#even if they were really they’d never pick me

[msschemmenti]

the bravo forum

melissa schemmenti x reader

a/n: the people have spoken— here is my contribution to the melissa schemmenti x reader community based on a crack idea from my notes app. bare with me, this is not edited and probably pretty bad-- but fuck it we ball ig. i also couldn't think of a name for this like at all. my tiktok fyp sort of throttled me into all things reality tv and that sparked this idea. also if you liked this feel free to check out my lisa ann walter masterlist for some of my older stuff.

”So now no one knows if they’re coming back or if they’re gonna pull a New York Housewives and just start over.” Melissa huffed over her shoulder to Barbara. 

“Girlfriend, I told you, I don’t know these people, and I don’t care.”  

Melissa watched as Barb entered the school ahead of her and shook her head. She really shouldn’t be surprised. Her work wife had always been very clear about her feelings when it came to the Housewives. And Melissa had tried to get her hooked. They’d tried every franchise and all she got from Barb was a disgruntled scolding for caring so much about these random women and their woes. Melissa can even recall Barbara advising her to pick up the Bible if she wanted to follow the trials and tribulations of someone she would talk about. 

Melissa wasn’t normally someone who participated in any discussions about the things she enjoyed. She liked what she liked and anyone who didn’t agree with her could kick rocks. But letting Jacob move in had really changed the way she consumed media. She and the history teacher would come home from work, crack open a bottle, and go to town judging the various players in their programs. With him around, discussion became the norm. And now that he’s moved out, she’s sorta missing that community. Not that she’d admit it to anyone. 

She bound into the teacher’s lounge, putting her lunch away and settling in her seat for the news like she did every morning. Jim Gardner was the only man she wanted to start her morning with. Midway through the program, excited voices floated through the swinging door. 

“I’m telling you— they’re married. She won’t say anything but there’s no way they’re just girlfriends.” Both veteran teachers turned their heads at the newcomers with frowns in place. Y/n, the newest edition to the Abbott staff, winced almost instantly under both Barbara and Melissa’s gaze and quickly mimed a zipper over her lips. Barb smiled gratefully and turned back to the television, but Melissa’s eyes lingered a bit longer as they always seemed to do when the younger woman entered the room. And hard as she tried to keep her glare in place— once the teacher went back to her conversation quietly the frown melted into something softer. Almost curious.

Y/n Y/ln was something of a hot-button topic for Melissa. She’d started at the beginning of the school year, taking on the higher-grade English duties upstairs. And everyone seemed to love her. She’d flown in the week before classes started with a bright smile and brownies for the teachers. She’d spent her first month covering recesses and lunch duties for absolutely anyone who asked. And had even worked her way into some after-school clubs. She was everywhere. And after five months at Abbott, she still carried herself with the same level of joy and excitement she’d started with. It was infuriating if you asked Melissa. And Barb had asked her before. It seemed the reasons everyone else gravitated toward the new teacher were the exact reasons Melissa claimed made her dislike her. She was a kiss-ass, a pushover, and far too happy in the morning to not be doing some kind of drug. But every time Barb grilled her about it she never mentioned how distractingly shiny her hair was. Or how expressive her eyes were when she spoke about literally anything. And she all but refused to even think about how her eyes seemed almost glued to her figure whenever they passed each other in the hall during the day. She just couldn’t allow it. And she definitely wasn’t watching this morning as Y/n filled her cup of coffee and then exited the lounge with another teacher to continue her conversation.

Once she’d left the room, Melissa’s attention turned back to the television as if nothing happened. But there was Barbara, lips pursed knowingly and eyebrows set in a challenge. 

“What?” Melissa asked, fighting the blush wanting to crawl up her neck. All Barb gave her in response was a pointed hum that told Melissa all she needed to know. She wasn’t fooling anybody.

-

“I can’t believe this is how you spend your free time. Here I was thinking you were reading Shakespearean Sonnets from three to eight when you actually just cyberbully Housewife fans.” Jacob laughed in disbelief as he leaned against the corner of Y/n’s desk. 

“Okay first of all— Eileen Davidson’s delivery of ‘How dare you?’ after being called a Beast by Kim Richards was very Shakespearean. And secondly, cyberbully is a very strong word. I’m simply engaging in dialogue with my fellow Real Housewives fans. It’s not my fault I’m good at reasoning and evidence. Argumentation was my jam in college.” Y/n explained with a smile. 

“So you’re saying you use your intelligence to cyberbully gay men and old ladies.” 

“How rude, the Bravo-verse is not just for gay men and old ladies. It’s for everyone. I don’t discriminate on the forums— I’m an equal opportunity bully.” 

“Huh, who knew there was such a sinister side to such a sweet woman.” 

Y/n shrugged, “I’m multi-dimensional. Anyway, I brought all this up to run my lesson idea by you. We’re doing a unit on dialogue and I really think with some appropriately placed censors we can make it work.” 

“Oh, That’s so engaging! And with so many franchises you can pull from quite a few scenes.” Jacob affirmed excitedly. 

“Exactly. And it gives me an excuse to talk about my favorite show on the job.” 

-

Lunch time came and the teachers found themselves in the lounge chatting idly at their assigned tables. Melissa’s glasses were perched on her nose as she scrolled through an article recounting the last episode. Jacob having leaned back in his chair, caught sight of the headline and instantly brightened. 

“Oh Mel Mel, have I got an opportunity for community for you!” 

Melissa slowly looked at the young man, unimpressed, “No thanks, I got more than enough community already.” 

Jacob sighed at the woman’s lack of enthusiasm but trudged on, sure this opportunity would be up her alley. “Well, I just thought you’d take to the idea of arguing with people anonymously about the Real Housewives. There’s apparently a whole world of people discussing your programs online and from what I’ve heard they need some strong opinions to balance out the nonsense. I just think it might be nice for you to have a space to freely share your questionable takes about these extremely vapid women every week. A community is waiting for you.” 

“Questionable takes? All of my takes are gold like my hatred for Eileen Davidson. That’s a very valid and based take. I’m always right. I don’t need no internet dummies telling me otherwise.”

“Well, when you realize I’m right and you start bullying randos online– I’ll be expecting a thank you.”

Melissa scoffed and watched as Jacob wrote the website down on a sticky note for her. “Huh, I’m sure you will be.” 

-

She really wasn’t planning on looking at the website. She had no reason to. She was completely content to live with her Housewives thoughts. But then the Real Housewives of New York reboot episode was absolutely insane. And she needed to know if she was the only one in complete disbelief at this Puerto Rico trip. She pulled the sticky note from her purse and cautiously typed it in. She would only look at what was being discussed. Just a little peek.

MisterBravo: Am I the only one who HATES Meredith and Heather this season? #RHOSLC

4:00 PM in Real Housewives Board

↳20 Replies to this post

MeredithApologist: YES! YOU ARE. 

HeathersReciepts: how can you hate the woman who brought us receipts, proof, timelines, screenshots?

Melissa chuckled quietly to herself as she read through the comments on the post. She hated to give Jacob any credit but this might actually be interesting. She continued to scroll until she found a recent post addressing the latest episode of RHONY. 

Bravoholic: Deciding to play devil’s advocate tonight after tonight’s most recent episode. What are our thoughts on the RHONY reboot cast so far? 

11:00 PM in Real Housewives Board

↳250 Replies to this post

She tapped into the replies and started skimming reactions. Lots of which she thought were stupid but not stupid enough to warrant a response of some kind. That was until she came across a crazy reply.

RepudiatedHousewives: Honestly, the trips just started and Brynn is already acting insane. Talk about a producer plant, am I right?

Now Melissa wasn’t a fan of Brynn but she also was smart enough to acknowledge Erin as a problem as well. Brynn didn’t stir things up all on her own. And also what kind of username is RepudiatedHousewives? Talk about pretentiousness. She couldn’t resist. She just had to respond.

RedHotPhilly11: repudiatedhousewives , you must be as pretentious and stupid as your username if you think Brynn is the only one producing this season. Erin is right there?

Y/n sat up immediately seeing the new reply flash across her screen. Pretentious and stupid? What the hell was this person’s beef? Brynn is a problematic producer plant, that’s just facts. So what if Erin gets wrapped up in her bullshit– she’s still better than Brynn. 

RepudiatedHousewives: RedHotPhilly11– i’m assuming you’ve got your looks going for you if you’re pulling Erin into Brynn’s evil. Erin’s not perfect but Brynn is obviously the bigger issue here. 

RedHotPhilly11: Yes, I’m hot. But that’s all you’re right about.

-

The forum shortly became Melissa’s most visited website. And she and this RepudiatedHousewives character loved going at it.

RHOAAddict: Rumor has it Phaedra Parks will be returning this season…thoughts on cast dynamics?

8:00 AM in Real Housewives Board

↳100 Replies to this post

RedHotPhilly11: Good! She’s kept Atlanta fun!

↳ RepudiatedHousewives: Incorrect– Bravo needs to make up with NeNe is they think they can save RHOA. Phaedra is actually a lawsuit waiting to happen. And she’d know, as a lawyer.

↳ RedHotPhilly11: Of course, you have so much to say. 

↳ RepudiatedHousewives: Careful RedHotPhilly11, if you keep this up I’ll start thinkin you like me

RHONYLover: Calling all historians, Who’s the biggest villain in RHONY History?

10:00 PM in Real Housewives Board

↳100 Replies to this post

RedHotPhilly11: Aviva Drescher. Only right answer.

↳ RepudiatedHousewives: Wrong. It’s Brynn Whitfield. 

↳ RedHotPhilly11: What are you, captain of the Brynn hate club?

↳ RepudiatedHousewives: Hell yeah! She won’t win in my lifetime.

↳ RedHotPhilly11: I feel like I have to admire your persistence but that feels to nice.

-

The morning after the finale episode of the season was a doozy. Both Melissa and Y/n had spent the evening going back and forth on the forum dissecting the drama that unfolded on screen. Other users had tried chiming into their conversation but both RedHotPhilly11 and RepudiatedHousewives refused to engage with anyone other than each other. And that energy seemed to carry into the teacher’s lounge that morning. Melissa was at her seat as usual, nursing her second cup of coffee as the news came to an end. And Y/n burst through the door with a sigh heading straight for the coffee machine. Her entrance obviously caught the attention of the other teachers but she was too busy mentally urging the coffee machine to brew faster to care. 

“Woah, Shakespeare what’s up with you?” Jacob asked, sliding up next to the woman with a frown. “You’re never down here this late.” 

“I had a rather late night so I decided to sleep in for a bit,” Y/n answered pulling the coffee to her chest with a sigh. 

“Oh yes, too busy cyberbullying to get a proper night’s sleep?” The history teacher poked. At his jovial tease, the other teachers seemed to tune in. All eager to learn more about the English teacher. 

“You cyberbully?” Janine asked incredulously from her spot next to Gregory. “That’s so mean, why would you do that?”

Y/n rolled her eyes and glared at Jacob pointedly before addressing Janine, “I do not cyberbully. I merely chat about television online. If people have bad opinions, I feel obligated to correct them.” 

“Oh right, season finale for RHONY was last night. I’m sure you were lighting that little forum up, huh?” 

“You know it. Although I’ve got this one person on the forum who replies to everything I post and we were going back and forth all night. They just know every button to push. Like last night, I was going off about the way Brynn was keke-ing with the producers after causing all that chaos the night before. A literal production plant! And then that RedHotPhilly11 comes in my replies arguing with me about facts! So we were going at it for quite a bit.” At Y/n’s words, Jacob’s eyes turned to Melissa curiously with a smile. Maybe the redhead had taken him up on his recommendation. And at her arched eyebrows and startled expression he was right.

“Wait a minute, you’re Repugnant Housewives?” Melissa’s hard voice piped in. 

Y/n’s eyes widened in confusion, “Um no, I’m Repudiatedhousewives. How do you even know that?” 

“Cause I’m the one pushing your buttons.”

”You’re RedHotPhilly11?” Y/n tilted her head in shock but that didn’t last long before a knowing smirk settled on her face. “Huh, now that I’m saying that out loud I’m not that surprised.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Melissa challenged, ready for another fight. Offline.

“You are hot.” Y/n shrugged easily. Everyone in the room seemed to freeze at her admission but she stood tall in her words and leveled Melissa with a knowing gaze. “What? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten our very first argument. Where you very boldly called my username pretentious and stupid.”

“Right right, and you said the only thing I had going for me was my looks,” Melissa smirked. 

“And your only reply was that you’re hot. Again, can’t argue with facts.” Y/n snickered. “Wow, I can’t believe that of all the people on that forum we’ve been sparing with each other for the last 5 weeks. I didn’t even know you watched the housewives.” 

“Who are you kidding, I’ve been watching longer than you’ve been alive kid.” 

“Doubtful, I think I came out of the womb watching that franchise.” Y/n pushed up from her place at the counter to walk closer to Melissa’s table. 

“Ah what do you know? You probably can’t even remember the original RHONY cast before this godawful reboot.” Melissa goaded, rising from her chair to look Y/n in the eyes. 

“Wanna bet?” Y/n said and just as the women were closing the charged distance between them, Barbara reached up to pull Melissa back. 

“Alright ladies, I think that’s enough fun for the morning. Why don’t we save this energy for your little chatroom, hm?” 

Melissa shrugged and took her seat again working to push her irritation down. But as assessed her body– it wasn’t irritation she found. And Y/n found herself fighting the unexpected but familiar heat that a bossy beautiful woman could inspire within her. They both slinked back to their corners and everyone in the lounge exchanged curious looks over their heads. Not much later the school bell rang, and almost everyone dispersed. Except Y/n and Melissa. They eyed each other cautiously before Melissa broke the silence. 

“Reunion part one, next week, my place. Bring wine.” 

“Roger that, Red. Maybe we can tag team some poor souls while we’re at it.” 

Melissa grinned at the prospect and nodded before heading out the door, “Now you’re speaking my language.”

Let’s just assume they’re still trying to get out of Bravo Forum jail.

[filmbyjy]

REVENGE PACT

— the mafia main masterlist

PAIRING: kim sunoo x fem!reader

SUMMARY: you never liked your foster parents. they were the worst kind of people. you wanted revenge, you needed revenge. especially after they kicked you out of your home. the world was a cruel place, a lot of horrible people so why was there someone putting their hands out for you? why were they asking you to join their team?

WARNING (s) : mentions of guns, dead & rotting bodies, blood & gore, wounds & infected ones

WORD COUNT: 9.02K words

NOTE: SHES BACK 😘😘 please excuse me i didn't proofread this so I'm sorry if there are mistakes💀

ONE

Evil, that’s how you could describe your foster parents. They were the most cruel and outrageous people you’ve ever lived, grew up with and breathed nearby. At first, as a baby you’d just be babbling and doing the normal baby stuff that any normal baby would do. You were an adorable baby and your foster parents didn’t have much to say. However, as you grew older…they started to show their true colours.

‘do the house chores everyday. make sure the house is spotless.’

‘no TV. naughty kids like you can’t watch TV.’

‘why are other kids prettier than you? we picked the wrong child up at the foster home.’

Words like those haunt you till this day. Repeating in your head like it was on repeat, the disgust in their tones. The disappointment on their faces. You couldn’t get over it. It always causes shivers down your spine. When you turned 17, you realised that your foster parents were starting to not care about you anymore. In fact, they even stopped giving allowance for school and stopped paying for your school fees. Suddenly, it felt like everything was thrown at you once. You had to pay for your own phone bills, school fees and feed yourself.

When you turned 18, you had come back home from a nice day out with your friends at school. They celebrated it with you. However, just as you walked into the apartment building (which was located in a sketchy area) you realised your stuff laid outside of your home. It was thrown out like it was trash, messily and hastily placed into the boxes. You had looked up at the door and red simply blurred your vision. You had opened up the cupboard outside of the home and grabbed the trolley. Quickly, you had placed your stuff inside and on top of it. Just before you left, you tore a piece of paper and slid it under the door.

‘I’ll be back to hunt you down.’

The note read. You will find a way to make your foster parents’ life a living hell. You didn’t care how you did it, all you needed was to find someone good for the job.

TWO

2 years ago, Sunoo was barely even legal. The boys were still figuring things out and so he didn’t have a specific job to really do in their little mafia team. At that point in time, they didn’t brand themselves fully as the mafia because to get to be a true mafia, you had to prove yourself. Hence, the boys knew they had to work their way up and make a name for themselves.

With each boy having an established task to themselves and proving to each other that they could do well in a certain thing, sunoo was left alone not knowing what to do. each of the boys felt bad so they asked him to join along with them to their various missions. sunoo never had a specific task at hand. sometimes he’d help jake and jungwon with their little IT side of the team. sometimes he and heeseung would take care of the bidding and the hotels. other times, him, ni-ki and sunghoon went out to actually deal with the situation at hand. most of the times, him and jay would work together. they’d usually help heeseung and then basically just strike a deal with one of the past mafia members. that’s how it usually was. up until, they made their name in the mafia world. everyone was terrified of them. well, most were. some offered to work with them. collaborate with them and possibly earn a deal. with that, the cash flow was wrecking up. they made tons and millions dollars of cash a month.

“you’re good with money right, sunoo hyung?” jungwon says. from then on, sunoo was announced as enhypen little accountant. any money related things? it’ll go to sunoo. want to buy a plane and book a flight to deal a strike with another mobster? just ask sunoo and he’ll check everything and make sure your accommodation is up to standard.

There were no complaints from the boys, in fact, they actually like sunoo’s arrangements. what could he say? he was that good at his task.

“hyung, need money. we’ll be on a mission to trick this guy. learnt that he does a lot of fraud and even evades taxes.” ni-ki says. sunoo hums.

“how much?”

That mission went successful despite the small hiccups. So here we are fast forward in the year 2023, the boys were pushed into this troubled situation. they had to run away since they were being swarmed and then would be harming the city if they stayed any longer. sure, they were the mafia but they didn’t harm innocent people’s lives. they weren’t that evil, they just did shady business.

“hyung, are you sure this is the location we have to go to?” sunoo asks. he looks at the weird motel that jay stumbled upon.

“i am sure. these people are weird, they tried to scam some innocent people before. as far as i know based on the database, they have a daughter. not their actual daughter though.” jay explains.

“and why is it important information?”

“since they are our new wanted target, we have to at least know their weak points to poke at them and get some juicy info.”

“why did you drag me along?” sunoo sighs. jay deadpans.

“you have that innocent sweet charming face and smile. it would melt any parents’ heart so come on! let’s do this.” jay walks up to the run down building. sunoo shakes his head trailing the older behind.

they looked around the main ‘lobby’ of the motel/apartment. the elevator wasn’t even working. jay sighs, “guess it’s cardio day for us.”

“everyday is cardio day for us.” sunoo says.

“i can’t even counter that statement since it’s true.” jay looks up the stairs. “what floor was it again?”

”jungwon told us it was floor 22.” sunoo says.

”are you being for real?” jay’s eyes widened. “this is not going to be fun.”

”since when was climbing a flight of stairs fun, hyung? let’s just get going, we have to get up there. we’re wasting time.” sunoo starts to climb up the flight of stairs. jay follows behind, trudging with every step up.

by the time they reach floor 22, they looked to the side and saw a working elevator with people leaving. shady people walking out. “definitely the right building.”

“we could’ve taken the elevator.” jay groans. he pants out and coughs a little. sunoo judges him a little, “don’t look at me like as if climbing up 22 flights of stairs isn’t hard.”

“you’re just being dramatic, hyung.” sunoo says. there was a huge slam against the wall, they turned to the side and saw a guy groaning. some other guy comes over and grabs his collar.

“the boss doesn’t like betrayers. you tried reporting us to the police so you’ll get what you deserve.” he goes to punch the guy but before that, sunoo kicks him away. the guy falls to the ground.

“leave, quick.” jay pulls the injured guy up off the ground. he does as he is told and scurries off whilst limping. sunoo kicks the other guy once more and pulls out a gun.

“bring us to your boss right now.” he says with a straight face. the guy gets off the ground and nods. sunoo points over to the hallway and the guy leads them to the unit. the guy knocks on the door and it opens slightly. with one blast, sunoo triggers the pistol and the guy falls to the ground, dead.

a few people came out, jay and sunoo fought them. endless sea of bad people but they managed to fight them off. they stood in front of the supposed person in charge. he stood with a woman in a coat.

“who are you.” he says. jay smirks.

“i think you know who exactly we are.” jay continues to give him a snobby smirk. the guy scoffs. the woman pulls out a gun and points it right at them.

“do we owe you something though?”

“multiple things. mainly money.”

”which we can easily settle. we’ve been finding ways to get it. you boys seem to know how. we do have a bigger offer though.”

sunoo snickers, “what? what’s better than giving us back the money you owe us?”

“you can take my daughter.”

“no thanks.” sunoo says.

“our daughter has no sole living purpose for us. we simply don’t need her. after all, she’s a failure at life.” the woman says.

sunoo clenches his fist, “that’s a bit too mean of you to say about a human being. don’t you think?” he says calmly.

”oh please, she’s ugly. if she was pretty, we could’ve sold her off a long time ago but that bitch is useless.”

sunoo doesn’t hesitate to shoot twice and swiftly. both shots were right on their ankles.

“you two don’t deserve to walk on this earth. demons.” not one single remorse in his eyes. jay wasn’t shocked by this. he pats sunoo on his shoulder.

“they’re coming to get these two and we can bring them in for questioning and possibly torture them.”

“yeah, alright.” sunoo shoots once more to get the gun out of the woman’s hands. she shrieks and glares at sunoo. sunoo rolls his eyes, “don’t act surprised. you’re getting what you deserve.” both jay and sunoo start to walk out.

“we kicked that girl out since she was 18. she was never in contact with us anyway. useless bitch.” the guy says. sunoo’s grip on the gun tightened but jay pushes him forward so he wouldn’t do anything rash.

they left the apartment and waited for their men to pick the couple up. “why did you stop me?”

”because our job isn’t to kill them. we need them alive to get some info out. we can’t just end them. even though they deserve it.” jay explains.

”horrible people. they are worse than anyone we’ve ever fought. can’t believe they fucking kicked their adopted daughter out at 18.” sunoo folds his arm. jay sighs.

“you know. there might be some good info about them if we can find that girl.”

“we have no way of finding her.”

“jake and jungwon could try to find her. track her down.”

“then let’s do that. hope she’s at least safe and sound and actually has a roof over her head.” sunoo sighs.

part of what he said was right. the rain pouring and falling right on the roof of your cardboard box. it was cold with the wind blowing. you had pulled your jacket closer to your body. today wouldn’t be a good day to beg for money. your stomach growls but you choose to ignore it. you didn’t have much money to buy a meal. you did have a job but then they found out you were lying about your age hence they fired you. since then, you had been trying to find an okay job to at least make enough money to buy a meal. however, no one would take you in. you were qualified, smart enough and hell, you could’ve worked at a convenience store but you looked too poor as what they always quoted.

the world is a cruel place. you didn’t know what to do, how were you going to live on like this? the small mewl was heard. you had turned to look to your side. a kitten shivering and drenched. you had carefully picked it up and hid it under your coat, providing it warmth. it was 7pm when the rain became lighter, you had looked up at the dark sky. someone covers that view though. he offers his hand. you were wary.

“who are you?” you say with a defensive tone.

whoever they were came close to you and started attacking your makeshift home, them offering their hands was just a lie. they didn’t have single mercy in their eyes. the rain starts getting heavier as it pours hard. you tugged on their arms and tried to get them to stop what they were doing. these were just annoying teenage boys and you were an adult. you could fight them. however, they managed to kick you to the ground and continued to do so as you cowered in fear. each kick landed on every vulnerable spot of your body. 

30 minutes went by and those boys left earlier. you had laid your back on the concrete floor. the rain is still heavily falling on you. every part of your body was aching, however, you felt numb. you could never understand why the world was a cruel place. you had enough suffering already, why were you punished with more?

you had sat up and hugged your legs. tears falling quickly as you sobbed. you were cold, wet and most definitely bleeding. you were also hungry but you didn’t have any money. you had crawled over to the box which was now mush on the ground.

‘if only there was someone to save me.’

just as you thought so, you succumbed to exhaustion. your body was limp as you fell asleep. the next morning, you realised the usual sunlight that always woke you up was now being blocked. you were wary once again, hence your eyes opened real huge.

“p-please! i did nothing wrong! please don’t ruin my home again.” you had to shield yourself from whoever it was.

“yup, she’s the one.” you heard one of them say. the other guy kneels down.

“hey, don’t worry. we won’t hurt you. we’re here to help you.” he says. you placed your arms down but still kept your walls up in case anything happened.

“how do i know you’re not lying! just yesterday two teenage boys tried to harm me. they also pretended to care about me but just kicked my cardboard box home.”

the two men turned to each other and one of them sighed, “i’m sunoo and that is jay. we are actually looking for you. are you (name)?”

“h-how do you know my name?” you were in shock. who were these two guys?

“you could say we run a business. umm, a justice serving business…anyways, our previous clients. your foster parents. they are evil and we tried to ask them nicely about our payment since they borrowed money from us but they have yet to pay.”

as he mentions your foster parents, your frown deepens. “i know nothing about them if you come to ask me. they never liked me.”

“oh, we don’t really need the info but we do know that you most probably have some sort of revenge plot. i mean, after all, they kicked you out when you did nothing wrong.” sunoo reasons.

you were intrigued a little, “what do you offer?”

“join us. we can train you. after that you can get your very much well deserved revenge.”

you liked the sound of his plan but you were still wary of them. which jay obviously notices, he hands you his phone to show you an article of them. you gasped. you remember overhearing your foster parents talk about them while you passed by their bedroom.

‘they’re dangerous.’

’but they’d bring us enough money to build our empire to take over!’

‘you’re right. we need to get rid of that bitch first.’

’just 2 more years then we can kick her out.’

just remembering their words makes you disgusted. “i’ll help you guys.” you finally say. so here you were following the two boys into a huge resort. the staffs at the front desk bowed at sunoo and jay however, they judged you with their eyes.

“could i get a luxury suite? our guest will be staying with us for a long time hence we will need the best room we have here at the resort.” jay smoothly tells the lady at the front desk. she blushes.

“of course, Mr.Park.”

“thanks, sugar.” jay winks and grabs the keycard. “oh, we need fresh clothes sent to the room, along with the main course and desserts. our guest here hasn’t eaten for a very long time since some very mean people who judge her hurt her.”

jay subtly glares at the other staff and their eyes widened. seems like their judging didn’t go unnoticed. they bowed quickly and made sure to do as he told them to. sunoo grabs your hand and leads you to the room.

“sorry about them. some humans are just designed to judge others. we could have them fired if they say anything else to hurt you.”

”oh, no no. it’s fine really. i’m used to being judged.” you awkwardly say. sunoo sighs.

“not exactly a good thing.” he notices you were holding onto your stomach. “you said about 2 teenage boys trying to harm you. did they actually harm you?”

“umm, yes.” with one nod towards jay, he leaves. sunoo goes to grab the first aid kit from the bathroom.

“sit down on the bed. are you okay with me treating your wounds?”

“umm, okay.” you lift up your shirt a little so that sunoo could assess the injury. he winces.

“holy fuck. that’s a huge bruise.” he looks up at you. “(name), are you sure it was just harming? this looks like they were trying to intentionally hurt you.”

you looked away. “just treat it and then it will go away.”

“this won’t go away with just medicine. i think we need to get a doctor to make sure you’re alright. i’ll call them later on and then they’ll come tomorrow morning. for now…” he sighs and grabs the ointment. “this will have to do. i’ll go ask jay hyung to grab you some panadol or something so that the pain will lessen. eat it after some food.”

you could only nod at his words. this was a little unusual because wasn’t sunoo and his team supposed to be heartless, merciless killers? come to think of it. the only news you heard of them on the news and surrounding talks in high school were just about how good looking and successful they were.

after sunoo treats the obvious wounds on your body, he goes to leave and so you were left alone for your own alone time. you had explored around the suite. it was really beautiful, it connected to the beach nearby and even had it’s own small swimming pool. this felt like royalty and you weren’t used to this kind of treatment.

there were a series of knocks and so you went to open the door. the staff brings it a whole feast for you and you were in awe. your stomach surely couldn’t fit everything but you were starving. you heard the soft mewl and you had remembered the kitten that you had saved.

“do you happen to have any cat food?”

“i’m so sorry, we don’t have any.”

“ah, then can i have some warm goat milk?”

“of course, i will bring it right away.” and so the hotel staff left. you had grabbed a random square tray and placed the small hand towel onto it. you quickly cradled the kitten in your hands and placed it into the box.

“at least one of us will be safe and warm.” you mumbled. the kitten mewling a little. the staff comes back with a cup of warm goat milk and you help to feed the kitten little by little.

to skip forward to the next morning after a much needed rest, you heard the doorbell ring. it was sunoo, along with what you assumed was their private doctor. she inspects you to make sure you were alright. overall, you were fine just some bruises and cuts where those boys kicked you. the doctor prescribes you with some painkillers and some ointment to help with the swelling and bruises.

“your clothes will get sent over soon. then, i’ll bring you over to where we train.” sunoo explains.

you hummed at his words. sunoo goes over to do some other tasks. the doorbell rings and someone brings in a rack full of clothes. it looked expensive, you felt like this wasn’t right. however, you had no choice but to accept this. they would be training to get revenge on your parents. you had to learn to be ruthless.

you had went to take a shower and changed into the clothes. after doing so, you had stepped out and went over to where sunoo was. he ends the call and stares right at you, he was in shock. you looked really beautiful.

“umm, how do i look?” 

“good. really pretty.” and he doesn’t shy away from saying so.

it causes you to be caught off guard. you could feel your face heat up. you cleared your throat in embarrassment. “umm, thank you.”

sunoo smiles a little, “alright. let’s get going.”

and so you followed sunoo over to a place further into the woods behind the resort. it definitely seemed very private. surely only authorised personnel would only be able to enter this place. sunoo scans his iris into the scanner and the door opens for him. you had quickened your pace and entered the place with him. it looked futuristic and high tech. there were groups of men and women holding guns. there were some guarding rooms, some on a break and chatting.

you could see a gun range and they were practicing their shots. each of them wearing their gear to be protected. there was actually various training ranges. melee weapons, guns and heavy weapons like bombs. it was actually insane.

“okay, we’re here.” sunoo stops at a specific room. it seemed like a meeting room. a some sort circular table with chairs surrounding it and a screen at the front for presentations.

“why are we here?” you had asked curiously. sunoo waits a couple of seconds before he nods his head towards the door. you looked over and a few boys walked in. there were at least 3 other girls along with them and one of them seemed like a senior in high school.

one of them smacks their hand once, “alright. it seems like with the new case that we have to follow through after moving here for our safety, this lady over here had been thrown out by her adoptive parents. we obviously as a team specialise in making sure that justice is being served even if we have to punish them in harsh ways.”

sunoo raises his hands and speaks up. “actually, she’s older than you jungwon. you need to address her as noona.” he tells the younger boy. jungwon rolls his eyes and sighs.

“yes. we need to help this noona. we may be the mafia but we aren’t doing only just the bad things. we are also serving justice. quite honestly, i don’t know why the police are onto us as a team but thankfully they don’t know we are the people behind this scheme.” jungwon turns to face you. “noona, you said you wanted revenge. what are going to do?”

“my adoptive parents have put a roof on my head and provided me enough food and water till I was 18. which to most people is a normal age to start leaving but whilst i was growing up, they’ve hurt and degraded me a lot. in turn, i want to do the same to them.”

“you won’t regret it?” someone else asks. you had shook your head.

“i had work at 16 to provide when they kept spending their money on gambling and drugs. they constantly took the money i had earned and wasted it all.”

they look through the profile of your adoptive parents and sighed. it was true, after all they did spend their money on buying drugs from their men. along with also loaning money from them to grow their own twisted company secretly from you. they obviously had to have people watch over you and your adoptive parents in any case they ran away.

“that’s fair. then that means you’d like to train with us.”

“if possible, it would be great.”

they talked amongst themselves. sunoo was the one to break the news to you.

“you can train with our team and be part of it. in a way, you’ll also earn some money. those two over there, jungwon and jake, will be tracking your parents down. it seems like they have escaped and ran away.”

you cursed under your breath. of course they did.

“so we’ll prepare you for the final part when those finally find your adoptive parents. shouldn’t take too long. they’re pretty good at their job.”

you nodded. once everything was settled, everyone quickly dispersed. sunoo turns to you.

“let’s go.” he says. you had followed him to the training ground. a list of weapons were nestled right on the shelf and workbench.

“lesson 1. finding your melee and secondary weapon. do you play first person shooting games?” sunoo says as he inspects the gun.

“no.” he turns to you and realises.

“crap, forgot that your parents were horrible people so they never let you have much fun. anyways, choose your favourite weapon here i guess. maybe you might be good at it.”

you looked through the selection of guns, knives and swords. they looked new, untouched and most definitely made to only be used to practice. that’s when you spot a simple silent pistol perfect weapon when taking down enemies and it was silent. you picked it up and sunoo smirks.

“perfect. always the best choice to take someone down silently like a ninja.” he says. sunoo flips his gun and points it right at the dummy skillfully. your jaw was dropped. he smirks and flips it back into his little gun holster.

“don’t need to look so shocked. i’ve been doing this for years. just some flashy moves to show off to you. now, let’s practice with your pistol.” you nod at sunoo’s words.

he shows you shooting range for you to practice your aim. then he demonstrates with the gun that you had chosen. he looked super cool while showing you how to shoot. he was also quick to teach you about the safety trigger as it would prevent you from shooting just anyone by accident. 

heeseung enters the range and casually grabs his gun and shoots the dummy. it makes you jump a little because of how loud it was. sunoo rolls his eyes. “hyung, can you not scare our newbie?”

heeseung snickers, “it’s part of the training. no flinching.”

“it’s only day one.” sunoo folds his arms.

“we only have 2 weeks to settle this annoying issue with her parents so she needs to show improvements everyday. train her flinching, everyone needs to be good at that to not be surprised by random attacks.” heeseung says before he leaves the shooting range. sunoo sighs.

“ignore him. he’s always like that with new people. i’ll train your flinching another time, it’s honestly really easy.”

“and how easy is it?”

“well, for me. it took a while to get used to flinching. i still do it but not all the time so i don’t know what is heeseung hyung on about. flinching isn’t a big thing. learning how to shoot and aim properly is more important so that will take 1 week to be decently good at.” he explains. you hummed at his words and he continued to explain and demonstrate it.

there are times where sunoo had to come close to you to help you but nothing too big. that is until he unconsciously went to help you to aim the gun right on the dummy. as he explains to you what you had to do, you were frozen. he was super close to you but he didn’t even realise it.

“do you understand?” he turns to face you. there was barely any space left. his eyes widened and he moves back. he clears his throat, “that should be it for today. you have free time for a bit. there is a canteen if you walk straight so if you’d like something to eat, go there.” he stumbles on his words and quickly leaves once he was done speaking.

shock. confusion. they were the feelings you had as you stood there in the shooting range alone. jungwon walks by the place when he sees you just standing there.

“are you not going to eat? they’re serving feast at the canteen and everyone is running over there right now.” he says.

“oh, umm right.” you flipped the safety trigger on the gun and placed it right on the holster of the belt. you had brisk walked over to the canteen.

THREE

just as you arrived at the canteen, there were tons of chattering. there were groups intermingling with each other and having conversations. they had their own friends and whatever this was but as for you, you were alone. it made you feel awkward but you just choose to pick up a tray and get some food.

“hi!” this girl says enthusiastically that it startled you. “ouh, sorry for scaring you! my name is nabi. i heard from a little birdie that you’re joining our team.” she gives you a warm smile.

“uh, yes. h-how did you find out?” you were a little shocked. she giggles.

“my boyfriend, jake. he told me.” she puts out her hand for you to shake. “i’m an assassin that has recently started working with them. i was a solo assassin that did help them out here and there but i decided to just join them since i am dating jake now.” you hummed at her words and shook her hand.

“you must’ve heard the reasons as to why i’m joining your team.”

she hums, “yeah. it’s okay, it’s normal. if it makes you feel any better, my parents died when i was 2 and i had been living with my grandparents.” she notices your features softening, a look of pity and sadness flashed in your eyes. “hey hey, it’s not that bad. though my grandparents have passed on, i’m still very happy with my life right now. i like the adrenaline. i think you’ll understand that feeling later on when we go on more missions!”

“ah, i don’t know. everyone seems to think i’m a nuisance…well, except for sunoo.”

“oh. don’t worry, they just need to warm up to you. they’re always like that since they need to have their guard up and stuff. you have me, eun unnie and hwaseong! so what do you say? shall we meet the other girls?”

“umm…i’m not sure.”

“don’t worry. they’re not bad people. our boyfriends on the other hand…they’re something else.” nabi reassures you.

you were unsure but you knew nabi meant no harm hence you didn’t feel threatened by her. you sighed. “okay, i’ll meet the other girls.”

“perfect!” she lightly grabs your wrist and pulls you along to the table where the other girls were. “everyone this is sunoo’s girl, (name)!”

“s-sunoo’s girl?” your eyes widened. they all chuckled and laughed at the joke nabi made.

“ignore nabi, she likes to joke around so you’ll get used to her. she may be a little vibrant but she does throw a nasty right hook. i’m eun by the way.” she holds out her hand. you shook it.

“you must be heeseung’s wife.”

“oh. yeah, i am. you must’ve heard about it from sunoo, huh?”

“yeah, he talked a little about the whole mafia team. not everything in detail though.”

“well, you’ll know about everything while working with us and the boys. the dynamic is actually insane. we could honestly work with the FBI, too bad we’re wanted by them.” eun shrugs.

a small beep was heard on the intercom, then an announcement pops up. “calling nabi, eun, hwaseong and (name) to the meeting room. it is important.”

“oh, guess we don’t have time to eat. let’s go meet the boys.” nabi says. you had looked down at your plate and your stomach grumbles. “oh, don’t worry. we’ll have some snacks in the meeting room. i’ll grab it for you later on. then maybe tonight we can have some barbecue to welcome you to the team!”

you sighed a little. it was a little wasteful to leave the food and possibly throw it out. “don’t worry about the food. they’ll usually make the food into fertilisers for the plants that they’re growing out in the farm. oh and especially the meat, they’ll feed that to the animals so don’t worry.” eun pats your back. you had brought the food to the counter and left it there before following the other girls to the meeting room.

once you had made it to the meeting room, all 7 of the boys were scattered around the room trying to figure out a plan. nabi throws you a packet of chips and you caught it. “alright, why are we here boys?” nabi asks. she picks up a chip from her own packet and eats it.

jake points to the hologram in the middle of the room. “we are getting intel from our men that someone in this building is actually a backstabber. they’re selling our locations, our weapons and every single secret we have.”

“we need to find this person. any of you girls have any ideas? we have to move quick since we’re still trying to finish the situation with (name)’s foster parents. we need to get their payments soon, the government is onto us. not exactly fun to be on the radar of the FBI.” jungwon says.

hwaseong hums, “it’s clear that we need someone new to seek out and assess all our men and staff. it would be easier for them to sniff out the perpetrator since they barely know them.”

they all had turned to you. “(name), are you okay with doing this? we understand if it’s a little hard for you since you just joined us-” 

“i’m fine with it. umm, how many people are there in this base.”

“excluding the men that work with us closely. the hotel staff and a few of our spies and assassins are the ones we have to make sure are good. I’d say about 50-100. We probably have to find out by the end of this week.” Sunghoon explains.

your jaw drops. “i don’t think i can do all of that by the end of the week.”

“well, we usually work that way so-” sunghoon gets smacked in the head by sunoo.

“hyung, you’re crazy and don’t lie. if one of us did this alone, we won’t be able to finish it. we need to have at least 4-5 people if we want it finished in a week.”

sunghoon groans, “fine. then, you go help her.”

“you’re a waste of air, do you know that?” sunoo rolls his eyes as he retaliates sunghoon’s words. sunghoon grumbles.

“kids, i swear.” heeseung groans. “let’s just all focus on this first and find the rat before we continue with the search of (name)’s foster parents. if there is an issue with that 2nd problem then we’ll split the team so there will be enough people to tackle both issues.”

once heeseung explains, everyone in the room went silent. it seemed like the plan was reasonable and would be executed well. they didn’t doubt him so they just went with it. “alright, how about we split the people we have to interview. two rooms for interrogation and one person each in there to ask the question.”

once the plan was organised, everyone goes their separate ways to do their part. both you and sunoo turned the corner to visit the weapon range. there were a couple people there, you had gone up to them first and asked them about how they were. sunoo had watched from far, making sure to watch their actions and appearance.

none of them so far looked suspicious. as you were walking towards the other side of the building, you had spotted someone being a little weird. they headed towards an empty hallway towards the emergency staircase. you and sunoo had trailed them behind quietly.

the guy picks up his phone and answers a call, he looks around making sure no one was around to hear him. you and sunoo hid behind a wall.

“they’re onto us. it seems like someone has tipped them off. we’re going to get caught. just make sure to ship it to our boss by tonight.” he says. sunoo rolls his eyes. he pulls out his gun and shoots right on the guy. the guy’s body falls limp onto the ground. sunoo picks up the phone and looks down at the contact.

“if you’re still listening, just remember that we’re always one step ahead of you. watch your back.” sunoo eerily tells the person on the other side of the call. he heard the guy gasped and tackled to the ground.

“got him, hyung.” ni-ki says as he picks up guy’s phone.

“alright. need help bringing this guy to the interrogation room. shot him with a tranquilizer. he should be knocked out cold for like…maybe a few hours?”

“alright. i’ll call someone to help out.” the call ends. sunoo looks over at you. your eyes were widened.

“sorry, i like to be quick and efficient. he would’ve done something if he spotted us anyways. he’s not dead though, don’t worry.” when you didn’t say anything, he tilts his head. “what’s wrong?”

you had slowly pointed up behind him. sunoo ducks when he feels someone about to punch him. he kicks the person right on their stomach. he turns around to look at the person. some other back up, they probably got brainwashed by the rat. you had pulled out your gun and pointed it towards the guy. he held up his hands in surrender.

“tell us who sent you.” sunoo says.

the guy scoffs, “not a chance.” sunoo gestures you to fire a warning shot. you had shot the wall right next to the guy. he flinches.

“next time that will be in your brain. so tell me.” he kneels down in front of the guy. “who. is. your. boss.” he emphasises each word. the guy groans.

“guess who else. you’re only searching for 2 people. one being her foster parents and the other being the one who sent that message to ENHYPEN.”

“not a direct answer i wanted. it’s fine though. torture might be best for you.” jay, ni-ki and sunghoon walked into the staircase. they picked up both of the guys there. once they had left, you and sunoo were the only ones left.

“are you okay? must’ve been terrifying since it’s your first time holding someone at gun point.” sunoo looks over at you with worry.

“i’m fine. just shaken up a little. what are you guys going to do to them?”

“get answer our own way. they didn’t want to answer directly so they’ll get their punishment. don’t worry though, the only ones that handle that are usually jay hyung and heeseung hyung. they’re…a little messed up i guess.”

you nodded once, not exactly sure what to say or react. sunoo comes closer to you, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ears. “don’t worry, you’ll be safe. we just need to find your foster parents and everything should be good for you.”

“what about whatever the guy just said. about your first ‘enemy’?” sunoo sighs at your words.

“that can be solved throughout this whole thing. whoever that guy is really likes to play riddles. dude thinks he’s jigsaw.” sunoo says. you laughed a little at his joke. he smiles. “i like this side of you, your smile. you should smile more often. it makes you look much more prettier.”

you were flustered by his words.

“let’s go. since we caught the rats selling us out early, they’ll most likely give us some bonus!”

and bonuses they did give. everyone clinks their glasses together. there was meat grilling. the sound of sizzling and the aroma of some good meat. there were conversations amongst everyone. jungwon knocks on his glass and stands up.

“alright! we have found the rats selling our info. for this dinner though, not only are we saying a good job to each other. we are also officially introducing (name) into our team. Welcome (name) to ENHYPEN!” everyone claps.

Despite sunghoon still being a little unfriendly towards you still as it’s only been 2 days since you two met, you could tell that he was slowly warming up to you. you had turned to sunoo only to find that he was staring right at you, a big smile on his adorable face. it was like the world stop, everything was going by slowly. it was just you and sunoo in that area, no one else.

FOUR

your alarm rang, you had swiftly turned it off. it had been 2 months since being introduced as the official member of the ENHYPEN mafia gang. everyone was definitely well acquainted with you and didn’t have any hard feelings against you. you had also proved yourself worthy of being on the team. you had always followed jay, sunoo, sunghoon and ni-ki’s trips to collect ‘money’ from those in debt.

2 months into the team and they were still looking for your foster parents. it seemed like they were hidden well. as if someone was protecting them and it made you frustrated.

“found anything so far, jungwon?” you had turned to the younger male. he sighs and nudges his head to the screen.

“look. it’s like they disappeared in thin air after sunoo and jay shot them.” jungwon says as he inspects the CCTV footage. “i’ve watched this countless of times. maybe they have some hidden secret room or something.”

“could you play the clip in its entirety?” jungwon nods at your words. you had watched it closely, trying to look at every nook and cranny. then you remembered something. “go back to the timestamp 19:13?”

jungwon does he’s told. you clicked on the spacebar to stop it. you had gasped when you realised it. “there is a hidden room. i remember before they kicked me out, i heard sounds from the living room. something moving.” you point to the bookshelves. “i think those moved.”

jungwon’s eyes widened. “you sure? it’s bit of an extra thing to have in a pretty run down apartment isn’t it?”

“i don’t they added it back then. maybe when i was about 14? i usually came home and they weren’t around. then at night, i would see them in the kitchen but i didn’t hear any sounds of the front door opening. just that weird, shuffling noise from something moving.”

jungwon hums, “alright then maybe we could get jay hyung and sunoo hyung to travel back to the city and assess the location.”

-

‘hey, hyungs. mind travelling back to the city and visiting an old apartment again?’ - JW

‘copy that. which one?’ - JY

‘jinheulgtang (muddy land) apartments’ - JW

‘back there again? what did you find out about them?’ - JY

‘(name) noona mentioned that there is a possibility of a hidden room in that apartment.’ - JW

‘alright. (name), you hear us right? we need you to join us to narrow down the possible hidden room.’ - JY

‘yeah, got it. let me get suited up.’

‘copy.’ - JY

-

after that conversation, you had gone over to grab your usual weapons and meet up with the two boys. the elevator opens, jay and sunoo were waiting for you. you had gone over to where they were and they nod at you. soon enough, all 3 of you were travelling back to the previous town. it looked quite different. there wasn’t much of a noticeable difference but it still felt different. as the car pulls up to the street where the apartment was, you felt your heart start to race.

sunoo noticed that you were starting to feel uncomfortable. “hey, you have to remain strong. i know it was a painful past you had and they treated you like shit but you have to remember. you’re doing this for revenge.” he squeezes your hand. you nod.

“alright. i’ll get my shit together. it’s just that coming back here just kinda brought in memories i’d like to forget.”

“i understand. don’t worry, you have me and jay hyung. oh and of course, 100 other men who are ready to throw hands and take out their firearms.”

“right, okay.” you had breathed out. “i can do this.”

the car pulls up right in front of the apartment building. all 3 of you left the car, about 5 other people were watching and staying back to make sure you guys had some form of backup when needed. there seemed to be a reception in the building now, which was weird. you only assumed they had something they were protecting in this building, someone higher up. you went up to the receptionist.

you had slammed the desk so that the receptionist woke up. he wakes up in a startle, then looks straight up at you.

“who are you?”

“daughter of floor 22. i need to visit my parents, they called me to come.”

“you need proof before i can allow you to go up.” he says.

jay folds his arm. “it took them 6 months to turn this into a motel? when we came here the last time, we took the stairs.”

“rules change over the months, young man. now, scram.”

jay rolls his eyes and pulls out his gun. he cocks it. the receptionist was now startled, he scrambles to get the keycard for floor 22 and hands it quickly to you.

“thanks. you chose the right option.” you had turned to jay and sunoo. “let’s go. staying here gives me goosebumps and not the good kind.” you flipped the pistol and pointed it right at the receptionist.

“don’t even try to call anyone for help. the police wouldn’t help with shit. hell, maybe even the FBI. be a good boy and go back to sleep.” you threatened the receptionist. he nods quickly and closes his eyes. he goes back to sleep, well pretending to at least.

you, sunoo and jay had gone into the elevator. you swiped and clicked on the 22nd floor. the elevator moves up. “you know, (name). that was cool what you did back there. you’ve improved so much over these two months!” sunoo praises.

you smiled a little, “thanks. i only learnt from the best.” then it goes silent. jay grumbles under his breath.

“fucking simps.”

“what did you say, hyung?”

“nothing.”

the elevator finally stops right at the floor, sunoo and jay left first to look around for anything suspicious. you had reached the door and punched in the numbers into the keypad. the door unlocks and the boys followed behind you. the house was spotless and clean, which was weird.

“was it always this clean? when we came here the last time, it was…horrible. messy even.” sunoo says.

“it definitely was way worse than how it looks now. don’t let your guard down.” jay says.

you had gone over to the room with the bookshelf. there were a lot of books but you knew your foster parents never read or even picked up one of them. there were tons of books labelled as some strange mythology and research. you had tugged onto one of them and shelf moves to the side.

“what in the Harry Potter shit is this.” jay stares at the now open entrance. just as he steps his food closer to the door frame, a foul stench appears. he coughs and covers his mouth.

“smells like a rotting body.” sunoo says as he too covers his nose. you had covered your nose and went in. it was spiral stairs leading the unit directly below, the two boys following behind you. just as you stepped on the final step, you had spotted two corpses on the couch.

“holy fuck, that’s-”

“my foster parents. who killed them.” you say as you had inspected it closer (not too close though)

“with how they’re rotting it should be at least 10 days since they’ve been murdered and set up like this.” jay explains. he sees the gun wound on both of their chests. “you shot their legs before right, sunoo?”

“yeah.” jay points to the wound on their legs.

“it’s been sort of patched up but it’s probably infected.” you had scrunched up your face in disgust at jay’s words.

-

yo, anything you found? - JK

just two rotting bodies - JY

oh wtf, someone got to them first? - JK

seems like it. whoever it is has done a very clean work and they are a neat freak - JY

hyung, do you know anyone personally who was a neat freak? - SN

the only person i know is my older brother but as you know… - JK

he’s dead. - JY

allegedly alive i guess - SN

-

you heard a crack coming from somewhere. then suddenly, the projector on the ceiling turns on. it plays a video of a man in a black robe. he grabs a paper and stares directly at the three of them.

“do you like the present i left you?” he asks. “they were quite persistent to stay alive even after they made a deal with me. there was no possible way for them to stay alive after the 6 months of trial. not worthy. the worse kind of human being. right, (name)?”

you were shocked. “who are you.”

the guy reveals himself, it was jake’s older brother.

-

hyung, are you seeing this? - SN

i am seeing it very clearly - JK

-

“jake, missed me? you thought i was dead. you just didn’t see the hints. too late though, there is no way of stopping from completing my final mission.” he points directly at you. “she has something that is needed for the final thing so i will end her.”

the lightbulbs on the ceiling lights exploded and you yelped. sunoo holds you close, he glares at the guy.

“you’ll have to go through us.” he declares.

“oh, do you seriously think i’m weaker than you guys. i’ve gathered so much people over the years of being ‘dead’. i can end your group easily.” he warns.

jay folds his arm, “jake, has your brother always been this annoying?”

uhh no, copy. someone probably shat in his cereal those years back - JK

“roger. anyways, dude. you’re going down.” jay declares.

“not without a fight.” the door opens and a couple people surround you, jay and sunoo. all three of you had your weapons out. jay taps on his wrist to signal to for more backup.

maybe you should just prepare yourself. since he is my brother…i can assure you he isn’t stupid. - JK

“shut up, the show is about to go down.”

indeed it was, every single one of them starts to charge at you. each of them held a weapon. you were caught off guard and you start to shield yourself. sunoo steps in and shoots the people who were about to hurt you. he grabs your hand and holds it tightly.

“run.” jay yells. all three of you burst out the door and ran down the flight of stairs. the bad guys following behind you shooting at you but sunoo always manages to somehow pull you away from it and perfectly shoots at the guy.

once you had reached the ground floor, the receptionist that was there was now holding a gun.

“you deserve this.” he says. sunoo pushes you away and the both of you fall to the ground. jay shoots the guy, he falls to the ground. all three of you ran over to the car and once you were inside, they start driving away quickly.

there were sirens coming from behind. it was clear that despite being trained for 2 months and getting used to the life, you were still scared. sunoo lifts up your chin with this finger.

“hey, listen to me. we won’t let you die. i won’t let you die. we’ll do everything in our power to keep you safe.”

you nod quickly. jay opens up the door and shoots. a few of the men that were with you guys were also shooting too. they drove off and made a few rounds to lose the people that were following the car. once they lose the bad guys and the cops, the car drives back to the current base.

“shit, we almost died.” jay says. he swipes off the blood that he received when the bullet had graced his cheek.

sunoo cups your face. making sure there were no scars or bruises on you, it was clear he was worried about you. he stares right into your eyes and leans in. your eyes had fluttered closed. you felt his soft lips on yours. It felt like the world around them faded as he brushed a stray hair from her face, his fingers brushing past her cheeks caressing it lightly. it felt like a quiet confession of his love, he never even gave much hints about liking you.

When he finally pulled away, he rests his forehead against yours, a soft smile grazed the corner of his lips. “i’ve been waiting to do for so long but i never had the courage to do so.”

“well, you should’ve done it sooner.” the both of you laughed a little. jay clears his throat, he nudges his head to the others.

“well, you got an audience witnessing that kiss. congrats you two for realising how oblivious you two had feelings for each other.” he says. you had rolled your eyes. sunoo’s hands reached down to hold yours, squeezing it a little.

“so…guess we have a new mission?” ni-ki says.

“operation beat jake’s brother.” jungwon says.

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[pillow-priestess]

What You Really Are

2.3k word story about a proud fae recognizing a 'human''s lack of humanity, and treating it accordingly by welcoming a new pet to Her estate. Content warning for one quickly quashed moment of suicidal ideation.

SNAP.

The grand double doors of the manor swung open behind me at their Lady’s beckoning, letting a rush of cool air into the entrance hall. With a sadistic smile and a glint in Her caprine eyes, She materialized a silver spear from the air, gripping the haft and slamming it twice on the stone floor, creating two deep echoing booms that made me jump a little. Distantly, I could hear the baying of hounds. 

“Well? The Hunt has begun, little guest. You have ten minutes to flee into the forest, before my pets and I allow ourselves to follow. They’re already counting down, so I’d pick up the pace if I were you.” 

The sheeplike fae smirked, obviously looking forward to the inevitable end of Her Hunt. 

“Show us a good time, and perhaps I’ll grant you a place in the kennel! Otherwise, it’ll be straight to the kitchens for… tonight’s…”

The expression faded, Her divine face shifting into a quizzical look as She realized I hadn’t moved, hadn’t even looked behind me at my supposed escape offer. I simply stood, shoulders sagging, tiredly meeting Her gaze. I knew this wasn’t how it’s supposed to go. I should be reinvigorated, adrenaline should be pumping through me, I should be running and bounding and grasping and clawing at the chance to survive and escape Her realm. But it wasn’t happening. I was exhausted. Not even this could change that. 

I opened my mouth to speak, but had to cough before I could even get some words out. It was dry and rattling, but was enough to clear my throat, at least.

“Just… get it over with. I’m not gonna give you a good hunt. I can’t,” I sighed. I was tired before I’d stumbled my way into Her woods, and being welcomed into Her manor only exacerbated that. I found my eyes sweeping the hall again, taking in the pastoral paintings, the soft carpets, the plush furniture. All things that a true Lady of the Fae would use to decorate Her estate, and all things that would be more than welcome back at my home. Looking at them exhausted me. Even if I made it back to the human realm, even if I went back to my life and my job and my little apartment, I’d never be able to stop thinking about how nice this place seemed. How I’ll never be able to afford anything of this quality. Given the choice between that and a quick end at Her feet, well…

“I’m… sorry, I guess. Clearly you enjoy this. But it’s just not worth the effort for me. I couldn’t give you a good time if I tried,” I looked back to Her, and found Her emotionless expression matching my own. “I hope I at least make a good meal for y-”

SNAP.

The doors closed smoothly, with none of the dramatic impact they’d had before. She released Her spear, and it dissipated into the aether it’d come from. Her hooves clicked softer than they should have on the stone as She took three slow steps towards me. The Lady towered over me, at least twice my height, but She crouched down to lift me up to Her in a hand big enough for me to sit on. Despite my exhaustion, a twinge of fear rippled through me, but Her other hand gently gripped my shoulders from behind to ease my shiver. She was about as warm as I expected, given the well groomed light brown wool that covered Her arms and legs. A finger tilted my head up, not letting me look away as She got a close and deep look into my eyes. No, not into my eyes - into something deeper, behind them, within me.

“Oh,” She muttered, eyes lighting up as She realized something. “Oh. I see. I understand now, dear. I’m sorry for scaring you.” 

There was a gravity behind Her words that resonated deeper within me than I expected. This was a different side of Her, now, one that wasn’t normally shown to humans. A true Lady would never admit wrongdoing to something not of Her home, something so beneath Her. So why was She apologizing to me? 

The hand that wasn’t holding me swiveled around my head, and two digits pressed into my scalp and rubbed themselves down my neck and back. I shuddered, and it wasn’t from fear this time. Her touch was so firm yet comforting, and that warmth of Hers seemed to bloom down my spine in a gentle wave. There was a light, soft, musical noise between us, and it took me a second to realize it had spilled out of my mouth. 

“Wh… what do you…?”

She stopped me with another long, drawn out stroke across my back, and I almost gasped at the pleasure.

“Shhh. Don’t speak, little one. You don’t deserve to put yourself through things that don’t befit you.” 

Something about that was like a dam breaking in my mind. I didn’t need to speak? It was an odd thing to hear, but inexplicably welcome to my tired brain. I grunted, nodding, and nuzzled into the next couple pets She deigned to give me. 

“Yes, I see now. You wouldn’t make a sporting Hunt at all. I only hunt humans, those silly little things; they make for the most entertaining game. Few escape, and most are ultimately made tired enough to give in and accept a life as one of my pets.” 

She was talking more to Herself than to me, and my mind barely processed most of the words. They were like a blanket running over my brain; soft, comforting, but nothing that I cared to stop and grab and focus on. At least until the end. Something about… ‘life as a pet’...? 

She noticed me stirring, and graced me with a beautiful smile. 

“That’s right. You don’t need to go through all of that. You’ve never been human, have you? You wear their form, but not by choice. It’s wrong on you. It’s a performance. Like a hound standing on two legs to please its master. But it gets so tiring after so long… and you’ve never truly been rewarded for it, either…” 

That got my attention. What was She talking about? I… of course I was human. I spoke human words and thought human thoughts and worked a human job and engaged in human society, just like a good human is supposed to. Sure, it was tiring, and I’d been struggling to stay afloat since the beginning of adulthood, but that’s life, isn’t it? 

“No, dear. That’s not what life is supposed to be. Not even for most humans, and certainly not for an animal like you.” She punctuated the statement with a hug, pressing my body into Her chest, rubbing my front into the silken fabric of Her long dress. It felt divine enough that I didn’t even consider the fact that She’d somehow read the thoughts right out of my mind.

“And I couldn’t live with myself if I was needlessly cruel to a poor little animal shivering on my doorstep…” 

Her words’ nuance to me was starting to dissolve, again. I was comfortable here. Warm. Safe. Held. That’s what mattered. She wasn’t going to hunt me, and She wasn’t going to let me go back to that old life, either. She’d seen some kind of undeniable truth about me, and the way She was treating me, I didn’t see any reason to fight or question Her. Especially when being held like this was preferable to mustering any energy to move around. 

She turned, still cradling me, starting to walk deeper into Her manor. Her hand continued to stroke and pet me, keeping me pressed into Her bosom, nice and warm and comfortable as She carried me into the unfamiliar. Even as She stepped onto the soft carpets of the inner halls, the soft footfalls of Her hooves still seemed as powerful and attention grabbing as the clacking they made on stone. I could hear other footsteps passing us in both directions, the clink of jewelry, the ruffling of dresses, quiet greetings and gratitude offered to Her that I never fully processed. She met each of them with an approving nod, but only continued to mutter to me, soothing me with a constant stream of words. 

“Now, the question lies, what exactly are you, hm? Normally, visitors from your realm become one of my hounds, and live a most entertaining life throughout my estate. They play and hunt and entertain my guests, but I suspect that that life might be a little high energy for you. No, you’ll be a different kind of pet, I think.

Perhaps a cat? There are several that wander my grounds or accompany my daughters. Cats have all manner of dispositions, and a little thing as soft and warm as you would fit in well… but not perfect. No, I don’t think you’re a cat, either. Too independent.” 

I found myself agreeing with every word. Maybe I would make a good pet. She was already being so nice to me, and I didn’t even properly belong to Her yet. The idea of staying with Her forever, to be adored and doted upon, as a simple animal in Her care… the exhaustion gripping my body had fully shifted from stress to need. 

“Not a bunny either, or a ferret. Much as I’d love another adorable little fuzzball for my collection, I can’t exactly see you zooming about in a playful frenzy, dear. No…” 

I heard the creaking of a wooden door, and my Lady took several final steps before sitting and sinking into a large plush armchair. With a lap to better hold me, now, She pulled me out of the indentation I’d made in Her dress to lay me across Her thighs. I dazedly blinked up at Her, eyes adjusting to the dimmer candlelight of what was clearly a private room. She smiled warmly down at me, once again filling me with that lovely warmth of simply pleasing Her. Yes, that definitely confirmed it. I was made to be Her pet. 

Sensing my renewed understanding, She began to pet me with both hands, one continuing to rub down my head and back while the other traced circles over my stomach. I moaned with pleasure, doing my best to nuzzle into Her touch, lightly squirming to help Her get my most sensitive spots. The motion seemed to inspire something in Her, and Her smile glinted with satisfaction. 

“Ah! Of course, it’s so obvious! And exactly the kind of pet I need, to boot!” 

I whimpered in Her lap, anticipation building for Her verdict. I needed this. I needed to be told what I am. I’d waited so long, pursued the wrong answer all my life. This is what I deserved. Becoming Her perfect pet would be the kind of freedom I never had the space to search for. 

The hand behind me cradled my head, and I gasped as She brought me up close, filling my vision with Her divinely beautiful face. She drew a finger up my collar, up my neck, stopping at my chin with a pointed nail pressing into my chin.

“You,” She stated firmly, without any room for doubt, “are my beloved, prized, gorgeous snake.” 

I was, I am, Her snake. The concept had never entered my head before that moment, but it shattered any remaining delusions like a bullet through a window. My body tingled all over, shuddering at the sensation, yearning to be granted my true form at Her desire. And, as She continued to cradle and explain to me, I began to change. 

“It’s so simple, but so perfect, isn’t it? You’re not loud, or haughty, or excitable. You’re soft. You’re content with me, on me, around me. All you need to do is keep warm and fat and satisfied, and I can provide you with that for as long as you live.”

Feeling had left my limbs. My skin was shifting, stretching, reshaping itself at Her unspoken command. I couldn’t stop staring at Her loving face, even as the perspective and colors through which I saw the world changed alongside my body. 

“And such a pretty snake you are, too! Those gorgeous glimmering scales, such a perfect orange and white to complement my wool… oh, and look at how big you’ve grown in my care! You could wrap yourself all around my forearm, now, couldn’t you?”

She was right. My scales were beautiful, so soft and shiny for my owner. She’d taken such good care of me, and wrapping around Her to show my gratitude always felt divine! I happily, lazily slithered around the hand that had been holding my head, then down Her arm and back up again, nuzzling Her palm and tasting it with flicks of my tongue. My heightened sense of smell meant that I constantly took in Her scent, and it felt wonderful to my little snakey brain. It felt right. It was where I belonged. 

I was rewarded with more strokes down my head and upper body, and with a practically glowing warmth from Her body heat that more than made up for my lack of it. She cooed over me, Her newest pet, standing back up and bringing me up to Her face for a kiss on the snout. I submitted happily, coils loose on Her arm with contentment, elated to be Hers in body and soul. Her hand shifted to one of Her great curling horns, touching it with two fingers in a gesture I already understood to mean ‘move here.’ I slithered off of Her wool and onto the curving keratin, practically a playground for me to wrap myself over and around. 

As She left Her private room with me proudly displayed amongst Her horns, I snaked my way over to Her ear, curling around it lightly and nuzzling my head underneath. I couldn’t see from this angle, but I knew She was smiling at me. 

She always would be. 

She always is. 

I couldn’t be a luckier pet. 

[harrisonarchive]

Photo by David Magnus.

“I hit it off with George Harrison as soon as we met. We kept running into each other at parties and gatherings and always found our eyes meeting no matter how many other people were in the room.  George and I talked whenever we’d see each other. We found we liked the same things, long walks while wearing comfortable clothes and being with sincere people who liked us for ourselves and not because we were in show business. I think I was the happiest when I was talking with George. There was something about him that made me open up and spill out anything that was on my mind. I think he felt the same way, for he’d often call late in the evening and talk on the phone for hours. […] Neither of us felt any obligations, we just enjoyed being there together.  George playing and I, listening. […] Over there [at home in England] he’s at his best, he’s relaxed, he’s George Harrison, Englishman and not George Harrison, Beatle.” - Estelle Bennett, Photoplay (?) “George saw Estelle and flew over to her [at the Plaza Hotel in February 1964].” - Steve Brandt (journalist), Photoplay, June 1964

"Estelle and I went out on double dates with John and George a couple more times before we left London. They’d take us to all these romantic white-tablecloth restaurants, but once we got there all they’d want to talk about was American rock and roll. ‘Tell us about the Temptations,‘ George would say. Then John would ask, ‘What’s Ben E. King really like?‘ So we’d just go down the list, telling them stories about all the acts we worked with at the Brooklyn Fox. And as we’d talk, John and George would sit there like they were hypnotized. [...]

That night [ in NYC] John and George picked up Estelle and me in a limousine for a feast of ribs and chicken at Sherman’s Barbecue on 151st and Amsterdam in Harlem. And they loved it. Sherman’s is just a little takeout counter today, but back in 1964 it was beautiful, with lots of tables and a great big jukebox in back. But for the Beatles, the best part of all was that they could eat in peace. They may have been mobbed at the Plaza, but very few of their fans followed them into Harlem. In fact, the Beatles were no big deal up in Harlem. The people at Sherman’s were not exactly Murray the K’s crowd. They took one look at these guys with their long hair and funny clothes and went back to their ribs. If anything, they might have thought the Beatles were dorks. But you can bet Sherman never forgot that day. Every so often I still go into Sherman’s for takeout, and whenever I do, Sherman comes out from the kitchen to say hello. ‘I remember you!’ he always says. ‘You’re the little girl that brought the Beatles!’” - Ronnie Spector, Be My Baby (1990)

[byte-babe]

Bullworth, After Hours

Characters - Pete Kowalski/Eleanor Kowalski

Summary - Pete's summer self-discovery.

Word Count - 901

Warnings - N/A

A/N - This is a sneak peek of a fanfic I'm working on (still reworking the first chapter). If you have any feedback or chapter suggestions (because i have no idea where this can lead to) let me know !! ^^

Summer break for Pete Kowalski had been eventful to say the least; now that he had accepted his new found self.

He came out to his parents a week into the break, telling them about all the little thoughts he’s been having since the 9th grade and how they’ve gradually gotten bigger and less easy to ignore.

Both of his parents are very loving and understanding people and have always shown support when it came to their child, so talking to them was a lot easier than Pete had anticipated.

He honestly expected his parents to call him crazy and shut the whole thing down since he had no idea where their views on the LGBT+ community stand, but they showed no signs of rejection. They didn’t really get it, which meant they’d have to do some research on the matter like Pete did before, but they agreed that they would do their best to understand and provide support.

It took a while for them learn more about the entire thing, but they eventually got it and even found a good gender-affirming consoler that he could see.

The first few minutes within the meeting were nerve-racking.

So many questions about who he was, what he wanted, and how he felt. Each question felt like it was peeling back a layer he hadn’t even realized was there. It was overwhelming, but at the same time, a strange relief.

He was told about HRT and how most male to female people who wanted to be more feminine use it to reduce the testosterone levels in their bodies and add in more estrogen, helping to align the person’s body with how they feel inside.

Pete never knew that there were ways a person could change their appearance other than surgery. It was very tempting, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to take that big of a step yet.

The doctor suggested that he should start off with something and try other forms of self-expression that makes him more comfortable such as clothing, hair changes, or even makeup. And once he felt good about it all, then they could discuss about medical options.

During the second month of summer, Pete had spent his time experimenting with the ways he could express himself more in a more feminine way. He started with a name change and pronouns.

His mother suggested ‘Eleanor’ for a new name since it was the name she picked if she ended up having a girl.

Eleanor liked that name. She couldn’t explain why, but it just resonated with her.

As fun as it all was—spending long summer days with her mom and navigating the lifestyle of a girl, trying different clothes, using subtle makeup, and even being able to start HRT during the first few days of August— Eleanor had to go back to school.

The start of the school year was getting closer and closer with the heavy, burning weight of anxiety making itself at home in the bottom of Eleanor’s stomach.

She even asked— begged her parents to let her be homeschooled, but it was never up to debate, especially since she only had one year left of high school now.

Might as well just get it over with instead of going through a whole process of getting transferred to a homeschooling program.

This meant Eleanor had to enter Bullworth as someone different. Not only that, but she knew she might have to correct people when it came to her name and labels.

Maybe it would all be that bad, considering that she didn’t have much of a reputation there and people barley knew her name or who she was anyways.

Her and her parents talked to Dr. Crabblesnitch a week prior to the start of the school year about the changes.

Even though he wouldn’t, couldn’t, and shouldn’t admit to it, Eleanor could tell he wasn’t fond of the changes. Yet he had no choice but to oblige.

He would lose money if he did. That’s all he cared about.

With these new changes, Eleanor still resided in the boy dormitory. It wasn’t up to her, Crabblesnitch made that decision.

She couldn’t really be upset with that though, thinking that she wasn’t where she wanted to be in terms of looks, it was the safer choice.

She didn’t want to risk making the girls uncomfortable and would instead have to deal with whatever insults or harassments the boys would do to her.

She dealt with it before, so what would be the difference?

At least Gary wouldn’t be there. He’d just make her life a living hell.

She had been visiting him occasionally in Happy Volts over break— before she started using estrogen, so he had no idea about anything.

She never told him anything.

Why would she visit Gary anyways? The one mentally insane person who turned the entire school into a battlefield and against Jimmy just to fuel his narcissistic personality and own twisted desire for total control?

Because Eleanor was a compassionate person.

And— sad to admit it— but he was also the first friend she made when she came to Bullworth.

Whenever she did visit, he would be on an array of medication which made him oddly calm.

Still an asshole, but calm.

He never seemed to mind the company either; if Eleanor was correct, he looked as if he actually enjoyed it.

[truelotus]

Hello, I really liked it💜💜

I don't mind if you ask, My beloved Aizen

It was a deal that Aizen had to defeat Yhwach. And they bring her to him. He makes her pregnant and carries his child.

𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫�� 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧

Character: Sosuke Aizen

Warning : Vaginal Sex, female reader, pregnancy, unprotected sex, missionary, dominant aizen, submissive reader, dirty talking + more

The head captain, Shunsui Kyoraku. Had come down to the muken prison. To make a deal with one of the most notorious criminal.

The soul society was at an unimaginable loss right now, they were going to need help. He had no shame coming to this man for help, he was more ashamed of the deal he was about to make with this man.

“I’m not asking for you to fight for the soul society, but.. if you did. I’m willing to bring her to you.”

This caught Aizen’s attention, he wasn’t shocked to learn that you were still alive, but the fact that he could see you once again.. it brought him to pure joy.

Sosuke Aizen had little regrets, but his biggest regret would have to be getting himself sealed away to muken prison. Sealed far away from you.. he thought about the actions he did but never once felt guilty about anything. What he really did feel guilty about was leaving you out there alone.

Maybe it was a selfish thought of his but, he wished that you too, could be sealed away with him.

“I see.”

Aizen stepped forward, “Though I cannot say I am fond of your use of her in this manner. The opportunity to see her once more, leaves me with little room to refuse.”

Shunsui chuckled at his words, “I’ll go fetch her for you then.”

You were in the middle of healing somebody with your kaidō skills, you are very skilled with kaidō so instead of fighting you were healing everyone you saw was injured.

Just then, you could hear footsteps approaching behind you. You quickly turned your head, afraid that it would be an enemy.

“C-Captain Kyoraku!” You were surprised to see him here, not fighting at the front lines.

“Ah, hello my dear. It seems that you are really putting yourself to work.” He said as he watched you heal the wounds of the person.

“Yes! I’m doing the best I can to keep everyone alive.” Even though all your friends and comrades were all fighting, leading themselves to death or getting hurt by the quincies, you still had a smile on your face.

Because no matter what happened to them, you would be able to heal them and bring them back to their feet. That is how much of a talent you have with kaido, you were trained by Unohana after all, it is no surprise how well of a healer you are.

“I thank you Y/N, unfortunately I’m going have to stop you. There’s someone I want you to meet.” For some reason, you felt that it wasn’t going to be good.

You swallowed the lump in your throat while stopping your kido. “If it is who I think it is, then I am not coming with you.” You picked up the now healed person, carrying their body somewhere where they’d be safe until they woke up.

“I’m afraid that you have no choice Y/N, I made a deal with him.”

You could feel your heart drop to your toes, a deal? what kind of deal?

“What kind of deal did you make with that man..” You balled your fists up, nails digging into the skin of your palm. Afraid of what he might say next.

“That if I bring you to him, he’ll do his part on helping the soul society, and bring down Yhwach.”

The head captain was just going to throw you at him? While knowing your traumatic experience with him?

You once loved that man, but now with the help of Byakuya Kuchiki, head of the Kuchiki clan. You were slowly moving on. And even Byakuya was beginning to move on from his past lover..

You’d restart your whole process if you saw Sosuke again, you’d hurt Byakuya too..

“I refuse.”

“You leave me with no choice!” Suddenly Shunsui disappeared in front of you, but then he appeared behind you. He picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder.

“Let! kick go! punch of! kick me!” You kicked and punched him while he carried you over his shoulder, eventually you stopped when accepting your faith, you were now mentally preparing yourself to see him again.

Sooner or later, Shunsui carefully and gently placed you on the ground.

You could feel him.

He wasn’t touching you.

But you could feel his eyes staring you down..

You didn’t dare to look up at him, you looked down at your feet, fiddling with your fingers. You can’t look at him again, you’d be under his spell once again if you did.

“You hold your head quite low, my dear. Why not raise it so I can gaze upon that beautiful face I so dearly miss?” His tone was smooth and calm, his voice was as charming as ever.

Your body moved on its own, you tried so hard to stop yourself but you just couldn’t resist.

Slowly, you raised your head up, meeting his gaze. Your hands were now to your chest, your hands were balled up together.

“Sosuke..” You muttered out, you knew everything was over for you when you made eye contact with him. You were once again wrapped around his finger.

“Now that I’ve seen you.. I can be at ease now. Do not fret my dear, I’ll save your precious seireitei.”

You and Sosuke had just gotten your new home in the world of the living, you will be staying with him here so keep him tamed. It was really all thanks to Kisuke Urahara.

He developed a device that could restrain half of his power, but for it to fully work, Sosuke needed to live in the world of the living. So, central 46 agreed that he could finish his sentence there but someone needed to keep watch on him, Shunsui Kyoraku spoke out and suggested that it should be you.

So here you are, in a nice cozy home. With Sosuke Aizen.

It’s been so long since the last time the two of you were alone together, and knowing Sosuke.. he was going to take advantage of the opportunity. The two of you were in the bedroom, unpacking.

“Isn’t this place lovely Sosuk-” He had come up behind you, interrupting your sentence. You could feel something hard rubbing against your behind.

“It’s been a while since I’ve last slept with you, you don’t know how much I’ve missed you.” You could feel him leaving kisses around your neck, you could feel his hand slipping under your shirt, reaching to your breast.

“You’re too much sometimes Sosuke..” You were just about to push him off until he pushed you onto the bed.

Oh wow he was really going for it hard

You saw as he undressed himself, throwing his clothes on the ground. When he saw you still fully dressed, he took matters into his own hands and began to rip off your clothes. This man was starving for you.

It all happened so fast, you didn’t stop him from undressing you because you were too busy at starring at his hard cock, you could see it twitch when he removed your panties.

He climbed onto the bed, he was hovering over your body. You looked beautiful under him, he loved and missed seeing your beautiful face all flushed up under him.

Right now, he wanted nothing more than painting your walls white with his cum, he doesn’t know what got to him but he had the sudden urge to fill your pussy to the max with his cum, to make sure that you will carry his child. He wanted to see you pregnant with his child.

“I want to see that pretty little cunt filled with my cum, I’d love for you to carry my child.” Without any warnings, sosuke slid his hard shaft right into your glistening cunt.

Your walls sucked him in, his eyes were focused on yours the whole time when he began to push his cock in and out of your cunt.

But he couldn’t help by looking at your bouncing breasts, they went up and down with each thrust he did. He dug his nails deep into the skin of your hips, it was almost too much for him.

Oh how he missed you..

He was pounding your walls soo good, you could see him biting his lip to resist himself from moaning.

But he couldn’t hold himself back, you could hear him grunting as he pounded himself faster into you.

He was hitting your good spot with each thrust, he lowered his face to meet with yours, forehands touching. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pushing him so he could be further into your cunt.

He smashed his lips against yours, it was a sloppy kiss but it felt incredible still. You missed him and he missed you. You parted your lips to let out your moans, so he could hear of how much of a good job he was doing.

His tongue slithered into your mouth, tasting you. The both of you moaned into each other’s mouths.

Your back arched at how good his cock was feeling you up, your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

It wouldn’t take long for him to finish inside of you, he then imagined your pussy being so filled with his cum that it spilt out of your pussy.

And that little scenario set him off, he came inside of you, you could feel his warm sees filling you up just nicely.

He stayed like that for a few seconds, but he didn’t remove his cock from you..Instead he continued thrusting into you, your walls were filled with his cum yet he continued to fuck your pussy.

The cum swirled around your walls with each thrust he made, he was going to make sure that you ended up pregnant. So he continued to fuck your cum filled pussy.

He was going to fuck your pussy until he simply couldn’t cum anymore for the night, you were going to milk him dry.

It was certainly going to become a long night..

You were putting breakfast on Sosuke’s plate and onto yours, you made sure you added extra on yours.

You were now eating for two, you needed to give your child as much nutrients as possible so they could become a healthy and strong baby.

Just then you could hear Sosuke sneaking up behind you, hugging your figure gently. His hands rested on your now round belly.

He didn’t think you could look even more beautiful, but when he noticed your stomach growing from carrying his child, he appreciated your beauty even more. Your beauty really was like a gift from the gods.

“How is he holding up?” He said as he rested his chin on top of your head.

“He seems to be doing just fine, I realized that he kicks more whenever he hears your voice.” Sosuke hummed as he then felt a kick from your stomach.

“You know you really shouldn’t be overdoing things, you need to rest more. Leave everything to me will you?” He said as he removed himself from you, dragging you away from the food so you could sit down and he could serve you breakfast.

“I know I know.. But I can’t help it!”

He chucked and moved your hair from your forehead, leaving a little kiss on it.

Maybe this is what he longed for, to have a family. The idea of being a father never interested him but when he had that sudden urge that one night, he couldn’t help but smile at the thought of having a family with you.

“Please, Let this husband of yours take care of you and the baby.”

Hm.

Yeah this is definitely where he wants to be at, he wanted nothing more than this now.

He can’t wait for the day he sees his child in your arms.

[aleburton]

Alex slipped effortlessly back into her position at the bar, poised and balanced atop her towering designer platforms. Even with the added height, Zach still loomed over her, his presence inescapable. She glanced up at him, one perfectly arched brow lifting in silent amusement —Really? Her hands smoothed over the crushed velvet of her Dolce & Gabbana dress, fingertips cascading over the soft curves of her hips, an absentminded gesture. She exhaled slowly, her gaze drifting across the room, where Kylie stood swathed in warm light, radiant and effortless. “Well, let’s see,” she murmured, her voice smooth as silk. Her dark eyes traced the contours of Kylie’s petite frame, admiring her the way one might admire a perfectly crafted porcelain doll. Delicate, pristine, untouchable.

“Blonde. Beautiful. Petite. And,” she added, lips beginning to curve upward, “she’s unlikely to hurl a bottle of wine past your head.” A smirk danced across her features as she allowed the thought to linger. She wondered about their arguments, if they even had them. Did they disagree in soft voices, resolving their issues with careful words and understanding? Or did Zach ever lose himself in his anger, his temper simmering just beneath the surface, just waiting to be unleashed? And when they made up, was it tender? Slow and sweet, their bodies tangled in silk sheets, whispering apologies between kisses? Barf. Zach and Alex had never been that kind of couple. Maturity was not their strong suit. Passion? Destruction? That, they had mastered.

She had always loved the thrill of walking away in the heat of an argument. The power of leaving him stewing in his own frustration, slamming a door in his face, locking him out of a room, her home, her life. She relished the chaos of it, the way he’d flood her phone with missed calls and unread messages, relentless in his pursuit of resolution or revenge. And when she finally decided to answer, the fight would pick up right where it left off, voices low and venomous, each word another carefully aimed dagger. If they happened to be together, the tension could snap in an instant, turning volatile depending on what toxins had been swimming in their bloodstreams that night. But God, the way it always ended.

Every argument, every shattered glass, every tear-streaked accusation led them back to the same place. Back to each other. Their bodies colliding with the same reckless force as their words, a feverish entanglement of desperation and desire. It was raw. Consuming. Addictive. And in the afterglow, skin damp, breaths still ragged, fingers lazily tracing the aftermath of their mayhem, they’d forget why they were even fighting to begin with. It was unhealthy. Toxic. Damn near lethal. And yet, it was the best she had ever known. Nothing had ever come close since. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t recreate it, couldn’t mimic that electric pull, that madness that somehow made perfect sense in its destruction. She wondered if he thought the same.

“The exact opposite of me,” she declared suddenly, the words spilling from her lips, bold and unfiltered. The espresso martinis had begun their work, loosening her tongue, unraveling the tightly wound threads of her self-restraint. She lifted her hands in mock surrender, a smile teasing at the corners of her mouth. “And I’m not one to judge. Clearly, I took a turn in the opposite direction as well.” Laughter bubbled up from deep in her chest. She allowed the silence to stretch for a moment, as if waiting for him to argue or challenge her. “Well, I suppose he does fit my track record,” Alex mused, tilting her head slightly. Her gaze flickered back to Zach, sharp and assuming. “You, on the other hand. I didn’t realize you liked blondes that much.”

She paused, her mind sifting through the catalog of names and faces, searching for the right one. Her hand lifted, fingers twirling absently in the air as if trying to pluck the memory from thin air. “Except for…” Her lips pursed, the name eluding her. With a sudden spark of recollection, her eyes lit up. “Aubrey,” she announced, “but that’s a different story.” Oh, Aubrey. Alex wondered how she was these days, if the patch of hair on her head had ever grown back after Alex had so graciously removed her extensions. Of course, there was also Tasha, the one who had always prowled too close, hell-bent on sinking her teeth into Zach. Maybe she had finally accomplished her mission. “Good times,” she drawled sarcastically. With a quiet chuckle, she let her hand rest comfortably against her stomach, her fingers idly tracing invisible patterns over her dress.

In truth, he wasn’t exactly certain how she’d respond. Many things about him had changed, slipped away or rebuilt themselves, but his propensity to push could be traced back beyond even what memory could serve. A little boy with ruddy cheeks and a wicked laugh, seeing how much he could say, how far he could take things, until something (or someone) gave. Only now, he was all stretched and shaped out, full and heavy and healthy, grown enough to know better but still doing it anyway. What did knowing better even mean? What he knew better was that when he pushed, Alex pulled. As instinctual as a reflex test, a hammer to the knee. He had known better than to allow himself to be sweet-talked into this whole predicament. He had known better the moment after Alex had made the decision to lie that first day, to deny their past, to deny they had ever met at all. It hadn't stopped him then, and it wouldn't stop him now. Some cataclysm, some monumental consequence, had always been afoot since he'd stepped out of that elevator and into The Dupree penthouse suite. They had stamped it out years ago. To do so again would just be denying whatever deity that kept bringing them together the catharsis of a gratifying ending. Perhaps God was just as perverse as them.

Zach thought she could have swung any direction. Face twisted in disgust, she could’ve stormed away. Eyes turned to lines, she could’ve delivered something cruel and true, to shut him up. The goal, however, would always resemble the same shady silhouette; to put him in his place. When she turned to look at him, though, he recognized he’d failed to consider the most damning outcome. She smirked. Ah, fuck. "Dying to," he mumbled without conviction, dismantled already by only a look. Her body turned toward his and his eyes darkened. Her voice emerged upon a lusty cloud, breathy and swooping, sucking the room dry. He felt the bass of the music thump through the floor to the soles of his feet, but he couldn’t hear it. She drew nearer. His lip twitched, but otherwise he remained rigid, alarm bells blaring in his mind. She was close enough now that he was engulfed in her; chocolate and coffee and vodka and mint on her breath, the faint smell of berries from her lip gloss, the drowning scent of her perfume. His lips parted to say something, anything, but his throat was dry. His mind was empty.

His body responded before his brain had even caught up; the flick of her finger, the delicate scrape of a manicured nail just below his waistline and into his pocket. He flinched from shoulder to toe, only his hips relenting to the subtle tug of her curled digit. "Alex," he snapped quietly, reprimanding her. Her action was blanketed in dim light, so small to anyone else as to be almost imperceptible, but it almost took him out by the knees. Zach blew out a sharp, short breath through his nose, attempting to assess their situation. But his brain was so foggy, no thought made any sense at all. She buzzed in him, spread everywhere, fast and sudden, like a goddamn plague. This play, in front of all these people, in front of Kylie and her fiancé and the entire industry, was fucking bold. Zach level bold. He was quite immobilized by it. She breathed like the very sensation of air coating her throat, filling out her lungs, was nothing less than erotic. The blood rushed from his brain, from his more crucial extremities, to stir violently in his abdomen. Zach's tongue curled in his mouth and he bit down on it to fend off the sensation building below his belt. Oh, sincerely, fuck you, he thought silently. 

Then she spoke. He was barely-there. She knew this would fuck with him, sure, but did she know to what degree? Her curled fingers slid against his thigh, and his mind imploded. He thought he had remembered, with alarming clarity, what she felt like against him. Around him. But the simple stroke brought the brute force of those memories back like a fucking car crash. She cooed to him, drawing up toward his face, and despite himself his chin jutted smoothly forward as though making to meet her in the middle. He felt her breath on his lips, and it made him crazy. To kiss her now would be to outplay her. But it would also be to blow this whole thing up before they’d even had chance to start. Besides, he was paralyzed. Even as tense as he was, as fucking incriminating as he knew this entire scene to be, he was entirely disarmed. Helpless to it. Alex found what she was looking for. In one swift motion, she freed her hand from his pocket and slapped the thick wad of his wallet against his chest, then giggled almost innocently. He deflated at once, air rushing from his bloated lungs. “Cute,” Zach muttered defensively. His hand came down hard over top of hers, sticking her to his pounding heart. “Very fucking cute,” he chastised in a low voice, breathless as though having just finished a marathon.

Zach refused to take a step back, despite their incriminating proximity. That would be too similar to standing down. This close, he could see her freckles threatening to bloom beneath her makeup, and the smell of her was making him feel a little high. He was halfway to cooking up a plan to rival hers, to match her crazy, or even better, outdo it altogether. But then she said something, and his intrigue stifled his creativity. His eyebrows crept marginally higher on his forehead, and he slipped his wallet out from beneath her grasp. It flattened under his heavy palm upon the bar. “Is it?” he asked, genuine curiosity flickering beneath his tongue. Fleetingly, Zach’s eyes fled from Alex’s perfect face across the room, Kylie’s golden head unspooling beneath a well-placed light as she laughed at something Andrew said. Alex breathed, and he felt the fabric of her dress drag against his arm. His attention came tumbling back to her. He hated her from this angle; almost a foot beneath him and gazing up, doe-eyed, with that shit-eating-fucking-grin. His head was a mess. “Fine, I’ll bite. What’s obvious?”

[yikes077]

Man I’ve got to stop simping for fictional, unattenable men. I’m going to be alone for so long

[zoennes]

30 NOVEMBER, 2019 • ZATERDAG, 09:41

[not-neverland06]

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.

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp

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

[gghostwriter]

Wanted: A Gentleman

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Part 2 || Future take Summary: Your lovely group of friends, Penelope, JJ, and Emily, set you up with your perfect match Trope: Fluff! Just fluff! w.c: 1.3k a/n: Back at it again with something miss Sabrina Carpenter inspired. The fluff idea has finally struck and I love how this ended up, even without any editing! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 💗 masterlist

“I’m serious!” You clarified, wiggling to get comfy on Penelope’s sofa. “It was the worst date I’ve ever been on!”

All the three girls laughed. It was Friday night, girl’s night, and you found yourself surrounded by the baddest girls Virginia could ever offer. The Powerpuff girls of the BAU as you once jokingly dubbed them—JJ being Blossom, Penelope being Bubbles, and Emily being Buttercup. Witty thinking on your part, if you say so yourself. 

Having just moved into the state just a few months ago, you were grateful for the ray of sunshine that Penelope was for taking you under her wing and introducing you to a great set of girlfriends.

“It can’t be that bad—” JJ giggled as she took a sip of her newly refilled glass wine. “Can it?”

Bringing out your phone, you swiped to the screenshot Bumble profile of your date the night before. He wasn’t bad looking, not at all. He was cute in a very American boy next door type of way but then again, his profile being filled with gym pictures should have clued you in.

“We had dinner at that newly opened restaurant, Palm & Pine, which is a great place by the way, but all he ever did was talk about himself—”

Emily nodded along. “Typical macho male behavior.”

“—that wasn’t even the worst part! He brought out a scale, a portable weighing scale, to log his macro calories in a fitness app!”

Penelope chose the wrong time to take a sip of her drink causing her cough violently while the two remaining girls threw back their heads and laughed hysterically. All you could hear were gasps of weighing scale and calories between them.

“I’m all for being healthy but really? On a first date?” You crossed your arms to your chest. “At this point, I might as well get a cat or two to keep me company.”

Penelope snatched your phone and clicked to open the dating app. “Oh no no, sweetheart. You’re too beautiful and nice to end up alone. We can find you a perfect man to love and take home with!”

“Yeah, we’re profilers. Trust us to pick for you,” Emily slyly added as she peeked behind Garcia’s shoulder.

Reaching out for the opened bottle of alcohol, you sighed in defeat and let the girls do their thing. “I’m going to need copious amounts of alcohol in my system for this.”

———

It was bad. Based on all their comments and numerous swipes to the left, the dating pool was atrocious, hell on earth. 

“He looks cute—” Penelope continue to scroll on his profile before making a face. “Never mind, look at that horrible grammar.”

JJ leaned in and read the poor man’s bio. “Theirs a million reasons why I’m your future boyfriend—Jesus, it’s really hard out there, huh?”

“I’d take any man who’s nice and breathes,” you laugh in despair. 

Emily’s eyes twinkle from a sudden idea. Everyone had been drinking continuously and the filter had been turned off by the time the third bottle was opened. Any thought made beyond just screamed bad idea. “You know, we could just set you up with Reid.”

“Reid?” you tilted your head to the side. What kind of a name is that? Its very…unique. “You have a co-worker named Reid? As in that’s his first name?”

“No, no, no. His name is Spencer, Reid is just his last name,” JJ clarified, leaning forward with a sweet smile on her face. Oh no, you knew that look. She was very much into this.

Penelope slides your phone to you and promptly claps her hands in glee. “You’re so right! Why didn’t I think of that!”

“Right,” Emily turned to face the other two. “They’d be great for each other. Now we just have to get him to agree. JJ—” the blonde raised her eyebrows. “—can you talk to Reid about it?”

She shrugged. “I could but you know how stubborn he is.”

“I’ll blackmail him if I have to,” Penelope interjected. “Boy genius needs to meet our own girl genius. They’ll be perfect for each other, he just doesn’t know it.”

Your eyes volleyed in between the three. “Don’t I have a say in this?”

Emily tsk’ed as she turned her inquisitive dark eyes on you. “I’ll cash in on that prize I won last time.”

“No,” you breathed out, remembering how you badly lost last poker night and vowed to do any dare the winner would tell you to do.

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes,” her smile growing wider and wider with each denial. 

Your shoulders slumped forward. “Fine but he better be the love of my life or you owe me big time.”

“Don’t worry your pretty head. He will be,” Penelope laughed, pouring more wine in all of the glasses. “Cheers!”

———

It took three weeks before the girls were finally able to wear the mysterious Dr. Spencer Reid down and in the midst of waiting (and stubbornly hoping that he would never give in), you learned more about the boy genius than you ever wished for. How he has an IQ of 187, graduated high school at the age of 12, has 3 PhDs under his belt, and an avid reader—like yourself. 

You begrudgingly admitted that he spiked your interest and having someone to talk to about books would be lovely but beyond that, you were slightly intimidated by his background which made yours, a literature degree graduate and publishing editor, seem insignificant. Penelope tried to squash that negative thought once you aired it out in the open by saying that Spencer wasn’t the type to judge anyone based on their societal standing. If anything, he’d find you interesting, she urged.

But there was one information you weren’t privy to, how he looks like. The girls didn’t want to show any photos, stating it’s best to see him face to face rather than through an image, which in turn made you imagine the worst. 

You looked around, standing on the second step of the museum as you try to spot any curly, hazel haired man walking your way. He wasn’t late, you were just too anxious to be fashionably late. 

Someone stopped in front of you at the bottom of the steps. 

“Are you—” the doe eyed stranger cleared his throat. “Y/N? Penelope’s friend?”

Oh damn. He was beautiful.

“Yes, are you Dr. Spencer Reid?” You squeaked. 

He smiled, stunning you into even more into awe. “Hi, yes. Yes, Spencer is fine.”

“Should we go inside?” You breathed out as you watched his cheeks reddened, no doubt matching the color of your own.

He nodded before slightly touching your arm to stop you in place and bending down like he was some kind of knight and shining armor and for all you knew, he could be. “Your shoelace is undone. Did you know that there’s more than 1,000 cases related to loss of footing each year and 67% of these falls were attribute to untied shoelaces?”

“We wouldn’t want to contribute to that, do we?” You quipped back as you studied how the sunlight hit his wavy locks, turning some into gold, and his doe expressive eyes with specs of green in them. Your favorite color as of today.

He laughed, his high pitched chuckle further capturing your heart. “Shall we?”

“We shall.” 

Your thoughts thanking the three women for setting you up with what seemed to be a perfect gentleman. 

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

just for tonight

a/n: sure, I was vigilantly working on a different wip (a very long one that needed a lot of strength to get through) but then this whole fantasy came to me and i just couldn't stop myself... at least i downgraded the idea from a full-fledged series (which i sadly very much do not have the time for) to just a slutty little one shot in an au that i can always pop back into whenever the itch pops up (or when anyone has a slutty request for it hehe).

summary: before you could even consider the possible consequences, a desperate request then fell from your lips, “well, what if I’m not asking you to be with me? What if it’s just for tonight? What if I’m only asking you to be with me for one night? Would you give me that?” you blinked up at him, scarcely breathing at all, “would you be mine just till the sun comes up?” 

warnings: bodyguard!bucky barnes x reader, smut, reader's mom is the british ambassador to france, age gap (10-15 years), tattooed!bucky (both a metal arm and tattoos as picked in a poll by you), beefy!bucky, forbidden romance, posh political party, alcohol consumption, wet dream, lingerie, stockings, one night stand (except we already know those fools can't keep it to just one night), kissing, dirty talk, manhandling, size kink, oral, fingering, impact play, squirting, gaping, belly bulge, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie

word count: 4907

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“You sure, you don’t want some?” you squinted over at your bodyguard as you lowered the champagne flute from your lips, “this shit costs more than my dress, which is really saying something,” you pointed to the red silk gown that hung from your frame, “this is Dior.”

“I’m good, miss,” Bucky uttered, tight-lipped as always. 

“Right, sorry,” you sat the glass down at the tall table you stood beside, “can’t drink while on duty.”

Posh parties such as the one tonight were always a bit of a drag to get through. Even though you’d been hauled along for most of your life, they’d never gotten any more amusing. 

But when your mother hired Barnes to be your personal bodyguard a few months back, the thought of getting dolled up just to have a bunch of provoking politicians talk your ear off about ideas you’d never in a million years support, somehow didn’t seem as bad as it used to now that he was constantly at your side. 

It had been a little incident involving your phone getting hacked, an explicit video nearly getting leaked, one that had been made for an ex who lived in another country to make the distance more barrable, and a few threatening messages from the perpetrator that had been the reason for your new shadow. 

Though you’d been resistant at first, storming into your mother’s office to state that you were a grown woman and didn’t need a babysitter just because someone tried to exploit an old sex tape that in your opinion wasn’t even that big of a deal, swiftly got squashed when a then stranger cleared his throat behind you and shared the more gruelling threats that had been made alongside the hacking. 

You’d hoped and prayed that he’d turn out to be a pain, that his personality could squash the feelings that fluttered inside of you whenever you looked at him, but unfortunately, he wasn’t an asshole. He was quiet, professional to a fault, but he wasn’t a dick. If anything, all of the silence and all of the glances to always keep track of you made the crush worse. It made you feel as if you were in a Jane Austen novel, reading between the lines of subtext your unreliable brain came up with.

“You tired?” he asked as a yawn rolled out of you. 

“Mhm,” you hummed behind the palm you had brought up to your lips. 

“The car’s ready to take you back to the embassy whenever you are.” 

A grateful smile twitched at your lip as you offered him a small nod of confirmation, “I’ll just go tell my mom.”

The ambassador, your mother, had her back turned to you as she talked business with a small group of people even though the hour had grown late. 

You waited for a sliver of a break before you tapped her on the shoulder and whispered in her ear.

“Hey, mom?” her palm found yours as she turned to look at you, “I’m gonna head home.”

“Oh, alright,” she leaned in and pressed a small peck to your cheek, “see you tomorrow, love.”

“Bye,” you gave her hand one last squeeze before heading out of the elegant venue, your guard still only a few paces behind you. 

A dusty drizzle met your skin as you exited onto the midnight streets of Paris. The sensation made you want to walk home, though you still followed Bucky to the black car already waiting and slipped in when he opened the back door for you. 

The light from the city reflected on the back of his metal hand as it gripped the steering wheel. You could faintly spot the prominent veins on the other one dance beneath the inked skin as it did the same, tattoos you still ached to discover just how far they stretched beneath his dark suit. 

Though soon your gaze flickered away from his silhouette as he drove, and fluttered out to the glittering cityscape rolling by, the vision of which swiftly lulled you to sleep. 

When you arrived home, Bucky’s steely eyes found your slumbering form in the rear-view mirror. You didn’t rouse when he opened your door and carefully picked you up into his arms. You didn’t wake either as he carried you inside, all the way up to your bedroom, and layed you down on your bed. 

Gently, he removed your heels and quietly placed them down on the hardwood floor before he grabbed your duvet and tugged it over your form. 

But just as he moved to leave your side, half asleep you caught his hand.

“Don’t go…” you murmured hazily, eyes still shut. 

And so, he didn’t.

Bucky simply reached for the tufted chair nearby and, as silently as he could, scooted it closer to the bed. 

Barely an hour passed before you woke. 

Before you even blinked open your eyes, your fingers began to slide down your body as the sinful dream you’d been blessed with still lingered in your foggy brain. 

Though when your eyes did flutter open and discovered the star of the dream sitting in a chair right next to you, your hand halted its voyage, and you sucked in a startled breath. 

“You okay?” he asked softly as you blinked a few times. 

“Uh,” the throbbing that still lingered from the dream probably wasn’t going to fade any faster with him sitting there with his unwavering stare, “yeah, I’m–, uhm…” you propped yourself up on your elbow before sitting up more, “I’m fine.” 

“Did you have a nightmare?”

“No, it wasn’t a–…” your sentence then crumbled as you sucked in a breath, “what are you doing watching me sleep?”

As you met his gaze, he then uttered, “you asked me to stay.”

Your eyes then widened, “I did?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh…” though you couldn’t recall, heat still began to bloom on your cheeks, “I’m sorry, I didn’t–”

“It's alright,” his shoulders offered a faint shrug. 

Averting your gaze, you noticed that you were still in your dress. You weren’t quite sure if it pleased you or not that Bucky didn’t try to strip it off you, though it was probably less the moral intentions and more the fantasy of him peeling it off of you that swayed you. 

“Were you just planning on sleeping in that chair all night?” you asked. 

“No,” he shook his head, “I wasn’t planning on sleeping at all.” 

A tinge of guilt stung in your chest, “I’m really sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking, I must have been asleep or something…” you then swung your legs over the side of the bed and got up. As your fingers raised up to pluck off your sparkling earrings, your feet began to carry you in the direction of your wardrobe. Dropping the jewellery off in a small porcelain bowl on the opposite bedside table, you then glanced back at your bodyguard and said, “you don’t have to stay any longer, you can go back to your room and get some sleep.” 

Offering you a nod, he then began to walk towards the door. 

Though, as you reached back to undo your dress, you abruptly uttered, “wait,” and he stopped before his steely fingers could enclose around the door handle. Turning to glance back at you, a bold request then hesitantly fell from your lips, “could you maybe help unzip me?”

He barely made a noise, simply hummed quietly in response before his slow stride carried him towards your frame as it twisted for your back to be turned to him.

When you felt his touch on the zipper, tugging it down ever so slowly, your breath came in ragged, and your eyes fluttered shut. You swore you felt his radiating heat seep into you as he exposed more of your goosebump-ridden spine. 

As the straps tumbled over your shoulders, your hands came up to your chest to hold it up even though you wished for nothing more than to let it drop before him.

And when the zipper finally reached its end, he lingered right behind you just long enough for you to catch the tether of it. Slowly, as if you were dealing with a skittish bird, you rotated around. You didn’t dare to look him in the eyes as you let yourself follow that magnetic pull you’d been trying to keep at bay. Your gaze flickered up to his lips as heated puffs of air seeped from your lungs and you slowly, hypnotically, inched closer. 

But then Bucky opened his mouth and said in a soft and quiet tone, “what are you doing?” making you halt, though not pull back. 

“Please don’t act like you don’t already know… I know you do…”

“You can’t,” he uttered, though didn’t move to walk away either as he captured your gaze, “we can’t, alright?”

“Why not?” you breathed, your eyes returning to his lips, “is it really that important for you to stay professional over everything else? Or is it that I’m just a job to you?” your heart felt as if it was gonna beat straight out of your chest, “you know I like you, I know you do. You notice everything, so of course you know. Am I right?”

A long exhale then flowed from his lungs before the faintest of nods tilted his head, “…yeah.”

“And I have eyes too, I’ve seen the way you look at me,” a shiver trickled down your spine, “so, are you really gonna just stand there and pretend you don’t feel something too? Just go back to your own room and continue to protect me like nothing’s going on?”

“Y/n, I can’t be with you,” he shook his head heavily, “you know I can’t.” 

Can’t or won’t?

Before you could even consider the possible consequences, a desperate request then fell from your lips, “well, what if I’m not asking you to be with me? What if it’s just for tonight? What if I’m only asking you to be with me for one night? Would you give me that?” you blinked up at him, scarcely breathing at all, “would you be mine just till the sun comes up?” 

As if your quiet whispers melted him completely, your bodyguard breathed, “…fuck…” and the next thing you knew, he’d grabbed your face and seized your lips. 

It was like something inside of him had snapped, something you had shattered, with the way that he kissed you as if he’d been drowning and your lips were oxygen. 

As you lost yourself in the sensation of his tongue dancing across your own, you let the red dress drop down your body, passed the sheer stockings that clung around your thighs, to the floor. Like fire, one of his hands disappeared from your cheek and ran down your frame, grazing over the black lingerie that was now exposed.  

Though heated and hungry at first, the kiss soon softened into lighter pecks. 

With his metal hand, he held your face close to his as he withdrew from the kiss, an action you weren’t quite ready for as you dreamily trailed after him a bit, longing for his lips. 

“Are you sure this is what you want?” his hot breath fanned across your features. 

“Yes,” you whispered swiftly. 

But as you dizzily blinked up at him, he simply hummed for you to elaborate, “hm?”

“Yes, I want you,” goosebumps tingled across your skin. 

“You want me to what?” his thumb swiped over your cheekbone. 

“I want you to–, to–…” you fumbled as you felt your desire drip and soak your panties, making them cling to your aching core. 

“To what, huh?” 

“To–… fuck me,” the embarrassingly desperate words tumbled out your mouth. 

“You want me to fuck you?” his unwavering stare briefly dropped to your parted lips.

“Yes,” the syllable rushed out of you. 

“Say it again,” he tilted his chin. 

“I want you to fuck me.”

“Louder,” his feet began to shift, causing yours to shuffle back as well. 

“I want you to fuck me.”

“One more time,” his hand had dropped down to your jaw and his fingers curled slightly to dent your soft cheeks. 

“I want you to fuck me, please!” 

With the hold he had on you, he swiftly dipped down and pressed his lips to yours once more. The world then fell out from under you as his grasp scooped down your frame and plucked you up.

Your arms tangled around his neck right before your back collided with the closet door and your lips tilted away from his as a short squeak slipped out. The distance however lent Bucky to let his kisses dance down the length of your neck and across your cleavage, so perfectly framed by the sheer fabric of your bra. 

Though the hickeys he began to plant across your skin made your eyes roll in your skull, your fingers still captured his tie and tugged him back up for your lips to crash against his. As you moved to push his blazer off, his sturdy grip on you shifted though still held you close as the jacket fell from his burly frame and your palms swiftly scooped over his broad shoulders and down his chest, now one layer closer to letting you actually get to feel the furnace roiling beneath.

Cupping his face close, whimpers seeped out of you and vibrated against his lips as his fingers dug into your ass and rubbed your barely covered cunt over the palpable tent in his pants, your want surely drenching through your thin underwear and marking him as well. 

You almost didn’t realise that Bucky had moved till he dropped you down on the bed. Taking a step back, his tongue briefly flicked across his breathless lips as his fingers lifted to tug his tie off. 

Staring directly into your soul, he uttered, “take your bra off,” as he tossed the tie to the floor and your fingers scrambled to fulfil his request. When you flung the lingerie to the ground, right next to his crumbled tie, the cool night air kissed your pebbly nipples and Bucky let out a murmured curse right before bending down to press his lips to yours. 

Balanced on your elbows, you parted your lips and let his tongue sweep across your own. His touch coasted down your frame, barely granting your tits any attention before his grasp hooked around your thighs and yanked you closer to the edge of the mattress. A surprised yelp escaped you at first at the sudden shift, but as the sting of saliva, that had lingered and connected you from your sloppy kiss, snapped back against your skin, the short cry morphed into a fizzy giggle. 

The light laugh however faded away when you watched him sink to his knees at the foot of the bed. Your legs curled up even further on either side of you, though you weren’t quite sure if that was you or him pushing them up and cracking you open that much more. You could feel his breath hit your pantie-clad core as his gaze fixated on the soaked spot right over your puff. 

When his palm slid up your inner thigh, he only had to reach out his thumb for the broad pad to ghost over your covered slit. His eyes swiftly flickered up to capture yours, checking your reaction as you began to squirm from his feathery light touch. 

Hooking his finger in the gusset, he pulled it to the side and a glossy string stretched out and clung to the fabric as he revealed your glistening pussy. 

A breathy moan billowed out of you as he began to touch you, rolling your little pearl beneath his touch. Finding your eyes once more, he held your gaze as he then leaned down to press a gentle kiss over your clit. 

“This okay?” his voice vibrated against your bundle of nerves, making you twitch. 

“Mhm,” you nodded foggily, “you can do anything you want.”

“Anything?” his lips twitched into a smirk as his fingers stretched from where they were clutching your panties to brush over your button.

“Yeah,” you breathed, “fucking anything.” 

Your mouth then hung agape at the sight of him dipping down to ruthlessly taste your desire. It didn’t take long before he lost himself in you so fiercely that he momentarily leaned back only to rip your underwear off. Both of his hands curved around your bottom, raking across your skin as he drew you even closer to his tongue and dragged it through your wet folds.

Bumping his nose against your clit, he let himself make out with your cunt a moment longer before planting a farewell peck over your pearl and pulling back. A dollop of spit dropped from his lips down onto your pussy. Catching the drop with his fingers before it slid away, he rubbed it into your own juices and made you that much more of a mess. 

“O-oh,” you moaned as he slowly slid a long finger into you after teasing your weepy entrance enough to make you shiver. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he groaned at the soppy sounds his efforts conjured.

Craning down to kiss your clit sloppily, Bucky then slid his ring finger in beside the other, curving them gently as he reached even deeper. 

When he momentarily retracted his digits to land a small tap over your puffy petals, the smile that bloomed on your face only egged him on further. Plugging you back up, he then retracted and repeated the slap though with more ferocity. 

Your head began to lull a bit as he brought his vibranium digits down to roll your clit and his fingers began to fuck you harder, not faster, but with an intent that made your pussy sing for him. 

With your thighs trembling, they nearly slammed shut as you felt the end near, but your bodyguard only slid his strong metal forearm over your legs, hooking it right under both of your bent knees, to keep you spread nice and open for him. 

The veins on the back of his inked hand popped from how fiercely his fingers rocked within you. 

Stretching his thumb up to strum your clit, he tried to sneak a third finger inside of you as he felt your walls begin to flutter around him. 

“That’s it, I’ve got you,” as he always did in every manner, evidently. A smile curved at his lips as your eyes fluttered closed and a symphony of moans flowed out of you with every last tender stroke he offered you to carry you over the edge, “atta girl.”

Melted against the sheets, you caught your breath as he planted one last peck on your inner thigh before standing back up. 

Slowly, with his gaze ever glued on you, he unbuttoned his shirt, gradually revealing the silver shine of the dog tags that hung from his neck and the tattoos that sprawled across his skin. Going all the way up from the hand still shiny with your essence, the ink swirled up his right arm, across his pecs, down his back and even curved over to his left shoulder and intentionally tangled into the gnarly scares sprouting from the border of his prosthetic. 

When the button-up hit the floor, his fingers drifted down to unhurriedly remove his belt, pulling it out of the loops, he let it join the shirt before he undid his pants and let his cock spring free. 

“Jesus christ…” your jaw couldn’t help but drop to the floor as your eyes fluttered at the intimidating reveal. 

Noticing the anxiety that peeked through your lust-ridden expression, his low voice found your ears, “what? Did you change your mind?” 

“No, I just–…” you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his fat cock as it throbbed before you, “I got a bit nervous all of a sudden.” 

“No reason to be nervous, baby,” he breathed out a smile as his fist curled around his girth.  

“Oh really?” you nearly began to laugh. 

“You’ll be fine,” drool threatened to escape the corner of your lips as he slowly began to stroke himself, “trust me.” 

“Really? Because I’m not so sure I’ll be able to take that…” 

“You will,” he uttered calmly as he dipped down to give you a kiss, “don’t worry,” a hand slid into your hair as he cradled your face and ushered your gaze to find his, “you know I’d never hurt you, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So, you’ll be fine,” his thumb curved to sweep over your cheek a few times. 

“Yeah,” you gently nodded and repeated after him, “I’ll be fine.”

“That’s my girl,” he smiled. Kissing you once more, he then pressed a peck to your forehead before his grasp found your hips and he suddenly flipped you around, onto your stomach. 

Helping you up onto your hands and knees, a hazy smile stretched across your features as he bent down over you and pressed kisses all along your spine. Dragging his bulbous tip through your sopping folds, he then teased you for so long, never granting you any more than a dizzying nudge, that whines began to escape from you.

“P-please,” you heard yourself beg as your fingers bunched up the sheets. 

“What?” he continued to flick and tap your swollen clit with the head of his heavy cock.

“I–I want it–, plea–, please fuck me,” you blubbered desperately. 

“Oh, now you want it, huh?” you could hear the smirk that dominated his face, “suddenly not so nervous anymore about me stretching you out, are you?”

“Bucky, plea–, o-oh–,” you felt your limbs tremble beneath you as he slipped the very tip inside. 

His efforts were so slow at first, gradually giving you more of his length and just shallowly fucking you till you blossomed and opened up for him. 

Gradually, his thrusts began to ease from a mind-numbingly slow pace to something that truly scrambled your brain. You soon lost yourself completely to the molten sensation of his fat girth steadily splitting you open. 

Though when he finally bottomed out within you, a shrill gasp slipped out passed your lips and your frame shuttered beneath him. 

Drawing his hips back just enough for you to regain the ability to fill your lungs with oxygen once more, you heard him murmur in your ear, “what, is it too much dick for you?” retraining his thrusts slightly, he kept his tip from kissing your cervix, “that better or is it still too deep for you?” his hands dented your hips.

“N-no, no, it feels so good, it’s just–,” a whimper slipped out of you and broke up your slurring, “you’re so fucking big, I’ve never–,” you felt like you could feel him all the way up in your throat, “no one’s ever been that fucking deep before.”

One of his hands curved down to your clit at the exact same time as your own did. As they met, he let your own fingers swirl over your puffy pearl as his simply lingered, till he suddenly grasped your wrist and gently led it away from your pussy, further up to your lower stomach. 

“That deep?” he pressed down on your palm and let you discover the dull bulge that formed in your belly at every one of his dizzying thrusts, “has no one ever stuffed you that full before? Not even one of your pretty toys you play with so often?”

“Nuh-uh,” you panted as his warm contact dissipated from your spine and he straightened back up. 

A gravelly moan slipped out past Bucky’s lips as he glanced down to see how tightly your creamy pussy was gripping onto his cock. Your fingers returned to the sheets as his wide palm came down to slap your ass, your back arching at the impact and consequently angling his efforts so that the details of his dick brushed against your g-spot in the most heavenly way imaginable. 

He only buried himself inside of you a few more times, his heavy sack tapping against your buzzing clit at every electric buck, till your pussy gushed around his fat girth. 

“There you go,” he pulled out only to insistently flick your puffy pearl with his tip, “fucking hell,” he then plunged his cock all the way back in before dragging it back out, “keep going,” ushering more squirt to drizzle out. He kept up the overwhelming pattern till your pussy stopped gushing for him, till he’d pushed you through the overstimulation and your cunt slowly began to relax again for him. Eventually, when he steadily withdrew from you, he craned his neck to relish in the way your little hole had stretched out and accommodated so well for him, it even winking sinfully at him every time he pulled out, “good fucking girl,” he growled at the sight, “told you so, you’d do just fine,” your shaky frame jolted as he slapped your ass again, “look at you now fucking gaping for me, christ…”

With a ring of your cream staining the base of his cock, he let himself return to your warmth for longer than just a few seconds, fucking you with such ferocity that your pliant form, still molten and unsteady from your second orgasm, collapsed onto the mattress below. 

Though he successfully caught you before you could slip off his cock entirely, he still let you drop down on the bed, though softened the fall for you, before he followed suit. 

The weight of him on top of you felt so comforting and soothed on your tingly skin.

“You okay?” he kissed your cheek before spreading your stocking-clad legs with his own. 

“Hm,” you nodded foggily and felt yourself drool onto the sheets as he squished you further into the mattress.

Your shaky moans filled the bedroom as he slid back inside, “fuck, you feel so good…” sloppily nipping just below your ear before he picked up his pace. 

The chain that dangled from his neck felt cool on your skin and acted as a stark contrast to how hot his body felt pressed against your back. 

“You think you can be a good girl and cum for me again?” he groaned into your ear as his efforts echoed sloppily, “let me feel that pretty pussy squeeze around me one last time?”

“I-I don’t know,” you trembled beneath him, every one of his deep thrusts making you jolt and gasp for air as he was practically splitting you in half. 

“You don’t know?” he sweetly whispered in your ear as he curled his arms under you. One hand slid under your tit and caught your pebbly nipple in a rude pinch while the other soared down to your sore and swollen clit, “can you try for me? Try and cum again,” your eyes had fallen completely shut, so your whole reality had just become Bucky’s reassuring weight, his tantalising efforts, and his sinful whispers that seeped directly into your soul, “try and squirt for me one last time, sweetheart.” 

And so, you did. It didn’t even take that long before you tumbled over one last time and your pussy creamed for him, drenching the already damp sheets beneath you, as he swiftly came as well, throbbing deep within your clenching cunt and filling your little hole up to the brim till it tried to leak and escape around his girth.

His heavy pants faded from your ear as he slowly crawled off of you, cascading a tender trail of kisses all the way down your body till he gently retraced his track of pecks and settled down next to you. Fluttering your eyes open as his palm slid up to your heated cheek, he gazed into your hazy eyes for a moment before leaning in to softly press his lips to your own. 

You wanted to curl in closer to his frame, but your body was so exhausted that you could barely raise your pinkie finger. Fortunately though, as you layed there in wordless wonder, Bucky’s arms draped around you as he scooted in close, hugging you to him and gently caressing your skin as you continued to blink back into his ocean eyes, not uttering a word out of fear that you’d ruin the blissful moment.

After perhaps a small eternity had passed, he briefly raised his head up slightly to catch sight of the small clock on your bedside table. 

“There’s still a few more hours left before the sunrise…” he settled back down beside you.

“Oh, yeah?” a soft smile tilted up your lips as his touch began to travel south. 

“Yeah,” his lips gently parted in a silent moan as his fingers slid through your sore folds. His stare was transfixed on how your brows knitted together and a quiet hiss slipped out of you as he swirled over your sensitivity, playing with the hot load he’d pumped into you as it slowly leaked out, one of his digits too brash not to try and stuff it back inside, “what do you think?” sharing your breath, he inched in and let his nose nuzzle against your own, “do you want me to be yours just a little bit longer or would you rather I’d return to my own bed?” 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[seiwas]

you're the reason (i got a weakness) | miya atsumu

wc: 2.9k

summary: it’s not that atsumu doesn't like you dressing up like this���in fact, he loves it. just not when you're fighting. not when he can't even call you "baby".

contains: post-timeskip atsumu, arguments and atsumu feeling really sorry, flashbacks, uses the nickname “baby” & “my love”, reader is described as “pretty” and wears heels, hurt/comfort.

a/n: atsumu isn’t a sucky boyfriend he just gets carried away sometimes. song inspo: can you blame me? - kehlani, lucky daye.

part of the in's and out's new year/birthday event | request prompt: making yourself look good to feel good (your partner has something to say to you)

sponsored by @itskilau and @tasoyoru for the @ficsforgaza initiative. please check it out and support if you can!

“Bab—”

Atsumu lingers by your bathroom door, eyes drooping lower and sadder than they ever have. The steam makes the bleached strands of his hair cling to his forehead, his thick eyebrows now damp and flattened. 

You sigh, the big, heavy, and deep kind, shoulders dropping as you clasp the lock of your necklace.

He stares. 

That’s his job. You always ask him to do it the moment you step out of the shower. 

His lip trembles, eyes watery.

“Not now, Atsumu.”

You walk past him as you adjust the towel around your chest, your arm brushing against his. It’s a small thing, a sensation ingrained so deeply into the past two years you’ve been together, but he feels it like it’s the first time you ever touched him—and in a way, it is. Since yesterday, at least. 

The silence that trails after you is so deafeningly still, he thinks he can hear his heart breaking. 

“Atsumu,” your voice rings. 

Who the hell is “Atsumu”? 

He’s not supposed to be “Atsumu” to you. He’s “Tsum.” He’s “baby.” He’s “my love.”

Anything but “Atsumu.”

When you close the door of your walk-in closet to change, the metaphorical volleyball of hope floating right into the palm of his hand misses and drops straight to the floor. 

It started with volleyball, as all things with Atsumu do. 

You’d met him at the rise of his career, just a few years of him being pro. You were friends first, but if you ask anyone around Atsumu, they’d tell you you were never just a friend to him; he’d invited you to all his games and practice matches, spent a bit more time in the locker rooms before going out for dinner with you and the rest of the team. 

Osamu has the receipts of all the extra orders of onigiri Atsumu started adding to his regular weekly subscription since meeting you. 

Your first ‘date’ was Atsumu treading the very fine line between teaching you how to play volleyball and teaching himself self-control. Keeping an eye on the ball is hard enough, what more when he has to resist staring at you in very cute volleyball shorts too? 

As MSBY’s success skyrocketed, so did Atsumu’s—brand deals left and right, solo work trips during off seasons, commercials; the whole thing. When Atsumu wasn’t training, he was either traveling  or attending events and photoshoots. Always on-the-go. Moving. 

And he knew you understood, knew you knew him and his tendencies to overwork; knew him, and his habit of getting stuck inside his own world. You’d driven to late practices with bento boxes to share, and you’d packed his gym bag more than a few times, brought in extra clothes without him having to say a word.

You’ve managed his lifestyle better than anyone could.

But, Atsumu has a bad habit of promising more than he should, of serving white lies just as easily as he does volleyballs behind the service line. 

“Won’t take long, baby. Swear it,” he holds on to the wall by your door, slipping his feet inside his dress shoes. “Pick ya up at 6:00?” 

He’d winked at you then, kissed you between your eyebrows and nose before sneaking one more right at that spot underneath your ear.

What he’d give to be able to do that right now. 

“Okay,” you giggle, swatting his chest as you nod, “better hurry then, you might be late.” 

When Atsumu remembers that moment, the way you’d agreed so doubtlessly, he hates himself even more. You trusted him, have trusted him so wholeheartedly this entire time, so maybe you’re right—

“Would it hurt for you to just be honest?” 

—Atsumu has no excuse standing you up on the date he promised you weeks ago all because he lost track of time in some brand event, listening to a potential collaboration on volleyball shoes. Atsumu has no excuse agreeing to “some drinks” right after just to meet the executives of the company. 

There are meetings for those things, ones that can be scheduled and agreed upon. Ones that don’t compromise or add on to the already long list of missed dates with you. 

“I know you’re busy and I understand,” you sigh, turning the knob of the kitchen stove as you heat up the kettle, “you know I do.” 

He stands before you a quarter past 11:00 p.m., cologne long faded and the smell of alcohol spilled on his sleeve. The kitchen island stands like a net on the court, the ball being sent over to his side. 

“Baby, I—”

He passes it back.

You turn from the stove, face fresh and hair tied into a messy low bun as you look at him—how could he have ever stood this���you–up?

You take the ball, “Can I finish what I have to say first?” 

He nods. The kettle begins whizzing.

“I’m happy and so, so proud that you have all these opportunities,” you reach for the cupboard above head to grab a mug. The box of tea bags sits to your right, a mix of Lemon Balm and Chamomile that Atsumu swears keeps his anxieties at bay during the night. “But at least tell me if you can’t make it.” 

You tear open a tea packet, dangling it inside the mug. The kettle whistles, and he feels the onset of a spike. 

“Please don’t keep my hopes up every time.” 

You turn back towards the stove, turning the burner off as you pour in the steaming water inside the mug. 

“Baby, I swear, they just–they started talkin’ ‘bout these shoes, ‘n I thought t’was cool, ‘n the execs–they said the execs’d be there in the afterparty, and—” he breathes, “won’t happen next time, baby. ‘M so—” 

“Can I really believe you next time?”

You approach the kitchen island slowly, holding the piping hot mug carefully as you set it down in front of him. 

Atsumu stood you up on your date, and you still made him tea. 

You hold his stare for a brief moment before you walk away, sadness and disappointment all-in-one.

It is now that Atsumu knows, he’s fucked up.

The ball lands on his side of the court. 

And so, he’s spent this entire day trying to make it up to you—breakfast in the morning, right before training (which he absolutely tanked because all he could think about was how sad you looked the night before); flowers that he brought home after lunch time, just to find the apartment empty. It’s only after a full text thread and three missed calls to your phone that he finally gets a response.

“Nail appointment. Going out tonight,” is your reply (using speech-to-text too, he suspects, with how formal it sounds). 

Which is fine and dandy to him; you should do everything that makes you feel better after he practically took you for granted. It’s just—he hasn’t even said sorry yet, can’t even call you “baby”, can’t even touch you even though he really, really, really wants to. 

And now, with you closing the door on him while you’re changing—there’s nothing else he can do, really, but to walk away and give you some space. 

He shifts his feet, dragging them lightly against the wooden floors of your bedroom.

The moment he hears the door of your walk-in closet slide open, he hurriedly sits down on the edge of your bed, acting as if he wasn’t just anxiously pacing, waiting for you to come out. 

He feels like shit, if he’s being honest—like how he does when he misses a serve; if not, worse. 

You look good. Make-up done to only emphasize the features he loves (which is your entire face, really), and your outfit perfectly accentuating the dips and curves of your body. 

He follows you as you exit the room, tailing after you like a lost puppy. When you stop by your entryway, all he can do is watch as you bend down to put on the straps of your heels. And it sucks, because if you weren’t fighting, Atsumu would be right by your feet, crouched low so that you wouldn’t have to. 

It’s pathetic and a little helpless of him to just stand and stare in the middle of your living room. He should say something at least, but, you just look so good, and his throat feels dry; his heart all achy and stomach twisty. 

He doesn’t want to be away from you. 

And it’s not that he doesn’t like you going out looking like this—he loves it. But as soon as you step out the door with a soft “don’t wait up for me” mumbled from your glossed lips, Atsumu can only taste bitter regret at the fact that he wishes he were coming with you. 

He couldn’t even give you a goodbye kiss. 

The blond groans, pulling at his hair as he rests his elbows down on the kitchen counter. 

“Don’t wait up for me,” you said. As if he can even sleep without you around. 

.

.

.

The hours go by but they feel like days. Atsumu’s done every possible thing he can do in this apartment and it still hasn’t breached 11:00 p.m.. He’s cleaned down the kitchen (twice!) and arranged the food inside the fridge like those ‘stock up my fridge with me’ tiktoks he’s seen on Sakusa’s phone. The clothes on his side of the closet have been arranged by color and length, with all the ones in his dresser refolded, Marie Kondo style. He’s also pretty sure he’s scrubbed the bathroom down enough that you can probably see your reflection on the tiles of the damn thing. The laundry baskets for both your clothes are now empty, and he’s changed the bedsheets too and—

He’s still restless. The numbers on the clock taunt him, moving up agonizingly slowly. He can’t stop looking at the time, itching for you to come home. 

Atsumu is sorry, so so so incredibly so, because you’re right―he hasn’t been fair to you at all, and he needs you to know that he knows it, too. 

His eyes go over the clock again, only a minute having passed since the last time he checked it. 

Is this how you felt? Every time you waited for him to come home for a date he promised you? 

He squeezes his eyes; it hurts him just thinking about it. 

That’s it, he decides, grabbing his phone and wallet as he walks out the door. 

. 

.

.

Atsumu doesn’t check your location often (maybe only a few times). It’s not a trust thing, he swears; it’s just for when he wants to make sure you’re somewhere safe, or in a place he can reach you should you need him there. 

And, you clearly don’t need him right now, but, Atsumu is a little selfish, he admits. 

Sitting at home with all his regret feels worse than seeking you out to beg for your forgiveness, whether you want him to or not. 

He’s barely dressed for the venue as he steps inside the bar, a pair of sweatpants and a white t-shirt with those fashionable Birkenstock clogs on. A few people seem to recognize him, tilting their heads and murmuring among themselves as he walks through door, but none of them approach him, thankfully, except for a server asking if he needs assistance. 

His eyes scan the tables first, searching for any semblance of the outfit he’d seen you leave in earlier. The dim lights make it increasingly difficult for him to look for your properly as he squints his eyes some more, narrowing his vision to the people at the front bar this time. It’s after the fourth person he dismisses that he feels himself getting desperate, nearly turning towards the server beside him to ask for help.

Until he spots you—tucked in the corner of the front bar, sitting on the barstool with your legs crossed as you swirl around your drink. 

You look bored, and a little sad, chin resting in your hand as you lean your elbow on the table. 

He frowns, thanking the server on the side as he makes his way to you slowly. You barely notice him as you bring out your phone, tapping on the screen as you stare at it almost longingly―a photo of you and him some time ago after one of his games. He knows it well, can still remember that day so clearly: when he became a PR nightmare because he couldn’t help but announce your relationship by kissing you in front of everybody. 

It makes his chest hurt. 

Then, you swipe it open, and he’s close enough now to be able to catch a glimpse of what’s on your screen: your text thread with him, his last message being, “Did you make it safely?” 

(You pout, eyes pricking with tears. You didn’t reply to him then because you weren’t ready to fully talk to him yet, still upset and disappointed. 

It was easy to make yourself feel better by dressing up and stepping out of the apartment earlier, the promise of good drinks and good company awaiting your arrival; you couldn’t think about how you felt if you were busying yourself with others. But now that all of those feelings have died down and most of your friends have started chatting up other people they’ve found, it’s beginning to hit you all at once just how much you still prefer Atsumu’s company more than anything else.

Your fingers hover over your text box, typing and deleting. Typing and deleting.) 

He’s two stools away from you now, and he can barely contain it―

“Baby,” his voice trembles, unsteady. 

Recognition fills you as you turn to the sound, half-confused at whether you’re hearing things; whether―

(“Tsum,” you mutter, eyes catching a pair of familiar warm brown staring back at you. His bottom lip quivers, the embodiment of a dam starting to crack, vibrating.

Your emotions are a mess, your breath on hold as you feel tears welling up in your lashline too. You still feel upset, still a little sad, and a tiny bit disappointed, but what coats them all is a sense of relief because—)

―he’s here, standing in front of you like he just rolled out of the house with barely enough time to get dressed (which, you’re sure is exactly how things went), and you’re sliding off the bar stool in the prettiest outfit, looking like the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. 

“‘M so sorry,” he breathes out, stepping closer as he grabs your hand, “Don’t ever wanna make y’feel like that again.” His knee gives way as he starts sinking to the floor, “I won’t do that anymore―” 

“Tsum,” you try to call his attention.

He’ll beg for your forgiveness whether you like it or not. 

(The interaction is causing nearby tables to look, murmurs and whispers in your periphery as you catch vague sentences here and there. He still is a public figure, after all.) 

But Atsumu is unaware, looking at you and you alone as he pleads, “No, please hear me out first. I promise I’ll tell ‘em they can speak ‘ta―” 

“Tsum,” you squeeze his hand, whispering more firmly as you try to pull him up. 

“Baby, please. Gimme the chance ‘ta show ya that I―”

(You look around and notice even more eyes on the two of you, fond looks on their faces as they prepare their phones for what seems like something momentous. Then it hits you, how this looks―)

“Tsum, please stand up,” you tug at his hand strongly, urging him to stand. His eyebrows furrow as he obliges, only comprehending why when you explain it to him softly, “people were starting to think you were about to propose.” 

He pauses for a moment, a slight, “Oh,” as he ponders on it. “Well, if that’s what’ll prove it t’ya, then—” 

You roll your eyes, the corners of your lips curling slightly as you hit his shin with your foot and squeeze his hand again, “Don’t joke about things like that.” 

Well, it’s not the first time it’s crossed his mind, if he’s being honest. 

He sighs, sitting on the stool beside you as he rubs his thumb over your hand again, bringing it close to his lips to kiss softly. 

“‘M really sorry, baby,” he mumbles against your skin before moving your hand over his heart. “Don’t ever want ya feelin’ like this again.” 

“I know,” you give him a small smile, patting down some of the strands of his hair that stick out, “you didn’t have to come out here though, you know. I was about to go home soon, anyway.” 

“Can ya blame me? Seein’ ya off like that?” he grips your hand tighter as his voice softens. “Y’re too pretty to be sad,” he plays with your fingers, intertwining them with his.

You hit his shin again, feeling shy. You always do when Atsumu likes to sweet-talk you. 

“Do ya forgive me?” he asks after some time, as you take the last few sips of your drink. 

You hum, looking him in the eyes as you nod, pouting, “I don’t like being mad at you, you know.” He lights up, beaming, but you add on, “We still have to talk about it properly, though. Later, when we get back.” 

He nods in agreement, holding your hand as you slide off the barstool, guiding you out of the bar and into the car. 

. 

.

.

(You both do talk about it properly, and the next time Atsumu promises you a date, he blocks it out of all of his calendars, sending the date to his manager even, just to be extra sure.) 

a/n: this has been such a long time coming, i'm sorry to those who waited! i hope you enjoyed even though this simmered with me for way too long 😭 i love writing atsumu a little lovesick but i also think he deserves someone who is equally as in deep as he is 🥺

thank you notes: to 🍧 anon for helping me figure out "what would make you mad at atsumu?" and to @ceroseis and @mieiri for always listening to my shenanigans pre-writing!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[dollyichi]

YOUR BIGGEST FAN!

pro-hero katsuki bakugou x actress f ! reader ᯓ★ he finds out who the main admin is of his biggest fan page. 1.4k words. fluff / established relationship / not proofread / little smau at the end

spin-off from ‘a little mystery never hurt anybody’ [m—dni]

katsuki never cared about his image at all. nor did he care about what people post about him online. aside from his own beliefs, he only cares about what you think, and if you think he’s ‘fucking cool’ then he’s fucking cool.

he only ever checks social media and posts something that you’re a part of. if he had the chance to have all his platforms with a picture of you both or even just you, he’d do it—but you would scold him and tell him that he should just have a photo of himself. which you had to do instead since he’s stubborn and wouldn’t know what photo would look the best.

well fortunately for you, who has an album of pictures of him whether you took it yourself to gate-keep, from his fan sites, or his modeling / commercial projects just picked one portrait that would match his overall style. not too much, not too zoomed out, but still would exude that cool side that you loved so much.

and the moment you changed his profile you’re already switching to your verified fan account to notify your followers of his new profile photo. multiple notifications spawn at your lockscreen, the tweet already blew up too.

your co-admins don’t even know that it was the ‘dazzling actress y/n’ running the account in the first place, and it was for the better. you always had this account the moment katsuki was in his third year in UA. usually posting threads about how amazing of a hero he is, or his rankings in the recent fan polls such as ‘hottest hero’ or ‘most powerful rookie hero quirks!’ and your favorite, ‘heroes i wanna get in bed with.’ just from that, anyone other than you knowing your identity would be real bad.

pro-hero dynamight always had a loyal fanbase anyway. and you were always the first account they’d come to for any news on him.

when you started dating you had to ask for some help which is why you had some of your followers (who have been supporting your blog for so long too!) to assist you when you couldn’t post as frequently as you used to. it was easy to juggle the fan account while you were starting as an actress, but when you started dating katsuki, manning the page is a big challenge. he’ll definitely find out in no time since personal space was thrown out the window when you became his.

you wanted to keep it a secret since you were still such a big fan and it felt like a waste deleting the account since you worked so hard on it—pouring so much passion on it despite being with the main source. there were even times when you begged your staff to get him to sign your merch, which you happily post on the fan page too, wearing thick gloves because you figured katsuki would recognize you immediately.

sometimes you would slip and mess up. your co-admin posting about katsuki taking a photo of your new digital billboard by the station. and you accidentally quoted the tweet on your fan page that reads ‘he really likes me~’ and you immediately take it down before the viewer count goes up.

it was a very close call, and when someone did ask you about it since some of them had notifications on for your account you just made up an excuse like ‘i mean y/n! sorry it was a typo.’

sometimes you’d get katsuki to look at the fan page when you both have free time. and he only ever likes the tweets when it involved you. like when you’re both spotted on a date, or a quote from an interview of him promoting your own projects.

you begged him to follow and he didn’t really think that much of it. shrugging and pressing the button and going back to indulging himself beside you.

you never really post any updates on the pro-hero that’s related to you though. and when you do find out about it, you had your co-admins to thank. especially for that one video clip of him struggling to take a picture of another billboard you had in the middle of the city.

until one day, the two of you were apart for a bit. he was out on a mission, and it’s sad that he couldn’t spend the first few days of your break with you.

nonetheless, you are currently working with his fan sites near the area for some updates on him at the time. you end up missing him too much when they send you the photos in your direct messages. though, “he looks really good,” you think to yourself. up in the air with that pretty grin of his whenever he wins.

on your fan page you always have that certain ‘watermark’ when you make a post. ending the tweet with ‘admin ⭐️💥’ to indicate that it was you posting.

quickly, you make a new post about his new feat, scheduling to have it posted on the next day.

you didn’t think much of it, just happy that your boyfriend was safe and he could come home earlier to you.

when you wake up, katsuki’s already back home seated on his side of the bed. but what was unusual was for him to be on his phone this early. concerned, you reach out to him, hoping there wasn’t an emergency or anything bad that happened.

then he starts laughing that goofy laugh of his that you love. which gets you to giggle yourself, “what’s so funny?” you give him a kiss on his cheek as a morning greeting. it’s nice waking up to him so happy, until you feel your own face drop in horror on the screen.

it was your tweet, with that exact format that you always used—not on your fan page, but at your own main account with already thousands of engagement. you feel yourself sink in your spot on the bed.

you did it now, you knew you shouldn’t be posting when you’re sleepy. now you fucked up, big time. you don’t even want to know the replies on that post, and you couldn’t even face your boyfriend who’s already crying from laughing so hard.

“you’re such a dumbass no wonder you kept pestering me about this fan account.”

you groan, hiding yourself under the covers. you couldn’t even imagine what’s going to become of you and how your manager’s going to react. it’s not like you could just abandon your following either! “it’s different as a fan!”

you take your phone from the bedside table and delete the tweet immediately. it’s been 30 minutes after you scheduled it, but there’s nothing you could even do to remedy the mistake. not when thousands have already seen your tweet. you don’t even know how to tell your co-admins who probably found out your real identity.

“just kill me!” you say, wrapping the comforter around you which leaves nothing for him anymore. he puts his phone down and wraps an arm on you. “don’t be so fuckin’ embarrassed babe. if it helps i’m your number one fan too.”

you won’t budge, staying still in your self made blanket burrito with a pout. facing away from him and with a huff. you were so embarrassed that your whole body freezes, and your mind goes blank. “hey come on, i’m happy about it!” you hear him say.

you could already feel the scoldings of your manager, you just hope this is mainly good publicity if it resurfaces—because you’re damn sure a lot of your shared fans are going to spread it all over the net.

“don’t fuckin’ ignore me babe! i’m really damn flattered here!” and he’s laughing again. he really couldn’t take it seriously, and you really wish this was just a really bad dream. it’s not like you wanted to keep it a secret forever! but you didn’t think he’d find out this way, bummer.

he pulls you on top of him, kissing all over your pouting face that’s sticking out from the thick comforter. “ah fuck this is so good! i bet when we get married you’re just on your phone posting live updates or some shit.”

you’re never going to hear the end of this. especially not when he digged a little deeper and found your ‘thirst’ postings from years ago. oh well, at least he knows you’ve always loved him. it was honestly such an ego boost learning his girlfriend just ‘as obsessed’ as he is towards you. besides, his page was almost a fan page of you in itself. whatever, you’re gonna laugh it off next week anyway.

at least you’ve given him another new thing that has him head over heels for you again.

bonus!

do not copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost my works

note : aaaaa this was so funny to me idk T^T it’s really stupid

[lovebugism]

Kissing eddie just as you’re both about to get out of the car and now he’s got a problem cause he’s hard, and all your friends are waiting for you and you’re both a little late and Eddie we really gotta hurry up! what’s the issue? and the poor boy is bright red to his neck over how gone he is on you

ty for requesting :D ps: i'm gnawing at the bars of my enclosure over this prompt –– when eddie's about to leave for a show, you make sure he knows exactly what he's missing out on (established relationship, st4 canon divergence, allusions to smut 18+ | 1k)

“How do I look?” Eddie wonders aloud as you trail down the creaking porch steps behind him. He plants his feet on the gravel driveway and spins on the heel of his sneaker to face you –– already bare-faced and clad in your pretty PJs for the night, a striking contrast to the lead guitarist of Corroded Coffin standing before you.

You pause on the second-to-last step and reach for his face. Eddie leans instinctively into your warm touch as you swipe your thumbs under his eyes, gently smudging his dark liner a bit more. 

“Like a rockstar,” you answer with a proud smile.

Eddie scrunches his nose sheepishly in response, ‘cause he has nowhere to hide with you cradling his blushing face like this. He’s still not immune to the way you look at him, even after all this time. “You’re just sayin’ that,” he mumbles, kicking a lone rock with the toe of his show.

You hum in agreement as your hands fall from his face. “Yeah. ‘Cause it’s true.”

“To you, maybe,” Eddie scoffs, trying hard to ignore the pang of anxiety in his chest. “No one else seems to think so.”

He never used to be nervous performing before Vecna tried to kill him. It was the world that was scared of Eddie Munson, not the other way around –– until it nearly ended, anyway. Now, just leaving the house is enough to induce a panic attack. A part of him is always distantly fearful that a stranger’s face will turn out to be the dark wizard’s, back to life and hiding in plain sight again.

“Hey,” you scold, only partially playful. “I think the crowd of five drunks who watch you perform every Tuesday would agree with me.”

Despite the ice-cold apprehension making his limbs feel numb, Eddie manages a breathy chuckle. “You’re right. We could bomb, and they’d still act like we were playing Madison Square Garden or something.”

You soften then, as though sensing his worry. “You’re not gonna bomb, Eds. You guys are gonna do great. Just like always.”

“Sure you can’t come?” Eddie wonders quietly, blinking up at you with a pair of chocolate button eyes that are hard to say no to.

“You know I can’t… I have an early morning tomorrow,” you coo sympathetically, fighting back a smile when the boy’s rosy bottom lip juts in a pout. “But I’ll be right here when you get back, okay? And I’ll make sure to heat up dinner when you’re on your way. So you have something to soak up the alcohol and adrenaline with.”

You tilt your cheek to your shoulder, squinting suspiciously when Eddie’s frown curls into a cheeky grin. He reaches for you with a pair of ringed hangs and squeezes at your clothed hips. “Just like a good little housewife, huh?” he croons mischievously.

You roll your eyes at him ‘cause you’re not a housewife by any means. 

You live in a trailer with his uncle, for one. And you work five days a week, for another. Besides, you’re not even his wife, which you think is usually the first step. (You have no idea Eddie’s already picked a ring out for you. Or that he plans on keeping that a secret until he plays enough shows to afford a house). 

You decide to humor him, anyway. 

“Sure,” you monotone with a slow nod.

Eddie’s grin widens.

“C’mon on, Munson! We’re gonna be late!” Jeff lisps from the passenger side window of the van. The rusted tin can is parked a ways down the drive, packed to the brim with all their band equipment like a perfect game of Tetris.

You lean forward to press a chaste kiss to his mouth.

“Wear that dress I like when I get back?” Eddie murmurs lowly.

You hum with your lips pursed to the side of your mouth, pretending to be deep in thought. “Hmm… I was kinda thinkin’ about wearing nothing, actually,” you answer, shrugging innocently. “You know, for easy access and whatnot.”

Eddie warms all over. His wild head starts to swim at the visual –– one he’s seen a hundred times before that he’s not quiet sure he’ll ever get over. “Have mercy…” the boy mumbles under his breath.

“Just try not to think about it too much while you’re gone…” you lilt knowingly, smoothing both your hands up and over the lapels of his leather jacket. “All alone… Naked in our bed… Trying to get myself off while I wait for you…”

Eddie stares at you with heavy, lidded eyes. He can’t take the chocolates of them off your lips as they curl into a mischievous, tightlipped smile. “How ‘bout I just stay home?” he offers lowly.

A resounding honk blares from the van in a wordless answer. 

Gareth leans out the driver’s side window, face screwed and sandy curls wild. “C’mon, Eddie!” the boy yells like an impatient younger brother. “Put your dick in your pants already so we can go!” 

Eddie’s head swivels back to face you again, chest deflating with a grieving sigh. 

“You have to go,” you tell him, soft and sympathetic, as you press another kiss to his pout. “Have fun, honey,” you croon and step back from him –– knowing exactly what you’re doing as you trek back up the wobbly wooden porch steps.

Before you shut the front door behind you, you flash the boy a curt wave and a pretty smile. It takes a world of strength to keep from following behind you. 

In a perfect world, Eddie would already have the door bolted shut with you pressed against it by now. He’d have your oversized shirt balled up at your ribs and your shorts pulled down to your ankles and his mouth licking over your pretty cotton panties.

He shakes his head in a physical attempt to remove the sinful thoughts from his brain as he stalks back to the van. He keeps his head bowed as he goes, trying to hide his reddened cheeks behind his wild curls. Gareth watches from the window as Eddie tugs at the crotch of his jeans, trying to un-strangle his hard cock like a teenager.

The boy leans between the front seats as Eddie climbs into the driver’s side, slamming the screeching door shut behind him. “You’re pathetic,” Gareth teases through a fit of boyish laughter.

“Shut up,” Eddie grumbles.

[latenightreadingpdf]

Spencer's Secret - Spencer Reid

₊‧⁺˖⋆ Masterlist ⋆˖⁺‧₊

Summary: All Spencer wanted was to finish his paperwork and go home, but now he’s in a bar, drunk, and confessing all his secrets to Derek.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The team had barely settled back into the office after a grueling case when Derek threw an arm over Emily’s shoulder, talking about needing a drink. Emily agreed with a weary smile, and soon enough, JJ, Penelope, and Rossi had chimed in, all eager to unwind together. Somehow, they’d even managed to convince Hotch, who gave them a reluctant nod, his rare smile hinting he could use a break too.

All that was left was Spencer. Sitting at his desk, he was hunched over, diligently finishing up his paperwork, when Derek strolled over and leaned in with his usual, "Hey, pretty boy."

Spencer looked up, already anticipating the question. "No, Derek, I’m not going."

Derek raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "I didn’t even get to ask!"

"Doesn’t matter. I’m not going," Spencer replied firmly, looking back down at his files.

"Come on, kid," Derek urged, his voice dropping to a softer, pleading tone. "Just this once. If you come, I’ll never ask again. I swear."

Spencer let out a sigh, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up with him. There was a beat of silence as he mulled it over, glancing at the hopeful faces of his teammates nearby. Finally, he closed his file, resigned. "Fine," he muttered, “but just this once."

Derek’s face broke into a grin, practically bouncing on his feet. "You heard him, guys—he’s in! Let’s go before he changes his mind."

Spencer reluctantly stood up, pulling on his coat with a sigh. He glanced around, noticing the others already gathering their things, excitement buzzing among them. As they all filed out together, Penelope slung an arm around Spencer, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

"Oh, Spence, you’ll have fun. Trust me," she said, winking.

Spencer managed a small, hesitant smile, wondering just what he was getting himself into. It wasn’t exactly his ideal night out, but surrounded by his friends, he couldn’t help but feel a faint sense of anticipation growing despite himself.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

As soon as the team settled into the bar, the weight of the last case started to fade. They ordered the first round, eager to drink, laugh, and let loose for a few hours. The drinks flowed freely, and soon they were deep in conversation, sharing old stories and laughing harder with each passing round. Spencer, who rarely drank, was feeling more than a little tipsy. Nights like these weren’t really his scene—he usually found it far more comfortable to stay home. But now, with the warm buzz in his head and his friends around, he was actually enjoying himself.

Meanwhile, Derek had been off flirting at the bar, but eventually made his way back to the booth, where Spencer was the last one still sitting. Derek, who could hold his liquor well, was only slightly buzzed. He noticed Spencer's dazed expression and grinned, sliding into the seat next to him. "Pretty boy," he said, nudging him, "there are so many gorgeous women here tonight. You should go try and have some fun, maybe even get a date."

Spencer, a little too drunk to filter his thoughts, shook his head. "Don’t need a date," he said, his words slurring slightly.

Derek raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Oh yeah? And why’s that?"

Spencer’s face softened, and he blurted, “I’ve got an amazing girlfriend at home.”

"Right, sure," Derek teased, not at all convinced. "So what’s her name?"

Spencer’s face lit up. "Y/N," he said, his voice full of adoration. He leaned in, eyes dreamy, and started rambling. “She’s incredible, Derek. So smart, so beautiful. She’s way out of my league—I still can’t believe she’s with me.”

Derek chuckled, noticing just how drunk Spencer was. It was getting late, and he knew Spencer would never make it home on his own. “Why don’t you call Y/N to pick you up, then?” he said, jokingly.

Spencer’s face brightened, and he fumbled for his phone. Derek watched in amusement as he dialed, still skeptical, until he heard a faint “Hello?” from the other end.

Spencer’s face lit up even more. “Hello, my love,” he said, voice thick with affection.

You let out a soft laugh on the other side of the line. “Hey, Spence! Everything alright?”

Spencer grinned, completely forgetting why he’d called. “Yeah,” he said dreamily. “I just…wanted to hear your pretty voice.”

You laughed, clearly touched. Derek, now genuinely surprised that someone had actually answered, took the phone from Spencer, holding it up to his ear. "Hello?" he asked, still a bit skeptical.

"Uh, hi,” you replied, a little confused. “Who is this?"

Derek cleared his throat. “This is Derek. Spencer friend.”

“Oh! Nice to finally meet you, Derek, Spencer talks about you and the team quite a bit.” you said, sounding amused. “I’m Y/N, his girlfriend.”

Derek muttered, “Holy shit, you’re real.”

"Sorry?" you asked, sounding puzzled.

“Nothing, nothing,” he chuckled. “Listen, Spencer’s had a bit too much to drink. Are you able to pick him up?”

You let out a soft, understanding laugh. “Yeah, of course. Just tell me where you guys are.”

Derek gave you the address and hung up, handing the phone back to Spencer. "Your girlfriend’s coming to get you," he said, still slightly in awe that Spencer’s been hiding a girlfriend from them.

Spencer’s eyes lit up even more. “Y/N?” he asked eagerly.

“Yeah, pretty boy, Y/N,” Derek replied, shaking his head with a grin.

Spencer slumped back in his seat with a satisfied sigh. “Finally,” he mumbled. “Someone cool to hang out with.”

Derek just laughed, patting Spencer on the shoulder. He sat down with Spencer and waited with him for Y/N to get there, eager to meet her.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

As Spencer was still happily rambling to Derek about his incredible girlfriend, the door opened, and a beautiful woman stepped into the bar. Spencer’s eyes widened instantly. "Y/N!" he exclaimed, jumping up so quickly he nearly tripped. He stumbled over to you, practically throwing himself into your arms, clinging to you like he’d just found his lifeline. He buried his face in your neck, a contented sigh escaping him.

You wrapped your arms around him, laughing softly at his drunken enthusiasm. "Looks like someone had a good time," you teased, rubbing his back.

“Missed you so much,” he mumbled into your neck, his words muffled but unmistakably fond.

Looking up, you noticed a man standing a few steps behind Spencer, observing the two of you with an amused grin. "You must be Derek," you said, offering him a warm smile.

Derek smiled back, giving a nod. "Nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you tonight."

Before you could respond, Spencer had already started tugging you gently toward the exit. You glanced back at Derek and gave him a quick smile. "Hopefully we can actually talk sometime soon," you said, laughing as Spencer clung to your arm.

Derek chuckled, nodding. "I’d like that. Take care of him. Goodnight, Y/N."

He watched as you guided a tipsy, lovesick Spencer out of the bar, a soft smile still on his face. Just then, Penelope popped up beside him, curiosity sparkling in her eyes. “What are you staring at?” she asked, following his gaze to the exit.

“Spencer’s got a girlfriend,” Derek said, unable to keep a little laugh from escaping as he recalled the whole scene.

Penelope’s eyes went wide, and she gasped, practically bouncing in place. "Wait, what?! Our Spencer? Oh my God, I need details!"

Derek smirked, shaking his head. "Calm down, babygirl. You can interrogate him tomorrow," he teased.

Penelope pouted, but the excitement was already building. After a second, she sighed dramatically, then brightened up again and grabbed Derek’s hand. “Fine! But right now, you’re dancing with me.”

Derek let her pull him to the dance floor, chuckling as he made a mental note to tease Spencer about this night for a long time.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆