental compounds stashed in the warehouse. Marie and I will sweep the perimeter. Logan, you will take the inner corridor. Y/N, secure the samples if you find any. We need evidence, so keep it quiet, keep it subtle, and stay on comms.”

“Understood,” Logan replied, the lazy smirk still lingering as he squeezed your shoulder for effect. You fought back the urge to shove him off, partly because his touch felt oddly...reassuring, but mostly because Scott’s slight frown felt like its own kind of victory. And seeing it any longer would make you cry of laughter. 

The X-jet lifted off, slicing through the night sky. You shifted your attention to watching your surroundings, taking a seat besides Logan, glancing at Scott who began to outline the plan once more.

“Alright, everyone. We’ll be approaching the warehouse in ten minutes. Rogue and I will cover the perimeter while you two head inside. Stay alert,” Scott instructed.

“Roger that,” Logan replied. “You just make sure to keep those laser eyes to yourself.”

“Very funny,” Scott shot back, his tone dry. “Focus on the mission, Logan.”

As the jet soared through the clouds, you glanced at Logan, who wore a smirk that could only be described as infuriatingly charming. “So,” he said, leaning closer. “You ready?”

“Yeah. Guess I'm being your emotional support tonight,” you uttered in a sarcastic manner. It happened almost naturally; turning your mind off to focus on what was ahead, you couldn’t deny it helped your case. “Someone has to keep you in check.”

“Good luck with that,” he retorted with a chuckle. “But I have to admit, having you by my side makes this whole mission a lot more interesting.”

“Glad to hear I can spice up your life, Logan,” you replied, trying to match his nonchalance. “Just don’t get too distracted by my presence.”

“Ah, you must be talking about your ability to look cute while doing nothing.”

You couldn’t help yourself but have a big smirk plastered on your face. “I can assure you, I’ll be doing plenty of ‘nothing’ while you’re busy kicking ass.”

Scott’s voice cracked through, his tone annoyed. “Are you two done flirting? We’re almost at the drop zone.”

“He’s right,” Marie chimed in with a sly grin, glancing over her shoulder at the two of you. “Save the romance for after we’re done.”

Logan’s smirk only grew as he leaned back, crossing his arms. “Don’t worry, Anne. It’s just mission talk. Mostly.”

The jet began its descent, and you felt the subtle shift in atmosphere as everyone went into mission mode. As soon as you touched down, the team moved quickly. Rogue and Scott split off to cover the perimeter as planned, disappearing into the shadows around the warehouse. Logan gave you a quick nod before signaling toward the side entrance, both of you slipping quietly inside.

The place was dark and still, the distant hum of machinery faint in the air. Logan took the lead, moving with a quiet precision that belied his usual rough demeanor. You stayed close, eyes scanning every corner, trying to ignore the fact that he was keeping just a little closer than necessary.

The comms crackled in your ear. “Y/N, Logan, we’re in position,” Scott’s voice came through, steady and calm. “Any movement?”

“Negative,” you whispered back. “Place is dead quiet so far.”

As you moved further into the building, a tense silence settled between you and Logan. He slowed, gesturing for you to check a nearby door while he kept watch. You edged forward, opening it just wide enough to peer inside. The room was packed. Crates, steel tables, shelves lined with sleek weapons and unknown tech. Jackpot.

“Found something,” you whispered into the comm. “Looks like prototype weapons, maybe more.”

“Copy that,” Marie replied. “Get what you can. Scott and I are still clear.”

You quickly snapped photos of the equipment, putting smaller prototypes in your pockets while Logan kept his gaze fixed on the corridor. But as you finished, footsteps echoed down the hallway, breaking the stillness. You froze, eyes darting to Logan, who signaled for you to keep low. You quickly ducked behind one of the tables, as he slid beside you.

“Company.” you murmured.

Logan gave a subtle nod, resting a steady hand over your lips as a signal to keep calm. His fingers lingered for a beat, sparking a warmth you tried to ignore, forcing your attention back to the sounds approaching.

Scott’s voice crackled in your ear. “Status?”

Logan cast you a sideways glance. “Just a little activity. We’re fine.”

The shadow of a guard passed just outside the doorway, pausing for a tense moment. You held your breath, clutching the edge of the table to keep from shifting, as Logan’s hand brushed yours in silent reassurance. The faint metallic clink of the guard’s gear sent a shiver up your spine.

The sound of boots hitting concrete grew louder. Guards. Too many to take head-on, especially in such a confined space. Logan’s sharp eyes darted around before locking onto a supply closet a few feet away. Without hesitation, he pulled you toward it, tugging the door open just wide enough for the both of you to slip inside.

The space was cramped, barely large enough to hold the two of you. Logan’s body pressed against yours as he adjusted his position, his arm braced against the wall to keep from crushing you entirely. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, his warmth seeping through the tension of the moment.

“Really?” you whispered, your tone dry despite the situation. “This is your big plan?”

“Unless you’ve got a better idea, quiet down,” Logan replied, his voice barely above a murmur. His tone was clipped, but there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

The voices of the guards grew closer, and the beam of a flashlight passed just outside the slats of the door. Your breath hitched, and Logan caught the sound, his gaze flicking to yours. He shook his head slightly, silently telling you to stay calm.

The guards paused right outside, their conversation muffled but tense. Logan’s jaw tightened, and his hand instinctively rested near his hip, ready to unsheathe his claws if necessary. But the seconds stretched on, and the guards eventually moved on, their voices fading into the distance.

Logan let out a quiet breath, his eyes flicking to yours. “Told you it’d work.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to ignore the tight space and the way his confidence somehow made the situation feel less suffocating. “Sure, if by ‘work’ you mean nearly giving me a heart attack.”

He shrugged, the movement almost brushing against you. “Heart’s still beating, isn’t it?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the corner of your mouth from twitching upward. “You’re impossible.”

The two of you stepped out, looking back and forth around the room to ensure no one else was around. But the momentary quietness didn’t last for long. 

Shouts from the guards grew louder, their heavy boots pounding against the concrete floors. Logan’s grip on your hand tightened as he tugged you forward, weaving through the maze of corridors.

“This way,” he urged, his voice low but urgent.

You followed close behind, heart hammering in your chest. The narrow hallway gave way to an open loading dock, the cool night air brushing your face like a lifeline. But the guards weren’t far behind.

“There!” one shouted, raising a weapon.

Logan didn’t slow, yanking you behind a stack of crates as bullets ricocheted off the walls. He growled low in frustration, eyes scanning for a way out. Spotting a gap between two trailers, he pointed. “Through there. Go!”

You didn’t hesitate, ducking through the opening and sprinting toward the perimeter fence. The sound of Logan’s claws slicing through the chain link sent a jolt through you. He gestured for you to crawl through first, covering your back before slipping out himself.

The two of you bolted into the cover of the nearby woods, the sounds of pursuit fading into the distance. You quickly turned on your comms for a moment.

“Scott, Rogue—they found us. We’re heading back to the rendezvous point.”

Marie’s voice crackled in response. “Got it. We’re still clear on our end. Stay low, and we’ll meet you there.”

Scott’s voice followed in. “What happened?”

“Guards,” Logan growled, keeping his pace brisk as he scanned the woods for any sign of pursuit. “Too many for subtlety. But we’ve got what we came for.”

“Just make it back in one piece,” Scott replied, an underlying tension in his voice.

“Always do,” Logan said with a smirk, cutting the comm connection before Scott could fire back.

The night pressed in around you, the sound of your breaths and the faint rustle of leaves filling the silence. After a few minutes, you slowed your pace, leaning against a tree to catch your breath. Logan stopped beside you, his sharp eyes still scanning the dark forest.

“You good?” he asked, his voice low but softer than before.

“Yeah,” you managed, your heartbeat finally beginning to settle. “Thanks for the assist back there.”

Logan shrugged, but his smirk didn’t quite reach his eyes this time. “Wouldn’t have let you face that mess alone.”

You gave a small smile, feeling the weight of the moment settle. “Still, you didn’t have to...you know, drag me into that closet.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, and for once, he didn’t have a witty comeback. Instead, he locked eyes with you, something unspoken flickering in his eyes before he finally looked away.

“Come on,” he said, breaking the silence. “We’re not out of the woods yet—literally.”

You rolled your eyes but followed as he led the way through the trees, the faint sounds of the team waiting in the distance.

The treeline opened up to reveal the sleek silhouette of the X-jet, its ramp lowered like a beacon in the darkness. The faint hum of its systems was a welcome sound, promising safety and a chance to catch your breath.

You and Logan dashed through the trees, the X-jet’s ramp now fully lowered, and you kept close, adrenaline propelling you forward. Breathing hard, the two of you made your way to walk inside.

Scott was already at the base of the ramp, his arms crossed and a scowl firmly in place. Marie stood beside him, leaning casually against the side of the jet, her sharp eyes flicking between you and Logan as you approached.

“You cut it close,” Scott said, his voice tight with barely restrained irritation.

“Yeah, well, we ran into a little welcoming party,” Logan shot back, his tone deliberately nonchalant as he marched up the ramp. He didn’t spare Scott a second glance, leaving you to catch up.

You hesitated, brushing a stray leaf from your sleeve as you met Scott’s gaze. “We’re fine. The mission’s intact. That’s what matters, right?”

Scott’s expression didn’t soften, but he gave a curt nod. “Get on board. We’ll debrief on the way back.”

You moved up the ramp, feeling Marie’s amused eyes on you as she followed. “What’s his problem?” you muttered under your breath.

Marie smirked. “Oh, you know Scott. He hates it when things don’t go perfectly. But between you and me...” She glanced toward Logan, who was already settling into his seat. “I think it’s something else that’s got him all twisted.”

Before you could respond, the hatch sealed shut, and the jet hummed to life. Scott took his place at the controls, his movements stiff, while Marie slid into the co-pilot’s seat. You dropped into the seat across from Logan, who leaned back with a sigh, his usual smirk creeping back onto his face.

“Something on your mind?” you asked, keeping your voice low.

“Nah,” he replied, though his tone didn’t match the word. After a beat, he added, “You did good out there.”

The simplicity of the compliment caught you off guard. You nodded, hiding a small smile as you turned your gaze to the window. The X-jet’s engines hummed steadily, the familiar sound almost lulling you into a sense of comfort after the chaos of the mission. You were both finally in the air, the tension of the night starting to dissolve with each mile that passed.

You shifted in your seat, feeling the exhaustion catch up with you. The adrenaline was wearing off, and fatigue hit harder than you expected. Logan, sitting beside you, seemed just as tired but still alert, his eyes scanning the cabin like he was always prepared for the next move.

You leaned slightly toward him, your head subconsciously moving toward his shoulder. At first, you told yourself it was just to ease the aching muscles in your neck, but as you settled against him, something else tugged at your chest. His shoulder was warm, a solid presence that somehow made everything feel a little less chaotic.

“Don’t get used to it,” you murmured, trying to push down the warmth flooding your cheeks.

Logan’s voice was low, teasing, but there was an edge of something softer to it. “Wasn’t planning on it.” He shifted, adjusting his posture to make you more comfortable, but you could tell he wasn’t going to make a joke out of it this time.

You let the quiet settle between you, eyes half-closed as your thoughts wandered. This isn’t supposed to feel this way, you thought, the weight of the moment suddenly heavy in your mind. It’s just supposed to be a game, a distraction. But the more time you spent with him, the more you realized that it was starting to feel like something else. Something real.

As the jet continued its steady flight, you let the thought drift to the back of your mind, pretending it wasn’t there. For now, you’d let yourself stay in this bubble, pretending this whole “fake dating” thing was still just that.

But deep down, you weren’t so sure anymore.

chapter 6 - what we hide

When the X-jet finally touched down at the X-Mansion, you felt a quiet relief. The doors opened with a hiss, and you stepped out first, walking briskly to the conference room where the debrief was set to take place. Scott, Marie, and Jean were already inside, sitting at the long table, their expressions unreadable.

Jean, ever the perceptive one, was the first to look up as you and Logan entered. Her gaze lingered on you both, a quiet smile tugging at her lips, but there was something behind it. A glimmer of knowing that made you feel suddenly exposed.

“Mission accomplished?” Jean asked, her voice warm but with that trademark sharpness that suggested she’d already read through the comms logs.

“Yeah,” Logan replied with his usual gruffness, dropping into a seat beside you. His knee brushed against yours, the contact so subtle it could’ve been an accident. You fought the urge to look at him, to acknowledge the sudden shift in the air.

Scott didn’t waste time getting down to business. He slid a tablet toward you, showing the photos of the prototypes and weapons you’d collected. “Is this all of it?” he asked, his voice more controlled than before, but the underlying tension between him and Logan was still palpable.

“Yeah,” you replied, your eyes still on the tablet. “Everything’s documented. No casualties on our end.” You searched through the pockets of your uniform, putting the mini prototypes down on the table. “And...these too.”

Jean nodded, tapping her fingers lightly on the table. “Good work,” she said, her tone still warm, but there was an edge to it now as her gaze shifted between you and Logan. She seemed to linger on you for a moment longer than necessary, her eyes narrowing just slightly in that knowing way.

“Everything went smoothly?” Jean asked, her voice casual but with a hint of something deeper. “No... surprises?”

You swallowed, not sure if she was referring to the mission or to something else entirely. You glanced at Logan, who was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. His expression was unreadable, but there was something about the way his jaw tightened that gave you the feeling he was just as aware of Jean’s subtle probing as you were.

“Yeah, no surprises,” you said quickly, forcing a smile. “Everything went as planned.”

Scott slid the tablet back toward the center of the table, his gaze lingering on it for a moment before he looked up. “Alright, I think that covers everything. You’ve done good work,” he said, his tone indifferent, but not unappreciative. “Get some rest. I’m sure we’ll have more to discuss soon.”

You nodded, ready to leave the debrief behind you. The tension had been thick in the room, and now that the mission was officially over, you couldn’t wait to take a breath without everyone’s eyes on you.

Logan, however, didn’t move immediately. He turned his head toward you, that familiar, unreadable expression on his face. “You coming?” he asked, his voice low and casual.

You nodded again, standing up. The two of you started toward the door when Jean’s voice stopped you.

“Hold up, Y/N,” she called. “I need to talk to you for a second.”

Marie, who had been standing by the door, gave you a knowing look. Logan glanced at you, his expression unreadable, before shrugging. “I’ll be outside.” He gave you space to handle this, but the shift in the air was undeniable. You felt a wave of unease wash over you.

You hadn’t expected Jean and Marie to corner you after the debrief, but here you were, sitting across from them in the hallway just outside the conference room. You felt the weight of their gaze, the silent question hanging between you.

Jean, always the more subtle one, folded her arms, her smile just a little too knowing. "So," she started, her voice smooth and casual. "How’s everything going? You and Logan, I mean."

You stiffened, caught off guard. Your heart thudded in your chest, and for a moment, you found yourself lost for words. “Uh, it’s good,” you said, your tone a little too light, betraying the nervous flutter in your stomach. “You know, the mission’s over, so...”

Marie raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a teasing smirk. “Yeah, sure,” she said, her tone dripping with that playful sarcasm you’d come to recognize. "It’s just... y’all seem real comfortable around each other, huh? A bit more than just teammates, wouldn’t you say?”

I guess they were really buying it now. This is good.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, what do you mean?”

Marie’s eyes glinted mischievously as she crossed her arms, leaning in just a bit. “Oh, come on, sugar. You two were pretty cozy back there. I’m just sayin’.” She tilted her head in a way that made it clear she was teasing, but there was an edge to her tone that made your heart race, a sudden panic crawling up your spine.

Jean smirked, sensing the discomfort in your response. "I was reviewing the comms from the last mission— must be something going on between you two.” Her voice was lighthearted, but there was something about the way she said it—acting like a couple, that made your chest tighten. You knew she wanted to get something out of you.

You laughed nervously, brushing it off. “It's nothing like that, really. We're just—just getting the job done, you know?” Your voice was a little too fast, a little too defensive.

Marie raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth quaking upward. “Mhm, I bet. But you can’t deny the vibes, sugar.” She shot a glance at Jean before continuing, her tone more teasing. “Just like how Scott’s been all mopey over Jean lately... though, we all got our own little dynamics going on.”

Jean nodded, the smile never quite fading. “You and Logan, Scott and I, and—” she paused, glancing at Marie, “Remy...and Marie. It’s funny how these things just...happen, huh?” Her words had a casual air, but you could tell she was trying to gauge your reaction.

You felt your throat tighten at the mention of Remy.

Gambit. 

Right. 

You knew you were technically pretending to be with Logan, but hearing it brought you back to reality. You weren't a real couple. You just had to keep reminding yourself of that. But... the way they were talking about their relationships so casually, it felt so much more real.

Marie’s smile softened a bit as she leaned in closer. “It’s okay, sugar. You don’t have to have it all figured out with him right away. Just take your time. I mean, things with Logan can be... complicated.”

Jean nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Logan’s not the easiest to figure out, I know. But he’s got a good heart under all that stubbornness. Just... don’t be afraid to let him in when you’re ready.”

You forced a smile, nodding in agreement even though your thoughts were racing. Pretend. Right. You had to keep it together, keep up the act, even though it was becoming harder to distinguish the lines between reality and the mission.

“Thanks,” you said, clearing your throat. “But it’s really nothing. Just... keeping things professional.”

Marie winked, still teasing. “Alright, sugar. But if you do decide to make it more than just a mission thing, you know where to find me.” Her tone was playful, but there was a softness in it too, a subtle kindness you appreciated.

As you, Jean, and Marie finally parted ways, heading off in different directions, you took a breath, trying to shake the awkwardness that had settled in the pit of your stomach, and made your way to the door.

As you stepped out into the hallway, you spotted Logan just a few paces ahead, his back to you as he walked toward the staircase. He must have been waiting for you, or maybe just lingering after the meeting, but either way, you appreciated his presence to stick around.

“Hey,” you called out, your voice slightly strained as you reached him.

He turned slightly, the hint of a grin tugging at his lips. “How’d it go?” His eyes flicked toward you, searching your face with an intensity that made your heart beat a little faster.

You paused, exhaling a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “It went... fine.” You tried to keep your tone casual, but something in the way you spoke betrayed the uncertainty you felt. “They’re just curious about us.” You couldn't help but add the last part with a slight edge, as if the mere mention of it made your insides twist.

Logan’s brow furrowed, his usual unreadable expression faltering just a bit. “Curious?” His voice was low, like he was still trying to process exactly what that meant.

You nodded, rubbing the back of your neck. “Yeah, well... they think we’re actually a thing. Jean was all smiles, and Marie...” You trailed off, shaking your head as if it would help shake away the unease. “It was just a lot of teasing, I guess.”

A slight chuckle escaped Logan’s lips, and he glanced over at you, his expression unreadable but laced with something... almost like amusement. “You didn’t say anything, did you?”

You shook your head. “No, of course not,” you said, perhaps a little too quickly, but you quickly recovered. “Just enough to keep them satisfied.”

Logan’s expression softened, and he pushed himself off the wall, taking a step closer to you. “Yeah, well, it’s working, I guess,” he said, his voice just a little quieter now, a little less casual. He paused, watching you with a look you couldn’t quite decipher. “But maybe we should kick it up a notch, huh?”

You blinked, unsure if you’d heard him correctly. “Kick it up a notch?”

Maybe it was a joke, or maybe it wasn’t. You couldn’t tell.

You swallowed, trying to keep your cool, but something about the way he looked at you stirred something beneath the surface. “Well, I wouldn’t mind,” you said, your voice a little quieter than you intended, as your faces grew uncomfortably close.

Logan’s smirk faltered just for a moment, and you could feel the shift in the air around you. He didn’t immediately respond, the space between you both suddenly charged with something you weren’t sure you were ready for. He blinked, almost surprised, but then leaned back with a casual shrug as if to shake it off.

“Yeah, well,” he muttered, eyes narrowed, “I guess it wouldn't hurt.”

 His tone wasn’t as teasing as it would have been, which was a bit unexpected in your eyes. You tried not to think much of it. This was a fake relationship, after all. 

For a moment, neither of you moved. Your faces were so close now that you could feel the heat of his breath, your pulse racing in your ears. Logan held your gaze, and you saw that flicker of something deeper. Something that didn’t quite match the playful tone of his words.

But, just as quickly as it appeared, he brushed it aside with a half-hearted wink and a shrug. "Guess we’ll figure it out as we go along, huh?"

You nodded, a quiet tension still hanging in the air. As he turned and walked toward the stairs, you lingered, fighting the urge to follow him, the strange weight of the moment heavy on your chest.

One thing was for sure; things were definitely not as simple as they seemed anymore.

And though you couldn’t pinpoint what specifically, it was there.

chapter 7 - what we share

You watched Logan retreat upstairs until he disappeared around the corner, the faint scent of cigars along with it. The rest of the team had either gone to bed, or disappeared into their own corners of the mansion, leaving you alone with your thoughts. It was strange, how a place so full of people could feel so empty. You didn’t want to sleep just yet, your mind wide awake from the teasing Jean and Rogue had done just minutes ago. Lost in thought, you heard your stomach grumble.

A snack sounded better than staring at the ceiling for hours.

The mansion was quiet, save for the occasional creak of old wood settling. You reached to open the fridge, it's cold light spilling over shelves of leftovers and mismatched condiments. You grabbed a soda and some crackers, shutting the door with a quiet thud.

The voice startled you, making you jump slightly. You turned to find Logan leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, that unreadable look still firmly planted in his eyes. The surprise faded into a familiar calm.

“You always raid the kitchen this late?”

The voice startled you, and you turned to find Logan leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, that same unreadable look in his eyes.

“I thought you just went upstairs?” you replied, keeping your tone light. “What’s your excuse?”

He smirked faintly, stepping inside. “I don’t really sleep. Figured I’d hang with you instead.”

You raised an eyebrow, popping open the soda. “That your way of saying you’re hungry?”

Logan shrugged, grabbing an apple from the counter. “Maybe. The girls kept you wide awake, huh?”

You hesitated, the soda can cooling your hand. “More like the mission from today,” you admitted, leaning back against the counter. “Feels like I’m still out there, you know? Like my body made it back, but my head didn’t.”

Logan nodded, grabbing an apple from a nearby bowl of fruits, biting it hard. “It’s normal. First few times, it messes with you. Then it just...sticks with you differently.”

“Comforting,” you said dryly, and he chuckled.

Before either of you could say more, another voice broke the moment.

“You two always this chatty at midnight, or am I just lucky?”

You turned to see Scott standing in the doorway, his arms crossed, a disapproving tilt to his head.

Logan rolled his eyes. “Relax, Summers. We’re not plannin’ a coup.”

Scott gave a slight smirk but didn’t lighten much. “So are you two... a thing now?” he asked, his tone playful but still searching. "Or just the late-night hangout type?"

You felt a sudden awkwardness settle in the room, and Logan’s posture stiffened for a moment before he smirked, looking back at you to respond.

“A bit of both.” you replied, your voice a little quieter than you intended. You glanced at Logan, unsure of how much to say, or if you even wanted to say anything at all. The last thing you wanted was to dive into an explanation that neither you nor Logan had figured out yet.

Logan’s eyes flickered to yours. "Yeah, something like that."

 “Right. Well, if you’re both done with your midnight snack, and well...cracking your little situation, the danger room isn't going to run itself tomorrow.” He looked at you, his expression softening just a fraction. “Take care of yourself, alright?”

He left without another word, his footsteps echoing down the hall.

Logan finished his apple, tossing the core into the trash. “He means well,” he said, almost grudgingly.

“Yeah,” you said, setting your soda down, taking a bite of some crackers. “Doesn’t make it any less annoying sometimes.”

Logan smirked, pushing off the counter. “Well, you heard the man. Get some sleep. Big day tomorrow.”

“I will.” you replied, taking a small sip of your soda once again. You noticed Logan’s expression, lost in thought about something in particular. He stood near the hallway door, contemplating going on with his own endeavors, or staying with you. Either way, it was obvious the two of you weren’t planning to go sleep anytime soon. Not yet. 

“So, speaking of cracks,” you began, the words coming out slower than you expected. “You ever had anyone, you know, break through yours?”

Logan’s eyebrow twitched. “What, you mean, like, past loves?” His tone was neutral, almost shaking his head back to reality.

You nodded, curious but not pushing. “Yeah. It doesn’t have to be deep or anything. Just... someone who actually made you feel like you were seen, I guess.”

Logan glanced down at his feet, chewing on the inside of his cheek for a moment. He didn’t respond immediately, but you didn’t expect him to. Logan wasn’t exactly one for talking about his past.

Eventually, he let out a breath, his voice quiet. “Yeah, a few. Doesn’t last long, though. When you’ve lived through what I have, it’s hard to let anyone in too close.”

You gave him a sidelong glance, your lips curling into a small grin. “Yeah, I get that. But it’s funny, still willing to fake date someone, even with all that baggage.”

Logan’s eyes flickered toward you, the corners of his mouth twitching in what might have been a smile if he wasn’t so stubborn. “Don’t read too much into that,” he muttered.

“I’m just saying,” you teased, leaning against the counter with a raised eyebrow. “If you can pull that off, maybe letting someone in isn’t as impossible as you make it sound.”

Logan rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of amusement there, just barely. “Fake dating is a hell of a lot easier than the real thing,” he grumbled, clearly trying to avoid admitting anything deeper.

“Sure, but it’s still a step,” you shot back with a shrug. “Maybe next time you won’t need a cover story.”

Logan paused at the cabinet door, hand on the handle, probably to get another snack, but he didn’t open it right away. He looked over his shoulder, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "You seem pretty sure about all this relationship stuff now," he said, voice low and teasing. "Didn't know you were such an expert."

You chuckled, leaning back against the counter with your arms crossed. "Oh, I'm not," you replied, giving a small shrug. "Just trying to figure it out. I mean, we all have our baggage, right?"

Logan’s eyes darkened slightly, and he stepped closer again, almost instinctively closing the distance between you two. There was a shift in his gaze, a flicker of something else, something a little more raw. "Yeah. Baggage," he muttered. 

“I’ve got enough to fill a warehouse,” he added, for a short moment; his voice still rough, but edged with a dark humor. "Doesn't mean I’m looking for someone to help carry it."

“I understand,” you said quietly, your eyes lowering as you reached for your soda again. You took a small sip, gathering your thoughts. “I’ve got my own baggage too. Probably more than I’d like to admit.”

Logan didn’t say anything, but you could feel his attention on you, steady and unwavering. He let go of the cabinet door, walking slowly to where you were seated. 

“I get why you’d rather keep your distance,” you continued, your voice quieter now, your fingers lingering close to your soda can. “I think... I think I’ve been doing the same thing, just in my own way. Maybe I’ve been keeping people at arm’s length, too.” You met his gaze then, your eyes a little hesitant. “Maybe because I’m scared. Scared of getting hurt again, or worse, scared of realizing I was never really enough in the first place.”

Logan’s gaze softened, just a little, and his lips parted to say something. He hesitantly placed a hand on your shoulder.

“You’re more than enough,” he said, his voice quieter than before, a hint of sincerity lacing his words. The way he looked at you, like he was trying to convey something else without saying it directly— it made your heart skip a beat.

You didn’t respond immediately. Instead, you just stood there, feeling the weight of his hand, and the moment. There was something about Logan that made you want to let your guard down, to let him see parts of you you refused to show anyone else. Something about the way he didn’t push, didn’t demand anything from you, he just let you be you. Authentically you.

It was never like that was Remy. No, not even. You wished.

“So, fake dating aside,” you replied, eyes darting away, interrupting the silence. “Do you ever think about what you’d want... if you actually did date someone? For real, I mean.”

"For romance..." he muttered, as if the word tasted foreign on his tongue. His gaze drifted, not quite meeting yours, as if searching for something in the air between you. He sat beside you now, arms on the table counter. 

"I guess it’s easier when someone’s already... taken, you know?" He finally met your eyes, an expression of something you couldn’t quite place in them. "It’s, well, you care about someone but you don’t have to act on it. Don’t have to figure out all the mess of... well, actually being with them. You can care from a distance, and that feels safer. That’s all." His voice was low, a little rough, but there was no bitterness in it, just a resigned honesty.

You didn’t say anything at first, processing what he’d said. It was a strange admission, and yet it made a twisted kind of sense. Logan had always kept his emotions buried so deeply, so well-hidden, that hearing him open up almost caught you off guard.

He cleared his throat, breaking the quiet. "I’m not saying I’m some kind of martyr or anything. I mean, Scott and Jean have their thing. I’ve got my... Well, whatever the hell this is." He waved his hand vaguely in the space between you jokingly, but his eyes didn’t leave yours. "But yeah, it’s easier that way. You don’t have to deal with the what-ifs, the risks. You just... live in the moment and let it go."

“Sounds like you’ve got it figured out,” you said, chuckling, trying to keep the mood light, but even you could feel the pain of his words. “The whole ‘keep it at a distance’ thing.”

Logan’s lips curled into a small, humorless smile, but there was a hint of sadness in it, too. “Figured out? Nah.” He leaned forward slightly, his elbows on his knees, still looking at you with that same unguarded look. “It’s just... easier to not feel too much. You know?” His voice was quieter now, and for a moment, you thought he might say more.

You didn’t push. You didn’t need to. You understood. You both had your own ways of coping, your own defenses, and the idea of letting anyone in too close felt dangerous. Too uncertain.

"Yeah," you said softly, a smile tugging at your lips despite the heaviness of the moment. "I get that. It’s easier to... not care too much, right?"

“If I care too much, they’ll get hurt in some way. Ain’t easy, letting someone in."

"Well,” you paused. “I still think the right person would help with the mess. Maybe it doesn’t have to be so...scary. More of just being there when things get messy."

For a moment, there was silence, and you both sat there. Logan’s eyes softened, just a fraction, and you saw the smallest shift in his expression. It wasn’t much, but it was there, something opening up, if only for a moment.

"Maybe," he said quietly, looking down at his hands. "But for now, I think I’m good with the fake dating thing."

“Yeah,” you said, your voice soft with a quiet understanding. “For now, we’re good.”

Logan stood up slowly, stretching his shoulders with a quiet grunt. "Well, we’ll see what the future holds," he said, his smirk returning, though it was lighter this time. "Get some sleep. Don’t forget about tomorrow.”

You nodded, your smile faint but genuine. "Yeah, I won’t, don’t worry. Thanks, Logan."

He gave you a small nod before turning toward the door. As his footsteps echoed down the hall, you stayed in the kitchen for a while longer. You never realized how easy everything was with Logan. You understood each other a bit too well.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

chapter 8 - what we break

The early morning silence greeted you as you pulled yourself out of bed. You stifled a yawn, stretching as the cool air nipped at your skin. Training day. No missions, no more disasters, just time in the danger room, blowing off some steam without needing to worry about anything else.

You moved through your routine, pulling on your workout gear and splashing cold water on your face to wake up properly. Training days weren’t always your favorite, but they offered a sense of normalcy in an otherwise chaotic life. At least, that's what you said, confronted by anyone who didn’t understand.

That optimism is what carried you all the way to the Danger Room. Standing in thought with your earphones in. As the doors hissed open, your steps faltered when you caught sight of who was already there.

Logan.

And Remy.

They were sparring in the center of the room, their movements fluid yet calculated, each step and strike of power and precision. Logan's growls punctuated the sharp clash of their practice weapons, while Remy’s easy smirk didn’t falter, even as he narrowly dodged an incoming blow.

Your stomach dropped.

Before you could run off before they noticed, Remy caught sight of you out of the corner of his eye and called out, “Morning, chère. You here to watch or join in the fun?”

You held out one of your earphones and froze, like a deer caught in headlights. Words failed you as your brain scrambled to come up with something, anything—that wouldn’t make you seem out of place.

Logan’s head turned at Remy’s greeting, his sharp gaze locking on you. His expression was neutral, but something about the slight tilt of his head made it feel like he was sizing you up.

“Oh, uh—yeah,” you stammered, stepping further inside before you could talk yourself into running the other way. “Thought I’d... get some training in.”

Remy straightened, tossing the staff he’d been holding to his other hand with a cocky flourish. “Perfect timing, non? We could use a fresh pair of eyes. Logan’s got his claws out today.”

You laughed awkwardly, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Yeah, I can see that.”

Logan grunted, brushing past Remy and heading to the weapons rack. “You just gonna stand there or jump in, bub?”

Before you could respond, another voice chimed in.

“Well, this is going to be good,” Morph’s familiar voice drawled from the corner. They were leaning against the wall, arms crossed, their mischievous grin on full display. Clearly, they've been watching the whole thing, and from the look on their face, they weren't planning on missing a second of what was about to unfold.

You threw Morph a glare, but it only made them grin wider. Great. An audience.

“Uh, I’m good for now,” you said quickly, waving a hand. “Just warming up.”

You moved to the farthest available spot on the mat, your face heating under the weight of Logan’s and Remy’s lingering gazes. As you stretched, you could feel Morph’s eyes on you, too, like they were silently narrating every awkward twitch and stumble in your movements.

Trying to ignore them, you dropped into a stretch, but your limbs felt stiff, and your balance was off. Every now and then, you caught snippets of the sparring behind you. Remy’s smooth banter clashed with Logan’s gruff responses, the sound of their training weapons striking echoing through the room.

“Keep up, old man,” Remy quipped, his voice light as he sidestepped one of Logan’s swipes with infuriating ease.

Logan snorted, stepping forward with a calculated swing that nearly clipped Remy’s side. “Watch yourself. I’m just warmin’ up.”

You winced, fumbling mid-stretch. Morph’s muffled laugh caught your ear, and you shot them another look over your shoulder.

“What?” they asked innocently, though his smirk said otherwise.

“You’re distracting,” you muttered, focusing on your stretches again.

They chuckled, leaning casually against the wall. “I’m not the one completely flushed out.”

“I’m not flushed,” you snapped under your breath, though the evidence was plainly there.

Morph snickered, their ability to make you squirm practically a superpower in itself. “Sure, sure. And I’m not morphing into Gambit to test your poker face next.”

You groaned internally, pretending to ignore them as you tried to focus on the stretches. The sharp clang of Logan’s claws retracting pulled your attention for a brief second, and you couldn’t help but glance over.

Logan, as ever, was no-nonsense, brushing off one of Remy’s quips as he grabbed a towel from the bench. But when his gaze flicked toward you, sharp and assessing, your heart stumbled. Did he know how awkward and embarrassing this felt? Being forced to be with the guy you maybe still liked, along with your fake boyfriend?

 He probably smelled it. 

“Looks like she’s gonna warm up all morning,” Logan remarked gruffly, the corners of his mouth twitching upward just slightly. “You plan on actually doin’ anything, princess? Or you gonna keep flailin’ over there?”

Your head snapped toward Logan at the jab, and your hands dropped to your sides, clearly annoyed. 

"I’m stretching. It’s called preparation. Maybe you should try it sometime."

Remy’s laugh rang out before Logan could reply, a smooth, teasing chuckle that grated on your already frayed nerves. "You keep talkin’ like that, you’ll rile him up more than me."

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest as you glanced between the two of them. "You’re both impossible."

“Aw, don’t be like that," Remy said, stepping closer, his ever-present smirk softening just a touch. "We’re just havin’ a little fun. No harm, non?"

You forced yourself to stay still, but every inch of your body wanted to react. Remy’s words felt like a mockery. Your stomach twisted from all of it. There was something in the way his tone lingered, in the flicker of his red eyes towards Logan, that made your blood simmer. 

You then turned towards Logan, of why you’d roped him into this in the first place. Gambit, Remy, the one who had broken your heart, had stood you up weeks prior, leaving you feeling small and humiliated. The worst part? He didn’t even seem to remember. But you did.

Meanwhile, Logan's expression was as unreadable as ever. Carved from stone, he gave away nothing, and yet you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else. Was he irritated? Amused? Or was it something else entirely? Whatever it was, it only bothered you more.

You gritted your teeth, stretching through the awkwardness while Logan and Gambit lingered too close for comfort.Remy was still smirking like he was in on some private joke, and Logan, for all his gruffness, didn’t seem to mind the tension he’d stirred up. You stole a glance at Morph, who, to his credit, had the decency to mime zipping his lips after Logan’s warning, but his eyes still sparkled with mischief.

With a sharp inhale, you pushed yourself up from your stretch and took a step toward Logan. “You’re right,” you said loud enough to catch both of their attention. “I should stop warming up and actually do something.”

Logan raised a brow, the faintest hint of amusement flickering in his expression. His arms were crossed, his posture relaxed, but there was a tension in his gaze, like he was waiting to see just what you were up to.

With deliberate steps, you closed the space between yourself and Logan. His expression shifted slightly, confusion mixed with curiosity, his body stiffening just enough for you to notice. When you stopped in front of him, his brow furrowed further.

Despite the rapid pounding of your heart, you reached up, cupping the edge of his jaw lightly with one hand, and pressed your lips to his.

The world seemed to still for that brief moment. His lips were firm but warm, slightly chapped, with a roughness that was distinctly Logan. The kiss was soft, unhurried, and intentional. You allowed yourself to linger just long enough to make it convincing, feeling the way his breath hitched almost imperceptibly, the slight tension in his shoulders as though he wasn’t quite sure how to respond.

When you pulled away, his eyes were on you, sharper than ever, and his lips parted just enough to give you the satisfaction of having caught him off guard. His expression was unreadable, a mixture of surprise, intrigue, and something else you couldn’t quite place.

“I’ve changed my mind about joining you two. I’m going for a run.”

You didn’t dare glance back at Logan as you strode toward Gambit, who looked as though someone had just yanked the rug out from under him. His smirk faltered for a split second, just long enough for you to savor the moment. But he recovered quickly, twirling his staff and tilting his head at you as you walked out.

Behind you, Morph let out a low whistle, clearly delighted by the sudden shift in the room’s energy. Logan said nothing, but you could feel his gaze burning into the back of your neck. If you focused hard enough, you might’ve been able to hear the faintest scoff.

As you headed to the outer yard of the X-Mansion, you couldn’t bring yourself to just run just yet. Your mind was still stuck on what happened in the Danger Room. The moment with Logan. The kiss. It felt like an impulsive decision, one that hadn't really been thought through, but in a way, it had felt right.

Mind racing, you were still standing outside the mansion, the weight of what you’d done sinking in. The morning air did nothing to settle your thoughts, only sharpening the confusion swirling in your head. What the hell had you been thinking? You didn’t even have a chance to understand it before your body had already moved. Shaking your head, you walked back inside, your footsteps heavy on the floor.

You’d barely made it to the hallway when you heard the unmistakable heavy footfalls behind you. The sound of Logan’s boots on the floor echoed loudly, and you could feel his presence long before he spoke.

“Thought you were goin’ for a run,” Logan’s voice cut through the silence, low and tinged. He was obviously pissed.

You didn’t turn around. You couldn’t. 

“Changed my mind,” you muttered, your pace never slowing as you reached for your keys. Your mind raced, but you kept your gaze straight ahead, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other.

His footsteps quickened, cutting the distance between you in two long strides until you reached the door to your room. You didn’t stop, but the sound of Logan’s voice, low and tense, made your heart stutter.

“Why the hell’d you do that?” he demanded. 

You finally stopped, but only to face him with your back against the door, your body tensing at the proximity. He stood there, eyes narrowed, like he was waiting for you to crack. His jaw was clenched, and there was an almost predatory tension in his stance.

“You were the one who wanted to kick things up a notch,” you replied. No matter how sarcastic you may have sounded, it was honest.

Logan’s expression flickered, something close to frustration flashing in his eyes. He ran a hand through his hair, barely retracting as he crossed his arms. “That was never what I had in mind.”

You raised an eyebrow, and despite everything, a slight smirk tugged at your lips. “I’m not the one who started sparring with Remy. The last person I want to see. You didn’t exactly make it easy to just sit back and watch.”

He stepped closer, just enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him. His gaze flickered down to your lips for a fraction of a second before locking back onto your eyes. It was intimidating, and you held yourself back from trying to look away.

“I didn't need you to make me look like an idiot,” he muttered, voice low, almost rougher than usual.

You stood there, back pressed against the door, heart pounding in your chest as Logan’s presence loomed just inches away. The room felt smaller with every second that passed in silence.

You heard his voice, low and rough as he leaned in to repeat himself. “Why’d you kiss me?”

Taking a deep breath, you finally spoke. “I didn’t kiss you to mess with your head, Logan.” Your voice was steady now, no sarcasm, no defensiveness; just raw honesty. “But you’re the one who... made me think something else was going on.”

Logan scoffed, that almost sounded like a laugh, while shaking his head taking a step back. “Oh really? The same way you thought you had something else with Gambit?”

“What the fuck, Logan?”

The words caught in your throat, your breath quickening as the sting of his accusation hit harder than you expected. You pushed yourself off the door, taking a step toward him, your voice tight with disbelief. “Don’t you put that on me,” you snapped, pointing a finger to his chest. “You agreed to this.”

“You’re right, I did,” he replied, his eyes burning with something between anger and confusion, maybe even a hint of jealousy. “But you’re the one stuck in some damn fantasy of what could’ve been with that...cajun." 

“I’m not the one pretending like something’s going to happen with Jean.” The words were out before you could stop it.

Logan’s expression hardened in an instant, and the room seemed to freeze. His jaw clenched, muscles tensing under the strain of what you just said. You could feel the air crackling with tension, the unspoken words hanging heavy between you both.

He stepped back, looking at you as if you’d just struck him with something harder than your words. “You think that’s what this is about?” he spat, voice low and dangerous. “You think it’s about her?”

You didn’t back down, your own frustration burning. “Isn’t it?” you shot back, your voice cutting through the thick silence. “You’re stuck in some fantasy about her, too. Hell, everyone can see it. But don’t act like I’m the only one holding onto something that isn’t real.”

Logan let out a sharp exhale, his fingers gripping the edge of his coat, fighting to keep his cool. His eyes, though, were wild now, full of something you couldn’t quite define. “I’m not you,” he growled, the words coming out rough. “I don’t make mistakes like you. I don’t...” He trailed off, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

You took a step toward him, your eyes never leaving his. “And what? You think you’re the only one capable of making mistakes?” you shot back, your voice bitter. “Maybe we’re just not meant to have what we want. Because they could care less, to even bother giving a shit about us.”

The silence that followed was deafening. You could feel the anger, the disappointment of what you’d just thrown into the air. Logan stood there, his chest heaving, and for a moment, neither of you knew what to say.

He finally broke the silence, his voice quieter but no less intense. “I never said I wanted her,” he muttered, staring at the floor for a moment before looking back at you. His expression was as callous as ever, but the way he stared you down; he couldn’t say it himself, but his eyes could.

Your eyes softened from his answer, but the lump in your throat practically stopped you from giving a response. It didn’t help that your head was pounding from how chaotic your nerves had been turned over. Logan let out a frustrated sigh as you had nothing left to say, from his subtleness, and took a step back. His eyes were still on you, but there was a certain finality to his gaze now, something cold and resolute that you weren’t ready to face.

“Forget it,” he muttered, voice clipped, his face unreadable. “Whatever this is—whatever we are—it's done. I’m done.”

Before you could say another word, he turned and walked toward the door, his heavy footsteps echoing in the quiet hallway. You stood there for what felt like an eternity, the weight of the argument crashing down, the finality of it all, and the overwhelming ache in your chest settled deep into your bones.

And god, you hated it.

chapter 9 - what we mend

The days had dragged on like an unending weight. Each glance between you and Logan felt like a punch to the gut, both of you stiffening the moment the other entered the room. You didn’t even need to look at him to know he was avoiding you; his silence was louder than any words could have been. The same could be said for you. It was easier this way. Or so you told yourself.

Since that morning in the danger room, when your lips had lingered a fraction too long on his, everything had become... complicated. What had been a simple, calculated arrangement of a fake relationship, the harmless flirtation, was now tangled in a mess of confusing emotions. Neither of you had addressed it, but the tension between you had only grown thicker.

At dinner, you had barely looked up from your plate. Every time you did, you’d catch Logan glancing in your direction only to quickly look away. His eyes were stormy, unreadable, and it frustrated you more than anything. You couldn’t even remember the last time you’d actually spoken to him, at least not without a stilted awkwardness between you.

The team noticed, of course. Marie, with her usual sharp eyes, had raised an eyebrow at the silent distance between you two. "You two been fightin’ or something?" she’d asked, but you’d merely shrugged, offering a vague response that did little to explain the situation.

Now, as the evening wore on and the mansion fell quiet, the tension was unbearable. The silence in your room felt suffocating, tossing and turning in your bed; and no matter how much you tried to focus on something—anything—to distract yourself, your thoughts kept wandering back to Logan. The way his lips had felt on yours. 

But the line had already been crossed. And you didn’t want to cross any others. 

With a decisive moment, you stood from your bed, slipping on your socks with a swift motion. You had to see him. You just had to know if this feeling—this damnable, undeniable feeling was mutual, or if you were completely losing your mind. 

Your steps were quiet as you walked down the hall, your heart pounding louder than the sound of your footsteps. You reached Logan’s door, hesitating for only a moment before you knocked. The sound echoed in the silence.

"Who’s there?" His voice came through, rough and thick with the weight of the day.

"It's me," you said, and before you could second-guess yourself, you turned the handle, pushing the door open.

Logan was sitting on the edge of his bed, dressed in his iconic white tank top and bootcut jeans. His posture was rigid, as though he were waiting for something. When his gaze met yours, his eyes darkened, but he didn’t say anything. He took another puff from his cigar, which didn’t help how thick the air was between you both. It was almost as if the room itself was holding its breath.

“What do you want?” he asked in slight annoyance.

 “I don’t know,” you muttered, the words coming out harsher than you intended. 

Logan didn’t move, his eyes never leaving yours. There was a tension in the air, something thick and unspoken. The silence stretched between you both like a taut wire, neither of you wanting to touch it, but neither able to ignore it either.

“You could’ve stayed away,” he said, his voice rough, like he was holding back something he didn’t want to admit.

“I know.” you whispered, a pang of guilt in your tone. “Look, I didn’t mean to— I didn’t mean to push you.”

Logan’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, you thought he might just brush it off, but then he spoke again, softer now. “It’s not just you.” His eyes flickered, as though searching for something in you, something he wasn’t ready to admit either. “I didn’t mean to snap at you either. It’s just... it’s easier if we both just pretend it didn’t happen.”

You swallowed, the weight of his words pressing against you, making your chest tighten. “It’s not easier,” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the thick air between you. "It’s not easier for me."

Logan didn’t respond immediately. His eyes dropped to his cigar for a moment, a slight frown tugging at the corner of his lips. He exhaled, letting the smoke curl into the air, his gaze returning to you, but this time there was something different in his eyes. Something that softened the hardness you’d seen earlier.

“Then why the hell are we still doing this?” he asked, his voice low, rough with something that almost sounded like frustration. “Why are we still pretending if it’s this complicated?”

You took a step closer, your pulse quickening with the proximity. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

“I don’t know," you muttered, your voice barely a whisper. "But I can't stop thinking about it—about you. I can’t keep pretending it was just nothing." You looked up, your gaze meeting his, finding him waiting for something, something you couldn’t name.

For a long beat, neither of you moved. Logan’s gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips, his jaw tight, as though fighting something inside him. Then, almost imperceptibly, he shifted forward on the bed, a breath escaping him as if he were finally deciding to let go of whatever restraint he’d been holding onto.

“You’re not the only one,” he muttered, his voice rougher now, barely above a whisper. “I’ve been tryin’ to ignore it, but... hell, you make it hard to forget.”

You took a breath, stepping closer, your body drawn toward him against your better judgment. You could feel the heat between you, the crackling tension that had been building for days now, impossible to ignore any longer.

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, your voice cracking slightly. “I didn’t mean to make things so damn complicated.

Logan’s eyes softened, just slightly, and his hand reached out, brushing the back of your fingers with his. The contact sent a shock through you, like electricity, and you didn’t pull away. Instead, you let him close the gap between you.

“Not your fault,” he said, his voice thick, his hand gently cupping your cheek. “It’s me too. I’m... I’m not good at this shit. But I—” His words faltered, his eyes searching yours for something, anything. “I can’t pretend either.”

You didn’t give him the chance to say anything else. You pulled him toward you, crashing your lips against his. The kiss was hungry, desperate, full of all the unspoken feelings you’d been trying to ignore for so long. Logan’s hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer, as if afraid to let you slip away.

You didn’t think, didn’t hesitate. All the confusion, the frustration, the longing—it boiled over in a wave of heat that left you breathless. His lips were firm against yours, and for a moment, it felt like the world outside didn’t matter. The only thing that existed was the storm between you both, the undeniable pull that had always been there, buried beneath layers of doubt and distance.

When you finally broke away, you were both gasping for air. Logan’s forehead rested against yours, his hands still holding you close as if he needed to keep you tethered to him.

"Shit, I...that didn’t help, did it..." you whispered, your voice shaky, but a faint smile tugged at your lips. You didn’t know if it was a question or a statement, but it didn’t matter.

Logan’s laugh was low and rough, the sound a mixture of frustration and amusement. "No, but I figured as much." he said, but his eyes were still on you, intense, searching for something.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you admitted softly, the words slipping out before you could stop them, your hands lingering on his chest to keep a certain distance. "I—"

Before you could finish, Logan’s lips were on yours again, cutting off any further words. This time, there was no hesitation, no second-guessing. Just need. 

“Shut up.”

His hands moved from your waist to your thighs, gripping you with a possessiveness that made your heart race. The way he touched you felt urgent, almost frantic, like he was afraid you’d slip away if he didn’t hold on tight enough.

Your hands found their way to his chest, feeling the firm muscle beneath the fabric of his tank top, and you pushed yourself closer, needing more of him. His lips were rough against yours, parting briefly for a breath, but you didn’t give him the chance to pull away. You kissed him harder, deeper, as if trying to erase all the space that had ever existed between you.

Logan’s fingers dug into your thighs, lifting you slightly as he pulled you closer, his body pressing against yours with an intensity that left you breathless. You could feel the heat of him through the fabric, and it made every nerve in your body hum with need. His grip on your thighs was firm, possessive, as if he was claiming you in a way that was both comforting and maddening. The way his hands moved, pulling you closer and closer, left you feeling dizzy, lost in the feel of him.

His lips traveled down to your jaw, and you gasped, a shiver running through your body at the feel of his breath on your skin. You couldn’t stop the way your hands wandered, exploring the hard planes of his chest and shoulders, wanting to touch every part of him. His scent, the warmth of his skin, the feel of his rough hands—it was all too much, and yet it wasn’t enough.

You let him take off your shirt, urging him to do the same, and one thing led onto the next.

Logan's hands slid up your sides, his touch firm but gentle, as if he were memorizing every curve of your body. You felt the steady rhythm of his breath against your skin, his lips trailing soft kisses along your collarbone. Each kiss ignited something deep within you, a rush of warmth that spread through every part of you. You moved closer, your hands instinctively reaching for his back, your fingertips grazing the muscles beneath his jeans.

His breath hitched slightly as your fingers brushed the waistband of his jeans, his body tensing at the touch. You could feel the intensity rising between you, the need in his movements, in the way his lips ghosted over yours before finally capturing them again. The kiss was deeper this time, more urgent, as though everything in the world had narrowed down to this single moment.

You pulled back just slightly, your chest rising and falling rapidly, trying to steady yourself. “Logan...” you breathed, your voice shaky as you searched his eyes, trying to read the same urgency, the same longing that mirrored your own. But there was still hesitation there, just beneath the surface. Still, neither of you moved, too tangled in the heat of the moment to do anything but breathe each other in.

His hand slid down your back, resting against the curve of your hip, fingers lightly gripping the fabric of your pants. He pulled you closer again, the intensity of his touch making your pulse quicken. “I know,” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with desire. “Me too.”

And the rest? It could only be described as bliss.

chapter 10 - what we confess

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the warmth. Strong, steady, and unfamiliar in the best possible way. It wasn’t just the weight of the blanket cocooning you or the soft glow of morning light spilling through the curtains. It was him.

And you were in his bed.

Logan’s arm draped across your waist, his fingers loosely splayed over your stomach as though even in sleep, he refused to let you go. His chest pressed against your back, the soft rhythm of his breathing stirring the fine hairs at the nape of your neck.

For a moment, you didn’t move. You didn’t even breathe, afraid that the slightest shift would shatter the fragile peace of the morning. You let yourself sink into it, let yourself feel safe, for once, in the quiet intimacy of it all.

Then his voice, low in a whisper, broke the silence. “You awake?”

You turned your head slightly, catching his sleepy gaze. His hair was a mess, sticking up in all directions, and there was a faint crease on his cheek from the pillow. It was so endearingly Logan, so unlike the composed version everyone else saw, that it made your chest ache.

“Yeah,” you whispered, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

Logan’s lips twitched into a lazy grin. “Good. Thought I might’ve crushed you in my sleep.”

You snorted softly, your fingers reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. “Not even close. Though you do snore.”

“Snore?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Princess, you’re hearing things.”

“Sure,” you teased. “You sounded like a chainsaw. A grumpy one.”

A chuckle rumbled low in his chest, and he tightened his arm around your waist slightly. “Guess I was too comfortable. Not used to sleeping next to someone who doesn’t wake me up kickin’ in their sleep.”

“Don’t test me,” you said with a mock glare, but your smile betrayed you.

His grin widened as he propped himself up on his elbow. “Noted.”

It was a strange kind of comfort, lying tangled together without the unspoken words or half-faked plans hanging over you. But the comfort didn’t last. The two of you had hardly gotten any words out last night, and reality, as always, had a way of creeping back in.

Logan shifted, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at you. His gaze softened, the usual storminess of his eyes replaced with something warmer, something gentler. “We gotta talk.”

You swallowed hard, nodding. “Yeah. We do.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the words you both needed to say hanging heavy in the air. Finally, Logan broke the silence.

“This whole fake-dating thing,” he started, his voice measured, “I didn’t think much of it at first. Figured it’d be a pain in the ass, but... I don’t know. Somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling fake.” He paused, his hand brushing yours lightly. “At least for me.”

Your breath hitched, and you looked away, the weight of his words settling in your chest. “Logan...”

“I know,” he said, cutting you off gently. “I know you were hung up on Remy. And hell, I thought I was hung up on Jean. But the truth is…”

Logan hesitated, his jaw tightening as he searched for the right words.

“She was someone I thought I wanted,” he said, his voice quieter now, like he was speaking more to himself than to you. He glanced away for a beat, exhaling softly, before meeting your gaze again. “But... it was never real. Not like this.”

“This?” you asked softly, your heart thudding in your chest.

“This,” he confirmed, his hand finding yours and curling around it. “You. Us.”

A lump formed in your throat, and you found yourself struggling to speak.

“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to figure it out?” he added, his voice softer now. “How hard it was to just... stand by while you kept lookin’ at him like he was everything?”

Your chest tightened, his words stirring something deep inside you. “I—”

“Don’t,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone. “Don’t say anything you’re not ready to say. Just... be honest with yourself. With me.”

You bit your lip, your eyes dropping to where his hand rested against your cheek. “I don’t think I love him anymore,” you admitted quietly, your voice trembling with the weight of the words. “I thought I did. For so long, I thought I’d never get over him. But now...” You looked back up at Logan, your eyes meeting his. “I can’t imagine myself without you.”

Logan’s lips quivered into a small, almost disbelieving smile. “Good,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “’Cause you’ve been driving me crazy, darlin’. Watching you smile, hearing you laugh... it’s all I’ve wanted for a while now.”

A small laugh escaped you, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned forward, pressing your forehead against his. “We’re a mess, aren’t we?”

“Maybe,” he admitted, his lips brushing yours lightly. “But I don’t mind. Not with you.”

The kiss that followed was slow and deliberate, a stark contrast to the desperation of the night before. This wasn’t about drowning in the moment. It was about finding something real, something worth holding onto. When it finally broke, your foreheads stayed pressed together, both of you breathing in the shared space.

“So, what now?” you asked softly.

Logan smirked. “Guess we stop pretending.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that,” he said, brushing his nose against yours. “You in?”

You smiled, your heart feeling lighter than it had in years. “Yeah. I’m in.”

And as his arms tightened around you, pulling you closer, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you’d already found it.

[dietcokegirly12]

“Needy Boy”

featuring dazai osamu ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

📄✎ᝰ ─── 📄✎ᝰ ─── 📄✎ᝰ ─── 📄

art credit: @chasityblankenship10 on pinterest

📄✎ᝰ ─── 📄✎ᝰ ─── 📄✎ᝰ ─── 📄

tags: handjob, slight voyerism?, office sex, needy dazai, impatient dazai, teasing, dom!reader, possibly more

KINKTOBER OCT. 5 ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ ཐི ₍^. ̞.^₎ ཋྀ ་༘࿐

┈┈ ∘ ∘ ∘ ⚯ ∘ ∘ ∘ ┈┈ ∘ ∘ ∘ ⚯ ∘ ∘ ∘ ┈┈ ∘ ∘ ∘ ⚯ ∘ ∘ ∘

You stared down at the paperwork Fukuzawa had dropped off at your desk, a tall stack of white papers neatly stacked and paper-clipped together with the title of the latest mission you had led against the Guild.

You sighed, rubbing your eyes. You would be stuck at the office for a while more.

Looking over, you see your coworker, Dazai staring at you with half-lidded brown eyes, his attention rapt on you.

You and Dazai weren’t exactly in any sort of relationship, but one time after a particularly rough mission, you had been sharing a room and it became a matter of convenience. It was now common for between or before missions for you to find each other for a quick fuck but now was really not the time.

“Whatcha doing?”

You were jolted out of your reverie from a familiar sultry voice right next to you.

Turning to face him, you sighed internally.

“Dazai.” you said coolly, folding your arms across your chest.

“Bella,” he purred, his eyes as mischievous as ever. “Don’t give me that look. You know you want me just as much as I..”

“What do you want?” you said sharply, cutting him off. “I have stuff to do.”

He leans closer to you, his eyes dark and sparkling. “Well bella, that’s just the problem. So do I, but I can’t seem to focus with your presence so close.”

“Not my problem,” you say simply, turning your attention back to your papers, printing the details of the mission in black ink, and trying to ignore his proximity, and the intoxicating scent of him so close.

“Oh but yes it is.” His silky voice cuts through any focus you had on your work, as do his warm, slender fingers wrapping around your wrist, and lifting your hand to drop it over his lap, where you can feel a hard bulge straining through his tan slacks.

You inhale sharply, and instinctively curl your fingers around him, drawing a slight gasp from him as his hips shift further into your touch.

“Dazai!” you hiss, retracting your hand almost immediately, drawing a small involuntary whine from him. “We’re at work!”

He moves closer to you, so his thigh brushes yours, looking up at you with big brown eyes, his breath slightly shaky. “No one is even near us. They’re out at lunch. Just please. Need it so bad.”

You look into his pitiful, brown eyes practically begging for you to touch him, and the way his pants strain tightly around the slight outline of his cock.

You stare at him for a second more, but you can never quite say no to those eyes.

With a resigned breath, you place your hand over his bulge again, rubbing slightly.

He immediately lets out a sigh of relief and pleasure, his head lolling slightly.

“Not a sound.” you warn, your hand tightening slightly.

He nods, his lips tightly pressed together.

And slowly, you reach for his zipper, pulling it down slowly and slipping your hands into his pants to pull out his hardened cock.

You would never say it, but Dazai had a very pretty dick. It was flushed pink, leaking precum from the tip and was very long, jutting up proudly against his stomach.

He shifted slightly, opening his legs wider with a small sigh.

You slowly pumped him, sliding your finger against his slit and smearing precum down his length as a lubricant.

His hips lifted and stuttered as he watched you, his breathing becoming heavier.

You tightened your grip slightly, watching as more precum spilled out.

“Such a slut,” you sighed. “Couldn’t even wait until we got off work.”

He whimpered at this, a needy look on his face as he bit his lip.

Your hand picked up pace as you slightly twisted your hand up and down, small grunts and slight groans spilling from his lips.

His hips stuttered as he arched into your touch, pleading for more, more.

“F-faster.” he whimpered, nuzzling his head into your neck, letting out shaky breaths.

Your hand slowed as he said this, until you were barely stroking him, your thumb ghosting over his tip. “What was that? Are you trying to take more than I’m giving you?”

He whined at the loss of contact, shaking his head frantically. “No no. Please don’t stop. I’m sorry.”

“Good boy.” you cooed, your hand picking up speed again as his breaths became more and more labored.

He began slightly thrusting up into your hand, soft moans falling from his lips as his dick twitched in your hand.

One hand came to cup his heavy balls and your other hand tightened and pumped him faster, his hips stuttering and becoming more erratic.

“Close?” you teased, only going faster.

“Fuck, yes, just keep.. oh mhm.”

His thrusts became sloppier and his voice more breathy as he babbled your name and how good you were making him feel, his climax fast approaching.

Three more strokes and he’s spurting hot, white ropes into your hand and your desk, his head falling forward, sweaty dark hair stuck to his forehead as his hips twitch before stilling.

You shake your head slightly, and pull his dark locks up to face you. “What a naughty, messy boy.”

His eyes are lidded and a satisfied smirk tilts his lips up as he opens his mouth, waiting.

You shake your head before leaning down to capture his lips in a messy, open-mouthed kiss.

Cleaning up, he tucks himself back into his pants, and as you’re tidying your space, you notice splotches of sticky white covering the paperwork you were supposed to be finishing.

Just then, the doors to the Agency swing open, and you hear Fukuzawa’s voice.

“Have you finished the report yet?”

[writerslittlelibrary]

Wasn't she sixteen...?

masterlist

summary: when you are on a mission with your uncle Steve, you accidentally become part of a large, secret Hydra experiment, and suddenly, you return to the compound as a toddler…

pairing: Winterwidow x adopted daughter teen/toddler reader

warnings: none I think

genre: fluff

words: 3333

a/n: I remember reading something with the reader turning into a toddler a long time ago, and the idea always stuck with me. I figured it would be really cute to do it with an adopted reader, because it means that Natasha and Bucky have never taken care of a toddler

You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work

 |——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

A simple mission. That is what Fury said. A simple data collection. In and out. 

“Simple,” Steve scoffed as her carried a sleeping 2 year old in his arms. As it turns out, the mission was not as simple as Fury had initially stated. The Hydra base was in fact, not empty, and you, were in fact, not ready. 

Fury had assured Natasha and Bucky you would be fine. You had been with the Avengers since you were 11. You had been fighting your entire life before that, and now you were with the Avengers and all you wanted was to follow in the footsteps of your adoptive parents. 

Natasha and Bucky couldn’t be more proud, yet they also couldn’t be more worried. 

You had never been on a mission before. Natasha and Bucky deemed them to dangerous, and you were only 16. They didn’t want you on missions until you were at least a legal adult.

You were upset of course when they told you, but it didn’t take you long before you understood. Missions were dangerous, and despite your upbringing, you were simply not ready yet. 

However, when Fury came to Natasha and Bucky with a file, which contained an easy mission, they decided you were allowed to go.

It would be a quick in and out mission. There wouldn’t be any danger and your uncle Steve would be with you. Everything would be fine, except it wasn’t.

The mission appeared to be more complicated than Fury had originally thought, and the Hydra base seemed to be anything but abandoned. The scouts Fury had sent out prior to the mission had been deceived. It was a trap, for you.

You had Steve had gone inside the base, finding the control room and copying the data.

However, when you were copying the data Steve heard strange noises coming from the hallway. He told you to stay put and finish the data transfer while he went to check.

You did as he said, continuing to transfer all the data from the computer. 

However, once the screen displayed 100 percent, all electricity in the room fell away. The door fell shut, and a red light was all that lit up the room. 

You pulled the usb out of the computer in a haste, trying to see if you could get the door open. You were unsuccessful, and despite your training, you were starting to panic. You could hear grunts and blows landing not far from your location and so you figured Steve was fighting off multiple Hydra agents. 

After you unsuccessfully tried to open the door, you took a step back, taking a deep breath and emptying your mind. You tried to remember what you father told you.

“Don’t dwell on situations gone wrong. Accept the unexpected. Don’t stand around whining. Try to find another way.” 

You could hear your father’s voice in your head, repeating the things he had taught you. Don’t dwell on the situation, you repeated in your head as you turned around, scanning the room to try and find something else that could help you. 

It didn’t take long before you spotted the end of a vent in the ceiling, and after pushing the large computer from the desk, you moved it over to the wall. 

You climbed to stand on top of the desk as you inspected the vent, figuring you could fit through if you managed to get it open. 

The metal was screwed into the wall rather tightly, and the vent wouldn’t budge as you tried your best to pull it open. While focusing on the vent, you failed to notice Steve trying to talk to you through the door.

Once you heard him yell your name, you turned around, jumping off the desk and making your way to the door. 

“It’s a trap! They’re gonna do something to you!” you heard Steve yell as he tried to get the door open. He too failed to open the door, despite his super soldier serum. 

You ran back to the desk, climbing on it once more and trying to open the vent with much more force than before. This was supposed to be an easy mission. You wanted to make your parents proud. You’ll be damned if you get trapped back with Hydra because of it. 

However, after you tried your absolute best to get the vent open, you still failed, and the red lights in the room started to flicker as an alarm could be heard. 

Smoke started to fill the room and you tried to hold your breath for as long as you could.

It didn’t take long before you had to breath again, and as soon as you did you felt the smoke work its was inside, infecting your brain and your senses. You lost your balance and fell off the desk, unable to break your fall as the smoke fogged up your brain, confusion taking over. 

You tried to stand. To get to the door. To get to uncle Steve, but it was worthless. 

You laid on the floor until you lost consciousness. 

After the smoke had taken effect on you, the alarm stopped. The smoke disappeared from the room and the red light returned to normal. The door sprung open and Steve rushed inside. 

However, what he found was not exactly what he was expecting. 

There you were, sitting on the ground with a pile of suit around you. You were no longer sixteen, you were a toddler. You looked to be around two, and because only your body had shrunken, the suit you were once wearing was way to big, and so it piled up around you.

Once you saw your uncle Steve your recognised him immediately, even in this from, and you giggled and smiled as you reached your little arms up. 

Steve picked you up quickly, rushing back to the Quinjet and discarding of your suit, wrapping you in a warm blanket instead. You had a few cuts and bruises on your little body but they didn’t seem to bother you in the slightest as you giggled and laughed while playing with Steve’s beard. 

He sighed as set the coordinates for the Quinjet back to the Avengers tower, contemplating on how the hell he was going to explain this to Natasha and Bucky.

------------------------------------------------------------- 

Once Bucky and Natasha heard that the Quinjet was landing, they rushed to meet you, wanting to hold you in their arms and assure themselves you were safe. 

However, when Steve walked off the Quinjet, a confused and guilty look on his face while carrying a little child, they could only think the worse. Natasha and Bucky rushed over to Steve, asking what had happened to their child. They needed to know you were safe.

Steve chuckled dryly as he held your tiny form up, and the moment you saw Natasha and Bucky you started smiling, reaching for Natasha, wanting your mama to hold you.

Natasha took you from Steve confused, before she took a good look at the toddlers face and realised that it was indeed, you. 

“Y/n?!” Natasha exclaimed confused. 

“Mommy!” you giggled happily as you buried your face into her shoulder, exhausted from the journey. 

“Wasn’t she sixteen when we sent her with you…?” Bucky asked confused, a dangerous tone hidden underneath his playful one.

“Well, you see, she got hit with some kind of strange gas and now… well… she turned into a toddler…” Steve explained, scratching the back of his head while avoiding to make eye contact.

“What…?” Natasha asked even more confused, rubbing your back gently as you fussed before you settled down again. 

“I don’t know what happened. The Hydra base we were at was not abandoned, but they didn’t try to hurt us. I left her alone for just a minute while I went to fight other Hydra agents off, and when I came back, well…” he finished, motioning to your sleeping form.

“I’m really sorry…” Steve added apologetically as he looked down. 

Bucky took a deep breath before laying his hand on his best friend’s shoulder. 

“We’ll go and see Bruce. Hopefully he can help us reverse it,” Bucky stated. Steve looked up at him confused, before he noticed Natasha’s massive smile while she interacted with your younger self. Maybe this wasn’t all bad. 

------------------------------------------------------------- 

After speaking with Bruce and Tony, Natasha and Bucky found out that your little form was reversible, but that it would simply take time. They stated that eventually the effects of the gas would wear off, and then you’d be back to your normal, teenager form again. 

Natasha and Bucky thanked them as they made their way to the living room, you still happily in Natasha’s arms. 

Bucky had already started planning an entire mental list of all the things they would have to get for you. I mean, you were two years old and the only thing that adorned your little body was the fuzzy blanket from the Quinjet. 

There weren’t any clothes for you. There wasn’t anything in the Avengers tower for a two year old.

On top of that, Natasha and Bucky had never taken care of a toddler before. You were eleven when the Avengers saved you, and you were eleven when you were adopted by Natasha and Bucky. They didn’t know the first thing about taking care of a young child.

While Bucky rummaged in the kitchen, trying to find something appropriate for you to eat, Natasha sat on the couch with you in her lap, playing peek a boo while you giggled and tried to copy her movements. 

Bucky eventually settled on grabbing you an apple, coming back from the kitchen and handing it to you. 

Natasha gave him an unimpressed look when you took the apple from Bucky’s hand, studying it for a second before holding it back up to Bucky. Bucky looked confused, sending Natasha a glance for help.

“She’s two, James,” Natasha simply stated as Bucky hesitantly took the apple back.

“Daddy cut,” you stated as you pointed at the apple, and Bucky immediately realised how stupid he had been. 

He went back into the kitchen, hearing you giggle as Natasha stated, ‘stupid daddy,’ in a playful tone. Once he returned with the apple, cut this time, he sat beside Natasha, holding the little bowl while you reached for a piece. 

You happily munched on your apple slice while you laid down on Natasha’s chest. 

Perhaps they should lay you down for a nap soon. 

------------------------------------------------------------- 

Clint had heard about what had happened to you. He had immediately started digging around in the old clothes from Lila and Nathaniel. The clothes they had kept from Lila were all baby clothes, and so he settled on just grabbing some of Nathaniel’s clothes. 

He arrived at the compound quickly, finding you still sitting on the couch, finishing your last apple slice. 

Natasha held you close as she softly rocked you back and forth, a happy and content smile on her face. She loved you more than anything in the world. She loved your shopping trips, your determination when you insisted on certain songs during car rides. Your ability to make Bucky say yes to whatever you asked. But she could not deny how much she had longed to hold you in your younger years.

Holding you, in your two year old form, was everything she had ever wanted. 

You were so small. So fragile. So young. Natasha was more than grateful that she gets to experience you being so small as well. 

Clint smiled at the sight, walking into the living area and sitting on a chair close to Natasha and Bucky. 

“She’s adorable,” he stated as he got a good look at you.

Your little head perked up at the sound of his voice. “Uhncle Clint!” You stated happily, tripping over your words as they came out as a mushed up mess. 

“Hello there tiny,” Clint responded as he smiled at you.

“I got you some of Nathaniel’s old clothes. I couldn’t find anything from Lila’s but I figured this will do for now,” Clint explained to Natasha and Bucky as he handed Bucky the clothes. 

You little arm immediately reached towards the pile of clothes, sitting up straight in Natasha’s lap as you pulled the clothing items out of the perfect pile, wanting to see all of them. Eventually, you reached for a shirt with little planets on it. You held it up to Natasha. 

“On mama,” you stated firmly, to which Natasha laughed while she helped you into the shirt. 

Eventually, you were happily dressed in a miss matching set of pajamas, leaning into Natasha again as your eyes started to fall close. 

“I think it’s time for a nap,” Natasha stated as she stood up, holding you tightly to her chest as she made her way towards hers and Bucky’s bedroom. Bucky followed her as they went into the bedroom, Natasha laying you on the bed. 

“Do two year olds wear diapers…?” Bucky asked, deep in thought while he contemplated putting a diaper on you or not.

Natasha let out a huff of amusement before handing a diaper to Bucky.

“Yes they do,” she stated as she sat down on the bed, making sure you kept laying down as Bucky gave her a confused look.

“Well go on dad, put a diaper on your kid,” Natasha stated playfully, listening to your giggles as Bucky’s face heated up. 

“I don’t know how…” Bucky stated, a little embarrassed. 

“Come on super soldier, I’ll talk you through it. It’s not that hard,” Natasha explained as she motioned for Bucky to get to work. 

------------------------------------------------------------- 

After Bucky’s diaper adventure you were asleep pretty quickly, all the excitement from the day catching up to you as you slept peacefully on the big bed. Natasha had laid pillows all around you, building some kind of wall to ensure you wouldn’t roll out of the bed while you slept. 

After you were down and content, Natasha had offered to go to the mall to pick out a few necessities for you. Bucky had reluctantly agreed, even though he was terrified to take care of you. You were only a little baby, and he was terrified to hurt you. 

Natasha had assured him that he would do great, and Clint had offered to stay nearby incase Bucky would need anything.

And so, Natasha happily went to the mall, shopping in all the baby stores as she put way to many objects in her basket. She had never had such an experience before. Sure, she occasionally picked up a thing or two for Clint’s kids, but getting to pick out stuff for her own little girl felt entirely different.

She had already received a dozen texts while she was gone, all from Bucky as he slightly panicked with every sound or movement you made. 

Natasha chuckled to herself as she read through the texts, assuring Bucky you were fine and that you were just sleeping like any normal toddler would. 

“Are you looking for anything specific?” 

The question pulled Natasha away from her phone, turning to look at the woman beside her. She had a kind smile on her face as she scanned the objects in Natasha’s basket. 

“Oh, uhm, I’m not sure,” Natasha stated, giving the woman a smile back.

“Your first child?” the woman asked, and Natasha nodded with a bright smile on her face. 

“It was unexpected, to say the least,” she chuckled at her own joke, watching the woman’s face as she smiled kindly. 

“How old is she?” the woman asked, judging by the basket contents that you were a girl.

“Two,” Natasha stated as she picked up another set of pajamas, the pattern a collection of different cartoon drawings of your favourite animal.

“It’s a great age. I loved it when my kids were that age,” the woman told Natasha.

“Children that age often want comfort items. Does she have anything like a stuffed animal, or maybe a special blanket?” the woman suggested, and Natasha thought for a moment before shaking her head. 

“No, I suppose she doesn’t. I should probably pick one up for her,” she stated as she gave the woman another smile, moving to walk over to the stuffed animal section. 

The woman trailed behind her and guided her towards a collection of adorable bears, all dressed in various pajama sets that were sold around the store. 

“You could get one with the same pajamas as your daughter,” the woman explained excitedly, picking up a bear dressed in the same pajamas that Natasha had picked out earlier.

Natasha took the bear, thanking the woman before making her way to check out. 

------------------------------------------------------------- 

Once Natasha arrived back at the Avengers tower the first thing she noticed was how the common area was a chaos. Clint and Wanda were looking around while Bucky just paced around panicking. 

Natasha walked over to Bucky, a determination to calm her boyfriend down before he would have a mental breakdown.

“Y/n’s gone,” Bucky stated as he say Natasha come into view.

Clint immediately turned around upon hearing Bucky’s words, letting out a chuckle and walking over to Natasha as well. 

“For the record, y/n is not gone, she is simply playing hide and seek,” Clint started, looking around. “And she’s damn good at it…”

Natasha laughed as she set her bags on the couch.

“Y/n? Sweetie, it’s mommy. I have some things for you,” Natasha stated in a sing songy voice, her ears immediately perking up when she heard your excited giggles coming from her right. 

There you were, running as fast as your little legs could take you, straight for Natasha’s lap.

You jumped up on the couch, climbing onto Natasha as you hugged her tightly. 

“Mommy!” you exclaimed happily, giggling as Natasha attacked your face with kisses.

“Was my little princess hiding from daddy?” Natasha asked as you nodded, still giggling as you pointed over to Bucky.

“Daddy not finding me!” you exclaimed, stretching out to give Natasha a kiss on her cheek. 

Bucky sighed with relief as he moved to sit down beside you two, his large hand stroking your back, it almost being as big as your entire back. You giggled and pushed yourself away from Natasha, using her shoulders to push yourself up so you could give Bucky a kiss as well.

“I best at hid and seeking,” you stated proudly, and Bucky chuckled as he nodded, giving you a kiss on your forehead.

“Look what I have for you my little malyshka,” Natasha said as she reached into the bag, pulling the stuffed animal from the bag and handing it over to you.

You smiled brightly, immediately hugging the bear tightly to your chest when you got it into your hands. 

“Matching pajamas…” Bucky stated with amusement as he pulled the pajama set from the bag, holding it up for you and Natasha to see. 

You gasped in excitement as reached over to it.

“On mommy, on,” you stated as you managed to get the pajamas in your hands.

Natasha chuckled and helped you out of Nathaniel’s old clothes, ripping open the packaging of the new pajamas and helping you put them on. 

“I look like bear!” you exclaimed happily as you looked at yourself, holding up your bear for Natasha and Bucky to see.

“Yes you do doll,” Bucky stated as he pulled you into his lap, showering your face with kisses.

Both Natasha and Bucky would never say it out loud, but they hoped you would stay a two year old for a little while longer, loving the new domestic feeling it gave them to raise a little kid. Of course, they loved you and they would be more than happy when you were to turn back into your teenage self, but they couldn’t deny the fact that they wanted to enjoy holding your little form for as long as possible. 

Permanent tags: @marvelnatasha12346 @lesbionion @nova-kyle @darkstar225 @saraaahsstuff @marvelwomenarehot0 @screechcat @iheartjohansson @simp-erformarvelwomen @swaqcenix @karmasgxrl @marvel-lous3000 @mxximoffswifey @lorsstar1st

[sevs-corner]

Tf 141: Ghost and his marriage problems w/ you

part 1: Price | Masterlist here! | Inspo playlist here! Angst to comfort

Ghost is a man of few words, the comment of it being 'few and far between' used too often to describe him and his stand-off demeanor with you in public.

Though, he cares not for those things, only ever lending an ear for you only.

Yet you wished he did when manhandles a man that was only trying to talk to you about baked goods you were selling.

You slammed your front door closed after Simon went ahead inside and paced around the living room, before settling on a chair once he hears you stomp in.

"What the fuck was that Simon?"

You seethed, pissed off at how Simon was so quick to assume things, turning things to an eleven when it didn't to be-- making an issue at a situation you were very well handling yourself already.

"He got too close," he grunts with a shrug, "too suspicious for someone just 'asking' a question."

You rubbed your face roughly.

You think maybe he was emotionally and socially stunted but no, he was able to conduct himself just fine at his jobs and during missions-- what the fuck is he on right now?

"What kinda bullshit is that?" You scoffed at him and he huffs, leaning his elbows on his knees yet still making eye contact with you.

"You..." He starts but then breaks off, sighing and ruffling his hair.

Simon wanted to choose his words carefully. He couldn't say it was gut feeling that he gets when someone gets too close to hurt you.

As a soldier, he was trained to always be on his toes, and that type of behavior becomes hard to rub off when all he thinks of is protecting you whenever you guys go out.

He knows that no one knows how his face looks like out in public, but he is still scared-- haunted by the notion, or even the thought of you getting hurt as a means of revenge to get back at him.

He knows his records aren't clean and he isn't proud of some of the things he did either, but he knew it was worth it when the world could have its bits and pieces of peace from it-- especially if you were, and you still had that same gleaming smile whenever you greet him home.

So he tries to keep that all away, to keep the peace, and most importantly-- to keep you happy.

Even if that required him to be on guard 24/7, always wary of the things going on in your life and working double to make sure you were alright.

Even if it gets him the short end of the stick, getting the brunt of your anger.

"He..." he licks his dried out lips, "...he looked like he had ulterior motives, hun."

You stomp to him, hands grabbing his face as you stared down at him, eyes so pointed and open that there were unshed tears at the end of it.

"And who are you to be the judge of that?"

He bites his lip, sucking in a breath, and he just wants to speak--

"Because I've been onto him."

"...What-?"

You were breathless for a moment, letting go of Simon as he whispered words that made it cloudier-- made him more vague and so stubbornly confusing.

But when he doesn't reply for moments after that, you ask him what he meant by that. What he wants to mean by that-- because all these conjured up thoughts swirling in your head were doing no good for the position you were putting Simon in inside your head.

"Simon please..." you breathed out in resign, "...just tell me."

Yet he doesn't.

He sits there, ever so still.

And you think he's stuck like that if it wasn't for the constant soft crunching of his gloves as he grips and releases it.

If it weren't for his chest heaving up and down-- you would have thought you lost him.

"If you're not gonna talk, I'm leaving." You decided, having enough of working today and just... all of this with Simon.

You love him, you truly do, but him shutting himself like this is just so exhausting-- and you couldn't take another moment of it.

"Wait."

His voice rings loud enough from the doorway, where you already putting on your shoes, and you pause, letting him have a couple seconds to follow-up.

"...Its cold out, grab your coat."

You huff, slamming your shoes down again for the second time tonight. Luckily, there weren't your favorite pair, but they'd understand if its them dealing with as stubborn of a partner like Ghost right? You could only amusedly think so for a moment before going close to Ghost, glaring down at him while his face was turned downwards to the floor, no longer making eye-contact with you.

"'s that all you're gonna say to me?"

You ask again, giving him another chance, another out for him just to get it off his chest-- to just,

"FUCKING TALK SIMON!"

Your breaths are heavy and from the way Simon didn't even flinch nor move, you decided to forego that chance. To just leave and--

"He was stalking you."

You turn to him again, facing him with less intensity that you thought when you finally see him.

He's disgruntled, hair a mess, mask and gloves off, disheveled clothing-- face so scrunched with lines, you'd think he was carving the wrinkles on his face permanently.

You wait, nodding at him to continue-- not trusting your own voice at the moment to convince him to keep talking.

Simon breaths in deep.

He had no choice.

It was either he lets you leave him (and fuck him and everything he lives for if he just lets you do so without him even trying) or he talks, and shows... everything and risk you leaving either way.

If both ends at the same conclusion, fuck him for throwing caution to the wind and giving one last damn shot to keep you by his side.

"Remember when you got that weird text?" He starts off and once he sees you nod in confirmation, he continues. "Thought I should look into it."

"I told you it was just spam." You mutter and you see him shake his head, muttering a small- "not to me."

And you kept your mouth shut at that.

"Once I did," he gulps, "started seeing all the nasty shit he had on his computer and what he planned to do..." he paused, breath coming out steady.

"...once he got to you today."

You feel like a bucket of ice cold water just got splashed onto your face, your stomach dropping, your throat constricting.

"..what...?"

Was all you could manage before you see Simon stand, and you could finally see why people were scared of him, the elusive and ruthless man on the field-- the man they call Ghost.

Now you knew why he sat, why he also took the low ground with you, why he showed himself to be smaller than you because seeing him right now-- standing at his full height with a gaze you can no longer call familiar.

It was downright chilling to the bone.

"He was going to take you for himself." He growled, his emotions resurfacing once he saw the guy's search history and the not-so-elaborate plans he shared with a couple of mates on his messaging app. He had the receipts and he was going to fucking expose the guy if it weren't for your interference--.

No. He shouldn't think about it like that. You were worried for him. Yeah. You weren't disrupting anything, you were just looking out for him. That's it.

'Keep it down, Ghost.'

"If I didn't intervene," he grabs your jaw and forces you into his gaze, "I would've broken my promise to always protecting you."

This breaks the dam.

Simon, as much as he was an emotionally stunted man, meant every word he made to you in his vows.

And at the end of it all, he swore, he promised--

'Promise to protect you always.'

Was how he ended that, and how he slipped that band on your finger right now.

You felt so stupid.

Maybe it was you who were quick to assume such things of a man who would no thing to hurt you.

"Shh..." He holds you close, finally closing the distance he wanted to make ever since you guys got home. "I'm sorry."

He whispers onto your hair as one of his hands stroke it while the other was wrapped around your side.

His chin was on your head, and he just lets you sob onto him-- lets you say your apologies, but he doesn't take them.

It wasn't your fault. It was his.

And he wants to make amends.

Even if that ended up with you leaving, he'll still fulfill those vows he promised.

Because he swore it to the only person who accepted him for all that he is.

So, he'll try his best to make it work. For the both of you, or even just for your sake.

"Lovie," he mutters once your sobs turned to sniffles, "your smiles look better on you."

You huff, unable to stop the breath of a laugh from the sudden left hook of a compliment.

"I'm sorry Simon." You finally peel away from his chest to look at him and place your hands- more gently this time- on his heated cheeks.

He shakes his head-- "no, 's not you." He kisses your palms, trailing it higher until he reaches that golden metal on your finger, and his lips linger on there for moments before talking again.

"I should've told you," he admits, "just didn't want you to worry."

You immediately smacked him which made him slightly flinch at the sudden hit on his cheek.

"Dummy," you sniffle, "I still would-- whether you didn't or did."

You pout at him, "you know me Simon, I'll always worry."

He nods somberly.

"Just don't wanna add onto it." He pokes your forehead and you giggle.

"See, its already so big--"

"Shush!" You slapped away his hand this time and you could see a smile starting to grow on his lips.

"I'll remember that for next time." He promises, this time replacing his finger with forehead, tiredly connecting it to yours.

"Promise to tell me next time?"

"I promise."

"I'll worry with you instead."

He chuckles at this, relenting to your whims once more.

"You're gonna make my head bigger like yours then."

[hismourningflower]

「 scary dog privileges | kiss (don't tell!) event 」 blade & cyno x gn!reader | fluff, established relationships | event entry. ↳ ohhh zenith~ (@lovingluxury), i'm your secret admirer for this year's kiss (don't tell!) event !! you get my very first attempt at blade, i'm so sorry but i'm so glad i got to practise him !! happy valentines my lovely, i hope this year treats you how you deserve it !! ↳ shoutout to my oc chrysalis for being on my mind for the entirety of blade’s part

the jade's guidelines | genshin m.list | honkai m.list | kiss (don't tell!) m.list

BLADE calls falling for you "a mistake," one that he made quite boldly. nonetheless, he only ever grumbles this under his breath and never actually aloud - he can't bear to see that faint grimace of hurt on your face. no matter how many times he says he doesn't care, he quite clearly does.

it's a well known fact that's not into all of the lovey dovey romance stuff you rope him into with a wide smile on your face, tugging his calloused hands in the direction of another pretty scenic backdrop for a couple selfie or when you place matching items into his rough palms. behind closed doors, he finds the pads of his fingertips tracing over the photo or item with some 'annoying' sense of longing.

blade is scary to a lot of people. he knows he is, it's unmistakeable when people cower at the sight of him. their eyes shrink in fear, lips trembling when they can barely stutter out words in his presence. this is precisely why he loves to loom behind you, even when you're unaware of him being there - in his defence, he's quite quiet when he tries - because the mere sight of him scares people off. you want to scold him but you're thankful for this newfound privilege when you're stuck in uncomfortable situations, regardless you know that blade wouldn't bat an eyelid and would simply ignore you.

he undeniably has a soft spot for you - this "mistake" of his. the other stellaron hunters pick up on it fairly quick, smug looks on their faces as they share glances every time the two of you are together around them. blade wasn't sure you'd get along with the stellaron hunters at all, can you blame him? they're an organisation that isn't exactly in anyone's good books. yet you seem to bond well with kafka and silver wolf... what a shame for him. unfortunately, this means he's prone to hearing silver wolf and kafka taunt him about this little soft spot of his; "what's wrong bladie? you're going soft," kafka chides with a sly grin, only to hear a disapproving grunt from the tall man.

in private, blade's personality doesn't change all that much. he's still grumbly, his scary demeanour hanging over his head like a guillotine thanks to his mara but there's a slight shift in his behaviour. he likes to lay with you, not that he'd ever admit that (aeons forbid if he did, he'd never hear the end of it.) in fact, it's his favourite thing to do, especially after a stressful mission.

when things get tough and the mara hurts just a tad too much, blade will always find a comfort in laying his head gently on your chest or your lap, regardless of what you're doing just so that you run your hands through his dark hair. just so he can feel the tips of your fingers rub against his scalp, feel the way you braid little - or big - braids into his long hair. he stays silent as you comb through his black locks, brushing out every tangle so gently he barely feels it.

he may claim that getting too close to you was "a mistake" but by the aeons, he knows damn well that he's lying to himself.

CYNO didn't intend to fall for you. it had been a mere accident but he'd never let the words 'mistake' fall from his lips, celestia forbid he even uttered 'accident' either. tighnari unfortunately had heard him say 'blessing' a tad too many times, however.

the general mahamatra... plenty of people in sumeru are relatively scared of him. why wouldn't they be? he's obsessed with his work, heavily devoted to his job of chasing down criminals and enforcing justice. even if they don't fear him, people most certainly know cyno - whether it be his name, his looks, his accomplishments or merely his rank title. despite this scary demeanour everyone sees when he's working, cyno really isn't as scary as people make out him to be.

cyno is incredibly self aware of people's thoughts and words about him. he knows damn well that people find him scary - that's the whole point of his comedy act and awful jokes he throws out without a second thought, his facial expression still as stern as ever as if he doesn't even find his own jokes funny. he tries not to let it affect him, in fact he's adapted; he'll use it to protect you.

don't get him wrong, he's perfectly capable at protecting you without instilling fear into the people bothering you but combat is tedious and you've scolded him many times for attempting to use hermanubis on some poor soul who rubbed him the wrong way. what's more better than looming like a threat, red eyes piercing into their very soul until they take the hint? sometimes he doesn't even need to go that far - the sight of him sends people running, they're not particularly looking for trouble with the general mahamatra after all.

despite trying to figure out how people work so he can soften the aura around him when people get too tense in his presence, cyno doesn't completely understand the lovey dovey things you rope him into. he understands to an extent, picking up the things you love the most so that he can do when you least expect it; he understands that it means a lot to you and that's all he cares about. you.

and undeniably so, he's ten times less 'scary' in private. kaveh and tighnari can't help but taunt him when he's brushing his tanned thumb over your knuckles, pressing slightly chapped lips to your skin in delicate kisses - what do you mean that's the general mahamatra? they'll grin but secretly, they're happy that cyno has someone that brings this side of him out.

one of cyno's favourite things to do outside of catching criminals so that they may face their judgement for their crimes (other than tcg...) is cook for you. when i say cook, i mean actual meals and not the rations he eats while he's out in the scorching desert or deep in the apam woods on dirt paths that have been worn into the grass from centuries of people walking through. he loves it, the idea of being able to provide something to you that he knows you enjoy and honestly, he's not a bad cook. however, you regret introducing him to non-native sumeru recipes when he mutters "wanna hear a joke about pizza?" oh no. even if you say no, he'll be quick to add "nevermind, it's too cheesy."

you're quite literally the most important thing to him other than work and if he has to use means he's not fond of just to protect that loving comfort you shelter his cracked heart with, then so be it.

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© thexianzhoujade 2024. | do not re-upload, copy, translate, etc. my works on any form of media.

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Surprise | Soap x Reader

Summary: After a mission that they barely survived, Ghost leads the team to a safe place to stay, his half-sister’s apartment.

Word Count: ~ 1.6k

Warnings: mentions of death, blood, missiles, etc

A/N: first time writing for cod…hope you enjoy, lmk what to do for part 2!! (also here is what I had in mind for the apartment layout, if you’re like me and can’t picture buildings in your head)

Requests are open!

Masterlist | Next

Their mission had gone to complete shit.

It had started relatively simple compared to the other missions they’d been doing, with Russians, cartels, Mexican forces, and whatnot. They’d been shipped out to America, a suspected terrorist group that had been working for General Barkov when he’d been killed.

A group that had now gone rogue, and rumor was that they were headed to Britain, holding a missile for transport that had been stolen from a covert American base. The Americans weren’t taking it too well, but that was to be expected.

“We don’t have enough information to know who they are, you just need to get that missile transported, and get out of there.” Laswell had told them.

“Sounds easy compared to what we do every mornin’, right Lt?” Soap had said with a grin, nudging him with an elbow slightly, and he had only given a grunt in response, still processing information.

“Easy” his arse.

Sent to one of the states at first, they’d tracked down this supposed terrorist group, apparently it being a lot larger than they originally expected. A lot larger.

It was only because of the intel Gaz had gotten his hands on that they’d been able to locate the missile while it moved, it being located in a broken-down warehouse near Galveston, Texas. Right near the Gulf of Mexico, if they were planning on taking it to sea to travel with it.

And when they’d stormed the warehouse?

A total mess. Unorganized and sloppy.

Soap had blown the door, and they’d planted charges around to detonate for the men guarding the missile but had underestimated just how many there would be. It was crawling with them, more confirmation that they’d been informed somehow beforehand of Task Force 141.

Men in vents, ceiling panels, underneath desks, and hiding behind cabinets, doors, anything.

The missile had only been taken out because of air support, the same air support that had nearly been shot down and taken out, when a heli had finally come in to reprieve them while snatching that missile up and getting the hell out of there.

That didn’t solve the problem of the men everywhere, though. The charges that had been meant to blow some to pieces had been botched, and with all the gunfire, they would attract unwanted attention. Police were already investigating, conveniently turning a blind eye to Price and the rest of his force. It wasn’t a coincidence. Not when Shepherd had a history of paying people off to keep them quiet.

But that wasn’t their problem, right now, Ghost was trying to devise a way to get them the hell out of America, or at least out of goddamn Texas. Of all the places to be stuck in.

“Laswell, where the hell is our exfil?”

He radioed over, crouched down on the roof of a building, taking out whoever he could from it. Many of the men in the terrorist group weren’t a bad shot either, so he decided to keep his head relatively low.

“Negative, Ghost.” Price’s voice responded.

“The hell does that mean?”

“We aren’t leaving. Too many men still here, Kate wants us keeping eyes on ‘em.”

“Bloody fucking hell..”

They had decided to regroup at an old church down the road, Soap was a little banged up, with more than a few cuts and bruises, and Gaz dealing with a minor head injury he’d gotten when someone had tried to smash his skull in with a gun, and Price donning a decent sized cut to the arm.

“This is a covert mission. We can’t stay at a hotel or anything of the like, so where are we going?” Gaz asked, and Price paused for a moment, looking a bit unsure, which made sense considering this had been a get-in-get-out mission before it had changed. Before he could open his mouth to speak, Ghost spoke.

“I know someone, but they’re a long ways away.”

~ 3:48 A.M.~

A knock that was more like a banging on your door woke you up from your light sleep as you quietly sat up in your bed, standing and tiptoeing over to the front door of your spacey apartment.

It was large, for the price. But considering you were working for the landlord at a local restaurant, as he was the general manager there as well, it made sense.

The apartment held two spare bedrooms, and a nice living room connected to a kitchen with a table in it you liked using. Two bathrooms, one in the hallway where your room was in, another connected to a guest bedroom. A little balcony, which came in handy when one of your friends wanted a smoke break when over at your place.

Palming the closed hunting knife still connected to your pants and hanging loosely, you figured you were safe enough to answer the door, and looking through the peephole, you saw four men.

Military, and the one in the Ghost mask…

Opening the door, your face now annoyed, you stared him dead in the eye. Didn’t even glance at the others.

“We need a place to stay. A month or two at most.”

His low and rough voice, donning a British accent, said. It was louder than you remembered him being, but then again, he wasn’t the scared little Simon that you’d known anymore, scared of the abusive father you’d both shared. He wasn’t the Simon who mumbled or spoke quietly anymore.

A silent conversation passed between you two at the door, a thick silence passing over the entire group. The other men stared. Your eyes narrowed, a nonverbal question.

Are you on a mission?

He didn’t move for a moment, no doubt thinking of the information he could share with you. Another reason for your eventual fallout, the fact that he wouldn’t ever share with you anything if what he did. It was always to keep you safe.

Eventually, he gave a tiny, near imperceptible nod. On a mission. Of course, he would come to you while on a mission, dragging you into it. It wasn’t like you were helpless against attackers, not at all, but they’d had some crazy shit happen to them over the years, and that was just from what you’d overheard.

With a resigned sigh, you looked over at the other men he’d brought.

A taller man, with a beard, and a bucket hat. He looked like he had authority. A man on the shorter end, with some scruff, a mohawk, and a poorly restrained cheeky smile. The last man was darker, an almost caramel brown, with short hair, cleanly shaven, and a hat on.

Military men, clearly, but if Simon was willing to trust them around you, then you didn’t count them much as a threat right now.

“Names.”

You said flatly, and the Mohawk-one’s brows raised before replying.

“You can call me Soap-“

“I mean your name, not your shitty military nickname.”

You interrupted bluntly, clearly not in the best mood after being woken at 3 AM because of Simon Riley. “Soap” raised his hands in a mock gesture of innocence.

“Easy, lass. It’s Johnny, if you must know.”

Scottish, then. You could tell by the accent. The taller one spoke.

“John Price.”

The prettiest of the group spoke with a little smile that could’ve fooled you for not being faked.

“Kyle.”

Giving them all one last flat, surveying look, you jerked your head into the apartment, walking in.

“Two guest bedrooms down that way, bathrooms down the hall, there’s a balcony if you want a second exit. Don’t break anything.”

You said simply, and they walked in, looking tired as hell and covered in bandages. However, you weren’t going to let this go. Not right now.

You grabbed Simon by the arm, and he stiffened, stopping.

“You and I are going to have a little talk, Simon.” You said, dragging him into your room, and shutting the door behind you as he sighed, pulling his mask off. Blond hair and lashes came into view, as well as baby blue eyes.

“What the fuck were you thinking, bringing-“

You began, pissed as hell. He hadn’t contacted you in years, not since his mom had died, and with your shared father already dead, you’d been shoved into foster care.

“We’re all injured. We can’t stay anywhere we can be easily found. This area isn’t as well registered, and we’ll be gone in a month.” He spoke simply as if it wasn’t anything to get upset or emotional about.

You took a breath and breathed it out. Stay calm.

“I’m not talking about the mission, Simon.”

He seemed unused to being called his real name. At least, by the stiffening of his shoulders, you guessed so.

“There’s nothing else to talk about.”

He said gruffly, turning to open the door and leave. You stepped in his way, and he stared down at you, unamused. You were barely 5’6, and he was 6’2, so it was quite the height difference.

“You can’t run from your problems forever, Simon.”

You said, hands on your hips, and he simply picked you up, placing you beside him as he opened the door and walked out. Always running from his problems.

It was surprisingly unsurprising.

~ 4:07 A.M.~

“You want to explain who the hell that is, Simon?”

Price asked gruffly from where they were all gathered in one of the guest rooms. Simon paused his quiet pacing for a moment to reply.

“My half-sister.” He answered, and a silence fell over at that. The only sibling they knew he had was Tommy, and Tommy was long dead at that. A few seconds passed, before Soap, in the bathroom connected to this particular guest room, combing his Mohawk and going through his haircare routine, spoke up.

“She’s a real bonnie lass.” Johnny said with a grin, and Simon sighed.

“English, MacTavish.”

“She’s hot as fuck, sir.” The Scotsman said, and there was a small, disappointed sigh from Gaz, who already knew he’d have to patch up Soap from Ghost, who was fuming silently.