#i think i do lean towards recommending to wait | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

not-neverland06 · 4 months ago

Text

broken promises

pt two

bodyguard!logan howlett x congressman's daughter!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Logan scoffed and shrugged. “I was fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds good to me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You took her home on your bike!”

“Well-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He doesn’t want me to crash.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you believe in it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s going to be hard to remember that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get her out of here!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am so sorry about this. Really.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We look good,” you muse.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

People Against Mutants

Evolution or Monstrosities

Parents for the Removal of Mutant Children

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright, bub, hands off,” he warns.

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

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

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

“Logan,” you start, tone nervous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck, quit that, would ya?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

General Taglist: @evasmlp

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

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

4K notes · View notes

tender-rosiey · 2 months ago

Text

off the menu — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: you throw hands cuz a bich cant take no for an answer

the evening starts off well enough, the soft glow of the restaurant's lighting casting a warm hue over your quiet table with satoru.

it’s peaceful, intimate, and everything a date night should be—until the waitress begins her performance.

from the moment she approaches, something feels off. her attention seems almost glued to satoru, and the way she stands a little too close sets your teeth on edge.

as she pours his water, she bends over just enough to emphasize her neckline, a coy smile on her lips.

“so, how can I make this evening even better for you?” she asks, her voice sickly sweet as she looks satoru up and down, her eyes lingering a second too long.

you can feel the irritation rising, but you force yourself to remain calm—for now.

satoru, oblivious or perhaps just amused, leans back in his chair, lazily gesturing toward you with a smile. “I’m already good, thanks to my wife. you could say she makes every evening perfect.”

the waitress falters for a moment, her smile twitching, but she regains her composure quickly.

“lucky man,” she murmurs, eyes flicking to you before dismissing your presence entirely. “but surely, sir, you’d appreciate just a little extra attention tonight?”

she places the menu in front of him. “I can recommend our finest wine if you’d like. I know exactly what a man like you needs to make the evening unforgettable.”

“that’s very kind of you,” satoru replies, his tone polite yet distant. “but I really just want to enjoy dinner with my wife. she’s the only one I need to impress tonight.”

the waitress gives a tight smile, clearly undeterred. “well, if you change your mind, I’m just a call away. you know, they say great taste runs in the family—your wife must be quite the catch.”

you can feel the irritation bubbling over, but you stay silent, waiting for your chance. satoru glances at you, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. “she is. best decision I ever made.”

the waitress leans in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “you must be the envy of all the other guys here. a man like you deserves to be spoiled. I could help with that.”

“trust me, I’m already spoiled,” satoru shoots back, his grin widening as he pushes his chair away from her. “my wife knows how to treat me very right,” he hums, eyes flitting to you.

just as she’s about to respond, she places her hand on satoru's shoulder, leaning in with an exaggerated pout. “but what if I could make tonight special just for you?”

that’s when something in you snaps.

“excuse me?” you cut in, your voice sharp enough to slice through the tension. “did you just seriously put your filthy fucking hands on my husband?”

the waitress blinks, taken aback by your sudden outburst, but she still has the audacity to smirk. “I was just being polite,” she says, her tone dripping with mock innocence. “no need to get all worked up, sweetie.”

sweetie? you rise from your chair, voice steady but filled with venom. “polite? is that what you call openly flirting with a married man in front of his wife? you must have a death wish, huh?”

she tries to respond, but you cut her off, hand grabbing her by the collar. your grip is relentless, eyes glaring at her with imaginable heat.

her eyes widen as she stares fearfully at you. meanwhile, satoru grins, leaning on the table, thoroughly amused and maybe even turned on, but you don’t notice.

your voice grows louder, sharper as you give her a piece of your mind. “let me make one thing crystal clear—I don’t share what’s mine.

and especially not with someone who clearly doesn’t know the meaning of respect. so, why don’t you do us all a favor and stop embarrassing yourself?”

but you don’t stop there.

“do you always throw yourself at customers, or is it just the ones you think will tip better? because let me tell you, my husband doesn’t need your desperate little attempts to impress him,” you sneer, letting go of her roughly, and she hits the ground with a loud thud.

satoru is sitting back now, clearly entertained, his lips twitching as he watches you. the waitress, however, is visibly flustered, her face turning bright red as she stammers, “m-mister gojo, are you going to let her—”

“let her?” satoru interrupts, chuckling softly. “oh, I would let her humiliate me personally. plus if anything, I’m enjoying this. but really, you’re wasting your time. my wife already has all my attention, love, affection, and everything in between.”

the waitress, finally realizing she’s cornered, mumbles a quick apology before practically sprinting away from the table, leaving the two of you alone in the now-silent restaurant.

you sink back into your chair, your chest heaving slightly from the adrenaline, but satoru reaches out and takes your hand, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

“you know,” he says, leaning in close, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper, “watching you go crazy like that? hottest thing I’ve seen all night.”

you roll your eyes, but a smirk tugs at your lips. “she had it coming.”

“definitely,” he agrees, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “so, what’s the plan for our next date? preferably somewhere with more waitresses for you to scare off.”

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss@pompompurin1028@scul-pted@requiem626k@nameless-shrimp@sonder-paradise@jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author

@libbyistired @anon1412@maehemthemisfit @satorustar @b4nka1@sad-darksoul@ko-fi-heart@pumpkindudeishere@suyaaachin@babyqueen17@chaosguy352@murakami-kotone@sukun4ryomen@yumieis@hearts4itoshi@sleepyxxhead@dunixxd@sleepycrybbylaiah @imjustaduckwholikesbread @emilyyyy-08@spacebaby1@arabellatreaty@viscade @washeduphasbeen @janbannan @sugurubabe @enidths @mwtsxri @peppersapro @uranosbaaee @lifeisadumpie @guacam011y @kurooandkenmasslut @callmemirro @your-sleeparalysisdem0n @dindjarins1ut @candy-s72 @lulumi1u

do not copy or plagiarize

check out my buy me a coffee!

#jjk x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo imagine #jjk imagines #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #satoru x you #satoru x reader #satoru x y/n #jjk x y/n #jjk gojo x reader #jjk gojo x you

2K notes · View notes

rafccameron · 2 months ago

Text

please, please, please : rafe cameron.

word count: 1.6k a / n: this is my first time writing in a while so please be kind. i just finished 4a of outer banks and have so much muse to write rafe right now so just wanted to get this out. warnings: alcohol use , drug mention , fluff , angst , mild physical violence , suggestive nudity(?). summary: y/n is a kook and rafe's ex but y/n still harbors alot of feelings for him and it shows. at kelce's summer bash, the two of you see one another and things seem alot more complicated than simply being exes.

you were a kook, in most ways atleast. both of your parents coming from figure eight, but they didn't raise you with the same distaste for kooks or anyone for that matter. you were raised to be kind and handle yourself and other's with a certain level of respect. you're friends often ragged on you for this but you stood your ground and most of them, respected that.

tonight, like most saturday nights you found yourself partying, kelce was throwing his annual summer bash and per usual anyone who was anyone was there. ruthie to your side as the two of you made your way out to the backyard. she'd been your friend since childhood, your families more like family than long time friends as this point and while you didn't agree with her on most things, the two of you managed to keep a solid friendship. somehow.

" bikini time , " she calls out to you , already shuffling out of her shorts. playfully rolling your eyes you follow suit. as your pulling your tank top over your head, your eyes land on him. your ex boyfriend, or fling, whatever he'd managed to degrade you down to when he was done with you. kicking your clothes off to the side, you glance over at ruthie.

" i need a shot, " you groan, before she can so much as say anything you're already headed inside toward the kitchen, " or three. "

leaned up against the counter as you wait for kelce to top off the shot glass he'd just pulled out for you, you can't help but to overhear a blonde not too far from you making a comment to her boyfriend. his dad's dead, his sister's a pogue now, and he's an absolute dick ... the cameron's really have fallen from grace. you down the shot handed to you, immediately turning on your heels to walk over to the blonde.

" have some respect maybe? " you can't help but stick up for a family that took you in as one of their own for so long, for the guy you cared so much about, no matter how frustrated seeing him here tonight made you.

" aw, y/n still sticking up for a guy who's never cared about you? " the blonde bites back, her boyfriend's smug grin enough to get your blood boiling.

" i just think it's pathetic to kick people while they're down, i know it's hard to grasp when you have literally nothing better to do with your life though. " you comment, keeping your voice calm somehow, " i'd recommend working on being a little nicer, my mother would never hire someone so nasty, " the blonde, grace, looks at you in shock as you hang her internship under your mother over her head. " have the night you deserve though, grace, " you manage to pull a semblance of a smile onto your face before walking off.

only halfway through your stride you collide with a body. their hand snaking around your waist to keep you steady, just as you peel yourself off from them his blue eyes come into your eye line.

" rafe... "

the smirk on his face says it all, he heard that whole thing and more obviously, he was on some mix of alcohol and coke. already.

" hi baby, " his words just quiet enough for only you to hear. the chills that reach your spine from the familiar greeting goes against everything you want your reaction to be. " don't call me that, i'm not your baby, " your tone as stern as you can possible manage.

" that sounded like you were, " he notes, one hand pulling his beer to his lips and the other pointing over in the empty space the couple was once taking up. his own smug grin basically forces you to nudge him slightly out of the way .

" shut up, rafe, " you huff, walking past him but before you can get very far you feel a hand wrap around your wrist. " hey, wait, " rafe's tone was soft something you were once far too familiar with. until it just kind of vanished one day.

" can we go talk somewhere? " his question enough to get a humorless laugh from you.

" now you want to talk? no, i'm not doing this right now. " you refused to let him worm his way back in or sweet talk you in anyway.

" just leave me alone, please. " you manage to get your arm out of his grasp and before he can make another attempt topper and kelce are pulling him away talking about some beer pong bet.

you spend the next couple of hours back with ruthie and the girls although you can't recall anything any of them have said, your mind only on one thing. it was always that way, he could go off and completely forget about you, while you stayed stagnant, stuck on him.

as the party starts to settle down you get up heading toward the guest room kelce had always kept free for you whenever he'd throw a party. a little wobbly as you made your way up the stairs, you weren't a lightweight persay but during a full night of drinking it was inevitable for the drinks to hit you at some point. bryce, a guy you went to school with at the academy notices you struggling up the stairs, coming up on the side of you and giving you a steady arm.

" hey, hey you good? " he asks, a kind smile spreading across his face. you just nod, pointing up toward the bedroom.

" heard ya, loud and clear, " he chuckles as he helps you up the stairs and toward the guest room you point toward.

" y/n, i'm gonna go grab you a water, okay? " he says as he settles you down onto the bed.

" the hell you are, " an all too familiar voice booms from the doorway. you manage to get a glimpse of rafe just over bryce's shoulder. he looked angry but that wasn't particularly anything new. " the fuck do you think you're doing? " his voice still raised as he pushes bryce away from you.

" stop, " you mumble, rubbing your hands over your face.

" what is he your new boyfriend or something? " rafe snaps at you, pushing at bryce again this time toward the door.

" chill, " he finally gives in and pushes rafe back.

" just get out, man " a taunting tone coming from rafe. before either of them can get another word out or another hit you stand up , " just get out, " you huff fed up with the show the two were putting on. bryce listens almost immediately with a shake of his head.

" i knew you didn't want him in here with you, baby, " rafe smiles as he closes the door and turns to you but as you plop down on the bed, glossy eyes looking up at him, " i meant you too, " you huff.

" what? " aggravation lacing his tone.

" rafe, you can't keep doing this ... " despite your words, you point toward the bag you brought up here earlier, for him to grab you your change of clothes. he follows your silent directions, you catch the smirk on his face as he pulls out your pajamas. they were his favorite ones when you two were together, a light blue satin short set with a pink frilly trim. " doing what? " he his voice going back to that soft tone you'd heard from him earlier in the night as he comes close to you, giving you a little tap on the leg as if to tell you he'd help you change. had you not been as drunk as you were you'd have turned down the offer but odds were you would struggle without his help. " acting like you care, " the hurt in your voice is clear, as you cover up your bare chest once he undoes your bikini top. he goes silent at your words, his bottom lip popping out as he gives you a slight nod. there's a silence the comes over the room as he continues to help you change, once you're fully clothes you pull yourself up further on the bed.

" i do care by the way, " he notes, sitting at the side of the bed as he pulls as strand of your hair out of your face.

" you don't, you never did. you, me and everyone else on this damn island know that. " you sigh, turning over so that your back is facing him now.

" let me prove it to you, " you can hear the smugness in his tone as he makes himself at home in the bed alotted for you, his hand playing with your hair and your far too exhausted to whack his hand away.

" why? so you show everyone how dumb i am again? " in any other situation your word would hurt the guy beside you but in this case you knew they hurt you more than they could every hurt him. atleast you'd convinced yourself of that.

rafe goes silent, his hands still running through your hair as you slowly start fall asleep and for a moment you could've swore you heard him whisper " i love you, baby. "

#rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron #obx fanfiction

797 notes · View notes

miryum · 6 months ago

Text

☆ 18+ minors dni ☆

College!Jason Todd who quite literally ran into you. It wasn’t his fault, in his defence, he was reading, but he thought he had mastered the art of walking and reading. Apparently not.

College!Jason Todd who apologised profusely, claiming it was all his fault even while you tried to convince him it was just as much your fault as well

College!Jason Todd who can’t help but notice that one of the books you’ve dropped is one of his favourites, leading him to exclaim, “you’re reading The Three Musketeers?”

College!Jason Todd who wasn’t quite sure how responded because while he was picking up the book for you, he caught glimpse of annotations and he couldn’t help but glance through them

College!Jason Todd who stuttered when you laughed lightly, noticing he wasn’t paying attention. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have looked, but I wanted to see your thoughts… that’s weird, isn’t it?”

College!Jason Todd who lit up when you beamed, a small blush reaching his cheeks when you replied, “no, no, it’s fine. I totally get it.”

College!Jason Todd who felt butterflies in his stomach when you suggested that he borrow your copy and give you his phone number to return it eventually

College!Jason Todd who wasn’t sure how a six foot grown man could get so excited about a girl he’d never met before. He wasn’t sure to thank his gods or hers that she had the courage to ask for his number

College!Jason Todd who learned years later that you were just as anxious as him during your first meeting. Thankfully, the words had come flying out of your mouth and before you could shrink into a hole and die, Jason had thankfully agreed

College!Jason Todd who goes back to his dorm and immediately begins reading the book, even though he’s read it three times already and has homework to do

College!Jason Todd who shushes his roommate, Roy, with a pillow chucked towards the head when Roy has the audacity to ask what he’s doing

College!Jason Todd whose heart beats faster whenever one of your annotations pops up and he gets to read your handwriting and thoughts

College!Jason Todd who adds his own annotations with small post-its as to not mess up your own, but wants so badly to exchange ideas

College!Jason Todd who finishes the book that night all the while Roy was groaning about Jason’s annoying reading light that was prohibiting his sleeping

College!Jason Todd who very unpatiently waits until morning to text you that the book was very very good and even better than he had remembered

College!Jason Todd who threw his phone across the room once he saw that you had responded. Roy scoffed loudly from his desk and Jason chucked yet another pillow at his roommate

College!Jason Todd who didn’t want to seem too desperate, but immediately agreed to meet up with you at the library when you offer it

College!Jason Todd who gets to the library twenty minutes early just to be prepared. You never know. So he gets there twenty minutes early. More like thirty. And maybe he brings the drink he saw you carry around campus yesterday

College!Jason Todd who is fine if he doesn’t get a word in edgewise about the book, satisfied to just stare at you as you gush about The Three Musketeers

College!Jason Todd who is also happy if you want to hear his thoughts and blushes and stammers his way through his analysis, worried about what you might think of him and also having a very hard time focusing when you look at him like that

College!Jason Todd who thinks he may melt when you turn bright red and bite your lip, trying to hide your smile, all because he annotated the book just for you

College!Jason Todd who then spends the next two hours in the library with you, trading recommendations and browsing the bookshelves

College!Jason Todd who gets to brace an arm above you, leaning on a bookshelf, smirking as you turn into a blushing mess

College!Jason Todd who definitely doesn’t visualise wrapping your legs around his waist and taking you against said bookshelf

College!Jason Todd who restrains himself because if you even knew half of what he was wanting, you’d run away screaming

College!Jason Todd who, after promising to meet up again, goes back to his dorm and takes a very cold shower

College!Jason Todd who meets up with you at least twice a week more like three times until the point where Roy demands that he just asks you out cause it’s been going on for way too long and if he doesn’t, then someone else will

College!Jason Todd who does so by underlining a passage in a romance novel that explains how his heart races whenever he looks in your direction, how he’d steal the sun if it meant he could see you smile, and how even if you rejected him, he’d be happy just to be in your presence

College!Jason Todd who, after pacing in front of your dorm for a while, then chickens out and leaves the book outside your door, the page bookmarked

College!Jason Todd who gets a call from you a while later and answers it like he didn’t just covertly ask you out through a fucking book

College!Jason Todd who, when you laugh lightly over the phone thinks his chances have died, until you agree in that lovely voice of yours to meet him at the library for an official date this time

College!Jason Todd who treats you like the gentleman he is for the next couple of dates before showing you how brutal he could be by fucking the living daylights out of you

College!Jason Todd who learns how his most favourite sound is your soft, incoherent whimpers as his hips slam into yours as he grips the headboard above you, scared that if he touched you, he would break you

College!Jason Todd who realises what can happen when he pinches your clit just so and how good it feels to have you come undone around him

College!Jason Todd who praises you on how good you took his big cock, whispering and cooing into your ear as both of you came down from your highs

College!Jason Todd who knows that all other women are ruined for him simply because of how you smiled sleepily at him whilst caged in his big arms and how your pussy clenched around him, but that’s not important

College!Jason Todd who proudly hooks an arm around your shoulders or waist whenever he can, strolling through campus with a smug smirk on his face, knowing he has the best girl by his side

College!Jason Todd who sees you at your highs and lows and shows you the exact same

College!Jason Todd who wouldn’t change anything, even when you’re close to collapsing at your desk, exhausted from finals

College!Jason Todd who wouldn’t change anything even when you’re on your period and your hormones are raging high and something either makes you start crying or start glaring at him over something he’s not quite sure about

College!Jason Todd who is just content to fall asleep next to you whenever he can and wake up with you in his arms

College!Jason Todd who knows your ins and outs, the slightest inflection of your tone, and the way your heart beats

College!Jason Todd who knows his heart beats just for you

College!Jason Todd who calls Bruce a couple weeks later, after months of no contact. He asks if he could bring you to a family dinner. A year or so later, he calls Bruce again, asking for his grandmother's ring

#miryum's dc universe #jason todd x reader #jason todd #jason todd x y/n #headcanon #college!jason todd #college au #college #we love jason todd #dc x reader #dcu #dc comics #x reader #jason todd didn't die #bruce wayne #roy harper

2K notes · View notes

anonymousicecream · 19 days ago

Text

Silence (Tzuyu x M Reader)

“Well, this is all for today, thanks for coming guys, see you next week!” Ms Chou said, before you grabbed my backpack and went home.

(At Home)

You were staring at your monitor, scrolling through your phone, staring at different womens on Instagram, all around or older than you. It got you surprised when you found a woman, around 5 years older than you, in your discover page, posting seductive posts, wearing black bras with short jeans. You took the chance to open her IG page, and head to the DMs, texting her.

“Hey cutie.” It didn’t take long before she replied to your message.

“Hey there.” The girl replied whilst you were brushing your teeth, ready to call it a night. You continued brushing your tooth and finished it before you returned to your bed, jumping and laying down on the bed.

“U busy?”

“Not really.. Why?”

“Well… I like your body, wanna see more of you baby.”

“Hmmmm….. Let’s trade, send me a dick pic and I’ll send you more of me, according to what I think of your dick.”

Your eyes widened at her message, noticing that she is willing to show more of her, for something “not too much”. You immediately took your pants out and looked at other pictures of her, stroking your dick while imagining her, to get yourself even harder.

Once hard, you took a picture of your dick and sent it to her instagram. Once sent, you put your pants back on and waited for her reply.

“Mmmhhhhh I love it.. 10/10 would fuck and recommend.” The girl said. Your cock immediately got hard seeing her message.

“Oh yeah? Now where’s your pic?”

It took a few minutes before you saw the two media messages she sent. The first one was a picture of her in her lingerie, while the second one was a video of her wearing a blindfold while she sucked a dildo and moaned.

“Fuck….”

“U like that, daddy?”

“Mhm… fuck, I need to meet you. Now. Wanna make you suck this cock.”

“Come to my place then daddy. Cheongdam-Dong Condos, unit 1204.”

(30 minutes later at her place)

You knocked on the door, nervously waiting for the girl to open the door. However, when the girl opened the door, the sight in front of you shocked you TO THE CORE.

“M…Ms Chou?” You stammered, watching her face also turn into a shock.

“M..Mr L/n?” Ms Chou answered.

“So, it is you.”

“Fuck you for making me horny.” She immediately pulled me into the unit, closing the door before she pushed me against the door.

She leaned in to kiss me, moving her lips on mine. I stood still, being shocked for a few moments, before I managed to respond, kissing her with the same pace. It took a few more moments before I took control and took the lead, inserting my tongue into her mouth before turning us around, letting her lean against the door.

“Bad, bad girl.” You said, moving your kisses to her neck.

“Mmmhhhh and what is daddy going to do about it?” She asked.

“Change into your raciest lingerie. I’ll be waiting on the bed.” You instructed, and she immediately nodded, pushing you off and grabbing lingerie from her closet, before going to change.

Meanwhile, I went into the bedroom, hanging my coat on the hanger, before an idea came to mind. I grabbed my phone and turned the video recorder on, putting it in the coat pocket, discreet enough to not get caught, but visible enough to capture the whole bed. You then remove your top and jeans, leaving you in your boxers as you wait for Ms Chou.

It took a few minutes before she came out, in a black lingerie with laces around her thighs and a lace bra and panties.

“So, what does daddy want me to do?” Ms Chou asks, walking seductively towards you.

“Daddy wants you to suck me.” You instructed.

“Okay daddy, and you can just call me Tzuyu.” With that, she went down on her knees in between your legs, rubbing her hands on your thighs, while playing with the bands of your boxers.

She didn’t wait longer to lower the bands, removing the boxers and exposing your hard cock. She spat on her hands, before rubbing her hands on your cock, stroking you hard and fast immediately, seemingly not wanting to waste time.

She then moved her mouth on your cock, starting to suck your cock slowly. She starts off with sucking your tip while stroking the rest of your cock. After a few moments, she didn’t hesitate to go deeper, sucking your cock even more. It took her a few more attempts before she sticks your whole cock in her mouth, feeling her tongue play with your cock, and feeling the tightness and warmth of her mouth.

“Fuck Tzuyu, faster, I love it.” She complies to your order, starting to suck you off even faster, helping you achieve your orgasm. You felt yourself getting closer, but before you could, you stopped her. You grab her up, her face seemingly confused, before you put her on the bed, laying her down on the bed.

“I wanna paint your lingerie.” You said, and you saw her lips turning into a smirk. She grabs your cock before she sucks you off again. You move your hands onto her bra cups, playing with them and feeling her nipples.

It didn’t take long before you lowered her cup, exposing her perky nipples. The way you played with them provoked her to suck you faster, getting you closer to your orgasm. She felt how your cock throbbed in her, making her throb even faster before she started stroking your cock faster, slapping them repeatedly against her nipples.

“Cum for me. Cum for me daddy. Paint me. Paint me daddy. Paint my tits and body with your cum daddy.” The last words she left made you peaked, moaning as your cum spurts onto her tits and body. “Mmmhhh yes daddy, cum on me, cum on, keep cumming.” Tzuyu’s moans are music to your ears as you continue cumming for her, before eventually stopping as your orgasm died down.

You watch as Tzuyu scoops up your cum, sucking them off her fingers. “Mmm, tasty.” Tzuyu didn’t forget to wink at you, instantly getting you to throb again. You immediately helped her to sit before you laid down on the bed. “Ride me.”

Tzuyu’s ears perked and her smile widened after hearing your words. She immediately hovered above you, grabbing your cock to stroke your shaft with your cum, using it as lube for her. “Faster.” Your words provoked Tzuyu to stroke your cock faster, getting it harder, before she aligns it with your cock, then lowering herself onto your cock. “Mmmhhhh fuck, that’s tight.” Your groan was covered by her moans, which were louder than you expected.

She wasted no time to start riding you, riding you fast and hard, letting her enjoy your huge cock, using it as her personal dildo. You rest your hands on her hips, using it to help control her pace in case she rides you too fast or too hard. To her surprise, you helped her get your cock deeper inside her, letting you feel the warmth and wetness her pussy provides. It came as a surprise when her hands grabbed yours, moving them to her tits.

You cupped them generously, letting yourself feel her large mounds, getting perkier after each touch. “Mmmhhhh yes daddy, fuck, like that, touch me more.” Soon enough, you used her tits as a handle to control how she rides you. At the same time, you also start thrusting up to her, meeting her downwards thrust, helping you get deeper inside her.

The effects were immediately felt, as you felt her g-spot, brushing against them repeatedly, and hitting them twice as well. This helped her release more of her juices, increasing the natural lube for your cock, helping you fuck her even faster. “I’m close…” Tzuyu’s words triggered something in you as you now thrust up and fuck her faster than before, bringing her to her impeding orgasm.

“AHHHH AHHH AAAAAH AAAAH AAAAH” Her moans match her orgasms, moaning loudly during each squirt, as she squirts hard onto your body, letting out her pent-up orgasm. As your cock leaves her pussy during her orgasm, you aggressively use your right hand to rub her nipples whilst your left hand is used to rub her clit and finger her pussy aggressively, intensifying the orgasm she’s going through.

“Fuck…Fuck daddy…. Fuckk….” Her moans got slower and slower as she came down from her orgasm, before she collapsed onto you.

You pushed her over onto the bed before you got up and flipped her up, putting her in doggy and facing her towards the large mirror, and more importantly, the camera. You align your cock with her pussy again, sliding it up and down off her pussy. “Just get on with it.” You thrust into her without warning, pushing the air out of her lungs from the shock, creating a loud moan from her. You did this again and again, forcing loud moans out of her before you got yourself into a rhythmic thrust. You put your hands on her hips, using them to control her positions, allowing you to steadily fuck her, letting you feel all of her.

“F-Fuck I’m close again.” “Me too. Let’s cum.” You yanked her hair backwards and controlled it like a ponytail, using it to help her thrust backwards onto your cock. She grabs your hand to start playing with her body, rubbing her pussy and tits repeatedly, helping her get even closer to her orgasm, and yours too. You knew how close you were, so you thrust hard and fast a few times before you thrust deep into her, sending your seed deep into her pussy. “YES!” Her body shook as she felt your load shoot inside her, feeling the warm and thick cum deep inside of her pussy.

(Later that night)

You sent her the sex video of the two of you, most importantly with your face being blurred out, and highlighting her face, with the note “Stay silent.”

#kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop gg #kpop smut #male reader #kpop imagines #twice #twice smut #tzuyu twice #tzuyu smut #chou tzuyu

477 notes · View notes

mypoisonedvine · 1 year ago

Text

𝖇𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖉𝖘𝖕𝖔𝖙𝖘 | professor!jonathan crane x batgirl!reader

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞 | it can be difficult, living a double life: spending your days as a scholarship student at gotham university, and your nights as batgirl, the legendary heroine, fighting alongside batman and robin. though it proves to take a toll on you mentally and physically, flunked term papers and missed lectures will be the least of your problems when you encounter the scarecrow somewhere in the shadowy alleyways of gotham...

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙 | 7k

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 | NONCON SMUT (18+ only; violent/rough sex, use of fear toxin, degradation, semi-public sex/exhibitionism, bondage), professor/student dynamic (therefore implied age gap), some angst and depiction of ptsd/aftermath, reader is dating robin/tim drake

“And so,” Professor Crane continued, looking towards the class from the board, chalk in hand, "this triggers the fear response, and all that comes with it. You're probably familiar with the symptoms of fear: heart rate increase, cold sweat, overall heightened arousal."

A few giggles could be heard at that, and he rolled his eyes.

"Not that sort of arousal, necessarily," he frowned.

Everyone else just brushed off the childish humor of the moment, but you narrowed your eyes, getting a sense that the word necessarily was doing a lot of heavy lifting in that sentence.

He returned to his lecture, drawing lines in chalk over his crude diagram of the human brain, explaining how each area of the brain contributed to fear and the fight-or-flight response. As he spoke, you re-read the handout he’d given today— and you chewed on your lip absent-mindedly as you reviewed the bibliography.

"Dr. Crane?" you raised your hand, interrupting his lecture mid-sentence. "I had a question about some of the studies you reference here."

"Yes?" he returned, turning to face you with a slightly confused expression.

"Well you cite a paper out of Berkeley from 2002, to support the conclusion that exposure therapy is the best response to aggressive phobias— however, if you actually read the paper—"

"I read the paper, Miss," he interrupted sternly.

"Then, if you actually understood the paper," you continued, a few students gasping and laughing softly at your insubordination, "then you would see that the conclusions indicate the perceived decrease in fear response comes at the expense of long-term stability. Don't you think that negates any positive implications?"

The silence in the room was tense: everyone was waiting for how he would respond to your critique. Instead, he just smiled at you slightly. "I think you may have more context for how research is conducted, and reevaluate your conclusions, when you get a chance to organize your own research— in about a decade."

"Actually, Professor, I'll be leading my own experiment this quarter," you corrected, just as he was about to turn away from you and keep lecturing. "I'm the recipient of the Wayne Enterprises Collegiate Scholarship— which pays for my education here and also comes with a fifty thousand dollar research grant."

“Ah,” he said, bitterness dripping from his tone as he set his hands on the desk and leaned forward a bit. “May I ask what topic you hope to explore with your research?”

“Crime,” you explained, “and criminal behavior.”

“Hm,” he nodded, frowning slightly in an impressed sort of way, taking his weight off the desk. “And it doesn’t bother you that you’re here studying psychology?”

You lowered your brow, confused by his question. “I’m sorry?”

“Criminology is a subfield of sociology, which is related to but distinct from psychology,” he explained.

“Would you recommend that I switch majors, Doctor?” you asked simply.

“Well, it’s no secret that you’ve set the curve on our last two exams,” Dr. Crane smiled, tilting his head slightly. “So, no— I think I’d rather keep you here.”

You straightened up slightly, taken aback by his wording.

“Plus, while you’re still in my department,” he continued, “I have a better chance of talking some sense into you.”

With that, he returned to teaching, and you noticed how the other students were watching you before you sighed and tried to listen to the rest of class.

You caught up with him on a long stretch of hallway, just as he stepped up to his office door. “Professor!” you got his attention, and he turned to you with a slightly smug look as he held his hands together.

“Ah, yes,” he greeted, “I see you’re here to apologize for how you spoke to me in class today?”

You knew he didn’t actually expect that, he knew better after having you under him for the last two quarters— um, so to speak. “Just as soon as you do,” you offered with a smirk in return, shifting your weight on your hip.

That was what moved your button-down slightly, and his eyes drifted down to your neck— when they did, confusion and concern suddenly painted his expression. “My,” he gasped a little, pulling on the collar of your shirt with one finger to expose a healing scrape on your chest; his fingertip brushed over your skin and the golden chain of your necklace, and you jumped away slightly. “How’d you get that?”

“It’s nothing—” you blurted out, blinking quickly, “I tripped, on campus, actually.”

“That wonky step up to the Commons?” he assumed. “I’ve filed two complaints about that loose brick…”

“Yes,” you agreed quickly, smiling. “Yeah, I wasn’t looking where I was going, and I didn’t catch myself well while holding my books—”

“Hm,” he nodded back, “that’s a shame. A girl as smart as you, forgetting the Commons building doesn’t have brick steps— or steps at all, in fact.”

You swallowed thickly, glancing away.

“You sure were eager for an explanation, though,” he smiled. “How’d you really get such a nasty scrape? It does look like concrete, but I’m guessing it didn’t happen on campus—”

“It’s no matter,” you assured.

“It wasn’t that boyfriend of yours, was it?” he pressed. “Mr. Drake, as I recall?”

“Wha— no!” you gasped.

“He’s not your boyfriend?”

“Well, he is,” you explained, “but he didn’t—”

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” Crane offered, lowering his voice slightly.

“Of course,” you sighed, “but there’s nothing to tell. Things are fine with Tim, I promise.”

“He shared your interest in criminal studies, didn’t he?” Professor Crane recalled. “Clearly, he didn’t share your scholarly aptitude, though, seeing as he’s dropped out.”

“H-he was smart enough,” you justified, “he left because of stress.”

“Ah,” the Professor nodded, “and he doesn’t take that stress out on you at all?”

“C’mon, Professor, Tim’s a good person,” you promised.

“I’m inclined to agree,” Crane replied, “but it’s the ones that act the kindest that have the most to hide, isn’t it?”

You knew there was another meaning to that statement, but there were so many possibilities that you couldn’t settle on one.

“You understand that if I suspect anything, I’m required to alert our student wellness services,” he reminded you. “They’ll have a counselor reach out to you—”

“Listen, Dr. Crane— I didn’t come here to speak to you about my personal life,” you reminded him, “I wanted to ask you about my performance in the class so far, in your opinion.”

He paused before sighing in relent. “I’m a little concerned, actually,” he admitted, “about your most recent paper.”

He pulled it from the folder under his arm and handed it back to you— covered in red ink. You blinked at him, biting your lip in confusion. “I thought these wouldn’t be returned until—”

“I worked on yours first,” he explained quickly, even though that explanation only brought more questions than answers. “It’s still very strong, but it’s not what I expect from you at this point. It feels rushed.”

Rushed— yeah, I remember this one. I wrote it all the night it was due because I spent the three days before recovering from that fight with Falcone’s thugs at the docks—

“I’ll let you rewrite it,” he offered, “if you can get it back to me before I return the rest of your classmates’ work.”

You laughed a little, looking at the paper in front of you, and Crane knitted his brows together. “You know, Professor, sometimes I can’t tell if I’m your favorite student, or your most hated.”

He smiled a little, glancing down briefly at the floor in a sort of self-effacing way. “I don’t have favorites,” he assured, unconvincingly. “You’re not my best student, or my worst— you’re an entirely different kind of student. You’re nothing like those other… juvenile, moronic co-eds looking in the exact wrong place for an easy A.”

Your eyes widened a little, seeing the way he let a little irritation— disdain, really— paint his tone. He snarled a bit as he spoke, his nostrils flaring; like he was holding it back, how much resentment he really had for your classmates.

As quickly as it came, he seemed to shake it off, and then he smiled again… but it was tight, and forced, you could see that just as easily. “You challenge me,” he finished quickly. “I appreciate that as much as I detest it.”

You smiled back, somewhat genuinely despite the icky feeling that suddenly wiggled in your stomach. “I suppose I feel the same way,” you admitted.

He opened his mouth, hesitating slightly, before tilting his head the other way and starting over. “Could you come into my office for a minute?” he asked suddenly, a strange glimmer in his eyes behind the thin silver glasses. “I’d like to show you my latest work— I think you’ll find it quite intriguing…”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a ring of keys and started to unlock his office door, and you didn’t feel too excellent about it.

Just then, a group of students walked by, and you heard them talking amongst each other as one looked at a text message on her phone. “Oh my god,” one said as she explained to those around her, “my friend’s at the bank right now— she said someone’s holding up the place…”

“What?” another student asked, and you tilted your head a bit to hear them better.

“Yeah, the one on Main and 57th? The police aren’t there yet— she said they have guns…”

Your heart started to race. Sounds like a job for Batgirl.

Crane was in his own world, though, about to open the door. “Maybe I can even convince you to change some of your conclusions about the study of fear,” he posited.

You stepped back, motivated to leave just as much by a strange suspicion of Professor Crane as the opportunity to stop the nearby bank robbery. “I-I have to go,” you said, before you’d thought of a good excuse— and that hadn’t gone well for you last time, but hopefully he wasn’t going to quiz you on campus architecture again to trip you up.

He looked confused, a little sad even, as he turned to you again. “This won’t take long,” he promised, “I’d just like to show you—”

“Sorry,” you blurted out as you kept backing up, “I gotta… you know, um… buy tampons.”

Hoping something that awkward would get him to stop asking questions, you turned on your heel and darted off down the hall, looking for the best way off campus and to a secluded spot where you could pull your Batgirl get-up out of the false compartment in your bag and get to work.

“I don’t like you going out there alone,” Bruce said flatly, not looking up from his hands clasped in his lap.

“Wow, really?” you rolled your eyes, feigning surprise. “News to me.”

“You’re too young, and it’s dangerous,” he continued anyway.

“Doing all the greatest hits tonight, huh?” you smirked. “Next you’ll say you need to keep up your identity better, study hard so no one suspects you and then finish it off with don’t touch the Batmobile.”

He sighed and shook his head. “You can touch it, you just can’t drive it.”

“Right,” you agreed flatly, sighing as you adjusted in your spot on the couch. You’d taken up shop here in the Wayne Manor private library: something about your interaction with Professor Crane yesterday made you want to study off-campus for the afternoon…

You knew Bruce had a point about working alone— you didn’t really want to be alone, you were certainly safer when you had Batman by your side. The problem was that you were too safe… Bruce protected you so well that he hindered you; you’d accused him of wanting you to just stay behind and patch him up after fights rather than actually helping. He denied it, obviously, but actions speak louder than words— and there was such a difference in the way he treated you and Robin was obvious.

In fact, that itself had driven a wedge between you and your boyfriend— one of many reasons Bruce had implored you both not to get involved in that way, but it was sort of unavoidable. You can only do such high intensity, high pressure work alongside someone for so long before the tension is too much to bear…

Then again, that very tension that made your relationship with Tim threatened to break it, and you knew that— you felt that, even now, as he looked at you with a sympathetic sort of stare. You cleared your throat and focused on your book again.

“Please don’t go out without us again,” Tim asked— softer, sweeter, lacking that father-figure-sternness Bruce was always trying to muster.

“I think the people in that bank are pretty happy that I did,” you replied with a snarky smile.

“We were on our way—” Bruce began.

“It was a one man job!” you insisted.

“There were seven men on that heist team— and two more parked outside,” Bruce explained, getting more frustrated as this discussion continued. “It doesn’t matter. We work as a team.”

“Except when you go out alone,” you reminded him.

“I’ve been doing this longer,” he explained, standing up, “I’ve been doing it better, and I’ve been doing it on my own since you were still in high school.”

“Then why did you take me in?” you returned sharply, knitting your brows together in confusion and frustration. “Why did you train me, why did you bring me here and tell me the truth?”

“Because I saw your potential,” he answered as he began to walk away, “not because you’re ready to save the whole fucking world by yourself.”

You shook your head in frustration— almost disbelief, except of course he would do this— as Bruce shut the door behind him. Conversation didn’t go his way, he just left— that was normal. Ironic, for a man who interrogated criminals on the street almost daily.

“He’s right,” Tim informed you after a pregnant pause, and you glared at him.

“Would you excuse me? I have to study,” you explained sharply as you motioned to the textbooks and notepads laid out on the table, as you’d had them before you were interrupted by these two, “because apparently the best thing Batgirl can do is not be Batgirl.”

“Hey,” Tim sighed, “he doesn’t mean it like that… he just wants you to keep focusing on your studies, that’s all.”

“I just think it’s funny—” you began.

“I bet it’s not gonna be very funny,” Tim noticed with a frown.

“— that Bruce thinks it’s so important that I keep my grades up so nobody knows what I’m doing at night— so nobody knows that I’m not getting any goddamn sleep— but you got to drop out and that apparently wasn’t going to make anybody suspicious?” you noticed. “You know, I had a professor ask me about you today— wondering what was up with you leaving so suddenly. Why is nobody worried about that?”

“We worry about you because we care about you,” he explained.

You tossed your books aside, standing up to face Tim properly. “That’s bullshit,” you spat.

“You think I don’t care about you, seriously?” he asked.

“I know you care about me, but you don’t respect me,” you explained, “neither of you do. You two go off and do what you want, you’d rather me be your nurse than actually be out there— when you know damn well that you need me!”

“I need you,” Tim promised, “in so many ways. That’s why I can’t let anything happen to you—”

“Well, things need to happen to me sometimes! Isn’t that what life is, things happening to you?!” you laughed exasperatedly. “I mean, shit, why do I go to school at all? Why don’t you guys just lock me at the top of Wayne Tower and I’ll never ever leave and you can just climb up my hair when you wanna come visit!”

“Christ,” Tim groaned, “you are so fucking ridiculous sometimes— what are you trying to prove? Why do you need to be out there every night beating up bad guys, whether Bruce tells you to or not?”

Instead of answering that, you simply accused: “He obviously likes you better than me.”

“Is that really what this is about? You want Bruce to like you?!” Tim scoffed. “Are you that shallow?”

“I want him to trust me!” you clarified. “I want him to understand what I’m capable of!”

“You know what you’re capable of,” he replied, grabbing your shoulders. “I know. Is that not enough?”

You let out a long breath, looking down at the floor.

“I love you,” Tim sighed— but it didn’t sound very sweet when he said it like that, it sounded sad.

“I love you too,” you replied instinctively, but it felt oddly hollow leaving your lips.

“Please,” he breathed as he pressed his forehead to yours, “please stay safe. You’re stronger than me, you can take a lot more than I can.”

You were about to ask him what he meant by that, since you both knew he was physically stronger and more resilient than you, walking away from fights that could’ve put you in a stretcher. But before you could ask, he spoke again.

“My heart can only take so much.”

But that only proved your point, though you didn’t tell him out loud: that what him and Bruce wanted you to do had nothing to do with your strength, and everything to do with their weakness.

In your defense, you took the night off.

But the next night, you had to get out there— Bruce and Tim told you to stay behind so Batman and Robin could go save the day, and you? You were holding down the fort, keeping the couch warm. What a fucking waste; there was more evil in this city than two men could purge— there was more for you to do. As tempting as it was to meet them at the rendezvous location they’d figured out and try to help clear out the gangsters there buying an illegal weapons shipment, you knew that would just lead to the same fight again. This time, the plan was to go out, kick some criminal ass, come back, and leave Bruce none the wiser.

You scanned police radios patiently, waiting for just the right thing— small enough to fix on your own, big enough to matter. You wished, sometimes, that you had less to choose from…

Units respond, units respond — 10-79 reported at West Main and 88th.

Bomb threat. That felt manageable, and you were pretty handy with defusal in case that threat had any credibility. You turned off the radio and stood up, looking down over the city from your vantage point on a highrise fire escape. It was beautiful, in its grimy Gotham way: a light rainfall coated everything in a fuzzy static like old film; it made the concrete reflect the neon lights a little clearer, the whole skyline sort of slick and steamy.

Running and jumping to the next roof, you made a path to your destination and navigated the city unseen, like any good Bat-person would.

You were nearly there when you stopped on a roof above an abandoned manufacturing plant— well, that’s the thing, it wasn’t as abandoned as you thought. There was a glass sunroof, and even though it was dark and rainy, the light inside brought your attention to a group of men inside. Not to profile or anything, but 4 bald guys with guns standing around is usually a good sign that someone’s up to no good…

Trying to get a better look at what was going on inside, you carefully lifted one of the glass panels and slipped inside, sneaking around the metal scaffolding as the sound of the rain was muffled and replaced with distance, echoing voices.

You crouched in the rafters, watching with narrowed eyes as the group of men faced against a figure you couldn’t make out with the shadows and pillars in the way.

“So, are we good for this deal, or what?” the leader of the group asked.

A modulated, deeper voice answered: “This is half of what we agreed.”

“My team had some… road bumps, trying to bring this to you,” the man explained, stepping forward slightly. “We lost some of the compound. This is what we’re offering, take it or leave it.”

“I’ll take it,” the shadowy figure agreed. “How much for what’s left?”

“The same price we discussed.”

“For half the amount? How does that work?”

“It’s a flat rate,” the smuggler— that’s what he must have been, right?— explained with a smug smirk. “In fact, I should charge you more— call it hazard pay, for what my men had to go through to get this here.”

“I see,” the deeper voice replied. “How about this: I kill all of you, and take it.”

Your eyes widened; isn’t this guy alone? He’s sure got some balls…

The group of men paused before beginning to laugh. “You?” the leader repeated. “This skinny guy in the suit is gonna kill all of us?”

“I can do worse than that— I’ll make you beg for me to kill you.”

Feeling the tension of this discussion reach its breaking point, you realized you needed to intervene now: leaning over to make sure you had the right spot under you, you took the grappling hook off of your belt and pointed it down.

Firing it with a metallic whooshing sort of sound, the device grabbed one of the men and yanked him up into the shadows of the ceiling with you. Everyone on the ground looked up in shock and fear, pointing their guns aimlessly into the darkness. Before he could even really react to what had just occurred, you dropped the man back down— onto one of his friends, of course, which incapacitated them both but saved him from a much worse fate than if he’d landed on that concrete warehouse floor.

“What the fuck?” the leader of the group yelled as he tried to fire indiscriminately up at you— but you were already running along the steel beam, following one of the men as he tried to make a dash for the exit.

A blast from your long-distance taser gun brought him to the ground instantly, and as the last one left searched for the source of your attacks, you jumped down to the ground just behind him, landing in a crouched position. As soon as he’d turned around to face you, you’d grabbed a loose metal pipe from nearby and hit him over the head with an oddly-satisfying bong noise.

You knew the other man was still somewhere in the dark nearby, and you called out for him: “Whoever you are, stop hiding in the shadows: that’s kinda my thing,” you informed him.

He stepped forward in the cool, gray light: a man in a torn and tattered suit, with a burlap mask that had massive stitches like scars. Batman had just warned you about this guy, what was his name again?

"My," he purred with pleasant shock, his voice clearly deepened electronically by something in that sack on his head. "If it isn't Batgirl. Nice outfit, very… shiny."

"Yours looks pretty rough," you noticed.

He shrugged. "It does the job."

You smiled back, remembering finally who you were dealing with. "Not with me. I'm not scared of you, Scarecrow."

"You will be," he promised.

You swung first, a roundhouse kick right at his head, but he ducked and came back up at you— he tried to grab you but you slipped away.

Instead of going after you again, he ran— grabbed one of the suitcases off of the palette nearby, whatever this ‘shipment’ was, and bolted for the door into the alleyway. You almost laughed, impressed that he thought he could outrun you, but then again this was the guy who threatened to kill four armed men straight to their face.

You chased him right out the door, but as you dashed into the alley behind the manufacturing plant— the one that faced the northern street— you learned a moment too late that he hadn’t run at all, but was waiting for you there.

He sprayed something in your face, and you coughed as a cloud of vapor filled your lungs. You assumed it was pepper spray at first, but it didn't burn— actually, it smelled a little sweet, sort of herbal. But the effects were almost instantaneous, the pounding in your chest and the sinking feeling in your gut, the world spinning around you.

The fear response: heart rate increase, cold sweat, overall heightened arousal.

Instantly you felt old memories rushing in— awful, horrifying ones, and even worse than you remembered them. For a moment, there was fear with no real object, just the feeling… until he grabbed your face and forced you to look at him, at the wicked mask that seemed impossibly close— that seemed like it could swallow you whole. You screamed, trying to turn away or shut your eyes or something, but nothing assuaged the terror.

"Please," you sobbed. "Make it stop! Please!"

“Nothing can stop it now,” his voice returned— even rougher and darker than before, the deep bass of it making you shiver. “This is who you are. Give in to the fear.”

If nothing else, he had a point that fighting it wasn’t proving very useful— but giving in meant letting the world collapse in on you, letting the darkness pull you back… the darkness you’d fought so hard to make into an ally was becoming your enemy again.

He grabbed your mask and tugged it away; even overwhelmed with primal terror, enough logic remained for you to reach up and try to cover your face.

But he simply grabbed your hands and shoved them away. You heard a laugh behind that horrible mask, just before he suddenly took it off.

The toxin changed his face, too— his smile was wider and his teeth sharper, his eyes totally black— and you couldn't recognize him at first. Only when he addressed you by name did you finally put it together; "Professor Crane?" you realized with a horrified gasp.

"I imagine you haven't finished rewriting that paper yet?"

"Oh god," you sobbed, "you— you're— how can you do this?"

You struggled against him again, but he held you back effortlessly. “I said I liked you because you’re a challenge,” he remembered with a laugh. “But out here, you’re no challenge at all. Just a stupid little girl in a mask.”

He slapped you hard across the face, making you stumble even more as you lost your balance, colliding with the damp black asphalt.

He descended onto you, turning you on your back when you tried to hide your face in your arm as an escape from the terrifying visions. “I’ve been waiting for a chance to put you in your place,” he admitted with a growl as he started to pull your armored clothes off of you roughly. “You act a little too fearless for my liking… good to know it’s all an act.”

You cried, shaking and flailing beneath him, but you couldn’t actually put up a fight like this— the darkness throbbed around you, shadows reaching out to pull you into their abyss. “Please,” you begged again, “no! Stop, please!”

You weren’t even sure yourself if you were talking to him or to the hallucinated, anthropomorphized energy in the dark, but neither stopped. He struggled at times to get your clothes off, they weren’t exactly designed to come off quickly but you shuddered violently from the cool night air when your chest was exposed. You heard a deep growl from him, and you whimpered loudly as his hands ran over your skin. “What are you so scared of?” he asked, sounding amused— but in your mind, those hands were claws that could shred you to pieces at any moment, and you breathed so fast that your chest just spasmed and quaked. “I think you’ve been needing this for a while…”

He roughly turned you onto your stomach, face down against the street, and started to tug down your pants. You were too scared to even beg him to stop, to try to bargain or reason with him— you just shuddered and cried, hiding your face and hoping for relief from the dread.

He smacked you on your bare ass, once it was exposed, and chuckled to himself at your whine in response. The next thing you heard was the sound of a belt opening, a zipper unzipped…

Was it the toxin that made you afraid he would rip you in half, when he pressed his erection against your thigh? Or was that just common sense?

You grimaced when you heard him spit into his hand, but it fell into a whining cry as he pushed his tip against your opening. With your pants only down to your knees, you couldn’t even spread your legs at all, making you feel even more like there was no chance he could fit. The sick, anxious fear felt a little different now— maybe not as strong, but mostly just something new… something deeper and subtler and heavier. It wasn’t visions of monsters or memories of suffering, it was just this inevitable violation and the sureness that you were completely helpless.

He pushed his hips forward sharply, making you scream out and instantly reach back to try to grab his hips and push them away. He ignored it and kept going forward with a low groan. “Mm, you can take it,” he promised gruffly. “Fucking take it.”

You cried as he put a hand on your shoulders, keeping you pressed down painfully into the ground, as he slid the rest of the way in.

It stung, it stretched you in an awful way and went far too deep… but you were wet, you could feel it. Overall heightened arousal… not that sort of arousal, necessarily. He obviously noticed as well, growling a bit. “You like this, hm?” he accused.

“N-no,” you managed to slur, but it was hard to even breathe with his weight pressing you down. You pushed back harder against his thighs through his undone trousers, but he growled and grab your hand to pin it down above your head. He brought the other up beside it, and quickly pulled his belt out from the loops to tie around your wrists. “Professor,” you pleaded under your breath, feeling your warm tears mix with the cold rain on the ground.

But he was already inside you, it was too late for that— and with your hands conveniently out of the way, he breathed heavy as he started to pull back and shove back in.

There was no build-up after that, he just fucked you as hard and fast as he wanted with no regard for how you cried and struggled under him. He grabbed your hair and forced your head back awkwardly as you sobbed.

“Say my name,” he ordered, apparently irritated by the title of ‘Professor’ — but you didn’t know for sure if he wanted to be addressed as Jonathan or Scarecrow, and you feared the consequences if you chose incorrectly.

Still, you blurted out the first thing that came to mind: “J-Jonathan,” you spat out hoarsely, and he grinned happily before dropping you back onto the ground. You struggled against the belt around your wrists— not actually expecting to get out of it, and not having any plan if you did, just mainly out of instinct. All it did was dig the sharp edge of the leather into your skin, making you cry harder.

It rocked you back and forth on the ground, those rough thrusts— the friction inside you was hot and fast, and each time he slammed all the way in, you heard the clapping of skin on skin and felt his tip ram against the deepest places inside you. You didn’t even realize it was possible to be bruised inside like that, but you knew you would be by the end of this.

He didn’t slow down, really, but he changed his rhythm slightly and found an angle to go even just a bit deeper into you, until you whined pathetically with every pump into you. It seemed like the toxin was wearing off, in that you weren’t seeing things anymore, but there was still obviously a sick feeling in your stomach, and an unreliable beating in your chest, and a deep throbbing in your ears.

“You’re getting even wetter,” he noticed with a low chuckle, and you whimpered as you hoped not to have to acknowledge that. “Fucking soaking me— poor girl, I don’t think you can help it…”

At least it made this hurt a little less, but no amount of wetness could prevent him from holding your hips painfully tight and fucking you so forcefully it seemed hateful. You whined loudly with every movement, fingers curling into shaky fists even when it was useless with his belt restraining you.

When you turned your face to the side, you saw figures at the other end of the alley— not hallucinations, nothing scary, just passersby on the street— and you reached out for them instinctively as hope flooded your chest. Blinking the tears from your eyes, you could see them clearer: a man and woman, older, well-dressed. “P-please,” you croaked out in a broken voice, “please, help me— call the police—”

They heard you, and they turned and looked at you, only to grimace and turn away; the man pulled his date closer, shuffling her away with him as they kept walking. You whimpered pathetically, and Crane laughed above you. “That’s Gotham for you,” he mused. “No one wants to get involved. These are the people Batgirl wants to save?”

They weren’t the only ones who saw, either; later, a small crowd of young men in bandanas and baggy pants passed by— some of them looked young enough to still be in high school. You prayed to anything that would listen that they would move along without noticing, but one of them saw and pointed at you two with a scoffing laugh. Feeling as if you could throw up, you shut your eyes tight and heard the chorus of jeers as they realized what they were seeing. They laughed and hollered; what the fuck, dude! and ohh shit and hey, she’s pretty hot declared in juvenile voices between raunchy chuckles. You saw flashes of light when you blinked your eyes— were they taking pictures of this with their phones? You wondered if Jonathan would be forced to stop them, if he was concerned about evidence, but he didn’t react at all… he didn’t even slow down.

Once they’d gotten an eyeful and the sight had lost its shock, they wandered away— you could still hear their voices echoing around the buildings for a moment until it all faded in with the ambient sounds of the city: sirens, horns, footsteps, and that perpetual Gotham drizzle.

“I can feel it,” he whispered to you suddenly, “it keeps squeezing me. Such a needy fucking cunt.”

You didn’t know if the ‘cunt’ was referring to your anatomy or to you as a person, and either option made your throat a little dry— but dryness was the least of your problems between your legs, in fact you were pretty sure you were dripping now, you could feel how slippery and sticky you’d become. Your thighs were coated, it was even running down over your swelling and neglected clit.

He lowered himself a bit, resting his arms beside your head and breathing close to your ear. He even brushed some of your hair out of the way with his hand, wanting to get a better look at your face, and you shut your eyes.

Increasingly loud groans and sighs above you made you realize what was about to happen, just as much as the throbbing feeling inside you.

“F-fuck,” he let out in a scratchy voice. “Fuck!”

You whimpered yourself just as you heard him choke out a sort of high-pitched, shaky moan, and his thrusts went from erratic and desperate to slower and uneven. He twitched inside you, and you felt the flood of heat in impossible contrast to the cold ground under you.

“God…” he groaned, his hand on your shoulder tightening and digging a little too deep into your skin. Then he laughed a little as he finally came to a stop— breathless, light, almost making him sound impressed. With you or himself, it’s hard to say; it sounded like a laugh of relief.

A lump formed in your throat as you considered what you were supposed to do now— he’d just come inside you, raw, and it made your stomach sink (but it made your walls clench unexpectedly, too). As he carefully pulled out, you whimpered at the way it reawakened the sting of his first entrance— especially when he first pushed inside. He sighed heavily when he finally got himself out of you completely, and then his hands— hot, a little clammy, and strong— came into view to free your aching wrists from his belt.

He stood up over you, and you heard him readjust his trousers before zipping them up and putting back on his belt. “Was it good for you?” he asked with a quiet, but smug, chuckle.

Bringing your hands nearer to press against the ground, you tried to lift yourself up on shaking arms. When your torso was only a few inches off the pavement, Jonathan put his polished shoe on your back between your shoulder blades and pushed you back down. You whimpered as he looked down at you, tilting his head while he admired your helpless form.

“Stay down,” he ordered.

Finally taking his foot off of you, he picked his mask up from the ground, sighing as he shook some of the raindrops off of it and put it back on.

“Well,” he began with a sigh, his voice modulated by the sack over his head again, “I’ll see you in class. I look forward to seeing what you do with that paper.”

You didn’t watch him leave; you just heard the warehouse door shut again. Your eyes were looking blankly forward, blinking away stinging tears, looking at the way the neon lights of the buildings across the street reflected in the puddles on the ground.

You jolted, much more than necessary, when someone knocked on the bathroom door; it made the water in your bath ripple, though the fluffy white surface of the bubbles was hardly disturbed. “Can I come in?” you heard Bruce’s voice.

“Yeah,” you answered, but he stopped when he opened the door.

“You’re not decent,” he noticed, turning away.

“There’s bubbles everywhere, you can’t see anything,” you sighed, and he stepped the rest of the way in. A pause that both of you pretended wasn’t awkward occurred.

“Tim told me that you came back roughed up,” he said eventually.

You said nothing.

“I told you not to—” he began.

“I know.”

He sighed; you kept staring forward at the white tile wall in front of you. "What happened?" he asked simply.

“I know Tim told you already— two guys, probably Falcone’s— they went at me in a tunnel by the Southside,” you explained with a sigh. “I was just following a stolen van, I didn’t know who took it— I would’ve called you if I knew. I just wanted something I could handle on my own.”

You knew the story didn’t add up; Falcone’s men would’ve probably given you a black eye, maybe a broken nose, and bruises on your stomach from kicks and punches. Instead what you had were concrete scrapes on your cheek, fingerprint-sized bruises on your hips and thighs, and thin abrasions all around your wrists. Not to mention the jitters and auditory hallucinations from working Crane’s toxin out of your system— his voice, still in your ear: just a stupid little girl in a mask. You’d stopped looking over your shoulder by now, but your heart still raced every time.

You knew the story didn’t add up, but you knew it didn’t matter, because Bruce was going to buy it. He wasn’t ready to imagine the truth yet. This time, when you heard Crane’s voice, it wasn’t a hallucination but a memory: you sure were eager for an explanation.

Bruce nodded and began to walk out of the bathroom. “Alright,” he said. “Rest up.”

You scoffed to yourself as he left quietly— for a detective, he still had a few blindspots. Surely, we all do.

Left alone in the bathroom again, you were surrounded by silence once more. In silence, it was easier to hear his voice in your ear. Just a stupid little girl in a mask.

The shrill sound of your cell phone startled you, and you awkwardly leaned out of the tub just far enough to grab it off of the pile of towels you'd left it on.

"Hello?" you answered, irritation obvious in your tone.

“Hello, ma’am, this is Tracy from the Gotham University Student Wellness Center,” the sweet, lilting voice came from the other end of the line. “We recently received notice of concern that you may be experiencing domestic violence. We’d love for you to come into our office to discuss this and receive complementary counseling, when’s a good time that we could—?”

You hung up and tossed the phone away, sinking down into the water.

#cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy x reader #scarecrow smut #scarecrow x reader #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane dark fic

4K notes · View notes

kinnieys · 3 months ago

Text

NSFW CONTENT ᵕ̈♡˳೫˚∗

˳೫˚∗warnings: toji is called "sir", choking, pet names, protected sex, virginity loss, spitting kink(?), belly bulge.

˳೫1k words~

ᴛᴜᴛᴏʀ !?

you were a fresh university student, new to everything, stressed... it's not like you failed anything! but history. well, if you keep up with those unsatisfying grades your parents could think again about putting you in such a prestige place, so you had to find a solution but instead the solution found you instead.

you sat on the uncomfortable wooden chair, waiting for the older man to come in with books. a week ago you went to a frat party with your friends and you heard the gossip about some "retried proffessor", nobody really knew what happened, the most realistic guess was that he had a romance with one of his students, even if not forbidden it could give a negative light on such uni you went to.

all people you talked with recommended him, he was cheap and good so you decided to go, not like the money was the problem, the mystery around him pulled you towards the idea, so here you were, hearing small cruses in low voice being said and a thud of hard-covered books. then you saw him come inside the kitchen bending his head to not hit the doors. he was fucking big, the apartament he was living in felt too small for him- that's what you thought.

he placed two thick history books on the table and sat next to you putting glasses in meantime, one of the earpiece visibly put together with silver tape. "so my girl, what you don't understand?" he gruffed looking at you, tilting his head a bit down.

you looked at the books stressed, and at him, you didn't think about what you wanted to learn or you didn't know- in your opinion you knew nothing. "well um..can we start from the beginning of the year professor?" you mumbled quietly, expecting him to scold you or grimace, though he only raised any eyebrow and chuckled after. "is it that bad?" he turned around on his chair to face you. "call me toji, i don't feel like a professor for a long time, alright honey?" a shiver went down your spine at his words, you faced him back, just as he did.

you didn't want to think anything of his nicknames, you knew lots of teachers and professors called their students nicknames so you treated it as his old habit, well at least you tried. "alright toji, so where do we start?" you asked, swallowing at how shamelessly he gazed over you. "you didn't come here to study, did you?" he huffed, moving in his chair closer to you, your thighs touching together. "last week i got two girls like you, just wanting for a hook up. you look like it too, not even prepared to study at all."

toji said more confidently, his hand got placed at the back of your back making you shudder. "h..huh.. sir please-" you uttered trying to pull away until he caught you fully in his grasp. "wanna call me like that in bed too honey?"

"ngh~ s..sir" you moaned softly feeling his length against your pussy lips. he was so massive. you tried to move but his hold on your arms stretching them back to him, your head falling in his shoulder.

he smirked looking down at your fucked up face, virgins were so easy to tease and toy with. "so i wasn't wrong. another university slut huh? rich brats."

he laughed breathy positioning himself at your entrance, your back arching. "thinking you will be the one fucking me. but it's me who do it." he leaned close to your face making eye contact. "open your mouth up bunny."

he whispered pushing his tip slowly inside of your tight cunny. you gasped, making a small "o" shape with your lips, letting toji to spit in your mouth. "swallow." he commanded and slid his cock inside of you, making him sigh in delight, from what he felt in this weeks, you were the tightest one, a virgin after all, he wondered if you even touched yourself.

you chiked on his spit swallowing, tears swelling up in your eyes, mascara started to be bit smug around your eyes. you felt the big stretch, his shaft feeling you up so good "no sir, sir si-" you whined loudly panicking and trying to catch your breath.

"shut.the.fuck.up." he groaned, letting go of your arms and putting his arm around your neck in a headlock, flexing biceps. his other hand going to your waist pushing you down on his dick, tip kissing your cervix making you whine loudly in pain, but also pleasure, you almost instantly gushed over his shaft creating a ring over his cock of your juices and his precum.

"so tiny and sensitive i barely got you on my dick." he growled leaning a bit over peeking at your tits, then his gaze shifted on your belly, he saw a light bulge where his cock was. oh how much he enjoyed it. "any last words before i ruin you honey?" he asked in a mockery caring tone, moving his hips minimally, making you gasp. "i guess no.." toji whispered in your ear and started rolling his hips, the fat, red tip hitting your poor cervix every time, when you moved your hands weakly up to hold on his forearm around your neck sobbing from the pleasure.

with every thrust he flexed his bicep so you get knocked out of air. without realizing you were cumming again, your little hole gasping, squeezing him so nice. after few huffs toji pulled out cumming. he sat down back on his chair pulling your weak body on his lap, he took off the used condom and put on another one. he was still hard.

you turned your gaze up to his face panting and then down on his cock. toji held your face with his hand squeezing ur cheek, making you look at him. "we are not done. at least me...

sweetheart."

#jjk #jjk smut #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #jjk toji #toji smut

445 notes · View notes

lost-in-lamentation · 2 years ago

Text

you're not his. but he hopes that with this, you'll finally see how much he wants you.

content: the brothers give you their purest form of affection. what do they do?

warnings: if you don't like physical affection, this may not be for you (⇀‸↼‶)

part two with the sides here.

belphegor; he bites you.

he watches you flip through your homework, his gaze following your pen as you scribble across the page. it's not long before he decides he can't hold back anymore, and eventually makes his way over to you. he places his hands on your shoulders, letting you know he's there, before he nips lightly at the base of your neck.

"wha- belphie! what was that for?!" you cry out, your face beginning to flush.

belphegor smiles at you, his eyes soft yet mischievous. "figure it out yourself."

═ ˎˊ˗

beelzebub; he gives you bunny kisses.

after a hard fought fangol game, beelzebub can't help but look for you in the crowd. when he finally sees you, arms waving excitedly and all, he runs harder than he did the whole game. the demon slows to a stop in front of you, your grin inviting him closer. his hands move faster than he thinks, cupping your face as he leans in to rub his nose with yours. when he pulls back, his hands are replaced by a light blush.

"beel, you..."

beelzebub takes your hand in his. "let's go get something to eat."

═ ˎˊ˗

asmodeus; he pampers you.

a long day leaves you too tired to properly freshen up at the end of it. but asmodeus decides that if anyone gets to share his special beauty products, it's you. he tugs you into his private bathroom with the utmost care, handing you bottles of who knows what that he says will help you. when you've finished, asmodeus has you lay down on his bed, his hands slowly working the knots out of your back.

you release a relaxed sigh under his touch. "thanks, asmo," you murmur.

asmodeus delights in the way you start to melt. "anything for you, darling."

═ ˎˊ˗

satan; he touches foreheads with you.

the sight of you reading a book he recommended while sitting in his favourite chair was simply too much. he stares at you a while longer before he decides he's had enough. the blonde makes his way towards you, his lips pouting, but his eyes loving. he waits for you to look up at him, and when you do, he leans down, pressing his forehead onto yours. his eyes flutter shut, and he is internally thanking the stars that you haven't pulled away.

"are you okay?" you whisper ever so softly.

satan reaches to rub a thumb over your cheek. "i am now."

═ ˎˊ˗

leviathan; he links your arms together.

he spends at least fifteen minutes debating if he's allowed to even touch you. you're so close to him; if you were sitting any nearer, you'd be brushing elbows. was it so bad of him to want that? the game he's playing with you takes second priority for a brief second, causing leviathan to slip up and nearly die in game. when you look at him, concern written across your face, he can't stop himself. his arm snakes around yours, linking together.

"levi? you're okay with this?"

"i-if it's you... yeah. i think am," he stutters, trying to ignore the way you shift closer to him.

═ ˎˊ˗

mammon; he gives you a back hug.

when he comes home, the last thing he expects is to overhear you arguing with lucifer about him. but when mammon listens to you defending his name, he nearly breaks down then and there. he waits for you to leave lucifer's study, waits for you to pad down the hallway down to your room. when he finally catches a glimpse of you, he's throwing himself around you, arms wrapping your waist and his face burying into your hair.

"what's this about, mammon?"

"... nothin'." mammon sighs against your neck, his fingers tapping on your stomach one time, then four times, then three times. he hopes you'll understand.

═ ˎˊ˗

lucifer; he kisses you.

the eldest of seven nearly has a heart attack when he awakes on his bed. he remembers falling asleep at his desk, not his bed. lucifer snaps his head around and is greeted by you, sitting at the desk he thought he had never left. he barely registers the words that leave your mouth as he begins to walk towards you. for once, lucifer acts without thinking, and he finds himself gravitating towards you to place a gentle kiss on your lips. he practically shudders with joy when you return the sentiment.

"good morning," you say as you separate, breath fanning against his lips.

"good morning," lucifer returns, chasing you for one more kiss.

a/n: asmo is so hard to write for me... i'm sorry asmo fans. (also, should i do a part 2 for purgatory hall and royalty crew?)

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me nightbringer #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #lucifer x you #mammon x you #leviathan x you #satan x you #asmodeus x you #beelzebub x you #belphegor x you #aris writes 🐈‍⬛

3K notes · View notes

filthgarbage86 · 2 years ago

Text

I cannot stop thinking about Eddie calling you nicknames. Not even just the regular ones, like baby, honey, sweetheart, baby cakes, though those ones still make your heart race. Imagine the day he figures out you like other nicknames. And once he figures out one, he’s testing them all to see which one gets him the biggest response.

Imagine being at school, you’re sitting next to him in class and suddenly your teacher is calling on you to answer a question. You’re always fast to clam up when you’re called on but luckily this time you really did know the answer to whatever the teacher was asking. You give a clear, straight answer and your teacher commends you on your work, “Good work, y/n” and you just hear next to you, barely above a whisper “that’s my good girl”. You’re sure that you’re more red than a tomato.

Imagine you’re at hellfire club with everyone and you’re getting hyped up before a session and he is just sitting there in his chair, looking at you with big, bright eyes, noting how excited you seemed. When you take your seat next to him, he just comments “seems like my doll is ready to play. Let’s get started.” Again, you’re a mess and a half, red as can be but you’re still able to control yourself a bit.

The last straw is over the weekend, at a party at Steve’s with everyone around and you wish you could crawl into a hole when it happens. You’re having a great time, you’re chatting with the crew, Robin is sharing stories about this guy that came into the store today and was recommending the worst movies to her as though he had any taste. Everything was going really smoothly and then, Eddie comes over. He slides right next to you on the floor that you had been sat at in the circle. He’s laughing at something Robin said, placing a hand on your thigh and rubbing comforting circles to show his presence. He smells like weed, alcohol, and his cologne and you’re already gone. Then, knowing exactly what he’s doing, he just leans into your ear like he’s telling a secret - “hiya bunny, how’s my sweet baby doing?” and you all but whimper. Bunny. You don’t know why that’s gotten the reaction it did but you immediately regret it the moment it slipped. The music felt like it went quiet and you felt like you had multiple pairs of eyes on you. Eddie’s eyes look like a lightbulb just went off behind them.

“Ohhh what’s this, bunny? Do you like being called that?”

It’s the alcohol. Definitely the alcohol. It couldn’t possibly-

“Awe what’s wrong bunny? You embarrassed? Don’t be. This is exactly what I’ve been waiting for. You’re so good to me, bunny, letting me know something like this”

You absent-mindedly are clenching and rubbing your thighs under his touch while he’s chuckling low and you wish you were anywhere else right now. You had been avoiding eye contact this entire time until he took your chin and jaw in your hand and with a gentle but firm touch, he turned your head towards him

“Just say the word, and we can get out of here baby. I’ll treat you like a good little bunny too. All you have to do is look at me in the eye, and say so.”

Before you can even respond, Robin let’s out a long sigh and groan “guys, come on, either get a room or get a clue”. You decide at this moment to finally look at Eddie. His eyes have a smirk behind them and you’re swimming in chocolate.

“Well sweetheart? What do you say?”

“i thought…” you weren’t sweetheart right now, you wanted the other name again. You needed to hear him say it again.

He lifts your chin up again to look at him, firmly

“Speak up, Princess? What do you want to do?”

“I want to be a good bunny-“ he’d be pulling you out the door in a spilt second and you know it.

I just- I want to be called names like that by this man so badly. And you KNOW he would.

#Eddie Munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things 4 #nicknames #you KNOW he would talk to you so sweetly

4K notes · View notes

slushycoookie · 8 months ago

Text

Spa Day ~ Miguel O'Hara x AFAB! Reader

Content: You and Miguel go to the spa, mainly fluff, gets smutty towards the end, "wife" and "girl" are used, thigh grinding, masturbation, perhaps a hint of a praise kink, MINORS DNI!!

A/N: Had an idea to do a cute spa day with Mig. Enjoy!

“Welcome to the Sunny Side Spa! Are you checking in?”

The receptionist asked, smiling wide as you and Miguel walked inside. You were too busy taking in the peaceful atmosphere to respond. Admiring the soft bright lighting, harpsichord music, and divulging in the lavender aroma.

Miguel stepped in, “Yes. For the deluxe package?”

“Wonderful! Right this way!” You took your husband's hand, following the cheery woman down a hall and to the right, where the showers and locker rooms were. “Please wash up and put on our robes so we can start your ultimate spa experience!”

Your heart sped up in excitement, trying to contain it as you and Miguel went your separate ways in the locker rooms. Sunny Side Spa was a new spa that opened up on Earth-438, being highly recommended by some of the spiders in Spider Society. Ben mainly as he raved about his experience. Saying he suggested it to a few others too because it was that good. Jess came to you a few days later about the same spa and then so did Peter the day after. All boasting about their experiences, wanting you and Miguel to go too.

They mentioned how difficult it was pushing Miguel to go out and try new experiences. Especially after his major role in forming the elite spidey team. But once he started dating you, he was open to branching himself out. Even more so after marriage.

So when you brought up the spa trip with him, he was interested. He didn’t think he'd even been to the spa before when he couldn’t remember the last time he's had a massage or a facial. You weren't sure yourself. Hence why it was clear you two had to get in some relaxation time.

The cream-colored robe you put on felt like cotton. It was warm and soft to the touch with notes of eucalyptus hitting your nostrils.

Miguel was waiting for you, leaning against the wall while listening to the receptionist rave about the deluxe package. You didn't catch much of it, only hearing a little bit about a deep tissue massage.

“Ah you too look adorable!” She complimented before motioning you all to the massage room. The lady repeated what she told Miguel about everything that's in the deluxe package. A deep tissue massage, followed by a manicure, pedicure and a facial. While you all were fed complementary food and drinks. And as an added bonus, a private sauna room you can go to at the end of the wellness visit.

The lady handed you a pamphlet of the details in case you forget as she left you two in the room to wait for your masseuse. Your eyes caught the option to do hot stones in the massage to maximize muscle relaxation.

“Maybe you should pick this one.” You pointed out.

Miguel glanced over your shoulder, letting out a playful huff. “What are you trying to say?”

“Nothing…” You teased, “My man works hard. Just want to make sure we're making the most out of our stay.”

He hummed, kissing the side of your head. “I appreciate the thought, baby.”

The massages you received were out of this world.

Once meeting with your personal masseuse, you lied face down, uncovering your robe for easy access. The masseuses' hands roaming every inch of your bare back. Rubbing spots along your muscles that you didn’t even know were tense. All of the tension built up inside faded away once the soft fingers of your personal masseuse melted it away.

You couldn’t help but groan loudly at the feeling, hearing your masseuse laugh. “Feel good, yeah?”

“Oh yeah.”

Miguel was enjoying his massage as his groans resonated in the room. While he occasionally instructed his own masseuse where they should rub the most. Any semblance of worry that your husband wasn’t going to enjoy the experience were gone.

Hints of jasmine from the essential oils lingered as hot stones pressed along your back. Not hot enough to burn your skin but to soothe your body. The personal masseuses left the room, wanting you two to lie on the cot for a little to fully relax.

“Cariño?” You hummed in response, “I might fall asleep.”

You giggled as you could tell by his low tone. “Fall asleep, baby.” You weren't too far yourself, body desperate to doze off in pure bliss. Miguel’s soft snores weren’t helping either as it blended well with the gentle music that was playing.

After you and Miguel got some shut eye for a few minutes, your masseuse woke you up for the mani/pedi. You took the lead as Miguel trailed behind, walking a tad slower to get adjusted from his nap. The section of getting the hand and foot massages was in a large area outside. A closed off section that was decorated with tons of food at your disposal. Fruit, veggies and mini sandwiches with a variety of alcoholic and non alcoholic drinks.

You quickly snatched up a grape as you sat back in your reclining chair, grabbing a drink of water while waiting on the nail artists to arrive. There was an option of getting your nails painted too, which Miguel willingly said yes to your surprise.

“Ooh can I pick your color?” You asked as they handed you a palette of nail colors to choose from.

“Go crazy.” Miguel said, not paying you any mind as he messed with his chair that had a massage function built in.

You decided to pick black for him, the glittery kind that shined in the light. You opted for a dark blue, like his suit, also sporting a shimmery shine.

The techs were really thorough while doing your hands and feet. Placing them in a tub of warm water, scrubbing away the excess skin. Trimming your nails and toes to a decent length. You watched them rub oil across your arms and legs too before they effortlessly painted your nails and toes. You glanced over to see how Miguel’s looked. He wiggled one of his hands to show it off. Black fit well on him.

Your face was soon covered with a mixture of ingredients you couldn't recognize. The green concoction had a clay-like texture, but it was cool against your skin. You watched the spa workers carry a bowl of cucumbers to finish off the facial. And you couldn't help but get excited when they said you could eat the veggies once the facial was finished, earning a laugh from your husband.

“Can I eat yours too?”

“Sure, mi amor.”

They allowed you two to relax in your chairs for a bit. The soothing sensation of the mask really helping. Your nail techs also recommend waiting to touch anything for a bit while your nails dried, making sure their hard work didn't go to waste. That didn't stop Miguel from inching over to nudge your hand with his pinkie.

“Hm?” You said, completely in the zone of your relaxation.

“You look adorable right now.” Miguel chuckled.

You held back in removing a cucumber from your eye, “Put your cucumbers back on.”

“I will. Just let me look at you.”

“You've seen me before.”

“Not with green stuff all over your face.”

You removed one of your cucumbers, opening your eye and immediately snorting at Miguel’s green covered face. “You look adorable too.”

He gave another affectionate nudge before following your command by putting on his cucumbers.

After the delightful facials, you two made your way down to the saunas. You could feel your face glowing from the extra care. Both of you had to change again into some towels, having a similar texture and color to the robes you wore.

You and Miguel had 30 minutes inside before the staff checked on you. And you felt like you were in heaven as you leaned against Miguel. A warmth radiating throughout the room that relaxed your muscles and your mind. His arm draped behind you, leaning back against the bench, legs spread a little wide. You could tell he was enjoying it as he leaned his head back, taking it in.

Something in you honed on his neck, a slight sheen coating his brown skin. His adam's apple bobbing slowly. You swallowed hard at the hair on his chest, following it down to his happy trail and unable to see the prize under his towel.

“We should come here more often.” His voice caused you to jump, not expecting him to say anything.

“Oh yeah, we should.”

Miguel sat up, red eyes landing on you with a grin, “I know you liked the massages.”

“Of course I did.” You shrugged, “So did you, right?”

He nodded, “I did. But I know you really enjoyed them.” Miguel sat up a little and inadvertently spread his legs wider, “I heard your cute little noises.”

You huffed, trying not to get affected by what he was saying. “It wasn't intentional, it just felt good.”

“I know, nena. I'm teasing.” His hand rested on your side. It felt extra hot for some reason. “Sit on my lap.”

You eyed him suspiciously, “Why?”

“Because I want you to.” He said, sounding innocent.

“We can’t have sex in here, Miguel.”

Your husband bit his lip to hide his amusement, “Who said we were having sex? Your mind is awfully dirty.” You shot a glare towards him. He completely ignored it before patting his thigh for you. Somehow you found yourself on it, hands on his chest for support.

“I'm serious.” You warned before he captured your lips. It was gentle yet passionate. His hand placed on your back to keep you there while your tongues danced with each other. You wanted more when you parted, wanting to lean back in but you stopped yourself.

“We can’t…”

“We're not having sex.” Miguel reiterated as his hand moved to slowly unravel your towel. You didn’t protest, as a glimpse of your breast poked through, your towel loose enough to ride up to your hips. “Grind on my thigh.”

Your hips moved on command, your cunt rubbing against his covered thigh. The plush towel not irritating you at all but the complete opposite as you lowly gasped. Miguel’s hand took its rightful place on your back for stability. His eyes honed on how you were grinding against him.

“Good girl.”

Your eyes flickered to his hard cock coming out from his towel. Standing tall and proud due to your actions. You wanted to touch it, but he beat you to it as he lifted you up gently, plunging two fingers inside you. You whimpered at how embarrassingly wet you were before watching him use your arousal on his cock.

His eyes never left your body as yours watched him stroke his cock. His thumb running along the tip to collect pre cum before using it for additional lubrication. A quiet squishy sound was heard through the hum from the sauna. But you kept going, eyes fluttering shut to focus on what you were doing.

“Eyes on me.” He commanded.

You gazed at him, your stomach twisting as he was still watching you. Intense eyes filled with pleasure. Your hips faltered when he unraveled more of your towel from your body. It was dangling from your form, barely hanging on. But this way he was able to see your breasts move from the hip movement. And your covered sex rub along the fabric.

“Fuck…” He swore, picking up the pace of his strokes. “How did I get so lucky?”

“Miguel…” You moaned, your clit hitting a perfect spot amidst your lazy grinding. That caused you to arch your back and pick up the pace. Miguel’s other hand is still on you, gripping a bit tighter.

“I should fuck you right here.” He grunted, spreading his legs even wider to get a good angle. “But I listen to my wife.”

“Sometimes.” You muttered, enough for him to let out a breathy chuckle. Your thighs started to ache as your cunt pulsed while you felt yourself getting closer. You wanted to shut your eyes and chase it but it was more addicting to look at Miguel’s steely focus on you.

“Wait for me.” He sighed, voice starting to get hoarse. You slowed down for him to catch up. Which didn’t take too long as his rough hand gripped your ass, the cue for you to go. So you kept grinding. Your back arching more and allowing the towel to slip completely off. That earned a groan of approval from your husband, his face turned from the undeniable pleasure.

“Baby I need you to come. We don't have much time.”

“I-I know.” You struggled, whining as you were nearing your peak. You had to ignore Miguel’s demand this time by shutting your eyes to focus on that feeling. Your body exploded, pleasure shooting all over you. Thighs squeezing against his while you quietly cried for him. Any other time he wouldn't like how quiet you were but he didn’t complain.

Miguel wasn’t far behind as cum shot out, staining his abdomen. His death grip from your ass gently released as he heaved. You rested against his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow back down to his original pace.

You and your husband were practically glowing after getting out of the sauna. The two of you changed back into your clothes before making your way to the front of the establishment.

The receptionist waved to you and Miguel as he made the payment, “Did you two enjoy yourselves?”

“We definitely did.” He glanced at you with satisfaction while you held in a grin.

“Awesome!” She handed him the receipt before waving you two goodbye. “Thank you for coming to the Sunny Side Spa! Have a good day!”

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o hara x reader #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara smut #slushycoookie writes

514 notes · View notes

revelboo · 1 month ago

Note

An idea for the Metroplex x reader fics in the long term, it’d be interesting to consider the reader finding a way to merge with him sometime down the line! It might be difficult to explain with a human reader, but a little plot convenience never hurt anyone.

If you haven’t read the Windblade comics, merging is where a regular cybertronian connects with a titan, sharing one mind and also having access to their entire frame. It’s cool stuff. When Windblade does it, she does see a vision of Metroplex (relatively regular sized) holding out his hand to her.

I’ve been thinking about titans a lot and I think while merged Metroplex would be able to feel as if he’s being held like a normal bot, even if that’s not really happening. I ramble on. The Windblade comics are so good I recommend them to everyone, that is my message. Thank you for delivering us top tier fics with lightning speed 🫡

Looks they’ve pulled the IDW TF comics from Kindle aside from what I already own. I need to track down a copy of the Windblade series and drag the bulk of my physical comics out to reread.

I Can Feel You Pt 5

Metroplex x Reader

• It’s a slow process. One word at a time. Repeating yourself until he slowly, painstakingly responds. Simple things since that’s all you’re really capable of with the limited phrases in the educational files, writing a question and repeating it out loud for the massive Autobot. Then quickly copying down his response to try and translate it. You spend all night that way, stretched out on the floor, the aching in your back and shoulders distant as you focus on Metroplex. On talking to him, needing to let him know you see him. He’s not alone or forgotten.

• Centering himself with the feel of your heartbeat, he watches over you as you sleep, cheek on your outstretched arm where you’d fallen asleep waiting on him to form a response as day broke. All night speaking to him, that knowledge spreads warm through his spark even as exhaustion drags at him. Making such small things, detailed things, so difficult, sapping his energy and ability to focus. But to be able to talk to you, it’s worth it. Do you understand how much the effort means to him? That you’d tried at all when no one else bothers?

• It’s mid afternoon when you wake up, body aching from laying on the hard floor. Pushing yourself upright, you lean back against your berth. Reluctantly pulling yourself to your feet, your sleepy mind almost doesn’t notice the dark rectangle of missing floor in a corner. Moving closer, you peer into the darkness below, seeing stairs winding down and as you look, biolights flare, running like circuitry in the walls. Did he want you to go down there? He must, but your nerves jangle as you lay a hand against the wall, faintly uneasy at the claustrophobic space and darkness. He can’t know how much you hate small spaces, but he’s reaching out again. You can’t just ignore him. “Okay,” you whisper, skin prickling as you start down the stairs. Realizing he’s leading you into his massive frame and unsure how you feel about that.

• Your palm slides along him as you move slowly down the stairs and he can feel you trembling faintly. Afraid? Why now? Flaring biolights for you as you keep going, he’s aware of the way you keep looking up toward the rectangle of light, of the way your breathing is becoming less steady. Trusting him enough to keep going, though. But so silent. He’s so used to you talking to him constantly that he’s very aware that you’re not talking. Just a little further, though. Deeper inside the labyrinth of his frame. He’s not even sure if this will work, but wants to try. Needs to know.

#transformers x reader #metroplex x reader #idw metroplex

286 notes · View notes

hwaslayer · 4 months ago

Text

vivrant thing (jwy) | two.

—SPOTIFY PLAYLIST / SERIES MASTERLIST

—SUMMARY: after getting into a little accident, wooyoung decides to do his sister a favor by pretending to be your date at the company summer party. as soon as the night ends, wooyoung would go back to his usual routine of hanging out with his boys, keeping his distance from committed relationships and being a typical brother to jiwoo. except, the favor comes with more than what wooyoung expects and he finds you occupying his mind more than usual.

—PAIRING: jung wooyoung x f. reader

—GENRE: (18+ - minors dni) bestfriend’s brother au | fluff, angst, eventual smut

—WORD COUNT: 8.8k

—CHAPTER WARNINGS: cussing/mature language, ponytail wooyoung !!!, alcohol consumption / intoxication, party at the winery!, dancing, sweet affectionate moments, songs mentioned are in the playlist, wooyoung is very sweet and will take care of his date 10/10 recommend 🥰

"Wait, wait, wait." San shakes his head in disbelief. "You're going to your sister's company summer party? With Y/N?"

"Mhm." Wooyoung responds nonchalantly.

"I thought her car was already getting fixed at the shop though, what does that have to do with you?"

"You think my sister is gonna leave it at that?" Wooyoung cocks a brow before putting down the navy button-up shirt back on the rack. "I'm just doing her the favor so she can let me be. I know she'll continue to hang it over my head if I don't."

"Wow, you're strong."

"I only agreed cause it's one night. And cause of the whole thing with my sis. Believe it or not, I don't always want her finding reasons to nag at me."

"Wouldn't that be weird, though?"

"What?"

"Being Y/N's date."

"Sure, but it's whatever."

"What're you even gonna talk about all night?"

"I don't know? Am I supposed to have a list ready and check it off as I go?" He gives San a weird look. "I'll figure it out. Who knows, it might not even be that bad."

"I'm not gonna lie, she did look pretty cute at your parents' bbq."

"She's always been cute. She's just shy as hell."

"Mm, yeah." San starts to eye the sweaters on the rack, pulling out a few and hanging it against his chest to see how they'd look on him. "So, what are you guys wearing?"

"I'm not sure." San's forehead crinkles when he turns to look at Wooyoung.

"Aren't you supposed to be sure? You're going together. You have to match."

"Well, we don't really have to. We're not dating, we're just going to a party together as friends."

"Acquaintances."

"Yeah, okay Merriam-Webster." Wooyoung scoffs and pulls out a black button-up shirt that he probably already has in his closet— but it wouldn't hit the same as buying a new one for a summer party. "Stop trying to make it seem like it's super complicated when it's not."

"I'm not. I'm just having a hard time imagining it."

"Then, don't. She's really not that bad."

"Wish she wasn't so shy." Wooyoung turns to San.

"Or.. what?"

"Maybe I would've tried getting to know her more."

"Fuck outta here, Choi San. You're only saying that shit because I'm taking her out to a party." Wooyoung points towards the front of the shop. "Wait. You see that right there?"

"What?" San leans over to try and get a good look at what Wooyoung is pointing at.

"Look closely." He ushers him to get closer. "If you look straight ahead, you'll see the front door. You can take your exit there."

"Fuck you."

"Shut up then. Don't start saying that stuff about Y/N." Wooyoung rolls his eyes as he continues to flip through the racks, trying to spot more clothes to buy and fill his closet with. He's not really sure why he feels the sudden need to be protective of you, especially with San. Hearing him say things like that rubs Wooyoung the wrong way and he's not sure if it's because he's known you for years, or because of something else that he doesn't really wanna think about right now. In the end, Wooyoung doesn't deal with feelings. They're too complicated, and they tie him down.

"Oh my god! Those dresses are so cute, you'll definitely find one here!" Wooyoung overhears from nearby.

"Whoever that is, sounds exactly like my sister." Woo does a slight head tilt and pretends to shiver. "Can't escape—"

"Because it is your little sister, dummy." San nods his head towards your direction, the both of them watching as you, Jiwoo and Hongjoong walk into the same store. It's almost like the sibling radar goes off for Jiwoo because it doesn't take long before her eyes meet his.

"Why are you here?" She asks, slowly approaching them.

"Waiting for security to take your ass out." Wooyoung looks at the security guard and pretends to call him over. "Excuse me. The nuisance is right here, sir. Please escort her out." Jiwoo rolls her eyes and walks closer to him, giving Hongjoong the opportunity to greet him and San. "Whattup!"

"Taking these girls shopping for the party." Hongjoong responds.

"Me too!" Wooyoung points at San, causing him to click his teeth in response. "Hey Y/N." He smiles down at you and pulls you into a hug before San does the same.

"Are you wearing black to the party?" Jiwoo holds out the shirt Wooyoung has in his hand.

"And if I am?"

"It's a summer party."

"Black goes with everything?" Jiwoo gives him a look that he reciprocates. "You know, now that you're here Y/N, maybe we can shop for our outfits together."

"Sure, okay—" You respond softly, about to step closer to him when Jiwoo holds your hand and tugs you back.

"I'm shopping with her."

"I have better taste than you."

"I think not." She looks down at the shirt again before looking back up at her brother. "Anyway, we'll be off to find our dresses." She links her arm with yours as you quietly continue to shift your attention between Jiwoo and her brother. "Byeeeee!" She swings you around and drags you towards the dresses in the back corner of the store. Hongjoong lingers around the boys for a little longer, shopping for new shirts himself. The boys talk about their upcoming plans before the summer party, also throwing in some guesses about how the summer party is going to turn out.

Meanwhile, when you and Jiwoo head to the dresses, your eyes automatically land on a strapless corset midi dress— it has a simple black and gold abstract print on it, the fabric mainly mesh. It'll be a little tighter than you'd like, the side slit a little higher than you'd like, but you thought it'd go with the vibe best. There are a few other dresses that caught your eye, and Jiwoo encouraged you to try them on in order to decide which one worked best.

You could like the way one looks, but it could be completely different when you put it on.

But, your decision remains the same; the abstract dress fits you well, and you can't lie, you feel the sexiest in it. The corset bodice, along with the bodycon fit, provides enough support and shape to hug you in all the right places. Jiwoo squeals when she sees you in the dress, completely agreeing with your decision [she would've any other way]. She jokes that her brother better keep his hands to himself with how good you look and all you can do is shyly shake your head with a tiny giggle before heading back into the room to slip it off.

"Did you find your dresses?" Hongjoong comes, eyeing the dress Jiwoo has in her hands.

"Mhm! Is my pain in the ass brother still here?" Hongjoong shakes his head.

"Him and San just left."

"Good. The dress Y/N has is to be kept a secret until the party. She's gonna look so good, I might have to tell Wooyoung to keep his hands to himself." You come out of the dressing room with the dress tucked closely to your chest, hanging the rest on the go-back rack.

"Hongjoong, please tell her she doesn't have to do all of that." You look at him and he chuckles. "Remember? You're the one who put your brother up to all of this just so I could go to the party. I'm quite positive it's just a favor and nothing else." You all walk towards the register to pay for your items.

"Still, okay? You're gonna look amazing. I gotta give him a little warning and make sure he doesn't get super handsy with you." She shivers, making you playfully roll your eyes in response.

"Jiwoo, are you gonna help me with hair and makeup? Cause I literally won't know what to do that'll go well with this dress."

"Of course, bae! We'll make it pop, but keep it simple. Trust me on this." She squeezes your wrist just before handing her card over to the cashier. Once her and Hongjoong finish paying, you follow them down to the food court, ordering some friend chicken to munch on before sharing a huge bowl of bingsu with the two. You catch San and Wooyoung passing through the food court, now accompanied by two other girls. They don't look familiar, at least you don't think. In any case, it doesn't make you feel any better knowing Wooyoung simply agreed to go to the party with you as a favor to his sister.

The harsh reality settles that this meant nothing more, nothing less.

You were just a favor.

The day of the party comes quicker than expected. Work had been so busy that the days had flown by, bringing you to your present:

Which is, Jiwoo helping you pop in some hazel colored contacts before doing your makeup and hair.

"Keep your eye open!"

"Ugh, I hate contacts. Jiwoo, you know I hate the feeling!"

"I know, but I promise it'll be over quick! Just keep it open and don't blink. The more you resist, the longer it'll bother you!" You groan again, gaining the last bit of courage to keep your eye open for Jiwoo as she aligns the contact and gently places it in. "Close and blink for me?" She watches and claps. "Perfect, now do the same for the other eye."

"Jiwoo." You whine.

"I know you can't do it yourself!"

"I can go without them!"

"But, the colored contacts give you a pop and it's cute!"

"I'm literally crying." You point at the tear strolling down your cheek.

"Beauty is pain, my dear! Just for one night! Now, keep still—" She pauses, the both of you holding your breaths while she pops in the last contact into your left eye. You flinch the moment it settles, dabbing at the tears that stream down your cheeks.

"Never again. Wooyoung is literally not gonna care."

"Who said this is about Wooyoung? It's your first summer party, forget my brother. You're gonna be the hottest thing to walk that winery." You shake your head, letting Jiwoo dab some powder onto your cheeks. "You look good, girly! Look at you!" She shoves the mirror in your face. Jiwoo did some loose curls on your hair, and a very natural look for your makeup. Fake lashes, a shade of blush that pops on your cheeks, clear gloss, natural eyeshadow— just enough razzle dazzle, but nothing too extra, as Jiwoo says.

You don't really recognize yourself, though. But, in a good way. You like the change. You normally don't wear makeup, you don't do your hair. You like to think you're simple, maybe too simple, but you don't mind it one bit. That was you, and you've come to embrace it. The change, though? It was nice to see on you once in awhile.

"Thank you." You smile at her and she squeals before checking her phone.

"Okay, my brother should be here in a bit. We're gonna take off and meet you there?"

"Why are you going so early?! You're not gonna leave at the same time as me and Wooyoung?!"

"Nope. We gotta get parking and get first dibs on the wine." She snorts before flashing her phone, screen signaling a call from Hongjoong. "You'll be fine, okay? Granted, as long as Wooyoung doesn't fucking text and drive again but I'm sure he won't with you in the car."

"Jiwoo!"

"I'll see you in a bit! I love you, mwah!" She says, grabbing her things and rushing out of your studio; heels click-clacking away on the pavement before she squeals even louder seeing her boyfriend. You shake your head, dabbing a bit more highlighter across your collarbone just like Jiwoo taught you.

Within the next 25 minutes or so, you munch on some apple slices you already had in the fridge, somewhat satisfying both your hunger and sweet tooth. Just as you're re-applying lip gloss, Wooyoung's call comes through on your phone, startling you and causing you to drop the wand onto the floor.

"Oh shoot." You grab the wand and blow it off, submerging it back into the tube. "Hello?"

"Yo— everything okay?" He laughs a bit hearing the rustling in the back. "I'm downstairs."

"Sorry, just dropped my lip gloss." You whine a bit away from the phone. "I'll be down in a second."

"Ah, hate when that happens. See you in a bit!" You hang up the call and spray on another spritz of perfume before grabbing your purse, shutting off your lights and closing up your studio. You slowly climb down the steps, Wooyoung probably questioning why you're taking each step 2 miles per hour and sideways.

You make it down in one piece. Slowly, carefully.

You shyly slip into the passenger's seat, and you almost pause mid-way when you glance at Wooyoung in the driver's seat. As promised, he's in a simple black-on-black fit— a crisp black button up with the sleeves rolled up ever so slightly, black dress pants and black boots. His hair is tucked back in a ponytail with a few strands framing his face. The car smells like his cologne, and he's chewing away at some gum while waiting. You've seen Wooyoung formally dressed before for special occasions, but there hasn't been one time you found yourself ogling at him the way you are right now.

You've never seen him like this, or maybe you just never paid attention? You didn't really have a reason to until tonight. Well, you didn't really have a reason because he was your bestfriend's brother.

"Hi." He says, setting his phone down in the middle console. Thank god he didn't catch you staring at him the way you were. But now, he's doing the same and you're not sure why he's staring. Do you look weird? Is something on your face?

"Hi." He softly smiles, eyes still exploring your body from head to toe and you feel the heat rising to your cheeks. "What? Is it cause my eyes are kinda red?" You pout, immediately looking through the passenger mirror. "I swear I'm not like, high or anything. Jiwoo helped me put the contacts in earlier—"

"She, what?" He chuckles before shaking his head. "No, nothing. I just— you look beautiful, Y/N. Was taking it in, that's all."

"O-oh." You tuck a strand behind your ear before settling back into your seat. "Thank you, Wooyoung."

"Of course. You ready?" He glances at your seatbelt and you give him a nod to drive off. "Alright, lehgo." He says, shifting the gear and turning up his music a bit. The familiar voices of Blaque comes through on the speakers, Wooyoung softly singing along to JC Chasez's part in Bring It All To Me. You knew Wooyoung could sing, but it still blows your mind every time you hear his voice. He has one hand gripping tightly onto the wheel, the other resting on the gear. "Do you know if my sister and Hongjoong left already?"

"Yeah, they did about 30 minutes ago."

"She's deadass gonna be the first person there."

"She said she wanted dibs on parking and the wine."

"Gonna be the first person there and drunk. Free entertainment." You chuckle. "Your dress." He points at your dress before shifting his attention back to the road. "It's pretty. It looks good on you." You smile.

"I picked it."

"I figured. You've always had better taste than Jiwoo."

"Stop." You chuckle. "She did my hair and makeup."

"Really?"

"Yes, really." He nods in approval, bottom lip poking out. He really does think you look incredibly pretty— he's always thought you were cute, beautiful. But tonight, he can't take his eyes off of you and that'll be bad news for him as the evening continues. First and foremost though, his goal is to keep you comfortable and happy tonight. His goal is to make sure you have fun, and that's what he'll do with your pretty little self.

"Okay, I'll give her that. But, that stays between us." You snort.

"Sure, Woo." He chuckles.

"Warm enough? Music too loud?"

"No, it's all fine. I'm good. Promise."

"Okay, cause we still have about another 30 minutes to go before we get to the winery."

"I'm fine." You reassure him with the prettiest smile before returning your attention outside the window.

"So, does Yeosang know you're going?"

"No."

"Mm, okay. Definitely not prepared for him to beat my ass tonight. I did wear my good socks though, so.. he can try it if he wants." He shrugs.

"He's not like that." You respond softly with a giggle. "Besides, it's my fault. I withheld it from him intentionally."

"Well, what's the deal? If you don't mind me asking." You sigh. "My sister said it'd be weird for you two to go to the party together so I'm suspecting it's a one-sided thing."

"I just.. don't see him that way."

"Why don't you just tell him?"

"I don't know. I'm not really good at these things. I don't know how to say it and I don't wanna hurt his feelings."

"You'll hurt him more by letting it slide like this, you know?" Wooyoung shrugs. "It's okay if you don't feel the same. No one can ever force you to feel a certain way and he'll understand that. But, it'll make it easier on everyone if you're just honest from the get."

"Mmyeah."

"I promise. It'll be tough to get it out, but he'll appreciate it."

"I know, I know."

"In the meantime, are we avoiding him tonight? Lemme know the plan." You shrug.

"If he comes up to me, I'll just explain. Then.. go from there. Wherever that is." You pout a bit.

"Hm." Wooyoung hums when he sees the worried look on your face. "Don't worry about it too much, okay? We'll have fun tonight."

"I feel bad that you're here."

"Ouch, why? Don't want me here?"

"It's not that. You were basically forced to be here so Jiwoo wouldn't get on you for her car."

"Eh, well. Her car is fixed. She can't always force me into things. Besides, it's free entrance to a winery with unlimited wine. Why would I say no to that?" You chuckle.

"You say that now."

"We'll enjoy it together, yeah?" He looks at you and you meet his eyes, nodding quietly in agreement. You hope you'll be able to enjoy with Wooyoung, but as of right now, you're a bit anxious and scared for what the night will bring.

When Wooyoung pulls up into the main lot of the winery, the parking attendant signals for him to follow the rest of the cars into the extended lot. He jokes under his breath that maybe, he should've followed his sister's lead with this one and left earlier. But, it doesn't last long when he's able to snag a spot right by the back entrance near the winery's lawn area— aka, where the party would mostly take place.

"Alright. If we ever need to dine and dash, just say the word. We'll leave." He says, hopping out of the car while you laugh to yourself. He swings your door open and holds out his hand for you to take, shutting it close after he's gotten you out of the car. He looks at you up and down once again, causing the heat to rise to your cheeks— this time, at a new intensity. "Yeeeesh, I gotta say, you look fine, 'lil mama." He smirks. Cause yes, that dress falls along your curves, your body, so beautifully. That dress pushes up your tits so nicely.

And that dress hugs the curves of your ass so, so perfectly.

"Wooyoung." You whine a bit before playfully [and very softly] punching his bicep.

"Ah—" He laughs, holding out his arm for you to take. "I'm just being honest as your date."

"You're making me shy."

"Am I?" He looks down at you with another shit-eating smirk. "What else can I do in the next few hours?" You squeeze his bicep as you enter through the back door, greeting familiar faces. To your surprise [or not], Wooyoung immediately introduces himself as your date and Jiwoo's brother, causing your colleagues and everyone around you to hype you both up as a good-looking couple. You don't even know how to respond besides a 'thank you,' letting Wooyoung take on most of the work with his 'yeah, i know we do's' or 'i know, she's just a little shy about it though's.'

"Shoulda left 30 minutes earlier." Jiwoo says, pulling you into a hug before Hongjoong follows suit. "The baddie herself has finally arrived!"

"Shoulda left on time 30 minutes later." Wooyoung retorts, still properly hugging his sister and greeting Hongjoong.

"Time to catch up!" Jiwoo raises her glass and taps it. "The wine is pretty good, can't complain."

"Coming from the person who likes Svedka Vodka."

"Hey! It's cheap and does the job quick!"

"That's why my bar closed a long time ago for you." Wooyoung winces before turning to you. "Wanna go find the right wine for you to sip on?"

"Charcuterie board was just replenished, too!" Jiwoo yells, just as she watches her brother hold your hand and lead you into the winery. "It's so weird to see him doing all that with her."

"Well, he is her date." Hongjoong says with a laugh, sipping on his wine while he holds her by the waist. "He's taking good care of her. Let 'em enjoy it tonight, hm? Just like we will." He hums as she giggles, placing a kiss on her temple before whisking her away to the other finger foods that were just set out.

As you approach the table with endless different wine bottles set on the surface, you keep yourself close to Wooyoung especially with how packed the room has gotten. Wooyoung sets himself in between a red wine, a white wine and a bottle filled with some sort of pink-ish liquid, his hands grabbing two wine glasses and setting them down on the edge of the table.

"There's so much wine."

"Yup. It's nice that you don't have to pay for a dime. These things get costly."

"Which one is good?"

"Hm, let me check. I've heard of this winery but I've never tasted their wine before." He says as you continue to keep close behind him, looking over his shoulder. He picks up the bottle of red wine and takes it to his nose. "This smells hella bitter." Wooyoung says, smelling the red wine. "You probably won't like this one." He sets it back down and picks up the bottle of white wine. "Chardonnay might not be too bad." He pours a bit in his glass and hands it to you. "Taste it." You take the white wine into your mouth and make a face. "No?"

"Kinda bitter still."

"That's okay." He laughs and points to the pink bottle. "That might be good! Can never go wrong with Rosé. Wanna try it?"

"Can you taste it first?" Wooyoung nods, pouring himself some rosé— enough for a little sip. He nods in approval, shifting his attention back to you.

"It's good! You'll like it. I'll pour you a bit again and you can let me know if you want more or not." You nod. He hands you the glass, watching intently as you take a sip and nod in approval.

"Oh, this is good!"

"Yeah? Glad you like it." He pours some more in your glass, a little more heavy-handed than you like but you'll go along with it for tonight.

"What're you gonna drink?"

"I'm just gonna take some of this Cabernet and babysit it for the night." He reaches over to grab another bottle of red wine a couple of buckets away. He pours himself about half a glass before he's sipping it and humming in approval himself. "Yeah, that's pretty good." He sets his glass out, giving you the opportunity to taste his wine of choice. You take a little sip, shaking your head after giving him his glass back.

"Yeah, no." He laughs.

"It's okay. Red wine is tough to work with. At least we found you some good rosé, though. You gotta take those drinks for the both of us."

"Just one glass will do."

"Mm, a couple sounds better, though." He teases, lacing his hand back with yours as you both walk towards Jiwoo and Hongjoong, sharing a table with your other coworker and.. Yeosang.

"Y/N?" Yeosang looks up at you in confusion, and it almost breaks your heart the way he looks at you. You catch his eyes dart from you to your hand that's currently intertwined with Wooyoung's. "Wooyoung."

"What's up." Is all Wooyoung says as he looks at him over the edge of his glass, taking another sip.

"It's nice to see you—" Yeosang pauses and looks at you; you can't help but give him a pursed smile in return. "Together?"

"Mmyeah—"

"I see you went with the rosé! Nice choice!" Jiwoo cuts in, giving you a look to go along with it. "It's good, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is. We tried the others, wasn't a fan of them."

"They can get kinda strong." She says, downing the rest of the Chardonnay in her glass. "Welp, it's a good thing we have refills right at the table! Seems like we're gonna need it." She pours herself more Chardonnay before pouring you a bit more rosé.

"Jiwoo! I haven't even finished the first glass yet!"

"It was getting warm, you needed the refill." She smirks. You squint your eyes at her before briefly scanning the table, Yeosang now occupied with your coworker. He doesn't seem to want to make eye contact with you any time soon, and that particular unsettling feeling hits you in the gut. You're scared you've already ruined your friendship for pulling this stunt, for not being honest in the first place. You're scared you might've lost your other bestfriend because you were too busy hiding.

"Good?" Wooyoung leans forward to look at you, his soft eyes trailing over your features. He can already sense the shift in your mood and he doesn't want you to start overthinking and getting in your head, especially tonight.

"I think so."

"You sure? Got my good socks on." He points down to his boots. You smile at his reminder and it instantly eases him.

"I'm sure." He nods, slipping his arm behind you to rest on the back of your chair. Luckily, the CEO kicks off the dinner portion of the evening. He starts off his speech that lasts about a good minute, thanking everyone for their hardwork and dedication this point in the year. Once finished, he calls on a table to begin lining up for dinner. You, Wooyoung, Jiwoo, Hongjoong, Yeosang and your other coworker patiently fall in line for the buffet-style catering. Wooyoung makes sure to slip in behind you, creating a barrier between you and Yeosang even if there's no obvious hostility. It does help knowing he's creating some distance and you appreciate him for it. You fill your plate with a good scoop of food before settling back down in your seat.

The table enjoys dinner; thankfully, everyone is in good spirits and is cracking jokes despite the awkward moment that fell between you and Yeosang earlier. Even if he was upset, he'd never show you [or anyone] how he was truly feeling, and that could very well become an issue, too.

When it's time for the dance portion, Jiwoo fills your glass along with hers. Even though you had eaten a good amount of food, the alcohol was quick to seep back into your system and loosen you up. But, even with the liquid courage, you couldn't help but still feel shy around her brother.

He just looked so good tonight, you were afraid of looking like a damn fool in front of him.

In your favor, all Wooyoung cares about is making sure you have a good time. He can see how much you're trying to hold back, even when Jiwoo drunkly throws her arm around you and starts vibing to the music. At some point, the crowd splits you and Wooyoung from Hongjoong and Jiwoo, leaving you to your date to enjoy you all to himself. The DJ starts spinning familiar songs from the 90s, bringing a huge smile on Wooyoung's face.

"Come here." He says, pulling you closer to him as you dance around with him. "It's just me. Don't worry about anything or anyone else." He gives you a reassuring look, his hands loosely laced with yours. You start to feel more comfortable with his reassurance, singing and dancing along with Wooyoung. You find yourself laughing and playfully teasing Wooyoung when he shows off his dance moves and pulls you along into his shenanigans. Your worries seem to be a distant thought at this point, no longer being concerned about every little thing, every little detail.

You're having tons of fun with Wooyoung. You're no longer trying to control what can't be controlled, letting the night take care of the rest on its own.

In between, Jiwoo ends up finding you in the crowd, shoving more rosé your way to get you at a good drunk. And sure as hell, the trick works. Wooyoung finds himself smiling in pure adoration over you, letting you lazily wrap your arms around his neck while singing along to the songs and keeping you close—

Until there's a shift in the air and you feel the liquid courage finally kicking in the way it should.

Wooyoung takes your hand and turns you around, a hand resting on your hip as you dance against him. You don't even care that you've backed yourself up against him and are dancing on him the way you are, thoroughly enjoying how he grips your hips and pulls you flush against him.

It's a little much for someone like you, but you find that it gets you going. Almost has your brain going on overdrive, fixating on the fact that Wooyoung has you like this— wants you like this.

You continue to dance against him, loving the way he holds you and keeps up with your rhythm perfectly. It goes on for a few more songs, Wooyoung shifting to the side to get a good look and hype you up. He's had his fair share of dancing with women at clubs, but he can say hands down, he has never had as much fun as he did tonight. You didn't dance like you were out to prove yourself or something to anyone, to forcefully catch his attention or be someone you're not for all the wrong reasons— you just danced to have fun with him, trusted him to take care of you and help you loosen up. It was all genuine fun and good vibes; he's at the point of wishing the night would never end just so he could stay right here with you.

There is literally no care in the world; just you and Wooyoung, enjoying each other's company at this summer party you didn't even wanna go to. In the end, you're glad you ended up here with Wooyoung because it truly was one of the best nights you've had in such a long time.

"Woo." You turn, tired from all the dancing you've been doing with your handsome date.

"Yeah, babygirl?"

"I gotta pee." He snorts.

"You should definitely break the seal if you wanna start sobering up."

"I should, huh?" He laughs and nods.

"I'll wait out here for you, okay?"

"Mmkay." You part from him and it almost aches you to leave him for a second to relieve yourself. The need to pee becomes urgent, your feet rushing you along to the bathroom for a release. Good thing there isn't a line, and that the bathrooms are practically empty— you can sigh away in peace before washing your hands and freshening up a bit. You're excited to get back to Wooyoung, and it shows with the way you giddily pace out of the bathroom and down the hall—

Only to be stopped in the process by none other than your other bestfriend, Kang Yeosang.

You turn and find him there, a small smile plastered on his lips. Your heart immediately drops seeing him, and the guilt comes rushing back. You can't help but frown a bit, pursing your lips together before responding properly.

"Yeo, hi." You look at him with doe-eyes and he isn't sure if he should be more upset over the situation or sad. Maybe sad, because it's clear where you stand with him. And it sucks, but what is he to do? If you're happier elsewhere, who is he to prevent you from having that happiness?

"Hey you." He says softly. "I've barely seen you all night."

"Yeah, just been on the dance floor. My feet kinda hurt now that I think about it." He chuckles a bit.

"Sounds like you're having a good time."

"Um, yeah. Yeah." You repeat. "It's been good. Hope you're having a good night?"

"Can't complain, I guess?" There's a pause before you break the silence.

"Yeo, I'm sorry. It all happened last minute, I really wasn't trying to go but Jiwoo asked her brother and—"

"It's okay, seriously. It's fine. You don't have to explain." He says waving it off, probably trying to make it seem like it's not a big deal when yeah, maybe it isn't. But, you know he's still hurt. You know he still feels a hint of betrayal by the way this all went down— for saying no, for turning down the party, for not telling him you were all of a sudden gonna be here with Jiwoo's brother. For brushing his feelings under the rug.

"Is it?" You ask, still pretty drunk. If this were any other circumstance, you'd probably run away and hide.

"Uh, yeah, it will be." Yeosang shrugs, unsure of what to say because he is sad about it, now that he truly thinks about it and lets the situation settle in his head.

"I'm sorry." Is all you say as a small frown builds on your lips. Just as you're about to turn to get back to Wooyoung, Yeosang catches your wrist and gently tugs you back. You look up at him, eyes full of curiosity as to why he's holding you back. You're scared for what's to come next, but you give him the opportunity to tell you whatever it is anyway.

"Maybe we can talk about this over dinner? Just me and you?" And as much as you should stand your ground and say no, you can't help but feel like you owe it to him. Maybe this would be it— the doorway to being honest, to telling him the truth. Maybe you two could have a good, friendly dinner and get past this without ruining what's already there; as friends.

As for Wooyoung, he sees the whole thing with Yeosang. He can't help but watch, either. His eyes were scanning the crowd tough, a little too eager to have you back in his arms on the dance floor. When he finally caught your figure, your dress, standing in the main hall talking to Yeosang, he felt his heart drop. He's not sure what's going on, can't really make sense of what's being exchanged between the two of you. Yeosang still hasn't let go of your wrist, but Wooyoung catches you nodding before he does. Whatever it was, he's hoping you aren't hurt or anything along those lines.

"Hi." You smile toothlessly at him and he has the sudden urge to cup your cheeks, to pull you into his arms and hold onto you. At least you're smiling at him, that's all he could ask for.

"Hey." He smiles back. "I almost thought the toilet swallowed you." You laugh and shake your head.

"What if it did?"

"Then I'd have to go in there and save you, right? Who would I be if I didn't?" He holds out his hand as the next song plays, a little bit of that Jon B. with his They Don't Know. "Mm, I really like this song. Can we head back to the dance floor? I mean, if you don't wanna it's fine but please don't make me slow dance by myself." You giggle, taking his hand and letting him lead you back to the dance floor. He gently wraps his arms around you while you wrap your arms around his neck, his hands firmly keeping you pressed close to him.

"Wooyoung."

"Mhm?" He maintains eye contact with you as you sway to the song, following along to the beat.

"Thank you. For tonight. I've had a lot of fun."

"I'm glad. That's all I wanted." He smirks. "Assuming I'll get a free ride to next year's party, too?" You laugh.

"We'll see."

"No seriously though, I'm glad you had fun."

"I did. I really did." You tilt your head ever so slightly and the lighting from the string lights, the moon, hits you perfectly in this angle that Wooyoung feels his heart skip. The highlighter on your collarbone provides an extra layer of glow to everything about you and he honestly doesn't know how to act right now. You feel his hand gently rub at your lower back, his eyes moving from your nose, down to your lips. You catch his Adam's apple bob in an attempt to swallow this sudden nervousness down.

And you could be wrong, you don't really know what's going on in his head and vice versa. But, the moment his face starts edging towards yours, you can't help but follow his motions. In a sudden turn of events, you find yourself wanting, even needing to kiss him; you really hope to—

"If I didn't know any better, it actually looks like you two like each other a lot annnnd iono about all that." Jiwoo says, carrying the rosé bottle in her hand while Hongjoong tries to tug her away. Wooyoung rolls his eyes and tries to move you two away in tiny steps, fighting the annoyance within him when his sister [of course] butted in at a very pivotal moment. Cause yeah, he would've kissed you, and he would've genuinely enjoyed it. He wanted this, too. "Babe, I got the bottle. Open up—"

"Baby." Hongjoong says. "Stop, put it down. Let's go! Leave them alone!"

"Jiwoo, the hell. Are you trying to poison her?! She's good." Wooyoung says lowly with his brows furrowed, subtly brushing his sister off.

"Ew, fun police!" She looks at both Wooyoung and Hongjoong.

"Can you like, get yourself together? What's fun about drowning my date in rosé?"

"All of a sudden he cares." She snorts.

"Baby—sorry, sorry." Hongjoong has a sympathetic expression on his face while looking at you two. "I got this." Hongjoong whisks her away and grabs the bottle, successfully placing it down on another table before bringing her to get water.

"Jiwoo." You laugh, resting your head against Wooyoung's cheek, his grip on you only tightening as you softly sway back and forth to the music.

"Literally couldn't have been the worst time."

"It's okay. Hongjoong's got her now."

"Sorry." He says, placing a gentle, feathery kiss to your cheek. "Just know that was not how I wanted that to play out." He rubs at your sides as you giggle, continuing to slow dance with Wooyoung under the starlit sky.

When the event officially concludes, the CEO and leadership team come back to the stage to thank everyone for the successful event, wishing everyone safe travels back home. Jiwoo runs to you and hugs you, asking if you had fun tonight. You tell her that you did and that you owe it to her and her brother for all of it. She laughs, happy everything turned out well and that her brother took good care of you.

"Take care of her." Jiwoo glares at Wooyoung while Hongjoong chuckles to the side and shakes his head.

"Okay, go."

"I mean it."

"I do, too!"

"Babe, text me when this big head brings you home. I might not answer though cause I'll be at Joong's but still—" You nod, completely ignoring what she's insinuating.

"Ew, no one fucking asked Jiwoo. Just go." Wooyoung mumbles under his breath, giving her a look. Your eyes widen when you feel Wooyoung slip his hand into yours and grip it tightly, leading you through the crowd of people building around the back of the winery saying their goodbye's. You both head into the car with ease, giving Wooyoung the opportunity to catch a minute before driving off.

"Hm, how do you feel right now?" Wooyoung spreads in his seat, scrolling through his phone.

"I'm fine."

"Not too tired?"

"Not really."

"Still kinda tipsy?"

"Still kinda tipsy." You reaffirm and he chuckles.

"Wanna get some food and hang out somewhere? No pressure. Can take you home if that's what you prefer."

"Um, yeah sure! Let's go."

"Yeah?" He smiles and buckles up, shifting the gear to drive. "Sick. I know just the place to get you some good snacks."

Said place ends up being a convenience store nearby that has the best egg sandwiches, spicy tuna onigiri, and Wooyoung's favorite grab n' go corndogs.

You enjoy the experience nonetheless. Wooyoung parks his car right at the front of the store, helping you hop out of the car before slipping his hand in yours. It almost feels way too natural for two people who were merely attending a party together as acquaintances, [per Choi San] but Wooyoung likes the way your hand feels in his. The way it fits perfectly, and how you seem to put all your trust in him this way. He shuffles towards the back and tosses a few things into the basket you're holding with your other arm, giggling when he debates between a regular corndog or a flaming hot cheeto corndog.

"I don't want my ass to be on fire though, so." He says out loud in the very empty convenience store.

"Wooyoung!" You whisper, more embarrassed on his behalf than himself.

"I'm just saying Y/N, sometimes that shit is outta my control. I don't want it to be one of those nights." You laugh as he looks into the basket. "Is that all you want? A corndog?"

"Mhm. I'm still pretty full."

"Okay then." He takes the items to the register and quickly pays for it, giving you zero chance to slide in some cash. He smirks when he grabs the bag and heads back to the car, letting you know that he'd never let you pay anyway.

The drive to Wooyoung's endpoint is about 20 minutes away from the store, and up a dark hill. If it had been any other situation, it would've looked incredibly scary and suspicious. But since it's Wooyoung, you trust him wholeheartedly to bring you somewhere you'd enjoy.

"It gets better, okay. I know what you're thinking."

"What am I thinking?" You squeak.

"You're probably wondering why my punkass is taking you up a dark hill. I promise the view up there is worth it. You trust me, yeah?"

"I do. Don't disappoint me, Jung Wooyoung."

"Nah, never that." He takes you further up the curvy road, finally pulling into a small lot off to the side. There aren't any other cars parked besides Wooyoung's, so it makes it easy for him to back into the spot. He leaves enough space to pop open the trunk freely, allowing you two to sit and enjoy the sideview of the city. "Careful." He says, bringing you to the trunk and making sure you're seated comfortably before grabbing the snacks. He plops into the space next to you and hands you your corndog, the both of you indulging in your snacks in pure silence.

"There's a path down there. You get a better view of the city." He covers his mouth while chewing on his corndog.

"Hm." You hum, looking up at the sky. "The stars are so bright tonight."

"I know, I don't remember the last time I've seen so many stars." Wooyoung points to the right. "Look! There's the big dipper." You chomp on your corndog as you look up to where he's pointing at.

"No, it's not?"

"Y/N. Please. That's the big dipper."

"I'm looking! I don't see it." He scoots closer and points again. At this point, Wooyoung is only inches away from your face. If you were to turn at the wrong time, you'd land a kiss on his lips unintentionally.

"There!" He says. Lo and behold, Wooyoung's right. You finally see the shape of the big dipper up ahead, even if you're slightly distracted with Wooyoung's face being in such close proximity again.

"Okay, you're right. I see it, I'll give that to you." You respond with a tiny smile.

"Haven't seen one in a long time." He smiles proudly before digging into his other snacks and powering through them. Wooyoung doesn't even move away from you after showing you the big dipper, but you aren't complaining. You've come to learn that you enjoy having him near, close. "You're done eating?" You nod, tossing your trash into the bag.

"Mhm." You hum contently. "Wooyoung." He looks at you with a brow cocked up, shoving the last bit of the onigiri in his mouth. He shouldn't like the way you say his name so softly, so delicately, but he does. Especially after tonight, he really, really does.

"Yeah?"

"I wanna walk down the path and look at the view." You stand and start walking towards the path, where it'll take you to a beautiful view of the city.

"Wait, hold up!" He says, grabbing his jacket and locking up his car. "Why does she walk so fast? Miss Quicksilver." He mumbles to himself. When he catches up to you, you feel him drape his jacket over your shoulders before coming to your side. "It's getting kinda chilly out." You look up at him with a small smile on your face, hugging the jacket closely around your frame.

"Thank you."

"Course." He holds out his hand. "It's dark, let me lead the way? You've got your pretty heels on and everything. You sure you wanna do this?"

"Yeah, please?" Wooyoung almost buckles at the knees when he hears you plead the way you do, instantly locking hands while he walks in front to lead the way. You stay close to him, especially when the path has lower visibility than you expected. He tightens the grip on your hand, carefully navigating around the bushes along the way. When he finally reaches the end and brings you to the view, you take a few steps forward toward the edge of the overlook. There's a small board off to the side that outlines the history of the city ahead and when the overlook was created. You let go of Wooyoung's hand completely to rest on the edge, taking in the city lights. The crisp night air. The sound of the stream nearby. You rest your elbows on the stone, chin resting on the palms of your hands. Wooyoung smiles to himself as he admires you from behind, coming right by your side to enjoy the view. "It's so pretty."

"Yeah, it is."

"The crickets are loud. Kinda soothing to listen to, though."

"Louder than Jiwoo, that's for sure." You laugh, continuing to look at the view.

"How'd you know about this spot, Woo? Do you take girls here on dates?"

"God, no. I just come here to chill when I need to get my mind together. I don't really share this spot with anyone." He rests his chin on your head and you don't budge, appreciating the extra body heat from behind.

"You shared it with me."

"That's cause I genuinely wanted to take you here. I know you'd appreciate it."

"Can I start coming here, too?" You look up at him with a smile.

"Only if you let me tag along." Wooyoung teases. "I am heavily equipped with the exact location details and everything."

"Mmkay, fair enough." You let out a content sigh. "I wonder what everyone's doing in the city. What their stories are like and what's happening in their lives right now. Do you ever think about stuff like that?"

"I do."

"It's crazy to think about, isn't it? Being in one place at the same time with all these people, filled with millions of different stories."

"It is." You look at the view with a small pout and Wooyoung feels his knees getting weaker over that damn pout. "Anyway." You turn to look at Wooyoung, who is very much still staring down at you in adoration. "What? Why do you keep looking at me like that?"

"What, can I not? You're just really cute, shit, sue me." You roll your eyes playfully before a yawn comes out, and Wooyoung frowns a bit.

"Yikes." You say just as you shake off the yawn.

"Tired?"

"Mm, it's hitting me now."

"The post-drunk crash." He sighs, cupping your cheeks and looking into your eyes. "Come on, let's get you home."

"What if—" You cover another yawn again. "I don't wanna?" He drops his hands back down before grabbing your hand, slowly trailing back to the car.

"Then babygirl, I dunno. I definitely do not recommend sleeping out here, though." He jokes. He could technically take you back home and do all the things he would normally do if this were any other circumstance, any other person. He could have you right where he wants you and have you stay the night.

But, he won't.

He won't do that to you because that's not what you are to him. You aren't just a body, and you aren't a temporary thing. On top of that, he probably should sort through his feelings, his emotions because he's not sure what the fuck he's been feeling all night; he just knows it's kinda different and kinda alarming for someone like him.

Feels serious, too vulnerable.

"Yeah, I agree." You say sleepily, clinging onto Wooyoung's arm as you walk back to the car.

The ride home is quiet, and exhaustion almost completely consumes your body that you barely realize Wooyoung's thumb gently caressing the surface of your hand. You shouldn't get used to the feeling so much, knowing this is might all be for show especially over a summer party. It hurts to think about, but it's not like Wooyoung willingly wanted to be here. Maybe a small part of him did, but at the end of the day, this was purely a favor for his sister. You didn't think he'd catch feelings over one night, no. It wasn't in his nature to. You didn't expect that whatsoever, either. But, you also couldn't help but feel things after the way he treated you tonight. After the way he took care of you so, so well.

Was it wrong to feel infatuated? Was it wrong to feel happy, giddy, after the time you shared? Being in close proximity all evening, sharing little subtle affectionate moments together?

The voice in your head tells you yes, and that you should know better than to think it'd last past this night.

You are you, and Wooyoung is Wooyoung.

"Y/N?" Wooyoung softly taps your thigh. You turn to face him, recognizing the awfully familiar neighborhood behind him. You had been deep in your thoughts, along with the mix of exhaustion, that you didn't know you've already made it home. "Thought you fell asleep. We're here."

"Already?" You give him a tiny, soft smile that he reciprocates before running to your side and helping you out of the car.

"You don't have to walk me."

"Y/N, please. Don't start spitting out nonsense." He says, unbuckling his seatbelt and running over to your door. He tucks a hand into his pocket while waiting for you to step out, shutting it gently behind you. He walks you up the steps to your studio, silently trailing behind even as you fiddle with your keys to open your door. Once you get it open, you turn to him with that angelic smile he's mesmerized by, causing him to smile in return.

"Hope you had a good time tonight."

"I did. I really, really did. Thank you for.. you know? Accompanying me and what not. Everything, really."

"It was fun." He pulls you into a hug, squeezing you gently. When he pulls away, he keeps an arm wrapped around your neck, planting a kiss on your temple. It lights a fire within you, the heat rising to your cheeks when he pulls back and looks down at you. "Get some sleep, okay?"

"You too. Drive safely." You feel the need to reciprocate the kiss somehow, and it doesn't help that Wooyoung lingers around for a second— mainly to make sure you make it inside your studio. With all your thoughts, you still find yourself reasoning with the giddiness you're feeling. You find the courage to tippy-toe and place a chaste kiss on his cheek, rushing into your studio with a soft: "Goodnight!" before shutting the door. Wooyoung silently laughs to himself as he digs his hands into his pocket, nibbling on his bottom lip to prevent himself from smiling too big at the action.

But, his heart is damn near beating out of his chest, another thing that feels pretty unfamiliar but familiar at the same time. The only thing he knows for certain is that it probably can't be good for him—

To feel this way. Forcing himself to walk away from your studio after spending a good evening together. To want to call you even though he's just in his car downstairs. To keep you company until the next morning.

After all, you were starting to feel more than just a favor to him.

Those feelings can't be good for him.

—TAGLIST: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @heyitsmetonid @ldysmfrst @intaksfav

#wooyoung #jung wooyoung #ateez #wooyoung x reader #jung wooyoung x reader #ateez fanfiction #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #kpop imagines #kpop #wooyoung x y/n #jung wooyoung x y/n #wooyoung fluff #wooyoung angst #wooyoung smut #jung wooyoung fluff #jung wooyoung angst #jung wooyoung smut #hwaslayer: vivrant thing

381 notes · View notes

dreamwritesimagines · 11 months ago

Text

The Eye of the Hurricane [4] - Spark

A.N: Here’s the new chapter my loves! ❤️ I hope you’ll like it, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤️

Summary: A quiet night on the rooftop holds new promises.

Word Count: 3500

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

“I’m not saying my best friend in the entire world betrayed me, but I’m kind of tempted to change her name into Brutus in my contacts.”

“Just because she cancelled on this dinner you mentioned?”

“It’s a tradition at this point,” you said, leaning back on the couch. “Us and the Barnes family get together every two months, we’ve started it way before my mom passed away. I get that it’s the bachelorette party of her friend’s sister, but still!”

Dr. Cooper smiled calmly.

“Are you nervous because Bucky is going to be there?”

Your head shot up and you forced a nonchalant laugh.

“Bucky doesn’t make me nervous,” you said, the words coming out of your mouth in a rush and she raised her brows.

“Doesn’t he?”

“He annoys me,” you pointed out. “There’s a difference.”

“I can see that,” she said. “And why does he annoy you?”

Your eyes snapped up at hers and you shifted your weight on the couch.

“We have history.”

She hummed. “What kind of history?”

You nibbled on your lip, your stomach doing a flip at the memory but you pushed it to the back of your mind, rolling your shoulders back.

“Let’s change the subject.”

She thought for a moment, then put aside her notebook to with a sigh.

“Y/N,” she said. “We’ve been having these therapy sessions for three months now, am I correct?”

“Yes,” you said. “Sarah Wilson recommended you, she’s a good friend of mine.”

“And you were seeing Dr. Phillips before?”

“No offense to Dr. Phillips but I don’t think we were a good match.”

She nodded.

“That can happen,” she said. “But I just need to make sure you understand that if these therapy sessions are going to work, you will have to step out of your comfort zone sometimes.”

“Oh, therapy isn’t in my comfort zone,” you said with a wave of your hand. “You’d think it would be, after years and years of experience but…”

“I’m aware this is not what you want to hear but for us to make progress, you will have to be open with me,” she said. “Instead of changing the subject all the time.”

You smiled. “I don’t think me being completely open with you is in your best interest.”

“Why not?”

“Just a hunch,” you stated, your voice completely flat and she hummed.

“How about this?” she said. “Perhaps you could just try sharing something small with me. I’m not saying you have to share every single thing if you’re not comfortable with it, but…maybe something that happened recently and how you reacted to it?”

For some reason, “Someone tried to shoot me a week ago” didn’t feel like it was a great conversation starter so you leaned back, looking up at the ceiling to come up with something.

“I’ve recently found myself in sort of an… unideal situation,” you ended up saying and she nodded her head.

“That’s a wonderful start,” she said. “Can you elaborate?”

“Someone acted very rude towards me the other night when I was having dinner with a friend from college,” you said. “And I was annoyed at how inconsiderate it was to pull that shit when I was in the middle of something. Like what, you couldn’t wait an hour or so to do this on my way back home?”

“How did you react when it happened?”

“I didn’t get to react much because Bucky placed himself in that situation as well.”

“He was there?”

“Passing by,” you spat, “Anyway, he got involved and the situation was resolved pretty fast.”

“In disagreements like these,” she said. “It’s incredibly important that we make our stance and boundaries clear.”

You pursed your lips. “I don’t disagree.”

“So this inconsiderate person you speak of, would you say they know how you feel about the issue?”

You repressed a smile, then leaned back, crossing your legs.

“I think so,” you said. “I expressed very clearly how I felt about the issue and now, well…I’m very certain that they won’t do it again.”

Normally you didn’t mind these dinners mainly because you and Becca would have a lot of fun once the dinner was over. George and Winnifred had always been nice to you and Winnifred had more than once said you were family, seeing that you and Becca were inseparable even when you were little.

And you were hoping Bucky would be busy the whole night so you wouldn’t have to spend the night delivering snarks back and forth.

Ian sipped his wine while you texted Becca under the table, complaining about how she should have been there for the hundredth time since the morning before you lifted your glances from the phone.

“Becca gives her regards, everyone.”

“Oh thank you sweetheart,” your father said. “Will she not be joining us then?”

“There’s apparently her friend’s bachelorette party?” Winnifred asked, turning to you as if she wanted to be sure and you nodded.

“Her friend’s sister’s bachelorette,” you said helpfully and George smiled slightly.

“And when will we see your bachelorette, sweetheart?”

“George!”

“Not soon I hope,” your father said with a chuckle and you waved a hand in the air.

“Definitely not soon,” you said and Ian played with his fork.

“I don’t know,” he said with a scoff. “You keep dating civilians, one of them will ask you to marry them sooner or later.”

Your head snapped up and a silence fell upon the table. George and Winnifred exchanged glances and your father raised his brows.

“Y/N?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Ian doesn’t know what he’s talking about as always.”

“Oh is that right?”

“Our Y/N is a very beautiful girl,” Winnifred said as if trying to de-escalate the situation. “Civilian or not, I’m not surprised many people are interested.”

You offered her a thankful smile and turned to your father.

“I’m not dating civilians,” you assured him. “Or anyone right now.”

“But you know the rules,” your father said. “Any civilian you decide to date has to go through the background check.”

“With good reason,” George pointed out before taking his fork to his mouth and you hummed.

“Yeah yeah, I remember the whole speech.”

“Bucky and Becca got that speech as well.”

“They apparently needed it,” Winnifred said. “I mean do you remember Bucky’s ex girlfriend? Dot?”

That familiar bitterness of jealousy churned your stomach and you pursed your lips, then reached out for your wine glass.

“Were you here around that time sweetheart?” George asked you. “Or were you still away for college?”

The music was booming through the club as you walked back to the bar from the bathroom with Becca, and you looked around for your date as Becca motioned at the bartender, then turned her head when Steve touched her shoulder.

“Hi there.”

“Hey!” Becca kissed him on the cheek and you smiled at him.

“Hi Steve,” you said, taking your cocktail from the bartender. “Um, did you see my date anywhere?”

Steve shot you an apologetic smile. “I told him not to do it.”

Becca sucked on the straw of the cocktail, raising her brows and you frowned.

“What?”

“Bucky.”

Your jaw clenched and you gritted your teeth, putting your drink down.

“Where is he?”

“I just want to remind you that Sam has just bought this club, so he’d be pretty angry if you shot my brother tonight.” Becca pointed out, leaning sideways to Steve’s arm and Steve nodded his head.

“Wouldn’t look good for the club.”

“Where is he, Steve?”

Steve pointed upstairs. “VIP.”

You whirled around on your heels and stomped your way up the cantilever stairs, anger rushing through you. You made your way past his and Sam’s bodyguards by the door, then slammed the door open to step inside. Bucky was talking to Sam as you walked in while a gorgeous girl resting her head on his shoulder and Sam hissed in a breath.

“Uh oh,” he said. “Told you not to do it.”

“Hi Sam.”

“Hi Y/N.”

The girl lifted her head from Bucky’s shoulder as Bucky sat up straighter, and had the nerve to smile at you.

“Hi Charm.”

“Where is my date, Bucky?”

“I think he said he had something to do,” Bucky said, stealing a look at Sam. “Something urgent, right Sam? That’s what we heard.”

“Oh you’re not dragging me into this.”

“I’m sorry, who is this?” the girl asked and Bucky cleared his throat, then motioned between you and her.

“Y/N, this is Dot; my girlfriend.”

Your eyes snapped up to his, that familiar bitterness climbing up your throat but you managed to keep your expression flat.

“Dot, this is Y/N. She’s uh…she’s Becca’s best friend.”

Sam tilted his head to shoot Bucky a look of disbelief.

“You’ve just intimidated Becca’s best friend’s date into leaving the club?” Dot asked, confusion laced in her tone and Sam cleared his throat.

“They grew up together,” he explained to her. “Bucky tends to get overprotective of Y/N, kind of an old habit there.”

Dot pressed a hand on her chest.

“Aw that’s sweet!” she said. “So she’s like a sister to you, Bucky?”

Sam raised his brows as if trying to keep a straight face, then he shook his head slightly while you glared at Bucky.

“Well—” Bucky started but you cut him off.

“What did you say to him?”

“Nothing,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Just a warning. Don’t blame me if you keep dating people who are easily intimidated.”

“Who I date is none of your business.”

“You are Becca’s best friend so it makes it my business—also, you call that dancing?” he asked you. “He was feeling you up, he should be glad he walked out of here with his junk still attached to his body.”

You ran a hand over your face, then turned to Dot.

“Listen, I don’t even know you but you seem nice enough,” you said. “You probably deserve better than an asshole who thinks his dick is made of gold. You could do much better.”

With that, you walked out of the room and slammed the door behind you.

“No, they got together after I returned to the city,” you said. “Like a month after my graduation. I was here, she was pretty nice.”

“I didn’t like her,” Winnifred said and you let out a small laugh.

“And when was the last time you liked anyone he or Becca brought home?”

“When was the last time either of them brought someone I could like?” Winnifred asked back and you held up your hands with a grin, gesturing surrender.

“Daddy is the same,” you said. “But don’t worry, just in case things get serious with a partner, me and Becca came up with a great plan years ago.”

“What is it?”

“We’ll get everyone drunk,” you pointed out, coaxing chuckles out of them. “Should make things easier, at least for the first dinner.”

After dinner, you had excused yourself to go up to the swimming pool on the rooftop, so that you could enjoy the night. After their weekend house, this one was the one you liked the most among Barnes residences; it had such a lovely view of the night sky. You sipped your wine and leaned back on the lounge chair, heaving a sigh and keeping your eyes on the stars.

Becca was still partying with her friends so you were just going to enjoy some peace and quiet until it was time to go home. You loved spending time with George and Winnifred, that wasn’t the problem, but this evening you really weren’t in the mood for Ian’s bullshit. You knew very well that he knew about your date with Ethan, and though he hadn’t told your father yet, you were sure it wasn’t from the goodness in his heart.

Not that he or your father had anything to worry about. You had made sure that Ethan got a background check as your father wanted with all the civilians you dated, back at college and right before you decided to meet again two weeks back, you had done the same. It was safe, whether they approved him or not.

The sound of the door opening made you turn your head and as soon as your eyes fell upon Bucky stepping to the roof, you let out a groan.

“I thought you were busy.”

“I was,” he said, approaching you with a glass of whiskey in his hand before he sat down on the lounge chair beside yours and you stole a look at him.

“You missed dinner.”

“Mm hm. Sorry about that.”

“You never miss dinner.”

“Yeah well, wasn’t exactly my choice,” he said, making you turn a little so that you can look at him better.

“Why?”

“Overtime at the office,” he joked and you tilted your head.

“Trouble?”

“Nothing we can’t handle.”

“Does my father know?”

“He does,” he said as your phone vibrated on the small table beside you, making you check the screen.

From: Ethan

My coworkers dragged me to this café and I think you’d like it.

You smiled slightly and typed back your reply.

Well, the only way to be sure is if you invite me there the next time.

It didn’t even take him five seconds to reply back;

Lunch tomorrow?

You typed in a “Yes” and sent it, then turned the phone in your hand while Bucky lit a cigarette.

“Is that the civilian?”

“Ugh, not you too!” you whined with a grimace. “Everyone already gave me the third degree at dinner, you’d think I’m going to elope at any time.”

He shot you a light hearted glare. “They’re just worried about you sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that—and also, you’ve dated one hundred civilians, I don’t see anyone giving you speeches,” you grumbled. “It’s so hypocritical, not to mention medieval.”

Bucky chuckled, then sipped his drink.

“Well…”

“I don’t know why everyone keeps acting like the possibility of me ending up with a civilian would be a disaster.”

“Because it would be.”

“No, you know what the disaster would be?” you asked him. “Me ending up with someone from the business.”

“Oh come on—”

“Pop out a few babies, pretend I don’t know about his mistresses and go to pilates for the rest of my life,” you mused. ��Dream life right there.”

“It doesn’t have to be like that and you know that,” Bucky said. “Only an idiot would cheat on you, and in case it has escaped your notice, idiots don’t live long in this line of work.”

You suppressed a smile threatening to warm your face, and instead rolled your eyes at him.

“Not worth the effort,” you said as you downed your wine, then held out your glass in his direction. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards but he still grabbed the wine bottle on the floor to fill your glass.

“Thank you.”

“As the princess wishes,” he said and you heaved a sigh, then leaned back again to look up at the sky.

“What’s going on with the business?” you asked. “Are you and Stark still on bad terms?”

“We’re playing nice,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Common interests for once.”

“I’ll pop the champagne,” you deadpanned. “He looks pretty busy; he and my father have a meeting next week as well.”

“Will Ian be there?”

You heaved a sigh. “I’d assume so.”

Bucky ran a hand over his face, then turned to you.

“Your father is not serious, is he?” he asked you. “He’s not actually going to name Ian as his successor?”

That familiar bitter taste burned your mouth but you pursed your lips together, then slipped a little on the lounge chair.

“Why are you asking me?” you asked. “Go ask him that.”

“I’m not going to do business with Ian, Charm.” Bucky told you. “If your father retires and names him the successor, that’s it.”

Your jaw dropped as you gawked at him.

“You cannot be serious,” you said. “Just because you don’t like him—”

“It’s not just that,” Bucky said. “Stark and I hate each other’s guts, but I still know he’s not going to break the truce or stab me in the back. Ian, on the other hand…”

“Ian is insufferable,” you said. “Trust me I’d know, I live with the guy. But breaking the truce is a death sentence, and he’s not an idiot.”

“I don’t trust him,” Bucky said. “Neither does Steve, or Sam.”

You massaged your temples with your fingertips. “Don’t put me in a position where I have to speak well of Ian.”

“You couldn't speak well of him if you tried,” he insisted before he took a sip of his whiskey. “Listen, I get why your father made the decision he made after your mother, but that was then. You can’t tell me you’re okay with this.”

You bit inside your cheek, swirling the wine in your glass.

“He promised it to me, Bucky,” you said through your teeth, your gaze fixed on your wine. “All those years ago. I was playing with dolls in the car and and my father pointed outside and told me that part of the city would belong to me when I grew up. So no, of course I’m not okay with the possibility of Ian being the successor.”

“Then take over.”

A small laugh climbed up your throat and you nodded at his whiskey glass. “How many of those have you had?”

“You know me better than that, I’m completely sober,” he said. “Why wouldn’t you take over?”

“Don’t you remember what went down in Massachusetts years ago?” you asked. “That family fight for the crown? They almost brought the whole city down with them, alliances got fucked, so many people died...”

“That was very different, there was no truce there.”

You clicked your tongue. “Still. It would devastate my father if I started a war in the family.”

“Ian is going to burn your father’s empire down,” Bucky told you, his piercing blue eyes locked in yours, making your heart skip a beat. “You think it won’t devastate him to watch that? If you want to be the next leader—”

“Of course I want it,” you cut him off, your whole body tense. “What I want changes nothing here.”

“Charm…”

“My father made sure I stayed out of the business since my mom,” you said. “Which was good strategy on his part, I admit. Ian on the other hand has many friends in the business and they’re completely loyal to him. He would not just hand that position to me, not when he thinks my father will name him as the successor instead of me.”

“He has his men, so what?” he asked you. “Compared to the support you would have if you wanted the crown? You have more allies than Ian.”

You blinked a couple of times, a small glimmer of hope warming your chest before you cleared your throat.

“There’s the code,” you muttered. “It’s family business. No one outside the family can get involved in the decision of who the next leader should be.”

A small smile pulled at his lips and for the thousandth time you couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was, but then you frowned down at your wine glass and put it on the small table, rolling your shoulders back.

Yeah. Enough wine for the night.

“But a powerful ally in the family would make everything much easier, wouldn’t it?” he asked and you scoffed a laugh.

“My hypothetical rise to power?” you asked. “Obviously. But either way, it’d be an uphill battle. What with the city and family and everything…”

“It doesn’t have to be,” he said without pulling his gaze off you and you felt your cheeks burn under his intense stare, but managed to keep your expression completely nonchalant.

“No?”

“Not at all.”

“And how’s that?”

Bucky swallowed thickly and downed his whiskey in one go before straightening his back. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought he was nervous but of course that was nonsense; Bucky was too arrogant to be nervous.

“Come on,” you taunted him. “Humor me, golden heir.”

“Well,” he said after a pause, turning his empty glass in his hand. “You have a point. You would have to get most of Ian’s supporters within the family, you would have to persuade your father, and considering Ian will not want to hand you the crown, that whole process would not go very peacefully. Me, Steve and Sam already support you, but the rest of the families could take some time and effort to convince. I guess some bloodshed in the city would be inevitable as well, it’d be a huge change, considering your father’s influence and power…”

You hummed. “Or?”

A smile curled his lips upwards and he took a deep breath.

“Or,” he said. “You could marry me.”

Chapter 5

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes #mob!bucky #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky x reader #mob boss!bucky #mob bucky x reader #mob boss bucky barnes #bucky x reader #mafia bucky x reader #mafia!bucky barnes #mafia!bucky #mob au #mob! bucky #mob bucky #mob bucky barnes x reader #mob!au

540 notes · View notes