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lubdubology · 3 months ago

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When Things Turn Green Again

SYNOPSIS: Hoping to mend the pain of your broken heart and bury the memory of your failed marriage, you turn towards the woods. A cabin was left in your name and it’s the exact distraction you were looking for. What you didn’t anticipate is meeting a quiet, ruggedly handsome man along the way who helps you heal.

PAIRING: Logan x fem!reader

WC: 11k

WARNINGS: smut 18+; mdni; angst; mentions of cheating/divorce; emotional trauma; fluff; sexual innuendos; brief mentions of drinking; dirty talk; slight dom!Logan; oral (f receiving); fingering; doggy style; cock warming; sex with feelings; unprotected p in v

A/N: I pictured either Origins!Logan or Wolverine!Logan, but I think you can envision any Logan you’d prefer. And again thanks to @joelsgoldrush for the support through writing this ❤️ I really do love this piece I wrote and I hope you do too. Feedback is always welcome and appreciated! And thank you to everyone who has read, commented, liked and reblogged both Soft Edges and Til The Sun Turns Black—I never imagined either of those stories reaching over 1k notes.

The gravel crunches under your tires as you roll down the long driveway. Memories bloom deep in your chest as you near the cabin, of times simpler than this, unburdened by trappings of real life. You spent your formative years out here in the woods with your grandfather. Summers spent learning how to fish on the lake; how to recognize the poisonous berries from the nonpoisonous ones; and making fires, roasting marshmallows long after the sun had gone down.

Your grandfather had helped build this cabin. He’d always preferred the outdoors and solitude from people—with the obvious exception of your grandmother and mother—and he’d often come here to escape. Especially after he lost them both.

The cabin comes into view through the trees just starting to unfurl their spring foliage. Patches of snow still dot the landscape but the wet brown of winter is losing to spring’s verdant hues. The structure has seen better days, last having been lived in over ten years ago.

A stab of regret pierces your chest. The cabin was willed to you when your grandfather died, but this was your first trip up here since the funeral. You planned to, of course, but as the old saying goes, life happened. Now, you’re hoping the old place can give you something to sink your energy into besides thinking about your failed marriage.

You park the truck and step out, surveying the property. The shrubs and flower beds are overgrown and choked with old growth and weeds. Years worth of leaves rest upon the roof and clog the gutters. The front porch has several loose or missing spindles and you’re almost afraid to step up onto the old boards. Proving yourself right, the wood groans and creaks beneath your feet, certain spots threatening to give way.

“That’s going to be a fun project,” you mutter to yourself.

Opening the front door, you’re met with the damp mustiness of a long closed up space. A layer of dust seems to coat nearly every surface and cobwebs linger in the corners. You’re hoping the repairs needed inside the cabin are more cosmetic than costly.

You open up the old blinds, letting the early morning light filter in the room. It’s not a large space, an open kitchen, living room and dinning area with separate bedroom and attached bathroom. A small set of steps leads up to a loft, which also doubles as a sleeping space or bonus area.

You unload your belongings from the truck, tucking them away inside the bedroom, before opening all the windows to let in the fresh air. Thankfully, the glass and protective screens are in relatively good repair—a few need replacing, but an easy enough job. You feel a sense of purpose flourish within you, something you haven’t felt for months and you wonder if this is just the reprieve you need to find yourself again.

+++

You spend the morning taking inventory of the repairs needed around the cabin to make it immediately livable. Jotting down a list of supplies, you hop in your truck and head into town to hit up the hardware store.

The owner, George, recognizes you from previous trips with your grandfather when you were younger. He greets you warmly and helps you find everything you need. As you’re checking out, he asks, “Run into Logan yet?”

“Logan?”

He nods his head. “Shares a property line with you. Has a cabin of his own just about a quarter mile north of yours. Asked him to keep his eye out on the place.”

“Oh, well, that was nice of him,” you comment, stuffing your receipt in your purse.

George shrugs. “Figured it would give him something different to do. Doesn’t interact much with people.”

“Guess I’ll just have to introduce myself then,” you say, lifting your bags up off the checkout counter.

“Good luck with that,” George responds with a huffed laugh. “He’s not one for small talk.”

You give George a polite smile and leave the store, bags in hand. But the conversation sparks your curiosity and you find yourself thinking of the man who shares the woods with you. You promised yourself once you were settled, you’d make the short hike towards his place and introduce yourself.

Arriving back at the cabin, you park the truck and hop out, stopping short when you spot a lone figure walking around from the back of your property. You can’t stop the prickle of anxiety that zips up your spine as the figure comes closer, but he doesn’t see you yet, his eyes on the ground as he walks.

You shut the truck door with more force than necessary, the sound echoing off the trees. He looks up then and you suck in a short breath as his rugged features come into view—well trimmed but scruffy beard, wild dark hair and a fit muscular frame you can see even under the flannel of his shirt.

Butterflies flutter in your stomach and you can’t remember the last time you’ve felt like this. You can feel a blush creep across your face and you grip the bags in your hands tighter just to feel something other than the hammering of your heart in your chest.

He stops short of where you’re standing and jerks a thumb behind him. “Turned your electrical breaker on,” he says without introduction and you can only stare at him.

“Oh,” you say dumbly. “I, uh—thanks.”

He tilts his head and looks at you and you feel like you’re on fire under his glare. It’s an inquisitive one, like he can’t quite figure out what you’re doing in a place like this and you shift uncomfortably under his gaze. And yet, you don’t want him to stop looking at you.

“Right,” he says, reaching into the pocket of his jeans for something. He fishes out a key and holds it in your direction. “This is yours.”

You shift the bags, so you’re holding them all in one hand and reach for the key. Your fingertips brush against his just briefly, but it’s enough to set sparks along your skin and you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. As he steps back from you, you blurt out your name and then immediately wish for a swift death at your awkwardness.

God, this was embarrassing.

It’s like you’ve never interacted with humans before.

He gives the barest hint of a smile. “Logan.”

“Nice to meet you, Logan,” you say, just so you can taste his name in your mouth.

Logan nods and turns to head down the path that leads away from your cabin and deeper into the woods. You watch him go, his figure fading further into the distance and you can’t help but think, I’m in trouble.

+++

You spend the rest of the day keeping busy around the cabin—wiping down dusty surfaces, sweeping up cobwebs, replacing broken light bulbs—but your mind never strays far from Logan and the inexplicable pull you have towards him.

You’ve dated. You were married. You weren’t a stranger to the opposite sex and physical attraction, but this felt like more. Like an unavoidable pull between you and him and you’ve just been spun into his orbit.

And that attraction terrifies you.

Over the next few days, you try and shove him from your mind. It helps that you haven’t seen him again, but your eyes inevitably dart towards the path leading away from your cabin as if you’re expecting him to come walking through.

Then, the idea comes to you late one night as you’re sitting in front of the fire, watching the flames lick higher. No matter how hard you had tried, Logan remained firmly planted in your mind, his roots stubborn and unyielding.

Your grandfather always said your grandmother’s cooking was always something that warmed his heart.

But as you walk the small path towards Logan’s property you briefly wonder if you’ve lost your mind. You carry the small pie dish in your hands and as his cabin grows closer you’re actually contemplating turning back and forgetting the whole thing.

Who the hell bakes pies for people any more?

His cabin is smaller than yours, a little more rustic and worn, which seems fitting based on the little you know about him. Several piles of firewood line the roofed porch and at the opposite end, a single chair and table sit in front of the window. With one last shaky inhale, you climb the steps and rap your knuckles against the door. From inside you hear heavy footfalls and then the door opens.

Logan looks down at you and then towards the dish in your hands, an odd expression crossing his handsome features.

“I made you a pie,” you blurt unceremoniously and you instantly wish for the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

Logan just continues to stare at you and you think you see the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth. But maybe not.

“I, uh, my grandfather lived in the cabin next to yours and it’s mine now. I’m fixing it up, because…well, just because and he taught me to pick berries as a kid? So, I did that and I made you this,” you finish in a ramble, flames of embarrassment licking across your skin.

Jesus fucking Christ.

His eyes flick down at the dish in your hands again and you hold it up a bit higher, nudging it closer towards him. As he reaches out to take it, his fingers brush against yours and you again feel electricity tingle down your fingertips. If he notices it too, he says nothing, not that he’s said anything since you showed up on his porch.

Logan tucks the dish closer to his body and gives you a slight nod. You take that as a good sign and step back to leave. “Okay, cool, cool. Well, um, enjoy. I made sure all he berries were the edible ones so you don’t end up throwing up everywhere.”

At that he actually huffs a chuckle. “Good to know,” he finally says, his voice warm and rich and just a bit gruff.

“Right, well, enjoy!” You turn to leave and can feel his stare against your back and it takes all your remaining functioning brain cells to walk normally.

You spend the next few days trying to forget all about your ill-fated attempt to play neighbor, figuring if he didn’t want to know you before, he definitely didn’t after that.

You’re coming back from a hike when you spot Logan through the trees walking away from your place, hands tucked deep within his pockets. Your heart quickens in your chest as you walk up to the front door and find the baking dish sitting on the old welcome mat. It’s freshly washed with a folded up piece of paper sitting inside—Thank you.

You’re certain your smile could rival the light from the sun.

+++

It becomes a routine over the next few weeks—you bringing him food and him returning the dish, all without exchanging any words. You’re thankful he’s not much of a talker because you can’t seem to stop making a fool of yourself around him.

And you don’t know why.

He’s a handsome man, that anyone can see, but you’ve never been so flustered around a beautiful man before.

There’s something else about Logan you can’t pinpoint that sets your heart fluttering behind your ribs. He seems lonely in the same way you are, and you wonder if he’s out here to lick and heal old wounds just like you. You have an inexplicable want to help him, even if that means sharing your food leftovers with him and trying to chip away at the wall that surrounds him.

A part of you is hoping he can help break down your walls, too.

You’re waist deep under the kitchen sink when a knock on the door drags you from fixing the leaking drain.

“Ah, fuck,” you curse, trying to maneuver out of the space while also not spilling the stagnant water left in the sink trap. As you set the old drain down you call out, “Just a second!”

You wipe your hands against your thighs and swing the door open to find Logan standing there, your glass baking dish from yesterday in his hands. For a second you blink silently at him, unable to think of anything but the fact that you’re wearing grease stained overalls and probably smell like a swamp.

“Logan, hi,” you finally say, brushing your hair out of your face.

He gives you a strange look as he hands the dish back to you. You open your mouth to speak when he interrupts you, “Why do you feed me?”

His question hangs in the air and you freeze. Of all the things he could have asked, you weren’t sure why you didn’t expect that one. His voice is a little gruff, but underneath there’s something that makes your heart race. Something vulnerable.

You swallow and grip the edge of the glass dish. Logan stares at you, his gaze intense, and you feel exposed. Like he’s trying to dissect you with just a look.

“Oh, well, I don’t know,” you finally admit. “You just…seem like you could use some kindness.”

He raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything else. The silence stretches between you, heavy and charged, and you can feel your pulse quicken. “I can stop if—if you want.”

“No,” he says, his voice rough, but with an undercurrent of tenderness. “No, you don’t have to stop. Just not used to people doin’ things like that for me.”

His admission catches you off guard being the first real piece of personal information he’s shared with you. You’ve gleaned certain things from George—he’s told you about Logan being a mutant and a few pieces of his past—but you know there’s still a world of history hiding behind his loner facade that he keeps hidden. You’re hoping eventually he lets you take a peak inside.

“Everyone deserves kindness, Logan,” you say.

His gaze flickers, a shadow of something crossing his features that makes your heart ache. He shifts on his feet and stares down at the dish in your hands. “I’m not so sure of that,” he replies.

“Well, I am.”

Logan’s eyes drag back up to yours and you try to calm the nervous energy that bubbles under your skin as his stare presses into you. He gives you a small nod then before turning to leave.

He pauses as he hits your driveway and looks back at you, cursing lowly to himself. Scratching at the back of his head, he walks back up the steps and pulls something out of the pocket of his jacket. “I, uh, here,” he says uncertainly as he hands you the small cloth bag.

You can only stare as you take the bag from him, the gift surprisingly light in your hand, but the gesture heavy with unspoken emotion. Your mind races as you think of what could be inside and your heart hammers loudly in your chest.

Logan stands there, eyes not quite meeting yours as he waits for you to open it. Your fingers tremble slightly as you undo the drawstrings and peer inside, finding a mixture of different seeds. You can’t help but trail your fingers through them, feeling the faint warmth they hold from where they were nestled against Logan’s body.

“Oh, Logan,” you murmur, your voice thick with emotion.

You glance up at him and he’s looking at you, scratching at his beard, the faintest hint of blush staining his cheeks. “They’re wildflowers. Don’t know what kind. But, I dunno. I thought you could use them for your garden.”

Your chest tightens as you pull the strings close and tuck the bag in your pocket. “I love them, Logan,” you say, offering him a smile. “Thank you.”

For a moment, you see the tension in his shoulders relax just a bit as he exhales. “Just seemed like something you’d appreciate,” he mumbles, more to himself than to you.

Something has shifted between you and you find yourself itching to touch him, but you don’t. Not yet. The thread holding you two together is there, but thin, and you don’t want it to fray. “I really do appreciate it,” you say softly, stepping just the tiniest bit closer.

Logan nods and his mouth tugs into something that’s not quite a smile, but close. He looks at you for a long moment, the weight of his gaze pressing into you. “Okay. Good.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, he turns and jogs down the steps.

“Guess I’ll see you around then,” you call after him, a smile spreading across your face.

He glances back over his shoulder. “Yeah. I guess you will.”

And maybe, just maybe, the walls around him are beginning to crumble.

+++

Sweat beads across your brow as you work, but you pay it no heed. Your attention keeps slipping to Logan as you pry another nail loose from the rotted board. You’ve fallen into an odd relationship with the elusive man whose property line you share, yet you still barely know anything about him.

It’s been a week since he stopped by and gave you those wildflower seeds. A warmth still spreads in your chest when you think about it. And true to his promise, you do see him around, albeit not as much as you’d like. He seems wary, as if his gift opened up a part of himself he wasn’t ready for you to see.

But at least he doesn’t drop off your clean dishes and run anymore.

As you pry the last nail free, the rotten board comes free and you toss it down onto the grass along with the others. Thankfully, the porch isn’t terribly large and you figure another hour or so to remove the remaining boards before you can start laying down fresh lumber.

The crunch of gravel pulls you from your work and you look up to find Logan walking down the path, a large leather bag in his hand. You look up at him, wiping the sweat off your brow and lean back onto your heels, trying your best not to stare at his forearms.

“Oh, hey, Logan,” you say, wiping your hands against your jeans as you stand. “What brings you to my side of the woods?”

He actually smiles at you and nods towards the porch. “Need help?”

You hate the little flutter you feel pressing against your ribs. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“Well, it’s good thing you’re not asking. I’m offering.”

You blink, caught off guard by his directness. “Oh, well, if you insist,” you say, trying to calm your nerves. “It would be nice to have a second set of hands.”

He sets the leather bag down on the porch with a thud and you catch a glimpse of the tools nestled inside. Logan notices you looking and comments, “I know a few things.” His smirk makes your legs feel like jello.

“Oh, I bet you know a lot of things,” you blurt, and your eyes widen at the double entendre of your words, heat flushing across your face.

Logan laughs, a real laugh, his eyes crinkling. “Well, it’s always good to be well educated,” he says with a wink.

Fuck, you feel like you’re going to spontaneously combust.

Shoving down your raging embarrassment, you lay out your plan to fix the porch and Logan gives a small nod. He starts at the opposite end, prying loose the first board with ease. You try not to stare at the way his muscles move and how his skin begins to slick with the first beads of sweat. You work in silence for a while, the only sounds those of the forest around you.

“So, what actually brought you out here?” Logan finally asks.

You glance over at him and watch as he tosses another board onto the grass. He looks at you expectantly and you sigh. “I got divorced,” you answer honestly. “And I needed something pour my energy into other than wondering where the fuck I went wrong.”

You can’t bring yourself to look at him, your openness leaving you feeling raw, and instead focus on the board in front of you. Anger begins to simmer in your veins at the thought of the last couple of years and you grab the next plank with just enough force to wedge a splinter deep into your palm. A loud curse falls from your lips as you drop the board.

You feel Logan next to you and you suck in a deep breath as he reaches for your hand, his fingers curling around yours. “Lemme see,” he says, pulling you close and you can smell the earthiness of him, like damp soil and campfire smoke. You find yourself staring at him, his proximity intoxicating, as you drink in his long lashes and the slope of his nose.

He tilts your palm towards himself, his fingers pressing gently yet with firm enough pressure to push the splinter out of your skin. Pulling it out the rest of the way, his eyes flick up to yours. “Somehow I don’t think you’re the one that fucked up, sweetheart.” His voice is warm and you want to melt into him.

“Well,” you start, clearing your throat, “I certainly wasn’t fucking his mistresses.”

Something in his eyes darkens and a shiver runs down your spine. “He’s a fool for losin’ you,” he growls, and his words hit you with more force than you’d care to admit.

His hand still lingers on yours, steady and reassuring and warm and for a moment you think he might lean closer. You desperately want him to. To press his mouth against yours, to feel his breath against your skin, to have his taste against your tongue. But he pulls back, his expression one of thin control, but you can see the storm behind his gaze.

“A damn fool,” he mutters under his breath and you can’t help but wonder if he’s talking about himself or your ex.

Logan lets your hand go, turning back towards the porch and you mourn the loss, your skin still tingling from the contact. You swallow hard, trying to shake off the intensity of the moment. It’s Logan—quiet, gruff Logan, who never really sticks around for a real conversation and yet here he is, offering help and showing that maybe he’s not entirely as unaffected by you as you thought.

Your heartbeat drums in your ears as you watch him go back to work, prying up the next board, his muscles flexing beneath his worn shirt. His jaw clenches and there’s a focused determination in his movements and you can’t tell if he’s working out some anger or trying to keep himself in check.

You work in silence for several more minutes, the only sounds being the prying of loose boards and creaking lumber. There’s a tension between you now, more so than there was before, something palpable.

It’s enough to drive you mad.

“What about you?” you finally ask, your voice somewhat hesitant. “You don’t talk about yourself much.”

Logan glances at you from the corner of his eye and his brow furrows, as if he’s weighing whether or not to answer. “Not much to tell,” he grunts, pulling up another board with more force than necessary.

“Somehow, I doubt that. You don’t just wake up one day alone in the woods with forearms like that.”

Logan looks over at you and smirks. “Maybe I’m just really good with my hands.” His voice dips low and you can’t help the warmth that pools low in your belly at his words.

You swallow, your throat suddenly dry. “Yeah, no…yep. I’m starting to figure that out.”

He’s silent for a few moments as he goes back to work and the air between you hums with something charged. “You really want to know?” he asks, his voice rough. “I’ve been around for too long, longer than anyone should. Done things I’m not proud of.” He tosses another plank aside and all you can do it watch him. “I’ve…I’ve hurt people I care about. People I’ve cared about have hurt me. I’m not really sure I belong anywhere, so I just…drift.”

There’s something raw in his voice, something broken and vulnerable, and it catches you off guard. For all his outward strength, there’s man deep down inside who’s lost, and your heart aches for him.

“You belong here,” you say softly.

He doesn’t look at you, but you can feel the tension shift as the weight of your words settle between you. Another board gets tossed aside. “Yeah, maybe.”

He finally raises his gaze to yours and for a moment the world quiets—the forest, the porch, all of it—as his eyes lock onto yours and his expression softens. You offer him a warm smile and then return back to the porch, hesitant to push him any further.

You work comfortably together after that. The old boards removed, Logan helps you place and nail down the new ones. Your conversation is limited to the project, but you don’t mind.

As Logan packs up his tools, you glance over at him. “Thank you.”

A half smile plays at the corner of his mouth. “You’re welcome,” comes his reply as he steps off the porch and heads down the path back towards his cabin.

“Logan!” you call, lightly jogging after him before he slips out of view. He pauses and turns back towards you. “Can I make you dinner?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Haven’t you already been doin’ that?”

“No,” you say shaking your head, “I mean, yes, I have, but like a proper dinner? Fresh from kitchen to table. I can come by you, if you’d like.”

Logan studies you for a moment, his gaze intense and you can feel your heart beating against your ribs. He’s silent for so long you wonder if you’ve overstepped and you open your mouth to speak when he says, “Alright. Come by tomorrow, six o’clock.”

You can’t stop the smile that spreads across your face. “Tomorrow it is.”

+++

You’re up before the sun, your nerves a tangle of raw edges. You lay there, staring at the ceiling and wondering what the fuck you’ve gotten yourself into.

You weren’t expecting to meet someone out here in the woods. You were hoping for tranquility, a distraction to quiet the voice in your head that kept nagging you for how your life veered off course. That maybe if you worked more, did more, loved more you wouldn’t be a thirty year old divorcee.

Instead, you find a mysterious man who sparks within you a flame you long thought extinguished. A ruggedly handsome man who’s somehow wormed his way into your life and has you wondering if maybe he can’t help mend the pieces of your broken heart.

Except you don’t know if that same spark is ignited within him and if his gesture of dinner is simple kindness. A response to the kindness you’ve shown him over the last two months or if he’s feeling that same attraction you do.

God, you hope he does.

You spend the morning cleaning, trying to pour your nervous energy into something productive other than worrying about what the evening may bring. Driving into town, you agonize over what to make even though he’s been eating what you’ve made without complaint for weeks now. You opt to keep it simple—pasta with homemade meat sauce, a nice loaf of bread and a couple bottles of wine.

While the sauce is simmering on the stove you get ready. You dress for comfort, a simple pair of leggings and a flowy top that hangs slightly off your shoulders. You catch your reflection in the mirror and give yourself a silent nod of encouragement. Despite this just being dinner, the night brims with the possibility of maybe something more.

Once the food is prepared, you carefully pack everything in a large basket and begin the walk to Logan’s cabin. The night is cool, but still holds the warmth of day and the promise of summer to come. You feel your anticipation heighten the closer you get to his place and your stomach drops when you see it appear up ahead.

It’s just Logan, you remind yourself.

Stepping up onto his porch, you give a hesitant knock at the door. He greets you almost instantly and you suck in a deep breath. Logan looks good and your heart does a flip as you take him in—well fitting jeans, a clean white shirt underneath a soft red flannel button down, his hair is still slightly damp from a shower.

“You’re early,” he comments, standing aside to let you in. You catch the slight frown tug at his mouth as he notices the basket. “You coulda cooked here, you know.”

“Oh, well, I didn’t know if you’d want me invading your space,” you reply, following him deeper into the cabin and setting the basket down on the counter.

Logan turns back towards you, bracing his hands against the counter. “I don’t mind you in my space.”

His words hang in the air between you and you can feel your pulse quicken. You glance up at him, and the way he’s looking at you—steady and unflinching—sends a thrill down your spine.

You clear your throat, trying to settle the nerves in your chest. “Next time then,” you say lightly, hoping he can’t hear the slight waver in your voice.

Logan’s lips quirk into a half smile. “Next time,” he agrees.

He reaches into a cabinet above him, pulling down a couple of plates and glasses, setting a small table in the corner of the small kitchen. You keep yourself busy unpacking the food, arranging the bread, pasta and sauce on the table, working around him as he uncorks the wine and pours both of you a glass.

Logan joins you then, raising his glass and clinking it gently against yours. He nods in a silent cheers and tips his head back as he drinks, his eyes never leaving yours. You can’t suppress the shiver that shoots down your spine.

Setting down his glass, he serves you and then himself, commenting, “This smells amazing.”

“Family recipe,” you reply, taking another sip wine. “Remind me to make it for you when I have fresh tomatoes. It’s even better then.”

“I’ll have to do that,” he says with a smile.

Conversation starts off slow, but not awkward, as you both test the limits of what you’re wiling to share. Logan’s answers are often short, reserved, but what he does reveal helps bring into focus the outline of the man before you. An outline you’re hoping he’ll let you fill in.

“George says you’re a mutant,” you start slowly and you don’t miss the way his posture stiffens, his fork scraping harshly against the plate.

He goes still and you wonder if you fucked up. Crossed a boundary he wasn’t willing to cross.

Eventually, Logan’s eyes flick up to yours and he lets out a small hum. “He did, did he?”

You nod, chewing. “It doesn’t bother me.”

He’s quiet for a beat. “It bothers most people.”

“I’m not most people,” you reply, your voice soft.

Something in his face softens then, the furrow of his brow a little less pronounced. A slight smile plays at his lips. “No. No you’re not.”

You feel a warmth bloom in your chest and your face flushes. Taking another bite, you ask, “Can I see?”

Logan studies you for a moment and you can see him deciding whether or not to show you that part of him he’d rather keep hidden. He sets the silverware down and he flexes his fingers before resting his palms back on the table. Then, he unsheathes his claws and you can’t stop the gasp that falls from your lips.

You see him flinch at your reaction and he goes to retract his claws and you reach for him. “Don’t,” you say, your fingers hovering just above the blades.

As he relaxes, you gently rest your fingertips against the metal, finding it surprisingly cool but still holding a faint warmth from his body. His eyes drop to where you’re touching him as you slowly begin to trace each blade with your fingers, following the slight curve down to where they emerge from his skin. You look up at him, finding his gaze fixed on you and you shiver under the intensity.

“They’re beautiful,” you whisper. You feel him shudder beneath you as he retracts his claws, leaving your fingertips nestled against the skin between his knuckles.

You pull your hand away from his, mourning the loss of his skin against yours. Logan clears his throat and pulls his hands into his lap, glancing down at them as if they’re foreign, something he’s never taken the time to notice before. He flexes his fingers once more before dragging his gaze back to your face.

“Do they hurt?” you ask quietly.

He shakes his head. “No. Not anymore.”

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “Thank you for showing me.”

Logan studies you for a long moment, searching your face like he’s trying to figure you out. You know he’s probably not used to this, someone seeing him as something other than a mutant, an aberration, someone who should be hidden away. Then, his face softens.

“People don’t usually ask,” he says quietly.

You smile gently, feeling that flame inside you burn just a bit brighter. “I just want to know you.”

He leans back in his chair, his gaze still steady, but more open, as if some of those invisible walls he surrounds himself with have started to come down. If only just enough to let the light shine through.

An unspoken tension simmers, thickening the air, and you know he can feel it too, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s heavy with promise. You turn your attention back to your plate and for a few moments, neither of you speak.

“So,” you say after a beat, “Do you ever use them as forks?”

Logan huffs out a laugh, the sound surprising you and his eyes crinkle in genuine amusement. “I can’t say that I have,” he replies with a smile.

You grin. “You should give it a try.”

“If I do, you’ll be the first to know.”

The rest of dinner passes with easy conversation and you feel your nerves begin to settle, just a bit. Logan seems less guarded too, more at ease than you’ve ever seen him.

You help him clear the table, ignoring his request that you just sit and relax. As you stand next to him, emptying the leftovers into a container, you feel his eyes on you. When you hand him the container, your fingers brush again, but this time he doesn’t immediately pull away. His fingers linger just a bit longer than necessary and your breath catches in your throat.

“Thanks for dinner, he says quietly, voice low. “And for…understanding.”

You nod, feeling that unmistakable pull between you, the tug that’s kept you orbiting closer and closer to him. “Anytime, Logan,” you answer softly. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

There’s a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, like he’s been burned before and is still figuring out if he can trust what you’re offering him. And you understand his turmoil, trust having shattered your heart into pieces, pieces you’re still trying to pick up and reshape.

Logan steps a little bit closer then and before you can say anything else, his hand gently reaches out and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture is simple but intimate and it sends a shiver down your spine, heat pooling lowly in your belly.

“C’mon,” he says. “Let me walk you home.”

He grabs your basket before you can protest and you follow him out into the night. There’s a full moon hanging heavy in the sky, illuminating the path in front of you, yet you remain close to Logan. You curse to yourself as you trip over an exposed root and then you feel Logan reach out for you, his fingers wrapping securely around your own. The heat of his palm against yours is almost overwhelming.

Your cabin comes into view and Logan slows, his fingers slipping from your grasp as he sets the basket down on the porch.

“Good night, Logan,” you say softly as you walk up the steps.

As you turn from him, he reaches for your wrist, his fingers curling and pressing hotly against your skin. Your breath hitches as he climbs the steps to join you on the porch, and your gasps dies in your throat as he tilts your chin up and forces you to meet his gaze.

“Do I make you nervous?” His voice is low, breath hot and damp against your skin.

“Yes,” you breathe, somehow inching closer to him, your fingers reaching for the hem of his flannel and twisting into the fabric.

“Why?” He brushes his nose against yours and you chase after the touch.

Swallowing hard, you look up at him from under your lashes. You tilt further into him, your mouth hovering just over his. “Because I haven’t felt like this in a very long time and I don’t want it to go away.” Don’t want you to go away.

Logan nods and whispers, “I’m not goin’ anywhere.” And then he presses his mouth to yours.

It’s soft, barely a hint of skin against skin, but when you whisper, “Please,” against his lips, Logan growls and then he’s everywhere. His kiss claims you, his tongue licking in your mouth and you whimper as his fingers curl along the nape of your neck somehow pulling you impossibly closer.

You wind your arms around his shoulders, your fingers tangling in the short strands at the back of his head. Your entire world is focused down to the feel of his lips on yours and the press of his fingers against your jaw as he pulls you towards his hungry mouth.

Logan’s grip on you tightens, one hand splayed across your lower back and the other pressed firmly between your shoulder blades, anchoring you to him. The heat between you is palpable, each movement of his lips setting you further aflame. You lose track of time, lost in the sensation of his beard scraping against your skin, leaving a tingling trail in its wake.

When he finally pulls back, you’re both breathless and his forehead rests against yours, your shared breaths mingling in the space between you. His eyes are dark and intense as they search your face and you feel untethered, Logan being the only thing keeping you grounded.

“You okay?” he asks, voice rough, but surprisingly tender as his thumb traces along the line of your jaw.

You nod, swallowing the lump that’s formed in your throat. You don’t trust yourself to speak.

His lips quirk into a small smile. “Good.” He brushes a stray strand of hair away from your cheek, his hand lingering at the side of your face. He presses one last soft kiss to the corner of your mouth before he steps back and walks down the path back home.

+++

You can’t stop thinking about the kiss—Logan’s lips against yours, the taste of his tongue, the press of his hands against your skin, hot and heavy, yet gentle.

You want to live in that moment forever. Want to know only his kisses for the rest of your life, for him to be the first person you kiss good morning and the last person you kiss goodnight. For him to kiss you just because he can, because he misses you, because he can’t get the feel of your mouth out of his mind and he needs to feel you again pressing against him.

You also want to run away, hide yourself from these emotions that are overwhelming you and leaving you feeling raw and exposed and absolutely terrified. You haven’t kissed another man in two years and he broke your heart, leaving nothing but shattered pieces and dust in his wake. Dust that still clings to you despite your best efforts to sweep it up. Those pieces of your heart are still sharp, jagged where they should be smooth.

You’ve always been trusting, choosing to see the light in others as opposed the darkness. Believing deep down that everyone deserves kindness, deserves a second chance, that one bad deed does not a bad person make. But he stole a part of that from you and you hate him for it. Hate that even now, after all this time, he’s able to worm his way into your brain and make you question the motives of the man who’s made you feel more alive than you have in months.

Last night you felt unshackled, unbound by the fear that had chained you for so long. You felt as if Logan’s very touch, his presence, had set your soul on fire and instead of fearing the burn, you were ready to embrace the warmth.

But now, raw contempt begins to simmer in your veins and you need something to pour your frustration into before it threatens to consume you whole.

Throwing your hair up into a messy bun and throwing on a paint-stained shirt and ripped jeans, you head outside looking for a project to sink fingers into. In the small shed behind the cabin, you find a few gardening supplies—a small shovel, trowel, bow rake—and you drag them out and to the overgrown flower beds.

You don’t even bother with the tools at first, ripping at the dead growth with your bare hands, pulling it from the earth in great clumps and tossing it aside. Your pulse beats loudly in your ears as you move from bed to bed, clawing away the old growth, your breathing growing ragged and your palms staining with dirt.

Grabbing the rake, you dig at the remaining plants, tearing at the roots, destroying the new growth. Tears run hotly down your face, blurring your vision and your throat aches from force of your breathing and screams you’ve been holding back.

From behind you, you hear the sound of your name and you whip around so quickly, the rake goes flying from your hands. You can hear the snikt of Logan’s claws as they unsheathe and the splintering of wood as he deflects the rake flying at him. It clatters to the ground between you as he retracts his claws and looks at you, his brow furrowed in concern.

You wonder, then, exactly what you look like in that moment. Dirt caked on your hands and under your fingernails, cheeks flushed with exertion, hair a halo of disarray. The pure adrenaline you’d been running on wanes and your limbs suddenly feel heavy and you sink to the ground in front of him. You can’t bring yourself to look at him, because you’re afraid of what you’ll see.

Logan approaches you slowly, kneeling down in front of you and gently raising your chin to look up at him. The stark worry etched on his face makes you ache and fresh tears burn in your eyes. You wipe at your eyes, which only serves to smear dirt across your face.

“I’m terrified, Logan,” you whisper, wanting to reach for him, but afraid to touch him. “I terrified of how much I like you.”

“You scare me too,” he confesses softly and your heart breaks.

He leans closer, fingers resting hesitantly against your knees. You reach for him too, grabbing on to the open sides of his jacket and pulling him to you. Logan doesn’t flinch, doesn’t push back and instead envelopes you into his arms, your head resting against the solid warmth of his chest.

Safe in his arms, you cry. Harsh, broken sobs as he rubs your back, the soft caress of his fingers along your spine anchoring you to him as he holds you. He murmurs into your hair that he’s got you, to let it all out, and you do.

Eventually, you calm and sigh, pressing your forehead against his chest, loathe to move just yet. “I’m broken, Logan,” you mumble into his shirt. You look up at him then, the softness and concern on his face making you physically ache. “I still have broken pieces where I should be whole.”

Slowly, tentatively, he brings his hands up to your face, cupping your cheeks in his hands. His thumbs brush at the dirt and tears under your eyes and he smoothes the hair away from your forehead. “Maybe some of my pieces fit,” he says, voice low, but steady.

His words send a flood of emotion through you, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him. Then the gravity of what he’s saying hits you—he’s offering you himself, all his jagged and scarred pieces, the pieces no one else sees.

The pieces he wants you to see.

You lean forward, pressing the lightest of kisses against the corner of his mouth. His sigh is hot against your cheek, but he doesn’t press further.

“Thank you,” you whisper into his skin and somehow it feels like the most important thing you’ve ever said.

“C’mon,” he says, “Let me help you get this cleaned up.”

You nod, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. Logan stands, offering you his hand. You take it, your fingers slipping into his and his grip is steady, yet gentle as he helps you up.

Without a word, Logan grabs the broken rake and begins removing the debris from the beds you laid waste to. You watch him work for a moment before joining in, pulling the weeds from the beds you hadn’t gotten to yet. Every now and then your eyes meet, but you don’t say anything. You don’t feel the need to fill the space with words, his presence beside you speaking volumes more than he could ever say.

After a while, Logan pauses and looks over at you, wiping the dirt from his hands into his jeans. “You still got those seeds I gave you?”

“Of course I do.”

“Go get ‘em,” he says nodding towards the cabin. “We’ll plant something new.”

You retrieve the small pouch where you’ve kept it safe and come out to find Logan kneeling in the dirt, his fingers making small pockets of earth to house the new flowers. He looks up at you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You join him on the ground, dropping a few seeds in each well as he moves to create the next one.

“I’m not very good at this,” Logan starts, covering the last well with dirt, “but I promise I won’t break you. You don’t gotta be scared of me.”

He looks at you then, his hazel eyes meeting yours and you reach for his hand, your thumb brushing across his dirt stained knuckles.

“No,” you reply with a smile, “I don’t think I do.”

+++

It’s been three days since that moment with Logan in the garden and the air between you has been quiet. Logan hasn’t come by the cabin, but you hadn’t sought him out either. You weren’t avoiding him, exactly. More a need for space, a chance to process the feelings you felt for him, to test if you were truly ready to open yourself up to him.

Your mind never strays far from him, though. An almost constant loop plays in your brain of the way he held you, the way he spoke, the quiet promise he made not to break you. There’s a large part of you that believes him; your heart is screaming at you shed your lingering doubt and trust him, but your rational brain is grasping desperately to the kernel of truth that vows can be broken.

So you turn to what you do best—pour your energy into other things. The cabin is spotless now, cleaned of disuse and age, turned into a cozy place of retreat, a simple shelter turned into a home. And yet…

You’re sitting on the porch, watching the sun dip lower in the sky, the book you’d been trying to read long forgotten. The forest is peaceful, alive with the sounds of early summer. But as calming as it is, you can’t ignore the ache in your chest—you miss him. More than you thought possible.

Just as you’re about to stand, the sound of boots against gravel catches your attention. You look up and there he is—Logan. His hands are shoved deep into the pockets of his worn jacket as he walks up the path. His look is cautious, as if he’s unsure whether or not you’ll accept his presence.

Your heart skips a beat and you stand, wiping your palms against your jeans as he draws closer. His hazel eyes meet yours and there’s something softer about him, something open.

He stops a few feet away from you, gaze steady. “I wasn’t sure if I should come by.” His voice is still gruff, but quieter than usual. “If you needed space or not.”

“I did, need space. But not from you,” you clarify. You take a hesitant step towards him. “I missed you.”

Logan sighs then, his posture relaxing just slightly. “I wanted so badly to see you. I didn’t know if I should stay away.”

Before you can second guess yourself, you step down from the porch, closing the distance between you. You stand in front of him, noticing the faint lines of tension around his mouth, the way his jaw is clenched as if bracing himself for your rejection.

“Don’t stay away,” you say softly, “I want you here.”

You reach for him, your fingers brushing against his hands as you pull them from his pockets. Logan doesn’t pull away and the warmth of his skin against yours feels like the most natural thing in the world. You feel it then, that familiar pull—the one that’s been there since the beginning, drawing you closer and closer into his orbit, his sun.

You brush your thumbs across his knuckles and look up at him. “You wanna come inside?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll make you something to eat?”

Logan nods, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

As you lead him inside, something in the air between you shifts, something subtle. But you know one thing for certain—you’re not afraid anymore. Not of this.

+++

The sun has set, the food long gone and as Logan’s hand reaches for the front door, you slip in front of him. His scent overwhelms you, that earthy dampness you’ve come to associate with him flooding your senses.

“What if you stayed?” you ask, the slight waver in your voice betraying your boldness.

You watch as his eyes darken and he leans even further into your space. “Do you know what you’re asking, sweetheart?” he replies, eyes searching your face.

Swallowing, you nod. “I do,” you whisper.

Then you slide your arms around his waist, pulling him closer as you lean in and kiss the hollow of his throat. You can feel him swallow hard beneath your lips and you smirk into his skin as you drag your mouth higher, over the long column of his neck to nip at the corner of his jaw.

“Stay,” you murmur in his ear.

Logan turns, his nose brushing against your cheek as he seeks your mouth and you inhale deeply as his lips find yours. His fingers wind themselves into your hair, resting against the nape of your neck as he pulls you closer. You whimper into his mouth when he pulls back, eyes blown black.

“Show me where,” he says, his voice low.

You lead him up the stairs, his hand warm in yours and you barely make it to the top before Logan’s spinning you around, mouth finding yours. His is kiss is demanding, so different from that first one all those nights ago. This is urgent and desperate, like he can’t possibly get you close enough to satisfy the need deep within him. And you feel it too, pouring yourself back equally into the kiss, moaning as his tongue finally slips alongside yours.

Your fingers fumble along the top of his jeans, pulling his shirt from where it’s tucked and sliding your hands up along the sides of his ribs. He rewards you with a deep groan of his own, nipping slightly at your bottom lip.

“Christ, sweetheart,” he rumbles against your lips, kissing you once, twice, “I’ve been dyin’ to feel your hands on me.”

“Me, too,” you reply, gasping as his hands find the hem of your shirt, lifting it just enough to brush his fingers hotly along your skin.

Logan pulls back just enough to look down at your face, his fingers still clutching the fabric of your shirt, but lifting it just a bit higher. His gaze is questioning, asking for silent permission to continue. You nod once and he slowly drags the shirt up, his fingers skimming along your sides, over the swells of your breasts as he pulls the shirt over your head.

Despite the heat coursing through your veins, you shiver under the intensity of his stare. He kisses you again, inhaling deeply, before moving down, nipping over your chin, your throat, in between your breasts.

Logan’s hands follow his mouth, running a trail from your shoulders, down long your spine, easily flicking open the clasp of your bra on the way. He glances up at you as he moves to pull the straps aside, dragging them down your arms.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he asks, his hands coming up to cup your breasts, thumbs fanning out across your nipples.

A jolt of pleasure shoots down your spine and pools low in your belly. You feel like you might spontaneously catch on fire and he’s barely touched you. You can’t remember ever feeling like this when a man has touched you, so consumed by want and need.

His fingers trail lower, brushing along the top of your jeans, popping open the button. You grab for his hand, stopping him. You see the concern flicker across his face and you smile. “Your turn,” you say, sliding your palms up his chest and pushing the flannel from his shoulders, his shirt following suit.

You revel in his muscular physique, your fingers tracing along his collarbones, down over the broad planes of his chest, feeling the wiry hair beneath your fingertips. His muscles flutter beneath your touch as you follow the trail of hair lower, down to the vee between his hips.

Logan’s arousal is evident by the tenting of his jeans, and your eyes locked on his, you dip lower, giving the faintest of caresses over the fabric.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he curses. “Take your pants off.”

It’s a command, not an ask, and one you’re more than willing to comply with.

Nervous energy licks at your skin as your fingers tuck into the waistband of your jeans and pull them down. Logan follows your lead, unbuckling his belt and shoving his jeans over his hips, kicking them aside. His cock juts out proudly, thick and heavy, nestled in a bed of hair.

Logan’s on you before you can kick away the last leg, hoisting you up under your thighs and forcing you to wrap your legs around his hips. His palms are hot against your ass and you can feel his cock trapped between you.

He moves you both to the bed, setting you down before crawling over you and slotting himself between your thighs. Leaning back on his heels, he stares down at you, skin flushed. He kisses you softly once, before dragging a single finger down the center of your chest, hooking it into the waistband of your panties.

“What do you like?” he asks lowly, eyes boring into yours.

You stare at him, unable to comprehend his question as he slides his finger back and forth across your skin. Electric sparks of anticipation crawl up your spine and you can feel the rapid flutter of your heart against your ribs.

“You want me to touch you with my fingers?” His voice is low, so low and you shiver.

Your mouth has gone dry and you can only nod.

“You want me to touch you with my mouth?” Logan leans down, skimming his lips across your collarbone, nipping lightly.

Your fingers stutter across his shoulders and wind themselves into his hair. Logan’s smirk presses into the corner of your jaw. “Want me to touch you with both?”

“Please,” you whine into his neck, breath hot against his skin.

Logan trails back down your body, kisses peppering over your neck, both breasts, your belly before he presses a kiss to the top of your clothed mound. He hooks his fingers into the waistband and looks up at you, asking for permission. At your nod, he pulls he material down, eyes never leaving yours as he trails his fingers down your legs and tosses the fabric aside.

You’re fully bare, exposed in a way you haven’t been in a long time and your nerves blush across your skin. Instinctively, you try to close your legs, but he stops you, his hot palms curling against your thighs.

“You don’t gotta hide from me,” Logan says, kissing your knee and spreading your legs further apart. “You’re so pretty like this. Flushed and wet and smelling so sweet for me.”

A jolt of desire zips down your spine. Nothing could have prepared you for the filthiness of words that would spill from his mouth. Or how much you’d enjoy hearing them.

“I don’t want to disappoint you,” you murmur.

“That’s not possible.”

“Other men have—“

Your words die in your throat as Logan grips your chin, forcing your gaze up to his face. His expression is soft, but his eyes flash with a glint of something dark. “When I fuck you, I’ll be the only man in your bed, understand?”

The roughness and edge in his voice makes you shiver and heat pools between your thighs. You swallow heavily and nod.

“I want this,” he says, his tone softer. “I want you. Whatever you’ll give me.”

Slowly, you reach for his hand and guide his fingers to where you’re wet and aching for him. At the first brush of his fingertips against your folds, you gasp and your fingers dig deeper into his skin.

“Relax, sweetheart,” Logan coos. “I’m gonna make you feel good.”

And then he’s touching you, fingers dragging through your arousal before circling around your clit. He caresses you like he knows you and you’re molten beneath him. One finger, then two slip inside you, pressing against that spot that makes you squirm and grip at the sheets beneath you.

“Fuck,” you breathe, “You weren’t lying.” Logan quirks an eyebrow, fingers still curling within you, his rhythm picking up speed. “You are good with your hands.”

His chuckle rumbles through his chest as he continues to move, this thumb working over your clit. Your hips jolt off the bed when Logan replaces his thumb with his tongue, drawing the sensitive bud into his mouth.

He continues to work your cunt, long, flat presses of his tongue against your clit punctuated by the short, sharp thrusts of his fingers. The dual sensation is enough to wind that tension in your core tighter, building you up higher and higher until you feel yourself reaching that inevitable peak.

“Logan, I—I’m so close,” you gasp, fisting your fingers into his hair.

His growl against your cunt is enough to send you over the edge, the vibrations rippling through your body as your orgasm washes over you. Through half lidded eyes, you meet his gaze from between your thighs, his eyes dark with desire and you shiver at the intensity of his stare.

Logan crawls over you, pressing a kiss to your lips. You can taste yourself on his lips, bright and sour, as he licks into your mouth.

“Do you trust me?”

Logan’s fingers are still moving against you, wringing out the last of your orgasm and you can only nod. He withdraws his fingers and you whine, but he just smirks and taps your hip.

“Turn over,” he commands lowly.

A shudder ripples through you as you willingly comply, rolling onto your stomach as Logan’s palm trails from your hip over the swell of your ass. His fingers kneed into your flesh and you squeak as he curves them over your skin, pulling you up onto your knees, drawing your hips flush with his. The thick feel of his cock presses into your ass and you can’t help but push back, enjoying the strangled moan that falls from his lips.

“I can’t wait to be nestled deep inside you,” he groans, slotting his cock between your thighs, running the length along your wet cunt.

You peer over your shoulder and smirk at him. “Then what are you waiting for?”

Logan lines up then and the air punches out of your lungs as he slowly eases himself in to the hilt. He’s deep at this angle and you feel claimed, owned in the best way possible as he begins to move his hips. The drag of his cock against your walls is exquisite and you’re sure you’ve never experienced pleasure quite like this before.

His fingers dig into the flesh at your hips, grabbing as much as he can to pull you back into him and you push back, meeting him thrust for thrust. His grip is enough to be bruising, teetering that line between pleasure and pain and yet you relish it.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he rasps. “Look so good stretched around my cock.”

Pleasure zips along your spine and curls along your limbs, each drag of his cock against you coiling that band in your belly tighter and tighter. Yet, you need more. You need to feel him, feel his arms around you, on you, feel his mouth hot and open against your skin.

“I need to feel you closer,” you whine. “Please, I—”

Logan’s arm slips underneath you, curling just under your breasts and pulling your back flush to his chest. He holds on, fingertips splaying across your ribcage as he fucks up into you, his breath hot and damp against your ear.

You turn your head just enough to capture his lips, your mouth pressing against his in an open-mouthed kiss. He steals the moan from your throat as his other hand dips to where you’re joined, fingers beginning to circle around your clit.

Slipping a hand into his hair, you hold him to you, your head falling back onto his shoulder. Logan groans when you rake your nails along his scalp and you do it again. Your mixed groans and the wet noises from where he’s thrusting into you fill the room and time seems to stop. There is nothing but the thick feel of him between your legs, the fervent press of his fingers against your clit and the tight grasp of his hand across your breast.

A litany of praise falls from his mouth and his words burn through you, setting you aflame from the inside. It’s too early for thoughts of love and forever, but you can feel something real, something undeniable pulling you together, uniting you in a way more than just physical. You’re bound to him.

Logan’s hand slides up your sternum, his fingers coming to cup your jaw, pulling your focus back to him. The pad of his thumb pulls at your lower lip. “Come for me, sweetheart,” he husks into your ear. “I wanna hear those pretty sounds you make.”

And you do, two more forceful thrusts sending you teetering over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you. Logan doesn’t stop, fucking you through wave after wave, his thrusts getting sloppier as he chases his own release.

“Let me feel you, Logan,” you pant, your breath coming out in short gasps. “Please.”

With a deep groan into your shoulder he comes, his cock spasming deep within you, painting your womb with his seed. His arm around your hips holds you firmly in place as he uses your body to wring out the last of his pleasure, shallowly thrusting as your walls caress him. When he finally stills, breath hot against your skin, you can feel your combined come slick against your thighs.

You don’t know how long he holds you like that, back to chest, keeping you in his arms simply because he can.

Only later, when the sweat begins to cool on your skin and your flesh pebbles, does Logan lay you down, finally slipping from within you. He pulls you close and you rest your head against his chest, the comforting lull of his heartbeat echoing in your ear.

You lightly trace your fingertips over the crest of his hipbone just to feel him beneath you. His breathing evens out, approaching that blissful edge of sleep when you glance up at him. Logan opens his eyes, gaze meeting yours and he smiles.

“Logan?”

His hum vibrates through his chest.

“I think we’re healing each other.”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he answers, “I think we are.”

#logan howlett x you #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #origins wolverine #origins logan howlett #the wolverine #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine smut #logan howlett fic #logan howlett fanfiction #logan x reader #logan howlett x fem!reader

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ssorenz · 8 months ago

Text

everybody knows that im a good girl officers!

pairing: . ݁₊ ⊹ .: sukuna ryomen n’ toji fushiguro

synopsis : . ݁₊ ⊹ baking gone wrong! (or maybe right in your case?)

contains: sexual content MDNI, spanking, degradation, full nelson position, double penetration, blah blah blaaaah.. wc: im honestly not even sure

header from: . ݁₊ ⊹: lady k and the sick man

a/n :BABE WAKE UP, DSIIRES FINALLY POSTED 🗣️‼️ but all jokes aside, hii loveliess im back 😊!! i decided to finally post something, and since this was sitting in my drafts, why not post it? i do admit the ending is kind of rushed, so please forgive me🙇🏽‍♀️ but i hope you all enjoy, comments and requests are gladly appreciated! <3

sweet, sugary, scents of vanilla and cinnamon danced throughout the air as sunlight streamed in through your lace curtains, casting warm, golden hues upon your kitchen countertops.

baking flour dusted your cheeks as a determined glint shined in your eyes, precisely measuring the ingredients for the cake you were baking. it was your best friends birthday, after all. what better way to surprise her than with a home-baked cake?

once the cake pans were safely in the oven, you let out a sigh of relief. this morning had been dedicated to baking, and you were longing for a moment of relaxation. retrieving your cellphone, you settled onto the couch, letting your mind wander as you scrolled away through the screen to pass the time for a few minutes.

but minutes turned into moments, and the once familiar, sweet aroma began to fade away. a faint whiff of something burning wafted into your nose, snapping you out of your current reverie.

panicked, you rushed to the oven, heart pounding in your chest. smoke billowed from the oven, tendrils curling ominously towards the ceiling.

with a gasp, you yanked open the oven door, greeted by a charred mess where your sweets once stood. panicking, you frantically reached for your phone and dialed the fire department.

standing anxiously outside your house, you clutched her phone tightly, desperately awaiting for the distant sound of sirens to signal the arrival of the fire department.

soon enough, the welcoming wail of an approaching engine filled your ears—and within moments, the fire truck came to a brief halt in front of your home. two firefighters emerged from the truck, and as they stepped onto the pavement, their imposing figures caught your attention.

the first firefighter, with a rugged build and striking pinkish hair, exuded confidence as he surveyed the scene. beside him, stood his colleague, tall and commanding with dark black hair, his presence radiating confidence as well as cockiness.

the males strode up to you, their boots echoing against the pavement. the salmon-haired one with distinct facial tattoos— who’s badge read S. RYŌMEN, glared at you with annoyance while his counterpart surveyed the area.

"alright, what's the deal here? we got a call about some sorta emergency, but I'm not seeing any flames. don't tell me we rushed over here for nothin’.” he spoke, his deep voice carrying an air of authority.

the raven-haired officer's— who’s badge read T. FUSHIGURŌ—eyebrows knitted together, his deep, husky, voice tinged with irritation. "are we being pranked here, girl?" he questioned snarkily, his skepticism evident as he glanced around the seemingly ordinary surroundings. however, as you apologized and ushered them inside, their expressions softened slightly, replaced by a mix of curiosity and concern.

as they stepped into the kitchen— their boots leaving faint imprints on the linoleum floor— a wave of smoke greeted them, swirling lazily in the air. the acrid smell of burnt pastries hung heavy, creating an uncomfortable atmosphere in the room. ryōmen coughed lightly, his hand instinctively reaching for the collar of his uniform to cover his nose.

fushigurō sighed heavily as his gaze fixed on the charred remnants of what was once a baking sheet. "well, would you look at that? someone tried playing chef but ended up setting the kitchen on fire," the black-haired officer he muttered, his annoyance palpable in the air as he casually observed the smoke-filled chaos before him.

“i'm so sorry for the false alarm," you apologized, your voice filled with genuine remorse. "I was trying to bake a cake and—well—things got a bit…out of hand…”

the pair exchanged glances, then moved swiftly, their practiced efficiency a stark contrast to the mess you had inadvertently created. they quickly ventilated the room, opening windows and turning on fans to dispel the lingering smoke. as they moved, they checked for any remaining embers or hotspots, ensuring that the fire was completely out and that there was no risk of it reigniting.

as the firefighters continued their work, you couldnt help but stare. their tall, bulked figures were much larger compared to your own. the way you could hear their subtle grunts as they finished up their job…

lets just say, your mind definitely started to wander elsewhere..

ryōmen kneeled down and inspected the oven, his brow furrowing deeper. "looks like yer’ cake batter overflowed and caught fire," he remarked, his voice tinged with frustration. "next time, keep an eye on the oven temperature."

yet of course, you werent paying him any attention listening, too deep in the wet daydream that was playing idly in your mind. the pink-haired officer stood up and cleared his throat, “miss?”

you jumped, his voice snapping you out of the “daydream” you were having. you nodded vigorously, feeling the heat of embarrassment flush your cheeks. "i will—i promise. thank you both so much for coming so quickly."

you hurried to your cupboard to get them some water. rummaging through your cabinets, you managed to find a couple of clean glasses, and filled them with cool water from the tap. when you returned, they were just finishing up, their equipment neatly packed away.

"here," you said, offering the glasses. "please, have some water. it's the least i can do."

fushigurō took a glass with a nod of thanks, while his partner accepted the other with a grin. "thanks," he said, "surprised ya’ didnt burn the water this time…”

you couldn't help but chuckle softly, the tension of the situation easing slightly with the joke. "i try my best," you replied, a small smile playing on your lips. "but m’ really sorry for the trouble. is there any way i can make it up to you both?"you offered, hoping to ease the tension in the room and show your gratitude for their prompt response.

ryōmen glanced at his partner before responding, his expression twisting mischievously.

he placed his glass down as he leaned back on the kitchen table, his tall figure towering over you darkly.

“you said you’re really sorry, hm?” he spoke lowly, his crimson eyes now lowering, gazing onto you.

you nodded eagerly, unsure of what he was implying. “um, well— yes of course-“

the officers lust-laced voice spoke words you doubted you would ever hear…

"then prove it."

so here you were— half-naked in your living room, in a standing full nelson position, sandwiched between the two men that were once standing in your kitchen—now both pounding you silly.

your helpless mewls mixing with the lewd squelches your cunt made filled the empty silence in the room. fushigurō’s long, thickness was so prominent as it kneaded itself against your g-spot, making you fall into a cock-drunk daze.

"that feel good, huh'?", toji muttered, gazing lasciviously into your eyes while supporting your legs high. it was so intimate— but so naughty too, the way he was so filthy..

you nodded in reply, clearly too overstimulated to speak properly. luckily, sukuna was quick to amend your actions—sending a swift, sharp, strike against your ass.

"didn't he ask you a question? say it properly, slut, don't make us waste our breath like you did our time now," he snarled behind you. his strokes were so rugged and mean, much meaner than tojis (which was unsurprisingly fitting for the man), making you whimper breathlessly from the pleasure.

"f-feels s'good tojiiiii—“ you whined out the name in reply, hiccuping. it was true, the way they both grinded against each other, inside of you, leaving you trembling, aching with pleasure. this position requiring them hit harder, deeper, inside of your soaked, throbbing slit— it was too much.

"good fuckin' girl, look at ya'— squeezin' us so tight. yer takin' us so well," fushiguro commented, leaning in for a kiss. his scarred lips passionately met your own, letting out a soft, suppressed groan. he went deeper into the kiss, his tongue dominating your mouth.

his hands gripped your hips tightly, pulling you closer to him as he continued thrusting into you from the front. meanwhile, his counterpart pounded away at your stuffed cunt relentlessly; each stroke sending shockwaves of pleasure through every nerve ending in both your bodies.

you found yourself lost in this sensual haze of double penetration bliss— moaning uncontrollably into toji’s mouth while feeling your hole being stretched to its limits by these two. your entire world consisted of nothing but the rhythmic movement between your legs and the taste of salty sweat on fushigurō's lips as ryōmen whispered dirty nothings into your ear that only fueled your desire even more.

sukuna’s hands gripped tightly onto your hips as he pounded into you harder than before, his breathing becoming ragged in your ear with each passing second. toji followed suit by grabbing one of your legs and lifting it up high enough for him to hit a new angle inside of you— sending shockwaves of pleasure throughout every inch of your being.

“filthy whore— paying your debt with—ngh.. dick,” sukuna began, still thrusting into you, but at a much irregular pace now. “who knew such a seemingly innocent thing like you could be so dirty.. starin’ us, shit, up and down like slabs of meat..”

as the intensity of their movements increased, so did the intoxicating pleasure coursing through your body. you felt like you were on the brink of orgasm yourself— and apparently so did ryōmen and fushigurō. both men let out loud grunts, no longer holding back, and began to thrust deeper. it was painfully clear that they were close to reaching their climaxes.

“damn, m’so fuckin’ close— ya gonna let us cum inside? knock up this— fuck, tight ass cunt of yers’?” toji grunted.

"please," you begged between gasps for air, "cum inside me...need it..so badly.” your voice was hoarse from the countless moans and whines that ehshshsh. your whiny, raspy pleas and helpless cries were enough to send both men over the edge. so, with one final push from fushigurō and a deep moan from ryōmen, both men came inside of you simultaneously - painting every crevice with their warming, sticky ropes of essence.

as they both released inside of you, your body was hit with an overwhelming wave of pleasure unlike anything you had ever experienced. your cunt clenched tightly around their cocks as they emptied themselves into you, milking every last drop from their swollen, pulsating shafts.

your eyes rolled back into your head— a mixture of pain and ecstasy that left you breathless moments afterward. tears streamed down your face from the sheer intensity of the orgasm that coursed through every inch of your limp body.

the room was silent for a moment as the three of you caught your breath. you could feel their cum slowly dripping out of you as the two men pulled out, leaving behind a sticky mess beneath them.

looking up, toji’s lust-filled stare met your own, a small scar-ridden smirk decorating his face. “that was fuckin’ incredible, god,” he said before ryōmen spoke teasingly behind you..

“but you know, theres better ways to get fucked then damn near burning your house down..”

#jujutsu kaisen #anime #jjk #jjk smut #dsiires blog #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #jujutsu toji #jjk sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #toji x reader #toji smut #sukuna smut

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punkshort · 2 months ago

Text

Evergreen | Chapter One: Denial

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Tommy encourages Joel to join bereavement group counseling, where he meets you. You connect over a similar loss and the common thread of loneliness, leading to something unexpected for you both.

Chapter Warnings: grief, angst, mentions of OC deaths, mild references to: suicide, self harm, drug use (none by reader or Joel), language, panic/anxiety attack (Joel), Joel POV

WC: 8.8K

A/N: I've been working on this goddamn series since May. Sorry it's taken me so long to get around to it but I am committing to a posting schedule now that it is almost complete and I appreciate you all for being so patient. Hope you enjoy tons of fluff and softness and angst.

Series Masterlist

Joel's hands gripped the steering wheel as he stared blankly at the faded brick building connected to the small, run down parking lot. He watched as the clock ticked down to six in the evening, and with each passing minute a new car parked nearby or someone walked through the double doors. He wasn't sure what he expected, but he was surprised to see people of all ages streaming inside.

Then he saw a young woman with two children, one in each hand, neither of which could have been over seven years old, walk inside with watery eyes and he dropped his gaze to his lap in shame.

Mia had been gone for nearly ten years. He had no business being there. His grief wasn't fresh. Over the years, he's learned to cope with it, to live alongside it. The people who were there that night needed the support.

Joel didn't need support. He was just lonely.

He reached for his key, still dangling in the ignition, when his phone rang. With a sigh, he patted down the front of his jeans until he located his phone, then lifted his hips off the worn seat with a grunt so he could fish it out.

"Yeah?"

"You better not be thinkin' 'bout leavin'."

Joel swiveled around in alarm, searching the parking lot for his brother's truck, but all he saw were the last few stragglers hurriedly walking up to the front doors, the anguish practically weighing them down as they moved.

"You watchin' me now?"

Tommy chuckled on the other end.

"Nah, I'm at home. I just know you."

Joel rolled his eyes as the clock ticked to 6:01 on the dash.

"This is stupid, Tommy."

"It ain't stupid. It's been almost ten years and you've never looked twice at another woman. You can tell me you've moved on or that you're fine, but I'm not buying your bullshit," Tommy said sternly on the other end. "I don't think you ever gave yourself a chance to process what happened and it's important you do that. For your mental health and all that."

"Maria tell you to say that?" Joel scoffed, but still unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door.

"Maybe. Don't matter who said it, it's true."

"Fine. I'm walkin' in now, I'll call you later," Joel said, then hung up without waiting for a reply.

The building wasn't very big. From the lobby, Joel could hear a male's voice making what sounded like brief introductions as he strolled quickly down the hall. He rested his hand on the push bar and took a deep breath. Right as he was about to enter, he heard someone else's light footsteps jogging up behind him. He turned around as you approached, a little breathless and with a guilty smile.

"Oh, good, I'm not the only one who's late," you said, nodding towards the door.

"Uh, yeah," Joel said, clearing his throat softly, "we can share the heat," he joked, opening the door and stepping aside so you could walk through first. You shot him a grateful look and mouthed thank you before entering the room.

The group all turned their heads at the disruption, as expected, but the counselor waved them in with a warm smile.

"Welcome! Have a seat, we were just getting started."

Joel found the first empty chair he could, in the very last row closest to the door. You glanced around the room before sliding into the same row as him, just a few seats down.

"As I was saying, welcome to the grief and loss support group. I'm Dr. Harris, but please feel free to call me Ryan."

Ryan was young. Definitely under forty. Something about that irked Joel. He imagined this man going to school to learn how to be caring, how to listen and say all the right words at the right time so he could make a decent paycheck and call himself doctor while he went home to his wife and picket fence and his patients went home with a gaping hole in their hearts.

"There is no wrong way to grieve," Ryan was saying from the podium with a practiced look of solemnity. "All of you are here for different reasons. And while you may look around here and think nobody else could possibly understand what you are feeling, I am here to tell you that you are simply wrong." Ryan took a moment to let his words settle over the group before continuing. "We have all lost somebody in our lives. That is the common thread that weaves us all together. And I'm here to tell you to use it." Ryan clenched his fists for emphasis and Joel had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. "Lean on each other. Listen to one another. This is a safe space. Nobody will judge you here, no matter what you may think, everybody in this room is here for the same reason."

After what felt like an eternity, Ryan invited the people in the room to approach the podium to speak, no longer than ten minutes, he had said, reminding everyone that their time was limited and they always could speak again at the next meeting.

One by one, people trickled up to the front of the room. First it was an elderly woman who explained with tears in her eyes that her husband of forty years passed away a month ago.

"It sounds silly," she sniffled, "but it feels like I'm... untethered. Like I lost my connection to this world when he left and I'm scared I might just... float away."

Next was a man around Joel's age who visibly struggled to hold back his tears about his late sister.

"I just keep reminding myself I didn't cause it, I can't control it, can't undo it. I'm really mad at myself for not paying attention to the warning signs. She was struggling, y'know?" His glassy eyes addressed the group briefly before he cast his gaze back down. "The best thing I can do is try to rebuild. Don't let the anguish fester. Don't let it consume me. Because she wouldn't want that."

After that, a girl no older than twenty, arms and neck covered in tattoos walked to the front. "She was my best friend since we were eight. And I know it's my fault, I know it is," she choked out, tears slipping down her cheeks. "I gave her her first hit. I could see she was falling too deep into it and I didn't try to help her, I was too focused on my own shit and not seeing what was right in front of me. To this day, I can't look her mom in the eye-" the girl hung her head and took a moment to gather herself. Chairs squeaked as the group patiently waited for her to continue. "But I'm clean and sober almost six months now," she said with a watery smile. A small round of applause broke out amongst the group and she nodded her thanks. "I'm thinking about going to school for social work. Maybe I can honor her memory in some way."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw you cross and uncross your legs nervously but made no move to walk to the front.

Same as him.

When the clock on the wall ticked closer to seven, Ryan addressed the group one final time.

"I'll stick around in case anybody wants to have a talk after group. Just a reminder that I'm only here once a week, but my esteemed colleague, Grace, runs another group on Tuesdays, so please feel free to stop by one or both. I also left some cards in the back next to the coffee. My information is on there if you would like a one on one appointment and on the back is the crisis hotline. Please take one, you never know when you may need it."

The room collectively seemed to stand, a murmur rippling through the group as people began to softly speak again, reaching out to neighbors, either introducing themselves or catching up from the last session. Joel scratched at his chin and looked around the room as people continued to filter around. Some paired off to grab coffee, some went to talk to Ryan, but Joel just stood there. All alone.

He took a deep breath and headed for the back, then lingered at the small stack of business cards Ryan had mentioned. He picked one up and flipped it over, studying it, when he heard a soft voice behind him.

"Excuse me," you said, and he swiveled around in surprise.

"Oh, sorry," he replied, stepping to the side so you could reach the coffee. He pretended to look at the card but watched as you filled up a cup. He waited for you to add cream or sugar but you didn't. You lifted the cup to your lips and took a tentative sip before recoiling at the heat and doing it again.

"That, uh, any good?"

Your eyes locked onto his and you shrugged. "'Bout what you'd expect."

He smiled and looked around the room, fidgeting with the edge of the card before sliding it into his pocket. "This your first session, too?"

You shook your head and stepped aside, a little closer to him, so others could get to the coffee. "I've been coming here almost two months."

That surprised Joel. Based on the way the rest of the group seemed familiar with each other, he had suspected the two of you were both new.

"Two months? Wow," Joel said, "how's it workin' out for you, if you don't mind my askin'?"

You sighed and gave him a little smile.

"Some days are better than others. But I figure it doesn't hurt, so..." you trailed off and crossed your arms, your fingertips tapping against the paper cup. "My mom begged me to come, so I did. I think it makes her believe she's helping in some way by pushing it and I grew tired of feeling like an emotional burden."

Joel frowned. "I'm sure that ain't true. No parent thinks their kid is an emotional burden."

You chuckled and drained the rest of your cup. "You'd be surprised." You tossed the cup into the trash before giving him a brighter smile. Although expressing your emotions was the entire reason you were there, you still felt uncomfortable doing it. "So this was your first time? What did you think?"

"Jury's still out," Joel replied honestly. "Promised my brother I would give it a try, same as you. My daughter just went off to college last month and I think he and his wife are worried 'bout me bein' all alone for the first time in, well... forever, I suppose." His lips pursed in thought for a moment. "Feels kinda like I don't belong here. My wife passed almost ten years ago. I've learned to live with it by now. It ain't as raw as all that-" he gestured up to the podium, referencing all the individuals who poured their hearts out for the past hour. Then he realized he was rambling and chuckled. "Sorry. Can't seem to shut up." He looked at you sheepishly and you smiled back.

"That's good. That's what you're supposed to do here," you assured him, then took a deep breath. "I lost my fiancé a year ago, so I can relate... kind of."

"I'm sorry," he said, furrowing his brow and examining your face. "You're so young, you shouldn't know what that feels like at your age."

"Not that young. I'm thirty-one," you joked. He laughed and rubbed his chin.

"Well I got twenty years on you, seems pretty young to me."

"You're fifty-one?" you asked, and he nodded. "You look good, I wouldn't have guessed a day over..." you trailed off as you studied his face and he grinned.

"Go ahead, be honest."

"Forty-three," you decided, and Joel laughed. When was the last time he felt this lighthearted?

"Well that's the nicest thing I've heard all week," he replied. The room began to thin out and you shifted your weight.

"Well, I guess I should get going," you told him, almost sounding regretful. Then you pinched your eyebrows together. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"Joel," he said, sticking an arm out to shake your hand. You gave him a warm smile before telling him your name, your hand getting dwarfed by his thick, rough fingers.

"Will I see you next week, Joel?"

"Yeah," he replied, walking out with you and holding open the door. "I'll give it another chance."

"Good. I mean, you know, I'm glad you're giving it another chance," you found yourself inexplicably stumbling over your words and before your face began to heat up you veered off towards your car with a quick wave.

Joel's eyes trailed after you for a minute before he opened the door to his truck and climbed inside. He absentmindedly rubbed his thumb against his lower lip, lost in thought while he stared straight ahead at the emptying parking lot. Then you drove by in a higher end white SUV and he watched as you took a right turn out of the lot and disappeared down the road. He sighed and started his truck, realizing he was one of the last cars in the lot, and decided to stop at a fast food drive thru on the way home.

"Uncle Tommy told me you went to a grief support group the other day, how did it go?" Sarah asked him over FaceTime. He pushed the lever on his recliner and leaned back into the chair with a grunt.

"S'alright," he mumbled.

"Did you share anything?"

"No."

"Well, why not?"

"'Cause, baby girl, these people just lost someone close to 'em. I can't get up there and talk 'bout your mama, it's been so long-"

"That doesn't matter," she said, interrupting him. He could hear other kids in the background laughing but she remained focused on her screen. "I don't think you've ever really processed Mom's death and it's important to me that you try. I worry about you, old man," she teased, and Joel grinned.

"No need to worry 'bout me, I'm stayin' busy."

"Yeah, doing what? And don't tell me you're eating frozen meals and watching baseball because it'll break my heart."

Joel's eyes drifted to the empty plastic tray on the coffee table.

"No," he said gruffly. "Ain't baseball season. I'm watchin' basketball."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Dad," she whined, "what about your friends? The guys from work?"

He didn't have the heart to tell her they were busy with their families, with their wives, so he lied.

"Yeah, I'm gonna get together with Jimmy later this week. Gonna shoot some pool."

"That sounds great!" Sarah exclaimed, her face instantly brightening. Her eyes snapped up to someone behind her phone and she grinned, holding up one finger, then looked back at him. "Listen, Dad, I gotta run. I promised a few friends I would go to the football game with them."

"Oh, so you'll watch football with your friends and not me?" he teased, and she giggled. "Alright then, text me when you get back home safe."

"I will. I love you."

No matter how many times he heard it, those words always warmed his heart.

"Love you too, baby girl."

The call ended and he set his phone down with a sigh. Sarah was right. He couldn't waste away in his house all alone, waiting for her to come home to visit or for Tommy and Maria to come by for dinner. He needed to get a hobby. He glanced outside then looked at the time before turning off the television and pushing himself out of his recliner with a groan. He shuffled down the hall to his bedroom to change out of his old sweatpants and ratty tshirt, then snatched his keys off the kitchen counter and headed out to the driveway.

He drove aimlessly through town, his window down with his arm hanging out, soaking up the sun's rays. Kids were playing on the sidewalks and people were walking their dogs or pushing strollers. Everyone just seemed so... happy. Content.

Maybe he should get a dog.

Maybe he should start with a fish, first.

He jumped on the highway and cruised with one hand on the steering wheel. Hank Williams crooned from the radio and Joel took a deep, relaxing breath. He was coming up on the exit for the mall. Sarah loved dragging him to the mall. A smile played on his lips and he figured why not.

He veered off the highway and slowed when he approached the red light, the mall parking lot straight ahead. It didn't look terribly busy. With the weather as nice as it was, he imagined most people would be spending their time outside.

Joel found a good spot right out front. He shoved his hands deep in his pockets and walked inside through the Macy's. A blast of freezing cold air conditioning hit him like a ton of bricks, cooling the sweat that was collecting on the back of his neck. He managed to make his way through the maze of the department store and entered the mall itself. There were a few groups of girls around Sarah's age giggling and carrying shopping bags and the random couple here or there walking into William Sonoma or Brookstone.

When he passed by the food court, he saw a few solitary older men sipping coffee and reading the paper or people watching. Joel huffed under his breath, wondering who on earth would come to the mall just to read a paper until he realized he was no better.

Was he going to become just like them one day? Would he come to the mall to nurse a coffee just so he wouldn't feel so alone? The thought had his throat closing up.

He paused and leaned against a railing overlooking the bottom floor of the mall, pretending to be looking for someone when in reality he was struggling to breathe. His heart was fluttering too fast in his chest and his vision was narrowing.

"Shit," he whispered to himself, rubbing his eyes and trying to focus on taking deep breaths. It was like reality crashed down around him all at once: Sarah was moved out of the house. Tommy was happily married. And Joel was going to die all alone.

He gasped and blinked, trying to clear his head and mentally talk himself down, but it was no use. He leaned forward a bit to rest his forehead on the cool, stainless steel railing but his knees began to buckle. Just when he thought he would need to stop someone and beg them to call an ambulance, he heard someone say his name, temporarily snapping him out of his daze.

"Are you okay?" you asked, the smile slipping from your face when you noticed how flush he looked. He could only manage to shake his head. Without hesitating, you wrapped an arm around his shoulders and helped him stand, then glanced around. Spotting an empty bench, you led him over and helped him sit. You rubbed your palm over his upper back soothingly and sat next to him, reminding him to breathe deeply until his vision cleared and he felt his strength return.

"Christ," he mumbled. He sat up and leaned back so the back of his head rested on the bench and stretched his long legs out. "Thank you," he added, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

"No problem," you said, "is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Or, no. I don't know," he sighed, dropping his hand from his face. "I think it just hit me all at once."

You slid over on the bench to give him more room. "What hit you all at once?"

"That my little girl is growin' up and -" he stopped himself, the words and I'm all alone getting trapped in his throat. "And I just miss her, is all."

You slowly nodded and glanced around the mall. "What does she like?"

He smiled. "Clothes. Music. Makeup. Books."

"What kind of books?"

"The fantasy kind. Y'know, like Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter."

A huge grin spread across your face. "Follow me, I have an idea," you said, standing up and looking down at him before you realized you might have overstepped. "I mean, unless you're-"

"No, let's go," he replied, standing up and stretching out an arm for you to lead the way. He fell in step next to you as you led him down towards the other end of the mall and after a few minutes, he realized where you were leading him.

"The bookstore?"

"Yep," you said cheerily, shooting him a playful grin. "Trust me."

And he did.

"There's some really incredible series out there right now. Why don't we pick one out, you can read it and share it with her so you guys have something to do together from a distance? Do you know if she's read The Word of the Heir? That's by an incredibly talented author who actually got the idea when she was only seven years old," you told him excitedly, leading him deep into the bookstore, dodging tables and displays until you made it to the fantasy section. Joel slowed down and looked around, his panic attack slipping further and further from his mind.

"Uh, I ain't sure," he replied as you held up the book. You tucked it under your arm and began to look again.

"How about Empire of Kings? I haven't read that one but the author is relatively new and I've heard he's an extremely talented storyteller."

Joel shrugged, again unsure what Sarah may or may not have read. All of the titles sounded so foreign to him until his eyes landed on the spine of a thick, hardcover book.

"Oh, this one sounds familiar," he said, plucking it from the shelf. "The Crimson Stone. I think she wanted to read this but I don't think she ever finished it. It's a series-"

"Yeah, I know that one," you told him quietly. He glanced down at the book again and read the author's name.

"Daniel Davis, ain't this the guy who died in that bad wreck downtown?" Joel mumbled as he flipped the book over in his hands to read the back. You nodded. "Maybe I'll get this one."

"Don't waste your money, I can give it to you for free," you said, gently taking it from his hands. You ran your palm distractedly over the cover before flipping it open and looking at the tiny black and white photo of the author on the inside jacket. "This was my fiancé," you added, your voice thick. Joel's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Shit," he mumbled. "I-I'm sorry, his name just sounded familiar, I remember it from the paper..." he trailed off, floundering for what to say to comfort you. Why couldn't he fucking think?

"It's okay," you told him, waving him off, but the guilt still laid heavy in his chest. "There's no way you would have known." You slowly closed the book, giving the picture one more glance, and handed it back to him. "But really, if you want to read them I have tons of copies just sitting around. He had a few other books outside of this series, as well, if you guys wanted them."

Joel's eyebrows knit together. "I don't wanna take your books. They gotta have sentimental value or somethin'."

"No, seriously, I have boxes of them just sitting there. He was in the middle of signing copies for readings he was supposed to do before-" you stopped yourself and cleared your throat. "Anyway. I can bring them to group next week or you can come by the house and look through them yourself if you like."

Joel nodded and nervously chewed the inside of his cheek. "Do you wanna talk 'bout it?"

You looked up at him then, all wide eyed and filled with so much sadness that it made his chest ache. No one so young and pretty should have to go through so much pain. Your eyes drifted over his face for a moment, quietly studying him before responding. "Yeah. I kind of do."

Joel looked over his shoulder and spotted the café across from the bookstore. "You wanna get a coffee and find a quiet bench or somethin'?"

"That sounds nice," you replied, so he put the books back on the shelf and walked out into the mall. He spotted a bench near an empty storefront and he told you to go have a seat with the promise of bringing you back something to drink. There wasn't a line at the counter. He couldn't imagine many people wanted coffee that late in the day, so it only took a few minutes before the barista slid the two cups of black coffee across the counter and he met you back at the bench.

"Black, right?"

You smiled and gingerly took the cup. "Yeah, how did you know?"

"From group the other day," he replied, then sat down with a grunt. You sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, each of you letting your coffees cool before you spoke.

"I usually don't talk about it. Every week I tell myself I'm gonna go up to that podium and pour my heart out and every week I chicken out."

Joel didn't say a word. He learned early on with Sarah when she was upset, she just wanted someone to listen to her. So that's exactly what he did. He sipped his coffee and just listened. And before you even realized it, you were telling him everything.

You began by telling him Daniel was from Austin but you met in Portland, where you grew up. For a while, the two of you tried doing a long-distance relationship, but once you were finished with school you took him up on the offer to move in with him in Texas. Shortly thereafter, he proposed and you had spent the last year of his life planning your dream wedding. The night of the accident, you had been touring a venue an hour outside the city. It was dark when you finished up and drove back home.

Daniel didn't do anything wrong. You insisted Joel knew that first.

A truck driver had fallen asleep at the wheel and ran a light, completely crushing the driver's side and killing Daniel instantly. Somehow, you had only come out of the accident with a small concussion and a badly bruised chest from the seatbelt.

"Jesus," Joel muttered when you exhaled a shaky breath. "I'm sorry, darlin'. That's some fucked up shit." His eyes widened and he straightened up in his seat. "Shit, sorry for cursin'... twice." He scratched the back of his head uncomfortably and a slow smile spread across your face. He nearly jumped out of his skin when you burst out laughing.

"Thank you," you said in between giggles. He grinned, confused but happy you were laughing and not crying. "I needed that. And you're right, it was some fucked up shit."

Joel chuckled and took a sip from his coffee. He heard his phone ring so he pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the screen before silencing the call and putting his phone away.

"You can take it," you said, wiping a stray tear from your eye and jutting your chin towards his phone.

"Just my brother. I'll call him back later."

"Ah, the infamous brother that made you go to group?"

"The very same."

"Younger or older?"

"Younger, but the way he bosses me 'round you'd never know it," Joel said with a grin.

"He's probably just looking out for you."

"He knows I'm feelin' especially lonely without Sarah. Sarah's my daughter, by the way," he said, pulling his phone out and showing you his lock screen: it was a selfie of him and Sarah on the beach, Joel looked red as a lobster and Sarah's hair looked tangled from the wind but there was no denying the happiness in both their eyes.

"She's beautiful," you said warmly. He smiled and put his phone away.

"Got that from her mama."

"I don't know, I see a little bit of you in her smile," you teased, bumping up against his shoulder playfully. He rolled his eyes but didn't argue.

"What I'm tryin' to say is, I can relate a bit to what you're goin' through. Y'know, losin' a partner and feelin' like you got no one left," he said. You took a deep breath.

"Yeah, sounds like you do."

Joel nervously picked at his jeans, trying to figure out the right way to say what he wanted to say without sounding like an old creep, but before he could open his mouth, you spoke first.

"Maybe we can hang out together and keep each other company?" you offered. He turned his head and grinned.

"I was 'bout to suggest the same thing."

"Really?" you asked, looking as relieved as he felt. He nodded.

"Sounds like we both could use a friend."

Something in your expression shifted. It was too quick. He couldn't pinpoint it but whatever it was disappeared, leaving behind a genuine smile.

"I would really like that, Joel."

"What the hell? You couldn't call me back yesterday?" Tommy scolded when he marched into the small, messy office the following morning. Joel glanced up from behind his desk; papers, a calculator and a pencil scattered about in front of him. He took his reading glasses off with a sigh, abandoning his work. He hated doing the administrative part of his job. He always preferred to be on site or meeting with clients.

"I was busy."

"Busy?" Tommy repeated before collapsing in the worn out chair across from him.

"Yeah, busy. I was... with a friend," Joel mumbled, trying to sound nonchalant but Tommy's ears perked up.

"A friend? Who?"

Joel shrugged. "Someone I met at that group you made me go to."

Tommy's eyes lit up. "Hey, that's great. See? I knew it'd be good for you. What's his name?"

Joel pursed his lips before softly saying your name and Tommy raised an eyebrow.

"A woman? That's even better, Joel."

"It ain't like that-"

"'Course not," Tommy said, "I'm just sayin' it's a step in the right direction."

"She's too young," Joel said defensively, giving Tommy pause.

"Okay..."

"We're just friends. She ain't from 'round here, ain't got anyone in Texas."

Tommy frowned as he watched Joel shift uncomfortably in his chair, wondering what made his brother get so sensitive, so he chose to tread lightly.

"So you're keepin' each other company. That's nice."

"Yeah," Joel said, standing up with a grunt and rubbing his lower back before he snatched his coat from the wall. "Ready to go?"

"Sure," Tommy said, standing to follow Joel out of the office. While he locked the door behind him, Tommy couldn't help but ask, "How young is too young?"

"Thirty-one," Joel replied, fishing the keys out of his pocket.

Tommy shrugged, falling in step next to his brother as they walked towards the parking lot. "Sounds like an adult to me," he muttered, but Joel chose to ignore it. "When are you seein' her again?"

"End of the week," Joel replied before climbing into the truck.

"Friday?"

"Yeah, after work. We were gonna order some dinner and look through some books she's tryin' to get rid of."

The corner of Tommy's mouth twitched. "So, like a date?"

"It ain't a date," Joel said firmly, his jaw set as he pulled out of the parking lot and began to drive in the direction of the first worksite. "She's mourin' the loss of her husband, it's not a date."

"Husband?" Tommy repeated, then Joel shook his head, growing flustered.

"Fiancé. Not husband."

"When did he pass?"

Joel thought back to what you told him the night you first met. "A year ago."

Tommy hummed and looked out the window, tapping his fingers against the car door in rhythm with the beat from the radio. Joel side eyed him while they sat in silence for a few minutes before he rolled his eyes and sighed. "What?" Joel asked with an edge to his voice.

"A year's a long time, is all."

"She's in grief therapy, Tommy. She's in pain and tryin' to come to terms with it. Quit makin' it sound like somethin' it ain't."

"Just 'cause she's in grief therapy don't mean she ain't ready to move on-"

"Goddamnit, this is the last time I tell you anythin'," Joel grumbled as he made a left hand turn. Tommy hid a smile behind his hand and looked out the window.

"Alright, no need to get all defensive on me now."

Joel opened his mouth to argue but quickly snapped it shut. The more he pushed back just gave Tommy more ammunition. Besides, he knew the truth. You were looking for a friend, someone who could relate to what you were going through. There was absolutely no way you were interested in a man twenty years older than you. The thought was so absurd it almost made him laugh. You were young and beautiful and charming and you had your whole life ahead of you.

No, surely Tommy was wrong.

When Joel pulled up to your house, his eight year old truck the noisiest thing on the whole block, he let out a low whistle and threw it into park, deciding at the last second to keep his car on the street for fear of leaving an oil stain or something on your pristine concrete driveway. He sat in his truck for a moment, taking in the monumental Victorian house before him. He recognized it from his youth, but back then the siding was chipped and the windows were foggy, in desperate need of replacing. He always admired houses like yours and part of his heart broke whenever he saw one fall into such a state of disrepair that it was beyond saving, but not yours. No, at some point in the past ten years, the house was upgraded but managed to maintain the original charm.

There was fresh siding and new windows installed, the insides framed in what looked like delicate lace curtains, complimenting the style of the house. The roof looked like it had been replaced and the front door looked new, but the original architecture remained. He could easily tell whoever bought the house took great care with it, and the contractor in him breathed a sigh of relief that it didn't fall into the wrong hands, or god forbid, a flipper.

When he walked up your driveway towards the small stone path that led to your front door, he slowed to look at the garden that flourished in front of the wraparound porch. It was a beautiful mix of wildflowers and hedges, and while wildflowers had a tendency to look messy and unkept, you somehow managed to make it look neat and well put together. Fat, fuzzy bumblebees bounced drunkenly from flower to flower and as he climbed the wooden steps, a hummingbird buzzed past his ear, spooked by his presence.

He pressed the button to your doorbell, noting you chose not to install one of those camera doorbells and for some reason, that bothered him. Normally he wasn't a huge fan of technology, but you were all alone in this big house. You needed to be safe, to be careful. Your house was in a nice neighborhood, but that didn't necessarily mean anything.

The door swung open and you greeted him barefoot with a warm smile before stepping aside to let him in. You were wearing a loose tshirt that hung off one shoulder and he chastised himself when his eyes traveled down your tight fitting jeans to your ass as he followed you into your home.

He shrugged his reaction off to just typical male instinct and forced his focus onto the lovely foyer surrounding him as he slid off his boots. Polished cherry wainscoting lined the walls and his eyes widened when he noticed the small tiles in the shape of little octagons below his feet.

"Is this original?" he asked you in disbelief as he pointed to the ground. Your gaze followed his finger and you nodded.

"We tried to keep everything original, if we could," you explained.

"Wow," he breathed as he stepped forward into the hallway, his eyes unable to keep up with how fast his brain was operating. His gaze slid over the original hardwood floors of the hallway, fresh wallpaper, and wide, polished staircase with a plush carpet installed in the center of the steps. Much to his delight, you chose to furnish the house to match the style, as well. Antique fixtures hung from the ceiling and a real wood table was pushed against the wall. A small lamp sat on top with a stained glass Tiffany shade, and next to it was a pile of mail and a framed photograph he tried not to examine too closely out of respect.

"This way," you said over your shoulder, and he followed you blindly deeper into the house. You pushed open a swinging door that led into your kitchen, and for the first time since arriving, his nose was the first of his senses to respond instead of his eyes.

It smelled absolutely heavenly. He had no idea what you were cooking but his mouth instantly watered at the smell of garlic and salt and some kind of meat.

He swallowed and hoped his stomach wouldn't growl and embarrass him.

"Thought we were gonna order somethin'?" he asked as he watched you hurry over to the stove to stir something.

"Oh, I hope you don't mind, but I felt like cooking," you replied without looking. He glanced around the room, noticing you chose to update the counters and cabinets to look more modern, but kept the original flooring.

"Mind? Are you kiddin' me? Haven't had anythin' decent to eat since Sarah left for college."

Memories of fast food drive thrus and frozen dinners flashed before his eyes as he watched you turn off the burners on the stove. You opened a cupboard and stretched on your tiptoes to reach a bowl, the hem of your shirt riding up ever so slightly and revealing a small sliver of skin on your back and suddenly, his mouth was watering for an entirely different reason.

Stop it.

"Need some help?" he offered, and you fell back onto the flats of your feet, shooting him a nod and smile. He didn't mean to, but he reached up from behind you for the serving bowl, his front brushing gently against your back, and your shoulders tensed. Shit.

"Sorry, here ya go," he said, handing you the bowl and immediately giving you some space, not catching the glimmer of disappointment in your eyes.

"Thank you," you murmured shyly. He watched you spoon vegetables into the bowl for a moment, grabbing random jars of seasoning and sprinkling them on top before stirring it up, and he finally remembered his manners.

"Can I help?"

"No, no, I got it," you insisted, waving him toward a door on the other side of the kitchen. "Go sit down, I'll be right out."

He wandered over to the propped open door and entered your dining room. Pausing for a moment, he admired the chandelier above the table that looked old but the brass had been polished and the crystals cleaned. The drop ceiling was even remarkable: squares of textured patterns that repeated across the whole room, adding a whole other layer of elegance to the already impressive first floor. His eyes drifted to the dark wood table, where two spots were already set across from each other. He pulled out a chair and sat down, shifting his weight a bit and noting the chairs must have been recently reupholstered based on how firm the cushion was underneath him. You breezed in after him, hardly giving him enough time to take in the elaborate fireplace and mantle at the end of the room, and began to set down plates of food. His eyes bugged out of his head when he saw fresh, fried chicken and whipped mashed potatoes.

"You didn't have to go through all the trouble," he assured you, but you smirked at the way he stared at the chicken, the aroma from the breading overpowering his senses.

"It wasn't any trouble, I like to cook," you replied, disappearing into the kitchen to grab the vegetables and a basket of fresh rolls before finally joining him at the table.

Joel spread the cloth napkin over his lap, using every ounce of self control to stop himself from devouring everything in sight. He glanced up at you and you grinned.

"Go ahead, help yourself."

You watched with a small smile on your face as he loaded up his plate, then played with your own food until he took his first bite of chicken. He froze, his mouth full, and stared at you in awe before he dropped the chicken leg on his plate and leaned back, a deep, appreciative moan rumbling from his chest, making your thighs squeeze together under the table.

"Goddamn," he said once he swallowed. "That's the best fried chicken I've ever had in my entire life, darlin'."

You giggled and finally took a dainty bite of your own before nodding in agreement. "It's not bad."

Joel scoffed and took another bite. "Don't sell yourself short, now. I know what I'm talkin' 'bout. What'd you put in this?"

He listened, completely enraptured, as you explained how you soaked the chicken in buttermilk the day before and all of the seasonings you used in the breading.

"Oh! I almost forgot the lemonade," you said, standing back up and rushing into the kitchen, returning with two cold glasses and setting them down on the placemats. He nodded his thanks, mouth still full, and you giggled again.

You were already planning on packing up all the leftovers so he could take it home, but you still encouraged him to have as much as he wanted while it was warm and fresh.

"Did you make the rolls, too?" he asked after he took a bite.

You laughed and shook your head. "No, I'm not that good. I bought them this morning from a local bakery I like around the corner."

You had finished your meal long before he did, watching with your chin in your palm as he went back for seconds, reveling in the noises and compliments he made with practically each bite.

"Here, have some more," you told him, nudging the plate of chicken in his direction, but he leaned back in the chair and shook his head. "I can't, but everythin' was delicious. Thank you."

"You're welcome. I'm thrilled to cook for someone again," you replied with a sad smile before standing up and picking up your plate. He immediately stood and began to collect the rest, but you waved him back down.

"Sit, sit, I still have dessert," you told him, and based on the way he looked at you in that moment you would have put money down that he could be knocked over with a feather.

"Oh, darlin', you did too much," he replied, immediately flooding with guilt that he didn't even bring wine or flowers.

"Stop! I told you, I like doing it and I never get a chance to anymore, so please, sit down and I'll be right back."

Begrudgingly, he did as he was told and, while listening to you in the kitchen, peered out the back window at the meticulously kept grounds. Your house, like you, was absolutely beautiful. It felt like stumbling across an oasis in the middle of the desert.

You reappeared in the dining room with a bowl of diced, sugared strawberries and a plate of warm biscuits. He watched in stunned silence as you fixed him a plate, spooning the strawberries on top of a fresh shortcake, but told him to wait a moment before hurrying back into the kitchen and returning with a small bowl of homemade whipped cream.

Joel thought he died and went to heaven.

He could tell you didn't want to hear him complain that it was too much, so instead he lavished your baking with praise and thanks, both of which seemed to make your eyes shine bright and your lips remain curled into a smile the whole time.

"You're taking the leftovers home, too," you warned him once you finally allowed him to help bring things back into the kitchen. You were packing everything up nice and neat in matching Tupperware containers and stacking everything into a paper bag. As much as he wanted to decline, he really wanted your leftovers more, so he continued to thank you as he began to wash the dishes in your farmhouse sink. You had tried to fight him on it, but he finally wore you down and won. Stubborn little thing, he thought.

After dinner was cleaned up, you led him back down the hall and up the wide staircase, explaining that the books were all housed in a den at the top of the stairs, but when you opened the door to the room, den seemed like too small a word for it.

It was gorgeous, plain and simple. The cherry wainscoting continued in this room with a dark green wallpaper to accent the wood. All along the wall were antique sconces lighting up floor to ceiling bookcases stuffed full of literature. On the back wall was a large, heavy looking desk with a wingback velvet chair. The desk itself had books and papers scattered about, as if someone were in the middle of something and was rudely interrupted, but based on the layer of dust, he had to imagine nobody had sat there in some time.

And then it hit him: this was your fiancé's office.

A laptop sat open and turned off on the corner of the desk, along with a dusty printer behind the chair on the carpeted floor. He noticed what had to have been manuscripts of some kind based on the lack of coverings on the bound papers piling up next to the printer.

He was an author. This is where he worked.

That was when Joel realized you had been suspiciously quiet. He turned towards you, his eyes scanning your face, studying it. Your arms were wrapped around your middle as you stared blankly at the desk.

"We don't gotta do this today," he said softly, snapping you out of your reverie.

"No, it's okay," you replied, your voice so small it nearly broke his heart. You turned and walked toward the corner of the room, opposite the desk, where a small couch and coffee table sat. A few cardboard boxes were stacked nearby, two of which remained unopened, one recklessly torn into. You started with that one.

"Here," you said, pulling out a few books and handing them out. He stepped forward and took them, looking down at the covers and the beautiful artwork that adorned them. "These are the first trilogy, you should probably read them first before the next. They're different stories but they inevitably weave together so it'll make more sense if you-" you paused, your voice getting caught in your throat, and that's when he realized you had been fighting back tears.

"Hey, it's okay," he told you gently, putting the books down on the coffee table and carefully touching your shoulder, urging you to sit on the couch. After a moment's hesitation, you did, and he sat beside you. "This was too fast. I'll leave these here and maybe one day, when you're feelin' up to it, we can try again."

You looked up at him, eyes watering, and shook your head.

"No, take these now. I have more, I have tons, actually," you said, nodding towards the unopened boxes. "I just haven't come in here since he died and I didn't think it would be this hard." You wiped furiously at your cheeks, trying to hide your anguish.

Joel's heart thundered in his chest. He rubbed your back, trying to offer you a glimmer of comfort while he glanced around the room. "Maybe it was too soon," he offered again.

"No, it's been a year, Joel. I needed to do this." You took a deep breath and gave him a shaky smile. "Thank you. I know this is probably more than you expected-"

"Nah, hey, none of that, now," he cooed, mindlessly petting your hair. "If you needed someone to be here for this, I'm glad you picked me, okay?"

You sniffled and nodded, quietly thanking him again before taking another deep breath and exhaling with a nervous laugh as you looked around the room with him.

"Can I ask you something?"

"'Course," he replied.

"How long did it take for you to move on after your wife passed?"

He chewed the inside of his cheek as he thought about it, his fingers still playing with the ends of your soft hair as he slowly rubbed your back. "Well, hard to say. She was sick for a long time so I think I had time to come to terms with it before she died, y'know?" You nodded and listened to him, hanging on his every word and inadvertently leaning into his gentle touch. "Then I had Sarah to worry 'bout and, I don't know, time just... passed me by." He chuckled dryly for a moment before continuing. "My brother thinks I never got over it, Sarah thinks I never processed it, but they only think that 'cause I never dated anyone else."

Your eyes widened in surprise at his confession.

"Never?"

He shook his head and gave you a lopsided grin. "Been busy, I guess."

"But aren't you... lonely?"

He sucked in a sharp breath and cast his gaze to the floor. How did you manage to see right through him so quickly? Was it the common ground or something else?

"Wasn't too bad til Sarah left," he admitted, "but now... yeah. Yeah, it's lonely."

You scanned his face, watching the flicker of sadness in his eyes he tried to hide from you, and you inched a bit closer.

"I'm glad we found each other, Joel," you whispered. His eyes found yours again and he smiled.

"Me, too, sweetheart."

Then, without giving it another thought, you leaned forward and pressed a kiss against his lips. It was so tender and soft it felt like he was on the bus in fifth grade and Christine Murphy was giving him his fist kiss all over again while kids in nearby seats teased them with sing-song voices.

You pulled back and looked into his eyes, searching for any hesitation but all you must have seen was confusion because you leaned forward again, kissing him with a little more emotion, your small hand coming up to cup his greying, prickly jaw. You tasted like strawberries and lemonade and you smelled like vanilla and it was making every neuron in his brain fire all at the same time, to the point where his body had no idea what to do but remain frozen.

It was when your tongue first slipped past your lips and flicked nervously over the seam of his mouth that he finally came crashing down to earth. He sat back, breaking the kiss and holding you by the shoulders, staring deeply into your eyes. You were both panting slightly, probably from the excitement and adrenaline, as he tried to figure out what to say, what to do. You were in a fragile state, he decided. You made a mistake, the moment got away from you both and it didn't mean anything. It couldn't mean anything. You were too young and sweet and beautiful. You didn't really want anything to do with an old man like him. He just happened to be there when you were vulnerable and that was all.

The words never came. He couldn't form a coherent sentence. As the seconds dragged on, your face began to fall and embarrassment flooded your chest, the atmosphere in the room suddenly so thick that it was difficult to breathe. You cleared your throat and leaned back, his hands falling from your shoulders, and then you were the first to speak.

"Oh, no."

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#joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou #joel miller x reader #comfort Joel #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel the last of us #the last of us au #joel miller au #joel miller angst #Joel miller grief #the last of us angst #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #evergreen fic #Joel pov

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siddyyyyyyyy · 5 months ago

Text

You're Only Sixteen

wc: ~3.8k

summary: child soldier joins task force141, stuff is complicated

warnings: violence, brief discussion of child soldiers

a/n: got this idea from somewhere, it marinated in my drafts for about half a year lol; second part

Waiting at the back of the base, Ghost is leaning against the building, waiting on the new addition to the Task Force. As if they even need one. Price sent him to meet the recruit, telling him the new asset should be highly trained and good for the team. Maybe he's right, but five people on the team seem too much for Ghost. Whatever criticism he has, they don't matter now since Price got you into the team anyway, meaning there's no going back unless you manage to mess up badly. Soap passes him by, having a clue on why he's waiting outside right now.

»Waiting on the new recruit?«

He gives a grunt as a response. »Supposedly, they're highly trained and an 'asset' to us.« Soap nods and wishes him good luck, but also prays for the recruit. Meeting Ghost as the first of the team might be scary for the new recruit, but Price probably doesn't really care about that or he wants that to happen. God knows what his plan is; no one really knows.

Some time passes after the interaction before a truck arrives with you in it, a smaller figure popping out of the vehicle once it stopped near Ghost. He doesn't register what he sees in front of him for a moment, too focused on the truck driving away, before properly taking a look at you. While about two heads smaller than him, you have a rather slim build but a gloomy appearance around you. And you're... not older than bloody fifteen. There's no way. That's either a bad joke or you just look incredibly young.

»Name?« Once his gruff voice reaches you, you can't help but already tense up slightly more than before. He looks intimidating, yes, but you're sure he should be your future teammate. Eventually, you briefly introduce yourself, and he is also very sure that he's got the right person in front of him. The new asset. Ghost isn't one to be nosy or ask personal questions, but he needs to really bite back on asking about your age. You look way too young to be here. Let alone meet him in person.

»And you're Ghost, right?« You ask carefully, standing right in front of him with a respective distance. With how stoic your expression is... you're too much like his younger self. Maybe Ghost thinks too much of it, but he hopes you didn't need to go through the same thing he did.

He gives you back a small nod, uncrossing his arms and sizing you up for a second longer before turning around to the door. Walking into the base without saying another word and expecting you to follow him just like that. Pretty scary, to be honest.

You don't know much, but being added to a team of four, not sure what their intentions are with either you or in general. Maybe it's better when he doesn't talk much to you; the less you know, the better. But the base looks too clean and organised for any shady stuff to go on. But you could also be easily mistaken. Looking around, you spot only a few soldiers walking by, how simple it's decorated inside, and it isn't cold like in other buildings. After some long corridors, he stops at a double door, a small sign next to the doors with 'Briefing Room' written on it. Ah, good to know.

Ghost eyes you for a hot second before opening one of the doors and walking in, following behind him once again. Walking in, you see three other men in the room already, looking less intimidating than this ‘Ghost guy‘. »Nice to meet you and welcome to the team.« Another deep but more soft voice greets you, a man with a beard and fisherman's hat giving you a small nod. His gaze hardens for a moment too, like Ghost's did before when first meeting you. He also realises something is wrong. You nod back as a small form of greeting, mumbling out a formal greeting back.

»Kid, tell me. How old are you'?« He asks as he straightens his posture and awaits your answer, tilting his head a bit to the side. It‘s clear this man doesn‘t beat around the bush and goes straight to the point. The other two men in the room stay quiet, silently watching and studying you as well. One with a mowhawk exchanges a look with the tall, scary guy, Ghost, before glancing to the captain.

»There was no age on your file, so I'm just curious.« He adds to his question, sounding polite even though you can clearly hear the suspicion and probably even concern in his voice. Taking a deep breath, you try to be honest, but you're also afraid of the consequences of being honest. There are four men after all, all taller than you, seemingly much bigger and stronger. You know how to fight, but it still gives you chills standing in this room with unfamiliar men, all alone.

»I'm sixteen, sir.« Is your answer and voice steady and calm even though your body language betrays you. Your whole body stays still, with hands behind your back, seemingly waiting for any possible attack or threat to come right your way. It's silent while you look around the faces of them, seeing both surprise and disbelief in almost all of them. Only Ghost stays unwavering, but that might just be his balaclava covering his whole face. He knew something was wrong but wasn't sure enough to ask you that same question earlier, having figured that his captain knew enough anyway to avoid this situation. It stays silent for another beat until the captain sighs out, leaning his hands onto the table in front of him.

»And what's a sixteen-year-old doing in such a place?« He asks you, even though he could ask that question himself. How could he allow this? Is that why there was no age to your file? And are there more poor children like you? It's obvious they're all against something like a 'child soldier‘ in their team, even when you‘re a teen by now. »I was sent here to be an asset to your team.« You answer him, deciding it's better to talk and communicate rather than stay silent and listen to the thick silence.

»Captain, that's-« »Another word and you're out, Gaz.« The guy with the cap is interrupted by the captain's loud voice, giving out a clear warning. You notice how tense it feels in the room, sensing just how badly this could go wrong. Price takes a short breath before turning his attention back to you, standing at his full height once again.

»What do you know? About this, I mean. Do you even know our names? What we're doing?« You simply shake your head, staying stoic and calm even though you have the strong urge to run out of the room, knowing you‘re most likely not welcome in this room. But you won‘t; you've learnt to stay put and stand your ground, to not show any weakness no matter what.

»Kid...« He sighs out, trying to find a way to put this correctly, »Okay, let's start with you first. Tell us about yourself.« This is much kinder than you thought this would be. No one's glaring at you besides one particular shadow in the corner, but that just seems to be in his nature. You answer him, your voice being as steady and calm as possible, while telling them about yourself.

»I've been trained professionally for nearly nine years, been on the field since then. My specialisations are weapon handling, sabotage, sniper techniques, and demolitions.«

You state, carefully picking your words and telling them information about yourself that seems to be most necessary for now. Price stares at you for a few seconds, all eyes on you, while the mowhawk and Ghost are occasionally exchanging looks with each other, seemingly unsure about you. It seems like the captain is thinking before speaking up once more, having decided it.

»That's a lot for sixteen years. You must be real good if you were sent here, no? I think you have potential.« »Price, are you serious-« The mowhawk snaps, glaring at his captain before glancing back to you shortly. »That's a kid.« He hisses, completely thrown off with his captain's easy acceptance of you in their team. »I agree, Cap'. There's no way we'll have a child soldier on our side.« Baseball cap, Gaz, chimes in and tries to convince Price otherwise of you.

It feels both refreshing but also scary when someone talks like this about you, not being used to someone recognising the falseness of this, but you're also afraid if they decide to not accept you into the team. All you can do is watch.

»There's no safer place than here for a kid like this. And the mission is too soon to search for other assets.« He argues back, thinking it's better for you here than anywhere else. He's not wrong; you're in better hands now. The thing is that you have no knowledge of who these people are or what they're fighting for. Or anything else, really.

»Trust me, Soap.« The captain reassures him, Soap, the mowhawk guy, taking his eyes back to you. It's uneasy for you when you know how none of them like the idea of you in the team but the captain. And that's pretty much the only thing keeping you in this task force for now.

»Sorry. We'll keep you in the team, but if you aren't really that good, then we'll have to get rid of you.« The captain's words cut right through you, understanding that this might be a warning for you. That, if you let yourself down or don't show your everything, this might be your end. But maybe he also just said it to scare you. Which worked either way, not wanting to disappoint him. »I understand, sir.« You nod, glancing around the other faces once more quickly as if to remember their faces. ----

Not knowing their names is difficult, having no idea how to ask them for it as well. Wait for them to introduce themselves? Might take longer than some missions. Ask them yourself? No, that's too embarrassing, right? I mean, the captain mentioned their names before in the briefing room, but you just couldn't remember them that quickly. Especially with the situation you were in. But asking them yourself might be a good idea too; practicing social skills and trying to get to know what their intentions are would be a good start.

Looking around yourself, you see only how everyone's preparing for the mission. After the briefing ended, the captain announced that you're all heading out, not able to waste any more time. The mowhawk guy, also the closest to your height, is preparing his guns and picking out some more stuff for himself. Besides him, there's the guy with the baseball cap, and he's doing pretty much the same as his teammate. They look harmless like this, but it's just the fact that these are men, all too unfamiliar to be comfortable around them yet.

Ghost is the only more scary and silent one among them, knowing not to mess with him just by looking at him. The captain is by the helicopter, talking to the pilot and seemingly going over the plan or route once more.

So, there's two people not doing much but preparing themselves, one who's waiting for everyone to be ready and the captain who is busy talking to someone already. Now's your chance, but also not. It doesn't feel right to just walk up to them and start talking, not used to such casual interactions back at your camp. But staring at them isn't really polite either, so you take your eyes off the poor men and instead study the helicopter while strapping on your gear. ----

Sitting in the helicopter is much more interesting, there are more buttons, more extra buttons, interesting technology, and other stuff to look at. Good thing you're sitting next to the captain, too afraid to move the wrong way as if he would care about that in the first place.

He's more focused on the mission and if everything is going according to plan. The others don't seem as nervous or excited in the first place, just like you being rather stoic or focused. To your left sits the scot, he is not looking your way, instead checking out the helicopter's interior as well. Looking straight in front of you, there's Ghost and the most normal-looking one. You could basically ask them their names now, but that could come off as awkward too.

Maybe earlier was a better idea than now... »What's your name again?« Asks the rough voice from your right, looking straight at you. You glance at him and answer him shortly with your name. He nods in response, gesturing to the opposite of him, and goes on.

»That's Gaz. On his right, there's Ghost. And on your left, there's Soap. These are our call signs. I'm Captain Price, sorry for not introducing ourselves earlier.«

Hm, that's very nice of him, actually. You'd never thought he would be so soft spoken, even with his rather rough and raspy voice. But the way he introduces everyone gives you hope that this team might be just a chill and friendly one.

You nod back in return, considering shortly what to say to that. »Nice.« Soap smirks just lightly at your short response, the same goes to Gaz, who after that short introduction looks away once more. Ghost's eyes stay on you for longer, either sizing you up or just staring. Well, there goes your social skills, having thought too much about speaking up and how not to be awkwa-

»What'd you know about guns? You said you specialise in weapon handling.« This is on your left side this time, Soap, if you remember correctly. Your attention is on him now, answering his question after processing it quickly.

»Like, what kind of guns there are or what I have with me?« You ask back, unsure of what to reply exactly to him. He clarifies himself, shifting slightly in his seat to face you better. He tries again, asking you more about what kind of guns are your favourites and if you know some of the mechanics of them and how to tune your gun.

You learn a lot about tuning your gun or rifle, not having been taught that much in your camp. Even though you both haven't talked much, it still felt like you learnt a lot through him. Some would say talking about guns isn't appropriate with a teenager, but is there anything else to talk about with you anyway?

As soon as the helicopter landed and Soap had mostly rambled to you about guns, you're all ready to walk out and officially start the mission. It was rather simple, the plan is to clear a three-story building, get the intel and leave. It shouldn't take any longer than an hour, depends on how many difficulties there are going to be.

After the last few commands of the captain, it starts, pairing up in groups of two while Price goes to the front. Soap is by your side like before, while Ghost and Gaz are in front of you.The atmosphere shifts, and everyone is dead focused, having no place for mistakes. The task of clearing out the building wasn't difficult, it was difficult to actually focus on getting the intel. It was in the basement of the rather big house, only able to get in after having actually cleared out the entire area. After that's done, it goes straight to it, and there was no going back.

Your stomach drops once you reach the basement, it's silent but also so loud you can't hear what the others are saying. Several dead bodies, a dimly lit lamp from the ceiling, the intel in the corner, inside of a USB-stick next to the computer. Price steps in and first puts the stick in to check if it is really what's needed. After a few seconds of loading, it turns out that, yes, it's exactly the information you're here for.

You're finally able to breathe once Price turns around with the intel in hand before giving a firm nod, ready to go back out and return to base. The stench of the dead bodies was torture for you, let alone how dark it was in the room and how silent it was. Walking out was way easier, almost running out as the first one. But outside, there was another surprise. Right as the team went out of the basement, there was another team of soldiers, having just entered the hallway. One wrong move and you're done for, that's for sure.

Your adrenaline skyrockets and makes you act on impulse, shooting two soldiers down with clean head shots. They stop staring and act, one rushing right at you with a knife, probably thinking that’s an easier way instead of shooting at you. Thanks to your aggression that’s mostly caused by your adrenaline rush, you’re quick to block and counterattack him. The enemy soldier is clearly taller than you, but for some reason not hard to fight with at all. You quickly jab his side, which makes him gasp for air; using the distraction to choke him before stabbing him at his other side repeatedly. He cries out and winces before you let go, him holding onto his injured side and falling to his knees. You grab a fire extinguisher from the wall and hit his back with it until he collapses, aiming at his head until you’re sure he is done for. The team took out the rest and glanced to where the loud bangs were coming from, only seeing how you hit the soldier one last time before the fire extinguisher fell from your sweaty palms.

A look of surprise washes over their faces until Nikolai talks into the earpieces, informing you he’s waiting right outside with his helicopter, having about a minute before he needs to fly away.

Once the enemies are out, you're quick to leave the building all together and indeed, see the helicopter of Nikolai. Loaded in and safe, it feels like you've just run a whole marathon. Sitting down at one of the seats with a sigh, you relax your muscles as much as you can. Nikolai’s voice chimes in through the headset you're all wearing once again, all loud and clear and almost as soft spoken as Price's voice. Maybe a bit more warm than the captains, but laced with an accent. The conversation only consists of updating and some light jokes afterwards, it’s mostly quiet. The low grumble of the helicopter is the only thing filling the silence inside, not that it's uncomfortable. It's almost relaxing to finally be safe and at peace for now, even if it's just the way back.

That basement earlier took up some courage in you to go in and stay grounded, not to think too much and focus on the obvious. The surprise attack afterwards sure was surprising but nothing too challenging. The seat was strangely comfortable now after the mission, it's getting darker now anyways as the sun sets and your sore legs are able to have a time out for now. In fact, it's so comfortable that you need to force yourself to stay awake now.

Sandwiched between Price and Soap once more is enough to keep you awake, but not for long. Falling asleep seemed impossible in a room with these four guys at first but now you're napping against the shoulder of Price. Eyes closed and breathing steady, body very much relaxed. Price, on the other hand, is as stiff as a rock right now, not wanting to wake you or make this awkward. Gaz is pretty much amused at the sight in front of him, needing to resist a chuckle. The way you're just so relaxed and napping while Price is as tense as steel is also amusing to the other two teammates.

»We're almost there, just five more minutes.« Nikolai’s thick Russian accent is heard through the mic into the headsets, while Price is feeling relieved that you took your own off headset earlier. It's silent, so Nikolai speaks again, confused on why it's silent.

»Everybody alright?« He asks slowly, awaiting for someone to answer positively. »Rookie fell asleep. Trying t' stay quiet.« Ghost answers quietly back, and Nikolai has to fight back the urge to turn around in his seat and take a look himself. A low chuckle escapes him eventually as he shakes his head lightly and continues flying everyone back to base. ----

The debrief was... calm. Awfully calm. No one's arguing, and no one is yelling for no reason, it's just so casual but professional. Maybe your camp was abusive or at least unprofessional, but this almost feels too calm. It feels as if something will go wrong any second, but it doesn't.

Captain is telling everyone what he found on the USB stick, and the new plan and information are being displayed on the wall by a projector. He's going straight to the point and just tells the obvious, facing the team that is seated at a long table. The next big mission should be in about two weeks until everything is planned, it being a more complicated raid, with the main point of taking held hostages from a big building. Eventually, once he's done, his eyes lock on you and seem to become more serious.

»Before this mission, we'll need to train you as much as possible, so you won't make mistakes. Or worse.« You nod in return, already seeing yourself training day and night and trying to improve impossibly fast.

»We'll train all together and work on our teamwork. As well as spare a few rounds together, hm? Sound good?« You nod once more, feeling like this might actually be more pleasant than hard work like your usual training was. »Good.« You reply back, and once everything is settled, everyone can retreat back into their bunks and rest for tonight. ----

This night was restless for you like every other. Sleeping at a completely different and strange place is always off-setting at first. The bed is normal-sized, and there's nothing you would complain about in your own bunk, you just need to get used to it. Or maybe it was the one-hour nap you took before in the helicopter that prevents you from sleeping now. You're just glad no one addressed it later on after you woke up. Tossing and turning, you eventually fall asleep after several hours from exhaustion.

a/n: don't worry, there will be more chapters, just have to refresh my brain about my plot since I haven't touched it in a while... hope you still enjoyed it!

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kujiba · 8 months ago

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★MAY THE LAND CONCEAL YOU, DEAR GRACE

PART ONE/ PART TWO / PART FOUR / PART FIVE

୨୧ — ꒰ gn!reader | they/them prounouns | Sagau | cultish behavior

୨୧ — ꒰ a/n: yay! We're finally getting into the very first arc. I might start a new series but eh, who knows. Anyway enjoy reading

୨୧ — ꒰[Tags] @resident-cryptid

YOUR EYES COULDN'T BELIEVE IT - delicate and soft footsteps walked in the cobble flooring of the prestige city; (e/c) eyes glimmer around the stalls and towering buildings. Mondstadt definitely lives up to its titled name as the land of freedom, for every step you take, every second that passes by is surely not a quiet one infact.

One of your destined dreams turning into real life felt like bliss - you couldn't help but feel ecstatic on what the future lies ahead for you in the unordinary situation you find yourself in.

Yet.. Even for such a joyful moment, why do you feel entrapped and suffocated? You could feel eyes digging deep onto your back as it only doubled to your discomfort. You weren't supposed to feel like this, you're living your dream yet what is with this abnormal reaction? Paranoid with yourself, you quickly fled to a nearby alleyway to arrange your thoughts.

In there, you took control of your breathing, the surroundings around you begun to turn disoriented. You shook your head in disagreement "No...I must just be having a headache from the crowds" you mumbled to yourself, rubbing the sides of your head - you then continued your way in the city of Mondstadt after having calmed your thoughts and body down.

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Later on, you found yourself sitting down on one of the chairs in a food hub called "Good Hunter". You were well aware of what this place is - infact, you felt like you've done this thousands of times even if you just played through a screen.

You didn't quite expect that feeling of yours earlier, expectations didn't reach what you had thought would lead to. You were supposed to be happily strolling around mondstadt - so why are you just sitting here rearranging your thoughts again? "Agh...I'll just sit here for a bit, yeah that's alright.." Mumbling those words to yourself, you took a deep breath to calm your body down.

Eventually after about 10 minutes of sitting, you heard a small grumble from your stomach. 'Ah right, Im starving..' you suppress to yourself; sure you ate some (alot) sunsettia's earlier but that didn't seem to satisfy your stomach. Fortunately for you, the place you were resting at was a food hub!. Standing up from your seat, you made your way up to the counter to order some cuisine for that grumbling tummy of yours.

"Welcome To Good Hunter. Can I take your order?" A brunette lady with a neatly tied up ponytail on the other side of the counter question's. Her eye's lingered on the out line's of your body, taking in every detail and curve. "Uh....can I have uh.." Your voice trailed off, thinking of something to order from the menu. Until, you remembered one thing you'd always cook for your character's in game. "May I have one Sweet Madame please?" You asked, giving her a small smile.

The woman was dazed for a moment after you gave her a smile, seemingly gawking into your (e/c) pupils. It took a while till you cleared your throat "Ahem.. Is everything alright?" You questioned her, still keeping your smile but had a hint of concern.

"Oh! Uhm yes, one Sweet Madame. Please sit while I prepare your food" She hastily replied, quickly turning around she returned back to the counter furthermore fumbling around with some seasonings and kitchen knives.

You sat back down on your chair briefly leaning back on it whilst patiently awaiting for your food to arrive, your mouth just watered at the thought of eating it. And boy are you excited! Tasting many wonderful foods from your favorite games is just wonderful! A dream you wish to never leave this place...Until a realization hitted you like a truck.

You have no money here. Absolutely 0

A previous dream turned into a Nightmare; patting your pockets repeatedly you began to panic internally, you can't just take the food and dip! Well you actually can, but you definitely can't handle the consequences of it! No way you're going to already have a horrible situation just after you stepped inside the city.

So how the hell are you gonna pay without any mora!? The gods or whoever brought you here CLEARLY didn't gift you with any starter materials. You cursed In your head, thinking of ways to legally get out of the situation you were in. "Shit what do I do?! I can't just go 'oh I don't have any money because I'm from a different world and got transferred here. Heck no!" Your eyes scanned the surrounding area, looking for an idea or way to not make the situation any more complicated.

╔══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╗

A Honey-roasted fowl sat on your wooden table. The honey and sweet flowers come together to compliment the tender fowl meat. It's aroma as delicate and delicious as it looks. As of in the game it can restore 22% of Max HP and an additional 1,200 HP to the selected character.

A brunette maid stood by your side, a bill on her hands. Her expression looked rather concerned about you "Uhm.. Are you alright?" She asked examining your face. All that showed on you was defeat, like you've just got jumped by the opps.

"Well.. Aha.. So it might seem crazy what i'm gonna say.." You nervously chuckled, not making eye contact with the brunette and only facing the ground. Your eyes failed to notice another brunette woman walking to your table, her appearance seems similar to somebody you've previously met just moments ago..

"Heya! Mind if I sit down with you?" She politely asked, soon noticing the maid next to you she smiled slowly "I got it cover boss, I'll have one Sweet Madame too please." the brunette then took some mora from her pocket and gave it to the server, pleased by the girls payment she returned back to her stall to make another sweet madame.

Silence crept around both of you; you of course knew who she was but was to afraid to strike up a conversation. "Oh damn... What should I do?.." you pondered, avoiding any necessary eye contact with the brunnete. For her, she seemed to be doing the exact opposite of you. Her hazel pupils gazed upon parts of your physique; She seemed to be admiring your frame which made it furthermore awkward.

Clearing your throat, the brunette immediately got back into reality and looked back at you with her eyes. You gave her a small smile "Uhm well, Thank you for paying for me miss.." "AMBER." She replied back, a bit delighted to tell you her name "It's really nothing. You seem to be passing by?" she question's, you answer by giving her a nod.

"Why yes, Mondstat is one of my dream places to visit" You weren't technically lying to her, outside the screen. You did want to try and live in mondstat, just imagining it felt like paradise for you.

Amber seemed ecstatic when you mentioned how mondstadt is your dream places to visit "Why don't I give you a tour later then (Name)?" She offered to you, you were mentally so happy she offered it to you. So without hesitating you answered in a heart beat "Of course!"

Wait. Did you ever give her your name? You probably did. You just forgot

╔══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╗

The world happiness couldn't even describe what you were feeling right now, by your side was THE Outrider Amber of genshin impact showing you around the city. The buildings were alot taller than you had thought, but the best part was being able to see the statue of Barbatos! You felt like you were going to pass out on how unreal it felt!

But alas the tour was coming to an end. Fortunately, Amber had suggested for you to go visit the KNIGHTS OF FAVONIUS; An order responsible for protecting Mondstadt and its belief of freedom. You were of course, very cheerful by her offer! So here were the two of you. Standing in the doors of the KNIGHTS OF FAVONIUS.

"Woah.. Is it really okay for a normal person like me inside here?" you questioned her, eyes gazing at the gigantic bronze door infront of you. Amber opened her mouth to giggle "Why of course! Everyone is welcome here. Come, I'll show you inside! " Quickly opening the two doors, the inside of the building was even finer than what you've had imagined.

Polished tiles surrounded the flooring, complimenting the small plants placed upon the sides of the doors for a more appealing and modern look. Trained knights standing firm and straight with a neutral expression on their face. Still, you could vaguely see them attempting to try and catch a glimpse of you, occasionally turning their eyes to take a better view of your appearance. You did not mind one bit, since you've understood that they just might be analyzing you if you are a possible threat.

"Come! I'll show you inside one of the rooms!" Amber ushered, taking your wrist gently with one of her hands and leading you to a door. Thrusting the doors open, the surrounding room were packed with layers and layers of books, seemingly to be endless opportunities of knowledge and experience.

As you began to look over the room, your (e/c) eyes laid upon a fairly tall woman with lime green eyes and long light brown tied in a side ponytail by a hair tie with a blue rose. Her outfit is largely many shades of purple. Just by the sight of her you could tell who she was already; LISA is a librarian who works in this library, and one of the few characters you achieve for free for unlocking more experience and leveling up in the game.

Her forest green eyes gazed around the room and stopped when she had spotted you, her expression seemed to be of slight suprise but nonetheless, she composed herself and began walking up to the two with her signature smile

"Why hello there cuties, what brings you here?" She question's, stopping in her tracks following with crossing her arms around her lower chest

Amber smiled gleefully, still taking a hold of your wrist with her hand and replying to Lisa "They're a passing traveler who wanted to adventure into the city! I offered to give them a tour and they gladly accepted!" Her answer holds alot of excitement and happiness.. So much so that she's gripping onto your wrist very tightly.

You soon grew uncomfortable by her grip on your wrist, but didn't want to ruin the two women's mood and vibe, so you kept it to yourself for now. It must be because she's exceedingly happy right?

Lisa lightly laughed at the brunettes excitement "Now, now.." She took hold of Amber's hand that was holding onto your wrist and pulled it apart, her eyes not breaking eye contact with Amber "Why don't you calm yourself down, Amber?" She says giving a closed eyed smile. Amber immediately realized her actions and turned to you "...Sorry, haha. I guess i let my emotions get the better of me, I promise you I won't let it happen again" Her previous dissapointed expression shifted to one that looked more relaxed.

"Oh! Right, you must not know her right?" Amber pointed her thumb to Lisa who was standing infront of the two, her smile still plastered on her face, she cleared out her throat "Don't worry, I'll introduce myself to this cutie..my name is Lisa Minci, the librarian of the knights of favonius, I hope we get along very well." her smile was off putting at first but you brushed it off.

"Nice to meet you Ms. Lisa! My name is (Name), I'll be very happy with my time in mondstat" You extended your hand to give Lisa a handshake, to your suprise Lisa without hesitating also took your hand for a handshake. Her eyes focused on the base of your hand whilst Amber stared at you two.

You laughed awkwardly. you and Lisa shaked hands a few times before parting ways for now, you felt an ominous aura behind you once you turned your back to leave the library. You for sure wasn't going back in there for a bit.

As the two of you walked in the halls of the Knights of favonius guild, Amber stopped infront of a door. "How about we go ahead and meet the grandmaster, Jean?" She said still having a gleeful energy. You nodded, seeing no harm in meeting her. The plot won't magically change right? In here your just an NPC and the main side characters always interact with NPC's and go on with their day. Nothing can go wrong, right?.

Amber opened the doors, a small creeking sound as it slowly began to open up. Inside the room where stacked with shelves of books, in there, the back center of the room had a women in blonde dressed formal sitting down on a chair with a fairly sized table. The table had stacks and stacks of papers seemingly to be endless.

Only when amber cleared her throat did the blonde notice the two people standing near the door, she quickly composed herself and looked directly at amber, you've noticed how the blonde has not even noticed you in the room yet (you're standing right besides amber wtf).

"Good morning to you, Amber. What brings you here?" The blonde woman asked, sitting upright on her chair while awaiting the brunettes answer "Good to see you, Acting Grandmaster JEAN!" Amber replied casually, "Meet (Name)!, they' were just passing by. We sure do get loads of visitors after the Traveler(AETHER) had left to go to Liyue huh?" The brunette smiled brightly, her hand infront of you faced flat.

Jean, if not for amber she would have never even noticed your presence in the room. You on the other hand had something else in mind, 'I wonder which traveler is the one they're talking about... I'm fine with either one of the twins'

You collectively thought to yourself, a smile on your face as you could barely wait! Just meeting the MC makes your stomach get butterflies. Jean seemed to be staring at you for quite a bit, but you had not noticed once since you were daydreaming in your head.

Jean cleared her throat which made you immediately snap back to reality, raising your head slightly you made eye contact with her ocean blue pupils, she didn't look like she was going to take her eyes off you anytime soon...

".. (Name), was it?" Jean asked, leaning on her desk. Without hesitating you nodded your head "Yes, that's me.. Is there anything you want to ask?" You asked her in an awkward tone, the vibe in the room had shifted significantly. You didn't like it one bit.

She locked her eyes onto yours and smiled "No... But let me ask you one thing" The blonde stood up from her seat and slowly walked in front of her table "Where did you come from exactly?" She asked, crossing her arms on her chest. Amber also was curious to know, her hazel eyes looking at you with curiosity.. But to you, it felt like two predators were piercing their eyes onto your every limb, you felt awkward, confused, and most off all. ANXIOUS

Just one word, one word that's even remotely suspicious and it's game over for you. But why did you feel panicked and anxious? The Traveler was also a other worlder, the characters stared at him/her with adoration and kindness. Why is it the opposite for you?

A feeling wrecked your inner self, INSTINCT. Instinct told you the moment you accidentally reveal your situation is the moment your doom will begin to tower over your shadow, devouring you whole for the mistake you had made. And only then, will you escape from the pain you've brought upon yourself.

"I.. I came from.." You were lost for words, you could just tell them you lived in liyue, sumeru, Fontaine or any other region in Teyvat. So why do they stare at you with such hostile and loathing looks? You gulped down your saliva and clutched your other wrist with your hand "I traveled here from liyue.. I like to visit other regions and find more of their culture and traditions"

Your voice sounded awkward, but it was the only words you could spew out in the moment. You could still feel their gaze observing your every move and twitch, they never took their eyes off you for a long while.

As silence filled the room, Jean and Amber looked at each other for a couples of seconds and nodded, Jeans gaze on you began to soften up "I see, well then. I welcome you to mondstadt, we will be more than happy to have you here" Jean casually said having her hand on her hip as amber gleefully clapped her hands.

"Welcome To mondstadt! I'll be sure to show you only the best." Amber talked to you with such excitement and happiness. You couldn't process what was happening, since the mood had shifted to normal again. You were only relieved to have your body and mind at peace again....

! ! !

INSTINCT is an inborn impulse or motivation to action typically performed in response to specific external stimulus, ADRENALINE is a hormone secreted by the adrenal glands, especially in conditions of stress, increasing rates of blood circulation, breathing, and carbohydrate metabolism and preparing muscles for exertion.

Two things a human body does when faced with a threat around their surroundings, the human body will begin to feel such things. You felt your body beginning to rush as your heart beat began to slowly get faster, something was definitely behind you.

You turned your head quickly, but only saw a pair of black gloves reaching out to grab your face, and before you know it, you were out on the floor. Your vision began to darken at a fast pace, as all you could only do is lay motionless on the cherry colored carpet.

Two silhouettes towered over you whilst you were on the ground, holding your arms and legs, they began to drag your body on the hard ground.

☆☆☆

(e/c) eyes slowly began fluttering open, your pupils beginning to open once again. "Ugh... Where am I.." you groaned. Your head was throbbing like crazy, giving you migraines that just added more into the pain. Your hand trailed up to the sides of your head and began to slowly massage it to ease up the aching.

After some seconds, you had fully composed your body. The room you were in was more darker and you could barely even tell what was in your surrounding areas, only feeling the cold flooring from below you.

You attempt to try and recall what had happened but it only furthered increase the aching. You could only sigh to yourself and lean your body back on the wall, in the room you were stuck in 'So this is how I'll be spending my time. Stuck in a dark and cold room, great. ' you thought to yourself, hugging your knees closer to your chest and body to be able to create warmth.

"Just my luck.. When things were just going great another misfortune happened" talking to yourself was the only thing keeping you entertained for now, as you begin to spiral deeper into your thoughts you started to wonder, Why did I get transported here?

In your life at earth you didn't make any shocking changes to the world like making cures or any of that. You were just some person who liked to play games...

Wait

Surely enough the gods or whoever transmitted you here would be benevolent enough to gift you some kind of system or powers right? If this was not just a coincidence you might as well treat your situation like a manwha.

Clearing your throat you quietly mumbled 'System'.....And to no suprise nothing worked. "Uhh... Abrakadabra? Arise? Info?" you tried words that could possibly trigger that non existing system that you are hanging on for dear life. Maybe because of the silence around you that makes you start to go delusional and crazy.

Countless tries yet none were working (Obviously) "Man.. I knew I should've eaten more food, I'm starting to go crazy at this point.. Seriously miss the noise around. It just seems like something had turned off the sound in settings"

You groggily lowered your head down accompanying with silent murmurs coming from your mouth. Unbeknownst to you, a glowing blue screen began appearing infront of you, as you began to lift your head your (e/c) eyes began to shrink from shock as a text was plastered right in front of you.

CHOOSE AN ELEMENT! : PYRO, CRYO, DENDRO, ELECTRO, HYDRO, GEO, ANEMO

"WAIT WHAT!?"

A/n: very sorry for the delay and how late the chapter is. Advance apologies if the chapter did not meet your expectations. School is a pain and taking most of my time.

Nonetheless Hope you enjoyed, please let me know if you want to get tagged in the next chapters.

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blue-sadie · 1 year ago

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Something To Look At

Even Buckley x Reader x Eddie Diaz

Summary: a relaxing shower could lead to many things especially with thoughts like thoses

Warning: double penetration, semi-public sex

Yn/3rd person pov

I giggled at buck as went on about the charity calendar my eyes drifted over to the locker room when I saw some movement in the corner of my eye "oh my fuck" I whispered catching the attention from the others.

My eyes widened wondering over his exposed chest "whose that" Maddie asked "oh that's eddie diaz just graduated top of his class this week" Bobby smiled I bite my lip.

"Hey" I snapped out of my thoughts when buck nudged me and looked at me with a knowingly look "what" I muttered and walked behind with buck as we went to introduce ourselves.

"I'm yn" I smiled shaking his hand and our hands and eyes lingering a bit to long for bucks liking he pulled me away by my waist keeping his hands planted on waist "and I'm buck" he growled.

Eddie's mouth twitched as his hands stared at buck's that were on my waist "pleasure" he smiled you could cut the tension between them with a knife.

"Come on" buck ushered me out and away from eddie into the gym with him "try not to bulk up to much I don't need every girl to be looking at you" I teased taking off my sweat shirt leaving me in my sports bra.

"I could say the same" he grumbled and started working out I rolled my eyes and giggled to myself and bandaged up my hands so I could use the punching bag.

I let out a few deep breaths before I started swinging the force of the punches moving the bag to much "buck can yo-" I was interrupted when eddie slid behind the bag and held it "I got it".

I started punching and would kick every few minutes "you got a good form" he murmured as his eyes glided over my body biting his lip "I think you should stop" I whispered glancing over to buck who was already staring at us clenching his fists.

"What are you guys together or something" he asked as he stared at buck "something like that" I murmured but I gasped out hearing the clash of something hit the floor.

The sound of the alarm interrupted us "fuck" I sighed out and took off my bandages "yn you stay here we're taking eddie with us" Bobby shouted as he ran to the truck "what" I muttered "sorry" eddie said running off with buck.

I groaned and rolled my eyes taking a seat on the bench my eyes watching them run to the truck biting my lip 'fuck' I don't know how ill concentrate with both of them on my team.

I looked down towards the ground taking a couple breaths before getting up and head towards the showers to clean up but my steps fultered as I felt myself dumpen the images of them both fucking keeps popping up.

"Get a hold of yourself for fuck sake" I whispered and grabbed a few things from my locker and went into a cubicle and turned on the water when the temperature reached my liking I stepped under and let out a sigh of relief the hot water helping ease my sore muscles.

I rinsed off my body and just stood under the water eyes closed letting out deep breathes through my nose I let out a small hum as I imagined them being here with me their hands gliding over my skin their lips attached to my neck.

My hands threading through their hair as they pleasured me and that's when I felt it I gasped and turned around and freaked as I saw eddie and buck naked "looks like someone was enjoying themselves" buck teased biting his lip as his eyes looked over my body.

"Y-your back" I grinned nervously using my hands to somewhat cover myself eddie clicked his tongue as buck just shook his head they stepped towards me pushing me back intill I was up against the wall.

"Don't be shy now" eddie murmured as they leaned in towards me I looked to the ground and shakily removed my hands "good princesa" eddie murmured and moved his hand to my neck urging me to look up at him while buck's hands started playing with my breasts.

"Be quite now don't want Bobby to hear now do we" buck said as I let out small whines of pleasure bucks hands fell to my hips and he pulled me against him under the water pressing his body pressed to mine I gasped as eddie came up behind me and did the same.

"I-i thought you hated eachother" I murmured they looked at eachother for a brief second before eddie whispered into my ear "we have a thing in common" he growled lightly nibbling on my earlobe.

My head started to feel dizzy this can't be happening "come on dude let's stop teasing her and fuck the shit out of her" buck grumbled and with one single movement he was inside me "b-buck" I whined out my hands immediately went to hold his shoulders.

"Hold on princesa" eddie whispered and slowly started pushing in with buck my knees buckled and buck had to cover my mouth so I didn't alert the others my eyes rolled to the back of my head at the stretch.

"Shit she's tight" buck groaned as they started moving in and out "enjoy this mia amor" eddie muttered they thrusts slowly started increasing in speed as I started loosening up.

"Fuck dude I think the whole station can hear us" buck released his hand from my mouth as he laughed out, my hands dug into bucks shoulders as I tried containing my moans but the pleasure was just to much.

"Aw the poor baby is trying" buck cooed cruelly at me his thrusts only getting harder "try contain yourself when we r-ruin you" he groaned, eddie grabbed the back of my thighs and picked me up causing them to hit new angles.

"Oh fuck" I cried out throwing my head back against his shoulder I felt myself getting close I tried to warn them but they understood and never let their thrusts fulter for a second.

"Cumming" I moaned out my eyes rolling back and my body trembled, eddie slowly put me down both of them not pulling out I leaned onto them catching my breath and closed my eyes.

But when I opened them they were gone there was no trace of them I looked around and out the cubicle and no one was their I quickly turned off the water and dried myself off getting my clothes on as fast as I can.

I exited the showers and saw that the team was back, my eyes scanned over the room in till they landed on eddie and buck who were laughing and actually being civil eddie locked eyes with me and winked.

"These two are gonna be the death of me"

#911 #911 x reader #911 x reader smut #911 smut #911 evan buckley #911 eddie diaz #evan buckley #evan buckley smut #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley x reader smut #eddie diaz #eddie diaz smut #eddie diaz x reader #eddie diaz x reader smut #eddie diaz x reader x evan buckley #eddie diaz x reader x evan buckley smut #evan buckley x reader x eddie diaz #evan buckley x reader x eddie diaz smut

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janeyseymour · 1 month ago

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I Can Take Care Of Myself

Summary: Melissa falls and clearly injures herself. She insists she's fine.

WC: ~3.7k

Melissa falls at work today, because of course she does. It isn’t the best morning to begin with- and that only puts the cherry on top to prove to the two of you that today is going to be an absolute living hell.

It all starts when you wake up with half a voice and feeling like a truck hit you. Still though, you persist and insist that you’re well enough to go to school- calling out isn’t an option at this point. The substitute situation is, in the fine words of Mr. Johnson, absolute trash. You’re not about to subject your grade level partners to another ten kids in their class for the day when you can still teach- just maybe not to the degree that your students have become accustomed to.

“Hun, I’m fine,” you croak out as you force yourself to peel your eyes open.

Melissa frowns. “It’s clear you aren’t. You look like you crawled out of the seventh layer of hell.”

“Wow,” you scoff. “I love you too.”

Green eyes are rolled. “You know I’m saying that with all of the love in my heart, mi amore… I just don’t want you to strain yourself more than you have to. I can handle your sub plans and take on some of your kids.”

“I’m fine,” you mumble as your eyes slip closed again. “Just give me five more minutes, and then I’ll get up.”

“Y/N,” your girlfriend says sternly.

“I’m fine,” you grumble. “Just gonna need some extra coffee today.”

Somehow, miraculously, you get out of the house on time- having not put on makeup today. You’re able to stop for coffee before you head to work, and then you’re walking in with the usual crew. They can all clearly see that you aren’t feeling well, but at your glare, they silence themselves. Chatter continues on like it normally does with your friends. And then Melissa trips and she hits the ground- hard.

You gasp and reach out a hand to help her up, worried that she’s more injured than she’s playing off. “Hun?”

“I’m fine!” the redhead jumps right up. “Coffee didn’t even spill.”

You look to your friends with a stunned look- how could she be okay? But then she’s limping her way up the steps to the school, and you sigh. She isn’t fine- nowhere near fine.

“Has she always limped like that?” Janine asks the group.

“No. No she has not,” you grumble under your breath as you head in behind your girlfriend.

She’s still limping down the hall with all of her things when you catch up to her.

“Hun,” you just barely manage to get out before you break into a bit of a coughing fit. Still, you grab her bags and loop an arm around her waist to help steady her.

The redhead shrugs you off and continues to hobble her way down the halls towards her classroom. “I’m fine. It’s you who isn’t.”

“Babe,” you shake your head. “You took a tumble, and it’s clear you’re hurting.”

“Ain’t the first time,” Melissa replies. “Won’t be the last.”

“At least let me look at your ankle when we get inside?” you ask as you stop in front of her door.

Green eyes glance to you for a second, and she can tell that you’re truly concerned about her. “Y/N.”

“Please,” you sigh. “I’m worried with the way you’re limping.”

The breath that she lets out tells you that she’s annoyed, but she relents. “If I say yes, will you get off my back?”

You raise brow at the attitude, but you cut your losses and nod. As soon as she’s in her classroom and settled to a certain degree, she’ll falling into her chair with a groan. You feel bad, but you have to unlace her boot and pull it off of her foot. It hurts your heart to hear the way that she hisses in pain at the action.

“I’m sorry,” you croak out. You peel her sock off, and you can immediately see that her ankle is swollen at least double the size what it’s supposed to be. “Hun, you need to go to the doctor.”

“There ain’t no damned way that’s happening.”

You look to your girlfriend with a deep sigh. “Lissa.”

“I’m not going,” the redhead stands her ground.

“It’s already swollen,” you tell her. You prod around the area and when she nearly shouts in pain, you just gesture to it pointedly.

“It’ll heal up in no time.”

“At least let me get you ice,” you request softly.

“I can get it,” Melissa tells you as she goes to pull her sock back on. She halts her motion though when she feels the pain flare up again.

“Melissa, now is not the time to be stubborn,” you grumble out as you turn on your heel to get ice from the staff room. By the time that you fill a couple of bags with ice, brew another two cups of coffee, and return down to the redhead’s classroom, she’s grunting and groaning trying to get her shoe on.

“Melissa Schemmenti, stop being so damn stubborn, and just accept my help,” you rasp out as you pull her shoe off again, ignoring the way she winces. “Shouldn’t have tried to put it back on when I told you I would get it for you myself.”

“An’ I told you I’d be fine. I should be the one takin’ care of you,” Melissa spits out. “This is fuckin’ ridiculous.” And then she gasps at the cool sensation on her foot.

“Twenty minutes,” you tell her sternly. “I don’t want to see you up and moving today. You can teach from your chair.”

“But-”

“Melissa,” you grit through your teeth. “I know you don’t want help or to admit that it hurts, but I’m seriously concerned. So, if you aren’t going to do this for yourself, will you at least do it for me?”

The pleading look in your eyes, along with the strained voice, finally get her to quit fighting you. “Fine. But when we get home, I’m taking care of you.”

You roll your eyes but lean in to kiss her temple. You make your way out, having to prepare a few things for your own classroom. As you’re leaving, you mumble under your breath, “That’s if we aren’t at the hospital for your damned ankle.”

Come lunch time, you line your kids up and march them down the hall to your girlfriend’s room. She’s still sitting in her chair, one shoe off, but she looks pissed beyond hell.

“I’ll take your kids down, grab our lunches, and then I’ll meet you back here?”

“I can come down to the staff-” she pauses briefly at your glare. “I’m coming down. But if you wouldn’t mind taking my class down to the cafeteria?”

“Fine.” You’ll take what you can get.

By the time that you’ve dropped all of the kids off in the lunch room and ensured that they have a plan for lunch, Melissa has hopped about halfway down the hallway.

“You’re ridiculous,” you sigh as you catch up with your girlfriend easily.

Green eyes are rolled, and she huffs and groans as she continues down towards the staffroom. You simply loop your arm around her waist again.

“Can you put any pressure on it?” you ask.

“Enough.” She steps on it, but you see the massive amount of pain she is in when she does.

You quirk your lips to one side, but you don’t say anything. Instead, you help guide her to a chair before pulling your lunches out of the fridge and setting it down in front of her. You pluck her mug from her hand and refill it with another helping of coffee, spoon the sugar out for her, and get the creamer for her.

“Thanks,” she kisses your cheek gently.

You manage to get her to ice her injury again without much of a fight.

The rest of the day passes by just fine, and come the end of the day, you’re both standing outside dismissing your kids. You can see the way that she’s favoring her one side though and how she’s smiling through the pain. Honestly, you’re surprised she even managed to get her shoe back on, much less make her way outside.

But then the bell rings to signify that teachers can leave, and you watch her grunt and groan her way to the car.

“Let me drive,” you try to convince her.

She waves you off. “I can drive.”

The entire drive home, you can see in her face just how much she’s trying to suppress her pain. You don’t say anything though- hopefully she learned her lesson after today’s drive back home.

She leans over the middle console once she’s put the car in park and kisses you softly.

“Don’t kiss me,” you rasp out. “I don’t want you to get sick.”

“I have the immune system of a bull,” your girlfriend tells you, and then she plants another one you. “I just… thank you for trying to take care of me today. But I promise you, I’m fine. I should be the one taking care of you right now.”

She presses her forehead against yours, only to frown as she pulls away. “You’re burning up.”

“I’ll be okay,” you mutter. “Just goin’ to be an early night tonight.”

It is an early night for you. Practically right after dinner, you practically drag your exhausted body up the steps and crawl into bed.

You expect the redhead to make her way up not shortly after you, but she doesn’t. You resort to texting her.

Are you coming to bed?

I will, is the response you get. Just catching up on the Bachelor, and then I’ll be up. Get some sleep though, hun.

Okay, you type back. Goodnight. I love you.

I love you too.

Melissa doesn’t make her way up the steps that night. She can hardly manage to get comfortable on the couch with her ankle throbbing the way it is, and she doesn’t think she could manage the way that your legs always tangle together in sleep right now.

You hardly notice that she isn’t laying there next to you, sound asleep after taking some NyQuil to help your own symptoms.

But come the next morning, you realize that you aren’t waking up in her arms like you usually would.

“Mel?” you attempt to get out. You curse silently when all that comes out of your mouth is air.

You hear her groan from downstairs, and then you hear that familiar sound of a body being peeled off of the plastic covered couch. With a soft sigh, you begin to prepare yourself for the next day of school. You hear the grunts coming from your girlfriend downstairs as she attempts to get herself up the steps to get ready for work herself.

“Hey gorgeous,” you hear her low morning voice as you feel her warm arms wrap their way around your midsection. She presses a kiss to your cheek. “How are you feeling?”

You shrug before pointing to her with raised eyebrows.

“No voice still?” the redhead asks, and you shake your head before gesturing to her again. “Hurts a little, but it ain’t nothin’ I can’t handle.”

You give her a look of disbelief, but she just kisses you again and smiles as she reaches for her own toothbrush.

Of course, she insists on driving again. Walking into the school takes longer than usual for your girlfriend, her limp more apparent than it was yesterday. She really can’t put any pressure on her ankle without gasping in pain.

She plops herself into a seat before attempting to con any of the other people in your friend group to make the two of you coffee.

Janine, of course it’s Janine, tells the redhead that it’s clear that she’s worse than she was yesterday and that her ankle needs medical attention.

Your girlfriend, in true Schemmenti fashion, argues that. And then Gregory is telling her that what she rhetorically asked is exactly what a doctor would do for.

“Hun,” you rasp out. “You couldn’t even make it up to bed last night.”

“I fell asleep watching Housewives, Y/N,” Melissa sighs as she runs the pad of her thumb over your knuckles. “Jeez.”

That day after school, you’re laying on the couch with your eyes half closed. God, whatever you have is really throwing you for a loop. But you can’t let yourself fall asleep because you’ve vowed to yourself that if your injured girlfriend needs help, you will be the one to help her.

She only continues to shrug off your offers to help, claiming that she can do it all herself. That is, until you practically force her to sit down on the couch next to you with a pack of ice. You lift her leg and set it up on the coffee table with a pillow propped under it. And then you gently lay the ice down. She gasps at the sensation, and then her eyes darken.

“Y/N,” she kicks the ice away. “I said I’m fine. I said I’m the one taking care of you tonight. Can you just- quit it?”

“I won’t ‘just quit it’, Melissa. It’s clear that you’re hurt, and I really should be taking you to the hospital for your ankle.”

“Jesus Christ,” your girlfriend mumbles. “Leave me alone about it. Hun, I’m fine. I promise you- it’s just going to be sore for the next couple of days, and then I’ll be right as rain. Just, trust me?”

“Fine,” you scoff. “If you want me to leave you alone, then I will.”

You make your way up the steps and lay in bed, saddened by your girlfriend’s words. You’re drifting in and out of sleep when she comes in and kisses your head softly. “I love you.”

You sigh softly. “If it isn’t better by tomorrow, we’re going to the doctor.”

“Sure,” Melissa huffs. Then she softens. “Why don’t you take a nap, mi amore? I know you’re tired.”

You finally give in and give your body what it wants- rest, full rest. You don’t wake up until the next morning when your alarm is going off on your phone.

While you’re asleep though, Melissa thinks. She really doesn’t want to go to the doctor, but her ankle isn’t getting any better. If anything, it’s getting worse. So, she has to take drastic measures. She manages to hop her way to the medicine cabinet and begins to rifle through it. Painkillers- nice. Are they expired? Yes. Does she care? No. She pockets them before laying back down on the couch with you and pulling you into her arms, kissing your head softly.

The next morning, it seems as though Melissa has done a 180. She’s walking around just fine, she’s in a much better mood, and there hasn’t been a complaint out of her mouth about the pain that she was in just yesterday.

“See?” Your girlfriend’s eyes sparkle as she cooks you breakfast. “I told you: I’m right as rain now, aren’t I babe?”

You just roll your eyes and kiss her cheek. “Okay, hun.” Oh thank God- you’re voice is at least somewhat back to normal.

She dances into the school and into the staffroom while you head off towards the bathroom, and your friend group is just as surprised as you were this morning to see how much better the redhead is feeling.

You’re walking into the staffroom just as your girlfriend admits that she found some painkillers at the house, and you practically jump to grab the bottle out of her hands.

“Those are mine.” You then continue to read the label.

“Melissa!” Barbara cuts in and grabs the bottle. She looks at the expiration date. “These are way passed expired!”

The redhead just waves a hand in dismissal, claiming that they still do the trick if you just double up on them. Before she can get another word out about how she’s feeling good, you have to leave. You storm out of the room, not caring that the door slams behind you. Your group of friends can hear your shoes hitting the linoleum tile with more force than usual.

“What the hell was that?” Barbara asks quietly.

Even in her high stupor, Melissa knows- you’re mad that she would stoop to such a level. “She’s pissed… I- I need to go see the nurse.”

You’re enraged that your girlfriend would go as low to taking expired painkillers- ones that weren’t even hers to begin with. And then you’re more upset with yourself for not having thrown them out. After what feels like forever, you know that you have to get ahold of your emotions. You’re students will be walking in soon, and you can’t be this upset when they come in.

You take a deep breath, shake your hands out, and put that practiced smile on your face like you’ve had to do so many times before. The bell to allow the children to start making their way down to the classrooms chimes, and your brow furrows slightly. You hadn’t heard your girlfriend make her way down the hallway, which is odd; you can always hear her heeled boots.

Quietly, you make your way out of your classroom and into the hallway, standing where you can see the redhead’s room nicely. She’s sitting at her desk, body turned to face the doorway… and she isn’t wearing her boots? She doesn’t even have a shoe on her injured foot. It’s actually elevated with ice resting on it.

“What the fuck?” you mutter to yourself.

Your girlfriend sees that you’re looking at her curiously, and she just shrugs apologetically to you. You roll your eyes and head back into your own classroom.

Come lunch time, Melissa is still sitting in her chair, teaching from her desk. Her kids are lining up to head out, but she doesn’t so much as move. Her class ends up tagging onto the end of your line as they’ve done for the past few days. You drop them all at the cafeteria before making your way into the staff room.

“Where’s Melissa?” you roll your eyes as you grab your lunch from the refrigerator.

“Her classroom,” Barbara tells you. “I took her down her lunch and an ice pack.”

You nod before taking your salad out of the room with you and making your way back down the hall towards your girlfriend.

When you can see her, she’s sitting at her desk with her foot propped up and the aforementioned ice pack resting over the bruise.

“Hey,” Melissa waves you in quietly.

You just look to her as you stand in her doorway. “I’m beyond pissed with you, you know,” you say flatly.

“I know,” the redhead sighs. She gestures for you to come in. You do, taking a student chair and pulling it up to her desk.

Her hand very quickly finds its way into your own, squeezing it gently. “Mi amore.”

“I can’t believe you.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.”

You pull your hand from hers. “I mean, seriously, Melissa. Denying my help, telling me that you were just fine when you clearly weren’t, and then stooping so low as to stealing my painkillers that were expired? You have to be kidding me!”

“I-” Your girlfriend cups your cheek gently. “Honey, I’m sorry.”

“You should be,” you huff.

“I fucked up by not letting you help me, I know I did,” the redhead admits quietly. “I know it doesn’t excuse it, but I just… I’ve never had anyone so willing to look after me when I’m not at a hundred… Joe always left me to my own devices, and other flings didn’t care enough to help.”

“I’m not Joe,” you hiss. “And I’m certainly not just some stupid little fling of yours.”

Soft lips meet your own. “I know. I know you aren’t. You’re you, and you care so deeply for me and are so willing to take care of me. But you have to understand that I’m not used to that. I’ve always had to fend for myself.”

“You don’t have to do that anymore,” you sigh.

“I know,” Melissa mumbles. “But I- I-” She shakes her head softly as she tries to figure out how she wants to word this. “I didn’t want to be dependent on you, especially while you were sick. So I made a stupid decision- one that I entirely regret, because it clearly hurt you and made you feel like I didn’t need you, when I do.”

You nod along.

“And after you stormed out of the break room today, I really knew I fucked up. So… I went down to the nurse, asked Barbara to bring me my lunch and an icepack, and I scheduled an appointment to check out my foot once school is over.”

“You did?” you ask quietly.

Your girlfriend nods. “I did. And… I was kinda hoping my beautiful girlfriend would take me there after work today?”

You have to fight the urge to roll your eyes and tell her that you would’ve done that days ago. Instead you just give her a tight lipped smile and nod. “You know I will. But I’m driving.”

The next morning, you carry your things on one shoulder and Melissa’s things on the other. You ensure that she can easily make her way into the school with her crutches now.

“So you went to the doctor?” Janine asks when she sees the two of you making your way down to the classroom.

“Grade two ankle sprain, wrist bruise, knee abrasion,” your girlfriend relays. “So… you know, no big deal, like I said.”

You give her a look in disbelief.

“Okay, okay,” the redhead rolls her eyes. “So, maybe a bigger deal than I thought it was. But I’ll be alright, because I know I have my wonderful girlfriend to help take care of me while I get back to one hundred percent.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes. “Alright, Schemmenti. Let’s go. You gotta ice your ankle again before the kids get here.”

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @sweetcheeksschemmenti @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie @temilyrights @emilynissangtr @squinnchy @dopenightmaretyphoon @emeraldoceansstuff @shinyfaerielights @blkmxrvel @marvelwomenrule @sarahjohannson @casualfoxwitch @babytakeittothehead

#abbott elementary #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary fanfic #lisa ann walter #melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you

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theonottsbxtch · 3 months ago

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WHATS LEFT BEHIND PT.5 | MV1

an: FINAL PART LETS GO! i actually now need myself a bull rider boyfriend. call me a buckle bunny but im booking my flights to texas NEOW

summary: when max verstappen left his childhood girlfriend behind to face her career ending injury alone to chase his dreams of being the best bull rider the country has ever seen, he thought it would be easy. except it wasn't, he was back in town and they hated him, for one reason. they hurt their star barrel racer.

wc: 5.3k

part one | part two | part three |

A week had passed since Max had started working at the barn, and, as much as he’d hoped things would smooth over quickly, she hadn’t exactly made life easy. She didn’t make his life hell, but she sure as hell made him work for every bit of her attention—and he was determined not to back down.

Every morning started the same. He’d roll up before dawn, grabbing her usual coffee order along with his own, and leave it on her desk in the barn’s office before heading out to do whatever Leslie had lined up for him. She never said thank you, but he noticed the empty coffee cups in the trash each afternoon. That was a win, even if she refused to acknowledge it.

But the rest of the day? She kept him on his toes. Whether it was piling on extra chores—cleaning the muck out of the hardest-to-reach stalls, fixing a fence she’d “forgotten” to mention was half-broken, or rearranging hay bales just after he’d finished stacking them—she found ways to keep him busy.

She didn’t nag or yell, though. No, that would have been too easy. Instead, she went about her work like he wasn’t even there, leaving him with that cool, indifferent attitude that drove him half-crazy. And yet, in those quiet moments, when he’d catch her out of the corner of his eye, he’d sometimes see her watching him, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her face before she turned away.

It was enough to keep him going.

That Friday, Max found himself knee-deep in the back stalls, mucking out the worst of the mess while she worked in the far corner, brushing down one of the horses. The barn was quiet, except for the occasional whinny or shuffle of hooves. He glanced up every now and then, hoping for a chance to talk to her, but she kept her distance, focused on her task.

When lunchtime rolled around, he wiped the sweat from his brow and tossed the shovel to the side. His arms ached, and he could feel the strain in his back from the week’s work, but he wasn’t about to complain. He’d do anything to stay in her orbit, no matter how many stalls he had to clean or fences he had to fix.

He stepped outside, taking a moment to breathe in the fresh air. The sun hung high, casting a warm glow over the fields. She walked out a few minutes later, heading toward her truck. He figured she’d drive off like she had been doing all week, probably to meet Heidi for lunch or to run errands.

But then she paused at her door, glancing back at him.

"You missed a spot in stall five," she said, her tone deadpan, though he swore he saw the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at her lips.

Max wiped his hands on his jeans and shot her a grin. "I’ll get right on that."

She raised an eyebrow. "Better."

She didn’t wait for his response, just climbed into her truck and drove off, leaving a trail of dust in her wake.

And an hour later, when Max had finished the stalls, double-checking the one she’d pointed out. It was spotless, of course, but he wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of calling her out on it. He was learning her rhythm—the small ways she tested him, the subtle pushes to see if he’d break. But he wasn’t about to.

As he stepped out of the barn, wiping the dirt off his boots, Leslie walked up, arms crossed, watching him with an amused look.

"She’s making you work for it, huh?" Leslie said, her voice laced with amusement.

Max chuckled, shaking his head. "Is it that obvious?"

Leslie smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Oh, it’s clear as day, cowboy. She might not say much, but she sees everything. And trust me, she’s watching you closer than you think."

"Yeah," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I figured as much."

"You holding up okay?" Leslie asked, more serious now. "She’s not making it easy, but if anyone can handle it, it’s you."

Max glanced back toward the direction her truck had disappeared. "I’ll take whatever she throws at me. I owe her that much."

Leslie nodded, her expression softening. "Just don’t push too hard, alright? She’ll come around. Maybe slower than you’d like, but she will."

Max let out a breath, his determination still strong. "I’m not going anywhere."

"Good," Leslie said, giving him a pat on the arm before walking off.

As the afternoon wore on, Max stayed busy with his tasks, but he couldn’t help thinking about her, about how she kept her walls so high, how she tested him day after day. But he wasn’t here for an easy win. He was here to make things right.

And if that meant mucking out stalls and rebuilding fences until she finally let him in? So be it.

Later that evening, she was sat in Heidi's kitchen, her hands wrapped around a warm mug of tea. Heidi was perched on the counter, scrolling through her phone before glancing up at her, who had been unusually quiet for most of their hangout.

"You alright?" Heidi asked, narrowing her eyes with a knowing look. "You seem... distracted."

She sighed, leaning back against her chair. "Just tired, I guess. It's been a long week."

Heidi gave her a pointed look. "Or maybe it's not the work that's tiring you out, but who you're working with."

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. "Please, Heidi. Don't start."

Heidi grinned, hopping off the counter and leaning in closer. "Come on, angel. I’ve seen the way he’s been busting his ass at the barn. Everyone has. He’s practically on call for any chore you throw at him. You’ve got to admit, he's putting in the effort."

She sipped her tea, her expression softening despite herself. "Yeah, maybe. But it doesn’t change anything, Heidi. What he did... I can’t just forget all of that."

Heidi raised an eyebrow, setting her phone down. "Look, I'm not saying you should forget it. But forgiveness isn’t about erasing the past, it’s about letting go of it. You see the way he’s trying. People don’t do that unless they really care."

She stared into her mug, her mind flicking through the past week. The coffee left on her desk each morning, the small fixes around the barn that Max did without a word, the way he smiled when he thought she wasn’t looking. She couldn’t deny it—he was making an effort, a real one.

But was it enough?

That night, she headed over to her mother's, her conversation with Heidi replaying in her mind. It was getting late, and the evening sun had dipped low in the sky, casting a warm glow across the yard as she pulled into her driveway. As she got out of her truck, something unusual caught her eye.

The ramp leading up to her mother’s front porch—usually creaky and worn—looked... different. Fixed. The wood was fresh, the railing sturdy. She frowned, puzzled. She had been meaning to repair it herself but hadn't found the time yet.

Curious, she headed inside, finding her mother sitting comfortably at the kitchen table reading a cookbook.

"Hey, Mum," she said, dropping her keys on the counter. "I noticed the ramp out front. Did you hire someone to fix it?"

Her mother looked up from her book with a soft smile, shaking her head. "Oh no, honey, I didn’t hire anyone."

She blinked, confused. "Then how did it get fixed?"

Her mother’s smile widened, a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. "Max stopped by earlier this week. He saw the ramp and said it wasn’t in any state for ‘a woman like me’ to be using, so he fixed it. Didn’t ask for anything, just said it was his pleasure."

Her chest tightened, warmth flooding her in a way she hadn’t expected. She stared at her mother, trying to process the thought of Max—without any prodding, without any expectation of acknowledgment—quietly fixing the ramp.

"He did that?" she asked softly, more to herself than to her mother.

"Sure did," her mom replied. "And you should’ve seen the look on his face when I thanked him. Almost like he didn’t expect anyone to notice."

She bit her lip, fighting the tug at her heart. He was making an effort, far beyond what she had expected. And it wasn’t just for show—it was genuine, thoughtful, and quietly persistent. She couldn’t ignore that anymore, no matter how hard she tried to keep her walls up.

Later that night, as she lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, she couldn’t shake the image of Max fixing her mother’s ramp. He hadn’t told her. He hadn’t even tried to get credit for it. He was just... there. Trying. For her.

And for the first time in a long time, she allowed herself to admit that maybe, just maybe, she was starting to care again.

The following morning, she went about her usual routine, but with one small difference. As she packed her lunch, she threw in an extra sandwich, a bag of chips, and some fruit. Her hands moved on autopilot, but her mind was elsewhere, replaying the events of the past few days. She still wasn’t sure what to make of everything, but a small part of her—one she hadn’t listened to in years—was softening.

Arriving at the barn, she found Max already working. His back was turned to her as he fixed one of the fences, the morning sun casting long shadows across the yard. His worn-out flannel shirt clung to his frame, muscles flexing with every hammer strike. She lingered for a second longer than she intended, watching him in quiet thought.

“Morning,” she called out, snapping herself out of it.

Max turned, wiping the sweat from his brow, and smiled at her. “Morning.”

She didn’t return the smile, but something in her expression was a little lighter today. She walked past him to start her own tasks, her heart beating a bit faster than usual.

As lunchtime approached, she gathered the packed lunches from her bag and headed to where Max was working. He was kneeling by a row of tools, setting them down with precision. He hadn’t noticed her approach yet.

She stood there for a moment, unsure of how to go about it. This wasn’t a peace offering—at least, she wasn’t ready to call it that—but it was... something.

“Hey,” she called out again, a little softer this time.

Max stood up, wiping his hands on his jeans as he turned toward her. “What’s up?”

“I packed extra,” she said, holding up the food, her voice steady but neutral. “Figured you might want to eat with me.”

Max’s surprise was unmistakable. His eyes flickered from the lunch she held to her face, as if trying to make sure he wasn’t imagining it. “You—uh—yeah, sure. That’d be great.”

She led them over to a shaded area near the barn, where they sat side by side on a patch of grass. The air was filled with the scent of hay and the sound of distant horses. She handed him the sandwich without saying anything more, and they ate in silence.

The quiet wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was loaded with unspoken thoughts. Max didn’t dare speak, afraid that saying the wrong thing might ruin this fragile truce between them. So he savoured the moment instead—the fact that she’d thought of him at all, that she’d packed lunch for him. It wasn’t much, but to him, it was everything.

Every now and then, she would glance at him from the corner of her eye, noticing how he ate slowly, as if he was trying to make the moment last. He didn’t try to force conversation, didn’t push her for more than she was willing to give. And oddly enough, she appreciated that.

When they finished, Max balled up the wrapper from his sandwich and looked at her with a small, grateful smile. “Thanks. For this. It means a lot.”

She didn’t say anything at first, just nodded as she folded her legs under herself. But inside, she could feel the cracks widening, her walls slowly crumbling under the weight of his quiet persistence.

“Don’t read into it,” she finally said, though her tone lacked its usual sharpness.

Max chuckled softly, shaking his head. “I’m just happy you thought of me.”

And for the first time in a long while, she didn’t snap back or pull away. Instead, she sat there in silence, the remnants of lunch between them, and let herself enjoy the stillness.

As she watched him from the corner of her eye, she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

That night, she found herself back at the rodeo grounds. The arena was empty, illuminated by the soft glow of the arena lights overhead. The cool night air swept through the open space, carrying with it the familiar scent of dust and hay. She had her horse, Luna, with her, and despite the late hour, she wanted to try a new technique with the barrels. Something had been nagging at her all day—a feeling that she needed to push herself harder, to regain what she felt she'd lost over the years.

After saddling Luna and setting up the barrels, she took a deep breath. Her heart raced, but she was determined. She mounted Luna and gave a gentle nudge with her heels, signalling the start. They took off at a steady gallop, rounding the barrels, leaning in and guiding Luna with precision. But something went wrong as they approached the last turn.

Luna slipped on the soft dirt, throwing off their balance. She felt herself lurch forward, unable to regain control. Before she knew it, her body hit the ground with a hard thud, her leg twisting beneath her.

A sharp pain shot through her shin, and the air was knocked from her lungs. She lay there for a moment, disoriented, trying to gather her breath. But as the pain intensified, a sinking realisation hit her—something was wrong.

She clenched her teeth, willing herself to move. Her hands dug into the dirt as she tried to stand, but the pain in her leg made her gasp. She collapsed back onto the ground, her chest heaving as the tears welled in her eyes. She knew she couldn’t walk on it, and the frustration burned deep inside her.

“Damn it,” she hissed under her breath, the reality of her situation settling in. Her eyes darted to the bench by the fence, where her phone lay. If she could just reach it, she could call for help.

Gritting her teeth, she pulled herself up into a sitting position. The pain in her leg was unbearable, but she forced herself to move, dragging her body toward the bench. Every inch felt like a mile, and by the time she reached it, her hands were trembling from the effort and pain.

She grabbed her phone, swiping it open with shaking fingers. For a moment, she hesitated. There was only one person who came to mind in her state, but calling him would mean admitting she needed him. Swallowing her pride, she scrolled through her contacts and hit Max’s number.

The phone rang twice before she heard his voice, laced with sleep and confusion. “Darlin’? What’s going on?”

Her voice cracked as she spoke, trying to keep it steady. “Max... I need your help.”

There was silence on the other end for a split second, and then, his tone shifted, becoming sharper, more alert. “Where are you? What happened?”

“I’m at the rodeo grounds,” she said, her breath shallow. “I fell... I think I fractured my shin. I can’t— I can’t stand.”

“I’m on my way,” Max said, no hesitation in his voice. “Stay where you are. I’ll be there in five.”

The call ended, and she rested her head back against the bench, her tears finally spilling over. She hated feeling this vulnerable, this helpless. But in that moment, all she could do was wait and hope Max could get to her before the pain became too much.

Max rolled out of bed the moment her call ended, barely taking a second to throw on a shirt. His mind raced as he grabbed the first aid kit he always kept in his truck, along with two pillows he stuffed under his arm. He cursed under his breath, already imagining the worst, knowing that she wouldn’t have called him unless she had no other choice.

He drove through the quiet streets toward the rodeo grounds way above the speed limit, his heart pounding in time with the thrum of his engine. The sky was still dark, the early morning stars fading into the approaching dawn. When he finally arrived at the arena, his headlights washed over her, slumped against the bench, her face pale and streaked with dirt and pain.

He was out of the truck and by her side in seconds.

“Sweetheart, hey,” he said, his voice soft but urgent as he knelt beside her. His hair was a mess, and she could tell he’d come straight from bed. She could even make out the faint marks on his face from where his pillow had pressed into his skin. Despite everything, she felt a strange warmth in her chest at the sight of him so unguarded, so rushed.

“You really didn’t have to come this fast,” she muttered, trying to keep her voice light through the pain, but Max was already assessing her leg.

“You said you couldn’t stand,” he said, his tone firm as he gently touched the area around her shin, making her wince. “Yeah, you weren’t kidding. Looks pretty swollen. You did a number on it.”

Without wasting another moment, he positioned the pillows beneath her leg, carefully lifting her injured shin with as much tenderness as he could muster. “We need to keep this elevated.”

She leaned back, biting her lip against the surge of pain as he made her comfortable. “I’m fine, Max. Just... get me to the hospital, okay?”

“Yeah, we’re going,” he nodded. “Okay, let’s get you into the truck.”

He slipped his arms under her without warning, lifting her off the ground with an ease that made her breath catch. For a moment, she wanted to protest, tell him she could manage, but the truth was, she couldn’t. And something about the way he carried her, like she was fragile and precious, made her fall silent.

Max gently settled her into the passenger seat, making sure her leg was resting on the pillows he had brought. Once she was situated, he leaned in for a second, his eyes locking on hers.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” she breathed, her voice a little softer than before. “Thanks.”

He gave her a quick nod before stepping away, his boots crunching in the dirt as he turned back toward Luna, who had been waiting anxiously nearby. She watched as Max took the reins, speaking softly to the horse to calm her down. He led Luna toward the stable, his movements steady and practised, like he’d done it a thousand times.

After securing Luna safely in a stall, Max pulled out his phone and dialled Daniel, explaining the situation. “Hey, man, can you come get her horse from the Rodeo Grounds off Milton? Yeah, she’s here, she had a fall and I’m taking her to the hospital now.”

Daniel must’ve agreed because Max gave a quick thanks and hung up, heading back to the truck. He climbed into the driver’s seat, glancing over at her as he started the engine.

“You ready?” he asked, his voice a little softer now.

She nodded, her head leaning back against the seat, her face tense with pain but somehow calmer now that he was with her. She shifted slightly, her hand resting over her shin. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Max didn’t waste any more time. He pulled out of the rodeo grounds, the truck rumbling down the road toward the hospital. Every now and then, he’d glance over at her, making sure she was okay, but she kept her eyes forward, trying to focus on anything other than the throbbing in her leg.

When they pulled up to the hospital, Max jumped out of the truck and went straight for help. Within minutes, a nurse brought a wheelchair over, and she was gently transferred from the truck into the chair. She gritted her teeth as pain radiated through her shin with every small movement, but Max was there, his hand on her shoulder, steady and reassuring.

Once they got her inside and into a room, the doctors took over, examining her leg and running x-rays. Max never left her side. Even when the doctors moved her to a bed and propped her leg up with more pillows, he sat in a chair nearby, his eyes fixed on her like he was afraid she might disappear if he looked away for even a second.

The cast came next, wrapping her shin from ankle to knee, and while the doctors spoke to her about recovery time and physical therapy, she could only focus on Max sitting quietly by the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together, but his body still tense with worry.

Once the doctors left the room, silence settled between them. It was just the two of them now, and she was suddenly very aware of the soft hum of the hospital, the sound of her own breathing, and the way Max’s presence seemed to fill every inch of the small room.

She shifted slightly on the bed, wincing at the tug of pain. Max noticed and immediately stood, closing the distance between them. Without a word, he leaned down, gently brushing the hair from her face, and then he pressed his lips softly against her forehead.

The simple, tender gesture sent a warmth through her that had nothing to do with the hospital blankets. Her breath caught in her throat as her heart began to race. She could feel the weight of years between them, the unresolved emotions swirling in the air, and then, as if he could sense it too, Max spoke.

“I ain’t leaving this time,” he whispered, his voice low and rough, full of quiet resolve. His thumb traced gently along her temple, his touch soft but firm, grounding her in the moment.

She blinked up at him, her chest tightening as the words sank in. There was a vulnerability in his voice, something she hadn’t heard before, and it disarmed her.

"You said that when we were kids," she whispered back, her voice laced with a mix of old hurt and hesitation.

“I know,” he said, straightening up but never taking his eyes off her. “But this time, I mean it.”

For the first time in years, she saw something in his eyes that she hadn’t seen since they were teenagers—pure, unguarded sincerity. And for a moment, it scared her. She had built so many walls to protect herself from this exact moment, from feeling anything for him again. But here he was, and somehow, without even trying, he was breaking through those walls.

She swallowed hard, looking away as she fought the urge to let her guard down completely. “You can’t just say things like that and expect me to believe you.”

“I know,” Max said quietly, his voice steady but soft. “But I’ll prove it to you, darlin’. I promise.” He took a step back, giving her space. "I’ll be here. Every day. For as long as it takes."

She felt something stir deep in her chest, something she hadn’t allowed herself to feel for so long. But she wasn’t ready to acknowledge it yet. So instead, she looked away, blinking back the sudden sting in her eyes, and said nothing.

Max didn’t push. He just pulled the chair back up beside her bed and sat down again, settling in like he was prepared to stay as long as she needed him to.

And in that moment, she realised that maybe—just maybe—this time, he really meant it.

The following morning she stirred slowly, the soft beeping of machines and the faint smell of antiseptic greeting her as she opened her eyes. For a moment, she was disoriented, the hospital room unfamiliar, the bright light overhead too harsh. But as she shifted slightly, the discomfort in her leg reminded her where she was.

And then she saw him.

Max was slumped in the chair beside her bed, his head tilted back, mouth slightly open, and the light from the window fell across his face. He looked worn out, the stubble on his jaw accentuating the dark circles under his eyes. It was clear he had fallen asleep waiting for her to wake up, and her heart swelled at the sight. He looked so peaceful, but she couldn’t help but wonder how uncomfortable that chair must be after a long night.

Just as she was about to call out to him, the door creaked open, and her mother walked in, followed closely by Heidi. They both froze for a second, taking in the scene: her awake in bed and Max asleep in the chair, clearly the protector she needed.

“Oh, honey!” her mother exclaimed, rushing to her side. “You’re awake!” She brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, concern etched on her features. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a truck,” she replied, her voice hoarse but light. She glanced at Max again, a soft smile breaking across her face. “Is he okay?”

Heidi exchanged a knowing look with her mother, both of them trying to suppress their amusement. “Looks like he’s been here all night,” Heidi said quietly, her eyes sparkling with warmth. “I think he’s more tired than you are.”

Her heart fluttered at that, a mixture of gratitude and guilt washing over her. She hadn’t wanted him to feel like he had to stay, but the sight of him right there, ready to care for her, warmed her in a way she hadn’t expected.

As if on cue, Max stirred, blinking awake and immediately focusing on her. His eyes brightened, and he pushed himself upright, shaking off the remnants of sleep. “Hey,” he murmured, voice gravelly. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I ran a marathon,” she replied, attempting to joke. “But it’s nice to see you.”

He smiled, a small, genuine smile that made her heart skip a beat. Just then, her mother cleared her throat, and the atmosphere shifted slightly.

“Sweetpea, we’ll let you have some time with Max,” her mother said, glancing knowingly at the two of them. “He clearly has something to say.” She motioned for Heidi to follow her out.

“Mum, wait—” she started, but her mother was already closing the door behind her, leaving her alone with Max.

The moment stretched, the air thick with unspoken words. She was both grateful for the space and hesitant about what to say.

Max leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his expression earnest. “Darlin’, about last night—”

Before he could finish, the door swung open again, this time revealing her mother and Heidi, who walked back in.

“Sorry to interrupt!” her mother chirped, but the way her eyes sparkled indicated they weren’t sorry at all. “We just wanted to let you know that we’re going to grab some coffee and food. We’ll be back shortly.”

As they turned to leave, Heidi shot her a quick wink, whispering loud enough for Max to hear, “Looks like someone’s going to stay this time.”

She felt the heat rise to her cheeks, and Max’s gaze flickered between the two women before he smirked, clearly amused by their implication. “Yeah, I’m not going anywhere,” he said, the confidence in his voice sending warmth spreading through her.

As her mother and Heidi exited the room, Max settled back into the chair, the teasing atmosphere dissipating into something deeper. “I meant what I said last night,” he added, his tone serious. “I’m not leaving this time, darlin’. You can count on me.”

She swallowed, her heart racing at the promise in his words. She wanted to believe him, to trust him again, but she knew it would take time. Still, there was a flicker of hope, a spark that hadn’t been there before.

“Okay,” she said softly, meeting his gaze. “I hope you mean that.”

He nodded, a small smile breaking across his face, and in that moment, the air between them was charged with the possibility of healing, of building something new together.

She watched as Max's eyes darkened with a mix of emotions—relief, longing, and something else she couldn’t quite place. She felt the air between them thicken, charged with the weight of everything they had been through, all the words unsaid, and the feelings that had lingered for far too long.

Before she could think, she reached out, gripping the edge of the hospital bed. “Max—”

He leaned in closer, his eyes locked onto hers, as if he could see right into her soul. “Sweetheart, I know things are complicated, and I know I hurt you—”

“I just—”

But the moment hung between them, fragile yet electric. She could feel the pull, a magnetic force drawing them closer, igniting a fire she thought had dimmed years ago.

And then it happened. Max surged forward, capturing her lips with his in a kiss that was both tender and fierce. It was a kiss filled with the weight of their history, the longing that had been buried beneath years of pain, and the passion that had never truly faded. She melted into him, her fingers tangling in his hair as she kissed him back with an intensity she hadn’t realised she was capable of.

The world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them, lost in a moment that felt both like a homecoming and a revelation. She could feel his warmth enveloping her, wrapping her in safety and comfort. The soft beeping of the machines and the sterile scent of the hospital evaporated, replaced by the sweetness of his breath mingling with hers.

As they pulled apart, breathless, Her heart raced. She could see the depth of his feelings reflected in his eyes, but the weight of everything that had happened loomed over them like a dark cloud.

“Max…” she started, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he interrupted, his voice thick with emotion. “I never stopped loving you. I know you can’t just forget everything that happened, but I’m here to stay. I’m here to be yours, and I’m—”

But she didn’t let him finish. Instead, she pulled him forward, capturing his lips again, desperate to erase the doubt and fear that threatened to invade this fragile moment. The kiss deepened, their lips moving in a passionate dance, a combination of urgency and need. It felt like they were reclaiming something that had always belonged to them, something that had been buried but never forgotten.

Their breaths mingled, and she felt herself surrendering completely. She could feel the warmth of his body radiating against her, and it ignited something deep within her, a fire that had been dormant for far too long. She pulled him closer, as if she could merge their bodies, their souls, into one.

Finally, they broke apart, both gasping for air, foreheads resting against each other, hearts racing in unison. She looked into his eyes, searching for certainty, and saw the sincerity etched in every line of his face.

“Okay,” she murmured, a smile breaking through the tension. “You can stay.”

Max grinned, his relief palpable. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she said, her heart fluttering with hope. “But you better be prepared to work for it.”

He laughed softly, a sound that made her heart soar. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

the end.

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mxtantrights · 7 months ago

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WAIT WAIT WAIT what about Jason being head over heels for the person who runs his favourite food truck… he will take every opportunity to stop by and order rather it be as a civilian or in mask 🤔

A/n: thank you for sending this in. You know what's so funny anon. Jason really wouldn't care about keeping his identity a secret to you. he would try to keep it a secret but if you happened to find out, he wouldn't mind. especially if it meant he could ask you out. so with that in mind... enjoy!! <3333

Jason probably had many bad ideas but this one, this one right here takes the cake for the worst idea he has and ever will have. But he can't really think of anything else. He can't, when he can feel the blood coming out of his wounds and his Hemet on the fritz.

He sees your truck in the distance. He must have cut this way out of habit. This is the usual way of getting to the food truck you own. He knew no one was following him here, and that's the only reason he has this idea.

You'd have napkins. And some cleaning supplies. He could make do with such things. Until he got back home and took care of it himself. Yeah, until then.

He also hadn't seen you in two weeks. Nevermind missing the food, he wanted to see your face again. He was away on a mission in Star City.

Jason hobbles over to the back of your truck. The front is closed up already. You're about to leave. He knocks on the back door and waits for a response.

And respond you do.

You open the door he isn't currently leaning on. When you poke your head out of the door and see him you a do a double take. But you don't gasp. You don't scream. You're not scared.

"You wouldn't happen to be busy right now would ya?" he asks you.

You look around outside. He see's your head go left and then right. Your eyes scanning for something or someone. Then you're helping him inside the truck. You help him from underneath his shoulder.

The door closes behind him as you sit him on the plastic stool. He sits with a grunt. And you can see the blood drips that lead from outside.

"How can I help you? I mean, I don't really have anything but a first aid kit." you answer.

He nods his head, "That'll work for now."

You reach up, right tin front of him, for the shelf above his head. Jason's eyes go wide on the other side of his helmet. He's probably blushing too. But he doesn't say anything.

You bring the kit down and open it up. Bandaids, alcohol pads, An epi-pen, narcan nasal spray, gloves.

"The pads and the bandaids. I'll take those."

You take them out and hand them to him. He takes apart the bandaids first, those are easiest. But he passes the pads back to you. You put the kit down and take the pads. You rip them open.

"How do I, I mean where are you hurt?" you ask.

He juts his chin to the blood seeping into his tactical pants. You lean over and look at the cut. It's not bad or deep. But it's there and bleeding.

You take out the pad, "It's gonna hurt."

"Yeah probably less than how I got it." he replies.

You take a breath and wipe the wound a bit. He winces at the contact. But you power through because he doesn't tell you to stop.

"You know it's probably not what you're expecting, but you're nicer than I thought." he says.

You look up at him, realizing now there's a difference. He took his helmet off. Your'e sitting face to face with Red Hood. Jason. You're favorite costumer Jason.

"Surprised?" he asks, teasingly.

You laugh a little, "You could say that."

#dc x reader #dc imagine #dc blurbs #Jason todd imagine #Jason todd blurb #Jason todd x reader #<333

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superliftcanada · 8 months ago

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Advanced Features of Powered High Lift Pallet Truck

Material handling is an integral part of industrial operation. It was gone those days when industrial material handling solely depended on the workers with conventional tools. Today, most industries use powered high-lift pallet trucks in various sectors, including distribution centers, warehouses, and manufacturing facilities. These sophisticated machines use advanced technologies to enhance performance while securing the working environment. Here are all the technical features of a powered high-lift pallet truck that can perfectly match all the requirements in the logistic landscape.

Electronic Control System

The electronic control system is considered the heart of the powered high-lift pallet truck. These are studded by a sophisticated network of sensors, microprocessors, and actuators that mainly help to manage the operation. This system mainly enables precise control over the speed, acceleration, lifting, and steering while ensuring smooth and efficient performance in diverse conditions. With advanced control algorithms, these outstanding material handling tools perform with optimized energy use, which helps prolong battery life and reduce operation costs.

Regenerative Braking System

The best thing about the regenerative braking system is that it harnesses the kinetic energy generated when applying the brake and converts it to electrical energy. That means it lowers power consumption, contributing to longer battery life. Plus, it also enhances efficiency while reducing the requirement of frequent external charging. It is not only an environmentally sustainable option but also helps to cut coats.

Overturn Resistance

Safety is the biggest concern in the industrial workspace. It becomes venerable when the operators have to deal with heavy loads at elevated heights. With powered high-lift pallet trucks, this parameter can be achieved easily because this material handling equipment is equipped with advanced stability and overturn resistance systems that eliminate any kind of risk of accidents. These systems mainly use sensors and algorithms to detect potential instability and automatically adjust the machine's operation while maintaining balance and preventing any kind of tipping that would jeopardize worker's safety.

Multifunctional Handle

The main point of contact between the operator and the motorized high lift pallet truck is the handle. In order to improve operator comfort and efficiency, modern trucks come with multipurpose handles that are outfitted with simple controls and ergonomic design components. With the integration of speed, lifting, lowering, and steering controls, these handles enable operators to carry out duties with ease and precision. Operators can also tailor the handle sensitivity and responsiveness to their own tastes and operating conditions thanks to adjustable options.

Emergency Reversing Button

In emergency conditions, where a quick reversal of the direction is required in order to avoid any kind of collisions or hazards, the powered high lift pallet trucks are equipped with an emergency reversing button that is located on the handle. This outstanding safety feature allows the operators to suddenly stop the forward motion and reverse direction with a single press. It helps to come out from any kind of forward motion in critical conditions, enhancing workplace safety.

Emergency Power-Off Switch

A power-off switch is another feature that is used in an emergency. It enables the operators to quickly shut down the truck's power system in the case of an emergency and malfunction. Located in a prominent and easily accessible location, the switch ensures decisive action to prevent any kind of accidents or damage to equipment and materials.

Electric Powered Steering System

The ability to maneuver large loads with ease and precision is made possible by electric power steering systems found in many contemporary powered high-lift pallet trucks. Electric motors are used in these systems to help steer, which lessens operator fatigue and improves mobility in tight places. Electric power steering systems increase operating efficiency and safety by offering rapid and smooth steering control.

Powered high-lift pallet trucks are gaining popularity due to their advanced features. With these reliable features, it becomes easy to handle heavy loads without hampering workers' safety and improving productivity.

Resource: https://superliftcanada.wordpress.com/2024/04/23/advanced-features-of-powered-high-lift-pallet-truck/

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a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all · 5 months ago

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Sweeter Than Revenge Part 2

Fandom: Twisters, Tyler Owens, f!reader, Scott's Sister!reader Summary: Setting your plan in motion, you flaunt your new "relationship" in Scott's face. However, you didn't think through what happens next as you find yourself in the middle of nowhere alone with Tyler. Word Count: 4401 TW: Family Conflict, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Tears, Brief Mention of Reader's Clothes, Reader's Past/Childhood Explained in Detail, Language Notes: A massive thank you to @blue-aconite and @green-socks for reading this over for me and for all the constant support! And to @mayhem24-7forever for always answering my late-night panicked messages

Divider created by me (please ask/credit before using)

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Later that night at the motel Tyler had given you directions to, you were just finishing applying a fresh coat of lip gloss when you heard the hoard of storm chasers and their groupies pull up outside.

Showtime.

Stepping back to look at yourself in the mirror, you wondered if you might be taking this a bit too far. Your sleeveless top had a deeply plunging neckline, the practically sheer material hugging every curve, while your jeans were cut so short even you felt slightly uncomfortable with how much they revealed from behind. It was far from your usual attire and you had only packed it on a last-minute whim.

This outfit would have you out of your comfort zone on the best of days when you were only hanging out with friends, but tonight you were wearing it to meet up with a guy you didn’t even really know. It was very possible that Tyler was a total perv planning on taking advantage of you the moment you climbed into his truck. Yet even as that thought crossed your mind, you dismissed it. Though you had spent less than an hour with him as the two of you discussed your plan for revenge, you didn’t think he was that kind of guy. In fact, he had only continued to impress you with how respectful and down-to-earth he seemed, contrary to your original assumptions.

But what did you know? Hell, you already tried to figure him out once and were way off the mark. It seemed like the only way to know for certain was to trust your gut and find out for yourself.

You took one final look at yourself, grabbed your purse off the bed, and headed towards the door.

Stepping out of your motel room and peering over the railing to the ground below, you could see the Storm PAR vehicles clustered at the end near the stairs while Tyler’s truck was parked almost directly below you. That meant you would have to walk past the group of Storm PAR guys filing out of their vehicles in order to reach Tyler.

Perfect. You couldn’t have planned that better if you had tried.

Making it to the end of the walkway, you took a deep breath, held your head up high, and arranged your face into what you hoped looked like a confident—slightly flirty—facade, and headed downstairs. You paused for a second at the bottom to straighten your top and run a hand over your hair, but then you strutted forward towards the red Dodge.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw several members of the Storm PAR team stop in their tracks as they noticed you. One nudged the guy next to him and a few pointed in your direction. Only Javi seemed uneasy as he caught sight of you. His eyes quickly darted from you to one of the trucks labeled “Scarecrow” and then back to you before he turned, running his hand through his hair with a big sigh.

Then Scott climbed out of Scarecrow.

At first, he didn’t notice you. He was looking at a tablet with his head down, but as you got closer and the murmuring got louder, he glanced up to see what the commotion was about. As he did a double-take, you watched the gum drop from his mouth and any doubts you had about this plan instantly evaporated. No longer was the smile on your face forced or the swagger in your step manufactured. Holding your head slightly higher, you let this fresh rush of adrenaline and excitement spurn you forward.

As you reached the front of Scarecrow, Scott stepped out in front of you, blocking your way. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“What do you care?” you scoffed, placing one hand on your hip, cocking it slightly. “You told me to leave you and Storm PAR alone so I’m respecting your wishes. But since I had planned on staying for the next two weeks, I found someone else who’s interested in having me around.” You looked over your shoulder at the rest of the Storm PAR team and wiggled your fingers in their direction. “You fellas have a good night. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

You pushed past Scott, not so gently shouldering him in the chest, and continued on your way. The rest of Scott’s team snickered and “ooo”ed behind you but based on how they suddenly stopped, you guessed Scott gave them one of his death glares.

Sashaying the rest of the way to where Tyler was leaning over the side of his truck, rummaging through a toolbox in the bed, you place one hand on his bicep. Giving it a light squeeze, you asked, “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, just let me—” Tyler lifted his head and his eyes grew wide as he saw what you were wearing. But then he blinked a few times and cleared his throat. “Um, just let me finish putting these away and we’ll be all set.”

“Sounds good.” You leaned against his truck, discreetly glancing back at the Storm PAR team. Scott was staring daggers in your direction but you just pretended to examine your nails like you hadn’t noticed.

A moment later, Tyler slammed the toolbox closed and straightened up. “Done.” Grabbing his hat and pulling it low over his brow, he stepped back to have a better look at you. Letting out a low whistle, he said, “Damn, sweetheart. If I had known you would come down looking like that, I’d have dressed up for the occasion.” He wrapped his arm around your waist, tugging you flush against his side. “You look gorgeous.”

His voice was a little louder than necessary and you know it’s all for your brother’s benefit. Yet, between his words and the feeling of his firm chest beneath his flannel shirt, you couldn’t stop the heat from rushing to your face. A small part of you secretly hoped it wasn’t all for show and he actually meant it.

You flashed him your most flirtatious smile and cooed loudly, “Thank you. But you don’t need to change a thing. You look amazing.”

And it was true.

Not every man pulled off the cowboy look without seeming like he was trying too hard or was going to a costume party. But Tyler must have been born in boots and a cowboy hat because you couldn’t imagine him any other way. His jeans were comfortably worn and seemed molded to his frame from constant use. His flannel long-sleeved button-down was tucked into his jeans, displaying the enormous belt buckle with “Tornado Wrangler” engraved on it. Topped off with his white cowboy hat and dark leather boots, he looked like he had just stepped off the cover of a Western romance novel.

The heat in your face grew stronger.

Tyler squeezed you closer as he asked, “You ready to go?” You nodded so he led you over and opened the passenger door. Holding out his hand, he helped you climb in before slamming the door shut. Watching out the window as he turned around, you noticed all the Storm PAR guys staring at him. Tyler must have noticed too because he touched the brim of his hat and nodded in their direction. “Fellas…..Scott.”

Then he walked to the driver’s side and climbed in. The truck rumbled to life, the vibrations of the powerful engine reverberating throughout your body. Tyler pulled out of the parking lot and onto the dark, empty highway before reaching up and turning on the radio. Low country music filled the quiet cab and he began to hum along, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. You weren’t sure where he was headed or if he even had a destination in mind.

Now that you had properly rubbed your new companion in Scott’s face, you realized you hadn’t thought about what happened next. You were kind of in the middle of nowhere with just a few scattered diners and gas stations within a reasonable distance, and it occurred to you that you had no idea if Tyler already had plans tonight before you barged into his life.

Shifting slightly in your seat, you spoke up. “Um, thanks again for doing this. If you wanna just drop me off at the nearest restaurant and come pick me up later, that’s fine. And take as long as you want. I need to be gone long enough for Scotty to really sit and stew in it.”

Tyler stopped humming to glance over at you for a second and then looked back at the road. “Did you really think I’d just dump you somewhere and take off?”

You blinked. That was exactly what you thought he might do. “Oh…I mean, you’re already doing me this huge favor. I don’t need to take up more of your time than necessary.”

“Sweetheart, I told you, you are doing me a favor by letting me mess with your brother. All those Storm PAR snobs are a pain in my ass, but deep down they seem like alright guys…. except for your brother. He’s the worst kind of hypocrite, and if all I have to do to rile him up is take a beautiful woman out to dinner, my life is going pretty good.”

You turned and looked out the window so Tyler couldn’t see the effect his words had on you. You still couldn’t tell if he actually meant any of the nice things he said about you, if it was all part of the ruse, or if he was the kind of guy who said those things to everyone, But whatever the reason, it was nice to hear.

Once you had composed yourself, you sat up a little straighter, turned back to him, and said, “Okay, but I’m buying dinner. Wherever you want, wherever you want. It’s the least I can do for you helping me out.”

Tyler smiled, his bright teeth shining in the darkness. “Alright, sweetheart. We’ve got a deal. I’ll take you to my favorite spot.”

Thirty minutes later you were sitting next to Tyler on the back of his truck, both of you holding burgers and iced teas as your legs dangled over the end of the tailgate. When he had first stopped for takeout before driving out into a random empty field, you had your doubts. However, you had promised to let him pick so you sat quietly as he stashed his cowboy hat on the dashboard before jumping out of the truck and jogging around to open your door. And as he had led you around to the back of the truck and your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you understood why he had brought the two of you here.

Taking another bite of your burger, you looked up at the clear sky, still in awe of the sheer number of stars that danced and sparkled above you. Growing up where you had, you always thought the night sky was black or maybe dark blue, but seeing it now in the middle of nowhere, far away from any man-made light, you realized that it was in fact a swirling mix of blacks, blues, purples, greens, and yellows surrounding millions of brilliant stars. It was stunning to see.

“So,” you asked around your mouthful of burger, “this is your favorite spot, huh? I can see the appeal.”

Tyler smiled, leaning against the side of the truck bed. “Well, it doesn’t have to be this spot specifically, but yeah. There’s something about the night sky a few hours after a storm has gone through that just can’t be beat.”

“Wait, a storm went through here today?” You looked around. It was hard to tell now in the dark, but thinking back to before Tyler had turned the truck headlights off, you did remember noticing a jagged path off to your right where the grass had been torn up. However, you hadn’t thought much about it at the time.

“Yep. We were out here right before heading to the diner where you found me. It was a pretty big one too. We got some great footage.”

“Guess I could look it up on YouTube, huh, Mr. Tornado Wrangler,” you teased, grabbing a fry from the bag next to you and tossing it at him, which he dove for and somehow caught in his mouth.

Chewing it, he grinned, “I didn’t know you knew about that.”

You shrugged. “I’ve watched a few videos. Scotty wouldn’t stop bitching about you guys and how unprofessional you were so I had to see for myself. Personally, I like your content. It’s fun.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear it. Wouldn’t want to find out I was going out with someone who hates what I do. Guess I owe your brother a thanks for introducing you to us…and indirectly to me.”

Just like when he had complimented your appearance, you felt a warm glow inside when he said you were going out (even though you knew that’s not what he meant…or at least, you didn’t think that’s what he meant).

Quick to change the subject, you asked something that had been on your mind for a while. “Speaking of my brother, you said earlier that Scott was the worst kind of hypocrite…what did you mean by that?”

Hesitating, he sighed, “I don’t really know your brother—not personally—so I’m not sure how much I should say…”

You laughed. “If you’re afraid of saying something about him that might offend me, don’t. I know Scotty and I’m sure whatever it is, it's warranted.”

“Well, when you put it like that...” Tyler set his drink on the tailgate next to his leg. “I don’t know how much you know about Storm PAR but they aren’t the humanitarian group of scientists trying to help the world that they try to make themselves seem like. I haven’t figured out all the details yet but I know they’re doing some backdoor business with some not-so-great people. Yet, meanwhile, your brother looks down his nose at us Wranglers, calling us sell-outs and fame-seekers. And yeah, I do use my platform to make money but we put as much of it as we can back into these communities affected by the storms. We try to do what we can to help—he can’t say the same.”

You considered what Tyler said for a moment before nodding. “Yeah…somehow that doesn’t surprise me. Scotty’s always kind of seen the world in 1s and 0s, as an equation only he can solve. But he doesn’t really care what happens with that solution or how it might affect the people involved once he’s found it. As long as he gets the credit and compensation, he’s happy. So if the only way Storm PAR has been able to get funding is by doing something shady, I don’t doubt for a second he would do it.”

“Damn. He seems worse than I thought.” Tyler looked out into the darkness, the two of you sitting in silence for a moment. Then he asked, “If your brother’s so bad, why did you come all this way to see him?”

“He’s still my brother and I love him.” Under your breath, you added, “Even if he does make it hard to like him most of the time.”

“I wouldn’t know what that’s like—never had any brothers or sisters—and the family I do have has always been really close and supportive. But it seems to me you shouldn’t have to love someone just because you’re related. Just like you don’t have to be related to love someone like family. ”

“I know, but…it’s complicated—or maybe it’s not, I don’t know.” You pulled your knees up into your chest and rested your chin on them, sighing as you wished you had never brought Scott up in the first place.

“You wanna tell me about it?”

“What?” You tilted your head sharply to look at Tyler, your brow furrowed. “You really want to hear me moan about my childhood and how it fucked up my relationship with my brother?”

Tyler shrugged. “I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t wanna, but I have been a little curious. Like, why is he treating you like shit and why are you still trying to get his attention despite that?”

“I’m not trying to…” The words felt so hollow in your mouth you trailed off instead of continuing to deny what he said.

“Tonight—us being out here together—I can see it’s not only about revenge. Maybe you don’t even realize it, but I saw the way you looked at him in the parking lot while you were waiting for me.” Tyler poked you gently with the toe of his boot. “You’re still holding out hope he’ll change his mind and ask you to join him and his team. Why?”

“You really want to know?” He nodded, staring at you patiently. Popping a french fry into your mouth, you contemplated where to start your story. Then, with a sigh, you began, “Of course, I don’t remember any of this, but I’ve heard the story enough times: When my mom was pregnant with me, there were some complications and I was born a few months early. I had to stay in the ICU for a long time and, for a while, they weren’t sure if I was going to make it. Obviously—” You held your hand in front of yourself as if to say “ta-da”. Dropping it with a thump onto the bed of the truck, you continued. “My entire life my parents referred to me as ‘their little miracle’ or ‘their angel on Earth’ because they had been so sure they were going to lose me but I didn’t realize until I left home how much my almost dying actually fucked up their relationship with both me and Scotty.”

“What do you mean?”

“In their eyes, I was this precious little gift that was almost taken from them, but at the same time, there was Scotty. Their other kid. Nothing had happened to change how they saw him. I mean, don’t get me wrong, we have great parents who love us both deeply but they treated us very differently.”

“How so?” Tyler asked, tilting his head slightly.

You shifted on the hard metal. It felt a little strange spilling your guts to this random guy you had only met earlier that day, but what felt even more bizarre was how invested and engaged he seemed in what you were saying. He stared at you as if you had his complete attention, his expression curious yet encouraging, silently urging you to continue.

Clearing your throat, you said, “Scotty was expected to get perfect grades and place first on the track team and help around the house and have an after-school job on top of all of his advanced classes and pay for all his own things. I, on the other hand, was given a car for my fifteenth birthday—about a week after I was nearly expelled from school for multiple counts of cheating and truancy. I couldn’t even have a learner’s permit at that time! My parents gave me literally anything I asked for and let me do whatever I wanted no matter how much I screwed up all while riding Scotty’s ass to ensure he was perfect. In their eyes, he could do no right and I could do no wrong…and I did a lot of wrong.”

“But how your parents treated either of you wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t change that.”

You gave a half-hearted shrug. “Maybe. But I didn’t have to take full advantage of it either. Once I realized I could do whatever I wanted without consequences, I ran wild with it. I partied, went on extravagant trips with my friends that my parents paid for, ignored my curfew, brought boys home with me to spend the night right down the hall from my parents, almost flunked out of school. I know it must sound so stupid but while it was happening…”

Shaking your head, you stared down at your hands, tears beginning to blur your vision. “I was so absorbed in my life, I didn’t see how differently Scott was being treated or what it was doing to him. I mean, don’t get me wrong, Scotty is still Scotty, even back then. He looks out for himself before anyone else and the only emotions he really knows how to convey are pissed off or sarcastic. Yet I can’t help but wonder if he’s only like that because of how unfair things were.”

You paused for a moment to wipe your eyes and collect yourself, then cleared your throat before continuing. “It wasn’t until I moved away to college and got some distance from my parents that I looked back and realized how messed up it all was. And I changed. I stopped asking them for anything, I got a job and worked my ass off to pay for school, I began aceing all of my classes…but I still haven’t been able to make it up to Scotty. I was hoping this trip would be that chance. That I could finally show him I’ve grown and changed. That I understand why he may be hurt and try to heal those wounds. But he wouldn’t even hear me out.”

You scoffed bitterly, burying your face in your hand. “So to show him how much I’ve matured, I came up with this childish plan to throw you in his face. Once again, I thought I could just get what I wanted without thinking about how it might affect my brother or what he would want.” Letting out a deep sigh, you collapsed back into the bed of the truck, staring at the stars dancing high above you. “I guess deep down I’m still that spoiled, self-centered brat I’ve always been.”

The truck jostled beneath you and, a second later, Tyler was lying down too, his face directly across from yours. Without breaking eye contact, he reached out and took your hand. “I might have only just met you, but the girl I’ve seen isn’t anything like the one you described growing up. And if that was how you used to be, you should be proud of how much work you’ve done to become this new version of yourself. Change is one of the hardest things a person can do. It's not an overnight process and we all backslide from time to time. So, yeah, maybe us going out just because you knew it would infuriate your brother isn’t the most mature thing you could have done—” you snorted and Tyler smiled before reaching over to brush a tear off your cheek, his fingers making your skin tingle as they swept across it “—but Scott deserves some blame in this too. Maybe it wasn’t fair your parents treated you both differently, but that doesn’t give him the right to behave the way he did today. He’s a grown-ass adult and should have acted like it instead of throwing a hissy fit when he saw you. So you need to stop blaming yourself for his actions.”

“Why are you being so kind to me?” you muttered, a few more tears slipping down your face. “You don’t even know me.”

“I think I’m beginning to.”

“And?” You tried to chuckle but it came out sounding more like a sniffle. There was no telling what Tyler thought when he looked at you right now—face stained with tears, nose running, eyes bloodshot and watery. You were so embarrassed you had let yourself devolve into such a complete mess in front of him and you were sure he was regretting ever meeting you. “You like what you see?”

Surprisingly, instead of retreating, his hands reached out and cupped your face, his fingers stroking soft circles across your cheeks as he wiped more tears away. “More and more by the minute.”

That broke you.

Whatever composure you had been managing to cling to shattered, and you fell apart. It wasn’t just his words that did it, it was the complete sincerity in his voice that you felt down to your soul. He wasn’t just trying to comfort you or make things better. He had listened intently to every word you said, heard about the side of yourself you tried so hard to forget, and still saw something he liked. Something he said you should be proud of.

Until that moment, you hadn’t realized how much you had needed to hear those words. Your parents never saw themselves as treating you and Scott differently so they couldn’t understand why you wanted to become independent of them or see all the progress you had made while making that happen. And Scott was never around so he hadn’t seen how hard you had worked either. Maybe that was what this trip was really about after all. Maybe, on some level, you had needed Scott to tell you he was proud of who you had become. But he hadn’t even tried to see it. Yet Tyler—this man you had met only hours earlier—had given you all the time and attention you needed to show him how far you had come and he was proud of it.

For a moment, you cried, laying alone on your side of the truck bed under the Oklahoma night sky. But then, you heard Tyler whisper, “Come here, sweetheart” and felt him gently pulling you towards him.

Once he had closed the distance between you, he positioned you so your head was resting on his shoulder, one of his arms nestled underneath you while the other held your hand, his thumb circling the back of your hand just as it had your cheek seconds before. He smelled earthy yet clean, almost like that brief moment just before a rainstorm. It was so perfectly him, that you couldn’t help but smile through your tears.

As you settled against him, you felt his lips ghost briefly against your temple before he rested his chin on the top of your head. And, laying here in this stranger’s arms, the sound of the wind drifting over the plain blending with the beat of his heart against your ear, you had never felt more safe or more seen in your life.

Part 3 coming 8/26!

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inkdrinkerworld · 6 months ago

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Inn Love Chapter 3

one two

cw: money issue talks, feelings of failure, james and reader being in love and idiots, a little angst (?) friends to lovers

wc: 2.6

“It’s not looking good,” you mutter to Mary, head in your hands as you go over the accounts one more time.

“It’s the off season, we’ll find something else to do.”

She’s too kind, too understanding. You wish she’d blow up at you and quit for not being able to pay her on time.

You sigh, long and hard. You have to figure it out. The Secret Garden is your baby, and even though this is your second year owning it, you’ve still not figured out how to supplement the off season so you make a profit.

You don’t know if you’ll ever be able to.

“We might have to. How do you feel about starting up line dancing lessons for a little bit? Just until I figure it out?”

Mary grins, nodding her head. “I’ve missed it some. Won’t exactly be hard to get back into.”

Mary’s the best worker you have. The only one you have really, but she’s still the best.

You close up your books, and double check that all the rooms have been checked out of and begin locking up.

James is waiting for you on your front steps, hat tipped low as he leans against one of the beams.

“Hey Jamie, didn’t know you were stopping by.”

You try for chipper, a smile in your voice as you hold your tote bag on your shoulder.

“Wanted to see if you wanted to get lunch with me.”

You pause, reaching right in front of him. It’s instant, the way a frown fights for the space of your smile. It’s also instant the way James notices.

“What’s wrong?” He takes your bag from you, leading you to his truck.

“Nothing. Where are we getting lunch?”

James frowns a little bit, but doesn’t press. “Had Chinese dropped off to the house, got all your favourites.”

You grin, James does this a lot and it makes your stomach flip every time.

“Meet you there?”

James frowns again, then shrugs. “Yeah, darling.”

You double back to your own truck, James setting your bag in the bench seat.

You watch James pull out first and take a moment to collect all your worry and all your anxiety and stuff it deep in your chest, burying it with a bit of hay before sighing.

You can’t let James see you’re worried or anxious, he’ll sniff the information out of you and if you tell James then you’d have failed.

The first year it was understandable, the second year; you’re not sure you could tell the person who helped you build the inn from the ground up that you’ve been having months of money troubles.

You pull up behind James, sliding out of your car and racing him to the front door.

“You still cheat.” he says with a smile, you shrug while pushing open the door. Inside James’ house, you’d think it was hot, all the southern heat trapped in the walls, but it’s always cool.

He’d explained it to you once, the stone and wood kept it cool, but also he had put in a central air con to maintain the chill.

“I got shorter legs than you James, it’d never be fair.”

James shakes his head, following you to his dining table where all the boxes are already laid out.

“How much noodles am I allowed?” James rolls his eyes. You always eat most of it and he always gets you your own box because why deprive you of your favourite thing?

James doesn’t think there’s actually anything he could deprive you of.

“Does lack of sleep mess with your memory?”

You grin when he passes you an entire box, and then the rest of what you usually like.

As you eat, the talking kind of subsides, which is weird by yours and James’ standards.

“Are you sure nothing’s wrong?” He asks when you migrate to the living room, laying out long on his sofa while he sits with your feet in his lap.

“What do you mean, Jamie?” You try hard not to stiffen your body as you respond.

He sighs, hands squeezing the arches of your feet. “I dunno, something feels wrong. Like you feel down.”

God you could cry right now. James has always been in tune to you like this, as you are with him, but it sometimes gets to be too much because lying to your best friend hurts. Especially when he can tell something is off.

“Just tired I guess.” you shrug one of your shoulders. James hums but doesn’t say anything and you feel guilt like a hot poker in your stomach.

You wiggle your toes in his lap and his hands fall back to massaging them.

“Wanna watch ‘How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days’?”

James never has to ask twice.

You don’t mean to, but you and James fall asleep right there on his sofa. Some time during the night you’ve shifted, he’s laying under you and your head is on part of his chest with your legs tangled up.

The only reason you wake up is because James’ alarm is blaring and you’ve got the worst crick in your neck.

“Make it stop,” you grumble, hiding your face in his chest as he stretches. It’s comfortable even for friends, the way James holds onto your waist as he leans over you to grab his phone.

“Shit, s’nearly four. You gotta go darling.”

You’d lasted nearly a whole three minutes without thinking about the fact that The Secret Garden wasn’t doing well.

Almost awkwardly, which is strange for you and James, you sit up. As you stretch all your joints crack and you sigh where James winces. He’s always hated how you can just crack your bones like that- he worries you’ll break them one day.

“Nah I got the day off.”

James’ eyebrows shoot up. “So the TSG is closed today?”

You wish your friend wouldn’t ask so many questions. Lying to him is hard work.

“Mary’s running the morning shift today.” James looks a little sceptical but drops it, making his way to the stairs.

“M’gonna get ready. You staying on the ranch then?”

You nod, what else is there for you to do? Plus if you use your ‘day off’ to be anywhere but the ranch, say going job hunting or to the bank, your quiet little town will somehow have your going-ons back to James in no time.

“Heat up breakfast and I’ll make us coffee.” James is back down in ten minutes, showered and changed into his wranglers, a thin white t-shirt and his work boots.

You’re sure you’ve got yours around here somewhere.

James and you work like a well greased machine, making breakfast and coffee and doing the dishes all in one go.

He tilts his head to the screen door in the kitchen that leads to his side porch.

“Wanna watch the sunrise with me and then go round do some ranch chores?”

“Still got my boots in the coat closet?” you ask and James rolls his eyes.

“When has anything of yours left this house? You’re everywhere in here.” His gaze is too intense for you to laugh it off. It also makes you feel like you’ve caged race horses in your stomach and they’re butting their fences.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing, Jamie.” is all you can manage before going in search of your boots.

James doesn’t think it’s a bad thing at all. Honestly, he wishes there were more of you in his house; he’s just not sure if saying that to you will cost him everything.

Shoving your feet into the boots you sigh, then take a peek out at the sky and shiver. “I’m taking a coat.”

“Take anything you want.”

This is why you can’t tell James about your money troubles. He’s going to give you anything to turn it around, but you’re not sure if anything he can give will. You also can’t use him anymore than you already do.

“Race you to the stables!” James takes off before you can even put down your empty mug.

“You’re such a cheater!” You whine as you race behind him, his laugh floating back to you as you reach the stable doors.

“Takes one to know one,” he says playfully, causing you to roll your eyes.

James holds the door open for you and as soon as you get in you head for Snowglobe.

“My baby,” you coo, already kissing the side of his face while James lets his own horse, Landslide, out.

“You’d swear he wasn’t nearly twenty three.”

“Don’t remind me Jamie.” you grab a brush and go through the usual maintenance just as James does with his horse.

“We’re riding up to the fences to check on the horses, then we’re feeding them.” James talks about his day like it’s easy, but you remember the hard work that goes into ranching. You’ve got your work cut out for you, and you’re not even doing the hard stuff like moving hay or any of that.

“Lead the way, Cowboy.”

After a couple hours, you go back to the big house and take a shower, well and truly exhausted. James wouldn’t let you haul hay, so you’d been feeding the animals, cleaning the stables and doing a bit of general cleaning up around the ranch while he and his farmhands mended parts of the fence, herded the cows and hauled the dried heaps of hay.

By the time James comes in, you’re halfway through preparing dinner- beef stew.

“I would’ve cooked after my shower, darling.” James says as he hangs up his hat and boots.

“Yeah, but now by the time you come back down, we can eat together.”

James frowns again, you’ve never been away from TSG for this long since it’s been opened and it’s worrying him that you won’t talk to him about it.

If he’s honest, you haven’t gushed about the inn since you left it yesterday- which is very unlike you. That place is your pride and joy and everyone knows it. Especially James.

He holds his tongue on his worry and nods.

“I’ll be back in ten.”

Through dinner, you’re on your phone, checking your accounts, trying to see where you can make more money or if you’ll have to do the one thing you don’t want to.

After your sixth sigh in ten minutes, James sets his cutlery down and reaches a hand for you.

“Darling, I know you said it’s nothing, but it’s clearly not. Can you tell me what’s wrong, please?”

Before you can answer, Sirius bursts through James’ house.

“Did you see TSG’s been closed all day? Wonder if everything’s okay.”

You freeze in your seat when James turns to you with wide eyes and a slack jaw.

Sirius coughs to dispel his embarrassment. “Sorry doll face. But why are you closed? Is everything alright?”

You can’t even be upset with Sirius because for all of his faults, he’s always concerned about you. He feels very much like an older brother in that way, even when he’s giving you shit.

You rest your head on the table and sigh.

“Don’t be upset Jamie,” you start, slow and more than a little nervous. You don’t know how you’ll feel if James is angry with you. You don’t want to feel like a failure to him. You don’t want to fail yourself even more.

“I think I’m gonna have to close the inn.”

Sirius gasps, James frowns. “Forever or for a while?”

You lift your head, “For a while. I’m not sure how long. I’ve got to go over the account but we’re not making a profit right now.”

“Darling,” he says at the same time Sirius swears.

Tears spring in your eyes. “I know, it hasn’t been making profit or any sort of money for a couple months but I thought it would pick up again, but I guess late summer is not our season.”

James stands quickly when your first tear falls and Sirius ruffles your head.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed about, it happens. I can help you work through it.” You shake your head at James’ proposal.

“You helped me start it up and I can’t even keep it running through the entire year. I can’t expect you to help me every year that I have a slow period.”

Sirius tuts, “You could always sell your bakes in the off time, dollface.”

James wipes your tears away, “I can still help. I don’t mind helping out.”

You shake your head. Sirius seems to get it before James does, and what it is you’re trying to say.

“No Jamie, I think maybe working on the ranch or doing a little baking on the side would be good. Right doll?”

You nod, “I don’t wanna keep using you Jamie.”

James tuts, tilting your chin up. Sirius takes his cue and goes into the kitchen, looking through James’ pantry.

“You don’t use me. You’ve never used me.” It’s hard to argue with James when he speaks with such conviction but you know you have.

“But I did. When I was opening up TSG, it was you helping me.”

James smiles then, “Yeah I helped, darling. It was a mutual thing. We’re friends, of course I helped you. And I can help again, but if you want to do this part on your own, I’d get it.”

James wipes your tears, gentle and sweet as ever. “I need to go do a final closing for the season and set some things in place, but can I stay here in the meantime?” You force the words out, soft and whispered against the space between you and James.

“You can stay here as long as you like,”

“Thanks Jamie.”

He shrugs, dimple poking out in his cheek as he smiles at you. “You’re always welcome darling, c’mon I’ll drive you to TSG and help with lock up.”

As it turns out, telling James you’d been struggling wasn’t that bad. It was hard and you’d felt like a failure for a little bit, but he talked good sense into you and now you’re staying with him till the start of autumn.

“I can work the ranch, Jamie.” You proposed on your second night on his sofa.

“You cannot work the entire ranch.” James wasn’t even being funny about it either. You really can’t. You get cut up easily and you blister worse than he does.

“Okay, I can work the stables.”

James rolls his eyes good naturedly, tossing a bit of popcorn at you. You’d both been watching a new horror that James had seen advertising. Watching is a generous word because you both talk through all the dull parts and you squeeze his fingers in anxiety during the freaky parts.

“As opposed to?”

You giggle, “Hey, I can work the garden or help milk the cows.”

James chuckles then, his dimple on display making you want to poke your finger in it. “Same cows you’re afraid of? You can work the stables darling, you know your way around it.”

You squeal, leaning up and closer to James to kiss his cheek. You love doing it because James goes red hot and can’t stop his flush. Even as kids he’d go beet red the minute you gave him a kiss to his cheek.

“You’re the best James. The best ever.”

He grins, “I’m glad you finally noticed.” The pillow behind your head whacks him in the face as you groan.

“That was yuck, don’t ever say that again.” James laughs through your disgust, slotting your pillow behind your back again and holding your feet in his lap as the horror builds.

#cowboy!james #cowboy!james potter #jamespotter #james potter #james potter one shot #james potter oneshot #james potter imagine #james potter drabble #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic #james potter blurb #james potter fluff #james potter angst #james potter x reader #james potter x black reader #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter x yn #james potter x y/n

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ultram0th · 6 months ago

Text

Lee Embraces His Daddy Persona

Part 1 │ Part 2 │ Part 3 │ Part 4 │ Part 5

It had been two weeks since Lee was turned into Daddy, molding the formerly straight PokéTuber into a horny man with a sexy dad bod. The normally shy guy now strutted around the house that he shared with Blue, Kevin, Nick, and Wolfey wearing nothing but the skimpiest jockstrap that he could find, his beefy dad bod perpetually on display. He would frequently park himself in his chair in front of the TV, watching football and scratching his hairy belly and unleashing burp after burp as he drank his beer. The stud was a total daddy now, and he emulated every ounce of his new persona with pride.

However, as time ticked on by, Blue thought back to when he’d given Wolfey, Nick, and Kevin the opportunity to decide whether or not they wanted to return to their old lives or if they wanted to remain in their new identities.

Deep down, he loved having Daddy run the house and demand belly rubs and getting sucked off; but Blue couldn’t deny that he wanted to be fair to his new boyfriend too. Therefore, one Friday evening, Blue sat down in the living room while Daddy was lounging in his chair. Wanting to make things go easier on him when he snaps him back to reality, Blue brought Wolfey down with him to help him out.

Blue and Wolfey sat down on the sofa opposite the coffee table; and with his massive, broad frame, Blue was virtually forced to sit on Wolfey because there was almost no space left on the loveseat due to his bodybuilder bulk. Wolfey had just finished up a workout, therefore a large waft of musk emanated off the bodybuilder in waves; and when Wolfey wrapped a thick arm over Blue’s thin shoulders, his musk seeped into Blue’s shirt almost as if he were scent-marking him.

As soon as the game was in halftime, Blue knew that he had a moment to execute his plan. “Hey, Daddy,” he said.

“Hmm?” Daddy grunted, giving his gut a scratch as his eyes stayed glued to the TV. Like the rest of the guys, Daddy still religiously worked out and therefore had his own musky aura. The only difference was that Daddy focused more on arms and chest, giving him a large and heavy top build, complete with his big beer belly. Still, at hearing his tiny-by-comparison boyfriend call him Daddy, the bulge in the front of his tight jockstrap already began to twitch with anticipation. His nubby nipples began to burn with want and he licked his lips excitedly. “What is it, Babe?”

Blue shifted in his seat. “I was hoping to ask how you’ve liking it here so far?” he asked innocently. He already knew that if Lee were in control, then he’d get a tongue lashing. However, he could see how much Daddy loved his new life with the other guys: days filled with eating, lifting, and fucking. It was a paradise for the altered man.

“Eh?” Daddy grunted again, cocking his eyebrow. This time, he finally looked over at Blue, his features softening the smallest bit. His new persona was that of a dom daddy, but he still had a major soft spot for Blue and the other guys, yet he still tried to keep up a tough guy appearance. “S’nice.”

Blue smirked to himself as he readied to bring Lee back to the surface. “Are you sure it’s just ‘Nice’ Daddy?” he teased. “I mean, based off of what I can see, you really enjoy it.” He gestured at the other man’s twitching bulge.

Daddy looked downward at his crotch, but his view was blocked by his hairy beer belly. Instead, he reached around it and fished his hard cock out of the confines of his jockstrap, letting the twitching member bob in the air freely. “Yeah,” he admitted, lifting his arms to form a double biceps pose, his biceps flexing with power. “I guess I do love being your horny, sexy daddy.”

“Just remember that you said that,” Blue grinned, “…Lee.”

On cue, as soon as Daddy heard his real name being uttered by the hypnotherapist, he snapped back to reality. Like he was hit by a semi-truck, the stud jerked back in his seat, his ice blue eyes going wide as the onslaught of new memories filtered in through his frazzled brain.

“Wait…” Lee muttered as his hands explored the large mass that was now his body, paling at the memories of how he’d been living over the past two weeks. The formerly straight stud couldn’t believe that he’d been calling himself “Daddy” and that he’d been participating in, and actively encouraging, an array of sexual acts with the other men in the house. He pictured himself thrusting himself into a moaning Kevin, and then sometimes being the one bent over the bed as someone plowed into his rotund, hairy cheeks. Lee blushed at everything he’d done, but he felt even more humiliated over the fact that he was rock hard at the memories. He could feel his cock bobbing in the air for all to see, and he quickly stuffed it back into his jockstrap, creating a large tent instead.

And worse was that there was a part of himself that looked forward to doing everything all over again— but he quickly told himself that that must’ve been a residual side effect of whatever Blue had done to him.

Blue could see the struggle in the larger man’s eyes, and he couldn’t help but smirk. “Well, Lee, I’m assuming you’d like to know why I hypnotized you?” he playfully asked.

“You hypnotized me…?” Lee asked out loud, his voice disbelieving. Hypnosis was some sort of Hollywood concoction, he’d believed. Yet, the hunk found himself sitting in a house he vaguely recognized, wearing nothing but a skimpy jockstrap. And when he looked down at his body, his heart raced at the sheer amount of weight he’d gained. He could still see his hard-earned muscles, but now he appeared more like an off-season jock as opposed to a lean, proportional guy. His big gut was the most eye-catching part of him, and he gave it a tentative poke, his blush deepening when he felt his already-hard cock twitch at the feeling.

“Yes, Lee,” Blue answered honestly. “However, I mainly used hypnosis to help you come to terms with your true self.”

Lee stared blankly at him.

Blue continued, thinking back to when he’d first seen the hunk at the competition in the UK. “I could sense your discomfort onstage regarding having a little belly,” he explained, going so far as to reach over and run an admiring hand over the crest of Lee’s gut, loving how it sent a shudder through the shocked man. “And truth be told, I thought that you looked really sexy with your budding dad bod. So I figured that I’d do the nice thing and help you embrace the dad bod, per se. And know look at you!”

“Yeah! Look at me!” Lee grunted as he gestured down at his new body. He winced when he felt his big belly jiggle with each movement, yet it took him a second to realize that he’d been rubbing his belly with one hand the whole time he’d been speaking. Even though his face turned cherry red at the realization, he didn’t stop.

“It’s hard not to, Daddy,” Wolfey mused in his deep voice. “You look seriously hot.”

Lee whipped his head over to face the bodybuilder who was his friend from before all of this head on. Before he could grill him, he sniffed at the air and covered his nose. “Bro, you reek,” he groaned.

Wolfey shrugged his broadened shoulders. “I just finished a workout,” he grunted, flexing a bowling ball sized bicep for emphasis. “And by the way, we all kinda stink around here.”

As if to check, Lee sniffed at his own hairy pits, gagging at the thick musk that wafted off them in waves. He could tell from the stench that he still frequented the gym, but he just didn’t pay too much attention to his diet.

And like clockwork, his cock throbbed with desire within the confines of his tight jockstrap. A late, wet mark was forming on the front pouch as it began to leak precum excitedly. He tried his best to ignore the surges of lust that he felt welling up within him.

“But Wolfe, how?” he asked. “How could you possibly be okay with any of this? You were a VGC Champion, not some horny bodybuilder!”

Again, Wolfey shrugged his massive shoulders, his muscles flexing with power from the minuscule movement. “I still am a VGC Champ,” he explained, “I just so happen to also partake in bodybuilding. Trust me, this whole hypnosis thing helped us all be a family: Dr. Blue, Kevin, Nick, me, and even you.”

Lee’s eyes widened at what he heard, fearing that his friend was long gone.

“Besides,” Wolfey went on, “it’s not like I can just snap my fingers and return to my old life. I mean, look at me.” He held his arms out to show off his enormous bodybuilder physique. “And look at you. And based off that tent in the front of your slutty jockstrap, you secretly like it.”

“N-no I don’t,” Lee tried to deny it, but he didn’t even believe his own words. Despite his panic over what he’d been turned into, he couldn’t deny that he was extremely horny. His lust was quickly overpowering his fear, and he felt as if he’d cum at any second the more he rubbed his belly or even by feeling the A/C blow over his nubby nipples. As much as he wanted to deny it, Lee also could’t ignore the protective and dominant instincts that dwelled within him as he thought about the other men whom he’d referred to as his boyfriends. He squirmed in his seat in anticipation.

“And besides, even if the hypnosis was what started it, who cares?” Wolfey asked. “I’m happy.”

“You’re only saying that because of whatever Blue did to you!” Lee accused. “You’re not even the real Wolfe anymore. You’re whatever gay caricature Blue wanted you to be!”

Blue shook his head, getting an idea from seeing Lee try to fight his daddy persona so much. “All I did was help you let down your inhibitions,” he told the struggling Lee. “I think deep down, you’ve come to love your slutty, dom daddy life. Which is why I have a deal for you.”

Lee stopped fidgeting around and eyed the smaller man cautiously. “What kind of a deal?” he reluctantly asked, annoyed at how turned on he felt just by looking at Blue, feeling an urge to shove the smaller guy’s face into the deep crevice of his hairy pecs.

Blue held his hands out in front of himself, signaling that he was speaking with one-hundred percent earnestly. “I’ll let you go, completely erase any traces of the hypnosis from your brain. Then you’ll be free to return to your boring, hetero life. Or…

“I’ll put you back under, and you can go back to being a total daddy. But, in order to sweeten the deal, I’ll even place you as the second in command at the house. That means that, after me, you’ll be in charge of Nick, Kevin, and even Big Wolfey here.” He gestured at the bodybuilder who was popping his pecs, lost in thought. “They will obey your every command, and completely accept you as Daddy of the House. What do you think?”

“I… I don’t want this…” Lee trailed off as he began to think over Blue’s offer.

A part of himself wanted to return to his old life, where he had his usual PokéTuber friends online and where he posted regular content on his channel for his viewers to watch. However, a larger, growing part of himself told him to accept the offer to become Daddy. As much as he tried to fight against it, he couldn’t deny the surging lust inside of himself, the part that longed to fuck the other guys in the house and to get fucked by them in turn. And the more he thought about them, the more he considered them family. They weren’t just some faceless names that popped up onto a screen, they were here with him. And he was their Daddy.

Plus, Lee had no idea what he’d do with his new dad bod if he were to return to his old life; so that made a pretty big difference in his decision.

“Fine,” Lee sighed. “I’ll go back under.”

Blue fought back his smirk, knowing that he’d won. “Okay then,” he grinned from ear-to-ear, “…Daddy.”

As soon as the name left the hypnotherapist’s lips, Lee felt his old self being shoved down into a small box deep within his psyche. He could see, feel, and hear everything around him, but he could also sense a larger, much more powerful entity taking over as Daddy reassumed control of his altered body.

Daddy couldn’t help but let out a loud belch as he scratched at his beer belly. He turned to glare at Blue. “Boy, don’t you ever turn me back into my pushover, straight self again,” he barked, that daddy dominance drenching every word he uttered. “Ya hear me?”

Blue giggled. “Yes, Daddy.”

Daddy motioned with his finger for Blue to approach. “C’mere,” he grunted in his gruff voice, a playful growl audible in it.

Blue took only a few tiny steps forward before Daddy got out of his seat and roughly grabbed him by the back of the head. He pulled the smaller man closer to him, causing him to tumble against his massive dad bod. Daddy shivered as he could feel the hypnotherapist’s hands against his hairy chest, and he leaned down to heatedly make out with Blue.

Of course Daddy was the dominant one in the make out session, exploring every crevice of Blue’s mouth with his tongue. He pulled back only to gesture at Wolfey.

“You too, get in here and take care of Daddy,” he ordered.

The bodybuilder shot off the couch and immediately dropped down to his knees with a loud thud. He leaned forward and, using just his mouth, tore Daddy’s jockstrap down to the floor. The dominant man’s throbbing seven inches was unsheathed, and Wolfey eagerly swallowed it whole. He couldn’t prevent his loud moans from echoing out as he sucked off the newly minted Daddy, even reaching up to fondle his large, baseball-sized balls.

Blue loved to see the man in front of him melt into a puddle of lustful goo, so he began to run his hands up and down the stud’s hairy chest. He paid special attention to the large, nubby nipples of his, eliciting loud, slutty moans from Daddy.

In between his bellowing moans, Daddy called up to the other men upstairs. “Nick! Kevin! Get your asses down here!” he roared.

Obeying the Daddy of the House, as Blue had promised, Nick and Kevin scampered out of their rooms as soon as they were given instructions. They both hurried down the stairs and immediately got to work.

Nick placed both of his hands on Wolfe’s wide waist, lining up his already oozing cock with the bodybuilder’s tight hole. He slowly entered before beginning to pick up speed, the both of them moaning loudly. As Nick thrusted into the bigger man, all of Wolfey’s impressive muscles bounced due to the pounding his bubble butt was receiving.

Kevin, being the first one to be hypnotized by Blue and therefore the bravest, went behind Daddy. At first, he placed his throbbing head right at the crevice of Daddy’s hairy cheeks, teasing the other man as he still made out with Blue. His lust overpowering him, Daddy felt himself thrusting his ass backwards to completely engulf the other man’s large cock.

Daddy moaned like a slut as he impaled himself on Kevin’s cock, doing most of the work as he bucked and rolled his hips with expert precision. He then dropped to his hands and knees and hungrily fished Blue’s cock out of his pants before taking it into his mouth.

Despite getting stuffed both ways, Daddy was still in charge. The way he moved his booty let Kevin know that he was taking charge in their heated fuck; and he sucked Blue’s dick like a pro, leaving the hypnotherapist nearly cross-eyed. Deep down as he watched from within his trapped psyche, Lee realized that he loved this and might have always wanted to be a slutty daddy. After all, even when he’d been brought back to the surface, he’d been incredibly turned on by the other men and the way his body had felt.

Lee loved being Daddy, and he didn’t ever want to go back to his old life.

“Mmmmm!” Daddy groaned as he came, both Kevin and Blue also cumming simultaneously. As he was filled from both ends, Daddy’s eyes glazed over and he happily swallowed all that Blue had unleashed into his mouth.

“…damn,” was all Blue could get out as he leaned against the wall, struggling to catch his breath as he felt like he’d just blown the largest load of his life.

Daddy stood up and wrapped a loving arm around the smaller guy’s waist. “Who’s your daddy?” he chuckled before pressing a chaste kiss to the other man’s cheek, his goatee prickling Blue’s skin.

“You,” Blue laughed, running his hand up and down Daddy’s belly. It wasn’t long until the other man was rock hard again, and ready for the next round.

#muscle #bodybuilder #straight-to-gay #Daddification #Daddy #Daddy TF #Hypnosis #hypnotherapy #hairy chest #hairy #wolfe glick #kevin jonas #Nick Jonas #lee provost #Osirus

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chvoswxtch · 1 year ago

Text

confession

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: one confession changes everything.

warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of guns, bombs, blood & violence

word count: 5.5k

a/n: dun dun dunnnnnn. i hope y'all are hungry for drama, bc that's exactly what i whipped up. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

[previous chapter] | [next chapter] | [series masterlist]

The second you burst through the door to Billy’s office, three sets of eyes were immediately on you. A look of pure annoyance settled on Frank’s face when he saw that you had directly disobeyed his order to wait in the truck, and he instantly began to stalk over towards you while grunting under his breath.

“I told you to wait in the-“

Something in your eyes must have caught his attention, because Frank abruptly stopped dead in his tracks and the irritation plastered on his face quickly shifted into a look you weren’t familiar with seeing on his hardened features.

Fear.

The movement of someone hastily rising from their chair caught your eye, and your lethal gaze completely bypassed Billy’s evident look of surprise to land on the culprit of your imminent wrath.

“Y/N, oh thank God. Where the hell have you been? Everyone has been looking for you for-“

Crack.

The moment your fist collided with Steven’s face, pain shot through your knuckles, and you tore your hand away as if you had touched a hot stove top, clutching your hand to your chest with a tight grimace on your face as you groaned.

“Oh, fuck!”

Billy’s dark brows rose significantly up his forehead, and his jaw went slack in astonishment. Frank’s eyes nearly doubled in size as he gawked at you in complete shock. Below you, Steven was on the ground, holding his nose and groaning in agony as deep streams of crimson slipped through his fingers.

“Jesus fucking Christ! What the fuck was that for?”

“It was you, you son of a bitch!”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about-”

“No I don’t, what the fuck is your problem? You on your period or something, that why you’re acting so fucking crazy?”

Steven’s words only fueled your rage and made you completely blindsided by your own anger. You weren’t thinking clearly, and when Billy came around his desk to stand beside you to assess the situation, you reached out to quickly pull his gun from his holster to aim it directly at Steven, whose expression of exasperation swiftly morphed into pure panic as he stared up at the barrel of the gun in your hand.

Billy immediately lept into action, grabbing onto your wrist tightly with his right hand to push the gun’s barrel away from Steven’s face while his left hand gripped onto your arm to lock it in place.

“Whoa whoa whoa, easy, darlin’.”

Behind you, Frank’s boots thudded heavily against the floor in a rush, and you soon felt the heat of his palm against your lower back through the thin material of your shirt. His other large hand reached over Billy’s to grip onto the barrel of the gun, keeping you from pointing it where you wanted to. Normally being so close to Frank that you could feel the tickle of his warm breath against your ear would’ve sent a shiver trickling down your spine, but the fury you felt seemed to singe every nerve ending that would’ve otherwise been affected by the juxtaposition of his gruff voice pleading gently with you.

“Easy, sweetheart. Gimme the gun. Whatever you think you wanna do right now, you don’t.”

“I want him to admit it.”

Steven swallowed thickly as you spit your venom at him through gritted teeth. Your eyes hadn’t left his once since they locked onto him when you stepped into Billy’s office. He wiped the blood lingering above his thin top lip with the sleeve of his shirt, staining the crisp white fabric a deep shade of maroon, and raised both of his hands slowly in a show of surrender as he stared up at you in trepidation.

“Y/N…whatever you think I did-“

“I don’t think. I know. You’re behind the Defenders of Freedom. All of this shit-all the people that have been hurt, all the people that have died-I almost died because of you.”

Steven let out a nervous chuckle as he shook his head slowly, moving to sit up on his knees as he stared up at you in bewilderment.

“What? That’s…that’s crazy. I was attacked by them. I don’t know why you would-“

Before he could utter another lie, you lifted your phone in your other hand that wasn’t still gripping onto the gun and started playing the recording you had, causing the entire room to go silent.

“Price! We got a fucking problem here! You said she was supposed to be alone, man. Well she’s not fucking alone! Someone’s fucking here and they’re-“

Cavella’s voice was cut off by the sound of bullets ricocheting around your kitchen. Steven’s eyes went wide with terror once you stopped the recording, a look of fear flashing through them that you had only ever seen Frank bring out in him. That look had power surging through your veins; to finally have that sense of strength over a man who had tried to make you feel small and brittle the entire duration of your relationship. It was intoxicating to be able to stare down into his petrified gaze.

Frank and Billy both immediately went rigid once the recording stopped. Billy’s look of concern for you all of a sudden morphed into an accusatory glare as he slowly turned his head to look down at Steven. One by one, he untangled his fingers from around your wrist and let go of your arm, turning to face Steven fully and stare him down as he towered over him.

“Frank, let go.”

“Bill-“

“Let her have it.”

“She don’t know how to use it-“

“She’s about to learn.”

The icy edge to Billy’s voice momentarily suspended your anger, and your lips parted slightly, noticing the look of pure disdain clenched in his jaw. Frank slowly came into view beside you, his large hand still clamped around the barrel of the gun, and when you turned to look at him, you could see the anger and concern clashing in his eyes. A muscle feathered in his jaw as he stared into your eyes, the internal battle displayed in the reflection of his almost like a play. You could see his hesitation to let go as much as you could see his own desire to follow Billy’s direction.

Glancing down at his own hand on the gun, his brows furrowed slightly, and he exchanged a knowing glance with Billy. Giving you one final look, he let out a deep exhale through his large nose, relinquishing his hold on the gun and removing his hand from your lower back to take a step backwards to give you some space. He immediately turned his body to face forward, staring down at Steven with a menacing glare while his index and middle finger twitched at his sides. Flickering your eyes over towards Billy, he gave you a subtle nod of encouragement before focusing his attention back on Steven.

Sucking in a sharp inhale, you fixated your gaze back on Steven and aimed the gun at him again with more confidence this time. It felt foreign holding a gun for the first time, and it was heavier than you expected, but the weight of the weapon in your hand was nothing compared to the weight of knowing all the hell you had endured the past several months were because of the man on his knees in front of you.

“I wanna hear you admit it.”

Steven’s eyes desperately flickered between the three of you. It was clear he wasn’t getting any sympathy from Frank or Billy, but he was still egotistical enough to think he had some kind of hold on you that he could use to his advantage. He shook his head quickly as he reached a shaky hand out towards you.

“Y/N, this is all a huge misunderstanding. Look, I asked those guys to look after you because-“

“I don’t want any bullshit, Steven. I want the truth. Cavella outed himself and Walker about being involved with the bombings. They weren’t there to look after me, they were there to kidnap me. Why? First you tried to have me killed, and then kidnapped-“

“Whoa whoa, no. That is not at all what was supposed to happen-“

“Then what was supposed to happen, Steven?”

“You weren’t supposed to antagonize them! The only reason you became a target is because you pissed them off! If you hadn’t been so fucking-“

Billy took a swift step forward and backhanded Steven across the face, glaring down at him with his lips set in a hard line.

“I would watch the way you talk to someone pointin’ a fuckin’ gun at you, dipshit.”

Steven clenched his jaw with a wince as he squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a frustrated exhale.

“Fuckin’ figures you’d be behind this shit. Bombs are a cowards weapon, and that’s exactly what you fuckin’ are.”

Frank’s voice was dangerously low and absolutely dripping with unfiltered hatred.

“I never hurt anyone. No one was ever supposed to get hurt at all. Look, Cavella and Walker had this group of vets that were already causing a lot of trouble. I…I thought I could use them to my advantage. I made them a deal that if they would do exactly as I said when I said, I’d fund them and keep them hidden and out of prison.”

“How exactly does a homegrown terrorist group advantage you?”

Steven sighed in frustration as he stared up at you, dropping his hands by his sides. The look of indignation in his eyes made your blood feel like molten lava in your veins. You had seen that look countless times when you were together. It was an expression he gave you when he felt like he was pointing out something obvious to you, or felt the need to mansplain something he thought you weren’t intelligent enough to figure out on your own.

“It would’ve helped me win the election.”

Complete disbelief was shot throughout your entire nervous system like a shockwave as you blanched at him with a curt, humorless laugh.

“You’re fucking joking. You murdered people-“

“No. I didn’t do that. Cavella and Walker were just supposed to blow up a few buildings and make a few stupid threats that I could use as a talking point for my campaign. They were gonna threaten me publically, and that was gonna gain me sympathy points in the polls. They already had a few guys lined up to take the fall for everything, and it was all gonna go down the week before the election. Can you imagine the votes I’d get for taking down a terrorist group? I’d win by a fucking landslide.”

“You are un-fucking-believable.”

“Look, I’ll admit, they got out of hand, alright? I told you, no one was supposed to get hurt at all. Politics is messy. Sometimes you do things you’re not proud of-“

“You’re really trying to excuse what you did-“

“I made a mistake, Y/N. I was trying to fix it-“

“How does kidnapping me fix it?”

Steven dragged his palms down his face in complete exasperation as he shook his head with a dry laugh.

“I knew a journalist was attacking them in the media but I didn’t realize it was you. I tried to tell Cavella and Walker you were off limits, but they didn’t wanna hear it. I mean, you taunted them relentlessly in the media. So, I agreed to let them kidnap you, but they weren’t actually gonna hurt you. I told them if they did, I’d pull their funding and expose them. They were just supposed to scare you into shutting up-”

Before you had a chance to react, Frank surged forward and struck his fist across Steven’s face hard, sending him flying two feet away from where he was sitting on his knees. When Frank moved to advance towards Steven to unleash more of his rage, Billy thrust his arm across Frank’s chest to halt his movements.

“Let her finish.”

Your eyes widened at the force Frank had knocked Steven back with. You watched as Steven curled up onto his side, his hand hovering over the fresh gash Frank’s knuckles had torn into his cheek, and you grimaced slightly at the pool of blood leaking past his lips. Steven let out a frustrated yell of pain while clutching at his face.

“Fuck! God…none of this even fucking matters anymore, alright? We have a bigger problem. Someone else knew about Cavella and Walker showing up to Y/N’s place and killed them, and I would think she would be more concerned that they’re still out there somewhere-”

“I did.”

Steven paused his furious rant to look up at Frank, his bloodied face twisted up in absolute confusion.

“What?”

Frank took a bold step forward, his eyes wild with restrained fury, and his top lip curled up slightly in a menacing snarl as he grit his words out at Steven.

“I killed ‘em.”

Steven blinked a few times in pure dumbfoundment. The puzzlement swimming in his eyes seemed to swirl like a hurricane into a pool of fear before settling into a tide of anger. As he glared between Frank and Billy, he pointed an accusatory bloody finger towards Frank.

“You…you ruined everything! I staged my car being blown up so Homeland would pull you away from her. If you had fucking done as you were told this would’ve all been over in two weeks! You weren’t supposed to be there-”

“Well that’s your fuckin’ stupid ass mistake thinkin’ I would ever leave her alone.”

Frank was beyond seething at this point, and the boom of his voice echoed in Billy’s office like a loud clap of thunder. But it wasn’t the volume of his words that made you shiver; it was the truth you heard in them.

Something about Steven’s argument piqued your curiosity, and you stared down at him with narrowed eyes.

“Wouldn’t exposing them also expose you?”

Steven scoffed at your question like it was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard.

“No, I’m not stupid. I paid them in cash. We only exchanged information verbally, or through a burner phone, so there was nothing tying me to them. If they even tried, I would’ve buried them in charges.“

Your brows furrowed slightly at his implication, letting out a dry laugh as you watched him spit out blood.

“You mean you would’ve falsified files to get them locked away to hide your own dirty secrets?”

“I’ve been doing it my entire career. You really think I haven’t lost a case because I’m that good? Come on, no lawyer has that string of luck.”

Every dark revelation coming from Steven’s mouth only made your blood blaze even hotter. You momentarily dropped the gun by your side, taking a few steps over towards Steven with a look of absolute fury in your eyes while you smiled humorlessly.

“I can’t tell you how much I’m going to fucking enjoy watching you burn for this. Guess I’ll be writing about you after all.”

Steve let out a deep laugh, showcasing his bloodstained teeth in a cocky smile as he looked up at you.

“Princess, have you forgotten who I am? Who my father is? None of this is coming back to me. I told you, I have no direct ties to those overzealous psychos. That little recording you have only proves I sent two officers to watch out for my ex-girlfriend that was in danger. There’s no proof I knew they were involved. And even with your two little witnesses here, it’s all circumstantial evidence. No one is gonna believe you. You have nothing.”

“I’d say we have a confession.”

Steven rolled his eyes as he turned his head to look up at Billy, that nauseating smirk plastered over his lips.

“Not exactly how a confession works, pretty boy. This would all be hearsay, if it even made it to court.”

Billy arched one of his dark brows, his deep obsidian eyes narrowing slightly with a sparkle of mischief shining in them as his lips stretched into a wolfish grin. He suddenly held up his phone that displayed a recording that was still currently going.

“Is it?”

Steven’s smirk instantly disappeared realizing that Billy had been silently capturing the entire conversation. Showcasing a victorious smirk of his own, Billy pressed the button to stop the recording and slipped his phone into his pocket.

Frank’s face was still contorted in barely contained rage while glaring down at Steven as he barked a command.

“Names. Now.”

Steven swallowed thickly looking up at Frank, glancing between him and Billy in a newfound alarm.

“Okay…look…I’ll give you everything. If…if we can work something out-“

Frank stalked over towards Steven and grabbed him by his neck, lifting him up like a rag doll and shoving him against the wall so hard, it indented the wall in Billy’s office.

“We ain’t workin’ nothin’ out ‘cept whether you leave this goddamn office breathin’ or not, you got that? Now you can gimme those fuckin’ names, or I’ll tear ‘em outta you.”

Steven gripped onto Frank’s arms with both hands tightly, coughing from the restricted airflow, his ridiculous shoes thrashing against the wall from where Frank had him suspended above the floor.

“Cavella…was in…charge. Walker…was his…partner…I-addresses. I have… addresses…phone numbers…left pocket-“

Frank reached into Steven’s pocket with his free hand, pulling the burner phone out to toss in Billy’s direction. Billy quickly caught it and opened it, and after a few moments of searching through it, snapped it shut with a nod.

“Got it.”

Frank let go of Steven's neck, letting him collapse onto the floor in front of his boots, the corner of his mouth curling up into a snarl as Steven was sent into a coughing fit trying to catch his breath.

“Pull the trigger, darlin’.”

All three of your heads snapped in Billy’s direction, but he was only looking at you. Your lips parted slightly in surprise, glancing between Steven’s horrified eyes and Billy’s calm ones.

“What? We…we have his confession-“

Billy crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned against his desk, nodding in your direction.

“We got a confession, but he could say it was coerced, and we got nothin’ else to pin to him. There’s a very real chance daddy could save the day on this one. You wanna risk that?”

A crease of confusion furrowed between your brows, and Billy’s features took on a more serious expression.

“We’ll back you. It would be cut and dry self defense.”

A look of astonishment blanketed your face when you realized what Billy was offering.

He wanted you to kill Steven.

Your eyes immediately went wide, and you looked over at Frank, hoping to see the same shock that was shining in your own eyes, but you didn’t find that.

Frank was staring at you in that same clash of hesitation and wrath, but you couldn’t detect a single ounce of disagreement with Billy’s offer. A sudden chill nipped at the back of your neck, and you slowly started to shake your head. Frank took a cautious step towards you, reaching out for your hand still holding onto the gun.

“You ain’t gotta do it. Lemme have it.”

“Frank-“

“Give it to me, and go wait in the truck.”

Your brows knit together in perplexity and disappointment as you stared between him and Billy, shaking your head adamantly.

“No.”

“Sweetheart-“

“No! He needs to pay for what he’s done. He and the others need to rot in prison. They need to spend the rest of their miserable lives in a tiny cell, knowing they’ll never get out. That’s what they deserve. They don’t just get to die and get it over with. They’re not getting away with it-“

“No one said they were, darlin’. Give Frank the gun.”

“He’s going to prison.”

Billy stared at you for a moment with an unreadable expression. Letting out an exhale through his nose, he nodded his head slightly in acceptance and straightened out his tie.

“If that’s what you want.”

Clutching onto the handle of the gun tightly, you glanced between Billy and Frank, noticing the polar difference in their expressions. Billy seemed calm and collected while Frank looked like he was seconds away from unleashing his wrath on Steven. Despite the power the two of them held, the decision was yours.

“Call Homeland.”

»»———　　———««

Watching Steven getting hauled away in handcuffs should’ve filled you with a sense of relief, but as you sat in the large conference room alone and watched Homeland agents scramble around the building through the floor to ceiling glass walls, there was a feeling of unease twisting your stomach into anxious knots.

Your thoughts were interrupted when a woman with shoulder length chocolate curls and espresso tinted eyes pushed open the door to the conference room. Her gaze was somewhat intense, and captivating, but there was a tight smile on her lips when she approached you and held out her hand.

“Y/N Y/L/N, I’m agent Dinah Madani with Homeland Security. I’ve been working on your case.”

Reaching your hand out to take hers, you noticed she had a firm grasp. When you made the connection with her words in your head, a tiny smile tugged at the corner of your mouth.

“You’re Frank’s friend.”

Dinah lifted one of her perfectly arched dark brows in playful curiosity as a more candid and genuine soft smile graced her lips.

“Friend is a…strong word. But for all intents and purposes, sure.”

She gave you a knowing look, and you simply nodded in silent understanding as the tiny smile pulling at the edge of your mouth reached the center of your lips. Dinah took a seat beside you and leaned back in the chair slightly, letting out a deep exhale as her gaze flickered between the agents currently interviewing Billy and Frank before landing back on you with a softer expression.

“You know…what you did, it was brave. Incredibly reckless, to taunt two psychopaths with loaded guns and a hobby of blowing shit up, but brave. And extremely clever.”

That lingering sensation of dread crept up your spine again, causing you to shudder. The weight of the past few months, and the last seventy-two hours especially, bubbled in your stomach like bile threatening to erupt. There was a question that had been echoing in your head for the past forty-five minutes, one you were afraid to know the answer to.

“Is it enough?”

Dinah tilted her head to the side slightly as she stared over at you, her dark brows twinged with confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“The recordings…his confession…is it enough?”

Hearing the worriment that trembled in your voice, Dinah’s features softened as the blurriness of your apprehension finally became clear, and she understood exactly what you were asking. She reached a hand over to firmly place on top of yours and leaned in so that she was staring directly into your eyes while she spoke in a strong and confident tone.

“I will personally make sure this son of a bitch goes down, and goes down hard. I don’t care if his father is richer than God, Steven Price is going to pay for what he did. They all will. I promise.”

There was a quiet ferocity to Dinah, and you got the impression that she was a woman with zero tolerance for bullshit, but despite her intensity, she made you feel relaxed. It almost reminded you of your early interactions with Frank.

“Thank you.”

The blazing passion in her eyes cooled off the tiniest bit when you said that, and you got the feeling those were two words she didn’t hear often. Before Dinah could respond, the door to the conference room creaked open, and that fire was burning brightly in her eyes once again as she stared down the intruder. You thought she might have been glaring at Frank for some reason, but when you looked over your shoulder, you were surprised to see it was Billy.

He stood on the opposite side of the table with his hands in his pockets, looking at Dinah with a faint smirk on his lips that almost looked arrogant, and a rogue twinkle in his eyes.

“Madani.”

Dinah sat up straighter in her seat as she stared intently over at Billy, not even bothering to plaster a cordial smile on her lips.

“Russo.”

There was a tension lingering between the two of them like a dense and heavy fog, and your eyes darted between them in total curiosity. Billy cleared his throat and squared his shoulders as he gestured towards you with his chin.

“Mind if I have a word with her alone?”

Instead of answering him, Madani turned her attention towards you, raising one of her brows in silent questioning. After giving her a subtle nod, she looked over at Billy warily out of the corner of her eye and let out a heavy exhale through her nose, giving you a nod of her own and rising from her seat.

“I’ll be outside.”

As she made her way over towards the conference door to leave, her and Billy’s eyes were locked on one another in an almost strained staring contest. But while Billy’s eyes reflected amusement, Madani stared at Billy in a look that resembled…suspicion. Once it was just you and Billy in the room, you looked over at him in complete puzzlement with an arched brow.

“What did you do to piss off Homeland Security?”

Billy let out a dark chuckle as he rounded the long, deep mahogany conference table, unbuttoning his suit jacket to take a seat next to you.

“We uh…used to date.”

For some reason, that confession caught you off guard. It was hard to picture someone like Billy with someone like Madani. Granted, she was just as attractive as he was, but their personalities seemed so…different. Glancing down at your hands, you let out a dry and humorless short laugh.

“I guess you really fucked up.”

Billy’s sharp features contorted into a look of faux offense, but the grin on his lips gave away his true feelings.

“What makes you so sure it was my fault?”

Turning your head slightly to give him a pointed look, he let out a deep chuckle and nodded as he leaned back in the chair and glanced around the empty conference room.

“Fair enough.”

Staring down at your hand that you had punched Steven with, you noticed that your knuckles had begun to swell, and the skin was changing into the early shades of a bruise. So much adrenaline had been coursing through your body, you hadn’t felt any pain at all until now. You could barely tighten your fingers into a weak fist without feeling a sharp tenderness, and there was dried blood around the stitches in your palm from clutching the gun so tightly.

A gun that Billy had wanted you to pull the trigger on.

“I wasn’t going to shoot him.”

“I know. You couldn’t have even if you wanted to.”

Shifting your gaze to look over at Billy in total confusion, there was a small smile on his lips as he looked back at you. He slowly crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head to the side while gazing softly at you.

“The safety was on.”

All of a sudden, everything clicked.

That’s why Frank let go of the gun.

He had seen that the safety was on and knew you couldn’t do any damage. A surprised scoff left your lips as you shook your head slowly while all these new pieces fit into the puzzle. But as you ran your fingers through your hair with your uninjured hand, there was one question that was still missing an answer. You turned your head to stare at Billy inquisitively.

“Then why did you say-”

Billy shook his head and leaned over in his seat closer towards you, resting his elbows on his thighs.

“I was just tryin’ to scare him. He spent months terrorizin’ you, I thought it was only fair we scare the shit outta him too. I’m sorry if I took it too far, darlin’. But, I knew you wouldn’t do it, even if the safety wasn’t on.”

The way he said that with such conviction struck something within you, and you sat up a little straighter as you furrowed your brows slightly.

“What makes you say that?”

Billy instantly picked up on the challenging tone lacing your question, and he let out a light chuckle while looking at you with one of his dark brows arched.

“Besides the fact you don’t know how to use a gun?”

He took a moment to let his teasing words linger in the space between you, letting out an amused snort at the way you pursed your lips and lifted your brows defiantly.

“Cause that ain’t you, darlin’. Besides, Frank wouldn’t let you do somethin’ like that. He woulda done it himself to keep your conscience clear.”

As if on cue, Frank pushed through the door of the conference room with an ice pack in one hand and a first aid kit in the other. He glanced between you and Billy, his dark brows slightly knit together before his gaze landed on you, and he gestured loosely with the ice pack.

“Thought you might need this for that right hook, Rocky.”

Billy threw his head back and let out a hearty laugh while you struggled to fight the grin that threatened to take over your lips as you glanced down at your slightly swollen hand. Billy stood up from the chair and buttoned his suit jacket, lightly squeezing your shoulder.

“That was impressive. Remind me to never piss you off.”

While Billy left the conference room to speak to some of the guys that worked for him, Frank took his previous spot in the chair next to you and set the ice pack and first aid kit on the table.

“Lemme see.”

Letting out a soft sigh, you slowly placed your hand into his larger one and winced as he gingerly brushed his thumb over your bruised knuckles.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“Are we lookin’ at the same thing?”

There was a faint teasing tone to his words, and as you lifted your gaze to meet his eyes, you realized it was because he had repeated your own back to you. You were suddenly brought back to the night at the bar when you had been in this exact same scenario with Frank, only now the roles were reversed. Now he was the one patching up your hand.

A smile bloomed across your lips like the first delicate bud in spring knowing that he remembered that. Frank always remembered the little things.

“Alright, fine. It’s bad.”

Frank turned your hand over carefully, swabbing at the dried blood around your stitches with an alcohol wipe which caused you to hiss from the sting, and elicited a quiet apology from him. To both of your surprise, you hadn’t ripped open your stitches. Frank applied some antibiotic cream to your stitches and gently placed the ice pack over your swollen knuckles, the icy chill instantly offering a little bit of relief to the throbbing under your angry and taut skin.

But it was the way that Frank tenderly held your wrist with his other free hand as he held the ice pack to your bruised knuckles that a heated shiver tumbling down your back.

“Be sore for a few days, but it ain’t broken.”

Frank lifted his head to look at you, his eyes faintly narrowed as he cocked his head to the side and studied you curiously.

“I thought you said you ain’t ever hit anyone before?”

A look of sheer puzzlement blanketed your own features while looking back at Frank, unsure of the implications behind his question.

“I haven’t.”

Frank’s thick brows lifted up his forehead a few centimeters in surprise as his deep brown eyes wandered over you, a soft chuckle leaving him as he shook his head slowly and looked back down at your hand.

“Coulda fooled me. Hell of a fuckin’ hit for your first try.”

His voice was dripping with pride, and that coupled with the tiny grin on his lips filled you with a giddiness that made the pain in your hand almost disappear.

But all at once, that giddiness disappeared when a chilling revelation washed over you like a bucket of unforgiving ice water.

The Defenders of Freedom had been caught. Steven was going to stand trial, and eventually be sent to prison.

And there wasn’t a reason for Frank to be your bodyguard anymore.

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