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

[likelysobbing]

nah let reader get her lick back now cause I can’t have us going down like this. Reader needs to get with one of the team immediately but it’s not like no rebound things it’s fr serious and Paige cannot stand it but who cares anymore?

𖥻 STUNNED. azzi fudd x reader x ex!paige bueckers (for the streets 2)

synopsis: paige’s eyes are on other girls, so azzi’s eyes sure as hell won’t let off of you now—and they’re the loveliest you’ve ever had the honor to look back at.

notes: RAHHH here it is! FOR THE STREETS part 2 ! hi nonnie! this is lightly, lightly, lightly LIGHTLY based off a song called makasarili malambing by hev abi and kristina dawn. sorry this took so long i was receiving my education! also, 3k+ words. if u read this u better read it all the way…tell me what u think too. i love interaction hehehe. also, i tried not to make paige suffer VIVIDLY, because i feel like it hurts more for player!paige to just silently regret #EL EM AY OH. thank u. also i put emphasis on eyes (adoration), the color green (envy), and make a lot of references to the previous fic. it’s linked on this post so go on and read it if you haven’t already <3 also, tagging @elalfywhore as per request hehe. hope you guys like it.

cw: READER’S A BIT OF A BITCH AT FIRST, But ends up folding because no one resists azzi bro, readers sassy, azzi is insistent, paige has avoidant attachment issues, no distinct establishment of a relationship but there is an implication of azzi and reader being more and both parties being okay with that (except paige. paige didn’t consent), PLAYER!paige

azzi always watched you.

you ignored it, especially while you were with paige—but she always watched you. azzi’s eyes seemed to favor trailing down your body more than anything else. whenever you ran into her and paige, back when you were still a couple, you had always kissed paige on the cheek—and azzi nearly leaned in everytime you approached her for a hug; maybe she expected a kiss on the cheek too— that’s funny, actually. but that’s unlikely, right? you ignore it. there was no way. no way she could have had any sort of interest in you.

especially now that you’ve practically estranged yourself from paige and her friends; that includes the basketball team. you haven’t said anything to them beyond ‘hi’ , ‘bye’ and ‘have a good day’—and they know why. they understand why. who wouldn’t want to do the equivalent of bury themselves in a hole if their ex girlfriend who they were so intent on marrying ended it all through a phone call while getting head from another woman? come on. you were sure they understood.

included in this very obvious mass-in-real-life-ghosting phase was none other than paige’s closest friend, miss goo goo eyes, miss azzi fuckin’ fudd.

you really tried to get her eyes off you, but it didn’t matter in the end.

azzi always watched you.

or like, maybe it was watch over instead of simply watch. watching over was more akin to what she did—she always checked in on you, maybe when she thought you weren’t looking her eyes would end up somewhere on your body that wasn’t necessarily scandalous—more so the space between your neck and shoulder or a collarbone. regardless, she had her eyes on you.

but watching you or not, you’re sure azzi didn’t mind you distancing yourself. you’re 100% sure she understood you being a bit too far to look at now? there was no need to dwell on it. you’re sure. you’re 100% sure.

… okay, well, maybe you’re 99.99% sure.

azzi sat across from paige, eyes slightly narrowing and widening as she felt the burn of yet another shot. the bass boomed in both of their ears, and each beat rung through their brain, but all azzi could focus on was that paige had let you go.

you. sweet, lovely, you.

she knew she wasn’t being slick when she watched you—her eyes always seemed to rake down every one of your features, and she wasn’t embarrassed about it. you were beautiful, and in paige’s arms you found your place. azzi couldn’t trespass on that—not because of paige, but because of you. you genuinely believed paige was inlove with you—pathetic, unheard of, even—but with how paige treated you, azzi began to believe it too… or she would’ve, if she knew paige less.

azzi didn’t rain on your parade of delusions hemmed by paige’s beautifully sown in lies.

but she wouldn’t deny that you would look better with her.

“you’re thinking again.”

there it is; paige was never one to think a lot, so she always questioned why azzi did. her decisions spoke for themselves. azzi pokes the inside of her cheek with her tongue, tilting her head just enough to turn her nose up at paige, who grins like she knows what this look is. azzi always seem to come up with the craziest shit, and right now—paige’s excited to see what she comes up with next.

“what you thinking of?” uconn’s number five asks, that drunken lilt unmistakable as she balanced speaking to uconn’s #35 and getting a lap dance from the girl she beckoned over (she knew nothing about her besides the fact she had a nice ass). azzi shakes her head, one side of her lips quirking up. that mystery only serves to make paige even more curious—as always, she doesn’t think twice about digging deeper.

“nah, come on, there’s something—“

“no, paige,”

“there’s someone.”

well, azzi can’t deny that, can she?

so, she burrows deeper into her seat and looks away. paige points at her like she just connected all the dots, going “oh!” like a frat boy surprised that his hunch was even correct. “who’s she?”

“she’s a she.”

“she’s a she and her name is what?”

“she.”

“that’s not a name, bro—“

“how do you know she isn’t a name?”

“bro. don’t do this. i’m drunk.”

by this point, azzi’s (a little bit!) drunk too. there’s adrenaline in her veins; sprinkle in that crazy audacity that paige seems to have all the time, and she could simply say what’s on her mind right now. or, maybe she should just say it to get it off her chest.

“your ex.” azzi murmurs. paige’s eyes darken, flickering from the common deviousness azzi’s so familiar with to something genuine she can’t seem to place. her jaw tightens, smile faltering just enough to make azzi’s own quirk up.

the lights flicker from red, yellow, green and purple randomly. by this point, she’s used to the strain—shes even memorized the pattern. the lights are going from red, to yellow, green, purple— purple again. so why … is paige all green?

“sorry, i don’t mean to impose,” was what she said to you first. you couldn’t even register she was near you at all. why was she even here, sitting next to you in a nearly empty library she’d probably benefit more studying alone in? you weren’t even in the same major. if she had a test to study for, you’d be of no help.

it was stupid of you to even assume studying was on her mind.

she just… did her own thing. in silence. she didn’t push, didn’t press, didn’t— she didn’t do anything. she was just on her phone. why was she in the library if she didn’t have any work to do? she had a whole friendgroup—maybe she did it to get away from them? wait, but why would she need to get away from them? did she need to hide? was she annoyed? why would she be annoyed? well, you don’t suppose it was paige, paige would definitely be quite an annoyance—

“yes?”

her voice is soft. softer than a feather landing on your skin. yet, like a feather, amidst how light her voice is—you feel it. it’s one word, but it takes just that to make you feel the one feeling you know will lead to more than multiple disasters.

interest.

you are interested in her.

azzi fudd’s big brown eyes were something you (and anyone in your place) could only resist for so long, and with one bat of her eyelashes and the flash of her sweet smile that—oddly—didn’t leave a bitter taste in your mouth. atleast, not like it usually did. you never saw her as anything more than paige’s bestfriend who was kind of into you (but also simultaneously there was no way she was into you because she was so pretty).

“you’ve been silent for the past two minutes.”

you blink. “… sorry.”

azzi smiles, again, and this time— you can’t help but smile back.

but it’s not that serious, isn’t it? there’s no harm in introducing new people into your life. there’s no harm even if it’s your ex’s bestfriend who’s watched you with for so long, and with such pretty eyes. there’s like, literally no harm.

you wouldn’t let there be any harm. you could open your heart to her a little. deal with her presence if it’s constant. bite back when needed, push away when called for, right?

“that’s okay.” she replies to you smoothly, looking back at her phone. “—just haven’t seen you in a while, you know.” she offers, and you freeze up. she doesn’t stop speaking. “i kind of.. missed you being close. like i get why—i understand, too, i just— you know..”

“yeah, i know you know. paige wasn’t really subtle with the breakup.” you murmured, ��did she send you here to check on me, azzi?”

azzi blinks, scandalized by the accusation. “what… no? i don’t—i would never. i’m not like her— i mean, not like that— i just.. wanna be here?”

you raise an eyebrow, skeptically. “at this specific library?” and azzi inhales, “please don’t make me say what i know you know already.”

“i know a lot of things. but i don’t know what you think i know.”

“don’t you?”

“do i?”

“i just wanna be with you.”

that was easier to get out than you expected. hm, okay. okay— you tilt your head. “you’ve been with me enough, with how much you seem to hang around paige.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“it means i’ve only ever known you as one of her minions.”

azzi’s eyes widen, and she nearly gasps—once again— SCANDALIZED, by your statement—but she doesn’t. infact, you don’t expect what she does—because she takes your jab in stride.

“wooow, minions, huh? okay, well—why don’t you try to get to know me beyond it?”

“i’d actually rather not. i know who you hang out with.”

“just because i hang out with her doesn’t mean—“

you interrupt her with the zip of your backpack and the slam! of your books closing. “you’re all talk. you never act.”

azzi tries to cut you off with a little “hey, wait—“, her hand on your wrist, her eyes wide and pleading but you do not budge.

you shake her hand off your wrist when she tries to stop you from standing up. it’s the perfect picture of cold ruthlessness you know paige doesn’t believe you have—and you know what? if azzi is going to act like a messenger pigeon, which you assume she is, then you’re going to make sure she has a lot to say to paige when she comes back.

unbeknownst to you, azzi looks at what was once your chair and frowns. she feels your absence more than paige does. more than paige ever will.

and it stings. both for you, and her.

she comes to you again. this time, you’re in another library, and somehow she has enough devotion to presumably ruining your life that she finds you. she smiles when she sees you, waving with a tiny ‘hello’.

you place your bag onto the chair next to you and go back to work. you’re in the zone, there’s nothing stopping you— apparently besides the girl plopping your bag down onto the (dirty!) floor. how rude. how does she have the nerve to sit next to you? why does she still think you’re good? she may want to ‘be in your presence’ but who said anything about you wanting to be in hers? what the hell does she think shes doing?

“i think maybe you should let me tell you what i’m doing here.”

“i actually think you should leave.”

“i’ve only sat next to you twice.”

“twice too many.”

theres a silence on the other end and you think you won. you can’t help the smile on your face—the rejection felt good, in a sort of cruel way. azzi didn’t have any part in you and paige’s downfall, but she did stand by and watch it—you—burn.

so you’d set fire to whatever she was dreaming of in return.

“i always thought you looked better with me.”

record scratch.

“you’re crazy.”

“i am not.” she replies, “just a tad bit tipsy.”

“it’s nine pm?” you scoff, and she shrugs, “pre-game. anyway, i mean it. i always thought you looked better with me. you would, wouldn’t you?”

this time, you leave in a hurry. there’s literally nothing but ‘evacuate’ in your head as you rush to pack your bags, spouting whatthefuckwhatthefuck in your brain as azzi, realizing the utter stupidity of her actions, begins to flail her arms around directionless as she tries to stop you from leaving again.

“okay maybe that was a little bit uncalled for, i’m sorry let me rephrase—“

“no, i am not letting you— and no, i do not wanna find out. you got me fucked all the way up—“

“listen, okay, i just think you’ve always been out of her league—“ she tries to reason, and you look at her incredulously.

“you’re talking about paige bueckers.” you say, back now turned to azzi as you begin to walk out.

azzi shakes her head, already toeing behind you— “i’m talking about my close friend. one who couldn’t see your worth— please, will you let me try again? god, i’m sorry— you’re just so pretty, okay? and you’re so fucking sweet, you have such a pretty face and i just can’t help but look at you—“

“that is so creepy, azzi.”

“it is! i’m sorry!” she whines, obviously more than tipsy, “i’m sorry! just—“ she takes you by the hand, and you freeze up because it’s been quite a while since you’ve had physical contact that had even a smidge of romantic intent, and when you look back— god, there it is.

big, brown eyes.

looking right at you, a tad bit glossy—wide, and paired with by far the prettiest pout you’ve ever seen. “please.” she whispers, keeping in mind how you’re technically still in the library and she’s been looked at thrice for her theatrics—“please? just… let me hang around. i’m not going to force anything i just—want to know you.”

you’re stunned.

you’re in no state to properly answer; your mind is going a mile a minute, and so in desparation to just speak— you speak with your heart.

“nnn… okay.”

that was your heart. it forgot all reason, dignity, and self respect, apparently.

maybe azzi giving you a wide, toothy smile was worth it though.

“you’re seeing her?” paige repeated, some drink she forgot the name of swirling in her cup. azzi nodded, “figured she’d need something soft to land on.” she murmured, and though her words seemed casual—there was more meaning to them than paige could understand. azzi’s tone was expectant, hopeful—she wanted something to bloom between the two of you—something nice. pretty. good.

“and what is that? your chest?” paige’s reply interrupts her, and though she tries to sound teasing—she sounds more... irritated.

“maybe.” azzi grins.

“get outta here.” paige scoffs, taking another swig of her drink as she slumps back into her chair. “you can have her, it’s whatever bro. liter-ally whatever.”

“mhm.”

azzi’s nonchalance only bothers paige even more.

“i hope you understand i’m not ready yet.” was the first thing you said right after that awkward moment back at the library, “for a relationship, i mean. like, this fast.” you clarified.

azzi nodded, bouncing off you well, “oh, me too—you don’t need to see me as a threat. i just want to know you. i know it’s going to be hard, considering well.. your ex is my best friend. paige doesn’t mind—“ she pauses, before trying to reword. “i mean that—“

“oh, that’s fine. i can tell she doesn’t.” you wave it off, and azzi just smiles apologetically as she continues. “even if it’s hard on the both of us, i want to see where this goes. i’ve watched you too long to not want to be close.” azzi shyly murmurs, before trying to rekindle a lighter atmosphere— “just don’t get sassy with me, okay? i don’t like fighting with you.”

it’s been five months now. since she’s said that.

specifically, since azzi began to try to woo you. every flower she gave was always your favorite one, every ramble you graced her with was met with actual listening ears and comprehension, and nearly every thing you wanted? you had it in your hands the next day. azzi wasted no time in trying to show you she in fact, wasn’t like bueckers (who seemed to be meaner these past weeks, impossibly)—you never had to doubt her.

like actually. you never had to doubt azzi.

she didn’t knock on your door three times, but she was… special. enough. to have a key by the third month. she didn’t look you in the eye all that much, too shy to properly maintain it, but you knew she watched over you anyway. and when she held your hand, she was the one that squeezed first.

even if she hasn’t popped the question yet, there is no doubt in your mind that she’s yours already. she may have had grandeur, but unlike paige, she did not let it define her love for you. no, she won you over by the littlest things. the things that mattered.

its been five months now. since she’s said that.

and it’s felt like… six / seven … years?

however long it’s been, you know there’s a connection. and azzi knows too, because why wouldn’t she? she somehow knows everything. there’s always solutions to problems with her, always an answer to a math equation or an existential crisis— its all so different.

different from paige, you mean.

with azzi, you’re always… stunned— from how much effort she puts in, how bright her smile is, how she never seems to not have time for you—hell, you’re stunned whenever you see her. you know there’s something there, but you don’t know who’s going to make a move first—or atleast, when she is.

you don’t know if you should care at all. you don’t know if you should put yourself first, or if you even have real questions. you can’t even ask azzi like you’ve formed a habit of doing because she somehow always says the right things—you can’t even muster up a question for her: what would you say? ‘bro please kiss me already?’ no way.

“you ready to go?” azzi’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you blink to see her holding her hand out. ah, that’s right— you’re hanging out tonight. she’s taking you to her favorite spot across the town—that’s nice. you can’t wait to be with her.

you have so many questions you can’t muster, but maybe you don’t need to ask. maybe you just need to feel—her touch lingers far more than it stays, always tingling on your arm or your back; her absence causes you more heartache than you’d like; … it’s just her. maybe there are no more questions. maybe you don’t have questions, but either way, azzi has answers. she might as well be the answer to everything, actually. maybe there’s no need to dwell, no need to label it yet—lord knows what azzi wants.

you take azzi’s hand and she squeezes it first like she always does. it makes you smile wider this time.

this time, love is kind to you. it is soft and slow and yet passionate all the same. you don’t know where it might lead but the look in her eyes is worth it. this tenderness is worth it.

and you’re not afraid, wherever this might lead you.

paige bueckers.

big name. legendary name, even. yet she’s not as big and bad as shes made herself out to be right now. not at all.

in the same booth she was a few months ago, paige now sits alone. there are girls aching to get home with her, and she’s half-picking who should get that honor—but she’s trying to distract herself more.

the lights go red, to yellow, green, purple—purple again. so why does she feel so green?

envy is a rattle snake, and it wraps around her entire body. it squeezes tight, cutting circulation off to the point she’s so stiff she might explode— but it’s not because of you and azzi.

it’s not.

not even when her jaw clenches at the thought of you. and azzi. azzi is her bestfriend, and when she outright admitted to thinking about making moves on you—paige brushed it off with a laugh and a playful “she can’t even talk to half of us, bro—i got her heart broken … or like heartbroken or something.” but now, here she is.

and she’s not heart broken. shes not even bothered at all. she’s not.

she just doesn’t like to see you so close. why would she want you close? she’s done her time. pulled you in closer. you always burrowed in deep, she felt you in her heart. maybe that’s what sickened her— the feeling of endearment. you tried to reach your way in, but to paige it felt like you were tearing her apart—ripping her to shreds to crush the organ in your hands and make the victory against her sweeter.

she’s not heart broken. why would she be? there’s no one here breaking her heart.

there’s no one she lets close enough to even have a shot at it.

there is only her. and while she may not accept it, especially now? now that you are gone? now that she’s driven you away like she once did with every other girl who’s ever tried to come close—although you came closest—who came her way?

paige bueckers.

big name. legendary name, even.

but her heart breaks, and she’s the one breaking it.

@likelysobbing.

[sillyuin]

Vernon as boyfriend

Genre: fluff, fluff, fluff.

Pairing: Vernon x reader.

Warnings: no proofread.

Yuin's note: Requested! It took me longer that expected as I've been really busy, but is finally here! Hope you like it and thanks for the request, hope you like it ♥

Bf! Vernon, who was excited when you agreed to go on a date with him, but was very quiet during it “I’m sorry, I’m just… It feels weird, doesn’t it? Going out… But not as friends… I like it”.

Bf! Vernon, who likes to be flirty and gets shy the moment you start laughing. It makes him cringe but you look so happy that he's willing to do it just for that.

Bf! Vernon, who likes to go out and try different places, but loves to stay at home: just the two of you, a delicious dinner, some snacks and that movie you both have been talking about the whole week.

Bf! Vernon, who isn’t a big fan of physical touch, but you are the only exception. He loves your touch! Call it a small peck on the cheeks or a long, warm hug, he never gets tired of feeling that close to you.

Bf! Vernon, who listens carefully when you’re worried or sad about something, and will give you good advice if needed. “It’s okay baby, you can do this. And whatever you choose, just don’t forget that I won’t let you fall”.

Bf! Vernon, who joins without hesitating to any of your antics. You bought a new shadow eye palette and wanna try it? He’s your model. Did you prepare for lunch a recipe you found on tiktok? He’s your personal taster. Vernon just finds it hard (for not saying impossible) to say no to his babe.

Bf! Vernon, who stares at you with those eyes that screams love and smiles fondly as if he’s dating the most precious person to ever exist, and somehow it’s true, because you’re his cherished diamond.

[etherealrin]

hiii its my first time requesting buttt i really love your works, so i was listening to paranoia by the marias and i was wondering if you could write a jealous rin itoshi to the point it was draining, resulting in a very angsty breakup thank you soso muchh 😭😭

. ♬ ݁˖ paranoia?

tw: toxic relationship, controlling … fem!reader, wc: 589

itoshi rin has a tendency to become obsessed with things he likes: first the horror games, then soccer, and his most recent niche happens to be you.

and in hindsight, you probably should have seen this coming.

his constant texts when you’re out alone with you’re friends. “are you safe? “come back soon.”

it had all seemed harmless at first, like he’d just cared about you. and his little fits of jealousy—where he’d go dead silent, a bit sulky, and ignore you whenever he thought you preferred a friend over him. you’d found that cute in the beginning too.

like a moth to a flame, you’d set up your own demise. no matter how much you tried to reassure him, sweet talk his insecurities out of him, he’d remained jealous, greener than the grass under your fingers you stare at now. but you’d thought it was fine, that he just loved you. no matter how controlling or difficult he could be, you’d forgive him. because he needs you.

you don’t even realize you’re picking at the foliage listening to him argue with you.

“swear he’s not anything to you,” rin pesters, his long eyelashes fluttering with each blink. “delete his contact!”

“rin, don’t you think that’s a little extreme? you know he has a girlfriend, and we’re just lab partners for this semester—if i don’t talk to him how will either of us pass the class?” the guy in question was a classmate, and you could tell he truly meant no harm, not to mention that you knew the girl he was dating. which you’d constantly reassured rin of for the past week.

“…give me your phone.” his teal eyes have gone cold. is this what you are to him now? some thing that he has to keep isolated at all costs? it’s ridiculous, hell you were with him every morning, evening, and night at this point—so why couldn’t he believe that you had no one else?

it’s even worse that there’s a small crowd forming around the two of you; because of course he had to pick a fight in the middle of your university campus. the onlookers are whispering amongst themselves, obviously waiting for someone to snap.

and you don’t hear the break, but it must’ve been you, because the next thing you know, there’s a rush of adrenaline, your mouth is opening and words are tumbling out faster than you can process.

“itoshi, i’m tired. it’s too much—whatever this is, it’s not healthy. for both you and i, it’s not. if you can’t get your paranoid ass together, no one else can do it for you! i can’t fix you!” you had never once spoken to him like that before. never openly admitted that he might not be alright, mentally.

rin’s standing too still. cold, emotionless. you see straight through his facade though, as much as he tries to keep his expression neutral, his eyes tell. that your words might have struck too close to home for him.

but you’re still mad, so you don’t—can’t—stop. “and honestly? it’s damn annoying. sorry itoshi, i can’t do this anymore. goodbye, and good luck.”

“w-wait! you don’t mean that…” his voice trails off, slowly twisting at the edges to pure hurt. it’s agonizing, letting his protests fall to deaf ears as he begins to follow you, though you have zero intention of stopping.

it’s been three months since. you tell yourself that it’s better for the both of you this way, like you’d told him then. but was it really, if rin still sends flowers to your front door once a month, on your old anniversary date, with a heart wrenching “take me back” folded into a paper heart attached to the blood red roses?

a/n: hii anon i’m so sorry this took me a while to get to! hopefully you like it :P + alternatively he could’ve called reader a “tepid piece of shit” but given how emotionally attached he was i think it results in a rare moment of public weakness (like in u20 ykyk).

now playing: paranoia by the marías, jealous by eyedress, dark red by steve lacy

masterlist.

[clouji]

Fortnite

+ hamzah x reader twitch streamer, fortnite, fluff

💟

You haven't streamed in a long time, so you're excited to play Fortnite and talk to all of your viewers. You have been queuing up for duos, but they're all bunz so far.

"Alright, chat," you shout, moving toward your microphone. "Let me see what random I get. Pray we get someone hot and cracked this time. Or someone whose microphone does not sound like it's been microwaved."

> imsogoated: manifesting a soulmate

> enhatt: im so happy ur streaming again y/n

> bananasummer: girl if he’s hot u better flirt!!!!

The loading screen fades. The lobby pops up. A name, Superspreader77, with a voice that breaks through, nonchalant and a bit raspy.

“Hello, Do you got a mic?”

You turned to the camera, covering your mouth. “Oh shit chat.”

“Excuse me?”

“Hi!!”

He laughs quietly and proudly. "Why, do I sound sexy?"

You choke on your drink. “No you sound like a loser.”

“Ouch.”

“Also you sound cocky and weird.”

“And you sound like a tryhard.”

You pause. "Okay, yeah so what.”

You marked Seaport City and dropped with your duo together. Both of you are still teasing each other.

He steals your holo twist gun. You hit him with a bat in revenge. He saves you from a third party and wants you to say Thank you. Instead, you say

"Fuck yourself."

He chuckles as if it's the funniest thing he heard all day.

"You're kinda mean," he says.

"You're kinda enjoying it."

"Maybe."

In middle of stream, the chat loses its mind.

> bananasummer: CAN U ASK IF HES HAMZAH PLS

> jj771: no bc that’s actually his voice omg

> 1234pop: THAT’S HAMZAH FROM SLUSHYNOOBZ WTF

> destiny: HAMZAH??

You took out your phone for a second to check what the chat was about, and then you searched for the name they were mentioning. You have mutuals, you saw what he looks like, and you nodded as you think he is.... cute.

You squint your eyes. "Hey… superspreader"

"Yeah?"

"My chat thinks you sound familiar."

"Oh?"

"They're saying you sound like Hamzah? from Slushynoobz."

Silence.

“Never heard of them. Is he cute?”

“Stop fucking around.”

“You think I’m Hamzah? Wow I'm so flattered.”

“You’re not denying it.”

“Do you think I’m him?” He repeated the question.

"I think you're a liar with surprisingly good aim."

He sighed. "Damn. You got me. You're scary."

"Woah so you're Hamzah... I've been roasting you for twenty minutes. Your fans might attack me."

He laughs. "Don't worry I'll protect you."

You cringed. “Ew. You like me don't you.”

“Hell nah, I'm interested in someone else already sorry,” he says smoothly. “And she keeps stealing my loot like look–right now.”

You won the match. Because of him. Both of you are stressing and laughing.

Then—he adds you.

No hesitation.

“Nice game,” he says. “Let's play again tomorrow?”

When a friend request shows up. You mute your microphone for a second just to scream then you click accept.

“Yeah. But next time, I’m stealing all of your loots and kills.”

He laughs. “Deal. As long as I get to play with you.”

You check chat.

> imsogoated: I’M CLIPPING THIS

> jj771: my two worlds colliding

> bananasummer: He's your dsstiny

You lean into your mic. “Chat. CHILL. It’s just one game.”

Hamzah’s voice cuts in: “ Well, you're never getting rid of me now.”

“I don't mind that actually.”

💟

[1-800-local-slut]

Hi jenny. I wanted to request if you could please do reader with the personality of april O'Neil from rise tmnt as mark grayson girlfriend . April O'Neil's powers primarily revolve around her enhanced psychic abilities and telekinetic skills, often stemming from her connection with the Aon crystal. These powers include the ability to sense danger, track telepathically, and even manifest telekinesis

Mystic energy manipulation: April wields a baseball bat imbued with mystic energy, magnifying the power behind her strikes when activated..

I just really live this April's personality since she's just a all around amazing and funny person to be around. She's just much better in personality compared to 2012 april but not to fully downgrade 2012 april.

Sort of just asking for dating headcanons and how they match each other's vibe together.

Ooo this looks fun! Thank you for the request beautiful! I'm sorry this took so long, I'm attempting to balance everything in my life rn. I appreciate your patience sooo much! I used to love TMNT growing up but grew out of cartoons by the time ROTTMNT came out. But it's been on my watch list for a while now!

Mark Grayson x Black! Superpowered! Reader

Warnings: mention of y'all arguing but nothing serious, just fluff and good vibes!

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺

🐢 Mark loves him some you, just like you love you some him.

🐢You two balance each other out. You're high energy, always on the go and full of life. Mark is on the calmer end. He's more likely to just sit quietly, give a few verbal warnings until he feels there's no more time for warnings

🐢You two are down for any and everything though. Usually your idea, such as going on a random road trip or seeing how much food you could hold in your mouths at one time

🐢"Babe I feel funny" Gf x "I told you not to eat that shit" Bf

🐢You bring a certain flavor to life that Mark had no clue he was missing out on

🐢 You do have a certain time when nonsense stops. Such as late at night, when Mark gets a random burst of energy but you're trying to sleep

"Babe do you ever think about the fact that there's a universe where I'm a girl and you're a man? Would it make it gay if I was still attracted to you in any universe? I mean I'd love you no matter what but-"

"Shut the fuck up!"

🐢Before you roll over and go back to sleep.

🐢Mark is the type of boyfriend to do anything for you. But he has a bad habit of using gifts instead of discussing feelings. You want to discuss him misplacing your bat again when you've told him multiple times that you can't get another one. Mark wants to give you a box of fancy chocolates from Switzerland and leave it at that

🐢Eventually he does get the hang of discussing feelings with you. He just can't help it, his dad very rarely said more about his feelings than 'I feel angry'/'I feel angry because I'm hungry'

🐢And with everything he's seen and done, he doesn't feel like he deserves to be vulnerable, sometimes he feels like the pain in his heart is a good motivator to save others

🐢You firmly disagree, always telling Mark that he's a good man. He helps from the kindness of his heart, not because of guilt. He deserves to be happy, you tell him that while kissing all over his face and nuzzling against his bruised skin.

🐢You have bad habits too. Getting trapped inside of your own head sometimes, rendering you unable to see when you're hurting the person you love. Mark has to sit you down sometimes and explain.

🐢You're very creative but sometimes you feel like you don't know yourself. So, you end up trying to explore yourself more, and sometimes it leads to you neglecting yourself and relationships

"I'm feeling hurt, it's like you don't want to spend any time with me. I understand you are trying to find yourself but there are better ways to go about it. I love you no matter what, I just need you to remember me while you're looking for you."

🐢You also don't like to hear when you're wrong, it shakes your sense of self just a bit

"That's not true! I just...okay. Maybe I have been a little bit out of sorts lately. I'm sorry baby."

🐢You two are still a loving couple regardless of the few flaws in the relationship

🐢You two like to pull pranks on each other, but it came to an end after Mark accidentally pelted his mom in the face with a shaving cream balloon

🐢Debbie loves you two, she loves seeing her son smile again but she doesn't love getting shaving cream in her mouth and hair after a hard day at work.

🐢You're both still in disagreement on whose fault that was.

"You know I can literally sense danger! It is not my fault, all I did was duck. Besides, why would you throw that with your mom standing so close to me?" You argued playfully while Mark massaged your foot.

"We were in more danger from my mom after that. Plus, how was I supposed to know you'd duck so quick?" He scoffed, dropping your foot. You playfully extended your foot to poke him while he evaded.

"No, you were in more danger from your mom. I took my black ass home."

🐢Mark worries about you in battle. Yes, you're strong, you can handle yourself. But he also doesn't love the idea of your greatest weapon being a baseball bat. He'd rather you had something that could do more damage. Like a gun. He'd feel a lot better about you fighting if you had a gun.

🐢Lowkey a skeptic, he knows you have strong aura and understands that you cover that bat in psychic energy that makes it stronger. But he still worries. He literally takes that thing from you sometimes out of teasing boredom.

🐢He also worries about your attachment to that thing. You even named it Theressa. He understands that an old friend gifted it to you. You'd told him about your friend Donnie before, but Mark one time caught you napping with the bat tucked in next to you. He understands it's important to you but his brain couldn't understand for a while. But Mark loves you, so what's important to you is important to him

🐢He's suggested better weapons to you before

"Mark, I'm not using a gun." You laughed, pushing the catalog away from you.

"Okay, but -and just hear me out on this one- you did use the gun. And you shot bad guys. You could even cover the bullets in your energy!" He suggested, pushing the magazine back to you.

"You want me to use a weapon I can literally get off Amazon? Oh no honey, I'm too cool for that. I'm original. Me and Teetee have been through too much." Then you shoved a pretzel in his mouth to cease his talking.

🐢He has his doubts about how strong that thing it until he took a hit from it one day.

🐢 He literally got knocked into your fight one day and crashed into the next victim of your mighty swing. Mark pushed the alien creature out of your way and the next thing he knew he was waking up in the hospital. The last thing he saw was a streak of green light as your bat cut through the sky like a knife, the look of terror in your eyes, and the splintered wood flying into his face.

🐢You explained what happened through sobs of relief and guilt once he came too.

"You got caught in one of my hits. I saw you at the last moment and turned the power down, it was too late to stop the swing. I'm sorry." You sobbed.

Mark patted your hair; you laid on the bed and hugged him. Your head rested on his chest while Mark's entire face throbbed. The bridge of his nose pulsed, and he was certain he felt a splinter stuck in his face. If that was a hit with the power turned down, Mark was literally never going to stress about you again. His face hurt for two days afterwards.

"You slumped over completely, I thought I killed you!" You wailed and Mark conjured a laugh from the depths of his stomach.

🐢From there, Mark never ever doubted you or Teetee again.

🐢You guys share music together. You put him onto H.E.R, Mark introduced you to Mac De Marco.

🐢You guys go to concerts together when you can, it's special for you two.

🐢Most people don't expect you two to be a couple. You're vibrant, always the center of the room, at any party you could be found dancing. Mark was quieter. Likely to be fast asleep at home, or really just minding his business.

🐢His quietness is deceptive; the man is a terror. He'll stick his tongue in your water bottle. He'll hide your car keys. He'll sit on you. He'll tickle you until you tap out. He'll pretend to be asleep when you're asking him to get you something

🐢But you ultimately couldn't have asked for a better man. Mark does anything to make you happy. He vibes with your creativity and follows you. You sometimes get frustrated and decide to do things on your own, but Mark is right there beside you.

🐢He always lets you know he loves and appreciates you.

"Do you know that I love you and would've gone crazy without you by now?" He asked, while you cradled his face between your hands. Your glasses shifted down before you pushed them back up on your face. You were bandaging him up one night, not too out of the ordinary.

A soft grin spread over your features, while you pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.

"I know baby. I love you too."

🐢Mark loves your fearless nature, but he's not the type of guy to play around with shit you're scared off. Like if your deathly afraid of clowns or some shit, he's never going to jump out dressed as one. He takes your boundaries very serious, he'd never want to upset you

🐢If you of all people are scared then it's for a reason. He knows his girl, he's not going to push you into something that scares you

🐢At first, like when Mark first got powers you were both hella friendly, Mark was always willing to go help. After the whole thing with Titus though, he doesn't accept people who just come up to him for help

🐢Battle Beast knocked the mario coins out of you two, you can laugh about it now, but Mark still feels immense guilt when he sees the scar on your stomach from you getting slammed into a piece of rubble

🐢You always make him laugh during serious moments. Like when you both tried out for the Gaurdians and you were watching a battle. The two heroes fighting seemed to have some serious history, it was looking like they were gonna kill each other. Everyone was watching on edge. Then you said "damn!" at a particular hit and Mark had to stand there and try not to laugh

🐢You felt so guilty too, literally lowering your head/fighting laughter at the same time.

🐢Mark made fun of you on the flight home though.

"All of us standing there, but only my girlfriend has to make a comment."

"Man look, I didn't expect her to kick that other girl in the coochie. I don't know what you expected from me." You defended through laughter while he tightened his grip to keep you from falling

🐢You two don't fight often, but when you do it's bad. You don't want to be around him, you don't want to see him, you don't even want to think about him. You're angry and you need some space.

🐢Mark gets uncharacteristically desperate to the point that it just pisses you off more. He's terrified you're going to leave him. He begs you to talk to him, to just look at him, even just remember he's alive.

🐢You need space, Mark is petrified of that space, so he sometimes forgets to leave you be sometimes. He wants it fixed now. You can't focus on fixing things when you're in the mood to toss him out of a window.

🐢Then you feel like you have to baby sit him through his emotions and like he's trying to control you, which you do not like. Mark is just scared though; he would never try to control you. One of the things he loves about you is how you march to the beat of your own drum

🐢You two eventually figure it out. You tell him 'listen, I need a few minutes to myself then we can talk about it. I am mad at you right now, yes. But it doesn't mean things are over.'

🐢And he listens patiently. You two are stronger after you two figure out how to manage your emotions.

🐢Mark the type of boyfriend to eat your cooking if you burned it. Or he would try, then he would come clean to you.

"I love you, but I can't force myself to eat this. Let's try making something else, okay?"

🐢Then he's rolling up his sleeves and chopping up onions with you to make some simple pasta. Isn't he just so dreamy?

🐢Overall, you and Mark balance each other out. You love each other, understand each other and work together to fix things.

🐢He loves how you inspire him to live life to the fullest, and you sometimes need someone to bring you back down to Earth because sometimes you go running headfirst into danger. There's no one better suited for each other than you two.

[mananoir]

Hiii really loved ur sol and adhd reader hc's, would you mind writing smth about sol dating an autistic mc that has trouble picking up social cues ?If you don't mind<33

Sol dating someone with autism!

♱ Hi<3 thanks for this request, soon I’ll have even more hc’s coming out so please don’t hesitate to add your requests.

♱ This isn’t really my best work at all as I struggled to make this as inclusive as possible while also having to add Sols yandere in, But I do hope you enjoy it!

♱ IM SORRY IF THIS ISNT GOOD🙏

If you have trouble picking up social cues and struggle understanding body language Sol will become more direct but gentle with his ideas, he’ll also this its really cute when you are oblivious to his flirting.

Y/n and Sol were sitting together in art talking about their task. “And I think we should do a portrait of you but like add dark things in the backdrop, you know?” Y/n noted as they looking around and noting things in their notebook. “A portrait of me?” Sol says a bit shocked “Are you sure you’re not making this an excuse to stare at me longer?” Sol teasing Y/n trying to flirt with them. “Hmm?” Y/n says in response “well yeah, it’s for work of course I need to look at you.” Y/n blurts out not understanding that Sol was flirting with them, Sol chuckles while resting his head on the desk looking up at y/n “God you’re so cute pumpkin.” He mumbled trying to stay calm “Pardon” y/n replied, “hmm? Oh nothing let’s get back to work.”

If you also struggle with verbal communication Sol will be so patient with you it’s pathetic, he’s such a softie when it comes to you and making sure you feel comfortable.

Y/n, Hyugo and Sol were all out in town, hanging out in the arcade. Sol was standing next to Y/n as they both watched hyugo try and win a plushie. Y/n isn’t always this quiet, it makes Sol worried as he watches his pumpkin scratch their knuckles trying to regulate themselves. “Hey, you good?” Sol asks delicately, waiting for a response but all he gets is a thumbs up. Sol frowns grabbing Y/n’s hand giving it a squeeze, he leans down and whispers in their ear “I’m here for when you want to talk.”

When it comes to stimming he’ll definitely be interested in them at first especially if you have vocal stims, sometimes just to tease you he’ll repeat them back to you. If biting is one of your go to stims (like me again) he’ll 1000% let you bite his finger, just don’t bite too hard or Sol might get too excited!

Sol was hanging out with Y/n in their apartment, both sitting on a couch watch a movie. watching very intensely, when in the corner of Sol’s eyes he sees Y/n biting their finger. without even thinking he offers them his finger, “go on.” Sol says, not even a couple seconds later he feels his fingers being bit down on by a set of teeth. After a while Y/n starts to bite down harder, not even noticing how weak and desperate Sol looked as he held back whimpers.

If you get triggered by loud noises When you guys are going to loud places he never ever lets you forget your headphones, he can’t have his pumpkin getting overwhelmed.

Hyugo, Sol and Y/n were getting ready to head into town, Sol and Hyugo are ready they are just waited for y/n to finish. Once Y/n does finish getting ready they walk out say “right let’s go!” Hyugo replies with a chuckle “took you long enough.” As both Hyugo and Y/n start to walk out Sol stops Y/n. “here you forgot to grab these.” Sol says while handing y/n their headphones smiling.

[happypopcornprincess]

Epilogue || About You

Pairings - Joaquin Torres X fem!Reader

Premise -  your paths cross yet again, the yearning in your hearts seeks for resolution.

Word Count - 4.2K

Warnings: MINORS DNI strong language, mentions of SMUT, emotional turmoil, mentions of smoking, ANGST

a/n - I would like to thank every single one of you for your lovely likes, reblogs and comments on this series! It proved to be an extremely beautiful motivation for me to complete this story! Hope I did justice to the characters in this epilogue, and I hope you like this chapter. and yes, headcannons and blurbs requests on this series is heartily welcome!

<< Chapter 6 || Series Masterlist

Three Months Later

Loaded cheese fries, a tall glass of chocolate milkshake, and a good old american style cheeseburger. Just what you imagined your 24th birthday to be... a quiet, normal brunch in the bustling diner three blocks away from your apartment eating up to your heart’s content.

While you were busy replying to all the congratulations on your phone that had been blowing up since last night, you took a second to swat away the hand that was slowly slithering towards your tray of fries.

“Ouch.” Connor hissed, exaggerating your swat. He had started at georgetown, and had flown to New York for your birthday for the weekend.

“Do. Not. Touch, my fries.” you reply in a monotone voice, your eyes trained on your screen.

“But,”

“No.”

“I’m paying for lunch!” 

“And it’s my birthday, so shut up.”

Connor had opened his mouth to argue but you sensed it from a mile away, “and don’t say that I’m not supposed to eat ‘junk’ because I got cleared a month ago, also I don’t start at the compound until next week so,” you take a long gulp of your milkshake, “I can eat as much as I want!” you smile at him.

Since your recovery, you both had gone back to how you were as kids; loving, caring, and occasionally annoying the shit out of each other. Connor had only agreed to go back to his university when you were able to move on your own and shift back to your apartment.

“You're mean.” he grumbled, playing with his plate of spaghetti, still eyeing your plate of fries.

“No I'm not. You’re the one who didn't… Connor!” While you were busy lecturing him and typing a message to Aunt May to thank her for her wishes, he had grabbed a fistful of fries from your plate, with the cheese and had stuffed his mouth with them.

Instead of saying anything, you had grabbed his coke and drank from it while swatting his hand away from your fries.

“What the hell dude!” He made another effort to squash your burger but you were quick to make a grab for his plate of spaghetti, grabbing his fork to fill your mouth with spaghetti like he did.

“Stop stealing my noodles!”

“Stop stealing my fries!”

“Hey!” a waitress whipped past your table, “could you calm down maybe!.”

Connor retreated at that second, making you drop the fork and mutter out a simple, “sorry miss.” and continue with your food, only to look at Connor and find him struggling to keep his giggles in check.

“Stop giggling,” you kicked him under the table, only making him laugh louder.

“Oh shit,” he swallowed, wiping his hands on a napkin, “I forgot to give you this…” he takes out a blue tetris console from his jacket and gives it to you.

“Awww, a tetris!” you took the familiar console you had loved so much as a kid, sharing it with Connor late nights after dinner.

“Happy Birthday, bug.” he ruffled your head and you let him, feeling content in the sense of normalcy that had established in your bond after so long.

As the waitress cleared your plates, Connor insisted on walking to your place, exploring New York. So that's what you did, walking around the city the entire evening, and gradually the cold grew, the biting wind whipped around you as you rushed back to your apartment, the darkening sky and the increasing speed of the gusts pointing towards a looming snowfall.

“What time is your flight tomorrow?” you asked Connor, fumbling with your keys at the door.

“Afternoon. I’ll probably head out around nine,” he replied, rubbing his hands together against the sudden chill.

“Cool. I’ll drop you off,” you smiled, finally turning the key and pushing open the door to the familiar darkness of your apartment. You stepped inside, reaching for the light switch, only to be instantly blinded by a sudden, overwhelming surge of brightness directly in your face.

“SURPRISE!”

The shout hit you like a physical wave, confetti rained down, sticking to your hair and clothes, and the sharp cracks of party poppers mingled with the blare of tiny trumpets. You blinked, and slowly your vision cleared, revealing your apartment transformed into a vibrant chaos, filled with the smiling faces of your friends.

An exparent laugh leaves your throat watching Bucky smiling wide wearing a cone hat and holding a cake, while Kamala, Shang Chi, Peter, Kate, Aunt May, Happy, and even Lucky standing by the door singing happy birthday. Even Lucky, Kate’s pizza loving golden retriever was wagging its tail with a wide smile on his face. You look at Connor, with wide eyes, just to find him struggling to wear a hat and pushing you forward to blow the candles on your cake at the same time.

You wanted to cry, but at the same time laugh at how fulfilled you were feeling at the moment.

“The wax is melting! blow out the candles!” Kamala screamed, and you laughed as you blew the candles, and everyone clapped and screamed as Shang Chi and Peter held you in a grip while Kate smeared your face with whipped cream, all while Connor took embarrassing photos that he said he will torment you for the rest of the year.

You laughed until your tummy hurt, and slumped on the couch after Aunt May helped you wipe your face and throw you out of the kitchen as she and Happy were on food duty.

Lucky placed his head on your lap as you petted him, and your friends joined you to sit and talk when you asked, “I thought you guys were on a mission in Hawaii!”

“It was a code,” Kamala laughed, joining your side, “all planned by Connor and Bucky.”

“What!” you look at Bucky, who was busy cutting the cake to hand out to everyone.

He only laughed “You actually thought I’d miss your birthday?”

“You bought it because you’re dumb.” Connor stuck out his tongue 

Groaning, you screamed, “Shut up,” as you aimed a pillow at his face, and he raised his glass to show that if you hit him he would retaliate by pouring cola on you.

“Ookay cut it out!” You whipped your head at the source, hearing the familiar voice of your old friend. 

Standing at the front door, Sam entered the room with a big laugh, holding an even bigger bag. Cheers erupted as he made a beeline for Bucky and left a big smooch on his cheek, making him fumble with the cake, his face turning red with embarrassment. Sam and Bucky made it official a few weeks before, and honestly, you were having the time of your life by teasing them about it relentlessly. Hearing the door shut, your attention is diverted by the figure standing at the end.

Bomber jacket over a loose white shirt, standing awkwardly at the entrance… his eyes met you.

He had grown his hair out a bit, his curls now more defined. He let out a small smile, and before you could say anything, Peter had already rushed to tackle him in a hug, followed by Kate, Kamala and Shang Chi. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him even if you tried to. With a content smile on his face, his laughter was filled with joy as he met his friends after such a long time.

After that night, Joaquin had left the compound to go live with Sam in a bunker somewhere that nobody knew about. Your friends were distraught trying to get to him, inviting him for dinner or asking him to join them for hangouts, but every single time he had told them he had his hands full at work; working with Sam, with the USAF, he even went to space with Sam following Nick Fury in his space station.

At one point, Sam was the only source of knowing how he was doing, and you understood.

Joaquin needed space, so did you.

And here he was, months after you'd drifted off in his arms only to wake and find him gone. He was back in your home, the same place that held so many of your shared memories.

—/—/—

Two hours ago, Sam’s Hangar

His fingers hovered over the screen, looking at the groupchat he was added to called ‘Mission Hawaii’, Connor’s relentless texts tagging him to get to y/n’s place for the surprise party. His mind raced for a way to get out of this, as this time he couldn't tell them he was working with Sam because he was going too. 

Hearing a sharp knock at the door, Joaquin opened it to expect Sam coming back from the HQ to the hangar, and his heart catapulted out of his chest watching Peter and Shang Chi looking at him, their faces etched in a frown.

Peter wasted no time to enter the hangar, while Shang Chi stared him down.

“Are you here to beat me up?” he asked, looking at Shang Chi.

“The way you’re throwing a baby fits about this, yeah. I am.” Shang Chi replied, crossing his arms, his face grimm.

Peter shouts from inside, “nice place Torress, very… spacious”

"How did you even find me?" Joaquin huffed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. The question was rhetorical; he knew Sam wouldn't have kept his location a secret if it meant getting him to Y/N's.

"Kate's got tracking on you that rivals Fury's," Shang-Chi stated flatly. 

Joaquin let out a dry laugh, “That’s a federal offence! This is an active USAF base I could…”

“Oh fuck off Torres!” Peter twitched, screaming at him. Joaquin groaned watching how he was marching towards him, looking right at him shrugging, “we know you’re avoiding us.”

Joaquin looked at the two of them, shouting, “I’m not!”

“Yeah, we don’t buy that.” Shang Chi stated, his voice dangerously neutral, similar to when he was about to blow something up.

“I do have work!” he shouts pointing to the scattered papers on his desk, the unfinished schematics on his screen. The excuse felt fake even to his own ears.

Peter groaned, “You haven’t played Black Ops with us in ages!”

“You’re ambushing me over Black Ops?” Joaquin looked at them in bewilderment.

“This is not about Black Ops!” 

Shang Chi’s booming voice fills the space, making both Joaquin and Peter look at him. He stood looking at the ceiling, breathing in to keep himself calm. Meeting Joaquin’s eyes, he spoke, "People are worried about you… both of you."

Joaquin saw the way Shang Chi’s shoulders dropped, like he was defeated, "Man," he began, shaking his head slightly, a note of sadness in his voice, "whatever happened between you and Y/N... I don't need the specifics. But this isn't the answer, Joaquin. You two were… close, before Mexico. And now? She's been in recovery for months, and you've just vanished. It's... it's frustrating watching you both fall apart like this."

“We know you like her.” Peter says, which lets Joaquin shout in response, “I don’t like her!”

“You’re acting like a kid!” Peter shouts back.

“No I'm not!” he throws up his hands.

“He’s right.” Sam entered, closing the door behind him.

Joaquin’s shoulders slumped, “Sam.” he breathed out, realising this wasn’t a confrontation…

This was an intervention. 

“I have seen you work your ass off in every single mission, losing sleep and rest every single day.” he continued.

“I was just..”

“I’m not done.” Sam exclaimed, "For three months," Sam continued, stepping further into the hangar, his gaze unwavering, "I've watched you push yourself to the brink. Every mission, every debrief, you're running on fumes. You think we haven't noticed?"

"I just needed…"

"I gave you two weekends off, man," Sam interrupted gently, placing a hand on Joaquin's shoulder. "Two weekends to sleep, to decompress, to see your friends. And what did you do? You locked yourself in here, tinkering with Stark's old drone designs. You're not fooling anyone, least of all yourself."

Joaquin wanted to say something, but he knew Sam had managed to read him like a book, and he was 100% right.

"This isn't just about you and Y/N," Sam said, his voice firm but kind. "It's about the team. What happens the next time we're in the field together? That tension… that unresolved crap… it puts everyone at risk."

He gave Joaquin's shoulder a squeeze. "I'm leaving at five to pick up a ridiculously expensive present for Y/N, because she deserves it. You’re happy to join us."

The silence hung heavy in the air, the weight of their combined concern finally breaking through Joaquin. He looked from Sam's understanding gaze to the worried faces of Peter and Shang-Chi. He was hurting, yes, but they were hurting too, watching him withdraw. 

A slow, reluctant nod was his only answer.

—/—/—

You couldn’t tear your eyes off of him, your mind analysing his every moment.

There was a subtle sigh that escaped him when he leaned against the wall, a sound of deep weariness. He blinked more often, as if fighting off fatigue. When Aunt May teased him about missing the cookout at her place, his usual playful banter was subdued, his responses almost automatic.

You recalled that night, you had waited for him to show up, only for Kate to announce last minute that he won’t be coming. 

Months. 

That's how long it had been.

Three Months of silence.

Even as the party buzzed around you, a knot of guilt tightened in your chest, the same one that had been eating you alive since you were discharged from the med bay.

His absence felt like a clinical, almost polite way to describe the gaping hole that had opened between you. It wasn't just a lack of texts or calls; it was like a wall had slammed shut with a force that still echoed in the quiet corners of your mind. 

And it was all your fault. 

Every unanswered message, every missed call, was a stark reminder of the pain you had inflicted on him. The casual cruelty of your own confusion, the way you had taken his care for granted, the messy, selfish way you had navigated his open heart. 

Pain wasn't a strong enough word for what you put him through. 

And now, watching him across the room, a ghost of his usual easygoing self, the weight of that realization pressed down on you. How do you even begin to mend something this broken? Where do you even start to fix a hurt that runs this deep? 

You had absolutely no idea.

“Okayyy…” Kate waltzes in with a big smile on her face, snapping you out of your thoughts and blocking your view of Joaquin, shoving a paper bag in your hands, “time for presents!” she clapped, and you knew just by how fast Peter and Shang Chi rushed to your side that she had given them her iconic ‘dagger eyes’.

“Kate, there was no need…” you had begun trying to return it but this time you were on the receiving end of her dagger eyes, warning you not to say anything further, “but i’m so glad you got me a gift yayy!

She dropped a smile, and you opened the gift to see a familiar white and purple accent…

You gasped, holding the box like it was a treasure, “Kate, you did not…”

“It’s the matching daggers you told me about!” she screamed, and you unwrapped them out of the box to see a set of purple and silver daggers, the colors matching Kate’s bow and arrow.

“Matching weapons!” you giggled, and only Bucky followed suit, while everyone else looked a bit puzzled at your excitement for weapons as gifts.

One by one, you opened the presents from your friends. Bucky, sticking to his love for flexible weaponry, had gifted you a high-quality stainless steel Swiss Army knife. 

Shang-Chi presented a smooth, cool feng shui amulet, carefully explaining its significance for "lucky charm on field," his dark eyes holding a quiet sincerity that resonated deep within you, a silent wish for your safety that felt more profound than the object itself. 

Peter, ever the tech tinkerer, gave you a small, agile robot shaped like a spider, demonstrating its hand-gesture controls with an enthusiastic grin, a spark of the boyish charm you'd always cherished. 

Kamala’s handmade earrings were bright and cheerful, a tangible piece of her vibrant energy. 

Then, Sam’s gift. 

The box was heavier than the others, and when you lifted the lid, your breath caught. High-quality durable combat boots, the kind that can survive anything from fire to blades, the kind any agent would covet. But it wasn't just the practicality; tucked inside one of the boots was a small, folded piece of paper. Unfurling it, you found a brief, heartfelt note in Sam’s familiar scrawl: "Stay grounded, kid. We need you." A warmth spread through your chest, a reminder of his unwavering support and the unspoken bond you shared. 

You held Peter's little spider-bot, its metallic legs twitching in your palm, and then looked at the smooth, grounding weight of Shang-Chi's amulet. These gifts weren't just objects; they were small pieces of their care, their worry and their hope for your future.

You thanked each of them, pulling everyone into a hug before they all migrated towards the kitchen, their voices rising in playful demands for Aunt May’s food. 

It was then, as you held the cool amulet in your hand, watching Peter’s little spider-bot scurry across the coffee table, a quiet appreciation settling in your heart, that Connor’s voice broke through your thoughts. 

He pressed a glass of soda into your hand and whispered into your ear, “Greet him.” His gaze flickered pointedly towards Joaquin, who stood awkwardly near the window, a gentle hand stroking Lucky who contentedly perched at his feet.

“I don’t think that’s good…” you murmured, a knot of unease tightening in your stomach.

Connor, however, was already in motion, a mischievous glint in his eyes. You tugged frantically at Connor’s shirt, trying to reel him back, but he was already halfway across the room, “Joaquin!” he boomed, clapping Joaquin on the shoulder with perhaps a little too much force. “So nice to see you brother! I believe you haven’t met the birthday girl yet!”

Before you could intervene, Connor had clapped Joaquin on the back again, effectively turning him in your direction. A sudden, unnerving silence descended upon the room, the chatter ending abruptly.

The weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air, your heart hammered against your ribs, a terrifying awareness that everyone was waiting for you, for something, anything, to break the silence.

“Happy birthday,” Joaquin said, his voice a low rumble, offering a stiff nod.

“Thanks,” you managed, a faint uncertain smile gracing your lips.

After that… silence.

“Fresh hot lasagna incoming!” Happy’s booming voice echoed from the kitchen, slicing through the awkward tension.

—/—/—

Grabbing whatever seat they could find with the food at the center, chaos somewhat subdued as everyone at the dinner table dug into the absolute feast cooked up by Happy and Aunt May; hefty portions of Lasagna, coleslaw salad, loaded cheesy fries, assortments, and at least four types of non alcoholic drinks.

“Happy, you’re spoiling me with these cheese fries!” you exclaim as you took another bite.

“Well, I tried to light up the grill on the fire escape but everyone protested due to the snowstorm.” he says, filling up his plate with some cream rolls as Peter and Kamala fought over the meatballs, while Kate tried to break them off. Aunt May gave him a stern look, “Peter…”, her voice dropped low, making him freeze and dropping his fork while Kamala dished the last piece out, giggling menacingly. Bucky and Sam watched her with wide eyes, how this sweet lady could turn into a scary woman in seconds.

You shared a look with Connor, smiling at the scene, but yours dropped watching his smile turn mischievous, as he casually leaned back in his chair, and slapped a hand on Joaquin’s back who was sitting next to him eating silently, “It’s been a while Torres, what's been keepin' your spurs busy these days?” he drawled, making you glare at him as he looked right at you.

What the everlovin’ fuck? Your eyes narrowed at Connor. 

Make up with him, you buffoon. He offered you an entirely unconvincing smile.

“Sam told me you went to space with him?” Bucky followed suit between his bites of lasagna.

Are y’all in cahoots? Your jaw dropped, your gaze darting between Bucky and Connor. Connor simply grinned, waiting as all eyes at the table turned to Joaquin.

“Uh, yeah. Sam and I were with Captain Danvers, and we met Fury for a roundabout. It was fun.” Joaquin replied, a strained smile on his face, avoiding your gaze despite being seated directly across from you – another one of Connor’s strategic placements, no doubt.

He was about to have a strongly worded conversation with you after this party was over.

“Did you meet Goose?” Kamala asked excitedly.

Instead of diving into details and talking in detail, Joaquin just let out a small, “yeah,” he gulped, “he’s a cute one.”

“Goose is a girl,” Kamala retorted, causing Shang-Chi to choke on his drink. Joaquin offered a small nod, grimacing, “Oh, sorry.” 

Your attention shifted onto him, mentally noting down the shadows beneath his eyes and the subdued energy that shone through his light words, his usual playful banter and quick remarks missing from the table.

“Is that why you were gone for so long? You were in space?” Shang Chi nudged him, making Joaquin’s gaze flicker right at you for a second that your heart did a somersault, and then looking at Sam, throwing a small smile, “That, and other things. Demanding work with the USAF is very… demanding, and confidential. So I can’t say anything else.”

“Well I hope you’re getting enough sleep.” Happy chuckled. 

A warm hand covers yours, you look down to see Aunt May sitting next to you smiling kindly, “It's good to see you with some color back in your cheeks, darling.” you smiled in response, “Thanks May, Doc says I'm good to go back to active duty next week.”

“Hear, hear!” Peter clapped enthusiastically, followed by Kate’s slap on the table and a chorus of cheers and applause. You mockingly bowed, laughing as Lucky added a happy bark and a tail wag.

“When you’re back on compound, we are surely having that movie night bro.” kate hi fived you.

“When you’re back on compound, we are surely having that movie night, bro,” Kate declared, giving you a high five.

“Of course,” you nodded, taking a long sip of your soda punch.

“What?” you laughed nervously, catching the look that passed between Shang-Chi and Connor, both their eyes now fixed on the blissfully oblivious Joaquin, silently eating his dinner.

Connor clapped his hands together. “I leave tomorrow, and there’s a snowstorm happening outside… so let’s have a sleepover!” he whooped, Bucky agreeing.

“But…” Your protests were drowned out as Shang-Chi enthusiastically shook Joaquin’s shoulders, finally snapping him out of his focused eating. Bewilderment clouded Joaquin’s face as Bucky launched into a detailed explanation of his vast collection of extra bedding. 

He never had extra bedding. 

He slept on the floor.

“Well, I’ll be staying over with Bucky, so…” Sam announced casually, earning a collective “oooooh” from the group.

“Who’s gonna drop me off? I came here with you,” Joaquin asked Sam, a flicker of panic in his eyes.

“Well, didn’t you hear, Torres? We’re having a sleepover,” Sam laughed, clinking his glass against Bucky’s.

You scanned every face around the table, a dawning sense of disbelief washing over you. Finally, your eyes met Joaquin’s, and in his widening gaze, you saw the exact moment the realization hit him: this wasn’t just a birthday party.

This was a fucking ambush to trap you two together.

—/—/—

A shiver traced its way down your spine as the harsh wind slapped against your face, your thin sweater offering little resistance to the biting cold. You rubbed your hands together, a dry laugh escaping your lips at the sheer irony of it all – seeking refuge on the fire escape from the impending chaos within.

Looking at the sky above, there was only a matter of minutes before the snowfall started, you pulled your beanie down, and leaned against the railing, peeking through the living room window, the scene inside a testament to your friends' determination. 

May and Happy, bless their early-to-bed souls, had already retreated to your bedroom. Bucky, with a grunt, hauled a frankly alarming number of mattresses into the living room, while Peter and Shang-Chi wrestled with your couch and coffee table, clearing the floor space. You ducked out just as Connor began his frantic, loud search for you within the apartment.

You evil little shit. You thought, gritting your teeth. 

The realization that this entire "sleepover" was a meticulously crafted plot by your "loving" little brother sent a fresh wave of irritation through you. 

Yes, at this moment, the fact of his earlier birth held absolutely no weight because he was acting like a devious teenager dead set on making his older sister's life a living hell.

The sharp strike of a match and the soft glow on the stairs below you snapped you out of your innate frustration. Then came the distinct creak of metal, drawing your attention. A figure sat silhouetted against the dim light onto the stairs.

You turned and began to descend the narrow metal steps, your breath catching in your throat as you reached the steps. 

It was Joaquin, a lit cigarette held loosely between his fingers, his head snapping up, a startled expression flickering across his face as he registered your presence.

—/—/—

"Since when do you smoke?" you said, your voice a little sharper than intended, the cold air and the unexpected sight of the cigarette in his hand making you edgy.

Joaquin rolled his eyes in response, taking a long drag, and then blowing it in the wind, the sight making you uneasy, “you shouldn’t be out here.”

“Well this is my place, you shouldn’t be out here.”

“Can I get a minute of peace? Please?” he took another drag, smoke escaping his lips that made your stomach turn.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath to calm yourself. You can’t confront him, you have to approach this situation calmly, keeping in mind how absolutely taken aback you were watching him smoke.

“Joaquin.” you look at him, making him turn, his weary eyes looking at you, filled with a pleading request to be left alone. Any other time, with anyone else, you might have retreated, respecting that clear boundary. 

But this was Joaquin, and the unexpected cigarette, the tension radiating off him – it all pushed you forward.

You took a step down, settling onto the stair above him, the metal cold beneath your jeans. He turned silently, his gaze now fixed on you, leaning back against the railing, the lit cigarette still held loosely in his hand.

Joaquin doesn’t say anything, and neither do you.

The silence stretched between you, thick and heavy like the smoke that briefly curled from the cigarette in Joaquin’s hand. Your gaze remained fixed on his face, tracing the deep lines of exhaustion around his eyes, a stark contrast to the vibrant energy he usually exuded. 

He, in turn, avoided your scrutiny, his attention solely devoted to the small, glowing light in his grasp, as if it held the answers he couldn’t articulate.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Y/N,” he finally huffed out, the raw pain in his voice twisting something inside you. You swallowed hard, a fresh wave of guilt washing over you. You sat up straighter, bracing yourself for what he might say. 

He continued, his voice low and weary, “I work until my legs give out, or I’m close to a blackout, and I sleep until my alarm screams at me, and then I’m back on my feet again, trying to follow Sam anywhere he wants me to.” Each word was a small, sharp stone hitting your heart. 

This relentless drive, this self-imposed exhaustion – was this how much you had hurt him? Was this his way of outrunning the pain you’d caused?

He took a deep, shaky breath, his gaze still fixed on his hands. “It just started… once a while, just to get the shit off my chest. I don’t even know when I ended up doing four a day.” The confession was quiet, almost to himself, but the weight of it landed squarely on you. Four times a day he sought this temporary escape. The realization was a physical blow.

“Does Sam know you…” you managed, your voice barely a whisper, the question heavy with dread.

“He does.” Joaquin cleared his throat, a harsh, grating sound. “Two days ago, he saw me behind the hangar at night. I’ve never seen him so… disappointed.” A tired breath escaped him, his head falling back to rest against the cold metal railing. 

This wasn't Joaquin who usually found a way to work through things, to bounce back with a smile. This was someone utterly defeated, utterly drained. You remembered the nights he’d held you tight, seeking solace in your embrace after a difficult mission, the raw desire in his eyes to just feel your body against his and then drift off to sleep in a bliss. 

But this… this hollowed-out version of him was a direct consequence of your actions, a constant, agonizing reminder of the depth of his pain. 

You took a breath, trying to gather your thoughts, to find a way to bridge the chasm that had grown between you. "Why didn't you say anything? To Peter, to Shang-Chi... to me?" The last word hung in the air, a silent plea for the connection that had been severed. 

Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, your body screamed at you to reach out, to touch his arm, to hug him, but the distance between you felt immense, a transparent divide between your physical self that stopped you from doing so.

You gathered every bit of courage you had, and spoke up, paying no heed if it even made sense, “You’re not supposed to punish yourself, Joaquin. It should have been me… eating myself alive for hurting you like this. I…” your throat tightens, a sob caught within, but you continued, “You gave me nothing but love. Love I didn’t even deserve. I am the reason you’re in this state. My selfish nature… It led you here. It was me… who used you. And I am so, so sorry for it.” you choked, letting out a whisper, “I don’t even know how to make up to you. If I ever will make up to you… for what you did. For every single time you were there… to hold me up when I was down. And I… I couldn’t be here for you when you needed me. I am sorry, Joaquin. I am so, so sorry.”

Tears streamed down your face, as Joaquin looked down at his shoes, hearing every word you said in deathly silence.

Joaquin then stared out at the city lights, the cigarette burning forgotten between his fingers. Your words hung in the cold air, when he finally turned, his gaze dark and tormented, ”Guilty? You think you’re the only one haunted by this? Every damn night, Y/N, every time I close my eyes… I see it. Dexter… his hands on you…” His voice cracked, the memory a visceral punch to the gut. He looked away, his jaw clenching, “If I was only fast enough… just a fraction of a second quicker… I could have stopped him. You wouldn’t have… you wouldn’t have…” He choked, unable to voice the image that had been seared into his mind. He scrubbed a hand roughly across his face.

You gasped, shaking your head to deny his accusations but he continued, “I couldn’t even look at you in that med-bay… all those tubes… the machines beeping… without seeing him pinning you down… as he…” he stops abruptly, a shudder running through him, “…as he tried to…” He took a ragged breath, the guilt a crushing weight on his chest.

“Joaquin… baby…” you reached out to him, but he recoiled, shifting away from you, his gaze trained on the horizon, “You were fighting for your life… and I… I walked away with a scratch. A goddamn scratch. How am I supposed to live with that mi amor? Knowing I let the love of my life get hurt like that… right in front of me? I was supposed to protect you.”

You move on your own accord, taking a seat right next to him

Joaquin keeps his gaze fixed on the city lights, avoiding you.

“Look at me, Joaquin. Please.” your voice firm, you call to him.

Testing waters, you reach out, gently taking his chin, turning his face towards you. He lets go of the cigarette, it falls on the cold metal extinguishing itself, as he resists at first, but your touch is insistent. His face is cold when finally, his eyes meet yours, and you see it – the raw, silent tears tracing paths down his weathered cheeks. Your heart clenches as you reach up, your thumbs softly wiping away the wetness.

Sobbing, you comfort him, “You did protect me! Joaquin! The only reason I’m here right now… breathing… is because you were with me there. In that basement. You fought him. You kept him off me as long as you could. Don’t you dare…”

You sniffle as his face softens. The city lights paint streaks across Joaquin’s tear-streaked face as your hands frame his jaw, your gaze unwavering, filled with a tenderness that cuts through the cold night air. He holds your hands that are on his face, closing his eyes as tears streamed down. Your voice softens, filled with a fierce tenderness, you continue, the words flying out of your mouth on their own accord, “You are… an absolutely wonderful man, Joaquin. You love… like it’s breathing. You make me feel…alive.” you smile, “Truly, achingly alive. You are the reason I’ve been truly happy… in a long, long time.”

Your grip tightens gently, a whisper leaving your lips, “it should be me begging for your forgiveness for what I put you through… and you need to stop. You need to stop… tearing yourself apart like this. You deserve better.”

Joaquin shakes his head, his gaze dropping away again, a fresh wave of despair washing over his features, “I can’t… I can’t even… love myself right now… I can’t…”

You hold his face closer, holding the back of his neck forcing him to look at you as you lean in, your forehead pressing against his, “Then I will. I will love you. For both of us. Until you can see what I see. I love you, Joaquin. More than words can say, more than anything.”

You leaned in to press a kiss to his forehead, your fingers gently brushing strands of hair from his damp brow. But before your lips could touch his skin, he surged forward, pulling you close. You surrendered to the embrace, letting him draw you in.

Then, his arms were around you, a fierce, desperate hold that pressed you tightly against his chest. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, a muffled sniffle escaping him. His grip on your back was a silent plea for you to not let go. Instinctively, your own arms wrapped around his neck, your fingers tangling in the short hairs at his nape. His breath was hot and ragged against your skin. A sob finally tore through his chest, and as he held you tighter, a matching wave of emotion crashed over you, your own body shaking with the force of your shared grief and fragile reconnection.

Time didn’t matter as he sat in your embrace, and you didn’t let go until his sobs subdued.

When he finally loosened his hold, the sudden absence of his warmth sent a shiver through you. Joaquin cleared his throat, roughly swiping at his eyes with the back of his jacket sleeve. Then, his touch softened. He gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb then tracing the dampness of your tears as he softly caressed your cheek.

Involuntarily, your body trembled at the loss of his embrace. A low groan escaped your lips as a sharp throb radiated from a particular stab wound just beneath your lower ribs, the cold air seemingly amplifying the ache. His gaze, which had been tenderly fixed on your face, instantly sharpened with concern as he noticed your wince. “Uh, we should probably…”

“Yeah,” you replied, a small, strained smile on your face as you attempted to push yourself up.

“Should I…” He moved instinctively to assist you, his hands reaching out, but you offered a playful wave, a weak attempt at lightness.

“Nah, I'm fine. Just, you know, the wounds are acting up a little in the cold.”

Joaquin nodded slowly, his hands hovering near your body, a silent offer of support should you falter. “Okay. Uh, I'm right behind you.”

—/—/—

You opened the window to find The Young Avengers were sprawled in exhausted heaps on mattresses across your living room floor. 

Kamala and Kate were a tangled mess on one mattress, Lucky nestled near Kamala’s feet. Shang-Chi lay sprawled on another, leaving Peter with a hopeful expanse beside him and the beckoning couch.

You descended from the fire escape, Joaquin’s quiet footsteps echoing yours as he secured the window against the swirling snow. Your eyes met across the room, and he stopped, taking a deep breath, he offered a subtle nod towards the couch. Your heart fluttered as you tiptoed to your spot, the worn cushions molding to your form. Barely settled, a familiar warmth brushed your hand – Joaquin, wordlessly offering a blanket before claiming the space beside a deeply snoring Peter.

You adjusted the soft wool around you, your gaze drifting to Joaquin.  He had fallen asleep the second he hit the mattress. And even in sleep, the lines of exhaustion around his eyes tugged at your heart. 

He shifted, his eyes fluttering open, finding yours in the dim light filtering from the hallway. A soft, hesitant smile touched his lips, a ghost of the playful warmth you’d once known so well. Your own smile bloomed in response, a fragile offering of hope and unspoken forgiveness.

—/—/—

The wind howled softly outside as the first delicate snowflakes danced past the window, mirroring the hope blossoming in your chest, you watched Joaquin drift into a peaceful slumber. A tender smile lingered on your lips. 

The space between you on the couch felt vast, yet the connection in that shared smile felt like the first fragile thread of a bridge being rebuilt across the chasm of the past months. As sleep finally claimed you, the image of his peaceful face was the last thing on your mind, a quiet yearning for the day when that distance wouldn't feel so immense.

---/---/---

A/N - Thank you everyone for sticking with me till the end of this fic! if you liked it please let me know through the asks and the comments. Love y'all, Take Care!

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[thehydraethereal]

MY BEAUTIFUL,

I woke up to this and I was genuinely giggling and kicking my feet as I read this, I swear I do NOT deserve youuu and your words.

Seriously!!!

Believe me, this was one of my FAVORITE requests, I ADORED writing it (I'm so sorry it took me THAT LONG, but I have inspiration for only 72 hours, and then it vanishes from my body for months lol). When I saw your username pop in my inbox, I felt SO GOOD, I was like: "omg, she trusts me to write this masterpiece of idea". THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING.

Please, baby, if you want to request other things, I would be MORE than thrilled, I'm serious, I adore your mind.

I'm planning a Tom Hardyyy fic sooon, maybe you'll be interested in that as well. Anyways, THANK YOU and lots of love!♡

"You flinch like that again in public, and I’ll give you a real reason to." (1)

Character: General Marcus Acacius.

Trigger warnings: age gap (maybe reader is the daughter of someone from the Senate), power dynamic (he's the General a.k.a HOT), physical abuse, harassment, threats, fear kink, manhandling, manipulation maybe ?

I was honestly just thinking of Acacius putting on the facade of a caring, loving and dotting husband when he's scorting reader to the market to buy some food for dinner and at some point she does something he does not like and she flinches at his reaction. He's an abusive man close doors because he's obsessed with reader and deep down fears she's going to run away from him or something like that, I leave it to you obviously, I read your work and god, breathtaking to say the least

CORIANDER UNDER THE FIG TREE ههههه

senator's daughter.ᐟ reader && dark.ᐟgeneral acacius

.ᐟ trigger warnings: My work contains dark themes such as physical abuse, power imbalance, age gap, harassment, threats, phsyhological terror and other possible triggering elements. Proceed with caution. If these warnings trigger you, DO NOT INTERACT. 𝒜cces my DARK PROMPTS, my WHEEL OF INSPIRATION, my MASTERLIST and send in more REQUESTS.

ههههه

A shaky breath leaves your chest as you stroll next to the aged fig tree which marked the beginning of the market. And then, the scent hits you—coriander. Its citrusy and spicy aroma was the characteristic, consoling element that marked your childhood.

Whenever you touch the darkened green leaves, sadness overflows you. 

Your father, Ghauccus, often let you stand among the servants. You were much beloved due to your father’s kindness, everybody loved to see his sweet child growing up so gorgeously. The maids often let you ground spices in the bronze mortar—an activity you loved doing, especially during summer evenings, after you had tired yourself running after fireflies and the moths that gathered around flames that illuminated the garden and vines. Notwithstanding their chuckles at how heavy the pestle was for your infant hands, you were still encouraged and strength was manifested over you ever since you were a youngster. 

A custom you and your father honorated religiously was the  first quarters of the moon, spent within the folds of forgotten stories or legends about women that shaped their own fate and destiny—no matter how darkened it seemed. You still felt your father’s fingertips grazing your lower back, showing you his deep affection and cherishment whenever you shared a walk in the open.

You flinch hard as you feel the general’s —your husband's— fingers gripping your hip and pulling you nearer his grander body. Your ribs are adorned by burgundy marks and a tiny whimper escapes your throat as the bruised flesh is pressed against the gilded armor with drops of gold which poke your skin mercilessly.

People bow their heads as he passes by with you on his arm, even though a couple of elders eye him with a disgusted glare and you...with pity. As they remember who your father was and who your husband is. They all view his as a tyrant for serving the twin Emperors so respectfully but you are the one that knows he certainly wants the throne somehow. You know about the plots and about his aspirations of becoming the Emperor of Rome soon. And the thought terrifies you.

You can already tell, by the way the muscles in his jaw clench and tick, that your "stunt" has maddened him. Fear constricts your throat and you feel your chest burning, so you try your best to brush the event off your husband's mind.

"W-we should buy more herbs, and I will have the maids prepare you the dish you l-like so much—", you try to speak, but Acacius lowers his head to speak in your ear and the words die on your tongue.

"We will return home, my love.", he growls and you already feel tears burning in your eyes. Home? You don't want to go "home". You know how rarely he lets you out and you know what will happen to you when you arrive back to the villa so you try to delay the inevitable by lingering in this moment.

"P-please, my lord, please...", your eyes bore pleadingly in his coal black ones as you try to steady your whispering voice. "Please, no, let's stay a little longer—".

"No?", he cuts you off again, and you feel his grip tightening. The deep chuckle that erupts from his broad chest sounds more like a growl and again, you feel small, powerless, you feel like a lamb to the slaughter. "When I command something, you have no say in it, haven't I taught you that, my little lamb?", he continues, as if he heard your thoughts.

You nod your head weakly, as you graze your eyes over the marketplace one more time. The coriander you willed to buy lies now forgotten on a wooden table as fear curses through your veins.

As soon as your feet hit the marble floors, and Acacius knows he is not under people's gaze anymore, you feel his hands on you. He grips the back of your neck and drags you to himself. You don't have time to scream, plead, beg—only to whimper—, as his lips press to your ear. "Tell me, you like when I put my hands on you?"

When you only move your head in a silent no, too choked by your own sobs and tears, he shakes your body harshly. "Answer me!", he says, trying to keep his voice down, inhaling and exhaling, visibly overly angered.

"N-no...", you cry out in the silence of the house.

The general grabs your waist next and he slams your body in the wall. You fell the copper of the blood in your mouth as he presses himself against your back. "Then why you make me do this?"

Both of his massive, calloused hands that killed so many, wrap around your wrists, pushing them next to your head. The general's massive figure makes your lungs burn, air simply not reaching them.

"My queen, why do you have to be so diffucult? ", he asks you again, and even under the heavy robes, you feel his hard member poking at your lower back. A sob escapes your lips and you feel a warm, thin trace of blood running down your chin, along with fresh tears. He always gets disgustingly excited whenever he feels your muscles tensing with fear. Another thing you loathe about him.

"I give you everything, don't I? I am a good husband, I am wealthy and I will make you my queen one day, and you still act so ungratefully."

He retreats from you all of a sudden and your knees give up on your weight, making your body collapse on the ground on your palms and the skin tears open on them. Teardrops fall, wetting the expensive marble carved with bronze. Acacius's hand fists itself in your hair and he slowly pushes your head up. His eyes scan your terrified features and the blood that starts to dry on your face and he licks his lips at the sight. You feel like you are nothing but a pile of broken limbs at the general's feet.

He runs his thumb over your lips that are trembling, and pushes it in your mouth, letting it rest heavily on your hot tongue.

You screw your eyes shut as he pushes it further, almost touching the back of your throat with it. "Look at me.", he commands and you obey immediately when he grips your jaw harshly with the other fingers. "You are mine by right. If you shame me one more time, I will ruin you so thoroughly that even the crows will pity what is left."

You flinch at the threat, and terror settles deep in your bones.

The general retreats the finger from your mouth and grips your cheeks with his entire hand. The look in his eyes was, for a brief moment, vulnerable. The only vulnerable thing in him.

Another tear slipped down your face and, combined with your blood, it painted his hand in a powdered pink stripe.

"You flinch like that again in public, and I'll give you a real reason to.", the man finished, standing up high.

"I expect you in the bedroom. You have wife duties to attend. And if you refuse, I will fuck the disobedience out of you under the sun’s gaze — and when everyone will spit on you as a whore, you’ll know you earned it."

You choked on a sob as he left, and your blurry vision caught one of your servants, one of the servants that let you ground the coriander in your father's home, look at you with tears in her eyes. There was nothing you could do but stand up and join your husband.

⋆↝ 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: So, when I saw your request in my inbox, I was literally SO. HAPPY. because I've been seeing your reblogs and you read good stuff and it was really encouraging that you are reading MY shit 😭 ♡ Thank you, my love and I really hope this reaches your expectations. I LOVED WRITING THISSS

⋆↝ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: @highonmarvel @pedrosyouknowwhat @essraxi ♡

[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 💌

[tokkiwrites]

Hi happy holidays! Can you please do a Sergei kravinoff smut x innocent female virgin reader “babe in the woods” trope. Sergei is immediately fixated on reader and wants her to be his grude & mother of his children. He immediately marries and later takes her virginity. He hopes to impregnate her from their first time together. Ty!

thank you for this request, anon! and sorry it took so long to post. I've had it written, but it just took a while for me to get the smut part going. i hope you like it!

Sergei Kravinoff × F!Reader ♰ themes of stalking, obsessive Sergei, kidnapping, Kraven is a weirdo and needs to be locked up, i would say innocent reader but more so an unbothered reader kind of, she is just confused, forced marriage, themes of Stockholm syndrome, loss of virginity, fingering (reader receiving), afab reader, unprotected p in v, Sergei wants to get the reader pregnant.

The woods were quiet, save for the whisper of wind threading through the branches above. You loved this time of day when the sun filtered gold and green through the canopy, casting dappled patterns on the earth. It was your sanctuary, far from the clamor of town and the heavy, watchful eyes of others. Here, no one could accuse you of being strange, or sheltered, or too naive. You simply were.

The faint crack of a branch made you stop mid-step, your basket of wildflowers swinging lightly at your hip. “Hello?” You called, voice soft, hesitant. The forest had always been safe— or so it felt. until now, you had never had the need to question it.

He emerged from the shadows, and your breath caught. The man was massive. A towering figure, his broad shoulders draped in animal pelts and his chest bare save for the crisscrossing scars that marked him as something primal, dangerous. His face was angular, carved from stone, with piercing eyes that pinned you where you stood.

Sergei Kravinoff. The name would mean nothing to you, but to others, it struck fear—a hunter of men and beasts, a predator who bent the wilderness to his will. He did not speak at first. He only looked at you, as if you were some rare, delicate creature he had stumbled upon. The longer his eyes lingered, the hotter your cheeks burned.

“Who are you?” you asked, clutching the basket to your chest. His lips curved into a smile, though there was nothing warm in it. “I am Sergei,” he said, his voice low, thick with an accent you couldn’t place. “And you" he paused for a bit. " Should not wander alone in places like this. The world is not kind to lambs.” You blinked at him, confused. “Lambs?”

“You,” he clarified, taking a step closer. His sheer presence seemed to draw the air from your lungs. “Soft. Untouched. So trusting.” You took an instinctive step back, and his smile widened, as if he enjoyed your unease. “I—I’ve never seen you here before. Are you lost?”

“No,” he said simply, his eyes roaming over you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. “But perhaps I have found something worth staying for.”

It reeked of dangerㅡ death. yet you still came back.

Over the next week, you saw him again and again. Always in the woods, always watching. At first, you told yourself it was a coincidence. this strange man simply shared your love for the forest. But his presence became impossible to ignore. He never tried to speak much, yet his eyes seemed to devour you every time, as though he were committing every detail of your face to memory. You should have been afraid. You should have stopped going to the woods entirely. But something about him fascinated you. He was so unlike the boys in town, who stammered and avoided your gaze, intimidated by your quietness. Sergei was bold, unflinching. He seemed to look right through you, to the parts of yourself you didn’t even understand.

you little lamb.

“Why do you keep following me?” He tilted his head, his gaze softening though not entirely. “Because you are mine.” The bluntness of his words made your breath hitch. “I don’t even know you.”

“You will,” he said, stepping closer. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, and though you should have flinched away, you didn’t. His touch was surprisingly gentle, reverent even, even if his rough fingers scratched your skin. “I have decided. You will be my bride.”

“Bride?” You echoed the word foreign and strange on your tongue. “But we’ve only just—” you laughed. surely it must be a joke. “You are meant for me, little lamb” he interrupted, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument. “I have hunted all my life, little one. I know when I have found my prize.” Suddenly, the world went dark.

maybe it was all just a bad and confusing dream. though his touch still lingered.

You woke in the morning to find yourself not in your small, familiar room. outside the window that overlooked the bed you were in, the forest. The air smelled of pine and smoke, and outside, the trees loomed tall and unyielding. Panic gripped you as you sat up, heart racing. “Where—” The door creaked open, and there he was, filling the frame with his imposing presence. “You are awake,” Sergei said, his tone calm, almost pleasedㅡ excited. He carried a tray with food: fresh berries, bread, and cheese. “Eat. Now."

“Where am I?” you demanded, your voice trembling. “Why did you—” He set the tray down, cutting you off with a look. “You are safe. That is all you need to know.”

“I am not! This isn’t right,” you said, tears pricking at your eyes. “You can’t just—”

“I can,” he said sharply, though his expression softened as he stepped closer. “I have waited long enough. You do not understand, but you will. I will take care of you. Protect you. You will want for nothing, my little one.”

You shook your head, backing away from him, but he caught your wrist with startling ease. His touch was firm, yet not cruel. “Do not fear me,” he murmured, his voice dropping to something almost tender. “I would never hurt you. You are too precious.”

Sergei did not wait long to make you his.

The days in the cabin blurred together, each one steeped in an odd rhythm. Sergei’s presence was constant, protective, and overwhelming. He would watch you eat, his sharp eyes softening whenever you complied. He brought you small gifts: wildflowers, trinkets carved from wood, pelts to keep you warm. He never let you wander far, always ensuring you were within sight. And though he never forced his touch upon you, you could feel the tension thrumming beneath the surface, like a predator waiting for the right moment to pounce.

In the evening, as the fire crackled and cast flickering shadows on the walls, Sergei sat across from you. He leaned forward, large hands resting on his knees. “It is time,” he said, his voice calm but unyielding. “Time?” you echoed, your throat dry. “For us to marry.” You stared at him, heart pounding. “I… I can’t. I don’t even know what you want from me. I—I never— You kidnapped me!”

“You were made for this,” he said, cutting you off. his eyes were setting you a-light, it made your skin prickle. “You think I do not see it? Your purity. Your innocence. You were meant to be a wife. My wife.” Tears burned in your eyes, but you blinked them away. “But I’m not— I need to marry someone I love!"

“You are ready,” he insisted, his tone softening only slightly. “I have waited long enough. It will be done."

And it was.

The ceremony was simple, ritualistic. Sergei had prepared everything. rings made from woven silver, a bearskin cloak to drape over your shoulders as a symbol of protection. There was no priest, no people, only the two of you and the forest as your witness. He spoke vows in a language you did not understand, his voice deep and reverent, as though he were offering you up to some ancient force. When it was your turn, your voice faltered, but under his watchful gaze, you repeated the words he taught you.

“You are mine,” he said at the end, taking your face in his hands. His eyes burned with possessive fire. “And I am yours.”

but every wolf gets hungry eventually.

When night fell, you found yourself sitting on the edge of the bed, your hands clutching the thick wool blanket. Sergei entered the room, his movements slow and deliberate. He had shed his usual pelts, his bare chest glowing in the firelight.

“You are trembling,” he said, his voice softer than you had ever heard it. He knelt in front of you, his massive frame now not so intimidating. “Are you afraid of me?” You couldn’t meet his eyes. "I don’t know... what you expect from me? What you w-want...”

“I expect you to trust me,” he said simply, his hand brushing against your cheek. “You are my wife now. It is my duty to show you what that means.” Your breath stopped as he leaned closer, his lips ghosting over your forehead. “I will not hurt you,” he murmured, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine. “But you are mine, little lamb. Every part of you.”

His lips met yours— soft at first, testing, as though he feared you might shatter like porcelain. But when you didn’t pull away, his kiss deepened, a low growl rumbling in his chest. His hands cradled your face, his touch reverent, almost worshipful.

“I have waited for this,” he said against your lips, his voice thick with desire. “Waited to claim what is mine.” You didn’t resist as he laid you down, his hands tracing over your trembling form. He was patient, guiding you gently, his touch surprisingly tender for someone so fierce. But his intent was clear.

oh, little lamb.

rugged hands make their way up and around your hips as his bearded face stays flush against your tender neck. he was ready to devour you. Sergei looked up into your eyes and for the first time you've seen him smile. and as if all of the things you felt caused you fears melted away, so did you into his embrace.

his lips meet yours, and it all finally made sense. you could feel the hunger, the will in him to give his all right here, right now. you wrapped around him like vines on a tree, his low growl of approval making you clench around nothing. it all felt so new, yet familiar, as if somehow, this wasn't the first time. the forest outside sung as your quiet moans filled the cabin. Sergei discards all of your clothes with ease, leaving you in nothing as you stayed splayed on the bed. the fur coverings under, pooled around your body, the moonlight dripped on you like dew in spring and you looked like a precious painting.

with no time to wait, sergei quickly gets naked. it wasn't the first time you saw him like this, but it was the first time you saw it. to say all that fear bubbled up into your stomach was an understatement. you gulped down as your glossy eyes looked at him up and down. "Spread your legs for me." it wasn’t a request, it was an order. and you obey. spreading your legs you give him a full view of you dripping cunt, and sergei throws his head back with a low groan. you finally speak up. "IㅡI am a...a virgin." it all seemed so silly to say now. "I know." he smiles in the corner of his mouth. "Smelled it on you the first time we met." and you whimper. "I will get you ready now." somehow, you knew what it meant. He kneels in front of you on the bed, pulling you so that you thighs are right over his, your puffy lips on full display. two of his digits make their way up to your mouth. "Suck." you comply.

after that was done, his calloused fingers make their way between your folds, gathering up the juices you've been dripping. You whimpered softly and Sergei shushed you, rubbing small circles on your plushy thigh with his other hand. He pushes one of his fingers inside, and you can feel it. It didn’t hurt, not yet, it was just strange and new. the second finger comes quick after and he starts pumping them, swirling them around as his lips made contact with your swollen bud. Your eyes jot open as this feeling washes over you, and you can't help but let your legs shake uncontrollably. The fire wave envelopes you whole before it comes to an agonizing stop. You open your eyes again and above you is Sergei, his shaft in his hand as he aligns it with your asking entrance. "If it hurts...yell. Scream as much as you want. Hurt me back. I am here to teach you."

and teach you he does. he pushes in slowly and the stretch is agonizing, the pain making all of your muscles tense. "It's alright, I'm here, little girl." you let out a sigh, the tears slipping past your lids when you open your eyes. the moon engulfed Sergei in It's beautiful light, his silhouette looking as if it was carved out perfectly. a couple of inches, then some more, and some moreㅡ until he is fully inside. you bite down on your tongue, but Sergei preps soft kisses along your jaw and you seem to forget about the pain. "You're doing so, so good. So good for me." he hums, taking in a big breath of your smell before he snaps his hips slowly. In a few seconds, the burn turned into a delicious feeling you couldn’t quite describe. And though it felt so new, your body fell in place right into Sergei’s touch, as if it were meant to be.

When he finally started to move faster, his groan was one of triumph, a sound that you know will echo in your ears long after. “You will give me childrenㅡ" he said, voice low and ragged as he moved inside of you. “Strong sons and daughters. Our legacy will begin tonight.”

your legs quiver around him, but he leaves no room for mercy. Above you, he looked just as a predator ready to swallow his pray whole. you weren't one to fight back, and you really didn't want to. you back stayed arched against the coverings of the bed, fingers clawing at his broad shoulders as he pumped into you. your tummy was churning, and your head was dizzyㅡ you were far gone, too drunk on the way he perfectly hit that spot with each thrust. "You were made for me, made to take meㅡ fuck, you are so beautiful." you whimper, feeling that fire wave starting to take over again. your velvet walls squeeze around him, causing him to growl. Sergei leans forward, propping one of your legs above his shoulder, the angle making you gasp for air. you look up at him, eyes glossy with tears. An animal. His eyes grew darker, lips crooked in a smile before he delivered his final blow.

you come undone right under his fingertips, writhing and shaking as small pleads fall from your lips. You can feel his seed deep within you, threatening to slip out around his cock that was still inside of you, pulsing. "Good girl."

he prays it sticks.

Sergei’s obsession with you only deepened—he barely let you out of his sight, his touch lingering whenever he could. Yet there was a softness in him, a desire to make you happy, even as he bent you to his will.

He began teaching you small things. how to tend the fire, how to skin an animal, how to defend yourself should a predator come. But you were never allowed to go far. “Why can’t I leave?” you asked one afternoon, your frustration bubbling over. Sergei turned to you, his eyes darkening. “Because the world is cruel, little one. It will devour you. You are too soft, too trusting. Here, you are safe.”

“Safe,” you repeated bitterly. His jaw clenched, and for a moment, you thought he might lash out. But instead, he cupped your face in his hands, his gaze softening. “I would rather you hate me than lose you.” you were beginning to see the truth of it. his love for you was consumin and obsessive, but it was real. He worshipped you, protected you, but at the cost of your freedom. And yet, part of you began to adapt. To find comfort in his arms, in the way he looked at you as though you were the only thing that mattered.

Perhaps you were.

[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♡

[jamminvroomvroom]

🎀 anon

congrats on 5k

hey bb ! i’ve been brainrotting on insatiable lando and his gf for weeks now omg

for a cute lil fic i was thinking of reader being max f’s sister and lando and her being secretly together. they’re all on vacation together and lando and reader are super insanely insatiable and the story on how they act on vacay 😈😈

anywhere she wants.

ln x fem fewtrell!reader

in which no one approves of your relationship, so lando shows them just how good he is to you…

oh my sweet 🎀 anon, i’m sorry this took so long! slowly getting back into the groove of writing, starting with this little piece! i went a bit off script but the vibes are hopefully similar to the request! huge thanks to angel bby @fairene for helping me out!enjoy! lemme know what you think!! big hugs and lots of love 💖

songs to set the mood: my love mine all mine by mitski, i know places by taylor swift, she will be loved by maroon 5, summertime sadness by lana del rey

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, fluff, angst, a bit of exhibitionism kinda, oral (fem receiving), fingering, p in v, established relationship, max being a dick, angry/feral!lando, girlboss!reader, hints of ownership kink? for like. a second, lando being wise (not canon lmao), swearing

4.2k words

fairy lights drench the pool with light, a glow dancing over the still surface in ripples. you smile, hum with content as the warm evening air washes over your skin, leaning over the balcony to take in the sight of where you’ll be staying.

footsteps sound from behind you, the master bedroom, and you quickly feel two warm arms wrap around your waist, tan and thick. you lean into his touch, chest warming from the kisses peppered over your jugular.

“you like it?” lando breathes, nosing over your earlobe.

“it’s beautiful.” you whisper, turning your head to nuzzle against him. he seizes the opportunity to seal his lips over yours, kissing you soft and deep. you spin in his arms, clutching at his shirt to hold him close, the kiss intensifying, changing pace. just as he licks into your mouth, a sigh, so loud that it breaks the sound barrier, tears you both apart.

“so is that all you two do now, suck each others faces?” max rolls his eyes, his disapproval of your relationship one of the worlds worst kept secrets.

“yes, max. that’s all we do.” you mock, biting back at your older brother.

because of course you’re dating your brothers best friend. of course you are. life is funny like that.

lando stays silent, but you feel his hand on your waist tightening. max swallows hard.

“we ordered pizza, if you guys wanna come down.” max bulldozes through the awkwardness, offering an olive branch, and leaves.

“he is such a knob.” you mutter, shaking your head. lando strokes tentatively over your cheek, soothing you.

“he’s your big brother, baby. he’ll get over this.” lando coos reassuringly, and you choose the easy path of believing him.

you and max occupy opposite ends of the excessively large dining table when you join the rest of your friends.

the tension has been palpable between you and max since he caught you sneaking out of lando’s london flat one morning, the reason for your visit quite clear. you’d stood with your ear to the door when he’d stormed past you and entered the apartment, making you more than aware that your presence was unwanted when he quickly slammed the door behind him.

you’d endured the one-sided screaming match that followed, the accusations that lando must be playing with your feelings, that it would never work out, that it wasn’t fair at how exposed you’d be to the cruelty of his fan base, that he couldn’t believe how low lando would stoop to date his little fucking sister.

you wanted to understand, and really, you tried!but max hadn’t made it easy, constantly pushing your buttons and making needless digs at the both of you. lando convinced you that this holiday during the summer break would be healing; max would get to see how much lando cared for you, and everyone got much needed time to relax. so, with your friend group in tow, the three of you jetted off to the tiny spanish island.

surely, everything would be fine.

-

everything was not, in fact, fine.

you can smell it in the air, the tension building thick and heavy. everyone thought they were slick, waiting for lando to leave so they could corner you, and corner you, they did.

lando had kissed you sweetly by the sliding doors to the garden, popping his airpods in and shouting a quick: going on a run! to the rest of your holiday party. you’d sauntered carelessly to a lounger, bikini clad, sprawling out across the chair to tan and watch the who can do the best canon ball into the pool competition that has become a long running championship. but you can feel stares, feel the walls closing in, and you push your sunglasses up to rest over your hairline.

max and pietra are locked in on you, as are the rest of your friends.

“what?” you feel hot, embarrassed all of the sudden for no reason at all.

“so, it’s going well, then… with lando?” one of your girlfriends starts, but it sounds extra high pitched, awkward. your stomach sinks as you realise the pathetically choreographed dance about to take place.

“for fuck sake.” you mutter.

“she’s just asking!” max shoots back, as if he’s offended, as if you can’t see right through him.

“it’s going great.” you state, blunt as ever whenever your relationship is questioned.

“we just wanna make sure that this is right for you.” pietra says sympathetically, her eyes soft. you’ve known her long enough to know that even though her dickhead boyfriend is being callous, she genuinely cares.

“lando is right for me, you are all so full of shit! i don’t get what it is that you’re seeing.” you try and keep your voice level, even as your blood pressure begins to rise menacingly.

“it’s not so much what we see between you, it’s more about what he was like before.” tom jumps in.

ah, yes. the infamous hoe phase.

“because no one here ever fucked around.” you glare pointedly at your brother. he lowers his gaze.

“are we sure this isn’t just a… a fling?” pietra tries again, staying soft. her words still sting.

“yeah, i know him better than you do, and i-“ max’s voice cuts you like a thousand shards of glass and you body ignites with rage.

he knows him better? what does he know?

does he know that lando can’t sleep without telling you that he loves you? does he know that lando cried into you arms after his miami win? does he know that lando feels itchy if he doesn’t tell you that you’re beautiful at least eleven times an hour? does he know that you’re so crazy about his gorgeous, loving, infuriating best friend that you’re prepared to tell your brother where to go and to never come back?

“shut the fuck up, max. you know nothing! nothing about our relationship because you never gave us a chance. you don’t see how much i love him because every time you see us together, you’re hellbent on destroying our happiness.” you point angrily, standing from your chair. before you turn to the house, you leave them all with a parting message.

“and all of you will do very well to remember who paid to bring your bitter arses here. remember whose fucking house you’re in.” you lecture, watching as they all turn sheepish as they realise how ungrateful they sound.

“i don’t think i have anything to add.” you hear from behind you.

you jump, turning to see lando leaning against the door.

“shit, baby.” you breathe, rushing towards him, your skin crawling as you wonder how much he’s heard.

“forgot my phone.” he shrugs, smiling warmly at you. only at you. “now unless anyone has anything to add, i’m gonna take my very, very serious girlfriend upstairs.” he grins smugly.

the silence is so deafening that you couldn’t of even heard a pin drop if you’d tried.

you hold up your middle finger as he leads you away.

your bedroom door slams so hard that they must hear it outside. he’s tense, enraged at the disrespect that you’d endured, but he’s soft with you, pulling you into his rigid body. he relaxes into you, walking you further into the room.

“how much did you hear?” you whisper, clinging to him.

“oh, you know, just all of it.” he laughs bitterly, fingers sinking into your hips.

“they’re assholes.” you growl, threading your fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck, just the way he likes it.

“there is one good thing about it though.” lando hums, still guiding you deeper into the room. your back thuds softly against the sliding glass door, the one that leads to your balcony.

“what?” you breathe, suddenly extremely aware of his lower body.

“you’re so fucking sexy when you’re mad.” he smirks.

turns out, he didn’t steal you away to mope.

his lips crash against yours fiercely, teeth and tongue getting in on the action as he moves his mouth feverishly against your own. your neck tilts back, allowing him to swallow you whole, like his life depends on the feeling of you pressed against him. he trails kisses over your cheek, across your jaw, down your neck, two fingers grazing your ribcage. he snaps the tie of your bikini against your skin, stone cold aware of the lack of clothing adorning your body and he hums low from the back of his throat.

“they need to learn that you’re mine, that you’re always gonna be mine.” lando grunts, pulling away to slide the door open. he pushes you out onto the balcony, the one that overlooks the very pool that your friends and your brother are licking their wounds around.

“lando…” you gasp, weary of his overly adventurous attitude.

“maybe this will make them realise just how crazy you make me.” lando looks possessed, moving towards you like a wild animal engulfing its prey.

he cages you in against the wall, pulling one leg over his hip to spread you open, his fingers travelling to the flimsy tie of your bikini bottoms. you’re already soaked, embarrassingly so, really, but there’s just something about those gorgeous, haunted eyes. lando let’s the bottoms fall to the floor, kicking them away impatiently as he quickly finds home between your legs.

“think anyone else can get you this wet?” lando asks, eyes rolling back as he finds your slick folds. your jaw drops, already boneless at the feel of him. “answer me, baby. nice ‘n loud for me.” he demands.

“no, lan.” you whine, bucking your hips into his hand. he’s teasing, stroking lightly over your folds and your sensitive bud.

“and can anyone else make you feel this good? i mean, baby, i’ve barely touched you and you’re shaking.” lando’s teeth catch his bottom lip, his eyes glazing over as he watches you.

“lando, please.” you mutter, grinding down on his hand. you need more of him. he grins, flashing his teeth with pride as he renders you desperate.

“my pretty girl fucking my hand, god, you’re so perfect.” lando praises, earning a moan from your kiss-swollen lips. “bet they can hear how soaked you are, baby.”

you flush red, shame and embarrassment blurring the pleasure and you press a tense hand to your mouth, trying to silence the waterfall of whines.

“don’t you fucking dare.” he warns, sliding his fingers deep into your pussy. he gives you no time to adjust, curling them upwards and rocking his whole hand against you. his palm bumps against your clit and you writhe against the wall.

there’s no point covering your mouth, there is no hiding what’s happening. you let him have you how he wants you, a consolation for him having to hear his friends badmouth him, and he takes every liberty, mouthing at your covered tits, lapping over your peaked nipples. you cry out, weak as he manipulates your body closer to an orgasm, your wetness trickling down his wrist.

“so good to me, baby, only you, lando.” you choke, your voice echoing between the stone walls.

“that’s it, honey, make a mess for me. let ‘em hear you pretty girl.” he encourages, talking you straight into your first orgasm.

you tremble, gushing all over his hand as you cum, droplets splattering all over the paved floor. lando’s eyes turn black, mouth hanging open as he watches you fall apart, riding you through it.

lando let’s you cool down, propping you carefully against the wall, and leaning over the balcony. funnily enough, max is long gone, but the rest of them sit in stunned silence. he can’t help himself, driven mad by your quivering body and their cruel jabs, choosing whatever the opposite of the high road is. he reaches into his pocket, finding his credit card.

“get out of the villa that i paid for so i can fuck my girlfriend anywhere she wants.” he shouts, watching the way their necks snap up to look at him, revelling in their reddened faces that are not just flushed from the sun. “take this. have dinner. just fuck off.” he frisbees his card at tom, - rather carelessly really, considering just how much there was to lose on that little black square - and he revels in the way it lands square against his forehead.

they all stand up and scurry away, as few faint sorry’s! carrying through the air towards the couple on the balcony, but lando has more important business to attend to.

he scoops you up into his arms, grinning at your coy smile and your drooping eyes. he carries you to bed, planting you in the middle of the mattress.

“not done with you yet, baby, open those eyes for me.” lando coos, crawling over you, his shirt and workout shorts flung to the other side of the room. he feels delicious against you, caging you in beneath him.

“want you, lan.” you plead, a desperate smile on your face as you keen, stretching against the mattress like a cat.

“you’ll have me, baby. always gonna have me.” he smiles, eyes finding yours. “i love you.”

“love you so much.” you whisper, pulling him flush against you. “no matter what.” you affirm. he needed to hear that, it seems, his eyes sparkling with something else, other than the sheen of lust.

he kisses you, firm and wanting, his fingertips sliding up over your arms, leaving prickles of lightning and goosebumps in their wake. one of his hands interlocks with yours, twining together above your head, his body stretching languidly over yours. you can feel him, hard and throbbing between your legs, teetering on the knife edge of self control.

“take me, lando. have me how you want me. ‘m yours.” you croon, disguising a helpless whine as you arch your body into his. you’re squirming for it, to feel him sink deep and claim you his.

that seems to usher him along, and he drags his cock through your folds with a slow roll of his hips, the head catching your sodden entrance. you hiss, the intrusion not even nearly enough, but the sensation overwhelming you nonetheless. he slides into you carefully, stilling when his hips hit flush against yours. you do not want careful.

“fuck me.” you groan wetly, hot breath fanning his face as your mouth instinctively fills with saliva. you’re close to drooling for him.

“beg.” he snaps, jaw tight as he battles his natural instinct to utterly ravage you. “beg me to show you that i own you.”

your legs quiver, pussy clenching around him and he cannot help but buck his hips and suppress a whine. he styles it out, tantalisingly slow as he rolls his hips, grinding against your pleasure point, your slick walls. blood rushes in your ears, your body feral with need. you can’t even tease, disobey him for the fun of it, not when he’s wound you up so delectably. your body keens for him, hums with the sparks, a live wire.

“don’t wanna be able to walk when you’re done,” you slur, beginning to ramble. “want to feel you so deep that i’m ruined. ‘m yours, lando. have me.” you plead.

pleasure shoots through him, then, rapid and unwavering. he’s unforgiving as he rails into you, immediately stoking the fire in your belly. all of his body weight is on you, sweaty skin sticking and slapping as his hipbones bruise into yours.

“is that how you want it, huh, baby?” he manages to growl, scooping up your wrists in one big paw, his other hand working down the planes and curves of your body. he finds the triangles of your bikini top, hastily tearing them down just enough so that your tits spill out. all for him. all his. “look at this perfect fucking body,” his breathe hitches, awestruck. “is it all mine?”

you cry out, nodding shamelessly as he ghosts his fingers around the swell of your nipple, switching to the other when he’s satisfied with the peak. he alternates between them, twisting and tugging, barely there and all too hard. you can only plead his name and tighten around his cock.

once he’s overstimulated your chest, he works his fingers further down your body, stopping now and then to dig into your flesh, appreciating the soft feeling of your skin under his calloused hands.

“and this hot, little cunt… is this mine, too?” lando breathes, right against the shell of your ear. his thumb presses hard against your thrumming clit, smearing your slick over the bud. “to play with? is it baby?”

“god, yes.” you manage to bellow, the strained words tearing over your vocal chords.

“yes, what?” lando snaps, slapping lightly over the bundle of nerves.

“it’s yours!” you sob, choking on your own voice.

“to…?” lando coaxes, a smirk tugging at his swollen lips as he looks at you expectantly.

“to play with.” you stutter, cheeks tinged hot with embarrassment that seeps down your neck and between your sweat-dampened bodies.

“that’s my good girl. my pretty, pretty girl.” he mutters, more to himself than to you.

“‘m so close.” you breathe, writhing up the mattress, his body atop your inescapable. he toys with your clit, pinching the electrified nerves, watching how you buck your hips and leak onto the mattress. he’s covered in you, his belly glistening in the sunlight that washes over you, sealing you forever in this golden, sparkling moment.

“want me to cum all over your tummy, baby? mark you mine?” lando gasps, driving into you with one goal in mind. he has to get you there, wants to be painted in the remnants of your pleasure and hung up in every art museum in the world. if only he wasn’t so selfish, yearning to keep this stunning sight to himself for the rest of his life.

“n-no,” you pause, your jaw going slack for a moment as he circles your clit just right, grinds his hips so deep. “inside me.” you beg.

“fill me up.”

his vision blurs.

lando just about folds you in half, carnal desire surging through his veins. the hand keeping yours suspended over your head falls away, finding your navel where he applied a brutal, sweet pressure that leaves you blind and wailing. his other fingers busy themselves sinking into the meat of your thigh, dragging you backwards and forwards on his throbbing length.

your body goes limp, tears of pleasure trailing wetly down your face as your orgasm hits you, and lando can’t help but bury himself as deep as he can go. the rutting of his hips and the messy rub of his whole hand against your clit leaves you awestruck, sobbing into the air of the room. you’re covering him in waves, shivering as you grow overstimulated but you can’t help but chase the high. your violent quivers and dripping cunt make him whine, high pitched and divine, and he drops onto you, filling you up. he can’t seem to stop, painting you white from the inside out, watching the way it drips out of you, coating the base of his cock.

this can’t be over yet, he decides. he needs to hear you scream.

“lemme help you with that.” he mumbles, slinking down your body, eyes fixed solely on where you were joined together.

you don’t even get a chance to mourn the loss of him buried inside of you, no. you’re too busy pushing at his curls, pleading that he lets up, but he can’t. it’s not that he won’t, it’s that he quite simply can’t.

his tongue runs up the seam of your pussy, lapping over the mixture you’ve made and you can’t do anything but cry and thrash, white hot with pleasure and pain. its so good that it hurts, and you give in, knowing that he isn’t going to stop unless you say the magic words. lord knows, you won’t. lando knows you won’t.

it’s torturous, really, the way he sucks your clit into his mouth, drags his tongue over his mess and slips it right into your entrance. he swirls and sucks and nips and tugs. it’s like he’s turned a faucet on, watching hazily as you drip and drip, more of you and him seeping onto his tongue. he’s insatiable as he licks you clean, unable to resist luring you into a third orgasm.

and when it hits, god, does it hit.

the scream he pulls from your body is deafening, makes him shake with the intensity of it, the vibrations rippling through your body and ricocheting off of his. you relax limply into the mattress, urgently needing a break. you watch through hooded eyes as he slurps anything left of you from his reddened lips, your thighs clenching unconsciously. he just chuckles, flopping down beside you.

“tired, baby?” lando teases, stroking over your rapidly rising and falling ribs.

“just a tad.” you deadpan, unable to hold back the giggles as serotonin soothes you.

“oh, sweetheart. i’m not even nearly done with you yet.” lando grins toothily, deviously.

something he said about fucking you ‘anywhere’ you wanted dawns on you and your eyes widen.

-

anywhere really did mean anywhere.

he’d had to carry you to the shower when you were finally done, holding you close under the spray. you were lost to the memory of him pushing you into the sideboard in the hallway, laying you flat across the kitchen counter, eating you like dessert on the very same sun lounger that you’d been perched on when this whole marathon commenced.

you’re utterly spent, eyelids sagging when he finally sets you down on the sofa, playing on his phone while you fall asleep watching the office.

you’re curled up in lando’s lap, legs hanging over the end of the sofa when max finds you. hair still wet from the much needed shower and fast asleep in his best friends arms. he actively chooses to quell the disgusted curl of his lips. you look so peaceful, safe. his plans to throttle lando for his earlier stint subside.

“call me a wankstain on society later, if you want, but please don’t wake her up.” lando speaks with a hushed tone, not even gracing max with eye contact, his eyes remaining on the candies he’d been crushing before the other fewtrell turned up.

“i- no, i wasn’t gonna call you that. i did, however, consider driving that very nice, very vintage lambo you hired off a cliff.” max mutters. lando scoffs a laugh.

“you would have paid for it.” he still doesn’t look up from the phone. max eyes the way lando strokes your side, in time with the crests and falls of your breath. it’s tender, intimate.

max considers that there’s a strong possibility he was wrong.

“mate, listen-“

“nope. she’s your baby sister, i get it. i get it. you can hate me for it, but you crossed a line going after her like that.” lando finally looks up at max, glowering sternly.

“i’m gonna talk to her.” max bows his head, as if he’s ashamed of himself and lando softens slightly.

“you should, mate. she wants your support, your approval means everything.” lando says. “look, i love her. i really do. and while you were accusing me of trying to ruin her life, you were crushing her.” lando sighs, his voice wavering with a hint of pain. max meets his gaze.

“for the record, i don’t think anyone will ever be good enough for my little sister, but you come pretty fucking close.” max relents, pushing his pride aside, finally. lando smiles, small and knowing.

“i just wanna make her happy.” he shrugs, a look of hopeless romance, utter devotion and pure happiness radiating off of him in waves as he gazes down at your frame. something in max’s belly snaps, the apprehension dissolving to mush. he had gotten this all wrong.

“you do.” he hums, watching how you curl further into lando as you stir in your sleep, the drivers fingers delicately combing your hair away from your face. “but,” max quips.

lando grimaces, bracing himself.

“if you ever, ever, pull something like that again,” max shivers with disgust at the insinuation. “i will remove your bollocks and make you watch me crash the miura.” max swears, pointing a finger of warning.

“seems like everyone’s come to their senses, no more… pranks from me.” lando holds his free hand up in mock surrender.

“have you two kissed and made up yet?” you murmur, stretching out in lando’s arms. you rub sleep from your eyes, sitting up and leaning into your boyfriends solid frame, resting against him as your eyes flit to your brother.

“we’re good. ‘m, uh, sorry.” max nods, attempting to be heartfelt. lando chokes on a laugh as it falls flat.

“you’re “uh, sorry”?” you deadpan, crossing your arms over your chest.

“i’m really sorry.” max tries again, and you grin cheekily at your brother, watching as his shoulders release the tension they’ve been carrying all afternoon. he turns to leave, halfway to the door when you call out to him.

“hey, max?”

“yeah, lovely?” your chest warms at the sweet nickname. you’d forgotten the last time he’d called you that.

“wash your sheets.” your eyes blaze with amusement and you hear lando’s sharp inhale of breath, shocked that you’d gone there.

“you didn’t- my god, you did not-“ max splutters, his face almost green with nausea.

“you’ll never know for sure.” you grin. you think he’s going to faint.

serves the bastard right.

-

hehe

lemme know what u think!! <33

-

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @welld0nebaku @thegirlinthefandoms @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys @rachstash @infinitebells @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane @jazzy722 @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @therealone4r @pleasecallmeunhinged

[piastrisun]

next in line.

pairings: lando norris + verstappen female reader.

summary: your brother announces his first baby, suddenly everyone’s eyes are on you. the teasing starts as harmless fun, but life has other plans.

faceclaim: lila moss.⠀warning: none.

request: for a smau idea, can you do verstappen!reader that just found out that her brother's gonna be a dad and is just excited maybe a reader x lando? and the grid teases her telling her she's next?

notes: so so happy for max, i’m sure he’s gonna be an amazing dad. and to make clear, i do not support kelly’s actions but i respect her as max’s partner and mother of their kid. also, i’m really sorry this took so long, i didn’t had my laptop :( but i do now!

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and others

ynverstappen i’m going to be an aunt, AGAIN!!! congratulations to the best brother in the world and my sister-in-law for blessing us with a tiny human. can’t wait to meet my future favourite little one. 🤍

tagged maxverstappen1

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username this got me thinking she was expecting as well, the GASP i let out 💀

maxverstappen1 best brother in the world? finally getting the recognition i deserve

username the fact he commented this first, so unserious 😭😭

username1 i was so moved by the caption and now i’m laughing

maxverstappen1 ik houd van je, kleine zus!!! (i love you, little sister)

ynverstappen ik hou altijd van je, you’re going to be an amazing dad!! (i love you too)

username2 FAVES

username3 my most parasocial relationship are them because i feel like they’re my cousins

kellypiquet thank you!! 🥹 baby can’t wait to meet their favourite aunt

ynverstappen stop it i’ll cry

username they’re so sweet with each other

username4 OMG congrats to your family!!! can’t wait to see the cutest baby pics

landonorris i’m next in line to become an uncle

ynverstappen i hope you’re ready for all the babysitting we’ll be doing!!

username5 wait... does this mean lando and yn are next?

username6 imagine the chaos if they had a baby too 😭😭

maxfewtrell chaos? more like pure excellence the world’s not ready

landonorris couldn’t agree more

ynverstappen you’re BANNED from my posts

username7 do you guys think i still have time to reincarnate in that baby?

username8 MOVE, it was my idea first

danielricciardo aunt for now, mum next?

ynverstappen delete this immediately

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

YOUR CHATS: MAMMA’S FAVOURITE GROUP.

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ynverstappen added to their story.

replies to your story

landonorris just say the word babe

ynverstappen STOPPPP

landonorris i meannn, i was already planning our baby names list, but take your time

ynverstappen keep the list, i’m busy trying to decide between napping or rewatch criminal minds

maxverstappen1 we’re just preparing you for the future

ynverstappen future? i was planning on sleeping past 11 AM, thank you very much

ynverstappen but sure, let’s add kids to the list!

victoriaverstappen you’re next! the family is ready for some mini-you

ynverstappen okay that is kinda cute

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

YOUR CHATS: TEAM BABY.

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

liked by francolapinto, carlossainz55 and others

landonorris four years with my person, my best friend, and the love of my life. here’s to many more!! i love youuuuu

tagged ynverstappen

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lnfour nice number that one

ynverstappen beyond grateful for you every single day, love you more than anything!! <3 ♥︎ liked by author

landonorris love youUuUu

maxfewtrell you two have made it 4 years and not killed each other? impressive

ynverstappen jerk, we’re literally the best couple

username SPEAK UR TRUTH 🗣️

username2 seeing you two together makes me believe in love and what

carlossainz55 yeah, how’s that baby talk going?

ynverstappen can we just enjoy the anniversary without being bombarded about children

landonorris hey!! it’s a valid question

sophiekumpen watching you grow together has been such a joy ♥︎ liked by author

landonorris we couldn’t have done it without all your support 🩶

username3 this is the cutest thing i’ve seen all day

username4 sooo, where’s the baby update?

georgerussell63 you better be sending out wedding invites soon... you know i’ll be waiting ♥︎ liked by author

username5 lando liked this omg

username6 OH IM SO EXCITED

maxverstappen1 maybe we can get the baby a matching anniversary onesie

landonorris don’t tempt me!!

username6 you’re worse than the actual mother 😭😭

alex_albon he is and we appreciate it

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landonorris added to their story.

replies to your story

maxfewtrell she has that pregnancy glow

landonorris she says: fuck off

maxfewtrell so lovely as always 🥰

charles_leclerc is the shrimp carrying a baby shrimp?

landonorris i don’t think so but stay tuned!

charles_leclerc 🫡

ynverstappen shrimp 😭😭 you’re unbelievable

landonorris you’re MY shrimp, tho

ynverstappen i know i love u

landonorris special shrimp

ynverstappen yes

landonorris mama shrimp

ynverstappen too far babe

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

ynverstappen added to their story.

replies to your story

danielricciardo i’m assuming shrimp is code for ‘future mum’ now?

ynverstappen lando’s been calling me shrimp since FOREVER

danielricciardo for obvious reasons, you kinda look like one

ynverstappen you’re relentless

oscarpiastri you can’t escape forever, you know

ynverstappen i can and i WILL

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

liked by landonorris, username1 and others

ynverstappen we <3 new york

tagged landonorris

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alex_albon this feels like a soft launch for a baby announcement

ynverstappen in WHAT world

alex_albon i don’t know, everyone says new york is romantic

ynverstappen no one has EVER said that

carlossainz55 you two look like you’re scouting locations for a babymoon

ynverstappen STOP GIVING HIM IDEAS

landonorris i do like the sound of that ♥︎ liked by author

ynverstappen no you don’t

username she says that and yet likes all the baby related comments 😭😭

landonorris do you think we’ll get a discount if we book the babymoon now? asking for a friend

ynverstappen i’ll throw you in the ocean

username2 LMAOO he’s not even subtle about it

maxfewtrell baby’s first visit to the empire state? 👶🏻

landonorris give us nine months, mate

username3 savannah slow down

username4 y’all are a little too cute and i love it

username5 REAL like those are my parents

oscarpiastri if you name the baby after me i’ll babysit for free. think about it

landonorris oscar norris-verstappen it is!!!

ynverstappen first of all, my last name would go first

ynverstappen second, you were my favourite, oscar

ynverstappen and i remark WERE

oscarpiastri got it miss

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

YOUR CHATS: TEAM BABY.

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

liked by danielricciardo, ynverstappen and others

lando.jpg muse

view all comments

username he has called her his muse a million times and it gets me every time 🥹

ynverstappen love love love ♥︎ liked by author

lando.jpg 🖤

danielricciardo your family portraits are coming along nicely. just missing one thing…

lando.jpg i’ll admit that would make a good christmas card ♥︎ liked by ynverstappen

username2 u don’t even TRY to be subtle, huh? lmaooo

username3 someone pls tell him he’s not slick 😭😭

username4 you two are the cutest

username5 okay dad in training, we see you!!

username6 they can’t escape baby talk even online i’m CRYING

username7 husband AND dad material, i don’t make the rules ♥︎ liked by author

username8 him liking this he’s NOT real

username9 this man is ready, someone call yn

charles_leclerc dog dad today, human dad tomorrow 👀

ynverstappen tomorrow’s a bit ambitious, but thanks for the timeline

username she’s not saying no—

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©⠀piastrisun original work. please don’t translate, claim or repost any of my writing, 25’.

[dokyumms]

seventeen's reaction to you overworking yourself (hyung line) !

pairings: hyung line x reader (find maknae ver. here)

genre: fluff, angst

word count: 1.6k

cw: light cursing, overworking, fatigue, fainting

a/n: i had to cut this in half since it was getting too long and i wanted to make sure i posted today! i have NO idea why i made seungcheol's so long lmao. hope you enjoy kings ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ also, i will be closing my requests so i can catch up on them over the weekend, i'll try to get them done by monday! thank you for all the support, it means so much to me ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

seungcheol - seungcheol is livid. you're still at your second part-time job when seungcheol calls you, "send me your location, y/n." you didn't tell seungcheol you had taken on a second job. you've never been comfortable with money, always having to work multiple jobs to stay afloat. that was until you met seungcheol, and since then he's always taken care of your expenses, even offering to pay for part of your tuition, and you decided it was enough. you didn't want for your (millionaire) boyfriend to think you were using him, so you told him you took on some evening classes.

today, you're covering someone else's shift. originally, you weren't going to, but after their promise of sending you a little extra money for it, you accepted.

"cheol, i told you i'm-"

"at class still? don't bullshit me, y/n. you didn't take on any new classes, you left your paper schedule on the counter."

your stomach drops. ah hell, you must be stupid. "y/n, what are you really doing?" he asks, almost pleading. there's absolutely no fighting it at that point, "i'm... at work. shift just ended, i'll send you my location." in defeat, you sit on a barstool at the restaurant and wait for seungcheol.

when he walks in, his eyes are immediately on you, walking over and grabbing your hand. "let's go," is all he says. the car ride is silent with tension; he only asks about it once you two are both home. "why? y/n there's no reason for you to be working another job. i'm right here; if you needed financial help, i could've helped you." he says gently, trying to maintain his frustration, but his brows are furrowed, exposing his true emotions.

"that's just the thing seungcheol, you're always here to help me. i don't want to use you because i can't support myself." you reason, but seungcheol obviously isn't buying it. "y/n, you're not using me, even if you did i wouldn't care. i don't want to watch you struggle when i know i can help." he takes your hand into his own. "don't do this to yourself, please. i love you too much to let this keep going." looks like you're quitting that job.

jeonghan - you and jeonghan are walking home from your date night. it's supposed to be romantic, you two walking hand in hand, but you're feeling the weight of the all nighters you've been pulling all week to finish your project, walking wobbily on the side walk.

"did you drink or something? you're walking a little funny babe." jeonghan teases before giving you a genuine look of concern. you try to laugh it off, "hah, maybe." but then your eyes start to droop ever so slowly. jeonghan notices, "have you been sleeping?" damn. did your concealer wear off or something? you're about to respond, but your legs give out and jeonghan catches you before everything goes dark.

you wake up on the couch, tucked in with a blanket with jeonghan caressing your forehead lovingly. "so i'm guessing the answer to my question is no," jeonghan murmurs, giggiling. "but seriously y/n- don't scare me like that," he adds. "i know i know, sorry-" you say, trying to sit up, but jeonghan interupts. "i don't think so, you need to rest baby," he gently pushes you back down before joining you on the couch. "we'll talk about this seriously later, let's just sleep for now." wrapping his arms around you, leaving you no choice but to comply.

joshua - joshua wants to trust you, knowing that you're fully capable of taking care of yourself, but he can't help but worry when he looks over at you. you've been sitting at your desk for hours now, trying to finish all your assignments before the end of the grading period.

he walks over, putting his hands on your shoulders and massaging them. "you've been working for a bit, love. how about a break?" he suggests. you turn around, giving him a small smile, "i really would shua, but i've got like 2 hours till this is due. just let me finish this and i'll take a break." he frowns, "you promise?" "i promise," he hums in response, giving you a quick peck on the cheek before retreating to whatever he was doing.

2 hours later, joshua is back at your desk, only to find you slumped over your papers. he sighs, shaking his head before taking a look at your laptop. "hm, looks like you made the deadline," he says softly, gently shaking you awake.

"you did it, love. i'm proud of you, but i don't want you doing this often- it makes me worried." he murmurs, "come on, you need to take your well deserved break in a more comfortable space," taking your hand and guiding you to your room.

jun - honestly he gets it, between his singing and acting career, he knows what it's like to always feel like you're on the clock. he still doesn't approve of this though.

you just got home from working over time, it's 11:35- you both should be asleep, but he's waiting for you on the couch. looking at you, his heart breaks, noticing the eyebags, the bad posture, the way you're barely holding onto your bag, all of it. he makes his way over to you.

"oh, y/n," you don't process what's happening, about 30 seconds from fall asleep as he holds you. taking your bag from your hand, he then ushers you toward the couch. he helps you take off your jacket and shoes.

"do you want something to eat? water?" he asks while laying you down. you shake your head, but he still hands you a waterbottle anyway. "i'm always scared when you're like this bǎo bèi," he comments softly. "please take care of yourself, but if you can't, i'll be here." he gives you a kiss before laying your head down, falling asleep almost immediately.

hoshi - hoshi is nothing short of assertive, literally showing up to your job. "soonyoung, what are you-" "do you know what time it is? i'm taking you home." he leaves no room for argument as he drags you out of your work place. you're going to need to explain this to your manager.

"i'm not letting you do this to yourself, y/n. it's late. why are you still trying to work at this hour?" he asks, frustrated. "soonyoung, you know why. i don't have a roommate anymore; i can't pay rent with one income." he sighs, "i know, but you just look so- i don't know- tired now. i can help y/n, just let me."

there's no talking your way out of this, you just let him drag you all the way back to your apartment while rambling about how bad working late could be for your health: what if someone kidnaps you on the way home? what if you faint while you're walking up the stairs because you're so tired? what if you're so sleepy you don't notice someone walking by and you run into them and fall into a storm drain?

wonwoo - he doesn't scold you, but he'll get all nerdy and tell you terrible facts about not taking care of yourself.

you're bent over your laptop, trying to finish a whole group project on your own since you got assigned terrible partners. he sits down besides you, whispering in your ear, "keep sitting like that, and you won't be able to walk properly at 40," you scoff, but adjust your posture anyway, you don't want to test this guy. smiling in victory, he kisses you before walking away, reminding you to take a break.

you don't listen to him though, getting carried away in your work. wonwoo comes back every so often to tell you that your brain will start eating itself because you haven't eaten, you'll get terrible wrinkles because you're dehydrated, all that stuff.

once you're finally done and in bed, he scolds you, of course. "i know you think i'm joking, but i'm not y/n. this isn't good for you, next time you do this, i'm forcing you to stop, okay?" he strokes your hair and gives you a kiss. "i love you a lot, so take good care of yourself, can't have you dying on me."

woozi - out of all the members, he's definitely the one who relates to you the most. he knows you'll drown out the sound of people telling you to take breaks, so he takes things into his own hands.

you're working at your desk when woozi turns your chair around and grabs your hand, dragging you to the couch. you try to argue, you really need to finish this so your group doesn't fall behind on the project, but he doesn't take no for an answer.

"shush y/n, just let me talk." he starts, "i know what it's like, i really do. you feel like everyone is depending on you, and maybe they are, but you don't have to do it all alone," when you try to dismiss him and get back to work, he's actually pinning you to the couch. in any other circumstance, you'd be turned the hell on... but he's serious about this. "listen, stop trying to shut me out y/n. i'm someone you can rely on, and i want you to. don't do this to yourself, i won't let you."

you nod in agreement. "good, now let's just stay here for a second," he lays on top of you, trapping you under him so there's nothing you can do but rest.