#so now i'm looking at just getting a second desk

[thiccpersonality]

5 Times Bruce Was Protective of His Pups (+2 Times They Were Protective of Him)

4: The Girls

⚠️WARNING⚠️: there is suicide mentions and attempts in this chapter. Nothing overly graphic, but it is mentioned, so I just thought I should forewarn of that just in case my loves.

Enjoy! 💛

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Barbara remembers when she first met Batman, it was a pivotal moment in her life, a time where she was just an insecure teenager trying to find her way in the world. She remembers being bright eyed and curious towards her Uncle Jim when she found out he worked with the mysterious Batman; Gotham's faithful caped protector. But before that, it was a point and time in her life that she doesn't like remembering too often (before meeting the Bat that is), she was still suffering the loss of her parents even after all the years of coping–okay, maybe coping isn't the right word exactly? 

Try: lashing out and being rebellious.

It seems as if everything in her life got harder after her parents tragic passing: she couldn't concentrate in school anymore, she could start fights as much as she defended herself from them, she talked back in a way she never used to before, her moods felt unstable most days and seemed to grow worse the older she got, etc.

She felt like the world was out to get her now that her parents-her protection-went away.

As if just because her guardians are no longer in her life that it gives the world the right to bully her.

There were times that she felt guilty over her attitude...especially towards her uncle, he was nothing but patient and kind to her, even when she was being an ass to him, and he quickly started to become like a second dad to her. Something that made Barbara feel guilty and distressed, because it's not like she was trying to replace her biological father, she just...she just recognized that firm yet gentle attitude Jim has as being similar in a way only a father's can be like. Sometimes she believes that's why she talked to Uncle Jim the way she did as a teen, all because she felt guilt over 'replacing' her parents when that's not what it was at all, she was just finally learning to move on.

Barbara may not like to look back at her teenage years too fondly, but she does hold close the sincere affection from her uncle and the day she met Batman, a day that she'll never forget as long as she lives.

————°————

Barbara stumbles back into her teacher's desk, her eyes red and tears hot as they pour from her eyes, her breathes sharp as she loudly inhales for air. Glare held onto the door where another student is being dragged out of it by another teacher, a feeling of satisfaction bubbling up in her chest at the sight of their nose dripping with blood, it's what they get for picking on her so much. The young teen snaps out of her anger induced haze at the feel of a cool cloth being softly pressed to her knuckles, her red rimmed eyes being drawn up to her math teacher. "Barbara."

The ginger only responds with a sniffle, avoiding her teacher's stare in favor of looking at the chalkboard.

"Barbara-" they sigh softly-"you know I'm going to have to call your uncle. You promised me that you wouldn't get into any more altercations with other students, and this fight ended up with someone's nose being bloody."

The girl furrows her brows in displeasure, glaring at the chalkboard at the thought of her uncle finding out about another fight...again. "It wasn't my fault! Lorraine is always being a jerk to me all the time. She started the fight by cornering me...so I decided to end it." Barbara hisses as the pain in her knuckles finally registers, the washcloth dabbing softly at the cuts to her hands, the adult humming at their student's side of the story. "Okay, she shouldn't have cornered you, I agree with that. But, you are a very bright girl, Barbara, and sadly in public school there are...rules and ways both teachers and students have to conduct themselves, okay? I know most of the fights you get into are with bullies...but there's only so many times I can try sticking up for you before the school expels you-"

Barbara snatches her hands away from the cloth, her eyes stinging with unshed tears from the unfair treatment, "But why don't they expel the kids who are picking on me?! I'm not allowed to do anything for myself." The adult opens their mouth to try and explain, closing it instead and pulling out ointment for Barbara to put on her cuts while softly telling her, "Make sure to use it this time...stop letting it hurt on purpose. I'm going to call your uncle now, try to cool down and remember that there's snacks in the lower drawer."

Barbara rolls her eyes and sits in the teacher's chair instead, resting her face in the crook of her arms and forsaking the ointment, dropping it in one of her backpack's side pockets and closing her eyes to think.

.

.

.

.

"-bara." A hand gently rests on the teens shoulder, shaking her body gently. "Barbara, wake up, it's time to head on home." A soft groan escapes the sleeping figure, Barbara sitting up with her eyes closed and smacking her lips as she tries to wake up, when did she even fall to sleep?

The sound of the voice speaking quietly to her registers in Barbara's sleep addled mind, her eyes snapping open to look up at her Uncle Jim Gordon, guilt rising up in her at seeing how tired the other man looks...probably because of her. "Hi...I don't wanna go home right now." The older man stares at his niece before conceding with a tired sigh, "Alright...we won't go home yet. How does burgers sound to you?" Jim nods in thanks to the math teacher before leading Barbara out of the classroom, the girl humming in thought before answering. "It depends on if burgers come with fries and a milkshake?" Jim smirks at his niece, deciding that he can spend a few extra bucks on the younger, what he wanted to say being forgotten as he finally gets a good look at Barbara, frowning at her puffy eyes and scratched knuckles. "Babs, what happened to your hands? Did you get into another fight today?" Jim questions, snatching one of the girl's hands into his own, stopping them in the middle of the school entrance and watching his niece's face closely as she frowns in displeasure.

"Mr. Halloway didn't tell you?" 

Barbara chances a glance at the older man, shoulders tensing at the unhappy look he's giving her. "So...he didn't tell you, why did you even come here when you didn't know what happened?"

Jim rubs at his forehead with a sigh, his tone matter of fact, as if what he's saying is something the younger should already know. "Why wouldn't I come and get you? Your teacher said that you needed me to come to you...it sounded really serious-" he stops as the shorter snatches her hand away, hiding the bruised flesh behind her back as she rolls her eyes, clicking her tongue at the man's concern.

"Well it's nothing, so, you came here for no reason. It was just a fight. I could have walked home by myself."

Barbara makes her way out of the school and towards her uncle's car, the man hot on her heels as she tries to downplay the situation, his voice tight with barely restrained emotion towards his niece. "Barbara-wait! Would you just...stop for one second-" he gently grabs the girl's wrist-"I came here for a perfectly good reason; you are that reason and that's all I need to go anywhere for you. And second, you know I don't like you walking home alone. Third, you keep getting into fights...there is obviously something going on and I want to know what that is, but I can't try to help when you won't open up to me and say anything. And Mr. Halloway called me but didn't explain because he said he wanted you to have the choice to do so."

Barbara digs her nails into the palms of her hands, pulling her wrist away from her uncle's careful hold as she narrows her eyes at him accusingly.

"Cut it with the shit! You always say you'll be there for me when I need you, but you weren't there when my parents died, were you?!" Her words are sharp as she hisses at the older man, like knives expertly targeting its mark as they dig into his heart, Jim frowning down sadly at Barbara.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Barbara, I tried to help your father in any way that I could, but-"

Barbara doesn't know what came over her...she just feels like everyone is against her lately, always making excuses as to why people are able to treat her the way they do, always an excuse as to why she isn't allowed to act the way she does.

Jim sucks in a sharp breath at the stinging slap to his cheek, it's not the worst hit he's taken...but his eyes water simply because of who it's coming from, he doesn't know what to say to start helping Barbara. Eversince her mother and father's passing, there's been a rift between their relationship because he-he wasn't there for the family in the way he should have been, he knows deep down that there's not much he could have done, he can't help someone that doesn't want to be helped, and seeing his brother's alcohol addiction slowly consume his life was soul crushing; to see the person he ate, slept, played with and fought with lose himself to the bottom of a bottle just like their father was a horrifying realization.

But he tried.

God, did Jim try to get his brother help, especially when seeing his behavior change towards his wife and daughter: getting snippier, shouting and screaming for no reason, putting his hands on people, harshly speaking to his daughter in a way that was deeply concerning.

Barbara was a bit too young and innocent at the time to truly pay much attention to those things, not saying she didn't notice them, but she always made little excuses for her dad to avoid the revelation of just how much her father has changed. Every question he would ask his little niece about their home life whenever he next saw her was met with the innocent exclamation of, "My daddy's just a bit tired from work! He throws tantrums like I do sometimes when I'm sleepy!" It hurt to see. But there wasn't much he could do as his sister-in-law didn't want to press charges at the time, she loved his brother so much that it hurt, all for the sake of trying to stay long enough to help him seek help.

Every plead to her for herself and Barbara to live in his little apartment as long as they needed went unheard as the woman insisted that all she needed was enough time for her husband to grasp what she was begging to him about. That one day it'd click and he'd understand the severity of his actions.

But that day never came.

It was a surprisingly cool summer afternoon when it happened; a Saturday, when Jim and Barbara excitedly waved off her parents, the family excited as Roger woke up that day suddenly agreeing to rehab and therapy to deal with personal issues that were causing him to drink.

It was too good to be true, but Jim and Barbara thought nothing of it, celebrating with pizza and ice cream while his niece jumped around the house screaming about how her daddy was finally going to be better. Things were going so well too that day, Roger even having a surprisingly cheerful countenance as he told the family about his decision, the soft look in his eyes unassuming as he looked at his teary eyed daughter; they thought it was just him realizing how much he loves his family.

The too tight-almost desperate-hug Roger gave to Jim and Barbara before leaving was chalked up to a promise that things will only get better from there.

And the kiss the man gave to his wife was slow and passionate; intimate, as if it was a goodbye, the woman just giggling into the kiss as she called Roger's name breathlessly-and somewhat fretfully-at the fact he kissed her that way in front of family. No one thought anything of Roger taking the car keys from Thelma with a small smirk on his face, insistent on how he really wants to drive as he gave one last close look at his brother and daughter before leaving. 

It was only a few hours later when Jim received a call, his sleep being interrupted as he reached for his phone quickly, hoping that he wasn't being called in for work...but anything would have been better than what he answered to.

A car crash; suicide.

He arrived at the scene after leaving his worried and confused niece with a trustworthy neighbor, walking up to a sorrowful looking police partner as they handed him a suicide note that was carefully placed in a small, beautifully decorated jewelry box taped inside the glove compartment with a necklace for Barbara inside of it. The note mentioned that Roger loved his family a lot, especially Barbara, and that he never wants her to think anything that happened was her fault...but that he was unwell for a long time and sought help on his own, stating that the drinks never truly filled that hole inside of him due to the cracks inside, he can't stay full when there's leaks inside the building. He asked for Jim to take care of his daughter and be there for her in a way that he couldn't, that he made the decision to take Thelma with him because he knew she'd be heartbroken if he died on his own, but that Jim and Barbara are strong enough to continue living their lives.

Jim felt like throwing away the note because he felt so...so...angry at his brother for doing what he did, he hated thinking it, but he felt like Roger was being cowardly. Running as he always did like when they were growing up and things got too hard for him, never properly wanting to face the consequences of his actions and leaving anyone and everyone who's ever cared about him to deal with the fallout of it.

It was surreal to go back home to Barbara, the small pup running up to him with her nose twitching, scenting her uncle's distressed scent as she bumped her head carefully into his legs and hugged onto him, trying to comfort him even though she didn't know what was going on yet.

It was the moment he told her what happened that their relationship shifted with each other.

And now, after a few years later, Jim is left with a bitter and upset teenager.

The alpha blinks away his tears-and his thoughts-breathing out slowly, opening the door for his niece and gesturing for her to get in the car. Barbara grinds her teeth together, looking down at her hands and cursing herself for being so difficult, she didn't mean to hit her uncle. A part of her wants to apologize, but another stubborn part of her insists that she has no reason to, so, she keeps her lips shut tight as Jim sits in the driver's seat.

"What burger do you want? The usual you always get?"

Barbara looks at the alpha in disbelief...she...hit him out of anger...and he wants to feed her?

The teen feels her lip wobble in guilt, sitting on her hands to keep them from doing something impulsive to hurt herself with and lowering her head so that her orange hair falls down slightly trembling shoulders to cover the remorseful look she knows that is on her face. "Home."

Jim bites at his lip to stop himself from saying anything to the beta, sighing tiredly and turning on the car so they can head on home.

XXX

Barbara jumps out of the car as soon as it's in park, ignoring her uncle calling for her as she pulls out the extra house key from her backpack and unlocks the door, slamming it in Jim's face just for show at this point, still not wanting the older man to know just how sorry she feels.

The girl rushes to her room and shuts it quickly at hearing the front door opening, locking it and resting her head against it, finally allowing her tears of regret and frustration to fall. "Shit, Barbara, what were you thinking? Are you stupid or something?" She tugs at her hair harshly in the hopes of grounding herself, dumping her backpack onto the floor and pushing away from the door to flop onto her bed, burying her face in the pillow and screaming into it before turning her head to the side to look at her slightly busted knuckles.

Barbara sighs as she flexes her fingers, breath hitching as the torn skin stings slightly from the stretch, her eyes drifting to the fallen backpack by her door as she thinks about what Mr. Halloway said, "Stop letting it hurt on purpose." 

The slight pain to her hand brings Barbara out of her thoughts, sighing as her stomach also rumbles loudly in hunger, the young girl rolls onto her back and groans up at the ceiling as she whispers to herself, "Should've went for that burger." The beta squints her eyes in deep thought before turning to rummage through her drawer, pulling out enough cash from saving her allowance to get a burger and fries, "I don't need anyone. I can walk on my own."

Barbara rolls off her bed and stuffs the cash inside of her shoe, tiptoeing over to the window and opening it, shivering at the cool autumn air that brushes against her cheek...at least the walking will keep her warm enough.

The beta climbs down the fire escape, feeling satisfied with leaving her window open so that when Jim comes to check on her all he sees is proof that she "ran off". It's not like she's sneaking out for any bad reasons anyway, she's just really hungry and is going to get herself something to eat...it's not the end of the world just because she decided to walk outside alone, a girl needs her space sometimes.

Barbara allows her mind to wander as she walks, inhaling the crisp autumn air as she feels some of her worries lift a little, she enjoys this season a lot: the changing of the leaves, the soups and warm drinks one consumes during this time of year, the chill to the air that can be the right amount of cool. It's a bit of a bittersweet feeling this season brings too...but she thinks that it's better than feeling so lost, alone and angry as she has been as of late, this time reminds her of her parents and when things were generally going good for her family, her mom always loved to decorate their house with little pumpkins strewn about the room, the omega doing anything she could to get her hands on fall themed apparel to cover her family from head to toe with.

And her dad.

Barbara can almost smell the cinnamon apple tart her dad loved to bake around this time of year, can taste the cinnamon hot chocolate he always allowed her to help make with him.

She just wants to know where it all went wrong...her parents marriage didn't seem to be rocky at the time, and there wasn't anything that she saw or overheard her father struggling with, but it seemed like one night out at the bar turned to two and two into three and so on. Barbara remembers the day her Uncle Jim told her about the accident, she was stunned into silence as he carefully handed the wooden jewelry box to her, not knowing how to feel at the sight of a beautifully delicate necklace with her name engraved on the front.

But she did know how to feel at the, 'I love you always, my heart', that was on the inside of the heart shaped locket; angry. 

Barbara felt as if the words were a lie, because who leaves behind their ten year old daughter to fend for herself just when things started to get better? But, she knew it wasn't her parents fault for someone else's mistake...if anything, she always thought that if anyone would get into a drunk driving accident, that it would be her father and not some stranger who was stupid enough to be on the road at the wrong time.

She remembered thinking about how she'll find the perpetrator someday and bring them in for the murder of her parents-or kill them herself-she's not too picky.

The beta still has the wooden box stashed away in her room...even though she was in pain and hurting from her father getting into a drunk driving accident, she could never find enough strength to open up the box and wear the necklace like how she promised she would, she just stashed it away and never wore the one thing that would remind her of what she loved most. Barbara shakes herself out of her thoughts as she's arrived at her destination, breathing on her cold fingers as she steps inside of the warm building and taking a seat first, giving her own body time to warm up before she thinks of ordering.

The beta sits there for a few minutes, blankly staring at a stain on the table as her mind wanders off again, snapping out of it at a cheery voice speaking to her.

"Mind if I sit here with you?! Looks like there's lots of room!"

Barbara looks up at the stranger, taking note of his fancy looking school uniform and raising a brow at the tray full of two double cheeseburgers and large fries on the boy's tray. "Cheap burgers? You look like you could afford anything you want and you choose to eat this food?"

The beta frowns as the other takes her response as an okay to take a seat across from her, "I don't think I could afford anything on my own? But my mom can! And cheap, greasy burgers are what I like to eat best-don't tell Alfred that though!" The boy-that Barbara surmises is about her age or a bit older or younger...she can't really tell-just smiles giddily at her, the beta's nose twitching as she scents the other and smells the alpha trying to develop on him, the boy not bothered at all by her hesitation. "Uh...who in the world is Alfred?"

The young alpha sticks his nose up and shakes his head, "Sorry. Can't tell you that. I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."

Barbara's hesitation turns to irritation as she scoffs and crosses her arms, "Whatever. You're the idiot that-" she blinks in surprise at the hand the other suddenly extends, that stupidly infuriatingly happy smile still on the boy's face as he introduces himself, "I'm Richard! And what's your name, fair maiden? That way I can tell you who Alfred is without getting into trouble for talking to strangers."

The alpha keeps his hand in midair, shaking it around when all she does is stare at it as if it's an alien species.

Barbara rolls her eyes and slowly brings her hand up to shake Richard's hand, not able to control the smirk as the other shakes it up and down enthusiastically. "My name's Barbara...good sir?"

Richard smiles at the girl's attempt to play along, nodding his head and pushing his tray to the middle of the table and gesturing for her to eat his food. "A name that fits the beauty of the girl who bears it-" his blue eyes drift down to the scrapes and cuts on her hands-"What happened to the hands though? Looks like you punched something."

Barbara leans back against her seat and blows a stray hair out of her eye with a proud smirk, "Try someone."

The boy gasps, eyes shining as he leans forward like a little predator, "Tell me more! Some reason I've been cursed to never see a fight break out at my school-I mean, where's the drama and sense of adventure with those people? Anyway, why'd you punch someone? Were they messing with you-oh, oh! Maybe you were playing the hero and saved someone from being bullied?"

Barbara shakes her head, "If by someone you mean me...then yes. That skank Lorraine deserved it." She growls with a small sniffle, turning her nose up defiantly.

Richard nods in agreement while biting into a fry, "Yeah! Wait...who is Lorraine and why is she a skank-excuse my language."

Barbara finally takes a fry and pops it into her mouth, shaking her head with a tsk, "You have to tell me who Alfred is first and then I'll tell you about Lorraine. So?" The boy perks up and nods, pushing one of his burgers the beta's way, "He's like my grandpa and the family butler."

Barbara furrows her brows as she bites into the burger, voice muffled slightly from the food in her mouth. "B't...s'he the gr'pa or b'tl'r?"

The alpha just smiles and nods, "Yes! But he's the greatest butler-grandpa that any kid could ever ask for. His cooking is really good and he smells really nice and he feeds me good food. That's why I said don't let him know that I said I prefer cheap, greasy burgers...he would feel offended at my taste-or lack thereof-in food."

Barbara snorts in amusement, feeling herself relax under this strange boy's innocently genuine ardor. "Yeah...well, I don't think you have to worry about Alfred finding out about anything, I don't even know who he is or what he looks like...so you are covered there." She bites at her burger again, looking up from her food at the feeling of the alpha's expectant look, slowly realizing what he's waiting for and clearing her throat when she's done chewing. "Right, Lorraine. I don't think there's much to say about her other than she sucks. I...tend to get into a lot of fights at school, and then I'm the one that gets into trouble for it. And while I have started my fair share of fights, it's only because Lorraine and her flock of mindless, spineless bimbo and himbo zombies for 'friends' pick on me. My parents always taught me to stick up for myself and that's exactly what I'm doing."

Richard frowns sympathetically at her, chewing on a fry as he shakes his head disappointedly. "And this is exactly what's wrong with our society today-" he leans forward with an impish gleam in his eyes-"Whaddya say about me convincing my mom to transfer me to your school? He has the money to do it without an issue...and I'm sure I can make a convincing enough presentation for him to allow it."

Barbara hates how easily Richard is able to make her feel happy without an issue, she's almost jealous of the way happiness seems to come naturally to the other.

"Your mom makes you do presentations whenever you wanna do something? I admit...you don't seem like a bad kid, but why would you even come to my school, there's nothing special there? And what would you even say to convince him to transfer you? Cause I'm pretty sure the only reason is that you want to beat someone up, Mr. Where's The Drama." Barbara smiles at Richard and tilts her head, genuinely curious as to what his answers will be.

The alpha places his hand on his chest and gasps in mock offense, "Does it really look like little ol' me could beat up anyone? And mama only makes me present certain things cause he says I need to learn to negotiate things better, says he won't have a son that's easily taken advantage of by sweet words and seemingly good deals...we don't want another zun house incident-anyway! I would come to your school because I'm a good person and want to help a new friend out, and only for that reason, thank you very much! And the thing that would make my mom transfer me issssss—drumroll please?" He drums his fingers against the table, "You are a kid!"

Barbara bites her lip so she doesn't smile so hard, a chuckle escaping her at the reason. "I'm a kid? That's really your strongest powerpoint? I see why your mom makes you do a dissertation explaining why you want to do the things you do, you give such sloppy explanations for yourself." Richard pouts and throws a fry at Barbara's head, smirking at her shout of protest towards the 'attack'. "It's not sloppy, it's camp, Barbara. And you're right...I was wrong, I would have to mention that you are a sad and lonely looking kid too." 

The beta gapes at Richard, stuttering and crossing her arms defensively, she doesn't know if he meant that to hurt or what? It definitely seems like he's being serious which is almost so much worse than him trying to be meanspirited about it—at least dealing with jerks is what she's used to.

No, wait.

Something in Richard's eyes looks oddly...perceptive, causing an emotional whiplash for the girl at how his gaze seems carefully watchful; analytical, gone is the playful shine to his eyes in favor of adopting an odd sort of hardness to them...though Barbara doesn't necessarily feel scared because of the look, at least not for any bad reason. It's just...jarring for the boy's eyes to look so intense while his face is still open and friendly, it's as if his eyes scream of a whole different person that the beta doesn't know about, his stare seeming to strip her down to the bone until nothing but her vulnerable little heart is left on display for him to see.

That's the thing that is scaring her.

And scare her it does, enough for her to stretch over the table to cover the boy's eyes, uncaring of the salt and grease on her hands as she's now left with the alpha's friendly smile.

Yeah...that is definitely creepy how different he appears with just his eyes covered.

"Don't be an ass...I'm not a sad or lonely looking little kid-" Barbara hopes her voice isn't as strained as she feels it is-"What in your drama loving mind made you think that?" Gosh, she doesn't even know what possessed her to ask, but there's almost a desperation to know what he thinks.

Richard taps around the table–searching–until he lands on a fry, popping it into his mouth with a thoughtful hum, "I love a good drama just as much as the next person...but I wasn't trying to be an ass-excuse my language-about it. I noticed the way you were spacing out over here-" Barbara's eyes widen in shock at the finger that rests on her lips to keep her quiet, as if he knew she was going to protest-"and before you say anything sarcastic about it, it wasn't just because you were spacing out that I felt something was off. You...you have that look in your eyes, you know? The one that shouldn't be in anyone's gaze...but especially a kid's."

Barbara feels a bit of that irritation flare up at the accuracy of his claims, but she also feels an odd sense of relief that fills her at being seen for how she actually feels; sad and lonely.

The beta sniffles and plops back into her seat, avoiding eye contact with the alpha and shrugging, "Maybe those dissertations aren't always so sloppy?" She manages a small smile at the surprised laugh escaping Richard, glancing his way as he taps his temple with his index finger. "I still know how to use my brain properly! Just because I'm silly it doesn't mean I'm stupid." Barbara nods and studies the kid as he looks outside the window, his eyes scanning the busy sidewalk as if in search of someone specific, her curiosity is peaked by her new...friend, she doesn't think she's met anyone quite as interesting and perceptive as Richard before.

The two now remain in a surprisingly tranquil quietness, eating their now cool burgers and (somehow) still slightly warm fries in companionable silence.

Barbara can feel herself growing a bit sad as they both finish their food, the boy wiping away any stray crumbs or salt flakes from the table with a napkin and back onto his tray. The silence being broken as Richard softly asks, "Was it both your parents? A parent maybe?" With a small gasp, Barbara looks back up into Richard's eyes again, only to be met with a familiar look in his eyes as he stares at her, his gaze sorrowful and apologetic towards whatever it is she had to go through. 

Barbara feels her eyes watering again, nodding and wiping at her tears to try and get them to stop. "M-My mom and dad. S-Same day. Car accident. D-Drunk driving"

Richard hums and stands from his seat, wrapping his arms around the girl and crying with her when he feels tears wetting the front of his shirt, resting his cheek against the other's head and close to her ear so what he says next is heard by her alone. "I'm sorry, Barb. Mine-" he swallows down the lump in his throat-"mine died on the same day too. It was a murder."

Barbara's eyes widen and she peeks up at the boy, her eyes widened in horror, "W-Were you there to...you know?"

At the young alpha's slow nod, she hugs onto him tighter and sniffles while rubbing his back comfortingly. "T-That's–I'm sorry you had to witness that, I can't imagine how you fe-"

Barbara gasps as one of his hands reaches behind his back to tap at her knuckles softly, the bruised flesh aching the tiniest bit as he does so. "I think you know exactly how I felt...you are still in the process of it and sometimes I still am too, but it's not impossible to-to try moving on...I think it's what our parents would want us to do because they loved us. You should try taking care of your hands when you get back home to whoever you decided to freak out today, don't let the pain stay and become you."

"Master Richard?"

Barbara and said alpha both turn their heads to the entrance, the beta sniffling and pulling away from the warm embrace to rub at her eyes, immediately knowing that the older alpha looking imploringly at Richard is definitely an Alfred...he does smell nice and looks like the best grandpa-butler ever.

Richard glances at Barbara, smiling when the beta turns playful and zips her lips shut, mouthing, "Your secret is safe with me."

The young alpha's smile is blinding as he chuckles and mouths, "Thank you", back at her with a playful wink while exclaiming a little too loudly about how he hopes to see her again someday. Barbara waves goodbye as she watches the two leave the restaurant, a coldness consuming her as she makes up in her mind to head home as quickly as possible.

XXX

Barbara curses softly to herself as she stumbles in through the window, knocking over the pencil holder on her desk and looking up to the bedroom door worriedly, half expecting her uncle to come busting through before she realizes after a minute of standing still that the alpha didn't even hear her. "Thank God-" she mutters and crawls the rest of the way in, shutting the window as softly as she can and smiling victoriously as she got away with it-"Maybe I should go apologize?"

The young beta bites her lip when thinking about Richard and Alfred, at how-even though she barely knows them-the two looked to be close with the way the younger wrapped his arms around the older as they walked away.

The boy also mentioned something about not letting things hurt-just like her teacher did-and even how moving on is possible...she is...not really realizing it-but more so focusing properly on what she knew was already there, how she's afraid of moving on and allowing herself to grow beyond the pain she's felt for a couple years now. Barbara knows that she's almost slipped up and called her Uncle Jim dad before...and that was something that horrified her-that still scares her-and out of that fear she treats her uncle unfairly.

Barbara makes her way over to the door, reaching for the handle and pausing when she sees that it's already cracked open, her curiosity peaked as she calls for her uncle.

"Uncle Jim!" Barbara cracks open the door and pokes her head out with a frown on her face when she doesn't get an answer, that's weird...it's not like her uncle to ignore her calls, he always responds no matter what, even if she's just trying to get on his nerves. "Uncle Jim!?" She tries to ignore the anxiety scratching at her chest as she thinks that maybe he's finally left her, that maybe after dealing with her attitude so much he's finally thrown in the towel and left her alone as she so often screams for the alpha to do.

Barbara swallows down the whimper that wants to escape her and rushes to her uncle's bedroom, poking her head into the dark room and hoping she'll see his sleeping form under the covers.

"Crap!" The beta hisses at the unruffled sheets, rushing out of the room and back to her own to dig through her backpack and pull out her phone, freezing over her uncle's phone number when realizing that's probably why she can't find him, he went to look for her. Barbara curses herself again and looks at the thirty plus missed calls from the alpha and the abundance of text messages asking where she's at and to come back home, that feeling of guilt and shame overtaking her earlier anxiety at how much she's truly putting her uncle through, texting a quick I'm home because she doesn't feel brave enough to call him herself.

After her message goes through, the young teen mutes her phone in worry of the older man's possible response towards her, tossing her phone on her bed and burying her face in her hands. One minute she's in her room and the next Barbara knows, her feet and instincts have carried her to the comfort of her uncle's bedroom and onto his bed, her nose seeking out the man's comforting scent left in the pillows as she buries her face in them.

A whine escapes her as it doesn't feel like enough...she wants her uncle, not the pillows or the bed. She wants to be wrapped in a warm hug and cuddles–why did she ever tell him to leave her alone?

Barbara sniffles and wraps her arms comfortingly around herself before heading over to the closet, searching through it in the hopes of finding something to cover herself with that is her uncle's, her eyes being caught on a familiar looking coat pushed into the very back of the closet, a shocked hiccup escaping her as she reaches for the coat Jim wore the day her parents died. She feels like she shouldn't be reaching for it...let alone putting it on, but there's an odd sense of comfort she feels as she slips the heavy jacket on.

For her, it's a symbol of strength and comfort as this is the same coat her uncle wrapped her up in the day he told her about the accident, the beta's fingers shakily buttoning up the coat and sighing in relief as the warmth consumes her.

Barbara hums contentedly into the collar of the coat, stuffing her hands in the pockets and growing confused at the paper she feels in the right pocket of it. The girl sniffles and steps into the light of the bedroom, eyebrows furrowing in deep thought at the familiar looking scribbles on the piece of paper...why does it look so recognizable?

Blue eyes scan the now open paper slowly as she slowly realizes why the scrawl looks so familiar, it's because her father wrote it. But why would her uncle have a note from her father in his pocket? Barbara feels her heart race as she reads the note, so caught up in the letter that she doesn't hear the front door slamming open and Jim calling her name fretfully, her eyes are glued onto each word as the truth is revealed: her father committed suicide and he took his wife–her mother–with him.

"Barb-" Jim sighs in relief at seeing the young teen standing in his room-"where did you go? I called and I texted you but you never responded."

The alpha frowns at the lack of a response, his concern growing at the scent of tears in the air, a soothing rumble escaping his chest as he steps closer to the girl, eyes widening as the hand he tries to set over her shoulder is slapped away. "Why...why did you never tell me?" Her voice is watery as she asks, turning around and holding up the paper accusingly to her uncle's face, "You told me that it was a drunk driver. Why did you-I don't-my father committed suicide and you never told me?" Barbara narrows her eyes at the taller, laughing incredulously at the look on her uncle's face. "And what's that look for? Disappointed that I finally found out the truth, huh?! You thought you could keep this from me forever and that-that I'd what? Move on someday and be happy thinking someone else killed my parents and got away with it? You thought I couldn't-" her voice wavers-"couldn't handle knowing I wasn't enough for him."

Jim's eyes widen and he shakes his head, a distressed sound escaping him as he stares at the girl's trembling form. "T-That's not what it is, Barbara, I promise that it's not sweetheart. Y-Your father...he was really sick on the inside and felt like there was nothing that could have helped him-"

Barbara balls her hands into fists, the paper crinkling as it's crushed, "Then I guess my mom felt that way too?! She had to leave me as well because I wasn't a good enough pup for her or dad-" the girl nods her head adamantly when the alpha shakes his in refusal-"Yes, yes, that's what it was and you all were-and still are-lying about it! You could never be honest to me about a-anything!" She screams and doesn't bother wiping away her tears, sobbing loudly as she looks down at the note with blurry eyes and mutters. "I-I would have d-done what was needed to fix myself if you all would have just asked." 

Barbara's voice is hoarse as she tapers off, running under her uncle's arms as he tries to hug her and ignoring his shouts for her to come back as she runs out of the apartment door.

.

.

.

.

The beta gasps for air, her lungs burning and legs aching as she finally slows to a stop. Barbara doesn't even know how long she's been running for or how far she's ran, but the buildings no longer look familiar to her, maybe she's too distressed right now to fully pay attention to anything? Her attention, however, is immediately caught by a big looking building that towers over the others built next to it, her mind pushing her to go to the very top just to simply sit.

Yeah, just to sit.

Barbara sniffles and looks inside the window, noticing that there is still someone sitting at the front desk but choosing to step into the building anyway, smiling awkwardly as the receptionist looks up and eyes her suspiciously.

"I'm sorry, we're about to close, and there's no children allowed inside of the building."

The beta glances towards the elevator, wondering how she'll make it to the top floor and to the roof, "U-Um...it was starting to get really cold o-outside, and I lost my way as I was walking, so...I decided to come in here to get warm." She breathes on her hands to add to the helpless look she's going for, sighing into her hands softly in relief as the receptionist looks a bit more concerned now. "Are you okay? Do you...do you need anything to drink? I'm sure we still have hot cocoa in the break room, you can take a seat right over there and I'll bring it to you and then we can call someone to come get you."

Barbara nods her head in thanks and waits for the adult to leave, rushing over to the elevator and keeping an eye out for the receptionist as she waits for it to reach the main floor. The beta breathes a sigh of relief once she finally steps inside the elevator, pressing the button to the highest floor and stuffing her hands in her pockets while spacing out.

Barbara can hardly believe what she was told...I mean, she's been grieving her parents for a couple years now only to find out that they never died because of someone else's recklessness, but because of suicide. Honestly, she feels like it's all her fault...she really does, that's probably the reason why her dad started drinking was because she was too hard to handle–and what about her mom? Did she decide to die alongside her husband because she loved him more than their daughter? It's hard for Barbara not to think that, and a part of her is...jealous, about her dad, at the fact that he held her mother's heart so close to himself in a way that the beta couldn't, maybe her hands were too small at the time to properly hold it in her own?

Another part of the teen feels upset that they both decided to go on without her-they were being selfish when she thinks about it-I mean, Barbara would have gone anywhere with her mom and dad if she could, she remembers all the times that she would attempt to convince her parents to let her work with them because being around them was always so much fun that she never wanted to leave their sides.

But it seems they wanted to leave her's.

The soft 'ding' of the elevator snaps Barbara out of her thoughts, the beta sniffling and wiping away tears she didn't even know were falling as she steps out into the hallway, "I didn't think this through." She sighs softly while digging her palms into her eyes and looking down at her city below, the lights are beautiful from up top and so are Gotham's structures, the building she's in adds to that beauty as it's silent...it hides the chaos she knows is going on ground level, but up here? Up here she can imagine that everything is peaceful and just as pretty as the lights make her city seem.

The more she looks down at the sight below, the more her mind is thinking of jumping down. It's truly a gorgeous sight during the night and Barbara thinks that this would be a beautiful resting place...albeit she won't look so pretty after falling down so far, but isn't that horrifically poetic in a sense? The beauty of Gotham during the night from above and the wretchedness of its citizens down below? She'd be-quite literally-jumping into the fray and adding onto the ugliness she knows to be true, but as she's falling, she can close her eyes and at least remember the beauty for just a moment before she forgets.

Plus, she isn't worried about looking unrecognizable after her fall, she imagines that's how her parents looked after crashing: deformed and bent up in all kinds of different ways. She couldn't even get one last look at the two at the funeral, her dad apparently was going so fast that when they crashed it was so bad it changed the way they appeared, her uncle told her they were both found unbuckled at the crash scene.

Barbara touches the coolness of the window and wonders if her features will look just as distorted as her parents?

The beta already feels slightly off-kilter, it's been this way since her father and mother's passing. She can't think right, can't sleep right, can't interact with people normally like she used to because she feels so angry; she sometimes feels like she can't eat right, one second her appetite is here and the next it's gone, she can't smile like she used to before-and she can cry, but that doesn't even feel normal anymore despite how much she's been doing it.

Blue eyes look up at the sky, where Barbara can only hope her parents are, thinking that if this sight is what they see everyday...then she wants to join them up above too. 

Pushing away from the window, Barbara makes her decision to jump, her stomach fluttering at the decision as she looks for roof access–she knows that there has to be a stairwell up here that leads to it somewhere or some form of a utility room with a roof panel. It takes only a few minutes of walking down the hallway until the girl finds a stairwell that leads to the roof, her heart racing in excitement as she turns the handle only to be denied access...of course there's a key for the stupid thing, probably for maintenance or the people that actually work here to have access to–"Damn it!" Barbara punches the metal door and goes back to the window she was looking out of, her eyes burning from the tears pricking at them, she never gets what she wants.

All she asked for was her parents to stay with her forever and that was denied, she wanted the truth and all she got was a lie, she wants to be happy and all she ever gets is sadness; and now that she wants to die-what-life wants her to live?

Anger courses through the beta as she starts pounding on the glass, ignoring the pain in her fists as they bounce off the reinforced material, "Come on! C-Come on!" Her punches get more frantic and sloppy as the window denies her access, a loud cry escaping her as her knees give out and she crumbles to the floor in a shivering heap of despair, sniffling and squeaking pitifully in a way she would if her parents were still alive.

Barbara keeps squeaking and calling out for people who no longer exist, so imagine her surprise at the warmth that encompasses her as she cries, the slight scent of vanilla surprising her...that's not what either of her parents smelled like.

"M-Mom?" The teen looks up and feels her heart stop for just a moment when looking into white lenses, "Y-You're..."

Batman instinctively tucks the pup closer into him when seeing her puffy eyes and snotty nose, lifting up his cape to gently wipe up the sticky substance, "Batman. Jim told me you were missing, are you hurt anywhere?"

Barbara's scent sours slightly at hearing her uncle's name, "I'm–fine. Go tell him that I'm okay."

The young teen does her best not to squirm uncomfortably at the look Batman gives her, a soft sigh escaping the man as he wraps his cape around the girl's shoulders. "Are you sure? I think I saw someone who is in a lot of pain trying to escape it in anyway that she knew how."

Barbara flinches at the fact that Batman caught her trying to...to...you know? Her eyes watering again at the reminder of her failure, "I-I...couldn't-" she whispers pitifully and sniffles-"H-How did you find me?" She looks up at the man curiously, gasping in shock as there's a tap on the window at the exact same time the older says, "Because I'm Batman."

Superman smiles kindly and waves, his smile growing at Batman's displeased grumble, "I thought I told you to head home already? I have things under control here." The Kryptonian just replies with a shake to his head before disappearing for only a second before he's suddenly standing next to the vigilante. "I had to stay! I wasn't sure if she was going to manage breaking the window, and Robin has got it covered below, he's-" Batman suddenly turns to growl at the super, his eyes narrowing behind the mask, "You left him by himself?!"

Superman raises his hands into the air and steps away just the tiniest bit, "I-he's perfectly fine! I wouldn't have left him alone if I wasn't sure he'd be okay. And he insisted that I be with you instead."

Barbara makes a surprised noise at Batman's hands tightening slightly on her shoulders when Superman smiles at him, her eyes watching as the man's jaw clenches and unclenches–is he mad? She opens up her mouth to apologize for being such a burden, but she finds herself pausing at the slight, momentary, uptick of the man's heartbeat before it settles back to a normal pace. "Stop smiling, it's disgusting as well as unnecessary. And there's a lot of things you don't know about Gotham if you think leaving a pup alone in the open here is the right thing to do." Barbara sniffles and glances up at Superman to gauge his reaction, trying not to laugh at the kicked puppy look he has on his face, his dark eyes widening at the reprimand.

"But-"

Batman snuggles Barbara closer to him and growls once more at the Kryptonian, "You left my pup out in the open. Superman, I swear if you don't get your ass back to him-" he pauses at the taller disappearing suddenly, a displeased rumble escaping his throat-"I hate it when he does that."

Barbara looks up at the Bat curiously, it didn't seem like he hated anything Superman was doing...if anything, to her it looked like Batman was touched-maybe even flustered-by everything the alien was doing for him, except leaving Robin alone that is. Now that she's had time to relax and breathe, Barbara feels-I don't know-silly? Shameful? For trying to jump out a window. Especially being caught by two of the most well-known heroes when trying to break reinforced glass, she can't imagine how pathetic she must have loo-

The beta stiffens up in surprise when she's pulled closer into Batman's side. A part of her wants to struggles against it, kicking and crying and screaming about how she doesn't deserve comfort for being so troublesome to everyone...but then again, that cold and lonely side is begging her to just let it happen, that she's been through a lot emotionally and mentally, that maybe receiving some comfort isn't as bad as that other self-destructive side makes it seem.

"W-What are you doing?"

Batman looks down at the stunned pup, holding back a satisfied purr at the child quickly loosening up in his hold. "Hugging you...do you...not know what that is?"

Barbara shakes her head quickly when hearing the concern in the alpha's (that's what the news says anyway) tone, "Of course I know what hugs are-" she sighs at the warmth radiating from the taller, how can someone wearing protective armor be so comfortable?-"But...why are you hugging me? Don't you have people to go save?" Batman frowns at the words and hums thoughtfully while carefully tucking a stray hair behind the pup's ear, "Last time I checked you are a people too, pup. And I always have time for people." Barbara can feel her eyes watering yet again, but this time from the gentleness in Batman's voice, at the concern for a complete stranger—from the realization of everything if she's honest with herself—she feels greedy; selfish, when thinking about how quick she was to choose to leave her Uncle Jim behind in the same exact way her parents passed away. She shakes her head and whimpers sadly, crying harder at the concerned noise the vigilante makes when doing so, "I-I don't deserve any of t-this. I'm s-selfish a-and greedy and s-self-absorbed!"

Batman stays silent, giving Barbara the time to explain herself. 

"M-My parents died a c-couple years a-ago-" strong hands softly squeeze her shoulders in apology, and to let the pup know he's listening-"A car accident. A d-drunk driver crashing into my parents car is what the reports said...or that's what I thought at the time at least." Barbara inhales shakily and tries to press herself closer into Batman's chest, desperate to feel more of the warmth coming from him, "B-But they actually died by suicide. A-And I-" her voice cracks-"I just found out that truth today and it f-felt like too much after e-everything I've already been struggling with. A-And so I came here to just sit on the roof-that's what I told myself at least-but I started thinking that maybe I'm better off dead and that this would be a great place to die."

The young teen pulls away slightly so she can look up at Batman. "But I didn't think a-about my Uncle Jim...he has done everything for me ever since they died, a-and because I was too busy being angry at him, I was about to hurt him worse by dying just like my parents d-did."

Barbara bows her head and whispers, "I'm so sorry. I-I'm scared a-and I don't wanna die, p-please...help me?."

Batman whines slightly at the distress in the other's tone, hugging her tightly to his chest and rocking the now trembling pup as he shushes her gently, biting off his right glove so he can card his fingers through her hair. "You don't need to apologize for hurting, do you hear me? I'm sorry to hear about everything that happened...your Uncle Jim told me the truth about what he did and you'd be surprised at how sorry he is too-" he pulls away to gently tilt the pup's face up, purring comfortingly when seeing the puffy eyes and tear stained face-"I...my parents died too. Someone shot them in an alleyway right in front of my eyes."

Barbara's eyes widen, her mild scent escaping her in an attempts at comforting the other.

"I...I put my caretaker through a lot of hell the older I got because I felt strongly just as you did. And...it has taken me a long time to forgive myself for those things I said or did to him during my grieving process-but, he told me I was still young, and sometimes it can be harder for someone younger to sort through those feelings no matter how ugly they appear. Barbara, Jim doesn't hold your feelings against you, do you know that?" Batman softens at the girl's disbelieving look, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear as he whispers, "But...maybe you hold your own feelings against you."

Barbara gasps softly and bites her lip while nodding slowly, rushing forward and hugging onto Batman with a loud cry, squeezing on tighter when the man cradles her head gently in his right hand while his left holds her back firmly.

The noise the vigilante lets out in response to her puppy crying is surprising, because it's not the sound of an alpha comforting a pup, but a very omegan one. "Y-Your a-" Batman pulls away and smiles down at the girl, bringing a finger to his lips, "Omega. Not even your Uncle Jim knows, so I'd appreciate it if you could help me keep this secret?" Barbara's hands tighten on the omega's cape, her heart racing at the kind smile the man gives her and how he's trusting her with such sensitive information. "O-Of course!"

"And Barbara-" the girl makes a confused noise as her head is gently turned towards the window, cringing at her appearance before she looks at the Bat through the reflection-"Sometimes one of the people or things you live hardest for is right in front you the whole time. Everything is going to work out just fine and I'll make sure you get the help you need, if you really want it?"

Barbara looks at herself through the window, taking in the bloodshot eyes and red nose...she looks-in her eyes-absolutely disgusting, a hot mess if you will. But...she also looks so incredibly alive and real, and at least for right now, that's exciting and something that causes her heart to beat faster and her stomach to flutter excitedly about.

Maybe...maybe her life is now truly beginning? Barbara sniffles and gives a small-but sincere-wobbly smile, "I want it. I want to live."

Batman nods and stands up with the girl tucked into his side, his eyes drifting down  as he realizes Barbara's hands are hurt, "I'm glad. Now let's go get you back to Jim and get your hands clean, he's worried about you."

————°————

It was like that moment breathed a newfound determination in Barbara that she never felt or knew she had before. She recalls quickly becoming just a tad bit obsessed with finding Batman again to thank him for everything he's done for her and Jim on that day, but she never had enough courage to follow him around again until the age of sixteen when she found life to be a bit more brighter.

Anyway, now she's twenty something and a crime fighter. It's kind of crazy how the man she ended up looking up to is the same one she's fighting alongside now, and even funnier is the fact that the boy she met in the restaurant is now her closest friend and brother.

And being a crime fighter for a couple years now has done wonders for her, she's even learned to read people better than before, though not as well as one of Bruce's newest daughters; Cassandra. That girl is actually kind of scary with how well she seems to know everything before it happens, sometimes her and Richard still think Cass is a metahuman and just says she's not-but anyway. Barbara isn't the only girl now-which is a relief honestly-she has two new little sisters now (yes, two) because Bruce took in another feisty one named Stephanie, the blonde is definitely a spitfire, always ready to knock some heads together and prove her worth.

Both her and Cass are always quick to jump into action and prove their value...which necessarily isn't a bad thing, but Barbara knows what it's like to feel lost, so she knows exactly how people can behave when they feel confused or don't know their own worth and roles in life or a family.

Which brings the beta to how concerned she is about her sisters. The two have been thick as thieves ever since being introduced to each other: always cuddling up together, sharing each others things, whispering to one another (or in Cass's case; signing)-and did Barbara mention whispering to each other? The willingness to do the job is admirable, truly it is, but the beta often finds herself worrying at the ways the two girls go about it...they almost seem desperate to show they are deserving of having a place in the family, desperate enough to do almost anything to prove that fact.

Which is exactly why Barbara is so afraid for them.

They don't need to prove anything to the family-to Bruce mainly, especially since the older knows that's who they are going out of their way for. And she gets it, Barbara would be a liar if she said that she didn't, sometimes she still has moments of insufficiency and self doubt that rise within her and cause her to act out sometimes.

But...

If anything Bruce has showed her ever since taking her into the pack as one of his own, it's that there is absolutely nothing in this world that would stop him from loving her, from loving any of his pups really. And that's the second reason Barbara finds herself concerned over her sisters; the fact that neither Stephanie or Cass have realized that Bruce just loves them for who they are and not who they think they-or anyone else-thinks they should be.

Which is how Barbara finds herself following the two teens out of Gotham's borders and into Metropolis, her anxiousness mixing in with curiosity as to why the two are traveling all the way into Superman's territory, they aren't planning on taking the man down to prove their strength...are they?

"You should have notified mom immediately instead of doing this yourself." Barbara mutters to herself and quickly glances down at the touchscreen on her bike showing the trackers she hacked back into on the girls bikes, holding back a very audible groan as the two red dots finally stop near...an... abandoned Lex Corp research facility? Barbara taps on the screen to make sure it didn't glitch, why did Steph and Cass come all the way out here for this specific building? In all her research on this one facility, it's the...least dangerous of Lex's buildings (when it was operating that is), all his staff seemed to focus on is regular science research and lab testings, nothing out of the ordinary there. 

But who is she kidding? It's Lex-freaking-Luthor, there's most definitely something going on.

"You could have just asked to come along, y'know?" 

Barbara tenses for just a second before relaxing with a soft sigh, taking her helmet off to face an amused looking Stephanie, "I know...but it doesn't seem like either of us should be here in the first place-" her eyes drift over to where Cass stands, raising a brow at the two-"Speaking of, I'm guessing this is exactly what you two have been whispering to each other about the past few weeks now? Tell me girls, why are we here?"

Stephanie bristles at the woman's tone, her shoulders tensing as if prepared to fight, "You aren't planning on telling ma...are you?"

Before the older can reassure Stephanie that she could have already informed Bruce of what is transpiring right now (but didn't) is interrupted by Cass stepping forward with a hand on Stephanie's elbow to calm her, a soft sigh escaping the shorter girl. "She could have already told mama already, but she didn't Steph, I think she wants to know what's happening before thinking of saying anything-" she pauses her signing to move one hand in a 'gimme' gesture before continuing with a victorious smirk-"And I told you the plan would work! Barbara followed us just as planned. So I expect my money later."

Barbara keeps her eyes on the girl's hands, her face morphing to one of confusion and disbelief at the word 'plan' being used.

"Wait, wait, wait! You mean, this whole time, you both were being so obvious just so I would notice you both?" The beta looks back and forth between the teens and sighs softly at seeing the matching looks of humor they both wear, "What exactly is going on here and why are we at Lex's researching facility? That, might I remind you, is abandoned." Steph-at Cassandra's prodding-concedes to the poking of her side and explains what's happening, "We can all agree Lex Luthor is an extremely stupid man, right?" That's...not what Barbara expected, but she can work with that, "Uh—I guess so? It depends on the when, where and why I guess. Why's that matter?"

Stephanie crosses her arms, "It matters because of what you just said: 'it depends on the when, where and why.' We know he's super smart-"

Cass signs, "Except for when he's being super stupid."

"Yeah, except for when he's being stupid. But today is one of those days he's being really smart...so smart to the point where he's done something potentially reeeeeally stupid." Stephanie reaches into a bag she brought along and pulls out a red folder, "Do you know what this is-" she pauses at the troubled look on Barbara's face and nods-"Ooookay, seems like you know exactly what this is-what?"

The older rubs her eyes with her hands and groans, "You took one of mom's important folders? You know he doesn't like us touching his stuff, but especially his folders-"

Cass tries to hold back an amused smirk, "Especially Stephanie...last time she tried to color code them with style, remember?" The blonde huffs and rolls her eyes, pursing her lips in displeasure at the memory of being scruffed and scolded, "It's not my fault mom chooses boring colors to keep his papers in. I still think spray paint was a wonderful idea to color code them with." Barbara can't help but to smirk at the memory, "You're almost as bad as Richard...he keeps adding stickers and glitter to B's stuff-wait! It's not about those things right now you two. You know we aren't supposed to touch mom's things, but especially the color coded file folders-" she narrows her eyes disapprovingly at Stephanie whispering about how the colored folders was done because of her...which is true (because she wouldn't stop spray painting the cream colored material), but that isn't the point right now. "That isn't the point, Stephanie, you aren't supposed to have your hand on these-wait..."

Cass and Steph look at each other curiously before turning back to Barbara.

"How–did you even get your hands on this?! Bruce is always careful of his things and I'm pretty sure he has every document and copy of said document numbered and remembered."

The two puff up their chests and smile proudly, "We distracted mama and made copies of the file. Which isn't too hard to do considering how much he loves us, but it was hard getting everything back in place the way he had it." Cassandra signs and gestures to the red folder, "But the contents of said document are exactly why we needed you to follow us. We assumed you were the safest bet as there's some sister solidarity going on here between the three of us, we could have brought Timmy along...but he would have felt too guilty keeping a secret from mama and told on us, so, here you are."

Steph nods towards the folder, "You know that very urgent matter that ma and Superman have been slipping away for? Apparently it's because a little birdie in the villain community let it slip during a fight with Metropolises sunshine child that Lex Luthor has been working on a clone of the Kryptonian." Barbara's eyes widen, and despite her inner voice telling her to just call Bruce instead, she opens up the folder and looks over the papers, her eyes skimming them to see if anything hops out at her. "Wait, it says here that Lex has been working on this clone for at least more than at least ten years now..."

Steph nods, "Which means that he's had plenty of time at perfecting this. We know he's attempted cloning or even crossbreed projects before, but working with alien DNA is a completely different thing, so I wouldn't be surprised if it took him even longer than usual to figure things out."

Barbara rubs at her temple, realizing just exactly what her little sister meant at the beginning with her question about Lex Luthor, "He's being so incredibly smart right now. Wasn't this same exact building the one where he first used Kryptonite on Superman? One of B's files reports that Lex drew blood from him after taking a chance on his theory that Kryptonite was a weakness, a theory that paid off well as it turned out to be true, he lured Superman to this facility not just to test a theory out...but I think it was to get some of his DNA if he happened to be right."

Cass smiles at Barbara, "Seems we aren't the only one who reads the files, but yes, he lured him out here for those exact reasons. Luthor wouldn't have made such a bold move if he didn't think he would win or have a backup plan, pretty sure in my research one of the materials used in this building was lead, which Luthor knew Superman couldn't see through at that point. Pretty sure egghead had an escape plan if things went south."

Barbara's eyes widen at the implication, "You two think that he built escape routes throughout the building? It would make sense, it's not like Superman could see Luthor escaping or even if there are layers to the structure."

Stephanie nods in agreement, "It's also suspicious how not too long later they 'shut down' the building. We think it's been a cover this whole time and there's something going on underground that Superman doesn't know about. I mean, the man would still have been fairly new-I think-to this superhero business at the time, so after the fight and Luthor going so far as to demolish the building to the point of rubble he would have found no reason to be suspicious of anything...at least not enough to come back here and check on things. Plus, we know how forgetful Superman can get sometimes...he doesn't take into account certain things that we as humans would, so he probably paid no mind to the fact his DNA was left anywhere during the stabbing."

Barbara sighs, "He would have been too focused on the fact he was able to get stabbed in the first place."

Everyone remains silent for a few minutes to process everything before Cass steps forward with a hopeful look in her big brown eyes, "So can we count on you to help us? You-besides Timmy-are one of the most tech savvy out of everyone, we are pretty sure there must be cameras or some sort of electrical output somewhere for you to get a signal or something from. Please? Mama and Mr. Kent have been working hard to track this clone down, we could help a lot here and show him we can achieve more."

Barbara looks up, prepared to say no to offering them help...but the adorable brown and pretty pale green eyes that look desperately at her for help is-in all honesty-all too familiar to the beta, enough to give her pause.

"I...we should really call mom."

Stephanie and Cass look at each other before each taking a place at Barbara's side and hugging onto the woman, nuzzling into her neck as they stare imploringly up at her. "Pretty pleeeeease?"

Barbara feels her resolve crumbling under the pouty lips, soft pup-like squeaks and the big eyes the two girls give her, realizing that this is exactly how Bruce must feel whenever he looks at his children.

————°————

Usually days aren't this nice for Bruce (besides seeing his babies of course), usually there's always something or another to be concerned about, but surprisingly enough, the omega was able to...relax?...in some way today. If you call him trying not to die constantly from heart failure as relaxing, then yes, he's enjoying himself immensely.

Despite the cause for his impending heart failure being right in front of him.

Bruce feels his nose twitching not in the attempts of getting a whiff of Clark's scent nervously as he sits on Clark's slightly worn couch, why is he here in the man's apartment? Hell, why is he even here in Metropolis?

"Bruce, do you not find the snacks pleasing to your tastes?"

The omega snaps out of his increasingly disturbing thoughts of anger as to why he can't properly smell the alpha around his own den, blinking away the far away look in his eyes and paying attention to the alpha's now worried look, why does he look that way? He shouldn't. "The snacks? Oh, yes, thank you for the snacks Clark-" he takes a delicate bite of the pastry the other handed to him, surprised at how it's flavored in the exact way he desires his sweets to be-"this tastes delicious, really, where did you get these from? Maybe I can bring some back to my pups."

Clark feels his heart flutter at the words, knowing he's failing at hiding his pleased smile as Bruce squints at him as though he can physically see light radiating off him.

"I made them!" Oops! Too excited, "I mean...I made them myself. You don't seem like someone who would just eat any kind of food given to you, a-and I know how much you enjoy this pastry as I smelled it on your breath the last time I ran into you and I knew it must have been homemade as the last time you got this snack it was from a bakery and you didn't like it."

Clark feels like he was rushing his sentence, each word running into the other as his nervousness grew at him exposing himself. What if Bruce thinks he has horrible breath because of what he said?

Bruce stares at the alpha in bafflement, doing his best to avoid smelling his own breath to be sure it doesn't smell so strongly...when he wanted Clark to notice his smell, that isn't what he meant. "O-Oh? Does my breath usually smell so strongly? I apologize for...um...assaulting your senses like that, Clark. But, you were right, Alfred made these for me last time I ate them...I prefer a lot of homemade foods and snacks, I–guess I'm a little too picky in that way."

Is...that insecurity in Bruce's tone?

Clark feels his alpha grumbling in displeasure at the omega looking away for a split second, in Bruce speak, that means he's sorry–and he has no reason to be sorry.

'You smell amazing: your scent, your breath, your hair–your everything really. And I wouldn't mind scenting you everyday for the rest of our lives, because that's how good you smell.' Is what Clark wants to actually say...but he's an unmated alpha with an unmated omega—alone—in his apartment together, he can't say that to the other without seeming like a creep. "You don't smell strongly-" Clark swallows nervously as Bruce makes eye contact with him-"You smell really...sweet and soft in the best of ways, so no worries. I should apologize for startling you in that way...I just—it's easy to use my senses for certain things and...I just like making others happy, so I smelled the ingredients of what you ate last time and remembered so I could make something you'd enjoy."

The alpha gives a sweet smile to Bruce, "And you shouldn't worry for being 'too picky'. It's not your fault that you have standards for yourself, even if it's just with food. I, for one, don't think you could ever be too choosey."

'I would feed you whatever you wish for the rest of our days', is something Clark has to beat down with a metaphorical stick as he almost says it. However, the pink tinge to Bruce's cheeks cause the man's nostrils to flair with barely concealed excitement as the omega's scent slips through the patches on his neck the tiniest bit–and what a scent it is–it smells like a warm and slightly spicy dessert...aaaaand it immediately worries Clark because of how much it makes him want to bite the other.

"Thank you, Clark-" Bruce's hand unconsciously raises to play with the back of his hair as he takes another bite of Clark's handmade pastry just for him, his eyelashes fluttering as he holds eye contact with the alpha while biting down, unaware to the affect he's having on the other-"It...amazes me how considerate you can be towards others. It's kind of disgusting-"

'That's why I love you so much,' is not something Bruce can really say to Clark, especially not when the other could have someone so much...better.

The slightly defeated noise coming from across him causes Bruce to refocus on Clark, the omega panicking internally at the-in all honesty-crushed look the other wears, why does he look so-"You think I'm disgusting?"  The alpha and omega blink at each other awkwardly for a few tense minutes, Bruce processing what the other means and almost choking on his dessert as he rushes to explain, "No-" curse his inherent reactions of mild to severe disgust in the face of people being genuinely kind-"It's not you, Clark, it's me...really. I'm...I'm from Gotham."

Bruce trails off awkwardly, trying not to scream at the flimsy excuse, his inner omega practically howling at how any future attempts of romance is off the table. The cards are no longer where they lie because Bruce-in his infinite lack of proper emotional skills (at least towards adult humans-I mean, aliens)-flipped the table when peeking at the hand he was dealt, abruptly ending the game. Thankfully, Clark just laughs, the sound causing Bruce's ears to tingle and his belly to grow warm and the omega's lips to unwillingly turn up into a genuine smile. "Well...I don't think that I can argue with you there exactly, guess it's an instinctive reaction to kindness? Um...though I think you are very kind yourself despite everything."

Bruce feels like his heart is actively in the process of failing, pretty sure he's dying right now with the way he has to hold back the severe pounding of it, his body can't decide whether to continue pumping blood to his heart or his face.

Still, he feels like he should try explaining what he actually meant. "I meant disgusting in a good way, j-just-" dang it! Stop the stuttering-"so you know? It's like cute aggression but when I see anyone who's just...genuine, I want to call them disgusting because I have no other words for them." That was singlehandedly one of the dumbest answers Bruce feels he ever gave to someone, maybe he got it all wrong before? He's actually trying to kill himself with the embarrassing crap spouting from his own mouth.

Clark sits up a little straighter in his seat, "Oh? You...think I'm cute?"

Bruce scrunches his nose up, "No, children and babies are cute. Animals are cute. Even old people are cute-" his omega practically claws at his mind at the alpha's shoulders slumping slightly-"U-Uh, not saying that your face isn't-"

He feels his face growing even warmer at the intense look the alpha gives him suddenly.

"I mean it's not-not cute–I mean, you aren't cute! No, what I'm saying is that you look hot, sexy, drop dead gorgeous, like a god in the flesh, sex on legs han-" Bruce bites his tongue when Clark leans forward a little as if a spell has been cast on him to listen to whatever it is that the omega says, his eyes sparkling with something Bruce is too distracted to put a name to, "I-I think you look appropriate." He feels like screaming at the way Clark just stares at him...he doesn't know if he wants to burrow himself away in his nest forever or dive-bomb out of the window? But, his inner omega is practically preening at the attention the alpha is giving him.

Clark holds Bruce's gaze, his alpha sticking its metaphorical chest out at how pink the other looks...like a perfectly ripe strawberry, good enough to sink his teeth into.

Just one taste.

One taste wouldn't hurt, right? Sink his teeth gently into Bruce's cheek just to feel the flesh give under the pressure?

Yeah, just one. Little. Ta-

"Clark?" Bruce's soft voice pulls the alpha out of his trance, the Kryptonian cursing himself internally for almost letting his fangs grow longer...pretty sure they almost were dripping with the amount of saliva built up in his mouth.

The alpha blinks away his intrusive thoughts, embarrassed to realize he was starting to crawl on his very unstable coffee table (that Bruce has been trying to convince him to get rid of for awhile now), clearing his throat and acting like he's dusting something off of the surface. "T-There was something right there on the table that you definitely couldn't see because I have super vision and you don't."

Bruce furrows his brow at the statement, he hates being reminded that he doesn't have powers, "I know that you do. No need to rub it in, Clark."

The alpha winces at his poor choice of words, he was just rushing to get something out of his mouth to explain his creepy behavior. "That's not what I meant to say, B, you know I didn't." He watches as the omega moodily bites at the rest of his pastry, his voice softly rumbling in satisfaction when the other grows disappointed when his next bite is full of air and he notices the pastry is gone, "Would you like ano-"

"Yes. Now."

Clark wants to feel irritated at the interruption...they've been over Bruce's demanding attitude before, but the need to provide for his the omega overrides the need to tell the shorter to say 'please'. "Okay, okay. How many?"

Bruce hands the alpha his plate, "All of them?"

The taller laughs at the question in the other's tone, "You don't sound so sure about that. Plus, I thought you wanted to take some home to the pups?" Bruce relaxes back into his seat, purring softly in happiness at how the other remembered, "I was just testing you to see if you remembered me saying that. I do want to take some home to them, unless you were planning to eat the rest?"

Bruce can't see Clark's reaction to his purr as he's facing away from the kitchen, but the alpha is losing it, softly banging his head against his fridge at the happy little noise.

"No. I wasn't planning on eating any of this, it was all for you anyway."

All for him? That sounds satisfactory to Bruce's ears, he sighs softly and looks up at the ceiling to try and remember why he came down here in the first place, his memory is never this bad...but Clark has the special ability to make him feel stupid and clueless to everything.

'Beep' 'Beep'

Scratch that. One of his kids is calling him, he can't remain stupid or clueless.

Bruce tries not to jump to the worse case scenario as he clicks on the comm in his ear, "Batman–"

"Mom-ah!" Barbara gasps as she's thrown into a wall, "We aren't here to hurt you–Spoiler, get down! We need you to come–" her earpiece makes a static noise as a series of loud bangs are heard, the sound of Barbara screaming for Spoiler causing Bruce's heart to stop before she's heard grunting, maybe throwing something? "Barbara, sweetheart? What's going on?!" He stands up from Clark's couch, rushing over to the window in the attempts to climb out of it, key word: attempt, as a hand gently rests itself on the small of his back.

"Are you really about to jump out of a window? Let me fly you."

Bruce opens his mouth to argue, but the sound of Stephanie's strained voice in his ear makes him forgo it, "M-Ma...we need you and Superman down here–to the right, Barb! We kind of ran into a situation-ugh!"

By the time Bruce looks over at Clark, the man is dressed in Superman regalia, the omega tugging on the other's cape insistently as the alpha gets the idea and lifts the shorter into his arms. "We'll be right there! Clark, I have a suit hidden somewhere not too far from here-" at the Kryptonian's curious looks, Bruce sighs softly-"it was an abandoned building, Superman, it's perfect for a hiding spot." He clicks at his earpiece again, "Spoiler, what's the situation you're dealing with? Is it a code Arkm-23a?"

The two adults wait in a tense silence before Spoiler speaks up, her tone soft and guilt ridden, "Um...the situation isn't in Gotham, mama. Try: code 2813-Krypto-SP #56C." A quiet curse escapes Superman, which is how Bruce knows the situation is serious, and suddenly he's reminded as to why he came down to Clark's apartment in the first place, his voice a distressed growl as he finally responds to his daughter.

"You found Superman's clone?!"

————°————

Spoiler wipes at her bloody nose, her vision blurry as she tries to shake off the pain, the sound of her mom screaming in her ear doesn't help the concussion she's probably gotten from Clark's insane clone, "H-How many times do we have to tell you that we aren't here to hurt you, #56C? We just wanted to find you." The teen curses as she barely manages to stumble away from the other throwing a chunk of metal at her...it's a great thing Barbara turned off the security cameras and alarm systems, or else they'd have a lot more trouble with security trying to rush in.

The clone growls at her, "Where's Superman!?"

Spoiler tenses in caution at the experiment rushing towards her...to be honest, this plan isn't going as planned, they only expected to find a blob of something or an unfinished project, not a fully developed teenager with severe anger issues. They didn't even bring Kryptonite, which was actually a very dumb decision the blonde admits was probably her oversight, "He's coming! We promise, okay! Can you just calm down for one-" It seems as if everything is moving in slow motion as Spoiler watches Black Bat descend from the ceiling like a bat out of hell, her legs wrapping around the clones head as she uses the force of her body to drag the boy to the floor with her, the small hands moving in a series of strikes as she attempts to see if pressure points work. Stephanie realizes that the younger is testing for any weak points, someone has to do it she supposes? But the blonde alpha finds herself worrying as the clone easily grips her sister's wrists in his hands and easily extracts the girls hands off of his body, the boy grunting as he slams the Asian girl harshly back into the floor.

Black Bat winces as the taller rests his weight on her smaller body–he's surprisingly heavier than he looks–her hands twisting in a test of the grip he has on her while her lips pull down to a frown at not even budging. "How do you know Superman?!" 

The creaking of metal is heard before the roof caves in to reveal Superman and Batman, the alpha's nostrils flaring at the familiar scent in the air...it's definitely his alright, but there's also something not his about it, it's weird and causes the man to release his own scent in retaliation to the clones domineering one. "Because I'm a close friend. That's how they know me." The clone throws Black Bat into a wall, his eyes narrowing at Superman as he leaps up to the man, throwing a harsh jaw punch as the Kryptonian crashes through a couple walls and away from the rest of the group.

Batman frowns worriedly as he rushes to Black Bat's side, his hands quickly fluttering around the teen as he checks for any injuries, "What in the world were you girls even thinking?! Do you know how dangerous this was to come here alone?"

The teen frowns at how her mama is displeased, lifting her hands to quickly sign an explanation, "We just wanted to help you and Superman...we know how busy you've been and thought that we could do it together." The omega stands up with his daughter, attention shifting to Spoiler as the girl wobbles in place, a worried sound escaping him at the sight of his pup with a bloody nose, "You girls help me everyday, what do you mean? Spoiler, baby, can you hear me? See me properly? You can barely stand, puppy."

The blonde stumbles into her mom's arms, taking a deep breath in to avoid puking as the world spins, "F-Fine. S'my fault, ma...I forgot...the-the Kryptonite."

Batman frowns at the slight slur to the blondes words and her slow pace, his instincts flaring to check on her but also not to as this isn't a safe place to do so, especially not when he can hear a fight going on a couple rooms over. "This isn't any one person's fault, sweetie, where's Oracle at?" A tug on his cape causes Batman to turn towards Black Bat, following where the girl's pointing to and whining at seeing the woman holding her arm to her chest, lip busted as she types something into the computers.

Batman frowns worriedly at the sight of his eldest girl and leads his youngest two over to her, his hands reach out to the woman as he turns her around, "Are you okay?"

The younger takes a moment to realize who's touching her before she nods slowly, her gaze lowering to the floor in shame at what she allowed to happen. "I'm fine, mom...I'm so sorry, I k-knew I should have called you. I was stupid not to-" she's interrupted by Batman tugging her and her sisters in for a careful hug, his voice a soothing rumble as he comforts his pups, "But you did contact me. You and your sisters ended up doing the right thing, baby, but we need to get you three out of here...I'm pretty sure Spoiler has a concussion and it's not safe." He stops as the eldest girl doesn't let him lead them back up top, the beta shaking her head with a frown on her face.

"W-Wait! You need to see something. The only reason why the clone is so angry is because he's been brainwashed to hate Superman...apparently they would torture experiment #56C and then make him think it was Superman that hurt him so badly. Lex made sure that hate would be the only thing in his clones mind when thinking of the Kryptonian."

Batman pauses, growling protectively when a loud noise is heard behind them from Superman and his clone fighting, holding Spoiler and Black Bat to his side while he keeps his eyes on Oracle.

The ginger types in something to the computer, clicking on a file she knows that Batman has never seen before, her eyes trained on the omega's reaction as he quickly scans through the notes on #56C–"I know, right?" The beta whispers in disbelief as the omega gasps softly in shock, holding her little sisters tightly in her arms as Batman hands them off to her and runs through the hole in the wall and towards the fight.

Oracle turns to look at the digitally highlighted words that caught her mom's attention, unable to stop her soft chuckle as she cuddles into her sisters. "I think we'll be leaving here with a new brother, girls."

XXX

Batman grapples down a hole in the floor, his heart racing as he gets closer to Superman...and their son, his nose stinging at the strong scent of two angry alphas in a heated battle. "Superman!" The alpha immediately turns to look at the Bat, leaving an opening for the younger half-Kryptonian to place a mean roundhouse kick to the older man's face, the teens attention diverting to the man dressed in black.

"Who are you? Are you with Superman?"

Batman feels horrible for the way a part of him trembles excitedly at the teen asking that question, even when he knows the boy doesn't mean 'being with Superman' in a romantic context.

The omega clears his throat softly and stands tall, nose lifted high as he nods, "Yes, I'm Batman. We work toge-hk!" Hands suddenly squeeze at Batman's throat, the vigilante remaining calm as he looks at his pup, not one that's been adopted (though of course that doesn't make them any less his kids because of that fact), but it's...shocking to see something that is–technically–biologically his and Clark's.

.

..

...

....

Oh. My. Gosh!

Him and Superman have a kid together?!

Batman takes a close look at his pup's face closely despite the hands tightening on his neck, his gaze softening under his lenses when seeing the heterochromatic eyes; the left Clark's deep, midnight sky blue and the right his own icy blue color. The omega tries opening his mouth to speak, a wheeze escaping him instead of words, "W—hat's...yo–ur...n–name?"

The clone narrows his eyes at the man, "#56C."

Batman gasps for air, his hands finally reaching up to grab at the boy's wrists now that his airways are officially constricted, "N–o...h'w...a—bout..."

#56C hisses in pain as a large hand wraps around his wrist tight enough to cause him to drop Batman, grunting as he's thrown harshly into the wall and pinned to it by his neck, his breath hitching at the memories of Superman doing that same exact thing to him everyday before Luthor saves him. "Get your hands off of him." The boy's eyes flutter as he claws at the older man's arm to try and break free, trying to push down the fear at being faced with his biggest enemy, Luthor has warned him against feeling fear...it does him no good in battle.

Batman coughs loudly, hand on his quickly bruising throat as he pushes himself up and off the ground, feeling defensive at the sight of Superman manhandling their child.

"Superman, you're scaring him." His nose twitches at the sour scent of fear mingling in with the older alpha's anger. Batman grumbles in displeasure as the stubborn alpha doesn't listen to him, placing a hand on the other's arm and tugging at it, "Let him go–" he growls low; motherly, when Superman still doesn't listen–"Now, Superman!" The protective tone seems to register in the Kryptonian's mind as he suddenly releases the pup, stepping away as he snaps back to reality, though his brows are furrowed in irritation. "Why are you being so protective of him? He was hurting you, B." The omega continues to hold onto the alpha's arm until his hand actually leaves the boy's throat, "He doesn't know any better-" his tone is gentle-"He's been brainwashed into thinking you're the enemy as well as anyone attached to you. Superman, he's just a boy."

Superman opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water, defensive as his mind register's Batman's protective tone as being in favor of another alpha (even when that alpha is partly himself). "I was just trying to protect you and the girls, is that so bad? How else am I supposed to respond to a clone Lex Luthor made of me–of me, Br-Batman! This is my worst nightmare come to life. I've never wanted to give into the anger and hurt the people I've sworn to protect...especially those I love and care for most."

Batman feels himself softening at the sight of Superman's apprehension, "I know you're scared...but, did you not promise to protect the innocent? The boy didn't ask to be created by Lex Luthor of all people, and as I said before, he was brainwashed into thinking you as the enemy; the cause to all his pain and suffering, not the savior from it. Who's more innocent than a victim of a very horrible circumstance?" Batman turns his attention to the frozen boy on the floor, frowning at how intimidated the child looks curled up into the wall...he must be having some sort of flashback with the way he's staring off into space. "Can you hear me, pup? "

Superman looks down at the pup curiously, unable to shake the bitter feeling growing in him at the gentleness Batman is giving the other. However, the omega's voice speaking to him interrupts those feelings as he gives the other all his attention, "Do you feel anything when looking at him, Superman?"

Batman looks up at the alpha from where he's crouching next to the clone, his eyes carefully watching the man's face morph into a look of befuddlement, his deep blue eyes looking down at the boy curiously, "I...don't know? Maybe. There's something there that I can smell isn't just my scent...it itches my brain and I don't know why. Maybe it's Luthor's scent?"

The omega grumbles to himself watching the moment what Superman just said sinks into his own brain, the man's eyes widening dangerously big as the panic sets in.

"Stop thinking for one second you idiot-" Batman growls at the stupid alpha not understanding who exactly the boy is to him-"You are the first parent and the second one...the second one is me, that's what you're smelling. I bet that's the cause to your brain itch." Superman freezes in place as his brain tries to process the new information...#56C isn't his and Lex's child, but his and Bruce's?

That's...definitely not what he was thinking-and Oh. My. Gosh!

Him and Bruce have a kid together!?

Superman shakes his head, guilt overtaking the shock as he realizes the person he was  pummeling wasn't just him, but that it's his and Bruce's child. His alpha howling in despair at how he's already failed as a father.

Batman extends his hands towards the alpha at seeing him pull away, "Wait, Super-" a burst of air brushes the exposed parts of the vigilantes face-"man..." He sighs dejectedly at the empty space where Superman once stood, not properly able to ponder on the feeling for too long as his son makes a distressed noise. "I was scared...I'm sorry that I was scared, I know it doesn't help me. I let him escape."

Batman chirps softly towards his son, hands slowly raising to pull off his mask, immediately releasing his sweet-spicy scent to the teen. "You don't need to apologize, pup, everyone gets scared."

The boy blinks the haze out of his eyes somewhat at the scent of the omega, a low rumble escaping him as he's suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling of comfort, instinctively leaning in close to the man as his nose settles against the warm neck. Why does Batman look so familiar to him? Why, why-"Mother..." #56C whispers as it clicks in his brain who the man before him is, he remembers Lex showing him pictures of Bruce Wayne and telling him that the billionaire is his mom...though nothing else was said besides that, the bald alpha always just grumbled about how stupid Bruce is and how he most likely gets people to do his work for him.

Bruce chirps in response to the name, cuddling the boy close and gently massaging his nape to calm him down, ears twitching as he's called top level by his daughters. "We'll be right up!" He tilts his head up while shouting, holding tightly onto the boy as he helps him stand and grapples up the hole in the ceiling.

The boy tenses at seeing the three girls he fought earlier still in the building, stepping in front of his mom protectively as he growls warningly at them. "Why are you still here? Aren't you with Superman?" A gentle hand resting itself on #56C's shoulder causes his stance to relax slightly, Bruce's smooth voice purring reassuringly in his ear, "It's okay, pup, they know Superman but are with me. These are your new sisters–something we can talk about later–right now, I want to ask you if there's another name I can call you?"

The teen lowers his defensive stance at the information, and the fact that the three girls all look at him warmly...why aren't they mad at him?

"No. I have no name."

Bruce frowns displeased at the fact Luthor didn't even name his kid, a thoughtful hum escaping him as he rests a hand on the boy's head. "How about...Conner? I think that name suits you, and there is always the choice for you to change it later if you don't like it."

#56C–Conner, shakes his head insistently, standing a little taller at finally receiving a proper title, "I want the name, mother. I–thanks."

The dark haired teen bristles at the giggles escaping his...sisters (he has to get used to saying that), the blonde one nodding softly with a smirk on her lips, her voice slurred slightly when speaking. "H–e's...cute. I think...I think h'll fit...in." Bruce frowns at the state the alpha is in and gently grabs her from Oracle, "We need to get you home. Oracle, did you-"

The woman nods her head, "Already called Leslie. She's on standby at the Cave." She doesn't bother mentioning that the rest of the family know that he's coming home with another kid. Bruce finds himself smiling proudly at all his kids before turning to look at Conner carefully, "Baby...would you come home with me? This place is no longer safe-" he doesn't think it ever was-"and I would like to check on everyone in a place I know won't be harmful."

Conner blinks in shock at the question...he didn't know mother wanted to take him with him...Lex never allowed trailing or following of any kind, just his obedience. 

The teen looks around the place he did grow up in thoughtfully, he has no feelings one way or another about it, it's more like a training ground than what he imagines a home (whatever that is) to be. Conner looks back at Bruce with a curious look in his eyes, "Okay. I want to know what home is supposed to be." The omega smiles happily at hearing the boy is willing to follow him, stamping down the fury towards Lex Luthor and the man's lack of proper child care, tugging his mask back on with one hand and adjusting his hold on Spoiler as he heads out the building, leaving Conner with his two sisters.

Black Bat nudges the boy with her elbow, keeping her posture loose and open despite the alpha tensing defensively at the playful gesture, a wide smile on her face and hands moving in a flurry as Conner gives her his attention. "Welcome to the family-" she opens her mouth to speak, her voice quiet with disuse-"B–roth...er." Conner suddenly feels shy at hearing the word come from his sister's mouth, nodding to the shorter while thinking that maybe his new home life won't be so bad, tilting his head curiously as the blonde sibling peeks over mother's shoulder with an impish smile to her lips. "Wait until you meet your new brothers. They're a blast."

Conner freezes at the thought of other boys sharing his mother's space, his brain only thinking of one way to respond to the older girl, "Brothers? No one said anything about brothers."

The protective tone must be obvious in his voice as the girls laugh at him, the boy not being able to focus on feeling offended by it as he's overtaken by a warm feeling at making his new family laugh.

(Notes from AO3—Some things I want to explain too right quick is, 1: Please excuse the crappy explanation as to where Conner was grown. 2: Please excuse the horribly written fight scenes 😭😭😭 and 3: Conner's experiment number is based off of the fact Krypton's sector number is 2813, while Krypto just is supposed to be referring to the fact/reminder Lex is dealing with a half-Kryptonian experiment; SP just means specimen and #56C is just the number of times Lex has tried his attempts at making a clone and C...I have nothing for that, I just thought it sounded nice 😂.

But we can say #56 is in section C of Lex's experiments, to which this Conner is the only working one.

Flimsy excuses I bet for my reasoning to everything, but please accept it (it's Christmas 😭😂). I truly hope the length of this chapter will satisfy all who have been waiting on me? You all's comments truly motivate me, and don't be afraid to tell me if you hate this chapter or it's length, I seriously won't be mad but I will appreciate all your comments 🙏🏼☺️.

Also, I hope you guys enjoyed the choice I made for the girls finding Conner? I thought about it and the thought actually wasn't forgotten so I went with it, especially as I thought it'd be nice for them to find him kind of as a little introductory to our beloved clone.

I really need to stop blabbing, but I hope everyone has enjoyed this chapter? Please remember to stay safe, happy, healthy and of course lovely as always. 💛💛💛💛—End of notes from AO3.

Part 1: The Interview, Part 2: The Gala, Part 3: The Search.

[sp1d3rzz]

WARNING !! : age-gap (23 and 51), fingering, pet names, cursing, smut ofc lolz, cum eating, jiraiya being a warning himself. lemme know if i missed anything!

Summary : jiraiya has never had any issues when it comes to women (that he likes to think of), until he meets you. is it possible to get someone as stubborn as you into bed with him?

A/N : eeeee!!! i'm so happy to finally write for my love jiraiya! we want a part 2?? (๑>◡<๑)

womanizer!jiraiya who stops at a random town during his long and exhausting journey to finally take a break. he deserves a good nights rest, savory food, and of course finding a pretty prize to take back to his hotel room and please.

womanizer!jiraiya who the very next day, comes across you admiring the flowers at a small nextdoor floral shop. even from afar he can make out the features of your face that make you an absolutely breathtaking sight.

womanizer!jiraiya who decides to be brave and approach you, expecting nothing less than what he usually receives. and when he finally gets close enough to smell your perfume (which only makes him want you more once he gets whiff), he's stuttering back on his words from how nervous you seem to make him with just your looks alone. "what brings a lovely lady like you around here?"

womanizer!jiraiya who is beyond shocked when you only shoot him a mean glare and walk away without so much as a second glance. and don't get him wrong, he hates to see you go, but damn does he love to watch you walk away.

womanizer!jiraiya who finds that women normally come to him like bees drawn to honey. he's one of the legendary sannin after all, a heroic man like him usually suits well with the ladies. so how come a gorgeous woman such as yourself seem to find no attraction to him?

womanizer!jiraiya who wonders if you just like the chasing game. that's fine— he doesn't mind playing the part if it's what gets you going.

womanizer!jiraiya who unintentionally happens to appear wherever shop you look around at next, offering to pay for anything you planned on getting all in agreement you gave him one chance. and if not that, at the very least a conversation.

womanizer!jiraiya who soon begins to realize that perhaps you just don't like him. he'd done nothing but show you kindness, consideration, and respect. so why did you insist on giving him zero effort in return for his?

womanizer!jiraiya who finally accepts his fate and heads back to his hotel room, dumped— but still looking forward to one last night of rest before he's back on the road by morning.

womanizer!jiraiya who on his walk there hears small commotion coming from a nearby alleyway that catches his attention. it isn't until he peaks around the corner to find you surrounded by a couple of punks does he interfere.

womanizer!jiraiya who interrupts their harassment with a couple of basic jutsu that sends low life's like them running in less than 5 minutes. although the pale look on your face is one he'd never thought he'd see, considering how unbothered you seemed to be earlier.

womanizer!jiraiya who checks on you with a warm smile, despite you turning him down harshly the whole day. "don't even worry about it, sweetheart!" he promises, "you sure you're alright?"

womanizer!jiraiya who watches as you bow out of thanks with your hands tucked tightly at your sides, face flushed with embarrassment as you assure him you were okay. and disgustingly enough, he can't help but wonder how you'd look bent over a desk with your legs spread wide, begging for him to fill you.

womanizer!jiraiya who is just about to turn around and leave before you're pulling him back by his wrist. "let me repay you, mister– uh.." you stumble for his name, biting your bottom lip as if internally cursing yourself for how stupid you may appear by now.

womanizer!jiraiya who only smirks at your struggle, finding this new side of you rather intriguing. "jiraiya, kiddo. you can call me jiraiya." and when you do, he curses himself for how good it sounds coming from those pretty lips of yours.

womanizer!jiraiya who can hardly contain his excitement when you ask him to take you back to wherever he's staying so you can uphold your offer. no matter how cool he attempts to play it off as, his entire body gets hot at the imagination of what might happen.

womanizer!jiraiya who you shortly end up making out with in his room like theres no tomorrow. tongues exploring each others mouth sloppily, though neither of you complain when the feeling is euphoric.

womanizer!jiraiya who has his lips and body glued to yours as he lays you onto the bed, mattress dipping from the sudden weight. when he separates his mouth from yours and pulls back, the sight of you perfectly spread out for him has his cock aching.

womanizer!jiraiya who doesn't waste any time pulling your panties down and plunging a thick finger into your soaked cunt. he watches as you throw your head back in pleasure, lips parting open to release a sharp gasp. "so you really are into me, huh? surely you're wet enough to take a little more."

womanizer!jiraiya who stands by his word, adding in another finger to stretch your walls out. you moan his name aloud when he pumps his digits mercilessly. he could see with your already fucked-out face, that you'd reach your orgasm sooner than expected.

womanizer!jiraiya who takes your breathless whimpers as a sign and leans down to kiss you roughly, fingers never halting.

womanizer!jiraiya who has you caged beneath him on top of the bed, large chest rising and falling in sync with yours. the sound of your pussy squelching with each push is enough to send him over the rails as well.

womanizer!jiraiya who curls his fingers just in time, eyes opening to watch the beautiful scrunched-up face you make reaching your high. "there we go— shit, baby." he grunts, slowing down his pace. "good fucking girl."

womanizer!jiraiya who pulls his fingers out with your cum dripping off, quickly pushing them into his mouth to taste you. he closes his eyes and moans at how surprisingly sweet you are, not wasting a single drop as he cleans off your juices.

womanizer!jiraiya who think it's only fair if you see how delicious you are for yourself. pulling his fingers out of his mouth with a small "pop!", he grins before looking at you. "you wanna taste of both of us? c'mon, open up for me, pretty."

womanizer!jiraiya who presses his wet fingers to the plush of your lips, slowly pushing through as your warm mouth welcomes him happily. he analyzes how your glossy eyes look at him dazed, accepting him to fully control your body.

womanizer!jiraiya who groans and clenches his jaw when your tongue roams his two digits, watching with fascination as you lick up all that remains.

womanizer!jiraiya who feels his cock twitch with need in his pants, begging for any sort of friction. he grabs your hand and guides it onto his bulge, letting you fully grasp what he has in store for you. "you know what you do to me, kid?" his gaze meets with yours, and he smirks. "i'm dying to fuck you right now."

[amethystarachnid]

A PLACE TO STAY - part II

⤷ STEVE G. ROGERS

ᯓ★ Pairing: Steve G. Rogers x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: fluff, some angst, more fluff at the end

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 6.6k

ᯓ★ Part I

ᯓ★ Summary: one Olivia is officially your daughter it's time to show her what having a family means

ᯓ★ TW(s): mentions of abandonment and abandonment issues, reader discovers she's pregnant

ᯓ★ I'm so sorry I know you asked just fluff but I swear the fic wrote itself, and I will sure as hell write a second part where Steve and Y/n adopt Olivia because I'm crying.

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The days since you and Steve had decided to adopt Olivia have been filled with a blend of excitement, nerves, and a deep sense of certainty. It feels like the right thing to do. Every time you picture Olivia’s face—her bright smile, the way she clings to you for comfort, the way her tiny hands grasp your fingers with unspoken trust—your heart swells with love. The idea of offering her a stable, loving home is overwhelming, but you both know it’s what she deserves.

Today, after all the conversations and emotions that have led up to this moment, you and Steve are about to head back to the orphanage. It feels different this time. You’re not just there to spend time with Olivia. This visit is about making things official, about taking the first steps toward a new future—for all of you.

The crisp air of Brooklyn greets you as you and Steve step out of your apartment, bundled up against the cold but still feeling the warmth of each other’s presence. Every step toward the orphanage feels like it matters. Today, you’re not just visiting a child. You’re talking to the headmistress about adopting Olivia.

When you arrive at the orphanage, the familiar sight of the building brings both comfort and nerves. It’s strange to think that not too long ago, this place was just where you met Olivia for the first time. Now, it’s a place where your future with her is about to take root.

The moment you step through the doors, the warmth of the building surrounds you. Children’s laughter and chatter echo in the hallway, but your attention is on the headmistress’s office. You know that Olivia is probably somewhere in the building, playing or perhaps getting ready for her afternoon snack, but today isn’t just about her. It’s about speaking to the headmistress and moving forward with the plans to make Olivia officially part of your family.

You exchange a glance with Steve as you approach the office. His face is soft, yet resolute, the same warmth you’ve come to know in his every expression.

“She’s going to be so happy,” Steve says softly, his voice filled with the same tenderness that’s always there when he talks about Olivia.

“I hope so,” you reply, squeezing his hand. “I know we’ve talked about it, but… asking her feels like a big moment.”

“I think she already knows, Y/n,” Steve responds, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “She already looks at us like we’re family.”

With that, the two of you push open the office door and enter, greeted by the headmistress, who stands up as soon as she sees you. Her kind face radiates warmth, her smile deep and genuine. She’s always been welcoming, and today, that feeling is even more palpable as she takes in your presence.

“Y/n, Steve,” she says, her voice full of kindness, “it’s so good to see you both. I’m glad you could make it today.”

“Thank you for meeting with us,” you say, your voice quiet but filled with gratitude. “We wanted to talk about something important regarding Olivia.”

The headmistress nods knowingly, a slight glint of understanding in her eyes. “I can only imagine what this is about,” she says gently, sitting back down at her desk. “You’ve both been wonderful with her. It’s clear she’s formed a strong bond with you.”

You glance at Steve, and he squeezes your hand as if to reassure you that this moment, this conversation, is one you’ve both been ready for.

“We’ve been thinking a lot about Olivia’s future,” Steve begins. “And we want to make sure that if we’re moving forward with adoption, we’re doing it with her best interests in mind.”

The headmistress nods, her gaze soft but wise. “Of course. We always want what’s best for the children here. Olivia is a wonderful little girl, and I’ve seen her grow so much since you two started visiting her. You’ve brought a light into her life that wasn’t there before. She deserves all the love she’s getting.”

You smile, a mixture of relief and emotion filling your chest at her words. “We want to give her that love permanently,” you say, voice steady but your heart beating faster as you realize the magnitude of what you’re saying. “We want to ask her if she wants us to be her parents.”

The headmistress looks at both of you, a warmth in her gaze that only deepens. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. Olivia has always been a shy, cautious little girl, but over the past few weeks, I’ve seen how much she’s come out of her shell around both of you. She’s more confident, more trusting. She’ll understand the question more than you might think.”

Steve nods, though there’s a trace of doubt in his eyes. “We just… want to make sure she’s really ready for this. Before we go through any legal processes, we want to be sure that it’s something she wants, too.”

“You’re being very thoughtful,” the headmistress says. “I’m sure she’ll be thrilled. But it’s important that she feels like she’s part of the decision. The transition won’t be easy, but I can see how much she’s come to rely on you both. She looks up to you so much.”

There’s a slight pause, and then the headmistress leans back in her chair, her eyes twinkling with understanding. “I can’t think of a better family for her, if I’m being honest. And I know she’ll be happy with you. But asking her is the right way to go.”

The words feel like a confirmation, as if this is the final piece falling into place. It gives you the confidence you need to move forward.

You take a deep breath, and then glance at Steve, who nods again. You both stand together, ready to ask Olivia the question that will change all of your lives.

“We’re going to ask her now,” you say, your voice steady. “Thank you for your support.”

The headmistress smiles warmly. “Take your time. I’m sure it’ll go wonderfully.”

You and Steve exit the office, your hearts racing in unison as you head toward the room where the children are gathered. As you approach, you spot Olivia near the corner, sitting with a few other kids and playing with a set of building blocks. Her little hands are busy, but the moment she sees you, her face lights up.

“Y/n! Steve!” she calls, pushing herself up from the floor and rushing over to you both. The others around her giggle, some calling her name playfully, but it’s clear Olivia only has eyes for you.

You kneel down as she reaches you, and she practically throws herself into your arms. The weight of her small body in your arms feels natural now, like she belongs there.

“Hi, sweetie,” you greet her, brushing a few strands of hair from her face. “How’s your day been?”

“Good!” Olivia exclaims, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I make tower!” She holds up a small block, showing off the tiny structure she’s built. “Look!”

“That’s amazing,” Steve says with a smile, bending down to admire the little creation. He’s always so gentle with her, always so patient. You can see the love he has for her written clearly on his face.

But today is different. Today, you’re here to ask her something that will change everything.

“Olivia,” you say softly, your voice filled with warmth and care, “we need to talk to you about something important.”

She tilts her head, her brow furrowing slightly as she looks between you and Steve, her small hands still clutching the block in front of her.

“Do you remember when we talked about going home with us? About being a family?” you ask gently, making sure she’s following along.

Olivia’s eyes widen, and she nods enthusiastically. “Home!” she exclaims, her small hands clasping together. “Go home with you!”

You smile at her eagerness, your heart swelling. “We’ve been thinking a lot about that,” you continue, “and we wanted to ask you something. We want to know if you’d like us to be your mommy and daddy. If you want us to be your family. Forever.”

Her eyes search yours, blinking a few times as she processes the words. It’s quiet for a moment, and you wonder if she truly understands the weight of the question. But then, after a beat of silence, she lets out a little gasp.

“Yes!” she says, a huge grin spreading across her face. “Yes, yes, yes!”

You can hardly believe it. The joy in her voice is undeniable, and her little arms reach up toward you as if to prove it. You pull her into your arms, laughing with tears in your eyes.

“Are you sure?” Steve asks gently, his voice thick with emotion. “You really want us to be your parents?”

Olivia nods so enthusiastically it almost makes her dizzy. “Yes!” she says again, her tiny voice filled with joy. “Mommy, Daddy. Yes!”

You and Steve exchange a look of pure joy and disbelief. It’s as though everything has fallen into place—this little girl, who had been so cautious at first, now completely trusts you both to be her parents.

“Then it’s settled,” you say, your voice breaking slightly with emotion. “We’re going to be a family.”

Steve smiles, his eyes glistening with tears of his own as he hugs Olivia tightly, pulling you into the embrace. The three of you hold each other, the weight of what you’ve just agreed on sinking in. This is the beginning of something beautiful.

And in that moment, you know that Olivia has found her home. And you’ve found the family you were always meant to have.

The days after Olivia’s joyous acceptance of the adoption felt surreal. Everything was changing, but it was a change that you had longed for. It was a change that filled you with a sense of purpose and a warmth that made every moment feel even more meaningful than the last.

As you and Steve sat down to discuss the legal steps of adoption, you knew that this wasn’t going to be an easy or quick process. The legalities of adopting a child, especially from a system as large and complicated as the one Olivia had come from, would take time. A lot of time. It would require patience, paperwork, and plenty of legal representation. And while you were confident that everything would work out in the end, there was one thing that remained a little daunting: the financial side of it all.

But neither you nor Steve gave much thought to the cost. You both knew that money would come and go, but this—Olivia—was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. This was your future. The legalities, the bureaucracy, the long wait—none of that mattered when you had the love and commitment that you and Steve shared.

“We’re going to do this,” Steve said one evening as you sat at the kitchen table, papers strewn across it. “No matter how long it takes. No matter how much it costs. Olivia deserves this.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath. The stack of forms was daunting, but it didn’t faze you. “We’re ready,” you replied, your voice steady. “We’ll get through it together.”

It wasn’t easy, and it certainly wasn’t fast. There were meetings with lawyers, phone calls with social workers, and stacks of paperwork that seemed to multiply by the day. It was overwhelming at times, but every step felt like it was bringing you closer to Olivia. Every time you signed a form or spoke with someone about the process, you felt more certain that this was the right thing to do.

In the midst of the whirlwind of legal meetings and paperwork, there was something else that kept you both busy—transforming your apartment to prepare for Olivia’s arrival. You’d always loved your space, but now that the thought of being a family was a reality, it felt more important than ever to make sure everything was perfect for her. Your apartment in Brooklyn had been cozy and inviting, but there was one room that remained a little underused—the spare room. It had always been a place for storage or an extra guest room, but now, it was about to become something far more important.

This room would be Olivia’s.

“Alright,” Steve said one Saturday morning as you stood in the doorway of the spare room, surveying the space. “We need to make it perfect for her. What do you think?”

You looked around at the room, which was still filled with old furniture and boxes that hadn’t been unpacked from when you first moved in. It felt like it had so much potential—like it was waiting to be something special. And now, with Olivia’s future in mind, it felt like the perfect canvas.

“I think it needs to be… pink,” you said, your voice full of certainty. “It’s her favorite color.”

Steve’s lips curled into a smile as he looked at you. “Pink, huh? I’m not sure I’m ready for a pink overload, but if it’s what she wants…”

“It’s not just what she wants,” you replied, your tone soft and affectionate. “It’s what she deserves. She deserves a room that’s all hers, a place that feels like home. A place where she can feel safe, loved, and special.”

Steve’s smile softened, and he nodded. “Alright. Pink it is. But we’ll need some other colors to balance it out. Maybe some white and cream? Light wood accents?”

You nodded, already mentally planning the color scheme. “Yes, exactly. Light and airy, but still warm and cozy. We can put a little white dresser with pink accents, and maybe a cream-colored rug. And for the walls—maybe a soft pastel pink with some fun, subtle wallpaper that has little hearts or stars?”

“That sounds perfect,” Steve agreed, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “I love the idea of making it feel like her own little world.”

You both spent the next few weeks going to stores, picking out paint samples, furniture, and little decorations. It was one of the most enjoyable experiences you’d had together. Every decision felt meaningful—the color of the walls, the design of the bedspread, the little stuffed animals that would sit on the shelves. Each little detail seemed to add up to something bigger than you could have ever imagined. This was no longer just a room. It was Olivia’s room, and you were making it a place where she would feel nothing but love.

One Saturday, you and Steve got to work. You started by painting the walls a soft, pastel pink, the color already feeling like it belonged. You laughed as Steve struggled to find the right angle to reach the top of the walls, his tall frame a bit too much for the small space. You stood on a ladder, rolling paint on the lower parts of the wall, exchanging playful comments as you both worked together to create a room that would feel like home for Olivia.

“You know,” Steve said between strokes of the roller, “I didn’t think I’d ever get this excited about painting a room. But this… this feels different. This feels important.”

You smiled, looking over at him. “It is different. This is her space, Steve. She’s going to have a place to call her own, a place where she’s safe and loved. And that’s everything.”

As the paint dried, you and Steve began to assemble the furniture—an adorable white bedframe with a matching dresser, soft pastel-colored bedding with little floral patterns. You hung up shelves, arranging stuffed animals and toys that you’d bought for Olivia over the past few weeks. There was a small rocking chair near the window, perfect for reading bedtime stories, and a pink area rug in the middle of the room that felt so soft underfoot.

Steve was putting together the final pieces when you stood in the doorway, admiring the room. It felt perfect—so inviting and full of love, a space where Olivia would flourish.

“We’ve really done it,” you said softly, your voice filled with awe.

Steve walked over to you, his hand resting gently on your back. He gazed at the room with you, his eyes soft. “She’s going to love it.”

“She already does,” you replied, your heart swelling. “We’re giving her everything she needs. She’s going to have a real home.”

Later that evening, after Olivia had returned from the orphanage, the two of you brought her to the room, her little hands grasping yours as you led her inside. Her eyes widened in shock and wonder as she stepped into the transformed space.

“Wow,” she whispered, taking in the pink walls, the soft bedding, the shelves filled with toys. She ran her hands over the bedspread, a smile spreading across her face. “Mine?”

“It’s all yours,” you said gently, kneeling down to her level. “This is your room, Olivia. You can play here, sleep here, and just be yourself.”

Her face lit up with joy, her small hands reaching out to touch everything in the room. “Pink! I love pink!” she exclaimed, her voice full of excitement.

Steve crouched down beside her, smiling warmly. “I’m glad you love it, sweetheart. We made it just for you.”

Olivia beamed at both of you, her little arms reaching up to wrap around your neck as she hugged you tightly. “I love it. Thank you, Mommy. Thank you, Daddy.”

You felt a lump form in your throat, and your heart swelled with an emotion you couldn’t describe. This was real. This was happening. You were building a life with Olivia—a family. And every moment, every decision, every laugh, every hug made it feel like the most beautiful thing in the world.

As Olivia giggled and bounced on her new bed, you and Steve exchanged a look. There was so much left to do—so much more to give her—but in that moment, you knew that this was the beginning of everything. This room, this life, this love. It was all for her.

And together, you and Steve were ready to give her the family she had always deserved.

The months since Olivia had become an official part of your life had been a whirlwind. What started as visits to the orphanage, cautious steps toward adoption, and days of transforming a room into a bright, pink sanctuary for her, had led to this moment. The paperwork was finally done, the court hearings had been completed, and after months of waiting and hoping, Olivia was now your daughter—legally, forever.

The day you got the final confirmation that the adoption had been approved was a blur of emotions. You and Steve sat together in your apartment, holding each other as you stared at the email, the news still sinking in. A few months ago, you couldn’t have imagined that this day would come so soon. The future that had once seemed uncertain now felt like a reality—a family forged in love, patience, and care.

“Olivia is our daughter,” Steve whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he held the phone up to show you the confirmation. “She’s ours.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you squeezed his hand. “She’s really ours, Steve. After everything, it’s real.”

Now, it was time to bring her home—truly home. No more visits. No more goodbyes. Olivia, the little girl who had captured your heart with her smile and cautious trust, was about to become a permanent part of your family.

It was a warm Saturday afternoon when you and Steve drove to the orphanage to pick up Olivia. The sun was shining, the city bustling around you, but none of that mattered. Your heart was focused on the little girl waiting for you. Olivia had already been told by the headmistress that today was the day, and when you walked into the orphanage to find her, she was already bouncing with excitement.

Her eyes lit up when she saw you both standing in the doorway. She didn’t hesitate for a moment, her little legs propelling her forward as she ran into your arms.

“Mommy! Daddy!” she squealed, wrapping her arms around you both in a tight embrace. The feeling of her small body pressing against you was something you never got used to—it was the feeling of home, the feeling of being exactly where you were meant to be.

“Hi, sweetheart,” you said, hugging her close, feeling the joy bubble up inside you. “Are you ready to come home with us?”

Olivia nodded enthusiastically, her eyes sparkling. “Home! Forever?”

You looked over at Steve, your heart full. “Yes, sweetheart. Forever.”

As you made your way out of the orphanage and into the car, the world outside felt different. There was a sense of finality, but also excitement. You could almost feel the air shift, as if everything had aligned just right for the three of you. This was the moment you had been waiting for—the day when Olivia would finally get to experience what it was like to have a real home, a safe space with two parents who loved her beyond measure.

The ride to your apartment felt like it took forever. Olivia chattered excitedly in the backseat, her tiny voice full of enthusiasm as she looked out the window at the passing scenery. “Is it big? My room? My bed? My toys?” she asked, her curiosity bubbling over.

“Your room is waiting for you,” Steve answered, glancing at her through the rearview mirror. “It’s just as you left it—pink and perfect, just the way you like it.”

You smiled at her, your heart swelling. “And we’ve got lots of toys and books for you to enjoy. We can play together, every day.”

By the time you arrived at the apartment, Olivia’s excitement had reached its peak. As soon as you parked the car, she was already unbuckling her seatbelt, eager to get out. You both helped her out of the car, holding her hands as you walked into the building and up the stairs to your apartment.

When you opened the door, Olivia stood frozen in the doorway for a moment, her eyes scanning the familiar space. It was no longer just a place she had visited—this was her home now, every corner filled with love and warmth. She walked inside slowly, her little steps careful, as if she were waiting for something to change.

“Do you want to see your room?” you asked gently, crouching down to her level, making sure to give her the space she needed.

Her eyes widened, and she nodded quickly. “Yes!”

You took her hand and led her down the hallway toward the room that had been waiting for her all this time. The door creaked open, and Olivia gasped, her tiny face lighting up as she took in the sight of her room—her very own room. The walls were painted a soft pink, the bed covered with a fluffy duvet, and the shelves lined with toys, stuffed animals, and books. The soft cream rug beneath her feet added to the warmth of the room, and it felt like a true sanctuary.

Olivia’s small hands touched the bedspread, the pink fabric soft under her fingers. “My bed… it’s so soft,” she whispered, sitting down gently, her eyes wide with awe. She ran her hands over the sheets, a sense of wonder filling her voice. “This is mine?”

“It’s all yours,” Steve said softly, his voice full of pride. “And it’s where you’ll sleep every night, sweetie.”

Olivia beamed, her little face glowing with happiness. “I love it,” she said, her voice quiet, as if taking in the gravity of the moment.

You sat next to her on the bed, wrapping your arms around her. “We love you, Olivia. This is your home now, and we’ll always take care of you.”

Over the next few days, Olivia slowly settled into the rhythms of her new life. At first, everything was new and a little overwhelming for her. She had never had two parents who looked after her constantly, never had a place where she could leave her things out without worry, and never had the security of knowing that no one was going to take it all away.

There were moments when she seemed uncertain, moments when she clung to you a little tighter than usual, but as time passed, she began to relax into the comfort of her new home. She knew she was safe here. She knew that Steve and you would always be there for her.

You and Steve took turns comforting her when she woke up in the middle of the night, crying softly for reasons she couldn’t always express. It wasn’t always easy, but you both understood that this was part of the process. Olivia was learning to trust that she would never be abandoned again.

“I’m here, sweetie,” you whispered one night as Olivia curled into your arms, tears staining her little cheeks. “I’m right here. You’re not alone.”

Olivia’s tiny hands clutched your shirt, her sobs quieting as she relaxed into your embrace. “Mommy… stay with me.”

“I’ll always stay with you, Olivia. We’ll always be together.”

And slowly, the nights became easier. Olivia began to sleep through the night more and more often, her dreams peaceful as she adjusted to the stability of her new life. During the day, she was full of energy—laughing, playing, and exploring her new home. She was becoming more and more comfortable with the idea of having two parents, and it filled your heart with joy to see her growing so quickly.

Steve was always there, helping to create routines that made Olivia feel secure. Breakfast together in the mornings, with the sunlight streaming through the windows as Olivia ate her pancakes and giggled. Afternoons spent playing games in the living room or reading books together, Steve sitting on the couch with Olivia in his lap as she pointed at pictures in the storybooks, asking him to read each word. Evenings spent cooking dinner together, with Olivia sitting at the kitchen counter, her small hands stirring the bowl of batter as you and Steve worked side by side.

Sometimes, when Olivia wasn’t looking, you’d catch Steve glancing over at you with a smile that said everything. The joy in his eyes as he watched his little girl grow more confident, more secure in her place within your family. It was a look you shared—one that said this was everything. This was what you had been waiting for, together.

Olivia had begun to call Steve “Daddy” without hesitation. It had been a slow process, but now, when she ran into the living room with a drawing in her hand, her eyes shining with excitement, she’d shout, “Daddy, look what I made!”

And when she ran into your arms at the end of the day, she’d whisper, “Mommy, I love you.”

There were still moments of adjustment, of course. Olivia sometimes had trouble articulating her feelings, and there were moments when she felt confused or afraid, but those moments were fewer now. With each passing day, she was learning to trust the love you and Steve had for her, learning to see you both as the safe haven she had always longed for.

One afternoon, as you sat on the couch with Olivia nestled beside you, her head resting on your shoulder, you thought back to the beginning. The first time you had met her at the orphanage, the way she had clung to you so tightly, unsure of the love you were offering. And now, months later, she was here—fully your daughter, fully a part of your family.

It had taken time. There had been struggles, doubts, and moments of uncertainty. But none of it had mattered. Because now, Olivia had a family who would always love her, who would always be there for her.

And you, Steve, and Olivia were finally together, forever.

Every day with Olivia brought something new—moments of discovery, laughter, and, occasionally, confusion. She was growing more comfortable in her new life, but there were still times when the weight of all the changes was visible on her small face. You and Steve worked tirelessly to make sure she felt loved and safe, prioritizing her happiness above everything else.

One of those days came during a trip to the mall, an outing you had planned as a fun adventure for the three of you. Olivia was still enamored with the idea of the mall after her first visit, but this time, you promised to let her pick out something special for herself. As you walked hand in hand through the bustling corridors, Olivia’s wide eyes darted from one brightly lit store window to the next.

“Mommy, what’s that?” she asked, pointing to a mannequin dressed in a shimmering pink dress.

“It’s a dress, sweetie,” you explained with a smile. “Do you like it?”

She nodded thoughtfully, her tiny face serious as she considered the possibilities. “Can I try it on?”

“You sure can,” Steve said, squeezing her little hand gently. “Let’s go see if they have it in your size.”

Olivia’s excitement bubbled over as you led her into the store. A kind salesperson helped you find the dress in her size, and soon, Olivia was standing in front of a mirror, twirling as the pink fabric shimmered under the lights. Her giggles echoed through the dressing room, and your heart swelled as you watched her revel in the simple joy of trying something new.

“You look beautiful, sweetheart,” Steve said, kneeling to her level as she continued to twirl. “Like a princess.”

Olivia stopped spinning and looked at Steve with wide eyes. “A princess? Like in the movies?”

“Exactly like that,” he replied, grinning. “But even better, because you’re real.”

Her laughter filled the air as she hugged Steve tightly. “Thank you, Daddy.”

Moments like these made the transition easier for Olivia. She was discovering a world she’d never known before, filled with kindness and possibility. But not everything was so straightforward. One evening, while you were all enjoying dinner together, Steve’s phone rang with a tone Olivia had come to recognize—the one that meant he was being called to work.

“No,” she said suddenly, her fork dropping onto her plate. “No, Daddy, don’t go!”

Steve’s brow furrowed as he crouched beside her chair, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Sweetheart, I have to. It’s my job to help people, remember?”

“But what if you don’t come back?” she asked, her voice trembling. Tears welled in her eyes as she clung to him.

Your heart ached at the sight of her distress, and you knelt beside her, wrapping an arm around her small shoulders. “Daddy always comes back, Livvy. He always will. You know how much he loves you, right?”

Olivia sniffled and nodded, but the worry didn’t leave her face. Steve pulled her into his arms, holding her close. “I’ll be back before you know it,” he whispered. “And I’ll call you every chance I get. Promise.”

Eventually, Olivia let him go, though her eyes stayed glued to the door long after he’d left. That night, you let her sleep in your bed, her small body curled against yours as you stroked her hair and reassured her that everything would be okay.

Despite these challenges, Olivia continued to flourish. Her days were filled with new experiences, like her first trip to the park, where she discovered the thrill of swinging high into the sky, and her first attempt at baking cookies with you, which ended in flour-covered laughter and some surprisingly delicious treats. She was constantly learning and growing, her curious mind eager to absorb everything her new world had to offer.

But what she seemed to love most of all was simply spending time with you and Steve. Whether it was movie nights snuggled on the couch, reading bedtime stories together, or lazy Sunday mornings filled with pancakes and cuddles, Olivia thrived on the love and attention you both gave her.

One particularly chilly evening, after a long day of playing in the park, the three of you were bundled up on the couch, wrapped in blankets as a movie played softly in the background. Olivia was nestled between you and Steve, her head resting on your shoulder as her tiny fingers played with the fabric of your sweater.

“I love this,” she murmured sleepily, her voice barely audible over the movie. “I love being with you.”

Your heart melted at her words, and you kissed the top of her head, holding her a little tighter. “We love being with you too, Livvy.”

Steve reached over to brush a stray curl from her face, his eyes filled with warmth. “You’re the best part of our lives, kiddo.”

Olivia beamed up at him, her face radiant with happiness. Moments like this were what made everything worth it—the late nights, the tears, the challenges. She was your daughter, and there was nothing more fulfilling than seeing her feel safe and loved.

As time went on, Olivia continued to settle into her new life. She grew more confident and independent, but she never stopped seeking the comfort of your arms or Steve’s reassuring presence. She learned to navigate the complexities of her world, from the excitement of trying new things to the confusion of understanding Steve’s dual role as her dad and Captain America.

And though there were still moments of uncertainty, one thing was clear: Olivia had found her place in your family, and she knew, without a doubt, that she was loved.

For her, that was enough. And for you and Steve, it was everything.

The week flew by in a blur of cuddles, playtime, and quiet moments that made life feel impossibly full. Then came the invitation: a family dinner that would bring both your and Steve’s families together, all eager to meet the newest addition to the Rogers household. You were thrilled at the thought of introducing Olivia to her grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins, but as the day approached, Olivia grew quiet and withdrawn.

On the drive to your parents' house, Olivia sat in her car seat, clutching her pink bear—a beloved souvenir from her first mall trip. She was uncharacteristically quiet, her eyes fixed on the scenery outside.

“You okay, Livvy?” you asked, turning slightly in your seat.

Her little shoulders lifted in a hesitant shrug. “What if they don’t like me?” she asked in a small voice, barely audible over the hum of the car.

Steve met your worried gaze in the rearview mirror. “Oh, sweetheart,” he said gently, glancing back at her. “Why would you think that?”

“’Cause I’m not really yours,” she mumbled, her words tugging at your heartstrings.

You immediately turned to face her fully. “Olivia Rogers, listen to me,” you said softly but firmly. “You are ours in every way that matters. And our families are going to love you because you’re you. You’re smart, funny, sweet, and the most incredible little girl. They’ve been so excited to meet you.”

“Really?” she asked, her voice tinged with hope.

“Really,” Steve said, smiling warmly. “They already love you, Livvy. Just wait and see.”

The reassurance seemed to calm her nerves a little, but she still clung to her bear as the car pulled into the driveway of your parents’ house. The porch light was on, casting a warm glow over the scene, and the sounds of laughter and chatter floated through the open windows.

As soon as you stepped out of the car, the door opened, and your mother appeared, a wide smile spreading across her face as she waved. “They’re here!” she called over her shoulder.

Olivia hesitated, her small hand gripping yours tightly as you walked up the steps. Steve carried her overnight bag, his other hand resting reassuringly on her back.

“Hi, sweetie!” your mother greeted warmly, kneeling to Olivia’s height. “You must be Olivia. I’ve heard so much about you!”

Olivia glanced at you, her eyes uncertain. You gave her a gentle nod, encouraging her. “It’s okay, Livvy,” you whispered.

“Hi,” Olivia said shyly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Your mother beamed, her joy palpable. “Come on in, everyone’s so excited to meet you!”

Inside, the house was a bustle of activity. Steve’s mom was setting the table with your dad, and your siblings were chatting with Steve’s sister. The moment Olivia stepped into the living room, she froze. Piled in the corner, almost spilling into the room, was a mountain of brightly wrapped gifts, each adorned with a bow or ribbon.

“That’s for me?” Olivia asked, her voice a mix of awe and disbelief.

“Of course, they’re for you!” Steve’s mom chimed in, coming over to greet her. “We couldn’t wait to spoil you!”

Olivia’s grip on your hand tightened. “But… why?”

“Because we already love you,” your mom said, her voice filled with emotion. “And we want you to feel at home here.”

Slowly, Olivia’s nerves began to melt away as family members took turns introducing themselves. She remained quiet at first, answering questions in single words and holding tightly to her bear. But as the evening wore on, the warmth of her new family worked its magic.

The turning point came when your dad crouched down beside her and asked, “Olivia, do you like games?”

Her eyes lit up for the first time since arriving. “Games? I love games!”

“Well,” your dad said conspiratorially, “I happen to be the best checkers player in this whole house. Think you can beat me?”

A small giggle escaped her lips, and she nodded enthusiastically. “I can try!”

From that moment on, Olivia blossomed. She played checkers with your dad, who “accidentally” let her win every game, and she insisted on showing Steve’s mom her pink bear. Your mom pulled out a photo album and sat with Olivia on the couch, showing her baby pictures of you and Steve, much to Olivia’s delight.

“Daddy was a baby too?” Olivia asked, her tone incredulous.

Steve chuckled, ruffling her hair. “Yep, even me.”

As the night continued, Olivia grew bolder, her laughter filling the room as she bounced between relatives, sharing stories and soaking up the love and attention. The mountain of gifts was slowly unwrapped, revealing toys, clothes, and even a pink tricycle, which earned an ear-piercing squeal of delight.

By the time dessert was served, Olivia was perched on Steve’s mom’s lap, chatting away like they’d known each other forever. She didn’t seem to mind that her grandparents couldn’t run and play the way she was used to; instead, she found joy in their hugs, their stories, and the simple act of being included in the family.

As you watched her interact with everyone, your heart swelled with pride. This was her family now, and she was already carving out her place in it.

Later that night, as the guests began to leave and Olivia’s energy started to wane, she curled up on the couch beside you, her head resting on your shoulder. “Mommy?” she murmured sleepily.

“Yes, sweetie?”

“They really like me,” she said, her voice filled with wonder.

You wrapped an arm around her, holding her close. “Of course they do, Livvy. They love you.”

“And I love them too,” she said, her words slurring as she drifted off to sleep.

Steve scooped her up gently, carrying her to the guest room where she’d be spending the night. As he tucked her in, he kissed her forehead, his voice soft as he whispered, “Goodnight, kiddo. Sweet dreams.”

As you stood in the doorway, watching him with Olivia, you felt a wave of gratitude wash over you. This was your family.

[rathockey]

once again contemplating buying a second desk and making my own L-shaped desk

[whateveriwant]

Actually I'm not done talking about Mr. Simon Fucks-Himself-Stupid Riley just yet :(

I'm picturing a scenario where you, a civilian, are visiting your boyfriend at his base. Maybe you're there to deliver something, like a file he forgot at home or the lunch he said he didn't need. Either way, whatever your cover story for being there is, the end result is the same: you, on your back, knees up by your ears, sprawled across Simon's desk as he fucks you like his life depends on it.

Being a Lieutenant grants him the luxury of having a private office where he can engage in such extracurriculars, but that doesn't mean it's without some major risks – namely, prying ears that might be lurking in the hallway outside.

But being discreet shouldn't be an issue, should it? I mean, a man known infamously as “Ghost” should have no problem staying quiet, right?

Wrong.

Turns out, not only does that tight hole of yours reduce your boyfriend to a dumb, drooling mess, it makes him a dumb, drooling mess who can't keep his fucking mouth shut.

So while you have the wherewithal to clamp a hand over your lips to try muffling your lewd noises, Simon is out here moaning and groaning unabashedly like something sent forward in time from the Paleolithic. You could try asking him to cover his mouth, but it seems an impossible task; his hands are a little preoccupied with making sure he doesn't fuck you right over the edge of his desk.

While you don't want to stop, you also don't want to get caught, so you settle for urging him to keep it down. It's after a third softly gasped ‘N-Need to be qu-quiet, Si’ that your warning finally worms its way into his brain, and he acts in a way to appease you, just… not how you expect.

Swiftly, Simon removes his hold of your waist and brings one of his arms forward. He grabs for the center of his t-shirt, tugs the material up, and quickly stuffs the fabric into his mouth.

It only takes a split second for the action to happen, but immediately, you see how effective it is. The moment that standard, army-issued tee is captured between Simon's teeth, there's a drastic reduction of noise in the room.

Now, he can fuck into you with reckless abandon, and he snaps his hips forward with enough force to make your whole body ripple. Even as you pulse and constrict around him (sometimes inadvertently, sometimes not), the sounds that climb their way up Simon's throat are heavily dampened by his cotton gag.

It's as Simon begins the ascent to his peak that the cloth in his mouth really comes into play. As he pumps into you, he starts grunting lowly, gutturally, exhaling through his nostrils in quick, harsh bursts. It's a deep sound, animalistic in nature, like a bull huffing before it digs its heels into the dirt and charges.

His thrusts turn sloppier and sloppier the closer he nears his high, his hips propelled forward only by some basic hindbrain instinct. His lashes start to flutter, his eyes roll towards the back of their sockets, and when he cums, he throws his head back in a full-blown snarl.

Simon's a bit shaky on his feet after he climaxes in you, but he manages to pull out before he stumbles backwards, plopping down heavily into his chair. As you start cleaning yourself up, you see how he makes no attempt to move. He just sits there, completely brainless, pants around his ankles and t-shirt still tucked between his teeth. You have to walk over to him and purposefully tug on the shirt to get him to release it, and once it's freed, you see the damage that's been done.

In the center of Simon's shirt rests a big, blotchy wet spot, like he's tried to do his own slobbery take on the classic Rorschach test. The fabric's been wrinkled to all hell and there's a few imprints left behind from where his teeth had bitten down, and if you were to inspect the hem closely, you'd see where he popped a stitch or two in his ecstasy.

The sight of his mangled shirt has you tutting in disapproval. He can't walk out of his office looking like this, and he certainly can't forgo wearing a shirt altogether. What would the people around base say if they saw their normally put together Lieutenant looking so unkempt? You don't think he'd ever hear the end of it, nor would you for that matter.

In the meantime, as you wait for Simon's brains to un-liquify themselves, maybe you can scrounge up something else for him to wear. There's got to be something lying around here to help make him presentable once again. It's too bad as part of your cover you didn't think to bring an extra set of clothes to change into.

You'll have to remember for next time.

[gothgoblinbabe]

She Wolf

A/N: I said I was gonna get this done and it took me way too long and has an absurd word count but I am incapable of holding in word vomit! Inspired by She Wolf by Shakira cause idc its GOOD and it got me thinking' so here it is. Also you don't have to listen to the song as you read but I think It's fun!

Summary: You've got a crush on your best friend and he's a bit of a dick. He regrets it and tries to apologize but you're already trying to push yourself to move on any way you can, even if it's in some shady club you'd never been to before.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, swearing, Logan's kind of an asshole for a minute, Possessive/jealous!Logan, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), friends to lovers cause that's my fave, fem reader, mutant reader, unnamed creepy guy (?) aaaand Logan absolutely has a pain kink. I think that's it but if there's any I missed please let me know!

Word Count: 7K (im so sorry but I'm not though)

divider credit here

“Are you ever gonna tell him?”

You looked up from your desk towards Ororo’s voice, sighing and taking your glasses off your nose.

“God, I don’t know, ‘ro. I don’t think I should. It’s just going to end with me being humiliated and him never wanting to even be in the same room as me again.”

You’d had a crush on Logan Howlett since the day you first walked through the doors of the mansion six months ago. You’d probably be considered best friends by now with how much time you’d spend together, doing jack shit around the mansion on your days off. Just about everyone could tell he had a soft spot for you and that you had one for him. Logan was a classic ‘tough guy’, constantly trying to hide his kind nature with a hard exterior, but it took only a couple weeks for you to crack that barrier. You weren’t exactly a seemingly ‘soft’ type either.

You’d spent the majority of your life before you joined the X-men hoping from couch to couch and hitching rides with strangers, not really having a destination or a place to call home. You’d been dropped off at a church when you were fourteen, around the time you started to turn every full moon. Your parents couldn’t live with having to chain their mutant daughter in their basement once a month, and so they dropped you where they thought you’d find some ‘help’. You’d been passed from foster home to foster home till you were eighteen, each one passing you up the moment they realized you were not like them. It was always a slip of the mask, something setting you off to make you so enraged your eyes gleam yellow and your sharp canines make an unfortunate appearance. You took off the second you could and being on the road came with its fair share of creeps; men with terrible intentions looking for opportunities. You’d never wanted to hurt anyone - truly - but when cornered by a creep, it was hard to think anyone would miss them. A couple of local newspapers caught on, debating where the wolf that tore men to shreds had gone. You weren’t an animal. You just had teeth like one.

Knowing you couldn’t lurk in town much longer, you’d hitchhiked your way to a camp occupied with people like you; lost with no place to call home. It was there that you’d met a couple of mutants who told you about Charles Xavier and the place that seemed completely unreal until you set your eyes on it. That felt like a lifetime ago by now. 

“I think you're underestimating how he feels about you,” Ororo said, bringing you back to reality. She was sat on the edge of your bed, flipping through one of your magazines as you worked at your computer to try and make a lesson plan for the coming week. 

“I think you’re overestimating how he feels about me,” you let out a short laugh, shaking your head.

Just as she was about to retort, you both heard someone shout your names from the hallway. You looked at each other curiously and left the room, hearing shouting again. 

“Are you guys gonna play Monopoly with us or what?”

You both giggled and made your way downstairs towards Scott’s voice. Him, Jean, Marie, Bobby and Logan were all sat in the living room, the game already set up on the coffee table. Bobby and Marie were picking out their game pieces, assigning everyone else to their own piece.

“Okay, Logan, you’re gonna be the dog,” Marie smiled, dropping the little metal piece into the palm of his hand. 

He was definitely not as amused, “why do I have to be a damn dog?”

Ignoring him, she handed another piece out to Jean, “you’re the thimble.”

She then handed the boat to Scott, the top hat to you, and the iron to Ororo. You all began the game after Scott painstakingly over-explained the rules and how to play. 

It was a good bit into the game that you all became distracted with conversation, eventually leaving the board game untouched. The topic of compatibility came up somehow, the conversation focused on the joy of Bobby and Marie. 

“I think anyone would be lucky to have what you guys have,” Ororo smiled, shifting her gaze between the two of them.

“And what we have, obviously,” Scott joked, hanging his arm around Jean.

“Gross,” Logan chimed in, taking a sip of the beer he’d hidden in the back of the fridge.

“I think someone is jealous,” Ororo said in a singsong voice, poking his arm.

“Of having someone hang on me all the time? No, thanks,” he scoffed.

As stupid as it was, it made you a little sad to hear he had no interest in even entertaining the idea. It wasn’t a surprise, but still a disappointment nonetheless.

Ororo brought up your name and your eyes went huge, silently begging her to keep her mouth shut.

“You don’t seem to mind her hanging on you all the time. I think you’d be cute together,” she said, smiling mischievously at you. Scott and Jean agreed and you had never wanted to smash your head into a coffee table as much as you did in that moment.

“Nah, definitely not my type of girl.”

It was just seven words, out quick without a second thought, and yet it felt like you’d been punched in the gut. You couldn’t take your eyes off the monopoly board on the table, avoiding everyone’s gaze. 

Definitely not my type of girl. 

“I think I should head to bed, it’s getting late,” you mumbled, keeping your head down to hide your blushed face as you got up from the couch and practically ran out of the room and up the stairs. 

“What the hell was that?” Scott scolded Logan the moment you were out of sight.

“That was so mean,” Ororo chimes in, backhanding him on the arm.

“I didn’t mean to be,” Logan said nervously , shrugging his shoulders, “…do you think she’s mad at me?”

“Probably more hurt than mad,” Jean said honestly. 

“Shit,” he sighed, putting his beer down to rub his face with his hands, “what do I say?”

“Not that,” Marie replied, “why did you even say that anyway? You could’ve just said no.”

“I think you like her and you’re being mean so that she wont like you back because you’re afraid,” Ororo said after a moment of silence. 

Logan sat quiet for a moment, his hands still over his face.

“Am I that easy to read?” His voice was muffled through his hands.

The rest of them couldn’t help exchanging knowing smiles.

“So you finally admit it,huh? You’ve got a crush,” Scott teased.

Logan moved his hands from his eyes to glare daggers at him, “you shut your fucking mouth or I’ll shove that monopoly board where the sun doesn’t shine.”

“I think that’s a yes,” Jean whispered to her boyfriend.

“Talk to her when you see her tomorrow. We’re not going to let you hurt her feelings just because you can’t accept your own,” Ororo advised, lightly patting him on the shoulder.

“Do you think she’s even gonna talk to me?”

“Only one way to find out.”

───────♡──────────────♡───────

Logan tried to catch up with you the next day, always seeing you as you were leaving a room he was entering or passing by and even then, you ignored his calls of your name.

It was a little after dinner now and because it was a weekend, a couple of kids were up playing the PlayStation in the living room. Bobby and Marie sat with them, taking turns with the controllers. 

Logan entered the room after about three laps around the mansion, mentioning your name to the both of them.

“Have you guys seen her? I’ve been trying to talk to her all day, she keeps running from me.”

“Can’t really blame her,” Bobby muttered, his eyes never leaving the TV screen as he button smashed. 

“She’s in her room,” Marie answered before Logan could come up with a retort, “she went up before dinner, said she wasn’t hungry.”

He groaned, running a hand through his hair, “she’s skipping dinner now too, great.”

“Go talk to her!” She insisted, shooing him away with a wave of her hand.

He made his way to the stairs and up to your bedroom, knocking lightly on your door. Hearing nothing, he knocked again, a little harder. Still, nothing. 

“You can’t avoid me forever, you know. I wanna talk about yesterday, I was a dick.”

Silence. Now he was a little worried. He tentatively grabbed the doorknob and turned, cracking it open a bit.

Your bed was made, your desk was neatly organized and you were nowhere to be seen. He noticed your purse was gone from the usual spot you’d leave it in and your closet was open, a couple garments and some shoes strewn about on the floor. It looked like you’d gotten dressed and dipped. He figured maybe Ororo or Jean might know where you were, leaving your room and looking for them instead. He found them shortly after, huddled in the kitchen. Again, he asked if either of them knew where you were.

“She’s in her room, she went up before dinner,” Ororo answered.

“No, she’s not. And her purse is gone.”

Both women turned to each other with the same worried expression.

───────♡──────────────♡───────

Having tried your cellphone about thirteen times from just about everybody’s phones, they all decided they had to tell Charles. He used his ability to connect with every mutant on the planet to try and locate you, visualizing with his eyes closed. Everyone stood in his study, anxiously awaiting his conclusion. After a moment of silence, he started to silently chuckle to himself.

“What’s so funny?” Logan asked immediately, crossing his arms and furrowing his eyebrows.

“I’m afraid you all have your work cut out for you,” he replied, finally opening his eyes.

“So, where is she?” Ororo asked, worry in her voice. 

“There is a club called The Nightcrawler - “ Charles began to explain, but Logan interjected impatiently. 

“Club? What, like a book club?” He nearly scoffed. There was no way you were at some sleazy nightclub in the city. You were a homebody and an introvert, neither of which made clubbing enjoyable. 

“Maybe we should just let her have fun,” Jean began to say, but Logan was already halfway out the door.

Uncharacteristically, you found yourself dressed to the nines in the middle of a dance floor full of people. You’d spent a while trying outfits in your room, searching for something you could actually wear out that wasn’t sweatpants and a hoodie. You’d settled on a halter top that tied at your neck and in the back and a pair of ridiculously tight pants that you’d bought forever ago and never had the guts to wear. You ended up standing in front of the mirror, choosing a pair of very cute but very uncomfortable shoes and looking over the outfit. If you weren’t Logan’s ‘type of girl’, you sure as hell were somebody’s. Trying to get yourself out there may be the best solution to forgetting the heart-crushing infatuation you had with your best friend who would never see you as anything more. 

“I feel ridiculous,” you chuckled to yourself, turning in the mirror to see the back of your outfit. You did look good, just super out of your comfort zone. You grabbed your bag and ended up slipping out when everyone was eating dinner. That’s how you ended up where you were, pushing your way through the crowd of people with a drink in your hand. You passed the raised lounge area and felt a hand on your shoulder, making you turn suddenly.

“Hey, you wanna dance?”

He was tall, leaning down a little to shout over the music. He was pretty good looking but didn’t look like Logan in the slightest, which you realized was exactly the point of going out tonight. He was dressed nice and smelled like expensive cologne. 

“Sure, why not?”

As you abandoned your half finished drink on a table and let him pull you a little further into him, a familiar song started to thump through the speakers.

“I love this song!” You exclaimed, letting the nameless guy rest his hands on your hips.

S.O.S., she's in disguise

S.O.S., she's in disguise

There's a she wolf in disguise

Coming out, coming out, coming out

“Ironic,” you muttered under the music.

───────♡──────────────♡───────

Logan walked ahead of Ororo, Jean and Scott, his long legs taking him much further at a much faster pace.

“Logan, slow down!” Ororo called out, jogging a bit to catch up with him.

“What if she didn’t even want to be there? What if some guy dragged her there?”

“Oh,” Jean laughed, “ I see. You’re jealous.” 

“No.”

“Yup.”

“Nope.”

“So you’d be fine if we walked in there and she is with a guy?” 

Logan slowed his pace as they approached the entrance, “sure, whatever,” feigned disdain in his voice.

The second the door opened, the bass of the music was overwhelming. It was dim, save for a few colorful lights projecting around the room. The four of them were squished together near the door, trying to pick you out in a sea of moving people. 

“This is gonna be like finding a needle in a haystack,” Scott shouted.

“Not necessarily,” Ororo replied, a smug smile on her face.

“What?” Logan furrowed his eyebrows.

She pointed across the room and he followed her gaze.

There's a she wolf in the closet

Open up and set it free 

There's a she wolf in your closet

Let it out so it can breathe

You didn’t even look like you. He’d never seen you in anything that showed that much skin or any clothes that even hugged you like that, for that matter. 

And you were with a guy.

Sitting across a bar, staring right at her prey

It's going well so far, she's gonna get her way

“So, what did we tell you?” Jean shouted, waving her hand in front of his glaring eyes.

“Just some kid,” he replied dismissively, turning to her, “doesn’t mean anything anyway.”

“You sure?” Scott nudged his shoulder, making Logan look towards you again.

That kid had his hands up the sides of your top with his head craned down to kiss your neck, your back to his chest. You were giggling, playfully smacking his arm. Truthfully, you thought the attention was nice for a change. After trying so hard for too long to get Logan to notice you, it felt good to have someone pay attention to you in that way. 

Not looking for cute little divos or rich city guys

I just want to enjoy 

By having a very good time

And behave very bad in the arms of a boy

You felt his hands squeeze your hips a little harder, enough for his nails to dig into your skin. Out of instinct, you felt your canine teeth start to poke against your lower lip. You tried in vain to tug his hands from you, only making him tighten his grip.

The switch in demeanor was obvious even from across the dark room, your smile turning into a grimace that bared your sharp teeth. You yanked the sleeves of his jacket to make him finally let go, turning around while he still had his arms ghosted around you.

S.O.S., she's in disguise

S.O.S., she's in disguise

“Touch me like that again, you son of a bitch, and I will rip you to fucking shreds.”

You gathered fistfuls of his shirt, bringing him down to eye level so he could see your snarling teeth and gleaming eyes as a hint that you weren’t bluffing. 

There's a she wolf in disguise

Coming out, coming out, coming out

Before anyone could even tell him to stay put, Logan had already disappeared into the crowd of people.

“God damn it,” Scott huffed, following Jean and Ororo when they went after him. 

“Logan!” Jean yelled, trying to grab his jacket to slow him and only having him slip out of her grip. 

There's a she wolf in the closet

Let it out so it can breathe

“Shit, I’m kinda into the fangs. What, you gonna bite me?” He was whispering in your ear, your hands still on his shirt. Before you could do something you were going to regret, you felt someone tug your upper arm and pull you away from him.

“Come on,” Logan snapped, “we’re leaving.”

“What the hell are you doing here? What do you mean we?” You yelled back. You didn’t want to stay anywhere near that guy but you weren’t ready to leave either and sure as hell not with Logan dragging you out like an angry parent.

“Hey, she doesn’t really look like she wants to leave with you, man,” the other guy interjected, keeping a grip on you by looping his fingers through one of the belt loops on your pants. 

“Yeah? She doesn’t want to stay with you either, jackass,” Logan moved his hand from your arm to hold your hand instead, “she’s not interested.”

What the hell had gotten into him? You felt like you were in the middle of a tug of war with two dogs. 

“No one’s gonna fucking ask what I want, right?” You tried to complain, neither of them hearing you. 

“Your little doggy girlfriend here was just about to take care of me. You mad about it?” The other guy laughed and you nearly lunged at him, Logan’s hand tugging you back. He intended to pull you away so he could get to him first, but Scott, Jean and Ororo jumped in just in time. 

“Alright - enough, enough, we’re leaving!” Jean yelled, pushing you all towards the door, Logan dragging you the whole way. When you finally were out in the cool evening air, you angrily yanked your hand from his.

“What are you guys doing here?” You asked, turning to Logan, “and what the fuck was that?”

“What was that? You’re welcome - “ 

“I didn’t ask you to come save me - from what, having a good time?”

“Oh, yeah, it looked like you were having a lot of fun,” he scoffed, “he had you by the hip so hard he probably left a bruise.”

He instinctively reached his hand out to check and you swatted it away, “Don’t - Don’t touch me!”

None of them had ever heard you sound so pissed off and you’d definitely never snapped at Logan like that before. 

You took a deep breath and reached down to slip off your shoes, leaving you barefoot on the concrete. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologized to the rest of them,” but why are you guys here?”

“You left without saying anything, we couldn’t find you and we wanted to be sure you were safe,” Ororo sighed, hugging you in relief, “we’re so glad you’re okay.” 

You hugged her back.

“I just - I wanted to disappear for a while,” you explained apologetically, avoiding Jean and Scott’s gaze. 

“Do you know how stupid it was to run off and not tell anyone where you were going?” Logan scolded you, but Jean clicked her tongue at him.

“Shut it! Enough from you! You’ve done enough damage control!”

The ride home was almost silent, your tired body slumped in the backseat between Scott and Jean, until Ororo spoke from the front passenger seat.

“Honey, I don’t mean this in a bad way, but,” she paused, thinking over her words, “what were you gonna do to that guy if we hadn’t stopped you?”

You understood what she meant immediately. 

“What, you think I was going to kill him?” you asked, crossing your arms and leaning forward in your seat, “I wasn’t. I don’t do that unless I have to and you know even then I hate doing it.”

“I know…so, what were you doing with a guy like him anyway?” she asked, trying to move on from the question that had clearly made you upset, “he seemed kinda shady.”

Logan was gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles were white, dreading the answer.

You shrugged your shoulders, staring at the synthetic fabric of your pants.

“Liked the attention, I guess,” you answered honestly, kind of hoping you could throw anyone off the idea of you being interested in Logan, “it’s been awhile since a guy has liked me like that.”

“He only wanted one thing from you anyway,” he scoffed from the front seat. Ororo glared at him, about to tell him to mind his business before you stopped her.

“And I can’t want it either?”

That shut everybody up and Ororo turned to him again, a look on her face that said ‘you asked, you got the answer’.

You tried to bolt to your room when you all got home but Logan was quick to follow, catching up with you to stand in your path in the hallway outside of your bedroom. 

“What’s going on with you?”

“Leave me be.”

You tried to dodge around him but he stuck his arm out. 

“Logan.”

He raised his eyebrows, waiting for you to continue speaking.

“Move.”

“I’m not leaving you alone until you tell me what’s going on with you. You don’t disappear like that, ever. And I wanna talk to you about last night - “

“There’s nothing to talk about. Goodnight,” you huffed, ducking under his arm and opening your door.

“I care about you, you know, I was worried,” he began to explain.

You tried to slam the door in his face but he stuck his foot out, jamming his boot between the door and the doorframe. You let go in defeat and turned away, gathering your pajamas as if he wasn’t in the room.

“Yeah? Why?,” you scoffed, trying with everything in you to bite your tongue but failing miserably, “I’m not your type of girl. What’s there to worry about?”

Logan’s face fell. He pushed the door closed behind him. 

“Is that what this is about? That’s why you went out?”

“Why do you care?” 

You still had your back to him, furiously shuffling through clothing in your dresser.

“Stop.” 

You felt his hands on your arms as he came up behind you, paralyzing you in your spot.

You let him turn you around gently, almost chest to chest.

“I didn’t mean that.”

“You don’t have to lie to spare my feelings -“

“I’m not.”

He leaned back a little to force you to look him in the eye.

“I only said that - listen, I only said that because - “ Logan paused, biting his lip till it nearly bled, but you shook your head and slipped by him again.

“Please, don’t treat me like I’m stupid, Logan.”

You sounded so exasperated, tears forming in your eyes when you turned your back to him.

“Fuck,” he sighed, “I only said that because I didn’t want you to like me.”

You wiped the tear that rolled down your cheek and turned back to him, a confused expression on your face.

“It worked, are you happy?”

“No, I’m not - “

“Well, guess it backfired. Get out of my room.”

You were face to face again, keeping your mouth in a tight line so your lip wouldn’t quiver. It felt stupid to cry in front of him, but you couldn’t really help it once it started. 

“Oh, god, please, don’t cry,” he begged, leaning down and actually bringing a hand up to your face to wipe away a tear that rolled down your cheek. You wanted to smack it away, tell him again to just get the hell out , but you couldn’t.

“Why would you do that?” You mumbled out quietly, finally letting the overwhelming feeling of sadness cancel out any rage you had for him. You couldn’t look him in the eye again, concentrating on the throw rug you were standing on.

“I’m so sorry, princess, I am. I’m really fucking stupid,” he huffed. 

You were surprised by the softness of his voice and finally tore your eyes from the floor. He’d called you that before, but usually in a teasing way. This time it sounded endearing, like a plea of your name. 

“And what happened there, at the club? ‘She’s not interested’, what was that about?” You continued.

He sighed, still trying to figure out what exactly it was that he wanted to say. He realized there probably wasn’t much of a way to beat around the bush and he groaned, closing his eyes as he stood in front of you to make spilling his guts a little less agonizing.

“I like you - like you a lot, and I was an asshole because I figured if you hated me, you couldn’t like me back and it would save you the trouble.”

Hearing no response, he finally opened his eyes to see you still standing in the same spot, your lips parted.

“Save me the trouble of what?”

You were confused, your eyes narrowed as if you were angry.

“I don’t know…having to deal with me, I guess. I - I’ve never felt the way I feel about you for anyone else and it scares the shit out of me.”

You could hear him swallow hard, his eyes looking everywhere around the room except at you. 

“And earlier, when we picked you up,” he continued, “I acted like that because I was jealous, alright? Can’t stand to see some asshole on you like that, and you were dressed all nice and - I don’t know.”

You’d never heard him sound so nervous in all the time you’d known him.

“You are my type of girl,” he finally choked out, “only type of girl I’d ever want.”

All you could do was inhale sharply, his words echoing in your mind. 

“It’s alright if you hate me, I can’t say I really blame you. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

He began to walk out, convinced he’d fucked up beyond repair.

“Logan.”

Your voice stopped his hand from turning your doorknob and he turned back to you. 

No longer crying, you tentatively stepped forward a bit, nervously playing with the front hem of your top. 

“You’re not something to deal with, you know,” you muttered, letting your hair fall in front of your face.

You supposed this was the point where it was your turn to explain.

“I’ve liked you for a long time, Logan, probably since the day I walked in here and I just - I think I wanted someone to distract me so I wouldn’t wallow in self pity because you didn’t want me.”

“You were trying to get over me,” he realized aloud, a small smile on his face to hide the hurt, “I deserved that.”

After a moment of tense silence, he spoke again.

“Did it work?”

His voice was low and soft, a tone you’d rarely heard him speak with.

You pursed your lips and finally lifted your head, taking a deep breath. 

“No. I don’t think it was ever going to, either,” you laughed a little, “when that guy asked me to dance, the first thing I thought of was that he didn’t look anything like you.”

Your voice trailed off a little at the end, a little embarrassed to confess that even if Logan had already flat out told you he was interested in you.

Without another word, he came close enough to reach for your hands and gently intertwine your fingers with his. He cleared his throat, nervously chewing his bottom lip before he spoke.

“Can I kiss you?”

You must have had this dream a million times over, waking up night after night and feeling so empty because none of it was real. But now, with his hands in yours, it was very real.

You eagerly pressed your lips to his, not wanting to waste another second. His lips were soft and you were encompassed in the scent of his body wash and cologne, smelling of pine and cedar wood. You brought your hands up to play with his hair at the back of his head. Logan moved his arms to wrap around your waist, pulling you further into him. 

When you finally pulled away from each other, you were both smiling like idiots.

“We should’ve done that much sooner,” you giggled.

“Agreed.”

His fingers traced small circles on the exposed skin of your back, making you shiver.

He kissed you again, this time with much more intensity. It wasn’t long before your tongues were in each other's mouths and you both had fumbled yourselves over to the end of your bed.

“Wanted you for so long,” he mumbled between kissing your neck and jaw, his hands still sliding up and down your back, “I was so stupid.”

“We both were,” you giggled a little, cut short into a moan when he licked your neck all the way from your collarbone to under your ear.

“L-Logan,” you gasped, unable to hide your blushing face.

He hummed into your neck, bringing his mouth to your ear, “Can I show you how sorry I am? Let me make it up to you.”

His voice made the hair on the back of your neck stand up and you let him pull you onto him to straddle his lap, lost in the feeling of his hands on you.

“Mmm, uh-huh,” you hummed, mouth hung open as he sucked light marks into your neck. 

“You have to use your words, pretty girl,” he brought his head up to rest his forehead against yours. He cupped your jaw tenderly, almost as if you’d disappear if he let go. 

Before you could answer, he moved his hands to drag your hips over his, grunting when he felt the pressure.

“Y-yes, yeah - please,” you choked out between moans, tugging his hair harder every time he pushed and pulled your hips.

“Please what, baby?”

“You - you can make it up to me,” you groaned into his neck. 

He effortlessly lifted you by your thighs and laid you with your back to the bed. You untucked his white t-shirt from his jeans as he crawled over you, desperate to get your hands underneath it. You lightly scratched your nails along his back, making him groan into your ear. He kissed down your neck to the center of your chest, gently slipping his fingers under the hem of your top and around the back. 

“Can I take this off you, baby?”

You were already sitting up before he could finish his sentence, reaching to try and untie the knot at the back of your neck.

“Eager, huh?”, he chuckled, “let me, sweetheart.”

He wrapped his arms around your lower back to tug at the knot, feeling it come loose in his hands. He snaked his hands up to the back of your neck, doing the same to the tied strings there. When it came loose, the only thing holding the piece of fabric to you was his hands at the back of your neck. He let it slip from his fingers, a smirk on his face when it fell completely.

You threw the garment somewhere to the floor and tugged on the collar of his t-shirt, bringing him down with you as laid back again and pressed your lips to his. He pulled back for a moment to yank his shirt off and immediately return his mouth to yours, making his way down to your neck. He brought both his hands to your chest and swept his thumbs over your hard nipples, eventually bringing his lips to them and sucking. 

“Ah - Logan,” you whined, making him smile against your skin.

“I like it when you say my name, pretty girl,” he mumbled, dragging his fingers down your sides and hooking them into the waistband of your pants. He kissed all the way down to your hips, moving himself to lay on his stomach with his head between your thighs. 

Before he could ask you if it was alright to rid you of them, you were already unbuttoning your pants and pushing them down your hips and thighs. He took them off the rest of the way for you and you kicked your panties off with them.

He hooked his arms around your thighs to pull you closer, licking his lips and resting his cheek on the inside of your thigh.

“I thought about you a lot, you know - like this,” he huffed, his warm breath fanning over your pussy.

You had your hands in his hair already, swiping fallen strands of hair out of his face.

“I thought about you like this, too,” you admitted, sighing as he started to plant kisses right above where you wanted him the most.

“Yeah?”

His teasing voice brought goosebumps to your skin and you nodded, gasping when you finally felt his lips graze your clit.

“This what you think about when you fuck yourself?” He mumbled into you, the vibration of his voice making you tighten your grip in his hair. He growled like an animal, trying to push you even further into his mouth by the grip on your thighs.

You were trying to choke out an answer, distracted by the wet sounds of him messily eating you out.

“Y - ah, yes, yeah - not as good as the real thing, though.”

He laughed with his mouth still attached to you and you tightened your thighs around his head, keeping him in place.

He could have spent hours with his mouth to your cunt, practically fucking you with his tongue while you whined his name. 

A knock on your door sounded through the room, the both of you freezing in place.

“Hey, I just wanted to check on you. Are you feeling okay?”

It was Scott.

 You grimaced, thankful at the very least that your door was locked, but Logan had a terribly smug smirk on his face. 

“Y-yeah, I’m alright, just - just tired,” you managed to choke out, stuttering when you felt two of his fingers slip into you effortlessly.

“You sure?”

You sighed, hating and loving Logan at the same time for what he was doing. 

“Yup, th-thank you, m’ jus’ gonna go to bed.”

Scott responded with a goodnight and you groaned in relief when you heard him walk away.

Logan was curling his fingers inside of you, still lapping at your pussy and letting you use your grip on his hair to angle his head however you wanted him. You felt the pressure in your lower stomach rise and you tried to warn him, tugging on the hair on the back of his head.

“Logan, I’m - “

“C’mon, pretty girl, c’mon.”

His encouragement sent you over the edge, euphoria blooming from your lower stomach and spreading through you. You had to cover your mouth to muffle your pornographic moans, but Logan reached up to tug your wrist.

“Uh-uh, wanna hear you, beautiful,” he mumbled into you, practically pushing your thighs even further around his head.

“Fuck, L-Logan, too - too sensitive,” you stuttered out, trying to pull his face away by his hair and failing miserably because of his grip around your thighs.

He eventually reluctantly detached himself and crawled back on top of you, sucking the taste of you off his fingers. 

“I could do that for hours, you know, if you let me,” he groaned, pulling your hips up to him so you could feel the weight of his hard cock underneath his jeans.

Still sensitive, you reactively gripped his biceps and dug your fingernails into his skin. You were going to apologize and were quickly cut off by the guttural moan he let out into the side of your neck.

“Fuck,” he groaned, rocking his hips against yours.

“You’re into pain, huh?” 

You figured it was your turn to tease him, dragging your fingernails from his shoulders all the way down his back.

“You’re gonna pay for that, pretty girl,” he grunted, moving quickly to undo his belt and strip himself of the rest of his clothing. 

When his cock sprung up and hit his stomach as he took off his boxers, you swallowed hard; already feeling a wanting ache in your stomach again. You figured he was big - he was already a tall guy, after all - but he was far bigger than any guy you’d ever seen. Logan noticed the way you bit your lower lip, resting himself on top of you again and bringing his thumb up to pull your lip from under your teeth.

“What, are you nervous? It’s alright sweetheart, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

His voice was so soft and gentle, a tone you rarely ever heard from him. 

You could feel the weight of his cock against your inner thigh, heavy and already leaking. 

“ ‘m not nervous, I want you, please,” you begged, wrapping your legs around his waist. You reached your hand between your bodies to line him up with your entrance, trying to push him in with your legs around his waist. 

“You sure?” he huffed, trying with every muscle in his body to not slam into you in one thrust. 

You nodded eagerly, scratching at his lower back. 

Logan couldn’t help himself and gave in, slipping himself into you.

“So tight,” he groaned into your neck, pushing himself in even further.

“You - fuck - you’re so fucking big,” you admitted truthfully, nearly drooling at the feeling of him stretching you out. 

“Feels good?”

It was hard for him to speak when you were so wet that he was nearly slipping out of you as he gently rocked his hips back and forth, trying to be gentle and let you adjust to his size. 

“Mm - uh-uh,” you hummed, gasping each time he pushed further.

“Use your words, sweetheart,” he huffed and you groaned, digging your nails into him. 

“Y-yes, yeah - want you all the way in,” you whimpered.

That was all it took for him to be buried in you, grinding his hips into yours so that you were pinned to the mattress. 

He worked up to a devastating pace, practically slamming your headboard into the wall.

“S-someone’s gonna - someone’s gonna hear us,” you managed to gasp out, out of breath every time he filled you and pulled back again. 

“Don’t care, let ‘em,” he pressed his forehead to yours, bringing a hand up to your face to affectionately cup your cheek. It was so sweet and almost disgustingly hot, the caring gesture contrasting the intense feeling of him repeatedly slamming into the sensitive spot inside of you. 

He really didn’t have a care in the world about who heard you both, far too lost in the feeling of finally being able to have you under him like that. You had sweat soaked strands of hair stuck to your face, your eyes squeezed shut, and he was almost sure you’d never looked more beautiful. 

“So fucking pretty,” he huffed, his thumb swiping your bottom lip. He had an idea, one he’d considered many times when he thought of you under him like this.

“Bite me.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, threading your hand through his hair, “are you sure?”

“Please.”

You forcibly unsheathed your fangs, letting them tentatively poke at his thumb that was still to your lips.

He moved his hand to your throat, resting it there without tightening his grip. 

“Please.”

His pleading had the heat in your lower stomach rising and you obliged, sinking your teeth into his shoulder. You felt guilty - you didn’t enjoy hurting people - until he was whimpering in your ear, moaning your name over and over again. 

You bit his neck, his shoulders, his lip - all the small puncture wounds healing themselves within seconds. 

Having him so pussy drunk and groaning praises into your ear brought the pressure in your lower stomach to a max and you cried out his name, letting him fuck you through your second orgasm. 

“ ‘s good, huh, princess? Come on me, c’mon,” he was begging, feeling your muscles tense around him. That drove him over the edge, his hips rutting into you and his thrusts becoming sloppy. He finally let himself go, filling you and letting it drip from you onto the sheets. He pulled back a little to see the mess you had both made, your inner thighs painted with a mix of his release and yours. He went to pull out completely and you clamped your thighs around his hips again, keeping him still.

“Want me to stay?”

“Mhm - please.”

The sexual tension was replaced with loving comfort, Logan keeping you to his chest as he laid you both on your side. His chin rested on the top of your head and your face was against his chest with your eyes closed. You smiled at the thump of his heartbeat in your ear, nearly letting it put you to sleep. 

“Hey, pretty girl,” he mumbled into your hair, planting a kiss on the top of your head, “you know I love you?”

The last three words made your eyes shoot open and you looked up at him, worried you’d misheard him or maybe he was just messing with you.

“Really?”

“Of course. You think I would’ve done that with you if I wasn’t in love?”

You thought hard for a second, realizing he was right. It wasn’t that he hadn’t had hookups before, but it had been quite a long time since he’d bothered to even get to know someone like that. He wasn’t the type to lead you on, either - always up front with you, even if he didn’t have to be. 

“I love you too,” you answered, unable to hide the wide smile on your face.

“I should’ve told you much sooner,” he sighed, his eyes fluttering closed as you snuggled into him again.

Before you could both fall asleep from exhaustion, he yanked the comforter over the both of you, hearing you mumble sleepily.

“You can make it up to me some more.”

───────♡──────────────♡───────

A/N: If you made it to the end I love you <3 pls lmk what you think and reblog+like if you enjoyed!! also still navigating how to write smut without using cringe terminology so forgive me if that part sucks

[not-neverland06]

broken promises

pt two

bodyguard!logan howlett x congressman's daughter!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Logan scoffed and shrugged. “I was fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds good to me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You took her home on your bike!”

“Well-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He doesn’t want me to crash.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you believe in it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s going to be hard to remember that. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get her out of here!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am so sorry about this. Really.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We look good,” you muse. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

People Against Mutants

Evolution or Monstrosities

Parents for the Removal of Mutant Children

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright, bub, hands off,” he warns. 

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

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

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

“Logan,” you start, tone nervous. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck, quit that, would ya?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

General Taglist: @evasmlp

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

[sivyera]

nsfw headcanons and kinks of harry potter characters

ft. harry, ron, cedric, fred, george, draco, blaise, theodore, tom, hermione, pansy

a/n: well there is obviously a lot of SMUT, also it's a female reader

༺☆༻

⤷ Harry - lingerie

harry for sure loves when you wear some nice pair of lingerie, he finds it so hot when the nice lace hugs your body so perfectly. every time when he's out, he looks for some new pair of lingerie that he would buy you. oh yeah he buys you every single pair but one time, you surprised him on his b-day with red pair of lingerie (like gryffindor theme lingerie) and he was hard within seconds.

"oh- oh my fucking god, you look amazing sweetheart. do a spin for me please- slowly, i wanna see how pretty you look in this" harry hummed while he sat on his bed with you slowly turning in front of him. he could feel his hard dick pressing against his pants, pre-cum already making his boxers dirty. he brushed his hand over his erection before he hummed again. "come closer baby, i wanna touch you..."

⤷ Ron - body worship

ron was very unexperienced at the start, you were basically his first everything, first girlfriend, first kiss, first lover. so when was the first time you two had sex, he was just so mesmerized by your whole body that he had to watch himself for not cumming into his pants just from the sight of your naked body. you are gorgeous in his eyes, more than that! from that time it kinda sticked with him, every time you two have sex now, he has to worship you before anything, he wants you to know how beautiful you are on his eyes...

you could feel ron's hands tracing soft patterns over your sides while his eyes were glued to your boobs. "bloody hell, baby you are so beautiful.. " he mumbled while he moved his big palms over your boobs, squeezing them lightly. "i can't belive how lucky i'm to have you, now let me make you feel good." he added before he took off your panties and kissed his way down to your pretty cunt.

⤷ Cedric - praise kink

cedric is overall very vocal when you two have sex, he either growls, hums, groans, breaths heavily or he's mumbling praises to you. he really cannot help himself when he sees you all spread under him; your legs wrapped around him, your hands scratching his back while he holds your hips and is thrusting into you, mercilessly. he always makes sure that you can hear him properly so he usually leans closer to you, brushing his lips over your ear in soft kisses, whispering praise right into your ear.

"you're doing so good princess, taking all of me like this..." he whispers into your ear, his hips are crushing against yours, his dick hitting every right spot while you're a moaning mess under him. "you feel so good, i can't get enough of you, my sweet girl.." he groans again into your ear while his tempo isn't slowing down.

⤷ Fred - public sex

fred is thrilled with the idea of getting caught, it's the adrenaline and the possessivness from him screaming, i mean he wants people to know that you're his, that you chose him and that only HE makes you feel this good. so you two usually have sex somewhere around hogwarts. empty classroom, broom closet, empty gryffindor common room, bathroom, you name it.

"shh baby, be quiet you don't want anybody to catch us, do you?" he smirks while he has you seated on a desk in empty potion class. both of you are skipping class so it's pretty quiet outside on the hallways, anyone who will walk past can hear you. he doesn't care how loud you are because he doesn't care if you two get caught, he just wants to tease you. even tho you try to be quiet, you can't help yourself and moan again. "naughty girl yeah, let everybody know how good i make you feel..."

⤷ George - orgasm denial

george loves the face you make when he pushes you to the edge but just seconds before you're about to cum, he slows down his moves or stops completely, kissing your skin instead. he also loves teasing you but the way you get all pouty and squeeze around him when he denies you your orgasm is just something he can never get tired of. but eventually he'll let you cum and it's always the best orgasm ever.

he was thrusting into you in the perfect rhythm when you felt the familiar knot forming inside your belly, but just when the knot was about to release, he stopped. instead he immediately pressed his lips against your chest, kissing you around your boobs. "i know baby, i know... i'll give you what you want but god- when you squeeze around me like this, i can't help myself."

⤷ Draco - daddy kink

draco has big daddy issues so many of you could say that he'd hate being called daddy but he actually loves it. it makes him feel good, powerful and in control which he never was while being back home so... when you started calling him like this, he didn't let you stop. he sees you as his blessing and he wants to protect you with everything he has, like a good daddy should protect his precious baby.

"you're such a good girl for daddy, princess..." draco huffed while he was buried deep inside you. his hands were pressing your knees to your chest which made you ass go little up, letting him hit the perfect spot inside you. "yes, tell me who's your daddy? mhmf-..." he continues while you're mumbling under him. he loves when those sweet words leave your pretty mouth, it almost always makes him cum in seconds.

⤷ Blaise - bondage

blaise loves seeing how your flesh presses under the bondage, making your thighs and boobs look even more soft and squishy than they already are. he either bondages your whole body or only ankles and wrists so you can't move, but he loves both equaly. he always takes his time when he's wrapping the rope around your body but he also always makes sure that everything he does is comfortable to you, it could be dangerous for you and he doesn't wanna hurt you.

"you feelin' good, babe?" he speaks while his long fingers are brushing over your inner thighs, his eyes basically glued to the plush of them. he could feel his hard dick twitching in his boxers, leaving a small wet mark over the fabric so he quickly strokes himself before he continues. "you look so pretty like this, all just for me... take a deep breath, babe, just like this..."

⤷ Theodore - deep throat

there is nothing more theo loves more than when you are on your knees, your glassy looking up at him with tears falling down your cheeks while he hears how you are gagging on his dick. he doesn't care if you have good or bad gagging reflex, you can take it for him. if it's very serious and you just have to take a quick pause, he'll let you rest for like 30s before pushing you down on his dick again, this time little deeper than before. and when you let him cum into your mouth, you got yourself "bonus" orgasm.

"ngh- fuck baby-... your tongue feels so good around me, mhmm..." he hums while his head falls down between his shoulder blades with his fingers being tangled in your hair, pushing your head lower on his dick. his groans and moans are non-stopping while he can feel himself getting closer and closer. when he looks down at you and sees your pretty, bambi eyes already staring at him, he can feel himself cum. "oh dio-... now swallow for me, amore."

⤷ Tom - choking

choking makes feel tom in control, in control of your life while he brings you the best pleasure of your life. he can feel your pulse point under his thumb while you make this incredibly fuckable face, it drives him wild and incredibly horny. he can feel your heartbeat while he also makes you feel so good, it makes him feel powerful and he's hungry for power, any kind of power. but he'd never let you pass out, that's a big no for him.

he thrusted inside and out of you, mercilessly, while he had his hand firmly wrapped around you neck, perfectly feeling how was your heart beating through your pulse point. "oh are you about to cum? yeah, cum for me, my love..." he growled when his grip got tighter, making your eyes close in pleasure. you were still moaning under him which made him go little faster. with all of this, he came as well.

⤷ Hermione - thigh riding

hermione loves when she can multitask, it's somehow comforting to her. so one time when you found her in the library, learning for some up coming test, writing into her books; you sat on her thigh, wanting to distract her, she was hooked. she loved the feeling of you on her thigh, pleasuring yourself while she could write some notes into her textbook. from that time, she loved it and she often pulls you onto her lap with her thigh in perfect position for your pussy.

she wrote the last words into her book before her hands grabbed your hips, making you move faster, making your pussy spread over her thigh. "mhm you feel good like this? yes, you do? oh i know... come on, little faster." she mumbled into your ear, kissing you all the way down to your neck while her nails dug into your soft hips making you moan.

⤷ Pansy - face-sitting

pansy is literally obsessed with your pussy and all the noises you make when her tongue is buried deep inside you. she loves to explore all your folds because every time her tongue presses against a new spot, you squeeze your thighs around her head which makes her rub her thighs against each other. her eyes are glued on you the whole time while she presses her nose against your clit.

"mhmh come on-..." she quickly mumbles before she pushes your hips more onto her mouth while her tongue pushes deep inside you. her hands helped your hips slowly move back and forth while her tongue was licking each of your folds, swallowing each of your juice that she got on her tongue. your moans filled her ears and she could see you were getting closer which made her tongue work even faster.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

katsuki is pissed the fuck off.

it doesn't take a rocket scientist to tell. whenever he's angry he makes it extremely obvious and most of the time it becomes everyone's problem. but it's weird to you because he was fine like, 5 seconds ago.

until 5 seconds ago he'd gotten back from buying groceries for the class and kissed you on the forehead as a greeting. he'd even brought the oranges you'd begged him to get last minute because you'd randomly been craving them, even after saying he wouldn't (but you both knew he would.)

but now he's pissed, and you have no idea why.

he's not saying anything either, but he keeps huffing and clicking his tongue every once in a while, fist pressed hard against his cheek and his jaw locked tightly chewing on the little piece of the own orange he'd been eating and finished a bit ago.

you keep munching on your piece of orange as you stare at him, and then you poke at his cheek. he grunts, shooing your hand away and leaning away from you.

"what's got you so grouchy ?" you tilt your head with a raised brow, he scoffs. readjusting his leg on the couch. you fight the urge to roll your eyes. he's ignoring you now ?

"katsuki."

silence.

"katsukiii-"

"it's nothin'." he growls, huffing through his nose.

this time you do roll your eyes "sure, that's why you're being all cranky." slowly, you inch towards his spot on the couch where he'd secluded himself away. he hasn't left the room and he doesn't react to you getting closer besides a slight side eye, so you know he's probably just being dramatic.

his nose scrunches up at your wording and he pretends he doesn't notice you lifting his arm up to lay in them. he doesn't comment on how he almost immediately changes his position to make you more comfortable.

"m'not cranky." he spits, eyebrows contorting and a pout settles onto his face "not a baby."

could've fooled me you think, but you decide against actually saying it. you're smile widens when his eyes narrow once he meets yours, he pinches your side "quit starin' at me."

"katsukiii. what's got your panties in a bunch ?" you coo and katsuki gives you the most repulsed look you've ever seen him make.

"don't ever say that ever again, i'm so fucking serious." he groans at your giggling, leaning his head away and shoving his palm in your face to get away from you like he couldn't just leave the room instead of actively pulling you closer to him. really, could've fooled you.

"ya didn't let me peel yer orange for you.." he mumbles grumpily.

you blink up at him "..what ?"

eyebrows furrowing just at the memory, he continues "was gone for three seconds to put away the damn groceries an' here you go, prancing around me, throwin' your peel away in the trash right in front of me."

oh, wow.

"katsuki. really ?"

"you know i always do it for you. yn." he sasses.

"that's why you were so mad at me ?" your giggles muffled by him pressing your head into his shoulder in a headlock.

"you were busy !" you fight weakly.

"so ? if you've got shit to do you come to me, i woulda done it in two seconds. peeling oranges doesn't take that long, dummy."

you keep giggling as you try to fight him off before you hear him snort and he releases you.

as stupid as it may sound, katsuki isn't the best when it comes to letting his affection be known through words, so you know how much acts of services, as small as they are, mean to him.

you sometimes forget how much he loves to do little things for you. throwing away your little candy wrappers, or already unwrapping your ice cream for you. or absentmindedly fixing up and sorting out your desk, or bookshelf when he sees your manga out of order or sticking out too much. the little ways he cares for you make your heart flutter. you smile up at him and offer him a piece of orange. he scowls at it.

"don't want your stupid orange." he mutters childishly, but you don't have enough time to pull away to eat it yourself before he grips your wrist. bringing it up to his mouth to eat it anyway. you roll your eyes with a fond smile.

"i'll be sure to leave the orange peeling to you from now on." you jest. he grunts in approval, softly chewing on the slice of juicy orange before patting your wrists, signalling he wants more. and you snort, but you still hand him another piece. his warm grip on your wrist remains even though he could very well just take it out of your hands. he hums again when the taste kicks in.

"you better, i mean it. otherwise it's your funeral."

thank my lovely lovely moot @kovu-bunnbunn for this lovely idea ! tysm twin ! :3

[pynkfairyheart]

pairings: peircer eren x black reader

warnings: smut 18+, kinda pervy eren

Good girl

“Hello?” Your soft voice rang over the chimes as you entered the tattoo parlor.

The shop was quiet, seemingly empty besides the softening chimes of the door and surprised cursing down the long hall.

“Shit- yeah. Just give me a minute. My apologies” The culprit of the cursing called.

In the meantime, you took a look around the lobby. The reviews didn't do the place justice. The largest wall contained a bright colorful mural, contrasting beautifully with the dark floors and connected black walls.

While admiring the piece of artwork, heavy thudding from the long hallway turned your attention to the most gorgeous man you had ever seen.

You never believed in love at first sight, up until now. You hadn't even known the man's name yet, but you craved him. The reviews warned you the entire staff was attractive but they clearly left out that this man was a god.

His long hair was pulled into a low bun, strands falling in his face, the color contrasting against his pale skin. He was tall, with a full sleeve on one of his muscular arms, and his green eyes had you drowning immediately. He couldn't be Onyankopon, they said he was a brother. Maybe Connie or, Levi-

“Hi, I'm Eren” He introduced himself after swallowing the large knot in his throat.

While in your own trance, you failed to notice how he froze the moment he saw you. The bright light you stood under showcased the sparkles of your pretty brown skin.

Your legs were on display as a result of the simmering heat outside, thick thighs causing them to roll up slightly. The fitted t-shirt you wore allowed the hardened buds of your nipples to peek through, despite the hot weather.

Eren never considered himself a pervert but the way his mind instantly thought about sucking on them till you begged him to fuck you had him thinking otherwise.

“Hi, I'm [☆]. Is this a bad time?” Oh, he could have come on the spot, your voice sounded even better without the numerous walls separating you and god your perfume had him wanting to devour you on the reception desk.

“No, no I just don't know how much I can do for you, the AC is out in all the rooms but mine and I don't even know how long that's gonna last so if you're looking for an hour long tat session you'll have to come back” He crossed his arms, muscles contracting against the white tee.

“Oh no, I'm just hoping to get a few piercings but I can definitely come back another time”

“No, I can do a couple of piercings. What were you thinking?” He grabbed the paperwork from under the counter, praying one of them would be your chest.

“Uh well, I want the other side of my nose, belly button, venus dimples, and my nipples but I understand if you can't do all of that or the last one I'll just come back”

“No, no I can do it,” He said too quickly, clearing his throat awkwardly before handing you the paperwork.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

“Good girl. You're doing such a good job for me, pretty. Just hold on for one second, lovey”

He was currently doing your last dimple piercing. The pain was unimaginable at first but as soon as the praises left his mouth all was forgotten besides the growing stickiness that rested between your thighs.

He praised you after every piercing a variation of “Good girl” “You're doing such a good job for me” “That's it, baby. You did so good” flowed from his pink lips. You could never decide which throbbing to focus on, the one from your new piercing or the throbbing of your clit.

With three new holes in your body and damp panties, it was now time for the piercing both of you were dreading yet excited for.

“Do I just take my shirt off here?”

“Wherever you're comfortable, baby. You can go in the bathroom or stay in here and I'll give you some privacy” He felt like a teenage boy again. His dick twitching at the thought of seeing you exposed.

“No, it's okay you can stay in here I don't mind”

“Oh. Okay,” He perked up. Giving you some privacy he turned his back, pretending to be busy when in reality he was trying to think of anything but you getting undressed behind him. Despite his concentration, all he could focus on was the sound of your necklaces and bracelets clanking at the movements you made.

He knew your nipples were still hard, especially since he took advantage of the working AC and he wondered what your moans would sound like if he flicked his tounge repeatedly over the bud, or if he pinched them in front of the mirror while you begged him to fuck you as you pressed your ass against his hard-

“I'm ready” Your soft voice broke him from his thoughts.

If his self control was any less he'd have gotten on his knees to worship you. There you were. Looking everywhere but him, tits exposed. If it weren’t for the fact other men besides him would see, he'd tattoo this image of you on his bare forearm.

“Are you ready?” He suppressed a groan.

“Mhm”

“Okay stand up for me” He led you to the mirror where he prepped each bud. During the process, you felt as if you could crawl into yourself. The most beautiful man you'd ever laid eyes on had his hands on your breast. Despite the occasion being nonsexual, you were convinced your arousal would start running down your thigh at any second.

“Is this okay?” He stood behind you.

You gave a simple hum of approval, thoughts gone as he explained how the process would go. You convinced yourself you could handle it, that it would all be over soon.

That was until he rolled the bud in between his fingers, the whimper you'd been holding escaping you.

‘fuck’ ‘fuck’

“Shit, I'm so sorry I- I didn't mean to do that, please understand I had no malicious intentions I just” He stumbled over his words.

He was just explaining the step by step process of the piercing. He wasn't thinking, just craving. He wouldn't have realized his actions if it weren't for the sound you let out. The sound he knew he'd replay in his head the moment you left the shop, stroking his cock as he imagined it were you down on your knees in front of him.

“It's okay” You reassured him. Your big eyes staring up into his through the mirror.

“I didn't…I don't mind”

⋆⭒˚.⋆

Before you knew it you were bouncing on his cock. His moans muffled as his mouth engulfed your breast. Tongue slightly grazing your nipple with the flickers of his tongue before sucking harshly.

He was stretching you out so good, leaky red tip repeatedly hitting your cervix as his frenum piercing brushed against your walls. The added pleasure contributing to the pace of your bounces as you chased your high.

“E-eren please” You whined, attempting to push his head away from the assault on your breast. His hair was everywhere, the ponytail holder long gone the moment your hands entangled in his hair. Your buds were so sensitive, every suck and swipe of his tongue had you squeezing around him, every clench releasing your cream that pooled at the base of his cock.

“Fuck” He groaned, reluctantly giving your boobs a break. His hands gripped the soft flesh of your ass, groping the brown skin before placing a hard slap on your cheek.

“Talk to me, pretty. You like this? Like bouncing on daddy's cock hmm?” His arms wrapped around you tightly as he fucked up into you.

“Oh my- fuck” You gave him control. Your head resting on his shoulder as you let out pornographic moans into his ear.

“Answer me, mama” Another slap landed on your ass.

Before you had time to register the mix of pain and pleasure on your flesh, the gentle pressure of his finger rubbing circles on your puckering hole had you seeing stars.

“Fuck y-yes. I love it so much, daddy. Please don't stop” You whined. Tears of pleasure wetting the crook of his neck.

By no means was Eren a fast finisher but boy was he trying his best to hold on, you're pussy was just squeezing him so tight, the added tension on his scalp as you tugged on it every time he hit the spongy spot along your walls had his nails digging crescents into your skin.

“I'm so close, daddy, please”

“Let go mama” He pressed hot kisses along your neck and shoulder.

In that moment you came, your pussy tightening around the large girth of his cock. Clear liquid squirting from you in streams as he continued his thrust. Your arousal splashing and dripping onto the chair.

With sweat dripping down his forehead, and stray hairs sticking to him, his thrust became sloppy and his breathing became heavier.

“S-shit” He whimpered, head thrown back as he came harder than ever. Repeatedly pushing his load back into your pussy.

“Lemme take you on a date. Please” He panted once you both came down, his hands roaming your body as he looked down at you, green irises peeking out behind his blown pupils.

“Okay, yea- oh” A broken moan escaped you as he moved your hips up and down his length once again.

“Eren” You whined

“Don't tell me you're wiped out after one round, pretty girl. I know you have more in you, mama. Be a good girl for daddy”

for my eren girlies. this is probably the fastest I've ever wrote bc i just needed peircer eren. oh also how do yall feel about pegging bc i feel peircer eren can be a bit subby sometimes ttm. mwah <3

pt.2 wit the pegging ໒꒰ྀི˶˃ᆺ˂˶꒱ྀི১

[elliewithcellie]

Protector

summary: After months working for the BAU, your harbored feelings for your boss seem unrequited until your hunt for the unsub goes awry. (hotch x fem!reader)

wc: 9.8k (oh my god)

cw: slow burn, boss/employee dynamic, age gap pairing, criminal minds level violence, mention of alcoholism, implication of father issues, hurt/comfort, reader gets hurt, fluff, angst, SMUT (18+ MDNI), oral (f receiving), p in v sex, Hotch is a professional at heart and takes work boundaries seriously

a/n: Back in the saddle with a new man to hyper-fixate on. Hotch can GET IT. Also, let me know if anyone wants the SFW version I'm working on

“Looks like we’re doubling up,” Hotch announced, a sigh escaping his lips.

Before you could even process his words, the rest of the team sounded off, choosing their roommates for the duration of the case. All that remained were you and your boss. With the team dispersing, you awkwardly shifted your duffle bag to your other shoulder and looked up at Hotch.

His stern expression didn’t change as he looked back at you. “Come on. We’re 202.”

You followed him to the elevators, still unsure what to think. This was not only your boss but someone you had garnered quite a fondness for since you joined the BAU. Of course, you had managed yourself professionally thus far, but you were sure this was going to test your limits.

You understood the immediate pairings among the rest of the team. You were still fairly new, not quite to the rapport that the team had formed with each other. But it also made you think about how no one chose Hotch. The pressure to be Unit Chief also had to be lonely.

The elevator chimed, and the two of you shuffled in. You kept to yourself, trying to maintain composure. The lift from the first floor to the second felt like an hour, the silence deafening. You couldn’t shake your nerves. The doors opened, and he stepped out. You quickly followed.

Hotch opened the door and allowed you in first. The two double beds, office chair, mini fridge, and small bathroom were all less comforting to you than normal.

“Do you mind if I take the bed by the door?” Hotch asked, his voice softer than usual.

You blinked up at him, stirred from your preoccupation. “Yeah, of course. I like the window side anyway.”

“Thank you. If you’d like, you can have the shower first. I’d like to call Jack before he heads to bed.”

“Sounds good.”

You began to unpack your belongings and sighed in dismay. You had assumed that you would have a room to yourself as usual, so your pajamas were a little more revealing than you’d prefer your boss to see. Still, a t-shirt and shorts were reasonable sleep attire, so you tried not to dwell on it. You collected your things as Hotch dialed a number on his phone.

“Hey, buddy, how was your day?”

You smiled to yourself as you entered the bathroom. His “dad” voice was more upbeat, yet calm and soothing. With Hotch distracted on the phone, you could relax in the shower. The boiling water stung your skin, just the way you needed it. As you relaxed, you realized how silly it was for you to stress over the rooming situation. Hotch was here to do his job, just like you. And other than his intelligence, his kindness, and his fierce compassion for kids, you were sure you were only infatuated with him.

You finished up your shower and towel-dried your hair once you could no longer hear his muffled voice through the door. You were desperate not to waste Hotch’s time. With your hair still wet and your large t-shirt hanging over your shorts, you timidly exited the bathroom back to your bed, on your toes as if you were sneaking around. Hotch sat on his bed, his coat jacket now on the desk chair. He flipped through channels with the remote in one hand and loosened his tie with the other.

“All yours,” you spoke, struggling to get the words out.

Hotch looked up at you and gave a small smile. “Thanks.” He gathered up his things and closed the bathroom door behind him.

Another sigh of relief left your lips. You grabbed the book from your duffle and climbed into bed. You rolled over to turn on the lamp next to you and began to read, but before you knew it, sleep overtook you.

------

“Hotchner.”

You woke up to Hotch answering his phone. The sky was still dark. The only light illuminating the room was the alarm clock. You realized that you hadn’t turned off the lamp before you fell asleep, nor did you place your book carefully on the side table with a hotel pen as the bookmark.

“Alright. Yes. Right. Understood. We’ll be right over.”

You looked up at Hotch expectantly. He looked at you, then averted his eyes as he got out of bed. “Another young girl missing. She’s only 16.” He paced the floor for a moment, a short-lived break from the stoic leader he always has to be.

“I’ll call the others,” you said sitting up. His eyes returned to yours, the strain turning into relief. He only nodded and headed for the closet, suiting up right there.

You called the others and followed suit, leaving the hotel parking lot by 3:46 am.

------

The next 18 hours were long, stressful, and only moderately successful. The team was able to work out an arrangement with the kidnapper before their 24 hours were up. The girl, Heather, was returned to her parents with only a few bruises. But the kidnapper got away, practically goading you all at the ability to remain anonymous. The team was exhausted and out of ideas.

The team drove back to the hotel without a single word exchanged. The kidnapper’s voice rang in your head. He was so confident, arrogant even. There was almost never a moment where he fumbled over his words or cracked. His ruse lasted for hours. But he got sloppy in the end, fessing up to her location just enough for Garcia to triangulate. But something wasn’t adding up to you: his willingness to run instead of killing her when he had the chance.

Hotch spoke up, stirring you from your ruminations. “We need to start from scratch. Reid, give us a rundown on what, where, and why.”

“Well, we know his victims are all young women now ranging from 16 to 23. They come from middle to upper-class families. He sends messages to the families always demanding ransom within 24 hours. Three women have been killed, and now two have survived. The strange part is whether or not he stays truthful to his word. The parents have always given him what he wants, but then it’s up to his discretion whether he follows through.”

 “Based on these girls,” Prentiss interjected, “this guy’s intelligent. He prides himself on the ability to get away with this.”

“That’s good,” Hotch said, eyes still on the road. “But why work with us sometimes and not others?

The SUV hummed as its passengers sat in silence.   

You decided to speak up. “Prentiss said he prides himself on the ability to get away with this, right?” Everyone sat still, expectant for you to continue. “We’re looking at this the wrong way. This isn’t a sadist who gets off on killing. This isn’t a psychopath with a compulsion. This is a narcissistic sociopath who has been evading capture for weeks now. This is a game to him. It’s a game he knows he can win.”

“Which is why when he’s pressured, he releases the girl.” Hotch nodded along.

“He can take a loss where he can because, to him, the ultimate win is to not get caught,” Reid agreed.

“Great work,” Hotch said, parking the car. “You guys head in and get some good sleep. I’ll fill in the other van. Be ready for a big day of planning.”

You walked up with Reid and Prentiss, a small smile refusing to leave your lips. You cracked it, you thought to yourself.

Your two teammates teased each other up to the rooms, you following close behind. You weren’t the type to inject yourself into other people’s conversations, which ended up making it hard to connect with them. It was as if you had been adopted into a family that has known each other their whole lives. You were respected, sure, so there was no need to complain. You just wished that you could make jokes with them and have the levity they had during intense cases like this.

Still, even hearing your teammates laugh was enough for you tonight. You longed for a moment longer, but they said their goodnights and headed off.

You entered your room, much more relaxed than the night before. You had yourself all worked up, and for what? You gathered your things and headed to the shower, sure that Hotch wasn’t far behind and would call his son again.

As you exited the bathroom, Hotch entered the room. You jumped despite yourself.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said.

“It’s ok,” was all you said in response. You returned your things to your bag and slid into bed. You turned on the lamp and began reading while Hotch took his turn in the shower.

You were still reading when he returned, the book more interesting now than it was the night before. You glanced up only for a moment. Hotch wore striped pajama pants tonight, contrasted to the boxers you accidentally noticed earlier that morning. You looked back at your book but couldn’t read it. Your mind wandered to the message Hotch could be sending. Maybe your shorts were inappropriate. Maybe you weren’t meant to see his boxer shorts at all. Maybe he was just cold.

“Good work today,” Hotch said, interrupting your thoughts.

You smiled up at him. “It was a team effort.”

“We may have never come to the conclusion you did. Take the compliment.” Hotch’s lips raised to a subtle smirk, something you’ve only seen a handful of times and certainly never directed toward you.

“Yes, sir,” you said. “Thank you.” You couldn’t help but smile to yourself. Your eyes drifted back to your book.

“What’s your book about?”

Was Hotch trying to make conversation with you? True, it wasn’t as late as yesterday’s arrival, but in all of your months of working for the BAU, any discussion with the team had been strictly professional. Still, you blushed at the question.

“It’s a romance,” you confessed.

“I have to say,” Hotch began, “I’ve never read a romance novel. What about it appeals to you?”

You thought for a moment. “I guess it’s the suspension of disbelief. The relief to enter a reality where people love in big, romantic ways. Don’t you ever want to get swept off your feet?”

You cringed at the question, debating on whether it was appropriate to ask your superior about romance.

“I think I’d rather do the sweeping,” Hotch said thoughtfully.

You smiled at his words.

“You don’t think people love in romantic ways in this reality?” Hotch asked, looking up at the ceiling. His breaths were calm, and his face seemed to soften from serious to curious.

“I don’t know,” you said sincerely. “My sister is about to marry a real stand-up guy. He’s caring and has a good family who loves her, too. It’s one of those one-and-done fairy tale deals. Like truly made for each other. But I wouldn’t say that’s the norm. It’s not my norm, at least. So, yeah, I guess you could say I’m skeptical.”

You crossed your legs and fiddled with your thumbs. You tried not to reflect on your history, tried not to give any clue to your boss of your true beliefs. It didn’t ultimately matter to the conversation, anyway. The silence stewed as it stirred up new thoughts and old patterns, feeling yourself shut down the conversation. You didn’t mean to. You hated being seen as the one that was boring outside of work. The one that wasn’t friendly enough to get to know.

“I’m sure you don’t know,” Hotch began again, shaking you from your anxious thoughts, “but bringing up your sister reminded me that I met your dad a few years ago.”

You shot up. “You know about him?” You covered your face with your hands.

“He was nationally awarded for his work in counterterrorism. Of course, I know about him.” He laughed softly, a sound you weren’t used to but would never complain to hear it again. “I met him on a job in Bakersfield. He knew the town like the back of his hand. Is he why you joined?”

“In a roundabout way,” you sighed.

“He brought up his girls every chance he could.” Hotch smiled and turned to face you. “One was a soccer star in South Carolina on track to be a doctor. One was a track star a semester away from graduating with honors and applying to Physician Assistant programs, I believe.”

“My sisters are overachievers,” you said.

“Then it’s you he talked about the most. The musician, the future psychologist, the one who found fascination with the minute details of life.”

“My dad said all that?”

“He did. He had offered us beers when it was all over, and he shared photos of you all. You’re certainly much more grown now.” He chuckled.

Your cheeks flushed red at the comment.

“I showed him Jack playing tee-ball, and we both shared some stories before it was time to go. He had some great advice to give.”

“I’m sure he did,” you mumbled. “Sir, I don’t want you to think I got in because of him. He didn’t know until I made it to Quantico. I mean, yes, he always pushed the army and West Point like him, but I did this all on my own, Mr. Hotchner, I swear.”

“Hotch is fine,” he gently corrected. “I’m not worried about where you came from. I knew the entire time. But your qualifications are what got you on the team, not your father. Keep up the good work, and I’ll continue to remember that.”

“Yes, sir.” You thought to yourself for a moment. The candor of the conversation may have added to your bravery in this moment. “Hotch?”

He raised his eyebrows to imply he was listening.

“Umm, Is there anything that I can do to, like… never mind. I’m about to sound pathetic.” You huffed back down into your pillow. You couldn’t believe you were about to ask Hotch how to make friends.

“They’ll warm up to you, just like you’ll warm up to them. Just keep doing what you’re doing, and I’m sure they’ll see you for who you are.”

You sighed again. Of course, he knew what you were stressing about. He’s the chief profiler after all.

“I’ll let you read now,” Hotch said, getting up from bed. “I’m going to call Jack.”

You gave a small smile and nodded, and he left the room.

------

You woke up the next morning to Hotch returning to the room, two disposable coffee cups and a case file in his hands.

You jerked up from bed. “Am I late?” you asked, scared you slept through the alarm.

“No, no,” he said, walking over to you. “I’m early. Coffee?”

He held out one of the cups to you. You gently accepted.

“Thank you.” You looked over at the clock. 5:54. You rubbed your eyes. “Are you always up this early?”

“On the job, yes,” he said with no inflection. “Much to think about, and much to be done.” He sat back on his bed and reviewed the file you knew he had reviewed countless times. If he was anything like you, he was searching for some hidden puzzle piece, something that the team must have missed to solve the case once and for all. But it was never that easy. Still, maybe some fresh eyes could help.

You slid out of your bed and rested on top of his. “Can I help?”

“Be my guest.” He shifted the file your way for a better vantage point. You crossed your legs and sipped your coffee before getting to work.

You found yourself lost in thought, jotting down those thoughts in the margins. It helped to visualize your connections, even drawing physical lines to connect them. You noticed that the most recent girl didn’t fit the age range of the others, 19-23. You dug deeper, making a note to ask Garcia to run the connection between all of these girls. College? you wrote. There was a college campus within ten minutes of the hotel. One more thing struck you. All of the victims had their hair up in a high ponytail. You weren’t sure how that was associated yet, but you wrote beside each of the photos anyway.

As the early sun began to rise, you grew brutally aware of Hotch’s presence. His body leaned closer to yours, and you felt his eyes sear into your skin. You grew distracted, your mind wandering to the fact that you were wearing only a loose shirt and small shorts in Hotch’s bed. Was he noticing the same thing? Was this a breach of professionalism? Were you making him uncomfortable? Against all your will, you felt your body temperature rise in the form of a blush.

The alarm clock rang out, pulling both Hotch and your attention. You stretched over to turn it off.

“I’ll let you get ready,” Hotch said, jumping out of bed. He headed to the door, refusing to meet your gaze. “Meet me downstairs?”

“Yes, sir,” you said, slightly surprised by the questioning tone of your superior. He nodded and left the room before another word could be spoken.

-------

In the conference room of the local police station sat the team, all watching Hotch interact with the captain of the squad through the glass. You stayed facing the table with your head low. You couldn’t help the bounce of your leg. While the others inferred the conversation outside, your mind had fixated on the morning’s events. The heat of your boss’s breath had tattooed your skin, a branding to the back of your neck. The intimacy, the closeness, and then the flustered nature Hotch left in replayed in your mind. You couldn’t look at him until you could properly collect yourself.

“What’s on your mind, kiddo?” Morgan asked. Your head shot up. All eyes were on you now. You failed to hide the rouging in your cheeks.

“Nothing.” You shrugged, though you knew the contradiction in your body language.

JJ chuckled. “Nothing? You’re so tense, so distracted.”

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, huh?” Morgan asked again, a smile growing on his face. “Hotch keeping you up all night?”

You flinched at his name. You couldn’t help it, but you outed yourself all the same.

“No, I slept fine. I swear.”

“You flinched!” Prentiss laughed and pointed. “It is about Hotch, isn’t it?”

“Leave the poor girl alone,” Rossi said, not bothering to look up from his newspaper.

“Hon, you better tell us what happened in the next three seconds.” Derek swatted at Spencer’s chest. “Reid, help us out, here.”

“Based on the months we’ve known her, she tends to—”

 “Don’t you start profiling me, Reid.” You glared at Spencer across the table.

His arms shot up in the air as if to surrender, but a smirk remained on his face. “All I’m saying is that I know the physical signs of a crush when I see one.”

Your jaw dropped. The conference room filled with laughter.

“Leave her alone!” Garcia yelled from behind you. “She’s our sensitive little one!”

“I’m not 5,” you mumbled, crossing your arms. Penelope hugged you from behind as if to protect you from the others. The others continued to laugh, causing you to smile despite yourself. Morgan took a photo of you and Garcia, and warmth spread through you. Even with all the teasing, being here with the team felt good.

Just then Hotch rushed through the door. “Alright, let’s be seated and get to work. We have a big day ahead of us.” Garcia took her seat, but Hotch stayed standing, opting to position himself in front of the whiteboard. “After speaking with the captain and going through the case file with Y/N this morning, I determined our best attack on the situation. Though, it is rather unorthodox.”

The rest of the team stayed silent, waiting for the punchline. Hotch continued. “What do we know about our killer better than anything? His victimology. We know that he goes after girls and young women aged 16-23. They are middle to upper-class, and not the type to find themselves in trouble. Now, who do we all know who fits this very description?”

“Y/N,” Reid said.

All eyes returned to you, this time with a seriousness looming in the air.

“If we don’t want any other kidnappings, we need to give him what he wants. Going after the 16-year-old was off for him. He’s devolving. Which means we need to act fast before he kills again. This is the only way we can approach this head-on.”

“Hotch,” Emily began, “with all due respect, let me take this on. Or JJ. JJ has experience.”

“With his victimology going as low as 16 now, it should be someone who looks the part,” Reid replied.

“She’s just a kid, Hotch.” Morgan reached his hand toward your shoulder, but you gently nudged it away.

“But I’m not a kid at all,” you spoke up. “I have two degrees and the same job as the rest of you. I know I’m young and look younger, but I’m qualified. If my appearance can be used to put this guy away, then let me help. Let me do my job.” You looked up at Hotch, a sudden confidence flowing through your veins. “What do you need me to do?”

-------

For the rest of the day, the team helped you prepare for your role as a 22-year-old college student. The team strategized and planned, desperate to ensure your safety. Everyone added their two cents, but you were happy to receive all the insight you were given. You weren’t going to screw this up for them.

You, Hotch, Prentiss, and Morgan returned to the hotel to pick among your belongings to dress the part. Rossi, Reid, and JJ stayed behind with Garcia to set up intel at the station.

“The shorts you wore to bed,” Hotch began, “go put those on while we find a sweatshirt or jacket. In fact, wear the shirt you wore, too. The size could conceal the mic better.”

You nodded and grabbed your things before heading into the bathroom. It was not lost on you that your boss was thoroughly aware of your pajama situation, but due to the pivotal role you were to perform, it was easier to focus on the task at hand.

You returned from the bathroom where Emily greeted you with the mic. You lifted your arms, allowing Emily to snake the mic underneath your shirt, securing it to your sternum with sports tape. While doing so, Hotch and Morgan returned with a single sweatshirt in Morgan’s hand. It was grungy and old, not quite the goal aesthetic.

Still, Morgan handed it to you to try on. The three profilers evaluated your look.

“This isn’t gonna work,” Morgan said. Prentiss pinched her eyebrows together in dismay. Hotch stayed staring.

“Take off the sweatshirt,” Hotch ordered. “I think I have something better.”

You did as he said while he rummaged through his duffle bag. He pulled out a quarter zip of excellent quality, something he only wears on a successful plane ride home.

“Put it on.”

You didn’t hesitate to follow his instructions. It was a large fit, hanging just above the hem of your shorts and the sleeves landing at your fingertips. The three of them looked at you, then to their reference photos, then back at you. Something was missing.

“Call Reid. Maybe he can find any other similarity we’re missing,” Hotch said.

“No, I got it.” You remembered the notes you made earlier that morning. You took the hair tie from your wrist and pulled your hair up into a high ponytail. “Now, what do you think?”

“That’s it,” Morgan said.

“And just in time,” Emily noted, “We gotta get you to the college fast.”

On the ride to the school, Hotch reiterated the goals in place.

“All you need to do is walk across campus using the roads. Keep to yourself, and most importantly, do not—and I mean it—do NOT, get into the vehicle under any circumstances. Stall him, flirt with him, do anything you can to keep him in place. We’ll be right there. Got it?”

“Yes, sir. I got it.”

“We’re counting on you.”

“Good luck.” Prentiss smiled with seriousness behind her eyes.

Morgan grabbed your shoulder, turning you around. “Be smart, kiddo.”

You returned a small smile and left the van to venture on your walk.

------

You had to have walked the streets for at least an hour. The campus was massive, larger than any school you attended. You did as you were told and kept to yourself. The sun had long since set, so there was no warmth to guard you from the biting breeze. A car or two passed periodically, but none slowed down beside you. There was a peace in the solitude. One could chalk it up to the calm before the storm, but you weren’t afraid.

Another car passed, but this time it slowed down. Your heart stopped and landed in your throat.

“Excuse me,” the man called out. The voice was unforgettable. The very same voice that threatened to kill the girl over the phone. The voice that replayed in your mind for hours. You knew it was him.

You turned to face him, trying to commit every detail to memory. He was a conventionally attractive man with lighter hair and a smile that you would have swooned over under any other circumstance. He wore a white polo and jeans and drove a two-door black convertible with the top down.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m looking for a party my buddy’s throwing, but I don’t go here.”

“I’ll say you don’t,” you chuckled as you walked closer. “Your car must cost my tuition!”

The man grinned. “You like? I could take you for a spin. But I’ll have you know; I like to go fast.”

“Mmmm, top-down, wind in my hair,”—you inched closer still, to feign some sort of interest— “but don’t you have a party you’re missing?”

“Well, if you show me where to go, maybe I’ll consider you my plus one.” He winked.

“Now, do I look like the partying type to you?” You laughed and rested your arms on his car door.

Without another word, he grabbed you by the upper arms and pulled you into the driver’s seat. You screamed at the top of your lungs. You tried to fight him from your disadvantaged position, but he was stronger, quicker. He forced you into the passenger seat as he wailed punch after punch into your jaw.

“Nice. Girls. Don’t. Scream!” he yelled. He punctuated his words with one final blow to the head. And as you drifted out of consciousness, you weren’t sure if the roof was closing above you or if the sky was turning black.

------

The sound of fireworks stirred you from your unconsciousness. Lights of reds and blues lit the night sky. You smiled at the serenity of the celebration. You didn’t want to go, but the strong hands beneath you lifted you away. You were much too tired to argue, his heartbeat lulling you to sleep. The faint words “stay with me” echoed in your mind, and if staying meant remaining in the comfort of the person who held you, you’d be content to stay there forever.

------

You woke up to blinding white lights. This must be heaven you assumed. You blinked through the searing lights and realized it wasn’t heaven at all. You were in a hospital. The sheets, the gown, the blinking monitors, and a small TV playing all clouded your senses. You reached up to rub your head, but someone was holding your hand.

Hotch moved with you, stirring him out of his strained slumber. He had pulled a chair to your bed, his head resting next to your knee. He lifted his head and looked up at you, an urgency deep within his eyes.

“How are you feeling?” He didn’t let go of your hand.

“I—uhhh—Hotch, what’s goin’ on?” You found your breathing quickening at the sound of your slurred speech, the confusion becoming too much to handle.

“You’re ok. You’re gonna be ok. The doctor said they want to keep you overnight, but the team’s on their way.”

“No, no.” You pulled your hand away. “They can’t see me like this. You can’t see me like this! I’m not put together. I—I feel like I'm gonna be sick. I can’t feel my arms. Are my hands shaking? I'm freaking out. I'm freaking out!”

Hotch all but jumped at your ramblings, his eyebrows raised in shock. Before he could answer you burst into tears.

“Hotch, I’m gonna be sick,” you said through your convulsions.

Hotch jumped up in search of a bucket. He grabbed the trashcan at the corner of the room and brought it to you just in time. Tears streamed down your face as you threw up into the trashcan. Hotch held your hair back and gently rubbed your back.

Your nausea subsided, but your panic remained. Hotch sat on the bed, pulling you into his chest. You gripped him with all your might, desperate for the shakes to go away.

“You're alright. You're safe, ok? I think the medicine is messing with you a little. Take some deep breaths for me. I need you to relax, ok?”

You tried to take breaths at the pace Hotch set. Hotch’s hand combed through your hair as he tried to soothe you. Eventually, you were able to cool off. Hotch gently rested you back on your pillow. “Why don’t we go back to sleep for a little, ok? I think you’ll feel better when you wake up.”

You nodded, your face still wet from the tears. You repositioned yourself and fell asleep within moments.

When you woke up again, your mind was your own. Your head was pounding, and your body ached. You allowed yourself to adjust to your environment before searching for Hotch. There he sat by your bed, talking to a nurse. You cleared your throat effortfully. Hotch stood and approached you.

“How are you?”

“Everything hurts.”

“They’re giving you ibuprofen now. It seems like you were reacting to the morphine poorly.”

“That’s embarrassing.”

“Not at all,” Hotch said seriously. “Do you remember what I told you? That they want to keep you overnight?”

“That does ring a bell,” you said as you rubbed your head. “Is the team here?”

“They are. I told them to wait outside until you were ready.”

“Oh, ok.” You thought for a moment. “Hotch?”

“Yes?”

“Can—Can you tell me what happened? Like, did we win? Is everyone ok?”

Hotch chuckled, but his eyes appeared sad. “Everyone is fine. We got him. Are you sure you want to talk about this now? Why don’t we wait until you—”

“Hotch. Please.”

Hotch sighed and took a moment to think. “Well, we knew we were looking for an expensive convertible thanks to you.” He smiled. “So, we began our search as you spoke. But then, we all heard you scream.”

You flinched at the word, your memory of the gruesome event beginning to reassemble.

“Of course, it was full speed at that point. He had you, and we weren’t going to lose you. We cornered him on a dead-end road just outside of campus. We didn’t let him get far. Prentiss shot out one of his tires, so he started running. Prentiss and Morgan ran for him, and I ran to you.”

He paused. He looked away as his bottom lip trembled. He took a deep breath in as he settled into his natural professionalism again.

“We had EMT on standby, so we were able to get here quickly.”

You nodded, realizing it was Hotch who carried you out. The fireworks, the lights, the “stay with me”, the reality of it all crashed in on you in the form of a shudder.

“It was you?” you asked.

Hotch knit his eyebrows together and tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“You pulled me out. I felt you. I think I heard you.”

“Someone had to make sure you were ok.”

The fact that it was Hotch warmed your heart. Still, a question lingered in your mind. “Is he still alive?”

Hotch shook his head no.

“Mm,” was all you could say in response. There was no room for emotion. No time to process an opinion. You were just glad it was over. “What time is it?”

Hotch checked his watch. “It’s 2:43.”

“In the morning? Sir, with all good intentions, go to bed. Go tell the team to—”

Just behind Hotch, you caught a glimpse of Spencer in the doorway. “Is now a good time?” he asked.

You smiled and nodded. Spencer peeked his head back out and in a loud whisper said, “It’s clear! Go, go, go!”

The rest of the team hustled into the room and crowded around your bed. One by one, greetings and gentle hugs made their rounds, and your smile grew bigger and bigger.

“It’s a party now,” you said, a giggle bubbling out of your throat.

“Oh, she’s got the right idea,” JJ said as she sat close to you on the bed. She carefully moved a strand of hair from your face.

Prentiss laughed. “All we need now is some good music, a dance floor, and some drinks.”

The room filled with a few laughs and overall agreement.

“Too bad you all aren’t even supposed to be here,” Hotch said, slightly scolding the team. “It’s probably time for you all to call it a night.”

“Aw, Hotch, just a few minutes?” Garcia asked.

“We’ll be quiet!” Reid said.

Everyone looked at Hotch expectantly. You looked around at your teammates. They all were begging for a couple more minutes with you. That alone allowed your pain to subside.

Hotch sighed. “Just a couple more minutes.” A small smile formed on his face.

Everyone crowded around the bed, content murmurs and chatter filling the room again.

“Now be honest, guys. How bad do I look?” You shot them all a cheesy smile to sell it.

A few of them chuckled at your antics.

“I think you’ll be back to dating in no time,” Prentiss joked. “Guys love a badass scar.”

“Yeah, ’cause she was dating before,” JJ teased as she played with your hair.

“Shut up!” you giggled, coughing a little.

“I’ll get you water.” Hotch shot up and walked off.

“I’ll go with him,” Rossi said, sighing.

A seriousness enveloped the room. Derek was the first to speak up. “You know, you really scared us today, kiddo. Not to get all big brother on you, but it was tough seeing Hotch carrying you like that. Just limp.”

“And imagine how Hotch must have felt,” Reid said.

You looked up at him. “What do you mean?”

Just then Hotch and Rossi returned with your water.

“Drink,” he said, his arm outstretched. You grabbed the water from him, your fingers overlapping his. The memory of his hands shot through your spine. His frantic begging for you to stay with him, much more panicked than you remembered the phrase.

Imagine how Hotch must have felt.

“It’s getting late,” Rossi said.

The rest of the team grumbled and said their goodbyes. Hotch allowed the rest of the team to go, lingering in the room with you.

“If you need me to stay, I’d be happy to do so.”

“You need sleep, sir.”

“I’ll sleep on the plane,” he said as if it was nothing to him. “If you don’t think you’ll need me, I can let you be. We can be here early to pick you up.”

You thought for a moment. You didn’t want him to go, just in case. “Would you be willing to stay?”

“It’s why I offered.”

You felt your lip begin to tremble, the brave face for the rest of the team beginning to fade. “Hotch?”

“What can I do?”

“Well, I just… Can I use your phone? I think my mom should know I’m alright.”

“Of course.” He handed you his phone. “I’ll wait right outside for you.”

When the phone call was finished, Hotch returned and sat down in the chair.

“If you’re going to stay, I at least want you comfortable,” you said.

“The chair is fine,” Hotch said, taking his coat off for the first time today. “Get some sleep.”

You scooted to the side of your bed. “Here. At least sit up here where there’s some cushion.”

He didn’t respond right away. You knew you could convince him.

“I promise I’ll sleep,” you continued. “I’d be up worrying about your discomfort otherwise.”

Hotch sighed and stood up. “Only because I want you to sleep.”

He sat in the space you made for him at your feet. He stretched his legs alongside yours and rested his back against the footboard of the hospital bed.

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you curled up on your side. The comfort in knowing that he was there to take care of you was enough to send you off to sleep in minutes.

“Goodnight, Hotch.”

“Goodnight.”

------

You woke up to something you had never seen before. Hotch was asleep at the foot of your bed, resting his head against your shins. A hand was placed just below your knee as if he planned to protect you in his sleep. It was the most peaceful you had ever seen him. He didn’t look cross or serious. He was calm and relaxed. You smiled to yourself. You had to fight the urge to return his touch. You knew the moment he woke up he’d return to his professional senses, and you weren’t quite ready for this moment to be over.

The doctor walked in to check on you, stirring him awake, anyway.

“I’m clearing you. Take these twice a day. Your jaw is going to be sore for a couple weeks, so work up to crunchy and chewy foods. And please, no strenuous activity for at least a full week.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you said, taking the bottle of pills.

“Thank you,” Hotch said. He stood up from your bed as the doctor left. He threw his jacket on and fixed his hair in the window’s reflection.

You sat up and swung your legs off the bed. Hotch spun around and met you at your side.

“How can I help?”

You chuckled. “I think I can stand on my own.”

His eyes shared signs of concern and disbelief. Still, he took a small step back and allowed you to gather your bearings. Standing on your own, you closed the small gap between you. You began to become painstakingly aware of your attire being only a hospital gown and rubber socks.

“You got it?” Hotch asked, his arms out like you were a baby taking your first steps.

“Mmhmm,” you said. “Are my clothes here?”

“Yes, let me grab them for you.” He rushed to the corner of the room where your clothes had been neatly folded, including his sweater. He handed them all to you, his hands brushing against yours. Your heart fluttered in your chest as he stood over you. You looked up at him. His eyes returned your gaze, though you weren’t able to read him. His chest rose and fell as if his breathing was slow and deliberate.

“I’m going to call the team,” Hotch said, his voice low. “Do you—do you need help with anything before I do?”

All you could do was shake your head no on instinct, your eyes not leaving his. He stayed still. His eyes scanned you like he was contemplating something. He backed up carefully and pulled his phone from his coat pocket.

“Wait,” you said.

He froze.

You felt your face redden as you worked up the courage to continue. “Could—could you untie the top for me? My shoulder—”

“You don’t have to explain,” he said softly as he inched forward again. “Turn around.”

You did as you were told. He brushed your hair over your shoulder and began to work on the knot. His calloused fingers feathered your skin. His warm breath betrayed you as chills ran down your spine. He untied the knot, allowing cool air to reach the back of your now-open gown. Hotch turned to leave.

“Be careful,” he said at the door. “If you need me, knock on the glass.”

You nodded.

He closed the door behind him, leaving you alone.

------

The drive from the hospital to the hotel rendered the air stale. Hotch had insisted on helping you out of the hospital and into the car. But he didn’t speak. He drove while you sat in the back seat. Every once in a while, you’d catch him checking on you in the rear-view mirror, only to direct his attention back to the road.

When you returned to the hotel, Hotch stopped you from leaving the car.

“I’ll grab your things. You stay here.”

“I can get my things just fine.”

“Your bag is heavy. Doctor’s orders. No strenuous activity. Stay here.”

You huffed and sat back in your seat as Hotch closed the door for you.

The plane ride was the same: silent. Hotch sat opposite you as if he refused to allow you to leave his sight. But he kept to himself all the same. The others rested or played their card games, but you stayed put, almost waiting for Hotch to make his next move. He didn’t speak the entire flight.

Upon your return, Hotch dismissed the rest of the team.

“Thank you for the hard work this weekend. Rest up, and I will see you all Monday.”

You all headed out to leave, but Hotch stopped you. “Let me take you home,” he said.

You sighed. “Is driving a strenuous task now?”

“It’s late, and I’m not asking,” he said, returning your attitude.

You followed him to his car. He carried both his and your bag and placed them in the backseat before joining you up front.

Again, not a word was spoken between the two of you. You felt your blood boiling beneath your skin. It was as if the trip never happened, as if the distance between you never closed. The babying was the worst of all. You were sure he was seeing you as the rest of the team did now, incapable, fragile, only a child.

Hotch walked you up to your apartment. He waited for you to open your door, placing your bag directly inside.

“Well,” you began, “I guess I’ll see you Monday.”

He stood in your doorway for a moment, something on his mind. “Are you sure you’re ok? Is there anything else you think you may need before I go?”

“Hotch, what is all this?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

You tried to maintain your sanity, but the anger had bubbled into your throat. “All this, this, this coddling! You’re treating me like I’m fragile or, or useless!”

“Do I have to remind you that you were in the hospital this morning?” Hotch asked, aggravation coating his throat.

“I don’t need this from you, too, ok? The rest of them, I can take it, but you were different! I thought you were different.”

Hotch closed the door behind him and crossed his arms. “What are you talking about?”

“Have you not noticed that all of them treat me like I’m a child? Derek literally calls me kiddo, and the girls act like I’m some innocent girl fresh out of high school. Reid and JJ are five years older than me. That’s it! Rossi, forget it. I’m like a grandchild to him at this point. But you, you never belittled me. So, what is this? Did I fail you? I’d rather you just tell me than refuse to speak to me.”

“I – you didn’t fail me. How could you think that?”

“You couldn’t even look at me after the hospital.”

Hotch’s face turned a light shade of pink, his eyes leaving yours for only a moment. “We were successful because of you. But you got hurt. I just want to make sure you’re ok. That’s all.”

You thought for a moment, still not satisfied with his answer. “Then why didn’t you talk to me? I thought we were—I thought maybe there was something—”

“Please,” Hotch interrupted, “don’t say anything you might regret.” He took a step back.

“Are you saying I’m imagining this? That I imagined this morning?”

“No, no, no. We’re not doing this.”

“The coffee, the book put away neatly,”

“I would do that for anyone.”

“What about when you stormed out yesterday? When we were going over the file on your bed.” Your voice started to shake.

“That’s when I—I realized we had to use you.” He looked down, almost ashamed.

Your heart pounded in your chest, fear that you’ve outed yourself and maybe you were more delusional than you thought.

“This morning…” you said.

“You asked for my help, and I helped you. Just like I’m happy to do for you now if you need. Look, it’s late, and you’ve gone through a lot.”

“Then what did Reid mean?”

Hotch looked back up at you. He looked nervous, something you may have never seen in his eyes before. “What do you mean?”

“He said imagine how you must have felt when you found me. What did he mean by that if it doesn’t mean you care about me?”

“Of course, I care about you!” he exclaimed, moving closer to you. “I almost lost you! And when I found you, I thought you were gone. You were lifeless. So, forgive me for wanting to be careful with you, because I refuse to let that happen again. I refuse to lose you again.”

You looked at him in shock.

He sighed. “I shouldn’t have said any of this. Listen, the only reason you’re feeling anything for me is because it’s me you woke up to. Nothing more. If Reid or Morgan found you, the same thing would happen with them.”

“Do not chalk this up to some damsel in distress situation,” you said a little too boldly. “The whole team knows I have a thing for you.”

Now Hotch was in shock. He shook his head. “It’s not me you want.”

“You don’t know what I want.”

“I know you’re desperate for romance in your life because you either don’t make time for it in real life or were burned so bad in the past, that you gave it up entirely.”

“Hotch, don’t you dare profile me right now.”

“I know you have a rocky relationship with men in general, rooted in your relationship with your father.”

“Stop it, now.”

“You refuse to associate with him in any way. You don’t even allow us to call you by your last name. He views you differently from your sisters for some reason, and you hate him for it.”

“Hotch, I swear to god—”

“You mocked him for giving good advice, and you flinched when I brought up getting beers with him. He’s an alcoholic, isn’t he?”

“So, what, honestly? Literally who cares if he drinks? He gets mean, so what? What gives you the right to tell me what I can and cannot have?”

“But he’s not just mean, is he?”

The air in your lungs got caught in your throat.

“That’s it, isn’t it? That’s how he treats you differently.”

“That’s enough,” you said, your voice cold.

Hotch stepped closer, grabbing your shoulders with both hands. You shuddered in his grasp. “You don’t want me, ok? I can’t fix what you’ve gone through. I can’t even protect you at work. Do you know the guilt I feel for what happened to you? I’m the one who got you hurt. And now I have to live with that. What makes you think that I can be what you need if I can’t even keep you safe here?”

You closed what little space was left between you. You looked up at him, your face only inches from his. “Stop telling me what I want. I’m an adult. I can make my own choices. You’re not going to push me away like this.”

Hotch’s breath hitched in his throat. His chest heaved up and down, and his eyes darkened. “This is wrong. I’m your superior. This isn’t appropriate.”

“If you truly don’t want me, I’ll stop. We’ll go back to how things were. But you have to say you don’t want me.”

His grip on your shoulders strengthened, his touch burning into your skin. His now wild eyes scanned you as if he couldn’t have fathomed this happening. A lump formed in your throat as you waited for him to find the words. Instead, he pulled you flush against him and pressed his lips against yours. His kiss was raw and desperate, rougher than your healing jaw could take, but you couldn’t care less. He wrapped his arms around your back and gripped your hair as if it was instinctual. Your breathing hitched, causing you to moan into his mouth.

He pulled away, slightly out of breath. “I need you to tell me this is ok.”

“This is ok,” you said, breathless.

“Good,” Hotch said, “because I don’t want to stop.”

A smirk formed on your face. You grabbed a hold of his tie and pulled him closer to you. “Then I think you need to take this off.”

You dropped the tie and kissed him as he took his coat off. Your mouth wandered to his jaw. Hotch let out a groan.

“Your room. Now.”

His words sent chills down your spine. You took his hand and led him to your room. You turned around and watched Hotch remove his tie, sliding it through his collar. His eyes stayed on yours, his already dark eyes now almost black with desire. The moment his tie came off, he was back on you, kissing you like his life depended on it. His hands wandered to your ass and lifted you up, his lips never leaving your skin. You wrapped your legs around him as he carried you to your bed.

Hotch laid you down, now hovering over you. His lips drifted from yours down to your neck.

“Seeing you in this had me thinking horrible things,” Hotch confessed, slightly pulling on the quarter zip you were still wearing.

You blushed. “Really?” you asked, a smug smile growing on your face. “Is that why you were avoiding me?”

“Was it really that obvious?” Hotch asked, his large hands finding their way under your shirt.

You couldn’t even answer as his hands ventured up to your chest. His hands pulled a moan from your mouth.

“Take this off,” Hotch said as he pulled the hem of your shirt.

“You, first.”

Hotch’s eyebrows raised as if surprised by your reply. He sat up and unbuttoned his shirt. You practically drooled at the sight of him shirtless. You could only assume he was fit when he rolled up his sleeves or manhandled unsubs, but this was all the confirmation you needed.

“Your turn,” he said.

You did as you were told, revealing yourself to him.

“God, you’re perfect,” he sighed as he kissed your chest.

You fought off a moan. You couldn’t believe this was happening. This was only something you pictured in your wildest dreams, and here he was in the flesh.

“I wanted this for so long,” you found yourself saying out loud.

“Me, too,” he agreed. “You have no idea how much I thought about this.”

Your cheeks flushed red. He began leaving marks past your breasts, down your stomach to the hem of your shorts.

“Can I take these off?” Hotch asked.

You nodded.

“Use your words, honey.”

Your stomach did a flip hearing the phrase. “Yes, sir. Take them off.”

He all but growled in response. He pulled at your shorts, taking them off in a swift motion.

“So much for no strenuous activities,” you joked.

“I can be gentle,” Hotch said as he settled in between your legs. “Let me take care of you.”

Your head fell back onto your pillow. You knew you were in for it.

Hotch spread your legs apart, the stretch enough for you to arch into his touch.

A smirk graced his lips, and without another word, he licked into your core. His mouth against you was like a gift from God, something you had only hoped could feel so good. You couldn’t help but squirm against him, grabbing his hair to pull him closer, if at all possible. He placed a hand on your stomach to keep you still. You could feel him smile against you, turning you on even more.

“Hotch,” you breathed out. You were close faster than you had ever been.

“Say my name,” he said as he placed a finger inside you.

“A-Aaron,” you choked out, the new sensation too much to handle. He filled you with another finger, his hitting the spot your fingers never could.

“Fuck, Aaron, don’t stop. Please.” Your breathing quickened, and as he pumped his fingers in and out, you felt the coil in your stomach snap, expletives and his name leaving your lips. Hotch continued to pump you as you rode your high, a daze overtaking you.

When you caught your breath, you pulled Hotch back up for a kiss, your hands finding their way to his belt.

Hotch’s hands stopped yours. You looked up at him, confused.

“Are you sure you want this?” He asked, genuine concern lacing his voice.

“I want this if you do. Do you?” you asked.

“I really do,” he said. “I need to feel you.”  

You couldn’t help but smile at his words. “Then please let me help you.”

He released your hands and kissed your forehead as you unbuckled his belt. The moment felt ironically wholesome until you pulled at his dress pants. You couldn’t help but gawk at his cock springing free. You were suddenly nervous, not quite sure it would fit after all this time practically revirginizing. If your jaw weren’t so sore, you’d have him in your mouth without a second thought.

“I’ll be gentle, I promise,” he said as if he could hear your thoughts. “I don’t want to hurt you.” Hotch hovered over you and kissed your lips softly. You returned the kiss and nodded.

Hotch lined himself up with your entrance and carefully pushed in. He and you both groaned at the sensation, the stretch of him filling you something you hadn’t experienced in years.

“Jesus Christ. You’re so, this isn’t your first time, is it?”

“No, no,” you said, slightly embarrassed. “It’s just been a while. Just, just go slow, ok?”

Hotch nodded and started to move. He rested his forehead on yours, sighs and pants escaping both of your lips.

“Can I kiss you?” Hotch asked.

You chuckled at his question. “We’re a little past that, aren’t we?”

Hotch smiled as he placed his lips on yours, much more tender than before. He moved a stray hair from your face and cupped your cheek with the utmost gentility. The urgency was gone, replaced by something deeper. Everything had culminated to this moment, and neither of you wanted to waste it.

Still, the need for more overtook you. “Aaron,” you said, your hips bucking up into his.

“What do you need? I need you to tell me.”

“Faster, please,” you said.

His pace quickened, one hand still around you. He used the other to stabilize himself, allowing you to view the tension in his muscles. You bit back a moan as the pressure inside you built.

“Don’t hold back,” Hotch said. “Let me hear you.”

He slammed into you, a smirk growing on his face as your breath caught in your throat.

“Just like that!” you blurted out.

He did just that, slamming into you again and again.

“Fuck. I don’t know how much longer I can last,” Hotch said, his voice almost shaking.

“I’m close, too. Please don’t stop,” you begged.

He pounded into you harder and faster, no longer a rhythm but a motive, a goal to achieve.

“Come for me, honey. I’ve got you. Just come for me.”

You clenched around him as you came, all but screaming his name. His pace didn’t let up as you rode your orgasm, your legs trembling around him.

“Oh, god. I’m gonna, where do I—”

“Chest!”

He pulled out and came on your chest, making the most attractive groans you had ever heard in your life. You watched in awe, absolute shock overtaking you. Never in your wildest dreams did you picture this. And for the love of god, you hoped this wasn’t the last time this happened.

Hotch crawled over you, still catching his breath, and captured your lips in a kiss.

“How are you feeling?” Hotch asked. “Is your head ok?”

“I’m good,” you said smiling at his return to his overprotective self. “I’m really good. I promise.”

Hotch rested his forehead on yours then kissed you, the tenderness returning.

“I like when you do that,” you said, your cheeks reddening.

“Me, too,” he said. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“You don’t have to help, if you don’t want to.”

“What, and miss showering with you?” Hotch smiled. “Just lead the way.”

In the shower, the two of you washed up, and you couldn’t knock the smile from your face if you tried, until you thought about showing up to work Monday morning.

“What are you thinking about?” Hotch asked.

“The team’s gonna know,” you said.

Hotch thought for a moment. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. For now, well, I wouldn’t have done it in this order, but would you like to join me for dinner tomorrow evening?”

You blushed, despite the state you were both in. “Are you asking me on a date?”

Hotch smiled. “I’m asking you on a date, yes. I have to be honest, though, I’m out of practice.”

“If tonight was you out of practice, I think tomorrow will go just fine.”

Hotch laughed and kissed you again, something you hoped would never fade in your memory.

************

ForeversTaglist:

@lizziedizzie3 @heavennleeee-blog @hunterswearingplaid @thisismysecrethappyplace @geekinator9 @ronnie248-blog @oliolioxiclean @phonegalhelp @because-you-never-know-when @roonyxx @keithseabrook27 @ericaprice2008 @heythereamigodude

[gravegoer]

OMG sevika x reader who fills in for silco after he dies?? 🤍 but sevika is oddly shocked at her kindness—

Sevika's boss ꩜

i absolutely love this idea ! sevika pledging her loyalty to you whilst you pledge yours to her !! so this is how you met + how you treat her on the job.. and off (i fear silco didnt provide a safe work environment)

visit my masterlist HERE , part 2

Zaun needed a new leader, and you just so happened to be the second in line to the throne.

You had the option to throw Sevika out if you really wanted a different right hand man. But in your opinion, if she worked for SIlco; she would work for you.

You'd never met her before, only heard the things that Zaunites whispered about her on the street

" She took on three men at the last drop yesterday. I think Silco put her up to it. "

" The way she looked at me made me think I was going to meet my end. "

Silco was no gentle ruler, he was strong and fierce. You could only imagine how he treated his goons, and and only Gods know how he treated Sevika.

You sat in his office chair, displeased with the scattered papers on his desk and the old whiskey in a glass that now smelled rank.

You had called her in to have a chat, so that you knew who you were really working with. Not knowing what to expect; you watched as the door creaked open and you nervously drew in a quick breath.

In walked a tall woman, definitely over 6', obviously muscular with one prosthetic arm. Your eyes traveled up to her face, and now you knew why everyone talked about her gaze. It was steely and almost frightening. She looked you up and down with something in her eyes that you couldn't place. Her skin was littered with scars, the biggest one was smack dab across her cheek. How intimidating.

You spoke to her, firmly but gently, "As you know, I'm taking over for Silco until things can be.. sorted out-"

She cut you off with a brisk, "Get to the point."

You eyed her full lips as she said this, the gap between her teeth was more prominent when she spoke. Not to mention her husky voice, she sounded tired but with still a hint of determination.

"I'm not demoting you or anything, just so you know," you spoke while raising an eyebrow at her, "I just wanted to get to know you before I start ordering you around, y'know?"

She narrowed her eyes at this statement. Its obvious she expected you to immediately ask her to do things for you the way she did for her former boss. Always running around the city cleaning up his mess, fighting his battles. But no. You weren't Silco. There was something different in the air around you.

Now that you've officially met its time to put this girl to work !!

She was almost always available. This concerned you. If you asked for her presence she would be there within minutes. It was like she was waiting for you at the door 24/7.

This made you bring up off days to her, "You know, if you ever need time off or anything don't hesitate to ask me. I don't bite"

She was confused at your willingness to let her do nothing but sit around while you did the work. And even after you said this she never asked to be called off.

"Okay, you know what. If you're injured after a mission don't even think. About trying to leave your house," You called her in to run some errands but what she didn't tell you is that she got stabbed roughly in her side the night before.

This made her angry, did you think she was weak? You're making her take a break because she didn't do her job good enough for you? Trying to cut her pay by putting her out of work?

But no, surprisingly in the next few days you sent her out again, and when she came back you slid a hefty bag of coins her way. She questioned your ways but she wasn't complaining.

You tried never ask absurd or unnecessary things of her. If you needed to talk with someone in the city you would go down and do it yourself. She caught you out one day, talking to a shop owner about prices.

"Why the hell are you out without me."

You turned around to meet her eyes (also having to crain your neck to look up at her.) "Well, I don't need a body guard to walk around you know that right?" You said, tilting your head to the side.

She drug her hand over her face at this, "You could have asked me to do it for you, I'm free. Plus don't you know anyone could be trying to get at you? Are you an idiot?"

"I can handle myself Sevika. But if you're soo worried about me ill let you come next time," You teased before turning around to speak to the owner again.

She grumbled to herself before taking a seat in one of the old chairs behind you and crossing her arms. If you didn't know any better you would think a small embarrassed blush kissed her cheeks.

When you walked around in the streets with you she always walked behind you, looming over your shoulder. Sometimes you thought she would start barking if anyone came up to you. You slowed down a bit to match her pace before latching onto her arm.

Her body tensed at your touched and she looked down at you, though you didn't meet her gaze as you continued looking forward. The neon lights illuminating the angles of your face. She shook her head at your willingness to touch her, but didn't comment on it.

You felt the flex of her bicep when she tensed up at your fingers. Her arm was hot under your touch and you could feel the scars that littered her skin.

This became routine, when Sevika walked you home late at night she would get comfortable enough to drape her arm around your shoulder, her poncho sheltering you from the cold.

And yes, she started walking you home at night because she stayed in your office to keep you company whilst you did paperwork into the late hours. Saying, "Its the least I could do since you don't let me do it for you."

Lighting a cigarillo she sat on the couch, putting her feet up on the coffee table. The smoke wafted from her position to your nose, the smell oddly comforting.

When you groaned and dropped your head into your hands it was her queue to get up and pull your chair out from your desk.

"Its too late, you should get home."

Sometimes you'd fall asleep in at your desk, but this was no problem. Sevika would pick you up, gently as to not disturb you and carry you to your home. And she was careful to walk through quieter places in the city so that the hustle and bustle of people didn't wake you.

And yes she tucks you in.

If you really insisted on staying to do paperwork she would grumble a few curses but stay anyway.

You were starting to grow on her. Maybe being cuter than Silco gave you some brownie points.

thank you for reading ! if you sent an ask in the past few days, don't worry, I'm getting to them all :) I appreciate all the support !! ♡♡

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　TIKTOK TRENDS | PART 5

SUMMARY: 4 times that Y/N and Matt made a couple's trend on tiktok.

WARNING: Kissing (?).

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anons.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

1. We listen, and we don't judge

Y/N's phone was set up, angled perfectly to capture herself and Matt sitting in front of Matt's computer desk in their room, with his arm lazily draped over Y/N’s shoulder, caressing her covered skin.

"Alright, people, welcome back. We’re doing the 'We Listen and We Don’t Judge' trend because, apparently, you guys are crazy to see us admitting some things." Y/N starts, glancing at Matt, who’s watching her through her phone screen with a small smile decorating his features. "Keyword: don’t judge, okay?" She emphasizes, holding up a finger to his face. "I know how you get."

"I’m the least judgmental person, you know." Matt counters, looking directly at her, smirking. "Ladies first."

Y/N looks at the camera dramatically, as if preparing for a confession of a lifetime.

"Okay... so... I’ve been lying about being afraid to get my driver’s license-"

Matt’s jaw drops in faux shock.

"What?!"

"Wait, wait, wait." She quickly holds up her hand. "I say I’m scared, but I’m really not. I just don’t want to drive because I love it when you drive me everywhere so I can be your passenger princess."

Matt covers his face with both hands, groaning.

"Y/N! Are you serious right now?" His voice sounds muffled by his palms.

"Yes!" She giggles. "Because I know you’ll always do it. Even if it's the middle of the night."

He shakes his head, clearly trying not to smile.

"Can't believe I have a second Chris in my life... We listen, and we don’t judge, I guess." He rolls his eyes at her playfully.

"Hey! Don't compare me to Christop-"

"Shh, it's my turn now." Matt straightens up. "Sometimes, when I’m separating our clothes for laundry..." He pauses dramatically.

Y/N narrows her eyes at him.

"What?"

"I... smell your panties to check if they’re, like, really dirty."

Her mouth falls open.

"MATT!"

"What?!" He exclaims defensively. "We listen, and we don’t judge, remember?"

"That’s not listening. That’s borderline psychotic!" She laughs, smacking his arm.

"It’s efficient!" He insists, laughing along with her. "And they always smell good, by the way."

"Okay, okay. That's what intimacy and three years living together do to you, guys." She says, sighing dramatically. "My turn again." Y/N leans forward conspiratorially, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Sometimes, especially during the winter, when there are dirty dishes in the sink, I pretend not to see them, so you’ll wash them."

Matt throws his head back in exaggerated disbelief.

"Are you kidding me?! You make me wash dishes all the time purposefully, then?"

"We listen, and we don’t judge!" She says quickly, pointing at him.

"Y/N, I knew it! I’d be like, 'How did she miss that giant pile of plates?', because I know that Chris doesn't wash his for anything in this world and Nick is cleaner than that."

"It’s selective blindness." She admits, shrugging innocently. "And don't call me dirty, asshole!"

"Unreal." He mutters, but his smile lets it be known that he isn't mad. "Okay, my turn. Remember when I went to Boston by plane alone last month, and I decided last minute I wanted you to come with me?"

Y/N nods.

"Yeah, and you surprised me with a plane ticket. It was so sweet."

"Well, the tickets were super expensive exactly because it was last minute, like a thousand dollars more than when I bought mine." Matt starts, scratching the back of his neck. "But I bought it anyway because I didn’t want us to be on separate planes. If the plane crashed, I wanted us to die together."

Y/N stares at him in shock.

"MATT. WHAT THE-"

"We listen, and we don’t judge!" He defends himself, holding up his hands.

"That is so sweet and so morbid at the same time!" She exclaims.

Matt shrugs.

"It made sense to me at the time."

Y/N takes a deep breath, clearly trying not to laugh too hard.

"Can't believe you spent more than a thousand dollars on a plane ticket to Boston." She shook her head in disbelief.

"Can't blame me for wanting to have my girl back home with me." He muttered, smiling shyly at her.

She pouts, looking at the camera with a 'Are you seeing this cuteness?' look.

"You're really sweet, you know that?" She takes his hand closer to hers, taking it to her mouth and sealing his skin with her lips. "Alright. Here’s another one. I always let you serve me my plate when I cook any meal because I know you’ll put more food on mine than yours."

Matt raises an eyebrow.

"And you call me psychotic?"

"You’re predictable!" She shoots back, grinning. "And the more food, the better."

He chuckles.

"Fine. We listen, and we don’t judge. My turn again. When I go to take a shower and say I forgot to grab my towel..."

Y/N immediately narrows her eyes.

"Oh no. What now?"

"I didn’t actually forget it. I’m just too lazy to grab it myself, so I call you to bring it to me."

"Matthew!" She exclaims, smacking his arm again.

He laughs, unbothered.

"Hey, you bring it every time, so I figured it wasn’t a big deal."

She rolls her eyes, trying not to laugh.

"Of course I do! I don't want you to drip all over our bedroom." Her voice gets high-pitched. "Unbelievable." Y/N takes a deep breath while looking at her phone camera. "Okay, last one from me. When you go record videos with Nick and Chris out of the house, I play Fortnite on your computer."

Matt’s eyes widen.

"No way!"

"Yes way!"

"On my account?"

"Yup!"

Matt gasps, scandalized.

"You’re out here ruining my stats?"

"No! I’m good, I promise!"

He narrows his eyes at her, clearly skeptical but amused.

"Chat, she's lucky she's cute."

Y/N grins and leans against him, softly caressing his hand with her fingers.

"Your turn to end it, babe."

Matt thinks for a moment, then grins.

"Alright. Final confession. One time, you needed my help to open this sweet jar I had just bought. It was one of those really stubborn, super-sealed ones, and you couldn’t get it open no matter how hard you tried."

"So...?" Y/N pulls away from him, frowning in confusion.

"The thing is, when I got it open, you looked at me in this way that... let’s just say I felt very appreciative of my strength." He wetted his lips, trying to hide his smile.

"Matt!" She exclaimed, searching his eyes with wide ones, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks.

"Wait, wait, it gets better!" He said, waving her off. "So later, I went back to that sweet jar and tightened it as hard as I possibly could just so you'd have to ask me for help again."

Y/N mouth open in disbelief.

"You did not."

"Oh, I absolutely did." He said proudly, his grin stretching from ear to ear. "And it worked! Next day, you were struggling with it again, and there I was, showing up to save your day."

Y/N swatted his arm, though she couldn’t help but laugh.

"You’re the worst! I can’t believe you manipulated me with a sweet jar."

"It’s called strategy, babe." He said, dodging her playful hits. "And you totally fell for it."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

2. A boy who's jacked and kind

The soft hum of Sabrina's song filled the room as Y/N set her phone up on the dresser, already recording, before standing in front of Matt, a sweet smile tugging at her lips as she looked into the front camera. Her hands rested loosely at her sides, and her bright expression mirrored the expectation to finally do the TikTok trend.

Behind her, Matt stood tall, his brown hair slightly messy decorating his straight face. His posture was casual, hands resting on his hips, as he waited for the right moment.

As the verse "A boy who’s jacked and kind” began to play, Matt immediately lowered himself behind her, bending slightly to grab Y/N by her thighs. The motion was swift but careful, his hands wrapping securely around her legs just above her knees. Without breaking a sweat, he hoisted her into the air, lifting her as though she weighed nothing.

Y/N let out a loud, surprised laugh, but it didn’t break her radiant smile to the phone. She reached down instinctively to hold onto his shoulder, her fingers brushing the collar of his pink shirt for stability.

Matt straightened up, effortlessly placing her on his right shoulder. His grip on her thighs was firm yet gentle, ensuring she wouldn’t lose her balance. With Y/N sitting comfortably on him, Matt turned his attention back to the front camera.

Grinning brightly, he flexed his left bicep exaggeratedly, his arm bulging just enough to make the flex appear, a contrast to his lean frame.

The two of them looked like they were in Disneyland, their expressions full of joy. Matt’s smile stretched wide, his boyish expression evident as he proudly held Y/N on his shoulder. Meanwhile, Y/N’s laughter was silent as she leaned forward slightly, her cheeks flushing with amusement.

When posted, Y/N made sure to put the caption as: those push-ups are really getting him somewhere.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

3. Being rude to my triplet's girlfriend to see his reaction

The phone was already recording when the Crumbl Cookies were neatly arranged on the wooden table. The pastel pink box was opened, revealing an assortment of cookies that looked almost too pretty to eat. Y/N sat between Matt and Chris, her eyes wide with excitement as she leaned closer to it. Nick stood opposite them, fiddling with his phone to adjust the camera angle.

"This is so cute." Y/N said, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm. "I can’t believe I’m finally doing a Crumbl Cookie review with you guys!"

Matt smiled at her, his hand naturally finding its place on her knee beneath the table.

"You'll love the lemon one." He said, his tone warm and encouraging.

Chris and Nick exchanged a quick glance, their smirks barely concealed. They had planned this little prank earlier that morning, where they would pretend to be rude to Matt's girlfriend just to see his reaction. Y/N was in on it, of course, and she’d been surprisingly eager to play along.

"Alright, let’s get this over with." Nick said, his tone sharp as he rolled his eyes dramatically, sitting by Chris's side. "Can we just start? I don’t want to sit here all day."

Y/N blinked, her smile faltering just slightly.

"Oh, um, okay..." She said softly, glancing at Matt, who immediately noticed the change in her tone.

"What’s the rush?" Matt asked, narrowing his eyes at Nick.

"Yeah, Nick." Chris chimed in, turning slightly so he could look into Nick's eyes. "Not like this is going to be a life-changing experience or anything. It’s just cookies."

Y/N bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, her hand fidgeting with her napkin.

"I mean, I’m just really excited." She said, her voice quieter now, playing her part. "I've seen you guys do this when you went back to Boston, and I really wanted to do it too."

Matt’s jaw tensed as he looked between his brothers.

"What the fuck is wrong with you two? You both like some of those."

Nick scoffed, picking up a cookie and taking a careless bite.

"Honestly, I don’t get the hype. They’re just cookies. We've tried all of it with Nate already. You don’t have to act like it’s a five-star restaurant or something."

Chris snorted, grabbing his own cookie and making a point to ignore Y/N entirely.

"Yeah, and she hasn’t even tried them yet. Bet she’s gonna overreact or something."

Matt’s hand left Y/N’s knee as he sat up straighter, his protective instincts kicking in.

"What the fuck are you guys on about?" He snapped, his voice sharper now. "Why are you being such assholes?"

Y/N pretended to shrink in her seat, her lips pressing together as if she were holding back tears. Matt noticed immediately and turned his full attention to her.

"Babe, hey." He said softly while his hands found hers, squeezing her fingers, his voice and act a stark contrast to the anger he’d just directed at his brothers. "Don’t listen to them, okay? They’re just being idiots. We can eat all of it if you want to."

Y/N nodded, her eyes wide as she tried to maintain her act.

"I just... I was really excited, but maybe it’s not a big deal. We can do another-"

"No, it is a big deal." Matt said firmly, his gaze flicking back to Nick and Chris with a glare that could melt ice. "What are you two on about? She’s excited about this, and you’re just shitting on it for no reason."

Chris held up his hands in mock surrender.

"Alright, chill, Matt. It’s not that serious."

Matt’s eyes narrowed, his voice rising.

"Not that serious? Are you fucking kidding me? You’re being rude as hell to my girlfriend. How is that not serious?"

Nick laughed nervously, clearly trying to stay in character but faltering under Matt’s hard stare.

"We’re just saying it’s not a big deal. No need to get all worked up."

Matt scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief.

"You’re unbelievable. Seriously, what’s wrong with you? Do you not know how to treat people with respect?"

Y/N placed a gentle hand on Matt’s arm, trying to calm him down.

"Matt, it’s okay..."

"No, it’s not okay." He said, his voice softening as he looked at her but still laced with frustration. "You don’t deserve to be treated like this, especially not by them." He pointed at his brothers with disdain. "You two can get out of here if it's so hard to eat cookies, and-"

Chris finally cracked, unable to hold back his laughter any longer, interrupting the middle triplet.

"Okay, okay, stop. Matt, it’s a joke!"

Nick followed suit, laughing as he raised his hands defensively.

"Yeah, it’s a TikTok trend! We were just messing with you to see how you’d react."

Matt froze, his brows furrowing as he processed their words.

"A trend?"

Y/N bit her lip, finally breaking character as she let out a soft laugh.

"Yeah... I knew about it. I’m sorry, babe, but we wanted to see how you’d feel in this situation."

Matt’s expression shifted from anger to disbelief as he leaned back in his chair.

"You’re kidding me."

Chris grinned, still laughing.

"Dude, you were ready to kill us. You’re such a good boyfriend. It’s actually insane."

"You guys are fucking idiots." Matt ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head with a mix of exasperation and amusement. "I'm going to bed. C'mon, Y/N."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

4. Rating kisses

The warm glow of fairy lights lit up the cozy bedroom as Y/N adjusted her phone on her right hand, Matt's fingers brushing against her thigh as she settled by his side on the edge of the bed.

"So." Y/N began. "This filter gives us ten different types of kisses, and we have to rate each one of them."

Matr tilted her head, smirking.

"And this is your excuse to receive ten kisses from me in one sitting?"

Y/N gasped dramatically, her hand flying to her chest.

"Excuse me? This is for science! We are conducting a very serious experiment here."

Matt rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his smile.

"Fine. Let’s see how you do, Ms. Science."

She hit the screen, and the filter started spinning before landing on the first kiss: Cheek Kiss.

Matt leaned closer, cupping her face with one hand as he pressed a soft, warm kiss to her cheek, lingering just long enough to make her blush. He pulled back, a smug look on his face.

"Well?" He prompted, his eyebrows wiggling jokingly.

"Hmm... I’ll give it a 2." She shrugged, biting back a grin when seeing his reaction to her saying. "It was nice, but we’ve got nine more to go. Gotta leave room for improvement."

Matt muttered something under his breath about "ungrateful test subjects", but the filter moved on to the next kiss: Neck Kiss.

Y/N’s lips curved into a large grin, and her cheeks turned pink.

"Don’t make this weird, Matthew."

"Oh, I would never." He said, his voice dripping with mock innocence.

He scooted closer, gently brushing her hair aside. His lips brushed against the curve of her neck, soft and slow, sending a shiver down her spine. She let out an involuntary squeak, his warm breath tickling her skin, and Matt pulled back with a satisfied smile.

"Okay." She said, trying to compose herself. "That’s a 3."

"Damn right it is." He said, leaning back triumphantly.

The next kiss popped up: Forehead Kiss.

Matt’s expression softened immediately. He reached out, cupping her face with both hands, bending her head before leaning in to press a tender kiss to her forehead. It wasn’t rushed or playful, just sweet and sincere, filled with affection.

Y/N closed her eyes for a moment, her heart melting at the gesture. When she opened them, her voice was soft.

"That’s a 4. I really love this one."

Matt smiled, his thumb brushing over her cheek.

"I do, too."

The fourth kiss was Spiderman Kiss.

Matt immediately leaned back, his head hanging on the air above the mattress, almost bending his whole spine with his hair falling around.

"Alright, let’s do this." He said, his voice muffled by his awkward position.

Y/N laughed, leaning over him and pressing an upside-down kiss to his lips, the angle making it clumsy but undeniably sweet.

They pulled apart, both laughing.

"Okay, that’s a 7." Y/N said, still giggling. "Cute, but kind of impractical."

"Agreed." Matt said, sitting back up and rubbing his aching neck.

The next kiss was Nose Kiss.

Y/N laughed softly as Matt leaned in again, rubbing their noses together in an exaggerated Eskimo kiss before pecking the tip of her nose lightly.

"You're adorable." She looked into his eyes for a second. "I’ll give it a 5."

Then came the Bite Kiss.

Matt’s grin turned mischievous.

"Now this one, I'm the best at."

"Don’t be too hard!" Y/N warned, but her voice wavered slightly. "You left a bruise on my shoulder the last time you decided that biting me was a good idea."

He ignored her comment and lifted her arm, his teeth closing around the exposed skin. He pulled back with a boyish grin not even a second later, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"It's romantic. You have to accept that." Matt rolled his eyes playfully, kissing quickly the spot he had just bitten.

"Shut up. Now, that’s a 9 just because I'm sure there's worse than that."

"Hey! There are no bad kisses around here." Matt's voice got high-pitched.

The next was Air Kiss. They both leaned back, dramatically blowing kisses at each other with exaggerated sound effects.

"That’s an 8." Y/N declared.

"Okay." Matt nodded.

The next kiss, Hand Kiss, took a more romantic turn. Matt gently took her hand in his, his thumb brushing over her knuckles before he lifted it to his lips. His kiss was slow and deliberate, his eyes locking with hers as he pulled away.

Y/N’s heart fluttered.

"Okay, kind sir, that’s a 6. Sweet, but it doesn’t beat the others."

Matt pouted.

"Tough crowd."

When Foot Kiss appeared, Y/N recoiled.

"No way. Absolutely not."

"Come on, we’ve committed this far!" Matt argued, leaning down and grabbing her bare foot before she could escape. He pressed a quick kiss to the top of it, grinning as she dissolved into laughter, kicking against his hands lightly, causing the phone to tremble.

"That’s a 10." She said through her giggles, trying to breathe in while sitting up again.

"Fair." He admitted, wiping his lips jokingly.

Finally, the last kiss appeared: Lip Kiss.

Matt’s teasing demeanor softened as he leaned in, his hand cupping her jaw and his thumb caressing her cheek. His lips met hers in a slow, lingering kiss that made the rest of the world fade away. It was gentle but filled with so much love that Y/N felt her heart swell in her chest.

When he pulled back, she looked at him with a dazed smile.

"That’s a 1. Obviously."

Matt grinned, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"How does it feel to scientifically prove I’m the best kisser ever?"

Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes to her phone camera.

"Don’t let it go to your head, King of Kisses."

"Too late." Matt said, pressing another kiss to the side of her head.

[enderlovez]

Germs

Spencer Reid x Female BAU Reader WORD COUNT: 719

Summary: Everyone is shocked when the genius germaphobe drinks directly from your water bottle, you even more so when it was actually just a plot.

Content Warning: Mentions of germs and being a germaphobe, reader has some slightly unholy thoughts, slightly suggestive at the end

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

It's just a normal day in the BAU. You're silently sitting at your desk, scanning through the paperwork from the case you and the team just closed. It was a hard one, and you had to spend close to three weeks across the country, so it's a relief to be home.

Only problem there — the case was located in Arizona, a state commonly known for being hot. So you, and everyone else, got into the habit of drinking extensive amounts of water, a habit that's surprisingly hard to kick now that you're back in Virginia.

Not to mention how it feels so much colder here now.

You shudder and pick up the water bottle you picked up from the gas station on the way here, pulling up the top and drinking deeply from it. It's not like you're even really thirsty, but you just can't help it!

"Y/N?" someone asks from behind you, making you jump and let out this embarrassing squeak. You turn spin around in your chair to find the one and only Doctor Spencer Reid, standing in front of you with his hands clasped, nervously twiddling his thumbs.

"What can I do for you, Handsome?" you ask teasingly, fighting back the goofy smile that threatens to take over your face.

Embarrassed, his face turns a delicious crimson, hands moving to clasp together behind his back. He's so freaking adorable, all you want to do is eat him sometimes.

"May I please have..." The rest of his sentence is lost in translation as his voice trails off into something you can't hear, but you're sure that no matter what he was asking, you'd give it to him in a heartbeat.

"M'sorry, what was that?" you ask, relaxing back into your chair as you observe him. He really is the prettiest boy you've ever seen, with his glasses and puppy-dog eyes. It's a miracle you can even form a , coherent sentence when he's around.

"May I please..." he starts again, pausing briefly to look around, "may I please have some of your water?"

Your eyes widen at his request, but you smile and nod nonetheless, staring at the bottle in your hands as you pass it up to him, the top already popped up.

You're not sure what you really expected him to do with it, considering Spencer Reid would never put his mouth where someone elses was, especially not when he saw it there less than a minute ago.

But here he is, drinking from your water bottle like his life depends on it. He doesn't realize just how many people are watching him — the pretty germaphobe who doesn't even like shaking hands with people — doing something as simple as drinking.

It's not the drinking that they're watching.

You're definitely not thinking about the fact that he's drinking most of your water, just about the fact that he's indirectly touching his mouth with yours, and to say you're mesmerized is an understatement.

"Thank you," he murmurs when he's finished, a guilty yet somehow mischievous glint in his eyes as he looks between the almost empty bottle and you. "I'm sorry for drinking all your water. Maybe I could take you out to dinner to make up for it?" He pauses for a second, leaning slightly forward so only you can hear him. "As a... date?"

Mouth agape, all you can do is nod as he hands the bottle back to you and makes his way back to his desk. It's entirely unprofessional for the work place, but you can't exactly make yourself care.

"Reid, you know there's a place you can get your own water, right?" Morgan questions, eyes glued to Spencer as if he'd grown a third head.

"I do," he says as he sits back down at his desk, "that just felt a whole lot cleaner."

A breath you didn't realize you were holding escapes you as you slump down into your chair like a ragdoll, looking down at the still-wet nozzle of the bottle. With your face blushing madly, your put your mouth over the very place his was barely thirty seconds and down the rest of your water.

Since when was Spencer Reid so smooth?

Since when was he interested in you?

You have to get onto that man.

[poguehearted77]

Imagine y’all just had the fight of your lives (maybe over his dumb gun or something equally Rafe), but later when you’re lying on opposite sides of the bed, he reaches out and pulls you close and says somthing cute or annoying idk And then, oh my GOD—it’s slow, emotional, and HOT because making up with Rafe would be next-level intense. please i NEEED😫😩

OH MY GOD YES. SOME SWEET RAFE AND EVEN SWEETER MAKE UP SEX AFTER A HUGE FIGHT. NEED IT.

#2 from my drabble game

smut: penetrative sex, some praise, I love you's, unprotected sex

Rafe is in deep shit.

You know that, he knows that-- hell, even your pet beagle, Poppy knew it. For once, she bolted away the moment the front door opened, and your oh-so-handsome, conniving and deceitful boyfriend walked in instead of running towards him.

Rafe is a dead man walking. How ironic would it be if he were to die at your hands with the very same gun he'd promised you he'd gotten rid of.

His body goes rigid when he sees the weapon in your palm. A nervous gulp falls down his throat as he does his best to stand tall. "Where did you get that?" That's what he asks you, he should've never opened his mouth.

You scoff immediately, carelessly angling it around as your upset mannerisms control your arms. "Get it? You mean where did I find it." He doesn't respond which is a wise choice.

"Mr. Montogommery called me earlier, he was looking for you--said you weren't answering your phone. He asked me to leave you a message," You're pacing now, and it made Rafe nervous. You're a little crazy, but so was he. It's why you went so well together.

"Like the good girlfriend I am, I opened your office drawer for a sticky note to leave on your desk, but what did I find? The same gun you told me would never be back in the house, Rafe are you serious?!" Your arms are flailing and he's half-certain he'll catch a stray by the end of the conversation.

He steps towards you with his hands up cautiously, "Baby, give me the gun, and we can talk about this." You snap, "No! Why should I? You don't trust me with it? Why because it's dangerous? Because it could kill you! You're right, Rafe. Why didn't I think of that sooner--oh wait, I did! And you fucking lied to me, Rafe."

Your voice is enraged and bouncing off the ivory-panelled walls of the house but it dies down to a shaky one as tears threaten to spill over the brims of your eyes. "Y/n-" He holds his hand out for you, but you give him the gun instead.

You execute a sharp pivot on the tips of your toes, ready to walk away from him but he finally speaks up and you stop--not turning around, standing still, anticipating. "I'm not getting rid of the gun." It's all he says.

Had you been in the mood, you would've turned around, lounged at him and strangled him, but no, you just kept walking.

Your bedroom is freezing that night, despite it being the middle of summer, and it only gets colder everytime you glance towards Rafe as he gets ready for the bed you begrudgingly shared.

Your expression remains sour, even in your sleep, no matter how far away from your boyfriend you are. There's enough room to fit a full-grown adult between you. The isolation was holding the production of your melatonin hostage, forcing you both to lay awake, backs facing each other but hearts reaching out.

Rafe flips onto his side, staring longingly at the back of your frame. He missed you and you were right in front of him. "Baby," His voice is soft, and the pet name lands on you gently, a testament that your anger has subsided a bit.

You turn over, choosing to lie on your back and face the ceiling. You deem that he's undeserving to see your face at the moment. "I've got another gun in my nightstand." You blamed your miscomprehension on the late hours of the night because surely he did not just say what you think he said.

Rafe can see the way your chest began to rise and fall at a much more shallow pace, he had about five seconds to start explaining before you turned on him. "I told you about my past. I've done some bad things. 'Burying the hatchet' doesn't exist for everyone, and I want to be prepared for anything. When I look at a gun now, it's not a weapon anymore, it's a tool. It's protection."

Your breathing slowed, a little. He takes it as a good sign. "I can't lose you. If something happened to you when I could've prevented it, I'd never forgive myself, and I know you know that." He's right. You did know that. He dedicated his life to you, making sure that you knew that. "I shouldn't have lied about getting rid of it, and I'm sorry."

Your breathing returns to its normal pace. You lay on your side, now facing him. "Fine." Rafe scoots closer to you, a small grin working its way on his lips. "Fine?" You nod, "Yeah, fine. I forgive you, this time, but don't you ever pull some shit like this again or so help me god I will-" He quiets you with a sweet kiss.

Well, it started sweet at least.

Now you're both watching him slide in. Your warm cunt wrapped around his length delightfully. "You're fuckin' perfect, too good f'me." He groans into your ear. His muscular arms cage you in, and you've decided you'd be more than happy to die between them.

Your soft moans bounced off his brawny chest and right back in your face, "Feels so good, Rafe-" Yougaspedp as he picked up the pace, hips rolling into yours for a much deeper angle. Your back arches off the bed slightly as sweat rolls down your back and sticks to the sheets.

It wasn't long before you were both chasing your highs. Rafe always sounded so fucking hot when he was close, his deep groans pitching up to breathless whines when you purposefully clenched around him, threatening him to fill you up unrestrained. Once you came, he pulled out and finished on your heaving stomach, catching your breath.

He doesn't get off of you just yet. He balances himself on one forearm as the other hand comes up to gently move the strands of hair from your face, "I love you," he means it, his eyes say it when his mouth does. "I love you".

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

When They Call You Clingy So You Distance Yourself| Maknaeline Pt1

Warnings: Cursing, Mentioning of Blood

Pt2 Pt3 Hyungline  (xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

JISUNG|

There was nothing you loved more than Jisung's singing. Well maybe Jisung himself.

But from the moment you heard him sing you knew that it was game over for you. You didn't know what you had done to have God bless you with the off chance of running into the chubby cheeked boy on the street during a last-minute girls' trip - the result of a horrible breakup.

And you sure as hell didn't know what you did to have him become smitten with you at first glance, softly asking for your number - even though it was obvious you weren't going to stay long.

But after a week of non-stop texting and meme exchanging it was obvious the feeling was mutual so long distance was something you were willing to try.

And it was the best decision you had ever made. Two and a half years strong.

The last year you had spent in South Korea had been filled with wonderful memories too, and you quickly found yourself getting used to living life with Hanji.

"Sungie!" You burst into the studio and Jisung jumped in fear. "I brought you something!"

He turned around with wide eyes and his mouth opened slightly. "What is it?"

You handed him a couple of his favorite snacks and an energy drink. "I figured you were tired since the guys told me you didn't come back to the dorms..." You wrapped your arms around him and peeked over his shoulder at to what he was scribbling in his favorite, beat up notebook. "What are you writ-"

Jisung quickly closed his notebook. "N-nothing."

"Lemme see!" You giggle reaching for it again. He quickly pulled away. "Jiji you always show me your songs!" You said, not noticing his growing irritation.

"Y/N stop I don't want you to see this one." He said grabbing his notebook.

"Why not?" You whined, trying one last time to grab it. "Thats are thing you show me your songs even before you show the guys!"

Your hands folded around the broken metal spine and part of the papers themselves and Jisung pulled away with an extreme amount of force.

The small part of metal that had no home in the small holes of the spiral bound book hooked its way into your hand. And with Han's forceful pull, ripped open your skin as well in a thing but deep wound.

You hissed in pain slightly from a small paper cut on your middle finger, which was ironic considering the much deeper gash in the palm of your dominant hand.

"Dammit Y/N!" He snapped looking at his ripped pages.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to..." You said quietly.

"Well you did!" He mumbled turning his back on you looking for tape on Chan's cluttered desk.

"I'm sorry."

"Its whatever." Han mumbled, his back still turned to you.

You hold your wrist, you hand bloodied. "Jiji-"

"Y/N I want to be alone right now." His voice was firm, and you could tell he was trying to hide his growing anger. You wanted to respect his wishes but your injury seemed to throb even more by the second, even more blood spilling out.

You nodded but opened your mouth to speak again trying to ask him for help with your gushing hand. "I know but-"

"FUCK Y/N!" Jisung screamed slamming his hands on the table. "Just leave me alone! Stop being clingy for two seconds and give a moment to breathe! You just ruined something extremely important just because you don't know when to stop messing around."

You bit your cheek, trying to stop the tears that were pricking your eyes from falling.

You knew that Jisung was only calling you clingy to to get you to go away. To hurt you enough so you'd want to leave. He had done it before.

And even though it was a bad habit, it was proving really hard for him to break.

You quickly made your way out after watching your boyfriend for a few more seconds as he started tearing small pieces of tape from the dispenser.

And even still you couldn't help but have your heart flutter at his concentration as he bent down to carefully place pieces of tape on the ripped pages.

Dammit. Why do I always have to go and ruin things... You think to yourself as you head out to your car. Grabbing an extreme amount of paper towels to soak up the red liquid streaming from your hand.

You go to wipe your tears, but only smearing blood on your face causing even more tears of frustration, sadness and disappointment to fall from your eyes.

Fuck. I'm gonna need stitches.

You drove to the hospital, continously blinking to keep your vision clear through your emotional state. You were so focused on the road and replaying the whole situation that had just occurred in your head you didn't realize your phone was ringing.

Once you computed the ringning you frantically reached for your phone, so you could talk to Jisung - apologize, just talk things through - not remembering the state your hand was in and feeling it rip open even more, causing your phone to slip and a strangled cry of pain escape your lips.

Incoming call from - Jiji *heart emoji. angel emoji. squirrel emoji.*

Your phone had fallen in between the crack of your seat and you tried grabbing it while keeping your eyes on the road.

Incoming call from - Jiji *heart emoji. angel emoji. squirrel emoji.*

"Holy shit can't I-"

You heard the blaring of a horn and by instinct you turned opposite of the direction you heard it coming from, only to have the noise covered by metal crunching on metal.

Missed Call from - Jiji *heart emoji. angel emoji. squirrel emoji.*

Beeeep.

You have one new voicemail.

"Jagiya - I saw blood on my paper. Were you bleeding? Look, I know you probably don't feel like talking to me and that's valid. I say a lot of mean things to get space- and I know how wrong that is of me. Just...call me back okay? Let me know you're okay...there was...a lot...of blood. A lot...I'm worried. You can be mad but please just let me know, okay? I feel bad. I had a reason for hiding the lyrics; but it just seems stupid now. Because you got hurt because of me...I know I'm ranting but I'm worried sick. So please just...text or something. At least tell me you have the cut bandaged or something. Because baby if I would have realized sooner you were bleeding that much...God I feel like an idiot. Just call me, okay? Or you know what text if you don't feel like talking...just let me know your safe...the guys are worried too...you left a trail...God I feel so bad. Maybe I'm exaggerating but it looked like so much...I love you. Okay? I love you."

Click.

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FELIX|

You heard your front door unlock and looked behind you to see Felix walking in.

He slipped his shoes off and immediately headed towards the game room you had set up from an old study when you and him had frist started dating.

Your desk was still in the corner, but you had set up all of Felix's extra gaming things throughout the rest of the room. Stringing up LED lights and making it as aesthetically pleasing as possible since had taken a liking to filming some of his lives in that room once your relationship had gone public.

You got up from the couch and followed Felix into the room. He didn't seem like his usual cheery self. And his determined steps into the game room differed from his usually excited steps and leaned more towards annoyance.

"Lix is everything okay?" You asked, coming to stand by him. You placing the energy drink you were sipping on by him as you reach out to give him an embrace.

"I'm fine Y/N." He mumbled, trying to shake his PC awake. Then trying to turn on the LED's and lamp next to him. When they didn't turn on he tried plugging his phone in to the extra charger that he always kept plugged in at your home, groaning when that too didn't work.

"You seem upset love, you know I'm here for you."

"I said I'm fine." He snapped as he got up and started looking at the different wires connecting the lights and other various things in the room. "This damned thing."

You got up and looked at the wires yourself. "Let me see-"

"I got it, Y/N." Felix said sternly as he moved his makeshift desk back carefully from the wall enough to squeeze back there and look at the outlets.

At the same time you notice the extension cord didn't look like it was fully plugged in. You let out a small noise of acknowledgement and crawled under table to plug it in.

It was too bad Felix didn't notice your other hand resting on the ground for balance, as he stepped on it while trying to get a better look.

You yelped in pure shock, your head coming up to bang against the underside of the table- and Felix jumping back in surprise - and reaching out to balance himself but instead knocking over your drink onto his extremely expensive keyboard.

You had never heard so many profanities string from his mouth at once.

"I'll go get towels-"

"Are you fucking slow Y/N?!" His voice was harsh. Nothing like the gentle tone he always used with you. "Maybe you are. Would explain why you'd think a fucking corrosive drink could be easily cleaned from a keyboard. GOD." He groaned slamming his fist down.

"Felix I didn't-"

"I didn't know! I didn't know!" Felix mocked. "Well no shit you didn't know. Who in their right mind puts an open drink next to a set up that probably costs more than your monthly wages."

You felt your chin start to tremble and you tried to take a breath.

"You know maybe if you weren't clinging to me 24/7 this wouldn't have happened. Now thanks to you I have to find replacements." He grumbled pushing past you.

You turned to follow him like a lost puppy.

"Dammit did you not get the hint?!" He shouted turning back towards you. "You really are slow holy shit." He spat out.

You watched him make his way towards the door grabbing his keys and just walking out in his house slippers that's how angry you had made him.

"I can fix it..." You whimpered, trying to wipe your tears as you collected an arrangement of towels both dry and cloth. "I-I can f-fix itttt..." You whine as you hold the towels with shaky hands trying to mop up the mess.

"I-I'll fix-fix it-" You keep repeating to yourself until your vision is so blurred by tears the they flow over into the crevices of his precious keyboard. You try to soak up the mousepad he had customized, and the fabric of his chair.

"I'll...fix it..."

Soon enough those three words didn't sound like words you had said them so much.

Your hands were red and raw from scrubbing down the table so much. And you could barely even breath through your desperate cries.

His words kept ringing in your head.

He sounded so angry. You had never seen him like that. And it scared you. It scared you so much.

So much it had you considering if his accessories were the only thing he'd ever consider replacing.

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SEUNGMIN|

You sat in the dressing room, waiting for Seungmin to come back stage.

Tonight was the kickoff concert for their mini tour. Just ten destinations. A mix of normal venues, mini music festivals and things of such.

Ever since you and Seungmin had become a thing a little over three years ago, you had made it your mission to attend all of his concerts. While at first you flew under the radar of attendance- you soon became the "Where's Waldo" of sort when your relationship became public- stays doing everything they could to spot you in the crowd.

Tonight was no different other than the fact that everything went abswolutely horrible.

Malfunction after malfunction. Although most of the Stays were too preoccupied with the the visuals and the improv to really care about the mistakes on the crew end of thing.

And you had come backstage to tell Seungmin the same thing that all the Stays in the crowd had been thinking.

You did great.

Most of the time on Seungmin's shorter trips you stayed out of his way. Calling him and just infroming him of the different places you were visting in the cities, and asking if he would like any specific souvenirs. Thats the way you balanced out most. Thats the way things had worked and you figured they would continue to work...

Until Seungmin came in,.

"What are you doing here?" He asked throwing his jacket on the closest chair, and immediately going to strip off his shirt.

"I just wanted to come in and see how you were doing." You said quietly- gently.

"Appreciate it but you're not exactly helping my situation. I come into the dressing room for a breather - some space but your in here." He sighs grabbing a towel and trying to soak up his sweat.

You frown and look at him, his puppy eyes clouded with frustration.

"I just wanted to tell you that you did good...none of that was your fault. I just wanted to make sure you were aware of that..."

"Y/N. You're getting overwhelming. Seeing you home, at the studio in the audience- I can't catch a fucking break. Its like you're acting as my fucking shadow- clinging on to me wherever I go. Normal couples don't do that." He said as he stepped behind a portable stall to change completley.

You opened your mouth but closed it quickly, not wanting to start something you knew Seungmin was more than likely to finish.

"Like everytime I see you it's such a burden really..." Seungmin came out drying his sweaty hair with a smaller towel. "Like don't you ever get sick of seeing me all the time?" He gives out a smile and a laugh, but his eyes don't crinkle the same way they usually do.

You bite your cheek. "No...why would I get sick of seeing you? Why...would I ever see you as a burden?"

Your boyfriend looks at you in the reflection of the mirror, and turns to see the pain in your eyes.

"I came back here to comfort you Min...but instead you want to find ways to tear me down? So effortlessly at that?" Your voice is growing in pitch by the second but getting quieter and quiter. "I've spent three years supporting you in everything that you do. I've spent money to surprise you on trips Seungmin! When you know I don't have the money to do that!" Seungmin flinches when you use his full name. It had been so long since he heard anything other than a nickname fall from your lips when talking to him. "I always put you before me...am I really that much of a burden to you Seungmin?"

The quiet boy just looked at you.

"Dammit say something!" You exclaimed.

"I...don't know what you want me to say Y/N...I appreciate you coming to my concerts. I do...but don't you have another life outside of me?"

You clenched your jaw. "You're geniunely asking me that? When we've spent over three years together?"

Seungmin sighed. "You know I don't mean it like that..."

"Then how do you mean it?"

He fidgeted and opened his mouth to say something but bit his tongue and thought for a second more.

"You know what...maybe you're right Seungmin." You grab your purse and coat.

"Where are you going?" He asked, a bit of panic creeping into his voice.

"Away." You mumbled. "You're right Seungmin. I don't have a life outside of you. And maybe that's why this doesn't feel so right anymore."

You reach for the door and you feel both his hands wrap around your arm.

"B-Baby...y...you don't mean that...you don't." He pleaded softly. You watched as his brown eyes searched your face for any bluff. "We're right...we feel right-we we fit right..." His voice took a little pitiful whine to it and you felt as if you just kicked a puppy.

Right now he looked like a kicked puppy.

You had to turn your face away so he couldn't see your walls built in anger break.

Because no matter how petty you could be you wouldn't do that to Seungmin.

Would you?

"Seungmin...you think you can just go and say those things...the things that effortlessly hurt me?" You took a deep breath. "It's like you put no thought into how you crack my heart."

Not break. He couldn't break it...

"Jagiya...please...please stay?"

Couldn't my ass. He damn well could. And two could play that game.

"I'm leaving." You said pulling your arm from him roughly, knowing that you ripping yourself from the embrace you relied on so much would hurt him the most.

"You don't mean it...we're both frustrated...Jagiya..."

You decided not to look back as you walked out the door.

Knowing just how quickly your resolve you fold if you saw just how easily Seungmin's heartbreak was painted on to him.

You knew you'd fold the second you saw how his heartbreak mirrored your own.

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JEONGIN|

Please leave a message after the tone.

You groan as you guide yourself to the counter, holding onto it trying to find unwavering land in the battle of dizziness you were fighting.

Please leave a message after the tone.

"Pick up..." You groan as you try to hit the call button for Jeongin, your vision was clouded and you mistakenly pressed your second most recent call.

"Y/N? What's up?"

"Ji...Jisung...grab Jeongin for me?"

"Y/N...he's a little...irked right now. We were poking fun at him when you called but I think we went a bit too far... I don't think its the best idea..."

"Jisung, please?"

You heard Jisung shuffle around, and you heard the crunching of leaves as he made his way towards the sound of loud laughter.

"Innie! Your girlfriend is one the phone!"

You think you're hearing things when you hear Jeongin's distinct groan- but you don't have time to think about it before you hear all of his elder group members "ooh" and "ahh" at the youngest member.

"What is it?" The annoyance in his voice is evident.

"Innie...I don't feel good." You say steadying yourself on the counter. Your hands are slick with sweat, just like the rest of your body.

"Y/N I don't know what you want me to do about that." He says, covering the mic to yell something at the members- who are making kissing noises and mimicking romantic music in the background. "I'm hours away and I'm not gonna be back until Monday."

You whimper as you lower yourself onto the ground, your head swimming with dizziness - all while feeling as if someone tigthened a rubber band around your noggin.

"Stop being so dramatic and take medicine if its that bad." He finally says. "It's embarassing to have you blow up my phone while I'm on a guys trip - and even more embarassing for you to blow up my friends phones as well."

Something about the way he says my makes your heart sting slightly. As if you hadn't cultivated friendships with the guys as well.

"Maybe if you had answere-"

"Just stop Y/N! I'm not a baby! And having you cling to me...its making the guys think that. I mean don't you see how annoying that looks? Childish? Being clingy is downright childish."

You can't really focus on Jeongin's angry rant because you vision is getting blurry, and your head is throbbing so horribly, and your body is getting so clammy you can't focus on anything other than how shitty you feel.

"I think I'm gonna pass out-"

You hear Jeongin's exasperated huff. "You always have to make it about you don't you?! I'm trying to tell you how I want you sto stop blowing up my phone so damn much while I'm with the guys and you're here being dramtic. We're adults Y/N. We don't have to rely on each other for everything! So just lay down if your feeling that bad. I don;t cal you for everything."

You groan into the phone. "Jeongin-"

"Holy shit Y/N, can't you take a hint? For fuck's sake...I'll talk to you Monday." He said before hanging up, his tone exuding the aura of a typical "too-cool-for-anyone" teen boy or more specifically a hormonal attitude filled PMS monster.

You take a second to breathe, the nausea that was hitting you in waves only coming in faster and stronger.

You scrolled through your contacts and just clicked on one. Your fingers were trembling and you could barely press the speaker button before dropping your phone to the ground in a moment of weakness.

I'm gonna pass out...just...a minute longer...wait until someone answers...

You decided to not delay the inevitable and just lay on the cool ground that you'd end up on anyway. Might as well save yourself from an uneccassary bump.

"Hello?"

"I think I'm gonna faint..." You groan.

"The fuck? Y/N? What? I'm on my way I'm at the studio I'll be there in a minute..."

You give a small hmm and lean more into the floor if that was possible.

It brought you back to when you were a child, and would decide to randomly nap on the ground.

Maybe I am childish...

Maybe he was right...

You're mine clears as your mind goes static then black as if a switch turned on.

"Y/N? Y/N!"

When you open your eyes your blinded by lights and instantly annoyed by the beeping of mulitple machines.

"Y/N-ie!" You see the smiling faces of Chaeryeong and Yeji. Then Ryujin, Lia and Yuna's faces pop around you too.

"The doctor said your blood sugar was extremley low." Yeji said grabbing your hands. "He said that they're gonna run a few more tests on you too see what the cause of it was."

"We were worried sick when you called Chaer so we all came!" Lia exclaims.

You smiled gratefully, your head still throbbing slightly.

"Thank you." You said quietly.

"I called Changbin." Chaeryeong commented. "I thought it was best that one of the Kids relay the message to your boyfriend."

You pop up in bed, the sudden movement dizzying you. "What? What did you say?"

"I just told him we found you past out in your kitchen. At that point we didn't know what caused it...so all I said is we were bringing you to the hospital."

"Your boyfriend has been calling your phone for the last hour and a half." Yuna says nodding towards your phone.

26 missed calls.

"Hah...so he calls me clingy and childish then proceeds to call my phone 26 times?" You groan as you throw yourself back onto the hospital bed.

The ITZY girls look at you with sympathetic looks, Yeji squeezing your hands gently as well.

"Fuck it." You mumble, a fit of anger bubbling inside you as you swiped away all the call notifications, an insurge of pettiness filling you. "Clingy and childish my ass. I'll show him what that actually looks like."

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@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha @iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric @panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee @shuporanporang