#thank you for the request. sorry it took me so long to do :)

[chenlezip]

secret admirer | woozi x reader .

⤷ summary: can i req a woozi fic? one where he writes little love songs and poems and y/n also writes them and they put love letters in eachother’s lockers BUTT its anonymous so they reject eachother without knowing its eachother :)!!

annas note: @jjjjeonww finally got around to writing this out for you, i’m so sorry it took me so long! 😖🤍 i hope i did it justice, thank you for writing chenle for me! (i’ll write out the mark request too!) i made a happy ending.. sort of..?

it’s the end of the school day and woozi is exhausted. he head to his locker, opening it and seeing something like a letter falling out of it. he bent down and picked it up, ‘to woozi’ it read with a small heart beside his name. what the hell? he questioned himself, who would do this? could it be someone he knew or not?

he shrugged it off for now, picking it up and hiding it in his blazer pocket as he grabbed his bag from the locker. he slammed it shut before feeling someone throw an arm over his shoulder, his best friend hoshi. “ji hoon~ how’s it going?” he asked and woozi just smiled, “it’s been a tiring day.”

once he’s back home and by himself in the comfort of his room, he opened the letter and read it.

‘your music reminds me of the sky before it rains— soft, melancholic, and utterly beautiful. i hope you never stop creating. it brings me great joy when i walk past the music room.’

but what intrigued him more was that there was no name on the bottom of the letter, just a small ‘yours, secret admirer.’

now, it’s your turn to find a letter in your locker. you just arrived at school and notice something just poking out of it. you take it out and smile, opening it up and reading the words on the paper, raw and unfiltered.

‘your words make me feel like i’m standing in the middle of my favourite song, you have such a way with them. and that’s quite rare.’

your heart pounded in your chest, oh my god.. this was the sweetest thing you’ve ever received in your life. you hid the letter in your notebook and head to class, rethinking the words over and over in your head.

it’s lunchtime. you’re eating together with woozi and his friends, laughing and having a great time. suddenly, someone mentions the fact that you both have received a secret letter from an admirer. you blush, “ah- it’s probably someone messaging around, right? i mean-“

woozi, on the other hand, noticed your reaction and his heart nearly dropped. messing around? he sighed, “yeah probably aha, i mean, who writes things like these nowadays?” now it was your turn for your heart to drop. thoughts were running through both your minds - is this really what they think? maybe i shouldn’t have wrote that letter now..

well, it soon comes out that woozi knows it’s you who wrote his letter. yeah.. he didn’t mean to snoop but he did notice the familiar writing poking out from your notebook that was on your desk in english class. luckily, you were asleep, head on the desk so he could take a closer look. he leaned in, slowly pulling it out and his eyes widened.

“you’re my secret admirer..” he whispered in a low tone. he smiled to himself and backed away, he had a plan. he was just going to write you a letter so you knew it was him, he didn’t care anymore, he wanted you to know.

and so, there he is in the back of the class, quickly writing out something small in his letter and quickly shoving it in your locker before the end of the day.

when you open it, you see it and you open it up, a gasp escaping from your lips as you see the name on the bottom.

‘i think we’ve been writing to each other for so long without really saying anything. let’s fix that, shall we? meet me after school— if you want this to be real.

lee jihoon.

[betweenthescarletmoon]

Op wow yessss these thoughts are amazing. Thank you for helping me empathize with those that didn't like Jayce. It's true that it absolutely must've hit home for people, there's a reason why so many connected with Jinx and Viktor.

I do think the point of s1 wasn't to completely empathize with him, bc we're Told so much instead of Shown about his internal turmoil, his exhaustion from trying to uphold so much unprecedented power, even his underlying mental health issues that led to his obsessiveness and suicidality. The point was to understand his corruption/fall from grace arc. That's why I always say Jayce must be watched twice in s1 to at least begin to understand or even like him. It indeed took me a second watch to realize just how much he Tried, how every mistake came from a position of naive ignorance and the childish wish to magic problems away. His love for his city, tarnished into fear of the Outsiders' attempts to destroy it.

However, s2 seemed to back away from this narrative mentality a little. Yes, he paid for his crimes (I'd say far more than he perhaps deserved, but though he had no idea of the consequences of his actions, everyone would pay for it in the long run). And yes, he fought to make up for his mistakes. But I think his arc was fast-forwarded to the point that it falls apart upon closer inspection.

I will never understand what Truly made him kill Viktor, as much as I don't understand how he went from Feral Kill-mode to Actually I Admire and Forgive You mode. Abandoned political themes aside, Jayce as a character was reduced to practically nothing, aside of Viktor. Shock factor and shipping material, that's all he is in season 2. It's just. Depressing. Where were all these messages on bias, paranoia, vengeance, control, the dangers of technology, etc? He and Caitlyn had such similar themes—is this perhaps why they were separated so much? Why do we have such little of his say about HIS weapons? Why does he not want Jinx to pay for what she's done anymore? If he'd requested Silco to deliver her the Very Day of the bombing???

I have many more gripes but my point stands. Jayce is far too complex of a character to reduce him to pure likability and "does no wrong" mentality, but that's the arcane fandom for you. A fandom that excuses Jinx and Silco's actions, mind you. I also think Jinx was strangely absolved of her actions by the show itself bc of fan reception of her and it makes me Sick. Or perhaps this is just a side effect of the little time they seized in deepening their arcs. (I think a fourth act would've done this story wonders.)

Sorry for taking over this post to be arcane critical but i fully agree with you op. People who see Jayce as Who He Is acknowledge that he is flawed, AND appreciate his character for it. The writers should've trusted their original decisions about this, instead of diminishing him to nothing.

spicy take of the week but i feel like the arcane fandom has really overcorrected with the jayce hate to the point where they've flattened him into someone who does no wrong/ has only done wrong because he's like 'too nice' or 'too good' or whatever. i feel like it really flattens his character and takes away from how much he grew to act like he didn't do some really fucked up shit in season 1

[gingernut1314]

Hey! Please feel free to ignore the request if it doesn't inspire you, but i was wondering if you could write something with a reader who is dating luffy. She is a little insecure ( perhaps a plus sized reader or just not super comfortable in their body reader) when encountering Boa Hancock. But here is the twist, Boa is obsessed with both reader and luffy and wants to be with both of them. I thought it would be a fun twist on a prompt I've seen a lot.

Thank you, and I hope you are having a good day!

We Belong Together

Content: Luffy x gn!reader x Boa Hancock, feelings of jealousy, feelings of insecurity, Hancock obsessing over reader and Luffy, expressing feelings, denying feelings, enemies to....what the hell??, second half takes place during time skip (no real spoilers besides Silvers Rayleigh mentioned)

Word Count: 1.3K

A/N: Sorry this took so long 😅 buuutt here it is!! I had too much fun with this! I wasn't sure if you wanted reader to be like--down with dating Hancock too so I didn't add that but I would be willing to do another, shorter part 2 if that's something you would like to read! Again this was too fun to mess around with! I hope you enjoy!!

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Boa Hancock. 

The name set every nerve within you on fire.

Why? Well, it was simple really. 

She was beautiful. Otherworldly so. Beautiful and thin and tall and powerful. Men drooled over her and she had the ability to turn them to stone for it. Turn them to stone before the drool even began to dry on their chins. 

You could possibly get over your jealousy and insecurities around her, you had with the members of your own crew, had it not been for one simple fact.

She was in love with Luffy. 

Luffy who you were dating. 

She was so insanely obsessed with Luffy that she believed they were going to get married. 

At first she had been venomous towards you like the snake she was. A venom you were quick to spit right back. But recently that venom was lessened. 

It started out small. She wouldn’t stare stony daggers at you. Wouldn’t try to belittle you and keep you far from Luffy. In fact, she had begun making sure you could be with Luffy as much as you wanted. 

Then it turned into honey-dripped compliments, blushing cheeks, and bashful behavior when around you. She had even begun to serve you food. Something she had only ever done for Luffy. 

It was strange. You trusted nothing she gave you, whether verbal or physical. 

“She’s up to something.” You confined to Luffy one night as you two walked through the Kuja village. The occasional warrior would greet you both warmly as you passed. “She is being too--” You struggled for a moment to find the right word to describe just how she had been treating you, “Too nice to me.” 

Luffy stared at you for a long moment…a moment he took to either think over what you were saying or think over just how hungry he must be growing. Either could be entirely possible, but before you could prompt him to say something, he did.  

“...Okay.” Just that? That’s all he had to say about this situation? 

“It’s not okay!” You huffed, “She hates my guts. The only reason she hasn’t killed me yet is because it would displease you.” 

“Maybe she wants to be your friend now.” Luffy suggested with a shrug. “She’s cool.” You tried not to let your envy get the better of you at Luffy’s words. Tried not to let your mind work and work on it…

But what if he loved her back? What if he loved her more than you? She was beautiful--fit and you just--you weren’t. What if Luffy wanted that over you?

No. No you knew that wasn’t true. Would never be true. Hancock was a friend in Luffy’s eyes, nothing more. 

“Hancock doesn’t have friends. She has allies and she has enemies.” You continued to disagree with your captain. “I am currently enemy number one on this island to her because she wants to have you all to herself.” 

“Maybe…but she told me she wishes you could get closer.” You blinked at his words. Closer? What did that mean? 

She wants to get closer so she can lower your guard. So that she can turn you to stone like those idiots who drool all over her like dogs. 

No. Never. You were her number one enemy and she was yours. You were determined to keep it that way. 

Luffy grabbed hold of your hand then, his warm skin pulling you instantly from your spiraling thoughts. “Quick! I smell meat grilling!” And he sharply pulled you through the village. 

“So…you’ll be staying with us till Luffy gets back?” Hancock asked all too timidly after she had returned from dropping Luffy and the Dark Knight himself off on Rusukaina Island. You had stayed behind on the island, watching as they had sailed away. Had stayed on the cliff side feeling all too lost without Luffy by your side. Hadn’t moved till the Snake Princess’ voice sounded in your ears. 

“Don’t worry. I’m going to stay in the village far away from you.” You spoke, finally pulling yourself together enough to turn and head back inland. 

“Oh but…I have made up a room for you within my castle.” You shot her a bewildered look, finding the woman was keeping her eyes downcast. Finding she was blushing like it was Luffy who was paying attention to her. “But, of course, if you truly wish stay in the village I can have a house readied--”

“Stop.” You snapped, halting your steps to face the princess. She turned her blue eyes up to look at you shyly. Look at you in a way that makes you feel--not how you wanted to feel when being looked at by the woman. “What is wrong with you?” Hancock’s perfectly groomed brows furrowed in confusion.

“I--do not know what you mean.” You crossed the small distance between you two to stare jaggedly up at the annoyingly tall woman. A woman whose breath hitched at the closeness. 

“You have to be up to something, right? You’re trying to get me to lower my guard enough so you can swoop in and finally get rid of me. So you can have Luffy all to yourself.” You demanded, not letting up your boiling glare. A glare she only seemed to grow more and more flustered under. “Right? Tell me I’m right.” 

“N-No. I--no. You love Luffy.” You--blinked. Was all this just--her acting defeated? 

“I--yeah. So?” You didn’t dare let the bite in your voice lessen. Hancock fiddled with her fingers, again those shimmering eyes downward. 

“And…I love Luffy.” Anger spiked in your chest so fast it was painful. 

“No. You don’t.” Hancock met your gaze then. Met it with that burning intensity and stubbornness you hadn’t seen directed at you in a while, but it was an all too familiar gaze. One that had your muscles tensing, readying for an attack. 

“Of course I do. But…” She hesitated, eyes going wide as if she was remembering who she was talking to. A hesitation you only grew irritated at. 

“But? What? Spit it out.” Hancock seemed to whimper at your tone. A pitiful thing--like some scared child who was getting punished by their parents. 

“But I--I love you too.” She got out on a rushed bit of air, cheeks turning so red they almost blended into her hardly covering outfit. 

You--didn’t know what to say. What to even think. All you could do was stand there, mouth a gap as you stared up at the princess in complete and utter shock.

“Uh--you--what?” Hancock nodded smally. 

“Yes. It’s true. I thought I despised you. Thought you were stealing Luffy from me when--when really he is for both of us. Just as I am for both of you. And you for both Luffy and I.” She explained. An explanation that did nothing but hurt your brain. “We three--we belong together. I love you both.” 

“AH--stop. Oh gods please stop.” You plead. “You can’t--you don’t love me, Hancock. You’re confused.” Before you could even stop talking, Hancock was gasping sharply, a delicate hand shooting upward to cover her mouth. 

“You--you said my name.” Again you stood there all too confused. 

“I--yeah. Want me to call you something else.” Hancock was on the verge of tears, she looked so happy.

“You can call me anything you like, my love.” 

“Oh gods.” You moaned, turning on your heels to start marching quickly to the village.

No, no, no. There was no way this was happening. How the hell did she even get that in her mind? That you three were meant to be together? 

She was more delusional than you had originally thought.

“Oh! Wait for me, dear!” Hancock called, the sound of quickened footsteps following after you. “Shall we talk about plans for our wedding now or should we wait for Luffy to return?” She asked, slowly once at your side to match your steps. “Yes. Yes, you're right. We should wait.”

This was going to be a very, very long two years.

[sulumuns-dootah]

Hello and can i ask if its okay for a request? If its okay, I read your ‘WHB Characters meeting their Obey me counterparts’ and got the idea…

What if the WHB Kings meeting Diavolo from Obey me?

Or WHB Angels & Angels from Obey me? (you can choose one or make a request or not, if you like)

Thank you in advance

WHB kings meeting prince Diavolo

⟡ Masterlist ⟡

A/N: Hi! I actually wrote the Seraphims meeting their OM! version in the second part of OM! meeting WHB ^^ (Took me a while but I'm back, babey!)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Oh hey, this future king of Hell isn't as scary as Satan expected

Actually, he kinda reminds him of Mammon in a way

With the whole golden retriver energy

On the other hand, Diavolo is intruqued with Satan's biker persona

Don't tell Barbatos, but he might buy a bike too and ride it while Barbatos is busy with chores around the castle

       ༺☆༻

These two get along really well

I already mentioned that they're really similar so lemme talk about it a bit more

They both have their royal manners, but still try to reach out to their people from their privileged pedestal

Also, they don't take anything much seriously

Like you could spill a whole gallon of soup on them and they'll ask if you're okay and then laugh it all off

       ༺☆༻

I really hope that Diavolo doesn't have any expectations based on the brothers

Leviathans couldn't be the furthest from each other so I doubt Diavolo would be able to befriend Levi by cosplaying Ruri-chan for him

At first he'll be his cheery self, but after Levi responds in a luke-warm way, he'll pretty much shut himself off

Leviathan, being Leviathan, doesn't wanna have anything to do with some other king of Hell

Will even try to start a competition about whose Barbatos is the better servant (OM!Barbatos wins, sorry)

       ༺☆༻

Oh but these two will hit it off nicely

Chaos ensues

Might be the frist time where Diavolo has to be the one to stop shenanigans from spiralling out of control

Please do make sure that Beel doesn't find out about Diavolo's fear of pickled vegetables, or he might end up chasing him around the castle (like that video of that one woman who was terrified of olives)

       ༺☆༻

Given what happened with OM!Belphegor did, Diavolo is a bit vary while meeting Belphie

Though, his fears are pretty much calmed when he finds out that this guy can't go an hour or so without falling asleep

He really admires how Nifleheim manages to not descent into chaos and definitely wants to try and implement some of the rules in the Devildom

Belphegor didn't even realise that someone new was in the room

Will probably ask Beleth if he changed up his style and tell him that red is not his color and that he should just keep the suit he wears normally

       ༺☆༻

Okay, Diavolo is scared

Like geniunelly terrified

He will actually refuse to be around Asmo for an extended period of time

Just hearing all the stories about him is enough

And even if he didn't, the smell would speak for Asmo enough

On Asmo's end, you already know he'd be down (who wouldn't he be for tho?)

Depending on the look that Diavolo would be in, different things would turn him on about him

       ༺☆༻

Lucifer saddens him

To what extent are the kings and the brothers different? Do they carry similar mindsets and feelings? If so, he really needs to have a long conversation with OM!Lucifer

Lucifer, on the other hand, is finally happy to find out who tf the Diavolo guy is

For some reason he kept thinking about it after having met his OM! self who would constantly only talk about him

Lucifer likes him, overall ^^

[sugarplumkneecaps]

Hello there! I'd like to request a Sonic x reader x Shadow if you will but if you can't then Shadow x Reader is fine! But basically since it's almost valentine's day, they have like a day together on Valentine's day just being all couple-y n stuff? Thank you take care! ❤️

A/N: Ahh! I’m going to give the 3 person one shot a go. I really hope I do your request justice <3 I tried to stick with something pretty wholesome and cute <3 Enjoy!

Valentine

Pairing: Sonic x Reader x Shadow C/W: none Genre: Wholesome, cuddling, fluff

“Well, here we are!”

Sonic’s voice cut through the loud noises of the city around you as you stood before a colorful building dawning all sorts of Chao memorabilia. Sonic had been going on about this new Chao Garden cafe for weeks and the grand opening just happened to be on Valentine’s Day. Shadow insisted that it was an elaborate marketing ploy and that you all should go after the hype had worn off. Sonic wasn’t one to wait for anything, though.

Crossing his arms over his chest defiantly, Shadow’s voice rose about the loud honking of cars and chatter of the long line formed around you, “did you get a reservation?”

“Sonic the Hedgehog doesn’t need a reservation,” Sonic declared, putting his outstretched thumb into his chest for emphasis. “Watch and learn!” He turned on his heel and headed toward the staff outside directing foot traffic. Each staff member looked horribly stressed, each wearing a forced smile when approached in between obsessively checking their clipboards. Marketing scheme or not, you felt awful for them and only hoped that the crowd would have mercy on them.

Sonic approached one of them confidently, interrupting their frantic preparations, “hiya! I’m Sonic the hedgehog and I-“

“Look, mister, I’m sorry but if you don’t have a reservation I can’t help you.”

Taken aback by the abrupt answer, Sonic tried again with an earnest tone, “Aha- right. Well, can’t you make an exception to the rule? What with me saving the world constantly and whatnot?”

You had to give Sonic credit for trying. The worker, however, was none too pleased. Exasperated by the interaction (and probably the line that wrapped around the building far from view), they answered firmly, “no reservation, no service.”

Returning to you, Sonic shrugged and smiled sheepishly, “they must of lost my reservation!”

“Typical,” Shadow shook his head, pulling his phone from his quills and typing something. “Let’s go.”

“What about lunch?” you asked, your stomach reminding you of your pitiful breakfast that morning. You had overslept and had to rush out the door in order to meet Shadow and Sonic here. All you managed was a granola bar and a breakfast shake, which had held you over enough to take the train here. But now, it was time for real food.

“I had a feeling Sonic might have dropped the ball, so I made reservations elsewhere.”

Sonic hung his head in comical defeat as you all started off to where Shadow led you. The walk over wasn’t incredibly far, thank Chaos, but the difference between the previous location and this was drastic. You stood before a small door leading inside a tall building, the windows having their blinds drawn to block out the sun overhead. On the door in small, neat print read “Chao Bao”. You reached out to turn the knob, pushing the door with some force to release it from the stuck frame.

An older gentleman stood behind a server stand, greeting you all as you entered, “why hello! Good afternoon!” He peered down at the page before him, sliding his long finger down the page until stopping abruptly. “Shadow?”

“Yes.”

“Ah! Right on the dot! Right this way, please.”

You followed him back into the building, moving between pillars and separating walls. As you walked down the hallway, you took note of the private rooms on either side of you. Muffled sounds of laughter sung behind each closed door until you all reached the one the host directed you into.

“Your waiter will be there momentarily! Make yourself comfortable.”

You all entered the room one after the other, taking in the sight of the private space. You found your way over to one of the intricately carved chairs, sitting gingerly at the large rosewood table. Within minutes of getting settled, you had all ordered and waited on your food.

“Man, Shadow, you really had to show me up,” Sonic pondered aloud, glancing around the room, nodding his head in approval.

“You say that as if it is difficult to do,” Shadow scoffed, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

“I’m just happy we get to spend the day together,” you offered. You genuinely felt so lucky to have these two goof balls in your life. Your relationship with them was unique, sure, but they made you happy in ways you didn’t know were even possible. Shadow offered a great deal of stability in most things and Sonic added spontaneity to the mix. Even though their bickering was the most of your worries after years of squabbles, they both worked well together to take care of you as their partner.

Rounds of bao were delivered onto the table alongside various other items that you couldn’t concern yourself with before digging in to sate your aching stomach. Sonic matched your pace, groaning after a short while as he rubbed his distended belly. Shadow thanked the servers before standing to leave. “Let’s get moving, we have more to do.”

You glanced at Shadow, giving him a quizzical look, “oh? Does it require much energy? I think I’m due for a nap after that.”

He smiled at you sweetly, moving over to you to offer a hand to stand you up. You placed your hand in his, the warm of his palm sending a tingling sensation down your forearm.

Sonic got up to join you both, stretching his arms above his head as he went. “Are we heading over to-”

“Yes.” Shadow answered curtly, narrowing his eyes at Sonic. “Do you not know the meaning of the word surprise? Now shut it.”

Sonic laughed loudly, giving you both a grand thumbs up before you went on your way.

The two had planned the most elaborate day of fun and doting you could have imagined, showering you with love and gifts that you showed endless appreciation for. It was far too soon when night crept over the city, signaling the time for your departure. Each of them kissed your hand before waving you off on your train. You had wished to spend more time with them, but with their insane work schedules, you understood their reasons for not entertaining late night hang outs.

However, upon entering your apartment, you found them both lounging on the couch, as if they were summoned by your very thoughts. You stumbled over your words, trying to piece together a coherent thought.

“You didn’t think it was over, did ya?” Sonic winked, grabbing your hand and leading you to the spot on the couch between them. They had done everything you hadn’t ever considered to be done to prepare for a lovely night in; rose petals were strewn about, candles had been lit, various sweets awaited you on the coffee table alongside a large bowl of popcorn and your favorite cup had been filled with your favorite drink. You felt an overwhelming sensation to tear up as each hedgehog took each of your hands into their own.

Images of your favorite film flashed on the screen, scenes playing out as you munched on your gifted snacks and cuddled between Shadow and Sonic. As the film neared its end, they each kissed your hand once more.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, love.”

[alittlegiraffe]

Hiii i was wondering if i could request an eminem x reader, where reader is a popstar in the 90s-00s and her and em date secretly off and on between 99-02 and have a crazy connection but break up until the 2010s after marshall gets sober because they just couldnt get over eachother??? (Sorry if thats confusing or complex lol)

A/N: I really couldn't think of a way to add in her being a pop star without making it weird. Hope this is close enough.

Title: Still You

You never expected to hear from him again.

It had been years—years of moving on, of pretending you were fine, of forcing yourself to believe that some things just weren’t meant to be.

But then, out of nowhere, your phone rang.

And it was him.

You stared at the name on the screen, your heart hammering in your chest. Part of you thought about letting it go to voicemail, but your hands had a mind of their own, answering before you could stop yourself.

"...Hello?"

A Marshall Mathers x Reader Fanfiction

A beat of silence. Then, his voice—lower, rougher than you remembered, but still him.

"Hey."

You swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the counter. "Marshall?"

"Yeah." A breath, like he was trying to figure out what to say. "Uh… I know this is outta nowhere. I just—I needed to tell you somethin’."

You braced yourself. "Okay."

He exhaled, and when he spoke again, his voice was softer. "I got sober."

Your heart clenched.

You had dreamt of hearing those words—had begged for them back then, when you were still by his side, still trying to pull him out of the darkness he refused to see.

But he hadn’t been ready. And it had broken you.

"...Wow," you whispered, your throat tight. "Marshall, that’s—God, that’s amazing."

He let out a quiet laugh, almost disbelieving. "Yeah. Took me long enough."

You shook your head, even though he couldn’t see it. "No. You did it when you were ready. And I’m—" Your voice wavered. "I’m so damn proud of you."

Silence stretched between you, heavy with everything unspoken.

Finally, he cleared his throat. "I don’t expect anything from this call," he admitted. "I just… I needed to tell you. ��Cause losing you? That was my rock bottom. And I just—" He hesitated. "Thank you."

You pressed a hand to your chest, trying to steady your breathing.

You had spent so long wondering if he had ever thought about you, if he had ever missed you the way you missed him.

And now, here he was, saying the words you had ached to hear.

"Marshall," you murmured, voice thick with emotion. "I never—" You paused, swallowing hard before trying again. "I never stopped loving you."

His breath hitched.

Your eyes burned with unshed tears. "I missed you every day. I still do."

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy this time. It was hopeful.

Like maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the end of your story.

Maybe it never had to be.

Neither of you spoke for a long moment.

Marshall was still on the other end of the line, you could hear his breathing—uneven, like your words had knocked the air out of him.

You hadn’t meant to say it.

You weren’t supposed to say it.

But it had been there for years, locked away behind pride and heartbreak, and the second he called, the second you heard his voice, it all cracked wide open.

"You still—" He stopped, cleared his throat. "You still miss me?"

You closed your eyes. "Every day, Marshall."

Another silence. But this one felt different—charged, thick with something unsaid.

Finally, he let out a soft, disbelieving laugh. "Shit… I dunno what to say to that."

You smiled, shaking your head. "You don’t have to say anything."

He exhaled sharply. "Nah, I do. ‘Cause I miss you, too. Always did. Even when I tried to pretend I didn’t."

You leaned against the counter, gripping your phone tighter. "Then why didn’t you ever call before?"

He sighed. "Didn’t think I had the right to." A pause. "I fucked it up. I hurt you. And I knew if I ever wanted to fix shit, I had to fix me first."

Your heart twisted.

The man you had walked away from was stubborn, reckless—too lost in his addiction to see what he was destroying. But this? This was different.

This was growth.

This was him finally seeing himself the way you had always seen him.

"Are you happy?" you asked quietly.

Marshall hesitated. "Gettin’ there," he admitted. "S’not easy. Some days are harder than others. But I feel… clearer. More like myself than I have in years."

A warmth spread through your chest. "That’s all I ever wanted for you."

"I know," he murmured. "And I was too fucked up to see it."

Another silence. Another shift in the air.

Finally, he spoke again, voice careful. "Do you think… we could see each other?"

Your breath hitched.

You should’ve been scared. Should’ve hesitated.

But you didn’t.

"Yeah," you whispered. "I’d like that."

And for the first time in years, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Right back where you started.

Right back where you belonged.

---

You hadn’t let yourself think about that night in a long time.

It was easier to bury it, to pretend that the final fight—the one that ended it all—was just another moment lost in the wreckage of what you and Marshall used to be.

But after hearing his voice again, after agreeing to see him, it all came rushing back like a wound torn open.

It had started like so many fights before—words sharp enough to cut, his eyes glassy, his hands twitching as he paced the living room.

"Why the fuck do you always have to start shit?" he had snapped, running a hand over his face.

You had laughed, but there was no humor in it. "I’m not starting shit, Marshall. I’m begging you to wake the fuck up."

He rolled his eyes, turning away from you, muttering something under his breath.

"Don’t do that," you had hissed. "Don’t act like I’m the problem when you’re the one getting high out of your mind every night."

He scoffed. "Oh, right. Because you never fucked up, huh? You’re so fucking perfect."

"This isn’t about me!" You had thrown your hands up, frustration boiling over. "This is about you being too fucking blind to see what you’re doing to yourself—to us."

"Jesus Christ, here we go again," he had muttered.

That’s when you lost it.

"You know what? Yeah, here we go again, Marshall! The same fucking cycle, the same excuses, the same bullshit. You promise you’ll get better, and I believe you, and then you turn around and prove me wrong every single time."

He had glared at you, jaw clenched, breathing heavy. "If I’m so fucking hopeless, why are you still here?"

And that’s when you knew.

Because the truth was, you had already been gone for a long time.

Your body was still in that house, your heart still trying to hold on, but the person you were—the person who had once believed he would fight for you, for himself—she had left months ago.

You had swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing your voice to stay steady. "I don’t know," you had admitted.

That had stopped him in his tracks.

His expression had changed—not angry, not defensive. Just… lost.

You had seen the flicker of something behind his eyes, something real, something terrified.

But it was too late.

"I can’t do this anymore," you had whispered. "I love you, Marshall. But I can’t watch you destroy yourself."

His hands had curled into fists at his sides. "So that’s it?" His voice had cracked. "That’s it?"

And maybe, if he had said something else—anything else—you would’ve stayed.

But he hadn’t.

He had just stared at you, letting the silence fill the space between you, his pride swallowing the words he was too afraid to say.

So you had turned around, grabbed your bag, and walked out the door.

And he had let you.

Now, sitting on your couch, your phone still clutched in your hands, you let out a shaky breath.

He had let you walk away back then.

But tonight?

Tonight, he was the one who reached out.

And maybe—just maybe—this time, neither of you would let go.

[herofics]

Hello!! I found your blog and gotta say I LOVE your works!!! :D I've got a request if that's alright?

I was thinking of a Gojo x Stoic! Fem! Reader, but the reader has the same power as All Might?

She's called over to help with a serious mission, and seeing her power in action manages to impress and catch the attention of Gojo.

A/N: Sorry this took so damn long, I got this ask at the end of June and I'm just now getting around to writing it. Thank you for liking my writing, it means a lot to me :D Also Idk what the hell this ended up being, but I hope it's okay…

You don't particularly care about the whole "exorcizing curses" gig, you just do it because you happen to be very good at it and were born a sorcerer

You'd heard of Gojo before you met him, he's pretty freaking famous in the world of jujutsu, so it would be much weirder if you hadn't heard of him

You're not really impressed by him though, because he seems kind of childish and immature, even if he is the strongest

You were assigned a mission and you were supposed to do it alone

But for some reason, Gojo decided to tag along, because apparently he was bored

He promised not to interfere with your mission, unless you really looked like you needed it

You kind of rolled your eyes at him, because you were sure you would manage just fine and you pretty much always did missions alone

Gojo took your indifference to mean that you didn't like him, which made him even more annoying, because he became very talkative while trying to figure you out

You handled your mission and Gojo was just hanging around the whole time

He was kind just observing you, and when you punched the first curse and it just disintegrated instantly it made him raise an eyebrow

Cause normally the curses wouldn't just instantly disappear, but apparently your punches were so strong and infused with so much cursed energy it just evaporated them

Gojo is of course able to do this too, but he's never seen anyone aside from himself do it without a blackflash

He's intrigued, but he's also mostly figured out how your cursed technique works

Your physical strength remind him of Toji, which is not a very pleasant memory, but it just shows how strong you are

Gojo congratulates you after a mission well done, and offers to take you to eat something

You accept, not really thinking anything off it, just a meal between colleagues, but he basically uses the meal to talk your ear off and ask you a lot of questions

Gojo found himself very interested in you and while you do seem a bit distant, you're not really that cold

[xmads-omensx]

Hello love 🩵

So I don't know if you wrote about it but, I was wondering! Here in my city it's raining a lot, and I really love rain btw, and could you do oneshot about Y/N and Noah dancing on the rain?

Pairing: Noah Sebastian X Reader

Content Warnings: none

Tags: @shayeanna-ashlie @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @supersquirrel1996 @tosoundlessdarkistare @bloody-spades @klutzy-kay24 @heyyoplayer @lacy1986  @dominuslunae @collidewiththesav @kenjipepsi1 @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @chey-h @thisbicc @fadingangelwisp @heyyoplayer @overmydeadbodysblog @chey-h @illmakeyousaywow  @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @dsireland86 @missduffsblog  @littlebear423 @blade-dressed-in-red @rumoured-whispers @dontwantthemoney @eclipseeetop @xxkittenkissesxx @theanarchymuse95 @blackveilomens @lilgarbitch @lil-garbitch @concretejunglefm @museonfilm

Hey my lovely anon! Thank you so much for the request, and so sorry that it took so long to get to it! I hope you enjoy!<3

Noah was never really a fan of dancing.

It was his social anxiety in part, but he really just hated the attention it brought to him.

You, however, loved it.

You had always had this fantasy about dancing in the rain with the man you love.

And thankfully, it rained almost constantly in your city at the moment.

One evening, Noah had come over for your bi-weekly movie night, and that week was your turn.

Since you were a sucker for Rom-coms, you chose The Notebook, wanting to get all warm and fuzzy and in the Valentines spirit since it was rapidly approaching.

The movie was drawing to an end when Noah stood up, taking your hand and pulling you towards your back door.

You watched him expectantly as he opened the door and walked out into the torrential downpour.

“What the fuck is wrong with you. You’ll get sick!”

“No I won’t. Come join me.”

Against your better judgement, you followed him out, only to be swept up into his arms, making you giggle.

He lowered you to the ground, still holding you close as he began to sway the both of you from side to side, making you slow dance.

“I’m a terrible dancer.” He confessed quietly, almost silent in the downpour.

“This is perfect.” You replied as you kept swaying.

The reality was far better than the fantasy of dancing in the rain with you lover.

Noah was warm despite the cold rain.

You were out there for what felt like forever before Noah suggested you both go back in after noticing that you had begun to shiver against the cold.

You spent the rest of the night bundled up and snuggled up together in order to get as warm as possible.

It was perfect.

[rocknrolldecadence]

Hi, it's me again! This time i would like to request something smutty for Axl, again. Like Axl blindfolds the reader (preferably with his bandana) and goes down on her till she gets overstimulated and can't think of anything else except from him, and then fucks her. Please include again some soft hand holding, oh and some praise kink. If you don't feel comfortable doing it it's okay, thank you!!

˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖✮-------------------✮˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖

appetite for destruction

after a show, you and axl just can’t get enough of each other.

warnings: smut, sensory deprivation

a/n: sorry it’s been so long guys!!! lack of motivation and writers block is a horrible combo. hope you guys like this!!!!!! (also this is exactly 900 words. isn’t that cool?)

“you looked so good tonight, babe.”

axl’s words penetrated your heart and your mind as you both scrambled to get into your hotel room. guns n roses had just played at saskatchewan place earlier on, and instead of going out to party with the other members of the band, axl only wanted to do one thing. spend some quality time with you.

his skin was still sweaty from the two hour show he had played, but you didn’t care. those two hours had been agonising for you - watching your boyfriend sing and dance just metres in front of you and absorbing his stage presence that just commanded respect and not being able to do anything about it. you had crossed your legs and hoped for the best, but that didn’t do much for you. you prayed that no one noticed the subtle action, as you knew if someone did, you might never hear the end of it.

you kissed axl with fervour, now lost in the heat of the moment. he returned your passion easily. he guided you over to the bed, letting you fall onto it with a soft ‘thump!’. the loss of contact made you whine, and you turned onto your stomach to watch your boyfriend draw the curtains, the minimal light coming in from the moon and city lights now cut off.

“c’mere.” you said, looking at the silhouette just a few steps in front of you.

axl didn’t say anything back, instead moving to turn on one of the bedside lamps. you could see him again now. sure, the light was dim, but you liked that. it provided an intimate ambiance that a brighter light wouldn’t be able to give you. and it made axl look even more incredible. the understated yellow glow made his features look more soft, more warm. he almost looked vulnerable.

he came and sat beside you, his tender gaze stopping your thoughts in their tracks. you sat up and he leaned in to kiss you. this time though, it was a lot more gentle. the desperation of before was now replaced with something more affectionate and slow. the room with was quiet, the smack of his lips meeting yours the only sound.

disappointment hit you again when he pulled away. you looked at him with sad eyes, but those feelings were taken over by curiosity when your boyfriend asked you, “can i try something?”

“what is it?”

axl took off his blue bandana. you quickly realised where this was headed, blush rising to your cheeks. he tied it round the back of your head with ease, your eyes now covered.

“what do you think?” he asked.

“it’s… new. i like it. what are you gonna do now?”

“you’ll see.”

wow. that was hot. then, before you could think, axl was undressing you. you didn’t say anything, looking forward to what was to come. the slow drag of his fingertips on your skin as he removed your underwear was infuriatingly slow, but you continued to be silent with anticipation. you trusted him to make you feel amazing.

it started with small licks taken at the most annoying, leisurely pace you’d ever experienced. the sensation was welcome by you of course, but you couldn’t help but wish for more in your head.

axl continued at the same speed, occasionally breaking to whisper how you ‘taste so damn good’ and ‘are just fucking breathtaking’ - compliments that made you see stars. it was that which caused your first of many orgasms, and as your high crashed down over you, you felt like you’d reached a whole other dimension.

and that carried on for ages. axl, with his tongue, bringing you to worlds you didn’t even know existed. you didn’t remember exactly when he gripped onto your hand, but it helped ground you after so many orgasms. if you could’ve strung together coherent sentences, you probably would’ve begged for mercy, but you were so lost in the feeling to even think about anything but him. and he revelled in it. you couldn’t see his shit-eating grin, but you could feel it, as the corners of his mouth progressed farther and farther upwards on his cheeks the more time he spent between your thighs.

and then he stopped. you felt a mix of relief and disappointment as his lips departed from your skin. he untied the bandana, and as you looked at him for the first time in god knows how long, you were stunned. he was just beautiful. with his little smirk and his lips coated in the aftermath of your overstimulation, and the way he looked at you with both overwhelming lust and complete adoration. he should be photographed and shown in a museum, you thought. that was just how gorgeous he was.

“well?” he asked, his smirk telling you he already knew your answer.

“fuck… that was… jesus, axl, it was brilliant.”

he laughed. a cocky, but endearing laugh. it was just as beautiful as him.

“i’m glad. you ready for more?”

your eyes widened. more? you weren’t sure you could handle even the thought of more, let alone the action.

but the way your boyfriend looked you, the way the dim yellow light shone on him… you couldn’t help but want it.

[mejaemin]

sip - jake sim

day seven of my valentine’s day countdown! ♡

wc: 0.7k

summary: post vday date with jake, you wind down with legos and cooking together ♡

warnings: alcohol, fluff, there’s definitely some errors here…

an: ermmmm pretend this was posted on the correct date !!! i’m only like 10 minutes late so shh…. anyways tysm to my anna @chenlezip for requesting this !!! i’m sorry it’s SO doodoobuns i was just so stuck on it for some reason 😓😓 you get a free request ticket to try again and let me redeem myself !!!

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

you’re leaning against the bottom of the couch, giving your back a rest after sitting on the floor hunched over for an hour. your knees crack as you finally extend your legs, able to relax after focusing for so long. jake is next to you, one hand kneading your shoulder while the other twirls the stem of a wine glass between his fingers. you both just finished your final valentine’s day activity, building a bouquet of lego roses together. it was a perfect way to wind down after being out all day, walking around and being on your feet for a shopping date.

the day has been nothing short of heavenly, sharing a breakfast date with jake before stopping at a lego store (your surprise/present to him). you both picked out your own gifts, varying from matching figurines to sets that will probably take a week to get done. he pulled the roses out as soon as your shoes were off, holding it in his hands and bouncing off his feet like an excited little boy. it was too cute and charming to say no to, which led to where you are now, an admittedly beautiful bouquet of lego roses sitting in front of you and a fair amount of back pain.

you take his glass, too lazy to grab your own from the coffee table and take a sip. when you hand it back to him, he puts it next to your own and blows out the candles that were decorating the table.

he pulls you into his arms, kissing your cheek. “i’ve had so much fun today, seriously. thank you for doing this with me.”

“you say that like i didn’t want to. i really enjoyed it too, jaeyunie.” you return the favor, instead pressing a kiss to his already pursed lips, “my back is really tired though.. let’s do it at the table next time, ‘kay?”

jake rubs your shoulder one more time as an apology, and after a few seconds of silence he stops and speaks up, “are you hungry?”

you turn to him, slowly nodding your head. “yeah.. we didn’t get to eat anywhere after the time it took in the lego store.”

he pouts, “sorry.. i was just too excited, y’know? can’t help myself.” he grabs your hand, leading you to the kitchen where he sits you down at his island before stepping to the other side.

a smile grows on your face to match his own, watching as he reaches into the cabinet to pull out something you can’t see, followed by going to the one over and pulling out a bottle of wine. he turns around, laying it out in front of you.

“what do you think?” his grin is crooked, smirking like he’s about to become a world renowned chef for the meal in front of you; carbonara buldak with wine.

your smile widens, shaking your head in a mix of disbelief and amusement. “perfect.” it’s not exactly gourmet, however it’s one of jake’s best, and after a long day, something simple and comforting is just what you need.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

a glass or three later, your boyfriend finally gets the water boiling. you help him crush the noodles and prepare the rice, seeing as he’s too busy sipping and making you laugh, his only excuse being that ‘you’re too pretty for me to focus on cooking’. thus, you’re bumping hips with him as you help put the dish together, his hands over yours as you mix in the flavor packets and extra cream.

after you finally did all the dirty work, which was basically everything, he ushered you to sit down so he could plate it. he pulls out a pair of deep plates and chopsticks, pouring the noodles in as neatly as possible. with as much of a show as possible, he sprinkles your garnish of choice before sliding a plate and finally sitting down next to you.

you take the first bite, and he’s watching you expectantly with a glow that hasn’t left his face all day. when you nod, he sighs in relief, “oh, good, it’s good then? i was worried it’d taste gross or something.”

“yeah, even though i did almost everything right? you didn’t help much, did you, hm?” you tease, and he immediately begins protesting with a mouthful of food, and you end the day with a dynamic full of happiness and easygoing humor that matches the joy and spontaneity in your everyday relationship.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

perm taglist: @chenlezip @coquettejunnie

[woozinhos]

omgggg the woo one was so cute!! can we get the same with jongho??

Notes: sorry I just have to write every Ateez request I get I’m like AHHH anyways enjoy this cutie

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.

You and Jongho had been trying for a baby for a while, and you were starting to think it might never happen. But one day, you noticed that you were feeling more tired than usual and your period was late. You took a test, and to your surprise, it was positive. You couldn't believe it, but you were so happy. You knew Jongho would be over the moon when you told him. You waited until he got home from work, trying to contain your excitement as you waited for him in the living room. When he walked through the door, you held up the test with a big smile on your face.

"Guess what?" you said. Jongho's eyes widened as he saw the test in your hand. "No way," he said, walking over to you in disbelief. "Are you serious?"

You nodded, tears of joy streaming down your face. "I'm pregnant," you confirmed. "We're going to have a baby." Jongho let out a loud whoop and scooped you up in his arms, spinning you around in circles. "This is amazing!" he exclaimed, setting you down and peppering your face with kisses. "I'm so happy, baby. You have no idea."

You laughed and hugged him tightly, feeling overwhelmed with happiness. "I can't believe it," you said, resting your head on his chest. "We're going to be parents. We're going to have a little Jongho or Y/N running around." Jongho smiled and placed his hand on your stomach, gently rubbing it. "I can't wait to meet them," he said softly. "I'm going to be the best dad I can be, I promise." Jongho hugged you tightly, his arms wrapping around you protectively. He buried his face in your neck, inhaling your scent as he held you close.

"I love you so much," he murmured, his voice filled with emotion. "You have no idea how much this means to me. Thank you for giving me this gift." As the hug continued, you heard soft sobs coming from Jongho. You pulled back slightly, looking at him with concern.

"Hey, what's wrong?" you asked, wiping away his tears. "Why are you crying?" Jongho sniffled and looked at you with teary eyes. "I'm just so happy," he said, his voice trembling. "I'm happy and scared and overwhelmed all at once. I never thought I could feel this much love for someone."

You smiled and cupped his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing away his tears. "It's okay to feel all those things," you reassured him. "I'm feeling the same way. We're going to be a family, Jongho. We'll get through this together." Jongho nodded, taking a deep breath to compose himself. "You're right," he said, leaning into your touch. "We can do this. I have you by my side, and that's all I need." Jongho looked at you with a mix of disbelief and gratitude. A small laugh escaping his lips. "We tried for so long, and it didn't seem like it was going to happen. But now it has, and it feels like a dream come true."

He took your hands in his, his fingers intertwining with yours. "I'm so grateful for you, Y/N. You're the reason this is happening. You're the love of my life." You smiled and squeezed his hands, feeling your heart swell with love for him. "And you're the love of mine," you replied. "I can't wait to see our baby grow and watch them grow up with you by my side." Jongho pulled you into another hug, his arms wrapped tightly around you once more. "I'm going to be the proudest dad ever," he declared. "I'm going to spoil our child rotten."

You laughed and playfully smacked his arm. "Don't spoil them too much, or they'll turn out just like you," you teased. Jongho chuckled and pretended to be offended. "Hey, what's wrong with that?" he asked, grinning. "I'm awesome." Jongho kissed the top of your head, a content sigh escaping his lips. He held you close, relishing in the feeling of having you in his arms and knowing that you were carrying his child.

"I'm the luckiest man alive," he whispered, his breath tickling your ear. "I don't know what I did to deserve you, but I'm glad I did it."

[inevitably-johnlocked]

hellooo! :3 (again)

just in case you wanted to make a new reichenbach fall fix-it fic-rec list.... this is your sign. (no worries if not - i will look through your masterpost)

(i would theoretically be interested in a fic where sherlock DOESN'T get all cleaned up and shaven and blah bblah blah... i think if he had showed up as the unkempt broken man he was after two years of beating and trauma... john would NEVER have punched him like he did in TEH.

or where john is so fucking angry indeed but... idk kisses sherlock very angrily/ aggressively and THEN they talk

OR where it is all canon-compliant but the carriage scene with the bomb... is much... more... (words come to me!) idk just less toxic? sherlock not fuckinG LAUGING after john forgave him (which he surely took back after the bomb never went off... he was probably even more pissed after sherlock messed so rudely with him

but that is only theoretically...)

if you don't wanna make such a list would you still take this austrian deliciousness called marillekrapfen i am absolutely craving right now?

okay thanks byeee

(HOW do i always leave such long asks... i am sorry!)

Hi Lovely!!

I ACTUALLY just recently posted a Post TRF list back in December so I don't have anything new to suggest, but here are all of my TRF and Hiatus Fic lists currently:

Post-TRF Divergence

Post-TRF No Mary (Jan 2023)

Reverse Reichenbach

Reverse Reichenbach Pt. 2

John Jumps Instead of Sherlock in TRF

John Fakes his Death

Reunion and Other Post TRF Fics

Reunion and Other Post TRF Fics Pt. 2

Reunion and Other Post-TRF Fics Pt. 3

Reunion and Other Post-TRF Fics Pt. 4 (Dec 2024)

John Finds Out About Hiatus

John Joins Sherlock During Hiatus

Sherlock Returns from Hiatus Injured 

Serbia / Aftermath of Hiatus Fics

The Empty Hearse-Related Fics

As for your specific requests, nothing immediately comes to mind unfortunately, oof, so hopefully peeps have stuff to suggest for those!!

And as for marillekrapfen, I had NO idea what they were and OMG they remind me of OUR jelly filled doughnuts but... yummier I guess?? LOL. Now I want one!!! Hee hee.

And YOU'RE ALL GOOD, I love longs asks, I just take a bit longer to get to them, is all. Please never change, you're so amazing <3

[pokimoko]

Hello!! May I request a non-binary platypus? :D

"A platypus?" *platypus picks up flag* "Gasp! A nonbinary platypus!"

[luckycharms1701]

*comes into ask how with a shaky smile*

Howdy there Hon. I hope the New Years been treating you alright so far, and I wish that it will continue to bless you with the goodness you deserve ✨🧡

Sorry to bother your inbox again, but this is “Independent Woman” from a request a couple weeks ago and I've had kind of a rough day, and your writing always makes me smile.

If it's not too much to ask, may I request a follow-up on that prompt please? How the Bayverse/Rise boys would react to their stubbornly independent SO having a rough day to the point that they cave and ask for cuddles?

No stress, no worries if you're not in the mood for it. I totally understand. Please take care of yourself first and foremost! Please drink water and know you are appropriated! 🧡✨

howdy anon-chan! 🧡

i'm so sorry that you've had a rough day. i hope at this point it's going a little better and that you're able to get the rest you need. there's a quote that i like to think about when i'm having a rough time: "Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says I'll try again tomorrow." -Mary Anne Radmacher

anyway, i hope this helps you smile!

(here's the other post)

Leonardo

Leo has been waiting for (hoping for, praying for) this, for you to come to him in your time of need. He feels bad, he doesn't actually want you to have a bad time or a rough day, but at the same time he loves to be needed. He already has a plan in place.

Mikey scampers off at his signal, and Leo escorts you to his room. There he encourages you to get under the covers and mess up his bed however you need to in order to get comfy.

Then he climbs in with you and holds you. He doesn't ask about what's wrong, doesn't try to talk to you about anything. He can tell that isn't what you need right now.

Mikey comes in (quietly for once) with some tea. He sets the tray down on the bedside table and smiles at you before quickly leaving. Leo tells you that the tea is there if you want it, then goes back to quietly holding you.

You realize, after laying in his arms for a while, that he is meditating. You try to match your breathing to his, and you see a small smile steal across his face when he feels what you are doing. You fell right into his trap.

The two of you breathe in sync for a while, just soaking in each other's presence.

If you decide to talk about it, Leo listens very closely to you. He's not confident that it will happen, but he hopes that you'll tell him if it's something he can help with. No matter what though, if you just need to vent or need advice or need him to do something for you, he will respect your wishes.

Raphael

Raph's first instinct is to find out who hurt you so that he can go take care of them. Fortunately, he goes with his second instinct, which is to bundle you in his arms and carry you to his room.

Once there, he climbs into bed and rearranges the two of you until you are both comfortable. He makes sure you are completely covered with him, his strong hands rubbing your back. "I've got ya sweetheart. What do ya need?"

Raph isn't quite confident in his ability to comfort you, so he does need some guidance. But once you let him know what you need, he's on top of it.

If you just want to curl up on his plastron and be held, he will stay with you as long as you need. He will rub your back. He will be your own personal weighted blanket. Gentle touches or rough hugs, hell if you need him to distract you he will. Anything for you.

(Raph finds that he wants to give you the gentle touches. He wants to hold you gently, he wants to show you softness. But if that's not what you need, he'll just have to talk to you about it later. This ain't about him.)

If you want to talk about it, if you need to vent, Raph'll listen. He'll empathize. He might growl or mutter as you talk, but he won't interrupt. If you want advice, he'll do his best to give it to you.

Anything you need, he'll get it for you. Drink, food, more pillows? It's there almost before you ask for it. You won't have to lift a finger or do anything if you don't want to. "I'll take care of you princess."

Donatello

Donnie immediately has so many questions, but he sets them aside. You asked him to help you learn how to be cared for, so he's going to do just that.

He takes to the lab, because the bed there is comfier than the one in his room. He puts on some music you like and turns down the volume. He encourages you to climb in and climbs in behind you. He lays down and lets you climb on him however you want.

Once the two of you are comfortable, he asks if you want to talk about it. He realizes that you need to be guided into asking for what you want, and he's prepared to do that. Your answer is the beginning of the mental flow chart Donnie created specifically for caring for you.

If you do want to talk about it, Donnie first asks if you want advice or if you just want to vent. Once that's established, he is an active listener. He asks questions and gives you nudges if he thinks you need it. He'll make those snarky comments that make you laugh. He checks in periodically to make sure that you're still okay. Talking to Donnie will always make you feel better.

If you don't want to talk about it, that's okay too. He'll ask if there's anything you need, then send the drone to zap Raph into getting it for you. Once Raph is gone (rubbing his arm and muttering murderously), Donnie settles in for a nice long cuddle session with you.

If you're okay with it, he pulls up some work. He asks if you want a distraction, and if so he'll start telling you about what he's doing. Donnie works with one hand while the other absentmindedly rubs your arm. He still checks in every once in a while to make sure you're okay and ask if you need anything.

Michelangelo

Mikey, much like Leo, hates that you're upset but is so happy that you came to him so he could care for you. This is a huge step, you're making progress! Now it's his turn to make progress, to show you how he can care for you.

He asks if you need anything first, so he can grab it without interrupting the "epic cuddle session" you're about to have. (Later, when you ask him to get you something, he'll interrupt the cuddle session anyway with zero complaints. He just wants you to be happy.)

Once that's all taken care of, he hustles you off to his room, hand on your back. Thank the pizza gods that Leo had forced him at sword point to clean it the day before. You both get in bed and get comfy.

He holds you as if you are a treasure, a beloved teddy bear. It is hard to believe that Mikey can be this gentle. He wraps you in blankets and props you up with pillows until you are surrounded in softness and him.

Then he starts to talk. He chatters on about anything and everything, whatever comes to mind. His skateboard tricks, their latest encounter with the Foot, Raph breaking his most recent lifting record... you are caught up on ALL the turtle gossip.

Mikey doesn't stop until he gets a smile out of you. When he sees it, his answering smile lights up the room. He asks if you are feeling better. If you are, he starts being silly, kissing your face and tickling you until you are crying from laughter. If you aren't, he asks if you want to talk about it. He'll listen and commiserate with you, and support you no matter what.

[jeonsupershy]

Hi. Do you think you can do a compilation of Wonwoo smile? Thank you!

hi anon! here you go 💌

[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♡