#Chase n Cashe | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

not-neverland06 · 5 months ago

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broken promises

pt two

bodyguard!logan howlett x congressman's daughter!reader

a/n: the fact that he was canonically a bodyguard makes me absolutely insane someone congratulate me, I finally figured out how to make my own dividers Summary: He's learned from past mistakes that no matter how tempting the girl is, it's better not to get involved. He just needs some cash, he doesn't give a fuck how pretty you are. He doesn't care about you. He makes it clear he wants nothing to do with you besides seeing you sign his check. But, is that really all he wants? You're not blind to the way he looks at you. 18+ MDNI Shameless smut at the end, I'm not sorry about it at all.

Logan had gotten used to this. The long drawn-out wait to meet with the man who wanted to hire him. He always arrived right on time, not a moment earlier. They all had the same game they liked to play.

The secretary would greet him, a pretty girl in her 20s that the men were screwing or trying to screw. Then they would make him sit in the lobby for half an hour. They’d apologize by pushing the blame on someone else, saying a meeting had gone on too long. But there wasn’t a meeting. There never was.

They liked to make themselves seem more important than they were. It was a power game, an intimidation tactic that he had always scoffed at. He didn’t give a fuck what government ties they had or otherwise. He just wanted his paycheck.

This one was no different. A congressman who had only recently begun to make waves when he started up an anti-mutant agenda. Ironic that he had specifically requested Logan for the very thing he was trying to eradicate.

There was a buzz and then the secretary was picking up her phone. She spared Logan a fleeting glance before whispering something into the receiver. She looked over at him and he already knew what she was going to say. “He’s ready for you now.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” she gave him a coquettish smile as he made his way towards the large office at the end of the hall. The door was closed when he reached it, three quick knocks and then a quiet Come in.

The man didn’t even look up to greet him. He continued signing something on his desk. Logan took a seat in one of the chairs, waiting for another few minutes before he was deemed important enough to address. He received a tight smile and narrowed eyes as the man took in the way he was dressed.

He never dressed up for these things. He’d learned a while ago that a suit wasn’t going to get him any further than his leather jacket was. Might as well be comfortable while talking to these pricks.

“Had a phone call with an associate of mine. Ran on longer than I meant it to.” Always an excuse, never an apology.

Logan scoffed and shrugged. “I was fine.”

The man sniffed, “I’m sure. Look, I’ll cut straight to the chase. You come highly recommended by my peers and I need help fast.” Logan nodded, motioning for him to continue. The man’s eyes lingered on his fists for a long while before he finished. “It’s my daughter. Things have been a little rough for her at school, for lack of a better word. Especially since this new campaign started. I just need someone to keep a closer eye on her.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed, “She a party girl or something?” He wasn’t sure he could handle another bratty daddy’s girl again. The last one had nearly made him blow his brains out. They always think flipping their skirts up will let them get away with more and he can’t stand it.

The man’s face blanched and he shook his head so vigorously that his jowls moved with him. “Oh, no, not at all. But she’s,” he paused and lowered his voice. He leaned in closer to Logan and waited for Logan to do the same. He rolled his eyes but did it anyway. “She’s like you, you know.”

Logan shot him a grin, “You mean a mutant.”

“Lower your voice,” he hissed, face tightening up in anger. “But, yes, a mutant. And I need one to guard her.” Ironic, this man was driving a campaign to make mutants second-class citizens, and his daughter was one. But Logan needed a check, he didn’t give a fuck about the morals of it all.

“Sounds good to me.”

“Perfect, you can pick her up from school for me.”

You had your earbuds in, head lowered while you made the trek across campus when you noticed him. He was difficult to miss, tall and buff. Very buff, you’re surprised that tank top of his hasn’t ripped every time he flexes.

Your dad’s newest campaign has you hyper-aware of your surroundings. You can’t afford to let your guard down. Not after the last attack.

There’s something about this man that tells you he isn’t someone looking to jump you, though. You’re not sure what it is. Every part of him screams danger, but not the type you’re looking out for. The cigar perched between his lips, the glistening muscles you want to bite, he’s trouble.

When you spot him outside your lecture hall for the third time that day, you finally figure out what’s happening. Your dad had told you he’d hired someone new to watch over you at school. You hadn’t voiced just how against it you were, but you didn’t like the idea.

You didn’t mind this guy, though. He wasn’t busting into your classes and embarrassing the shit out of you by making everyone empty their pockets like the last guy. He just lingered. You could deal with lingering.

What you couldn’t deal with was the way he was leaning against his motorcycle, smirking as you slowly approached him.

“Did my dad hire you?” You call out, tugging your earbuds out. “Who are you?”

He speaks around the cigar like it's second nature. “Your new bodyguard, sweetheart.” You suck in a deep breath when you hear his voice. He’s extremely attractive, you're surprised your dad would risk this.

One of the other ones had kind of gotten a little obsessed, stalking you even in his off hours. You didn’t think your dad would want another pretty boy around you. Though, you suppose this one isn’t pretty. He’s extremely handsome, ruggedly so, very manly. Jesus, you might end up being the stalker this time.

His lips curl up like he knows what you’re thinking about. You clear your throat, shifting your backpack higher up your arm. “You planning on taking me home on that?” You ask, pointing at his bike.

He straightens up and shrugs. “Got a problem with the bike?”

You grin, “Not really,” but your dad will. “No, not at all.”

You walk towards him and he reaches out, grabbing your backpack straps and tugging you towards him. You stumble, hands bracing against his chest so you don’t land flat on your face. “Sorry, kid,” but he doesn’t sound sorry at all. He buckles the straps of your backpack together and tightens them, puffing smoke in your face while he does. “Don’t want this flying off.”

“Mhm,” you hum. You’re not paying attention at all. The only thing you care about right now is just how ripped he is under your hands. You’re not sure how long you gawk at him but he seems to be ridiculously amused by it.

“Ready to go home, or what?” You jump back from him, brushing your hands off on your leggings and clearing your throat.

“Yes, yeah.” You rip your eyes off his body and instead focus on the bike. “No helmets?” You ask.

“You heal, don’t you?” You nod and he shrugs. “Don’t need them then, do we?”

You can’t help the giddy grin on your face at that. It’s gotten tiring being treated like glass. You’re about to get on the bike when you finally process what he said. “Wait, how do you know I heal?”

He doesn’t respond verbally. Instead, his gaze darts down to his fists. Your eyes widen when you see the metal poking through the skin. Of course, your father would only tell another mutant about his abomination of a daughter. You scoff and roll your eyes. He’s such a fucking hypocrite.

Logan climbs on the bike and you follow after him. You're hesitant to wrap your arms around his waist but he just reaches behind himself and jerks you forward.

You suck in a sharp breath, pelvis tight against his ass while he squeezes your hands. “You want to go flying?” You shake your head and he chuckles, starting the bike and driving off without another word.

Part of you loves the ride home, the other part detests it. For once you get to experience a little freedom. You’re not trapped in a steel box staring at the back of a car seat while the man beside you pretends he doesn’t exist.

You can feel the wind in your hair, get a taste of real speed, and enjoy a moment uninterrupted by someone’s expectations of you. On the other hand, Logan does not respect speeding laws. And healing abilities or not, you don’t actually want to experience road rash.

He manages to get you home in one piece, parking the motorcycle in the driveway and waiting for you to get off. But you can’t, your thighs have been clenching the seat so tight you think they might need to scrape you off.

“Kid?” He mutters. You shake your head against his back, arms still strangling his waist. It was actually kind of fucking terrifying being on one of these things. You can’t tell if you loved or hated it.

He lets out a rough sigh, forcibly moving your arms and then tugging you off the seat. Your legs are like jello while you try and straighten out. “Wasn’t so bad, was it?” He asks. You can’t manage much more than a strangled hum and he laughs.

You turn to your front door and spot a leering face peering out the window. “Shit,” you huff. Your stepmother sees you spot her and disappears from view. You feel your hopes of ever getting back on that bike go with her.

“You took her home on your bike!”

“Well-”

You flinch at the volume of your father’s voice. “I don’t give a fuck what your excuse is! I will not have my daughter seen riding that monstrosity! You are not to do this again, do you understand me?”

You don’t know what Logan says, but you’re certain it’s not the submissive Yes, sir your father is looking for. He continues shouting at him for another ten minutes. When you hear the door to his office open you scramble to look like you hadn’t been listening in.

But you’re a bad actress and if his huff of laughter is anything to go by, Logan knows what you were doing. “Did you know that was going to happen?” He asks, pointing back to your father’s, now closed, study.

You nod, pursing your lips with an apologetic smile. “If it helps, I was really hoping he wouldn’t do that.”

He shrugs, “I don’t really give a fuck how much he wants to scream at me.” It’s refreshing, to finally have someone in the house who doesn’t kiss your father’s ass. It makes you smile, a real genuine smile for the first time in a while.

You stand from the chair you’d been sitting in, gesturing further into your home. “Are you hungry? I haven’t eaten all day so I was thinking about making something.”

The smirk drops from his face, expression suddenly serious. It makes you tense up. “Look, I appreciate the offer, but I’m here to get paid. I don’t want to be your friend, kid.”

You suck in a sharp breath, trying not to let the rejection sting. He’s a professional, it should be a relief after the last one. “Right, yeah, I’m sorry I didn’t mean it like that.”

He nods, “Right,” tone stiff. You stare at him for another awkwardly long moment before you finally turn on your heel and walk toward the kitchen. You rush there, speedwalking so you don’t have to look at him any longer.

You open up your fridge, keeping your back to him for as long as humanly possible. You can hear him take a seat at the island, can feel the way his eyes bore into you. It’s a physical thing, his gaze, makes chills scrape their way down your spine.

You make yourself a sandwich and finally force yourself to turn around. Like you’d expected, he’s already looking at you. Lips ticking up just slightly when you finally get the courage to look up at him.

Logan feels a little guilty. You weren’t coming onto him earlier, you were being genuine with your kindness. He knows there were no ulterior motives to it and there’s a very slight part of him that feels bad for making you so quiet. “Why’s your dad so pissy about the bike?”

You’re a little startled by the question, after the comment he made you’d thought he wouldn’t want anything to do with you. You swallow down the rest of your bite and cough a little when the bread gets stuck on the roof of your mouth.

“He doesn’t want me to crash.”

“But you heal,” he points out bluntly and you can’t help but laugh a little.

“Yeah, that’s the problem. He doesn’t want me to crash and for someone to see that I miraculously healed. Having a freak for a daughter wouldn’t exactly help his campaign, would it?” You can’t even attempt to hide the bitterness in your voice. And you know Logan picks up on it because he doesn’t ask any more questions.

Your gaze drops to your plate and you finish the rest of your meal in silence. Or, you try to. “Got any plans tonight?”

You chuckle and give him an odd look. “No,” you respond sardonically. “None at all, prepare yourself for a very boring job. I don’t even know why he hired you, I never leave the house unless it's for school.”

“Yeah?” he muses, but he doesn’t seem particularly interested. More like he’s talking just to pass the time. “I heard you’ve been having a hard time at school.”

You suck in a sharp breath, a sudden wave of anger roiling through your gut. The cabinets behind you begin to shake and you wince in embarrassment, tamping down on your powers before you accidentally blow up the kitchen.

Logan watches the moment with subdued interest like he’s not all that surprised or impressed with the display. “Unless they were a PoliSci nerd, I was a nobody up until last year.” There’s no concealing the hate lurking within your words, “And then my dad took up this whole anti-mutant regime. Well, you can imagine how much the activists love me. I’ve just had a few incidents with some particularly passionate protestors.”

“Do you believe in it?”

Your eyes widen in surprise, you hadn’t expected him to actually continue the conversation. “What do you mean?”

He leans back, arms crossed across his chest in a way that makes his biceps bulge. He shrugs, “The anti-mutant regime, do you agree with it?”

You open your mouth, the perfected script almost rolling off your tongue. But this isn’t some politician's son you’re wooing. You’re not the perfect daughter, you’re in your own home, finally talking to someone else like you.

“No.” You answer, voice strong in its conviction. “And every time I see one of his PAs running around with their little signs I want to ram the stick up their ass.”

He barks out a laugh, eyes crinkling up in amusement. “I think we might get along, kid.”

You try to ignore the way your cheeks warm at his words. You don’t want to be this affected by him, you’ve barely spoken to him. But this is the first person in a long time that you know with absolute certainty you can be honest with. He doesn’t care about protecting your political image or bowing to your father’s every whim.

It’s a relief, like a constricting weight being taken off your chest. You give him an easy smile and get up to wash your dishes. His eyes are on you again but they feel less oppressive this time. You’ve already forgotten the rule he’s set in place, you’re not supposed to be friends.

It’s going to be hard to remember that.

Your father tightens his grip around your waist until you feel like you might squeal. “Smile, now.” You raise your hand, taking the stairs up the stage and waving out at the crowd that’s formed. It’s hot today, your makeup would be melting off if it weren’t for the artists who put it on for you.

Always have to look good in front of the camera. All of you. Seeing Logan in a suit was certainly a surprise. You’re almost completely sure that your father had to give him a bonus to even consider wearing it today.

He looks good, but you honestly prefer him in the normal beater and leather jacket. It’s something so uniquely him. This is just a reminder of your reality, that nothing around you is real. It’s all pretty lies wrapped up in expensive clothes.

You have to bite your tongue and hold back a grimace when your father begins his speech. “First, we had to let them into our jobs. Now they’re in our schools! Our children aren’t safe, not when they’ve got loaded weapons sitting beside them! Because that’s exactly what they are, weapons of mass destruction that will take apart-”

“Fuck me,” you hiss under your breath. Your cheeks hurt from keeping this smile on your face. You’re struggling not to flinch every time the crowd surges up to agree with him, bigoted shouts making your ears bleed.

Logan’s brows raise and he gives you a brief glance over his shoulder. Your face pinches in confusion only for a moment before you quickly correct it. Still, you keep your lips nearly completely motionless as you whisper, “Can you hear me?”

You dart your gaze back down to him and catch the barest of nods. Your smile softens, becoming something real if only for a moment. You don’t say anything else, you don’t need to. It’s just a comfort to know someone else is there with you, seeing through the painted faces and plastic smiles.

There’s movement in the crowd. It cuts your father off midsentence. He peers over the podium, trying to get a better look at what’s happening. You hear someone scream and then the entire crowd is getting knocked to the ground.

You jump back in shock, everyone on stage still. The security, however, is rushing to get to you and your family. It’s too late, though, there’s a mutant in the crowd and his eyes are set on you. “Fuck you,” he screams out your father's name and lugs something at the stage.

You hear someone shout your name but it’s too late. Glass shatters against the side of your face. It takes less than a second for the pain to start. You can feel holes being burned through your skin, like living fire melting through your bones and gums. A scream rips out of your throat, your hands coming up to block your face too late.

“Get her out of here!”

As agonizing as it is, you can already feel your skin working to mend itself. You can practically hear the flesh bonding back together. But the acid is dripping down you. It keeps moving steadily through your clothes and skin, your abilities on overdrive trying to repair the damage.

You can’t focus on anything except the sensation of being burned alive. Suddenly, there’s an arm being thrown around your shoulder and you’re being lifted off your feet. Your skin scrapes against the rough material of someone’s blazer and it makes you grit your teeth and scream again.

“I know, hold on kid, it’ll be over in a minute.” Logan rushes you behind the stage, where there are no cameras to watch you heal. You don’t know how your father’s PR team is going to spin this. Everyone saw it, saw the way your flesh bubbled and boiled. There’s no hiding the fact that half your face should be melted off.

“Car,” you grunt out when he puts you on your feet again.

His hands are clamped firmly around your shoulders, inspecting you for any further damage. “What?”

“We gotta get to the car,” the words are a struggle to get out. Your lungs constrict painfully in your chest while you force the rest out. “Can’t let them see.”

He looks pissed off that that's what you're worried about and not the fact that you were just attacked. Finally, after a minute of just staring at you, he nods. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and runs with you back to the limo. He throws the door open, pushing you inside and sliding in beside you.

You take in a deep breath the second you’re no longer in view of the TV cameras. “Fuck,” you gasp out. Your dress is in tatters on your left side and you quickly cover your chest. You pray that you didn’t accidentally flash anything while you were still on stage. Your father would never forgive you for that.

It’s silent in the car for a moment. You feel something being draped over your shoulder and look over to see Logan passing you his jacket. When he catches your gaze he gently grabs your jaw and titls your face towards his.

His eyes rove over the left side of your face and he gives you a tight smile. “You’re fine, kid.”

You pull your chin out of his grip and pull his jacket closed around you. “See why my father wanted you around? How would he have ever explained his daughter surviving an acid attack?”

There’s something pinched in his gaze. A deep-seated irritation and something else you’re too tired to identify. He’s looking at you oddly and you wish he wouldn’t. You press your forehead to the cool glass of the window and slump against the car door.

You don’t know when you fall asleep but by the time you wake up, Logan’s already carrying you up to your room. He sees you shift awake and places you on your feet. You steady yourself against the stair banister and walk the rest of the way to your room, trying to shake off the pain of the day.

You look back just in time to see Logan at the front door. “Goodnight,” you call down to him. You know he can hear you, but he walks through the door without another word. You bite your lip, ignoring the sinking feeling of your gut.

You toss your destroyed dress to the floor and turn your TV on. You surf through the channels for a bit before finding a clip of today’s incident. “-apparently part of a protest for mutants against the government. I don’t know Bill, they seem to just be proving everybody’s point. They are unsafe.”

“I agree, my thoughts and prayers go out to…”

You roll your eyes as they say your name. They’re saying it wasn’t acid, instead it’s some sort of chemical compound that causes extreme pain. Even you don’t believe that bullshit. You have a feeling your father is going to be looking for a new PR team tomorrow.

Your attention is snagged by the replay of the accident. You don’t focus on the acid, you don’t want to. Instead, you see how quickly Logan rushed to your side. He seemed to be right there even as the acid was being thrown.

Your brows pinch together and you glance at the jacket beside you. He’d forgotten to take it back before he left. You pick it up, eyes skating over the fabric before you find what you’re looking for. There’s a large hole in the right sleeve, acid having burned through it.

You hadn’t even realized he was in pain. You know he can heal, but it doesn’t get rid of the fluttering feeling in your stomach. You’ve never had someone look after you like that.

You grin to yourself, tucking the jacket in the back of your closet. You’re sure he wouldn’t want it back and you’re not planning on parting with it anytime soon.

You’re on house arrest for a week after the acid incident. Which includes no school. Your father has to play into the idea that you’re recovering from the trauma and healing. You don’t know how much longer he’s planning on keeping you locked up but you’re going stir crazy.

Not only do you not get to go to classes, but Logan isn’t around either. He doesn’t need to be, not when the only place you’re in is your room. He’s not a friend, he’s made that clear, but he’s something. And you are desperately craving that specific something.

“It was a sickening attack against my daughter that my wife and I are still trying to recover from.” You roll your eyes as you listen to your father spew his bullshit to the interviewer in the next room.

You’re not allowed to be out and about, of course. You can’t risk someone seeing you. But that doesn’t stop you from lurking.

“It was an incredibly traumatic experience for her, I’m sure.” You grin to yourself, picking at your nails. You like this one, whoever the reporter is interviewing him. She hasn’t let him catch a break. Especially not when he tries to capitalize on your trauma. Even though he hasn’t checked in once with you.

“Well,” he splutters for a moment. “Yes, of course,” he tries to sound humble but anyone can tell he’s just covering his ass. “And it just further proves what I’ve always said about mutants. They are animals, they’re not like us.”

You’d think at a certain point you’d go numb to it. You’ve been raised hearing this rhetoric from him all your life. But the sting never eases. That cloying ache in your chest never quite leaves you. Not when you know the only reason he publicly accepts you is for political gains. So everyone can see what a wonderful father he is and vote for him.

You feel sick to your stomach and you don’t think you can listen to much more of this. But right as you’re about to tap out a hand clamps down on your shoulder. You nearly scream but you catch a whiff of the man’s aftershave and your mouth snaps shut.

You leap out of your chair and whip around, a grin plastered on your face. “Logan, what are you doing here?” You can’t disguise the giddiness in your voice. He might constantly be reminding you that you hold nothing more than a professional relationship, but you don’t give a shit. He’s a constant in your life and that’s rare for you, so you’ll latch onto whatever comfort you can find.

His gaze briefly darts to the connecting wall to your father’s study and you flush. He’d probably heard all of that. You’ve never had someone see the side of your father that you do. There’s something shamefully embarrassing about it.

He looks back at you and gives you a sly smirk. “Wanna get out of here?” You’d have to be an idiot to say no.

“Uh,” you can hear the music from where you stand across the street. You shuffle uncertainly on your feet beside Logan, glancing up and down the sidewalk like your father’s going to pop out of an alleyway. “I don’t know if this is such a good idea.”

Logan tugs his cigar out of his mouth. He’s leaned up against a lamppost and he’s watched you struggle for the past ten minutes. “Live a little kid, would ya?”

You look back at the dingy bar and grimace. “Okay, there’s a difference between living a little and having my face blasted on the news. How’s it going to look if I’m photographed at a bar while I’m meant to be healing?”

Logan points with his cigar to the entrance of the bar. “I can promise you, no one in there gives a fuck about who your daddy is.” Comforting, and a little humbling.

You take in a deep breath and Logan must sense the change in your demeanor. He flicks the cigar to the ground, crushing it with the heel of his boot. He holds his arm out, “Ready, kid?”

You nod, hurrying to his side and slipping under his grasp. He lets his arm hang heavily around your shoulder, hand squeezing your bicep gently to try and quell your nerves. You’d be swooning at the touch if you weren’t about to throw up from anxiety.

You used to have a life. Until your father had blown it up. You haven’t been around this many people in ages. Well, you haven’t been around people who are just having fun and not sucking up to every politician’s kid they meet.

The music gets louder as you step over through the threshold of the bar. The soles of your shoes stick to the floor. People laugh loudly all around you, some of them shouting up at TV screens for whatever sport is currently playing. You’re sure half of them don’t even normally watch the game. They just need an excuse to get their wives off their backs.

The thought brings a small smile to your lips. Logan glances down at you and frowns, “You are old enough to drink, aren’t you?”

You roll your eyes and move out from under his hold. “Yes, Logan. I’m going into a master’s program, my frontal lobe is fully formed.”

He huffs a little at the attitude, cheeks twitching with a suppressed smile. He nods towards the back of the bar, “Find a seat, I’ll get us drinks.” He walks towards the bar without another word and you resent him a little for it.

Without him beside you, it’s like everything comes crashing down all at once. The songs playing grate on your ears. Every laugh feels like they’re screaming in your face. You’ve never been more in tune with your sense of smell and you hate it.

Your hands tremble by your sides and you nearly miss the man in front of you spilling his beer down his shirt. It looks completely unnatural, the way it just flips out of his hand. And you know it’s your doing.

You shove through him and his friends, running to the back and sliding into the first booth you see. You dig your nails into your palms, taking a few deep breaths to try and calm your heart rate down a bit.

Logan slides into the seat across from you, placing a beer in front of you. It’s barely touched the grimy wood of the table before you tip your head back and drain it. You’ve never been a particular fan of beer or any alcohol for that matter.

But right now you need a buzz before you accidentally level the whole bar. You slam the bottle back on the table, taking in a deep breath, and sitting back. Logan gives you a hard stare, glancing between you and the empty bottle.

He clicks his tongue and stands up, “I’ll go get another one.”

You bite your lip and give him a sheepish, “Thank you.”

It doesn’t take long for the buzz to settle in. There’s a slight tingling in your legs and the tips of your fingers. It almost feels like how you get when you’re starting to get aroused. But you don’t know if that’s from the alcohol or the way Logan looks in his slutty little t-shirt.

Definitely tipsy, you think to yourself, nudging your third beer to the side.

“Always been a lightweight?” He teases, watching you with amusement in his gaze while he works on what must be his fifth whiskey.

You shake your head with a soft smile. “No, I used to go out with my friends all the time.” You laugh a little at the memories and lean in a little closer like you’re sharing some horrible secret. Logan rolls his eyes but acquiesces, leaning in to listen to you speak. “We made up alter egos for our drunk selves. Wanna know mine?” You ask, wiggling your eyebrows at him with a stupid grin.

His brows pinch together and he frowns, “I don’t think so.”

You laugh and lean back in your seat. “You’re the worst!” He places his glass down on the table and fixes you with an odd look. You shift around uncomfortably, “What is it?”

“What happened to your friends? Why are you hanging out with me and not them?”

“Oh,” your gaze drops to the table and you suddenly find the stains on it very interesting. It’s practically abstract art. You swallow harshly around the lump in your throat and shrug. “Um, just all the stuff with my dad happened, and,” you shrug, “I don’t know. My life kind of fell apart.”

You try and shake off the funk, bring back the happy-go-lucky feeling you were in only minutes ago. “I had to move out of the dorms and head back home. My friends stopped talking to me. My boyfriend dumped me. It all just kind of blew up.”

Logan frowns and you swear he seems angry on your behalf. It’s a nice feeling, having someone care enough to hold a grudge for you. “You ever tell him how it was all affecting you?”

You snort, “Of course I did. He was overjoyed. He never liked my friends, especially not my boyfriend, they encouraged me to be too independent. He thought I was losing the values he raised me with. He just never cared to learn that I never agreed with them in the first place.”

Logan doesn’t say anything for a while and you let your gaze drift to the karaoke stage. Two women are singing a bad redemption of Led Zeppelin and it makes you smile. You don’t see the way Logan’s eyes linger on the curve of your lips and then drop to your chest.

You never seem to notice how you make him squirm. There is something so interesting about you. Something so different from the families he worked with before. He doesn’t know if it's the whole mutant thing, if you two are somehow kindred spirits in that regard. He doubts it, he’s never really cared much about that.

But he knows that there is something magnetic about you. It draws him in and makes him hate his own rules. He promised not to get involved with another client. It always ends messy, most times bloody.

You turn back to him and smile. Your voice is a low purr as you ask, “You wanna get out of here?”

Of course, he’s never been one to follow the rules.

“I am so sorry about this. Really.”

Logan glares down at you while you straighten out his tie. You duck your head so you don’t have to meet his gaze and he lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“Forget it, kid.” He says it with a smirk but it doesn’t make you feel any less guilty.

This will be your first public appearance since the incident. It’s a gala, of course, because your father hates you. He’d demanded you find a date, someone to look pretty on your arm because he doesn’t want you talking while you’re there. You’re meant for pictures and nothing more.

Considering the fact that no one wants to talk to you on campus, the acid incident not helping at all, you had no luck finding a date. You’d had to beg on hands and knees for days to get Logan to agree.

You don’t know what it is that finally made him cave but you’re grateful for it. You think your father was expecting you to fail. To come crawling to him and be forced to go with who he wanted you to go with.

You were not going to spend the whole night listening to some political major try and explain your own father’s campaign to you. You’d rather swallow acid than go through that for another night. Your father, of course, doesn’t know that Logan is taking you.

You’re planning on ambushing him with it. He can’t do anything about it now. He wants you to have a date for some reason and there’s no way for him to find a backup now. You take a step back from him and turn to look in the mirror.

Side by side, you do make an incredibly attractive couple. He looks amazing in his suit, his muscles just slightly pushing against the fabric. And as much as he hates the tie and constricting material, he makes it work.

And you feel pretty for the first time in a long time. You actually got to do your own hair and makeup for once. You’re a lot less heavy-handed than the assistants your father hires. You feel comfortable in your own skin, finally, wearing the deep red dress your stepmother had gotten for you.

“We look good,” you muse.

Logan looks down at you and smiles slightly, “You do.”

You give him a confused grin, “I said we.”

He leans down, lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispers, “I know what you said, sweetheart.” Your heart nearly beats out of your chest at the proximity. Gooseflesh raises on your arms where he’s touching you and your knee buckles ever so slightly.

You can perfectly imagine his husky voice whispering something much, much dirtier to you. He pulls back with a slight chuckle and forcefully turns you around. “Come on, kid, we’re gonna be late.”

He nudges you towards your bedroom door and you nod your head mutely. He keeps doing that to you. These little things that could be so easily dismissed as you reading into his actions. But you know, deep down, you’re not reading into anything.

But you don’t know what to do with this information that he might possibly be into you. Or at the very least, attracted to you. He made it clear early on that he wants nothing but professionalism between the two of you, yet he continually breaks his own rule.

Your father and stepmother are waiting at the bottom of the stairs for you both. Your stepmother smiles when she sees you but your father’s face screws up in anger. “Are you fucking kidding me? The goddamn bodyguard?”

You shrug and slip past him, already walking to the front door. “A date’s a date.” You pause and grin over at him, “What are you going to do about it?” It’s a taunt, one you don’t give him a chance to respond to.

You’re already slipping outside and heading to the town car. Something about Logan being with you emboldens you to act in ways you never would. Even when he’s not there, when you’re just having family dinner and your father says something off-putting. You fight back, you don’t let him steamroll you and your opinions.

You feel better than you have in ages with Logan beside you. Still, the ride there is incredibly awkward.

The hotel is grand and luxurious. But they all are. You feel guilty complaining about your life when this is your weekend. What do you have to be upset about when you regularly stay in five-star motels and wear designer dresses without glancing at the price tag?

Sometimes you feel guilty around Logan. You wonder if he ever resents you for your privilege. You might be a mutant like him, sure, but you’ve never had to struggle to make ends meet. Or try and scrap together enough money to get your next meal. You’ve never had to worry about where you’re going to sleep next or if you’ll have a roof over your head.

Your struggles have been so different that you worry if something ever did happen between the two of you, you might not work together.

But those are spiraling thoughts for another time. Right now, you’re just trying to get through the front door without someone bombarding your father with questions on his stance about whatever.

When it’s clear that he’s going to be there for a while, he sends you and Logan off to the ballroom on your own. You feel bad for your stepmother, having to stay behind and pretend she’s interested as they bore her with stories that have no real meaning.

“Poor woman,” you mutter, watching her struggle to keep the smile on her face.

“You don’t call her mom,” Logan muses. You turn to look at him and he just shrugs. “Just a little weird.”

“Well, she’s not my mom.” His head tilts in confusion and you elaborate. “My bio mom left the second she figured out she gave birth to a mutant. We lie to the public, stepmom’s interfere with the perfect nuclear family ideal my dad’s pushing for.”

“If he cares so much about family then why don’t you have your dad’s last name?” A good question, one you had to field a lot when you first started school.

You give him a sly grin, “Took my mom's maiden name the second I was eighteen, just to piss him off.” There’s no true reason behind it other than being vindictive and petty. “He’s been trying to get me to change it for years but he can’t force me to. Besides, I like having my name separate from theirs. Lets me pretend I’m not a part of the family. Don’t get me wrong, she’s nice and all, we just never really had the chance to bond.”

Someone passes by you. A couple you know you’re supposed to recognize but you can’t place their names. The man calls out your name, coming toward you with his arms open wide. You can see Logan tense up slightly beside you, bodyguard instincts coming out for a moment.

You squeeze his hand briefly before stepping forward to hug the man. “So nice to see you, again.” You tell him. He grins and squeezes you a little closer to his chest than necessary.

Logan clears his throat, glaring at the man’s drifting hands. Before either of you can react, Logan is pulling you back, hand resting lightly over the small of your back. He holds his hand out, forcing the man to shake his hand and take his attention off of you.

You can’t hold back the smile on your lips when you see how much smaller the man is under Logan’s intense stare. You’ve gotten used to the men at these events treating you however they want. They don’t see you as a human, you are your father’s accessory and their toy. You envy Logan for how easily he can dismiss these men, take away their larger-than-life personalities, and reduce them to the sniveling rats they truly are.

He doesn’t even speak, simply tugs you towards the ballroom and away from the man’s wandering hands. You can’t help the stupid smile on your face while you look at him. He glances out the side of his eye and huffs, “What?” He snaps, tone impatient.

You shrug and shake your head. “Nothing, you’re just…” You trail off, unsure how to continue. You don’t want to make him uncomfortable by telling him how you really feel about him. How deeply you appreciate him, how horribly you desire him. You’re afraid it will all just blow up in your face. That you’ll have truly been reading into everything and gotten his intentions all wrong. After all, he’s made it abundantly clear that there’s meant to be nothing between the two of you except a paycheck.

You take in a deep breath, smile faltering, “Nothing.” You finally spit out, slipping out of his grasp and walking quicker towards the doors. His hand lingers on your back, fingers trailing slowly down your spine until you’re completely out of his reach.

The chatter inside gets louder the closer you get to the entrance. You listen to the indiscernible voices, the quartet playing in the corner, and the clink of metal on the glass as they all eat. You straighten out your shoulders and put on your best smile, mentally preparing yourself to keep it stiff on your cheeks for the rest of the night.

Logan catches up to you, the both of you stopping the second you see the inside of the ballroom.

People Against Mutants

Evolution or Monstrosities

Parents for the Removal of Mutant Children

Your eyes widen as you take in the banners and signs hanging off the walls. More and more uncreative rhetoric all for the annihilation of mutants. Of people like you and Logan. Your smile drops immediately and you know you should have expected something like this from your father. He’d been refusing to tell you what this gala was for, saying offhandly he was just raising some money.

You thought it was another charity. Not this. Not people, quite literally, calling for your head. For Logan’s head. You suck in a sharp breath and glance towards the silent man beside you. His jaw is clenched as he takes in all the finely dressed people around you. They’re all laughing and chatting like they’re not actively campaigning for the destruction of children.

“Bar?” You ask, already walking towards it.

“Sounds good to me.” His hand is on your back again and you’re grateful for it. The glower on his face, the attitude that screams I don’t belong here keeps people away from you. He shoulders through the men huddling around the bar, forcefully clearing space for the two of you.

And when they turn around, posturing like they’re going to say something, he only has to look at them for them to retreat with their tails tucked. It’s ridiculously attractive seeing someone command these men so easily.

“Whiskey,” Logan grumbles, he looks back at you and you slide beside him, leaning your elbows against the cool counter.

“Just champagne, please,” you tell the bartender. He nods, quickly making your drinks and handing them to you. You turn with the flute in your hand, surveying the room. It feels less like a gala and more like a production of false niceties that will never end and never be genuine.

“Don’t know how you deal with these fuckers all the time,” Logan mutters, glaring as a man slams into him and keeps walking without apologizing.

You let out a short huff of laughter, “Honestly,” he glances over at you and you shrug. “I’ve got no fucking clue either.” He scoffs and takes a swig from his glass. But you can’t take your eyes off of him. You feel the words on the tip of your tongue, weighing you down until you feel like you have no choice but to spit them out.

“You,” his brows quirk up and he glances over at you. You take in a deep breath and start over, nerves making your palms sweaty around the glass. “You make it bearable.”

Logan’s face falls and he sucks in a deep breath. You see the expression on his face, you know what he’s going to tell you. And you hate how apologetic he looks. You especially despise the way he’s making you feel pitied. He’s never done that before and you don’t want him to start now.

“Don’t,” you tell him before he can say anything. You let out a self-deprecating laugh and place the champagne flute on the bar so you don’t have to look at him. “I know what you’re going to say, alright. So, just, don’t.”

Logan purses his lips and grabs your jaw. You try and jerk your face out of his grasp but he doesn’t let you, he forces you to look at him. He only lets go once you reluctantly make eye contact. You’re surprised by the look on his face. There’s no pity in his gaze like you’d expected.

This is something else, something darker and more twisted. You can’t put your finger on what exactly you’re seeing but you know it makes your heart race and your thighs clench. “Listen, sweetheart, I-”

“What the hell are you doing?” You jump away from him but Logan just clenches his eyes shut with a short huff of irritated breath. You clear your throat and turn to face your father. He’s glaring between you and Logan, but smiles warmly anytime someone looks your way. “I didn’t bring you here so my contributors could see what a fucking whore you are for the help.”

“Dad!” You exclaim, eyes widening in horror. But Logan doesn’t seem bothered by your father’s words. If anything it seems to incense him, his hand drifting from your jaw to drape itself over the nape of your neck. You try not to show just how much the possessive grip is affecting you but you know they can both tell.

Your father’s face pinches and he nearly stomps his foot as he looks between you and Logan. He looks like he wants to say something else but your stepmother, thankfully, calls his name. She waves him over towards her and you hold your breath, waiting to see what he’s going to do.

He takes in short puffs of air, straightening out his suit jacket and glaring at you. “You’re not going to be a fucking wallflower all night, got it?” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he’s stomping off. He calls out a warm greeting to someone across the room and you feel like you can finally breathe again.

You give Logan a tired smile and nod towards the rest of the party. “Time to mingle.”

He laughs, loudly, enough to make people’s heads turn. You can feel your skin heating up from embarrassment and flinch away from the sound. “Sorry, kid, mingling ain’t part of my contract.”

Your jaw drops as you glare at him. “Are you serious?”

He turns back to the bar, flagging down the bartender for a refill. “Deadly,” he tells you firmly, barely looking at you. You roll your eyes and walk away from him, glaring at his back the whole time you do so.

He thought coming to one of these things, being stuffed in a scratchy suit, would be his worst nightmare. He was proven wrong when he heard them talking to each other. Bitching about golf and their mistresses wanting more attention. Their kids nagging them and their wives being bitches.

All of it made him want to down a whole bottle of whiskey and then blow his brains out. His worst nightmare turned into ever having to hold a conversation with one of these pricks.

Then, he turns around, surveying the room for wherever you were lurking. He expects you to be by your father’s side or hiding somewhere in a corner. Instead, you’re standing close -extremely close - to some pretty boy.

His hand is on your waist and you’re laughing at whatever boring fucking story he’s telling you. Logan tries to pick up on your conversation but there are too many things happening at once already. His senses are on overdrive and he’s already struggling against a migraine.

He feels something brewing in his gut, something he’s been trying to just shove down for months. He doesn’t know what it is he hates about this picture but it makes him sick to his stomach. He hears something crack and looks down to find the glass of whiskey split on one side.

“Shit,” he hisses, slamming the glass on the bar behind him. He shakes his hand out and tries to unclench his fists but it’s hard. He couldn’t have possibly been standing here long enough for you to suddenly find the love of your life. Why the fuck are the two of you so close?

This was so unlike you. Rarely did you ever have something good to say about the men you would encounter at these things. He’d heard you bitch about it enough times. Something about this isn’t adding up and he doesn’t know if it’s his own jealousy or intuition.

Still, he finds himself pushing away from the bar and stalking towards you both. Closer, he can finally see what the problem is. Your hands are on the guy's chest but you aren’t leaning against him, you’re actively trying to push him away.

It makes Logan’s blood boil, jaw clenching as he tries to keep himself at bay. He didn’t want to cave some kid’s head in in the middle of the gala. But the closer he got the clearer he could hear your hissed warnings to take his hands off of you.

Logan finally reaches you and the look of sheer relief on your face makes him want to bring the claws out. He’d love to see that smug smirk ripped off his face, but he holds back. If only so he doesn’t traumatize you.

“Alright, bub, hands off,” he warns.

“Why don’t you just leave us alone?” He had to give it to the kid, he’s got balls. Rarely did anyone ever buck up to him like this. Normally, he might entertain him a bit, drag this on longer than necessary to get a kick out of it.

But he still hasn’t taken his hands off of you and Logan’s not interested in fucking around tonight. Without a word, he grabs the kid by the collar of his jacket and tosses him away from you.

He lands roughly on the floor with a loud gasp and people turn to look. Logan pays no mind to the onlookers. He places his hand on your back and leads you out of the ballroom, unwilling to have eyes on you for the rest of this conversation.

“Logan,” you start, tone nervous.

“Don’t,” he snaps. He regrets it immediately from the way you jump in surprise. He lets out a rough sigh, running his hand down his face, and walks through the first door he finds. “I’m sorry, kid, I just-”

“Logan,” you cut him off. The tone of your voice is enough to get him to finally look at you. Your arms are crossed and you’re glaring at him. “Why the fuck did you drag us into a closet?”

His brows furrow in confusion and he glances around, finally realizing what he walked into, “Fuck,” he hisses. He gropes blindly around the room for a light switch. There’s a small click and then an unflattering fluorescent light is shining down on you both. He’s managed to drag you both into a small, incredibly cramped, cleaning closet.

You’re grimacing as you push a few mops away from your head. You look over at him and something about the look on his face must be funny because you start to laugh. “What were you thinking?”

Your smile makes one curl up on his own lips. He can’t help it, something about you eases a bit of the tightness constantly lurking inside him. “Thought it was one of those stuffy conference rooms.”

You scoff and reach for the handle, “Just a stuffy closest, good going, Logan.” You roll your eyes and tug on the knob. Your brows furrow together as you jiggle the handle every which way, desperately pulling on it.

“Move over,” Logan mutters, nudging you to the side. He wraps his hand around the handle and yanks on it, expecting the door to swing open. When it doesn’t his face falls.

“Did you miraculously unlock it, genius?” You demand sarcastically. Logan feels his shoulders tense up, frustration levels steadily rising. He’s already got a shit temper, he doesn’t need you adding to this.

“No,” he snipes, “but I don’t see you coming up with any wonderful solutions.”

You throw your hands up in the air, wincing when your elbow collides with the shelving unit behind you. “I didn’t drag us into this mess! Why did you even come in here?” You demand and he can see how angry you are.

It shows in the way you tapped your heeled feet against the floor and glower at him like he’s the bane of your existence. He doesn’t know what happens, what comes over him, or why this is the moment he chooses to break his rule.

Your back slams into the shelves behind you and you gasp as he surges towards you. His hands come up to cup your cheeks and before you get a chance to question him, his mouth is covering your own. Logan buries his hand in your hair, ruining the perfectly styled curls. You don’t seem to mind much if the way you arch into him is anything to go by.

His tongue runs across the seam of your lips, tasting the cherry-flavored gloss you’d applied earlier. He wants to devour you. Consume you body and soul, take everything you have to give, and then keep going. He doesn’t want to stop, but he’s not sure he wants the first place you have sex to be in a janitor’s closet.

He pulls back, tugging you back when you try to chase his lips with your own. “Shouldn’t do this here,” he mutters. He’s struggling to hold back. And when you look up at him, lips swollen from his kiss, and you mutter why, how is he meant to resist?

He tugs you away from the shelves, pushing you against the door so he doesn’t have to see your face twist up in pain every time the corner digs into your lower back. Your hands drop down to his belt, lips desperately carving a path down his neck.

He’d laugh at your eagerness if he wasn’t just as desperate for you. He reaches for the hem of your dress but it’s one of those floor-length gowns with no slits. He struggled for a minute before getting too impatient and just muttering, “Fuck it.”

You gasp when you feel the metal of his claw against your leg, eyes dropping down to watch as he makes himself a slit. He slices the fabric along your thigh and then just rips it. “Logan,” you hiss as he hikes the silk over your hips.

“Something wrong, sweetheart?” You glare at him, eyes darting between him and his pants before you finally shake your head. He laughs slightly, hand drifting under your dress and reveling in the way you shiver under his touch. “Yeah,” he whispers, “that’s what I thought.”

His fingers move gently along your thighs, easing you into his touch. You let out breathy whimpers, tucking your face in his neck the closer he gets to your core. He lets his hand drift lower, searching out the band of your underwear.

He’s pleasantly surprised when he’s met with nothing but you dripping for him. “Shit, you’re not wearing any underwear?”

You freeze and keep your face stubbornly buried in his neck. Logan laughs slightly, tugging you back and forcing you to look up at him. You mumble something under your breath. It’s said so quickly he can barely understand you. “What was that?”

“Ugh, god, Logan.” You groan and let your eyes drop down to his shirt, fiddling with the end of his tie. “I was hoping this would happen.”

When he doesn’t say anything your face shifts, worry gnawing away at you. You glance up at him and are surprised by the intensity of his gaze. He’s staring down at you like he wants to eat you whole. His pupils have consumed all the color of his eyes, there’s nothing but want on his face.

“You wanna know why I agreed to come with you, kid?”

Your mind is completely dulled just by being this close to him. It takes you a moment to process what he’s saying before you nod your head. “Why?”

The look on his face reminds you of a wolf guarding its territory. It’s predatorial, animalistic, it makes you want him even more. “I didn’t want any of these little boys getting a chance to have their hands on you.” His gaze drops down to your lips and he leans in until your breaths are mingling together.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you.” He dips his head down and his kiss isn’t as intense as it was the first time. His lips move lazily over your own, tongue stroking against yours like he’s savoring the taste.

You can taste the whiskey he’d drank earlier, can still smell cigars on his breath. It should be revolting, you’ve never liked kissing smokers. But there is something so intoxicating about him. Everything he does is enchanting to you.

It’s a naive train of thought but you trust him wholly. He could do whatever he wanted to you and you’d let him willingly. His hands continue their exploration down your body and you can’t help but arch into his touch. His fingers stroke languidly over your center and you moan into his mouth.

Your lips part with little gasps and your head thunks loudly against the door. Neither of you notice or care, you’ve all but forgotten the gala outside. The government employees and rich socialites that you’re supposed to be entertaining.

And when he slips a finger inside you, you don’t care who hears you call out his name. The rough pad of his finger creates a feeling you’ve never been able to produce on your own. There’s something so exhilarating about this whole situation.

Stuck in this tiny closet, no air to breathe but each other’s. No room for anything other than your bodies pressed as closely together as possible. You're completely surrounded by him and you never want to leave.

“Logan,” you gasp out his name and shove at his shoulders. He momentarily stops his ministrations, giving you a worried look. “Please, I just want you.” You tug at his wrist, hissing when his fingers leave you with a lewd pop.

He looks hesitant, but you can see the way he’s straining against his boxers. You let your hand trail down his stomach, palming him through the thin fabric. His hips buck into your hands and he lets out the most attractive noise you’ve ever heard. You’ve always liked guys who aren’t afraid to be vocal.

“Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he whispers. He swats your hands to the sides, tugging his boxers down and squeezing your hips hard enough to bruise. “Come on, up.”

You jump and he slings your legs around his waist, lining himself up with your entrance. He drags you slowly down his cock, resting your back against the door and giving a hesitant thrust inside you.

You can’t help the low groan that leaves your parted lips. It’s like you’re full of nothing but him. You’d been mentally prepared for the stretch he would present, but you probably should have given him more time to warn you up.

You don’t care though, this is all you’ve been craving for months. To feel nothing, taste nothing but him. You’ve been praying that he feels the same way you do, and if the look on his face is anything to go by, he does.

He looks completely wrecked, head resting on your shoulder while you both take a breath. It’s overwhelming, this feeling of finally having what you’ve always wanted. Someone you can give yourself to completely and still feel safe with them.

You drag your hand up his back, burying it in his hair and reveling in how soft it is. You tug him back by the roots, tilting his neck until he’s forced to look at you. Your gaze drops to his reddened lips and you smile at the gloss you’ve smeared across his chin.

“Come on, Logan, don’t tell me you’re all talk.”

His eyes narrow but you can see the amusement swimming within them. “You’re gonna regret that.”

“Oh, yeah?” You goad, grinding your hips down against his and biting your lip hard enough to draw blood. You’re trying not to make a noise, trying to make sure he doesn’t see just how much he’s affecting you. But you can already feel your orgasm forming, it’s a low tingle in the tips of your toes, a burning hot desire rushing through your thighs as you clench around him.

“Yeah,” he promises, thrusting sharply into you. This time the moan is forced out of you, your lips parting unbidden as you slump over him, burying your face in his neck. He doesn’t waste any time, using your hips as handles to pump you over his cock like you’re nothing more than a toy.

The door rattles behind you, each thrust of his hips makes it shake in its frame. His hands fist the back of your dress, grip so tight you think it might tear. You don’t care. He could rip it off of you and you’d walk outside naked right now.

You don’t care what happens, not when he’s beside you. There’s a feeling of security that comes from being around Logan and you can feel it in this moment. You trust him to take care of you in every way.

Maybe you shouldn’t. After all, you two haven’t known each other long. But there’s not much you’re worried about when he’s moving steadily inside you. You can taste the desperation you share for each other in each pump of his hips.

He whispers it into your ear while you claw at his back. The shelves around you shake and you worry you might bring them down if you can’t rope yourself in. But you can feel the wave building in the back of your throat, your vision blurring as you tighten your legs around his waist and begin to match his rhythm.

“There you go,” he mutters, pinning you to the door and keeping your hips still while he moves inside you. “Come on, I can feel you clenching around me, sweetheart.” He manages to hold you up with one hand, the other diving between your legs to rub tight circles around your bundle of nerves.

It doesn’t take much longer for your muscles to seize up, back bowing as you clench desperately around him. “Oh, fuck, Logan,” you shout his name, and his hand quickly comes up to smother your cries. He squeezes your cheeks until your eyes snap open and he drags you down to meet his gaze.

“Don’t want to lose my job, need you to be quiet for me,” he grunts out, his tone breathy and strained. He loses his rhythm, movements speeding up erratically while he lets out low groans and whispers of your name. You almost cum again when he finally finishes inside you.

Your limbs are twitching in overstimulation by the time his hips still. You feel completely boneless, body slumped lazily in his arms. He wraps both arms around you, squeezing you a little before slowly lifting you off of him.

It’s a relief of pressure when he pulls out. His cum leaks out of you, dribbling down your thighs and dripping onto the floor of the closest. Your face screws up at the feeling and you internally cringe. No condom was probably a stupid call.

But you don’t really want to think about the repercussions right now. Not when he’s stroking your hair and rubbing a soothing hand down your back, waiting until you can form a coherent sentence before he lets you go. “Alright?” He asks, voice bordering on something smug.

“Mhm,” you push away from him, legs shaky as you try and straighten out your dress. It’s a loss cause, trying to hide what happened in here at all. You’ve got a tear going up to your hip and you’re pretty sure there are holes in the back. Logan’s tie is gone and you don’t even remember taking that off. His shirt is completely wrinkled and your lip gloss has stained his face.

You’ve both got horrific sex hair and the room reeks of it. You don’t know how you're going to sneak out of here. You still try and relax your hair, patting down the flyaways while Logan retucks his shirt.

It’s silent between the two of you, heavy but not awkward. You don’t think either of you knows what to say now that you’ve physically acted on what you want. A sudden thought hits you, makes your heart clench painfully and your tongue ties up in your mouth.

He’d confirmed that he wanted your body. That he desired you sexually. But you don’t think he actually said anything about a real relationship. There would be problems, of course, your father for one would have a lot to say about it. But you don’t care about that. You don’t care about any of the consequences, you just want to be with him.

You open your mouth to ask him what he wants when the door swings open. Both you and Logan whip towards it. But where you look like a deer caught in the headlights he looks like the epitome of male pride.

Especially when he realizes it's your father on the other side. “Dad-” You start, but you have no idea what you could even say. Your dress is in tatters and both you and Logan are still mussed up. There’s no hiding what happened here.

He doesn’t let you finish, holding up his hand. His voice is eerily calm as he says, “I thought I heard something banging around in here.”

“You did,” Logan scoffs, crossing his arms and glaring at your father. You feel your heart jump to your throat, staring over at him with a horrified look on your face. How could he think that was okay to say? It was so dismissive of what you believed had happened.

This was more than just a quickie in the dark to you. This meant something, but you’re seriously starting to doubt that it was the same for him as it was for you. And that just makes you feel like the stupid little girl everyone seems to believe you are.

Your father says your name but you can’t bring yourself to meet his eye. “You’re feeling sick,” he tells you, no room for argument. “Your date had to take you home. It was just too much too soon after the incident at the rally.” When you don’t say anything he shouts out, “Understood?” That makes you jump.

“Yes,” you clear your throat and face him. “Yes, understood.”

Your father has made his stance on mutants clear. He hates them, despises them to their very being, and wishes he could kill every last one. And as much as you were raised with those ideas, they were never truly turned on you.

But he’s looking at you right now like he wishes you were never born. You feel like shit on his shoe. Something to be hidden away and buried. It makes your shoulders slump like a hundred pounds was just tossed onto your back.

You try to run past him but he jerks you back, fingers so tight around your bicep you feel the skin tear. You gasp in pain but don’t say anything, too afraid to argue. “Put his jacket on, I won’t have you looking like a whore.” He releases you with a rough shove and storms off.

You can feel something burning at the back of your eyes. A moment later Logan drops his jacket over your shoulders, pulling you back into his chest and running his hands over your arms. “Come on, kid,” he mutters. There’s something resigned in his voice that makes your heart drop, “Let’s get you home.”

The walk through the lobby feels like you’re walking through a dream. You’re not completely present for it, or the ride home. Your mind and your heart are warring and you feel like you’re going to be torn apart if you keep lingering on what just happened.

You just can’t understand how you could go from having everything you wanted to feeling like the scum of the earth in less than two minutes. Logan doesn’t speak as he drives you home. His knuckles are turning white around the steering wheel and you’re afraid to even try and start a conversation.

You don’t want to hear him tell you that he didn’t desire you past your body. You don’t want to discover that you’re just another notch on his belt. He seems to do this a lot, sleep with the girls he guards. The idea of just being another job, another fun night, makes you absolutely disgusted with yourself.

When he pulls into the driveway of your house you both just sit in the car. Neither of you knows what to say. And the air between you is so thick with tension you feel like you could choke on it. You stare down at your hands, fingers fiddling with the ripped seams of your dress.

You pick at the threads and feel his stare on you. You can’t do this. You can’t deal with the possibility of rejection. Not after what happened between you and certainly not after what your father said.

You undo your seat belt and Logan watches as you go through the movements of getting up. His eyes never leave you and it’s like a physical caress, his stare. Normally it would make you warm inside, comforted by his presence. But right now all you can feel is the chill of where his cum has dried between your legs and the icy-hot stab of nausea in your gut.

You throw the door open and you’re nearly out when he calls out a quiet, “Goodnight.”

You don’t look at him, you can’t. You slam the door shut and walk silently to the front door of your house. You don’t look back, don’t respond, you just slip inside your house and finally let the weight of the night come crashing down on you.

You don’t cry until you hear him pull out of the driveway.

Your father and stepmother usually stay at the hotel the night of a gala. Most nights you come home and enjoy the house to yourself for once. Tonight, you’re woken up by the front door slamming so hard your walls shake.

You can faintly hear your stepmother’s voice trying to console your father. She’s muttering something to him you can’t make out. You shoot out of bed, running to pull some sweatpants on. After you’d cried yourself out you’d taken a shower.

You’ve scrubbed your skin raw but you swear you can still smell him on you. You rush to your bedroom door, turning the knob quietly and slowly peeking your head outside. Your father’s at the bottom of the stairs, the second he spots your open door he’s screaming your name.

Your stomach twists painfully and you can feel panic starting to overwhelm you. Your hands shake and your legs are stiff as you slowly step into the hallway. You’re a grown woman. You shouldn’t feel like this because your dad is going to yell at you.

But he’s been so good at forcing you to rely on him. At forcing you to bend and break to fit his beliefs and mold. You don’t know what to do if you’re not striving for his approval. And right now it’s very clear that he’s never been more disgusted by you.

If the look on his face isn’t enough to twist the knife deeper, his words are. “I have never,” he screams at you. You take a step back, keeping the stairs between you, refusing to meet him in the middle. “Been more embarrassed to call you my daughter. Do you have any idea how humiliating that was for me? Do you know how many people saw you being dragged outside like a fucking whore off the corner?”

You clench your eyes shut, turning your face away from him as the shame becomes a physical thing inside you. You can feel it making its way up your throat. Because he’s right. Tonight you were nothing more than a slut without any self-respect.

But you’re also pissed off. You’re fucking enraged at yourself for being so stupid as to ever believe Logan wanted you for anything more than your body. You're mad at Logan for knowing how you feel about him and taking advantage of it. And you’re so fucking tired of doing everything you can to make your father proud and it never being enough.

“Have you ever once asked me what I want?” You raise your voice, screaming down at him with a ferocity that surprises even you. His eyes widen, frame trembling with unreleased rage. You plow through, not stopping because you know if you do, you’ll never get this out. “No, you haven’t. Not once. Because you don’t fucking love me! And it has taken me years to accept that, to finally realize that you’re incapable of loving anyone but yourself.”

You gasp, the noise wet and painful as something warm trickles down your cheek. You stare down at him with your eyes wide in realization. “It’s so clear to me now, I feel like an idiot for missing it for so long. You never loved me. You’re incapable of it!”

You’re embarrassed at the way your voice cracks. As much as you want to pretend you’re stronger than him, not afraid of him. There’s still a little girl inside you who wonders why Daddy doesn’t love you.

“I don’t give a flying fuck what you want, Dad. I don’t care what you want my life to look like or if I embarrassed you. I’m glad I did, glad someone finally saw a sliver of the truth you try so desperately to hide-”

“Enough!” He shouts and it startles you so bad that you jump back, your abilities reacting and a vase behind you flying off the shelf. You duck as glass shatters across the stairs and floor. You glance at the scene with shocked eyes, looking down at your father to see that he’s not even a little bit surprised.

Instead, he just looks so deeply disappointed that it makes you shrink into yourself. The anger within you is extinguished in a second. He rubs his face, shaking his head and turning his back on you. “Dad?” You call out, voice trembling.

“Go to your room,” he tells you quietly. “I don’t want to look at you anymore.” You hover by the top of the stairs for a moment, not quite believing him yet. And when he realizes you're still there, that you’re not taking him seriously, he finally looks at you again.

“I wish every goddamn day that those doctors had just put you down. I’d rather have a dead daughter than one like you.”

You stand there, stunned, even after the rest of the house has gone to bed. You clean up the pieces of glass while you try and swallow down your tears. Let the sharp edges dig into your skin and tear until you can feel any type of pain besides the one inside you.

A week of solitary confinement. You’re surprised that you haven’t just been kicked out of college. You’re sure that your father’s many donations to the university are the only thing stopping your professors from dropping you from the class.

You don’t care if they do or not, though. You never actually care about what you studied. You’d just always hoped that it would be a way for you to escape the tight grip around your neck your dad has on you.

You’ve figured out that no matter how hard you fight, you’ll never escape him. He hates you and yet, he can’t let you go. You’d laugh if you weren’t busy wallowing in your depression.

Someone keeps leaving food by your door but you can’t find it in yourself to be hungry. You’ll nibble on something, but you feel like you’re going to throw up when you so much as breathe the wrong way.

You haven’t heard from Logan since that night. You knew your father would fire him the second he woke up. But you’d held out hope - foolishly - that he might still try and reach out to you. You have this childish image in your head of the prince coming to rescue the princess from the dragon.

But you’ve been naive your whole life, you don’t want to keep going down this road. You don’t want to keep expecting the best of people and live your life in perpetual disappointment.

You haven’t seen or spoken to your father since that night. Wordlessly, he’d banned you to your room. No one’s said it, but you know you’re not allowed to come out. You don’t know when he’s going to deem you useful again and drag you back out into the public eye.

Contrary to his belief, no one had seen you leave that night with Logan. You hadn’t been in any tabloids or shitty news articles. Besides emotional estrangement from your father and losing the only guy you’ve ever really liked, there were no consequences to your whorish behavior - as your father so lovingly puts it.

You roll over in your bed and picture yourself taking a shower. It feels like such a workout but you can’t stand lying in your sweat and tears for much longer. With a long drawn-out groan, you throw yourself out of bed and enter the bathroom connected to your room.

You know you’ll feel better afterward, but everything besides sleep sounds like too much work. Still, you force yourself inside and finally clean the grime of laying on your ass for a week off.

You walk naked through your room, making a beeline for your dresser. You feel a little better after washing yourself off and moisturizing. But not much. Physical health can only do so much for how you feel inside.

You hope this will blow over soon, you’re not sure how much longer you can take feeling so awful. You hate pitying yourself, and that’s exactly what you’re doing right now. You huff irritatedly, digging around your drawers for your favorite shirt.

A hand clamps around your mouth, rough and big, yanking you back into a muscled chest and keeping you quiet. You still try and scream, hands clawing at the skin of their hand until you feel blood.

“Fuck, quit that, would ya?”

Your erratic movements slowly come to a halt. You still feel your heart pounding against your chest, adrenaline warming your blood and making you feel like you're on fire from the inside out. But, you recognize the voice, recognize there’s no danger to the situation.

That doesn’t make you any less pissed off. When Logan is sure you won’t keep attacking him, he lets you go slowly. You immediately whirl around on him, uncaring that you’re still naked. Energy moves quickly through you, becoming a physical thing under your skin.

He smiles at you and you push the energy out, throwing him across your room. He flies into your bookshelf, crashing to the ground with a loud slam. “What the fuck are you doing?” You scream at him.

There’s no one home right now, luckily, or else you both would be screwed. He shakes his head off, brushing pieces of wood out of his hair and slowly getting to his feet. “Well, I was coming to say hi-”

“You say hi by ambushing naked girls?” You interrupt, grabbing the clothes closest to you and pulling them on quickly.

Logan rolls his neck out and shrugs. “No, that was just a plus,” he gives you that insufferable smirk and you want to scream.

This is the first time you see him in a week since you had sex together and your father officially disowned you. And this is what he’s leading with? Seriously? “You’re a real fucking prince, Logan.” You shake your head with a scoff and glare at him.

He narrows his eyes, looking to be in disbelief at your attitude. “What happened?” You expect to hear irritation in his tone. Anger that you’re being such a bitch right now. Instead, he sounds concerned, like he can see right through you.

You hate that. You used to love having someone who could see past all the pretenses and walls, but it just hurts now. “Nothing,” you tell him, unable to hold eye contact any longer. “Look,” you take in a deep breath, and your brows furrow in confusion. “How the hell did you even get in here?”

Logan doesn’t look like he wants to drop the topic just yet but he relents. He nods towards your window and you fix him with an astonished look. “I climbed, I didn’t want your dad to risk seeing me on the security cameras out front.”

You feel suspicion brewing inside you, tone turning defensive. “Look, if you came here because you want to fuck again, I suggest you go find another girl. I’m not interested anymore.”

“Well,” he scoffs, “I find that hard to believe.” How easily he just dismisses your words. Like they hold no real importance. It makes you want to scream. Instead, you just flick your wrist, throwing him into another wall. You don’t know how you’re going to explain these holes in the wall to your father but you don’t really care.

“Enough,” he snaps, brushing himself off and glaring at you. Your lips curl up in amusement, the first thing you’ve felt besides anger and depression for the last week. “Look, I was coming here to get you the hell out, kid. Clearly, I’m not wanted.”

He walks towards your window, intent on climbing back down the side of your house and leaving. You almost let him, if only to see him scurrying down the wall. Instead, you take a step forward and stop him with a small, “Get me out?”

He sighs, running an aggrieved hand over his face and propping the other on his hip. “Yeah,” he mutters. “Look, I can’t stand the thought of you cooped up in here, isolated from the rest of the world. It’s not fair, I was gonna see if you…” He trails off and roughly swallows.

Your interest piques. Whatever is this hard for him to get out has to be interesting. “Logan,” you call his name softly. “See if I what?”

He huffs out a rough breath, turning around and staring you down. There’s something in his eyes, something reflected in yours. He’s looking at you the same way you always look at him. “You wanna come with me, kid?”

Well, you’d have to be an idiot to say no.

You don’t leave a note. You don’t give them any clues or hints as to where you might have gone. They can draw their own conclusions about what happened to you. They can tell the news whatever twisted lies they want.

You don’t care, that’s not your life anymore. Your life is packed away in a backpack in the back of Logan’s trailer. Your new life is in the passenger seat beside him. You’re equal parts terrified and excited to figure out what you’re going to do with the rest of it.

a/n: can you tell I know fuck all about politics?

Also, smut, wow, this was hard and rough to write. I don’t know why it’s such a struggle. I just feel guilty writing such dirty words, it’s absolutely diabolical that I have no problem being crazy over a guy whose age gap with me is the same age as my parents, but I can’t write smut.

General Taglist: @evasmlp

Logan Taglist: @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp♡

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine imagine #wolverine #deadpool and wolverine #hugh jackman

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angelicsoka · 6 months ago

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THE HAT RULE, t. owens

word count | 1.7k words

pairings | tyler owens x meteorologist!fem!reader

summary | where tyler owens decides to show the reader what the hat rule is.

warnings | MINORS DNI!! 18+ ONLY!! HEAVY smut! reader doesn’t know the hat rule. not proofread. lowercase intended.

a/n | first of all, sorry for disappearing, i've had NO motivation to write on here, but i saw twisters yesterday and seeing glen powell in a cowboy hat changed me as a person, and also gave me motivation to write. i’ve never written a full smut so i apologize if this sucks, i've stepped out of my comfort zone for this one.

the first time you had ever encountered a tornado was a memory you were sure to never forget. growing up in new york meant rain and snow but no tornadoes. so when traveling to nebraska on a field trip in high school, you were unprepared when the sirens sounded, sending everyone into a frenzy. you had watched as the rain pelted from the sky, a funnel forming up above. you were mesmerized as your teacher pulled you to safety, a sort of thrill tearing through your body. from that moment on, you knew what you wanted to do. you went to college for meteorology, graduating near top of your class before going onto to work at a local news station. but it never quite settled the feeling that something was missing, until you stumbled across tyler owens’ youtube channel.

tyler owens had become a sensation, a daredevil who did more than just chase the storms, he rode into them. and that seemed to heighten that need of a thrill. so, you hit him up and to your surprise, he replied. and what had started out as a week off of work to storm chase with the daredevil, turned to going part time at your job and joining him on the road.

that was a season ago, and now you were sat at a dingy bar, sipping a beer with tyler and the team. the man himself was sat on the stool next to you, nursing his own beer and listening to lily speak. you ignored the slight butterflies that entered your stomach as he laughed. you had learned to never mix work and love, but something about tyler had you questioning that lesson. he looked mighty fine in his blue jeans and button up, supporting a cowboy’s hat on his head. you noticed your beer was gone, standing up you turned to your crew.

“i'm gonna get another beer, can i get anyone anything?” no’s were murmured around the group except for one.

“i could use another, how ‘bout i come with ya?” you shrugged, tyler getting up to walk with you. lily let out a low whistle, stopping at your glare.

“be my guest.” you two walked over to the bar top, signaling the busy bartender. “can we get two more, when you get a sec?” the bartender nodded, going to make a few drinks before he could grab their bottles.

“so, miss city girl, how you likin’ riding with us? ready to go back to the big apple yet?” tyler questioned, turning to look down at you slightly. damn the height difference.

“don’t think you’re getting rid of me that quick, i have a lot more storm chasing left in me, cowboy.” you winked, tyler laughing. you debated for just a moment before reaching up and taking the cowboy hat from his head.

“the hell you think you’re doing?” tyler questioned as you placed the hat on your own head, admiring your reflection on your phone.

“you wear this hat all the damn time, i just wanted to see if there was something special about it? maybe it has some magical powers or something.” the bartender came back around, beer bottles in hand. you thanked him, handing him some cash before turning back to tyler, who had an odd look in his eye. you quickly took off the hat, worried you had pissed him. you went to hand it back to him, when tyler shook his head:

“keep it on, it suits you.” tyler picked up his beer, beginning back to the table. the comment caused a light blush to dust your cheeks. shaking your head, you hoped it didn't show too much as you followed him back. you sat in your seat, confused by the odd looks you received from the crew. nobody said anything about the hat as the night went on, but that didn’t stop the odd looks.

by last call, it was you and tyler left of the crew. thankfully the bar was across the street from the motel, tyler paying the tab much to your protest, before setting off back to the motel. you had forgotten you still wore tyler’s hat upon your head, only remembering when you went to brush your hair from your eyes, your hand bumping the rim. “hey, do you know why everyone kept giving me weird looks after i put your hat on? and why boone and dani wouldn’t stop snickering?” tyler looked over to you as you climbed the stairs of the motel.

“you don't know?” you shook your head in response, tyler holding a bewildered look. “you don't know the hat rule?”

“there’s a hat rule?” tyler stopped at his door, which neighbors your’s and lily’s. “what?”

“you wear the hat, you ride the cowboy.” he deadpanned, your eyes widening and a heavy blush coating your cheeks.

“oh my god! i promise i wasn’t trying to imply that or anything. not there’s anything wrong with you, because you’re– well you’re you, and–” you fumbled over your words, stopping mid sentence when tyler laughed.

“hey, it's fine. if you weren’t trying to insinuate that, that’s fine. but if you were, well, now's your chance. and i’d be more than happy to show you how that rule works.” tyler walked closer, a minimal amount of space between you, just enough to allow you to choose whether you close that gap or leave.

you stood there for a moment, stunned at his offer. and without much thought, you closed the gap, hands going to grip his face and pull him closer to you. his hands moved to your hips, fingers digging into the fabric of your shorts. the kiss was feverish, all unspoken feelings surfacing. tyler began to pull away much to your dismay, one hand leaving your hip to fish out his keys from his pocket as he moved his other arm to hold your waist. he unlocked the door with ease, pulling you inside and shutting the door before pushing you up against it, the hat falling as he did so. he went to town on your neck, enticing soft moans and whimpers from your lips. the way he sucked at your neck and how he had previously handled you had conjured up a pool of wetness in your panties.

your arm wrapped around his neck, holding him to your throat, as your fingers tugged at his hair. he groaned against your skin, biting down ever so softly when you tugged on his hair. he gripped at your leg, pulling it up to give him better access to your cunt. he rubbed his clothed cock along you covered cunt, pleased with the moans that escaped your mouth.

“god, keep moaning like that and i might have to take you right here.” you blushed once more, pulling tyler to meet your lips once more. you pushed off the door, lips still connected to tyler’s as you blindly pushed him back to the bed. his legs hit the edge of the bed, tyler breaking the kiss as he pulled off your shirt, both of you kicking off your shoes and socks before lips were reattached once more.

you pulled back, tyler unbutton his shirt as you began to work on his belt buckle. “woah, easy, pretty girl. you’ll get a taste, don’t worry. the night’s still young. but for now, i gotta show ya what happens when ya wear the hat.” tyler pulled off his shirt, walking to pick up the forgotten hat, placing it on your head. “this stays on.” you nodded, eyes hooded as tyler pulled your shorts and panties down. “you’re even more perfect than i had imagined.” before you could question him, tyler pulled his jeans off, his boxers next as his cock sprung up. tossing them to the side tyler pulled you onto his lap as he sat on the edge of the bed, “you sure ‘bout this? i don’t have any condoms.” tyler asked, different from how he just was. you nodded, kissing him softly.

“i’m on the pill, and i trust you.” tyler nodded, holding over his cock as he slowly guided it along your pussy. you held yourself up as tyler’s thumb rubbing your clit, enjoying your whimpers. “please, tyler.” you begged, tyler aligning his cock with your entrance before guiding you down. you hand went your hat as your head rested on tyler’s shoulder, almost pornographic moans escaping from your lips. “oh my god.” he slowly eased himself into you, whispering praises as he did so.

“god, feels like you were made for me.” your cunt hugged his cock beautifully. when his cock was fully in, he allowed you to get used to the stretch, “tell me when you're ready.” you stilled for a moment, adjusting to his size. you kissed and sucked on his neck, slowly beginning to rock your hips. “fuck, let’s get this off of ya.” tyler’s hands skillfully unclipped your bra, tossing it to the side, fingers ghosting over your perky nipples. you pulled off his shoulder, giving him better access to your tits. “you’re fuckin’ beautiful, darlin’.” tyler attached his mouth to one of your nipples, enticing a soft moan. you continued to ride him, hips moving faster as you chased your incoming orgasm. your left hand gripped tyler’s shoulder, fingernails digging into his bare skin as your right hand held onto the hat that adorned your head.

as your orgasm inched closer and closer, your movements became more erratic, chasing your high. tyler moaned, whispering praises as your walls clenched around his cock. he knew you were close, mouth moving to your pulse point as he pounded into you, taking over. tyler clapped a hand over your mouth as your orgasm hit, muffling your screams so you didn't wake up your neighbors. his movements however did not slow as he worked you through your orgasm, chasing his own high. your legs trembled as he continued to pound into you, your second orgasm of the night approaching quickly. “fuck! fuck, ty-” you cut yourself off, body shaking as you hit your climax once more. tyler began to huff and moan, pulling you impossibly closer as he reached his own high. you blubbered, unable to form actual words as tyler’s hands roamed your body. you pulled back, kissing him roughly.

“goddamn,” he helped you off his cock, helping guide you onto the bed, “think you’ll be able to handle a round two?”

“don’t go thinking you can get rid of me that easily.”

#angelicsoka #tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens smut #twisters #glen powell x reader #glen powell smut #imagine #glen powell imagine #tyler owens imagine

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rafesweetie · 2 months ago

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⋆˚࿔ espresso ꥟ ˚⋆ — sunny!reader x rafe

“ walked in and dream-came-trued for ya! “

i believe the saying goes, “she was like a shot of espresso.” rafe didn’t think that saying could fit a person more than it could fit you.

he’d see you at parties, dancing with his sister or giggling with the pogues. you never could seem to pick a side. this whole pogue vs kook rivalry never crossed your mind, for you were simply friends with everyone in kildare. he’d see you at the beach with your friends, tanning while listening to silly pop music and sipping on a fruity canned drink. you reminded him of the sun.

there was one night where sarah cameron invited you to her place for a start-of-summer party. rafe was dealing some coke, as per usual, and his eyes followed you as you walked in, holding hands with sarah while she led you inside. he’d never understood why girls held hands with each other, but wheezie said that it’s a universal girl thing, and he ‘would never get it.’

topper elbowed rafe out of his trance, laughing about how rafe had a little crush.

“nah, nah,” rafe denied instantly. “isn’t she a pogue?”

topper shakes his head. “nope. she just hangs out with them. her parents own that flashy smoothie shop, she’s a kook,”

“…oh, that’s good,” rafe mutters. he can’t quite avert his gaze from you.

“aw man, you’re desperate,” kelce is on his other side, patting his back, making rafe grunt and shoo him off. rafe can’t relate to desperation.

his night goes on per usual, getting bundles of cash handed to him as he deals. until topper speaks up after a bit. “she just broke up with pope,” he informs rafe. “she’s on the market,”

“yeah?” rafe checks.

“yeah. you should go talk to her,”

rafe hesitates, staring at you again. you’re not a dancer by any means, but both you and sarah are wiggling your shoulders a bit when a good song comes up. rafe would assume you’re drunk, the way your giggles echo through the room and the way you spill your drink when you stumble into sarah. but he thinks that’s just you, drunk on life. he eventually speaks. “no fucking way, she’s with my sister right now. sarah would lose her shit if i talked to little miss sunshine over there,”

“yeah, well, need i remind you i’m dating sarah, so i’ll just get her away, go make out for a bit, she looks drunk,” topper offers.

“…a’ight. yeah, lets do it bro.” rafe agrees, and they both get up off the couch. rafe stands a little bit away as he grabs another vodka pink lemonade for you, maybe a subtle bribe into talking, and a beer for himself. topper talks to sarah for a bit, greets you, then leads sarah away.

rafe’s literally directly behind you, when suddenly you’re already talking to someone else. you’re pretty chatty, it seems. rafe hangs around to catch you after your next conversation. but then he looks away for one second, then you’re gone again. he spots you on the balcony, with jj maybank. then a couple minutes later, you’re with kie carrera. then you’re shotgunning a drink with sofia. holy shit. you’ve got him wrapped around your finger already, and he looks so cute chasing after you. if he’s not pushy, he’ll never get his chance. so, channeling his inner ward cameron, he spots you with ruthie (who he never would’ve assumed you would associate with. maybe you’re just being polite), and he puts a hand on your shoulder from behind, spinning you around. “y/n. right?”

you blink, not expecting the sudden interruption. but you regain yourself quickly, smiling. “hi! yeah, i am,” you say. your voice sounds as sweet as honey. “you’re rafe cameron?”

you know who he is? he shouldn’t be surprised, you seem to know everyone, but he likes that you know, anyway. “uh, yeah, yeah, that’s me,”

“well it’s so nice to meet you,” you smile up at him. “it’s funny, sofia used to mention you a lot, and obviously im close friends with your sister. but i’ve never met you before,”

“..you’re friends with sofia?” is all he can think to ask.

“mhm. i’ve known her since grade 5. we’re not like, super close now, but we were when you guys dated,” sensing his sudden aversion to talking about her, his ex girlfriend, you shut up. “um, wanna go grab a drink?”

“oh— shit, yeah, um, brought one for you, actually,” he hands you the vodka pink lemonade. “saw you drinking one earlier, so..”

“oh my gosh, thank you so much,” you say. is he that sweet? you guess so.

“yeah, ‘course. heard sarah talk about you, and it’s all been good things, so i figured i’d try and meet you myself,”

“well now you have. i’ve heard her talk about you too,” you don’t have the heart to say it hasn’t been very good things.

it feels like this awkward small talk is going in circles. but maybe that’s a good, slow way to start something.

your name is suddenly called by a group of girls a couple meters away. “it was so nice to meet you rafe. i should go, they want me,” you say softly, reaching for his hands. he remembers when you came in holding sarah’s hands. it seems to be your thing. “i’ll see you around?”

“yeah—“ he clears his throat, gaining the courage to hold yours back. “yeah. see you around, y/n,”

you smile. you could swear he’s blushing. “you’re cute,” you say softly, squeezing his hands once more before retreating away.

he feels like he just took a shot of espresso, and now he’ll be thinking of you every night.

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skeltnwrites · 6 months ago

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Bad Cop - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: You wake to a call from your boyfriend Eddie who asks you to bail him out of jail.

Word Count: 2.2k

TW: interactions with police, mild injury, talk of fighting and bullying, sexual innuendos

A/N: I might be a little late to the Eddie Munson party but I’m here now! :D

“This is a collect call from Edward Munson at Hawkins Police Station. Will you accept the charges?”

You clear your throat but your voice still feels raw when you speak, “Yes.”

“Please hold,” the operator says.

A trilling sound as you wait, twirling the phone cord anxiously. You’d been tucked in bed a minute ago, dead to the world. The phone rang loud enough from the kitchen to startle you awake. You caught the time on the alarm clock on the nightstand as you kicked the blankets off, just after one in the morning.

“Y/N?” His voice is soft under the crackle.

“Edward.” It’s not angry per se but you never use his real name which is telling.

“Please don’t be mad.”

“Are you okay?” you sigh, tipping your head till your forehead meets the wallpaper.

“I’m sorry— I’m fine. I just, can you bail me out please.”

“What happened, Eds?”

“Just a stupid fight. Nothing serious, I promise.” He pleads like you won’t believe him and doesn’t give you a chance to press for details, “There’s cash in a shoebox on the top shelf of the closet. On my side, all the way in the back.”

You want to scold him but you're still kneading sleep from your face, irritated now that you know he’s okay. You bite your cheek, considering the possibility of an argument. Knowing that it shouldn’t take place through a phone.

“You’re sure? It’s enough?”

“Swear.”

“Okay, on my way.”

He apologizes again before the line clicks.

You shuffle through the band tees he’s grown out of and have since been neglected to the back of your shared closet. You make a mental note to remind him to drop some off at Goodwill. Under a stack of vinyls, you locate the box with a rolled wad of twenties held together by a rubber band. You snap the band, biting your lip. It’s enough to buy something expensive, really expensive. You jam your heel into a laced sneaker and do not bother to change out of your pajamas. The money is pushed deep into your pocket along with the house keys. You shake away arising questions as you start the van.

Cold air smacks your bare arms as you push open the station door. You blink rapidly at the fluorescents. An officer hands you a clipboard, you sign two dotted lines, and fork over most of the cash. He retreats to a separate room without a word, presumably to retrieve your boyfriend, leaving you alone in the lobby.

Your arms pillow your head on the counter until a familiar set of steps rounds the corner. His eyes, big and sorry, find yours instantly. But your attention quickly shifts to the marbled purple and blue highlighting the arch of his cheek. The stern speech about bar fights and bail payments you’d rehearsed on the way flees your throat. He brushes past the counter to hug you and you spot a split lip too. Your shoulders deflate as you meet him halfway.

“Thank you,” Eddie mumbles into your crown.

You give his waist a quick squeeze before pulling back. His hands chase the goosebumps from your skin as you scan his face. His curls are frizzy which is typical but more disheveled like he’s been running his hands through them. Your nail traces his lower lip where it was clearly cracked open but is now glazed over with a layer of dry blood. “Lose any teeth?”

He smiles, pearls still intact, and you can’t bring yourself to be mad. His breath smells faintly of alcohol as he says, “You look tired.”

“I am so tired,” you admit.

He grits his teeth guiltily, “I’ll make it up to you.”

An officer clears his throat and passes Eddie a brown paper bag with ‘Munson’ scribbled on the front. He snatches the bag with a wink. The man offers nothing but a blank stare, maybe mild disapproval as Eddie pivots and jogs toward you, already at the door. He fishes for his lighter from the bag, kissing and pocketing it as you step outside.

“Can I drive?” Eddie reaches for the keys in your hand. You always let him drive.

You snatch the carabiner to your chest, elbowing his side, “Are you trying to get a DUI too?”

“I had one beer,” he scoffs as you unlock the door.

You believe him but pretend not to as you hop in the driver's seat. “You’re a criminal now. Can’t be trusted!” You yell playfully before slamming the door as he jogs around the hood.

“Very funny,” he mutters as he climbs in.

You sling your arm over his seat to back out. The streetlight accentuates the bruise when you glance past him.

“Does it hurt?”

“Hmm?”

You point at your own cheek.

“Oh, no. It’s fine. Should’ve seen the other guy,” he chuckles.

“We’ll ice it when we get home,” you pull out onto the main road before settling your gaze back on him. “So who was the other guy?”

His eyes roll in your peripherals, “So Shelly Watkins was there—“

“You hit Shelly Watkins?”

“Jesus! No! Her stupid boyfriend Rob Perry.” He groans in disgust. “You remember him? He was such a dick in high school!”

You shake your head, trying to recall.

“He’s a couple of years older I think. Well anyway, Shelly was blabbing her big mouth, as usual, about Robin and her new girlfriend.”

“What was she saying?” You interrupt, curious but inferring already.

“Nasty shit. And she’s talking so loud the whole bar can probably hear. I mean, I couldn’t not say anything, babe. And hey,” he throws his hands up in surrender, “All I said was ‘Seems like what other people do in their spare time isn’t your business.’”

You smirk, knowing it was not as polite as he made it out to be.

“And Rob is all ‘What did you say?’” Eddie teasingly lowers his voice, foot hiked up in his seat to face you with a finger curled under his nose like a mustache.

You steal glances from the road to watch the theatrics as he retells the story, making sure to emphasize when he punched Rob square in the nose so hard it broke.

“Did you win?” You ask, attempting to hide your proud grin by checking your blind spot.

“Oh yeah.” Eddie crosses his arms, accidentally nicking the wound on his lip with his nail as he retracts the faux finger stache. He winces, tapping the cut to assess the damage. Fresh blood coats his finger; he’s quick to press his whole hand over his mouth as he fumbles through the glovebox with the other. A deck of fast food napkins you’d organized spills out. You catch one before it falls, crumpling it into his free hand and swerving back into your lane. He replaces his hand with the thin sheet, wiping his fingers on another napkin off the floor as you pull up to a stoplight.

He tips his head like a puppy when he catches you staring. You lick your thumb, smearing a stray drop crawling down his chin. Your palm lingers on his skin, rubbing circles behind his ear as the light flicks green.

It’s not long before you pull into the driveway and unlock the front door. Eddie holds a third napkin to his face. You consider going to the ER for stitches as you toss the keys on the counter and snatch a Ziploc bag from the cabinet.

Two lines of light form a skewed L in the hall from the cracked bathroom door; A silent message that you are allowed to come in. It squeaks familiarly loud on its hinges but Eddie doesn't acknowledge you.

He focuses on his reflection as he peels the napkin away hesitantly. The blood has stopped but his lip looks swollen and angry. You hook a finger through his belt loop, tugging him until he turns. You nudge the bag of ice to his cheek and he flinches grasping your hand to pull it away.

“‘s cold.”

You tug the hand towel off the sink and wrap the plastic, pushing it back to his cheek. You hold it there caressing his lash line with your pointer. He leans into the touch, rubbing his eyes with ringed fingers. Eddie pulls the thick silver off one by one, setting them on the counter.

“Sit,” you tell him.

He perches on the edge of the toilet lid obediently. You pick a washcloth from the drawer and run it under the sink. He parts his knees as you approach him, hands snapping into place at your hips. You cup his chin, pushing up until he tilts it toward you. Cool water cleans his lips where you brush. He doesn’t flinch, even when you accidentally dig too hard. You progress down to his jaw, where blood is smeared dry, and flaky.

“Think I’ll have a cool scar?” His breath fans your chin as you work cautiously.

“No,” you say. He toys with the strings on your pants, happy to be taken care of. “But you don’t need it. You’re cool already.”

The corners of his mouth lift fondly. He fights the urge to smile, hoping you’ll work longer if he sits still. You swipe in slow strokes, also secretly loving the time and touch.

You give his face a once over before tossing the rag to the counter. He searches your expression for a diagnosis. But words are slow to find your mouth, too enraptured with the long lashes that bat his cheeks sweetly. “I love how eager you are to stick up for the people you love,” you start.

“But?”

“But, we can’t afford you getting arrested over something like this.”

“I know,” he groans and headbutts you gently in the stomach. His hands cup the backs of your thighs and his hair drapes around his face like a curtain. You comb a handful of it over his neck and he tilts his head so you can see his eyes. “I don’t regret what I did, though. He’s always been such a bully. He deserved it, you know?” He sighs, gaze drifting away, “I felt like I could finally stand up to him after all these years.”

Your fingers trail down his shoulder to smooth out the tee riding up his back. “I don’t doubt that he deserved it. I know you just want to do the right thing. But still, he can probably afford it, we can’t.” You hesitate to ask, “Where did you get that money anyway?”

He hugs your middle, muttering into your belly, “Been saving.”

“For what?”

He shrugs and says what you believe to be, “Something special.” You are curious but lean on your trust rather than insecurity. He most likely intended to surprise you with something if you didn’t know.

“Sorry, you had to spend it.”

“Not your fault.” He peers up at you as if to ensure you know that and you brush his bangs back.

“Still, sorry.”

He blinks slowly up at you like a cat waiting for more pets. Then, he shoots up, back stiff, eyes wide. “You have work tomorrow,” he realizes out loud.

“Oh, you didn’t hear?” you pull his arm until he stands. “I actually have come down with a real nasty cold,” you force a cough into your fist.

“Oh yeah?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah, not only that but there's this criminal that won’t leave me alone. Think I might have to file a report at the station tomorrow.”

He laughs, flicking the light off as he follows you to the bedroom. The ice pack is left to melt in the sink and the stained washcloth to dry on the counter, a mess for tomorrow you’ve decided. You’re quick to crawl under the covers and he’s even quicker to shed his clothes and join you.

Eddie pecks the sliver of collarbone poking out of your shirt, making his way up in a dotted line. He presses gently to your lips, and you break away mindfully, aiming for the corner instead.

“You know?” Your eyes are closed but you feel his stare.

You hum.

“I think it’s kinda sexy when you call me a criminal.”

“Oh my God!” You throw an arm over your burning cheeks, “You are so horny.”

He laughs into your wrist but moves it aside to cradle your cheeks firmly. He pulls one eyelid open gently with his thumb when you refuse to engage. You release the smile you’ve been keeping. He mirrors it, teeth bright in the moonlight spilling in. “Think about it, I already have handcuffs so you can play bad cop and—“

You grope for a pillow to push into his face and then another when he chucks it off the bed, giggles overlapping.

“I’m going to call the police on you, have them arrest you again. Take you to horny jail.”

“Now you get it,” he releases his grip on your wrists to sit back on his heels and in a voice that is not his own he fawns, “Oh, officer! I promise to be a good boy from now on!”

You roll over, groaning wildly into your pillow. “Go to bed!”

He settles behind you, his heart races where it's thumping against your back. Yours isn’t far off. A final kiss is planted on your nape where he tickles you with his hair as he wishes you a good night.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things fic #joeseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #stranger things

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cllightning81 · 5 days ago

Text

Old Married Couple [CL16]

Summary : Working in your old job for some extra cash brings up a familiar face that you didn't expect to see.

Pairing/s: Charles Leclerc x Schumacher!Reader

Word Count : 5.7k (this was going to be short but I got carried away)

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When you were asked to cover a shift at the little cafe where you used to work, who would you say no to? The owner and her daughter had become a third family to you, followed behind your actual family and childhood best friend family.

Turning around as the door opened, you didn’t expect to be confronted with said childhood best friend. You two still spoke all the time; it was like nothing had ever changed except it had. A lot had changed. He was chasing his dreams worldwide; your older brother had started pursuing his dreams, and your dad's. He’d gotten poorly injured.

“Y/N?” He asked, drawing you from your thoughts as you rounded the corner, almost running into his arms with a smile on your face

“You weren’t meant to be in Monaco” He frowned, and you shrugged a little

“It got a little suffocating back home, so I decided to come back here”, you replied, wrapping your arms around him

“And got a job here again, ice cream girl?” He teased as you pushed him away

“They asked if I wanted extra cash as some people are ill. There’s a sickness bug going around. I would have popped in to say hello when I returned, but I thought you were in Italy!” You exclaimed, walking back behind the counter

“I was in Italy. I just got back and decided I wanted a coffee, so here I am” He shrugged, and you turned around, taking a coffee port from the machine and knocking out the previously used grounds from the last coffee you’d made. The young girl you were working with was on her break and poked her head out to ensure it wasn’t too busy. Charles, being the only customer in the shop, you smiled at her, filling the port with ground coffee beans.

“How’s Mick and your family?” Charles asked, and you shrugged

“Mick’s living his dream. Gina’s having a baby girl. Dad’s dad and mum. She’s doing okay,” You replied, turning around to fill the milk jug with some milk

“How’s your family?” You asked, motioning for him to take a seat

“The same as the last time you asked. Which was two days ago?” He chuckled, and you shrugged, steaming the milk to make his latte.

“Something major could have happened”, you replied with a shrug of your shoulders before pouring his now-steamed milk into the cup and taking it over to him.

“Do you want any ice cream? Cake?” You asked, and he shook his head

“Diet says no”, he replied with a slight pout, and you laughed

“So, what are you doing with work now?” He asked, and you sighed

“I don’t know, Cha. I’ve got this brilliant engineering degree, yet no one wants a Schumacher to work for them,” you sighed. It had always been your dream to work in the same racing team as Mick. Yet every time he got hired. You didn’t. It hurt; of course, it did, but you wouldn’t tell Mick that.

“Maybe you’re just looking in the wrong places”, Charles offered, and you shrugged.

“I’ve tried non-racing teams as well” You sighed, looking around before taking the seat opposite him.

“Mon ami. Have you tried Ferrari?” He asked. You looked at him, shaking your head. You didn’t want to be compared.

“With Carlos leaving, some team members are leaving to join him. Lewis isn’t bringing many mechanics or engineers. Just a couple” He shrugged as the young girl walked out.

“Y/N? I’m done with my break. You can take yours.” She smiled while walking behind the counter as she fixed her apron.

“Thank you, Julie.” You smiled, getting up and squeezing Charles’s hand on the table. Walking into the small back of the shop, you removed your apron and grabbed your phone before walking to the front of the shop.

“Want to take a walk with me?” You asked Charles, who was happy enough to get up to pay for his coffee

“Yeah. You know I like walks” You smiled.

“Julie, don't charge him. I’m just going to get my lunch” You smiled as she nodded.

“Enjoy”, you hummed, walking out of the shop next to Charles

“How long until your shift ends?” He asked, and you looked at the clock

“I’m having lunch late, so it's only an hour. They managed to find someone to come in early but couldn’t get someone in the morning,” You responded as you fell into pace next to him, walking to the bakery just along the street

“I know maman would love to see you if you wanted to catch up in person together” " he offered, and you smiled, turning your head to look at that

“I’d love that” You smiled as you entered the bakery. The scent of fresh bread fills the air, and the freshly baked cakes and pastries fill the glass cabinets in front of you, their glass shining, obviously just newly cleaned.

You placed your order with the lovely woman behind the counter as you pulled some cash out of your pocket; however, Charles’ F1 reflexes bet you to pay

“Cha. I can pay for my lunch” You turned to him, and he shrugged

“You wouldn’t let me pay for my coffee” He replied

“I don’t like coffee, so you got my free on-shift coffee”, you replied with a hum, thanking the woman for your order before walking out of the shop

“Well, maybe I’m just trying to convince you to reconsider joining Ferrari. Imagine it. Me, you, travelling the world together just like you had planned. You, Max, travelling the world just like both your fathers had planned” You couldn’t help but laugh a little

“Yeah, Red Bull didn’t want a Schumacher. Horner’s word, not mine” You huffed, and he frowned, stopping in his tracks

“Oh, wait until I tell Max”, he muttered, and you shook your head

“Max knows. He wasn’t happy, but he got me the interview,” You replied

“You still speak to Max?” He asked. Something flashed across his face that you couldn’t quite understand or see for long enough

“Yeah, occasionally. He texted to check in on me and my dad, and when I mentioned I was still looking for a job, he offered to get me an interview,” you replied. Ever since your previous company went bankrupt, you have found it impossible to find a permanent job.

“He never mentioned it”, Charles frowned, holding open the cafe door for you. Smiling at Julie, you walk over to the table and sit beside Charles again.

“So, tell me about your life,” You replied, wanting to take the topic off yourself.

“The season went pretty well. I’m excited about a change of scenery with teammates; however, I will miss having Carlos as my teammate. Something just tells me I won’t have that kind of relationship with Hamilton,” He replied, and you nodded along, eating your food.

“Mercedes kind of didn’t make him do media for social media, so I have a feeling I’ll be doing those alone. Which isn’t the worst, but I enjoyed being competitive with Carlos,” He added as you tilted your head a little

“Yeah, those C-squared videos were quite good” " you replied with a smile, and he nodded.

“Who would you put in his seat if you had the choice?” You asked him, and he tilted his head a little, thinking about it as he sipped the coffee that Julie had brought

“Arthur, probably. All drivers work hard to get to Formula One, but I’ve watched Arthur struggle to live in my shadows his whole life. Hell, even Lorenzo lives in my shadows, and he’s older. So, probably Arthur or maybe Ollie. I quite like that kid” He nodded, and you couldn’t help but laugh a little

“You’ve adopted another driver” " you replied, and he frowned, looking up at you.

“What? Non!” He exclaimed, and you nodded

“I know that I avoid your invites to the paddock, but I’m not blind or deaf. The way you talk about Ollie and the way you’re always there for him. He’s your grid kid!” You exclaimed with a broad smile as Charles shook his head, attempting to deny it

“I’ve already got Oscar!” He exclaimed, and you shrugged

“You can have multiple kids”, you laughed, getting up to put your rubbish into the bin. Charles shook his head, saying it as you fixed something on the shelf that caught your eyes. You pulled your apron on before helping Julie with the coffee order that had just come in.

Over the next hour, the shop was pretty quiet, which gave you time to catch up with Charles on the stuff you hadn’t said over text because it either just didn’t feel right or you didn’t want to say it on text.

You said bye to the two staff members you’d met today before walking out with Charles. The silence was nice and comfortable as you walked through the streets of Monte Carlo to his maman’s hair salon.

Pascale had always welcomed you into the Leclerc family, even going as far as joking that you’d probably marry one of her sons in the future. You couldn’t help but notice how well the Leclerc genes hit Arthur and Charles in just the right places.

Eventually, Charles was the first one to speak up.

“If I could get you an interview at Ferrari, would you at least attend the interview?” He asked. You couldn’t help but sigh a little, quickly glancing at him. He was never going to give it up. Charles never gave up.

“I’ll do the interview, but only because I know you won’t stop until I do it”, you replied, and Charles smiled, wrapping you in a hug.

“Thank you!” He cheered before you continued walking with a laugh. You were soon on the same street as his maman’s hair salon, and he opened the door, allowing you to walk in first. Pascale looked up from her diary, standing up as quickly as Charles’ reflexes as she rounded the table.

“Oh, Y/N, look at you!” Her arms wrapped around you, pulling you into her arms before pulling back her hands resting on your face

“Après-midi Pascale” (Afternoon) You smiled, hugging her back. When you finally pulled away, Pascale moved past you to hug her son.

“Après-midi maman” (Afternoon) Charles smiled, kissing her cheek before ushering you to sit down.

“J'ai trouvé celui-ci dans son ancien café” (I found this one in her old cafe). Charles turned to Pascale, who raised an eyebrow before starting her conversation in French with Charles. While you could understand basic French while it was slow, it wasn’t a primary language, and they were talking too fast.

“Oh, I can’t believe you’re back here. You should have texted you could have stayed over. You’re getting too skinny,” Pascale fussed, and you smiled. You weren’t home in Germany often, so saying you didn’t enjoy her fussing would be a lie.

“I’m okay, Pascale” You smiled, holding her hand.

“Oh, you should join us for dinner tonight. The boys are coming over” She smiled, and you smiled up at her.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude, Pascale. It’s your weekly dinner” You frowned

“Nonsense. Charles talked her into it.” She walked away to speak to the client who had just walked in, and Charles laughed, sitting beside her.

“She’s as persistent as I am” He shrugged with a smile, pulling you into a hug. You couldn’t help but rest your head on his chest just like you used to when you were a teenager.

“Fine. I missed your maman’s cooking anyway. Takeaways aren’t hitting the spot anymore, and I’m losing money buying them,” You replied with a huff, and Charles laughed. His chest vibrated as he did.

“You know, if you were to dive into your savings accounts, you wouldn’t be losing money”, he replied with a shrug as you pulled away offended. Your hand on your chest

“Charles Leclerc! How dare you suggest I touch my savings? Those are for emergencies!” You exclaimed, and he laughed

“Get an interview with Ferrari, and you would never need to touch those savings”, he replied with a smirk as you rolled your eyes.

“I’ve already told you I’ll do the interview. What more do you want?” You asked, tilting your head as you glanced over at Pasclae, who was talking with a customer

“For you to join us at dinner. I know Arthur and Enzo would love to see you. Arthurs bringing his new girlfriend and Enzo bringing Charlotte,” He replied

“I’ve already said I’d do that as well. However, your maman is going to have me at every dinner now,” You replied, and he chuckled, pulling you back into his arms.

“Wouldn’t be the worst decision she’d ever made.” He smiled, and you rested your head against his chest.

Later that night, you were walking up to the Leclerc family home. It had been a while since you were last inside; however, you’d run past it almost every day on your run because it was the neighbourhood that you knew, like the back of your hand.

You were just about to knock on the door when the door was abruptly pulled open by none other than Arthur Leclerc, who, as usual, wasn’t watching what he was doing. Before you realised the door had opened, your hand hit his face. You both gasped at the same time.

“Scheiße! Arthur! Entschuldigung! Warum versteckst du dich hinter der Tür?” You panicked as Arthur's hand flew to his eye where you had just accidentally punched him. (Shit! Arthur! Sorry! Why are you hiding behind the door?) Charles came running out at the sound of your panicked German and almost doubled over in laughter

“Putain!” Arthur exclaimed

“Maman, Enzo. Arthur a encore récidivé!” (Mum, Enzo. Arthur did it again!) Charles called into the house as Pascale rushed out of the kitchen, ready to fuss over her boy and give a telling-off to whoever punched him; however, when she saw you, she turned to Arthur with a disapproving look. Lorenzo slowly followed behind, clearly unfazed.

“Quel garçon idiot. Je vous ai dit d'arrêter d'ouvrir la porte car les invités sont sur le point de frapper. Va mettre de la glace sur tes yeux.” She complained to Arthur. As Arthur retreated back into the house like a dog with its tail between his legs.

“Garçon idiot et idiot" " she muttered to no one in particular as Charles looked at Enzo before they both started laughing again (What a silly boy. I told you to stop pulling the door open as guests are about to knock. Go put some ice on your eye. Silly silly boy)

“Désolé Pascale”, You whispered, looking at the older woman who turned to look at you with a soft look (Sorry)

“That was Arthur’s fault. He thinks it’s funny. He’s learned his lesson this time. Now, why you were going to knock in the first place is beyond me” She shook her head disapprovingly, and you quickly came up with an excuse.

“I was just going to use it to announce my presence. In case you were talking about me,” You joked, and Pascale laughed, ushering you into the house. Charles pulled you into his arms, kissing your cheeks before Lorenzo did the same thing.

“It’s good to see you, Y/N” He smiled before walking back into the house to his fiance as you looked at Charles, who started laughing again.

“Oh, your face” He laughed as you shook your head, pushing him out of the way.

“Enfant préféré” (Favourite Child), Arthur muttered as he walked past you and Charles. You both looked at each other before laughing again. Pascale had a soft spot for you, and if that weren’t shown in her reaction to that incident, you wouldn’t know what would show it.

Arthur’s new girlfriend walked out of the living room to see what was happening and possibly what her boyfriend was complaining about. You smiled over as Charles took his time to speak up.

“Ah, Jade. This is Y/N. She’s one of my best friends. Well, I think maman adopted her when we were about nine” He shrugged, and you waved in her direction.

“Nice to meet you” You smiled.

“You too. What’s ‘Thur shouting about?” She asked as Charles started laughing all over again. For something so simple, he was easily amused.

“Oh, I went to knock on the door, and he pulled it open with his head right where I was about to knock”, Jade giggled to herself as she nodded.

“I’ll go find him” " she giggled, walking into the depths of the house as you followed Charles into the living room. Pascale still had all her favourite photos decorating the house, with a few extra ones added. The one that took pride in the middle of the mantle piece? One of you and Charles smiling at each other on the couch as Arthur slept over both of your legs. You stopped and looked at for a moment before Charles turned to look at you.

“He hates that picture. Maman loves it. She says it shows our siblingly bond.” He chuckled, resting his arm around your shoulder and talking you through the newer pictures that had been added.

Within the hour of being at the Leclerc household, it was like you had never left it in the first place. Like you’d been at every family dinner since you went to University and left Monaco to join your family back in Germany.

Despite the incident with her boyfriend, you and Jade seemed to be getting along well, even if Arthur was still annoyed at the whole incident. Mama Leclerc wasn’t about to let you take the blame for that.

Your head rested on your hand as you spoke to Charles after almost begging Pascale to let you help her with desserts; however, she refused each time.

“You should come out with me tomorrow night”, Charles declared as you tilted your head, waiting for more information about this night out. However, he didn’t continue, causing you to roll your eyes slightly.

“More information, Leclerc” " you prodded, and he hummed before nodding

“Right, yeah. Some of the grid is going out tomorrow night just to the restaurant, but we wanted to get to know the rookies because some of them have just been thrown in at the deep end, like Ollie,” He finally continued as you nodded along with his words before sitting up straight

“Does that mean I get to meet your sons?” You asked with a large smile, and he nodded slightly

“Yeah, I guess so” You smiled, clapping your hands a little

“I’ll be there then” You hummed.

Later that night, you were still in the Leclerc household, cuddled into Charles’ side as you watched a movie.

That next night, you weren’t expecting Charles to pick you up in his Ferrari; however, you walked outside the hotel room you were renting for the moment, meeting him at the front. He’d said the dress code was casual, but as always, you felt underdressed next to the Ferrari driver.

“You ready?” The Ferrari driver smiled, and you nodded, checking everything in your bag: phone, keycard, purse, random bits and bobs.

“I think so” You hummed and nodded while walking out to the car with you. He couldn’t have been the more perfect gentleman, and you were beginning to think he’d tricked you into a date. He opened the car door for you, helped you with your seatbelt, and even helped you out of the car when you arrived.

Walking into the restaurant beside him, you were happy to see the other drivers sitting around the table, including some of the rookies, which there was a lot of this year compared to previous years just past. Charles pulled out a seat for you, allowing you to sit down, and you smiled politely at him.

One seat remained, and you looked around the table, attempting to figure out who would still arrive. Charles leaned over his arm on the back of your chair to steady himself.

“This is a whole plan. George is the last one to arrive, hence how there's a seat left next to Max,” He whispered with a smirk, and you turned to him with a slight laugh.

“So you invited me along for World War Three?” You whispered back, turning your head to him, to which he nodded happily

“I knew you’d want to watch the drama” He chuckled, and you laughed before Charles leaned back a little

“Ollie?” He asked, and the boy, two seats down, turned around to look at you both. The boy you believed couldn’t be old enough to drive in Formula One also turned around. Two for one, you chuckled to yourself.

“Y/N, this is Ollie. Ollie, this is my childhood best friend, Y/N” He introduced you both, and you smiled at the young boy.

“Nice to meet you, Ollie. Charles talks about you a lot” You smiled, pleased you finally got to meet one of his grid kids.

“Oh my god”, Ollie whispered as the other boy sitting next to you just saw with his mouth slightly agape. You couldn’t help but have a little laugh to yourself.

“Oh, and Y/N, this is Kimi. He’s driving for Mercedes this year” He motioned to the other boy, and you smiled.

“Nice to meet you as well, Kimi” Kimi looked like he was gonna faint, and you could hear Charles sniggering behind you.

“You’re like-” Kimi was cut off by a nudge in the ribs from Ollie, who had previously received one from Liam Lawson, who sat beside him.

“Hey, Y/N” He waved down the table, and you waved back, turning to Charles.

“You broke them”, you whispered harshly to him, to which he just shrugged in return, watching as everyone's heads slowly turned as George walked in. You bit your lip, waiting for his reaction to the only seat. To everyone’s surprise, after Max said the seat was available, he picked it up and moved it. Hiding your mouth behind your hand, you quietly laughed, noticing the Haas and Mercedes drivers beside you doing the same thing.

Charles nudged your leg with his foot, and you turned to look at him with a smile, to which he nudged his head in the other direction of the table, which had you turning around to see what he was on about just to see the Red Bull driver attempting to start a conversation with the Mercedes driver.

The disagreement was one-sided as Max attempted to clear the air between them. Still, you could also clearly see that George wasn’t interested in listening to what Max had to say, and on the following media day, George would be starting rumours.

Throughout the night, you got to know the two rookies sitting beside you, and you couldn’t lie. You had taken a liking to them. You now understand why Charles was so supportive and why he was always worried about Oliver. You had a feeling that maybe if you got the job at Ferrari, it wouldn’t be so bad.

Two months later, you’d gone to the job interview with Ferrari mainly for Charles’ sake because you could see that he was getting annoyed with you sleeping in a hotel and not accepting his invitation to stay in his spare bedroom.

Now, here you were, walking into the Bahrain paddock with Charles at your side, laughing about something he’d just done that shouldn’t have been as funny as it was. You’d accepted the job because the thought of sitting at home any longer stressed you out because, to start with, it wasn’t home, and you were getting bored.

You’d grown closer to Charles over the past three months, even joining him and some of your shared friends on a skiing trip meant to help him “train”. You just believed it was a pilot thing because whenever you opened Instagram, there was another F1 pilot skiing or snowboarding somewhere.

“Are you feeling ready?” Charles asked, and you just smiled thinking about it

“Yeah. I think this is where my dad wants me to be. Even if Mickey isn’t in the paddock anymore, it was our dream” Charles pulled you into his side as you walked.

“Michael would want you to be here, and you already know that Mick wants you here” He smiled, and you nodded.

“Yeah, you’re right” You stood up a little taller.

“That’s it, ice cream girl”, He joked, and you pushed him away with a laugh.

“You know I always thought you’d end up with Arthur”, He hummed, and you looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“What?” You asked with a laugh

“It just always looked like you two had a thing for each other. I got slightly jealous at one point,” He confessed, leading you into the hospitality with a hand on the small of your back.

“You’re joking, right?” You asked, and he shook his head. You were about to respond when you were interrupted by Fred. You couldn’t tell your new boss to fuck off for a moment so you could continue this conversation, so you left them alone and went to make acquaintance with some of the other mechanics.

An hour later, you were standing outside the Ferrari garage when Oliver walked by, looking stressed. You frown, pushing yourself off the wall and walking over.

“Ollie”, You called out slightly.

“Oh, Y/N. Hi” He smiled slightly; however, you could see that the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“Is everything okay?” You questioned gently

“My dad was meant to come out for testing, but Thomas has this major competition where he needs a parent to go with him, and you know I’m nineteen. I don’t need a parent,” He informed, and you frowned, opening your arms to take him into your embrace.

“Everyone needs their parents. What about your mum?” You asked, and he shook his head, and you instantly regretted asking

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise,” You rambled, and he shook his head again with a laugh, moving his head from the crook of your neck.

“No, it’s not like that” He giggled a little as you breathed.

“Every time she’s come to a race, it’s like she’s bad luck, so she doesn’t come any more,” He explained, and you nodded in understanding.

“Well, Ferrari might not be exactly happy if I join you in the Haas garage; however, I will be in the Ferrari garage if you need some support. If you need some support regarding the car or driving, Charles will be more than happy to help you if he can,” You assure him, and he nods, pulling out of your arms.

“Thank you. That helped a little,” He mumbles, and you nod

“I might not be your mum or dad, but if you or Kimi need anything, I’ll always be willing to help if I can” You smiled, and he nodded

“Thank you. I’ll tell him because he’s scared of you,” He confessed, and you chuckled

“I’m not scary. I get my surname makes people scared, though” He nodded

“He doesn’t want to say anything wrong even though he’s worked with Mick for years.” He laughed, and you could see that it was a genuine laugh. He wasn’t as stressed as he was when you started this conversation.

“I’m better looking than Mick and Gina, though” You joked, and he laughed. You turned your head as your name was called.

“You know where to find me if you need me.” You smiled while walking over to the group of mechanics who were discussing.

About an hour later, Charles was walking along to hospitality with you, and he bumped your shoulder with his own

“And you talk about me having grid kids. It’s your first day here, and you’ve already got two” He chuckled, and you looked at him.

“What, no, I don’t.” You frowned, and he nudged his head towards Andrea and Oliver, sitting outside the Ferrari hospitality.

“It’s not my fault my motherly instincts kicked in! They’re just kids!” You exclaimed, and he nodded

“I know they are. It’s a brutal world here as well” You sighed with a nod. You’d seen it from your side when Mick was going through it. You never really got to see your dad's race in person, and it’s something you wish you could change, but you can’t change your age.

“I think we need to talk tonight” You started looking up at him as you walked, to which he nodded.

“I think so, too” He nodded with a smile. You separated from him, walking over to the young drivers.

“You two are quite far from your garages and hospitalities”, you joked, and Ollie looked up with a smile.

“Y/N!” He smiled, almost jumping out of his seat from seeing you

“Kimi and I were wondering if you’d be free tomorrow after testing.” You raised an eyebrow while looking between the two rookies.

“It’s not for anything bad!” Kimi adds, looking up at you

“We were joining some of the grid for drinks after testing and were kind of scared”, He whispered, and you nodded.

“Yeah, I’ll be there, but you know there's nothing to fear. Most drivers are lovely, but I can give you insight on who to avoid when there’s alcohol on the go.” You winked while sitting down next to them to give them the gossip.

Later that night, you cuddled Charles in his hotel bed with your head on his shoulder.

“I think we should talk about earlier before Fred interrupted”, you whispered, and he nodded slightly. Shifting so that he could see your face

“Yeah, I think I confessed something I shouldn’t have?” He whispered, and you giggled a little

“Want to repeat that confession?” You asked, and he frowned

“Not really, non” He shook his head, and you couldn’t help but pout slightly

“Okay, fine. I said I got jealous when I thought you and Arthur liked each other” He sighed as you rested your chin on his chest.

“And why would that be?” You asked with a slight smirk, and he pushed you away jokingly and with an eye roll.

“Maybe because I also liked you?” He confessed in a whisper, and your eyes widened, not expecting him to admit that.

“What?” You asked quietly, and he looked out the window

“Don’t worry about it. I won’t let it change anything between us. It never has, and it never will” He shrugged, and you pushed yourself so you were sitting up next to him. Your hand reaches out to hold his jaw and turn his head to face you. Charles’ eyes avoided your own as you leaned down and pressed a kiss against his lips.

It took him a moment before he finally kissed you back; your hand dropped from his jaw to his chest as his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him. After a few moments, you had to pull away, your forehead resting against the Ferrari driver.

“I don’t have the same lung capacity as you”, you joked, allowing your breathing to calm down as he laughed a little.

“Now, if I knew that all I had to do was confess that I was jealous, I would have done it a long time ago” He smiled, and you hummed, laying your head on his chest again.

“We had kids before we even got together”, you joked, and he rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, that is only a few years off our actual age” You shrugged in response, looking up at him as you kissed his jaw. Charles pulled you closer to his side.

When you and Charles finally returned to Monaco, you both decided to tell Pascale. Needless to say, the older woman was more than ecstatic about the situation, her dreams finally coming true for her son and now her daughter-in-law (well, almost. She didn’t care, though)

Pascale had decided it was a reason to celebrate, so now you, Mick and the Leclerc family were out at a fancy restaurant she had picked. Charles’ warm hand was settled on your knee as he spoke to his brothers, and you talked to your own with your hand rested over his.

“I wish Gina could have flown out for this. She would have loved to see you two” Mick smiled, a teasing tone hidden in his voice.

“I wish she were here as well, but she’s giving us a niece, so can’t complain”, you replied with a slight shrug.

“Your turn next,” Mick teased, and you rolled your eyes and shook your head.

“You and Laila have been together a lot longer than we have”, you replied

“Yeah, but you two have been friends since we started karting. You lived with him for some time. You’re basically a married couple.” He argued, and you shook your head

“You and Laila are a married couple!” You exclaimed

“Den Mund halten! Wir sind noch nicht verheiratet! Versuchen Sie, niemandem zu erzählen, dass der Verlobungsring in meiner Schublade liegt, oder?” He exclaimed (Shut up! We're not married yet! Try not to tell anyone the engagement ring is in my drawer. Will you?) as Charles turned his head to look at you both

“Everything okay?” Charles asked

“Mick’s just getting a little excited.” You smiled, pressing a kiss on his lips, to which he nodded, content with the answer.

Later that night, you and Charles were cuddled in his bed. His hands threaded through your hair as one of your hands rested on his chest.

“Can’t believe I get to call you mine, mon amour” He smiled, pressing a kiss into your hair as you looked up at him with a smile.

“Well, you better believe it because you’re stuck with me twenty-four seven Schatz.” You hummed, kissing his jaw as your hand moved from his chest to his face, cupping his face.

“To think that we started off racing together, and look at us now” He rested his head back on his pillow as you watched his face turn into his thinking face. After a moment, you spoke up.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked softly

“Just our journey getting to this point in life” He smiled

“We did follow the best friends to lover troupe”, you joked, and he looked at you with a frown

“The what?” He asked

“Don’t worry about it, Schatz” You smiled

Tag List

@thewannabewriter , @lozzamez3 , @barcelonaloverf1life , @hiireadstuff , @mxdi0 , @f1kenzzz , @evie-119 , @ahgase99 , @velocesainz , @talksoprettyjjx , @scarletwidow3000 , @thegrapejuiceblues1982 , @jasons-little-princess , @tellybearryyyy

@zabwlky1999 , @callsignwidow , @chocolatepoetryfun , @lwstuff ,

@destinyg237 , @glitzyditsy , @sltwins , @myloverjk , @rqlstefanny , @alex-wotton , @tpwkstiles , @maymustdie , @formula1-motogpfan , @genuisalpaca (i love this username btw :) ) , @sophiacalabrese , @alice-went-away , @luvr4miya , @norstappenvibes , @somerandomf1fan (beautiful profile picture) , @teti-menchon0604 , @themazerunnerobsession

#charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles lecrelc #charles leclerc x you #cl16 x y/n #cl16 x you #cl16 imagine #cl16 x reader #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #formula one #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader

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igbylicious · 1 year ago

Text

knockout [woosan x reader]

pairing: woosan x f reader

rating: 18+

genre: smut, bouncy mv au, friends with benefits

summary: Wooyoung invites you to play with San after he wins his latest match.

wc: 4k

warnings: fighter San, manager Wooyoung, threesome, consensual somnophilia (San is the one asleep), van sex, blow job, hand job, spit kink, face-sitting, cunnilingus, face-fucking, choking on cock, cumplay (eating and sharing), dirty talk, San has bruises, they use the pet names ‘baby’ and ‘good girl’ for reader, reader wears a dress, established Woosan, San is whiny while he sleeps but gets cocky when awake, Wooyoung is a mischievous lil’ shit (affectionate) the whole way through

a/n: my first ateez fic! please consider a like/reblog if you like it (❁´◡`❁)

-☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧-

Your phone buzzes late at night, and you already know who it is before looking. You tear yourself away from the TV and check your messages, where you find a selfie from Wooyoung.

His hair is getting longer, pushed back with sunglasses resting on top of his head. (Even though it’s already dark out. Poser.) He wears a black-and-white shirt with a busy pattern and just one button too many undone, a heavy silver necklace around his neck. But all of that is just a sideshow to the main point of the selfie; Wooyoung is winking cheekily at the camera, holding up a big wad of cash. San won the match.

does this mean takeout is on you guys next time? you text him. After a brief pause you add, also congratulations i guess

(But the dismissive tone is just for show, riling each other up a natural part of your relationship with Wooyoung. You’re smiling as you press send, knowing how much a win means to him and San, how hard they work for it.)

Your phone buzzes again. you should join us

for takeout?

idk about takeout but there’s definitely a meal in it for you 😏😜😘🍆💦

You can’t decide whether to grin or roll your eyes at the message and its string of emojis at the end. Lazily you send a text back that you’d love to, but you don’t even know where the hell they are. Those shady underground fighting rings constantly disappear and pop up all over the place, always moving around. Just like San and Wooyoung.

A new message appears on the screen. dw abt it, we’ll come to you. are you in?

Excitement sparks through you as you send Wooyoung an affirmative text back. Guess their dingy van hasn’t fallen apart yet.

It’s been a strange on-and-off thing between you and San and Wooyoung; you lose touch when they’re far away to chase after profitable matches, and you reconnect whenever they’re close by. Just a consequence of their lifestyle, but you don’t mind. Good friends like San and Wooyoung are hard to find, and you’re happy to have them — and to be had — when they’re brought back into your life.

This thing has been going on long enough that usually you don’t even bother dressing up for them anymore but hey, it’s a special occasion, right? So you slip on some lacy panties and wiggle into a cute dress, and do a quick check in the mirror to make sure you’re looking at least halfway decent. (Not too much fuss. Wooyoung did text you in the middle of the night, after all.)

Just when you’re satisfied with your slapdash look, your phone buzzes again.

You pick up the phone, expecting a text from Wooyoung to say he’s here — but that’s not all he sent you. An added photo loads, and your eyes widen to see San conked out on the bench seat of the back of the van. He’s sitting with spread legs and his head lolled back, mouth slightly hanging open, wearing a dirty white tank top and a smattering of bruises across his tanned skin. His dark hair is a mess, pretty lips set in a natural pout while he sleeps.

Immediately, a fresh buzz of excitement surges through you. There is a whole new layer of thrill to this invitation now.

You eagerly head out to find Wooyoung has parked their shitty van right in front of your building. He’s waiting for you with a bright grin and puts his finger to his lips to indicate you have to be quiet, before he lifts the tailgate door open, yellow light spilling out from inside.

His sunglasses have disappeared somewhere between making a selfie and your arrival, saving him a roasting from you. He gives your dress an appreciative once-over, and casually kisses your cheek as a greeting, resting his hand on the small of your back. His good mood is incredibly obvious, fingers brushing against the top of your ass.

With Wooyoung’s hand ‘assisting’ you, you carefully clamber inside the van, avoiding the messy clutter while Wooyoung follows. He shuts the door behind you.

Dark curtains give you some measure of privacy. There’s trunks and bags stuffed with their possessions strewn about, a few food containers from old take-out. You also note the neat piles of money sitting right on top of a thick ledger that Wooyoung uses for their accounting. Despite all his antics, he’s actually pretty responsible with money. He knows that he has to be, never sure when they’ll get their next win.

(You suspect they run a few other less-than-legal stints on the side, but neither seems too keen on making that their main gig.)

And then there is San, sitting right where the picture showed him. Still fast asleep, the back of his head resting against the van partition. Wooyoung must’ve been real careful driving here.

“Look how tired,” Wooyoung murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. “He worked so hard today, I thought we should reward him. How about it, hm? Don’t you think he deserves a prize for taking home the victory?”

You lick your lips, a sharp craving growing in the pit of your stomach at the sight of San’s soft, sleeping face. As far as you are concerned, you are the one getting a prize here. It’s been a long time since you last had the chance to indulge in this particular kink; it can be tricky to coordinate when you don’t actually live in the same house.

And San makes such pretty noises when he’s asleep.

Wooyoung grins at the expression on your face. “Good girl,” he whispers indulgently, pressing one last kiss on your cheek before he playfully slaps your ass, pushing you towards San.

You glare back at Wooyoung, even if the slap sent a crackle of pleasure through you. Just out of principle, to let him know he can’t get away with everything. (He can absolutely get away with everything.)

But then you shift your focus to San. You get down on your knees in front of him, pulling one of their many throw rugs underneath you for comfort. You’re as quiet as possible; San usually is a deep sleeper but you’re not about to risk waking him too early. You do take a moment to just look at him, to take in the way his broad chest moves with slow, even breaths.

The hard, battered muscles of his body are completely relaxed now, arms laying uselessly on the seat. There are marks on his knuckles, and it’s odd to think he was using those same fists to beat someone up, all for a cash prize, just a mere few hours ago. He looks so soft now. Not for the first time, you marvel at how handsome he is, the sharp cut of his jawline, pronounced cheekbones and pouty lips. So damn gorgeous, even with bruises marring his face, a particularly nasty one on the corner of his mouth. You want to kiss it, but you tuck that thought away for later.

San’s legs are already conveniently spread for you to shuffle close; could be a happy coincidence, could be that San was expecting this. Expecting you.

(This was a conversation you had long ago, where he’d given you a free pass to ‘wake’ him if an opportunity presented itself. It is entirely possible that he and Wooyoung discussed this before contacting you, and something about the idea of San falling asleep while thinking of your mouth on his dick makes you squirm in the best way.)

You press a hand against the front of his sweats, feeling the outline of his cock. You squeeze it with a light touch, give the impressive length a gentle stroke, and delight at the little “Hmm” that San sighs out.

Encouraged by the sound, you pull down the waistband of San’s sweats just enough so you can take his cock out, heavy in your hand. Still soft, though he gives a beautiful twitch when your thumb runs across a vein across the underside.

Your eyes glance up when Wooyoung sits down. He slouches next to San, carefully laying his arm across the back of San’s shoulders, fingers ghosting against his hair but never touching. He raises his other hand to bite at his thumb; uncharacteristically quiet, watching with rapt attention.

Heat pools between your thighs; you love being on display for him, teasing a sleeping San. You’re keenly aware of how your dress has ridden up, your ass sticking out, your neckline low enough for an ample view of your cleavage — though you’re sure it’s your hand that has Wooyoung’s full attention right now, wrapped around his lover’s slowly hardening dick.

You gather saliva in your mouth, then let it dribble down on your fingers and San’s cock. He moans, shifting slightly, lips parting a little wider as you take advantage of the easier slide of your palm. The sound goes right to your core; San’s moans are just a bit shallower when he is asleep, a bit more high-pitched. More needy.

More noises start to slip from his lips as you slowly stroke the length of his thick cock, thumb playing against his slit. Sometimes his hips shift to follow your movement, but he does not wake, his conscious mind unaware of your fist working him to full hardness.

San is getting beautifully flushed, a redness blooming across his cheeks and neck as he lets out a faint whimper, brow furrowed. It is always a fun game, to see how far you can take him before he wakes up — before you are treated to that toe-curling moment of aroused disorientation on San’s face, that split-second where he can’t quite figure out why he is so fucking horny until he sees you, nested between his thighs, and a sleepy yet cocky grin breaks out on his face.

But it’s not come so far yet; San is still under the hold of his tired slumber. His breath hitches as your fist twists around the head of his cock, almost like a little hiccup, precum mingling with your spit. You know you can’t hold off your impatience for much longer.

Wooyoung is still staring, though his eyes wander between San’s cock and the wiggle of your ass, his cheeky tongue dipping out to wet his lips. His gaze is heated, intense, and the slight asymmetry of his eyelids makes his stare only more attractive and striking, dotted by the little mole under his eye. He worries his bottom lip with his teeth as he watches, but grins when he catches you watching him in turn. He leans forward, elbow on his knees, and beckons for you to offer your hand.

You do so, and watch how Wooyoung decadently works his mouth and lets a thick globule of spit fall past his lips, onto your waiting palm. His grin widens when you moan weakly as his saliva mingles with yours, with San’s precum, and generously gives you more until your hand is messy and slick. Finally satisfied, Wooyoung leans back with a flirty wink.

You make good use of Wooyoung’s ‘contribution’, pumping San just a little faster now. His noises start to pick up, face contorted with unaware pleasure as a small trail of drool escapes the corner of his mouth. It won’t be long now before he wakes. Honestly, you are surprised it has lasted this long at all; San’s fight must have been particularly strenuous tonight.

Just when you contemplate whether it’s time to get your tongue involved, Wooyoung suddenly gets up from the seat.

You try not to get distracted by him moving around behind you, keeping your focus on San, but then you feel a little tap against your ass. You turn your head to see him lying on his back, head between your feet with a shit-eating grin on his face.

Lift your ass up, he mouths and gestures simultaneously.

You do exactly that, allowing Wooyoung to slide under you with his hands on your waist, his face right underneath the flimsy scrap of lace that covers your dripping core, barely worth the name ‘underwear’. “Seriously?” you whisper, though even just the sight of him, raised eyebrow and ready to eat you out, has more arousal leaking into your panties.

“Hey, San isn’t the only one who worked hard for this match,” Wooyoung whispers quietly, wetting his lips. “Don’t I deserve a reward, too?”

Well… If Wooyoung’s idea of a reward is to have you ride his face, then who are you to deny him? You really keep getting the better deal out of their hard-earned victory. Still, you roll your eyes at him, just to let him know how ridiculous you think he’s being, though the increasingly damp spot on your underwear tells Wooyoung all he needs to know.

He lets out a pleased, dark chuckle as you lower yourself down, his hands gripping tighter onto your waist as he positions you for the best angle. He does not even bother to pull the scrap of lace aside, happily eating you out through it.

San whines when your fingers squeeze around him, liquid oozing from the tip, his hips stuttering lightly before he settles back down. His cock is flushed dark, pulsing in your hand, but it is hard to focus on him right now. A lazy hand continues to stroke him while you struggle to focus on anything but Wooyoung’s muffled moans against your sopping heat.

You bite your lip to keep silent, hips moving on their own accord as Wooyoung’s nose presses against your clit, his mouth undeterred by the obstruction of lace as he makes a sloppy mess of your cunt, eagerly lapping away.

Wooyoung is rarely this quiet, but today he foregoes his usual dirty talk and running commentary to direct his full attention on reducing you to a mindless mess. He is a fiend with his mouth either way, thick swipes of his tongue and grazing teeth, mouth suckling at you through the now-ruined lace.

It takes all your self-control to stay on task, to not get distracted by the sound of a zipper, and soon after the wet noise of Wooyoung jerking himself off, still moaning against your leaking cunt. You shake yourself out of it, wrapping your lips around just the head of San’s cock, licking at the steady stream of precum while you use both hands to work his length. He twitches in your mouth, and for a moment you wonder if he’s going to cum without even waking up at all.

But then Wooyoung uses his nose to nudge your panties aside and sucks directly at your clit, and you moan loudly around San’s cock at the sudden stimuli.

San starts awake at the vibration, his hips reflexively jerking forward. You happily meet his thrust to gag on him, making San hiss a throttled curse. “F-fuck, what’s-ahhh—”

His hand flies to your hair, instinctively holding you in place. Your eyes tear up as he hits the back of your throat and stays there, but you can still glance upward to look at him — and he’s a fucking sight to behold. Bleary-eyed and disoriented, his mouth slack and panting hard for breath as he tries to get his bearings. Eyes landing on you, his cock twitching as understanding dawns. The moment is every bit as beautiful as you had imagined.

“Look who it is, Sannie,” Wooyoung grins when he notices San is awake, taking a break from tongue-fucking you. “Joined us just to congratulate you. Ain’t that sweet?”

“Fuck,” San chokes out, his voice gravelly from sleep. He hisses sharply when you hollow your cheeks and give a light suck, drawing a low groan. Slowly, the sleep retreats from his eyes and is replaced by a dark alertness, though his face is still flushed, his body tired.

Lazily, he lets you continue doing what you do, only stroking your hair in encouragement as he releases you, letting you return to shallower bobs of your head. “Fuck, baby, just like that,” he groans, biting his lip. Once again, your attention is drawn to the bruise on the corner of his mouth, aching to be kissed — but your own mouth is preoccupied. Later, you promise yourself. There will be time for that later.

As expected, San’s moans are a little deeper now he is awake, slowly rocking his hips as he watches you take him further with every pass of your mouth. You wonder if he’s even aware of the difference in his sounds, or if that’s just a little secret for you and Wooyoung to know.

Speaking of Wooyoung — now that he doesn’t have to keep quiet for San, he gets talkative again. “Use me, baby,” he groans, his fingers digging into your ass. “Come on, ride me a little harder. Don’t be shy. Smear that wet pussy all over my face.”

You don’t need to be told twice, enthusiastically granting Wooyoung’s request. He moans happily as you fuck yourself on his tongue, any further words muffled between your thighs. You’d worry about whether Wooyoung can even breathe, except he has a death-grip on your hips and refuses to let you slow down. His nose repeatedly bumps into your clit, sending sparks through you every time, your moans reverberating around San.

San grunts at the feeling, voice husky and low. But as attractive as the sound is… some part of you wants to hear his whimper again. Just to see if you can make him do it.

Well. There are a few sure-fire ways you know to push San to the very limit and beyond — and one of them is immediately available to you.

He was already pushing deep inside your mouth, but you do your best to relax your throat and surge forward, your nose brushing his pelvis as you choke yourself on his cock, then pull back to do it again. And again. A lewd, wet gurgle filling the room every time, your throat constricting as you strain around his thick shaft, tears burning in your eyes.

San groans at your renewed efforts, a greed shining in his sharp eyes when he realises what you’re doing, what you are asking him to do. His fingers scrape your scalp as they embed tighter around the strands of hair. Recognising the unspoken invitation to fuck your mouth as hard as he wants.

“That’s it,” he growls, “you know how I like it. Choke on my cock, hm? I’ll stuff you until you can’t breathe.”

You can barely breathe already; it’s hard to pull in air through your nose like this, with San steadily rocking his hips forward. You go slack in his hold, just letting him use you to his liking, trying to curl your tongue around the underside of his cock in the way you know drives him up the wall.

Wooyoung makes a noise when you slump down on his face, and you try to catch yourself but he won’t have it, only sucking more eagerly onto your clit as he grabs onto your thighs to keep you in place. You moan loudly, and San curses in response, his breath getting pitchy.

It’s working, you realise. It’s not as much as when he is asleep, but slowly a whiny lilt creeps into San’s voice as he uses your throat, his face contorted with pained pleasure.

Your head starts to spin, the barrage of sensations threatening to overwhelm you. Slick sounds and deep moans, a heady scent of arousal permeating the air. San’s cock obstructing your breath, his little whines; Wooyoung’s tongue nimbly flicking against your clit, his hands squeezing at the soft meat of your thighs. You’re tilting, slowly but surely, right over the edge when Wooyoung sucks harshly, exactly when San whimpers.

It hits you like a freight train, the violent force of it enough to have you sobbing around San’s cock. You tremble and shake as electricity surges through you, only held up by San and Wooyoung’s hold on you.

Your garbled cries take San over the edge with you, though he still has enough restraint to pull back slightly, no longer nudging against your gag reflex. He shudders with a tight hiss, clumsy fingers catching in your hair as he spills hot seed inside your mouth.

You almost choke again; it’s messy, and there is a lot, leaving you to wonder if San has been abstaining before the match. Lately you certainly haven’t done more with them than casual texting, but you can make no assumptions about what he and Wooyoung get up to when you’re not around.

You try your best not to swallow it down — and not spill a single drop, either. At the latter, you don’t succeed entirely, a thin wet trail dribbling down your lips when San pulls out and slumps back onto the couch with a final, loud groan. But when Wooyoung gets out from underneath to sit next to you, and pushes a thumb on your bottom lip to show him, you can proudly stick out your tongue to him, sticky whiteness on display.

“Good girl,” Wooyoung purrs, fondly cupping your cheek. “Don’t even need me to tell you anymore, huh? So well-behaved for us.”

You moan contently at the praise, and again when Wooyoung eagerly puts his lips on you, sloppily lapping up San’s cum from your chin, your lips, until his tongue invades your mouth for a proper meal. You can taste yourself on him while Wooyoung tastes San, who is watching it all with a small, cocky grin, teeth flashing at you.

Wooyoung lets out a needy moan as he drinks deep, his tongue sliding against yours in a heady dance. He grabs for your hand, guiding you down to his still-hard cock, hot and weeping precum. Your fingers are still messy and slick, making it easy for you to jerk him off while he continues to hungrily kiss you, licking up every last drop he can reach.

It’s less of a challenge to make Wooyoung whimper, but the sound is no less exciting for it, his high-pitched moans like music to your ears. He cums messily in your hand, some spilling onto your dress. With a final bite to your bottom lip, he pulls away from your mouth, eyes heavy-lidded and looking thoroughly fucked out, lips swollen and shiny from the essences of both you and San. You grin at him, lifting your hand to suck his cum off your fingers.

Only then do you turn to San, who indulges himself with slow strokes of his hand around his cock while he watches you and Wooyoung intently.

“Congratulations on the match,” you say casually, cum-stained fingers lingering on your lips.

San’s grin returns to his face and he grabs your hand to pull you into his lap — where you finally get to kiss that bruise on the corner of his mouth. He winces as you press up to him, and you can hear Wooyoung grouse next to you.

“Be careful with him, alright? That’s my meal ticket you got there,” he complains, dusting himself off as he gets back on his feet.

But San wraps his arms around you, keeping you captive. “You don’t have to be that careful,” he murmurs against your mouth, his hands firmly planted on your ass as he grinds you against his crotch. The night is not over quite yet.

-☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧-

An indeterminate amount of time later, you are sitting snugly between San and Wooyoung on the shabby worn-down bench seat of their shabby worn-out van. They graciously borrowed you some clothes, leaving you cosily wrapped in a pair of San’s sweats and one of Wooyoung’s oversized hoodies. In your hands you have freshly delivered takeout, brought to your address, enjoying a hot meal together with the guys.

Their treat, of course.

#igby’s writing #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez fic #woosan x reader #san smut #san x reader #wooyoung smut #wooyoung x reader #ateez hard hours #kpop smut #ateez scenarios #san imagines #wooyoung imagines #san scenarios #wooyoung scenarios

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ashwhowrites · 4 months ago

Note

Hi, I have an idea that could be fun. What if Hopper had another daughter (18/19) from his first marriage, Sarah’s older sister. Eddie wants to date her but is scared of her dad. Maybe he takes trying to talk to her but Hopper gets in the way every time. Once dating maybe he has to come to pick her up and Hopper wants to ask some questions. Could add past in counters between the two. I’m thinking fluffy and funny.

Funny enough, I've been working on a Hopper Daughter x Eddie fic

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Scary sheriff

Eddie met Sherriff Hopper a few too many times and has been gifted with many speeding tickets. He was slightly afraid of him, Hopper was big and tall and he never seemed to show emotion. He was a big grump and everyone knew not to get on his bad side, but Eddie feared he'd always be on the bad side.

He has a daughter, later teens, and fucking beautiful. Eddie had been crushing on her since he accidentally ran into her at the police station. She was sweet and nice and seemed to be nothing like her father. Eddie knew she was a forbidden fruit that he'd never get his hands on, but that didn't stop him from thinking about her.

Apparently, the world wanted Eddie to be with her, or at least that's what he liked to believe, because she started showing up everywhere.

Eddie was filling his van with gas, whistling to himself when she pulled up next to him. He was quick to look in his window and fix his hair, he smoothed out his shirt and turned to look at her as she got out of the car. She didn't notice him at first, but then he spoke up.

"Hey, Y/N right?" Eddie asked he knew for a fact that was her name, he repeated it on his tongue for hours after he met her.

"Yes! Hi, Eddie. How are you?" She asked politely

"I'm go-" Eddie went to answer but he was cut off as someone else got out of the car. Eddie didn't even notice that Hopper was in the car, his attention so lost on her.

"I'll pump, will you go pay them?" Hopper asked, Y/N sighed and gave Eddie a small smile, but grabbed her dad's cash and walked into the small building.

"Good, son?" Hopper asked, a tiny smirk on his face as the young boy nodded fast and quickly finished pumping his gas. He was back in his van in a flash.

Hopper waved bye as he left the gas station at the correct speed for a change.

~~~

Eddie walked into the small restaurant with Dustin, both starving after a long campaign. They followed the worker and sat at a small table. Dustin dove straight into the menu but Eddie felt like someone's eyes were on him. Which wasn't new, he was used to it. But still, he slowly looked around until he met the guilty eyes. Instead of receiving a glare from someone in the town, he was met with a full teeth smile from Y/N. She waved and Eddie smiled.

"I'll be right back," Eddie said, not even looking at Dustin as he got up and began to walk over to her table. She was sitting alone and Eddie was more than happy to take the seat across from her.

"Late night bite?" She asked as he took a seat

"Yeah. The campaign got intense and we are starving. Are you here alone?" Eddie asked, praying she was so he could call Dustin over and they could all eat together.

"Dad's in the bathroom," Y/N smiled, "but maybe we can meet here one time?"

Eddie felt his stomach flutter, did she ask him out?

"Yeah, Eddie. We'd love to meet you here one time," Hopper said as he walked up behind Eddie. Eddie gulped as Hopper's large hand settled on his shoulder.

"Dad!" Y/N sighed

"I think Dustin is ready to order," Hopper said, a small glare sent to Eddie's way when he looked up. Eddie nodded and flew out of the seat, speed walking back to his original table.

~~~

Eddie lost count of how many times Hopper chased him off before he could ask Y/N out. Eddie swore Hopper had an alarm that rang in his head when he looked in Y/N's direction. Maybe it was because he didn't have a dad, but damn did she hang out with hers a lot.

Y/N knew her dad was good at being intimidating and at times she needed it. But not when he ruined her chance at a date with Eddie Munson. Sure, the talk of the town painted him in a pretty bad way. And the amount of tickets her dad had given him, but something about him drew her in. He was a bad boy but respectful. He reminded her of Billy Hargrove, with the long hair, cigarettes, and the bad boy persona. But unlike Billy, Eddie was more human and a lot less of an asshole. Y/N had a thing for Billy, as all the girls did. It ended up a mess and Hopper cursed himself for ever letting him near his daughter. She understood he was trying to do better with Eddie but she didn't need protection from Eddie. The only protection she needed was a condom.

Y/N decided to take the elephant out of the room and have Eddie all to herself. She begged her sister Eleven to occupy their dad while she went to find Eddie. Y/N never cared too much for Eleven's friends, except Max, but now she was grateful. Dustin knew where Eddie lived and was fast to hand the address over on a piece of paper.

Eddie was blasting his music when Wayne barged through his door. He didn't notice Wayne until he shut off the speaker. Eddie spun around with an annoyed look.

"I've been screaming for you for five minutes," Wayne groaned, "Anyways, you have a guest. Put on a shirt."

Eddie rolled his eyes but when Wayne moved, someone was standing behind him.

"Y/N!" Eddie gasped, he let out a nervous laugh and grabbed a shirt from his bed. Y/N let her eyes wander until the exposed skin was covered by material.

"I thought this might be the only place we wouldn't be interrupted," Y/N said, walking into his room.

Eddie's mouth felt dry as he cleaned off his bed for her to sit. She took the clean spot and patted the spot next to her. Eddie smiled and took the seat, he hoped she couldn't tell how nervous he was.

She loved how nervous he was. It made her feel confident that he was interested in her.

"So you weren't signaling to your dad to run me away?" Eddie laughed, she joined in and placed her hand on his knee. The laughter got stuck in Eddie's throat.

"No, I had to beg my little sister to keep him occupied while I snuck over here," Y/N said, laughing softly at the idea

"Yeah? Why did you want to sneak over here so bad?" Eddie asked, slowly feeling more comfortable. Slowly easing into flirting and charming her.

"So you could ask me out"

Eddie wiped his sweaty hands down his jeans, softly hitting her hand. He slowly slid his hand into hers.

"Will you g-"

"Oh my god," Y/N whispered

Eddie froze, scared to breathe, "What?"

"My dad is outside your window," Y/N whispered

Eddie gulped and stayed still

"Look!" She harshly whispered

"No," Eddie said

"Eddie look!"

"I'm not going to fucking look,"

"Just look!"

Eddie groaned as he slowly turned his head, his heart sped. He looked fully over his shoulder but saw no one in his window. He looked at it confused until he heard little laughs.

Eddie looked at her and she began to laugh harder

"You are a dick!" Eddie laughed, shoving her arm

"I had to. But this time, no interruptions," she smiled

"Will you go out on a date with me?"

"Yes,"

"Holy shit, I got the whole question out," Eddie laughed. "My band plays Friday at the hideout. Would you be interested in watching us play? I'll come to pick you up before the show then after we can grab a late-night bite to eat?" Eddie was nervous to ask her. He worried that she wouldn't be into his type of music or even worse, she thought he wasn't talented.

"I'd love to come see you play and the food sounds perfect," she smiled, moving her hands to softly touch his arm. Her fingers traced up his tattoos and back down, making Eddie shiver.

~~~

Eddie was shaking in fear when he pulled up to her house. He barely got out of his van when Hopper swung the front door open and began marching out.

Eddie took a deep breath and met him halfway in the yard.

"Evening, sir"

"It's sheriff to you, Munson"

Eddie nodded with a gulp. He wasn't sure what to say so he stayed silent, peaking over Hopper's shoulder.

"I hear you are in a band. Do you do drugs with this band?" Hopper asked, his arms crossed and his muscles bulged out.

"No, sheriff" It might be a lie but Eddie wasn't under oath and he wasn't going to mess up his one chance to prove himself.

"Because my little girl doesn't need to get into trouble with drugs and partying. You hear me?"

"Dad, will you please leave him alone," Y/N groaned, her frame was much smaller compared to Hopper's as she appeared from behind him.

Eddie focused his attention on her, and it was hard not to. She looked incredible. She wore dark jeans, a tank top with a jacket, and classic sneakers. She wasn't over the top or trying to dress fancy, but Eddie couldn't look away.

"Oh relax we are having a nice little chat, aren't we?" Hopper asked, uncrossing his arms to give Eddie a harsh pat on the shoulder.

"We're great," Eddie squeaked out in fear

"Home by midnight or you'll never see her again," Hopper warned then leaned close to Eddie's ear, "Whatever you are thinking or wanting to happen tonight, better not happen. Or I will kill you and make it look like an accident." He whispered

"Well have fun kids!" Hopper said, his voice much more joyful as he stood up straight. Y/N rolled her eyes and grabbed Eddie's hand. She waved goodbye to her dad as she walked over to the van.

"Didn't scare you off did he?" Y/N joked as she buckled herself

Eddie coughed and started the van, "He'd never be able to scare me away from you, gorgeous," the wink he sent made her face burn.

Hopper watched as they drove off, trying to ignore the alarms in his head.

"They are going to have sex"

Hopper turned around as the words left Eleven's innocent mouth.

"Where did you hear that?" Hopper demanded, his temper already rising

Eleven shrugged, "she said it over the phone. What's sex?"

Eleven didn't get her answer, Hopper was already running to his truck.

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson fluff x reader #ashwhowrites #eddie munson angst #eddie munson angst x reader #eddie munson x hopper! reader

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cowboybeepboop · 6 months ago

Text

Wild ride

"Damn, Y/N," he murmured, running his hand through your mildly tangled hair. "You're something else."

You smile, feeling utterly sated and content. "And don't you forget it, cowboy," you reply, planting a lazy kiss onto his bare chest.

Pairing: Tyler Owens x fem! Reader

Genre: smut

Word count: 5206

Summary: Tyler comforts you through a panic attack after a storm. He then rescues you from your fight with Javi. You take a drive to a hotel and then things get very heated.

a/n: this is entirely a reader insert to the movie bc I thought it would fit so perfectly. Also this is the longest oneshot I’ve ever wrote lmao 😭 Hopefully you enjoy!

When you moved to New York it wasn’t just to get away from the place where your friends all died. It was because you couldn’t live there without feeling guilt about being the reason everyone was out there to begin with. The shame and guilt was burning you, inside and out. All for what? What did it get you? Nothing. If you couldn’t tame a tornado you were going to do everything in your power to help people prepare and get out before it was too late. So when Javi came to you asking for help with storm par, you wanted to tell him no. You wanted to say that there was no way you could ever possibly go back not after what you did.

But when he was explaining how they would be making a perfect 3D scan of the tornado and how it can be used to help save lives, you knew you had to help. He was right. You could get him close enough to the tornado in order to set up the portable units.

As time passes you find yourself more intrigued by the self proclaimed “Tornado Wrangler”, whatever that’s supposed to mean. At the same time though, he’s frustrating. Like all he cares about is chasing the storm and making money instead of realizing how much damage these things cause.

“Javi, we have to help.” You say sternly as he keeps talking about the stupid sensor. “Javi! It’s a small town, they’re going to need all the help they can get, we need to help.” He sighs.

“Alright, alright. I’ll look for it later, okay?” You press a hand to his arm gently. “You made a good call. They really do need our help.” Javi pulls off to the side of the road, taking the keys out. You quickly leave the truck and go off to help.

We worked through the afternoon, finding lost heirlooms, important documents, and small mementos that people had thought were lost forever. Each time, their faces would light up with relief, and I’d feel a small sense of satisfaction, knowing I could make a difference.

The sun had broken through the clouds, casting long shadows over the town. The cleanup was far from over, but the worst was behind us. People were starting to talk again, making plans to rebuild. There was a sense of hope in the air, fragile but growing stronger with each passing minute.

You’re watching Javi and Scott interacting with an old guy and someone who lost their bar. Your eyebrows furrow as they offer him a card. “Didn’t know storm par was in the business of helping people,” you hear the familiar cowboy’s voice ringing through the air.

”Well, from what I see they’re trying to make a difference.” You turn to look at Tyler, wrapping your arms around your upper body.

”That’s one way of putting it,” he narrows his eyes while looking behind you at Javi.

“What?” you clench your jaw.

“Do you even know who you’re chasing for?”, his voice raises slightly. ”How much more do these people got to lose before y’all are done making a difference?” His face tightens as he grinds his teeth slightly.

”Sorry, says the guy setting up shop selling t-shirts and mugs after a storm’s hit.” You turn around before he can answer. Pulling the keys Javi gave you out of your pocket. Right as you’re reaching for the door, Lily yells your name.

”Hey, take some food,” she hands you a brown takeout box and a water bottle.

”Oh, I don’t have any cash on me,” you give a half smile.

”It’s okay, that’s why we're always selling shirts and mugs, so we can help give people food.” You shake your head as your eyes widen slightly.

”Then you should keep it, in case you run out.” She hands you the water bottle.

“At least take the water, stay hydrated.” You nod and tell her to stay safe.

Once you get back to the motel you quickly take a shower. Sitting down on the bed with your laptop you look up “Marshall Riggs” you bite down on your cheek, your eyes closing after you read up on him. Pinching your nose bridge you let out a sigh, closing the device.

There’s a knock at the door, you get up slowly and open it. “Some of Javi’s crew said you were staying down by the rodeo.” You don’t say anything in return so he offers you a small pizza box. “Thought you might be hungry,” you take it and shut the door in his face.

You reopen the door, “Thank you, Tyler.” He smiles sweetly.

“How are you doin’, after all that?” Your head nods softly. “How about I show you something nice, city girl.” He offers you his arm.

”And what’s that?” Stepping out of your room you close and lock the door before taking his arm. He doesn’t reply but instead leads you to the stadium at the rodeo. The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a warm, golden light over the dusty rodeo grounds. The air buzzed with excitement and the scent of grilled food, mingling with the earthy smell of the arena. Families filled the bleachers, kids waving flags and clutching cotton candy, while seasoned rodeo-goers leaned against the rails, hats tipped low, eyes sharp with anticipation.

As the night wore on, the rodeo continued—steer wrestling, bronc riding, and more, each event bringing its own excitement and challenges. The crowd cheered, laughed, and gasped, caught up in the spectacle. In the arena, cowboys were competing in the team roping event. Dust kicked up as the horses thundered forward, riders expertly casting their lassos around the horns of the steers. The crowd roared with approval when a duo managed to secure a flawless catch, the announcer’s voice booming in congratulations.

“So tell me about yourself city girl,” Tyler’s voice is low and gentle.

“You know you keep calling me that,” you turn to him, “ but this isn’t my first rodeo, I grew up here in Oklahoma.” Turning back to the events in front of you.

“Would you look at that, I finally learned something about you.” His lips curve up as he admires your side profile.

Back behind the scenes, in the holding pens, a few of the seasoned ranch hands started to glance nervously at the sky. They could see it now—a line of dark, swirling clouds on the horizon, moving faster than seemed natural. A wind had picked up, too, sharper and colder than it had been just minutes ago. But the rodeo continued, the excitement and noise drowning out any sense of unease.

A leaf falls onto your head, you reach your hand up into the air as you watch the leaves fall around you. “Tyler, the air feels heavy, this isn’t right.”

In the ring, the next event was starting: the barrel racing. A young girl was about to make her run when a sharp crack of thunder boomed overhead, so loud it momentarily drowned out the announcer. The crowd murmured, looking up at the sky as the first raindrops began to fall. But as she rounded the first barrel, the wind hit, strong and fierce, whipping dust and debris across the arena. The rain intensified, turning into a heavy downpour that sent people in the stands scrambling for cover. The announcer tried to keep up the energy, but his voice was lost in the wind. In the distance, a low, ominous rumble filled the air—not thunder this time, but something far more menacing.

There's barely time to react before the rodeo’s emergency siren began to wail, a long, shrill warning that sent a chill down everyone’s spine. People were running, some heading for their cars, others diving for the nearest ditch or sturdy structure. The craze of people began pushing and trampling one another, Tyler quickly grabs a woman who fell. He helps her up to her feet and guides you toward the hotel you’re staying at.

“There! Let’s check for a basement,” you nod as you both run inside. There’s a couple arguing with the clerk, you’re checking around for a doorway that might lead to a basement. Tyler tries to ask the man working the front desk but to no avail. “Outside, there’s an empty pool.” You yell to Tyler, “we can try there” he nods and you begin leading the young mother and daughter out the door, Owen’s and the man follow close behind. Once you get the mother and girl down you jump in. Directing them toward the open piping. “Hold on there, cover her head.”

You grasp onto the pipes holding on tight as you feel Tyler’s chest pressing against your back. He keeps his hands tight around the bars, he keeps himself tight against you making sure you don’t move.

“You’re gonna be okay, keep holding on. I’ve got you. I’ve got you” he’s whispering into your ear. You tightly squeeze your eyes shut feeling as though you’re being transported back to the day when you lost everything.

It started with a flutter in your chest, like the faint rustling of wings. You tried to ignore it, chalking it up to nerves, but the flutter didn’t go away. Instead, it grew stronger, spreading through your body like wildfire. Your breathing quickened, shallow and rapid, each breath feeling like it wasn’t enough, like there wasn’t enough air.

It started with trembling hands, and then your whole body followed, shaking uncontrollably. Feeling lightheaded, as if the ground beneath you had suddenly disappeared, leaving you suspended in a void. My chest tightened, squeezing tighter and tighter, making it even harder to breathe.

As quickly as the storm had begun, it passed over. Tyler wraps his arms around you. “Y/N? Is everything okay?” Your body continues to shake as you can’t seem to breathe. “It’s okay, just follow my breathing,” he turns you around so your face is in his chest.

”Deep breaths, in and out,” Tyler gives gentle directions as he rubs his palms over your arms.

”I think I’m okay now..” your voice is soft and hoarse as you choke the words out. His cold, rough hand gently brushes the hair from your face.

“You look like you’ve been through hell tonight.” He says, while helping you out of the pool. You stifle a small laugh in response. Boone and the rest of his crew come up to the pair of you, asking if you’re both alright.

“Y/N, baby. Are you okay?” Javi appears behind you, his hands gently pressing into your hips as he pulls you into a tight hug.

Tyler feels a pang of jealousy as he watches Javi slide his hands lovingly around your hips and pull you into the hug. He tries to shake the feeling, reminding himself that it’s not his place to care. Still, he can’t help but feel a sense of protectiveness wash over him.

“I came as soon as I heard,” his eyes filled with worry as you looked up at him. “Where did you hide out? The pool?” You just nod in response, finding comfort in his arms. Javi keeps repeatedly asking if you’re okay, running his fingers through your hair and resting one hand on your waist.

“Yes, I’m okay. It’s okay,” you pull away from him, giving a soft smile. “I was with Tyler the whole time, he made sure I was okay.” He nods but his eyes flicker behind you.

“Javi, your little girlfriend is fine, now let's get to work.” Scott says loudly, catching the attention of Tyler and Lily. “Apparently this place was family owned so I’m gonna start working on numbers. Riggs is gonna want those first thing.” His voice and face are both emotionless and cold, sending a slight shiver down your spine.

“Wait wait,” you hold onto his arm. “What exactly is Riggs getting out of all your data collection?”

“What’s the matter?” He scratches his neck and awkward expression flashing over his features.

“Is profiting off of people’s tragedy part of your business plan? Why are you doing this?” You pull away from his body.

“Riggs is offering these people a way to move on with their lives.” He takes a step back from you, his voice raising slightly.

“Swooping in and taking advantage of people, who have just lost everything” you take a deep breath to steady your shaky voice “You have no idea what that’s like”

“I don’t know what that’s like?” His fist clenches “How about losing three of my best friends while you were trying to land a big fat grant for your science project?”

Your eyes fill with fresh tears as you look up at him, lip quivering. “Take your keys, I’m done.” You toss them at his feet walking off as fast as you can. Finding yourself drawn to Tyler and his wrangler team.

Tyler witnessed the whole exchange, and his protective instinct flares up again. He watches you stomp away from Javi, a mixture of anger and concern etched on his face. He notices the tears in your eyes and the wobble in your lip. He steps forward and places a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Hey, sweetheart. You okay?”

“Can you just take me somewhere please?” Your voice trembles while Javi yells after you. Asking you not to leave like this.

Tyler shoots a warning glare over his shoulder at Javi before turning back to you. “Of course, darling. Anywhere you want to go.” Owen’s voice is soft and soothing, a stark contrast to his rough exterior.

He gently takes your elbow, steering you away from Javi, and his crew. Tyler leads you over to his Truck in the parking lot where the motel once was, his hand still on your elbow. Tyler opens the passenger door and guides you onto the seat, shutting the door before making his way around to the driver's side.

A sigh escapes your lips as you relax into the seat. You softly massage your nose bridge keeping your eyes squeezed shut as a tear escapes one of your eyes.

Tyler watches you silently as you try to regain your composure. He can sense the pain and hurt radiating off of you, and he wishes he could take it all away. After a few moments, he breaks the silence. “Hey, look at me for a second.” He puts his hand on your knee rubbing small circles into your skin.

You open up your eyes, turning to look at him. Your lip still quivering slightly. Tyler’s heart aches as he looks into your tearful eyes. He reaches out and gently wipes the tear away with his thumb, his rough hands surprisingly tender against your face.

“Hey, you don’t need to worry about anything right now. You’re gonna stay with me tonight, okay?” His hand travels down your cheek as he leans over and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. Before he starts the car he reaches into the backseat pulling out one of his hats, putting it on with his signature smile.

“You know, you deserve way better than that,” he turns the keys in the ignition. “You can do way better than him anyway.” You giggle while brushing your teary eyes.

“Do you think Javi and I are a couple?” Your once sorrow filled eyes light up with your laugh. A small smile tugs at the corner of Tyler's mouth as he watches you laugh. The sight of your smile warms his heart, and the pang of jealousy eases a bit.

“I mean, he seemed pretty possessive of you back there. And the way he was touchin’ up on you…” he lets his voice trail off, his jaw clenching slightly at the memory.

“Don’t tell me that makes you jealous,” a small smirk decorates your lips. You lean closer to his side, turning your body to further face him.

Tyler’s breath hitches as you lean closer to him, a wave of electricity coursing through his veins. He tries to keep his cool, but the hint of possessiveness flickers in his eyes once again.

“Jealous? Me?” he scoffs, trying to convince himself more than you.

Your eyes light up “Oh you’re totally jealous,” you brush your fingers over the skin on his arms, moving your hand to meet his.

A shiver runs down Tyler’s spine as your fingers travel along his skin, his heartbeat quickening at your touch. He tries to maintain a cool demeanor, but the flutter in his chest gives him away.

“Jealous? Of that jackass?”, his voice a little rougher this time. He looks down at your hand in his, noticing how small and delicate it looks against his own, rough and calloused hands. He swallows hard, fighting the urge to interlace his fingers with yours.

“Is that so?” You interlock your fingers with his as you lean over to kiss his temple. “It’s okay to be jealous, just tell me you don’t like seeing other men touching me,” you whisper into his ear, your voice filled with amusement.

Tyler takes a sharp breath as you interlace your fingers with his, his hand clamping tight around yours. “It does make me jealous,” he admits, his voice a gravelly whisper. His free hand squeezes the steering wheel, the muscles in his arm flexing tightly. “Alright, I don’t like seeing other men touchin’ you.” He brushes his thumb over the top of your hand.

A blush quickly rises up your face as you squeeze his hand firmly. Resting your head against his shoulder you bite down on the inside of your cheek. “Are we almost to a hotel?” Your heart races as you feel the muscles in his arm flexing.

Tyler glances out the window at the passing scenery, trying to distract himself from the feeling of you resting against his shoulder. He clears his throat before speaking, his voice still low and rough.

“We’re almost there. Just a few more minutes.” He rubs his thumb over your knuckles, the gentle movement betraying the tension in his body. He can’t help but steal a glance down at you, taking in your blushing face and the way you bite down on your lip. He fights the urge to pull you into his lap and press his lips against yours.

Using your free hand you run your fingers over his thigh, letting your mind wander as you think about your plans for the night. Trailing your hand closer and closer to his hips teasingly.

Tyler’s breath hitches as you run your fingers along his thigh, his body tense as you trail your hand closer to his hips. His mind starts racing with impure thoughts, visions of you pinned beneath him, your skin against his. He swallows hard, his muscles tensing further as he tries to control himself.

“You’re playin’ a dangerous game, you know that?” his voice low and rough, almost coming out as a growl.

“Yeah?” You run your fingers over his golden belt buckle, “I like dangerous games,” your tongue poking out as you lick your bottom lip.

Tyler swallows hard when you touch his golden belt buckle, his body shuddering under your touch. He shifts in his seat, trying to hide the effect you’re having on him while also struggling to keep his eyes on the road.

“Oh yeah? How dangerous are you willing to go?” he asks, his voice thick with desire. He glances down at your tongue on your lip, his eyes darkening as he imagines what it would feel like against his skin.

“That depends, love,” you press soft kisses into his neck, moving your hand from his, resting it on his chest. “How far are you gonna wanna go?” Your eyes flicker to the hotel sign as the truck pulls into the parking lot.

Tyler lets out a shaky breath as you pepper kisses along his neck, his heart stuttering at the feeling of your lips on his skin. He places a hand over yours on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart thundering beneath your touch.

“Damn, darlin’, you’re really testing my limits right now.” he manages to say, his voice a growl. “But if it were up to me I’d go as far as you’d let me.”

He looks out the window as the truck pulls into the hotel parking lot, his mind racing with all the possibilities that the night holds. He leaps out of the truck running to your side to open the door for you.

“Well, you better hurry up and find us a room then,” you shut the door behind you. You pull the hat from his head, placing it on yours.

Tyler watches you stride ahead of him, his eyes drinking in the sight of his hat sitting on your head. He adjusts his jeans, trying to hide the stiffness growing in his groin as he follows you up to the hotel check-in desk.

“You’re a damn tease, you know that?” he mutters to you as he gets the room keys from the attendant. You flash him an innocent smile as you step into the elevator.

“But you’re too cute when you’re flustered.” Looking up at him you press both hands against his well-built abs. You slip your thigh between his legs as he reaches for the buttons on the elevator, pressing into his groin.

Tyler’s breath hitches at the feel of your hands on his stomach, his muscles flexing under your touch. His heart nearly pounds out of his chest as your thigh brushes against his stiffness, a guttural groan escaping his lips at the contact.

“Jesus, darlin'...you’re gonna be the death of me.” he pants, the words thick with lust. He struggles with the elevator buttons, his hands fumbling as his mind becomes increasingly clouded with need.

You stand up on your tippy toes to whisper in his ear “That’s the plan,”. You move one hand up to his jaw, pulling his face to yours. “Are you gonna kiss me yet?” You mumble.

Tyler swallows hard as you tease his ear with your hot breath, his body growing taut with desire. He looks down at your face, his gaze fixated on your lips as you speak. The words send a shiver down his spine, his restraint slipping by the second.

“You want me to kiss you, darlin’?” his lips hover just above your own. He runs a thumb across your lower lip, his eyes darkened by lust.

“Tyler, I want you to do much more than just kiss me.” Your arms wrap around his neck as you press your chest against his. “Please,” you breathe out. The elevator dings as you get to the floor of your room.

Tyler’s control snaps at your words, a low growl escaping his lips as you press against him. He grabs your waist, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulls you close, the pleading tone of your voice nearly undoing him.

“Don’t gotta ask me twice, darlin’” He mutters, his voice low and gravelly. He picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carries you out of the elevator and towards your room. You giggle into his ear while he unlocks the door.

Tyler grins at the sound of your giggles, his chest rumbling with a satisfied chuckle. He kicks the hotel door open, his eyes locking on the queen-sized bed in the center of the room. He sets you down on the edge of the bed, towering over you as he places his hands on your thighs. You both kick your shoes off really quickly before getting back to it.

Your hand goes to the back of his neck as you pull his face to yours. You kiss him with hunger. Your free hand sliding up his shirt as you feel his smooth abs.

Tyler groans deep in his throat as you pull him towards you, his body responding instantly to your touch. He devours your lips with a primal need, his tongue exploring your mouth as he presses his body up against yours. His muscles twitch under your hand, fire spreading through his veins as you glide your fingers across his abs.

“Goddamn it, Y/N… you're makin' me crazy.” he gasps, his voice thick with desire. He kisses you again, his hands roaming up your thighs, tracing the curves of your body with rough yet tender caresses.

Your hands trail down his abdomen, landing on his belt buckle once again. Your fingers fumble with his belt before successfully pulling it out. Breaking the kiss you quickly remove your shirt, throwing it to the corner of the room.

“Mm Ty…” sucking on your bottom lip as you lean back on your hands while looking up at him seductively.

Tyler sucks in a sharp breath, his body tensing under your touch. Once you remove your shirt, revealing the soft skin beneath, his gaze trails over your body, his eyes darkened by lust. He watches you lean back on the bed, your eyes locking with his in a sultry gaze.

“Mmm darlin’...” you sit up and pull him closer by the loops on his jeans, his strong legs coming between your own, spreading them apart. Lifting up his shirt you press kisses all over his tanned skin.

He reaches his hand out to touch your exposed skin, his fingers gently tracing your collarbone. “Then why don’t you do something about it baby?” You ask in a low tone.

His hands rest on your waist, pulling you closer as you spread your legs even wider for him. “Oh baby, you don't know what you're gettin' yourself into” he whispers, his voice rumbling with need.

He suddenly grips your hips tightly and flips you onto your back, his body hovering over yours as he pins you against the bed. Reaching up you pull his shirt over his head almost moaning at the sight of his toned body.

He smirks as he watches your eyes rake over him, his ego growing at your reaction. “You like what you see, Y/N?” He asks, his voice rough with desire as he looks down at you, his body pressing against yours.

“Most definitely,” you capture his lips in a deep kiss, maneuvering to put him on his back, straddling his hips. Moving back you unbutton his jeans and slide the zipper down. Pulling the pants off his hips you smile to yourself as you see how worked up you got him. Your hand slips into his boxers wrapping around his length.

He lets out a guttural moan, body arching into yours at the contact. “Oh God, baby…” he gasps, his eyes fluttering shut as he lets out a string of curses. Tyler's sharp intake of breath was your reward, and you relish in the feeling of power it gives you. He grips the bed sheets tightly as you pull his dick out, wrapping your lips around the tip.

“Fuck,” he moans as you pull off and sit back on the bed, making sure your teasing antics continue. All you really want is for Tyler to take complete control and you know exactly how to make him. With slow, purposeful movements, you remove your bra, freeing your breasts and running gentle hands over your own body, nipples hardening under your touch. Then you sit back, pulling your panties off, giving him a show.

Tyler's breathing quickens, his desire palpable. "Damn it, Y/N, you know what I want," he said, his voice thick with need. "Stop teasing and give it to me."

A slow, seductive smile spreads across your face. "I'm not teasing, Tyler," you say, reaching for his hand and placing it on your thigh. "I'm just getting started." Guiding his hand, you slowly part your legs, exposing your wet, eager pussy to his touch. Tyler's fingers delve between the folds, his touch both gentle and demanding. You moan, eyebrows furrowing as you squeeze your eyes shut, your head falling back while you relish in the sensation.

"That's it," you whisper, eyes fluttering shut as your eyebrows furrow with pleasure. "Touch me, Tyler. Make me cum." Your voice comes out in a gentle beg.

Tyler's other hand joins the first, exploring your most intimate places, his thumbs circling your clit as he plunged his fingers into the tight hole. Your hips buck as you begin riding his hands with waves of pleasure crashing over you.

"Yes, just like that," you pant, your body trembling. "Oh, God, Tyler, don't stop. I'm so close."

Tyler quickens his pace, his eyes never leaving yours as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge. "Cum for me, Y/N," he commanded, his voice hoarse with desire. "Let me feel you fall apart."

With a sharp cry, you climax, your body shaking uncontrollably as pleasure rips through your entire body. Tyler continues working his magic, drawing out your orgasm and prolonging the exquisite sensation.

Finally, as the waves of pleasure subside, you collapse into the bed, your chest heaving as you try to catch a breath. Tyler hovers over your frame, his eyes smoldering with a mixture of triumph and desire.

"That," he said, his voice raw, "was just the beginning. Especially after all of that teasing you did,” his voice low and sultry. Tyler's lips curve into a devilish smile as he positions himself between your trembling legs. In one smooth thrust, he enters you, filling you completely. Moaning at the stretch, your body welcomes the invasion.

Tyler begin to move, his hips driving into you with a rhythmic pace. Meeting his thrusts, your nails digging into his back as you urge him on. The bed creaks in time with their passionate dance, the sound of your guys’s passionate gasps and moans filling the room.

"Harder, Tyler," you moan, your body craving much more. "Fuck me harder."

Tyler obliges, his movements becoming more urgent as he plunges into you again and again. The room echos with the sounds of your carnal coupling, the air heavy with the scent of sex.

Your body coils tight once more, climbing towards another orgasm. "I'm gonna cum again," you cry out, voice hoarse. "Don't stop, Tyler, please don't stop."

Tyler grunts his response, his own orgasm building. He reaches between their bodies, his fingers finding your slightly swollen clit and rubbing it in circles. It was all the stimulation you needed, and with a shout of release, you shatter into pieces, juices flooding around Tyler's hard cock.

Feeling you contracting around him, Tyler finally let go, thrusting deeply into you. Moaning into your ear as he spilled his seed, filling you with his warmth. You both cling to each other, breathing coming in ragged gasps as the two of you ride out the waves of your shared ecstasy. Collapsing onto the bed, bodies still joined, Tyler rolls onto his back, bringing your exhausted body with him so laying sprawled on top of him.

"Damn, Y/N," he murmured, running his hand through your mildly tangled hair. "You're something else."

You smile, feeling utterly sated and content. "And don't you forget it, cowboy," you reply, planting a lazy kiss onto his bare chest.

a/n (again): sorry just wanted to say that I’m working on making some more twisters smut, but i also have top gun maverick smut if y’all wanna check that out 😝🙏

#smut #tyler owens #twisters #twisters 2024 #glenn powell #glen powell #Tyler owens reader #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x y/n #tyler owens x you #tyler owens x reader smut #tyler owens x you smut #twisters2024 glen powell

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ythankucaptainmccoy · 5 months ago

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Tyler Owens x Reader (Oneshot)

Alright here ya go guys a Tyler Owens oneshot! WARNINGS: Attempted Assault and Major Fluff (Also Tyler Owens being the protective man we know he would be)

The Oklahoma skyline was beautiful as you got your van ready to go. You had gone storm chasing with your uncle when you were younger and he passed all of his stuff to you. When your parents had died you didn’t know what to do with yourself, but your uncle had swooped in and started teaching you about weather. He taught you everything you knew, but he had gotten to a point where he could no longer keep up. So here you were in your small travel van setting up your equipment.

The weather was predicted to produce some tornadoes today. Watching the radar you could see a very strong looking storm forming and from where you were you could tell this one was going to be a good one. You packed everything in the van quickly and headed towards the storm. Your job was to photograph the storms and sell your photos to news outlets and things of that nature as well as selling the photos that didn’t make the cut online for a little extra cash.

You had set up at a perfect spot and started taking pictures as the funnel started to come down. The pictures were soon to be ruined as you heard a familiar song blaring from a red truck. Tyler fucking Owens ruining another photo op for you. He pulled up beside you with the radio blaring. “Howdy (Y/N) fun day for storms!”, he yelled before speeding off. You didn’t want to edit your photos as you wanted them to be genuine.

You walk back to your van and sit watching as Tyler takes off towards the tornado as per usual. The rest of the day continued like this and by the time you pulled into the motel parking lot other storm chasers had taken it over. You got a room and pulled your ringing phone out of your pocket. “Hello?”, you answered. “Hi (Y/N) this is Pam with the publishing market we were wondering when the next set of photos would be coming in. The deadline is tonight and we haven’t received any photos”, she explains.

“I understand. I do have some photos that I can send over of the storms and the beginnings of the tornadoes”, you state. “Well we were hoping to have fully formed tornadoes for some magazine covers. A partially formed tornado or the beginning of the storm is not what we are looking for. Like I said, the deadline is tonight. If you can’t deliver the photos we are looking for we will have to find another photographer. I have to go. Goodbye”, Pam said as she hung up.

If looks could kill your phone would have combusted right there in your hand as you walked through the parking lot to your room. “Oh (Y/N). Pretty good tornadoes today”, Tyler called to you. “I wouldn’t know”, you huffed. “How could you not? There was one right after the other today”, Boone said. “Oh I don’t know I haven’t been able to photograph any without that eyesore of a truck getting into any of my shots”, you state angrily. “You know they have photoshop these days”, Tyler said.

“Except in order to get paid by the publishing market they have to be unaltered, but you YOUTUBERS wouldn’t know anything about that. Not that it matters because the deadline was tonight”, you seethed. Tyler’s team looked at each other at your outburst. You turned to leave as you could feel the angry tears forming and headed toward your room. The shower helped calm you down as you knew that the cash online wouldn’t be enough to keep funding your chasing.

You were going to have to call an end to your season before it truly started. Tyler and his crew didn’t mean any harm and you felt bad for taking your frustration out on his team. That night you scrounged some photos you had taken last year and sent them in hoping they would take them. Your phone rang and this time it was your uncle so you answered it. “Hey how’s my tornado photographer doing?”, he asked. “It’s going great. Lots of great storms today”, you said.

“So are you going back out tomorrow?”, he asked. “Yeah hoping to see some great tornadoes tomorrow”, you sigh. “You didn’t get any photos today that you needed for the publisher did you?”, he questioned. “No, the deadline was tonight. I sent in some photos I had taken last year so hopefully they will work, but I doubt it”, you reply. “Do you need any money? I can wire you some if you need it”, he told you.

“No I have enough and besides all I need to do is get some awesome shots and next thing you know they will be begging to use my photos”, you say. “Well if you need anything don’t hesitate to call”, he tells you. “I will. I’ll talk to you later. Night”, you say. He bids you goodnight and hangs up. You feel like you had failed your uncle since he couldn’t do the whole storm chasing anymore, but also because you knew that you only had enough money to make it to the end of the week.

Sleep didn’t come easy that night, but when your alarm went off the next morning you hit the road. Stopping at a gas station to grab some coffee to wake you up you spotted Tyler and his group coming in as well. You continued to watch the radar while sipping your coffee. Boone waved at you which you returned as he was sweet as could be. On the other hand when Tyler waved you just rolled your eyes and went back to watching the radar.

Your laptop alerted to an email and you knew exactly what it was, but pulled it into your lap and opened it. Sure enough an email from the publishers informing you that the deadline wasn’t met and that you were technically out of a job. You groaned in frustration as you were now very much screwed. Then as if your day couldn’t get worse you spotted your ex best friend with another storm chasing team. She was more about the glamor of storm chasing than the feel and beauty of storm chasing.

She started walking over to you and you put on a fake smile as she approached. “I can’t believe you’re here”, she says loudly. “Yepp here I am”, you respond. “I thought you would have run out of money already”, she laughs. “Well I’m a scrapper I’ll be here as long as the storms are”, you reply. “Well I got a call from the publishers and they decided to pick my pictures for their magazines”, she flaunted. She knew that it was your dream to become a world renowned storm photographer.

“That’s great”, you replied. “Oh my team is coming back I gotta go”, she announced. She went back to her group as you fought the anger that was brewing. You had been best friends for years, but when the Twisted Gang leader asked her to join them and be his girlfriend she left you in the dust. You had no idea that Tyler heard the whole conversation and that you had lost your job essentially. A storm was forming as you packed up the rest of your gear and headed out.

You had better luck today than before as this tornado you were able to get great shots of. The whole day was perfect as you snapped photo after photo of the tornadoes, but then by the late afternoon there was that eyesore of a truck in the way. The pictures you had would be great to get you off the ground with the publishers so you called it a day. You checked your bank account and decided to sleep in your van since you had a shower last night.

You emailed the publishers, but they replied that they had found another source. You were disappointed as you willed the tears away. You were just going to have to try harder tomorrow and get the perfect shots. You were setting up the small awning/tent your uncle had gifted you for your birthday up when Tyler and his crew pulled into the lot. You hadn’t eaten since that morning, but you had gone over numbers in your head and decided skipping meals today would extend the money a little bit.

You watched as Boone set up a small grill then Tyler took over the cooking for the group. You pulled out your sketchbook and started to sketch Tyler and the rest of his group. It had been a hobby of yours when you and your uncle had strom chases in the past. Tyler would glance at you every once in a while watching you work trying to figure out what you were working on. You had to admit that Tyler was handsome as much as he could be a pain.

You were almost finished when you saw Boone heading towards you. “Hey the group wanted to know if you wanted to join us for dinner”, he said. You were about to say no until you saw his puppy look and agreed to come over. “Well look who decided to join us”, Tyler joked. “I only came over because Boone is too convincing and there was free food”, you snarked. Tyler’s smile only widened as you pulled out your sketchbook again.

Tyler and Boone worked effortlessly to plate food and distribute it. You had just finished your sketch as Tyler walked over with a plate for you. “What ya workin’ on?”, he asks. “Oh just a sketch nothing more”, you reply as you take the plate and dig in. Tyler snatches the sketchbook as you try to protest when he lands on the page you were just working on. He admires the sketch, but he can’t help but notice how much detail you have put into him in this sketch. You had captured him perfectly in the moment as he looked at you.

“(Y/N) this is amazing”, he admires. “Thanks”, you whisper. Once you were done eating you thanked the Tornado Wrangler’s team and headed for your van. You pulled some covers out and put a chair up. The night was startinging to get cold as you wrapped your blanket around yourself. You weren’t asleep for long when the wind started to pick up and it started raining hard. You frantically start packing everything away into the van, but by the time you got everything in you were already soaked to the bone.

You climbed in and pulled the side door shut as the rain hit hard. The rain didn’t seem like it would be stopping any time soon so you decided to run for the small vending machines under the balcony of the second story motel. You had just got your soda and sat there for a minute as the air seemed to get colder. “Hi honey want to come in and get warm?”, a voice called out. The man standing in the doorway of his motel room was disheveled and greasy looking. “No thanks I’m good”, you responded. He walked out of his room and approached you as you tried to stay some distance away from him.

“Look I’m not interested”, you say loudly. It was late and no one was in the parking lot with this type of rain. “Look I think I could warm you up come on”, the guy said creepily. “I said I’m good”, you said even louder. He was getting too close as you told him to back off and when he grabbed you pushing you against the wall you screamed. “SHUT UP”, he bellowed. You didn’t as his other hand went to your chest. A blur to your left caught you off guard as a resounding thud filled your ears and the man that was holding you against the wall went flying.

When your brain caught up you realized the man had been punched, and when you look to your left Tyler stands there like a raging bull. His nostrils flare as the heat in his gaze tells you all you need to know that he is angry. He strides forward grabbing the man by the shoulder and pulling him up and pushing him against the wall. “How does it feel, jackass”, Tyler growled. You stood there as he held the man against the wall and punched him again.

“Tyler”, you whispered. He hit the man again before you found your voice again, “Tyler!”. He stopped and turned toward you to take you in making sure you weren’t hurt. “If you ever touch ‘er again I’ll kill ya’ understand”, Tyler drawled. He threw the man to the ground and made his way over to you. “Are you okay?”, he asked. You nodded as a shiver ran through your body. “I’ll walk you back to your room”, he says. “Oh I’m staying in my van”, you respond.

Tyler looks as if you slapped him with your confession. “No you’re not sleeping in that van. You can stay with me. You can take a shower and have the bed. I’ll take the floor”, he says. You don’t even get to protest as he starts walking you towards his room. Once in the room Tyler goes into the bathroom to start the shower as the realization hits you that that man could have done something horrible to you had it not been for Tyler.

You slid to the floor as the first choked sob hit you. Tyler must have heard it because he was kneeling in front of you cupping your face into his hands. “I got ya’ (Y/N). You’re alright sweetheart”, he soothed. “He could have…have..”, you hiccuped. “No sweetheart I’d never let that happen to ya’ just breathe for me”, he tried. He let you cry as he pulled you up and helped you into the bathroom to let you sit on the sink.

He waited until you had stopped crying as you became silent. “The shower is hot and here are a pair of sweats, t-shirt and hoodie if you want it”, he tells you. “I’ll be right outside this door if you need me sweetheart”, he tells you. You nod at him as he closes the door leaving you alone in the bathroom. You shed your wet clothes and climb into the hot shower as it chases some of the chill from you. After getting done you dry off and pull on all of the clothes he had left you pulling a hoodie that swallowed you and smelled like Tyler over your head.

You quickly style your hair and walk into the main room as Tyler was making a small cot on the floor. “You don’t have to sleep on the floor. I don’t mind sharing the bed. I trust you”, you tell him. He seems to deliberate his options as you wait for him to decide. “After you then”, he says. You climb in as he waits for you to get settled then climbs into his side. “Thank you”, you say softly. “You’re welcome sweetheart”, he replied.

You were shivering within a few minutes and Tyler noticed. “Come ‘ere I’m not gonna’ let ya’ freeze tonight”, he says. He lays on his side and pulls you to his chest as you look up at him. “You know you’re nothing like what the other chasers say you are”, you say. “Well I appreciate it”, he chuckles. You take him in and realize even with how much you bickered with him or fought over his eyesore of a truck getting in your photos you had fallen for him.

Tyler furrows his brows as you bring your hand up and trace his lips with your fingers. His breath seems to catch as you take in his facial features before you come back to his eyes that you swear can see straight to your soul. Without hesitating you slowly lean up towards him to give him plenty of time to back out, but he stays pupils dilating slightly in the glow of the lamp on the table beside the bed.

You close your eyes as does he as your lips meet. Tyler lets you lead as you test the waters by nipping at his bottom lip. He smiles then and presses his lips a little harder against yours then full on kisses the breath out of you. When you both pull away you're both smiling and Tyler reaches up to place a strand of hair behind your ear. You both share some more kisses until Tyler cuts you off. “I’m a gentleman and I think that’s enough for tonight. Another thing you’re riding with us tomorrow and no protests. I’m going to help you get your job back”, he tells you.

You sleep like a rock that night in Tyler’s arms and the next morning he wakes you. The Tornado Wrangler team watches as you walk to your van dressed in Tyler’s clothes with little smiles of their own. When you come back with your camera Tyler lets the team know you would be joining them for the day. Tyler made sure to drive you right up and into some of the tornadoes giving you amazing shots that were guaranteed to get your job back. Tyler was smiling and happy as you rode shotgun as Boone would load the rockets in the back seat.

As the team took a break Tyler watched you from a distance playing with your camera. He had to admit he loved when you would call his truck an eyesore and go toe to toe with him. He wanted to hear your voice more often and see your smile. “I’m gonna’ aske ‘er to join the team”, Tyler tells Boone. “I like her already so you know I don’t have a problem”, Boone says. The other team members agree as Tyler announces it’s time to roll as another cell starts to look better by the minute.

By the end of the day you submit your photos and receive an immediate response. The job was yours again and you ran to tell Tyler. In your excitement you run and tackle him in a hug that ends with you both crashing to the ground. “I got my job back”, you exclaim. “That’s amazing I knew you could do it sweetheart”, he tells you. The other Wrangler team members turn away as if they found something better to do as Tyler pulled you down to kiss him. “Chase with us. With me?”, Tyler asked. You sat there stunned for a moment and then you nodded saying yes. Tyler was excited to bring you into the fold. “Even if you have to ride in my truck”, he jokes. “I’ll follow you and that eyesore anywhere”, you reply as you share a kiss there in the parking lot.

#twisters #tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #tornado wrangler

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themareverine · 12 days ago

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Bond Girl, part 1 | patch!Logan x fem!reader | themareverine + bpmiranda

synopsis: the first adjective that leapt to mind the second she’d seen such a thing—obscene. like bait from the possession of man everyone here knew to more vile than any beautiful thing could be. because, if Logan is anything, it’s beautiful. and his taste in jewelry? immaculate.

warnings: patch!Logan, flirting, suggestive themes, part 1 of a co-written little thing with @bpmiranda (surprise!), casino atmosphere, booze, gambling, language, nameless!fem!reader but mentions of curls and blue eyes, ⚠︎.

a/n: save me, Patch!Logan, save me! I can't get away from this idea and my absolutely insatiable lust for this man, ROFL. this idea hit me the other day and after conversing with @bpmiranda, I knew we had to write this. big thanks for her for 1) being phenomenal, 2) listening to my ramblings, 3) jumping on my Patch train, and 4) deciding to collab! ahhhh! my part is done, but hers is coming and will, most likely, be NSFW and probably SO FAR AND AWAY BETTER. and yes i got carried away with context what else is new ROFL get on our taglists for updates!

➜ bpmiranda’s part 2 ⋆｡˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ✧.*

She isn’t usually one to go for something so—obscene.

Not that the idea of fine jewelry, really, should be considered obscene. It’s honestly an insult, something so beautiful tethered to a negative connotation. It was the farthest thing from obscene. Just simply the first adjective that leapt to mind the second she’d seen it, dangling elegantly like bait from the possession of man everyone in here knew to be more vile than any beautiful thing could be.

Because, if Logan is anything, it’s beautiful—and his taste in accessories? Immaculate.

“It’s too expensive,” the absolute glint that passed through his eyes sparkled almost as clearly as the stone, catching light like starlight coupled, somehow, with sun, “you really shouldn’t have, Logan.” Cool against the flaming embarrassed scarlet chasing up her neck, he was deliberately slow. Rough hands skipping along her décolletage sent shivers down the length of her spine, numb beneath the wolfish gaze staring back at her in the mirror. Fingers reaching to brush along the face of the stone, it felt heavy.

“I didn’t,” he sounded so pleased with him, chuckling in that low way that sent her brain pulsing, “poor bastard’s wife is probably pissed, huh?” His hands are more caring than she ever thought possible, clasping the necklace into place. Watching her swallow her own breath, her eyes only skip up to his when his hands find the back of her chair, leaning forward to brush his mouth along the shell of her ear.

“Can’t imagine it lookin’ as good on anyone else as it does you, sugar.”

At least two carats, it’s basically a small nucleus of sunlight, sparkling against her pale décolletage, its radiance only challenged by the offset of what she can only assume is a platinum bezel. Gently rubbing the stone between her fingers, she releases a slow breath that shakes more than she would’ve liked, but comes from her core. His hand brushing along the strap of an equally breathtaking gown only exaggerates her inability to breathe evenly, and she swears to God the color racing up her neck deepens.

“You won this?” turning in her seat, she gently pushes him back with a hand to his chest. “In cards? You always play for cash,” without flinching, she probes for an answer—Logan never bets collateral. He always plays for money, or, on occasion, information. It was how she’d come to know Patch—the man of Madripoor. In all her months of watching him play, she’d only ever seen him accept collateral one other time, and she protected the Van Cleef bracelet on her arm nearly with her life. “It has to be worth a small fortune,” quietly she turned back to the mirror, slightly entranced by its brilliance.

He chuckled, “Not small enough,” his finger brushes a tendril of curl hanging from the simple pins at the base of her neck, “Wasn’t thinkin’ about how much it cost, sweetheart. Too busy imaginin’ you wearin’ it to bed,” His hands skim down the neckline of the dress, an elegant yellow satin slip cut dangerously up the thigh, thin and leaving mostly nothing to imagination, “but I guess this’ll do for now, hm?”

Willpower of the gods had somehow propelled her out the chair, hand in his as he’d tugged her against his chest. Arms fortressing around her softness, holding her closer than sin. She finds herself lost under the heavy of his gaze, even as her fingers trail up the sleeves of his suit jacket. Crisp as snow, it cuts him perfectly, as if designed for him and him alone. He’s warm, chasing away the slightly chill that pebbles the skin of her arms, the A/C of the hotel suite more tangible than ever.

“For now,” she’d echoed with a small smile, amusement passing through her tone. “Maybe if you’re good, I’ll ask you about that active imagination of yours later.” Hand finding his cheek, she guided him into a slow, unhurried kiss. “You feel lucky tonight, Lo?” Words murmuring against his lips, his head angled to deepen the kiss, slanting his mouth over hers.

His chuckle was light, entertained as his fingers traced along the straps at the back of her dress, “Ain’t about feelin’ lucky, sugar,” tipping her chin up, he smiled at her darkly. “But if it makes you feel better, you bet.”

Absolutely obscene.

He’s still as perfect now as he had been hours before, draping a once-in-a-lifetime diamond around her neck, sitting in the low haze hovering in a smothering, thin veil about their casino’s air. Their casino—the gambling house they’d called home for the entirety of her sojournings at his side. Walls and floors that knew their secrets, hallways that saw parts of them no human, probably, ever would.

Madripoor was beautiful, a stunning land with its own cultures rich with wonder and charms untouchable to nearly sunlight—it was not a difficult place to land, to count off the fingers of time. Especially for a man burying secrets in shallow graves of earth and unknowns. Abundant with vibrant color, pulsing atmosphere and the adrenaline of living, its wellspring of anonymity was wanting, attractive in a way any other nowheresville wasn’t. Logan had established himself as a man of countenance in these streets, specifically this house—a man of power, strength. Gall, courage. Unkillable, untouchable, wholly wondrous.

Countenance. His reputation preceded him—whether as a badge of honor, a curse of death, or a last-nail coffin truly, honestly, depended on whom one would ask. Bodies jumped under tables beneath the steel of his gaze, the earth opened up to consume lesser beings. Flurry of opinion wasn’t uncommon, if you asked around the shadows and dripping neon of the city— bodies in this quarter of the city produced a cocktail of options for poison. Akin to asking which band champions in NOLA at the height of Mardis Gra, the hair of the dog hours—good thoughts weren’t anorexic around here, weren’t starving for air to give them life.

All had an opinion. Scant few actually held water.

Madripoor trembled with the respect wise men hold for phantom’s when he strode into a room. People knew, just from him cutting the doorway of the casino floor, that “Patch” was not an easy dance. Garnered a respect she’d never seen so freely offered to anyone else, dignitaries were not so often well noticed. Logan half expected the room to whip around to eyeball him he was so aware of his own presence, but not in the way one would think—not in the sense of ego or pedestal, high-horses. Never.

“Same feelin’ you get shiverin’ down your back when you think you're bein’ watched, sugar—just the way it goes when guys like me make an entrance.”

Logan rarely made an entrance—Patch, even less so. Exits were more his thing, honestly.

But far and away, Madripoor had signed and delivered its standing opinion on the man with an patch, the man from the north—the man nobody could touch, whose face shadows didn’t find. For four decades he’s been frequentlying this place, blowing in and out like the steam over bayous and still water, never aging a day. Always stalking, always collected. In blood it screamed, up and down the streets, this province’s opinion—You bet on Patch, and you have your man.

And tonight is no different. While Logan may not be an easy man to dissect with discernments, he is an easy bet. Easier, yet, to watch. Even at the bar, across the floor—where light is golden and soft, the air is thick with smoke. Music that has been hastened for generations spins through the air like dreams, summoning atmosphere and charm into the room like a sweeping arch of divinity.

It had become some kind of twisted religion, almost worship. Watching him rake fools over hot coals at this same casino table, when starlight strikes and the sun drips from the sky like slow poison. It’s like a killing hour, almost—the scent of blood and money hang in the air like calling cards, tantalizing sirens. It is the same dance, similar songs each night they grace this room—Logan seats himself at the card table. He orders whiskey, a cosmopolitan for her. Lights a cigar, asks the floor manager for a tab. Taps the corner of his mouth with a thick finger for her kiss, kisses her harder than she would expect from him—takes cash he slips into the neckline of her dress, “You keep here, darlin’, and also like always, he’ll take her chin between calloused fingertips, “gotta keep my lucky little thing closeby—’ma jealous fuck, sugar. Don’t go runnin’ off.” And the answer is always the same—

“Where else would I be?”

Certainly nowhere else could hook, line, sink her soul like that little quicksilver of a smile he throws at her—the way his gaze rakes over her frame, dissecting every bend and curve like a creature worth studying. Like he hasn’t known every part of her, explored each plane and territory of her skin, her soul. Logan has known her up until the half of her soul, possesses parts of her she’ll never return to—he takes more than money, on nights when he looks at her like this. More than information or courage or a man’s dignity—he takes her. Everything she possesses, balances it between his fingers, bleeding and raw, like it is a plaything and circus.

And really, she thinks, there could be no better thing under the sun.

At some point in all of this, she’d wondered, early on, if it would be like this, always. Running with him. Stalking lines, scouting out survival and nexts—spidering in gigs only to feast on the blood of the innocent unsuspecting. Vampires of opportunity, of fortune. She’d learned in short shit that, while the game is always the same, the wonder was in the stakes—it’s never about the game.

Balance of power is always found in what one is willing to lose in the chance to gain.

“Something new, mi encanto?”

Her chair sings a little as she adjusts to swivel back around to the bar, smile soft as she considers the surprise glass of something slipping her direction across an elegant, seen-everything bar. Warm eyes consider her, Dominic’s expression soft and entertained as he stereotypically slaps his rag over his shoulder, driving home a subliminal point.

Canting her head softly to the side, she dips her finger into the crystalline booze, allowing it to gently float around the cool zing of alcohol and promise of a buzz that will warm her spine. Her finger gently traces the rim of the fine glassware, gaze tracking to the clock above the bar. It’s been two hours—two hours parked at the bar in a dress the color of sunlight, watching. Drawing the attention of every dick and eye this place produces. A pretty sentinel over the reputation and suppositions of a man rumored more to be a god than mortal, she’s little more than a trophy in this room—Logan’s trophy. Patch’s pretty little thing.

Hardly more than eye candy, little less than pornographic imagery—she’d quelled a few looks of new faces unaccustomed to the goings-on of this house, of its finer workings. Didn’t take much more than a sharp lift of her leg over the other, a nod of her chin towards the table—rare cases demanded she actually leave her perch at the bar and make an effort to fill in the program gaps. Coming up along his chair, lingering touches on his chest and shoulder—the occasional slow, sloppy kiss between hands of poker, blackjack. Little else drove the point home so deeply, coffins and nails.

She’d only ever been broached by the brave who had never returned—most were warned. If not by circumstance, then by Magnolia y Pecado staff—she was off the table. A no-go. Off limits. Hands off, don’t touch the pretty thing who parts her legs for the man everyone in Madripoor knows as Patch. If they only knew of him what she does, they’d think so differently.

‘All bets off when you’re mine, sugar.”

“Gracias, Dominic.”

She doesn’t ask what it is, Dominic understands her taste. Quite the working relationship they’d developed over the months of her making this bar her second home. Always thrilled to see her but rarely surprised, Dominic worked twelve hour days. Five daughters, his adorable, busy-bee and as-sweet-as-honey wife expecting a hopeful son—the only friends she had in the city. Inés was responsible for half of her wardrobe decisions, much of her makeup. Often her rambunctious gaggle of ribbons-and-curls girls ran about this casino during business hours, passing time in the pool, in the gardens.

Glass chilled between her fingers, she takes a light sip of the cocktail, brow lifting as the tropical kick spins around her tongue in a lovely zing that makes her smile. Lifting it, she takes a bolder sip, “That’s brilliant, Dominic,” her smile grows, and she wrinkles her nose, “what is it?”

He chuckled, “Jungle bird,” beginning to vigorously rub at a stain in the grains of the wood, “clarificada—clear. Mi amor’s only drink,” winking at her, his smile is bright but quickly fades as his eye moves over her shoulder, tracking movement.

All too suddenly, Dominic’s spine towers tall. Heart skipping for only a second, his movements become cut, slow. When he nods across the floor, chin lifting as his hands begin flying beneath the bar—effortlessly, she knows he prepares the familiar short glass. A distraction, certainly, but calculated. She’d never understand his practiced anticipation of needs, but forever appreciate them, “Problema, mi Cariño,” his eyes cut over to her sharply, long pouring a multiple-seconds finger of Redbreast, “looks as if there’s trouble, Miss Patch.”

Miss Patch. Common amongst the staff, it carried a responsibility she wrestled with more than she’d be willing to admit—belonging to someone was a place she’d never imagined for herself, much less Logan, but the irony isn’t lost on her, either. Everything she’d never thought for herself, everything she’d ever fantasized in high fantasy and dreams—all one ball of wax, a bed of roses.

Name not lost, her stomach flares with a pinprick of alarm, heat spreading through her blood despite the pebbles of chill racing across her skin. Glancing over her shoulder, she tucks her chin. Tracking, eyes skirting the game currently underway at the long, gorgeous felt table. Remnant’s of Dominic’s Jungle Bird sings on her tongue, punching low in her stomach a sort of sweet that almost stings, watching Logan at the head of the table begin slipping out of his expensive suit jacket.

The slightest glance over his shoulder is all the greenlight she needs, dark hair glinting almost sapphire under the right lights, the trembling wire of tension in the air. Nearly misses his hand at the side of the chair, fingers snapping for her to come hither.

Taking the Redbreast between her fingers, her own drink in hand, her little sigh is amused. Follows a light chuckle, there’s a breathlessness she can’t quite put a finger on. The idea of being summoned isn’t all that distasteful—it’s wicked, what it does to the depths of her womb.

“And there’s my cue.” The smile she cuts to Dominic is wry, words dismissive, almost airy—something is off at the table. She can see it in the shifting eyes of the men across the felt, the way Logan rolls a shoulder.

Steely tension snaps at the air like a rabid wolf, hungry and slavering as it devours any sense of control she feels, usually, with the man she knows as Wolverine so near to heart. Usually he keeps a good handle on things—and he maybe does, maybe this is deliberate. But the precipice feels shaky, being on the outside looking in— like balancing on a livewire above swirling oceans.

Slipping from her stool, her hand smooths over the satin of the gown, bending slightly to straighten material teasing the floor around her feet in a tastefully cocktail, elegant train. Foot over foot she minds the height of her heels, floorspace between the bar and table vanishing beneath her approach.

Another small drink, eyes drifting over the table—her nail gently ting, ting, tings against his glass between loose fingers. Meeting the gaze of men whose attention lifts to her arriving at Logan’s side is easy, all she has to do is offer a teasing, flirtatious upturn of his lips. Of doe-eyed light and oh, hi. Easily she offers the cool Redbreast, gently nudging it against the back of his hand as her hip comes to rest against his chair—Logan’s attention doesn’t cut from the study of his cards, brow lifted, easily.

Unmoving, chuckling across the table lifts her gaze over the rim of her glass as she teases her drink for a second time. “My my, Patch, my friend — pretty little thing you’ve got there, at your beck and call,” she sums him up quickly, falling back in his chair. Shifting his hips forward, like he’s got a twitch in his dick at the sight of her dipping backline, “You are one surprising sonuvabitch, I’ll give you that.” Wolf whistle off his words accompany the shake of his head, eyes lingering over the curve of her hip longer than necessary. “Pretty things here, in Madripoor—where can I find one’a you, honey?”

“Didn’t think there were any more like me,” she counters with a little giggle, winking at him. Her hand comes to rest on Logan’s shoulder, tracing the hard line of muscle beneath his milkwhite shirt. Teases along until her hand gently curves along his chest, between the unfastened buttons, “Thought I was limited edition.” Dropping low, her lipstick catches the bristle of Logan’s beard in a slow, heavy kiss to his jawline, sharp eyes holding the man fully entranced with her show across the felt of the table, “Gotta pay to play, huh, baby?”

Bodies around the table shift uncomfortably, the man to Logan’s left practically on the verge of either an aneurysm or cardiac arrest, either is possible considering the size of his beer gut and the unhealthy sweat soaking into the band of his Stetson hat—Texas, mogul. Married, probably. Or at least feeling a level of guilt. The man to their right, complete in a look that’s so Miami it hurts—designer white pants, loafers. What appears to be a silk shirt tucked in, unbuttoned, in a flamingo pink that’s so ambitious it makes her smile. She couldn’t even determine his eye color, his eyes were still welded on the swell of her ass.

They’re so easy, men. One look at a pretty thing, a little batting of the eyes — they were so painfully predictable, Logan had been right. He’d taught her everything about this game, this back-and-forth. How to make them drool, how to make them ache, to worship at her feet. The perfect equalizer, the best distraction—give them what they don’t know they want, “And all their walls come crumblin’ down, honey—that’s what you do.” If he weren’t a better man—if Logan weren’t hers, he’d be eating out her palm just as much as any of them.

But she belonged to him, a tight leash she shortened seemingly by night.

“All depends on the game,” he bites at his lower lip, “what’s my grand prize, mi amor?” He butchers Spanish almost as badly as he butchers atmospheres, and it would make her chuckle, the way he masks his obvious desire behind a hand rubbing around his mouth. Instead it just makes her roll her eyes, tease her nails along Logan’s chest hair carefully beneath his shirt. Heat pummels off of him like a locomotive, even with his jacket shedded. “You like to play games, do ya, sweet thing?”

Logan’s gaze snaps up from his cards, viciously. Beastially.

“Easy, bub. Ain’t nice to fuck with another man’s property.”

It rumbles low, wolfishly in his chest. Sharp chill launches down her spine like a needle, injecting poisons into her veins that begin to melt her self control. Logan rarely ever labeled her so basely in front of other men—it was not his routine. He had, in other times, when context demanded he whip out his dick for measure— she didn’t have details. Admittedly she’d been too distracted with Dominic and drink tasting throughout the night to pay attention to this game, to know if Logan had anything working over this gig. All she knew was from what little pillow talk he’d offered this morning, after burying his cock nearly to her ribs and rearranging her abdominal cavity.

Information. Information, baby—it’s all about connections. And oh—that’s right. It tracks around her brain in a sharp, white-hot loop. Information, Logan wants information.

A patch may well cover most of the animation of his eyes, but it is evident, the darkness—leers like a predator, hunting. Watching. The corner of his mouth ticks up, muscle in his jaw pulling as he eases back into his chair, loosens a shoulder. Logan may as well scent this man’s blood and call it a day, she thinks, but instead his quicksilver smile grows as the man puts down his cards in front of him, resting elbows on the table.

“Ease up there, ace,” his hands open in a slow arc of easy, I’m-just-playing settle-down, “Only teasin’.” His accent is remarkably unbalanced, a little of something she doesn’t know, more of a part of the world she’d never heard. Logan takes his drink from her hand, tosses it back sharply, and the glass finds the table with a harder-than-necessary crack, “You payin’ to see my cards or what, old man?”

“Keep your dick on, would ya?” Logan grabs her hand from between the buttons of his shirt, prompts her forward with a sharp tug, Jungle Bird in her hand upset like a child’s bathwater. And before she can think, Logan’s big hand grabs her chin tightly between thick fingers, “Kiss for luck, sugar?” His breath hot with whiskey sends her reeling, heat between her legs an inferno only ever matched at Vesuvius.

God he was hot when he was pissed off and all possessive.

A little nod of her head ticks up the corner of his mouth, his eye tracking down to the perfect curve of her mouth highlighted by lipstick the color of blood in her veins. A growling chuckle from the base of his ribs has him kissing her, deep and hard, tongue skipping along her bottom lip—in heartbeats he manages to make her breathless, every fiber burning as she shares his taste, allows him to rip a hungry little moan that knifes her right in the gut.

“Tastes good,” he murmurs against her lips, “you’re doin’ so good.”

Unsure whether to thank or bite him, she manages a small smile against his mouth while her hand skips low, to the low heat between his legs. Nursing a semi nobody would ever suspect from otherworldly levels of cool-as-a-cucumber, her nails gently bite into the meat of his thigh. For a second his hiss skips her pulse, suddenly at a loss against his mouth.

Collecting quickly, “Trust me, baby,” and she adds the bite she knows he loves to her touch, “I know.”

If anyone heard his barely-there, punched out groan, hell would sooner freeze. Satisfied with himself, he breaks first, giving her cheeks a rough squeeze before lightly shoving her away. A little proud, mostly for show. He’s mean in the best way possible, in the way she’s come to lust for. Treating her like a brat, worshipping the ground beneath her feet—it’s a delicate tango they do on the blades of alias and fun, of future and fortune. She’d come to crave it, a high she’d never escape. Laces adrenaline through her like a freight train, feels safe and dangerous all in one big ball of inexplicable, never-want-to-leave way.

Swiping at the lipstick a kiss on his cheek has left behind, she throws an easy glance across the table to the three men who stare, nearly agog, at her. “Best of luck, gentlemen,” bending to kiss Logan’s cheek with a mock sugar sweetness almost too saccharine to be true, she tosses back the rest of her Jungle Bird.

“May the odds be never in your favor.”