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gay-for-the-snz · 1 year ago

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Interview (M, allergy)

After one billion years (actually a bit over a year, it seems!) I am finally finished with a lil something that also introduces a recurring character who's already in another couple WIPs that were being picked at concurrently! Meet Joseph's TA, Monty!

⁂

The door to the office is shut firmly, the sign-up sheet for office hours conspicuously turned backward to face the wall. No visitors, is the clear message it sends, but he glances at his phone again to double check the time. 2:27.

His email said their appointment is at 2:30, but already he's been sitting here staring stupidly at the door for over fifteen minutes. Just go knock! But it doesn't feel that simple. Dr. Valentine is a man who is precise in everything he does. Showing up before the appointed time feels just as dangerous as showing up late--he was given a time, he needs to abide by it. 2:28.

Monty fiddles with his resume, contained safely within a plastic sleeve and safe from the crinkling every other paper in his possession has fallen victim to--a nervous habit, really, one he ought to try and overcome--but for now it's just him and this resume waiting in an otherwise empty hallway across from the office of one of the most universally disliked professors the college has to offer. And it's not that he thinks he's a bad professor, or, he thinks, even a bad person, really--why would he apply for a job with someone who was just plain unkind?--but he's...blunt. Direct. Someone his ma would say had 'the same social grace God gave a leech'. 2:29.

He finally works up the nerve to approach the door, and the millisecond before his fist collides with it, it swings open in front of him to reveal the grim man, backlit by the afternoon sun in a manner that reminds him of the chiaroscuro of horror movies. Monty recoils, awkwardly holds his hand with his other one to occupy it. The clock on the wall displays the time. 2:30.

"Dr. Valentine!"

"Mr. Cavanaugh."

"You uhm--you startled me, sorry." He didn't expect him to be...right there.

The doctor stands directly in the doorway, looking at him for an overly long few seconds before stepping aside and granting him entry to the office. "Come in. Your interview will begin momentarily."

Despite the fact that he has several inches on the doctor, Monty finds himself feeling like that's far from the case, but he follows him in nonetheless.

He's only been in the office once before this, and after taking his seat he allows his eyes to wander a little while Dr. Valentine pulls up paperwork on his computer. The room is plainly unremarkable, save for the scarce personal elements.

A row of Polaroids and printed digital photos are carefully tacked up across the bottom of one of the cabinets, several depicting a young man and woman, occasionally alone but often together. He makes a note to look more closely later when it won't seem rude. The only thing truly of note in the room is that his desk chair--an ancient thing, judging by the way it creaks--is topped with an antimacassar, which he doesn't think he's ever seen outside the houses of women in their 90s, all trimmed in lace and carefully set just so. And God knows the man needs it--he doesn't know how much pomade the doctor uses, but his hair is slick and shiny and the way it's combed back is neat and tidy to an almost uncanny degree.

"Alright, let's begin." Dr. Valentine takes the protected papers from their sleeve and thumbs through them. "Theodore Montgomery Cavanaugh." He enunciates each name clearly and separately, glancing over the paper at him before looking back down. "You took one of my classes two quarters ago. Passed with a 3.8--quite respectable--and a relatively good GPA overall at a 3.78. Below average for an Ivy school, but you've got time to bring it up if that's your goal." The papers are set aside, and in their place he grabs a clipboard. "Why do you want this job? What is your goal?"

There is no sense in lying, so he doesn't. "I think it would be an incredible opportunity for me to advance my skills by working with someone who's accomplished and well respected in the community, and it looks good on a resume to have done so. When I've completed my courses here, I want the best chance I can get to be accepted when I try and transfer somewhere else."

Dr. Valentine doesn't comment, he just writes a note on his clipboard with an appraising "hm" and continues. "Next question: what is your biggest weakness in the workplace?"

"I'm extremely detail oriented, and it occasionally leads me to--"

The man clicks his tongue in disapproval, underlining something he had written before setting down his notes and leaning forward in his chair to steeple his hands on the desktop. "You were so honest on the last question, Mr. Cavanaugh, why not on this one? You'll force me to have to list 'liar' beneath weaknesses." He clicks his pen a few times thoughtfully, leaning back somewhat in his chair and giving him a bit of space to answer without being so close. "I am not the unpaid intern in Human Resources who will throw out any application that doesn't have the standard buzzwords. We're having a conversation, you will answer me like it's one. Try again."

He clears his throat, adjusting his glasses out of nervous habit before trusting himself to speak again. "I'm a horrible public speaker, I can't stand the thought of having to present to others with all of the attention on me, and I've often deferred to other classmates to bear that part of it. I'm much more comfortable to be in the background than to be on the centerstage."

"See? Honesty isn't so difficult now, is it?" Dr. Valentine's expression wears a thin smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes, and there is little else about him that indicates he is pleased with this answer. He picks his clipboard back up, scribbling something onto it before ending with a sharp jab of a period. "Now, why shouldn't that stop me from hiring you? After all, a TA would be required to do presentations on occasion, and many professors expect you to be leading lectures on your own." The unspoken part is 'not me, of course, but others'.

"Because you're not a professor who is one to shunt his work onto others. I've watched you with other TAs, and you never once had one of them behind the lectern. I do excellent otherwise, and my weakness is in an area where you wouldn't want to be utilizing me anyway."

The professor smirks somewhat as he writes. "You pay attention. An important trait for any assistant." His expression wavers somewhat, and he gives an irritated sniff before plucking a tissue from the box on the corner of his desk and giving his nose a vigorous rub. "You are unlikely to be thrust directly into the spotlight, you will be eased into it, but I would be doing you, as well as myself, a disservice in not properly equipping you to handle all potential aspects of your job, including leading a class. I would never leave you without thorough and extensive notes, and would ensure I was in the room with you to answer questions or assist you in another manner, so you can be assured you wouldn't be left with no resources or backup. Would these accommodations be acceptable?"

It's the first time he feels like he's actually breathed this whole interview. Monty lets his posture relax somewhat, adjusting his glasses briefly to occupy his hands. "I could make that work, yes."

"This is no promise of a job, you understand. We still need to run through the rest of our interview."

"Of course, I understand."

"Good. Next question: do you own a dog?"

The question strikes him so by surprise he's sure it comes across on his face. "Do I own a dog?"

"I need a teacher's assistant, not a parrot. Yes, that is what I asked. If you want to continue this interview, I suggest you answer the question."

"I do, yeah. A German Shepherd named Dolly."

He sniffs sharply as he makes a mark on the paper. "Noted. The pay for this position was listed when you applied. I'm aware it isn't the most illustrious, but there is an opportunity for negotiation on this after your first month, if you've proven yourself to be deserving of it. Will that be an issue?"

"No. It's actually more than I make at my other job, so this would let me drop the hours on that somewhat and let me focus more on this." He bites back the urge to ask what the question about his dog was about, if not to simply throw him off his game, which he's heard is something the doctor frequently does. "That shouldn't interfere with my time here, though, I'm available during your office hours and my schedule is mostly clear during your class days this coming quarter, so I can work that around whatever my course load and hours here end up."

"That takes care of my question for later, then. Now, you've taken my class before, and you've--hold on." He cuts himself off, holds up an index finger as he turns away with a wavering breath. His shoulder rise sharply as he gasps, then ducks into his elbow. "hH'RRRASHue! 'RRISH'ue!" He sneezes violently, holding his position for a second longer than strictly necessary before he lowers his arm with a sniff and plucks a pair of tissues from the box to blow his nose into. "Excuse me." He sniffs sharply again and squirts some sanitizer into his palm.

"Bless you, Doctor!"

He ignores the blessing, picking up where he left instead. "As I was saying, you've taken my classes before. You know my teaching style, and by extension, me. Are you willing to compliment this, rather than attempt to change it?"

"I am. You're very straightforward and efficient, and I think with my assistance the technological aspects would be smoother. The fiddly background bits are where I really shine."

"Are you adaptable enough to shine with whatever technology and systems it may be that the University has deemed itself willing to shill?"

"If not, I'm more than willing to spend the time watching videos or listening to hold music for the customer support." His eyes are locked on the doctor as he swipes at his nose with the tissues again with an irritated scowl. "Are you--"

Dr. Valentine cuts him off with a gasp that goes nowhere, leaving him blinking away moisture that isn't quite far enough to consider tears just yet, but whatever it is that's bothering him seems to be worming its way deeper, spreading from simply a pair of sneezes into watery eyes and nostrils that are just barely damp and pink as he sniffs again. "Customer Support is an oxymoron. If I can consign someone else to its flames, I will be all the happier for it."

"I've spent my fair share of time sitting with nothing but the Muzak and my thoughts."

"Then you're inoculated against the worst part of learning these new programs." He glances at his wristwatch, and Monty glances over his shoulder at the clock on the wall. 3:13.

"I'd say I am."

"So," he plucks another pair of tissues and swipes again at nostrils rapidly beginning to darken from a shade of pink to a shade of red, the sniffling taking on a decidedly wet sound as it progresses, "there is one other important point of your job that we need to discuss. You will, from time to time, be required to discipline your fellow students. I don't expect you to come at them with a rod, but I do expect that, when it is your time to present a lesson, you keep order in my classroom."

"What would that look like for me as a TA? Would you grant me the same authority to deduct points from exams, or to have them leave the lecture for disruption?"

"I'm not deputizing you to be Machiavelli, but I will take your input under advisement, and support your decisions regarding discipline. You may consider me your instrument of authority in the moments in which it has been ceded to you." He sniffs sharply, and once again extends an index finger with a wavering breath, before he curls into his elbow with an absolutely wrenching, "hAH-! 'RRRSH! RRASH'ue!" and another overly liquidy sniffle that sees him turning his chair away completely to blow his nose forcefully against the mounting congestion. He turns back after he seems somewhat satisfied, though it's growing more evident that the satisfaction won't last long. He looks, to put it mildly, fucking miserable

The idea of disciplining other students still doesn't sound appetizing, but he wants the job, and there's not really any way around it. "I don't like the idea, but I do feel more confident knowing I would have your backing."

The doctor scribbles something on the paperwork, flipping to another page of it. "That concludes my questions for you. Do you have any questions for me?" Red-rimmed eyes, nearly the same color as the nose that threatens to betray him again, look up from his clipboard, shiny with unspent tears held in check by whatever is in his system.

"Are you, uh...allergic to dogs?"

The look he gives him is one that starts off giving little away, before his brows pinch together and he mutters something hurriedly beneath his breath, turns his chair away--again--and sneezes--again. "hH'RRRSHuh!" He looks unsure of himself for a second, the tissues still pressed over his nose, before he finally sighs and progresses from the threat of another sneeze to a harsh sniff, a steadily less efficient attempt at blowing his nose, and a second harsh sniff before he turns back. "I am. Which brings us to my next point. Congratulations, you've got the position."

"Oh! That's gre--"

"On one condition." He stands from his chair and leans forward across the desk to bring them closer to one another. "You will keep a change of clothes here, or in your car, or on Pluto if that's what it takes, or you will shower every single day before you come here, but you will not wear anything into this office again that is covered in dander. I don't intend to medicate for allergies year-round, and this is my office more than it will be yours. Are you amenable to this? It will be added to your paperwork as stipulation."

"I, uh--yes. I can make that work. Yes."

"Excellent. Then sign here, and get ye gone."

⁂

He emerges several minutes later from the office, the sound of yet another sneeze following him out before the door closes behind him. He instinctively skitters further down the hall, away from the office, before pulling his phone out and dialing his sister's number.

"Hello?"

"Annie." He breathes a sigh of relief at her voice, and leans his head against the window pane. Students are scurrying like ants down below on the paved brick. "I just wanted to check in with you."

"Well, you know how it is on Tuesdays." She doesn't elaborate on what that actually means, and even through the crackle of the phone line and the conversations in the background, he can practically hear the frown in her voice. "Today was your interview, right? Did it...?"

"It went well. Really well, actually, I got the position."

"That's fantastic! You were applying to TA, right?"

"I was! Or I--I guess I am, now. There's just--uh, well there's one thing about it, I guess. It's for--do you remember that professor I told you about a couple quarters ago?"

"Oh, T..."

He winces at her tone. "Yeah. It's --... yeah. Uh, it's him. The interview went well and all--I mean, I got the position after all--but it's going to mean...you know...spending a lot of time around someone I can't really get a read on, and who I don't think really wants to have time spent around him."

"Well, I'll give you two pieces of sisterly advice. Number one: if he didn't want someone around, he wouldn't have opened the position. Clearly he thinks you're good enough to hack it, so don't get all weird and in your head about it. Number two: if he tries anything, I'll fly back over there and kick his ass for you. Number three--"

"I thought you said there were only two pieces of advice?"

"The second one was a freebie, it doesn't count. Number three: be prepared to say no. I know you like to be helpful and all, but you also need to set your boundaries. Don't let him walk all over you like a word I can't say while having a phone call near kids on the city bus."

"I think honestly the biggest issue is that he's allergic to dogs."

"Given that Dolly sheds an entire dog every day, I'd call that a reasonable assumption."

"It's not the hair that triggers it, really. It's the saliva and dander, and her coat can trap dust or pollen and--"

"And you still walk in with a fur coat every day. How bad was it?"

"I stopped counting after like a six or seven sneezes within our hour interview and paperwork signing. I may have hearing loss."

She laughs, and he smiles at the sound. He wishes again that she didn't live out of state. "Well, start hittin' him with the 'mines, then."

"The antihista- variety?"

"The very ones. Hey, I've gotta go, it's almost my stop and I'll have to run to make it to my shift on time, but I'm proud of you! And I'm serious about the boundaries thing--be an agreeable assistant, but firm."

"Have a good day at work, Annie."

"Promise me."

"Annie--"

"I'm not hanging up until my sweet little baby brother promises he's not gonna let his jerkoff boss treat him like a doormat."

"Aren't you on the bus still?"

"Monty!"

"Okay, okay! I promise! Go to work!"

The little disconnect chime sounds, and he drops his phone to his lap in relief. This year is going to be an exceptionally long one.

#sickfic #snzfic #snz #my fun fact of the night is that Monty got named after my original pothos that my sister and her fiance gave to me #he had a little label with his name on it and everything #RIP Montgomery Pothos you will be missed (he was dying so a coworker separated him into a bunch of Montlets that are doing well)#anyway very exciting that this is finally done #I hope other people like it because I enjoyed writing it #no editing we die like men #Joseph fic

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ikilledamanforthisurl · 4 months ago

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i hope tottmnt puts heart back into the inevitable Meet Casey Jones episode that's honestly all i can ask of any tmnt project

#ikildaman shut the fuck up #tmnt #2k3's rendition of this is everything u guys dont understand......#'12s was such a nothingburger midfest 2k3 had the heart to empathise with raph.#and gave casey his wriggle room for redemption but i moreso cared about the grace raph was given #casey in general in '12 was kindof a nothingburger he had plenty of leads to build on but never got explored #bayverse turned him into a cop and rot just incorrectly labelled karai with his name #and then they were like oh whoops no here he is actually in that movie or whatever. idfk i dont like rot #pleeeeeeeaaaase somebody give a fuck about casey. GUYS!!! CAN YOU HEAR ME #ive known ppl who were emotionally irregular and were super abusive abt it and ive known others who literally never did anything wrong ever #2k3 was so simple in its terms. theres nothing Wrong with you but you have to get your shit in order if youre losing it #this was 2003 how did television peak in 2003 #also casey kindof remained a basketcase somewhat. hes still very outwardly destructive. hes never villanised for it though.#if we're getting Back To Form (thank god) can we not do a '12 and do sumpthing a little more 2k3 #and can we Especially not do a rot and just pissfart around acknowledging the coolest deuterag this franchise has #also unrelated. i hope this animation isnt paced like rots was. whatever processing disorder i have genuinely cant keep up with it #a crumb of readability sir....?

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not-neverland06 · 5 months ago

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n a s t y d o g I logan howlett x fem!mutant!reader

One-shot A/N: I've never felt this way about a fictional character before. Every gif I see of him has me gnawing and biting at the bars of my enclosure. I want to bite him. If Hugh Jackman ever discovered what thoughts lurk inside my rotted brain about him he'd get a restraining order. This isn't OKAY Anyways... Summary: You'd thought you'd had a good thing going with Logan. You weren't officially anything to each other, but you were getting close. You truly saw a future with him, but he made it incredibly clear he did not feel the same 18+ HATE FUCKING (MDNI)

(one chance please, just one chance with him)

“Are you sure this isn’t totally clingy girlfriend of me?”

Ororo gives you an irritated look and Jean laughs. “Not at all, Scott loves it when I surprise him like this.” You’re all huddled in your room, each of you in varying stages of getting ready. Jean is finishing off her eyeliner at your vanity, Ororo is putting on her boots, and you’re trying to decide between a skirt and a dress.

You’re not entirely sure how, or why, Logan and Scott decided to go to the bar together tonight. You suspect it has something to do with Jean. She wants them to start getting along so there’s less friction when you’re all around each other.

At Jean’s idea, Logan had muttered, “When hell freezes over,” in your ear before he had left for the night. You’d gotten a little antsy without him to entertain you and had mistakenly blurted out the idea of going to visit them. Ororo had been dying to get out of the house and Jean was a little worried about her boyfriend as well. They’d agreed to go along with you and you’ve felt a weight in your stomach ever since.

Your relationship with Logan was relatively new. Hell, a month ago you’d thought he’d hated you the same he did Scott. You’d, of course, been proven wrong when you’d had a few drinks with him and things had taken a very physical turn.

You weren’t sure if he’d just wanted a one-night stand or something serious. But when you’d tried to sneak out the next morning and he’d muttered a grumpy, “Where’re you going?” You’d gotten your answer.

You hadn’t been on any real dates, there didn’t ever seem to be time for them. But you spent most of your days together. Sometimes just silently enjoying each other’s company, other times you would be holed up in one of your rooms cuddling. The thought always brings a stupid lovesick grin to your face.

It’s one of your first real relationships and you’re worried that things are moving a little too fast. At least on your end. You can already tell that you’re falling for him. Headfirst into the deep end of love. And it’s terrifying because you truly cannot tell what he thinks about you. Clearly, he likes you. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t let you follow him around like a lost puppy.

But he’s never truly said anything to you. There’s no official label as to what you two are. You say girlfriend off-handly and you usually don’t mean it when you reference yourself. You’ve never outright said he’s your boyfriend and he’s never really claimed you. He’s made it explicitly clear he doesn’t want you sleeping with other men, and you’ve said the same to him about women. You both agreed on that, but…

You kind of drive yourself crazy trying to figure this out. He’s not vocal about his feelings and everything’s still new so you don’t like pressuring him. You also worry that if you push him too far he’ll just get tired of you and move on. It’s not fair to assume that of him, and you know everything would be better if you just talked to him. But you’re scared. You’re scared the conversation will take the wrong direction and everything will blow up in your face.

Jean calls your name and your head shoots up to see both Ororo and Jean looking at you expectantly. You flush when you realize they must have been talking to you and you’d just completely zoned out thinking about Logan.

“Huh?” You blurt out, cringing at how dumb you sound.

Jean gives you a concerned look, “I can practically taste your anxiety.” The telepath frowns and offers you a comforting smile. “Don’t worry about it, I promise, Logan won’t mind at all.”

“You’re fine,” Ororo adds, because clearly the look on your face screams, I need constant validation. They’re not wrong, but still, you hate feeling like an exposed bundle of nerves. “Think of it as girl’s night, the boys just happen to be there.”

You force a smile on your face and give your most enthusiastic nod. You change into the dress and finish up with your hair. You finally start chatting with them again, engaging so it might disguise just how nervous you feel.

There’s this clenching feeling, traveling from your stomach up to your chest. It makes you sick, makes you hurt. And it’s not because you think Logan will be upset with you for crashing. He’d be relieved, if anything. There’s something else. Premonition isn’t one of your abilities, but you’re seriously starting to doubt that now.

The bar is loud when you walk in. The soles of your shoes immediately start to stick to the floor and your nose screws up in disgust at the loud laughter coming from around the pool tables. You glance around, trying to see if you can spot Logan.

You’d say you could spot him in any crowd. But has a propensity to hunker down and try to attract as little attention as possible so people don’t bother him. “There he is,” Jean taps your shoulders and points to the two men at the end of the bar.

Like you’d thought, Logan is hunched over his whiskey, glowering down at the wood under him like it had insulted him. You almost want to laugh at the sight. Some of the earlier anxiety eases its grip on you and you feel your shoulders begin to untense.

Before you can walk over Ororo grabs Jean’s wrist. “Gotta go to the bathroom,” she tugs Jean behind her.

Jean looks over her shoulder at you and smiles encouragingly, “Go to them, we’ll catch up in a second.” You give her a tentative nod and slip through the crowd. There are more people here than you thought there would be.

You’re happy not to spot any kids in the crowd. You’ve had a few too many nights out crashed by kids who thought they were good at sneaking out.

It’s easy enough not to spot you or the other women in the crowd. Mutants have gotten good at blending in with the people around them. Makes it easier to get around. It’s probably why neither Logan nor Scott stop their conversation as you approach. “So,” Scott draws the word out, fingers tapping against the glass of his beer.

“Don’t,” Logan warns. You want to laugh at his grumpy demeanor, but someone’s accidentally elbowed you and you find yourself stumbling a few steps back. It’s taking entirely too long to get to them, the bar isn’t even that big. There’s just that many people here.

Scott ignores him and rolls his eyes. “Look, we’re stuck here for a while. Try and pull that stick out of your ass.”

“How about I put one in yours?” Logan’s claws come out slightly. But then they both share an odd look and Scott smirks. “Shut the fuck up,” Logan grouses, “not like that.”

“Right,” Scott huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. He picks up his bottle and takes a long drink. You’ve nearly reached them now. You stop, though, when you hear Scott say your name. You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t. Eavesdropping now is just asking to get hurt.

You drop back into the crowd, hoping the smells of others will stop Logan from discovering you lurking behind them both. Scott continues, “How’s that going?”

You crane your neck forward, trying to hear them better over the karaoke happening behind you. Someone is butchering Britney Spears but you couldn’t care less right now. Logan shouldn’t answer. Since when has he ever shared anything with Scott?

So, imagine your surprise when his answer isn’t immediately telling him to fuck off. “Eh,” he shrugs, downing the rest of his whiskey. Your face drops in irritation. Seriously, all this skulking around for an Eh? That’s bullshit.

You keep yourself from stepping forward, forcing your feet still, and ignoring the little voice in the back of your head telling you this is a bad idea. You’ve committed this much, you’re seeing it through. Scott whistles lowly, “That bad, huh?” Oh, fuck off, Summers.

Logan shakes his head and for a moment you have a brief feeling of hope lifting you up. “Nah, not bad. It’s just, I don’t know.” Logan sits up and signals the bartender for a refill. Your snooping senses go off and you briefly see Ororo and Jean exiting the bathroom. Desperate for something to keep them at bay, you flick your wrist. The man in front of them tips his drink down Jean’s shirt, slurring out apologies. Jean huffs and Ororo brings her back into the bathroom.

Scott and Logan somehow missed the whole interaction and you promise yourself that you’ll pay for Jean’s dry cleaning. You’re definitely not going to. “Think she wants something I don’t,” Logan tells Scott, and your heart plummets to your feet. You can practically see it deflate, all the lovesickness draining out of it and onto the floor of this grimy bar.

“Like, she just wants to fuck around?”

Logan shakes his head and downs another glass of whiskey. He’s just swallowing it down like it’s water. At a certain point, the bartender gets sick of it and just leaves him with the bottle. “No, she wants something real. Like a real relationship.” Scott’s brows furrow and Logan shrugs. “Not interested.”

It’s the way he says it that really bothers you. There’s nothing wrong with wanting something different in a relationship. It happens all the time. But he says it so dismissively. He knows that you want something real with him, something secure and loving. He knows that, continues to fuck you and lead you on, and then speaks as though you’re an idiot for ever being interested in that.

Hurt hasn’t set in yet. You’re staring wide-eyed, jaw agape with shock as you stare at Logan’s back. You’d thought a conversation needed to be had. But you didn’t think that he thought of you like this. You’d thought you meant something to him.

Scott seems to share the sentiment, his lips tugged down into a frown. He leans against the bar, surveying Logan with a disbelieving look. “What?” Logan snaps.

Scott raises his hands in surrender, shaking his head and backing off. “Nothing, man, I just thought you two were serious about each other.” You miss whatever Logan says as an arm slings itself around your shoulder.

“What’re you doing?” A husky, seductive voice whispers against the shell of your ear. You jump in shock, glaring at Ororo as she grins at you. She lets her arm slide off your shoulders and glances over at Jean. “I think she was spying.”

Jean nods, nudging you forward. “Definitely spying. Hear anything good?”

You fortify your mind against her probing fingers before she can find out. “Nope,” you blurt out. You hope the racing of your heart is dismissed by your constantly frazzled nature. You hope the look on your face is explained by your earlier boredom and anxiety. You pray that none of them notice the way you lean away from Logan when the men finally turn around and notice you all.

Scott breathes out a dramatic sigh of relief and slumps onto Jean. “Thank god, I thought I was going to die trying to talk to this brick wall.” his eyes flick towards you in a blink-and-you-miss-it moment. There’s a brief pitying look before he grins. “Come to get your boyfriend?” There’s a heavy emphasis on the word that you never would have noticed had you not heard their conversations.

It’s clearly a petty dig at Logan. And you would appreciate it if you didn’t feel the sudden urge to vomit up your dinner. “Thought you might need saving from Logan.” You tell him, a chuckle hiding the slight tremor in your voice.

You’re not sure if he does, but you hope Logan notices how you avoided the word boyfriend. You hope that he hurts the same way you do. But you know, deep down, that he doesn’t care. He’s probably relieved that you didn’t use the title.

Logan gets off his stool, he wraps his arm around your shoulder, and pulls you into a brief hug. His lips press against your temple before he dips down to whisper, “Thank you,” in your ear.

Asshole, he’s not allowed to smile at you the way he is. If you weren’t in such a crowded place and already overstimulated, you’d shove him away. If your friends weren’t watching you’d take his arm and slam it down onto the bar until you hear his fucking adamantium bones break.

That might have been too far. Maybe you’re not that angry, but you’re hurt.

You place your hands against his chest, a thin smile on your lips while you hum a simple, “Mhm.” He doesn’t seem to notice the way you push away from him. It’s easily dismissed by you cheekily stealing his seat at the bar.

He comes up behind you, hands bracketing you and keeping you stuck against the bar while you order your drink. One of his hands drifts down, laying against your thigh. You know this isn’t sexual, this is him comforting you.

He shouldn’t know how horrible you feel in such busy places. He shouldn’t know that and know that his touch is grounding and then help you. Not if he doesn’t want something serious. If he didn’t want to be your boyfriend, didn’t want to be anything but a fuck, then why do this to you? Did he not think this was leading you on? Is this just him caring for you?

You’ll drown in a sea of unanswered questions before the night is over if you linger too long. You tip your head back, let your shot burn its way down your throat, and turn towards the others with a smile. You feel your worries fade and your focus loosen as you simply drift further into your mind.

You must have disassociated or something. By the time you realize you’re no longer hearing bad karaoke and your elbows aren’t sticking to the bar, you’re already home. You stare in the mirror, hand pausing as you brush your teeth before you quickly finish.

You didn’t drink much, you never do. It fucks with your abilities and causes migraines. You rinse your mouth out and glance into your bedroom. Logan groans and stretches. His back bows, muscles flexing and you rip your eyes away. You can’t let yourself be distracted by the chest you want to drape yourself across.

You need to talk to him. It’s never been more clear. You wipe your mouth and toss the towel onto the rim of the sink. You take in a deep breath, trying to get rid of the nerves plaguing you. It’s never worked before, it’s not going to suddenly cure you now.

You give up on the thought and instead, shove down the anxiety until you have enough confidence to speak. It takes a little while, Logan peaks an eye open, eyebrows quirked when he sees you just staring at him. “Something up, bub?” he flexes, on purpose, and you roll your eyes. You grab his shirt out of your hamper and toss it at him.

“Put this on. Can’t think when you look like that.”

He chuckles, “That’s the point.” at your pointed glare his smile drops and he tugs the beater on. It barely does anything to deter you. If anything you’re having more trouble paying attention. Especially now that his full attention is on you. The humor is gone from the room, a thick tension replaces it. Logan seems to feel it, sitting up straighter and glaring at you like he’s trying to read your mind. “What’s wrong?” It’s a demand more than a question.

It’s hard to look at him. But you refuse to let yourself cower now. You take in a fortifying breath and let your gaze bore into his. You put all the hurt and anger you feel into it, willing yourself to be firm. “We need to talk.”

“‘Bout what?” He’s brusque, but there’s a slight concern to his tone.

There’s no point hiding this. And maybe you had misheard, maybe there was a conversation prefacing the one you’d heard. And you’ll talk it out and everything will be okay. “I heard you and Scott talking at the bar.”

The hope you had, as minimal as it was, is dashed at your feet. He sucks in a deep breath and the look on his face has you crestfallen. You can feel your chest cave in. You feel so stupid all of a sudden. Constantly following after him, even before you started dating him. Looking at him with stars in your eyes and latching onto his every move and word.

You’d worshiped him, put him up on a pedestal he didn’t deserve. Superhuman or not, at the end of the day he was still a man. And they’ve done nothing but disappoint you. You suck your teeth, gaze dropping to your feet as you fight back the tears in your eyes. “Right,” you whisper, stepping back from him.

“Look,” he starts. You force your eyes up and watch as he rubs uncomfortably at the back of his neck. He takes a step towards you and you shake your head, stepping away from him. His arms fall to his sides and he sighs. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“That’s it?” You demand, tone incredulous. You weren’t some great love or anything. But that’s seriously all he has to say.

He opens his mouth, eyes softening as he stares at you. Then he snaps it shut, something covers his face and his expression is borderline cruel as he sneers at you. “Not my fault you got in over your head, kid. Never said I wanted anything more with you.” He points at you, and you suddenly feel like a little girl getting scolded. You’ve never had a partner make you feel this small, especially not Logan. “You were just convenient.”

You rear back like he slapped you. You think it might have hurt less than that. To know you wasted so much time on such a fucking dick makes you want to throw up. Or scream, or cry. You can’t decide on one. But your powers can, the walls are shaking, knick-knacks falling off your shelves as energy pulses from you.

You’ll face the hurt, the sadness, the horrible ache of rejection later. Right now, you need him out of your face before you bring the whole mansion crumbling down around you. “Out.” You grind the word out, turning away from him and clutching your hands to your chest. You take in quick, rapid breaths, trying to think of anything other than how horrible you feel.

You haven’t lost control like this in a long time. You’re not going to give him the satisfaction of being the reason you get put on probation again. He whispers your name, coming up behind you like he’s going to touch you.

You want to lash out, want to hurt him like he’s hurt you. But you’ll only cause more damage than necessary. He’s not worth hurting the kids in the rooms around you. You shove past him, ignoring the way he shouts your name.

You dart out into the hall, grateful there are so few people milling around. Nearly everyone’s asleep, just a few stragglers finishing up their homework for tomorrow. A few of them give you odd looks that turn concerned when they see Logan chasing after you. Your bones are practically vibrating by the time you make it outside.

You rush towards the grove of trees at the back of the mansion. Your knees give out under you before you can make it very far. Energy pulses out of you in an explosive circle. You hear bark crack and turn into nothing but dust as the air around you trembles.

It’s a relief, like going to the bathroom after holding it all day. You feel it drain away from you, a plug pulled out as the energy rushes from you. It slows after a minute, feeling more like a leak than a steady stream.

Your hands shake by your sides as you lay trembling on the grass. Your eyelids flutter shut and you try and keep them open but it’s hard. All of your energy had been spent keeping yourself in check until you made it out of the mansion.

“I’ve got you,” a voice mutters near your ear. Familiar strong arms dip under your knees, lifting you up and pulling you into a sturdy chest. You recognize the body, recognize the uncomfortable warmth coming from him. But your tongue won’t work and you're passing out before you can try and push him away.

You’re in your own bed when you wake up again. You’re briefly comforted by the warm feeling of the sheets around you before you realize how cold the other side of the bed is. You’re so used to the feeling of someone being beside you that it’s jarring for no one to be there. You sit up, a spark of anxiety lighting up inside you before it’s being quelled by an outside force.

“I think it’s best if we keep that under control.” You’re not surprised to hear Charles’s voice. You can’t be, not when he’s actively keeping you calm and placid. You lean back against your headboard. You tilt your head lazily, looking at him while he looks out the window.

“That tree was a hundred years old.”

You wince, face screwing up when you remember the large oak tree you obliterated last night. “I can remake it,” you promise.

“You could,” he corrects, “but whatever happened last night between you and Logan is causing your powers to be volatile.” He finally turns towards you, the motor of his wheelchair a dull buzz as he smiles at you. There’s no resentment in his gaze at least. You’d known he wouldn’t be mad at you. He was used to accidents like this. Had you hurt another person, however, this would be an entirely different conversation.

There’s a dull ache in your chest at the mention of Logan, but it’s quickly covered by another wave of calm from Charles. He smiles and holds out two metal bracelets. They’re thick, something red inlaid into the black metal. They look like handcuffs more than anything. His lips quirk up at your thought and you frown.

“That’s what they are, right? Cuffs.”

“You’re not a criminal,” he assuages, his tone gentle as you take them from him. There’s a small silver button inside that you click and the metal springs open. You place your left wrist inside and it snaps shut, it’s a snug fit. It won’t be moving around anytime soon. You put the right one on and feel Charles’ hold on your mind ease the second it's closed. Every horrible feeling from last night crashes down on you and you nearly choke on it.

You wonder how Charles managed to keep you asleep for so long without the roof crumbling. He chuckles, the noise tired. “Jean helped me. It took a while for the cuffs to be ready.”

The way he says that causes alarms to go off in your head. “How long?” He takes in a sharp breath and shakes his head, attempting to dismiss the question. “Charles,” you snap, voice bordering on a shout.

“Two days,” he says. You gasp and slump back against your sheets. He says your name but you get to your feet and pace. You don't know what to do with yourself. There’s energy buzzing under your skin, but the cuffs are keeping it at bay. It feels wrong like your pores are being clogged with acid.

“Two days.” You look over at him, horror painting your face and you can see why he was so apprehensive to tell you. “It’s never been that bad before.”

“No,” he starts cautiously, “It hasn’t. Which makes me wonder, what transpired between you and Logan that destroyed my grandfather’s tree?”

You cringe at the mention of the tree. He’s never going to let go of that. Even when you recreate it, he’s still going to hold it over your head. His teasing eases you out of the spiral you were heading down and you glance over at him. “You’ve been in my head for two days. I’m sure both you and Jean already know.”

He smacks his lips together and shrugs, clasping his hands in front of himself. “Simply seeing if you wanted to discuss it, my dear.”

You vehemently shake your head and sit back down on your bed. “No, I don’t want to talk about him. I don't want to see him.” Charles gives you a look like he doesn’t believe you and you hate it. You truly don’t want to see Logan again. Just thinking about him makes you want to explode. He was a pig and you regret ever wasting your time on him.

There’s a shriveled part of your heart weeping somewhere, but you crush in your fist until it shuts the fuck up. “Right,” Charles nods. “I do believe it’s best for your recovery that we keep you two separated for a while.” He rolls past you and places a comforting hand on yours. “Rest, you’ll feel more like yourself soon.”

You nod and watch him leave. Exhaustion suddenly seems to drop its heavy weight on your shoulders. Two days being restrained by telepaths probably wasn’t very restful. You lay across your comforter, rolling over and hoping when you wake up your heart will be healed.

Two weeks. Two pathetic, snot-filled, and disgusting weeks of sobbing over Logan. You felt like a sixteen-year-old again, crying over the boy that didn’t like you back. It was awful, especially knowing that the entirety of the mansion knew what was wrong with you.

Your students would leave your class and you would lock your doors, hiding under your desk as you wept. Those with superhearing or telepathy would bake you cookies and leave gifts at your door. It was sweet, but honestly made you feel ten times worse. You felt like your sadness was a burden you were forcing everyone to carry.

Your mother would be so disappointed in you. She’d always told you that you mourn a relationship half the amount of time you were in it. Of course, hers never lasted more than a few weeks. And she’d had more boyfriends than you could count on three hands.

Besides, you were allowed to wallow for a while. This was someone you were starting to fall for. To be so blind going into and leaving the relationship was awful. Having the rug ripped out from under you had been cruel and needless. You’re resentful and grateful he’d been so horrifically honest with you. On one hand, if the relationship had just ended, you’d be pining after him. Wondering what you’d done to lose such an amazing guy.

But being faced with the brutal truth, knowing he was a piece of shit, it makes you hate yourself. You should have seen it. Should have known that he didn’t want you like you wanted him. But there were never any signs. You’d run it through your head a million times. Every interaction you’ve ever had with him. None of it shows you where he’d been lying to you or using you. You can’t even trust yourself anymore.

There’s a loud knock on your door and you sniffle, tossing another tissue in the trash as you go to answer it. “Hello?” You croak. You can barely see, eyes puffy and so swollen your vision is blurry.

“Holy hell,” Ororo scoffs and shakes her head. She pushes into your room and slams the door shut before anyone can see how awful you look. To be fair, you keep yourself relatively put together during the day. But it’s after hours now, you’re allowed to be a mess.

“You look like shit.”

Neither of you are prepared as you begin to blubber. Your lips tremble and your voice shakes as you begin to sob. “I know,” you wail. “I hate it.” Ororo’s eyes widen in horror and she quickly pushes you into your desk chair, grabbing a box of tissues and shoving it in your hands.

“I feel,” you stutter, having to take in a few shuddering breaths before you can get the words out. “He tore out my heart and ripped it up with his stupid fucking claws.”

“Okay, okay,” Ororo runs her hands over your arms, trying to soothe you. “I know, sh, it’s okay.” She groans, “Stop crying,” she pleads under her breath.

“I’m trying!” You snap at her, running hands over your wet cheeks and trying to swallow down the rest of your tears.

“Look,” she steps back and shakes her head. She glances down at you, disgust poorly hidden on her face. She’s really fucking bad at comforting someone. “This is awful, I can’t take it anymore. You two keep dancing around each other and you’re putting everyone on edge. You won’t stop crying and he keeps going off,” she holds her hands up and shakes her head. “I just can’t do it anymore.”

You frown, brows turning down in confusion. “What?” You didn’t think Logan would be mad. You pictured him skipping through a field of daisies, happy to finally be rid of you. It only made you hate yourself more that you were still crying over it all.

“He’s kind of losing it,” she seems reluctant to relent the information. “Look,” she kneels in front of you and snatches the tissue box from your hand. She tosses it to the side and forces you to meet her eyes. “He’s in love with you. We all know it, Jean’s confirmed it. He loves you, he needs you, he’s just terrified to admit it. He’s afraid of what's going to happen if you two become real.”

Your eyes widen with the realization. She nods enthusiastically as you connect the pieces. You can’t deny what’s so plainly laid in front of you when she assures you that even Jean knows. Jean knowing means she just did a nosy dive into his head.

You can picture what could happen. With rom-com levels of nauseating romance, you run to find him. You tell him you don’t care that he’s afraid. You don’t care he pushed you away and you do love him. He’s not going to lose you. Nothing can rip you apart. You ride off into the sunset on Scott’s bike blah blah blah.

This isn’t a fucking romance. And you’re not going to cry over a man who's too much of a pussy to admit he has feelings. You like men who have emotional depth deeper than a teaspoon. “Are you fucking kidding me?"

Ororo’s face blanches and she slowly backs away from you as you stand. “No,” she answers slowly, like she’s not sure of herself now.

“That’s what I’ve been crying over?” You feel upset for an entirely different reason. You never misread the signs. You never missed a hint that he didn’t feel what you did. He did! He was just happier letting you doubt yourself and the love you held for him than admitting he felt something. You tear off the depression hoodie you’ve been living in for the past two weeks. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”

You don’t know where you’re going. Normally, you’d run into a forest to let out a blast of energy. It drained you enough that you wouldn’t have to feel anything. But with these cuffs on, you can’t do anything.

You storm out of your room and stomp down the stairs, uncaring who you wake up. You’ve wasted so much time on Logan, you refuse to stay in your room and cry for another fucking night.

“I want to see her,” Logan growls. He tries to move around Charles, but he stops him with his mind, holding him in place while Jean disappears inside your room. Logan watches her go and glares at her retreating back as the door closes behind her.

It’s been a day already, you’ve never needed to be out for more than a few hours. He doesn’t want to think that there’s anything wrong with you, that he might have permanently broken something inside you.

That talk at the bar with Scott had been stupid. He would have said anything to get him to shut the fuck up and leave him alone. He didn’t really mean what he said, he just wanted him to back off. And saying that your relationship wasn’t anything was quicker than pouring out every thought he’s had of you.

It was easier lying than it was to admit just how much he wanted you. Just how far he would go for you. But then you’d overheard, and you brought it up. And there’d been faith on your face. Like even you couldn’t believe what he had said because you could see through the bullshit.

But all Logan had seen was a way out. This was an opportunity to finally get out of the suffocating clutches of something he didn’t want to admit was love. He took the chance before he could think. It’s what he was used to. Taking the easy way out, especially when it came to shit like emotions.

He hadn’t thought you were going to explode, though. Because that’s exactly what you’d done. By the time he’d caught up to you, you’d burned a crater into the ground and had destroyed Charles’ stupid fucking tree.

Seeing you like that, laying there lifeless, it terrified him. He didn’t want to live in a world that you weren’t in. There was no fucking point. It was sobering, realizing that, and then realizing that he was the reason you were like that in the first place.

He didn’t want to live without you and he certainly would never be able to come to terms with being the reason you were dead. But it didn’t matter, whatever realizations he was coming to. Charles and Jean were completely blocking him from your room. They weren’t even giving him a chance to look at you. And he was about five seconds away from ripping the old bastard’s head off and just barrelling inside.

He didn’t care what they said, he needed to see that you were okay. “I’m afraid you’re not going to be able to see her for a very long time.”

“Stay out of my head,” Logan growls, glaring down at the man. “What are you talking about?” He presses, finally processing the rest of his sentence.

Charles sighs and rolls away from him. Logan glares at his back but ultimately follows. “You were the cause of this, yes?” Reluctantly, Logan nods, there’s no point in hiding it. He’s sure Charles already knows. “For her own safety, the two of you will need to remain separated.”

That had been it. There was no arguing about it. No fighting Charles. It was for your safety that he stayed away from you. No matter how much he wanted to explain himself, he wouldn’t risk another meltdown like that.

You didn’t deserve to get hurt because of someone like him. He wouldn’t be able to stand hurting you again.

But two weeks seemed like a lot. At a certain point, he’s sure you’re just avoiding him. He knows he can’t blame you. He’d been a fucking idiot. But that didn’t make him any happier. If anything, he was getting more and more pissed off every day.

He had less patience for mistakes. Was lashing out at the kids more often and don’t even get started on the petty fucking fights he was picking with Scott. How long did you fucking need before you talked to him again?

He knows you’re upset, your crying keeps everyone up at night. Something he’s sure you’d be mortified to learn about. Why won’t you let him comfort you? Why do you have to be so petulant, running around the corner every time you see him? Pointedly ignoring him when you’re in the same room together.

He could fix this, make this all better. But you’re just not letting him. He knows this is why he loves you. It’s why he was so drawn to you. You seem like a bundle of nerves, constantly flitting around and keeping yourself small. It had been off-putting at first. And then he’d seen you training with Scott, kicking his ass more like. A switch had been flicked in his head.

He could finally see you for what you were. He finally realized that it was your abilities you were keeping small. You were a fucking spitfire and you didn’t hesitate to tell him off, he loved it. Loved arguing with you just so he could see you get all pissed off.

But that stubborn attitude he loved was really biting him in the ass right now.

There’s a knock on his bedroom door and he doesn’t even get to pretend it’s going to be you. He smells Jean’s perfume and rolls his eyes. He puffs on his cigar and contemplates ignoring her.

“Don’t be a jackass, open the damn door.”

Fuckin’ telepaths. “What?” He snaps at her the second the door is open. Her face screws up when she smells the smoke from his cigar. He knows she wants to put it out, and can see it in the twitch of her fingers. He raises a brow, a silent challenge to try him. He’s itching for another fight and she can feel it.

She lets out a sharp breath, choosing her battles wisely and backing off. He’s almost disappointed. “We need to talk. This whole thing between the two of you is ridiculous. You’re a mess, she’s a mess…”

Her voice trails off into nothing more than the annoying pitch of a fly. Logan can’t be bothered to listen to her scold him. He’s not a fucking kid, and maybe if you were acting like an adult, they wouldn’t be having this problem.

A few doors down he can hear you shouting, then the door to your room slams open. He darts off his bed, opening his own door to see what you’re doing. He only sees the back of your head as you angrily stomp down the stairs.

Enough is fucking enough, he was finishing this now. He was sick of your side of the bed being empty and the stupid fucking glare on your face every time you saw him. He doesn’t even bother saying anything to Jean as he leaves, just chases after you.

Jean watches him go with a perturbed look. She steps out of the room and glances down the hall. Ororo steps out of your room and walks towards her. “Well?” Jean probes.

Ororor shrugs, “She’s over it.” Jean smiles but it’s quickly wiped off her face by Ororo’s expression. “Not in the way we wanted.

Jean clenches her eyes shut and takes in a deep breath. She needs you two to figure your shit out or she’s never going to be able to get a good night’s sleep again.

You find yourself in the gym. It’s not your favorite place in the world, you don’t usually get to train with the others. You’re stuck with telepaths, mainly the ones who can shut your powers down if you get too out of control. That hasn’t been a problem since you got the cuffs, but you’ve been too sad to test them out.

Now you find yourself obliterating a punching bag. You wrap the energy around your fists and let it protect the thin skin as you pummel into the bag. You don’t know what else to do. You can’t have energy meltdowns anymore. You have to try and funnel it all out physically, but it’s not working. Nothing is.

“Imagining it’s me?” You pause midswing. You glance over to the door just in time to see Logan stalking towards you. He unzips his jacket slowly. So slowly it almost seems provocative. He tugs it off and tosses it onto a nearby bench.

You scoff as you watch him. “Do you ever have a shirt on?”

He shrugs and moves towards the ring in the middle of the gym. His movements are lithe and fluid as he hops onto the ring, every bit a wild animal. You watch as the muscles in his torso ripple and force your eyes off of him. You try and focus your attention back on the bag, but all your earlier energy is gone. Your mind is completely wrapped around Logan.

Which you’re sure is exactly what he wants, or he wouldn’t be staring at you so smugly as he leans against the ropes and waits for you to acknowledge him. You suck on your teeth, irritation blooming in sporadic bursts throughout your body that has you nearly shaking. Finally, you give in.

He smirks the second your eyes meet, “I can take it, sweetheart. A lot better than that little toy of yours can.” He nods towards the punching bag but the insinuation isn’t lost on you. You and Logan had been very active in your relationship. You could barely go a day without tasting each other.

You’ve been pent up since the breakup. You’d given in a few days ago, pulled out your old vibrator, and tried to bring even a semblance of joy back into your life. But nothing could compare to Logan.

His tongue darts out, wetting his lips as he waits for you to react. He’s standing there, staring down at you with all the surety in the world that you’re going to fuck him. It makes you want to dig your nails in and rip him apart, bit by bit.

You can already picture it in your mind, using your abilities to pick him apart until he’s nothing but molecules dispersed through the air. He’s lucky you have the cuffs on, without them you’re sure he’d already be dead.

You smirk and move towards the edge of the ring, your voice drops as you purr up at him, “You wanna play, Logan?”

He grins and moves off the ropes, starting towards you as you make your way onto the ring. You’re slightly less graceful than he was, but you’re too focused on wiping the smug look off his face to pay attention. “Come on kid,” he taunts, voice as low as it usually is when he’s fucking into you. “Let’s see what you got.”

You’re not stupid enough to just outright swing at him. You feint to the right and bring your knee up into his ribs. He only needs one hand to wrap around your thigh and drag you forward. His other hand goes to your hip, tugging you closer until you’re practically grinding against each other. You grit your teeth and glare up at him.

“Come on, sweetheart, that can’t be all you got for me.” Energy wraps around your head, blurring the air around you. You slam your temple against his, it provides enough of a distraction for you to yank your leg out of his grip. You throw your right fist into his ear, bouncing back with a grin as he shakes his head.

He practically growls as he reorients himself. You shrug and smirk, “What, don’t tell me that’s all you got, wolvie.”

“Don’t fuckin’ call me that,” he grumbles. You open your mouth, prepared to taunt him again. But he’s lunging towards you and you just barely have enough time to dart out of his way. You know he’s going easy on you. He could have had you just then if he really wanted this.

But he’s dragging this out. Forcing you to spend as much time with him as you can. It only pisses you off further. You plant your foot on his back and kick him forward. He barely even stumbles and it only further confirms your suspicions. “Stop fucking holding back,” you yell at him.

He turns around slowly. You almost expect there to be a sneer on his face, something angry. Instead, he looks fucking thrilled, like this is all just foreplay for him. He laughs, so low you can barely hear it, and his chest flexes as his claws come out.

“You sure?” It’s a taunt, a dare, he knows you aren’t going to take the bait. You’d be stupid to, you don’t heal like he does. Once those things get in you, you’re screwed. But right now, you’re too pissed off to try and care.

You don’t say anything, you just duck under his fist as he swings at you. You know he made it easy for you, giving you an opening to fall into. He’s treating you like you’re something fragile. And maybe you are. One wrong move in this fight and you might not make it through the night. But anger is making you blind to logic.

Him playing fair just makes you want to play dirty. You use the opening he gives you, letting energy form around your fist and pulling back just enough to slam into his ribs. He coughs, doubling over as you hear bones crack under your hit. He’ll heal in seconds, you can’t bring yourself to feel too bad for him.

Maybe if he ever took you seriously you might not be such a bitch. But he didn’t think you were good enough to be honest with and he still was treating you like a plaything. In your opinion, he deserves whatever you give him and more. He doubles over and you swing your leg around, bringing it down across his face.

You hear a crack as your socked foot connects with his face, something crunches underneath you. And when your sole hits the mat again you see the blood leaking from his nose. You almost apologize. Almost, then you see the look on his face. His pupils are swallowing the hazel of his eyes, lips parted as he pants through his teeth. He looks fucking animalistic.

You have no warning as he pounces on you. His lips smother your own, moving over you with little to no grace. There’s nothing romantic or gentle about this. His fingers are digging so hard into your shirt, you’re sure you hear the seams rip. But you can’t bring yourself to care.

One of your hands goes to his hair, tugging at the roots until he’s groaning into your mouth. You rake your nails up his back roughly. He cusses against your lips, hand traveling up to your chin so he can roughly jerk you back.

He stares down at you, a silent question on his face. You’ve barely nodded before he’s descending upon you again. Lips and teeth clash borderline painfully as he lowers you onto the mat. You’re missing all the usual love and tenderness he treats you with, but you don’t care.

You want to be rough. You want to hurt him like he hurt you, make him ache for you the way you do him. You wrap your legs around his, lifting your pelvis until you have enough leverage to flip him. Your thighs straddle his waist and you grind down against the prominent bulge in his sweatpants.

He groans into your open mouth, large palms grabbing at your ass and spreading you so he can thrust between your clothed thighs. You can’t help but moan at the friction. It’s just enough to keep you on edge, he pulls back every time you think you might be close to something real building.

You rip your mouth off his. He glares up at you as you grab his hair and yank his head back. You slam his head hard enough into the mat for it to echo through the room and he growls against your grip. You grin down at him as you slowly get off him. You make a show of stripping, enjoying the way his eyes track your movements. He looks like a dog, panting and waiting for his treat.

You’re tempted to get yourself off, making him watch, and then leave him straining against his sweatpants. But you need this bad, need him to scratch the itch you can’t reach so you can finally get him out of your head. Neither of you are patient as he jerks his sweatpants down just enough for his cock to pop out.

It’s already leaking from the tip like a faucet. You kneel, straddling his waist again. You don’t have to do much to slick him up. You pump him a few times before he’s gripping your wrist and jerking your hand away. “Get up here,” he commands, voice rough as he grips your hips. You don’t even get a chance to protest before he’s flipping you over.

He grabs your thighs and wraps them around his waist. Your ass is off the ground, hovering above his lap as he lines up with your slit. You moan when the tip rubs against your clit. “Whose teasing now?” You grit out, glaring at him.

His lips curl up, that insufferable smirk on his face before he slams into you. The attitude is practically fucked out of you as he starts pumping in and out. You groan, raking your hands down his chest. He fucking moans at the pain, blood blooming under your nails and immediately closing the further down you go.

Neither of you are giving up this fight, you don’t want to lose, not even while you’re fucking. He pulls out of you and flips you over so fast you don’t even have time to whine. He’s back in you before you can blink, hips slapping into you in a way that you know is going to leave bruises tomorrow. You’re not going to be able to sit for a week and he knows it. His hands are groping at the skin of your ass, pulling you apart and watching the skin ripple as he fucks into you.

You’re not going to last long. You’ve been too desperate, too pent up while you’ve been pissed off at him. He leans over you, draping himself across you lazily. You groan at the added weight, it only adds to the sensation, only makes you want him deeper inside you. “Thought you didn’t want me anymore, sweetheart.” He whispers in your ear and you flutter around him as his hand snakes around your waist, rubbing tight circles on your clit.

You open your mouth but all that comes out is disjointed moans. You know there’s something sarcastic in there, and he must know too because he laughs at your pathetic mumbled sentence. “I don’t know,” he leans back and watches as he makes room for himself inside you. “Seem to need me real bad now.”

Your nails dig into the mat, energy leaking through your fingertips and warming up the canvas beneath you. You can feel it fluctuating, fighting against the cuffs the closer he brings you to the edge. “Fuck you,” the words escape you at a particularly deep thrust and you struggle to keep your eyes open.

He pauses and you nearly cry at the loss of movement. “Sorry, couldn’t hear you. What’d you say? Stop?”

You glare over your shoulder at him “Don’t you fucking dare, Logan.” You let your power push up against his back, forcing his hips to move again. He chuckles at the move, fingers creating figure eights on your nub.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart,” he protests, voice innocent. “Ah, fuck,” his voice is nothing more than low grunts and groans in your ear the closer the both of you get to your release. You can’t speak anymore, can’t think. You can feel it cresting higher and higher inside you.

Your abilities are rising with your release. They’re pushing against the cuffs, fighting desperately against the control the foreign metal has on your powers. You can feel it, heat building up under your skin, like a tingling on the tip of your tongue that you just can’t reach. It’s Logan’s release that finally tips you over the edge.

The way his breath catches and his hips stutter in their perfect rhythm as warmth floods you from the inside out. You can feel it, him, dribbling down your thighs and staining the mat beneath you. It has you clenching around him, pushing your hips back weakly while you let the feeling overwhelm you. You nearly black out. Two weeks without him hadn’t felt long until you remembered what you were missing.

You lose your sense of time, dropping to the mat like your bones have gone liquid, dripping out of you. You can feel Logan draped over you still, his weight a comforting blanket that nearly has you drifting to sleep. Naked, in the middle of the boxing ring. He pulls out of you and you whimper at the loss.

He shushes you, rubbing a hand up your spine and pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your temple. He wraps his arms around you, laying down and pulling you back into his chest. It takes a few minutes of quiet cuddling for you to remember what exactly led you down to the gym in the first place.

You feel disgusted with yourself for giving in to him so easily. It’s clear what his plan had been. And you’d fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. You’d barely even fought against him. Of course, you could reason that you needed to get the tension out. This was the perfect way to funnel out your built-up energy.

But you’re disgusted with yourself for giving in to him so easily. You just disregarded dignity and self-respect for a chance to get him between your legs. You were such a fucking idiot. No wonder this is all he wanted you for.

“Shit,” you mutter, trying to pull yourself out of his grip. Your eyes widen as his arms tighten around your waist. He tugs you back down until he’s got you in what essentially feels like a headlock. He could easily pass it off as spooning, but it feels a little more demanding than that. “Logan,” you warn, the silent peace of the moment officially shattered.

“Don’t,” he gripes. You can fight against him for as long as you want, but you’ll only tire yourself out. His arms are literally metal bands around you. “Let me talk and then you can run off.” You huff and wait, but he never speaks. Finally, you look over your shoulder and glare at him. “Well?”

You roll your eyes, “Fuck’s sake,” you mutter. “Alright, speak.”

You can feel his grin against the back of your head. If he didn’t have you in such a tight grip, you’d elbow him in the gut just to be petty. “I made a mistake,” you scoff and he keeps going. Stopping you from interrupting him with something bitchy. “You weren’t just something convenient to me, sweetheart.” he pauses and chuckles, “You’re a huge fucking pain in my ass.”

“Is this your idea of an apology?” You snap, “Because this is pathetic.”

He doesn’t say anything and you’re tempted to snark at him again. But then the world is flipped on its side as he jerks you around and forces you to face him. Your chests rub together, the sweaty skin sticking together and bordering on uncomfortable. “You ever shut up?” He asks, but there’s no heat to the words. If anything he looks fond of you, and it makes you shift around, trying not to look him in the eye. But there’s nowhere for you to hide, you’re both naked and bare before each other.

You’re as physically vulnerable as he must feel emotionally. And as much as this is a horrible way to display how he’s feeling, you’re starting to understand him a little better. You know why this conversation is so hard for him, why he can’t accept that someone truly loves him and he loves her back.

But that’s not going to get him out of it. He’s still yet to say the words. Maybe if he manned up and said something real you’d consider forgiving him. You give him an expectant look and he sighs, forehead pressed against yours as he slumps over you. You want to pretend you’re annoyed at the contact, but you’ve been craving it since you ran away two weeks ago.

You’ve been desperate for this warmth that only he can provide you. Without realizing it, you nuzzle further into his chest, hands drifting up to wrap around his bare waist. Logan feels the tightness in him ease slightly at the way you curl into him. He’s got a shot, even if you try and tell him he doesn’t.

It’s silent for a while, while you linger in the emotions of what just happened and he tries to find the right words. He leans down, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and smiling against the shell of your ear. “I love you,” he whispers.

You’d told yourself you’d only consider forgiving him if he said those words. But that’s only because you’d never thought he would actually say it. You didn’t think he was capable of admitting that to himself. It seems so out of character for him. But, maybe, you don’t know him as well as you thought you did.

He pulls back, hand landing on your jaw and gently guiding your head out of his neck. He gives you an expectant look but you’re finding it hard to meet his eyes. You’ve been waiting for him to say that, but now it feels like you can’t. You’re still struggling to forgive him. He put you through so much unnecessary hurt just because he couldn’t face his own feelings.

And now you’re struggling to do the same. “I want to say it back,” you tell him. “But how am I supposed to trust that the next time things get hard, you won’t lash out again?”

He frowns, an irritated huff of breath shooting out his nose. But you know it’s frustration towards himself. For letting you both get to this point because he couldn’t just say three words. “I’ll wait,” he promises. “For as long as it takes, I’ll wait.”

You smile and nod, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face in his neck. You’re sure you’ll be saying it sooner rather than later. But what’s the harm in making him squirm a little? He deserves it.

A/N: I don’t write smut, it’s literally in my rules. I think I stared at a gif of him for too long and some horny ass demon possessed me and made me write this. Forgive me, universe, I’m no better than a man.

#Wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x you #x men #deadpool and wolverine #wolverine #smut #ohmygod #i can’t believe i wrote this #Someone sedate me #im just a girl #i cant be blamed LOOK AT HIM #he's actually older than every adult man in my life #can you tell i need therapy

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witchcraftandgeekness · 1 month ago

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Things we (me) are forgetting about Six of crows, not in order:

• There were rumours that Wylan was caught in an affair with his tutor

• Inej killed rinca moten (the desert lizard) that Matthias claimed he never seen being defeated before. She did it in few seconds too

• Jesper and Nina had chloropellets that they used to put other prisoners to sleep stitched under their skin. And had to cut them out to use them

• Matthias had a buzzcut for whole two books and half; also, half of SoC he had brown hair and brown eyes tailored

• Kaz had lockpicks and bloody explosives swallowed for the entirety of heist, and had to regurgitate them every other hour

• When Nina was young, she wanted to go to Fjerda as an avenging warrior or a spy (foreshadowing, I guess)

• Inej used Kaz's gloves to climb in the incenerator scene

• After learning Inej's real name, Kaz asked if that's what she preferred to be called

•Kaz's pov has shown that he probably had fracture or other injury from when he jumped while carrying Inej in his arms, and it was never mentioned him getting any medical attention. My boy been running this heist like this, AND without his cane for hours

• They blew up the nation's holy magical tree (somehow I keep forgetting this part)

• Matthias gave Kaz an agressive CPR until Nina took over. So his heart probably stopped during heist? (Somebody just give him a vacation or something)

•Nina flirts/ed with Kaz (as he had mentioned himself, she just loves flirting with everybody and everything)

•Inej seems to be the ONLY one in the Dregs without their tattoo

•Matthias labeled Inej as a demon in his head as well, not only Kaz

•Matthias' middle name is Benedik. I think only his and Jesper's second names were revealed (very likely that they are the only ones who have them)

•Kaz gave Matthias the "you wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me" talk (like, literally)

•“You can’t spend his money if you’re dead.”

“I’ll acquire expensive habits in the afterlife.”

•Inej thought that Kaz "at least owes me his best imitation of a human being".

•Wylan was standing up to Kaz several times, even at times when others wouldn't (like right after the Oomen incident)

•Matthias has the coolest nicknames for everybody in general

•Kaz kinda thinks more of Inej than others do? Has more faith in her and how strong she is, if you will

•Kaz went back for the Black Tips after Inej was injured and "there was enough blood to paint a barn red" (reminder that he still has a fracture after running with her in his hands and jumping off great heightswhile carrying her)

•Tolya was mentioned in SoC ("There’s a Heartrender at the Little Palace who can recite epic poetry for hours. Then you’d wish you had died.”)

•Matthias thanked Inej personally for being the reason they made it out of the harbor alive (that's right, everybody must respect Inej)

•Kaz wants reassurance that Inej believes in him once in a while

•Everybody feels kinda good about sharing secrets with Kaz cuz he's Dirtyhands and he wouldn't judge anything

•Kaz and Inej have a series of silent signals?

•Kaz said "You don't want a look at what's inside my head, Nina dear" while wearing fucking dumb goggles

•Inej is the only sacred thing in Kaz's life, and she made him feel like a boy still believing in existence of magic

#i had this in my drafts #for months apparently #since i reread soc this summer #six of crows #wylan van eck #inej ghafa #matthias helvar #jesper fahey #nina zenik #kaz brekker

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dollishmehrayan · 19 days ago

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# “HOLD UP, POSE!” ── .✦ ( model!reader x batboys s/o kinda requested ˚⟡˖ )

a/n: so sorry for the break and how i traumatized half of you guys with my rant (if I suffer you gonna do too && let’s move on now ) and it’s lowkeyy funny ngl but omgg, I’m finally back though soo yeah but I’m finally taking requests again for a bit too so about that yeah and also make sure to go vote on the poll, we’re at 600+ votes already for my 1k event!! Tags: (batboys x model!reader)

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Your biggest fan, no contest. He has a folder on his phone labeled “My Gorgeous Girl” filled with all your magazine covers, runway shots, and candid photos he’s sneakily taken of you (even the ones where you’re eating pizza in sweats).

Loves to drop the fact that you’re a model into conversations. Someone says something even remotely related, and Dick is like, “Oh, that reminds me of the time yn walked for Valentino. She looked stunning. Anyway, how’s your dog?”

Flirty but lowkey jealous. He’s all smiles at your shoots, but if a photographer or fellow model gets a little too friendly, he’ll sidle up behind you, wrap an arm around your waist, and casually go, “Hey, babe, everything good here?”

Runs your fan page in secret. He denies it every time, but you know it’s him posting like archive photos of you? with captions like, “Truly the most breathtaking woman alive.”

Always hypes you up. You’re stressing before a runway show? He’s holding your hands, looking you dead in the eyes, and saying, “You’re going to kill it, just like always. They’re not ready for you.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Pretends not to care, but he’s secretly obsessed. You’ll catch him flipping through your magazines with a bored expression, but the dog-eared pages of all your spreads say otherwise.

Gets grumpy when he has to share you with the world. “Do you really have to fly to Milan again? Can’t they get someone else to wear the fancy coat?” But he’s the first one to text you after your show with a “You looked amazing. Miss you, though.”

Always lurking at your events. He doesn’t do red carpets, but you’ll spot him in the back of the after-party, leaning against a wall with a drink in hand, watching you like you’re the only person in the room.

Jealous but funny about it. If a male model gets paired with you for a shoot, Jason will grumble, “You know I could wear that suit better, right?”

Says he doesn’t care about fashion but definitely critiques it. “They put you in that? Really? That’s what they think is high fashion?” (Meanwhile, he still owns a leather jacket he’s had since he was 17.)

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

The low-key proud boyfriend. Tim doesn’t brag about you… unless someone else brings it up. Then it’s a full PowerPoint presentation: “Oh, you didn’t know she walked the Paris Fashion Week finale? Let me show you.”, “it’s not that serious Tim.”

Forgets how famous you are sometimes. He’s so focused on his work that when he accompanies you to an event, he’s always surprised when people scream your name. “Wow, they’re… really excited to see you, huh?”

Pretends to be chill but panics at your shoots. If you’re wearing something too revealing, Tim’s sitting in the corner like, “Does she really need to wear that? I mean, it’s fashion, I guess, but still…”

Shows up to all your shows with coffee. He knows your schedule can be brutal, so he always has your favorite drink ready and a warm smile. “Long day, huh? Here, you’ve earned this.”

Accidentally goes viral as your boyfriend. Someone snaps a picture of him holding your bag while you’re doing a fitting, and now he’s trending as “hot model’s mystery man.” Or “Drake Spotted With L/N?”

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Thinks modeling is beneath you. Not because he doesn’t support you, but because he genuinely thinks you’re too good for it. “Tt. Why waste your time parading around in someone else’s designs when you could rule the world instead?”

Still shows up to your shows like a proud dad. He won’t admit it, but he’s ridiculously proud of you. He’ll sit front row, arms crossed, looking annoyed until you walk out. Then his face softens, and he claps (but only once).

Hates everyone in the industry. Photographers, stylists, agents—he side-eyes them all. “Do they have to touch you so much?”

Quietly supportive in his own way. You come home exhausted, and he’s already brewed your favorite tea and laid out your comfiest pajamas. “You should rest. You’ve worked hard enough today.”

Keeps all your clippings. You find a scrapbook in his study filled with your covers, tear sheets, and event photos. When you ask him about it, he just mutters, “I didn’t want them getting lost.” And even keeps some fan letters that you keep or lost along the way.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Thinks it’s “adorable.” Bruce can’t help but chuckle whenever you mention your modeling career. “You really enjoy this, don’t you?” But he’s not teasing he genuinely admires how passionate you are.

Surprisingly knowledgeable about fashion. He knows every major designer, can spot couture from a mile away, and will occasionally surprise you by saying things like, “That’s Galliano, isn’t it? From the ‘06 collection?”

Makes every event feel like a power couple moment. When you walk a red carpet together, it’s like the world collectively gasps. He keeps his hand on your back, whispers sweet nothings, and makes sure you’re the center of attention.

Defends your career to anyone who dares question it. Someone makes a snide remark about modeling being “shallow,” and Bruce immediately shuts them down with, “Actually, it’s an incredibly demanding profession that requires both discipline and skill. You should try it sometime.”

Buys your agency. You’re stressed about a bad contract or a difficult agent? Suddenly, Wayne Enterprises owns the company, and Bruce is like, “Problem solved. You can thank me later.”

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ofstarsandvibranium · 4 months ago

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Coffee Crossfire: Part 2

Fandom: Marvel (Mob Boss AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: You own a cafe in Brooklyn, Bucky Barnes’ territory. You occasionally let him hold meetings in the cafe after hours and things usually go well….but not this time.

Part 1

Your anger and frustration towards Bucky fizzled out after two days. You knew that it really wasn't his fault the cafe got shot up. He told you firsthand when you bought the property of the risks of having a business in his territory. But he always reassured you that whatever damage happens, he'd take care of it.

Like a true mob boss, he kept his word.

Even with his busy schedule, he came in every day to help oversee the work that was being done. He wasn't much help though. You'd tell his men what to do, what goes where, how things should look, etc. He just pays for everything.

However, when some of the new tables and chairs came in, you put Bucky to work.

While everyone was working in the front, you and Bucky assembled the furniture towards the back of the cafe. Bucky looked at the instructions and let out a breath of relief, "Thank god these have written out instructions. Not like other instructions where it's all pictures. Shit gets confusing."

You snicker as you lay out the pieces by their labelled sticker, "Honestly, these shouldn't be too hard to do. They're similar to the ones I had before."

"Ready when you are, boss," Bucky says with a smile.

You snort, "Never thought I'd hear you call anyone else 'boss'."

He shrugs, "You're the only one I'll listen to, sugar," he gives you a wink and you look away as your cheeks start to heat up.

You can't deny that Bucky is attractive, funny, and charming. He's also sweet and intimidating, but also caring. Sure what he does isn't lawful in any means, however, he cares for everyone in his family's territory. He knows everyone by name, helps them when they ask, and make sure everyone's protected and safe.

You told yourself when you first met him not get close to him, but years later, you know you're more than close to Bucky. You two are attached to the hip. At first, you considered him as a friend, but in the most recent years, you've started to see him as more. That scares you a little.

You moved to Brooklyn to get away from those feelings and here you are, right back to where you were. All because of Bucky Barnes.

You love him. You know you truly do, you're just not sure if he feels the same. Sure he flirts with you, but he doesn't mean it. You've seen him flirt with a bunch of other people too, so it definitely doesn't mean anything when he flirts with you.

"Sugar, gimme a hand?" he breaks you from your thoughts.

"Sure," you move closer to him, "What do you need?"

"Just hold these two pieces together while I screw this in."

"M'kay," you hold to pieces of a chair together, and Bucky twists the screwdriver to secure them in place. Your face is close to his, you smell the coffee on his breath and his expensive cologne. You see the bags under his eyes and it makes you frown.

"There. Than-what's with the frown?"

"You haven't been sleeping well," when he looks at you confused, you point to his face, "the bags under your eyes. Bucky, you should be at home resting, not spending early mornings with me here."

"It's fine, sugar."

"No, it's not. You should be well rested because you have a lot of work to do-"

"And they're getting done, just not all by me. Things are getting handled, Y/N, don't worry. I wanna be here."

"Why? Nothing much for you to do here. Your guys have it covered."

He shrugs, "Just in case you need me or," he gestures to the furniture pieces, "need someone to help you build furniture." He smiles when you giggle. His heart flutters, "I'll be here every day until you tell me to fuck off."

"But why?" you genuinely ask him in curiosity.

He looks away from you and at the half-assembled chair in front of him, "Because I do what I can for the people I love." He then clears his throat and goes back to assembling the chair.

You stare at him in disbelief. He loves you. Bucky Barnes just said he loves you. He-

Bucky's phone starts ringing and he answers it. He hugs it between his ear and his shoulder as he screws in another piece of the chair, "Yeah?" He listens to the caller and lets out a long sigh, "Alright. I'll be over in a bit. Keep 'em awake. Bye."

You look at him with concern, "Everything okay?"

"Got more info on the guys who shot us up. Need to meet with Romanoff." Bucky grunts as he stands, pocketing his phone. His runs a hand through his brunette locks, "If you're still here when I'm done, I'll come back. Maybe I can get you some food since I know you don't eat when you get too busy."

You stand, meeting his gaze, a soft smile on your lips. Bucky knows you so well and you can't believe its taken you this long to see how he truly feels.

"Bucky?"

"Yeah?"

You lean in, pressing your lips to his in a gentle kiss. He's frozen in place and by the time he registers what's happening, you pull away, "I love you. Thank you for always taking care of me and being there for me."

"I, uh-" his face starts turning pink, "Ye-Yeah. Of course, sugar. I-shit." He hides his face in his hands and you can't help but laugh. You've turned The White Wolf of Brooklyn into blubbering, blushing mess.

He drops his hands from his face and he's smiling wide, "You love me? Really?"

"I do. I've loved you for a long time. I-I always hoped you felt the same. I thought you did with the flirting and how you were always there for me. But I'd see you do the same with others so I figured-"

He shakes his head, "No, sugar. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I was so confusing. I-shit, Y/N, everything I do and say is because I love you. I love you so fucking much. I'd burn the world for you," he steps closer, placing his hands on your hips, nose grazing yours.

"For a big scary mobster, you're quite the softie, aren't you?"

"Don't let the guys know. It'd ruin my reputation," he murmurs, leaning in for another kiss.

"It's fine. We already know," Steve says as he stands there with his arms across his chest and a smirk on his face.

Bucky frowns, "Way to ruin the mood, Rogers."

Steve shrugs, "Sorry, but we have some important stuff to attend to."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Bucky steps away with a pout, "Sugar-"

You pull him back in for a kiss and he's quick to kiss you back this time. You then break the kiss with a grin, "Go take care of business, boss."

Bucky is a little dizzy and has a goofy grin on his face, "You got it, boss." He pecks your lips one last time and then steps away, "Got another reason to call you sugar now."

"Yeah?"

He nods, "'Cause your lips taste so sweet," he says with a wink and follows Steve out of the cafe.

You're not sure how you can get back to work after that kiss and confession. But you'll have to do your best!

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #mob boss au #marvel au

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logansdoll · 6 months ago

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I have so many ideas but I'm not a talented writer so here's one

-your logans wife pre striker you get taken by striker after logan gets shot as a way to kinda get back at him. Logan always had visions of a woman that he doesn't remember glimpses of domestic bliss. When striker attacks (in x2) striker name drops or says smth like "your wife has been waiting" as a way to antagonize logan.

Also, a cute detail to add if a fic takes place before he loses his memory would be the reader to call him james

I really love how your reader in has a plant mutation. Everything you write is just so good

I hope I wasn't to detailed feel free to take bits and pieces.

contingency

running through the base at Alkali Lake, Logan stumbles across a top secret room... only to find his whole entire world inside.

CW: suggestive, profanity, takes place during X2, has some elements from X-Men Origins: Wolverine, reader has been through some shit, Logan is so relieved, you don't really need to squint to see the angst, i'm iffy on how this turned out, etc.

'Think, dammit! What the hell was he talking about?'

With a roar of frustration, Logan unsheathed his claws, sprinting around the bend and slicing right through the stomach of a nearby soldier, waiting until the man fell with a disgusting plop before continuing on his way.

Why couldn't he just remember?

He knew that, for whatever reason, his memories had been tampered with, and that he couldn't recall anything about his life before the claws.

But ever since his run-in with Stryker back at the mansion, he couldn't help but feel like he was forgetting something especially important.

Something crucial.

"Wolverine..." Stryker grinned, eyes widening stepping forward out of the shadows. "I must admit, you are the last person I'd expect to find here."

Logan's claws revealed themselves with their signature shink, his brows furrowing as he warily stalked closer.

"How long has it been? Fifteen years?"

Stryker let out a small chuckle, but Logan was having a hard time finding what was so funny.

In fact, he was having a hard time with everything about this man—confused as to why he seemed so familiar.

"(y/n) says hello," Stryker goaded, adjusting his glasses. "Or, at least... I believe she would... If I'm being honest, she's feeling a little under the weather at the moment."

A sadistic smirk settled on his lips, his eyes glinting with sick satisfaction.

"But then again... there's seldom a time where she isn't feeling under the weather these days..."

"DAMMIT!" Logan barked, slamming his fist into a wall.

Not knowing was tearing him apart.

Who was (y/n)?

What were you to him?

And how the hell did he end up on the complete opposite side of the compound?

All questions that he furiously wanted to be answered.

Though, somehow—through his fit of blind frustration—he managed to stumble across a door, which had printed in big, bold, yellow letters:

CAUTION: KEEP OUT. HYDROSTASIS IN PROCESS.

"Hydrostasis?" Logan cocked a brow.

He didn't know why, but whatever was housed inside seemed to be pulling him in, silently urging him to open the door and investigate.

'Fuck it.'

Using one claw, he stabbed the retina scanner, the thick lock clicking with a satisfying beep.

He pushed past the door with ease, entering a seemingly large, dark, and oddly cold room, a lamp on one of the workbenches the only thing illuminating the space.

Cautiously, he approached it, sniffing and snapping his head around to make sure he was alone.

Yet he knew he wasn't.

He'd caught whiff of a faint scent emanating from somewhere further into the room, but it was so familiar, it seemed almost instinct to pay it no mind.

For some reason, he knew it wasn't hostile—and if anything, it calmed him, soothing his spiked nerves.

Reaching the table, he found that right next to the lamp laid a file labeled EXPERIMENT 25-8: CLASSIFIED.

He snatched it up with lightening speed, quickly skimming over the latest entry.

EXPERIMENT 25-8 a.k.a Weapon X Contingency

Name: (y/n) (l/n) Age: Unknown Sex: Female Height: X" X Weight: X Rank: Class 5 Report: 25-8 reviles authority. But her connection to Weapon X and general strength makes her a perfect candidate for Project Contingency. Her mutation and overall will to live have rejected all known forms of mind control. Will be kept in hydrostasis until new methods found. Conclusion: Further research required. Could possibly be the only creature known to man that can stop the Wolverine besides the Wolverine himself.

"(y/n)..." Logan tested out the name, confused as to why it sounded so natural.

So home-like.

Looking away from the pages, he glanced down at the table, catching sight of a large switch not too far away.

Without hesitation, he flicked it, the lights in the room suddenly cutting on, along with the lights to your chamber.

And there you were right before him—unconscious and floating in vibrant blue water.

Looking upon you, it felt like he was suddenly hit by a freight train, years of love, care, and warmth flooding his mind.

"James!" you squealed, unable to dim your smile as he hoisted you over his shoulder. "Put me down!"

"Not a chance," he smirked, carrying you toward your shared bedroom. "You know what you did..."

"No..."

"C'mere. I need a taste tester," you smiled, cupping your hand under your fork as you held up a chunk of steak.

He grinned, placing down his newspaper and taking a bite, groaning at the good taste as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

"Well?" you asked, nervous.

"Baby..." he paused for dramatic effect, wanting to see you squirm. "This is the best damn steak I've ever eaten."

"You ass!" you scoffed, playfully slapping him in the shoulder as he laughed, rocking you back and forth.

"I can't..."

"I love you, y'know that?" he asked, holding you close as you both relaxed in the bathtub. "I feel like I don't tell ya enough."

"You tell me every day, baby," you smiled, looking up at him as you rested your back against his chest.

"Well, then," he smirked, his hand rising from the water, holding a beautiful diamond engagement ring. "You alright with me tellin' ya a little bit more?"

Your eyes went as wide as saucers, and you gasped so loud the neighbors (which were three miles away) would certainly hear.

"YES!" you squealed, scrambling to turn around and give him a kiss, the water sloshing around violently.

"Careful, hon! You're gonna knock me out the tub!" he chuckled, steadying you as your lips began peppering kisses all over his face.

"She can't..."

"James," you started, timidly, tracing mindless shapes in his chest as you both laid in bed. "That man you told me about... Stryker... he came by the house today."

Logan tensed at the name, his grip around you tightening.

"He didn't do anything, did he?" he asked, tone rising.

"No," you shook your head. "But he asked for you. Said it was important that you come and talk to him."

He sighed, taking your hand in his, smoothing his thumb over your knuckles.

"I'll go over tomorrow. Straighten everything out," he assured.

"I don't think you should," you quickly denied, nervous. "This man... I don't trust him... He gives me a bad feeling, y'know?"

He cracked a small smile, placing a tender kiss on your forehead.

"I promise you, he can't do nothin' to me that hasn't already been done."

"RAAAAH!" Logan roared, blindly slashing at the table and all nearby equipment.

How could he have ever forgotten you?

Fury consumed his being in every sense of the word, the anger swelling inside him in a way he had never felt before.

Sparks flew as Logan destroyed any and everything in his path, teetering on the edge between rage and regret.

He could remember so clearly now.

You were his world—his reason for drawing breath, his reason for existing.

No matter how bad things got—angry, frustrating, or lonely—you were there.

You were his escape, his safety, his peace.

Comparing his life from before to the current, he couldn't fathom how he'd survived so long without being in your presence.

Through his slicing, he managed to cut something important, a loud warning siren blaring before all the water began draining from your pod, rapidly pouring onto the floor.

With a loud hiss, the door opened, sending you falling out the chamber.

Logan rushed over faster than he'd ever done anything, catching you in his arms and cradling you bridal style.

He looked upon you as if you were a ghost, a figment of his imagination.

After years and years of separation, he was finally allowed a chance to see your face, now able to recall all its fine details with perfect accuracy.

The softness of your cheeks.

The kindness of your eyes.

The plumpness of your lips.

Suddenly, you let out a loud cough, spitting up some water as your eyes snapped open, frantically looking around.

Logan couldn't find the words.

The love of his life was sitting in his arms and after fifteen years... and he had no idea what to say to her.

"James?" you asked, weakly, disbelieving of the sight before you.

That's right!

James!

His name was James!

"Yeah, baby..." he nodded, bitter-sweetly, getting a bit choked up. "It's me—"

You threw your arms around his neck without a second thought, pulling him into a bone crushing hug as tears began pouring down your cheeks, your shoulders shaking with cries of relief.

"I thought you weren't coming!" you sobbed.

Your throat felt swollen as you stuttered, scrambling to say all the things you've been wanting to for so long.

"Oh, God, I love you, Jimmy! I love you so much! Please don't leave me again!"

"I'm so sorry, baby! I'm so, so sorry!" he sputtered, his hand finding home in your hair as he rocked you back and forth, stray tears escaping his eyes. "I shoulda been here! I shoulda protected you!"

He buried his face in your hair, peppering the side of your head with kisses.

"I love you so much, honey... I'm right here. I'm not goin' anywhere."

Suddenly, you went limp in his arms, panic and fear spiking up his spine.

"(n/n)?!" he pulled back, frantically scanning over you to see what was wrong."(y/n)?!"

Quickly, he pressed his ear against your chest, thanking whatever god in heaven that your heart was beating.

'It might be a side effect of the chamber... or maybe she's tired...'

Without warning, the entire compound began to shake, a familiar blue devil popping up next to him out of nowhere.

"Zere you are!" Kurt exclaimed, quickly grabbing onto his friend. "Vee must go! Zee place is goink to flood!"

In an instant, the three were back with the others, the mysterious woman in Logan's arms posing a question to everyone.

"Logan?" Ororo raised a brow, confused, as they began running toward the exit.

"Who the hell is that?" Scott asked, much blunter than Storm intended.

Logan looked down at your peacefully sleeping face, brushing a stray strand of hair out your face.

"She's my wife..."

bonus !!

"SHE'S YOUR WHAT?"

#james howlett #james howlett x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #mcu #mcu x reader #wolverine x reader #x men #x men x reader #wolverine

1K notes · View notes

chunghasweetie · 8 months ago

Text

𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐔𝐏 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 | J.JK

— pairing | fem!oc x gangsta!jjk

— summary | gangsta jk wants to crash at her place but she got a lil some up her sleeve

— warning | bad writing (i’m doing my best)

cussing, angst, smut, unprotected sex, illegal activities, gun play, mention of head, oc gets fucked with a gun, whining, cum eating, dirty talk.

— word count | 3.9k words

— song suggestion | gangsta (orchestra ver) —kehlani

It was the same thing everyday.

Work, go home, sleep.

Nothing ever changed and it had been like that for way too long.

She needed to switch things up somehow but she didn’t even have the energy to think of what could solve her issues.

Until he came along.

The two met at the liquor store randomly at around 2am. They reached for the same bottle, chuckling at the similar intention.

She immediately caught his eye. Which was surprising to her since she was in her pajamas with messy hair and no makeup.

He asked for her number and they had little meetups here and there.

He was so secretive and mysterious about what he was doing. Not in a gross, womanizer way. In a way that made her want to learn more about him.

He was ‘Jeon’ in her phone. She didn’t even have his full name.

He was inked up in tattoos. Tall and definitely bulky with muscle all over him. He was crafted beautifully.

He had a nice car. She noticed the extremely dark tint and possibly illegal modifications applied to the vehicle.

She had no clue what kind of job he worked or what he did in his day to day life.

Until one day he finally told her. He was the Jeon Jungkook that had been on the run for multiple crimes and ran a large gang in the city.

And she’d been fucking him the entire time.

He knew from the start she wouldn’t turn him in. He had her wrapped around her finger.

He knew all about her dilemma. How she needed that change in her life.

He was more than willing to provide that escape.

She craved something new, and he was just the man to give it to her.

“Let me come over baby.” He spoke on the other line. “Miss you.”

She was on her couch, biting her lip.

She knew he was not a good man at all. She knew that from the beginning. For years she promised herself she’d never be associated with any one of the sort.

Always following the rules got so boring.

“Don’t be like that.” Jungkook hummed. “I just wanna see you. You don’t want to see me Y/n?”

His voice was so dominant and demanding. He was strict and for right to it.

He somehow was able to have his own phone number that was untraceable by the police.

He was crazy good at avoiding getting caught.

“Okay.” Y/n gave in.

“Mm knew you’d be smart about this.” Jungkook chuckled to her, hanging up and getting in his car to head to her apartment.

She tilted her head back on her couch, sighing.

She didn’t think it would come to this. She thought things like this only happened in stories or in the movies.

This was the last thing she was thinking about. She couldn’t help herself though.

How could she? Jungkook may have been a criminal but he was so hot.

His voice was like a pied piper.

She was so drawn to him. His looks, his charisma, his body, everything.

She wouldn’t call it love. She couldn’t call it love. It was mere attraction and that’s all she labeled it as.

She always thought he looked like he was straight out of a TV show. Although he was rough around the edges, he was super sweet and caring considering what his lifestyle was like.

“Open up mama! Cold as fuck out here!” He yelled out, snapping her out of her thoughts.

Jungkook was at her apartment door, dressed in his white tank and tan cargo pants. His tank emphasized his muscular, tattooed arms so well.

He had a bouquet of roses in his hand, waiting for his girl to answer the door.

He was always doing such romantic gestures for her. There would be nights he wouldn’t want to do anything sexual. Simply coming over to spend time with her.

Once Y/n opened the door, he couldn’t help but curve his lips into a smile.

“Well look at you.” His eyes moved from the bottom to the top of her body. “Gorgeous.” He stepped in, immediately wrapping his arms around her once she shut the door.

She took a silent inhale. He smelt so damn good.

Maybe it was something in the cologne he was wearing that made her so attached to him. His scent instantly sent her into a trance.

“Hey.” Y/n replied. “Was just about to make dinner.”

“You were?” He mumbled against her neck. “Make me something baby.”

She nodded, agreeing. “You’re gonna have to let go of me.”

“Ugh fine.” He groaned. “Spending the night again. Cops looking for me alllll over.”

He knew they’d never find him, but the excuse always worked.

“That’s fine.” She nodded.

She did get anxious when he’d say things like that.

He was a fugitive and she was keeping him in her home.

Jungkook went up to her room, getting comfy in the clothes he already had over there.

She had started cooking for the both of them, making some chicken and rice dish she seen online.

As Y/n focused on her cooking, Jungkook was leaning back on the counter, simply staring at her.

“I like this.”

“You like what?” She blinked.

“Seeing you all domestic and shit.” He chuckled.

“I’m just cooking dinner.” She smiled.

“Mm it’s more than that.” He chuckled. “Making me a nice meal, having clean clothes for me, gonna tuck me into bed later. Love when we play house like this Y/n.”

She blushed. “I guess it is nice.”

“Food smells good.” Jungkook inhaled. “You smell better.” He wrapped his arms around her waist.

“I’m wearing that perfume you bought me last week.” She told him as she was making his plate.

“Oh really? It smells even better than it did in the store.” He hummed against her neck. “You’re wearing the jewelry I bought you too.”

“Of course. Never taking it off.” She chuckled.

“Good. If I’m iced out my girl gotta be too.” He planted a kiss on her neck.

“Well it’s very nice to be spoiled like this.” She giggled, handing him his plate. “Now go eat while it’s hot.”

He removed his body from hers, taking a seat at the table.

“Taste test it baby.” She told him, “I’ll start eating in a minute.”

He nodded, trying the food.

“How is it? Good?”

"Good's an understatement. Shit's fucking amazing, baby." He takes another bite and watches her.

“Yay! Happy you like it.” Y/n replied from the kitchen, trying to clean up some of her mess.

"You ain't made yourself a plate yet? Come here and sit." He looked over at her.

“Okay okay.” She nodded, getting a beer from the fridge for him. She made herself a plate finally and sat down at the table.

He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest after she set the beer down in front of him. "Ain't no one else gonna take care of me like this. I’m lucky to have you.”

“You are.” She laughed. “Doubt any of those other girls know how to care of you.”

“What other girls?” He rose his eyebrow. “Jealous of the girls I’m around?”

“How could I not be?” She questioned. “I just don’t understand.”

He smirks as he picks up the beer and takes a long swig, his throat moving as he swallows.

“Don’t understand what?”

“Why you stick around me.” She spoke. “There’s girls who do the same shit you do. You and your boys go out and there’s strippers and bottle girls. I’m a regular ass person.”

He frowned at her, looking honestly confused. "What the fuck you talking about mama?" He asked as he leaned back in his chair and shook his head.

"I chose you because of you. Fuck all these other bitches. You're the only one who can handle my shit." He said honestly.

“That can’t just be it.” She shook her head.

“So what? You think I’m just in it for a good fuck?”

“That’s not— exactly it.” She sighed.

She could tell he’s growing a bit irritated but it was bugging her.

She knew guys hated that sappy shit. But she couldn’t help that she was getting her emotions get in the way.

He leaned back again, crossing his arms over his chest. He stared at her from across the table before speaking.

"Then fucking tell me, Y/n. What is it?" He asked, his voice growing softer but still holding onto that edge of annoyance.

“Forget it. Nevermind.” She sighed, finishing her food and taking her plate to the sink to wash it.

He watched her finish her food and take the plate to the sink. "You can't start a conversation like that and then drop it, babe." He said.

He began walking up behind her as she washed the plate. "You wanna know why I'm with you?

“I just want to know what we’re doing here. You’ve been coming over for months now and you’re doing all these romantic things for me and I just want to know what’s up.” She spoke honestly.

He stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist gently, resting his chin on her shoulder. "I like you here, like this. I like showing you a good time, you know?" He turned her around in his arms and gazed down at her.

“What does that even mean” She mumbled as she washed plates.

He lifted a hand to her cheek, thumb brushing against it gently. "It means I like being with you, mama. It feels...right.”

He leaned in closer to her, eyes searching hers. "I like spoiling you, taking care of you. Feels different than anyone before..."

As much as she wanted to pester him more about the subject, she didn’t say anything else.

He seemed to notice the hesitance and smiled softly, ducking his head to press a soft kiss against her lips. "You don't gotta overthink it, Y/n. It's just...good, okay? You know I love you.”

She finished up the dishes, putting them away to dry.

He watched her for a moment, before moving to her side and starting to help her with cleaning.

His hand brushed against yours, sending a shiver down her spine.

"Y/n, it's okay. I promise you." He whispered, leaning in to press another kiss against her temple. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” She thanked him. Her lips curved into a smile. “I mean it is cute to see this buff tattooed bad guy get all sappy and shit for me for me.”

He chuckled and shook his head, his eyes crinkling up with amusement. "You better not tell anyone" He threatened, his voice dropping lower as he spoke. "You love it though...”

“I guess I do.”

He laughed softly and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "I know you do." He whispered, his arms tightening around her as he let out a content sigh. "You're the only one who gets to see this side of me.”

“I’ll consider myself lucky then.” She laughed. “I was successfully able to tame the beast.”

He chuckled lightly and pressed a kiss to her neck, holding his arms tighter around her.

"You did more than tame the beast, baby...you own me completely. Shit, you could put a leash and collar on my ass anytime." He whispered hotly against her neck, his lips ghosting over her skin as he spoke.

She couldn’t help but laugh at his joke.

“I could keep you laughing and satisfied all day, if you'll just let me." He mumbled.

“Oh I’d let you anyyyy day of the week.” She laughed. “See what you’ve done to me?”

“I haven’t done shit baby that was all you.” He chuckled.

“Whatever.”

"Yeah, yeah, yeah whatever you say, baby." He picked her up effortlessly, “Let’s go upstairs hm?”

“Thought you’d never ask.” She agreed, allowing him to take her.

He chuckled, lifting her over his shoulder and carrying her upstairs as he kissed her thighs and gave your ass a playful squeeze. "Look at you...so fucking fine. You know I can't resist."

“Oh my gosh Jungkook.” She blushed as they got inside her room.

"That's right, babe. I got you...right where I want you." He tossed her onto the bed before crawling up to her body, kissing and nibbling at her neck. "If only these walls could talk..."

“Jungkook!” She hid her face in embarrassment, getting flashbacks of all the different things they had done in her room.

"Oh come on, don't hide from me now, Y/n." He kissed her cheek as he caressed her face.

"Do you remember the first time we fucked in this room?" Jungkook smirked and laughed. "You were begging for my cock, mama.”

“That’s not what happened!” She instantly denied.

Jungkook laughed harder, his eyes shining mischievously.

"Oh yes, you were mama don’t play! And when you finally got it you were screaming your lungs out. Kept going on and on about how it was the best sex you’ve ever had…” He continued, not giving her the chance to speak.

“This is so humiliating.” She groaned, hiding her face in embarrassment by flipping the blanket over her face.

Jungkook tugged the blanket down a little, showing her face again. "Don't be shy, Y/n. I fucking loved it when I made you scream my name. And made you cum on the first try?" He crawled on top of her again, his knees on either side of her hips.

“You’re so annoying.”

Jungkook chuckled. "That's not what you were saying when I had my cock in your mouth, babe."

His eyes glinted with amusement as he leaned down to kiss her. "I can make you forget all about your embarrassment again, if you want?"

“How’re you going to do that?” She asked, playing dumb.

Jungkook kissed her slowly, running his tongue along the edge of her lips.

He reached down between her legs and began rubbing, his touch firm and confident. "Do I need to give you a reminder right now?"

He immediately earned a soft moan from her, making him to smirk to himself.

Jungkook smiled mischievously, his fingers never leaving that soft spot between her thighs.

"That's a good girl. Just like that." He began driving his fingers in rhythm with his tongue, letting out a moan of his own. "Is this better, Y/n?”

“Mhm!” She moaned, nodding her head quickly.

Jungkook chuckled against her lips, picking up the pace at her small moan.

"You're fucking soaked, you know that, right mama?" His voice was low, amused. "Looks like I can still make you wet."

She could feel his gun pressed against her from his waistband. It drove her fucking insane with lust.

Jungkook felt her press closer, rubbing against his gun. He smirked at her before moving his hand, placing the gun in plain sight for her.

"See something you like, babe?" He said with a chuckle, twirling it around his finger.

“I-I feel it.” She croaked. She had always been curious about his gun in ways she never thought she was the type to fantasize about.

Jungkook grinned, setting it down gently. "Wanna touch it, babe?" His voice was low and inviting.

He took a step back, giving her room to move. "Just be careful, though. It's loaded." He teased.

She nodded quietly, “I do.”

Jungkook watched her grab the gun, letting you get a feel for its weight. He didn't interrupt, just watch her curiously.

"You like?" He asked with a smirk. "Don't tell me you have some kind of fetish for guns."

“I- um.” She swallowed, “Something like that? Well I’ve never done anything but— I’ve been curious.” She handed his gun back to him.

Jungkook took the gun carefully, his smirk growing into a full-on grin. "I knew it."

He whispered seductively. "Why don't we test out that curiosity of yours?" He suggested with a raise of his eyebrow.

“How?”

Jungkook pulled her a little bit closer, his free hand wandering up her side before resting on the edge of her waist.

"Do you want me to fuck you with it? How does that sound?" He smirked, unloading the gun in front of her. He places the gullets on her nightstand.

She nodded, letting a quiet ‘please’ slip from her lips.

Jungkook let out a low growl at her response, his grip on the gun tightening.

"You like that idea, Y/n?" He asked. His free hand wandered to the hem of her shirt, slowly lifting it upwards. "Lay back."

She didn’t hesitate to do so, laying back.

Jungkook bit his lip seductively as he looked down at her, the gun clicking gently in his fingers. "Fuck, yes." He said admiringly.

He bit his lip, placing the gun down in a position of reach before trailing his fingers lower and low on her stomach.

Her pussy was sopping wet with need. Her core aching as she watched the now unloaded gun in his hand.

Jungkook watched her with a lustful gaze as he heard her words, biting his lip again before placing the gun on her lip.

"You're so fucking wet for me already, huh? Mama so ready to get fucked with my gun huh baby?" He asked.

“So pretty Y/n.” His hand sliding lower still until he could feel her wetness. “Get the gun all nice and wet for me baby.”

She kept her gaze on him, spitting and sucking on the muzzle the gun like she was told to.

Jungkook groaned at the sight, glancing down at her almost hungrily. "Fucking hell you're such a hungry little girl, y'know that?"

Jungkook couldn't resist her whiny plea any longer, as he pulled the gun out of her mouth.

He lined the gun muzzle up with her entrance. He slowly slid the gun inside of her, gasping at the sight.

A gasp and an ‘oh fuck’ left her lips. Once adjusted, she instantly melted into the feeling, a moan leaving her lips.

It felt better than how she ever could’ve imagined it to be.

Jungkook groaned at her reaction, watching as he slowly slid the gun in and out of her.

"Fuck Y/n you're loving this aren't you? You're such a slut for my gun and I just now put it in you.” He chuckled.

“J-Jungkook” She moaned out his name, biting her lip. “Fuck that feels good.”

With her voice echoing his name, Jungkook lost control of his actions.

He began thrusting the gun in and out of her faster, even pulling her legs over his shoulders.

"Shit you like watching me fuck your pussy with my gun huh?” He spoke to her. “Been practically humping me for weeks. All that to get to my gun huh baby?”

It was so true.

Whenever they made out she would get super close and grind herself on the imprint of his gun. She almost could cum off just rubbing against it.

“Oh fuck yes!” She whined, “Jungkook I fucking love this.”

Jungkook loved her weak voice. Watching her squirm only made him plunge the gun faster.

"Looking so good taking it in. I wanna fuck you all day like this." He whispered seductively in her ear, sucking on her bottom lip.

Her wetness coated the gun, “F-Fuck oh my gosh” She whimpered. “A-All this time I— Fuck” She could hardly talk.

With the gun still inside of her, Jungkook grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him.

"All this time you wanted my gun? Every day I'd bend you over and plow you right... fucking... here..." He grunted. “But this gun was all you really wanted hm?”

“Mmm I— just wanted it so bad jungkook you don’t understand.” She quivered her lip.

A smirk appeared on his face as he began to thrust the gun harder and deeper inside her.

"I understand now baby. I know how badly you wanted it." He growled, grabbing her hips with both hands.

Jungkook smirked, thrusting the gun even harder, making her whimper. "You're such a dirty little slut for me. That's right baby, tell me how much you need my gun to get off.”

“Jungkook please— Feels so fucking good. Never had anything like this. Mm— such a slut.” She was rambling.

The way the gun was penetrating her made her whine with pleasure as it stretched her in the best way possible.

“Came so— so many times. Just from the thought.” She kept going. “Fuck— I was changing the sheets every damn hour”

His cocky grin widened as he pressed the gun deeper, his other hand traveling down to her soaked pussy.

He teased her clit with his fingers, "That's my girl. I want you soaked for me every damn hour.”

“Fuck— You’re killing me.” The double stimulation overwhelmed her.

"Is that too much for you baby? Can't handle it?" He chuckled, thrusting the gun harder, before pressing his fingers deeper, curling them to hit her g-spot.

She gasped again, gripping onto the sheets. “I-I can just— Shit it’s too fucking good” She cursed, grabbing onto her breast with her other hand.

"You love it, don't you baby? When I take control like this." He leaned down, pressing his lips against her ear. "I own every inch of you, and you fucking know it. Whether it’s my cock or my gun.”

She was milking his gun with her juices, whimpering and whining. The gun was fucking her absolutely stupid.

“D-Don’t think I can take any more.” She managed to get out, “W-Wanna cum on the gun”

Jungkook laughed, shaking his head as he continued to thrust the gun into her, pulling the trigger back twice.

The empty clicks filling the room, while he got to touch her throbbing pussy. "You want to cum, huh mama?”

“Jungkook please” She begged him to cum. The sounds of the empty clicks driving her insane.

“You're crazy mama. Absolutely insane." He groaned.

He pulled the trigger back one last time, hearing the empty click after he was spent.

“Jungkook please! I want to cum so bad!” tears of pleasure ran down her cheeks.

"You're more desperate than I thought." Jungkook grabbed her hair, pulling hard as his other hand began rubbing your needy little clit hard.

"Cum on the gun Y/n."

She didn’t waste a second, letting her juices flow and drop down the gun barrel.

He felt his cock twitch at her screams as she came, splashing hot cum all over his hand and the gun.

"Good fucking girl. Now clean this shit up.” He aimed the muzzle of the gun facing her mouth.

“W-What? You want me to clean it?”

“That's what I said." He replied with a snarl as he began stroking his cock again, dripping wet cum from the tip of it.

She obeyed him, sucking and licking her cum off of the gun. She dragged her tongue all over the barrel, looking into his eyes as she did so.

His hands gripped the gun tightly as he watched her sucking and licking her cum off. It was perverted as hell, but his cock was twitching again.

His eyes darkened, and he felt his cock twitch at her words, the sight of her on her knees with his cum mixing with hers.

"I know.." He purred as he pulled the gun away from your her. "Now come here. I got something else for you to suck.”

1K notes · View notes

rafesdollette · 1 month ago

Text

NEW NEIGHBOR: BOY NEXT DOOR SERIES (1)

PAIRING: NEIGHBOR!RAFE X LUX!BABYDOLL!READER

SUMMARY It's your first day in obx and your neighbor isn't exactly what you expected.

GENRE: Fluff!

WORD COUNT 1,138

a/n: EEE first series I'm so excited!! This whole concept has been in the making before I even started this account so I'm so glad I'm finally making it happen. by the way, I don't care about this being a lil cliche cause I write for me and my enjoyment so if you don't like it, don't take the time out of your day to make a comment about it. SCROLL

Setting your last box down that's labeled 'kitchen', you glance out of your window, seeing a truck drive past your house and park at the one next to you. You were aware someone lived next to you but you weren't exactly sure who since no one was there when you first arrived.

This is your first home away from your family who lives all the way in Virginia and you've lived in that house since you could remember, so you're not sure what to expect of a neighbor.

As the car comes to a stop in the parking lot, you watch as a tall, short haired blonde guy gets out of the truck. His back was turned to you but you could tell by just the way he walked that he was entitled and maybe even a little snobby.

But still, you were a nice person so of course you were still gonna make an effort to talk to him.

So, you make your way over to his lawn as he mutters some sort of sarcastic comment under his breath as he watches you approach.

“Can I help you?” He asks with a bored expression on his face as he takes in the Saxs Fifth Avenue satin dress you were wearing. You definitely had money.

“Yeah, actually. I was just introducing myself. I'm your new neighbor-” He waves a hand, cutting you off before you can even say your name.

“Yeah yeah I know who you are, princess.” Of course he knew who you were already, the island wasn't exactly huge.

“Right. And you are?” You ask, not missing how he called you 'princess' in almost a mocking way. You weren't sure if it infuriated you , turned you on, or both.

He scoffs in disbelief, looking at you in absolute bewilderment. He was goddamn Rafe Cameron. How did you not know that? “Are you serious? What kind of question is that? Everyone knows me.”

You roll your eyes in response. “Well I don't, that's why I asked.”

“Rafe.” He simply answers. He didn't seem to talk a lot.

“Mm, okay.”

Rafe scoffs again, seemingly surprised by your lack of reaction to his name. “So you haven't heard of me?”

“No...I just got here today, remember?”

“Yeah, I got that the first time.”

You weren't sure what pissed you off more, his lack of enthusiasm or his smartass responses to everything.

“And where are you from, anyway?” He asks as his eyes look over you skeptically. “New York?”

“Virginia” you correct with a slight raise of your eyebrow “Why did you guess New York?”

He shrugs. It was either because of the way you dressed or the way you just carried yourself like you were from an expensive part of the city and aspired to be a model or something along those lines. “Just an assumption.”

You weren't exactly sure how to take his 'assumption' since all the people you met from New York were unhinged but either way, you were flattered.

“Need help unpacking or something?” He asks as he glances over at your house. From where he was standing, he could see right into your living room window that was currently filled with boxes.

The question surprised both of you since he knew he normally wouldn't help anyone without something in return, nor would he consider himself polite or 'neighborly', and it seemed you knew that too. But for some reason, he found himself wanting to help you out for whatever reason. Even though you guys barely even had a full conversation yet.

Once you nod and murmur a “Sure”, you lead him inside your house as he takes a good look around. He knew you had money by the way you dressed but he didn't know you were this well off. Your house was almost as nice as his...almost.

“You live alone or...?” he questions as he looks around at all the boxes you have scattered throughout the space.

“Just me” You step over a few boxes before adding “Oh and London”

He was about to ask who the hell 'London' was until he saw a golden retriever puppy with a pink ribbon tied onto each of their ears, padding into the living room where both of you stood.

Not too many people on the island had dogs unless they were for emotional support so he was a bit surprised to find out you had one of your own. He assumed yours wasn't for emotional support since you seemed fine to him, but then again, you can never tell. And he wasn't gonna ask either cause he wasn't that much of an asshole

He hums as he squats down to scratch behind London's ears “How old is she?” He wasn't exactly certain why he was suddenly so invested in your dog considering how much of an asshole he was acting just a few minutes ago, but he wasn't gonna dwell on that so much right now.

“Two months” You respond as you adjust her collar

His eyes move down to London's collar as you adjust it, scoffing quietly once he sees the Dolce & Gabbana logo on it. Of course you'd spend money on something like that. But then again, he was in no place to judge since he spent his money on alcohol and drugs.

When he finally stands up from interacting with London, he looks around the area again before asking “So where exactly do you want me to start?”

You shrug, looking around with pursed lips before answering “I mean, you could take the kitchen if you want.”

Rafe nods before picking up a few of the boxes and disappearing into the kitchen while you head off to start unpacking your room.

After about an hour and a half of both of you unpacking, you finally got your room mostly done and Rafe got all of the dishes put away in the cupboards.

“Need help with anything else?” He asks as he enters your living room where you're sorting out more boxes.

You shake your head “Nah”

He found himself a little disappointed by your answer for some reason. He'd be lying if he said he didn't wanna talk to you more. “You into partying?”

You shrug, not looking up from the boxes as you answer “Kinda. It just depends on the party.”

“Soo would you come to one of mine? They're pretty legendary.” It was true. Everyone always raved about a Rafe Cameron party since they were always the most chaotic and exciting parts of everyone's week.

“I don't think so.”

He rolls his eyes at your response. Normally people would be thrilled if he personally asked you to one of his parties, but you didn't seem at all fazed. You just shot him down without a second thought. “And why not?”

“I'm new to the island. What am I gonna do at a party? It seems pointless.”

He purses his lips, nodding slowly as he tries to come up with some sort of counter argument. “Well what better way to meet new people, right? Plus, you could always just hangout with me and my friends so you're not standing on a wall all night.”

He's not sure why he's so adamant on you going to this party or why he's offering to introduce you to his friends, he barely knows you. He waits for a few seconds before adding a “Please.”

Rafe wasn't one to beg. At all. He never begged for anything ever in his life, nor did he think he ever would. But here he is, begging a girl he just met to go to one of his parties.

“Fine.” You reluctantly agree. You weren't sure what made you say yes but you did. It was probably your own curiosity or the man in front of you. “I'll be there, when is it?”

He grins “Thursday at 9”

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leighbaye · 4 months ago

Text

— TRANCE

written by mina leigh 𝜗᭪ , nate jacobs 𝔁 f! reader | wc 2500

summary. nate realizes he is the luckiest guy ever. fuck maddy, fuck cassie, he was plotting for you. you’re the most perfect girl that he could’ve ever asked for.

labels. y/n is used , she her pronouns used. nate fantasizes about you innocently and quite naughty, hyper feminine reader, pet names used, mentions of obsession, praise, & stalking, VIEWER DISCRETION ADVISED.

‧₊˚ ୨୧ mina speaks. i really recommend reading @annwrites multi - part fic ❝ exactly what he needs ,❞ paired with, yours truly, nate jacobs. as it was inspired by the masterpiece.

nate is in bed, staring blankly at the glow of his phone. it was some mindless scroll through his socials, yet it all felt dull. nothing grabbed his attention the way it used to. not the countless selfies of maddy’s perfectly angled poses, or cassie’s desperate attempts to catch his eye with the glossy smiles she plastered all over the screen.

he let out a breath, locking his phone and placing it face down on the bedside table. his hand trailed absentmindedly toward the blanket, pulling it up a bit to tuck you in, careful not to disturb you.

you were fast asleep beside him, your soft breaths falling into a steady rhythm. nate’s gaze lingered on you longer than it probably should’ve, his eyes tracing the delicate lines of your face. fuck, you were perfect. it was almost criminal how effortlessly beautiful you looked, even now. no makeup, no posing, no pretending. just you.

he leaned his head back into the pillow, the warmth of your presence next to him soothing yet electrifying at the same time. it wasn’t like when he was with maddy or cassie. there wasn’t that constant tension, that need to control, to manipulate. well, maybe a little. but with you, it felt… different. not better, but more intoxicating.

❝ fuck ,❞ nate muttered under his breath, staring up at the ceiling, the faint glow from the moon seeping through the curtains.

he didn’t know how he’d gotten this lucky. not that it was entirely luck. it took planning, scheming. nate wasn’t a man who left things to chance. no, if he wanted something, he took it. he figured out how to make it his, even if it meant crushing a few people along the way.

and you? you were the one thing he hadn’t let slip through his fingers.

the day nate first really noticed you, like really noticed you, something shifted in him. it wasn’t like with cassie, where she was a fleeting obsession, someone he could toy with to get under maddy’s skin. no, you were something else. something more.

it had been a regular day, or at least it was supposed to be. cassie had brushed past him in the hall, giving him a sad, hopeful glance after their situationship had gone up in flames. she didn’t matter anymore, not really. nate had already set his sights elsewhere.

and then, there you were.

you didn’t even notice him at first, just standing there with a few friends, laughing at something dumb, probably something insignificant, but to nate, it was like the world had tilted. your hair caught the light just right, that glossy sheen making him want to reach out, run his fingers through it. and your face —fuck, your face was everything. perfect lips, perfect eyes, the kind of face nate could stare at for hours and never get bored. you had that thing about you, that girl - next - door vibe mixed with something else, something unattainable.

you weren’t loud, weren’t trying to get attention like maddy or cassie always did. you didn’t need to. you had a natural confidence, something soft but undeniable. your style was all femme, skirts and cute tops, nails always done, everything just ... neat. clean. controlled. nate liked that. he loved that.

it was like the universe had handed him exactly what he’d been looking for.

but getting you? that was going to take work. although not that he ever had any difficulty getting what he desired.

nate spent weeks figuring you out. watching. waiting. it wasn’t stalking, not really, he told himself. he was just making sure he knew everything he needed to. where you liked to hang out, who your friends were, what kind of guys caught your eye. every detail mattered.

he’d show up where you’d be, casually at first, nothing too obvious. he made sure to talk to the right people, make himself seem approachable, even charming, though that part came naturally. girls liked nate. it wasn’t hard to use that to his advantage.

he noticed how your eyes would flick toward him sometimes, just a quick glance before you looked away, trying not to let it linger. it was subtle, but nate knew what it meant. you were interested. maybe you didn’t realize it yet, but you were. and he was going to make sure you realized it soon enough.

a few weeks in, he made his move. a simple conversation, nothing too forward. just enough to get you thinking. he complimented your shoes, your nails, shit like that. small things, things other guys wouldn’t notice but nate did. he saw everything about you.

he could tell you liked the attention. your smile was shy, a little flustered even, and that’s how he knew he had you. it was only a matter of time now.

the days passed, and nate played his cards perfectly. you’d started to trust him, let your guard down around him. you laughed at his jokes, blushed when he teased you, and nate reveled in it. every little thing you did only made him want you more.

he liked how soft you were. how feminine. it wasn’t just your looks, though those were enough to drive him crazy on their own. it was the way you carried yourself, the way you made him feel needed, wanted, like he was the only guy who could make you happy.

he’d make sure you never wanted anyone else.

nate was careful, though. he didn’t rush things. he let the tension build, let you get used to the idea of him being around. he didn’t want to scare you off, not like he’d done with cassie. this time, it had to be perfect.

and it worked.

the night he finally confessed, nate couldn’t hold back anymore. it had been driving him insane, keeping it all bottled up, the way he felt about you. it wasn’t just lust, though that was a big part of it. it was deeper than that, more intense. he wanted you in every way, needed you.

he cornered you after a party, pulling you aside when no one was looking. your eyes widened in surprise, but there was a hint of excitement there too. nate could see it.

❝ i can’t keep pretending, y/n, ❞ he started, his voice low, controlled. ❝ i’ve been thinking about you, about us. for weeks. ❞

you blinked, a soft flush spreading across your cheeks. ❝ nate ... ❞

❝ no, let me finish, ❞ he interrupted, stepping closer, his body just inches from yours. ❝ you’re perfect. everything about you. i can’t stop thinking about you, wanting you. ❞ his hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, and he smirked when you shivered at his touch. ❝ you deserve someone who sees that. who sees you. ❞

you stared up at him, your breathing shallow, and nate knew he had you right where he wanted.

❝ i hope you understand what i am getting at, i’m that guy, y/n, ❞ he murmured, leaning in, his lips just barely brushing your ear. ❝ i’m the guy who’s going to make sure you’re happy. no one else. ❞

your eyes sparkled, a mix of excitement and disbelief.

❝ nate... i didn’t know you felt that way, ❞ you whispered, biting your lip. ❝ i always thought... ❞

❝ what? ❞ he asked, his voice dripping with possessiveness. ❝ you thought you weren’t good enough? ❞ he let out a dark chuckle, his hand sliding around your waist, pulling you closer. ❝ you’re more than good enough. you’re mine. ❞

you stared at him, wide-eyed, but then you smiled —this soft, sweet smile that made his chest tighten.

❝ i didn’t think i’d be good enough for you, ❞ you admitted softly, looking down for a moment.

nate’s grip tightened around your waist, his hand firm as he pulled you closer, his lips brushing your temple. ❝ fuck that, y/n, ❞ he whispered, his voice thick with a mixture of desire and triumph. ❝ you’re everything i’ve ever wanted. ❞

your arms wrapped around his neck as you hugged him, pressing your face into his chest, and nate let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

he buried his face into the curve of your neck, breathing you in, his hands gripping your waist as he smirked against your skin. you were his now. completely his.

and nate wasn’t letting you go. not ever.

#minaleigh #leighbaylee #euphoria #nate jacobs #jacob elordi #cassie howard #maddy perez #nate jacobs x reader #nate jacobs x you #nate jacobs x y/n #y/n #female reader

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glitteredrry · 2 months ago

Text

maneater

summary: Harry feels inspired by the woman who is holding his heart in her hands. Harry’s true feelings come out during a recording session, and his heart is on the line.

warning: angst & fluff

wc: 2.4k

I haven’t written in so long, and I was feeling inspired. Please let me know how you like it. I own no rights to this song (just in case lol). I hope you enjoy!!

Harry looked at his Rolex for the fifth time in an hour. He checked the time, awaiting the arrival of his…well, he was not sure what to call her. His girl? Well, no, that’s not the correct title. His lover? That’s not even close to what he was to her. Harry didn’t know the correct title to give her, but he did know that she wasn’t his, yet he was all hers. Luna Gray was her name, it was her stage name. Her birthname was for him only; regardless, her name was on the tip of everyone’s tongue.

Harry and Luna were signed to Columbia Records, and both were some of the biggest stars in the world. Harry met Luna when she signed to the label in 1981, and the first time they met, Harry was electrified to his core. All she had to do was look at him, and Harry mentally fell to his knees. To Harry, she was perfection; the only problem was that he wasn’t the only person who thought this. Let’s just say that Luna was loved by many, and for Harry, it started out not being a problem but slowly developed into one a year later. Luna would explain to all the men she got involved with that she is not someone who could be tied down. She had one goal, which was to be a star. No one or nothing could get in the way of that dream. Harry understood this the first time they slept together, yet as their sexual relationship began to grow, it was somewhat difficult for Harry to hear about the endless men she was caught up with.

Harry could admit he fell in love with her, yet Luna had no idea about Harry’s feelings towards her. Luna continued with her life as normal, while Harry continued to suffer in silence. He knew how Luna was and that her motto was to cut off men once they fell in love. She told the world she enjoyed her life as a single lady in Hollywood. So, as Harry spent the time drowning in his feelings, he caught inspiration to write a song when a picture in the tabloids was released of her with a star athlete. He couldn’t control his jealousy, which was feasting inside him. He was angry, saddened, and felt like an idiot for being in love with someone who told him she wasn’t going to be tied down. Harry continued to pour his emotions on paper, letting go of everything he felt. What he forgot about, though, is that Luna was coming to listen in on his studio session, and this was the only song he was going to record today. This is Luna and Harry’s thing. They were both artists, so it wasn’t out of the norm for them to listen in on their studio sessions and provide notes.

Harry genuinely didn’t want to record this infront of her, but he couldn’t waste paid studio time either. Instead of consistently checking the time, he decided to leave the studio for a smoke break. With each inhale, he felt the stress leave his body until he watched her sleek red Mercedes Convertible pull into the parking lot. Her curly hair was all over the place as she pulled in; her eyes were on Harry’s immediately as she parked. She stepped out of the car with a smile, hoping Harry would forgive her for running a little late. Harry watched as the Los Angeles sunset dipping below the valley illuminated her skin. Harry kept his eyes on her, continuing to smoke and soak in the sound of her heels hitting the pavement. She looked beautiful as she approached Harry; without a word, she grabbed the cigarette from his hands, taking a hit of it.

“You mad at me?” Luna said, exhaling the smoke as it brushed across Harry’s face.

He shook his head ‘no’ because he truly wasn’t mad. Even if he were, she would never know it. “You were supposed to be here an hour ago.” He said, eying her up and down. Lust and anxiety coursing through his veins.

“I got caught up in something. Forgive me, sweetheart,” she said with puppy eyes. Her eyes still held this twinkle in them as if she was playing a game with him.

“Something or someone,” Harry said, letting the jealousy slip. He hated when his mouth would speak before his brain could. Luna smiled at his words, throwing the finished cigarette on the ground and crushing it under her heel.

“Are you sure you want to know?” she smirked, moving past him to enter the studio. Harry felt a slight pang in his chest as he followed her inside. As Luna entered, she sat on the couch and said hello to the sound engineer. Harry nervously picked up the paper and headed to the booth. Just before he got in, Luna called out to him.

“I’m excited to hear the song, Harry.” Her eyes were glowing, and Harry could tell that she was being genuine. Harry and Luna shared a deep connection when it came to music. They both had the utmost respect for each other as artists. Harry smiled at her, briefly looking at her before entering the booth. Harry put on his headphones and signaled that he was ready. Once the beat of the song kicked in, Harry watched as Luna bobbed her head to the music and waited for Harry to start singing. Harry felt his throat swell up in trepidation. Instead of focusing on Luna, he closes his eyes and sings from his heart.

Oh-oh, here she comes

Watch out, boy, she'll chew you up

Oh-oh, here she comes

She's a man-eater

Harry finally opened his eyes when he got to the middle of the song. He looked through the glass as he watched Luna on the couch with an unreadable expression. Her legs were crossed as he watched her hanging leg bounce. As the song faded out, they kept eye contact with each other. The song engineer cleared Harry to remove his headphones, and He watched as Luna stood on her feet, waiting for him to come out. Harry apprehensively stepped out of the booth, feeling the immediate tension filling the room. Harry could see her facial expression had morphed into clear anger, so he decided to have the room for himself for a while. When they were both alone, Harry chose to speak up.

“How did you like the song,”

“How did I like it?” She asked, irritation coursing through her body. “Let me think of how I feel,” she laughed mockingly.

“Listen, I know how it sounds, but hear what I have to say first.”

“Why should I listen to you right now? You brought me here to shame me. All because your feelings are a little hurt, suddenly I should come with a warning label. Well, newsflash, Harry, I told you everything upfront from the beginning.”

“I know that, but trust me when I say none of what you said matters now. Not when I feel like this, not when you know I feel like this about you.”

“Don’t do that. You’ve never told me anything, Harry you-”

“Cut the shit, just because I haven’t verbally mentioned it, I know you know. You know it in the way I kiss you, in the way I touch you, and when I make love to you. That’s on me that I never said anything, and I hate that it had to come out in this way, but don’t act oblivious. I never told you because I know you’ll run away like you have with others.”

“Then why are you telling me now?”

“Because if that’s the risk I must take, then so be it. I can’t live with this inside me anymore. If you decide to run off, that’s on you. Yes, I will admit my feelings were upset seeing you with someone else. I wrote a song about it. That’s what I do. When I can’t speak my feelings, I sing them. This is the only song I was going to record today. I promise it wasn’t to hurt you in any way.”

“Yeah, it doesn’t hurt getting called a maneater.” She rolled her eyes and folded her arms around each other as she turned her back to Harry.

Harry watched her and decided to step closer to her, “I apologize if I hurt you; that’s never what I want. You have to believe me on that. I’m saying it now: I want you to be mine, and I want to be yours,” Harry pleaded with her. Luna soaked in his words, hearing the sincerity in his voice. She couldn’t face him. Yes, Luna believed him and knew that Harry wasn’t lying at all when he said she secretly knew. She did. She enjoyed feeling like Harry would always be there. It was this feeling of security she didn’t have with any of the other men she would casually date. This sense of security was something that she was scared to have pulled away. She didn’t want to commit out of fear of relationships, yet she knew she didn’t want Harry to be gone forever. Even though she knew Harry loved her, she thought she had a longer time to decide whether to commit. It felt like she was now faced with an ultimatum. Instead of answering him, she deflected. “Harry, you’ve seen girls to-.” She was once again cut off with Harry’s words.

“No, don’t do that. You know, every single girl is PR. I stopped doing that altogether once I felt more serious about you. Don’t divert this back to me. Do you want me at all? Or is this where this ends.” Harry said with a deep breath, finally asking the question. He would be lying if he didn’t feel like 100 pounds were sitting on his heart, waiting to be lifted off. All it would take for this anxiety to lift is her uttering the word, ‘Yes, Harry, I want you.’ Yet, what he heard come out of her mouth next left him shocked where he stood. Luna turned to face him with a stone-cold expression, “I can’t do this, Harry.” Luna walked past him to exit the studio, brushing his shoulder as she passed. As her hand touched the cold door handle to leave, Harry muttered what he thought would be his last word to her.

“This is what you do, Luna. You run away, and I don’t know why I thought it would be any different for me.” Harry said, feeling himself getting more emotional that he wanted to be infront of her. Without another word, Luna slammed the door behind her.

As she walked down the long hallway, her heart and mind raced. ‘What did I do?’ She thought to herself. She knows she has a connection with Harry. Without a doubt, she knows that. Yet, she was still scared to commit. Past relationships had driven her to live this bachelorette lifestyle. Luna stopped in her tracks, leaning against a wall. “Fuck,” she muttered to herself. Luna had a real decision to make right now. She could either run off to her car and avoid Harry forever. Or go back into that studio to be with the only man who has ever treated her right. Luna finally knew she could listen to her heart, saying just to trust. She had spent years listening to her brain and severed many lovers because of her mind. Her heart was saying to her don’t let this one go, Luna turned on her heels and headed back in the same direction she left. Harry was sitting on the couch with his head in his hands, soaking in everything that had just happened. He heard the door open and, without looking, thought it was the sound engineer returning.

“Hey man, I need a few more minutes.”

“I love you, Harry Styles. I’m sorry it took this long for me to admit it.” Harry’s head shot up in shock, looking at the door. He watched Luna close the door behind her as he rose.

“Say it again,” he said breathlessly as she approached him. As she reached him, her hands went on opposite sides of his face, and she looked him in the eyes.

“I love you, and I want you. I want this. There are no promises for how fast we will go, though. I haven’t been in a relationship in a long time.”

“I don’t care if we take one inch a day. That’s all I needed you to say.” Harry towered over her, pressing his lips on her. Luna leaned in the kiss, soaking up all of Harry’s love. Her heart felt something it hadn't in a while, true peace. It felt as if all the walls she had spent so hard creating came crumbling down all at once. Harry picked her up, sitting on the couch with her in his arms. Harry deepened the kiss, tangling his hands in her hair. Luna relaxed in his lap as her body felt like it was on fire. Harry broke the kiss as they both panted against each other's lips. Both of their mouths curved up into a smile.

“Sloane, I love you. I think I always have. It’s impossible not to be. I promise I want this.” Luna’s cheeks beamed at her real name slipping from his lips. She couldn’t begin to explain this feeling in her body.

“I’m excited about this, Harry. And you’re doing a real civil duty keeping me from eating more men.” She said, teasing him about the song.

“Baby, If the song upset you, I’ll scrap it.” Her index finger lightly brushed over his lips to shush him.

“To say it upset me is an understatement. I would be a complete fool if I watched you let go of that song. It’s a great song and can be our little secret that it’s about me.”

“Deal, baby.” Harry smiled at her, happy that she was okay with him putting the song out.

“Now you have to make it up to me, though,” she said seductively. That’s all it took for Harry to feel that similar yearning.

“I’m going to spend all night making it up to you, I promise.” Luna kissed Harry again, and she let Harry express his love for her. Both of them decided to use the studio for the night so that Harry’s promise could be kept. Luna and Harry couldn’t be more in love than they already felt. It made the wait that Harry had to endure all worth it.

#harry styles #harry styles fan fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fic rec #harry styles angst

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syluslnd · 3 months ago

Note

Your writing style is positively inspiring and transporting 😍 I’ve been wanting to ask this for a long time, but only have built up the courage to request: how Sylus would react to learning the MC or y/n is on antidepressants/anti anxiety meds for their past traumas, and possibly how he would react to noticing MC having rough mental health days . I absolutely understand if it’s not something you want or can write on 💙🙏 just wanted to at least ask :)

Sylus reaction to reader who’s on meds

(hi anon personally I’ve never had to be on meds so this topic is one I’m not too familiar with,I tried my best to write it accordingly;I hope you’re well and I’m glad you had the courage to send in this request it was something completely new for me to write🤍)

────୨ৎ────

The apartment was quiet when Sylus arrived, far quieter than he expected. Normally, the moment he stepped through the door, he’d hear your cheerful voice, some casual greeting or see you bouncing from room to room in your usual flustered, charming way. But today, there was only silence.

He walked in, his boots making soft thuds against the floor. His eyes flickered around the room, scanning for signs of your presence. A mug sat abandoned on the kitchen counter, half-filled with tea, long gone cold. There was a book lying open on the couch, its pages dog-eared but you were nowhere to be seen.

“Sylus?” your voice, faint and hesitant, called from down the hall. You appeared a moment later, your face wearing a smile, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. Something about you seemed… off.

“Hey, sweetie” he said, forcing his usual smirk as he approached you. But there was a subtle flicker of concern in his eyes, something he tried to mask behind his casual tone. “Everything okay? You look a little worn out.”

“Oh, just tired” you replied quickly, your tone a little too light, a little too quick. “I didn’t sleep well last night. But it’s fine.”

Sylus nodded slowly, watching you for a moment longer. He had known you long enough to read the slight tremor in your voice the tension in your shoulders but he didn’t push. Not yet.

While you disappeared into the kitchen to grab something, Sylus moved toward the living room. He casually glanced over the cluttered coffee table, where your things were strewn about, remnants of a busy week. But then his eyes caught something small and unassuming—an orange bottle, half-hidden under some papers.

He paused, his brow furrowing as he picked it up. Xanax. His breath hitched, his normally composed expression slipping as he turned the bottle in his hand, staring at the label. Anxiety medication. The name alone struck him with a mix of surprise and concern.

You hadn’t mentioned this. Not once. Not even hinted at it. You were always so bright, so full of life, even when you tripped over your words or blushed under his teasing gaze. The thought that something darker had been lurking beneath your usual cheerfulness hit him hard.

“Sylus?” Your voice startled him. He quickly set the bottle down but not before you saw the way his fingers lingered on it, the way his expression tightened with unspoken questions. He looked up at you, his usual confidence suddenly faltering.

There was a beat of silence before he spoke, his voice quieter than usual. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You froze, your heart sinking as your eyes darted from him to the bottle of pills he’d clearly seen. The weight of it, the unspoken truth you had been hiding, suddenly became too heavy to ignore. You opened your mouth but no words came out at first.

Sylus stood there, his gaze now piercing in a different way—less teasing more intense more concerned. His hands hung at his sides, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with them as if he wanted to reach out to you but didn’t know how.

“Sweetie…” His voice softened, a rare break in his usual sharp demeanor. “How long have you been dealing with this?”

You took a shaky breath, feeling the tension in the air thicken. “I—I didn’t want to bother you” you admitted, your voice small guilt and fear tightening your chest. “You’re always so busy, with work and everything. I didn’t want to make it a big deal.”

Sylus’s eyes narrowed and for the first time there was no smirk, no teasing glint. He looked… hurt. His jaw tightened and he ran a hand through his hair, visibly grappling with how to respond. “A big deal? You’re dealing with something this serious and you thought it wasn’t worth telling me?”

You couldn’t meet his gaze anymore, your eyes dropping to the floor. The truth, the weight of what you’d been hiding, was unbearable now. “I didn’t want to worry you” you whispered, feeling the sting of tears welling up. “I’ve just been… struggling. A lot. But I didn’t know how to say it. I didn’t want to seem weak. Not to you.”

For a moment, Sylus didn’t speak. His silence was heavy, filled with thoughts you couldn’t quite read. Then he exhaled sharply, as if he was trying to release some of the tension that had been building up inside him.

“You’re not weak” he finally said, his voice a little rough around the edges. His hand lifted, hesitant at first but then he stepped closer and gently cupped your cheek, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. “You should’ve told me. I should’ve noticed.”

His thumb brushed lightly across your cheek, wiping away a tear you hadn’t realized had fallen. The guilt in his eyes was undeniable and it broke through that tough, stoic exterior he usually wore like armor.

“I’ve been so caught up with work…” he muttered, mostly to himself, his jaw clenching as he shook his head. “I should’ve been here for you. I’m sorry.”

You shook your head quickly, trying to quell the guilt you could see eating at him. “No, it’s not your fault, Sylus. You couldn’t have known. I—I’ve gotten good at hiding it. I didn’t want anyone to see how bad it’s been.”

His hand moved from your cheek to your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “But I should’ve seen it” he said, his voice low and tense, filled with regret. “You’re always so… cheery around me. I didn’t know you were feeling like this underneath it all.”

You swallowed hard finally letting the full weight of your feelings tumble out. “I didn’t know how to talk about it” you admitted, your voice breaking. “It’s been hard. The anxiety, the feeling like I’m drowning some days… I’ve been putting on a mask just to get through.”

Sylus’s grip on your shoulder tightened, his expression darkening with the weight of what you were saying. “You don’t have to do that with me” he said firmly, his voice low and intense. “You don’t have to hide anything.”

You felt a lump rise in your throat the vulnerability making you feel raw and exposed. But the way he was looking at you now—so serious, so full of regret—made you feel like you could finally let go of the walls you had built around yourself.

“I didn’t want to burden you” you whispered, voice trembling. “You’re always busy. I didn’t want to be another thing on your plate.”

His eyes flashed with frustration, not at you, but at himself. “You’re not a burden, sweetie” he said, his voice soft but intense. “You could never be.”

There was a long tense silence before Sylus sighed heavily pulling you into his chest, his arms wrapping around you tightly. The embrace was firm, reassuring in a way that made your entire body relax for the first time in weeks. His scent, his warmth, everything about him was grounding.

“I’m sorry I didn’t notice sooner” he whispered, his voice thick with guilt. “But I’m here now. I’ll make more time for you. We’ll get through this together, okay?”

You nodded into his chest, feeling the weight of the past few weeks lift just a little. With Sylus holding you like this, for the first time in a while, you didn’t feel so alone.

#love and deepspace #lnds sylus #love and deepspace sylus #l&ds sylus #lads sylus #sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x you

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sugarcoatedstarkey · 1 year ago

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Firsts

pairings - Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

summary - Rafe was always there for your firsts.

warnings - drinking, drugs, language, fem receiving oral. (18+)

An/ I have other fics I should be finishing but this came to me this morning and I needed to write it!

Rafe Cameron.

Rafe Cameron was your first everything.

First friend, first girl boy hug, first kiss, first touch, first time, you hadn’t expected him to be your first heartbreak though.

Having been friends with him the moment your eyes landed on the quiet boy who sat on the browning grass, staring out at the kids playing. You can still remember the slight scowl on his chubby little face, you took it upon yourself to be friends with him.

Surprisingly he wanted to be your friend just as much as you wanted to be his, from that moment on the two of you were inseparable. It helped that you moved in next door to him, your parents becoming fast friends.

Throwback to the ripe age of 18, the night he broke your heart. You weren’t together, you were just best friends. Best friends that shared each other's firsts and seconds and so on. Neither of you put a label on the love you shared.

You wished you had though, the moment your eyes landed on his hands laced through Rebecca Jones’s tiny delicate hand, you knew that was the end.

He didn’t greet you that night, didn’t pull you into his famous bone crushing hug or whisper about how annoying everyone was. Instead he ignored you, Rebecca and his friends followed behind him as though he was royalty.

He wore a frightening smirk on his face the whole night, shoved at JJ Maybank who was hired as wait staff along with a fair few other pogues. Made a scene and called them names, at one point his father even had to get involved.

You felt sick to your stomach at the sight of the man in front of you, no longer the person you wanted to share your firsts with.

Fast forward to 21, you haven't spoken to him in three years. You couldn’t deny you missed him deeply, his picture still hung from the thin string lining your bedroom wall. But it was only one photo compared to the 300 you had tucked under your bed along with other memories.

It was your birthday, your eyes skimmed the people in the garden setting up for your party. Your eyes shooting to the silk black dress that hung in the doorway of your ensuite, darting your eyes back over the lawn and up at the tall house beside yours.

Your eyes search for a glimpse of Rafe but no life was found in the windows or the balcony. Letting out a soft sigh, you pushed yourself to stand. You didn’t have much time to get ready, your friends would be here soon and would want to start drinking the moment they stepped into your room.

45 minutes later you found yourself on the back porch, nursing a pornstar martini that your friend Elle had made. People had started to arrive and the sun had begun to set, your eyes searching through the sea of people for Rafe. You knew he wouldn’t show, even though at the age of 12 he promised to throw you the biggest 21st, just like the people on tv.

“Hey!”

You jumped slightly in your seat at the brazen voice, eyes landing on your friends who stared at you with worry. “What?” You questioned, grabbing a napkin you dabbed at the liquid that ran down your chest.

“I said, Barry is waiting for you by the side gate”.

All you do is nod and stand, Elle passes you the envelope of cash and keeps her eyes on the people around her. Tucking the folded up envelope in your bra, you make your way to the side of the house.

The music is loud and everyone is having a good time, your parents have gone out for the weekend to give you some space. Your friends had decided they wanted to buy something stronger than weed but were too scared of Barry to organize it themselves, but you apparently had no fear these days.

“Princess”

You knew you made a mistake instantly, Barry lent against the fence in a wife beater and ratty shorts. Smoke surrounded his face, stepping out of the dark he stopped in front of you.

You stood at the same height as him, if you had opted for heels you would have towered over him. “That dress looks good on you”.

“Here’s your money”

He cocked his head and kissed his teeth, eyes roaming your body unashamedly. You take a step back but he’s quick to step forward, gripping your wrist that held the envelope. “How about I give you something that’ll blow your mind but you pay a different way”

You shook your head instantly, you knew what he wanted. You weren’t stupid, the way his eyes darkened at the sight of you. “No I don’t think so… take the cash”

A throaty laugh escapes his lips and he tugs you towards him, your palm smacks his chest to keep you from falling into him further. You can smell the cigarette on his breath, scrunching your nose up when his lips ghost your cheek. “How about you get on your knees and put that pretty little mouth to good use”.

You tug on your wrist but his grip tightens, slipping his tongue out to wet his lips. “I have the cash, please just take the cash”.

His palm meets your shoulder, he uses all his strength to push your body to the floor and your knees hit the gravel. “Barry” you grit, your clenched fist meets his stomach and he doubles over in pain. “You bitch!”.

He coughs loudly and the little baggie falls to the floor, you're quick to grab it and jump up, throwing the envelope to his feet you step back but meet a hard wall. “Do we have a problem?”

All words that sat on the tip of your tongue vanished at the sight of Rafe, his eyes are hard and pointed at Barry. “I have the cash to pay him” your voice is just above a whisper, the skin of your bicep tingles at the feeling of Rafe’s fingers gripping tightly. “I don’t want the cash.. I want her on her knees” Barry growls, he stands up straight and steps towards you again. Pressing your back firmly against Rafe’s chest, he’s quick to pull you behind him. “She’s with me Barry”

“Oh shit man… I didn’t know she was yours!”

“She’s mine”

The goosebumps are back and butterflies swarm your belly, you zone out for what feels like a second but when you come back down to reality, Rafe is ushering you away from the scene, eyes cocking to see Barry hopping on his bike and the envelope you had for him inside his back pocket.

“I didn’t need your help”

You're not sure why you even said that, of course you needed help. There was no way you were leaving with anything unless you sucked Barry off. Rafe ignores you, pushing you forward by your lower back until you're back with your friends. Your fingers tighten around the baggie, hiding it from Rafe’s eyes.

You didn’t care that he knew you were buying drugs, it’s not like you hadn’t seen him snort lines at every party. It just felt strange, your first time doing something harder then weed wasn’t with him.

All your friends' eyes are on the two of you, mouths opened in shock. Before anyone can say anything he’s walking away, slipping into the crowd of people and disappearing. “What just happened?”

“Let’s get high”

The four of you lock yourself in the bathroom, opening the small baggie you pour the contents into your palm. “Did he say what it was?”

You shook your head, placing a small pill on the tip of your tongue. Each of their eyes watch as you swallow, holding out your palm for them to grab.

“I’m scared… I feel like we shouldn’t trust what he gives us”

“It’s fine, if it had been anything bad he would have told Rafe.”

“How do you know that?”

“I just do Elle.. take the damn pill”

Each of them grab a pill and swallow, you put the rest back into the bag and hide it under the toilet sink inside your tampon box.

You're out the door before any of them can stop you, grabbing a bottle of champagne from the bench and heading back outside. Your feet take you further into the party, looking for Rafe. You hadn’t expected him to show up, your parents made you invite him since it would have been rude to throw a party next door without inviting your oldest friend.

You spot Rafe instantly, sipping on a beer and leaning against a pole. Topper and Kelce stand beside him as the two of them chat, Rafe’s eyes meet you for a brief moment before turning away from you.

Anger bubbles in your chest, storming back through the party. The bottle of champagne now half empty by the time you make it to your bathroom, the anger fuels the stupidity in your brain.

Grabbing the pills from the tampon box you take another, wanting the effects of the drug to hit you faster. But by the time you’ve taken the last step of the patio you're swaying, throwing your arms out to brace yourself. “Shit” you laugh, the empty bottle of champagne hitting the grass with a thud.

“Come dance!” Elle shouted, her tiny arms waving above her head. With wobbly legs you make your way to your friends, dancing wildly with them until a hot body comes up behind you and circles their arm around your waist, pressing you firmly to their crotch. “Hey”

You let the person dance against you, hands wandering your thighs and your stomach. The fingers of the stranger behind you brushes the underneath of your breasts before groping a handful, your mouth parts just a tiny bit and your ass presses firmer against him.

“What the fuck?”

Spinning on the spot at the loss of warmth behind you, the guy who had been dancing with you was on the floor. Rafe towered over you once again, his fingers grip your bicep and he’s pulling you away from the party. You notice no one watches the two of you, music drowning out any chatter around them.

“Rafe! What the hell is your problem!” You growl, wriggling in his grip only causing further pain to your arm. You give up rather quickly and let him drag you back into the house, pushing you through the door of the downstairs bathroom and closing the door behind him.

You press up against the bathroom sink and cross your arms, your eyes drift up and down his body. You can hear the harsh breaths Rafe was letting out, his forehead creased in anger. “I haven’t spoken to you in 3 years… you can’t just show up and manhandle me”.

His eyes meet yours finally and he takes a step closer, not close enough for you to touch him though. His cologne invades your nostrils and your cheeks heat from the memories of his hands on your body. “If you're not going to talk I’m leaving… it’s my birthday”.

His eyes finally drop from your eyes and he takes in your body, starting at your sneakers, drinking in the sight of your slender long legs, stopping for a tad longer on your breasts and then back up to your eyes.

You can hear your heartbeat in your ear, Goosebumps litter your skin and you have to brace yourself against the vanity table, legs wobbling from his gaze. “Happy birthday”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, your shoulders relax at the sound of his voice. A voice you hadn’t heard up close in so long, a voice you dreamt about every night. “Thanks”.

The both of you are silent again, the sound of the party behind the door grows louder as the drugs start to lose their effect. “You look nice”

“Thanks”

He takes a step closer again, the toes of his shoes meet yours. The two of you look down briefly and then back at each other, you can smell the scotch on his breath, it's intoxicating.

“Rafe” your fingers touch his bicep softly, electricity flows through the tips of your fingers all the way to your heart. “I’ve missed you” he whispers seconds before his lips are on yours, all the memories you share together hit you like a tidal wave. Your knees buckle but he’s quick to wrap his arm around your waist and pull you closer to his chest.

“Missed you so much” he grunts, lips peppering kisses against yours. Down your jaw until they meet the base of your throat and he sucks hard, a soft whine escapes your parted lips. “Fuck”.

He grips your hips and drops you on the vanity table, pushing himself between your parted thighs, the heels of your shoes press firmly against his backside, pulling him closer to you. “You taste so fucking good”.

“Fuck Rafe… just like that” you whine, his hips roll against yours. His fingers grope and massage the skin of your thigh, pushing up the length of your dress to expose your nude thong. Your arousal soaks the front of your panties, your knees try to lock together in embarrassment but his thick frame holds them out. “I still make you as wet as I did 3 years ago” he groans, with one swift movement he’s ripped them at the crotch. Your pretty wet pussy exposed to his hungry eyes, his large hands tug you closer to the edge of the sink, dropping to his knees in front of you.

The sight has you clenching around nothing, arousal weeping from your needy hole. He places your feet on his shoulders and situates himself between your thighs. “Be a good girl for me y/n… let me eat your pussy for your birthday”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth and nod frantically, the tip of his nose brushes your delicate clit. Your hips jut up to his face, a wicked smile paints itself on his lips. His tongue drops out slowly, the sight of the wet muscle has you whining. “Happy birthday sweetheart”

His hot tongue glides between your folds, your head falling back against the mirror in pure delight. “Oh fuck” you cried, pressing the balls of your feet into his shoulders. His hands grip the outside of your thighs, pulling your legs further apart until he can see your cunt in all its glory, glistening from your arousal. He could see your inner muscles clenching at the sight of him watching you. “Please Rafe” you begged, his lips dropped back to your pussy. Sucking and licking your overly sensitive nub, two of his fingers slip between your opening. Your back arching as he tapped at your g spot, you're sure you can see stars as he works himself on your pussy. “Sweet Jesus… Rafe! Yes yes yes”

The grunt of his approval vibrates against your clit, grinding your hips into his face. Your arousal coats his lower half, nose red from pressing himself so deep into your cunt. “I’m close! Rafe… right there! Holy shittt” your screams can be heard outside the bathroom door, the grip on your thighs are tight as he holds you close to him. You ride out your high, a thin layer sweat coats your chest and forehead. The back of your head hurts from the brutal force of you pushing against the mirror to steady yourself, you watch in silence as Rafe pulls away from you. Just as you open your mouth there are loud bangs on the bathroom door.

“Rafe! Man! Rafe quick Rebecca is outside looking for you!”

He’s out the door in seconds, leaving you alone and feeling dirty. Pressing your thighs closed you let out a silent sob, tears stream your face as you clean yourself up and throw away the ripped panties.

You take a few moments to calm down and slap some sense into yourself, you should have known Rafe was still seeing her. You should have told him to leave the moment he turned up, he was the Rafe you knew.

You exit the bathroom quietly and rush back downstairs in search of a drink, grabbing ahold of the tequila bottle.

As you step onto the patio, your friends quickly greet you. Your eyes stay on Rafe though, ignoring the chatter behind you, your eyes fall to the hand of Rebecca’s, it lay upon his chest in a gesture of adoration. A beautiful diamond placed upon her ring finger, the butterflies in your belly all but die. The beating of your heart is the only thing you hear, he notices where your eyes have landed and he is quick to place his much bigger hand over hers, hiding the beautiful ring from your vision.

He’s engaged.

Rafe Cameron got engaged.

Rafe Cameron had his first engagement and it wasn’t with you…

“Come on let’s go dance” Elle says, noticing the way both you and Rafe stare at each other. You squeeze your eyes shut for a brief moment when Rebecca reaches up to kiss his cheek, bringing the bottle of tequila to your lips. The alcohol burns your throat in the most satisfying way.

Your eyes open to catch the worry that finds its way onto his features as he watches you throw back way too much alcohol for your small body.

“Let’s get fucked up” you exclaim, walking away from your friends and towards the bar your parents had hired for the night.

“4 shots please… actually, just give me that bottle of whiskey”.

🏷️ Tag list- @laylasbunbunny @maybankslover @h34rtsformilli @hallecarey1 @outerbankspov @cameronmedia @crunchy-leaves77 @vigilanteshitposting @pedrisgatorade @rafemotherfuckingcameron @s-we-e-t-t-ea @rafesthroatbaby @alltoomay @moremaybank @mrssturnioloo @darleneslane @tierra-0604 @gabys-gabs @starkey-zegras @definitelynotholly-blog @renmpsworld @delicatepiratecloud @speedycomputerfury @tiacordelia02 @bbycowboi @jscameron @rafegirly @drudyslut @drewstarkeyslut @loverofdrewstarkey @ijustwanttoreadlols @spookyscaryspoon @ailee-celeste @ashpeace888 @xo-hayleyy-xo @ethereal0810 @tayygriffith @pankowperfection @oceandriveab @slut4ani @spideysimpossiblegirl @kamninaries @rubixgsworld @pickingviolets @wearemadeofstardust0 @one-sweet-gubler (if I have forgotten you please let me know)

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limarkova · 5 days ago

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Yandere Batfam x Neglected Reader x Yandere Al Ghuls

Pt 5.

Prev Next

The library was quiet when you walked in. Since it was still early in the morning many people hadn't shown up yet. Your luck of finding a tutor were slim right now. It was best to start independent so you could tell a tutor what you needed to learn more about anyway.

You wonder the shelves contemplating where to begin. Maybe the computers to look up what fourth grade standards? Didn't those vary though? Okay maybe you should have goaded your 'family' into telling you were the 'boarding school' was supposedly base. Science sounded like a good option. It used a mix of math and reading comprehension.

You had to choose a science fourth grades typically learned, though. Honestly you wished you could just pick any science and say the school had specialized classes. However you didn't know what type of boarding school Bruce claimed you went to. The slightest misstep and your siblings would alert him that something was up.

Being realistic Bruce could send you back at anytime. By playing into his lies, you would appear compliant or like you don't suspect he was involved. That could buy you time. If it seemed like you were truly trying to integrate back into the family and not expose the experiments, he might let you stay for a little longer. Why get rid of someone if their potential as a threat was limited by their ignorance?

For now you need to match the cover story. Whatever books were labeled fourth grade level than. Maybe a few fifth grade books. You had implied that you were doing more advanced work. Maybe you could safely make the claim that you were placed in advance classes. They had been talking about those during your last year at Gotham prep.

The kids section was full of basic cartoon style books. You browsed a few before frowning. Most of the information was the bare bone minimum. Half the books mark 4th grade level only covered surface level knowledge.

You pulled out a book on human anatomy and almost bursted out laughing. The drawings were over simplifications of the organs, nothing compared to how they really looked. Slimy, covered in veins, shades of pink or gray you didn't expect once the blood was removed. That thought brought back a haunting memory. You shoved the book back on the shelf. Medical research would come later.

Grabbing any books that caught your attention, you headed over to a secluded area. Most of the information was basic understand. Yes, you learned some new things and were fairly certain your reading comprehension was ay the appropriate level. But there was nothing involving math. "Maybe a few tutors have shown up or a librarian can help me call one."

Standing back up you wondering over to the librarian desk. No one was there. You yet out a heavy sigh. Oh course they weren't there, that was just your luck.

"Hello, are you looking for something?" You jumped at the sudden voice behind you. Spinning around you saw a woman with long dark brown hair and green eyes. She carried herself confidently but some part of you screamed the she was capable of violence.

"I was looking into what's available in terms of math tutoring. Maybe social studies or history if that's an options." You angled you body away from her.

She laughed slightly more to herself than you. There was a gleam in her eye, like she was impressed by her assessment. "Well you're in luck. I happened to home schooled my own son in math and know a lot of teachers. What do you need to know?"

"Pretty much everything above adding and subtracting." You scowled down at the books in your arms. It they had and hadn't been useful. Maybe you should take advantage of this woman's help. You needed a tutor, it shouldn't matter who it was also long as your family didn't find out. "What’s your name?"

"I'm Talia." She crouched down to your level and held out a hand. You stopped thinking.

Talia.

The woman mentioned in your mother's diary. It couldn't be. Though she mentioned having a son. No Talia might have been an older flame and Damian's mother had a different name. Maybe you had been to quick to get in a fight with him. Now you couldn't ask him about his mother. What if he sent her to spy on you because you had pissed him off? Not good, really not good.

"I'm (Fake Name)." You gave her the wrong name and watched. If Damian had sent her, she would probably already know your name. So by giving her the wrong one you could figure what she already knew about you. It wouldn't be through her words or actions. No the hints would be subtle. Some kind of disappointment or a sign she felt slighted.

Yet her face remain pleasant. That slight hint of being impressed remaining, "It's nice to meet you. Let's do a few tests so I can see where you are first." Just like that you were swept away into a world of learning.

Talia was beyond impressed with the young Wayne girl. First she correctly identified Talia as a threat. It was obvious by the way she angled herself away from the older woman. How her eyes flicked for the nearest exit, probably a subconscious reaction. Without Talia's weapons or reputation, the girl had pick up on danger.

Next was the wrong name. Said so surely like it truly was her name. The girl shifted so fluidly into the new identity too. Talia would have believed it if she hadn't already done research. Never once did she catch the girl not responding to the name. All without proper training.

However, that all paled in comparison to her true shining trait. The girl's intelligence was well beyond average. She caught trick questions and picked up topics quickly. Talia was willing to bet her intellect could rival Bruce's. Obviously not at her current state, she need guidance to reach that level. Still all the material was there.

"Thank you for the help, today." Her voice was quiet. Movements quick to put away the notebook she had written all of her work in. They had moved from mathematics, to English, social studies, sciences, and the one that she seem the most interested in Criminal Investigation. Damian had taken his father's intelligence but was held back his ego. She didn't have that fault.

Talia smiled, "of course. Will you be returning tomorrow? I would love to continue our lessons. There's a chance I might be able to teach you Arabic."

"Arabic, the language?"

"Yes. I taught my son but well he lives with his father now and I don't get to speak it with him anymore." Talia said the information to get the girl to relax but the opposite occurred.

(Name) bit her lip, "I apologize if this is sensitive to you but what's your son's name?"

"Damian." Talia observed the girl's reaction. Her shoulders tense, body angling again, one deep breath. "Too bad his father turned him against me."

"How?" The girl blinked after saying the word. Her face was too blank to be natural. The information was throwing her for a loop as she tried to make it fit her reality. They would need to work on that.

Talia shook her head sadly, "I'm not a hundred percent certain what he told my boy but I think... I think he made Damian believe that he was in love with me and I broke his heart. Even though it was the other way around when he cheated on me."

Talia watched as the words hit home with the girl. Oh she had chosen the right story to turn her against Bruce. The girl gave her an easy smile that was a smidge too tense in the corners, "Yeah. I'll be here tomorrow. Can I ask one last question?"

"Go ahead." Talia gestured with her hand.

"Do you happened to know any self defense teachers?" Determination morphed her features. It made her come alive in a sense. That fire she saw yesterday back in her eyes and brighter. Confidence shifted her stance into one more sure.

"Oh I know several material arts teachers."

Bruce sat in his car, rubbing his brow. In a little over twenty-four hours since his youngest had shown up at manor things had arguably gotten worst. First the information coming out about (Name) never being at school followed by a full blown investigation by his kids. Than there was what the others had officially dub "The shit list". Damian had become so upset he secluded himself in the barn. Last but certainly not less were the changes the other reported in his youngest.

Dick's last phone call said she was at the library researching for 'school'. They had decided to watch her through the cameras believing space was what she actually need. Yet one thing was clear from the little time she had spent in the manor since coming back. Whatever had happened was traumatic and she was not going to tell them directly. Perhaps whoever had her was now stalking her to ensure she wouldn't cooperate.

Bruce would double the manor's security. He wouldn't fail one of his kids a second time. She hadn't arrived home from the library yet, so Bruce had time to prepare. Taking one last deep breath he exited the car. First stop the Batcave to get an update on investigation.

Bruce might as well have entered a war zone. At least there he would know where to start. Dick and Jason were in a screaming match about who should have been checking in on her. Tim was two steps away from drinking coffee straight from the pot, while pouring over financial records. Barbara looked like she was having an aneurysm. Cass was analysising video footage taking notes on presumably her body language. Duke was being interrogate being Steph on how (Name) acted while the two were out and what she could have been writing in "the shit list."

"Status report." His voice shattered the chaos in a matter of seconds. "Oracle you go first."

"I searched through city wide surveillance feeds and found some video footage from a few days ago. It seems like who ever had her did chase after but..." Oracle, Barbara trailed off. The screen flash to show (Name) being chased by an armed pursuer. In two seconds, she had turned thrown a knife of some kind than ran down an another alleyway. Her pursuer fell to the ground weapon lodged in his throat. "Police reports identified him as James Lenon, a low level criminal with a history of violence. He had a scalpel in his trachea and was pronounced dead on arrival of the scene."

Bruce now understood why Barbara looked ready to have an aneurysm. This footage showed (Name) committing murder. Just to get away from whoever was holding her captive. He could only imagine what might have pushed her to that point. That or she didn't know the guy was dead. It would technically count as self defense either way but not a good sign.

Barbara typed something on her laptop before another video appeared. "Than there's this one." It show (Name) running off screen injured. When she reappeared the injuries were gone, not even a speck of blood. The video ended with (Name) throwing a mangled bullet at the camera. An act of defiance, but towards who.

"Has this video been edited?"

"No. This is the orginial video. Do you think she might actually be a meta?" The room filled with anticipation at that.

Bruce nodded once, "we'll need to test her DNA but the odds are good. Red Robin what do you have?"

"She was telling the truth about her card being stolen. It would seem whoever stole it though knew better than to use it to pay for something directly. All of it's cash withdrawals, the ATMs used are in Gotham though so it's all local. Oracle any updates on ATM footage?"

"Na-da. They're smart, covered their faces with sunglasses and sick masks. Generic brand sunglasses and disposable mask so no identifying markers. They wear them on video until they disappear." Barbara brought several still shots onto the screen.

Bruce nodded to the two, taking in the information. It assumable from the ATM footage alone there were multiple people involved in this. They would need to identify which group had the most to gain.

"Nightwing, Red Hood. What did your investigation of the PO box reveal?"

"They scorched the damn place the night she escaped." Jason dropped a picture of a burnt and destroyed PO boxes on the table. One box in the third row was circled "Also destroyed any mail going to all the PO boxes on that wall. Feds are looking into it since the post office was involved, I couldn't get closer than that."

"The person who orginially opened the box, Marcus Antonio, was found dead last night." Dick placed crime scene photos on the table. A man with a singular bullet wound laid in a pool of blood. There were tipped over and rifled through drawers, books, coffee containers. The scene was mess. "Decided to take a look around. It was a clean hit but catch this. The guy had loads of cash stashed all over the place. GCPD thinks it was a robbery gone wrong since they didn't take all of it and left in a hurry. With what we know, I think it was a targeted attack. They mostly just took the cash they could find, figuring they were going to get cut off"

Tim interrupted, "I second that. All cash withdrawals stopped the day after she escaped. They pulled more than they usually did so the bank flagged the card. It's shut off pending investigation."

Bruce nodded. It was likely that most of the people involved were going to leave Gotham. Cash would be necessary for that. "Any sign of the mail?"

"No but he had a burn bucket in the bedroom." Dick shook his head. Leaning against the table he sighed. "They're getting rid of evidence quickly and have a three day head start."

"Orphan."

"She shows signs of hyper vigilance, avoids cameras, and I think she probing us for information." Cassandra looked up from the tablet she was using one.

"Wait, she's probing us for information?" Tim stopped typing on his laptop before throwing his head back and groaning. "She's become one mystery after another."

"At the breakfast table. She was trying to figure out if we read her diary, was gauging how we all reacted to her mentioning school, and was ensuring the debit card got closed out. The roommates she referred to as troublesome were probably the gaurds."

Everyone nodded. Bruce looked to Barbara, "I want a video of breakfast this morning. I need to know exactly what was said. Spoiler, Signal."

"If she doesn't have PTSD I don't know what she has." Steph leaned back in her chair rubbing her eyes. "Though this one wasn't pay any special anytime to her behavior."

"I didn't know I was supposed to. I genuinely thought she was upset because Damian attacked and having to leave 'school' early." Duke ran a hand over his face. "In the hours we spent at the mall, she implied she had to leave school quickly because something really bad happened. That and she's..."

Duke froze, pieces connecting in his head. When he looked at Bruce, horror started to mix with realization. "Was she a Meta two years ago?"

There was a pregnant pause as everyone in the room thought. Bruce shook his, "No. She never showed signs of being a Meta."

"Disappeared for two years, comes back with meta abilities, refers to the thing making her leave as really bad with potentially two triggers for her being needles and the smell of disinfectant." Duke looked at all of them more pieces falling into place. Bruce's eyebrows knitted together. Duke was on to something but for the life of him, Bruce could piece it together? "What was happening two years when she disappeared? Other than that Joker attack."

It finally hit Bruce what Duke was getting at. Two years ago Meta Human traffickers stop looking for ways to find 'product'. Instead they began looking for ways to create new it. There were reports of them doing horrifying things to create new meta humans. It didn’t work because most of them lacked the funding to get the necessary chemicals and equipment.

Yet, with a Wayne kid's debit card that gets weekly deposits. He even gave her a higher amount than the others because she was supposedly aboard. It was possible but there was one missing component for this. "There are no meta humans in my biological family. She wouldn't have the gene to activate."

"And her mother's half of the family?" It was a valid question for Duke to ask. Bruce thought for a second, had her mother had a meta in her family. She mentioned an aunt that was disowned but that was it.

"Spoiler I want you looking into her mother's side of the family." Bruce gave the command before looking across the room again. "Red Hood start looking into Meta Human Traffickers who went off the grid two years ago. Red Robin you're in charge of looking into whoever made those withdrawals. Find out where that cash went. Oracle, look into the two people we've identified as being involved, get contacts, favorite hunts, anything you can. Send that information to Oprhan and Signal. You two are with me in tracking them down."

"What about me B?" Dick gave Bruce a questioning look.

"You're going to talk with (Name) and get her to open up to you." Bruce nodded at Dick, "Go be her older brother."

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